#and its tiring to try to decipher what the words are supposed to be when all you want to do is enjoy stuff?

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

Here's the next installment! Hope you all enjoy 😊

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

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

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 24,000+

Summary: After a shocking occurrence, everything between you and Javi comes to a head that foists your relationship into a defining moment. Will the truth cause a rift, or strengthen the bond between you?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including oral (m + f receiving) and unprotected sex. Mentions of raunchy sexual acts, angst, longing, stress, and fertility worries. Descriptions of power play, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to jealousy, animosity, foreboding threats, and emotional distress. Some Worried!Javi, Protective! Javi, Upset!Reader. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

When you finally make it home to Javier later that evening, it's with another handful of groceries you purchased from the colmadito just outside of the gated neighborhood, and a head full of thoughts running rampant with worries that had no suspected foes.

The call kept looping like a record in the proverbial player of your mind, but every time it tried to source a possible explanation, it would draw a blank like a skip in the vinyl, and you'd be back to ruminating – trying to decipher the missing grove. Still, you found yourself feeling uncertain and unmoored to what your options even were, with nothing but a startling experience and the conjecture regarding its cause before you.

Hell, you hadn't even told Javi about the incident, and now? What are you even supposed to say?

Possible foul play is suspected?! Even in your head, it sounded ludicrous and overdramatic. After all, the investigator, the insurance rep, and the assistant manager at the dealership all conceded there was no definitive evidence that the tire was tampered with.

You were on autopilot as you came into the kitchen with the groceries and started putting everything away as your mind kept trying to rationalize the entire thing. The most likely explanation is the simplest, is the mantra that suddenly vies for influence in the swirl of what ifs and worst-case scenarios. You can hear your father's voice echo in your mind.

"Think logically. No point in getting hysterical. Be reasonable, and the answer will become obvious."

Sighing, you finish storing things in the fridge and only then notice that the stove is clear of the pots from earlier. They're actually soaking in the sink, along with the serving tray sitting clean and folded up next to the dish rack. The dinner plate that's wrapped up and placed under the stove lamp is the meal Javier served for you to have once you got home, and the sight of it makes you smile.

While dinner heats up in the microwave, you switch out the laundry loads and set the dry clothes in the basket to be sorted and folded later. You then head down to check on Javi, and find him fast asleep under the comforter while the ambient light from the TV screen casts a dreamy glow in the room. Not wanting to wake him, you tiptoe back out and go eat dinner while you stand in the kitchen. The sounds of the early twilight are filled with the trilling of the coquí and the breeze sifting through the trees and fronds outside.

Javier's house is tucked on the corner of a dead-end street in the northeast quadrant of the urbanizacíon, and behind the cement walls bordering the boundary lines of this corner of the gated neighborhood was a protected strip of land not zoned for construction, so it was often tranquil and quiet, even during the day. You found yourself thinking, This isn't a bad little bungalow at all. Just needs some TLC.

Once you've finished eating, you make quick work of the dishes and then decide to take a shower so you can make it an early night. After all, you're feeling drained, and still have a full workday left to grind through. So, you lock up the house, turn out the lights, and go into bathroom's hall entry.

The eucalyptus stems are still hung from the showerhead, and the hot, steamy water helps diffuse the scent of it soothingly over your senses.

Feeling refreshed and relaxed, you wrap the towel around yourself and shut the light off before opening the bathroom's bedroom door and tiptoeing around to your side of the bed.

The glow of the TV helps you maneuver soundlessly, and as you go, you see that Javier had turned over onto his side in order to cuddle your pillow. Tangled under his arm and over said pillow, is your nighty.

Smiling at the sight, you lean over and try to carefully tug the silky garment loose, but Javi ends up stirring awake.

"Mmph…Celina?" he sleepily mumbles.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," you murmur and sit on your side of the bed, stretching over to caress your hand along the length of his upper arm pacifyingly. "Go back to sleep, babe—"

He yawns like a lion and stubbornly embraces the pillow to his chest, taking the nighty along with it as he rolls onto his back and grumbles groggily, "M'awake now."

You can't help scoff at your luck. "No, doesn't really sound like you are. Now, drift back off, mi cariñito," is your soft coo, as you simultaneously pinch the strap of the nighty that's dangling loose and try to ease it out of his embrace so you can shed your towel and slip it on over your head.

Ever the contrarian, Javi drowsily rolls onto his side again so he can gruffly protest with surly grunts as he reaches out with his right hand and tries to heard you closer, but only comes up short. "Hmph, c'mere," is his raspy whine when he shuffles closer in order to lasso his arm around your waist.

"Ay, Javi, I'm still in a towel and I've been trying to get the nighty out from your clutches without stirring you awake," you irreverently huff as you wriggle away to the edge of the bed so you can go discard the towel and hang it back up in the bathroom. But Javi snags the back of the fluffy material and hauls you back, so you squeal, "Javier!"

His husky chuckle makes it clear that he's just been feigning being drowsy for the last few seconds. "Just come snuggle, preciosa. Nighty's optional," is his sexy drawl as he tows you closer until you're tucked against him.

"Someone is feeling better," you muse saucily before maneuvering around to face him so you can press your palm to his forehead. "Ah, you don't feel as feverish. Good," is your lilting observation before wriggling to get the pillow and nighty out from beneath you so you can shift up on your elbow and smile down at him as you taunt, "But you're still supposed to behave. No te he dado de alta, chavón."

He smirks at your bossy, 'I haven't discharged you,' and surrenders, flopping his arms above his head so that you can shimmy up and grab the nighty before untangling it and pulling it on over your head. With a cheeky tug of your towel, he pulls it loose from your hourglass figure and tosses it in the corner next to the dresser so you can easily scurry under the comforter with him.

"You took more of the medicine?" you ask as you cuddle up against him, smiling when he grunts in the affirmative. "I saw you polished off the rest of the leftovers from lunch. Thanks for setting a plate aside for me."

"You're welcome. Least I could do when you've taken such good care of my ass," he quips, and you snicker and relish how he squeezes you affectionately in his arms.

"Ah, you've taken care of me just as good," you sincerely assure and nuzzle his neck. His skin is warm, and his manly, spicy scent is peeking through the lingering fragrance of the Vicks vaporub.

With a pleased grunt, Javi noses into the top of your hair. At your hearty, albeit tired sigh, he hums before murmuring, "You feeling alright?"

"Yeah. I'm just tired," you mumble as you stifle a yawn. "Last two weeks have been exhausting."

Frowning, Javi is reminded that this is not the first time he's heard that – that you've had a tough time recently. He wants to ask what's been going on, but he feels you begin to relax against him, and frankly, he's still a bit run down himself. So, he kisses you on your temple after snuggling further under the covers with you, figuring he can ask tomorrow.

You're both able to drift off into a deep sleep, so much so that the TV is left on playing the late-night show, but it doesn't stir either of your slumbers.

No, it isn't until early the following morning that you slowly wake to Javier clearing his throat over the sound of the sink running in the bathroom. You can make out the ambient light from the TV screen from just beyond the shelter of the covers, and shiver at the chill in the room. Tiredly, you roll over and peer through heavy lids to see the door is ajar and Javier is at the sink. You can see part of his reflection in the mirror above the sink vanity.

He's dutifully shaving his face, and even though you want to bossily admonish him, you end up yawning and tossing the comforter over your head to get a few more winks of sleep in.

It must be a short while later when you hear him moving around the bedroom, so you shift under the covers in order to peer over and see that indeed, he's in his white skivvies and rifling through the closet for something to wear as he tries to clear his throat quietly.

"Javi, come back to bed," you whine, having peeked at the alarm clock and confirmed it was still much too early still.

Pausing, he glances over at you and sees you cutely curling up under the blanket from the chill in the room, so he snorts and lopes over to toss himself onto the bed before stretching out next to you.

With a kiss to your forehead, he rumbles, "Morning, mi amor."

"Don't 'morning, mi amor,' me. Get back under here," you boss, but with your tousled hair and scrunched pout, your command doesn't have the usual gravitas.

Still, Javi takes pity on you and tucks his legs under the covers before pivoting onto his side and scooting you closer. You happily curl into him and cling to his warm torso with a satisfied sigh.

"Where you going so early?" you mumble, feeling his skin slowly seep his body heat into you.

"The field office. I wanted to get ready early so I could call Kike to get picked up—"

With a snippy hum, you sass, "I haven't declared you completely cured, tough guy—"

He scoffs amusedly, "I feel fine, mandona."

Pouting stubbornly, you shift to take his temperature with your hand at his forehead. "Hmph…we'll see what the thermometer says," you argue, and shuffle up in bed in order to reach it where it sits on his nightstand.

Humoring you, he scoots to sit up and lean backwards into the headboard as you retrieve the thermometer and sidle close before placing it under his tongue. He bounces his brows at you, and you snicker, "Hey, you have proven you cannot be trusted when it comes to your own wellness. I don't want you rushing back to work if you're still sick."

He rolls his eyes, but obeys, waiting the allotted time required for his temperature to register. Satisfied that enough time has lapsed, you take the thermometer and hold it up to the light coming from the bathroom to see the reading.

Javi peers at it himself and smiles broadly. "Ah-hah, see? 98.7. No more fever," is his triumphant drawl before he kisses your cheek and croons, "Now, the only thing getting me hot, is you—"

You blow a raspberry at that and set the thermometer aside. "Alright, beyako. But you still have to drink lots of fluids, ok?" you muse and give him a haughty look before Javi ruggedly pulls you against him and onto his lap so he can shower you with relentless kisses until you crack a smile and giggle at his ticklish moustache.

When he ends up pulling back so he can cough and clear his raspy throat, you hand him the glass of water before going to make him some hot tea.

He's just set out his white dress shirt and dark suit onto the foot of the bed when you come back into the room with a mug filled with tea and a teaspoon of honey.

Drinking a long sip, he savors it while he sits with you on the rumpled covers. "Mmm, thanks."

You kiss his shoulder before chiming, "You're welcome," and settling in to lounge comfortably while the early morning news is playing on the TV.

The serene moment of just being with each other is something you both are leaning into, and are in no rush to leave the bubble of contentment.

He nurses his tea while you languidly caress your hand along his chest whilst you both skim the chyron to see the headlines.

With your head on his shoulder, you try to relax completely, but can't help the needling worry from yesterday begin to creep up.

"I called Kike already. He's picking me up around 8," Javi volunteers as he sets the mug aside on the nightstand, and you snap out of your faraway ruminating to hum in acknowledgement. "You got a busy day?"

Sighing, you wilt against him as you gripe, "Yes, and all I can think about is being back here after work and just lazing into a stupor."

"That sounds good to me," he drawls, before purring, "Can I join you?"

You laugh, "Of course, you dork," and sit up to goofily nuzzle his cheek.

Not to be outdone, Javi starts to rambunctiously fondle your curves, getting nice handfuls of your round ass while he suckles kisses along your neck. That soon gives way to you both fooling around, and the lust that had been dormant in you the last couple of weeks you've been apart sears up in your core. And when Javi's arousal presses against your lower belly before grinding against you, making your pussy throb? It takes everything in you not to become ravenous with need.

You manage to roll him onto his back so you can straddle his lap and kiss a luscious path from his jaw, down his neck, to his chest, all while Javi arches under you and groans – hands pawing to slip under your nighty and grip your hips so he can rut against you.

"Want you," he growls when he tries to sit up and pull you closer, but you shy away. "Querida—"

Sighing as you hold your ground and push him back down so you can resume your path down his torso, you murmur against his chest, "We don't have enough time, Javi—"

"I'll make time," he defies, trying to sit up again, but you nudge him back again.

"I don't want a frantic quickie, babe," you counter before trailing the tip of your tongue down the center of his abs, cause him to gasp and stiffen under you. "I want you in my mouth—"

His groan is starved, but his tone is hard when he grouses, "Come ride my tongue, and you can put it in your mouth, guapita."

How are you supposed to argue with such a salacious compromise?

Javier feels exhilarating urge flare in his apex from how swiftly you tugged his underwear off before yanking your nighty over your head and clambering to go reverse cowgirl so he can pull you down on his face. He slots his mouth to your eager cunt and licks into you just as you wrap your lips around the tip of his throbbing cock.

You both are so fine-tuned to each other's desires – know what turns the other on and how to pluck pleasure at such a viscerally sensual level – that it's intoxicating how quickly you're reaching bliss.

He loves it when you rock against his tongue to prolong your ecstasy, and you can't get enough of how he moans in completion into your quivering center when you hollow out your cheeks and stroke him into spilling his climax in the clutch of your mouth.

Needless to say, Javi is dopily sated as he's finishing getting dressed for work a short while later, just as you come out of the shower. You pause at the doorway and watch him swagger about whilst he pulls on his belt and loops it in the buckle before he starts fiddling with the ends of his green and blue-checkered-pattern tie tucked around his collar. Seeing him so relaxed and content is endearing, and you are struck then with how much you admire him, and how happy it makes you to know he's yours.

The sound of your feet padding over the tiled floor towards him makes that silly palpitation flutter in his chest, just before you encircle your arm around his waist and hug him from behind. He can smell your shower-warmed skin and the clean fragrance of your hair as he leans into you and reaches his hand backwards to cup your towel-clad lower back once your other hand caresses up to squeeze his deltoid affectionately.

"I love you, by the way," you flirtatiously sigh, as if it's a silly reminder you were compelled to voice just now.

Grunting gloatingly, he turns and wraps his arms around you before playfully hoisting you up against him so he can easily pepper soft kisses across your cheeks before purring irreverently, "And I'm madly in love with you, by the way."

You giggle and press your lips to his in a silly way and hum dramatically for him to let you down so you can stand on your tippy toes and grin up at him whilst you busily loop the ends of his tie into a perfect knot for him. At his confident smirk when you bat your lashes up at him, you chime, "Good. Because I just want to spend all weekend with you, to the risk of you getting sick of me."

Javi exhales a gruff scoff before snickering, "That's never gonna happen, corazón. Well, maybe the other way around—"

With a bossy tug to his tie, you purse your lips imperiously at him before cutting in with impish authority, "I haven't gotten sick of you so far, so I doubt I will, galán. So quit talking nonsense—"

"That goes for you too, then, malcriada," he ruggedly interjects and gives your waist a playful squeeze before nuzzling bossy kisses into your cheek, making you laugh brightly until that discordant little sigh flits out of you.

The sound of the SUV Kike drives pulling up to the front of the house has Javi exhaling huffily, so you sigh and cup his face with both hands before crooning, "No pouting, boss man. Go have a great day."

"Fine, I'll try," he grumbles, but his soulful eyes are warm and his smile is easygoing before he leans down and gives you a soft peck on the lips.

After tugging on his socks and black leather boots, he shrugs into his dark blazer, pockets his belongings from the dresser top, and steals one last kiss before rushing out to his ride.

Swooning onto the bed, you dreamily pine over how effervescent and tingly Javier made you feel. It truly eclipses anything else you were stressing or fretting about. So much so, you compartmentalize it all so you can focus on only the good feelings.

Discarding the towel, you hustle up to quickly dry your hair and get dressed for work. Once you're satisfied with your look, you turn everything off in the bedroom, open the windows, make the bed, and sprint out on your kitten heels to grab your purse and keys before heading down to the laundry room and out the marquesina door to get in your car and start the short commute to the Federal building.

While you're striding through the entry to head directly up to your office, Javier is coming off the elevator at the top floor of the building they've leased out to act as the DEA field office.

It's a nondescript building accessible off of a side street from the major avenue, and less than a mile from a principal artery of the nearby expressway. It took a lot of jockeying, but he and Steve were able to make the case to have the field office off of the federal campus, with close access to the main routes. The underground garage was secure, and the DEA agents on-site could make the office building their base of operations for surveillance, wiretaps, and old-fashioned detective work. CI's were met with off-site at another satellite location in the warehouse district that looked out on Puerto Rico Highway 22.

As he walks in his purposeful stride through the bullpen-styled office space, he can feel some of the personnel notice him and quickly find something to busy themselves with while junior agents greet him with varying degrees of enthusiasm. He curtly nods in acknowledgement to each as he goes, intent on getting to the conference room he and Steve have designated the "Case Room" for the time being.

His former partner and current co-SAC was in said room, listening while Segarra and the main senior agents on the case argue about the latest intel, when he glances up and sees Javi making his way over through the narrow sidelight in the corner of the room.

"He has risen," Steve jibes under his breath and relaxes as Javier opens the door and breezes in. "Nice of you to join us, Jav."

Cocking a glib brow at his friend and confidante, Javi goes to sit in the available desk chair someone had rolled in previously, recycling back in it with his arms crossed as he drawls, "Looks like I walked into the middle of a squabble session. What's the latest?"

"Basically, we think we have a solid lead on a distribution hub used by the main gang syndicate in the metro-area, but Segarra here is telling us we can't move on it," Lopez deadpans, but his sharp stare communicates how vexed by the ASAC he really is.

Javier can't help roll his eyes before shifting in his seat, resting one hand on the knee of the leg he just crossed while scrubbing his other palm impatiently across his mouth and idly along his cheek. The scent of cigarette smoke permeates the air stronger than everyone's cologne and the whiff of stale coffee, giving him an instant headache. Followed by a strong craving for nicotine.

"It's good intel, Jav. But we're being told our hands are tied here," Duffy chimes in gruffly as he leans casually in his chair and flicks the ash from his cigarette into his used coffee cup.

The constant static and tension between the agents and Segarra? It was something Javier had no patience for, and that was clearly becoming more palpable the thinner it wore down.

"Sir, that kind of operation would require us to execute it in coordination with the FBI. But Agent Bozzi's office has denied the request," Segarra argues, clearly tired of being the punching bag for the other agents.

"Duffy, you know a bunch of the guys over there. What do they got going on that would be more important than this co-op?" Javi asks the other man sat across from his partner, who was always better at keeping a poker face than Lopez.

"FBI has a lot of fingers in different pies when it comes to investigations down here. I heard they're working on a lot of financial fraud cases – that they staffed up their tax fraud personnel to go through tons of paperwork, but I haven't heard of anything big," is Duffy's reply before he lets loose the exhale of smoke from his cigarette. "I can ask around some more."

"Alright," Javi retorts before glancing over at Steve. "Wanna catch me up?"

"Sure," Steve responds as he gestures 'good luck' to the other men in the room before heading for the door.

Once he and Javier are in their shared office, Javi goes to his desk drawer and retrieves his backup pack of nicotine gum, popping one out of the tray and tossing it brusquely into his mouth.

"You should really try the patch," is Steve's aloof suggestion as he sits in the cushioned couch that's backed against the wall and faces the side of Javi's desk.

"I did, but the damn thing was itchy," Javi gripes as he chews on the gum and rubs the tension between his brows moodily. In a grumble, he adds, "This takes the edge off instantly, at least."

Humming, Steve segues topics with, "Anyway, as well-meaning as Segarra is, he's not endeared himself to the agents at all. Duffy and Lopez are stubborn, for sure, but he just doesn't have the authority to get much done."

"I know…" Javi mutters as he rubs the tension from his temples with his hand before dragging his palm down his face in frustration. "Still. That prick Bozzi shouldn't be shutting shit down like that without talking to one of us—"

"You, more precisely," Steve corrects, shrugging when Javi glowers at him. "Hey, you're the one in charge of coordinated operations with other agencies here. That means you gotta work with the guy," is his laconic retort, to Javi's added chagrin.

He stews about it for a few seconds before remarking dryly, "Besides that, we got plenty of stuff from CBP for these guys to start running down…"

While they continue to hash out the upcoming game plan for all the work happening in the agency and to come, you're deep in an auditing review for all the digital data processes requiring upgrading to the new standards at the other federal satellite sites on the island.

Your team had done a great job compiling the data, so while it was busy work, it really helped you diagnose what the next steps should be for each site, and come up with an automated plan that could be shared out with each specialist in charge of the upgrading.

Just as you're finalizing some notes for your report, your cell phone rings. You answer it and are surprised to hear from Jodalys.

"Hola, I'm not interrupting you with anything?"

"No, I'm just finishing up something at the office. How can I help you?"

"I wanted to let you know about a gala WAPA-TV is organizing. We have several big marketing sponsors, and I know local government officials are going to be in attendance, so I wanted to see if you think the Giving Back program would want to be a sponsor? You'd last mentioned how the Federal office wants to foster a tighter camaraderie with the locals, so I thought this could be a good way to do that?" she pitches enthusiastically.

"Yes, I think that would be something the program manager would definitely agree on! I'll speak with him, so give me the details?" you respond as you grab for your planner and find a blank page to scribble the date, time, etc that Jodalys dictates to you.

After running it by the program manager and his lead, who really likes the prospect, he starts making the arrangements, assuring you it might be just the kind of event even the Chief Executive Director, Mercer, would encourage the federal office workers to attend.

As you're feeling accomplished at the end of the day while you walk out to your car, Javier and Steve are hopping into the SUV with Kike to start the slog home through Friday rush hour.

Thankfully, Kike knows every shortcut and back route in the metro area, so they both settle in for the drive and continue their brainstorming session.

"—Maybe you can have Segarra oversee the rundown of those CBP sources. It'll keep him busy while the guys keep crackin' along with the ops prep," Steve is suggesting to Javi from the front passenger seat.

"…I guess," is Javi's lukewarm mutter, shrugging before propping his elbow on the door panel to rest his cheek in his palm. "Frankly, I'm at my limit of giving a shit right now."

Steve grunts and busies himself with the cuff of his shirt sleeve. "Yeah, I'm there with you. Definitely looking forward to relaxing. Which reminds me: Connie's wanting to spend the next few days just us and the kids, so hope it's ok if we skip dinner this weekend," he drawls coolly and peeks at Javi in the rearview mirror as he adds, "I got a lot of making up to do for being so busy while she's been stuck with Olivia, sick and all."

Nodding, Javi leans back in his seat and crosses his arms as he confides, "Celina said she wants to spend the weekend just lazing around together, so no worries. She's had a hectic couple weeks too."

Humming, Kike remarks conversationally while driving down a particular shortcut, "Yeah, Celina had a stressful time! That car accident, getting sick and all that. She said it couldn't have happened at a worse time with how busy she's been with work—"

Brows shooting up in surprise, Javi shifts forward and asks, "What car accident?"

Keeping his attention on the aggressive drivers ahead, Kike answers, "Oh, early last week. Her car hit a pothole and it messed up the wheel. She had it towed to her dealer. After, she called to see if I could give her a ride to work."

Steve can feel Javi bristling in the backseat, so he turns and shoots his friend a glance. "I take it she didn't mention it?"

Features hardening, Javi tucks his chin against his chest and leans back, but his shoulders are squared with tension, even as he tries to obfuscate, "It must've not been too serious—"

Unaware of the unease the other man is trying to bottle up, Kike beeps the horn at a rude driver before zooming around him, managing to multitask and cut in, "She said the hit was so hard that the tire came off. Luckily she wasn't on the autopista when it happened. The potholes in town are no joke."

"Shit. Was she ok?" Steve asks before Javi silently spirals in the backseat. "Well, she must've been—"

"Oh yes!" Kike assures, navigating the SUV down the intersection with confidence now that the main pockets of traffic have been traversed. "She was mostly worried about how it happened when she was very busy."

Before Javier let's his emotions swirl up, the rational side of him cleaves through with reasonable observations. Well she was busy, and then sick, and you were away so she likely didn't want to make you worry. It must've not been really bad, since her car is already fixed…

"She's clearly fine, Jav. Especially after nursing your overgrown ass back to health," Steve razzes, snapping Javi out of his internal ruminating. "Lord knows she's a saint for putting up with your shit. Even if you are a reformed and sweet-talkin' asshole now."

Giving him a snarky deadpan, Javi drawls, "Damn straight I am, and you better never motherfucking forget it, pendejo."

Kike chuckles at the exchange, always thoroughly amused by the frat-like banter between the two senior agents.

As they traverse the gated neighborhood and the SUV cruises down the street in order to drop off Javi first – prolonging the witty trash-talking session – a short while later, the rookie officer rounds the vehicle into a U-turn on the street in order to pull along the curb up to the blue-and-white bungalow.

"—I'm going to take her out for a nice dinner, as a matter of fact."

"With or without the kids?"

"I'm getting a babysitter—"

"You should, then you should romance her, for once. Try to remind her why she married your ass in the first place—"

"She remembers just fine, bud. What you need to worry about is finally getting your shit together and making Celina your wife already—"

"Sonuvabitch, you're fucking relentless—"

"Because I'm right and you know it—"

"And you know I'm working on it!" Javi scoffs wryly before patting Kike on the shoulder. "Thanks for being there for her. I really appreciate it."

"No thank you needed, sir! Siempre a la órden," Kike exclaims jovially before putting the car in park so Javier can slide over to the door nearest the curb.

"Say 'hi' to Celina for me, puto," Steve cheerfully rasps.

"Give my love to Connie and the girls, hillbilly," Javi counters glibly right back before wishing Kike a good night and exiting the car.

As the SUV drives off to Steve's, Javier strides up the sidewalk towards his driveway, where your car is parked right behind his in the open-air garage. He can't help round the sleek sedan, scanning it to see if there was any remnant of damage from the accident, but finding none under the early evening light. Grunting, he lopes to the garage door entry and let's himself in with his key.

"Is that you, Javi?" you call out from the bedroom.

"Yeah," he calls back before coughing, clearing his throat and absently twirling the keys in his hand while already striding through the laundry room, tugging the knot loose on his necktie as he treks across the living room.

When he comes into his bedroom, he finds you in semi-undress.

You'd just been stripping your blouse when you heard him come in, having fussed with rolling the portable TV out of the way to be tucked into the recessed corner by the window on your side of the bed. And now you were shedding the sateen tank underneath to place it onto the dry-cleaning pile just when Javier walked in, so you were in just your white lace bra, navy blue trousers and kitten heels.

"Hey," you greet as you flounce over and kiss him hello.

He smiles and tows you closer when you attempt to waltz off to the laundry basket sitting on the bed. "When you get home, hm?"

Smirking, you loop your hands around his nape and slink up against him, smelling the cologne on his skin and the sweet smell of the nicotine gum on his breath. "Not long ago. Like ten minutes or so?"

"And you're already doing busy work," he points out amusedly, before nuzzling your jaw.

"No, I just took out the load that was left in the dryer from last night," you reply while trying not to swoon at his lips grazing down your neck. "I-I forgot to take the dry-cleaning to get dropped off, so I was pulling them together—"

"Leave it. We're having a lazy weekend now, remember?" is his honeyed baritone rumble before he kisses a path back up your neck, leaving ticklish goosebumps thanks to his moustache in his wake.

"I do, b-but I just wanted to tidy up before I started dinner," you sigh dreamily as you practically melt in his arms from how he suckles that erogenous pulse point just below your jaw.

"Let's go out for dinner," he suggests in a low baritone that makes your toes curl. "Mmm, we had these great Cuban sandwiches for lunch from a place on the Roosevelt. You in the mood for anything specific?"

You know he's buttering you up with sexy kisses and caresses, so you nudge your temple against his cheek in a playful show of dominance before encircling his waist and leaning into him. "I could go for Cuban, actually. It's been a while since I've had congrí," you purr before pulling away to coquettishly finish stripping out of your work clothes, adding over your shoulder, "I'll put something on and we can go to a place I know."

Grunting in agreement, Javi leers as you slip your heels off before shimmying out of the fitted trousers while he distractedly empties out his pockets and sets his keys on the dresser. He ogles your bare skin while shedding his blazer, fantasizing of all the things he'd love to do to you after stripping you out of your undergarments.

Picking out a pretty yellow gingham dress from the closet, quickly pulling it on and fastening the front buttons, you slip on the closest pair of open toe leather sandals you have before snickering knowingly over your shoulder, "You better hop to it, guapetón."

He snorts and picks up the pace of changing out of his work clothes, smirking when you breeze by him and pat his tush on the way to the bathroom to brush out your hair.

Soon, you're both walking down the driveway to your car, getting in and backing out onto the street. As you drive, he asks you about your day, and you tell him about the proposed gala, unaware he's paying attention to how the vehicle handles to see if he can gauge any issues with it. When you're pulling into the parking lot tucked behind the Cuban cuisine establishment on the corner of the intersection across from the city park a short while later, he's weighing his options whether to just come out and ask you about it.

But then he admonishes himself for worrying to begin with, so he reconsiders asking, for the time being.

After you've parked, Javi rounds to your side to open your door and help you out, which you still find charming and chivalrous. And with his hand to the small of your back, he escorts you around to the front entrance and takes your lead when the hostess greets you and you ask to sit on the outside terrace.

Once seated, Javi admires the pretty hanging flower pots and decorative planters that keep the terrace cozy and cool under the early twilight. Across the way is a grassy lot that looked like was used during the day for a food truck spot, and there were a few stray cats hanging out in the shade of the building.

You strategically sit adjacent Javi instead of across from him so you could lean over and reach him easily for kisses, which he's more than content to shower you with. When your waiter takes your orders and returns shortly with your drinks, you take a nice long sip from yours.

Smirking, Javi croons, "I guess there's no better place to get a Cuba Libre than at an authentic Cuban spot, hm?"

Sighing contentedly, you nod and simper, "That is correct, agente."

He chuckles and sips his own whiskey while reaching under the table to affectionately squeeze your knee. "So, besides helping organize the feds to get in on another ritzy party, how else did the rest of your day go?" is his quipping question.

Scoffing, you sneer goofily, "Hey! I did no such thing. And anyway, it's always good for the locals and the feds to find camaraderie somehow." At his wry grunt and lopsided smirk, you roll your eyes and yield, "And, any excuse for a party is something they tend to jump at here. But at least it was a decent distraction from the busy-work I did most of the day."

Swirling the amber liquid in his glass idly, Javi asks, "That upgrade program you were telling me about?"

"Yeah. All the leads had to do diagnostics of their designated sites. Going through it all to allocate the hours and funding for the upgrading has been a pain," you respond and brush the few stray strands that fluttered up across your cheek from the soft breeze wafting through the terrace. "Eventually, I'll have to make a trip out to St. Thomas to help the team lead there—"

You pause when the waiter returns with your meals, and you both thank him before you place your napkin in your lap and wish Javier a 'Buen Provecho' as you're eagerly taking a bite.

"Buen Provecho," he offers back before digging into his arroz con pollo and carne con papas. "So, you were saying something about a trip?"

"Ah, yes – to St. Thomas. Things have been so hectic I haven't had much time to plan for it," you reply smoothly before eating the tender sliver of pernil with gusto along with your forkful of rice.

"Speaking of hectic, Kike mentioned you had an issue with the car last week?" Javi remarks in a casual tone, knowing not to fish too obviously.

