#also danny has self esteem issues

[teruel-a-witch]

danny before an undercover op: i know you have trouble controlling yourself, ha ha, so just don't fall in love with me (oh please do)

steve: won't be a problem, don't worry :p (i've been in love with you forever and always controlled myself just fine :/)

danny: oh ... that's exactly what i wanted to hear (: (of course someone like him won't fall for someone like me 😔)

[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.”

------

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo @missladym1981 @alexiamargot06 @southernbe @cloudroomblog @the-queen-of-sorrows

[clockwayswrites]

Not Exactly Cinderella Part 2

Part 1

WC: 818

“You have a thing for black hair and blue eyes, huh?” Dick teased, looking at the guy that Wally had pointed out. He laughed as Wally slapped his shoulder for the comment. “What? I’m not complaining. And you’re right, he does have a cute smile.”

Wally just blushed again.

“Well, come on, I think that most of my official duties are done. Let’s go see what he’s like,” Dick said, heading back towards the stairs.

“What if he’s a jerk?” Wally asked.

“Then we just move on and go find someone else to talk to,” Dick answered easily. “This isn’t a mission or anything, Walls, if you don’t click you don’t click. You can think his smile is cute and not want to do anything with him.”

Wally sighed, though, rather than being comforted by that.“You keep talking like he’ll want to do something with me.”

Dick stopped them at the bottom of the stairs, tugging them to the side. He knew he probably looked a little worried, but he couldn’t help it. No, of course he could fake it, he was a damn Bat, but he didn’t want to. Wally deserved to know that he was bothered by this. If Dick had known that Wally was having these self esteem issues, he would have done something earlier.

Wally deserved to know how amazing he was.

“If he doesn’t want you, it will because he’s straight or not into quick romance or doing something physical,” Dick said. “Or because he’s insane and doesn’t like red heads. Never trust someone who doesn’t like red heads.”

Wally rolled his eyes but he looked more relaxed. “Just because you have a thing for red heads…”

“Walls, sweetheart, you’re amazing. You’re smart and funny and fun. And you’re pretty damn hot too between the red hair and adorable freckles and your runner’s body. If he’s not into you there could be reasons for it, but it’s not because you aren’t an amazing catch.”

Wally let out a breath of air and nodded. “Okay. Sure. I mean, I don’t agree but sure. Let’s go talk to him.”

“Great!” Dick said with a grin. He took Wally’s hand but dropped it as they got closer to their target. The guy must have taken a break from his last discussion and was over to the side with a fresh drink in hand. Dick detoured them briefly to get drinks also; it was important for everyone to feel like they were on the same social page. They settled near the other as if taking a break from the crowd themselves.

“Enjoying the evening?” Dick asked, drawing the strangers blue eyes to them.

Oh, fuck, more adorable freckles.

“You know, I actually am,” he said, seeming surprised by that. As an after thought he held out his hand. “Oh, sorry, I’m Danny.”

Not a socialite if he was leaving off the last name. That was a positive.

“Dick,” he said, shaking the offered hand before backing off. “And this is Wally.”

“Nice to meet you,” Danny said, as he shook Wally’s hand. “You two having a good night?”

“Mostly. We’re finally where we can relax and talk to who we want to, which is nice. Wally here always has to track down the other scientists at these things,” Dick answered for them, pleased when Danny perked up at that.

“Are you scientist?” Danny asked

“Chemist, mostly material sciences but some organic too,” Wally said with a slightly bashful little smile. “You?”

“Bimolecular and biomedical engineering,” Danny said.

At least Dick would have an easy excuse to duck out when the conversation got too technical for him.

“Did they do the same thing with you and keep trying to make you pick one?”

Danny laughed and gave a little shrug. Dick could tell Wally almost swooned at the sound— not that Dick could blame Wally, Danny had a really nice laugh and the crooked smile was downright precious.

“Totally. I though that two of them were going to get in a fist fight over me at one point! Which I suppose at least would have been hilarious. I’ve won so far, but it’s going to be hard to pick a doctorate when I get there.”

“Oh man, good luck. I got my masters last year and stopped for now. Want to get some work experience, you know?” Wally asked. “But it sounds like you’ll kick ass whatever you choose. Where are you going to school right now? Gotham doesn’t really do much of that, right?”

“U Penn,” Danny said. “I’m close enough location wise that my godfather called in a favor for me to be his plus one for this event, but it really hasn’t been that bad so far.

“Who’s your godfather?” Dick asked curiously.

Danny smiled that crooked smile again. “Vlad Masters.”

Dick couldn’t help the way his nose wrinkled at that.

Danny just laughed.

--

AN: Just a little bit of Dick's POV! And oh no, Dick thinks Danny is cute too! Whatever will we do...

Wanted to write more of this, but *waves hand at everything*. But this brings us to the end of the 'new schedule'! It was fun to do but I certainly won't be doing it every week. It's back to just trauma Tuesday for now! Stay delightful, darlings.

[assorted-candy]

20 Q's for Fic Writers

I got tagged by @dp-marvel94! Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 

I've just posted my 22nd work a few days ago!

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

37,763

3. What fandoms do you write for?

So far, all my published fics are for Danny Phantom. It's a fandom that's near and dear to my heart and my favorite to write for. I've written fanfiction for myself in a lot of different fandoms over the years. Miraculous Ladybug, Mega Man (Star Force, Battle Network) and Fire Emblem are a few. (Will these ever see the light of day? Probs not, lol)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?  5. Frayed Ends - 37 kudos - Jazz and Maddie are fighting more often. Jack wants to reach out and help his family. 4. The Same Blood - 45 kudos - Maddie and Jack try to help a sick girl that collapsed in front of their house. They don't know what to make of her condition. Danny wants to help.

3. Returned Home - 49 kudos - Maddie finds Danny at home after he disappeared ten months ago.

2. The Broken Pieces Left Behind - 66 kudos (tie) - Maddie knew what the portal did to Danny. If she could create something that essentially turned him into a ghost, she could figure out a way to fix all of it. Even if she hasn't made any progress in the past two months, she'll keep trying. She didn't account for what Danny wanted. 1 . What's Out of Out Control - 66 kudos (tie) - Danny thought he had it under control. He thought he could finally hang out like they used to always do. Tucker could feel the rift between them widening. It wasn't getting smaller anytime soon.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to! There were a few comments from my two earlier fics that I never responded to and it's already been so long and I feel like I ended up putting it off too long to say anything now 😓But I'm so so thankful for all the comments I receive! I never thought anyone would read my work, let alone comment on it. I'm always between two modes of 'author commentary' and 'screaming thank you and running away'.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Lol, I love my angsty stuff and there are so many different flavors of angst, so it's hard to pick just one. I'd say the piece I aimed to write for Angst Fest, The Broken Pieces Left Behind, might be it. It ends on a rather hopeless note for the Fenton family that even I don't know how to make everything better for them

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Home for a Cat. It was for a Ectoberhaunt prompt that I was absolutely stumped on. So I decided someone was going to adopt a cat by the end of the fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Ahh, so I actually posted a fic on FFN wayyy back when I was in high school. I remember it being received pretty well but I got a really rude comment on a simple spelling mistake. Back then, I was just told I had dyslexia a few years prior and I had some really bad self-esteem issues tied in with that. So, yeah, that comment basically made me terrified to ever show my work to anyone ever.

It's been over ten years since then and I wanted to actually get over that fear. I impulsively decided to do Angst Fest with the mindset that no one would even look at what I posted. Not only did people look, everyone has been so kind!!!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

lkdajldkf, nope. I get flustered trying to write basic romance and having two characters hold hands, lmao. Major props to those that can, it's definitely a skill that takes time to master just like any other genre.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I haven't.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Also haven't had this either.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, but it seems like a lot of fun.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Back when the show was airing, Amethyst Ocean (Danny/Sam) was my go to. I'm a sucker for friends to lovers tropes and it's really nostalgic for me. But, I don't really read a lot of shippy things for Danny Phantom, so ships don't make or break a fic for me.

If I'm looking to read romance, the whole Love Square (MariChat my beloved) with Miraculous Ladybug will always be great. Even if I jumped ship on the show around season 2 or 3 and I have no clue what they're doing now, lol.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I honestly have so many WIPs that are unfinished on my computer from over the years. Maybe a super old one that I titled 'Phantoms in the Daylight'. Angst once more with Character Death as the main pain point. I like the beginning but oh boy, does it get sloppy and confusing real quick. I'd need serious outlining energy put into it if I'd ever want to salvage it and I just don't have it in me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue! Give me two blorbos and I'll make them talk forever.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Scenery and description. I love the dialogue portion so much that I end up running into the floating heads in an empty room problem in the first drafts of my fics. My first round of edits are dedicated to making sure I have a scene and grounding characters into it. And then I have to go back later to make it not feel so robotic sounding.

(Also a weakness but more as in fic than writing. Summaries and Titles. I stare at my drafts on AO3's editor for at least half an hour trying to pull something together, lol)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I can probably talk about this for hours, lol. I absolutely love foreign languages, especially when it comes to linguistics. So, I'll try to be brief, lmao. Short answer: depends on the fic but normally no. I already spend so much time fussing over the word choice/slang/formality/dialect characters use in my native language. I don't have a good enough grasp on another language for it to sound natural to the reader. ("They would not fucking say that" is my internal monologue during dialogue edits, lol)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It's a toss up between Pokemon and Danny Phantom. I first learned about fanfiction from a friend who showed me FFN for the Pokemon fics. I looked around the site and found all of the Danny Phantom fics soon after and got hooked on those. I started writing around then and it would have been for one of those two.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Hard to chose one! Writing technicality wise, I'm proud of how What Remains on the Table turned out. I consider description my weak point, so the original draft was 0 dialogue with very stiff descriptions. I was able to edit it to really practice my environmental storytelling. (Although, please mind the tags if you click the link as it does deal with the dissection topic)

I'm not sure who's been tagged and I'm not sure who writes fanfic, so @lavendarlily, @fangirlwriting-stories, @grub-xd, @nanaarchy and anyone else that wants to join!

[hannahmanderr]

ALSO ❤️✨👗🌸🎉🍰👄🌙😍 pitch pearl :)

it's important for me to clarify that this is only one of an infinite number of possibilities depending on the context lol. for this one, we're going with Fenton and Phantom stemming from the same Danny but becoming their own people once separated whooo

❤️- Who asked whom out?

Phantom definitely, but bc he's a mischievous little turd, he had to do it very sneakily so that Fenton wouldn't suspect it was a date right away and freak out

✨- Who plans the date?

Also Phantom, on account of it being a surprise date lol

👗- How long do they take getting ready?

Phantom spends literal hours getting ready - not in terms of appearance, of course (he's only got the jumpsuit, and that hair is a nightmare to try and wrangle), but getting ready mentally, on the other hand... Needless to say, there are quite a few parkgoers that day wondering why on earth Phantom is flying in actual circles around the same single tree, muttering self-affirmations to himself over and over again. Poor kid must really have some self-esteem issues.

Fenton, on the other hand, when Phantom shows up to take him, looks down at his sweatpants, throws on a hoodie, and says "Ready" (mostly bc he's just been woken up from having fallen asleep in the middle of his homework; he was up late last night helping Phantom catch Johnny 13)

🌸- Who brings gifts (flowers, wine, chocolates, etc.)

Phantom considered bringing a flower, but decided against it. He would've loved to bring a gift as a romantic gesture, but hey, sometimes you've gotta start small, and that's what he's gonna do with Fenton.

🎉- What was the date?

