#thank you for asking me! whew. winded.

[doverstar]

how do you feel about writing kiss scenes? because, admittedly, I enjoy reading and writing scenes where characters are making out, and I think it can add to the story- like the fic I'm writing, one of the characters is terrified of intimate relationships, and it would be a natural conclusion for their relationship to end with a lot of kissing described, but do you think the principle of writing a scene where characters are just making out is ok?

Wow, people have been asking me deep questions lately - not the norm. I like it!

So, are you asking because it's bothering you? Are you asking because you want to know whether it's right or wrong? That answer will determine what you think of my answer!

Do you want me to make this long? I can-

So! Great question. Are you asking about the principle morally? My feelings morally? How I feel about writing kiss scenes is this: don't do it in detail.

I don't read kiss scenes - not ones that go into detail - because it's usually exciting feelings that I shouldn't be having over a book (or fic). It's emotional pornography, is what I'm saying. Other people might be adept at going cold in those moments, feel nothing; I'm not like that, and I don't know many who are.

Why are you writing them making out?

I'll explain my thought process real quick. For me, I write kiss scenes very intentionally. I don't talk about physical details much at all, unless it's to drive home a point about a character's feelings. Showing and not telling. I just recently got used to writing kiss scenes after I was married. I've only ever kissed one person: my husband. And only after he became my husband. I am in perfect comfort and contentment with my own kissing experience, which means, happily, that when I write kisses, I am a little more comfortable than I used to be - and I have the perspective of someone who has only ever kissed the man she loves, who has her full commitment, till death do us part, and I'm expressing that affection and commitment through physical interaction like God intended. I'd imagine that's not the experience of most people when it comes to "making out".

I don't talk about the characters' mouths, or write in a way that drops you, the reader, in the place of one of the characters if I can help it. (I can only control so much.) If I write a kiss scene, it's not about immersing you and putting you in the scene and trying to get you to feel like you're making out with one of the characters. I write it because it's what should happen; it's the natural progression of a relationship - or because, especially in fanfiction, it's what the characters would canonically do based on what we've seen in the source material. Good fanfiction is immersive because it's accurate.

I talk about when it happens, why it's happening, how it makes the characters feel, maybe I mention hands, maybe, if that helps in terms of conveying a feeling the characters are having, but that's it. I write kisses the way I've experienced kisses - an expression of love. So I focus on communicating love, the way a kiss is supposed to, and not on communicating lust.

I'm not writing a kiss scene so the reader can feel butterflies (if they do, okay, but part of that is often because relating to a character is natural in the writing process and people by nature crave affection). I'm writing a kiss scene because it's part of the story, and the relationship, and that's it. Which means if the characters would canonically make out, I would pull the door shut and leave them in peace, cut the scene there, because even if they would do it, married or not, that's intimate, and I don't want you, the reader, feeling lust because of two fictional characters. Intimacy is by definition a private thing. I'm not here to create emotional porn. I'm here to write a good story. And I, the writer, could easily be sucked into emotional porn by writing, in detail, a makeout scene! So I'm not gonna do that, and from what I've seen, stories suffer for pure self-indulgence. There are whole genres dedicated to emotional pornography, and I'm not in that boat. I'm paddling my little dinghy as hard as I can in the opposite direction. Ten-year-olds can find and read my stuff, and if they do, they will not be losing their innocence because I got swept away in attraction to a fictional character.

You said in your story, the characters are making out, and that that's the natural conclusion to a story about one half of the ship being terrified of intimacy? Right? Yes! Okay - makes sense - but I would argue that there are other ways of showing this character is dropping their guard and learning to grow in that area. You can say they made out after that first initial kiss in a myriad of ways without going into great detail - without parking the readers in the room for half an hour, watching two people eat each other's faces off.

Disclaimer: the vast majority of fic readers would love it if you did that. That's why they're reading. That's what they're looking for. They want to be excited. They want emotional pornography. And the question for you to answer then is, do you want to write emotional pornography? Why are you writing what you're writing?

Also, tiny additional note - you say just making out, but making out is a lot of physical interaction for a longer time period than one kiss. It's not just anything. It's a big deal, and it brings big emotions!

Now, if you believe what I believe, and you agree with me, you won't be comfortable writing emotional pornography and you'll pull the door shut so the story can continue and show that Character Whoever is growing in intimacy without having everyone watch them suck face. Because the story's not about that butterfly feeling you get when you imagine yourself making out with someone; it's about [insert theme here]. The goal of your story shouldn't be "and this is how I'd feel if Character A kissed me". That's not a good story. That's the Twilight saga. That's Bella. That's a pair of brunette, emotionally-vacant pants. Are you sewing pants or writing a story?

woo

let me inhale here

Anyway, I'd say study your motives. If the characters would make out (and I would argue, again, that making out is not necessary to express that a character is growing in the area of intimacy and facing their fears; there are tons of other creative ways you can do that), just allude to it in one line or less and then move on. Close the door. Cut the scene. People do kiss a lot, that's realistic, and especially when there is real, honest love, but the setting in which they do so matters morally, and I can't think of a single reason your readers need to know every last detail of that makeout scene other than evoking lust in them and, consequentially, in you. Because writing is personal and you can't not be standing in the TARDIS with the Doctor when you're writing a Doctor Who fanfic; if you're not there, neither are your readers.

Philosophically, I say don't write makeout/kiss scenes in great detail. Find ways to express the things the kiss (singular) is supposed to add to the story, and then close the curtain. It should be there for a reason, and the reason shouldn't be "I just want to place myself in this situation in my mind".

That's what I think!

[nicxl333]

could you do a part 2 of bllk boys accidentally hurting their partner bu with a good ending please.

My stomach wouldn't be able to handle mor angst(⁠T⁠T⁠)

BABY YOU SOLD ME A DREAM PT.2

thanks for the req anon, i think you’re doing everyone a favour here by asking for this because whew! i was ready to dropkick a mf from writing pt.1 lmao

also if you’re here by chance it’s probably best if you read pt.1 for context before you read pt.2 | :3

characters: isagi yoichi, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, barou shoei, itoshi rin

content: overwhelming fluff, slight angst, major angst (in rin and barou’s part), reader is female coded (the term ‘girlfriend ‘ is used)

tags: @kaiserkisser @silly-ez @scaramouchemyloveee @mariyumemi @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @hsxhype @aquamarine001 @nxgiswife @hanagoromo-roses

☆彡 ISAGI YOICHI

two weeks. two long, monotonous weeks spent without isagi. yes bachira did his very best to make sure you were comfortable with him, but you missed isagi so damn much.

it wasn’t only difficult for you though, bachira was trapped in a bad position. due to him being a friend of both you and isagi, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. while it was evident that isagi had fucked you over badly, being in a team with isagi and having him as a bestfriend didn’t make things better. he couldn’t just pick a side and be done with it.

unbeknownst to you though, isagi asked bachira multiple times each day about how you were doing. after some self reflection, he realised just how wrong he was for treating you that way. especially since people like you nowadays are hard to come by. someone so nurturing, caring and full of love and devotion for their s/o was quite the rarity to find. and to think he nearly lost all of that with just a few words. really opened up his perspective of things. he wanted to do better. for you and himself.

and so, he cut down his training times, making more time for himself to wind down from daily intensive workouts. he thought of words to say to you, to make it known to you that he was aware where he went wrong and was taking responsibility for his actions.

he also went shopping, to buy you a multitude of gifts. clothes, jewellery, trainers and heels, perfumes, trinkets. you name it, he bought it. it all cost him a hand and a foot, but he didn’t mind, he would do it 100 times over for you. (we should remember this man is a professional footballer, he’s got dough.) once home, he placed all the gifts on the coffee table in the living room, having to put some on the floor due to the sheer amount he bought, ready to take them to bachira’s tomorrow.

little did he know he wouldn’t have to make the commute.

you had said your goodbyes to bachira that same day, thanking him for taking you in for so long with a big bear hug, to which he returned with just as much (platonic) love as you had shown him. you placed your bag in the backseat of your car, turning on the ignition and beginning the drive back home.

as the roads whizzed by you on the highway, so did the thoughts in your head. you were very nervous to have to talk to isagi again, to have to recall exactly what happened that night. glancing at the time on the dashboard, you drew the conclusion that isagi should be training right now, which would at least give you time to prepare before he got back.

as you pulled up to the apartment complex, the first thing you noticed was that isagi’s car was there, in his usual spot next to yours.

‘he’s home?’

surely not, maybe he just hitched a ride or something. although that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. there would be no reason why isagi would skip his evening trainings, not that you could think of anyways. even after joint practice with his team he would then further push himself to do his own training, polishing up on his skills. so to think he’s potentially broken that pattern confused you.

after parking your car and collecting your things you made your way to your front door, unlocking it and venturing in. once you placed your keys on the side table and took off your shoes, you walked into the empty living room, ultimately puzzled when you noticed the coffee table filled to the brim with bags from your favourite places.

“yoichi? you there?”

nothing.

you therefore assumed he was out, deciding to take a closer look at the bags. inside, everything you had ever bought for yourself or displayed interest in while out with isagi lay in each bag. even things that you didn’t have, but wanted, were present.

he remembered.

your eyes immediately welled with tears of appreciation, head snapping to your bedroom door when you heard it open, isagi’s figure stepping out. you immediately jolted, not expecting him to actually be here, even though you didn’t actually take the time to look and see properly.

“shit! y/n, you’re back? wait, why’re you crying?”

in an instant he crossed the distance to you, wiping the tears away once he assessed and evaluated that you were not hurt.

“uh— sorry. i should’ve asked you first. is this okay?” he quizzed, holding the sides of your face tenderly. you nodded, leaning into his touch.

“are these for me yoichi?” you looked into his cobalt blue eyes. one hand left your cheek, rubbing at the skin behind his neck, suddenly feeling shy.

“erm…yes. yes they are. i wasn’t expecting you back though, i was gonna surprise you tomorrow. ” he pulled you towards the sofa, sitting you down and looking deep into your (e/c) eyes.

“look y/n, i know materialism doesn’t take away what i did to you, but i want you to know just how sorry i am. you didn’t deserve how i treated you. not two weeks ago or months before. i made you feel lonely, i put football before you. when you needed me, i shut you out. and i take full accountability for that. words couldn’t describe just how badly i’m in love with you and how crazy you make me feel. i couldn’t bear to lose that forever. hell, these two weeks without you have tormented me enough. a lifetime without you would finish me off for good.”

you listened to him speak every word, touched that he would say such soothing words to you. yes, you did expect him to apologise, but not to go above and beyond to show his willingness to change.

your nose started flaring, the sting of your eyes warning that you were about to cry again.

feeling uncomfortable with your silence, isagi pressed you slightly.

“y/n? are you— are you oka-”

you cut him off by pouncing on him, engulfing him in a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him like it was your last.

“i’m yours yoichi. always and forever.”

☆彡 MIKAGE REO

you woke up in the same hotel room you cried yourself to sleep in. throat dry, head pulsating and heart wounded. you needed some form of rejuvenation, but, considering you didn’t have any clothes on you, seemed hard to achieve.

you reached for your phone, shocked when you saw 20 missed calls and 46 messages from the very same person who caused you anguish in the first place. opening the message app you see the most recent messages being sent at around 5am.

“y/n, where are you?”

“y/n please answer the phone!”

“are you safe at least, i’m worried about you.”

“i just wanna know if you’re okay, we need to talk.”

“y/n?”

“y/n please, im starting to worry, just send me a text, or something. let me know you’re okay.”

although you were beyond pissed at the guy, he was concerned for your safety, and to make him worry for you like that shouldn’t have to be something anyone should experience.

you sent him a quick, straightforward response.

“i’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”

the read receipt came as quickly as you sent it, a bubble popping up, signaling that reo was typing. however, after a few moments, it disappeared altogether, leaving your message standing alone.

you sighed, deciding that the least you could do was shower, feeling clammy and, simply put, dirty.

luckily, your job was well paying so you were able to book a lavish en-suite hotel room, although you didn’t pay attention to that much last night, willing to go just about anywhere as long as it weren’t near reo. inside the bathroom lay exquisite amenities, top branded shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, along with oils and different expensive face care products. an unopened toothbrush pack also was present on the bathroom counter, with toothpaste alongside it. and by the full glass shower itself stood a towel and robe on the hanging rack.

it weren’t exactly clothes, but it was a start. better than staying in your dress the whole day. while you waited for the shower water to warm you looked at yourself in the mirror, cringing at how dishevelled your figure was. your cheeks were tear stained, causing your mascara to run, your lips had smeared lipstick still present, and your hair? let’s not even go there. you looked a hot mess, physical evidence of your current mood.

once heated to a substantial temperature you stepped into the shower, revelling at how that warm water melted into your skin. you made good work of scrubbing down your skin, leaving no traces of any events that may have transpired the day before.

soon enough you finished up your shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel round your figure, feeling refreshed, but still incomplete. you brushed your teeth next, trying to avoid letting your thoughts go off topic from the current task at hand.

just as you were walking into the room itself to look for moisturiser, you heard a knock at the door. it confused you to the core. no one actually knew your whereabouts so you couldn’t rack your brain to guess who it could be. you ventured close to the door, looking through the peephole and visibly relaxing once you saw a hotel worker standing, waiting.

“hello?”

“ah, good morning miss y/n, i have a bag here requested to be brought to you.”

if you weren’t confused before, you were bewildered now. this meant that someone hand to have known where’d you were, but how? only one way to find out.

“requested by who, might i ask?”

“mr…mikage reo?”

what the actual hell. you were well and truly silenced by the revelation. more importantly, it’s quite amazing how he managed to find your location with such haste. although it shouldn’t really surprise you so much, considering he probably had connections due to his status. it made you wonder just what exactly he brought to you.

“erm ma’am?”

you cracked the door open, seeing one of reo’s duffel bags stuffed to the brim. the hotel worker held it out for you to take, bowing then turning to leave immediately after. you carried the heavy bag through the room, placing it on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

you stood for a second, debating whether you should open it or not. curiosity got the better of you though, and you unzipped the bag, stalling when you realised it was a bag of clothes for you, as well as the moisturiser you use, some makeup products and your favourite trainers. it’s like he somehow knew you would need clothes, probably since you didn’t return home last night.

taking the clothes from the bag you realised he packed you one of your favourite hoodies, his own hoodie.

after moisturising yourself you started to put the clothes on, feeling slightly better about yourself. you looked into your makeup bag, seeing some of your basic everyday skin and hair products, as well as your everyday perfume, feeling grateful that reo at least paid attention enough to know what you liked and used.

just as you had finished your skincare routine you heard another lock at the door, wondering who it could be at this time. you got up and crossed your way to the door, looking through the peephole and freezing.

your boyfriend, reo stood at the door, looking around nervously.

you gauged your options for a moment, reaching an ultimatum with yourself that you couldn’t avoid him forever. you opened the door fully, stepping to the side for him to walk in, which he did, stepping meticulously and with precaution, while you closed the door behind him.

all was silent for a moment, neither party knowing what to say to the other, a million thoughts rushing through the room. the tension was taut, the air thick, and awkwardness seeping in.

you collected yourself, deciding to start it off.

“thanks for the clothes, i appreciate it.”

“it’s…the least i could do, considering how i treated you.” he said, simultaneously biting down on his lip.

“yeah.”

he moved closer towards you, looking at your expression to see if he was crossing boundaries at any point.

“y/n.” you looked at him with apprehension, worried about what may fly out of his mouth next. “i want you to know that what happened last night, was entirely my fault. i need you to understand that.”

you frowned with sadness displayed on your face. yes he may be owning up to his actions, but that didn’t explain why he said what he said. especially if he could say something of that degree to you with such ease. it sounded like he meant every word.

becoming slightly anxious from your silence, he continued on.

“i made you it sound like you were inadequate or you were lower than me because i have money. i know it sounds bad, but y/n, it’s really the opposite. you don’t look at me for my background, you look at me for who i am as a person. you make me feel normal. make me feel like i can be myself around you. i don’t have to keep myself guarded around you and i appreciate you so much for it. i guess that’s why i spoke out of turn to you like that last night. because you’re probably the only person who can actually knock me down a peg. and having nagi hear that made me scared. scared because i was vulnerable in front of him. of course, i’m not excusing my actions, and i’m not asking for forgiveness, i just want you to know i’m sorry.”

you nodded slowly in understanding, looking at the way he subconsciously tugged on a piece of his violet tresses. he left his hair down today. you loved it when his hair was down. he knew that.

“i hear you reo, but that’s not the only issue. this whole problem stemmed from the fact that you spend too much time with nagi. i don’t wanna be the girlfriend that prohibits you from spending time with your friends, that’s not who i am, but when you’re with nagi so much that it makes you forget important dates, that’s when it becomes a problem. especially when you then make it out to be like i’m the problem. no one is saying you can’t be around him, but have a backbone please. he’s always there reo. sometimes i just want you to myself, is that too much to ask for?”

he realised where he went wrong, casting you aside for the sake of nagi, which wasn’t cool. and he didn’t want to lose you. you were too good to him and he felt so strongly about you. anything you asked for could never be too much, not to him.

and so, he stepped closer to you still, scooping you up in his arms and spinning you around, relishing in the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, both for stabilisation and comfort.

“no baby, it’s never too much. not when it comes to you.”

you squeezed him tighter, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck and smiling.

“i don’t like it when we fight reo, i love you too much for that.”

“i love you too y/n,” he placed you down gently on the bed, laying you back and caging you in with both arms, his hair hanging directly over your face. “so…we’re gonna go back home and i want you to pack your bags. we’re going to mykonos for the week to celebrate our anniversary together.”

you straightened up, wondering where this was all coming from.

“huh? reo, you’re forgetting something? you may be off season right now but i still have work.”

“not for the next two weeks, i pulled some strings so now you have paid time off, which, gives you more time with your favourite man.”

you chuckled at his revelation, knowing he definitely used his power to threaten your manager. reo could be so demanding at times.

“speaking of which, do you know where he is?” his face immediately darkened at that.

“wanna repeat that?”

“nope!”

☆彡 NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi was in a state. it had only been 4 days since you broke up with him, but that was 4 days too long for him. it wasn’t actually until you broke it off with him and it sunk in that you were gone, that it really registered for him.

he missed you.

it made him realise, as much as he hated being bothered…he didn’t mind if it were you. he really did enjoy spending time with you. especially when cuddling. your figure was so soft, a perfect cushion for him to lay on as he slept. you would play with his hair so gently, lulling him to sleep. and you were really pretty.

the apartment just seemed all the more empty without you. yes, he did live alone pre blue lock a few years back, but having you live with him made him get used to having someone around. he grew comfortable and accustomed to it. so much so that it felt lonely when you left.

you had temporarily went back to your parents house while you looked for a new place to live. you had a few items of miscellaneous clothing left behind in your room, but you had ran out, thus needing the majority of your stuff, which you had left back at nagi’s.

you left off, with the promise to your parents that you’d be back soon.

the engine hummed as you drove back, playing your playlist on a high volume, hoping to drown out the thoughts spiralling in your head, although it did little to silence them.

you didn’t plan a time to leave out, but realised that you had coincidentally headed out at the same time nagi would be home, a meeting inevitable. oh well. had to happen at some point. you planned on a quick and brisk pit stop, hoping to minimise interaction with him as much as possible.

you pulled up to the apartment complex, walking through the lobby, swiping your keycard and pressing the lift to go to the penthouse.

in no time you reached the top, the lift doors opening. you stepped out and pushed your key into the lock, opening the door as silently as you could, walking in and shutting it with a click.

yes, you may have been moving around like a teenager after a forbidden night out, but you would much rather that than have to be further insulted by nagi, should he catch you.

alas, things cannot always go smoothly in life, for nagi had heard you, stepping out of the bedroom, shirtless with loosely hanging shorts, evidently having just woken up from a nap.

he instantly stopped, rubbing his eyes to see if he was tweaking or not. yet, you stood there, trying to disappear in that moment.

“y/n…you’re here.”

“only to get my things nagi, i’ll be out of your hair in around half an hour.”

nagi. his own name turned his mood sour. he’d much rather you call him by his actual name, or sei, not his last. and you knew that fact very well, making sure he knew damn well you were serious.

you begun to hurriedly walk towards the bedroom, where he was standing by the door, attempting to walk past him as quickly as possible. he intervened however, stepping about halfway into the door so that you were now directly in front of him and couldn’t get past, unless you spoke to him.

“are you really leaving y/n?”

“it’s l/n to you nagi, and yes. you don’t get to say something like that to me and think we’ll be cool after. it’s fucked up.”

you turned so he couldn’t see you, tears beginning to form at the painful recollection of what occurred a few days ago. you didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, for the fear of bursting into tears held you back.

“please don’t leave me y/n, i can do better, i promise. i regret what i said. really badly. i’m— i’m sorry.”

you knew that nagi didn’t like talking as it is (he referred to it as a hassle), so to have him trying to at least communicate with you did mean something. not enough to satiate you though.

“y/n?”

when you didn’t say anything back he lightly tugged your hand and turned you around, eyes widening once he saw tears streaming down your face.

he attempted to console you, wanting to pull you into a hug, but drawing back when you lightly pushed him off you.

“y/n- what’s wrong?”

“i can’t sei, i’m scared. scared you’ll grow bored of me. i don’t know if i’m bothering you or not and it kills me to think that you’d spend more time on games than with me. you basically told me i’m a hassle. how the hell else am i supposed to take that?”

your tears wouldn’t stop pouring down no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, sniffles loud and clear as day.

something unusual happened to nagi as he watched you cry your eyes out. he felt his heart breaking into tiny shards at your state. more so because he knew it was because of him. he didn’t want to be the cause of your pain. he didn’t want to see you like this, experiencing such distress.

he wrapped his arms around you, one hand shielding your head and pulling your face into his bare chest, where you sobbed some more, letting up all the feelings built up from days prior.

“you’re not a hassle y/n. i said that out of turn. you could never be a hassle to me. while you were gone, i couldn’t even play my games properly. i just slept and trained because i missed you so much and didn’t know what to do without you. i know i’m lazy, and i know i don’t make you feel loved enough, but i do. i love you. i’ll do better for you and i don’t wanna be the reason why you’re upset. so please stop crying, wanna see your pretty face smile for me.”

you smiled into his chest, your sniffles beginning to subside and still.

“thank you sei, i really needed to hear that.”

“i would say it over 100 times for you. it might take a while but i won’t get bored of it. not when it comes to you.”

you wrapped your arms around his broad figure, squeezing tightly.

“will you be my girlfriend again y/n? no one else can reach your level. not now, not ever.”

you let go of his body, instead placing your palms on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“of course i will seishiro.”

“good, because i wanna cuddle with my girlfriend.”

☆彡 BAROU SHOUEI

it had been 2 months since you broke up with barou and he was miserable. who would’ve thought you leaving would cause such a rift in his life? his performance in matches were shit, he became pissed off at people more easily, and he was benched more often.

due to him not having someone to talk to, he essentially had no form of a wind down from football, something you were able to give him while you were together. something he had come to miss, and wished he appreciated more.

the lack of your items in the house made your departure all the more apparent. your decorations and items around the apartment were what made the house a home.

and you as a person? what wasn’t to like about you? you were a very levelheaded but gentle person, a great contrast to his fiery, angry personality. you catered to his every need, be it mentally, physically or sexually. your voice was what carried him through his day, soothing him to the bone, calming him down when he needed it. the more he thought about it, the more he realised he made a grave mistake pushing you out. the more he realised just how much he was attached to you, he was just unwilling to acknowledge it.

barou was no pussy, and he had enough of living like this, living without you, so he decided to get you back (and not fuck up this time).

he knew you were most likely staying at your childhood friend, chigiri’s house. he knew him very well, having done the blue lock training program with him years back, and played against him in several matches. he knew where he lived, having gone to parties held at his house through mutual connections.

and so, after practice, he grabbed his car keys and set off. he weren’t good with words, so his mind stayed scrambled as he thought of all the things he could say to you. while he couldn’t think of specific sentences to say to you, his goal remained the same.

after some time passed, he pulled up to chigiri’s house, your car the only one on the drive, which meant that only you were home. he switched off the ignition, stepped out of the car and walked up to the door.

with slight hesitancy, he lifted his fist to the door and knocked three times. he listened for any shuffling inside, but heard none. after a moment he turned away to leave, thinking you might’ve not been there after all. it’s possible you might’ve been out with chigiri in his car. yeah, that was probably it.

however.

