#Dog Days Ch 2

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU)

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: mentions of masturbation WC: 3.4k AN: hello darlings!! another anakin x reader longer fic coming your way!! lmk what you think, and asks/requests are always open!

[Ch. 1], Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 1: Soldering

The moment the competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the department. As soon as he heard about it at the thesis info session of your senior year, his eyes found you in the crowd, because he knew you're his biggest rival, and you're coming for him. He was surprised to find you were looking at him, based on the way his eyes widened, and you found a shocking amount of satisfaction in it. The top prize was 10k and a job at Boeing, after all. The more you surprised him, the more likely you were to catch him off-guard. Not that you would sabotage his work, that was just unseemly conduct for a senior at Coruscant U, but you'd encourage his sloppiness.

The instant after the presentation finished, you rushed to the lab. The thesis lab adjoined the regular makerspace in a continuation of the glass walls and sleek design of the rest of the engineering building. You'd spent the end of your junior year there, when you'd had to submit your thesis proposal (A Novel Method for Glaucoma Detection Utilizing Machine Learning and Mass-Producible Hardware). Anakin was always there too, which made the space just a little more annoying, with the loud music blasting out of his headphones and the hair-raising racket of the band saw.

Last year, you'd decided to admit to yourself, despite your best efforts since you had met him, that okay, Anakin Skywalker was hot. Like, horrendously hot. He was a looker no matter what he did, with those blue puppy dog eyes, full lips, and his gorgeous chestnut hair, which looked so soft that you had wondered on multiple occasions what it would be like to touch it. And, being captain of the university taekwondo team, he was muscular as all get-out. You'd catch a peek at his calves and ass on hot days when he wore shorts, and his biceps and shoulders were almost always flexed in the lab when he was sawing something or bent over the soldering station. One time, he wore grey sweatpants, and you had to literally tear your eyes away. But it wasn't just those features that made him hot. It was, unfortunately, him as a person. The confidence with which he sauntered through the building. His mischievous smile that he'd cast you in group projects, or the clench of his jaw as he wired something finicky. Your roommate, Ahsoka, a junior and also his vice-captain, told you that, oh yeah, he was also really good with younger team members. That he taught kids in the nearby school once a week, too, even though he had such a busy schedule. Wasn't that just sweet.

He wasn't that kind to you. Another thing that made him hot, unfortunately, was his brain, and his wit. He was kind of smart, okay, very smart, and that might make him the one thing standing in your way this year. Anakin also never shied away from a biting comment at you, usually about how if you had done it correctly, you wouldn't have an issue with some wiring. Unfortunately, he was usually right, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

Your rivalry started in freshman year, when your physics professor would choose the best student's homework and post it to the class as an example. You were sure you'd be chosen--your first homework was perfect--but then you saw his name. Anakin Skywalker. The next week, you beat him, but then he came out on top immediately after. And so it went. Always fighting for the top spot, to see who could outdo the other. Now, the department was just paying you to do it.

You were in the lab right after the "Senior Thesis Information Session" presentation, using the few minutes you had before your thermodynamics class to tinker with the 3D print that had just finished. Then, the door slid open with the beep of an ID card. You didn't have to turn around to know it was Anakin. Only he would be insane enough to work on day 1 of the semester. Him, and you.

"So you're seriously competing for this, huh?" He asked, watching you sand off some rough edges off the plastic. His tone was playful, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness. He was sizing up the competition.

"Yup. And I'm gonna blow you out of the water," you said self-assuredly. Your project was too good not to win. Anakin barked out a laugh.

"Sure. Right. We'll see about that," he remarked. His voice was dripping with smugness, just like usual with you. You just rolled your eyes. It wasn't worth it to waste time verbally sparring with him, you had better things to do. Like thermo. So you pushed out of your chair, leaving the print on the shelf that had your name laser cut into wood (a gift you had made yourself after your junior thesis proposal got an A), and heading to Lecture Hall 3.56B. Anakin was, of course, heading there too. You were in lockstep, as always. However, he refused to walk there with you, so he waited precisely enough for you to close the door before he left too.

And so, the first three months of the semester passed in relative peace between the two of you. There was only a handful of people who used the thesis room, and you were the only ones there consistently. It helped because safety regulations meant you had to have a buddy in the room to use any of the really useful machines, so you sometimes found yourself pleased to see him. It meant you could get work done. At night, the engineering building was fifteen minutes away from the dorms where you both lived--in the same building, which vexed you to no end when you saw him in the dining hall--so you both had to make the walk home late at night through the city. Oftentimes, you ended up walking home at the same time. It would be wrong to call it walking together, because that would imply you were near each other, or in each other's company, which would be plain wrong. You were always as far as possible on the sidewalk, and oftentimes you two would end up speedwalking home, not allowing the other person to be faster. Was it childish? Maybe. Did you feel a rush of joy every single time you hit the door to your building before him? Definitely.

In November, as the biting cold chilled the air, you found yourself done before him. All your current tasks were done, and you had to wait for a print to finish before you could keep going, plus he wasn't using any machines that needed a buddy, according to lab rules. It had been a long day, and you'd barely dragged your bones into the lab, let alone through all that work.

"Hang on," his voice called from across the space. He was at the soldering station in his safety glasses, bent over some chip.

"What?" Why couldn't you just go home? To your beautiful bed?

"I don't feel good about you walking home alone, so can you just wait for, like, three more seconds?" He wasn't even looking at you as he said it, instead he was pressing the soldering iron to some metal. You scoffed. Like you were so frail you couldn't walk fifteen minutes on your own.

"Are you serious? Do you think I'm vulnerable because, what, I have a vagina? I've taken self-defense classes, thank you very much." Your tone was poisonous, and you tried to infuse every drop of venom you had in you at his stupid idea. Anakin finally looked up from the bench, turning the iron off and cleaning it in the steel wool, catching your eyes with an angry glare.

"No, dumbass. You're just less likely to get robbed in this part of town if you're not alone. But do what you want, I guess. Have fun getting all your valuables taken!" He shrugged sardonically and turned off the vent fan above him. Anakin was right, it killed you to admit. You didn't exactly feel safe walking home at 3am through this part of town. There were enough reports of students getting hurt. So you planted yourself in your chair and waited. When he saw you, a smug smile grew on his face. Asshole.

"C'mon, let's go home," he said nonchalantly once he'd shut down and locked the woodworking room and the laser cutters. As you walked home, this time at a comfortable pace and with his headphones off, you realized it was almost nice, peaceful to be with him like this. The night was still, not a single thing moving in the dark of the night. You passed the corner store, its graffiti-covered grate down at night, then the Vietnamese restaurant you loved, dark and empty. There was no one on the planet but the two of you at that moment. Much to your chagrin, you didn't mind it at that moment. Anakin looked even more ethereal in the moonlight, lighting up the light parts of his hair a silvery white and casting shadows all over his face. He really was handsome, you admitted reluctantly. When you got home, he wished you a good night, which he had never gone. You found the word escaping your lips out of habit. After that, your walking home at the same time turned into walking home together. On November the 8th, he asked you how you were doing. You told him you were good, your tone clipped. He echoed good into the quiet street, then you lapsed into silence. On the 10th, he asked if Ahsoka was feeling better. She had sprained her ankle at practice the previous day. You told him she was, and he said good again. On the 11th, he asked how your project was going, and, in a fit of weakness, you told him it wasn't great. That you were nervous about your first real test of the finished product, the one that would tell you if the past three months had been wasted or not. He told you that if anyone could do it, it would be you, and you spend the rest of the walk wondering where the insult buried inside the statement was hiding. Later that night, once you had tucked into bed, you realized there wasn't any insult at all, just genuine encouragement. For the next week, your walks were filled with slightly guarded conversation, sometimes about upcoming homework assignments, but sometimes about how the taekwondo team was doing, or if you thought Professor Yoda's ear hairs were a countable or uncountable infinity. But he was still an asshole.

About a week later, you were alone with Anakin in the lab around midnight, working on a piece of the lens, trying to get the refraction just right before the test run, when your phone buzzed. Midterm Grade Posted for PHYS 485: Thermodynamics. Your heart stopped. You had been hoping and praying that the number of hours you'd poured into your thesis wouldn't come back to bite you in terms of classwork, but now was the moment of truth. You opened the notification, then to the Canvas page, where you saw your grade. 38/100. Everything in the world stopped. How could you have fucked up that badly? Your eyes scanned over instructor comments. Average class grade: 40/100. Maximum grade: 49/100. Okay, okay. It would be curved up, and you'd probably get a B, but you were below average for the first time in your life. Fuck. Fuck. How could this happen? You glared at Anakin, who was screwing in a bolt to the metal scaffolding of his project. That motherfucker was probably the one who got 49. The thought made you so angry you bolted out of your chair and went to go grab the materials for your test. That motherfucker got everything. It wasn't fair.

You lined up the small device you made, plugged it into the port of your phone, and opened the corresponding software. Through the external lens, you scanned the two printed-out pictures of eyes, one with glaucoma and one without. You held your breath throughout the loading screen. Please, just let one thing go right. Please. Please. The little loading circle stopped. Both eyes were cleared of glaucoma. A false negative. Motherfucker. Three months of work, and for what? You'd never get the prize at this rate. You'd have to start from scratch. You slammed your fist onto the table in anger.

"Hey, there's hammers for that," Anakin called, teasing from the other side of the room. He looked up at you, mouth open to snark something else out, when he saw your eyes welling with tears.

"Woah, are you okay? What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?" His voice was soft, warm. Anakin dropped the wrench he was holding on the table and half-jogged over to you, putting his hand on your shoulder. You jumped at the contact, but it wasn't entirely unwelcome. It was kind of comforting, actually, but you were too upset to notice that.

"It's just, it's not working, and I've spent so much time and--" you trailed off.

"Don't cry, it's okay, we can fix it," he said with a shrug and a smile. Why was he smiling? God, was he actually pleased right now? Suddenly, your tears turned to anger, not at yourself or the system or the difficulty of your project, but at him.

"Like you're not happy about this. I bet you sabotaged it yourself," you spat out and shrugged his hand off your shoulder. He balked.

"Sabotage? Are you serious? I'd never do that." You stood up, incensed, and pointed a finger into his chest.

"Really? It sounds exactly like something you would do--remember in sophomore year when Barriss's robot mysteriously stopped working?" He half laughed, half scoffed, mouth dropping open, then snapped back with his voice raised.

"You've got to be kidding! Maybe if you paid two seconds of attention to your classmates or anyone around you, you'd know it was her wiring! The connections were bad!"

"Sure," your voice dripped with sarcasm as you scoffed at his insult, "And when you told her it served her right? You were so smug!" Your voice was rising. He ran a hand through his hair and bit out another laugh as he retorted.

"And if I was? Like you're not the queen of being smug in this department. 'Oh, my robot's better, Anakin. I got an A, Anakin.'" He raised his voice high, mocking you. His eyes were wild, furious.

"Me? Smug? Look in the mirror, asshole! Pretend all you want, but I know who you are. You can pretend to be oh-so-nice to everyone else, but I see you for what you really are. Just. A. Fucking. Asshole." You emphasized each word with a jab of your finger, getting closer to him each time. The tension between you was turning somehow--were you losing the argument? You couldn't tell.

"Oh yeah? You don't know a single thing about me," he gritted out, right up in your face, jaw flexing. His intense eyes bored into yours, flicking back and forth, and then they dropped down to glance at your lips.

You weren't sure which one of you moved first, but all you felt was his lips against yours and your hands fisting in his hair, which it turned out was as perfectly soft as you had imagined. Bastard. Anakin's kisses were hot, insistent against your mouth as you sloppily made out in the middle of the lab. His arms, warm and firm, circled your waist and pulled you to him while you tilted your heads this way and that to get closer. Your tongue swiped his lower lip, and he treated you to a surprised, low moan that you wanted to hear again and again until your ears bled. He got your hint, though, and started teasing your lips with his tongue until you opened your mouth just enough to touch your tongue to his. His arms tightened and pulled you against him so that you could feel his warmth from chest to thigh. The two of you were frantic, like if you got close enough, deep enough in each others' mouths, you'd figure out why you were doing this and why it felt so goddamn good. Your heart was pounding when his hands slipped lower and grabbed you under your ass.

"Jump," he whispered huskily after he reluctantly separated his mouth from yours. You hopped, and he used the hands under your thighs to lift you up and sit you on the lab table. Dutifully, you wrapped your legs around his hips, interlocking your ankles around his unfairly attractive ass, and kept your hands buried in his hair. Anakin was back on your lips immediately. He was sloppy and excited until you shifted your hips against him, and then he became electric against you, even hungrier than before. You were definitely feeling something underneath your hips, a lump. It hit you that he was hard, and that sent a bolt of lightning between your legs. You'd stared a little bit more than you cared to admit that time he'd worn gray sweatpants, and what you'd seen was now pressed against you. You drew in a shaky breath at that idea, and you realized that God, he smelled like metal from his soldering earlier and, underneath that, sandalwood and vanilla.

Sometime around the time his hips tilted forward into yours, a beep echoed through the empty lab. You both jumped apart, leaving you sitting on the table, and the noise continued. Beep beep beep. The insistent noise came from one of the 3D printers in the corner. Anakin's print was done.

The silence of the lab felt deafening as you both panted. What had you done? Making out with your enemy was completely against lab safety guidelines, for one, and your morals, for another. Your heart was still pounding in your chest, despite your misgivings, but you willed those wisps of excitement deep down into some mental box. This couldn't happen. If there was a single person on this campus you couldn't fuck, it was Anakin. Not only was he rude, but if you got too close, how would you navigate it when only one of you won? Most importantly, though, you had hated him for four years. And for good reason. (Though you couldn't remember exactly what it was, or think critically at all, in that moment.)

"We shouldn't do that again, Anakin." Your voice was small in the empty space. For a second, his face fell, but he pressed his lips into a thin line to disguise it.

"Definitely not. I--Sorry." And that was that.

You walked home in complete silence, stealing glances at one another in the dark night. When you got to the door of your dorm, you opened your mouth to say something, but then closed it. Better not. So why, once you separated, did you feel so sad? Why did you want to see him again, to feel that silky hair under your fingers in your bed? You laid awake until the early hours of the night, and told yourself that your fingers slipping inside the waistband of your pajamas wasn't about Anakin, you just hadn't gotten some in way too long. It wasn't about Anakin. Even though it was his mouth and chest and arms you thought about when you came on your fingers, it wasn't about him.

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[souliebird]

[[and then i met you || ch 16]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Words: 4.4k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

You dream of hands. 

They are strong, calloused, and scarred, but they are so gentle with you. They dance over your skin, tracing over your belly to your sides and go down to your thighs. They come back up, pushing your panties to the side and examine your most intimate areas, and though you feel desire radiating from them, they do not cross the line into deviant behavior. They do not tease - they explore and memorize and make you feel like something precious. 

Once they have soaked themselves in the slick your body can't help but produce, they slide up to just under your belly button and rest there. Everything inside you flutters at the gesture and your body craves to be full - for the hands to feel the push back of a life moving inside you.

They don't linger long - only enough to make you squirm and gasp - before they are moving again. They drag up your center, skirting your breast like they dare not indulge.

They wrap around your throat and give a small squeeze. They are powerful and could crush you without a thought, but they don't. They release you and continue upward. They brush your cheeks, and when a thick digit pushes past your lips and you begin to suckle at it, you finally wake. 

Your bedroom is filled with bright sunlight, and you groan with disappointment. 

Your instinct tells you to roll into your pillow and try to continue sleeping but your mind is faster than your body and groggy memories of the day before beat against your skull. 

Your ear has no problems reminding you that you are ill. As you come more into consciousness, you become aware of how much it aches and how overly warm you feel. You vaguely remember being woken up to have ear drops put in and to coaxed into drinking water. There are flashes of sweet words and praise and being held while you drift back to sleep and gentle little kisses all over your face. 

You force your eyes to open and are greeted by the cartoonishly large ones of Scooby. He's right beside your pillow, like he's watching over you, and he's been maneuvered into wearing Minnie’s miniature doctor's coat with her bright pink toy stethoscope clamped around his neck. Your heart sings with love for your little girl and you hug the stuffed dog to your chest, burying your nose in his oversized head. 

How in the world did you get a daughter who is so pure and full of compassion and love? It certainly isn't genetic - you don't think your parents knew what compassion was. If this is from what you have taught her, then maybe, just maybe, you have finally done something right with your life. 

You stay hugging Doctor Scooby until your bladder complains and you force yourself out of bed. 

Your phone is nowhere to be seen, but you don't worry about it too much - you only wanted to check the time. You have a feeling it's around midday, but you can't be too sure - all you know is it feels like you slept forever. 

You grab a change of clothes, then head to the bathroom, bringing your toddler assigned guardian with you. After you take care of business, you take the time to clean yourself up a bit before changing into fresh clothing. It does wonders to improve how you feel. Your ear still throbs, and you feel stiff, but you don't feel like you've been wallowing in your own sweat. 

As you clean up your small mess, you note the carefully arranged bottles in your bathtub have been switched around. Minnie’s shampoo is in the wrong place and instead of any annoyance, you find yourself smiling. 

Matt must have given her a bath. You can imagine how it went, as your daughter enjoys getting clean and playing with all her water-based toys. She also adores helping and following directions, and you can picture her instructing her Daddy on how to wash her hair just right. 

You would have thought you'd never trust Minnie with someone so soon after meeting them - there's no way you'd let any of your friends give her a bath - but with Matt it is so easy. He wants so much to be a good father and he and Mouse already have such a good bond. You are just sad you missed their first bath time together. 

You take Doctor Scooby and your dirty clothes and leave the bathroom. Your clothes go into the hamper, then you and the toy dog make your way to the living room. You can hear the television going, but it's too low to make out what is playing, and your daughter giggling. The noise warms your heart, and you yearn for her. 

The scene you come upon is something you don't expect - Matt is sitting cross legged on the ground, back facing you, with Minnie standing right in front of him. On the coffee table beside her, her toy makeup kit is laid out, with all the different brushes scattered everywhere. Your daughter has a look of pure concentration on her face as she examines her father, a tube of what you know to be roll on glitter clutched in her little fist.

Matt must be getting his first princess makeover.

You can't hold back the delighted noise that comes from your soul at the realization and that of course catches both of their attention.

“Mommy!” 

A rocket made of brown curls and a yellow sundress crashes into your waiting arms. You squeeze her tight, trying to absorb her into your being, along with the Scooby plush. The hug only lasts a moment, as she quickly pulls back, slaps her little hands onto your cheeks, and declares, “You're still sick!”

You push your face into her touch, and give a sad laugh, guilt bubbling in your belly, “I am, I'm sorry, Mouse. But I feel better now, I promise.”

She purses her lips at you before dropping her hands from your face and says in an authoritative voice, “Doctor Scooby says you need more sleep.”

You look down at the toy still in your arms, then hold him up to be face to face with Minnie, “My body doesn't want to sleep anymore. Do you think it would be okay if I came out here to be with my family, Doctor Scooby?”

She takes the dog from you and jams his mouth to her ear. She pouts and goes, “uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay,” before turning him so he is looking at you and you feel like you're being judged by him. “He says you have to stay on the couch. And no cookies!”

“No cookies?” Matt asks from behind Minnie, and you finally tear your eyes away from her to look at him. You have to bite your lip, so you don't laugh.

Mouse has gone above and beyond with her princess makeover. 

Baby pink eyeshadow has been smeared over his eyelids, up to his thick eyebrows, and blended out to have a border of blue sparkles. His cheeks are rouged enough to make a flapper jealous, and a deep purplely-red stain has been carefully applied to his lips. Or as carefully as a three-year-old can do, which means the scruff around his mouth now has a nice tint to it. To top off his look, stick-on gems have been placed around his eyes, and the deep red color and shape of them mimic the glasses he typically wears.

He looks absolutely fabulous, and you need to find your phone so you can send pictures to Foggy and Karen.

“No cookies,” Minnie confirms, waving her plush at you to get your attention back onto her. 

“Okay, no cookies,” you agree. You don't know if you actually have any cookies in the pantry to eat, anyways, so this will be an easy rule to follow. “And I have to stay on the couch?”

Minnie nods vigorously, “Doctor's orders!”

“Okay, if the doctor says so.” 

You push yourself back into standing and your daughter takes your hand to practically march you over to the couch. You plop down in your corner and not a moment later, Scooby is back in your arms. Then, Minnie is zooming away from you and to the kitchen, calling back, “Daddy, I need help, please, thank you!”

Matt beams at you as he stands up and even with his face used as a coloring book, he looks handsome as ever, “I'm coming, my love.” His voice is full of joy and pride, and while you feel guilty, he is stuck babysitting while you're recovering, he clearly doesn't feel the same. You have the suspicion that every time Minnie calls him ‘Daddy’, his heart grows bigger. 

You don't turn to spy as Matt disappears from your view. Your phone is on the table behind Minnie’s make up kit, so you grab that then pull the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrap yourself in it after adjusting to get a little more comfortable. 

There are no urgent or interesting notifications waiting for you - a few emails about sales and calendar reminders about upcoming bills that need to be paid. You swipe them away then turn your focus to the television. It is one of the educational videos about animals your little one has started watching in preparation for her birthday trip to the zoo. The date is coming up fast and you wonder if she's been telling Matt about all the animals she's excited to see. You can't wait to take her to the park for her special day. 

Minnie brings you from your thoughts with another yell of, “Mommy!” She hurries into your view and your heart swells with love. She's holding your water bottle, which she shoves at you, “Doctor Scooby says…he says you have to stay hide-rated. I asked Daddy what that means and he said you gotta drink lots of water! I got you water!”

You take your bottle and have to resist the urge to take her up in your lap as well. Your little angel is so sweet and thoughtful, and you very much want to wrap her up in your arms and never let go. 

“Thank you so much, sweetie, I'll make sure to keep hydrated. Promise,” you tell her, fully meaning to do just that. You try to drink a lot of water anyways, so it shouldn't be hard to accomplish. 

Minnie, however, either doesn't believe you or is over eager to take care of you. She grabs a hold of one of your legs and shakes it as hard as she can, demanding “Drink!” She drags out the word in a way only a toddler can and to soothe her, you take a long sip of water. 

“What else did Doctor Scooby say?” Matt asks as he returns from the kitchen, and you can feel the grin in his words. 

Mouse takes in the question, swaying slightly as she thinks, then breaks out into a big grin as she recites, “Lots of rest and…and a ...a towel on her ear! To help the ickies!” 

“Exactly,” Matt practically cooes as he scoops up his daughter, swinging her around before securing her on his hips. He tilts his head towards you, looking proud as can be, “I think we have a little doctor on our hands.”

“I'm gonna be a veteran!” Minnie declares, puffing up her chest. 

You know she means veterinarian and decide you aren't going to correct her. Instead, you're going to tease her about her past career goals, “I thought you wanted to be a hot dog vendor?”

Her eyes get wide at the reminder, and she quickly amends, “I'm gonna do that on the weekend!”

“So, veteran during the week and hot dog vendor on the weekend?” Matt confirms, blue sparkly eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah!”

You and Matt both huff in laughter and your little one beams at the attention. 

You take in Matt's appearance, with his devastatingly handsome face and boyish charm and a warmth churns in your belly. To push away those feelings, you ask, “are you still going to have time to give Daddy makeovers with all that work?”

Minnie looks at Matt and analyzes him, before starting to wiggle to be put down, “you need says-or-eases!” You guess she isn't done with him yet and talks of her future will have to wait.

He sets her on the ground, asking, “I need what?” but she doesn't acknowledge him, running off to the bedroom to grab more of her toys. You watch as he moves his head in minute movements, brow wrinkling up. He must be trying to figure out what his daughter is fetching. 

“What is she getting?” Matt finally asks you and you take a sip of water so swallow down any smugness you have.

“Accessories,” you clarify. “You can't have a makeover without getting some new accessories.”

He mouths the word, and you know he has no idea what is to come - Foggy’s nieces must be too old for dress up and makeovers. He remains standing until Minnie comes waddling back. She's carrying one of the purses you've gotten for her, and she's stuffed it full of costume jewelry and hair clips. She dumps it all out on the ground by Matt's feet with a demand of, “Sit, please, thank you!”

Bewildered, he does as he's told, and your daughter wastes no time trying to determine what looks best with his makeup. She holds a necklace up, looking between it and him before setting it aside with a ‘no!’ This happens again and again as she goes through her necklaces, then clip-on earrings and bangles - none of which fit over Matt's hands and are abandoned - and finally hair clips. 

You enjoy the process, sitting back and letting yourself wake up as Minnie describes each accessory to her Daddy as she decides if it matches the aesthetic. You snap photos to send to your new friends and Matt is good enough to even pose for a few. 

The final look consists of a giant yellow heart necklace, blue teardrop dangle earrings, and Beauty and the Beast hair bow. He looks very dashing, and you tell him as much as you send the end product over to Foggy and Karen. 

“If hot dog vending doesn't work out, your side hustle can be as a stylist,” you tease and Minnie beams at you, enjoying the praise. Matt examines what he is wearing, carefully touching the plastic jewelry to better understand what he looks like as Mouse reminds him of the colors. 

As they do that, you check the time. It is a little past Nap Time, so once the conversation starts to change, you address your daughter, “Would you like to clean up your toys and get some juice?” 

You know she knows this transition and she doesn't hesitate to nod and start to act. She starts with the things on the floor, stuffing them back into her purse and Matt jumps into Dad-mode. 

“What type of juice do you want, Mouse?”

“Apple juice, please, thank you.” 

“Half juice, half water,” you advise as he carefully navigates out of the living area. 

“Is the cup from last night, okay? The sippy one?”

“The bunny one!” Is the almost haughty reply. The pink bunny is the pre-nap juice cup, and you think a fit might be thrown if tradition isn't followed, so you untangle yourself from the blanket and go to the kitchen. Luckily, no one calls you out for leaving the couch. 

You smile at Matt as you pass him, and explain, “I ordered water resistant Braille label stickers but haven't finished putting them on all her things yet.” You open the cabinet that holds all of her various cups and pull out the correct one, then pass it over. “This one I did label.”

Matt takes it and runs his fingers over the surface until he finds the Braille, “Pink with bunnies. For Juice. Nap Time.” His face relaxes into something soft as he retraces the words. You don't know how descriptive you need to be with everything, but you know you don't need to spell everything out for him. His lips twitch into a smile and he whispers to you, “thank you,” before turning to the fridge to get out the juice. 

You don't want to make things awkward by lingering, so you shuffle back to the couch and reclaim your spot. Matt joins you a minute later, setting the sippy cup on the table. 

Mouse finishes cleaning up her toys rather quickly, then grabs her juice and crawls up to be between the two of you. You change the television over to one of the Pre-Nap shows - something calming to help everyone wind down - and out of the corner of your eye, you see your daughter snuggle into her Daddy's side and begin to sip her juice. Matt wraps his arm around her shoulders and begins to oh so gently pet over her arm. 

She's out before she finishes her juice. 

You don't miss the opportunity to take more pictures of Matt looking down at Minnie. You know he can't see her with his eyes, but you wonder what input he is getting and if he knows how sweet the pair of them look. 

You sit silently and wait until you're sure she won't wake up, then reach to gently touch Matt's shoulders, “Do you want to put her in her bed?”

He nods slowly, his whole being screaming with love for his little girl. You take the sippy cup away as he carefully picks her up after standing and you watch as he cradles her to his chest. He stands there for a moment, holding her close, and you think he must be savoring the moment. 

You don't disturb him and after a minute, he starts towards the bedroom. You wait until he's disappeared down the hallway to get up and go pour out the remainder of Minnie’s juice. You clean the cup, then grab some skin friendly wet wipes - you have the feeling Matt may not want to keep wearing his makeup. It feels gummy on your skin so you can't imagine how irritating he finds it. 

You resettle on the couch and change from sleepy television to soul crushing television - the midday news. 

You usually like to catch the top stories and the weather before switching away, but given Nap Time came a little late today, you miss those. Instead, you tune into the host interviewing some politician and the headline bar tells you he's a senator and they are discussing the Connecticut explosion. You turn up the volume slightly, so you can actually hear it. 

“- leaked report states this was not an attack, but the attempted arrest of an Enhanced individual gone wrong. Allegedly, the destruction of a neighborhood and the 634 deaths, dozens of which were children, was all caused by one man with powers. What are your thoughts on this, Senator Kelly?”

You frown at the new information. One person caused all that pain? Or are they just blaming one individual? 

“Thank you for having me, Vicki,” the Senator says, and you already don't like him. He gives off a slimy vibe - like he doesn't care about anyone but himself. “I've read the report and I've been on the ground, talking to the people whose lives were destroyed, and I've got one question in mind:  why were the good people of Stamford not made aware they were living next to a bomb? This individual, whose identity is still being hidden, only released one attack. One!” 

Your eyes go wide at the statement. That can't be true. Can someone really have that much power inside of them? You can understand people like Iron Man with a bunch of missiles strapped to him, but someone who is Enhanced?

“What do you propose, Senator?” Vicki asks and something like dread turns in your stomach. 

Matt reenters the room just as the vile man begins speaking again. He comes to stand by the couch, putting his hand on the cushion behind your shoulder.

“The American people deserve to know who they are living next to. We implemented this policy for sexual deviants, and we should do the same for these so-called Enhanced Individuals! The Sokovia Accords talks about registering ‘super heroes’,” Kelly uses air quotes around the word, a disgusted look on his face, “but this man wasn't a hero. He was a literal ticking time bomb and who knows how many more Enhanced Individuals are out there just like him. How would you feel if your neighbor could blow up your house with a wave of their arm, or walk through your walls, or Heaven-forbid, control you with their mind? S.H.I.E.L.D showed us all those people existed! How are we supposed to protect ourselves against that? Whose stopping those people from causing the next Sokovia, or Lagos, or Stamfo-”

You turn off the television. You can't hear any more of that man's rancid words and implications. 

You tilt your head up to look at Matt and your heart pangs for him. He's openly scowling and in the corner of your eye, you see him gripping the couch cushion tightly. 

Your body acts without thought and you reach up to squeeze his bicep, “Matt...?”

“He's talking about people like they are uncontrollable weapons,” he grinds out, “this is McCarthy Era ‘everyone who isn't you is a threat’ bullshit.”

“I know,” you say to try to soothe some of the anger you see boiling in him. You understand the anger and you are angry, too. You think Matt falls under the umbrella of ‘Enhanced Individuals’ and if so, Minnie does as well. It terrifies you that someone who is supposed to be running the country is spitting out such words, but you want to believe he's in the fringe. You want to believe your government doesn't think your daughter is a threat just because she's different. “He's vile.”

With his free hand, Matt wipes at his mouth, still looking furious, “everything he is saying goes against the Constitution. People have the right to privacy.”

You gently tug on his arm, and he takes the signal to come around and sit beside you. You turn to face him, and he does the same, and you decide to take the initiative. You want him to feel better. 

You are slow with your movements, so he can figure out your intentions, and unclip the bow from his hair. His eyes flutter shut before he takes a deep, calming breath, “I can't believe they let people like him on the news.”

You hum, then remove his necklace before going for the earrings, “I can. They love to stir the pot and giving those horrible people airtime gets them more views. They don't care about what's being said, only how much money they are getting for it “

“That's bleak,” he grumbles.

“It's better than the networks believing that bullshit,” you reply, as you pluck the red gems from his face. That makes him huff and a little smile form on his lips.

“You're good at this.”

“At what?” You ask as you set aside the jewelry on the table and grab the wet wipes. 

“Defusing the situation, turning the negative into a positive,” he says. He keeps his eyes closed as you start to wipe away the makeup Minnie caked onto him, starting with his rouge. 

“Is it a positive the news wants money instead of spewing hate?” You counter, a little bit of a tease in your voice. He reaches out and squeezes your knee and you can't help but smile. “Though, I guess it is better to be a capitalist than a Nazi.”

“That's the American way of thinking,” Matt jokes and you have to stop cleaning away the makeup so you can both laugh. 

You fall back into silence as you start in on his eye shadow. He keeps his hand on your knee, slowly beginning to rub his thumb back and forth over your sweats. You can practically see the tension bleeding out of his shoulders and a bit of pride swirls in your chest. You feel guilty for turning on and listening to the news in the first place. 

When it comes time for you to wipe away the stain on Matt's lips, you hesitate. 

You've been trying to ignore the feelings that have been slowly growing inside you. You thought of them as weeds - byproducts of Matt being naturally charming and kind and the father of your child. You know you are attracted to him - you slept with him, after all - but emotionally? 

You're terrified of that. 

You're terrified of him not returning the feelings.

You're terrified you only see what he allows you to see, and when the facade drops, someone else will appear. 

You're terrified of messing everything up - for yourself. For Minnie. 

You don't want to think of your dreams, where you know it's him you are imagining. You don't want to think about how perfect it felt to be held by him and know you were safe. You don't want to think about how he still hasn't left you since you had to be taken to the hospital. 

You can't fall down that rabbit hole. It's too much for you. 

So, you try to rip away the things growing inside you before they bloom and push forward. You fold the wet wipe in half and begin to remove the last of the makeup. You don't rush, taking just as much care as you had getting rid of the blue sparkles.

“All done,” you say as you finish and pull away from him, turning purposefully so his hand slides off your leg. You pretend to not notice and focus on balling up the used wipes.

“Thank you,” he responds quietly, turning as well so he's facing the television once again. You fear things are going to dip into awkwardness, but Matt speaks again before you get to say something stupid. His words are soft and steady, but strike fear into your heart.

“There was something I wanted to talk with you about.” 

You try to swallow down your anxiety and tell yourself that this isn't about your silly emotions - whatever Matt has to say must be regarding Minnie. It's the only thing that makes sense, so you come out a small “Yeah?”

“I wanted to talk to you about my mother.”

--

tag list:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

 @petrovafire39 @allllium

@anehkael @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

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@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

[smeller-b]

Please help a homeless trans woman survive!

09/06/24- IMMEDIATE NEED: $100 to cover an overdraft fee and get her some food.

VENM0 @ruby_arnone $rubyk01 PayPl

DETAILS: Charlotte has been sleeping outside with her dog and the weather is getting colder. She is very sick from cancer, covid complications, and injuries after being assaulted. I am grateful for the help she’s gotten so far but with donations she has only barely kept up with immediate needs, and skipped meals most days. She NEEDS more support, which means saving for a vehicle to live in. The gofundme below shows a little over $800 raised but all of that has gone to survival expenses over the past 2 months! The actual progress is 0. Please consider donating using one of the methods above! I do not exaggerate when I say that continuing to live outside will kill her. Please show up for trans women while they are still alive.

[hope-ur-ok]

Surprise Song Master post ~ European Leg

5/9 Paris, FR: Paris + LOML

5/10 Paris, FR: Is It Over Now?/OOTW + My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

5/11 Paris, FR: Hey Stephen + Maroon

5/12 Paris, FR: The Alchemy / Treacherous + Begin Again / Paris

5/17 Stockholm, SE: I Think He Knows / Gorgeous + Peter

5/18 Stockholm, SE: Guilty As Sin? + Say Don't Go / Welcome to New York / Clean

5/19 Stockholm, SE: Message In A Bottle / How You Get The Girl / New Romantics + How Did It End?

5/24 Lisbon, PT: Come Back... Be Here / The Way I Loved You / The Other Side of the Door + Fresh Out the Slammer / High Infidelity

5/25 Lisbon, PT: The Tortured Poets Department / Now That We Don't Talk + You're On Your Own Kid / Long Live

5/29 Madrid, ES: Sparks Fly / I Can Fix Him (No Really Can) + I Look In People's Windows / Snow On the Beach

5/30 Madrid, ES: Our Song / Jump Then Fall + King of My Heart

6/2 Lyon, FR: The Prophecy / Long Story Short + Fifteen / You're On Your Own Kid

6/3 Lyon, FR: Glitch / Everything Has Changed + Chloe Or Sam Or Sophia Or Marcus

6/7 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: Would've Could've Should've / I Know Places + 'Tis the Damn Season / Daylight

6/8 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: The Bolter / Getaway Car + All of the Girls You Loved Before / Crazier

6/9 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: It's Nice To Have A Friend / Dorothea + Haunted / Exile

6/13 Liverpool, England UK: I Can See You / Mine + Cornelia Street / Maroon

6/14 Liverpool, England UK: This Is What You Came For / Gold Rush + The Great War / You're Losing Me

6/15 Liverpool, England UK: Carolina / No Body No Crime + The Manuscript / Red

6/18 Cardiff, Wales UK: I Forgot That You Existed / This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things + I Hate It Here / The Lakes

6/21 London, England UK: Hits Different / Death By A Thousand Cuts + The Black Dog / Come Back Be Here / Maroon

6/22 London, England UK: thanK you aIMee / Mean + Castles Crumbling w/ Hayley Williams

6/23 London, England UK: Us w/ Gracie Abrams + Out Of The Woods / Is It Over Now? / Clean

6/28 Dublin, IE: State of Grace / You're On Your Own Kid + Sweet Nothing / Hoax

6/29 Dublin, IE: The Albatross / Dancing With Our Hands Tied + This Love / Ours

6/30 Dublin, IE: Clara Bow / The Lucky One + You’re On Your Own Kid

7/4 Amsterdam, NL: Guilty as Sin? / Untouchable + The Archer / Question...?