Phantom goes to get Fenton, only to find Fenton asleep on a pile of homework. He hates to wake him up, he remembers how bad it could be, back when they were one person, but this can't wait. It has to be tonight.

Fenton is more embarrassed about having fallen asleep on the homework (and the pile of drool left on his chem worksheet) than anything. Slightly annoyed that Phantom would wake him up, but he knows that if he's doing that, then it must be important.

Phantom takes Fenton out into the night sky. "Don't you remember what tonight is?" Phantom asks, almost surprised that Fenton hasn't mentioned anything about it yet.

"Out of Touch Thursday?" Fenton jokes. He has not caught on yet. (the joke makes Phantom smile)

He doesn't respond though, not until they're out just past the edge of town and so high up it's dizzying, or maybe Fenton's only feeling that way because holy crap did Phantom get... cologne? Or something? And why does it smell so good? Has he always smelled like this?

(the answer is that Phantom knows they both love the scent of pine trees, and while Fenton has a body spray that has a similar scent, Phantom wanted to get his own, special one, so he sweet talked a potion master in the Zone to make him one)

It's when Phantom stops dead in the middle of the sky that Fenton remembers what that night is, right as the first meteor begins to fall.

"You idiot," Fenton says, although Phantom can see the smile twitching at the corners of his lips, "we could've just gone up onto the Ops Center. Why make the trek out here?"

It's important to note that this whole time, Fenton has had his arms wrapped around Phantom's neck (very tightly, because as much as he trusts Phantom won't let him fall, the ground is very far away). Phantom has kind of tucked his tail under Fenton's legs to give him a bit of a cushion to sit on - not completely, of course, but enough so that Fenton isn't just dangling from him, but it at least leaves the hand not on Fenton's back free.

Phantom takes that free hand and, almost shaking from nerves, reaches up to his shoulder, where Fenton's hands meet. He puts his hand over Fenton's and says, "It wouldn't have been the same. I wanted - I needed it to just be us. Not us and the city, just us. Away from everyone and everything else."

Fenton can't decide whether he wants to stare up at the falling stars around them, lighting up the sky in a waterfall of silvery stardust, or if he wants to stare at Phantom, whose glow lights up his whole world and, despite his cold, fills him with a warmth he can't describe.

He knows what's going on now.

So he shifts his hand so his fingers wrap into Phantom's. The swooping in his stomach might be from the height, but it might also be from the fact that Oh my God is this idiot finally making his move? (it's not like he hasn't noticed the way his heart flutters every time he sees Phantom's smile, or the way how even in the midst of all the teasing, Phantom treats him like a treasure worth more than the stars in the sky falling all around them)

"It's always us," he tells Phantom quietly. "It'll never not be just us. The city and the ghosts and whoever... it's not like they understand."

And he doesn't say more, but Phantom just somehow knows what he's getting at. Knows that Fenton is talking about the bond they share, because although they split apart months ago and they're more their own person they ever were when they were one, their souls are still eternally twined with one another in a way that no one, ghost or human, can ever fathom.

🍰- Who picks up the cheque (if there is one)? Does the other person put up a fight?

No check for a meteor shower, but had there been one, Phantom would've insisted on picking it up, and Fenton would've fought him tooth and nail to at least allow them to split it.

That being said, Phantom isn't going to let the night go by without showing Fenton something for it, especially after those words.

So he carefully untangles his hand from Fenton's and holds it in front of them, above Fenton's lap. A spark of green flame dances in his palm, and Fenton watches, entranced, as Phantom concentrates - he's been practicing for this, he knows he can do it - and, in one fell swoop, encases it in a glittery ice.

The result is something that looks very similar to the falling stars around them, and Fenton's breath catches in his throat.

Phantom doesn't notice. He's too busy letting his words flow like they've been freed from their dam. "I just get so... so scared that something's going to change... something's going to happen, and we'll drift apart..."

He looks up at the meteors. "What if... we're meant to just keep separating? That we'll end up burning out like these meteors?"

He now looks at his shooting star of ice, still resting in the palm of his hand. "I... I can't lose you," he whispers. "I can't let it burn out. I don't know what I'd do..."

Fenton watches all of this, his heart pounding. It's been so long that he's been waiting to hear these sorts of words come from Phantom's mouth, and it hurts his heart in all the right ways to see Phantom so worried for their relationship, whatever sort of relationship that may be.

👄- Who initiates the first kiss? Does it go well?

Fenton, surprisingly enough, is the one to break that barrier. Overwhelmed with affection, without thinking twice about it, he leans forward and plants the softest, most tender kiss into Phantom's cheek.

"Like we'd ever let that happen," he says, and now, fully trusting that he won't fall, he moves one of his hands from around Phantom's neck and puts it just barely underneath the hand holding the frozen star, and now both of them are holding this impossibly singular moment in time.

Phantom doesn't know what to think. On one hand, he's still terrified of something happening that would make him lose Fenton, but on the other, he's tired of being scared. Fenton's kiss burns in his cheek, and he wants more. He doesn't want to hold back anymore. He wants to believe this singular moment in time can stretch into eternity, that nothing will ever come between them.

And so he chooses to believe that.

Without another word between them, somehow just knowing that this is what Fenton wants too, he captures Fenton in a real kiss.

And another.

And another.

And ano-

Each time, Fenton responds just as eagerly because God, he's been waiting and wanting this for so long, but he's just been so nervous to make the first move and now it's really happening and now they're tangled in yet another kiss as the sky falls around them and yes, they can believe that not even the universe itself will ever bring them apart.

🌙- At the end of the night, do they stay over?

It's not like they haven't already been sharing a room, basically, but that night it's different as Fenton curls up in his bed and for the first time, Phantom curls up right next to him.

Nothing much more than that happens, of course, they're both still awkward, nervous teenage boys, but they both lay there , just enjoying this new light to each other's company. Phantom savors the feeling of Fenton's warm body pressed up against him, and Fenton wants to memorize how safe and comfortable it feels to have Phantom's tail wrapped around him.

😍- Any random headcanons you may have

Phantom might have accidentally lost track of the frozen star sometime during one of many kisses, but not Fenton. He keeps it tucked away in the back of his sock drawer, where no one but him knows. Over the years, whenever he gets into a fight with Phantom, or whenever the two of them find themselves facing yet another threat to their relationship, he pulls it out when he's alone and sits there and holds it, remembering the promise they made to each other that night.

It just about always helps.

Maybe one day, he'll finally return it to Phantom, when he's ready to be brave enough to bring their relationship to the next level and really ask him to spend the rest of his afterlife with him.

[maelathemenace-old]

Y’all I’m leaking smth about SWLYWDT

I’m leakin me n Clouds chat board on the fic

Here it is:

The chatboard:

Yippeeeeeee

Yippeeeeereeeee :D

May or may not have added a bit to the prologue. Oopsies. Also I’m starting chapter 1 early (Cloud was still writing the prologue)

Nvmd I gotta go to bed

Sure, hope you can rest

Gn my good dude

Gn

Does Danny swear if so please put the correct word below* bc it's too late for me to be making that much noise

I think he swears? Idk we’ll figure it out lol

Cannot sleep. Too many thimks. Write.

Writing emotion really makes me realize that I cannot write emotion

Happens, I only sleept like, 6 hours and thats stretching it. And don't worry I think I know how to write emotion, we can complement the others writing :D also I changed some things in riggys thought

Thanks dude

Np

Should I let them hug or have Danno wallow in sadness alone for a while?

Let him wallow alone, I think bc of the shock he wouldn't let riggy comfort him?

Alr

Little does he know, Danno is so self conscious that he’d feel like a nuisance for asking for Riggy to comfort him after so blatantly refusing his offer the first time!

The short about lying is getting ignored, Danno is stuck in a depression nest that I second chapter

Riggy would list Danno as Bitchboy in his contacts (I think a ghost wrote “he would” here because it wasn’t there in the chatboard but it appeared here lol)

…. Man I can't ducking focus my cousin is watching a movie help

Oof

Is that enough for a first chapter?

Idk, let me see if I can add something

Man no better thing than listening to alien blues while writing self esteem issues

Idk man I like Cosmo Sheldrake his songs are bops

Here I will give you my Favorite (note, the word Favorite was a link to a song. It was Wriggle by Cosmo Sheldrake btw)

It has such a cool vibe to it

Hbdehusfbuhdbfuhxdbfb this is so long hsujssjjndndnfnhfhhvhfhfeujwjwjs (I was transcribing Confrontation.mp4)

Letting my friend read this, they are Dashie the Pigeon Bitch (@dashiecat21xp this is you)

(I am purple and Cloud is default)

[ijustmightdieinbuffalo]

I’m tired of consuming content about dating where the premise is, if a man wants you he will do everything and anything to make sure he doesn’t let you get away.

Every man that has pursued me heavily has been incredibly self aggrandizing and honestly scared me away after trying to plead their case as to why “we would actually be perfect for each other” when in reality my affection for them was a fucking conquest for their ego. It had nothing to do with actually liking the person that I am. These people do not make me feel safe. I can see right through the bullshit.

Conversely. I do understand that most men go after what they want and you can’t really change their mind about what it is that they want and if it’s not you it will be incredibly evident.

I do know I have approached men. I approached Aidan and Harrison and probably other guys in a successful manner that actually had interest in me. Even Davey or Pat, I initiated interest because underlying I felt some sort of vibe.

So with Frank, I can sense some type of vibe. I will die on the hill of following me on Instagram was a small bid at this interest. Even if it was friendly. Two. The band aid thing was too sweet to be managerial. Reff would never do that. Tim would rather watch me bleed to death. I don’t know a single manager that would help me put a bandaid on. Nina would kill Danny if she saw him putting a bandaid on some girl coworkers finger. I know it. Three. He calls me angel. Four. The times he consistently said “thank you for being the only sane person back here” Five. Asking Mike about me in a way that’s like “what are y’all doing dude. Six, he seems nervous around me but I’ll concede that I also get nervous around him and maybe that makes him nervous.

So I can see where he wouldn’t want me. He knows about the Alex thing. I was with Mike very briefly and Mike probably told him messy shit. Maybe I’m super messy. I’m his boss. We just got Sheldon fired for sexual harassment towards me. He could just not be interested.

It’s definitely not a clear cut thing. But I think that I can’t move past it (in typical Vanessa fashion) unless I know how he feels. I think I’m still worried about my rejection and taking it personal because I’m not in the most stable emotional place with my self esteem. I’m just having horrendous body confidence issues.

Im over thinking this whole thing. But I wonder one day when I look back and read about it if I’ll laugh at how accurate I was.

[lets-summon-danny]

I love every addition to this post and I'd like to add a spin: Another Reverse au

Where school names and all are the same and Danny (probably) still becomes Phantom but Everlasting Trio are the jocks. I think the timeline would be more recent than the 2000s.

Sam would totally be the main sports jock, Tucker making creative insults to anyone who doesn't know about technology enough (everyone keke) & generally acting like he's above everyone and Danny.. being a sarcasm master? Idk. He can be a harmless cinnamon roll that died and came back (he would totally get influenced by Sam's fashion sense but green) I also see Valerie as a loser turned into a loner jock/popular kid. She is the one to turn her back to her former friends and now has 'tons' of friends (they are only here for her fame and she knows it but doesn't wanna admit that she did wrong and go back to her 'loser' friends) The only friend she actually have at the moment is Star and everyone else is just a mess. (Love's gonna get you killed... but Pride's gonna be the death of you~)

Paulina would have a distant but destructive mom that makes her feel ugly about her body. She would be still super pretty with low self-esteem and body image issues. She is still into cheerleading and in the team but she isn't the captain and gets really anxious. Dash definitely has an abusive dad and while Dash is strong he doesn't want to physically fight anyone in school bc he wants to go as far as possible from his dad once school ends and he doesn't want to get suspended. Kwan has caring parents but probably gets racist comments and/or harsh treatments from his peers because he is a giant softie. Star is friends with both Paulina and Valerie but she is just a regular student, doesn't get into any dramas or fights at all and the cheerleader captain probably.

