#every kid is connected to a cartel and every kid thinks that being The Most Violent is a goal

[pigeontakeover]

Also shout out to my kindergarten teacher for being a pedophile and shout out to my first grade classmates for my first experience getting beat up by a group of people and shout to my first grade teacher for deciding to punish me and no one else because i fought back! I hope all of yall fucking died in a house fire

[amargurafms]

karol g + she/her + female – have you seen maria fernanda “ mafe ” jaramillo around los angeles? the twenty nine year old is usually jamming to pa que retozen by tego calderon. word around the city is that they’re enchanting, yet, they can also be vindictive, but you didn’t hear that from me. they’re currently a multi platinum recording artist and actress and are typically seen walking the streets of los angeles with their small pup lucho. when i think of them, i think of the hot pink tresses cascading down her back, the smell of chanel chance eau tendre and the usual glint of devil in her hues. let’s hope the city treats them good!

tw : mafia / crime / broken family / cartel life / death / murder.

maria fernanda " mafe " jarammilo was born on devils night ( or at lease thats what her grandmother used to say ) , born two minutes earlier than her twin brother at 3:00 am on october 31st, in medellin colombia. she was the first girl out of five boys , everyone who laid eyes on her enamored with the prized jewel of the jaramillo family. her life was anything but normal , being much more privileged than most of the people that she encountered , at a young age she didn't know much about , what it meant to be a jaramillo. she was aware that her family was well respected , never having to wait for anything , being fed from a gold spoon ( literally ) and having anything that her heart desired.when camilo was born , it was like she had her own personal little doll to play with. she adored him , with every being in her soul, protected him from her fathers righteous ways and her older brothers bullying , at the youngest jaramillo. she never thought that she could love someone as much as her little brother but as the grew older , she realized that having the last name jaramillo , wasn't all it was cracked out to be. though as she got older, she learned what would happen if anyone disrespected , anyone with the last name jaramillo, DEATH was the only revenge.

she was about twelve , when her eldest brother and her twin decided to go to business . she was in charge of making sure that everything was ready for their return, though what she didn't expect was to only welcome one brother back , the other one was gone : killed by the mexican cartels orders. since that moment everything changed , her mother decided that she didn't want the same life for her younger kids , especially not for camilo. pepa and herself , already had a taste and even though , she could level with it , violence was pepa's own vice : something that he could not quite quit . so that was it , their life in colombia had ended and miami it was. her father had some connections down here, people who still valued and idolized their family name , as crazy as it sounded.

music helped her deal with her life , it helped her sort of go to a world where their was an escape. where her life seemed just a very bad nightmare. miami was ideal but it wasn't colombia. she missed the food , she missed the people . god , she missed her ocean. on her fifteenth birthday , her mother wanted to do this big party for her. everyone who was someone , was going to show up. they were out looking through some ideas on what she wanted but nothing seemed to stick out to her , so they had one last party planner to meet with. as they were making their way to the car , mafe had forgotten her phone and decided to go back for it. it all happened in a split second , the loud BOOM echoed around her , smoke filling up her hues , the sharp noise that echoed in her ears seemed to distract her from looking for her mother. it wasn't until she looked for her that she saw the car up in flames. by the time she wanted to run and check on her mother, people were holding her back and the rest was simply a blur.

a lot of things changed for the whole family, sunday dinners had become meetings and there wasn't much life in the household. pepa and mafe decided to try their luck in the city of dreams and luckily enough , both of them were known for something more than just the cartel family. their faces changed peoples perspective of them , the twins were doing what they did best and that was putting on a show , a damn good one at that. it wasn't long til mafe met someone , this one took her for a loop. she thought that love could save her, and after just a few months they decided to marry. she thought this could save her, this could heal her but as the day came, she ran ----- she ran and never looked back. leaving the man that could have loved her, could have given her a good life but deep down she didn't need anyone to take care of her , she would do that all by herself.

[astridmontilla]

— BASICS

Name: Astrid Montilla Age / D.O.B.: 28 / December 17th, 1995 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: GNC, She/her, & Asexual Biromantic Hometown: Bronx, NYC Affiliation: The Cortázar Cartel Job position: Driver for the Cortázars, owner of a small tabletop and trading card game shop called The Dice Gremlin Education: High school graduate, completed two semesters of community college and dropped out Relationship status: Single Children: None Positive traits: imaginative, quirky, curious, organized, uninhibited Negative traits: impulsive, rowdy, temperamental, melodramatic, gossipy

— BIOGRAPHY

Her half-brother had always told her that she wasn’t cut out for the life he led, that it wasn’t glamorous and exciting like Astrid seemed to think when she was younger. Their parents were gone, though, so for  a while it was only them - and the Cartel became more like a second family to her, much to her brother’s dismay. For as long as she could remember, it was ‘don’t follow in my footsteps. focus on your stories. get your schoolwork done.’ And she listened. For a while.

Astrid finished high school, with slightly above average marks, but by the time college rolled around, she was just burnt out. Nothing about school appealed to her anymore, and she was increasingly worried about the mess her brother was getting in. He’d come home too tired, too high, too bloody, and leave again in the middle of the night while she was sleeping. Every moment she set aside to talk to him, he’d blow it off. And he wasn’t bringing home anymore money.

One day, he just never came home. Missing is what the official call was. Presumed dead, but they never found a body.

She dropped out of classes the day she got the news, and threw herself into odd job after odd job. Often, that meant being put behind the wheel while some of her and her brother’s friends did drug runs or robbed a bodega. Stupid, sure, but she was getting a cut of the money and that helped pay the rent.

Her day job chipped away at the rest of the bills - and it was her original dream before she fell in with the exact crowd that her brother wanted her to stay away from. Her friend owned The Dice Gremlin before they sold it to her for practical pennies, saying it was useless. Back then, it was nothing more than a shitty hole in the wall place for them and their friends to get drunk and trash it.

She split the time between cleaning it up for some of the kids in the neighborhood to come and get away from all the shit life wanted to throw at them, and her nights were filled with high speed and adrenaline, whooping yells into the night sky while she embraced a life that maybe was always meant to be her destiny.

Astrid doesn’t regret falling in with the Cartel, though, and honestly loves the life - as hard as it can be -  which is precisely why she thinks her brother never wanted it for her.

There’s still a prickly feeling in the back of her mind on the day to day, though, always wondering what had really happened to her brother eight years ago. She doesn’t have the resources, or the smarts, to pour any of that into an investigation of her own- but she’s increasingly more suspicious as time passes.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

FRIENDS OF HER BROTHERS; She fell in hard with this group after her brother went missing. They’re also all Cartel and are the ones that got Astrid in.

CUSTOMERS; Regulars who stop by The Dice Gremlin for themselves or people in their lives who enjoy that sort of thing.

ROOMMATES/NEIGHBORS; What it says on the tin!

ENEMIES IN ARMS; Someone she has to work with in the Cartel, but they don’t get along for whatever reason. Maybe there’s a botched job in their past or future.

MENTOR; Either in the Cartel or out of it, someone she looks up to and helps her navigate life now that most of her family is gone.

Any & all other platonic type connections!!

[mafefms]

excuse me did you see karol g hanging around palmwood studios? oh no, that was maria fernanda “mafe” jaramillo, the twenty-eight year old who plays charlotte o'brien on screeching queens. yeah, you know rumour has it they’re superficial and divaish, but their fans all say they’re honest and compassionate. the soundtrack to their life would probably be the hills by the weekend, and when i think of them, i think of the aroma of chanel ( eau tendre ), the diamond chocker glistening around her neck and colorful tresses, that change depending on her mood. ( cis female, she/her )

tw: mafia / murder / homicide / cartel / depression

maria fernanda " mafe " jaramillo was born on devils night ( or at lease thats what her grandmother used to say ) , born two minutes earlier than her twin brother at 10:00 pm on october 31st, in medellin colombia. she was the first girl out of five boys , everyone who laid eyes on her enamored with the prized jewel of the jaramillo family. her life was anything but normal , being much more privileged than most of the people that she encountered , at a young age she didn't know much about , what it meant to be a jaramillo. she was aware that her family was well respected , never having to wait for anything , being fed from a gold spoon ( literally ) and having anything that her heart desired.when camilo was born , it was like she had her own personal little doll to play with. she adored him , with every being in her soul, protected him from her fathers righteous ways and her older brothers bullying , at the youngest jaramillo. she never thought that she could love someone as much as her little brother but as the grew older , she realized that having the last name jaramillo , wasn't all it was cracked out to be. though as she got older, she learned what would happen if anyone disrespected , anyone with the last name jaramillo, DEATH was the only revenge.

she was about eleven , when her eldest brother and her twin decided to go to business . she was in charge of making sure that everything was ready for their return, though what she didn't expect was to only welcome one brother back , the other one was gone : killed by the mexican cartels orders. since that moment everything changed , her mother decided that she didn't want the same life for her younger kids , especially not for camilo. pepa and herself , already had a taste and even though , she could level with it , violence was pepa's own vice : something that he could not quite quit . so that was it , their life in colombia had ended and miami it was. her father had some connections down here, people who still valued and idolized their family name , as crazy as it sounded.

music helped her deal with her life , it helped her sort of go to a world where their was an escape. where her life seemed just a very bad nightmare. miami was ideal but it wasn't colombia. she missed the food , she missed the people . god , she missed her ocean. on her fifteenth birthday , her mother wanted to do this big party for her. everyone who was someone , was going to show up. they were out looking through some ideas on what she wanted but nothing seemed to stick out to her , so they had one last party planner to meet with. as they were making their way to the car , mafe had forgotten her phone and decided to go back for it. it all happened in a split second , the loud BOOM echoed around her , smoke filling up her hues , the sharp noise that echoed in her ears seemed to distract her from looking for her mother. it wasn't until she looked for her that she saw the car up in flames. by the time she wanted to run and check on her mother, people were holding her back and the rest was simply a blur.

alot of things changed for the whole family, sunday dinners had become meetings and there wasn't much life in the household. pepa and mafe decided to try their luck in the city of dreams and luckily enough , both of them were known for something more than just the cartel family. their faces changed peoples perspective of them , the twins were doing what they did best and that was putting on a show , a dam good one at that. pepa began acting in small things , while mafe was on billboards and shortly after became the face of dior. it wasn't until pepa began raving about palmwood that she decided to take a look into it , charlotte's character had her name all over it. it only took a few hours to get the callback and she was starring on palmwood, look out world :

HERE SHE COMES 🌸

[vanwolffen]

As a Mexican living in Mexico I can say two things.

There are Mexicans of every color. One friend in High-school had long blond hair and he had eyes that were blue-green.

An aunt of mine is super blonde and tall. One of her kids has a lightet color of skin and he was called "güero" when he was young.

I am the one that has the darkest skin but my hair is curly because at some point some of my ancestors were black. And curly hair is not a very Mexican trait, we are called Chinos, which was the caste of black and indigenous people that was the slave servant that worked the domestic affairs, mostly the kitchen.

People say there is no racism in Mexico, that it's only classism, but I have been followed in malls and even accused of casing a house just for walking down the street in an affluent neighborhood.

What I'm trying to say is, there are issues that you would never relate to even if you were fully Mexican.

As a middle class mexican my problems don't compare to those of people living in poverty in the south of the country. I can pass as a regular Mexican and have a better treatment than some Afro Mexicans.

My life is quite different from that of the people living in the north, or the ones living in Mexico city.

Nor do I want to deal with the cartels like the people living in Michoacan do. I respect them and understand their struggle but I don't want to go in the mountains, nor do they want me there.

Your grandma is old-school. It's a problem as old as Mexico. There were dozens of castas, at the top was the white colonial, at the bottom was the black slave.

Since the conquest of the Americas, not just Mexico, the people under Spanish rule had the goal to "mejorar la raza", to better the race, it is a saying you can hear to this day. People wanted their children to marry whiter so their children could have "full rights".

They were aware of their struggles, and they wanted them to have a better life, even at the cost of their culture. This is one of the reasons why we speak Spanish in most of Mexico and not Nahuatl or Mayan.

I'm sorry you feel you lost a connection to our culture.

It is your culture too and you are right to reclaim it.

And finally, Mexico is not an exclusive culture, it is an inclusive culture, if you come with true interest and respect you will be welcomed anywhere.

As Chavela Vargas said, "Un Mexicano nace donde se le da la chingada gana," a Mexican is born wherever the fuck we want.

Want to be more Mexican?

Listen to Mariachi, and be open to Norteño and Banda.

Read about Mexican Folklore. Mexica gods are the ones we learn most at school, Mayan gods are very similar. Think Roman vs Greek gods.

Mexican history is quite simple. There are three periods of prehispanic history. Pre-classsic, classic and post-classic, all the civilizations fit in these three periods of time.

Don't fall for the colonialist review of history of these civilizations being behind in their advances.

After that it's 300 years of Spanish rule and then 200 years of one war after another, mostly liberals vs conservatives. People wanting rights vs people that want the church and a colonial rule.

Finally, the last colonial power that screwed us over was Netherlands, when they stole the only chance we had a the world cup. Pinches Holandeses, nos robaron el mundial.

Also. OP, love all of your comics and artwork.

No one made any distinction to me when I was growing up when a word wasn’t English. Andale was just another way to be told “hurry up,” and I was certain other parents told their kids, “Watch your cabesa,” when getting into the car. I laughed myself sick the first time I saw Dragon Ball Z because a ladies name was Chi Chi and I only knew that meant boobs.

All my moms family was brown and I desperately wished I was too. I wanted beautiful black hair like my mom and dark skin that didn’t burn. I didn’t like when people asked my mother if she was my nanny when they saw us together. I didn’t like that people told me I looked like my dad. They just meant I was pale.

I’d proudly announce to people that I was Mexican and become furious when they gaped or disbelieved me. My dads side has no cultural roots. When questioned my dad shrugs and says, “English maybe? I dunno.” I just wanted to be Mexican growing up. Alas, I’m only a quarter descendant of an immigrant family who vehemently didn’t want to be Mexican.

My great grandmother announced that we were American now, not Mexican. She embraced American culture as much as possible, while never learning English. My nana was put into school and punished anytime she spoke Spanish. She got caught halfway between both languages. Forced to spend her childhood raising her younger siblings she never learned to cook tamales with her mother and her friends.

When she had her own children she didn’t teach them Spanish. She used it to gossip with her own friends about them on the phone and resisted teaching them more than to come running when she shouted “Araña!” to kill a spider for her.

Thus came my mom, with her brown skin and dark hair, adrift from her culture but treated as lesser by her adopted one. My great grandmother would rejoice to see me as her descendant, white, ignorant of Spanish, the perfect American she wanted her family to be.

When I was born my nana shouted, “What’s that red on her?” only to realize it was my hair. She delighted in her palest grandchild, telling me often I was her favorite.

I’m used to the disbelief now when I tell people I’m Mexican. I can laugh and show pictures of my mom. My friend from work joked to me that I’m always coming out of the closet, over and over, because both my minority statuses aren’t as visible as her black skin.

I was recently lamenting this to a white southern friend the same one I cast psychic damage on during a DnD day. “I wish I could feel more connected to my culture, but I’d be such a fraud pretending my life is the same as other Hispanic people.”

“Skin color doesn’t matter,” he announced blithely to the choked outrage of our Indian friend in the kitchen, “You’re just as Mexican!”

I regarded him in astonishment and said, “I think skin color matters a lot. I am Mexican, but I don’t have the same cultural roots or experiences of people who are perceived as Mexican. My family didn’t pass the cultural heritage down. I think a lot of immigrant kids feel this way but it’s different for me.”

He rambled about how I’m just as valid and I quietly disregarded his advice. I could try to reconnect with my roots, but I know I’d just be another white girl pushing into a POC space.

Instead I make tamales by myself, sweating over the steaming corn husks, and I snap at people who make racist jokes about my family to me, feeling safe because my skin is the same color as theirs.

[foxzcomics]

DSMP Sanders Sides AU?

This is an AU me and my friend came up with (they don’t have a tumblr, if they do get one I’ll tag them), this is very much a Work in progress (W.I.P), but we’ve had some fun with it. The basic premise is that every member of the SMP has their own sides. It’s a known fact, so it’s not weird to see someone talking to themself. People can’t see each other's sides, you can only see your own, (Tommy can’t see Ranboo’s sides, but Ranboo can see his own sides) (I hope that makes sense) I won’t go too in depth in this post, just a basic overview of what me and my friend came up with. We haven’t done all the characters in the SMP, these are all the ones we’ve done so far.

The characters we have done and their sides are under the cut.

Starting off with Tommy sides, we have: Tommy has two Chaos sides, Disk Innit, and Patriot Innit. Disk Innit embodies mostly harmless fun, mainly when Tommy started the drug van with Wilbur, the cartel, and silly money making schemes that tend to involve drug dealers. Disk Innit doesn’t want to hurt anyone, he just wants to annoy them or make them laugh. Patriot Innit is a different story. He causes problems on purpose, and likes to cause others issues. Patriot Innit is the one who gets into the wars and conflicts, and even starts them. However, he is very loyal, and will fight for what he cares for till the very end. Loud Innit is the embodiment of just how much Tommy screams and yells, and other such things. He embodies the need for attention, for people to see Tommy and acknowledge him. He hates being ignored, and people disagreeing with him. He’s known to buddy up with both chaos sides a lot. Clingy Innit is well, Tommy’s clingy side. He’s a very shy side, and doesn’t fully interact as much. He’s the one who calls others clingy, and when people call him out for being clingy, Clingy Innit will back off fast (mostly replaced with a chaos side or Loud Innit). Clingy Innit hates the idea of losing those he cares for, and has strong opinions about everyone. They buddy up with Loud Innit sometimes when they’re feeling brave, which isn’t often. Finally, we have Exile Innit. This is the side that deals with most of Tommy’s trauma. He’s the fight or flight, the one who eats the gapples when he feels the slightest bit of danger, the panic from an unexpected noise. He’s the opposite of Loud Innit, preferring to slink away and keep safe rather than be seen or heard in fear of being hurt again. He rarely works with the other sides, preferring to stay secluded.

Then we have Awesamdude. His sides are: Dad, the one who cares a lot about any of the children on the server, mostly Tommy. He worries about Tommy constantly, and is very protective over him and the other children. He is stubborn and refuses to give up on those he cares for. Warden, the one who runs the prison. He’s strict, uncaring, and his top priority is the prison and making sure Dream doesn’t escape. He does care about the others, but they're not his top priority. Warden doesn’t get along with the other sides, he wants to, but he puts his job first. So he’ll listen to the other sides when he can, as long as it doesn’t hinder his work. He and Dad have a rocky relationship, Dad thinks he could care more, Warden thinks Dad cares too much about the others. Then he has Valentine. Valentine cares deeply for Ponk, and wants to save him from the egg, and to spend as much time as he can with Ponk. Valentine and Dad get along, but Valentine and Warden have a horrible relationship, and have even gotten into physical fights with each other. Sam has a hard time with his sides, as they never seem to get along, and it makes things much harder than it has to be.