7/5 Amsterdam, NL: imgonnagetyouback / Dress + You Are In Love / Cowboy Like Me

7/6 Amsterdam, NL: Sweeter than fiction / Holy Ground + Mary's Song / So High School / Everything Has Changed

7/9 Zürich, CH: Right Where You Left Me / All You Had To Do Was Stay + Last Kiss / Sad Beautiful Tragic

7/10 Zürich, CH: Closure / A Perfectly Good Heart + Robin / Never Grow Up

7/13 Milan, IT: The 1 / Wonderland + I Almost Do / The Moment I Knew

7/14 Milan, IT: Mr. Perfectly Fine / Red + Getaway Car / Out Of The Woods

7/17 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Superstar / Invisible String + "Slut!" / False God

7/18 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Speak Now / Hey Stephen + This Is Me Trying / Labyrinth

7/19 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Paper Rings / Stay Stay Stay + It's Time To Go / Better Man

7/23 Hamburg, DE: Teardrops On My Guitar / The Last Time + We Were Happy / Happiness

7/24 Hamburg, DE: The Last Great American Dynasty / Run + Nothing New / Dear Reader

7/27 Munich, DE: Fresh Out The Slammer / You Are In Love + Ivy / Call It What You Want

7/28 Munich, DE: I Don't Wanna Live Forever / Imgonnagetyouback + LOML / Don't You

8/1 Warsaw, PL: Mirrorball / Clara Bow + Suburban Legends / New Years Day

8/2 Warsaw, PL: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) / I Can See You + Red / Maroon

8/3 Warsaw, PL: Today Was A Fairytale / I Think He Knows + The Black Dog / Exile

8/15 London, England UK: Everything Has Changed / End Game / Thinking Out Loud w/Ed Sheeran + King Of My Heart / The Alchemy

8/16 London, England UK: London Boy + Dear John / Sad Beautiful Tragic

8/17 London, England UK: I Did Something Bad + My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys / Coney Island

8/19 London, England UK: Long Live / Change + The Archer / You're On Your Own Kid

8/20 London, England UK: Death By A Thousand Cut / Getaway Car w/Jack Antonoff + So Long, London

[phant0mth1ef]

'24 masterlist

bnha:

bakugou katsuki

headcanons

bakugou x support course reader hcs!

girl dad bakugou hcs!

band bakugou x band reader hcs!

bakugou x blunt support course reader hcs!

drabbles

the feeling that i'm losing her, forever (bakugou x reader angst sorta) part 2 part 3 part 4

bakugou x support course reader! part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

this boy's too young to be singing the blues / part 2 & part 3

forever young, i want to be forever young

too young to notice and too dumb to care, love was a story that couldn't compare.

i kissed the scars on her skin, i still think you're beautiful.

you'll never know the murderer sitting next to you

i don't know how i'ma manage, if one day you just up & leave.

if he cheating i'm doing him worse, no uno i hit the reverse.

if you could see 'em now, you'd be proud

clearing out your apartment

you're a part-time lover & a full time friend!

fuck the big 3, it's just big ME

you wonder why i'm bitter

icu scenario

scary? my god, you're divine.

all my friends are heathens, take it slow.

i think i just met my dad in 1985

a scrub is a guy that thinks he's fly.

i love my sister more than anything in this life, i will choose her happiness over mine everytime.

i bet on losing dogs.

cause when you know, you know.

you wanna be one of them? yeah. pt 2.

don't wanna be a fool for you.

when i'm around, slow dancing in the dark.

i've never felt so alone, felt so alone.

oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, they both-, oh yes.

bakugou x reader with dark body hair

was it casual when you told me you loved me?

guess i don't have a choice, all because i liked a boy.

fics! all currently ongoing

bakugou x streamer y/n: intro ch.1 ch. 2 ch.3 ch.4 ch.5 ch.6 ch.7

bakugou x popstar reader: intro ch. 1 ch.2 ch.3

euphoria: limitless / the alchemy / prologue ch.1

kaminari:

if he cheating i'm doing him worse, no uno i hit the reverse.

multi-character:

graffiti artist reader!

no character just drabbles:

four men in uniform, to carry home, my little soldier.

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 2 ⬅ ch. 1

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. drinking. wc 2.3k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | so glad you're all liking the story so far! hope you like this chapter as well. like i mentioned before, i havent actually played this game lmao so pls excuse any plot inaccuracies. i'm going off of wikipedia and lets plays of the game on youtube. there will definitely be plot points that don't quite line up with the actual game. oh and just fyi, i do not have a tag list. sorry!!

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you awoke the following morning with a splitting headache, someone shaking you back and forth only increasing the pain. you squinted your eyes open to see your friend leaning over you. 

“what?” you said through gritted teeth, not holding back any snark. 

“smith and jamerson got pulled into something early this morning. you’re the only medic on base and gaz is bleeding out in the infirmary.”

you shot up in bed, almost slamming foreheads with your friend. “shit. why didn’t you start with that?” you hissed, stumbling out of bed and blindly yanking on clothes.

it didn’t take you long to appear in the cold and barren infirmary, a laughing gaz stretched out on a bed filling your vision when you came storming in. 

he was laughing?  

“gaz,” you began, approaching him. he looked away from ghost, who had apparently been bearable enough to make kyle laugh whilst ‘bleeding out’. 

gaz mimicked you and repeated your name, a stupid grin on his face. 

“i was told you were bleeding out,” you said with a bit of annoyance on your tongue as you slowly strolled up to the man. 

“well, i am bleeding,” he said, holding his hand up, poorly wrapped in white linen that had turned a rusty red. 

you rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, turning it over in your own. “did you do this?” you asked, referring to the shitty bandage job. 

“not bad, right?” he said with a cheeky grin.

“you’ve got to be kidding, gaz,” your fingers came up to grip the bridge of your nose. “look at it. it's so loose that dirt and debris have gotten into it. you’ll get an infection if i don’t redo it.” you shook your head. “how long has it been like this?”

“several hours, i think.” gaz looked at ghost who ever so slightly shook with a silent laugh. “i dont know, i think i did a pretty fabulous job, but if you insist.” his words were soft and airy and you cocked a brow at him. 

“he’s doped up,” ghost’s guttural voice said from beside you. that would explain gaz’s nonchalance. “got properly decked in the ribs. wouldn’t be surprised if he broke a couple.”

your eyes narrowed at gaz. “gaz,” you said exhaustedly with a hint of reprimand. he looked at you with puppy-dog eyes and you stifled a giggle. 

you went to work on gaz, checking his ribs for fractures and cleaning and rebandaging his hand. you were trying excruciatingly hard to not think about ghost’s eyes on you as you moved about the room. you could feel his glare like flames licking your skin.

finished with gaz, you switched gears and went to ghost’s bedside. he had refused to sit still and had his feet hanging over the edge while he cleaned one of his guns. he looked up at you and you could have sworn you saw something like reverence in his eyes. 

you went to change ghost’s bandages now, gaz already snoring behind you, making you smile to yourself. 

“goin’ back t’my room today,” ghost told you.

“that’s not a good idea, l.t.” you gently nudged his chest and he sat the gun down beside him and laid back. your fingertips lit like a match at just the small physical contact. 

“well good thing I wasn’t askin’.”

why did he always have to be so blunt? you grit your teeth as you finished up, avoiding any unnecessary contact with his skin. 

“i’ll only need to keep an eye on you the next two days. just to make sure there's no infection. then it’s easy sailing from there. i’ll show you how to clean–”

“i’m not daft. been hurt before. didn’t have some medic on call then, either.”

some medic. you weren’t sure why that stung. you felt stupid all of a sudden; of course he’s been injured before. he likely knew the drill like the back of his hand. you suspected under all his gear there were battle wounds that would take a full day just for him to go over the story behind each one.

“well, only two more days with me. then i’ll be out of your hair,” you mumbled.

you felt pathetic for wanting him to reply. to assure you that you didn’t annoy him or that he didn’t mind seeing you. but he just remained silent until you turned and left the room. 

you found soap later that day digging through papers sprawled out on the coffee table before him. “didn’t know you could read,” you teased. 

he looked up at you with a grin. you stood behind him to get a look at what he was reading. “jus’ goin’ over the dossier for our next mission.”

“ our ?” you questioned.

“since you’re the only medic available at the moment. yes, you’ll be coming along for the ride.”

“oh, don’t i feel so special,” you said sarcastically. 

“i woulda asked for you regardless.”

“didn’t know you could make medic requests.”

“ya can’t.”

you collapsed next to him on the couch, sighing before you glazed over the words on the sheets. 

“wait, ‘Hassan’?” you said perking up and pointing to the man’s name. “this seems serious.” you looked at soap with concern. 

“not gonna be an easy one, that’s for sure.”

“but, soap, i can barely use a gun, let alone fight. this seems like i might get killed if…” you trailed off, your heart beginning to race. you weren’t used to going along for intimate missions like this. you usually were held back at base or brought alongside a slew of other medics. but with everyone else gone… 

“don’t worry, lass,” he said bumping your shoulder with his own. “we’ll get ya trained up. it’s not for another two weeks when Hassan should be in Al Mazrah.”

that didn’t exactly make you feel any better. these men have been training their whole life. and you got two weeks?

soap could see the worry spread across your visage. “you’ll have me, gaz, price, and ghost to protect ya.”

“no,” you shook your head. “i can’t become a liability. you guys will have far more important things to focus on.”

“yer not a liability . we need you. there's a good chance that if we capture Hassan, he’ll be hurt. it’s crucial we keep him alive.”

“and that’s where i come in,” you said gloomily. 

“you’re there for us too,” he said smiling at you. soap always did appreciate everything the medics did for the team. he never treated you any differently than the other soldiers. you leaned against him, your heart racing at the idea of what was to come. 

it was late at night when ghost was due for another cleaning. you made it to his door and softly knocked. you paused a moment but didn’t hear anything in return so you quietly pushed the door open. 

the room was dark but you could see the faint silhouette of ghost hunched over on the edge of his bed. your hand hit the wall, searching for the light switch.

“wait,” his deep voice rumbled. you paused all movement and heard the soft rustle of fabric as ghost shuffled. you saw the illuminated outline of him as he pulled his mask over his face. your heart skipped a beat realizing he was sitting in here without it on. “okay.”

you ticked the light switch and met his eyes immediately. he had on his thin balaclava as opposed to the usual hard plastic of his skull mask. it felt like he was naked.

“why don’t you let anyone see you?” you asked timidly. 

“why do you wanna see so bad?” he retorted, clearly already irritated with you. 

“i..” you paused, thinking momentarily. “it’s not that i want to see what you look like. but don’t you find it, i don’t know,” you gestured your hands around nervously, “a bit lonely?”

“lonely?”

“i feel like i’d be lonely if i was always guarded.”

ghost appraised you for a moment, making you squirm uncomfortably. “well, i’m not lonely,” he grunted. okay, end of conversation, you thought. 

you shifted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, “right. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean–”

“quit fuckin’ apologizing.”

you sucked in a sharp breath. “okay. sor–” before you could finish your sentence you stopped yourself. 

you watched ghost roll his eyes. why did upsetting him make you feel so disconcerted? you tried to wipe your face of all expression but you knew he would be able to tell his words wounded you. it wasn’t fair– he could read everything on your face, but all he gave you was his eyes.

you bit your lip then approached him, wanting to get this over with. “if you wanna take off your shirt,” you said absentmindedly as you set your med bag down on his bed beside him. 

he sat back slightly and hiked up his shirt, obviously not wanting to remove it fully. you weren’t sure why, but that made your face heat. it was a statement you’ve made a thousand times to men who had injuries on their torso or when you had to examine their chest. you hadn’t even thought about it when you said it. but when ghost clearly didn’t want to completely shed his clothes, you felt embarrassed, like you had asked for too much. and in a way, he was right. he didn’t need to completely be bare-chested for you to work on him. the wound was quite low on his abdomen. 

you swallowed your embarrassment and cleaned and rebandaged his stitches. you saw an array of goosebumps rise on ghost’s skin from your featherlight touches as you worked. you finished quickly before shoving all your supplies forcibly in your med bag. you needed out of there asap. 

you threw your bag on your shoulder and went to leave when ghost’s bare hands grabbed your wrist. he twirled you so effortlessly to face him again that it almost infuriated you. 

you sucked in a breath of air as you looked at him a bit dumbfounded. ghost thought for a moment, his hand still firmly around your wrist. 

“i don’t mean to be such an arse,” he grunted.

in a breathy tone you spoke back, “it’s fine. i don’t think that, you’re just—“

he cut you off. “no. i don’t have to be so fuckin' upfront with you all the time. you’re just tryin’ to do your job. i gotta remind myself your not one of my men.”

you nodded, holding in the hurt that echoed through you. he was being upfront with you? what did that mean? that he regrets just being honest? that wasn’t what you wanted to hear. you hated yourself for wanting him to say something along the lines of him just lashing out and he didn’t mean the shit he said to you. but he did mean the shit he said, he just regretted saying it out loud.

“not one of your men, right,” you repeated back. you weren’t one of his men. you were just a starstruck woman who had no fucking business working with the most elite men in the world. awesome. 

ghost’s eyes darted between yours as if he wanted to say something more. that maybe he didn’t like the sullen tone you used when repeating his words back to him. as if he might have actually not intended for that implication. you could have sworn you saw his lips move under his mask like he was contemplating telling you he didn’t mean it like that.

but he was silent. 

“really. it’s fine,” you mumbled. “i’ll see you tomorrow.” 

ghost breathed your name, all too easily deciphering the hurt in your words. you wanted to bash your head against the wall for being so obvious. he was right. you weren’t meant for this line of work. you were too soft.

oh my god, were you going to cry?!

you ignored the flutter in your belly when he said your name and scurried out of the room, wanting to drown out your embarrassment with a swig of whiskey. this seemed to be a pattern with you two–ghost saying something a bit too real, you getting hurt and running out of the room like a baby.

you found soap back where you left him and you waltzed over to him with a bottle of whiskey in hand. he looked up at you and gave you a cheeky grin. 

his smile shifted to something of concern when you deflated next to him on the sectional. 

“ghost give ya a hard time?” 

“no,” you lied. “just been a long day.”

soap took the bottle from you and took a drag. “long week, more like it.” 

you chuckled before taking a sip. you passed the bottle back and forth a few more times until your body buzzed and your mouth wouldn’t let you swallow any more of the foul liquid.

“how do you guys drink this shit?” you asked, making a face of disgust.

“years of self-hatred,” he grinned.

you slouched against him. 

“do you think i’m cut out for this? 

he flipped through the pages of the dossier before glancing at you. “cut out for what?”

you gestured around you. “this. working with you guys. working for the best of the best.”

“'course i fuckin’ do.” he gave you a quizzical look. “why would you even ask that?”

you shrugged, keeping your eyes off of him.

your name escaped his lips making you finally look up at him. “you’re here for a reason. price doesn’t let just anyone join his team. i’ve seen what you can do, lass. you’re part of the best of the best .”

you smiled making him grin at you in return. “no more of this shit, okay?” he said softly, his scottish accent getting heavier the more he drank. you found it comforting.

“okay,” you agreed. 

“now, lets find price so we can steal all his money with a few games of cards,” he said, lightly tapping your shoulder with his fist.

you laughed knowing good and well price could beat the two of you blindfolded.

chapter 3 ➡

[604to647]

Safest with You - Series Masterlist

Modern AU with Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din Djarin, retired mob enforcer, falls in love, but worries his past could put his future (you) in danger.

A/N: First time writer, please be gentle 🥹 This is a modern AU where Din is a former enforcer for the Fett family, and the world building and relationship development between Din and Reader takes place over many chapters. Some Star Wars names thrown in for fun, but there aren't meant to be any serious parallels to canon. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy my brain rot for everyone’s favourite tin man 🥰

Series warnings: Chapters with smut denoted with 🚑, chapters with angst denoted with ❤️‍🩹, fluff throughout. Individual instalment warnings are included in each post.

Ch. 1 (The Coffeeshop)

Ch. 2 (The Bookstore)

Ch. 3 (The Drycleaner)

Ch. 4 (The First Date)

Ch. 5 (The Courtship)

Ch. 6 (The Courtship, Din's POV) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 7 (The Third Date) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 8 (The Cab) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 9 (The Dam Breaks) 🚑

Ch. 10 (The Afterglow) 🚑

Ch. 11 (The Poker Game) (a summary)

Ch. 11 Addendum (After The Poker Game) 🚑

Ch. 12 (The Workout) 🚑

Ch. 13 (The Birthday)

Ch. 14 (The Subway) 🚑

Ch. 15 (The BBQ) 🚑

Ch. 16 (The Match-up) 🚑

Ch. 17 (The Preparations) 🚑

Ch. 18 (The Threat) 🚑 ❤️‍🩹 Inspo

Ch. 19 (The Betrayal) 🚑 ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 20 (The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 1)❤️‍🩹

Ch. 21 (The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 2)🚑 ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 22 (The Long Road to Forgiveness) 🚑 new! vibes

The Epilogue coming soon!

Art new!

Dog walk (@kenobiwanx commission 🙏🏻)

Bedtime (@pinkiemme Ch. 11A commission 🥹) 🚑 new!

One-shots and Drabbles (same AU)

All the one shots and drabbles can be slotted in the above timeline; as the chapters get written, I’ll note where they fit in. For now, consider the below to all be set when Din and Reader are in an established relationship (hence the smut 😂).

Carnival Fright Night 🚑 (set between Ch. 12 & 14)

Lingerie 🚑 (set anytime after Ch. 10) (Link to the Lingerie set)

The Wedding, Part 2 🚑 (insert btwn Ch. 17 & 18) (Moodboard by @hellishjoel - thank you!)

2 More Days (A Textfic) 🚑 - Part 1, Part 2 (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Holiday Remix (A Textfic) (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Let Me Carry It For You (SBowl 🏈 Drabble) (set right after Ch. 11)

The Mando Roll (Valentine’s Day Special) (set anytime after Ch. 10)

Hat Trick (set anytime after Ch. 12) Part 2 (The Playoffs) 🚑

Birthday Bunny 🚑 (HBD P! 🥳)

Gouda Girl (Happy Pedro Hours Challenge)

Thots

Alfredo’s the best dog

Favourite nook

Walking the dog

POV: On a date with Din

Naming of Mando’s Gym inspo

Working at Mando’s

Paz Vizsla face cast

Excellent boxing advice

Young boxer Din inspo

Series vibes and this amazing graphic by @gasolinerainbowpuddles (thank you!)

[kengan-daddies]

The Boy Next Door Baki HanmaX Motherly! Older Female Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

Anime : Baki: Son of Ogre Character : Baki Hanma Warning : Mention of child neglect, child abuse

The Boy Next Door Baki Hanma X Motherly! Older Female Reader

The Boy Next Door Baki Hanma X Motherly! Older Female Reader

Your morning routine has been modified and changed, it was hard but it was worth it. Waking up from your usual time to 5:00 a.m. Getting out of bed, and drinking coffee to give you a pep in your step. You took your usual wash-up routine, then you got dressed and did your makeup. You cooked an extra breakfast before eating your own, done any chores you could think of that needed to be done, and then you waited... And waited... And waited... Your alarm went off and you sprung into action. Jumping up you grabbed your bag, put your shoes on, and dashed outside, slamming the door behind you as you ran towards the sidewalk.

You stopped short, catching your breath quickly, fixing your skirt, checking to make sure you looked decent and then you walked a few steps, stepping on the sidewalk you looked towards the left, and you smiled. There he was, the reason why you changed your morning routine, the reason why you tried to look as nice as you could, the reason why you ran towards the sidewalk, the boy next door, Baki Hanma walked down the street. His little home was back behind him as he walked, one hand in his pocket while the other held his bag, looking lost in thought.

'Silly boy... He's always deep in thought at this time of morning.' You thought as you stared at him, your eyes looking over his built form hidden under his school uniform. 'He's grown so much over the years. It makes me oddly proud to see him like this.' You thought as you shifted your weight in your heels. He seemed to have noticed you, his face brightening up in a happy smile. 'He so cute, he's like a little dog.' You thought as you smiled back, waving at him. He started to a light jog as he sprinted towards you, slowing once he got close enough.

"Hey, (y/n). How have you been... I haven't seen you in a few days." He said a nervous gleam in his eyes as he stared down at you. You smiled up at him, placing a hand on your hip as you did. "Yeah, I was busy with work, my boss is a real ass, he gave me extra work last week making me do some major overtime." You explained, a relaxed smile on your face. "Oh... Damn, that really sucks actually." He said. Your smile widened as you gave him a hard pat on his chest. "Don't worry about it, I'm a tough lady ya know." You said as you playfully flexed your arm.

He chuckled at you, his eyes gleaming happily. "Yeah, I guess you are." He said. Your smile faded as a look of shock crossed your face as you snapped your fingers. "Oh yeah!! I almost forgot!!" You said as you opened your bag. He stared down at you in question. "Here you go, your lunch." You said as you held out the bento box towards him. He stared down at it, marveling at how you had the chopsticks in a case the box was a pretty blue with a golden dragon going across it, written in Kanji was his name.

He smiled as he saw it, happily grabbing it. "Thanks (Y/n), man I really missed your cooking." He said as he placed it carefully into his bag. You smiled. "Why thank you Baki, I'm glad you love it so much." You said, your chest swelling in pride. He chuckled. "It's hard not to, you make the best food." He said softly.

The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door

You both walked down the street together, waking through the crowds as you both spoke to one another, Baki wasn't much of a talker, he enjoyed hearing your voice, but it's been almost a week since you last spoke to one another, so Baki had a lot to tell you. He told you about all his fights and his newest friend who was a primitive man named Pickle. You shook your head as you heard about what happened to his friends. "My god, that's awful... To lose a limb..." You said, you couldn't imagine the gruesome pictures that Baki explained to you... "Don't see it as something terrible... See it as a badge of honor." Baki said. You looked up at him a look of confusion on your face.

"How is that a badge of honor, Baki? You lost a piece of yourself forever." You said in a scolding voice, he never looked down at you as you both walked together, a knowing smile on his face. "I'm not expecting you to understand, I don't expect anyone to even begin to grasp the understanding of it... It's such a deep meaning to a warrior when they lose a limb to a worthy opponent... It's a symbol of strength... A trophy to wear... It's a beautiful way of saying 'I survived from fighting my strongest opponent.' ... It's a beautiful thing really." He said. You stared up at him, a puzzling look on your face, it melted into a relaxed stare before you looked away from him, staring at the scenery before you a small smile gracing your face.

"You're right... I don't think I'll ever understand Baki, but I can accept it... Because it's something you love." You said. His eyes widened and he looked down at you. You never looked over at him, but the sweet, genuine look on your face and the tender gleam in your eyes remained. He smiled slowly as his eyes relaxed. The happy gleam in his eyes shone harder than before as he looked ahead of himself as well. 'Damn... She's one hell of a woman.' He thought.

The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door

You sat in your cubical, sighing tiredly as you hung up the phone, you leaned back in your chair, making it incline back, you raised your arms, stretching them high above your head as your back arches, you squealed in pleasure as you sighed, you relaxed against the chair, resting your elbow on the armrest as you held your head up. Your eyes closed as you listened to the phones ringing, hanging up, and people answering calls. The sound of rushed steps sounded out, the rustling of paper, stapling, printing, and shredding.

It was an atmosphere you've grown accustomed to but never really loved, but it brought you comfort from how familiar it was. 'I wonder how Baki's doing... I hope he's doing good in school, talking to friends having fun, learning... I wonder if he's still talking to that girl, I forget her name... Kozue??? That sounds about right, but I could be wrong, he doesn't speak about her often, but when he does he always looks so happy... Yet so troubled... I hope he didn't get into any more fights, but if he did I'll just have to bandage him up and give him a good lecture.' You thought, your eyes mindlessly roaming around your cubical.

Pictures of family and friends hung up on the walls of your cubical, your desk organized yet messy, your laptop open to a document page, sticky notes stuck to the frame of your laptop marking important dates and time frames from customers and employees. You sighed as you looked down at the bottom of your laptop screen checking the time. '11:40 am... It should be lunchtime for Baki, I wonder if he's enjoying his bento.' You thought as your chest filled with warmth at the thought of the young man.

'We go way back, he and I... He always loved those bento boxes I made him... He was always so grateful... He'd hold onto them for years, even after they were old and broken, and he'd place them on his shelf as souvenirs... He's always been such a sweet boy.' You thought fondly, reminiscing his younger years. 'And now. He's a young man now, about to graduate high school and be out there in the world... And I'm pretty sure that I'm still gonna be making him bento boxes.' You thought as you chuckled to yourself.

The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door

Baki sat on the roof of the school, the bento you gave him this morning was opened and was nearly empty, he was slowly eating the food you cooked for him, 10 sausages sliced to look like little squids, 10 rolled omelets, and 4 large rice balls. It was never enough to get him stuffed, but it was enough to get him satisfied. He smiled as he swallowed the last of his rice ball, reaching down for the last rolled omelet and soon after the last two sausages. He chewed it slowly, savoring the taste like it'd be his last meal. He placed it down gently, putting the lid on it, sliding his chopsticks back into its case closing it before he placed it on top on the bento box.

He clasped his hands in thanks before he leaned back on his hands and he let out a burp before he sighed happily, patting his stomach with a satisfied stare. "Whoo!! Man, that hit the spot... She always knows how much to feed me... No matter how old I am, she always somehow knew when my appetite grew... Is that what the other kids at school are always talking about... How their mothers always know without them saying anything?... Is that what they call 'A Mother's instinct?' " He questioned aloud to himself as he stared at the sky, watching the clouds slowly drift by.

"I wonder what she's doing right now?... Probably eating... Maybe still working... Talking on the phone with a customer... A co-worker... Hopefully, it's a lady and not another guy.... Ha, now I sound like those guys who are protective of their moms." He said with a chuckle, a small smile on his face. He lays there in silence a little longer, lying down on his back as he crosses his arms under his head. "I wonder... How would she feel if I called her 'Mom'?... I mean, I would be shocked if she called me 'son'... But she already calls me things like 'sweetie', 'dear' and 'love', so... Maybe she wouldn't mind?.... Who am I kidding, of course, she would mind... Would she though?" He questioned as he lay there.

He stayed there for a few more minutes before he sat up, his legs bent and his arms resting on them. He stared down at the bento box, a gentle look on his face as he did. "I wouldn't know, If I don't try, right?" He asked himself aloud.

The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door

You sighed tiredly as you placed the stack of paper down on the counter in the lounge area, you sighed as you leaned on it, your arm resting on the stack while your other hand rested on the table. "Man, I can't wait for my shift to be over, I'm so ready to go home and relax with a nice dinner." You said, you stood there a little longer before you began separating the papers alphabetical order. 'Hmm, I wonder if Baki would want to come over for dinner today, it's been a while since we had dinner together.' You thought as your hands worked on autopilot, your eyes keeping tabs on the letters while your brain wondered.

'I should ask him after school today if he wants to have dinner together, knowing him he'd say yes, little foodie.' You thought fondly, a small smile gracing your face as you thought about him stuffing his face. You loved seeing Baki happy, he had such a rough life, and you were proud to be another constant form of normalcy in his life aside from school and having a girlfriend. You shook your head, remembering the sight of a young Baki, hungry and tired after constant training and depression, he wasn't frail but he wasn't exactly a normal thickness for a healthy child either.

A sad look crossed your face as you thought about it. 'Child neglect... It's a high rise here in Japan... And it's always so sad to see... Some women and men just didn't need to be parents.' You thought, Baki's mother crossing your mind, her arrogant stare as she glared at you, a saddened Baki by her side as he stared up at you with those big sad eyes. You hated that woman, she didn't deserve to be a mother... She was a monster, a selfish bitch, chasing after a man who didn't even want her, taking her frustrations out on a child. Your jaw clenched at the thought of her

Over the years of taking care of Baki, you've come to love him as your own child, you wished he was yours. You loved having him around, he made you feel so complete. Hearing him laugh in your living room as he watched TV, like a normal child, hearing his footsteps as he walked around, getting ready for school or to hit the gym, hearing him coming in from gym or school, a proud look on his face as he told you about him breaking his limits or about his grade improving. You watched him grow from a young teen to a young man, it made you proud to be in his life.

You stood there quietly for a while, the sound of shuffling paper was the only sound as you placed them in order, you paused halfway through, and you looked up in thought for a moment before you went back to work. "I wonder what I should make for dinner." You said aloud.

The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door

Baki walked down the street, hand in pocket while the other held his bag, a thoughtful look on his face as he walked. 'I'm gonna do it... I'm gonna walk in, like normal, I'm gonna sit at the table, like normal, and then I'm just gonna say it... It's just a simple word... Nothing too extreme... I'll just sit there casually, and I'll just say. "So, what's for dinner, Mom?".... Damn this is hard... I don't wanna make things awkward between us... But I also don't wanna constantly guess and wonder forever... Damn, this is tough.' He thought as he looked up, his brows creased in worry.

He sighed as he paused, his chest expanding before he held it for a moment, exhaling and his shoulders relaxed. A determined gleam in his eyes as he put a pep in his step. "I'm gonna do it!!" He said aloud, his walking picking up speed as he walked home. He walked for a while, his fast pace never slowing as he walked, he felt energized, nervous, nauseous, excited, worried, motivated... He was buzzing with so many emotions. His determined glare softened to a gentle gleam when he saw your form from a distance.

You were walking at a simple pace, you looked so small, so tired, yet still strong and sturdy. 'That's a mom for you, she's tired, she's beaten, she's bruised, but she still laughs, she still smiles, she still gives time for her young, she still carries on... The strongest human on earth is Yujiro Hanma, but the hardest to break is a Mother's Love.' Baki thought as he watched you walk ahead. His steps picked up speed as he caught up to you, it didn't take long, and once close enough he tapped your shoulder.

You jumped a little, looking over your shoulder and you relaxed the questioning look on your face into a happy smile when you saw Baki. The loving gleam in your eyes shined brightly and he stared at them, soaking up the stare. "Oh, Baki!! There you are, I was just wondering what I should make for dinner tonight." You said. He stared down at you sweetly as he smiled walking towards your home, you followed, your steps side by side as you both walked together through the crowded streets. Baki's eyes gleamed brightly as he steeled his resolve. 'Now.... This is the best time to do this.' He thought as his hand in his pocket balled into a fist.

"How about grilled fish, miso soup, and egg rolls with some rice... Mom?" He said, his voice wavered nervously at the end. Your eyes widen and you snatch your head to look over at him in question. 'Did I hear him right?... Did he just call me "mom"?' You thought, the soft yet scared look on his face, the cold sweat his eyes locked ahead of him, it all answered your question and you smiled. You wrapped your arm around his making him look down at you in shock with a questioning look. The happy look on your face, your eyes gleamed with unshead tears as you looked up at him.

"That sounds like a good idea, Son." You said. He slowly smiled at you, the scared look in his eyes relaxed and melted into a happy gleam as he tightened his arm around yours slightly. "Great... I was actually craving that at school today." He said, you giggled. "Really now? Well, it's a good thing you told me then because I was gonna make some fried cabbage, rice, and omelet." You said through a chuckle. "What!? Again!? Come on, Mom, you gotta eat better than that." He said playfully. You chuckled. "I know, I know... But I'll eat better now, I promise." You said.

You both walked together down the street, arms locked, happy smiles on your faces as you both looked like a mother and son having a playful banter.

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 11

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues, canon typical violence* Fluff, sass, flirting, two very similar people finally on the same page. Vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: Booted back to the States after the DEA puts him on notice, Javi runs into an unexpected and familiar face at his cousin's wedding. Notes: We are finally explicit for sexy soulmate reasons!! ✨🎉🎆 We're almost at the end of this one, my dears! Most likely one more chapter and then the epilogue.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10

Being back on Laredo is almost surreal. People know him, both from the somewhat reckless younger years spend here, and the scandal of leaving his fiancé at the altar, to the notoriety of hunting Pablo Escobar down. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been there when the man had finally been shot down like the dog he was, he had been a part of it.

When he got the call, he had been in his second favorite place. The bar. Drinking and smoking, again, trying to not feel sorry for himself. Still on leave from the DEA, his hand slapped and his punishment was being left in limbo as he watched the news for anything Steve hadn’t told him.

“Javier.” His father’s voice finally cuts through his inner thoughts after the third time of having his name called. “You gotta get dressed, mijo.” The elder Peña insists. “Danny’s wedding is in an hour.”

Javi sighs as he blinks away the memories and looks over at the concerned frown on the elder Peña’s face. “Sure pop.” He doesn’t know why it really matters considering he’s not going to be wearing a suit. The event is very Texas, cowboy boots and jeans required, with the excepting of the happy couple.

“You should shave.” His father comments, more an instruction than a suggestion, as he moves through the living room and collects both his and his son’s forgotten coffee cups. “Three day stubble doesn’t look good on anybody. Your Ma told me that once.”

Javi sighs and swipes his hand over his jaw. He should shave, trim his mustache. “Yeah.” He agrees. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

“We have time.” Chucho chuckles. “I gotta look good too, you know. That takes longer.”

Javi snorts and slaps his father’s shoulder as he walks by. “Nah.” He teases. “You have natural beauty, pop.”

“Never hurts to put in a little effort, mijo.” Chucho reminds him, watching his son stride down the hall on long legs. Javi’s been adrift since he got sent home. He won’t talk about what happened and he doesn’t socialize with any of his old friends despite their best efforts. He needs to get out of the damn house, and his father is not above using his cousin’s wedding as a good excuse.

In the bathroom, Javi sighs as he stares a that mirror. The dark circles under his eyes have gone away, but there is a haunted look in them. Maybe since the day he put you on a plane to the States. That’s what Steve kept bugging him about since you left, telling him that he was an idiot for letting you go without working things out.

His cousin’s wedding is as much distraction as it is anything else. He spends his days on the ranch and not much of anywhere else, mostly to avoid the questions.

He turns away from the mirror and reaches into the bathtub and turns on the water. He might as well shower and get ready. His dad won’t leave him alone until he goes to the wedding and drinks at least two beers at the reception.

Besides, Danny had been insistent about wanting Javi to come. His older cousin had been a big influence on him and he had wanted to share this day with the man he privately called his hero. Not that he would ever say that to Javi’s face.

Stripping down, he steps into the shower and closes the curtain, groaning quietly at the heat from the water. He has spiraled. Closing his eyes, he leans against the wall.

When you had gone missing, he had gone to Don Berna and Judy Moncalo for anything they could give him. Willing to skirt the line of morality and legality for you had ended up biting him in the ass. He had gotten in too deep, trapped by that helping hand until they had turned on him. The bad thing is, as much as he regrets leaving Colombia in disgrace, he would do it again for you.

Murphy tried to help, in between being a pain in the ass. But the way everything ended up was just fucking ridiculous enough that there was no real way for him to help. So now he gets through each day at a time. Wondering if he’s ever going to figure out what the fuck comes next.

Cleaning up quickly, he steps out of the shower into the steaming bathroom and wipes the mirror clear. Staring at his reflection again. Licking his lips as he wonders what you are doing right now.

******

"Yes I promise to make it abundantly clear that I'm not your girlfriend." You roll your eyes in the hotel room's bathroom mirror as you carefully apply your lip liner. Make up isn't exactly a natural skill for you, but you've learned. "Nor will I cockblock you if you meet a cute girl. But if you bring somebody back to the hotel, I expect your ass to get a new room. I will not be locked out so you can get laid." He had begged you to come when the invitation came through. He'd been invited to the wedding of his best friend from his unit and he'd promised to pay every single dollar of the trip if you came as his plus one. As much as your brother wanted to be there to celebrate with his friend, he hated doing social things without a safety net.

"You're gonna love Danny." He promises, leaning against the door and grinning at you in the reflection of the mirror. He's wearing his white undershirt and his white dress trousers. "He's going to get drunk and call out 'Doc! Doc! I need an IV!'"

"And you will be nice to him because it is his wedding day," you remind him. After lip liner is lipstick, and you inspect yourself in the mirror. In the last few years you've lost weight and kept it off with a strict diet, and while you're not exactly thin you're definitely closer than you used to be. It's easier to be satisfied with your appearance, at least. The babydoll dress that you picked out for today looks cute with a pair of cowgirl boots and you've even been careful doing your hair.

It's just being in Texas that has you feeling on edge. Being so close to Javier's hometown.

“I’ve promised to make sure he’s sober enough to have a wedding night.” He snorts, shooting you a grin. “Does that count?”

"Yes, it is." Smoothing one hand down your dress, you do your best to mask your anxiety by shooing past your brother and heading out to grab your wrap and the happy couple's gift from your suitcase. "Are you ready?"

“Let me put on my blouse.” He huffs, moving over to where it is hanging up to keep it clean.

"I take the least amount of time to get ready of anyone in our family, I swear." It may or may not be true, but right now you feel like you sped through getting ready out of pure anxiety. Ever since you touched down on Texas soil this morning, you've been jittery.

“What’s got you all out of whack?” He frowns slightly as he pulls the blouse on and moves to the mirror to adjust.

"I'm fine," you huff, flopping down on the bed next to where you were just standing and dodging his skeptical eyebrow raise. "I'm fine, Michael."

“And that definitely means you are not fine.” He turns from the mirror and walks over to you, crouching down and taking your hands. He’s become a little bit of a worrier since you’ve come back from Colombia. “Talk to me, sis.”

"It's just...weird." Both of your brothers have doted on you since you came home, taking opposite strategies in helping you resettle yourself into a new life. Almost everything has changed for you in the last few years, but they have been there for everything. And since they've been there with you, they know everything, too. "It's...he's from here. I guess it's more awkward for me than I expected."

“Oh shit.” His face falls, feeling horrible about basically bribing you to coming with him. “I didn’t- we don’t have to go.” He promises you. “I can just go to the wedding by myself and come back and we can rent movies and eat pizza?”