“what do you want barou? i thought i was ‘making your life too hard’?”

shit, you were home. your voice was muffled, due to you speaking through the door, having seen his figure through the peephole.

“i- i didn’t mean that. not that way.”

you opened the door, allowing him to see a crack of your figure, donned in shorts and a tank top.

“then how did you mean it barou? don’t take me for an idiot, because i’m not one. no one says anything of that depth if you didn’t feel that exact way before. so before you let anymore bullshit spout from your mouth tell me exactly how you meant it, in what context. because i’m tired barou, tired of being in a relationship where i feel like i’m treading on glass around you because you don’t wanna do certain things. it’s not a nice feeling. you may not feel that way, but i do. i’ve felt that way during our whole relationship, but i feel like i can’t tell you shit so i’ve kept. it. in.”

wow. he really didn’t see things from your perspective. once he heard it from you, he realised just how much of a dickhead he sounded like. he couldn’t say anything, how could he explain himself after that?

he didn’t.

and after hearing no refutation or explanation from barou, you simply let go of any hopes of talking this out with him.

“shouei,” his ears perked at you using his first name. “i think…you should go. i don’t wanna have any hard feelings between us but i don’t think we’re right for each other. please understand and respect tha-”

you stopped short of ending your sentence upon seeing barou turn and leave before he could hear you out, getting back into his car and preparing to drive off.

you sighed, shaking your head and closing the door, effectually ending your relationship for good.

he got what he wanted, right?

☆彡 ITOSHI RIN

you woke up in the morning, immediately panning your vision to your left to see if rin had returned to bed. the bed imprints remained the exact same as you had left it when you fell asleep, which lead you to wonder if rin had even returned home.

you slid out of bed, your feet touching the cold wood floor, you trudged your way through the apartment, looking for signs of life, your shoulders falling in disappointment when you realised rin was nowhere to be seen. it was debatable if he even came home or not, the answer you would probably never find out.

you warred with yourself in your head about what to do. considering rin didn’t even try to talk to you to rectify the situation showed he didn’t really give a shit. if he didn’t come home, then he probably didn’t even know if you came home or not, which meant he isn’t worrying about you or where you were.

you weren’t a dickhead, and waiting for someone who evidently didn’t want you seemed like such a desperate action, which you weren’t trying to act like.

and so, calling a few willing friends, shedding some tears here and there, and half a day of hard work, you had effectively moved out of your shared apartment with rin, leaving a half completed home. he didn’t return home the whole day, not that you gave a shit anymore.

imagine rin’s surprise when he returned home from his team practice, expecting to see you moping around somewhere, but instead, nowhere to be found. as a matter of fact, where the fuck was your stuff? the apartment looked very much empty right now. he took at least 15 minutes to look around, analysing his surroundings, the same he would do during a game. any potted plants you bought for the house, specifically for the living room disappeared. your stupid candle ornaments that somehow made the house look better? not a ghost of a trace left behind. your clothes? gone. even from the laundry basket, only his clothes remained.

your products, your favourite sleeping pillow, even your toothbrush was gone. you left no stone unturned, questionable if you ever lived there in the first place.

still slightly puzzled but somewhat aware of the answer behind all of this, he pulled out his phone, clicking immediately on the message app. he sent you a message, heart dropping and suspicions confirmed when his message was not only green, but displayed a ‘not delivered’ message underneath. you had blocked him, and moved out without his knowledge.

he knew you were pissed off from what had transpired, but he didn’t know you would take action this soon. you didn’t even wait to talk to him for the love of god. this wasn’t supposed to happen this way, he was only angry at you because he felt threatened in the moment. but, recalling just exactly what he said to you, maybe it was warranted.

maybe it was for the best. you barely had enough time together as it is, due to unmatchable schedules and rin always being abroad. he was never able to give you enough love. funny, considering he didn’t even make sure to tell you. looking back on it, he realised he was kind of a dickhead to you.

so, he let go of the relationship for good.

—

four months had passed. he’d gotten bigger as a football player after his team winning a multitude of matches had lead to him becoming their star player, constantly getting man of the match achievements. this lead to his popularity increasing, getting more fans and fame as a result. he had been abroad this whole time, focusing on his career.

oh. but don’t think he had escaped you.

he couldn’t get his mind off you.

you tormented his thoughts daily and nightly, his yearning for you and hate for himself flourishing simultaneously as he repeatedly recalled how he fucked up. he wished he could go back to that night, heeding your warnings.

either way, that couldn’t be achieved now, for he didn’t know your whereabouts. he hadn’t known since that night on the pitch.

he tried to move on the best he could, returning back to japan to visit his parents whilst he had time off from football.

it just so happened one day while he popped out to a grocery store to get ingredients for his mother, the he saw the back of a familiar head, whisking away to the next aisle over. piquing his curiosity, he immediately paced to see if it way really who he thought it was.

and yes, the face he thought he’d never see again, the very same person who had been frequenting his mind,

you.

“y/n!” you froze, not expecting to find him here of all places. last time you had seen on tv, he was abroad. he wasn’t supposed to be here. deciding you had to face the music at some point, you turned around, watching as his demeanour melted, at really seeing you again after so long.

“rin…hi.”

all was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say to each other. what does one say in situations such as these? not to worry, rin answered for you.

“how…how’ve you been?”

“good thanks, how about you?”

“i’ve been— alright.”

silence settled again. rin wanted to voice so many things to you, starting with how he wanted you to know how he’s changed. how he’s calmed down in terms of training. how he’d make more time. he wanted you to know he’d do things differently, if you ever took him back. he wanted you to come home… but he didn’t know where to start.

he would have to at some point however, for you wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

“well…um, it was good seeing yo-”

“wait!” he interjected, panic settling in that you would disappear and he would never get the chance again. “i— i just wanted to tell you tha—”

“y/n baby, i’ve got the washing powder.”

baby? what the fuck?

he looked just past you to see a guy walking up to you, taking the basket from your hands with a peck to your cheek. you smiled at the action, lacing your hand in his hair as he took place behind you. he then noticed rin, standing there with visible shock on his face, confused on what he missed while he was gone.

“who’s this?”

“oh, just an old friend.” a bold faced lie. anyone with two functioning brain cells could feel the history between you two. “i’ve got my stuff so let’s go to the queue. nice seeing you rin…have a good day.” you walked off with your supposed new boyfriend. a boyfriend that wasn’t him.

have a good day? after you just shattered his heart like that?

his throat turned dry, awareness sinking in.

he wanted you to come home…but he was too late.

baby you sold me a dream pt.3

[hungharrington]

The NEED to tease stevie with your boobs though 😩😭 like anything, anywhere. Not wearing a bra on a hot summer day so he’ll see your nipples when they pebble in the breeze, driving home and randomly taking your shirt off to distract him, wearing tiny tiny bikini tops to swim in his pool, acting concerned and asking him if one’s bigger than the other and tbfh he’s not even listening. Just driving that boy crazy with your tits 😌

hehe thank u for the ask nonnie!! i’m dubbing this… menace!reader…. bcos that’s what u are, u little minx <3 afab!reader, MDNI this entire blog is 18+ but also no smut in this one!

“Are you trying to kill me?”

You pretend to consider his question thoughtfully, humming as you drop your chin into your palm. The car rumbles beneath you. You’re sure your grin is nothing short of a cheshire grin.

“Don’t know what you mean, Stevie.”

Steve manages a glare between his glances at the road, out the windshield. It’s quiet out on the road, a stretch of burning hot asphalt stretching out before you. Hawkins Pool is entirely too crowded today. Naturally, you and Steve have decided on heading further out to cool off beneath the climbing spring-time temperatures.

It also means you’re wearing barely anything to combat the heat.

“Shut up,” Steve scoffs. He takes his eyes off the road to look you up and down again. His eyes get stuck on your chest, staring at you tight tank-top that does little to cover the cherry red bikini beneath it. It looks like it pains him to drag his eyes back to the road.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

His hand reaches out, fingers curling around your thigh. He gives it a quick squeeze, chiding and eager all at once.

“Mmm,” You hum again, covering his hand with your own. You give it a little pat and then lean over to wind the window down, twisting the handle once, twice.

Wind rushes in, still cooler than the inside of the car which had been slowing heating sitting in Steve’s driveway all morning. The chill coats your skin, a flush of cool air sending a shiver over your body— you feel your nipples pebble in response.

It’s comical, watching Steve’s hair muss up as his gaze flicks rapidly between the road and the passenger seat. He sputters.

“That’s not— you are-” He cuts himself off with a throaty growl, eyes fixed on the road as he shifts across the car. His large hand moves from your thighs to clutches the knob and you watch as his bicep bulges gloriously, pumping the window handle to close it.

It closes much faster at his hand, closing with a hiss, than it did opening at yours. Muscles and all. You drool a little.

“—Unbelievable. You are unbelievable.” He finishes. The heat of his words is lost when he glances down at your tits once again. There’s this adorable pink in the apples of his cheeks.

Something in you gleans at how easy he is to rile up. You smile.

“Fine, no window.” You concede.

You slip your arm under the seatbelt and get a good grip on the fabric bunched around your waist. Steve manages a quiet What are you—? before it dissolves into an Oh my god as you pull the shirt off. It’s thin enough that it barely makes a difference in the heat but you make a show of it anyways.

“Whew,” You slip back beneath your seatbelt and fan yourself dramatically. “That’s much better.”

Steve’s hand on your thigh tightens. You hear how hard his head smack back against the headrest, even if it is smothered by his loud groan. You can’t tell if it’s in complaint or appreciation. Probably both.

“You can’t wait?” He whines, his fingers squeezing your flesh a little. “We’re like, 5 miles out. I can deal with you then, I promise.”

He steals a glimpse your way and can’t resist another look down at your chest. Keeping most of his focus on driving straight, a bit of it slips away as his hand moves to fiddle with the string of your bikini.

“This is a nice one.” He says, far too nice for how much you’ve been teasing him. Too bad you’re not feeling merciful.

“Thanks baby,” you murmur slyly. Your hand creeps up and dusts over his, heading for the knot at the back of your neck. It only takes one well targeted tug for the knot to release the strings and at the same time, the car swerves an inch, and Steve’s hand jumps up to grab them. It’s a miracle — or maybe he’s a well coordinated jock — but he manages to wrangle both of them and the car. A giggle pushes past your lips.

“Oh my God, I never thought I’d say this,” Steve says, releasing the strings to grasp both hands on the steering wheel very tightly. The bikini falls. Steve looks like he might be in pain, glancing out the drivers side window, his bottom lip trapped in his teeth. “But please put your boobs away.”

You giggle again, even as you gather the straps and re-tie it, not too keen on being exposed as it is. Regardless, it seems entirely worth it for Steve’s flushed face and his shifting hips. His swimming trunks hide… nothing. Finally, only when you’re shucked your shirt back on, tugging it down to cover your tummy, does Steve glance back at you.

His glorious pink face hadn’t faded but he has this grin that promises all sort of trouble, mixing with his fondness for you. “Y’know, I think you really are tryna kill me.”

“Death by boobs?”

“Hey,” Steve grins. “There are worse ways to go.”

[sergle]

People are failing to realize that clothing, and cameras for that matter, can be fairly deceptive. I don't wanna say deceptive because it carries a certain connotation, but I hope you'll know what I mean. I look fairly "thin/avg" with a shirt on, but without it it's rolls and folds lol

Furthermore, it's wild to assume someone who's pretty passionate about accurate plus-size rep would be stick thin. Maybe their metric of "average" is skewed or something, but it's still weird to just show up in a strangers Asks and assume things about them and their bodies.

sorry for answering an ask about this like 4 days later but I'M STILL THINKING ABOUT THIS... this person is talking about these asks btw.

FIRST OF ALL, thank you so much for the ask, it really is good to know that other ppl are aware of the Covering Of Fat With Clothing. Like. hi. my body is obscured. people are just noticing my torso for the first time bc there isn't 5lbs of breast tissue hanging off of it. SECOND OF ALL. This is still making me insane. I am still thinking about it so I'm gonna completely just do a brick of text to talk about it. Like, there's the first part of this, right? The fact that, all of these people who were sending asks like these, are the same people who came to my account because they liked the body positivity stuff or they related to the proportions of the girls I draw, right? And yet somehow managed to miss that ALL OF MY ART IS ME. So you're relating to MY body, AGREEING that this is plus sized art, then turning towards moi and saying, okay but you're skinny though. HUH? HMM??? I literally made a 12-part series of self portraits that have been like, my most seen, most stolen, reposted, enjoyed, stolen again, pieces. And I've been so crystal clear that these are literally me. Once again, I'm pointing at the aforementioned MATERIAL.

Pictured above: a thin, skinny woman who just happens to have large breasts, ig! And outside of those, which are *literal* self portraits, I've spoken lots of times before about how I make girls of a certain size and shape because I'm modeling them off myself. Or as close as I can get, depending on how good/bad I feel and if I took a photo to ref or not. It really couldn't be clearer that this is obviously me being self-serving, I do it when I feel like I need to see it. So the thing being implied here, or flat out accused in a handful of messages, is that I'm drawing fat girls forrr clout? AWESOME. I didn't want to dignify every message but that did seem to be the rough consensus. BUT I WANT TO TALK ABOUT THAT ONE TOO. WHEN would it become a bad thing for a skinny person to draw body positive art? In a positive light? Even if it was for clout? Am I going insane? That would be Good. It honestly might be even more meaningful than what I'm doing now. If I was actually 115 pounds soaking wet, if I looked like that one girl from ANTM with the like 14 inch waist, and I was out here making the exact same art, would that make the art LESS meaningful to other fat girls? That someone who doesn't have this body type or relate to it at all found it beautiful enough to draw it so many times, treating the subject with respect? Fat people being the subject of art again? The cycling of a trend that's been gone too long? That is, I thought, what we've literally been begging to see. I have been thinking about this. And finally, the last part of it that's been vexing and haunting me:

Is it supposed to be my responsibility that someone gets dysmorphic LOOKING AT ME. HUHHHH. On the art account where I draw a lot of Me. HUH. I was meant to anticipate this? Looking at pictures of me. And that makes you feel dysmorphic. and that is my fault. I'm just double checking. On the account where I draw bodies that I relate to, that you followed because you relate to. And then seeing me. Makes you dysmorphic. Whew. Got it.

I'm putting a bow on my insane winding ramble about this. Or at least trying to, now. It is wild to have my body commented on so much. This year, bc of the breast reduction, comments on my body have increased a hundredfold. Positive, negative, passive aggressive, predatory, all of the ways it can go. There was a really obvious way to rebuff these particular comments, which would be to post a picture of myself where my body ISN'T mostly obscured. But hey, those aren't free. The art will have to do for now. I wouldn't be that surprised if half the messages were jokes meant to see if I'd post pics "proving" that I look how I look. I also thought briefly about like, what if my body did change that drastically? Would some ppl's immediate reaction be betrayal, disgust, anger? I've been sick in my life before and lost weight at alarming speeds. But I've still been fat all my life. I've gotten sick and gained weight at alarming speeds. Does my presence as a "body positive artist" mean that my body gets to be put on trial anytime it changes? Does the switch flip from "your fat art means so much to me" to "you're not in the club anymore, since you got rid of your breasts, you look different"

Anyway I thought it would be funny to draw a thin girl "drawing" a scrap sketch I already have on hand. And imagining someone's response being fully negative, bc a thin person drawing fat ppl would be somehow dishonest lmao. Look how evil this bitch is. Her body doesn't match her art.

[artemistorm]

Avalanche Rescue Pt 4

Whumptober 2023 Day 25 continued. Sorry this is so late. Life happened--oh well! Here are the other parts if you haven't read them yet. [Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3]

******* (1200 words give or take)

Many paws make quick work to free Battle pup.

Dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig up Battle Pup's rear; dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig up Battle Pup's knees; dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig up Battle Pup's feet. Battle pup free!

Battle pup moved, tried to get up on knees and one good paw, but Wander pup pushed him down.

“Wait! Don't move yet. First let me check you legs,” Hyrule said.

“Good idea” Sky agreed.

“Legs are fine, 'm just cold.” Warriors said but everyone ignored him. Everyone except Wolfie. Wolfie licked face.

“Ack! Wolfie stop!“ Battle pup twisted head away toward snow. “No more face kisses. I don't like face kisses.”

“Leave him alone for a second Wolfie,” Baby pup wrapped arms around Wolfie shoulders, pulled him away. “Why don't you come give me face kisses instead?”

“Does this hurt?” Hyrule pressed on Warriors legs, feeling along the bones and squeezing his joints.

“No,” Warriors answered. “Jus' my shoulder.”

“Okay then,” Hyrule sat back. “I think it's okay for you to move.”

Battle pup slowly got up on knees and good paw. Sky pup and Wander pup moved near and braced him. Shaking, cold, pained, qiet whine, Battle pup sat on knees in snow pit. Wolfie whined, but Baby pup hugged him close.

“Let's get you up out of the snow pit, okay?” Sky said.

“Yeah,” Warriors grunted.

“Lean on Sky and I'll hold your arm for you,” Hyrule said. “Ready? And up!”

Helped by other pups, Battle pup struggled to feet. Awkward, groaning, stiff and cold-dizzy, Battle pup crawled out of pit.

Wolfie broke away from Baby pup, bit Battle pup's clothing at shoulder--teeth pierce cloth and catch on mail--pull! Pull! Pull! Wolfie pulled Battle pup out of pit and away from edge, then release. Battle pup sat in the snow. Battle pup saved!

“Wars!” Baby pup hugged Battle pup.

“Careful!” Hyrule urged, but Wind was gentle.

“I hate to ask, but you mind fixing this for me?” Warriors asked Hyrule his words slow and ever so slightly slurring together at the ends. “At least relocating it? You don't have to heal it.” He looked down at his wrenched and deformed shoulder then back up at Hyrule.

“I.. um... I can try.”

“You can do it!” Wolfie woofed. “We help!”

“Y'know what to do?” Warriors asked, gingerly laying down on his back. Hyrule nodded.

“I also know, I can do it,” Sky said.

”No, I'll do it,” Hyrule said. “Gotta face my fears, you know?”

“There you go,” Warriors gave a half smile.

“So what do we do then, Hyrule?” Wind asked.

Wolfie didn't need to be told; already knew what to do. Stepped over Battle pup's body, stretched out, and laid down on top of him. Keep still. Keep warm.

“Uh, hi.” Battle pup stared up at Wolfie. Battle pup captive to Wolfie--time for face kisses.

“Ugh, Wolfie! Come onnOOWWWWWWWWW!”

Hyrule pulled on Warriors arm, Sky had his knees braced against Warriors' ribs to prevent him from sliding across the snow. Hyrule pulled and pulled and rotated it until suddenly the errant shoulder popped back into place.

“Oh man, that was audible!” Wind exclaimed.

“You got it!” Warriors said, his breath leaving him in relief. “That feels so much better now.” Hyrule probed the joint for another half a minute, much to Warriors’ annoyance.

“I think I got it,” Hyrule agreed, then closed his eyes and let healing light flow into the joint.

“It's done,” Hyrule said after a minute. “How does it feel?”

“Just as good as normal,” Warriors said. “Thank you, Hyrule. You did good.”

“Whew! The hard parts are over!” Wind celebrated.

“Do you think you can walk?” Sky asked Warriors.

“Yes. If Wolfie will get up off of me. Hint hint.”

Wofie didn't want to. Battle pup cold, Wolfie tired. Both need rest. But pack still separated, Special cub still buried. Need to go.

One last quick lick! Wolfie got up. Legs tired, shake a little.

“Are you alright, Wolfie?” Hyrule asked. Wolfie shook snowy fur out.

Silly pup, Wolfie fine! Time to go.

“Come on!” Wolfie barked. “Let's go!”

Going downhill easier than uphill. Wolfie led pups on the snow path down. Baby pup kept up with Wolfie. Kept talking. Too many questions. Wolfie too busy to answer. Gotta get the pack together; gotta help Special cub.

“Hey! Slow down!” Wander pup yelled. Wolfie stop and look other three pups far behind. Battle pup slow from coldness, Sky pup slow from trickybreath. Baby pup fell back to help.

Wolfie went slower, stopped to wait for pups. Taking breaks nice, helpful for tired legs, but Wolfie restless! Places to be! Hurry up! Hurry up! Hurry up!

WEEEOOOEEEE!!

A whistle!

“Who's there?!” Wolfie barked.

“Wolfie! Are the others with you?” Old Father climbed up hill through the snow.

Old Father! Old Father! Old Father!

“Time!” Wind called as soon as he saw. Pups hurry to Old Father.

“Is everyone alright?” Time stopped at Wolfie's side. Quick sniff--sweat and worry and wet clothes and smoke.

“Yes we're fine,” Warriors said quickly. “Cold but uninjured, thanks to Hyrule.”

“What about everyone else? Have you seen them?” Sky asked eagerly.

“Yes, everyone is accounted for. Everyone else is okay.” Time said.

“Oh thank Hylia,” Sky sighed and leaned against a tree.

“We're making camp for the night at the bottom of the slope beyond the trees; it's not far.” Time pointed.

“You lead pups, I go ahead!” Wolfie yipped to Old Father and took off down the mountain.

Gotta see the young pups. Bunny pup bleed! Leg fixed yet? Smallest pup cold and hurt! Better now? Special Cub buried! Dug up yet? Need Wolfie to dig dig dig dig dig dig dig?

Paws pound, snow fly, wind blow, Wolfie run run run run run run run. Smell the air--snow, mud, fox hunting hare, wolverine urine territory mark, fur-and-bone owl pellet, distant smoke, cold clear sky--fair weather come.

Wolfie fast. Wolfie strong. Wolfie wolf. Wolfie best wolf, rescuer of pups, protector of the pack.

Slope flattened, Wolfie slowed to trot. Smell of smoke stronger stronger stronger--voices! Special Cub and Bunny pup! There! Camp!

“Wolfie! Welcome back!” Special Cub chirped. Special Cub still buried up to hips. Quick sniff--wet clothes, wet fur, wet leather. Special cub shiver, but okay.

“I'm glad to see you, but I was hoping you would have brought everyone else with you,” Bunny pup said. Quick sniff--wet bunny fur, worry, old blood--leg healed! Bunny pup okay.

Smallest pup in den of blankets, still sleep. Quick sniff--fresh breath, deep breath, smoke, old blood.

“No wake?” Wolfie whined.

“He'll be alright,” Bunny pup said.“He's just sleeping off a head injury.”

Campfire near Special cub, but not too close. Help melt snow. Bunny pup had shovel and broken shovel tossed away. Special cub held spade, help undig himself.

”Did you find everyone? Are they alright?“ Special cub asked.

“They come soon!” Wolfie yipped. “Time to dig! Cub stay still!”

Dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig...

*******

To be continued in Pt 5

Almost done! Part 5 will probably be shorter and it will be the last. Hopefully I can have it up in a few days, but no guarantees. Bye!

[humblemooncat]

Primal

Ah yes, Eros' home turf. Time to round this out with the last of the addresses! <3

Per request, we're saving Exodus for last. Which works just perfectly for me. :3c

@zoroarkthief - Primal, Famfrit | Shirogane W13, P38

Though the placard says it's under renovation, what I did get to see was very charming! There were a lot of cleverly-placed items that made the space so unique and fun!

For example, I had no idea the faerie table fit so well in the Sharlayan sink basin! It looks so pretty together!

I also had a toot around the rooms available, and was wowed by all of them! The layouts of each were very nice, and they all had their own charms! <3

@katarh-mest - Primal, Lamia | Lavender Beds W5, P6

Okay. I am absolutely FLOORED by the interior here.

The designer did an absolutely stellar job on every facet of it. The idea of a cityscape leading to an elevator for all the residents is such a good one! And it was executed flawlessly, I feel! This FC has been spoiled, honestly!