Badboyhalo’s sides are: Wholesomeboyhalo, a kind hearted and sweet demon. He just wants to make sure everything is kid friendly and doesn’t like conflict that much. He cares deeply for his friends as well. Wholesomeboyhalo represents just the overall vibe that BBH wants to keep around himself, where people are happy and don’t make crude or mean jokes. He’s happy most of the time, and a joy to be around. Annoyedboyhalo is the side for whenever BBH gets annoyed about anything. He’s quick to call people out and not afraid to yell. He and Wholesomeboyhalo are friends, as annoyedboyhalo wants to keep wholesome happy, and mostly shows up whenever someone curses or is crude. He’s also very petty, and almost constantly stressed out. He needs sleep. LANGUAGEboyhalo wasn’t originally a side. He was kind of the fusion of Wholesome and Annoyed, and with it being common for them to work at the same time when yelling at anyone who makes an adult joke or says any curse words, LANGUAGE just, ended up popping into existence to fill the role. LANGUAGEboyhalo shows up whenever someone curses or says anything suggestive. He gets along with Wholesomeboyhalo and Annoyedboyhalo, though he doesn’t like Tommy. Piningboyhalo came around when they met Skeppy, mainly because of how Skeppy and Bad’s lives are intertwined. He cares deeply for Skeppy and is very protective as well. He’s also been nicknamed ‘clingyboyhalo’ and ‘jealousboyhalo’, and has given up on fighting the nicknames. He’s willing to do anything to keep Skeppy safe. Anything. Dadboyhalo is a combination of when Wholesome and LANGUAGE have influence. He isn’t an actual side, but is distinct enough to have the nickname. Typically ‘shows up’ when Sapnap is around. T̹̅-̱͍̠̼̎͐̈̈́_̧̤̟́̿̚ ̧̧͈̥̬̏̈͊̐͘5̣̪̰̇̿͞!̭͛ ͔͖̺̳̓̅̿͡ ̛̹͇͒̍͟_̳̣̝̩͙̈́͆̒̑̒ 

We also have Skeppy’s: Clingy is very attached to all of Skeppy’s friends, and willing to fight for them to the death. He’s the one who is connected to BBH’s life, and the one who gets jealous over things. He doesn’t like even the idea of losing the people he cares for. Chaos, also known as Chaos in Control, or Let’s Cause Problems on Purpose, is Skeppy’s chaotic side. He likes to crack jokes, make pranks, and in general be absolutely feral. He and clingy sometimes butt heads, as his antics get’s Bad angry, and that makes Clingy sad. Flirt is an interesting side. Flirt only flirts with BBH, which is odd, because there are no sides that have only one purpose. Flirt likes to hang out with Chaos, when they team up it typically ends in an angry BBH, but Flirt seems to get distant after that. Skeppy and the others don’t really like to talk with flirt often. No one asks about the side. _͚̦͕̑́͂7̪̼́̎͑ͅ-̡̨̗̥̔̓̓͡ ͔̤̼͊̀̉̓͢3͈̺͓̞̇͐͐̾g̡̘̏͆͒ͅ_̨̹̼̙̓̈́̄̎

[gallavictorious]

For the Gallavich Ask - #’s 10, 11 & 22. 💕

10. Favourite headcanon

Going to cheat slightly by directing you towards this old ficlet and accompanying meta of mine, because it does remain my favourite, I think.

To offer something new... while Mickey certainly didn't have (or look for) any romantic connections or actual relationships down in Mexico he did hook up with people and was out, both as gay and as a bottom. On the one hand, this might be slightly unrealistic because I'm not sure the cartel would be super accepting of it, but anything else would feel like an unfortunate regression for Mickey and make his choice of giving everything else up to go help  Ian far less impactful, so this is my story and I'm sticking with it. I actually have quite a few thoughts on this, especially in relation to 11x03, and might develop it into meta proper at some point.

11. Favourite dialogue/line/quote

To be honest, most of my favourite instances of Gallavich communication are non-verbal – they say so much with just looks and expressions and sometimes little touches, and to me that's one of the most intriguing aspects of their relationship, and one of the aspects that make it seem the most natural and real. For instance, I love “he isn't afraid to kiss me” - not so much because the line itself is very special, but because of everything it signifies: Ian taking a stand for himself and pushing for more instead of allowing Mickey to entirely dictate the terms of their relationship. Now that he is reasonably confident that Mickey would like to kiss him and does have actual and very real feelings for Ian he is growing tired of Mickey's reticience, so the frustration is real – but the way (indirect but ultimately challenging) he puts his implied demand is designed to make giving in easy for Mickey. That's a strategically sound choice, of course, since it makes Ian getting what he wants all the likelier, but it's also kind of sweet? Ian calls Mickey out and he pushes, but he doesn't push too far and he still respect Mickey's boundaries. And then there's that look on Mickey's face... He knows exactly what Ian's really saying and asking for, and he has to concede that yeah, Ian's got a point. (Also he really, really wants to kiss Ian, and I guess that he, too, is getting pretty damned tired of pretending that he doen't.)

Somewhat in the same vein, the “Mick. Wait.” of 11x04 is just glorious. Ian knows he's being played but what can he do but give in? Not a damned thing, and that makes him so frustrated (partly because he can absolutely imagine that smug smirk on Mickey's face).

Other hits include:

“Hey, asshole, weren't you listening? We're doing a murder thing here.” That's right, Mickey, don't let Lip derail your homocidial scheme! Eyes on the prize! Also, way to include your fiancé in your plans! That's some proper relationshipping right there! As they saying goes, couples who kill old homophobic Nazi fathers stay together.

“That's gorgerous.” I love that Mickey feels comfortable enough to let himself care about flowers! Being vocal about his desire not only to have flowers but the right flowers! @dreamylyfe-x recently wrote a very nice meta on this. (I am totally planning to get back to that one and Have Opinions because it's a fascinating discussion, but I am also a total flake so yeah.) There's also something about Mickey having a casual and perfectly civil (until it isn't) interaction that doesn't involve crime or scams or violence that gets to me. (In a comparison I doubt anyone but me will get this line reminds me of Darth Vader's “Yes, Admiral, what is I?” in Empire Strikes back, another not at all important or special line that I absolutely adore. I'm not kidding, that's my favourite Vader line.)

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, they're the hipster shit, with the suspenders and the harp and all that, huh. Yeah, you're going to that.” Listen, very few things give me more life than Ian's absolute vindictive glee here. God, that smile! It makes me cackle in delight every damned time. You had it coming, Mick.

“I, Ian, take you, Mickey.” I don't have to explain this one to you guys. You know.

… oh were you supposed to pick one? Tough titties.

22. Favourite episode

I am very fond of 7x11, though I don't watch it nearly as often as I watch other episodes. The goodbye at the end is just too damn painful, even though it's incredibly beautiful and feels right. Them parting here always makes me think of Damon Salavatore's line in The Vampire Diaries: “It's right. Not just right now.” Oh, and a few lines from Alex the Astronaut's Happy Song: “you know that I love you / but I think it's over / will it still be over, always?” One day I will learn to make GIF:s and make a set to these lyrics, just see if I don't! (I probably won't.)

Ian's teary eyes and then that tremulous but genuinely happy and relieved smile as Mickey makes it across the border... There's so much love and loss and – I think – gratitude there; the sharp pain of saying a final farewell to someone you love mingling with the thankful joy of having known that love in the first place. And it's a moment of finding freedom for Ian, too; not because he's letting go of Mickey but because he's letting go of his old (and failed) strategy to deal with being seperated from him. No longer will he try to lessen the loss by lessening what they had; this time he allows his love for Mickey, allows it to matter and hurt, and he doesn't shy from the pain of seperation. Ungh. It's perfect, but it's heartbreaking. I can't imagine how I'd have reacted if I'd watched it as it aired, since it hits this hard even going into it knowing that Ian and Mickey will reunite.

Intrestingly enough, this episode doesn't contain one single of my favourite Gallavich scenes, but it just works very well as an episode. It encapsulates both their chaotic energy and their sweet tenderness, even as it illustrates their relevant differences, and it has a well-defined arc with a great (if painful) emotional pay-off. And the non-Gallavich stuff is very good too! (Contrast with 10x11, which I think have a good and well-contained Gallavich storyline with a nice payoff, and which incidentally contains both one of my favourite scenes – the flower shop – and one of my least favourite scenes – the caterer – but I am very meh about the non-Gallavich stuff.)

Also, Ian and Mickey also looks absolutely gorgerous in this one and there's manhandling. Surely that's as close to perfection as heaven will allow.

(The episodes I watch most often would probably be 3x03, 4x11, and 10x12.)

[emachinescat]

Explosion + Hands + Jack

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump ​ day 22 - burned

Summary: A bomb Mac is disposing of goes off prematurely – and Mac’s hands pay the price. Or, the time when Jack has to be Mac's hands. 

Characters: Mac, Jack

Words: 2,945

TW: Relatively graphic description of burns

Note: This story is based loosely off a scene from classic MacGyver. Also, please take the vague MacGyverism with a grain of salt. I did some research (and also wrote this before Mac made the same thing a different way on the newest episode), but I also took some creative liberties.

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this!

"These have to be the stupidest bad guys I've ever met," Jack griped. He sat in an old dining chair, ankles lashed together with rope and hands tied behind his back. MacGyver was his mirror image, tied similarly, in another chair, back to back with his partner. Their bound hands had been connected to each other, so every time Mac moved, working the ropes, Jack's arms jerked with him.

Even though he couldn't see Mac's face, he could clearly picture the raised eyebrow in his mind's eye as Mac responded dryly, "And you're… complaining about it?"

A cramp ran through Jack's upper back, and he instinctively rolled his shoulders. Mac squawked indignantly as Jack's movement impeded his progress. "Hey, watch it! You almost made me stab myself!"

"Sorry." Jack paused for a brief moment, trying not to think about why Mac was working so feverishly to cut through the thick ropes with his knife – seriously, they hadn't taken his knife before they'd tied them up! – without cutting himself or Jack. "You about got it, hoss?"

Mac's voice was strained with concentration when he responded. "Just … about," he grunted. "Keep talking."

Jack smirked. "Can't get enough of hearing ol' Jack's wisdom, huh?"

"It's more like white noise, but if it makes you feel better…"

"It does." Jack continued on his earlier line of conversation. "I'm just sayin', man, these lunatics didn't leave nobody here to keep an eye on us, and they left Angus MacGyver tied with regular ol' rope with his SAK in his pocket and a room stock fulla toys he can use to escape." When he spoke, Jack's Texas drawl was thicker than usual. He'd noticed that his accent got more pronounced when he was nervous or in a rough situation. He'd mentioned it to Mac once, and his partner had quickly informed him that it was more than likely a coping mechanism, Jack's way of unconsciously trying to keep himself calm. Jack disagreed. He was convinced that his cowboy twang got heavier in nerve wracking situations because he was actively channeling the spirit of Clint Eastwood and his mind and body were preparing him to do some insanely awesome hero stuff to fix the situation.

"Yeah, well… they also left a bomb in the room," Mac reasoned. Jack could feel the sawing motion as Mac carefully made his way through the rope. Any other time, Jack knew that he would have cut through it in half the time, but with all four of their collective hands gathered together in one bundle of scratchy rope, Mac had to move slowly, methodically, so he didn't cut either one of them. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem for him to take his time, but as Mac had so helpfully pointed out, there was the matter of a ticking bomb just out of arm's reach. And they had no idea how much time was left.

Jack tried to paint their situation in a better light. "It's just a little one. The explosion won't even be all that big."

"No," Mac agreed, "but with all the gasoline they scattered around us, I think it's a safe bet that the size of the explosion won't matter, since we'll burn with the warehouse."

A snap, a sigh of relief, and then Jack felt Mac move in the chair, and knew he was bending forward to untie his feet. As soon as he was free, Mac pelted forward so quickly that he pushed the chairs back a couple of inches, Jack and all. He didn't stop to untie Jack – no time – but he did leave the SAK in his palm. Jack immediately started sawing at his own ropes.

He was still working when he heard Mac swear loudly from somewhere behind him. A queasy dread settled in Jack's gut.

"Talk to me, Mac!"

"No time!" Mac spat, and Jack knew, heart stuttering, that his partner wasn't just saying that he had no time to talk – there was no time on the bomb.

"I can't disarm it!" Mac yelled, his voice growing farther away as he ran, presumably with the bomb in tow, away from Jack. "I'm going to try to contain it!"

Jack continued to cut at the ropes – almost there! He heard the sound of something metal being pried open, and he remembered that there was a large dumpster near the door of the warehouse, one of those industrial ones. Hope rose cautiously within him. Mac had done similar things before; there was no reason why it shouldn't work this time!

The one thing that he didn't factor in, however, was the bomb's timer running out before Mac could close the dumpster.

He heard the explosion, a terrible, anguished scream, and then, the worst sound of all – low, uncontrollable, rocking sobs of pain.

Jack cut himself three times in his haste to get free, but he made it to Mac's side in less than a minute. What he saw made his stomach curdle and his hands shake as he pulled Mac back, further from the smoking dumpster.

Mac had curled into himself on the floor, his hands gnarled before him in pain. Once they'd moved a safe distance from the mostly contained bomb, Jack took a closer look at them and nearly vomited – not from the blood or the burns themselves, but from the knowledge that these were Mac's hands that had been caught in the explosion, burned, blistered, and bloody almost beyond recognition. Jack knew he should be grateful that all of Mac's fingers were intact, but it was hard to feel thankful for anything when Mac's hands could serve as a suitable stand-in for ground beef.

Mac's head was low, chin flush against his chest, his shoulders trembling in pain. Jack remembered when Mac had sustained first and second degree burns pulling his dumb ass out of a crematorium. Jack too had been burned on the bottoms of his feet, and the healing process for both Mac and himself had been one of the most painful experiences either of them could recall in recent memory. There had been debriding, cleaning, bandages, antibiotics, and, in Mac's case, a few sessions of physical therapy.

This was so much worse.

"Mac, buddy," Jack entreated, trying to keep his voice steady for his partner's sake. His accent was slathered liberally on every syllable, his voice gentle and quiet, like he was approaching a startled horse. "I need you to look at me. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Mac didn't respond, just heaved in a great gulp of air, and the breath rattled in his lungs like the last throes of a dying man. The sound clenched its icy fist around Jack's heart. He reached out, placing his index and middle fingers carefully beneath Mac's chin and lifting his kid's head to look him in the eyes. What he saw there nearly killed him.

Jack had been Mac's overwatch for a long time, and he'd seen the kid in a lot of less than ideal situations – roughed up, sick, shot, you name it. But never had Jack seen the level of fear and pain blazing in Mac's eyes as he did now. Tear streaks ran down his face, which was sooty and a bit red, especially around his forehead, but the burns on his face were superficial. Definitely first-degree. He'd managed to shield his face and eyes from the blast.

But his hands… Mac had to have just let go of the bomb to drop it in the dumpster for his hands to look like that but still be basically intact. Jack moved his hand from Mac's chin and cupped his partner's face in his hand, gently brushing a tear away, trying to get Mac's attention on him, to calm him down. "Mac, talk to me." He had no idea how he was keeping himself from crying right alongside his friend. "I need to know you're with me."

Mac hiccuped, took a deep breath through his nose and made a visible effort to calm himself down. When he spoke, every bit of the agony Jack saw in his face translated to his voice. "I–I'm okay."

Jack chuckled, but there was no humor to it. "I don't believe that for a second. But you will be, ya hear me?"

Mac nodded shakily, a low, keening whine building at the base of his throat like a wounded hound dog. He choked out, "It h-hurts."

"I know, bud. Can I see your hands?"

Mac shook his head, pulling his hands closer to his body. "Not yet. We n-need to find a way out of here f-f-first." Mac's teeth had started chattering, which sent a whole new wave of fear tearing through Jack's body. If Mac was going into shock, they were really out of time. And as much as Jack wanted to get a better idea of the damage, figure out what they were working with, he knew Mac was right. In all the chaos and worry, he'd almost forgotten that they were still locked in the warehouse with a smoking dumpster slowly turning the air against them. From where they sat on the floor, the air wasn't bad yet, but they needed to kick it into third gear – it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Okay," Jack agreed. "How do we get out? As I recall, they've padlocked all the doors from the outside, and this whole place is made of steel. Can you figure out how to make something to bust those doors down?"

Mac's eyes, glazed with pain, darted around the warehouse, which had until very recently been one of the stashes of the cartel that had captured them. "Uhhh…" His voice broke, and Jack saw Mac's hands twitch in a painful spasm out of the corner of his eye. Fresh tears welled up, and Mac blew out a shaky breath. "Okay. Yeah. We should b-be able to make a blowtorch to c-cut us out of here."

Jack shot Mac a dubious look. "You're not makin' anything hoss, and I sure as hell don't know how to make a blowtorch. Think you got it in you to walk me through it?"

Mac didn't look so sure, and Jack's stomach flipped as he saw how much the trembling had increased. Still, MacGyver was never one to admit defeat, and he nodded. His voice was thick with pain, dry and raspy, but he managed to walk Jack through a collection of basic supplies, all of which were readily available in their current space – an empty syringe, a thumbtack, pliers, lighter fluid, and Jack's own lighter, which the bad guys had left on him. Seems the only things they'd actually taken were their prisoner's phones.

By the time Mac had coached Jack through the process of actually building the DIY blowtorch, an incredibly precise and delicate venture that Jack barely managed with his sausage-like fingers, smoke was beginning to gather in earnest, and Mac was shaking so badly that he sounded like he was working a jackhammer when he talked. But Jack had finished it, and to his shock and utter relief, it worked – he'd not doubted Mac, of course, but his own ability to bring Mac's idea to fruition – and Mac had offered a pained, crooked smile at him, and said, "S-s-see, we m-make a p-p-pretty good t-team." Then, whether from pain or shock or hyperventilation, he passed out, and Jack only spared enough time to check his vitals before he used his lighter-turned-blowtorch to cut his way through the steel wall of the warehouse.

It was a slow process, and Jack burned himself no less four times, but at last he'd carved their escape route. The men who'd left them here to burn had gone. Jack hoisted Mac onto his shoulder, taking extra care not to jostle his mangled hands, and set out in search of a phone – he knew there was a gas station a few miles away.

Mac just had to hold on until then.

***

24 Hours Later

Jack was there when Mac woke up from his first surgery.

Jack was always there when Mac woke up in medical.

Mac peered at him through groggy, drug-hazy eyes and gave his partner a weak smile. "Hey, Jack."

Jack fought the urge to pull the kid into the tightest bear hug he'd ever experienced. Only a glance down at Mac's heavily bandaged hands lying delicately on his chest kept him where he was, in the cushioned hospital chair that played at being comfortable but really wasn't after ten minutes. Jack had been sitting in it for nearly sixteen hours, give or take, not counting bathroom breaks and coffee runs. Others had stopped by at various times, too – Matty, Bozer, and Riley chief among them – but right now it was just Jack and Mac. The way it had always been.

The way it would always be.

"Hey, kiddo. How're ya feelin'?"

Mac thought about this for a long moment, his brow furrowed in concentration like he was trying to figure out some complicated equation. Finally, he answered, "Weird."

Jack threw his head back and laughed, though what Mac had said in no way warranted the kind of reaction he was getting. It was like all of the stress and fear and uncertainty and trauma of the last day were riding the shockwave of that almost manic laugh.

Mac's eyebrows creased further in concern. "What's so funny?"

