#i was in favor of throwing this man out before they started dating but like whatever.

[stinkbeck]

guy called someone i know a prostitute last night + he’s dating my friend + he has this whole soft boy persona and like… OW! that girl’s not all that fun 2 hang around with, but she’s clearly going through some shit?? and to call her SO CASUALLY a prostitute while we’re just bitching about how she uses people..? what the hell man. like FIRST he brought up how she’s probably got a shitton of stds and we didn’t acknowledge him and then he told the other guy in our group that she’s basically just a prostitute at this point… like fucking CHRIST! you can’t get away from this shit! miserable little boy. you’re not much to be speaking so highly.

[miriellesandthegiantpeach]

A Conversation | Rewrite of 8x06 Bucktommy

“You’d end up breaking my heart. And I - I don’t think I can deal with that,” Tommy looks to the ceiling, feeling the tears well at the bottom of his eyes. He blinks and looks at Buck. His brows are furrowed; his face is a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Tommy swallows, “I should go,” he whispers and heaves himself off the chair.

This can’t be happening. How did this go downhill so fast?

Buck is quick to get up and grab Tommy’s wrist as he turns his back. “Whoa whoa. Hey, what’s going on right now? What just happened? Sit back down,” Buck gently commands and pulls Tommy back to the stool and scoots his own closer so their knees are interlocked. ”This sounds a lot like a break up.”

Tommy sniffles, “it’s for the best, Evan.”

“For who? We’re happy. We have a great thing here and you want to throw it away? How does that make sense?”

”You’re not seeing me for who I am. The guy you admire? The one that ‘paved the way’ is not me. Never was,” Tommy explains.

”Okay,” Buck says and he can see where he put Tommy on a pedestal. “I’m sorry I made you out to be this gay mentor for me to idolize. You’re not. You’re my boyfriend. I still admire my boyfriend. I still think you’re confident and capable.”

”I never felt confident, I’m always feeling like a fraud.”

Buck takes a moment to let Tommy breathe, he takes Tommy’s hands in his and holds on tight. “You are confident. It takes confidence to fly like you do, to come out in his line of work, to kiss a guy who didn’t even know about his own bisexuality,” Buck laughs. “Honey, sorry to break it to you, but you are confident.”

“But this isn’t about me,” Tommy says.

”Isn’t it though? You self sabotaging in some weird way of protecting yourself,” Buck says, trying to tamp down his frustration.

Tommy looks struck, he looks like he’s about to bolt out the door. Buck hit the exact wrong nerve. “Because I’ve been there. I’ve been through it more than once. With you it’s different. You actually give me hope for a future, but if it ends, like it inevitably will, it’s going to destroy me.”

“So that’s it, huh? You just get to decide our fate and walk out of my life?” Buck asks and takes a deep breath. He can sympathize with Tommy in some sense; he felt that fear of heartbreak when he started dating again after Abby. “And you know, this isn’t my first relationship. It’s not even my first serious relationship.”

“But it’s your first with a man,” Tommy tries, but Buck scoffs.

“Why should that matter?” Buck’s voice gets low and intimate. He leans even further into Tommy’s space trying to catch his eyes. “Tommy. Why do you get to decide something that I feel? I can even say I’ve been in love before. But it wasn’t like this.” Tommy’s breath hitches. “With you, it’s easy. Easiest it’s ever been. And that’s not something I’m willing to give up on. I love you. And I’m sorry I jumped the gun asking you to move in before saying that. I don’t love you because this is my first queer relationship. I love you because you’re you. I love your patience, your attentiveness, your dry humor, your warmth, your heart. There are a lot of reasons that don’t have to do with your gender. Although I do love your rugged face and your dick,” Buck adds with a laugh and that makes Tommy smile. “If I had to bet I’d say you love me too.”

Tommy nods and breathes deep then ducks his head, focusing on Buck’s hands holding his. “I do. I’m just so scared.”

A tear falls down Tommy’s cheek and Buck reaches up to catch it on his thumb. He cups Tommy’s stubbled jaw and caresses his cheek. “Why are you breaking your own heart, baby?” Buck whispers. That makes more tears spill out. Tommy really wishes he knew.

“Can we take a step back? No moving in, no Mach speed. I can slow down. Is that what you need?”

“I-I don’t know,” Tommy says shakily. “It would help I think.”

“Okay. Then we do that. We take our time. But please do me a favor?” Tommy meets Buck’s earnest eyes with still tearful ones. “You have to trust me with your heart. We’re in this together. I’m scared too and just as invested.”

“I’ll try,” Tommy promises. “I love you.”

A beaming smile threatens to split Buck’s face in two and pulls Tommy in for a deep kiss. He stands up, still connected to Tommy’s mouth as both hands move to land on either side of his neck. They kiss like that for a few minutes with Buck standing as close as possible in between Tommy’s spread knees and bent over at an awkward angle to keep kissing him.

“I think we should skip the movie, we’re late anyway,” Buck says against Tommy’s lips. “I’m gonna take you upstairs and get you out of your head.”

“Okay,” Tommy agrees and makes a mental note of trusting that Buck knows what’s best for him. How lucky is he?

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four Five

“So Steve, I know you said that you don’t think you need anyone...” Eddie sighs, “do you think that implies that I think that what he thinks is wrong?”

“I think it implies you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

Eddie doesn’t even have the energy to glare at Dustin, it’s much easier to just pretend he hasn’t spoken, “okay, Steve-”

“Yeap, you’re really strong on establishing you know the guys name, which is like, a solid point in your favor.”

“I hate you,” Eddie says to the ceiling, neck at an odd angle where he’s flopped his head back over the arm of the couch, “so, Steve, I know you said you don’t need anyone, and you are totally right-”

“You’re a strong independent Omega who don’t need no Alpha!”

“So help me Henderson I will throw you out,” Eddie waits, but Dustin is finally silent on the matter, “Steve. I totally respect the fact that you are absolutely fine handling everything alone, and if you’re...happy with us, being friends, then I’m happy with that too. I did wonder, though, if you’d like to go on a date. With me. Maybe?” Eddie sighs, flopping his arms over his face, “I’m so bad at this. This is going to go so wrong and he’s going to hate me and never want to see me again and-”

“Eddie...has the Omega broken your brain? What the fuck is wrong with you man-”

“I don’t know! I don’t...I’ve literally never felt this way before, not about anyone. And Jamie, man, I know he’s not my pup, okay, Steve and I aren't dating, he’s literally my friends pup, that’s it but...I swear I would die for that kid, no question.”

“Okay...so just...ask him out? Steve I mean, not Jamie-”

Eddie huffs, “I don’t...I’m pretty sure I can’t. The more I think about it the more it feels...like Steve’s had a pretty bad run of Alphas, it sounds like, and I just don’t think he’d be interested. And he’s just literally had a pup, like Jamie is only just a month old, who am I to add to that, you know? Steve’s got enough to think about.”

“So...don’t ask him out?”

Eddie flops over onto his side, curling up so he can smush his face into the cushions, “but I really want to. I think it’s selfish though. I’m being selfish. I should just...be a good friend. Keep being a good friend.”

“And pine to death?”

“I mean. Seems like a reasonable way out.”

“Dude I do not know what to say to you,” the timer on the oven starts to buzz, “but at least you’re going to feed me, right?”

Eddie sighs, dragging himself out of the near suffocating safety of the gap in the couch cushions. He opens his message thread with Steve, scrolling back through the shared memes and screenshots and pictures. He reads little tidbits of conversation while he pulls out bowls and plates. The three dots appear, Eddie’s heart leaps a little because Steve is, right there. Right next door, with his phone in his hand, typing to Eddie.

‘I’d love some. I’ve made a banana cream pie if you want to take it back for your games night.’

Eddie sends back a shocked emoji, ‘I can’t take an entire pie.’

‘You won’t, my slice will be gone.’

Eddie smiles and slips his phone into his pocket. He slices two thick pieces of bread from the loaf he made this afternoon, wraps them, and then fills a bowl with casserole. Eddie’s pretty sure this bowl is Steve’s anyway; so many of their plates and bowls have been migrating back and forth it’s hard to tell any more, between Eddie’s dinners and Steve’s desserts.

He likes to bake something extra special for games nights though, he always says you can’t make just one cookie, or one slice of pie. He likes to make sweet things when he knows there will be people to give it to, otherwise, “I’ll just eat the whole thing Eddie!”

Eddie doesn’t see a problem with eating the whole thing, but he slips on his adventure crocs and heads out into the hall. Dustin doesn’t even tease too badly any more, even though Eddie’s sure it’s because he’s threatened to withhold Steve’s desserts.

Eddie knocks with the hand holding the bread, letting himself in when Steve calls, “it’s open!”

“Hey Steve, hey Jamie,” he sets Steve’s dinner on the little table, next to the juice and cutlery Steve’s already set out for himself.

“What do you have planned for them tonight?” Steve brings out a pie on a plate, a slice already gone, just like he said. It has real neat swirls of cream on top; it looks professional to Eddie, like you’d buy in a store.

“Destruction. Misery. Suffering. The usual.”

Steve hums, “uh hu. What color salad did you decide on in the end?”

Eddie sighs, “you say it Slaad. And I don’t know, what do you think?”

“I actually quite liked the idea for the dog shark thing, it was cute,” Steve hands over the pie, going on tip toes to kiss Eddie on the cheek as he hands it over.

“One home brew Bulette, coming right up,” Eddie replies absently. He’s pretty sure he’s gone at least a little pink, and Steve’s scent is fresh and bright in his nose for a moment, “I’d better…” Eddie gestures lamely with the pie, “you know.”

“Have fun!” Steve calls as Eddie lets himself out, “don’t go too hard on them!”

Eddie’s doing his best not too stare, he really is.

He has one foot on the stroller, rolling it gently back and forward. He has his guitar resting on the other knee, he strums, singing quietly to Jamie, “I'd rather be a forest than a street, yes, I would...if I could, I surely would.” Jamie burbles at him, waving his arms a little and making happy pup noises.

On the court, Steve laughs, and Eddie fails, and he looks. Steve’s wearing a tank top and those obscenely short shorts. Him and Chrissy are bouncing the ball at each other, catching it, doing a squat, a little jump, and bouncing it back. They’ve done all sorts of stuff like this, sweaty jock games. Steve’s short shorts riding up even further at the slightest provocation.

Jamie makes a noise, drawing Eddie’s attention back, “I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet, yes, I would...if I could, I surely would,” Eddie sings, soft and slow.

Steve and Chrissy come over eventually, Steve lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe at his sweaty face, fully showing Eddie his tummy in all it’s glory. It’s thick, but firm, decorated by a handful of stretch marks and a perfect dusting of happy trail, “thanks for keeping an eye.”

“Huh?” Eddie asks, feeling kind of dumb but still managing to strum along on auto pilot.

Next to him, Chrissy snickers around her water bottle.

“Thank you, for watching Jamie,” Steve says to him more slowly, smirking, his sweaty hair flopping across his forehead.

“Right, right, sure, of course. Anytime. Pleasure. Really.”

Next to him, Chrissy huffs. Eddie pointedly ignores it.

The knocking is awful. It’s relentless. It’s obnoxious. It’s definitely Robin.

“I know you’re in there!”

Yeap. Yeap that’s definitely Robin. Eddie groans into the couch cushion before dragging himself up. She’s speaking before he has the door fully open, “this is getting old.”

“And what might that be-”

Robin puts on the most obnoxious voice Eddie thinks he’s ever heard, she clasps her hands together, holding them to her chest and she bats her lashes coquettishly at the ceiling, “oh Eddie’s cooking is just the best ever. Did you know he plays guitar! He says he’ll teach Jamie when he’s old enough! And he’s so smart, he’s got so many books in his apartment-”

“Okay.”

“Did you know he’s artistic! He paints his little dungeon game miniatures and they’re so good-”

“All right.”

“You should just see him with Jamie-”

“Robin.”

“And he’s such a good Alpha! He’s so good to his friends, he puts in so much work-”

“And we are done,” Eddie goes to shut the door. He can’t handle this. He knows Robin probably means well, in her own meddling way, but he just...can’t. This has to be Steve’s choice, right? Steve’s been pretty clear why he went it alone, and Robin is just...teasing him. It makes Eddie feel all warm and bubbly inside, knowing that Steve says these things about him, that Steve...likes him. But...Steve has a pup, and just because he says these things behind closed doors, it doesn’t mean Eddie has any right to know them.

No matter how it makes him feel.

“Wait wait wait...can’t you just, ask him out? End all of our suffering?”

Eddie sighs, “Steve has enough going on without me making it more complicated, okay? Steve can...he’s perfectly capable of telling me this himself.”

“No he isn’t. Because Steve would never ask you to take on another Alpha’s pup.”

“He’s not another Alpha’s pup, he’s Steve’s pup,” Eddie tells her reflexively.

“Uh hu,” she has her hands on her hips now, looking at him expectantly.

Eddie swallows thickly, and he can’t quite look at Robin, “what if...what if I loose him?”

“You won’t. You know you won’t.”

“But-”

“Me and Chrissy are taking Jamie for the night, did you know that? Giving Steve a night off, and we’re getting some practice in for when we’re ready to have our own, you know?”

“I...did not know that.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie stands for a second, not sure what to say, down the hall, Steve’s door opens.

“-and it’s in the changing bag.”

“I got it.”

“Don’t forget to heat the formula to-”

“Steve,” Chrissy sounds exasperated, “we’ve got it,” she has Jamie in his car seat.

“Plus,” Robin whispers to him conspiratorially, “he’s going to have a heat at some point, so we gotta be ready for that. You know, wouldn’t be fair to which ever Alpha ends up helping him out-”

“I know what you’re doing,” Eddie growls, watching Steve fuss over the pup.

“Is it working?”

“Go away.”

Robin shrugs, and Eddie watches as she goes to Chrissy, taking the bag so Chrissy is just left with the car seat, “it’s going to be fine, and you can call us any time.”

Eddie ends up watching Steve, as Steve watches his pup and his friends disappear at the end of the hall. His shoulder sag a little, and Eddie can't help but go to him.

“Hey.”

Steve sighs, “would it be weird if we followed them?”

“Maybe. I’ll drive though.”

Steve smiles up at him, and it looks kind of watery, “what if we break into their place and take him back?”

Eddie shrugs, “pretty sure we could just ask but, whatever makes you feel better, I guess.”

Steve sighs, “I sound crazy,” and a tear finally escapes, sliding down his cheek.

Eddie can’t help but scoop him up into a big hug, “I think you sound like the best dad in the world. I’ll get you one of those mugs. You know, for fathers day.”

Steve sighs, and sniffles, “thanks Eddie.”

“You want take out? I’ve primed you a miniature, if you still want to try your hand.”

“Can we watch a shit film too?”

“Oh fuck me I’d love to watch a shit film,” Eddie says vehemently into Steve’s hair.

Steve laughs against his chest.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to try painting his owlbear tonight; he picks forlornly at his duck rolls, “I’m sorry I���m not very good company.”

“It’s okay, I get it...I miss him too.”

“Oh, so you admit I’m being shit company?” Steve smiles for the first time this evening.

“Oh, yeah, the absolute worst.”

Steve phone pings and he practically dives for it, but then he melts, face going soft as he looks at the message, “Jamie’s asleep,” he shows Eddie the picture.

“Safe and sound,” Eddie reassures Steve for probably the fifteenth time this evening.

“I didn’t...I mean I knew I’d love my pup but...I didn’t know it would feel like this, you know? It feels crazy. And I mean...Jamie’s happy, and healthy, and that just makes absolutely everything feel...right? Does that make sense? Like...fulfilled.”

“I...yeah. I think I understand,” Eddie tells him quietly, because he feels like that about the both of them, as long as Steve, and by extension, Jamie, are both happy and healthy then...yeah. Yeah, the whole world feels like it’s an okay place to be.

“Eddie I-”

“Steve-”

They speak over each other, and end up laughing, leaning closer together on the couch. The remains of Steve’s half eaten dinner get moved to the safety of the coffee table. They’re close enough then that Eddie can see the dim light from the TV reflecting in Steve’s eyes.

“You go,” Eddie whispers to him.

Steve shakes his head, but takes Eddie’s hand in both of his, rubbing his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles, Steve whispers back, “you first.”

“I...I really like having you in my life Steve. And I don’t want to...to fuck that up, by expecting more from you.”

“I...yeah. Same.”

“Same?” It comes out as a surprised laugh.

Steve’s laughing too now, “what do you want me to say I mean...you pretty much covered it.”

“I have spent ages agonizing over this and and and- all I get is- yeah. Same. I guess. I suppose.”

Steve is properly laughing now, “come here, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he pulls Eddie close, and manages to stop laughing long enough to kiss his cheek, “okay,” Steve takes a deep breath, “I’ve just had a pup, and both me and that pup care about you so very much, and I did not want to mess it up by expecting you to take that on, okay?”

“You’re not a chore Steve, neither of you are a chore.”

“I mean he was sick on me the other day and that kind of felt-”

Eddie cuts him off with a kiss. It’s soft, a gentle press of lips that Steve...sighs into. Relaxes into. Lets Eddie take both their weight. Steve’s hands find their way into Eddie’s hair as Eddie gently wets Steve’s lip, and Steve lets him in.

It feels like coming home.

[zvdvdlvr]

Okay but hear me out Hotch's love language is acts of service. That man is a caregiver and maybe I'm projecting because I'm currently taking care of my own stitches but like if you were hurt in the field and got cut by a knife or something he would absolutely go out of his way to clean your wound and rebandage you as needed. Or like if you burnt your hand grabbing a hot pan or something while you guys were making dinner 🥲 he's just so soft

Yes. Absolutely. This is literally him.

Aaron’s always gonna blame himself, no matter if it really is his fault or not; so taking care of you in any way, shape, or form is always gonna be an opportunity Aaron will take.

Even if you aren’t dating Aaron still wants to help patch you up because thats just the kinda guy he is :))

im giggling thinking about being in a relationship woth Hotch and him sitting you down to rewrap a bandage, put vaseline or aquaphor on your stitches, or even putting ointment on a burn.

Boyfriend!Hotch fawning over tou after you burn yourself making dinner for you, him, and Jack!!!!!!! He would undoubtedly drop everything and run over after hearing you hiss in pain and cuss quietly (he admires how you try not to cuss in fromt of Jack). “Oh, honey,” he’d coo and pull you over to the sink. I NEED HIM TO CALL ME ‘HONEY’, YOUR HONOR.

Can you imagine him kissing the bandage too after you cracked a joke about him kissing Jack’s boo-boos?? 😥😥 i actually need him.

OKOKOKOK

imagine you just got cut by an unsub:

It wasn’t Hotch’s fault, no matter how much you tried to reassure him as the medics stitched up the admittedly deep cut on your thigh.

The unsub, you tried to reason with him, was just a hunter with very good aim and a warped mind. But Hotch wouldn’t have it. He literally wrapped your arm over his shoulder so he could walk you out to the medics, paced on the ground outside the ambulance, and refused to let you drive to the plane and hotel without him.

So that’s where you are now: opening your door for Hotch and Jack to enter your house.

“Hi, y/n!” Jack greeted, throwing himself out to hug y/n’s legs. You patted his back and ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey kiddo,” you greeted, trying to hide the wince on your face before Aaron saw.

But he did. “I, uh, told Jack you got hurt and he… decided he would throw a fit until he came to make sure you weren’t sad.”

That made you smile; yeah, Hotch, blamd it on Jack. “You’re the sweetest, Jackie-boy. No way any one could be sad around you,” you practically sang, picking the boy up. “Come in, Hotch. I see that first-aid kit you have.”

Hotch pretended not to see the way you favored your uninjured leg over the other when you set Jack on the couch, already knowing what movie he wanted to watch.

“Hey,” you said finally, “Jack’s watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier.” You took a seat at the table.

“He was excited about coming to see you,” Aaron admits. “He told me that you’re his favorite because you ‘like Captain America, always have candy, and make sure he’s never sad’, according to him.”

You laugh a little, but your heart is swollen up in your chest like a balloon. You’re Jack’s favorite? “So… tell me why you’re really here, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

You pause, seeing Hotch’s eye contact falter. “What?”

“You can call me Aaron. We aren’t at the office, so I don’t see a problem in you calling me Aaron. And my son is on your couch, so…” He trails off, a smile pulling at his lips.

You think you can feel little a butterfly volcano erupt in your stomach. You’re hot boss is smiling at you. Inside your house. “So,” you start again, voice quieter this time, “why are you here, Aaron?” You want to scream. Hotch’s name on your tongue felt foreign but you really wanted to get used to calling him by his first name.