Internally groaning, you realize you should've expected the young officer to mention it to Javier, so you dramatically sigh as you admit, "Yes, I was driving to work after an early appointment in town and I hit the mother of all potholes after an intersection. I had just gotten the car serviced, remember? So it looks like they didn't tighten the bolts or something well enough on one of the tires and it went flying after hitting that pothole."

Javi balks, "Jesus Christ, what kind of a fuck-up was in charge and didn't check to make sure—"

Your hand clasps at his forearm reassuringly as you rush out before he can get worked up, "Mistakes happen. I'm just glad it was fixable and no one got hurt. Don't get all ornery about it, babe."

He huffs out of his nose and scowls, but at your irreverent look and patting of his forearm for him to loosen up, he grunts laconically, "You didn't mention it."

"Javier, you were busy! I didn't want to tell you while you were away. You were stressed out enough, so I didn't want that looming in the back of your mind, making you worry when there wasn't anything you could do anyway," you insist, adding, "And with everything going on this week, it kind of fell off the list of things that were front of mind."

Knowing you had a point, he relents with a nod, "You're right," and continues eating.

You enjoy the validation of being told you're right by your typically stubborn lover, so you smile around your next bite.

"How's the field office coming along?" you ask him after you've sipped your drink.

"It's finally up, and all the field agents are working out of there now. We got Segarra posted there. Steve and me will rotate being there and at our clerical office in the Federal building," he explains before taking another healthy forkful into his mouth.

"Good. And did CBP help you guys with what you needed?" is your next query as you scoop your next bite of congrí up.

"…We got some leads, but I honestly don't know if it'll amount to much. I just have this inkling that no one is really close to cracking things at all. Just treading water," he answers you candidly, giving you a one-shouldered shrug as he adds, "But then I'm used to having a clear target, and that's not how things are here, so far."

You hum at that as you chew. Once you've swallowed, you dab your lips before remarking, "Well, I'm selfishly glad you're not going to be personally in the field anymore, and that you and Steve have a team down here that is capable of all that—"

"I wasn't in the field during the Cali case," he muses, and at your sarcastic stare, he modifies, "Not as much as I'd been on previous cases, anyway."

"Javi, are you trying to forewarn me here that you're going to go on raids and extract informants personally again?" you imperiously deride as you cross your arms and lean back in your chair, gaze sharpening on his expression.

"No, I was just clarifying that I wasn't in the field much during Cali, is all. And I don't plan on being in the field at all this time around," he assures as smoothly as possible, and at your unconvinced stare, he takes your hand and squeezes it. "It's different this time, querida. The way we're structured down here? I have plenty of senior agents who know what they're doing, and all I gotta do is help cut through red tape, schmooze the local government, and coordinate the inter-agency ops, when needed," is his confident reassurance, adding sardonically, "Plus, I'm too old for chasing fuckers across rooftops and down balconies. I'm more than content to oversee the investigation and make decisions over being in the field."

Your eyes twinkle in the waning daylight as you tilt your face towards him with a coy smile. "Are you sure?" you find yourself asking, and at Javi's curious look, you give his fingers a squeeze before folding your hands into your lap, wringing them together as you're elaborating, "I've been thinking about it. You always preferred to be out front. Sitting back and relaxing in your position of authority drove you stir-crazy. I—I guess I'm just worried that you won't be able to keep yourself from getting invested. No matter how much you don't plan to or even want to."

His features etch soberly at your words. Leaning forward, he murmurs, "I meant what I said, mi amor. All the chasing – the frantic hunting for pinche asesinos is over for me. I always felt like it would only count if I was the one to nail them, but what you said? About things not going down the way I dictate or believe they should? It stuck with me, for a long time. I realized my priorities were, well, fucked up."

Surprised to hear this, you ask, "What do you mean?"

With a cleansing breath, he utters his answer with unwavering certainty.

"I wanted my life – what I did with it – to matter, and getting justice consumed all my priorities. But it wasn't until I brought it all down and ended up feeling no different – that nothing had changed but me, that I realized I had it all wrong and had lost myself to it. I don't ever want to end up there again."

He finds it liberating when it comes out of his mouth. It was a burden he didn't know he was holding onto until it was said.

"Oh, Javi," you murmur and lean close to brush your hand lovingly over his cheek. His dark, soulful eyes are gentle, and your heart aches as you whisper, "I'm sorry for ever making you doubt yourself—"

Javi gathers your hand in both of his and tells you decisively, "You didn't, cariño. What you said was a wakeup call. You made me doubt what I was doing, and why. Having to sit with that and work through it was something I'd avoided. But once I did, I realized what mattered to me was making a life, and doing the best I can to make it a good one I can be proud of."

Your features blossom into open admiration, making it easy for him to cup your cheek and brush a covetous kiss to your lips before he stares into your eyes and declares, "I want to make a life with you. And that matters to me more than anything else."

The emotion that wells up in your chest at his words steals your breath, making you want to express it the only way you can.

You scootch out of your seat so you can kiss Javier passionately before hugging him tight.

He pulls you to sit on his thigh so he can easily hold you to him, feeling relief and pride radiate through him as you nuzzle his neck. His hand cradles the back of your neck when lean back to gaze lovingly at him, and his heart skips when your eyes shine with devotion at him. Then, as if the world around you came back into focus, you girlishly slink back into your chair when you remember yourself and your surroundings.

With a sweet smile, he winks at your sheepish exhale when another dining group comes onto the terrace to sit at a larger table across from where you're both sat close to the veranda.

There was so much spinning up excitedly in your heart at his words, leaving your thoughts skipping along scenarios you both still needed to discuss and plan for, expectations you had yet to share, and desires unstated between you both. Just as you feel unsettled by thought of, What kind of life will he want to make together? You jolt at the sensation of something butting against your ankle.

You look down and realize one of the cats has come onto the terrace and is begging for food.

Javi watches you smile, then covertly glance around before shredding the rest of the roasted meat on your plate and piling the minced morsels on the floor for it.

"Come, gatito," you whisper to the orange cat, and watch it do just that, eagerly gobbling up the meat before scampering off back to its shady area on the other side of the veranda.

"That reminds me. You didn't get an annoying cat down here. How come?" is Javier's irreverent query as he nurses his drink.

Idly wiping your fingertips on your napkin, you tilt your head drolly at him as you retort, "My landlady didn't allow pets. And I didn't think it would be fair to have a cat, with how much I'd be working and traveling."

He hums, tempted to remark, 'Well when we move in together, it'll be a place we can have an inside-outside cat,' but decides against it. Instead, he muses, "Olivia has been trying to wear Steve down about getting a puppy. She didn't get one for Christmas, and got Isabel as a sister instead."

You laugh, delighted by the anecdote, and fall into banter about your now-comingled group of friends.

After sharing a flan de queso for dessert, Javier pays the tab and escorts you to the parking lot, holding your hand as you cross towards the car. He opens the passenger door for you, and you amusedly hand him your keys when he gets in on the driver's side. As he navigates out to the main intersection en route for home, you fiddle with the radio before setting it on the Magic 97.3 station, and smile as the late 80's single plays.

Snickering, he steers the wheel with one hand while he props the other behind your head rest. "We gotta go out dancing soon. When're you gonna show me the nightlife scene here, eh, dancing queen?" is his playful croon, winking at you when you give him a coquettish smirk.

"Well, that gala sounds like it'll have music and dancing. And if that's not enough, I'm up for dancing anything you want, anywhere," you flirt right back.

Pursing his full lips intriguingly, he drawls, "Square dancing?"

You snort, comically rolling your eyes as you lilt, "Ok, fine, maybe not anything. But salsa, merengue, bachata, cumbia, vallenato—"

"Lambada, perreo," he continues impishly, giving you that teasing, smoldering glance before bouncing his eyebrows suggestively.

You snicker and squeeze his jean-clad thigh, razzing, "Alright, fresco. Whatever one you're up for, I'll gladly be your dance partner."

"Good. But tonight? We're rollin' around the sheets," he cockily declares, grinning when you girlishly laugh.

You're gleeful that he's true to his word once you both get home.

It's actually a breezy night out, so you're happily cranking the bedroom windows all the way open when Javi walks in from locking up. He surprises you when you turn back from slipping off your sandals into the closet and are unfastening the first three buttons of your dress.

Encircling your waist, he holds you close while taking over unbuttoning your dress open for you while rocking you in a slow waltz-like sway. Titillated, you lean into his broad frame and nuzzle his jaw, caressing your hands up his back and smiling into his yearning kiss.

Your soft perfume and warm skin have a shiver skittering through him as you let his hands maneuver the dress off your torso and pool at your feet while his mouth sets a worshipful path along your flushing features and jaw. Sighing wistfully, you bury your fingers in the back of his hair when he trails his lips covetously down the column of your neck while his hands unclasp your bra.

"Mmm, you need to strip too, you know," you dreamily chime when you shed your bra and tug naughtily on the front of his caramel-colored button down before plucking the first few buttons open.

Scoffing ruggedly, he showily kicks his boots off and unbuckles his belt while giving you a molten look. "I'm trying to pace myself," is his husky murmur as he pauses in unzipping his jeans to let you tug his shirt's hem loose and resume unbuttoning it for him.

"No one told you to pace yourself, chulito," you tease in a sultry purr as you push his shirt off of his shoulders and pluck his jeans open before unzipping his fly.

It turns him on the way you sensually stare up at him through your lashes while shoving his jeans down before kissing along his bare chest.

Making short work of kicking them off his legs, Javier whisks you up against him and takes you to bed, where you both peel the clothes left between you off and amorously kiss and caress each other until you're salaciously fooling around.

The ceiling fan undulates the cool air over your heated forms as Javi rolls you under him while you cling to his body and giggle effervescently from his mustachioed kisses to your collar while he fidgets from your ticklish touch along his sides.

You're both content to canoodle and tease each other with nuzzles and caresses while your hips carve into each other, prolonging the delicious foreplay out while making desire stoke swelteringly where his arousal and yours press up.

Rolling to straddle him, you lusciously capture his lips with yours while gliding your palm to grind the underside of his cock along the silken heat of your cunt, relishing his groan and how his grip on your hips becomes possessive.

Breaking the kiss and nudging your nose into his cheek to get his obedience, you alluring whisper, "All I've wanted all day, is to make love with you, hermoso."

The lust in his dark eyes is scintillating as he husks, "Yeah?"

Humming sexily, you kiss him before susurrating against his panting lips, "Yes."

Javier rolls so you're on your back and he can nestle his ramrod erection into your clenching heat after hiking your leg over his hip just as he rocks forward.

You moan and arch up into him, and end up snickering breathlessly when he swears huffily, "Mmph, love, not fucking."

"It's really sexy that you know the difference, bebito," is your cheeky lilt when he clearly is trying to rein in his lascivious libido. At his haughty stare, you simper, "It is!"

Huffing amusedly out of his nose and shaking his head, Javi cracks a lopsided smile before sighing hoarsely, "Luckily for you, I've wanted to love you up all day too," as he shifts so you're both lying on your sides, facing each other while he's still inside you.

Your smile is radiant when he works his hips in that exquisitely ruinous undulation that lights you up with pleasure, leading into the passionate kisses and salacious clutching of your bodies as ecstasy pulses through your center while he groans sweet filth and earns your breathy praise and supplications for more.

And when he seats the pad of his thumb against the hood of your clit and grinds delectable pressure into it while stroking his throbbing cock deep inside your sheath, you cry out a rapturous sound and dig your fingertips into his lats, toes curling in bliss as you reach climax. Javi prolongs it by swirling circles over your pleasure point while thrusting at that angle that has him brushing against the bundle of nerves nestled where you can't reach, relishing your whimpers and mewls as you dissolve under him.

He nudges a gloating kiss into your cheek and keeps nuzzling you impishly when you sigh and smile dazedly at him before petting his brow and cupping the side of his neck lovingly as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him down to meet your insatiable kiss.

Shifting you both so he's on his back, you take the reins of the lovemaking by grinding down on his cock and clenching your floor muscles around it while showering kisses along his cheeks, brow, jaw and neck. Your hands are braced to his chest, keeping him pinned to lie back and let you untangle the lascivious urge loose from his core as you ride him the way he loves. The sexy sight of you – skin dewy and warm, breasts bouncing from how hard and fast you're fucking yourself on him, features rapt with ecstasy while your gaze remains fixed on his – is the thing of Javi's dreams, and when your mouth falls open on a whine of his name, it's what sears him through with his release.

His gruff moan catches in his chest when you mewl and curl into him, reaching bliss and writhing in the throes of sensational gratification together.

The enchanting glee of being ravished and full hits you like a wave as the post coital haze buzzes through you. It isn't until you've melted back into yourself that you realize Javi has rolled you onto your back and is pulling out of your tingling heat.

Quivering, you whine for him to stay in bed, thinking he's going to go retrieve a washcloth. Instead, Javi hushes you with a possessive kiss that has his tongue marking its territory in your mouth before he maps a salacious path with it down your neck, the valley of your breasts, the line of your stomach and the crest of your sex.

With the flat of his tongue, he gives you gentle aftercare, careful not to lick or nuzzle your tender pussy too eagerly that would overstimulate and hurt you.

"Oh, Javi…" you hiccup airily before shivering from him blowing cool air over your scorching center before he hums and brushes a soft kiss to your womb.

His eyes gleam with contentment when he stares down at you, so you reach for him and lure him to lie on top of you, held in your arms.

Javi feels serenity fill him as your hand brushes over his hair while he rests his head on your chest, content to stay like this with you forever, if it were possible.

You feel him relax in your embrace and let out a sated exhale, the warmth of his breath puffing against your breast seeming to be a tired one, so you don't expect him to mumble in a honeyed purr, "Te quiero, mi amor."

Feeling elated, you continue to run your fingers through his hair soothingly as you whisper, "Te amo con todo mi corazón, Javier."

It's the greatest way to fall asleep – being told you love him with all your heart, while held in your arms.

So much so, Javi sleeps soundly through the night, and would've slept long into the late morning if not for the sound of loud revving of a car engine out on the street in front of the house.

Startling awake, Javi shifts up in bed and finds he's alone. Concerned, he clambers out from the rumpled covers and retrieves a pair of sweatpants from the dresser before hastily yanking them on.

"¿Querida?" he calls out as he peeks into the bathroom and finds it empty before walking out through the hallway door towards the main living space.

As he approaches the laundry room's entry, he realizes the loud car engine is coming from a vehicle idling in front of his driveway, so he goes out to see what's going on – and finds a mint-blue Bronco beach cruiser parked at the curb, with you in the driver's seat.

You beep the horn with a spritely smile before sitting up on your knees in the seat so you can shout, "Ready for a beach day, stud?"

Incredulous, he pads over barefoot down the cement drive to the sidewalk when you shut the engine off and retrieve shopping bags from the backseat. He sees you're wearing a halter top-styled peach cover-up dress and watermelon-colored two-piece bikini underneath it.

"Where'd you get this from?" he asks, holding the car door open for you so you can hop out with the bags.

"I rented it," you declare brightly before handing him the bags. "Now, these are for you, so go inside and change," is your wily command before cupping his cheek and kissing his stupefied expression off his handsome face.

Pinching his waist affectionately, you nudge Javi along back up the driveway and into the house while he peeks into the shopping bags and finds several swim trunks, flip flops, and beach shirts – all of which looked like would fit him perfectly.

"What the—I thought you wanted to spend a lazy weekend in?" Javi chuckles as you both make it into the living room.

"Well, I woke up early, and watched the news while I folded the laundry, and they said it's supposed to be a balmy, sunny day," you retort as you follow him into the bedroom, adding, "So I thought it'd be a good excuse to go for a nice seashore excursion. I can't believe you didn't have any bathing suits!"

He laughs, then coughs before answering, "I probably haven't worn one since swim team in high school, guapita."

"Alright, pick one, put it on, and let's go!" is your wily exclamation as you change your own sandals for white hibiscus-patterned flip flops you pulled from the bag.

A short while later and Javier is locking up the door before following you to the beach cruiser, rounding it to get in on the passenger's side after your climb into the driver's seat.

"—Do we need to stop anywhere?" he's asking as you turn the car on. "Any beach snacks? Towels?"

"Ah, I got a cooler filled up already, and I thought we could stop at kioskos for snacks while on the way," you tell him as you reach into the space behind your seat and pull out the lovely beach tote Javier surprised you with. "And, I got the beach towels and necessities packed in here already. So, ready to head out?" is your spunky query, winking at him.

Sitting in the seat next to you, in the light blue beach shirt and navy swim shorts, Javi smirks proudly at your dazzling smile.

"Fuckin' A, I am, bravita. Lead the way."

It's been such a long time since you both spent the day out together, that you're each appreciating every single moment while on the road, at the kiosko pit stops, and even in the stop-and-go traffic on the beach route off of the highway. The sun is out, the breeze is cool, the radio plays the pop station crisply, and the frituras are delicious as you both cruise down the northeast coast of the island, all while you and Javi laugh and banter about.

The scenery becomes more and more lush, tropical, and rural the further you cruise towards the hidden gem of a beach you're telling Javi about, wind in your hair and excitement filling your eyes as you gush, "We're gonna have a bit of a trek on foot, but I promise it's going to be worth it."

"I trust you. I'm just surprised anything is secret, with tourism being as big as it is here," he remarks good-naturedly.

"Ah, true. But there are so many little nooks along the shoreline and people tend to go to the bigger, well-known beaches across the island. My father loved exploring secluded spots, and when I was little, he'd take us to the hidden beaches he'd found growing up," is your exuberant explanation as you pull off the rural backroad onto a rough-trodden path.

Javi is impressed with your knowledge and navigation skills as you steer the beach cruiser over the terrain until you hit a slight hill that flanks a thicket on one side and more lush trees on the other. Maneuvering the vehicle around so it's already pointing back the way you drove in from, you park and put the brake on before reaching in the backseat for the tote. While you do so, Javi gets out and goes to the trunk to grab the little red cooler.

"Ok, it's gonna be about a 10 minute walk this way," you're telling him after you get out of the car and round it to the lush tree line, smiling when Javi chivalrously takes your hand and helps you step around a mucky spot that's in the path.

"You know, this kind of reminds me of that time, in Cartagena," he rumbles ruggedly while you both walk side-by-side, holding hands through the hidden footpath.

"That was just as naughty as this. Even naughtier, even," you snicker and squeeze his hand goofily.

"Shit, is this illegal?" he laconically grumbles, quickly glancing around to see if there are any 'Do not trespass' signs around, posted somewhere amongst the foliage.

"There's no such thing as illegal access to a beach, silly," you tell him, and Javi is about to point out how that doesn't answer his question, when you quickly add, "It would only be illegal if this was a naval-restricted zone, and it isn't. It's naughty because we're going to have the beach all to ourselves, which feels kinda wrong."

Grunting, he rasps, "We could've gone to a regular beach, you know. I was only teasing about lounging on a secret playa just the two of us—"

"Hey, I promised you a seashore adventure, so quit being a modest suavón," you heckle irreverently and tug him along to follow you down a veer in the path.

He chuckles, and decides to do just that, and soon enough you're both stepping around some tall, thick-leafed, cactus-like bushes between a smattering of palm trees to emerge onto the secluded beach shore that looks out on a crescent-shaped cove of turquoise, rolling waves beyond the warm, tan sands. The breeze is placidly swaying the foliage and the cawing of birds in the sunny sky add to the picturesque ambiance of the water lapping up along the coastline.

"Holy shit," Javi gapes, in awe of the beautiful seaside oasis.

Exuberantly, you tug him by his hand along towards the nice spot on the soft tan sands of beach under a shady canopy of palms, telling him, "Watch your step."

Maneuvering over some fallen palm trunks and husks, you both make quick work of staking a favorable spot.

The beach blanket is a big square Javi pins from flopping in the breeze with the red cooler and your tote at the strategic corners, and once you've both gotten down to your swimsuits and folded your clothes to stay warm in the sunny corner of it, you pull out some towels and Javi unrolls them over the blanket while you rifle through the tote.

As you do so, you coquettishly cajole him into sitting with, "C'mon, we have to wait a while before swimming," smiling when he does so before casually reclining back with his arms propped backwards.

His broad shoulders are relaxed as he stares out at the tropical water, making for a delicious sight as you distractedly retrieve the sunscreen from your tote. This hunk is all mine.

With delight, you dutifully rub sunscreen into his shoulders and back, and intend to put the lotion on your own arms and shoulders when Javi plucks the bottle from your hand and has you crawl over to sit in front of him on the towel that he'd draped down for you.

"You know, I could get used to this," Javi muses as he massages the sunscreen into your back, mindful of the bikini straps in his way. When you hum curiously, he elaborates, "Enjoying the sun and sand, staring out at the waves, lounging around with you. Going on getaways together."

"Is that so?" you singsong as you turn and smile at him over your shoulder. At his cocky smirk, you turn completely around so you can lean forward and purr teasingly, "So my plan to romance you into loving island life is working, hm?"

The way the sun catches in his dark brown eyes have them shining like copper when he grins brilliantly and leans back on his elbows so you have to loom over him sexily. "As if it took any real effort. I really like it here, preciosa," is his debonair murmur as he reaches up to tuck some rogue strands of hair behind your ear. "And, I really like my view right now."

You prop your stance with your arms draping around his shoulders and lean closer so you can kiss him tenderly on the lips, before lilting, "Good. I want this to be a place that feels like home."

The way your eyes shone with dazzling delight while the sun's rays frame you, making him feel punch-drunk, bewitch him for a second, so he's disarmed when you suddenly ruffle his hair daringly before hopping up and running down to the shore while shouting over your shoulder, "Now come catch me if you can, special agent guapito!"

Scoffing comically, Javier scrambles up and runs over the hot sand to go in after you.

The afternoon is filled with you both swimming and splashing each other, goofing around and floating in the shallows while the waves lap warmly at the surface, and canoodling buoyantly while you cling to him as you chat and he treads water for you both.

Once you're each tuckered out by the waves, you'd headed back to the beach blanket, toweled off, and lounged together under the sun, laying over your towel while you let the warm rays dry you. He retrieves beverages from the cooler for you both to enjoy while relaxing on post-swim-tired muscles.

Javi's sipping from the ice-cold can of Medalla while you set your soda aside so you can untie the straps of your bikini top before laying out on your stomach.

Staring at the expanse of naked skin exposed to the hot sun now, Javi asks, "You want me to get your back?"

"No, that's ok. I just want to even out so I don't have tan lines," you reply as you fold your arms down and rest with your head pillowed by your pile of clothes.

He hums, and you feel him shift from the spot he'd been sat, before there's a light tug on the strings of one hip on your bikini bottoms. "You forgot about these tan lines," is his rugged drawl as he unties the other hip's strings.

You giggle before sitting up on your folded arms and sassily chastising, "Only you see those tan lines, fresco. So I wasn't planning on going Blue Lagoon out here—!"

"Never saw it," Javi drolly retorts, earning your comical scoff. He mischievously continues, "You said this is a secluded spot, so…" and deliberately tugs the undone bikini bottom off of you.

Laughing, you reply, "Well, the nearest community from here is over a mile away, and the fisherman don't tend to come this way," and roll sidelong to give him a sultry look as you tease, "You really never saw that movie?"

"No way," he snickers, fanning his fingers along the curve of your buttocks to brush off the sand sticking to your cheeks. At your amused, albeit dubious hum, Javier concedes, "My cousins did, though, and talked about how cheesy it was. And, it just seemed weird to have such a young girl prancing around naked like that in a movie."

"Ah, good point," you chime before going to stretch out onto your back, as if you're not completely nude and under the warm rays of the sun. With your eyes closed, you relax and let out a cleansing sigh.

Despite his coaxing, Javi looks around to make sure no one is peeping from the trees at you before asking, "What's the movie about, again?" and resumes drinking from his beer can as he shuffles towards your sunbathing form.

You're basking in the warm heat of the sun and the tranquil breeze as you sense his form sidle close to you.

"It's about two kids who get shipwrecked on a deserted island in the South Pacific during the Victorian era. They grow up together, hit puberty, and start fooling around—"

He watches your breath hitch when his fingertips cooled by the condensation of the beer can skim teasingly along your lithe belly to brush off some clinging sand grains from your skin. "Ah, ok yeah, I remember Carla joking about that," he remarks smoothly while trailing his touch in lazy circles up your midriff towards your breasts, skimming a path up the valley of your sternum before tracing them along your collarbones. "Don't they start fucking like animals in heat?"

It's taking everything in you to keep your eyes closed and not sit up and pounce on him right now, especially when his touch skims back down to map your left areola before he pinches your nipple. Biting back a gasp, you answer tightly, "Y-Yes, and then she gets pregnant but they don't know what's happening to her because they never got the birds and the bees talk."

With an intrigued hum, Javi admires your naked form, relishing how it looks under a sunny sky. The way your nipples hardened even with the heat of the sun keeping your skin warm and dewy. How your tummy tensed with excitement at his touch. You clench your thighs together now, and it draws his gaze to the chalice of your pelvis and the soft curls at your mound, so he swipes more condensation from his can onto his fingers and guides his cooled digits to trace at the heat between your thighs.

Your eyes open as you stifle a mewl and blush furiously under his handsome stare. "Does it have a happy ending?" is his cool query, while his fingers rub delicious pleasure into your now throbbing clitoris, making your cunt drip with need.

Not trusting your voice, you nod and bite your bottom lip as to not whimper too loudly, one hand gripping the towel underneath you while the other clutches at his elbow.

"Maybe we can find a deserted island and spend all our time fooling around," is his canela-roughened rumble in your ear as his fingers work to get you off.

Arching, your thighs clamp around his hand when you orgasm, hearty cry of, 'Javi!' getting muffled against the back of your palm while Javi watches you ride out the waves of pleasure, feeling content and accomplished.

The tingly bliss that settles in as you lay sated and naked under the sunshine fills you with splendor, making you sigh and stare up dreamily at Javier while he licks his fingers clean of your climax before using the edge of the towel to give you aftercare.

Pleased with himself, Javi was about to pick up his can to finish the beer, when you surprise him by taking it from him, draining it with one long drink, and then setting it aside before nudging him to lean back so you can straddle his hips as you slip your hands down the front of his swim trunks.

His erection is thick and throbbing in your palms, and Javi swears hotly before gripping your waist and hitching gruffly with warning, "Q-Querida, we shouldn't—"

"Shh, lay back and let me make love to you, sweet boy," you purr sensually at him before nuzzling his cheek and capturing his lips with yours.

Savage pride flares up in him at your words, so he obeys and lets you push his swim trunks down to free his rock-hard cock, and keeps his hands on your waist while you plunge yourself down on it with slow undulations that have your sheath squeezing and gripping around his length.

Truthfully, if anyone had come upon you and spied from the tree lines, neither of you would've noticed. Not with how fixated on each other's pleasure you both were.

It feels surreal. Being outside, under a tropical sky, the scent of salt, sunscreen, sweat and the heat of the sun above and the sand beneath the blanket mingled with the cool air from the sea and the sounds of untouched nature mixing with your comingled cries of pleasure. It's all a sensory overload. And the sight of you in your naked glory, rocking up and down on his throbbing arousal, is enthralling. You are intent on giving into the need you feel burning under his skin – in the desperate grip of his hands as they clutch your curves with every buck and roll of your hips over him.

Having this little moment of paradise with each other only stokes the blazing desire to quickly sweep up between you, and you can feel Javi's muscles begin to tense under your palms – see how lustrous and dark his eyes have gone with lust.

So, you mewl, "Dámelo, mi amor," as you start to ride him hard, the way you know drives him wild. "I want it, Javi—"

The world spins when Javi sits up and rolls so you're on your back while he looms over you and seats his thumb over the hood of your clit, grinding the thrumming pleasure point deftly and getting you there with him just as his cock starts to swell inside of you.

Your cry of ecstasy is pitched and airy as you come, walls fluttering around him just as he feels the tether of pleasure snap loose in his center. Rapt with delirious bliss, you watch Javi pull out of your drenched heat and stroke himself off to spill his release over your womb and taut tummy as he groans hoarsely from the dizzying effort of staying propped above you while his senses buzz.

When he curls down to sidle next to you with a husky, "Oh fuck," between panting breaths, you smile and cuddle close. "That…that was fucking hot, querida."

Letting out a pleased grunt, you absently trail your fingertips in the pearly essence he left on your skin, before lulling your head to nose into his neck and tut, "It's a naughty getaway. Of course it'd be hot, chulito."

He snorts at that and kisses on you dotingly before shimmying his trunks back up and using the damp towel he'd dried off with earlier to wipe up his cum, then swiping the terrycloth material between your thighs gingerly. You gorgeously smile up at him from heavy-lidded eyes and blushed features as he tends to you, so he kisses your cheek and whispers tenderly, "Wanna lounge for a bit?"

You nod, close your eyes and sigh whimsically, completely uncaring that you're still in the nude. Javi gives a cautionary glance around before laying on his side in a strategic way that allows his broad frame to keep you blocked from view before he stretches out next to you and rests his head on his folded arm.

Thanks to the sun moving in the sky, you both end up napping in the heat-kissed shade, lulled into relaxation by the sound of the waves and the rustling of the palms from the tropical breeze.

When he wakes a short while later, he ends up appreciatively staring at your placid expression. He wishes he could take a picture, and snickers at the thought of your appalled reaction of being snapped in the nude like this.

Your skin is warm as he drapes a towel over your form, which stirs you awake. And when you stare up at him with a sleepy smile, he leans down and kisses you tenderly on the lips before helping you sit up to cuddle into his side as you get your bearings.

Seeing the sun beginning to wane towards the horizon, you both decide to throw your clothes back on and pack up everything so you can make the trek back along the path to the car while it's still light out. You're both pleasantly tan and content as you walk through the lush greenery, and once you're back at the beach cruiser, Javi stores the cooler in the trunk and helps you climb up into the driver's seat before getting in on the passenger's side.

It feels wonderfully surreal that you got to spend the day with him like this, and the giddy contentment of it flutters up from your tummy as you drive and banter in flirty repartee – with every smile and laugh he lets loose.

After getting back to the metropolitan area, you drive to the rental shop, drop off the beach cruiser and get everything into your sedan before Javi chivalrously offers to drive you both home.

The sunset has already come and gone by the time he's pulling up into his driveway and parking behind his car.

Once you've both exited and tend to the beach items in your care, Javi stretches his back as he remarks, "Shit, I am beat."

"It was all the swimming against the waves," you reply while pulling out the blanket from the beach to shake it loose of any sand over the grassy side lot of the fenced in yard from the inside of the marquesina.

With the cooler in his hand, Javi shuts the trunk and rounds the car to walk up to the interior of the garage as you continue shaking out the towels of sand before following him up once he's unlocked the door.