Jack scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, not sure if his eyes were watering from laughing, or if he had started crying somewhere along the way. "Nothing, hoss. What feels weird?"

"Floaty?" Mac answered uncertainty. From where Jack was sitting, Mac looked all of seven years old, tucked into the hospital bed in the Phoenix recovery ward, hair messy, eyes tired and confused.

Jack patted Mac on the shoulder, and Mac stared at the hand like it was the most surprising thing he'd ever encountered. Damn, they had him on the good stuff. He told Mac as much.

Mac's eyes were already drifting shut, the pull of the drugs too strong. "You go to sleep," Jack said softly, unable to keep himself from brushing a stray lock of hair from Mac's reddened forehead. "We can talk more when you wake up."

Mac, for once, did as he was told.

***

Jack spent the night at Mac's side, of course, despite Matty's urging that he go home and get some sleep. He wouldn't have been able to sleep, anyway, even if he had been in his own bed. He couldn't stop thinking, stop remembering. When he looked at Mac now, he saw pristine white bandages and the kind of tentative peace that could only come from whatever drugs they had him on – probably morphine and a cocktail of antibiotics, if he had his guess.

The problem was, Jack knew what lay beneath the bandages. He had seen, once he had finally found a phone and called for help, the extent of damage that had been done to Mac's hands up close. And it terrified him.

Even now every time he closed his eyes, even to blink, he could see his kid's hands, covered in burns, some so deep that Jack swore he could see tendons. They were bloody and blistered and the angriest shade of red Jack had ever seen.

He also saw, whenever his body betrayed him and he started to doze off, the way that MacGyver had writhed and twitched and moaned even while unconscious as Jack tried to examine them. His mind dragged him back to the Phoenix chopper, where a medical team immediately gave Mac painkillers and started debriding the burns. Mac had woken up then, thrashing and screaming the most terrible, guttural, animal screams, and Jack had been forced to hold him down while the medics worked, and he'd cried alongside Mac, and after they'd landed and Mac had been rushed in, Jack had found the nearest trash can and puked his guts out.

Even now, one surgery down, it was far from over. The doctor's prognosis had been hopeful, but cautious. Mac should be able to gain control of his hands again, should be able to build things and destroy Jack's phones and return fist bumps and high fives, and open doors and climb and pick things up and shoot hoops and anything else he wanted to do… but it would take time.

Six surgeries, minimum, to repair damage to tendons, do skin grafts. Mac's hands would always bear some scars, even though Phoenix had flown in the best surgeons in the country to rebuild the hands that usually did the rebuilding. And the few sessions of physical therapy he'd been through the last time he'd burned his hands were child's play to the PT he had in store in the coming months.

Jack sure as hell hoped the world would hold it together until MacGyver healed. He knew that it might as well have ended if Mac hadn't made it out of that explosion alive. Jack's world would have, at any rate.

But, Jack reminded himself as he watched the steady rise and fall of Mac's chest, despite all of the pain and physical therapy and surgeries in his future, Mac was by far the strongest person he knew. He had no doubt that the cautionary "should" the doctor placed on Mac's recovery was more of a "will definitely," because Mac didn't let anything slow him down for long.

So Jack had to be strong, too.

"I'll do it for you, Mac," he said aloud. He carded his fingers gently through mussed blonde hair.

It was a promise he intended to keep.

[jawabear]

A Whole New Man (Javier Pena x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: I've been writing this for a week and I've finally finished it. Its a little long but I hope you enjoy it. I don't know the exact timing of his life so I may be inaccurate so I apologise for that. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe :)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut

Warnings: fem!reader, Soft!Javi, poor boy is desperate for love, mentions of death, crying, smut, soft smut, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: Back home, Javi doesn’t feel right, he feels out of place, he’s missing something...or someone

It had been two days. Two days since he had been home. He felt like an outsider. Laredo hadn’t changed all that much, but he had. He didn’t feel he belonged in his home town anymore. He wasn’t used to the quiet life there. But it was one he dreamed of when he was a kid. To settle down with a beautiful woman, raise a child or two, have a large garden and a porch so he could sit and watch his kids run around like he had in his own family home.

But Colombia had changed that. It had changed him. He wasn’t that same man who he used to respect. His dream was destroyed, he wasn’t the family man he wanted to be. He was something completely different and he hated it.

And of course it didn’t help all the people who were constantly congratulating him for his “achievements” in taking down Escobar and the Cali Cartel. He wanted to distance himself from it. He knew what they didn’t. The true number of how many good officers lost their jobs, lost their lives to catch those scumbags. How much innocent blood had stained the streets of Colombia because of them. And his own hands certainly weren’t clean. But they were covered in the blood of the enemy, but in the heat of the moment, it’s hard to determine who was the enemy and who wasn’t. And there was always that thought in the back of his mind that he had blood of innocents on his hands.

Javi was living with his dad for now. He kind of just wanted the comfort of being with someone who he trusts. He missed his dad a lot while down south, everything that came out if his mouth was pure truth and wisdom to Javi, but the Peña son was never really one to take on his advice, even if he really should have. Javier felt a little vulnerable in Laredo, so having his father there as reassurance was what he needed.

Currently, Javier found himself sat out on his fathers porch staring out into the garden, beyond which was a large forest which he used to play in almost everyday when he was a kid. There was a long a thin stream somewhere in the middle of the woods. Javi has quite the imagination as a kid. Mainly because of all the stories of knights and superhero’s he would get read as a bedtime story by his mother. He used to imagine himself as a brave knight venturing into the thick forest to fight a dragon or some sort of other mythical beast. Or maybe even to recuse a beautiful princess.

Oh, how beautiful she was. 

They were young on their first meeting, maybe about 10 or 11. And it was the start of a long friendship that he was grateful to have had.

Javi was playing in the forest as usual, using a long stick he had found as a sword to fight of the monstrous, fire breathing dragon that he envisioned in front of him. She had appeared on the other side of the stream, looking incredibly shy.

“What are you playing?” She had asked him in a gentle voice.

He paused for a moment, you wouldn’t think it, but Javier Peña was a shy kid. He didn’t really do well around new people, especially girls. “I um..” he had stuttered as she stood up straight “I was...fighting a dragon” he admitted.

“Can I play too?” She asked him, her face bright red, she hadn’t been able to meet his gaze out of her shyness.

“Sure” he agreed “come over” he said, waving his hand to her.

“O-oh” She stuttered, looking into the stream. It was long and wide back then, it had thinned over the years, Javi was sure that it probably wouldn’t even be there any more. And to a ten year old kid, a long stretch of water was a lot more then that.

To them it was like some sort of rapids, one wrong move and you would be lost forever, it would drag you down to the ocean and pull you under, or you would be eaten by some sort of river demon, a sea serpent.

“Hang on a minuet” Javi had told her. He dropped his stick sword and raced off back out of the woods, coming back shortly with a long and wide flat piece of hardwood. He put it across the stream, making sure it was stable by stepping onto it before reaching out his hand to her “it’s safe to cross now” he had said with a smile.

She looked hesitantly towards him, to the wood and the rushing water under it. She gulped and slowly reach out to take his hand before cautiously making her way across his makeshift bridge. “Thank you” She said to him when her feet had landed back on solid ground.

“You’re welcome” he nodded “I’m Javier by the way. Javier Peña”

“(Y/N)” She greeted him “(Y/N) (L/N)”

“Do you still want to play?”

“Yes please” she nodded with a bright smile.

Javier smiled at the memory. He smiled at remembering her. From that first day, they had become best friends. She had only recently moved there so she didn’t know anyone besides from him. Her mother was a florist and had opened up a small flower shop in the town square, the best flower shop there was. They had sleep overs when they became more friendly with each other, and once their parents had met too. He would often teach her Spanish, she didn’t speak a word of it apart from the basics like hello, please and thank you. It was never 100% but she tried her best.

They went to the same school, the same high school. They were there for each other for everything. Through their awkward teen years, which moving into their early 20s they made fun of each other about.

They were each other’s first kiss. People say that your first kiss is the one you most remember. And for Javi, that was the damn truth. He remembered it vividly. He could put himself back in that point in time and relive it so clearly.

They were about 15 at the time. Meeting back in the woods, his bridge still there but the stream and thinned enough for either party to step over it. They were sat on the ground just talking. It was a beautiful night, the sky was clear and the moon was full. But the brightest, most beautiful stars were in her eyes that night. He doesn’t remember what she was talking about but it must’ve been something good or funny because she spoke with a huge smile on her face. He was just overwhelmed by how beautiful she looked that night that he had to kiss her. So he did.

It wasn’t long, or deep. It was a quick peck on the lips. A little awkward if he was being honest with himself, but it was his first kiss. She sort of just looked at him for a moment, in a bit of shock at what he had just done. He went to apologise but she gave him a quick peck on the lips to stop him. And then the next kiss was a little better, longer and a little less awkward. And he loved it.

She was beside him when his mother died, she didn’t leave him or his father for two weeks, she stayed at their house, sleeping in with Javi like they had when they were much younger. They would stay up all night and just talk to each other, she was trying to do everything she could to distract his mind from thinking about his mother. He had a close connection to his mum, she couldn’t imagine what pain he was going through at loosing her, but she supported him and his father as best she could.

That’s when he started to change to the Javi he was now. Not completely, Colombia was the real game changer. But his mother’s passing left a whole is his life that could only be filled by a woman. From that point he was determined to find a woman who would take care of him. But he didn’t choose her. They had too good a friendship. His longest friend, he was scared that a relationship would change that and that he would loose her.

So instead he began to surround himself with what beautiful girls there were in Laredo, one of which was Lorraine. They didn’t date immediately. He was otherwise occupied with another girl called Maria if he remembered correctly. He was then in and out of relationships with girls for about four years. Then when he hit 25 he decided that Lorraine would be the woman he would be with for a while. He didn’t plan on staying with her long, but he had stayed with her for longer than he expected.

All the while, (Y/N) was in the background of his life, she didn’t have as much luck in relationships as he did. Which he was surprised by because for one, she was beautiful, any guy would be lucky to have her and two, most of the girls were pining after Javier, so it was as if single guys were running low. But really, it was because she wanted to be with him. Not that she ever admitted to that, and Javier was blind to it.

And of course she was there to help with the engagement and the wedding, even if it never happened. And she was also there standing next to the woman who she had resented for taking her dream man from her, on her wedding day, dressed in that white dress, only for Javier to never show. And she had to then comfort Lorraine when she cried at being stood up on her wedding day when inside (Y/N) was jumping with joy that Javier hadn’t gone through with it.

Even when he and Lorraine had officially split, he didn’t go for (Y/N). He had pretty much worked through every other girl in his home town by the time he was 29. And that hole was still left in his heart. But he and (Y/N) still remained friends regardless of their complicated feelings for each other that they would never share.

And then he went off to join the DEA in Colombia. He left her behind to go and save the world. She tried to beg him not to go but she knew she couldn’t stop him. She knew him too well, she knew that once he had really decided he was going to do something, he was going to do it. So she had to let him go. And even standing at the airport together, saying what felt like a last ever goodbye, they still couldn’t tell each other how they felt.

Which brought him back to now. Sat back in his home town, staring out into those woods while sipping on a warming beer. He had yet to visit (Y/N). He knew exactly where to find her. In her mother’s flower shop. She had gotten a job there after high school, it’s where she spent most of her time, she loved flowers.

He would’ve gone to see her, but he was scared at what he might find, what he might do. Despite all the women he had been with in Colombia, she was still at the back of his mind. And he was still in love with her. But he had been gone for so long, she had probably found someone else. Maybe even married, had a kid, got to live out his dream. Or, if she hadn’t, he would finally confess his feelings for her only for her to reject him, to ask how he could expect her to love him back when he left her like he did to go and be a hero. And she would be right to think that.

“You’ve been out here for a while son,” his fathers voice drew him from his spiralling thoughts. “Are you okay?” He sat in the chair opposite Javier.

Javi nodded and slipped his beer “yeah Pops, I’m good” he said quietly. Javi didn’t know if he was lying or not. He didn’t really know how he felt. He just felt a little lost. He reached into his pocket looking for a cigarette but let out a sharp huff of air when he remembered he was once again trying to quit. He was trying to leave behind as much of his past as possible, whilst he wasn’t prepared to quit drinking, smoking he was ready to stop.

He pulled out his half empty pack of nicorette gum, slipping out a piece and putting it into his mouth, chewing it immediately. He made a silent reminded to himself to get some more should he ever leave his fathers house.

It had been two days and he hadn’t left the comfort of his childhood home since he got back. He didn’t have his badge or his gun any more, and after years of carrying them around with him every waking second, to not have it, he just couldn’t feel safe. But he knew that Laredo was a safe place, a small and gentle town, so he would feel safe but knowing the truth of the world, he couldn’t be so sure any more.

“You’ve been cooped up in here since you got back. Perhaps you should take a walk into the square. Refresh your memory of the place, might put you a little more at ease” Chucho told his son “and I know someone there that would love to see you again”

Javi felt his body stiffen and he took in a sharp breath “(Y/N)?” He asked his dad with a slight laugh as he looked over to his father who didn’t share the same humour as his son, he nodded “No creo que ella quiera verme papá” (I don’t think she will want to see me Papa)

“¿Qué te hace decir eso?” (What makes you say that?) Chucho asked him.

Javi sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face before taking a long swig of his lukewarm beer. “Would you want to see me after I just up and left?” He asked.

“You’re my son”

“I mean if I wasn’t” his father didn’t respond to this, he just let out a low noise and looked off into the woods that Javi was daydreaming about moments earlier.

“I don’t know why you two never got together. You had been with so many girls before but you ignored the best one” Chucho muttered.

“I didn’t ignore her Papa” Javi argued “she was just-“ he cut himself off realising his dad was right. In a way, he was ignoring her. He was ignoring his feelings for her for the longest time, and even when he had the chance to confess he still held onto them. And she was the best one, by a long way. “Éramos amigos, papá. Mejores amigos (We were friends, dad. Best friends). I couldn’t just...I couldn’t lose her. You know what I was like in those relationships. None of them lasted, even when I thought it would, I fucked it up. And if I was with her...I would lose her like I lost everyone else”

“Maybe none of them lasted because you didn’t mean it. None of them were the right one for you Mi Hijo. And you know that”

“And you think (Y/N) is the right one for me?” Javi asked with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s not for me to decide” Chucho shrugged taking a sip of his own beer.

-

Javi shivered as a bitter wind blew against him, he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he walked into the town square. It was getting late, so most shops were closing up for the night. He just hoped that he wouldn’t be too late to see her.

As he would walk, people passing by would want to stop him and talk to him. They would want to congratulate him for what he had done in Colombia. Javi would be gracious and thank them but he knew that in reality he hadn’t really done much to change anything. Part of him wished he had taken that job down in Mexico, it would’ve given him something to do but he didn’t know how many more of the horrors of the drug war he could take.

He stopped a little bit away from the flower shop where she was. The lights were still on inside so she must’ve been there still. He looked at the sign on the door, opening and closing times. He checked his watch and saw it was just about closing time, but he decided to walk in anyway. It was empty of people but full of flowers, beautiful colours and different varieties. And the smell was just amazing.

The bell above the door gave a gentle ting as he entered. “Oh, sorry, we were just about to close” his heart stopped at hearing her sweet voice again after so many years. His eyes looked for her and saw she was standing behind the counter, her back to him as she fiddled with some kind of flower basket there.

“Actually, I’m not looking for flowers...” he told her. He noticed her body stiffen slightly before she slowly turned.

And when their eyes met, well, he felt like he could’ve cried. Seeing those beautiful eyes again was just overwhelming to him. “J-Javi?” She stuttered quietly.

“Yeah..” he said softly “Hey (Y/N)”

She let out what sounded like another whisper of his name before stepping quickly towards him and throwing her arms around him. Javi didn’t hesitate in wrapping his arms around her, burying his head into her hair, refreshing the memory of her sweet scent. He never wanted to part from her again. Being in her warmth really made him feel like he was home. Perhaps that’s all he was missing, he was just missing the warmth of his best friend, his favourite thing about his home.

For a while they didn’t say anything. They just stayed wrapped up in each other’s warmth, trying to make up for the cold 2,500 mile space left between them whilst he had been in Colombia.

She regretfully pulled away, beaming a bright smile to him as a few tears slipped down her rosy cheeks. He lifted his hands to wipe them away with his thumbs and gave her a soft smile back, “I-I can’t believe your back” she told him “well I mean, the whole town is talking about it but I didn’t think you would come back here. To me I mean”

“I couldn’t not come back to you” he told her “you are my best friend after all” he put emphasis on the word ‘are’, and it was hopeful. He was hoping she still would be his best friend, if not a little something more than that.

She just continued to smile at him “you-you look amazing” she laughed softly as she stepped back from him.

“So do you” he said “but you always did. So um...how have you been?”

“Uh...good” she nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been good. Not much to report really. Nothing has really changed since you’ve been gone. Except I’ve gotten a little older I guess”

“But no less beautiful” he whispered more to himself, but she heard him and he saw her face turn a little bit red as she gave him a shy smile.

“But what about you? You must’ve had an experience down there. From what everyone is saying, you’re a true hero”

“I wouldn’t really say that” he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m definitely not a hero...”

“H-Hey, if you’re free, maybe we could go to the diner and get something to eat? And we can catch up there?”

“Yeah, sure” He smiled with a nod.

“Great” she said “uh, let me lock up and we’ll go” she went about gathering her stuff, her coat and bag, and then grabbed the keys to the shop. They both stepped outside and she locked the door, pulling on the handle a few time to make sure it was secure. Once she was happy she turned to Javi with a smile “shall we go”

“Of course”

-

He had told her as many stories as he could about his time in Colombia. Escobar, Cali, Los Pepes, everything. And she told him everything she could. Although, she wasn’t lying when she said it wasn’t much. The main thing was that her mother had met someone and moved out to Austin with him, (Y/N) stayed because she liked the quiet life in Laredo, she wasn’t one for the city and the capital of Texas was not where she wanted to be.

Her sweet laughter echoed through the otherwise empty diner. The two had spent many nights here in the same position in that small retro diner, he would say something she would laugh, she would say something he would laugh. It was a nice routine to have. And they always ordered the same thing, two cheeseburgers with fries and a large chocolate milkshake. It was a kids dream. And usually they would have to share the milkshake because after the expense of the burgers, they only had enough to buy one. But they didn’t mind, it was nice to share it. They were regulars to this little diner. Same time. Tuesdays, they would get in at 7pm, Thursdays would be at 7:30pm, Fridays would be a risky 9pm and Saturdays would be 9:30pm. It got to the point that their food would be waiting for them in the table when they got there.

They had decided to once again share the milkshake. It was Javi’s idea. But for some reason, this one felt different, it felt like some Lady and the Tramp bullshit. It didn’t help the fact that there was some “romantic” music playing through the jukebox over in the corner of the diner.

“So,” he began as he swallowed down his last few fries “has your love life improved much? Mine sure as shit hasn’t” he admitted to her.

“I thought it did. I dated Santiago for about three years-“

Javi coughed as he choked at her words, she dated that idiot? He reached for his coffee and took small sips to regain his composure. “You dated Santiago?” He asked her.