"I said it's awkward, not that I'm going to abandon you to be a socially awkward wallflower." Even though you huff and roll your eyes at him, you reach out to give your brother a swift, tight hug. "I can manage. But you're taking me to the most absurdly Texas bar ever before we leave, so I can line dance and ride a mechanical bull. Then we'll go home and I'll be mopey for a week or two trying not to think about my soulmate. Deal?'

You’ve been hesitant to give anyone a lot of details about your soulmate, and that concerns Michael. You had always had an attitude about it, but he had assumed it was fear that your soulmate wouldn’t live up to your expectations. That somehow the universe would get it wrong and you wouldn’t have what mom and dad had. But when you had come home from Colombia, you had just said you had met him and parted ways. Refusing to tell him more than his first name, Javier. That secrecy had been even more worrisome, since you never normally kept secrets. “Okay.” He agrees, sending you a reassuring grin. “I think we can do that. But try not to mop on the bull, that could be bad.”

"No moping on the bull." The half-smile you offer your brother in thanks is the best you can do right now, but you know he understands. Or at least that he's doing his best to be supportive. Your brothers may have razzed you when you were kids but as adults you've gotten closer than closer. "I promise."

“Oh shit.” Turning back, Michael grabs a small pack off the bed, his medical bag. “Almost forgot the IV’s.” He huffs as he grins at you and holds out his arm for you to take. “Can’t be the ‘Doc’ if I can’t cure the hangover.”

"Dishonorable discharge if you forget. Obviously." You tease, and push yourself off the bed with determination. The Marine unit that your brother serves with means the world to him — they're his other family — and you won't disappoint him today by chickening out. You're just going to do your damnedest not to think about Javier Peña today.

******

Sitting with family, he’s surrounded by people. People who thankfully won’t ask him questions about his time in Colombia or his soulmate status. That one would be particularly bittersweet as he watches Danny exchange vows with his own soulmate.

The involved Catholic ceremony is anything but brief, leaving kids squirming and some adults stifling yawns, but all attention snaps to the couple for their vows and that eagerly anticipated first kiss of marriage. It stings for those of you without soulmates but no one would begrudge this beautiful couple their happiness. Not when it shines so brightly.

Javi ducks his head down, sighing softly but he claps with everyone else. Standing when the couple starts back up the aisle along with his pop. He didn’t really listen to the ceremony, lost in his own thoughts and thinking about the worn out letter in his wallet.

"Come on, mijo." Chucho shuffles down the pew to wave Javier out into the aisle as the church empties out. He's not looking to be late to the reception and miss out on getting a prime seat where he can watch all the action.

“Sure thing.” He sees someone who has been wanting to hear ‘war stories’ headed his way, so he is hot on his dad’s heels. “Fucking Budweiser is calling my name.”

"And you're gonna bring your old man one, too." The elder Peña chuckles, clapping his son on the back as they walk together.

Javi chuckles and nods. “Of course I will.” He snorts. “You’ll be too busy socializing.”

"Course I will." That makes his father laugh, and Chucho ropes his arm around his son's shoulder as they walk along to the truck, chuckling all the while. "You got you mother's quiet disposition, kiddo. I don't know what to tell you."

“Mom was better a reading people.” He points out, thinking about the woman most would have considered quiet. She was, until she had something to say, then she let you know it. “Just don’t want to talk about the same shit the entire time. This is about Danny today.”

"Could always try to talk to some new people," Chucho suggests when they get out to the truck. He climbs behind the wheel and Javi gets in beside him. "Danny's unit are all coming, and his girl— wife's work friends. You don't know any of them yet. Might be nice?"

“They are all kids.” Javi scoffs quietly. “I remember when Danny was running around taking his diaper off. Now he’s married.” He shakes his head. “I woke up old, pop.”

"Yeah, I know." He laughs again. "But at leas you're honest about it."

“Thanks, pop.” He rolls his eyes and reaches into his pocket for a piece of nicotine gum. He’s been trying to stop, but it’s been rough. “That makes you really old.”

"Yeah, I know." There is more laughter in the truck shared by the two men as Chucho pulls out onto the road again, and the older man just shrugs one shoulder as he shifts gears. They head to the outside of town to Danny's bride's family ranch with music playing and decent – if introspective – moods between them. Both Peñas find themselves think about their soulmates in the aftermath of the ceremony, though neither will push the subject.

“Do you ever regret finding mom?” Javi asks, looking out the window at the rolling grass and weathered fences. “I mean, if you had never known about her, it wouldn’t have hurt so much when she died.” Both men had mourned the loss of her heavily.

“Never.” His father’s answer comes immediately. There is not a single ounce of hesitation in his body. “But…I was lucky enough to love her and cherish her for almost fifty years.”

“Yeah.” His parents had been very early in their discovery of matching scars. “Do you ever think the universe gets it wrong?” He asks after another moment. “Soulmates, I mean.”

Chucho knows what his son is asking, but still he clenches his jaw and tuts, glancing over at Javier as he drives. “I think sometimes the right person can come along at the wrong time.” He says finally. “But we don’t always get a second chance, and that is the unfair part.”

Javi sighs softly, swiping is hand over his face and nodding. “Yeah.” He had told Chucho he had met his soulmate after coming back, but that you had left Colombia a few years before and there had been no contact. He had been disappointed in Javi but hadn’t said much. “Life’s not fair at all sometimes.”

“No.” Chucho agrees, and he shakes his head again as he pulls the truck into the field along with the other party guests. “It isn’t. But going through your life never taking another chance doesn’t help, either.”

“I don’t think she would want that.” He admits softly. “I think I’m more of a reminder about a horrible time in her life.” He had read your article, it was amazing and thought provoking, but he had read the unhappiness between the likes. The relief that it was over. He wouldn’t take you back to that place. Especially since it seems like you’ve fallen off the face of the earth since winning your Pulitzer.

“I’m not saying you have to take a chance on her, Mijo. Not if you don’t want to.” With the truck’s engine cut, Chucho huffs a sigh and turns to look at his son. “But you need somebody. Somebody to spend your time with and grow old with.” When Javi opens his mouth to object, Chucho holds up a finger. “And I don’t count, Javito. I’m gonna be gone soon enough and it’ll be you and the dog. That’s not enough.”

He’s right, even if Javi doesn’t like it. “You can grumble at me on the way home when you’re drunk.” Javi jokes and opens the door, wanting to shelve the conversation for now. “Let’s go celebrate the happy couple.”

The reception is very homegrown, with coolers of beer and dispensers of sangria on either end of a buffet of favorite foods and plenty of space to dance and drink and chat. It’s homey and welcoming, And the DJ is playing good music for everyone as they trickle in.

Javi lingers with his dad. Helping him choose a seat and putting on his sociable smile. He can be charming and engaging when he wants to be and he decides to grin and bear the inevitable questions and remarks about his work and his own botched wedding.

For the most part the other guests are family or close friends. They know the stories already or know that making Javi rehash his history is cruel. But there are always people who are curious and today that includes the first young woman to corner him at the drinks table.

Javi picks up two beers, turning and smiling at the younger woman who is obviously waiting for something. “The punch is good.” He offers, keeping that his cousin always makes the sangria his tía loves.

“Why don’t you grab me some?” The girl can’t be more than twenty-one, batting her eyelashes and sticking her chest out without an ounce of subtlety.

He wants to sigh, but he nods, moving over to the punch bowl and pouring her out a smaller cup of the fruity, spiced wine. “Here you go.” He offers.

“You’re not going to have one with me?” She pouts.

Javi moves down the table and bends down to pick up two beer bottles out of one of the coolers. “Beer.” He tells her.

“Gross.” Is the only comment he gets out of that and she’s gone again without further comment. Apparently off to find some people more to her taste.

He snorts to himself as he twists off the caps to the beers, thankful that his apparent bad taste in drinks had saved him from an awkward conversation. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He hums to himself as he tilts one bottle back for a sip before taking his dad his beer.

“She was cute.” Chucho offers, accepting the beer from his son, but chuckles when Javier looks dubious. “Too young. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He drops down into the seat next to his dad and looks around, drinking the beer and smiling when someone glances over at him. “Good turn out.”

“Danny’s a good kid.” The commendation from Chucho is as warm and proud as if he had raised the boy himself.

“Can’t believe he’s grown.” Javi admits, glancing over at where Danny and some sailor are laughing and hugging. “And a Marine.”

"Give it a second before you go and say hi." Chucho grunts under his breath and motions for Javier to look to the right of where Danny and his service friends are laughing together. He's fairly certain that Javier won't want to spoil the day with running into Lorraine and the woman that tried to trap his son into marriage is standing nearby the group of men with another woman.

******

“So how you know everyone here?” The slim blonde gives you a friendly, wide smile and gestures around the hall. “I don’t guess I’ve seen you around town before.” Curiosity has always motivated Lorraine, and it’s rare that she has someone new to meet. Even if she’s avoiding the other side of the room right now, not quite brave enough to approach Javi.

"You wouldn't have." You clutch the glass of sangria that your brother had gotten for you and hold onto the little glass like an anchor. "It's my first time in Texas at all. I came with my brother." You motion to where Michael and his friends are chatting a few feet away. "He serves with the groom."

“Oh really?” She follows your finger and hums. “His uniform is different?” She gives a small laugh and shrugs. “I don’t know much about the military, but I think that’s the Navy?”

"It is." Small talk isn't necessarily your forte so you're glad to actually have something to focus on. Being proud of your brothers is at the top of the list. "He's green side." When she has no reaction to that term at all, you explain further. "He's the medical officer with their Marine unit."

“How interesting!” Her brows shoot up and she looks over at the group of men with a hum. “My husband, Randy, is a lawyer, I hear complaints about judges and bailiffs and court reporters.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head slightly. “So you are keeping an eye on your brother tonight?” She’s already discreetly looked down at your left hand and didn’t spy any kind of ring, leading her to believe that you aren’t married. Randy has a brother that might find you attractive.

"He didn't want to come alone and I like to travel," you explain, laughing a little out of pure discomfort. Not that this woman is rude or anything, she's just a stranger. "Are you family? If you don't mind my asking, I mean. It seems like a tight knit community around here."

“Almost.” Her laugh is both slightly brittle and self-deprecating. “I was engaged to one of Danny’s cousins a million years ago.” She waves it away as if it’s not something that would prompt more questions. “But I’ve known Danny his entire life.”

"Family by association, then. That's really nice." It's sweet, and it reinforces your idea of the community around here being very close.

“Maybe.” She shrugs slightly. “I didn’t expect my ex to be here, but I guess we will have to have that awkward meeting at some point tonight.” She snorts. “Hopefully I’ll be a few glasses of sangria in by then.”

"Oh?" That sounds a bit like a plot point in a book to you, but your mind always has worked like a writer's more than anything else. Even when you don't write anymore.

“Yeah.” She glances around the room and spots Javi handing his father a beer before she looks back at you. “I thought he would still be in the jungle, honestly. But I guess that’s over now.”

"That sounds dramatic." Jungle is not exactly a place you want to be thinking about ever, but the conversational door is open and you can't just walk away from it, so you bite your tongue on anything but letting this woman talk.

“Javier can be dramatic.” She hums in agreement. “But I guess you have to be when you were trying to catch Pablo Escobar.”

Javier.

Your throat tightens and your legs turn to lead, heart pounding out of your chest so that your blood is screaming in your ears the second you realize who you have been aimlessly chatting with.

Javier's ex-fiancée Lorraine. The woman who drew his tattoos onto her skin to trap him into marrying her. The woman who made him so fearful of a soulmate connection.

Arguably? The woman who ruined your chance at a meaningful relationship with your own soulmate by abusing him out of his trust.

"I suppose it's easy to be dramatic when the people around you lie to you at every turn." You intone, still smiling and appearing as bubbly as ever, as if you were accusing Escobar of lying and not her.

She frowns for a moment, tilting her head as she thinks about your statement and tries to ascertain if you are insinuating something about her. “That’s an interesting way to look at it.” She agrees when your smile seems innocent. “I just want him to happy.” She tuts. “He’s been single since we broke up and I heard that he has been suspended by the DEA.” She drops her voice and leans closer, whispering that last part to not let her voice carry far. God forbid someone accuse her of gossiping.

"It might surprise someone how little a person's single status has to do with their exes." Trying not to frown or cross your arms, you clutch your cup a little harder. "People can be perfectly happy without being married. And there is often so much more than meets the eye behind government decisions." Without thinking, your instinct has been to jump to Javier's defense even though your mouth has run dry at the idea of him being in the same room after literal years apart. She said she saw him. He's here.

“Of course.” She smiles, a little uncomfortable with your sudden vehemence and she glances past you. “Oh darn.” She huffs. “My kids need my help.” She shoots you an apologetic glance and skitters by you to go help a little girl around seven years old with her plate at the buffet.

"Shit." Hissing under your breath, you manage to set your cup down on the table next to you and try to get yourself under control again. Maybe you'll just leave. Michael is fine, right? He's perfectly fine with his friends. You can just go back to the hotel and hide. Yep. Hide. Like a coward. That's exactly what you're going to do...

******

It was supposed to just a quick glance. A survey just to see where Lorraine was while he decides if he is going to speak to her here or not. He’s leaning towards not, just because he knows it will make tongues wag. His eyes flicker over in the direction his dad had indicated and he freezes, hand gripping the bottle tight in his fist when he sees you.

Not just you, a smiling version of yourself. You’ve lost weight, an observation that immediately makes him frown and wonder if you have been taking care of yourself. “Fuck.” He hisses, the ache that had been pushed down until it had become dull flaring to life in his chest.

“What?” Chucho asks, glancing back at Lorraine and not understand why his son would curse. “Just avoid her.” He councils, talking about Javi’s ex-fiancée.

That shakes Javi out of his stupor and he picks up the bottle and tosses back the rest of his beer. Pausing only to shake someone’s hand when they reach out before he stands up. “Not this time, pop.” He claps his father on the shoulder and moves through the crowd towards you.

In the second after you decide yep, time to run away back to the hotel room, you abandon your sangria cup and turn around to get Michael's attention but come face to face with an entirely different man. "Javier..."

His smile is lopsided, a little shy, and he scrubs his hands on the side of his jeans as he stares at you. The haunted look in your eyes that was there when he put you on that plane is gone, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost. “Small world.” He jokes, eyes roaming your face, apparently starved for the sight of you.

"Seems like it." It's a good thing you didn't pick up your drink because now your hands are shaking. It feels like all of you is shaking, in fact, and all you want to do is rush to his arms and hug him. He's clean shaven with his mustache trimmed neatly, dressed in possibly the most casual outfit you've ever seen – used to seeing him in suits around the apartment back in Bogotá. "H—how—um...how are you?"

He shrugs, looking around the room and then back at you. “Could be worse.” He admits before he frowns. “How about you?” He asks softly. “You look- good, real good.” His normal charm and smooth words with women falters and his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth. The only comfort is that you seem just as startled by his presence as he is with you.

"I've lost some weight." You shrug dismissively. The fact is, you're far more conventionally attractive this way but still self-conscious about your appearance. At least it's easier to get clothes that fit properly. "It's uh...it's good to see you." So fucking good. You had no idea how relieved you would feel until he was right in front of you again.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, unsure how in the world you ended up at the same wedding reception small town Texas as him. “I mean- it’s good to see you to, but how?”

"Danny." Taking a deep breath, you wish you had pockets to shove your hands into. "Apparently my brother serves with your cousin." You hadn't put it together before, because despite living in the same town, Javier and Danny have different last names. "So...the universe is having fun with us, I guess."

He chuckles quietly and shuffles closer to you. “Congratulations, by the way.” He murmurs. “Your article was amazing. You really deserved that Pulitzer and every other award you won.”

"It felt dirty." He is really the only person you can admit this to. He's closer to the thing than anyone else in the world. "It's what he wanted — for interviewing him to be worth that prize. But I couldn't not publish the story." Because you knew it would help him. To have all of that written down as clear as day. A first hand account of Escobar's cruelty. It helped fuel the US government's fire to get the mangey bastard. Which is bittersweet in its own right. "I watched the footage. It's...I'm sorry that..." You sigh softly. "You deserved to be there and it's shitty that you weren't. I'm sorry."

“My fault.” He can admit that, even as he shrugs away the sting of bitterness that needles through him every time. “I don’t regret it. I would do it again.”

"Whatever you did, you still deserved to be the one to shoot the bastard." A slight, soft sigh escapes. One of resignation if nothing else. "For both of us."

He hums in agreement, chewing on his gum and wishing he had a cigarette. “You didn’t read the interview Judy Moncalo gave?” He asks curiously, struck by the ‘whatever you did’ comment. Did you really not know?

"No." You admit quietly. "It, um...it made me too mad to read about you being sent home. So I didn't." What a horrible lie. It absolutely tore you up to read his name anywhere because you missed him so much, but you can't say that to his face.

He tics his brow up in surprise. He had the completely opposite reaction. It had taken everything in him to not constantly look you up. To keep tabs on you. He sighs and looks away again. “When you were….kidnapped, I went to Judy Moncalo and Don Berna.” He admits, shuffling slightly before he looks back at you. “I promised them a favor in the future if they could tell me where Escobar was holding you.”

"Oh god..." The air rushes out of you all at once and your eyes sting, but instead of drawing away from him you instantly give in to your first instinct when you saw him and end up throwing your arms around his shoulders to squeeze him tightly against you. "I'm so sorry," you murmur quietly, letting it all sink in and settle in your bones. He did it for you. To save you. "I can't—I—I'm so sorry and I'm so grateful."

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against him and he buries his face into your shoulder and neck, inhaling your scent. “Don’t apologize.” He grunts. “I would do it again.” He repeats. “In a heartbeat.”

"This is..." Sniffling back the tears that will stain his shirt and ruin your makeup, you still hold on to him like a lifeline for a few more seconds. "This is not at all what I thought this weekend was going to be like."

He chuckles, fully aware of that and feeling the same. “I understand.” He murmurs, pulling back when you do and looking into your eyes again. “You look like you need another drink.”

"I haven't even had the first one," you admit, motioning vaguely behind you at the cup you abandoned. "I got distracted meeting your awful ex-fiancée."

This time he winces. “I saw that.” He admits, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Guess that means that she wasn’t her normal charming self?”

“You dodged a bullet.” That is your honest assessment and you’re not afraid to give it.

That pulls a smirk out of him, glancing around to where Lorraine was seated with her kids. “I’d like to think so.” He admits. “Thought about kids with her at one point, now I couldn’t imagine.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” You tell him honestly, before thinking better of yourself and tacking on: “If only for your sake.”

Licking his lips, he wonders why that added comments irritates him. Why he isn’t satisfied with it. He reminds himself that you had left Colombia and never reached back out again. You are only here because of a coincidence. “Yeah.” He nods, looking back towards the coolers and wanting another beer. “So where are you writing now?”

“I’m not.” A fact which nags and frustrates you, but you pick up your cup and nod toward the drink table. This is not a conversation to be navigated without some kind of assistance. In this case, that’s alcohol. “I got out of that game after the award.”

No wonder he hasn’t been able to find your articles. “Really? Can I ask why? You are an amazing journalist.”

The compliment warms something hollow in your chest, but you still shrug one shoulder as you start to walk together. “I don’t know what I expected, really. I should have known Escobar’s men would retaliate after what I wrote. Coming after me? I get that. It was coming after my mother that made me stop. No matter what, it’s not worth putting my family into that kind of danger.”

“What?” He turns and grabs your elbow, making you face him again. “You- what happened?” Anger and guilt swirls in his stomach. You were in danger and he didn’t even know.

“Everybody’s okay.” You sure him, seeing a flash of panic in the depths of his eyes. “I’m fine. My mom is fine. The guys they sent got busted. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” He shakes his head and growls in frustration. He should have had someone watching over you. He hadn’t told the DEA about your soulmate connection between the two of you because he hadn’t wanted to cause any more undue stress. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Startled slightly by the vehemence of the question, you look away and have to take a steadying breath. “I…didn’t think you would want to hear from me.”

“Anytime you need anything, you can call me.” He softens, hating the way you tense up slightly under his hand. “I didn’t reach out to you because of the same thing.” He confesses.

“We didn’t exactly promise to keep in touch.” Which is as much your fault as his. Maybe more. You had been so determined to leave clearly and let him get on with his life.

“No, we didn’t.” He lets go of your arm and shrugs. “I— I should have called though. I was afraid that you would just remember the kidnapping .”

“There hasn’t been a single day of my life that I haven’t thought about it,” you murmur, eyes downcast and already missing the warmth of his small, reassuring touch. “But you saved my life.”

“I’m sorry it took so long.” He’s apologized many times, but he needs to again.

“Me too.” Although you’re not quite sure what to do with the fact that he’s here in front of you know. It feels like a joke being played on you by the universe at large — knowing how you still feel about him but having given that up years ago.

He turns and starts to guide you back towards the drink table. His hand comes around you and rests on your lower back.

It’s a searing sting and the most wonderful ache in the world all at the same time, reminding you of movie nights on his couch and navigating each other in the kitchen. The tantalizing promise of things that never came to be and now never would. At least he doesn’t hate you. That’s more than you could have asked for, as far as you’re concerned.

Javi barely resists the urge to caress your skin over the back of your dress. Biting his lip as he guides you and he wonders if he’s ever told you how pretty you are.

“Beer?” There’s no whiskey, otherwise you would have poured that for him instinctively. But it’s all you can do right now not to think about the heat of his hand ghosting over your back.

“Yeah.” He shoots you a grin. “We promised that we wouldn’t go overboard and stuck with beer for the reception.” He informs you. “Although I know Danny has a bottle of whiskey outside.”

“We?” The corner of your mouth ticks up in amusement. “Are you a wedding planner now?”

He snorts. “Nah. But I paid for the alcohol as a wedding present.”

“Hell of a lot nicer than my brother’s idea.” You snort and hand him a bottle. “Taking him out of buying a sexy music cassette was not a conversation I ever expected to have.”

“Oh fuck.” Javi chuckles. “Nothing wrong with making love to music, but that is personal preference, not a gift.”

“Not at all.” Laughing with him is soothing. Calming. And you’ll take this moment for whatever it is worth. “Which is why I banned him from buying the gift and got them some kitchen stuff instead. Michael said they like to cook together.”

“That’s a better idea. Danny likes to cook. He makes his mom’s recipes.” He smiles. “I remember someone else likes to cook too. Miss that.”

“It’s…actually what I do now.” Don’t read into it. Don’t read into it. He’s just being nice. “I got a job on the line at my dad’s old restaurant.”

“Really?” He looks impressed because he is impressed. Happy that you have found what makes you happy. “How do you like it?” He asks. “I know if you opened up a restaurant here you would make a killing.”

“It keeps me busy. And it makes me feel closer to my dad, so that’s always a bonus.” The comment about being here, though, feels like so much warmth coursing through your heart even though you’re sure he didn’t mean it to be. “Not too many Italian places in southern Texas?”

“Not like yours.” He huffs, rolling his eyes slightly. “You have a gift.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to put him off. To deny the compliment. To dismiss it. But a split-second hesitation has the truth pouring out of you instead. “Thank you I— I loved cooking for you.”

He almost asks you to cook for him and his dad, but that would be rude – even for him. Instead he twists the cap off the beer you had handed him. “How long are you in town for?”

“We only planned on the weekend.” Suddenly you wish it was more. Running into Javier had been such a fear and now all you want to do is bask in it. “We got in this morning and we’re flying back Monday morning.”

He takes a sip of the beer and nods. “Time to recover from a hangover and get bored.” He jokes.

“Pretty much.” That had been the logic in the planning anyway. “I made my brother promise to hunt down the most gimmicky bar possible with me.”

“José’s.” Javi answers immediately and without any irony. “It’s this little country bar with a bull that services Budweiser and tequila shots.”

“It has a bull?” You perk up at that — it’s all you wanted out of this stupid little excursion and you don’t feel like hiding it. “Do they do line dancing too?”

He chuckles, “It wouldn’t be a country bar if it didn’t.” He promises. “It’s lively on Saturday nights and Sunday nights.”

“You should come.” The offer comes tumbling out of your mouth fore you can stop it, but you won’t take it back. Not when seeing him again feels relieving instead of awkward like you had been dreading.

He is very surprised that you offered, lifting a brow for a moment and searching your face to see if you are just being nice or if you mean it. “Sounds like a plan.”

"We never really had much time for fun in Colombia." You sip your sangria, humming softly at the sweet, tangy, alcoholic brew. Somebody has put some real thought into this recipe. "There was work to do."

“Plus, you never really seemed like you wanted be out in a social setting with me.” He hadn’t commented on it at the time, just taken it as further proof you hated him being your soulmate.

"I didn't figure you wanted to be out in a social situation with me." Rehashing those months together might not be pleasant, but apparently you're in a particularly honest mood this afternoon.

“When the clubs were filled with sicarios and informants who would snitch to narcos?” He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t. But under other circumstances? I wouldn’t mind it at all.”

"It's different now." For better or for worse, your circumstances in life have changed drastically. Both of you.

“Yes it is.” You’ve managed to finish your sangria, so Javi puts his beer down and refills your cup before handing it back to you. “We both are different now too.”

"Maybe not too different," you admit with a laugh, willing yourself to ignore the way your fingers burn when they brush his. "I'm still a stubborn pain in the ass sometimes."

He snorts, glad that hasn’t changed. “I almost didn’t recognize you.” He huffs, slightly disappointed by your weight loss, but that’s not any of his business. You just need to be happy with yourself.

"I know. I look different." Better, but different. But him? He looks as gorgeous as the day he brought you to the airport, which is making your stomach flip. "You look the same. Which isn't a bad thing at all."

He scoffs at that and shrugs. “You lie, but thank you.” He hums. “Have you eaten yet?”

"Why would I lie about that?" Even though you ask the question, you still shake your head. Before being snagged in conversation by Lorraine and then spotted by Javier, you had just been following your brother around like a tail.

“Come on.” He urges you towards the table that is groaning and straining under the weight of all the dishes. “You should try some of this food, all family recipes.”

"If I ever turn down family recipes, take me to a doctor because I am very unwell." The change of topic and focus is welcome, and you walk side by side with him in a moment of comfortable silence.

Javi can see the eyes on the pair of you, some of them assessing and some just curious. He catches his dad’s raised brow but he just points out the dishes to avoid discreetly.

"I'll have to apologize to my brother for ditching him later." You joke, passing over something Javier describes as Texas lasagna that just makes you long for your own homemade dish. "But he'll be fine."

“Do you want to go back over there with him?” He asks, suddenly unsure if you want to spend this wedding reception chatting with him. Maybe you had hoped to meet someone.

Glancing back, you can see over Javier's shoulder that your brother has not only one but two very attractive people captive to a story he's telling — one of them being another member of his unit that you know he has a crush on and the other being a beautiful woman close to his same age. "Nah." You decide, shaking your head and looking back at Javier. "He's fine. Unless..." A startling thought occurs and makes your stomach drop. "You'd rather I leave you alone?"

“No.” He’s quick to shake his head, frowning at the thought. “Not at all.” He promises. “I just didn’t want you to think you had to talk to me if you would rather mingle.” It feels like you are both going around in circles and he huffs at himself in amusement.

"No." Your answer is almost as quick as his, and your cheeks burn with a flutter of something like tension in your chest. Just because it's one-sided doesn't mean the flush of attraction isn't still there. "No, I mean—I'm good. I'd rather be here."

He flashes you a quick grin, lighting up his face and showcasing some of that Peña charm. “Sounds good, sweetheart.”

******

It's easy to lose track of time when you're actually enjoying yourself. Sitting and eating a meal with Javier again feels like coming home in the most sentimental of ways. It's comfortable and has your chest tightening with every laugh. You've found yourselves at a table in a corner away from the rest of the party where you can just sit and talk, and it's such a fucking relief. So much so that neither of you notice when your table is approached halfway through the reception.

Javi sees the edge of a floral dress come into view, pink shoes that match the large flowered peeking out from underneath. He knows who it has to be, she hasn’t changed that signature scent Estee Lauter perfume since they had been together. “Lorraine.” He acknowledges her, not even taking his eyes off of you.

"Javier." Her smile is pinched, looking down at the pair at the table with as much insatiable curiosity as judgement.

He wonders why she is here, but he glances up at the woman. Technically, she’s still beautiful, but he doesn’t see that. He sees the lies and manipulation she had tried to use to get her way. “What a pleasant surprise.” He lies, smiling at her.

"We would never have missed Danny's big day." She bristles at the implication that she ever would, in fact, but puts on a pleasant false smile instead. "I just came to say hello and see how my new friend was doing."

Her pointed gaze is directed entirely at you and you sit back in your chair with pure amusement. She came to be nosy, but that's fine. "I'm enjoying myself immensely," you tell her with a broad grin.

She stiffens slightly and looks between you and Javier, trying to decide if the two of you know each other. “He can be such a flirt.” She agrees. “Weddings are fun places to meet new people.”

“Yes.” You agree with a pleasant, if intentionally vacant, smile. “It was very good to meet you, Lorraine.”

Javi smiles slightly, seeing the confusion on her face, and he wonders if she had told you her name. “You know me, I’m sociable.” He lies, chuckling when you snort.

“That’s us.” You smother more chuckles with sip of sangria. “Always so sociable.”

Lorraine narrows her eyes slightly, lips pinched together and Javi wonders why she’s so irritated. “How’s Randy, Lorraine?” He asks mildly. “The kids? You’ve got two now, right?”

“We’re all wonderful.” She claims, with the right assurance of someone who is absolutely lying. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

He shrugs casually and picks up your now empty glass. “Trained to retain even the most useless information.” He quips before looking over at you again. “Need a refill?”

“Please? I may have to beg your tía’s sangria recipe off of you. It’s amazing.” There is so much familiarity, so much comfort, in the way you interact. It very obviously can’t be the first time you’ve met, which only makes Lorraine’s pinched frown deepen.

“Don’t count on getting the recipe.” Lorraine tuts, sending you a sympathetic look. “It’s a family recipe and she won’t get it out to just anyone.” Javier had been about to walk away, but her comment made him turn back. Only taking a second before he decides to open his mouth. “I’m sure she would count my soulmate as family.” He declares firmly.

The way the air is sucked out of the conversation is instant and smothering. A pin could drop and the sound would reverberate between them until the end of time. Lorraine's jaw unhinges in shock at the same instant that you have to force all the determination in your entire body into not reacting.

He said it. He said it out loud. He acknowledged it to his ex-fiancée. Instead of a stomach that flips with nerves or anxiety, you positively beam with pride.

"Your—?" Lorraine sputters, when she can finally breathe again.

“Soulmate.” He repeats with a nod, reaching out and placing his hand on your shoulder. He knows that he shouldn’t have revealed this so casually, he hasn’t even told his father, but it seemed fitting to acknowledge his connection to you to the woman who had tried so hard to convince him that she was his soulmate. “We discovered the connection in Colombia.”

A smirk slowly crawls across your face, tucking itself in the corner of your mouth. "In the jungle."

Javi watches a myriad of emotions play out over Lorraine’s face, the prominent one being utter disbelief, but he just hums. “I guess I should thank you.” He makes it sound like he had only put two and two together right now, even though it has been a thought in his head since meeting you. “If you hadn’t lied to me and tried to haul me to the altar, I would have never accepted the job in the DEA and gone to Colombia.” His hand squeezes your shoulder gently. “And I don’t know if now wouldn’t have been our first meeting instead of then.”

Your eyes close briefly against the thought — mostly because you're certain that you wouldn't have survived Colombia if not for Javier — and you reach to place your hand over his on your shoulder. You give it a firm, affectionate squeeze and when you open your eyes again you're looking up at him with such fierce fondness that it crashes over you like a wave. "Forget the drink," you decide, blocking out everything around you including Lorraine. "Dance with me."

His response is immediate, setting down the cup and turning his palm to hold yours. “Absolutely, sweetheart.” He murmurs, not using the endearment for Lorraine’s sake, but for the way you are gazing at him. Like you are his sweetheart, like he deserves that affection.

The dust left in the wake of your exit from the table might have choked her but you wouldn't care. The only thing you care about is the song that is changing over to something slow and sweet as you walk out to the dance floor together. Hand-in-hand as though all the fights and all the frustrations didn't matter at all.

Javi feels like there’s been some unspoken turning point. Facing you once you reach the dance floor, he shoots you a grin and pulls you against him. Fitting you along his lean body and humming when it seems like you just click into place, your hand on his shoulder and on his arm as he winds around you to guide you through the song. “Think she’s still trying to find her jaw on the floor?” He muses, even though he couldn’t care one bit what she thinks or how she reacts to the news.

"Probably." The giggle — actual, real, amused giggle — that bubbles out of you is as amused as it is aghast. It feels like you've floated up onto a cloud somehow. "You know she'll tell everyone, don't you?"

“Oh yeah.” He snorts, fully aware that everyone in the room will know within the next five minutes, maybe even before the song is done. Unless she’s somehow magically struck mute or decides that she’s going to keep it to herself. “Do you mind?”

"No." Surprisingly you don't mind in the least. Not even when the people who are going to find out are his family. His friends. His community. "No, I don't mind. It serves her right for sticking her nose in, and..." You shrug slightly but keep close to him as you turn slowly around the dance floor together. "And things are different now then they were then. There's no one to keep that secret from anymore."

“They are different.” He can agree with that. “Hell, I don’t know if I still have a job.” He admits. “I’ve been told to stay here until they call me to Washington.”

"The investigation will go as long as it needs to." Which stings in a particularly tender way, now that you know why he did what he did. "I wish there was something I could do to help."

“Actually…” he smiles softly at you. “This has helped a lot.” He confesses. “I will never doubt that I did the right thing.”

"I'm sorry it's cost you so much." Of course you won't claim to be sorry that he did it. That he saved you. But you do wish it hadn't cost him everything else in the process.

“Don’t know if it cost me much.” He has been thinking it, but he’s never said those words aloud. “I think you saved my soul.”

Whatever you expected him to say, that certainly isn't it, and you tilt your head slightly in utter surprise. "That's quite a thing to say."

“It’s true.” His fingers flex on your waist, bringing you closer just a bit. “I had forgotten what it was like to care about more than the job. Or my next drink, or next fuck.” He licks his lips and sighs softly. “I wanted you to stay, I just couldn’t say the words. Not when you wanted to leave so badly.”

"As long as we're being honest..." Moving together automatically and oblivious to any-and-everything else, you only find yourself drawn in closer to Javier as you move through the dance. Your hand on his shoulder squeezes a little tighter without realizing it. "I didn't want to leave you. I just couldn't handle staying in Colombia while he was still out there."

“Oh.” He hadn’t realized that but he can see why you would want to get as far away as possible from the man who had kidnapped and tortured you. “You would have stayed if we had killed him that day?”

Somehow, with all the people you had ever talked to about that night in so many different capacities, no one had ever asked you this question. And that might be why it startles the truth out of you so easily. “If you had wanted me to.”

“Yes.” He murmurs softly, looking into your eyes and wondering why the hell he hadn’t said anything about how special you had become to him then. “I’m selfish enough that I would have wanted you to.”

"We...weren't good at talking about things then." Not like you apparently are now. Maybe it's just that enough time has passed. Maybe it's that the pressure in your lives is so much less now. That the world doesn't seem to be pressing down on both of your shoulders as it falls apart at the seams.

“No, we weren’t.” He can admit that, even though he’s not great about talking now. But you should be the one he’s willing to make an exception for. “Maybe we just needed time.” He ponders. “Or maybe it’s needing to lose you to find out how much it would hurt.”

"It wasn't supposed to." The tempo of the song that's playing is slow and sweet and you swear it's lulling you into some kind of dream — or maybe it's the way Javier's hand is inching around your waist that's doing that instead. "It was supposed to let you live."

“That’s why I put you on that plane.” He agrees. “Because I wanted you to live how you wanted.”

You practically choke on the irony, shaking your head to banish the rising instinct of tears in the face of so much revelation. "Stubborn, self-sacrificing idiots." You almost manage to laugh, but not quite. "Both of us."

“Yeah.” He huffs, frowning slightly, but it’s a soft frown. “So what do we do now?” He knows what he wants, he knew it the moment he saw you, but he wants to know where you stand.

"I have no idea." The only thing you really know at the moment is that the song is ending but you don't want to let him go, and you're not too sure what to do with that information.

Javi hums, staring at you for a moment before the tiniest smirk starts to curl the edges of his lips. “Wrong answer.” He grumps, right before he reaches up and holds the back of your head and slants his lips against yours.

******

The sound of moaning coming from Javier Peña’s bedroom is not exactly unusual. It’s who is moaning that makes this particular evening so extraordinary.

Your back hits the doorframe as his bedroom door slams open, and maybe if you had been able to see where you were going, it might have been more graceful of an entrance. But it feels like you haven’t been able to stop kissing Javier since that moment on the dance floor. Behaving yourself on the drive back to the ranch had been excruciating and the second he threw the truck into park he had dragged you out of your seat to head into the house.

Javi chuckles into your mouth, pulling you away from the door and spinning you around so he can kick it closed. Not breaking contact for a second when he feels like he will die if he doesn’t slide inside you. Even at his most needy, he’s never been this frantic. If he didn’t think you might hit him, he would haul you against the door and fuck you right there. No he wouldn’t, your first time deserves more than that, but he feels like it.

The closed door means privacy at last and even though you could easily have pulled over to the side of the road at any time on your way back, there was an unspoken agreement here — that the first time you did this, no matter what else happened, you're going to do it right. "Javi..." Whining this name is definitely one more right thing, even if you're too far past the point of desperation to finish any kind of thought when one of his hands slides up your side to cup your tit over your dress.