Smugly, he drawls, "That, and all the sun. Not to mention the hot little number—"

His charming gloat becomes a grunt when you pat his tush for him to quit talking filth so you can take your tired self and mosey into the house.

"I'm going to run everything in the wash, so make sure to drop your trunks in too," you tell him with the blanket bundled in your arm and the beach tote on your shoulder, spritely look in your eyes teasing.

"Alright. I'll do that after I dump the ice out of this," is his baritone rumble as he holds the door open for you.

"Ok. I'll run the shower too once I'm done, if you wanna join?" is your flirty invitation as you prep the washer with everything from the beach day.

"Like you need to ask," he chuckles, pinching your side affectionately before loping down the hall towards the kitchen.

Smiling, you quickly set the machine on its cycle before retrieving your other belongings from the tote and taking it down to the bedroom. Once you've slipped them back into your purse and stored the beach tote on a shelf in the closet, you head to the bathroom to run the shower.

You'd just finished getting the eucalyptus stems down from the shower head to be set aside on the vanity, then started reaching behind yourself to undo the halter drawstring of your dress when you feel Javier come up behind you and caress his touch up your bare back before pulling the fastening loose for you.

His lips graze a teasing path from the back of your shoulder up the slope of your neck as he works the dress down your body to pool at your feet, earning a breathy giggle and for you to take his hands and loop his embrace around your waist.

It's then when he presses flush against you from behind that you feel he's already naked, so you snicker, "Did you strut in the buff through the house?"

"You said to put my swimsuit in the wash, mandona," he purrs puckishly into your ear as he starts herding you towards the shower stall. "C'mon, let's get the saltwater out of our hair."

You merrily oblige your brazen hunk, and soon are under the hot cascade, rinsing the soap and suds from your hair while Javi works his fingers through your waterlogged tresses for you.

"Mmm, your turn," is your blithe sigh as you turn and maneuver around him so he's facing the showerhead. His chuckle is warm as you lather the shampoo into his hair, so you deride, "What's so funny, chavón?"

"I just pictured how silly we probably look right now. With you on your tippy toes, washing my hair for me," is his humored retort, and he makes his point by standing on tiptoe so you have a hard time reaching the crown of his soapy curls.

Scoffing, you playfully swat his bicep and grunt for him to stop being silly. "Pórtate bien, fresco. Or else you're getting a spankin' before bedtime," is your saucy threat.

With an amused snort, he resumes letting you wash his hair, and ends up smirking into the showerhead's spray after you daringly nudge his head into the cascade.

Not to be outdone, Javi shifts carefully around and shakes the excess water logged in his thick hair to splash about, wetting your face and earning a squeal of laughter from you as you try to pinch his sides for him to stop.

"You dork!"

"You missed some suds, baby."

"You're incorrigible!"

"You love it, bravita."

With a haughty huff, you roll your eyes and slick his hair back from his forehead before pouting goofily and conceding, "Dammit, I do."

His laugh fills your chest with joy and makes you wrap your arms around his shoulders so you can kiss his cheek and nuzzle his jaw cutely.

He lets you put conditioner in his hair, but while you slather some into your own, he tries to stifle a yawn as he soaps himself up.

"Alright. My hair's gonna take a while, so you finish up and get the room ready for bed?" you suggest as you dutifully maneuver around again so he can face the cascade.

"Yes, patrona," is his crooning musing as he turns so the water can rain down on the crown of his head before washing down his shoulders and back. "Air on tonight?"

"Yeah," you retort and smile when he slicks the water back from his hair and cups your side so he can lean down and kiss your lips before shimmying by you to open the glass stall door.

"I'll lock up the house too," he remarks as he towels dry before wrapping the fluffy terrycloth around his waist and exiting through the bedroom door of the bathroom.

You're smitten as you luxuriate in the shower for a little longer, and after getting out and combing your hair, you day dream about all the fun spent at the beach with Javi. By the time you're finished blow drying your luscious hair, you are fantasizing about more little getaways with Javi. Driving up to el campo and having a picnic? Would he want to chinchorrear down to the western coast? Oh, maybe we could stay at a bed and breakfast on the beach in the south?

Whimsically thinking of all the possibilities, you hang up your towel and go into the bedroom, expecting to find Javier with a whiskey, lounging in bed while watching the evening news.

Instead, you find him passed out in bed, lying on his back with one arm draped over his stomach – TV remote in hand – and the other jammed behind the pillows his head was propped up against. He didn't even bother with boxers or sleep bottoms, instead looking like he sprawled out on the bed in his birthday suit and tossed the comforter over his lap before exhaustion took a hold of him. The air conditioner's ambient hum and the undulating current of cooled air clearly lulled him to sleep, and you can't help fawn at how peaceful he is in his well-earned slumber, albeit snoring with his mouth open.

You turn off the light of the bathroom before shutting the door and tiptoeing soundlessly to your side of the bed, where he'd left the lamplight on and had a nice glass of water waiting for you.

It makes your heart summersault in your chest. God, I love this man so much.

Slinking into bed with him, you turn off the lamp, gently grab the remote, and shut the TV before pulling the comforter up to cover you both.

With your head resting on his chest, you cuddle into him and melt when he shifts in his sleep so he can wrap his arm around your back and nuzzle the top of your hair. It feels like sheer bliss fills you up, and it's easy for you to relax and fall asleep, heart feeling full and settled.

You both spend Sunday in bed, with meals shared over the covers breaking up the moments of carnal delight underneath the covers.

By the time the work week begins, you're both refreshed, albeit suntanned, when you return to your hectic schedules.

Javier gets razzed by Steve for looking like he spent the weekend 'canoodling under the sun' with you, and he tells you about it while he makes dinner later that night.

Once midweek comes around, you're telling Javi about the barbecue plans for Saturday, and he passes it along to Steve the following morning while they're walking back to their office. Since work travel was over for the next few weeks, and everyone was finally recovered from the flu, you, Anita and Connie had agreed that it seemed like the perfect time to all get together and socialize around a grill in a shady backyard, with drinks and delicious dishes.

"That'll be nice. I'll get Connie to make her famous mac n'cheese, and I got my mom's succotash recipe," Steve volunteered to Javier, looking forward to unwinding over good food and drinks with Connie and other adults without chatter about work or reruns of Barney the Dinosaur for a change.

Making it to the end of the busy week, you don't even realize you've put all previous worries and stresses out of your mind completely. Instead, you're looking forward to asking Javi if he got the email invitation to the gala you'd mentioned the week prior.

After you both get home to his place, you go to his bedroom to get out of your work outfit while you eagerly tell him about the details for the ritzy shindig.

"—Oh, I don't use that thing. I have my admin or Segarra review messages and let me know."

"Ugh, really? You have a state-of-the-art laptop, Javier. Don't tell me you're gonna keep dodging using it—"

"Maybe I'd bother with it, after some tutoring from the sexy director who makes it look oh-so-easy to use—"

Exhaling dramatically to keep from laughing while you're unbuttoning your blouse, you prod, "So? Does that mean you weren't informed of the gala's details?"

Rolling up his shirt sleeves before plunking himself down on the bed, he knowingly asks, "You really wanna go to that?"

Pausing in undressing the rest of your work ensemble off, you frown. "You don't want to?"

"Oh, I do. I'm just surprised you want to go together. Making it public and all," is his smartass, albeit goading purr as he reclines on the bed with his hands folded behind his head. "We haven't told Mercer—"

Deciding two can play this instigating game, you scathe smoothly, "We haven't had a chance to, seeing as you're the one that's been busy and traveling."

Javi's lips snap shut into a pout, brows knitting together peevishly, because you are absolutely right.

"And anyway…we don't need his permission or blessing. Telling him would be a courtesy," you state charmingly as you finish stripping out of your fitted slacks, tossing them aside in the hamper with your matching blouse before going to the foot of the bed and crawling over to prowl towards him in only your black bra and panty set. His pout melts into that chiseled expression of want when you loom over him before plucking one of his shirt buttons undone as you chime, "That's if he hasn't heard any rumors already."

Humming, Javi sits up so he can tow you to lounge next to him as he pivots onto his hip.

You smirk coquettishly at him as he possessively caresses his hand along the curve of your derrière before grumbling, "The rumors from before, or are there ones about us being together now?"

"Well, definitely about us being secretly together back at the embassy. I'm actually not very sure if there are rumors about us being together currently," is your frank retort as you toy with undoing the rest of his shirt's buttons.

"I know one asshole who knows about us and doesn't care," Javi grouses in a surly tone, and at your curious hum, he huffs, "That Bozzi guy, the head of the FBI down here?"

Expecting you to tut and chastise him for being unjustifiably jealous, Javi's instead surprised when you scoff and ridicule, "Ugh, he is so insufferable! Is that why he's been laying it on so thick? Some macho bravado thing where he's trying to woo me or something?"

"…Wait. He's tried to flirt with you?" Javier growls, expression etching with aggravation.

You sigh, knowing he's going to get ornery now, but figure it was your own fault for even instigating the conversation. "Yes, but he's been overly friendly since I started working at the federal building," you tell him, seeing his nostrils flare crossly from his exhale as his temper starts to boil, so you quickly redirect, "Wait, how do you know he's onto us and doesn't care?"

Glowering, Javi admits, "That prick was overheard telling Vernon, from the ATF, that you'd caught his eye and he'd be trying to romance you. When Vernon told him you were already spoken for as far as he'd heard, Bozzi told him that there wasn't a ring on your finger so you were fair game…"

At hearing that, instead of being outraged, you burst into laughter. "What?! I'm "fair game"?! What a chauvinist," you heckle humorously and shake your head before noticing Javier's not amused. "Ay, Javi. You're really jealous over that fool?" is your sassy huff before you nudge his shoulder and bossily assure, "Quit being surly and listen! Now that I know he's flirting me up for sport and to be disrespectful of our relationship, I'll put him in his place the next time he tries to fish and banter."

Cracking a smile, Javi gruffly drawls, "It might be safer to just put a ring on your finger, guapita."

Mirthfully, you laugh – obviously not even reading much into the ring suggestion being anything more than repartee, and snicker with effervescent charm, "And miss out on the satisfaction of wiping that cocky smirk from his face?"

"I'd much rather be the one to do that, with my fist," he counters with a rugged baritone that makes a little thrill skitter up your spine, combined by his dark brewed eyes pinning you with a purposeful look. "Anyway…next time I'm in the federal building for the week, we'll go meet with Mercer."

Smiling, you fold your arms along his shoulders and lean into him as you purr, "Ok, gruñón. Sounds like a plan," before kissing him sultrily on the lips.

The next morning is spent running around doing errands before heading to your apartment after spending the whole week at Javier's. You both lug everything up from your carport spot and stop at the lobby so you can pick up any deliveries from your unit's mail slot, then head into the elevator together.

"—We don't have to spend the whole week at my place, babe. I just want to tend to things I neglected," you're telling him after the elevator doors open to your floor and you both exit with everything in hand.

"I'm fine with alternating. Plus with that gala at the end of next week, it'll be easier to go there from here," Javi is assuring as you unlock the door and enter your apartment.

You put the two grocery bags and stack of mail you were carrying onto the kitchen counter. "Yeah, it's going to be at El San Juan Hotel," you tell him as you start to put away the perishable items and leave out the ingredients for the food you'd be making to take over to the barbecue in the afternoon. Rounding the counter, you kick your shoes off next to the stool and pad barefoot over to play the messages left on your answering machine before going back to the kitchen to get the big pitcher you use to water your plants.

Javier dutifully carries the big bag of toiletries he bought at the grocery store so he didn't have to keep living out of his travel bag at your place, and lopes down the hall with it. His duffle is filled with new clothes to leave at your place in hung on his shoulder, and he's carefully carrying the dry-cleaning you picked up on the way over while balancing the shopping bag. He tosses the duffle onto the bed and shifts the bag in one arm as he's hanging the dry-cleaning up in the closet, all while listening to your answering machine play through the messages down the hall.

"—Mija, hope all is well. I should be home in a few weeks, but was hoping to check in and see how you're doing. Give me a call when you can," he hears your father's deep baritone voice echo from the living room, along with your musing sigh as you close the sliding door after watering your plants in order to go into the kitchen cabinet for the pots and pans that you'll need.

"You gonna call him back?" Javi calls out as he carries the bag into the bathroom in order to unpack the toiletries.

"When are you going to call your father, mister?" you razz right back, but he can hear the grin in your voice.

"Maybe tomorrow," Javi answers, smiling at your musing singsong of a hum as he opens the medicine cabinet and places his shaving cream, razor handle and replacement heads in, followed by his aftershave. "Probably call him in the evening, since he'll likely be coming back from Sunday dinner at my aunt's," is his remark as he continues storing his shampoo and soap on the rack in the shower stall, then goes to store his cologne and deodorant on the vanity before opening the small drawer next to the sink counter in order to place the set of clippers he'd bought to trim his moustache with, along with the second hair comb that came in the packaging with the main comb he'd just placed in the cylindrical holder with your hairbrush.

But then his attention pauses on the item that's already in the drawer, making all thoughts skid to a halt.

"That sounds nice. I might wait to call mine, though," you remark out loud after the answering machine starts playing the next message.

While it does so, and you listen to the caller hesitate before hanging up – which triggers you to remember the same thing had happened weeks ago, Javier is picking up the circular plastic case from the drawer before opening it to look at the birth control pill pack within.

His heart skips a beat and adrenaline races through his bloodstream at seeing the month supply of pills was intact, save for a week and two days' worth of pills missing; the plastic confines of which were popped empty. Javi wracks his brain, trying to remember the last time he saw you reach into your purse for your contraceptives, or whenever you'd taken one of the little rounded pills with a glass of water.

Dimly, he realizes that he cannot recall a single time seeing you take the pill since he'd been on the island.

"—Hola, nena. Call me when you get this. Rafa wants our help ring shopping for Naida! Let me know what day works for you. Llámame, bye!" Zoraida's voice chipperly directs from the answering machine, which makes you smile and disregard the message before it, and for you to ignore the telemarketer message that starts to play next while you start to prepare the dishes for the barbecue.

"Oh, I forgot to ask! Do you like your potato salad with mayonnaise, or without it?" you call out as you begin to peel the potatoes while the water pot heats on the burner.

Javier is so gob smacked by the discovery of the birth control case and his fruitless attempt to find a date or label that could answer when you stopped taking the pills that it takes his brain a moment to register your question.

"Uh, without! B-But, whatever you feel like making—"

"Ellis likes his with mayonnaise, so I'll just make two; one with, and one without," you assure as you run the sink tap to rinse the potatoes.

Javi nods vacantly, still staring at the birth control, as if the little, different shades of blue pills will reveal to him the answer. She hasn't been here in over a week, so at the very least…

He gulps, realizing that didn't mean you'd forgotten to take them. After all, you'd always kept the case in your purse. The fact it was in the sink vanity's drawer meant something very different.

"Did you find enough drawer space for your stuff?" your voice calls out from the kitchen, snapping Javier out of his ruminating to hurriedly return the birth control case back to the drawer and shut it soundlessly.

You do hear the sound of his footsteps moving in the back of the hall, as if from one room to another, so you deposit the potatoes in the boiling water before striding down to check on him.

"You need me to move anything?" is your query as you round into the doorway of your bedroom and find Javier sorting through his duffle, with a few items set into stacks on the bed already.

He clears his throat before replying, "No, no I think there's plenty of room still in the drawer."

Briskly walking towards your dresser, you open the top drawer and arrange a few items more neatly so there's more storage space. "Just go ahead and use any of the empty space in these to put your folded stuff, and leave any of your shirts on the chair so I can iron them later," is your jovial instruction as you grab a hair scrunchy and quickly twist your hair up into a bun so it's out of the way while you cook.

Javi grunts in acknowledgement and hurriedly dumps the rest of the items in his duffle onto the bed so he can duck out into the closet to store the bag before you turn and notice how addled he looks. "So what time are we going over?" he asks, weighing his options on whether to confront you about the birth control pills now, or later. Or should he bring it up at all? Should he wait for you to tell him what's going on?

"I figure as soon as the food is ready and I can pack it for the drive over? So, about an hour or so?" you reply as you go to open the windows in your bedroom to have the air flow increase and cool the space. "I just want to stop at Sweet Ann Cakes to pick up a tarta de frutas on the way. Oh! That reminds me, I have to call ahead for it," is your rushed remark as you run to grab the phone from the console in the living room and do just that.

Internally swearing, Javi decides he can't bring it up. Not before the barbecue. If at all today.

So, he stews about how to eventually broach the topic while he stores his clothes in the dresser, and his mind spins up with what ifs.

Maybe she's taking a different medication…Or she just takes it at a time I'm not around?

He gulps as the next thought barrels over them all.

What if she's just afraid to tell me…that because of everything that's happened between us, she's scared to tell me she's pregnant?

Just when he feels like he's going to gnaw a raw spot into the inside of his cheek from absently worrying it between his teeth, he hears your footfalls return from the hall.

"Oh, by the way, here."

Javi turns and is surprised to see a set of keys on a hibiscus-shaped keychain ring you hold up and dangle invitingly for him to take.

"Long overdue, especially since I got your house keys without your permission, technically," is your flirty musing, expression open and expectant for his wry comment.

That warm feeling that itches behind his breastbone has him proudly taking the keys before pulling you into his arms and kissing you amorously.

You kiss him with gusto before leaning back and snickering, "Mmm, quit wooing me! I got food on the stove," and affectionately squeezing his waist before rushing to sprint back down to the kitchen with, "Keep unpacking, guapetón."

He manages to keep his anxious thoughts guarded after that, easily maintaining them while you're busying yourself in the kitchen. Then, whilst he dutifully carries the packed dishes down to the car for you while you rush to finish getting ready, he focuses on feeling proud that you trust him enough to give him the keys to your place. It helps stopping his thoughts from getting preoccupied with the what ifs stampeding through his mind while he drives you to the cute artisanal bakery so you can hurry in and pick up the cake.

"Cooking three dishes should be more than enough for your barbecue contribution, no?" he can't help ask as you unfasten your seatbelt and shoulder your purse.

"It is, but I thought it'd be nice to have something for dessert," you chime lightly before leaning over the center console to kiss his cheek. "Be right back!"

He watches you stride up to the entrance, checking out your denim short-clad ass and the way your hair sways in the wind, black tunic top with red embroidery fluttering with your movements as you go into the shop, and he lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

You'd been looking forward to the gathering for weeks, and when you'd come down to the car in the flirty ensemble, wearing one of your favorite tunic tops? Happy and vibrantly chatting away? His stubborn will cemented his decision, so he internally insisted that he keep it all in check.

Fuck's sake. Do not ruin this day, you jackass.

The mantra is on loop in his head once you come back out with the cake, and the entire drive over to the suburban neighborhood Ellis and Anita live at.

It's a quiet suburb within walking distance of many of the parks in the area, and about twenty minutes west of Javier and Steve's gated neighborhood, and as you direct him down the avenue to turn into the main entrance, he wonders to himself if soon you'll both need to go house hunting for a bigger abode.

"There, that's their place. You can park right behind that car. That's Anita's, and I'm sure she's not going to be driving out," you point and tell him, balancing the boxed-up cake on your lap.

Doing as you directed, Javi quickly parks, turns the car off, and helps you retrieve the food from the backseat.

Anita's already opening the door and hustling out to help before you've both finished closing the car doors.

"Hey, guys! Hold on, let us help. Ellis! Come out and help with the food. Oh, is this the arroz con pollo?! I told you not to go through the trouble, Celina—!"

"Ah, stop. It's no trouble at all!" you convivially dismiss as you kiss her hello on the cheek.

"Score! You brought that delicious cake too?!" you hear Ellis cheer affably as he comes over and grabs one of the totes housing the two versions of potato salad before clapping Javier on the shoulder in greeting. "You spoil us."

"Nah, that's all her," Javi chuckles and nods towards you before kissing Anita hello on the cheek and grabbing the boxed cake from you chivalrously so he can carry it in for you.

You can't help check him out as he chats with Ellis and walks towards the entrance, loving how those blue 'fuck me' jeans sculpt to his ass and his long legs, and how the soft yellow button-down shirt clings to his broad shoulders while the sleeves hike up his muscular biceps.

Anita catches your eye and wiggles her brows knowingly at you, so you stifle a giggle and nudge her to walk ahead of you.

Once you're all inside the air-conditioned single-story home, Javier is offered a beer and ushered out to the back patio where the grill is and the adjacent sitting area where Anita's parents are. After you and Anita store the food to stay warm on the stove and put the cake box in the fridge, you go out and join the boys as Javier is politely shaking hands with Anita's folks.

After greeting them as well, you dramatically turn towards your friends. "And where is the cutie?" you inquire and make grabby hands, as if to say, 'I want to see the baby.'

"Oh, come inside. She's down for her nap," Anita cheerily replies and gestures for you and Javi to follow her. "Steve and Connie should be here soon with the kids. Do you think Olivia will like the swing set?"

"I guess we'll find out," Javi drawls irreverently as he puts his beer down on the patio table, cups your lower back and ushers you through the sliding door while you both follow your friend towards the side of the house with the bedrooms.

As you walk by a credenza that's against the wall across from the space between the living room and kitchen, you notice the big flower arrangement you'd let Ellis take for Valentine's was set behind some framed photos among the pretty artisan crafts from Colombia that decorated the table top.

"Wow, those flowers are pretty," you point out, admiring how many of the blooms from the original bouquet were still thriving.

"Aren't they so lovely!? Ellis surprised me with that arrangement for Valentine's Day," she practically swoons, smiling brightly as you expertly feign like it was the first time that you'd seen the lavish bouquet.

Javier realizes that is the arrangement that was sent to you anonymously at the office, and it makes his hackles rise, knowing someone was vying for your affection with such an ostentatious gift. But, before he can comment, he notices one of the picture frames houses a photo of you and another man, stood side-by-side under what looks like the crossing of a church – with the altar in the background, and an adorable looking baby dressed in white cradled in your arms.

"Who's that?" Javi finds himself asking as he points at the tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed attractive man.

Anita squints knowingly over at you while she answers, "Oh, that's Ellis' little brother, Trevor. He and Celina are Delilah's godparents."

"Hmph," Javi hums tactfully before grunting at your wry elbow to his side.

"No te pongas celoso, querido."

"He's got his arm around you, though."

"For the picture, obviously!"

Laughing, Anita assures, "Don't worry, Javi. Trevor was interested, but Celina turned him down—"

"Anita!" you exclaim admonishingly and scoff when she innocently shrugs.

Javi showily puts his arm around your shoulders and puckishly mutters, "See? I'm justified."

"Hush, chavón. You're holding up the tour," is your quippy lilt as you loop your arm around his waist and squeeze with mischievous affection.

Getting to the end of the hall and opening the door quietly, you both follow Anita into the darkened bedroom towards the baby's crib. Javi smiles warmly when you lean down and brush the wispy curls framing her ear, smitten with how your eyes fill with nothing but doting sweetness for the little one. It makes heat bristle in his apex and something fledgling quiver in his chest.

Cautiously exiting the bedroom to not stir the baby, you all walk back to the patio while you and Anita gush about how cute Delilah is.

"—She's finally sleeping better, which is a relief. Ellis wants to take her to Sears and get her pictures done, but I think she's still too small for all that," Anita is telling you both as you walk out to rejoin the others.

"Give it a month or two, and then she should be big enough to pose for a photoshoot!" Ellis insists affably as he hands Javier back his beer before tending to the grill while remarking, "Got about an hour on the drumsticks, but the ribs are almost ready. I got a few steaks we can throw on later, too."

The doorbell chimes from inside the house, so Anita rushes to answer the front door, and returns a few minutes later with the Murphys in tow.

"What, you running on Puerto Rican time now?" Javier can help razz as he sets his beer aside and says hello to Connie before pulling out a patio chair for her.

"Yeah, right. Isabel spilled a whole sippy cup's worth of juice all over herself right as we were getting her in the car seat," Steve laments while the baby in his arm happily tugs on the front of his red polo's collar.

Since he had the baby's carrier in his other hand, Connie was carrying the diaper bag and a tote with all the potluck dishes she'd made, while Olivia carried her latest favorite dolly.

"Aww. Well you made in just in time," you chime as you kiss Steve hello on the cheek and smile at the baby before greeting Connie in the same fashion.

Ellis greets them in turn before Anita helps divest them of the dishes and sets up a spot for the carrier while you and Javi introduce the Murphys to Anita's parents.

"Mami, can I go on the swing?" Olivia asks, big brown eyes pleading as Connie hurriedly tries to brush her hair from her face after placing the heavy diaper bag down on the patio chair for now.

"Have you said hello to everyone first?" is her motherly retort as she pulls her periwinkle blouse's hem down and smoothens out her light wash jean shorts from rolling up her thighs.

Dutifully, Olivia goes up to Javi and waves for him to lean down so she can kiss him on the cheek. "Hi!" and then scampers over to do the same with you before going to the other adults and waving hello. "Can you push me on the swing?" she asks Javi after scampering back towards him from placing her dolly on a patio chair.

"Sure thing," he warmly retorts before gesturing for you to come along as he offers, "I can push you both. As high as you want."

Snickering, you joke, "Only if I get to push you later."

"Fine by me," Javi drawls charismatically.

"Sit and take a load off, you two," Anita insists amiably to the Murphys, setting out the appetizers and refreshments for everyone to enjoy.

"I wish I had a swing set at home."

"I thought you liked going to the park?"

"I do, but I wish I had a swing set and a playhouse. Some of my friends at school have them in their backyard. Do you have a swing where you live, Celina?"

"I don't, so this is fun," you reply to the little girl as you both swing along while Javi pushes you both gently, at the same time.

While you three are at the swing set, you don't realize Connie has pulled Steve's camera out from the diaper bag and silently cajoled him to switch giving her Isabel for it so he can snap a few pictures of you three having fun.

Just as Anita and Ellis are answering questions about where they got the backyard set, the sudden sound of staticky crying filters over from the baby monitor they'd set out on one of the outdoor accent tables by the sliding door. Anita goes inside to check on the baby while Ellis keeps the conversation going.

"—Lucked out today. Just sunny and breezy. Perfect grillin' weather," is his musing, sipping from his beer before asking, "Oh, does Olivia like hot dogs? I have some I can throw on the grill."

"You hungry, Olivia?" Steve shouts over at the precocious girl who is swinging a little higher than he expected. "Take it easy, Jav!"

"What? She asked to go higher," Javier retorts while Olivia lets out a conspiratorial giggle.

"Javi, más suave," you amusedly tut at him, so he chivalrously guides Olivia's swing to slow its momentum a bit, before naughtily pushing you higher. "Javier!"

He laughs and quickly takes hold of your seat to help slow the momentum for you, and you have to try to look rueful instead of exhilarated when you turn and glower at him.

"Que malo eres," you snipe humorously under your breath as you leave the swing and pinch his arm lightly.

Olivia parrots, "Javi es malo."

Grinning, you triumphantly watch Javier pout as he litigates to the little girl, "No soy malo de verdad."

"Um, what's that mean?" she pipes as she hops down from the swing seat.

"He's just saying he's not really bad," you answer for him and lean up to kiss him on the cheek. "But he was being a silly brat."

"Hmph," he grumbles wordlessly and pulls a mock frown, which only makes Olivia laugh. "Alright, let's go have snacks."

The little girl marches over to the patio table to do just that, so you flirtatiously wink at Javi and hold your hand out for him. Smirking, he takes it, and you tow him down to join everyone around the table.

Anita emerges from the house with Delilah held in the crook of her arm while she swishes the bottle of baby formula. "Amá, can you take her for me? I want to make drinks for the girls," she asks of her mother.

"Let her madrina have some face time," you volunteer and go over so Anita can hand you the baby and bottle before you sit in the vacant chair adjacent Connie.

"I'll help you with the drinks," Anita's mother offers while she gestures for Javier to sit in her seat. "Do you want anything stronger than beer, you two?" she asks of him and Steve.

"I'm fine with a beer, thank you," Steve assures, and Javi seconds with a nod before reclaiming his own and drinking from it.

"Ellis, I'll grab the hot dogs from the fridge. You watch the grill," Anita's father remarks as he follows them into the house.

While Olivia enjoys the little cheese and crackers from the snack dish, the adults around her chatter conversationally.

As everyone talks about local events, Javi watches you from across the table while you listen and simultaneously feed Delilah her bottle.

Seeing you hold such a small baby, glancing down at her every so, and smiling? It makes something primal and nurturing bloom in his chest. The back of his neck gets hot when he glances over and realizes Steve's caught him staring at you, so he sits up straighter and drinks a long pull from his beer.

By the time the hot dogs are on the grill and the tray of frozen drinks has come out to the table, you're already burping the baby, gently patting her back while cradling her to your shoulder.

"Oop, 'scuse you," you mumble sweetly to the baby when she lets out a hiccup of a burp and yawns against your shoulder. When Anita sits next to you and slides over the frozen cocktail to you, you reluctantly hand Delilah back. "Dito, she's already sleepy."

"Yeah, but trust me – it won't last for long," Anita sighs as she rocks the baby in her arms. "I made you a daiquiri, but let me know if you'd prefer a margarita—"

"Ah, no way! No tequila drinks for me," you exclaim and shake your head before sipping from the fruity daiquiri.

"Are you allergic to tequila?" Connie asks before thanking Ellis for the plate of hotdogs she begins to dutifully cut into smaller morsels for Olivia.

"No, I don't think so, but the last time I had it, I got so sick, I couldn't get out of bed for almost two days," you explain, grimacing at the mere recall. "I swore to never have tequila again after that."

Cataloguing that in his personal record of knowledge about your likes and dislikes, Javier remarks coolly to the group, "She's a Cuba Libre gal, anyway."

"Hah, remember when the fellas at Mil Group used to call you Miss Cuba Libre?" Ellis chuckles as he rotates some of the drumsticks.

"Actually, that was you and Samson who came up with that," you counter aloofly before realizing you've mentioned the former field operations analyst in Javier's presence.

"What's a Cuba Libre?" Olivia pipes up before eating a piece of hotdog she's just dipped in ketchup.

"It's a tropical drink only for grown-ups," Javier answers as he steals a piece of hotdog from her plate, popping it in his mouth and chewing with gusto while he squints goofily at her.

You internally breathe a sigh of relief at Javi's unruffled demeanor.

Since there aren't enough seats around the patio table, you get up and offer yours to Ellis once the ribs are ready and he's serving them.

"I'm going to pace myself for the barbecue chicken," you tell him as you go sit on the swing.

Javier gets up from his seat, remarking, "And I'm leaving room for the steak," as he goes over to sit on the swing next to you, eyeing you charmingly as he croons, "Still up for pushing me?"

Snickering, you go to stand behind him, and with all your might, you push him by the center of his back to get the momentum forward to swing.

