#i'm really hoping to keep up this story consistently and any feedback is very appreciated <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter V.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Down on the west coast, we got a saying...

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: A sexy performance by our main character, he's absolutely whipped, THEY HUG FOR THE FIRST TIME !!, is it really a slow burn if they don't yearn for one another, an insufferable dad, speaking of dad back on my dbf!Javi bs, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: hi friends! hope you all enjoy this chapter, i was completely smitten while writing this since i'm such a needy little thing when it comes to a good slow burn ship lmfao also i love how we've all collectively decided that javi is lana del rey coded like SO true bestie !! like i love me some flirty!Javi okay sue me !! let him flirt with all the women !! anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Paloma is feeling wildly fervent tonight, a side effect of the eventful days she’s been having. She’s been buzzing with excitement to get up on the stage and exude all the feelings she’s been wrapped up in through music.

Between Javier’s ‘will they won’t they’ repartee and August’s piquant personality; these men have been bending her will to remain strong. It’s a peculiar thing, reminiscent to the stories she reads or movies she watches.

Paloma hasn’t stopped to think about it in a logical sense, where these newfound ‘relationships’ can go, and frankly she doesn’t want to stop and think. She just wants to be… to allow herself to indulge in the pleasantries of their attention.  

She’s at the bar two hours before she’s set to do her gig, cheerfully enjoying the company of her best friend as she drinks her signature root beer and muddled cherry mocktail. She eyes the new karaoke machine that’s just recently been acquired and leans in to get Sloane’s attention.

“Has anyone used it?” She gestures to the machine and Slo shakes her head, wiping down the counter. 

“No, but I think you’d be the perfect person to break it in. Pretty sure I saw some Madonna songs on there…” Sloane tells her in a sing-song tone, causing Paloma’s eyes to light up and she hops off the bar stool to walk up to the stage where it was. It consisted of a large television set and the actual karaoke machine.

She plays around with it for a few, familiarizing herself with the controls before she’s skimming through the dozens of available songs.

The evening crowd has started to file in, she doesn’t even realize since she’s been too busy figuring the machine out. She lets out a delighted sound of glee once she sees that Like a Prayer is one of the available songs and wastes no time in selecting it.

The song begins and she takes her position on the stage, few eyes on her. She doesn’t even need the large teleprompter for the lyrics. Bringing the microphone up to her lips, she begins to sing the intro softly.

Paloma sways her hips when she needs to, keeping up with the song as it’s one of her all time favorites. She’s done a variant of this performance in her bedroom with her hair brush many of times.

As the final notes fade away, Paloma finds herself nearly breathless, her heart still racing from how fun it was. The applause washes over her like a wave, enveloping her in a blanket of appreciation.

With a wide smile adorning her face, she gracefully bows and waves to the audience before delicately placing the microphone back on its stand. As the jukebox resumes its melody, filling the void left by her absence, she makes her way back to her spot at the bar counter, basking in the warmth of the moment.

“You know how to put on a show!” The compliment comes from a redhead sitting in the stool closest to her.

“Thank you.” Her mouth curves into a smile as she eyes her. A bride sash draped horizontally over her torso with the small veil clipped in her hair and she’s dressed in all white. There’s three other woman behind her whom she assumes is the bridal party. “And congratulations.” She raises her glass that had been replenished courtesy of her best friend.

They cheers then engage in some small talk when the bride, Wendy, confirms to Paloma that they are out for her bachelorette celebration. They had some car troubles in the middle of their travels to Austin which led to a rest stop here in Seminary until morning.

It wasn’t how she had planned to celebrate the trip, but there was nothing she could do about it so she’s making the best of the situation.

This has an idea pop into Paloma’s head, empathetic as ever, and she says her goodbyes once the band arrives. The plan is simple enough; perform some of her more sultry songs for the stranded bridal party in hopes to make their night a little more entertaining. It doesn’t take much before she’s got her band on board, tapping on the microphone to get everyone’s attention when she returns to the stage.

Javier did not plan on being at The Whiskey Fox tonight, especially with the lack of sleep he’s endured recently. Not that he hasn’t dealt with it before, but it’s been on an unforgiving incline as of late.

The worst part about his insomnia is how inconsistent it can be. He could go weeks with little to no sleep then suddenly a period where it’s all he does. Hasn’t hit the latter of the cycle just yet, but he can feel it creeping up on him at an agonizing pace.

It’s a complete shit show and infuriatingly lonely. He wouldn’t admit to the latter, however.

Exhausting himself throughout the day with hopes that he’ll be bone-tired by the end of the night, he makes an impromptu stop at the bar where hopefully a glass or two of bourbon will have him easing into sleep the second he makes it home.

It’s a long shot, nothing irregular of what he does on a regular night, but fuck, he really needs to get some rest. He can only function off coffee and nicotine for so long.

The bar is in high spirits the second he steps foot in, and with that comes the reminder that it’s a weekend night which means…

Eyes drift over to the stage and sure enough, she’s front and center, and he fights the urge to gravitate towards her.

Instead, Javier opts to sit at the bar, easily getting Sloane’s attention and ordering his bourbon.

“Y’know… I think this is the first time you’ve in been here while I’ve been on shift. You hidin’ from me, handsome?” She begins with a teasing simper, expertly pouring the drink.

Javier chuckles briefly, giving her a once-over, “Had I known a pretty little thing like you was tendin’ the bar I woulda been in here much more consistently.” Flirtatious as ever, despite his exhaustion, brown eyes meeting her gaze as she diligently sets the glass in front of him with a vivacious grin.

“Oooh, you’re a sweet talker. I like that. Not many darin’ boys ‘round here.” She leans forward, making a point to press her breasts together to show off her cleavage which he shamelessly ogles.

“S’a good thing I’m not a boy, sweetheart.” Bringing the glass up for a sip, their stare isn’t broken and she cocks her head to the side in interest.

“A great thing, even. You’re all man.” Her southern accent drips with sensuality, the suggestion hanging heavy in the air between them. For a fleeting moment, Javier entertains the idea of inviting her back to his place to relieve some tension and get some rest, but before he can act, she’s whisked away by another patron.

Divine intervention, Javi thinks, since his interest for her drops the second he hears Paloma’s voice. Placing some cash on the counter, he moves over to the table he’s accustomed to sitting at, distancing himself from the distraction with great tits behind the bar.

♫

His attention now fully on the woman on stage, her honeyed voice and the movements of her hands as they trail along the length of her body, diligently tracing her curves.

He can’t keep his eyes off her. Clad in a sleek black dress with a sweetheart neckline, its hem teasingly grazes the curve of her thigh. She radiates an effortless sensuality. Her mid-thigh high boots elevate her stature, causing her back to arch ever so subtly, drawing his gaze to her ass.

Her hips sway with a tantalizing rhythm that ignites Javier’s imagination, conjuring images of her poised above him with his cock drilling deep inside of her.

The glass in his hand suddenly feels heavy as his thoughts get dirty, so he takes a long sip, relishing the fiery sweetness that burns down his throat.

Javi finds himself completely entranced, lost in the melody of her voice. As Paloma begins her descent from the stage, weaving her way through the tables scattered around the room, a sense of anticipation stirs within him. With bated breath, he shifts in his seat, eagerly awaiting for her to approach him.

She continues, tastefully interacting the patrons nearby, pocketing bills that are being handed to her. She handles it suavely, tucking the wads of cash in the band of her boot that’s pressed against her thigh.

Javier’s eyes fall to the area as she does this, running his tongue over his teeth and truly contemplating if staying away is worth it all. He digs into his back pocket, fishing out the leather wallet and swiftly pulling out whatever was in it to give her.

It’s then that she approaches him, the spotlight making Paloma look more radiant than any star he’s ever seen. Their eyes meet in an enchanted gaze, his lips tug up into a cocky and expectant smirk in which she matches before slowly rounding behind him, almost singing in his ear.

“Te deseo, cariño, boy, it’s you I desire.” 

Javier’s jaw ticks as her touch runs along the expanse of his broad shoulders, and before she’s able to leave him completely, he slips the bills into her palm and lets it drop from his grasp.

That line was a seductive invitation, crafted for him alone, and he can feel it in the way her lips curve into a smug smile. Was it penned with him in mind, sung in Spanish to tantalize him? The notion ignites a fierce longing within Javier, his skin tingling and body craving her.

Her lyrics, saturated with desire, mirror the very same craving she elicits from him. The hunger in her eyes speaks volumes, a silent plea for the passion they both yearn to share.

She finishes the song, the table of a bridal party praising her drunkenly as the music dies down and everyone begins their applause. Some whistling at her, too.

Javier remains unmoved, reclining effortlessly in the chair, one arm draped casually over its back. His gaze is fixed on her, unwavering, a fresh cigarette dangling from his lips, the tendrils of smoke curling around him lazily. He makes no attempt to conceal his admiration, indifferent to whether she notices his lingering stare. The bold move she just made only serves to fuel him, leaving his infatuation as intense and consuming as ever.

It’s evident that Paloma seeks his pursuit, craving the thrill of the relentless chase until she willingly offers herself completely. Though Javier typically refrains from chasing pussy, he finds himself captivated by the enticing dynamics of their relationship— a tantalizing dance of push and pull.

This experience is vastly different from his usual encounters, where women often yield quickly to his advances. With her, however, the challenge persists, defying his expectations and fueling his intrigue.

For a time, Javier reveled in the thrill of it all— the fleeting encounters with women at brothels, the allure of one-night stands. The fast-paced rhythm of constant attention and swift hook-ups kept him occupied and amused.

Yet now, a shift has happened.

He finds himself drawn to the unhurried pace of whatever undefined connection he shares with Paloma. It’s a departure from the whirlwind of his past experiences, and despite its ambiguity, it holds a newfound interest, captivating him in its gradual unfolding.

It’s building tension, prolonged foreplay to a shared fantasy that’ll only bring them both conflict. Conflict that he doesn’t want to be burdened with…

Yet, she makes it so hard to stay the fuck away.

As she vanishes into the depths of the back area, Javier swiftly drains the last remnants of his drink, feeling more restless than when he came in.

It has been days since her last performance, yet she hasn’t stopped thinking about that night. It was her first time doing anything remotely sensual as she had— and she liked it. It gave her a lot of real confidence and not that of which she pretends she obtains.

She’s already preparing herself for the scrutiny she’ll receive from a certain group of gossips at church for putting on such a scandalous performance.

Whatever, she thinks, people were going to talk shit regardless and she’s never felt more sexier and empowered. The self-assurance she got from people handing her tips and receiving Javier’s undivided attention was exhilarating.

It had been more than enough for her to quickly improvise a specific lyric in her song. For him.

Paloma is at a loss to rationalize her impulsive behavior once she approached him, swept up in a sensation akin to a siren’s call, drawing in a lost sea captain with an irresistible temptation.

He’d been more preoccupied than usual, leaving Paloma to grapple with an unexpected yearning for his presence. Their interactions had become fleeting, confined to brief exchanges in passing or hurried conversations over the phone, often revolving around attempts to reach the sheriff.

So seeing him there that night, very present at her gig, she knew she had to do something big to give him the hint that she is very, very interested in doing something, anything with him. Consequences be damned.

Paloma won’t be the one to take it there, that’s a rookie move. If Javier is as interested as he appears to be, then she fully intends to practice some patience and have him crawling over to her.

Would he actually do that, though? She only knows bits and pieces of his romantic endeavors, and from the little information she’s gathered; he doesn’t seem like the type to chase but she could be wrong.

There is no harm in trying to seduce him, really, and if he rejects her then she’ll take the hint and move on. It’s not like she wants to date the man or have him fall to one knee asking for her hand in marriage.

No, Paloma just really wants to get laid. Too many nights have came and went where all she’s dreamed of is the hot, older deputy sheriff screwing her into oblivion. 

Then at the bar… he actually gave her money, matter of fact, he had been the biggest tipper of the night. She contemplated giving the cash back to him, thinking it was entirely too much, but she talked herself out of the idea solely because she found the transaction incredibly hot.

She’s cautious not to invest her entire focus in him, so she’s also been seeing August.

Their time together brings forth a distinct experience, stirring uncertainty about her romantic attachment to him. It wasn’t until yesterday afternoon, amidst the tranquil shade of a sprawling oak tree, engrossed in shared reading, that an almost kiss cast light on her true sentiments towards him.

Their connection pulsates with an undeniable chemistry, his attention lavishing upon her as if she were the rarest gem. United by their shared interest for literature and idyllic beliefs, he breathes vitality into the stifling surroundings.

