#also we had the first battle in a while and it was BRUTAL

[heartlogan]

the story ends

✮— logan x f!reader (set in xmen days of future past)

✮— summary: the day that logan lost you

✮— a/n: again, only my second time writing for logan so be gentle pls, i specialise in angst but this isn’t my best </3 (also, could be connected to all coming back to me — my first logan fic. no reading order!)

✮— warnings: probably ooc! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, depictions of dying, it’s set in the original timeline so it is sad, talk of loss and death, one (1) moment of affection, major angst, guilt, sentinels, canon typical violence, & gore (ish, but to be safe), BLOOD, pronoun ‘she’ used, unspecified mutant reader, lmk if theres more!

MASTERLIST

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

There are so many things you had lived to regret in your life, so many things that you had dwindled on instead of simply moving forwards. And in the end, none of it had ever mattered. No matter what you had or hadn’t done, life had led you here — to the very end of the world.

You hadn’t fought in wars like Logan had, weren’t used to the brutality of it all. Fighting, and battles, all of that you were familiar with. But not this. This was on another level.

The X-Men had been helpless to fight against this, unable to resist such a tidal wave of hatred and murder. The Sentinels had destroyed so many of your kind already, that there were barely any of you left to fight anyway. And those of you who had lived through the initial slaughters had been scattered across the globe, made to search for one another while constantly trying to evade those seeking n you out to kill you.

It was exhausting. All of it. And it wasn’t only you who felt that way — those remaining were all tired. Tired of the constant movement, tired of the constant loss, tired of the neverending chase. You could see it on everyone’s faces — Charles looked as bad as you had ever seen him, struggling to cope with the loss of almost all of his students. And Ororo, you could tell, was fighting to hold herself together. She had lost too many people, too many friends. Magneto was no stranger to loss, especially like this, but it was written all over him, too.

And there was Logan.

Logan who, in all the time you had known him, had never stopped fighting. For all of that to be in vain was clawing at him, tearing him down. There was a new age to him, and you weren’t talking about the grey hairs that seeped from his temples. He seemed far too old to still be fighting, to still spend every living moment trying to stay alive, trying to keep those he cared about safe. Everyone had lost so much since the Sentinels appeared.

“How much longer do you think we can stay here?” You asked Storm, gazing out at the sky ahead of you, glancing back towards the jet that was stood on the makeshift runway. She stayed quiet long enough for you to grow concerned and look her way, and you saw the unease to her stance. “We need to leave, don’t we?”

“It’s not safe.” She replied distantly, looking out towards the cloudy sky. Your brows furrowed instantly, and you turned to look at the clouds once more.

“Nowhere is safe, Ororo.” You stated firmly, trying not to let the emotion betray you in your voice. She seemed to come back to herself at your words, and you just about registered her turning to look at you. You hadn’t said anything that she didn’t already know to be true, but still, the delivery of the fact left her with a stinging feeling in her chest. An aching sort of pain, a longing for a home that none of you could ever return to.

She thought of the mansion, and tried to force her way past the memories of it torn apart, destroyed. It was easy to forget, in times like these, exactly how things had been before. But Storm could practically envision it all in her mind, the bustling halls between classes, the crackle of fire as the adults shared a drink after a rough battle, the constant noise of mutants embracing their powers.

That was meant to be a mutant safe haven, and it was gone. She knew you were right — nowhere was safe for your kind, not anymore.

“I know.”

You let her words settle, and chose to linger and look at the view, even as Storm turned and made her way back to the plane.

Admittedly, the view wasn’t much, but it was nice to see the sky without a plane of glass in the way. All of you spent so much time inside the jet now, barely able to land without Sentinels descending upon you. It was somewhat safer in the sky, although there had been some close calls.

The wind whistled in your ears, a welcome breath against your skin, and you easily preferred this to the way it usually whipped against the side of the jet.

You heard the shuffle of feet in your direction before you felt his presence, a warm hand coming to rest on the small of your back. It was soothing, warming you up as you let the cold breeze surround you.

“‘S almost time to go,” Logan told you, speaking quietly. His gruff voice still sent shivers down your spine, despite his warm hand on your back. He turned to look down at you after a second, eyes scanning over the entirety of you, analysing. “You ready?” He asked after another moment, knowing you always tried to take in as much of the fresh air as you could.

“I’ll just be a sec.” You responded calmly, breathing in deeply, finding comfort in the way his palm moved with your body. When he didn’t move, you turned to look at him, finding him still watching you. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile at his loving gaze, albeit somewhat weakly. You placed a hand on the side of his face, brows creasing. “Everything okay, Logan?” You asked, concerned, because he seemed off, even though everything in the world was off. It was something more than that.

He nodded as your thumb stroked his cheekbone, trying to provide some amount of comfort in a world where comfort didn’t exist.

“I’ll wait with you.”

You smiled, trailing your hand down from his face until you reached his own palm, which you gripped tightly.

Slowly, you noticed the sun beginning to shine on the horizon. You knew you needed to be gone before it had risen fully. “Don’t worry, I’m right behind you.” You said reassuringly, tilting your head and squeezing his palm tightly at his uncertain look. “Promise.” You added, and he hesitated for a moment longer, before turning away, squeezing your hand once in return before he let it go fully.

He seemed reluctant to leave your side, even as he walked away. You shook your head, grinning softly, glad for the few good things you had left in your life. Logan was everything to you — he had been for more than a few years.

You took one more glance at the rising sun, before turning away, ready to head after Logan. But then your head tilted, brows furrowing in confusion. There was a buzzing feeling in your hands, your heart speeding up its pace, and you looked around in concern.

That was when you saw it — the Sentinel heading straight for the jet on the right.

Ororo was closest, and she hadn’t seen it yet.

“Storm! On your right!” You yelled, desperation leaking into your voice as you watched her spin, finally noticing the murder bot creeping up on her. Even from this distance, you could see the way her eyes went white, lighting up as the wind picked up suddenly, rain slowly starting to leech from the clouds above that were quickly multiplying with the force of Storm’s power.

You couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief as she struck it with lightning, summoning winds to throw it over the edge of the cliff side, because you knew it wasn’t over — more were coming, if they weren’t already here.

Starting towards Logan, you only just registered the way his eyes widened and he moved towards you before it dawned on you.

You hadn’t checked your six.

Before you could even turn, you felt it.

When you looked down, you saw the Sentinel spearing you through the stomach, the wound far too big to comprehend.

Blood was tickling the back of your throat, and you couldn’t even swallow around it. It was too late, you noticed distantly, as you looked towards where Logan was trying to get to you, seeming as though he was moving in slow motion.

The Sentinel ripped its limb from your body, and your knees buckled, sending you to the ground.

It was a very far away realisation, the fact that you would die here, in mere moments. Instead, your main focus was Logan, watching the anguish and denial plaster his face. You barely heard the other Sentinels rising from the cliff side behind you, but you knew they were there.

And you knew that the others knew it too.

Storm had made her way towards Logan, and you hadn’t even noticed how close she was to him before then. She must’ve noticed the Sentinel approaching you at the same time he had. Her face was painted with grief, evident in every crease of her expression, in the very way she moved. She placed her palms against Logan’s chest, and pushed.

“Logan, it’s too late. Please. It’s too late. We need to go.” Ororo begged, her voice shaking with every word that left her mouth. She couldn’t bring herself to look at you, to see the blood that had started trickling from the corners of your mouth, painting your skin. She didn’t want to see the life leave your eyes.

“Logan!” Charles’ voice raised, trying to be heard over Storm’s power. Logan hadn’t even heard his wheelchair in the jet, too focused on the way you looked at him, your eyes dimming with every moment he couldn’t get to you.

He felt Erik before he had even realised the man had descended the ramp, felt the pull of his powers. The way he forced Logan’s skeleton to bend to his will, to step away from you. From the love of his life. The only thing he had managed to keep hold of in this apocalyptic world.

“No, no, no, no,” Logan begged, yelling for you, waiting for you to snap out of it, to just get up. “C’mon! C’mon, get up!” He yelled, trying to push against Erik’s power, but finding he couldn’t even take another step towards you. He felt Storm push harder on his chest, but he didn’t notice, too busy watching the way your head tilted, your eyes glassy, the way your lips lifted at the edges, showing just a flash of bloody teeth. You smiled at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Storm said, as Erik finally managed to pull Logan some steps back, going up the ramp.

It was the hardest Logan had ever fought against his power, which made lifting the plane simultaneously all the more difficult. But Erik focused his mind, pulling the plane from the ground as Storm finally released Logan to press the button to lift the ramp.

“She’s gone, Logan.” Charles said sadly, feeling the way your consciousness drifted from his grasp.

Logan just caught the slump of your body to the ground through the swarm of Sentinels as the ramp closed fully. Erik allowed him to fall to his knees when he realised he had stopped fighting, but kept a loose grip on the adamantium in his skeleton out of fear that he might tear apart the plane to get to your body.

A sullen silence took over the jet, everybody resigned to loss by now, but for Logan this was different. He stared at the ramp, unable to get the image of your empty eyes out of his mind. Your body, slumped on the ground, left there to rot.

And all he could think was that if he had only stayed with you, you might still be here. If it weren’t for him, you might be alive.

[sayruq]

Hamas propaganda is so much more effective than Israeli propaganda despite not having the support of seemingly every western news organisation. It's simple, clear, cohesive, easy to understand, and therefore believable.

For example, Hamas will film themselves handing over healthy looking hostages to the Red Cross and then interact with them right before they leave to show how friendly the captors and captives have gotten. You watch the videos and you understand everything that is being conveyed immediately.

And it worked. Even the people in my life, who aren't watching the conflict as closely as we have, have seen these images and have spoken in varying levels of surprise at how 'nice' and 'hospitable' Hamas was to the hostages. Keep in mind that these videos came out after weeks of billions of people witnessing the brutal and systemic murder of Palestinian people. The contrasting gentleness of the hostage exchange stood out greatly.

Israeli propaganda is chaotic, it conflicts itself, it's complicated. Look at this for example

In order to explain why the hostages were so friendly with their captors, first, it was because the hostages had Stockholm Syndrom. Naturally, social media, their second greatest enemy, was awash with people refuting the existence of such a syndrome. So, it became that the hostages were actually being held at gun point. While, there were guns present during the hostage handovers, no one was pointing them at hostages in the videos that we all have available. No one was being hostile either. Now, we have the sedative explanation which again can be easily refuted by the videos we all have access to because the hostages didnt seem particularly drowsy. So, we have hostages with Stockholm Syndrome, who had guns pointed at them, and who were sedated. That's just too much. How can Stockholm Syndrome coexist with being held at gun point in front of the Red Cross? Why would they need to threaten the hostages if they're sedated? Which explanation can the average zionist go with? Which one can a neutral party accept?

The same goes for the war propaganda. On one hand you have American officials insisting that Israel would never harm Palestinian civilians on purpose but on the other hand, you have soldiers filming themselves shooting recklessly and with wild abandon into thin air with the implication being that they're battling off screen Hamas. You also have Israel insisting that hospitals, schools and refugee camps are secret Hamas bases but all we are seeing is civilians getting murdered in protected areas. When it comes to war reports, they can't decide if they've killed 1,000 or 5,000 Hamas fighters. No wonder even Israeli commentators have given up on the promise of the complete eradication of Hamas.

The Palestinian resistance have also released war propaganda. Simple, well edited videos showing their fighters actually battling Israeli soldiers and tanks, sometimes very up close. The videos are similar despite featuring different confrontations in the battlefield over a period of time. It's easy for anyone to spot an Al Qassam or Al Quds video. It's even easier to accept their daily war reports because we've seen them back up their claims. The numbers they give are consistent with their capabilities as well as various indicators such as Israel being forced to decommission their older tanks for the war in Gaza. Would they be doing that if they weren't losing their top line tanks fast?

Many zionists have spent the past 2 months confused as to why the whole world has seemingly turned against Israel. I'd point the finger at Israel if I were them, both due to its actions in Gaza and its inability to continue fooling the world.

[ourg0dsal]

Gideon Nav CANNOT Die. Hold on- I know... but give me one second and I'll explain.

So, as I said before Gideon Nav cannot die, or at least her body can't. Cause clearly (spoiler warning) Gideon Nav died at the end of Gideon the Ninth. There is no avoiding that.

But! If you have read all the books GtN, HtN, and NtN including all of the accompanying short stories (tho I will admit I have not read The Mysterious Study of Dr. Sex yet) then there is a better understanding of the timeline of the whole story outside of just what the three main books give you. Specifically and especially with Gideon's body. But also there are many times In Gideons life were she has faced near death events or events that she should not have survived from and still was breathing on the other side.

To go in chronological order of these events, when she was first born she was found in a container held by the air depraved suit of her mother. And while ofc In the book it does state that her mother had redirected her air supply to Gideon, but it is simply being stated to cover all my bases.

Then the 200 sons and daughters massacre when Gideon was 1 (or 2 im not sure) when she inhaled poisonous air without dying. Which led ofc to the Reverend Mother and Father fearing the ground she walked. And this is a big one because, it literally creates waves in the plot. It's a defining point of Harrow and Gideons relationship. That Gideon did not die when she was supposed to.

Later in the story Gideon talks with Pal when she believes Harrow to be a murderer and openly admits to him that "she nearly killed me a half dozen times growing up" which obviously in context was to emphasize on the brutal relationship between her and Harrow. But this could also be other times where miraculously Gideon survived death when she shouldn't have. Because as we know from the first confrontation between Harrow and Gideon. Harrow doesnt hold back for her.

Finally of all the events where Gideon escapes death, this one actually happens within the main story of Gideon the Ninth. When Harrow siphons from Gideon to retrieve one of the challenge keys. And at the end when Gideon passes out, it is narrated ""ha-ha," said Gideon, "first time you didn't call me Griddle," AND DIED." Now, this could obviously just be the snarkiness of Gideon narrating. Or something incredibly clever left behind by Tamsyn Muir for a book series that is so clearly meant to be reread. But ofc to do my rounds the next line after does state "well, passed out. But it felt a hell of a lot like dying." But then immediately after "wake up had an air of ressurection." Which honestly feels like Tamysn Muir teasing the readers at this point. The question then becomes rather, which one was the tease and which one was foreshadowing/ evidence.

Now the point of listing all of these events is that in all of these cases the chances of death are so incredibly high that for most its a miracle she's alive. Ofc most notably for the siphoning trial and the poision gas, but none the less there is proof within the written story and and out that Gideon has looked death in face and moved on with maybe a headache. And it wasn't just in her child hood this is something she can just do. Some recreated in the written story! Because as Pal said. Even with the siphoning challenge done perfectly the chances of leaving Cam with severe brain damage was far to high. And Gideon didn't even suffer that.

Sadly, despite all these Gideon gets to the final battle and fights Cytherea and does die. At the hands of a particularly pointy fence. Or was it truly the fence that did her in? Rather than the lyctorship ritual that was started seconds afterwards.

My full theory, isnt just that Gideon Nav can't die. It's that Gideon Nav wouldn't have been able to die... If Harrow hadn't sucked her soul out. There are at the very least 8 seperate events that Gideon should have died, two of which were nearly gauranteed, but she was ended by a piece of metal. Yes, a very well placed piece a metal, but the point still up to that point she had faced worse a came out unscathed.

If Harrow had not completed the lyctor ritual, Gideon would not have died. Wether or not through resurrection or simply walking it off. Gideon's body has some sort of necromantic attributes to it that keep her alive. We see this in the Untitled Entry short story with Judith Deuteros that describes Gideons body, as it does not rot, cannot be injured, cannot be fed to animals forced or otherwise. And that is all before Jod ever gets a look at the body, because otherwise he would have known Gideon was his daughter before the later events of Harrow the Ninth.

And ofc during the first challenge when Harrow uses Gideon as her eyes to be able to see the construct in the other room and Gideon is able to see the thanergetic signatures that Harrow remarks should be impossible. (I assume because the process is Harrow extracting information (Gideons eyesight) from Gideon and so Gideon should not also be receiving information (the ability to see the signatures)) unless Gideon had some form of necromantic abilities, which she was tested for as a kid and apparently did not have. Alongside not having the correct attitude to be a nun of the ninth. And so we can round it out to be her body being naturally necromantic leaving Gideon without the ability to use it. (Which Is a jump from the actual point we are attempting to use, but for now this stops us from assuming Gideon as any sort of necromantic ability which is a theory all on its own. One that I personally have no evidence for or against)

Now, that I have hopefully made both my Ap Lit and Lang teachers proud with my 3 am essay, I must give you the real tragedy of Gideon the Ninth. Had Gideon not died, had Harrow been unable to complete the lyctor ritual for emotional reasons or otherwise, had Harrow not become a lyctor and killed cytherea. Gideon would have had to watch Harrow and Cam be killed, possibly even Corona, Judith and Ianthe. And then to be used for Cythereas own motives. Tamysn Muir beautifully set up the story so that the best possible outcome could have happened. Had Gideon not died. Everyone else would have. And "Camilla the sixth was no idiot" cam knew and accepted this whereas Harrow never would have. And so the unkillable Gideon had to die, and forcing Harrows hand was the only way to do it.

[goingsunnythousandmerry]

Wound Care

First OneShot. Wrote it awhile ago and thought I’d share and see if I should continue.

Summary: Post Enies Lobby. Chopper is having you, a former nurse patch everyone up while he recovers.

Features: Zoro NSFW, Luffy NSFW/fluff

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, vaginal sex, pet names, inexperience, butt slapping, straddling, slight public/voyeurism. I don’t own these characters.

Wound Care-

Zoro and Luffy

It’s post Enies Lobby and Everyone has taken a beating. You are on the going Merry with the Crew helping them get patched up.You were a nurse before joining the crew and with Chopper still recovering his ability to move you are doing the treating on his orders.

First you take Chopper to the infirmary and get him patched up, then send him to evaluate everyone else. While you wait for your next patient you look in the mirror noticing the blood, dirt, sweat, and tears you are covered in. It was a brutal fight for the whole crew and you barely managed to get away. At this point you were hoping you and Chopper had enough supplies and antibiotics from keeping everyone's wounds from getting infected. To help your cause you try to wash up in the bathroom sink off the infirmary. You open a closet and find your old nurse uniform you brought as a joke to play on Sanji.

“Well it’s clean.” You say to yourself with a shrug and decide to change into the garment.

It was the cliche nurses uniform from back in the day, short white dress with a red plus sign on the right breast. There was a little hat, but you weren’t going to wear it. You had gotten stronger since you last wore it, so it was much more form fitting now. It was cutting lower than you remembered as the zipper wouldn't go up higher than half way up your large breasted chest. It was also hitting a lot higher on your legs than you recalled, barely covering your ass. You shrugged and again convinced yourself it was fine.

“At least it’s clean.” You whisper again with a sigh.

First you treated Nami who came down the stairs, saw you and broke down in a fit of laughter.

“Wow, Y/N you look ridiculous. Don’t let Sanji down here, you'd have to resuscitate him!”

“I just wanted a change of clothes and this was all I could find, but thanks for the advice, Nami.” You reply with a sigh.

You dress her wounds. The whole time she was snickering at your outfit and begging you to put on the little hat. You finally broke and did it, figuring your pride could handle it after the work you just put in, in battle. Nami laughed and thanked you. You asked her to go send for Zoro. As she used the stairs to leave the infirmary, she paused at the top of the steps before opening the door to leave.

“Y/N you look hot, you should dress like that more often!” She yelled back with a laugh and a wink as she opened the door and left.

Zoro

Suddenly the door loudly swung open. Down the steps came Zoro. He paused on the second steps when he saw you. Now Zoro didn’t come down laughing, but he did give you his ridiculously cocky smirk. He then refused to make eye contact with you as he entered the room. You thought you caught a glimpse of redness on his cheeks as he walked towards the patient bed. He sat on the edge of the patient bed while you prepped supplies.

While you prepared supplies, Zoro sat quietly looking at his hands. You could’ve sworn you felt eyes on you still, but whenever you looked at him, he was looking down with his arms folded and that slight cocky grin waiting for you to fix him up. You turned around to begin examining Zoro’s words and heard the door swing open. Down the steps came Chopper. Chopper immediately blushed at your outfit.

“Wow Y/N you look so official! I wish I had a doctor's coat, so we could really do this right!” He says with a swoon.

“Well, Chopper, I will see what material I can scrounge up when we get back to Water 7 and try to make you one? How does that sound?” You reply with a soft smile at the reindeer doctor.

“That wouldn’t make me feel like more of a doctor or anything, you jerk.” He responds as his cheeks light up pink and he begins dancing back and forth.

“Well if you two are just going to play dress up, I’ll go look for some celebratory sake.” Zoro griped.

“Hold it right there, Zoro. You need your wounds cleaned, stitched and patched up! Y/N get a set of vitals when you are done fixing him up, then give him a dose of these antibiotics.” Chopper responded.

“Yes, Doctor Chopper. I’ll get right on it.” You said with a smile as you watched the reindeer swoon and run off.

Zoro sat in silence while you prepared some hot water to clean his wounds.

Finally he broke the silence.

“My wounds aren’t even that bad, why do you need to clean and dress them? They will heal on their own, they always do.”

“Zoro, we all received a lot of open wounds in that battle, which means we are all more susceptible to infection. Meaning, we need to clean and dress them as soon as possible. This also means we will have to examine them regularly over the next few days and make sure we continue to keep them clean and dry, so they don’t get infected. I’ll go as fast as I can. However, if you don’t stop whining I’ll have to ask Chopper for a special exception, a shot of antibiotics in your ass...” You reply knowing the swordsman doesn’t love needles.

“Fine”

“Shirt off please Zoro.”

You scooted a stool in front of the swordsman. He winced as he took off his shirt. He had dried blood scattered across his chest. A few stitches had been pulled from when you patched him up after the fight at the Galley-La office. You rested an arm on his and examined his shoulders and neck for more wounds. He just kept staring down, trying a little too hard to resist the urge to stare at your cleavage.

You next examined his back. Mostly bruising, but you noticed a bit of dried blood. You knew his next shower would probably take that off if he didn’t let you get that far, like usual. You then looked at his pants and noted a rip to his upper thigh. You also needed to look closer at a cut at his hip stretching below his waistline.

“Zoro, I’m going to need pants off too. I have to look at these cuts, they look deep. What are they from?”

“Probably a rock from that giant stupid giraffe.” He says with a grunt.

Zoro rolled his eyes and slowly began reaching for the zipper of his pants. He continues to not make eye contact.

You sit back on your stool in front of him and just watch the show.

“You’re just going to watch me?”

“Yep.”

“First you’re all forward and ask me to take off my shirt and pants and now this? I didn’t come here to be a show for you.” Zoro says as he finishes unzipping and pulling off his pants.

You had guessed he would be a brief guy and well… you were right. You tried not to look too obviously, but his hips and abs without his haramaki were driving you wild. You couldn’t help but wonder what lay beneath those briefs. You take a deep breath and begin soaking another cloth in your bowl of hot water.

“You came here because Chopper made you. Now, you and I both know if I take my eyes off you for a second you will walk off and go take a nap. Chopper will then yell at both of us. I don’t like being yelled at by Chopper. Forgive me for choosing the show. Sit your ass down.”

“I don’t need this. Some sake and a nap would fix me up better than you could.” Zoro retorts sitting down tossing his pants next to him.

You scoot your stool closer and grab the warm cloth out of the basin, pushing it against his leg wound. He squirms.

“They let you be a nurse? What kind of bedside manor is this?” He yells continuing to squirm.

“That’s it!” You say loudly as you stand up from your stool. You push the swordsman back flat against the bed and straddle him. His eyes widen and his whole body tenses underneath you. He grunts as he hits the bed.

“Listen here Zoro. I am cleaning, stitching, and dressing your wounds. I’ll do your leg wound last, because apparently, you are going to continue to kick and whine just like last time. This time, we try a new way, my way. I am going to sit on you and get this done, so you can’t go anywhere. Maybe that will help keep you still. Now shut your mouth and let me work.” You sternly respond as you begin cleaning the wound at his right hip.

“You really don’t think I can lift you off me?” Zoro replies sitting up on his elbows to look you in the eye. His cocky smirk returns and one of his eyebrows raises with inquiry.

“Try me.” You say, briefly making eye contact with him and smirking. You then pull a fresh warm cloth out of the basin and push it on one of his reopened finger pistol wounds on his chest.

“Ahh!” He yelped. Leaning back. After wincing he got back up on his elbows.

“I’ll be gentle if you stay quiet and still.”

You begin lightly scrubbing the dried blood off his wounds and chest. You hadn’t noticed the slight bit of rocking you were doing as you leaned forward into him to clean and lean back to reach beside you to soak your cloth.

Zoro got very quiet and stopped looking at you; he just looks down at his chest. You quickly finish wiping his chest, then do a quick rinse of his right arm.