“Yes.” Whatever your question is, whatever demand you have, the answer is yes. He grins when you gasp into his mouth, his fingers twisting around the tight little nub under your bra. Squeezing and kneading you before he moves to your zipper at your back, knowing he has to touch skin.

"That." You groan in deeply frustrated, tightly wound, near-relief as he tugs at your zipper and you start to pull the tails of his shirt free from his jeans.

He hums in agreement, knowing exactly what you mean as he immediately starts to unhook your bra, his tongue sliding against yours as he undoes it.

It's the first time in your life you've ever cursed buttons for existing, but you're fumbling with his shirt as his overlarge hands seem to span every inch of your skin at once and you're still craving more. Your fingers stumble over each nub of plastic, pulling his shirt open one by one, and your swear your cunt flips all over again when you find hot, bare skin underneath instead of an undershirt.

“Goddamn.” He shudders when your hand touches his stomach, nail scratching over a flat nipple. Your panties are next, pulling your clothes down to where you have to let go of him for them to fall so he can have more of you.

"Could not agree more." You manage to gasp out, shuddering with an almost painful lack of his hands on you. Having left your boots at the door, you're fully naked before him for the very first time but all you can think about is stepping forward to undo his pants and nudge him toward the bed.

You are soft, curvy. You might look at your body and see the stretch marks, the skin that isn’t as firm as you wish it to be. He just sees you and how fucking perfect you are. His cock twitches painfully when you bump against the bulge in his jeans and he groans when his fingers find the thatch of curls between your thighs.

The barest touch from his fingers is enough to make your knees wobble but you have a firm hold of his jeans and peel them away with shaky hands. Every new touch is too much and not enough, making you burn and ache in ways that you never knew possible. Too much, not enough, and completely perfect, that's the barely coherent thought in your head when you sink down to your knees in front of him and tasty the silky, salty weight of his cock on your tongue for the first time.

“Shit.” He hisses loudly, cupping your cheek and groaning when you hum around him. “Sweetheart- fuck….” His lashes flutter, watching you under hooded lids as you lick down the side of his length.

"Mmhmm." Your hum of agreement is low and indulgent as your fingers wrap around the base of him. The salty, musky tang of him fills your senses and wipes away the rest of the world in a way you never thought possible.

He’s imagined this scene more than once. A man who enjoys sex as much as Javier has imagined a lot of different things. This blows away everything he had ever thought of while his hand was wrapped around his cock. “Fuck.” He grunts again. “You are talented, sweetheart.”

A moment of cynicism might have had you convinced that he’s said that to every girl before you as well, but the thought never even occurred to you. It doesn’t matter what he’s done with or said to anyone else. The only thing that matters is that you’re finally here together — and that he already sounds even more wrecked than you had ever imagined.

It’s been a lot longer than you probably imagined since Javi had had sex, so he’s quickly closer than he would want to be. Rocking his hips back to pull his cock out of your greedy mouth. “Goddamn— I can’t- get on the bed.” He growls, wanting to make sure you enjoy yourself before he loses control.

The thin string of saliva and precum that pulls from the corner of your mouth is only barely thinner than the thread of your self-control at this point, but you manage to only whine a little when he pulls back and follow his direction to climb on top of his bed. As long as he comes with you, you’ll go anywhere he wants.

Kicking off the pants piled at his feet is the only thing left and then he can climb into bed with you. He pauses, staring at you for a moment before he frowns. “Condom?” He asks, wanting to know what you think. “I- had a physical when I got back. I’m clean.”

“I am too…” He doesn’t need to know that the work up you had when you got back to the US years ago was a new kind of torture or that you haven’t slept with any of the women you’ve dated since coming home. This is not the time for those details. All that matters is now. “I don’t—I don’t care. I just need you.”

Javi growls, jaw clenched and anyone who didn’t know him would think that he’s furious. That he’s about to lunge at you for reasons completely opposite what makes him spring forward and grab you. “Fuck.” He hisses, slamming his lips against yours again. “I’ve needed to hear that for so goddamn long.”

“For years.” All you can do is gasp. Moan. Beg.

So many fucking years have been wasted. So much time lost. Javi makes up for it. Learning your curves like he will be tested on your erogenous zones and only graded on those that are most sensitive.

His hands and mouth trace every inch of you, memorizing and committing to pleasuring every part of you in every way possible just as you do for him. It’s a glorious game of give and take where you are both the winners, never losing anything but breath and composure until he kneels between your spread legs and lunges all over again to kiss you while pushing inside your body at last.

He should have gone down on you. He had meant to. He had meant to lap at your clit and feel smug while you thrashed above him, but the soft stroke of your hand around his cock had driven him crazy. Just as interested in fucking him, your cunt is slick and damn near too wet as he slides through your folds and inside the heat of you. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck."

Your keening wail would have been heard across half of Bogotá, but the whimper that follows out is just for him as he stretches your pussy to hug the veiny length of him. In a world so full of noise and chaos no matter what the age, any lover with the ability to narrow your focus is worthwhile. But him? It feels like the rest of the world has ceased to be.

Javi’s eyes are closed like he is praying. Lips ghosting over your chin, your cheek, anywhere he can reach as he bottoms out inside you. “God.” He huffs silently, twitching and trying to resist the urge to start moving just yet.

“Nope.” You tease. You can’t help it. With one of your hands cupping his cheek, you squirm under him but hold his gaze. “Just me. Just us.”

He would snort, shoot back some sarcastic retort, but the look in your eyes stops him. The teasing mirth is mixed with real affection and he’s nodding with you. Melting into the realization that this is real, for both of you. “Just us.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again. The passion is still just as fierce, but there is a complex layer of something else mixed in.

The shift in mood from hungry to almost reverent is palpable. From a desperate demand to a blossoming prayer. So that when he draws his hips back for the first time and slowly pushes them home again, you could nearly cry along with crying out.

He shudders a groan into your mouth, absorbing your sounds and sighing in response. Pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you, holding you close while he slowly starts to rock in and out of you.

You melt into the mattress together, a mess of rolling hips and grasping limbs, sweat damp from the Texas heat and burning desire. Every cry is poured into more kisses, every moaned sound of encouragement swallowed up by the sweep of a tongue or nip of teeth. The heavy weight of him on top of you feels somehow like the missing end of your limbs, and you press in closer with every arch of your back — ink to ink, scar to scar, soul to soul.

Javi can’t get enough of you, every dip of his hips, every time you squeeze his cock tight, it’s like coming home. His nose presses against your pulse and he groans your name.

Waves of pleasure wash over you again and again, merciless in their tempo and determined to carry you away with them. So you cling to him. As if he were the anchor you did not know you needed to seek. As if he is the only thing capable of seeing you through this storm of emotions regardless of the fact that he’s caused them. He rocks into you at a steady tempo that has you sobbing his name, half moon marks biting into his shoulders when you crest that mountain of pleasure and fall apart for him.

It’s searing. Burning with how hot, how perfect it is. Making him crave the way you sob his name, gasping out in pleasure. The throbbing of your walls and the wet heat of your pleasure wrapping around him and drowning him in you. He only has one thought and it bursts from his lips when he pushes deep and gives in to the incessant need to fill you. “I love you.”

If it were any other person — any other — you would have teased. The instinct would have been too great. Professing to love someone the first time you cum inside them could be construed as so immature or inexperienced that it would have been easy to at least question it. But this moment is so honest and so vulnerable that you wrap your arms tight around him and stroke his sweat-slick back, pressing an earnest kiss to his lips instead. “I love you too.”

Acceptance, it’s something that he’s never thought he would be so fucking relieved to receive. You love him too. It’s not one sided, it’s not built up in his head with layers of guilt and yearning. It’s not twisting into falsehoods and teaming with expectations. It just is. He groans into your mouth and slides his tongue against yours when you open your mouth for him.

You lie tangled up in each other like that for as long as you can. Sharing kisses and holding onto each other like the other will evaporate if you let go. You’ve loved him since before you left Colombia. You have and you do. For it to be shared? Is your most far fetched dream come true.

He knows that a conversation has to happen, probably several of them. Right now though, he just wants to hold you. His fingers trace your shoulder and down your spine when you twist into his side. He had frowned when you didn’t throw your leg over his and had reached down to pull it up on his body. “That’s better, baby.” He hums before he had started his little teasing touches. “Fuck, I need a cigarette.” He chuckles.

“Same.” You laugh right along with him, snuggling into his side. “Except I can’t remember where I left my purse.”

“I’m trying to quit.” He admits. “But I think it doesn’t count if you share a cigarette, right?” The mood is light, almost playful and he feels more relaxed than he has in years.

"Definitely not." Your sage agreement comes with a kiss that you press to his chest. "I quit when I got back to the States but then everybody at the restaurant smokes, so I slowly picked it back up again."

“I’ve got a pack of cigarettes in my nightstand.” He motions towards the side closest to you. “Light us one up and we should probably have a long overdue talk.”

------

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[gremlingottoosilly]

The horror and the wild [!emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] ch.5

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5l you're here! AO3

Word count: 3188 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

Warnings for this chapter: Predator/Prey kink, mild choking

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her. Little princess is dumb and naive and oh, so deliciously weak, it makes Konig sick just how much he adores her pouty face, her aggressive expressions, and that squeak in her voice every time he does something to embarrass her – which he does, a lot, in fact. Quite aware of how his war dog lingo would affect an innocent young lady like his precious dearest darling illustrious wife, he uses it to hi advantage – when you have your lady cornered, heavy panting and cumming from your tongue and your fingers in her tight royal cunt, she wouldn’t be able to open her mouth for something meaningless, right? Thou shall not think as thou would be a sin against god. 

Emperor is a sinner, but he still believes that you shall always follow the religious instructions – as if not ever trying to oppose him and speak like you have the right to think in his presence. Perhaps, his devotion to making you weak and pliable in his arms is what led to this situation. 

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her, so little princess runs. 

You might brag about your best education and most elegant courses for women you attended in the palace – but he knows just how empty your adorable little head is, because you had no idea how much the thrill of the hunt turns him on. 

You’re nowhere to be found, escaped through the window of the room you were stationed in – it was his mistake, assigning you a place from which you could jump so easily. Next time, he will cuff you to his bedpost, like a loyal palace dog lying on his legs. Next time, he will make sure to love you so eagerly that your legs won’t work for at least a few days. 

He doesn’t even need his hunting dogs to catch you. Horangi offers his help, Tiger so eager to come out and play with a little princess, perhaps maul her a bit, showing the royal cunt what she deserves for disrespecting her emperor and his subjects – but oh no, this won’t do. König needs to discipline you himself, track your scent like the hound he is, and get you back to your wedding bed with your body in his teeth. 

Woe on you, dumb little princess, as your emperor considers escape attempts the richest form of courting. 

Following you through the forest near the castle, your footsteps are clear in the mud and dirt – a piece of your dress serves as a grinding light. Your scent, delicious sweetness, and fresh flower oils maid had infused you with made it laughably easier to find you. He can almost see the glimpses of your body running through the woods – god, he knew that he wanted you and was right about taking you away. 

How can he resist a wedding gift from his bride who wants to play tag? He follows you like a madman, a dog, he sees through trees, trying to see where you could run. The deep golden brown of your dress almost made you look like a forest spirit standing in the depths of the woods – if it weren’t for König’s trained eye, he would rather mistake you for a tree. Or a particularly precious deer. 

He licks his lips, a wolf approaching the bunny he was hunting for so long – you run away, still try to. These dumb skirts aren’t made for running away from your fiancee in a forest – you can barely walk in those, poor thing. You take a step back, panicking, squawking from fear, as he approaches you as slowly as possible. 

Perhaps, if he gives you one more chance to run, it would make the chase even more precious. 

He is used to hunting with his royal hounds, with a group of his closest friends by his side – war hawks helping hunt for prey, the animal snifters making the whole process laughably easy. He doesn’t have anyone for the company now. 

Only you, him, and wilderness – and his adoring love for everything you do. 

— Stop resisting, little princess.

You whimper, but your little annoyed expression makes him only harder. Hell, how he adores your frown, how much he wants to kiss your face right now – god knows he is holding himself back these days. Little princess doesn’t deserve to get her innocence taken on her back, legs open on the dirt of the royal forest – but sometimes you act like a good lashing, and some passionate mating is the only thing that would keep you in line. 

He yells in your direction, hoping that even that dumb head of yours has some sense in it – the chase is fun, and he would continue it more until you’re completely unraveled under him, exhausted and defeated – but, oh, your silly desire to be free has led you to the edge of the lake. Dancing on the shaky, soft sands and warm mud of the pond, your clothes leave you with very small chances of getting out of here in one piece. 

He doesn’t want to be the bringer of doom, but just one sleep, a nervous movement that you can’t control – and the little princess of his dreams will come flying in the dark waters. Even if your royal majesty knows how to swim, the heavy fabrics of your garments would be declared as your executioners. 

You look so fragile like this – your skirt is lifted, showing your pretty ankles, as you’re trying to jump from stone to stone, as far away from him as possible. You’re scared, only reminding him more of the bunnies he used to hunt as a kid – and he is almost offended that you’d prefer that risk of drowning over getting in the hands of your husband again, but alas, princesses are usually not the smartest creatures on the planet. 

— I’d rather die, Your Majesty. 

You bite your lips and look at him, so stubborn and cute – the feelings in him rise, your arrogant expression making the thrill of the hint ever sweeter. God, he cannot control himself around you like this – you should stop trying to make yourself sweeter for him, he already wants to keep you chained in his bed and never let you go. 

You’re so…

Ach. 

His path of thought is stopped by the splash of water. 

Dumb thing, you really decided to make the most of your words – like a cornered animal, you jumped in the lake, getting to the bottom almost immediately. Your dress is heavy and expensive, all the weight of the fabrics pinning you down in elaborate execution. Your emperor stands on the small beach, looking at the water circles going from where you fell…and then he jumps straight after you. 

The last thing you remembered before the world went dark was the scream of a man who, for the first time in his life, had experienced genuine fear. 

*** You wake up warm – and naked. 

No wet clothes, no heavy dress lingering on your skin like a soft coffin. 

You’re as naked as the day you were born, shivering despite the warmness of the room and the crackling of fire somewhere near you. You remember this room – a royal bedroom, quickly made as your quarters when you moved to this god-forsaken castle. Empire has some horribly extensive architecture, and this room, big, stony, and expelled of any decor, has only made you feel regret ever waking up. 

You wished to wake up in the cold embrace of your Princess – but you open your eyes and see this room over and over again. Why couldn’t death come sooner? 

— It was incredibly stupid even for you, little princess. 

König sits on the edge of the bed. A future husband shouldn’t sit like this, resembling a servant who is scared for the health of his misstress. His eyes are filled with cold fury and other emotions that you can’t quite grasp – you don’t want to look at his face too much as even the mere glimpse is making you uncomfortable. God knows you are not in the mood for trying to talk to your captor. 

God knows he doesn’t care about your wishes. 

— If you can only provide me freedom in case of my death…

— You will not be free after your death. 

You sigh, shocked – your brain isn’t nearly ready for this information when you just almost died. You shift in your bed, trying to pretend that you accidentally fell asleep – but the emperor pushes his hand on your cheek, warm fingers lingering on the cold skin. You sigh quietly, sealing his warmth. 

You fight the desire to nuzzle in his palm like an obedient little pet. 

— It’s not for you to decide, Your Majesty. I should be allowed to die on my own accord. 

— I'm entitled to your life, my bride. Don’t make me remind you of this, ja? 

— I would rather… 

— I can deliver death to you, little one. In a verdammt heartbeat. 

His hand goes from a warm presence on your cheek to an angry squeeze of your neck – you cough when he continues to shut your breath, fluttering of your neck in his grasp only makes your defeat even sweeter. König has you right where he wants it – under him, holding firmly in his grasp like some exotic bird he picked up from his travels. 

Lack of air makes you dizzy – as ironic as it sounds, you feel airheaded, hands clinging to his massive palm in a poor attempt to make him let you go. You whimper, you cry, you feel death all too soon – you want to die, of course, maybe, willingly meeting in hell with the royalty you had sworn to serve, but you don’t want to be killed. Tears run down your cheeks when you finally see the other side of him – out of control, angry, worse even than the conqueror you saw when you first met. 

You feel replaceable and small – he squeezes your throat like you aren’t his bride like you don’t mean anything to him, and, yes, it makes you feel hurt. Vulnerable as ever, your manicured nails have zero power over him – he only laughs at your helpless expression. For a second, it makes you think this is it – the last thing you would ever see is the cold anger in the eyes of your emperor. 

When your vision finally got blurry enough so you could not see anything anymore, König softly lowered his face closer to you, lifting the bottom part of his weird, strange hood. Smothering you with his lips, delivering the air you were craving for – if only to make himself feel even more in control. You’re lightheaded and a bit dumb, still, your mind is too delirious to actually understand anything that is happening around you. 

His lips are warm and dry, you steal air from his lungs with each second – you feel the energy feeling you up again, eyes are finally set enough to see at least some part of his face. Chiseled chin, covered in scars, tanned skin – you’re surprised that he is not as pale as you thought he must be, with his love for the masks. 

His veins are dark and rotten – you don’t understand how he can survive with his blood looking like this, but the dark tendrils of his body almost make him more of a curiosity than an actual human being. It’s only his lips that are still holding you in realms of the living. You don’t want to think of the implications and gossip you heard from some servants that were allowed to go out – allowed to witness the growth of the empire that was soon to eat you all. 

König finally lets go of your mouth when you start falling asleep again. You don’t allow him to simply cover his lips with his hood again though – your hands are heading to lend on his neck, fingers tracing the outlines of his veins. 

A medical curiosity, this emperor – you squeeze the rot of his neck, and he moans like you just did something that he liked too much. 

It’s only fitting that he has the body of a monster – for all he is done, you wouldn't be surprised if his head actually resembles the one of an octopus from silly books you were reading or a mess of dark tendrils, wiggling and swarming. Your delirious, oxygen-deprived mind still wants to touch him more, to satisfy your curiosity in all the more fitting ways. Maybe take your research a bit further down to see if he truly is a man down there. 

But oh well, you saw his body before – although you never as much as paid attention to that detail. Did he change in a few days that passed? Does his veins start to spew out darkness because he is…

He crushed your hand in his, almost making you feel a crack in your dainty lady fingers. God forbid you feel like your hands are being torn apart. 

— Never try to defy me like this again. 

He spews the words with anger than would be fitting for the enemy – and he is, for you, but you were sure that he didn’t consider you one of them. The contrast with his soft actions earlier, you can feel tears collecting in your eyes as he slowly lets go of your hand. 

Not knowing what to do, you roll to the side, burning desire to never see his face – or lack thereof – ever again. Like an angry cat that doesn’t know how to stop biting, you feel like you’re going to cry again and again. 

You whimper, trying to escape the haunting gaze of his eyes – and his face softens, if only for a bit. He presses his hand against your damp forehead, checking the temperature. You don’t want to forgive him just yet – for anything at this matter, but he is soft at this moment, and somehow, it is almost enough. Somehow, you almost feel like you can breathe again. 

— I was so scared, little princess. I don’t like being scared. 

You laugh dryly, your face is still deep in the pillow. You are trying to ignore the beast, but the beast decided that you’re his best option for a nice free snack. Beast decided to take off some of his clothes – you don’t see it, but you hear the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and you don’t want to even think how much it cost. 

You try to cover your naked body with the silk sheets of your bed, but soft fabric only entices your desires in a way that can only be called sinful. You remember the sensation of his tongue between your legs, your desire to simply run out of your skin because of how good it felt – each stroke made you strive further and further away from your duties. Like a good little maid you are, a perfect lady in waiting, waiting for her demise, you have to ignore all the mortal pleasures. 

If you want the royal family to truly forgive you in their graves, you would have to join them. Perhaps, you gave up on drowning too fast. 

— It wasn’t my intention. 

He shifts, the bed is too small for someone like him. You feel his legs, clothed, thank god, touching your naked thighs – and you immediately stir to the further side. You keep your arms and legs in check, getting into a small ball of limbs as you’re trying to comfort yourself without his touch. You don’t want to admit it, but König is warm, warmer than you thought he had the right to be, and you’re freezing. The phantom feeling of cold water on your skin is making you shiver. 

— What were your intentions then? 

If the emperor knows about manners and how a fiancee should behave around his bride that he didn’t even consummate the marriage, he is ignoring that knowledge. Large hands pinning you to his chest, warm and firm – to your utter dread, he took off the armor plates and even the simple shirt under it, making you helplessly squish your cheek against his muscles. He smells like a man, and you never knew you’d feel that smell in your life. 

You don’t hate it. 

— You killed by parents, Your Majesty. 

He only laughs, his hand goes to stroke your back. This is a contrast with his coldness before – he is soft and warm with you, and you hate that you don’t hate it. Gigantic palm goes to settle between your shoulder blades and you simply sigh, trying to get used to his touches. You don’t want to, but a good servant should adapt to everything, so you do just that. Adapting, deforming, melding yourself in something you never knew you even could be. 

Your head hurts, and you whimper when his gentle massage relaxes your sore muscles. You hate his gentleness, you hate his firmness. 

You want him to let you go, but you don’t even know where you would go. 

— Your parents, little princess? Really? 

There is a vile mockery in his voice, and you immediately remember who this man is. Not some devoted lover and slightly obsessive romanticist – he is dangerous, horrible, he is the conqueror of your country. You may not have warm feelings about the royal family, but he doesn’t know this – his laugh and mockery of your “family” must be real. It has to be, or else you’re going to die after your deceiving has been opened. 

He pushes you even closer to him, and you whimper like a dumb little dog without any means of stopping him from touching you. There is some freedom from being exposed like this, but you still don’t like it. Still feel like he is going to murder you, given the reason. 

— If anything, my men did it. That dog you called a father did not deserve my sword. 

Anger fills your whole body – not because you were particularly close with the king, but because König is parading his mockery of your supposed family. He hugs you with hands that are covered in blood, no matter if he is just the one to give orders. 

You try to get out of his grasp, but apathy fills you. What’s the point if the royal family is dead? What’s the point if you aren’t even the real princess. 

— You will not call my father…

He makes you shut your mouth when he kisses your head. Sweet and soft, you do not understand his intentions. If anything, it feels like yet another mockery. 

— I will call him like I want, meine Liebe. And you will still be mine. 

— I won’t just take it, Your Majesty. 

He laughs again. You feel sick. 

— With our wedding tomorrow, little flower, you will have to take it. Not the last thing you’ll take on that day, little princess. 

You feel like you are going to be sick. 

König kisses you again, forcing you to sleep in his hands. 

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter One: Filly

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: You, a seasoned bounty hunter, team up with a gruff ghoul to capture a high-value target. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.2k

Bounty hunting is no walk in the park, but the rewards make it worthwhile. Your body aches as you trudge through the settlement known as Filly. Pushy vendors eagerly try to sell you their wares, with one particularly persistent one urging you to spend your hard-earned caps on dog meat. Politely declining their offers, you navigate your way through the bustling street towards the more reputable shops and services.

Having visited Filly a few times before, you recognize familiar faces among the locals. You exchange a silent greeting with the local repair girl and spot Ma June preparing to open her shop for the day, making a mental note to stop by later. As you approach a semi-functional Nuka Cola machine, you catch sight of a man seated in a chair. He's dressed like an outlaw from the Wild West, giving off an air of danger. His gaze locks with yours as you pass by.

A ghoul.

You've had mostly positive experiences with ghouls in the wasteland, but this one seems different. There's something about him that sets off alarm bells in your head. Feeling bold, you approach him after grabbing an unbearably warm Nuka Cola.

"Hey," you stand in front of him and take a sip. "I don't personally have a problem with ghouls, but the folk around here aren't too fond of them."

Smirking, he looks up at you, his sunken eyes and lack of nose more pronounced in the sunlight. Most people find ghouls unsettling, but you've grown accustomed to their appearance after years of interacting with them.

"That may be true," he drawls. "but I ain't here to make friends."

You offer him a sip of your drink, he stares at you in confusion. Taking it as a rejection, you finish the rest and toss the bottle aside.

"You look like you're either playing cowboy or you're a bounty hunter," you remark.

"What's your guess?" he snarls.

Leaning towards him, you place your hands on the arms of his chair. "I'm guessing you're here looking for a specific doctor."

"You're pretty bold for getting so close to a ghoul, smoothskin."

"And you're pretty bold for assuming I've never been closer." A small smile creeps onto your face as he looks at you curiously.

"I'm sure our paths will cross again. Until then..." Stepping back, you give him a casual salute and walk away.

The presence of the ghoul gives you the feeling that shit is about to go down so you decide to hang around on the outskirts of Filly. Leaning against a tree just outside the bustling street of vendors, you can hear the sound of raised voices and the unmistakable echoes of gunfire coming from the center of town.

"Called it," you mutter under your breath. There's no need to dive headfirst into the chaos when you can simply wait it out and observe the aftermath. Given the hefty reward on the line for this particular doctor, it's unlikely that he'll be an easy target. If he's anything like the other high-value bounties you've pursued in the past, he'll find a way to slip away, and you'll have to track him down.

Inhaling deeply, you take a moment to assess your surroundings, ensuring that your rifle and pistol are in proper working order. As you inspect your weapons, the air is suddenly filled with distorted screams, "No, no, no!" Looking up, you witness a spectacle that catches you off guard. A suit of Power Armor is soaring uncontrollably through the sky above you. Could it be the Brotherhood of Steel? This bounty just keeps getting crazier.

The Power Armor veers off in the opposite direction, leaving you to wonder what in the wasteland is going on. With the chaotic gunfight seemingly subsiding, you make your way back towards the town center. It appears that the flying garbage can and ghoul have caused quite the commotion, scattering the combatants and bringing an end to the firefight.

As you draw closer to the scene, the absurdity of the situation becomes even more apparent. Bodies, torn apart and scattered haphazardly, litter the ground. The locals, seizing the opportunity, have already begun looting them. You catch sight of the ghoul making his way towards a path that leads out of town. Without a moment's hesitation, you decide to follow him.

Quickening your pace, you navigate through the debris and bodies, doing your best to avoid the looters who pay you no mind. The ghoul moves quickly with a dog by his side, his sunken eyes focused on his route to the wastes.

As you approach the outskirts of town, the ghoul glances back, acknowledging your pursuit. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he comes to a halt and turns to face you.

"I ain't accepting companions," he declares, a note of irritation in his voice.

"That's too bad," you reply with a smirk, coming to a stop in front of him. Your attention is drawn to the dog standing beside him, looking up at you with a wagging tail. A warm feeling washes over you - you've always had a soft spot for dogs.

Kneeling down, you scratch behind the dog's ears and ask, "What's her name?"

"I don't fuckin' know," the ghoul snaps back.

You raise an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and confusion on your face. "Did you hit your head back there? How do you not know your dog's name?"

The ghoul rolls his eyes slightly, clearly exasperated. "She ain't my dog. She was with the doctor. Along with some vault dweller."

A surge of curiosity courses through you at the mention of the doctor and the vault dweller. This situation just keeps getting more intriguing. You stand up, still keeping an eye on the ghoul.

“A vault dweller?”

He begins to draw his gun and points it at you, “Give me a reason not to shoot your ass. You’re startin’ to annoy me.”

“Calm down, beef jerky.” Taking a step back, you maintain a calm demeanor. “I think we can help each other out.”

The ghoul's grip on his gun tightens, but he hesitates, seemingly intrigued by your proposition. "I don't need help.”

“Oh but yes, you do.” You pull out a small vial filled with amber liquid, capturing his attention. “This dog will do a great job tracking its owner but I’ll do an even better job of making sure you don’t go feral. No offense but you seem pretty old - even for a ghoul.”

The ghoul's grip on his gun loosens, and he seems to consider your words. After a moment, he reluctantly lowers his weapon. "Fine," he grumbles. "But don't think I owe you anything."

You nod with a small smile, "Fair enough."

[penkura]

last forever [2/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: Why yes I did write this after watching OPLA, why do you ask?

[Ch. 1]

Of course, it just had to be a crazy clown that was your next opponent. You didn't fear clowns but you didn't like them terribly much either, so being up against Buggy the Clown and his crew of pirates was making this day worse for you.

First, Luffy had been snatched away by a freaking bird that he tried to catch and turn into food (how he expected to cook it, you had no idea). You and Zoro quickly followed after, not even stopping to properly pick up the men you found in the middle of the ocean who were calling for help. Even when they tried to rob you, the glares the two of you gave and the slight beating from Zoro, once they realized who he was, the three men you picked up took over the rowing and brought you to Orange Town.

Once you found him, Luffy had already been thrown into a cage by Buggy, Zoro making an attempt to dice the clown who only proved he was perfectly fine afterwards, stabbing Zoro instead.After practically jumping from the rooftop with him still in the cage, the girl gave the key up, before it was swallowed by a little dog. The mayor of the town appeared before you next and you asked for a place to treat Zoro's stab wound and where he could rest, Mayor Boodle taking you all to his house.

"I don't need you to treat it, I'll sleep it off."

Zoro nearly flinched at the glare you set on him, making him take his shirt off so you could see the wound better.

"Sleep it off, what a load of crock," Shaking your head, you threaded a needle and sterilized it with a match, "You know that's not how you heal from stab wounds, dummy."

As you started stitching the wound, Zoro watched you closely like he always did. You'd done this so many times at this point, having been terrified of giving him stitches at first, until the worst wound you'd seen him get. He wasn't anywhere near close to bleeding out from it, but after an hour of it still bleeding, you forced him back onto the hotel bed and started stitching him up, pushing away your fears and the tears that you felt welling up as you did so. When you had finished, Zoro was impressed and thanked you, making you smile before you burst into tears over the whole thing.

"What are you crying for?!"

"I…I've never…done that before!"

He'd never have guessed you hadn't done stitches before, but your work never tore, he took it upon himself to remove them when you said it was safe to do. He didn't want you to start crying again.

After that you stitched up any severe wounds he had, just as you were doing at that moment.

"Okay," you cut the thread and finally nodded once you were done, "Now you can sleep. Don't do anything to tear the stitches though."

"Fine."

You put your items away while Zoro laid down, telling him you were going to see if you could help get Luffy out of the cage and ask about this other girl if she was joining you all or not. Before you left, you gave him another glare.

"You better stay still and sleep."

"I will, trust me on that."

Satisfied, you finally left and Zoro smiled to himself before falling asleep.

Not so bad having her as a wife.

+!+

Your hope that you'd all get out of Orange Town without a fight was gone as you stood in front of Cabaji with your own sword drawn. You had told (yelled at) Zoro to go back to resting instead of bothering to fight this acrobat, turning it into an argument between the two of you.

Zoro believed he was completely fine and could fight, despite you noticing the small winces of pain every now and then. Still though, he wouldn't listen to you and attempted several times to move you out of the way so he could fight.

It angered you more than anything, and you finally turned around and glared at him, Zoro more so thinking it was almost cute rather than scary like you thought it'd be.

"Gosh, why the hell are you such a stubborn man?!"

"Says the equally stubborn woman!"

Luffy watched the two of you, amused at how you acted like you really were a married couple despite you saying it wasn't a real marriage. He was starting to not believe you.

Zoro, on the other hand, was getting more frustrated with you as you placed yourself between him and Cabaji, who watched you two in annoyance at the fact neither of you were fighting him, but were fighting each other.

Get a room geez.

"I don't need you fighting battles for me!"

"You're still injured, you oaf!" You screeched back at Zoro, not stopping an attack from the annoyed Cabaji in time. He threw a kick into your side, sending you towards a building. You only stopped and didn't fly right into the building thanks to Zoro moving quickly enough to stop you, grabbing you around the waist to keep you from hitting anything but him.

"You all right?" He was quiet, but the look on his face told you he was angry. At you or Cabaji, you weren't sure, but you nodded. You'd always felt his bandana made him look scarier when he was in battle, but the way he looked at you this time, despite the anger, was more like he was worried about you, maybe. Zoro would probably never admit such a thing to you if you asked.

You were in pain, hissing a slight bit when Zoro set you down. You figured it was just going to be some bruising, nothing to worry about, even though it hurt at that moment.

Zoro made sure you were safe, before standing back up and setting the harshest glare you'd seen from him yet on Cabaji.

"Don't you dare touch my wife again."

Never had you felt like someone was fighting for you or your honor before then. The fact Zoro willingly called you his wife, that stuck in your head on repeat while you watched him fight and defeat Cabaji, moving past your own pain to hurry over and protect him as he fell asleep again. Of course he'd claim he was healing no problem that was, but you still wanted him to be safe while Luffy defeated Buggy.

Luckily Luffy carried him off to your ship as the townspeople chased you off for a misunderstanding, and you could breathe easily to know you all were safe, the orange haired girl named Nami joining you temporarily.

After you checked Zoro's stitches and for any other wounds, you were surprised by Nami offering you to sit with her in the boat she'd stolen, so you didn't have to be alone with two boys. You took her up on it, and she pulled you close to whisper.

"Hey…Zoro called you his wife…is he legit?"

Your face turned bright red, having already forgotten that because of your quick escape from the town. He really had then, it wasn't just you hearing things.

Was that progress? Would things slowly change and develop for the two of you, could you live as a married pirate couple one day? Have kids even?

Were you getting ahead of yourself? Definitely, considering he'd only said it once and likely wasn't thinking, your assumption due to the possible pain he was still in, even though he would deny it instantly if you even started to ask.

"Umm, hello," Nami snapped her fingers in front of your face, making you shake your head and ask her to repeat what she said, "I asked if Zoro was being honest when he said you were his wife."

You blinked a few times, before finally smiling slightly. "Well…technically, yes, he's being honest."

Nami didn't let you go back to the boys the rest of your ride to the next island, demanding every detail despite you only knowing each other for a few hours.

It looked like you had a new best friend.

+!+

The events in Syrup Village led to your recruitment of a new member, Usopp, and being given the Going Merry as your first, real ship as a crew. You and Nami spent time learning how the ship worked, Usopp eventually joining you and telling stories that you may have known right off the bat weren't entirely truthful. You did enjoy them though, laughing through them during dinner that night alongside Luffy.

"Soooo," leaning over, you gave Usopp a grin, "Kaya huh? That was a nice little kiss there."

Nami burst into a laugh at how wide Usopp's eyes got, before he started stammering and trying to say something, you grinning even more and asking him what it was like to get a kiss.

"Never had one before so I wouldn't know."

"I…it…nice…it was nice…"

You and Nami started doting on Usopp over it, telling him how he could always write to Kaya and keep in touch that way. The romance talk flew over Luffy's head but he still talked about how nice Kaya was and how tough Kuro had been, while Zoro got more annoyed as it went on, eventually leaving the table after he finished his drink and stepping outside, which you did notice right away.

Downing the last of your own bit of wine, you excused yourself from your friends, heading to the deck and finding Zoro there, leaned against the railing with his eyes closed. Normally you'd assume he was sleeping, but since it'd only been about a minute and you knew he didn't sleep standing up (wouldn't have surprised you though), you knew he was still awake and would talk to you.

"Hey," you joined Zoro against the rail, making him look at you and nod slightly while you tilted your head, "What'd you leave for?"

"Tired."

"Why aren't you in bed then?"

"Who can sleep with all the laughing?"

"Oh please, you almost slept through a tornado once."

"Shut up."

You rolled your eyes but smiled, deciding to look out at sea and watch the waves that gently rocked the ship. You'd anchored for the night in the middle of the sea, Nami placing you on the first watch of the night since you said you weren't tired while most everyone else was. You didn't mind, it'd give you some alone time to watch the stars and think, to enjoy being by yourself as you so rarely got to do lately.

"Have you heard from your parents?"

Zoro's question made you shake your head, him sighing once you did. You'd not gotten a single letter from them, your carrier bird only bringing newspapers from home so you could keep up on how things were going that didn't involve your arranged marriage.

You wondered if they even got your first letter at all at this point.

"Not a thing…only newspapers from home.

"Mm."

"They've still got my picture in it as if I've been kidnapped."

"Maybe they didn't get your letter and the papers."

You shrugged, biting your lip. You wanted to say something about it, tell him you didn't want to do the annulment even if your parents wrote back that the arranged marriage was over, that they accepted your current marriage. You'd rather stay married to him, try a relationship before signing any papers, but you also knew that saying anything like that would likely cause Zoro to shut you out, or tell you how he didn't want to be in a relationship, he didn't want to be married whether he knew of your feelings or not.

He'd probably never return your feelings and you'd have wasted your time instead of just doing the annulment, or divorce if your six months passed without a letter.

But, maybe, you could just tell him how you felt right then, see what his thoughts were and go from there.

Maybe.

"Zoro, I–"

"I'm going to bed. Just let me know when you hear anything."

"O-Oh, yeah…sure."

Once he left, you sighed and sunk to the ground, wishing you hadn't been such a coward at the moment and asked him to stay so you could actually talk to Zoro about the situation between the two of you. Granted yes, things had moved quickly since you joined Luffy, but still. There were a few times you should have sat down and talked, but every time you wanted to, Zoro was doing something or sleeping. At this rate you figured you'd never get things settled with him.

"Hey, you good?" Usopp popped up beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulders while you just nodded, not saying a word. He didn't fully believe you, taking note of the slight sadness on your face, before he smiled. "Have I told you about the giant sea monster that attacked my village?"

"Don't think so."

"Oh it was a huge beast! At least forty, no fifty feet!"

The rest of your night was spent laughing at more of Usopp's stories on the deck, enjoying yourself and forgetting your worries for the time being.