“Yeah” she nodded “but it didn’t go that well to be honest. He is a complete idiot. At first it was okay. He was really nice, but as time went on, I discovered that he really wasn’t all he made himself out to be. Very arrogant and self-centred. So I ended it. He moved away though about a year afterwards, I think he went down to Brazil with this other girl he met. And after that, I had been in and out of a few relationships but, Laredo is a small town, not many people left” she shrugged.

“I’m glad you ended it” he said “I mean, because you know, I don’t want you to not be happy in a relationship” he added quickly “and Santiago, from what I can remember, was a real piece of shit”

“Yeah, he was” she agreed with a light laugh “so you still haven’t found the right woman?”

He had. He was sat right in front of her, she was right there, his for the taking but he was still a coward and couldn’t tell her. But he could tell her about his encounters with woman, informants down in Colombia. He could find out if she would think different of him when she found out how much he slept around just to get through the night.

“No” he lied with the sake of his head “but...whilst I was down there...well, I had pretty much slept with every prostitute down there” he admitted quietly “the majority of my informants were women, beautiful woman. Looking back at it now, I feel like shit for the way I treated them, using them to get information, putting their lives at risk just to get the smallest lead. But no, I never found the right woman. I don’t really think I was looking for one to be honest. Too focused on work...”

He watched her with worried eyes as she finished the last of the milkshake “that’s too bad” she said to him “I wouldn’t thought you would’ve found someone by now” she told him “I mean, it’s not like you’re not attractive, and you’re so sweet and kind, girls should be lining up to be with you Javi”

He felt relief that she hadn’t commented on his sex life, but also had that thought that she would mention it somewhen else. But to be honest, he didn’t think she was surprised to hear about his encountered down in Colombia. He had been with enough women in Laredo for her to realise what kind of guys he was. But for now he was realising in the silence, she hasn’t questioned him or seemed repulsed but it.

He let out a soft laugh and pulled out his wallet “you finished?” He asked her.

“You’re not paying” she protested as he pulled out her purse.

“Absolutely I am” he said “my treat” he smiled. He stood from the booth before she could protests any more and walk over to the counter to pay for the meal.

“It’s about time you two got together” the waitress, Rosanna, smiled and she went about preparing his change and receipt. She had worked in the diner since the two were in high school, coming here late on school nights to have a little fun, maybe dance a little together.

“O-oh no, we’re-“ he cleared his throat and gave a nervous laugh “we’re not together” he said.

“That’s a real shame” she sighed with raised eyebrows “you two make a cute couple. I’ve thought that from the very moment you first step foot through those doors. It’s nice to see you again Javi, nice to have you back in Laredo” she smiled as she handed over his change and receipt.

“Nice to see you again too, Rosanna” he smiled to her, giving her a tanking nod before returning back to the booth to get (Y/N) “ready to go, my lady?” He asked her.

She nodded and stood, putting on her coat and grabbing her bag, putting it over she shoulder. They waved goodbye to Rosanna as they left. It was dark now, a similar night to when they both shared their first kiss with each other. Clear skies and a full moon.

“You really didn’t have to pay for the food Javi” she said quietly “we could’ve at least split it”

“I kind of did have to pay though. As an apology for the way I left. Although, I know it’s not enough. But hopefully it’s a start”

“You don’t need to apologise Javi. You’ve done nothing wrong. You left because you wanted to help, you wanted to do a job. Maybe I should apologise for the way I acted, trying to stop you and all, I just...I didn’t want to loose my best friend”

“I can see that this could go in forever, so how about we both accept that we are both incredibly sorry” Javi offered.

“Agreed” she laughed.

“Walk you home?” He offered again.

“Sure” she smiled to him. He held out his arm to her and she linked hers with his, pressing herself against him as they walked back to her small little cottage the other side of the woods by Javi’s childhood home.

-

“You know,” she began softly “tonight is a similar night to when we both had our first kiss” she giggled “Do you remember that?”

“Of course I do. I think about it all the time”

“You do?” She asked in slight shock.

“W-Well...I mean...y-yeah” he stuttered, his face feeling hot now.

“So do I” she admitted “I think about...a lot of things we did. A lot of things we...we could’ve done”

“Like what?” She was silent for a moment as she thought over what she wanted to say “I know a lot of things I would’ve liked to have done...” he continued. He stopped in his tracks, she stopped too and stood in front on him. Their eyes meeting and their hearts pounding.

“L-Like what?” She stuttered. He lifted his hands to rest on her cheeks, stroking her skin with his thumb.

“Well, for one, I want to kiss you again...”

“Please..” she begged quietly.

He didn’t question it. She wanted him to kiss her and he most definitely wanted to kiss her. Javi leaned in and pressed his lips to her like he did all those years ago, although this time it was a lot less awkward.

She pulled away and smiled at him “that was...a lot less awkward” she laughed.

“Yeah” he chuckled “I’m um...I’m sorry that I...” He drew in a sharp breath, inwardly grumbling to himself to just man up and tell her “I really fucking like you (Y/N). I love you. And I’m so sorry for leaving you, for not ever telling you, for being with so many other girls when you were right there...just...I’m fucking sorry”

“Don’t be” she shook her head, lifting her own hands to rest on his cheeks “we were both in and out of relationships. I think we’re both at fault, but I fucking love you too. I’ve always loved you Javi...”

He pulled her back in for another kiss, his arms falling to wrap around her waist, pulling her body flush against him. Her arms slipped around his neck, her hands tangling into his soft hair.

-

It was a mess as they made their way to her bedroom, they were both thankful that her home was just one floor so they didn’t have to fumble their way up the stairs to her room. A trail of discarded clothes from the front door to her room, doing the best they could never to break lips. Once they entered the threshold of her room he pushed her onto the bed and made quick work of taking off his shirt before dropping it to the floor and crawling on top of her. Her hands grabbed his cheeks and pulled him down for another deep kiss.

“I’ve waited...” he mumbled between kisses “so fucking long...to have you like this”

“Me too” she told him, her hands slid from his cheeks and into his hair, tugging lightly on the strands. His hands moved down her body and moved under her shirt, trailing up her skin bringing her shirt with him. She momentarily removed her hands from his hair so that he could pull off her shirt.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position when returning her lips to him. His hands flattened on her back. Javi trailed his lips down her jaw and too her neck, sucking and biting on her soft skin electing soft moans from her. “Javi..” she whispered. He let out a heavy breath, her voice electrifying his body in the best way, making him feel more alive then anyone else ever had.

Her fingers slid back into his soft hair. His fingers worked on undoing the clasp of her bra, she slipped it off her arms and dropped it to the floor. He then pushed her back onto the bed and admired her chest for a moment “you’re so fucking beautiful” he mumbled to her before leaning down to take on of her pink buds into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it.

“Javi..” she whimpered breathlessly, stroking through his hair. Javi’s hands stroked down her sides, he trailed his mouth down her stomach, leaving wet open mouthed kisses to her stomach, to the waist band of her jeans. She reached over to her bedside table to switch on the dim lamp there, letting the room be filled with the soft orange glow. He fumbled with the button and the zip before finally being able to pull them off her legs and throw them to the floor.

His fingers were light across the flesh of her thighs. She let out a pleased hum at the feeling of his rough fingers contrasting her soft skin. He gently pulled one of her legs up into the air. He stared at her leg with admiration in his eyes, his hands stroking it as if it were made of the most delicate China. He pressed a kiss to her ankle, to her calves and to her shin. Then to the side of her knee, lowering his body. Then to her inner thigh, he was now settled between her legs.

He rubbed his nose over the waistband of her panties before taking it between his teeth and pulling them down her legs and then discarding them too to the floor, leaving her completely naked under him. “Shit baby” he whispered. He couldn’t help but touch her more. His hands roamed over his body, as did his eyes. He was in awe of how stunning she looked. Feeling completely regretful and almost stupid that he hadn’t taken her sooner. He could’ve had her precious body all to himself by now if he wasn’t such a coward to hide his feelings for her.

She bit her bottom lip as she sat up, matching his kneeling position. Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulder. She looked up at him through her lashes “you’re wearing to much” she whispered to him. This was a new, confident side of (Y/N) that he hadn’t seen before, but he loved it.

She moved around him and pushed him down to the bed, now hovering above him. Her hands felt every inch of his bare chest. Her fingers lingering on the scars that were scattered around his skin. She didn’t think to question how he got them, he didn’t need to explain it to her in that moment. But she knew that none of them could’ve been good. So she made a show of making love to each one in an attempt to erase the memories from his mind.

Her lips were gentle over each scar, after the kiss she would trace a finger over it before moving to the next one. Javi always knew she was gentle, she was always so kind, and having her in such an intimate position made him feel incredibly special. He felt safe for once. She was taking care of him just like he always wanted a woman to do.

“(Y/N)...” he mumbled to her. She lifted her head and brought it over his, looking down at him with soft eyes.

“Yeah?” She whispered, her finger trailing down his cheek.

“Kiss me...” he pleaded. And she did. Their lips joined and his hands moved to her back, his palms flattening against her skin. Their lips moved perfectly against each other. Javi couldn’t explain what he was feeling. His heart was just overwhelmed. He felt it must’ve been a dream. He had dreamt for many years about what it would be like to actually be with her. He had imagine how soft her lips were, how they tasted on his own. He had imagined how smooth her skin would be under his rough hands, how it would feel against his own. He had imagined what it would be like to hear her tell him she loved him. And it was fucking music.

She pulled off his lips, giving him a gently smile before sliding back down his body. She made quick work of getting him out of his jeans, it was effortless for her, or maybe it was simply because he was completely infatuated by her in that moment that any movement she made just seemed perfect and fluid. Her hands dragged along his thighs and he felt weakened. No one had even touched him like that before. As in, no one had taken the time to feel him. Maybe that was his own fault, only ever using them for a quick fuck, Hell, he didn’t even take the time to feel any of the women he had had sex with in his past. Partly because he was so desperate to feel her.

She took her time in admiring his body that he hated so much. He couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror because he knew he truth about himself, he knew who he really was. But every dark thought he ever had about himself seemed to melt away every second her hands lingered on his body. She was changing him, she didn’t realise it but she was. He was becoming a better person every second they were with each other.

Her hands were outlining the bulge in his black boxers. Almost massaging the skin around it, she was yet to touch him where he really wanted her too but he didn’t much care. He was relishing in the feeling of her. He just felt so happy.

A finger then trailed down the length of his member. He let out a shape huff of breath. His hips jerked up into her touch when she flattened her palm over him “(Y/N)” he muttered. Her palm began to rub against him. Up and down, up and down. His mouth fell open and his head rolled back onto the pillow. “Fuck” he breathed.

Her hand was slow but it felt so good. He was melting under her touch, he felt like he was floating, he was on cloud nine. He loved her more and more each second that passed. He was, however, half tempted to stop her, to her give some pleasure, to make her feel as good as he felt. He knew it was selfish to let her carry on, but he simply felt to weak to move. Too absorbed in his own pleasure to stop her.

He lifted his head when he felt her hand move to the waistband if his boxers, pulling them down his legs and dropping them to the floor. His length slapped against his stomach and he saw her eyes sparkle. Her fingers wrapped gently around his length and his head fell back against the pillow, letting out a low groan. Her hand then continued its soft strokes. Up and down, up and down.

“(Y/N)...” he muttered again, this time reaching his hand down to tell her to stop her. “Let me touch you..” he pleaded. She smiled to him and nodded. He pulled her back up his body before he rolled them over and pressed his lips to hers, then it was his turn to slid down her body.

He gently grabbed her thighs and pushed her legs apart, his eyes were now focused on her glistening wetness. He bit his bottom lips and let out a strangled groan at the sight. He nuzzled his nose against he clit briefly before slipping his tongue out and licking a long stripe up between her folds. “Javi” she gasped bringing her hand to his hair.

He was going to make her come from his mouth. He was already addicted to her taste after a single lick.

His mouth was now fully attached to her witness. His tongue abusing her clit making her body writhe under him, her fingers tugging on his hair, sweet moans and whimpers falling from her lips with every flick he gave her. “God, Javier” she whispered “s-so good” she managed to say, her hips began rolling against his hot mouth. He didn’t say anything, instead just letting out a low hum. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, pulling her closer too him. He ate her out as if he were a starved man.

And of course, he was. He felt deprived of being with someone properly. He was starved of feeling what it was like to actually make love to someone. He had been starved of a gentle touch which she had given him. He had been starved of being without her for so long, he wanted to make up lost time by just ruining her in the best possible way.

“J-Javi” she whimpered, he carefully lifted her head to look at him. He was fucking enjoying himself. His eyes were closed and he had the most dreamy face, like he was experiencing some sort of heaven. The sight was so damn erotic that she felt she might come undone in that moment but she didn’t want it to end so soon. He wanted him to eat her out for longer, but she didn’t know how much longer she could last. “G-going to-“ she tried breathlessly “Oh-fuck-Javi” she swore before letting out a load moan. Again he said nothing, but her words encouraged him to go harder. He pressed his face as close to her as he could, his tongue swirling over her, sucking on her clit viciously, desperate to hear how she sounded when she came undone for him.

He noticed how she became short of breath, her moans coming out as high pitch squeaks. Her chest was heaving. She was so beautiful. He could feel her thighs trying to push together, if not for his strong hold in them, he was sure they would most likely be pressed tightly around his head, not that he would be opposed to that feeling.

“Come for me baby” he muttered deeply against her. Those words were what she needed to send her into oblivion. Her back arched off the bed as a call of his name escaped her lips. His mouth didn’t stop, but it did slow down, working her through her climax until her hips were stuttering.

Once she had reached that point, he slowly pulled his mouth of her wet heat. He took a second to admire his work, and to admire just how angelic she looked after her climax hit. Her face flushed, chest heaving, lips parted. It was a sight he could get used to.

He crawled back up her body, leaving kisses across her stomach, chest and breasts and he went. He kissed up her neck, along her jawline, on her chin and finally settled on her lips, capturing the last few sweet moans in his own mouth. A soft hum left her lips when she tasted herself on him. “I want you” he told her slowly.

“I want you too” she told him “I really want you” he could hear the desperation in his voice, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear the same in his. Because he was desperate for her, he had been since they were teenagers. And now he finally had her, he sure as hell hoped it was good.

He returned his lips to hers and trailed a hand down her body and between her legs, she squealed cutely when his fingers ran up through her folds gathering up the wetness there. He smeared it over his length and aligned the tip of his dick with her entrance. He gently eased into her, loving the noise she made as he did, somewhere between and moan and a whimper, or maybe it was the two of them combined.

He watched himself sink into her, adoring the sight. She was just perfect. Taking him like she was made for him. Her head rolled back and he buried his head in the crook of her neck, attaching his mouth to her skin as he began to thrust slowly in and out of her. “Oh Javi,” she began, a dazed expression on her face “you’re so good”

“You’re so fucking tight” he groaned through gritted teeth, “so tight...so wet...so good”

He rolled his hips against hers slowly, painfully slowly, trying to draw out a long moan of pleasure from her which he got. A long and breathless moan came from her lips. Her nails dragged up his broad back, definitely leave red lines on his skin, but he didn’t much care about that. The more marks she left on him the better.

His thrusts were slow at first, he was just trying to come to terms with how good she felt around him. And then he started to speed up a little, her nails then digging into his skin as she gasped out his name “o-oh Javi” she whimpered. His face was still buried in her neck, sucking and biting on her skin, marking her as much as she was marking him.

Her legs lifted and wrapped around his waist and she used what strength she could muster to roll them over so that she was now above him. “Fuck,” he groaned when he looked at her. Her hands rested on his chest as she circled her hips around him “you look so beautiful” he commented in a quiet voice. His hands slid up her arms and back down again a few times before sliding back down her sides to her hips to encourage her to ride him.

Which she did. “Javi” she whispered again as she bounced slowly on his length, her teeth dragged along her bottom lip, her head rolling back. His hands tightened their grip on her hip as she began to pick up her pace. His own hips rose to meet hers, he was once again becoming absorbed in his own pleasure. “Javi-You look so beautiful” She panted as her eyes met his. Both pairs were blown black with lust and desire for each other. Pent up sexual attraction and frustration finally being released.

He had never been called ‘beautiful’ before. But he loved the way it sounded coming from her. He loved the way it felt inside him. Making him feel so loved and adored by her, making him feel so special. He felt so incredibly weak by her, succumbing to her every word, her every touch, her every look. He felt completely at her mercy but he didn’t want to be anywhere else. This was where he was meant to be, with her in that moment.

(Y/N)’s hips rolled against his, grinding them against his. His breath hitched in his throat as his head was flung back. His hands were like a vice on her hips. His climax was nearing, he could feel it building in the pit of his stomach. “(Y-Y/N)...” he stuttered out breathlessly. She dragged her hips along him over and over again, each one coming faster then the last. She was killing him. His mind was empty. All he could think about was her, how good she was making him feel.

Her hands moved to grab the pillow either side of his head as she lowered her body down. His head was still thrown back, his glorious neck on full view to her. Her lips attached to his neck and he groaned lowly. She trailed her kissed up his jaw and back to his lips. Kissing him gently as his hips kept going fast. He slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her body flush against him.

With her body now against him, she found it difficult to move her hips to give the desired effect. He knew how to help with that. He managed to push himself to his knees, her legs still tightly around his waist. She was pretty much sat on his lap, their lips still joined. He began to thrust up into her, his hips slamming against hers as he tried to draw both of their climax’s near. Her hands slid to his cheeks, running her thumbs over his rough skin as she moaned helplessly into his mouth, but he was doing the exact same.

Their ends were upon them. He could feel her walls grabbing at him with ever thrust, and her moans and whimpers were getting more desperate. And she could feel his length begin to twitch inside her, he was grabbing at her back, trying to hold on to something when he came, either that or he was just trying to keep her close. She reached behind her to grab one of his wrists and guided it to her hair. He didn’t need to be told what to do. His fingers immediately tightened within her lock and she smirked against his lips. “J-Javi” she breathed “baby I’m so close”

“Me too Mi Amor” he mumbled. His other hand slipped down her back to grab a generous handful of her ass making her gasp, her head falling back giving him perfect access to her neck. He once again buried his face into her neck, muffling his moans and amplifying hers.

“Javi-“ She squeaked as she desperately grasped his hair. His name then fell of her lips like a chant as she released on him, her walls clenching hopelessly around him. He wasn’t too far behind, letting out a low rumble of her name as his hands on her body tightened their grip on what ever they were holding as his come shot into her.

He slowed his hips, riding them through their climax’s before finally stopping. Now her room was only filled with the sound of bated breaths. He removed his face from her neck to look at her. She tilted her head back down to look at him through heavy eye lids before pulling him in for another kiss.

As their lips worked against each other, he carefully lowered them back down to her bed, letting himself sink into the soft mattress below him. She pulled off his lips and smile gently to him before rolling off him. He quickly grabbed her hand before she could leave the bed “w-where are you going?” He asked quickly.

“To the bathroom” she told him “I won’t be long baby” she promised him with a quick kiss. She then disappeared out of the room, leaving him alone feeling...amazing.