“Perfect, all clean.” You say examining your work for a moment. You start to look around for your needle and thread. You put your arms on his and gently brush your hands down his arms as you look over his shoulders for your supplies. You continue to shift on his lap as you look. His breathing began to change.

You notice you left them on the rolling table holding your supplies. It must have been bumped when you decided sitting on him was the only way you were going to get this done. It was now up towards the end of the bed by Zoro's head.

“Are you done using me as your seat?” He said once again without looking at you.

“No. Not until I’m done stitching you up and dressing your wounds”.

You pushed him back down against the patient bed and leaned across him to reach the needle and thread. Struggling to grab the thread spool from your position you pawed at it. Not noticing your partially exposed breasts bouncing in the swordsman's face.

You finally grab it and sit back on Zoro’s lap smiling at your triumph to get the thread. When you sit back down however something is different. Zoro’s lap is more raised than before.

You stop looking at the needle and thread and instead glance up at the swordsman. He gets back up on his elbows. His jaw is clenched, his head is turned to the wall beside him, his eyes are closed, and a faint blush rests on his cheeks. He grunts.

“If it wasn’t for your rocking and leaning your chest in my face, everything would have been fine! He blurts, He opens his eyes and turns his head to you, putting his hands on your hips and he sits up fully.

You blush realizing what has happened. You look down at your pelvis one over the other and chuckle.

“Well Zoro here I was thinking you didn’t want your wounds treated. Turns out I was just treating the wrong one.” You say to him naughtily as you spread your legs wider over his rising bulge under his briefs.”

His expression softens and he makes one of his classic cocky smirks.

“Are you going to finally prove to me you can be a good nurse after all?” He whispers in your ear, placing a piece of hair behind it. His left arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer. His right pulls your chin up to his face.

He kisses you gently at first, but gets more eager as he feels your arms wrap around his neck and you kiss him back. He begins to push his tongue into your mouth. You allow it to enter and dance with yours. You begin to rifle fingers through his hair. His right hand dropping from your chin to the zipper on your chest.

“Finally time to get rid of this stupid costume.” he whispers.

He slowly starts kissing down your neck as you pull him closer, fingers still wrapped in his hair. His arms are pulling the dress off your shoulders.

“No bra. I thought so.” He says slowly alternating between kissing and biting your shoulder.

He pulls the dress to your abdomen. Making you moan in his ear. He chuckles at this. He drops one hand to your waist and the other begins playing with your breasts. You begin kissing his neck, lifting your hips up to pull the skirt of your dress up. Zoro’s mouth, now moving to suck and bite at your soft buds.

“Zoro” you barely muster out.

The hand that was playing with your breasts now drops to feel between your thighs. His mouth continues to work at your buds and his fingers rub up and down your slick folds. He stops nipping at your buds a moment to look up at him with a soft chuckle and smirk.

“And no underwear. My we are a naughty one aren't we? And dripping for me already?”

He drops both of his arms to your waist and lifts you off him enough, so he can lift his hips and take off his briefs. You smile intoxicated in him and his body. You rifle a hand through his hair. He moves his briefs and his long length emerges. He sits back down on the bed and sets you down on his lap. His long length hits your bell as he does.

“Well princess, we probably don’t have much time before Chopper comes back. How about we make this quick and revisit the rest later? He asks, starting to use 2 of his large fingers to circle your clit. He brings his lips back to smash against yours. His other hand moves his bulging length to start rubbing against your entrance.

“Zoro. Need you.” You say pulling your lips away from him to catch your breath.

He begins taking small nibbles down your neck to your breasts. You moan in his ear. He pulls off your breast and looks at you with a soft smile.

“As you wish, Princess.” He says slamming into you with no warning.

You jump and moan. It was startling and a bit painful, but he felt so good. He then starts slowly bouncing you on his cock, continuing to use one hand to circle your clit. As you smash your lips back into him. One of your hands feeling up his chest, the other thumbing the nape of his neck.

You begin to bounce on his cock as he starts to moan into your neck. Tits bouncing to tap his chin.

“Zoro.” You moan.

You push him back flat against the bed alternating between moving your hips in circles with his length inside you and bouncing up and down as you use his chest to support you. His cocky smirk returns as he watches you working to please yourself on his length. You lean over him and put your arms beside his. He wraps his arms around your hips and begins moving you at a pace of his choice. Your eyes begin to close as you start to feel the ecstasy building in your belly.

“Zoro.” You moan again.

“Not yet, princess.”

He pushes you back flat against the bed with ease, never leaving you as he does. He places one hand above your head and one on your breast. He kisses you and begins pounding you harder and faster. Your eyes start to cross. His length bottoms out in you. He was slamming you into this bed and not being quiet about it either. His hands moved to your hips to allow him more to grab. He moves his thumb down to place pressure on your clit rubbing with it while he pulls your hips closer into him. You can’t see straight.

“Zo…”

“Almost.” He says partially lifting your body off the bed.

You squirt all over his cock and feel it rush down your thighs. He finishes a few last thrusts through your ecstasy. Then, you feel his member quiver inside you and once again feel yourself dripping. He lies down on top of you for a moment before rolling over and pulling you across his chest.

“Y/N. you good?”

You swallow hard and move your hair out of your face. Still not sure if you can speak.

“Yeah.” You say with a silent laugh as you try to catch your breath.

“I think doing that again will help my recovery. Doctors orders.” He says with a smirk as you lay on his chest.

He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and looks down at you. You look at him, but close your eyes and nestle your head further into his chest in exhaustion.

“BID and PRN for the foreseeable future.” You reply.

Suddenly you hear the door start to open and a voice yell.

“Y/N, Zoro you okay down there? We heard a loud crash and were worried! Zoro wasn’t letting you dress his wounds again, was he?” Chopper yells from the top of the steps.

In all your fun you hadn’t noticed the rolling tables of your medical supplies had toppled over. Fortunately, Chopper hadn’t walked down the steps far enough to see the state you and Zoro were in. Zoro, naked flat on his back on the patient bed. You straddling his leg, laying naked on top of him. Both of your legs, soaked with juices from your activities. Your clothes all over the floor and medical supplies on the ground beside you. You quickly sat up, placing your hands on Zoro’s chest. You swallow hard. Zoro places his hands on your hips trying not to laugh. He takes in the view of your bare breasts once again.

“Everything’s fine. Y/N just needs to work on her bedside manner.” Zoro yells with a laugh.

You look down at the swordsman with wide eyes. He reaches back and squeezes your ass. You try not to moan as your sensitive spot rubs against his leg.

“Thanks Doctor Chopper. Patient is almost done down here. Ready the next one!”

Chopper turns around and shuts the door.

You quickly hop off Zoro and off the patient bed. You pull your dress down and zip up the top. Zoro sits up and moves to the side of the bed. He grabs your waist, reaching past you to the counter for a towel. He begins cleaning between your legs. You take a deep breath as he does. He then lets go and begins cleaning himself. You pull your hair out of your dress and brush through it with your fingers. You turn around to look at him as he pulls back on his briefs. You put your arms on Zoro’s chest.

“My bedside manner?”

“ Yeah. it got better but still needs some work.” He says, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss.

“I still have to stitch those up, you know?” You say pointing at his wounds.

“Not this again.” Zoro groans.

Luffy

Luffy skipped his way down the stairs, barely noticing you as he jumped on the patient bed. You are working at the counter back turned to him as you prepare supplies for patching his wounds.

“Hey Y/N. How’s it going down here? Chopper says it’s my turn. Got any snacks while I wait?”

“Hey Luffy, sorry no food here. Let me just finish prepping my wound cleaning supplies.” You reply over your shoulder.

“But Y/N. I’m hungry and that’s going to help me to heal more than cleaning my wounds anyway!”

You turn around setting the bowl on the rolling table next to Luffy. Then reach for a stool and roll it in front of him. He looks at you with a disappointed expression as you smile at him. He then looks you up and down.

“Y/N what are you wearing? Cool costume! Do I get one?”

“Sorry Luffy, you actually have to take your shirt off. I need to look at your wounds, especially that shoulder.”

“Then do I get a snack?”

“Sorry Luffy, we will have to wait on Sanji for that. You’ll also have to let me get this done first.”

“Fine.” He sighs and takes off his shirt. “You better get Sanji to make me something really good though.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Alright Luffy first just have to clean these, so we can get a good look.” You say as you place the warm damp cloth against his shoulder. Your other arm resting on his crossed ones.

“OW OW OW!” he yells, moving your hands away to reach for his shoulder.

“Sorry, Luffy!” You say gently resting your hands on your lap in front of you. You look at him and shake your head.

“That hurt more than when I got it!”

“Luffy, we have to get these clean or they could get infected!” You say as your reach for his hand that is clenching his wound, you bring it to his lap. “I’m not trying to hurt you! You add as you give his hand a squeeze.

You resoak your cloth in the basin beside you. You then place a hand on his arm near his wound.

“Are you ready? Can I go again?” You ask as you get ready to clean the wound with your cloth.

“Yes.” he says, gripping his knees with both hands.

You gently dab the front edge of his shoulder wound with the warmed cloth.

“Damn it Y/N! That stings.” He says squirming.

“Luffy you and Zoro are the only people I know who can take it in a fight, but when it comes to getting your wounds dressed and cleaned you act like babies. This is your last chance! Stay still!”

“Fine.”

You soak the cloth a third time and before you can even get the cloth to Luffy’s arm he moves.

“Luffy! That’s it!”

You hop on the table and straddle your captain.

“If you can’t stay still I will have to make you.”

“What are you doing Y/N?”

You drop the cloth in the water and grab his arms by the wrists slowly bringing them around your waist.

“Wrap your arms around me and squeeze when it stings, okay? I can take it.” You smile at him.

You start to clean his shoulder wound and the squeezing trick seems to help. There however were a few things you didn’t account for. The first being Luffy screaming in your ear. The second being how much you liked having your captain’s arms wrapped around you. He was warm and tender with his touch, yes he was using them to cover pain, but there was something soft about them.

You finished cleaning his shoulder wound. Regretting starting with his worst wound as you liked being held by him.

“Alright, Luffy. These next ones shouldn’t be as bad. I’m going to move on to your chest and your finger pistol wounds.”

Luffy lightly keeps his arms wrapped around you looking down at his chest watching you work. You soak your cloth and begin cleaning, rinsing and soaking your cloth repeatedly as you go, not noticing the rocking motion you were doing on Luffy’s lap as you went.

You finished wiping up the last bit of dried blood and turn to drop your cloth in the bowl next to you.

“All done with that part!”

“Oh do you want me to let go of you now?” Luffy questions with a slight hint of sadness in his voice.

“You can if you wan’t, but you don't have to. I still have to do your stitches, so I figure I’ll stay here to help you stay still. That typically is a bit worse than the cleaning, so squeeze if you need.” You say with a nod. You begin looking over his shoulders for your needle and thread. You move your arms to rest on top of his. Moving him as you look. You also begin to stroke up and down his arms as you look around him for your supplies.

“Okay.” Luffy says with a giggle as he watches you look around.

“Now where did I put that needle and thread?” You ask yourself as you move your arms to his chest.

“Uh. Y/N. I think you left them on the table behind me.”

“Thank you! You push him down by the chest, so he is laying flat on the bed. You lean over him to reach for your supplies. It takes a moment as the thread spool is just out of reach. You don’t notice your half exposed breasts dancing in Luffy’s face as you do this. Finally you grab the spool and sit back on his lap.

Only this time something is different. You are slightly raised.

Luffy sits on his elbows and looks at you.

“Huh. What’s going on?” He questions.

It dawns on you that you were just rocking on his lap and had accidentally stuck your breasts in his face. You blush and grab Luffy’s arms to gently slide off his lap. You embarrassingly turn away from Luffy and wrap your arms around your chest.

“Y/N wait.” He reaches an arm around your waist.

“I’m sorry Luffy, it was my fault. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” You reply as you squeeze yourself harder, stepping out of his reach.

“Uncomfortable? Y/N? I liked you on top of me. That’s why… I think it happened.” He says putting his arm behind his head and smirking looking at you.

You look over your shoulder at him.

“But Luffy, I…”

“I heard Sanji and Usop talk about it once. I was just slow because I've never been in that situation.” Luffy adds as he rubs the back of his head with a grin.

“Oh. Well I.” You turn to face him, still hugging yourself. You were wishing your arms were his, but you knew your captain really didn’t seem interested in girls or anything other than meat and being king of the pirates. You didn’t have a lot of experience in this area anyway, and assumed he didn’t either. You always thought of your captain differently from the rest of the crew. You liked being with him more than the others. You liked the feel of his touch. You thought if he did ever show an interest in a girl, you hoped it would be you.

“Did you not like it?”

“No. Luffy. I…”

He stretched his arms and wrapped them around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You place your arms on his. He’s looking at you smiling, but you can’t look him in the eye.

“Y/N. Can I kiss you?”

You look up at him shocked. You just nod.

He pulls you closer into his chest. He puts a hand under your chin pulling your lips right in front of yours. You close your eyes waiting for him to kiss you, but he stops himself.

“Wait, are you saying yes because I’m your captain or because you want to? I only want to if you want to?” He asks with a confused expression on his face letting one arm go behind his head and the other rest on your lower back.

You look at him and wrap your arms around his neck letting your lips tell him your answer. He pulls you in close.

“Y/N. I think that’s just what my wounds needed to heal!”

You chuckle resting your forehead against his.

“Let's go eat, then maybe do more of this later?”

“Fine, but I have to stitch you up first!”

“Ah Y/N! Can’t we be done?!”

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 12

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: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13k 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, it's a whole chapter of domestic fucking bliss as displayed by two people very horny for each other. 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: Next week will be the epilogue for Javi and his writer, and then we will be on to the next soulmate story! Thank you so much to everyone who came along on this journey with us. It really has been so fantastic. 🧡 As always, I apologize for any errors I might have missed in proofreading.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11

There is no sinking, sick feeling like you expected. Only the knowledge that rolling over to dig out and light up a cigarette before talking will be something you share, skin to skin and heart to heart, with your soulmate.

"Alright." When you turn back into his side again you take a drag of the cigarette before handing it over to him. "Where do you want to start?"

Javi takes the cigarette and inhales slowly, eyes slipping closed as the nicotine rush hits him on the first puff. They can claim all they want to about cocaine, it’s not got shit on a cigarette. He holds it for a second before blowing it out. “I meant what I said.” He wants that written in stone, right now. “It’s not a heat of the moment thing, I love you.” He repeats softly, eyes opening and focusing on you.

"I've been in love with you since before I left to come home." You tell him softly, accepting the cigarette when he passes it back and embracing the intimacy of sharing it. "It hit me when I was living with you, actually..."

“When you were kidnapped.” Javi admits, watching as you take a slow drag off the cigarette and savor it just like he did. “I fucking nearly rubbed my - your tattoo raw, checking to make sure it was there.” His hand reaches for your thigh since you are still propped up and he squeezes it. “I didn’t think I needed to pile that onto you when you were so broken.”

"I needed to come home." That is an absolutely certainty. You needed to get away. To heal. And that never would have been possible if you had stayed in Colombia. "But I don't have the nightmares nearly as much anymore and I'm going a lot better. It's—it too a long time. But yes." Passing the cigarette back again, you have the good manners to look a little sheepish. "That's why I was so shitty while Elisa was around. I was jealous."

“Connie chewed my ass when she found out you were my soulmate.” Javi promises you. “I didn’t think that you cared at first. You were so adamant that our being soulmates was not an issue.” It had stung at the time, wounded his pride and hit at his ego. He had always expected his soulmate to swoon at his feet, or shit would be even easier than it was with most women. It was why he had bristled at the fact and inadvertently caused so much pain for both of you. He shrugs apologetically. “I’m an asshole.”

"I just don't think we were in the right place. Either of us." It's something that you've given a lot of thought over the years and you hope that that is abundantly obvious. "We were far too focused on our careers and couldn't see the forest for the trees. We didn't believe in balance." Sighing slightly, your eyes tick up again to find his and you bite your lip out of nerves. "I believe in balance now."

He chuckles quietly. “I don’t know if I have a job.” He reminds you. “But I know that I want you.” It’s something that has been obvious since the moment he saw you talking to Lorraine. You had appeared back in his life and he wasn’t going to waste a second chance. “What do you want?”

"You." This time you aren't hesitating. You aren't waiting and you aren't waffling. There is no path forward that doesn't include Javi now that he's back in your life. "Everything else is negotiable."

The cigarette is passed back to him and he flicks the ashes into the tray in the other side of the bed, twisting away from you for just a moment before he is facing you again. “We are settled on that.” He agrees, smiling softly in relief. “Now we just have to figure out six million little details.”

"Only six million?" You smirk at him and settle back against his chest again. "Piece of cake. Wanna start with the basics?"

“Which are?” He asks with a snort. “I’ve always thought two kids, but if you want more, I guess we can decide on a number.”

"Two is good." That smirk curls your whole mouth, turning your expression into a grin. "I was thinking more like...where are we going to live?"

“Well…shit.” He chuckles and the hand that isn’t stroking the little pooch of your stomach curls behind his head to prop it up. “That’s a good one. You want me to move to Rhode Island?” He asks. “I’m not too fond of the snow, but I’ll do it.”

"I at least want you to come up and meet my family." You bargain, turning your head so you don't blow smoke from your last drag back in his face. "If you get up there and decide winter is more horrifying than you expected, we can pivot and I'll come down here."

“Summer is shit here.” He points out, wanting to be honest. “It’s a million fucking degrees. So hot you don’t even want to fuck.”

"So it's either winter so cold you freeze when you try to fuck naked, or summer so hot you don't want to fuck at all." You snort in amusement. "Maybe we should move to the middle of California or something."

He curls his nose at that suggestion. “No California.” He huffs. “They are too fucking….Californian.” He doesn’t have a good reason to not like it, but he doesn’t. “Murphy said Miami wasn’t bad.”

"Hot and humid." Which sounds even better than hot on its own. "I don't know if there's a perfect solution, baby. We may just have to pick the one that has something we really love about it and deal with the bad parts that go with it."

“Texas is home for me and Rhode Island is home for you.” He muses. “So we just say fuck it and move to someplace we want.” He looks at you seriously. “Are you done writing? Permanently?”

"I'm done with journalism." That doesn't necessarily mean you'll never write again, but it means you won't be trotted out to rehash the most traumatic week of your life every single time anyone wants to talk to you. "Working in a kitchen has been good for keeping me busy, but I don't know if I want to do it forever."

“Why don’t you transition to a different avenue?” He asks seriously. “Your articles are better researched, plotted and presented than most books I’ve read.”

"I used to really like writing short stories." Tilting your head slightly lets you rest against him completely as you sink down under the blanket with him again and you shrug a little in his arms. "I could give it a shot. I can write in between restaurant shifts. It'll be easy enough to get a line cook job whereever we choose."

“If I don’t have a job with the DEA…” he sighs. “I’ve been offered a deputy position but I’m sure I could get on anywhere.” It doesn’t help make a decision, but he rocks you closer to his body. “But I should be able to support you if you wanted to do it full time.”

"Let's see if I can write anything good enough to actually sell." He's soft and warm and so comforting like this that you could just melt. "If you have a job offer here, let's stay here. There's plenty of restaurants in the area that I can work in for now, and your Pops is here."

“You would want to move here?” Javi’s surprised but he hums as he thinks about it. “There’s a little ranch down the road that’s about to go on the market.” He considers. “Owner died and it’s going through probate.”

“Didn’t we say once that Texans and New Englanders aren’t so different?” All of those early conversations with him are burned into your memory. Years later and you haven’t forgotten a single one of them. “I’m sure I’ll adjust in no time. Ranch, little house, whatever you think will work. You know this place far better than I do.”

“I think before we decide anything, I should probably visit your home, right?” He smirks slightly. “It would only be fair.” He wants to see where you grew up, meet your mother. Things that he had never really contemplated ever having to do, but now he is glad that you aren’t someone he’s known his entire life.

“It’s chilly but not snowy yet.” You promise him, smiling reflexively at the idea of bringing Javier home with you for a little bit. “Fall is the best time to see New England.”

He thinks about that for a moment and then nods. “When would be a good time for me to come?” He doesn’t ask if you want him to just come back with you, that might be too much.

“Well…” A soft laugh escapes you and your cheeks burn. “I’m going back on Monday morning. You could always come with me?”

“You would be okay with that?” His brow lifts in surprise. He had expected you to want to talk to your family first.

“I’ll call my mom tomorrow and let her know, but I don’t think she’ll mind.” You reach up to kiss him, reveling in the warmth of it. “She knows about you. My brothers…I didn’t want to talk about it much. But my mother knows.”

He winces slightly, knowing that by all rights, your mother should have a dismay opinion on him. “How bad should I expect it?” He tone is joking, but only slightly.

“She’ll be skeptical for about an hour after I hang up the phone with her, but if I’m happy then she’s happy.”

“If you want me to come with you on Monday, I’ll call the airline.” He promises, knowing that he owes you a lot more than just a potentially awkward first meeting with your mother. “What time is your flight?”

“Eleven in the morning.” Your eyes tick up to his, concern lining the edges of joy. “That’s not too soon? Too dramatic? We were literally just talking about where to live together and how many kids we want.”

“I’ll be on that flight.” He promises, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “Just gotta make sure D.C. knows how to get ahold of me.”

“I’ll write down my phone number for you.” A promise, as silly as it is, that makes the thing seem all the more real. “I’ve been living with my mom again. It’s easier.”

“Would you rather I get a hotel room?” He asks. “I don’t want to impose.”

“No.” Shaking your head, you feel a little silly for it but you’re certain when you look back up at him. “I want to have you with me. We’ve wasted enough time apart.”

“You are staying here tonight.” He agrees. “Hopefully your brother won’t be worried about you. You left without saying anything.”

“I should probably call the hotel and leave a message,” you admit. “Michael is protective.”

Javi nods. “Do you want to go get your stuff?” He asks. “Or would you rather me stay at your hotel?”

“We can go get my stuff in the morning.” Right now all you care about is snuggling into his side. “I’ll call tonight but I just want to stay here with you.”

“You looked beautiful.” He murmurs softly. “Today. Everyday really, but you looked really beautiful today.”

“Not every day.” The tendency to deflect compliments is long ingrained, but from him they make your cheeks burn.

“Every day.” He repeats, not letting you even doubt that for a second. “You don’t see it? You have this…softness. Even when you have to be strong. A grace and kindness that is bone deep.”

“Softness has always been my issue,” you gripe, though you wave it away. “I’m just glad the diet is working. But…it’s very sweet of you.” Fucking hell you’re bad at taking compliments. “I always admired your resolve, honestly. And attention to detail. Even when it frustrated me it was still impressive.” That grin returns to your lips full force. “The broad shoulders and cut jaw line don’t hurt either.”

There’s a few inches of skin on your side that Javi pinches gently in his hand as he frowns at you playfully. “I love this softness.” He growls, leaning in and biting the bottom of your lip.

“I’m glad.” You laugh softly, never doubting that he means it. Not after everything. “Because two kids will mean plenty of softness.”

“That’s if you want to do that.” Javi says seriously. “If you don’t, I’ll understand.”

“Three always felt like my mom was chasing us.” You hate it but you have to sit up again. Calling Michael’s hotel before you sleep is nonnegotiable. “But being an only child sounds lovely. Two is good.”

“Compromise, is that what it sounds like?” Javi snorts. “You are the one that says how many kids you have.”

“Can I ask you something else?” It seems like the time, considering how honest and open you’re being with each other. And considering what you’ve already talked about tonight.

“You can ask me anything.” He promises, looking up at you. The cigarette is long since smoked, crushed out in the ashtray, but the intimacy and lingering closeness still hovers in the air.

“I just wondered.” It feels silly, but considering where you were today maybe it isn’t. “If you ever wanted to get married? Or if Lorraine spoiled that for you.”

He sighs softly, looking up at the ceiling while he thinks about what he wants to say. “I figured one day it would happen.” He admits. “I knew I should have been happy to marry her, back when I thought she was the one. But something never felt right and I twisted that into believing it wasn’t for me, but I thought I would eventually find someone.” He looks back at you and licks his lips. “But I’d marry you.” He nods.

“I’m not talking about a wedding.” Clarification seems important in this moment, even when the gentle affection in his expression is so real. “A marriage is a life together. A wedding? They’re nice but I don’t think they’re necessary.”

“You wouldn’t want something like today?” He asks curiously. “Family and friends?”

“Not if you wouldn’t enjoy it.” That is what matters to you most. A wedding is a great party but only if the couple both enjoy it when it happens. Otherwise it’s just parading around for a day in clothes you’ll only wear once. “I guess what I mean is that I never envisioned a big white wedding for myself so I wouldn’t be disappointed not to have it. What I care about is having a partner to spend my life with.”

