#the spanish press delivers yet again

[juancarlosferrero]

Translation from Spanish:

The detail that went unnoticed at Wimbledon: Alcaraz melted into a affectionate hug with a very special person

The tennis player got emotional about seeing in the audience this person from Valencia who has been a turning point in his life.

[teachandwrite-blog]

fragments

"Poor little kid.

He just sits over there every morning as the sun comes up.

Never says a word.

Just sits there watching the ocean and listening to the waves.

One time I walked over to him.

'How you doin'?' I asked. 'What's your name?'

He just looked at me.

Didn't say a thing.

I figured he didn't understand me.

His granddaddy and momma are migrant workers picking peaches here until they move on down the coast.

I thought maybe he only spoke Spanish.

Finally, he whistled.

It wasn't like a normal whistle with a shrill sound and two notes.

Nope, it was an unusual whistle.

It had all kinds of sounds in it, all kinds of notes.

I've never heard anything like it in my life.

It was like he was tryin' to say somethin' to me, but I had no idea what it was.

Then he looked back at the ocean and was quiet again.

I feel for him.

I wonder what we could do to help him?"

Folks had talked that way about him since the day he was born.

"Poor little baby," said the labor and delivery nurses at the hospital.

"Born on a day like today.

And his family has no papers.

What could we do to help him?"

His family had just crossed into the United States.

They had ridden the train, The Beast the migrants called it, all the way from the scorched earth of El Salvador's twelve year civil war to the Mexican - U.S. border.

A coyote had brought them into the promised land and had taken them all the way to Miami.

His mamí was pregnant with him and the time had come for her to deliver.

The coyote stopped in front of St. Mary's church, made the sign of the cross, and put them out on the street with nothing but the tattered clothes on their backs and the battered shoes on their feet.

As a matter of fact, his mamí’s shoes had fallen apart many miles ago so she was barefooted.

His abuelo lifted the iron knocker on the church's door and let it fall back to it's iron plate.

He did this again and again until an old nun cracked open the door to the night.

The nun was a good woman, full of wisdom and compassion.

She had worked in the city for many years.

"I've seen it all," she said many times.

Or she thought she had.

For of all the people she had seen as an inner-city nun - convicts, addicts, broken people, oppressed people - she had never seen the beauty and suffering in the faces of Gustavo and Maria at the church door that night.

Their eyes were light with beauty, the beauty of being in a land without war, the beauty of bringing a new life into the world.

Yet their bodies were heavy with suffering.

They were filthy dirty after thousands of miles of migration over the long, treacherous road.

Their shoulders sagged under the weight of years of homelessness, for their first home had been destroyed by bombs and their home since then had been tiny spaces of little kindnesses people had shown them along the way.

They were quiet with the silence of the fear of the unknown.

The nun was especially struck by the sight of Maria.

She was sitting on the bottom step of the church, her bare feet pressed flat against the concrete sidewalk, her arms wrapped around her swollen belly, and her face anguished in the pains of labor.

"Vamanos á la carro," said the nun.

"We have to get to the hospital now!"

[nauticadreams]

During 1691, Jack Teague was born during a typhoon aboard a pirate ship. Named after the brother of his father, Edward Teague, Jack grew up without his unknown mother amid the seafaring outlaws at Shipwreck Cove on Shipwreck Island. Not eager to be yet another crewmate, Jack Teague insisted on one day becoming a captain of his own vessel. After serving as a cabin boy, he would find himself the captain of the Barnacle, a small fishing boat that had been left abandoned at Salty Cove on the island of Tortuga.

After a bout of adventures around the Gulf of Mexico, the Grand Barnacle would be destroyed in a confrontation with the English Royal Navy by cannonfire intended for Edward Teague’s ship, the Misty Lady.

After many more adventures, Jack would later find himself as a crewmember of the Wicked Wench, under the captaincy of Captain Morgan (not to be confused with the buccaneer and later governor of Port Royal of the same name), when they would be confronted by Capitan Armando Salazar around 1711. Salazar had been in command of the Spanish galleon, Silent Mary, and had been putting effort into the extermination of pirates in the West Indies out of vengeance for his father and grandfather who had perished at the hands of pirates. The battle would take place near the Devil’s Triangle west of the Windard Isles in the Lesser Antilles, and would see the Silent Mary destroyed as she ran aground a collection of rocks shortly after entering the triangle while in pursuit of the Wicked Wench - a result of actions spurred on by Jack “the Sparrow.” For a while, Jack found himself elected captain of the vessel, as their captain had perished in the confrontation.

Some time later, Jack no longer found himself aboard the Wicked Wench, as he had been press-ganged into service aboard a French brigantine named La Vipere, captained by Christophe-Julien de Rapier. Not long after, he had been left at sea in a longboat with fellow crewmate Robert Greene. Upon reaching dry land again, the duo began working for the East India Trade Company for five years, and Jack served as first mate aboard the brig Fair Wind. In 1716, after taking control of the Fair Wind, defending her from pirates, Jack Sparrow was offered captaincy of the merchant vessel Wicked Wench (which had apparently fallen into EITC hands by this point) by an impressed Lord Cutler Beckett, who was a director of the company regarding West Africa.

After a number of voyages on behalf of the East India Trading Company, Jack had been ordered to deliver a cargo of enslaved Africans to New Avalon in the Bahamas. Jack however despised the idea of humans being deemed as cargo and instead freed them, stealing Beckett’s ship. Shortly afterwards, a number of vessels were dispatched to capture the pirate Jack Sparrow, and before long he found himself imprisoned.

Months later, Jack would be brought to the coast of West Africa and be branded upon his arm with a “P” labeling him forever as a pirate. Just off the shore, he was made to watch as the Wicked Wench was torched. Breaking free from his captors, he swam for the ship but found himself trapped within her cabins as she sank beneath the waves.

Jack Sparrow found himself somewhere between life and death, on the path to Davy Jone’s Locker or the Land of the Dead. There, a deal was struck with Davy Jones that if Jones would raise his ship, after thirteen years he would forfeit his captaincy and serve onboard Jones’ ship, the Flying Dutchman. The blackened, charred ship would rise above the waves once more and be renamed the Black Pearl.

Two years later, in 1718, Jack would have Hector Barbossa aboard the Black Pearl, naming him first mate in a voyage to search for Aztec gold that had been stashed by Cortes. Prior to its discovery, the crew mutinied, an act which Barbossa spurred into being. Jack was marooned on a desert island, and Barbossa claimed captaincy of the Black Pearl.

Jack Sparrow would escape his solitude on the desert isle, and sail the seas having many more adventures over the next 11 years, until Jones would later reappear to him in 1729.

[topgunruinedme]

Daggers Daycare||o.6

Synopsis: Maverick finds himself in a situation he cant explain. The daggers are unavailable, and he finds himself in need of help from his old crew. Of cause this wasn’t the reunion they expected.

“Did you kidnap an orphanage Mav?”

Warning: age regression (they get turned into children), slight whump mostly fluff, slight swearing, homophobia and 5 idiots with no knowledge on kids caring for some.

Word Count: 2.8k

Read on Ao3

Previous chapters: Chapter||o.1, Chapter||o.2, Chapter||o.3, Chapter||o.4, Chapter||o.5.

Note: I'm self beta-ing this chapter.

Secondary Notes: Hello everyone, I'm leaving this important note to notify you all that I will be posting less in the next few month, as I will be returning to school . My weekly posting will now be once a moth, this means that I will only post an update to each book every month (don't worry this does not mean only one update per month but rather one update per book). Thank you for understanding.

Spanish translation: Buccaneer- Pirate.

Javy believes that Jake is a pirate who will rule the sea, this is mainly just a Drabble of children’s imagination.

//

There was a faint pounding in his head as a headache attempted to sneak up on him, Ice scribbled down a number onto the paper as he moved through the display aisle. The trolley squealed as he shifted it to the side, it made a soft thud as it nudged into one of the displays. A light blue cot that had a canopy and a mobile of animals, Ice grimaced. It was way over decorated, it was a place to sleep not a throne. Would the sheer drapes from the canopy strangle the child? Wasn't that dangerous?

“So why are we here again?” Wolf asked, lounging  back against one of the giant teddy's in the bed section. He had somehow managed to find three of them and had collected them and created a bed for himself. 

Ice sighed insufferably, “Wolf” he gritted his teeth, “For the fifth time, were marking them down to be delivered”. He rubbed his face tiredly, why had he been so confident in taking Wolf? Why hasn't he taken Slider? At least then the man would have helped him, Wolf whined far too much. 

He should have remembered that from his wedding when the man had complained that Ice had been leaving them for a hot chick, the man had whined for hours and then cried at his wedding.

The man who had made him promise that night to not stray too far away in marriage life. Too bad he had broken that promise too. If he had known that night that it would have been the last time he saw them for years. The suffering and all the struggles he would go through alone, too afraid to reach out to them. Too ashamed to reach out for help with his failing marriage, he wouldn't have gone. He would have claimed to have cold feet and he would have ran. 

“Why can't we just get them now?” Wolf whined, pulling the arm of the teddy bear over his eyes dramatically. The man had dropped there after he decided Ice had been taking too long to look over the section of Cot’s. 

He had since moved on to toddler beds and mattresses, carefully marking down the names on the chosen items on a small piece of paper and small pencil; that he had snagged from one of the dispensers from the display. 

“Because they wouldn't all fit in your van. We have more stuff to get, oh and we don’t have a place to put them yet”.

Wolf flushed as Ice dragged his hand across his face tiredly rubbing his eyes, “I’m almost done alright? Then we'll move on”.  

The man grumbled slightly before pressing back into the bear and scrolling on his phone muttering about it being the ‘worst shopping trip ever’.

Dear lord, he hoped children were easier to deal with then Wolf. 

//

Maverick looked down tirelessly when someone tugged on his jeans, they were looser at the bottom apparently. He stared down at Natasha, she was holding Bob’s hand who looked half asleep still. 

“Yes Nat?” he looked up to glance around, Wood had disappeared he could hear Slider and Wood arguing in the kitchen. He frowned before glancing back down at her, Bob blinked slowly at him there was an imprint of his glasses on his face from where he had been sleeping on them. 

She frowned at him, “I’m hungary, Bob needs to eat” she said firmly tugging the smaller boy forward, he was tugging the large blanket behind them, it was clutched in his fist as the boy rubbed it against his face with a small whine.

A tactile child then, they would need soft blankets for him. Maverick tried to think if they had any in his house, he doubted it. Mickey had dropped slime on the only one he could think of last week. It had been thrown out an hour later. Apparently slimes really had to get out of stuff.  

Bob grimaced as he pulled the blanket away, his lip trembling, Mavericks eyes widened in panic. Sure he had dealt with Bradley crying but that was nearly two decades ago, he had seen Wood do it with Reuben earlier. But this was Bob. 

If he stuffed up Bob of all people, he would have everyone after him. He didn't want to be the one responsible for accidentally ruining him. The boy was too innocent for this world.  

“Slider” he called out nervously his eyes not leaving Bobs as the boy pulling the blanket closer letting natasha pull it around him to keep him warm but refusing to let it touch his skin, pulling away with a small whine when she attempted to push the fabric against his face in a mimic of what Maverick assumed was a stress prevention. A coping mechanism that had re-emerged due to the sudden situation. 

“Busy pipsqueak” Slider called back as he started to hassle Wood about…Oven temperatures? They were fighting over an oven? Why the hell was no one helping him?

“Hungry kids” he called as he stepped away from them wearily, “They might start snapping at your ankles if you don't make them something soon” he said nervously. 

Natasha seemed to be getting more stressed the more distressed Bob became. Frowning heavily as she attempted to help the tactile child. Bradley had been clingy but he had never been tactile. This wasn't his area of expertise. 

His eyes darted around nervous at the rest of the kids. They would be fine if he left them alone for a minute right? They were old enough to know right from wrongs? Right?

He gave them a slightly concerned glance before carefully stepping around them, giving the toddler a wide breadth. Once he had safely retreated to the other side of the room ignoring Bob's pouty but slightly confused glance. 

He slipped out of the room scrambling to his bedroom, pulling the old basket out of the top of his closet. He dumped it all out on the bed hoping to find a softer blanket. He had dumped all of the things from the house in this box. All the blankets Carol owned. 

His hand paused over the baby blue of Bradley’s baby blanket, his fingers trailing over his name and date of birth with a small smile.

He blinked back the tears and pushed past it, placing it carefully to the side as he looked deeper into the box. He had to have something here. Carole could have owned a blanket store with the amount she owned. He could have sworn there had been another box somewhere. 

He groaned in frustration as he tipped the box fully when his eyes caught an emerald green blanket, he dropped the basket in an attempt to catch it.

The soft fabric settled in his hand, he remembered this. Faintly. It had been a gift to Bradley from Goose, it was when they had been on a 8 month deployment. But Bradley had hated it for the moment he spotted it, resulting in it being buried deep in the basket. He ran his hand over the fabric absently bringing it to his cheek to rub against his skin he closed his eyes and let out a calm breath.

It was soft, perfectly so. Not a single stiff patch to find. Bob would love it, he didn’t bother 

repacking the blankets as he retreated to the main room blanket safely in his hand.

Bob was hiccuping tears sliding down his rosy cheeks as he stomped his foot, Slider was standing in front of the toddler on the edge of a melt down looking panicked. He was staring at Bob wide eyed looking terrified. The man’s head shot up to him when he entered “Where have you been?”

“Getting this” Mav shoved the blanket off and Bob looked at it curiously. His cheeks were flushed red as the tears trailed down them, his eyes were slightly swollen and his classes were fogged up.he breathed in shakily in a half breath that made Mav frown in concern, it sounded wet. It shouldn't be like that. The boy sounded slightly congested. 

He chuckled lightly, kneeling down next to him, “Here you go. That’s better isn’t it?” He smiled as Bob took the blanket in replacement as his abandoned one, pulling it close to his face.

Maverick winced as Bob whipped his face with his dieting it with snot. “Oh no let us-“ he paused at the look Bob gave him, he backed off slightly “No. It’s ok, I’m not going to take it from you” he sighed.

Gently reaching out to take Bob’s glasses, they would need to get them resized, or at least a new pair. He rubbed the lenses with the bottom of his shirt silently tememind himself to get a proper glasses cleaner rag so he didn’t risk damaging the lenses.

He placed the loose but now clean lenses on the boy's face watching him blink and smile slightly at the color of the blanket.

“You like green?”.

Bob nodded slightly pulling Nat closer to rub the blanket on her skin. She sat silently watching, letting him, content as long as he was happy. 

“I like green too,” he said softly with a smile, not noticing that Slider had abandoned him once again to return to the kitchen. He didn’t notice the small smile Wood had as he ducked his head out to look. The two men gave him time to connect with his kids.

They were still the daggers, he reminded himself. They were just smaller now. Younger. More sensitive.

No more war stories, he decided. He didn’t want to be at the end of Goose's unhappy scowl. These kids may not have a Goose but they sure as hell had an Ice. He was far more terrifying. 

Did you notice anything wrong with him? He seemed different. Distant. Woods' concern echoed through his head. 

He worried his lip between his teeth, it had been a while. It had been a while since he had seen Ice in person,the man preferred to talk over messages or call and even then they were short and curt. Recently the man hadn't been answering at all, taking weeks for a simple good morning message. 

Was something going on?

//

Wolf grinned around the pacifier, he wiggled his eyebrows at Ice. “They really do taste like nipples, we should get some of these for home”. 

Ice ran a tried hand down his face “Get that out of your mouth before someone sees you”. He turned his attention back to the row of bottles, would they already be weaned of them? 

His eyes narrowed when Wolf became suspiciously quiet. The man couldn’t shut up a minute ago. “Put it back,” he snapped at the man without turning. 

He heard an annoyed huff of breath and then the tell tale sign of shoving being shoved back into the shelf. Wolf pushed his trolley past pouting as he muttered to himself. 

Ice wearily turned back to the aisle he rolled his eyes at the sight of a box filled with pacifiers shoved onto the shelf hastily. This had to be worse than shopping with a toddler. 

He wasn't sure what he had expected, bringing the man into a shop like this, a place that literally had the word nipple on every box.

It was like asking for a terrible dad joke. He thought he would have been safe due to the man's horribly hidden homosexuality.

Unfortunately that didn't prevent the man from taking every opportunity to make Ice regret bringing him. 

//

Slider yawned as he laid his head on his hand heavily against the kitchen table, keeping one eye on the kids. Maverick had dozed off on the couch half an hour ago, since Rueben, Bradley and Mickey had joined him in some odd puppy pile. The three boys are sleeping around the man. 

Wood shook his head in amusement sharing a small grin with Slider who tiredly gave him a lazy wave, looking close to nodding off himself. They were not young anymore, not as much as they were. 

Wood checked the oven, studying the potato gems carefully before turning off the oven and pulling them out, careful not to burn himself using the tea towels to place the tray on the cutting board on the bench. Slapping Slider’s hand away from the hot food as he shut the oven door. 

He heard yelp and a spluttered cure from behind him and sighed, “It's hot” he said dryly. 

Why did Mav even have potato gems in his freezer to begin with, he was an adult?

He heard small feet run on the ground and gave Slider a meaningful look, the man sighed before walking off to investigate the  sound. Wood placed the hot food into four separate bowls for the kids, some of them could share.

He squinted when he saw Slider walking around with a large grin on his face, dear lord what did he do now?

There was something hanging off of Slider's arm. The man had it flexed out like a monkey bar, was that? No. That couldn't be Bradley. Wasn't he asleep just moments ago? If Slider woke the kid just so hee had someone to play with he was going to murder someone. A 6ft tall someone. 

He had forgotten how energetic Bradley used to be at this age. 

Slider was walking around with a kid hanging off him. Wood squinted was that Bradley? Dear lord, he had forgotten how energetic the kid used to be. 

He rolled his eyes, nothing he could do about it now, he’ll just rat the man out to Ice when he got back. He wondered how they were going, if they were having any better luck then they were here. At least Ice got Wolf, if only he could trade Slider or Mav for Wolf, then he would have someone useful as well as an eye candy to look at. 

Once he was confident the food wasn’t too hot he carefully balanced three bowls in his arms as he started distributing them. Placing a bowl in front of Natasha and Bob who had curled up in his blanket looking somewhat like a burrito and yet had somehow managed to drape some of the blanket over Natasha’s lap. She looked oddly possessive over the corner of the blanket she had been given. He steered clear of it as he dropped a bowl off with Bradley who barely wasted any time rushing over at the promise of food, abandoning Slider who pouted at the loss of play partner. 

He placed a bowl with Reubon who was sitting just in front of the other group of boys playing with the cards that had been left by some trying to spread them as far across the floor as he could. 

He dreaded having to find them all later, he placed the last bowl in front of Jake and Javy, leaving some space between them due to Javys critical gaze. They didn't trust them, he knew that. He didn't want to provoke them. He nodded his head over to Reuben when Mickey frowned.  

Jake was flipping through a book, he wasn't sure where the boy had gotten it from, but Javy seemed content pressing buttons on the remote randomly until it hit the children's channel. The boy stared at it nudging Jake who scrowled before sitting and watching with him passing the book off to Micky who beamed at the boy. 

The two boys happily eat the food in front of them watching the cartoon as Mickey flipped through the book occasionally, waving his hands in Jake's face who leaned back with a troubled look when the boy attempted to get his attention and started babbling at him.

When Jake made no attempt to talk back to him he frowned, and got up to get food from his shared bowl with Reuben before sitting back over with Jake trying to communicate by pushing the book between them pointing at the boat on the page. 

“Bakaner- Bakeneer” Mickey screwed his face up in frustration as he butchered the world.

Slider turned to look at him in confusion, dragging his phone in an attempt to figure out what the boy was saying. 

“Backaner” Mickey huffed jabbing the book beige pointing at Jake. Jake tilted his head silently watching the boy. 

Slider let out a laugh of amusement, “Buccaneer” he attempted to pronounce, apparently well enough that Mickey cheered. 

Vibrating in experiment as he pointed to Jake and the ship “Bukaner! Bankener!”.

Slider shook his head, “No, no bud, he's not a pirate. No Buccaneer”. 

Mickey stared him down determinedly pointing at Jake, “Bukaner!” He said firmly, crossing his arms.

Slider smiled, relenting “Ok Jake is Buccaneer” he huffed. 

Mickey beamed in excitement, “Jake. Bukaner! Bukaner steal! Rich!” he wiggled in excitement. 

Slider's eyes widened. “Wait no-'' he groaned at the annoyed look Wood gave him. “Look” he tried to defend himself “You went much of a help either”.

[astarab1aze]

“I don’t think I can hold anymore-“ she can loux, she can.

something depraved

"D'aww, baby... Don' tell me yer quittin' on me awready?" he cooed, purring with all the delighted fervor of a satisfied fox.

The expression she made as she whined, full to the brim with already far too much cum, some was beginning to spill out of her between puffy lips - oh, it drove him wild, made him power through even the most turbulent of orgasms to deliver more than she could readily take. He wanted her to unravel, he wanted her desperate and wheezy, arching her spine and shaking her hips back into his own as though she'd just die without him stuffing her full, so achingly focused on making her cum from the prospect of having even more of his - hot and sticky - fucked as deeply into her as he could manage, and then some. He wasn't going to let her walk away without it streaming down her thighs, but, then again, he might not let her walk away at all - keep himself buried inside her until morning, prevent it from leaking out instead.

He grasped at her wrists and leaned forward, pinning them to the bed above her head so he might bite and kiss at her chest without intereference, lips and teeth catching on tender peaks. He hooked an arm around one of her thighs and pushed it further, readjusting slightly, and driving himself deeper, so careful not to bang on her cervix - he wasn't an idiot, he knew how that felt. But he kept going, going and going, stuttering his hips and switching between slow and fast, hard and gentle, always hoping to pinpoint and hammer on her g-spot instead. He wanted her to see stars, he wanted to press on that spot on her stomach the moment he found it, heighten the pleasure, make her go insane, and he wanted to bite and suck and kiss her breasts all the while. He wanted to leave his marks on every bend and curve of her body so she and everyone else would know exactly who she belonged to, who could really make her cum.

And all that rich purple hair, framing her blushing face, sweat slick skin, and the howling moans he drew from her- He couldn't stop himself, chasing her high, rutting into her as if his life depended on it, lost in the quivering shine of her lips and the flutter of her folds around his cock. She felt so good, tight and narrow yet conforming to his shape, heavenly, so...juicy, wet, squelching with a combination of her heady slick and his cum, a slew of filthy praises tumbling out of his mouth in a lazy, drooly mix of Spanish, French, and English. Flicking his tongue across her nipple and biting just a smidge, losing his focus and releasing her hands, instead pushing other leg up by the knee and angling her hips up. He stalled a moment to catch his breath, letting out a strangled sigh.

"Ya feel so good, Loni," he said, groaning every word into her skin, breathless and wanting. "An' yer bein' so good fer me... Takin' all o' me, swallowin' me up like ya do. All 'at cum. If we ain't careful, I migh' - really breed ya. Fuck it all int' ya... Haa, don' tha' sound good, ma cheri? Don'cha wanna cum wit all o' me inside ya? Be a good girl fer jus' a lil longer, 'kay?"

[writefightandflightclub]

Too much information (Frankie Morales x GN reader)

Summary: you’re dating Frankie in secret, and Pope is on to you. Brunch probably isn’t the best place to put his interrogation skills to use, but do you really think that’s going to stop him?! No, me neither.

Author’s note: this is just a quick, silly, shortish blurb. Nothing special but the scene popped into my head and then my finger slipped, so here you go. It’s mainly between reader and Pope, but you are dating Frankie and he does appear.

Warnings: not really. Food mention.

GIF by @themarcusmoreno

“Is that ‘Fish’s t-shirt?” Pope asks bluntly, as he settles into the booth opposite you, the group gradually gathering for lunch. You had arrived first, and begun perusing the menu.