He sat up and leaned over the bed to see the mess of their clothes on her floor. He reached for his jeans but stopped himself. It was part of his routine that he hadn’t been able to shake. Fuck, then smoke. But he was trying to quite smoking, and that wasn’t just a fuck. That was love. They made love. He realised that he had no desire to smoke, or to chew his gum, he was on autopilot, so used to his routine of smoking after sex that it just happened with out him controlling his brain. But now he was thinking about it, the only thing he desired was her.

He chuckled lightly and shook his head at himself. He skipped his jeans for the moment and reached for his boxers and pulled them back on. He grabbed every piece of clothing, wanting to clean the space before she got back. He didn’t quite know what to do with it all but he noticed there was a chair in the corner of her room, so he put the pile of clothes in that before slipping back into bed. He took the time to look around her room. It was definitely her, everything about it. And he loved it.

But his eyes stopped at a framed picture on her bedside table that he hadn’t noticed. He shuffled closer to it and grabbed it from the nightstand to get a better look. And it felt like his head fluttered. He knew exactly what it was. It was them on the night of their prom. They had gone together simply because neither of them had anyone else to ask. The picture was taken by his mother before they left.

God, she looked beautiful. Her hair done nice and neatly, a more natural look compared to what some girls had done. The same went for her dress. It was long, simple and the most beautiful shade of purple. It made her look like a damn princess.

She was a princess.

The princess he had saved in the woods. The princess who he help cross the river and saved her from a watery demise. The princess who he shared his first kiss with. The princess who was his voice of reason, the one who remained by his side through everything.

She was his princess.

He smiled gently as he took a final look at the picture for now and placed it back on her nightstand, then snuggling into the comfort of her bed, letting her intoxicating smell fill his body. “You look extremely comfortable” she commented as she walked back into the room. She walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out what he guess to be a nightdress. A deep shade of navy blue. She slipped it over her body and crawled into bed beside him, pulling the covers over his shoulders.

“I am” he nodded “and I’m happy. I’m so fucking happy. I love you so much (Y/N)”

“I love you too Javi. I’ve always loved you” she told him as she shuffled closer to him, pressing her lips to his again.

This time their kiss was more heartfelt, more meaningful. It was used to try and get across just how much they loved each other, but they both had a feeling that they would never be able to convey that, through anything. She rolled on top of him, his arms wrapping around her waist, not holding her as tightly this time.

“Oh Javi” She whispered in between kisses “I missed you so much”

Her voice was sad. Her fingers were gentle as the stroked down his cheek. “I missed you too (Y/N). Every fucking day I missed you. I feel like such an idiot. For not...for not being with you. For not telling you sooner. My life has been so empty with out you in it. Even when I did have you...I just felt so alone. I needed you more than I thought. I need you to fill the emptiness in my heart. I was so fucking scared of how much I loved you, and I fucked off down to Colombia to be a ‘hero’, but I’m not fucking hero. I wanted to change the world. I wanted to save the world. But maybe I should’ve started smaller. Which was saving my world. Saving you”

He watched as a tear rolled down her cheek but she still smiled at him, her hand shakily cupping his cheek. “Javier, you saved me when you built that bridge” she said to him quietly “and you’ve saved me every day since. You are everything to me” her hand gently brushed away some of his hair from his forehead “you don’t need to be sorry for anything. You are the greatest man I know. And we’re together now, so let’s to worry about the past, let’s look more towards the future”

“I’m never going to leave you” he whimpered “you mean the fucking world to me” she smiled and kissed him again, gently, but no less loving. “This is going to make my dad happy” he chuckled quietly.

“I think this is going to make a lot of people happy” she giggled, reach over to turn off the bedside lamp. She went to snuggle into him but was already buried into her. His arms around her waist, their legs entangled together and his head resting on her chest. She smiled and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, her fingers gently stroking through his hair.

“You’ve made me a better person...I feel great...I feel like a...whole new man” he told her.

“You are great” she said “you should know that by now”

“I love you”

“I love you too” 

Masterlist

08/06/20

[ilkkawhat]

For the SOULMATE Alphabet prompt, can I ask E or ESP for Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver please? All these prompts sound like so much fun!

[be gentle with me it’s been like. years since i’ve written these two. i’m being dramatic it’s only been three months.]

There’s one reason and one reason only Jack and Mac would allow themselves to be apart for long times at long distances, and that reason was something that even all of the infinite science in Mac’s brain, all of the infinite wisdom in Jack’s heart couldn’t even explain.

They figured it out when they had parted ways after Lake Como. Both had been too injured to realize that the pain they were feeling—on top of what they were already feeling—was each other’s. Mac thought the pain in his head was his mind overworking itself trying to reconcile Nikki’s (supposed) death. Jack thought the pain in his chest was the early signs of a heart attack, not uncommon in his family. 

They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a month. Mac was finally out of the hospital, Jack was at his apartment. Jack didn’t quite know what to do, give the kid space or hover over him as an emotional Overwatch support, but he ultimately figured that Bozer would tend to him and that he would just pop by for a visit—which never happened because every time he thought of going, there was a forcefield of guilt that kept him from passing through the unlocked threshold to Mac’s house.

Mac, meanwhile, thought it was bad enough that he lost Nikki, he didn’t want to lose Jack, too. His fingers would constantly key over Jack’s number in his phone that he had memorized forwards and backwards. But he didn’t want to bother him. Figured that he was busy with a new job cause the older man was always working non-stop, as much as he would “complain” about the mundaneness of a nine-to-five job; all the paperwork and meetings and lack of an appropriate amount of sick days or whining for a raise, he knew that really Jack just wanted to keep himself busy, occupied.

Or otherwise he’d end up where Mac thought he was in that moment, on a couch, wrapped up in a bathrobe.

“Jack?” Mac gasped himself awake from an almost-nap. He sat up and threw his hand to his side, expecting it to land on Jack’s shoulder, or knee, or just any part of his body that would elicit some witty remark, “the lights go out in those bright eyes of yours, hoss?”

His hand didn’t touch anything. But he definitely felt Jack there with him, on his couch. Smelled him, too. And he was overcome with some strange...sadness. Remorse. It wasn’t a foreign emotion to him at the time, so he had sort of shrugged it off, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him, that the pain meds were too strong.

And then Jack woke him up with a phone call.

“Were you just at my house?” his tone was laced with the usual paranoia that came when anything was out of place at his apartment, but there was an odd sort of seriousness and urgency that Mac felt, too.

“No. Did you come here?” 

“No, not since I drove by last night to drop off some pizza and beer.”

“That was you? Why didn’t you come in?”

“Boze said you were sleepin’ and I didn’t wanna wake you.”

“Well...you woke me up now,” Mac smiled though he knew Jack couldn’t see it.

Yet in a way, he could.

“What is going on here, hoss? It-it’s like you’re sitting right in front of me.”

“I don’t know. You wanna come over? Maybe we can sit by the fire and try to figure it out together.”

“Aight. Be there in ten.”

Jack lived fifteen minutes away.

They sat by the fire and once they passed by the awkward small talk they were able to properly catch up; though Mac didn’t have much to offer with the bed rest he had been sentenced to, but was pleased to announce that he would be beginning his rehab. Jack, meanwhile, got a gig being a stunt coordinator—disguising the fact with a cough that he was also partaking in some of the more dangerous stunts himself. 

It was good that it happened, a brief reunion before a more permanent one that came months later when they got to go back to work together, the small steps leading to a true recovery of a slightly tarnished friendship in the face of a failed mission.

It wouldn’t be the last time.

They don’t feel anything unexpected, again, thinking it was just their own emotions they were waving through and the yearning for each other’s presence, but one of the first times they were separated, it was stronger than ever before. 

And it wasn’t even that big of a separation. Just a few feet. A couple more feet. Maybe the length of a basketball court, at most. Mac moving backwards. Jack standing still. Jack could feel the panic rising within Mac as he scrambled to defuse the bomb Jack was standing on. Mac could feel the sheer dread and terror pouring out of the sweat beads on Jack’s skin. 

The stakes hadn’t been so high since Mac had to disarm a bomb within an impossible amount of seconds back at the sandbox—and in hindsight, he can’t help but wonder if that’s when they had formed this new sort of...bond. 

Jack must have figured it out too, because the next time it happened, just a week or so later, it came after Mac had been taken and drugged by the cartel. Jack was in full on rescue mode, dressed from head to toe in tactical gear—but he had to remove the helmet when he felt like he had some sort of mask smothered on top of his face. And then he felt lightheaded. And then he felt...woozy. 

He pushed through it to save Mac—and in seeing Mac the odd sensation had washed away but when Mac told him that’s exactly what he felt when he was put under, the pieces were put together in Jack’s head.

“What kind of Vulcan mind-meld shit is this!?”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s like we’re getting into each other’s heads, a-and feeling each other when we’re apart.”

“You can admit it Jack, you just miss seein’ your sunshine boy,” Mac had waved him off with a poor imitation of his accent. 

“I’m serious, buddy this is...this is real. I-I don’t know how to explain it but it’s like we’re...we’re…”

“Soulmates?”

“Yeah! That’s the word.”

“How romantic.”

Jack couldn’t help but feel slightly hurt by Mac’s downplay of his emotions, their emotions over their new transcended level of connection he never thought he would have with another man, let alone another person in his life.

But Mac would soften when his emotions got cranked to eleven. 

It was their first real argument since the Sandbox. Jack tracking Mac down to Paris—which, with this new sixth sense of being able to feel Mac wherever he was when he wasn’t with Jack, he didn’t need to work as hard but he still explained how easy it was to track him down, even without their newfound “special powers,” as Jack claimed them to be—and beyond the confusion he was secretly pleased to have such an ability, harkening back to his childhood days of reading comic books and jumping off couches with a bedsheet cape on his back. 

They both felt each other’s resentment, each other’s anger, until Jack calmed down when Mac called an apologized. He let Mac’s voice go to voicemail, but followed his call like he was lured by a siren.

Even though he tried to joke about a “groveling apology” that he knew Mac wasn’t actually going to give him despite the actual upset he had felt and truly wanted to apologize for to Jack, Jack entered the house knowing something was wrong.

Because he couldn’t feel Mac at all. Couldn’t feel him joking around with Bozer. Couldn’t feel him lost and searching for a deadbeat father who abandoned him—a sensation Jack didn’t quite understand until he felt Mac reliving it in his worst nights. Couldn’t feel him happy to be with the Phoenix family.

Mac’s house was as empty as Jack felt, and he was on the verge of losing it like never before—until he felt a cold shiver creep through is body. Felt a sharp prick, felt like his body was being pumped and drained at the same time.

Felt fear mixed with anger mixed with...vague...intrigue and the last time he felt it, Jack was at the mercy of a small red dot boring into his chest while Mac played the most dangerous game of cat and mouse.

And this time, he was the mouse.

“My spidey-senses are all telling me the same thing...It’s Murdoc.”

He hoped and prayed that he could somehow ease Mac’s terror with his own determination to find him. He swallowed down his tears, swallowed down his guilt for the sake of giving the kid some sort of hope with a forced sense of confidence that he would find him in no time.

And no time is exactly what he felt. What they both felt. Jack’s confidence turned to confusion when Mac no longer felt trapped, but instead...lost. And paranoid. Even more paranoid than Jack himself. 

So lost that even when they physically found each other, it still seemed like forever until they emotionally found each other again, with more and more separations, more victimizations on their more deadly missions with gunshots and electrocutions and gas chambers. Fits of inexplicable rage and jealousy as they explored other interests besides each other. Odd sensations of loneliness when they weren’t working together. 

Even when they were actually trapped together in Mac’s house, sitting on another bomb, it took them a whole episode of reminiscing how they got together in the first place that made them realize how no matter how often they would be lost from one another, they would always find each other, even in their worst moments. 

And it was after that near miss they both exchanged real apologies. Mac admitted that perhaps this “mind meld” was real after all. Jack said “having you stuck with me ain’t so bad after all. Toldja I’m never gonna leave you, there’s definitely no getting rid of me now.”

“But...what’s going to happen when...one of us dies?” Mac didn’t even want to ask it. Didn’t actually even say the words. 

Jack asked the same thing when he was prematurely laid to rest in a burning coffin, descending into hell and screaming for Mac both in the literal sense and the emotional sense—so much so that Mac could hardly take it—he felt like he was on fire and oh god, he actually was as he put his hands on the burning wood and freed Jack from inferno. 

“Being burned alive...was always curious,” Jack breathed, putting a hand that oddly felt ablaze on his chest, while Mac danced on figurative hot coals.

“You’re insane, man.”

“I don’t think death is the end,” Jack answered him finally, when they were being wrapped up by the paramedics.

“How much smoke did you inhale?” Mac almost laughed, confused as to what he was referring to, thinking he had some sort of existential realization on the precipice of death.

“But wh-what if when one of us dies...the other will too? Kaboom-kaboom,” Mac continued the conversation after a particularly rough day spent in the war room with a beaten, sunken black eye while Jack ran around pretending to be a lone wolf yet he was wrangling up the pack and doing a favor by helping out his daughter’s real father, the conflicting emotions of which didn’t ease Mac’s troubles, either.

“Told ya, that won’t be it. There’s gonna be something after kaboom. For both of us.”

“Then why do you always fight so hard for us not to explode?”

“Cause I can’t let you have too much fun when you’re dropping those improv-bombs to get us out of sticky situations. There’s still a few things I wanna do before I move on from this world.”

“Right, your bucket list,” Mac smiled. 

“Exactly, hoss. And what’s say...we cross another one off now?” 

They were interrupted, as always, by an emergency call that revealed the truth about Mac’s father, and a falsification of how they had been brought together.

“Who do you think pulled the strings to pair you two together in Afghanistan?”

Bullshit. And Jack made a point of pointing that out, and how dare he even make the implication that even if things didn’t work out between Jack and Mac, that there would just be another Overwatch put in his place, and another, until Oversight saw fit that his son would be taken care of like he never had done for him before?

Needless to say, there were a lot of emotions, conflicting ones at that—even Jack himself was torn between sucking up to the boss but also wanting to punch him in the face, and do minor things like refuse handshakes, accidentally trip him, anything to just...annoy him without a fireable offense, per se.

But when Mac left the Phoenix, he may as well have gone, too.

He still doesn’t know why he didn’t. Was it some sense of duty to protect the remainder of the pack? Was it the same hesitation he had when Mac took his leave of absence after Nikki’s death, wanting to give him space but still wanting to suffocate him at the same time? 

Was it fear that one day, Mac would walk away from him, too?

While the separation was brief, only a few months though it felt like years—especially when Jack felt the length of Mac’s hair on his own chin that allowed him to measure the actual length of time that had elapsed, when they came face to face again it still felt like they were worlds apart.

Because Mac abandoned his family. 

Mac abandoned Jack.

And in what godforsaken world would that happen?

The same world where Jack would do the same almost half a year later. 

“NO!” Mac shouted, rising from another cold-sweat nightmare. 

Jack laid beside him, startled awake. 

“Everything okay, hoss?” Jack whispered. 

“Just...just...had a bad dream,” Mac whispered back. 

They would keep their voices low, but their emotions high. There were certain things that just had to be said to be understood as felt between them.

“I missed you,” Mac gulped. 

“You know I’m right here, don’t ya?” Jack laughed from his own bed, Mac felt a gentle scratching at the back of his head.

“I know. I know you’re here, it’s just…”

He turned his head, he didn’t even know why he was whispering, the house had never been so silent before. No snoring Bozer. No Jack strumming the guitar on a restless night. No keys clicking beneath the speed of Riley’s rapid fingers. No phonecalls from Matty.

“You’re not. Not even alive.”

“Who in the hell told you that?”

“The...the army.”

Mac’s phone rang, he answered without even looking at the number. The ring was for a video call, so he lazily pulled the string of his bedside lamp.

Jack was on the other side, soft fauxhawk and subtle stubble tracing the start of a beard on his face.

“My God, what fucked up dream did you have, man?” 

“The kind that lasts forever,” Mac mumbled. “That felt...too real…”

“I turned down the Kovac mission, you remember that, right? The image was fake. Just a taunt. The broadcast orchestrated by Murdoc just to dick around with us again.”

“I know, I know it just...I can’t help but wonder what could have...could have happened if you…”

“You gotta stop beating yourself up so much, kid. I’ve told you, over and over, this ain’t one of those ‘you hurt me, so I’mma hurt you’ sort of games. We don’t do that manipulative shit.”

“Jack, I left you—”

“You left the Phoenix. I stayed. My choice.”

Jack suddenly felt the corners of his eyes burn. The corner of Mac’s eyes burn.

“I wanted you to come with me.”

“I know. And I wanted to.”

“I know,” Mac swallowed. “I...I felt that you did but...why didn’t you?”

“You walked away that day but you didn’t walk alone. I was there with you the entire time. You know that.”

“But you weren’t!” 

“You’re right. You’re right,” Jack shook his head, squeezing his face. He waved his tongue over his lips, Mac suddenly felt freshness over the chapped flesh that was trembling as he held the tiny screen of Jack in between his hands.

“I...I knew how you felt, being abandoned by your Dad...Cause I did that to Riley.”

“You didn’t...abandon her—”

“Then what would you have called it?”

It was a question Mac didn’t have an answer to.

“Regardless, I think it’s safe to say that you’re not the only one with abandonment issues, I’m just...on the other side of the spectrum. Worlds apart from the pain you musta felt when dear ol’ Dad leftcha and I shouldn’ta tried to push you back together without thinking how you might have felt—”

“Jack, Jack, it’s fine. I-I know you just...you had good intentions. Cause of what happened to your Dad.”

Jack nodded, wiped a hand over the running nose that Mac felt, though his was dry.

“And anyway, I just. I was scared, I guess. Didn’t know what to do. Hadn’t been on that side of the coin before. It may have hurt you but it...it hurt me, too.”

“I know it did. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” 

“So...where do we go from here?” Mac asked, clearing his throat. 

“Doesn’t matter, really. Cause no matter where you go, where I go, where we both go...We have each other.”

Mac felt Jack’s touch, though it was a poor substitute for the real deal, as he closed his eyes and envisioned him sitting next to him, his arms wrapped around him, hugging him to his chest. 

“Forever,” Mac sighed, and Jack smiled as he felt the reassurance that while it had been stretched and twisted and tested, their bond would never be broken.

Not even in a death that Jack oddly felt he had just narrowly missed by some sort of guardian angel watching over him.

[adanceineorzea]

Tagged: Getting To Know You OOC

NAME: Anglicised version of Guinevere. If you're an 80's kid you had at least 10 of us in every class.

NICKNAME: My main blog @wolftabard is the name I use in most online spaces but I generally abbreviate it to Wolf. I think that's the closest I have to an online nickname these days.

FACECLAIM: Do you mean my face? If you mean for my characters / muses then I don't really do faceclaims.

PRONOUNS: She/her or They/them are both fine! <3

HEIGHT: 5′10"

BIRTHDAY: I'm a January Aquarius

AESTHETIC: Flannel shirts, overalls, baggy shorts, tshirts I got from work, polo shirts, work boots. I want a tattoo very badly and I've been debating re-piercing and working on upping the gauge in my ears? HOT MESS FARM BUTCH, basically.

LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO: Ocean by Devon Baldwin

FAVORITE MUSE(S) YOU’VE WRITTEN: In FFXIV it's a tie between Cera and Lir. I've done a bunch of writing for both of them but I haven't posted much for Cera. I need to edit her stuff and clean it up, but why do that when I could just RP more, ugh.