The swing set protests with squeaks the more Javi gains speed, and you can't help deride, "Uh oh, I think you exceed the size limit for this, chulito."

As he swings backwards, he deliberately leans back so he can taunt in a gravelly pitch, "Wouldn't be the first time, preciosa."

You laugh in that scandalized, yet tickled way he loves before swatting his shoulder and hissing conspiratorially, "No seas fresco."

Digging his boot heels into the soft grass, he stops swinging and sits on the seat before guiding you to move around in order to swoop you into sitting across his lap.

Holding you to him, he kisses your cheek, and whispers in your ear, "I'm already doing a lot to control myself, guapita. But you're making it very hard."

The apples of your cheeks heat up at the double entendre, especially when all your friends are not even ten feet away.

You turn your head and angelically smile before pecking him chastely on the lips. "Behave, or else you're getting punished when we get home," is your murmured whisper, seductive tone not matching your serene smile.

You stand and strut back to the table, leaving Javier to pine for you before going to join Ellis and Steve by the beer cooler.

Once the rib appetizer has been partaken in, Ellis gets back to the grill to work on the next round of meat while you go with Connie inside to help retrieve all the side dishes.

Taking the baby so Anita can help hand out plates and cutlery, Ellis holds her in the crook of his arm while Steve and Javi go to the cooler and crack open another round of beers for the men.

The breeze in the shady backyard has dissipated by the time Ellis is planning on throwing on the seasoned cuts of steak to the grill, and just as he's about to ask Anita to take the baby, she's come out with them on a glass bake dish and sets it on the grill's side table.

"Ugh, the bugs are coming out now. Come, let's eat at the table inside," Anita directs, so you all collect the plates and platters to do just that.

"Ah, crap. I forgot to bring back out the barbecue and steak sauce," Ellis grumbles, quickly turning to see everyone but he and Javier have moseyed into the house already. So, without batting an eye, he pivots towards the other man and practically bestows the docile baby at a surprised Javier, who clumsily takes her in a broad-armed cradle as Ellis rushes out, "Here, hold her for a sec while I run in and whip the sauce up for the drumsticks. I'll be right back!"

At being in an unfamiliar hold, Delilah squirms and looks up at Javier, almost questioningly.

"It's ok. I got you," he tells her in a soft, cooing tone to quiet her fussing while he carefully rocks her.

Inside the house, you're just finishing pointing out to everyone which of the casserole dishes is the potato salad with mayonnaise when you hear Steve chuckle as he steps back out through the sliding door, and jokes, "She's looking grumpy there, Jav. Maybe don't hold her like a bomb that's about to go off."

You look in direction of the patio and see Javier holding Delilah while shooting a laconic look at Steve before he adjusts the way his arms are cradled to better hold the baby, nestling her close to his chest.

The sight of him standing broad-shouldered and tall, with the gentle smile on his face as he looks down at the baby when she grabs a little fistful of his yellow shirt? Watching as the nervous tension melts from his posture as he rocks the baby and chats with Steve? It makes a fluttering ache fizzle up in your core before your heart winces at the thought you've tried to bury deep.

He'd make a wonderful father. But you won't be able to do that for him.

The sting of tears threatens to crest up in you, but you take a cleansing breath and distract yourself with cleaning up the kitchen counter while everyone else is busy serving food and settling to sit at the table, chatting away.

Meanwhile, Javier is keeping his attention on the little baby while Steve peppers him with questions.

"—So you're definitely going to that gala together?"

"That's the plan."

"But you haven't disclosed it to Mercer yet."

"Nope."

"Do you plan on doing that before the party?"

"I was planning to the next time it's my turn to be at the building."

"Hm. You ever gonna get around to putting a ring on her finger?"

"…You're lucky I'm holding this baby, and can't swear at you right now."

"I know. That's why I brought it up."

Sighing, Javi glances at his buddy. "I've been thinking about it. But I told you – I've got no clue what to get her. And I feel like I gotta do a few things first before I can make the move," is his honest retort.

"Like what?" Steve asks before drinking his beer.

"Get things on solid ground between us. There's still a lot of making up I gotta do after Colombia…" is his musing, pausing before adding, "I also want to ask permission."

"…From who?" Steve grunts before asking, "Her dad?"

"Yeah. Before, when they weren't on speaking terms still, I had wanted to ask her grandmother for her blessing…but I didn't get a chance to. Now, that they've mended their relationship, I feel like I should go to him and ask," he explains, and at Steve's quirked brows, he grumbles, "It sounded like it was important, within the family. I don't want to cause friction between them, and my track record isn't great—"

"Getting the presumptive father-in-law to like you, you mean?" Steve rasps in a knowing drawl, hand shoved into his pocked while he swigs his beer with the other one.

Delilah yawns and wriggles in his arms, so Javi quips, "Even she's bored of you, Captain Obvious."

Ellis returns with his secret barbecue sauce then, so they drop the topic and strike up convo with the man as he works on the grill.

When the boys come back into the house with the tray piled high with meat a little while later, they find everyone merrily chatting while Isabel sleeps in her carrier and Olivia is wrapped in her coloring book, sat on the stool at the counter.

Anita takes Delilah from Javier and goes to check her diaper before putting her down for a nap while the buffet-style dinner commences. By the time she comes back, she sets the baby monitor on the kitchen counter and joins everyone in food and banter.

Eventually, with the kids preoccupied, the adults talk about current world events, and during coffee and dessert, the conversation turns to 'the trial of the century,' of which you hadn't been paying much attention to.

"—Whole new meaning to 'the Juice is loose,' I say. The guy is totally guilty," Ellis is wisecracking, to Anita's wry chagrin.

"Ay, you and that trial," is her chastising huff before she takes a bite of the delicious cake you brought over. "You all haven't been watching it, right?"

"Only the nightly news recaps, after we put the kids to bed," Connie replies as she sips her coffee.

"It seems like a pretty open and shut case," Steve remarks conversationally as he contemplates having another slice of the scrumptious cake.

"Do you think so?" Anita's father asks Javi, glancing at you too as he remarks, "We've heard a lot of people believe otherwise."

"Honestly, I don't know enough about it. When we get home, we're usually so preoccupied with other things that we usually only have enough energy left to watch local news together," is Javi's loaded, smug comment, to which you scoff and swat his thigh haughtily while he cockily stays reclined in his seat, with his arm along the back of your chair.

Everyone exchanges chuckles before changing the conversation to other topics.

By the end of the early evening, you're all packing up leftovers to take home before exchanging praise over the food shared, and thanking the Roses for hosting the barbecue.

"—Wanna go shopping this week? I don't have a dress I can fit in for the gala," Anita asks you and Connie as the men stow things in the cars.

"Sure. I have a dress in mind for it already, but I was thinking of getting a different pair of shoes for it," you tell them, and after some more chit chat on the way to the front yard, you all make shopping plans for after work later in the week.

Saying goodbye to everyone, you and Javier drive home to your place, warmly chatting about how nice the gathering was, and how you should all make future plans to hang out like that again.

By the time you get to your condo, you and Javi are getting a second wind, so when you walk in, you're tossing your purse on the counter and kicking your strappy leather sandals off, padding barefoot to the sideboard as you chime, "—Ah, it's still early. Want to have drinks on the balcony? It's so nice out."

"Sure," he retorts as he locks the door and slides the keys onto the bartop counter while going to store the leftovers into the fridge. As he does so, he watches you retrieve a bottle of his favorite whiskey and your preferred rum, placing them on the glass table so you can push the vertical blinds aside to open the sliding balcony door and let the cool evening breeze in. With a wry smirk, he irreverently asks, "Want me to make yours, Miss Cuba Libre?"

Biting your bottom lip and coquettishly looking back at him, you drawl coyly, "I was worried that might've annoyed you. I didn't mean to—"

Frowning, Javier walks over and cups his hands at your hips. "Hey, it didn't bother me. I was only teasing, querida," is his earnest insistence. The genuine concern in his eyes makes you pout, so he kisses your lips before taunting, "And I remember a time you swore you didn't like apodos."

Scoffing girlishly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him back before grousing, "Yeah, well, you had your own nickname, Mister Guapo Descarado."

Chuckling ruggedly, he squeezes you affectionately before grabbing the bottles of liquor to go make your drinks in the kitchen. As he grabs two glasses from the cupboard, he glances over at you while asking unabashedly, "Who came up with that one?"

Smiling, you slide the screen door open and lean against the frame as you answer, "That was what Marisol and the girls called you. And based on all the gossip I'd heard? It seemed quite fitting."

"Great," he laconically drawls as he walks over with your drinks. "I swear. Half of the rumors were bullshit," is his glib aside, handing you the glass and fighting to keep a straight face, especially when you give him that discerning stare. "They were!"

"Ah-hah," you deadpan waggishly before sipping your drink and taking his hand to lead him out to the balcony so you can both enjoy the breeze and the tropical twilight sky over the bright Condado skyline across the laguna.

It felt nice, looking out at the view, with the whiskey warming his bloodstream, and you lovingly embraced against his side. So much so, that when the intrusive thoughts from earlier stumble up into the forefront of his mind – Shit, she wouldn't have a drink if she knew she was pregnant! – Javier almost vehemently dismisses them.

But then, the vision of you, holding the baby – of how sweet and doting you were with her nestled in your arms – digs loose that anxious pang from earlier.

"Celina…" he begins, and when you turn to stare with open attention up at him, he wavers. "I—I uh…"

Blinking curiously, you set your drink aside on the small, circular, mosaic-tiled patio table tucked in the corner of the balcony where you're standing so you can place your hands reassuringly at his chest as you ask, "What? What's the matter?"

Fuck. Real smooth. Javi grouses at himself before exhaling noisily. Deciding he has to just come out with it, he downs his glass of whiskey before setting aside on the table. Steeling himself, he breathes out through his nose before resting his hands at your waist in order to ground himself.

"Earlier today, while I was putting my stuff away, I went to put something in your vanity drawer," he tells you, and at your expression shuttering in from the mention of the drawer, he continues, "I saw the birth control case. And I looked inside…"

Your heart drops.

Instantly, your eyes begin to well with tears, and Javi is startled by your reaction, so he quickly comforts, "Mi amor, don't get upset. I didn't mean to snoop, but I couldn't help looking. It's alright. We've talked about it, remember? We'll figure it out together—"

Realizing what he's saying – that he thinks the pills were discarded in the drawer because you're secretly pregnant? It hits you hard.

You bite your lip to stop it from quivering before forcing the tears back down and out from the knot in your throat.

"Javier…it's not like that. I—I have been having problems. Since before we got back together. I…I haven't been menstruating, and for the last few months, I've been doing blood work and check-ups. The doctor told me to get off the pill, to see if that was the cause—if being on it had just prolonged a hormonal imbalance or something, but…I haven't been ovulating. It's still too early… it could be a lingering case of amenorrhea, b-but, there's a possibility that I could be…that I could be infertile."

You brace for his reaction, terrified and ashamed. So much so, you can't even hold his gaze when you say the last part.

But then, Javi cups your cheek and tips your face back up to him.

His dark brown eyes are resolute and filled with composure, and his expression chisels into that semblance that so rarely comes over his countenance, save when you're both in bed, in post-coital repose.

"Querida, I'm so sorry you've been dealing with this alone. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" When you hesitate, and your eyes fill up with tears again, he realizes why. "You thought it would change how I feel?"

The tears overflow past your lashes, unbidden, and you nod before stifling a sob into the back of your hand.

"Celina," he husks and hugs you, overcome by your reaction, and holds you tight, nuzzling the top of your hair and trying to regain his composure. As soon as he does, he finds the steady voice he needs to declare, "Nothing will ever make me change the way I feel about you. I love you. I just want us to be together, whatever way possible. Being with you, and making you happy is everything I care about. All we need is each other. To love each other, nothing else."

You sob and melt into his embrace at his words, feeling like you've been delivered by his unwavering love and grace.

"I love you with all my heart, Javi. I j-just want to m-make you happy—to make a life with you. To g-give you love and a life you want, and t-that matters—" you stammer through tears, and Javi derails your cracking admittance by tipping your face up to him.

"I have it. Right here and now. Whatever happens, we have each other. All that matters to me, is what we have," he passionately conveys, voice going hoarse as he proclaims, "I love you. Solo te quiero a ti por toda mi vida. And all I want is to be with you."

He wipes the tears away from your cheeks, his expression open and genuine as you breathlessly smile before hugging him with palpable yearning.

Feeling you tremble, Javi effortlessly picks you up and carries you into the apartment and down the hall to your bedroom.

Wanting to comfort you, he intended to just lay you down and cuddle close, but you're raw with emotion, and longingly kiss him, mewling softly into his mouth. When he claims yours rapaciously while stripping your clothes off, piece by piece, your hands hurriedly unbutton his shirt, tug at his belt buckle, and unfasten his jeans while he kicks his boots off and clambers with you onto the bed.

His warm skin and spicy scent have your senses buzzing, making you needy and wet before he's even bared you completely and settled between your welcoming thighs.

Javier shudders as your hands cling to his back while your teeth graze down his shoulder, making lust and savage desire burn through him and throb beseechingly to be inside you.

With how emotionally raw and hyper-aroused you are, the feeling of his cock notching at your dimpled entrance makes you quiver and whimper, nipples taut and tingling as he suckles hard on one and then the other. His mouth is hot and possessive as he rakes it up to trail dizzying desire through you as it charts possessively up your neck while his cock punches a deep thrust into your molten sheath before stroking all the way out and slamming back in to the hilt.

Your cry of pleasure is devoured by his mouth claiming yours, and the more he fucks into you, the more ravenous and besotted his pace becomes, until it steals his breath and he has to growl your name against your neck.

"Celina—!"

Spun up by the onslaught of sensations and feelings, you cling to him and beg, "Please, Javi. P-Please!"

The tears in your wavering whimper snap him back into control, and he slows his rapaciousness, focusing on taking you apart with the fill of his cock in your fluttering cunt while caressing your flushed features and kissing the tears away.

Voice hoarse with emotion, Javi croons softly, "I got you. Just you and me. Let go, cariño. You don't have to hold onto it. Let me have it. Nothing else matters. It's just you and me. I love you—"

That's when you do, letting go of all the angst, fear, shame, and heartache of possibly losing him. Of losing a life you didn't know you wanted for him – that you were not be able to give to him. To mourn the possibility of a life you'd never known you wanted for yourself.

When you have no more tears, he rests his forehead to yours and lets you get your bearings, focusing on your calming breath and easing trembling.

"Javi."

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

He opens his eyes and stares deeply into your glossy ones, and sees the palpable feeling you just professed shining in them.

You make love to each other, carnally honed into everything you can only say to each other physically.

The throes of pleasure speak volumes for how you feel, and when you both reach bliss together, you're unable to do anything else but curl into each other and kiss before Javi protectively wraps you up in his arms.

His heart beats strong with yours, and everything in him is at peace, knowing there's nothing else that can hurt you. That you love him enough to want to protect him from even the perceived thought that you couldn't give him a life that neither of you even knew you'd wanted until the prospect showed itself looking up at you both, with sweet innocence, earlier that day.

Knowing that you're enough – that Javi wants a life with you, regardless of any obstacles, was a salve to your raw psyche after harboring the fear for so long.

It's just us. Our love is all that matters.

As you both drift to sleep, only serenity and love fill the atmosphere for you, and the tethering feeling that settles between you helps keep hope grounded in your hearts for all that there is still to come.

The turmoil that awaits you both is nothing either of you see coming, however.

  ________________

Spanish-English Glossary:

Colmadito = Grocery shop; similar to a bodega; community foodstuff store

Coquí = Puerto Rican tree frogs; they croak 'coquí', hence their name

Urbanizacíon = Urbanization; housing development

Mi cariñito = My sweet little darling

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

No te he dado de alta = I haven't discharged you

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Mi amor = My love

Mandona = Bossy lady

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Galán = Handsome gent

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

Autopista = Freeway; highway

Pendejo = Dumbass/Jackass

Siempre a la órden = Always at your service

Puto = Fucking; male whore; slut

Congrí = Cuban dish made of black beans and rice with bacon and fragrant spices

Guapetón = Super handsome, good-looking guy

Buen provecho = Bon apetit

Arroz con pollo = Rice with chicken

Carne con papas = Meat with potatoes

Pernil = Roast pork shoulder

Pinche asesinos = Fucking murderers/killers

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Come, gatito = Eat, kitty

Flan de queso = Cheese flan; Latin American dessert

Perreo = Dance style associated with reggaetón; doggystyle, twerking dance

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Te quiero, mi amor = I love you, my love

Te amo con todo mi corazón = I love you with all my heart

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Frituras = Fritters; tropical turnovers

Playas = Beaches

Suavón = Smooth talker; Smooth guy

Medalla = Popular beer found in Puerto Rico

Canela = Cinnamon

Dámelo, mi amor = Give it to me, my love

Pórtate bien = Behave

Patrona = Madam; boss lady; mistress

El campo = The countryside

Chinchorrear = Slang for going bar-hopping; a chinchorro is a kiosk or dive bar you go to have a few drinks before moving on to the next establishment

Gruñón = Grumpy man

Nena = Girl

Llámame = Call me

Tarta de frutas = A vanilla cheesecake-like cake covered in tropical fruit slices

Más suave = Gentler; Softer

Que malo eres = You're so bad; You're so mean

Javi es malo = Javi is bad

No soy malo de verdad = I'm not bad for real

Amá = Medellín way of referring to 'Ma' or 'Mamá'

Madrina = Godmother

Dito = Short for 'bendito', which is a phrase conveying hopeful lamentation

No seas fresco = Don't be fresh

Apodos = Nicknames

Guapo Descarado = Handsome Cad

Laguna = Lagoon

Solo te quiero a ti por toda mi vida = I only want you for the rest of my life

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful. 

[gretavanfleetposts]

Fire in the Water: Chapter Ten - Part Two

Author's Note: I cannot believe the end is already here. The end of this chapter is very inspired by the song Better by SYML so give that a listen if you want to dive further into my brain. And thank you, thank you all for coming along on the journey with me. It has meant everything to me! And as always, thank you to @gretasmokerising and @earthlysorrows for everything Content Warnings: swearing, talk of the afterlife, death, talk of dead souls, killing (someone straight up turns to dust), penetrative sex (18+ minors do not interact) Word Count: 9.5k

It wasn't easy. You spent days sitting almost completely still in Jake's bed trying to decipher who in the room around you was there in physical form and who was a dead spirit walking. You spent your days tired as your physical form wasn't used to being, well, alive. You weren't meant for the world you were now in and it took its toll.

But even more difficult was the anger growing in your body like wildfire that would catch the moment you bound to Jake and your gifts returned. It was the reason you hadn't yet done it. You knew however much you struggled now, it would be nothing compared to that. And it scared you.

Jake was by your side every instant but without his own gifts, he was punished to sit at your side helplessly, watching the torment flare in your eyes and only ever being able to tell you who was in the corner, if anyone was there at all. It pained him being unable to put you out of your misery and you could guess that it pained him to be unable to put himself out of his misery too.

It was days that you spent wandering around his house silently, trying to remember who you had been, trying to decipher the things around you and the things inside of you. Days you spent trying to piece together memories with Jake’s help, though he couldn’t fill very many gaps for you given the stubbornness you’d lived with the first time you’d been alive. And the longer the days went on, the clearer it became to both of you, although it went unsaid: Sam was the one better suited to help you navigate the situation you now found yourself in. Sam could have given you more answers and more details of your life. Sam could have shut the voices up and cleared the room of all intruders.

The others kept their distance all the while, other than Josh. He was more than happy to recant your relationship and the months you had spent together before your meeting any of the others. His presence alone had warmed you, too, but when he left, the angry voices returned with a vengeance. You were forever connected to a world that you now didn't reside in, stuck in a world that you didn't belong to, and a bridge between the two for all things, evil and vile and sometimes, when you were lucky, benevolent, to pass through.

Endless. It was endless.

Until you overheard the twins speaking in low voices from just beyond Jake's French doors after a particularly bad day that you had spent sleeping through most of, intermittently waking with a scream as a breath that was cold and dead fanned over your face.

Endless.

“I called Sam,” you heard Josh say softly to his brother.

“What the fuck, Josh?”

Jake seemed to forget he was supposed to be quiet and his brother shushed him before explaining himself.

“He has a right to know. She has a right to see him. He was the last person she was with, Jake.”

“She isn't ready.”

“She needs him right now,” Josh answered, hushed but urgent. “We both know it. He was the one who taught her how to be a vampire. He's the one she needs now.”

“Don't you fucking say that. Please don't fucking-don't say that.”

Jake's voice cracked and you could hear the instant sigh it pulled from his twin, just as harrowed as Jake was when he let his brother see it.

“Jake, you're never going to lose me, no matter what. And no matter what happens, I will help you get through it. But you can't put this off. She is hurting and I can’t watch it go on much longer.”

“I can't do it.”

Those words chiseled away at you as did the voice that had squeaked out and said them.

“You promised me you would give her the choice. Rebecca is itching to leave. We need to do this now.”

“Josh, I-”

“I won't let you fall apart. But you have to trust me.”

You waited for one of them to speak again but a silence fell between them both for what felt like a long moment. It carried over to you as you contemplated your own feelings. You were angry with Jake over what he had done. It was undeniable and it was growing fierce inside you. But had the roles been reversed, you would have done the same thing.

Finally you watched the doors open and shut behind them both as each twin made their way over to where you sat in Jake's bed. But Jake seemed to distance himself in a way that Josh didn’t. Josh met you where you sat, standing at the end of the bed with a singular hand coming to grab the top of your foot where it rested beneath the covers. He’d formed a habit of giving you a physical cue that he was there in the flesh over the past few days you’d spent reaching for things that weren’t actually there.

Jake, on the other hand, propped himself up against the wall opposite his bed like he was afraid to get any closer. He seemed to be preparing himself for the hurt he must have suspected he would find in the conversation. And you understood that physical distance. It was an emotional wall he was already building.

But even so, Jake was the one to speak first despite the fact that his feet planted him farther away than Josh's did.

“We…we need to talk,” he began slowly.

He struggled to even say it. He struggled to even meet your eyes. And when he did speak, you could tell he was reluctant.

"Rebecca can break the tie," he whispered.

Maybe he hoped you wouldn't hear it.

You sat still for a moment before adjusting yourself and pulling your body into a more upright position, your eyes studying Jake's face all the while.

"What would happen to you?" you asked.

"It would be as if I'd never formed it. For the both of us. And our gifts would be restored."

Your eyes flickered over to Josh quickly before falling to your lap.

To break your tie. It would at least put Jake out of his misery, although you could see the damage it would do before you'd even done it. It practically sat in the room with you, like heavy, judgmental eyes casting shadows over everything.

"You would choose this?" you pressed, and Jake immediately shook his head.

"No. But it's not my choice to make; it's yours.”

His eyes sent a scalding glare toward the back of Josh's head who came to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, his hand now lying flat over yours.

"It isn't either of us that you would pick,” he said softly. “I think we all see that now.”

God, you had ached for Sam. You had tried not to dwell on it but it had become so obvious that even Jake felt it as you sat silently day after day. You burned for him. You needed him. And you were angry with yourself for all of it because the pain that wrote itself onto Jake’s features as his brother said it felt worse than the nightmare you now lived.

“How is she able to do it?”

“You died tied but unbound,” Jake answered, still not meeting your eyes. “Rebecca wasn't even sure we'd still be tied when you returned but seeing as I still don't have my gifts…”

“The tie is weaker now,” Josh continued where his brother left off. “It's vampire magic, apparently. And you're not entirely vampire anymore, are you?”

You weren't. You were even more of an abomination now and your fingers twitched with anger when you let your mind linger on it for too long.

“You keep resurrecting something that's supposed to be dead,” you whispered, keeping your eyes to your lap.

Although you hardly needed to have been staring at Jake to feel the weight of your words and what they did to him. Even Josh seemed to feel it given the way he glanced backward sympathetically at his brother before moving his eyes back to you.

He dipped his face down to try and catch your eyes. “If you bind with Jake, you'll live a happy life. Break it, and you can have whatever it is you want.” And then he sighed and pursed his lips. “We were wrong for trying to put you in a box before. No one is trying to do that now. The decision is yours and yours alone.”

He made it seem so easy when he said it that way, like it was a simple decision and all you had to do was reach out and pick a hand. The reality would be much more complicated, however, because by choosing one, you would give up the other. And if you were destined to walk the earth again, subjected to all that that now encompassed, the question was: who could you no longer live without?

"Can I speak with Jake alone please?” you asked Josh quietly.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah, absolutely. If you need me just…come find me. I'll be close.”

With a single squeeze to your hand, he left silently, pulling the doors shut with only a glance toward his brother before he was out of sight. And in his absence, you pulled yourself from Jake's bed, feet wobbling a little as you gained your balance.

Jake met your eyes silently, watching you stand and pull together what little strength you had left. And he looked just as beaten down as you felt.

“He tried to take himself after. Sam did. When you were…gone, he turned it in on himself but Cassius stopped him. I didn't understand why but maybe I do now. Cassius doesn't play short games.”

The replaying of the memory you didn't want burned into your mind ignited an anger within you, the likes of which you hadn't felt before. It came on suddenly but burned hot in your palms and in your ears.

“Why couldn't you just let me die a natural death? Why couldn't you just let me stay dead?” Your voice was quiet and calm but your fists clenched hard to reel yourself in before you unraveled.

Jake shook his head hard and swallowed, like he was mad at himself or maybe remembering someone else who had accused him of such atrocities.

“I'm selfish,” he whispered so lightly, even with your super hearing you barely hear it.

You were silent but it wasn’t your silence that put Jake on edge. It was your stillness. Your calm. It was somehow scarier to him than your anger. Much more resigned. It was like you had already chosen what it was you wanted.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he pleaded quietly.

“I don't know,” you answered flatly.

“Don't hide from me-”

“I said I don't know!” you suddenly boomed. And when you glowered at him, he saw a darkness there that he had never seen before, a remnant of something he could never even understand.

“I feel different! I feel things for you that I don't trust! I feel like an abomination! Like-like a rag doll being jerked around by the will of others! I feel empty and I feel a hole in the middle of my chest knowing that Sam is gone and I feel so ashamed to stand here and tell you that he is the only one who makes me feel like I'm not just some grotesque product of your inability to let me go. He's the only one who makes me feel like I am something other than the consequences of your grief.”

His face sank and you could tell you had hurt him in a way that he had never really experienced before. If he'd had his gifts, he might have shielded himself from it. But this way, he had no choice but to feel it. He had no choice but to bleed out in front of you. And it gnawed at you to know that you were the cause, truthful as you had been.

“Then you should be with him. You should,” he said finally, clearing his throat to hide the way his voice threatened to break. “Because I will never be able to let you die. I will never be able to let you go willingly. Never.”

“No, you won't,” you answered meanly. “You couldn't even do it when we weren't tied.”

He shook his head, practically scoffing in frustration and incredulity.

“How could you have asked that of me?”

“It was peaceful, Jake!” you screamed back, your own voice hoarse and losing its tenacity. “I was at peace! He gave me that! And you ripped it from me so violently so that you didn't have to feel it! You feel everything and you face nothing!”

His face seemed to harden instantly.

“You're right,” he agreed, “Sam did something I never would have been able to do, not really. Not if I could have felt it.”

You said nothing but you felt the sigh as your lungs pulled it up and out of your body. It was an endless fight. He would never understand what he had done. He would never understand the things that had drawn you to Sam as you had gotten to know him. Jake had always been right out in front of you but Sam? Sam had always been at your back, practically holding you up as you went about life and navigated things that scared you, even when the thing that scared you was yourself.

“You know, I've held you dead in my arms twice now. I didn't think anything could ever hurt me like that again. But this? This somehow feels even worse.”

“That's not fair,” you whispered through clenched teeth. “I did that for you. I died for you. And I would do it a million times over if I had to.”

His eyes fell shut and he breathed deeply before opening them again to face you and the mess he had helped create.

“But you still wouldn't choose me,” was all he said.

You felt your anger turn to guilt so quickly it could have given you whiplash. And it rendered you speechless under his eyes.

“Josh was right. I have no business keeping you here, not like this. You're not mine to have,” he whispered.

You resisted the urge to turn away from him and cry. Actually, you resisted the urge to cry altogether. There was nothing to cry over. There was no reason the two of you had to torment one another any longer.

“You'll let me go?” you asked quietly, the calm returning to your voice even as your shoulders and body wanted to shake from the sudden cold you felt.

“Yes,” he answered just as calmly. “I won't condemn you to a life you don't want any more than I already have.”

It practically broke you in two and yet still, you fought the sobs that begged to wrack at your body.

The truth was, you did still love Jake. That was the trouble of it all.

He took a step forward finally, meeting you finally, and let his hands raise to grasp at your biceps.

“But I want you to know that even when it's over and the tie is broken, I'll still feel it. My body will remember it. And if you ever want to feel it again,” he sighed as you choked on a sob between his hands, “you need only ask.”

You felt the dam break as you pulled each other into a tight hug, one that didn't hide the anger you felt toward one another but one that made you realize the anger paled in comparison to the love that existed between you, despite the irreparable damage that had been done.

And there, in his hands, you fell apart just a little.

—

When you left Jake to his thoughts in the guesthouse, you found Josh outside at the treeline, staring out into the cold dark space between trees that had been growing tall for decades.

“There's someone in the greenhouse for you,” he said as you met him silently at his side.

You glanced back at the glass structure, the place you'd been carefully avoiding while fighting your own demons right under Jake's nose.

“One more loose end to tie up,” he added as he smiled softly over at you.

You didn’t need to ask. You knew who was waiting for you. And you knew you had Josh to thank for making that happen. Josh was the one who had done everything simply for you in the end. You saw that much better now. He loved you in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend and maybe never would. But what you did know was that you loved him back.

“Thank you,” you breathed out into the silence of the night air, earning a surprised look from the twin you had originally set out to start your life with before things had taken the turn that they had.

“For what?” he asked gently.

“For being you.”

He chuckled softly to himself but there was hardly any humor in it.

“I hope you don't regret letting me into your life. Genuinely.”

“Oh Josh,” you sighed with a simple shake of your head, “I could never regret loving you.”

He turned to pull you into an embrace, one you would remember for the rest of eternity, hopefully even after. At least the safety of his arms never changed. Josh was the most steadfast thing you knew. And despite everything that had happened in the time you'd known him, you knew you would do it all over again just to be with him one more time.

When you pulled away to avoid whatever breakdown would have come rather easily in his arms, he gave you that toothy grin that always soothed you.

“I'll take care of him,” he said unprompted. “I'm his twin, I've always carried a piece of his soul with me. We stitch each other back together. That's what we do.”