“Normal people might shoot for a hello,” you josh, standing and leaning over the table to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, that too,” he grins. “Well, is it?”

Before you retake your seat, you take a quick look down at the garment in question. A marled-grey band shirt.

“No,” you answer adamantly, crinkling your face in confusion. “It’s not.”

“You sure?” Pope presses, and he leans in, resting on his folded arms. His stare is intense, and you suddenly feel like you’re in an interrogation. You suddenly feel very sorry indeed for his prior subjects, considering this is a mere taster of the intensity they were subjected to.

“Yes,” you say in a level voice, looking him dead in the eye.

“Hmm,” he nods, considering it, his hand rasping over his stubble. He takes a menu too, from the stash at the far-end of the booth. You hope he’s dropping the topic, but no such luck. “See. You already made one mistake,” he breezes, and you squirm in your seat. “You checked. You looked down, as if it could be Frankie’s t-shirt.”

You saw your jaw from side-to-side.

“Which I’m pretty sure it is,” he adds with a flourish of his hand, his eyes flashing with a smug pride.

“It’s not,” you snap, staring him down until he raises his hands in surrender.

“Okay.”

Finally. You look down at the menu, selecting your burger and milkshake combo. But he’s not done yet. Of course. Air seethes out out your nose. “Looks like his though. Doesn’t really fit you either. Not really your usual style,” he muses, as if ticking off a checklist in his head.

You huff, and look back up at him. “You have too much time on your hands, Pope. How’s that job-hunt coming? Or, actually, when did you last get laid? Think you need to find somewhere to direct all this excess energy.”

You should have said yes. Should have made-up an excuse about how you needed to borrow some clothes. Because it definitely is Frankie’s t-shirt.

He knows it. But if you admit it is Frankie’s t-shirt, at this point, you are admitting a whole lot more besides.

“Now now. No need to get personal.” You wish you could knock the shit-eating grin off his face. “Just answer the question.”

“This is how I wear my clothes now,” you say, gesturing down at yourself. It’s flimsy and you know it.

“Okay.”

You’re really starting to hate the way he says that.

He’s quiet for a beat, and you think he may have given up, but, to your ire, apparently not. Instead, Pope leans over the table and presses his nose right into your shoulder, taking a whiff. “Kinda smells like his detergent too.”

You pull back from him in disbelief. He recognises his detergent? “That’s fucked up, Pope. Why are you so obsessed with Frankie?”

Your comments don’t seem to rile him. Instead, Pope’s eyes flash with a sudden knowledge.

Balls. That was your second mistake. You called him “Frankie”. Not “‘Fish”. Fuck. You flare your nostrils in annoyance and only hope that Pope missed it.

“Well? Explain that. Why does it smell like... Frankie?” No chance that he missed it, then?

“Guess we use the same brand,” you dismiss, propping your chin on one of your hands as you continue to review the specials, in an attempt to obscure your face.

“Uh-huh. Okay.” You bristle. There it is again. Maybe he simply irritates all of his subjects into confessing. He’s certainly irritating enough for that to be plausible. “So, let’s recap, shall we? You dress like him now, and use his detergent? Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“He’s a role model for us all, pendejo.”

He ticks up an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed by your insult.

“Pendejo?”

“And I really mean that,” you say, with a saccharine smile, even as you reach across and bat his cap from his head with a quick boop under the brim.

He half rolls his eyes at you, and yet you can tell he’s biting back a smile as he scoops it up from where it landed and places it by his side on the seat.

“So you weren’t at his place last night?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” and refusing to look-up.

“Didn’t arrive together and stagger your entry to avoid being caught? Because I’m pretty sure his truck’s parked out front and yours... isn’t. And yet here you are, and here he’s not.”

Well. You don’t have an answer for that one. Not right away.

Pope grins smugly, enjoying that he’s getting under your skin.

Shit, where is Frankie? Where are the Millers? Literally anyone. Pope evidently thinks you’re the weak link while you’re alone, and you’re not doing a whole lot to prove him wrong.

“I walked here,” you say weakly.

Pope even goes so far as to dip his head under the table.

“In those boots? Don’t they kill your feet?”

Well at least he was paying attention when the boys made you walk all the way across town that time, to get to this one “must-visit” dive bar. Kinda sweet he remembered actually. Unless, of course, he simply gathers information to use it against you, during times like this, for example.

Eyes drawn away from the booth, you finally see Frankie walk through the door, and you let out a breath of relief. Still, as Pope raises a thick eyebrow at you, examining every expression on your face, you try to avoid looking at Frankie altogether, just so you don’t give anything away.

Pleasantly oblivious, Frankie comes in and settles right next to you in the booth.

“Hey,” he says brightly to the both of you, before smiling at you a little too long, and so -subtly but pointedly- you bump his knee with yours to alert him to play it a little cool. He doesn’t get the memo. Instead, he points down at your torso, without thinking. “Is that my t-shirt?”

Your eyes flutter closed to the sound of a smug, victorious laugh from Pope. Groaning, you put your head in your hands, peeking at your interrogator through your fingers. You watch him lean back in the booth, raising his arms to rest his head on his interlaced fingers, and a smug grin extending over his face.

“Fucking knew it.”

Quickly putting it together, with a gasp of breath, Frankie realises what he’s said. He quickly tries to smooth it over with some elaborate excuse, but you place your hand on his denim-clad thigh and gently shake your head. “He knows, Frankie,” you sigh. “He’s on to us. Basically interrogated me.”

There is a heated and mile-a-minute exchange between the two men in Spanish, and it sounds animated but is clearly somewhat good-natured, typical of their dynamic. Then, Frankie turns back to you. “You know how to shut him up, though?” he smiles. “Give him too much information.”

And he’s not wrong. As soon as Frankie begins to start describing a list of hypothetical activities from last night in vivid detail, Santi quickly holds his hands up in defeat. “Woah, Buddy. Alright. I get it. Fuck.”

Honestly - these two. You roll your eyes, even as you shake out a laugh.

“Hell. I need a drink,” you express, and you step away to the bar, leaving your interrogation behind for a moment.

As you look on though, it seems like poor Frankie’s interrogation is only just beginning.

“So, how long has this been happening?” Santi asks warmly.

“How long do you think?” Frankie asks out of curiosity- wanting to assess Pope’s abilities.

The man weighs it up, his hand smoothing over his stubble. “One month, give or take.”

“Three,” Frankie confirms, a hint of pride flashing in his soft, brown eyes as he realises you’ve outdone Pope, even for a little while.

In contrast though, victory is suddenly the last thing on Pope’s mind, and he’s more concerned with how damn happy his friend looks as he reveals this information. Pope mirrors Frankie’s wide, beaming smile, and he reaches across the table to deliver a few solid, congratulatory pats to his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man.”

Frankie’s smile lingers, and he steals a sweeping glance over at you as you lean-up against the bar, his eyes shining as he takes you in.

“How’s it going between you? This a serious thing or just fucking?” Pope asks, although he could hazard a pretty safe guess.

Frankie’s hands disappear into the sleeves of his cord jacket, and his eyelashes flutter bashfully. “I’m in love, man. I’m in some deep shit.”

Santi smiles, tapping Frankie on the arm and giving him a heads-up that you’re on your way back over with the drinks.

You smile brightly at him from across the way, and Pope looks between the two of you. Frankie certainly does look like a goner, he considers.

“Plus - shit,” Frankie adds quickly, in the moment before you come back into earshot. “Seeing them in my t-shirt is Doing Things for me, man.”

“Hermano,” he chuckles. “That’s too much information.”

You arrive back to the table to the sound of Frankie’s delightfully throaty chuckle - your second favourite sound in the world (since hooking-up, you have found one noise he makes which is even better). As you slide in beside the boys, you see the doors swing as the Millers enter the establishment in tandem.

You gaze at Frankie for a few moments, and you steal a final glance back at Pope. He’s still looking at you, but now he looks satisfied, as if he’s put a final piece of the puzzle together.

You don’t know it, but Pope’s suddenly deeply happy for his friends. He has the final piece of information, and to him, it’s quite plain to see. You’re clearly in love; and you’re evidently a complete goner for Frankie too.

“Hey, Millers- did you know these two are hooking-up in secret?” Pope asks loudly as the brothers join you around the table.

Well - he’s got it partly right. You are hooking-up, but it obviously isn’t a secret anymore.

You could care less.

When Frankie takes your hand under the table, giving it a little squeeze, you can’t help the smile which lights your face. Suddenly, you can’t help wanting to tell the whole world that Frankie is your man. And, what better people to begin with than your squad?

[helianskies]

For the ask: Turkspa, with the prompt wine

how could i resist? a fun ship, a fun prompt, and... my mind went places hehe,, and just to add to the fun: having received another prompt that i thought paired nicely with this one, welcome to part 1 of a 2-part.. *thing*! i hope you enjoy hehehe this may be a bit different to what we expected... <3

part 2 (turkport 👀) is now here!

wordcount: 2.3k ⠀ ⠀ rating: teen+

A Matter of Taste

He tastes of Moscatel.

It is something sweet, with floral, fruity notes—jasmine and orange blossom, lime and grapefruit—and it is strong. Antonio likes it. Thoroughly enjoys it, even. And he endeavours to continue tasting it throughout the night, if he can—or maybe even into the morning. 

Sadık sits underneath Antonio. Following a lovingly prepared three-course dinner (Sadık likes to spoil him), they had relocated to the living room with the remainder of their wine for the evening, and after idle chatter, now find themselves engaging in more intimate activities. One of Antonio’s hands holds his glass; the other holds Sadık’s face as he continues to take deep, lasting sips of his new favourite drink. His new favourite drug.

The way they collide has a constantly changing rhythm—staccato, andante, pianissimo—Antonio doesn’t even recall if those are the correct terms (but then, music is about feel, about emotion, not about tiny, bossy words on a page)—and when he pulls away once more, he both regrets it, yet feels utterly divine. He briefly sucks on his lips, trying to capture as many drops of Sadık’s Moscatel as he possibly can. He smiles. Sadık’s hand slips back around from the nape of his neck, his fingers lightly drag and tickle across his jawline, and then vanish altogether as he rests on the arm of the sofa.

“So,” the other says, “you said you fancied dessert?”

“We already had dessert,” Antonio replies quizzically. Dessert had been a citrus tart of sorts—a perfect pairing to the wine they now drink—and if he’s being honest, Antonio isn’t sure he could face more food; when Sadık cooks, he cooks, and not a single atom of space is left free in the stomach (though, he hardly minds). “You can’t still be hungry, cariño.”

There’s a pause. Antonio can sense the other thinking away, no doubt debating how to play it smooth so that they decide to move from the living room to the bedroom without much faffing in between. Not that Antonio needs much persuading. He never has, and never will. And especially not with such a sweet treat on offer… 

And then, Antonio receives another little taste of Moscatel—a sip delivered right to his lips—and Sadık says, “Just a bit peckish,” and Antonio knows that he really has fallen in love with the world’s biggest book of dad jokes. But he doesn’t mind. It keeps things fun, light-hearted, and such a childish humour balances out the more… adult things they get up to elsewhere.

Antonio loves him. He’s been saying it for a while, both privately and to Sadık’s face (when he’s not busy making out with him). But how can he not? There is a new flavour in his life, and after having spent far too long entertaining palate-cleansers, Antonio is keen to savour it for as long as possible; Sadık cooks him dinner, Sadık cleans, Sadık even sets the table with fresh flowers and a spiced candle because he knows that the little romantic gestures make Antonio weak at the knees.

It is important to him that Sadık knows it. That he feels it. So, Antonio kisses him again—more than a peck, but just shy of a snog—and he carefully slides off of Sadık’s lap, careful not to spill his drink in the process. 

“Come on, then,” he says, extending a hand to the other, waiting for him to take it and stand up, “if you still need something to eat, I think I have just the snack.”

“Spanish, by any chance?”

“Oh, of course. But,” Antonio presses, “I can promise you that it’s something you’ll only find here. A… house special, if you will.”

“In which case,” Sadık responds, “how can I refuse?”

•°. 🍷 *࿐

He tastes of Tempranillo.

It is a pleasant, medium wine, which retains a fruity flavour and ages quite well, whilst also providing a smoother, softer, lingering taste. Antonio doesn’t mind it. In fact, he appreciates the universality of it, and the delicate notes of the cooler, earthy North. 

Sadık had decided they should have a trip to the coast. Antonio was more than happy to go along with such a suggestion, and they now sit at a restaurant on the beachfront, a bottle of wine and a calm silence sitting between them. 

The silence, Antonio believes, is merely the product of good food and the preceding kiss that subsequent talking would perhaps sour. In the meantime, the scenery surrounding them is equally as attention-stealing; Antonio finds himself staring at the sea, watching the little waves curl over and froth as tourists both domestic and international traipse along the sand. He almost wants to be down there, to feel the grains beneath his feet and the icy tickle of seawater, but a glance over at Sadık shows that he is still stuck in whatever daydream has his eyes fixed on his glass. 

It is… almost amusing.

“I hope what you’re thinking about is either when we should think about heading home, or whether or not you want to annoy people with more PDA,” Antonio light-heartedly remarks, just before he allows more Tempranillo to slip down the hatch. Effortless. Easy. “Either way, I’d love to know.”

Sadık gives a soft laugh—a puff of air from his nose. “Sorry,” he says, his gaze lifting and meeting Antonio’s. The Spaniard is glad, and he smiles back at the other as cherry notes warm the back of his throat. “Did you want to go soon?”

“I dunno,” Antonio replies. “Traffic won’t be too bad, but I also… kinda want to stay for a bit longer. I forgot how nice it can be, to be so close to the sea.”

“‘S why I suggested it. I thought you’d enjoy it,” Sadık muses, sneaking in a quick sip of his wine before continuing: “Certainly beats your little obsession with mountain hikes and viñedos.”

“What, are you trying to tell me you don’t actually like going on hikes or wine tours with me?” Antonio asks with a soft pout. He isn’t sure if Sadık is joking with him or not, but regardless, it… doesn’t make him feel great, to think that his ideas for couple activities are not, in fact, enjoyed by both parties. It makes him feel a bit uneasy, in fact. 

A gush of Tempranillo graces his taste buds, soothes his throat, calms his mind. 

“No, no, I do,” Sadık insists to a sceptical partner, a honeyed smile on his face as his hand finds Antonio’s indulging him with that subtle affection (but the Spaniard wonders if Sadık is also not a fan of public gestures, contrary to Antonio, and if he does this for Antonio’s benefit rather than his own. Does that make him selfless, or…?). “It’s just nice to do something a bit different, don’t you think? I love the walks we go on, canım, but I also love the sea. I just want you to love it the same way.”

“I do love it,” Antonio assures him. If Sadık believes otherwise, he doesn’t say. Instead, he lifts Antonio’s hand up and kisses his knuckles—disarming—and quietly informs him that he loves him, too. 

Antonio’s chest swells. His gaze turns away and returns to the sea. His heart skips across the waves in the distance. He continues to drink his Tempranillo as Sadık’s thumb strokes over the top of his hand, but the flavour has waned and the notes are less melodic and smooth. Perhaps the wine has been out for too long…

•°. 🍷 *࿐

He tastes of Albariño.

Light, somewhat acidic, slightly bitter, and refreshing. It is by no means Antonio’s favourite—he is not so big on white wine—but it is palatable, and he is not one to turn down a glass of anything when all he knows is that alcohol will improve his mood.

“So,” Sadık begins as he continues to stir the pot of whatever fish dish he has plucked from a cookbook—an… attempt to cheer Antonio up; “work was so bad that you went straight for the wine, huh?”

“Hardly the first time,” Antonio quips, before helping himself to another healthy swig.

The comment has appeared because Antonio got home only minutes before and, rather than immediately greeting Sadık with the usual kiss or hello, he had first located the bottle, cracked it open, poured them both a drink, insisted that they did the whole ‘cheers!’ thing, and had proceeded to empty half a glass. Then he had kissed Sadık. And apparently that warrants a jab, however light it may be.

“What is today? Co-workers getting you down, or is your boss being an ass again?” Sadık asks him. 

He answers with a, “Both,” before even thinking about his response. More Albariño trickles right on down his throat. “I just don’t understand how such incompetent people are put into positions of authority. Forget our boss, the managers can’t manage for shit, and we have to keep picking up the slack. I’m sick and tired of it…”

Sadık hums. “I’m sorry it’s not going great at the moment,” he says, “but maybe it’ll get better. We’re all allowed our rough days.”

“Sure thing,” Antonio scoffs. “We’re allowed to have rough days, until we’re threatened with HR because we’re not hitting targets,” but it’s not really something he wants to think about. Such a threat came his way today; he almost screamed at his team leader for trying to shift the blame. A rough day indeed…

Still, hoping to move away from the subject, Antonio returns to Sadık as the other continues to cook. His hand slides up his back and up to his shoulder where it rests, docile, before Antonio sets his head atop the pile. I love you, he says, not quite able to hold back a fatigued sigh, before he nuzzles against his own hand and stares at the tiled wall. Sadık does not speak straight away. The silence is not unwelcome. Nor is it of any comfort to Antonio, who finds it… unusual, vaguely disconcerting. But it is only more tiring to comment on, so he leaves it, and pulls away again to find solace in his wine. 

Coincidentally, Sadık finds his tongue only moments later: “Speaking of work,” his voice calls across the kitchen as Antonio bites back a harsh groan, “I’ve been asked to go away on business for a few days next week to one of our other offi—”

“Where?”

Sadık pauses and looks at Antonio, who finds it somewhat irritating to repeat such a simple question:

“Where are you going?” he reiterates, and adds: “Will it be for long?”

Seeming to understand the question, this time, Sadık shakes his head and continues to stir. “Five days.” Five days is long, though… “The office is in Lisbon.”

“I see…”

“Do you mind?”

Antonio shrugs. “Work is work,” he replies. “You have to do whatever makes the higher-ups happy, and keeps the money coming in, Sadık.”

“Right. Right,” the other agrees, though whatever it is he is agreeing to, Antonio is not entirely convinced it is his own words, but unspoken thoughts. “Who knows, I could even get a promotion. Wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

And there is nothing more to say. Antonio nurses his glass, having made himself comfortable on a stool at the counter, and he simply watches as Sadık carries on in his own little world, tasting the food, adding seasoning, stirring around and around and around and around. 

Albariño is a bitter wine. It is crisp, cold, citric. But maybe that is not a bad thing, either.

•°. 🍷 *࿐

He tastes of Bairrada.

Bairrada is a rich, deep red wine produced in the Beiras region of Portugal. It is acidic and annoyingly dry. There’s little else to note about it, other than the fact that Antonio doesn’t even like Bairrada wine. Not at all. But Sadık does, it would seem, and as Antonio closes the door behind his boyfriend as he returns home from his third trip to Lisbon that month, he wonders when such a taste was acquired…

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Sadık announces. 

“Oh?” Antonio responds, trying to keep up appearances—trying to smile despite the way his stomach churns and his insides knot into impossibly tight forms. “What— What is it?”

There is a pause. An inhale. A proud grin breaks out onto Sadık’s face as he says, “I’ve had a promotion. In Lisbon. They want me to work there on a... more permanent basis.”

Antonio, however, feels his smile tremble and falter. “In Lisbon?” he repeats. “As in, Portugal?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I know, it’s… it’s a bit crazy,” Sadık says, a semi-nervous laugh escaping him. Dooming him. “They said they’d give me a week to think about it, but, I dunno… it could be a really, really good opportunity.”

Antonio is well aware of the fact. He is well aware of how wonderful it would be, to work away across a border and only come home to him on the weekends, but he knows this pattern.

Coming home every weekend will turn into every other weekend. Then every other weekend will turn into once a month. Then once a month will turn into a phone call to apologise for not being there, but he has to work overtime to make up for some last minute business deal, and ‘I’m sorry, Anto, but I’ll try to be there next weekend instead—I promise!’ but it will be a lie. It will all be a lie, and there will be nothing that Antonio can do about it.

As a child, Antonio had not understood that pattern. But as an adult, he is not so sure he will tolerate it. So if Lisbon wants Sadık so badly, so desperately, then the whole damn city will have to pry him from Antonio’s cold, dead han—

“What do you think, canım? I mean, I know it’s very sudden and that it would affect both of us, but I—”

“What I think, Sadık,” Antonio states as he stands up straighter, neatens up his smile, and eases his tone, “is that you and I should celebrate. A nice, big glass of wine and your favourite home cooked meal to celebrate all of your hard, hard work…”

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

A King’s Ransom, Part Ten

Word Count:  6347

TW:  Injuries; technically kidnapping; speculation about past trauma; the beginning of smut.  18+ only.

AN:  Part of an unfinished series.  The series masterlist here.

You walked out of the ring and the crowd parted as you passed through it.  Nevada gestured to his men to follow you and not lose sight of you.  He struggled through the crowd himself but managed to keep his eyes on your back, on your tight braid that had loosened over the course of the fight.

You walked out of the rowdy fight area into a quieter part of the warehouse.  Nevada followed you to an old bathroom that had been converted into a sort of locker room.  He kept his distance, holding back in the shadows by the door.  He watched you take a bottle of water and pour it over one hand and then the other, rinsing off the worst of your opponent’s blood.  You shook your hands and wiped them along your thighs.  Then he watched you grip the edge of the grimy sink as you pressed your forehead against the mirror, sighing shakily.

The quiet moment only lasted a moment.  Nevada heard a scuffle in the hallway, and he turned to see his guys holding a small man, oily and slick as an otter, away from the doorway.

The man scanned between Nevada’s face and his men’s faces, and whatever he saw there, he decided that Nevada was in charge.  

“She in there?” he asked.  He had an accent, Scottish or maybe Irish.  It made sense, Nevada figured.  He was comfortable in the Heights with its glut of Spanish, but places like this shitty warehouse brought scum from all corners of the earth.  He had heard numerous foreign languages and accents in his brief time here.  All colors, all creeds.  A fucking United Nations of vicious animals.

“Who the fuck is asking?” Nevada pushed the edges of his leather jacket back as he put his hands on his hips.

The oily man put his hands up in mock surrender.  “I just collect and deliver.  An banríon bán got a helluva payout this go.”

Nevada knitted his eyebrows together.  “What the fuck did you call her?”

The man smiled.  “No one knows her name.  She turned up the first night in a white sweatshirt.  Showed the blood real nice.”  His grin widened.  “From both fights, that night.  And she had her hair pinned in a braid around her head like a crown.  People started calling her ‘the White Queen.’  An banríon bán.”

White Queen  – that made him snort.  Nevada could hardly make out what was English and what was Irish around the man’s lilting accent.  He didn’t have time to consider the linguistic integrity of Spanish though.  You stepped out of the makeshift locker room, a gym bag crossed over your chest.  Nevada turned to see your confusion as you took in the scene:  him, his men, the oily man.

“Darlin’,” the man said.  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out one roll, and then another of hundred dollar bills.  “These cocksuckers haven’t learned not to bet against you yet.”  Nevada’s eyes widened a fraction at the take.  He should get out of the drug game and just bet on you.  His little prize-fighter.

You took the money from him with a curt nod.  “Thanks, Jack.”

He returned your nod with a quick salute.  “Anytime, darlin.’”  Nevada felt a surge of hatred for the man and his fucking pet-names for you, and Jack seemed to feel it because he scampered off.  Nevada turned to face you.

You looked at him, but your eyes weren’t really tracking, and he knew instantly that you were hurt.  He remembered the ringing blow to the side of your head, and before he could stop himself, he reached out to cup your chin.  You flinched slightly but let him, and he turned your head as gently as he could.  He winced at the bruise that was already forming along your cheekbone and the hollow of your cheek.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked, and Nevada winced again at the drunk quality of your voice.  Before he could answer though, you turned away from him, a little unsteady.  “I need to go,” you told him.