–Getting to know the account

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO TAKE ON THIS MUSE:

Cerathil: Cera started out as a Night Elf in WoW, and I was still really pumped for her when I hopped over to FFXIV. I struggled mightily with adjusting her character for the game partially because I didn't know much about the FFXIV lore, but mostly because in WoW she had a lot of very WoW specific problems (demon hunter wife, anti-magic nelf stigma, fel addiction fears) so I ended up developing Lir and coming back to her later. She's almost a completely different person from WoW Cera, but this is mainly due to timeline differences. FFXIV Cera got out of the military and embraced her true passions while WoW Cera was stuck in a job she hated fighting a war she never wanted to be part of. Consequently FFXIV Cera is a lot happier, more fulfilled person. This makes her solidly outside of the type of character I usually play so I'm struggling a little with staying connected to her current story.

Dove: I really wanted to play a monk. I mained monk in WoW for years and Dove is partially inspired by an old Tauren monk of mine, although she's much more scholarly than Maha was. I haven't gotten hugely into her yet as I'm still developing her but I'm very excited to have a big buff bruiser lady again! Also I adore Roe ladies so it was high time I settled on one for myself.

Lirene: I wanted to make a criminal character to play with some friends that do crime shenanigans (/wave) but I also wanted someone that didn't have crime as her ultimate goal. Enter Lir. Who is inspired by any character with noble ideals and practical executions. She ended up being waaaaaaaay softer than I expected but that could be because her main plot line so far has revolved around meeting her wife, albeit through the manipulations of the cartel they're both involuntarily working for. I don't think she's worked out terribly well for crime shenanigans at least in part because she's so terribly protective and ended up liking playing by the rules too much. Oh well. I still love her tho!

Tristan: Machinist is fun, pewpew. I need to work on developing her more.

Hfyrn: I honestly just wanted a botanist before I realized I'd also have to level her adventuring class, but I love her aesthetic so she's staying even if I don't play her much. Enjoy the flowers and fluffy soft posts she brings this blog.

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE ASPECTS OF YOUR CURRENT MUSE:

Just gonna answer this for Cera and Lir since they're my main gals at the moment!

Cera: I really like how versatile Cera is in roleplay situations. Because of her job as an entertainer and something of a spy she's always looking to either blend in and observe, or else command and direct attention to where it best serves her needs. She can be manipulative and deceptive, but she's almost never intentionally cruel about it.

I also adore the delightful relationship between her and her wife, Mhaelou Dhemoenwyn, because theyre' such glaring opposites. Lou is a huge, raucous, beast of a pirate woman that loves fighting, chaos and mayhem, but is generally against outright killing people. Cera is refined, elegant, thoughtful, and while she's a day-to-day pacifist she's also perfectly willing to kill if doing so will keep her family safe. Neither of them want to change anything about the other, and they adore one another in a way that's stupidly cute and soft.

Lir: Oh, Lir. I love Lir because she is good hearted, and strong, and capable in interesting ways that she doesn't fully realize. She thinks of herself as a lost cause. Someone that's not really worthy of the things she's gotten in life so far. She thinks she's defined by her failures and all the ways she's sacrificed her ideals on the alter of survival and practicality. She's just so fucking stupid about herself and can't see what makes others love her.

Lir is also a character that wants things and is afraid to reach for them, but has recently been given a big helping of motivation in the form of her amazing wife. (There is a trend here.) Shay doesn't seem to have any problem with reaching for the stars and Lir is gonna be damned if she's gonna let her wife down.

WHAT’S YOUR BIGGEST INSPIRATION WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING:

Talking with my wife and friends about roleplay stuff! I'm certainly inspired by other things, movies, games, mythology, art, etc. But talking through potential plot ideas or bouncing things around with my friends is just... *chef kiss* The. Best.

Some of my favorite plot things we've done have evolved out of "OMG wouldn't it be funny if" conversations with my wife in particular. Then we have our characters end up in hilarious/ridiculous situations and they make us cry because they're so sweet and stupid and lovable.

FAVORITE TYPES OF THREADS:

I like juicy character development stuff. Just yeet my characters into a situation where they have to poke outside their comfort zone, or else confront head-on something they've been struggling with. Doesn't matter what the setting is. It could be an action packed situation where they have to confront their unsustainable relationship with violence, or it could be a quiet moment of introspection that leads them to a big revelation later on. I want my characters to be like plants - they always need to be growing!

Tagged by: @luck-and-larceny Thank you again, this was another great ind interesting ask!

Tagging: My wife who needs to check her tumblr.

[boogiewrites]

Never Break the Chain Pt. 4

Part 4 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary:  Esme is left with the harsh reality of her feelings with Javi and what loving him means. Lead by her heart and her gut she leaps into action to try to secure her hopes of having a future with him. But in their line of work, things can take a turn for the worse in a second.

Warnings/Tags: Injury. Canon Typical Violence. Life or Death. 

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

To hold herself together in times of distress Esme had to fall apart from time to time when she was alone. Tonight was going to be one of those times. She secluded away in her small hideaway in the mountains. She had always enjoyed her own company, knowing the difference between being alone and being lonely, but the latter was heavy on her back as she sat red-eyed on the bed, looking out the plantation shuttered double doors in her bedroom.

Her mind couldn’t decide if talking to Javi had been a mistake or not. She felt every buried emotion in a rush that left her a sloppy, blotchy mess. There was no one around for kilometers to hear her, so she let it all out. The rosary she’d mentioned to Javi was occupying her hands as she bounced her legs, full of anxious energy.

Before, the consequences of knowing Javi were something she could deflect, although the coincidence of knowing a cop from over four thousand km away from her childhood would be a hard sell, she hadn’t worried drastically about it. The more intricate reality of how she felt about him was what she was wrestling with. The fact that she had seen him, touched him, talked to him were no longer what ifs’ or fantasies but hard facts. The fact she was struggling with most intensely was that she was still very much in love with him. Before he was a memory, a myth, a story to be told over drinks. He was now the man in the next town over, sharing her same sentiment in both love and life. They weren’t kids anymore, he’d been right about that. Which meant seeing their lives for what they were in the harsh light of day and not through rose-colored glasses. Where they had wanted to be was no longer a thing to strive for, it’d become a prison of their own making.

She didn’t know if it was her body getting worn or the years of repressed emotions that made her feel so damned exhausted. The thought of going back into the den of the same men that wanted her one love dead suddenly wasn’t as easy to sit with. There were real consequences now. For both of them.

Perhaps it was paranoia, but it’s kept her alive this long. She had her bug-out bag by the bed, rosary wrapped around her wrist, and slept with her shoes on. She rubbed the wooden beads like a worry stone; even though she hadn’t been sure what she believed in for many years. Especially not after the things she’d seen, or the things she’d done. There was a strange comfort knowing Javi had a similar sort of experience. Even if she wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. Maybe he would understand. Maybe he was just as tired as she was. Maybe… she had some hope for a future. She had to talk to him again. This time with a purpose, to ask him to leave with her instead of abandoning him again.

———

As she had following every breakdown, she’d dusted herself off and got back to it the next morning.

In a dress and heels that said, ‘Don't fucking question me.’ She walked into the stone-columned entryway in a powerful man's home. It was a nice morning, not a trace of her collapse the night before remained on her face. She sat poised, with understated jewels glinting in the sun. Yet, her favorite accessories were hidden in places the sun wouldn’t hit, those were her weapons.

She had been establishing herself to get to this client, networking, and performing feats to gain trust in a trust-less circle. Playing it cool, she kept her face set into a lovely neutral but curious. It was a grand promise of cash. She found herself in the right spot for the rule as old as time; supply and demand. If she could seize the articles that had been taken from their owners, she would be compensated with a bigger payday than she’d ever encountered. The sentimentality of the pieces, the danger in the retraction, and the previous failures of those that had come before her secured the pay to be something someone like her could not resist.

“They were in my family... generations ago… before their family decided to fuck over mine we were joined by marriage, then by blood. We have not been able to get them through legal or... other means. But you, Estelle, I believe you have a chance to be successful.”

It was flattering but she was already decided by her motives. Enough money to run. And far. Not to mention a comfortable life on the other side when she sold what she’d accumulated over the years and combined with her savings. She’d played it smart the last few years and pulled the plug on the extravagant lifestyle that had beckoned her to this sort of work in the first place. She saw it as a sign, a dazzling neon one directing her to do it. So with a smile and a handshake, she did.

These people she operated with were not the cartel, but that did not make them just as dangerous. They had their hands in every sort of money stream and political influence. They couldn’t go into this location she was to infiltrate guns blazing, they had to have more finesse and mystery. Which is why they hired out. No connections made for less chance of blowback and made it easier to deny the job was them. And by the time they had to worry about such things, she’d be long gone.

She was being personable, enjoying a cocktail by a sapphire-blue pool and eavesdropping on the conversations around her. While ignoring the guy trying to impress her that had perched next to her she was tuned in to the young man that had a two-way radio by the stone fence that enclosed the pool.

They spoke English from time to time which she found unusual. But if they were looking to not be understood it wasn’t the worst approach. The staff here wouldn’t be able to understand them. Most of the men presumably wouldn’t recognize it either. Esme however spoke fluent English. She was raised by a Mexican mother who pushed her to speak English to fit in in Texas. At home, she was one person, a fluent tongue, and outside she was the brown girl that was berated with “HABLA ENGLAISH?” By every white woman she ran into. It had saved her more than once; when she was younger and especially now.

“The pigs are out today.” A statement she knew wasn’t about the animal was caught.

“Pigs are out every day.”

“They think they’re up to something.”

Esme knew that the people that were being referred to were the drug runners. These mining types didn’t pay much mind to cops, they paid them off when they needed and they were mostly left alone. When you have the foresight to build a public image with legal means of income, it’s easier to hide the sketchy shit.

“The gringo is asking questions.”

One of the white boys must have been trying to gather intel in the force. It could be Javier's partner but she couldn’t know for sure.

“Boss? Do we need to let the boys in town know? Is there going to be anything we don’t want them getting mixed up in?”

He thinks for a moment, Esme seeing him out of the corner of her eye, a squint down the mountain and onto the sprawling city below. “Our boys are in the east today, yes?” a pause and a nod of acknowledgment. “Tell them to come home.”

With that order, her jaw tightens. Esme knew something was going to happen. These men might not be narco’s but they certainly knew them, and ordinarily, they would tip the other off to trouble. Business going as usual was best for all involved. Normally she’d head back to her hideaway, let it all play out. But she knew if there was some trap that Javi’s partner might be falling into, that meant trouble for Javi. She couldn’t stand by idly and wait with that knowledge.

She remained composed, finishing her drink before a schmoozy goodbye, a promise to catch up as soon as plans were made. She acted nonchalant until she was past all the checkpoints, she knew better than to act in any sort of rush. Her little cabana was tucked away out of sight from the road between the deeply nooked mountain homes of powerful men and the city. She tried calling into town, a risk she was willing to take while she scurried to change her clothes and add a gun to her ensemble. She asked for Pena first. When she was informed he was not there she asked for his partner, and the same answer found her. She hung up swiftly, heavily armed but light on information. She knew the east side of the city would be the smallest area she could narrow it down to. She hoped her mind didn’t fail her at calculating where to go.

On her motorbike she darted about the streets, eyes peeled, heading by Javi’s place and finding his car gone, and the oil spots now dry, in its wake. He hadn’t been home in a while. Was it the smartest idea to break into an officer’s apartment? No. But was she? Yes. Javi had always been a researcher, if they were going to be zeroing in on a place, he would’ve been to it already. He was an active learner, not passive. He’d never be satisfied with being told what to do, he had to get in and see, touch, taste, and smell for his own opinion to be formed. She took a quick loop around, finding nothing out of the ordinary and circling back to the front door. The place was nicer than she’d expected, it did smell like liquor and cigarettes but so did he off hours. A little mirror and a catch-all basket by the door on a small table was her target, and inside were matchbooks, places she’d watched him go before buried beneath but one she wasn’t as familiar with on top. A pool hall, which wasn’t Javier’s style, sat like a sore thumb. She took the hint, this must’ve been the place they were headed, or at least close to it. She pulled her hair back and looked at herself once in the mirror before a nod to reassure herself and once again she was back out among the busy streets.

She pulled up and parked by a small marketplace, a casual place to leave her bike while she set off on foot, eyes behind her glasses ready to pick up any little nuance. Sadly seeing a guy with an automatic rifle wasn’t automatically a tell for narco behavior, this part of town was rough, you had to defend yourself. The uptick in the number of guys sauntering in the streets with them did however raise a red flag. She took to the rooftops with light feet, sneaking about and hopping from ledge to tin roof, shimmying up pipes and broken walls to scan. Not many were out on their rooftops, making it easy for her to cover lots of space fast, but that was also a bad sign. Like before a natural disaster happens, the animals clear out. The sentiment was the same.

She found a nice place to camp out, shaded by the sun and out of sight of the street on a corner near the pool hall. She could hear the static of a two-way radio a few buildings over from time to time, each time it made her jolt and she was growing impatient. The only thing that kept her calm was that she hadn’t heard any gunshots, and even that was grasping at straws. She eyes a few streets down, higher-end vehicles in red and blue, one after another. This meant one of two things, narcos or cops. She leaves the safety of her cubbyhole and crawls about to find a way to move quickly. She wasn’t being the most stealthy, leaping from ledges, but she had to follow the cars. Her instincts had been right.

Men in and out of uniform pile out, talking quietly, moving swiftly. Now she had to worry about staying out of sight as she got closer. She saw men on the rooftops she hadn’t noticed before, with sights on their guns and she would bet itchy trigger fingers. The static of a distant radio blurts out, a hushed voice in Spanish says “They’re here. Moving into position.”

It was a trap. The situation made her stomach drop and her pulse quicken. She wanted to be close, to warn them… well, to warn Javi. She was about to insert herself into the narco’s game and that would put a huge target on her back. It would potentially ruin her chances of booking this career-ending job she’d landed. She pulls out her gun, switching the safety off, and lowering herself with burning thighs as she used all her slyness. She could get away with it if she was smart about it... and killed all the witnesses.

She knew between the choices of standing by and watching Javi die, or intervening and getting ousted, she could only live with herself in one of those situations. Better to go out fighting for someone she loved than to be a coward and die with regrets. She jumps ahead, closer to where they seemed to be funneling to, various bursts of static around her as she studies to keep a close eye on not coming across anyone lurking.

She sees that shiny, coiffed head of black hair she’d wanted to run her hands through just days before, the lean build and tight jeans wrapped up in a bulletproof vest. His head was on a swivel, she knew he could look after himself but wasn’t about to take chances. She finds a man on his stomach, gun through a small slot in the wall, and aimed in their direction. She takes her moment patiently, padding foot over foot closer and closer with her gun drawn and her knife at the ready in the other hand. He wore no identifying markings, he wasn’t one of them, he might’ve heard her if he was. He was too zeroed in, potentially coked up so she had to act discreetly. She paused until that coke nose of his itched, hand off the trigger for only a few seconds before she latched and covered his mouth, head back and stabbing in deep to keep him making any sounds. It’s not that she wanted to kill him, she just saw no other way for this interaction to go down.

From here she had a better vantage point and was trying hard to look away from Javi and keep her eyes on every alley and rooftop. She lines up her eye with the scope, seeing it was aimed right at the group, she notices a man across from her, just a slight bit of an angle, an accomplice she assumed. The group moved forward, inching closer to being in between the two guns' direct line of sight. There wasn’t even a need for the sights at this point, a spray could take most of them out in a few seconds. These were calculated kills.

“Dibs on the gringo.” a crackle over the radio in Spanish, then another, “Which? There’s so many.” a hiss of laughter and she hears it from the other side of a half wall. They must’ve had multiple men camped out, she knew they intended to kill as many as possible. She couldn’t scream out, she couldn’t shoot them, she had to find that millisecond between when they would shoot and let their position be known. “When they get to the cars. Wait. Then fire.”

“What if I don’t fuckin’ want to? I want to shoot this smug look off this mother fucker’s face.”

“We won’t get them all if you don’t wait.”

She had pieces of information and tried to see the whole picture. She believed in the car there was a remote bomb being held by one of these sicarios. It’d take a good piece of them out and render them blind. It was a plan that had worked many times, but this time she’d be happy to fuck up a well-laid plan.

“Get the white boy, he’s been snooping. I got the mustache. Asshole fucked my sister.” If this had been any other situation it would’ve made her laugh, or at least crack a smile. But now it gave her a target, a plan of action.

“Maybe if your sister wasn’t a whore.” one laughs then a hiss follows throughout the rooftops among the static.

“Fuck you, man. Shut up or I’ll make sure you get shot today too.”

She moved as quickly as she could, having to backtrack to not be seen and climb over the wall to sneak up on the boy who was claiming Javi as a prize. She hunched over him, taking a chance at being seen, but since she couldn’t make out the placements of any of the other voices, she took her chances. A tension-filled hush fell across the street, no one but the cops out now. She waited for the man to readjust his arm, a sure sign of pulling the trigger shortly. They were holding their breath for the bomb, and she was assuming it was the double-parked cars, waiting for the group to get between them and hit them from all angles.

He swallowed, then popped his neck, settling down, face away from the hole he aimed out of and she took only a second to make up her mind. She shot him in the head as he braced himself.

“TRAP!” she screamed with all the force she could manage, tasting blood as she hit the ground, the cops now on high alert to the rooftops, and the guns fired. She’d given them enough time to duck for cover, having to take out the gunfire from one side of the street herself. She heard the bullets whizzing by as she hunched and ran down to the street, an alleyway where Javi had huddled down a moment before she saw the men barrel down the stairs opposite them. They’d had the same idea. “JAVI!” she screams, gun out and trying to peak from behind a dumpster.

His eyes were wild for the second he met hers. Confusion is all that read on his face, unable to answer under the gunfire.

“FOLLOW ME!” she shouted, firing off rounds to cover him as she motioned him towards her.

“You wanna explain-?” He’s caught off by the bombs in the street going off, knocking him back.

“SHUT UP AND RUN!” she shouts, shoving him forward, “You’re surrounded. Head West!” it’s all they needed, him hitting the pavement as hard as he could and her grabbing him by the vest to jerk him the way she needed. She hoisted him up against walls, all while hearing the men shouting and the stray spray of bullets hitting the corners they’d just passed. She knew they weren’t concentrated west, the men would instinctively run east towards the station, towards the backup, but she knew better.

She raced ahead, a small blocked-off space high up is what she yanks him down into. They don’t speak for a moment, catching their breath and her pushing him down to look out to see if anyone had been able to keep up with them.

“Now can I ask a fucking question?!” he rasps out.

“I got wind of something going down in the east today. So I came. And you should be kissing my ass for saving yours!”

“We were about to-”

“About to get blown the fuck up. Whatever you thought that was, it was a trap.”

“How did you know?” his eyes narrowed at her accusingly.

“I know that look and no, I’m not working with the narcos. I overheard some cronies at my meeting this morning. I narrowed down the options, ran across town and scoped it out, took out two guys, and then...lit the keg and ran.”