You gave him a gentle nod before you turned toward the greenhouse.

Jake was better off in his hands than yours anyway.

The lights in the greenhouse twinkled their usual star-like light, having been restrung so delicately around plants that had been repotted and glass that had been cleaned. It was a much more gentle reminder of how long you'd been gone.

And despite the things you had remembered him doing in the previous days, the whispers in your ears seemed to fade away when you saw him step out of the darkness and into those twinkling lights casting a golden glow on his high cheekbones and droopy brown eyes.

"Josh told me you were alive but I needed to see it for myself."

God, you had even missed his voice.

"Where have you been?" you asked him, resisting the immediate urge to run and jump into his arms.

"Traveling," was all he said.

"Traveling,” you scoffed. “I need a real answer.”

“I knew Jake was hunting down Rebecca. I was planning on ending things but Josh convinced me to wait. He had hope. I decided it was better that I kept my distance in the meantime.”

He took a step closer and you could see he looked just as desolate as the twins did. Just as tired as Jake did. Maybe moreso.

“I can hear what he's done to you,” he whispered. “I can hear the things that haunt you. Even if you don’t want me around anymore, I can help you. Only if you want.”

Fuck, he made it so hard. You deserved your answers, of course. You deserved to know why he had done what he had. But goddamnit, you wanted to beg him to touch you, to reach into your mind and hold things together the way you never seemed to be able to.

But instead of letting yourself long for him too desperately, you took your moment to question him instead, while you had him there. And you tried to remember your anger.

“You sold out your own brother. How could you have done that?"

"I had made a deal with Cassius. I was so careful. I was listening to him every step of the way. Every thought until just before you…”

You only stared at him as he trailed off into silence, studying you. It was the first time he'd seen you alive in longer than Jake had and it felt so unfair that they had kept him from you even for that long. You were both thinking it. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to see that.

“I never even heard it,” he started again when he finally snapped out of the trance your eyes had put him in. “I was so certain of it. Over and over, he just kept thinking it. He would see it through to the end. I thought that meant he would…” He shook his head as he recalled it. “I thought it meant he would keep our deal. I thought I-”

“What deal did you make?” you interrupted him.

“I'm the threat. I'm the one he fears the most. Or at least I was. I told him he could kill me once and for all if he let you live. I told him I'd go without a fight if he let Jake's poor judgment slide just one more time.”

“But you went there to betray him."

He shook his head like you didn’t see what was written so plainly in front of you as he took a single step forward.

"That day in the greenhouse when you said Josh would never deserve a monster like you? I realized it was his fault. He did that to you. He was the one who crashed the car, he was the one that turned you, he was the one that stole you from Josh and now he's the one that's turned you into this.”

You felt a sting pierce your heart as he gestured to you, the abomination that you now were that, truthfully, you didn’t want him to see.

“You were always proud of what I was,” you whispered, avoiding the sudden urge to cover yourself with your arms and hide from him.

“But you weren’t,” he argued back as he took another step. “I spent so long trying to convince you that there was nothing wrong with you but you never really believed it. It never did any good that I thought you were perfect because you never saw it yourself.”

He took yet another step toward you until he was only a foot away from you, and the proximity grew hard to ignore. Your bodies had practically become like magnets and the time you’d spent apart only served to strengthen those magnets.

“I have let myself become miserable because of the choices other people made,” he said with a pointed look that was as deadly serious as it was genuine. “Seeing you hate yourself? Hearing the way you’ve hated yourself? I was angry. So much self-torture on my part, so much wallowing in my own misery, but that day in the greenhouse, I stopped feeling so selfish for once. That day I stopped bleeding for myself and I bled for you."

This time you didn't make any attempt to hide your emotions as they wrote themselves plainly across your face in the form of tears, monstrous and ocean-like as they rolled down your cheeks and set a quiver in your chin.

"You always deserved a choice. You deserved to choose the type of person you wanted to be and you deserved to choose who to spend your life with. That is why I turned him in. He stole your decisions from you like it was nothing. I told Cassius he could have me in exchange for you. I told him I would get Jake to agree to stay on the council for a century. He agreed. I thought…I thought he agreed. He said he would see it to the end, our deal-”

“That's not what he meant,” you interjected. It had finally clicked for you. Cassius didn't play short games. And one day you’d probably learn what it was exactly he would want in return but you could hardly find any urge to care inside of you now. “It's the one I now have in my pocket that sees your soul as it truly is. That's what he said to me.”

You watched confusion flash across his face and it was your turn to shake your head furiously at the things he didn’t see that were laid so plainly before him.

“You think I would have just let you die for me?” you implored.

“You never even would have noticed. Your life with Jake would have continued after he did his time-”

“I don't have a life without you, Sam!” you bellowed finally, arms thrown out to your sides in exasperation that he still couldn't see it: that you had chosen him. “Why do you think Cassius wouldn't let you kill yourself too? If he saw this happening, Sam, why do you think he didn't want me to return to find you already dead?”

When you were met with only silence, you let out a frustrated sound.

“I mean, for fuck’s sake, why do you think I haven’t bound myself to Jake yet?”

“You haven't bound to him yet?” Sam asked, his voice suddenly low and urgent as he reached out and let his fingers graze ever so slightly against your forearm.

“No, I haven't!” you yelled out. “I can’t bring myself to do it!”

He looked stunned as he stood there, suddenly searching for air where he previously didn't need it.

“And now that I'm…this,” you gestured to yourself meanly as hot tears bubbled stronger, “the tie is weak. Rebecca can break it.”

“Why would you let her do that?” Sam questioned, his eyes unwavering on you so as not to miss anything you might do.

It almost made you laugh.

“I would do it for you!” you practically screamed at the glassy eyed boy standing in front of you that softened your tone and your emotions almost instantly. “You said you thought we should choose who we take with us to the end. You said that.” And then you stepped closer to him, practically choking on your tears as you struggled to get the stupid words out. “I would break it for you, Sam. I would break it to take you with me. To the end.”

His eyes were watery when he nodded, as if the only thing holding him back was hearing you say it at long last.

“To the end,” he agreed.

His lips were on yours not a second later, commanding your mouth against his and devouring you the way he had wanted to for so long, the way you had wanted him to for so long. And with his hands on your body pulling you into him with abandon, his mind intertwining with yours to shut out the voices that had haunted you every waking second, you found your peace once more.

He alone was where you belonged.

You melded into him that way, amongst the glass and the plants and the twinkling lights. You even felt, with his lips warming yours and his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you and memorize you this way, that the two of you together transcended time and space together. And in many ways, you did.

You were desperate to have him right then and there. Frantic, even. Who cared who saw? Who cared who heard? You certainly didn't when you had gone so long without him. But the moment he understood what your hands meant to do, he took them both in one grip of his own and pried his mouth away.

“No, not like this. Not while you're still tied.”

You straightened almost instantly. He was right. That wasn't how you wanted him. You wanted to be focused on him when the time finally came. No one but him.

You had waited this long. Surely you could wait a little longer.

“Then let's fix that.”

—

Rebecca stood between you and Jake with some potion-looking liquid she had mixed up in a bowl and boiled over a fire in the backyard. It seemed rather primitive and it made you wonder how exactly she had brought you back but if you had to guess by the way your surroundings and your parents had melted right in front of your eyes, it had been fire that had brought you back so violently. And if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t want the details.

The others sat around quietly, waiting and watching while you kept your eyes squarely on Rebecca. You needed her for this but it did nothing to quell the loathing you felt for her having done what she had. Sam had had to free your mind in order for this magic to work and so it had left you out in the open once more, able to see her handiwork more easily.

“It should be easy. I've already spoken the incantation over it. You both need only drink it and your tie will be severed,” Rebecca explained.

You'd been avoiding Jake's eyes but when you met them now as he was being passed a tiny glass of dark liquid, you hoped he did see the sorrow in yours that things had come to this.

You wouldn't spend your life angry with him. You didn't want to. This was the only way to ensure it. And maybe you owed each other more words. Maybe you even owed each other a kiss or a hug or just some touch to remind one another that things wouldn't always feel this bad between you. But for once, he didn't seek you and you didn't seek him. There seemed to be a silent understanding between you that there was no amount of physical reassurance and no amount of words spoken that could undo what had been done. It would only be time that could remedy the mess you two had made of one another. At least that you had plenty of.

Rebecca handed you a tiny glass of your own and you took it between your fingers, staring down at the elixir that would change the path you were on so dramatically that it didn't even feel real.

You glanced over at Sam who wore an almost expressionless look on his face until he caught sight of your eyes. He gave you the smallest of smiles, one that he contained for his brother's sake, but it was enough to urge you to turn back to Jake and put glass to lips.

You each swallowed it down in one gulp with your eyes unwavering on one another. And as the liquid slid down your throat, its effects were practically instant.

All at once, you felt something within you sever, and suddenly the guilt you had felt for leaving Jake and the pull that tugged at you, digging its heels in and begging you to go to him, it was all gone, dwindling down into nothing more than a mere spark. And left in its wake was an anger that went unmatched.

You could feel your gifts returning to you, sweeping up through your toes and electrifying you on the journey toward your fingers and finally your head. You could tell Jake was experiencing the same thing, his head thrown back as he breathed deeply and tried to adjust to an assault of noise he had gone without and perhaps forgotten how to wrangle.

You, on the other hand, relished in it. For far too long you had felt weak. For far too long you had felt out of control, jostled around at the whims of others. In fact, you were here now because of choices that had been made that were out of your hands. It angered you beyond recognition. How dare he subject you to such a life of torment? How dare he bring you back to face it all like it was nothing?

The wind rustled the trees around you, conjuring up images of the days you had spent with Sam in the forest: the times you had killed and enjoyed it, the times you had hurt him and regretted it, the times you had been blinded by a rage you could neither control nor understand. But you didn’t fear yourself now. You didn’t fear the power that now flowed once more through your veins, made all the more strong thanks to your journey through death.

With your gifts finally intact, your mind no longer clouded by Jake to the extent that it had been, and your rage finally returned to your body, you reached out to take Rebecca's hand. You could feel all of the beings she had tormented before you. You could see them all as they clung angrily to her. And you were now one of them, thanks to Jake.

But in a way, so was he. Maybe he had even been the first.

She never even felt it. But Jake did. You made sure of that. Like both a punishment and a gift, he felt the instantaneous explosion of pain you sent through her that evaporated her where she stood without even an ounce of exertion from your body.

He doubled over in the same instant, gasping out in pain as he desperately gripped onto Josh's pant leg. Danny and Adele looked on in horror as nothing but remnants of Rebecca in the form of dust now floated in their vision.

Josh had crouched low instantly to ensure his twin was alright, his face out of your life of sight, but Jake? Jake had his eyes on you. He wore a similar expression of horror at what you had done, even as he gasped through the pain he had felt from her and fought to control it. But his eyes never faltered on yours.

And as he wilted there in front of you, the image of you in his vision suddenly morphing into someone he hardly even recognized, your eyes never shied from his either. You had nothing left to hide from him.

“An irresponsible use of power,” was all you said before you turned to leave them all where they stood, stunned and silent, like they had never even known you. And the truth was, they hadn’t. Not the you that you now were.

You weren’t even certain Sam would follow. You weren't certain you deserved him after it all. Actually, you felt quite certain that you didn't.

But he never even hesitated.

—

You didn’t know it as Sam drove you away from the house that you wouldn’t see them all again for several decades. Sam would make the trip a few times over the years without you until things eventually smoothed over, but for now, you left them behind willingly in favor of a house standing tall on a cliffside overlooking the ocean.

The constant swell of seawater beating against rocky cliff below you created a peaceful backdrop for you and Sam to begin your new lives together. And there overlooking the angry ocean, hardly a soul existed to torment you, not that Sam couldn’t handle it.

“I bought half the beach so we wouldn't have to worry about people,” you heard him say from behind you as you looked out the wide pane of glass in your fishbowl porch that painted a view so breathtaking before you.

But you turned on your heels to take in the even more breathtaking view that stood behind you.

“And the ocean here is always terrifying. Should drown those voices out, when they come.”

“There are hardly any here,” you said quietly.

It was funny; now that the two of you found yourselves truly alone for the first time, Sam looked incredibly nervous and you felt as such.

The two of you weren't used to such quiet.

It would be an adjustment, quelling the remnants of your anger alongside the confusion your body still felt at being alive. It would take some getting used to, having now returned to a being that needed sleep to get through the day. You were still changing in ways you didn’t understand, too. And it didn’t help that you no longer knew what exactly you were or what exactly it was that your body needed, that it hungered for. You still found yourself stumbling with fatigue every now and then despite your gifts having returned to you. You even found yourself fighting fits of visions, none from this world but from a world beyond, that always seemed to have you doubling over and screaming out for Sam. But each time you stumbled, he caught you. Each time you called out his name, he found you. And each time you hungered, he was there to satiate you.

You hadn’t lived in the house together for long before a particularly hard day found you. You’d slept late while the sun shined high in the sky warding off a storm brewing several miles away. You'd been kept awake the night before by a barrage of terrors that Sam had begged you to let him quiet. And you finally had let him after several hours. He’d lulled you into a peaceful sleep and ensured you would remain that way until you were more rested. And when you woke, you woke to a house with every curtain drawn tightly shut so as not to wake you. But Sam was no longer beside you.

You padded quietly through the house to find him standing in the large fishbowl porch just off the front of the home, drinking some thick, red blood from a purple mug he must have gotten when he’d decided to attend university some several decades earlier. And his eyes scanned the horizon where the storm drew closer.

Sam had been opting for blood bags from a local hospital since the move. You felt bad knowing how much he loved the fresh stuff but he had insisted upon a quicker method of dining. He hated leaving you even for the hour it took to acquire the stuff. When you had a better handle on things, you'd encourage him to feed the way you knew he needed to. But for you, blood no longer seemed necessary. It seemed that now what your body wanted more than anything was sleep. You were constantly running on empty.

Only once had you felt energized, on a night that Sam had had to shut out the world around you as you sat huddled in bed, shaking in fear at the thing staring at you from the corner of the room. He'd taken your face in his hands and made it all disappear. And then for good measure, he'd given you a memory to hold onto, one of his older ones from back when he was human with Danny. A happy one before their lives had changed. And it had seemed to wake you, like a jolt of caffeine injected directly into your veins. Sam had done some research in the days that had followed and came to the conclusion that you fed off the very same thing as the souls around you did: the living. The two of you just hadn't yet figured out exactly how to harness it.

“I'm sorry, I hope you didn't feel like you had to be quiet for my sake,” you said softly as you crept up behind him with the lavender-colored linen duvet from your bed draped over your shoulders.

That was the other thing you couldn't get used to: the cold. You were still cold to the touch but now it ran deeper, like it permeated your bones. Sam hated it. He hated feeling like he was only chilling you further every time he touched you. But you didn't mind it. It just seemed like a good excuse to rarely leave his bed or to stay bundled up in his sweaters.

“No, no, it’s okay. It kills me to watch you struggle but I know you want to learn to manage these things on your own,” he said just as quietly as he brushed your hair over your shoulder and smiled warmly down at you. “Are we still alone?” he asked.

It had become his new “stay with me”, a quick and easy question he could ask to judge where your mind was at without overstepping your own determination. Heaven forbid something happen to him and you couldn't even get through the first night alone, not that you would even want to.

“Yes, we’re still alone,” you answered before you inhaled a deep breath and tucked yourself under his arm to take in the view of the dark storm rolling across a marvelous expanse of sky. “It’s just going to take me some time to get the hang of things. Feel more normal again.”

He turned his body to face yours, setting his mug down on a wicker table so his hands were free to take either side of your face between them gently. Your eyes fell shut at the feeling, a feeling that was indescribable now that your heart wasn’t caught between him and someone else.

“Take all the time you need,” he whispered softly. “We have plenty of it.”

You let the weight of your head rest completely in his hands, lolling it to one side as you felt his face draw nearer to yours at the behest of your fingers working to find friction in his shirt.

“Actually, I don't think I need time,” you corrected yourself in a light murmur, your eyes still rocked closed.

“No?” he questioned.

You shook your head gently and opened your eyes, though they found themselves instantly fixed to his lips and far too intrigued to move.

“No. Your hands make me feel more normal than anything else.”

Your mouth willed him forward, lips parted and face angled up toward his, waiting, ever so patiently.

It felt like an eternity before his lips finally brushed against yours, just barely meeting yours where they yearned for him so desperately. But when you felt him there, grazing gently along your skin in an almost timid manner, as though he were testing the waters, you closed what little distance there still was keeping you apart, connecting your mouths more fully in a delicate kiss.

It was different having his mouth pressed to yours now, different than anything you had felt in the past. Your soul was no longer being pulled in two different directions, fighting to just feel him. Now, it was only him there with you, no fight needed. It was clarity in a world that seemed to lack that very thing.

When your lips parted briefly, his eyes met yours, staring down at you warmly while his thumbs memorized the skin pulled across your cheeks.

“I wish my hands could forget the last thing they did to you.” He spoke quietly but you could see very plainly the hurt in his eyes as he relived the very thing his brother had run from.

You took his hands in yours, pressing them between your palms and squeezing them tightly.

“The last thing they did was make me feel more alive than I have ever felt,” you assured him.

When his lips met yours again, they were no longer timid. They moved against yours fervently, like they had something they wanted to show you. And they did.

You and Sam hadn't done much in the way of physicality since you'd left for the cliffside. He had insisted it could wait until you had a better handle on things. But as the weeks passed, your need for him had only grown to immeasurable heights and now, you no longer cared if you were mentally unstable or not. You'd find yourself in an even more dire situation if you didn’t have him. And soon.

Sam smiled against your lips as he read your mind. “You already have me; didn’t you know that?”

You smiled back as his hands grew needy against your body, feeling the skin and the lines and the curves he was convinced he'd never get enough of. Thank God you had an eternity to spend together. No limit of time would ever be enough to truly get your fill of him.

It felt like your bodies found one another in slow motion, amongst an almost silent backdrop that only held in the air the sound of waves far beneath you and the trickle of rain that had started from above you, neither of which could touch you in the safety of your home and the safety of his arms.

Your body sought his in any way it could while he walked you through the house, each room quieter and more still than the last, until you blindly reached bed. And you didn't mind the cold as you went. In fact, your hands searched for it, fervently, that smooth, cold skin that they'd barely even been allowed to touch save for a much more shameful moment against a tree in a forest and covered in blood. It wasn't like that now, though. There was no shame to be found as you stripped him of his clothes so quickly, you knew he'd find tears in the fabric when this was long over.

Sam's hands acted with that same sense of urgency and desperation, a cartographer eager to map the planes of your body and how they belonged to him. How they existed for him. His movements to undress you were like silent little promises, each and every one, whispers of the way he felt for you, demonstrations of the way he'd care for you.

You could have remained that way forever and never felt anything but happiness, with Sam in front of you, bared to you and you to him, and your body pressed into his until every crack was sealed and no inch of space went untouched by him.

His hands rested flat against your back, drawing down along your shoulder blades until they reached the dimples at your lower back and the swell of your ass. And then he dipped them even lower to grab at your thighs and part them for him, lifting you high up around his waist to fit snugly between your legs. Even with your eyes closed and your mouth still claiming his, you memorized his body against yours. It would be your new calming memory, your new sense of peace, the thing you used to ground yourself when the nights got difficult.

You barely even registered the sea of plush that hit your back as he used the mattress stopping you to bring his body even closer to yours, pressing into you hard and hungry all while he devoured you.

You begged him with your body and your mind alike to let you feel him inside of you, the last form of connection you'd ever need. But as his mind searched yours, wading through the messy waters there to listen the way he usually did, he pulled his lips away finally, along with his body, until he only stood between your legs, gazing down at you lying ready for him on the bed.

“Are we still alone?” he asked, reaching down to trace lines along your thigh where he could still reach.

You didn't even need to check the way you sometimes did, when you'd fearfully set your eyes to turn about the room, looking for shadows, listening for voices. You could tell just by the silence that engulfed you that he was the only one there with you.

You lifted yourself up onto your elbows and then onto your palms until your torso raised parallel to his where he stood just beside the bed. And you brought your lips to his skin, the expanse around his navel first to let your tongue taste the saltiness there. You heard him let out a gasp above you as your cold fingers found him next, wrapping around his length as your mouth traveled up and down and along his torso that seemed to heave beneath your touch.

Those droopy, doughy eyes watched you carefully as you savored him. You felt indescribably lucky to be touching him this way. Even just to have him this way.

“There's no one here but you and me,” you whispered against his skin.

The way it was meant to be.

He worked a hand into your hair to pull your face away, enough to angle your head back to gaze up at him. And with your mouth vacant once more, he leaned down to connect your lips again, this time taking himself in his hand and angling his hips just right so that he could slide easily between your legs and thrust himself inside of you.

You gasped against his mouth as he stilled himself there, giving you both a moment to truly feel one another as you became one in an instant.

His eyes fell shut the way yours did and your lips hovered close to one another's, both parted and breathing deeply to steady the sudden desperate ache that grabbed at you, begging you to move at light speed to continue what you'd started.

“I don't know how I got this lucky,” he shook his head almost in disbelief just before he worked both of his hands up into your hair to steady himself against you once more, enough to draw his hips back slowly and thrust them forward again, sinking himself deeper into you. You both moaned at the feeling, the sounds mingling together and dancing in the air until it was impossible to tell where one noise ended and the other began.

You could hear nothing but the waves and the rain and the sounds he made as he lifted you just off the bed to position himself better, coming down to hover over you as his hips couldn't help but work themselves up into a rhythm.

God, you needed him. You needed this every waking second for the rest of eternity. It was the way his hands gripped your skin to pull you closer, the way his moans started deep in his chest and muffled themselves against your mouth, the way he felt filling you up and nudging the deepest parts of you, all of him really that conjured up happy tears in your eyes and the vacancy in your lungs.

His hand moved to your chest, slender fingers splaying out flat against your body to push you backward against the mattress again, giving himself a better view as he sent another sharp thrust through his hips, driving himself deeper inside of you until you could practically feel him in your stomach. And he moved slowly to savor his every movement but his pelvis drove into you hard, each thrust sending you scooting halfway up the bed as decency fell away and only an urgent hunger for one another remained.

His name, it was the only thing you knew as your back arched off the bed and your fingers reached out to grab at his chest or his arms or his hair, whatever they could find to grip and keep you tethered to him.

“I love you, Sam. Fuck, I love you. I love you,” you gasped from underneath him as the feelings overflowed in your chest, culminating in a prayer to him.

Sam dipped his head back down with a gentle curse and brought his lips to the skin just below your breasts. And you waited to feel fangs sink into your skin there. You waited for that piercing pleasure to send hot, sharp pain through your body. But it never came. Only his lips and tongue graced you, peppering you with lazy, sloppy kisses while his hips never even faltered.

“I have loved you for so long,” he answered between kisses and drags of his tongue against your icy skin. “And I'll love you to the end.”

You took his position as an opportunity to weave your hands into his long hair, letting them tangle themselves and pull as they pleased as your body sought his up and off the bed.

“And after or I'll haunt you, Samuel. Wherever you are in the afterlife, I'll find you-oh fuck!” A sharp gasp cut through your words as he nudged that beautiful spot inside of you.

He brought his face level with yours, showing off the smile that had spread on his lips.

“And after,” he promised with a nod, just before his brows furrowed and his mouth dropped open at the feeling of you squeezing tighter around him.

It was like its own little source of pleasure, knowing you could cause a reaction like that in him. It sparked something a bit more animalistic inside of you, prompting you to pull him down roughly and roll him over onto his back so you could begin to ride him at a much faster pace. But he quickly lifted his body up to meet yours, wrapping a strong arm around the small of your back to help guide your rhythm.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his face taking on a determined look as his hands worked with your hips to spur your movements on. Just a little harder, just a little faster.

You moaned out a loud sound as you wrapped your arm around his shoulders and dropped your forehead down onto him. Each raise and lowering of your hips brought him closer, brought you closer.

His hands worked hard to spread across every inch of your skin as your hips rolled against him, taking him as deeply as you could.

“I-I swear you saved me,” he stuttered out against the feeling, against your skin. “When we met, I was giving up.”

You squeezed your eyes shut at his words, moving faster and truthfully, feeling nothing but him and the blinding bliss his body created.

“Shit-” His words threatened to fail him as expletives began to drip from your own mouth like a chant now. But he seemed so determined to make you understand just exactly how he felt, as if you couldn’t feel it in the way his body clung to yours or in the way his eyes drooped just a little more with the heavy weight of his love for you.

“Everything inside of me burns with desire for you,” he grunted as he gripped your waist tighter and bounced you harder on his length.

“Oh fuck, Sam-” you choked out.

“I swear,” he breathed out, enraptured in your bliss almost more than his own, “you’ve made me better.”

It was his words that did it in the end, sending you crashing over the edge with his name burned into your throat as your walls clenched hard around him. And he followed not long after, spilling deep inside of you and clutching your body as close to his as he could manage.

The aftermath you had left took the shape of bed linens strewn across the floor along with clothing that may or may not have been wearable again in its current state. And in bed, your bodies entangled that same way, haphazard and draped wherever they had left off with one another. But even so, his lips strolled along your skin lazily, whatever he could reach as you fell back onto the mattress like he was reluctant to let the moment end.

You knew what he was doing. He was committing this very moment to memory, trying not to lose even a single detail.

“A new favorite.” It wasn’t so much a question but he nodded in confirmation.

“A new favorite.”

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your lips.

He seemed to be settling into the bed, likely to help you sleep, but you hardly felt tired. Actually, you'd never felt more alive than you did in that moment. So wearing only a mischievous smirk, you slipped off the mattress as he eyed you and your form carefully.

You waltzed across the room to his side of the bed as the confusion grew on his face. And when you stood next to him and took his hand gently in yours, you gave him a grin.

“I'll race you,” you teased just before you flew out the door behind you.

You could hear him yelling from behind you as you went.

“Where are you going? You're indecent!”

“Come find me beneath the water!” you yelled back, pushing through every door in your way until your feet had found solid ground.

Then you flung your body over the cliff's edge.

And when your body hit the water and began to sink into it like a rock, welcoming the vast darkness that existed below the bellowing surface, you again found yourself unable to contain the smile that formed at your lips when you felt the splash of him meeting you there.

Taglist: @gvfcinema @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @hippievanfleet @crossczeched48 @cassiesgreta @sunfl0wer-power @abby-gvf @joshkiszkasfoot @joshskittytickler @lightsofthe-living-gvf @i-choose-the-road @am-bam @alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @themoreyou-love @bumblebeewrites @coolmedown @sacredthesin @jonch-gvf @justdamnpeachy @fallenstar1708 @vanfleeter @laurengvf8 @allybtj @watching-over-hypegirl @hr33gvf @kaitburb @threadofstars @jennasometimesreads @samiiijones @jakekiszkasmommy @lallisonl @therobynsworld-blog @misshunnybee @sparrowofthedawnsworld @demonrat444 @malany-gvf @myownparadise96 @capturethechaos @st4rdust-ch0rds @montenegroisr @sacredjake @notthedroidz @sinarainbows @kissingthegoat @eraofstardustchords @cherryflo @blacksoul-27 @lyndz2names @earthgrlsreasy @gvfmarge @carlyfleet @thetroublegetssoloud71 @withlovegvf @suzi107 @gracev0609 @objectsinspvce @kissakiszka @amorlizette @stardustcatcher @notsostrangerthing @brokebellsgvf @sweet1squash @imleavingyoufornewyork @lipstickitty @mavvanfleet

[red-panda-agere]

Regressor! Vanitas

(!¡!Pull-up/Diaper/Accident mention!¡!)

He is literally the smallest baby ever, he doesn’t even speak usually. Very rarely he’ll be around three (when they HAVE to be in public but Vanitas can’t make himself stop regressing), but Noé is almost always left with trying to decipher his fussy baby’s whines and crying.

Regresses to make up for his sorry excuse of a childhood but says it’s just to relieve stress. He claims his childhood “doesn’t bother him” only because he can’t find the right words to properly express this empty hurt inside of him because of it, and he truly believes he can never actually make anyone understand how painful it is for him.

Though he denies it like his life depends on it, and claims it’s a very rare thing, he tends to regress quite often. If not during the day or after they return home, usually during their nightly routine, Vanitas will start to regress.

Noé couldn’t help but notice how quiet his partner had gotten, practically nonverbal the moment they stepped through the door. “Is that a sleepy little prince I spy?” Noé asked with a gentle voice, receiving a small whine in response. “Ohhh, my poor little baby. So tired and stressed from all that big kid work. He deserves a break doesn’t he?” The vampire walks over to the edge of his bed, where Vanitas is now awkwardly playing with his own hands. He kneels down infront of him, and looks up to Vanitas’ eyes. They were glossy and he looked about ready to meltdown. “Oh baby…Baby baby baby…shhhh” he gently whispered to his forehead as he swiftly hoisted him up to his hip. “Let’s go get your kitty little one. Would that help mon ange?” Vanitas hesitated to, and nodded ever so slightly, a shuddering breath heard. “Oh my little Vanitas, Papa’s here.” A very weak sound escaped the smaller male’s lips, one he barely forced out but couldn’t bring himself to choke down. “Papa…”

Without Noé there to guide him while regression, he honestly has no idea what he’s doing. His childhood was completely ripped from him, so he’s unsure of what he’s supposed to be doing for the most part. As long as he can cuddle his Papa though, he doesn’t seem to mind being lost. And Noé almost always has activities set up for him.

The first time he read Vanitas a bedtime story, Vanitas didn’t understand why, but he just started crying and Noé was quick to comfort him. Vanitas wanted to say ‘thank you’ but just couldn’t get it out. Noé understood.

The first time Vanitas regressed at all, neither of them had any idea what was happening, but Noé knew Vanitas needed this. He took him into his arms, not saying a word as he just let Vanitas cry to him as he apologized profusely for trying to kill him.

“No-é! Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!” Vanitas wept like he’d never wept before. He was crying for the first time in years into the shoulder of this vampire he’d grown so attached to he couldn’t even bring himself to kill him. He cared so deeply for this man, it was absolutely killing him. Vanitas was not supposed to love, never ever. But… “Please don’t leave Noé! Please! Please please please! I’ll never do it again!” He sobbed, grabbing tightly to the vampire’s sweater, soaking its shoulder. It was already pathetic enough he was showing such strong emotion to him, but he was literally desperate for him to continue to exist around him. He felt so small and comforted in his arms. For once in his life, he wasn’t cold and scared. He had a home to return to, someone to return to for a feeling of safety. “I won’t leave you Vanitas. I forgive you…I’m here.” Noé softly spoke, lips close to the shorter male’s forehead. This went on for hours until Vanitas finally collapsed into Noé’s arms, shivering and exhausted. “I’m here now Vanitas…I’m here…” he tucked a bit of the exhausted Vanitas’ hair behind his ear. Vanitas had hardly said anything, but he didn’t have to. Noé knew…not to the extent Vanitas had experienced but enough. But he didn’t need to understand, feeling there was enough pain in this scared boy to have more than warranted such a meltdown.