But these two groups get into some kind of accident or something and Dash, Paulina and Kwan learn their own worth and the information the Trio is also really insecure and shit. (Idk I got tired.) They get a confidence boost, trio gets humbled (they are now cooler) Valerie gets over her pride and apologizes, Star sticks for people she cares for and realizes while grades are important, friends are superior.

All of this au because I want to see Danny wearing Sam's purple-black letterman jacket (and if possible while kissing Tucker or sitting on his lap asjdfdgf <33)

I used to wonder why Casper High's school colors are red and white because those don't really seem to match the Raven vibe. It seems like purple or blue would be a better choice over red.

But then I remembered that Dash's letterman jacket is red and white and I'm wondering if Butch designed Dash first with the most typical letterman jacket colors ever and then he was like "oh well now the school colors have to be red and white ig lol."

And he couldn't just change Dash's jacket to be purple and black because those are Sam's colors and she would never wear the same colors the jocks and cheerleaders wear.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny, while out exploring the Infinite Realms, gets caught up in a wierd evil scheme to clone...a robin? Okay, strange but hes dealt with weirder stuff. Nothing really prepared him for finding a little newborn baby amongst all the empty pods and computers he was destroying.

He picked it up carefully and soon discovered it was a girl. Phantom, knowing this was very much not a bird, started looking for answers while the baby rested in his arm. Robin turned out to be a kid who looked around eight or nine...or he was just small. Either way he was waaaay too young to take in a baby and anyone who dressed up like a bat and let thier kid run around with them at two in the morning to fight serial killers and terrorists in the city that is the embodiment of late stage capitalism probably isn't a good fit for a child.

So he turned to the child and muttered, "Guess I'm a dad now." before taking her back to the Infinite Realms. He named her Asteria after the greek titan goddess of the stars.

She was so inquisitive and wanted to grab and investigate everything she saw. She was smart and ridiculously bold, almost reckless, which made it easy to pass her off as his and telling his sister that he had a fling with a tourist and she told him the baby was his. He even presented a fake paternity test to her and then silently waited for her judgment.

She just sighed.

Danny didn't hate being a father but man it was tiring. They had moved away from Amity Park after thier parents and Vlaad "passed away" which was code for Jazz murdering them in cold blood after...the incident

He and Sam stopped being friends after they had a bad break up, but Tucker was his best friend, even all these years later. Valerie still seemed to come and go too. Danny was happy just being a single father.

Until it happened.

Asteria started coughing. He didn't think anything of it at first. Kids got sick all the time but...it never stopped. Danny had taken her to doctor after doctor but no one seemed to know what they were looking at. They all said something similar, that it was some sort of genetic disease involving her lungs but they had never seen anything like it.. they even asked to record this for future medical studies. He agreed so long as it was within reason and wasn't invasive.

The cough just kept getting worse until one day she had a fit so bad it sent her to her knees. She had to stay on the ground coughing as Danny frantically patted her back and tried to comfort her. By the time it was over she was sobbing uncontrollably and hugging her teddybear to her chest as Danny held her.

Danny decided he needed to go back to Gotham. If this was a genetic disease then it must have come from that Robin guys family, right? He didn't want to have to go to him directly, it had been four years since he took her and its possible the guy might sue him for custody. Or the Batman will. Or they might kidnap her and he would never see her agia-

Danny took a deep breath. He was not going to talk to the furry patrol. But he was sure that someone in Gotham had to know what this was.

---

Leslie got a knock on her window as an ungodly hour of the night. She opened it intending to yell at someone, but when she saw that unique look of desperation on a young man's face while holding a little girl in a light blue princess nightgown the words died on her tongue.

The man said he couldn't go to a normal hospital or doctor as they would have questions he couldn't answer and her sickness isn't something he had ever seen before. She was adopted and her disease was appearently genetic. He even offered to give Leslie samples of his blood for study since he heard she liked to study metas.

She made sure he knew this wasn't necessary and that she didn't want him to feel forced before taking the offered sample.

Asteria began a slow recovery after that. One where neither of them could leave Gotham until she was completely cured. Whats more is that Asteria would need medication for years to come. Money wasn't an issue. Danny would just need to find a reliable form of transport between dimensions.

Unfortunately for him, Leslie discovered the "Altered Lazarus water" in his blood samples and notified Batman.

[obetrolncocktails]

"When It Hurts You" Part 2 | Josh Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: A shit ton of angst, alcohol consumption, drunk behavior, self esteem issues, gaslighting, slut shaming, Graphic hardcore smut (hate fucking), unprotected sex (wrap it tf up before you tap it besties).

Word Count: 10K (It's a big one).

A/N: Have fun reading this one, besties. This shit was so fun to write. HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to @capturethechaos for heavy editing influence and help writing the latter half of this chapter. You literally read my mind, bestie. Moreover, you have the balls and tits to write the most unhinged shit. We love sinning in this house.

Summary: Josh seeing you drunkenly kissing Jake? Shit. Josh actively hating your guts? Also shit. Getting [redacted] by [redacted] in a [redacted]? priceless. (optional riddle for you before you begin reading).

Have you read part one?

“Oh my God–Josh.” The words fall from your lips as you watch him escape through the crowd into the depths of the house. Jake has taken a step back from you, his face contorted in a regretful grimace.. “Y/N, I’m sorry, I–” You throw your hand up to silence him. “Jake, I’m not mad. We will talk about this later.” You take his hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly before opening the sliding glass door, leaving him on the deck. It wasn’t your intention for it to happen, it was just a strange moment that led to that betraying kiss. As you wade through the sea of people, your senses dullen; the music has no beat or rhythm, you can’t process what anyone is saying. The only thing that you can feel is your heart pounding and the adrenaline coursing through your nervous system. The image of Josh’s pained expression swamps your brain like a dumped-out shoebox of polaroids–each duplicate picture making you want to bury your head further and further into sand. You paw at shoulders and arms to find your way through the house, finding Danny sitting in an armchair in the far corner of the living room. “Danny, have you seen Josh?” Your tone is full of worry and urgency, causing his  eyebrows to furrow. “Uh–no. Not since he went looking for you a few minutes ago.” That’s no help, you think. “Thanks.” He utters a few more parting words, but you were far too upset to stay and answer them. You’d apologize later.

You walk through the house, entering and checking room by room in hopes of finding Josh, but you know that you won’t. He values his privacy, and this party would be the last place he would want to be right now. With your inhibitions lowered, you decide to move your search outdoors. You knew that you shouldn’t be doing this–being out in the Michigan wilderness alone was a bad decision, but frankly, you didn’t give a shit. You were wearing heels, which were obviously not a wise choice of footwear. Luckily, you had a pair of tennis shoes in the trunk of your car. Starting there, you switch out the shoes and begin to make your rounds, trying your best to remain vigilant of your surroundings. You hadn’t thought to tell anyone of your whereabouts, so you hoped for the best. Sending a quick text to Jake, you simply write “Outside in the back looking for Josh. Don’t come looking for me unless I am gone for a long time.” You switch on your phone’s flashlight and continue to walk towards the back of the house. The landscape could barely be called a backyard; a thick band of trees line the sloped area, parted by a small stream. From where you were, you could hear the water babbling in the distance. The night was unusually bright, making your trek forward less perilous than you had thought. You can’t help but replay the entire evening over and over in your head as you walk, wishing that you hadn’t kissed Jake–wishing that you hadn’t made a scene in the first place with Josh. The funny truth is: no matter how much you wish for something different, it doesn’t mean anything will change.

Despite the clarity of the evening, you still find yourself stumbling, most of it due to your lowered self-awareness. Eventually, you manage to reach the bottom of the slope. Bringing your gaze up from your feet, you find him. Josh has driven his jeep alongside the creek, parking in a well-lit clearing. You pick out his silhouette, sitting on the roof of the car, his back turned from the house. You weigh the risks, but decide to take the first step forward anyway. By the time you are within ten feet of the car, your stride cannot keep up with the pace of your heartbeat. You dreaded this conversation, but Josh meant everything to you. There was nothing in your body or spirit that could have kept you from trying to fix the chasm that was forming in your relationship. Stepping forward, you watch as the crown of his head turns slightly. He knows you are there. He barely acknowledges your presence, turning back to his prior position. You gulp and step around the front of the Jeep, your best attempt at making the conversation unavoidable.

Josh sits in the uncomfortable silence puffing on a joint. The moon casts its brightness upon his features as the breeze captures his curls, molding them to its will. “Hey.” You offer from where you stand. With him seated above you, you feel miniscule. Dirty. Untrustworthy. He tilts his head to you, meeting your eyes for barely a second before returning his gaze back towards the trees. “Hey,” he says between drags. “Josh–I don’t know what to say…” Your voice trails off as you lose the ounce of bravado you thought you had. “I don’t know what to say, either and frankly I am not in the mood to listen, Y/N.” His words sting. His tone has flattened. From where you stand, you can see his profile. His face  has gone slack,  his lips drawn in a reproachful grimace. It is only a minute or so, but it feels like an eternity before he speaks again. “Y/N, I just have one question.” He turns to meet your gaze while you respond. “Okay. What is it?” You stand with your arms crossed, feeling extremely exposed and vulnerable. “Did you think about me when you were kissing Jake, even just a little bit?” His question catches you off guard. You weren’t expecting him to ask that question.

If you were honest with Josh right here and right now, you’d fill the moment with far too many words, with too much pleading. “You have no idea, Josh. It wasn’t what it looked like. It was just bad timing–” He turns around to face you completely this time. “Y/N, do you intend to use all the clichés in the book with me? Are you fucking serious right now?” You have become keenly aware that he is no longer addressing you as “Bug.” He might as well have had his hands around your neck at that moment; your head swims, his words squeezing away at the little air you had left. You rock back and forth on your heels, your body reminding you of your inebriated condition. You remain silent, fishing for the words to make the situation better. “Josh, I don’t have feelings for Jake.” You watch as he slides off of the top of his Jeep. He saunters around the vehicles, approaching you from behind. Your nerves spike; you hope that he will be willing to talk through the things that he has seen. Moreso, you hope that he will give you a moment to explain. His presence behind you is palpable; you know he is there. Within a moment, you notice a hand resting on your hip, Josh arriving at your side. Your heart flutters at his touch, immediately relieved.  In a frigid display of dignity, Josh callously spits, “Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t ask me if I am okay. Go back inside. I’m sure you’re being missed by someone special.” The last word spews out of his mouth; he is unable to say his own brother’s name. He turns his body away from you, flicking the stump of the joint into the creek. You stare at him–through him, shocked and appalled at his bitterness. You are frozen; one more word could have shattered you into a million pieces. “Go the fuck away, Y/N.” And there were five more. In that last second, he has made you feel as insignificant and forgotten as leaves from trees that fall dead, browned and brittled every autumn. They change color and wilt, making one last dance to the ground before the rain and wind takes its toll, erasing their beauty into the detritus of the earth. The wind picks up, slicing its iciness upon your skin, cutting straight through your resolve.