While the opportunity for a shared kiss lingered, Paloma’s thoughts persistently drifted toward Javier, rendering the moment bittersweet.

Lost in her own thoughts amidst the task of pulling weeds from the garden, she remains oblivious to the persistent ringing of the landline inside. Only as the sound penetrates her consciousness does she snap out of it.

Hastily removing her gardening gloves and rushing inside, she reaches for the phone just before its final ring.

It’s Lola from the bar letting her know that a letter has just been dropped off— addressed specifically for Paloma.

She is confused yet intrigued at the news, and in no time she’s in town; sitting on top of the counter ripping the poor envelope open and scanning the words on the piece of paper.

Apparently, the bride who was here last weekend contracts acts from all over Texas to perform at the state fair in Dallas. Seems like Paloma was conspicuous enough to warrant an invite.

A much bigger crowd, her first real chance to branch out by doing something she’s genuinely passionate about. 

After freaking out about it with the ladies at the bar, even taking a celebratory tequila shot, Paloma is racing to make it to the station to share the good news with her dad. 

She hurriedly hops off her bike, not even bothering to chain it to the rack as she snatches the letter and saunters up the steps and into the building overly excited.

Clearly, she’s interrupted something as both men’s heads snap in her direction with heavy, worried looks in their eyes when she barges in.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Her father steps towards her, scanning her for any injuries.

“Yes I’m fine daddy,” she tucks her hair behind her ears to contain some of her excitement since she feels some of the leftover apprehensiveness from before she arrived, “I’m just excited to show you this, look! I got invited to preform at the state fair!” She shoves the paper into his chest and he turns it around so he can read it.

Her eyes are bright in anticipation, searching his stoic face for a reaction.

“Sweetheart, this is wonderful...” He trails off and her smile begins to fade at his tone.

“What? What’s wrong?” She questions, eyes flickering over to Javier who stands almost awkwardly behind the sheriff.

“A girl in Fayette has gone missing. We just got the call. About to head over to help ‘em out.” The news has Paloma drawing in a breath, all the enthusiasm in her body evaporating as he hands the paper back to her.

“O-Oh, that’s—”

“This is amazing news, babygirl. We’ll talk about it more when I get home later, alright? We gotta get goin’.” 

The dismissal breaks her, and there’s a second where her demeanor shows it but it’s only temporarily as she nods understandingly then steps aside to allow him to maneuver his way into his office.

“State fair, huh? That’s huge, congrats bella.” Javier’s voice keeps her from scurrying away and she gives him a small smile.

“Thanks, but seems like there’s more important things to focus on.” She won’t be self-centered by taking up any more of their valuable time. A girl is missing and if they want to come out on top, then their focus has to remain on her and not Paloma’s trivial news.

“You’re right but that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy for you.” She lifts her gaze from her shoes up to meet his at the use of ‘we’ and she melts, instantly.

In his captivating brown eyes, there’s a delicate balance of gentleness and resolve, causing her knees to weaken slightly. She discerns the subtle golden flecks that add a compassionate depth to his stare.

“Yeah, I guess. Just hate that all this is still happenin’. I’m assumin’ y’all aren’t any closer to findin’ out who’s doin’ all this, huh?” Since her father doesn’t tell her anything except what he needs to, she isn’t fully aware of the exasperatingly severity or statuses of the cases.

Javier lets out a heavy sigh, thumb dragging across his trimmed mustache then bottom lip and her eyes zero in on the movement, which she shouldn’t find as attractive as she does. “No, but things like this always take time. It’s the most frustrating thing about the job.” 

She nods, having somewhat of an understanding, “Then I’ll get outta y’alls hair. Leave the mystery solvin’ and savin’ the day to the pros.” Her nose crinkles as she lets out a soft laugh in attempts to lighten the mood.

He gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Javier’s magnetism is undeniable, his rugged handsomeness coupled with an air of competence that captivates her completely. She senses something more than mere physical attraction. It’s as if small moments like these are chipping away at the salacious layers of their connection, revealing something deeper and more profound beneath.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah? Got those parts for dear Darla comin’ in any day now. You’ll be cruisin’ around town in no time.” He winks at her and she giggles softly, blood pooling at her cheeks in a deep blush that he notices immediately and it makes his chest tighten.

“I’m lookin’ forward to it.” Paloma replies, a bit more shyly than she’d like but that’s just what happens when you’re affected by Javier Peña’s irresistible charm.

They hold each other’s gaze for a few more seconds, Paloma losing herself in the depths of his warm brown eyes, while Javier savors her presence entirely. Their silent exchange is interrupted as Romeo emerges from his office, oblivious to yet another fleeting moment shared between his daughter and the deputy sheriff, lost in their own world of unspoken emotions.

She is well aware of the copious amount of time she’s been putting in to her performance for the fair, spending all her free time at the bar with the band rehearsing or in her room piecing together her outfit.

This is her moment to showcase her mastery of the craft, and she seizes it with unwavering determination. To an outsider, the prospect of performing at a mediocre state fair, hours away from home, might seem insignificant. But to her— it’s everything. Every chord struck, every lyric sung carries the weight of her dedication.

This performance isn’t just about the venue; it’s about pouring her proving to herself that she’s capable.

At first, her father had been really excited for her… but as the days dragged by and tensions with the missing person case increased, he began to grow more cynical about it.

With the way things were going, he wouldn’t be able to accompany her and that’s when all the unnecessary comments began. Romeo began to bring up the crime rate in Dallas, hypotheticals of what would happen if she were to get stuck on the side of the road on her way there, even insinuating that her band (which consisted of four members from their church) wouldn’t be as reliable as she knows them to be.

It pissed her off every time he opened his mouth to talk on the matter. At first, she just ignored him or said something neutral to appease him, but now that the date was slowly approaching, she found it difficult to keep her rebuttals to herself.

How many times was she going to have to remind him that she’s a grown up? For some reason, he thinks she’s still a meek sixteen year old girl that needs his protection.

This is what led to the current argument. Him reluctant to let her go and Paloma insistent on going with or without his ‘permission’. Before it has the chance to get out of hand, there’s a knock at the front door and she uses it as an excuse to end the conversation.

Sighing heavily, she opens the wooden door to find Javier on the other side and immediately her frown disappears and she smiles sweetly up at him.

Amidst her intense preparation for the forthcoming performance and his deep engagement at the station, their encounters have become even more infrequent, a departure from their usual routine.

Yet, despite the scarcity of interaction, their bodies seem attuned to each other’s presence, responding instinctively to the silent symphony of their unspoken connection.

“Hey cowboy, whatcha doin’ here?” She crosses her arms against her chest, the screen door still separating the two of them.

“I told you I’d have the parts in any day now.” It’s then that she sees a cardboard box in his possession and realization dawns on her.

“Oh my god— no way! Thank fuckin’— Lord almighty, you’re such a saint.” Javier chuckles at her words which has her feeling fucking giddy as she opens the screen door and steps aside to let him in.

“M’not a saint, princesa, but your kind words are appreciated.” They walk side by side, her shoulder softly brushing against his arm, to the kitchen where her father is.

“Daddy, Javier’s here to finish workin’ on sweet Darla.” There’s a tinge of bitterness lacing her words as she addresses her father, their previous argument still fresh on her mind but she would rather throw herself off a bridge than finish said conversation in front of their company.

The two men greet each other, making small talk as Romeo thanks Javier for all he’s doing for both the town and the help he’s been extending to his daughter. Paloma boredly leans against the doorframe, waiting for them to wrap up their exchange and Javi can feel her impatience.

When they finally breakaway, It’s just him and Paloma in the shed, Romeo stuck inside taking an important call. Instead of perching herself on the chair like last time, she’s leaned over the hood of the car with him, close enough to be able to feel the heat radiating from her body.

“I didn’t interrupt something earlier, did I?” Javier asks, picking up on the tension between her and her dad in the kitchen just then.

Paloma doesn’t reply right away, eyes trained on his working hands within the engine.

“You did but it was a good thing. We were havin’ a small argument that was about to turn into a real big fight. He’s being so anal about not lettin’ be go up to Dallas for the fair. He doesn’t seem to understand that I’m goin’ regardless.” She scoffs with a shake of her head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“He just worries about you… doesn’t necessarily go about it in the best way but he just wants to make sure you’re safe.” He picks his words as carefully as he can, gaze flickering to her face briefly before returning to the task at hand.

“I know, he’s just so stubborn about it.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

She lets out a genuine laugh, the one that involuntarily brings a small smile to his lips and she elbows him playfully.

“He’ll come around. He sees how passionate you are about your music. Like you said, you’re goin’ to do it with or without him.” Paloma doesn’t say anything, thinking his words over knowing that Javi’s right but he’s underestimating how adamant her father can be.

Finally getting the last piece screwed in tight, he stands to his full height and wipes his hands off on a rag, “Alright, go start her up and see if she’s cooperatin’ finally.” Javier gestures towards the driver’s seat as he slams the hood close and she excitedly leaves his side, flinging the door open and sliding in.

The engine starts with ease and the delighted cheer that comes from Paloma is more rewarding than anything he’s deserving of.

She hops out, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug that takes him back, literally, stumbling over his feet slightly but they’re kept upright as his hands naturally fall to her waist.

Their bodies pressed together ignites a fervent blaze of desire between them.

Her scent— an intoxicating blend of freshly bloomed flowers and ripe fruit— envelops him like a gentle summer breeze, casting a spell he never wants to break.

His fingers brush against the exposed skin from her cropped shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The softness of her curves beneath his touch tempts him to explore further, but he restrains himself.

“Thank you so much, Javi. You have no idea how happy you’ve just made me.” Paloma pulls away first, but not completely, and the position they’re left in is much more intimate than it should be.

His breath fans over her face, which is just inches apart, if he really wanted to; he could lean in and press his lips against hers…

And he really, really wants to but with Romeo just around the corner— he won’t risk getting caught. No matter how enticing and easy it’d be to give in.

“Javi? What happened to officer or cowboy?” He teases, pinching at her hips and she pushes at his chest, finally breaking their embrace.

“Right, forgive me for wantin’ to have a moment of authenticity.” Paloma playfully rolls her eyes, “Thank you so much, officer. You have no idea how…” She trails off suddenly and his brow cocks inquisitively.

“You have no idea how satisfied you’ve left me.”

The sultriness in her voice, gleam in her eyes, and those long lashes batting up at him all innocently does nothing but fuel his craving for her. 

“If this is all it took to leave you satisfied, hermosa, then you’re in worse shape than I thought.”

She bites down on her lower lip, “Thank god I have you here to help me out, hmm?” 

And for a split second it feels like something might happen but ultimately… it doesn’t. 

“Just doin’ what I can, cariño. You get any more car problems just call me and not ese mecánico de mierda (shitty mechanic).”

As she leans forward to retrieve the keys from the ignition, he finds himself entranced by the graceful arc of her back, seemingly inviting his lustful gaze to follow its every contour. The gentle slope of her spine draws his eyes downward, her low rise jeans accentuating her plump ass.

“Well… I can’t call you if I don’t have your personal number… what if I have an emergency and you’re not at the station?” Paloma can feel his gaze on her and it makes her feel satisfied that she’s able to capture his attention so easily, closing the car door with her hip and leaning against it.

“That would just be a downright wretched thing.” As his hand instinctively reaches for the memo book he habitually carries, a silent curse echoes in his mind upon realizing its absence. He does have his pen, though.

With a swift and decisive motion, Javier closes the distance between them. A sharp intake of breath betrays her surprise.

“Don’t have paper on me, but…” Taking her hand gently in his, he turns it and begins to write his home phone number on her palm.

Paloma’s heart quickens its pace, his touch a juxtaposition of rough and gentle against her soft skin. She becomes acutely aware of the stark size difference between their hands, his encompassing hers entirely. A shiver dances down her spine at the sensation, the pressure of arousal building.

With a soft exhale, she finds herself unconsciously pressing her thighs together to relieve some of said pressure. The simple act of hand-holding, so mundane, leaves her wanting more of his touch.

The only thing she can think of is how good his large, thick fingers would feel pressed against her clit while he pleasures her. Or curling inside of her and brushing against that soft spot that makes her come undone.

Focus, Paloma, you’re practically drooling.

“Might wanna write that down somewhere soon. The sweat is gonna mess it all up.” Javier teases, letting go of her hand and stuffing the pen into the front pocket of his shirt. The thin layer of perspiration clearly in response to his gesture.