“I don’t mind a wedding.” He has thought about that quite a bit, especially after one particularly vivid dream of you in a white dress. It had haunted him for weeks after having it and it was the closest he came to calling you after you left.

“That’s the road to getting my mother to love you.” It’s both the truth and a bit of teasing, and you don’t mind that. Not really. Not when you know that these conversations — this compromise — is a big and new step for the two of you. The two of you. As a couple. “You brought up kids first and you’re the one who wants a wedding. You’ll be her favorite son instantly.”

He snorts. “I’ll make sure that I bring that up.” He jokes, even though he will follow your lead on interacting with your mom. “Pop will love you. And he thinks it’s funny as hell that you are just as stubborn as me.”

“The universe decided it would be cruel to give us anything less than a taste of our own medicine.” A taste that you deal with a gentle, loving kiss. “I should call the hotel. Before I forget or get distracted by my soulmate some more.”

“You do that.” He smacks your ass when you start to get up and smirks when you whirl around and glare at him. “Got a phone on the dresser.” He points out. “Don’t even have to get dressed.”

“Helpful.” You send that smirk right back at him and shake your head, then cross his room to make the call. To your surprise, your brother actually picks up when the front desk transfers you to the room.

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’ll pick you up.” Your brother rushes out, obviously worried when he came back to the room to find you not there. “Why the hell did you leave without saying anything?”

“I’m so sorry.” Turning back to look at Javi, you cringe apologetically. “But I’m fine. I left with Javier.” The man himself is lying in bed watching you with hooded eyes and you bite your lip. “I’m gonna stay here tonight and come get my stuff from the hotel in the morning, okay?”

“Javier? The guy you were kissing on the dance floor?” His voice ticks up in surprise but he’s relieved that you are okay. You are a grown ass woman, but your time in Colombia and him coming so close to losing you had made him a little protective. “Some chick named Lorraine was going around telling people that he and you are soulmates.”

“We are, Mickey.” The childhood nickname has been on the shelf for a lot of years, but your voice softens with affection — both for him and for Javi. “I had no idea, but your buddy Danny is his cousin.”

If you could see his face, you would laugh at him and call him a fish, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. “You— he’s your soulmate?” He asks, sure that he had misheard or you are yanking his chain. “Are you sure?”

"I'm sure." He must be in shock if he isn't teasing or needling you for details, but you can understand that. "Remember before the wedding, I told you he was from here? I wasn't specific. We're literally in his hometown."

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t put it together. I couldn’t imagine when you said Javier you meant Javier.” He frowns, trying to remember what the guy looks like, “He kind of looks like Burt Reynolds, right?”

You snort at the comparison but nod, not bothering to hide your giggles when you look right at Javier and agree. "Yeah, I guess he does kind of look like Burt Reynolds."

He rolls his eyes at you and flips you off, although there is a tiny edge of a smirk on his face. Burt Reynolds had done this pose on a bear skinned rug a few years ago, so Javi flips onto his side and cups his cock while he poses like Burt had while laying across the bed.

When you burst out laughing your brother grunts in confusion, and you have to dismiss it away quickly. "Nothing, nothing," you assure him through laughs. "Javi just flipped me off for the comparison." After a few seconds you calm down again, and shift the phone on your shoulder. "Listen, I'm...I'm gonna call Mom tomorrow. Javi's going to come home with us on Monday to meet her and see the old neighborhood."

“Wow.” He sounds impressed but he agrees. “Sure. I won’t say a word. I just came back to the hotel to change and check on you anyway. Be safe.” He tells you and then murmurs your name. “I love you.” He promises. “And I’m happy you are spending time with your soulmate.”

"I love you too, Mickey. Go have fun with your friends and we'll see you around noon tomorrow so you can sleep off whatever bullshit you get into with your buddies tonight." A round of good nights punctuate the phone call before you hang up and slide back across the room, ready to climb back in bed with Javier. "Lorraine was talking about us after we left," you tell him, smirking. "Everybody in Texas already knows we're soulmates, apparently."

He hadn’t expected anything less, but he shifts to sit up. “Does that upset you?” He asks. “Lorraine was probably trying to spin it, or claim some hand in us finding each other.”

"Baby, she can shout it from the rooftops and I'll just repeat it with pride." You climb onto the mattress and snuggle into his side happily. "I love you."

He softens, folding you against his side. His arm wraps around your back and hums happily. “I love you too, sweetheart.” He repeats back to you, feeling a long yearned for sense of peace as you lay with him.

******

"I know my mom is going to want to feed us as soon as we get back to the house but I swear I'm still full from breakfast." Groaning slightly as you get off the plane, you lean into Javi's side and sigh. Chucho had made you and the boys a big 'going away breakfast' before you left for the airport this morning and even though it was early, everything is bigger in Texas.

“I swear that I’ve never seen that man cook as much as he had for you.” Javi snorts as he shoulders the bag that you had wanted to bring on the plane. His own bag was checked along with your other bag. Guiding you towards the baggage claim.

"Dad used to do the same thing." Michael tells him, trailing just a pace or two behind. He pokes your shoulder and grins. "This one brings out the caretaking instinct in fathers."

“Pop was thrilled to meet her. And it’s been a long time since there was a woman in the house.” He smiles as he takes your hand. “He wanted to make a better impression than me.”

"I promised to take Polaroids while we're up here. He wants to see New England, too." Javier's father had taken to you immediately and without question, and you had relished the opportunity to warm up to your soulmate's father. "I think I'm going to put together a Rhode Island care package to bring to him when we go back to Texas."

“He would love that.” He had enjoyed watching his father fuss over you and how you had responded to the fatherly presence. It had been a long time since Chucho had someone to fuss over and you both seemed to enjoy it. “The man loves gifts, no matter how much he protests.”

“I am not above bribing my future father-in-law for his affection,” you half-joke, though just the sentence makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

“You don’t have to bribe him.” Javi promises. “He might have already put you in his will and written me out.” He had laughed when he had seen how thrilled Chucho was with you, although it had choked him up when the older man had pointed out how like his mother you are.

"Makes sense." The grin on your face is unapologetic, and you keep close to Javi's side as Michael goes hunting up and down the conveyor belt to find his own suitcase. "My mother will love you that much, too. We're just trading parental affection."

He chuckles. “He does know the luggage will come to us, right?” He asks, watching your brother in amusement.

“Impatience is a family trait,” you tell him, entirely unphased by Michael’s unnecessary pursuit. You’re used to it by now.

“I’m not even that bad.” Javi snorts and rolls his eyes. The past couple of days have included both interrogation by your brother and teasing. He hadn’t had the heart to tell the Marine that he’s done more intense interrogations than he would ever dream of.

Leaning into his side again, you put one arm around Javi’s waist and kiss his cheek. “The most patient thing anyone in our family has ever done was the years I waited to see you again.”

“Then I don’t know if I’m impressed or insulted now.” He teases, smirking when you pout at him and lean in to press his lips to yours.

“Be impressed.” You murmur, grinning against his lips when your brother clears his throat.

Javi glances over your shoulder, still kissing you and he smirks when he sees the way he’s shifting uncomfortably. Like it’s strange that you are kissing someone.

"Okay, I'm gonna go find Mom." He says finally, when he has shifted his feet enough times to catch Javier looking at him and knows he's being intentionally needled at.

Reluctantly pulling away from your soulmate, you snag your suitcase that has somehow appeared at your feet — Michael's searching probably — and thread your fingers through Javier's. "We'll all go, don't get your tighty-whities in a twist."

Javi spies his own bag and grabs it, throwing it over his shoulder. “We’re all set.” He promises, shrugging slightly at your brother.

"She said she'd be at arrivals with the car. We should be able to find her easily." You might walk a little faster out of enthusiasm, but that's alright. Your mother was already talking about what she was going to cook to welcome Javier to the family before you hung up the phone with her yesterday.

It’s amusing that you are almost outpacing him, picking up speed and he has to shuffle a little faster to keep up with you. “Excited?”

"Maybe." And you aren't apologetic for it in the least, inhaling the cool autumn air the second you walk out the door between the two men. It only takes a second of scanning the curb full of parked cars to spot your mother and you tug Javier in her direction immediately. "Mom!" She's parked almost all the way down, so you wave and hustle along with Javier and Michael laughing behind you.

Your mother looks like you, or – you look like her. Both of you falling into the hug like it’s been years rather than days since you’ve last laid eyes on each other. “Are they always like this?” He asks Michael.

"Yeah." Your brother nods, shifting his bag to his other hand. "Since she got back, anyway."

Javi sighs softly, knowing that some of that is his fault and he tries to not let the pang of guilt bring down the mood in this first meeting.

There is whispering between you and your mother, but it only takes a few moments before you step back and your mother is walking out toward the two men like a woman on a mission. Without a single second of hesitation, she wraps Javier up in a welcoming hug and holds on tight. "I'm glad to finally meet you." She says close to his ear, because there is no other place for her to speak.

He is surprised by the warm greeting, but his own arms lock around her and he hugs her back. “It’s my pleasure.” He promises. “You have one hell of a daughter.”

"Don't I know it." There is a smile on her face when she draws back, but her hands stay on Javier's shoulders and seriousness in her eyes. "Thank you for making sure she came home to me safely. From the bottom of my heart."

“I was going to at least give her that.” He hums. “Even if we weren’t together then, she was important to me. Her safety was important, and her happiness.”

"Okay, guys..." Wiping away a bit of silent water from under your eyes, you basically flail your hands at your mother and soulmate to urge them to save this heartfelt moment for someplace more private. "Maybe we should go back to the house? Before I get all choked up over here."

Your mom agrees and pulls back and reaches for the handle of your bag, but Javier shakes his head. “I’ve got it.” He insists.

"She said you were a gentleman." Your mother beams. "Come on, guys. Everybody pile in, I've got a lasagna in the oven and your Uncle Carmie dropped off wine last night."

He follows your lead and trails after you as you walk beside your mom, already chatting intensely and it’s interesting to see how open you are with her.

You pile into the backseat with Javier and let your brother sit up front, returning to that new habit you’ve found of leaning into his side whenever you are next to your soulmate. “The drive isn’t long,” you promise him, bucking your seatbelt just before your mother pulls into traffic. “Nothing is too far apart here.”

“That doesn’t bother me.” He has lived in cities and on the ranch where the earnest neighbor was three miles away. Both of them have their pros and cons and he is adaptable. If you wanted to live here, he would grumble when he shoveled snow but he would do it. Couldn’t be much different from shoveling manure.

“The old joke is that if you have to drive more than a half an hour in Rhode Island, that’s a day trip and you have to pack a lunch,” your mother jokes from the front seat. “I imagine Texas is a different animal altogether.”

He snorts. “You can drive all day and still not be out of the state.” He tells you. “If you only drive half an hour, it’s just a quick trip to town.”

“Exactly.” Your mother laughs, putting her attention back on the road. “We’re the smallest state with the biggest attitude.”

“I’m learning that.” Javi hums, winking at you and then looking back out the window.

******

It really doesn't take long to get home again, and you give Javi the complete-if-brief tour of your house ending in your bedroom. It's a huge relief now that you've redecorated since high school. Javi did not need to see all your old heartthrob posters up on the walls.

“She seemed to like me.” He sets your bag down and puts his own beside it, looking around your room. Honestly a little surprised that he has been put with you, he had expected to sleep in a guest room and have to sneak into your bed.

"That's because I was honest with her about the fact that I wouldn't have survived the kidnapping if you hadn't worked your ass off to find me." You take a second to dig out a sweater for an extra layer before tucking yourself into his side, but the warmth from him is better than the sweater you found anyway. "I figured we could tell her the rest together. But she knows you saved my life, Javi. Nothing could make her not like you after that."

"You would have survived." Javi is sure of that now. He might have been a hair's breath away from unravelling then, but now he is completely sure of the fact that you would have found some way to escape. "I know you would have. You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"Who knows what would have happened." Exploring the possibilities was important in therapy, but the fact is that he did save you, and you will forever be grateful to him for that. "What matters is that we're both here now."

“We are here.” He smirks. “In your childhood bedroom.” He will definitely be making a few fantasies that he’s entertained since planning this trip come to life.

“That doing something for you, hermoso?” The twist of his lips and raise of his eyebrow isn’t just teasing anymore. You know that look now. It’s a promise.

“Have you ever fucked in here?” He asks, voice dipping down lower, something he’s discovered makes you wet. His arms slide around your back and his groin presses firmly into you. “Or have you just fingered that pretty cunt in this bed?”

“Fuck, Javi—” You have to swallow the rest of your groan so you don’t get carried away, but your arms are up around his neck instantly and you all but purr in his arms. Squirming has the added benefit of rubbing your torso against him and you grin when his smirk flickers in arousal. “No, I haven’t fucked in here yet. You offering?”

“’Course I am.” He snorts, making his cock twitch on purpose. “We can unpack later.”

“Defiling my childhood innocence first thing?” The leering look in his eyes is tinged with sweet affection, though, which makes you grin. “I like it.”

He chuckles, tilting his head to press his lips to yours, enjoying that soft welcome that comes every time. You lean into him, want him just as badly as he wants you and it’s quickly becoming his new obsession.

It’s not more than ten minutes from start to finish, but you’re panting and giggly, wrapped around him when he pulls you back into his arms after wrecking both of you with seemingly little effort. “That’s how long it takes to unpack, right?” You snicker, stealing more kisses before you bother to get redressed.

“Didn’t see you complaining.” He huffs, but he’s grinning back at you. “Sometimes quickies are the best kind of fucking.”

“I would not complain.” One more kiss and you have to pull up your pants, otherwise you’ll just drag him into that bed again. “If I ever complain, take me to a doctor because I’ve been body-swapped.”

“That would be a damned shame too.” He reaches out and slaps your ass playfully. “Happen to like this body, and the attitude that’s in it. When she’s not yelling at me.” He teases, winking at you with a smirk.

"I haven't yelled at you once in the last few days." You smirk, returning the ass smack with a sharp crack of your hand and that has both of you raising impressed eyebrows. "Screaming your name is different."

“You can scream my name as loud as you need to, sweetheart.” Javi chuckles and waggles his eyebrows playfully. The past few days have been filled with lighthearted banter and teasing, making him feel younger than he has in years.

“Later.” It’s a promise. Set in stone. And you toss him a wink before getting redressed. “We should go back down, cariño. I think I finally burned off enough of what your dad fed us for breakfast to be hungry for lunch.”

“Then let’s go get something to eat.” He agrees, holding out his hand for you to take. He likes touching you, loves it actually. It’s reassuring and calming for him to touch you. It’s like the part of him that he didn’t know was aching while you were gone is now soothed and repaired when his fingers caress your skin.

“Can I ask you a serious question?” In the doorway of your old room, holding hands with your soulmate, you bite your lip out of nerves.

“You can ask me anything.” The lightheartedness has morphed into something sober, but he doesn’t waver, holding your gaze.

“If you don’t want to have the conversations with my family about marriage or kids or the big future things, it’s totally fine. Everything has happened really fast. So if you only want to tell them about moving to be together, that’s okay with me.” It’s not exactly a question, the way you phrased it, but the thought tumbles out without editing and you hold tight to his hand for certainty. You’re not trying to wiggle out of anything, but rather saying that you’ll take things at his pace.

“Baby,” Javi turns towards you and he caresses your face with his free hand, still holding tight to your other one. “I’ll answer any question that they want to ask.” He promises. “Most of them are yours to answer anyway.” He reminds you. “You decide when you want to get married, or be pregnant.”

"I just don't want you to feel rushed. Or pressured." You clarify, leaning into his chest to hug him tight.

“I’ve had my entire life to wait for this moment.” He assures you. “I’m not feeling rushed, sweetheart. I think we need to be right here.”

"I love you." More than you thought you could. More than you ever expected to. So much that it feels like it's filling up your chest and you hope it never stops.

******

"There you two are." Your mother has the entire table filled with food when you come downstairs, exactly as you predicted, and you give Javi's hand a squeeze as if told say 'I told you so'.

"Sorry, I was showing Javi some old photos after we unpacked," you lie, neatly brushing away the extra time you were upstairs. And making a mental note to show him some high school photos later.

"Hmmmm." The sound that she makes is one of amused disbelief but she doesn't call you out directly. Instead, she motions towards the seats. "Come on, let's eat." She insists.

"So this is what it takes to get you to make lasagna, huh?" Instead of lingering on the question or her obvious disbelief, you trend straight toward teasing — as is your entire family's custom. "One of your kids has to bring home their soulmate to make it happen?"

“Figured it was as good a time as any.” She swats at you playfully and looks towards Javier. “Do you drink wine?”

"Uncle Carmie's homemade basement hooch is an acquired taste, Ma," you laugh, but reach to grab the bottle from the counter anyway before you sit down. "Try some of mine, babe. If you like it, then pour a glass for yourself."

“We made bathtub hooch in high school.” Javi snorts, looking at the bottle and pouring himself some instead of trying yours like you suggested. If he doesn’t like it, he’ll just have the one glass.

"Brave man." Michael snorts, already digging into lunch and bypassing the salad bowl to serve himself a large slice of lasagna. "That shit will put hair on your chest."

"Language, Michael." Your mother warns. "We have a guest.”

Javi chuckles. “I’ve said worse things.” He promises her. “Nothing he says will surprise me.”

"I didn't raise my babies to be crass." She insists, luckily paying more attention to passing the plate of garlic bread than she is to your face and missing the doubtful expression to shoot Javi and your brother. "So, Javier, what an unexpected weekend!"

“It has been surprising,” he admits, looking over at you with a small smile. “But I don’t think that it’s been unwelcome for either one of us.”

"Not at all." You can agree to that wholeheartedly. "It feels very...meant to be."

“I honestly don’t know if I would have had the nerve to call her if she hadn’t shown up at the wedding.” He tells your mother honestly.

"I think it's very sweet that you found each other again by accident." Once everyone is served, only then does your mother tuck in. The four of you have plenty of space at the big, round dinner table but it doesn't feel like you're far apart or that the table is crowded. It just feels comfortable. "The powers that be knew it was time to nudge you back together."

Javi looks down at the meal as been dished up, it looks delicious. “Thank you.” He tells her. “It looks amazing. Your daughter is also one hell of a chef so I know this will be great.”

“She takes after her father.” Your mother beams at that. “I do my best, but she’s got his talent.”

The praise is kind, but you shrug slightly and fork up a perfect bite before throwing Javi a grin. “Chucho promised to teach me Southern cooking, so I’m combining Dad powers.”

“Dad has all of my mom’s recipes.” Javi explains. “Although most of them haven’t been used since she got sick.”

“It can be hard to reopen those old memories. Food carries such nostalgia.” Your mother smiles gently, having known already from your stories about your soulmate that he had lost his mother years ago. “I’m sure she would be proud, just like my husband would be, to see her recipes handed down to the next generation.”

“She would have loved your daughter.” Javi snorts, looking over at you with a fond smile. “And encouraged you to give me hell at every opportunity.”

"That she gets from me," your mother laughs, grinning as you and your brother just shake your heads and continue to eat.

"We figured out early on that Texas stubborn and New England stubborn are pretty similar," you tell her when you finish your bite. "Which is why we butted heads early on. I'm glad we got that phase out of the way early on."

“I’m sure that there will be plenty of head butting left.” Javi has no illusions that life together would be a walk in the park. Neither one of you are built that way.

"Of course." That is the more realistic way of approaching it, you're just feeling really good about the situation right now and it's making you feel rosy. "But at least we'll talk to each other when that happens now. Instead of stonewalling or just getting mad."

“That’s right.” He nods and winks at you before looking back at your mother. “I know you have a lot of questions for me.”

“I might.” She laughs though, appreciating the acknowledgment, and then laughs again when you wave your hand to tell her to go ahead. “Well,” she sips her wine and considers the man at her table. He’s older than you but not by too terribly much. Certainly handsome, but looks as though he has been through a lot. Like the edges of his smile are etched with concern that it might all be too fleeting. Poor dear. He needs a partner. “Have the two of you talked about how you’re going to manage this yet?” She asks, motioning between the two of you.

“To be completely honest….” Javi glances back at you and then looks towards your mother again as he taps the table. “I’m not sure where I stand professionally.” He admits, knowing that it wouldn’t help him get in your mother’s good graces, but it’s the truth. “I am waiting to hear from Washington.”

“Basically, Mom?” You set your fork down for a moment and offer Javi a reassuring smile. “We’re talking about living together being the next step, but we won’t know where until Javi hears from work.”

“I see.” She wonders what he might have done, but she doesn’t ask. “And hopefully there will be a guest bedroom wherever this might be for visitors?”

“Of course.” She isn’t being immediately critical or insistent that you move near her, so you’re ready to agree to just about anything. “No matter where we end up, there will be space for guests.”

“Good.” She will have to be satisfied with that. And hopefully with Javier being in trouble at his job, that will mean that he won’t go back to Colombia. Although, why would he? Escobar is dead.

“There’s no way to do it easily,” you point out to your mother gently. “With both of our families being so far apart.”

“I understand.” She might have broken down crying after the phone call, both in relief that you have been reunited with your soulmate and the fear of losing you again. She won’t tell you that. For too long you had tried to pretend Javier hadn’t existed and that Colombia was a bad dream, now you look happy. She’s not doing to put a damper on that for anything in the world.

“It’s alright, Ma.” Michael jokes, trying to relieve the tension at the table. “Your boys are still homebodies.”

“You never would leave if you wouldn’t get thrown in the brig.” She huffs at her son, but she is happy for how much they love their home.

You glance over at Javi, squeezing his knee under the table in silent question, and smile again when he returns your query with a little nod. Just like upstairs, he reassures you that it's okay to tell. To share the things you've talked about. "If we end up anywhere without four seasons, we're going to have to come home for the holidays at least a few times," you tell your mother, unable to suppress any of the warmth and joy in your expression. "I know you won't let your grandkids go without at least a few white Christmases."

“Babies?” Her eyes widen dramatically and she lights up like a Christmas tree herself. “You’re talking kids?”

There is the excitement you knew was lurking beneath the surface. You know it will be bittersweet for her to have you leave again, but good things are looming in the future. "Not right away," you caution her, but can't help grinning along with your mother. "But yes. We're talking about kids."

“You will make such beautiful babies together.” She sighs happily, emotional and even having to wipe away a stray tear.

"You pressed the grandma button." Michael snorts and helps himself to a second piece of lasagna. "But that means I get to be the favorite uncle, right?" He eyes Javier and raises one eyebrow. "Do you have any brothers, Jav?"

“No.” It’s unusual but he shakes his head. “I’m an only child.” He admits with a sigh. “My parents had a lot of loss early on in pregnancies. So after mama gave birth to me, they decided they were done. Pop didn’t want to risk her health.”

“Which makes perfect sense.” You squeeze his hand gently on top of the table, fingers tucked into fingers, as if that little gesture could possibly tell him that he is enough. That his family is just the right size as it is. “Our kids will already have two ridiculous uncles. That is plenty.”

“I never felt alone.” He tells you quietly. “Too many cousins for that.” He knows you will feel a little sad for him, but you shouldn’t.

“I know, cariño.” His childhood was different from yours, which doesn’t make it better or worse in any way. It just makes it different. “And if you ever catch me implying that it was, just remind me that you have more cousins than I do.”

He smiles at you, understanding completely and reaches for his glass to take a sip of the wine.

“Will there…” Your mother clears her throat in that pointed way only parents can. “Be a wedding, before there are babies? That’s the old fashioned order, I’m told.”

“Unless there’s a change in plan.” He has to admire how blunt your mother is. “My father would beat me black and blue if it was the other way.”

“Glad your father and I are on the same page.” She hums, smirking with something like victory.

He cuts his eyes over at you and gives you an amused look, very aware of the plans your mother is already making. “So we were thinking of eloping.” He announces, just to see what she would say.

The unceremonious squawk that comes out of her mouth is pure shock, you know that, but the way her jaw hits the floor and her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates has you bursting out laughing and all but clinging to Javi’s arm to jerk from falling out of your chair.

“Calm down, Mom,” you wheeze through laughter. “He’s fucking with you.”

Javi chuckles and shrugs. “She bet me twenty dollars I wouldn’t tell you that.” Michael thinks it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard and slaps Javi on the shoulder.

“I’ll buy you dinner.” You huff, rolling your eyes at him but glad that the boys are entertaining each other.

“You cannot elope.” Your mother gasps and Javi wonders if she actually heard you say it was a joke or if she was too busy having an aneurism. “We aren’t.” He promises. “We will do it right.”

“Javi wants to have a wedding.” Offering up that information seems so important now that you practically hand it to your mother on a platter. “We won’t elope, we promise.”