Zoro had, however, turned back to go talk to you about your sham marriage before he went to bed. The two of you never properly spoke about it after leaving the town you'd married in, but he was sure that you had feelings for him from the way you acted at times. Overly concerned with his well being, you forcing him to rest in Orange Town, the glances you'd take every now and then too. Everything pointed to you having developed feelings for him, and Zoro didn't want that right now.

He didn't want distractions from his goals and didn't want you distracted from yours. He had to put a stop to your feelings then and there, even if all it ended up being was a pause on your end.

He didn't expect, though, for you to be laughing with Usopp when he made it back to the deck, choosing to watch you for a moment. You smiled and laughed again, shoving Usopp on the arm while he grinned and made a large gesture with his hands, likely an exaggeration in whatever story he was telling you. Zoro didn't know why he had such a tight feeling in his chest seeing this, but it was enough for him after a few minutes of neither of you noticing him. He turned around and returned to his hammock, trying to ignore the annoyance he felt when Usopp and Luffy came into the room, Usopp mentioning how fun you were to talk to.

I'm not jealous. Not at all.

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Chapter 5: Part 2

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: Finding them wasn’t hard, not when they towered above everyone else with ease, and not when the people parted between you and them like the Red Sea. In spite of how many were gathered for the event, and the fact that the day wasn’t even about them, they monopolized all the attention without effort.

Of course, they would.

They were picture perfect – handsome, strong, alluring. They were the cream of the crop, even when they weren’t trying, and would be in any place they went to, not just within this small place you’d chosen to settle down in.

Something cold settled at the base of your esophagus as you processed what you saw.

You wished you hadn’t seen them. CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: angst, reader being very bad at feelings (dense as fucking bricks (seriously, don’t expect her to be smart or logical, she’s not)) | Smut, unprotected sex, p in v, p in a, fingering + anal, oral (f & m receiving), double pen in two holes, biting/marking Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2 WC: 15k

Fairy lights wrapped around the pergola, dipping between the wooden beams to create a droopy weave, illuminating the short dais used to officiate the wedding. A swarm of tables surrounded the front of it, dozens of candles lit all about. Plates were set atop each table, and the slips of paper to indicate whose seat belonged to who had been set aside when everyone took their place earlier to feast.

Meals were exchanged for dancing and partying, filling the landscape with loud festivities.

It resembled a dream, this hazy setting and ambient glow at the center of the park.

Dozens upon dozens of people had gathered to celebrate the day – you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire village had shown up. Given how tight-knit the community was here, it was logical that everyone and their dog would come to rejoice in the special occasion. It was lively with the sheer amount of people around, each chattering excitedly, high off the triumph of two coming together as one.

Following suit of the many before you, you had slipped off your sandals, using Satoru’s hand as support while you tucked them away somewhere out of the way, but easy to find.

The grass was pleasant under your bare feet, fluffy and cool, but not so cold as to be biting.

Frequently, you would skirt your hands along the texture of your dress, preening from the delight of feeling pretty. The last time you’d dolled yourself up like this was far enough in the past for you to not remember, so you were a tad obsessed.

You manifested being sexier as you were falling asleep in bed, and here you were! Sexy was the understatement of the century – you looked hot.

Too bad you were a hint shy of showing off during a wedding in a village you’d barely begun sprouting roots in. 

Satoru and Suguru had no similar qualms.

They were wholly eager to pose and strut you around on their arms like a queen. It was humiliating and exhilarating in equal measure. Acrimonious discontentment from other guests vying for your position rolled off your hydro-proof form, boosting your ego and leaving you untouchable.

It was humorous, really, to watch them fall over themselves to get the attention of one or both boys, blocked by the armor your existence alone made of them.

Good Lord, though, there were a lot of them.

You mentally tried to calculate how many of the people attending knew about Aoi’s and her fiancé’s – now husband’s – escapades through the evening. Maybe it was the whole village. You imagined it would be hard to not know; they sounded like foxes, or mountain lions, if she was in the mood to sound particularly murder-victim-esque.

You were grateful you didn't have to interact with the groom and bride much. Anytime you saw them, you remembered his bare ass on the one night you forgot about Shoko’s warning about Thursdays and learned the consequences the hard way. His half-ass (literally) had been seared into your mind.

Seeing familiar faces here brought you a comfort you didn’t know you needed, coaxing you to release your wound muscles. Granny was across the field, talking to Shoko and Iori. Scolding, more like. The old lady was tugging on the edge of Shoko’s mini dress, no doubt reprimanding her for the length of it.

Shoko could not have possibly been less bothered.

She had a drink in one hand, lit cigarette pinched between two fingers and pressed against the glass, and a shiteating smirk on her lips. You’d only ever seen her in baggy or thick clothes, but, wow, she pulled off that outfit like a model.

Utahime was hanging off her arm, three beers in and working on a fourth, using Granny’s distraction to chug away shamelessly. In contrast to Shoko, her clothing was modest, consisting of a floral-patterned maxi dress, her hair tied back into one ponytail as opposed to her typical pigtails.

You’d seen Kazuhiko, too, surprisingly. You two talked briefly, your short conversation consisting of you updating him on the state of your house and promising to show him at the next opportunity as his wife was dragging him off to socialize. His wife was hyper, enthusiastic about meeting everyone and sharing her congratulations to the couple. You envied her innocence, wishing for her to never have to experience what you did.

The sound of someone calling – screaming, to be more accurate – your name captured your attention. You spun, and found Suguru’s mother frantically waving her hands high above herself, as if she didn’t stand a head and a half above everyone else.

You grinned and waved back, then tugged on the sleeve of Satoru’s suit. “I’m gonna go talk with Suguru’s mom. I’ll be back soon.”

He and Suguru were placing bets on who would get shitfaced first between Utahime and Shoko, and barely spared you a nod. “Don’t take too long, princess!” He implored.

You vaguely confirmed you wouldn’t as you made your way to the woman, who came to meet you halfway, too impatient to wait for you to approach.

“Hi, Geto-mama,” you said, and swiftly got squished to her chest in a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh, my sweetie!” She squealed. “Aren’t you just the prettiest thing? Goodness, that dress looks amazing on you! Did you pick it out? It fits you so well!”

She spoke like a full-auto gun, babbling out words faster than sound.

“Thank you,” you rasped out, patting her back. “It was Suguru and Satoru, they got it for me.”

She grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you back to get a good look at you. She inspected your outfit from head to toe, scrutinizing. Eventually, you gained an extra dash of approval from her, making you feel honored.

“They did a fantastic job, those two. You look gorgeous, baby girl. Even better than the bride,” she acclaimed.

You blushed. “Don’t say that! This is her wedding!”

She bent down and cupped a hand around your ear. “Forgive me for favoring my beloved girl over the bride. Those two go at it like dogs, it’s hard to look her in the damn eye after seeing her husband’s bare ass.”

You gasped. “You, too!?”

Sympathy shined in her caramel eyes. “Oh, my darling child, the world is evil to have subjected you to the sight of that man’s poor excuse of a behind.”

You burst out into laughter, Yoriko doing the same shortly after. It was relieving to know you weren’t the only one traumatized by the sight of a pasty pair of cheeks, even more so that it was Geto-mama who understood your pain.

“Think they’ll go at it again tonight?” You asked, fanning your face to keep tears from ruining your makeup. “Y’know, consummation and all that.”

“Heavens, I hope not,” she feigned a gag. “I’ll down all the alcohol here in one go if they do that in the park of all places. God forbid they do it while the party is still going. At the very least, they could have some decency to go into the mountains, far from here.” 

“How many people do you think know about their, uh…activities?” You questioned, pointedly glancing around.

She stood akimbo. “Oh, it has to be everyone. I can hear them from my house, and that’s on the other side of the river. Thursday nights, we put on a movie and turn up the volume louder in hopes of drowning out the sounds. I mean, honestly, he can’t be that good at it.”

You hummed. “I thought someone was hurt when I first heard them go at it. She sounds so…”

“Scary,” Geto-mama finished for you. 

“Right!?” A full-body shudder went through you. “I didn’t know people could sound like that.”

She sighed and shook her head, choosing to move the topic over a few notches in a safer direction. “Well, aside from all that, how are you enjoying the wedding, sweet girl?”

“Unexpectedly fun,” you said. “I’ve only been to two other weddings in the past, and they were boring to the point of pain. Nothing to do, y’know? I wasn’t anticipating this one would be a borderline festival.”

“Everyone works together to make weddings memorable around here. We’re all one big family, in a sense. Their joy is our joy,” her lips pulled up into a motherly sort of fondness, directed at you. “You’ll see when it’s your turn, baby girl. I’m glad you came, I was worried you’d be overwhelmed. You’re always welcome, you know?”

You didn’t want to disappoint Yoriko by telling her you wouldn’t be getting your own turn. Instead, you looped your arms around her waist and squeezed. “Thank you, Geto-mama. I’m happy I got to see you today!”

She patted your head. “Likewise, sweetheart. Now, off you go! I’m sure the boys are missing you, I’ve kept you long enough.”

Releasing her, you stepped back, beaming at her. “It was good to see you! We’ll talk more soon?”

“Absolutely!” She agreed and made shooing motions with her hands. “Go, go. Don’t keep them waiting!”

Taking her advice, you faced the party and sought them out. They weren’t where you last left them, likely having moved around to mingle and share in the merriment. You stood up on your toes, searching for either ivory or obsidian tresses.

It didn’t take you long.

Finding them wasn’t hard, not when they towered above everyone else with ease, and not when the people parted between you and them like the Red Sea. In spite of how many were gathered for the event, and the fact that the day wasn’t even about them, they monopolized all the attention without effort.

Of course, they would.

They were picture perfect – handsome, strong, alluring. They were the cream of the crop, even when they weren’t trying, and would be in any place they went to, not just within this small place you’d chosen to settle down in.

Something cold settled at the base of your esophagus as you processed what you saw.

You wished you hadn’t seen them. 

You wished they were hidden so that you’d have to push through a crowd to find them. Maybe then, you would have been too close to realize. If that were the case, you would have had a chance to stop what was unraveling in slow motion before you.

They were surrounded by a group of girls – beautiful girls – each one fluttering their thick lashes and puckering their merlot-painted lips. You could hear their obnoxious, high-pitched giggles from clear across the field, over the music and yammering and the droning spring air. One grabbed onto Suguru’s arm, hugging it so tightly between her bust, you thought she might cut off the circulation in his fingers between her tits.

Instead of pulling away, he tipped his head down and said something you couldn’t decipher from attempting to read his lips alone at this distance, to which she laughed.

Something uncomfortably tight formed in your chest, a twist centered beneath your breastbone. It pinched, stung; a poisoned needle shooting straight into your stomach.

Paper lanterns.

A knife had wedged itself between your innards too snuggly, the exact same temperature as the rest of your body, the only proof of its existence being the displacing sensation of your intestines and the spreading chill that zapped under your skin like instant ice. The pit in your belly dropped to your heels, heavy as a sack of sand.

Your fingertips trembled, frozen over and stiff and numb, regardless of the warmth that they contained mere moments ago.

You felt sick, and you didn’t understand why.

It came on so suddenly that you never would have been able to avoid it, even if you knew it was coming. The rotting sensation burrowed itself deep into your gut, impossibly dense and suffocating. Its hands crawled up your insides, wiggling between your ribs and lungs to wrap spindly fingers around your throat.

Satoru winked at the lady in front of him.

Those fingers squeezed.

You got the inkling that they didn’t want you to be their date for the sake of, well, being their date. For the sake of laughing, dancing, eating, and drinking together. For being with each other, with your friends, cherishing the evening by toasting and clinking glasses and sharing stories. For meaning something to one another.

It was for the sake of keeping annoyances off their backs.

The women only flocked to them as soon as you left for a few minutes. Together, the three of you were unapproachable, and you were unbothered by the vile, envious glares pinned on you. Hell, you found it funny.

Now that you were gone, their shield had been removed.

This wasn’t about you and them, it never was. It was only about them.

In a trio, there’s always a duo.

It was your fault for getting greedy, for deluding yourself into believing you were more to them than a barrier. You had nobody to blame but yourself for the clawing sensation creeping up the column of your gullet that forced saliva to flood your mouth, lest its acid slip out.

Respiring felt so difficult, like trying to inhale through a straw, each gasp shallow and dizzying.

You siphoned a thick breath in, a quivering thing, and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea coated your insides, choking you, sitting on your epiglottis.

Disgust curled in your gut as the girl attached to Suguru’s arm leapt up from her tip-toes and planted a kiss on his cheek – one that left a stain in bright red in the shape of her lips, vaguely love-shaped. 

She marked him. 

She marked Suguru, who hated the feeling of anything sticking to his skin. Suguru, who hated having his personal space invaded. Suguru, who hated excessive affection.

Suguru, whose lips curled upwards.

Suguru, who gave the peppy girl that smile, the one you adored so much, the one that always lifted your spirits and made you feel safe and seen.

The one you thought he only gave you.

Suguru, who shattered your heart.

Tether.

Something in you fissured, then simply broke. The stilts holding you up hewed, sending you careening towards the ground with no way to catch yourself.

The winds died, the gales gave your fragile wooden frame one last, harsh clap, and you were falling.

Kite.

You couldn’t stand the suffocation anymore, couldn’t stand to see them be so inviting and enticing to everyone. You feared you’d throw up if you stayed any longer. What you had already seen was soldered to your consciousness, engraved behind your eyes so that every time you closed them, you saw Satoru and Suguru, basking in affection. 

Forgetting you.

Nobody noticed you walking towards the edge of the plain, where you had left your sandals in favor of enjoying the soft grass under your soles while you pranced. Your sandals were in the same spot you left them, amidst the ocean of others.

For some reason, they were abnormally strenuous to put on. Your fingers vibrated viciously, frustrating you as you shoved your feet into them and tried to slip the ends of the straps through the buckles. 

You cursed under your breath, struggling, fighting. Once you finally managed, you pulled them hard, clearly over tightening them. You didn’t care. You just wanted to leave. To go far, far, far away.

The second you were certain they wouldn’t fall off, you stepped onto the road and turned towards the direction of home. 

Your home, where you’d be alone.

You ignored the sharp pain of the cords digging and cutting into your Achilles tendons, too caught up in the hurricane of your emotions to pay attention to much else.

A tornado whirled through your skull, jumbling everything until you were left with a sensation of panic thrumming beneath your skin, scratching from the inside out. Words were thrown, lost, confused, but one thought shined clear as day.

Run.

The streets seemed so much darker. It had to have been your imagination, seeing as you were leaving the massive gathering, where life and light was. It only exacerbated your anxiety, urging you to run faster, break out into a sprint, leave everything behind.

The voice was back, the one that crowed and trilled and spewed acrid threats into your ear. The one that whispered how worthless you were, how you weren’t wanted, how you had to turn tail and vanish ayond eyesight. You’d overstayed your welcome.

You didn’t understand what you were feeling. Anger? Betrayal? Hurt? Fear? Plain old sadness?

You didn't know what, and you didn't know why. All you knew was that you hated it.

You had no reason to feel this way, and would not be vindicated for doing so. Why had it mattered to you to see them flirting with others? Who were they to you? 

Your friends, obviously. That’s all they could be.

If that was the case, who were you to them?

…Were you their friend?

You didn't want to think about it. It made the strained clamps around your lungs constrict further, you couldn’t afford it.

The shift between asphalt and packed dirt went unregistered by you, all sensation to the physical world lost. Goosebumps raised along your arms, prickling, yet you didn’t sense it. Not the way you clawed at your forearm for a sense of stability, searching for anything to ground you.

A year.

You lasted a year.

A new record to be proud of, throwing the last one out of the water by a landslide. You hadn’t stayed in one location for nearly as long as this since you were a child.

You should have been bragging to yourself, parading with the knowledge that you might have been getting better after all this time.

All you wanted to do was die.

You hugged yourself, staving off the cold by reflex more than conscious action. The houses had become further spaced out, the sidelines blurred. Your body was moving on autopilot, unseeing as muscle memory took you the rest of the way home.

What were you doing? Thinking? You should have known this would happen. You did know, but chose to ignore it, and for what? You played yourself by getting attached when you were aware from the beginning that it would all come to an end sooner or later. You got greedy, took more than you were allowed, selfishly ripped a mile from your mind when you were offered less than an inch. 

This was your fault. You were the cause of this. You became complacent. You stopped walking when you should have just kept going. 

“Idiot, idiot, idiot, you goddamn, stupid bitch!” You whisper-shouted at yourself as you dug the spare key out from under the doormat and jammed it into the lock of your door, unaware of the exact timing of your arrival. The door fought against you, further enraging you.

Your feet ached, skin sore and wounded, yet it felt like nothing in comparison to the gnawing in your stomach. Your body was on fire, begging for reprieve, anything to lift the pain and mend the hurt.

You shoved open the door and angrily stomped inside, slamming a palm against the wall on your left.

Barely two steps into your home and you had all but ripped off your sandals with enough force to damage the straps. The relief of pressure off your ankles only served to aggravate the reddened and tender flesh affected by your apathy towards yourself. Exposed to air, your heels throbbed. You tried to let it anchor you, but it didn’t work.

Wrathfully moving forward, you grabbed the bottom hem of your dress and tugged it over your head and off yourself harshly. Your arm wound up to throw it, but your body seized, a shock zapping through your nervous system.

 Even in distress, with your mind anywhere but a state of clarity, you still couldn’t bring yourself to disrespect something given to you.

Something they gave you.

Your hands trembled as you laid it across the back of the couch, plucked the corsages from your wrists to place on the coffee table, and you used your pent up energy on your poor bra instead. You unclasped the sucker and catapulted it somewhere with all the force you could muster, and chased it down with a long-suffering scream that tore up your throat.

How fortunate you were to live where nobody could hear you retch and sob.

Every nerve in your body felt like a spring, pressed down, ready to burst. All under your skin, live wire writhed, raring to shred through measly flesh and bone. At this point, you just wanted it to be over with. You’d let them leer and scorn as they seared through your senses agonizingly, then shut off your feelings altogether, so long as it put you out of your misery. 

The tightness in your muscles made you shake and wheeze, pain jolting from the center of your chest, down your limbs, stinging in the tips of your fingers. Doing anything was a struggle in this state.

You hated what adrenaline did to you. 

You hated yourself.

Gritting your teeth and resisting the urge to claw your way into your own stomach, you channeled that energy into rushing down the hall to your bedroom.

That poor door didn’t deserve to have your anger taken out on it, but you couldn’t find a shit or two to give. Not now, not when everything around you was collapsing. Skyscraper zeniths were crumbling, towering concrete monstrosities aiming to crush you.

And, hell, you’d let them.

Your dresser earned itself a beastly growl from you when you opened it too harshly, causing it to close back up. You wanted to tear everything apart, to rake your nails through wood and stone and bone and dig until your nails were broken and dirt was caked deep into your dermis. Surely, then, the pain would go away.

Clothing rustled violently, short of enough friction to start a fire by a millimeter. You scavenged, unsure of what you were searching for until your fingers closed around the texture your brain subconsciously required to calm itself.

You pulled out the t-shirt, and stalled.

It was the one Suguru gave you. Rather, the one you ‘stole’ with his blessing, but his regardless.

The black material was soft in your grasp, worn and well-loved, a few sizes too big for you. There was a faded band logo on the front of it, colors now grayscale after years of appreciation.

Your hands visibly trembled as you loosened the unfair death grip you had on the top. It didn’t deserve your indignation, your pain. It didn’t deserve to have its fibers pulled too far, to have its devotion to being a quality material shorn from it. It was a shirt, after all, not the source of your suffering. 

Its previous owner was; that didn’t shift the blame to the cloth. 

But, it reminded you of him.

It reminded you of what you saw at the park, the helplessness that came with having your world crumble before you even knew you were living in it, the hopelessness that came with knowing you’d never be able to rebuild it.

It reminded you of the chai he made, of the way he’d coat your clean hair with leave-in conditioner to smooth down the frizz and encourage silkiness.

The way he’d hold your hands in winter to keep out the burn of frost, the way he’d let you lean against him as he read, the way his long fingers would diligently trace the sketched pattern of your wall, painting life into it. 

It reminded you of what it meant to be happy.

Your teeth clicked together, jaw jittery. You clenched it, muscles jumping in your neck.

It didn't help.

The shirt moved around in your palms, peeled open to allow it to slip onto your bare self, covering the short hairs that sprung up from the chill of being naked.

A shaky breath filled your lungs, and you pressed the heel of your hand against your sternum. Your heart thudded and wept so loudly, so angrily, so painfully. You could feel it all the way through to your elbow, hear it beat against your eardrums, taste its toxic copper on the back of your tongue.

Most of your mind had shut down to a lowered percentage of function that made everything fuzzy. You were missing time. How long you stood in your room, doing nothing, you didn’t know. You weren’t aware you had gone to the bathroom until you were partially through cleaning off all the hard work you’d put into prettying yourself up.

You stopped, staring at yourself in the reflection of your mirror.

You looked…tired. Felt it, too. 

You looked like you were hanging on by your fingers, losing trust in your strength. 

It was so tempting to let go.

Choosing not to waste more energy than necessary on it, you finished what you started, washing away the color and vitality from your face. Bit by bit, you lost more of who you were, and gained more of who you used to be. 

Ordinary. Unmemorable. Broken.

Beneath the façade existed the truth you’d tried to cover, to pretend didn’t exist. For months, you’d succeeded in this endeavor, in playing the part of normal. It was catching up to you, and you were out of breath, exhausted, and empty.

You couldn’t avoid it any longer.

Prying your lids apart, you peered at the bottom of the mirror, meeting the unwavering, morbidly curious stare of a young girl.

You looked like her, a little. Same eyes, same curve to your upper lip, same hair color. You were older, familiar and not at the same time. Your eyes were sunken, cheeks hollow. Physically present, but not entirely there. Eyes glazed with a thousand-yard vacancy.

She peered back at you, doe-eyed with innocence and yet-to-be-abandoned faith. Her head fell to the side, little hands holding the edge of the sink to see better. Silently, she tried to pick you apart, to figure out who you were, why you shared a face, but looked so dead in comparison.

What did she see, you contemplated. Did she see hope for the future, the reassurance that she’d grow up, have her own home, be safe from the clutches of a man unloving? That it’d all be okay one day? 

Or, did you break her dreams down with the reality that it never would, all without saying a word to one another?

If you could speak to her, what would you say? Would you sit her down, hold her hands, and tell her to give up while she was still ahead? Would you be brutal in your honesty, crush her with the fact that entropy was hovering by the corner, waiting to pounce on her the moment she let down her guard? Would you sit and watch as her confusion morphed into fear, then sadness, then acceptance, all without ever once showing sympathy?

Or, would you lie to her, as your mother had? Would you run your fingers through her hair listlessly, promising her a world that would never be hers? Would you promise her the Sun and Moon, knowing they’d never belong to her?

All those options, yet you stayed mute. You didn’t have anything nice to say to her, so you said nothing.

She opened her mouth, but closed it again, choosing better of it. Hopping off the stool she stood on, she moved away from the mirror and exited the bathroom, and you were seeing yourself again, as you were at present.

There wasn’t much worth examining. Exhaustion and weariness, that’s all there was.

You padded out of the room and to the kitchen, opening a cupboard and standing on your toes. Mugs lined the bottom shelf, but they all went ignored in favor of a specific one.

Your fingers closed around the handle of the ceramic you wanted, taking it from its storage. The surface was smooth to the touch, fired to a glossy sheen that protected its shape and paint.

There was a reason you wanted this one in particular – Satoru had given it to you.

He’d made it himself. He didn’t tell you how, or when he’d done that. You brought into question whether he did make it, or if he was only claiming that to impress you, as it was too well-made to have been created by a novice. Your doubts were dispelled when he had you flip it over and graze your thumb over his signature. It was stamped into the material, indented into clay before being placed in a kiln.

On closer inspection, there were imperfections in it. Bumps, ridges, the hallmarks of something created with his own two hands. Of course, you treasured it. Nobody had given you a gift like it before, and the fact that it came from Satoru only served to further your adoration of it.

You dropped a tea bag and two sugar cubes into it, waiting for the water in your kettle to boil.

The house was dark, all lights extinguished save for the stove overhead and a lamp in the living room. More would only cause you further undue pain. You weren’t sure if you could handle any more, it risked crumbling you completely.

Alertness was returning to you in pieces. You were more aware of your environment and what you were doing, the trade off being completely zoning out in bursts.

The kettle whistled, and you turned it off, pouring the liquid into your mug. Amber leaked out of the tea bag, seeping into the surrounding clearness. Steam rose up, smelling of chamomile and lavender. A suggestion from Suguru.

He was everywhere. Satoru was everywhere. Even in your own home, you couldn’t escape them.

Realization hit you like a train rolling down a hill at full speed, crashing directly into your fragile self with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

A teardrop, leaden and blisteringly hot, rolled over your cheek. It carved a new track for itself over your dry skin, beading downwards, following the curve of your jaw, eventually dripping off your chin after accumulating enough weight. A small ripple formed in your ignored tea, inconsequential and so, so powerful. It stirred the seas, warning of rainfall.

“You’re in love, idiot,” you whispered to yourself. 

The physical realm dissipated from your perception, replaced by visions of them. The two dorks that somehow found a way into your heart, who convinced you to stay without saying a word. The days you spent together under the sun, dipping into the river, watching movies and eating popcorn. The endless amount of time they spent helping you build yourself a home, picking out paint colors and floor styles and furniture, aiding you in constructing something that was yours.

Everything around you was because of them. The Sun and Moon you were promised, dominating the skies everywhere across the world. They swallowed the world, they were everywhere you looked, at least one of them visible at all times.

Of course you loved them, who wouldn’t? They were perfect.

They breathed, and the planet breathed with them. Flowers bloomed for their sakes, the oceans’ tides bent to their wills, the stars reveled on the tracks they created as the solar system they ruled hurtled through space. It was only inevitable you’d fall for them the same way everyone else had.

You tried to laugh, but the noise that came out was more akin to a wounded animal than a girl having a grand revelation about herself.

Where had you gone wrong?

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Suguru grimaced at the uncomfortable sensation of lipstick residue on his cheek, immediately grabbing a nearby napkin to wipe it off as soon as the girl who left it there pivoted to smack the arm of the girl beside her. The smile he gave her was so tight-lipped and strained, he was worried he'd pop a blood vessel.

He couldn't stand the feeling of any sort of lingering texture on his skin. It made him hyper aware of the spot and caused his flesh to crawl uncomfortably. What happened to personal space? Decorum?

Basic respect for one’s autonomy? Not invading someone’s territory to toe the line of assault?

He got groped more times than he cared to count, and though he smirked and pretended to indulge the hive of bees trying to roast them alive, he was disgusted. He felt nauseous and filthy, the air stifling and sour. How much more of this would he have to endure?

“I miss our mochi,” Satoru lamented to him, not doing all that better. “What’s taking her so long?”

He scanned the field for any sign of you. You weren’t hard to spot, and you said you’d be back soon, yet it had now been…

Suguru glanced down at his watch, a frown marring his expression. Twenty minutes had passed since they last saw you. That was much longer than what he would have liked. Five minutes would have already been pushing it, but twenty? Just how distracting were these girls that the pair lost sight of you for twenty torturous minutes?

“Do you think she’s okay?” He asked the man beside him. “She’s been gone a while.”

 Blue eyes narrowed as he, too, began searching the sea of heads to try and spot your hair, or the sparkle of the dress they had given you. Nothing, nada, zip. His jaw clenched, anxiety beginning to spawn beneath his lungs. 

He faked a smile to address the annoying group still hounding them, pushing his way out. Though he usually loved the attention, it was insufferable to him now. “Sorry, ladies, I need to do something real quick.”

“Aww, Satoru-san, come back!” One whined, giving him an exaggerated pout.

“I’ll be just a minute,” he responded automatically, already having pointed his attention elsewhere. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed your number as he walked further away to distance himself from the excessive volume of the party.

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

His head twisted in the direction of a familiar ringtone.

Three times.

By the chair you had been sitting at earlier that evening, eating with everyone at your table, your purse sat unattended.

Four times.

He stalked towards it and crouched down, mentally apologizing to you for digging through your stuff.

Five times.

He pulled out your phone, seeing his own contact displayed on the screen. You never changed it, still the same as the day he created it. ✨❤️Satoru❤️✨ flashed on the LCD, mocking him.

‘Hey, sorry I missed your call. Feel free to try again later if I don’t call you back first. Thanks.’

Voicemail.

He pulled his own phone away from his ear and stood slowly, glancing over towards the line of shoes not far from him. Yours were missing.

“Shit.” 

He stuffed your phone back into your purse and looped it onto his wrist as he hurriedly made his way back to Suguru, who initially looked relieved upon seeing Satoru’s return, only for that rigid façade of his to disappear instantly.

“What is it–”

“She left,” Gojo interrupted.

Geto’s expression darkened. “She left? Are you sure?”

“Her sandals are gone. Her purse and phone are still here, I can’t reach her.��

“Fuck,” Suguru muttered, pushing his way out from the burning honeybee group, breaking from their restraints. The cries and plaints of the swooning girls had filtered into the background to the two boys. “Where do you think she went?”

The pale-haired man led the other out towards the edge of the clearing. “Dunno. Fuck, we should have been with her. What if something happened to her?”

“Let’s not jump to the worst case, Satoru. Where’d you last see her?”

He scraped through his memory, trying to recall. It was too noisy, whirring filling his mind. The last time he could remember seeing you was when…

His body spun, and he marched over to the two other people he could think to ask.

“Utahime, Shoko.”

Utahime glanced around, her expression souring upon seeing Satoru. “Ugh, it's you. What do you want?”

“Have you seen her?”

She raised a brow. “Seen who? Need a name or something.”

He said your name, and the sass in her withered away. Her distaste twisted into worry as she realized he was being dead serious. “Wait, she's not with you guys?”

“You lost her?” Shoko asked incredulously, aware of the endearment the boys felt towards you.

“That's why we're here,” Suguru said.

Her fingers pinched her chin in consideration, concern etched in her browline. “Isn’t she with Yoriko-san? That’s where I last saw her.”

The nox-haired man searched about, spotting his mother as she gossiped with her other mom-friends. “Mom!”

Unperturbed the sound level, the woman’s head snapped up, always aware of when her child called for her. She speed walked towards them, brows knitting in worry as she grabbed his hands. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Have you seen angel?” His doting name for you slipped through in his stress.

If she noticed, she was kind enough to not point it out, recognizing the severity in his tone. She frowned. “She told me she’d go look for you boys after we chatted. She could have gotten lost? There’s many people here, after all.”

Satoru shook his head and lifted your items for emphasis. “Her sandals are gone, but her purse and phone are still here.”

Yoriko took a good, long, hard look at both boys. She saw something in their faces they didn’t know, and her shoulders slumped a few inches. Her grim expression changed into a different mien – remorse? Shame?

“I bet you’ll find her at her house,” she stated, releasing Suguru’s hands.

Suguru and Satoru matched one another, disappointment and distress burrowing in their guts. You really had left? Why?

“Her house?” Satoru mumbled. “Why?”

The older woman crossed her arms over her chest. “Normally, I’d discourage men from seeking out women when they want to be alone, but I’m making an exception for this case.”

“Alone? Do you know what happened?” Shoko probed.

Yoriko hummed noncommittally. “She probably saw something she didn’t want to see.”

“Saw something? What? What’d she see?” Satoru was becoming frenetic.

She shook her head. “That’s not for me to say. Go talk to her, boys.”

That was all the encouragement – or, rather, ordering – the two needed. They hardly spared a word to the others as they darted off, marking your house as their destination.

Questions swirled in their minds, individual and linked all at once. Why had you left? What had you seen? What the hell was Yoriko talking about, and why in the world was she so damn vague about it? She clearly knew more than they did, the least she could have done was clue them in on it.

They didn’t speak to each other, both busy in their own heads as they raced to your place, hoping and praying they’d find you there. 

The streets were too dark for Satoru’s liking this removed from town, the road illuminated by the sorrowful moon hanging above. The idea of you walking alone unnerved him, set him on edge. You could have gotten hurt, or worse, or – oh, god, what if something bad happened to you? You’d been alone this whole time, and they didn’t know. Where did you go? What were you thinking?

Geto was known to be the calmer of the two. Steady, logical, rational.

He was beyond ration right now. He alternated between wanting – needing – to take you into his arms and never let go, to assure himself that you were okay, alive, there, and wanting to reprimand you for your behavior. You should have let them know, told them you were done and wanted to go home. They would have walked you, protected you, taken care of you.

He milled his teeth to control himself. He couldn’t assume, he didn’t know what caused you to leave. Hell, maybe you hadn’t gone at all, and you all merely missed each other at the party?

Suguru was the first one to make it to your door, knuckles rapping against the wood.

Satoru was panting behind him, alternating his weight between his feet, ready to book it back to the park if he had to. 

There was silence on the other end, then, very faintly, they heard rustling.

Movement from inside, confirming you were here. Now, to answer the remaining questions.

They were prepared to interrogate you, but all those words died on the backs of their tongues, tasting of ash and soot, when the door peeled open.

Oh.

Red rimmed your eyes, your cheeks still damp after you tried to hastily wipe them dry, your brows wound tightly together. Confusion flickered across your features first, tailed by embarrassment.

Something did happen to you.

You had been crying.

“Angel?” Suguru stepped forth and cupped your jaw gently, thumbing away at your tearstained skin. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Instead of leaning into his touch like you so yearned to, you forced yourself to pull back, giving a painfully fake laugh. Your voice was fraught, a little raspy, wet. “Nothing happened. Everything is fine, why do you think something happened?”

“You’re bad at lying, mochi,” Satoru refused to let you dodge the topic. “What happened? Who do we need to beat up for making you cry?”

“Gu-uys,” you hiccuped and tried to turn away further, to recede deeper into your house. “Seriously, I’m fine–”

“You’re not fine,” Suguru grasped your upper arm and pulled you towards him. “What happened?”

Your eyes flickered between his, then Satoru’s, words stuck to your palate. How easy it would be to say I wish you’d look at me and not those girls.

I want you.

I need you.

How easy it would be to just spill your heart and soul out onto the floor, say the things you wanted to tell them, but knew you couldn’t.

I love you. Both of you.

If you told them, you'd ruin everything. And then you'd have to run.

Again.

All you knew was how to run.

You didn't know how far you would make it if you lost everything you had created, grown, and made here, with them.

You squeezed your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms to brace yourself. Focus on the pain. “I just don’t…really know anyone from the party. Not personally, anyway, so…I didn’t wanna be the odd duck out, you know?” Lie. A terrible lie, and everyone present knew it. You pushed on regardless. “Haha…would be kinda weird for the new girl to hang out at this wedding when nobody knows her. I-I was feeling a bit tired, too.”

You were aware that you were rambling, but you couldn’t stop it naturally. You opened your mouth, and it was hard to close it again.

You'd been living here for a year. It was a poor cover up at best. While it was true you didn’t know a good amount of folks on a level further than acquaintances, it's not like you were a complete stranger to these backwoods. And there were people you knew well enough to consider friends besides Gojo and Geto.

 Satoru’s frown grew, but he decided against pointing out your fallacy. “But, we know you, mochi. Why didn’t you come back to us? We were waiting for you.”

“Oh,” you broke eye contact, peering elsewhere, anywhere but them. Your fingers trembled as you tucked your hair behind your ear, trying to shove out the discomfort in your chest at the reminder. The scene played in your mind all over again, of the boys talking to those girls, smiling at them, laughing with them.

You had to make yourself believe it was something else causing your ribs to cave in on your lungs.

It wasn’t jealousy. Really, it wasn’t.

But…if it wasn’t jealousy, then why did you feel sick to your stomach when you witnessed one of the girls, who was prettier than you, grasp Satoru’s collar and pull him down to whisper things in his ear? Why did he smile like that afterwards? Like he liked what he heard? Like he liked her? What did she say? Why–

You swallowed thickly, the sensation dry as it scratched down your gullet like nails on sandpaper. Your throat was too crammed, too tense, too itchy. It took all your strength to speak normally, and even then, you weren’t sure you succeeded.

“You guys were busy,” you finally replied.

“Busy?” Suguru repeated, his inflection powder soft, his eyes softer.

Don’t, you pleaded silently. Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t stare at me like that.

If you knew what that does to me.

If you knew what you both do to me.

You nodded and plastered on a faux simper, one that twitched at the corners of your lips and didn’t reach your eyes. “You had a whole flock of girls around you. Who am I t-to take the attention of the two most eligible bachelors away from them?”

Damn you for stuttering, and damn your voice for growing uneven, and damn you for being a mess. Weak, pitiful. Since when were you so mellow, such a pussy?

The boys had the audacity to let their faces morph to show their confusion, as if trying to recollect what you were talking about.

Suguru was the first to piece together what happened, if the way his eyes widened minutely was anything to go by, but Satoru spoke before he could. And more bluntly, too, of course. “Oh, sweetie,” he hushed, tension dropping from him as a grin drew up his mouth. “You’re jealous.”

You startled and lifted your hands to deny his accusation. “N-No! What? Haha, th-that’s– no, it’s not like th-at at all!”

He put on a smug mien as he crossed his arms over his chest, acting like he just figured you out.

He did, technically, but you didn’t want to give him that victory. Especially not over such a benign and childish matter as this.

“Angel,” the noiret allayed himself, delicately cupping your cheek to nudge your head in his direction. “Is that what’s going on? Were you jealous of those girls?”

Your jaw flexed. God, it sounded pathetic. Jealous over a group of gorgeous women who had more to offer than you? It’s not like either boy was interested in you romantically anyway, and you weren’t dating one or the other. You had no reason to be jealous, you weren’t owed anything. 