Her eyes widen at the comment and it has her tripping over her words, “Y-Yeah I’ll, uh, make sure not to lose this. Like I said, it’d be a bummer if I couldn’t get ahold of you in a time of need.”

Her desire continues to simmer and she mentally slaps herself for letting her cool girl facade slip just because he held her damn hand. It doesn’t help that the sight of his exposed collarbones has her fingers itching to trace along his chest and explore beneath the fabric.

She fights the urge to succumb to temptation, her resolve tested by the magnetic pull of his presence.

His smirk never falters, absolutely loving to see his effect on her. It’s only fair, seeing as she’s always the one who riles him up. “Alright cariño, I better get outta here before we get ourselves into trouble.”

The fragile awareness of their shared moment shatters her reverie, grounding her back to reality.

“Of course,” she replies softly, her voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. Her hand remains steady, resisting the urge to wipe away the lingering warmth of his touch as they head back to the house.

All hands are on deck to find Jessica Valdez, the missing girl from Fayette.

Back in Colombia, everyone was too afraid to speak up when something was amiss in fear of having their lives taken by the vicious cartels that ran the streets. Those who did have the bravery to come forward with information only did so in hopes of getting support and protection from a government that wasn’t even theirs.

Consequently, when adversity struck, the flow of valuable intelligence was delayed, impeding the acquisition of pertinent information. This rationale justified Javier’s visits to the brothels, veiled under the pretext of proactive investigation aimed at uncovering critical details essential for combatting the narcos.

The fucking was just a pleasurable addition.

In small communities stateside, however, that’s all people do. Talk. So, when Javier goes out to do some canvassing of his own; he isn’t all surprised by how willingly people are to spill the secrets of their neighbors. By the end of the day, he damn near knows about all the affairs in town, who likes to steal money from who, the mayor’s ‘illegitimate’ child, and decade long family feuds.

Exactly what he expected to find in small Texan towns.

Like he had told Romeo in the beginning, there’s always some truth to a rumor. As he’s collecting information about Seminary and the communities that surround it; he comes to find out about a trio of troublemakers that come from one of the towns where one of the earliest victims had been found and their peculiar interest in all things occult. 

This piqued his interest and upon further investigation; he quickly found the files for Augustus Dixon, Sloane McCarthy and Gabriel Torres.

Immediately, Sloane caught his attention, although her mugshot portrayed her with a more youthful demeanor. The man from Nina’s funeral, Gabriel, also stood out in his memory. He recalls Sloane mentioning him by name that day he was at the Leighton home, too.

However, the third male remained unfamiliar, his appearance suggesting a rebellious disposition, evident from his file and accompanying mugshot.

The trio had been in and out of jail all their adolescence for petty crimes like stealing, vandalism, public intoxication, fighting and other nonsense. Nothing severe. They were just troublemakers and that is not odd to find in rural areas. Kids get bored and do stupid shit.

Javier would know better than anyone, he did similar things at their age.

He’s spread out on his couch, glass of whiskey in one hand and file in the other. He is deep in concentration, reading over different police reports and trying to find out where the occult aspect of it comes into play when the phone begins to ring and he lets out a grunt.

Reaching over to grab the receiver, he tucks it between his shoulder and ear as he answers.

“Peña.”

“Hey cowboy.”

Her voice has him sitting up straight, discarding the folder in his hand on the coffee table, now fully attentive. It’s actually kind of pathetic how fast his demeanor changes when it comes to Paloma.

“Hola hermosa, a little late to be callin’, yeah? You should be getting your beauty sleep for the big day tomorrow.” He hadn’t forgotten about her performance at the fair, making note of the date the second she told him about it.

“I should be but I’ve got nerves like you wouldn’t believe.” She pauses and he can hear her thinking, “Daddy and I just had a fight… well I dunno even know if you’d call it that. It ended with him sayin’ he didn’t give a damn if I went or not… all that fussin’ just so he could say he didn’t care in the end. If I’m actually that insufferable I’m beggin’ you to put me out of my misery.” He chuckles at that and he can imagine her smiling at his reaction.

“Don’t be nervous, corazón. You’re goin’ to do great. You already knock it outta the park at The Whiskey Fox every weekend. This ain’t no different.” It is different and he knows it, but he also knows her and how she tends to overthink to the point of anxiety. “You ridin’ up there all alone?” Not a fan of the idea but he wouldn’t disclose this to her, now when he knows how much it ticks her off. 

“I was gonna hitch a ride with the band, then I remembered I have a car now so I was goin’ to do that but…”

“But?”

“I want you to come with me… if you can.”

The request surprises him, so much so that it prompts him to take a larger drink of his liquor.

“I didn’t scare you off, did I?” She giggles nervously at his prolonged silence.

“No ‘course not. Just figured you’d enjoyed your newfound freedom of being on the road alone.”

“As fun as that sounds, I think it’d ease my daddy’s nerves knowin’ his glorified babysitter was taggin’ along…” Javier feels like there’s more to it than that, especially since she’s always complaining about being under her father’s thumb— only to go on and continue to pacify him. Before he can ask her about it she continues.

“And I’ve never traveled outside of Seminary… well not since I was a little girl. Didn’t really get out much after mom… Just haven’t been outta town in a long, long time.” He can sense her coyness at the admission and it does nothing but persuade him into joining her.

Javi should think it over more, the logistics of him being hours away with Paloma, knowing how ambiguous things are between them. However, he swiftly dismisses his apprehensions, feeling somewhat foolish for blowing what might be a trivial matter, out of proportion.

Especially when she seems so nervous to ask for his company.

Finishing off his drink, Javier leans in deeper to the comfort of his couch and he can hear her soft breaths on the other end of the line, anticipating his response.

“Alright, cariño just tell me what time you need me to be there and I’ll be there.”

[milliesfishes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

(idk who to tag who originally came up with the questions but I found them through @the-likesofus and was curious ab my other writer moots answers so <3)

How many works do you have on ao3?

2 but I'm hoping to repost a bunch of my fics on here to there soon!

What's your total ao3 word count?

92,519

What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment I write for TBOSAS and Billy the Kid (2022)

Top five fics by kudos:

Only have 2 fics on AO3 currently but

1. I Once Believed Love Would Be Black and White, But It's Golden

and

2. Pray You Catch Me

Do you respond to comments?

Always!! I love, love receiving comments and I know how scary it can be sometimes to leave them, so I want to show my appreciation <3

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Well...𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓮𝓯𝓽 𝓶𝓮 rn but I have one coming out tomorrow that's also Billy the Kid and the ending is pretty...it's pretty angsty

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

I try really hard to keep my endings happy because the nature of both fandoms I write for is inherently tragic but personally the one that warms my heart the most is either 𝓤𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓾𝓫𝓽𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 cause it's the end of the series or 𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼

Do you get hate on fics?

I've been very lucky to receive mostly positive feedback on my work- the closest I've gotten to hate was someone commenting on how I didn't include in the TWs that my Reader would be mentioned as thin and blue eyed (which I felt SO bad about and they were very kind about the whole situation- sometimes I don't catch that stuff in editing)

Do you write smut?

I do not purely because I'm a Christian girl (don't hate me) but that doesn't mean I judge others for doing so at all like y'all get freaky go nuts <3

Craziest crossover:

I've never done a crossover fic but that could change

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, no, thankfully

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't technically. The closest I've come is when Franci and me have done mermaid au stuff but that was completely her idea and her credit, she just let me write for it <3

All time favourite ship?

It's hard to say (anyone I write for x me lmao)

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

tbh once I deem something a wip there's no stopping me until I finish it. Having drafts lowkey stresses me out (in a good way) I've finished almost everything I've started, the only exceptions being things that were either a) had no plot point at all besides the ship or b) my hyperfixation fizzled and I lost passion

What are your writing strengths?

I feel like I'm good at angst honestly, and the other thing I feel like I consistently do well is in the plot points of my stories. Honestly my self awareness isn't that great though so I could possibly be talking out of my ass

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I've done it briefly before because Billy canonically speaks Spanish but I am not a fluent speaker in any language except English so I'd be a little cautious doing it lol

First fandom you wrote in?

The very first fandom I ever wrote in was Riverdale

Favourite fic you've written?

I'm still so proud of Pray You Catch me, but another one I love is Inamorata just cause it was so fun to write. But honestly I adore all my fics and though I'll always be self-critical they mean a lot to me because my followers have liked them so much <3

Tagging!

@francixoxoxo @runningfrom2am @a-romantics-guide-to-life @fictional-at-heart

also if you're a writer and you see this you're tagged <3

[withlovelunette]

Hello Lunette! I saw your post about needing advice on how to reconnect with your writing after an absence due to chronic illness, and while I don’t have a chronic illness, I do have chronic depression. Here are 5 tips I’ve learned over the years that have helped me when it comes to feeling disconnected from your writing. Hopefully they help!

Read a book or watch a movie that is similar to what you’re trying to write. Pay attention to how you feel as you read/watch, how the story draws you in, and what kind of imagery/language is used. In what ways is your writing similar to these stories? In what ways is it different?

Rewrite, rewrite, rewrite! Don’t even look at the old scene- just rewrite it from memory. See if anything changes in tone or verbiage.

Bounce ideas off of friends. Sometimes we just need somebody to sort through the weeds with us. Ask for their honest (but kind and constructive) feedback, and see if they have any insights that can help.

Take a notebook with you everywhere you go and jot down your ideas. Whether it’s snippets of prose or dialogue, words that evoke feeling or even journaling! Any writing is better than no writing! Plus keeping all of your thoughts in one spot will help you connect your ideas.

Get excited!!! Make writing fun! Make playlists for your story and/or characters! Make niche memes about your story only a you will understand! Be your own number one fan! Sometimes you just have to let yourself get funky with it!

I hope this helps! If you ever want to talk about your writing or get feedback on something your stuck with my messages are always open! 💛

Thank you so much for the advice!! I saw this ask when it first arrived into my inbox, but didn't get around to answering it until now; I figured other people might also be able to take something useful away from this ask so I wanted to share it :,) Luckily, I have gotten back into the swing of writing, although I'm (evidently) very far behind on tumblr. With some more experience being a chronically ill writer under my belt, these tips have been very helpful for me, particularly the 4th one. Being chronically ill (physically in my case, but this applies to other forms as well!) means you pretty much never know what your physical/mental state is going to be on any given day, so I've given up on planning my writing sessions and embraced writing more sporadically in my notes whenever I feel up for it, and then assemble it into a doc later.

I really appreciate you and everyone else who's reached out ever since I've spoken up about my health problems. Needless to say, it's been a rough (and lonely!) past year as I'm not really surrounded by other people who have any experience with chronic illness. It's a very alienating experience, but that's what makes online spaces like these very helpful; even if I mostly just lurk nowadays until I can manage to be consistent again. I hope you (and anyone else reading this) have a good writing year in 2024! :D <3

[gameminds]

Tooth Gone

I got my tooth extracted. hooray

lol but seriously. I already feel substantially better psychologically just to have it out and not have to worry about it, and it hurts less than it has when it was at its worst already anyway. I'm glad I was at least able to be on top of my shit for long enough and consistently enough that I was able to get that done.

I'm still a little short on the financial side, and unfortunately I still haven't been able to monetize streaming or writing in any way yet. But really, I'm still in a very happy hobby space with both of those, and I've been very successful with school and work in the mean time. Partially because I sold a house last year, I'm essentially getting exactly zero dollars back on my tax return. So it may be another few weeks of grinding pretty hard until the end of the semester in the first week or so of May.

This summer, I'm going to be taking 4 full credit classes, so my school schedule is going to ramp up pretty dramatically. But I'm in a place where my productivity level and focus level is at all time highs, and I'm feeling more comfortable and fulfilled than I maybe ever have. Unfortunately again, I will probably have to reduce my content output a little. But basically no one is consuming it right now anyway XD

If you've stopped by the blog or my stream, I'd love to hear from you! I've been really interested to get feedback and hear from people who share interests with me, and I'm eager to build a bigger community of people that I feel like a part of. If you read my stories and you enjoy them, please please please share them, comment on my posts about them, send me a message, anything at all to let me know you're out there! Helping me share my stories with new people is the most important way you can help me meet more writers and content creators, share queer, progressive content you enjoy with people you love, and grow my channel so that I can keep adding more stories to the portfolio! Letting me know what you like and don't like, what you want to see more of, what keeps you coming back, and how I can help you see yourself in my stories is the most important way you can let me know that you appreciate the effort I put into crafting stories that speak to people, and help me get better and better all the time!