I didn't pop into the rooms since they weren't mentioned, but will absolutely come back to if I get the okay!

@wind-up-nhaama - Primal, Leviathan | Lavender Beds W22, P27

Pendants Suite!!

I've been meaning to visit ever since I saw your post about it, and I'm so glad I finally get the chance to!

This place was so well-decorated, and really gives a nice spin on the Pendants suite we're so graciously gifted in ShB. It had such a cozy, homey feel while still sticking to the aesthetic we know and love from the Crystarium.

10/10, amazing set I'd recommend any of my fellow Shadowbringers fans to come visit!

@sae-mian - Primal, Exodus | Lavender Beds W17, P44

I didn't spend a stupidly long time outside doting Minasha, idk what you're on about...

Honestly, I'm surprised I haven't snooped around your houses already. xD

Both of the sets in your house are so lovely! I love all the greenery and water features! And the balcony area downstairs is so pretty! The dim lighting also lends itself really well to the atmosphere.

I might just come pose here every so often, they're beautiful backdrops!

Lavender Beds W17, Lily Hills Wing 1, Apt 89

I didn't expect to cry today.

This is a beautiful tribute, and I am so sorry for your loss. I've paid my respects. <3

If anyone wishes to visit - and I urge you to do so, it's beautiful - all that's asked of you is that you be respectful of the space.

Goblet W25, P35, Room 1

Oh, hey! I live here too! Have a lala Eros for the house itself. :3c

As for the room; It's very cozy! I like the simple two-tiered layout of it, and the knickknacks littered about the space which make it look lived-in. It seems like the perfect place to come hang out after a long day. <3

Just mind the fireplace. It's infested with rabbits. ;3c

And thank you, @sae-mian for coming to be part of the last picture. I hope 'Sae's *totally unrelated burns* heal up soon. <3

♥♥♥ - Primal, Exodus | Goblet W25, P35, Room 66

Whew, that was a LOT of houses-

What do you mean we're not done??

I figured, while I was in the house, I might direct everyone to Eros' room as well!

It's meant to be his little personal space in the Burrows where he entertains guests or simply rests with his husband.

Once I'm able to get him a home of his own, it will be an occasion, as I see Heimir being the type of Carpenter main husband to literally build his man a house. Until then, though, he's content in his little space. <3

And with that, we end out this housing crawl!

Primal had some real heavy-hitters, I'm impressed! Thank you all for allowing me into your beautiful homes!

And now to go compile all these loose posts for ease of perusing. <3

[bigsnzstanacct]

if you're still taking those "first line of dialogue" prompts, may I offer:

"Babe, your nose is twitching a lot. It's making me nervous..."

“It’s fine, baby, you know th-this nose, always i-itchy! Don’t worry, it’s not going off til it gets my sahhh… say so!”

They gulped in reply. Normally she’d say something like “oh yeah, it’s itching, I’ll go sneeze in a couple minutes” or “yeah, it’s that dude with the cologne over there, can we get away from him for a bit so I can calm down?” She always had a reason and a plan when it came to her sneezes, which was… imperative.

“Snf! Snf! It is pretty tickly tho, babe. Good thing I’ve got such good control, otherwise… snfffff! Feels like it’d be a big one. You know, a Big One.”

They gulped again. When she said a Big One, she meant really, really fucking big. Like blowing walls out big was the least of their worries. A really big one, from her. Well, she hadn’t taken out a city block yet, but she also hadn’t sneezed full out anywhere but a Safe Zone since she was 18. (That sneeze, for the record, had both destroyed their senior prom and secured their undying love for her.)

And here? Now? On vacation? All of her usual caution seemed to have gone out of the window, it was like she was actively taunting them, or… teasing them?

“Babe, have you…?”

“HhhHHHHHUUUHHH!!!” Suddenly her breath hitched, and a gust of wind stole their words.

“Huh babe? S-sorry, couldn’t hear you. Guess my nose was tihhHHHH…. HhHIIIIIHHHHHHhhhh…” She paused to rub a finger against her nose, holding it there as she continued to speak. Ordinarily this would mean pulling alarms, sending emergency warnings, texting the Nasal Emergency Alert. Normally she’d be panicking. But this time she wasn’t. “Whew… seems like my nose is tickling more than I th-thought.”

They were in the middle of a street fair! Sure, it was a festival kind of in the middle of nowhere, but right now they were surrounded by people, tents, booths selling wares… there were stages a mere hundred feet or so away! If she let loose here, she’d basically blow the whole festival to smithereens!

“Babe… wh-what you thinking, if you let go here?”

“If I let go here, I’d probably b-blow all these booths into the lake…” she said, glint in her eye, staring directly into her partner’s eyes as she spoke, nose still under her finger. She was tall, and broad, and very curvy and right now…. They were basically at boob height for her. It was like a switch clicked over in their head and they stopped worrying about what would happen and started feeling simultaneously hornier than they had since they were 18 and… somehow a little like prey.

“If I let got here, hehhhhhh… I’d probably blow everybody in front of that stage into the stage, and then blow the stahhhh… stage back into the forest over there. They’d be picking amps and keyboard keys out of the forest for muuhhhh…. HuhhHHHH… months.”

People were starting to stare now, starting to realize that the gusts of air weren’t natural weather.

“Um… miss, do you have to um… you know we’ve got a safe zone…” Someone nearby asked.

She turned, smiled, and simply said, all trace of itchiness gone from her voice: “I’ve got it under control, thanks!” She was all sweetness and light. And then she turned back to her partner.

“If I lehhhhh…hHHhHHEHHHHHhhh… l-let go here… I’d blow that guy into next Tuesday for daring to queehhhh… question my nose… cause you know, my nose is the boss, right baby?”

“Y-yes… f-fuck… your nose is the boss.” They said, not sure if they were whispering because they were embarrassed to be saying this where people could potentially hear them or because their breath was stolen away by the sheer violent arousal that was twisting itself through their body.

“If I… hehhhHHH… hh-hehHHHHHH… if I let go h-here, this whole event would be o-over… c-cancelled… b-blown away… bad w-weather, right?”

“Um, miss, that safe zone?”

“Oh you felt the breeze,” she said, not even turning around, “you th-think this is the kihhhh… kind of sn-sneeze a fucking s-safe zone can hahhhh.. can HHHAAAHHHHhhhhh… can handle? Now leave us alone before I blow you a-awaaahhhhh… away…”

Everyone was backing away from them now, some people trying to pack their things, others just sprinting away as fast as they could.

“Well, babe,” she said, turning back to her partner, “do you want me to sneeze?”

“N-nuh… no?”

“Ha, I h-hardly think that’s t-true. But do you want to take me somewhere where I can let this m-monster go?”

They just nodded.

“W-wwuuhhHHH… w-well, what do you suhhhh… s-say?”

“Please?”

“Pleeaahhhhhh… please what?”

“P-please ma’am can I take you somewhere where you can sneeze the world down?”

And suddenly every trace of the urge was gone from her face. Her control really was astonishing.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

About five minutes later, an explosion was heard that drowned out all the noise and all the talking and all the speakers on the stage, in the festival… seemed like everything for miles around was silent after the cataclysm of that sneeze.

Just past the festival grounds, roughly one square mile of forest was flattened.

…exactly what she’d been hired to do.

Sure she’d also blown out a few windows in the nearest town, but who’s counting?

————————

Didn’t put a lot of exposition in this one, but to be clear, the scenario is that the sneezer (“she”) and her lover (“they”) are at some sort of music festival or something in a remote location in the middle of nowhere next to a forest, which she has been hired to demolish via sneeze. She decides to have some fun with her lover in the process.

[mealvaan]

Two Heads are Better than One

Vahri'a's picatrix was lain amid the unwashed ceramics, a small stone keeping it spread flat. It hadn't been cleansed in a while, and some of the inkwork had worn with time and friction, for Vahri'a had stopped using it as a grimoire altogether last year. However, there was the occasional spell of use that remained within these pages and not yet on his skin. This was one of them.

He worked his fingers over the geometry, his own latent aether to the page. With the flick of his wrist, he pulled in a touch of the signature aether from atop the neighboring plates, funneling it into the equation — then the splay of his hand dissipated it in completion of the spell.

"Now it'll wash off easily," Vahri'a demonstrated. He lifted the plate vertically, picked up the basin, and ran the water over its surface. The once-stuck morsels were swept away in the current, leaving the ceramic plain and clean. He handed it to Mana.

"You can do this with ephemancy?"

"With arcanima, yes."

Mana took up the remaining plate and washed it off, then stacked the two parallel on the drying rack.

"Whew! Thank you. I'll need to learn that one some time," she said, then tapped her chin with a curious index finger. "I wonder if you could modify that spell so that it just removes the stuck-bits entirely…"

"Arcanist spells primarily work for non-living matter, save for spoken humors which we understand quite intimately. The once-living and the living are the realm of the thaumaturge and the conjurer respectively," Vahri'a was quick to answer in what Mana knew to be his 'teacher voice', though he cleared his throat out of it. "But, I don't see why it can't be done. All things are made from aether."

"Exactly," Mana said, brandishing a wooden spoon like a wand. "If I knew the alchemical composition of the food, surely I could factor that into the spell?"

Vahri'a had never thought of this key interaction between three seemingly adverse disciplines: alchemy, the culinary arts, and the magic of arcanima. Visorless, Mana was rewarded with the rare sight of her cousin… impressed. Speechless, even.

"Can I take a copy of this spell?" Mana asked, breaking the silence and picking up Vahri'a's picatrix.

"Ah, it's a little complex. Let me make a copy for you," Vahri'a offered, gently taking his book back.

"At least let me supply the aetherial ink, then. That's expensive."

"I have more than I would ever need. Consider it a gift."

"You've already done me enough favors."

The ambient sound of water crashing against bathroom tile occasionally interspersed their conversation, and had become welcome background noise at this point. What perked both their ears was a hum — coming from behind the thick washroom door, T'orii hummed a momentary ditty. Either she had forgotten entirely that the two were just outside, or she knew and didn't care.

"Our song of hope, she dances on the wind… higher, oh higher…"

Vahri'a's heart thumped and thawed.

"I know how I can pay you back," Mana chimed. She was looking at Vahri'a, who had been looking far away. He knew immediately what she meant and his ears braced to the top of his head, yet she spoke it all the same: "You've a brilliant mind, Vahri'a, but in the Goddess's name — let me help you with the matters of the heart."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Back in Everkeep, Ish'kirya thought he had the best bedroom setup achievable to man. It was a massive project he undertook when he turned twenty-one and finally started earning his own money (the True Vue way), when his first cashed check was lush.

Oddly, Ish'kirya was inspired by the luxury pod hotel he stayed at. It was a rare visit to the 4th Level, and he hadn't expected there to be amenities of any sort on the production floor, yet it seemed like those who worked in the factories stayed late oft enough to require such a thing.

By the time Ish'kirya had finished with his bedroom, it was the pod's concept taken to new levels of comfort and automation. Everything predicated on a pre-programmed 'morning time'.

Half a bell before the morning time, the room would gradually fill with natural ambient sounds — miscellaneous bird calls, the gentle rustle of wind through leaves, and a dash of white noise that helped everything blend together (and leave out unsightly audio blemishes).

A quarter of a bell after that, the room would slowly introduce a golden glow, starting from the gradiated strips he placed on the floor and slowly rising to the ceiling, until the whole room was bathed in faux-sunlight.

Once the scheduled time hit, the birdsong would hit its apex in a much more forgiving alarum, and a beam of sunlight would soak in over his face from a carefully placed electrope light. The upper half of the mattress floated up and forward, while the latter stayed steady; the bed would prop him up in a reclined sitting position, the perfectly placed eye-beam moving with it, and he'd wake to a synthetic sunrise.

By the time the project was done, his room was a holy sanctum, the comforts of which had never been achieved even by the Residential Sector commissioned for millions of credits by Praxis Park. He achieved it himself, and that was the beauty of Alexandrian society. Everything was by design. There were no gods. Only mankind could determine what was best for mankind.

Ish'kirya awoke in the Sheshenewezi Springs inn room. Sunlight filtered through the dilapidated window as distant, uncurated birds called — eagles, he thought. He still lay vertical, but the sun beam hit his eyes anyway. Rubbing stardust out of his eyes, he sat up, awake.

Huh.

He didn't like looking at his face in the morning light, ignoring the mirror entirely as he brushed his teeth and splashed his cheeks with lukewarm water. How he missed closets that would cycle outfits out for him, mists that tacitly applied his lotion, primer and foundation.

Truly, Ish'kirya couldn't be bothered with any of it, and he got right to the meat of the day. Straight from the sink, he sat at the bedside bureau. Little pieces of electrope were undergoing delicate engravings with a needle and pocket knife. He had a nice laser cutter that he used to hook up to his computer at home for electrope matters…

"You're up early," grunted Iron Lotus, who finally awoke. Ish'kirya turned around. He was still getting used to seeing her without her helmet, before her own morning ritual.

"Woke with the sunrise. What can I say?"

"You say a lot. Is the levin rod ready then?"

"Nope. A little bit of patience goes a long way, you know." It was taking longer than he expected, though he'd never admit it in so many words. Lotus stood and took a look at his workdesk. He looked up at her expectantly, hoping his return-fire gaze would deter her from watching over his shoulder.

"You're working with a pocket knife?"

"There's a needle here too, if you look with your eyes."

"Mm."

"What? Use your vocabulary," he scolded, turning his chair all the way around. "We're not fuckin' lush on tools, you know."

"There's probably something better to use."

Ish'kirya hated these vague sentiments. His mothers were big fans of them; nudging him in an indeterminate direction, expecting him to get it with the faintest 'suggestions' of advice and patting themselves on the back for words that barely counted as hints. He gave Lotus a withering look, but her back was turned. Great. He'd be passive aggressively nudged to success from—

"Here."

By the time he turned his back, Lotus had approached him. Between fur-lined digits was what Ish'kirya could only describe as a tiny spear (he had seen the like in RPGs); a thin implement with a bladed edge on the end, sharpened to a tight point. The whetting wasn't even, but the end was precise enough despite the more than apparent handmadeness to it.

"What's this?"

"Scalpel."

Ish'kirya took it into his own hands and twirled it. A scalpel, she said. He tested it on the side of the desk, watching it curl up a wood shaving in its wake.

"Cool."

Lotus said nothing. They weren't the type for please's and thank you's, between Ish'kirya's brash demeanour and Lotus's unapologetic silence. Despite how far behind Shaaloani was, it possessed of niches that Ish'kirya hated to admit he needed. Perhaps he would learn to find it enough.

"How long will it take?" Lotus broke the silence.

"I'm a getting tired of this 'are we there yet' routine, you know. It's giving three-year-old."

Lotus stared dead at Ish'kirya, then made her way downstairs for breakfast. Truly, the preferable means of communication between them was non-verbal.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Red's night terrors, regrettably, had become a natural alarum for Imogen at this point. She awoke to his scream with a jolt still — that much hadn't been blunted and desensitised, yet — but she relaxed easier than she did the first time, her hands ghosting over Red like a shawl.

"Red. It's me," she said no louder than a whisper, and clinically shook him by the shoulders. It was a gentle jostle, like riding a chocobo carriage on an uneven road. She modulated her voice to rise slightly with every "Red", until she was speaking at normal volume (which, for Imogen, was anyone else's outdoor voice).

Eventually, he quieted awake.

"Sorry," he said. "I—"

Imogen cut him off. "I was having a weird nightmare, so cheers for that."

Red rubbed Althyk's sand from his lashes, turning his bleary blues to her. "What about?"

"I don't really wanna talk about it, honestly."

"Fair do's. Me neither."

Imogen kicked her way out of the blanket and cracked some fire crystals under the kettle, which had a permanent place on their stove. The Kugane estate that Yoki had rented was certainly intended for weddings, she thought; nowhere else would they offer a kitchenette next to the bedroom. She walked her fingers through the tea bag labels, flickering past the various citrus and ginger variants. She fished out two mild greens and dropped them into twin cups — the handleless, Hingan variant.

Red eventually got up and joined her, watching the kettle. He poured it out as she held out the ceramics. He insisted on doing the honey, too, and Imogen was particular about how squeezy 'one squeeze' was.

She wasn't used to seeing the moonlight against the grey of his hair, so she didn't look at it. She only ran her eyes along the fissures of his scars, relieved to still see most of them there.

"Kanpai," said Imogen.

"… Sure," snorted Red.

Imogen brought her tea to bed and took Red's once-place on the far side, where fear-wrought sweat still clung to the sheets. Her breath skid along the surface and turned to fog, then in her impatience, she scalded her tongue with a flinchless sip.

Red didn't drink his tea yet, and that was fine. Imogen was so easily offended by the star, but not him. She slipped a tome off the bedside table by her and waved it at him.

"We've still got a chapter of this pillowbook to devour," she said enticingly, and Red laughed. She didn't know what she'd do if that was taken away from her too, so she savoured every note, memorised the key.

"I thought ye hated th' last chapter."

"Yeah, that's why I want to read more of it. I need more kindling for my fireplace of ire. I'm a hatred-engine running out of steam."

"Or — 'ere's a wild idea — ye actually enjoy the story—"

"I would rather be devoured alive than admit such a thing."

T'was a strange metaphor, yet Red skated past it gracefully. "Right. I'll be Lord Aurumspire and you'll be Lady Bronzebosom?"

"No, let's mix it up this time. You read Lady Bronzebosom's lines."

"I'm flattered, dove. Y'think I've got the bosom to pull it off?"

"Bosom doesn't sound like a word anymore."

Red languidly held one side of the book from the top, and Imogen supported the other with a limp, lackadaiscal wrist. She thumbed the wearing pages, and noticed that they were almost through the novel entirely. Her breath hitched on something in her throat she didn't know was there. She had every temptation to just close the book on Red's fingers and try to read in silence.

Every temptation save one. One small voice in the back of her head, that she gave voice to quietly.

"Let's try and finish this tonight."

"Eager fer the climax?"

"Shut up."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The bead-woven entryway parted for a pair of chesnut brown ears, one bisecting the curtain and the other following quickly after. A'tari sat up straight on her sleeping mat, tail fraying at the ends.

It was just A'khadia.

"You should have knocked!"

"On fuckin' what?" A'khadia popped his head back and punched a fist through the curtain in its stead. A'tari chortled, her laughter its own little song, as she waved him in.

"Okay, you can come in now. Thank you for finally showing some decorum."

"Don't get used t' it." He cut a path through the generous space that they'd been given for the festivities, astral wind prickling in his wake. He wasted no time in sitting, cross legged, across his sister. He wasted even less getting to the point. Even the Warrior of Light couldn't dodge it.

"Ye alright? Y'left the council faster than I could blink."

"Of course! I just… had so many ideas, I needed to write them down."

There was no parchment in sight; they both stared at the empty space where it would've been. A'tari was a bad liar when it came to A'khadia specifically, for the sheer reason that she already knew he'd call her bullshit no matter what she said.

"Tari, s'kosher if yer overwhelmed. No one ever makes me do a speech 'cause they know I'd rather jump off'a cliff."

With a great, windy sigh, the Warrior of Light was toppled to her deathbed with mere sentiment.

"It's different for you. They ask me to do speeches wherever I go. Just because I'm a bard doesn't mean I'm good with words!" She pressed her palms into her eyes until she saw stars, the pressure staying her impending headache. "And I don't know anything about war tactics or intertribe politics. I'm not a leader! All I do is hit things until they die."

"Ye saved the star more'n once. Yer more right to be a leader than I am."

"Saving the world doesn't mean you're any good at leading it."

Only recently, she'd accepted the mantle of sage advisor, someone worth following. Past the stars in her eyes, she hears flashes of echo-embedded memories: a horrific wet gurgle parting wisened scales into soft palates of flesh — chalkboard screeches, manic and unyielding to metre, amid blinding gold — and not so far off in the distance, the full, swelling silence of Elene'shpya amid the fading twinkle of electrope.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Khade. Why does everyone think I know what I'm doing? Why does everyone think I'm you?"

A'khadia's hand was ilms from A'tari's shoulder before it retracted, fingers frozen mid-stretch. "Me?"

"You built all of this, palisade by palisade. You made every decision that kept these people alive. I gallivanted my way around Eorzea and fell into success."

A'khadia shook his head. "That ain't fair, Tari. Lizha designed the layout, the farms… I just helped hunt down th'seeds. Dusa stopped me makin' some stupid, headarse decisions n' took 'em into her own hands. And without yer help with the O'ghomoro, we'd all be tempered by now. It's never bin' just me."

A'tari breathed deep of her brother's words.

"I wish the Scions were here," she said, curling up into herself. She couldn't keep the secret from her twin for too much longer, but how she missed them. Alphinaud taking care of silk-spoken words, Alisaie having such a way with compelling ones — swooping in when A'tari suddenly forgot all the vocabulary in the star, Echo and all. Urianger and Y'shtola's thoughtful solutions to age-old problems, Thancred and Estinien's furtive efforts with people on the ground — where A'tari couldn't keep track of the small, moving parts, tunnel-visioned entirely on the monstrous threat in front of her. G'raha and Krile's innate senses for space and aether, concepts she could only dream of grasping, to see beyond what the barely-mage was capable of. And, though she never thought she'd miss it rather than fear it, Tataru's unstoppable sense for business — it encompassed everything she was struggling to do here today.

All these thoughts filled the silence between them. They fell into it often, the twin satellites.

"Let me help ye wit' the speech," A'khadia offered.

"No, you can't do it for me. I can't keep letting people do things for me because I can't. You've already done enough for our people, all because I was scared—"

"Never said I'd do it for ye. Lemme help."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It's been eleven years since Dalamud ravaged Eorzea. All those years ago… near everyone we knew was suddenly gone. We'd barely grown beyond cubhood, and now we had the weight of the Antelope's legacy on our shoulders.

It weren't easy. All the family we had was each other, y'see — our mother and Nunh were in Thal's hands — an' the options weren't plenty. We made the 'ard decision to part ways. But it wasn't 'cause we decided t' give up.

I had no idea how I was going to help other people, let alone a tribe. I wanted to figure out who I was, what I was good at. I travelled across Eorzea and threw myself at everything. I'm sure many of you know the habits I fell into, drinking deep of my cups, staying up until the Lover's Bell, living from paycheck to paycheck. A'khadia supported me despite all that.

An' I didn't know how t' live without people aroun' me. I wasn't built ind'pendent like that. I travelled 'tween the tribes and y'let me learn yer ways. Ye didn't have to, and some of ye couldn't — I was another mouth t' feed on top of everythin' that'd happened. But ye all humbled me. I learned so much about our people. A'tari kept me company on the suns that no one could spare a hand.

It was in finding my own way that I learned how to be strong for other people.

It was the strength a' other people tha' helped me find me own way.

The Rising always sits under the constellation of the Goddess, the Balance. Nald'thal presides over it too. They both call us to keep, well, balance — between the self and the people. Between each other. To give when you take, to help when you're helped. It's one of life's many cycles that the Traders preside over.

Thank ye all for comin' to our Risin' memorial celebration today. Ye've helped us all so much, an' we wanna return it. Tari and I'll be sittin' here all evenin'. If ye need advice, a lil' helpin' hand, or even jus' an ear to listen, we'll do our best. We ain't miracle workers — we ain't the Warden — but we're both better listeners than talkers, anyhow.

… That's it! We're gonna sit down now. Come one, come all!

Yeah, jus' lemme take a leak first.

— Khadia Nunh of the Windrunner Antelope Tribe, and the Warrior of Light of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn The Seventh Astral Era, Yr. 11

[yaffles-world]

Can I pls request a Reigen x reader one shot in which Y/n finds out shes pregnant after having a one night stand with Reigen. She first told Serizawa about it but told him to keep it a secret but Serizawa accidentally spills it to Reigen when they were having a conversation. Reigen is shocked but also offended that he was not the first to know about it but Y/n tells him she just didnt want to make things awkward between them because theyre workmates and shes also scared of his reaction. Fluff and comfort plss

A/N: hey! Sorry about the wait. Thanks for being my first coherent request! I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it. Also I hope you don't mind but I still used gender neutral pronouns because.. well... it didn't feel necessary to make it a fem reader, as the author is someone who can get pregnant and uses they/them. Whew been a long time since I've done an x reader lol. I hope I covered everything you requested!