He blinks rapidly in response, processing the information.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. They wanted to kill you and your partner pretty bad.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Apparently you fucked one of their sisters?”

"I stand by my response.”

She smiles at him, something he doesn’t expect. He doesn’t have time to react until a few stray bullets hit something near them causing them to hunker down again.

“You could’ve gotten killed you know.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” she rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious.” he grabs her wrist. “I have to deal with you being with these other... assholes and not the ones I deal with. Don’t make me worry twice about you.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it. I promise. I wasn’t about to let you walk into an ambush.” she states defensively.

“I’ve made it out before.” he huffs defensively.

“You will until one day you won’t.” when she meets his eyes again, after seeing his soot-covered knuckles wrapped around her wrist, she adds “If I can keep your ungrateful ass around long enough to make up for all the shit I put you through I’m gonna do it.”

He looks her up and down, but not how he had countless times with women, but biding his time to figure out what about that statement he wanted to ask her first. “What do you want me around for if you’re not gonna be there?” It was direct and hurtful, but also a fair point.

She stops looking out and meets his dark eyes to hers, she looked almost offended. “I want to be around,” she says softly. “I just wasn’t sure how.”

“Stay with me. Stop running. I’ll keep you safe.” he moves his hand from her wrist to interlock his fingers into hers.

“Over 20 years and you still haven’t come up with anything else?” she jokes and squeezes his hand. “I did want to talk to you about it. About… us...” she spoke softly and paused, ears perked up to the movement outside.

“What do y-”

“Shh.” a quick and low serious squeeze of his hand. “Someone’s close.”

“Where the fuck are you Javi?” blares out over his radio on his chest. Not a second later, bullets are coming through the back of their hiding spot, scrambling to get out, despite her fighting him, he covers her.

“Rooftop. West.” is grunted out as he and Esme wrestle to be the one to shoot the perpetrator.

She hits his chest and then right in the head, falling in a slump before she notices Javi is no longer hovering and trying to keep her down. A quick turn, intaking the rest of the space, knowing more would be on their way soon, and whether they were cops or sicarios she couldn’t let them find her. In her rush she hasn’t noticed Javi on the ground, she sees his face for only a second, slightly confused before looking at up her the moment she sees his side and hands covered in blood.

“Oh fuck, Javi... no.” She spits out and immediately ducks over him

“S’not... good news sweetheart.” He gives her a smirk, one she’d seen a thousand times on a younger version of his face. She knew with that expression alone it was indeed not good.

She doesn’t get time to react, to even breathe before more shots make her go into survival mode. She covers him, dragging him to a nearby brick wall to at least be safe from one side while she covered the others.

“Can you watch behind me while I look at this?”

“Yeah.” A pause while he holds his gun out. “I can try.”

“Was that your partner on the radio?”

“Yeah should be here soon.”

“Let’s hope so.” She grits her teeth and can’t tell if the shot went straight through, which meant he would probably be okay if it hit in and was now embedded in his stomach. Either way, this wasn’t ideal, to say the least.

“There’s-“

Before he gets it out she’s turned and shooting more men trying to get on the roof, none having the foreign blonde hair and pale skin of his partner.

“You should get out of here... y’know. They’ll ask questions.”

“I’m not leaving you.” She applies pressure to his side and he lets his head fall back to the wall with a heavy breath.

“Now is a hell of a time to start.”

She gives him a hard brow but would normally laugh because he had a point. “I never... ugh.” She grunts in frustration, shooting another man a few rooftops over. “I never wanted to leave you.” She continues trying to figure out the best way to slow the bleeding down. “It's the last thing I wanted to do. You know that right?” She asks to receive no response.

She sees he’s lost consciousness. Now it was proving to be worse than she had hoped. Cursing under her breathe, fighting back tears, the burning making a splitting headache form in her forehead, she uses the only thing in sight she can, taking her shirt off and ripping it tie a makeshift tourniquet around him.

She hears a bark from a man that sounds almost familiar and a dead giveaway as a cop. His partner was almost there. “You’ll be fine Javi.” She whispers, not knowing if she believed it or if he could even hear her. She kisses his cheek and holds his head close for a moment. A few seconds of kissing his hair, trying to forge a deep memory from a rushed moment. Just in case.

“JAVI?!” She hears shouted.

“UP HERE!” she shouts, knowing she had to get away but wasn’t going to leave him until she had to. She was soon not given a choice when orders were barked at her on sight.

She used her savvy, knowing how to get away, even if it was a stretch. “He’s shot.” She says backing away with her hands up to the edge of the roof. “Murphy, please don’t let him die.” She begs as the man’s face softens for a moment, she recognized he must have understood who she was.

The man coming up behind him however didn’t. He fires off a shot, hitting her and forcing her to make an abrupt jump from the rooftop.

“SHIT!” Murphy barks again and shoves the other man’s gun to aim down at the ground. “Don’t shoot HER!” He shouts in the man’s face. “She was helping him! Can’t you see that?!” He runs to the edge, looking down and seeing nothing but a dumpster and a few drops of blood on the pavement. Javi had been right. She was good.

@jaegeeeeer​ @likedovesinthewnd​ @inkededucatednnerdy​  @biharryjames @ladamari68​ @past-romantic​ @weliketomoveit @shikin83​ 

[filmbefore]

MEET THE JEON FAMILY !!

mr. and mrs. jeon are two of the most reputation - obsessed people in the state of maryland . neither of them were born into wealth of any kind , but yearned for the luxuries and renown that came with multiple zeros in your bank account . both parents tried a multitude of business ventures and failed many times over , more often leaving the family in even more debt than they started with . they both tried to instill these success and infamy driven values in their three children , seeing their kids as even more routes to their familial success . but when their kids were anything but perfect , it just drove a wedge in their relationship . long story short this whole family has been in their flop era since day one .

ARTHUR JEON : FATHER 

arthur has always held the kids at an arms distance , never wanting them to get to close . this was only made easier by the older man constantly playing a balancing act between the multiple jobs he would hold at once . when he was younger , he tried his hand at all kinds of odd jobs here and there , saving up enough money to marry his long term girlfriend . however , when their first child was born , both he and mrs. jeon decided that they needed a more steady income for their growing family . so , mr jeon took out a loan and decided to open a restaurant ! and you guessed it ! it failed within the first year . and that was just the start of all the bankruptcy that would follow their family for the foreseeable future . but arthur jeon is a shifty lil guy who has always been able to pull on people’s heartstrings and make a quick buck here and there when necessary . of course , having violet , one of the most naive people on earth , as a daughter was really useful for arthur . he had always been able to make violet believe anything he told her , even as she got much older . which is exactly how he manipulated his daughter into being their connection to a drug ring , ship drugs out to grayson , and keep his affairs a secret . violet also learned how to victimize herself through this man ! like , any time she would catch him doing something less than respectable , arthur would pull that “ oh i am just the worst dad ever . i have never been good to you , vv . you deserve better ” which would then put her in the situation of comforting him ,, which is when he would be like “ violet , i know you care for our family . if you tell anyone , everything as you know it will change . you wouldn’t do that right ? ” and suddenly she’s blackmailing the woman he slept with to keep their family together smh Men ..

CLARE JEON : MOTHER

clare jeon is the final boss when it comes to perfectionism ! she has been the one who has always wanted to keep up appearances so that her kids and her family were never seen as ‘ being without ’ because it would reflect poorly on her and her skills as a mother . with one new credit card after the next and money that they should have been using to pay the bank back , clare would constantly buy her kids clothes with money that they didn’t have and drive the nicest car she could afford when driving the kids to school . her standards for her kids were unreasonably high and she was not afraid to let them know when they disappointed her by simply not being the perfect image she had in her head . and unfortunately , violet lived to try and reach her mother’s impossible standards , coming up short every time . after all , the girl had a chronic case of middle kid syndrome and was frequently the butt of her mother’s internalized misogyny . even when grayson was acting up , it seemed as though clare would prefer to deal with his screw ups than give violet the time of day for her newest swim trophy . maybe that was all in violet’s head , but it still left lasting effects on her self esteem . 

GRAYSON JEON : OLDER BROTHER

( DRUGS TW ) these two were thick as thieves growing up . they were only a few years apart in age and the little girl idolized her older brother . grayson almost acted as a loving parent for violet and their younger brother , ben . with the way their parents treated all of them , grayson knew that his younger siblings needed someone to just be there for them and appreciate their accomplishments . even when grayson began getting older and getting into trouble , violet turned a blind eye to the situation , choosing instead to enjoy their time together before he would go away to college someday . however , once grayson began doing drugs more and more often , violet began to distance herself from him in order to make herself look better to their parents . she hoped that if she began to treat him like their parents did , that they would respect her for being so mature for her age ! that didn’t happen . and suddenly , grayson was leaving for an indefinitely long trip to europe . and that’s basically where their relationship went down the mf drain because then violet became her family’s liaison between the ,, shh ,, cartel and grayson away in europe , just causing his drug problems to get worse and worse instead of helping him like a sister should . all because her dad lied to her ,, again ,, and said that him staying out there is what was best for grayson and what was best for their family as a whole . but now grayson is in the elites and violet is Scared as fuck because she knows she absolutely fucked him over !! anyway !!!!!!!!

BENJAMIN “ BEN ” JEON : YOUNGER BROTHER

violet has pretty much always babied ben because he was has always been her little baby ! he has always been a lot more quiet and skittish than his older siblings . think : charlie from the perks of being a wallflower . he’s very emotional and more than a little awkward around other people . he also has that typical jeon kid mentality of wanting to impress his parents so fucking bad , but he hasn’t really grown out of it like grayson and violet have since moving out . he’s still a senior in high school and dealing with his parents’ shit every day . but now he’s alone with them , making it ten times worse . he tries to call violet almost every day , just to be able to talk to someone since he doesn’t really have friends at school . but most of the time , he can only call violet when he’s driving home from school now since their parents won’t talk to violet anymore and would probably be angry as fuck if they found out he was talking to her still . idk bro the boy just can’t wait to go to college and get out of his parents’ house . sweet , sweet kid . love u ben 

GORDON “ GOOSE ” TELLER : HONORABLE MENTION

( DRUGS TW ) okay i couldn’t NOT mention goose in violet’s family task because this man truly is like family to her . bennie covered most of it in their family task for goose , but i just gotta dive in some more from lil vi’s perspective . violet and goose probably met when she was around 12-13 ish ??? because he and grayson met at boarding school . and because goose was always kinda ,,, uh ,, iffy about his home life , grayson would invite him to come spend the summer fucking around in annapolis with him . he was very much like My Older Brother’s Best Friend in violet’s life , in the way that he would kinda pick on her and bug her but really and truly goose just reminds violet so much of some of the best summers of her childhood . she just remembers giving our gemini king a lil late bday party sometime in the middle of june . violet would probably bake a goose a strawberry cake with sprinkles all over it and some odd number of candles stuck here and there . she also remembers riding in the back of her parents’ car with goose and grayson up front , playing some music that their parents would probably kill them for listening to so loudly with the windows down . she remembers her , grayson , goose , and ben sitting on the curb outside of 7-Eleven drinking their free slurpees . god literally just so many memories i could go on and on and on . but like bennie explained in their task , violet and goose obviously did not remain very close after grayson disappeared to europe . especially since violet could pretty much assume where her older brother’s drug habits originated . she has always kind of held some sort of contempt for goose because of that . even now . she will never tell him that , but she has always wondered if things would be different if goose and grayson had never met . she and goose still got close at yale though after realizing that they are the closest thing that either of them had to family when all this blackmailer shit started . idk i just love them a lot 

[hallmark-movie-fanatics]

Hallmark Stars Nikki DeLoach and Andrew Walker Talk Instant Friendship and New Movie Sweet Autumn

The real-life friends open up about their chemistry and connection, bonding over parenthood, and their new Hallmark movie Sweet Autumn

By Kara Warner 

Nikki DeLoach and Andrew Walker have the kind of natural chemistry and charming rapport that has turned into a great long-term friendship and several memorable TV movies.

The actors, both 41, are starring in their third Hallmark movie together, Sweet Autumn, which premieres Saturday. They've been friends since meeting in 2016 and making their first movie together for the Channel, A Dream of Christmas.

"What was really cool is we immediately connected over kids, because we were just being new parents," Walker tells PEOPLE.

"My son Hudson was over a year," adds DeLoach. "So I was still in the, 'How do I do this phase?' for sure. You were a brand, brand spanking new dad."

"I was just like shocked, in the numb kind of phase," jokes Walker. "But I think just immediately, we were two peas in a pod. We're very similar in a lot of ways."

DeLoach agrees, saying that she felt an "instant connection" with Walker, which they sealed toward the start of filming that year with a long, get-to-know-you hang over beers and wings.

"I felt like I had known him my entire life," says DeLoach. "There's just such an ease with Andrew. I do think that there is something that happens, and it doesn't happen for everyone."

Four years later, the actors have expanded their friendship and their families — DeLoach has two sons, Hudson, 6, and Bennet, 3, with husband Ryan Goodell, and Walker and his wife Cassandra have two sons, West, 5, and Wolf, 10 months.

Read on for much more about the two Hallmark fan favorites, including how they have each befriended the other's spouse (a story which includes a wild night of bonding out in Winnipeg that ended at 4 a.m.), making Hallmark movies in the time of COVID-19, and check out the exclusive clip from Sweet Autumn above. 

First impressions 

Andrew Walker: We met on our first movie A Dream for Christmas and obviously, it takes time to get to know somebody that much more, and feel, ultimately, your most comfortable self in front of them. But Nikki was, I can speak for how I felt. It was almost immediate. We went and we had some chicken wings and beer, and just talked and talked about being new parents, and talked about being in Winnipeg, and talked about all the things that you go through as a parent, leaving your kids as well. And balancing work and life.

And then I think what really did it for us, she asked me one weekend, she's like, "Andrew, I hate to ask this, but my husband's coming into town. We're supposed to be in Hawaii right now. He took two weeks off work and I got him to come to Winnipeg. And he's kind of not the happiest about this location. And so are you doing anything fun this weekend, because I've got to work." And I'm like, "Well, I actually got extra tickets to the football game. It's Canadian football, but it's still pretty good. And I've never been to the stadium before, but why don't we meet for a beer before? And we'll just start getting to know each other a little bit." Cut to the second half of the game, I have [her husband, Goodell] in a headlock, we're screaming at the game. It was an immediate connection, We had this great night. We ended up going to watch some more football, and the night, it never ended. We just kept on wanting more. And the next morning Nikki called me, she's like, "What did you do to my husband?" 

Nikki DeLoach: I think you guys got home at like four in the morning or something ridiculous. I was like, I kept looking at the clock and thinking, "It's 1:00 a.m., okay. They're having fun. It's 2:00 a.m.. Okay. 3:00 a.m.. Where are they?" And I didn't want to text, I didn't want to be that girl, so I think somewhere along the way, I just texted and was like, "I don't care what's happening. I just want to make sure that you guys are safe. That's it." And [my husband] texted back, "Super safe. Having a blast. Love you. Go back to sleep." Sometime, at like 4:00 a.m. he crawled into bed. And I was like, "Epic. Epic."

Walker: Now her husband is my entertainment attorney and we're neighbors, in that we live in the same neighborhood. But anyways, Nikki and I now, we're such dear friends, and I think it was apparent the first meeting that we had on A Dream for Christmas. And that movie was amazing. We had such a great cast dynamic. Winnipeg has these local actors that are so generous, and kind, and humble and good.

DeLoach: And for me, literally, it's the same story. Instantly felt like I had known him my entire life. Sometimes you have to find that connective tissue in the moment, and in the scene, and yes, you have to utilize all of your skillset in which to do that. And then other times you just meet people like Andrew and I, who just instantly connected.  Because [working on these movies] you do have to connect really fast. And we played a husband and wife in that movie, so especially when you're playing a relationship like in that, it's really good when that already exists. If you just have an instant connection, it makes it even more believable. 

Third Movie's the Charm — Even During a Pandemic

DeLoach: So we are very fortunate and have just adored each other and each other's families for many years. When this movie happened and Hallmark was like, "Hey, you want to go to Winnipeg to do a movie for Fall Harvest?" And I was thought, "Yeah." And we were looking for our guy, and I texted the producer, Stan Spry. And I said, "What about Andrew?" And he was like, "Oh, I love Andrew, one second." And he called Hallmark, and literally 10 minutes later he said, "They love Andrew for this. Let's see if we can get him." And I had been wanting to work with Andrew again for a really long time. So I can't believe it came together. It was so meant to be.

And I'm so grateful too, because I am so crazy, and a maniac inside of COVID. Anybody who has worked with me, or knows me, knows the lengths to which I've gone to, to protect my family. So having a costar that knows my family and understands how compromised my youngest is meant a lot, because I could text Andrew and say, "Hey, are you cool with testing?" And he's like, "Whatever you need." "Hey, are you cool with this?" "Whatever you need." That was always the response. He was like, "How I can make you feel safe and comfortable and support you?" And so that was huge for me. I knew that, yes, we have great chemistry, and yes, he's a great actor, and yes, we're going to do a good movie, but also how is this experience going to be for me outside of all of that? And so it really was perfect. 

Walker: Even though I've worked with Nikki twice before, the movie we just did right now, it has a way different dynamic than the other two. And I'm really proud of our work that we did on this. And I think a lot of it stemmed from the fact that we were really hands-on with the creative side. And Nikki always is, I think, but I try to bring that to the table.

DeLoach: This specific production specifically, shout out to Stan Spry, and Cartel in Winnipeg. They only have offices in Winnipeg, and also here in LA. And I do just want to shout them out, because they were so on top of it, down to not being able to blow dry our hair in the hair and makeup trailer, because the virus gets in the hair. And so I would blow dry my bangs before I would get to set, or whatever I needed to dry so that it was done. They did such a good job. Even someone like me who is really extremely safe inside of this, felt very comfortable. So crew had to not just wear a mask, but also a face shield. They could not get within 12 feet of an actor without both of those things. And in the hair and makeup trailer specifically, there's no talking unless you are masked, because usually there's all this talking that happens in hair and makeup trailers.

Walker: All the background performers that are in your vicinity, they had to be tested. You keep your own props, as well. So if I had a watch, for example, they disinfect it, but I take care of that watch for the rest of the production. Or if I had a coffee mug in the scene, or Nikki had a briefcase, or something, you're responsible for your props. So you'd have to be aware of resetting yourself.

DeLoach: And you'd get temperature checks every day when you get to set. Andrew and I are tested several times a week. They really did do [everything], and I'm so grateful. I wouldn't have been able to work without all of that. And I'm not saying that all productions are doing that. 

Their Next Collaborations

DeLoach: Andrew and I are both doing the Walk to End Alzheimer's on November 7th. It's a cause that is near and dear to both of our hearts because we've been touched deeply by it by our families. And so Andrew and Cassandra, his kiddos, and then my family, we're all walking on November 7th. The cool thing about the Walks that are happening this year is like, usually if it's in L.A., it's everybody that's in L.A., they get together and you all walk together. But because we're not all getting together to walk, you can walk from anywhere, it's all basically virtual and you can do it from wherever. More people can join and be a part of it. But Andrew also has a juice company that is delicious. Andrew, where can they find their juice?