“You’re in no state to drive,” he replied sternly.  He reached out and took your elbow.  You wavered against him, and he used the opportunity to wind his arm around your waist and steady you.  He sent a guy to bring the Escalade around, and he led you outside.  The cold air braced him, but it seemed to make you less steady on your feet.  You staggered against him, and if he weren’t so worried, he’d be able to enjoy the press of your body against his.

The SUV pulled up and he hustled you into it, feeling his stomach twist with every whimper of pain you made as you climbed in.  At least you weren’t fighting him.  For the first time since he fucking met you, you were listening to him.  But he didn’t like it as much as he thought he would.  Not if the price was you moaning in pain and probably concussed.

Nevada leaned into the front seat and gave Gabe orders.  “Drive to her place in Inwood, and have Sophia meet us there.  Have her bring her big bag.  Then call this one’s roommate and tell her to expect us.”  Nevada leaned back and focused on you.

You were slumped in your seat, and your head lolled back against the leather headrest.  Your eyes were heavy-lidded and half-shut, and Nevada felt a flare of irritation at you.  

“Don’t fall asleep,” he barked, snapping his fingers in your face until your eyelids fluttered open and you tried to focus on him.  “You can’t sleep if you have a concussion.”

You smiled at him but there was no humor in it.  “I never sleep.”  Your eyes rolled up to stare at the ceiling of the SUV.  “Why are you here?” you asked, echoing your earlier question.

“Why are you here?” he snapped back.  “Why the fuck are you trying to get yourself killed in some stupid fucking fight club?  Is it the money?  You need fucking money, but you’re too good to take mine?”  The floodgates in him broke, and he saw the familiar red around his field of vision.  He ranted at you, his sight blurred by rage.  He started at the beginning, when you gave him fucking attitude when he was just trying to buy you a drink.  

He worked through it all, touching on everything that ever irritated him about you.  Your snarky fucking attitude.  Your stupid fucking smiles.  Your modest fucking outfits, how you teased him and turned him on and kept him leashed like a fucking dog.  

He finished with the present, and how you refused to even hear his fucking apology, even though he never apologized, especially not to some mouthy bitch like you.  And here he was, pulling himself and his best guys off of important fucking business to get you out of a situation where you could get seriously hurt, or worse yet, killed.  You owed him one, he told you, over and over.  You fucking owed him.

He finished, completely spent, and he turned to watch your reaction as the SUV pulled onto your street in Inwood.  He expected the usual smart-ass comment or smirk.  Instead, your eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling of the Escalade, your blinking slow to clear out the tears that gathered along your lower lashes.

“Next time, just stay in the Heights,” you whispered with a defeated shrug.  The SUV pulled in front of your house, and Nevada looked out the window to see Jules saying on the front porch, shivering in her pajamas with a coat thrown over her.

“That’s not what I…” he started, but you were fumbling for the door handle, your swollen fingers scrabbling against it.  He reached out to put his good hand on your arm just as you got the door open, and you slid away from him.

Gabe killed the engine as Nevada slid out after you, sticking close as you staggered up to your roommate.  Jules reached out and pulled you into a gentle hug to steady and comfort you.  She murmured something to you, and Nevada watched as the two of you walked into the house.  Jules looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with him, giving him a slight tilt of the head to invite him in.

He stood uncertainly in the entryway, surveying the place.  He’d only seen it from the outside.  Inside, it was like your fucking wardrobe.  The walls were a soft, dove grey.  The living room had a dark blue couch and chair opposite a giant flat-screen, and a soft-looking deep grey rug was stretched in front of a fireplace that looked functional.  

Nevada imagined lighting a fire in the hearth and stretching you out on that grey rug.  He imagined the way your skin might look in the flickering firelight.  He imagined licking into the hollow of your collarbones, tasting the salt of your skin.  You were always so warm when he touched you.  If he fucked you in front of a fire, you might combust altogether.

He pulled his thoughts away from the fantasy reluctantly, willing the bulge in his jeans away.  Now wasn’t the time.  Now he had to focus on the issue at hand.

There was a light knock at the door, and Nevada turned to let in Sophia.  She was a doctor at a local clinic, and she moonlighted as his own personal paramedic and patch-up service.  They had a fling, a million years ago when she was a resident at New York Presbyterian, and they had parted on amicable terms.  She was always a phone call away, ready to stitch him or one of his men up and give them paper bags of pain pills or antibiotics.

She nodded at him but surveyed the room with the practiced eye of a woman who was used to assessing the worst trauma in the room.  She honed in on you, walked over and knelt in front of where you sat on the couch.  You were slumped forward, and Jules was rubbing comforting circles on your back.  Nevada walked over and stood over the entire scene, watching like a hawk, his hands on his hips.

“How are you feeling?” Sophia asked you in her soothing E.R. voice.  “Rough night?”

You mumbled something incoherent, but Sophia just nodded.  “Well, I’m going to look you over and get you fixed up, okay?” she continued.  

Nevada watched as her slim fingers took your pulse.  Your eyes were half closed and stared off into the middle distance.

Sophia tilted your head and looked into your eyes with her penlight, and Nevada felt a pang when you winced and jerked your head away from her.  Sophia made a cooing noise, like an experienced farmer trying to calm a jittery horse.  Then she clucked, pressing her fingertips to the bruise on your face.

“Do you have any ice packs?” she asked Jules.  Your roommate stood up and went into another room, and Sophia continued her examination.  She helped you ease out of your track jacket, and then she helped you pull your tank top over your head.

Your tits were compressed and flattened by your incongruous bright pink sports bra, but Nevada’s eyes were pulled lower.  The soft skin of your belly was mottled, the red already turning a deep purple from where the punch had landed.  He was definitely going to find your opponent, and he was definitely going to kill him.  Slowly.

Sophia poked at that, making you whimper in pain, but she seemed satisfied by what she felt.  She took your hands in hers, running her own fingers over yours, drawing more groans from you.  Your fingers were swollen and red.  Nevada could see that they were stiff with inflammation.

Last, she knelt down with a pair of small, sharp scissors and cut up the inseam of your compression tights until she could see the bite mark.  She made a clucking noise at it and swabbed it with disinfectant.

Jules returned with the ice packs – an alarming number of them, in fact.  Nevada wondered why you had that many, prepped and ready to go, but he was starting to get the picture why.  

Sophia wrapped each of your hands in a pack, then she placed a big one against your belly.  The last one she handed to Nevada, gesturing for him to sit beside you and hold it to your face.  He obliged, and after the initial shock of the cold, you leaned into his touch with a sigh.

“Can you tell me your name?” Sophia asked you, and you mumbled your response.  She ran you through more questions, easy ones, and while your answers were slurred, they were all correct.

“It’s probably a second grade concussion,” she told both Nevada and Jules.  “She’ll recover with rest.  Same with the bruise to the abdomen.  I don’t feel anything to indicate any internal bleeding or ruptures.  There may be a cracked bone in the left hand, but I’d need to x-ray her to find out.”  She reached out and rubbed your arm reassuringly.  “Maybe take up yoga instead of bare-knuckle boxing, huh?”  You smiled at her tiredly, and it made Nevada relax just a fraction to see it.

Sophia reached down by her feet and into the bag she brought with her on these house calls.  She rustled around until she pulled out some pills.

“These,” she said, holding up a blister pack, “are antibiotics.  Take them exactly as the package says.  Take them all.  It’s for that nasty bite on your leg.”

“This,” she continued, holding up an orange bottle, “is ibuprofen.  Prescription-strength, so your taking one of these instead of four of the over-the-counter stuff.  For the inflammation and pain.  The best medicine is going to be sleep though.  Rest, relaxation.  No punches to the head, no more bites.”

“Concussed people can’t sleep,” Nevada broke in, but Sophia shook her head at him.

“It’s the best thing for them, actually.  Helps the brain heal.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you chimed in, your voice low and muttering.  “I never sleep.  I can’t sleep.”  You went to add more but gave a frustrated sigh that sounded dangerously like the beginning of tears.

Sophia gazed at you a moment, nodded, and reached back into her bed.  She pulled out another bottle.  “Sedative, mild.  Take exactly as the label says, only as needed.”

You shook your head at her sadly.  “I don’t take drugs.”

Jules snorted at you.  “She’s not giving you a baggie of heroin.  And you need to sleep.”  Your roommate glanced between Nevada and Sophia.  “I’ll take care of it,” she added sotto voce.

The group split up.  Jules led you upstairs to your room, getting you settled with all the pills and ice packs.  Nevada stayed downstairs with Sophia, asking idly about her brother’s schooling before pressing a wad of bills into her hand with his thanks.  She left, and Nevada wasn’t sure what to do.  Should he leave?  Wait for Jules?

He settled for waiting.  He was too keyed up to go home and sleep anyway; he needed time to process everything that had happened.  He wandered around the first floor, listening to the creaks above him as Jules helped you get ready for bed.  He heard her murmuring to you, and it he strained his ears, he thought he could make you out, crying.

Your shared home was lovely, in a subdued, elegant sort of way.  He felt wildly out of place.  He looked at your (and Jules’) movie collection.  He looked at the books on the shelves.  He poked through a pile of mail sitting on the counter of the kitchen, waiting for you.  Junk mail, mostly.  An electric bill.  Nothing worth snooping into.

He looped back into the living room and examined the framed photos on the mantle over the fireplace.  Most of the pictures were of Jules and, he assumed, her family.  Parents and an older sister, from the looks of it.  You were in a few of the pictures.

There was only one family photo of you though.  You were young, just a kid, with a woman standing behind you with her hands on your shoulders.  You had a toothy grin on your face, and your eyes were squinting against the sun.  The woman smiled too but looked tired around the eyes.  The two of you were standing on a porch of some shitty trailer.  Your clothes were clean but ragged and worn.  It was a far, far cry from your polished exterior now.

Nevada heard a sound behind him and saw Jules descending the stairs.  She saw him waiting.

“I snuck the sedative in with the ibuprofen, so hopefully she’ll sleep for a while.”

“What the fuck is wrong with her?” he asked, but she shrugged.

He tried a different question.  “Why does she do it?”

Jules shook her head but didn’t answer him.

Nevada felt his temper boiling up.  “What happened to her, then?” he asked.  “She beat the shit out of a guy and looked fucking feral when she did it.  That’s not normal.”

“That’s not my story to tell, Trujillo.”

He stepped past her and made his way toward the door.  “I don’t fucking care,” he snarled.  “She’s not my fucking problem.  I’ve got too much other shit going on to worry about some psycho fucking bitch.”  Jules sighed and followed him.

“She might not remember everything about tonight,��� she said as he pulled open the door and stepped out into the night.  “But I’ll make sure she knows who came and got her.  Who called a doctor for her.”  

“I said I don’t fucking care,” he said.  He turned away and climbed into the SUV, and he almost believed it himself.

*****

You cleared out your schedule for a few weeks and took the doctor’s advice to rest and relax.  You took the pills she had given you, even the sedative.  It did help you sleep.  If you woke up sweating and gasping, at least you didn’t remember whatever nightmare you had.

Eventually, you got bored.  You remembered that Nevada had stopped at Jules’ office and expressed interest in new, legitimate businesses.  You pulled together some stuff, did a bit of research, put it all into an envelope with the original business case you had given him.  You had a bit of crow to eat – you might as well go bearing some gifts while you were at it.

It was a Thursday night, so the club was doing a healthy business, but it wasn’t as crowded as the weekend.  You had vacillated on what to wear, but in the end, you just settled on jeans and a sweater.  There was no point turning up in a skimpy dress or a low-cut shirt, but you made sure to wear the jeans that made your ass look great.  And the sweater was cut to your form a bit, showcasing your breasts as much as a sweater could.

And you kept your hair mostly down, just keeping the sides out of your face with a pair of barrettes.

The bass was booming in the club, and it made you wince slightly.  Your concussion was mostly healed, you guessed, but bright lights and loud noises still set off some nerve in your head.  You squinted against the roving colored lights of the dance floor and waited for your eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the place.

You saw Nevada almost immediately.  He was in his usual place on his balcony, slumped in his chair like a king surveying his kingdom.  Only he was doing less surveying and more…well, socializing.  There was a girl sprawled across his lap, her head buried alongside his neck, and his hands buried…well, elsewhere.  You turned away quickly before he could see you or the inexplicable tears that sprung up in your eyes.  

You were not going to cry.  It was just some lingering side effect of the concussion.  Hell, hadn’t you spent the first week of your sabbatical crying at laundry detergent commercials during daytime television?  Didn’t you cry when the delivery place screwed up your order and sent you pizza with green peppers on it?  You were just emotional because your brain had been rattled.  

No other reason.  None.

You took a few deep, steadying breaths through your nose and then made your way to the bar.  The skinny bartender, Matteo, noticed you immediately.

“Hey!” he said.  “Coke with a lime wedge?”

You shook your head with a smile.  “Can I borrow a pen?”  He reached into his breast pocket and handed you one.  You pulled a sheet out of the manila envelope and added a note to the top margin.  Then you slid it back in and resealed it, handing the pen back to Matteo.  Then you handed the envelope to him too.

“See that Trujillo gets this, okay?”  You reached into your pocket and handed him a twenty for his efforts, and Matteo just nodded at you, his mouths slightly agape.  You turned and left the club, keeping your eyes studiously to the front and center and not letting them drift upwards to the balcony at all.

*****

Nevada had been on the receiving end of a half-hearted, half-assed quasi-lap dance when the skinny asshole bartender came loping up the steps to interrupt.  He considered laying into the boy to teach him a lesson about manners, but the girl writhing on him was boring anyway.  

She had managed to slip past the guard at the bottom of the steps, and she had curled up on his lap with all the usual, boring dirty talk.  She whispered in his ear, breathy and high-pitched, all the things she thought he wanted to hear:  how he was big and bad and how she was just a little girl looking for someone to take care of her.  Even when she took one of his hands and shoved it under her skirt, he had been bored stiff.  Well, not bored stiff, really.  Bored to tears.  Bored to death.

So the skinny bartender was a nice distraction.  Nevada shoved the girl off his lap and glared at her until she slunk back down the stairs.

“Your lady was here,” Matteo said.  He held out an envelope.  “She told me to give this to you.”

“Why the fuck am I just getting it now?” Nevada barked as he took the envelope.  

“I just got it,” Matteo protested, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously.  “She just gave it to me a few minutes ago before she left.”

Nevada bolted out of his seat and sprinted down the stairs, shoving through the crowd by the door, but when he got outside, he didn’t see you anywhere.

“Fuck,” he muttered.  He made his way back inside, and his eyes drifted up to the balcony.  A few steps in past the entrance, a person could look up and see whatever was happening up above.  Which you probably had.  Which explained why you handed the envelope off to Matteo instead of marching up to see him directly like you usually did.  

“Fuck,” he muttered again.  He scrubbed a hand over his face and made his way up to his office.  He sat down at his desk and opened the envelope, sliding a sheaf of papers out.  The top sheet had a note from you.  

Now we’re even was all it said.

-----

That night after closing, he called Gabe in.  

“I want her brought to me,” he told his captain.  Uncharacteristically, Gabe seemed nervous.

“No one wants to go near her,” he finally told Nevada.  “Word travels fast.  They said that guy she fought died.  Some of the guys are saying that she’s killed before too.”

Nevada picked up his ashtray and threw it across the room.  It shattered into an explosion of glass and ash, but Gabe didn’t flinch.  Not at that.  Not at Nevada.  But you scared him, apparently.  

“You fucking work for me, and I’m telling you to bring her to me tomorrow.  Comprende?”

Gabe nodded and left.

-----

Gabe called Nevada mid-morning to let him know that you were waiting for him in his office.  He took his time getting there, stopping off for some snacks at a bodega and using the bathroom before he moseyed up the steps like he had all the time in the world.

He expected you to attack him like a hell-cat, but you just sat on the couch, equally nonplussed.  You had two grocery bags sitting on the floor beside you, and you thumbed through a business magazine you had obviously bought.  It threw him off, this cool and collected you, the old you – especially compared to the last time he saw you.

You were silent a moment, reading your magazine.  You folded the corner of the page down and shut it before looking up at him.  “New accounting standards are coming out,” you told him.  “You may want to consider looking at how you recognize revenue, Ramirez.”  

He just stood over you, his hands on his hips, so you sighed.

“If this is going to take a while, can I at least put my perishables in a refrigerator?”  He didn’t answer, but he grabbed your two bags and shoved them at one of his guys outside his office with orders to take them downstairs.

“Anything else, princesa?” he asked after he slammed his office door behind him.

“You could tell me what you want,” you replied.  “A kidnapping in broad daylight isn’t a good look for you.”

He stalked over to the other side of the office and grabbed the chair by his desk, dragging it across the room until it was settled in front of you.  He sat down in it and looked you over as you just stared back at him, your expression unreadable.

You were in jeans and worn canvas sneakers.  A thin, soft-looking t-shirt that strained across your tits a bit and showed the outline of your bra.  An oversized navy blue pea coat, still on you but unbuttoned and opened down the front.

The bruise was still livid against your face, but the edges were the yellowish green of healing.  You looked wan, with dark circles under your eyes.  You looked like shit, frankly, but your hair hung loose down your back, and he liked that better.

“You aren’t kidnapped,” he finally said.  “You’re free to go whenever you want.”

“What do you want?”

He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, glaring at you.  You stayed sitting back against the couch, calm.  

“I’m asking the questions here, not you,” he said, his voice a low growl.  “And I expect the truth.”

“I’ve never lied to you.  When you asked me a question I didn’t want to answer, I changed the subject.  But otherwise, anything I said was the truth.”

He gave a dry bark of laughter.  “Yeah, right.”

You ticked points off on your fingers.  “Start at the beginning.  I called you a Johnny Cash wannabe.  Truth.  I said you’d get cranky if you quit smoking.  Truth.  I said you’d get bored with me and move on.  Truth.”

Nevada cut in with a shake of his head.  “Fine.  Why’d you stop here last night?”

“To give you those business plans,” you answered simply.  “As an apology, I guess.  Or thanks, for getting me out of Hunts Point in one piece.  You said I owed you one, so….”  You trailed off.

“Why didn’t you come up to see me then?”

An emotion he couldn’t quite place drifted across your face before your calm mask returned.  “You were busy.”

Nevada smirked.  So you had seen him.  It didn’t matter the truth of the situation – that he’d been in the process of detaching that girl from her latch on him.  What mattered is that maybe you were jealous about it.

“That make you mad, princesa?  Seeing me with another woman in my lap?”

Your mouth twisted into a sardonic grin.  “There’s plenty of girls out there…how did you put it?  Girls that aren’t cock-teases.  Girls who will dress right for you and not try to change your business.”

Nevada ignored your digs at him.  “I thought you told me you weren’t trying to change my business.”

“I told you that your business is going to change on you.  You’re the one who twisted it into some indictment on your character.”

“And I don’t believe you,” he replied.  “No way an uppity bitch like you doesn’t have opinions about me.  About me being a criminal.”

You leaned forward, placing your own hands on your knees, mirroring his posture and sitting mere inches from him.  He could smell your scent, that smoky sweet smell that made him remember all the times, few that they were, that you had laid under him, naked and writhing.  He felt that familiar pulse in his groin but glared at you anyway.

“I told you that being a criminal didn’t matter to me.  Truth,” you hissed.  “You think you’re such a bad fucking guy, Nevada.  You aren’t.  You sell weed.  You sell fireworks.  You rough up people for cash for your protection.  You run backroom gambling.  You ever kill someone?”

He nodded mutely, caught by the force of your sudden intensity.  

“Was it part of business?  Turf war shit?  Kill-or-be-killed stuff?”  He nodded again.  Your eyes bore into him, those flecks sparkling in your irises.

“You ever kill someone for no reason other than to just kill them?”  

He shook his head.

“You ever rape anyone?” you asked.  Your voice was icy, but Nevada recoiled from the question.

“No,” he said.  He didn’t elaborate, but muscling women had never been his thing.  Rough words, sure.  Rough sex, yes.  No cuddling or soft bullshit, ever.  But never sex with an unwilling partner.  He didn’t get off on that; Nevada preferred his women begging him for it, pleading with him to not stop.  “Why the fuck would you even ask that?”

You sat back a fraction and considered his question.  “Because you think I care that you’re such a bad guy, and I’m here to tell you – you aren’t the worst I’ve seen.  Not by a long shot.”

He thought about your face and the fury on it while you fought in the ring.

“Did that….” He paused for a moment, considering you.  “Did that happen to you?”  You shook your head.

“Something did happen to you though.  Probably when you were young.”  

You nodded.

“What was it?”  

You shook your head before you answered.

“It’s not your concern,” you replied.  Your voice had lost its cold edge now and just sounded tired, and Nevada saw the exhaustion in your eyes.  You scooted along the edge of the couch until he was no longer sitting in front of you, and you stood up to leave.

You gestured to his desk again.  “Those plans are good, but they aren’t a judgement on you.  Do with them what you will.  Jules can help you with the legal side of it if you want.  She’s really good at what she does.  But you should find someone else to handle your numbers.”  

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your coat and made your way to the office door.  Nevada stood up and took a few steps towards you.  He’d learned more about you in these past few moments than he had in months of knowing you, and he didn’t want you to leave.

“Why should I find someone else?” he asked, watching you closely.  “I thought you were the best at this shit.”

“Because I’m busy with other stuff.”  You pulled open the door and turned to look at him a long moment, an inscrutable look on your face.  You shoved your hands back in your pockets.  “And maybe it did make me jealous, seeing someone else sitting on your lap.”

Your eyes slid away from his as you turned to leave, but he crossed the distance between you in two long strides.  He grabbed at the heavy wool of your coat and pulled you back into the office.

He took your wrists in his hands, tugging you to him as you made a surprised squeal.  You didn’t struggle though, or break his hold or hit him – and Nevada knew you could.  He knew you’d allow as much as you wanted, and so far, you obviously wanted him.  Your admission that you’d been jealous was like a fucking shot to his groin, instantly making him hard.

He pushed your wrists behind you, capturing them in one of his larger hands.  He snaked his free arm up your back and tangled his hand in your hair, winding it through the loose waves until he had a fistful.  You stood rigid in front of him, not fighting but not necessarily giving in either.  He tightened his grip on your hair and pulled your head back until you were looking up at him.

“Tell me again,” he demanded, and he noted the confusion in your eyes.  “Tell me that it made you jealous.”

You took a hitching breath that made your chest press against him, but you also flexed your arms in his grip.  Not breaking it, but reminding him you could.  “It did,” you admitted.

He pressed his head closer to yours, tsk-ing in disappointment.  “No, no, no,” he whispered against your ear.  “Tell me the whole thing.  Tell me how it made you feel to see some other woman sitting on my lap.  Tell me how you wished it were you.”

He felt you turn your head a fraction to whisper at him, your breath tickling along his ear.  “I have a better game, your highness.  How about you tell me how you wished it were me, squirming in your lap.  Telling you how badly I need you.”  

Nevada groaned at this, and you pressed forward just enough to capture his earlobe between your teeth, tugging on it for a second.  The hand fisting your hair spasmed open, and you pulled some fucking kung fu shit and swiveled out of his grasp and away from him.

He stood between you and the door, and he knew you could get out if you wanted.  “All right,” he growled at you, taking a cautious step towards you.  “I wished it were you last night.”  You didn’t move, and he noted the flush that had broken out across your neck, disappearing into the collar of your shirt.  “I tried to pretend it was you, but she told me everything I wanted to hear.  You never tell me what I want to fucking hear.”

You smiled at this, and he took another step towards you.  “And she pulled my hand under her skirt.  You never fucking wear skirts.”

“Untrue,” you retorted, your grin widening.  “I’ve worn skirts plenty of time around you.”

“Not the kind I like,” he grumbled, and he took a final step until he was standing in front of you.  He didn’t reach out though.  It took every ounce of his strength to not grab you again, not matter the consequences.

“Poor Nevada,” you clucked.  But he still noted the hurt - or jealous - look in your eyes as you thought about what you’d seen last night, so he laid out his last card.