Warnings: lots of fluffy comfort hehe, brief mention of abortion but it's conclusion is very ambigious (Reigen is pro choice basically)

Word count: 1.3k

Taglist: @irummna @zooterscooter

I tapped my foot obsessively on the ground. I pulled open my phone, double checking the calendar… we were careful. I caught Reigen looking at me over his computer and I felt red creep up onto my cheeks. It was just a one time thing. It was a silly mistake. A wonderful, but ultimately one off, event. We knew that going in…

He was still looking at me. I smiled weakly, and he raised his eyebrow.

"You alright, y/n?"

A one time thing. We knew that moving forward.

"I'm fine!" I said, my voice cracking slightly. Serizawa looked up from his desk, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you alright?" I asked Reigen, trying to deter further questions.

He paused. "I'm… Fine… thanks?"

I checked my phone again. There was no doubt about it… definitely late. I don't know why it hadn't clicked until today. I just happened to notice and now I have to stay here for… 6 hours before I can check.

I tapped my feet incessantly. At least stimming was very commonplace in this office. But Reigen kept looking at me… I even felt Serizawa staring at me.

I took a deep breath. Worrying isn't going to change anything. I tried to focus on the bookkeeping, but my eyes keep blurring with tears.

I pushed my chair out, suddenly. It made a harsh scraping noise against the floor.

"Excuse me, I'll be back in a second."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Serizawa said, moving to get up, but I waved my hands dismissively.

"I'm really fine."

"Tch, okay, don't be too long then," Reigen said.

I went down the stairs and down the road to the chemist. Luckily there was one easily within walking distance of the office… It was a cold day, the wind was bristly. I rubbed my arms as I fought off the cold. It stung at my eyes. I pushed open the chemist doors and there was a whoosh of hot air from inside. And a strong smell of old people.

I made a beeline for the pregnancy tests and pushed it onto the counter. It was deserted. I made no eye contact, and hurriedly paid, before pushing into the office.

Conveniently, at least, I suddenly got the urge to pee. I pushed open the door to the toilet for our office. In all other circumstances it being outside the main room was inconvenient, but I was thankful now for the privacy.

…

Now we wait… I always hated waiting. My hands were shaking. It was just a one off thing… it wasn't meant to have CONSEQUENCES.

Two lines.

Faint, but clear as day.

What. The. Fuck.

I couldn't begin to process. I felt my body slump forward, and I just sobbed. I can't tell him. But doesn't he deserve to know? He can't know. It will ruin everything. It will be so awkward, he's gonna hate me, I'm pregnant oh my god I'm pregnant with Reigen Arataka's baby, I can't do this, I can't tell him, I'm-

I heard a knock on the door. I gasped and tried desperately to hold back the sobs.

"Y/n? Is that you?" Serozawa spoke softly.

I sniffled.

I heard him sit down on the other side of the door.

"Listen, I know I'm not the most put together person but I care about you. I'm a good listener I promise."

I shuffled over to the door and sat with my back against it.

"Do you wanna talk about it? I've been told I give great hugs."

I giggled slightly then sighed. "I think I'm pregnant."

He was silent for a long time.

"Oh. Right…"

"Yeah. I just took a test."

"Do you know who the father is?"

"Regrettably, yeah… It's Reigen."

"Oh. Well… I'm sure he'll be supportive. He can come off a bit… you know… sometimes, but, as you know, he's a great guy and he's good with kids so-"

"He can't know." I said suddenly, surprising myself. Serizawa went silent again. "At least not yet…"

"Okay. Well. It's gonna be okay. I promise."

I laughed. "I don't believe you."

"Try hugging me first." Serizawa said, and I stood up slowly. I opened the door, and he stood up. I basically fell into his arms. He wrapped his arms around me tight, and held my head with his hand, holding me close. He smelt like fresh laundry detergent, and he was unbelievably warm.

"You're right, you give great hugs." I squished my face into his chest. Maybe it was gonna be okay.

"Hey, what are you two doing?! I pay you to work!" Reigen said, walking out of the office to see where his two best employees had gone.

"Sorry boss. I just heard y/n crying so I came to check on them."

"Oh," Reigen's expression softened, as he looked at me. He went to reach out, but then shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing. Just that time of the month." I winced.

"Right… we could go for drinks later if you like? Cheer you up?"

"Um, maybe that's not the best idea." Serizawa said. I glared at him. Reigen looked at him confused, as panic started to set into his face and he stood like a deer in the headlights.

"What do you mean?"

Serizawa stammered. "Well, um, uhhh, your a lightweight?"

Reigen blinked slowly. "That's never changed anything. What's wrong? I'm not leaving until this is resolved. That's the boss's job." He waved his hands emphatically.

I looked desperately at Serizawa. I was sweating bullets and so was he. God damn it. I couldn't think of anything to say.

Reigen tapped his foot and waved his hands again. "Well? I'm waiting!"

"Y/n is pregnant!"

"What?!" Reigen and I both exclaimed loudly, staring incredulous at Serizawa.

Serizawa looked like he was about to cry. "I'm so sorry I was scared and it had to come out eventually but I'm still so so sorry-"

I sighed and wrapped my arm around a crying Serizawa as Reigen stared at me. I couldn't read his expression. He looked shocked but I couldn't tell beyond that. I gave Serizawa a hug. "Do you mind giving us a minute?"

He nodded and slunk back into the office.

Reigen stood there. Blinking. Expressionless.

"You're pregnant."

I wrung out my hands. "Well, it's too early to really tell, but the urine test was positive and I'm late for my period."

"It's mine."

"Mhm." I almost tore off my skin with how quick I was rubbing my hands together. Reigen silently reached out and took my hands, still staring into the distance.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I only found out 5 minutes ago."

"Serizawa said 'it was gonna come out eventually'. You were planning on keeping my child a secret?"

Oh boy.

"No, of course not, I just wanted some time. At least confirm it with a doctor. I didn'twant to make things awkward... I'm sorry. I was scared."

Reigen nodded slowly, still staring into the distance, before shrugging. "I suppose that makes sense…"

I nodded.

We stood in silence for what felt like hours. The buzz of the radiator is the only noise.

"What now…?"

Reigen took a deep breath. "I care about you deeply."

I blushed despite the cold.

"Whatever our relationship is, I want to be involved, and I want to help you." He squeezed my hands and finally made eye contact. "We're in this together. If you want to be."

"I do want to be…" I mumbled.

He pulled me in close for a hug. He was colder than Serizawa, and smaller, but he held on tighter. He held on like he was scared to let go.

"I want you to know I support you no matter what choice you take. Including a safe abortion, or putting it up for adoption. We're in this together, but it's your body, and it's up to you."

I squeezed him in tight, burying my nose in his neck.

"Now… How about we take the rest of the day off, hey?" He said, rubbing my shoulder. "Go drink some lemonade and talk about this."

I nodded. "I'd like that."

[leng-m]

hi! i hope i'm not being too weird by sending this ask 😅

re the twiyor wedding photos, i did some digging and this is what i found

the girl in the original photo is Hong Hanh, she and her husband Ngoc Hai are fitness trainers in Hanoi, Vietnam anyway thanks haha your tag got me looking up stuff

while i'm here, might as well say that i love your writing. i've read your fma stuff back then and i've started reading The Malicious Wind a while back and i really liked it so far. really loved your take on filipino mythology. but l haven't gotten around to finishing it yet because life. also great seeing a kababayan in here ahahaha that's all you're amazing, keep up the great work!

Hi, you're not being weird at all!! This ask made my day, in fact!

Thank you, I looked them up and their other wedding photos were so cute! She was gorgeous in that one photo, so I got curious 😂

Oh wow, I'm so glad you enjoy my stories!! I always get so excited when fellow kababayan read my original work and end up liking it! It's like, "Whew, I didn't mess up!" Haha! I'm currently feeling rather nostalgic for fandom, so I might actually go back and write a fanfic or two, though I'm not sure if it's going to be for FMA (I'm kinda in a DBZ funk after 10 years lol), but I do miss LingFan a lot!

Thanks for the message!!

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Malleus Draconia Lab Coat Personal Story: Part 2

"Allow me to reward you"

(Part 1) Part 2

[Courtyard]

Deuce: So, Draconia-senpai. You called me out where no one might see us… What is it you want?

Malleus: …

Deuce: I don't know what I did to offend you, but… I ain't gonna run away just 'cause you're older than me!

Deuce: I'll take on this fight, no prob! Let's let our fists do the talking, 'til only one of us is left standing!

Deuce: Come on!! Let's go already!!

Malleus: Spade. Look at this.

Deuce: Hell yeah, if you need me to look at somethin', I'll look at it, sure, come at me!

Deuce: …Wait, huh? Look? …At what?

Malleus: Why are you standing there like that? Hurry and put out your hand.

Deuce: Ah, yes, sir…

Malleus: …This thing that I've handed you is something very precious to me. However, it was sprayed in water, and it no longer functions.

Malleus: I would like you to repair it.

Deuce: What, you weren't calling me out for a fight…? Wait, repair it!? Me!?

Deuce: Wh-Why me?

Malleus: Diamond told me that you know a thing or two about these sorts of devices.

Deuce: But, it's not like I can fix anything too complicated like that…

Malleus: I am telling you that I am relying on you to fix it. Or, are you saying you will not do it?

Deuce: …

Deuce: …I mean, I don't know if I can fix it without trying, I guess. But…

Deuce: But I'm being asked to try by a Dorm Leader from another dorm.

Deuce: If I refuse here, then that'll tarnish the Heartslabyul name. I will try my best.

Malleus: Good response. Thank you.

Deuce: …Besides, it'd probably be better to make you happy versus incur your wrath, so.

Malleus: Fufu, I do not care what your reasoning is, as long as you fix it. …So, what do we do first?

Deuce: You said it got water on it, right? If so, then the first thing we need to do is dry it out.

Deuce: I wonder… What's going on inside this thing?

Deuce: I want to open up the lid, but I don't have a screw driver. Guess I'll have to try using something else.

Malleus: How dexterous… You opened that small lid quite quickly.

Deuce: I just used a box cutter to unscrew it, it's not really anything worth being impressed over.

Malleus: Is that so? I am not familiar with this kind of detailed work. It would be simple for me if it were something magical, however.

Deuce: Ah, then, could I ask you to use wind or fire magic? If you did, it'd dry faster.

Malleus: A simple request.

[Malleus casts fire and wind magic]

Deuce: Wha― Both wind and fire magic at the same time!? I can't believe you can whip out two different types of magic at once like that…

Deuce: And wait, it doesn't have to be as strong as a tornado or anything! I feel like I'm gonna be blown away too…!

Malleus: I didn't think I put too much power into it…

Deuce: Weaker! Please try to make it a gentle breeze! Slowly, gently!

Malleus: Slowly, hm. …How is this?

Deuce: Yes, this is better… Whew, that scared me. How much am I gonna have to practice to be able to use magic like you do?

Malleus: Practice…? That is a difficult question. My life has always revolved around magic.

Malleus: In my hometown of Briar Valley, it is rare to come across devices that are purely mechanical. Most are magical devices.

Deuce: You're not saying that you were born being able to do this level of magic, were you…?

Malleus: I wonder. My childhood was quite a time ago, so I do not remember well.

Malleus: However, magic relies on familiarity. Regardless of your actual magical power, the more you use it, the better you will be at handling it. There is no question about that.

Deuce: Yes, sir. …I'll make sure to do my best, too.

Deuce: …Ah, I think it's pretty dry now? Please stop your magic.

Malleus: How does it look, will you be able to repair it?

Deuce: As far as I can see, it doesn't look like there's no other issues with it. I'll close the lid and we can see how it goes.

Deuce: Here you go. …How is it?

Malleus: …

Malleus: It works!

Deuce: Great! I'm glad it's fixed!

Malleus: You did well, Spade. Thank you.

Deuce: I mean, it's not like any of the parts were broken, so it was pretty easy…

Malleus: No need to be modest. Right, allow me to reward you.

Deuce: Reward…? Eh, wait, is this one of those rare ores they say can only be found in Briar Valley…!?

Malleus: Is it not enough? Then, I shall provide more…

Deuce: No, sir! If anything, it'll be hard to deal with just this…

Malleus: You fixed something quite precious to me. This reward is the least I could do.

Malleus: Ah, I must feed it now.

Malleus: Goodbye, Spade. Thank you for today.

Deuce: Y-Yes, sir. Thanks for trusting me.

[Malleus disappears]

Deuce: …And he's gone! Man, he's really a strange guy.

Deuce: …"Feed it," huh. Yeah, it was beeping non-stop after turning it back on, I guess.

Deuce: But I didn't think that that Malleus Draconia's "precious thing" would be…

Deuce: Feed it, raise it! What kind of pet will it grow into? Gao Gao Drago-kun!

Deuce: ...Wasn't that the small pocket pet game that was super popular when I was a little kid?

Deuce: That takes me back… Pretty sure I had one on my keychain that I'd walk around and raise, too.

Deuce: For him to care that much for a kid's toy like that… Draconia-senpai's really a puzzle.

(Part 1) Part 2

[peskyfirefly]

hi hi mishmish!! happy sleepover! those haikyuu charms you got are sooo cute! miya with his fluffy ass hair!! i just got my hoshina charm actually and i loveeee it its so cute his head is so round. this made me realize/remember though that i'm going to a big anime convention next month and... i fear for my wallet...

anyway i wanted to say hi!! i would ask for manga recs since akatsuki no yona is such a banger (HEARTWRENCHING RN THO) but i'm in the middle of a haikyuu reread! and then i really wanna reread akagami no shirayukihime!! have you been reading anything fun lately? manga or books? i've been in a huuuuge reading slump for novels but whew manga does not pose the same problem thankfully haha

thank you for being such a delight and thank you for torturing me sharing pics of those silly lil dudes!!!

hi fuji my most lovely bestie<33 happy sleepover!!

aaaa yes im so happy with the hq charms!! they bring me sooo much joy 🥹

HOSHINA CHARM?? DID U GET THE HOSHINA ONE I SENT U???? im still waiting for mine 😭 WAIT are we gonna have matching hoshina charms?? omg what are we..... 😳

im fearing for ur wallet too rn LOL...we've all been there tho i feel u. i went to a convention last month and didnt see much haikyuu stuff which is why i had to go to etsy to get my fill asdfghkl;. maybe its changed a little now since the movie came out and everyones back into it?? idk.

is there some kinda merch ur looking for at the con? are u going to panels or meeting any celebs or anything?? are u gonna cosplay? 👀👀

i love cons, they bring me so much joy<3

IM SO GLAD U LOVED AKATSUKI NO YONA AAAAAAAA and oooo haikyuu is such a great rereading choice

oh no i think i might be out of bangers...yona is all i got.....what do u like to read for manga? o: im ngl i tend to read a lot of romance type stuff asdfghjkl. its usually how i wind down at night. and its easy when im in a book reading slump which im in rn (crying)

i read a book a couple weeks ago called all systems red by martha wells. it was good but. it just didnt grip me so. my slump resumes....

im just read the mafia nanny. and im currently reading my first love hate. aaand im lowkey rereading akatsuki no yona of course asdfhjkl;

as for recs:

yakuza fiance

fullmetal alchemist

fruits basket

the apothecary diaries

when jasy whistles

my reason to die

aLSO THANK U for being such a sweetheart ilu and thank u for accepting all the thirsty art i find and send u asdfghjkl

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Hi!! I absolutely love your work and have for a very long time. Your writing always brings a smile to my face and this has become a sort of comfort blog. Do you think you could do Mirelurk Queen - i’m not giving up on you - for Butch and a depressed Lone? Have an amazing day and I'm so proud and happy for your accomplishments:);)!!!

Ohhhh yes, another FO3 ask! 😁

And omg, thank youuuu. I'm so glad this is a source of comfort for you, ahh, that makes me so happy! 😩 <3

Aww, this is perfect for him though. I feel like Butch would actually be super good at cheering you up 😊

Also, just a quick tw for depressive symptoms/thoughts!

A shiver passed through Lone's body as the evening wind blew up to the steel balcony. The railing was like ice where their fingers grasped it, and they loosed another deep exhale, trying in vain to steady their frenzied breath.

It's not your fault. Their trained inner monologue chanted like a meaningless drone, firing off the words that were supposed to mean something, that were supposed to make them feel better. Words that they were meant to believe, but never quite could.

Dad did what's best for me.

I was meant to leave the vault.

There are still people out here who care about me. Amata doesn't blame me. She still cares about me, even if I can't go back. It's what's best for me.

They outwardly scoffed at it all, feeling that dull ache in their chest as their hands continued tightening their grip on the metal railing outside their Megaton home.

Lone sighed as their heartbeat began to feel more regular, as their thoughts slowed their spiraling.

I'd better get back inside, if I'm gone when Butch--

The heavy metal door clicked open behind them, the creak of the old steel hinges ringing in their ears as the sound of light footsteps drew nearer.

"Lone, baby, what are you doing out here?"

A warm touch landed on their shoulder as he settled beside them on the balcony. They tried not flinch at the touch.

"Nothing, just... couldn't sleep." Even Lone knew their voice sounded hollow as they responded, but what could they say? He caught them a little off guard this time.

"Geeze, you're freezing, baby." Butch's hand encouraged them closer as his fingers brushed over the skin of their exposed arm. "C'mere."

Lone allowed it as their partner pulled them into a hug, not responding to the affection, but not denying him either.

They couldn't deny it, the warmth made them feel a little more alive than they had a moment ago.

"Even if ya can't sleep, it doesn't mean you gotta come out here and freeze, you know?"

Butch felt an increased pressure against his chest as they nodded to him, slowly sinking into his embrace, feeling their muscles unclench somewhat as his arms rubbed comfortingly over their back.

A shiver made their body tremble against his, and the cool of the air seeped in through Butch's thin undershirt and shorts as another breeze picked up.

"Whew, 'kay, let's get inside, huh?"

"You go on," Lone pulled away from his grasp gently, returning to their place at the edge of the rail. "I need a few more minutes."

Biting his lip, Butch took a step and a half towards the house, before turning back on his heel with a look of determination.

"Not to impede your freedoms there, hon, but another few minutes and I'll have an icicle for a partner."

"I'll be fine, Butch. Just go back to bed, I'll be there before you know it."

Despite the dismissal, Butch settled beside them, his forearms leaning against the rail as he looked out over the city with them.

"Perfect, then I'll just wait with you."

He heard your sigh, and the slight smirk he wore faded from his face.

"What's going on, baby? You can talk to me, you know?"

They stayed silent, the deluge of possible responses filling their mind until they were visibly overwhelmed. Blue-grey eyes bore into them as their lip trembled, and they cursed their body for giving away what they tried to hold so close to them. What they tried at all costs to ignore. Especially when Butch was near.

He left the vault on purpose. He couldn't wait to get out of there. How could he ever understand the way I feel? How could I ask him to?

He's happy now. Happier than he ever was in the vault, I can't ask him to try and sympathize with me. I can't make him feel regret for his choice, can't make him second-guess himself like that.

"Hey, earth to Lone?" His shoulder bumped theirs affectionately, "You got anything for me?"

Their head shook before they could think to do otherwise.

"Alright, hey, I get it. I can take a hint." He leaned back again, but still, his form remained beside them. Lone could see his thoughtful expression in their peripheral vision. "But you wanna know something?"

Lone's chin bobbed in a small nod, letting him know that they were listening still.

"Even if you don't wanna talk about it, I've still gotcha, okay? I'm not giving up on you, baby. Not ever, cuz you know what?"

Lone's eyes fell to him, their head at last turning so they could properly meet his gaze.

"Cuz you're my partner. You never gave up on me, even when I was an ass to you all those years. Even when you thought I'd never make it out here--" Lone opened their mouth, one hand coming up to pause his words, but Butch carried on.

"Ah, no, I know you thought that, don't try and deny it." He laughed, and Lone's lips were forced into a small smile of their own. "You still stuck by me though. That's what it is to be part of a gang. Looking out for your posse, no matter what. And you an' me? Well, there may just be two of us, but you're as much a Tunnel Snake now as anybody. Even more so, since we're an item, you know? So I'm gonna stick by you, Lone. No matter what, ya hear me?"

They nodded to him again, the smile sticking to their lips like sweet honey as they allowed his words to sink in.

"I hear you, Butch." They said so quietly, it was almost like they'd just mouthed the words. Their touch was louder, as their head fell to rest on his shoulder and they leaned in close.

[entropicquilibriumofchaos]

Right back at you for the fic ask meme! How about 18, 33, and 50?

18. What’s your most underrated fic?

Hmmm I think it has to be either Fourth Annual Cauldron Lake Ice Hockey Tournament or Rewrite the Ending. Wildly different but both are actually pretty decent I think?

33. Is there any particular character whose scenes always wind up being longer/more frequent than you expected? Does the quality hold up?

I'm honestly not sure! I feel like I'm usually pretty equal with characters but really I'm just focusing on telling a story. I write in a style of seeing the scene happen in my head and trying to recreate that; almost trying to use stage directions I would give as a guide.

50. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

Writing fanfic has DEFINITELY impacted my life and unfortunately I don't think it's all been positive. Specifically, I think the negative connotations around being a fanfic writer have really impacted me. I was an avid writer when I was younger and I was very passionate about it. Obviously I kept writing as I grew up, but I kept hearing about how "cringey" writing fanfic was and it definitely hurt my (already waning) self esteem. I completely stopped writing for fun in high school and didn't post anything until my freshman year of college. Thankfully it was around then that I decided to not give a flying fuck about what people thought about my hobbies and I started writing again. But even now I'm a bit self-conscious about it. My partner is a published author and sometimes comparing myself to him makes me feel like an imposter just because I write for established worlds and characters.

But I'm working through that! Writing in any form is still a creative work of art and works of art are meant to be created and shared.

Whew okay yeah that was long but yeah! Thanks for the ask!!!!

[dragonmasterhiccup]

Danny seemed very proud of herself, observing her own work with a prideful expression on her face. “She does look great, you’re right, and it’s all thanks to me-“ She was cut off by Olga’s sudden attack.

Immediately, she bursted out laughing, and she didn’t stop for a while. She tried, but the image of Hiccup getting the wind knocked out of him kept replaying in her head every time she looked at him, and that only made her laugh harder. Eventually, she turned around and faced the wall, running her hands down her face before wiping her eyes, which had a couple stray tears of laughter falling out of them.

Taking multiple deep breaths, she turned back around. “Oh my Gods, that was great! Are- are you okay though?” she asked, trying to sound sincere, although it was clear she was holding back more laughter.

He held up a hand, though he was still bent over. "Y-yeah. Whew. I can't imagine how that would have felt without my armor on." He took a few breaths, giving himself a little time for the pain to subside. That sheep held nothing back!

"Looks like I will have two hoof shaped bruises for a bit, to fondly remember Olga by..." He straightened up, leaning on Toothless.

"I see you got your wish. Happy Snoggletog." He was sarcastic, of course. He hoped she didn't genuinely want him in pain, but...she did laugh pretty hard. He had to admit, though, he didn't think he'd ever heard her laugh that hard.

"Have you recovered yet? Seems like you got a lot of joy out of that...interaction."

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Chapter 39: Longing

Whew! It’s time for some emotional reparations~ 

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

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

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 20,500+

Summary: While you long for mending your broken heart so you can move on in your new life, Javi longs to get back what he's lost: you. Will he be able to find a way back to you?

Warnings: Mentions of diet and food habits, exercise routines, masturbation and previous sexual encounters. Descriptions of depression, emotional trauma, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, resentment, and regret. Allusions to past trauma, loss of spiritual faith, toxic relationships, and unexpected health concerns. Depressed!Javi, Hopeful!Javi, Stubborn!Javi, Angry!OFC. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 38: Enough 

Chapter 39: Longing

The feeling looming darkly in the distance had been deafening in the chaos swirling around you.