Walker: It's called Little West and you can get our juice mainly in locations around LA and Southern California. They're up in Northern California as well. Groundworks Coffee, a lot of hotels, the Fairmont, the Four Seasons. You can get our juice at all the grocery stores here [in Los Angeles], at Gelson's, Bristol Farms. And we just signed on with Whole Foods, when Nikki and I were together in Winnipeg. We're rolling out in all of Nevada, Arizona, and all of Southern California stores second week of October.

Walker: And we definitely owe ourselves and our family a [in-person] gathering at some point. We see each other, but we don't. We'll FaceTime, or Nikki will be talking to my wife for two weeks when I don't even know.

DeLoach: I literally talk to [Walker's wife] Cassandra almost every day. I text her about something.

Walker: And I talked to her husband every once in a while too, because if I'm doing a deal or whatever, but Nikki and I don't.

DeLoach: We need to do a trip, actually. We owe ourselves a vacation together because we there's so much time that we need to catch up on. Maybe we'll go to Hawaii, since Ryan was robbed. Rent a big house. We all just go to Hawaii. We give Ryan his trip back.

Walker: Yeah! I like that.

Sweet Autumn premieres Saturday on the Hallmark Channel. 

Link to the full article on people.com right HERE

[lessthanthreeman]

Personal Post

I just wanted to write this because it’s been on my mind and I find it frustrating how few resources there seem to be about it. With Cinco de Mayo coming up, and Latino media being all around, I’m reminded that I’m technically of mixed descent, which to be clear, I’m pretty proud of. I was raised by my mother and her side of the family who are white through and through so for a majority of my life that’s what I identified as and where a lot of my mannerisms and cultural understanding comes from. I imagine it was probably for the best, particularly growing up on Long Island, especially considering I am VERY white passing.

I never met my father (who was Puerto Rican [though later DNA tests on myself reveal that genetically speaking he was predominantly Spanish, so white Hispanic)] and have no desire to. Literally, the extent of my knowledge about him is that he was ethnically Puerto Rican to some capacity. I genuinely believed that women just got immaculately pregnant on their own until I was 7 as I just assumed I didn’t have a father (it’s somewhat embarrassing to admit, even if I was young and how was I supposed to know? I didn’t understand what was so special about the story of Mary for a long time to put it mildly.).

I remember the night I found out so vividly. I was at a sports practice and the kids were talking about their dads. I proclaimed that I didn’t have one. One of the older kids informed me that that was impossible. I was honestly offended and went to our coach, who I assume didn’t know how to respond or why I would even ask (I don’t blame him), so he told me that I definitely have a father. Again, outraged, when I got back home I asked my mother about it who told me that I did have a father.I asked “Well if I have a father, that means I must be half something else” as she had grown up telling me her half and that the other half was “American” because I was born in America (lmao). She told me that I was Puerto Rican, which I didn’t have a problem with. I didn’t even know where that was (and I guess by some technicalities, she wasn’t wrong in saying I was “American”, just “American Territory”) so that was of little impact to me. I was furious that whoever my father was chose to have no part in my life and I felt nothing but bitterness, so when she asked if I wanted to know more about him, I said no. I still like to keep it that way if I’m being honest. I am still bitter and if the little snippets I’ve heard in hushed tones from my other family is any indication, I don’t want to know more about him even if I wasn’t.

So, I continued to consider myself exclusively white because that’s what other people considered me, that’s how I was raised, that’s what I look like and likely subconsciously because I was bitter and it did benefit me on some level. As it turns out though, my mother has a thing for Hispanic guys (a little weird I guess, maybe a bit fetishistic [I don’t know the extent and I don’t want to know so I can’t say for certain], but good for her I suppose) and she soon after got involved with another guy, my now pseudo-step father in all but legality really. He’s of Mexican and Puerto Rican descent, his father lived in Mexico (and has since gone back of his own volition), his mother (IIRC) lived in Puerto Rico, etc. He’s not deeply associated with his roots, he’s definitely “assimilated” having grown up in New York and California. He speaks broken Spanish, perfect English, and really is an American through and through, save for some more traditional cultural vestiges (which isn’t bad to be clear). He loves chihuahuas, sombreros, maracas, Mexican cuisine, Speedy Gonzalez etc. It’s somewhat superficial and a bit stereotypical, but I understand why he feels a connection to it as a very American man. It’s an easy way for him to very clearly connect to his roots, even if they’re not pieces of great cultural significance. Whether or not it’s problematic, I’m glad it gives him some of the connection he wants to his culture and it makes him proud.

Growing up around him and his kids, I felt a bit like an outsider, and I’ll probably admit, initially I was arrogant. I grew up being an only child (which definitely was a big shift to begin with) and couple that with the fact that I was still at that time an academic golden child in traditionally very (BIG quotes here) “polite” (Read: white) environments, I didn’t really jive with my brothers for a long time. As things went on though, I had my golden kid breaking point, crashed out a bit, eventually my mom moved in with him bringing me in tow, and I mellowed out a bit as I got over some teenage angst. During that time, I never fully connected with the heritage because it wasn’t mine, I’m not Mexican, but I understood and appreciated it. I can earnestly say, it is one of the cultures that I am the most fascinated and captivated by. I can go on and on and wax poetic about the historical achievements of Native peoples of Central America, their food, their ability to weather adversity, and their faith that things will get better. The culture is so much deeper than the “illegal immigrants” and cartel ties that we’re constantly shown in media, and I’m glad that to an extent things are slowly shifting to show the humanity of the people. But anyway, tangents aside, I’m still very culturally white and white passing, albeit with a better understanding of Latino cultures.

As more and more time goes on though, I am starting to feel like I’m a bit disconnected from a part of my culture and heritage, but I feel uncomfortable claiming it. Not because I don’t want people to know that I’m Hispanic, I have no issue with that, in fact I love whipping out that I’m sleeper Hispanic with a Hispanic family when people think they’re safe to be a little racist with me before I call them out on it. The reason is just because I don’t feel Hispanic enough and I’m too white, and it’s something I’ve struggled with for a while, but it becomes more and more obvious to me as time goes on. I understand that this is a really common issue for people of mixed races, particularly for those with mixed heritage upbringings. They feel adrift between two worlds and people are always looking for a way to categorize them into their preexisting schemas of how we view race in America. Some of what these people say when I’m looking for it resonates with me, but a lot of it also doesn’t. It’s not because my life is harder or I’m special or anything, but it is a very particularly niche scenario. I grew up almost exclusively white, it’s difficult for me to convince a lot of people that I’m more than white, I grew up with white privilege, and I never really had a Hispanic/Latino experience.

I want to be clear, this isn’t me crying about being white, particularly also being male, cis, and generally het. It’s been a privilege for sure that’s opened up a lot of doors that wouldn’t have otherwise been open to me, I’m sure, and I wish I could extend those same rights, opportunities, and safeties to everybody. That said, I feel like a complete outsider to those roots and feel dirty claiming them. Like I’m taking it away, diluting, or appropriating those cultural celebrations from the people who really deserve them. My experiences with the people and the culture is that they’re ecstatic to share it and have people take an interest in it. It’s generally very inclusive, friendly, and they love to treat you (or at least me as a very small boyish looking man) like family. It’s genuinely awesome. I can’t not think of myself as the generic white dude who works a boring office job and says every Spanish word with the whitest accent possible (to be clear I do work an office job, but I do a pretty solid job of pronunciation with EXCELLENT R rolls, trills, etc.) invading a space not made for me.

It’s a really complex topic, one that’s hard to fully articulate, which is what I’ve seen is a consistent thread in writings from mixed race individuals talking about their experiences. I’m friends with a surprisingly large amount of white passing Puerto Rican mixed race people and you’d think I’d talk about it more with them, but no. I probably should, but it’s a personal and somewhat intimate topic to just suddenly spring on people. For now though, I suppose I’m content to observe and appreciate Latin-X culture and people “from a distance” and amplify their voices as much as I can as a white passer.

[otherthingsinhead]

I Miss You

Pairing: Reader x Javier Peña

Warnings: mild language

Words: 2389

Request: Anonymous

Can you please write something about Javier Peña taking care of a little kid? Maybe babysitting for the Murphys when Olivia is a little older (toddler or preschool age, so that they can talk to each other). Or finding a little girl on the job and protecting her as a witness? Please please, I promise I'll comment on it! :)

Every time you stepped out from the kitchen your eyes flickered anxiously from face to face. It was Olivia’s birthday party and you knew that Steve invited Javier too. What you were unsure about was whether you were ready to see him again. 

It seemed he won’t make it. You heard he retired after he unveiled the connections behind the Cali cartel. He may have begun a whole new life in Texas and he is not at all interested in old friends.

Maybe you better never see him again, you thought as you walked to the table to pick up the dirty dishes when you heard the unmistakable, dark, warm-toned voice. Your heart jumped into your throat.

“Y/N?” Javier approached you with a wide smile on his face. He wore a bright shirt with jeans. His face was fuller, his mustache leaner than you remembered, but his eyes did not change anything.

“Javier.” You smiled back at him and let out the breath you had been holding.

“It’s so nice to see you. How are you?” He said biting his lips to contain his excitement.

“I’m good.” You nodded awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Nothing much going on. Just working a lot, so... I’m good. How are you?”

“I miss you.” He answered honestly and your eyes grew suddenly wide, and your breath caught in your throat. “Sorry, I... I didn’t want to...” He added, obviously embarrassed at the startled look on your face.

“No, umm... Javi, I...”

“Y/N, please! Could you help me with the sandwiches?” Connie yelled from across the room as she made her way to you. “Oh, hi Javi! I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thank you for asking me. I-uh... I brought something to Olivia.” Javier said, handing over a wrapped gift box. “It’s a unicorn-shaped purse. Steve said she likes horses, so... I-I don’t know if...”

“Oh, it’s perfect! She’s gonna love it. Thank you, Javi.”

“Sure.”

“Steve is on the porch with the guys. Grab a beer and join them!”

“Yeah. Thank you, Connie.”

He then briefly glanced at you and his lips curled into a forced smile to try and hide the fact just how miserable he felt. Then he nodded politely and disappeared behind the back door.

 Connie stared at you with a concerned expression on her face. She was your best friend since forever and she worried about you. Javier and you haven’t met since the breakup and she knew it’s gonna tear you up to see him again.

“Are you ok?”

You shrugged and a nervous chuckle escaped you before you shook your head, harshly biting your lip into your mouth to stop it from quivering.

“Oh, honey! What did he say?”

You breathed in and out twice, trying to quell your racing heart and gain control over your emotions.

“He said he misses me.” 

You assumed Connie was going to say something reassuring but she remained silent. Although, it was clear from her eyes what she thought.

“You still love him.” She said finally and tears began to well up in your eyes. Your chest hurt from holding back all the emotions that were mixing inside you but you had to be strong.

“I’m ok, Connie. I will be ok.”

“I’m sure you had the reason for leaving him but... Are you sure, he doesn’t deserve a second chance?”

A second chance. Your whole relationship was nothing more than a tide of debates and second chances. It wasn't about not being patient. For too long you had been fooling yourself with a relationship that never had a future. A relationship in which you were the third wheel.

“He doesn’t love me.” You answered faintly. However much time has passed since it still hurt to admit it.

“I don’t know. It looked like he does.”

“Exactly! It looked like!” You snapped. “He always said he misses me, needs me, wants me but he never said he loves me. We never talked about our future, as if it didn’t exist at all as if... we could live in the present forever. I...  You said but your voice choked on a sob.

“He never said he loves you?!” Connie frowned.

“Not... with words.” You said, thinking that apart from that he always made you feel loved. “Ugh, Connie! Do you think I made a mistake?”

“I don’t know, honey. Steve and I were sure if someone, you can tame him but... I guess he couldn’t appreciate what he had.”

 Steve had sort of an average life but it was everything Javier wished for himself. A loving wife, cute kids, a nice house with a backyard. Since he moved back to Texas he had been dreaming about this kind of life. A life with you, to be more specific.

He walked aimlessly around the house, smiling at the guests he barely knew and he realized he doesn’t belong there. They were husbands and wives and dads and moms, reminding him of the paths he could have but he didn't choose in his own life.

His thoughts were involuntarily wrapped around you. He thought it was his fate. To grow old alone. But sometimes he could think of nothing but what it would have been like if you had stayed together?

He was about to leave and wanted to say good-bye to you but as he walked towards the kitchen, a young woman stepped in front of him.

“Oh, thank god!” She whined and grabbed him by his shoulders. “I’m sorry sir, but I really need to leave right now. Would you please look after the children until I’m back?”

“No, no, no, no. I-I don’t, I...”

“It’ll be ok, just don’t let them kill each other. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” She yelled from the end of the corridor and disappeared.

“This is fucking great!” Javier muttered as he peeked through the opened door. There could be 10-12 little kids inside. Most of them played peacefully. He took a deep breath and stepped in.

“Hi kids!” He mumbled but no one even looked up at him so he looked for a chair, sat down and watched the kids drawing.

“Hi! My name is Ellie and I’m 5 years old.” A little girl with big blue eyes crept beside him. “Who are you?”

“Hi Ellie, I’m Javier. Do you need something or...”

“My boyfriend’s name is Javier too!” Ellie said causing Javier to furrow his brows in surprise.

“You have a boyfriend?” He asked.

“Uh-hum. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Um. No. No, I don’t have a girlfriend but...”

“Wife?”

“Nope.”

“I’ll be Javi’s wife and we’ll have thirty kids so we can play together.”

“Sounds like fun!” He said for lack of anything better to say. 

“Do you have kids?”

“Nah...” He chuckled softly.

“Don’t you like them?”

“Oh, it’s not like I... I do like kids, I just... Aren’t you too young to have a boyfriend?” He asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Aren’t you too old not to have a girlfriend?” She reposted folding her arms across her chest. The serious expression on her face was just as offensive as cute.

“Ouch. Well, Ellie, I-I had a girlfriend before but... she left me.” He replied and he seemed to drift away from her, into his own thoughts.

“Why?” Ellie asked, but in response, she only received a questioning hum. “Why did she leave you?” She repeated the question while bringing a piece of paper and a handful of pencils with her to settle down to Javier’s feet on the floor.

“Because... I wasn’t good enough for her.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I think I was afraid she wouldn’t be happy if she stayed with me.”

“Why?” 

“You know it’s...” Javier began then chuckled softly, shook his head and raked his fingers through his hair. She didn’t really care. 

He supposed to sit on his ass, watching a bunch of kids playing for ten minutes and now he found himself trying to have a serious conversation with a five years old girl.

“I broke up with Javi once.” Ellie said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Why?” Javier asked with a tightly controlled smile.

“He broke my dollhouse door and I cried. But he apologized and he drew me a rainbow-colored heart.”

“And you just forgave him?” 

Ellie shrugged her tiny shoulders and pursed her lips to one side as she replied:

“He said he loves me.”

 “Is that... Is that Javi? With the kids?” Connie asked, tilting her head and wearing a questioning look on her face as she stood in the doorway of the playroom.

“Javi?! With kids? I don’t think so.” You giggled but soon stopped once you stepped beside her to see what she saw.

It was Javier indeed, sitting at a small table with a handful of kids, working feverishly on a drawing. It was undeniable how captivating the sight was. Your heart melted and you couldn’t help but sigh, thinking you almost forgot how adorable he can be. However, the daydreaming came to a halt when you saw the quizzical expression on Connie’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged grinning then stepped inside the room. “Hey, kids! Who’s ready for the cake?” She said eliciting a wave of squeal from the children that shook the whole room.

The crowd quickly ran out, leaving the room empty. There was no one left but Javier and you.

“So... What are you doing here?” You smiled at him as he stood up from the table.

“I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He chuckled. “Can we talk?” He asked and you couldn’t help but notice the excitement in his eyes. 

You agreed and he smiled then picked up a piece of paper from the table.

“What’s this?” You asked as he handed it to you.

“I made it for you.”

“You made it?!” You said in astonishment.

“Except for the rainbow. It was Ellie.”

“I like the horse. It’s cute.”

“Um... yeah. That’s a dog.”

“Oh, sorry. The mane deceived me.”

“That’s-that’s not... whatever, just... open it!” He said and you didn’t know why but your heart began thumping and pounding like crazy in your chest.

You did as you were told and started to read:

                         I love you. Please, give me a chance to prove it.

The words on the paper blurred in front of you as tears sprang into your eyes. A whirl of dizziness caught you and a hot rush of chaos spread through your chest. You needed to breathe.

“I love you. I still love you.” His words came out like a soft whisper and felt like cold rain to parched soil. You gave him a quick glance, but as if you were paralyzed, no word came out of your throat.

“I know it was all my fault. You always said I was married to my work and that you were nothing but my mistress but... You were my life, Y/N... I just wanted to protect you, to keep you safe.” He explained moving closer to you and carefully touching your elbows with his fingers. “It was a mistake. Not letting you close and now I know and... and you have no idea how much I hate myself for letting you go, but... Please, Y/N!” He said, his palms slowly slid from your elbows to your shoulders as he leaned closer to your face to look into your eyes. “Please, forgive me and please, come back to me.”

Javier's confession came unexpectedly. Not only because it happened quite suddenly, but also because it revealed a side of him that he had carefully hidden from the world. It was time to make a decision.

“I miss you too, Javi.” You blurted out finally and it felt as if your darkest, deepest secret had now lifted from your chest like a light balloon. Javier’s heart stopped for a moment and you could see as a glint of hope rising in his eyes. “But we can’t just pick up where we left off.”

“I know...” He smiled, reaching for your face to cup it in his hands. “I was thinking if maybe we could start with a date or something.”

“A date?”

“Yes, and-and then...” He paused as if to be sure you were listening to what he was about to say. “I moved back to my father. It’s not as fancy as this house but... it has beautiful land around it and...”

“You want me to move in with you?” You asked, looking at him in bewilderment. He seemed nervous, or rather excited.

“O-or we can move to the city or anywhere, I don’t care. I just wanna be with you.”

“I want that too.” You murmured, covering his hands with your own no longer struggling to hold back your tears.

“Really?”

“Yes.” You sobbed, wiping the wetness from your cheeks. “Yes, but there is so much we need to discuss first.”

“I know. I... I’m not gonna make the same mistake again.” He said and hugged you tightly causing a wave of warm, tingling sensation to wreck your entire body.

“A date sounds good for a first step.”

“How about a kiss?” He mumbled, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

“We shouldn't rush this thing.” You scolded him softly and pulled away from his arms.

“Right! I’m sorry, we shou...” He apologized but couldn’t finish as your mouth caught his in a kiss. 

His soft, tender lips felt sweet upon your mouth and you couldn’t stop yourself from gliding your fingers into his hair, inducing a stifled a groan from him.

“I thought you wanna keep it slow.” He said, staring at you in puppy-eyed innocence.

“And you believed this?” You frowned at him with a mischevious look in your eyes.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I won’t lose you again.” He muttered softly, narrowing his eyes at you to prove just how serious he was.

“I believe you.” You beamed at him knowing for sure that he was willing to do whatever it took to make your relationship work this time.

“However... It still hurts that you mistook my dog for a horse.” He pouted and took the drawing in his hand to study.

“Why did you draw a mane on him?”

“Those are ears.”

“On his neck?!”

MASTERLIST