“She wasn’t you,” he said, “so I was trying to shove her off of me when that asshole bartender came sprinting up to give me your envelope.”

“Really?”

He stared at you hard.  “You said you don’t fucking share, princesa.”

You stared back at him, so he focused on your mouth.  That fucking mouth, like a curse to him.  If it wasn’t right in front of him, teasing him, it was at the forefront of his thoughts.  He thought about it constantly – remembered kissing it, remembered the way it fell open slack when he made you come, remembered how it felt pressed against his own skin.  

Right now, though, your mouth betrayed you.  You opened your mouth just enough to slip the tip of your tongue across your lower lip, laying a gleaming wet line that made Nevada’s already-hard cock twitch.

“You said I never tell you what you want to hear,” you finally said.  Your voice had a strangled quality, like you were holding yourself back too.  “What do you want to hear right now, your highness?”

He hesitated, so you reached out your hands and laid your palms flat on his chest, sliding them under the lapels of his leather jacket.  He looked down and marveled at them, how gentle you were.  Only a week earlier, you had nearly killed a man with them.  

He lifted his eyes to look at you.  You tilted your head at his expression but waited for him to tell you what to say.  So he leaned in and whispered it in your ear, and it drew a low groan from you.  But you nodded and took a step back to say it with your own mouth.  His shifted his eyes so that he could watch the words tumble from between your lips.

“Take me home with you, Nevada,” you said.  “We have lost time to make up for.”

He smirked at you.  “That’s not exactly how I worded it.”  

Unbelievably, you blushed a bit before repeating his words, verbatim.  “Take me home and fuck me until I can’t walk straight,” you said.

“Say ‘please.’”

You scoffed at him.  “Don’t push your fucking luck, you - ” and he cut you off by laying a bruising kiss on you, stopping the rest of your words with a groan.  He ran his tongue along your upper lip and then your lower, but he broke the kiss the moment he felt your own tongue press back against him.

“Since you asked nicely,” he replied, and he wound his arm around your waist and led you to the SUV and beyond that, home.

[vanderlindemorgans]

Mr. Perfectly Fine

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: Two weeks after breaking up with you, you're picking up the pieces of your heart that had been broken by your now ex-boyfriend Javier Peña. You want answers, a clear reason as to why things fell apart. The only problem is that Javier refuses to even acknowledge your existence

Warnings: A little bit of period-typical sexism, but not much, Javier being an asshole, mentions of prostitution, some low level typical Narcos themes

Authors Note: So this idea has been swimming around in my head ever since the song was released last week. I already had a Bad Breakup fic for Javi planned but I’ve decided to extend it into three parts! Also reader speaks in English bc I do not understand a word of Spanish other than that one line in Ultraviolence. None of this is beta read, so there’s bound to be a few mistakes - if I get anything really wrong then let me know. 

Part 2 | MASTERLIST

The tension in the room was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. From the moment someone walked in they could feel it, the stifling air of awkwardness surrounding every single person in the room as they pretended to carry on with their work, averting their eyes to the spectacle presented in front of them, a war of agitation rife between two agents sitting across the room from each other as well as the unfortunate Steve Murphy who just happened to sit between you two. From your end it was simple silent fury, directed right across the room to where your partner, or rather, ex-partner, Javier Peña was seated at his own desk, casually leafing through mountains of paperwork and suspect photos as if you weren’t practically shooting daggers at him from across the way. 

He wasn’t doing anything, and that was exactly the problem - you wanted him to do something, say something, anything, if only it would show that he even gave a damn about the situation at all. But he never did. Every morning when he walked into work carrying a black coffee in his hands, his top shirt buttons hanging loose as they always seemed to be and his hair mustled as if he hadn’t been sleeping properly, he said nothing. He walked past you as if you weren’t even there, ignoring your stares and crashing down at his desk, ready to continue the endless chase for Pablo Escobar. And it infuriated you. Oh lord, how it made you burn. With every refusal of acknowledgement he gave, you became even more tempted to march right over to him and strike him across his stupid handsome face. You never did, of course, and you never would. Physical confrontation just wasn’t your style. Nevertheless, the mere thought of such did bring you a small bit of joy to your broken little soul. 

Things had been going like this for two weeks now. You hadn’t expected much on the first morning back in the office after what had happened between you. A part of you wanted him to come grovelling to you, insisting that he’d made a mistake and begging for you to take him back. That in itself was nothing more than a fantasy: Javier Peña was too proud to grovel. If anything, his behaviour shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest. He was the one who broke up with you over a 27 second phone call, after all. 

Despite taking that into consideration, you thought by now you would have heard something from him. He’d have to talk to you eventually since you two were working the same case. Apparently no, because it appeared that he went out of his way to deliver every piece of correspondence meant for you through to Murphy, letting him act as a sort of unwilling middle man between the two of you. You knew that Steve already felt awkward enough having to be in the same room with the two of you whilst this was all going on, so your sympathy for him deepened when he was thrust into the even more awkward position of messenger. Sometimes you swore he made up fake meetings with Messina to attend to or new leads to investigate just so he could get away from the suffocating air of hate around you and Javi. And really, who could blame him?

You felt your nose twitch in annoyance as you trained your eyes forward to him, periodically looking down at various files of intel to keep up the facade that you were indeed working, though you eyes were across the room for most of the time, searching for any sign of emotion on his face. Nothing, zilch, not a single trace, his expression only showcasing general indifference, as if nothing were wrong at all. You gripped your hand tightly around the edge of your pen, thinking of everything you wished you could say to him. How’s your heart after breaking mine, Javi? For your information, ever since you pulled that bullshit on the phone, I’ve been miserable as all fucking hell. Before all that happened, I wanted to try. I was even ready to try to forgive you after that stupid fight, but you just had to make that call. You know what? I’d actually hate you less if you just acted like you cared a little that we broke up. But noooo, you’re just Mr. Perfectly Fine, what with your ignoring me and your casual cruelty, your always showing up at just the right time, and your insincerity, and the way you think everything fucking revolves around you. Well, I’ll tell you something Javi - I’m done! Absolutely done with you and your shit. Jump off a cliff for all I care!

“I’ll be back later on, gonna go follow up on a few leads” your thoughts were cut off by Javier’s abrupt announcement, your eyes gracing themselves upwards to watch him hastily scoop his jacket off the back of his chair and skulk his way out of the office. Every bitter word you wanted to say to him burned on your tongue, though you only managed to settle on a simple yet seething glare while his eyes glazed over you, rushing himself out of the room as quickly as humanly possible. You noticed Murphy look over his shoulder like he was about to say something but it was too late - Javi was already long gone. 

_______

Letting out a low groan of frustration, you slammed the door to your car shut and threw your head back against the seats headrest, the stress of the job and the emotional weight of the day combining to make you even more tired than you would usually be at the end of a long day. Javier hadn’t been back to the office since he left, leaving both you and Murphy to pick up all the work he’d left in his absence. If that wasn’t infuriating enough, the thought of him running around all of Bogotá just to avoid seeing you brought your anger to new unreachable heights. It was annoying - him not being around should have left your mind to be free to do some actual goddamn work but instead, just as before, every single moment he occupied your mind, living there permanently as if it were his right. How much more infuriating could that man get?

Thankfully, the drive home wasn’t any more of a nuisance than usual, since the apartment complex you shared with the others wasn’t that far from the embassy, so that was a small positive at the very least. Once you’d pulled up to the lot you were feeling a lot more level-headed than you did before, and were mainly looking forward to kicking back in pajamas and watching whatever was on TV with the leftover pizza from the night before. It wouldn’t do much to take your mind off everything with Javi, though, you knew that much. Still, a small bit of bliss was still bliss. 

Your apartment was down the hall from Javier’s, which had made it easier for you two when you were together but now felt like another sore reminder of what had been. Sighing heavily to yourself, you kicked the door to your car shut and stuffed the keys into the pocket of your jeans. A minor annoyance, sure, nothing you couldn’t handle though. You wondered if he would even be back right now. He had to be, right? An idea started to creep into your head at that thought, taking root and festering until you had practically talked yourself into doing it already, descending up the stairs with a sense of purpose behind you. Maybe if you showed up on his doorstep you could force him to confront you, make him look you in the eye. Any sort of acknowledgement to what you two had would be nice at this point, and if you had to take action yourself to get him to do it, then so be it. 

The closer you got to his door the more you felt you should turn back, a feeling of uneasiness beginning to form somewhere deep in your chest. This might be a bad idea. What if you two got into a fight again? As much as you wanted nothing more than to hurl some carefully crafted insults at Javi and his stupid gorgeous face, you weren’t exactly up for a full on battle that could result from it. Would it be better to simply go home and ignore your problems a little more?

Once you were only inches from the door was when you started to hear it. At first it sounded muffled, on account of the fact that there was a physical barrier between you and them, and you weren’t quite sure exactly what you heard at first but when you pressed yourself closer to the door you could hear it all clear as day - a woman moaning loudly on the other side, whimpering out Javi’s name and betraying exactly what was going on within the walls of the apartment. You felt your breath hitch in your chest, the world feeling like it was collapsing around you from the very second you realised why he had left early for the day. Unable to stop yourself, you tore yourself away from the apartment door and ran down the hall to your own place, tears falling at a rapid pace that refused to stop. You didn’t know if the woman in there was an informant, or a prostitute, or some random chick he’d picked up in a bar after ditching work for the day. In the end none of it mattered though. All that mattered is that it wasn’t you in there with him, like it used to be, like it should be, and that fact made you hurt all the more fiercely.

Fumbling with the keys to your apartment, you choked on a low sob working your way through the waterfall of tears in your eyes to try and wrestle the key into the lock. Through your haste, you accidentally let them fall loose from your palms and onto the ground, prompting a loud “fuck!” to ring out from your throat, loud enough for everyone in the neighboring apartments to hear. Not like you really cared about that, to be honest. With your hands shaking, you finally managed to throw the door to your apartment open, slamming it back closed with a thud and leaning back against it with your head in your hands, slowly descending to the ground to finally give in to the wave of sorrow threatening to claim you. 

You’d known his reputation before you started seeing each other, that he slept with all his informants and chased every woman who crossed his path in Colombia. Actually, it had made you hesitant to get involved with him in the first place but once you two had bitten the bullet and finally admitted your damn feelings for each other, Javier had ceased with his wild ways, becoming solely dedicated to you and you alone. And sure, you two weren’t together anymore, there wasn’t anything stopping him from being with other women. It felt like a deeper twist of the knife though, what you’d heard from behind that door, and it practically confirmed the sickening feeling that had been building in you since the first day back in the office after your breakup, when Javi refused to even look you in the eye and acted as if you’d vanished off the face of the planet. He doesn’t care about me anymore. 

Moving on had been that much easier for him. While it took everything in you to get up each day, he was doing absolutely ok. More than ok, if the sounds coming from his apartment were anything to go by. He was even already settling back into his old reputation. You should’ve known it was too good to be true - the manwhore of the DEA, Javier Peña actually wanting to settle down with one woman, actually caring about a girl beyond what she could be in bed. You remembered the raised eyebrows when you two had first gotten together: for most, it just seemed so out of nowhere. You’d ignored them all, remembering all the times you’d be tangled up with Javi on the couch, his head nestled into your neck while your heart raced a mile a minute, hearing every sweet nothing and praise he’d whisper to you. Stupid girl, you should’ve known. 

_______

After such a huge revelation, you thought things might’ve changed. In what way they would, you didn’t really know. Maybe the change would be sudden, such as you finally working up enough of a resolve to actually go confront Javier on his shit. Or maybe you’d take a leaf out of his book and start trying to seem like nothing was wrong at all, maybe go out on a few dates with some other guys. One of the Search Bloc guys had been eyeing you up every time he came over with Carillo to talk strategy, maybe you could go out with him. Though you knew it wouldn’t help - unlike Javier, who was actually more than happy with where you two had left things, you weren’t, and acting like it was just to throw it in his face wasn’t really going to work if he didn’t care enough to look over at you in the first place. And even then, the idea of falling into bed with some random man that you didn’t care for all that much in the name of moving on didn’t seem right to you. 

Nevertheless, you expected some form of change to happen the morning after when you came into work to see Javier sitting at his desk, on the phone to someone you couldn’t care less about. But nope. Nothing had changed. You sat down and stared across the room at him, just like you’d done every day for the past two weeks, and he ignored your stare to continue with writing something down on his notepad, just like usual. 

Maybe the change would be gradual, you thought, staring back over at the man in the midst of your ire with one of your coldest glares. And sure enough, around midday Steve had come up to you asking to retrieve something from the evidence room for him. Apparently he needed to look over something but was too busy with his own work to go fetch it - you knew on some level that his excuse was bullshit as it had been a pretty slow day for all of you but sure, whatever, if it got you out of that room and away from Javi for at least a few blissful moments that was fine by you. 

Reaching out for the door to the evidence room, you pushed it open and admitted yourself into the crowded space, twisting around to slam the door shut firmly behind you. Before you were rows of shelves containing every bit of evidence the DEA had accumulated against Escobar - there wasn’t as much as there probably should have been due to the fire that had broken out at the Palace of Justice years before yet the amount contained in that small room was still impressive in size. Moving between the shelves, you scanned the rows of boxes looking for the one Steve had asked for in particular, taking your time with it as there was a small sense of serenity to being in that room. For once it felt like you could breathe. You didn’t have to sit at a desk across from your ex, you didn’t have to go home to your apartment that was literally across the hall from his, you could be alone and not feel suffocated by his ever-present shadow over your life. Though, in some way you supposed, your own memories could still prove just as suffocating as Javier’s own godforsaken presence.

As if by thinking of him you’d magically summoned him, the man himself strode through the door to the evidence room, appearing to be in quite a hurry however once he noticed you were there he stopped, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before returning to their usual stoic glare. You could barely contain your own disappointment at his sudden appearance, letting your face twist into a low scowl as you watched him walk down the aisle you were standing in, his eyes dashing from row to row searching for any place to look so they could avoid landing on you. Anger bubbled within you, a thousand different sarcastic or otherwise snarky remarks coming to mind that you could throw out at him, every one of them becoming increasingly more scathing the more you thought about it. Letting out a small sigh, you forced yourself to push all those delightful insults to the back of your mind, not wanting to become caught up in any more personal drama than you had to. Get the box and go. It’s that simple. There doesn’t need to be anymore to this. 

A minute later your eyes landed on the fabled box you’d been searching for, shoved into a corner and so out of the way you almost missed it completely. You thought of asking Steve what was in the box that he needed so bad when out of nowhere you heard a familiar voice speak up from behind you.

“Listen, I...about what happened on the phone a few weeks ago-”. 

So, it seems Mr. Perfectly Fine has finally decided to break his silence. In an instant you twisted yourself around to face him, quickly taking in his serious expression and stiff stature before your eyes met for the first time in two weeks.“Oh, so you’ve finally decided to speak to me now? That’s a first. I thought you were steadfast gonna ignore me for the rest of my life” you spat, not allowing him any form of politeness or decorum in your reply. Why should you? He’d ignored you for weeks. He deserved this. 

You watched as Javier tensed at your words, clearly not expecting the bite back that you had given to him. There was some part of his expression that almost looked sheepish in a way, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he really wanted this conversation to happen at all. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just-” he started with you rolling your eyes and cutting in almost immediately. “Save it for someone who actually gives a shit. Shouldn’t be hard since you don’t seem to care all too much yourself” you snarled, an action which only made him even more tense. 

“I do care, and I kind of always have fucking cared so if you could calm down a little and stop getting yourself worked up we can actually talk about what happened. Can you do that for me at the bare minimum?” he retorted, a harsh edge appearing in his tone that indicated he was already becoming frustrated with your attitude. You knew Javi’s emotions like the back of your hand - he wasn’t a patient man, and he had no time for snark or sarcasm, though only if it was directed at him. When it came to himself, he was more than happy to indulge in a small bit of pettiness. You didn’t much care at that moment though: as far as you were concerned, he lost the right to a civilised discussion when he broke up with you over the phone and then pretended you were invisible for weeks. It’s not like things can get any worse than they are now, right?

“Oh, sure, sure, we can totally talk. How about I start then?” you fired back, every word simmering with venom and dripping raw with sarcastic edge. Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the shelf to take him in, from the creases in his tie to his tired eyes staring straight into you. Wait, tired? You didn’t realise it until then but he had been looking pretty tired lately, almost like he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Then again, his sleep schedule had never been quite stellar, so that wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. And he was probably up all night with that woman I heard him with, you reminded yourself bitterly.  “Look at you, so dignified in your well pressed suit, so smug and self-involved, so far above me in every way, so far above that you won’t even look me in the eye or acknowledge my presence. Tell me, Javier, has it really been that easy to forget about me?” you taunted. “Though I supposed when you’re seducing every whore in Colombia into your bed it would be easy, wouldn’t it?”. 

Javier was caught off guard by your remark, not anticipating that you would go so far as to accuse him of returning to his old ways. “First of all, she was an informant, and I had to leave yesterday to go meet up with her. Things ran into overtime and that’s the reason I wasn’t back. I thought you of all people understood that gathering intel is a vital part to the fight against Escobar?” he replied, that last line at the end being delivered with only a little more underlying snip than the rest yet it was more than enough for you to feel around thirty percent more pissed at him. 

You scoffed at his lies, your lip curling into a snarl at his attempt at patronising you. “Don’t patronise me. I’m well aware of the ins and outs of this job, in case you’ve forgotten I’ve been working with the DEA for eight years now, which is why I’m calling bullshit on your pathetic excuse for a lie. You do realise we live in the same building right? I know you were doing more than having a friendly discussion with her in there, in fact, I quite literally heard you two through the goddamn walls on my way back home. And before you try to spin some shit about how it was necessary for the case, you and I both know that fucking the informant isn’t a standard part of procedure. You don’t see Murphy bedding any of his sources of intel, do you?”. 

“Murphy’s married, princesa” he deadpanned, throwing in that little nickname he had for you that two weeks ago would have made your heart flutter but at this time and in the context he used it only soured your mood further. “That’s besides the point. You’ve been acting like I never even mattered to you at all, and it’s honestly making me wonder if I ever did? Especially since I apparently didn’t deserve the dignity of a proper breakup and got a 27 second phone call instead. Tell me, when did you change your mind? I thought I was supposed to be the one you were waiting for all your life. Guess that was pretty easy to change, wasn’t it?” you snapped.

“Hermosa, can you just fucking listen for one minute?! God, you’re impossible sometimes” Javier shouted, that infamous temper of his rising towards the surface at a rapid rate. It was only a matter of time before he spat something out that he would no doubt regret. In your own haze of anger though, that fact didn’t register with you at all - you only saw red. If you had to scream back at him to finally pull some answers out of the man, then so fucking be it.

“No, how about you listen for once! I know we had that big fight but we could have just talked. The next day when you called me up I was ready to forgive you for being a complete ass. And what did I get instead? ‘I’m sorry, I think we should stop seeing each other’ and a dead dial tone after that. I can tell the only reason you’re apologising today is just so you don’t have to feel like the bad guy in all of this. So what’s the truth? Why were you so ready to throw away a whole relationship over one night of terse words?” you screamed, not caring that you two were at work and anyone could pass by outside and hear you two argue. With the way you both were shouting, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire building could hear your screaming match with Javier. None of that mattered to you though. The only thing that mattered was the truth. 

You weren’t the only one refusing to hold back in any of this: any lingering spark of politeness had vanished in Javi, his eyes turning dark with searing anger you had only seen in him a couple of times before. “You want to know why? You want to fucking know why? It’s because you’re a fucking pain to deal with. You may be a fantastic agent but god you can be so stupid sometimes. You’re too reckless, you throw yourself into danger too willingly with no consideration for anyone else. Did you ever stop to think what would happen to the people who cared about you if you died? Do you even give a shit about the people trying to protect you?” he confessed, fury burning with every word that came out of his mouth, his admittance making you flinch. It was just like he said during your last fight, the one that led to him dumping you in the first place. 

Everything he said from that night came rushing back to you, remembering how furious he’d been at you for what had happened during your last raid together. You could see that underneath it all he was concerned for your safety, a gesture that was usually sweet but frustrated you that night as you felt something more akin to a porcelain doll than a capable agent in his eyes. Just because I’m your girlfriend, doesn’t mean you can treat me like I need to be protected. I can handle myself just fine. That was what you’d said to him that night, which should have been the end of it but somehow as the argument went on things got more and more heated that by the time he’d stormed out of your apartment neither of you could remember what had started it all. 

What took you by surprise was that apparently he was still stewing about this, for some reason not wanting to believe in your capabilities as an agent and that alone made you more pissed at him. “I don’t need to be protected, Javier. I’m a woman, a DEA agent for crying out loud, not a flower! I’m more than capable of handling myself, I was literally trained for this! Nobody else here seems to have a problem with how I approach things so maybe the issue isn’t my method of attack but the fact that you’re a paranoid asshole?”. 

He raised a single eyebrow back at you, looking somewhat skeptical of your claim but more so angry that somehow you two had managed to circle back around to the very thing that had started this whole mess.“Really? Because our last raid you were throwing yourself into the fray as if it were a suicide mission. It was a miracle you only ended up with a minor sprain to the wrist. Those men, the sicario’s, they don’t fucking hold back, one wrong mistake means the difference between life and death” he snapped.“And you know what? After constantly stressing over your safety every minute I was done. If you wanna end up with a bullet between your eyes, be my guest”.

The second those words slipped from his lips, he knew he’d fucked up. As the tears started to form in your eyes you could see him freeze up, his burning temper that had caused him to be so hateful before starting to slowly seep back, replaced with remorse and a hint of panic if you squinted. Although that didn’t matter much right now - his venomous words were rattling around in your brain, acting as a metaphorical hammer that took the final swing towards your damaged heart. Apparently what you heard through the walls the night before hadn’t been enough to break you completely, since there was still enough left of your heart for the rest of it to be shattered by his callous cruelty. 

Forcefully swallowing down your cries, you wanted so badly to disappear from the room. You wanted to melt into the floor, to run away and go find one of Escobar’s men and gloat about all you’d done to try to stop him so you could feel the mercy of a fatal gunshot wound to the head. All the pain you had felt previously paled in comparison to the knife that cut you then, the tight feeling of your throat closing with every word you forced out. “So you were lying. You don’t care about me at all. You...you think I’m stupid. And reckless. And...not able to handle being here…”. 

“Shit, princesa, that’s not what I meant, I-” Javier started, desperately scrambling to fix the mess he’d caused, however, you weren’t going to let him. He’d made his bed, now he had to lie in it. Any hope he might have had of making things right was now thrown straight out the window. No more chances. Not anymore. 

“I think that’s exactly what you meant, Javi. Well, you got your wish I guess. I’ll get out of your life for good” your voice wobbled as you spoke, the next few minutes becoming a blur from when you’d pushed past him and ran out of the evidence room, hearing him call your name behind and not bothering to turn back to face him, running through the halls past different agents and members of the DEA, your hand shielding yourself in a pathetic attempt to save face. Somehow you’d managed to make it out to your car, throwing yourself into the driver's seat and jamming the keys into the ignition, your mind going in a million different directions. Your first thought was to go back home, though you knew that you’d have to hear Javi come back later, probably with yet another woman he picked up. You didn’t exactly have any friends in Colombia - with your line of work there hadn’t been exactly a lot of time to sit around and mingle with people, and truth be told you wanted to avoid people at all costs right then. Without any idea as to where you might be going, or what you were going to do, you pulled your car out of the parking lot and slammed on the gas to get you out of there, the world surrounding you not registering to you anymore and every sound becoming a rush against your ears that you paid no mind to. 

One thing was for sure - you weren’t going to give Javier a single drop more of you. Your time, your mind, your energy, your tears, nothing. He’d already proved himself to be a lying sack of shit who didn’t care about you, so as it stood, you wouldn’t care about him either. Like the end of a tragic tale, everything had crashed and burned, and now that you thought about it more, maybe that was how things needed to be. 