Anyway today I'm feeling very grateful after having several very bad weeks full of a lot of pain, stress, and depression. For anyone out there who reads this blog, reads my stories, watches the stream, hangs out with me on twitter-- thank you for spending some of your time with me and my weird thoughts!

the patreon can be found through my linktree if you want to support or check out my stories-- everything on patreon except the story outlines is available TOTALLY FREE. any amount you want to contribute goes directly to supporting me as a writer and content creator.

I've been posting stories sort of scattershot between a bunch of different profiles, but this week I'm going to migrate all of them over so that they're linked on both the patreon page and my writing blog, AB sci-fi. All of the stories will also be migrated to Google Docs in the process. I may even do some updates and edits 😉

Hope all is well with all of you! Enjoy the stories!

Catch you next time-

-AB

[amstories]

Newsletter #12: January 2023

Dear RNAs (kinikilig pa rin ako sa tawag ko sa inyo),

It's a brand-new year again and I'm thankful that you choose to spend another year with me. This brand-new year, I have new stories, characters, and writing goals to share with you guys.

2023 WRITING GOALS

Last year, I unofficially joined NaNoWriMo wherein I write everyday for the month of November. That solidified my writing goal for this year—to stay consistent in my writing, whether it be my story updates or the stories that I publish. That's why I'll be having regular updates every Monday this year!

Aside from that, I want to finish at least three stories this year. If I happen to finish more than that, then better, right? One of the things that I want to do this year to accomplish my goals is to participate in this year's NaNoWriMo. This is why I'm already preparing for it as early as now.

I hope I'll be able to reach all of my goals this year but nevertheless, I'm just excited to share my new stories with you this year!

2023 PROJECTS

Since I'll be updating every Monday this year (yes, every Monday of 2023), I have a total of four stories to publish.

Secrets We Can't Keep is going to be my first epistolary, so your feedbacks are very much appreciated, whether it be good or bad. But please do it in a gentle way. Constructive criticisms help me grow as a writer, so I'd accept them when you give one. You can comment on my stories on Wattpad or message me on my socials if you're shy.

Before I proceed to my next projects, I just want to say thank you to everyone who read and loved my novelette series, Karaoke Nights. My next projects are of the same kind and vibe as Karaoke Nights. I'm proud to present to you a novelette series that revolves around the commute scene in Metro Manila, Manila Commuters Club!

Manila Commuters Club has three installments: (1) Project Fate, (2) Commuting For Dummies, and (3) Crush Hour. Each has ten chapters for you to enjoy reading.

Would that be all the stories I'll publish this year? Well, despite being the planner girl that I am, sometimes the best things happen when they're unplanned. That's why I'm still open to spontaneity. So yes, you could expect more stories to be published aside from what I shared in this newsletter. (Gulatan na lang!)

52 FICLET CHALLENGE

Aside from updates every Monday, I'm also planning to post ficlets every Friday. Thus, the 52 ficlet challenge. This would really be a challenge for me since 52 ficlets is a lot.

For me to be able to keep up with the challenge, I decided to divide Ficlet Fridays S04 into four quarters: (1) January to March, (2) April to June, (3) July to September, and (4) October to December. Each quarter would have different themes:

Q1: Fluff bingo, wherein I write ficlets about my original characters from this fluff bingo.

Q2: Fanfictions, wherein I write ficlets about characters from different creators whether it be from a novel, television show, or movie.

Q3: Sides Take The Spotlight, wherein I write ficlets about my side characters. It's their time to shine!

Q4: You Make Me Sick, wherein I write ficlets about the crowds' favorite bickering housemates.

AM STORIES CALENDAR

Because of that, I'll be sharing this shared calendar with you guys so you could keep track of the things I post—story updates, ficlets, newsletters, and the likes. I'll even add some of my characters' birthday and anniversaries there.

You can join the shared calendar here. If the link doesn't work, you can scan the code below or type bit.ly/amstoriescalendar to your browsers.

Should there be any changes in my schedule of postings, you can always check the calendar for reference. You could also enter this Telegram channel for important updates and announcements. I'll keep you updated if there's any change.

Thank you for being with me for the past year(s). I hope you'll be with me again for this new year. I'm excited to spend my 2023 with you, my RNAs. Happy new year, my loves. May this 2023 be nice to each and everyone of you.

nagsusulat, AM

[sockablock]

When Essek's old alter ego is suddenly asked by Da'leth to work at Soltryce Academy, nine semi-retired adventurers are thrust back into a web of danger, intrigue, and wizardly shenanigans. (Surprise, surprise! I’m back with another Shadowgast WIP)

Chapter 1: The Worst-Case Scenario

Caleb watched Essek hover back and forth like a miniature, panicked storm cloud.

“This is ridiculous! It must be some kind of joke. We haven't had any contact for years, and now he expects me to believe him? What is he playing at?”

“Breathe, Essek, breathe. You will not solve this mystery by wearing a hole in—above—the carpet.”

“What?” Essek looked down, then stopped floating. “Oh. My apologies. I’m a bit…well, you know.”

“I would be too.” There was urging in Caleb’s voice. “Take a seat, Schatz. Let me see the letter.”

Essek obliged, handing over a crumpled scroll right before collapsing heavily into his chair. The fire of a cold late-autumn evening cast their den in gold and orange light.

“Does he explain himself?” Caleb turned the scroll the right way around. “Does he say why?”

“Has Da’leth ever done that?” Essek snorted. “All he wrote was that I—rather, that Thain, had been selected. And I only have two days to respond.”

Caleb waved his hand, and a glowing orb appeared. He brought it closer to the parchment. “May I?”

“Please.”

“To the esteemed Lord Dezran Thain of Nicodranas—good grief. He really isn’t subtle.”

“Tell me about it,” Essek said.

“Perhaps,” Caleb continued, “you are aware of the ongoing investigations into the Cerberus Assembly. If so, then perhaps you have also heard that Archmage Tversky and Archmage Margolin will be leaving our ranks by the end of the week—ah yes, Beau was quite proud of that.”

“She should be,” Essek said miserably. “It’s about time. Read the next part.”

“And so it falls on the surviving members of our organization to fill these vacant roles. We believe, for the safety and stability of our country, that the next Archmages of Conscription and Dysology should come from within the Empire; however, it has been brought to our attention that adding a Nicodranian mage to our ranks could be quite valuable. Such an alliance would strengthen our ties to the Menagerie Coast, as well as assuage any concerns that the Empire is isolationist or inflexible. Therefore, as we have been friends for some time—really?”

Essek made a face. “I would not have called him my ‘friend’ in any form, but we have known each other for a few decades. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately,” Caleb commiserated. He smoothed out the letter and found his place again. “—I wished to have the pleasure of informing you that on behalf of the Cerberus Assembly, you, Lord Dezran Thain of Nicodranas, have been extended the honor of replacing Archmage Margolin in his secondary capacity—as the distinguished and peerless Headmaster of the Soltryce Academy. Oh. My gods.”

Essek groaned. He had his head buried in his hands.

“You Identified this already?” Caleb managed eventually.

Essek nodded. “I wish I hadn’t.”

Caleb continued to stare at the letters. The fluid, curving script seemed to blur all together. “That’s…gods,” he said again.

“Agreed.”

“I…can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

Essek snorted. “Actually, if anyone could, it would be you.” Then something occurred to him. Suddenly, the hearth shone an odd color in his eyes. “This was delivered to our home. To this house, in Rexxentrum. Yours. That…bastard.”

Caleb was quick to understand. He took a deep breath, then reached over for Essek’s hand.

“Maybe it was just enchanted to find you wherever you are. Like a Sending spell.”

“I’d hate to think otherwise. That would mean—”

Caleb interrupted him out of mercy. “Every inch of our tower is warded from divination. Besides, you’ve adopted an endless array of personas. I don’t even think we’ve been seen together with you as Thain, not since the party years ago.”

“Still.” Essek rubbed his eyes. “The timing makes me think he knows something. That, and the fact that it’s for Thain, I mean—what has Thain accomplished? I don’t even remember telling anyone I was a mage!”

“That, ah…that might have been Jester’s fault. She really enjoyed adding to your personas. You needed a past, after all, otherwise you would have just appeared from nowhere.”

“So she told everyone that Thain was a famous wizard?”

“The best lies are often true,” Caleb shrugged. “Though I admit that she might have gone a little overboard. You know how much she likes to praise her friends.”

It was a testament to Essek’s troubled mood that he barely acknowledged this. Caleb squeezed his fingers. “They said…they did say you could reject them. And their political reasoning is not unsound. Maybe that is all there is to it—the Assembly needs someone to be the Headmaster, and they thought of you.”

Even after so many years of trying, Caleb’s reassuring voice still left some things desired. Essek shut his eyes.

“My love, the very idea that the Cerberus Assembly is even thinking of me is a nightmare.”

 “Fair enough.”

“I just want to know why,” Essek muttered. “Why now? Why me? What is he after?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb said. “I wish I did.”

Essek suddenly turned toward him. “I—I hate to ask this, but can you find out? You know…ask our old friend the newest Archmage.”

“Ah.” Caleb’s face gave a complicated shuffle, one common these days when Astrid was mentioned.

“If you don’t want to—” Essek hurried.

“No, no, I can…try.” He scratched his chin. “She’s just been less open, lately. She’s not…pleased by how thorough the Soul is being. Beauregard is relentless.”

“It has been seven years. That’s a lot for your kind, but probably just enough for Da’leth to finally realize they mean business—” Essek blinked. “Do you think that’s why he picked me?”

“We don’t know that he’s behind this,” Caleb said lamely. At Essek’s expression, he relented. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop suggesting otherwise.”

“It’s not unappreciated, I just prefer to be direct. It is clear that Da’leth is trying to use me again. This time, in order to hurt you and the Cobalt Soul. There is no point in believing otherwise.”

Caleb brushed Essek’s face. “No, that would require him to think he could use you in the first place. But that is impossible, because Thain does not know Widogast.”

“He does, though.”

“Yes, but is Da’leth aware of that? He cannot be.”

“I thought we put an end to that.”

“Only to statements of idle hope, not facts.” Caleb was now holding both his hands. “The truth of the matter is that…yes, perhaps the Martinet does want you for some devious plan—”

“Oh, lovely—”

“—however, any plan he has cannot be based on our connection. We have been doing this…being us, for seven years now, Essek. If he were going to play against that hand, he would have done so already. This must be something else.”

Essek huffed. “What, though? What reason does he have? I haven’t been important to the Kryn for years. I resigned, I’m virtually a stranger there, and I certainly don’t have any more secrets for sale.” He paused. “Well, ones that Ludinus would desire. I’m useless to him.”

“I highly doubt that,” Caleb said. And his voice, while kind, had a faint edge to it. “You are right in that there probably is some motivation here. It might be related to the investigation in other ways—after all, two members of the Assembly are leaving. That makes four upheavals in under a decade. And if the Soul and the crown are both pushing for the appointment of more partial Archmages, then it might very well be the case that Da’leth just wants someone he can control. In your case, through blackmail.”

“Hooray for me.”

“He probably wouldn’t, though,” Caleb said. “Since, as you said, this is a situation of mutually assured destruction.”

Essek grimaced. “I have been somewhat wishful in that department. Even with your support, it is still my word against the Martinet.”

“Our word. That includes the Cobalt Soul.”

Essek shook his head. “You’ve seen how well he’s stood up to them so far. Can you honestly say that my safety is a sure thing? Don’t lie to me, Caleb.”

There was a pause.

“Essek, I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

"I know." He patted Caleb on the hand.

Outside their tower, far away, the evening bells of the Rexxentrum began to ring. One, and then two, and then almost a dozen, loud and bronze across the dimming sky.

“There is one way to find out for sure what Da’leth is planning.”

Essek sighed. “I know. But I don’t like it.”

Caleb leaned back in his seat. “Neither do I.”

The cry of the great bells waned. In their den, all around the wall, points of magelight flared to life—flickering and purple harbingers of night.

“Will you do it?” Caleb said.

“I don’t know if I have a choice.”

“You do,” Caleb said. “The worst-case scenario is that Da’leth tries to talk, and we…deal with that.”

“We’ve been trying to deal with him for years,” Essek said. “And…maybe this is bold of me to say, but the worst-case scenario isn’t that—it’s not knowing. Maybe I can…maybe I can find the answers here. If Da’leth thinks he is controlling me, if he trusts me to do his bidding, maybe I can finally learn something to break his hold.”

“As long as he never truly controls you,” Caleb said. “That is a risk I cannot accept.”