“I’ve had one failed trip to the altar.” He admits, being honest with your mother seems like a good thing to do. Especially since you and her are close. “My ex-fianc��e tricked me into thinking we were soulmates. I found out the night before the wedding.” He sighs. “It put me off of the idea for a long time, but I want to marry your daughter.”

“Is this…” Your mother looks at you curiously.

“The woman telling everyone about us now? Yeah.” You shrug to Javi. “I told her about meeting Lorraine on the phone.”

“She’s been around for a long time.” Javi sighs. “Small town life and all.”

“Oh, I know all about that.” Your mother nods as if she suddenly understands the situation perfectly. “My sister-in-law is the queen of small town gossip. Up here at least. They would probably be dangerous together.”

“I don’t mind people knowing.” Javi shrugs again. “So I didn’t try to keep her from running her mouth.”

"No, it's definintely not a secret." Not anymore. Not this time around. Not when you've well and truly learned your lesson about keeping your mouth shut when you care about someone. You will never abstain from telling Javi you love him again. "I'd shout it from the rooftops here and in Texas."

Javi chuckles and smirks at you. “Really? From the rooftops?”

His challenge only makes you grin and you nod emphatically. “Pick some rooftops if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.” He promises. “But I don’t think it’s necessary. I know you love me. And I’d do anything for you.”

“I’m glad we agree.” You murmur, leaning over at the table to kiss him softly. The smallest, gentlest show of affection that actually means so much. The fact that you’ve learned to be gentle with each other is huge. It shows how far you’ve come, and so quickly too.

******

“Javier, uh, there’s a call for you.” The statement comes with a little bit of bewilderment, and Javi looks at you as he leans forward, unfolding his arm from where it was lying behind you on the couch. “Okay.” He stands up quickly, aware that two people have this number, his father and the secretary for the director of the DEA. Either way, a call for him has to be important.

Your mother has set down the telephone on the nearby kitchen counter in order to come into the living room where the television is on, and she sits down in her armchair on your other side when you don't get up to follow Javier into the kitchen immediately.

"Did it sound official?" You ask, wondering if Chucho is alright or if the calls he's been waiting for from Washington has finally come through.

“It was a woman.” She frowns slightly and glances back towards the kitchen. “Like a secretary or something.”

"His hearing." Sinking slightly in your seat seems like a reasonable reaction, but a moment later you're pushing off the couch to stand. "If it were his dad, you would still be in there chatting long distance. A secretary means the call is from Washington."

Javi turns as you walk into the kitchen, still listening as he motions you forward. “Wednesday at thirteen hundred.” He confirms, frowning slightly when he realizes that it will eat into his visit with your family. He will have to get the train to D.C. tomorrow to make sure he’s there on time. “Yes. Thank you.”

He opens one arm to let you close when he hangs up the phone, and you immediately slip to his side. "Wednesday." You repeat the day and tuck yourself in tight beside him. "I'll call and get out train tickets if you want to go pack."

He sighs softly, resting his cheek against yours and feeling a little nervous. He knows that they should fire him, but he doesn’t want to end his career with the DEA like this. “Do you want to come with me?”

"Of course I'm coming." There was never a doubt or question in your mind. "I'm not going to make you face this alone, baby. Especially not when you did it for me."

“Even if I am fired, I still have no regrets.” Javi promises, dropping a kiss on your lips gently.

"If you're fired then we'll go back to Texas with our heads held high, and you'll take that deputy job." You promise him, savoring that kiss and that promise like a lifeline. "I'm with you no matter what."

“No matter what.” It might be surprising to him, something he’s still accepting and getting used to, but he takes comfort in it. No matter what, he will have you.

******

"How long do you think we'll have to wait for them to deliberate?" Waiting outside the hearing room to be called back in feels like waiting for a death sentence, but you sit with your hands under your thighs and try not to fidget in your most-presentable office dress while Javi paces up and down the hallway.

Sighing, he resists the urge to rub his hand through his hair and ruin it. It’s already been hard enough to resist having a cigarette. Fuck, he needs one. “The rest of my life.” He growls, glancing back at the door impatiently.

"At least we're on the same page." You agree, sighing outwardly and silently wishing for the same two things as him — an answer and a cigarette.

He glances back at you on his next pass down the hallway and sees you playing with your skirt. Walking over to the chair beside you and dropping down into it with a heavy huff. “Whatever happens, I’m not going to apologize for what I did.” He reminds you. “Kissing ass isn’t my style.”

"I don't expect you to apologize." No, you know him better than that. And you know the bastards in the government better than that, too. "I just wish I could go in there and start throwing punches at the assholes who preside over all the bullshit bureaucracy while they make everybody else do the dirty work."

“Fucking bastards.” He grunts, glancing back at the door again. “I should tell them to kiss my ass.”

"Aw, c'mon." You squeeze his hand, aiming a lurid grin at him to try to distract him for even a second. "That's my job."

He snorts and shakes his head. “You haven’t done it yet.” He points out, smirking slightly.

Glad that your strategy worked even for a second, you wink and blow him a kiss. "Tonight," you promise, glossing it in a sultry tone that makes both of you laugh.

The door to the room opens and Javi’s face immediately shifts into something serious. Whipping his head around to watch as a bureaucrat in a well-cut suit and a fresh haircut sticks his head out. “Peña,” he calls. “We’re ready for you.”

You squeeze his hand tightly before letting go so he can straighten, and silently curse the whole bullshit process one more time as he disappears behind the hearing room door. You aren't allowed in there despite having played a role in the whole thing, and so you're stuck outside listening at the door for at least a little bit longer.

Javi sees a panel of five in front of him and he knows that it’s not good. He’s rubbed some the wrong way, especially since Messina is one of the five. He had ignored her orders more than once in the pursuit of Escobar.

It's a bureaucratic lecture as much as a hearing. A spanking laced with backhanded compliments. It's a clusterfuck of blame gaming and backpedaling. It's the kind of bullshit that would have had you snapping at someone if you were in here with him so he is belatedly glad that you have to wait outside.

Right up until those few magic words: "Agent Peña, how much do you know about the Cali Cartel?"

******

An hour later, Javier opens the door, stepping back out onto the hall with a slightly stunned expression on his face.

"What happened?" He doesn't look upset, but you still shoot up out of your seat instantly.

He had been looking down at the file in his hand and when you say something, he looks up at you. Suddenly wondering if this might be too much for you. “I— got a promotion.” He manages.

"What?" Your jaw drops and eyebrows shoot up to your hairline.

He rocks his jaw for a moment and steps over to you. Frowning slightly. “I shouldn’t take it.” He murmurs quietly, hearing the door open behind him and the panel file out of the room, chattering to themselves.

"Do you want to take it?" It seems ludicrously obvious to you that he should take it, in fact, but Javi is not always a straightforward man.

“More than anything, but….” He sighs softly and reaches up to cup your cheeks. “I’ll walk away if you want me to.”

"Why the hell would I want you to do that?"

“I have been made station chief of Bogotá, Colombia.” He reveals softly. “Tasked with taking down the Gentlemen of Cali.”

"Shit." It feels for a second like you've been kicked in the chest by Chucho's work horse, but the swirling confusion around you settles to a sting in mere moments. "So...we're going back?"

He sees the panic that races across your face, the fear flashing in your eyes. He wants this. He wants to prove that he can do it, that he can complete his mission and take them down, but he won’t do it at your expense. “Not if you don’t want to.” It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell you to stay behind, but he knows you will reject that idea completely.

It takes a long second, but when you rest your hand on his wrist and feel the warmth of him flood you — the safety of him — you remember how to breathe. "I won't do anything stupid this time," you promise him without a hint of sarcasm or teasing. "If you say I need security, I need security. And I'm not taking any shitty jobs in dodgy parts of town."

“Are you sure?” He worries and it shows in his eyes, not caring that his superiors see him with you like this. They know the connection – now – and it’s already been determine that he would have secure housing for you and him. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to make yourself go if you can’t.” As badly as he wants this, he would never make you relive that time.

“I love you, too.” That is what he’s saying. Through the worry and the negotiation, he’s saying how much he cares, and that means the world to you. So you take a deep breath. “Escobar is dead. Whatever the new threat is…I know you can deal with it. And I’d rather try and go with you than just hide in my fear forever. If it’s too much, I’ll come back to the States and we’ll rack up a hell of a long distance bill.”

“Okay.” He watches you closely, looking for any hesitation. “We’ll be staying in a high security building.”

“I’m proud of you.” It’s so important that he know that. That he understands this is a huge victory and that you don’t let it be overshadowed by what happened years ago. “You’ve worked your ass off and you deserve the recognition.”

“We’ll see.” He snorts. “It’s more responsibility, and I’ll be more hands off.” That part will drive him crazy, not leading the investigation himself.

"You'll have office hours?" It sounds almost entirely foreign coming from a man you know used to burn the candle at every available end. "And I would be waiting for you at home...how very Donna Reed of us."

He chuckles. “Well you can always work on those family recipes and go get your hair done and have lunch.” He shrugs. “Whatever the wives do.”

"Maybe that's the first book. A family cookbook." You laugh slightly, in disbelief at how ordinary it sounds. "So when do we leave?"

Javi grimaces slight and bites his lip. “A week?” He asks. “They wanted me to leave in two days but I told them I needed a week.”

"Okay." That gets a nod from you, and you grasp his hands tightly. "We'll get train tickets to go back to Rhode Island tonight and I'll pack up, then we'll fly back to Laredo so you can pack, too? See Chucho again for a few days and then we'll fly back to Colombia from Texas?"

“That works for me if it works for you.” He hums, wondering if you are putting on a brave face or if you are just this strong.

"I'll look up Inez after we get settled." You decide, grateful for a moment to lean against him when he opens up one arm to let you into his orbit. He's worried. You know that. And you're worried too. But it took until the prospect of being apart from him again to realize that the bond between you is a hell of a lot stronger than your fear. "We'll make it work."

He almost asks if you will see about finding Vanessa and Freckles, but he doesn’t. He can’t ask that question, not right now. He nods. “It would be good for you to have someone.” He murmurs.

“I’ll do my best to make friends with the other wives,” you promise, but you know it might be futile. You’re probably going to struggle with the traditional role expected of you, but you’ll get the important things right. Being there to support him is the most important part. “There’s…no chance Steve and Connie will be there with us, I guess?”

“They are in Miami.” He tells you, shaking his head. “Family is there and they have Olivia.”

“Yeah.” It was a long shot and you knew that, so you just nod. “I didn’t think so. That’s okay. They earned their rest. You still have some serious ass to kick.” A warm, soft, fierce smile curves up the corners of your mouth, etched with pride and determination. This may not be your fight from the outside, but you have some personal demons who need to get squashed in the process.

******

“Sweetheart?” The man who would never pass up a chance to eye a beautiful woman barely looks at the young stewardess as she asks if there’s anything else he needs after delivering his drink. Glancing over at you to make sure you haven’t changed your mind about just wanting water. “Anything else?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.” At some point later you might ask for a snack but right now your water and the window seat are plenty enough.

“We’re good.” He turns back towards the slightly miffed looking woman with a nod, but doesn’t smile at her as he dismisses her.

You huff a laugh under your breath as she walks away and settle your hand over his knee in the tiny airplane seats. “You bruised her ego. Poor thing wanted to flirt.”

“Huh?” His brow furrows in confusion and he frowns as he tries to understand what you are talking about. Until he catches the woman moving out of the corner of his eye and glances over. “Oh. No.” He shakes his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

“How was she supposed to know that?” You ask with a small grin. Commitment is a very sexy look on him.

He glances back at you, aware that you are teasing him and he shifts in his seat. He’s had time to think about a lot of things. Going back to Colombia is chance for him to prove himself, in more ways than one. “I – uh, I know that I’ve been— uh, a slut.” He grimaces slightly at the term, but it’s the truth. “But even Lorraine would tell you that I never— when we were together – I didn’t cheat.”

“Javi…” His choice of term does makes you crack a grin, but you still face him in your seat and take this moment as seriously as he is in giving it to you. “To be honest? It never even crossed my mind that you might. You were both a bit slutty before.” In Colombia, at least. You haven’t been since meeting him. “And now we’re committed. It’s a brave new world of monogamy for both of us.”

It’s like he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the relief is nearly physical. He wouldn’t blame you if he couldn’t satisfy your needs, it would honestly be kind of a fitting punishment for everything he’s done, but when you say monogamy he knows you mean it. “Yeah it is.” He nods.

“We can do it.” Seeing the relief on his face is almost like seeing it on your own, and you laugh a little and lower your voice. “We both have high sex drives. I’ll just come into the office so we can fuck on your lunch break.”

“Too bad you don’t still have that skirt you wore the first day I met you.” Now that that larger than imagined weight is off his chest, he smirks at you. Still imagining how you would have looked back then bent over his desk.

"I can easily get a new pencil skirt." In fact, now that you've lost a bit of weight, it will be that much easier to find nice things. "Should be a piece of cake now."

He frowns again and reaches for your hand. “The original was fucking sexy.” He promises. “I thought about bending you over my desk and didn’t know your name.”

The reassurance is sweet, and welcome, but you lean over to press a chaste kiss to his lips and grin. "And now you actually get to do it."

“Too bad it’s a full flight.” He chuckles. “Otherwise I might haul you into the bathroom on this tin can.”

"Save it." You nudge your nose against his. "We have a new apartment to christen."

“About that.” Javi shrugs slightly. “Station chief has its perks.” He tells you. “We are in penthouse accommodations. Views of the entire city.”

“Very fancy.” He’s told you about a few perks so far, including the fact that they’ve apparently assigned him a driver that you know he won’t use. Javi’s preference is always to drive himself — even visiting your family you gave directions from the passenger seat. “No jogging up three flights of stairs this time.”

“Thank fucking god.” Javi groans, leaning back in his seat. “I’m getting too old for that shit.”

"Just wait until it's kids we're running after." You sit back with him, grin still spread across your face. "That's a hell of a lot more running, cariño."

“Fuck.” He hisses. “Do you think those little assholes will run across rooftops too?”

"Not until they're older." Your laugh turns full and amused, but you link your fingers through his and smile. "I have a feeling at least one of them will grow up to be a stubborn badass like their dad."

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “I’ve never told anyone this….and I’ll deny I said shit— but I don’t like heights.”

"Well." Fingers squeezing his, you nudge his shoulder and grin. "Then I won't ask you to fuck me against the penthouse windows. Don't need you looking down and getting scared."

“Oh no, fuck that.” His eyes shoot open and he glares at you. “That’s happening.” He huffs. “I mean I don’t like running across a roof when I have don’t know if I’m going to fall through the mother fucker and kill myself. I’ll definitely fuck you against the window.”

You smother a snort, knowing that that comment would get to him but glad to see the fire in his eyes regardless. "I'm looking forward to it."

He huffs at you, fully aware that you had baited him and he had fallen for it. Cutting his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink, he passes it to you automatically after he swallows.

"Don't be sour." He's ordered a whiskey from the stewardess and the sip you take burns pleasantly on its way down before you hand it back. "It's my only penthouse-related fantasy. I just wanted to make sure it sounded good to you, too."

“I’m not sour.” He promises after a moment. “Do you want to read the file too?” He has no intention of leaving you out of anything.

"Am I allowed to?" It hadn't occurred to you that it would be permitted, what with government red tape and all.

“Yeah.” He nods as he reaches down and pulls the file out of his briefcase. “I’ve already told them you will be read in.” He shrugs. “They don’t care since you are my soulmate.”

"I guess that saves us from having to worry about talking shop at home." Although you have to wonder if they would still be so blase if you were still employed as a journalist. Probably not. Which is fair.

“They knew I was going to do it anyway.” He admits shamelessly. “Nothing that could possibly put you in danger will be kept from you.”

"Who knows." You shrug. The flight is just beginning and you settle in for the few hours it will take to get to your layover in Mexico City. "Maybe I'll be able to help? I guess we'll find out."

******

The keys rattle in the door before it swings open, revealing Javi. Carrying his suit jacket and another box of files, he shuffles into the house and closes the door behind him. He’s later than he said he would be, and he feels guilty when he smells dinner, obviously waiting on him. Hopefully you got sick of waiting for him and went ahead and ate. “I’m home.” He calls out.

"I'm in the kitchen!" When you heard the door you had hopped up from the dinner table to throw dinner back into the oven and you stretch your aching muscles by reaching for two glasses and the whiskey bottle as he drags himself in looking haggard. "Hey baby."

“Hey.” He’s frustrated and tired, but he shoots you a half smile, aware that you will understand that. “Sorry. I got caught up.” It’s not an excuse, but at least you didn’t have to call him to find out where he was – this time.

"I figured, so I put your portion of baked pasta in a separate baker. I just put it in the oven. C'mere and let me hug you." Your arms come around him once he puts the files down on the counter, holding him against you and letting the relatively simple act of holding him evolve naturally as it always does — into a deep kiss.

Javi leans into you, unable to articulate how much he has needed you and appreciated you being here this time. He has the physical connection he needs, the emotional one just as important and he can confide in you. Pour his worries out and he knows that you would never betray him. Being the station chief in charge of this ordeal has been far more difficult than he had even imagined and it seems like no one but him and his agents want the gentlemen of Cali behind bars.

"So you brought home some weekend reading?" You prompt, after he's melted into your arms and is limply hugging you back like he does on his hardest days.

“I honestly don’t know if I can fucking do this.” He sighs, pulling back and looking at you with a weary expression. “We are being stonewalled.”

"Of course you can do this." A little self-doubt is understandable, though, and you lead him over to the table to let him flop into a chair while you go back for the glasses and whiskey. "If this was going to be easy they could have had anyone sitting in your office just napping the day away. But they asked you. They asked the man that they knew could push through the hardest days and the pull the hardest punches." You set the glasses down beside him and pour both to join him. "We've been here almost a year, Jav. We're just barely cracking the surface. The whole thing getting hard as hell right before you find a crack in the case...it's annoying as fuck but it makes sense."

He snorts, even though you are right. “It’s almost annoying how good you are at this.” He grumbles, nodding his thanks for the drink and pulling you down into his lap.

"I'd like to think I've had a little practice by now," you admit, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "Just like you've learned how to talk me down from my word count panics when I don't think I'm getting enough written to really count as a writer."

“Your book is going to be amazing.” When he needs a break from reports or the bullshit that comes with this case, he’s been reading your progressing first draft of your novel. Giving you his honest feedback and never complaining when you make him re-read a slightly changed chapter over and over again.

"I'm going to claw my way into the mystery genre with my bare hands." The two of you share a small laugh, another kiss, and a sip from the same glass before you lean your forehead against his gently. "Happy anniversary, by the way."

“Anniversary?” His brows furrow in confusion and his heart skips a beat with worry that he’s fucked up something bad.

"It's been four years since we met the first time." It isn't the anniversary of when you got together, or of when you first started living together, or any of the other things. But something small, and silly, and just for you. "It's not big, but it's worth marking."

“Oh shit.” He relaxes slightly and his fingers caress your side gently. “Yeah, it’s been four years.” In some ways, it seems like a lifetime ago, so much has changed.” That makes him think of something. “Did you ever send that letter to Helena?”

"I got back a postcard today." There is no need to hop up from his lap, thankfully, and instead you reach across the table to slide the glossy card out from under your notebook and hand it to him. "She's getting married. Apparently her soulmate was in the States the whole time. But she promises to write us a longer letter when they're back from their honeymoon in a few weeks."

“That’s good.” Probably the best news he’s heard in a long time and he picks up the card to look at the neat handwriting. “She deserves happiness.”

"She does." You can agree to that wholeheartedly. "I'm glad she found it."

He hums and leans in, pressing his face into your neck and breathing you in. “Just like we’ve found it.” He murmurs softly. “We should get married.”

"You gotta propose first, hermoso." It might only be a gentle tease, but you grin as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close. "Then I can say yes and we can get to planning."

Sitting in his button up shirt, his tie askew, Javier reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ring that he had taken out of the box earlier to inspect and shoved in his pants when Stetchner had come into his office uninvited. “You want me to get down on one knee?” He asks, holding it up for you to see. “Figured we could elope and not tell your mom. Let her plan the wedding and we just show up.”

"Javi!" The surprise of seeing an actual ring in his hand has you nearly falling off his lap but you hold on even tighter out of shock, just like thoughts start tumbling out of your mouth like they do when you get surprised. "No you don't need to get—did you really—how long have you been carrying that around for?"

“Picked it up two weeks ago?” He had been trying to think of something romantic, something fitting for your proposal, but everything seemed overkill. He showed you he loved you everyday, with the little things, not with overly elaborate proposals that could mean shit if he didn’t really want to commit. But right now seems like the right time. A very honest moment between the two of you.

"It's perfect." The ring, the moment — him — all of it. It's a standstill moment in time that could never have been manufactured and never could be duplicated. It's just for the two of you and it's perfect. You swoop in, needing to kiss him right now more than you need air.

He takes the kiss, easily, happily. Wrapping his arm around you and still holding up the ring, he lets the kiss drag on for a long minute before he pulls back with a smirk. “Is that a yes then?”

"Hell yes that's a yes." A giddy laugh bubbles out of you, and you can't help but steal one more, infinitely more chaste, kiss. "As soon as you want. We'll have to run back to the States for a weekend to actually have the wedding, but I'll let Mom plan whatever she wants and she'll be ecstatic."

“I thought you would like that.” The party is more of what Javier wants. The celebration. He doesn’t care if it’s in a church, although he’s sure that’s where it will be. And you will have already been married for however long planning the wedding takes, so you will get your way with wanting a marriage. “I love you, sweetheart.” He promises softly. “It’s fitting that our story started here and this is where we will make it forever.”

"I love you, too." He slides the ring onto your finger with satisfied pride and you don't bother blinking away the press of happy tears behind your eyes. They don't fall, you don't blubber, they're just there. Reminding you that the pounding of your heart is just as real as this moment. "I can't wait for whatever comes next."

------

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[moonstarsunearth]

Watching the hotel room scene with Tashi and Art and more and more I feel that Art was the one trying to make this personal while Tashi wanted it to keep profesional. And I think he was doing this because he desperately wanted a reason to feel again something,to play and win. That is why he was asking :" tell me it doesn't matter if I win tomorrow? Tell me if you would love me no matter what" " I am playing for both of us". While Tashi is the one wanting to keep the things professionaly :" you are the professional competitor",it must matter to him,not her ,"it can't be about avoiding my judgement" " I am your coach,I work for you".

Until Tashi finally made it personal and told him about leaving him,but did it help? I don't think so,that is why they reacted in that way and why Art was so sad and crying and Tashi with feelings of unease,it didn't work. And we see it the next day,Art is still not feeling tennis,even if she told him that,we are not seeing even a little bit of 6 grand slam winner Art Donaldson in that match against Patrick. And I think that is one the reasons she called Patrick,not just because she lived tennis trough Art,or for not fulfilling her ultimatum,or to fuck Patrick,as she said she felt winning against Patrick as Art had never did before,he could feel confident again,feel tennis again and even if he retired,it would be in his terms. She is taking care as she said to Patrick in his car.

And Tashi felt resentful about this, because she had to do that,like we don't think about how humiliating must be for Tashi to ask Patrick to lose,to show how bad Art and she are,she is asking him to save them,but she was still willingly doing it because she cared. She said in the scene when they were watching the match Art lost that she couldn't do that for him,giving his confidence back,but she is still here trying.

I even think Art isn't even sure about the retirement,that is why he wanted a reaction from Tashi when he told her,like yeah he lost his passion for tennis but I think he also wanted to have it again,he is tired not just of tennis but feeling that way,he is in a losing streak because he lost his passion,after a surgery,the brutal ,demanding,consuming life of a elite tennis player and confidence issues but also it isn't just a cause -effect thing,but a vicious cycle where his defeats made him less confident, tired and with desire to give up and retire and then he loses again... If retirement is what he really wanted and Tashi isn't confronting him,when that must be his biggest fear,why Art didn't feel any type of release at all ?

I remember their first scenes and how Tashi asked him two times " what do you want?"in different tones ,she gave him the option of retirement or continuing being tennis player and he didn't answer really what he WANTED,may be he didn't even know. They are fighting with this battle for some time after the injury,the hotel room scene is the lowest point.

[wh0reforfantasy]

Why is Jude Duarte the perfect morally grey character…

- Her parents were brutally slaughtered at a young age, and while hating Madoc, she also had a soft spot for her “father.” Since she was small, this man raised her and taught her everything she knew. Of course she had memories from her own parents, and could never forgive Madoc for what he did, but she also saw the fatherly side of him and appreciated it. Jude Duarte was created in a morally grey environment.