Wordlessly, you turn away from Josh and make your way back to the house, your body shivering and revolting against the frigidity of both his words and the late-night weather. Tears stream down your face, leaving physical proof of the disaster the evening has turned into. You couldn’t bear to enter the cabin again and have to face the concern of the other boys; instead, you decide to seek refuge in the privacy of your car. It is an added point of  frustration when you realize that you have to wedge yourself back into your vehicle because of how close you had to park to the other cars at the beginning of the night. Determined to not return to the party in your current state, you lower yourself into your car and weep for what seems like an eternity. Your chest heaves as you release your woes into a torrent of tears and snot. “Pitiful” was the perfect term to describe you. You can’t help but joke with yourself within your thoughts: Pitiful; Deserving or arousing pity, i.e. (insert your picture here).

Everything hurts; your heart, your eyes, your chapped nose–using the butt of your hand, you try your best to swipe away the moisture running down your face and neck. You pull down the visor above your head, looking at yourself in the mirror and down at your hands. Just as you expected, you look absolutely dreadful. A combination of mascara and eyeliner streaks across your face in several blotchy smudges, a result of your messy attempt to clean yourself up. In the darkness of the vehicle, you notice immediately when your phone lights up from the passenger seat. It’s a text from Jake. “Hey, Just checking on you…it’s been a while. We should talk.” You ignore the message, letting your phone go black once more. The pounding in your head has built up a steady rhythm, and without much thought, you find yourself slamming your car door shut and walking towards the cabin. Every muscle in your body has gone slack, weighing you down with every ounce of humiliation and all of the guilt that wasn't yours, but has still managed to taint your perception of yours and Josh’s relationship from the very start. As you trudge up the front stairs, your brain fights to understand what it is you could have missed, or misunderstood, that has led to this moment. Why is he so jealous? You had cried your fill, you had nothing else to give; quite frankly, you couldn’t have cared less about how you looked or what people thought. Jake’s voice breaks your attention from keeping close watch of your feet as you ascend the stairs. Fuck. You bring your gaze up, meeting his eyes, which immediately fill with the look of sympathy. “Hey, I was just about to come look for you. You didn’t answer my text.” You continue to make your way to the front door, ignoring him as you prepare to brush past, quickly being stopped by his arm jutting across your body, hand landing on your waist. You immediately recoil, feeling his brothers grasp ghost against your skin at the contact. “Hey, I’m just trying to make sure you’re alright.” He says, turning to look at you, almost offended at your lack of care.. “Do I look okay? Don’t fucking touch me.” You spit, peeling his hand from your waist and pushing it back towards him, the venom in your tone causing him to shrink into himself. He wanted to help, but couldn’t find the words. You push past him, opening the doors, hearing a soft ‘I’m sorry’ as you slam them shut behind you.

The party was beginning to die down. Looking down at your phone, you realize that it is nearly three A.M. You and the boys had decided to grab an early flight despite having already planned the party; it was the only flight that allowed all three of you to be on the same flight without a layover. You find yourself regretting that decision with every bone in your body. You stop at the main stairway, staring at the wall and pondering where in this godforsaken cabin you could go to put as much distance between yourself and Josh as possible.Is there a basement? You open the Airbnb listing, scrolling through the layout photos, discovering that there is, in fact, a large finished basement with a huge leather sectional. When you finally find the stairway, you make sure to shut and lock the door from the inside.

The basement was palatial–perfect for a continuation of the party, but you were grateful that it was left untouched. Here, maybe you could fall asleep in peace. You decide that you are going to leave the house before the boys wake up so that you don’t have to face them. The basement is outfitted with a large bathroom. You make quick work of washing your face off, using only warm water and a washcloth. You do the best you can, but give up once it becomes too painful to take off the rest of your eye makeup. Looking at yourself one last time in the mirror, you decide to quite literally throw in the towel, tossing the washcloth into the sink and sauntering out of the bathroom.

You make your way to the couch, sinking into the plushness of the leather. You sit there for an extended moment, dissociating as you listen to the noise from upstairs. You didn’t truly feel alone; the intruding racket kept you from being able to compartmentalize the drama from the evening. Luckily, there is a gigantic flat screen TV mounted to the wall. You find the remotes sitting on top of the ottoman in front of you and switch the TV on, opening Netflix to the least offensive show. You weren’t planning on watching it, you just needed background noise to help you drift off to sleep. You land on Queer Eye, and start the season from the beginning. Finally, you are able to settle, pulling one of the folded throw blankets at the end of the couch over you as you curl into yourself. You would only get a few hours of rest if you were able to fall asleep and you lay for a few minutes debating even trying, considering how early the flight was. Eventually, you succumb as the murmurs from the TV lull you away.

Your alarm wakes you up at 5:15 with a sudden blare, sending your heart racing. What a wonderful way to wake up, you think. Your mood was already destined to be shitty. Great. You should have stayed awake; your body aches. Stumbling to the bathroom, you turn the light on. Squinting from its brightness, you look into the mirror to find that your eyes are horridly swollen, almost to the effect of being stung by a bee. The sight was almost funny to you. You couldn’t help but tote a sardonic mood for the day. You knew that your travels would be filled with inconveniences that you could only laugh at. You brush at your unkempt hair with the tips of your fingers, fighting the messiness into a high pony-tail. Your eyes were still lined in makeup, worn into deep smudges from sleeping on your hands through the night. That’s about as beautiful as I’m gonna get today–good deal. Stumbling back into the room, you erase your evidence, folding the blanket and placing it back at the end of the couch. You turn off the TV that was still playing, placing the remote back on the ottoman. The house is finally quiet, which leaves you feeling unsettled. You scan the room one last time, making sure that you have grabbed everything before treading back upstairs. Padding through the house, it is almost immaculate. Jake and Sam must have spent quite a while cleaning up. The coast is clear, so you make your way out of the house to your rental car. You had packed luggage in the back, you just didn’t have the energy to fish for fresh clothing last night. You decide to go for comfort during this trip, landing on your favorite pair of sweatpants and a soft pullover. You creep back inside to change using the nearest bathroom before returning to close your trunk and put your keys in the ignition. You back out of the driveway, watching the first vestiges of dawn breaking through the rearview mirror.

***

You arrive at the airport at 6:30. It was a small airport–not a conscious decision on the band’s part, but it was a relief to not be flying from an international Airport for once. The lobby was sleepy; there were only a few travelers milling about, coffee cups in hand, fighting to stifle escaping yawns. You wheel your luggage to the check-in counter, retrieving luggage tags from a young, particularly smiley airline assistant. You nod and give a quick “thank you” as you head towards the TSA checkpoint, AKA the worst part of flying. Eventually, you make your way past that checkpoint and into the corridor of endless terminals. E26. You lift your gaze to the brightly labeled terminal and gate numbers. Luckily, you didn’t have far to travel and it wasn’t so much of a maze this time. You have an hour to wait, so you decide to find the nearest Starbucks, grabbing your usual before claiming a notoriously uncomfortable hard-acrylic bucket seat. You scroll through your phone aimlessly, swapping between apps when they no longer interest you. When that fails, you switch your gaze out of the enormous plate glass windows, giving you a view of the tarmac. You watch for a while as the planes enter and exit the runways. You were used to flying. You’d never found yourself overly interested with the ins and outs of it, but you were desperate for any way to distract yourself from the bullshit your life has turned into. Half an hour passes before you are brought out of your trance by a passenger assistant. “Ma’am,” he says with a warm smile. “You currently have seat E4 in Business Class. We have one seat left in first class–it is a private seat, no passengers to your left or right. Would you like to move up? Free of charge.” Damn, maybe today wouldn’t be as shitty as I thought. “Yes, please, if you don’t mind.” You smile brightly at him. “Of course, ma’am. It’s our pleasure. May I have your boarding pass?” He takes the slip of paper and scans it with a handheld machine, punching in a few numbers. “We have you in A3. Thank you for flying with us. You will be boarding first.” You nod and thank him before turning back, impressed by your own luck.

“Ladies and gentlemen,  boarding for flight 6925 to Nashville will begin in eight minutes, first class will board first, followed by Business class and then Economy. Our flight headed to Nashville will depart in forty two minutes. The forecast is mild–fifty-eight degrees and partly cloudy. Should be a smooth ride. Again, boarding will begin in eight minutes. Thank you for flying with American Airlines.” You hear the assistant warn passengers of the boarding process, his voice crackling through the intercom. You return to your previous habit of scrolling through your phone, not having much luck finding anything compelling enough to warrant your attention. Setting your phone down, you bring yourself back into your surroundings, turning to look into the terminal. In the distance, you finally see the boys towards your gate. Sammy is talking to Jake with his jacket slung over his shoulder. He is obviously enthused about something. Sneaking glances at Josh, it’s mildly satisfying to see that he is quiet and withdrawn. If you were going to feel this terrible, at least you wouldn’t be the only one doing it. His gaze is downward cast; he watches his feet as he walks, his hands wrapped around straps of the backpack on his back. You are too indulgent with the time you take to watch him. At the last second, he straightens, making direct eye contact with you. It is hard to detect what he is feeling and even harder as to what he is thinking. His gaze feels empty. He looks straight through you. He doesn’t look rested–in fact, you both look like the poster children for insomnia. He has bags under his eyes and his skin is unnaturally pale. You avert your eyes as fast as you can. Luckily, you don’t have to stay for the fallout. “First Class, we are starting to board, starting with A1. Please prepare your boarding passes to be scanned.” Grabbing your small carry-on backpack, you rise from your seat and join the line knowing damn-well that they boys are watching you. When the assistant finally scans your pass and sends you through the jet bridge to board the plane, you audibly release your breath, not realizing that you had been holding it.

Your seat is spacious and comfortable, an upgrade from the seat that you had previously, which was already considerably nice. You take a moment to fiddle with the amenities around you before realizing that there is a privacy curtain that you could close. Might as well. You press the corresponding button and watch as your little cabin of a seat begins to darken. You know that Josh would notice, and though you couldn’t look him in the eye, you wanted to make a statement. The flight home is peaceful. You were able to get two hours of sleep in with the help of the complimentary eye mask, earplugs and pillows that were provided. Landing and deboarding the plane is a bit of a blur. You are still groggy from sleep and want so desperately to remain right where you were. You are exhausted, both physically and emotionally. You are beyond grateful to retrieve your car from the pay-to-stay parking lot, driving home in an auto piloted daze. As soon as you enter the apartment, you lock the door behind you, throw the keys on the nearest table and sleep for hours. You don’t set an alarm. You have no work responsibilities to tend to, and even if you did, you don’t know if you could have attended to anything having to do with the boys, knowing you’d have to see Josh’s face plastered all over their social media accounts. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You wake up several hours later to a litany of messages and notifications from friends and acquaintances. “Um, why did Josh delete so many pictures from his instagrams?” A message from your friend, Hannah. “What is going on with Greta’s socials?” An instagram notification. Twitter notifications, more texts. What the fuck? Opening Instagram, you swap accounts to Greta Van Fleet’s official account, scrolling through posts. Many photos were deleted; photos from a New Year’s Eve party with the band, another from the Fourth of July when you and Josh had consumed far too much alcohol, lighting every firework in sight. There were several other photos missing, most of which you couldn’t remember as well. Frustrated, you scramble to change the account password so that you only had access to it; it probably wasn’t the best decision to do, but you would worry about the technicalities of your job and of the contract they had signed later. At least he couldn’t delete anything else. Moving on from the band’s instagram, you can’t help but to look at Josh’s profile. As you begin to scroll, you feel your heart becoming a minefield, bombs detonating, boring more and more holes through you. He has deleted every single picture with you. During a kayaking trip with the boys, you and Josh had decided to share a boat. You had so much fun that day, immortalizing the trip with countless pictures. He had posted your favorite on his account, a picture of you beaming at each other, sunburnt from the heat of the summer. Now, that picture is gone. A video from your birthday last year.  Josh had driven halfway across Nashville to find the special cake that you had been raving about for months. It was a video of him singing “Happy Birthday” to you, sung in his goofiest voice possible, making you giggle like a toddler. Another from karaoke night at The Pearl Diver last month–he hadn’t just deleted the pictures, he was attempting to delete you.