This time, Essek was the one to offer assurance. He gently pressed a kiss to Caleb’s hand.

“You forget,” he said wryly. “I am a powerful wizard. Haven’t you heard my title?”

“Shadowhand?” Caleb said. He did not look fully mollified, but he managed a chuckle. “I thought you were retired.”

Essek smiled. “I was, my love, but now it seems that I have a new role. Starting soon...you will be sharing your home with the next Headmaster of the Soltryce Academy.”

—

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN :3

[dreadfutures]

This question has a lot of possible answers, but I really want to start writing a longfic of my inquisitor, but I don't know how to start such a big project, i suppose?

Do you have any advice?

Thank you for the ask! I'm very flattered, and I hope anything I say resonates. insert many shrug emojis. my opinions, my experiences, my criticism, whatever is contained in the rant below, isn't universal.

My advice is first to figure out what you need to finish. I don't mean to come up with an ending necessarily--rather, what will motivate you to reach the finish line? Do the introspection and get to know yourself honestly. Do you need a cheerleader? Is it having a specific ending scene in mind that will motivate you? Is it having a clear path forward (like an outline) of steps you need to make to get your story from start to finish? Is it consistent feedback? Something else? Do you need visuals and commissions to keep you happy? Do you need to RP a character to embody them?

(For me, it's consistent feedback that helps keep me motivated!)

Then, set yourself up for success. The key to writing a longfic is...writing a long fic.

There are a million reasons not to write a fic, and a million reasons to stop writing a fic. Most of them are self-derived, and so you want to set yourself up not to self-sabotage. You want to be in a position of trust with yourself where you are neither making things unduly hard on yourself, nor sucking the joy out of writing for preventable reasons. You want to trust that the reason you stop writing your fic is because you truly, honestly, no longer wish to write it because you just don't want to tell that story anymore. Not because you aren't getting attention (whatever attention means); not because you got negative feedback for an idea or character; not because you are failing to meet a Standard of Excellence that doesn't exist.

Fuck the rules of writing.

There's a million self help articles about writing best-practices. They can be a great way to see how people approach it. Maybe something will work for you! But don't treat advice as rules. Don't let anything suck the joy out of creation. Write because you want to write; write how you want to write. It can be out of order. It can be chronological. It can be outline-first, or totally improvisational. There's no right or wrong way to write a story! And you can absolutely change the way you write as you go along, if something isn't bringing you joy or helping you tell the story you want to tell, the way you want to tell it. But step one of writing a longfic is committing to yourself that you're going to treat yourself kindly, and write it for the sake of writing it. :)

If you need a cheerleader, consistent feedback, etc., join a writing community.

Whether or not you end up posting things as you write them, or waiting until you are absolutely done writing to post things--it is very hard to get consistent feedback from readers alone. Having a positive and supportive writing community that encourages consistent and ongoing sharing and mutual appreciation is a great motivator. A community is a place of mutual support, a group of like-minded people who want to see each other succeed at a common way of life.

There are many wonderful writing communities out there. Discord, writeblr, writing twitter, dreamwidth, or even the NaNoWriMo forums! REMEMBER, these spaces EXIST for YOU to USE. So stop being shy and USE THEM. Treat them as a tool, if you need to. But a community can't help you if you don't engage with it. People want to hear about your story plot, your characters' motivations, the weird research you're doing into 18th century crown molding or italian glass-works murders. Don't be a drain or a drag -- be sure to offer what you receive, too! -- but also if YOU need support then YOU need to stop lurking and YOU need to engage and YOU need to ask for whatever it is YOU need out of that space. :)

If you need organization and structure, look into classical story structures and get something on the fucking page.

You of course do not need to follow rules, but they can be helpful handlebars to getting your ideas out of this chaos of bullet points and random gushing and into something more like a story. You will find what works for you! Getting an outline down, feeling accomplished, and knowing what's ahead of you can be so important to self-motivation.

When I'm in a place where I need to outline, I usually gush into paragraphs, then break them down into bullet points of actions/events and their consequences, and then I write them on index cards and move them around until I have a plot that I like. Then, I tackle writing them according to the mood of those scenes/arcs/whatnot, and whatever my mood is at the time. But that's just my process, and my point is to find your process. :)

Write. Commit to writing. Put words in front of other words. Do not worry about if they're the right words; do not worry if they're in the right structure or right order.

If you are an organized finish-the-story-before-you-ever-post-chapter-one kind of writer (this is my approach to my original fiction) you will likely want to edit things a lot. Prune and curate and polish....when you're done. Your outline may tell you where you need to go and what your ending is, but you really truly absolutely cannot know if something works or not...if something is missing or not...until it is ALL laid out as a whole. Nitpicking and kicking yourself over the grammar of chapter 4 when you still have 12 chapters to go after that just means you will never write chapter 12. It is absolutely okay to trash everything you've written once you reach the end in that kind of process! But you want to have a bird's eye view to make those kinds of decisions, and not be toiling away in the fields season after season without seeing any kind of fruit of your labor.

On the other hand, if you're an improv writer (I post-as-soon-as-a-chapter-is-done for fanfics, and that means that what happened in the last chapter...has to make sense for what happens in the next chapter, hence the 'improv' analogy)--committing to writing can be hard. But it's the same idea as I just described. You won't actually know how you're doing, how your story is turning out, until...it's turning out.

Take off the pressure. It's fanfic.

You can edit things once they've been posted! You can rewrite! You can have different "version" and "editions" or whatever your heart wishes! It's okay! There's no right way or wrong way to write fanfic, except to NOT write fanfic!

You can have silly moments that aren't "tight, lean story telling." You can get away with including things that would get trimmed out of a traditionally published novel. You can have drabbles and spin offs and write what-ifs and take breaks, you can fuck around for a whole month and not write a single thing if you need to recharge, you can write out of order, you can post things in chunks or serialized installments, you can finish the thing wholly and post it every monday, or you can try and sit down and pants-it every saturday, or have no posting schedule at all!

You're not making money off of this. You're not trying to do Search Engine Optimization or develop a Following and become an Influencer by writing this. If that's what you want...there are WAY easier avenues than by writing, let alone by writing fanfic. Don't rob yourself of the joy of writing a cool story about a character you made up and throwing them into situations you concocted, just because there's some bar you set so high for yourself for............fanfiction.

And...don't delete your art!!!!

If you're going to delete your art by golly be sure it's not a form of self harm. So many people are like "my fic isn't getting engaged with, and that must mean it sucks and that must mean I suck, so i'm going to delete it." Well, now there is absolutely no way anyone CAN engage with it, or tell you that you don't suck, and in fact you will probably be LESS LIKELY TO BELIEVE someone when they say you don't suck because you removed any evidence that they might point to about what they liked!!!

Just post another version of the fic! Let your old readers know! Or just who cares, rewrite it and replace it. But don't delete your craft out of self harm, goddamn,

[nervousmendes]

Unsent Part 1 - Shawn Mendes

shawn x reader

a/n : so I'm finally back afer a really long break and I've been so excited to edit and post this one. I should also mention that is my first time writing angst so please be kind. any feedback would be much appreciated!

warnings : none, just 1.5k words of amateur angst and heartbreak

find more of my work : masterlist

It was a pleasant Saturday, the sun was long gone and the moonlight that spilled through the window was just enough to relax you while you worked on your research paper. Doing a PhD was never easy, and now that classes were going on in full swing, you were almost convinced that it was impossible. Your days mostly just consisted of you going to classes, working on essays, trips to the library and maybe watch a little Netflix before you hit the sack. It was a routine now, and you were always used to this life. You found your calm in the chaos whenever you could talk to your boyfriend who was touring somewhere in some city across the ocean. With your time zones never matching and him constantly traveling it was impossible to keep up with his schedule but you both did your best to stay as connected as possible.

When tour first kicked off, you missed Shawn so much. You hated the distance and you spent hours on end talking to him on facetime, blowing kisses and whining about wanting "virtual cuddles". It was a nightly ritual for the two of you to facetime immediately after his show, and since he was still in America at the time, it was easier to find a way to talk when you were both free. Even when you'd be too busy looking into your laptop screen while he was performing for thousands of excited teenagers every other night, there was some kind of warmth, some affirmation, that at the end of the day it was always going to be the two of you together until forever. Even though the physical distance made you sad, your relationship with him never seemed to burn out. Your love for each other was always so strong that the thought of being apart from each other never threatened your relationship.

But things shifted with time and the routine facetime calls went from after every show to every alternate show and then to every few days. You'd only text each other once or twice a day and it always felt like it was just for the sake of it. Sometimes you would go about your entire day and only realize before going to bed that you hadn't thought of him or spoken to him once throughout. You now knew more about him through his Instagram stories than you did from what he told you about tour. The quick ‘I love you’s exchanged before hanging up felt more mechanical than natural. Of course it hurt you, it made you feel guilty and made your heart ache at the same time, but you knew deep down that he was feeling that way too. It's not like he remembered to text you every single day either. It now turned into a subconscious competition of who would start the conversation first. Every text was thought out, typed, backspaced and rephrased. It felt like you didn't know each other as well as you once did. You would overthink not knowing whether a read receipt would do or a reply would be more reassuring. Everything seemed different, and not at all in a good way. As much as you hated to even think of it, a part of you felt that maybe you didn't love him anymore but your heart would never let you admit that.

You often went to bed not feeling sleepy at all, replaying all the memories from the initial stages of your relationship. The giddy first date, the awkward first kiss, the butterflies, the cheesy gifts and all the sneaking around. It felt like you were both different people back then. And maybe you just grew up or grew out of it, but does real love ever fade away? Does it suddenly empty itself and leave a void in your heart? How does it just make everything go away? You always thought, no you knew that he was the one. You still remember eighteen months ago at the fair, when he went down on one knee holding a huge stick of cotton candy in his hand, asking you to be "his honorable girlfriend until the end of time" and promised to never break your heart, you kissed him with everything in you right outside the Ferris wheel knowing in your heart that you already kind of wanted this forever. He had always been the one.

You both appreciated the little things, it was kind of what built your relationship with him. The reassuring glances from across a crowded room that made you uncomfortable, the hand around your waist when a distant friend would be “too nice” to you or the way his fingers played with your hair after a long, disheartening day were some of the many things you loved about your relationship with him. You always felt the need to be physically connected to him and it was almost common knowledge that Shawn's love language too was touch. You desperately missed the way his hand would automatically lace with yours while you walked together and the warmth it spread in you when his hands would go to the back of your neck to leave a tender kiss to your lips. And when one of you had a rough day, the other would kiss the stray tears away and you would both hold each other so tight until your ragged breaths would slow down and your hearts would beat to the rhythm of each other's pulse. All of that now felt like a distant memory, it was like you had him and lost him at the same time. Everything you once had with each other slipped right through your fingers. You would kill to go back in time and figure out anything you could've done differently to give this all a miss because the thought of even having to talk about the collected weight on both of your chests physically pained you. What if this was over? And even if it's not, what if there's nothing left to give? How were you going to go on knowing he's not yours anymore? While you learnt to live a life without him, you never once forgot that he would come right back to you. And now maybe he won’t and there’s nothing you could do about it. So many questions and so many thoughts ran through your head as you were still staring at the text you received about five minutes ago.

Hey I landed sometime back. On my way to Pickering. See u tomorrow?             - Shawn

No “babe”. No “honey”. Nothing about the movies he watched on the flight, or the occasional "Omg we're SO watching it together". It was a plain text just to keep you informed. Mechanical. You thought back to the last time he came home from tour, when he first showed up at your door and pushed for you to come spend the weekend with him and his family in Pickering. Gone were those days when he'd ring you up as soon as he had service on his phone again to tell you how tiring the flight was or how much he hated the food, and on hearing that you would order his favourite pizza before he got home. You read and re-read the insipid words on your screen and after a lot of thinking, with a doubtful mind, you typed out a simple response. 

Yes. Hope your flight was okay, get some rest tonight!

After humming and hawing for long enough, you hit send and patiently waited for the thumbs up he left under your text as an instant response. His lack of interest in continuing the conversation did sting, but you quickly pushed it away considering the fact that you were going to meet him the very next day and he’d clearly already had a tiring flight back to Toronto. You shifted around, pulling your blanket closer up to your face and just as you turned away and closed your eyes, the screen of your phone lit up again.