Goodbye, Mr Perfectly Fine. I’ve been Miss Misery for the last time. 

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[doc-pickles]

all's well that end well to end up with you (p.2)

Welcome back to part two of this fic! If you missed part one it’s right here! enjoy!!

xoxo nina

The absolute last thing Jo had expected when she came to New York for a medical conference was running into her ex-husband. It should’ve been on her radar, Arizona was headlining the conference, but she hadn’t thought that Alex would be interested in maternal-fetal medicine. Yet there they were, staring at each other across a crowded hotel lobby. Arizona interrupts her train of thought, welcoming her and gushing about how excited she is that Jo is now an OB.

“I have to run but I see your husband over there,” if Arizona registers her shock she doesn’t show it. “Good to see you, Jo!”

As soon as Arizona is out of sight Jo finds herself marching up to Alex and slapping his arm, “Ow! What was that for?”

“What was that for? Arizona just called you my husband,” Alex flinches and Jo can’t help rolling her eyes at him. “You didn’t tell her?”

“It never came up.” “Alex! It’s been three years,” at the mention of their separation reality seems to sink in around Alex and Jo. They haven’t seen each other in three years, not since Jo dropped him off at the airport. “Hi.”

“Hey. You look… wow,” Alex realizes his blunder almost immediately, stuttering over his words as he tries to correct himself. “Sorry, uh, about Arizona. I’m scared she’s going to hit me for letting you get away. Which, fair enough, you know?”

Jo takes Alex in fully for the first time. His hair is a bit grayer but he looks good with his sun-kissed skin and toned arms. He’s dressed in a button-up and slacks and in other circumstances, Jo would find him devilishly handsome.

“Yeah, you’d have to be pretty stupid to let this get away,” Jo sends a subtle wink Alex’s way and watches as he sighs in relief. “So what are you doing at an MFM conference anyway?”

“My hospital is opening a brand new neonatal and MFM wing so the board decided that the chief and some of our surgeons should come out and learn a bit more. It also helps that Arizona taught me everything I know,” Alex nervously rubs the back of his neck, watching Jo carefully. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m an OB now,” the shocked expression on Alex’s face makes Jo giggle. “I know but after… Well after everything that happened I needed some change, something to make me happy. So I switched to OB, adopted a baby, and dyed my hair blonde. The blonde didn’t stick but the baby and the career switch did.”

There’s an overhead announcement for the start of the conference, people moving inside all around them. Everyone else seems to fade away though as Jo and Alex meet eyes again. He’s wearing that dumbstruck look that he wore when she dressed or after she said I love you or when they’d lay in bed together. Despite the years and distance between them, Alex still wears the undeniable look of love he always did when he looked at Jo.

“I gotta find Carina but… I’ll see you around?” Alex nods, still entranced with Jo as she turns to walk away. Their interaction is brief but it makes her crave Alex all the more.

-

Late that night Jo finds herself alone at the hotel bar. Carina had initially joined her but had gone back to their room to call Maya and their daughter. Jo is about to head up herself when someone sits on the stool next to her.

“Jack and coke for me and a whiskey sour for my friend here.”

Jo’s head whips up in surprise as Alex settles down next to her, a smirk gracing his lips, “It’s still a whiskey sour right?”

“Yeah thank you,” Jo nods to the bartender as he hands her the drink. “So… we’re friends now?”

“I’d like to hope so,” Alex picks up his glass and Jo gladly toasts him. “To new beginnings”

“To new beginnings.”

Alex and Jo sit together and discuss what’s changed for them. There’s no awkwardness or hostility like Jo might have thought. Instead, it genuinely feels like catching up with an old friend. She talks about Luna and proudly shows a video of the young girl counting to 10 in Spanish. Alex brings up a photo from Izzie’s wedding of himself squished between Eli and Alexis, all three bearing matching crooked smiles and bright eyes. Jo can’t help the swell of pride that mounts in her chest at the sight. Eli looks more like Alex but she can still see the Karev shining through Alexis as well. For a moment she wonders, goes through the what-ifs, but she quickly pushes them down.

“I think I’m gonna head up but I really enjoyed catching up,” Alex leans down, pressing a kiss to Jo’s cheek. Her skin flames up under his delicate touch and she knows she’s wearing a deep blush. “Goodnight Jo.”

“You missed.”

“What?”

“You missed,” Jo leans up, her fingers brushing Alex’s cheek as she pulls him down into a deep kiss. She brings her other hand up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer, sighing contentedly as his hands find her waist and pull her flush against him. She pulls back only slightly, leaning her forehead against Alex’s. “Are you still leaving?”

“Not without you I’m not,” the words sound so natural as Jo melts into Alex’s embrace, his arms wrapping fully around her. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss before they’re stumbling out of the bar, not drunk enough to blame their actions on the alcohol but just enough to begin to heal the open wounds of their failed relationship.

Everything after that comes naturally, the lost lovers escaping upstairs and falling into bed with practiced ease. Jo feels right at home in Alex’s bed, both of them remembering each other’s bodies as if they’d never parted. Neither of them thinks twice about the pillow talk they share after or the way they drift off to sleep in each other’s arms. It’s not until the next morning when Jo answers her phone that she realizes things are amiss.

“Mmm hello?”

“Thank goodness, I thought you were dead.”

“Carina?”

“Where are you? You missed the first speaker of the day.”

Jo bolts up in bed, finally realizing where she is. Alex’s arms snake out and around her waist, his gruff voice slightly muffled by his pillow, “Come back to bed, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Carina I’m going to grab a shower and I’ll be down as soon as possible.” There’s a light laugh on the other side as Carina confirms Jo’s plan, “I’m glad you’re having fun, Jo.”

Jo hangs up, jumping out of bed and searching for her clothes in a rush to get out the door. Her frantic pace brings Alex out of his sleepy stupor as he rubs his eyes and watches her, “Where are you rushing off to?”

“Well it’s 10:30 so I already missed the lecture on in utero surgery,” Alex rolls over, groaning when he sees that Jo is correct. “I’m hoping I can fit in a shower before Arizona goes on.”

Once she’s finally dressed Jo walks back to Alex, her lips brushing over his lightly before she pulls him in for a sweet and sensual kiss. She watches him for a moment, taking in the shocked look on his face, “What?”

“Why aren't you mad at me? I left you.”

“I forgave you a long time ago for that Alex,” Jo runs her fingers across his cheek, meeting his eyes with a serious stare. “As soon as I held Luna I understood why you did what you did. I knew that if I felt that way about a baby that wasn’t even mine yet that you couldn’t leave two kids who were half you. I always knew you would be a fantastic dad. Even if it wasn’t with me I’m glad that you got that.”

Jo presses one more chaste kiss to Alex’s lips, leaving him staring dumbfounded at her, “Can I come back tonight?”

“I’m sorry,” Alex seemingly ignores Jo’s last statement, looking up at her with a sorrowful expression. “Leaving you… leaving you was my biggest mistake. I love my kids but you were everything. You’re still everything. And I know you say that you forgave me but I never apologized. I’m so sorry Jo, you didn’t deserve how I left you.”

There’s an amicable silence as Jo and Alex just stare at each other, both of them with tears welling in their eyes. There’s not much else to say, but they both know that their newfound relationship wouldn’t end with the weekend.

+

It's three weeks after Alex‘s surprise weekend visit to Seattle and Jo has never felt so terrible in her life. Despite Carina‘s prescription of an anti-nausea medication Jo’s morning sickness and vertigo continue to plague her no matter what she tries. She hasn’t operated or delivered any babies in almost a month, her work routines now consisting of doing chart work and checking on patients when she’s not trying to keep food down. Between trying to maintain her work schedule and keeping up with Luna on top of her pregnancy, Jo is exhausted and completely depleted of any energy she might have once had.

She finally hits her breaking point an hour into her shift when she’s thrown up for the fourth time that day and nearly passes out. Her head is swimming as she leans against the bathroom stall, the only thought she can focus on is how much she wishes Alex was there. He always knew exactly what she needed when she wasn’t feeling good. There’s a knock on the door and she barely lifts her head when she sees Carina walk in.

“I’m admitting you. You need rest and fluids and you’re not going to get that if you keep running yourself into the ground,” Carina places her hand on Jo’s forehead. “You’re burning up, mi amor.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need to be admitted,” Jo attempts to brush off Carina as she grabs her hand, but the rush of blood to her head stops her. Carina barely catches her as her knees go weak and her vision blurs.

“What am I going to do with you, Jo? Come on, let’s go.”

Jo doesn’t put up any more of a fight, following Carina to a room and all but collapsing onto the bed. Her brain is foggy, words incoherently falling from her mouth as Carina asks her questions. Finally, her eyes flutter shut and Jo is enveloped in silence.

When she pries her eyes open again the sky outside is dark. Jo realizes this is the longest she’s slept in over a month and lets her eyes fall shut again. Only a moment later she remembers her morning with Carina and a deep panic sets into her bones.

Her baby.

As if sensing her unease, Alex reaches his hand out to grab hers. Jo then realizes that he’s sitting at her bedside, eyes tired and body restless in the small chair, “The baby’s okay, you don’t need to freak out.”

Jo nods, rubbing her hands over her face in exasperation. Even though their baby is okay Alex’s worried expression tells her that things might not be all rainbows and sunshine.

“Carina called me after you passed out. Scared the shit out of me, I thought you were dead or…,” Alex doesn’t finish the statement out, Jo putting the pieces together and settling her hand on the slight curve of her stomach. “You’ve gotta take better care of yourself.”

“I didn’t pass out, my vision went spotty and I was light-headed. And then I took a nap.”

“Jo, you slept for 15 hours straight. You were out long enough for me to finish a laparoscopic cholecystectomy, drive an hour to Kansas City, hop on a four-hour flight, and sit in traffic from the airport to get here. You’re running yourself into the ground,” Jo avoids Alex’s gaze as she fights back tears. “Carina took your blood when she put you on the IV drip. On top of being dehydrated and having iron deficiency anemia you also have an untreated UTI that’s bordering a kidney infection.”

“What?” Jo sits up abruptly but is immediately overcome with a wave of dizziness. Alex moves faster than her, placing one hand on her back while the other holds a basin in front of her. Head still in the basin, Jo speaks up, “Are you serious?”

Alex confirms the news once more, his hand rubbing Jo’s back gently, “She’s got you on strong meds to combat the infection and the baby is doing fine. You just need to take better care of yourself, Jo. Between work and Luna and now this baby you’re stretching yourself too thin.”

She can't help the rush of emotions she feels or the loud sob that breaks from her as Jo lets the last few weeks finally take their toll on her. Alex is quick to wrap her in his arms but even that does little to calm her down.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been really overwhelming and I’ve been doing everything alone,” Jo wipes at the tears pooling under her eyes and settles into Alex’s side. “I’m just exhausted from everything.”

“You’re not alone Jo, you have me and Mer and Link. All of us are more than willing to help you out.”

“Meredith and Link have their own families to take care of. And you live halfway across the freaking country, I can’t keep expecting you to drop everything and come to my rescue,” Jo knows that Alex wants to refute her statement but she avoids looking at him. “It’s just me and Luna and it’s so hard. I thought having a medically fragile infant was hard but that was nothing compared to all of this.”

Alex leans down and presses a kiss to Jo’s forehead, pulling her closer to him, “We’ll figure it all out, okay? I’m not letting you take all of this on by yourself.”

The words comfort Jo, if only slightly. She knows Alex has changed, knows that he really means it when he says that he’s going to take care of them. She’s not entirely sure what the future holds for them but she knows that everything will work out.

+

Meredith isn’t entirely sure what to think when she uses her key to unlock the penthouse only to find it empty. The furniture is still there but the personal items are all gone. The photos of Jo and Luna are gone, all of the drawers and closets are empty, and the place is eerily quiet. When she loops back to the living room Meredith finally notices the note taped to the fridge written in Jo’s loopy script.

Link or Meredith-

Luna and I are fine, there’s no need to worry about us. I promise we’ll call soon.

-Jo

The note gives Meredith a strange sense of deja vu, taking her back to when she had packed up Zola and Bailey and gone to San Diego. The memory instantly worries her, she can’t blame Jo for running but she also knows that their situations aren’t the same. Meredith pulls out her phone and dials Alex, hoping that he’s heard from Jo but the call goes straight to voicemail.

As she walks out of the penthouse Meredith hopes that Jo is okay, hopes that Alex knows where she is and that he’s able to help her through the rough road she has ahead of her.

+

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself. How was the flight?”

“Besides the rambunctious three-year-old and constant nausea it wasn’t too bad,” Jo grins up at Alex as he takes Luna from her arms. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

Alex lets out a laugh as he folds Jo into his arms, squeezing both girls tightly, “Finally, it only took a month of begging.”

“Yeah well I figured now was a good time, you know before I get any bigger,” at the mention of her expanding baby bump Alex lets his hand float down to the curve of her stomach. She’d hidden it well with sweaters and baggy scrubs but now there was no denying that she was pregnant. “This is kinda crazy, isn’t it?”

Alex and Jo both laugh at that, knowing that nothing they’d ever done was traditional or normal. They’d divorced almost four years ago and now found themselves with three kids between them and a fourth on the way.

“What? You moving to Kansas after we’ve only been back together for a few months? I’d say it’s not completely sane,” Alex takes in Jo’s shocked face with a smile. “What’s that look for?”

“So we’re together now are we?”

Alex laughs before he bends down and captures Jo’s lips, only parting upon Luna’s insistence, “Only if you want to be.”

“I do.”

“Good because I fully intend to have you say those words for a third time,” Jo’s jaw drops at Alex’s words and it takes everything in her to calm down her racing heart. “You think I was just gonna bring you out here without marrying you?”

“Well, I-”

Alex takes the opportunity to press another kiss to Jo’s lips, “It’s okay princess, I promise this is the last time.” Jo finds herself standing in awe as she watches Alex and Luna look for their bags on the conveyor belt in front of them. There’s a flurry of tiny flutters that erupt in her stomach, partially from the baby wiggling around but mostly from the joy, she felt at Alex’s proposition. Since their reunion in New York, all Jo has wanted is exactly this, a life with Alex. She had thought that wasn’t in the cards for them anymore but as she watched him hoist Luna onto his shoulders she knew that everything around them had worked out perfectly.

[merakiaes]

Pussy Whipped - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: I lacked good ideas for dialogue in this one so this is shit, I’m sorry😂 Not proofread so sorry in advance for any possible mistakes. Translations for the Spanish bits are at the end. 

Wordcount: 2420

Summary: Mother nature pays you an early visit and Oscar treats you like the princess you are even though his Santos are watching. 

The weather was thriving outside, the air a perfect temperature and the sun shining down on all of Freridge. Yet, on this particular Saturday morning, you were absolutely miserable.

It was eleven o’clock and Oscar had been up for God knows how many hours already, while you had refused to leave your bed when the alarm had urged you to get up and get on with your day.

You’d had a lot planned for the day; chores like cleaning the house and switching out the broken lightbulb in the bathroom, and errands like going to the mall to get Cesar a new pair of shoes and go grocery shopping.

But no, as usual, mother nature chose the most inconvenient of times to pay you her monthly visit, never taking your planned cycle into much consideration.

With Oscar being in charge of Los Santos, he was always an early riser and you rarely woke up next to him, so in any other case, you didn’t mind.

But when you woke up this morning to a cold, empty bed, you had grown sad and started crying, and because of this realized pretty much instantly what was going on, even before the intense pains started.

But the cramps weren’t far behind, stopping you from getting out of bed any more than to go put in a tampon. After that, you had buried yourself under the mountain of blankets Oscar so stubbornly insisted that you slept with and cried even more because of the fact that they smelled like him and he wasn’t there to hold you.

You lost track of how long you laid there and just sulked, feeling sorry for yourself and craving everything you didn’t have in the house, but the second you heard people entering the house, followed shortly by Oscar’s voice cutting through the previously silent air, you defied the painful cramps radiating all through your abdomen and left the safety of your bed. 

It was with sulking and begrudging steps that you made your way out of your shared bedroom and headed straight for the living room.

With each step you took, the voices now speaking freely became louder, and you realized only then that your head was throbbing in sync with your uterus, making you cringe silently to yourself.

But you pushed on, desperate to be near Oscar in all your self-pitiful glory and entered the living room only seconds later.

You spotted Oscar where he was sitting in the couch instantly and when feeling your eyes on him, he looked up to meet your gaze.

The smile that had been stretched across his lips prior to your entrance faltered ever so slightly at the sight of the state you were in; hair thrown into a properly messy messy-bun, eyes bloodshot, cheeks streaky with dried tears and your body still dressed in your sleeping attire consisting of a pair of leggings and one of his very oversized t-shirts.

You were always one to start your day early. Not as early as him, but still early. You didn’t like to stay in your pajamas, so when you did, something wasn’t right.

“¿Qué pasa?” He asked you as you approached him at the couch, passing a few other Santos sitting on the opposite side of the coffee table.

Your lips automatically pulled into a small pout at his question, starting to feel your emotions getting the better of you again.

“I’m dying.” You answered in a small voice, looking down at him.

He wasted no time in shuffling further back into his seat and opening his arms, nodding his head lightly. “Come here, mami.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, sitting down in his lap and feeling a rush of calmness go through your body the second his arms wrapped around you. Getting comfortable, you leaned your back against his chest.

Sad Eyes, who was sitting next to Oscar, wordlessly accepted your legs over his knees while taking a sip out of the beer he was holding in his hand.

Meanwhile, the other three Santos who were present looked on with amused expressions as their fearless leader pressed a kiss to the top of your head and started rubbing your arms in a soothing manner.

“You going soft on us, Spooky?” One of them asked, but before Oscar even got the chance to reply, you flashed a fierce glare at him.

“Shut it, Manuel.” You snapped, snuggling further into Oscar’s chest.

Manuel whistled, smirking at you. “Damn. You on your monthlies?” He laughed at his own joke, but the others didn’t join in, having known you for longer and knowing exactly what was up.

“Yes, I am on my period.” You confirmed with hard eyes. “No, that does not mean that my anger is irrational.”

Oscar pressed a kiss to the side of your neck from behind you, clasping his hands in front of your chest. “Calm down.” He mumbled into your skin, pressing another kiss to the spot between your neck and shoulder. “Flow came early this month, huh.”

“Mhm.” You hummed, his affections calming you down immediately. “It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t be punished for not being pregnant.” You complained to yourself, scoffing lightly.

“Psh, how bad can it be? So what you got cramps.” Manuel dropped yet another comment, shaking his head.

This time, you only closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose, focusing on Oscar’s soft touches in order to not blow up right then and there.

Instead, the Santo next to him slapped him across the chest, giving him a look of disbelief. “Dawg, do you have a death wish or something?” He asked. “You don’t question chicas when they’re on their flow. Rule one.”

“I’m just sayin’, homie. It can’t-“

“How about you let me stab you in the stomach a hundred times?” You interrupted him, opening your eyes and raising an eyebrow at him. “And then make you walk around like everything is fine while you bleed from your privates?”

His nose scrunched up in disgust at your words, his previously teasing attitude dropping. “Keep those bloody details to yourself. That shit’s disgusting.”

Your eyebrows shot up even further at that. “Well, that’s pathetic.” You chuckled. “What’s really disgusting is that men are still grossed out about girls getting their periods in the twenty-first century. I’m sure your mother was praying to get hers but she got you instead. Tragic.”

Oscar’s chest shook with laughter behind you, the other Santos joining in while Manuel looked sheepish.

“She got you there, ese.” Sad Eyes spoke up for the first time at that, shaking his head with an amused smirk crossed over his features. “You know, there’s a reason Spooky’s got a ruca and you don’t.”

“Yeah, and this is it.” You agreed with a snort, before looking at your boyfriend’s right-hand man with gratitude. “Thank you, Sad Eyes.”

He gave you a nod, face still amused. “I got you, Lady Spooky.” He chuckled, but Manuel wasn’t half as amused, glaring around at you.

“Why you ganging up on me?” He asked, offended, and one of the Santos immediately delivered a slap to the back of his head.

“Because you’re stupid.” He answered, and while the two continued to bicker back and forth, you turned to look at Oscar behind you.

His face was pulled into a similar expression as Sad Eyes’; one of pure amusement as he quietly watched the scene unfold. But his face turned sincere when he averted his gaze to meet yours, eyes turning soft.  

“You need anything?” He asked, and you wasted no time in nodding, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes even though you knew for a fact that it wasn’t necessary to get what you wanted.

“Can you go get my heating pad?” You asked, touching his face with your hand lightly. “And an Advil, too.”

He stared into your eyes for a long moment, taking in every feature of your face, before slowly nodding his head.

At this point, the bickering stopped and all of the Santos were watching you with amused expressions.

“Check this out, this is where Spooky’s manhood dies.” One of them, this time not Manuel, remarked, causing all of them to laugh.

Oscar’s face broke into an equally as playful smirk as he moved his attention from you to his homies, raising his eyebrows at them. “You know how it is, compa.” He joined in, shrugging his shoulders. “I gotta treat my future baby mama good.”

He rubbed your arms for a moment longer, before starting to stand up.

Naturally, since you were sitting in his lap, you were stood up with him and instantly felt your stomach pull together in pain. You managed to ignore it and raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend instead.

“You planning to put a baby in me, Diaz?” You asked teasingly, and he smirked down at you, wrapping his arms around you.

“You know it, mamas.” He fired back without missing a beat, leaning his face closer to yours while caressing your butt shamelessly. “With my smarts and your looks, our babies will conquer the world.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m not smart?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not, mi amor. The smartest person I know.” He was quick to defend himself and pressed a kiss to your lips before you could say anything else.

You smiled into it, neither of you caring in the slightest that his Santos were watching you with different expressions. At this point, they were all used to Spooky’s soft spot for you. Or well, everyone but Manuel was, him being fairly new.

But luckily, he was smart enough to understand not to point it out anymore, with the way the others were averting their gazes and minding their own.

Breaking apart from the kiss, you shared a final look before Oscar wordlessly walked into the kitchen to bid to your wishes, while you got back into the couch.

This time, you laid down flat on your back, your head resting on the armrest and Sad Eyes once again accepting your legs over his knees without as much as a single complaint.

The man in question started conversing with the other Santos while Oscar was busying himself in the kitchen and meanwhile, you just laid there in silence, listening in to the conversation at hand with an arm draped over your eyes in an attempt to block out the sunlight streaming in through the window for the sake of your throbbing head.

Five minutes later, the conversation happening around you quietened down and another second later, you felt a prod against your arm. 

Removing said arm from over your eyes, you caught sight of Oscar now standing above you, holding your heating pad in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

A smile instantly graced your features and you wasted no time in pulling yourself into a sitting position, pulling your legs up to your chest.

“Thank you, baby.” You thanked him, gratefully accepting the glass of water along with the pill he had been holding in his hand behind it.

You swallowed the pill with a few sips of the water and handed the glass back to him, trading it for the heating pad that you wasted no time in placing at the bottom of your stomach.

You let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of the heat and Oscar raised an amused eyebrow. “Better?” He questioned and you nodded, wrapping your arms around your legs and leaning your cheek on your knees.

“Much.” You smiled, and he smiled back before heading back into the kitchen with the glass.

Only a few seconds later, he walked back into the living room with his phone in his hand, raising it slightly in a signal to his Santos.

“Got a text. Let’s dip.” He told them and they didn’t need to be told twice, all of them beginning to stand up from their respective seats.

Oscar’s face was much colder now, almost completely free of emotion, but as he walked over to you, his eyes still went soft at the sight of you.

You offered him a soft smile, taking his hand in yours once he reached you by the couch. “Can you go by the store when you get back?” You asked. “The fridge is empty and I’m hungry. And I’m all out of tampons.”

He nodded his head simply, squeezing your hand. “Te apoyo, cari��o.”

Sad Eyes was the last one out of his seat beside you, shaking his head and chuckling, watching his best friend basically turn into a pile of mush at one simple touch from you.