You thought you had no more tears left to cry, but your body proves you wrong. You lie in the darkness, cocooning yourself in your comforter, searching for security and comfort that you never find. You decide to text Jake. “Hey, can you talk?”  You knew that the last time you spoke, you weren’t kind to him, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he ignored your message or refused to talk. Your phone plops upon your mattress as you toss it beside you. Lying on your back, you stare at the ceiling, struggling to push down the intrusive thoughts that were picking away at your brain. A few moments later, you receive a notification. “Yes. I will be at your place in fifteen.”  You didn’t necessarily mean that you had wanted to talk in person, but you loved Jake and knew that he would make you feel better–as long as you could iron out the awkward situation from the night before. You don’t bother cleaning yourself up. He had already seen you at your absolute worst. You busy yourself by watching a few of the first recommended youtube videos on your feed. A few minutes later, he texts you again letting you know that he is waiting outside of your apartment. You hop up and unlock the door for him. “Hey, come on in.” He smiles softly and walks through the living room. “You didn’t have to come all the way here, Jake.” He nods, pulling his hands into his pockets. “I know I didn’t but I also know that you are glad I am here.” You couldn’t deny that. It was true. Jake was always there for you. He knew the reality between you and Josh before you did. He was always extremely perceptive–a neutral analyzer. “That is true.” You walk to the fridge, grabbing two bottles of water before taking a seat on the couch and handing him one. “I think we should talk about last night. And before we get to that, I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you. I didn’t mean it.” You would work yourself backwards through the evening, starting with the easiest apology first.

Jake joins you on the couch, tossing his boots off before criss-crossing his legs underneath him, turning to face you. “Y/N, I know that you were upset–it’s no big deal.” Jake brings a hand to scratch his chin as he talks. “We were all drunk–it didn’t mean anything. Tensions were high and I didn’t know how to make you feel better and it just happened.” You adjust in your seat, taking a sip of your water as you listen to him talk. “Well, Jake. It did mean something–but I know you don’t have feelings for me, and I don’t for you. Shit happens. I just wish it didn’t.” You both sit in silence for a moment, acknowledging the awkward tension in the room. “Josh hasn’t talked to me since then–won’t answer my texts about upcoming rehearsals. He keeps having Sam and Daniel text me instead, which just pisses me off.” His face grows pink with frustration, glancing up from his lap, back to you. “Yeah, well he deleted all our pictures together on the GVF Insta and from his personal account. I changed the band’s password so that he couldn’t delete any more.” You fight back tears that betray your resolve. You swipe at them with the back of your hand before they can fall. “Y/N, you need to tell him how you feel. You both suck at talking about feelings.” He pauses for a moment. “He is intensely jealous…he believed the first thing he saw. He didn’t give you a second to explain.” You relax further into the couch. “Well, I can’t say that I wouldn’t have been jealous too, if it were me watching him too.” You swirl your fingers absently through your hair as you talk. “But I wouldn’t have gone this far. He’s hurting me intentionally.” Jake nods with a knowing expression. “Josh is usually cool headed, but he slips up when it’s something he’s partially emotionally invested in. He has had feelings for you for a long time, Y/N.” You sit up forward when you realize that Jake has known for a while. “Why didn’t you tell me? All this time?” Your eyebrows furrow, your heart thumping in your chest. “It just wasn’t my place to say anything.” You and Jake talk for a while longer before calling it a night. It was well past midnight and Jake had mentioned that he had rehearsals with Josh the next day. “It’s not likely he will talk to me or look at me, so it’s gonna be a lot of fun to say the least.” You both agree to keep each other updated, that you could commiserate together.

***

You decide to text Josh the next morning. You weren’t sure why, but you felt like you had to. “Hey, we should talk.” That was all that you could muster to say. You were sure that you wouldn’t get a response, but sending the message makes you feel better in some way. You wanted to see him, even though you knew it would be painful and there was no telling how it was going to go. You couldn’t handle hurting like this with no resolution; you were a fixer–you desperately wanted things to be okay between the two of you, but you had no idea how to go about it.

You distract yourself by going shopping for groceries. Since the tour was over, you could finally depend on real meals for the first time in months. You wander through the aisles, letting your empty stomach fill out your grocery list for you. You choose too much junk food, tossing oreos, chips and candy into your shopping cart. “Damn, someone’s hungry,” A sloppily dressed middle aged man snickers at you as he walks by. You didn’t have the energy to respond, simply adding another bag of chips into the cart. You trudge to the nearest self checkout lane, paying for your groceries. You rejoice in the activity; you have managed to complete the task without burdening yourself with the dread of the last forty-eight hours.

There was something serene about cooking in your own kitchen for the first time in so long, the magic that comes with shutting off your brain and simply allowing your hands to create a meal. You arrive home around 4:30P.M, a bit early for dinner, but you don’t care. You were determined to fill every idle minute with some type of activity to distract or busy yourself. Using some of the fresh ingredients from the shopping trip, you decide to prepare a meal, not beginning with a solid idea of what to make. Your hands work on autopilot, chopping, slicing, stirring…you lose yourself in the process. You had done these steps before. Cooking was always something that you enjoyed. It was one of the many ways that you showed people that you loved them. Eventually you have come up with your own spin on fettucini alfredo, a favorite of yours. It wasn’t difficult or expensive to make, but you had a gift for making the simplest of ingredients shine. White wine was one of your secrets. It’s what the Italians do. Add a little white wine with the butter and garlic simmers and you’re all set for a delicious dinner. Pouring yourself a generous glass of the wine, you continue and stir the creamy sauce before deciding that it is time to taste test. Grabbing a spoon and dipping it in, you taste your meal; it is good, you can’t deny that, but it is missing something. Opening the spice cabinet, you look inside in an effort to find the last ingredient. Red Chili flakes. You hesitate, your fingers hovering over the spice–you find yourself perplexed as to why you pause. An odd sensation washes over your body. Every thought in your brain leaves. You feel disembodied from your current position, standing in front of the stove as your dinner cooks. Suddenly, you aren’t in your apartment. Mentally, you are somewhere very far away, the recesses of your brain struggling to unlock some unaccessed memory connected to the spice that you are still reaching for.

It hits you like a ton of bricks. The memory plays in your mind’s eye, stealing your breath as you let it play. The band had finished recording for the newest album the week prior. It was an exciting time; the boys were in high spirits, excited to see the album that they had been working so hard on finally coming to fruition. Josh had come to your apartment to hang out, practically vibrating with happiness as you invited him in. You had decided to make dinner together, landing on the exact meal that you were preparing at this very moment. Alfredo. He was a clown and he knew that you loved that about him. You beamed at him from one side of the kitchen as he tossed a barrage of cooked noodles at you as you ducked to avoid them. You take handfuls of freshly chopped parsley, blowing them towards Josh like glitter, sprinkling the kitchen in green confetti. You remember him reaching over you to taste the meal, using the spoon pointed at you. “Needs something….something..aha!” He reaches for the chili flakes from the cabinet, bringing them down. “Trust me, Bug.” You cock your eyes at him skeptically, before letting him work. “By all means, but if it’s bad, you’re paying for takeout.” He gives you a lopsided grin before sprinkling a healthy amount into the sauce. He stirs it for a few more moments before dropping the spoon in once more, bringing it to your mouth, offering you a final taste. “Judgment time Bug, is it worthy?” You take a moment to scrutinize the meal before widening your eyes in amazement. “Holy shit, Josh. This is fucking amazing!” That night, you both had eaten enough to have easily fed four. There is now nothing in the pan, leaving you both wobbling to the couch like overfed pigs. You had spent the rest of the night cuddled up with your best friend watching his favorite movies—most of which were absurdly boring, but you reveled in getting to watch them with him.

You return to yourself, realizing that your sauce is now bubbling over, the burners sizzling from contact with the escaped liquid. Stray tears have begun to stain your cheeks before you realize that you are crying. “Fuck!”  You whisper to yourself before reaching to turn off the burner and slide the pan off of the heat. Taking the wine that you had poured, you drain the rest of the cup. You plate yourself a serving of pasta, deciding to not add the chili flake. You spend no time indulging in the food. You don’t taste–you just eat. Without caring to put up leftovers, you leave the pan on the stove, turning the lights off and leaving the kitchen, being careful to not forget the bottle of wine. How could you both be so stubborn and unaware this entire time? When would this stop eating away at you? Your phone buzzes from the charger in your bedroom. “Survived rehearsal. Josh spoke to me, but only when he had to. I think he’s cooling off.” A vague message from Jake. “Told Danny that he’s going to spend some time in the studio tomorrow to redo some vocals on the new track. We decided that the rest of the band doesn’t need to be there. Just thought you should know if you wanted to catch him.”  You send back a quick message telling him thank you and for him to hang in there before preparing to run a bath.

If Josh was going to be there alone, it gave you an opportunity to confront him in a neutral space. It was time for both of you to cut the bullshit and have an adult conversation. Tonight, you choose to love yourself more. You were tired of the destructive behavior that you were beginning to exhibit: drinking too much, not caring about your appearance, sleeping far too much. Shutting yourself in the bathroom, you draw yourself a warm bath, pouring a hefty amount of epsom salts into the water. Your nasal passages begin to clear as the menthol scent begins to rise. It was almost heavenly, feeling all of the tension in your muscles deplete as you sunk into the water. For the first time in over forty eight hours, you were able to take a deep breath. In that exhale, you feel your muscles tentatively give way to relaxation, the process almost painful as your body goes slack.

The quiet gives you time to process the last few days. Yes, you and Jake had kissed, but in your defense, you were both drunk and you had agreed that you hadn’t had feelings for Jake. Josh would argue with you relentlessly; you doubt he could look past his own assumptions to listen to your explanation, but it was at least worth a try. Josh was your best friend; It eats you inside out to imagine your life without him, and though you were being dramatic, the way that he had spoken to you had seemed so final, so angry. But you were just like Josh–extremely stubborn, even if it hurt you more in the end. You have no choice but to proceed with hope that things will work out. You were not willing, however, to let Josh treat you like shit the way that he had at the party. You lower yourself under the water and wash your hair, spending time pampering yourself. You exfoliate, shave and cleanse your body, maybe in an effort to release all of the negative emotions that had plagued you for days.