We need to talk, don't we... - Shawn

Shawn sat in his car parked outside his childhood home, right leg bouncing unconsciously and staring intently at the text he had just sent. He patiently waited for it to go from 'delivered' to 'read'. But it didn't. His bouncing leg was now shivering and the words he regretted typing out were staring right back at him. His fingers trembled over the screen, and with a shaky breath he unsent the message without giving it another thought. He took his bags and walked up to Karen and Manny at the door smiling widely as he silently thanked technology for saving him. But little did he know that your eyes were on the screen of your phone as you read those nauseating words under his contact name, and then watched the pop up disappear a minute after.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I'm already working on part 2 and I can't wait to post it soon!! hope you liked this <3

dm me or reply to get added/removed from my taglist.

taglist : @theregoesmyherojd @shawnmendez @mendesficsxbombay @madatmendes @samaratheweirdo @mendesassemble @vinylmendes @ghostofjuls @shawnsreputation @amateurwriter27 @shawnblrficawards @shawnsprincesse

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter IV.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: The beginning of the end...

WORD COUNT: ~7.5k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: The start of a very wicked love triangle, slowburn slowburn slowburnnnn, mentions of religion (Catholicism), porn WITH plot !!!, some characterization, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: this took me longer than i anticipated solely bc i hate rereading my writing lol i'm tryin suuuuper hard to get javi's characterization down so i hope i'm doing him justice fr 🙏🏽 the plot is slowly getting started and i'm just rly hype for it bc i love the whole southern gothic vibe like it EATS!!! anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

“You know, most guys woulda thrown in the towel by now.” Paloma tells him, legs steadily peddling her bicycle as Javier drives in his cruiser alongside her. 

“Most guys are idiots, querida.” He replies cooly, one arm dangling lazily out of the driver’s side window and his aviators sitting pretty on the bridge of his nose.

Paloma’s laugh rings out beautifully and he can’t keep himself from smiling. “S’no wonder they quit on you. You’re stubborn as hell.” He grumbles, thinking of the various times that she’s rejected his offer to drive her wherever she needed.

Initially, Javier’s behavior bordered on being a downright nuisance, deliberately encroaching on her personal space with excessive proximity. It wasn’t entirely due to his duties; rather, he found amusement in witnessing her irritation. The combination of her sharp retorts and accompanying eye rolls became an addictive response he couldn’t resist provoking.

It was entertaining, to say the least.

Amidst his constant patrolling, Javier got to learn more about her little by little. Details like what her routine consists of and how she interacts with others.

It’s abundantly evident that Paloma is adored by nearly everyone she encounters. Her kindness, wit, talent… beauty. It’s thoughts like these that had him second guessing how he was approaching the sheriff’s orders.

It was making him feel like a stalker, honestly, so he decided to pull back a bit. She is grown, after all, and she’s reminded him of that fact almost daily. 

So, Javier gave her the space they both need. Not following her around everywhere or posting up outside her job. During his downtime, he is able to put more analytical attention on the current homicide case. Starting with the guy that had lingered at Nina’s funeral.

He asked around, trying to get any information about a potential boyfriend or anything of that nature but came up empty handed.

Paloma grins proudly at his words. “You say stubborn I say strong-willed. I do appreciate you easing off, though.” She looks over at him and he admires how pretty she looks beneath the sunlight.

Brown hair clipped up into a messy updo and a soft, yellow sundress adorning her body. A hidden gem in this vast and obscure town.

“‘Least I could do. Helps me think, too, drivin’ around.” Javier keeps himself from reminiscing on his days in Colombia and the endless amount of stakeouts he’d been apart of. Sure, his ass would get numb and most of the time they acquired nothing but it helped him analyze any and every detail he could examine; often the copious amount of time he spent trying to piece everything together lead to a bigger break in the investigation.

He’s just applying the same technique here. Unfortunately, he hasn’t been able to make anything out of it all.

“Ah, so the car is your go to spot? Mine is the abandoned tracks over by Montrose. For some reason, I think better there… if that makes any sense.” The conversation continues easily and naturally. That is another thing he’s come to learn about her, Paloma is very amiable.

“It makes sense, muñeca. You shouldn’t go by yourself, though. Don’t know who could be followin’ you all the way out there…”

“I think it’s an officer that goes by Peña and I’m pretty sure he’s stalking me.” She teases him and he rolls his eyes, letting out a dry chuckle.

Javier really wants to urge her to let him take her to work but he knows she’ll challenge him.

Thinner strands of her hair stick to her neck and other damp areas of her face; the sweat on her thighs which he can see gleam beneath the hot sun each time she pedals. That leather seat she’s sitting on must be uncomfortable.

“I’m sure he’s just trying to make sure that you don’t run into any trouble. Which is why I think you should let me give you a ride to the library before you pass out and die of heat exhaustion tryin’ to bike there.” Javier tilts his head to the side to look at her and she stays quiet, thinking over his words before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Fine, but only because it’s hot as shit and I may or may not be jealous of the A/C in your cruiser.” He can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips as she caves in, rolling the vehicle to a smooth stop and putting it into park so that he could mount her bicycle to the back of it.

Javier’s eyes trail over her form as her back is turned to him, grabbing her things out of the small basket. If her father knew the scandalous thoughts he had about her— he’d have him quartered and drawn. That does have a wave of guiltiness wash over him since the man is trusting him fully to look out for her and her wellbeing.

Which he is, in that regard Romeo has nothing to worry over, it’s Javier’s attraction to her that’s messing with his conscience.

It doesn’t help that Paloma plays into it, feigning innocence when she gets a reaction out of him. Maybe he shouldn’t be so reactive.

“I got it.” Javier insists, taking ahold of the metal handle and brushing up against her as he does so. He feels her body stiffen at the sudden touch yet he keeps a satisfied simper at bay.

“Thank you, officer.” She recovers smoothly with that intriguing timbre she uses when they banter flirtatiously.

It is so wrong yet so right of them to continue whatever this is. Seeing just how far they can take it before the inevitable happens. Javier will hold off as much as he can, really he will, for the sake of his job and budding friendship with Romeo… if she ever decides to be explicit in her demands, however, it’s going to take a lot of willpower to not give in.

Once the bike is secured and she’s in the cruiser, he hops back into the driver’s seat and begins the drive into town.

The ride is silent at first, Paloma shoving her face in front of the small vents on the passenger side and letting the gust of air cool her down. He catches glimpses from his peripheral as she digs through her bag to pull out a satin handkerchief, wiping her face and neck, then her thighs.

He can’t help as his stare follows the motion of her dragging the fabric along her smooth and sweaty skin. Almost jealous of the damn thing, imagining it to be his touch instead.

“I wouldn’t be in this predicament had my car been fixed…” she breaks their silence, peeking over at him as she fixes up her hair. It’s clear he understands the implication behind her words.

“I did volunteer myself to take a look at it, didn’t I?” Javier responds as she sprits some perfume onto her wrists and behind her ear, rolling on some deodorant and just like that Paloma’s freshened up. Now the cab of his cruiser smells like her and it’s going to drive him fucking insane.

“If I remember correctly, yes.” He stops at an intersection, finally being able to look at her properly. 

“You free Saturday?”

“You askin’ me out on a date?” Paloma’s eyes twinkle in pure mischief.

“Your dad would kill me if I did that.”

“In front of the whole town, too. Make an example outta you.”

“I’m tryin’ to steer very clear of that, so no, baby, unfortunately I’m not askin’ you out on a date. I’ve got time to stop by and take a look at it before I go in for my shift.”

Paloma purses her lips in thought as Javier trudges forward, the terrain changing from dirt road to asphalt as they near the library.

“Yeah, you can come by at lunch. Daddy’s out all weekend on some huntin’ trip with his friends so… I’ll be home alone.” It’s tantalizing, the way she drops that tidbit of information at the end. Javier is well aware of Romeo’s absence but he hadn’t stopped to think what that meant for him and Paloma.

As if there is a him and Paloma.

She flirts and eyes him like she would let him have his way with her but she is also strong-willed and and clever enough to be leading him on.

He’s just now built some rapport with her and he doesn’t want to jeopardize it. They can continue flirting without crossing the physical threshold. 

“Alright, nena, I’ll see you at lunch Saturday.” He’s in front of the main entrance to the building now.

“It’s a date, officer.”

“You must want me dead.” He huffs.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.” She pauses, biting down on her lower lip, “It’ll be our little secret.” Paloma whispers before opening the door.

He begins to swell in his pants as her voice drops into a whisper, words coated in seductive suggestion at the idea of them fooling around inconspicuously. 

“Wait, your bike—” He’s already reaching down to unbuckle himself when she stops him, leaning in through the open window of the now closed door.

“Don’t worry about it. You can take me home later. I get off at 6.” She winks at him, pulling back and turning on her heels to walk inside.

Javier slumps in his seat, head falling back against the headrest as he reminds himself how fucked he is.

When Saturday afternoon rolls around, Javier’s heart is racing in anticipation of his alone time with Paloma at the Leighton residence.

All week he’s been plagued with profane scenarios of what could potentially unfold. Partially because he hasn’t gotten laid since returning stateside but also for his unwavering carnal desire for her.

The fact that she is irrevocably off limits only intensifies his yearning. He wants Paloma so bad because he can’t have her.

That’s lead to him finishing into his fist in the shower, images of her kneeled before him with her mouth wrapped around his cock at the forefront of his mind.

The first time it had happened, he felt like a damn teenager getting off to a crush. But then it continued to happen and at that point he just let his fantasies run amuck. 

It’s not like he’d ever tell her or anyone for that matter, so his illicit imagination will continue to be just that: fleeting thoughts. Guilty pleasures only he can indulge in.

He pulls onto the property with ease, cutting the engine and sitting there for a minute to collect himself. It’s embarrassing for Javier to give himself a pep talk at his grown age, ‘keep your shit together’ his new mantra.

With his metallic toolbox in hand, he’s ready to knock against the screen door when he hears music playing faintly nearby. He follows the tune, rounding the corner of the wraparound porch to the backyard.

The music is recognizable now, a Fleetwood Mac song and his eyes fall on the girl lounging peacefully.

Paloma’s in a hammock, her long legs crossed over one another and hanging from the side. She’s reading a romance novel, he notes, from the incredibly cliché cover of a buff man with a half dressed woman in his grasp. He can faintly hear her humming along to the song, fingers tapping in rhythm against the hardcover of the book.

“Hola muñequita.” Javier greets suavely which has her peeking over her book then smiling wildly when she sees him.

“You made it!” Paloma excitedly stands from her spot, allowing him get a better look at her. She’s got on a red bikini top and a jean mini skirt. He wasn’t prepared to see this much of her bare skin and it throws him off entirely. So much for that pep talk.

It is a magnificent sight, though. Thankfully his sunglasses shield her from his wandering gaze, but with the intensity of his stare, she can probably feel it.

Javier knows her figure is divine, all the different outfits she wears both around town and on stage showcased her assets tastefully. However, seeing her in a top that’s almost too small and a skirt that’s definitely too short has those desires of his ramping up viciously. 

It doesn’t help that she’s got a dainty, golden cross necklace hanging from her neck. It rests tantalizingly against the smooth skin right above the swell of her breasts. So many things he fantasizes about doing to her and none of them holy. The piece of jewelry reminds him that he needs to back off. 

Amidst his leering, Javier notices a faint scar running from the left side of her hip up to below her breast and he’s curious to know how it got there.

“You had an inclination that I wouldn’t make it?” He returns to the conversation before it’s painfully obvious that he’s checking her out.

Paloma smirks, meeting him halfway as he descends the steps of the porch to approach her. Her hands cross behind her back and she stares up at him through her mascara coated lashes. “Figured you’d probably wanna spend your Saturday afternoon at home instead of playin’ mechanic.” She sways lightly and he narrows his eyes at her. 

He can see right through her act, not that she’s being very subtle.

“I’m a man of my word. Already been puttin’ off this visit longer than I should have.” He can’t help himself from bringing his finger up to twirl a strand of her hair, enjoying the silkiness of it against his touch before letting it fall softly against her.

If they hold their gaze a second longer, one of them will break and while Javier is certain that it’d be blissful, it would also be a mistake.

“Here, I’ll take you to her. She’s in the shed.” It’s like she can read his mind, nudging her head in the direction of the small structure and she turns to begin leading him there, in which he follows wordlessly, not being elusive at all as he gets a better look at her from this angle. The skirt is just barely covering the curve of her ass, and a flash of red is revealed each time she takes a step.

He bites down on his tongue harshly, adverting his gaze and thinking of literally anything else to keep his erection away.

He surveys the area of the backyard, not seeing a pool or any body of water nearby and he wonders why she has the bathing suit on.