“I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself after getting,” he paused, thinking of the blood staining your pants when he first saw you, “cut up by the unsub.”

“If you want me to take my pants off, you just have to ask,” you scoffed, tugging down your sweatpants to reveal a bloodied bandage wrapped in gauze. Your shirt was oversized, falling to just above the end of the gauze. “I changed the wrap a couple hours ago, but I got bored and moved some stuff around and it probably started bleeding,” you explained, watching Aaron pull set your leg on the chair he was sitting in to rewrap your injury.

“Y-This is okay?” He asked, large hands hovering directly over your skin.

After nodding, you swallowed as you watched Aaron carefully unwrapped the thin gauze and inspected the dark red patterns staining the bandage.

He doesn’t say a word as he rips the bandage off, not saying a word when he feels your hand fly to his shoulder for support- something that makes him flush a little.

“Aaron, I can do it mysel-“

“Let me take care of you,” he interrupts, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes that he does so well and you know you’d listen to him if he told you to rip your heart out of your chest and give it to him just because he’s got you wrapped around his pinkie.

“Okay.”

Despite the movie in the background, you both fall into silence; afraid to break the silence.

He had to admit, Aaron hadn’t felt so giddy in a while. Even here, on his knees in your home, Aaron found himself once again questioning if he wanted to make a move. He felt you squeeze his shoulder a little as he dabbed some cold ointment on the stitches but he wanted to feel your hands on him. Rewrapping the bandage would be the awkward part: having to get his hands very close to your sex.

“Do you want to do it?” Aaron asked.

“I think you should. I might mess it up or something,” you shrug, clearly lying. But Aaron wanted you to lie.

So carefully, gingerly, Aaron wrapped the guaze over the bandage, hands gliding over your thigh to make sure the thin material would stay.

“Done,” he announced. “Does it feel okay? Not too tight? Too loose?” He asked.

“Perfect.”

He looked up at you. “y/n?”

“I think… my thigh’s a little sore. You uh, might need to kiss my boo-boo to make sure I feel better.”

A sly smile grew on Aaron’s face while he watched your face turn red and you avoiding eye contact.

So Aaron leaned over and pressed his lips to the sterile gauze, kissing the material covering your skin.

The butterfly volcano had successfully self destructed, making every body part possible buzz at the sight of Aaron leaning over you.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Will Halstead x Reader

Angel would be the furthest word that would pop into your mind to describe yourself but to Will? It's the first one he can think of when it comes to you.

Relationships didn’t really last for Will. Hell his relationship with his own brother had been rocky for years to say the least. How the hell was he supposed to have a romantic relationship? He settled for not looking. Of course when you rolled into med, the new trauma doc to replace Connor he noticed that you were gorgeous. Who wouldn’t? He noticed that you were kind with patients who needed it but had a fierce streak when someone pushed you far enough. 

An easy friendship started to form between the two of you. You were easy to talk to, smart as hell, quick to throw a come back at just about anything and could make anyone feel at ease around you. You started breaking down walls he never realized you were chiseling away at until they crumbled to dust. He didn’t know why you chose to spend so much time with him. While you were at work you stuck close to his side unless a case separated the two of you, after work most days the two of you found some excuse to spend more time together.

You kept him on his toes in the best of ways because he never knew what you were going to come up with next. You were the biggest breath of air he had ever experienced in his life. 

Will was standing at the front desk talking to Maggie when he heard Jay’s voice and turned to see his brother walking in the door of med. “Jay? What are you doing here? You aren’t hurt are you?”  Jay laughed “No, I kinda want to meet this new doctor that you spend all your free time with”  

He shook his head “No, leave” he should have known better than ever mentioning you to Jay. He’d been on Will for too long about how long it’d been since he dated anyone so now he was dead set on meeting you, so far Will had managed to intervene four different times but this one didn’t seem to be in his favor because just as it seemed he was going to talk his brother into leaving he heard your voice “Halstead!”

Jay grinned as they both turned to face you. Your eyes widened before you grinned “You’re Jay! Will’s brother” Jay nodded and held his hand out “Nice to meet you sweetheart” you shook his hand but winked at him “Nice to meet ya but easy on the sweetheart stuff detective” he grinned “Yes ma’am” and you nodded “Who knew both Halsteads know how to talk to a woman” then you looked them both over “Good genes too, though I gotta admit I like redheads better” before walking away.

Jay held it together until you got out of earshot then started laughing and slapped Will across the chest “Forget asking her out, ask her to marry you. There isn’t a woman more perfect for you man. She’s it” Will was too busy watching you walk away with a grin on his face. He did indeed plan on asking you out, now that he knew for certain you felt the same way he did.

You walked out of trauma one, stripping your gloves off and tossing them. You needed water or something. You glanced around and spotted Will coming out of a room across the way and smiled at him. The two of you had been official for about a month now. You were still keeping it low key at work but you were happy. You enjoyed having him as a friend but Will as a boyfriend was an entirely different story.

He hadn’t known you and Jay talked. He was worried about messing things up with you, about you leaving him. He didn’t have to worry about that. You’d fallen for the elder Halstead within a couple weeks of knowing him,not that you’d told him that yet. You would tell him in time but for now this was nice, he was everything you wanted. Handsome, sweet, smart even if he was goofy as hell at times too and the relationship he now had with Jay? Those two had fought hard to build and you loved seeing it.

As long as Will wanted you by his side you didn’t plan on going anywhere.

Will watched you dancing with Jay at Mollys and couldn’t stop the smile from slipping across his face. Somehow you’d talked his brother into letting you lead and the sight was nothing short of hilarious. He’d never felt like this about anyone. You could have anyone yet you chose him. You never let him get in his head and you always let him know you loved him. 

You would fall asleep before he came to bed some nights but the moment he laid down you would move around in your sleep until you were touching him. At work you’d always look for him after a bad case, just for reassurance and after a good case because you wanted to celebrate for a second. You taught him to enjoy small things again. You taught him that you could mess up and still be forgiven, still be worthy of that forgiveness.

Your laughter hit his ears as you dipped Jay causing everyone to clap and Jay to shake his head and in turn dip you. Things like that. You could make everyone’s night better just by having the nerve to do something as insane as sweet talking your boyfriend’s brother into dancing because you made a bet with Herrman that you could. 

“Hey handsome, come here often?” you said as you and Jay made your way back over to the table where he sat and you slid into his lap. He put an arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to your neck “Only when my girlfriend drags me out” your eyes widened “Oh shoot you got a girlfriend, is it serious?” he grinned “Afraid so. Love of my life and all that” you grinned up at him as Jay made a gagging noise. When you both glared at him he shrugged “I’m sorry you two are adorable but I need a stronger drink after witnessing that” and walked off.

Will shook his head and turned back to you “I love you” he said before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. You smiled against his mouth before saying “I love you too Will”

[ladytauria]

things unspoken (now said)

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Rating: Teen Words: 19k Warnings: None

When Dick asks for help with a case, Jason and Tim find themselves undercover as a couple to lure a killer out of hiding.

This is fine. Except for one problem…

They broke up two months ago, after no one knew they were dating in the first place.

written for the red on red holidays event! this one’s been up for a couple of days but authors were just revealed today <3

>> AO3 <<

“I am so sorry.”

Jason’s hand is still clutching Tim’s, a little too tightly to be comfortable. Tim still doesn’t make any effort to pull away. He’s pathetic like that.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jason says immediately. His other hand is braced around the elbow of the man who just crashed into him, keeping him from sprawling to the floor. The man’s coffee wasn’t so lucky. Most of it is splattered over the front of Jason’s sweater, though some also landed on the floor and the other man’s jacket. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says, shaking his head and stepping away. It lets Tim get a better look at him. The man is taller than he is, though not as tall as Jason. His face is rather plain—the kind of face that Tim’s eyes could just skip right over, if not for the fact he’s spent the last several days studying it intently.

This is Alexander Miller, avid skier and one of two suspects in the case he’s currently working with Jason.

It says something about his life that this isn’t the first time he’s had to pretend to be happily in love with his ex. What, exactly, it says, he’s not sure—except maybe that he needs to stop giving in when Dick asks him for favors.

Not that Dick knew what he was asking. He was under the impression, as was the rest of the world, that Tim and Jason had never been anything more than just friends.

“Your shirt—”

Jason glances down and grimaces. The coffee is already sinking into the fabric, turning what was a nice off-white into something more beige. Tim reluctantly disentangles his fingers from Jason to pat himself down for napkins.

Alexander beats him to it. He fishes a brown paper bag off of the floor and pulls a wad of napkins out, holding them out. “Here, maybe these will help.”

“Thanks,” Jason says, pulling his sweater taut to dab at the stain. “Sorry ‘bout your coffee.”

Tim kneels. He knows he packed some wipes in his carry on—and if he can’t find them, then he’s sure there will be some in Jason’s.

“No, don’t apologize,” Miller says as he kneels again. This time to retrieve his cup and throw it in the bag the napkins had come from. He uses the napkins that had been wrapped around it to mop up the spill as best he can—there aren’t enough to do the job properly, though, and streaks are left behind. “I should have been paying more attention to where I was going. I hope I didn’t ruin your sweater.”

A-ha! Tim finds the wipes where he’d stuffed them and zips his bag up again. He bats Jason’s hand away so he can scrub at the front of his shirt. As soon as he starts, a wave of regret hits him.

This is the closest he’s been to him in… nearly two months. The scent of coffee nearly overpowers that of Jason’s aftershave… but even that much of a whiff of it makes his throat feel tight, his eyes burning.

Not now, Drake. You have a job to do.

He doesn’t have much confidence in his ability to repress his feelings this time. Jason’s presence has a way of eroding all of his self-control.

“Nah, it’ll come out in the wash,” Jason says. “Little cold water and some spot treatment will take care of this no problem—right, baby?”

Tim glances up and finds Jason looking at him—the expression on his face is so soft it makes him ache. He makes himself smile back. He can tell Jason sees the tension in it because for just a moment, a muscle tics in his jaw before it relaxes again.

“Right,” he says.

Tim thinks he’s done as much as he can for the stain now—the fabric is damp with both coffee and the cleaning solution in the wipes. There will be no telling what the damage actually is until it’s had time to dry.

He glances up at Jason again, grimacing slightly. Sorry. Think that’s the best it’s going to get.

Jason’s shoulder twitches; a brief facsimile of a shrug. It is what it is. I’ll deal with it later.

Tim steps back. Alexander holds the paper bag out, allowing Tim and Jason to throw the used napkins and wipes away before he crumples the end.

“This place is busier than I expected,” Alexander says, scanning the area. They’re waiting for a tram to arrive to take them up to the ski lodge, which is about halfway up the mountain. “I thought for sure it would be quieter this year.”

“Oh?” Tim asks. Jason’s fingers tangle with his again. He steps closer to him, until their arms are brushing. It feels so natural it takes Tim a moment to remember why it shouldn’t be. Jason’s thumb strokes over his knuckles, and Tim aches.

It’s unfair. Something should have changed, after everything—but if anything it feels like it’s even easier now than it ever was before. Tim remembers sweaty palms and too-tight grips as they fumbled through the most innocent of romantic gestures.

He supposes, somewhere along the way, they must have finally gotten it right.

Alexander’s mouth tightens so briefly Tim almost misses it. “Ah—I don’t suppose either of you have looked into the local news then.” He laughs uncomfortably.

“No. Our flight just got in an hour or so ago,” Jason says. “Did something happen?”

This time, Alexander doesn’t bother suppressing his grimace. “Not recently.” He pushes his hand through his hair as he shifts uncomfortably. “Look—the last thing I want to do is put a damper on your holiday, but—well. I suppose you ought to know. A few months ago, they found a body in the forest around the lodge.”

Interesting.

Not the fact itself—that Tim knew. It’s the language he can’t help picking apart. ‘They found a body’ and not ‘someone was murdered.’ But even more importantly: Alexander only mentions one, and not that this is one in a series of four murders taking place over a period of about three years.

Of course, his cover doesn’t know that, so his eyes widen in artificial surprise. “That’s horrible. Was it an accident?”

Alexander shakes his head mutely.

“Did they catch the one who did it?” Jason asks, using his grip on Tim’s hand to draw him in closer.

Tim’s heartbeat quickens in his chest.

“No.” Alexander doesn’t elaborate further. Tim supposes he doesn’t blame him—he’s not sure he would want to confess to a pair of strangers that he was a suspect in a murder case either.

The ski lodge is far enough away from Gotham that normally, the murders wouldn’t have attracted their attention… if it weren’t for Dick. Or, rather, Richie Grayson. He came up with a group of civilian friends—or, well, ‘friends’—and learned of the murder through happenstance. Obviously, he couldn’t resist digging deeper.

He’d found that this murder was one of four, which have taken place over a period of about three years. All of the victims had been vacationing at the lodge before their bodies were found in the surrounding pines. Two of the victims had been men, the other two were women. They worked different jobs, lived in different places, and had little in common physically. However, all of them had been in relationships at the time of visiting the lodge, and all four couples had been seen spending time with Mikayla Vaughn, ski teacher, and Alexander Miller, hobbyist skier.

There had been another name, too—Jack Manning, a bartender at the Lodge. He had been investigated in connection to murder number three after he’d been seen arguing with the victim. However, while he was in custody, a few weeks before his trial date, the fourth murder had been committed.

It was more brutal than the previous three, and unlike the others, it had taken place during the off season.

The case against Jack had been dropped—for now—and he’d been released. He had not come back to work at the Lodge.

Given the sloppiness of the last kill, and the break in pattern, Dick believes that the killer is going to strike again soon. Being otherwise occupied, though, there’s not much he can do to investigate.

So… he’d called Tim and Jason in to help instead.

Alexander seems to shake himself. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” His face smooths into an apologetic smile. “Look, why don’t you let me make things up to you? I’m heading up to the lodge to grab drinks with a friend. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you joined us. Drinks will be on me.” He winks.

It’s almost charming.

Tim glances up at Jason. Jason’s head cocks in silent question. At Tim’s slight nod, they both turn back to Alex.

“We’d love to,” Jason says.

“Excellent.” Alexander holds his hand out. “The name’s Alex, by the way.”

Jason shakes it. “Jay. And this is my boyfriend, Tim.”

Tim shakes Alex’s hand next—the man has a good grip. “It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.”

>> AO3 <<

[beyondthesefourwalls]

This Love Came Back to Me (1)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, allusions of smut and potential full smut, stalking, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part One Wordcount: 3.9K

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Bradley hadn’t noticed you at first, which wasn’t necessarily surprising. The Hard Deck was packed tonight, full of the regulars and those from the ship docked at port. He had to do a double take when he caught sight of you across the bar, but oh, it was definitely you alright. 

You had changed your hair since the last time he saw you, but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. They were what drew him to you in the first place. Even now, his heart fluttered in his chest when they looked at him.  

It had been seven months since your break up and the last time the two of you had spoken. You hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you ended before the two of you could even truly begin. The timing wasn’t right, with him being assigned to this special detachment and getting back to back deployments, while you were just starting a new job that kept you unbelievably busy. Your schedules rarely aligned and for the six months of your relationship, you spent more time apart than you did together, both of you struggling to communicate that you wanted to spend time together on the rare chance it was available. It was a mutual decision to let one another go, even if the deep connection you shared when you were together was better than either of you had ever experienced with other people. 

So seeing you now was a bit of a shock to him, but even more surprising was how you barely spared a moment after meeting his eyes before making your way toward him. You were moving with a purpose, weaving your way through the crowd of uniforms and civilians. 

“Hi,” you said as soon as you closed the distance between the two of you. You cut him off before he could respond with a greeting of his own. “I need a favor.” 

Bradley’s eyebrows raised, in surprise or disbelief, he wasn’t sure. You hadn’t spoken in months, and you were asking him for a favor? 

“It’s good to see you, too,” he responded with sarcasm dripping from his tongue. You rolled your eyes, glancing over your shoulder before turning back to him. He noticed for the first time the anxiety that was clearly written all over your face. He cataloged the tension in your shoulders and how you were snapping the hair tie you always kept around your wrist against your skin. It was a nervous tell of yours and even now, all this time later, he felt the urge to reach out to stop you.

“What do you need?” he asked instead. 

You took a deep breath, letting the words out quickly. “I need you to kiss me.” 

“Excuse me?” Bradley choked out a laugh of disbelief. 

You sighed heavily, opening your mouth to respond, when Bradley heard your name being called from a nasally voice near where you had been standing before. When he looked in that direction, he could see a man of minimal stature and build trying to shove his way through the same crowd you had just parted easily. 

“Bad date?” He asked, trying for humor to ease the tension he was starting to feel. Your face scrunched up like you were appalled at the thought and Bradley almost smiled at the look. Almost. 

“God no.”

Seeing you again was throwing him for a loop. That was enough to tell him that he shouldn’t get involved in whatever this is. But he had always had a soft spot when it comes to you, had thought of you often since you parted, and his instincts were telling him something was off. The urge to protect you was just as present now as it was before.

Bradley briefly flicked his eyes toward the man before looking back at you. He felt a twist in his gut at your discomfort. Despite knowing how this could blow up in his face and fuck with his emotions all at the same time, he found himself taking a step closer to you. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, voice lowered so that it was only for you. 

Your eyes closed when your name was called again, the voice slightly closer. You groaned as you opened them, your gaze pleading with him. “I’ll explain later. Please, just go with it? I really don’t want to go kiss a stranger instead.” 

He barely had time to nod before you were closing the remaining distance between your bodies, rising on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your lips against his. 

Wildly, his first thought was if you still favored the transfer proof lipstick or if you would be leaving a pink stain on his lips. 

His second thought, though, was, oh, fuck. 

Bradley’s hands fell naturally to your hips. He squeezed the flesh through the denim of your jeans as he returned the kiss. His mind fogged over with how good it felt to feel you against him like this again. It was like no time had passed at all as those same sparks he felt a year ago shot through him now. You gasped against his mouth and he wondered if maybe you felt the electricity too. 

Right when he was about to give in to his desire and deepen the kiss, he heard your name again, coming from directly behind you this time. You pulled away from him slowly, your breathing intermingling with his. When your eyes fluttered open, he was already looking at you. You were calmer than you had been when you first approached him, and there was an open look of wonder and something suspiciously like want as you gazed back at him. Your lips were slightly parted and he swallowed thickly. 

He wanted to kiss you again. Based on the look in your eyes now, he didn’t think you’d push him away. 

“Hey!” 

That same voice was sharper now. Bradley felt annoyance settle over him both at the tone he was using in your direction and the way he felt you tense up again before you turned to face the intrusion. 

“Paul,” you spoke, your voice flat. Bradley took the other man in now that he was closer. He found himself unimpressed at the wrinkled khakis and tucked-in flannel shirt covering his shorter frame, red hair laying flat on the top of his head. 

“I was calling for you.” 

His voice was grating like nails on a chalkboard. Despite how utterly un-intimidating he appeared to be, though, he was staring at you in a way that made Bradley’s spine straighten. 

“I must not have heard you.”

It was clearly a lie, and he had to fight from showing his surprise at how you weren’t even masking the obviousness of it. He squeezed your hip briefly in what he hoped was reassurance and let his hand rest there when he stepped beside you. You settled briefly back into his arm and he knew it was a silent sign of appreciation. He tried not to read too much into the fact that you needed no words to communicate that. 

“That’s okay,” Paul reassured you quickly with a too eager smile on his face. His eyes trailed up and down your body. It was almost like Bradley wasn’t even standing there.  “You look so pretty tonight.” 

You didn’t say anything, but Paul continued on without allowing you much time to respond anyway, “I want to buy you a drink. Come on.”

He stepped forward and extended his arm to reach for you. You angled your body away from him at the same time that Bradley wrapped his arm more securely around you. He cleared his throat loudly, drawing the other man’s attention away from you for a moment and halting his progress. Paul’s lip curled up in disgust when he noted his presence at your side. Instead of speaking to him, though, his blue eyes went back to you.

“Why were you kissing your friend?” There’s a certain emphasis on the last word that didn’t go unnoticed by either of you. Alarm bells started to ring in his head and though Bradley had told himself he would let you lead, when you started snapping the hair tie against your wrist again, he couldn’t stay quiet anymore. 

“I’m her boyfriend, actually. Who the hell are you?” 

The words came out before he could really register the implications of them, but to your credit, you don’t show surprise at them, either. Instead, you wrap your arm around him in return, your side melded into his. He moves the arm that was at your hip to wrap around your shoulder. 

Still, though, Paul doesn’t look at him. His nostrils flared and his fist curled at his side, but he never took his eyes off you. “You don’t have a boyfriend.” 