Eventually, you force yourself to step out of the tub, shivering from the change of temperature when you step into your bedroom. You wrap yourself tightly within the comfort of your towel, reaching for another to help pile your hair on top of your head. You sit at the end of your bed for what seems like forever, scrolling through youtube, watching anything that remotely interests you. Before long, you have spent nearly half an hour at the end of your bed, still wrapped in both towels. Tossing your phone on the bed, you throw on one of your favorite oversized t-shirts and crawl into bed. You fall asleep almost immediately, slipping easily into dreams. Helplessly ironic, they are full of nothing except a montage of Josh’s face, him laughing at your shared jokes, the sensation of his hand caressing the small of your back, your hands brushing against one another, the spark that you had felt…

You wake to the sound of your alarm, feeling well rested for the first time in the past few days, but the lingering feeling of what was to come remains in your brain. You thought back to your dream, bringing a small smile to your face as you made your way to your closet. You didn’t count on Josh wanting to see you, but frankly, you didn't give a shit. You were tired of feeling bad for yourself, worn down by Josh’s gaslighting. You also knew that Josh was blind to your hurt, so absorbed by his own assumptions and misguided anger. You walk into your closet, combing through some of your favorite outfits. If you were going to pursue this confrontation, you might as well look good. Damn good. You decide on a pair of ripped black skinny jeans. You knew that Josh liked them because he always mentioned it every time you wore them, forgetting that they were the same pair you always wore. You grab an oversized comfy band tee. It was well loved, holes worn into the cotton in multiple locations. We’ll call it natural distressing. You tuck the front of the shirt into your jeans, reaching for a nearby black bomber jacket, layering it on top. You check yourself in the mirror, scrutinizing the outfit. When you are finally satisfied, you start your makeup routine, opting for a more natural look. You tailor your outfit choice to Josh’s preferences. It was an intentional decision; though the situation was horrid in every way, it didn’t stop you from being optimistic. You slip on a comfortable pair of black boots before striding to your nightstand to grab your favorite perfume, walking through a quick cloud of it before throwing your hair up in a loose ponytail, pulling out small pieces of your hair to frame your face. Yep, that’s the look for today. Grabbing your purse, phone and keys, you leave your apartment for the studio.

On the way, you prepare your speech, opting for the many ways that things could go. How would you defend yourself when he says the things you knew would be hurtful and untrue. What if he is surprisingly apologetic and kind, back to himself? Would you let him in? Would things be different than they were and in what way? Your thoughts wander, but not in a way that is chaotic. They were fair questions. Considering how hateful he had been, it was anyone’s guess as to how things would go, especially since he wouldn’t be the one instigating the conversation. You arrive at the studio, pulling to the far side of the lot so that he doesn’t see your car. Yours, his and one more were the only vehicles in the lot. He is probably inside the studio booth, but you don’t want to risk him seeing you in case he was in the lobby. The building has large plate glass windows that line the front facade, making your attempts at being covert quite difficult. Luckily, you have been here many times before, so you know your way around. The back entrance into the building is the best option, although the metal door was extremely squeaky and it would most definitely alert your arrival. You decide to use it anyway, stepping inside as you cringe from the noise. Your eyes struggle to adjust as you enter the familiar hallway. This was an older studio, well worn-in by decades of use. The floor tiles were cracked, many pieces left askew. The walls are  lined in hundreds of sharpied signatures, many from platinum selling artists, most from hopeful, grinding musicians. You know where the boys’ names are; you were there when they fought over the same marker to pen their names on the wall, Sammy and Danny winning naturally with their height in stature. You walk in heel-toe fashion, trying your best to be quiet. Part of you doesn’t understand your need to be quiet–sneaky. Josh had made you feel like he was unapproachable. In turn, you find yourself struggling to maintain the same confidence and comfort you had before everything went to shit. Turning down the hall towards the three main recording booths, you tilt your head through the small glass windows, peering to see if you can find Josh. There is no music playing from any of the booths, leaving you wondering what Josh could be doing.

You walk to the final booth, nestled at one of the far ends of the building. Watching through the glass, you can see Josh turned away from the door, sitting in a rolling office chair. His frizzy and unkempt curls are unmistakable. Your heart races as you find yourself in these last few protected seconds. No one could guarantee what could or would happen beyond the threshold into the same room with Josh.

He notices someone walking in, turns to you. His face brightens with an expectant smile before letting the expression fall, turning away from you to pay attention to the computers and mixers. He is quiet, so you proceed hesitantly, walking forward into the small room, coming to lean against one of the large mixer consoles. From here, you can see his face as he pretends to maintain focus on his current task. You both know that this charade couldn’t last long. “What are you working on?” You test the waters, asking him in a casual murmur. He eyes you for a quick moment, his eyes sparkling, though his expression conceals any trace of excitement at your sudden appearance. “Just choosing some takes for the record, Bug.” He is silent again, the moment filled with awkward tension. He has realized that he has called you the pet name that had been stricken from your most recent conversation. Hearing him call you the name once again steals the air from your lungs, replacing it with pure ache. “Ah, well that seems cool. Getting some work in, already.” You attempt again. Nothing. “Josh.” You fill the room with his name, a better replacement than the word ‘please.’  “What, Y/N? What do you want me to say?” He turns from the board to finally face you, tossing his hands out at his sides. You cross your arms across your chest in a protective response. “We need to talk, Josh. You can’t just expect to delete me from your life and pretend like shit’s all fine and dandy.” He shoots back with surprising speed. “Well, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of it for the last three days or so.” You lean forward, finding yourself becoming a bit more heated and obtuse. “That’s a fucking lie and you and I both know it, Joshua.” He follows your body language, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back in his chair obstinately. “Don’t pretend to be able to read me, Y/N. You’re shitty at it.” You step forward into his personal space. “Josh, cut the bullshit and stop. I am tired of fighting with you. Moreover, I am done being constantly gaslit by you. I wish you would just say your fucking piece. We can deal with the fallout later. I just can’t play the game anymore. I won’t.”

Josh is silent for a good while, his face drawn in a conflicted grimace. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times before letting out a deep sigh, finally letting his shoulders relax from their tensed position. “Y/N,” he pauses. “I have loved you since the day that I met you—” He took another breath, running his tongue along his bottom lip as he chose his next words. “—but I felt like I had to push those feelings so far down because I couldn’t risk not knowing you–not seeing you or being near you. So I chose to be your best friend so that I could have you in a controlled capacity; for years. For years, Y/N, I have been waiting for you, but you’ve given me absolutely nothing...” The words spill from his mouth, filling the room with so many things left unsaid for so long, until now.

“Josh—” You start, quickly being interrupted when Josh raises his hand, signaling for you to stop talking. “-until three days ago, when I caught you kissing Jake.” His face is practically glowing red, his cheeks swollen with anger and his eyebrows deeply furrowed. “Really Y/N? My fucking brother? You couldn’t even talk to me, but you found it easy to kiss him? Have you fucked him yet?” The words coming from his mouth were appalling, sending you into an irate spiral. You stand with your fists clenched tightly enough to draw blood from your palms. “You couldn’t muster the energy to finally tell me how you felt, so instead you go and play pretend with my fucking brother?” Josh spews the words, springing up  from his chair, bringing himself nose to nose with you.  His words slash through your resolve, and you straighten yourself, stepping away from him enough to size him up properly. “What the fuck do you take me as? Your little whore? Someone you could lead on, take advantage of, keep at arm’s length, but never give me what we both apparently wanted? You’re a fucking hypocrite. You don’t get to be high and mighty.” Your words are laced with venom, eyes shooting daggers at him as he stares back at you. You look over his face, waiting for him to reply, but he just stands there staring, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his eyes scan over your face.

“How could I have known how you felt Y/n, did you expect me to read your mind? No, instead you ran off and acted like a whore, kissing my brother instead of just telling me how you feel.” Josh spits, and you immediately react, your hand cracking harshly against his face before you realize what you were doing. “You’re a fucking hypocrite, Joshua.” You seeth. “You had every opportunity to say something to me. You’re my boss for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t my place!”

Josh’s hand flies to his cheek as you hiss the words, rapidly turning back to you, his eyes lit ablaze within his deep brown irises. He scans your face, biting at his lip with indecision before  abruptly closing the short distance between the two of you, wrapping his hands on either side of your head. Taking fistfuls of your hair in each of his hands, he pulls you tightly against him, crashing his lips against yours in a fiery kiss.

He is selfish with the embrace; he robs kisses from you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You can’t help the choked moan that rips though you as he moves his mouth to your throat, sucking a harsh spot onto your skin. You were helpless to fight against him, nor did you want to. You were pissed at him, that was true, but every fiber in your body desperately wanted him to take you as his, to ruin you for anyone else. You want to punch him, to kick him, to make him hurt the way that he had hurt you. Conflicting thoughts rip through your brain at a pace that obliterates any chance at thinking clearly.

“Josh—” You moan, immediately getting cut off as he pushes you into the nearest wall, knocking any remaining breath from your lungs. He pulled away from you, his hands each falling to a new position. One remains near to your throat, the heel of his hand pressing against your collarbone, the other falling lower, pressing into your hip as his eyes rake down your body, finally taking in your appearance.

“All of this for me I presume?” The hand that rested on your hip slowly played along the hem of your jeans, his eyes locking with your own. “Wouldn’t you like to know? You’ve been a pussy so long, it’s hard to tell what you like.” You stare into his eyes, your demeanor remaining guarded. “It makes my cock hard knowing that you dressed like that just for me, Bug. You and I both know it was intentional.” His eyes are bright with determination and cockiness, staring back at you with the same intensity that you had offered. Finally, you break.

“I knew you’d like it, what are you going to do about it? Take it off?” You ask, watching as his fingers play with the button of your jeans. “Only what I have to,” He replies, popping the button of your jeans and moving both hands to the band and pulling them down, ripping your panties down in the process. Crouching in front of you, he wastes no time, one hand squeezing your thigh, the other dipping between your folds, feeling the effect he had on you, just from your short interaction.

“Do you always get this wet for me, Bug?” He asks, looking up at you and spreading his fingers, watching as your juices web and drip down his hand. You both know the truth, the proof evident before your eyes. “Josh, fuck,” you murmur through gritted teeth. You feel your erect nipples brushing against the fabric of your bra, begging for freedom. The sight of Josh below you was hot enough, but watching as he places his fingers against his tongue makes your brain short circuit. He makes an exerted effort to lock eyes with you as he hollows his cheeks, sucking his fingers into his mouth, pulling them from his mouth with an audible ‘pop’.

Once his fingers are out of his mouth, he returns to your pussy, pressing two fingers into your entrance before setting a relentless pace, giving you a mischievous grin. Leaning in, he presses his lips to your clit, his tongue languidly swiping at your skin for a taste before suckling the bud between his velvet lips. You gasp a muted ‘fuck’ as you clench your fingers into his curls, a sensation you knew was most definitely painful, but he takes no notice. “This room is soundproof Bug, be as loud as you want.” Josh says, curling his fingers as he pumped them up into you, deeper with each thrust. “Fuck— Josh, I’m gonna—” You cut yourself off with a desperate groan as Josh pulls his fingers out of you, standing up and meeting your gaze. He lifts his fingers up between your faces, looking down to your lips, and taps his forefinger against your bottom lip. You open your mouth and feel as he presses his slick covered fingers against your tongue. He slides his fingers from your mouth dropping his hands to your hips and spins you to face the wall, pressing you into it and pushing his knees between yours, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Hands up on the wall Y/N.” He orders in a gruff murmur, moving one of his hands to unbutton his jeans. All you can feel was his subtle movements as he pulls his pants and boxers down just enough to release his throbbing cock. He yanks your hips back, pressing himself against your dripping core. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck as he shoves himself entirely into you without warning. The force pushes you impossibly closer to the wall. Your cheek presses into the textured wallpaper as he withdraws almost entirely from your pussy before entering once again, mirroring the pace he had used with his fingers only minutes before. The feeling is damn near euphoric, his hands digging into your hips hard enough that you're positive they’ll leave marks. He pushes against your foot enough to lower you, giving him a new angle as he continues to fuck you relentlessly.

One of his hands travels to your chin, pulling your head back to rest uncomfortably against his shoulder as he presses his lips against the shell of your ear. “Only I get to fuck you like this, got that Bug? No one else.”