It wasn’t fair for you to expose such petty problems to them, let alone blame them for it. They may have had your heart, but you didn’t have theirs. 

Yet, your lip wobbled, your lungs refused to work properly, and your eyes welled up, anyway. Biting the inside of your cheek raw wasn’t fending off your emotions, not anymore, and you couldn’t dislodge the frog from your throat long enough to talk.

The worry in Suguru’s expression melted away, replaced with understanding and something else you couldn’t decipher. His fingers shifted from holding your cheek to curling over the back of your neck while his other hand coiled around your waist, bringing you close to him. His forehead pressed against yours and his breath fanned across your cheeks, slow and measured.

“You have nothing to be jealous about,” he reassured you with a sympathetic murmur. 

The tears fell before you had a chance to stop them. It could have been the wine you drank earlier, or the overstimulation from the party.

Or, it was the way they held the glass fledgling budding in the nest of your soul carefully in their hands. They had cracked the shell casing it had, the one that protected you from making attachments. They pushed the gates wide for everyone, all the close friends you made in this village sneaking into your life without you noticing, and the boys were at the front, leading the pack.

“I’m s-so-sorry,” you stammered out, sucking uneven gasps of air past your bottom lip. Your arms wound tightly around his neck and you buried your face against his shoulder, muffling your sniffling. “It’s– it’s stupid, so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, angel. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he comforted you, rubbing your back in easy circles.

Satoru came to your side, sweeping your hair away from your neck. “You really don’t need to be jealous. We’re not interested in any of them.��

“We don’t want any of those girls,” Suguru’s deep voice rumbled against your chest. “We want you.”

Your heart stopped, broke, started, and sprouted new petals at his confession. It bounced in your head, struggling to stick, to process, to be true.

“B-But they’re–” sob, “s-so…much more. They’d do– do any-thing f-for you – hic! – you.”

“And you?” Suguru checked, his voice barely a whisper as it brushed against your neck. “Would you do anything for us?”

His question stunned you. You froze, your thoughts hovering, struggling to focus when they both were close and warm. Your head lifted slowly, eyesight blurry as your gaze flickered between them.

The Sun and Moon incarnate. 

What a stupid question.

You worshiped them and the ground they walked on, a devout and zealous follower. You’d listen to everything they told you with reverence; you'd pray for them day and night, you’d water the soil with your own blood if they asked.

“...Yes,” you breathed out, finding balance while adrift at sea, a moment of peace in the cyclone of your emotions. “Anything.”

Satoru huffed near your ear and you could feel the curve of his smile where he pressed it into your jaw. “The difference between you and those girls, mochi…”

“Is that, for you, we'd scorch the earth and rend the sky without hesitation, should you ever wish it,” raven hair tickled your shoulder, plush lips hovering on the slope of your neck, brushing over your vulnerable, sensitive pulse.

“For those girls, we would do nothing. Even if they begged on their knees, we'll only ever accept your commands,” ocean-kissed eyes filled your vision, shimmering with raw, unfiltered emotion; something warm, and blazing, calling you like a moth to blue flame.

You shuddered at the vibration from Suguru’s murmurs traveling through your body. “All you have to do is say yes.”

Laying somewhere within the turmoil in your chest, your soul fluttered, yearning, hoping. “You want me?”

“We do,” they replied simultaneously.

“Both of you?”

“Both of us.”

Their resolute answer felt so unreal, so deafening in the fog of your scattered thoughts. Your fingers reached, but hesitated just before they made contact with what you so desired – as if waiting for it to be ripped away. “...Really?” 

“Really,” the man holding you in his grasp confirmed, admiring you with such fondness and devotion, you’d think he was seeing a goddess, rather than the simple girl you were. He was pleading more than demanding. “Say yes.”

“Please, princess,” Satoru acted equally as desperate, and it struck you that you’d never heard him say please before, not like this.

You didn’t have to think before you answered.

“Yes.”

Suguru’s lips were on yours as the syllables were leaving you, drawing a surprised squeak from you, followed by a reedy whimper.

There was a distinct snap in your chest, the click of an unbreakable bond emerging. It made your breath hitch and your body tense up, then you melted into him, and everything felt right.

His lips were cushiony and generous, everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. They fit so perfectly against yours, the sides of two puzzle pieces slotting into place. His kiss was gentle, slow, and intimate. 

You barely had a chance to delve into it by the time the other boy was tugging you away for his turn.

He was more demanding, rougher, yet entirely wonderful all the same, just like Geto. He connected to you seamlessly, aggressively, contrary to Suguru's tenderness, in a way that had your toes curling and heat pooling in the depths of your gut.

This.

This is what you had been missing all your life.

The safety and sanctity that came with surrendering to a love pure and true. 

Hands were on you, everywhere, at all once. You didn’t know which belonged to who; it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered save for the way they caressed you and explored everything, leaving no inch untouched.

Calloused palms slid under the hem of your – Suguru’s – shirt, palming at naked flesh, taking what was no longer yours, but theirs.

Satoru bit at your bottom lip, hard enough to sting, but not enough to break skin, in spite of how you wanted him to. His hunger was obvious, his inability to sate himself with the taste of your mouth alone showing in the way he suckled on your tongue and ventured behind your teeth. The sentiment was mutual. You drank him in with the same fervor, needing more to settle the hollow in your stomach.

A hint of the cake shared at the wedding lingered on him, sweet and rich and exactly like the boy you’d come to love.

Love.

You loved him. You loved Suguru.

And they…they loved you, too, didn’t they?

The way Geto dug his canines into your collarbone and soothed the pricks with chaste kisses, the way Gojo moaned into your kiss like you were his oasis after years of thirst; the way the second gripped his hips with his nails, and the way the first traced the undersides of your breasts with his thumbs, all these actions led you to believe that, yes, they loved you. Beyond words, beyond what could be said and shown.

You were growing dizzy, heady with lust and the lack of air. Satoru must have noticed, as he pulled away a few centimeters, breathing each other’s air. 

“What do you want, pretty girl?” He asked.

“Touch me,” you pleaded with them breathlessly.

“Shit,” Suguru groaned into the delicate flesh of your shoulder. “You can't just say something like that while wearing my shirt.”

Any quip you might have had was swiftly replaced with a squeal of surprise when Satoru hoisted you up over his shoulder casually, not breaking so much as a sweat from the effort.

“Satoru!” You squeaked, smacking his back. “I can walk, you know!”

“I can’t wait any longer,” he justified as he kicked off his shoes haphazardly and carried you off to your room.

You were tossed unceremoniously onto your bed, bouncing a couple times as you propped yourself on your elbows. From your spot on your sheets, you had the perfect view of Satoru tugging at the bow on his collar to untie it. He let the ends hang loose in favor of ardently shedding his jacket.

Suguru wasn’t far behind, and in the darkness of your room, their eyes seemed to glow dangerously. 

Laser focused on you, you were trapped in their spell, and you’d never wish to break free.

Geto stalked up to you, steps deliberate and resolute, a leopard locked in on its prey. He came to a stop at the edge of your bed, planting his hands on either side of your hips. Starvation ate at the amber of his hues, black holes leaving a ring of gold between the photon spheres and event horizons.

You batted your lashes flirtatiously. “You’ll be gentle with me, won’t you?”

You sounded less coquettish than you would have liked, dyspneic and blistering hot with appetency and anticipation.

He chuckled, gruff and strained. “After all this time, I finally get to have you, and you think I’m going to be gentle with you?”

“Oh, you’re in for it now, princess,” Gojo breathed against your ear, startling you. You hadn’t noticed when he’d gotten behind you, his body heat radiating onto you. “Kept us waiting, made us chase you, there’s no way in hell we’ll be gentle with you.”

“Kept you waiting?” Confusion flashed across your face.

He huffed. “And here I thought I was dense as hell.”

You scowled at him. “Hey! What is that supposed to mean?”

Suguru grasped your chin between his thumb and the curve of his index, fixing your sights on him. “We thought you were being coy at first. Then, after you didn’t pick up on our hints, we thought we were being too subtle,” he angled your head upwards, lips ghosting over your own. “Turns out, our sweet angel is a little oblivious, isn’t she?”

He didn’t give you the opportunity to defend yourself as he was kissing you deep and hard again, stealing your breath away all over again.

It’s not like he was wrong, but you had to counter his argument.

Except, oh, he tasted so good, and the way his palms skirted your sides erased your thoughts one by one. 

An unintentional whimper slipped past from your mouth and into Suguru’s as his hand slipped under your shirt – his shirt – and trailed up your side slowly. His skin scorched yours, burning so deliciously that it sent a shiver from the base of your spine up to your scalp, raising goosebumps across your arms and back.

You could feel him smirking as he kissed you, fervent fingers studying the dips and curves of your figure as they traveled up slowly, too slowly, towards where you wanted him to be. He seemed all too entertained by your reactions, the little noises you let out when he skimmed the underside of your breast, purposefully taking his time.

The moment he broke the kiss to catch a breath, barely parting, his lips still grazing yours, you keened and pleaded, not wholly sure what you were asking for. “Please, please…”

“Please, what? Use your words, mochi,” Satoru snickered, his mouth leaving a new patch of wet, saliva-slicked skin on your shoulder that rapidly cooled over the sensitive bruises blooming everywhere he planted them. ”What do you want, pretty girl?”

A whine was trapped behind your tongue as Suguru nipped at your lower lip, tugging gently, encouraging you to speak. “Fuck– fuck me, gods, please.”

“Good girl,” the ravenet grinned and immediately rewarded you by cupping your breast, pinching your nipple between his ring and middle fingers. He tweaked and plucked at it, drawing a gasp from you. “All you had to do was ask.”

Everything became a blur of flesh and clothes from there. Pants were shucked, buttons popped and scattered elsewhere from shirts ripped apart, fabric stripped from your figure until all three of you were naked in the presence of one another.

Moonlight poured into your room through your parted, sheer curtains, providing the perfect amount of illumination to see their Olypmian builds. Lean muscle molded them, impossibly strong and handsome. You understood how Satoru was able to lift you without an issue, now.

Suguru was marginally wider – shoulders broader, thighs thicker, but Satoru was the epitome of a god amongst men. Slender, athletic, ripped, mouthwatering.

You trailed down the path his Apollo’s belt created, appreciating the planes and hard ridges of his chest and stomach, the muscles of his hips, leading to…

Saliva flooded your mouth from the underside of your tongue, stinging as you took in the sight of his cock.

You debated if you were blessed or cursed, because there was no way in hell that thing was going to fit in you.

It stood tall and proud, just like its master. Swelled, curving upwards, the prettiest shade of rose that looked pale pink in the light the moon provided. A thick vein tracked from the base to the left side, and you had to forcefully swallow the spit in your mouth before you started legitimately drooling.

It was long, you were certain it’d knock the air from your lungs if he managed to get it in.

He was on you in seconds, crawling over you and biting into your shoulder to leave his crest. He sucked hard, making sure his claim would bloom into a noticeable flower for you to wear and show off. “You’re beautiful.”

His praise went straight to your drenched pussy, your walls tightening around nothing. 

The baritone of Suguru’s words filled the room, an instruction raised. “On the bed, Satoru.”

If you hadn’t seen it firsthand, you would have refused to believe there was ever a time Satoru would willingly follow someone else’s directions, let alone Suguru’s. In front of your eyes, he behaved, rolling off your body to splay himself out on his back, aquamarine orbs never once leaving your figure. 

The next directive was given to you. “Sit on his face, baby,” Suguru said, his inflection warning you to listen, daring you to defy him.

You, the obedient hare you were, followed his command without protest. You sat up next to Satoru, threw one leg over him, then slinked up to his face, where he laid and followed your every move, eyes of ice devoured by the impossibly dark lacunae in their centers.

You thought being over him would give you some level of control – how poorly mistaken were you.

As soon as your knees were on either side of his head, his arms wrapped around the backs of your thighs and he pulled you down faster than you could register his movements. He moved at lightning speed, wasting no time in shoving his tongue impatiently against your slicked folds and dragging it through.

His groan echoed your loud, unexpected moan, both of you wracked with sudden pleasure – him, at your taste, and you, at the addicting sensation of him lapping at your cunt like a man deprived of oxygen. Ironic, given the way he was all but begging for you to suffocate him, but you didn’t have the capacity to muse on it.

Electricity ricocheted up your spine, your synapses firing in overtime as he assaulted the hypersensitive nerves of your clit, sucking on it unforgivingly.

“S-Satoru!” You stammered out his name, one hand gripping the edge of your bed, the other tangling in his white, fluffy locks, tugging at his roots in a painful manner, no doubt. The devious keen he let out from the action told you he enjoyed it immensely, the muffled vibrations on your pussy making you clench around the tip of his tongue as it impatiently invaded your hole.

Suguru’s dusky, chocolate shades stayed glued to your form as you unraveled thread by thread from Satoru’s skilled tongue alone, his lips pulled into a dangerous smirk. “Open your mouth,” he rasped.

Your jaw dropped before he even finished his sentence.

You could see the unmitigated ardor flash in his pupils at your unquestioning submission, his cock twitching with the glee of knowing that he did this to you; that he and Gojo turned you into their brain dead beauty, eager and willing to please them however they wished.

His adoration for you was written plain across his face, mouth pouting at your adorableness. Oh, how he couldn’t wait to ruin you. He wanted to see tears glitter in your eyes from overwhelming euphoria, just so he could kiss them away and dote on you like it was the last night you’d all be alive.

Given the opportunity to inspect his manhood, you compared and contrasted it with Satoru’s. While Suguru’s was marginally shorter, it was thick, girthy, and ready to split you apart.

He perched the heavy peak of it on the pink muscle in your mouth that was dying for a sample, eager to guide it in and let it choke you half to death. 

“Suck.”

He didn’t need to tell you what to do – the moment his sex was there, you wrapped your kiss-bruised lips around his tip and moved your head to take more of him into your awaiting maw.

Your power over the sounds daring to leave you had left eons ago. You whined like a bitch in heat around his length, the mildly salty and musky flavor of his pre-cum driving you mad. His piquancy tickled some deep-seeded hunger in you, a drop of liquor better than any alcohol ever made. It worsened your thirst, spawning a sine qua non for his cum to quench your thirst.

His large hand threaded through your hair, smoothing down the stray strands as he cupped the back of your head with his palm. His hold was deceptively lenient and respectful, a guiding kneading that set the pace he wanted you to adopt.

“That’s it, good girl,” he said hoarsely, laboring to preserve his composure and not drive his hips to bury his oversized dick deep into your pharynx until he bottomed out, your nose pressed to his pelvis. Not now, not yet. First, he was going to enjoy your suckling and demure kitten licks. “Doing so well for us.”

His validation worsened your arousal, turning that pulsing, throbbing pressure into a borderline painful cramping.

Fuck, you were past salvation.

God help anyone who tried to save you, because you would not let them.

You yanked on Satoru’s hair harder, gripping at the roots for dear life, and grabbed Suguru’s thigh with your other hand. The muscles beneath jumped at the contact, and you groaned. The vibrations from your throat on his cock earned you a whispered grunt from him in turn. 

It didn’t seem true, you were still struggling to believe that you had one of them, let alone both.

Touching helped, solidifying the fact that they were there, with you, one eating you out like his life depended on it, while the second was putting your mouth to good use.

Tears sprung to your eyes as the head of his cock nudged deeper, but unlike before, these tears were of delight. You thrived on watching Suguru lose his sangfroid by the minute, sand slipping through his fingers that were going lax with disinterest in holding back. 

If you learned they had a telepathic connection with each other, you didn’t think you’d be shocked. In fluid, synchronized movements, Suguru cupped the base of your skull to thrust hilt-deep into your mouth, and Satoru stuffed two fingers into your dripping pussy, pushing you right up to the edge of blissful collapse. His digits were long, wide, bigger than yours and capable of reaching further, of petting a spot that had you choking and gagging on the branch stuck down your esophagus.

He nipped at your clit, teeth straying too close to danger, curled his fingers to attack your g-spot, and that’s all it took for you to burst.

Your orgasm ripped through you in waves, crashing on the beach of your consciousness, addicting as it drowned you in white-hot rapture.

Suguru’s climax was set off by your muffled moaning, ropes of his cum pumping into your mouth and down your throat. You did your best to swallow every drop, mindlessly lapping it up each time his hardness stirred and twitched.

Slowly, he pulled back and allowed you to gasp and catch your breath, his length continuing to throb despite you having sucked the soul out of him. 

He aided you in sliding off of Satoru and positioned you on the headboard of the bed, cooing at you for being such a good girl for them.

Satoru pounced on you, too antsy to let you rest. He smashed his mouth onto yours, tongue delving past your parted lips. You could taste yourself on him, in the way he rubbed his tongue on yours, sharing the flavor of your slick; mildly acidic, with a hint of salt and something almost bitter, but not quite.

Tang, the word hit you.

Big hands worked to hike your legs up, hooking them around that svelte waist of his, handsy and groping. The tip of his dick prodded against your fluttering, tender folds, causing you to attempt to retreat from the stimulus.

Keyword: attempt.

He latched his palms onto your waist, preventing you from running away. He huffed, voice husky from gulping down your juices. “Where do you think you’re going, pretty?”

“I’m s-sensitive!” You whined pitifully, fingers raking into his forearms, uncertain if you were trying to shove him away or drag him closer.

“Oh, baby, I know,” he purred with false condolence. “But, you can take it, can’t you? Be a good girl for me?”

Any of your pleas fell on deaf ears, your begging faltering as he notched the tip against your entrance and began pushing in, determined to fuck you dumb.

You hadn’t known it was possible to feel this full until he was bullying his length into you, inch by merciless inch, deeper, deeper.

“Fuck,” he heaved, struggling to maintain control. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

You were trying to stay relaxed, to let him carve a spot for himself inside of you, but that fucked out look on his face and his whiny tone had you squeezing unintentionally. He grunted and paused, air whistling through his teeth.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed in warning.

Swallowing thickly, you whimpered, jabbing your sticky palms against his hips. “Too big!”

Suguru swept your hair from your forehead. “You’re taking it so well, though, angel,” he soothed, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Come on, you can take the rest.”

“The rest?” Your eyes widened. “There’s more–!?”

You cried out when Satoru gave you one last lunge to hilt himself fully within you, hips flush to yours, symphysis knocking against your tingling clit. 

Heavens above, you swore he was buried up to your diaphragm.

He pried one hand from his hip, exposing the tiny ovals that would undoubtedly fade to bruises come morning, and brought it down to the apex of your thighs. He withdrew an inch at most, unwilling to part further, and guided it down between your thighs. He pressed it against your cunt, spreading your ring and middle fingers apart to slip the base of his cock between them. 

“Feel me?” He growled against your cheek, imploring you to observe how you were connected directly.

You clenched around him with a whimper at the sensation, causing him to jerk forward involuntarily, then let out a gruff laugh against the junction of your neck.

“Get to it,” Suguru frowned, restlessness showing through his typically unruffled exterior.

Satoru sneered at him. “Give me a damn minute, I’m gonna cum way too fast if you rush me.”

Leave it to his best friend to taunt him in the middle of sex of all things. “What are you, a highschool boy?”

“She’s got my dick in a chokehold, man,” he spat.

He retracted halfway and sheathed himself again experimentally, testing the waters, and he was rewarded with a moan bubbling free from you.

Hunger flashed in his beautiful, eternal blues, a ravenous desire to hear more of the sweet noises you could give him, and you knew you were in trouble.

All hesitance flew out the window for him.

Any way to describe how glorious it felt to have his cock pounding into you disappeared from your vocabulary, abandoning you with only the ability to let out a petite ah! ah! ah! each time he vanished into you and his tip bumped against your cervix.

Suguru wasn’t content to have you experiencing only one form of stimulation. Set on making you lose your mind, the rough pads of his thumbs rubbed over your pebbled nipples, the contact steering you into arching your back. You weren’t sure if you were trying to push into his touch, or escape it, your body too overwhelmed to decipher your own intentions. 

Satoru was mumbling praises to you, nibbling on your jaw and the slope of your shoulder, printing his claim anywhere he could. It went in one ear and out the other, your consciousness torn between the boys as they took you apart and put you back together to fit the mold they created for you.

A pinch and flick to your nipples had you belling in bliss. 

Your vision was foggy with tears, blurring the lines between night and light, sky and earth, whose mouth was on you, whose hands were compressing your flesh until it spilled between their fingers. Whether it was Gojo suckling on your breast, or Geto rubbing your clit in rapid, honed circles, you didn’t know and didn’t care so long as it never stopped.

The peak of your second climax was approaching too soon, too fast. You yourself got only a wisp of a warning of its arrival, let alone a chance to warn the boys.

“Gonna– ah! ‘M gonna–!” 

Satoru groaned. “Fuck, me too.”

“Say it,” Suguru goaded you on. “What do you want?”

You lugged in a shaky breath. “Wanna cum! Please, I– ngh!”

His lips grazed your cheek. “Cum.”

The strained wire inside the burning heat of your belly gave way to a rush of ecstasy, releasing in the form of a burst of clear spray onto Satoru’s lower stomach. A bell rang in your ears, pitchy and sonorous as you jerked and shook from the pleasure.

That set his orgasm off, his hips stilling flat against yours. Syrupy streams of his cum painted your walls pearly white, never-ending as he kept cumming, and cumming, and cumming.

You were both panting, struggling for air, when it finally stopped. He pulled out languidly, hissing as his soaked cock was exposed to the air. His eyes were welded to your pussy – specifically, the thin rivulet of ivory that leaked out. Unthinkingly, he scooped it up with two fingers and tamped it back into you, enamored by your bleat of objection.

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life,” he confessed, sitting back on his heels and running a hand through his hair. “I get the sense that the feeling is mutual, eh?”

Geto kissed the corner of your mouth, kneading your sore chest. “You made quite the mess.”

You blushed and hid your face against your pillow. “Sorry.” 

“No, that was hot as hell. Shoulda told me you squirt,” Gojo laughed, voice rough at the edges. 

“I didn’t know I could,” you muttered.

He shuddered. “Fuck, you’re so bad for my ego, princess.”

You grumbled, squinting at him. Of course, he would find ways to boost his ego. You didn’t have it in you to mock him, feeling spent.

Oh, but they had other plans for you.

Your world spun as arms hooked under your body, picking you up and repositioning you.

Suguru lifted you onto his lap, setting your hands onto his pecs to keep you balanced. He placed open-mouthed kisses on the hickeys budding on your neck and collar as he pressed on your lower back to make you lean into him and subconsciously raise your hips. You were too hazy to pay any heed to what he was doing until he had the fat tip of his length poking at your entrance, seeking passage.

You jolted back to peer at him with panicked eyes. “Wait, no, not ready,” you shook your head. “‘M too sensitive.”

“C’mon, angel,” he comforted you by squeezing the outside of your thigh. “I know you can do it.”

You couldn’t argue back, your jaw busy hanging as he steered your hips down. Though you had been stretched by Satoru and were immensely slippery with a mix of his cum and your slick, there was still a hint of resistance. You held your breath, trembling as he pushed harder, urged you lower.

The head popped in, and you sank down several inches with a stilted gasp and drawn-out keen.

He inhaled sharply, burrowing his nose into the hollow of your neck, his grip on your hips crushing as he kept you in place. You were reeling from being able to take him to begin with, shaking from head to toe at the delicious sting of the stretch. 

“Fuck,” he growled, poise dropping. 

“So big,” you exhaled, speech staggered.

Gradually, he eased you onto him, letting you feel him in full. You clutched him like he was your lifeline because, honestly, he was. 

You were too focused on not splitting apart to notice the second man in the room kneeling behind you until he broke your concentration by swiping slick from your cunt and pressing the tip of his middle finger against the tight ring of your other hole.

You yelped and whipped your head to the side, staring at Satoru from over your shoulder. “What–”

“Shh,” he nuzzled your temple, trying to distract you. “Just sit there and let us take care of you.”

To your relief, he went slow, letting you get accustomed to the sensation of one of his fingers prodding and toying with your hole. Your tenseness being replaced by breathy keens was his cue to coax a second one beside the first, the two pumping and scissoring apart. A third joined them soon, working you open unhurriedly.

Once he was satisfied, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, stroking it a few times to smear your arousal onto it.

He positioned himself, one hand clasping your waist to keep you motionless, as if the secure snare Suguru held your hips in wasn’t enough.

“Deep breath for me, pretty,” Satoru requested.

You complied. Heeding his warning, you took a deep, measured breath.

At the same time, he pushed into you, persuading you to let him in with consistent pressure. 

A protest crept its way up your voice box, coming out as reedy fussing. “W-Won’t fit,” you croaked.

“It will,” he asserted. “You can take it.”

He abated for a second, and you loosened – then, he thrust upwards suddenly.

“Ah!” You cried out, eyes squeezed shut as tight as possible. Your nails dug into Suguru’s shoulders, deep enough to etch crescents into them, but he only crooned and rubbed his thumbs under your ribs to soothe you.

“You’re doing so well for us, angel,” he murmured to you, pressing tiny kisses to each corner of your mouth. “Taking us so well.”

They both grunted when you clenched down at the revere and Satoru placed his forehead against the curve of your trapezius. His hands held your sides tightly, fingertips no doubt leaving bruises in their wake.

He was buried only midway inside you, and already, he was at his wit’s end. You all were, to be fair. 

“Need you to relax, bunny,” he mumbled, nipping at your nape. “Need to feel you. Be inside you.”

Suguru was holding up the best out of the three of you, murmuring sweet nothings to you, stroking your stomach, gently massaging your breasts, anything to get you to ease up and melt into them. He was already bottomed out in your cunt, so deep inside you, you swore you could feel him behind your navel.

Satoru waited for you to unwind, edging into you whenever you allowed it, sinking in more and more until he was finally seated to the base.

All three of you let out weighty sighs, pleased he was able to wrestle his way in.

Nothing could ever come close to the sensation of being crowded and stuffed to the absolute brim like this. You could distinctly feel their cocks rubbing against one another through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, their heartbeats racing. You were filled beyond capacity, it was a boon Satoru was able to fit himself next to Suguru.

“Good girl,” the noiret beamed at you, smoothing his thumbs over your aching nipples. “Fuck, such a good girl for us, aren’t you?”

“Knew you could do it,” the towhead rubbed his cheek against yours. “You feel so good, baby.”

Satoru moved first, drawing back ‘til the tip remained, then shoved back in. You keened, your head falling back to rest on his collarbone. He took his time setting a comfortable pace, after which Suguru started moving. He guided your hips to grind on his, his motions opposite to Gojo’s. When one was in, the other was out, back and forth, ensuring you were never empty at any given moment.

A rhythm built up, a melody of harmonized moans and cries and filthy promises bouncing off the walls of your room. The three of you became one, a flowing machine, all parts operating together to create a rhapsody of names and skin-on-skin.

They were everywhere, all at once. There wasn’t a spot anywhere on you they hadn’t touched, a location they hadn’t fanned their palms over, a zone they hadn’t marked, a piece they hadn’t claimed.

Inside and out, if they could reach it, it was theirs. Body, heart, mind, and soul, you were theirs, and they were yours. They assured you of such, telling you how they pined for you, how you had them wrapped around your little finger. 

“Loved you from the day I laid eyes on you, princess,” Satoru said, gravelly. “I’m– shit– I’m f-fuckin’ crazy for you.”

“Toru!” 

“Yeaaah, say my name,” he implored you.

You hiccuped. “S-Satoru!”

He groaned, deep and from the soul. “Fuck, I love you so much, pretty girl.”

“Love yo-ou,” you stuttered, laboring to put more than two words together.

Suguru cupped your jaw. “And me?”

“Love you, S-Sugu,” you promised.

He gifted you that smile that you adored more than you could convey, your spirit overjoyed. “My precious angel. I love you, too.”

You didn’t know how he was acting so put-together in the middle of fucking your brains out. Sweat clung to his forehead, his defined neck, and the contours of his torso, droplets trailing down and sticking his hair to his skin. 

By comparison, you were a wreck of incoherent babbling and firing synapses, strewn between them as they ravaged your body. Their syncopated tempo wouldn’t grant you a brief pause to anchor yourself, completely at the hands of their mercy. Their sizes caused them to push firmly into any and every sweet spot you had, blinding you with a euphoria unlike any other.

Either because he was amused by your struggle, or because he was a bit sadistic, Suguru planted his heels onto your bed and rammed into you.

Your vision flickered, cognizance short-circuited from the abrupt burst of pleasure. It forced you directly to the height of your elation, teetering precariously on the summit, ready to dive off it.

“Nngh!” You mewled, brows furrowed, body wound tight. A taut bowstring, waiting to be released.

“Go on, mochi,” Satoru grunted when you clenched down on them. “Cum for us.”

“I-I can't!” You sobbed. “I– I need–”

“I've got you, love,” Suguru huffed. You bucked when the pad of his thumb pressed against your sensitive, febrile clit. 

He circled it roughly in pace with their thrusts once, twice, and you shattered.

Your muscles locked up, throat pinched shut as a shot of pure, electric nirvana in its rawest form rolled in your tummy, then exploded outwards. It filled your limbs, fogged your mind, darkened your sight, flooding your entire being until you knew nothing but such divine euphoria.

You couldn't register your own blissful cry, or if you had cried at all, too lost in your senses to hear both men trilling and fawning over you while struggling to keep rhythm and control when you squeezed and milked them so well. 

In the darkness behind your eyes, where their light had yet to touch, you witnessed something beyond the bounds of your mortal comprehension. 

You heralded the heat death of the universe. You saw every speck of cosmic brilliance either smolder out until it lived no longer, or detonate in the grandest scenes you never believed you could be present for. Dust, fire, and energy burst throughout the swiftly collapsing ether, until all that was left were the abyssal, all-devouring voids that struggled to survive with the last of the matter they had shorn from clusters of galaxies and the stars they eventually dragged into their bottomless weasands.

When they, too, died, there was nothing. Silence, stygian darkness, not a soul nor being to be found.

Then, it all compressed. The petals of the universe themselves tucked inwards, folded over and over, packed down into a tiny dot, a speck more than anything else, where all matter was serried and reunited as one. It shrank and shrank, growing heavier, denser, hotter by the second.

You alone were the sole seer to the birth of the firmament. 

You were there to descry in all glory how the heavens came to be, how the stars sparked to life, weak at first as they formed, fell, and formed again, repeating the cycle until the colossal entities became gods in their own rights. You bore the heavy weight of being testimony to the truth greater than anyone could ever picture. 

You saw the coruscating fireworks of resplendent celestial bodies as they caved in on themselves, then went out with a final, grand eruption of phosphorescence. You beheld how some brought the next generation of stars, while others crumpled under the overpowering vise of the freezing vacuum of space, creating monstrosities that knew only how to consume and exist as the brightest, most refulgent beings.

And then, as the universe retreated from your perception, there was only them.

Only Satoru and Suguru, as they grit their teeth and held your hips and waist with enough pressure to ache deep in your bones, their sweaty forms halted against your own. Sweltering, liquid fire poured into your core, their cocks pulsing within your snug walls as you drained them for all they were worth and more.

Time ceased to exist immemorial. The three of you wound down, breathing each other in, simply being. Once lecherous hands glided up and down your sweat-slicked figure, unhurried now that you’d all reached the promised land together. 

They were patient, giving you time to return to yourself. Soft-spoken vows and encomia, gentle petting, bringing you down from your astronomical high.

Gojo crooked his arms under your thighs, hoisting you up off of Geto’s lap. The action caused both of them to slip out of you, making you wince and whimper.

He hushed you sweetly as he set you on your side, nestling against your back with his arms looped around your waist, keeping you close. Suguru laid down in front of you, dotting kisses along your hairline, cheeks, nose, and one right on your lips.��

“What brought it on?” Suguru spoke in low tones, and you felt his voice more than heard it.

“Mm?” You hummed, sleepy and confused.

“Why’d you leave the wedding?” He clarified.

You blushed, embarrassed at the reminder, now that you knew how they felt about you. “Ah, well…I, um…” You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “I saw you smile at another girl and it kinda…set me off, I guess.”

He frowned. “Smile?”

You tilted your head to hide your face, regardless of the darkness in your room. “The one that kissed your cheek.”

Satoru snorted harshly. “Oh, my god, that wasn’t a smile.”

“It wasn’t?” You blinked.

He cackled. “Hell no. I thought he was gonna blow a fuse. He looked like he’d been dropped in a vat of sap or something. Livid, I’m telling you.”

“I refrained,” Suguru insisted.

“You almost broke your teeth,” the other boy refuted.

He clicked his tongue. “It was uncomfortable. Besides, I don’t want any woman near me that isn’t our angel.”

The baby bird residing within you fluttered its wings at his words. Our. You were theirs just as they were yours.

In the afterglow of your lovemaking, as the two got comfy with you, snuggled up with you in the middle, you let your mind drift. Thoughts you fought against since the day you moved here were given the spotlight, allowed to say their pieces without you shoving them into the box under your bed. 

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite. 

Where once you considered yourself faded, washed out, and forever at risk of being bound to the ground, you realized something important.

As your fingers carded through Suguru’s soft, damp hair, and Satoru formed small circles under your ribs with his thumb, you noticed that the achromatic world you had lived in had been doused with color. It took you a while to see it, to fully process that the longer you stayed in this little village, the more vibrant the watercolor paints became, but they were there now, and you’d never be able to draw your eyes away from them.

Like a kite, you yearned to be free; to feel the wind under your wings and the sun on your back. You always blamed the rope that connected you to the ground for keeping that freedom away from you. It had you locked in a gilded cage, so you trimmed it further and further until you were just a kite, without any strings, without any connections to anyone or anything.

Without a home.

Upon reflection, you acknowledged that it didn’t make you free – it made you lost.

You had been lost for so long.

Then, you found them; the boys that wrapped your body in countless arms and legs, never any real beginning or end between you and them. You found these friends you made, and they all tied differently colored threads around your bamboo bones. 

You let them. 

You were scared when you fell, when the wind stopped blowing and you were torn from the skies, unable to follow the gales, you’d splinter beyond repair.

But, they caught you – Satoru and Suguru, together, as one.

And it clicked in your head the moment they said they wanted you, the same way you wanted them.

Being bound didn’t mean you were chained. Being tethered to them meant you could glide and soar in the sky without the fear of ever getting misled again, and the strings would guide you home when the gentle gusts calmed or the whipping tempests grew too angry.

You thought, ages ago, that you’d never be okay with being fettered to someone, or something. You had to be completely isolated, unshackled.

In truth, you just needed to find the people you wanted to share your link with. The pinkies and ankles you’d knot red threads around.

It was them all along. The Sun and Moon incarnate, with their Star held between them, all of you aloft and flying with hands clasped as a single being. There was no fear of your bond ever snapping, of any of you ever being torn away by an unforgiving storm.

Being bound meant you had a home.

And your home was with these two, with Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. 

Your home was here, in this village, away from anything grand and suffocating. It was here, in their arms, fingers and hearts intertwined.

You just had to get a little lost before being found.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

taglist: @kimi01985

[yowumi]

Hotshot surgeon Gojo x Medical Student Reader Ft. Hotshot Surgeon Suguru [ modern au ] TW. Pregnancy & Love Triangle

Shotgun Wedding CH. 01 | one night, forever?

Summary. Satoru Gojo, The states #1 Neurosurgeon, known for his wealthy clan. He was known for his success, parties, and his willingness to fuck anybody and everybody in a 10 mile radius. Unfortunately, one unlucky night, you make the wise decision to do what any hard working young medical student would do when faced with a sexy doctor…you sleep with him in which changes your life forever.

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.

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Warnings. Accidental pregnancy, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), love triangle, roommates (they all live together), arranged marriage, satoru is a bit of a meanie, plot twists, angst, smut, you only end up with one.

A/N. this is my first time writing a fanfic, although i’ve always wanted to! i’m always open to take constructive criticism or any tips to make my writing better! I hope you guys enjoy and definitely lemme know if you have any suggestions, read well luv <3

keep up! // ch. 1 // ch. 2 (coming soon)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

12:09

one, two, three…

this can’t be right, why do these all say positive, there isn’t any possible way this could be happening. You were only twenty two, this can’t be happening.

positive

positive

positive.

the plus sign on the pregnancy test is clear as day. you were pregnant. this had to be some mistake, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve got it on with someone let alone let anyone not use protection.

you’ve always been way too cautious, especially with your mother being a young mother herself, always so strict when it came to boys and using protection.

how could you fuck up this bad?

a tear falls from your face, before many more. you can’t hold it together, not now. you can’t be a mother? you don’t even know who the father is. this is all too much.

beep, beep

Incoming Call: King Nobara

you look at the dumb contact name you and nobara made up one night while you were drunk recalling the night where she had yuji bow down to her passing her drinks while pronouncing her ‘King Nobara’ for getting the drunkest.

You send it to voicemail, there’s no way you could face her right now. nobara would burn down the city if she knew her best friend was crying.

ding

King Nobara: omgggg im so hungover from last night, yuji said him and gumi had to force me out lmao

King Nobara: where did you go btw i was tryna find you all night, last i saw you were with doctor save a hoe 🍆💦

fuck.

14 hours ago.

“Oh my god i can’t believe Shoko invited us here, there’s so many hotties! Oh my god is that Maki Zenin” She slaps your arm playfully trying to grab your attention towards Maki Zenin.

Maki Zenin, She wasn’t a big shot surgeon but she was a quick learner, being the first in her class to get an internship at only nineteen years old, making a special exception straight out of high school. Nobara is a total fangirl for her, admiring her for being a ‘girl boss’ and her beauty.

some would even say Nobara had a little crush, although she would never admit it.