Bradley had never been so blatantly ignored in his life and this guy was really, really starting to piss him off. 

“That’s funny, because I’m standing right here. Bradley Bradshaw. Now I’ll ask again - who are you?” 

Paul finally met his eyes. If he wasn’t so tense, Bradley thinks he might have found some amusement in how the color drained from his face as he really looked at him for the first time. He gulped, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he searched for something to say. 

You sighed. It came out slightly shaky, and Bradley cataloged that as another mark against this guy. 

“This is Paul. We work together,” you explained. That’s an interesting development; you must put up with this everyday. Briefly, the thought of how he had no place in your life anymore to be as concerned as he was flashed through his mind. But you were the one that brought him into this, and it was too late to backtrack now.

Bradley hummed in response to your words as he contemplated how he wanted to play this. He wanted to tell the guy to back off and never speak to you again. Or put his fist in his very punchable face for how uncomfortable he made you. But he reeled himself in; he wouldn’t do that until after he heard the full story from you, if it was necessary. He knew for certain, though, that the first order of business needed to be to get you away from him in the here and now. 

“I actually already ordered us drinks, so you’ll have to excuse us.” Without another word,  Bradley turned the both of you away. With his arm still wrapped tightly around your shoulders, he guided you to the other side of the bar. Paul called your name one more time but it went ignored. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, but Bradley shook his head as he kept walking steadily forward. 

“Will you let me buy you a drink?” he asked instead. 

“You don’t have to. I shouldn’t have pulled you into this.”

“Too late now, Bug.” The nickname slipped out before he could stop it. It was something he had called you since your second or third date, when a ladybug had landed on your nose and even after you had swatted it away, it kept coming back. He had laughed and said something about how maybe it was a sign you were a good luck charm, and how maybe it meant your relationship was lucky. It made his stomach twist thinking about how he had been wrong back then. 

He pushed forward before he could dwell on how much he hadn’t realized he missed saying it. “Please. Let me buy you a drink, at least until he leaves?”

You met his eyes and must have found what you’re looking for, because you slowly nodded your head. There were two open seats at the end of the bar - Bradley guided you to sit in the one that would allow him to be on the very end, angling himself toward you while your back was to the rest of the bar - Paul included. 

You must have ordered your drink before this all started, because Penny slid a glass that had already gathered some condensation in front of you along with a bottle of Bradley’s regular. He thanked her, requesting they both be put on his tab before she walked away. 

He watched you quietly for a moment as you took a sip. It was the first time he had really been able to take you in. There was stress written all over your face and tension in your shoulders. Your normally bright eyes were duller than he had ever seen them. Regardless of all of that, though, you were just as beautiful as he remembered; you were still you. 

“Are you alright?” he asked you gently. 

“I’ll be okay,” you assured him with a tight, small smile. He didn’t miss how you avoided answering if you were okay right now. “Bradley..I’m so sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” 

You stared at him in disbelief, but he did his best to keep his face steady and reassuring. After a moment, you sighed, and the look on your face settled into something more genuine. “It’s really good to see you.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed easily, a smile tugging at his lips, “it’s really good to see you, too.” 

He stared at you for a long moment and you stared right back. It had always been easy to get lost in your eyes and it seemed like that hadn’t changed with time. 

While he hadn’t seen you, he had thought about you more often than he would ever admit, even to himself. He had met you on a dating app. After weeks of one or two messages here or there with several different women, you were the first one he had a full conversation with after you messaged him with an absolutely god awful pilot joke that genuinely made him laugh. You had talked back and forth for a few weeks before he finally got the courage to ask you for drinks. The connection he had with you was instantaneous and special. He truly thought that if the timing and communication was better, you could have been the one. Instead, he had thought of you as the one that got away.

And now here you were, sitting right in front of him. When he had thought of running into you again, this wasn’t a scenario he had never considered. 

“Do you want to tell me what just happened?” he asked softly. 

The smile fell from your face and Bradley almost wished he wouldn’t have brought it up. You took another sip of your drink before setting it down on the bar and folding your hands in your lap. “Paul works in my department. He took a liking to me when he started a few months ago and has been very…persistent with it, lately.”

“How did he know where you'd be tonight?”

You sighed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Honestly? Not really sure. Maybe he heard me talking about it with one of my coworkers today? I think I may have mentioned it in passing at one point.”

Your words made him feel uneasy. You didn’t sound confident in the reasoning you gave; the red flags were blowing brightly right in front of him. But he could see how anxious you were getting, too, and decided to tread lightly. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” He asked, “No offense, but The Hard Deck isn’t really your scene.”

He had brought you here a handful of times when you dated, but had never entertained the thought of you coming here alone. For a brief moment, he feared you were actually supposed to be meeting another date here. 

“I was supposed to be getting drinks with a friend of mine and her new boyfriend to meet him, but they bailed. I didn’t see the text until I was already here,” you explained. The shot of jealousy that he had felt dissipated.

“Ah.”

“What about you?” you asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from the red headed problem in the room. He would let you, for now, simply because maybe it would mean extending the conversation for a little bit longer. He knew he was beginning the descent down a slippery slope. Truly, he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. 

A sudden look of horror crossed your face before he could answer your first question. “Oh my God. You aren’t meeting a girlfriend, are you? I just kissed you!”

He chuckled into his beer bottle, shaking his head as he took a sip. “I’m single.”

You sighed in relief. “That’s good. Glad I’m not an unintentional homewrecker.”

Bradley laughed again. He was pleased when, after a moment, you started giggling too. The sound had always made him feel a little warmer. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, contemplating his next question. He decided just to go for it; there was really nothing to lose at this point. 

“Are you?” 

You looked at him curiously and he cleared his throat, feeling a blush creep its way up his neck. “Single. Are you?” 

“Oh!” you exclaimed. You snapped your hair tie once before you answered. “Yes. Very.” 

He didn’t immediately know what he wanted to do with that information, but combined with the way you were looking at him, he knew that there were at least a few possibilities to consider. You must think the same because without further prompting, you were asking him what he’s been up to lately. 

He wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed as you caught up on your lives for the last seven months. His deployments had calmed down as he turned into being more of an instructor. Your work had gotten crazier. You swapped stories back and forth and it transitioned into discussing current events and the hobbies both of you had either let go or taken up. 

The bar became busier as the night got later and when the people behind you started to get a little rowdy, he pulled your bar stool closer to his. Your feet were hooked on the metal at the bottom of his chair between his spread legs and his hands rested on the outside of your thighs. Bradley could smell your perfume with how close you were. 

Buying you one drink turned into buying you two, and it was so nice, being here with you like this. 

“You’re staring at me,” you accused, smirking into your glass as you finished your second drink. 

“You’re nice to stare at,” he answered easily, not bothering to deny it. “I think you’ve gotten more beautiful since the last time I saw you, Bug.” 

“I have not,” you laughed lightly and shook your head. But even as you disagreed with him, he could see the goosebumps break out on your skin. 

“You have,” he insisted. He reached up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and delighted in the way your eyes fluttered closed for a moment and your body shivered. Seeing that he could still cause these reactions in you sent a thrill through him that raised his body temperature. “You’ve always been the most beautiful woman in the room in my eyes.” 

“Oh please. I’m sure there have been plenty of women prettier than me lately,” you rolled your eyes in that self-deprecating way you tended to do, but Bradley was shaking his head before you were even done speaking. 

“There hasn’t been anyone.” 

You froze, meeting his eyes from where you had let them fall to the ground. He didn’t flinch, needing you to see just how serious he was. Your lips parted in surprise, but you sucked in a breath and let your hand come up to play with the buttons on his Hawaiin shirt. 

“There hasn’t been anyone else for me, either,” you admitted quietly. 

His hands rubbed the denim that covered your thighs and he leaned forward on his stool. 

“Then why aren’t we still together, Bug?” 

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, releasing it quickly as your eyes flickered down to his lips before meeting his dark gaze again. “I’m really struggling to remember right n-” 

His lips were on yours before you could get all the words out. You gasped against his mouth and he took it for the opportunity it was to deepen the kiss. He groaned as his tongue tangled with yours. You tasted even better than he remembered. One hand trailed higher up your leg, his fingers hooking into one of your belt loops as he brought you even closer to him. You whimpered into the kiss and tightened your grip on his open shirt as you matched his pace just as perfectly as you always did. Breathing eventually became an issue and he pulled away from you slowly and reluctantly, pecking your lips twice more as he did. Your chest heaved as you fought to catch your breath. Your eyes were hooded and damn, he had missed you so much. 

He was about to lean in to kiss you again when he caught a flash of red and flannel in his peripheral vision. He scanned the thick crowd of people and it didn’t take long for his eyes to find Paul, hovering near the wall on the other side of the bar with a direct line of sight to where you were sitting. The almost possessive look on his face as he stared had Bradley tightening his grip on you, the same protective instinct from earlier washing over him. He had gotten so caught up in this reunion that he had almost forgotten the cause of it in the first place. 

He wasn’t looking at him for long before you cupped his cheek and brought his eyes back to yours. “Don’t worry about him.” 

Bradley’s eyebrows furrowed at how you didn’t seem overly surprised at the fact that your coworker was still there, and how you were speaking like it was a common occurrence to feel his beady little eyes on you. He wondered just how much more there was to your earlier story. He swallowed down the urge to ask you about it right now, but he couldn’t tamper the need to get you away from him, again. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. He moved first, and when you gracefully stood from your bar stool, he pulled your body flush against his, leaning down for another kiss. The tension that had reappeared in your shoulders slipped, and he vowed that he would do whatever he could to keep it that way, for as long as you let him.

“My car is in the parking lot,” you supplied, slightly breathless from the kiss.

“Will you let me follow you home?” he asked. You bit your lip, searching his face, before you nodded.

“I’d like that.” 

Bradley wrapped an arm around your shoulder after he threw down enough money on the bar to cover the tab and the tip. He placed a kiss to the top of your head as you made your way to the door. He looked over his shoulder as the two of you walked out, searching the room for the man that had put you both on edge, but he was nowhere to be found. 

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Part Two :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: This story was meant to live in the abyss of lost stories that is my Google Docs. It only exists because @mak-32 and @roosterforme never let me forget it. After literal months of not touching it, I finally picked it back up. Thank you both so much, and for dealing with all the freak outs I’ve had to get to this point (and will continue to have lol). And double thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

I really hope everyone enjoys this. It’s going to be a ride🖤 Likes/comments/reblogs are the best encouragement.

Tag List (please let me know if you’d like to be removed or added!) :  @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun -@avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

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[mudisgranapat]

Civilian!Reader X ToxicBF!Simon (Part 2)

Word Count: 2,9 K

Content: Toxic and manipulative behaviour, mention of blood, swearing.

Part 1

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When Johnny invited you to the bar that day, you were reluctant to go. Even though you could use the night off, the mere thought of seeing him paralyzed you in fear. Two weeks ago, Simon came to your flat to keep you company. The two of you had ordered takeout and eaten it while you talked about your life. Simon was always so attentive, his eyes looking at you with pure worry and care, and it made your insides twist every time you felt yourself under his gaze. 

Your whole life you had wished, dreamed, ached for someone to look at you the way Simon did. But at the same time, it felt like a paradox. Simon saw you, but he didn’t see you. You knew he didn’t feel the same way about you because Simon Riley never needed anyone. Not only did the two of you have nothing in common in terms of lifestyle, you also had completely different expectations for a romantic life. 

You wanted someone to live a movie romance with, someone who would crave you just as much as you did them. A man who was rough around the edges but melted when it came to you, fighting off the whole world while holding you tight to his chest. And every time you looked at Simon, it was a sour reminder that you had all you ever wanted within arms reach, but were never able to grab it.

He was from a different world, where people were tough, solved problems with their fists, and faced their fears with all their might. Someone as strong as Simon would never go for someone as fragile as you. What could I ever give him? The question would pound in your head when you felt lonely, a reminder that you had nothing to offer but timid confessions and a feeble mind. But even knowing that, you still came back to him, because he was the silver lining on your cloudy days. 

So you tortured yourself, over and over again, spilling your guts out to him over tea, movies, and walks in the park, entertaining the idea that he needed those moments as much as you did, only to come back to the darkness of your flat and coldness of your bed. Alone.

You found yourself whining about your problems again, that fateful day, two weeks ago. It wasn’t uncommon for Simon to go to your house to comfort you, and instead of dismissing the pity party, you would bake the cake and provide the entertainment. Sometimes, Simon would get a phone call or a text, but he never stopped your rambling to pick it up, opting to quickly look at the name on the screen before putting his phone on silent.

Until that day. 

You had been talking about your coworker, who you were sure was stealing your pens, when he said “Hold on, I have to take this”. Amidst your shock and neglect, you managed to capture a name on the screen of his phone. Sarah. You could feel the knot forming on your throat, while simultaneously feeling like you were about to throw up all the food you had just eaten. Fucking Sarah? Who the fuck is she? A party wrecker, at least. Setting in flames the walls of the scenario you had built. This wasn’t a date, it was a favor a good soldier did for the helpless girl he met. You were hopelessly attached to him like a leech on a vein, feeding from another being’s nurture, just to be pulled without courtesy from your shelter and chucked to the side to rot under the scolding sun.  

The longer he spent on his phone, the more visible the tethers that united the two of you became, and with each laugh he let out, the weaker they became, falling on the floor like loose and meaningless strings. That day you realized you needed to stop this parasitic relationship before it got worse. The two of you were just friends after all, yet there you were, wanting to rip your hair out every time you heard the other woman’s voice coming through the speakers on his phone. 

Your luck hadn’t been good lately, in fact, it had become increasingly worse since you started ignoring Simon, two weeks ago. You couldn’t deny that talking to him was like having someone take all the weight off your shoulders, but it was time to be a big girl and move on. You needed to learn how to live without him and deal with your own problems, instead of dumping them on someone else. Besides, alcohol was always a good friend when times were bad, and you knew you could never say no to going out with Johnny, especially because he always paid for your drinks. 

So you put your best clothes on, styled your hair, and did your makeup. That way, even if you saw Simon, you wouldn’t look like a complete loser, even though you had been soaking alone in your own misery all this time. Your problems were piling up throughout the day, resting above your bed during the night and avalanching you in the morning, now that you didn’t have Simon to magically make them go away. So, if you were to start dealing with your problems by yourself, facing him should be on priority on that list. It took all your strength not to cower and go back under the comfort of your covers, but you put your high heels on and made your way to the bar.

You took a breath to calm yourself down before opening the doors of the bar, not giving yourself time to change your mind and… Oh, how you regretted your decision the moment you walked in and saw Simon sitting at the table, a glass of whisky on one hand and a woman’s waist on the other. But it was too late to turn around because a certain Scot had already seen you. 

“Aye, lass! Over here!” He said, bearing a smile so wide you could see all his teeth. “I told ya she would come.” He turns to Simon for the last sentence.

Simon takes a sip of his glass, hiding the small smile that escaped his lips, visible due to the small folds he had made on his mask in order to place it on top of his nose. But he knew you would come. He had dealt his cards carefully so that he could safely bet on your return to him. He wraps his arms tighter around the other woman’s waist as you approach their table. “This is Sarah”, he introduces her to you. “She’s a Sergeant.”

You want to barf at the sound of pride in his voice. It doesn’t help that the woman in front of you is gorgeous, exactly the type you knew Simon would go for. You can see her defined muscles under her shirt, and her impeccable posture. She has a tall pint of Guinness on the table in front of her, and a small scar on her left eyebrow that somehow makes her more attractive. The tone of her voice is confident as she introduces herself to you, making an effortless conversation the whole night. Not only that, but she makes Simon laugh. You feel yourself wanting to jump across the table and grab her by the neck, even though she would probably knock you out before you even made it to her side. 

Simon watches you with silent joy, noticing the venom that seeps from your mouth with every smile you make toward Sarah. He can sense the longing in your voice when you talk to him, desperate for his attention, and it’s like music to his ears hearing you after so long. He knew it would be a hard couple of days, or however long you could handle without talking to him before falling back into his arms. It was a risky game that he had played with excellence - leading you to believe you were in control of the situation, choosing to distance yourself from him. It was all calculated, letting you see Sarah’s name on his phone, telling Sarah you would be free to call at that time when he knew he would be with you. It had hurt him to see your suffering, but he needed you to walk away to realize how much you would miss him, and he could see that it had worked. Every crumb of attention he gave to you now was like watching a drug addict relapse into their first high.

The jealousy that seeped from your pores was the best part, he thought. It was a result of pure, unaltered desire, condensing into spikes on your skin that you mentally flicked into Sarah’s direction. Watching his innocent girl fight the urge inside her to go ballistic was a delight. Because you were his girl, even though you didn’t know it yet. He sat comfortably in his chair like he was in a movie theater, spectating from the front row all the conflicting emotions that you screened on your face. 

“I’m going out for a smoke.” He said after some time, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t have to look back to know you were following him, probably after delivering some bullshit excuse to the table. He welcomed the fresh air outside the bar and walked to a corner, your footsteps following behind him. He lit his first cigarette as you approached him. “Smoking now?” The humor is clear in his voice, but you don’t fall for it.

“Started last week. Not that you would know.” You say a blatant lie, holding out your open palm for him to give you a cigarette. 

“I don’t know what this fuss is all about.” His tone is dismissive, knowing where the conversation was heading so he acted like you were making a situation out of nothing. “You’re the one that started ignoring me for no reason.” He gives you a cigarette and you take it to your mouth, both of you fully aware you don’t smoke. But you’re not backing out of any challenges tonight, so when he lights it, you take a long drag of smoke, holding it in your lungs for a few seconds before letting it out. 

“How long have the two of you been dating?” He laughs at your question, shaking his head while he takes a drag of his cigarette. “How long?” You insist. 

“You really think that I would date her?”

“That’s exactly the type I think you would date.” 

“Really? How so?” He’s in front of you now, centering you between him and the wall. He smiles sarcastically while he turns to blow the smoke away from your face, acting like this is all some joke.

“Beautiful, strong, same job as you…” You trail off, fidgeting with the cigarette on the tip of your fingers. “The list goes on.”

“Does it? It seems like a pretty short list to me.” He shrugs, and you can’t help but notice how his muscles flex under his shirt. “How have you been?”

You scoff at the sudden change of topic. “Like you care, Simon.” Deciding you’re done with the conversation, you drop your barely smoked cigarette to the ground, using your foot to put it out, a motion you’ve watched Simon repeat a thousand times. Whenever he smoked, he always made sure you were okay with it first - and if it were anyone else, you wouldn’t be, as you loathed the smell of nicotine. But with him, it was different, everything was. You would watch as his arms flexed, the details of his tattoo poking out from his sleeve as he put the cigarette in his mouth. Hypnotized by his lips, you would try to be discreet, observing the smoke dissipate in the air when he exhaled, dreaming of what his mouth would taste like if you were to kiss him at that moment. 

Before you can leave, he puts his hand on the wall at the same height as your head, caging you with his body. You hold your breath, wide-eyed, looking up at him in surprise, as he disposes of the cigarette with his other hand.

“Of course I care.” Simon loved catching you by surprise, relishing the look in your eyes as you waited for his next move, completely frozen. He adored how you surrendered all control to him without ever noticing it, inert until his gestures gave you permission to move. It was almost like a dance, as you helplessly waited for him to guide you into the next step.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand, taking time to observe each feature as he let his hand follow down your face, finally landing on your lips. Resting his hand on your chin, he runs his thumb over your soft lips. He wondered what your lips would taste like if he were to kiss you at this moment. 

He could see the rapid movement of your chest, your sweet heart thumping under your ribcage. You dry-swallowed as you tried to calm down your breathing, fear mixing with lust in your veins as you came to the realization of how much power Simon had over you, not just physically, but emotionally. You knew then that there was nothing you wouldn’t do for another chance to have him touching you like this again, so delicately, so intimately. You couldn’t care less if he were to kill you right now, it would have been worth it just for having him look at you like you were the only woman in the world. 

“Stop lying to me, Simon.” He hadn’t even kissed you, yet you knew no other man would ever make you feel that way. You wanted to hate him for leading you on, for listening to you like no one else ever had, knowing it didn’t mean the same to him. But you couldn’t, because this one-sided relationship had been all you had thought about since the two of you had met. 

“Lying? Love, why would I ever want to lie to you? Do my actions not speak louder than my words?” He asks with fake innocence, knowing well enough that you didn’t know about his actions. A good girl like you could never imagine all the things he had done, all the work he did in the shadows, covered in blood and gunpowder so you could sleep safely at night. So he could come back to you with peace of mind, knowing he got his hands dirty so you wouldn’t have to. 