“Does that mean I get to go after your brother to get you like this again?” You choke out the words from your awkward position, deciding to take the bratty angle. The grip on your chin drops to your throat, pressing against either side, feeling each of his fingers move as his hand flexes against your skin. “Try again.” He growls before sucking a new angry spot just below your ear. “I could call him in here right now…” You tease with a mischievous smirk, feeling his hips swing flush against the curve of your ass, buried as far as he can go. “One last chance Y/N, or I won’t finish you off.” His tone has shifted, now speaking in low, breathy huffs.

“I know who will,” you taunt. He responds to you by snapping his hips aggressively against yours, intentionally slowing his thrusts any and every time he could feel you getting close. He fucks you intensely, eventually giving in to pleasing you deeply, leaning forward often to kiss the curve of your ear, whispering all of the things you’d ever wanted to hear him say for years. Here, in this studio, he ravages every inch of your body, leaving your skin scalding at his touch. “You’re mine,” He murmurs over and over as his hands trace your curves, his lips dragging against your shoulder blades and up your neck from behind. His brow drips with exertion, his curls limp with sweat. His cheeks flame, exhaustion evident as you both near a mutual orgasm.

Your core throbs uncontrollably from the ecstasy coursing through your body. The anger you carry has morphed into a desperate carnal need; every synapse and nerve in your body begging for release. “Fuck!” You whimper, your muscles contracting and releasing in every attempt to finally achieve the orgasm that was becoming more and more imminent. You can hear Josh releasing his held breath. It comes out in hitches, matched with each successive pump. “Cum with me. Cum with me, baby.” In an inexplicable moment, your anatomy takes over, arching your back in an almost uncomfortable angle, your floor muscles squeezing fiercely against Josh’s throbbing cock. “Oh my fu–!” As he finally spills himself into you, you hear Josh’s palm slamming against the wall beside you as he moans out your name. You both stand in silence, panting in an effort to catch your breath before he pulls out of you, watching as his cum leaks out of you.

He doesn’t let it get far before he collects it with his fingers, pushing it back into your overly-sensitive cunt. His other hand tugs your panties and jeans back up your legs, sliding his fingers out of you only when your panties are back in place. Moving back,  Josh pulls you along by the waistband of your jeans, sitting back in his chair, bringing you down to sit on his lap. You stare at one another for several minutes, still coming down from the events that had just occurred. Eventually Josh leans forward, tenderly trailing kisses along your cheeks moving his kisses up till he reaches your ear. “Was that a good enough apology, Bug?”

You smirk at the joke currently brewing in your brain. “I think an actual date might be a better apology than fucking me against a wall.” You say with a chuckle. “Are you asking me on a date, Bug?” He asks, lips curling into a smirk that is far too large for his face.

“It’s a bit backwards, fucking before our first date, but yes, I am asking you on a date, Josh.” You glance upward, you gaze meeting his. There is softness in his eyes, cutting through the cocky exterior he wore so well. “By all means, who would I be to say no? All you had to do was ask, Y/N. I’ve been waiting to hear those words for longer than you could possibly know.” He answers your request with a delicate loving kiss, placed gingerly upon the softness of your lips.

End of Chapter

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[lieutenantbiscute]

So I’ve been thinking about it a while and the rise boys are gonna be different then they are in the show. Like splinter was hella depressed and that affected how the kids grew up

Like Raph was the oldest and had to play parent when dad couldn’t

Leo didn’t get enough attention or praise so he started doing it himself making him look full of himself

Donnie also didn’t get enough attention causing him to seek it out wherever he could sometimes ignoring red flags

Mikey had to be the family therapist to take care of his brothers mental health because no one else could

But being raised by the 12 boys? They’d be better off. Even just a little bit. I think some stuff would still shine through but maybe for different reasons. In Japanese culture who is the oldest sibling means a lot. Splinter raised Leo like that and I think wether he means to or not he’s gonna treat Ralphie the same way (Raph doesn’t want to do that to him coz he saw what a toll it took on Leo) which means Ralphies not gonna go savage mode when he’s alone or have as bad separation anxiety

Leon and Danny are going to get enough attention and praise here meaning Leon for sure is gonna seem less full of himself maybe even have less self esteem issues. Danny is way less likely to ignore red flags because an adult showed some interest in him

And Mikey might still have dr delicate touch but I feel like that would come about more as being the youngest and needing a tough personality to clash with his brothers

Tho of course spending that time with Draxum is defo gonna leave it’s mark on the kids (but that’s another ask)

The boys are definitely better off in the au!

A fun Idea that kinda came from this was Ralphie and Leon sharing the leader role once Sensei Leo makes the call. Ralphie as eldest HAS been carrying the burden of leader for a while so Leo decides the have him split leadership with Leon early on.

This leads to a bit of tension between Ralphie and Leon early on but the two talk it out, and talk with Leo about it. Leo knows the burden of Eldest Son so he wants to lessen it by splitting it up between two.

Few years down the line Leon and Ralphie and full functioning leaders of the younger Hamato’s. Hell even sometimes they let Danny and Mikey call the shots to have them get a feel for leadership!

With Danny and Leon both definitely get all the attention they wanted when they were younger (my Mona and Uncle Mikey respectively) so if anything they reallly lean into the theater kid aspect but without the need for attention nor constant validation. They know how good they are.

They do still have huge egos though because of it. But recognize much more obvious red flags now.

Mikey not having to use Dr. Delicate touch as often leads to the persona being left at its early stages of Mikey being is say emotionally sensitive to those around him? Like he can read a room in an instant and can read people better. Just because the boys weren’t raised by Rise splint doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen PTSD episodes and the like.

Very much a person who still tries to help everyone emotionally.

Ralphie definitely has more confidence in his brothers, though he still haggles a bit about Little Mikey going out on a mission alone. Who knows his brothers can handle themselves pretty well in a fight, Leon and his silver tongue, Danny and his use of brain games and Mikey with his mastery of ‘Ninja Vanish’.

They can work well on their own and greater when together. Ralphie definitely heads a more ‘bad cop’ vibes to Leon’s ‘suave-cop’, which he uses to his advantage with his size and appearance.

His still a softhearted turtle under that spiky shell, and yes sometimes he doesn’t like being seen as the scary one but it has its advantages! Especially when you’re well trained in a fight.

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

About Sidney Pointdexter🪞

Bio       “ Sidney's been through a lot. Has haunted Amity High since the 50's. He was bullied a lot and had little to no support, got so bad he just couldn't take it anymore...Now as a ghost he wants to use his powers to help people from going through what he did. Problem is his problems followed him to the afterlife, bigger than they ever were when he was alive. He'll have to etheir reflect on the darker side of him or end up succumbing to it. And NO one wants that, especially not him!”

Personality-Sugar-Ice personality(mostly sugar normal, mostly ice mantis), awkward, anxious, quiet, timid, meek, soft-spoken, introverted, shy, friendly, kind-hearted, mild-mannered, loyal, very insecure, secretly vindictive, secret anger issues, emotional, self loathing.

Likes-Danny, Sci-Fi stories/movies, science, space, Bugs(mantises fav), egg creams, flowers, nature, milkshakes, burgers and fries, brain food, public radio, podcasts, Elvis Presley songs, pastel colors, rainbows, books, comic books, reading, cooking, cleaning, organizing, revenge(trying to get out of that).

Dislikes- Bullies, Dash, being pushed around, closed spaces, letting his emotions get the better of him, large crowds, being near mirrors too long(current), messes, loud noises, people looking down on him, being underestimated, himself.

Facts

Headcanon VA. Sean Giambrone-Jeff(Clarence), Scott Menville(Robin, Teen Titans), Rob Paulsen(Donatello, 2012), Josh Brener(Donatello, ROTTMNT), Philippe Martin(Cody-Total Drama).

Abilities:

Normal- Smart(especially in science and biology), can fit through small spaces, can travel + communicate via mirrors or anything with a reflective surface, can make small objects float, cause small wind when grabbing stuff, can temporarily take over someone's body.

Mantis- Can an turn into a mantis monster if pushed hard enough, high pitched screech that can break glass, massive pincers that can slice through metal, climber, sharp teeth, wings and retains intelligence even in mantis form.

Weaknesses- Timid, physically weak(in his normal form), doesn’t do well under pressure, anxiety, clumsy, Poor self-esteem, unstable powers, influenced heavily by his emotions(ESPECIALLY anger), little control of his powers when he's in mantis mode, tends to lose himself in mantis form, holds grudges.

Used to own a pet praying mantis. Also liked to collect insects in his past time🦋

Has claustrophobia(stems from being stuffed into a locker a lot).

Been afraid to look into mirrors after the events at Casper High.

One of the insults people gave him was “bug boy” on account of his love for insects as well as his glasses and thin limbs making him look “buggy”🐛

Still likes to listen to public radio📻

Fav subject in Highschool-Science🧬🔬 Least Fav-PE🏈

Doesn't like to talk about his past life or family.

Wanted to be an entomologist(someone who studies bugs 🐛)

Likes bugs because he can relate to what it’s like to be small and weak and fantasized about being like a mantis, where he’s the strong one where as the rest of the bullies are his little insects at his mercy.

Wears the glasses Danny patched up👓

Used to hang alot around Amity High, In the ghost Zone he’d hang out mostly in the library the most. After the fight at the school, now lives at the Walker's Prison. He turned himself in.

One of the few people that actually respect Walker. Calls him Mr. Walker. He's his favorite. He tends to be gentler with Sid because of him being better behaved and his...situation. Is having people currently look into that.

After the mantis incident, became very scared to leave the prison, being alone. Severely regrets what he almost did, especially to Danny.

Hangs out with the other teens, Ember, Johnny 13 and Kitty the most. Tends to feel like an oddball but they try to make him feel he belongs.

For his monstrous form I chose the mantis because they look scary and in the 50′s(Sid’s timeline), there were a lot of sci-fi creature movies, including 1957′s “The Deadly Mantis”. I also wanted to implement a mirror theme on account of Sid’s mirror🪞

Gets along well with the Lunch Lady. Knew her back when he was alive. She was one of the nicer people to him, before dying(food poisoning or other health, food related reasons), He likes to help her with cooking when he can.

Needs therapy. Tbh a lot of the ghosts(def Danny) could use it.

Here’s the link to his rewrite

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/dnpanimationstudioclone/687345099875680256?source=share

What do u guys think? Any headcanons u have? I’d love to know💖

[blueberry-sleight]

thanks for the links!

my favorite is probably se2 ep10 (the bar ep). It doesn't have a ton of abedison other than that moment when they're walking out of the bar but all the characters do have interesting plots and it builds out the universe without being flash-back heavy. It's obviously not a bottle episode because they GO somewhere, but it gives a bit of those same vibes?

been thinking about my two in progress fics and am pretty stumped on where to take them next, even if ppl finally seem interested in my abed-is-brad fic.

some silly little thoughts:

abed is the kind of autistic to never change his hygiene products do he probably smells like children's shampoo. so ofc that's the smell annie associates with him <3

at some point after they get engaged he goes on a business trip or something. People seem to be flirting with him even more bcs he's famous director dude (and maybe someone posts a pic of him with them online without asking idc) and he panic buys like one of those plastic wedding rings. he's a silly little man who a. likes to proudly show off that somebody choose him ("I have self-esteem falling out of my butt" Okay man but you also have serious abandonment issues so give me some leeway) b. somehow thinks that it is obvious to everyone that annie is a scary attack dog. He thinks he has scary attack dog privileges.