You were running again, desperate to get out of the darkness and away from the screams that were rattling through you, but unable to understand why the tunnel had become the road – why you were seeing the upturned taillights of the car flaring like warning beacons in the fog.

Not here. I don't want to be here—

The alarm clock goes off, and you jolt in bed, brow perspiring and hair clinging to your sweaty neck.

Sitting up in bed, you bury your face in your hands and concentrate on breathing. The anxiety kicked up by the nightmare was manageable compared to what the horrible dream had become the last several months, but it still left you winded and shaken.

You chalk it up to it being the first time you've been back in the apartment since the wedding.

After everything that had happened, you'd managed to leave Colombia with a hopeful and positive outlook thanks to having mended things with your father. It had surprised you how easily forgiveness had come to you, and how receptive he'd been to apologizing.

Really, you both had felt the ice thaw after you'd called him and asked him for his help. Having to listen to him coldly calculate the damage he would inflict to the people who'd wronged you had made you crack and exactingly tell him he would not interfere in your plans. Instead of fighting you, he'd agreed to help, and had asked if you both could speak again soon.

You hadn't expected for him to make good on it and show up in person to the house in Medellín. After your emotional reunion, he'd made up for lost time as best as he could, and you'd let your guard down enough to accept he was making an effort, especially when you both went to the family tomb so he could pay his respects. Overcome, you'd cried on his shoulder, and told him how much you missed everyone.

"I miss your mother every day. She and her family were important to me, tesoro. I need you to know that."

You'd sighed, nodded, and murmured, "'Buela had a picture of you on her altar. She prayed for you every night…I wish you'd been here."

He'd hugged you tight, acknowledging your statement with a raspy hum, but answered, "I'm here now. I want things to be different. Eres mi única hija, y te amo con toda mi alma."

You're my only daughter, and I love you with my entire soul. His voice was unwavering and genuine. It had made it easy to lean into him and promise to work on your relationship. To call, stay in touch and visit.

He'd tried to convince you to leave Colombia with him, but you'd decided you wanted to go back to the capital and spend Sasha's last few days there showing him around and decompressing from everything. You'd even taken him to Don Gilberto's, where he was smitten with the coffee and a glutton for the pandebonos.

Saying goodbye to the kind owner had surprising been emotional, seeming to represent everything you'd be missing from living in Bogotá.

Sasha, as always, was able to cheer you up though, and from the time you both sat in first class on the flight to New York, to the limo ride to his mother's place on the Upper East Side, he had you in stitches over all the latest gossip and details you needed to be caught up on regarding Irina and Aslan's upcoming nuptials.

Shira Cohen Ivanov – Sasha's mother – was already waiting for your arrivals, and rolled out the red carpet for you. She was so much like her son, but looked like an older version of Irina, and her ability to mortify them both was a charming trait that you reveled in spectating.

"—Your abba is coming to dinner, bubbeleh, so please behave and let him think you finally wore this one down to be your romantic intended?"

"Ima! Blessed hell, you're embarrassing me—"

"What?! You two have canoodled—"

"Mother, please—"

Your giggles only spurred her on, and by the time Irina arrived with their father, you settled in for quite the eccentric dinner.

After weeks living the city girl life running around with Irina to do all the maid of honor duties, you'd surprised her with a lavish bridal shower, and soon enough, you were in the Hamptons at the wedding rehearsal.

Having accepted the career opportunity a month prior, you'd ended up having to travel back and forth on weekends for weeks leading up to the big day. The unconventional bachelorette and bachelor parties aside, you were most crunched for time between work and the wedding events the closer you came to the long weekend everything would be happening.

When said weekend finally arrived, you'd flown into JFK and been picked up by Sasha to then take a helicopter ride out to the exclusive beachfront country club, gotten quickly dressed, and headed down to the sprawling hall the vows would be taken. It had been wonderful to see your friends so happy as they conglomerated together after so long being apart. Their father, Volodymyr Ivanov, was in the advancing stages of his illness, but you wouldn't know it by how boisterous he was, and the sheer delight in Irina's eyes was enough to make you joyful by osmosis.

The day of the wedding, you were happy to take Sasha's arm and head down the aisle lined with lovely roses in hues of white among sprays of ivory, wearing a sultry black gown that matched with the other bridesmaids. Aslan was dressed dapperly, and for the first time since you'd known him, he looked fidgety and eager, nervousness flushing his cheeks and making the blue of his eyes stand out as he squeezed his clasped hands behind his back absently.

When Irina emerged through the glass doors with her father in the ethereal-yet-timeless wedding gown and veil, your heart gushed as she walked down the aisle to the instrumental procession. Sasha stood at Aslan's side, looking reserved, but his eyes glistened with unshed tears, and by the time Volodymyr was handing Irina's hand to him, he was close to blubbering. Attention riveted on the bride, Aslan's expression softened and stayed fixed on Irina's demure smiling features behind the lovely veil.

You manage to make it through the ceremony without shedding a tear, but as soon as the rabbi pronounced them man and wife, and Aslan stepped on the napkin-wrapped glass, tears were rolling down your cheeks.

The reception was an opulent affair. Truly, every socialite and who's who was there, and after tons of champagne, you'd found yourself standing by the French doors that lead out to the deck in order to gaze out at the scene.

Your heart was heavy as the buzz of the champagne made you reminisce about the last wedding you'd been at, and unbidden, memories flashed across your mind like a kaleidoscope. Seeing Irina and Aslan have their first dance had you thinking of Javi spinning you in his arms. Watching the photographer take candids throughout the crowded ballroom made you picture cozying up to Javi for the photo with your grandmother.

But seeing the happy couple hoisted in the chairs and propped merrily up while the music hit a crescendo that had you envisioning what it would've been like had you and Javi been surrounded by family and friends after tying the knot? That had you feeling overwhelmed with melancholy and regret.

So much so, that you didn't hear Sasha calling for you from the bar when you pushed open one of the French doors and ran outside into the chilly night. You've ambled down the steps and onto the beach in your heels, and when they obstruct you from continuing further, you yank them off and run to the shore, where the breeze is the briskest and punishing, to try and decompress from the heat that rose up in you and started to make your pulse race.

You hear your name shouted over the blustering ocean air that's whipping your hair and dress about, but you don't turn until Sasha's warm hand is on your bare shoulder.

"What's happened?! Are you alright, ketsele—?" his inquiries died off when he saw your eyes crinkle woefully before your features fell. Upset, he pulled you into his arms as he crooned, "Hey, hey, no, come here."

"I'm s-sorry, it all just came over me and I c-couldn't stop it—"

"Jesus wept, am I that much of a shitty date?"

Your sniffling laugh is muffled against his chest before you wrap your arms around his waist and shake your head, hiccupping, "N-No, you d-dork!"

He chuckles and kisses the top of your hairline before shedding his tuxedo jacket and pulling it around your bare shoulders. "It's fucking cold out here. Come, let's go back in," he rumbles as he tucks you against his side and escorts you away from the damp sand of the shore.

"No one noticed me run out like an idiot?" you mumble as you scrub the curve of your thumbs across your tear-streaked cheeks.

"Darling, everyone is smashed already. The caterer had just brought in a fourth crate of that fancy Dom vintage champagne when I was at the bar calling you over. Everyone is either dancing like drunken fools or schmoozing shamelessly," he told you amusedly as he helped you up the steps and crouched down to dust the sand off from your soles before taking your stiletto heels to slip them back onto your feet, one by one. "So, at the very least, you and I can filch a bottle for ourselves and go back to the suite – after you let me spin you around the dance floor for a bit."

Squeezing his shoulders and snickering, you nod and smile when he stands from his crouch to chivalrously loop your arm in his in order to escort you back into the ballroom.

You'd danced until late with him, laughing and giddy as he'd pick you up and swung you around like he used to in the old days while the sultry disco mix the DJ was playing filtered dizzyingly over the warm and crowded room. When it was finally time to see the couple out, you both gave Irina big hugs before she was whisked away by Aslan to their first night together as husband and wife. And before he could be cornered by his parents, Sasha had grabbed your hand and towed you in a rush out through a secluded stairwell and up to sneak off to your suite. You were so tipsy that you hadn't even noticed he'd pilfered a bottle of champagne and had it hidden under his tuxedo coat that was flung over his forearm.

When you'd entered the suite, he'd plopped the bottle down on the nearest table and hastily yanked off his bowtie while he kicked off his formal dress shoes. Comically, you'd tried to bend forward to remove your heels but ended up toppling sidelong into the plush couch with a yelp.

Sasha's deep, velvety laugh made you snicker. "Blessed hell, my love. Here, let me help you," he chuckled as he took your heels off and tossed them before shifting you to recline on the sofa. When he'd just been about to stand straight to go retrieve the bottle of champagne, you'd tugged him back down by the pleated collar of his tuxedo shirt. With a grunt, he'd failed to stop himself from ending up sprawled on top of you. "Ooof, sorry, mmph—"

Your lips crashing against his had snuffed his husky retort, and activated that attraction he always was able to store or unpack whenever you both found the gravitation between you shifting from platonic to carnal. And right now? You'd needed to feel the weight of him on top of you, to get lost in the warmth of his mouth on your own and the desire to feel wanted.

His hands assertively grabbed you up so he could adjust you in order to reach for the zipper in the back of your gown while deepening the kiss. But then, when he dragged his ravenous mouth down to suckle nips into your neck while he tugged the zipper down whilst also slipping his other hand up your dress, you'd lulled your head back and clung to his muscled back with a reedy mewl.

"Mmm, Javi…"

Sasha froze in his groping, lips unlatching from your neck as he exhaled a drunk, flustered grumble before deadpanning, "Well…alright, then."

The sound of his voice yanked you back from your proverbial drunken haze. "Oh my god…oh jeez," you'd embarrassedly hissed and covered your flushed face in mortification. "I can't—I'm so-oh my god—"

Acerbically, he'd sat up and flung himself backwards into the opposite side of the plush sofa. "Way to kill my boner, ma chérie," he quipped drolly. At you exhaling in self-reproachful consternation, he'd rolled his eyes and reached his hand out. "Hey, come here. Cut it out. I'm not mad."

Begrudgingly sitting up, you let his hand guide you by your shoulder to come stretch out and cuddle against him, tucked between his muscular frame and the cushions of the couch.

"…I am," you finally mumble. When he grunted in confusion, you elaborated, "I am mad. I'm so stupid—"

"Stop it! You are not. I won't hear you bashing yourself for feeling a longing—"

"I'm sorry," you whisper and curl into him, nuzzling his shoulder when you feel the sting of tears cresting up in you.

Sighing, he rubbed your back, rasping, "Come, I'm going to tuck you in."

You'd let Sasha guide you up from the couch and through the suite to bed, where he helped you shed your gown before tending to taking off your earrings and the bobby pins out from your styled coif in order to let down the rest of your hair, and then pulled the comforter back for you to crawl under and curl onto your side. Dimly, you'd heard him strip out of his clothes, run the shower, and eventually flop heavily onto his side of the large bed. After a silent while, he rolled over and spooned you, and the scent of his clean skin and the comfort of his body heat lulled you into a deep slumber.

Before you'd relocated for your new job, those several weeks in the city had seen you splitting your time between staying at Irina's chic apartment and Sasha spacious loft. And when you'd been at the latter, you'd often end up sleeping in the same bed with him. Either because he'd hear you tossing and turning in the guest room and would crawl into bed with you to cuddle until you both dozed off together, or you'd wake up from nightmares so upset that you'd tiptoe into his room and get under the covers with him. Regardless, your friend would lovingly tuck you against him, or he'd spoon you protectively until you settled down and fell back asleep.

It'd been no different when you'd all gone down to Miami for the opening of 'Worship' a few days after the wedding.

Irina and Aslan had accompanied you both before they'd jet off to their European honeymoon, eager to see the installation. The night before the showing, when you'd both ended up crawling into bed together to eat room service on top of the covers while the TV droned on, Sasha had stretched out with his glass of wine and eyed you with his dreamy, blue-eyed pout.

"Come away with me for the holidays."

You'd paused with the forkful of risotto pursed at your lips as you stared sidelong at him. When you realized he wasn't being cheeky, you popped the fork in your mouth and used chewing as a diversion to think of an answer.

"C'mon, kitten. Irina will be on holiday with Aslan and his family in Monaco. I don't want to be alone with my parents," he'd argued, making a compelling case when he admitted, "I don't want to be without your company, is all."

Frowning, you placed your dish aside and snuggled up to his side to wrap your arm around his waist. "You've been without it a month since I took the job—"

"Yeah, and I've been bored and lonely, so I have no problem guilting you into spending more time with me," Sasha grumpily huffed as he gulped the rest of the wine in his glass down.

"I can't. You know I promised to make more of an effort with my father. I agreed to spend Christmas there," you tell him gently, and when he glowers and casts his sad stare back to the TV, you kiss his cheek and grunt for him to return his attention to you before proposing, "What if you come spend New Year's with me?"

His features soften before he gives you a wolfish smirk. "Yes! I'd love that," he pecks you on the lips. "You can finally show me your roots!"

Snickering, you'd resumed eating and discussing plans for the following day.

As you're pulling yourself out of bed now to trudge to the bathroom to shower and get ready for work, you can't help reminisce on how serendipity had struck at the opening at the gallery, when a fellow artist had been admiring Sasha's piece, 'Worship of Man' and had done what no other patron had – walked the circumference of the piece and spotted the hidden phallic symbol embedded in it that only reveals itself in the prismatic reflection of the glass that surrounds it.

Sasha had stared from afar, and had whispered to you, "Does he see it? No one else has!"

"I think he does, velvel," you'd conspiratorially whispered back before giving his forearm an affectionate squeeze. When he'd looked at you curiously, you'd gestured with the tip of the chin that he should go over and find out. "He's cute. See if he'll mention it!"

Sardonically scoffing at you, he indeed walked over and struck up a conversation with the man. Your friend couldn't fool you. The quick appraising glance he'd given the man when he'd been whispering to you told on him. Sasha did have a type. You watched as he spoke with the handsome, swarthy, athletically-built man with the dark curls and the light brown eyes that flared the color of honey when the lights above head caught in his irises.

Turned out, the handsome trigueño was a Puerto Rican artist known for his artesano pieces and expansive murals. You'd actually walked through a hall with a massive floor to ceiling mural of various illustrations of Sun Gods from around the world that belonged to him, as you'd found out after Sasha hit it off and brought him over to introduce you.

"—This is Marcos Martorell. He did that amazing mural out in the other hall! And, he spotted it," Sasha is gushing charismatically as you shake the handsome muralist's hand.

With a warm, accented tenor, he'd greeted, "Please, call me Marc."

After chatting a while, you'd learned he's from Ponce, Puerto Rico and that he split his time between Miami and Isla Verde, so you both hit it off while Sasha was forced to have to make a few rounds with the press and gallery attendees. Which worked out, because you get to play matchmaker when you caught Marc glancing over at Sasha, noting how his gaze lingered on your friend.

"He's single, and we're just friends."

His stare had whipped back to you, like he'd been caught taking a cookie from the jar without permission, so you smirked and platonically winked at him.

When Irina and Aslan arrived at the gallery during the cocktail hour, you all made a little social unit together, and seeing Sasha and Marc talk art and gush about each other's work while exchanging tons of flirty eye contact made you gleeful.

You'd spent that night with Irina and Aslan, and are just remembering how much fun you had giving Sasha the inquisition over brunch the next morning when you realize you've been dawdling too long under the shower spray and need to pick up the pace.

The hectic back and forth traveling and working had been a merciful salve to your heartache, but there were still things you couldn't bring yourself to do, for fear of falling too deep into a depression. It'd taken weeks for you to call your cousin after you'd left, because of how much speaking to her drudged up your feelings about everything. And when she'd told you the wonderfully cheeky, albeit cryptic message Marisol had left you, you'd stopped short of calling the woman direct. No, you'd been much too raw still, and needed the emotional distance to heal over.

You'd even avoided delving too deeply into how much of a success your take down had been. The exposés involving Stechner and his fall from spook grace had been something you'd skimmed over, because reading in-depth would resurrect all the anxiety you'd buried, or worse – make you relive all the pain from that tumultuous time. And anyway, it wasn't like you really had to read any of it, not with Ellis telling you all the gossip that it'd unleashed within the corridors of DOJ and DOS from as far as Alaska, or so he'd quipped.

And on top of that, your father had made it a point to tell you where that bastard ended up after he'd been done getting raked over the coals, divested of all his clearances, and left pending numerous investigations that could end with him seeing actual jailtime.

The vindictive part of you enjoyed hearing it, but then you'd feel a pang of dismay from the emotions that would flare up like terrible heartburn, leaving you sullen.

As you left your apartment and descended to get in your car, you couldn't help feel that you didn't feel as raw as you had, but definitely were nowhere near rebuilding your emotional fortress back up to what it'd once been.

Deciding to table any more sentimental reflection for the time being, you focus on getting mentally ready for the busy work day. It was your first day back at the federal building, after all, and the morning rush hour to the U.S. Courthouse campus from your side of town was going to be a spicy one.

***

Things hadn't panned out the way he'd hoped.

After he'd spent the whole night thinking about the possibilities of why you would've kept his college shirt – Maybe it was an accident? What if she kept it to test my commitment in finding her and keeping my promise? – Javier had gone to the barn to help his father, but was tired and distracted. So much so, that he'd almost fallen out of the hayloft because he wasn't paying attention to where he was stepping.

Luckily, he'd grabbed the support beam and hooked the heels of his work boots in before he tumbled down.

Chucho had only caught on to it because Javi had gritted out a tense curse before muttering slurs to himself all the way down the ladder. Having had enough of his son ruminating his way into a possible fatal accident on the ranch, he'd called him over and sternly told him what he'd planned on telling him before he'd rushed upstairs with the box the night prior.

"All right. You got back from Colombia without a peep, and I didn't press for answers then. You've been moping around until yesterday morning when you ran out like a bat out of hell to who knows where and came back with that weight off your shoulders. And then the box—"

"Pop, I know. You've been so patient, and understanding, having to put up with me. But, I just…" Javier groused before huffing and sitting down on a hay bale, hands scrubbing tiredly across his tense features. "I went down there. She was already gone. I didn't know what to do. The people I spoke to didn't have her current contact information, and now, after last night? I'm regretting not doing more."

"What else could you have done, mijo?" Chucho had asked with genuine sympathy as he wrung his work gloves absently while Javi propped his elbows at the top of his knees and worried his hands across his stubble-covered cheeks. "It sounds like she left and didn't intend for anyone to know where to—"

"It's my fault she left," Javi stated and looked up at his father. "Everything I was dealing with – all the political bullshit and sabotaging, it started to affect her. She's a private person, and we went through so much trouble to keep our relationship and work separate. But then, it started to bleed over…"

He went on to tell his father about what happened in Medellín. Of how responsible he felt that you became a target for reprisals from Stechner and the cartel. Explained how guilty you felt about it having been too much of a stress on your grandmother. He even told him about what happened at the funeral – how your life in Colombia had become just him and your work. And how his departure had seemingly caused a chain reaction of events that led to you quitting whilst taking down the CIA station chief for what he'd done to you both.

"…I should've gone to Medellín. If I'd gone to talk to her family there, maybe…" Javier had sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration while smacking his palm down on his thigh before pulling himself up to stand. "I don't even know if it would've mattered—"

Chucho clapped a firm hand onto his shoulder and shook him. "Javier, you can't go on beating yourself up. Everything happens for a reason," his father assured, and added assertively, "Punishing yourself is not going to change what's happened, so if you want to do something about things now, then go on and do it."

Pensively, Javi took his words to heart, and spent the rest of the day thinking on what he could do. An idea came to him when he was washing the dishes after dinner that night. Once he was back in his bedroom, he dug through his boxes for his worn, pocket-sized address book, and then rushed back down the stairs to the phone.

He dialed the number listed for the contact, and held his breath.

The long-distance call ended with a dial tone alerting that the number couldn't be reached. Annoyed, Javier had flipped through pages to find Trujillo's contact information next.

After a few rings, the CNP officer answered.

"—Damn, Peñita! Nice to hear that you're alive," the jovial man had hazed.

"Yeah, haven't been knocked off yet. Listen, sorry to call out of the blue like this, but I was hoping you could do me a favor…"

He'd asked the man if he'd heard from you. Trujillo had explained how he'd helped you with the statement and on-the-record attestation of what happened, but that he hadn't heard from you since. Javier told him he'd tried calling the Medellín house number, but that it seemed to be disconnected. Agreeing to go by and see, Trujillo had called him at the end of the day with the news.

"—Sorry, Peñita. The front gate was locked. One of the neighbors came out and said they were away on a trip. Said it was a belated honeymoon getaway – that they flew out for the holidays. They didn't have a contact number, but said they were supposed to come back after the new year."

Discouraged, Javier had thanked the man before saying his farewell and hanging up.

His father had been in the living room, reading the evening paper while sat in his recliner, when he came in from the kitchen and sat heavily on the couch.

"Son. Maybe it's time to not carry this torch any longer?" Chucho had delicately suggested once he folded the paper down and seen how sulky Javi was. Said sulky expression hardened into a glower at his words, so he pressed, "I mean...she did send your things here. Was there a note? If she wanted you to reach out to her, wouldn't she have written down a way to reach her?"

Frowning, Javi had blurted, "No, but my shirt is gone."

Thick brows furrowing in confusion, his father leaned forward to drawl, "Your…shirt?"

Feeling like a daft fool for saying it out loud, Javier's hands fidgeted as he tried to explain, "She sent all my things, except for my shirt – my old gray college shirt. The one with the school emblem on the front. I just, I don't know…I just can't help thinking it means something. That she kept it…Jesus Christ, I sound like a moron—"

"Mijo."

Looking over at his father and seeing his wry smirk, Javi huffed and sunk heavily into the back of the sofa's cushion, waiting for the inevitable sage wisdom he was about to hear.

"She sounds like a spirited, confident woman who is deliberate about her choices. If you think she kept it? Well, maybe she had a reason to. But until you get to ask her yourself? Best to not twist yourself up over it."

Well…shit.

Javier couldn't find fault in that argument. So, he didn't, and thanks to it, he was able to get his head on straight and focus on what was before him, for the time being.

Aside from sexually starving himself while living back at home in his childhood bedroom, overall, Javier had gotten used to life back on the ranch, and since his trip to the DEA field office, he nor his father had seen another smuggler ferrying up the waters that skirted their property since. It was a small victory he'd needed, and had sent a message all the way back to D.C. So much so, that while Spencer had ceased "checking in" on him, he'd still have junior agents periodically call the house and try to pitch him on certain leadership opportunities opening up in the agency throughout the most sought-after zones for being stationed.

Every time, he'd thank the rookie and just hang up.

Really, the only thing that still hung on him like a weight he couldn't get free of, was his guilt and regret about how terribly things ended with you.

Heart heavy, he'd poured his anger into the pit in his gut – used it to fuel other parts of him that he needed to get him through the hard days.

But, at night…the longing was his mistress. It was never far away, no matter how much he tried to get away from it.

Before long, though, things had stabilized for him. He'd taken to splitting up his time working on the ranch with his father, and after being cajoled by Manny to listen in on a few task force meetings between the Sheriff's department and Border Patrol, Javier had gotten roped into being a consultant for the department. It fed his need for feeling useful, and kept him sharp, as well as helped him keep an eye on the stepped-up enforcement in the region.

It also helped him find a space for himself to be back in Laredo, and to let himself fit in, especially when it came to leaving the trauma of Colombia behind to ground himself in the normal routine of stress-free living. Old habits were able to be set aside for older pursuits, like being social with his buddies and being cajoled into best friend and best man duties.

Still, though, the longing always waited for him; for the right moment to wrap its arms tight and tow him back.

The day of Manny's wedding had been an apt occasion for it to ensnare around him.

He'd woken up early to get his morning run in before he'd be back to help his father with the feed and shoveling the stalls in the stable clean, but found himself staring up at the ceiling in the still dark before dawn, ignoring his cock throbbing for him to take the edge off.