“I can’t do this.” You’re talking to yourself at this point, confessions slipping from your lips in the heat of the moment. “I kept lying to myself thinking that I would be okay with you being with another girl, but I can’t Simon. I can’t handle the thought of sharing you with someone else.”

“You are so oblivious.” He says, taking a step forward and closing the distance between you. His hand moves from your chin to the nape of your neck, intertwining his finger with your hair and softly pulling it, securing you in a firm grasp. “You really think it’s been the Universe solving your problems all this time, huh?” He chuckles, clicking his tongue. His other hand moves down to your waist, grabbing it with a firm grip as he presses you against the wall. “Let me give you a hint. The Universe didn’t beat your bloody ex-boyfriend into a pulp.”

If your eyes could have physically widened more, they would have. Your mind is brought back to the day Simon showed up at your flat at 5 am, his fists bloody and covered in bruises. He had told you it was from a bar fight and you believed him. You had taken him to the kitchen, where he sat on the isle while you positioned yourself between his knees, wet cloth in hand. You took care of his bruises and washed the blood off his hand, not realizing until now it was your ex-boyfriend’s blood. You fell asleep on the couch with Simon afterwards, while you ran your hands through his hair and told yourself that whoever he had hurt must have deserved it. When you woke up to your friend calling you to deliver the news that your ex was in the hospital, beaten beyond recognition, Simon shushed you and convinced you to go back to sleep in his arms. 

It made sense now, why sometimes the coffee shop would charge cheaper for your order because of the “skull guy”, but with the owner’s thick accent, you didn’t think much of it, assuming it was a foreign word for “deal” or “promotion”, sipping your coffee mindlessly as you left the shop. 

Not even when your boss made the sign of the cross and muttered “ghost” every time he crossed your path did you ever realize it had been Simon pulling the strings all along.

When you think back to every problem you had told him about, only to wake up to it magically solved, you finally notice that Simon had been looking out for you all this time, not ever worrying about getting credit for his deeds or the consequences they could ever cause him. 

“How could I not care about you, princess? I would kill for you. All you have to do is ask”. 

[drewsbuzzcut]

Right Where You Left Me

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: angst, self inflicted doubts, slight jealousy, lack of communication, age gaps, break ups, alcohol consumption, and I think that’s all

this takes place when they were just dating

You sit in your bedroom, trying to stop your tears from falling as you look out your window. It’s to no avail.

How could a perfect night end up so terribly wrong? You were meant to celebrate your latest magazine cover with Mat in attendance. Now you’re crying your eyes out, wishing you never invited him along.

The night started off great. You and Mat walked around, socializing with everyone there. You both had a couple drinks and Mat quite literally never left your side. He was proud of you and wanted to see how appreciated you are. You’re the one who left his side. Never in your life have you been the jealous type, but when you walked back to Mat after getting you and him drinks from the bar, you weren’t expecting to see him so enthusiastically talking to another woman. His smile is wide to the point you can see his dimples. His body language is relaxed and her’s is laced with interest. Why wouldn’t she be?

You linger back, halting your steps in favor of letting the crowd drown you out from where you’re witnessing Mat and the woman’s conversation. Deciding to avoid them, you turn and find someone to talk to. Your conversation is only a distraction especially when you can hear the distinct sound of your boyfriend’s laughter. You peek over your shoulder only to regret it the second you catch a glance at the woman he’s talking to. She’s a woman. In every sense. Her makeup is so elegant and light. Her hair is perfectly curled and pinned, and her outfit looks like it was designed just for her. She’s everything you’re insecure about- especially in regard to your relationship and age gap with Mat.

You bite the bullet and excuse yourself from who you were talking to, making your way to the person you wish you didn’t want to avoid.

“Hi,” you mumble and mentally slap yourself for coming off as shy or intimidated.

“Y/n! Hi, honey. Your cover is fantastic! For a young model you sure do have an amazing resume,” she compliments you, her words have a way of punching your gut.

“Thank you! That means a lot,” you try to fake a smile and she buys it, but you can see Mat look at you from the corner of your eye.

“I am so sorry. Where are my manners? This is Mathew Barzal, he’s a hockey player. I don’t know how he ended up at an event like this, but we were just talking about hockey. As an older Canadian who grew up around hockey, I was attempting to school him. I wanted to see if he knew his own game as well as I do,” the woman says, cocking her head to the side in utter confidence.

You knew she was older.

You give her another faint smile before responding.

“He’s a great hockey player. Mat’s my boyfriend,” you state and watch as realization crosses her facial features.

“My goodness, sorry. He didn’t mention he was here with his girlfriend, but I guess it never really came up. Wow! How did a man like you end up with a girl like Y/n? I would’ve expected you to be with someone around your age and not as busy,” she has the audacity to say to your face.

“I can keep up with him just fine, thanks for your concern,” you bite, smiling sarcastically.

“She’s the best girlfriend,” Mat finally decided to contribute to the conversation. He throws an arm over your shoulders, but you quickly remove yourself after bidding a quick goodbye to the woman whose name you’re glad you didn’t learn.

You never wanted to see her again.

“Are you okay?” Mat asks, catching up to you and resting a hand on your arm.

“I’m fine,” you say stoically.

“No you’re not,” he points out.

“Then why’d you ask?” You snap, still facing away from him.

“What the hell is going on?” He grabs your shoulders and turns you towards him.

“What the hell is going on with you and that lady?” You question.

Mat looks confused because why are you angry about him talking to someone else. Mat looks confused because why are you tearing up and not making eye contact with him?

“What are you talking about?” He tries to reach for your hands, but you pull them away from him before he can touch you.

“Stop doing that,” he whispers.

His veins on his neck are already starting to pop out and his face is getting flushed. He’s having a hard time being patient with you.

“Can you take me home?” You ask silently.

“Can you answer my question?”

“No, because if I do, we’re just going to fight,” you answer.

“Why would you, answering my question, make us fight? If anything, you not answering my question and ignoring me is what’s pissing me off,” he claims, a warning in his tone.

You drag your fingers through your hair and turn away from him again. You can feel your chest heave even though you’re trying to hide it. You face him again, your teary eyes flashing up at him. The crinkle in between your eyebrows gets Mat to close the distance and smooth out the skin with his thumb. You hold onto his wrist and push his hand away.

“You looked like you were really enjoying your conversation with her. Like I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so animated, not even with me,” you whisper and shut your eyes.

Mat’s eyebrows turn down in a frown and his lips form into a semi-frown.

“That can’t be true, and we were just talking about hockey. You know I love hockey,” he says.

“You never talk with me about hockey, besides game details. I know you know that hockey isn’t my favorite, but when it comes to you I’d talk about anything.”

“I don’t mean to not talk about hockey with you. I can change that, though, easily,” he tries to calm your worries, but you can’t stop the thoughts in your head.

“The thing is that you can find it so easy to talk to another woman about something that you find hard to talk about with me,” you counter. Your face pinches up in discomfort.

“You can’t place all of that blame on me,” he responds.

“I’m not trying to blame just you. She just seemed really interested in you and what she said was bitchy. She made it seem like you both were flirting,” you stress.

“That wasn’t my case. I was just talking to her about hockey,” Mat defends himself. You believe him but those damn thoughts in your head can’t be silenced.

“I just can’t get over the vibe I got from the way you looked so cozy.”

“I don’t know what to tell you to make you believe me. I’m telling the truth that nothing was or is going on with that woman. It was just a conversation. I don’t know how to get through to you,” he says through clenched teeth.

You grab onto his hand for the first time since you started this conversation. You squeeze them gently before looking into Mat’s eyes.

“That’s my fault. I just- I thought maybe you didn’t know how to handle me, but maybe I don’t know how to handle you. You and all that you come with. Maybe you should be with someone older and not some little girl who doesn’t know what she’s dealing with,” you admit through soft cracks of your voice.

Mat wipes away your tears, looking down at you with a saddened expression.

“No. No, please don’t do this. You are perfect for me. I don’t want a girlfriend if it’s not you, you know me,” he argues, shaking his head repeatedly and continuously wiping away your tears.

“We’re at different stages in life. You need someone older. Someone who isn’t me! I’m not right for you and clearly that’s noticeable to everyone except us,” you explain, flitting your eyes up to his only to regret it once you see nothing but pain in them.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you giving up on us? You’re the love of my life, that much I’m sure of. It’s only 5 years. We’re both adults,” he states, holding onto your face even though it’s no use.

“Can you please just take me home?”

Mat doesn’t say anything. He bitterly nods his head and moves away from you, begrudgingly walking to his car.

The car ride is quiet and tense. The air condition isn’t enough to drown out the silence or your sniffles. Each time Mat hears you, he flinches and recoils his hands before he can fully reach out to touch you.

When he parks outside of your apartment, he hastily gets out to open your door for you. Your heart twists in an ache that seems like it’ll be a permanent visitor. You’re going to miss him so much.

“I can get up by myself,” you mutter when you realize he’s following you inside.

“Please, Y/n. I love you,” he pulls you back by your hand, a hand going to your waist because he physically can’t let go of you.

“And I love you. That’s why we can’t be together. You deserve someone better,” you stress.

“You don’t get it. There is no one better. There is just you. You, Y/n L/n, the love of my life. What do I need to do to make you believe that? What have I done to make you doubt me?”

“Nothing. Follow me or don’t follow me up, but we’re done, okay?” You pull out of his grasp, hoping and begging that he doesn’t follow you.

When you get to your door, your shaking hands fumble the keys and struggle to unlock your door. You can feel his presence behind you and it makes you feel worse. You rip the door open, hoping that behind it there’s fresh air. You turn to close it, rapidly blinking your tears away as you stare into Mat’s eyes. You see his red rimmed eyes and the defeated gaze in his face, but you don’t have it in yourself to say anything. You close the door in his face and wait a few minutes for him to leave so you can break down completely. You had no idea that he spent the entire night outside your front door, hearing you sob and fighting with himself to find a way to comfort you.

a/n: Enjoy some Mat and model!reader angst!

[oonajaeadira]

Nadie Espera un Milagro (No One Expects a Miracle)

Fandom: Narcos / Javier Peña

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Reader: Sassy, confident, American ex-pat female who finds her parents a little tedious and enjoys both her independence and her job as a high-level admin at the DEA. No physical descriptions, no use of y/n.

Rating: T

Warnings: era-”appropriate” behavior of men towards women in the workplace (but a lot better than it was, Steve and Javi are actually pretty respectful). Overbearing and slightly infantilizing parents. Author doesn’t know anything about politics or law enforcement.

Summary: When your parents come to visit you at your job in Bogotá, you figure it’s just easier to paint a picture that will put them at ease. The idea is simple. The plan is flawed. The execution is just fluff.

A/N: Written for my Year of Tropes (part of @yearofcreation2023​) Fake dating seemed like an easy trope for a busy month, which is why I chose it for February. (Whoops. Happy April!) With all of these tropes I like to challenge myself a little and I feel like the character choice alone for this one was challenge enough for me. Not only do I not know anything about politics and law enforcement, I haven’t written Javier much. And, of all the boys I do write, I feel like he’d be the least likely candidate to participate in and fall for fake dating, so I had to figure out how to make it believable for myself. Which is why there’s more plot than I intended and reader ended up with some backstory. This is season 2 Javi, obviously not canon, and maybe a bit too soft, so sue me for yearning. Yes, reader’s parents are cartoon versions of my own parents, why do you ask?

“Well hey there, sunshine,” a wisp of smoke accompanies Steve’s greeting as he leans back in his chair and crosses his long legs at the ankle to the side of his desk, leaning over momentarily to stub the cigarette out into a shared ashtray. “We don’t often get the pleasure of a visit–looks like you remember we exist.”

“Ha ha. I could say the same about you. Did you boys finally get your morals whipped into shape, or are you just over the thrill of making me break the law for you every other week?”

There’s a halt in the clack clack clack of Javier’s typewriter as he turns at the sound of your voice. Standing to reach across the desk, he scrubs out his own cigarette, makes a futile attempt to wave away the smoke, and watches you descend the stairs into their working arena. “Hey, Sully,” he smiles like a man not accustomed to it and rests his hands on the waistband of his ridiculously out-of-fashion jeans. “That’s a new dress.”

You flash him a grin and shake your head. “Stop. Don’t waste your flirting on me, Peña. You know I don’t need greasing.”

He only shifts his weight to one hip. There’s no response but a compliant tick of his jaw.

It’s second nature with Javier. He knows he���s good looking. Knows all he has to do is flash those puppy dogs and throw some attention, and ladies will give him anything he wants. You love it and hate it. Hate it because it’s insulting to be targeted for manipulation just because you’re a woman. But you love it because the man is Javier Peña and you’d be lying if you said those big brown eyes weren’t beautiful and you’re happy to have an excuse to have them pointed your way with warmth rather than the chill he reserves for the more bureaucratic workers. It’s a safe kind of crush, the kind you can play with as long as you never expect too much.

Javier’s been stopping by your office since before there was a Steve Murphy, buttering you up and asking for favors–access to a file here, a release stamp there–hell. You’ve expedited more requests on his behalf than all of the upper cabinet combined. And how many times have you distracted the clerk in tapes archives just so Javi could walk by and flash a request form without having it scrutinized for certification?

Every request starts the same, with his awkward little smile and an actual compliment. And every mission accomplished gains you a “Thanks, you’re a miracle worker.”

“Like Anne Sullivan?” you’d asked after the tenth or twentieth time.

“Huh?”

“Anne Sullivan. Hellen Keller’s teacher. The Miracle Worker.”

That caught him off guard. “Uh, yeah. Anne–?”

“Sullivan.”

“Right. I guess you’re an Anne Sullivan. I’d be lost in the dark without you.”

You’d allowed yourself to be charmed. “Careful there, Agent Peña, or you’re gonna make me rather fond of you.”

Nothing makes a grown man blush faster than to out-flirt the flirter. Not that it was hard with Javier. He was adorably miserable at it.

But it was always fun to watch him try…and to periodically beat him at his own game.

Once Steve landed in Colombia, you got two for the price of one. But Murphy knew you could see through his games and didn’t even try. It endeared you to him that he approached you sincerely. And you knew you could always do the same with him.

“As a matter of fact, it IS a new dress,” you chirp, twisting your shoulders one way and then the other, fluttering your lashes and fanning yourself with a hand in a mock display of coy preening. “My parents are flying in tonight and I’m taking them out to dinner.”

“I thought the trade conferences weren’t for a few days,” Steve frowns and shoots a concerned glance at his desk calendar.

“They’re not. But they’re coming through to spend some time with me and tour the city. Mixing business with pleasure. That’s…um…actually why I’m here. I need to cash in a favor.”

Javi chuckles as he settles back into his chair, throwing one heel and then the other onto the desktop. “Time to pay the piper. Name it.”

“Actually,” you cringe, turning to Steve, “I thought I’d ask Murphy here.”

Throwing a surprised but self-satisfied grin over at his partner, Steve puffs out his chest. “Well I guess I can be the hero for the day. Anything you need, sunshine.”

Thankfully Javi seems to feel the need to show he’s not offended and returns to his typewriter to peck out his report. Good. This is an embarrassing enough ask. You don’t really need witnesses to this.

“So, this is going to sound like a big deal but it’s really not. My relationship with my folks is just…complicated,” you assure him, priming the agent for the stupidest thing you’re ever going to ask for in your life. “It would make my and everyone’s life easier if I was seeing someone? Because then my mother wouldn’t bring it up and pressure me and irritate my father, and he wouldn’t worry about me here so much thinking I’m a woman all alone…it’s just…it’s…,” you sigh, irritated. “This is so dumb.”

Clackety clack clack ding whirr. You look up to see Steve gaping at you.

“Are you asking me to pose as your boyfriend?”

Silence. You’re sure if you turned to look over your shoulder, you’d see a frozen Javier, two fingers of each hand hanging above his typewriter like a little T-Rex.

Oh for a trapdoor or hand of god…. Suck it up. They owe you.

“Yup.”

“Uh….”

You expected this. “I’m not asking you to make a show or….they’re coming in tomorrow and I thought if you were here you could just meet them for a second. And if you’re not, I could just point to your desk–”

“Doll,” Steve releases a confused laugh, “I’m married, you know.”

“Yeah, but Connie’s not here. Like I said, they won’t delve. If I just point at a man, they’ll accept it and leave it alone.”

“So you’re going to lie to your parents.”

A confident nod is your first response. “Absolutely. And if you’d met them–when you meet them–you’ll understand why that’s best. Or you won’t. You really won’t get to talk to them long enough to find out. Just give a couple of handshakes, be nice and I’ll move them along. It’s that easy.”

Gritting his teeth, Steve gives a disbelieving shake of the head. “I dunno. I mean, the ruse won’t stand if they mention my name to anyone. Why me? Why not that new guy in the mail room who’s been watching you walk away?”

“Jimmy?” you scoff. “Yeah, no, not my type.”

“Really. Dark hair and pretty blue eyes and a six-pack he doesn’t mind showing off isn’t your type?”

“Wellllll, when you put it that way…sure he’s not your type?” Now it’s Javi’s turn to huff a silent laugh and you give him a conspiratorial smile before rounding back on Steve. “He’s dull, Murphy. My parents know me well enough that I’m not going to go for dull. So take that as a compliment. And he’s a bedpost-notcher. I don’t want to encourage that kind of behavior. I may be lacking in male companionship but I’m not that lonely. Yet.”

Your no-nonsense, shut-em-down tone quiets both of them and for a moment you think you’ve won. But his response makes it obvious you’re going to have to cash in all your chips.

“Still. There are enough single guys around here–”

“Because,” with one hand on the corner of his desk you lean in to conspire even though his partner is three feet away and can obviously hear you, “most of them are a bunch of lazy sit-abouts and you’re always out and busy. It not only paints a good picture, it’s the perfect excuse not to join us for dinner because my mother will do her best to insist. And,” you wheedle, lowering your voice further, “because you owe me.”

“I would counter that I owe you a lot more than he does.” Javi keeps his voice at a stage whisper in mockery of your own and shrugs as you and Steve swivel your gaze to him. “What.”

“Lying to the Assistant Trade Rep of the Western Hemisphere about intimate relations with his daughter sounds like a good time to you? You can have it.” Steve taps your shoulder before pointing at his partner. “He’s not hitched. Why not Javi?”

Rolling your eyes, you stall for time as you try to find a better answer than the truth, but when one doesn’t come, a sigh paves the way. “Because you dress more respectable than he does–”

“Hey.”

“--and my mother is judgy!,” your heartfelt insisting pushes through, doing your best to placate Javi–handsome Javi–who really does know how to keep the last decade’s fashion in fashion. “Javi, you’re lovely and you look good and I don’t want you to change. But my mother is going to take you for a ladies man, which you are, you know you are, and she’s going to pick apart your choices with wanton disapproval which is almost more unbearable for me than not being attached to anyone at all because then I’ll spend hours defending you for nothing–”

Steve and Javi finally break and their sudden laughter shuts you down. It’s all you can do not to give both of them the finger and a good ol’ fuck off.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve says through his trailing amusement, taking his turn now to placate. “Fine. We’ll make ourselves scarce and you can use the imprint of my ass in this chair as proof of warm-blooded human male. But maybe a false name, yeah? Like…Peter or…Harvey or something.”

“Harvey?” Javi scoffs. “How about Dick. Dick Bob Jones.”

“That sounds like a hillbilly name.”

“Yep.” ________

According to your mother, your apartment is “charming,” the streets of Bogotá are “interesting,” and the department headquarters are “surprisingly up to date.” In the car on the way to the office, you managed to dodge most of her questions about your personal life, dropping one-word answers before pointing out the window and explaining certain buildings or neighborhoods.

As promised, Agents Murphy and Peña are out in the field when you walk your parents past their desks on your way through to your own department. “Well,” you wave with half commitment at it and move on, “looks like he’s out doing his job and catching those bad guys. Too bad. Maybe next time.”

The crisis is momentarily averted, but while your father ducks into a nearby restroom, your mother can’t seem to let the matter pass.

“So what does he do then? He’s a cop?”

“I told you. He’s a DEA agent. He’s on the team trying to stop the drug trade from reaching the States. Have you heard of Pablo Escobar?”

She scoffs and looks past you. “Everybody has heard of Pablo Escobar, dear. That naughty man. Oh. Oh! Is that him?”