I get to cherry-pick the flashback episode. I just do. anyway in it annie mentions that she does Israli dance class and in an interview irl danny pudi mentioned he used to do polish dance and i have no idea the logistics of this but what if they managed to combine them for a first dance maybe? if they didn't do like Morticia & Gomez's dance ala Saphiya Niigard or something.

we talked about my "who's annie?" conspiracy AU where Troy and Abed are a celebrity couple who very obviously have a third partner but I have a new take on it. What if they just show up with a new brunette fem presenting person every once and a while and pretend it's the same person?

pls send me community things i had surgery a few days ago and I'm bored and also worried about going back to school please send me community stuff

oh damn i hope the surgery went well!! For community stuff, what r ur thoughts on abedison post-canon (or post s3 canon if u pretend that was the end bdjfj)

Here r some fics hopefully these links work

here r some abedison pics

Abedison vids (sorry its all abedison jsjjfg)

Also whats ur fav community episode cause im actually curious on ppls thoughts on that, like mine is probably the chloroform episode or the drug awareness episode oR any of the paintball episodes lolol

[redrobin-detective]

My issue with the Tucker's jealously subplot wasn't just that it was unresolved. It was like: how? He had front-row seats to Danny struggling in school, barely sleeping, living in terror of his own family, getting hurt and beaten and blasted through walls on a daily basis...how could Tucker be jealous for longer than a month? Like, sure, the powers are cool and all, but Tucker knows better than anyone the cost, the baggage the powers came with, and that it never truly got much easier for Danny.

See I guess I can understand it a bit. One, issues like jealousy and such are rarely logical vices and not exactly something one can help. Two, these kids are 14 which scary and astonishing and it's totally believable to me that a young boy who loves superheroes would want powers himself. Three, and this is the big one to me, Tuck's jealousy is less a comment on Danny and more on how Tucker views himself.

We see over and over that the trio are at the bottom end of the totem pole and get bullied and verbally abused daily. That does things to a kid's self esteem. And then your best bud (also possibly the only one Lower on the social hierarchy not that we're keeping score but shh we kinda are bc thats how teens) gets badass powers overnight and is now a superhero? Tuck has seen up close and personal all the shit Danny goes through as Phantom, he knows bc he's been beside Dan the whole time. Hell, in Kindred Spirits it was outright stated that being the 'support' Tuck and Sam often get the short end of the stick with clean up and damage control while Danny is off fighting. He gets all the stress and tension and danger of ghost fighting without the dope powers.

But its more than the powers, Danny is now somebody. He's powerful and kind and a good leader, he's gonna be a beloved superhero if not Ghost King. Early trip ups or not, Danny now has value to society. Sam is rich and determined and smart, she was always gonna go places. Tucker is feeling not only left out by his only real friends but examining his own worth compared to an OP superhero and wealthy kickass heiress. Tucker cannot see his own value and is viewing himself as the perpetual sidekick, destined at best to be Danny/Sam support and at worst to be deemed unworthy and forgotten while they go onto bigger and better things.

This is all nonsensical bc Sam and Danny adore Tucker and he himself has many amazing qualities but self esteem is hard to reason with, much less with a very young, very stressed child. Now a young, stressed child can't really conceptualize the difficult notion of ones own worth to others/society so it primarily manifests in jealousy over Danny's powers. This feels realistic for Tucker and his age group and I approved. I am mad we didn't get the resolution he deserved which would be Sam/Danny validating Tuck's importance as a person and also giving Tuck a chance to be his own man outside the trio. The throwaway Tucker is Mayor now at the end of PP was an attempt to wrap it all but it was disgusting and we don't talk about that foolishness.

I really liked the idea of Tucker running for Student Council President and taking an active part in the school OUTSIDE of his friends/ghosts. It would have given him a confidence boost, a chance to put his skills (organization, leadership when need be, planning, technology) to use and earn some credits for himself. Plus he could be more of an aid to Phantom by giving his friend some leeway in school with having some authority. That would be the confidence boost he needed but didn't get. But in my mind eventually Tuck/Sam/Danny DO talk about it and Tuck gets some relief and goes on to be successful and happy with his own endeavors while still being a close and integral part of Team Phantom.

[violetmuses]

Always, Always || Drabble 3

TITLE: Always, Always || A Gordon “Gordo” Stevens Drabble 

FANDOM: For All Mankind (Apple+ Series) 

CHARACTER: Gordon “Gordo” Stevens 

MAIN PAIRING: Gordon “Gordo” Stevens + OC Janine Franklin  

MAIN STORYLINE: When someone “new” enters the facility, Gordo just can’t stop thinking about her. 

Author’s Note: Hey! Chapter 3 is here and there’s a time jump for Season 2 in 1982! As a warning, this chapter discusses insecurities, fat-shaming, low self-esteem issues, and other possibly triggering subject matter. Feedback would be greatly appreciated and thank you so much for reading my work as always. - V. 💜

Tagging:  @lacontroller1991 @ed-baldwin

Always, Always Masterlist 🚀

Main Masterlist 💜

_________________

1982

“Hey, fat-ass!” Some idiot had yelled out loud from their car and blasted music while Gordo walked through one local store parking lot. It’s not the first time that people insulted him, but Gordo knows how much time passed since his early days. 

In his prime, recognized astronaut Gordon Stevens could travel the moon and hop-scotch its craters or crevices in nearly top shape, joyfully filling that standard-issue uniform. His deserved space suit also felt light back then. 

These days, Gordo needs every pair of pants to fit several sizes larger. Despite his insecurities, he ignores that idiot and moves along. Talking back helps nothing, even out of self-defense. 

You ain’t that spring chicken anymore. Gordo reminds himself, shifting into autopilot and loading the back of his car’s trunk with groceries. 

Meanwhile Tracey’s back home after work at the facility and planning to make dinner not long after Gordo returns to the house. 

 At this point, Danny’s a student enrolled with Annapolis. On the other hand, Jimmy, his youngest boy thriving in high school, is probably jolting through Atari games at home to relax. 

Unfortunately, that vivid mental image of their sons, accomplished young men all these years later, doesn't perk up Gordo’s mood. 

At least not yet. 

Just go home. Gordo’s thoughts affirm. He locks the truck and moves out of that parking lot, heading to this beautiful place in the suburbs. 

_________

Once Jimmy has left the dinner table to power through homework and sleep, Gordo and Tracey enjoy the rest of their meal, finally having their own conversation. 

“You’re not gonna believe who’s started teaching classes for one of the departments.” Tracey seems humored between bites of this meal, laughing for a moment. Her own Southern drawl reminds of happier times. 

“Who?” Gordo narrows both eyes across the table at his future ex-wife. Gordo and Tracey have been separated for a while, but this place would still be collectively shared, hopefully at least until Jimmy moves out or heads to college someday. 

“Janine.” Tracey smiles over her glass of water. 

“Wow.” Despite giving out one brief response, It’s not long before Gordo almost spills his glass of water. “How is she doing?” 

“See for yourself.” Tracey winks, but remains silent otherwise. 

________

The facility hustled with noise that following day, moving along with the exact fervor as some kind of train station. He just wanted to be invisible. As of this moment, Gordo’s weight gain still veiled  him from judging looks as he hid in the classroom. 

“Hello, everyone. Take a seat and we’ll get started.” One voice makes an announcement, but Gordo can’t really see who the person is until everyone else sits down at their nearby desks.  

Wait. Tracey wasn't joking. Gordo thinks to himself and opens a notebook for the sake of response. 

Janine is here, Truly here. She turned around and started writing information on the green chalkboard, affirming her name and course title. 

Janine’s own dark hair is much curlier now, fitting ‘82 faster than storefront fashion magazines that Gordo has noticed. Still needing glasses, Jan’s plated name tag clips on the side of her blouse, but she’s worn slacks instead of a skirt with heels. 

Damn. Gordo pouts, halfway listening for once as Janine turns around and fires up that projector, explaining bullet points of this course for attendees. 

_______

“Keep up with your assignments and we will review everything when you return. Have a good weekend.” Janine ends the class and bids farewell, collecting her essentials while people start filing out of this room. 

It’s now or never. Gordo thinks. Pull yourself together, Dammit. 

“Excuse me?” Once everyone seems to be out of view and Janine closes the front door, Gord allows himself to speak up. 

“Yes?” Janine answers out of respect but doesn’t immediately give full eye contact, sure at the moment that one of these new students had questions during this so-called opening week. 

“It’s been too long. I’m not sure if you recognize me, but…” Gordo trails off his voice once bright realization moves along Janine’s face. 

Gordo could cry. While quite some time has passed and adorable laugh lines have reached her face, Janine Franklin would forever be pretty while happy. 

“Gordo?” It isn’t long before Jan’s voice picks up inflection and she opens both arms to hug him. 

Gordo would be foolish to refuse this embrace. Ten years ago, he could barely process the idea of Janine greeting him in the hallway, let alone actually hugging him. 

As these two embrace, Janine is so warm against Gordo’s now plump body. In return, he begins to wonder if anyone else earns the same affection from Janine at home. 

Gordo dares to rock that one hug with Janine, praying to the universe that she isn’t uncomfortable if he lingers this hold just a little bit longer. In all honesty, he can’t even remember the last time Tracey just held his hand despite their separation. 

“It’s so nice to see you, Gordo.” Janine responds once space opens between herself and Gordo. The classroom is silent, offering peace to Gordo’s racing thoughts.  

“You too.” He smiles and chuckles right through his Southern accent.

Maybe life isn’t so bad after all. 

[rogerswick]

( joe keery, cis male, he/him ) the stowe ski resort welcomes AUGUST “GUS” ROGERS-BRUNSWICK! they’re a 25 year-old HEIR. the staff says they’re quite APPRECIATIVE, but i heard they can also be pretty NAIVE. rumor has it that HE’S THE GUARDIAN TO HIS LITTLE SISTER, and they like to spend their free time LEARNING HOW TO COOK. ( madge, 25, est )

name: august roman rogers-brunswick nickname: gus, wick age: twenty-two gender: cis male pronouns: he/him orientation: bisexual birthplace: manhattan, united states current residence: taos, new mexico family: lionel rogers-brunswick (father, deceased), jean rogers-brunswick (mother, deceased), daniel rogers-brunswick (older brother, deceased), eleanor rogers-brunswick (little sister) faceclaim: joe keery

traits: friendly, respectful, sad, naive, spoiled, lost, grieving alignment: neutral good

- - - - - - - - - - -

second of three, august was the prince of nothing. The Plan™ was for danny to get trained up to take over the company from their dad. there was nothing planned for august, other than getting caught in the safety net of the family's success. he wasn't really good at anything if shredding the self-esteem of your peers in school doesn't count.

but, there was a conference in california. the plane went down colorado, wiping out half the family… and the three people who would have any idea how to manage. a fortune lands in the hands of the fuck-up, and the custody of his little sister. he lived a sheltered life as a rich boy, but he was sheltered from the other side. with the defenses down. he got pecked by the vultures swooping down on the company. his parents' executives, his supposed war council, told him how much of a disappointment he'd be to his family.

a month later, he and elsie packed their things into his car and gus drove as far as he could (subconsciously, in the direction of the plane crash), ending up in taos. it's not as though no one knows where they went, he uses company credit cards, and fields phone calls from the c.o.o.

presently:

he was a dick, but he's lost everything that mattered to him. he's been stripped to this version of himself that tiptoes around all topics

he's still learning how to take care of lil sis and himself

he takes anti-depressants

does this place have a stray issue? there were paw prints in the snow...

plotting:

neighbours. gus has asked for a favour every day since he's arrived

from his past. the rogers-brunswick are new money from nyc, if someone knows him from there. or in social circles that gus would tread

executives. if your new boss fucked off to some ski resort, you'd go after them.