- Jude Duarte will do anything for her power/pride, even if it means risking everything and everyone she has. She could have easily brushed off petty insults and kept temper during her brutal bullying/harassment she was going through, like Taryn and the rest of her family insisted, but Jude never let it slide. Even if it was simple revenge that might earn her a dip into a creek, Jude always stood her ground. Later into the series, we see her completely and utterly invested with the little power she gains and how she uses it. There are considerable more risks with every power move she makes, especially everything concerned with the crown. Her family is usually an afterthought, and rarely an emotional case. Even with Oak, Jude is more concerned about the use of power and where she stands, then she is for his safe-being. Not to mention the time Jude almost killed Taryn in a squabble over Locke, which in its entirely mocked Jude and what control she had over someone close to Cardan. Jude loves her family, and will protect them, but not unless it suits her in some way.

- Everyone/anyone is her enemy… no matter how much she “trusts’ them. We see it with her relationship with Taryn, where Jude cares for her sister, but never really trusts her. Even with Cardan, while Jude was infatuated with him, she never once trusted him. All of her friends and family becomes pawns in her power game, and she will always back up herself first. This was taught to her by Madoc, who put battle/power first above his own important people and morals. Cardan was a known enemy to Jude, but he showed her a vulnerability/empathy that she showed no one else. Instead of being emotional and falling for him harder, Jude convinced herself it was an act and to use it to her advantage. Most people wouldn’t shackle a boy that was being beat by his own brother, trick him into having a crown he did NOT want to have, AND witnessed his whole family being slaughter in front of him… Jude didn’t care, she wanted the crown and her revenge.

Nonetheless, Jude has a side of her that is very protective and loves harder than the average person. Her strength and determination could be used for something more than her own gain, and she shows she is capable of that later into the series. We understand why Jude acts the way she does because we witness the pain of her character first hand. Who wouldn’t want revenge against the very people that hate her for her existence? Being human means your weak, can be controlled… a creature owned by the fae. Love was wired to be thought of as a weakness, something to make you lose the battle. In this series, we see her struggle with the choices of to love, or gain more power.

I think Holly Black made an AMAZING female lead that wasn’t written for love, but for feminine rage and power. Love didn’t stop her from gaining what she needed, what her goals were, and instead make her stronger. Jude fought most of her battles alone and failed, but got up regardless. Cardan wasn’t her knight in shining armor, it was quite the opposite. And let’s just say, the best series I’ve read so far.

[leighsartworks216]

can i request a tav x astarion where tav is mute? i wonder how they would be communicating

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I really struggled with this request, but I decided to try again on a whim and whoooo boy it's a doozy. I also did not make Tav mute, but I played with a Paladin oath I have had on my mind for a looong time so they are effectively mute

Warnings: fear of death, blood, mentions of death/dead bodies, religion, anxiety, fear, being trapped, crying, swearing, angst, hurt/little comfort, possibly OOC

Word Count: 3,624

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You huff in annoyance for the fifth- no, sixth, time. Perhaps more. The vendor stares at you as though you’re insane, even though you couldn’t possibly be clearer! You exaggerate further, pointing at the potion, yourself, and your coin purse. If he would just mark how much the damn thing cost, you wouldn’t have to keep going through this!

Astarion sighs sharply. “They want to buy the potion,” he bemoans. “Now, please, tell them the price so we can move on.”

The vendor starts with wide eyes and realization on his face. He flushes from his cheeks, down his neck, and to the tips of his ears as he stutters out the price. You shove the money into his chest and grab what you’ve paid for, before stomping off. And if Astarion slipped an extra something in his pocket while the vendor was dying of his stupidity, who would really care?

He caught up in a few long strides. “We must find a better way for you to communicate, darling. I can’t keep translating for you.”

You made a few sharp gestures.

“I don’t see the big deal in carrying a paper and pencil around,” he answered with a scoff. “Or, you know, you could just speak. I know you can.”

You glared at him. That, he didn’t need a translator for.

This had been an ongoing argument from the very moment you ran into each other on the beach. When he had you pinned to the ground and you didn’t speak, he originally thought you were just being stubborn. When he finally let you go, you’d explained to him (in writing) that you’d made an oath of silence, and that you had nothing to do with the Illithid kidnappings.

Fortunately, you discovered early on that some hand signs were shared with the Theive’s Cant, which he understood quite well. When Gale and Wyll came along, one who’d learned some sign through books and the other who learned by helping people as the Blade of Frontiers, Astarion was relieved he wouldn’t have to translate for you. Except, you continued to drag him along to act as the middle man anyway.

His solution, proposed frequently both seriously and in jest, was to break your oath. An oath of silence was a ridiculous thing to promise anyway, especially now that you needed to communicate so frequently, but any time the suggestion was posed, you’d just level him with a hard stare.

“You know I can’t do that,” you signed, annoyed.

He rolled his eyes. “Ugh, Paladins. So dedicated to the chains that bind them.”

“To break my oath would be to lose my powers. Do you want me to keep reviving your ass during battle or not?”

He sneered. “You couldn’t make an oath of vengeance or something? It would certainly be a lot easier to follow through on.”

You rolled your eyes and walked faster. You hated arguing about your oath. Wyll and Gale wouldn’t behoove you for it - so why did you bring him along, he wonders.

-

Astarion heaved, pressing against a stitch in his side that tightened with each breath. The fight was brutal. Everyone was bloody and exhausted. Shadowheart turned from the dead beast before them to help Wyll who lay prone on the ground. Karlach pulled her mighty axe from its head with a squelch and a crunch, cheering at the victory.

He chuckled breathlessly at her antics. Almost stumbling, he turned in a circle, eyes scanning the battlefield. The beast’s cronies lay still, scattered everywhere. Blood overwhelmed his senses. How did that saying go? Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink.

He frowned. He looked around again. “Where’s Tav?”

Karlach’s whoops quieted immediately. She looked around as well. “They didn’t get crushed under this,” she kicked the creature in the eye, “did they?”

He shook his head. “They weren’t close enough…” He growled, frustrated, and turned to the magic-users. “Did you see where Tav went?”

Shadowheart supported Wyll as he sat up, groaning. They both shook their heads. “Last I saw them, they were over there,” the warlock croaked, nodding over to the side. “But I don’t know how long I’ve been down for.”

Astarion winced as he jogged over to where he said, stepping over and on top of dead bodies. He took another step. His foot did not collide with floor nor flesh. His heart lurched as the world fell out from under him. A hand grabbed the neck his armor and pulled him back, falling on his ass onto solid ground.

“Careful, Fangs!” Karlach chastised worriedly. She let him go, pulling them both to their feet and brushing him off. “You alright?”

His mind was still reeling. He nodded in a daze. All he could do was stare at the nearly-invisible chasm he’d almost fallen down into… And then his mind caught up.

He raced forward again, dopping to his knees right before the tear in the earth, and leaned over it. Even his darkvision couldn’t help him see what was below; it was so dark, like all light that fell into it was swallowed up. A heavy weight settled in his chest.

“Tav?!” he shouted down into the darkness. His voice echoed. He had no idea how deep it went.

The realization set in for Karlach as well. “Oh fuck…”

“Tav, are you down there?!” He waited a moment, but he was met with only silence.

Shadowheart and Wyll rushed over. They peered into the deep with concern. Astarion shifted so he sat on the ground, legs dangling over the edge. He remembered the feeling of falling. Fortunately, he couldn’t see how deep it was, so at least vertigo did not make it seem deeper; the shadow was doing a perfect job of that on its own.

Wyll grabbed his shoulder before he could slide forward. “Astarion, we have no idea how deep it goes, or what’s down there! You could be impaled on a spike before you ever make it to the bottom. We don’t know if they’re even alive!”

“And if they are?” he growled. “They could be trapped down there with no way of telling us.”

“And you’ll be trapped down there if you go after them!”

He couldn’t argue with anything logical. So what if he got stuck down there? He needed to know you were okay. His blunt nails dig into the stone edge, knocking loose flecks of rock and sediment. How could he just leave you down there?

Shadowheart looked around at the bodies. “We could make some rope. Lower it down, see if they grab on.”

He snorted mirthlessly, sneering at the cleric. “And if they’re too injured to?”

She glared back at him. “I don’t see you proposing any better ideas.”

Karlach and Wyll shared a look. It seems they’d have to be the level-headed ones here… “We can strip the bodies. Tie their clothes together until it’s long enough.” To hopefully reach the bottom, was left unsaid.

Karlach and Shadowheart got to work immediately, working to remove the clothes of their fallen enemies, scrunching their noses in disgust all the while. Wyll squeezed Astarion’s shoulder and joined them, trying to decide what clothes were in good enough condition to hold weight. Astarion stared into the pit for a while longer.

-

Your head spun. Everything ached. Each breath was like fire in your lungs. You bit your lip to silence your whimpers, biting down so hard you could taste iron in your mouth.

As the pain ebbs to a manageable level, you try to figure out where you were. It was dark. You couldn’t make out your hand right in front of your face. You couldn’t even be sure your eyes were open. You only knew they were when you looked up and saw light coming from far above you. It was dim and flickering - the flames of the braziers that lined the battlefield.

You blinked into the darkness, willing your eyes to adjust. Cautiously, you reached out your hands and felt around. The ground beneath you was covered in fine gravel, almost like sand. The finer sediment stuck to your hands when you pulled away. There was a wall behind you, possibly made from slate. It would be impossible to climb. With a muffled groan, you’re able to reach your foot out and touch the opposite wall. The effort leaves you panting.

You lay still on the floor for a minute. Clearly, you fell from quite high up. How far was still a mystery, but the fact was you did fall. When you’ve caught your breath, you feel for any injuries. Your armor restricts you, but it seems to have protected you for the most part. You’ll be bruised as hell, but you can’t find any open wounds. At least you were fortunate there.

You look up again. You can’t hear anything coming from above, but you’re unsure if it’s from the depth of the chasm or because the battle is over. You hope they are able to win the fight without you. All your companions are strong in their own right, you know they can pull through this.

You squint at the opening above. You think you see something moving at the top, but it’s merely a speck. Using the wall and gathering your waning strength, you push yourself to your feet. You heave as you lean against the slate. The silhouette is still too far away to make out.

T..av….

A distant cry, distorted heavily by the chasm. It takes a moment for you to recognize it as your name. Your heart leaps in your chest.

… av….. Ar… d..wn… the..re…

You can’t tell who’s calling down to you, but you take faith in the knowledge it must be one of your companions. The beasts wouldn’t know your name. Now you just have to signal them somehow…

You feel around your body for your sword, but the sheath is empty. It must have fallen elsewhere, perhaps only feet away, but you can’t see worth a damn. You try instead to cast a ball of light. It should be easy - it’s a spell you’ve cast a hundred times before. But as you strain to conjure even a spark, you become lightheaded. Your knees buckle, collapsing you back to the gritty floor. You try again, but you can feel your energy being sapped away. Your hand falls weakly to the ground.

You rest your head back against the wall and think. You can’t use your sword to hit the rock and make a sound, or defend yourself if something lurks within the darkness. You can’t cast a light, nor any other spell, lest you fall completely unconscious and make your chances worse. The more options you run out of, the more desperate you become. You try reaching out to their tadpoles, but they must be too far away.

You’re stuck.

A sob chokes you as it forces its way up your throat. Even that is muffled by you, by pure habit at this point. You’ve held your oath for years; you’ve learned how to stay silent even under the worst situations. Now it’s come to bite you in the ass.

You look up at the dim light, blurred through tears. They burn as they just keep coming. Your lip quivers as you quietly gasp for air. You’re going to die down here.

Your last option, you’ve already dismissed before it fully forms. You could break your oath, call up to them, cry out for help with the last of your strength. But to do that would leave you even more helpless than before. To speak was to lose your powers. Your god would rip them away in a heartbeat, until you plead for forgiveness; pray for hours and hours to swear your allegiance and dedication once more.

A slave to the chains that bind you.

But what choice do you have?

You try to catch your breath, slow the hiccups and sobs down until you can fill your lungs with air. You open your mouth, try to form the words, but it comes out as a weak sound, almost a poor facsimile of a donkey’s bray. You haven’t spoken for years, to do so now was an astronomical feat. You feel the burn of your god’s eyes as they watch you actively work to break your oath.

You try to speak again. You form an h sound, but it’s so quiet, it’s hardly enough to be considered speaking. You need to shout. You need to let your friends know you are alive down here. Anxiety grips your heart as you imagine being left down here alone, left to starve to death, or worse.

You swallow. You have to do this. You can do this.

“H..e..lp,” you croak out, a mere whisper. It’s raspy and breathy, but it’s a word. You feel your power being sapped away. You nearly sob again. Your god would abandon you down here. An unfeeling master who only craves loyalty. Astarion was right.

You take another deep breath and try harder. “H-elp..!” It’s still a strained rasp, but you hear it begin to echo off the walls. Louder. It needs to be louder. You cup your hands around your mouth. “Help!” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the burning in your throat. “HELP!”

-

Astarion’s hands are raw from tying knots. Karlach will bring him big piles at a time, plopping them down beside him, and he’d add them all onto the already-quite-long rope. It was perhaps 30 feet long by now, but he wasn’t confident it would reach.

Wyll sighed, exhausted. “We’re almost out of clothes, my friend.”

Astarion doesn’t look up, barely paying attention to the warlock enough to tell him to keep working. Calluses on his hands open and turn into blisters. He winces with each knot he pulls tight. But he won’t stop. How can he?

Shadowheart sighs as she pulls the pants off another corpse. She’s seen far more anatomy in one hour than she ever wished to again. Karlach sits down by the pile and pulls the other end of the rope into her lap. She begins working to tie more on.

They work silently, but rather efficiently. In another minute, the rope has grown considerably longer. Blood begins to stain Astarion’s end.

“Fangs, maybe you should take a break.” He shakes his head, frowning as he grabs a robe off the pile. Karlach is about to insist, get Wyll or Shadowheart to take over, when a sound comes from the pit. Astarion drops everything and scrambles over as fast as he can.

He tilts his head, facing his ear down into the depths. And he listens…

H..E..LP!

He immediately shouts down into the hole. “We’re going to get you out!” He rushes back to his feet and to the rope. The others drop their half-naked corpses, and Karlach finishes tying one last knot. They help Astarion drag it over to the pit, all lining up to hold onto the end, though, to be honest, Karlach will be doing most of the heavy lifting. He guides the end over the edge, and hurriedly lowers it down. He wants to throw it in, but he’d rather not throw somebody else over the edge with the sudden weight.

He’s knelt right on the edge, wide eyes staring, searching into the dark. He has no idea how close they are to you, or even if it’s long enough. He hopes your god is merciful enough to play with fate.

“Find the rope!” He shouts down. He hopes his voice is reaching you. “We’ll lift you up!”

It’s too quiet for too long. If his heart still beat, it would be racing faster than a rabbit’s on the run. Dread builds up, heavy and unpleasant, in his chest instead. Did you pass out? Was the rope long enough? Would he have to slide down and carry you back up? What was taking you so damn long?!

He’s a second away from removing his armor to climb down when the rope shifts, being tugged by something down in the darkness. He can only hope it’s you. He scrambles to his feet and gets in front of Karlach, grabs hold of the rope with bloody fingers, and begins pulling you from the pit.

Somehow they manage to work as a unit. He’s scrambling to pull you out as fast as possible, but Karlach manages to get him to slow down. If they could do long pulls, they could drag you out faster with less work. He worries his lip between his teeth. Each knot that slips over the edge adds to his anxiety. He’s waiting for the moment it reaches the end and nothing is there. He can only take solace in the fact he can feel your weight holding on. Gods, he thinks desperately, just keep holding on.

After an eternity of pulling, a hand reaches over the ledge. Karlach makes up for his absence when he lets go and falls to his knees at the edge. He reaches in and wraps his hands under your arms, heaving you up and, finally, back on solid ground. He pulls you solidly into his arms, sliding back away from the edge. He’s sick and tired of chasms.

You’re no longer wearing your armor, and your weapons belt is gone, too. Fine, black dirt sticks to your clothes and hands, and even smears across your face, washed away by a stream of tears. He wipes them away with one hand; he can’t give a damn about the blood he leaves in its place.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes. You sob as fall forward, your head landing solidly against his shoulder. Your whole body trembles and shudders with each cry. He’s disconcerted by the sound of your voice, no longer purposefully muffled. He threads his fingers into your hair, holding you to him. “Shh. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

-

If your body ached at the bottom of the pit, now you couldn’t even think about moving. Astarion had carried you as far as he could and then some, until Karlach had to take you from his arms before he dropped you. Even then, he stayed right by her side, watching you anxiously.

Back at camp, Shadowheart healed what she could, but most of her energy was spent during the fight. Haslin took over, but even the best he could do would have you bruised and in pain for the next few days. He went into the woods for ingredients to make a soothing balm.

Wyll helped you drink water, and Gale helped you drink some broth, to hold you over until he could make dinner proper. Lae’zel rifled through your veritable hoard of supplies to find you some suitable armor and weapons, and worked to sharpen and polish them.

When you were finally given the chance to rest, Astarion carried you from your bedroll into his tent, laying you down on his own bedroll. He provided as many pillows as you wished, as many blankets as you could ever ask for. He gathered a bowl of water and a fresh cloth and worked to clean the grime off your face.

You watched blankly, too emotionally and physically exhausted to process much. He passed the cloth over your forehead. It was blessedly cool, but the flash of red that crossed your vision could not be ignored.

Arms like lead, you willed a hand to grab his, stopping him mid-swipe. He winced as you pried the cloth from his hand, where it dropped wetly onto your neck, and ran your thumb along his palm. Blisters and blood covered every inch, skin torn and peeling in places. Without even thinking, you try casting a spell to heal him.

Whereas before, when you tried to cast a spell, you could feel it draining your energy from you, now you just felt nothing. It was like dipping a bucket into a well and coming up empty. There is no more magic within you to fuel a spell. Tears prick at your eyes again.

Astarion sighs, long and low. “You don’t have your magic.”

It takes far too much effort to even shake your head. You take a breath, and through the rasping pain, you speak. “They… took it away when… I called for help…” You swallow thickly. Your voice was foreign to you.

It was foreign to Astarion, too. He could recognize the way you signed, the slight variations of years of experience against Gale’s book-perfect signing or even Wyll’s slower, more purposeful movements. He associated it with you so strongly. To hear you speak was like watching a ventriloquist put on a show.

A bitter feeling took hold within him. Just like all gods, all masters, all people with power to laud over another, you were abandoned in your darkest hour, by someone you spent so long dedicated to. Prayers, offerings at alters, your faithful silence - it would never be enough, not to a god who always craved more.

But now isn’t the time to say I told you so. Gently, he removes his hand from your grasp. Your hand flops back to your side. He takes the cloth from where it rested at your neck, re-wets it, and continues cleaning your face.

He doesn’t say anything as he wipes away your tears, catching them before they have a chance to slide down to your ears. When the sobs choke you, he helps you drink some water. When your sorrow lulls you to sleep, he tucks you in and stays by your side, a faithful argus.

---

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[theoncomingchaos]

Episode 11 vs. the Original Novel

The time line has gotten a little jumbled here, but key dialogue and moments are mostly the same.

Biggest Differences:

Huai'en gets the flower from Yuzhan's base first WITHOUT saving Xiao Yu. She is very clever in the book, so she puts a knot on the box that Xiaobao recognizes as hers. So, when Huai'en asks what he has to do for forgiveness, Xiaobao tells him to rescue Xiao Yu.

This also means that Xiaobao is healed BEFORE Xiao Yu is saved.

In the book, Huai'en breaks his mother's pendant in half so they each have a piece.

The battle was MUCH more brutal in the books. Huai'en faces off against all his old teachers (that crew following Yuzhan around) They are all masters and have this crazy formation they can do and they nearly kill him. Even when Prince Shen and others arrive, as he is escaping he still gets shot in the back with arrows, but he continues to cover Xiao Yu so she doesn't get hurt. Their horse also goes down. (They get another one). But it really showed just how far Huai'en was willing to go to try and earn Xiaobao's forgiveness.

Homophobia: The book doesn't have homophobia really. In fact, Xiaobao explains that a few years ago it was a big fad for people to have male lovers. Xiaobao wasn't really into it at the time, but he did try it because his friends kept pushing. He never fell for a man until Huai'en. So, while the homophobic comment is weird, Su Yin, DOES think that getting married and having children (which is what his best friend had always wanted) is still the best way for him to live a happy life. He still sees Huai'en as someone who can't be trusted and will just hurt Xiaobao again, so he is doing all of this to protect him.

In the book they make it very clear early on that Master and Madame Jin, as well as Xiao Yu herself, want Xiaobao to marry Xiao Yu. Xiaobao is NOT interested and only sees her as a sister. Su Yin, being close with the family and knowing how much they love each other, thinks this is a better future for him than being with Huai'en.

Xiao Yu does NOT forgive her adopted parents right away, but there is a feeling of one day she'll try to reconnect with them. So, having some note from the mother for her and having her wanting to go home to them is pretty different.

Si Ming & Jin Bao have no past together in the book, so this was MUCH better. I'm also really happy they included my favorite line about not touching other people before touching Si Ming.

Overall, I think not having Xiaobao ask Huai'en to rescue her makes it seem more like he is being caring and selfless on his own which is better character growth.

As for Su Yin, I stand with my cancelled wife.

We REALLY missed out on the banter between Huai'en and Xiao Yu. It is so good (unhinged):

With the wind whistling past her ears, Xiaoyu shouted, "If you can't hold on until I see my brother again, you're worthless."

Gritting his teeth, Huai En replied, "If I don't see him, you'll never see him again in your life."

"If my brother knew you killed me, even if you died, he wouldn't forgive you."

"I won't give him the chance to know if I kill you. He'll never find out."

[prettynice8]

Kinkmas Day 15: Bondage

Pairing: Kento Nanami x male reader

This guy

Warnings: Kissing, marking, smashing, creampie, overstimulation, kind of mean Nanami, already boyfriends, BDSM? bondage DUH.

Word count: 723

Jesus Christ when was he getting home? The worst part of marrying a sorcerer was by far the unpredictable hours. You weren't worried about him; you never really were. Nanami could kill most cursed spirits easy, and it was after five 'o'clock so even more likely that he's fine, you were just mad that he wasn't here yet. He said he was going to show up at 5, but it is now 7 and still not even a text.

"Fucking asshole." Is what you said when your boyfriend finally walks through the door.

"Who is?" He asked, utterly confused as to what he walked into. You give him a bitter look.

"You." You stated sharply, "You said you were going to be here by five. IT'S SEVEN NOW!"

"I'm sorry dear but I can't see the future, there was a large amount of particularly difficult curses I had to deal with." He apologized, bringing you in for a hug, but you pull away.

"I do not care, if it took you an extra two hours to come home, then you should be dead." You stated coldly, "So what's the T."

"Fine, I can't lie to you, I went to the bar afterwards." He confessed, slowly walking towards you, you don't back away, admittedly wanting to feel his touch. "I am sorry for deceiving you, I just needed to relax, I was battling curses until 5:30."

"Why didn't you come to me?" You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes, a sense of inadequacy welling up inside. Nanami realizes this and goes over to you, trapping you in a loving embrace, it was then when he got an idea.

"Hey." He said, trying to get your attention. "I have an idea on how to make you feel better." He said seductively, and a smirk to match.

You were surprised with what he meant until he picked you up bridal style and led you into the bedroom, neatly placing you on the bed. He follows suit by going on top of you, roughly kissing your lip while also rubbing his already hard and clothed cock on yours.

You both the switch to pulling off your clothes, longing to feel each other. You pull him in for another kiss, mouth already open, which he takes full advantage of, sticking his tongue in, dominating yours.

Your arms reach out to touch him, needing to feel him as close as possible... and he stops you. Your stunned, shocked, surprised, confused, why would he stop you? Your answer is soon given when he ties up your hands to the bed post with his tie.

You thrash around, trying to break free from your bindings but to no avail. All you can do is lay there while he blows your back out, not that you're necessarily complaining.

"Well, that didn't take much convincing." He exclaimed, smirking.

"We literally did this last Tuesday, it's not like we're college students experimenting for the first time." You stated sassily.

He shuts you right up by thrusting into you out of nowhere and without warning, practically giving you whiplash. You try to wrap your arms around his neck, but the constraints making it impossible.

Nanami shoves into you rapidly, giving you no chance to breath. He slides in easily enough though, after all he has pounded into you many a time. His hand goes to pump your hard dick that's spilling your pre cum, messily fondling it in his hand.

He starts to sync up his hand with his thrusts, matching it perfectly as he brutally pounds into your ass hole, while his hand is steadily pumping your cock. During all of this his lips are attacking your nipples, sucking on the right one while his tongue is lazily licking over the bud.

Your hands pull at his tie that's connecting you to the bed frame, needing to feel him, release right over the horizon.

"Please Nanami." you begged, "Please I need this."

"Fine, you've been good enough." He said, giving into your begging untying the knot on your hands.