“Hmm? Escobar?” Following her gaze and turning to look back into the atrium, you’re gifted the sight of tight jeans stretching over a familiar backside and tanned arms yanking open drawers on Steve’s desk, obviously looking for something. “No, Mom, that’s just–”

But before you can correct her, she’s striding over in her Prada heels, ruffled blouse bouncing and pearls clicking, reaching forward into an eager handshake as she interrupts the very visibly hurried agent. “It’s so nice to meet you!” she chirps. “You must be Harvey!”

“Mother–!”

Javi stops digging, having found the warrant he was looking for, looking up in surprise at this forward, fussy, American woman, his lower lip hanging in a soft V, before taking her hand courteously and introducing himself, “Javi.”

“Oh, I knew I was right! The minute I saw you I knew you had to be her Harvey, you’re certainly her type.” Her hospitable countenance flickers only for a second as she takes in his tight shirt. “She says you’re quite the cop.”

“Mom, Javi’s a government agent and–” As you catch up to her, the momentary confusion on Javi’s face melts into understanding spiced with just a hint of amusement. “--and, as you can see, he’s in a hurry so–”

“It’s okay,” he beams, continuing to shake your mother’s hand. “I can take a minute to meet the woman who raised mi milagra.”

What.

Something in your brain hits the panic button and your mother chatters on to him as your backup generators whir into gear. He gives her his full attention, smiling as she babbles about how proud she and your father are of you and how nice it is that you’ve found someone to spend time with and…did he just say–

“We’ve got a lead on a collaborator and I was just ducking in to grab some paperwork,” he explains, waving the warrant in one hand. But his other hand– “What a lucky coincidence” –dips behind you– “that you happened to stop by,” –slides across your back– “because my girl here has told me so much about you,” –settles on your hip– “ma’am,” –and pulls you flush to his side.

It’s a smirk. A smirk that he has the brazen balls to grace you with then, and it’s hard to tell if he’s fucking with you or if he’s just really enjoying being your hero and sharing a joke that only the two of you know about.

And it’s equally hard to tell if you’re about to laugh or swear or….melt… he’s holding you so tightly and he smells like cigarettes and his surprisingly light cologne… his shirt is damp, your blouse is damp, it’s a humid day and you’re sticking together a bit and he wears such fitted clothes and one of his few buttons is strained enough to give you a peek at his smooth chest beneath…

“Well, if you have to go, Harvey, I don’t want to distract you from your work, but my husband is using the facilities and he’ll be sorry to have missed you. Will you be working all evening? Why don’t you come join us for dinner! You know how well my daughter cooks and she’s making her carbonara for us–”

“Mom–”

“Your carbonara?” Javi questions you before turning back to your mother and squeezing you tighter against himself, causing you to stumble closer. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Her delight is evident. “Oh wonderful!”

“If you’ll excuse me though, my partner’s waiting. I’ll see you tonight, honeybunny.”

The world tingles a moment as a mustache and warm lips bush your temple and then you’re watching broad shoulders and slim hips swagger away from you and up the stairs.

Honey…bunny? Honeybun–

Fuck.

“Javi! Wait!” You hold up a hand as you pass your mother. “Stay here for a second, I have to…I forgot to tell him… uh…”

He stops at the top of the stairs, leaning in, anticipating your quiet brand of ire. “Your mom’s sweet.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“What. Seems to be going well, I mean, apparently, I am your type, so it all works out. I think that performance down there earned me a dinner. I fucking love a good carbonarra.” The glare you serve him loses its bite under his soft smile lacking in any sarcasm or hazing. This is the Javi you know, the conspirator that finds you working late at night and is grateful for your help in the file room or in the microfiche lab, the one that noticed yesterday that your dress was new. Doing you a favor. What else would you expect? “If you want, I’ll wear baggier pants.”

“No, just…” you sigh. “I should give you my address–”

There’s a thing he does with his smile, something that gets you every time, a little jaw tick that comes with a quick downward bounce of the eyes and a single shake of the head. “Don’t need it. I know.”

“Okay, but…. Wait. What?” You call after him as he trots toward the door.

“I’ll come hungry!” _____

“Sir,” Javi bobs his head in reverence as he meets your father’s handshake. It’s above and beyond your requests, as is the cleanup of the five-o-clock shadow, the change to his black button up shirt, and his showing up on time. And in true commitment to the bit, he didn’t even knock, just came in and found his way to the dining area like he spends most of his time in your apartment.

“Good to meet you, Javi.”

“Dear,” your mother chirps from her watchful eye at your shoulder by the stove, “it’s Harvey.” She doubts herself. “It is Harvey, isn’t it?”

Completely disregarding your mother’s interjection, your dad gestures to a spot across from him at your modest dining table set for four and offers him a packet. “Sit down, sit down, agent. Smoke?”

“Ah,” Javi falters, and when you turn your head to your shoulder, you catch him checking in with you out of the corner of your eye. “She…doesn’t let me light up in here.”

“No? Heh. Well. I don’t know how she does it but it’s always been her way or no way. I see she’s worked her magic on you.”

“That’s for sure.”

You can’t help but smile as you give the noodles another good swirl in the pot and set the spoon on the counter. That little display just earned him a treat. Pulling out two glasses from the cabinet, you give a generous pour of the whiskey you picked up on the way home especially for him and bring them over to the table without a word for the two men.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” hums your father.

Javi glances at the glass, then up at you and your cocked eyebrow that queries him don’t I get a ‘thank you sweetheart’ from you too?

But oh, he came to play.

Ignoring the glass and taking your hand, his thumb skips across your knuckles. “You need any help, hon?”

There’s a microsecond between you where laughter is very very possible. The game is on. So you up the stakes by pushing a little curl of black hair behind his ear before trailing your fingers down to pinch his chin. “No, baby. You just relax and enjoy yourself.”

The smallest flush of pink and flash of panic that you catch on him as you turn away (only because you’re looking for it) tells you that you’ve won this round.

Back at the stove, your mother’s taken over, having drained the noodles and now attempting to pour the sauce into the noodle pot rather than your tried-and-true method of bringing the pasta to the sauce pan.

“Mom! Could you not–”

You see it coming a second too late, the sauce hasn’t thickened properly and a good portion of it misses the pot and splashes onto her blouse.

There’s commotion, a shriek and an overreaction, and you reach for a towel to catch the sauce before it stains, but the towel is dirty with spills and bacon grease and you’re both trying to keep the sauce pot from toppling off the stove. “Just…hold still, Mom, here…let me get a clean towel–”

“I’m on it,” Javi jumps up, heading down the hallway.

Great. Here’s another thing splitting your attention from timing the sauce. “Javi??” you call, “The towels are–”

“I know! The cabinet behind the door!”

How did he….doesn’t matter. The woman who raised you is in need of someone to mother her at the moment and you’re doing your best to calm her down before she causes even more of a mess. In a matter of moments, your stand-in man is back with a hand towel and you join her at the sink to help her dab it off.

“Oh, well this is just dandy,” she whines. “Now I have to sit here in a wet blouse in nice company…”

“It’s fine, Mom. You can wear one of mine.”

“The pink one or the blue? She can change in the bedroom,” Javi gestures, offering to show the way. “Ma’am?”

“Uh…the…blue….” This time you don’t have time to veil your shocked and confused expression. If Javi truly notices it as your mom swans by him, he doesn’t let on.

The rest of the evening is uneventful and pleasant, your father and Javi carrying most of the conversation as the older man drills the agent on the particulars of the cartels and Escobar’s influence with his communities, how it’s affecting customs and trade, and what that means for the conference your father is here to attend in his duty to the Trade Rep.

After a couple of hours, he makes it known that it’s time to get back to the hotel, that he has an early morning as his boss is flying in.

“Already? Dear! You boys spent all this time talking shop and I have all kinds of questions for Haaavi.”

“Well, my bride, you’re just going to have to wait to satisfy your curiosity. I’m sure it will keep.”

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?” Javi asks just as you take a sip of water and try your best not to choke on it. “If you’d like to try some of the local specialties, I know a place not far from here. Sancocho to die for, made fresh every day.”

The fire in your eyes is shielded, soft, but directed straight at the side of his face, hot enough that he can surely see it from his periphery if not feel the flames. The corner of his mustache rises the smallest fraction of an inch.

“That sounds a real treat, son,” your father says, rising and crushing Javi’s shoulder in a squeeze. “Tomorrow night then.”

Javi joins you at the front window when they leave so you can wave them off, having the balls to wrap his arm around your shoulder as you do. Once their car pulls away into the night though, he retracts it and ambles back to the table, gathering up a few stray plates and taking them to the sink. “Well, that went well.”

When you don’t answer, he turns to find you with a level expression and your arms folded across your chest. “What was that?”

He has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“We are going to address tomorrow night in a minute, but I’d love for you to explain to me why you know the location and the layout of my apartment, Agent Peña.”

Now he catches up, nodding slowly and returning to you at the window. With one hand on a hip and the other pointing to the nearest streetcorner, he explains, “Did you see that car that pulled out of there after your parents? Security. I sat in a car in that exact spot for three weeks after you were appointed to the agency. Couple days while you were at work,” he waves a hand, gesturing to the apartment as a whole, “I spent quite a few hours in here on a deep scan for taps.”

Now it’s your turn to carry the surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Standard procedure for government employees to be shadowed for a probationary period, eliminates the suspicion of inside involvement. You got a deluxe security detail treatment on top of it because…well. Your…family’s connection to Washington.”

He’s kind enough to wait for you to process this. “Wait. You mean,” peering outside at the location he indicated, noting the straight-line view into your living room, “you watched me? For three weeks???”

He turns back in search of his glass. “You dance when you’re happy. You could stand to be happy more often.” Giving you the time it takes for him to pour another finger of whiskey to stew over this, to grind through the gears of your mind and work out if you might have done anything embarrassing under the gaze of the DEA, he finally assures you, “Don’t sweat it. You’re usually a stickler for keeping your curtains closed. It was about as uneventful as a watch is possible to be.”

“So this is what they pay their agents to do? Babysit a government employee’s daughter? That seems below your pay grade.”

He downs the drink and shrugs. “I was lower on the pole back then.”

“Not that low.” But then…. The jaw tick presents itself again. His lack of eye contact confirms a sudden suspicion. “My…father paid for it.”

His nod hangs silent and sorry between you.

Independence. That’s why you took this job. Something you thought you could do on your own without your father’s help, run away from America, go live abroad and work somewhere new, somewhere exotic. How naive to think–for three years now–that you’ve done all this on your own.

The embarrassment burns.

Javi slowly runs a finger over a plate, raising a dollop of sauce to his tongue. “This is good. You’re a hell of a cook, Sully.”

It’s meant to lift your spirits, make you feel accomplished at something in your life. It’s appreciated.

“Thanks. It’s not that complicated.” Moving past him into the kitchen, you pick up your tongs from the counter and quietly start heaping half of the leftover meal into a bowl. “What’s this place you’re taking us to tomorrow? You’ve seen what a holy terror my mom is about food.”

He comes to lean against the refrigerator. “Dos Rosas Cocina.”

“I know it. Good choice. Atmosphere’s… rustic, but the food’s amazing.” Tying the bowl up in a clean towel and placing it in his hands, you sigh, all the stupid, terrible tension you didn’t know you were holding this evening seeping its way out. “I can’t believe you’re electing to spend more time on this little act.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t remember thanking you, but thank you.”

“What’s this?”

“Leftovers. Lunch. Enjoy.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“You’d better.”

Later, after the dishes are done and the leftovers stowed, you curl up on the couch with the novel you’re battling your way through. But not a single page is turned. An hour goes by as you think through the interviews and steps you took to get this job, to land your working visa, to find this apartment in a nice part of town, how easy it had all seemed at the time, how accomplished you’d felt. And then there was that little look of realization and regret in Javi’s eye. That he knew. That he was the one that slipped and let you figure it out, that he never told you before. That nobody told you before. Had you come off as stupid in that moment? Innocent? Naive?

You need to confront your father about it. Probably not tomorrow, not in front of Javi. But soon.

Dammit.

You’re not getting any reading done so you turn off the light and head to bed.

Your pajamas are folded and the bed’s been meticulously remade.

Of course.

No wonder it took longer than it should have for your mother to change her blouse.

How is it you get to be a grown ass adult and your parents will never see you as anything but their little girl, even at this age?

________

“Soooooo, how’d you two meeeeet?”

Having arrived early at Dos Rosas Cocina, Javi already has a drink in him, so your mother’s question earns a contented smile. “Well–”

“At work, Mom. Obviously at work.”

It’s not a lie. It was at your desk. He needed something notarized and your new stamp hadn’t arrived yet so he wrote his direct extension on your desk pad, asked you to ring him when it did. You remember thinking that his eyes wandered too much but couldn’t be mad when you realized yours must have too if your first impression was that his pants were a good fit.

Later that night you’d come here, to the Cocina, charmed by its walls lined with picture frames full of the owner’s ancestors and descendants, how it seemed to be the center of time itself reaching backward in it’s colorful mountain-style decor and forward in its state of the art cashier’s computer and cd jukebox.

The owner had served your meal himself and sat down to chat with you, to practice his English, he said. It was a slow night and you had nowhere to be and he put you at ease right away.

“Dos Rosas,” he explained, “it means two roses. You see the sign? One red, one white. You know what it means?”

You shook your head and smiled, mouth full of some heavenly empanada.

“The red rose is for love. The white rose for friendship. Dos Rosas is a place my father made where he wanted guests to come with love and friendship.” And then he produced a single white rose, slipping it into the vase on the table. “For your luck. You are welcome here, friend. Someday you will bring someone who will share a red one with you, si?”

It had been a favorite place ever since.

Javier had been there that night too, now that you remember it. Sitting in the dim corner away from the basket lamps, nursing a beer and a plate of arepas, the curtain of his cigarette smoke nearly hiding him from view. Back then he was just the agent who needed some papers stamped and who just happened to be at the same restaurant that night.

Hindsight and new information reframes the nearly-forgotten memory now. Of course. He must have been tailing you then.

“I think,” Javi says as he drapes an arm across the back of your cane chair and leans in, “she understands where, milagra. But what she wants to know is that I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

Your response comes with a sweet smile that hides a challenge. “I know. You watched me for three weeks straight.”

“And then some.” He doesn’t let your jab throw him off the act. “And then there were the times I had to get into the file room for nothing in particular, just a reason to come down and talk to her.”  On the contrary, he hooks a foot around the leg of your chair and yanks it closer to his own, effectively throwing you against his chest. “She used to laugh at my flirting; made fun of me, thought I wasn’t serious.”

The clench of your stomach, the cold wave of your blood pressure dropping, every method your body has to signal and react to danger begins to take over as Javi keeps you locked from pulling away with one arm, hazy smile inches from your face, his  heavy-lidded gaze dropping to your mouth.

A warm hand folds gently over one of your own, floating it upward, his fingertips guiding your palm until he ducks his head half an inch to meet your knuckles to his lips. Big brown eyes beg at you and that cold wave rebounds now as a hot tsunami.

And all you can do is stare, stare at this display of tenderness that seems so very unlike the Javier Peña you know. Gone is the indifferent agent, the shielded ego, the preference for solitary. As his kiss lingers on your hand just a second longer than necessary, you get a glimpse behind the curtain to the man beyond. For one moment you witness a vulnerability and care, a fleeting tease of what it must be like to have his perfect attention, his devotion. It’s literally breathtaking.

And then something in him stalls, shifts, as if he notices the same in you.

Is he going to kiss you? Should you kiss him? Right here in front of your mother? Why is he so warm? What is that amazing cologne? Is his shirt unbuttoned further than usual? Is that a cymbal roll in the music coming from the jukebox or is that your blood rushing in your ears? Does he always breathe this forcibly? How have you never noticed that little crease in his bottom lip or realized just how dark his eyes were?

Just as his tongue flicks forth to wet his lips, your father returns from the phone booth in the back.

“Well, false alarm. Seems the ambassador just had some bad fish, but it’s passing. Conference is still on.”

Oblivious to your predicament and drawing your mother’s attention, he’s happy to answer her questions regarding the type of fish and how long it was prepared, and she offers her wisdom to nobody in particular as to preventing such a thing as food poisoning. Neither of them notice as you slowly twist yourself out of Javi’s loosening clutches and both of them obviously assume your hasty retreat has more to do with wanting to powder your nose than calm your racing heart.

The restroom is one small room, looking like a much older sibling to the restaurant itself as if it had been built first and the rest of the building added later. You count fifteen cracks in the wall over the solitary, rust-stained toilet before a knock falls on the door, momentarily spiking your softening anxiety. It’s an old man’s voice enquiring in Spanish if you’d fallen in.

You’re far from convinced that you’re ready to face or deny whatever’s going on in your heart. But you wash your hands–one of them still stubbornly holding the tingle of Javi’s lips and mustache against it–surrender the room, and find your way back to the table where the man who is not your boyfriend leans forward on his elbows, spinning stories for your parents.

“But we’re zeroing in on him now. He’s made more than a few mistakes and we’ve just barely caught them by turning around at the right second. It’s only a matter of time.”

A smile pulls wide over your father’s face as he leans back in his chair. “That’s what I like to hear. Damn, son. I admire your tenacity. We’re lucky we have talented young men like you down here catching the bad guys.”

“And we’re also lucky to have you here looking after our daughter,” your mother helps.

“Thanks, Mom, I can take care of myself. I mean, that is,” To one side, you feel Javi’s focus tilt your way, “as long as Dad’s willing to pay for it, I guess.”

Silence blankets the table as the waiter sets down four bowls of sancocho, a plate of flatbread, a candle, and a red rose in a vase in front of you all before hastily retreating.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Staring at the rose and trying to sort out your thoughts, you’re not sure why you chose this moment to bring up the subject. Maybe your body is just in fight or flight mode and perhaps you’re diverting your fluster to this deep-seated frustration. Something is shaking the cage of your heart and wants out, wants to cause some damage–

–but Javi’s hand comes to a gentle rest on your knee, soothing whatever savage beast had awakened, somehow turning frustration and fear into calm strength instead.

“I know about the money, Dad. I appreciate the help, I really do. But it’s okay. You don’t have to pay anyone to babysit me and pull strings just to make my life easier here. I came to Colombia to challenge myself. I can’t do that if you’re sneaking in and slapping training wheels on me all the time.”

For a split second it looks as if he’s going to deny it, play dumb. Instead, he softens.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ll have to forgive me. Your mother and I can’t help but look out for you. It’s what we’ve done all your life. It’s a hard habit to break.”

The confirmation stings, but you can’t deny that you set yourself up for it. “Did you do the same for Kennie?”

“Your sister has a husband and a family. She doesn’t need us to look after her anymore.”

A frustration wells up inside, burning, humiliating, full of futility. It doesn’t matter what you accomplish, how many times you have to prove yourself, they’re just not going to change. They’re never going to overcome what their generation has held as truth all their lives, even past the recent wave of feminism and push for equality. They’ll never ever see you as complete unless there’s a man involved. There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.

And perhaps that’s the conclusion that makes Javi’s actions feel like the only heroic course as he rubs a side hand over your back and explains, “Sir, you don’t have to worry about her. She’s capable. Thriving. She’s in no danger here. If there were any threat at all, she could hold her own. And even so, I’d do my best to make sure trouble never came near her.”

“Oh, Haaavi. You’re so good to her. She’s so lucky to have you.”

With a defensive flick of a hand, he continues. “It’s not luck, ma’am. And it’s not goodness. It’s simply part of my job. Even if she was nothing to me but another clerk that’s too smart and too bold for her position, I’m an agent first. As a U.S. citizen and employee of the DEA, I’m going to put her life before my own. With all due respect–and I’m sorry to be so blunt–but to doubt that she or any American isn’t safe here is an insult to Colombia, to me, and all government agents on a professional level.”

The hard drag of conviction in his tone. The realization on your parents’ faces. The understanding sinking in. The steadying warmth of his arm around you.

“But she doesn’t need me. She doesn’t need anyone. Most self-sufficient and confident woman I’ve ever known. I’m the lucky one; lucky she’s bored enough to keep me around. Must be for entertainment.”

Wow.

And all at once, you regret that you hadn’t taken the chance to kiss Agent Javier Peña. ________

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a ride back to her apartment, son? It’ll be faster.”

“Thank you, sir, but I’d like to walk her home.”

Javi takes your hand in his, waving at your parents with the other, and quietly pulls you away from the car window down the dark street toward your place.

Half a minute later he’s still silent. And still holding your hand.

It feels awkward not to let go. And yet rude to do so. So you find a middle ground and squeeze instead, “Thank you. For that. Back there. I hate that I have no power to convince them of my autonomy on my own, but I think they just needed to hear it from…”

Who? A man? A government employee? A “cop”? A workaholic who is cranky most of the time because he disregards his own health and safety and refuses to sleep in his never-ending quest to quash every last cokeslinger within a thousand-mile area?