“She’s got your cojones locked up tight, compa.” He teased, and you watched as Oscar’s playful attitude returned at the comment.

“Cállate.” He chuckled, looking at him, before turning back to you. “I'll get you some of that chocolate you like, too.”

He used his thumb to caress your knuckles and you smiled at the feeling, feeling your body grow warm at his affection. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi amor.” His hand dropped yours, instead reaching out to touch your chin. “Go lay down. I’ll be back soon.”

You nodded, still smiling softly, but instantly raised an eyebrow when his hand left your chin and he turned to walk away.

“Hey, where are you going?” You asked, giving him a smirk when he turned back to look at you. “Forgot something.” You pointed to your lips, raising your head from your knees and straightening your neck to give him better access.

He chuckled at you as you started making kissing noises, but nonetheless leaned down to press a quick kiss to your pouting lips. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby.” You smiled and leaned your head back on your knees, now content and allowing him to walk away from you.

“Pussy whipped bitch.” Sad Eyes wasted no time in commenting once he reached him in the doorway of the front door, and Oscar, in turn, wasted no time in playfully shoving his chest.

“You looking to scrap, cabrón?” He asked, shoving him again. “I’ll give it to you.”

Sad Eyes stumbled into the wall behind him at the sudden force but he quickly regained his composure, starting to play-fight back. 

You shook your head as they exited the house and let the door shut behind them, listening to their Spanish bickering until the sound of Oscar’s Impala starting and driving away filled your ears, only then speaking fondly to yourself.

“Idiots.”

Translations (I’m not a native Spanish speaker so this might not be a hundred percent accurate):

¿Qué pasa? – What’s wrong? Te apoyo, cariño – I got you, baby

[heyheyloki]

Playboy

Summary: Reader moves into Peter’s apartment building with an unpredictable start to an abnormal friendship.

Peter Parker x M!Reader

Requested? Yes.

Word count: 3311

Warnings; mentions of sex, drug use.

Your meeting with the infamous Peter Parker was, well, anything but normal. You didn’t mean to come off like you did, he just caught you off guard was all. Not to mention being caught off guard just makes you defensive, even if you don’t mean to be. 

It was late into the afternoon. Parents were starting to come home from work, kids were out of school, people were starting their late night plans. For Peter, he just planned to stay in tonight, especially with that Spanish test coming up tomorrow. He needed to be prepared. He needed to study in a peaceful and non-disturbing environment. Normally, that was achievable. He would usually have no probably aside from his Aunt May coming in and telling him that dinner was ready. Today though, he had way bigger problems than just his aunt.

Peter sat at his desk, his head kept up by the palm of his hand. His eyes rolled over lines of ink over and over again, sometimes repeatedly. The ink that was seeped into the notebook paper was nothing more than a few words and then the meanings of them in English. 

He was relaxed, calm. That was until a sudden noise shook his body alive, jumping up as if sitting in the back of a school bus during a bump in the road. He had to piece together his now scrambled thoughts, his lips letting past some quick breaths as he tried to understand what just happened. Though, when it hit him, his brows furrowed in deep confusion. Music. Loud and heavily explicate music pounded against his ear drums like someone was banging pots and pans right against his ears. 

He thought the controller of such music would lower it soon after, unaware of how loud it would be when connected to their speakers. But after a while, maybe thirty minutes or so, the music never went down. Never getting any lower and knowing Peter’s aunt won’t be home until another thirty minutes, he got irrational. Frustrated with his splitting skull he marched over, the sound it was coming from only just across from his own apartment. 

He froze for a moment. He knew the person that lived here. They were nothing more than a simple old couple, probably closer to their eighties at least. He had no knowledge of anyone moving in or out, or if the people that lived here had any kids or grandkids. Still, he was determined to find out. He knocked a few times, the first few not being heard making him more rough with his knuckles against the wooden door.

Then, the door knob started to twist. He was prepared to deal with a little kid, maybe even a teenager that was going through that weird faze in their life. What he didn’t expect was this guy that looked about his age, maybe even a year older. He was tall, about two inches taller than Peter. He had messy, an almost bed headed locks on the top of his head. Pursed between his lips was a small blunt that looked newly lit. He didn’t have much of anything on, honestly, all he wore was a pair of boxer briefs that were clearly wrinkled. Though, with his exposed body came the sight of a few tattoos that littered his upper arm down his wrist on his left arm. 

“Can I help ya?” He asked, his voice deep and rough, like he almost got done taking a nap. Though, the way he spoke was clear he was native to New York unlike the older couple before he held a southern accent. 

“Uh, I was wondering if you could turn your music down? I’m trying to study.” Peter asked, his confused features noticeable to the one he spoke too.

The guy in front of Peter took a quick hit, aiming it up in the air. “It’ll be off in about two minutes or so. We were just about done anyway.”

“We?” Peter questioned, wondering if he had another new neighbor that he had no idea about.

He watched as the unknown guy opened his mouth, almost like he was going to answer Peter’s question. That was until a new voice came into the mix, a giggle, from a woman. It was only confirmed when a girl with dark hair slipped under the guy’s arm that rested on the door. Her clothes were disheveled, almost like she put them on with the knowing that they were dirty without a care in the world. She pushed her body against his in a playful manner, a giddy smile pressed on her noticeably swollen lips.

Peter cocked his head for the side as he studied the two as they interacted. His face flushing without his control when the man ask lowly, “Hey, baby, you leavin’ already?”

“Yeah, I had a good time but I gotta head to work.” She smiled, her lips gently pressing against his cheek before nodding in Peter’s direction in an acknowledging way before heading down the hall towards the stairs.

“Was that.. your girlfriend?” Peter asked shyly, wondering if it was okay to ask for a moment.

“Nah,” he replied. “She just comes over from time to time.”

“Oh,” Peter hummed out. His mind not fulling registering the words until a few seconds later, the tips of his ears boiling in a red tint that slowly trailed down the back of his neck. He quickly waved his hands in front of him in a dissmising way as he said, “I’m sorry if I interrupted or something! I mean, you were at fault with the music and all, but I didn’t know, so, sorry!”

The guy leaned his head against the door, clearly exhausted. “It’s whatever. We were finished anyway.”

“Right..” Peter trialed off. His composure coming back when he introduced him, though he held back on shaking hands this time around. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker. I live across from you with my Aunt May.”

“Hm?” The guy hummed. “Just your aunt?”

“Yeah, just her.” Peter stated.

You held back on answering any further before you introduced yourself to the guy in front of you. He was timid, awkward, but entertaining in a way that you haven’t quite figured out yet. But, you were in no rush. You never had a thing for doing things quickly, better to savor it at a nice, slower pace.

“I’ll see ya around, Parker.” You smiled as you raised your blunt to him in a salute fashion before shutting the door on him before he could say anything.

Peter stood outside your door for a moment. He was serious about going back to his studying, back to his apartment. He was still determined to do so, but, it would have to be delayed by a minute or two. When that door shut, his whole body stiffen up. His feet felt like they had been nailed to the ground as he was unable to move a single muscles in his body. He was tense, unaware of anything except for this small noise that played in his head. It wasn’t anything significant to him, nor did he remember ever hearing it before.

When it played, it sound like the melody of a song to him. The weird thing was that he couldn’t pin-point the song. He knew he had never heard it before. Though, the truly odd part was that he didn’t hear any lyrics. It had no words, missing from the music they belong to. They were lost to him, if not lost, then simply unidentifiable in this very moment in time.

Peter didn’t see you the next morning, gone before he could deliver some welcome cookies that May made for you. Peter was on his way out for school, and thought to do it then, but you didn’t answer. He thought he would just do it after school, around the time yesterday when he knew you would be home.

A normal morning was what he wanted. He just wanted to get the school day done with, the Spanish test taken, and then go home and celebrate the weekend. His body was flushed between a sea of souls that chatted with friends about meaningless things. Conversations would range between after school plans to simple crushes that some people gushed over. This kinda chat in high school was nothing new for Parker, but the scene that was unfolding before him against his own locker was something that made him genuinely shocked for once.

A dark haired girl, maybe a junior, had her back against Peter’s locker with a taller body looming over her with a cocky grin against his features as her hands squeezed and trailed over his biceps. Thanks to his Spider-senses, Peter was able to hear the entire conversation even though he was a few feet away. 

“Wow, you’re really strong.” She hummed out in a honeyed voice, her voice filmed over with something erotic.

“And you sure can’t keep your hands to yourself..” You cooed out, your mouth making way over towards the new girl’s ear and whispered, “You know, that outfit looks good on you, but it’d look even better thrown all over my floor.”

Peter’s back instantly stood straight as he gripped his hands tighter around the strap of his backpack. He blinked aimlessly for a moment before taking a gulp, his feet finally moving froward and behind you. He rocked on his heels, hoping you would notice him, but when that wasn’t working, he tapped your shoulder.

When you turned you held a small scowl on your features, well, that was until you noticed the guy behind you. “Ah, Parker.”

“What? You know him? Seriously?” The unknown girl asked before holding some sort of look of disgust on her features. She pressed her hands against your built chest with pressure so she could escape your grasp. She started between the two of you guys for a moment before walking away, though, not until she got the chance to whisper under her breath, “Losers.”

“Well, now look what you did.” You hummed out as you scratched the back of your neck. A smirk inched across your lips as you leaned back against the lockers saying, “That’s what, twice now? What is it, got a lil crush on me or something, Parker?”

“Huh? No, no--nothing like that! If anything both times were kinda your fault.” Peter blurted out.

“My fault? Really?” You asked. “How?”

“Well, I mean, the music was you, not me. And you’re against my locker.” Peter said, his voice trailing off the more he started into your eyes that made that lyric-less record start to play again in his mind. 

You pressed your lips together, shrugging your shoulders before stepping to the side. Off of Peter’s locker. “You got a point, sorry, man.”

“It’s, uh, it’s cool.” He muttered out as he slowly approached. It was odd at how cautious he was, like if he got too close he’d get burned or something.

You kept your eyes on him, cocking up a brow at how skittish this kid was around you. Though, a reason why did manage to come into your mind. Normally, you didn’t really care what people thought about you or their opinions on what you did in your free time. But, you did block his locker and disturbed his studying, so, you thought it wouldn’t kill ya to let him know.

“I’m not a cheater, yanno.” You said casually, like it was nothing but normal to say that suddenly.

“What?” Peter asked, his textbook in hand.

“I’m not dating either of those girls, so don’t think I’m a cheater or something.” You hummed out as you crossed your arms across your chest. “I’d never cheat if I was committed to anyone, but I’m not, so, yeah.”

Peter blinked aimlessly at you, your head lower than normal. From the two encounters he could tell you were confident, cocky even. But the shy persona quickly went away when you turned to eye Peter down, the look in your eyes making him flinch and yell out, “I never thought that! Sure, you kinda look like a playboy or whatever, but I don’t have a problem with that!”

You chuckled, cracking a smile at Parker. “Look like?”

“Yeah?” He questioned, unsure if that was the correct answer.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you don’t look like much of a nerd like I’ve been hearing.” You said, pushing yourself off the lockers. “For my first day, people are awfully chatty with the new playboy.”

“T-Thanks, I guess..” Peter uttered out as he watched you start to walk backwards.

“See ya around, Parker.” You said with a cheeky wink before turning away and heading to class.

Overtime, Peter and you bonded. Normally he would connect with people based on interests, maybe Star Wars or his fascination with the Avengers. You didn’t have a shred of interest in any of those two, practically nothing in common with each other. Still, maybe by some weird twist of fate, you two bonded, quickly too. Perhaps it was also because you two were neighbors, but either way, it happened. 

The friendship that formed between you two was nothing but normal. If anything, some thought you were a little too close. Nothing ever happened, but Peter and you didn’t mind the rumors, even if neither of you said that to one another. Both of you knew people talked about anything they could. Plus, it was something abnormal when the school nerd and playboy were chatting up with each other whenever either of you got the chance. 

Sure, there were some thing that Peter didn’t quite like about you as you did him. For him, he didn’t quite agree with the fact that whenever he wanted to hang out with you and had to come to your apartment, he always caught you with a new girl. It was kinda embarrassing for him in the beginning, but after a while, it got tiring and frustrated for some reason. Though, for you, it was how late he’d want to hang out. It was like any time from past the school day until almost seven at night was off limits with Parker. You could understand at times with the Stark Internship, but every night was extreme, even for you.

Today, both you and Parker agreed to hang out for the day and possibly spend the night at Peter’s place. You thought it would be a peaceful day with some movies and snacks from his Aunt May, who you found very sweet. When you arrived though, you noticed his eyes directly latch onto your neck like a fish with a hook. You decided to ignore it, knowing what he was looking at but really didn’t care to bring it up. 

“I brought some movies.” You said with a cheeky smile as you held up the few cases you brought. Normally, you would hear an excited Parker wanting to pick the first movie, instead he stood at the doorway of his room while you sat upon the edge of his bed. He was looking at you, you knew he could hear you, but it was like he was ignoring you on purpose as he studied the spots that colored your your neck. 

“You enjoy yourself last night?” Peter asked in a cold tone that was layered with something unfamiliar to you.

You frowned a bit, unable to even fake a neutral expression. You placed the movies down at your side, putting your hands behind you to keep you up as you leaned back on Peter’s comfortable bed. 

“Depends who you ask. Personally, could’ve been better.” You said calmly, praying he didn’t notice your uneven tone. 

You watched something new twist into Peter’s eyes, something that made your stomach drop like some love struck idiot. It made you feel, for some reason, a bit guilty. You were never one to apologize for how you were, how you thought about just living in the moment. With him though, it was different, and it kinda freaked you out a bit. Though, in the end, you didn’t mind it so much. It was exciting how he could keep catching you off guard like this. He was unpredictable to you, never boring. 

“Which one was it this time? Maybe a blond?” He asked roughly.

“Nah, I got a thing for dark haired people.” You answered calmly, not wanting to start an argument with him. “You never met him.”

Peter stared aimlessly at you. “Him?”

You nodded. The silence taking up the entire room. You didn’t like it one bit to the point were you said, “If you don’t the hickeys, just give me one of your shirts to cover them or something.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. Let’s just watch some movies.” Peter suddenly said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes like normal.

You nodded. “Okay.”

It was, well, more than a little awkward. Neither of you didn’t speak but just silently watched. To anyone other than the two of you, this would be normal and seen as okay. But, it wasn’t. Under normal circumstances, both of you would often make jokes about the movie. If it was a horror you’d try to understand one would make such a dumb move of investigating instead of turning the other way. Making bets on who would die next. When it came to action, Peter would often gush about the effects and badass dialogue. 

Today, it was pure silence. Thick enough for a knife to have trouble with. Now, you didn’t have a problem with silence in general. You thought people needed to understand which types of silences there are, which to enjoy. This one wasn’t one of those enjoyable ones that you lived in. No, this made even you antsy. 

You cracked your knuckles one by one, waiting until you ran out of fingers before saying, “I’ll stop, only if you want me to.”

“Huh?” Peter asked with wide eyes. His head causing a small hiss within the air at how fast he turned. ‘What’d you say?”

You took a deep breath. You seriously couldn’t believe you were doing this for one stupidly cute guy. “I’ll stop. But only if you want me to. I can see it gets to you a little.”

“You do..?” He uttered lowly, his breath shaken like he just got caught in the one of the worst lies ever.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “I mean, I kinda get it. If you were doing what I was, I’d be a little jealous too.”

Peter’s eyes widened a bit as you laughed a little louder this time. He gathered it was a dismissive laugh, one to distract him from your words. Still, it worked. He listened to the way you laughed, watched the way your shoulders bounced as you held a smile brighter than the sun. The sun that was starting to sun sneaking through his window and hitting your skin just right, almost getting sun kissed by the gods. He had heard you laugh countless times, but one was different. 

It was louder, more contagious than usual. The way you face lit up a bit brighter didn’t go unnoticed either. His heart even beating a bit faster against his chest than normal. It was like his senses got even more heightened than they already were, but it was only when he was looking at you. The one thing that caught his attention most though wasn’t anything about you, but solely about him. In that moment, the record player that was sealed in his mind started to play again. Same melody as when you met and may times after that. The thing was, he could hear the lyrics this time. Lyrics that were sensual and loving in a way he’d never experienced before. Lyrics that finally placed the pieces together. 

In that moment he knew in his heart, body, and soul that he had completely fell head over heels for you without his knowledge or even consent. You truly stole his heart rom under his nose without either of you knowing the actions of the other. 

[albertasunrise]

Mistakes - Chapter 2

Part 1

Summary: You’d known it was a bad idea to get involved with Javier Peña. You were just another notch on his bedpost but you were a notch he kept revisiting. You know you should have stopped it, declined his offers to rock your world but you couldn’t and now you had to deal with the consequences. Consequences that you knew he would refuse to accept.

Warnings: References to sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, Blood and Injury, Descriptions of Childbirth

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader

~

You were in the final month of your pregnancy. Things with Javier had been going well. You’d moved in. Decorated the room that was to be the nursery and the two of you had even started to date exclusively. Things were looking up. Connie and Steve had adopted a little girl, Olivia and you were delighted to have the chance to practice a little before your own came along, maternal instincts in full flow.

‘How's that pump working for you?’ Connie asked as she sipped her wine, watching as you finished fastening Olivia’s baby grow.

‘Wonderful thank you.’ You replied as you picked her up and rested her on your hip, grinning as she planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek ‘I don’t remember reading in any of the books you gave me that I would start lactating before she even came.’ You grumbled ‘Javi’s devastated that they’re now too sensitive for him to touch.’

‘Are you two still… you know?’

‘God I am like a sex fiend.’ You chuckled before nuzzling Olivia’s cheek ‘I thought that I wouldn't be in the mood at this point but I dunno, my hormones are just in overdrive and I want him all the time.’

‘And knowing Javi, he’s happy to provide.’

‘You cannot tell him I told you this.’ You said, your tone suddenly becoming serious.

‘What?’

‘He’s got a serious pregnancy kink.’

‘No… really?’ Connie asked as she covered her dropped jaw with her hand.

‘God yeah.’ You replied ‘The filth that comes out of his mouth about how “sexy I am, round with his baby”. He gets hornier and hornier the bigger I get.'

‘That's just…’

‘Unbelievable?’

‘I just can’t believe it.’

‘Well, it's true.’ You giggled ‘But you’re sworn to secrecy.’ You warned, pointing a single finger in her direction.

‘My lips are sealed.’ She replied, mimicking pulling a zip with her thumb and pointer finger ‘How are things? Things good?’

‘Yeah actually.’ You confirmed as you walked towards Connie’s couch and sat yourself down, positioning Olivia on your lap ‘He’s been really great. Literally runs whenever I need him. He was great when I was forced to take Maternity leave early.’

‘Oh, how are you feeling?’ Connie inquired, rubbing your arm.

‘I have good and bad days. Who knew that morning sickness was something that could come back?’ You paused, shrugging your shoulders. ‘I thought once I stopped suffering from it that that was it.’

‘Pregnancy affects everyone differently.’ Said Connie sweetly ‘But when she arrives it’ll all be worth it.’

‘Definitely.’ You replied, beaming at her as you bounced Olivia on your knee.

~

You were worried when Javier didn’t come home that night. He didn’t call. Not even Steve knew where he was. You lay there, cradling your bump, wondering if Javi was okay. If he was dead in a ditch somewhere. You didn’t sleep. You lay there staring at the ceiling until finally, in the early hours of the morning, Javier finally crawled into bed.

‘Where were you?’ You growled, taking him by surprise.

‘Did I wake you?’ He asked as he kissed you softly but you didn't return it.

‘No.’ You spat, eyes not leaving the spot they’d fixed to on the ceiling ‘Where were you?’

‘I was with Carillo.’ He replied, his tone a little nervous ‘We were staking out a potential bolt hole.’ He paused ‘Ran later than I was expecting.’

‘You could have called Javier.’ You growled, finally turning your head to look at him.

‘I left my phone in the office.’ He replied gingerly and you scoffed at that ‘Baby I’m sorry.’

‘What if I’d gone into labour Javi?’ You asked ‘What then?’

‘You’re not due for another few weeks baby.’

‘That's not the point.’ You snapped ‘She could literally come at any time. I can’t do this alone Javi, you promised me I wouldn’t have to.’

‘I know I’m sorry.’ he said, scrubbing his hand over his face ‘I promise I will keep my phone on me at all times. I have a pager now too so you can contact me on that if it's about the baby coming, send 911.’

~

Things only got worse over the next week. He got home later and later, consistently stinking of the cigarettes he smoked and the whiskey he drank. Steve was always with him so you knew that he was truly in the office late but as your due date loomed closer and closer, you started to fear that you were going to end up doing this alone.

‘Baby come on don’t do this.’ He begged as you grabbed your coat and opened the door ‘I’m sorry I’ve been getting home later but we’re really close, I can feel it.’

‘I’m really close Javi.’ You growled, turning on your heels to face him ‘I have literally 2 weeLet'sntil I’m due. Two weeks until our daughter arrives.’ You paused as tears streamed down your cheeks ‘You promised me that you’d put us first. You swore to me and I believed you, let me fall for you.’

‘Hermosa please.’

‘I need some air Javi.’ You snapped, storming out the door and down the stairs of your building.

‘You can’t be walking around at night eight, almost nine, months pregnant.’

‘Uh, I can.’ You growled, not even turning your head to look at him as you continued to walk.

‘Please cariño. Lets just go home and talk about this.’

‘Nothing to talk about Javi.’ You growled, continuing to stomp on.

‘Hermosa please.’ He yelled and you stopped in your tracks, shoulders heaving ‘I’m sorry. Sorry that I haven’t been there but works been so hectic and I-.’ You start to turn, mouth opening as you started to speak.

‘Javi I-‘ You stop dead, eyes growing wide.

‘What?’

The gunshot echos through the evening air. You stare at him and he stares back at you, his eyes then drifting down to see his off white button-up gradually turning red.

‘JAVI.’ You scream as you sprint to his side, remarking the gunman sprinting away ‘Javi, baby, stay with me.’ You pleaded as you pull off your coat and press it down onto his stomach.

‘FUCK!.’ He yells, eyes shooting open as your action tore him away from the darkness that had tugged at his consciousness ‘Cariño… you need to get out of here.’

‘I’m not leaving you.’ You sobbed, hands shaking as you looked around and you realised that you’d not made it far from your apartment building.

You started to scream, as loudly as you can, for someone to help you. You scream until your voice goes hoarse and just when you start to lose hope that someone will help you notice a familiar blonde figure sprinting towards you.

‘SHIT!’ He shouted as he came to a stop at your side ‘What the fuck happened?’

‘He’s been shot.’ You sobbed.

He made some calls on his phone before he finally dropped to your side, taking over placing pressure on Javier’s wound as you then tried your best to comfort him. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin and you noticed he’d started to shiver, eyes hooded and heavy as he tried to keep himself awake.

‘Steve he’s going into shock.’ You said, voice shaking as your stroked some of the sweat-slick hair away from his brow ‘Help’s coming baby.’

You hold his hand and sob, cursing yourself for leaving the house.

Why had you left the house?

The EMTs arrive a short while after, pulling you and Steve away so they could work on Javi whilst throwing medical jargon in Spanish back and forth that you and Steve managed to catch only the odd word here and there. You are both ushered into the Ambulance where you resumed holding his hand whilst Steve stared at him with wide eyes, knee bouncing nervously as he watched the stuttered rise and fall of his partner's chest. No words were exchanged, he didn’t even look at you he just continued to watch his partner as the ambulance sped through the now emptied streets of Bogota.

The ambulance came to an abrupt stop and the doors swung open to reveal a flurry of Medical staff awaiting your arrival. Javier’s gurney was pulled from the vehicle and wheeled into the hospital where he was then taken to a large room filled with a vast array of different medical equipment. Steve had flashed his badge and the doctors and nurses just let the two of you follow but you were ushered into the corner and forced to watch as they attempted to stabilise him. Alarms start to blare and your stomach dropped, the buzz of activity around the man you loved getting more hectic as a nurse finished up inserting a tube in his throat whilst another attached a bag to the end of it, proceeding to pump air into his dormant lungs as the doctor prepped a machine you most certainly recognised.