Your arms instantly go to pull him into a passionate kiss, finally sending over the edge. Nanami follows close after, giving you one last peck on the lips before cumming in your ass.

You fall asleep in his arms, finally being able to hold him.

THE END

Notes: Fuck jjk again.

[quitealotofsodapop]

This idea would probably be for soft Boiled and slow boiled, basically any au where Wukong is MK's teacher and not his sibling or parent. Kaiju forms.

I personally headcanon the kaiju forms and projections in the show (Mei's dragoon and Macaque's giant war form) are more... projections of one's soul/true self. So... for those who are not aware, Wukong does canonically have one on the book. It's a giant limbed monkey and with multiple heads and arms. It so is canonically so terrifying that it had frightened both his enemies and his own people so badly he had been utterly heartbroken by the event.

Sometime between s4 and s5, Wukong is working with MK to help him get used to his new monkey form and trying to help him control it. The kaiju form MK took dueint the battle with Azure comes up and MK asks about it. When Wukong explains what it was, MK gets super excited to learn and wants Wukong to teach him except...

Wukong: Sorry kid, I can't teach you how to control your kaiju. You'd actually be better off asking either Mei or, ugh, Macaque!

MK: WHAT!? Why not!?

Yesss

Wukong canonically does not like his War/Kaiju Form.

The clearest idea I could gt of how it might have looked was from a toy site, I imagine in LMK verse its lot more solid-coloured and vaguely shaped;

In Jttw he loses all interest in his victory against Heaven when his Kaiju Form scares his own people - and if we add in the Brotherhood, Macaque as well.

We discussed in dms how Wukong's anger under the mountain was likely a mixture of despair (they lost and couldn't save their bros from punishment), pain (fresh from the Furmace yo), and self-hatred.

This newly unlocked form of his - this manifestation of his inner self, was so terrifying that his own people, his allies, his own mate fled at the sight of it.

Macaque did "run off" that day, hence part of Wukong's anger. But afterwards, after the fight, Macaque had to admit to himself that while Wukong's kaiju-form was terrifying it had also been beautiful. Beautiful and sublime like a star going supernova.

Macaque's own Kaiju can be separated from him as a shadow of himself, but he's secretly ashamed of his reaction to Wukong's all those centuries ago. When he does let his Kaiju form take over his real body, it becomes primal, impulsive and brutally honest. Something that honestly helps with how quick he is to dodge confrontation.

Mei's (and by extension Ao Guang's) "dragons" are literal manifestations of what their true forms may be. Mei could have her own American-Dragon-style dragon form she could flaunt if she worked at it. That or the energy is literally Ao Lie's spirit coming in clutch as a power-up.

Ao Guang's dragon-energy meanwhile looks like his lego set colouration, suggesting homebody just a big lazy to waste his true massive form on them.

So when Wukong and the gang sees MK's own Kaiju/War-form for the first time during his fight with Azure....

Wukong is like "NOPE! Not my expertise!" cus he literally only used his War Form twice in the entirety of the book - the Battle of Flower Fruit Mountain, and when him and DBK had a Kaiju vs Kaiju battle together later in the Journey.

When MK prods him about it, Wukong becomes... kinda cold and closed off, telling MK that he's better off talking to Macaque about it.

Macaque is still barely in the "anti-hero" category, so MK is a little hesistant to ask him for help (especially since one of Macaque's teaching methods included a rom hack).

MK even tries going to DBK on the matter first, but the retired-demon king has a similar negative reaction. Seems that even he didn't like the Bull he became when him and Wukong truly fought. It's why he even refused to transform when he was under true duress from LBD or the Brotherhood.

DBK does give MK advice on what a "Kaiju/War form" is though. DBK's mind had been clouded with anger when he was a younger man, so his became a pure-white charging bull that destroyed all in it's path. Sun Wukong does not care for his War Form since it truly scares him to use.

MK thinks that impossible! Why would the Monkey King be afraid of his own super-cool power?

Until DBK asks him something important; "Aren't you afraid of yours?"

MK's complex over learning that he's a "Harbinger of Chaos" hits immediately, and he runs off to seek Macaque's guidance.

Macaque is amused, if not a little surprised that MK ultiamtely went to him for help with his Kaiju form.

MK: "Trust me bro, you're like my third choice. I can't ask Mei cus not even she knows how her's works." Macaque: "Eh. I'll take it. I am curious why yours is so much more taller than mine though."

Hint: it's a self worth thing Macaque developed whilst under the Brotherhood that he needed to "limit the space he took up", he's still working on that.

Some fun mentor-and-son-figure kaiju training occurs, and MK eventually asks a bombshell question;

MK: "Hey when Monkey King said you ran off, what did he mean?" Macaque, stiffens: "I didn't run from the celestial army if thats what you're wondering." MK, remembering what DBK said: "Were you afraid of Him?" Macaque, pauses and sighs: "At the time yes." MK: "At the time?" Macaque: "MK, in that moment, I hadn't known Wukong even had a War Form or even knew what they truly meant. All I saw was this... demon where my best friend once stood." MK: "OH... I mean... that sorta explains why you guys were fighting under the mountain." Macaque: "Yeah. You can see why I called him-" MK: "I mean, I wouldn't know how bad I'd feel if Mei ran away from me cus of my power up..." Macaque: "...what?" MK: "You ran away from your best friend. That's not cool. Scared or not, that was your buddy in there. And if he saw you running or I dunno shadow portal-ing away, I'd get why he was so salty when you popped up later with a peach like nothing had happened. From his view, he was going through something new and terrifying for him too and you abandoned him. Twice if you never came back to check in on him." Macaque: "... you're a smart kid MK. Way too smart for me." (*Macaque portals away to make a long overdue apology*)

Macaque himself seemed to be having a similar revelation when he saw the fight in 3rd person in the Memory Scroll. That his own reaction was more of a build-up of frustration from his treatment in the Brotherhood rather at Wukong specifically.

In Short; these bitches needed a relationship referee to call a yellow car when they tossed their unrelated anger at each other.

Bonus: I love the idea of Wukong's kaiju form being HUGE, and MK's being the medium between him and Macaque. Also, cuddly giant monkeys made of light and shadow.

[glasskey]

Nick & June's Mix tape Vol. 3

With volume 3 comes the battle for Holly, separation and the unveiling of painful secrets. Season 3 was notoriously poor to our 2 lovers with June becoming seriously twitchy without Nick, Hannah or Holly. Gilead is Hell.

What Are You Good For?

Love in Gilead is less than ideal. One day you’re dreaming about a beautiful beach with your beloved and the next he’s been promoted to Top Boy at the local horror show. Granted he looks great in the suit but Nick doesn’t seem to like the new tie, grabbing at it like the tightening noose that it actually is. Fred was obviously pissed about the baby snatching and his “reward” for Nick was to arrange a promotion complete with a quick trip to the front, undoubtedly to die.

I’ve often said that Nick sometimes DOES listen to his better angels and sometimes he takes the easy way out. Granted it’s difficult he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, but when June asks him to take the high road, hightailing it with her and Hannah for the border, and he doesn’t, it earns him a brutal verbal slap.

“What are you good for?” she demands and I was instantly reminded of S1 when June confronted him with his lowly aspirations: “Is this it? You’re just gonna polish his car and once in a while get a Handmaid pregnant?” In both of these moments Blaine looks deeply shamed, June has shown him that while she loves him she’s also acutely aware of his shortcomings.

It’s a justified blow to his ego, particularly given his newly acquired power and his reluctance to use it for good. As she demonstrates her willingness to risk so much more for freedom, he’s left feeling like a small and suitably chided man, instead of the patriarchal Gilead’s new Big Commander. “You’ll get killed” June says with a cold finality as he tells her that he’s been sent to the front, confronting him with the reality that his unquestioning loyalty to Gilead will now surely cost him his life. It’s madness.

This is one of the only scenes where Nick and June are not depicted in a glowing light, it’s difficult to ignore that Nick is now almost swallowed by the shadows. Over the last 2 seasons, they’ve become one another’s beacon of joy and hope and there’s a palpable air of desolation and sorrow here, as these two bid each other goodbye, possibly forever. The camera reveals Nick and June divided by a wall, Nick unwilling to leave her, his back literally pinned to the wall by the heavy weight of Gilead.

June opens the door, gently reaches around, sensing him waiting, somehow their hands finding one another and she leads him out of the dark hallway and back into her room. Doors often represent entrances to other worlds and here we see June reach across the divide to return him to her side, once again. The lock snaps shut signalling an almost unheard of privacy. There’s a sense of finality in it too, as though it may be the last time these two see sanctuary for a long time, if ever again. It’s no more than 10 seconds of screen time and yet it encapsulates their relationship so perfectly. Nick constantly waiting in the shadows, bound by duty, and June always reaching across the divide to bring him in from the cold.

Nice Girl Like You in A Place Like This

The DC episode ranks right up there with the Boston Globe episode as one of the most important and insightful for this entire series. In Ep 6 June witnesses for the first time the absolute devastation this dictatorship has unleashed on her countries seat of power. Fittingly Fred has selected new wave DC as the location to construct his own personal piece of propaganda in an attempt to force the Canadians to hand Nicole back. June’s depicted glowering with vast angel wings, a monolith of power and holy vengeance. In the middle of Fred’s little directorial debut, Nick strolls in and June does the trademark jaw drop. Fred wants to know what he’s doing there, after all he had arranged for him to be shipped off to the front after the whole holding him at gun point / baby napping thing. Despite Fred’s best efforts though, it seems that not only does Blaine continue to breath, but he’s also shown up to visit his girlfriend.

Now if you thought Blaine looked good in a suit, wait till you see him draped in long, dark, tailor made, hotness. It’s obvious there’s a new kind of swagger to him and as he steps up next to June he brushes her hand and drops the line “Nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” It’s a line lifted from a Scorsese film of the same name and Blaine’s used it to flirtatiously lighten the intensely grim mood. He knows DC is Hell but he also knows June is anything but a “Nice Girl”, she blushes barely containing a smile and he smirks.

Fred and Serena can’t help but notice it and Fred’s seething with jealousy. There’s a close shot of Serena’s false finger clenching, a sign of the love lost between her and Fred, that contrasts directly against Nick and June’s hand brushing. Exchanges between Fred and Nick reek of power and control. Fred directs Nick to do his bidding, maneuvering him across the stage and verbally leashing him by calling him son, once again reducing him to a subordinate. Fred makes June kneel down for the camera, and Blaine looks away unable to watch. Unbeknownst to Fred, this will be the last time he ever exercises this type of control over Blaine.

This is Your One Chance

Here we got our epic movie moment for the series, It was like Gone with the Wind and Dr Zhivago all rolled up into one big romantic snow globe. June runs out to meet Nick her hair and cape fluttering behind her freely, a stark contrast to the DC handmaids brutally silenced. It demonstrates the freedom she feels he brings her. Nick, however seems to want nothing to do with June’s gamble on the Swiss that involves him laying his neck on the line and entwining himself in yet another Governments manoeuvrings for power. I, for one could hardly blame him; the last time he got involved with politics he ended up in the bottomless pit that is Gilead and he’s been unsuccessfully digging his way out ever since.

Add to this the fact that the last time he tried to help June, a multitude of people risked their lives and most certainly died, and you have one understandably reluctant Commander. But he’s helpless, she forces him to look in her eyes, tears streaming down her face and tells him that it’ll be his one opportunity to truly show his love and fealty for his daughter.

Now while some may doubt that Blaine ever showed up to speak with the Swiss, I can guarantee that this little exchange ensured that he did. The fact is, Blaine is a sucker for the loyalty card and once June played it, it was a done deal. Scenes are cut and included for a reason and as we know, in The Handmaid’s Tale, even the smallest scene is there for a reason. Show runners went to the effort of showing Blaine at the embassy being called to give information; he showed up, albeit reluctantly, and despite the fact that it all went sideways, writers still wanted you to know that. Unfortunately the reality is, he just couldn’t face her after it did all go to shit, and as a result he beat a hasty and somewhat cowardly exit to the front.

He knew the Swiss would soon tell her he’d been part of the Sons of Jacob who’d been integral to the inception of Gilead, something he’d kept hidden from her for some time now, and she’d be suitably mortified. June IS devastated, she looks out on the glowing playroom once filled with happy children that lies noticeably empty and silent. It reflects her isolation and sense of abandonment; perhaps the family she envisioned with Blaine was just a fantasy.

DC was an episode designed to illustrate the total destruction of all of our personal and societal freedoms under Gilead. To properly demonstrate this writers pulled the rip cord on any emotional support June may have previously had, this included breaking her and Serena up and having Nick leave her somewhat high and dry. It was essential to illustrate Nick was manipulated and part of the Gilead machine from the beginning. It was difficult to watch, given his devotion, but from the moment I saw him cloaked from head to foot in black, practically swallowed by his uniform, I knew it was inevitable that at least for now, Gilead pulled the strings.

In our next 2 Nick and June Mix tapes I’ll be covering Season 4, which was somewhat kinder to the Osblaine fans. Back soon.

[amuseoffyre]

@triflesandparsnips made a rather spiffy observation on my post about Ed and face-touching:

It may be worthwhile, considering how much face/mouth violence Ed is sensitive to -- and when we see or hear about it -- to do a review of how much of that face sensitivity is also associated with food and eating.

And hooboy, I ended up down a rabbithole thinking about Ed and food and it got so long, it earned itself its own little post.

These are all the food/eating related moments that tie in directly to Ed having strong emotional responses. I didn't limit it to just the face-touching because there's a lot of emotional mess going on as well.

When Stede wakes him for brekkie in 1x04, he recoils immediately as he wakes, until he realises who's beside him (especially pertinent since Ed wakes in 2x03 and asks if anything was done to him while he was unconscious - he even anticipates harm while sleeping).

in 1x05, when he's being taught the intricacies of dining and the French captain slaps on his big red trauma button while he's sitting at a dining table and already feeling out of his depth with all the tablewear.

Cut to the flashback in 1x05 which has him and his mum talking quietly in one part of the room, but his father is there, slumped and drunk on the family dining table, setting the domestic sphere as a place of constant present threat.

Later in 1x05, when he's alone at the party, he's freaking out over not knowing how to deal with this kind of fancy-folk dining and then someone touches his face - double-whammy of the emotional stuff and the physical.

1x06 gives us the main flashback to his childhood and his father's violent reaction to 'slop' and 1x07 has stressed, out-of-his-comfort-zone hangry Ed, trying desperately to keep up the Blackbeard appearance ("Blackbeard can't be seen treasure hunting!") and again, something touches his body/head unexpectedly and he lashes out defensively.

There is so much going on in the brekkie scene that I can't even get into it here. Ed trying to code-switch between the way he interacts with Stede and Jack respectively, but most significantly, when Jack talks over him and ignores him trying to change the subject about violence he's done in the past, Ed shrinks down in the chair, doing the small-and-quiet thing he does when he's unhappy (one day I will yell about Ed taking refuge surrounding himself with gold/yellow things - blankets, chairs, robes, pillowforts. His version of the battle jacket).

1x10 has several moments. First is the marmalade - there's something child-like about the blanket fort and eating sweet sticky things with his fingers, taking comfort in food and hiding.

The second is something that is viscerally explained in S2 - when he forcefeeds Izzy his own toe. The contrast of the brutality and the very paternal "now don't forget to chew" like an adult talking to a child gave me chills the first time I watched it.

The last thing in 1x10 isn't necessarily food, but hooooboy there is something in the way he sets himself up at what was Stede's brekkie table, putting on the worst of personas possible, that is very much reminding me of his dad at the table in a bare, empty home, lit by a single candle, in that first flashback.

And now, into S2, and our man starts things in a totally healthy and normal way - eating the cake with his weapon. And, more importantly, "did everybody get cake?" Again, we have the juxtaposition of implicitly care-taking language against the surrounding violence and brutality.

The gravy basket tells us so much as well - he wakes up to the horror of being vulnerable, trapped by his own body and force-fed by someone who we learn had a habit of forcefeeding live crabs to people and who had threatened to flay Ed's skin off and feed it to him. He's rightfully afraid that anything Hornigold feeds him might be poisoned.

Once again, we have the parental energy of "open up for the cargo ship" tangled up with the fear of threat and violence and horror - poisoning, flaying and force-feeding.

Ed's fear has the two utterly bound up together, inescapably so. His father shaped his childhood and Hornigold stepped into that role when Ed became an outlaw.

But even in this messy and horrifying confrontation with his own psyche and layered up with the horrors he's lived through as a boy, some part of Ed still desperately wants the comfort and security of food and home, especially when the food his subconscious is gathering for him are the ingredients for Māori boil-up, something his mother would very likely have made for them.

It speaks measures that the three things he wants to live for include good food and warmth and orgasms. No fame. No glory. No reputation. Just to be loved and safe and warm and fed.

Jump forward to 2x04 and dinner with Bonny and Read. Ed is unsurprised by the degree of violence happening throughout, but does hesitate when poison comes into the equation - "I got the present you left for me in my glass" - Ed immediately sets down his glass, staring at it warily. Again, calling back to the Gravy Basket and his fear that anything given to him might be poisoned.

He's already on edge and off-balance - "not sure what's real and what's the basket" and there may or may not be poison and knives and the person he trusted may or may not betray him again and he's already spinning out when Anne - who had already declared her intention to provoke Ed and Mary - cheerfully lands the bombshell of why Stede left him.

No small wonder he storms out of the room, but it does lead to them having a much-needed conversation and he and Stede are on a much steadier footing after.

And then, of course, we have the breakfast of 2x07. This one is especially significant because Ed makes the brekkie then disposes of his leathers. He's actively trying to step from one mode of life to another, from the Blackbeard-and-Piracy into the domestic, softer life he's been quietly craving his entire life.

Only, as he says himself, "I don't think I've ever made regular breakfast for anyone before". He's trying, but it's something new and unfamiliar to him and it's "my way of saying thank you".

And lastly, we have the scene with the fisherman and his son where Ed has shoe-horned himself into what he thinks is the solution to all his problems and also includes a father-son dynamic, because our man can't do anything without his daddy issues rearing their ugly head.

Once again, Ed is out of his depth, but at the opposite end of the scale from the party ship. This is a place he thinks he should fit but he doesn't. This is the domesticity he craved, but without understanding or appreciating the real work that is needed to get there.

And once again, over a meal, he has an angry father expressing violence. "Control your pop-pop!" he tells the boy who is around the same age as he was when he killed his father. But he doesn't fight back, he doesn't strike out at Pop-pop, and the son steps between them and pulls his dad back several times.

And it's this father-figure's words that ring in Ed's ears when he realises Stede may be in danger. "If you were ever good at anything, do that". And if there's one thing Ed Teach is good at, it's fighting for the people he loves.

In conclusion our Mr. Teach wants a safe and comfortable home-life, with food and warmth (and orgasms), but he has no real experience of what that is really like or how to get it. His entire life has been a succession of threats and danger and men who would do harm to people in their charge, especially when they were unarmed, defenceless and vulnerable.

He doesn't know how to be safe yet, because he's never experienced it. All he's known until this point is a life of violence and danger and while he tried to move away from that, the violence and danger was still there - as Stede put it, there's no escaping it in their line of work.

But now, at the end of S2, for the first time in his life, he is actually able to say "No, I need to be away from piracy" because his whole journey through both seasons has been him trying and trying to step away from the life that has him by the throat.

And now, he's finally been able to do it and he's not alone. He has someone he's safe with and who is willing to do the work with him to help him figure things out. And give him good food, warmth and, of course, orgasms.

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 6

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: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia (sometimes internalized and sometimes not), canon typical violence* Fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues. Flirting and talk of sex. We are starting to pine! Summary: Spending more time around Javi is as awkward as it is anything else, but spending some time with the girls has you approaching the situation a little differently after weeks of uncertainty. Notes: Introducing Elisa! Inner conflict, forced proximity, and a little soul searching are the name of the game.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5

Days tick by until it becomes weeks, and every apartment you look at is deemed either unsafe or unfit or otherwise unacceptable. The rent is too high or it doesn’t come furnished, or they don’t allow dogs. Señora Perrín had told you Chi-Chi couldn’t come to her son’s house because she generally hated men, and had said you should either keep her or bring her to a shelter.

It broke your heart that she could just give the precious guard dog up so easily and you’d been next to tears cuddling Chi-Chi on the living room floor when Javier came home from a stakeout. There was no discussion about it. Javier had just given the dog a half smile and said it was a damn good thing she liked him, because she was already settled.

On this particular morning you’re up before Javier which is incredible in and of itself. Sitting at the table with the local paper circling newspaper ads for apartments you haven’t already seen feels futile, but you have to keep trying.

Javi rolls his shoulders as he shuffles into the kitchen. He had been needing to start the coffee pot, but you’re already there, the pot full except for the cup at your elbow. “Morning.” He grunts, walking by the table and snatching up your already lit cigarette for a quick drag. You smoke the same ones he does and he’s never been shy about sharing a cigarette. “Fuck.” He groans, feeling the nicotine flooding his system. “Ran out last night.” He explains. You’re looking in the paper again and he almost asks why when it’s obvious you are settled here, but he doesn’t. You might want your own space and he doesn’t feel like it’s his place to press. You might share marks and have managed to be somewhat friendly to each other, but it hasn’t gone beyond that.

“Morning.” The ritual is usually the opposite, but he seems to adjust alright today. And today, like every other, you drag your eyes away from the sliver of tanned skin that shows at his waistline when he reaches up for a mug or to scratch the back of his neck like he does when he’s tired. “You wanna take the rest of my pack to work? I can pick more up from that corner store that stocks American while I’m apartment hunting.”

“I’ll stop on the way.” He shakes his head, pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking that first blessed sip, “Fuuuuuuuck.” He groans again in appreciation. “I don’t know how, but your coffee is always so good.”

“I refuse to give up my secret.” The pinch of cinnamon you add to the coffee grounds whenever you make a pot has turned out to be his unexpected favorite. It warms you deep in your chest with something you can’t name, but you always smile at the compliment. “There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want breakfast.” He rarely sticks around long enough in the mornings to eat anything freshly cooked, but at least he’s eating something.

“I don’t have time.” He admits. “Fucking overslept as it is.” He’s been pulling a lot of late nights, but he’s still been insisting on going in on time. Pablo getting fucking elected to office has lit a fire under his ass to prove the bastard is dirty.

It would be domestic — mothering, even — to suggest he take something with him so you swallow it off of the tip of your tongue. “Take my cigarettes, then,” you insist, putting the pack in his hand. Instead you offer something far less invasive. “Don’t waste the time stopping. I got my column in yesterday so I’m free as a bird to get more today.”

“Thanks.” He shoots you a grateful smile and nods as he takes another sip of the coffee before he checks his watch. “Shit.” He gulps down another mouthful and dumps the cup in the sink. “I’ll take care of that when I get home.” He’s noticed you’ve cleaned up when he’s too busy and he doesn’t want you to think you need to do that. “I’ve gotta go.”

“See you later.” Maybe tonight. Maybe not. Sometimes he runs into the apartment for something and then goes out again and you don’t see him until the next day. He doesn’t ever stop working, night and day.

He grabs his keys. “See you.” He manages before the phone in his pocket starts ringing. “Shit. Peña. Yeah, yeah I’m on my way.” He grunts as he closes the door and jogs down the hall towards the front of the building.

"Well girl..." Your eyes slide to the dog as she watches Javier leave, whining mournfully in her well-claimed spot on the living room rug. "Looks like it's just you and me again today. You wanna stretch out on my lap while I call landlords?"

******

The morning goes surprisingly well and there’s even time to meet Connie and one of her work friends for lunch at Steve’s insistence. “We could be working.” Javi grumbles as he lights up the last cigarette from the pack you had given him.

“It wouldn’t kill you to socialize once in a while,” Steve reminds him, nudging him toward whatever little place Connie and her friend had deemed appropriate for lunch.

“I socialize.” Javi snorts, even though he’s not once been to see the girls since you’ve unexpectedly moved in. It’s been limited to his hand in the shower every fucking night.

“When?” Steve grins, infinitely amused. “When you’re grumbling at paperwork in the office? When you’re sleeping? Are you even going to that brothel anymore? You don’t even leave the office at lunch like you used to.” He used to go to see the working girls on lunch break or after work. He knows it — they pretty much all unofficially know it. But not lately. He just doesn’t know what’s changed.

“Why are you so goddamn interested in where I stick my dick?” Javi cuts his eyes over at his partner before he yanks the door open and walks into the little restaurant. It’s annoying that Steve has clocked his habits and even more annoying that he’s noticed the change. He hasn’t told Steve about you. Neither you being his soulmate or living with him temporarily.

“Because you’re fuckin cranky when you don’t get any,” Steve mutters at his back, letting Peña bust past him into the place while he trails behind and snickers.