His nod and squeeze in return says he knows. “You know it’s love, right?”

Your heart trips over his words. “What?”

“Your parents love you. Doesn’t matter how old you get. Doesn’t matter how far you run. Doesn’t matter how long the flight is and how repulsive they find the local guaro, they’re gonna love you.”

In the shared laughter that follows, your hands naturally part and you double over, remembering the look on your mother’s face after tasting the aniseed liquor Javi ordered for her.

“It was so beautiful!” you crow. “She tried so hard to smile and be polite…and the tears! You could almost see the fumes pushing out of her tear ducts!!!”

“It broke my heart to do it to her, but she insisted I order for her–!”

It’s not often you see Javi laugh and smile–really smile–with unrestrained joy. Playful smirks, weary grins, the occasional shy blush perhaps, yes. But it’s not until this moment that you see him genuinely happy. It takes years off him, as if he’s shed responsibility like a coat and gone skinny-dipping into life for a minute. His eyes crinkle deeply when he truly smiles, they shine and sparkle. Like stars on this dim street.

The giggles and chuckles continue as you near your block and it’s in a resurgence of his that he casually just reaches out and takes your hand again, as if dropping it had been a little mistake that needed correcting.

And suddenly, it doesn’t feel so awkward. It should be, but it’s not. It’s like you both decided it doesn’t have to be and yet, it doesn’t have to mean anything either. If anything, a shared happiness. A familiarity.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

“Hmm?” His attention is slowly returning to the street, constantly scanning, every second a chance to gather information, find the next piece of the druglord puzzle.

“This. Being the perfect boyfriend. Having someone’s parents just think the god’s ass of you for once. Playacting chivalry.”

That last bit sobers him. “Yeah, well, at least I can put on a good show.”

There’s something in the response that rings…tired. You’ve hit on some old hurt, some buried regret. Knowing Javi, addressing it would only cause him to close off and dig it in deeper.

“Well, I’m enjoying it. I feel like I’m getting good value for all of the favors I’ve done for you and prettyboy Murphy. You’re good at this. A girl could get used to it. That story you told my mother about how we met? Let nobody tell you that you don’t go above and beyond in every way, Agent Peña.”

You can’t see the little grin that pulls at the far corner of his mouth, but you know it’s there. An eyebrow cocks. “So you’re saying my tab’s clear? I can put in a new order to the miracle worker?”

“Order up,” you laugh. “After all, now that I know Dad’s pulling strings, who’s gonna fire me? Bring your worst shenanigans!”

It doesn’t have quite the reaction you expect from him and he stops just short of the steps to your apartment building, deep grooves forming between his brows. “You know, it’s not unusual; landing any job has a lot to do with who you know. Keeping it is the part that’s all you. Even if you didn’t get it on your own, you still made it your own.” When you can’t seem to meet his eyes, his tone softens. “You’ve got a lot to be proud of here. Why did you feel like you had to perfect some image of your life by toting me around?”

Flustered, you scoff and jump at the chance to dodge the question. “I’ll have you remember that I asked Steve, not you. You’re the one that jumped at a free meal.” It doesn’t work. His stance demands an honest answer, his face says it’s required more for your sake than his. “It’s… a long story. There are checkboxes in my family… my sister got married and had kids and I never did. I never really felt it was important… or that anyone would put up with my attitude. i’m not exactly the picture of perfect wife material. I mean, of course I’d like to find someone someday, but it’s never been the main goal… but my parents–”

“I couldn’t do it,” he says. Not an agreement; an admission. Simple. “I walked away from the altar. Left her standing. It just felt like there was a responsibility there to be ‘the husband’, and–like you said, same thing–check off the boxes. I didn’t know if I could check off the same ones everyone else thought were necessary.”

It takes a moment to say anything. To move past the fact that he’s just confided a piece of his past and his personal life to you. That he’s let you in. It explains a little about why he doesn’t get close to anyone, why he prefers feminine relations without hangups. Which makes this admission very weighted and precious. You see that he trusts you not to judge. And perhaps it’s his way of letting you know that you’re not alone in dodging the tried-and-true life path.

“Everyone had expectations. You thought you couldn’t be a good husband. So you ran away to join the DEA because you knew you could do that spectacularly.”

Now it’s him that can’t look at you. “I wouldn’t say that I’m doing that well–”

“Javi.” That catches his eye. “You’re a damn good agent. I know you’re going to get the job done. Why the hell do you think I’ll jump at the chance to break every rule in the goddamn department to help you do it? Like I said. Who’s gonna fire me now if I do?” Something shifts in him, like he’s been slapped or sharply woken. As if it’s something he’s been needing to hear and didn’t have the right person to tell him. You’re suddenly honored to be that for him. He needs it. And so you gift him a little more. “Obviously you don’t have to do everything by the book to be good at something. Look at the past couple of days. Thank you for being nice to my folks. And for the encouragement. That’s all it takes sometimes, you know? You’ve been a damn good stand-in boyfriend. Your little stunts included, you asshole. That’s what made it fun. I’m sure you would have been a great husband.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it with a tick of his jaw. Regrouping, he gives you a pained look to say, “I’m sorry that you feel you were lied to…with the surveillance and all. And that’s how you found out. I meant what I said back there, Sully.” He swallows. “All of it.”

It’s so serious and vulnerable, an obvious effort for him to say. He’s a good man, Javi. You’ve read the reports. You’ve heard the rumors. He may keep others from getting too close, may come off as flippant and impatient or pour his focus into his work. But his moral center is pointed in the right direction and he’s the first person to discard his own needs in favor of someone else.

It’s probably what overwhelms him–caring about others but not allowing anyone to care for him–bubbles up so far that he has to visit his girls to vent it. He says they’re his informants, everyone’s heard that, but nobody buys that’s all it is. He needs to be cared for, but the money keeps him safe, keeps the lines drawn. It’s an exchange he can allow himself to make.

Something about that suddenly twists your heart. You could ask him in. You could take care of him. It’s tempting. It’s what he needs.

But you’re not sure if the inevitable fallout and distancing is what you need right now. It would be too easy to want him to stay.

It’s fine to fall in love just a little with Javier Peña, as long as you don’t expect too much.

Instead, you squeeze his hand. Big and warm and gun-callused. “I know you did. Good night, hero. Thank you.”

He lets you go, this transaction settled. Doesn’t ask anything more. As you expected. The perfect gentleman. When he puts his mind to it.

________

You’ve lost count of your yawns.

Even though you brought leftover carbonara for lunch the following day, you need to escape. There’s twice as much work with the ambassador’s conferences, more calls coming through and the agents and policia all have their regular requests. And you didn’t sleep soundly the night before; something whining at the back of your mind, like something forgotten or missed… Every form and file feels like an effort and you’re just so out of it. If your mother were to stop by and take you out to lunch–a real possibility–that would just be too much.

Half an hour in the outdoor cafeteria should help, even if it’s another hot day. Air and sunshine are usually good revitalizers. And you can hide in the crowd.

Or so you thought. Just as you’re settling in with a bowl of rice and veggies, a long shadow falls across your bench and you look up to see broad shoulders and dark hair.

But the eyes you meet are blue.

“Hi, Jimmy.”

“Well hey there. Mind if I join you?”

Without waiting for an answer he perches on the bench next to you with his sandwich and starts talking. About nothing. About the heat. How it’s hot here, how it was hot back home in Arizona but nothing like the hot here. Humidity. Dry heat. Sweat. How he once baked a cookie on the dash of a car parked in the sun. How he never understood the calculations between fahrenheit and celsius, just that one is higher and one lower. Something about mercury in thermometers.

You stop listening after a minute and just chew and smile and nod. You’re not that lonely. Yet.

There’s a little old man who sells flowers from a bucket, sets up a little stall on the sidewalk across the other end of the courtyard. He’s out here most days. He’s out here today. Carnations, chrysanthemums, birds of paradise, roses…

You should get some flowers for your desk. Something nice. Might wake you up a little. You watch absently as the flower man speaks to someone in a tan shirt. A man with dark hair like so many others here. He looks like Javi from the back.

You’d rather not think about Javi’s back. Or front. Or deep brown eyes.

So you listen to Jimmy ramble for a while before he finally asks you a question.

“Don’t you think it’s hot?”

“Yeah, Jimmy. It’s hot.” _______

“I’ll take one red and one white, por favor.”

The little old flower man’s smile is even warmer up close.

On your way back into the office you muse that you’ll put the roses in a vase and let them decide for you, depending on which one lasts longer. Do you really feel the need to entertain the possibility of infatuation? Or can you be content with the easy friendship you have?

But upon arriving at your desk, you find that your little bouquet will be unbalanced and one of the two choices will have twice the advantage.

There’s already a red rose laying on the credenza.

Next to a bowl that held carbonara leftovers when last you saw it.

And a note. Fast scratches on a torn piece of yellow steno paper. Probably from the ripped piece on your desk. Next to your pen.

“I meant all of it, Sully.”

Suddenly the clack of keyboards and whine of printers and ring of phones fades away. You lift the little note to read it again. “All of it.” As if the words aren’t enough, as if you need more empirical evidence–or maybe because it was with the flower–for some odd reason you bring it close to your nose only to confirm what you knew you’d smell there.

Rose. And cigarettes.

All of it? That’s the last thing he said last night. I meant what I said back there, Sully. All of it.

It had been a heartening thing to hear, reinforcing how he would protect and serve, how he thought you were competent and confident, but why remind you now–

Oh.

Oh. Not just that part.

All of it.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. And then there were the times I had to get into the file room for nothing in particular, just a reason to come down and talk to her. She used to laugh at my flirting; made fun of me, thought I wasn’t serious.”

Suddenly you understand what was keeping you awake last night.

The look on his face as he stood by your steps. The way he rethought the words before he spoke. It wasn’t easy for him. He tried to tell you and you just…

All of it.

You just thanked him and walked away.

He’s been…this whole time…he’s…

“Darling?”

Yanked from one confusion to another, you turn to find your mother rounding your desk–even though you told her not to, that only government officials are supposed to be around your files–coming to take your hand.

“Your father and I are going on a tour of the city with the Representative. I dropped by to see if you’d like to join us.”

“Hi Mom. No… no, thanks. I’m…swamped today. I’m sorry.”

She coos, worriedly. “Are you alright? You seem tired. Those are pretty…”

Blinking down at the roses in your hand and stepping slightly to the side to shield her view of the third on your credenza, you agree, “Yeah, just tired today. It’s the heat. Here,” handing her the flowers, you smile. “The red one is for you. Please give the white one to the Representative’s wife. I hope you have a nice tour.”

“Oh. Thank you, dear…but…how did you know I was coming?”

“I didn’t. There’s a nice old man who sells them. Sometimes I buy some to cheer up my desk.”

“You’re buying your own flowers? We should stop by Haavi’s desk and tell him he needs to do that for you.”

“Oh. No need. He does.”

Once she’s on her way, you swing out to the atrium, but find Steve and Javi’s desks unoccupied. There was talk of a situation on the east side of the old town, no doubt the whole department will be out most of the afternoon.

Good. Maybe you can get some work done.

Still carrying the note, you flip it over on Javi’s desk and scribble five words with the same pen–

You know where I live.

–tuck it under his typewriter with just the tiniest corner sticking out, and head for the coffee room. One cup and three more work hours should shrink that stack of paperwork on your desk.

If you can just shut it all out and concentrate.

And try not to expect too much. ________

The door to your apartment is unlocked when you get home. Well, he certainly jumped at your note.

It shouldn’t surprise you. There’s got to be department keys in some file somewhere. After all, how could he have done all that snooping around when you first got the job?

Dropping your bag and keys on the table in the hall, you head for the main room. “Javi? You here?”

Heart ramming against your ribcage, you emerge into the apartment…

…and find your parents seated at your dining table. Waiting.

“Mom. Dad. How…how did you get in?”

“Your father talked to the landlord. It wasn’t difficult, dear. We wanted a word.” Even though there’s an endearment, your mother’s tone is anything but.

“Okay. That’s kind of excessive. You could have just swung by my desk, you know where I–”

“This is a more delicate matter and we thought you might appreciate the privacy,” your father grumbles. “Sit down, sweetheart.”

There are two things on the table. Your mother’s purse, and a box of tissues. Not the brand you own. Provided for.

“I don’t think I will. What’s going on?”

They share a glance, a starting gesture as if to choose who will begin, even though it was always going to be your mom.

“We had a very nice tour of the city today. We saw the opera house and the capital. It’s a beautiful city. You must really like it here–”

“Representative wanted to go into some of the deeper parts of the city,” your father interrupts, already going off book it seems, “to see the neighborhoods that really reflect the majority economy, get a feel for the true people of Colombia.”

What’s this all about. There’s a silence. Of course there is. They’re waiting for you to prod them. “The old town. I know it. It can get rough, but mainly only if you’re already involved in something shady.”

“Well, there’s plenty that’s shady there, I’ll tell you.” Your mother’s nose lifts more than slightly. “Did you know that it’s crawling with brothels?”

“I do, actually. There are a lot of women who don’t have any other way–”

“Well, Haavi certainly knows about those brothels. We saw him coming out of one today.”

Oh. Shit.

Wait. What?

Fuck.

Your mother continues, something about being sorry to be the one to tell you, something about your heart and how it must be breaking, how it’s hard to be lied to….

The tissues sit on the table, a pretty pink box with daisies on it. They expect you to break down. Cry. How good of an actor are you?

“...and if you want to come home for a while, you know you are always welcome–”

Not good enough.

“Javi’s not my boyfriend, Mom.”

The silence that follows is thick, it mingles with the humidity, curdles it like cream in the air. You let it sit until it sours.

“He posed for me so you wouldn’t worry about me here. Like you always do. As if I could never make it on my own without someone.” Their shock sustains. The quieter they become, the easier it gets. “And Javi went along with it because he works with me. Day in and day out. If anyone ever thought I was in danger here, or couldn’t hack the agency, he’d be the first to say so. And I trust him.” Your mother opens her mouth to run her tongue, but you cut her off at the pass. “I trust that man. Yes, you saw him coming out of a brothel, but I’m not his girlfriend and he’s there for his job. Those women sleep with the people Javi’s trying to catch. It’s a brilliant tactic, actually. And they trust him too. Because he is good to them. He’s a good man; one of the best I know and deserves respect. He takes care of them and protects them as much as he would anyone else. You should have seen what he did for this girl Helena–”

It’s here that you notice something out of the corner of your eye and turn to find Javi standing silent in the hallway, still close enough to the door that your parents can’t see him around the corner into the room. But you can. Wide eyes. That tight fitting tan shirt. Slightly off balance as if he came to a stop immediately at the knowledge of walking in on something.

Why do you feel….caught?

“Anyway,” turning back to your parents with a sigh, “I appreciate your concern. But you don’t have to be. Not about him, not about me, not about anything. I’m sorry I lied. It just seemed…easier. Because you have never just believed I was fine. I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Like Javi said the other night, I’m thriving here. Even if he was posing, everything he said was true…”

But if everything he said was true…

A glance to the hallway finds it empty again. Even if the door is slightly ajar.

“Well. You can’t blame us for wanting the best for you, sweetheart. You’re never going to stop being our daughter.”

“I know, Dad. You keep saying that. It’s right there on my birth certificate.”

“There’s no shame in accepting help if it’s given freely and if it helps you achieve a goal.”

“I understand that, but I really wish you’d told me about it rather than let me think I did it all on my own. Do you understand how that feels? To be lied to?”

Your mother huffs. “I do now.”

Thank god for office coffee. Without the edge taken off of your exhaustion, you might have had more bite. But for now, you’ve said what was necessary and you’re not up for a fight or managing their feelings; you have enough of your own to sort out. If they care about you as much as they say they do, they’ll let what you’ve said sink in and not push the matter.

“Are you flying out tomorrow morning or afternoon?”

“Tomorrow morning, sweetheart.”

You nod and move into the kitchen. Seems they do care. You have to give them credit. “Okay. Do you want some dinner? I’ve got leftovers.”

“We have a dinner scheduled with the ambassador.”

“Well good. I’ve had a long day and I’m really tired. I probably wouldn’t be good company anyway. You’re coming back in for the trade agreements in January?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good. I’ll get to see you for a whole week then.” The sad smiles you exchange with them signal that everything’s going to be okay. For now.

There are hugs and kisses, a wish for safe travels and a promise to call in the coming days. Your mother apologizes loudly for cleaning your bathroom mirror. Your father apologizes softly for your mother’s volume. This time, you walk them all the way out to the street.

Your mother’s halfway to the car when your father doubles back, digging in his pocket, just barely remembering to give you the key he got from the landlord.

Or maybe he didn’t really forget.

“Your mother and I are proud of you, sweetheart. I’m sorry if we gave the impression that we weren’t.”

“Thanks, Dad. It’s good to hear.”

“I should have said it sooner.” He hovers as your mother gets into the car. “You tell Javi that it was nice to meet him. And that we’re proud of the work he’s doing here too.”

There’s something in the way he tells you this. Another apology. Or a knowing. You’ve never been sure with Dad.

“I will.”

As they pull away, waving, your plan is to go collapse on your couch and just be alone for a minute.

As you come back into your apartment, you have to amend that plan to collapsing on your couch next to Javier Peña.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You heard all of that?”

He doesn’t answer the question. You sink in, lean back, let your eyes close. He sighs.

“You mind if I smoke?”

“I do, actually. You know I do. And I don’t have an ashtray. There’s still some whiskey if you want though. Knock yourself out.”

The couch shifts a bit as he gets up. The pop of cabinet doors. The clink of ice against glass. After a few seconds, the couch shifts again and a cool tumbler slides gently against your hand.

You open your eyes to ice water.

“Thanks.” You take a long drink, not knowing what to say. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I never do. Bed’s too big. Sleep better when I’m not alone.” When you look him in the eye, he knows enough not to turn away. “One of the girls was called into one of Escobar’s regular haunts. Didn’t see him, but got a good look at some clients he’s courting. It was info worth delivering a retainer. And a final thanks.”

You do your best to keep your hope from shining through your cracks. “Final thanks?”

“Yeah. For all the…help in the past couple of years. Told them there’s a woman I’d like to spend some time with. Get to know better.”

The sly smile spreading across your face will not be contained. “Really. You told your informants that you were shoving off to the boring world of dating.”

“No. But I did let them know that if there’s a next time I darken their door, I won’t be in a very good mood. I don’t have a Jimmy to turn to if this doesn’t work.”

“Oh. So that was you today in the courtyard. That’s what inspired this? You jealous of Jimmy?”

“Nothing to be jealous of. He’s not your type. But. It might have sped up the process.” When you don’t laugh at that, he sighs. “Listen. I’m not good at this.”

“Yes, you are, I told you that you arrrre,” you yawn and go after another sip. “But I’m the one who’s going to be cranky and crap at it unless I take a nap. I’m sorry. It’s been a day.”

“Can I join you?” His dark eyes search yours as you empty the tumbler.

There’s something like a hope there. And something else, not quite an apology, not quite yearning, a worry that he’s going to do this right or die trying and he waited far too long to start.

Like he’s fighting the urge to expect too much.

“I said a nap, Peña.”

“Good. We were called in early. I could use it.”

It comes naturally. A smile. A matching smile. A whispered okay. He leans forward and slowly, softly, presses his lips to yours. Lingers a moment. Traces your nose–one side then the other–with his own.

“And what happens when we wake up?” you ask quietly in the space between you, in the space before the next slow, lingering kiss.

Javi stands, wraps three fingers around your glass and lifts it gracefully out of your grasp. Setting it on the end table, he reaches for your hand to help you up. “This is technically the third date, isn’t it? We could just…check off the usual boxes.”

“I think we established that I don’t especially love to do everything by somebody else’s rulebook.” Using the inertia of you coming off the couch to pull you straight into his arms and into a deeper kiss--one full of holding breath and clutching fingers--he chases it with a nip to your lip, which coaxes a chuckle. “But I’m open to actually following some rules for once. Especially the good ones.”

“Good. I think it’s time I worked you a miracle or two.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you. Well, lead the way. You obviously know where the bedroom is…”

He smirks, guiding you by the hand. “I’ll give you the tour.”