“aren’t we supposed to be here for work” Megumi makes a remark towards Nobara and Yuji who are already shoving wine down their throats.

“Hey man take advantage of the free alcohol, this shit is nothing like cheep shit we get, taste it gumi!” Yuji hands Megumi a glass looking at him like an excited puppy.

Megumi rolls his eyes and takes a sip.

“Whatever, i just hope I don’t see Gojo, he’s always pestering me about how I should let him mentor me.” Megumi gets all creeped out from the thought of Gojo.

Apparently he has known Gumi since he was a kid, they are about 8 years apart in age.

Megumi hates him.

“He’s the #1 Neurosurgeon in tokyo, it isn’t a horrible idea” You suggest, “Being close to someone like that itself is a blessing, he could totally help you out”

“Yeah i hear he’s like loaded rich! he could pay for like your dog food and shit since you buy that crap every day!” Nobara slurs her words and laughs,

Megumi has a lot of pets surprisingly, Nobara likes to joke that he’s ‘Snow White’. He really does buy a lot of dog food though to be fair, his dogs are huge.

“No amount of money is worth spending time with that maniac, I’d rather buy dog food every hour” He finishes his drink

This talk of Gojo is getting him worked up, “His best friend isn’t that bad though, I hear he’s a respectable man and good at his studies” Megumi adds,

“Oh what’s his name! uh Gojo-“ Yuji tries to think of who he’s talking about, the mention of Gojo makes megumi shoot Yuji a glare, “-OH! I KNOW! I KNOW! GETO!” he says excitedly as if he just figured out the hardest puzzle in the world,

Nobara cheers Yuji on, and you take a sip of your drink admiring their immaturity. Something you and Megumi can appreciate from them is how they always keep a light attitude. The pressure of school and work was draining and keeping a light attitude constantly couldn’t be easy.

You all look over to find Geto before Nobara points towards him, “oh my gosh he’s so handsome, you should totally talk to him y/n he’s ogling you like crazy! you need to get over that stupid choso anyways” She says grabbing your arm to motion you towards him,

“ugh don’t remind me, i don’t want to think of that asshole” You say, chugging down drinks before you could think any longer.

Before you knew it, Geto was walking towards you, you suddenly felt nervous, his presence was intimidating. Anyone can argue his beauty is unmatched, he has such a romantic aspect to him, looking at him looks like love itself, you’re struggling to keep your composure.

“Hello, you must be y/n l/n, I’ve heard lots about you, I couldn’t help but introduce myself” He says with a charming smile,

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I admire your medical expertise” You say entranced in his eyes, it felt like he was staring into your soul.

“No need to be so formal, you can call me Suguru if you’d like” He says while taking your hand and kissing it, you realize Nobara has disappeared somewhere.

“You should come by my office sometime, I would be interested in talking more with you soon, i’m afraid i’ve grown too tired to stay here any longer, have to hide before Satoru brings me into some trouble” He laughs off at the mention of Satoru,

Wow, Satoru Gojo really wasn’t a good influence, huh?

You nod and say you’re goodbyes as you watch as he leaves with a blonde man. Nanami Kento, Tokyo’s #1 Obstetrician.

You wander off barely holding yourself up as you bump into someone nearly causing you to fall over. “M-my apologies” You say slurring your words as you look up to see a tall white haired man, he looked like an angel.

His blue eyes pierced you as he smirks and says “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, i was in the way, how about I buy you a drink for my stupidity” He flirts

and it’s working.

You nod and he pulls you gently over to sit down in a corner, there wasn’t many people here, almost everyone left.

As you guys pile up on drinks, you both become ridiculously drunk, talking about debt and studies and about your career, until you both could barely think.

You both just sit in a comfortable silence for a while, before you see the white man slowly pull you into a kiss, his lips were soft and you could smell the cologne on him, he smelt really good.

You’re hand wrapped around his neck, you look around before going any further realizing you two were the only ones left. You get on top of him and sit on his lap as he pulls you closer, tracing the arch of your back.

He holds your hips down on him, feeling the bulge in his dress pants. The kiss deepened as he laid you down on the booth, placing his jacket under you for comfort without pulling away from the kiss once.

He slowly plants kisses down your chest, “you’re beautiful” he breaks away before unbuckling his pants and pulling them down just enough to pull out his dick.

He unbuttoned his shirt next to show his muscular body, you traced the lines of his abs with your fingers before going down to his v line, he groaned a little before lifting up the dress you were wearing to take your underwear off, grabbing one of your clothed plump boobs that were barely staying in the dress.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, promise princess, gonna make this pussy mine” he says as he places his dick against your core, feeling him twitch against your clit earning a moan from you and for him to buck his hips closer.

He enters you and he swears he’s seeing stars as he thrusts into you greedily, he’s slurring his words as he mutters things about how “it’s mine, gonna cum in this pussy” he says feeling himself become closer the longer he’s inside of you.

you haven’t gotten any action in so long, you haven’t even been on the pill, this didn’t cross your mind in the moment of course. Who would think about that when Satoru Gojo is saying he wants to cum inside of you?

“shit, fucking gonna cum inside, so tight, gonna breed you so well, say it. say you’ll let me breed a sweet little baby into you, fuck” he groaned letting lose of the little composure he had before.

“cum inside me, Satoru, want you to put a baby inside of me” and with those words Satoru whimpered in your ear as he kept thrusting hard feeling cum ache out of his balls, filling you up to the brim.

This happened about 3 more times before he had your drive drop you off at home where you’re roommate, Megumi had to carry you inside and he gives Gojo a disgusted look.

After laying you down he leaned down on the car door, where Gojo slowly rolled down the window and looked like a child on trouble.

“What the fuck did you do, Satoru. She is barely conscious.” He says with anger in his voice. He knew Satoru wouldn’t do anything without consent but he wouldn’t be surprised if he took advantage of his pretty privilege with drunk woman.

“So am i, Gumi” he says barely able to stay awake for this conversation.

“Whatever just leave her alone, she isn’t one of your girls, she’s my friend and she has potential to be more than one of your little interns” He says while walking off

In the moment Satoru was glad Megumi left because he was on the verge of passing out. He didn’t think you were one of his little interns, he was listening when you were speaking about your goals and dreams of being a doctor. He really wasn’t trying to get into your pants, but he knew Suguru was been eye balling you for weeks, so he already felt regretful for sleeping with you.

back to the present

you’re brought back from your thoughts when you hear a knock on your door startling you from your head as you take a second to clear your voice so it doesn’t sound like you were crying.

“You alright in there? i heard a noise” Megumi’s voice echos through the door and you grab your composure, wiping away your tears before opening the door.

you put on a smile, “yeah sorry i’m just really hungover, you can come in” you offer noticing he brought you a coffee.

you both sit on the bed before megumi breaks the silence, “Gojo dropped you off last night, are you okay? he didn’t make you join an orgy or something right?” he asks concerned.

You and megumi have been friends since you were kids, his big sister was your best friend before her death in middle school, ever since then you and megumi have been pretty close, you were almost like family. sharing a mutual grief and love for someone close to each other.

“No, he didn’t do anything like that, I promise” you laugh off and he stares for a while trying to find any discomfort in your words before believing your words.

ding

King Nobara: OH YEAH AND YUJI KISSED MEGUMI LAST NIGHT!!!! DONT TELL HIM I TOLD YOU

The phone was on the bed facing right towards you and megumi before his face turns red and he flips the phone over.

you’re face brightens at this news, “Megumi! you have to tell me about this right now, hold on let’s all have a group call!” you say laughing heading towards your phone before he chases you down for it.

You: TELL ME ALL THE DETAILS.

“NO!” He raises his voice a little, face burning red, “I’m not talking to itadori.” He states, looking away in embarrassment.

ding

megumi looks up with wide eyes, “Wait!” he says flustered trying to reach for the phone.

King Nobara: MEGUMI KISSED HIM FIRST

Megumi lays his head in his hands and faces towards the wall like a child who has been punished. “WHAAAAT” you say laughing as you poke at his sides trying to get it out of him.

“I’m leaving now.” he says walking away with hands still in his hands as he goes to find the leashes for his dogs.

you laugh as he walks away.

“Wait Gumi! quick question” you say stopping him, hesitated if you should ask him

He stops at his tracks and turns towards you raising an eye brow in acknowledgement,

“Can you give me Satoru Gojo’s Address”

he looks away almost in disappointment before writing it down on a sticky note before heading out the door, before closing it he pauses before saying, “be careful, y/n”

Now that you have his address, you head off to find his house

knock knock knock

Your nerves were going crazy, like at any moment you would explode. How were you even supposed to tell this to him?

Oh hey! I know your probably don’t remember me because we were hammered but you actually got me pregnant haha surprise!

What were you thinking, as if he would even care. If anything he was gonna tell you to go away or that you were crazy or threaten your career so you will get rid of it.

A rich asshole doesn’t want his life interrupted by this.

Before you turn to leave, you hear the door swing open revealing a familiar face.

Suguru Geto

He looks surprised to see you, he’s most likely thinking ‘how did this crazy chic find my place’

Damnit megumi gave you the wrong address, this is so embarrassing, you should just go home and eat ice cream while crying about how utterly stupid you are.

“Oh, i’m so sorry- this is so weird uh i thought this was Gojo’s house, megumi gave me an address and he gave me the wrong one, so sorry! uh i’ll be going now..” you say looking down in embarrassment, it stays silent for a while before you hear him laugh.

Why is he laughing?

“May i ask why you’re looking for Gojo?” he asks in curiosity,

You try and think fast of an excuse to use, what could you possibly tell him, there was no good excuse to be at his house, it’s not like you guys were friends.

So you do the most believable excuse you could give him.

“I left my uh underwear at his place and i came to pick it up but i was too hammered to remember the place!” you say, that had to be convincing, right?

He nods in amusement,

“aw that’s interesting. Satoru came home alone last night, I would know I live here as well” And now you feel stupid.

Fuck.

“So uh this is his house then…” you say,

Suguru nods slowly before you see Satoru call out for Suguru, approaching the door, shirt off and only in pajama pants.

His eyes widen when he sees you, Suguru can’t know about what happened last night, oh he’s fucked. He has to play it off like he doesn’t know you, it’s for the best.

You look at him in worry, he wonders if something is wrong with the way she’s looking at him. Suguru looks towards him with a smirk but he knew Suguru was pissed by the way he didn’t look him in the eye.

“You have a visitor, Satoru.” He says before leaving back into the house.

Satoru looks at you now, “Hey” he says awkwardly rubbing his head, he somehow feels like your gonna yell at him, he feels like he’s in trouble.

You take a baggie out of your pocket that showed the three pregnancy tests, all positive.

He looks confused at first before he sees it for himself, his eyes widen, fuck.

“What the hell are these fake?! I can’t be the father, haven’t you slept with anyone else lately?!” He says in a panic not realizing how aggressive he is coming off

You shake your head no, feeling tears fall from your eyes

“You can’t keep it! Suguru would kill me, your career is at stake! my career is on the line! It isn’t mine!” He starts freaking out, how could he fuck up this bad

“I can raise it on my own, this was stupid! I knew i should have never told you, you only care about yourself!” you yell before you try and walk away and he grabs your hand.

He takes a moment to get his composure back, to get himself together. “let’s just, let’s sit down” He says calmly not looking you in the eye.

You sit down and you both don’t say a word for a few minutes, satoru runs his hands over his hair and you lay your head in your lap.

Hiding the fact that it’s Satoru Gojo’s child would be very hard, his clans genes are very strong, your child is bound to have his signature white hair and blue eyes.

The only man with those features. It would be puzzled together with no problem, you don’t have any of those features. Would you really have to abort the baby?

You didn’t plan on being a mother but…

it doesn’t mean you didn’t want to be.

“I’m keeping the baby. You don’t have to be in its life if you don’t want to. I understand.” You grab your bag and stand up.

“I will be in the child’s life, it isn’t fair to just leave you with a child, i’m not an asshole. It’s my fault in the first place, I will accept it, eventually.” He said looking down in his hands, for once he seemed mature, like he was serious about what he was saying.

“Are you sure?”

He nods.

“Thank you for showing me, y/n” He looks up and softly smiles, he felt sorry for how he just stressed you out, the least he could do was offer a comforting smile, he wanted to be there for her.

“You live with Megumi right?” He asks even though he knows the answer. You nod.

“That wont do, you will move your things here, there are two doctors here and a maid to watch over you and Gumi’s place isn’t big enough for a baby” He says but it’s almost demanding.

“What do i tell him?” You ask, how were you gonna tell your friends this, Megumi is gonna be so disappointed.

“Dunno, it’s up to you, I wont tell him anything until you do so it’s up to you, you don’t need your bed and stuff, just get what you need, we can get it now” He says going in his house to get his keys, seeing Suguru looking at him from behind the kitchen island.

You walk in as he grabs his keys and look at the floor, still in your head about all of this.

“Where are y’all heading” Suguru asks, sipping on his coffee like a dad interrogating his daughter. Which in this case his daughter is Satoru.

“Getting her stuff, she’s gonna move in here” He says, he knows what he did was messed up to Suguru but he didn’t feel like he owed him an explanation, not now. He still needed to process it himself.

Suguru says nothing to Satoru and turns towards you instead, he places a soft smile of hospitality towards you, “Well make yourself at home” He says before walking off not even looking at Satoru as he walks off.

The rest of the night, Satoru takes you to your apartment so you can pack your things, he helps you and thankfully Megumi isn’t home so it makes things easier. Satoru would get a mouthful from him for sure.

Before packing the last of your things, you leave the money for the bills you pay and a sticky note,

What were you supposed to say?

“I’m going to be moving, found somewhere to stay, thank you for letting me stay with you Gumi, you have my number if anything, the keys are under the mat” and you stick it on top of the money before heading out.

The car ride home is silent, leaving you and satoru both in your thoughts. A man you just met yesterday got you pregnant, and now you’re going to live with him.

Not to mention, you are living with Tokyo’s finest and best surgeons in the country.

How did you get here?

.

.

.

A/N. OMG i just realized that reader wouldn’t be able to find out she’s pregnant just after one night but i already wrote it and don’t feel like changing it soooo let’s just not pay attention to that mistake…

TAG LIST: @jeannieboys @maskedpacific @muimuiwisteria

take me to the next chapter! (coming soon…)

[kengan-daddies]

The Boy Next Door Baki Hanma x Motherly! Older Female Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

Anime : Baki: Son of Ogre Character : Baki Hanma Warning : Mention of child abuse, child neglect, questionable behavior, horror aspect

The Boy Next Door Baki Hanma x Motherly! Older Female Reader

The Boy Next Door Baki Hanma x Motherly! Older Female Reader

It's been about 5 months since Baki moved into your home, life has been the best it's ever been for you both. Baki had a mother and you had a son. Baki's grades have improved greatly since then too, you've helped him with his homework whenever he needed it and he also seemed to learn more easier with your help. You couldn't help with everything but with a few subjects, you could. He's been happier lately too, he'd spend most of the week at home while on weekends he'd go to his 'man cave' and he'd work out and train nonstop for hours. Then on Sunday evening he'd come home and eat dinner with you before he'd go to bed. Some weekends he didn't train at all, opting to stay home with you instead. Helping with chores, watching TV with you, going shopping, and even hanging out for the day.

You've gotten use to folding extra clothes, washing extra dishes, cleaning an extra room, and taking care of a dog. It was all familiar yet new to you. You've gotten used to helping Baki sleep at night, combing your fingers through his hair until he falls asleep. You've gotten used to him being up long before you on weekdays, you've gotten used to him following you around like a lost child, always ready to help you with even the smallest of tasks. He was always around, always there to help you when you least expect it, you found it cute. You've learned that Baki was a nervous kid. He wasn't used to asking for help or having a parent around. He was quick to leave without saying goodbye, but he'd always come rushing back in to either give you a hug or a quick goodbye.

You've gotten used to his physical affection, he liked hugs, but he didn't give hugs. instead, he'd rather receive them. He'd lean his head on your shoulder, or he'd hover around you quietly, looking sad or deep in thought. You didn't mind giving him hugs, it reminded you of his childhood, when he'd come rushing to you, tattered and beaten. Blood staining his clothes, his hair a mess, and bruises covering him. He'd say that he wasn't in pain but that he was sad, sad that his mother didn't love him. You've always given Baki hugs since you've known him, he'd find you in the most random of places, and he'd hang around you for the day, feeling comfort from your presence alone, and that still stands to this day.

You stood in the laundry room, and you were loading your clothes into the wash, starting with your pants, then shirts, and lastly underwear. You hummed a little tune as you hunched over the edge of the washing machine, one of your legs bent at the knee while your other leg was pushed up on your toe to help you reach into the washing machine. You sighed as you stood back up straight, Baki was standing behind you, a blank look on his face as he watched you load the wash with cleaning supplies. You closed the wash and turned it on. You turned around and almost ran into Baki but his hands held your shoulders to keep you from walking into him. You stared up at him in shock before you smiled at him. "Oh, Baki you startled me." You said with a chuckle.

His blank stare was strong and it made you slightly nervous. "Baki? ... What's wrong?" You asked. He stared at you a little longer before he released your shoulders and he looked down in thought. You stared at him in question and curiosity, your nervousness leaving you as worry overcame you instead. "Well... I was wondering... Would it be okay if... Kozue came by today?... I, uh... Want her to meet you." He said nervously. Your worried stare slowly melted into a sweet smile. "Of course, you can Baki, I don't mind at all dear." You said as you placed a hand on his shoulder. He gave released a shaky sigh at your response. "Awesome." He said.

The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door

Baki was walking home with Kozue next to him, they were quiet most of the way, just enjoying each other's company. Kozue was the first to speak up. "So... I'm going to meet your 'mom'?" She asked her gaze still on the pavement. Baki's lip twitched and his hand slightly clenched into a loose fist. "Yes, you're going to meet my Mom." He said in a light defensive tone. She looked over at him, seeing his jaw tight, his gaze cast forward. She looked away with an apologetic stare. "Sorry... We're going to meet your Mom, and I'm sure she's lovely." She said in a much more accepting tone. His jaw loosened and he gave a small smile. "She is... She's the most wonderful person you'll ever meet... She's so beautiful and so kind... I don't know where I would be without her." He said his voice full of admiration and love. She stared at him with a perplexed stare before she looked away her eyes towards the sky as she smiled. "Yeah... I most certainly can't wait to meet her now." She said.

He gave a light chuckle, his eyes gleaming as he saw the apartment complex not too far. "There, just up ahead." He said. She looked at the apartment complex. "Wow, it's a good-looking place." She said Baki's cheat swelled with pride. "I know right? My mom got the best taste." He said in a boastful voice. She chuckled at him as they entered the gate, heading towards the stairs. Their shoes tapped against the concrete stairs as they ascended to the fourth floor, once there, Baki dug in his pocket as he led the way, fishing for the key as they neared the door. They stopped in front of it and he began unlocking the door, however the door opened and Baki pulled back in slight shock when you suddenly opened it.

You stared at him with a smile, your hair combed and some light makeup on your face, you wore a casual outfit your purse on your shoulder, and some comfortable shoes on. "Hey Baki!! Glad to see you're home!" You happily said with a wave. They both stared at you as they blinked in thought, trying to understand. Baki was the first to speak. "Mom, where are you going?" He asked as he eyed the purse and your light makeup. You chuckled with a light wave of your hand. "Oh nowhere now, I just got back from the store actually." You explained. He frowned. "But I wanted to come with." He whined. You gave him a half-assed apologetic smile as you reached up to ruffle his hair. "Sorry Baki, I'll wait for you to get out of school next time." You said.

He pouted in response. "Okay." He said. You smiled sweetly as you gave him a light punch to his chin. "Aww, don't be like that sport, I promise to bring you with me next time, I promise, plus I got cha a snack!!" You said with a cheeky smile. A smile graced his face. "Really!?... Weeeeel." He said with false contemplation as he rolled his eyes in thought. Kozue watched you both, observing you both in your most natural element. She smiled softly at the two. 'She isn't his birth mother, but she's practically his mother... Their bond is so strong and it's full of happiness too.' She thought to herself as she watched you both laugh and goof around.

The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door

Kozue and Baki both sat in the living area on the couch, they were watching TV, and the sound of you fixing them a light snack could be heard in the kitchen, the two were watching the news, listening to the newsreportor speaking about crimes going on about in their area. Kozue looked over at Baki without moving her head, her eyes stared at him in wonderment and question as she saw the strange look on his face. 'Emotionless... Yet thoughtful and... What was that last emotion? I've never seen it before... It doesn't look right on Baki's face.' She thought as she stared at him from the corner of her eye. She looked to where he was looking and she saw you. She stared at you, trying to understand the reason for the look on his face. 'She's not doing anything strange to be gawked at like that, she's just making a snack.' She thought as she stared at you.

You moved back and forth slightly, preparing the light fulfilling snack for the two teens, you hummed a little tune while you were deep in thought, you walked over to the fridge and pulled out two cans of soda for them to drink from. You picked up their plates one in each hand as you turned around and you walked to them with a sweet smile on your face. "Here you two go, I hope sandwiches, chips, and cookies are enough to fill you two." You said as you placed the plates on the little table. They both smiled as they got off the couch and sat down before the little table. Baki had 4 sandwiches, 2 bags of chips, and 5 cookies while Kozue had 2 sandwiches, a bag of chips, and 4 cookies. Kozue smiled. "I haven't had a snack like this since I was a kid." She said as you placed their sodas down next to their plates.

You smiled at her. "Trust me, when you get older, you'll go back to these 'childhood snacks', they save so much time and they're actually pretty fulfilling." You explained. Kozue smiled at you. "What makes it so good?" She asked. "Nothing, it's just the fact that now you can actually appreciate the 'snack' as an easy meal is all." You said with a shrug. She stared at you for a moment before she looked at the plate. "Appreciate the snack as a meal..." She said to herself as she pondered the words. You chuckled at her. "You may not understand now, but you will one day, until then eat up!! I'll most definitely be cooking dinner tonight so that'll be a good 'meal' to hold you both over until then." You explained as you ruffled Baki's hair.

He looked up at you like a curious puppy and it made your heart melt. 'He's so adorable!!!' You thought. You pulled your hand away as you stretched your arms high, squealing in pleasure when you heard some bones pop that you didn't know where from. Your shirt rose up some, showing your lower stomach, you walked towards the stairs and you sighed, you stepped up on the first step before you looked back at them. "If you two need anything, just come ask, until then, Kozue?" You said giving her a pointed stare. She perked up as she looked over at you. "Yes ma'am?" She asked. You pointed over at Baki. "Ask Baki for anything and make yourself at home okay?" You said placing your hand on the railing. She nodded her head.

"Good. I'll see you two later, I'm tired, I need a nap." You said as you walked up the stairs. "Okay, bye Mom, sleep well." "Bye Miss (L/N), sleep good." They both said bidding you farewell you waved back lazily as you vanished upstairs. They both listened as your door opened and closed, they looked at one another and they smiled before they closed their eyes and clasped their hands together, and said their thanks.

The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door

Dinner has been cooked and served, and the three of you sat at the dining table eating your dinner. The sound of chopsticks lightly tapping together, the sound of bowls and cups being softly placed back down, and the sound of talking and laughter. That's all that could be heard as the three of you ate. Kozue could feel the love in the air, it was thick, it was beautiful, it was real. She could stay here forever, watching both you and Baki. "You guys deserve each other, the love is real and strong." She said. Both you and Baki stared at her. "You guys share so much harmony, it's truly one of a kind." She continued. Baki gave a soft chuckle as he looked down at his hands and you smiled at her. "Thank you, Kozue, you're a lovely girl. I'm so proud that Baki has found such a young woman like you." You said as you reached over and lightly pinched his cheek. "Ow." he whispered. Kozue blushed as she smiled bashfully at you. You chuckled as you let go of Baki's cheek. "Yeah, Kozue is a one-of-a-kind girl, she's real special." Baki said softly as he looked over at Kozue.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched them both smile at one another. "So many years have gone by... I missed so much... I'm sorry Baki." You said with a sigh. Baki looked over at you in shock at your words. "What are you talking about? You've done more than enough." He said a wavering smile on his face. You shook your head. "I could've done more, when I heard of your mother's death, I should've came to you, but I hid out... I was afraid." You said your gaze locked on your fingers as they rubbed against each other. "Afraid of what?" He asked, his voice almost a whisper. "I was afraid that you wouldn't want me in your life anymore, that your mother was your one and only, I didn't want you to feel like I was replacing her." You explained. Baki's hands balled into a fist as he breathed in shakily. "Don't say that." He said. "But it's true... I should've came to you sooner, I left you alone for four years, Baki... I'm a terrible person." You said with an empty chuckle.

He slammed his hands sown on the table, making both you and Kozue shake. "STOP SAYING THAT!!!" He shouted. You both stared at him in shock. "Baki." Kozue whispered. He walked around the table and he grabbed your arms, making you stand up as he turned you towards him. "Don't ever say such terrible things about yourself. You lie when you say that you left me alone for four years. You always left a bento box at my door for me to take to school every morning, you always folded my clothes for me when I wasn't home, you always kept my home clean, you kept groceries in my fridge, you'd buy me new clothes. You weren't there physically but you were there, and that was more than enough for me!!" He said his eyes gleaming in rage and passion. You stared up at him, speechless. "You were always there for me, you were always making my day brighter!! And then... You came to see me that day." His voice and grip relaxed, he wasn't holding you so tightly anymore, and his stare wasn't as intense.

"That rainy Saturday morning, you knew I didn't have any school that day, and you came to see me, drenched in rain, no shoes, the only thing you wore was that large shirt you like to wear to sleep, soaked in rainwater... You looked so pitiful yet so beautiful and strong at that moment... I was so happy to see you." He said, the memory just as vivid in his mind as if he was reliving it again. He held you in his arms, getting soaked himself but he didn't care, as he crumbled to the ground with you, the sound of your small voice constantly apologizing to him over and over, and he constantly replied with his hand rubbing your head as he reassured you that it was okay... It was a fond memory that he held close to his heart... Kozue watched as Baki hugged you tightly, his hand rubbing your head gently, your hand balled into the back of his shirt your face pressed into his shoulder, she didn't know that she was watching what happened that rainy Saturday morning, she smiled at the tender sight. Her smile slowly faded when she saw the gleam in Baki's eyes.

Even his face seemed different, it was the same stare she had seen earlier that day when you were making them a snack, it made her shiver in fear as she saw the look, it was so unfamiliar... so un-Baki... It was almost sinister. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise... I won't let anyone ever separate us ever again... No matter who, they are." He said, his gaze cutting over to Kozue. Her blood froze in her veins, and her eyes widened in fear as she stared at the dangerous glare in Baki's eyes. 'It's aimed at me... He's including me as a threat too... Does that mean... that everything we've been through doesn't matter to him?... Does his mother mean more than that?... Would he actually kill me?' She thought, his gaze was dangerous and filled with promise of violence. He finally looked away from Kozue and he pulled back from you, his eyes back to being loving and kind as he looked down at you.

You smiled at him. "Thank you, Baki, you're so sweet." You said, your hand reaching up as you pulled him down by his shoulder, and you kissed his forehead gently. "I'll do my best to be a great mother to you." You said. He smiled sweetly at you. "You already are, Mom." He said.

The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door

Kouze and Baki walked down the dark street together, silence enveloping them both as they walked to Kozue's home. You told Baki to walk her home and to make sure she got there safely, you gave her a hug goodbye and you let Baki know that you'll be at home waiting for him to get back and that he couldn't hang out because he had school tomorrow... They never spoke, from the time they left Baki's home to the time they were all the way to Kozue's home. He bid her farewell and that he'd see her later, and with that, he left, almost anxious to get home... She sat up in her room, dressed in her night clothes as she brushed her hair out, her mind wondering to what happened at dinner. "That stare, that look... It wasn't Baki at all, he almost seemed like a monster... He gave her that stare at the most random at times." She spoke aloud to herself as she thought back to the strange blank stare he would give you. "He almost looked... Hungry in a way... Like he was hunting... It wasn't normal." She said as she placed her brush down. Her eyes widen in realization. "No... not hunger... but possession... He's possessive of his Mom... It's normal, no matter how you look at it." She said as she looked down at her lap.

Her hands in her lap gripped the fabric of her pajama pants. "And then there was that stare he gave me... when he promised that he and his mom would never get separated... no matter who it was... It was full of violence, no ounce of love in his eyes as he stared at me... I've never seen him look at me like that, not even to his opponents would he would look at them like that." She spoke, her voice wavering from fear. She sat there a little longer before she reached over and she turned off her lamp light, she walked over to her bed and she got under the blankets, she laid there for a while on her back before she turned towards the window, the slight slither in between her curtains let her see the night sky. 'I'm starting to think... That Miss (L/N) might be in danger.' She thought as she pulled the covers closer to her chin. 'I just hope I'm wrong again.' She thought.

The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door

You laid in your bed, sleeping soundly, your blankets pushed off you in your sleep as you got hot, your shirt rolled up to your under breasts, Baki's dog has found himself to like your company so much that he actually sleeps in your bed with you, curled up to your side. Your room door was wide open, the house was dark but you could still see faintly. Next to your bed stood Baki, the same blank stare as he looked down on you, he was wearing his muscle shirt and pajama pants. His eyes studied your face, neck, breast, arms, stomach, crotch, thigh, legs, and feet. He leaned down till his nose was barely brushing against yours. "I'll always keep you safe, Mom... and I'll kill anyone who ever tries to separate us... we're meant to be together, forever." He whispered.

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 8

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 10.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues, canon typical violence* Jealousy, poor communication, arguing, poor decision making, violence, kidnapping, gun violence, murder, death. Summary: Upset with Javier and determined to do things your own way, the tension in the apartment propels you into a situation no one could have predicted. Notes: High violence warning this chapter! It's all canon-typical, but Narcos is a high-violence show. Please be advised that this chapter does contain multiple instances of gun use and gun violence. (As usual, I apologize for an errors I may have missed in editing.)

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

Because he asked you to keep an eye out, you don’t leave the apartment that day. Cooking in silence and sitting down with your notepad is the most you can manage for daily activity but it’s better than nothing. When you’re able to leave tonight you’ll be out there with fire in your heart.

Elisa hears you moving around in the kitchen, but when she comes out, you are already back in your bedroom. Unsure of why she feels a chill in the air, and wanting to apologize if she’s overstepping.

Chi-Chi hears her coming before you do, shifting over from her place on the bed to face the door when footsteps sound. “It’s not worth it, girl,” you murmur to the large dog. Even if you do appreciate the sentiment.

Biting her lip, Elisa reaches out to knock on the door before she pulls her hand back. Uncertain if she is imagining the frostiness. Or if it’s any of her business.

Can you keep an eye on her for me? Javier’s words ring in your head and almost make you so frustrated you decide to ignore the knock altogether, but you promised. You promised, and he’s…he is more to you than you are to him.

After a long moment of deliberation, you pat Chi-Chi’s back and get up.

She hears you move around and takes a step back from the doorway so she isn’t right in your face. Smiling politely when you open the door.

“Hi.” What else are you supposed to say to the woman unknowingly fucking your soulmate?

“Hi.” She is kind of stuck now and she gestures towards the kitchen. “I, uh, I didn’t know if you had anything in there that I shouldn’t touch?”

“No. Groceries are for everyone.” Everyone is really just two of you and one very spoiled dog, but you’re not about to get into semantics with her. All you’ll say, to keep further guilt at bay, is what’s necessary. “I promised Javier we would stay inside today. The only time I’ll leave is to walk the dog and even then I’ll stay right outside the windows.”

“Okay.” She nods, wondering when you two talked, but that’s not her business. “I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

“You surprised me last night.” It comes out of your mouth unbidden, blurted out into the tense silence between you almost like sick. “I didn’t know anyone else would be here.”

“I’m sorry.” She bites her lip and looks down the hallway uncomfortably. “It was sudden. I had to be taken somewhere safe and Connie suggested Javier. Since he works with Steve.”

“You know Connie and Steve?” That is news to you — Javier has never once offered for you to spend time with his partner and his wife, although you know their names from the embassy and stories. Then again, why would he offer?

She nods. “I worked with Connie at the clinic.” She admits. “That’s how we met.”

"That explains the scrubs." She's dressed in what must be her own clothes today. Presumably they were either washed and dried here in the apartment, or she hadn't been wearing them long enough yesterday for anything to get dirty.

“Yeah.” She looks down at her clothes and chuckles. “I didn’t have time to get anything.” She admits. “Connie said she would get me something to wear so I don’t have to just wear this.”

"She sounds like a nice woman." As opposed to you – even if this woman wouldn't be swimming in your clothes, you still wouldn't offer. Purely out of bitter jealousy.

“She is.” There’s something brittle in your tone and Elisa decides it’s best to end the conversation. “I’ll let you get back to…whatever it is you are doing.” She offers. “Uh, thanks for the information.”

"Help yourself to something to eat." There just isn't much else to say to her. If you let yourself say whatever pops into your head you might end up yelling and there's just no point in that. It's not her fault that you went and developed feelings for your soulmate. It's not her fault that you let your heart get in the way. "Javier usually works late, but he'll probably come back sooner since you're here."

“I doubt it.” She snorts and shrugs. “He’s not one to really be tied down, is he? He’s nice enough, but he’s not really a homebody, right?” She’s sure that plenty of women have paraded in and out of here.

"Not really." Not that you are, either. You wouldn't go so far as to claim that. But you wonder if she's fishing for reassurance, and can't stomach the idea of Javier deciding that she is worth coming home to instead of you. He might, though. He really might. "I'm sure once he finds the right person, that's all it will take."

She shrugs, knowing that it won’t be her. “Hopefully I’ll only be in your way for a few days.” She tells you.

"It will be whatever it will be." It isn't your call, after all. Whatever she's really doing here and whatever she is to Javier? Those things are between them. You're just his roommate. And that has never stung more than it does right now.

“That’s a nice outlook.” She licks her lips and wipes her hands on her pants. “Well, I’m going to get something to eat.”

"Okay." Considering this conversation has gone on far longer than you prefer, that is perfectly fine with you. "Just..." You may not like this woman, or the fact of her being here, but you're not cruel. "Don't eat what's in the white plastic container. That's Chi-Chi's food. You wouldn't like it very much."

She laughs, waving her hand appreciatively as she turns to walk down the hall. “Thanks!” She calls back.

“Sure.” You murmur at her back, thudding the door shut behind her, wishing you could have just ignored her existence altogether.

There’s something there. Elisa mulls it over as she goes through the cabinets and figures out something to eat. She just doesn’t know exactly what.

******

Chi-Chi is the first to sound the alarm when the front door opens in the late afternoon, though her barking turns to happy howls and a vibrant wagging of her tail when she sees Javier walk through the door instead of an intruder. The alert had brought you out of your bedroom though – with a paperweight in your hand to lob at any intruder who might dare to invade your space.

Instead, the sight of your soulmate makes your stomach turn. "You're home early."

Javi turns when he hears you, seeing the expression on your face and the paperweight in your hand. “Yeah.” He turns back to the door and locks it securely before looking back at you again. “Steve sent me home. Figured you’d babysat enough.”

"Good." Normally having some extra time in the apartment together would be cause for a homemade dinner and maybe even a movie, but you're loathe to suggest spending time together tonight. It simply isn't even worth considering. Instead, you shift the paperweight in your hands and your own weight from foot to foot. "I'll get ready and go work, then." You huff quietly, mostly at yourself. "Shift change."

“I don’t think you should go out tonight.” Javi has thought about how to approach it all day and he knows you won’t be happy about it. “But, if you have to go, let me send on of the SearchBloc with you.” It seemed like a good compromise, and since he couldn’t leave Elisa home alone, it was better than not having anyone with you. “Trujillo said he wouldn’t mind.”

While he isn't necessarily wrong to be concerned about safety in most of the city, the way your hackles raise at something you would otherwise consider a kind gesture is just...it is so indicative of your stubborn nature as much as your current heartache. "I don't need a babysitter," you tell him unilaterally. "That's apparently a service I provide, not something I need. Besides, I never even told you where I'm going tonight. For all you know I'm interviewing the ambassador in her ridiculous mansion."

He doesn’t know what burr is up your ass and he says as much. “Why are you being fucking difficult?” He hisses, narrowing his eyes at you in annoyance.

"Me?" That earns him a deep eye roll. "You're the one begging for favors and then trying to hinder my work with an asshole in a uniform. Do you know how hard it is to do my job with a cop standing over my shoulder? No one will talk to me."

“He can be discreet.” Javi tells you, knowing that the younger man would wear regular clothes if he told him too. “I would go myself, but-“ he gestures down the hall towards his room where Elisa most likely is.

"What makes you think I would bring you with me, either?" The paperweight in your hand thunks on the nearest flat surface with determination. "All of a sudden you give a shit what happens to me?"

He frowns at your venom, the bile that he hears. “What the hell is your problem?” He demands, getting pissed and glaring at you.

The truth of it is far too cutting, and the heat blasting in your fury keeps you from holding your tongue. "You." You spit back at him, before stalking down the hall and back into your room. There is goddamn work to do and you can't go out into Bogotá at night with tear streaks down your face looking like a mopey schlub. You have to get yourself the fuck together, and you definitely can't do that around Javier.

Javi stares after you, jumping slightly when you slam the door shut and blows out a frustrated sigh. You two had been getting along and now you had come back from your night out with an attitude that was almost worst than the one you had when you first met him. “Fuck.” He hisses under his breath.

"Javi?" Elisa is standing in the doorway of his room, having heard the commotion and stayed well out of harm's way.