He rolls his eyes and pulls a chair out at a table. “You’re entirely too fucking cheerful.” He grumbles, wishing he had just told Steve he was working through lunch. He’s exhausted and honestly needs a day off.

“Just needed a little sunshine in my day,” the other man announces, beaming when he sees his own soulmate and wife walk through the door.

“Sunshine.” He huffs, crushing out a cigarette but immediately perking up when a very attractive brunette comes in behind Connie. Obviously an extra and Javi decides that a little flirting is exactly what he needs.

"Hey!" Connie Murphy comes breezing in with a smile on her face and a kiss for her husband. "Sorry I'm late, honey."

"Hey." Steve accepts the gesture of affection readily, taking both of her cheeks in his hands and pressing his lips to hers with a happy hum.

"Javier." When Connie stands up again at the table, she gestures to the brunette who came in in back of her. "This is my friend Elisa." To her friend, she explains: "Javier works with Steve."

Javi gets out of his chair and shakes her hand, enjoying how soft and warm it is. She's got a nice set of tits, and he's not feeling guilty about looking after he had that conversation with you. "Nice to meet you." He greets her and pulls out her chair for her as they both sit down.

"Are you another...janitor at the embassy? Like Steve?" Elisa asks, smirking slightly because that seems to be such a lame excuse.

"No, actually I'm CIA." Javi lies with a straight face. He glances at Steve. "But that's classified, so don't tell anybody."

The Murphys exchange expressions of raised eyebrows with each other and then with Javi, as if to tell him to cool it with the sarcasm. Somebody can and will overhear him and take him seriously.

Javi continues on. “I’m here to hunt communists and prevent the Marxist invasion from Cuba.” He’s lit another cigarette and holds it in his hand. “The janitor thing, that was you?” He asks Steve, who hums unhappily as Javi continues to talk. “No, that’s just a cover.” He tells her, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Elisa laughs, slightly unsure but willing to bet he's nearly telling the truth and that he's doing it in spite of the Murphys. She likes Connie, but the American woman is a little too earnest for her own good. "Thank you for being so honest," she says to Javier instead, and picks up on the overt honesty played like a lie tempo at the table. "Just so you know," she adds playfully. "I'm a communist guerrilla."

Javi laughs, along with Connie, and Steve gives a halfhearted smile. “Perfect.” Javi tells her with a wink.

"Yeah," Steve huffs, looking between the other two at the table before bringing his eyes back to his wife and nearly shrugging. It's obvious Elisa and Javi are on some kind of wavelength that he and Connie are not. "Perfect." He says the word but huffs it doubtfully.

Javi smirks at his partner, picking up on his mood but he doesn’t pay it any attention. “Tell me, how did you just start working at the clinic?” Javier asks Elise, as he looks over the menu. Catching sight of a meal that he thinks you would like since you like those falafel things and hating that he’s thinking about you right now.

"Everyone needs a job, don't they?" Elisa poses, acting like the answer doesn't quite matter when it truly doesn't. Not really anyway. Her work as a nurse is not the work she will be known for.

“That’s right.” Javi blows a ring of smoke up into the air and grins a Connie. He likes Murphy’s wife and it’s obvious that she’s the one that is the more outgoing of the two of them.

“So,” Connie poses, trying to brighten the mood at the table. “Lunch?”

“That sounds good.” Javi glances at the menu again and smirks at his partner. “Need some help?” He asks, knowing Steve’s reading comprehension of Spanish is worse than his speaking abilities.

“Shut up, Peña.” Steve mutters, grateful when Connie leans in to help him instead. His grasp of Spanish is growing, but at a snail’s pace.

Javi snickers quietly, feeling a little better after giving him some shit back after having to listen to Steve bring up soulmates every chance he gets. Thank god he hadn’t told him who his soulmate is, or that you are staying with him right now.

Connie ends up ordering for Steve despite his semi-valiant attempts at pronouncing the menu items, and the amusement at the table lifts the mood considerably. It’s not often any of them get to laugh anymore, and even a moment of it seems to relax everyone considerably.

“It’s good that you can meet us for lunch.” Javi tells them as they finish their sodas and wait for refills.

"I've got to see my soulmate sometimes," Connie teases lightly, leaning into Steve's side. "Dinners aren't a sure thing, so lunch seemed like the best time."

“And that means I get to eat.” Steve huffs, cutting his eyes back at Javi. His partner has a habit of living off coffee and cigarettes.

"Do you not eat?" Elisa asks Javier, curious that he seems to be getting the ire of his friends.

“Too busy working.” Javi shrugs one shoulder. “We grab something if there’s time.”

"Food is one of life's few pleasures." she returns, although she can think of quite a few other pleasures this man might be fun to indulge in with. "Pleasures are few and far between."

Javi takes another drag off his cigarette and grins at Elisa. “You’re right.” He admits.

"So why deny yourself?" She asks, nodding toward the direction their server is approaching from.

“Why indeed?” Javi thinks about you for a moment, before he pushes that out of his mind. You don’t want to do anything about your status so he shouldn’t worry about it.

"Yeah." Steve looks between the two of them with absolute incredulousness. "Why?" He really feels like he should be a reason but Javi won't say a goddamn word about his soulmate so he can't say too much.

Javi rolls his eyes and leans back as the server sets the meal down in front of you. “Hurry up.” He tells his partner. “We have to go meet Carillo after this.”

"Right." Steve snorts, ready to dig into his lunch right away. "No rest for the wicked."

“Never is.” Javi snorts and wishes he had a beer, or a glass of whiskey. When he left the apartment, you had still been asleep. He wonders what you are up to.

"Are you particularly wicked?" Elisa asks, partially for herself and partially because it amuses her to scandalize Connie with that type of question.

“Some might think so.” He admits, thinking about the question from an outsider’s point of view. “I’m flawed, but at the base of my life, I want to do good.”

That seems to surprise the other Americans at the table, but the Murphys choose not to tease – instead settling into their meal and deciding that a small amount of talk amongst themselves is more polite. Javier and Elisa seem to have slipped into a private conversation at the drop of a hat.

"Is that what you're doing?" She asks, picking up her fork and tilting her head toward the man beside her. Elisa didn't come here to flirt, but the man she has been introduced to is interesting and it won't be the worst thing in the world to chat him up for a half hour or more. "Doing good?"

“Some days it doesn’t seem that way.” Javi admits, eating his own food without really paying attention to it. “Not like health care.” More of what he does is unhealth care.

"Health care is...different than people expect it to be." Elisa tells him honestly. Not to mention that that is not the focus of her life. It was once, but not now. "Sometimes you wonder if you have done any good at all."

“I feel the same way.” He agrees, wondering if it’s that way everywhere, with any job. Maybe his pop was right and growing things was the answer all along.

"Maybe that's part of being human?" She wonders aloud, unconsciously echoing his thoughts.

“Who knew you could get philosophical over lunch?” Javi snorts, although he had actually excelled in philosophy in college.

She smiles, admittedly charmed, and she will have to confess later that Connie was right to warn her about her husband's partner. "I would have looked forward to this lunch even more if I had known."

He smirks slightly and glances over at the server as they refill his drink. Nodding his thanks before he looks back at her. “Well, now you can look forward to the next one.”

“I definitely will.” Elisa agrees, and the smile on her lips promises that she hopes to be looking forward to much more than that.

******

When a familiar car pulls up down the block, Freckles is the one that recognizes it. “Holy shit.” She huffs, turning towards the room where Helena and Vanessa are lounging. Helena hasn’t been taking clients, but she had been here to pack. Gathering all the things that she wanted and giving away the things she didn’t. “She’s here.”

“Who?” Helena asks, her attention to focused on carefully braiding Vanessa’s wet hair to achieve some natural waves after it dries. A new style she wanted to try.

She says your name, lifting a brow as she looks at the other two women. “I wonder if she’s just here for a follow up interview for an article.”

“Can’t be for us…” Helena’s head pops up immediately. She knows that you are their friend, but it would be a simple enough thing to see them outside of a professional setting if you just wanted to spend time with friends. “Can it?”

“I don’t know.” Vanessa frowns slightly. “She wasn’t happy with us knowing about her and Javier. She didn’t say it, but she wasn’t.”

“You think she came because she’s mad at us?” Freckles asks, frowning at the thought.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think she will yell at us, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The other woman shrugs. “Maybe she’s tired of Javi.” She snorts. “She does like eating pussy.”

“You think they’re fucking already?” Helena asks, frowning doubtfully. “They seemed…at odds with each other.”

“I didn’t mean they were fucking.” She corrects. “Just tired of him. Isn’t she staying with him since her apartment was raided?”

“Yeah.” Helena nods, shifting up from the couch to peak through the window. You’re just out of sight so you must be on your way in. “With the sweetest dog.”

“Javier has a dog in his apartment?” Freckles finds that hilarious and throws her head back laughing. “How domestic.”

“You know the guard dog?” Helena and Vanessa laugh along with her. They have, at various points now, all been to your apartment. “The sweet girl who sits at the top of the stairs? She is with them now.”

“But doesn’t she hate men?” Her eyes widen for a moment before she giggles again. “I can’t see Javi sneaking around his own apartment.”

“I can’t imagine he’s hiding from both of them.” Freckles shrugs. “Maybe that’s why she’s here. Like you said.”

"We will see." Helena knows that even if you are upset, you wouldn't take it out on them. You weren't that way, more of a defender than an abuser.

The knock on the door comes a moment later, but the door doesn’t open immediately. Unlike other clients, you have always been respectful of their privacy.

Freckles wanders over to the door and opens it, smiling brightly when she sees you and pulls you in for a hug. "It is good to see you!"

You came here with a purpose. You did. But seeing the three of them together — stunning women who know you far too well — seems to spook you out of your resolve. “H—hi,” you murmur instead, kissing her cheek and giving her a gentle squeeze back. Not too tight. Not too close.

"Come in." She offers immediately, stepping back and opening the door wider. "Unless you are here to just see one of us?" She asks curiously, wondering if it is simply the business of pleasure that brings you here.

“I wasn't sure who would be here.” It feels like more of a confession than you meant it to, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Okay.” Freckles glances over at the other two. “We can leave if you want to talk to Helena?” She offers.

"No–no, I..." You deflate a little, realizing that you're far less sure of this plan than you thought you were while driving here. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have come."

Vanessa frowns and shakes her head even though Helena is still working on it. “Don’t be silly.” She chides. “You are always welcomed here.”

"I don't want to intrude." Also, you somehow forgot about the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, which has your own reflection staring back at you in ways you would rather avoid.

“Why would you be intruding?” For a moment, Freckles wants to ask if you were checking to see if Javier is here, or has been here, but she doesn’t. You do seem upset, but not at them.

"I don't know." And that is all the more confusing, which brings you from flustered and embarrassed to emotional all at once. A single chin wobble feels like six with the hyperaware state you're in right now and you look around at three pairs of beautiful eyes that only make you feel all the more ridiculous. "I'm sorry, I...I'm not feeling well, I guess." You turn to go, ready to haul ass and hide yourself in Chi-Chi's fur and try to blot out the world, but Helena has gotten up to block the way in a flash.

“Stay.” She urges you, reaching out and taking your shoulders in her hands to physically turn you back towards the room. “Please.”

"I haven't...been myself lately," you admit, looking around at the three of them again.

“Because of what we told you?” Helena frowns, feeling guilty as she guides you over to the bed.

"Not...directly?" She has you sit down, and the other two girls come to sit on the bed with you, gathered around you as if you were all simply here to gossip instead of you having found yourself in the middle of an existential crisis. "It's a long story."

“If you don’t want to talk…” Vanessa senses that you are pent up and she puts her hand on your thigh. “We can always find other ways to entertain ourselves until you do want to talk.”

“I’m not going to make you do that anymore.” The realization, swift and certain, makes you swallow the lump you hadn’t sensed forming in your throat. Coming here may have been a very bad idea, actually… “I—I mean…I thought that’s what I wanted. And why I came. But I don’t think so anymore.”

Helena reaches out and touches your cheek gently. “Javier?” She asks softly, aware that you might be feeling guilty. “He hasn’t come to see us either. If that’s what you want to know.”

"It doesn't have anything to do with Javier." As soon as it's out of your mouth – defensive and swift – you flinch and shake your head. "It doesn't have to do with him being...what he is to me, I mean."

“Oh.” The girls exchange looks but don’t say anything. There’s obviously something wrong, but they won’t push you if you don’t want to talk. They just wait.

It all comes pouring out in the face of their solid sympathy. The fights you and Javier had in the beginning, everything Alex said. The way every passing week that you live with Javier has you convinced that the universe must have been wrong. That you have stopped being able to even glance past a mirror on any sort of daily basis for fear of what you will find staring back at you. "I thought I was just lonely," you admit, under the gaze of three sets of worried eyes. "I thought I just needed to find some company to feel better again. But I walked through your door and just felt like I would be demeaning any of you by asking you to take me to bed."

Helena frowns and Vanessa and Freckles shake their heads in disagreement. “Do you think that we just fuck you because you pay us?” Freckles asks, folding her arms over her chest. “Because we don’t. We enjoy our time with you. In and out of bed.”

"I'm not thinking straight right now." The wording is unfortunate, but at least it's honest. "I don't really trust my own perspective. So while I know, deeply, because you're my friends, that you've never lied to me about enjoying yourself. I just can't..." Searching for the words has you huffing and shaking your head all over again. "I can't believe it or understand it."

“Because of what that bitch said about you?” Vanessa looks mad enough to spit nails. The fight that had been instigated to defend your honor hadn’t made you feel better and the words that you had learned were said about you had cut deep.

"This is...let's call it a lifelong problem." Sitting back against the pillows on the bed, you just drop your face into your hands and sigh. "I'm sorry to have dumped all of this on the three of you. Really."

“After what you have done for us?” Helena rolls her eyes and grabs a pack of cigarettes to offer you one. “You’re crazy.”

"Probably." You admit, letting out a half-laugh and accepting a cigarette.

“He was wrong.” Freckles tells you. “There is nothing wrong with you.” She promises. “You are soft and gorgeous. Warm and sensuous.”

"It's hard to see any kind of truth through my own doubt." Inhaling fire and exhaling smoke is such a seemingly small ritual, but it centers you in a way that you need right now. Like maybe if you had had just sat down and had a cigarette or two or three, you might not have had to bare your soul to these three kind women. To your friends – you have to remember that point. These are your friends. "I don't know if there is any truth. Looks and attraction and all of that...it's all subjective anyway."

“It is subjective.” That all the women can agree on. “My first love, he was ugly by any standards.” Freckles snorts. “But I fucked his brains out every chance I got.”

“You loved him,” you point out, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “That makes all the difference.”

“And you don’t love Javier.” She murmurs, bewildered by the idea that you might not even be attracted to your soulmate. She reaches over and takes your hand. “Not all soulmates are sexual.” She reminds you. “Javi would never force you.”

“I barely know Javier.” It feels like an entirely lame defense, but it’s true. And besides which you’re not even sure why you feel the need to defend yourself at all. But you do.

“I thought you were staying at his apartment?” Vanessa looks surprised by the fact you haven’t gotten close to him.

“I am.” It’s been nearly impossible to find a place that will let you keep Chi-Chi that you can afford and is reasonably safe, and you have just ended up there indefinitely. “But it isn’t as though we sit around the kitchen cooking meals together and having some sort of domestic fantasy.”

“So you avoid each other?” Helena frowns, not liking that at all. Javier needs a connection with someone, he is dangerously close to burnout and making mistakes and the physicality has been removed, so the emotional was definitely needed. Unless he had found comfort somewhere else.

“Not actively. I mean I sit in the living room reading at night and sometimes he’s home. We both just work constantly.” Shrugging just feels even more pathetic now but you’re not sure what else to do. “We just…don’t talk a lot when the two of us are there.”

"You are both so alike it's almost scary." Vanessa sighs softly and shakes her head.

“Stubborn and frustrating?” You guess, huffing out a half-laugh.

"YES!" All three women laugh when they answer at the same time.

The suddenness of it startles a chuckle out of you, until all four of you are laughing in a heap on the bed together. “This is what I needed,” you sigh, breathing through another laugh as Freckles hugs you to her side. “To see my friends.”

“Why don’t you fuck Javi?” She suggests playfully. “He will have you feeling good.”

“I walked in here so insecure I couldn’t even kiss any of you.” You remind them gently. “I don’t know that I’m in a place to be fucking anyone.”

"What has made you so insecure?" Helena demands, hating that you would feel that way. "Explain it to me."

You all but huff at her, feeling your shoulders round all over again. “Is being called a whale not enough?”

She frowns, reaching out and lifting your chin. "You – the woman who fought to come to Colombia, who was angry that your bosses would not let you go undercover in a brothel – let a tiny dicked man who never made you cum think badly about yourself?" She asks furiously, although her tone is softly censuring. "When your soulmate was so enraged on your behalf that he started a fight for your honor?"

The other girls murmur their agreement, but you feel all the more sheepish at having it put like that. “You make it sound very romantic.”

“It kind of is romantic.” She grins. “Especially knowing that Javier looks very sexy when he’s angry.”

"If you like him when he's angry, you'd probably be amused as hell at how we fight." It's been a week or so since the last time you argued, but the fights are fewer and farther between now, as well as shorter. Last time it had been as stupid and domestic as you getting annoyed about the schedule you worked out for feeding the dog.

“What could you possibly fight about when you barely talk?” Vanessa asks.

"Stupid things."

"You fight because you don't talk." Helena points out. And knowing you both as well as she does, she has it right on the money.

“Why don’t you do something together?” Freckles suggests. “Watch a movie?”

It's such a small, simple thing. A movie. Not a date, not a spectacle. Just a stupid, normal little movie on tv while you sit on the couch. It's...oddly appealing, actually. But you're still unsure. "Does he ever sit still long enough for something like that?"

“I’m sure you could convince him to.” Helena smirks, although she’s convinced Javier is only still when he’s asleep, or on a stakeout.

"You're all so very certain that I could get him to do anything I wanted." It's frustrating in a completely different way. Because you simply can't see how or why they believe it.

“Javi wants a connection with someone.” Vanessa hums. “Even if he won’t admit it. Even if he fights it.”

"Something else I guess we have in common, then." They know you too well for you to pretend otherwise. They know your tendency to run. To hide. To push away emotional connections. Even Alex had been kept at arm's length, but had managed to crack away at that deep desire for affection enough to hurt you with it. The bastard.

“We told you that you are the exact same.” Freckles rolls her eyes and leans in to press her lips to yours playfully with a smack.

"Apparently so." The gesture is received with gratitude, even if your heart feels a little heavier as you start to really believe what your friends have been telling you. "I'm not sure there is anything to do about it, though."

“Why?” Helena asks, wondering what could be so monumental to keep soulmates from being together.

"We sort of talked about it. The first night I stayed with him. When my building was raided." And the number of times you have gone back over it in your head since then is positively shameful. "He pretty much said he's not interested in being together. So it's all...moot. I guess."

“This was after your argument over me?” Helena asks, tsking when you nod. “The first strike.” She whispers to the other girls and they groan and nod in agreement.

"What do you mean 'strike'?" You ask, frowning.

“He rejected you before you could reject him.” She sighs. “Stupid bastard.”

"Alright, well..." Somehow that hurts far worse than you could have predicted, and you lean back in the pillows with a frown, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's still a rejection."

Vanessa huffs and throws up her hands. “Both of you, stubborn!” She hisses. “You would have done the same and you know it. You are two sides to the same mirror.”

"So what am I supposed to do about it, then?" You hiss back, feeling stung and stuck and just a tad insulted to boot. "Beg him to reconsider? Seduce him? Plead with my soulmate to give me another chance? Fuck that."

“One of you will have to bend.” Helena sighs. “It will just be a matter of who.”

"Now you see why I'm so frustrated." So frustrated that you could not see the light for all the dark around you. But your friends have helped that more than you expected.

“I am surprised Javi let you live with him.” Freckles admits. “He has never lived with anyone.”

"He feels guilty." At least that's what you assumed. It probably doesn't do any good to assume, but that is what you've done. "Because it was his team that raided my building."

“And he could have found you a place to live inside of an hour.” Vanessa snorts.

"I've been looking for weeks," you remind her, sheepish and embarrassed that it has taken you so long.

“Javier has been here for years.” She reminds you. “How do you think he got such an amazing apartment?”

"I can't figure out if you're implying that he's letting me look fruitlessly or that he's actively sabotaging my attempts to find somewhere else to live." Either one is deeply confusing and has complicated connotations, and you're not entirely sure what to do about it.

“That’s something you will have to ask him about.” All three women shrug and give you unsure looks.

“Full, meaningful conversation, huh?” You sigh, knowing they’re right. “That’s probably the respectful thing to do.”

“You do what you need to do.” Freckles tells you. “Only you and Javier can determine what happens. Not anyone else.”

“I’d much rather have it just all work itself out for us,” you admit, though the complaint is half-hearted. Having something handed to you means it’s never quite as satisfactory or as lasting.

Helena snorts and leans against you playfully. “You can do that.” She admits. “It will be an interesting journey.”

******

You’re still trying to figure out what the hell kind of journey could possibly be ahead of you when Javier comes home that night. It’s earlier than usual but still not what any normal person would call early. Thankfully you’re both night owls, so you’re in the process of making some dinner when the door opens. Having managed to track down an Italian market in an immigrant community in Bogotá during your first weeks there, you continue to make the pilgrimage whenever you need to stock up on ingredients.

Tonight you wanted comfort food — chunks of beef slowly stewed with onions, garlic, mushrooms, and carrots in tomatoes and red wine. The whole thing will be ladled over creamy, cheesy polenta and you can’t wait. These recipes your father taught you still mean everything to you as a grown woman.

He smells the food from the hallway. Different than the normal scents of cooking from other apartments and yet it is just as mouthwatering. He comes into the door and groans quietly. “I’m back.” He calls out politely.

“You’re home early.” It’s just an observation, but it feels so incredibly domestic in your current setting. “I got a little nostalgic and made a ton of food. Do you like Italian?”

“Love it.” Javi admits. “We had this little place in Laredo that did the little tea candles on the table. Best damn lasagna I’ve ever had.”

“Lasagna is one of my ultimate comfort meals.” And it sticks somewhere in your head that you’ll have to make it for him sometime. Cooking is soothing for you, after all. And an excellent way to say thank you for letting me live in your apartment and refusing to take my rent money every time I offer. “This is my dad’s version of Italian beef stew with polenta.”

He makes an impressed face and nods. “Sounds good. Do I have time for a shower?” He asks, feeling sticky and wanting to wash away the filth of the day.

"Yeah, absolutely." It's suddenly become a whole to-do, this comfort dinner of yours, but you nod. Somehow it's so much easier to see how handsome he is tonight. Like talking with the girls today had softened some of the sharp edges you had imagined before. "We could...turn on a movie while we eat? If you want to?"

He looks over at you in surprise, but your back is to him, stirring the pot at the stove furiously. Either the stew is temperamental or you are avoiding looking at him. “That sounds good.” He admits. “Cabinet under the tv has some tapes.” He tells you. “A few movies my pop sent me.”

"Okay." Stirring the polenta is just a way to distract yourself so he doesn't catch you staring at him, but that's alright. It needs to be stirred anyway. "I'll pick something out and set it up."

“Okay, uh, I’ll just jump in the shower then.” He mumbles, feeling slightly out of sorts now that you’ve agreed to this. It feels intimate, domestic, like an evening at home between soulmates would be.

"Okay." Repeating the word feels awkward, but you try to dismiss the feeling as nerves or tension. Everything is totally fine. It's just a meal. You've eaten together plenty of times before.

Heading back to his room, his movements are completely in autopilot. Unclipping his badge and gun from his hip, setting them down in his dresser and emptying his pockets. Memories of his parents sitting on the old flowered sofa in their living room watching a movie or tv show when he was younger springs to mind. Peeking around the corner from the kitchen and listening to his mother giggle quietly and seeing them kiss before he scurried back to his room.

By the time he comes back out again, you have dinner set up in bowls, two glasses of wine poured from what was left in the bottle, and his well-loved copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark in the VCR. "Bad day?" You ask, trying to be as casual and normal as possible when you catch the moody expression on his face. You probably haven't hit it at all, but you're trying.

��Every day I don’t catch that bastard is a bad day.” Javi snorts and shakes his head. “It’s frustrating. Feeling like we are just spinning our wheels again.”

"I refuse to believe you got nothing done today." He's too clever and too dedicated for that, but you won't belabor the point. "Anyway, it's late and there's not much you can do for the rest of tonight. But dinner is hot and there's booze."

That sounds fucking amazing and Javi groans in appreciation. “You didn’t have to do all this.” He reminds you, gesturing to the meal set out on the coffee table.