Grumpily, Javi had tossed the covers off of himself and padded out of his bedroom into the bathroom adjacent out in the upstairs hall. The cold shower woke him up further, as did the chore of relieving his sexual desire.

Sure, this wasn't new, and he was always horny, but he'd made the mistake of watching that damned movie the night before – which only exacerbated his longing, and it had made his mind run amuck with salacious filth. He'd jacked off like a goddamned hard-up teen to the fantasies the movie had bloomed in his mind's eye, and even afterwards, he burned with desire to make those fantasies reality.

Could anyone really blame him? It'd been months since he'd had sex with anyone, and no matter how much he'd tried to ignore his yearning – to find other distractions, he'd end up with a foggy brain. He'd striven to keep the lust at bay – to turn it into drive for other things.

But when he'd seen the Body Heat cover jacket in the rental store, he couldn't pass up the chance to watch the movie that had made such an impression on you. And then he couldn't stop from clearing his foggy thoughts with the debauchery of his fantasies, all starring you, wearing that hot dress and begging him to fuck you the way Kathleen Turner did.

He was paying for it now.

The routine of jerking off until he spilled in his hand and let the mess swirl down the drain with the rest of his soap suds was not his favorite, but it was a necessary evil for the busy day he had ahead of him.

As he pulls on his gym sweats, his mind reconstructed the dream he'd had of you. He made himself shake his head to loosen the hold of the emotion cresting up in him when he pictured you across the mezzanine, looking so scared.

Most nights, he would fall asleep thinking about you, and when he'd roll over and reach for you across the bed, the panic that would drift across his unconscious would kick him awake. He'd struggle to settle his wired mind and remind himself.

You're home. She's not here.

When he'd just toss and turn, the comfort he'd always seek would be to pull the photos from the clay knick-knack box set on his nightstand. Under the dim moonlight that would come through his windows, he'd gaze at your picture and reminisce about all the amazing, wonderful times you both shared.

And on nights he was surly or wound up, yearning for your naked curves to be snuggled up against him – for your alluring scent and the heat it flooded through his bloodstream, he'd retrieve the panties from the gap between the mattress and box spring.

Reminded to grab the trash bag out of the wastebasket and chuck it in the can outside while on his way to his truck, Javi made a note of needing to stop at the drugstore on his way back as he opened the driver door of the truck and tossed in his gym bag.

Twenty minutes later, he was pulling into a spot in front of the track field to meet Manny. He'd skipped shaving, so his features were covered in dark growth, minus the few errant patches in his beard, as he scrubbed his hand idly over his jaw before stifling a yawn into his palm as he climbed out of the truck with his gym bag to greet his buddy who was already stretching next to his blue Bronco.

The man was jittery with nerves, but overall excited for the impending nuptials, so they'd made their way to the well-worn track field behind their old high school and got their run in.

Since they'd started the ritual – well, more like since Manny had hounded Javier to join him on his runs months prior – he'd noticed his stamina had vastly improved, and it would take several laps now before he got winded. It also helped that he'd quit smoking and drinking. Well, drinking as much as he'd used to, anyway.

The cigarette cravings had waned in severity over time thanks to the occasional nicotine gum fix, but really, all his unhealthy habits had been discarded – the impulsive gratification that each of his vices had once given him substituted for the gains he'd get in redirecting his cravings into other things.

Working out had never been his favorite thing to do, but Manny had coerced him into the YMCA for some weights and 20-minute punching bag workouts on days they couldn't make it out to the track. It had all become a better way to decompress and expend his destructive energy and curb his tempestuous desires – scratched the itch and helped him get the high he used to get from sex with the endorphins that would rush through him after a hearty workout. And, he'd grown to look forward to the cathartic release and mellow calm that would come over him after.

Sure, Manny hazing him about getting a little soft in his middle from no longer being an active field agent when he was down in Colombia did not hurt in spurring his motivation to work at it.

"Whew! I needed this run, hermano," Manny is exhaling jovially as he sits at the bottom of the bleacher and catches his breath.

"Needed the practice in case you decide to book it later, you mean?" Javi quips as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his ratty gym towel before grabbing his water bottle, snorting when Manny shoved him with an irreverent scoff.

"Coño, carnal, we both know the runaway groom is you, not me!" Manny drawled in his playful lamenting singsong before snickering, "At least you'll fit in your spiffy suit, pendejo."

Javier laughed out. "Alright, fresa, I'll pick your ass up later," is his deriding chuckle as he grabbed his keys out of the duffle and waved while heading for the parking lot.

"Don't be late!"

Javier is ten minutes early when his father drops him off in front of Manny's folks' place, having agreed to be the designated driver for his rowdy younger brothers, post-reception. He was already dressed in the light gray suit he'd sprung for to spruce up his tired wardrobe, tie and pocket square matching with the rest of the groomsmen, clean-shaven and moustache trimmed while his hair was a bit longer from skipping trips to the barbershop since he'd gotten back to Laredo.

When he entered the house, he found everyone in a state of rushing about, clearly not nearly ready as they should be in order to be at the church on-time.

"Manny! Javi llegó and we're gonna go ahead to the church so Heidi and her family don't think you're skipping out of town," his mother calls out as she simultaneously kisses Javi on the cheek. She shoots him a referential wink too that has Javi pouting amusedly at the veiled reminder of the last man who skipped out of town on his wedding day. "Ah, pobrecito," she chuckles and pats his shoulder as she herds her young daughters and husband out the door. They each greet him in turn, while Manny's mom barks over the sound of the boys roughhousing in the hall, "You boys get it together already!"

"Make sure these knuckleheads don't come in like braying dogs to the church, would you, Javier?" the patriarch of the Miranda clan amusedly remarked as he pulled on his blazer and fiddled with the pocket square.

"Sure thing, sir," Javi chuckles and gives a curt nod when the man ushers the two young girls out to the porch.

Annoyed that no one had acknowledged her last command, Mama Miranda thunders, "John Emanuel Miranda, Michael Samuel Miranda, Thomas Mateo Miranda, Lucas Andrés Miranda – did you hear me?! You better be ready—"

"Ay, mami, we are!" Manny's youngest brother complained back as he ran around them to be the first boy on the porch. "I call shotgun!"

"You go in the back seat, Andrés! Your brother Manny goes in the front with Javi," his mother admonishes as she grabs the keys from the hook and shouts once more, "Hurry up! You're going to be late to your own wedding, Emanuel!"

"I won't, Ma!"

Javi chuckles as he spectates the whirlwind of a family of eight trying to get out the door.

"Carnal, you know how to put this shit on?" Manny was fussing with the cufflinks when Javier lopes over. "Pinche madre, these stupid things—"

He takes them and helps him get them through the fancy cuffs of his crisp dress shirt. Then, he smoothens out the shoulders of his light gray blazer before flicking his silky blue pocket square.

"You look like a real snob, dressed all fancy—" Javi begins to sardonically drawl.

With a mocking scoff, Manny counters, "Hey, I'm trying to impress the in-laws, considering most of them know me as the messenger they wanted to kill when you didn't show up to the chapel the last time—"

"Dude, we gotta go or Ma is gonna kick our asses, so let's go, pendejos!" Matty orders and starts clapping his hands impatiently as he barks, "Let's fucking gooooo!"

Wrangling them all into the Bronco is a feat.

They managed to make it to the church just in time to get filed in and be fussed over by their mother, who straightened collars, slicked back wayward whisps of hair, and hissed at them to behave while the little sisters giggled at their expense and were waiting for her to be done with them so they could sit on the groom's side of the aisle with their father.

Javi took that opportunity to look across the pews, glad to see the place was packed, filled with familiar faces who all seemed excited for the couple. He noticed his father was sitting with his aunt and cousins on the groom's side. He was dressed in his best, hat off and resting on his right knee as he sat semi-sidelong in order to chat with a woman he didn't recognize.

"Who's that?" he asks Manny after tapping his arm with the back of his hand and pointing with his chin.

"Ah, that's Father Benito's younger sister. Remember I told you he was retiring? This'll be the last ceremony he officiates," Manny explains as he nudges Javi to look over by where the organist was. "And that dude? He's gonna be the new Padre. He look familiar?"

Javier squints to make out the tall, muscularly lean man talking to Gladys. Wearing the black shirt and trousers not dissimilar to Father Benito's, but sans the priest collar, he had his hair swept back from his clean-shaven features. Slowly, his mind pictures the man in a blue-and-white varsity jacket, white t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and red Chuck Taylor sneakers. Incredulous, he rumbles, "Wait…is that Gabriel Santiago?"

"Yep! Father Gabriel," Manny chimed before remarking, "Ain't that a trip? He went from captain of the football team to Catholic missionary, and now he's gonna be La Inmaculada's priest!"

"Wow…" Javier balks, elbowing his friend lightly as he snickers, "You're gonna have to give confession to him—"

Scoffing, Manny deadpans wryly, "Dude, it's weird enough to think about my mom telling him her sins. I don't need to think about all the stuff I'm gonna have to omit to him—"

"All right, everyone! Pair up and get ready for the procession," Miss Carmen, the resident Church Lady and boss of these kind of things, orders as she helps everyone link up with their intended escort down the aisle.

Once they're all ready to march down to their places at the altar, Manny looks the most nervous he's been, so Javi put his hand on his shoulder and gives it an irreverent squeeze.

"You ready, hermano?"

Manny sheepishly smiles before nodding and murmuring, "Yeah, I am."

The jitters were gone the minute Heidi appeared once the wedding march music began. Javi watched his best friend look in awe as she walked down, escorted by her father, to the classic procession song played by the organist all the while the snap of cameras echoed in the spacious church.

He could feel the infectious glee from his friend, unable not to smile when they exchanged vows before the priest proclaimed them man and wife.

It wasn't until the wedding reception at Heidi's parent's house, out in their sprawling backward that's decorated with twinkling string lights, with a dance floor in the center of the circumference of big round tables, and the long bridal party table across from the makeshift bar he'd been standing at, that he realized it.

This could've been you.

Huffing, he'd had the first of his three-drink-maximum and watched everyone mingle merrily around the happy couple. Eventually, when the reception was in full swing, the fellas gathering around to razz Manny and shoot the breeze lifted his spirits and managed to block out the melancholy of being stag. Of being smack dab in a happy ceremony not unlike the last one he'd been at with you.

He'd been glancing over to see his father pleasantly talking to the woman he'd seen him conversing with at the church when a hand clapped good-naturedly down on his back.

"—Dude, you check out the bridesmaids? That redhead is killin' me," Dave conspiratorially grouses over at Javi.

"Hm? Nah, I'm on drunk-wranglin' duty for the night," he retorts and nurses his whiskey, raising his brows when Dave snorts brashly at him. "What?"

"Just 'cause the entire Walton clan's here, doesn't mean you can't take a girl home for the night, man," Dave jibes, elbowing Ted to get him to concur. "Amirite?"

"I mean, Lorraine is right over there. I'd hazard to say it'd be fuckin' awkward, bud," Ted drawls in his thick twang, always one to state the obvious.

"So?!" Dave counters, and Javi just shakes his head and looks around for a lifeline. "There are good-looking single gals, and his dumb ass is gonna just stand here sipping his drink like a lonesome ass choirboy 'cause his ex from a hundred years ago is here—?"

"Fuck off, Dave," is Javi's dry retort as he now had to school himself not to look in Lorraine's direction.

After all, it was bad enough they were both at a wedding reception not unlike the one they'd planned on having a decade prior, but the fact he was the best man to the groom who'd just married her cousin after having been the one to cover for Javi when he'd gotten cold feet was not a charming factoid he wanted to take pride in.

"Ah, what're you huevones talking about?" Manny sidled up to the bar with the fellas, having finally pried himself away from his latest mingling marathon with Heidi.

"Just giving Javi shit, per usual," Dave retorts before leaning over to mutter covertly, "Hook a brother up with that cute redhead friend of Heidi's, would yah? I mean, since this guy wants to be a baby angel these days—"

"What're you pig fuckers whispering about?!" Rich brashly exclaims as he suddenly appears on Ted's left side, clearly already toasted.

"Christ Almighty, Rich!" his wife, Jaime, shouted admonishingly at him from the table he'd been sitting at. "Watch your mouth!"

"Sorry!" he called back before whispering, "Now, seriously, what you bitches talkin' bout?"

Javier preemptively elbows Dave in the side, knowing the man's penchant for retorting, 'Your sister,' as a comeback, and thankfully he took the hint.

"Nothing. This one wants to get set up with one of the bridesmaids," Javi answers neutrally as he fans his gaze across the party.

Unlike the other guys, Manny knew why Javier wasn't interested in flirting anyone up, let alone going home with any of the bachelorettes among Heidi's group of friends.

"Alright, everyone, dinner's served!" the maid of honor called out to the crowd, and everyone made their ways to take a seat.

Eventually, it was about that time for the speeches, and as the best man, Javier made his way to the makeshift stage housing the music entertainment for the event, set up on the side from the bridal party's table.

He regales the reception filled with friends and family of the happy couple with the story of how Manny had asked him to introduce him to Heidi, back at a spring fling dance in high school.

"He pointed her out across the gym, and asked, 'What's her name. She's so pretty.' I'd told him, 'Oh, that's Heidi,' and he just looked at me with the most confused, helpless look, and went, 'Hai-what?!'"

Everyone chuckled warmly, while Manny shook his head and grinned.

"After some practice on enunciating her name, he managed to go over and ask her to dance. And for some reason, she said yes," Javi quips, earning a round of laughs from the boys and razzing catcalls from Manny's brothers over the din of the crowd. "I'm glad for it. You two make love look easy, so I raise my glass to you and wish you both all the happiness in the world. To Manny and Heidi," is the conclusion of his toast as he raises his glass for the crowd to collectively cheers the couple.

It's during the maid of honor's speech, when he was picturing you dancing around in that sexy dress you'd worn to your prima's wedding, that his and Lorraine's gazes catch each other, and the unbothered way she smiles at him before glancing back at the cute redhead currently wishing the couple all the best makes Javi feel both off the hook and out of place.

She could've been here with you.

After the toasts, Javi did a lot of people-watching. He noticed his father was in rapt conversation with the people at his table, so he made his way back to the bar for his second drink of the night, having woven through the dancing, socializing attendees to park at the corner and ask for another whiskey.

"Psst! Incomin', Jav," Ted warns from the other corner of the bar.

His brow furrows before he follows the way his friend slid his gaze out to the dance floor.

"Well, fancy meeting you here," Tina practically purrs as she comes over to lean against the bar, glossy pink lips smiling and lashes batting at Javier while she fluffed her curly mane over one shoulder. She was wearing a low-cut, short lavender dress with white daisies printed on it, and she pushed her cleavage to flaunt her perky bosom as she silkily drawls, "How yah been, Javi? You didn't come say hello."

He internally curses.

"Well, we're saying hello now," he evenly counters before sipping his whiskey.

"Aww, c'mon, you gonna be like that?" Tina teases as she sidles closer. "I'll have what he's having," she tells the bartender without even giving the man a cursory look, too busy giving Javi her sultriest stare before pursing her lips and whispering, "You look all on your lonesome. Richie said you're playing the designated driver?"

"Yep," is his aloof retort as he fanned his gaze over for any kind of reprieve – some sort of excuse to get the hell out of this conversation with her. "Speaking of which, I should go check on Manny's brothers—"

"Why you always gotta play hard to get with me?" Tina sighs, not interested in feigning any longer as she gives him a doe-eyed look after downing her whiskey in one shot. "We had fun, so let's have fun again tonight," is her proposition as she caresses her hand up his forearm.

Javi can feel all the busy-body eyes watching on all around them, and with a sharp look over at the table Rich is at, he mutters, "I'm busy tonight, Tina."

"You? C'mon, Jav. We both know you're never too busy to fit in a good fuck," she chimes brazenly, and Javier's mortification burns a flush up his neck when he sees Ted's jaw drop from his eavesdropping vantage point.

In a flat grumble, he insists, "I am busy—"

With daring charm, Tina tosses her girlish curls back over her shoulder before murmuring, "You can put the good boy act aside for tonight and come over to my place, where you can be as bad as you want—"

"Tina!" Manny appears, clearly toasty from all the champagne his brothers were taking turns overpouring in his glass, and smiling as he boisterously patted the bar top, making a funny face at her before noticing how annoyed Javier looked. "Am I interrupting—?"

"Nope—"

"Yep, yah are, but I love you Manny, so help me out here and tell Javi he's being such a stick in da mud," Tina accuses haughtily. "He's single, I'm single—"

"Technically you're separated, no?" Manny cut in knowingly.

"Same thing!" she's huffing before putting a hand at her hip to scathe, "He's over here making me pull teeth, when we could be going somewhere and having a repeat of the rumpus room—"

"Jesus Christ, Tina – it ain't happening," Javier finally snaps curtly.

She turns on him and narrows her doe-eyes with cunning, the way a cat would when it's cornered its prey. "Oh? You really are cute when you get all huffy," was her drawled musing as she practically slinked up against him to murmur alluringly, "But I know how you are when you're all surly, baby. Only way to remedy it is to go somewhere, get me out of this lil' dress, and have your way with me. You can't turn something that good down."

Manny and Ted exchange looks of awe at how shameless she's being, and just as she began to smile triumphantly at them for getting them nonplussed, Javier pointedly slid his empty glass across the bar top and shifts away dismissively from her before sneering flippantly, "Yeah? Watch me."

Gob smacked, she watches him pat Manny on the back and exit to march over to the table Rich and Jaime were in order to mutter in the dirty blonde's ear something before going off to sit with his family for the rest of the night until it was time to collect the Miranda boys and drive them home.

"Really, Tina?!" Jaime shouted over at her sister-in-law. "Come sit down before you make a fool out of yourself some more!"

Turning red with consternation, the haughty woman scoffed and stomped away, shoving past Dave as she huffed and puffed to go sit on the patio in a snit.

"What the—what I miss?" Dave deadpans to Manny and Ted – having just returned from getting the redhead's number – while Jaime declared snippily to Rich that it was time for all of them to call it a night.

Once Javier had dropped off the boys at the Miranda's ranch, he'd jumped into the pickup with his father once the elder Peña had pulled up after pit-stopping at his aunt's in the meantime.

"That was a nice wedding," his father had remarked over the Country song playing on the radio, as he drove.

"Yeah," is Javi's terse mutter. He'd crossed his arms to keep his hands from fidgeting or his fingers from thrumming impulsively despite himself. With a sidelong glance, he found himself remarking, "You were talking to that lady for a while."

"Hmm?" his father aloofly grunts, as if he didn't hear the curiosity in his son's tone.

"Manny said she was Father Benito's sister?" he queries, gaze narrowing when his father raised his brows neutrally. "Didn't catch her name."

"Idalia Suarez. Very nice lady," Chucho retorts, spectacles slipping down his nose before he adjusts them. "She's helping the Padre move out of the rectory."

A lull in conversation fell between them as Chucho turned onto the road that led home.

"Lorraine came by our table and said hello," is his father's idle remark.

"That's nice," Javi sighs tiredly, head turned to watch the night zoom past the passenger window.

Humming, Chucho remarks, "It's funny, how small the world is, that Manny and Heidi were on the separate factions and still made it work."

"Jeez, Pop, remind me of what a bastard I was some more, why don't yah," Javier grumbles, finally unfurling from his tense cross-armed funk to tug the knot of his tie loose while he rubbed at his temples testily.

"The only one who thinks that is you, Javier. No one else is harboring a grudge, so it's high time you let it go yourself, sabes?" is his father's earnest barb, frowning now.

Sulkily, Javi went silent, propping his cheek against his fist and leaning moodily into the side of the door all the way home.

Yeah, sure…still a bastard in other ways, though…

***

It was an interesting day for you.

One you hadn't anticipated, and were now floundering to rationalize why you felt so detached and out of sorts regarding it.

The time around the holidays had been both hectic and disarming, filled with late nights working up until all the government workers went on their long Christmas vacations that would last through Three Kings Day. Your father had surprised you by inviting your family from Medellín for a honeymoon/holiday trip to the island, and you'd spent as much time as you could showing them the sights and spending quality time with everyone before they flew back to Colombia a few days after New Year's.

New Year's Eve had been spent throwing a party and hosting Sasha at your place, and unsurprisingly hanging out with Marc, who'd been home for the holidays. The two made a cute couple, and no matter how huffy Sasha would get when you teased him after, he wouldn't deny he was really into Marc. So much so, that when it was time for him to leave, he'd flown back to Miami with Marc, and assured you he'd be back for a longer visit soon.

While it'd been fun to have the wonderful distractions, you did feel like there was still a lot for you to unpack from a personal standpoint, regarding your new normal.

You still felt like you were getting your bearings again – being in a director position. But aside from that, there was the juggling of your personal expectations in regards to needing to seamlessly settle back into a life of hustling and bustling on the island. Not to mention the tightrope-style relationship you were trying to keep copacetic between you and your father.

Really, if it weren't for Ellis and Anita, you're sure you would've spent the bulk of your free time being an antisocial Hun in your apartment more than you'd already been.

They'd both settled into life in Puerto Rico splendidly. Ellis loved his job, and was over the moon being a new father. Anita was thankful to have a small village helping her balance going back to teaching and new mommy life, and you were ecstatic about being the surrogate tía to the precious baby girl.

Little Delilah Rose was the most obnoxiously cutest baby you've ever seen. She had Ellis' eyes, Anita's facial features, and her father's silly smile, but frowned just like her mother when she was cranky. She had so much personality for only being a couple months old, and you delighted in playing peek-a-boo with her while Ellis ran around tending to the house and Anita got a nap break. Anita's parents lived with them – their charming house having a convenient in-law unit in the back that made it oh-so-convenient for grandma and grandpa to relieve the exhausted parents when it was time to go back to work.

While Anita was teaching English at an elite private school in El Condado, you and Ellis were both working at the Federal Building adjacent the main U.S. Federal courthouse on the island. He was the head of the Telecommunications department, and you were overseeing all Digital Information Operations across federal agencies stationed in the U.S. territory. The Department of State wanted a bigger footprint in the region, and had expanded their workforce in the U.S. territory to help facilitate that.

The job offer had been too good to pass up, and while you'd had serious reservations about going back to work for the federal government, you'd risen to the opportunity to work virtually independently – to build the team and run the operations as you saw fit. There was no ambassador to report to, and you had carte blanche to set policies and procedures for the level of efficiency you deemed – to set the standard of efficacy rather than adhere to dated expectations.

Ironically, your role was so versatile that you'd ended up being invited to a lot of local government functions to liaison for other federal officials, and with the new administration being so pro-statehood, you'd felt encouraged to do more local outreach when staffing your department, as well as to represent the positive programs and initiatives the Federal office was partnering on throughout the island.

That morning, one such a partnership, facilitated by your next-door neighbor and TV anchor, Jodalys Rivera, led to you sitting on the soundstage in the WAPA-TV studios with her during her morning news show's segment. The stage lights had been bright and made you feel like a bug under a heat lamp, but you'd mustered the confidence and poise to chat with her about the computer science recruitment program the Federal office was sponsoring in local public schools around the island.

The segment aired right before the highly-rated afternoon variety show hour, so you assumed it would be a great opportunity to spread awareness of the program.

What you didn't know was just who'd been intently watching you on the segment, from the comfort of his bed in his ritzy beach house.

The remnants of the playboy shindig from the night prior were strewn about the room or stretched out on the divan, sound asleep, all while the smoke from his joint curled up to the ceiling. He didn't pay any of it any mind. Not when his attention was rapt to the television in the built-in entertainment center across from where he was lounging – back against the headboard while the black silk sheet clung to his waist.

His green eyes had been intently fixated on your TV smile and charming pitch to the camera before you'd turned to Jodalys and scrunched your nose cutely at her comment about needing more exceptional Puerto Rican women working in tech.

Later that day and after the interview was replayed in the early evening, Zoraida had called and crooned your praises before cajoling you to agree to come out that night for the big street festival in El Viejo San Juan.