Noé once suggested Johann, Dante, and Riche could look over Vanitas if he were to run errands, and he went BALLISTIC at the thought of that ‘old man’ having to babysit him, a grown man. Only Noé can know about this secret, and even then he only knows a fraction of what Vanitas really does/wants to do.

-Sometimes they both regress, because-

If Noé even brings up regression in any conversation ever, Vanitas goes ballistic.

Noé often refers to him as “Mon ange” “Mon bébé” “Mon petit chéri” and “sunshine.” The last usually tends to inexplicably make Vanitas go very quiet, cry, or just become an extra needy baby.

When regressed, he really likes to bother Murr. Murr doesn’t mind being held like a stuffie, or being cried into by a lonely little sunshine.

His favorite pacifier is a yellow one with little suns on it.

His favorite stuffie is a Siamese cat beanie baby named Snip.

He really likes sleeper onsies, as they cover his super scarred body.

Absolutely hates talking when regressed, especially about ‘big boy topics’ like his past, his relationship with Jeanne (not a romantic one, but the fact she’s bitten him before), and especially Mikhail. However, since he tends to regress because of stress instead of using it to ease/prevent stress, he tends to find himself panicking to a stuffed animal at the thought of just existing the way he has been.

Embarrassing as it is, he really likes things intended for the littlest of babies, wanting to experience them for the first time. He has a really big interest with little items, even if he doesn’t know what they’re originally for, as his childhood is nothing but a living nightmare. So, he tends to wear diapers for comfort, and sometimes even pull-ups just for when he’s big and wants to feel safer.

Very frequent nightmares, Vanitas always running to Noé for comfort. Whether they’re already in bed together or Vanitas runs to him sobbing, Papa is immediately his first and only hope of calming down down.

-He also tends to have a-lot of night-time accidents because of nightmares.

-He is very very very very very shy about his accidents but also isn’t good at changing himself, nor does he have the mental capacity in the moment to do so, and he tends to run off and hide right after he’s realized it’s happened. Even if it is 3 in the morning, he’s just woken up to a storm and Noé is trying to help him stay calm, he’ll slide out of bed and run to hide somewhere, like the bathroom or he’ll take a blankie to hide himself in the corner. The only exception to this, is when he wakes up from nightmares. The only moment he isn’t scared to ask for anything is when he’s woken up from a nightmare, and he will hold onto a sleeping Noé, fist fulls of his shirt in his hand as he sobs and wails into his Papa’s chest for comfort. Noé, despite being a heavy sleeper usually wakes up pretty quickly when it comes to his little one.

“PAPA! PAPA PAPA!” Vanitas screams as he sits up in bed, tears cascading down his cheeks. The taller vampire sits up as soon as he hears the desperate cries, and pulls him into his lap as fast as he can. “Oh Mon Ange…shhh shhh…” he whispers, lips to the top of his head as he then placed a few kisses. “Sweet baby, Papa’s here. Calm down little one, everything will be okay. It wasn’t real sweetheart, you’re right here with me little star. It’s okay…shhhh…” Noé wraps a blanket loosely over Vanitas’ shoulders as he bawls out into the night. “I know baby, I know…”

Kitties! Lots of kitty stuffies, kitty toys, blankies with kitties on them, pacifier with a kitty on it, kitty themed play mat, kitty themed children’s bowls/plates/silverware with paw prints on it, etc. Lots of kitties! (And stars)

Follows his Papa around like a lost puppy

Refuses to do anything ‘little’ in public, and won’t even go with Noé to pick out new little stuff for himself because he thinks somehow everyone would know.

He loves having stories read to him. Even after having 10 different stories read to him, he will still hand Noé another book.

Very picky/weird about toys. He has trouble playing with toys like blocks or puzzle blocks, but really likes small figures like LPS that he can just set up and make scenes with rather than really playing with them. The only toys he really plays with are very very infantile toys that require minimal thinking and effort, like rattles and the ring stack toys.

Even when big, but especially when small, he hates asking for things.

He absolutely hates bath time, and having to let Noé see his scars, and especially his arm. Noé has never mentioned it, but they both know it’s something to be worried about. For little Vanitas’ sake though, he never brings it up in conversation. Baths are usually an ordeal neither look forward to, but Noé always makes sure he takes them when little. Vanitas will cling, and even cry, to his Papa while being cleaned in the tub until he’s wrapped in a towel and let out.

Though baths are not his favorite, Vanitas is always rewarded with Noé massaging his whole body with lotion afterwards, and it’s become part of their nightly routine when Vanitas is little. The intimacy and soothing-ness of the act is essential in getting a regressed Vanitas to sleep.

He also demands lullabies, a bottle, and a nightlight so he can sleep. If his nightlight is dead or just won’t turn on, it’s a long sleepless night for Noé and a new nightlight added to his grocery receipt that week

Cuddling > playing > napping > bath

Whines and pouts a lot

Noé is very enthusiastic about Vanitas when regressed, and gets very excited to help him into cute jammies and coo over his sweet little baby. Sometimes he hugs Vanitas a little too tightly without realizing it.

Absolutely hates crying at all, especially in front of Noé, but when it isn’t from a sudden scare, Vanitas will dash off to hide somewhere when he feels he has to cry. He’ll even curl up as small as possible and hide under the kitchen sink to cry over spilling his juice. Of course Papa comes to fetch his little one and pulls him out from under there to hold him close and help him calm down after a bit of fussing and hesitance.

He has probably bit Noé before and would absolutely do it again.

Vanitas is actually very self conscious about his inability to really be happy that often when he’s regressed. Usually the reason he feels small: he’s on the verge of a panic attack, super stressed out, or just so exhausted he’s to the point of tears. While little he can’t help but feel really tired and often sad. But Papa always tells him it’s okay to be sad and have emotions like that, and even more okay to tell him about it and express them. Crying and being sad is part of being human, and with the sensitive topic of why Vanitas regresses, it’s only human he’d be a scared little one.

[themauvesoul]

Sometimes I feel like I am a guy trying to plug a hole in the Hoover dam with my pinky finger. Anyways. Here is what you actually need to know about paragraph length, sentence length, and the like:

Yes, the rule is TECHNICALLY that you’re supposed to start a new paragraph with each new action or thought. However. On a more basic level, a paragraph is just a group of sentences that are conveying the same idea, and there are one million ways to skin that cat. For instance, here is an excerpt from a personal essay I wrote a while back:

Here it is again:

And here it is again:

All of these are technically correct, but they read slightly different. The first one reads faster than the other two, and the ideas in the paragraph blend and bleed together a little more. The middle one is much more measured and even. And the last version reads very slowly and dramatically, with heavy emphasis on certain words and phrases. What makes these three passages read so differently is the length of the paragraphs. Readers tend to pick up the pace during long paragraphs, and slow down quite a bit when they get to shorter paragraphs. Additionally, you’ll notice that the two one-word paragraphs add a TON of emphasis to those words. This is because they’re so visually distinct AND extremely short.

The trick to formatting your paragraphs is NOT following an imprecise rule that is frequently difficult to apply to your own writing. The trick is to vary the length of your paragraphs.

This:

And this:

are both equally annoying. The version without any paragraph breaks goes on and on, and eventually you get tired of reading it. The version with TOO MANY paragraph breaks feels like it’s shouting at you, because every sentence is so important it deserves its own paragraph. Formatting paragraphs is, first and foremost, about including enough variation to keep people interested and paying attention.

And this exact same principle is true of sentence length. If you scroll back up and look at the pic where I put every sentence on its own line, you’ll notice very quickly that there’s a lot of variation there. Some sentences are one word, some are three lines long, and most fall somewhere in the middle. This is intentional. It keeps the reader engaged. If you look closely at this paragraph, you’ll see that I’m doing it in here, too.

The reason for this is identical to why varying your paragraph lengths is a good idea. Long sentences move quickly, short sentences slow the reader’s pace and add emphasis, and medium sentences keep the reader at a comfortable, easy pace. You can use long sentences to add urgency, a sense that time is moving quickly, or a level of confusion as the reader tries to decipher your six line sentence. Short sentences pack a punch. It’s the difference between a freeze frame and an establishing shot. You can use the rhythm and meter of spoken language to help out with this as well. Most people sort of instinctively vary their sentences in length, tone, and emphasis. Nobody irl is speaking to one another in a series of five-word sentences because it sounds robotic and disgusting. If you write in the natural cadence you use in spoken language, you will automatically vary your sentences enough to keep a reader interested.

One thing to note about this is that the emphasis sentence and paragraph lengths create, much like any other fun writing trick, is like cayenne pepper or salt. No emphasis is bland, but too much makes your writing inedible. Figuring out how to season your drafts is a process that you can only complete through experimentation.

This is why you patently SHOULD NOT listen to writing advice that is broad, basic, or positioned as universally applicable. Everybody has their own preferences wrt spice and salt! Two people can look at an identical work of art, and can very easily get into an argument online about whether it’s bland or over seasoned, because they fundamentally have different standards. The best way to improve your writing is to learn how and why the tools in your toolkit work, experiment with them, and show other people the results.

[divinekangaroo]

Thomas Shelby as a semi-modern-era boss:

You get curtly worded letters from his secretary if you show up to work without a tie

Or if you’re a woman and you wear pants instead of a pencil skirt

No such thing as casual Fridays

Comes by your desk at 4.56pm on a Friday and spends three hours talking to you about very important business he’s failed to talk to you about every other time you’ve tried for the last four weeks

Knows the first names of your children

Knows your wife is pregnant before you do

Functional alcoholic

Very angry phone calls made after 3.30pm

Maximum 10 word emails

Whole office spends hours trying to help each other decipher the 10 word emails

No email signature

Mobile phone number is a mystery to all, no office worker has it, but yet it constantly rings

First in, last out, but totally absent between the hours of 9.30am and 3pm

The Office Fitout Is All Mahogany

There Are Even Mahogany Wall Panels in the Toilets

Resignation letters are not acknowledged

Depressing art of heather and pastoral scenes and moors

Considers Scotland an exotic destination

No such thing as paperless office

Weirdly, achieves and exceeds the diversity employment quotient on any corporate social responsibility measure applied

Says its because the loyalty people give you once you tell them they matter is worth more than any supposed white collar qualification

An explanation which makes you feel very uncomfortable

The family clearly holds a controlling interest

Significant property asset investments, cash and near cash assets, and extremely low leverage distort share price; won’t take advice on financial restructuring

Very high risk tolerance for R&D; very low risk tolerance for debt

Love/hate relationship with his shareholders

Keeps one token independent company director trotted out to the shareholders once per year for a speech

Very complex delegated authority structure (no one quite sure what authority for decision making they have, so everything ends up with him anyway)

Office parties are always at the races and he always issues a dress code reminder

Can never catch him doing coke at office parties but pretty sure he does (stares fixedly at each race and grinds his jaw the whole time)

Owns too many racehorses for someone apparently not involved in money laundering

Thousands if not millions donated each year (as tax offsets) to rehabilitate old or injured racehorses

Still has a tea lady because workers aren’t allowed up from their desks to waste time buying/making coffees

Lives in a run of the mill middle class suburb a very long drive away from work because it was all he could afford when he started out, but in the most fuck-off (yet non-functional and tacky) house you’ve ever seen because he’s just kept adding status symbols to it over time

Owns a boat

Never goes out on the boat

Doesn’t let anyone borrow the boat

Has a photo of the boat on his desk

Starts and sells spin off businesses at a rate of two per year

Attempted to retire once and leave the business to his cousin, but within a year it was going into administration so he came back out of retirement and started calling in favours

Pretty sure you once caught him viciously slitting the tires of a car that’d parked in his spot

[ladysirenity23]

Cult!Genshin x reader

Sagau pt.2 Mondstadt

Warnings: cult behavior, obsessive thoughts, religion, spoilers

[Sagau pt.1 Khaenri'ah here] 👇

Diluc

When the red head was just but a young lad he would see a small statue by his dad's office

A perfect and divinely being, Crepus would say while kneeling on the ground hands clasped saying quiet prayers at the image of 'The Creator'

Diluc was man who spoke few--to no words ever since his father's passing,and after that he didn't want anything to do with you

When the time came that you finally took control of him,many times Diluc  purposely would try to deny your presence,whispering light insults towards you.Since.. at all times where we're you when he needed you, why had you only shown yourself after everything had already been alright?!

Days turned into weeks, and his faith wavered and surely as the years passed by

it disappeared

Diluc would mentally laugh feeling a playful glare sent towards him after him 'accidently' aimed his claymore in another direction when you were supposed to be aiming at a hillichurl

( you might think Kaeya or Venti would do this instead--yes they would playfully tease you , but I like to think Diluc's reason of doing this is pissing you off out of spite)

Though.. Did his faith really vanish?no. much to his dismay, he was still a worshipper, an acolyte, a devotee, and a vessel

He would be found acknowledging his adoptive brother's ramblings about you..every evening after the door's of Angelshare closes,he would stay and Diluc would ask himself why were you the only subject that seems to make him and Kaeya bond again?

He huffed, he's not one for pride,Diluc usually puts others before himself, but he can't admit he still had just a bit devotion for you! Not after your lack of actions

On his way to the chilly breeze of Dragonspine, he went up to the mountains eyes tired and ready to rest from the snow that pricked his pale skin

He unknowingly admitted in his mind... That he did miss your presence, where you would lead him back to his home and sit him down at the dining table to enjoy the meal that his servants prepared for him

Why was he here again?Of course his thoughts were jumbled, he was in Dragonspine at the brink of death!, the young Ravingdr sighed, his warm breath becoming visible in the cold winter breeze

His legs walks on its own, going towards his supposed destination

Looking up--Albedo's lab was in sight,   he squinted suddenly feeling his heart beating fast though he could not decipher what was the cause of his heart racing for his vision was being covered by the never ending blizzard  

No it can't be, his movements were halted as tears stream down his cheeks, eyes gleaming at your figure with a newfound hope

He again felt your presence

Years of loathing that was once rooted down to his core seemed to disappear with just your mere stare

(e/c) eyes widened looking at a familiar red haired man kneeling down in between the unforgiving snow storm, smiling at your figure

You loudly gasp and shake your companion's shoulders hoping they'll at least be able to understand that you were motioning to save him

Diluc's crimson eyes softened at your pleads, his smile ever so slightly curves up..maybe you weren't such a horrible god after all.

Atlast the uncrowned king of Mondstadt was finally home in your merciful gaze

Lisa

A humble librarian, or so Lisa would like to think she is--We all know before Lisa came back to Mondstadt, she was a scholar from the nation that hailed knowledge and wisdom

she was quite knowledgeable about your origins that were written in the scrolls of the Akedemiya-so with that, she would always loved to flaunt her never-ending knowledge about you

Although the knowledge came to a price when handling a certain book making her lifespan shortened

Maybe,.. It was meant to be?Lisa would try and convince herself making her less guilty for her carelessness

Usually she'd love it when just inside the comfort of her library sorting out the books in its author arrangement,

becoming an adventurer and battling slimes to hillichurls all over Teyvat, is the last thing she'd ever want to do

But maybe for you, she wouldn't mind going out of her comfort zone for a couple of days!

After hearing the news of you having your own body, made her happy!  she never believed her ears and eyes, if not for the divinely presence you held when inside the headquarters

Now with you by her side she would be able to show and read to you her favourite stories and encyclopedias!

Jean

The paperworks left by the grandmaster himself weren't kind to her

While you didn't use her as a vessel she'd stay coped up in her office doing whatever she needed to finish while Jean prays to you as a form of comfort for the incoming mountains of paperwork and missions

The acting grand master also prays for the patience, she out of all people wouldn't want to rush anything even if it means sacrificing her own sanity

After each prayer she'd sigh, expecting a Knight that will come bursting the doors of the office

As she predicted--someone did go inside her office

Jean didn't really want to hear anything the knight had to report today..so she closed her eyes nodding pretending to listen

But listened when-our Creator ___-"

The knight didn't need to say another word before the grandmaster had left her poor subordinate with a hanging mouth and an unfinished sentence 

Just by hearing your name was enough to make the woman from the Gunnhilder clan dash towards the exit 

All of her stress disappeared as she caught the warm color of your gaze staring back at her

Rosaria

She heard of you, but didn't bother to learn more about you.You were just another deity that was hailed and praised ,and as she would everytime there was a mass and homily Rosaria would skip it not bothering to attend even if its about Mondstadts regional archon or about you

But surprisingly when she was possessed by you--she didn't dare to break away from your control whenever you did that

However she does not treat you like a deity, she merely sees you as an 'equal'--which in her eyes makes you one of many an exceptional and respectable beings

But the Knights don't like how she openly views you as she would any mortal, since its common knowledge that you are much more than an 'equal'

And The Knights of Favionious absolutely hate how she just casually walks up to you when she could've at least been courteous enough to greet you 

Though her actions might be mistaken as some sort of taunting to the knights and you, it's really not--It's just her way of showing her own devotion, and much to everyone else's dismay.You seem to calm down with her casual gestures

Ignoring the knight's glares she continues to talk to you as an equal

But there's no denying that deep down everyone can feel that Rosaria is a devotee at heart

Eula

To Eula, her childhood wasn't ideal nor being a part of a clan that everyone rightfully hated

But was it silly of her to pray that she wouldn't be either feared or hated by the people of Mondstadt?Though already greatful for the people in the knights for welcoming her with warm arms.Is it really bad for her to want more praise?

not much is known about you, the moment a godly presence shown itself through the traveler she made it a goal to be a perfect vessel for you

To the point where she wouldn't pray for anything else but to be your perfect vessel. So by the time your physical form descended down in Teyvat-almost immediately praising you and your good deeds hoping that you will appreciate it

Eula won't admit it--but she would love if you were to choose her as your main acolyte

Venti

A God that felt your presence since the first time he was created

And as a small wind spirit he tried his best to show his devotion by giving small apples to a shrine he and his bard friend made!

By as decades passed by,,he isn't the type to praise you endlessly anymore, he did a few ballads about you in his mortal form-that's about it, he wasn't as a crazy worshipper (unlike a certain flying geo- scaled reptile that he would like to call friend from the land of contracts)

He merely see's you as an equal.. (like Rosaria does)

It's my freedom to choose not to! Venti would drunkly exclaim, though he would be upset after he was just rudely kicked out of Angel share because of that

Everyone in Teyvat could look at him with disdain with his response

But don't they understand-- what he suffered because of your absence

The sober part of him regrets and shames himself for disrespecting you

But then again the cycle just repeats

gets drunk.blames you for the death of his friend.then apologies profusely when sober

Though he was also one of your acolytes but he can't help but sometimes despise you.. but other times he'd find himself preaching about you as his hands played with the lyre

So then the bard was still a devotee even when drinking wine?maybe it was just pent-up anger that laced his tongue with terrible words?The citizens of Mondstadt theorize as if they were Sumeru scholars instead

It was confusing to the people of Mondstadt and even more so when the blonde traveler shows up and Venti starts acting as if he didn't spit in your name from time to time

It's still clear that he holds a small hatred to you,but with the confused look in your now physical face he can't help but sympathise you. He'd say sorry a million times of doubting you,Trying to get him forgiveness from you, he himself promised that from now on,

The wind forever will be in your side

La Signora

Rosalyne hated you the moment she came back to Mondstadt from her studies in Sumeru

She can't really see why her coworkers worship you

Especially Pierro

Knowing how his homeland was destroyed by Celestia and their Gods-- and him knowing you were absent during one's time of need

Yet Pierro stood strong in his belief, though wavered it stayed

She can respect him for that but Rosalyne can't say it for herself

the Tsaritsa and the rest of the Fatui would look at her with a disapproving look for how she views you

God complex they say that she has ,and Rosalyne would brush it off ignoring her Archons wishes and rebel instead

La Signora wont be the one who's supposed to apologising, you should be the one grovelling in her feet asking for forgiveness for the lack of actions

with you descending into Teyvat--She can make you beg and kneel for forgiveness,

And maybe she'd grant you her benevolence even if she doesn't have the authority to ever do this self-righteous act

You had no right to praised and loved while you did not do a single thing to make Teyvat in peace

Thoma

News of your descension spreaded across the the never ending storm of Inazuma -the messenger from Mondstadt seemed both petrified (by the storm) and joyous by his safe arrival at Inazuma

He would consider himself somewhat of a religious person, though he would preach the anemo Archons name in Mondstadt

Yours was more universal, seeing as how the Kamisato estate was basically filled with relics that resembled what you were depicted to look like

Not to mention a personal shrine in Inazuma that was given by no other than the Shogun herself

Thoma was beginning to feel sad when he realised when you were so far away from the nation of eternity

You were so closer to him, yet so far, assuming that he couldn't feel your presence through the clouds anymore proves that you actually had descended

All he could do was wait for your shining presence , and his patience and perseverance will be rewarded by you

Small edit: Oct 23, 2022 10:23 pm

Small edit: Dec 16,2022 11:06 am

[cakeandpi]

there’re some songs - popular songs - that i’ve only known as vague mumbling sounds that, when i come back to listen to them years later, i realize there are actually words, like it wasn’t some weird in-joke among people that this ‘vague mumble song’ became popular because everyone else could understand the words, but between me and my hearing and the singer’s awful enunciation, “take these chances” became “da de dan ses”

this might explain part of why i prefer subs and why i have a tendency to rewatch and rewatch and rewatch the same ten seconds trying to hear just wtf was said when there’s not subtitles

[p0orbaby]

Milk and Honey

Summary - After a long day, the Queen asks for your help to unwind.

Warnings - Allusions to sex, Brief nipple play

Authors notes - Something small to get my royal juices flowing. Original request here

Word count - 1.4k

Navigation | Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

The sun was barely above the horizon. Golden and honey like as it poured through the solar windows with a laziness of the final mooring of a ship that spent its life at sea. It was that blissful time of day right before sleep when you let your body deflate and expel the tension of the waking hours. Unfurling the responsibilities that burden your soul and laying them to rest if only for the short hours of the night.

The height of which the room resides deafens you to the boisterous, unstrained heckles of the city folk below. Leaving the song of night owls’ wings to hail unceremoniously against the dusty pink sky. Accompanied by the layered chirp of crickets housed in the castle gardens and the tired sighs of the Queen and her knight settled together in the tub.

Steam rose from the hip bath in slender whisps, disappearing when the chilled air of the room grasped them without consequence. The fragrance from the rose and daisy petals bloomed throughout the space as they floated delicately in the milk coloured water.

“Sometimes I wish to leave this city and head to the harbour in search of a place aboard a ship set for the east”. It is, and always will be, a great pleasure of yours to know the desires of your Queen. Court was a testing place and the way she chooses you to lean in times of weakness is the most honourable thing you could dream to think of.

“That is very easily done, Your Grace. Leave your hand in charge of the realm whilst you tour the free cities without qualms”

“A notion that must remain a dream I’m afraid. We will have to do with the sand of the shores of the capital between our toes. Maybe I could convince the council of a trip to the south in the future. But my presence is needed here at present”

Natalia’s head lolled back against your shoulder in silent defeat. She was reigning through trying times. Her sister, Princess Yelena, caused strife during a war she did not permit. Questions regarding an heir have been frequent since the rumors of Queen Natalia's inability to bear children arose. Whispers of her having romantic relations with her sworn sword are fruitful around the castle. A frightful concept for the court, not only because you had a duty to serve, protect and a vow of chastity, but you were also a woman. The people she ruled over did not favour such accusations.

“Just milk baths and lemon cakes to quell your stresses then?”

“Amongst other things”

Her hands found yours under the translucent water and guided them so they sat flat against her lower abdomen. Her skin was feather soft under your touch as your fingers tickled the skin, causing her muscles to jump with each pass.

“What other things did you have in mind, my queen?”

“Oh, you know. Just the things a maid yearns for when in the private comfort of her bedchamber. The things that, as a monarch, are hard to come by without the expectation of obligation or tradition. Manners of which can occur with ridicule if partook by someone in my position”

“When did you learn the art of talking in riddles my love? I wish to help you with your requests but I cannot if I am unable to decipher what you allude to”

“Politics is all about riddles. I find it melts into my idiolect if I am exposed to it too long. But it makes a fun game of you trying to decrypt my implications”

“A game you say?” A humorous tone underplayed your response. “I’ll bite, if you tell me what I gain in return”

“Is a happy, sated lover not enough for you?”

“I suppose it is. Out with the rules then, or soon the water will be cold”

“It’s quite simple really. You move your hands up and down my body, and I will state warmer or colder the closer or further they get to where I want them”

“Quite simple indeed”

Your hands were already in the perfect spot in the middle of her body. So whichever way you move means the opposite direction if at first incorrect. The initial direction was downwards last her navel, to the top of her pupic area.

“Colder”

“I thought the queen wished to be relieved of tension?”

“I do, but you are cold. So I’d try a different direction if I were you”

If down was inaccurate, up was the only other option. So you made your way back up her stomach, back past her navel and pinched her sides in jest.

A high pitched squeal bounced off of the stone walls at your actions. And a quick involuntary jump almost made a wave of water spill over the sides of the tub.

“Warmer. But I’d avoid those acts if you want the night to end well for you, Y/N”

“I mean no ill will, Natalia. Just an innocent jape. Shall I keep going?”

A nod was all you received in answer to your question. So you placed your hand on her waist again, still this time, before you slid them slowly up her sides.

When your fingers grazed the underside of her breasts you stopped, waiting to gauge her reaction. You were met with a shiver, so even without being told, you knew you were closer to your destination than before.

The next move landed her breast directly into your palms. The soft, heavy orbs of flesh felt familiar in your hands. Massaging them became something which ridded you of your own pressures. For no other reason than you liked the way she rendered herself no more than a puddle from your endeavours.

As a test, you pinched her nipples between your fingers. She gave a hiss as you did but carried out nothing to try and remove your hands from her this time.

“Warmer” she said, now breathless in front of you. If you looked hard enough in the candlelight, you could almost see the shadow of a blush on her neck and chest.

“Only warmer? Looks as though you’re already being relieved of those nerves you speak of, my love. Are you sure you’re not spouting falsehoods?”. Your words were whispered into her ear, instantly sending shivers up her spine. Then providing you with a mewl when you gave a tug and a twist of her now hard buds. “Are you certain you want me to move on?”

“I’m certain”. Her intonation didn’t do much to solidify her wants, but you listened nonetheless.

Releasing her breasts, letting them fall with a gentle bounce, you carried on upwards. Tracing her collar bones once they met your fingertips, earned you more validation that you were headed in the right direction.

“Stop”. She said suddenly, causing your hands to stop where they were placed on her shoulders. “Right there”

“Here? On your shoulders? Forgive me my queen but how would one gain satisfaction from this part of the body” your confusion made her chuckle lightly.

“Grand Maester Banner informed me I hold my anxieties in my shoulders, and it would be beneficial to massage the stiffness out of my muscles”

“And a trained master of medicine wouldn’t be sufficient enough to knead them?”

“They would. But if you do it, we could get started on my more preferred way of stress relief. And I know you’ll be happy to take part in those methods too”

“And what if you’re mistaken? What if you’ve offended me so much to think I would accept the job of a servant? What would you do then?”

Your impede of her plans had her turning around in the water. The splash of water joining the crack of flames in the hearth as she stilled in your lap. Her eyes were as green as the emeralds in the royal jewels, reflecting the fire that mirrored the colour of her hair in the morning sun.

“Because, my knight. If you don’t do what I ever so kindly ask of you, then a punishment may be in order. And I’m not talking about a night or two in the cells. Oh no, for a seasoned fighter like you that would be far too easy. I’m talking about a night of frustration and displeasure. A night of getting so close to the edge yet being pulled back before you can fall. Would you want that instead?”

“Your proposition doesn’t sound much pleasing”

“I thought as much. So you’re going to use your fingers to loosen the muscles in my neck. And once I’m satisfied, you can use them to loosen something else. Agreed?”

“I don’t think I will ever agree to another proposition with such haste, my queen”

Taglist

General Taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @jromanoff @diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx @marrymemcgrath @smileyromanoff @rice-wiife @homiesexyall @wanda-is-my-joker @wackymcstupid @when-wolves-howl @sayah13

N.R Taglist: @strangegardentaco @poptartpoppyy

[luxaryllis]

Brainwashed!Younger Sibling!Reader with Riddle Rosehearts: Part 2

Note: Helloo!! So, here is part 2 of the Brainwashed Younger Sibling! And this is NOT the end of it.

The next part will have the ending (which is guaranteed to be comfort) so yeah!

Also, I'm so sorry for taking so long for all the other requests-

I'll start being very busy like, next week so I'm trying to do as much as I can right now.

Anyway, this one is pure angst, no comfort yet.

Anyway, let's get to it!!

Part 1 | Part 2 (here) | Part 3

Warning/s: Domestic abuse, Child abuse, Trauma, Gaslighting, "Brainwashing" (not actual; see the request for the meaning), (Slight but still there) Objectification, Self-deprecation, Toxicity, Mrs. Rosehearts, Tell me if I forgot something

---

"[Name], is something wrong? You've been breaking rules left and right. I truly wouldn't want to have to punish you, but you've forced my hand. *sigh* Just. Please don't do it again. I truly don't want to have to punish you."

Riddle says with an uncharacteristically gentle voice.

It was something [Name] wasn't used to.

They knew Riddle for his hard frown, loud voice, and stern eyes.

Not this Riddle who had a softer frown, softer voice, and softer eyes. All of which were laced with a strange emotion [Name] couldn't decipher.

Taking a deep breath in, [Name] opened their mouth to say the words that had been drilled into them to say when they broke a rule.

"My sincerest apologies, Rosehearts. I will do better next time."

Everything [Name] said was a lie.

They weren't apologetic; after all, it was what they were taught to do since they were a baby.

And they certainly wouldn't - couldn't - do "better"; since, again, it was what they taught to do.

Just make Riddle shine.

Nothing should be about [Name].

Just Riddle.

Only Riddle.

---

The cycle merely continued.

[Name] would break a rule, and Riddle would scold them, before letting them off.

A few days later, [Name] would break another rule.

And the cycle goes on and on.

All with [Name] having a straight, borderline lifeless facade.

At that point, Riddle had gotten sick and tired of having to deal with [Name].

But Riddle had an inkling feeling as to why [Name] acted so... withdrawn and emotionless.

After all, Riddle knew how their mother can get all the time.