"I thought it would be nice." Technically speaking, you didn't make this meal for him. It is a comfort for you with the added side benefit of there being plenty to share with him. But there is something in his voice that stops you from saying so.

Javi sits down and then second guesses himself. “Do you want to sit here?” He asks, getting back up.

"Sit wherever you want." He's nervous and you're trying not to let it put you on edge too. This was just a spur of the moment idea that seemed like a nice way to spend the night. "It is your couch."

He snorts and shrugs. “I don’t care where I sit, but you might have claimed a certain corner as your own.” He jokes.

"Normally that's just whatever corner Chi-Chi has left for me when she sprawls out over the entire couch." You joke. He had let her up on his furniture on day two of having the two of you in his place and she never looked back.

“I feel like she would take up all the space if you gave her half a chance. Even a king-sized bed.” He rolls his eyes and looks over at the dog that is currently sprawled over the floor.

"Oh, believe me." With your bowls and wine sitting on the coffee table, you come closer and sit down in the corner of the couch that he isn't occupying. "Half the time when I crawl into bed at night, she's sprawled out over the entire mattress. So I have no trouble imagining she would take up a king if she can dominate my full size."

Javi frowns. “Then we should get you a bigger bed.” He hadn’t really thought much about the size of the bed in the guest room. It was just there for someone to sleep if needed and until Helena and you, it had never been used.

"You don't..." You had been reaching for your wine glass when he said it and you almost knock it over by accident. "You don't have to do that. I mean...it's your apartment. I'm just staying here through the seemingly interminable search for an apartment. I really can't figure out why it's so damn hard to find a place this time around."

Javi hums and doesn’t comment on that. Instead, he reaches for his own wine glass. “You’ll find one eventually.” He finally says.

"Eventually." The girls' words float through your mind again, and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye as you pick up your glass more securely. "You know...you've been here longer than me. I'm surprised you don't know anyone looking for a tenant."

His eyes slide he to you and then back to the tv where the beginning of the movie is finally starting after the commercials. “I’ve been keeping an ear out for something that would be good for you.” He tells you vaguely.

"Yeah?" Deciding to play the cards you have, you take a sip of your wine and then set the glass down to pick up your bowl. Dinner smells amazing and it's finally going to be cool enough to eat without burning yourself. "The girls seem to think you wouldn't have had any trouble. And that you might not mind having me around."

Javi nearly drops his spoon, hissing a curse and bobbles it for a second before catching it. “Yeah?” He turns to purse his lips at you grumpily. “The girls don’t know everything, do they?”

"Hey," you shrug, playing it off like you aren't fishing for information but giving something up instead. "I thought it was kind of nice that they thought that. Like we might actually be getting used to each other."

He relaxed slightly and turns back to towards the tv and his stew. “You don’t annoy me as much as you first did.” He snorts. “And you cook.”

"So it's purely functional." It's just light teasing, because you're not really questioning him or calling him out. It's just...nice to hear the good humor in his voice. "Maybe...you would let me pay rent in groceries and cooking? Instead of cash?"

“You don’t have to pay rent.” He huffs out, rolling his eyes as you bring up the idea yet again. “I would have to rent this place even if you didn’t sleep in that room.” He points out again. “And the electricity and water are included. It costs me nothing.”

Your hand, spoon and all, stop halfway to your mouth. "You...don't pay rent? Like at all?"

That wasn’t what he said, but he shrugs. “Technically? No.” He admits. “DEA pays for it. And it’s under the set amount they give us. So I make money every month.”

"Well shit..." The fact that you misunderstood him at first doesn't change the meaning of the thing. His housing stipend more than covers the cost of the space you have both been living in. You almost sputter around the fact, but end up biting your lip and shrugging exaggeratedly. "Fine. I'll just cook because I like to and because we both need to eat." Looking over at him though, your head tilts unconsciously. "But...maybe it would be okay if I stop looking for a different place?"

Even though he’s honestly relieved that you are voicing that, Javi jolts one shoulder up in the air casually, as if it doesn’t matter to him. “Up to you.” He grunts as he spoons up a first bite of the stew and polenta. “If you’re comfortable here.”

“Chi-Chi is.” You nod toward the enormous sprawl of an animal nearby. She’s found a corner of rug and isn’t giving it up for anything. “I guess that settles it.” As if the dog’s comfort and happiness were the only factor, you simply start eating, turning your attention to the screen with a smile curling your lips.

It’s probably the first thing that you’ve not argued with him about and he grunts, wondering if it’s because you feel safer here, or if the fact that he had spread word that the American woman looking for an apartment was important to the DEA had scared people off. He doesn’t regret it at all. Eventually someone would know about your connection to him, and he didn’t want that used and you to be harmed.

It’s several minutes later when you laugh to yourself during the movie that you realize how simultaneously comfortable and tense you are here these days. And that the tension isn’t the walking on eggshells kind of tension you’ve had with other people in the past. But something almost eager. Like it’s on the verge of actually being pleasurable. But that might just be the soulmate bond talking. Either way, you go on eating and smiling to yourself, wondering if he feels it too or if you’re just too convinced by what the girls had to say today.

Hearing you snort in amusement; Javi looks over at you to find you grinning. “Have a think for this guy?” He asks with a smirk, nodding towards the tv. Most of the office girls in the typing pool swoon over Harrison Ford.

“Who doesn’t?” You counter, unashamed to admit to it. “Just like every other woman my age, right? Every guy I know is in love with Michelle Pfeiffer. It’s the same deal.”

He chuckles and shrugs. “She’s alright.” He answers. “I don’t really fantasize about women who wouldn’t even know my name.” He admits. “I like the ones I’ve got a chance with.”

“Fantasizing is an integral part of my day to day,” you tell him, glancing away from the screen to see if he’s looking at you. You can’t tell if you’re hoping for it or not, but you’re curious.

He watches you turn your head and look into his eyes. His curiosity getting the best of him. “And what do you fantasize about?” His voice is suddenly raspier, dropping into a lower, more intimate pitch.

“I—” You hadn’t meant it like that. In fact you’d barely thought about what you were saying when you said it. But now that he’s asked? The coil in your guts tightens and you swallow thickly. “Lots of things.” The truth sparks from you like wildfire. “W—waking up wrapped in someone…those little touches that are electric with someone new…the whole, uh…the whole…work surprise thing…”

“Work surprise?” He frowns slightly. “Like fucking in the broom closet?” He asks, trying to understand you a bit better even if this is more than he ever thought he would know. You aren’t interested in him, but he’s curious.

“Not what I was thinking.” You laugh, though, trying not to pay attention to the way your skin tingles in response to the idea of him dragging you into a closet for anything remotely sexual. “I was thinking more like…the romance of a surprise. My mom used to make excuses to go surprise my dad at work every single week. Just because she knew how hard he worked, and she wanted there to always be something to look forward to on the hardest days.”

“Your mom would go to your dad’s work to fuck him?” He remembers that your dad was a chef and he chuckles. “I heard some kinky shit happens in a kitchen.”

“I mean…” The realization is striking, that that probably is exactly what was happening, and you sputter for a few seconds out of sheer surprise. “She always told us she was just going to spend his breaks with him, but…probably.”

He laughs quietly, watching the realization rush over your face. “It’s always weird to think about your parents fucking.” He reaches over and pats your thigh. “It’s okay.”

“She just always made it sound very romantic,” you admit, dissolving into laughter.

“Fucking can be romantic.” He chuckles. “And romance can be a passionate quickie.” He snorts, “My parents probably used the hay loft more than I did.”

“See, stripping down in a hayloft to roll around on a blanket does sound romantic.” Or maybe you just have a little bit of a cowboy kink. Who knows? “A restaurant stock room? Not so much.”

He smirks as he shrugs. “Depends on what gets you going.” He argues playfully. “Maybe mayonnaise did it for them.”

“Gross.” But you’re still laughing, the movie forgotten in the background and your dinner sitting in your lap. “I can readily say mayonnaise does not get me going.”

He chuckles as he spoons up another bite of the meal. He almost tells you that he will note that, but you might not want him to do that. “Oh I love this part.” He snorts as he catches sight of the movie again.

Indy’s exploits suddenly seem less interesting to you, but you watch the movie and continue to eat with an undeniable warmth building in your chest.

The problem is that Javi wants to keep talking to you, but he also doesn’t want you to think that all he wants to talk to you about is sex. It’s frankly surprising to a man who enjoys sex and women as much as he does, but sex with you seems to be about as obtainable as climbing Mt. Everest.

“I always wanted to be Marion Ravenwood when I was a teenager…” It comes out as just a little murmur, but it’s true. Marion had been one of your favorite role models. “Her or Lois Lane.”

“She was always way too good for Indy.” Javi points at the screen with his spoon as he reaches for his wine with the other hand. “But I’m sure Lois speaks to you more because of that journalism connection.”

“She’s the one I went with in the end, I guess.” The comment that Marion is too good for Indy makes you glance over at him again and consider. He has that whole dashing-and-daring thing that Indy does —would he think a Marion was too good for him too?

“You’ve got a little bit of Marion in there too.” Javi tells you as he sits back with his wine and takes another sip. It’s pretty damn good with the meal. “Digging for a story down here is kind of like digging for the fucking Arc.” He huffs, halfway grinning.

“I’ve got Marion from plenty of things.” You shrug your shoulders. “Stubborn, persistent, cocky at the wrong times and wildly insecure at others. Plus the drinking.”

“Insecure?” He frowns. “Why? You’re a ball buster. You shouldn’t have an insecure bone in your body.”

“Seriously?” You almost slip and call him Javi, even though you’ve never called him anything but Javier in the whole time you’ve known him. The girls all call him Javi and it feels so intimate. “It’s a total front.”

"It's a good one." He admits. "When you want to exude confidence, you do." He hums to himself as he picks up his bowl again. "You'd make a hell of an actress if it's a front."

“I grew up with older brothers,” you remind him. “You learn to at least pretend to have a spine, or you end up trampled. In my case, I was then stupid enough to go into journalism. So it’s just more men everywhere, and these ones all want me to fail miserably.” Shrugging again, you put down your empty bowl and reach for your wine glass. “Maybe some of it stuck, I don’t know.”

"I don't fucking understand that." Javi shakes his head. "Yeah, there are certain jobs I don't like seeing a woman in. Ones where they are in danger, but that's my own bullshit and I would never want someone to fail."

“Then you were raised with a hell of a lot more respect than any of my colleagues.” There’s nothing really to do about it but keep your head down and keep fighting, so you just wave one hand as if it doesn’t matter. “Which is a comfort, by the way.”

"You don't watch a woman run a ranch, which is fucking hard work, while her husband is in the hospital and not realize that there isn't a whole hell of a lot women can't do." Javi might be old fashioned in some sense, but he had also been raised by a tough woman.

“Cheers to your mother, then.” You raise your glass to that without hesitation. “She sounds like she was a bad ass.”

"She was." He chuckles and lifts his drink in a toast to her. "Just like I'm sure your father was a hell of a man."

“Wherever they are, I’m sure they’re watching us and laughing together.” Tapping your glass against his, the clink rings out, and you share that drink to your parents with pride.

He shakes his head, knowing that his mama is laughing for certain. “She always warned me I would find someone who wouldn’t put up with me just because I was charming.”

“She wanted somebody who saw you for you.” That’s an admirable thing for a parent. For anyone to want for their loved one. “My Dad always said I’d find someone who wouldn’t put up with me talking shit about myself.” He actually said that your soulmate would be that person, but you won’t put that on Javier.

“You shouldn’t talk shit about yourself.” Javi agrees with that. “You have the power in any situation romantically.”

"Absolutely not." The very idea of it earns him a snort from you, and you practically drain your glass to keep from laughing out loud. "That is so far from the truth."

“Why do you think that’s not true?” He asks, curious to hear this answer.

"Because," you reason, finding that last sip of wine and putting your glass back down on the coffee table. "If I had any kind of upper hand, I wouldn't have spent most of my romantic life, I wouldn't have had to settle for weasels that I basically had to beg for attention."

“You have a pussy.” Javi reminds you. “And a nice set of tits and ass.” He rolls his eyes. “If you put your mind to it, you could have all those weasels begging you for attention.”

"That's...not really how it works for girls like me." At least, not in your experience. Or the experience of most other women your size that you've known throughout your life. It makes you lips turn down in a frown and you shift slightly in your place on the couch.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Javi frowns when he sees you pull in on yourself and turns back to his bowl. “I’m sorry.”

"No." Breathing out, you shake your head again and wipe your hands on your jeans. "No, my shitty self-esteem is not your responsibility. Sorry. Please don't let it ruin tonight."

“It’s not ruining the night.” Javi promises you. “I just didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

"You aren't." You assure him quickly. "I just...I guess I wish it was true. That it was just that easy."

“Just don’t let anyone give you shit.” He tells you. “You are a good girl.”

"Careful." Before you can stop yourself, the joking ball buster comes out of you all over again. "I might like being praised a little more than other girls."

He stares at you a moment before he snorts and shakes his head. “That’s the kind of attitude you should have.”

"Shameless vampy flirt?" You ask, with one eyebrow raised.

“Vampy?” He lifts a brow of his own in challenge.

Competitive. Your teachers and your brothers and your parents and everyone else in your childhood had always called you competitive. Not in the athletic sort of way. But in the way where you could never back down from a challenge. Almost instantly you're tossing the collar of your sweatshirt off your shoulder and batting your eyelashes, shaping your lips into a pout. "Is that what does it for you? Vampy?"

His cock twitches violently and if you weren’t who you are, he would be on you in a second. Taking you up on the invitation in that look. But you aren’t looking for him to jump you. “Maybe.” He manages, trying to not let it seem like it’s taking everything he had in him to act normal.

Something changes. Something in his eyes flashes. He tenses. Something in the moment reacts so assuredly that your heart speeds up and you unconsciously lick your lips, tongue darting out to wet them like some sort of silent and unintentional test to see if he's watching you as carefully and with as devoted focus as you're watching him. If you – when did you get to this place and why didn't you notice before? – actually want to kiss him as badly as you think you do in this moment.

Javi practically dumps the bowl onto the coffee table as he stands up. You licking your lips bothering him so much he has to move. “Gotta pee.” He explains. “Keep watching the movie.”

"I—uh—" He seems to panic and it deflates you instantly, to the point where all you can do is sputter and shrink back in your seat, shoving your stupid sweater back up on your stupid shoulder. "Right. Okay."

Javi does have to pee, but it takes a moment to get the half chub he has going on to go down. “She’s fucking teasing you.” He reminds himself. “Don’t fucking touch her. Just don’t.”

He was just fucking tease you. You reprimand yourself over and over, trying to get yourself under control before he comes back. Before you give yourself away. Before you have to admit to anyone but yourself that you actually had been hoping that he would take you up on the offer. Calm the fuck down!

After a few minutes, Javi slowly walks back down the hall. “Want a beer?” He asks, hovering between the kitchen and the living room. “Water?”

"Water is fine." More alcohol is probably a bad idea. You don't want to get tipsy and do something that will make things awkward again. "Thank you."

“Welcome.” He gets two glasses of water, figuring he better lay off the booze himself. He’s changed the mood and he doesn’t know how to go back to that somewhat easy vibe but he knows more alcohol won’t help.

With a little less than half the movie left, he brings back two glasses of water and you thank him for your again as he settles back down on the couch. Chi-Chi had barely stirred while he was gone but now she shifts, getting up from her corner of rug to move over four feet and flop down in front of the sofa as if she means to tell you that neither of you is allowed to get up again.

Javi snorts to himself and tries to watch the movie again, spreading his arm across the back of the couch towards you. Legs splayed a little to be comfortable and he takes a sip of his water, “Want a cigarette?”

"Sure. Thanks." You've gotten into the habit of sharing packs while you're in the apartment together so this, at least, is relatively normal. Or at least as normal as the two of you are bound to get.

Sharing a cigarette is normal. He reaches for the pack and puts one in his mouth and flicks the lighter. Taking a drag off the smoke before handing it to you.

It's such a little motion, and so practical, but after that moment of flirtation where you could have sworn you saw attraction in his eyes, it feels so intimate to smoke from a cigarette that was just held by his lips. Like if you try hard enough you could taste him instead.

Shit. You really have to stop thinking like this...

Javi leans back and sighs softly. “Needed that.” He admits. “Need to fucking quit, but I’m already cutting back on other things.”

“I keep thinking I should quit,” you admit, but take another drag when he passes it back to you. “But I never do.”

“Stress.” Javi snorts. “Addiction. Habit. Who knows?” He looks at it seriously and then takes another drag. “Smoking a cigarette is more satisfying than chewing some fucking gum.”

“I honestly don’t even like gum that much.” It’s stupid, that little insignificant piece of trivia about yourself, but you feel like you’ve made some tiny bit of headway tonight. At the very least, if you’re going to be roommates for a while, sharing things seems easier than expecting him to read your mind.

“It’s okay.” He doesn’t mind it, but the burn of the nicotine in his chest is what he really wants. “But it doesn’t beat this.” He hands the cigarette back to you, noticing the filter is stained with the last bits of wine from one of your lips, resembling lipstick.

You both silently realize it about the same time, and the smile tugging at your lips grows ever so slightly in silent response. Acts of connection, no matter how small, are making you happy tonight.

“Got another carton in the car.” Javi tells you. “I’ll bring them in before I leave in the morning.”

“Thank you. It’s so much easier than high-tailing it across the city to that American market near my old place.” You’re learning his neighborhood— your neighborhood— little by little. It will be good to put it more of an effort now. Since you’re officially staying put.

“Yeah.” Javi frowns slightly. “Be careful if you go back over on that side of town.” He tells you. “Escobar wasn’t happy about his sicarios.”

“Shit…” You wipe one hand down your face and sigh. “Inez found a new place in that same neighborhood. I’ll have to tell her to watch out.”

“Yeah.” He knows you still talk to the bartender from the club you lived under. She was also your neighbor. “Let her know.”

“Thanks, Javi.” It slips this time, just a nickname. Just a small act of intimacy. But it slips without you even realizing it.

He hears the softness of his nickname on your tongue. Making him want to reach out. To pull you closer to him, but he doesn’t. You two are in this awkward, yet comforting place and he doesn’t want to rock the boat. “You’re welcome.”

______

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[whateverthedragonswant]

Rewatching 8x05 for writing reasons, which is just a brilliant episode, despite any reasons some might have to hate it, valid or invalid. Miguel Sapochnik is directing and you see his talent and epicness in every shot (that man deserves a freaking Emmy already, I said what I said) but also there are so many things being shown here that if you muted the episode after Daenerys makes her decision, during the battle scene, you would be able to tell exactly what each character is thinking and what's really going on in the story besides the surface action.

Which brings me to that one scene that a lot of people said the woman being attacked as a stand-in for Sansa in the episode for Jon. They are correct and here's how.

Jon is walking through the melee, only coming to life to defend himself when Lannister soldiers are trying to attack him. The Northerners aren't listening to him, they're attacking innocent civilians, Grey Worm is on a killing spree, Davos is trying to help people get away from the bloodshed, Dany is burning the city, Tyrion is off somewhere horrified, Cersei is watching in terror from the Red Keep... But during this scene, the sound is muted to a point where the sounds of battle happening all around Jon sound very far away. We're now seeing what Jon sees, we're in his shock fugue with him. We see on his left civilians, namely women, being brutalized by soldiers -> he keeps walking. We on his right a woman being knocked down to the ground while a child is watching in horror, blood spatter and bodies all around her (and obviously traumatized & also in danger herself since no one is left to protect her) -> he keeps walking. He then sees a Lanniser soldier telling people to run, something his soldiers should be doing (and something he himself should be doing like Davos) but he's not. While the sounds are still muted, Jon notices another Lannister soldier about to rush him and he goes into autopilot & fights the soldier off. He then looks around in horror.

This is not what he signed up for and he almost looks lost, like he doesn't know what to do. Then the sound comes back fully and he hears a scream. In all of the melee, chaos, and death around him, he hears this one woman above the rest and turns to see her being dragged into an alley to presumably be assaulted by one of his own men.

Sure enough, she's about to be and she is trying to crawl away when the man catches her again. Jon ends up saving her, threatening to run his sword through the man. When the latter tries to fight him off to go back to assault this woman, Jon kills him and tells the woman to hide.

So how is this woman standing in for Sansa besides the obvious?

Two ways.

1) Ramsay was the former Warden of the North, the former bastard of Roose Bolton who was a Northerner who "served" Robb Stark, the first King in the North, before betraying him to the Lannisters. The soldier Jon faces off with is a Northerner and is supposed to be under Jon's command as Warden of the North and the former second King in the North.

2) Sansa is who stirs Jon into action when he feels lost.

Every.

Time.

And the parallels between the gif above with Dany and the dagger to the Northern soldier that had Jon's sword run through him, and Jon's staring almost sadly at the man, realizing he had to kill one of his own are far from being coincidental.

Not only was this a precursor to what would occur in 8x06 (and why Jon would make the decision he did) but it also is symbolic of the dynamic between Jon and Sansa as a whole. She's the one who stirs him into action, no matter how terrified or traumatized or angry he might be in that moment (like the shock fugue). No matter how lost he might feel. She gives him direction and dare I say a purpose when he has none (after his death; after the WW are defeated & Dany has gone into tyrant mode).

No wonder we weren't allowed to see Sansa's (or Arya's) reaction to the news of his being a Targaryen.

No wonder Jon told Melisandre not to bring him back if he lost the Battle of the Bastards (after Sansa told him if he lost, she wouldn't be going back to Ramsay alive).

No wonder Jon was not happy with Sansa on the dock in 8x06.

She's always stirred him into action when he doesn't want to be or know how to do it himself (after his death).

He passed a woman he could have saved.

He passed a child he could have helped.

He saw someone on the other side helping and doing the right thing.

The only time he steps in to help someone else is the woman about to be assaulted.

(x) "You are the shield that guards the realms of men. You've always tried to do the right thing. No matter the cost. You've tried to protect people. Who's the greatest threat to the people now?" (no reaction)

"Do you think I'm the last man she'll execute? Who is more dangerous than the rightful heir to the Iron Throne?" (no reaction)

"And your sisters? Do you see them bending the knee?" (a little bit of a reaction)

"Why do you think Sansa told me the truth about you? Because she doesn't want Dany to be queen." (more of a reaction)

"No, but you do. And you have to choose now." (he hesitatingly goes to confront Dany and then 🗡️)

It's not just about her being his "sister" or because she's Lady Stark or family or because they were the last two Starks once upon a time. She literally stirs him into action and gives him purpose. Her pushing to go back to Winterfell led to him caring about the WW invasion again. Her being the one he chooses to protect ended a tyrant and changed history, leading for her to become the first Queen in the North and regain Northern Independence, where she can be forever safe.

It was always Sansa for him, starting in 6x04.

[privatebooth]

The epic battle with the Arishok!

Didn't think I could pull it off, but what do you know!

The world will never know just how much of... everything was put into this :')

Anyway, the duel. Sometimes you just need someone to cheer for you, so Hawke gets his little cheerleading squad! I usually take these guys with me here. Obviously, they couldn't really do much, but at least Hawke had their emotional support.

Fenris remained calm because of course he would. He must have a lot of faith in Hawke to put him forward to fight the effing Arishok! (I use the mod that makes it so he always arranges the duel - even if Isabela comes back. So happy it exists! Without it I only managed to hear this dialogue once - on my very first PT when Isabela left me for real. Got a lot less fun without her, but damn did it make this fight incomparably more epic! That one time we really fought for the entire city, and not just one friend.) Of course Fenris worries, he just really believes in Hawke this much)

Aveline had to accept her helplessness and also trust and rely on Hawke. Bear with it, girl!

Isabela was not thrilled about someone fighting for her, so she's very displeased and not hiding it.

Varric is the most openly worried one here because he's a sweetheart and gives his all to root for his buddy <3

And then Hawke gets stabbed and held up on a blade like a piece of meat and everyone looses their shit, because why the heck wouldn't they?!

With how the Arishok ran his sword through him I'm still not sure how Hawke survived at all. Isabela freaks out because it's all her fault.

Must have been very painful for all of them to stay put while Hawke took a brutal beating, and I'm sure they were all itching to rush to his aid. But no.

Thankfully, Hawke somehow managed to get up and patched himself up. Yay! The city is saved!

I'm a tiny bit bummed that the base difficulty of this fight was significantly lowered down by patches. The first time I played it... It all happened so suddenly I was not prepared at all! Didn't have nearly enough potions, was slow to notice that my foe was immune to fire, and kept wasting mana on useless spells... Running in circles to recharge... and to not die because I did run out of potions at some point. And I really didn't want to replay the game...

Oh, but we couldn't die there: the entire city was at stake!

Just... What an experience! Nothing could possibly compare to it EVER.

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