It's where you're at now, begrudgingly putting up with the crush of the rowdy and convivial crowds while you wait for her to come back from working the room of admirers who'd recognized her when you'd both trekked into the wine bar. You figured it served you right for going out with a social butterfly – and former Miss Puerto Rico – like Zoraida Figueroa. She was one of your oldest friends, though, so you felt like you needed to make an effort and not be the antisocial hermit you'd preferred being since you'd moved back to the island. But it didn't mean your mind was going to stop wandering to other more important matters you needed to make time to sort.

You'd been thinking about the next changes you'd be implementing operationally back at the office when Zoraida had roused your attention back to the bar celebrating the bustling street fiestas she'd dragged you out to – placing the Cuba libre in front of you before she hitched her arm around your shoulders and shook you good-naturedly.

"Nena, quit spacing out thinking about work!" she playfully admonished. "You haven't been to Las Fiestas SanSe in ages, so I'm taking you on the bar crawl once you finish that drink—"

"Ugh, girl – I'm tired. Last thing I wanna do is go back into those crowded streets to chinchorrear!" you complain, but dutifully take a long pull of your drink.

"Oh, c'mon! Naida and Tayra said they'd meet us later at Los Trés Cuernos—"

"Really?! That place is a dive, Zory. I'm not in the mood for chichaítos—"

"Ay, you're such a buzzkill! And here I was hoping you having your TV moment would've pepped you up to have some fun tonight," your friend bemoans before finishing her vodka and cranberry. "Oh! We could go to that new club that overlooks El Malecón," she exclaims over the loud ambiance in the bar. "It's supposed to be the place to be now in Old San Juan—"

"Which means it'll be impossible to get into," you counter and waved it off as an option while you finish your drink.

"Eh, hello?! What you sayin', that I got no name recognition or something?" she scoffs and arches her eyebrow sassily.

Shaking your head ruefully, you relent, and end up meeting the other girls at the dive bar to catch up before heading as a clique up the bustling cobble-stoned streets to the hotspot.

La Galería Exodus was a three-story building with a rooftop cabana and bar that you could see was jumping from the street-level as you all walked across the narrow intersection to the corner where the velvet rope line was already queued up around all the way down the opposite block. The marquee was a neon sign kaleidoscope that flared a bewitching aura over the street, and the sexy script of the club's name stood out on the picturesque Spanish architecture that dominated the islet's buildings and thoroughfares.

You were dubious of the chance that even Zoraida would have the pull to jump the line – but before she even strutted up to the doorman, a guy wearing dark shades and a discerning frown had tapped the burly bouncer twice on the back of the shoulder.

"Damas, adelante," the man had greeted before shifting the barrier of the stanchion aside to let you all through.

You didn't think you were particularly dressed right for the club, but figured the chevron-patterned blue, silver and black cami dress and block heels you had on was just passing.

"See?! Told you," Zoraida confidently crows as she struts ahead into the eccentrically-lit foyer of the club.

After a few minutes wandering through the space, you understood why it was called 'The Gallery Exodus.' It was a lux series of bars, dance floors, booths and anterooms that felt like they melded from the underground club scene vibe into psychedelic tropical expanses with dancers behind glass vestibules that reminded you of the Amsterdam redlight district. The music and lighting shifted as you traversed the different levels, and so did the ambiance. One escape after another.

It was definitely unlike any club you'd been to, and after snagging drinks, your clique moves through the different levels to make your ways up to the rooftop.

As you go, you notice the glitterati of entertainment and media have made the trendy spot their new ground for mingling. Famous athletes, musicians, and late-night personalities are at home in the sea of gyrating beautiful people.

You feel so out of place.

By the time you got to the rooftop, the fresh, balmy air felt good, and while your friends queue up at the bar, you wander over to the veranda to look out at the Atlantic Ocean that resembles rolling dark velvet under the dim moonlight and the twinkling lights of the dwellings down in La Perla.

The music up here was cool, moody, and filled with synth, and your fingers idly tap the stem of your martini glass, following the beat to the beginning of a song you'd only heard a few times, but knew the band very well.

Words like violence Break the silence Come crashing in Into my little world Painful to me Pierce right through me Can't you understand? Oh, my little girl

Finishing the last sip of your drink and setting the glass aside on the long tavern-like counter angled in the corner next to the veranda, you turn to check on the girls over at the bar, when your eyes scan over a particular section of the cabana.

Your gaze landed on the figure of someone that stands out in your mind. At first you think it's because of how dapperly dressed he is, but then the way he slants his shoulders when his green-eyed stare lands on you?

No…it can't be.

Tensely, your eyes crinkle as your gaze remains on the well-dressed man in the satin shine onyx blazer, matching trousers, and midnight blue polo shirt, as he turned fully to face you head on.

All I ever wanted All I ever needed Is here in my arms Words are very unnecessary They can only do harm

He seems to have recognized you, and excused himself from the group orbiting him in order to lope over towards you, gin and tonic in his right hand while he slips his left into his tailored trouser pocket.

The wave of anxiety has stacked up quickly in you, feeling pinned to your spot and unable to cobble together a rational, well-adjusted reason to not just flee.

Stop acting like you've lost control.

Before you know it, he's standing tall and broad-shouldered in front of you, looking cool and sly as you remembered, but now his features look more rugged thanks to the trim goatee and neat sideburns accentuating his angular jaw.

"Well, I thought that was you, doncellita."

Adjusting the strap of your little purse higher on your bare shoulder, you smile impartially before tucking your undulating locks behind your ear from the breeze sifting across the rooftop.

"Roman," you greet neutrally, trying not to let the tension make you fidget under his piercing green gaze. "Funny to run into you here," is your glib quip, considering how you'd first met at a nightclub all those years ago.

"Hah, right? Guess we just gravitate to where the best time to be had always is," he croons in his tenor rhapsodic drawl, his smile coy before adding in a low murmur, "This is my place."

You're not surprised.

"Ah, that's nice," you retort, giving him a wan smile. "You always did want your own club—"

"Clubs," he corrects, snickering sardonically as he sidles up to you to lean against the banister of the veranda casually. "I own this place, and a few others. But my day job is running the empresa—"

You saw from the corner of your eye your friends finally get their drinks at the bar, and decided to segue out of whatever this conversation is with your ex. So, you cut in aloofly, "Glad to hear it. My friends are looking for me, and I'd hate for you to neglect yours, so have a good night, Roman—"

"C'mon, chavalita, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Roman assures with sincerity in his tone, thick brows lamenting as he confesses, "I know it wasn't the best of circumstances when we parted ways, but I want you to know how sorry I am – that I was a complete bastard for how I was then. And, that there's no hard feelings—"

"Oh, is that a fact," you sarcastically zing.

"I was going to say, no hard feelings on my end, lengüetera," he wryly continues, lips quirking in that charmingly endearing way you remember, his eyes crinkling as he swept his thick, tapered fingers through his hair after a particular breeze gusted his dark locks to fan across his forehead. "But, yeah, I totally deserve your skepticism."

That softens you, and you relax in your stance. "That was a long time ago, so, no use in holding grudges," is your mellow retort before mustering a one-shouldered, shrug. "Anyway, I won't keep you—"

"You're not, but I get it, clavelina," is his tenor purr before he turns to see your friends had spotted you both chatting, so he set his drink aside on the taberna counter with your empty glass in order to rest his hand on the banister as he conspiratorially leaned in and petitions, "I don't want to overstep, but would you ever be open to talking again? I mean, somewhere more chill than this? I'd like to do lunch, o sentarnos pa' café – anything you'd like."

Part of you warred with how vehemently to tell him off, but a small, insecure feeling countered that. I mean…you were just as guilty for how bad it all got. You can't just make him the villain. People change—

"Look, no pressure, miramelinda," Roman relents, demeanor easygoing as he shrugs and smiles before pulling a sleek, engraved card from his pocket and offering it while he remarks, "I'll be away on business for a while, but maybe when I get back, we can grab a drink and catch up?"

Against the grudge-holding, better judgement-having part of you, a cool nod of your head precedes you accepting his business card.

"It was great seeing you," is his charming, soporific drawl, green eyes holding yours as he collected his drink, but then someone called his name, so he turned and gestured he was on his way back before he offers coolly, "Disfruta las fiestas, cielito."

After he loped off coolly to rejoin the orbit of the people at the cabana, you wander back to the girls, who were in varying states of befuddled confusion before Zoraida announced, "Nos vamos."

Naida and Tayra exchange looks before agreeing, and soon you were all trekking out of the club and down the intersection en route for the main traffic artery of the islet to head for a late night kiosko to nosh.

"—Well, I know some of his buddies. A lot of people say he really changed after his mother passed away. His father retired suddenly, so he took over running the firm, and rumor is he travels to Spain and Miami a lot for work, but he has tons of properties around the island," Tayra Cruz, who works as a print-ad buyer for all the big publications on the island, tells you as you all clambered out of the taxi.

"Who cares? Tiene cojones – to walk up to her like nothing," Naida Neruda, who works in real estate and interior design, was sneering while you all queued up to order your late-night sandwiches and frituras.

"I mean…we were in his club, so," you remark as you dig in your purse for your cash.

"I'm sorry, nena. I had no idea he owned it. If I'd known, I would've pushed to go somewhere else—" Zoraida begins to lament as she paid for your food and hers, which had you scoffing. "Mira, least I can do is treat you after that."

Snickering, you agreed, then follow the girls to sit at the patio table to eat and decompress from the night before you'd all part ways.

Half hour later, when you and Zoraida pulled up in the cab to the front of your condo building, she apologized again, so you wave her off and muse, "Hey, people change. The Roman from back then would've done everything to get a rise out of me. He did seem different—"

"You're not thinking of calling him, are you?!" Zoraida queries sharply.

"Of course not!" you assure before kissing her cheek and shimmying across the seat to exit the taxi. "Anyway, te llamo después," is your parting promise as you say goodnight and head up to your fourth-floor apartment.

Once inside your apartment, you toss your purse aside and go shower, not giving the night any more thought.

Or, at least, you'd intended not to think about it, but of course, your mind was the ultimate saboteur, and you end up dreaming of speeding down a dark highway, with only the green kilometer markers flying by as the drone of the beat from Duran Duran's "Girls on Film" echoes in the mist that fills the interior of the sportscar you're trapped in.

***

He'd been pensive the entire workout, giving only a few one-word answers whenever Manny said something to him in between sets.

It wasn't until his best friend paused in spotting him while he was at the bench press that his faraway gaze cleared enough to notice the glower he was getting.

"Earth to Javi," is his deadpan as he puts his hands on his hips. "I asked how much you want me to add to the barbell, and you said, 'Sure'."

"Fuck…sorry. Just was thinking about something," Javi sighs and sits up on the bench to wipe at his sweaty forehead.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should take a break, hermano," Manny suggests as he nudges Javi's shoulder and gestures for him to go sit in the cool down section. "I'll take care of the equipment."

Nodding, Javi got up from the bench and wandered over to where the water fountain was while Manny sprayed down everything and wiped it clean for the next users.

While Javi drank greedily from the fountain, he didn't notice when someone approached to sit on a nearby bench to tie their shoelace. When he turned and went to stretch his tired muscles by reaching his arms above his head before rolling the tension from his shoulders, he and the other gymgoer locked eyes and ended up staring. Recognition didn't hit him as quickly as it did the other man, who smiled broadly at him.

"Javier Peña, right?"

Squinting, Javi nodded before it finally dawned on him. "Oh, shit, hey Gabriel—sorry, I mean, Father Gabriel—" Javi was fumbling as he absently slicked his hair back from sticking to his forehead, pausing to correct, "Uh, do I call you Padre instead?"

"Hah, Gabriel is fine!" is his chuckled assurance as he stands and shakes hands with Javi. "How've yah been?"

"Good. How about you?" Javi politely carries on conversationally, secretly hoping Manny will come save him and give him an excuse to segue away.

"I've been great! Finally settled in at the church. Really enjoying getting to know everyone in the congregation," Gabriel jovially remarks as he scoots to sit on the end of the bench in order to offer Javi a seat. "I've had great conversation with you dad. Glad to hear everything's going well on the ranch. You've been busy consulting with the sheriff's office?"

When Javi glances over his shoulder and doesn't spot Manny anywhere nearby, unaware the man has scampered off to the restroom, he decides it would be rude not to sit and chat. So, he takes a seat at the other end of the bench as he rubs the tension out of the back of his neck.

"Uh, yeah. Just on task force stuff. I have a lot of experience with that," Javi retorts, eyes darting around looking for a clock so he could point out the time and use it as an excuse to mosey off.

"Yeah, I heard you joined the DEA. That you just came back from Colombia," Gabriel remarks, adding sardonically, "And yeah, the stream from the rumor mill in town even makes it to the church, but I won't bug you about that stuff."

Snorting and shooting him a sidelong glance, Javi mutters sarcastically, "Oh, great. I can only imagine what the church tías think about me, Padre."

Chuckling at that, Gabriel shrugs good-naturedly. "Nothing any worse than what they used to whisper about me, back in the day," is his irreverent quip. At Javier's humored grunt, Gabriel queries, "I hope that's not enough to keep you from coming to mass."

There it is.

"No, it's general indifference. It started being a pretty empty ritual – going to church. Haven't bothered with it," Javi flippantly remarks as he leans back against the cement wall and crosses his arms.

Not taking any umbrage, Gabriel twists his lips musingly and nods. "I guess that's fair, for someone who's been through what you have," is his thoughtful retort.

Javier's shoulders wind back and his jaw ticks tight.

"Like I said – the rumor mill," Gabriel shrugs. "But look, I get it. Having a priest not so much older than you, trying to 'be your shepherd'? To entice you back to Sunday mass? That's gotta be weird—"

"I mean, it's more that said priest used to be the mack-daddy of my high school and just so happened to take someone I dated to formal after she turned me down, that makes it a little weird. But sure, being cajoled into something I haven't done since…well, in a while, doesn't really make me warm and fuzzy," Javier derides with snarky attitude as he finally looks around again and spots Manny preparing to do some pullups. "Anyway—"

"Don't hold my ol' ladies' man ways against me being your priest, now," Gabriel jokes, halting Javi in his storm off. "And, word is, you and Lorraine weren't really destined to end up together anyway."

Javi scoffs contrivedly, "Wow. Low blow, Padre. Next you'll tell me it was all god's plan, and I shouldn't feel too bad about where things stand now – how everything netted out, right?"

"Well…is that how you feel?" Gabriel inquires while he fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt.

"I—" Javi's train of thought derails, and he clams up, expression shuttering in as he bows his head and stares at his beat-up workout sneakers. "Sorry. That was out of line…"

Humming lightly, Gabriel crossed his leg over his knee before leaning back into the wall casually.

"Sounds like you have a lot on your mind, Jav," is the priest's easygoing observation. "I know it isn't easy, talking stuff out. And I get not wanting to unburden yourself, least of all to a priest at confession. So, if you ever need to talk? Or hell – if you just want to vent some more high school resentments, give me a call," Gabriel is remarking coolly as he dips sideways to retrieve a card from his duffle and hands it to Javi. "We can shoot the shit over coffee."

Disarmed, Javier takes the card and looks at it, feeling something reassuring unfurl in him.

The chat meetups with Gabriel help him get out of his head during times when he feels at critical mass with his frustrations, and while it'd started as begrudging unburdening over coffee at the late-night diner, before long, the man started meeting him and Manny for jogs around the track or during their gym sessions, and afterward during the cool down period, they'd all talk. Slowly, he'd let his guard down with the man, who'd given him just as much background about what had brought him to wear the priest's collar. It was never a confession-session, and they never discussed faith, or when Javi had lost his, but hearing how Gabriel had found his calling, and the perspective shift for him, surprisingly gave Javier comfort.

Still, during times it was just him and Gabriel, the discussion inevitably veered to the topic of Colombia – of what happened there, and his resentment towards everything. Especially regarding how he let things fall apart with you. Really, the topic of you always makes him feel so much regret. And every time, Gabriel would smirk and quirk his brows at him before remarking, "It ain't over until it's over."

Javier wonders why he'd feel so sure about that.

It's what he's ruminating about now as he arrives at the courthouse in Miami. He'd only agreed to fly in for the trial because of the promise that this time, he'd really enjoy the outcome.

And Javier certainly had.

Having sat at the back of the court gallery, he'd enjoyed hearing the federal judge approve the order to extradite Gilberto and Miguel Rodríguez Orejuela into a maximum-security prison in North Carolina. This was, of course, after Guillermo Pallomari had testified to the voracity of the men having means of flight out of the Colombian prison they were currently lofting about in – point bolstered by the fact Chepe Santacruz had literally paid to be broken out of prison with the help of the guards.

The finer details of Proceso 8000 had been explained to him that morning by the lead DOJ prosecutor, and hearing the latest updates of the Cali cartel's downfall had been a salve to his still-battered ego. He took sadistic pleasure in hearing the gorier details.

Chepe Santacruz had broken out of prison, only to be killed and left like a dead dog in the street, likely by the AUC. And Pacho Herrera has been gunned down in La Picota.

It was the kind of poetic justice Javier felt validated some of the hell those fuckers had caused.

That night, in better spirits, Javi had called Steve and gotten an invite to dinner at the house. He hadn't expected to show up at the cute lime green abode with the white porch, and have his old partner open the door with a baby girl hitched above his hip while Olivia eagerly totted over to say hello.

He was still astounded while he sat at the dining table and listened to Steve explain how he and Connie had come back from a trip to Colombia in order to go back to Medellín to get Olivia's official birth certificate and adoption records for her to start school.

"—And there I am, entertaining the kid from going postal on the place, when Connie sees the baby get admitted to the orphanage. So yeah, we went for paperwork and came back with Isabel here," Steve had been regaling while he bounced the baby on his knee, smiling when Connie came in with the plates of spaghetti and scoffed at him. "What?! That's exactly how it went down—"

"He's forgetting to mention how he held her and got all choked up," Connie counters amusedly before placing a plate in front of Javier and picking up Olivia to sit her on her lap so she could help her practice eating with a fork.

"He's always been a softie," Javi quips and winked at Connie conspiratorially.

"Real cute. Make yourself useful and hold her while I go grab something," Steve grumbles sardonically as he handed Javi the baby.

A bit skittish, Javi tried to delicately maneuver her in his arms when she squirmed and made an impatiently little gurgle. "Uh, Con?" he muses when the baby fidgets to sit up in his arms in order to peer at Javi with big, innocent eyes.

"You're alright! She's just curious," Connie assures while she helps Olivia use her napkin to clean her marinara-covered fingers.

Javier was nervous that the baby would burst into tears at any moment, but surprisingly, the tyke only stared at him sweetly before exploringly reaching her little hand up to brush his mouth, as if intrigued by his moustache. He grunted a cooing sound that seemed to comfort the baby, because she curled up against him and quit squirming for purchase.

"Aww, she likes you, see?" Connie fawns while Steve came back in with a folder he drops onto the table before sitting in his chair adjacent his old partner. "Look how cute, hun."

"D'awww, Jav. I think you missed your calling, Mr. Mom," Steve chuckles as he picks up his beer, taking a long pull.

The baby yawns and nuzzles into his shoulder, settling down to doze in his hold. "Why does this feel like a ploy to get me to stay put?" Javi drawls in a hushed tone to not stir the baby, and cocks a brow at Steve.

"No idea what you mean," Steve evades as he slid the plate closer to Javi so he could eat with his unoccupied hand. "How's ranch life treating yah?"

"…It's fine," Javi deadpans and glances over at Connie, knowing she would likely give something up in the set of her brow or press of her mouth as he twirled the spaghetti onto his fork before taking a bite. Humming, he then elaborates, "Just getting ready to have less help now, since the holiday season is over—"

"Did Santa come to your house, uncle Javi?" Olivia pipes up suddenly, big brown eyes excitedly looking over at him as she emphatically chirps, "I had asked Santa for a puppy, but got a sister instead."

Snorting, Javi retorts, "Yeah? Do you like having a little sister?"

"I rather have a puppy," Oliva pipes honestly, and her parents try to stifle their chortles. "But Isabel is ok. She's just little."

Endeared, Javi remarks, "Yeah, but she'll get bigger and be able to play with you soon."

"Hopefully we'll have a puppy by the time she's bigger," the precocious little girl remarked before Connie snickered and decided to redirect her by taking her to the kitchen to get some cookies, leaving the boys to chat.

"Christ man…she's gonna be trouble when she's older," Javi can't help razz Steve before eating more from his plate, smirking when the other man shakes his head ruefully.

"Don't I know it," he chuckles as he gets up to carefully take the now sleeping baby from Javi so he could finish eating. "So…I got some news."

"You mean other than coming home with another baby?" Javi jokes as he dipped his piece of garlic bread into the marinara sauce on his plate.

"I got a promotion. In a few weeks, we're leaving Florida."

Shocked, Javi pauses in eating to dab his napkin over his mouth before asking, "Why so sudden?"

"Well, I got the offer last month, and since we're moving down to a U.S. territory, that's why we needed to get Olivia's documents in order. Connie already has a job lined up at the V.A. hospital there," he pauses to slide the folder over to Javier now. "It'll be a regional SAC position for the Caribbean division. However, the region is so big and covers so many islands, that I'll need a partner to help run things from the main island. And, you know my Spanish is terrible, so…"

Javier flipped open the folder, and was unsurprised to see it was a detailed summary of the job offer. His name was in all the required fields listing the role and responsibilities, as well as the breakdown of all the field agents and officials that would be direct reporting to him.

Without looking up from the document disclosing the budgetary and operational details associated with the San Juan field office, Javi muttered, "…Did Spencer put you up to this?"

"You were his first choice. But I guess you haven't been returning his calls, so yeah – I got the offer. But as you can see, Operations decided there was no way one SAC could manage all those responsibilities in such a vast division, so…I'd be the SAC for the U.S. Virgin Islands and field ops in Puerto Rico, but you'd be the SAC for the entire archipelago, the DEA official liaison with the Puerto Rican government, and the Special Agent in Charge of coordinated operations with ATF and FBI on the island."

Sitting back in his chair and rubbing at his temples, Javier grumbles, "I'm through, Steve. There's nothing left for me to do, and…frankly, I don't think I can handle any more of that shit. Spencer's been hounding me to head the Mexico operation since I got back from Colombia, so why this, all of a sudden? And why would you think I'd be open to taking this role?"

"Look at the last page in the folder," Steve instructs as he gently rubbed Isabel's back.

Confused, Javi flips through the documents until he got to the last one. It was a departmental org chart for the Federal Office building in San Juan, and at first, he didn't know why Steve would want him to bother skimming it. But then he sees it.

Your name is listed under the Digital Information Operations division.

Snapping his wide-eyed stare up at Steve, he watches the blond nod smugly. "Yep. She's been heading the department for a few months now," is what he volunteers before arching his brows knowingly at Javier. "Besides that, things got real dicey in Mexico after one of the big military officials DEA partnered with turned out to be dirty. And really, a lot of attention has been diverted to the Caribbean drug traffic networks now…but yeah, figured that would be more of a motivator for you to say yes."

He had him at your name listed on that personnel form. It was a no brainer.

The next day, Javier had called Mike Spencer.

The following afternoon, he was back in Laredo, and when he got to the house, he sat his father down and told him the news.

"…You're going back to the DEA?" Chucho had balked, wilting back in his recliner.

"It'll be different this time."

"Javier," his father had grumbled, unconvinced, until he saw the way his son's eyes gleamed soulfully at him. "What'll be different this time from the last?"

Sitting at the edge of the chair to lean forward and stare confidently at his father, Javier declared it.

"Because I'm not going back to lose myself in chasing pinche asesinos again. I'm going back to get her."

***

You'd been floored when you heard the news from Ellis.

But really, when you thought about it, the hire of Steve Murphy to oversee DEA operations as the Special Agent in Charge made total sense when you accounted for how aggressive the current administration was becoming against the drug trade and gang violence on the island.

So, when Devon had come into your office the prior morning to brief you on upcoming meetings with the ATF, FBI and DEA officials the following week, you'd made it clear that he had your full support to be as prepared for the meetings as possible, the way he deemed fit.