And while he's never really had a chance to connect or spend any time with [Name], he wants to at least try.

Although, with how many rules [Name] has broken, Riddle has gotten very... annoyed. Concerned, yes. But mostly annoyed and irritated; he'd think that [Name] would know better.

So, one day, he decides to finally confront [Name] about their rule-breaking.

---

"This is the 46th rule you've broken this week. It's a Wednesday, [Name]!! Please tell me a good excuse or explanation to your sudden attitude!"

[Name] looks at Riddle with their usual blank face, though Riddle could see their eyes widen a tad smidge.

It was hard to notice, but Riddle has long since learned to notice the smaller, tiny details.

[Name] hasn't been asked for an excuse or an explanation before. Riddle was supposed to collar them, or hit them, or punish them; not ask for a reason.

Riddle's mother never told [Name] how to answer to such questions. Just obey.

So, [Name] didn't speak.

They're like a robot; should always act how it was programmed to and not do anything when coming across something unfamiliar.

It's like those smart voice-activated electronic assistants that merely reply, "Sorry, I do not understand" when asked a question that has no answer in its interface.

[Name] didn't speak nor reply to Riddle. Because they had a lack of sense of free will.

Their entire life, they've had to follow some sort of rule/s.

Their entire life, they've never had a sense of doing something on their own without proper "guidance".

Because if [Name] knows that whatever they do, that isn't orchestrated by Mrs. Rosehearts, is a mistake. A big drop of paint and dirt onto the clean and spotless Rosehearts name.

How they know that? The woman told them, of course.

And the woman is always right.

Of course she is. After all, if she wasn't, then everything would have all been for naught, wouldn't it?

A sigh from Riddle catches [Name]'s attention, bringing them back to reality.

"Please. Just tell me why you keep doing this? If you do so, it would help me greatly in understanding your thought process behind your actions."

"..."

"As your dorm leader, it is important that I do my best to properly discipline my students. As your older brother, it is important that I understand my younger sibling properly."

Riddle continues to pry, hoping to finally get through with [Name].

[Name] still does not budge, but is confused at the last part of what Riddle said. 'As their older brother'...? What does he mean? Riddle and [Name] knows that they share the same blood, as well as the same parents, and are thus biologically related. But... they aren't considered siblings. That is what his mother said, anyway.

'Do not call me your 'mother'. Do not call Riddle your 'brother' either. We may be related by blood, but I can not stand being called such by a mistake like you. In fact, we are removing 'Rosehearts' from your name. From now on, you are simply '[Name]', am I understood?'

The woman said it very clearly to [Name]. And ever since then, they've never called the woman 'mother', or Riddle 'brother'.

So why is Riddle calling a mistake like [Name] his younger sibling...?

They don't understand...

"So, tell me. Why do you keep breaking the rules so much recently?"

That was an order, [Name] knew. They weren't allowed to deny or defy orders.

So, they told the truth.

"Your mother told me that I must do this. I'm simply following instructions."

[Name] replies with an icy and monotonous voice.

Now, Riddle is the one confused.

Mother told [Name] to break the rules? He doesn't understand.

Why would she do such a thing?

"Why would mother tell you to do so?", Riddle voices out his thoughts.

"Because you have been acting too lenient. Mother doesn't like that you have been letting people off for breaking the rules and wishes you to enforce them more. So, I broke rules in order for you to get angry and punish me, making people start following the rules as well."

That was the most [Name] has spoken their entire life. Not that they truly care anyway. They were only supposed to speak when spoken to, otherwise they are to stay silent. That was another order from the woman.

"What...? [Name], why would you do such a thing?! If I ever even do punish you, you'd get hurt!! I've been told by Ace that having {Off With Your Head} cast on them is painful! Why would you willingly do this to yourself?!"

Riddle shouts at [Name], genuinely confused and concerned.

Why would they do that? No one in their right mind would!

[Name] doesn't flinch at Riddle's loud voice (they're used to it) and just blinks in confusion.

Riddle makes a silent gesture for them to answer him and [Name] tries to think of a reply.

"Apologies... but I don't understand what you're talking about."

Before Riddle could ask them again, [Name] continues.

"I was simply following orders. Yes, I am aware of the pain your Unique Magic causes; I've experienced it first hand as well. I see no reason for you to act so concerned."

Riddle sighs, shaking his head. Talking to [Name] has always felt like talking to a wall.

"I'm concerned because you, my younger sibling, is basically trying to harm themselves!! Not to mention the fact that you willingly want me to cast my Unique Magic on you, despite knowing how painful it is!! Of course I'm concerned! I'm your older brother for Great Seven's sake!!"

Riddle blows up at [Name], who, for the first time in such a long time, flinches at Riddle.

Not because of the volume of his voice, but the words that came from his mouth.

For the first time in so long, [Name] feels a certain emotion somehow resurfacing from where [Name] killed them.

What feels like anger started boiling up in [Name] as thoughts started clouding their mind.

How dare he.

How dare he refer to himself as their older brother.

How dare he try to take away all their hardwork.

How dare he try to make them an even bigger mistake and disappointment than they already were.

How dare he resurface these stupid emotions they had tried so hard to kill.

How dare he act so concerned for them after what he did and what he let happen.

How dare he!

[Name] looks down as tears start to flow down their face.

Feeling overwhelmed from the sudden rush of emotions and thoughts, they hear a strange whisper in their head.

'A land of nonsense. Down the rabbit hole. Escape with me. {Curiouser and Curiouser}'

The whisper kept saying the same thing over and over, like a chant.

Something compelled [Name] to follow what the whisper was saying; to say the same thing.

Before [Name] could do anything, their mouth opened and they followed the chant of the whisper in their head.

"A land of nonsense. Down the rabbit hole. Escape with me."

Riddle blinks at the strange words his sibling was saying. His eyes widen when he realizes the influx of magic around them; all of which are coming from [Name].

He realizes that they were unlocking their Unique Magic.

Despite how proud Riddle felt of his younger sibling, he knew that whatever their Unique Magic could do would no doubt do lots of damage (to him, the environment, and most importantly, themselves), from the look on the amount of magic they were using alone.

Riddle grips his magic staff and quickly casts his Unique Magic on them, only for the magic collar to burst into nothingness the moment it made contact with [Name].

"{Curiouser and Curiouser}!", [Name] finishes the spell, and the surroundings immediately distort.

Everything turned and twisted and flipped and... surely you get the point.

There didn't seem to be an endpoint nor a goalpoint to what and how everything kept moving.

The open air garden around Heartslabyul dorm somehow seemed like there were walls, like it was making some sort of room.

Riddle felt dizzy from all the moving.

He started hearing distorted laughter, crying, and so much more.

He started to feel strange. As if he were trapped in a small space - though Riddle knew the "room" was quite large - and unable to get out.

Riddle looks around once more, trying to ignore the strange feelings and sounds.

Everything was colorful and messy. There were doors. Lots of doors. Where they lead to, Riddle didn't know. The doors were in all sorts of shapes and sizes; some were even inverted. Everything, from furniture to books to even strange objects Riddle hasn't seen before, was aimlessly floating around.

The only ones on the ground were Riddle and [Name].

Riddle looks at [Name] to see them breathing heavily (out of adrenaline, he presumes) and at the corner of his eye, he could see some sort of ink coming right for them.

Riddle's eyes widen at the sudden horrible stench in the air. The laughter and crying sounds all became distorted screams, some begging for help, others were asking for something or someone to stop. All of them were in what seemed like [Name]'s voice.

The colorful "room" suddenly turned monochrome. Only shades of white, black, and gray remained.

Everything started dripping with the same ink Riddle saw earlier.

And all the ink was going right for [Name].

As for [Name], everything started feeling so loud.

They could hear the dripping of ink, the occasional clattering of the teacups and utensils, the screams, Riddle's frantic steps, their own heartbeat.

Everything was too much.

It was too much.

This is too much.

[Name] clenches their eyes shut as their legs give out and they fall to the floor. Their hands move to their ears to try drowning out the noise. They move to a fetus position on the floor, knees to their chest and their hands on their ears.

"Someone... please stop it... too noisy... too much..."

Tears start streaming down their face once again, their eyes still clenched as tight as possible.

"[Name]!!", was the last thing they heard before everything just... stopped.

The floating objects just... stopped in mid-air. The ink stopped dripping. The sounds all stopped and everything just... paused.

It was as if the "room" felt merciful to give Riddle and [Name] a moment of reprieve.

A moment.

Then everything came crashing down. Literally.

Everything just fell down and broke into bits and pieces as if it were made of glass.

Even the books and drawers and doors were shattered like glass.

Sounds of everything breaking into pieces echoed everywhere.

It was a grating sound that made Riddle put his hands to his ears before he realized that stuff were going to fall on [Name].

Without thinking, Riddle rushes to the younger one and casts a protective spell on them.

It worked, for the most part, but after around 5 or so things fell on the magic shield, the shield itself broke like glass.

And ink just rushed straight through everything, even Riddle, and engulfed [Name].

[Name], who saw nothing coming, felt extreme pain.

Eveything felt numb; their limbs, their body, and all the sounds felt like they were getting drowned out.

As if someone pushed them underwater.

Riddle heard the most earpiercing scream he's ever heard come from the ink-drowned [Name]. It sounded even more distorted than the sounds a few moments ago.

Realizing what was now going on, Riddle quickly prepared his magic staff to fight the upcoming overblot as he curses himself for not realizing sooner.

---

TO BE CONTINUED!

Here ya go!

Part 3 will come soon, I hope.

Also, [Name]'s Unique magic came from one of the old ideas for the Scared!Younger sibling!Reader for those who still remember.

I felt that it would work pretty well for this one so yeah!

Feedback and comments are very much appreciated!!

Anyway, thank you for reading! 💙

[deeva-arud]

*trumpet sounds* the birthday girl has arrived!

(Interview under the cut)

Deeva Årud Union Birthday – Personal Story

– Part 1 –

Deeva: «Hmm… I wonder who the presenter chosen for today is. It seems they’re bit late. »

Lilia: Good morning, Deeva~!

Deeva: Ah, good morning, Lilia. I suppose you’re in charge of the interview today.

Lilia: I thought I would scare you with my sudden appearance, no luck today either *sniff* Anyways, yes, you’re right. Since we see each other after class, this will feel like our usual meetings at the light music club. We’ll end this in no time!

Lilia: Oh, but before we get into the questions… Here, I have something for you.

Deeva: This is… a keychain?

Lilia: Cute isn’t it? I noticed the ones you have hanging from your violin case and thought that you liked keychains or maybe even collected them.

Lilia: Cater also mentioned me you don’t feel comfortable with people spending their money on you, but you don’t have to worry, this is handmade!

Deeva: I really appreciate the thought, it is indeed a lovely gift. I do like keychains, but I wouldn’t consider myself a collector.

Lilia: Oho? Why is that?

Deeva: If I had a collection of keychains I’d love each of them to be something representative of a place I’ve visited, and since I have never been outside my homeland… Currently I only own three.

Lilia: Is that so… well, it is something you can change. I myself travel a lot, so you can come with me whenever you want.

Deeva: Can I?

Lilia: Absolutely! I wouldn’t mind at all having another companion. In fact, travelling is far more enjoyable with friends.

Deeva: Then I’ll gladly take into account your proposal.

Deeva: Ah, by the way, judging from its charms… is this keychain a gift on behalf of the light music club?

Lilia: Indeed it is. Since we have so few members, it’s like we’re a little family, so I proposed my gift idea to Kalim and Cater and we decided to give your gift a personal touch! See? Each of these little charms represent a member of our club.

Deeva: I see, in that case I’ll cherish it even more, I will hold it close to my heart. Thank you so much.

Lilia: No thanks needed, seeing your rare smile is the best reward. I might even forgive you for not reacting to my jumpscare from before kufufu.

– Part 2 –

Lilia: Okay, let’s begin with the questions! Here is the first one: if you could join any dorm other than Octavinelle, which dorm would you choose?

Deeva: While each dorm has its own charm, I would choose Diasomnia.

Lilia: Ooh that was quick. I hope you’re not trying to please your presenter kufufu~

Deeva: No, I had no intention to do that.

Deeva: I simply think the ambience in Diasomnia seems calm and the students are really straightforward and loyal, which I appreciate greatly.

Lilia: I see, I see. We have some loud people here and there but generally speaking it’s just as you have described. A pretty chill dorm, as the youngsters would say. You would fit there perfectly!

Lilia: I also guess in terms of straightforwardness or loyalty, Octavinelle isn’t the best dorm. You don’t like being here?

Deeva: I don’t dislike Octavinelle, but here it feels like almost everyone hides something behind their words and actions and, even though I am already used to it, sometimes it is a bit tiring trying to decipher what it is going through their minds.

Deeva: If you are not careful, you can accidentally be in debt with someone.

Lilia: That sounds like an experience. You knew you could have transferred dorms, right?

Deeva: Yes, I did. But I still wanted to respect the Dark Mirror’s decision. After some time you can read the intentions of the students here like a book, it’s just a matter of patience. Besides, I find quite useful learning to know when someone is trying to trick you.

Lilia: Fufu I see~, Octavinelle is truly an interesting dorm.

Deeva: You could say so.

Deeva: Returning to the main question, apart from Diasomnia, I also value Scarabia’s resourcefulness, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t last long there. That much sunlight and the high temperatures would be like a nightmare to me.

Lilia: Aah, I have to agree on that. It seems neither of us is made for that kind of environments.

– Part 3 –

Lilia: Next question: who would you choose to be your sibling among all the students of Night Raven College? However, you cannot choose someone from your own dorm.

Deeva: It’s a bit hard for me to imagine having a sibling since I’m an only child… but I believe Deuce would be a good option.

Lilia: Oh, Deuce. He’s a good kid, a little naive, but that’s what makes him fun to mess with. Come to think of it, I’ve also heard he used to be a delinquent.

Deeva: I heard that too, but I think what really matters is that he’s trying his best to become a better version of himself.

Deeva: Admiration for his willpower… you could say that is why I chose him to be my sibling.

Deeva: Even if things don’t come out the way he wants, he keeps trying. Seeing him working hard to achieve his goals would make me really proud as his big sister. And if he struggles with something I could always lend him a hand.

Lilia: You really seem like a reliable older sister! I’d have loved to see his reaction to your words. I bet his face would have been the same shade of red as his dormleader’s hair kufufu.

Lilia: And that brings us to the end of the interview. You know what comes next, don’t you?

Deeva: …The Gift of Good Fortune…

Lilia: Exactly, the Gift of Good Fortune!

Deeva: Please, don’t smile like that, it looks like you’re enjoying this a bit too much.

Lilia: Well, I can’t help it, it is the best part of the interview kufufu, not everyday you get to throw a pie at someone’s face.

Lilia: Just make sure you don’t dodge it or misfortune will haunt you for the rest of the day.

Lilia: Then… ready? Happy Birthday Deeva!

[speuradair]

Maintenance Code | M.A.

Word Count: 732

Contains: fluff, pre-bite of 83, disregard for canon

Requested: nope, just super self-indulgent lmao

“Do you plan on spending your entire paycheck on that stupid machine?” 

Your eyes barely even move from where they’re fixated on the crane game before you, not needing to look into the reflection on the glass to know the exact expression your co-worker was giving you. 

“Michael, I don’t have time for this right now. I’ve only got ten minutes before my break is over and if I don’t have that damn fox plushie by then I’m going to-“

“You’ve been at it all week, how much have you spent on this?” The soft laugh he gave only furthered your frustration. “You know those are only worth, what- $2 tops? You’re just paying to work here, at this point.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response. You knew it was dumb to be so fixated and annoyed by a cheap ‘Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza’ branded prize, but it was a matter of principle now- you’d sunk all of your tips and every minute of your break this week on trying to win it, and you weren’t about to give up now. 

The claw reached down into the pile of stuffed mascots and caught the orange fox only to release it again, the arcade machine blinking and giving a series of downwards beeps in mockery of your repeated failure. Swearing under your breath you were about to stick another 50¢  into the slot when Michael caught your hand. 

“Let me try.” 

You gave him a skeptical look as if trying to decipher if he was mocking you. Finding only sincerity and that soft smile that never failed to set your heart racing, you finally surrendered with a nod. “It’s harder than it looks, you know..” you grumbled indignantly, crossing your arms and stepping aside enough to let him take over the controls. 

He dropped two quarters of his own into the machine and it lit up again. The blue and white lights lit up again, casting his handsome features in neon light. Though those same lights had seemed grating just moments before, they suddenly seemed so flattering when the subject wasn’t your tired eyes, but rather the familiar expression of your boyfriend. It was almost criminal how effortlessly attractive he was- hair falling perfectly around his face, brows creasing just slightly in concentration, the muscles in his hands twitching- it was unfairly distracting. How were you supposed to focus on work (or your clearly much more important task of outsmarting an arcade machine) when he was here? 

You were snapped out of your short-lived daydreams by the sound of the game playing its song again- not the one it had been repeating for you, however, but rather a cheerful, victorious tune. 

Holy shit, he’d actually won it. 

Your lips parted slightly in shock, no words managing to slip out as you watched him lean down towards the prize door beneath the joystick panel before turning to you with a slight smirk. 

“Wha- how the hell did you do that?!” 

“Huh, I guess I’m just good at this game.” Handsome as he may be, that cocky smirk was bordering on obnoxious now. 

Michael had been so distracting, actually, that he’d managed to enter the maintenance code without you noticing. With it he was able to override the forced looseness of the claw and retrieve the toy without any of the trouble you’d been having. 

You rolled your eyes and reached for it, only for him to hold it over his head before you could actually get it. “Ah ah ah- I deserve a reward first, don’t I?” 

“Ugh, You’re such an asshole.” Despite your weak insult and mostly petty frustration, you leaned in to give him a quick kiss all the same. He then traded the fox in his hands for the ability to place his hands on your hips. 

“An asshole who just won that prize for you,” he reminded, voice lacking any sign of remorse. “Pretty romantic, I think.”  

You just rolled your eyes, brushing him off with a dismissive wave of your free hand. You hated that he was right. Though, no matter how annoying he may be, you couldn’t deny the effect he had on you. He was a jerk sometimes, but he was your jerk.

A jerk who just saved you from going home from work at the end of the week with no paycheck to show for it. 

[doctorgerth]

When you have the time later or really whenever you want to- I would love to see how you write Doflamingo, Crocodile, and Mihawk (or Katakuri whichever one is easier!) reacting to their s/o getting all soft out of nowhere and telling them how much they sincerely love and appreciate them. Just some cute fluff hc/reactions- Of course you do not have to if you do not want to! Have a great day Love! <3

a/n: gdi I hate Doffy but man did this make me soft for him I went ahead and added Kata too cuz he is precious. 🤧 these ended up being more like imagines than proper reactions, I hope that’s ok! thanks for sending this in, I enjoy making totally NOT soft characters utter fluff balls perhaps a lil too much 💕

featuring: Doflamingo, Crocodile, Mihawk, & Katakuri x gn!reader

warnings: big scary men being soft for you

REACTING TO YOU SUDDENLY BEING SOFT

〚 “I really love you, you know that?” 〛

⤷ DOFLAMINGO‘s lips drop into a pout, almost a scowl as your sweet words ring in his ears. At first you think you might have caught him off guard or simply pissed him off, but when that infamous grin returns after some time, you feel almost relieved when he responds with a cocky, “Who doesn’t?” You roll your eyes and playfully swat at his chest, which elicits an amused chuckle deep within him as he instantly tangles his slender fingers with yours. You attempt to wriggle away but Doffy pulls you close, colliding his forehead gently against your own, and leans in to place a heavy, prolonged kiss along your pouty lips. He’s silent as he pulls away to stare at you, fingers delicately trailing your skin as if you were glass, the two of you enjoying the quiet morning together. His lips tremble, and he quickly pulls you in for more kisses so you don’t witness him crumbling under your loving gaze. But of course you see it, you can feel it in the slight up curve of his lips as they chase you endlessly, and in this moment, you know what he really means to say is: “Thank you for loving me.”

⤷ CROCODILE immediately stops writing and blankly stares at the paper on his desk, stiffening as the words on his paper which previously spelled out business jargon, now read your loving phrase repeatedly. He stares at it like a foreign text, unable to decipher its meaning. Did you want something? Were you upset with him? His heart drummed loudly in his chest, nearly deafening in the silence as he anxiously waited for the soul crushing but... to follow. Yet when he lifts his head up, you offer him a look so tender, so full of genuine devotion his body ignites from head to toe, those damned butterflies filling his stomach. Crocodile motions you over with a low, “C’mere.” because that’s all he can mutter at the moment. You easily oblige and make home in his lap as he stares up at you, offering you the same look of utter adoration. He places the cigar in the ashtray, deft fingers toying with your hair and grazing along the soft skin of your cheek, before placing a kiss along your jawline. “Now how am I supposed to be the big scary boss when you go around saying cute things like that?” His grin widens with love and a little mischief in his eyes as he squishes your cheeks in one hand, “I love you, my dear, but your charms will surely be the death of me.”

⤷ MIHAWK instinctively freezes as you wrap your arms around him from behind. He’s still not quite used to your affections, though he welcomes them. Just as he begins to relax in your embrace, he feels you mumble that phrase into the fabric of his shirt. He freezes once more, this time dropping the spoon he was using to stir the sauce into the sauce pan. In a frenzy, he retrieves the spoon and hurries to the kitchen sink so as to avoid any further messes on the floor and counter. He remains composed on the outside as he washes the spoon off, but on the inside, he is a flustered mess. It was far from the first time either of you had said those three words, but the way you said it tonight really resonated with him. It felt so surreal, to love and be loved in return, and the way you embraced him as he prepared the two of you dinner felt wondrously domestic. “Mihawk?” You drug him out of his thoughts and as he turned around to see you standing alone in the middle of the room, he knew he would do anything to keep you just like this forever. He approached you, damp hands cupping your cheeks, “Te amo con todo mi corazón.” His lips crashed onto yours as you shared a passionate kiss under the warm kitchen light.

⤷ KATAKURI blushes intensely and buries himself within his scarf, mumbling incoherent phrases about how “embarrassing” and “blunt” you are. Nonetheless, he reaches over to tuck you in, pulling the comforter snug against your cheek as you smile up at him, tired eyes and giddy smile, like an innocent child who is too excited to sleep. Kata’s eyes are focused as they try to look anywhere except you, because you are just too damn cute when you are sleepy like this. He’s sure your confession is nothing other than a slip of the tongue, your mind fuzzy with sleep. Either way, he had to take a couple of breaths to cool his heated cheeks before removing his scarf and crawling into bed with you. Immediately, you snuggle into his chest and sneak a chance to reach up and kiss his exposed lips. The two of you are hesitant to pull away but as you do, he stares at you dreamily behind long lashes, whispering a soft “I know.” You beam once more in victory before crashing against his broad chest. He can’t help but smile as the light of the moon peaking through the window reflects on your hair. He instinctively toys with your loose strands, feeling a sense of peace wash over him as your steady breathing fills the room. “I hope you know how much I really love you.”

If you enjoyed this, please be sure to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog! 🌸

[birdmenanime]

ok this is the last fic for the night because i have class. in 6 hours. uh oh

the whole thing under the cut

He doesn’t know when Karasuma and Takayama’s talks on the rooftop became so common, but it got to the point where every other day he found himself standing a few feet away from him. They’re talking about something nauseating or confusing, as usual, and before Karasuma can try and throw a wrench at the mess, the chimes of the school bell ring. Whatever, I’ll decipher it later.

Karasuma turns to go, before he misses 5th period, again, before a hand grabs at his wrist. He twirls around, confused, coming face to face with Takayama.

“Huh?”

Takayama doesn’t answer, only keeps staring, eyes boring into the other. The attention causes heat to rise in Karasuma’s cheeks. If he squints, maybe, just maybe, a light dusting of color is on Takayama’s face as well.

Out of the corner of Karasuma’s eye, Takayama’s free hand lifts from his side, before landing gently on the other’s cheek. 

But before Karasuma could even process what was happening, a surge of energy erupts from the marking on his back, and a blackout’s shadow begins to form high above. 

Karasuma can see Kamoda’s blackout stick its bald head out, and for some reason, Karasuma is more annoyed than usual about it. He swears he even hears Takayama sigh, before letting go. He quickly transforms and flings into the sky.

Karasuma stands still, not quite getting what just happened. A minute later and Sagisawa bursts from the roof door dramatically, shaking Karasuma out of his thoughts. Above, the blackout is already disintegrating. 

Takayama never elaborates, and Karasuma never asks.

...

In this dream Takayama smiles, his grayscale hair shifting with the nonexistent breeze. It makes Karasuma’s heartbeat so much faster. 

He flips upright, slowly, the ever-shifting light moving with his jet-black wings. 

“Why?” It’s more of a question for himself, for his psyche. Why, out of all the things he can dream about, does he dream about his missing friend? He looks around at the white expanse, taking in the millions of floating feathers. What weird symbolism is this supposed to portray? 

“Karasuma,” The dream Takayama speaks, snapping the teen out of his thoughts. 

“...Yes?”

Takayama’s face is suddenly close, close enough that their noses bump as Takayama slightly cocks his head, shadows flickering to the left of his face. Without color in this world, Takayama’s irises are completely white. His friend’s breath puffs onto Karasuma’s lips as he whispers: “You’re not dreaming.”

Karasuma startles so much that he falls out of his seat. A few of his classmates look over in curiosity, he’s sure one laughs, but Karasuma ignores them, shakily getting up and sitting back down. 

He barely pays attention in class anymore anyways, but he spends the rest of the day replaying the dream in his head.

...

He grabs Takayama by his stupid wingmass collar and pulls him down so their eye level. From aside, he hears Sagisawa squawk, but he doesn’t give a shit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He can see Takayama’s red eyes widen up close. “Why do you think you can just decide everybody’s fate like this?! Who do you think you are?!”

“Y-“

“Shut up! I’m pissed off! I don’t want to hear anything from you! I’m so sick and tired of you running around and doing whatever the fuck you like! Do you even know what damage you're causing?” He can feel his brain split with a searing headache. “You left. You were missing, Takayama! For months! You could’ve been dead, for all we knew! Did you and your prophecy ever think about that?” He practically spits out the last word, blood boiling. Takayama has the audacity to look confused. Confused! It’s just like him to not even understand what he’s done to them. To him. The thought only has Karasuma even more pissed, twisting his hands further into Takayama’s wingmass collar as he feels something unrecognizable bubble in his chest and pull-

Before Karasuma can act, he’s ripped away from Takayama and being held in the air by his wings by Kamoda.

“That’s enough, Ei-Chan.” He says, face laced with concern. “I think he gets it.”

Karasuma blinks a few more times, watches as Takayama slowly comes back to life, getting out of Irene’s grasp. 

“I wasn’t done.” Karasuma croaks, voice cracking, but the feeling in his chest fizzles out. He tries to grab onto it and remember what exactly he wasn’t done with

The realization has Karasuma flushing the deepest red he could get. He was going to kiss him.

“Woah! Calm down!” Kamoda remarks as Karasuma starts wiggling in embarrassment and breaks from Kamoda’s grip, flopping unceremoniously on the ground. 

Just let me rot here.

...

“I just,” Karasuma lets out a shaky breath after his rant, his shoulders trembling. “I don’t even know who you are anymore. It’s like all of your humanity has just...vanished. You’re my friend, and…” He swallows the lump in his throat, before looking up, his eyes watering. “Are you even still in there?”

And Takayama stares at him, blankly. With that same deadpan expression, he’s had since they’d found him. He quietly lifts his hands up, and Karasuma’s voice doesn’t kick up in time to question it as they land on either side of his face, gently cupping his cheeks. Takayama keeps staring, and his eyes furrow the slightest amount in confusion, before readjusting back to normal. He wipes away a budding tear from Karasuma’s eye.

And then he leans in. Karasuma’s eyes stay open as Takayama slowly plants a ghost of a kiss onto his lips, before quietly backing out. 

The Bellwether blinks, processing. His head starts to scream in a headache, in confusion, as it rapidly tries to understand what it means. And in the process tears start to stream out of their own volition. “Why did you do that?”

Takayama’s face is completely neutral, blinking as if he doesn’t even know he’s awake. “I don’t know.” He admits.

The honesty only makes Karasuma cry more. He lets out a confused, broken sob, before he swallows it back up with a large sniffle. Get it together, his brain screams at him. Get it together!

He presses his head into his knees, taking ragged breaths into they even out. He grits his teeth, and forces the bubbling anxiety and grief down, down, until he’s okay. He’s still crying, but it’s better than before. He looks up.

On Takayama’s face, he can see hints of panic and confusion as he states: “I kissed you”

“I noticed that.” 

“Why?”

Karasuma wants to explode. “You think I know?!” He sniffles loudly, wiping at his nose with his wing massed arm.

The other doesn’t seem to hear him, instead staring at his hands. “Why did I…”

It snaps something inside Karasuma. “Could you at least try to think before you act on your instinct? For once?” He’s tired of it. He’s tired of picking up the pieces of his fractured heart and mind every time Takayama did just whatever the fuck he wanted. It makes his blood boil, and if Karasuma was just a bit more of an asshole, he’d sock Takayama in his stupid, impulsive, face.

“Karasuma-“

The teen in question tries to hide his face. He needs to go...he doesn’t even know. Process. Cry some more. Sleep for a million years. “Just...Just save it. I don’t. I don’t even want to talk about this right now.”

He stands to leave, wiping his knees and unfurling his wings, when he hears it.

“What does it mean when you want to kiss someone?”

Karasuma twirls around on the foot he was about to launch off with. “What?” 

The wild-haired teen pouts, eyebrows furrowed as he genuinely thinks. “What does it-“

“I heard you the first time,” Karasuma hisses, heat flaring up. “But why are you even asking this?” 

“I kissed you.” Takayama says, again, slowly, for the second time that day.

“I know, I was there.”

Takayama stands up, his wings fluttering around him, wrapping themselves swiftly around his form.

“Do you-“

“Are you seriously asking me this?! Why do you think you kissed me, idiot!”

“I don’t know-“

“Well how the hell am I supposed to know if you don’t?”

“Why do people kiss?” Takayama’s red eyes are fully open, curious, desperately trying to figure something out.

“Because-“ Karasuma balks, flushes, trips over his own words as he plays it in his head. “Because they like each other.” 

Takayama thinks for a moment. “I like our friends. But I wouldn’t want to kiss them.”

“It’s...It’s a different form of ‘like,’ Takayama. You’ve had people confess to you, they asked you out, they liked you.”

“I know, but I didn’t get it.”

“Oh my god, are you 10?!” Karasuma yipes flails his arms around. “They wanted to date you! You kiss someone when you want to date them, hang out with them, all of that! Kissing is intimate between couples, so friends don’t do it!”