Not that it should matter to him. She’s probably just tanning, you pervert. It’s hotter than hell out today.

Paloma’s humming again as she goes to remove the wooden plank that keeps the door of the shed closed, grunting as she struggles to pull it free. The soft sounds she emits do nothing but make it harder for him to show some fucking resilience.

“Do you need help—” Javier’s cut off as she successfully slides the thick piece off, resting it against the metal wall and dusting her hands off on her skirt.

“Appreciate it, though.” She flashes him a toothy grin, the wide doors creak as she pulls them open; revealing a beautiful vintage car. 

Javier lets out a low whistle, perching his sunglasses on the top of his head and placing his toolbox on the ground as he walks around the vehicle to get a better look at it.

His hands fall to his hips, circling the area slowly and shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re tellin’ me the mechanic didn’t jump at the chance to fix this thing?”

“Like you said, most men are idiots.” He can’t help but laugh, exhaling from his nose.

“S’always interestin’ to see it in practice.” He returns to the front of the car, propping open the hood and getting a better look inside. “You got the keys?”

“In the visor.” She replies, “Good luck tryin’ to get her to start. All she does is stutter before given’ out entirely.”

Javi makes a note of that, acknowledging her with a hum, already seeing a few things out of place and he’s eager to get to working on it.

Before turning to law enforcement, Javi had the inkling to become a mechanic. Plenty of his uncles worked in auto shops and he has vivid memories of spending hours there with them learning everything he could under their supervision.

Experiences he holds near and dear to his heart, it’s part of the reason why he’s so clever and dexterous.

“I’ve got some stuff I gotta get done. Try not to miss me…” Paloma’s voice rings out and Javier hadn’t noticed that he zoned out.

He glances at her over his shoulder, “I’m more interested in gettin’ to know Darla, if I’m bein’ honest with you, hermosa.”

Paloma had to excuse herself before she quite literally jumped on Javier and had him take her against the hood of her car. The way he looked with his hands on his hips, eyes focused on admiring the vehicle had left her in a trance that she was sure if she stared any longer, she would have started drooling.

Something about the promise of seeing him sweaty and greased up had her mind spiraling with different erotic fantasies that would surely send her to straight to hell.

So she properly lets him be, busying herself with a few chores she has to get done before leaving for the creek with Sloane later. It is the first time Paloma will be meeting August and she’s nervous even though she doesn’t look it.

She finished the book Slo had passed on to her in a matter of days, intrigued to learn more about August’s ideas and the concepts he’s clearly very passionate about. When she relayed this over to Slo, the middleman between the two, she wasted no time in conjuring up a plan for them to meet. Originally, it was going to be more intimate with just the two of them but Paloma stressed that she was not ready for that so Sloane was quick to make it a group affair by suggesting they hang out by the creek.

It’s why she is currently clad in a bathing suit, with the summer at full send; being down by the water seemed like the best way to spend the latter half of her afternoon.

Right now, though, she’s more focused on not trying to fuck her dad’s friend slash co-worker.

Some time passes, and when Paloma takes a look out in the direction of the shed, she sees that he’s ditched his flannel, leaving him in a white undershirt and his broad shoulders are now on full display as he leans over the hood.

That’s when she sees it. It glistens beneath the sunlight, a silver pistol tucked between his jeans at his lower back. She knows officers carry a weapon on them at all times, but the unorthodox placing of Javier’s further adds to the appeal of this alluring man. God damn him and his desirability. 

Paloma’s mind now wanders to the repeated wet dream she keeps having, the one where Javier takes her on the wooden railing of the porch. Specifically, the variation where he’s kneeled in front of her, her dress covering his face as he devours her entirely.

She interlocks her fingers in his hair and tugs at it, in which he responds by wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking on it harshly. That leaves her wailing and panting his name over and over and over again…

The force in which her thighs clench together is enough to snap her out of her delusions. She’s no better than a man, really, and she huffs to herself as she reenters the house to grab the six pack of beers, her guitar and notebook before sauntering over to him.

She’s more than capable of handling just being around Javier without thinking sinfully. It’s why she’s walking like a woman with a purpose, trying to prove to herself that she can be totally normal about this… budding friendship she has with him.

“How’s it goin’ in here?” Her voice cuts through the sound of the radio that continues to play softly. She brought it in here for him to have some entertainment before she hurried off to the house.

Javier pulls back, lips twitching up into a smirk as he eyes the beers in her hand. “Goin’ fine. Whoever you took her to really fucked it up. No wonder he couldn’t figure out what the problem was. It’s everythin’.” Back of his hand wipes sweat from his brow, some of his hair matted against his damp skin. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

“Never said that. I just said on occasion.” She reminds him, popping the cap off of two beers then handing him one. He thanks her softly, wiping his hand on the already stained rag and tucking it into his back pocket. 

Her knees almost go weak at the action, but she’s a woman on a mission, remember?

“So what’s the occasion today?”

“It’s hot as fuck outside.” They share a laugh and tap their bottles together before taking a long sip.

“And the guitar?” 

Paloma sits on the wooden chair nearby, her spot whenever she comes in here to keep her dad company while he’s in the middle of building something. Most recently, some planter boxes she’d requested for their garden.

“I figured since I had some new company, I could play something for you. It helps move the writing process along.” She kicks her sandals off, tucking her legs beneath her and laying the guitar across her lap.

“I’m getting a peek behind the curtain of Paloma Leighton’s illustrious writing process? Well, I’m truly honored,” he remarks, dripping with sarcasm. She rolls her eyes at his jest but can’t help but chuckle, taking another sip of her beverage and downing it in one gulp.

She catches the intensity of his gaze lingering on her throat, tracing the subtle movements with each swallow. Paloma can’t help but entertain the thought: does he fantasize about her as she does about him?

“Don’t feel too special. I’m always playin’ somethin’ for someone.” She sets the finished bottle aside, thumbing through her notebook until she finds the adequate page and folds the tattered front so that it lays flat on the thick arm of the chair. 

As she does this, Javier lights a cigarette and puffs out a cloud of gray smoke. “You do it all yourself?” She can hear the curiosity in his tone and for some reason, it makes her blush.

“For the most part. The band just helps bring it all together. They add the umph to it… s’not always the case, though. Sometimes I oversee the entirety of it. From the lyrics to the melody and everything in between. It’s real fun.” She begins to tune her guitar, brows pulling in concentration as her ears perk up to catch any inconsistencies until she’s thoroughly pleased with how it sounds.

Javier remains silent, his fond gaze lingering on her as he takes a drag from his cigarette. With practiced ease, he lifts the beer bottle to his lips, alternating between the two vices at a leisurely pace. As he delves deeper into understanding her, the allure intensifies, dangerously blurring the lines between flirtation and something more profound.

Something more. He’s trying real fucking hard not to see it like that. 

Javi’s never been inclined to seek deeper connections with his partners. Emotions and commitments tend to complicate matters, a burden he’s well-acquainted with in his already convoluted life. He sees no need to add unnecessary strain by entering into half-hearted relationships.

This is why he exclusively pursues sex, seeking gratification without the complications of emotional entanglements. His experiences in Colombia, where he didn’t mind paying for intimacy, epitomized this mindset. There, a mutual understanding prevailed: their encounters were solely about shared pleasure, with no expectation of anything beyond.

In the short months that he’s been here, Javi has finally began finding some kind of peace in Seminary, all things considered, and while fucking the sheriff’s daughter would be a bad move— catching feelings for her would be a hundred times worse.

“It’s a little morbid, m’still workin’ on it and it’s fairly short. S’just the chorus.” Javier nods, letting her know that he’s listening as she begins to sing.

“If I die young, bury me in satin Lay me down on a bed of roses, Sink me in the river at dawn Send me away with the words of a love song. The sharp knife of a short life, Now I know there’s no such thing as enough time.”

Her voice is softer, southern accent complimenting her strums on the guitar and while he enjoys the electrifying performances she puts on stage; he loves hearing her like this.

Rich and smooth. Like miel (honey).

“You’re right, it is morbid.” He comments, truthfully, and Paloma lets out a breath.

“I tried not lettin’ what happened to Nina get into my writing. No need to keep dwellin’ on it but damn is it hard to keep it away. Figured I’d just get it out of my system and get back to workin’ on my other stuff.” 

“There’s nothin’ wrong with dwelling on it…” He begins tentatively, already sensing a pang of regret for broaching the subject. Once more, he finds himself grappling with the challenge of articulating his thoughts effectively.

“I know, but for my peace of mind it’s best I just get on with it.” Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, fingers plucking at the guitar strings again.

For the next hour or so, they immerse themselves in conversation, delving into a wide array of topics. While Javier meticulously tends to the car’s engine, Paloma remains by his side, offering her company. Amidst their discussions, they explore trivial details about each other’s lives: favorite movies, food preferences, and other basic facts. Through these exchanges, Javier learns of Paloma’s irrational fear of reptiles, her affinity for sleeping with her windows open, and her distinct preference for waffles over pancakes.

Javier indulges in the easy flow of their conversation, sharing with her his fondness for spy novels, his penchant for card games, and reminiscing about his favorite arepa spot in Bogotá.

The latter captivates her, drawing her focus entirely. “I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you lived there for such a long time. It’s just unimaginable to me... A completely different country... so fascinating.” She muses, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

He’s eager to shift away from this subject, recognizing her genuine curiosity and good intentions. However, he’s apprehensive about delving into discussions about his past work and experiences, topics he’s not ready to broach. With a brief, dismissive response, he seeks to subtly steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Yup, lotta crazy shit…” He returns his attention to the engine and Paloma catches the hint and doesn’t say much else after.

“Paloma!” The sudden call of her name has them both turning their heads to the opened doors of the shed where he sees a girl her age standing on the porch, searching the area until her eyes fall on the two of them and she beelines in their direction.

“I’ve been knockin’ on your front door like a crazed woman for the past five minutes! There’s a random truck parked out there, what’re you doin’—” When the girl’s gaze lands on Javier, her entire body language switches and he raises his brows at the change. “I didn’t know you had company. Who’s this handsome fella?” 

Javier is accustomed to captivating the attention of women, especially the striking ones. They consistently cast him that same flirtatious glance, their gestures taking on an added want of attention. This encounter proves to be no exception. With her bottom lip captured between her teeth, she checks him out not so subtly, her gaze lingering on his toned arms before returning to meet his gaze, a playful spark dancing in her eyes.

Maybe this is exactly what he needs: a diversion to divert his attention from Paloma. Despite his intense desire for her, he knows it would only lead to complications in the future.

Pursuing women younger than himself is not the path he wishes to tread, especially since he (allegedly) left his playboy days behind in Colombia in pursuit of a fresh start.

Yet, amidst his longing for Paloma and the current lack of romantic encounters, Javier finds it difficult to view things in this new perspective.

Always thinking with the wrong head. It’s his achilles heel.

“Javi. What’s your name, gorgeous?” He smirks flirtatiously, wiping his hands clean on the rag again and reaching out to take her hand in his in a handshake.

“Sloane.” She squeezes his hand gently before letting go, sultry smile still present on her countenance.

“Sloane, pleasure to meet you sweetheart.”

Paloma doesn’t like the nasty feeling she gets as she watches the interaction. It’s clear as day that they’re flirting, and honestly what did she expect out of her best friend, and now, charming acquaintance?

She’s well aware of his rapport in Colombia and the daily flirtatious behavior towards her. Paloma’s also aware of how willing Slo is to fuck anything in her line of vision. Yet, not being on the receiving end of the former is odd and has her feeling things she doesn’t want to feel.

What really has her skin crawling is the way he calls her sweetheart and introduces himself as Javi. He’s never told her to call him that.

Honestly, she probably would have felt more green if he had called her hermosa or any of the other Spanish names of endearment he’s reserved for her. 

Reserved for her? She sounds so possessive. 

Sloane giggles, “You’re the one who’s been followin’ her around all over town on daddy’s orders, huh? P, you didn’t tell me he was this hot. I woulda told you to count your blessings had I known.” They exchange a look that Paloma really can’t stand catch sight of, so she interjects.

“Sorry I lost track of time. Javier’s been lookin’ at Darla tryna fix her.” His name rolls of her tongue smoothly and this has a smug smile sprouting on his face. 

No cowboy or officer or Mr. Peña. Just Javier.

She gets up from her seat, sliding her sandals back on and leaving her belongings where they lay.

“There’s a part or two that’s missin’ but it shouldn’t be hard to get ‘em. Other than that, my work here is done.” He turns his back to the two girls and Sloane mouths over to her.