‘Javi.’ You sobbed as your knees buckled but Steve caught you before you fell to the floor ‘Javi please.’

SHOCK.

You watch his body arch and your blood goes cold, all colour draining from your face.

SHOCK.

His body arches from the bed again and your eyes roll back, darkness consuming you as you collapse into Steve’s arms.

~

You knew what was happening when it started and you'd sobbed as the contractions got closer and closer together but Connie held your hand as she desperately tried to soothe you. When the time came you were moved to a different room. A room you didn't want to be in. Not yet.

‘I can’t have her now Con.’ You wailed ‘Not without him.’

‘Sweetie she’s coming.’ She said gently, stroking some sweat-slick hair from your brow ‘You need to push Hunny. Please push.’

The doctor between your legs desperately tried to urge you to push along with Connie but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to have this baby without him. He should be there with you, holding your hand as you pushed your baby girl into the world like he'd said but instead you were here and he was undergoing life-saving surgery.

You let out a guttural scream as you were finally forced to push, tears streaming down your cheeks as you desperately tried and deliver your daughter.

‘That's it. You’re doing great.’ Connie said, resting her forehead against yours as you let out another scream as you pushed again ‘One more hun, one more and she’ll be here.’

One more you gave.

You pushed like your life depended on it and you were rewarded with the sound of your daughters cries. It was the most wonderful sound you’d ever heard and for a moment you let yourself revel in it, sobbing as you were handed your daughter. She was small but healthy and Connie assured you that she’d be fine despite being a few weeks early. You studied her carefully and all you could see was him. She already had his hair, surprisingly long and curly and her skin was sun-kissed.

‘She’s beautiful.’ Connie said, placing a friendly kiss on your temple before gazing back down at her.

‘She looks just like him.’ You choked, unable to hold your sorrow back any longer ‘He should be here.’

~

You sat watching him as you cradled your infant in your arms. You’d been discharged the following day but had refused to leave, wanting to remain at Javi’s side until he woke up. He was still in surgery when you’d finished delivering your daughter, the bullet having torn a hole right through him and leaving mayhem in his wake. He was still hooked up to the ventilator, the machine breathing for him so that his body could focus its efforts on healing. You’d been told by the doctors that he was stable and that his chances were favourable but that hadn’t given you the hope that you needed. He wasn’t out of the woods yet.

‘Hun?’ Came a soft voice, averting your attention away from your lover to the doorway where Connie stood with an older man ‘This is Chucho.’ She clarified as she gingerly stepped inside with him right behind her ‘He’s-.’

‘Javier’s father.’ You interrupted, giving him a sad smile before glancing down at your still sleeping baby ‘He’s told me a lot about you, sir.’

‘Please, no need to be so formal.’ He replied, waving his hand at you ‘You and I are tied by blood now. Call me Chucho or even pops if you'd like.’

His kindness brought a genuine smile to your face and you nodded at him before pushing yourself to your feet, wincing from the soreness you still suffered.

‘Is this her?’ He asked as you stepped towards him, beaming at the tiny creature in your arms.

‘Yeah.’ You replied ‘This is her.’

‘Javi wouldn’t stop gushing about how excited he was on the phone.’ He started and the sad smile returned to your face ‘I know he was an idiot in the beginning but he…’ He drifted off as his eyes locked onto his son laying in the bed behind you ‘Oh Javier.’ He sobbed as he walked past you and to his side, taking his hand.

‘I’ll give you a few minutes alone with him.’ You said as you turned to leave and Chucho looked up at you.

‘Stay Mija.’ He said softly, holding out his hand to you ‘Please.’

You sat for some time with few words being passed between you. The doctors came by and after explaining who Chucho was, they'd updated him and you on the agent's condition. He’d remained relatively stony about the whole situation, clearly a man that did not like to put his emotions out there for the whole world to see.

‘I need to feed her.’ You said upon noticing that the baby was getting restless in her Moses basket, something that Steve and Connie had kindly bought you.

‘That’s fine Mija.’ He said sweetly ‘Nothing I haven’t seen before but I can leave if you’d rather be alone?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ You replied, smiling at him as you scooped up the baby up and carried her back to your chair, nodding in thanks when Chucho threw a blanket over your shoulders to give you a little privacy as she started to suckle at your breast.

‘She’s strong despite being early.’ He said as he watched her little legs kick.

‘Takes after her dad.’ You reply, watching as she ate ‘God this feels so strange.’ You chuckled and Chucho reciprocated.

‘My wife said the same thing when feeding Javi.’ He stated, glancing at his son ‘She struggled at first with him. He didn’t seem to want to latch but once he did, well there was no stopping him.’

You laughed at that, imagining a tiny little Javier turning his nose up at breasts. He certainly didn’t now.

‘He’ll pull through Mija.’ Said Chucho, pulling you from your reverie ‘You are going to be a family. He just needs to rest for a while.’

‘I know.’ You replied, eyes settling on Javi as your daughter continued to feed ‘I know.’

Over the next week, you got to know Chucho well. He cooed over your daughter, taking any opportunity he could to cuddle her and who were you to deny him that? He was her grandfather after all. Javier was then taken off the ventilator and you’d all held your breath, saying a silent prayer as you willed him to take a breath on his own and he had. Now his breathing was assisted with just a nasal cannula, his chest movements all his own but he still hadn’t woken up. The doctors told you both to talk to him, that people in a coma can often hear you and so as the days continued to go by, that's what you did along with Chucho.

‘So someone's been a particularly greedy girl today.’ You said as you perched on the edge of the bed ‘She’s definitely got an appetite.’ You continued ‘I wonder who she got that from.’ You asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Nothing.

‘Chucho’s gone to grab some sleep and shower. I said that he was welcome to use my apartment for as long as he needed.’ You paused, eyes glancing up at him ‘He loves her. Can’t get enough of her.’ You continued as you looked down at the sleeping infant in your arms ‘Oh Javi you need to wake up and meet her. She’s tiny but so perfect. Plus we need to give her a name. We never settled on one.’

Still nothing.

‘She has your hair and the most beautiful gold skin, I reckon it’ll get darker too as she gets a little older. Too early to tell whose eyes she has but I think she’ll probably have yours. She’s a little mini-me of you.’

He remains silent.

‘Come on Javi it's been two weeks.’ You grumbled ‘How much more sleep do you need?’ You looked at him expectantly ‘Javi I know you’re tired. I know you’re tired of fighting but I need you to fight for us.’

A groan made you jump and your eyes grew wide as Javier started to fidget, eyes scrunching as more groans escaped his lips.

‘Javi?’’ You asked, cradling the baby with one arm and taking his hand with your free one ‘Baby you with me?’

‘Where am I?’ He rasped, eyes cracking open and scanning his surroundings before coming to settle on you ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You were shot Javi.’ You stated as you gave his hand a squeeze ‘You’ve been in a coma for nearly three weeks.’

You saw the cogs in his mind whirring as he tried to process what you’re telling him but there was also something else in his eyes that scared you. Something that you didn’t want to be the case.

‘Javi I had the baby.’ You stated, lifting her slightly so he could see her ‘Meet your daughter.’

‘I don’t have a daughter!’ He growled, his tone suddenly angry ‘I don’t know who you are.’ He snapped, heart rate increasing ‘Who are you?’

‘Javi? It’s me, baby.’ You sobbed, telling him your name ‘We’ve been together for almost a year. You accidentally got me pregnant but after being a complete douche about it at the beginning you realised you wanted her. Our daughter. You wanted us.’

‘I don’t know you.’ He yells and you flinched, tears streaming down your cheeks as the baby started to wail.

‘Javi please.’ You sobbed but you were soon pulled out of the room so that the nurses and doctors that had entered could check him over.

You rocked the baby in your arms in an attempt to stop her cries, your own tears staining her pink onesies. The doctor emerged a little while later, steering you towards a seat and sitting beside you.

‘He appear to be suffering from memory loss.’ He started in broken English ‘He gone through a lot. It may be from the arresting that it caused some memory loss. It should return with time but need to be gentle with him.’

‘He doesn’t remember me.’ You sobbed ‘He doesn’t remember that we were having a baby together.’

‘That will return with time.’ He replied ‘Patience.’

With that, he left and you gingerly stepped back onto the room, a nurse still inside checking over his IV as he stared at the Moses basket in the corner. You weren’t sure what to do. Should you stay if he doesn’t remember you? Or should you leave and get Chucho to stay with him?

‘Doc tells me that you’ve been here the whole time.’ He says, not taking his eyes off of the basket ‘Said that you and the baby have slept here every night. That my father has been here.’

‘Yes.’

‘Who are you?’ He growled ‘And how have you managed to fool people into thinking that's my kid?’

‘Because she is Javi!‘ You snapped ‘Look at her!’ You say, laying her in his arms ‘Look at her and tell me she isn’t yours.’

Look at her he does and despite having no recollection of you he had felt drawn to you but now as she lay in his arm, he felt especially drawn to her. He looked at her and she looked at him, tiny orbs staring up at him and he smiled.

‘Why don’t I remember?’

‘What is the last thing you remember?’ You asked, taking a seat on the chair beside his bed.

‘Um... I just got a new partner. Steve.’ He stated, glancing at you before returning his gaze to the baby in his arms.

‘Javi that was a year ago.’ You stated ‘You and I met a month or so after he arrived. Practically collided with each other in the hall. I’m a secretary at the embassy. We went out one night and I ended up falling into your bed then it happened again... continuously.’

‘Then she happened?’ He asked, motioning to your daughter.

‘Then she happened.’ You replied, a small smile gracing your lips ‘She’s becoming a right grandpa’s girl you know?’ You chuckled ‘Got him wrapped around her teeny finger’

‘Well we can’t have that can we?’ He said as he looked down at her ‘If I’m your daddy then I need to be the favourite.’ He said to her with a softness that you'd never seen before.

‘Oh, I’m sure you will be.’ You piped up, grinning at him as he let his eyes settle on you again.

‘I’m sorry.’ He said suddenly and you gave him a bemused look.

‘What for?’

‘For not remembering you.’

~

Javier was discharged a few days later but his memories were yet to return. He felt drawn to the baby though and so he accepted her readily but you... You he still a little wary of. He felt something for you. A longing that he couldn't explain and it scared him. It was like his body remembered who you were to him, what you were to him but his mind was keeping that a secret from him. Upon entering his apartment he didn’t recognise the place he’d come to call home. There were photos of the two of you on the wall, ultrasounds images stuck to the fridge and toys everywhere. The spare room had been decorated and adorned with furniture for the baby.

‘When did you do all this?’ He asked, holding his daughter close to his chest.

‘We did this together a few months ago after agreeing your apartment was the better one to live in.’ You stated, clearing a few items ‘My apartments across the hall. Your dad's been staying there. I’ll go fetch him. Let him know you're home.’

Javi simply nodded, watching as you left before turning his attention back to his daughter who was starting to squirm against his shoulder. He supported her head as she leant herself back a little to look at him, her mouth open in a tiny ‘o’ that made him grin at her.

‘You hungry Hermosa?’ He asked as her eyes grew comically wide ‘Well mummy will be back in a moment.’ He paused, his heart sinking as he looked around at the home that he’d clearly shared with you for months but had no recollection of your time together.

‘Hello, son.’ Came a similar voice and Javier glanced up to see his father stood next to you, a smile crossing his face as he took in his son holding his daughter.

‘Pops.’ He replied, nodding his head slightly.

~

Chapter 3

[writingletterstothefire]

hopeful silence

A/N: This fic has taken me a week to write and it’s only 3.1k words. Ugh. But anyway, this is based on a dream I had where I was an undercover DEA agent and Javi found me and stuff ensued. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any future work! I don’t have a taglist just yet, but if there’s enough interest, I’ll make one! Enjoy!

This mission fucking sucked. Why did you agree to this? Yes, it was part of your job description. Yes, you were one of the more talented undercover agents. You liked to thank your background in the high school drama club for those specific talents.

But, shit, this mission sucked. Peña had heard through one of his informants that one of Escobar’s most infamous sicarios would be at this brothel, and someone needed to get on the inside. Unfortunately, Peña being Peña, had to go “meet an informant” immediately after delivering this information, so he was no help in the planning of the mission. With Peña clearly out, all eyes turned to you. You tried to put up a fight, you really did, but as the only female agent in the DEA, your protests meant very little. Trujillo, the bastard, had suggested you go in, under the guise of being a prostitute, and get close enough to be sure the sicario locked eyes on you. From there, you’d lure him into one of the private rooms in the back, where Carillo and his agents would be waiting to take him down and keep you out of harm’s way.

So that’s how you ended up here, in a packed brothel, tugging at your too-short, too-tight, lime green dress and trying not to muss your hair or makeup too much. You felt ridiculous, like a child playing dress up. Your ridiculously high heels were already killing you, as you smiled and chatted with the other girls. As far as they knew, you were new to the area, on the run from an abusive boyfriend, and had a small baby to provide for. Prostitutes with children were extraordinarily common in Medellín, so the girls immediately developed a soft spot for you. They were in the middle of telling you all of the secrets about how to get repeat costumers, when you felt a hand on your waist. It took everything you had in you to not immediately twist the offender’s arm back. Instead, you forced your most dazzling smile onto your face, and turned, ready to pretend to be interested in whatever sleaze had his grubby hands on you, when you got a shock to your system.

Peña. Peña was currently pulling you close by your waist, a half-hearted smirk on his face, but his eyes a mixture of concern and fear. He was pulling you close to look like he was just another paying customer, checking out the new goods.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He whispered roughly into your ear. You did your best to not let show how caught off guard you were, in case anyone was looking, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling as if he said something flirtatious.

“Working, cabrón,” you whispered back.

“So, what? You’re a hooker on the side? DEA not paying you enough?” You felt his hands start to wander up your back, and then suddenly going down, down, down. He was enjoying this too much.

“I wouldn’t fuckin’ be here, had someone not run out to meet an informant before we had a chance to come up with a game plan. I’m here to help Carillo get the sicario. And watch your fucking hands, Peña, before I break character and put your ass in the hospital,” you hissed into his ear.

“You’re what?!” He pulled back, alarming some of the girls around you. He quickly played it off, yanking you closer, and turning so that you were pressed between him and the bar. “Absolutely not. What the fuck were you thinking, putting yourself out there like that? This guy will kill you if he finds out you’re DEA. No. You’re leaving, you’ll pretend you’re coming home with me and we’re getting out of here.”

“You don’t get to have an opinion on the game plan right now, Peña,” You ground out through gritted teeth, tugging him closer by his shirt. You were trying to play along despite your growing irritation. Speaking of growing—

“Are you really getting a boner right now?!” You whispered harshly, glaring up at him. He just smirked in response, his frustration momentarily forgotten. “You’re fucking impossible, Peña.”

The brothel door opened, and you froze, peering over Javier’s shoulder. Sure enough, the sicario strutted in with two other men flanking him. He had dark, slicked back hair and skin the color of café con leche. His green and blue floral patterned shirt had the top three buttons undone, and tucked into his tight, black jeans that sat low on his hips. You felt your mouth dry up as his piercing green eyes scanned the room. Fuck, if he wasn’t a sicario…

Javier snapped his fingers in front of your face, an irritated look in his eyes. “Where the fuck is your head at, muñeca?” He looked between your awestruck expression and the sicario. “Oh, fuck no. You’re not doing this.”

Your attention snapped back to him, angrier than it was before. “You don’t get to make that call, Peña.”

He tugged you closer, whispering in your ear. “Don’t. Blow. Your. Cover.” He was right. If you got too angry with him, your cover of prostitute and customer would be revealed to everyone in the building. You begrudgingly ran your hands up under his jacket slowly, feeling every ripple of muscle in his defined back through his thin shirt. “Good girl.” You tried to ignore the ripple of pleasure you got from hearing those words come from his mouth. “Now listen to me. You can’t handle that sicario. I saw it on your face, you’re already to attracted to him.”

“I’ll be fine, Javi. I can do this, I just need to get him to the back where Carillo is—”

“Would you let him fuck you?” The question was asked so bluntly, it caught you off-guard.

“I-I…”

“If he asked nicely, would you let him go down on you?” Javi’s hands slowly slipped down your back. “Or would you want him to take you without asking? Grab you and use you until there was nothing left for him to take?”

Your breathing was getting heavier and heavier, a high pitched whine escaping your throat as you felt him squeeze at your ass. You felt his mouth on your neck, hot and wet, leaving open kisses in between sucking and nipping at the soft flesh. Your mission forgotten as you pressed closer, you whimpered out, “J-Javi…”

You felt him smirk against your neck, his mustache tickling you as he moved. His hands kneading at your ass had you weak in the knees. You were putty in his hands, and he knew it.

You had never told anyone about your crush on Javi. You knew his reputation, knew he wasn’t the type to settle down. You admired him from afar, keeping enough distance to keep your crush under control, while staying close enough that no one would think anything was off. You were acquaintances. Co-workers. Nothing more, nothing less. But now, with one hand on your ass and one hand making its way to tangle in your hair, and his mouth on your neck, you were sure you’d never recover again.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, princesa. Would you let him fuck you?” Each word in his question was punctuated by a firm nip to the flesh of your jaw or your earlobe.

“N-No, Javi…” It was a lie. Or at least, it would have been a lie the first time he’d asked you. But now, the way he was all over you, all you could think was Javi, Javi, Javi!

He growled in your ear, violently pulling you so that your legs opened enough for him to press his crotch to yours. “Feel what you do to me? Feel how much I want you? I want to rip this stupid fucking tight ass dress off of you. Wanna take you to the back rooms and fucking destroy you, princesa. Make you scream loud enough for that fucking sicario to hear, and Carillo and his men to hear. Make sure everyone knows who’s fucking you so good.”

You gasped, grinding against him, momentarily forgetting that you were in public. “Javi, please!” You whined. “Please take me to the back, fuck--!”

You were near tears as he pulled away from you. He looked as ragged as you felt, pupils blown wide, and chest heaving. He used the hand still tangled in your hair to pull your face close to his. “You’re gonna bring that fucking sicario to the back, and then you’re going to come home with me. Everywhere that fucker touches you, you’re gonna feel me for a fucking week.”

You nodded, whimpering as his hands left your hair, heart fluttering at the way he smoothed it down and wiped some stray lipstick away at the corner of your mouth. You couldn’t wait for this mission to be over.

It took about a half hour of giggling and flirting, but eventually you were able to get the sicario, who was suddenly not nearly as handsome as you initially thought, into the back rooms. He was rough. Too rough for your tastes, but maybe that’s because you knew that his hands were calloused in the wrong places, and had held guns that fired at the people you worked with. The sicario pushed you onto one of the brothel’s hard, uncomfortable beds, and you fought to keep a seductive smile on your face as he crawled over you. After a few moments of kissing and fondling, Carillo and his men burst in just as the sicario was about to rip your dress off. You watched as they took him down, and ignored the Spanish curses he hurled at you. They held no weight for you, considering Carillo was going to off him once they extracted the information they needed from him. The fucker did manage to get a swing in once he’d realized you were in on the bust, and you now had blood trickling from the corner of your mouth, along with what you were sure was going to be an awful bruise on your cheek.

You looked up as the last of the men left the room, and your eyes met Javi’s dark gaze. He beckoned you forward, to which you complied. You couldn’t deny him if you wanted to. He cupped your jaw gently, examining your cheek. His gentle touch was a stark contrast to the way the sicario had handled you. You recalled Javi’s promise to replace the sicario’s touch with his own, and you suddenly felt dirty. You needed Javi to make you clean again. As if he could read your mind, Javi silently guided you out with a hand on your back, and led you to his Jeep, parked at the curb across the street from the brothel. You got in without a word, and watched him as he started the Jeep, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

No words were spoken the entire ride to the apartment complex, and the silence followed you into Javi’s apartment. He brought you into the bathroom and sat you on the edge of the tub. He grabbed a washcloth, running it under warm water to dampen it. He cupped your jaw the same way he did at the brothel, possibly even gentler. As he wiped the blood from your lip, you had the realization that he was also wiping half of your makeup away. You blushed, and went to say something to stop him, but he just pressed his thumb to your lips, shaking his head slightly. The message was heard loud and clear. Don’t worry. He continued wiping the thick makeup away from your cheeks, moving to your forehead, nose, and then ever so gently, your eyes.

When he was finished cleaning your face, he left the washcloth on the sink, and led you to the bedroom. You expected him to jump on you, but he simply sat you on the bed, slipped your heels off of your sore, sore feet, and dug around in his dresser. He pulled out an old shirt and some boxers, laying them on the bed for you. The fragile silence, a silence that had been full of unspoken, yet understood words, was finally broken.

“Shower. Take as long as you need. You can change into this when you’re done.” He cupped your jaw gently again, gazing down at you before pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. He stayed with his lips pressed to your head for a few seconds, before slowly walking out of the room.

You stayed frozen for a few moments, before gathering enough strength to move into the bathroom and shower, letting the water rinse the filth of the sicario off of you. You rinsed out your hair, using the shampoo Javi had on a shelf. A scent that was inexplicably Javi surrounded you. It calmed the uneasy feeling that had settled in the pit of your stomach in the moments between entering the back room of the brothel and Carillo’s men bursting through the door. You hadn’t allowed yourself to think too hard about it while it was happening, but there was an overwhelming fear of what could have happened if they had taken too long to get into that room. You quickly shut off the water before you could slip back into the mindset of those moments.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in Javi’s clothes, you could hear Javi moving around the kitchen. You walked out to see two sandwiches sitting on the counter, and Javi popping the caps off two beer bottles. It was an oddly domestic sight. You wondered if he made sandwiches for every girl he was about to sleep with. You hopped up onto the counter, and Javi turned to you, eyes scanning over your body in his clothes. His lips quirked up in what was the closest thing to a smile you’d seen since before you approached the sicario.

He slid a plate towards you, and stood next to you as you both munched on your sandwiches. Javi finished before you, moving to stand between your legs as you finished. He didn’t touch you, but it was enough proximity to have you scarfing down the rest of your sandwich and pushing the plate aside. As soon as the plate was off your lap, his hands were on you, pulling you right to the edge of the counter. His lips were on yours before you could register what was happening, but you tangled your fingers in his hair the second you recovered. You tried to deepen the kiss, but each time you inched forward, Javi inched back. He was keeping the kiss soft, you realized.

In fact, everything was soft. From the way he gently helped you off the counter and led you to his bedroom, to the way he peeled your shirt off of your body. With every touch, his eyes met yours, searching for permission. That fragile silence was back, but this time it held a different weight. It became clear to you that Javi was doing everything he could to contrast the way the sicario had been touching you. While he’d promised to be even rougher earlier, you both knew that you needed something else now. You needed soft.

The way Javi seemed to know what you needed was enough to bring tears to your eyes. You were quick to reassure him when he froze after seeing your tears, kissing him and softly stroking his hair. You tried to communicate with your eyes, nodding at him, to keep the silence. He nodded back slowly, returning his lips and hands to your body.

Eventually, the silence was broken with the sounds of skin on skin, breathy moans, and the soft calling of each other’s names. When you climaxed, it was with the song of Javi, Javi, Javi on your lips.

When it was over, you waited for him to finish his cigarette before sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

“Where are you going?” You had never, in all the years you’d known him, heard Javi sound so broken. You looked back at him, confused. His eyebrows were drawn together, and one hand was outstretched as if to grab you, but he held it back as to not invade your space.

“I-I thought…” Your eyebrows drew together to match his. “Isn’t this where you kick me out? I…um, I usually hear the girls leave after…”

Javi visibly winced at the mention of you hearing other women leave his apartment. Your apartments were across the hall from each other, and you knew he forgot how thin the walls were. Although, you had to admit that the sounds of women in Javi’s apartment had grown few and far between over the last few months.