“Hey.” He frowns, knowing that she had to have heard and he doesn’t have one damn clue on how to explain that. “Connie gave a bag of clothes to Steve.” He tells her, motioning to the bag he had dropped by the door.

"Thank you." The coast seems to be clear, and she comes out into the living room to retrieve the bag – but also you say hello. "Your roommate is..." She frowns, considering what words to use. "It seems safe to guess that she dislikes me."

“She was rude to you?” He frowns even more, sure you would have at least taken to her and interviewed her. You always ask about anyone involved in the case against Escobar and now you seem practically apathetic towards the best witness he has.

"No." Elisa shakes her head. Once she has picked up the duffel bag from the door, she leans into his side and presses a kiss to his cheek. "But being overly polite is sometimes worse and has more tension than anything else. We only spoke this morning."

He grunts and shakes his head. “She is being stubborn about something.” He doesn’t understand it, but you are a grown ass woman.

"I'm sorry if my being here has caused tension," she offers, not really sure what else to say.

“It’s not you.” He assures her, although he has no proof of that. But this isn’t her fault, no matter what. “Have you had dinner?”

"Not yet." Truth be told, she was waiting for him. For a touch of comfort and companionship. Fresh clothes, a good meal, and Javi will take care of all of those needs.

“Okay.” He nods. “I can order something to be delivered.” He orders with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Ah." She nods in understanding. "It's her cooking in the refrigerator. Not yours."

“Yeah.” He admits with a grin. “I can make you some eggs and toast. That’s about it. Or slap a sandwich together.”

"There is nothing wrong with a sandwich." Far be it from her to turn her nose up at any kind of food, really. She isn't a fussy or picky kind of woman. "What did your ambassador say?"

"It's going to take a day or so to get clearance," Javi admits. "But with the attack on the Palace, they want to get you to a safe location. One where you can't be touched by Escobar." He doesn't mention that the military is demanding to know who she is and interrogate her.

“I wish I could go back for some of my things,” Elisa admits, but she knows it isn’t possible. The target on her back is too large and too clear. “But thank you. When it is finally safe to come home again I might to thank you for that, as well.”

He knows what she means by thanking him and his cock twitches in his jeans, even as he is glancing down the hallway towards your room. “We can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

"Or perhaps when your roommate leaves." Elisa shrugs, not wanting to get into the complications of it. She will not be here for long and it is not her life. "You wanted dinner, I think?"

Grateful that the other woman in his life isn’t trying to argue with him, he nods. “Do you have something specific you want?” He offers, pulling out the take out menus.

"No, I'm flexible." She pauses, smirking at that, and catches Javi's eye to have him smirking, too. They had tested that fact very well yesterday.

He almost comments, but you open the door to the bedroom and come marching out. Javi looks down at the menus and grabs the one off the top. The Indian restaurant. “How about here?”

"Sure." She really doesn't mind much and it's clear that the tension in the apartment extends to him and doesn't simply emanate from you.

"I'm leaving." Wearing slightly more revealing clothing that you normally would and checking the purse you have stashed your notebook and a pen into along with your essentials, you breeze straight past them without looking around. "I might stay with Inez tonight." There are no more courtesies than that, no other explanations about where you're going or what you expect to do. Things that you might have told him if you weren't so pissed at yourself for expecting him to simply intuit the change in your feelings.

“Okay.” Javi frowns, wishing you would stop and talk to him, or at least take him up on his offer of Trujillo, but you just walk out the door. The silence lingers for a moment and Javi clears his throat. “Pour us a drink while I order, hm?”

"Sure." Elisa nods again and moves to the bar cart that Javi keeps in his living room. She has a feeling that he will need more than one, but that is up to him. "Whiskey?"

“Yeah.” He answers, picking up the receiver from the hook in the kitchen and dialing the restaurant. He doesn’t know what exactly to do, but he can only handle one problem at the time right now.

******

The night is oppressively hot and sticky, not yet cool enough to have brought the temperature down in the city and the warmth of so many people swirling through the busy streets as people go about their evening plans. Powered by frustration as much as anything else, you make your way through the streets on foot to catch a cab to your old neighborhood.

The cab driver asks if that is where you really want to go, shaking his head and sighing when you say yes and starts to drive cautiously towards the area of town that has grown increasingly violent.

The man you’re going to interview was displaced by the raid on the club just like you and Inez, with a similar situation of a landlord evicting their tenants and selling the property to get away from sicarios invading the neighborhood. He has promised a full interview with both him and his brother as anonymous sources, and suggested a semi-public place to meet. There are dangers, of course, there always are, but if you’re normally stubborn about things…Right now you’re downright blind to them.

The small café is around the corner from the old building the club used to be housed in. Rundown, one of the widows is boarded up from being shot out just two days ago. The waitress gives you a nervous look when you walk in the door.

“I’m meeting some friends,” you tell her politely, trying not to fidget in the clothes you picked for tonight. They’re not really not revealing but they’re more fashionable than you normally choose so you feel a bit like you’re on display. “Could I have a coffee please?”

“Sure.” She motions towards the empty tables, the seating area empty besides you. She can tell you are American and that makes her even more uncomfortable.

Convincing yourself that the tension in the air is you projecting your own emotions on the place, you sit and sip your coffee with one eye on the door. Everything is fine. You’re just upset and it’s making you prickly.

The cook in the back slips outside, unobserved by you and the waitress taps nervously on the counter as she waits for something to happen.

Five minutes click by. Then ten. Your coffee wasn’t the best but you know you’re a snob about it so you don’t say anything to the anxious-looking waitress. It isn’t until the door open again and a short man with thick, dark hair walks in wearing the promised blue linen shirt and denim jacket that you show any interest in anything whatsoever.

His eyes find you in the corner with your back to the kitchen and he plasters a smile on his face as he walks over to you. Saying your name for confirmation, to make sure that it’s you. As though there is anyone else in this seedy little café to be confused for.

“Is your brother not able to join us?” Enrique has turned up alone with a cigarette behind his ear and a friendly smile. “Join me. Have a seat.”

“He will be here.” Enrique promises, smirking slightly as he pulls out a chair and flops down into it opposite you. “Had to do something first.” He looks around and notices that you don’t seem to have anyone with you. “You came alone?”

“The nature of what we have to talk about is relatively private.” Hence the cafe — deserted aside from its employees, although you were bolstered to see the large window through to the kitchen, ensuring more than just the waitress for witnesses.

He nods and plucks the cigarette out from behind his ear and produces a lighter from a pocket of his jacket. “Figured you would have that DEA agent with you.” He comments as he blows out the first puff of smoke.

“…What DEA agent?” You hadn’t said a word about Javier in your phone call with this man, and suddenly the tense air in the cafe goes from thick to oppressive. All it takes is an instant and you’re wondering if you can get to the door before the man twice your height can block the way.

“The one who has been passing the word that the American woman journalist looking for an apartment is under his protection.” He continues conversationally and points at you with the cigarette between his fingers. “That is you, no?”

You’re going to fucking kill him. You’re going to tear Javier Peña a new asshole the second you get home tomorrow. He blew your fucking credibility that bastard! “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You manage to lie without stammering or sounding fearful. For that, you will reward yourself later. With rum. “I have a place and I certainly don’t work with the DEA.”

“Yes, you do.” He smiles, a thin stretch of his lips that has lost the charm from earlier. “Someone wants to meet you.”

The front door is probably no more than twelve feet away. The door to the kitchen is only five or six, but you would have to wind through the whole thing blindly to find the exit, and potentially give this stranger the opportunity of pick up a weapon. The front door is the cleanest choice. You remember the way to the nearest busy neighborhood center from here and at this time of day you can blend into the crowds making their way into bars and clubs. That will give you enough time to duck into a bathroom and get another cab.

In the split second it takes you to make all of these plans, you wrap your wrist in the chain of your purse under the table and move your feet as subtly as you possibly can. Using the bottom of the booth to push off like a runner in the Olympics, you sprint for the door.

Only to find the way blocked as soon as you reach the frame.

Grabbing your arms, his ‘brother’ grins as you as he holds you. “You don’t want to leave, do you?” He tsks and Enrique laughs. “Pablo would be so disappointed.”

Pablo.

“I can’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know.” That, at least, is true. Your job is only to gather information and report. The information that he is putting out into the world. Him and his sicarios — the misery and mayhem that they reap.

“He can be the one who decides that.” You are turned from the door, a gun in Enrique’s hand now. Pointed at you. “Let’s go. Out the back.”

You don’t need to glance at the bar to know the waitress is gone, and you don’t need to even think twice to know that you are not going home or to Inez’s tonight. In fact, you’re probably not going home ever again. If you’re lucky, they’ll just kill you outright is all you can think, with the imagine of Helena’s nearly comatose body in your head.

One foot in front of the other, you are marched through the abandoned coffee shop and out through the kitchen, where the only employee pays you no mind whatsoever and another man is sitting in the driver’s seat of a car. The puddle of white fabric in the dirt might be an apron, you can’t tell.

“The trunk.” The motion of the gun guides you to the back of the car and he smirks when you try to push back against the man behind you. “Don’t make it harder. He said we had to get you to him, not what condition you had to be in.”

“There’s no reason for him to waste so much effort on me,” you repeat, annoyed when your own not inconsiderable strength does nothing to help you.

Both men chuckle and your hands are bound behind your back. “It’s no effort at all.” Enrique taunts. “You came like a lamb to the slaughter.”

It's insulting how true that assessment is, and even more insulting when the two men shove you into the trunk of the car and slam it shut while laughing to each other in Spanish, as if you don't understand them perfectly. The slamming doors rock the car, and the movement of the two large men settling into seats shifts you back and forth even more, but it doesn't matter.

Your hands have been duct taped so thoroughly that even your fingers are bunched together and your eyes aren't adjusting to the darkness of the trunk like you expected them to. Trying to compensate for your lost and muddled senses makes paying attention to the car's twists and turns very difficult, and even though you know this neighborhood you lose track of the route you've driven after about ten minutes.

That would be bad enough on its own, but then the driving doesn't stop. Deep potholes jolt you violently hour after hour until you've managed to bite your lip and tongue bloody from the way the car bounces and your head has hit the top or bottom of the trunk just hard enough that you're wondering if you might have a slight concussion from it.

But hour after hour, it never stops and the car never slows.

It’s only when you’ve completely lost track of what time it is, and fell asleep a few times that the car stars to slow down. Creeping along for a few minutes before finally stopping. Arriving at your destination.

The stopping is what wakes you, as cars open and close and the vehicle jostles multiple times. Voices raise outside the trunk, muffled but audible. When the key turns in the lock and the trunk is flung open, your intention to throw yourself off the floor of the thing and lash out with feet if nothing else, is abruptly squashed by the fist that comes down on your cheek. You see the outside world just long enough to know that it's near sunrise when a cloth bag is put over your head and you're manhandled out of the trunk back onto your feet.

Two different pairs of hands grab at you. Shoving you along and when you struggle, one of them punches you in the stomach and makes you double over, gasping for air. “Move, bitch!” It’s not Enrique’s voice this time, but the tone is evil. The voice of a man who has no sympathy in his entire body for anyone.

It feels like they intentionally trip you on a short flight of stairs, pulling you up again by your armpits when you stumble and fall, landing on stone not just once or twice but three times. From the way your shins sting and ache, you've got a few cuts and will have throbbing muscles in no longer than an hour from now. If you even make it another hour. The possibility that you won't is unnervingly real.

“Sit her down.” The voice comes from your left, the order in Spanish and there is the slight sound of a disappointed sigh. “What have I told you about kidnapping women?” The voice says. “You treat them with respect.”

"American pig." Sneers one of the other voices that you don't recognize. If you can figure out who it is later on – and if your mouth is ever untaped – you'll spit right in his eye.

“But a valuable one.” There’s the sound of footsteps and the scrapping of a chair as one is dragged closer to where you are standing. “Remove the bag.”

The fabric is ripped from your head, definitely taking some hair with it, and suddenly you become sharply aware that you're facing east. Sunrise is blinding you so badly that you have to flinch away and let your eyes adjust. Which means it's almost a full minute of standing there before you realize that Pablo Escobar is the figure outlined by the rising run.

Your full, government name is said, leaving no doubt that the biggest drug lord in Colombia knows who you are. They had gone through your purse on the way here, but that’s not the point. “Please, sit.” Pablo offers, motioning to the chair in front of you.

For the rest of your life, regardless of how long that is, you're going to be proud of yourself for not immediately pissing yourself in fear at the sight of him. He's nothing special. Not really. A mid-height chubby man with curly hair and an unfortunate mustache. He looks very...disarmingly...normal. But this ruthless murderer is not to be underestimated.

So you sit.

“Ah.” Pablo smiles, the gesture meant to be disarming and charming. “And they say Americans are stubborn.” The men around him chuckle but he keeps his eyes on you. “Forgive our manners.” He tells you, not really meaning it. “I’m afraid that it has become harder to talk to the people I need to now.”

The irony does not escape you, and you shoot him a look that says I can't talk to anyone at all right now while momentarily slipping your grip on the fact that this situation is deadly serious. Thankfully, the man laughs and waves one hand, which one of his armed flunkies takes as a direction to come over and rip the duct tape off of your mouth.

Pablo watches as you hiss in pain and move your jaw around. “There. Now we can talk.” He pulls out a cigarette and lights it. “What is your connection to the DEA?”

"I have none." That hasn't stopped being true – or mostly true – just because they drove you out of the city and out to what looks like one of Pablo's mansions.

“Then why was a DEA agent saying he as protecting you?” He snaps his fingers at one of this men. “What was the asshole’s name?”

"Peña." Supplies Enrique. Or, the man who told you that his name was Enrique.

Fucking hell. Why did soulmate have to be such a meddler?

"I don't know why he said that," you answer honestly. Mostly because it doesn't make any fucking sense to you but also because you really don't know his logic.

“Is he fucking you?” Pablo drags his eyes up and down your body. You aren’t bad, but you are thicker than he likes. Tata would like you though.

"No." To date, Javier Peña has never even hugged you or any much physical contact with you at all. Which is what makes his claims of protection so aggravating. It's like it's a performance on his part.

“And you are a journalist?” He asks, tilting his head as he wonders why the DEA agent is interested in protecting someone that he isn’t fucking.

"Yes." If he knows your name and he knows who Javier is, then he already knows that. There's no point is denying it when he basically catfished you with a phony story for your column.

He takes another drag off his cigarette and slowly exhales the smoke. Considering his options and then nodding. “You will interview me.” He decides, smirking slightly at his genius idea.

"Excuse me?" The idea of it takes you so off guard that you just stare at him for a moment, but he looks so fucking pleased with himself and is already motioning around to his men and issuing rapid fire orders. Someone is to bring him a chair. Someone else a drink. A third person is sent to fetch his breakfast. Still another is waved inside to check on Tata. You're fairly certain he didn't even hear your confusion over his own self-satisfaction, but you manage to cut through the noise of movement with your second thought. "I'll need my hands for that. To take notes."

“Bring a notepad and a pencil!” Pablo shouts after the men, cursing when he realizes that no one else is here to cut you loose. “You try to run and I will put a bullet in your head.” He tells you casually as he pulls out his gun and shows it to you. “Then I will have my men in America kill your family. Understand?”

Your family. The thought of Escobar sending goons to carry out hits on your mother and your brothers terrifies you far more than anything he could do to you, and you nod once. "I understand."

“Good.” He gives you that charming smile again, but his eyes are watchful, calculating. “Then you will write the story and tell the real truth about what is happening here.”

It's an odd and sickening guarantee. You will live long enough to write your article. To carry his words to the world. Whether or not they let you live longer is up in the air and highly improbable – but if you can drag this out a little you might be able to figure out how to survive. Attempting an escape seems like a surefire way to get his sicarios sent after your family, and you aren't willing to take the chance he may not be bluffing about having that ability.

The men return, another chair and a table being brought in. Notepad with several sharpened pencils are slapped down on it. One cold coke in a glass bottle, obviously not for you, and then a bottle of water that might be for you are also added.

You're careful not to look anywhere but at your hands in front of you, somehow convinced that making eye contact with any of these people will end in violence. On Escobar's orders your legs are tightly tied to the chair and the tape is cut from your hands. There is no way you're going anywhere, but at least you can flex your fingers and feel the blood flow return to them.

"Where do you want to be begin?" Pablo asks curiously before he turns in his own seat and berates one of his sicarios for not bringing an ashtray to the table.

"Well..." Reaching for the notepad and a pencil with tentative hands, you flip open to the first page and instinctively date the top line. Swallowing is a dry and hazy endeavor but you manage to remind yourself to breathe. "Let's start with your full name and where we are." The more corroborating information that you can get, the better. Maybe after the article is done and Escobar inevitably has you shot, the work will still help convict him somehow.

"Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria." He announces his name dramatically and with a slight hint of theatrical flair. He is vain enough to know that most people, even Americans, recognize his name. What he craves is respectability. "We are in—" He tilts his head and smirks slightly at the attempt to get information from him on your location. "Colombia."

"You don't have to give me the longitude and latitude." You're not dumb enough to think wherever you are actually has an address. "But...in general. Are we at your home? A safe house? The home of a business associate?"

His brows furrow in anger, his jaw tightening. "In hiding." He spits, sneering at the mere thought of the indignity. "Because of your fucking DEA."

"That must be very hard for you." The top of the page is marked out with the date and the name of your subject, and from there your pencil flies across the pages. Taking down direct quotes from both Escobar and you – questions and answers exactly as they're said. Your training is kicking in despite the fear. Writing in shorthand ensures that you can actually get everything down without having to pause in the conversation and ruin the flow. "To have to hide with your family when you are also working to be a community leader?" He did run for office, after all. You aren't leading him fruitlessly.

"Why does America care about me?" Pablo demands. "I am a businessman." He stresses, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray and shaking his head. "I care about Colombia. But you are here, for me. Your DEA is here, for me." He shrugs. "Why do you care?"

"Your business has made it all the way to America." Calling it a business makes your skin crawl, but following his proverbial scent and the thread of the narrative he wants you to tell for him matters. "We are always interested to know about the people who bring their business to our country."

"Then ask me what you want to know." He offers.

The situation is so loaded from every angle that you almost don't know where to start. The drugs, the smuggling, the international reach of his enormous illicit business dealings. His family. His public image. You might be the only American reporter to ever get to sit down with the world's most infamous drug lord and squandering that opportunity is basically a waste of the end of your life – since you really are sure you won't make it out of this place alive.

"Start at the beginning," you offer, starting a new line in the notebook you've been given. It's a miracle that your hand isn't shaking too badly to write, but you're not going to question it. "When you started this business, what did you hope to achieve?"

“Support my family.” Pablo tilts his head, surprised by the question. “My mamá had this couch. Worn, broken.” He snorts. “It was a piece of shit. I wanted to buy her a new couch. To buy her things she sacrificed having raising me.”

“With a worldwide business, would you say that you have now achieved that goal?” The longer you can keep him talking, you decide, the better. The more he will feel you have become sympathetic to him. The more likely he is to perceive you as friendly and slip on something. Something seemingly insignificant that can be used against him somehow. You have to try. You have to try.

“Perhaps.” Pablo shrugs slightly. “Visions change. Goals broaden.” He crushes out the cigarette and picks up the Coke bottle to twist the lid off the drink to take a swallow.

“You have goals for more than just your family now?” He must, considering her ran for office, but you’re willing to pick up any thread he gives you.

“I want to be involved in politics.” Pablo admits, his expression tight. “I would be good at it.”

“Tell me what happened,” you prompt. Just breathe. Keep him talking. You’ll find the angle eventually and some tidbits along the way. “In your own words.”

Pablo starts to weave a tale of honorable intentions derailed by jealousy and a corrupt system that would not let him come to power. Finishing his coke during the long-winded story as you write notes.

If you had been asked what you expected to hear, this would be something close to it. A man who saw himself as a savior being thwarted at every turn, his good intentions stagnated time and time again. He truly must have no idea how bloviated with arrogance he sounds. How self-absorbed and self-righteous. How delusional.

The article he wants you to write and the one that you’ll print if you ever survive this horror show are two very different beasts.

“We should have a recorder.” Pablo frowns as he thinks of it, snapping his fingers at the man that is guarding the door.

Anything he wants is available to him at the snap of two fingers from either a man who looks terrified to misstep, or a man who looks smugly confident of his own self-importance. The juxtaposition is stark, but the ones who do the scurrying and fetching are the terrified ones.

“Thank you.” Even in your own anxieties and fears, somewhere in your mind you’re convinced that good manners might buy you a little more time. “This will be very helpful.”

“I would hate for the story to be misquoted.” Pablo muses, although his brow arches up. “Smoke?” He offers, holding out the pack as he waits for the machine to be brought in.

The idea of accepting anything from this absolute insect of a human being is repulsive and you almost can't even stomach it. But there is a solid chance that if you don't take the offering he'll be offended, and that could end in your end. More plainly put? You're not going to take the chance that Escobar will be so mad you rejected his 'gift' that he kills you for it. So you say yes and manage to even sound grateful through the strain of a dry throat and however many hours you were jostling around in that car.

He shakes out a cigarette for you to take and even pulls out his own zippo to light it. Flicking the striker even as he growls to the other man about what is taking so fucking long with the recorder.

For the first time in all of this, the thought in your head is wondering what Javier would think if he could see this now – and not in an angry and cursing sort of way. Just in the way where you are absolutely bewildered with every new moment of this.

And then suddenly, as Escobar is cursing out his men for taking too long, you know exactly what you're going to do. The chances of your surviving this are low. Infinitesimally low. And the notebook that you're writing in is entirely in shorthand. Unless one of Escobar's henchmen has studied to be a secretary at an American college, they're not going to be able to read your notes. Maybe that was folly, maybe it was just ingrained habit.

Either way, it is going to let you fill this notebook full. Two articles – one that Escobar will approve of and one that tells the entire truth of your kidnapping and everything you witness while in this compound.

So even though you won't make it out, there is at least a chance that the truth will survive you.

Waiting makes Pablo Escobar angry. He’s not a man who enjoys waiting for things. Especially when it appears to make him lose face in front of an American Journalist. Picking up the water bottle, he hurls it at the other man in the room. “Hurry the fuck up!”

A man skitters into view a minute later with a tape recorder in his hands, begging forgiveness and practically tripping over his own two feet to place the recorder on the table. A split second before it is fully set down, you realize with horror that there is no cassette tape inside.

It takes him two seconds, two bone chilling- heart stopping seconds. The fierce glare on his face is cruel, almost demonic. Pablo pulls out his gun as the man starts to back up, holding his hands in front of him. “Boss- boss, please-“ Escobar doesn’t give mercy, pulling the trigger three times and shooting the man down right in front of you.

Your heart stops. Breath catching in your lungs and blood running cold in your veins. And then your stomach lurches, revolting on you, and the only saving grace of the moment as you fall forward and dry heave in your seat is that there is nothing left in your stomach to actually empty out.

Pablo watches you retch as he puts his gun away. “He was disappointing.” He explains casually, not mentioning that the man had fucked up numerous times before.

Another man appears moments later with a new bottle of cold water to replace the broken one, and a fresh tape. He unwraps it from its plastic and plunks it down beside the machine without sparing you even a glance, but you don't care. You can't even process anything else. You had managed to make it this far in life without seeing anyone die, let alone be murdered in cold blood. But you can't say that anymore.

"I hope," you manage, feeling your throat croak and ache. "For everyone's sake, that no one else disappoints you."

Your pencil flies automatically, like some kind of ingrained reflex or biological imperative that operates entirely outside of your personal horror at the situation. It helps ground you, reminding you of the unyielding truth of this moment: that these horrors are, at their core, so deeply and terribly human. When you can breathe another steady breath, you reach for the tape recorder to hit the record and play buttons. “Let’s continue,” you manage, knowing how shaky your voice will sound on that tape.

“Perhaps I should start again?” Pablo asks, watching dispassionately as another couple of his men come into the room to drag out the body.

“For the record.” Speaking as clearly as you can into the tape recorder, you state your name — No use in pretending he doesn’t know it, he’s said it before. Even your middle name. — and the date. “Interview conducted in private at subject’s request.” It’s pure professionalism. Every single step meant to ensure that he believes you are taking him seriously. “The first part of this interview was taken by shorthand notes by the reporter.” Polite. Always polite. Looking back up at him and somehow managing not to flinch, you motion to the recorder. “Please state your name for the tape, as you have already done for my notes, and anything you would like to repeat. Then we will continue.”

He goes through the major points again, sending you a pleased smile when he comes back to the point where you had left off. “Now. We will talk business.” He nods.

“What kind of business would you like to talk?” He’s in the driver’s seat of this interview, after all. You’re just holding on for dear life.

“The kind that brought you to Colombia to write about me.” He smirks and picks up another cigarette.

******

It is a whole twenty-four hours after you are supposed to arrive at her apartment that Inez decides to call. She would have sooner but – as you always say – life happens and she just assumed that you had decided to go home again despite being annoyed with your Javier. Now that she is finally able to pick up the phone and call your apartment, she's wondering how you are feeling after your interview. If you got anything worth while out of the brothers who had contacted you.

Javi had been expecting a phone call from Steve, staying with Elisa today since you had decided not to come home. So when the phone rings in the apartment, he picks it up. “What have you learned?” He asks immediately.

"Um...hello?" Inez's voice fills with a frown. "Is this Javier?"

A woman’s voice. Javi rolls his eyes slightly as he tries not to sigh. He feels like he’s in a version of hell concerning the opposite sex. “Yes?” He asks, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Who is this?”

“My name is Inez.” In an instant she understands why you’re constantly so annoyed with this guy. He’s snappy and huffy on the phone, which means he probably doesn’t have much better manners in person. But the warm depth of his voice is nice. “I was calling for your roommate,” she tells him, adding your name in case he doesn’t remember who mentioning her to him in the past.

Javi pauses, frowning and his brow furrowing together. “You’re the bartender from where she used to live?” He asks, prompting her to confirm. “She’s not home. I guess she hasn’t made it back from your place.” He twists his head to look at the clock on the wall. “I’ll let her know when she gets in.” He doesn’t even want to unpack why it was so easy to say ‘home’ where you are concerned.

“She didn’t come home last night?” Inez’s voice is immediately tense.

“She….said she was staying at your place.” Javi’s gut curls, the warning bells starting to ring in the back of his mind. “What time did she leave?” You were angry enough that you might have gone to a bar and went home with someone, or went to the brothel. So the panic starting to creep into his veins could be completely unwarranted.

“She…never came over.” The sickening feeling of panic in her chest tightens and makes her stomach flip.

“What the fuck do you mean she never came over?” Javi growls, gripping the receiver tight in his fist.

“I figured she went home after the interview!” Inez defends, startled by his tone. “I was calling to check on her!”

“She hasn’t been back.” Javi breaks off in a string of curses. “Give me your number, I’ll call you back.”

Quickly rattling off a string of numbers, Inez takes no offense when he slams down the receiver afterward without saying goodbye. She’s shaken and fearful, left sitting on her couch wondering what the fuck happened, and wondering if she should call Vanessa.

As soon as Javi slams down the phone, he is picking it up again, calling Vanessa. Trying to ignore the way his fingers shake as he punches the buttons.

“Hello?” Vanessa’s voice is bright and cheery when she picks up her private line.

“Vanessa, please tell me that—” Javi says your name almost desperately, “came over and is still with you or Freckles? Or fuck, any of the girls?”

“What?” Vanessa frowns immediately. Javi never sounds scared or panicked unless there is a very good reason. And right now he sounds both. “No. I don’t think so? Hold on.” Freckles is there in the room with her, having just finished with a particularly irksome client. “You haven’t seen our girl lately, have you?” She asks over the receiver.

“No.” Freckles shakes her head, barely glancing up from her magazine. “Not for a little while now.” She tilts her chin at the phone. “Is that Javi?”

“Yeah.” Vanessa nods while her own frown forms and she readjusts the phone on her shoulder. “She’s not here, Javi.”

“Goddamnit.” Javi hisses, shoving a hand through his hair. “If she shows up, call me!” He demands before he is slamming the phone down so he can call Steve. You’re missing and there’s the small issue of the fact that you are his fucking soulmate.

The phone line rings twice before it’s picked up, making the world feel like it’s moving in slow motion around him. “Murphy.” His partner drawls on the other end by way of greeting.

“I’ve got a problem.” Javi spits out.

“So do we all, Peña.” Steve chuckles on his end of the call. “Something new, I take it?”

“I don’t have time for your bullshit.” Javi hisses and says your name. “The journalist? The one that lives with me? She’s fucking missing.”

“Shit.” Steve sits up in his seat, alarmed at Javi’s tone. “How long?” An American tourist going missing in Bogotá is bad enough — but one living with a DEA agent? That shit would be like catnip to sicarios.

“She left last night to go interview someone, I don’t know if she ever made it there.” Javi admits, blowing out a sigh. “I tried to get her to take Trujillo but she wouldn’t.”

“Where was the interview?” Steve asks, pulling out a notebook to start taking notes.

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Javi should have asked Inez if she knew anything more, but he had been frazzled and not thinking. “I’m assuming her old neighborhood.”

“Shit.” More emphatic this time, Steve rubs His hand across his forehead and reaches to grab his jacket. This has officially become a situation. “Is there someone she would have told? Or does she keep notes somewhere in the apartment?”

“I don’t know.” Javi shakes his head. “She has a friend. Inez. She was supposed to meet her after and she had told me she was going to stay with her last night. Inez called me just a few minutes ago asking about her.” He rattles off the phone number. “Get her in to go over any fucking detail she can remember. I’m going to search her room.”

"Copy that." Steve hangs up without preamble and then immediately picks up his phone again. It's a whirl of activity as he drops his jacket, dials the number he wrote down – all the while wondering what it is about this woman that has his partner so knotted up as to actually sound scared on the phone.

Javi hangs up and immediately bolts down the hall to your bedroom. The panic he’s swallowing covers up any hesitation for imposing on your private space. He starts at the shelf closest to your door and starts searching methodically.

Things are fairly well organized in your room. The small closet is full of clothes with shoes lined up in a row on the floor and your suitcase stashed up on the top shelf. Two other, clearly empty bags are beside it and even though those bags are all empty, they're still the first things he goes through. The shoe box on the end of the shelf comes down with a clatter, revealing nothing more consequential than a collection of knick-knacks all tagged with the date and location of your purchase, and a name – small mementos of Colombia that are meant to be brought home with you later as gifts.

If he was trying to get a sense of you as a person, this would be a treasure trove of information. But none of this helps him find you. Not until he finds the matchbook for a small café. It’s one he swears that you’ve mentioned several times and there’s a good chance that you might have stopped by there or maybe even tried to set up your interview there as a neutral setting. It’s better than nothing and he shoves the matches in his pocket as he continues to search.

The small table at your bedside holds a leather notebook and a copy of Gabriel García Márquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude, stacked one on top of the other beside the photo of your family and a half-drunk glass of water. Even the bureau on the wall opposite your bed is tidy, with a tray of makeup and other beauty products laid out carefully beside your small jewelry box.

Surrounded by your belongings, those things most intimate to you, Javi starts to panic. The fear started to set in, as he reaches for the hairbrush that you have lying on the dresser. “Fuck.” He hisses, nearly picking it up and throwing it through the mirror, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He can’t do this right now. Not when you could be in danger and every minute that passes without knowing where you are, that possibility increases one hundred fold.

"Javier?" Elisa's voice comes from the hallway, nervous and quiet but still loud enough for him to hear. "What happened?"

Turning his head where he was staring at your make up, he sees Elisa hovering in the doorway. “I’ve got to go.” Javi decides, unable to stay here and wait. Not when you might be in trouble. “Stay here. Lock the fucking door.” He tells her and pushes away from the dresser to get the backup gun out for her. “Shoot anyone who doesn’t belong if they come through that door.”

"Be safe." She says after a moment's pause. Whatever is going on, it is clearly dire and he is upset, so she simply takes the gun and bolts the door behind him when he bolts out of it like a rocket.

He had his cell phone and he’s immediately calling Steve back, rushing to his vehicle. “I’ve got a possible lead.” He tells him. “Café near the nightclub.”

"Address?" Steve stands and grabs his jacket, ripped his note page off of the pad he had been scribbling on while talking to Inez. "The bartender didn't know a location but had the names of the men she was meeting with. Might be pseudonyms but it's a start."

“Goddamnit.” Javi slams the door of the jeep and slaps the steering wheel. “I don’t fucking like this!” He hisses. “She needs to be found right now!”

Steve smothers a groan, hightailing it through the halls of the embassy on his way out the door. "I know she's a missing civilian but I always thought this woman pissed you off to no end. You're acting like the sky is falling."

Javi doesn’t have an answer for him right now. Growling down the line. “Hurry the fuck up.” He snarls before he ends the call and peels away from the curb.

******

The cafe is just as decrepit as he feared it would be, and while the block is deserted that could either be a good thing or a very bad one. The only person in sight is the woman in all black wearing a half apron smoking a cigarette by the front door, but that's a start.

Javi walks up to the woman and pulls out a pack of cigarettes to take one out. She seems like she’s someone who’s seen plenty. “Busy day?” The fact that he’s as calm as he is remains a surprising miracle, but he’s hoping he might get some information out of her casually.

She snorts, exhaling smoke from her last drag and waving her hand dismissively. “Never.”

Javi hums, flicking open his lighter and bringing the flame to the end of the cigarette. “How about last night?” He asks after the first puff, slipping the zippo into his pocket and watching her carefully.

“Never.” She repeats, but mostly in a bored way. Most of the men who come through here on business aren’t nearly this handsome, and she’s bored to tears. She doesn’t mind having a chat. Just as long as he doesn’t ask too many questions.

Javi pulls the cigarette from his mouth and flicks the ashes away from her. “Friend of mine told me about this place.” He lies. “Said she was coming here last night.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” She lies, just as easily. Though her lips flatten and she takes a longer drag from the cigarette to finish it faster. The only woman who came through last night was the one Esteban and Manuel came for.

“I’m sure she said this was the place.” He looks around the front again and then back at her. “American, curvy.”

The woman’s shoulders tense and her stomach revolts, and she quickly stubs out her cigarette. “No Americans.” She insists, as though she were stating a policy and not panicking. This man knows something.

She springs up from her perch on the stoop and Javi lunges forward, grabbing her arms and spinning her around to face the wall and yanking her arms behind her back. “Where is she?” He shouts.

“Who?!” The waitress cries out, shoulder pushed firm against the stone building. She’s been warned to keep her mouth shut enough times that she is going to play dumb with this Americano. The sicarios who own her apartment building have made it clear that her daughter’s life is at stake if she doesn’t. “I don’t know what you mean!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Javi hisses, pulling back slightly and pushing her up against the building harder. He pins her with his weight and reaches for the cuffs tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. “The journalist! She was here!”

The sound of car tires screeching to a halt only adds to the chaotic atmosphere, and Steve Murphy is jumping out of his car practically before it has come to a complete stop. “What the fuck is going on?” He demands, seeing Javi about ready to drag this woman off to prison. “You find something out?”

Steve’s talking in English, and this woman doesn’t seem to understand him. “She’s lying. She knows something!” Javi tells Steve as he slams her against the wall again. “Tell me!” He roars in Spanish at her and spins her around to see the fury in his eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Steve hisses, pulling his partner back from the woman he has slammed against the wall. Javier’s managed to get the cuffs on her and she looks as confused and terrified as he does furious. “She told you she doesn’t know shit and you’re mad about it? Is that what’s going on here?”

“She’s fucking lying!” Javi growls as he pushes back, getting up in Steve’s face. Glaring at him before he turns back to the woman and switches back to Spanish. “I will kill you before the sicario’s can touch you.” He warns her. “She’s a DEA agent’s soulmate.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” The hammer of understanding lands swiftly on Steve’s brow, and he’s not proud of the extra two seconds it takes him to collect his jaw off the ground before he can step in to pry Peña’s hands off the woman. He knows the word for soulmate in Spanish. Connie had learned it and was starting to use it as a cute pet name. “I’m putting her in the fucking car and you’re going calm the fuck down!” He orders his partner, pointing one finger firmly in Javi’s direction as he shoves the suspect in the direction of his car.

Javi doesn’t want to let her go, but he doesn’t have much of a choice when Steve pushes him off again. Swiping his hand through his hair and blowing out a breath as he paces on the sidewalk.

In the time it takes Steve to wrestle the woman into the backseat of his car in her handcuffs and lock her in, Javi is prowling the sidewalk like a caged panther. “Your fucking soulmate?” Steve asks, the second he’s up on the pavement with his partner again. “That’s why you’ve lost your goddamn mind?”

“Don’t you even fucking lecture me.” Javi grabs Steve’s jacket and shakes him slightly. “You would tear Colombia apart if something happened to Connie.”

“Of course I would!” There is no doubt about that and Steve doesn’t even try to deny it for a moment. “But if you had told me who the fuck were we looking for we would have been out here straight a-fucking-way!”

Javi pauses, clarity breaking through his anger. He had never told Steve what you were - are - to him. That’s his fault. He lets go of him and frowns. “She needs to talk.” He tells him. “She was here, I know it.” He doesn’t know how he knows it, but it was the exactly type of place you would have set up an interview.

Steve searches his face, looking for signs of anything besides the obvious fear and concern, and when he comes up short he nods. “Okay.” He agrees, still standing between his partner and the car. “But after we interrogate her you’re telling me everything, got it? Otherwise I’m not gonna be any good to you on this search.”

“You won’t like it.” Javi promises, looking back at woman in the car. “I’m calling Carillo.”

“Let’s get the band back together.” Steve agrees. This just became about a hell of a lot more than a missing journalist.

______

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