Oh my god?!

Paloma shoots her a look as Javier slams the hood of the car closed.

“Thank you, Javier, I really appreciate you doin’ this for me.” Her tone is genuine, despite the jealousy that had consumed her just then.

“No problem, cariño, I’ll let you know when I get my hands on those missin’ parts.”

“That sounds great! How much do I owe you for—” He cuts her off with a wave of his hand, collecting his things. 

“Don’t worry about it. M’doin’ this out of the kindness of my heart. S’what you do for a friend, right?” Speaking of hearts, hers skips a beat at being considered a friend and she feels her cheeks getting hot. Get a grip!

“Yeah, I guess so.” Paloma refrains from saying thank you again, not wanting to overdo it but she really is appreciative of his hard work.

Maybe she could find another way to show just how much she appreciates him doing this for her.

“Gabriel’s waitin’ for us out front, baby. We’re already runnin’ late.” Slo’s voice snaps her back to reality and she nods. Javier clears his throat and side steps her.

“Hope y’all have fun. Be safe, hermosa. Call me if you need anythin’.” Warmth spreads within her chest at his words, which would have annoyed her had they been coming from anyone else.

There has definitely been a shift in their dynamic, but she can’t quite place what it is. The bitterness she felt just then definitely a factor.

“Sloane, darling, hopefully I’ll see you ‘round town soon.” And just like that, the warmth is gone as he addresses her best friend, a wink thrown in her direction before he’s leaving the two girls in the shed.

“Okay, you have a lot to catch me up on. Frankly, I’m pissed you haven’t sent him in my direction. I mean, look at him. That’s a whole man right there, dear lord I was about to cum just by shakin’ his hand!” Paloma cringes but she doesn’t let it show, instead pulling excitement from their afternoon plans to uplift her mood.

“How about we get goin’ before Gabriel ditches our asses and we’re left walkin’ all the way down there.”

It’s not much longer after that that they make it to their destination and Paloma rejoices in the feeling of the cool water against her hot skin. She ditched her mini skirt along the way, currently sitting in a more shallow end, head falling back against her shoulders as she soaks in the sun.

She can hear Gabriel and Sloane splashing around nearby, and she contemplates joining them when the sound of her name gets her attention.

“Paloma, yeah?”

She head snaps in the direction of the voice and her breath gets stuck in her throat once she sees the source.

He stands tall, his figure slightly lanky but gracefully lean, his golden locks tousled. His eyes, a light shade of blue and captivating, hold a magnetic charm.

With a quick glance, she takes in the intricate tapestry of tattoos adorning his skin. They seem to complement him perfectly, she muses, adding an extra layer of intrigue to his already handsome appearance.

And for the second time in such a short period of time— Paloma finds herself subtly squirming in her spot, a familiar sensation stirring within her legs.

This man, though, much more age appropriate and everything about him screams intriguing.

“Depends who’s askin’.” She can’t help but tease, one eye closed and her right hand coming up to block the sun from hitting her face directly. She’d forgotten her sunglasses at home and that annoyed the shit out of her once she realized.

“A friend of a friend. May I?” Gestures to the empty spot in the shallow water besides her and she nods, “You’re much prettier than I remember.”

Eyes follow him as she lowers himself besides her, their bodies softly brushing up against one another and she shivers slightly despite the blazing temperature, “We’ve met before? No way, I definitely would have remembered you…”

“Technically— no we haven’t met but… I was with Slo that day at the library. M’August.” He introduces himself and her stomach knots.

That’s when it hits her, a very vague recollection but a recollection of him nevertheless.

“Right, wow, that feels like forever ago.” She shakes her head, gently swaying her hand beneath the water. Suddenly, she feels much more nervous. She’d spent a good part of her week obsessing over his book and now he’s sitting right next to her while they’re both half naked.

His explicit poem comes to mind and she shakes that thought away quickly before her whole body turns into a bright shade of red.

“Time is a very tricky concept. You want these?” He conjures up a pair of shades and her brows raise at the action. “Noticed you’ve been scowlin’ ‘cause of the sunlight.”

A small smile spreads on her lips and she nods, he passes the accessory over to her and their fingers touch briefly against each other and she swears she feels fireworks.

Paloma really has to stop being such a helpless romantic. That never ends good for anyone involved.

“Thank you, August. You’re so observant.” She slips them on and lets out a small sigh, her head falling back between her shoulders.

She can feel his eyes all over her, but she doesn’t mind it. “Slo tells me you’re a fan of my work?”

She can’t help the laugh that slips from her lips and her eyes widen once she realizes that that wasn’t the most appropriate reaction for her to have. “That… came out really wrong. I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head at herself, “I did enjoy the Paragons of the Sacrificed book.” Is honest in her opinion, looking straight ahead at the glistening body of water to avoid further embarrassment by looking at him.

“Don’t apologize, I know Slo has a tendency to… over-exaggerate.” They shared an amused laugh at the expense of their friend but it’s all in good fun. She feels some of her nerves lessen.

“I am happy to hear that you enjoyed the book, though. S’the whole point why I wrote it. Sharin’ new things to new people.” He explains.

“New things, indeed. You cited a lot of notable publishings. Got me lookin’ more into the history of religion… I can’t help but feel a little ignorant, y’know? So much knowledge out there and I’m so… uneducated.” Paloma scoffs at herself, self depreciation at its finest.

“Oh, that just isn’t true, little dove.” The nickname has Paloma looking over at him; he’s gives her such a warm and charming look that sends the butterflies in her stomach into a flurry. “Is it alright if I call you that? Seems very fitting… paloma is dove in Spanish.” A fact she’s very well aware of, since her mother reminded her about it all the time growing up.

“Yeah, I quite like that. No one’s ever really called me it before.” She replies almost sheepishly and he brings his large hand down to rest on her knee which has her breath hitching in her throat.

“Doves represent peace, love and purity … your parents sure did somethin’ namin’ you that.” His squeezes his grip on her knee briefly before pulling his hand back.

Pure? That’s possibly the last word she’d ever used to describe herself.

“As I was sayin’... throughout your life, others’ opinions have shaped your perspective. Eventually, you decide to see the world through your own eyes. Do some explorin’ of your own. It might take time to reach this realization, but what’s important is your willingness to learn and challenge conventional beliefs. So much knowledge out there, s’up to you to seek it and form your own opinions. S’way better than just followin’ what other people want you to think. Bit hypocritical comin’ from me considerin’ the group I lead but that’s different.”

Unbeknownst to Paloma, she finds herself captivated by every word that escapes his lips, hanging on to each syllable as if they were precious gems. His voice carries an irresistible attractiveness, his words akin to twinkling stars scattered across the vast expanse of a darkened sky.

He’s leading her to him… towards something in the same way constellations help sailors navigate the sea. 

They spend the rest of the day just… talking. He delves deeper into the intricacies of a group he belongs to—individuals adrift in the world, much like himself. Together, they’ve traveled through the majority of Texas, exchanging stories and delving into philosophical musings, united in their quest for deeper meaning and connection to something greater than themselves.

That leads Paloma to learn that he’s from Fayette, which is a few towns south, and that he, Sloane, and Gabriel all grew up in the same trailer park together. They’re the closest thing I have to a family is what August tells her and she feels sentimental as the statement tugs at her heartstrings.

She also learns that all three of them have a criminal past, which surprises her entirely and he explains to her that it was during their adolescence and it wasn’t anything major. Just stupid shit to pass the time.

She believes him without asking any further questions.

It’s not until they’re both getting bitten up by mosquitos that they decide it’s time to head back.

“It’s finally nice to put a face to the name, August. I hope I get to see you again… maybe read another one of your books?” Paloma bites her lip as they walk side by side.

“Likewise. Next time I’ll make sure to bring it to you personally. Don’t need Slo playin’ messenger and misconstruing our words.”

They make it back to Gabriel’s truck, he and Slo leaning against it and sharing a joint as they eye the duo. Paloma slips her skirt back on.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time. I need a shower, bad.” Sloane huffs, passing the joint to Paloma whom rejects it which gets an eye roll out of her friend and then handing it over to August who accepts it with no hesitation.

Paloma sees a motorcycle nearby and her curiosity gets the best of her, “S’that your ride, August?” She flips her hair over her shoulder, looking at him. He lustfully eyes the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders before nodding.

“Sure is. You ever been on one before?” Thick smoke emits from his lips and nose as he passes the joint back over to Gabriel who finishes it off wordlessly.

He’s so quiet, Paloma observes, but her attention returns to August.

“No. They look real cool, though.”

“You should let me take you home. Give you your first ride on one, little dove.” The offer is rather suggestive and she doesn’t mind it. She’s very interested in getting to know him better.

Paloma would have taken him up on it had she not been wearing the outfit that currently adorns her body. “Maybe next time.” She smiles at him softly and he nods, she looks away sheepishly as she blushes.

They share their goodbyes then she’s piling in to Gabriel’s truck after Sloane and on her way back home.

The day’s events echo through her thoughts as she gazes out of the window, Javier’s presence now intertwined with that of August’s. A sense of excitement bubbles within her, unfamiliar yet exhilarating—the attention she’s receiving is unlike anything she’s experienced before.

Two distinctly attractive and intriguing men have unexpectedly entered her life, each leaving an indelible mark. Rather than overcomplicating matters, Paloma resolves to embrace the moment and allow things to unfold naturally. It’s a thrilling prospect, injecting a sense of excitement into her life that she hasn’t felt in quite some time.

“Oh fuck.” Paloma curses as she sees her father’s vehicle parked by the front yard and him sitting out on the porch.

Looks like he’s gotten back from his hunting trip early. It is nearing ten o’clock and she knows she’s about to be interrogated on her whereabouts. 

She’s relieved that she hadn’t taken August up on his offer to bring her home on his motorcycle. Now that would have sent poor Romeo over the edge.

“Oh, baby, I feel for you.” Slo pats her thigh compassionately and Paloma groans. Dread creeps up her spine making her wither uncomfortably.

“He wasn’t supposed to be back ‘til tomorrow mornin’. Ugh, he’s so not goin’ to let this go.” The truck stops and both Gabriel and Slo flash her an understanding yet somber look.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll call you tomorrow, ‘kay Slo?” The girl nods and they both hug before she’s exiting the vehicle and preparing herself for what’s to come. Paloma tugs her skirt down, noticing that it had ridden up much higher than what was appropriate. 

“Where the hell have you been, girl?” He asks once she’s close enough to survey him. He’s drinking, that’s never a good sign.

“We went out by the creek and—”

“The creek? With who? At this time of night? Paloma, how can you be so reckless. Especially with what the hell has been goin’ on around here?!”

Anger contorts her features, her expression tightening with indignation as he addresses her as though she were a wayward teenager, rather than a capable woman out in the company of her friends.

“And dressed like that.” The tone in his voice makes something within her snap and she crosses her arm with attitude, getting defensive.

“Like what? I was by the water and I’m wearin’ a bathin’ suit. S’that illegal now?” Paloma is so ready to go inside, shower, and get in her bed.

“Is this what you do when I’m not around? Sneakin’ off lookin’ for trouble in the dead of night?”

“It’s only ten and I really didn’t expect to stay out this long. I got preoccupied. Why are you makin’ such a big deal outta this?” She defends herself and it’s ridiculous, really, that she even has to.

He doesn’t say anything else and she just rolls her eyes. “I’m goin’ inside.” And that’s exactly what she does, walking right past him and indoors where she intends to take a very long, hot shower to help her forget about this spat of theirs.

Their arguments follow a familiar pattern: he erupts with emotion, then retreats into silence. Occasionally, he offers apologies, while other times, they linger unspoken. Paloma, however, is well-versed in navigating her father’s dramatic outbursts, having grown accustomed to them over time. It’s not the theatrics that trouble her; rather, it’s enduring it that proves challenging.

The shower runs while she takes a good, long look at herself in the mirror. 

Paloma finds herself approaching a crucial juncture, feeling increasingly prepared to confront her father in a heart-to-heart conversation. This discussion, she knows, will culminate in her revealing her decision to leave town and prioritize her own needs for once. While the thought of causing her father pain weighs heavily on her heart, she recognizes the necessity of taking this step in order to forge her own path in her life.

The steam rises from the hot water, gradually filling the room with its thick, swirling embrace. Paloma’s reflection blurs and fades amidst the steam, prompting her to shed her clothes. With each layer discarded, she feels a sense of liberation, a moment of vulnerability before she finally steps into the welcoming cascade of the shower.