“We’re friends.”

“I know.”

“So why do I want to kiss you?”

“Like I said, Takayama, I don’t know-“ He chokes on his words as he processes Takayama’s question. “You want to kiss me again?” 

Takayama seems just as shocked as Karasuma is, the silence falling on them both. It’s unfair how fast Karasuma’s heart is beating, right now. The wild haired boy shifts, for a moment, glancing off to the side before asking:

“...Can I?”

Could he? Should he? Wasn’t Karasuma crying over him a mere 5 minutes prior? His throat still burns hot from the sobs and he’s sure his cheeks are stained with tears. 

But Karasuma cares more for Takayama than he could have ever imagined. More than he could’ve ever bargained for, going as far to travel across the world and stick with him through his delusions of a prophecy. Sagisawa has teased him relentlessly over this, over the past few months, but Karasuma had never listened. It hurt to think about. He didn’t have time to nurture wounds for a boy that left with no remorse. Instead, he pushed all those feelings down, far down, into his subconscious and hoped they’d never resurface. But who was he kidding, all it took was a glance and a smile for everything to come racing back, traitorous heart and all.

“Okay.” He surprises himself when he says it, his ears burning. “I don’t know how to kiss someone.” He refuses to think about the fact Takayama was his first kiss, and that he cried immediately after.

“I...don’t either.” Takayama nods. “I kinda just...went off instinct.”

“You barely touched my lips, anyways.” Karasuma grumbles, hoping it’ll quell his thundering heart. “Not much of a first kiss.”

The other smiles a bit at the jab. “I’ll try to make it up to you.”

“You-!! You can’t just say smooth stuff l-like that out of nowhere, you’re going to kill me!” Takayama only smiles again, takes a small step forward. Karasuma takes a deep breath, before he screws his eyes shut (nose wrinkling) as he anticipates Takayama to lean in.

It doesn’t really work. Takayama puts too much force into the kiss, and they end up smacking their foreheads together, causing Karasuma to grunt as pain blossoms from his nose. 

“Sorry.”

“S’okay,” He replies, scrunching his face and rubbing at his nose. “Too much force, though.” Since when did this turn into a lesson? This is a bad idea. He knows it, but his heart betrays him by continuing to flip at the sight of the other.

They stand there awkwardly for a moment until Karasuma grows impatient.

“So what does this mean!?”

Takayama blinks. “Hm?”

“What does this mean for us!” His face is heating up, again. “Because I absolutely refuse to just walk away like this didn’t just happen without even talking about it!”

Takayama shrugs. 

“Don’t just shrug!” He screeches, before smacking a hand on top of his face. “Ughh, of course this has to be difficult. Okay, look. I won’t say I don’t,” he coughs, “enjoy kissing you.” He ignores the shadowed grin emitting from the other. “But...I don’t think either of us are in the position to date right now. Especially with this prophecy thing and whatever else is going on with you, and like.” He gestures frantically in the air. “These past 10 minutes have been a rollercoaster of emotions, and I honestly don’t know what to think of you right now. And I don’t want to date someone when I can barely understand what they’re saying. Communication is important, you know! The key to any base of a relationship! And I don’t think we have that. A relationship is more than just kissing and physical affection or whatever. And I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to date you, it’s just, I don’t want to date you if nothing about us is going to change. I don’t want you to think you can continue to go off the deep end and continue to keep me in the dark, and then just turn around and kiss me whenever you feel like it. It doesn’t work like that, I don’t work like that,” Karasuma huffs, feeling more energy drain out as he talks. “But I honestly don’t expect you to shift away from the prophecy anytime soon to think about a relationship, so I think it'd be better if we just...didn’t, for now. Until things are figured out; our feelings, our future, the fate of the world, the prophecy, all of that. Understand?”

He looks over to Takayama, whose face is hidden in shadows. “...I understand.” It’s a whisper.

Karasuma lets out a sigh, before slowly reaching out and grabbing Takayama’s hand, focusing on what to convey that words just can’t quite express. He thinks by the end of it, what he’s settled on is a promise. It’s both terrifying and freeing. Karasuma tears his eyes away from their conjoined hands to look into the other’s eyes, and Takayama seems almost...sad. Bittersweet, perhaps. 

...

They don’t talk about it for almost two years. 

The Bird Club had long returned back to Tokyo, all attempting to adjust back to normal life (as normal as it can be, being seraphs known all across the world). 

It starts with a bouquet of flowers on his desk. Karasuma had opened the door of his room after a grueling day of schoolwork and hashing out plans with Barbara, only to spot them. Red roses adorned with black and white Calla Lilies, green leaves spilling out from the sides.

The window was open, the breeze making the curtains billow around the gift. There’s no tag, but there doesn’t need to be one. 

Karasuma stares quizzically at it, feeling his face flare up as he gently takes one of the petals in hand. Glancing out the window, he’s expecting to maybe see Takayama up in the sky, or even sitting on his roof, but the 17-year-old is nowhere to be seen. Karasuma huffs. What is he up to…?

The next day after that, Takayama shows up at his window, knocking politely on the glass.

Karasuma scowls, putting down his book and then going to open the window. “Yes?”

Takayama hands over a plain, white box. “For you.”

“Hm?” He places it down on the counter for a moment, then carefully opens the lid to reveal a slice of chocolate cake. “You brought me cake?”

“Mhm,” The other teen smiles, “As a treat. You’ve been working hard.” And with it, he extends his wings and kicks off into the air, leaving Karasuma to smile thoughtfully, as he lifts the fork inside the box, and cuts into it.

It becomes a trend, where every couple of days, Takayama hands or leaves behind a small treat or gift for him. Sometimes they were random items (geodes or shiny pebbles, assorted seashells, crabs or sushi), but other times they were actual gifts.

“Good morning.” Takayama greets, a few months later, as Karasuma yawns and closes the door to his house.

“You’re here early.” 

“Mhm.” He hands over a small lidded cup. “Here.”

Karasuma peers at it, an eyebrow raised. “What’s this?” He takes a sip. “You got me coffee?” 

“Yeah.”

Karasuma takes another sip. “How’d you even know my order?” 

“Sagisawa.” 

“Well,” Karasuma says, “Thank you. I really needed one.”

“I actually...have one more gift,” Takayama admits.

“Hm?”

The taller teen reaches his hand forward, tenderly brushing a lock of hair behind Karasuma’s ear. And then he’s leaning down to press their lips together. Karasuma’s eyes flutter closed as he exhales through his nose. Takayama breaks it a few moments later, but doesn’t stray far, resting his forehead on the other’s. “Have we figured it out?”

Karasuma starts to question his statement when Takayama’s memory flashes across his eyes. I don’t think either of us are in the position to date right now...Until we figure things out. 

He takes a sharp intake of breath. “I don’t know, have we?”

“I think I have.” Takayama responds. 

“W-well,” Karasuma’s confidence sputters as his cheeks burn, “U-uhm-“

“Karasuma,” The other doesn’t give him the chance to finish his thought. “I like you.” 

Karasuma lets out a small squeak, his heart thundering against his ribcage so much he’s afraid it’ll break through. It doesn’t help when Takayama takes one of Karasuma’s hands into his own, fingers smoothing over his knuckles. 

“If you’d let me,” Takayama continues, voice soft, “I want to take you on a date.” 

Karasuma swears something in his brain snaps, and he’s left gaping for a moment in shock, before snapping his jaw back up and blurting out: “Okay,” his voice cracking at the last note.

He watches as the other’s face breaks into a blinding smile. 

[impostortale]

Tool ask: Dude, calm down. Just count to ten, think about relaxing place, do a long breathe and lay on the snow. Your brain needs freedom from problems, these psychopatic halucinations will kill you, but... We are with you, so, lrets play a "words" game? Just liie "apple" - "elephant" - "town". I start: "Death, blood, kill..."Okay, stop, dont cry, thats just a joke you know? Normally, uhm... "Snowman" - and you?

Warnings:

Description of 'dying'/'bleeding'

Basically angst

Bad?? writing?? idk

There was very little strength left in his bones at this point. Energy poured out of his throat, trickling down and seeping into his clothes. It'd soon fizzle out, dissolving into the air.

He could still see messages appearing in his vision, but the words blurred and flickered, mixing into one another. His head spun trying to decipher the words growing stranger and stranger, the meanings of each fading with each flicker of darkness blocking his sight.

Though he managed to read one in its entirety.

"...I'm calm."

For the first time in so long, he was at peace. He knew the heaviness in his limbs were a cause for worry. He knew that he should be scared of the haze slowly eating away at his consciousness. He knew that the voices of the masks aren't supposed to fade— they screamed and cried, not wanting to disappear. But strangely enough, he felt... free.

"I won't die, technically..." His voice was soft, unlike moments before when he was screaming his throat raw. "Don't worry... I'm... only resting." He hoped it would be permanent, despite the small scared voice begging him to keep them alive.  “You guys don’t have to stay with me for this, you know?”

He deserves worse. He deserves to suffer for all eternity for what he's done. But he can't do this anymore. Being alive will eventually lead to more problems, right? Tool was a burden on all who loved him.

The mention of a relaxing place brought up memories of a garden. A familiar set of mismatched eyes blinking at him. Arms pulling him close, pressed against the soft fabric of a pink sweater.  He could imagine the warmth blanketing over him.

Maybe he was loved. Alas, the people that would've taken in him regardless of his flaws are dead by his own hands. Maybe Ceru would still let him into his room at his house but... that's only because he's too nice to say no.

A part of him blamed Ceru. He never wanted this. He didn't ask for this. He was happy alone. But it's happened again and again and—

When the observant joked, Tool only faintly smiled. He didn't have any energy left to spare for tears. Crying was impossible, even if he were to try his best.

He felt his eyes droop, tired. His time will soon end, the promise of rest like a cold embrace. "Observant... if you insist... I will play the game, then."

Humor the observants one last time, why not? He won't be getting anything out of this, but that's okay. He was grateful enough for the company. Being alone was... suffocating.

A snowman... so his word will start with N.  What starts with N?

“Night.”

And the world melts away.

[siriusmydeer]

Sirius x twin!reader where he runs away and doesn't say goodbye or anything, and they've always had a bad relationship because reader is like regulus and sirius is, well, sirius. baso angst where the reader is now ignoring sirius at hogwarts and sirius is trying to talk to her which is strange because before it was the other way round. she snaps and tells sirius how he knew what would happen if she ran away, and it was that she would get twice as many bad things to make up for sirius not (1)

the forgotten sister

sirius black x fem!twin!slytherin!reader

summary: sirius leaves you with aching despair the the faults that comes with being a black heir.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: child abuse, arranged marriage, angst, mentions of being imprisoned, mentions of death, mentions of violence, being disowned, mentions of death eaters, bad mental health, insinuation of depression, insinuation of a panic attack and bad sibling relationships

a/n: rate this cuz idk how to write angst but this has been sitting in my inbox for so long i’m so sorry

despair.

dejection.

guilt.

it was clear as day in your thought-stricken mind, without a second thought it ran thickly through your families veins for generations. every single heir of the noble house of black had the one ranging emotion of anything in a malicious, loathsome, vile and horrid context.

brothers, they were suppose to protect their siblings, love and nurture them above anyone else. they were suppose to kiss your forehead when you were sad, play with your barbies till they wanted to rip out their eyes because you had nobody else to play with, they were suppose to show another emotion than trepidation.

twins, the bond shared between them in unmatchable to any other sibling, they shared a womb for nine months, a direct bond, no seperation for nine months, thirty nine weeks, two hundred and seventy three days, a total of six hundred, five thousand and seventy hours together. a bond that should last a lifetime, of happiness, absentminded chuckles, homeliness, and love.

that’s what it should have, that’s how it should look in the peering eyes of anyone who had looked upon the similar featured siblings.

sixteen years, the only thing you had receiving in attempts of happiness, absentminded chuckles, homeliness, and love; but not everybody got what they wanted, in return you had received the raw sickly end of despair, dejection and guilt. what could such a young girl do to upset her brother from the very second her life begun? since the first weep that left sirius’ mouth, it almost felt like a duty ringing through your brain like a recurrent lullaby rather than a curse to be ignored by your family, and to only serve them when they deemed necessary for your forgotten presence.

rather than the lullaby on how a spider ran up a web, the only word familiar words in your brain since the ripe age of six was ‘crucio.’ the red tinging flare that sped across your living room like a jolt of lightening from the sky had just become a familiar sight to see at while your panic stricken figure strided through your house for just a few seconds more of peace.

dense words could be shared with your twin, not even a ‘good morning’ on most days. maybe a subtle nod when he first saw you as you both woke from your slumber if you were lucky, maybe even a sparing glance once or twice throughout the day. the first and last born female at the hands of walburga and orion black was simply ignored, a nobody, absolutely and completely nothing.

atleast sirius was there, he may not have spoke to you, or even looked in your direction but his presence in the dreadful household could’ve been enough, enough to put your blearing mind at ease for the night. that you had survived another day, that the next passing day his presence still comforted you because he was still there, that even though he didn’t protect you; he could protect regulus when he deemed fit, and as much as it put you in a absentminded agony, you appreciated his efforts to your youngest brother.

the following morning you woke up, his presence was diminished. his aura had vanished, the pungent smell of nicotine had left no trace on the stygian walls, the husk smell of expensive leather no longer enveloped in your ventilation and the irritating scent of his nose itching cologne was in absentia.

twin-tuition the muggles muttered, when two siblings who shared a whom could know almost everything and anything about each other without a second blip of thought. the walk to his room was excruciating, because in your heart his comforting presence had fled. the pink floyd and beatles posters had been torn from the walls, the mahogany wood from his drawers had been completely dismembered and his closet had been utterly ransacked.

he had left; he had left you.

that was the feeling of despair.

not even a note in his absence, not an explanation, not a second thought, sirius was gone; and sirius was not ever coming back.

the duration of the winter ‘holidays’ had seemingly passed slower than usual with the absence of your brother, the dismembering two weeks had finally been put on hold on your mind. finally finding the will to get out of your bed and put your mental health back to where it could’ve functioned at a less than normal way, the usual way. except you were sent back onto the hogwarts express only clinging onto the younger brother you had left, mind you he would’ve went off the second he stepped aboard but three seconds with your brother could’ve put you off for nine hours.

there was no will to try, no persuasive black ‘i get what i want’ attitude left churning in your system, the feeling of disgust trembling through your veins that your family would never accept you as long as you remained ‘y/n’ and not ‘y/n black,’ so you had to do what was right to protect regulus. because even though his nurturing feelings were inattentive, you would still do what was necessary to protect him.

if you weren’t the keen resemblance of your family you could’ve believed that you were adopted, having no will to become a follower of the dark lord, and no will to produce dark magic.

yet, you did what you had to do, an action that in no way would have been thought about for you; but you had what the other noble heirs lacked, compassion.

every corner you turned you had no will to search for the gryffindor brunette, your eyes didn’t erratically search for his searing silver irises, you didn’t attempt to decipher the red and gold colours from the green and silver that could’ve been crowded amongst the library, or the great hall. any will you had left for the receiving end of love from your family had utterly vanished.

that was the feeling of dejection.

sirius knew that prior years to hogwarts that you had rapidly searched for him in every single corner, mind you even there was a possibility he wasn’t there; you never faltered, you still gaped intently. it gave him the slight aching pain that he carried with himself, but the viridescent green you wore had him believing that you were simply no better than lucius malfoy or evan rosier.

it began to itch at his neck that you no longer had the need to know if he cared, if he was in the same room as you, if you even had the decree to call him your brother anymore. seemingly, you were always in between the walls of the library, a vermillion, maybe amber hued book sturdy between your hands in your grasp as you flipped the pages.

if you hadn’t shared the infamous last name, people would have never believed the two of you were what you called siblings, twin brother and sister. the epitome prankster, outgoing, and womanizer of hogwarts, the timid, skittish, quiet pureblood slytherin; and they just happened to share the same blood.

the female twin adorned reading, not because each book had different words carved upon its ivory paper, and not because there were hidden messages upon the words she so happen to enjoy deciphering but she loved reading partially because it allowed her to cry over someone else’s sadness when she could no longer identify her own.

her heart left sunken, submerged into somebody else’s misery because her own feelings enough weren’t able to bare.

he was silent for once, his mouth not barking up a laugh with his mates, he wasn’t sauntering around like he owned hogwarts himself, he was timidly walking into the depths of the library that were hidden from students. he was suddenly thoughtless, but his mind was not clear, and now face to face with the ghost of his sister; someone whom he had no intention to know, but now the wave of empathy ridden into his bloodstream as he saw the sudden tears glaze her eyes.

“you— you don’t look for me anymore. i noticed that, you don’t try and, try and look.” he started almost rudely, the first sentence he had ever uttered to his sibling was assumably how she didn’t care for his presence anymore. he was unable to produce many words at his shock, his nimble fingers anxiously shoving themselves into the grey slacks he had boughten for this years semester.

“i tried, at first. but you’re not worth a look anymore, sirius, because everywhere i go, the shadow of you is all i see.” as you contributed your words they only continued to be more broken, and stammered. the whimper in your tone clear as day as you spoke to someone you once called family, and now a sudden stranger.

“you left sirius, you left your sister, you left your brother. you left the people that needed you most because you’re selfish, you were thinking of you, not of us. so you don’t fucking deserve to be considered anymore, you don’t earn my respect on being thought about, sirius,” you were tired, achingly tired of fighting. you were tremendously exhausted of trying to fight for just a tinge of acknowledgments from your family members.

“you knew if you ran and you didn’t take us with you it would get worse, and you did it anyway. that makes you a coward, i guess the sorting hat does make mistakes after all.” you concluded, now wearied from your brother suddenly giving you the time of day when you don’t care to yearn for it anymore. his decisions affecting you single-handedly the most, your emotions no longer considering his aching feelings as his sister dismissed him at the similar treatment you had recurrently received.

“now i’ve got this penetrating, life altering ink on my wrist, because of your foolish actions. i have to pay for it, and a husband awaiting me. so now that you’re going all cry baby on me because i don’t try and find you anymore, you can stick your dreary where it came from because your damage is done.”

he had no thoughts, no words, completely ambushed. his older twin sister, someone whomst he adorned as his role model as a young boy, something he would never admit to as a child due to his stubborn nature, was now a death eater and profused in an arranged marriage because he couldn’t give a thought about his despairing twin. but now sirius had finally revived the raw end of the final emotion,

he had felt the emotion of guilt.

because even though he was trying to scoundrel some effort of empathy towards you the only thing displayed in front of him was the way your eyes spoke a thousand words but no one ever took the time to read them.

he never took time to read them.

“you need to leave— you need to run! w—why are you still there?” he started to hastily question as he peered at you erratically. his mind suddenly starting to boggle with questions as to why you would keep yourself in such a harmful situation, why you wouldn’t just run like he did.

it was simple to you, you weren’t selfish, you weren’t sirius.

“because i cannot leave regulus in that god forsaken house, the dark lord and his pesky followers would find me, and our parents would torture me, and murder me without remorse.” you finished, saying it too him like you had scribbled it upon a paper and practiced reading it every night like you were preparing for an exam, as if you would be questioned and persuaded to leave under the hands of your parents.

“i heard you— with regulus, you wanted to take him but not me. you almost brought him with you to the potters,” you revealed to the gryffindor, finally having the will to tell him clearly, on how he had wronged you in life and that there was absolutely nothing he could do to fix his actions.

“why do you never pick me sirius? why do you not want me as your sister? ‘ve always tried to protect you, why haven’t you done the same?!” at first your tone was monotone, almost dead but as your words continued your patience grew shorter and your rage grew larger.

your hand further having to clasp over your mouth by the end of your sentence before your classmates would’ve have gotten curious, and nosy at the altercation that was happening between the death eater and the disowned behind the shelves.

“i don’t— i don’t know, i just, s’different.” he was left thinking in confusion as to why he treated you differently, maybe it’s because you were the eldest, maybe you were female and in his eyes you possibly resembled his mother, maybe he had absolutely no idea as to why he treated you different.

“you dont— you don’t know? suddenly when i don’t give a shit about you, your yearning for your older sisters love. well guess what sirius, you’re not going to get it. your damage is done and there’s nothing to reverse it; so bugger off with your gryffindor mates, and your new family. if you want regulus to have a decent life from what he can live left, take him now before they take him too.” you concluded,

your first and last conversation occurring with your brother, several words left unsaid as you left him dumbfounded in the library, feeling the shoulder on shoulder collision as you left.

breathe in, breathe out. simple, again, again, again. the valley of tears were almost screaming at your waterline to let loose, to cry, to scream, to do something, anything. perhaps instead, you stood astonishingly still inside the girls lavatory, thinking, just thinking.

‘what did i do in my past life to deserve this now’ it was a simple and clear question, one that could never be answered, one without an explanation.

but yet you yearned for such a simple, yet complicated answer, maybe in another life sirius had the will to know you, your parents had the decree to love you, and maybe you weren’t sent down a path of affliction.

but that was another life, it wasn’t yours.

time went by, seconds, minutes, hours, weeks and years. they flew by, and now you were no longer that sixteen year old girl. you were eighteen, dressed in ivory with a small train at your feet, makeup painted on your eyelids, a small veil placed onto your head and your hands throughly squeezed in another’s; with the dreadful matching injected ink into your inner left fore-arms.

as the years had flew to that moment, lost was a lovely place to find yourself, but it simply wasn’t enough; it would never be enough. you had to wear the mask, ever noble heir of black had their own personal one, the one that covered every detailed flaw of you.

because after watching both of your brother’s, your supposed nurturers, your protectors, the ones that were suppose to love each and every bit of your aching soul left, you never realized how strong you had to be until being strong was your only choice that remained.

because in essence happiness is just blissful delusion, that esentially wouldn’t last forever no matter how exceedingly much you pleaded to merlin for it too last a second, maybe a minute if you were lucky.

but noble heirs of black weren’t lucky, they were cursed. and now you were finally brought upon to carry the tradition your children would be barred with, now carrying the last name of ‘dolohov.’

still remembering clear as day, like the sun was beaming into your viewpoint that one conversation you had shared with sirius in the library. the despairing love still left in your heart for your brother, your brother who stood up for regulus.

no matter how much they dismissed you as their protector, as their sister, as someone who loved them, you would always carry love for them in your trembling heart. after the amount of curses you took in their place, the screaming threats, the weeps from both of your brothers that stained your clothes, the times you had to face your parents in their absence.

you still had love for them, even if it wasn’t returned.

perhaps someday when you found the courage you crawl back home, beaten, defeated, maybe half dead. but not as long as you could remember the mark of family embedded into your heart, and your arm.

the noble heir’s of black, imprisoned, dead, and married off.

taglist: @fific7 @wisedreamcatcher @kittykylax @ronbrokemyheart @aspiringsloth20 @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @msmb @fangouria @five-cups-of-coffee @dracofknmalfoy @emmaev @serenitywilderness @artemis1orion @sirius-animagus @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @kirascottage @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul

[a-detraque-barista]

Seorilian

Yandere Alien Kim Namjoon x Alien Reader

Genre: Space au, yandere (later), joonie’s kind of a dicc in this

Word Count: 1.7k+

A/N: this has been sitting in my wips for a w h i l e, but here is the first part of my new series <3

The tell-tale bright red light flashed over and over, alarming all those around that an emergency is occurring. A faint robotic voice speaking in a language you can’t understand.

Maybe something along the lines of “a prisoner has escaped” or “the Martian has broken out of their cell and took down three, now five guards”. You would’ve known if you hadn’t skipped over the universal language course.

Now how the fuck were you supposed to get off this ship? It’s a maze with no end. Countless guards and soldiers try to stop you but you take them down just as you had been trained to do. The last thing you want is to be taken back to their planet and questioned for whatever objective they wish to achieve with capturing a Martian. By the looks of the written language along the endless corridors, you think it’s Seorilian, home of the intelligent yet brutal extraterrestrial race.

You laugh at the sight of two guards running into each other as if they were in a cartoon. This made the Seorilians even angrier due to being mocked, something that didn’t happen often. With newfound anger and motive, the guards chased after you as you ran down yet another hallway. Blindly turning again and again until sliding down a flight of stairs that appeared to lead to the lowest level of the ship. 

Your eyes still had not adjusted to the stark contrast in lighting so you ran towards, hoping it would lead you to an exit of some sort. Your irises finally adjusted to allow as much light in as possible, to let you be able to see the door you were running towards.

If only you were able to read what the sign on the door said. It could be anything from an escape pod room, to a waste dump, or to even where off-duty guards and soldiers waited for their next shift. 

You could only find out if you could open the door, that was locked with a voice scanner security system. Meaning, you would have to sound like someone of authority on this ship and speak their language. 

Your lungs burned and the muscles in your legs were twitching from the strain you’ve put them through. You were tired and there was no other visible way out. The beings behind you were yelling at you. 

So you slowly raise your hands for them to see, surrendering to the ones who were going to take you to be experimented on.

The Seorilians were always ones to study the unknown. Picking apart their subjects to see how they work and what secrets may lie beneath the surface. Seorilians were never able to get their hands on a Martian before, so you being the first was most definitely not something to be proud of. Who could blame you though? Being taken straight from your mentor’s grip as all she could do was reach out for you. She was an Earthan, being restricted to however long her oxygen tube would reach. You just hope she was able to alert your fellow warriors.

Your hands were immediately restrained in heavy iron cuffs with a chain attaching to the cuffs around your ankles. The guards dragged you to the pilot’s den, throwing you in the steel cage they kept for more violent and dangerous prisoners such as yourself. The cage was small, there wasn’t even enough room for another being. The Seorilians went on and on about something you couldn’t decipher. Their language is one of the most complex tongues in the universe. 

It took merely ten minutes to arrive at their home planet. The dull grey planet was in the middle of its winter season. Thin clouds began to collide with others, making them a shade darker every time they fused with more. A climate feature only the Seorilian planet contained. Mars rarely ever got clouds, you wonder what they look like from underneath them.

Your thoughts were interrupted when civilization was now in sight. Countless beings roamed around, advanced technology helping some, other spaceships flew around and past the one you were in. You’ve never seen so many people in one area before. You couldn’t help but lean against the bars to try and take a closer look out of the window. Your eyes were filled with wonder and curiosity.

One of the crewmen noticed your movement and found himself staring at you. He’s never seen someone so excited to see his planet. Then again, he’s never seen a Martian in person. His eyes scanned your appearance. Your skin had a red tint, contrasting their porcelain-like skin. Your eyes were like what Earthans call ‘demons’. Your eyeballs were black and your irises were red, surrounding your black pupils. Your scaly tail was bound to your torso by a separate chain they had wrapped around you. He’s never seen a being like you before. He was borderline entranced by you. Their leader was going to like you very much.

“Begin research on the Martian immediately,” the translator deciphered to you from the words the Seorilian leader had announced.

The leader being, Kim Namjoon, as the translator introduced you. His dark eyes were, without a doubt, intimidating. The way they looked right into you with nothing but irritation was terrifying. His men could beat you all they wanted and he wouldn’t care. The leader would suck in his cheeks ever so slightly, giving the effect of him looking pissed. Once the guards told him you were a Martian, his stoic face turned sadistic. 

“A fine specimen to experiment on,” as the translator said.

Your crimson eyes bored into his amber ones, refusing to show your fear. You wouldn’t let this fuck with your mind just yet. You can hate yourself all you want when you get back home safely. Whether that be with the help of your kind or by yourself.

The translator gave you a look of pity before you were taken away to a lower level of the palace. Screams, yells, and cries could be heard as they dragged you down the long and dark corridor. There were too many species to count. Every single one had their own cell, yours being down by the end.

One soldier held a gun to the back of your head while the other undid your shackles. Pushing you in the cell, they chuckled while making their way back to the lift. Your cell consisted of a scratchy mat on the floor and...a hole in the floor across from it. 

There’s no way in Pluto, you’re going to be staying here. One thing Martians were known for was being able to improvise. You took the mat from the floor and wrapped it around two of the electric bars holding you in the cell. The mat was thick enough to absorb the right amount electricity so you can only feel a light zap every now and then.

These bars were made with a flaw. The bars were weak from the constant energy running through them. So you wrapped both of your hands and your tail around the mat and pulled with all your strength. The bars broke causing sparks to flow around the cell but you jumped through opening and ran towards the lift you had been brought down on.

More yells and shouts came from the other prisoners but you didn’t slow down. You remember which floor you entered the castle on, hopefully there was a back entrance where you can avoid the majority of the soldiers and guards. You had no idea how you were going to get off this planet. You couldn’t even manage to get off one of their ships.

You quickly made your way through what seemed to be the kitchen. Knives and pans were thrown at you, all missing their target. Just as you had hoped, there was a back door to this place. Swinging it open, you were met with none other than Kim Namjoon. His smirk grew before knocking you out with some kind of laser gun.

Namjoon looked down at you on the floor. The fact you managed to even get out of the cell was impressive, he had to admit. He’s beginning to see why Martians were always so good at avoiding him and his constant attempts to capture at least one of you. The universe knew very little about your kind but Namjoon was going to change that. He’s going to find out everything he can about you and your planet. Obviously, locking you up wasn’t going to work. 

He’s going to have to gain your trust, no matter what.

Your eyelids fluttered open, burning from the intruding light. You were no longer laying on the ground. Instead, you were laying in a plush bed, covered in soft blankets. This was more comfortable than your own bed at home. You sighed, this was nice.

…

Right, this wasn’t your bed. You shot up and looked around the room. The walls were an iridescent color you’ve never seen before. The floor matching the walls. A large circular window was in the wall to your left, showing all the spaceships, flying cars, and magne-trains that were passing by.

Amazing. You’ve never seen such advancement on one planet before. Mars only really had hover-bikes and bullet trains. Martians focused more on economic and environmental improvement.

“Finally, you’re awake,” Namjoon had snuck in through the door and watched your awing expression with amusement.

Your head snapped to face him. Now that he wasn’t sitting or ambushing you, you finally realized just how tall he was. The natural sunlight hit his porcelain skin at an angle in which it caused his skin to look almost as iridescent as the walls.

How pretty…

“Come on, you’ll have time to ogle at me all you want over lunch,” he turned around to leave but you stayed in your spot on the bed.

Lunch? As if you were going to join this bastard in a meal. He wants to experiment on you, not caring about what will actually happen to you. He probably wouldn’t care if you died during one of the experiments. He’d just say, “Ah well, time to get another one.”

He noticed your lack of movement and gave you one of the scariest death stares you’ve ever received. Quickly you kick the blankets off while stumbling to your feet. You had to stay alive long enough for you to escape. Even if that meant getting humiliated for the time being.

@mwitsmejk @kooksmataes