________

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

[j4desblurbs]

HURT YOU

sierra six (courtland gentry) x fem! reader

this man has been running laps in my brain since august so hope you enjoy 🫶 thank you to the loml @retrosabers for helping me with this

summary: six comes home wounded, and seeks comfort in your presence.

warnings: kissing, touching, description of injuries

word count: 1.2k

it had never been this bad.

sure, six had come home with injuries before. it was a part of the job, something that was expected, that you learned to get used to when you started dating him.

but the sight that confronts you now is something that you’d never imagined.

there’s a slight limp to his walk, like he’s favoring one side and doing his best not to show it. his nose is bleeding and looks broken, and there’s probably more under his clothes.

he stumbles through the doorway, trying his hardest to hide the true extent of his injuries. but even his bravest face can’t disguise the great deal of pain he’s clearly in. immediately, you rush to him, gingerly taking his face in your hands. you can feel him relax a little bit into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut at the relief of being home. of being back with you.

even though he was the one who was battered and bloodied, he took the time to ask, “you okay?”

you manage a feeble laugh, looking over him. “i’m fine. but you don’t look okay.”

“i’ll be alright.” he says, wincing slightly.

“court.”

he knows better than to deny you the truth when you use his real name. he lets out a heavy sigh as you lead him over to the bathroom.

“got ambushed in bogota.”

you sigh, helping ease his clothes off him as he sits down on the edge of the bathtub. you look over his injuries, clocking the bruises all over his torso and legs.

you know your way around his body. many nights spend tangled between the sheets, committing every inch of him to memory. you know something doesn’t feel right, no need to look at the blossoming purple on his side.

his rib is definitely broken.

“jesus christ.” you breathe out, trying your best to remain calm. you’re of no use if your hands start shaking.

you busy yourself by digging through the cabinet for the first aid kit, deciding to focus on the things you can handle. six knows you well enough to see through all your nervous ticks. his hand is warm when it wraps around your forearm, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. it’s a delicate gesture that stands in harsh contrast to the way he sits before you.

“hey.” he says, his tone soft. “it’s okay.”

you close your eyes and let out a puff of air through your nose. his other hand comes to rest against the back of your knee, gently nudging you closer to him.

“promise me that you’ll be more careful next time?”

you both know he can’t promise that. but he always promises it anyways. if it helps you sleep just a little bit better tonight, he would do just about anything.

six nods his head a bit glumly. “i promise.”

you then take care of all the smaller scratches and cuts and bruises, and it’s not long before all that’s left to cover is his broken nose, and the long bruise along his left side, purpling as time passes.

you hesitate to touch it again, recalling the way he flinched earlier. it’s like court can read your mind. he can tell from the wrinkle between your brows that you’re frustrated and unsure.

“there’s nothing you can do.” he tells you softly. “broken ribs just need to heal on their own.”

you frown. “but you won’t have ti-”

“i know i won’t have time.” he moves his hand from your shoulder to your hand, squeezing affectionately. “i just have to be careful, that’s all.”

tears well in your eyes. you hate that he has to do this. that he has to throw himself into mission after mission with barely any time to heal from the last one. knowing that the people he works for view him as disposable. you can’t fathom having anyone but six by your side, and it cuts you to your core knowing the people who put his life on the line don’t view him the same way.

his hand comes up and cups your face, his thumb brushing away a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

he says your name softly, gently moving your face to look at him.

“i’m okay.” he reassures you once more. your bottom lip trembles unwillingly, and it nearly brings tears of his own.

“i’m okay.” he repeats for a final time before your resolve finally crumbles. you collapse to the floor between his legs, and you let go of a wrecked sob.

you do your best to reign it in, not wanting to come undone, but you can’t muster enough energy to try.

this breakdown is just because of tonight. it’s been weeks, months even, of having knots in your stomach at the thought of six never coming home. never again being in his arms, never getting that sliver of softness he reserves for you, and only you, ever again.

he wraps his arms around you and hold you close to his chest, in spite of his injuries. he could deal with the pain of a broken bone. he didn’t think he could deal with the pain he feels responsible for.

“sweetheart.” he whispers, trying to get you to calm down as he wipes your tears with his thumb. “look at me.”

with tears still blurring your vision, you look up at him. even with your glassy eyes, you could see he was hurting just as much as you.

one of his hands reaches around to rub at the nape of your neck. “i’m not going anywhere.”

“six-“

“listen to me.” he’s a bit firmer now, but not mean. he knows it’s the only way to snap you out of it sometimes. “it’s going to take a lot more than a broken rib and a bullet hole to keep me away from you, you hear me? nothing could keep me from coming home to you.”

of course, the rational part of you knows that. six is too good at what he does to die, even if he does get injured regularly. despite this, you can’t help the nightmares, the sleepless nights, the constant fear that the next time you see six is in a body bag.

you don’t want to let that fear control you. not right now at least. there may only be a few hours left in today, but you’re going to make them worthwhile.

you pick yourself up off the floor, reaching for six to lead him to your bedroom. you know that you should probably clean up the first aid supplies, but frankly, you couldn’t care less. six rests on the edge of the bed as you find him a shirt, making sure not to disturb any of his wounds as you help him slip it on.

he slides under the covers, pulling you in the bed with him. as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, six presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, resting his chin there for a minute.

“i love you.” his voice is gravelly.

you place your hands over his, gently rubbing your thumbs in soft circles on his wrists. “i love you too.”

he pulls you even closer, cocooning his body around yours and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. you love moments like this; soft, domestic ones that you don’t get to have often because of how much six is away.

you hope that one day, these moments won’t be so fleeting.

[redxx95]

Tachibana & Kurosawa parallels that are making me go insane

Hey guys so I had some Thoughts that are not letting me go so I did some digging and now I'm gonna present yall with my findings. They are horrible. (Spoilers for volume 14)

So how this all started is me wondering if Kurosawa ever feels a little guilty about entering a relationship with Adachi, since things could've been a lot easier for him if he'd simply gone out with a woman (to him it would've been Fujisaki) instead. He often mentions Adachi could've been happy without him, after all.

Then I remembered this bit from the end of volume 14 about how Adachi doesn't know how to deal with advances because Kurosawa was always intercepting them for him and decided to properly translate all of it.

"Adachi felt guilty, but him not understanding the tactics of love or how to evade invitations is my fault. I don't want anyone to take him away, but I also don't want him to ever learn any of this. Of course I can't tell him that though."

Tactics of love, huh. You mean like...

Giving little compliments... (The phrasing here is almost the same in japanese except Tachibana is using polite speech)

Offering favors...

Invading personal space...

Going "hey you like this thing, why don't we do this thing together?" ...

Helping out when they're weak and vulnerable...

You mean tactics like that? Man it sure is convenient that Adachi remains blissfully unaware of any of this huh. Okay So. Before you raise your pitchforks at me, yes there's obviously some nuance in all of this. Kurosawa is doing all of this to befriend Adachi, first and foremost. He wants to be closer to him because he loves him. Tachibana (as far as I can tell) just wants to get in his pants lmao Also Adachi's a Grown Ass Man and can definitely make his own decisions, and it's not like he got really manipulated either, since he could read Kurosawa's thoughts and intentions the whole time. I could still see Kurosawa having some self-doubts about their relationship though, if he ever realizes that he might have "manipulated" Adachi into a relationship that is objectively worse for him, considering the alternative of being with a woman and completely evading all the problems they've had with homophobia. Not to mention that Adachi is clearly good with kids and might want some of his own, which is something he can't have with Kurosawa, since adoption requires couples to be married in Japan and gay marriage is illegal, as we know. What if Kurosawa ruined Adachi's chances to lead a happy life, for his own selfish reasons?

...

Now, here come my truly insane speculations about vol 15 and how this could tie in with drama around Matsuura :)

So on that last page she's clearly approaching Tachibana, who, as we can read pages before, wants to get black-out drunk to forget all his romantic woes. Which means he will be very talkative to a nosy Matsuura. There's no doubt in my mind that he'll reveal literally everything to her, how he wanted to go for this cute, inexperienced coworker named Adachi and how he got told to back off by his big scary boyfriend named Kurosawa. "Oh yea they work together at Toyokawa. I even told him it's really risky to date coworkers, can you believe it?!" Matsuura just goes "Oh that is Interesting."

She might even try to get under Kurosawa's skin by drawing parallels to his harassment in vol 1 and him pursuing Adachi, since Kurosawa has a higher position in their company and earns more, and Adachi being inexperienced. One could easily construe this as a power imbalance between them. Throw into the mix the issue of being "forced into a relationship that's looked down upon by society" and the looming threat of their relationship being revealed to their workplace and Kurosawa might truly spiral, maybe even breaking up with Adachi, just to fulfill yet another parallel to Tachibana.

Man would that be fucked up or what haha

[c-h-i-m-es]

fushiguro toji

context; reader with daddy issues having a not so romantic relationship with toji

"i knew i'd find you here." you say as you creep behind the older man, taking out a cigarette from the pack. he doesn't need to turn behind to know it's you.

of course he has your voice and scent memorized in his head. "why are you out so late?" he takes a sip of his beer.

you sit down close next to him, "i forgot my lighter." he sighs, taking one out of his pocket. finally turning to look at you, "is he drunk again?" he asks, lighting your cigarette.

you chuckle, "you're asking me that when you're almost drunk yourself?" he chuckles lowly, putting the lighter away and leaning back on the wall, "you know i have high tolerance."

you smile, taking a puff and stare ahead into nothing in particular, "it was getting annoying. staying in the house while they were arguing since.. like forever. geez when can i get some quiet in that house?"

he looks at you, then down at your outfit, noticing the short dress you are wearing, "were you going somewhere or justed wanted to dress up?"

you lean away, trying to show him your whole dress, "why? do i look pretty?" he sighs, shacking his head and looking away from you, "you'll catch a cold."

you scoff, taking another puff of smoke, "look at you trying act as if you're my father." you bring your legs to your chest, wrapping one hand around then and resting your head in your knees, "i was gonna go to this party my friend invited me to. but by the time i got there i didn't feel like it."

"hmm.. will you be going home tonight?"

"i don't know.. depends on my mood i guess." you giggle, putting out the cigarette in the ground and throwing it somewhere ahead, "you remember my friend brianna?" he takes a second to himself, "which one is that one again?"

"the one who likes the captain of volleyball team? please you tell me you remember." he takes another sip from his bottle, finishing it, "ah.. that one. yeah i do, i'm just not good with names. what about her?" he puts the bottle besides him, turning his head to you.

"they started dating." he didn't miss the way your voice dropped the energy from before, "and you don't like it?"

you hug your legs, resting your chin on your knee, trying not to look at toji, "no.. yeah? i mean i am happy for her. i did play a little matchmaking for them. but.. i kinda don't want them to be together?" 

you cover your face with your hands, letting out a sigh, "not because i like him or her but it's just.. they look so happy together and i don't like seeing that."

"so you're jealous?" you turn your head to him, opening your mouth to deny it, but the words don't come out when you realize that you are jealous. "does that make me a bad person?"

he keeps his eyes on yours as the cold wind blows, blowing your hair. he also notices the goosebumps raise on your arms. he sighs, he takes off his jacket and leans in towards you. you take a deep breath of his scent, almost leaning into him warmth. 

he places his jacket on your shoulders before looking at you for a brief moment and pulling back away from you, "put that on. or you're gonna catch a cold and have to stay home, which i think you don't really like."

you chuckle, getting your arms through the sleeves, "thanks." he ruffles your hair, "no problem. and that doesn't make you a bad person. it's normal to feel jealous, especially when you're used to seeing your parents fight and don't have a serious partner until now. no offence."

you don't know if you should laugh or cry at that, so you end up doing them both. you laugh at his comment and see him crack a smile which then makes you cry. why? well emotions are a bitch. you can never understand them.

"i hate everything. i hate how they are the ones who brought me to life and they act like they did me a favor when i didn't ask to be born." you hide your face in your palm and cry, continuing to complain, "why do i have to take the balm for everything that goes wrong in the family? why am i the one who has to help my mom in the kitchen and do as my dad says while my brother is rotting in his room on his phone?"

"why do they not see their son failing his exams, while me getting a b plus is bad? why do i have to listen to them say how they expect me to do better but cannot see i'm the one doing the most in the family?"

toji just listens to you ramble on about your family and life as he pulls you in onto his arms. he effortlessly lifts you up from the dusty rocky ground and in his lap to make sure you're comfortable.

you hide your face in his chest as he hold your body with his muscular arms, making you feel safe and honestly, just not alone. you continue sobbing while he pats your back and holds you close, making sure you know he's there with you.

after what felt like ages for you, but in reality was just a little over ten minutes, you calm down and you pull away from toji, looking down to avoid his eyes, "i'm sorry you had to see me cry again."

he chuckles, tucking the hair covering your face behind your ears and holding your face in his palm to make you look at him, "i've told you this before, you don't ever have to be sorry for anything with me, yeah? i'll hear you complain, see you cry and calm you down all you need. so just don't keep everything inside you and burden yourself. you need to let them out once in a while."

you sniffle, smiling as you let him wipe the tears from your cheeks, "would it be weird to say that i wish you were the one taking care of me?"

he pauses, then continues patting your head, "i think so."

[finnbbl]

Hyunjin × M! Reader - Dancer AU I SMAU | Chapter 16

Ch. 16 - Begged to forget I Previous Chapter | Next Chapter I

I Story Masterlist I

Written: Yes

Smau: No

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol mention, anxiety

“Ow Lia!” You complained as she adjusted your outfit. “Hold still, gosh you are so hard to work with.” She spat at you harshly, causing you to roll your eyes. Not wanting to hear her complain, you sat still as she tightened your belt. “You know I am perfectly competent of dressing myself.” Turning your head slightly towards her, her eyes glance up and pierce into yours for a few mere seconds. “Relax, there.” Lia gave you a slight push towards the mirror. It was a simple outfit, nothing you were too mad about. “You’re gonna have so much fun, i’m glad you’re getting outside of your comfort zone.” You had briefly gotten lost as she started to speak, but quickly tuned back in. “I’m only doing this because Hyunjin bribed me.”

“That may or may not have been my idea.” You gave Lia a look. But before you could say anything, you suddenly got a text. Seeing it was from Mingyu, you started to grab your bag. “Oooo what’s the smile for?”

You hadn’t even noticed that you started smiling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Responding as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “Pft yeah right, okay, anyways do you need a ride?” Lia found herself trying to engage in a conversation with you, however you hadn’t noticed. Too engrossed in a conversation on your phone, a smile lacing your face once again. Her final straw was when she had repeated the question, and you had yet to hear as only a small giggle escaped from your lips. “Y/N!”

Your body jumped slightly, “God Lia you don’t need to scream- hey!” She snatched your phone out of your hands. After a few seconds or so of her scrolling through your messages, she finally broke the silence. “Just date already.” Rolling her eyes as she shoved your phone to you. “What? Why would you say something like that?” Lia grabbed her bag. “Come on, you don’t see the way he looks at you?” Her question caught you off guard. “Uh no?”

“Well I see the way you look at him. You were just giggling over his texts two seconds ago.” All you did was scoff. “Whateverrr if you say so.” You hadn’t even considered that as a factor before. Sure he was always calling you pet names, but you never took it as anything more than platonic. “I was going to ask if you needed a ride, but I guess you got that covered.” She teased, throwing in a wink. “For the last time Lia, nothing is going to happen. Maybe you didn’t hear me the last fifty times that I wasn’t looking for a relationship.” Lia rolled her eyes. She could be so frustrating sometimes. You know she was only playing and looking out for you, but it got annoying when it was brought up every other day. “Fine fine, i’ll drop it. Now go! Go have fun.” You threw her a smile. “Thanks Lia.” The blonde embraced you in a hug before shoving you towards the door.

Your mind raced as you made your ways down the stairs of your house, only to be interrupted with the one thing you had forgotten to sort out. Your dad. “Shit..” You mumbled under your breath. He was currently watching TV with a beer in his hand. The couch and his back was turned away from the front door, it wouldn’t be impossible to sneak out. Hopefully he had enough alcohol in him to be completely unaware of his surroundings. If he wasn’t at his company, this man was always drunk or high off his ass.

You started to take a step as the odds of you getting by him successfully started to rise. You stopped in your tracks as you heard your dress shoe click against the wood floor. Freezing as your head jerked to the couch, making sure he didn’t hear. For once, him being an alcoholic had worked in your favor. You silently took off your shoes as you quickly made your way to the door. The minute you opened it you could see Mingyu’s car parked on the street in front of you. Glancing back before you shut the door as carefully as you could. You sighed of relief before making your way over to his car. Only when you got closer did you realize how nice it was. A smile fell upon your face as you admired it before opening the passenger door. “Hey y/n!” Mingyu greeted you cheerfully. “Hey,” You said back with a smile, shutting the door and putting your seat belt on. “You know Im glad you decided to tag along, I hope this helps you branch out a bit. You look great by the way.” You glanced down at your fingers in your lap, smiling to yourself at his compliment.

Although you struggled accepting praise for others, you thoroughly enjoyed it. Even if it didn’t happen often. “Well you ready?” You nodded, aimlessly tapping your fingers against your knees. A pit still remained at the bottom of your stomach, maybe it was the fact this is the first time you’ve snuck out. It wasn’t clear as to what was actually bothering you, but there was definitely something. “You okay?” Mingyu asked you as turned his blinker on, he could sense your uneasiness. “Oh, yeah yeah i’m fine. Don’t worry.” Thanking him with a small smile. Your eyes watched his moves as he drove, something about it was relaxing. It was definitely odd, however it helped ease your worries. “You know I’m always here if you need something, don’t hesitate if you ever wanna talk.” Was the last thing he said before deafening, but comforting silence took over.

Soon, you saw Mingyu pull into the driveway. As he searched for a parking spot, you could feel anxiety course through you. Your eyes darted around the scenery outside, the moon lighting up the yards of the rather expensive neighborhood that San seemed to live in. Unknowingly, your knee started to shake, letting your anxiety show. It wasn’t until someone’s hand found its way to your knee, applying a bit of pressure to hold it still. Your head whipped in the direction, there was Mingyu with his somehow reassuring gaze. “You’ll be okay, I’ll be right next to you the whole time if you need me to.” A smile found its way onto your smile. He started drawing small and light circles on your knee, as he continued to give out reassuring words.

Were those butterflies?

You couldn’t help but think to yourself as a once forgotten, but not new, feeling crept its way inside your stomach. Was it the way he cared for you? His charm? It could’ve even been his boldness when meeting you. He wasn’t afraid to show how he really was, you liked that about him. But there was no way you could let yourself fall or let anyone in. Only knowing you’d regret it later, you weren’t meant for love. It only ever ended in heart break and pain for you and the other person (mostly you). Pushing the thought to the back of your head, you quietly thanked him. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay. I don’t wanna hold you back from having fun.”

“Nonsense, I only decided to go because you did if I’m being honest.” You furrowed your eyebrows. But before you could say anything else about it, he spoke up. “Well are you ready?” As if there even was a point in asking that question he was already opening the door and getting out of the car. You did the same, getting a better view of the scenery around you. It was a calm and cool night, the gentle breeze nipping at your exposed fingertips that crept out from your long sleeve shirt. Giving it was nearing fall, you only expected it to get even colder. It wasn’t until you started to near the door did anxiety seep back into you. Hearing the loud music and seeing the excessive amount of cars that were parked on the street. You had begged that they were the neighbors.

*Knock knock knock*

You hadn’t even realized that you were standing in front of the door until knocking sounded. The door swung open, revealing San. “Hey! I’m glad you guys could make it.” San pulled Mingyu in for a hug, then moving over to you. “Come in, come in.” Mingyu could definitely sense the tension built up in your body. His hand resting gently on your back, guiding you as San led you two in proved that. It was reassuring. “Do you guys want anything to drink? We have plenty of options.”

“Sure, I’ll take something. Just surprise me.” Mingyu stated.

“Hey, watch it you’re my ride home.“ You said in a demanding, but not too serious tone.

“What, you think I can’t hold my alcohol?” His snarky response caused you to roll your eyes, it also earned a chuckle from San. “Well what about you? Do you want anything?”

“Uhh, no no i’m okay. I don’t drink.” You smiled lightly at San, making sure he knew you did however appreciate the offer. “Alright no worries, I can get you a bottle of water from upstairs if you want?” He proposed a second option as he began to make something for Mingyu, you had to say he was decently fast at it. Made you wonder if he’d worked as a bartender before. “That would be great actually, when you get a chance of course.” A lips turning into a small upward smile as you accepted his offer. “Awesome, I’ll go get that now.”

As San disappeared upstairs, you suddenly heard your name from across the room. “Y/N!” Of course, this caught your attention and it turned out to be Hyunjin. “Hey Hyunjin!” The male made his way over next to you and Mingyu, who was now just observing the conversations.