When you'd gotten the job, you'd been surprised when Devon had emailed you asking for a transfer to Puerto Rico, but once you'd talked to Jackie and found out he and Noreen went public with their relationship and wanted to move on from the embassy, and that he wanted to be closer to his family in the Virgin Islands now that they were planning to marry, you facilitated the interview process for Noreen to apply to work in Ellis' department and made Devon an offer to be your deputy director.

"—Hey, I got the logs from the efficiency tests," Devon is remarking as he comes into your office now, pulling you from reviewing your planner. "And the fellas in procurement asked if we can move our status meeting to tomorrow afternoon, but I wanted to check with you first before confirming."

Once you tell him that's fine, he goes on to update you on the latest matters he was most worried about that day. His gentle, melodic baritone and attentive expression while he discusses some of the tension from the other departments being required to adhere to your new protocols during the meetings he'd overseen, inspires you to put him at ease.

"I'm not concerned about it. And if anyone gives you any pushback or attitude, tell me and I'll report it to their superiors. They don't have any say, and if they don't want to fall in line? They might need to be reassigned," you chime, glad to see him relax in his seat from across you. "Anyway, how're things? You and Noreen enjoy Barrachina?"

"Yes! You weren't kidding, those were the best piña coladas ever! She loved it," he gushes, moving on to more pleasant topics before you jovially tease him to go have lunch with Noreen.

During your lunch break, you head to your checkup, eager to see if the gynecologists finally found a birth control prescription that would be as comparable to the medication you'd been on in Colombia.

Since moving to Puerto Rico, you'd been relegated to switching prescriptions because the brand you'd used wasn't available in the U.S. territory. So far, you'd taken one pill that had made you have terrible migraines, fatigue, and loss of appetite. Followed by one that made you gain weight, have terrible cramps, and had significantly elevated your blood pressure. You were hoping your test results would help the doctor suss out a better option.

You hadn't been ready for her to tell you that she didn't think you should be on birth control.

"—According to the bloodwork, your latest PAP test, and the ultrasound readings, you aren't the right candidate for the prescription I was hoping to put you on. Instead, we need to discuss your 5-year plan."

"…My 5-year plan for what?" you'd queried, perplexed.

"Your plan for having children. After all, you've been on birth control since you were in your teens, and frankly your hormonal production is quite suppressed. The follicle count was the lowest I've seen in someone your age, so much so that I think it's a high probability that you'll have issues conceiving, if you plan on getting pregnant," she tells you in a clinical tone, but when she sees your brows arch in shock, she softens her tone. "I would like you to not take any oral contraceptives for a few months so we can see if your hormones rebound—"

"What's the probability that I won't be able to conceive?"

She'd hesitated at your even question. "Well…at the current numbers, with how long you've used oral contraceptives, and with your family history, your fertility level might be stunted—"

"So, I could be infertile?" you'd cut in with the blunt question while you wrung your hands together in your lap.

"I think it's much too early to say that," the doctor assured before going into her instructions for you and scheduling another checkup and series of labs after a few months.

A bit shellshocked, you'd gone back to work and operated on autopilot the rest of the day.

Doctor's orders had been for you to up your cardio, find methods of de-stressing, eating a cleaner diet with more lean proteins, and limiting your alcohol intake. Most of them were already in practice, having gone on a diet and started working out after the holidays when you'd tried to get into one of your favorite pair of jeans, and ended up balking when you couldn't fasten them shut without lying flat on your bed.

Once you'd gotten home that night, you drew a nice hot bath, lit one of the scented candles Naida had gifted you, and slipped under the soothing water.

It's just like Ma. She had a hard time conceiving, and after she lost the baby, she couldn't get pregnant again…

Your mind wanders over the potential of not being a mother. Did you even want to be? Was the news bothering you because you'd expected to one day have a baby, and now the decision could be taken away from you?

You'd make a terrible mother anyway.

Sad, you'd climbed out of the tub, dried off, and moped into your bedroom with the candle. Once you'd set it on the nightstand, you pulled on a light and airy nightgown before getting under the covers. The ceiling fan undulated the air in a rhythmic breeze that usually helped lull you to sleep, but with your mind tangling up with 'what if's' and worst-case scenarios, you instead ended up tossing and turning.

Frustrated, you sat up in bed and yearned for comfort. After all, you'd been single and celibate since you'd left Colombia, and with all the birth control hassle, you hadn't been mentally in a place to want to go out and meet anyone. No, you'd spent your time outside of work either curled up on the couch catching up on all the network TV you'd missed out on, getting lost watching movies on the cable channels, or seeing the latest flick you'd picked up from the movie rental place. All of course, were ploys to keep yourself distracted from the loneliness.

However, a few weeks back, when you'd been at Delilah's baptism, you'd had an opportunity to end the self-imposed drought, but passed on it.

Anita and Ellis had asked you to be little Delilah's godmother, and overcome, you'd agreed. They'd asked Ellis' younger brother, Trevor, to be the godfather. You'd met him years prior when he'd visited Ellis once, and you'd liked him. He was sweet, funny, and just as silly as his older brother, but there was a really charming edge to him that while you'd all been rehearsing at the church had made you smile a little less platonically than you should've.

His striking blue eyes had held your gaze for a beat too long when you were both listening to the priest walk you through how you would hold the baby, and the pronunciations you would both need to make during the ceremony. Afterward, you both went to buy gifts for the baby – things she would need for the baptism. The Rose boys were raised Southern Baptist, so you needed to guide Trevor through the Catholic traditions, and he helped you pick out the gold cross pendant necklace you'd both gift Delilah to wear on her baptism, along with a cute pair of booties Trevor bought and lace bonnet you got.

After the ceremony, you'd both danced with the baby during the little party thrown at their house, and at the end of the night when he'd offered to walk you to your car, you'd enjoyed having his hand chivalrously cup the back of your elbow as he led you down the walkway. But when he'd opened your car door for you, there was a moment where you both vacillated, and then just when he'd leaned in to kiss you, you'd turned. His lips and pressed into your cheek, and you'd bashfully apologized, but he'd chuckled and stepped back with a gentlemanly smile.

The following day, when you'd all had lunch before seeing him off to the airport, he'd leaned over next to you at the table to confide, "Ellis told me not to come onto you, but I just had to take my chance."

Snickering, you'd shoved your shoulder playfully into his. "Oh?"

"Yeah. You'd been so cool but guarded when I met you in Colombia, it kind of intimidated me. I don't normally get intimidated by women," he'd wryly huffed, but then admitted, "Ellis mentioned you were single, and when I said I was gonna flirt with you, he yelled at me. Probably because I'm technically just on a break with my girlfriend—"

"Hah, so I was gonna be your tropical tryst, eh?" you'd hazed, and he'd laughed, so you jibed, "Well, unfortunately for you, no matter how handsome you are, you're still related to that dork over there, and he's practically family now, which makes you the brother I never wanted as well!"

Ellis had frowned when Trevor had thrown his napkin across the table at him and sarcastically blamed him for once again cock-blocking him.

You snicker at the memory of Ellis barking "Language, Trevor!" when the melancholy and loneliness comes over you heavy now.

Realizing you aren't going to get any sleep at this rate, you broke down and retrieved the shirt from the dresser and draped it over the opposite pillow you used to sleep. Once settled on your side to curl up spooning the pillow, the comforting, manly scent laced to the soft cotton soothed your mind enough to finally be able to doze off.

In your waking, non-lonesome moments, though, you are exasperated with yourself. Your feelings shouldn't be so strong still, not after the time that's gone by. But it's undeniable. No more so than when you're aching for sexual gratification and touch yourself, thinking of a new hunk as your fixation – usually the latest actor you'd seen in a movie at the theater, but your mind would meld Antonio Banderas, or Brad Pitt into the one man who held your heart in perpetuity – who could make you yearn and melt down with needy pleasure before giving you ecstasy.

No matter what, Javier always was the name you cried out when you climaxed, and the flustered ache that would be left over would either make you mad, or make you tear up.

You couldn't go more than a week without thinking about him.

Your heart would betray you, wondering where he was, how he was doing, if he'd been lying when he said he would keep trying. But then, your mind would snap, Of course he was! How can you still wonder about that?!

At the very least, even before your diagnosis started hanging over your head, you'd decided to throw yourself into bettering yourself health-wise. You'd started going on morning jogs with Jodalys and her friends, joined Zoraida at her aerobics classes every other night, and even would go for long walks with Anita inside Plaza Las Americas some weekend mornings while she pushed Delilah in her stroller.

This particular morning, Jodalys was telling you about a big charity event she'd be hosting in a couple of weeks for the children's hospital, and you'd offered to see if the Federal office would be a sponsor through their Giving Back program.

Said night of the event, you were representing for the program as you worked the room and chatted with officials and other donors, smiling as Jodalys introduced you to a rep for the local animal shelter.

When you turn to greet someone else, you looked over to see Roman talking with an official from the business affairs department of the local government across the way in the event hall. At your shocked expression, Jodalys whispers, "Ah, that's the former head of Varroco Corp, Ernan Villamil's son – Roman Villamil Ibarra. He's one of the main donors! Do you know him?"

Nodding, you excuse yourself from the group and go to the bar, feelings a little woozy all of a sudden, so you ask for a glass of water.

You're in mid-sip when a tenor voice orders beside you, "Gin and tonic, please."

Internally swearing at your luck, you finish sipping your water and steel yourself to turn and get this random encounter over with already.

He turned and blinked at you, as if surprised to see you.

"Oh, hey there, chica," he drawls haltingly when he clocks the skeptical narrowing of your gaze on him, so he shifts his weight onto his other foot and gestures to the bar as he invites, "Uh, would you like something to drink—?"

"You're a charitable big shot now, I see," you find yourself sarcastically droning, hand on your hip as you eye him. "You a choirboy on the weekends too?"

Snorting, he takes a sip from his drink, green eyes smiling at you over the rim of the glass before he places it on the counter and leans his elbow onto it. "No, but sometimes they let me skip the communion line and have a sip of the wine," he jokes in a melodic croon.

You snicker, despite yourself. Giving him a once over, you see he's dressed much more professionally than you'd last seen him. Dark grey suit, pin-striped dress shirt, and striped navy-and-indigo tie looking quite sharp on him now.

"My friend said you're one of the main donors?" you conversationally query as you busy yourself with finishing your glass of water.

"Yeah. Varroco Corp has increased its sponsorships. We donate to a lot of the charities on the island," Roman retorts, expression softening with his smile. "Gotta balance out making tons of profit with a lot of goodwill."

"I'm sure," you remark, giving him a friendly smile as you joke, "Gotta make up for your lack of community service somehow."

He laughs, and gives you a musing 'Maybe so' shrug of his shoulders before asking, "And you? I take it you’re back on the island full time?"

"Yes. I work for the federal state department," you answer, and nod at the bartender when he asks what you'd like to drink.

But before you can answer, Roman orders, "Una Cuba libre para la dama." You roll your eyes. "What? You have a new go-to?"

"No, but I can't believe I'm that predictable," you sneer self-deprecatingly before thanking the bartender when he serves you the drink.

"Nah, I just remember," Roman says with an easy timbre warming his tone.

A comfortable silence falls as you both sip your drinks, one you hope will lead to him needing to go back into the schmoozing zone of the event.

But then, he puts his empty glass down and clears his throat. "So, you give any thought to grabbing coffee?" he attempts, broad shoulders slanting as he folds his forearms over the bar top to conspiratorially lean closer and pledge, "I'll even be down for that annoying little chinchorro you loved on the beach in Isla Verde."

Scoffing amusedly, you shake your head. "You hated it there—"

"Yeah, well, I'd love to catch up with you more than I'd hate sitting there eating sorrullitos y queso frito," he cuts in charismatically, smirking when you jokingly fawn, as if picturing the fatty appetizers with pining. "C'mon, chiquita. Have a drink with me? A pincho?" he jokes, and when you giggle, he adds faux plaintively, "A café?! Anything you want?"

"Ok! Fine," you deridingly snipe and relent with the suggestion of, "There's a fancy little bistro café that opened up—"

"In El Condado, yeah. How about I make a reservation—" he'd been proposing when his pocket began to ring. Expression etching with annoyance, he huffs, "Excuse me, sorry."

You watch him retrieve a black matte flip phone from his pocket and lope off to answer it.

Something in you fixates on how his expression had quickly shifted to the glower you remember him having when he was becoming vexed, but before you could let your mind pull you down into the reminiscing of darker times, Roman strolls back over to the bar, hand idly rubbing the scruff on his chin as he sighs.

"I'm sorry. Looks like I'll have to fly out on my next trip a lot sooner than I'd planned, so how about I give you a call once I'm back in town so we can coordinate that bistro date?" Roman proposes, green eyes holding yours with hopeful heat in them.

So much so, that you find yourself agreeing, and when he leans in to peck you on the cheek in farewell, you're so disarmed that it takes you a moment before he starts walking away to call out, "How're you gonna get my number?"

Turning to smirk at you over his shoulder, Roman purrs, "I'll open the phone book and start dialing," then winks at you before heading off through the mingling event attendees.

You have no chance to even chastise yourself and break down everything that just transpired, not with Jodalys coming over and pulling you back into the event fray of meeting people.

Really, what would be so wrong with being cordial with Roman? Like you'd said before: Everyone has the capacity to change, and everything that had gone down between you two had been so long ago – at a fulcrum point for your individual maturation that shouldn't be defining for you. After all, you were no angel, and would hate to be judged for the things you did in your early twenties. No matter how flagrant or naïve you'd been – how reckless and resentful you'd been capable of being then.

He called it a date, though…

Annoyed with yourself, you'd waved it off. Nothing was set in stone. You had politely agreed to the possibility of maybe having coffee with him. But nothing was reserved, and really, he could forget all about it, with how clearly busy he was with his company.

You're resolved to not think about it further, and are chastising yourself when your mind wanders to the thought that you didn't feel right about even mentioning it to any of your friends – that you'd run into him again – and end up going on autopilot as you'd walked in through the lobby of the federal building and headed to the elevators. So much so, that you didn't first hear someone calling out your name.

At the second call, you paused in your stride and turned towards the man who was hustling over to greet you.

"Hey! Long time no see, hun."

Smiling, you shake your head at him looking tense and unsure of how to greet you, so you pull the tall blond in for a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek.

"It's great to see you, Steve," is your warm greeting, pulling back to see him look relieved. "Congrats on the promotion!"

"Aw, thanks. And you too! Saw you're a big director now," he chuckles and slips his hands into his tan trouser pockets. "And, that you got your way after all: Every agency has to bow down to getting trained in tech."

"Damn straight," you quip, adjusting your purse high on your blue blazer-clad shoulder as you ask, "How're Connie and Olivia?"

"They're great! She'll start kinder next week, and Connie's working at the V.A.," Steve retorts before going on to gush as he pulls out his wallet after you gesture in a way that says 'Break out the pictures!'

He tells you about the new baby, Isabel, and you smile as he jovially lets you flip through the photos in his wallet while he takes out a business card and writes his personal cell phone number on the back before handing it to you.

"—It was great running into you, Steve. I'll see you around. Probably at that first big inter-agency meeting next week," you're telling him as you scribble your phone number onto a yellow sticky note you'd produced from your purse and peel off the sheet, fold it, and hand it over to him. "And if you guys need help settling in, give me call!"

"Will do," he drawls in his carefree rasp before gesturing a silly farewell salute as you both part ways.

Later that night, when he called Javier, he had no qualms in telling him he'd seen you.

"—She looked great, Jav. I was nervous that she'd be standoffish, but she was a sweetheart," he regales to his partner, adding pointedly, "She did not mention anything, though, so I'm not sure where she stands."

Grunting, Javi sits back against the headboard of his hotel room bed, exhaling gruffly as he rubs his palm across his cheek. "Yeah, well…I'll find out soon enough, I suppose," is his glib grumble before asking, "And nothing's been announced yet, right?"

"Nah, nothing about the leadership adjustment. Didn't make sense to put it out until I'm settled in and all the field agents report in for their assignment," Steve confirms, adding, "But, I wouldn't be surprised if Spencer drops a memo first thing next Thursday when you're due to be landing. He gave me the impression that he likes making big splashes."

Javi grunts dryly. "That's one way to put it. Anyway…thanks for the update."

"Oh, before I forget, write this number down," Steve orders, and Javier does so dutifully.

"Ok, got it. What's this for?" he asks as he scribbles it on the top of the legal notepad that was near and handy.

"It's her personal number."

Pausing, Javier stares at it before clearing his throat gruffly.

"You should call her, Jav."

"Steve…I want to, but I know if I do, she'll go nuclear on me and refuse to speak to me," is Javier's haggard sigh as he deflates against the headboard at the mere prospect of earning your ire. "…For what I did, I need to talk to her face-to-face."

"Well…it's your funeral, man," Steve can't help haze, and Javi scoffs sourly. "Anyway, I'll give you the rundown once you're here."

After placing his new cell phone back onto its charger set on the nightstand, he sat up and unbuttoned his dress shirt all the way down to his waistband and yanked the shirt tails loose so he could be more comfortable now that he was sitting with his legs crisscrossed. Casting a tired glance at all the documents, maps, and personnel files strewn across the bed, Javi picks up a stack and reads up more on Quintoni Martínez, El Gran of the mafia-styled cartel that ran the drug trade in Puerto Rico.

His day getting a crash course on everything had ended with him taking stacks of documents with him in a box back to his hotel room, and while he'd picked at his sandwich, he'd started making lists for himself.

He would spend the rest of his time at Quantico, where he'd review the fresh batch of agents who'd volunteered for the placement surge down in the Caribbean division. Javier had picked out junior agents that fit the profile he thought would be the savviest and most set up for success: Men and women with a background in community policing, fluent in Spanish, and with no kids or family anywhere near the U.S. territory they'd be assigned to.

And after the anticlimactic way things had ended for them prior, he'd pulled two experienced agents he knew he could trust, and to his relief, both had been glad to fall back in under his leadership.

By the time his belongings were arriving ahead of him to the single-story bungalow he'd be living in a week later, you were rushing off the elevator on your exercise-sore muscles to stride in a clipped pace to your office. You'd opted for a pin-striped black on black skirt and matching blazer rather than your chic tailored pantsuits that had become the staple of your in-office attire, knowing you'd need to deal with a lot of chauvinistic traditionalists in your big meeting later that morning.

Already setting your itinerary for the things you'd need to do after work so you could get to your apartment and get ready for the happy hour at The Condado Plaza Hilton that was getting thrown by the Puerto Rico Federal Affairs Administration, your mind was preoccupied as you hustled along. The Chief Executive Director of U.S. Federal Relations, and really the only person you had to "report" to had sent out a memo earlier in the week, asking for all department heads to attend the event in order to foster camaraderie between the local and federal officials, so you and Ellis agreed to carpool together in order to make your appearances.

Thinking about the dress you were planning on wearing for the occasion, you've just breezed in to your nice, tidy office with the great northeast views that on a clear day span out all the way to the picturesque skyline beyond, when Ellis bursts through the door you'd just shut after yourself.

"Hey!" he exclaims as he comes in and quickly shut the door after himself.

"Jeez, am I that late!? I got out of that crazy yoga class Zoraida dragged me to much later than I'd planned—" you're in the middle of griping as you place your purse down on your sideboard next to your desk and retrieve your leatherbound organizer and day planner.

"Girlie…I think you need to sit down."

Pausing, you turn to stare at Ellis with confusion on your features.

"What?" is your chortle, but then at the serious look on his face, you fret, "Oh, did something happen with Anita? The baby—?!"

"N-No! Everything's alright," he assuages and hustles over to grab your wrist and gently guide you to your nearby leather couch tucked in the corner, across from the east-facing windows of your office.

"Ellis, you're scaring me. What's up?" you scoff as he sits next to you.

"…A memo just came over the wire from stateside. There was some kind of last-minute shakeup, and…" he parcels out, but when you stare at him with incomprehension as to what could be so bad about a memo, he decides to just come out with it.

"The new Special Agent in Charge for the DEA here is Javier Peña."

You feel like you've just been pushed into syrupy quicksand. A sarcastic laugh comes out of you as you dismiss it as a joke.

No, no—totally not real. This is a joke! But before you can convince yourself of it, the feeling of dismay pulls you under when you take a shaky breath and focus on how earnest and worried Ellis looks.

"…Really?" you croak, staring incredulously at your friend. When his brows quirk bewilderedly at you, you exclaim, "That can't be. It doesn't make sense. Steve Murphy's the SAC—"

"Turns out, he and Javier are splitting up the Caribbean territory. Steve's going to oversee the U.S. Virgin Islands, and Javier's going to be the head of things here," Ellis explains.

He doesn't know what to expect when you sit back in your seat and go silent, gaze getting faraway and expression shuttering into a stoic mask. But then your hands ball up into fists in your lap, and your stare narrows as you turn to look at him with what he can only describe as searing rancor.

"When is he due to start?"

Gulping, Ellis hedges on telling you, but when your glare turns exacting, he squawks, "Today."

Your fury collects itself and winds up into a fierce, roiling heat that you keep in your belly as you nod, stand, and go to your desk, pick up your phone, and dial Devon's extension.

He promptly answers, so you tell him, "Please come to my office as soon as you can. There are a few things I need to prep you on for the inter-agency meeting."

Once you've hung up, you sit at your desk and open up your laptop, typing in a furious flurry while Ellis remains at the couch and blinks haplessly over at you.

"Well…I'm scared to ask, kid," he admits, and when you grunt but don't look away from the screen, he presses, "What're you gonna do?"

Pausing, you take a cleansing inhale, hold it, then exhale, just like you'd learned at that silly yoga class. Then, you look over at your friend with fire in your eyes.

"I'm going to rip his fucking head off if he even tries to talk to me."

To be continued…

________________

Read Chapter 40: Hopes

Spanish-English Glossary:

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

'Buela = short for 'abuela', aka grandmother

Altar = Prayer altar; mini prayer shrine in someone's home

Eres mi única hija, y te amo con toda mi alma = You're my only daughter, and I love you with my entire soul

Trigueño = Olive-skinned, swarthy man

Artesano = Artisan

Mijo = short for "mi hijo", a term of endearment akin to "my son/sonny" 

Hermano = Brother; bud

Coño = A swear, akin to 'Fucking hell' or 'Damn!'

Carnal = A very close and trusted friend who is almost blood to you; a trusted buddy

Pendejo = Dumbass; jackass

Fresa = Mexican slang for someone posh, or hoity-toity

Llegó = Arrived

Pobrecito = Poor baby; poor baby boy

Ay, mami = Oh, mom

Pinche madre = Motherfucker; sonuvabitch

Huevones = Dummies; goofballs

Prima = Cousin (female)

Sabes? = You know?

Fiesta = Party; festival

Nena = Girl

Las Fiestas SanSe = Short for "Las Fiestas de San Sebastían", which is a big street festival in Old San Juan along the San Sebastían street; festival occurs at the end of January and lasts a week

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

Chichaítos = Different flavored anise shots of rum that are chilled

Damas, adelante = Ladies, enter forward

Doncellita = little noblewoman; little maiden

Empresa = Company/Enterprise/Business

Chavalita = Akin to saying 'missy' or 'lass'; a young woman

Lengüetera = garrulous, silver-tongued daring and witty talker (female)

Clavelina = A type of pretty pink flower that resembles a vibrant carnation

Taberna = Tavern

O sentarnos pa' café = Or sit/meetup for coffee

Miramelinda = a double meaning: Miramelinda is the name of a strain of impatiens flower, but literally translated, the name means 'Look at me pretty'

Disfruta las fiestas, cielito = Enjoy the festival, little sky

Nos vamos = We're leaving 

Kiosko = Kiosk; food stand

Tiene cojones = [He] has balls

Frituras = Fritters; tropical turnovers

Mira = Look

Te llamo después = I'll call you later

Chica = Gal; lass

Una Cuba libre para la dama = A Cuba libra for the lady

Sorrullitos y queso frito = Little sweet fritters and fried cheese

Chiquita = Little chick; little girl

Pincho = A Caribbean shish-kabob, usually made of marinated pork or chicken

The song lyrics included in this chapter are from "Enjoy the Silence" by Depeche Mode.

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