“I’m happy you made it tonight.”

“You mean your happy your bribe worked right?”

“Yeah yeah whatever, you guys should come sit over here.” He pointed over to where he was sitting, most of the faces you had recognized. Whether they were an idol you had befriended or not, it felt comforting knowing that at least it wasn’t a complete stranger to you. “Uhm sure, if Mingyu wants to that is.” You turned to look at him, not wanting to leave him behind. “Hey, I’m down for anything.” A chuckle following his sentence. Next thing you knew, you two were sitting on the couch, not long after San had returned with both of your drinks.

Hyunjin began to introduce you to the few people you hadn’t met before. “Ahh Y/N yeah, i’ve heard about you. You’re a sick dancer man.” Said a guy you had learned to be Hongjoong. Yes even though you rehearsed and performed with ATEEZ, names and faces were all a blur except for San’s. That was only because he was the one to befriend you. "Thank you, I really do appreciate it.” You smiled at the group’s leader. Briefly were the others introduced. No one had really caught your eye, that was except for one.

Wooyoung.

You couldn’t quite figure out where you’ve met him before. It had been bugging you in the back of your mind ever since the performance. You had definitely at least talked to him before, and it wasn’t at a rehearsal. In fact, the only one you could remember talking to was San. Assuming you were just going crazy, you decided to do your best to forget about him. It was only going to spike your anxiety which had just started to calm down.

An hour or so passed, when you noticed it was becoming quite noisy in the area. It could be the alcohol in everyone’s system, even Hyunjin was getting loud. Everyone except for Mingyu, who had also began to grow irritated by the noise. “You wanna step away to the kitchen for a second? It’s quite loud in here.” Only turning to him and nodding as he grabbed your wrist and led you through the small crowd of people to the kitchen. You sighed, “Thank you.. Not to sound like a baby but it was starting to get to me.” The both of you chuckled before he reassured you. “Nah don’t worry, I was starting to feel the same way.”

Before you guys could continue your conversation, the door swung open and sounded a loud voice. A way too familiar voice, one you’d never forget. Your heart stopped as you could hear San’s voice and footsteps as he welcomed the guy into the house. “Nice little hangout San, haven’t seen you since we roomed together.” As if you weren’t already sure of who it was, you turned your head to the door to be met with a face you’d not seen in a year. One that haunted you, one you had begged to never see again.

Choi Yeonjun.

More anxiety coursed through your veins, preventing you from even moving. You were frozen, your anxiety hadn’t been this bad in a while. You swallowed nervously, unable to tear your eyes way from him as much as you wanted to. All you wanted to do was run the other direction, away from him. However that was impossible. Trapped, even if you left now the only way out was through that front door. You hadn’t even noticed the calling out of your name that Mingyu was doing. You were sure there were definitely red marks on your hands from how hard you dug your nails into your palms as your fists clenched tighter and tighter. Doing whatever it took to ease the anxiousness.

“Y/N!” Mingyu said rather loud, catching the attention of a few people. Although the house was nice, it wasn’t that big. So of course the entire neighborhood population heard. Your head jerked to look at him. “Are you alright?” Your eyes full of fear before you cleared your throat and shook your head. “Y-Yeah I’m..” Unable to finish your sentence as the idea that he may have accidentally caught Yeonjun’s attention crossed your mind. You looked over back to the door. San, and of course Yeonjun, who now had a devilish smirk and an evil look in his eye. They both were looking at you. Yeonjun’s gaze was one that sent a wave of fear through your body every time you made even the slightest bit of eye contact with him. It was one you tried to rid your mind of, however it had only been a year so it wasn’t easy. His glare of fury still burned into your skull.

“Ahh Y/N, haven’t seen you in a while.” He walked over to you, playing everything as normal. Your body tensed as he had suddenly put his arm around your shoulder as if it were just a friendly gesture. Outside it may seem that way, but you both knew. Yeonjun had a motive, you knew he had something up his sleeve. Especially with how nasty things ended between you two the previous year. It wasn’t hard to tell that all eyes were on you two. San, Hyunjin, Mingyu, everyone was looking at you.

You knew this sense of happiness couldn’t last forever…

Taglist: @silverstarburst @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @onementally-unstabel-kid @uso-dakedo @lampcults @chaer4life @kkurbys @gnusihcom @mellhwang @sleeping-demons

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[babbling-idiot]

I love your Venus fics! ❤️If you are open to a request I would love to see a meet cute fic with Venus, or a fic with firsts. First meeting, first date, first kiss etc. I think that would be so cute and lovely if you are interested 😊

Working as a bartender at a relatively more common spot was great. Well sometimes that is. Most days you'd deal with your fare share of idiots. Those who put there drinks on a tab and they don't pay it. Those who get too drunk and rowdy for the other patrons and have to be kicked out, or those who think your drink making skills are shit and will hand the drink back, demanding it be made again. Usually you answer that by taking the drink, a turn of your back, and a bit of slight of hand and presto the same drink goes back to the person. They taste test it and roll their eyes.

"Now thats better. Do better next time."

Smiling you just go back to your job. Now on a good day. Which are few and far between, you get to deal with some of the more kind and warm people. Even those who are warm and fuzzy from all of the alcohol.

Tonight was no different. Throwing out drinks to every person sat at the bar. Refills being made. Money being taken and change being given, the night was going smoothly. Even the patrons were being kind. It was almost too good to be true. Only a moment after you were starting to get into the groove of things, Jenna, your coworker and fellow bartender points at the other end of the bar.

"Hey don't hate me but someone's trying to start a tab and I think it's one of the regulars."

Sure enough when you turn your head your eyes land on the man she's talking about. He was the kind of guy to put multiple beers, shots, and mixed drinks on his tab only to walk out and come back weeks later. Your boss finally told all of you to just kick the asshole out the next time he came up to the bar. And here you go. Walking to the very end you place your hands on the bar itself. Making direct eye contact with the man. He smiles wide and goes to greet you.

"No."

His brows furrow.

"What? Oh come on Y/n. You know me! I'm good for it."

He says as he tries to place his hand on top of yours.

"You have never paid for a tab, ever! You are what we call trash, so why don't you do us a favor and throw yourself out before I get Marcus, our security, to throw you in the dumpster."

His smile fades quickly and he shakes his head. He flips you the bird and begins to walk toward the door.

"Fuck you y/n. Your drink making skills are shit and your a terrible bartender!"

You smile his way and wave him goodbye. You hear a few people sat at the bar laughing and clinking their drinks together. While looking at the door to make sure he leaves a voice pulls you from your stare.

"Excuse me sugar? Could I get a drink and start a tab?"

You laugh and go to turn.

"Well I don't know miss. Can I trust you'll pay it and not run off?"

You instantly hate yourself for saying such a thing. When you make eye contact with the woman who spoke to you, your speechless. She's beautiful. Her long brown hair and big beautiful eyes. When she took in your words she smiles and looked down, a small laugh escaping her.

"Well I tell you what. If I forget to pay my tab by the end of the night, I will be right over there at that table. But something tells me you won't let me forget, will you sugar?"

At first you're without words. None that come to mind will slip from your mouth. All you can think about is this stunning woman in front of you. When she tilts her head at your speechlessness you finally snap out of it.

"Well I mean, you know I'm not, uh, very strict when it uh, comes to newcomers."

She continues to smile your way when she finally leans forward. Her blouse falling open only slightly. There's no way she's doing all of this on purpose.

"What would you like? Drink. I mean what kind of drink would you like."

Lord this night would be the death for you. You feel yourself beginning to slip.

"Sex on the beach, If you can."

Yeah your not just gonna slip, but melt right down to the floor. You nod your head and begin to make the drink. Not taking you long you place it in front of her. She grabs it, places the straw in her mouth and takes a generous sip from it. She releases the straw and what sounds like a suppressed moan escapes her. Clenching your jaw, you want to turn away. You feel almost like your seeing something you shouldn't.

"That man from earlier has no idea what he's talking about. You are very good. At your job that is."

She draw out the word 'very' as she says it and winks your way before turning around and walking towards the table she pointed at earlier. It could be the table she pointed at earlier, your not sure. You weren't paying much attention to that.

Throughout the entire night she would come up for another drink. Each one you made without a second thought. The night went on fairly well as time went on. Soon enough it was already time to close and the bar had already thinned out so significantly that you were able to spot the woman who had stolen your attention for the entire night. Instead of her coming up to pay for her drinks, she walked arm in arm with a gentleman who looked way to drunk to be walking on two legs. He fished his wallet out of his pocket and started to count out some bills after telling him the total. He didn't seem bothered by the amount. But you couldn't help the disappointed look that settles on your face. You didn't even know this woman, not even her name, but damn were you pissed that you let yourself get caught up with her. She seemed to notice your predicament. She went to say something to along the lines of an apology. Sensing this you stopped the guy mid counting and grabbed the bills already on the counter.

"Don't worry about the rest, I got it covered. Have a nice night. Come back again."

You say the last sentence with a pissed look on your face but you force a tight lipped smile. Turning away from the two, the man tries to walk towards the exit but before he can get anywhere, the woman tells him to go outside and wait for her. He nods sluggishly and walks or tries to walk to the door. She walks around the the other side where she can see you and be in your line of sight at the same time.

"Hey what's going on sugar?"

You don't look her way and huff a small breath.

"We are closing ma'am."

She tilts her head and stays where she is.

"Sugar. Look at me. You know I really don't like being ignored."

You nod your head, looking towards her for a brief moment.

"Clearly."

She lets that sit for a second before realization hits like a ton of bricks. My god, you were jealous. She laughs.

"Jealously looks, dare I say, good on you sugar. That man was a client from work earlier today. Said he wanted to get me a few drinks tonight, as a thanks for my services. He, will probably not make it into the uber I called for him. My plan was to get him into the uber and send him on his way. Come back in here and talk to you, but it seems you have steam coming up from the top of your head."

You listened intently on her words and you do believe them. You've already accepted her words and you plan to apologize but lord does her accent have such a grip on your heart. Turning toward her you take a deep breath and walk toward her. Courage was only there for a moment so you used it. You are only inches away form her when you reach your hands out and cup her cheeks in your hand. You plant your lips on hers. You feel her gasp against your lips and her hand reaches out to you, grasping your shirt in her hand. Pulling you impossibly closer. When you pull apart she has a shocked look on her face.

"I'm sorry for being an ass. So to make up for it, let me take you out tomorrow. You meet me here at 8:00 pm and I will take you out to dinner."

She smiles at you and nods her head in an excited way before she pulls back all the way.

"I will see you then sugar."

She walks towards the door and before she walks out completely, she looks back.

"The name is Venus by the way. Though I don't mind you calling me ma'am. Has a nice ring to it."

She says as she winks and lets the door swing closed. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You turn and grab a rag and a glass. You start to close up. You don't realize you start to rush the process as you go. You can't help it at this point. Excitement has grasped your heart and you can't wait to see her again. Venus. What a beautiful name.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic Rivals AU])

Y’all ready for Miguel to finally kiss (Y/N)’s ass??!?!?!? Not proofread enjoy lol, I had a lot of fun writing this. I tried to be a bit artsy near the end it it’s too cringe I’ll probably delete it and redo it lmao.

Cursing, Miguel finally getting his shit together, lol he’s ooc but it’s okayyy lol

(Y/N)- Your name, (L/N)-Last name, (N/N)-Nickname.

Word count: 2.1k

Series Masterlist Series Playlist

Chapter 12: What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way

—

You hated to admit it, but you kind of missed throwing away those stupid little apology notes from Miguel. Oddly enough, they had stopped appearing on your desk the day after your last little “date” with Spider-Man. Though you doubt there was any correlation, you couldn’t help but wonder why all of a sudden he would stop after what was about two or three weeks of nothing but notes after notes of apologies.

“He probably realized that you aren’t going to forgive him and decided to finally give up.” Mj’s voice sounded through your phone speaker, lying next to you as you laid on your stomach on top of your bed. Checking over your new manicure you had just received that morning, before letting out a huff as you dramatically dropped your head down on the mattress.

“Can we stop bringing him up? I don’t need reminders of his existence, not like I didn’t have enough reminders before…” You grumbled, you're sure if she was there with you she’d roll her eyes at your theatrics.

“I feel like we talk too much about you two.” She teased, the end of her sentence trailing off in a chuckle.

“Yeah because now that you're dating Peter, I can’t tease you about how you act like a nervous wreck around him anymore.” You shot back, picking your head back up and raising your brow, your smirk evident in your tone.

“Don’t be bitter that I got a boyfriend before (N/N), I’m sure spidey will ask you soon enough.” Your cheeks flared as your best friend tease, despite you starting it first you couldn’t help but feel yourself becoming a bit more shy at the mention of Spider-Man. You know not to take it to heart though as you let out a small laugh.

“Hey aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for that date right now.” You point out, having remembered that she mentioned to you during your last class together that Peter was planning on taking her to some movie after his photography club.

“Oh shit- you’re right! I got to go, I’ll text you later!”

“Okay bye have fu-aaaand she hung up, welp.” You drop your head on your bed once more after grabbing your pillow to place underneath you. Deciding taking a nap would be better than spending the next few hours doing something else, too tired from school to even attempt to watch a movie or tv show, let alone read or do homework. A sigh escapes through your nose, closing your eyes as you snuggle against the pillow, waiting to succumb to your own exhaustion. The white noise of your air conditioner running in the background lulling you to sleep.

—

“Maybe this is too on the nose…” Miguel mumbled to himself as he glanced down to the wrapped item in his hands, trying to compose himself as he stands in front of your dorm room, gathering the courage to knock.

It was almost embarrassing, that he was going to grovel at your doorstep in order to get you to even look at him again. He was already bruising his ego enough with the countless apology notes that you didn’t even bother to glance at for longer than a second before tossing them, let alone read. Still despite his… complicated feelings towards you, he’d rather you bruise his ego then anyone else.

His eyes came back to stare at your room number that was etched into your door, before nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You were a smart girl, a very smart girl. Miguel knew that. So he knew he was potentially playing with fire with his apology gift, he knew more than anyone else how your brain worked, he knew that you could take one glance at it and all the pieces would fall in place. He just hoped that for one, he would wave away any suspicions that you might come up with. Worst case scenario you outright declare him as Spider-Man, but then what? You weren’t one to tell secrets, you weren’t money or fame hungry so you weren’t going to go off and tell the media for a check.

Miguel shook his head, trying to shake away all the possibilities that were now coming to the forefront of his mind. Close his eyes to take in deep breath before opening to them once again to stare at your door.

‘If I keep thinking about it, I’ll end up walking away, just knock damnit.’

Finally, with a sharp exhale through his nostrils, he brings up his enclosed fist to tap lightly on your door. The edge of lips pulling downward after not getting any confirmation that you heard his knocking. After another louder knock, his ears finally picking up the faintest of annoyed groans, making his tensed shoulders slip down just a few centimeters.

Miguel thanked whatever dumb constructor decided to not give the ancient dorm building doors peepholes, because if they did, he knew you wouldn’t have opened the door for him. That’s why he stuck his foot out to act as a stopper, preventing you from closing it in his face once you realized who had decided to interrupt your short lived nap.

What a relief to be able to see your face up close with the mask on to counsel his. Despite the fact that your fake polite smile quickly melted away from your face once you realized who was at your doorstep, leaving a scowl to come and take its place. Miguel barely had time to open his mouth before your frame was once again covered by the wooden door, his school assigned leather shoes certainly getting scuffed from it hitting the side of them. Not even wincing as you attempted to push his foot out with resting your weight against the door.

“(L/N), Come on. It’s been weeks, you can’t keep ignoring me. Just… I-I know I fucked up okay? You were trying to be civil with me and I… Look I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry.” His free hand came up and pushed against the door lightly, not enough to knock you off your balance or anything but enough to peak his head through the door to meet your glare once more. “You know more than anyone else that I don’t do serious apologies. Just hear me out. You’ve-You’ve already got me begging here (L/N), to just be in the same room with you so I can admit I’m an asshole. You don’t have to forgive me, just hear me out! Please-“

He was able to squeeze himself through the crack of the door, closing it before him and leaning against it as he attempted to catch his breath from his babbling, chest raising up and down rapidly as his pleading eyes turned a bit more intense, you took a step back and crossed your arms over your chest, letting out an irritated huff as you kept your eyes on him.

“Get out O’Hara-“

“I’m tired of you ignoring me, what do you want me to do, huh!? You and I are too intertwined into each other’s lives for you to ignore me forever. You know that-“

“Unfortunately.” You grumbled under your breath, rolling your eyes a bit. Miguel, now standing up straight, took a step towards you, a hand flying to his chest as usually narrowed and bored eyes suddenly turned wild and frantic almost like a confused puppy.

“I-“ he paused, letting out a huff, before lowering his voice down to just above a whisper. “I’m not going to leave until you listen to me please just-“ He stutters, taking another pause as his eyes flutter shut tightly, you haven’t even noticed that his eyes were turning glossy and red until he opened them again, had you ever seen Miguel cry before? Well if you hadn’t, this might be a first for you both. “Please (Y/N).”

The use of the first name between you both was rare, you had been in more near death situations then you’ve heard your first name uttered from Miguel’s lips. So hearing it with such… desperation… it made your heart jump up to your throat. Your eyes never leaving his as he took another step towards you and… oh my god… is he kneeling?

“Please I-“ He choked out, the wetness that was threatening to spill out from the corner of his eye finally came down, his hands reached out to yours in desperation, you were too much in shock to think about pulling them away as you blinked down at him almost stupidly. “I can't… take it anymore. I feel like I’m going mad.”

He was being completely truthful with that statement too. He was jealous of his super powered alter ego from getting more attention from you then he was just as himself.

You finally pull yourself back into the current moment, clearing your throat as you shake yourself to help gather your words, neither of you noticing during the whole ordeal that Miguel’s apology gift had landed a few feet away from the door. Tugging at his hands as a signal to get up and off the floor. “O-okay, okay fine. Just-get up Miguel, Jesus…”

You wanted to keep holding onto this grudge of yours, but how could you when you had brought a man who is twice your size and four times your ego down to his knees? Reducing him to nothing more than a crying begging mess. Simple answer, you couldn’t. Whether it’s simple petty or if you felt like you were truly ready to hear him out, it honestly didn’t matter to you anymore. It’s clear from his breakdown that he had suffered enough.

He let out the biggest sigh of relief, sniffing a bit as he finally brought himself back up from your floor. A large hand of his coming up to wipe away a few lingering tears of frustration once he was up on his feet again. A silence fell over you both as you gave him a few seconds to collect himself properly before he could start explaining himself. Finally, with a clearing of his throat, bloodshot eyes met yours.

“Look, I know that… we haven’t been anything more than tolerant of each other… but I should have never,” his hands went to find yours again, grasping tightly as if he was afraid that you’d disappear in front of him. “Ever. Said that stuff to you. It was… too much even for us, if I could take it back, I would. I have no idea what snapped in my mind to say such vile things to you, it was wrong, it was stupid-so stupid-and I regret it. Regret it more than anything I’ve ever done in my life. You don’t have to forgive me, I don’t expect you to. Hell, say the word and I’ll walk out of here and I’ll disappear from your life forever. “

You have honestly never felt so speechless before. Miguel has never made you feel so speechless before.

“But god do I want you to forgive, to take those words back. I'll do anything, and when I tell you that I’ll do anything, I mean anything.”

You couldn’t help the breathless chuckle that escaped your throat, uneasiness bubbling up in your lower gult, despite laughing being your first reaction, you could tell he was all but joking. Your tongue stuck out to lick your suddenly dry lips.

“I can tell you’re being quite… erm, serious, so,” you pause, inhaling the tense air in hopes it’ll help calm your nerves, “I accept your apology.” Miguel took a deep breath to keep himself from turning into a babbling mess again, he could feel that heavy pressure on his chest filling up, he could finally breathe agai-“but I don’t forgive you.” He could feel his airways clog back up, he felt like he was blue screening as his ears heard the words but his mind didn’t want to accept it. He wants to do nothing more than to grovel at your feet again for you to take those words back.

But he couldn’t, it made him a little happier to know that there is something he can build off of, still as he finally was able to drag himself out from your room after putting on the facade of countenance , he felt the need to release all his pent up emotions out. He wanted to cry till his tear ducts stopped working, sob till his throat felt raw. But he couldn’t get himself to do it, his body simply wouldn’t let him, refusing to undo all of his years hiding his emotions more than he’s already done in your room, you're the only one who could make him feel again. What was that book his class started reading last week?

He felt like he had no mouth, and he had to scream.

—

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