“I didn’t…You have to know that those women…They were…” Javi was struggling. He’d never done this before, that much was obvious, but you needed to know what he was going to say. You gently took his still outstretched hand, nodding for him to continue. He took a deep breath before continuing, “Those women were informants or prostitutes. They didn’t mean anything to me. They were there for… information or stress relief. None of them were…were you.”

You inhaled sharply, eyes widening for a second. “So…you’re saying…?”

You didn’t want to get your hopes too high before. You didn’t want to give him the power to send you tumbling to the ground. But now, what he was saying was unmistakable. You just needed to hear him say it.

“I love you,” he breathed out, “and that’s fucking terrifying to me. But I love you. And I want you to stay, if you will.”

You released a long breath, before sliding your body back to its original position, pressed to his side. You looked up at him, gently cradling his jaw the way he’d done to you so many times that night.

“I’ll stay,” you whispered, thumb stroking along his cheek. “I love you, Javi. I’ll stay as many nights as you’ll let me.”

Javi’s hands rose to rest on your cheeks. “Every night, mi amor. I want you to stay every night.”

With that, your lips met. You allowed yourselves to slowly explore each other’s mouths and bodies for a second time that night. The silence that surrounded you now was not the same fragile one that had followed you that night—it was a perfect, light, hopeful silence. There was nothing left to be unspoken between you two. You had tonight and every night after that to tell each other everything there was to say.

[mxndoscyarika]

Red Sunsets (Javier Peña x Chinese!Reader) | Chapter 11: La Mañana Dorada

Author’s note: We’ve made it, everyone! This is the last “official” chapter of the story 🥺 Up next will be the epilogue, which is the moment that inspired this entire series! Thank you to everyone who’s been so supportive of this story and embraced this Chinese reader insert ❤️ Happy New Year!

Summary: Family fights, grudges, and determination. Those three things defined your journey as you navigated through the workings of the DEA. Getting in was hard, and catching Escobar was even harder. You joined Javier Peña and Steve Murphy in the hunt for Escobar, forming bonds and life lessons along the way.

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Red Sunsets masterlist

Warning(s): smut (first third or so, it’s over by the time breakfast rolls by!), food/drink (breakfast lol), restrictive family mention

You woke to sunlight slipping between the blinds, gold streaking across the nest of blankets and pillows that you and Javi built the night before.

It was late by the time you had arrived back at the apartment complex, and you weren’t ready to leave Javi’s arms just yet. You weren’t sure if you ever would be. Not truly. So, naturally, you both wandered into his apartment for the night.

“Good morning,” Javi murmured, pressing his lips to your shoulder.

You smiled and nestled yourself closer to him. “Good morning.” A soft laugh left your lips as you felt him pressing against you. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Maybe.” He nuzzled your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin. Warmth bloomed in your belly as you imagined how he would feel between your thighs. “I can’t help it, sweetheart. I love waking up with you.”

You reached back to sift your fingers through his brown locks. “Shall we take care of that?”

He hummed softly, his hand sliding up your belly to trace circles around your nipple. At your airy moan, he said, “I want to feel you, baby. I want…” His other hand slid under your parties and tapped your swollen clit. “I want to feel you cum around me. Want to take care of you, baby.”

“Please,” you begged, arching into his hands. “I want to see if you can make me cum like this.”

He chuckled softly. “Oh, I know I can. And you must know too...you’re soaked, honey. Is this for me?”

You gasped as his fingers dipped into your folds, the wet sounds heard even through layers of blankets. They filled you deliciously, better than yours ever could, but you wanted more. You wanted something thicker, harder, and longer.

“Please,” you begged again, clenching around his fingers when he pinched your nipple. “I need you inside me.”

“Shhh,” he hushed. “I’ve got you, baby.”

The angle took your breath away. No matter how many times you’d taken him, he always stretched you until you could feel every vein and throb. The tip of his cock was seated right by your g-spot, and every clench around him nearly sent you over the edge.

“So sensitive,” he murmured between kisses. His hands circled your nipples as if they were your clit, rubbing and squeezing them until you felt sparks in your lower belly. Seated inside you, he could feel that you were close. He smiled against your skin as you whimpered and keened against him. “Come on, baby. You can do it.”

You came at the sound of his voice, your body testing up and squeezing around him. The feeling of his cock throbbing and rubbing against your g-spot only prolonged your pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, slipping a hand down to your clit. He chuckled darkly as you bucked your hips into his hand for more. “Cum for me again, sweetheart. Give me all you’ve got.”

“Fuck!” White ecstasy blinded you as you came again, gushing around his cock and soaking his fingers. Your body vibrated from pleasure as he just kept going.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, pushing deeper inside you. The usually smooth thrusts of his hips stuttered as your walls fluttered around him. “Let it all out. Milk my cock.”

“Please,  Javi,” you whimpered, holding his hand in place so he couldn’t leave your clit. “I want you to fill me. Please.”

With a growl, he pulled you against his chest and buried himself to the hilt, thick ropes of his cum painting your walls. He tucked his face against your neck as he let his orgasm wash over his body, his hips bucking slightly in the aftershocks.

You couldn’t help but smile as you felt his warmth fill you up, and lifted your hand to bury your fingers in his hair. “You did so well, honey.”

A huff of laughter. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Humming softly, you snuggled closer to him. “With you? Always.” You smirked. “Though we do like to make a mess, don’t we? We should probably get cleaned up and change the sheets.”

Cleaning up was a quick affair, a nearly normal routine that you’d fallen into since your relationship became official. While you washed up in the bathroom, Javi stripped the sheets off the bed and put them aside to wash. Then, you’d switch and put on fresh sheets while he got ready for the day. More often than not, you finished before he did, which always led you back to the bathroom. Back to him.

“I could get used to this view,” you mused, watching as Javi scrambled some eggs in a pan with chopsticks. Though he wasn’t much of a cook, it made you proud to see that he was expanding his collection of utensils. “You should cook more often, baby.”

“Unless you want to eat eggs on toast for the rest of your life, I’m not so sure you want that,” he teased, bringing over plates piled with glistening eggs and buttered toast.

“Well, I’m sure you could learn how to cook a couple more things,” you laughed. For someone that loved food and exploring local restaurants, it was a wonder that he couldn’t cook. Though you couldn’t blame him; work didn’t always leave much time for cooking. “Like...scrambled egg and tomato with rice It’s just as easy as this.”

“I’ll learn just for you,” he said, turning off the stove and bringing over the plates of toast and eggs. “But until then, I hope these will do.” You two ate quietly, basking in the morning haze. The eggs were fluffy and seasoned with dashes of soy sauce, and the toast was crisp but buttery.

Javi said your name softly.

You looked up from your plate, meeting his dark brown eyes. “Yeah?”

He gulped, then said, “When this is over, when we can go home, I want you to come with me to Laredo. You can meet my papá. We can also go see your family. You always tell me about your grandma, I’d love to meet her.”

You huffed out a laugh, “Are you sure? Do you think you’re ready for that?”

It would’ve been a lie if you didn’t feel a pang of anxiety. Your family wasn’t exactly the most accepting of families, to put it lightly. Hell, you had to fight tooth and nail to get to this point in your career. You knew that. Javi knew that. Those closest to you knew that every moment of self-expression was an act of defiance against your family.

Part of you didn’t want Javi to go through that; to put him through the wringer when all he wanted was to be with you. But at the same time, you couldn’t just ignore your family, just like he couldn’t ignore his.

He reached across the table to hold your hand. “Of course, hermosa. They’re your family.” A small smirk crept onto his face. “And even if they don’t like me...I’m not giving you up that easily.”

The weight lifted off your shoulders. “Then it’s settled; we’ll go home together.”

---

A few months later...

Your last visit to Medellín’s La Candelaria neighborhood didn’t feel like your last. Just like the months before, the narrow streets were packed with Chinese locals speaking in a mix of Spanish and Cantonese. The elderly couple’s herbal shop still stood proudly at the block across from a music school, and the Chinese restaurant with homemade potstickers and empanadas was still tucked away behind a red door with a sign that said “Abierto!”

You squinted against the glare of the sun on the street as you slid out of the car, grimacing as the thick air enveloped you. Sliding sunglasses onto your face, you turned to Javi, who was rounding the front of the car. “Shall we pay our friends a visit?”

The elderly couple at the herbal shop sprung up from their chairs behind the counter and greeted you warmly, taking your hands into theirs and showering you with compliments on how much happier you looked. You couldn’t help but dip your head sheepishly, trying to keep your cheeks from burning. Yes, you were happy. Yes, you and Javi were happy. But there was something you had to tell them.

Gently, you explained to them that you would be leaving the following week to move back to the States. Part of your heart broke as their smiles faded. They knew you moved to Colombia for work, as did Javi, but you hadn’t expected for your time to be up so soon. You weren't ready to let go of the memories you’d created in the country. The past months felt like a century weighed down with work, but as you stood with the love of your life telling your dear friends that you were leaving for good, watching their unbridled joy dimmed just slightly, it felt like only a day.

Your family had kept mostly to themselves in the States, never truly making friends or settling into a community. But you’d promised to yourself that you’d break that cycle. You had promised, and you had delivered. But no one had told you the consequences of delivering on such a promise.

“¿Y vas a regresar a los Estados Unidos con ella?” the old man asked, pointing a finger towards Javi.

He nodded, the lone dimple on his left cheek showing as he smiled shyly. “Pues, debemos visitar a mi papá también, ¿no?” He wrapped his arms around your waist in a hug, just snug enough to make the couple coo. “Va a matarme si no conoce al amor de mi vida.”

That part was still hard for you to believe as well. You were planning to land in Laredo to meet Chuco, then travel back to your hometown so your parents could meet him. You remembered the way your parents had shunned your past boyfriends, finding every reason under the sky to hate them. Looking back, maybe they were right. But for once, you had let yourself find happiness without their approval. What if, even then, they didn’t accept him?

Laughs filled the small shop as the old couple reminisced about your and Javi’s first visit, and how you had started out as nothing more than acquaintances far away from home. And, of course, how you two worked together to bring home a little closer.

Your eyes glistened with laughter as the old lady lectured Javi about the Chinese family customs. His wide eyes told you enough about his experience in bowing and serving your parents tea. Perhaps you’d tell him more about it during the flight.

You wished you could spend hours with the couple, gossiping and digging up memories like aunties having yum cha. In your time living in the area, they had gone to the local dim sum house for exactly that, chatting over steaming baskets of dumplings and flagging down waitresses from across the restaurant. But it was the weekend, and you were not the only patrons that needed attention.

Familiar glass jars lined the aisles like memories as you took one last stroll through the store. In the place where it all began.

Translations:

“¿Y vas a regresar a los Estados Unidos con ella?” You’re going back to the United States with her?

“Pues, debemos visitar a mi papá también, ¿no? Va a matarme si no conoce al amor de mi vida.” Well, we should also visit my father, right? He’ll kill me if he doesn’t meet the love of my life.

Tagging:

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[mrsalwayswrite]

This Night (40s!Bucky Barnes x Hispanic!OFC)

Summary: When she saved a scrawny blond in a back alley, she would never have anticipated the ripple effects it would have. Nor how meeting someone with a pair of baby blue eyes and cocky smirk would draw her in, encouraging her that for one night, to taste revelry like she never had before.

This is my submission for @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ Marvel Diversity Challenge! My prompt was “a little danger never hurt”. 

I am going to admit, I’m super nervous to post this. I’ve never written a person of color before and would be horrified to accidently offend someone. That being said, I also had so much fun writing this piece. I adore 40s Bucky and Steve, so I was excited to finally have the inspiration to write them. 

Few notes:

-All translations are via google and what I can remember from university (if any of my Spanish is wrong, please please please someone tell me and i’ll correct it!)

-I threw in some 40s slang for fun, so that will be in italics.

-In the little research I did (again, someone please correct me if I am wrong), in the 40s there were not many Hispanic or Latino people living in NYC yet. So for my OFC and her family, they would very much stand out. 

Warnings: a few swear words, some angst, sexual tension, topic of racial discrimination and inequality 

Words: 8k (the story kept growing, i’m so sorry)

<gif is from Pinterest>

She clutched the parcel to her chest, trying to avoid the muddy puddles on the sidewalk. Mr. Hendricks would be furious with her if she got any mud on the packaging of the parcel. He always said it reflected his reputation.  

 Weaving through those walking down the busy Brooklyn sidewalk, she could feel the few glares and inaudible comments following in her wake. She tried to ignore it, knowing was not the first nor last time others judged her for her different skin tone. Though she doubted she would ever get used to it. One of her older brothers would try and cheer her up saying the white folks were jealous since they burned when in the sun too long while Spaniards became more beautiful. Without fail, she would smack him but end up laughing along. 

 Peeking at the address scrawled in precise handwriting, she surveyed the street names around. A sinking feeling in her gut confirmed her fear- she had somehow gotten lost. 

“Mierda.” She hissed, turning around in a circle. Not just to try and relocate her whereabouts but on the off chance her mother happened to be behind her to whack her over the head for swearing. 

 Not wanting to be run over by a fellow pedestrian, she stepped off the sidewalk into an alley nearby while she tried to get her bearings. She brushed down the front of her workwear, dark blue, princess style dress with its Peter Pan collar, double pockets and pleated skirt. A glance at her tights showed a couple spots of mud she somehow managed to still get on her even though her kitten heels were still mostly clean. A miracle really. 

 It was only mid-afternoon but Mr. Hendricks hated when she returned late from delivering parcels. He was the best tailor in Brooklyn and practically thrived off that title. He employed her to help keep things organized, the shop looking nice and delivering parcels to their patrons. It was mindless work but that did not bother her. It was a job...and she was lucky to have one. Being from one of the few Hispanic families in the area was not a perk when trying to find work. She knew the only reason she even got this job was she willingly took half the pay he would have given to anyone else, she could sew well, and she was pretty. 

 A crash at the end of the alley drew her attention behind her. There was some hushed talking followed by another sound of something hitting the ground. Hard. 

 Logically, she knew she should walk away. She was already lost. Her mother frequently reminded her to not involve herself in other people's business, it would only get her in trouble. The problem was her curiosity was a near palpable thing, driving her forward, along with her independent streak the size of the Upper Bay. So when she heard what sounded like a smack and another crash, her feet started moving without a second thought. 

 She darted around a half brick wall to find herself at an "L" intersection. And at the end of both alleys, stood a tall man with a face like a bulldog and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, fists at his side. Below him lay a much smaller, blond man who was sprawled out on the dirty ground. The smaller man groaned, rubbing a hand on his jaw. He rolled onto his side, then slowly and painfully rose back onto his feet, his own fists in front of him in a poor imitation of a boxer. 

 "You think you somethin' special, huh?" The larger man jeered, a nasty smirk on his face. He leaned on his back foot, preparing to throw another punch. 

 The smaller man raised his fists but made no other move, prepared to take the hit and most likely go back down. 

 So, she decided to do something stupid. 

 "BILL!!" She cried out, her voice echoing off the brick walls of the alleys. 

 Both men froze, turning to look at her. 

 Tucking the parcel under her arm, she jogged over to the smaller man, uncaring now of the muddy puddles. "There you are, Bill. I've been so worried. You promised to show me where Mrs. Wilcox lives. I tried to find her myself but I got so lost." Ignoring the quizzical look from the blond man, she stood between the two men, meeting the eyes of the larger one. She twirled a strand of her long, black hair around her finger, nerves getting to her but she pressed on. "I'm so sorry for whatever trouble he has caused you. He won't bother you again. We have to go now; our boss will dock our wages if we aren't back soon."

 The man trailed his eyes over her as if looking for a lie tattooed on her skin or dress. Finding nothing of interest, he stared hard at his victim for a long moment. She found herself holding her breath, silently praying her ruse worked. 

 Finally, he rolled his shoulders and unclenched his fists, his thick jowls still tense. "Keep ‘im away from me or next time his ass will end up in the hospital."

 Slowly, she released her breath as she watched the bulldog of a man turn on his heel and stomp away, back down the alley and onto the main sidewalk. 

 "Are you hurt?" She asked, looking over the smaller man. As he dusted off his brown trousers and tan jacket, she was surprised to realize he stood about her height, and probably about her age, in the young twenties. If her guessing was any good. 

 He rubbed his jaw again and winced where an impressive bruise was already growing. "I've had worse." 

 She could not help but smile at his nonchalance. His bright blue eyes met her own honey brown. A timid smile echoed hers, his face so open and expressive. Something about the man she found endearing already. Maybe defending him was not such a stupid action.  

 "All that stuff you said, about lookin' for me and gettin' lost…"

 She huffed a laugh. "I am actually lost. I'm trying to find this address here." She showed him the scrap of paper with the address scribbled on it.

 It took only a glance before he handed the paper back with a smile. "You're not too far. Only three streets away….I... I can take you there if you like."

 "Oh, I'd hate to impose on you."

 "No, it's really fine. Seems you saved me from...well…" He shrugged, sticking his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket. 

 "And... you...don't mind, you know, being seen with me?"

 "No, why?" Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed slightly, he stared at her like that was the strangest question. 

 It was in that moment she knew, whoever this scrawny man was- he was a good man. The difference in their ethnicity made no difference to him. He was a rarity in her experience with most New Yorkers. 

 Even though it was 1940 and this was supposed to be a land of equal opportunity. 

 It was not. 

 With a shrug and momentarily, awkward silence as they both thought about their own answers to his question, they fell into step with one another as they headed back out of the alley.

 "So, what's your name? Or is it actually Bill?" She spoke up once they hit the sidewalk. 

 "Do I look like a Bill?"

 She squinted her eyes then shook her head giggling. "No, you don't."

 "It's Steve…. Steve Rogers."

 "It's nice to meet you, Steve."

 He directed them down another street. Their shoulders brushed occasionally as they walked, due more to their need to maneuver around puddles and other pedestrians than any sense of intimacy. "You gonna tell me your name or do I have to make one up for you?"

 "Oh! Sorry. It's Elana Morales-Díaz. So, what caused the fight?"

 The tips of his ears and cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. "He, um, we...we had a disagreement."

 "Obviously. I would hate to know you're friends and beat each other up for fun."

 "My best friend is a boxer. He's tryin’ to teach me some moves…. does that count as beating each other up?"

 She pretended to think about it. "I may let that one slide but it sounds like you might need some new friends."

 "Yeah," he chuckled and peeked over at her. "Know of any openings?"

 "I just might."

 They stood at an intersection waiting to cross the street when they heard a shout from further down the road. Neither paid much attention initially until the shout repeated itself. 

 "STEVE!"

 The blond looked down the road, a smile on his lips. He waved and tugged on Elana to move away from the curb. She followed along, surprised since he told her they needed to cross. 

 A man glided through the pedestrians easily, a few lingering looks thrown his way by some of the women. When he noticed her standing next to Steve, his eyes widened for a brief moment before a lazy smirk appeared on his face and his strut became more pronounced. With boxing gloves dangling over his shoulder, his white shirt and black trousers, he looked like he just walked out of a gym. Especially with the way his dark brown hair ruffled in the breeze, a few strands sticking up like he had run his hands through it a few times. 

 "I leave you for one afternoon and I come back to find you with the prettiest gal in all of New York." 

 Steve rolled his eyes. "You're always at the gym now."

 The man put Steve in a teasing headlock. Only after a flirtatious wink at her, he released the smaller man. "So, you gonna introduce me to this wolfess, Steve?"

 "Ah, right. Elana, this is my best friend, Bucky Barnes. Buck, this is Elana."

 "Nice to meet you." She said, a small smile at their interactions. It reminded her of her brothers.

 The man -Bucky- reached over and took her hand but instead of shaking it, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, maintaining eye contact the whole time. "Pleasure is mine."

 Oh, he was a charmer. The kind her mother warned her about. Then again, her father had the same devilish charisma and Elana liked to remind her mother of that. To which her mother would laugh and say that's why she warned her daughter of those men, she knew from experience. With just a wink and kiss, she would fall madly in love, leave her home and give him five babies before she even knew it. It was always after this statement often said loudly and with feigned annoyance that Elana's father would wrap his arms around his wife, lovingly kiss her temple and remind her how long he had to chase her before she even agreed to go on a date with him. 

 "So how do you guys know each other?" Bucky asked, those blue eyes bouncing between the two of them. 

 Steve coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. It was then Bucky finally seemed to notice the slowly darkening bruise on Steve's jaw. 

 "Steve!" He grabbed his friend's face and glanced over him, concern etched in his movements and expression. "What happened this time, punk?"

 "Nothin'...just a disagreement. I had 'im on the ropes."

 He dropped his hand, running it through his brunet hair. "You gotta stop pickin’ fights, one of these days…" The implications hung heavily in the air. 

 "Ah, Steve…" When he looked over at her, she nodded toward the parcel still in her arms.

 "Oh right! Sorry. Buck, I gotta take her to drop somethin' off."

 Bucky shrugged. "Lead the way, punk."

 "Jerk."

 The three of them quickly crossed the street. Steve, and soon Bucky when he understood what was going on, pointed out markers for her in case she got lost again. In a short time, they arrived at the house, one of the nicer ones in Brooklyn. The boys waited on the sidewalk as Elana walked up to the front door and handed the parcel over with the man's tailored suit. 

 "Where you off to now, doll?" Bucky asked when she approached them. 

 "Oh, I need to get back to the shop. Mr. Hendricks will most likely be upset with how late I am anyway."

 "The tailorin’ shop near Prospect Park?"

 "Yeah." She played with a strand of her hair, trying to hide her nerves.

 "What a coincidence. We were headed that way ourselves, right, Steve?"

 "What?" Steve looked at Bucky, head tilted in confusion. Bucky cuffed him in the back of the head. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Um, gonna take a nice walk in the park."

 Elana could not help but giggle at the two. With Bucky looking skyward like he was silently praying for patience to deal with his best friend; meanwhile Steve rubbed the back of his head and glared at his best friend. Although she just met them and hardly knew them, she found herself enjoying their presence. Friends were not something she had in great supply...or any supply really. 

 Plus, if she was being honest with herself, she found her gaze drifting to the tall, charming brunet more times than she cared to admit. The butterflies in her stomach did not help the situation. She knew it was foolish. He was attractive and knew it. But when he turned those baby blues on her and winked, she could not help but be drawn to him, like a moth to the flame. 

 "How come we ain't seen you round before? I know I'd remember a dame as beautiful as you round Brooklyn." Bucky said on her left side while Steve walked on her right. Neither one crowded her space. Sometimes one would touch a hand to her back to direct her steps or hold her elbow when she jumped a puddle. It was sweet instead of condescending. 

 She shrugged. "I recently got the job at the tailor shop and I live in Queens."

 They both winced making her laugh. She would never understand this animosity the boroughs had with each other. 

 "Well that explains a lot." Steve muttered. 

 "Hey!" She nudged the blond with her shoulder as she muttered. "Me gusta Queens. Ustedes dos están celosos."

 "What language is that?" Steve asked, curiosity evident. 

 "Spanish."

 "Is that why you have an accent?"

 She nodded, unable to meet their gazes as she answered. "My family moved here from Spain when I was six." Although she had grown up here in New York City, gone to school just like the other kids, she still maintained a slight accent to her words, different from the stereotypical New Yorker's accent. 

 "Say somethin’ else." Bucky smiled down at her. 

 She laughed. "Like what?"

 "I don't know. Anythin’."

 "El cielo es azul. Me duelen los pies con estos tacones. Me he reído más con ustedes dos que en semanas".

 Bucky had almost a dazed look on his face. "That's beautiful."

 "You have no idea what I said."

 "Doesn't matter." The brunet stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Steve can talk in Irish." 

 "Buck…"

 "What?" 

 "I mean, a little." He rubbed the back of his neck. "My ma came from Ireland." 

 Bucky snorted. "You wrote a poem for a girl in the second grade in Irish and read it to her on the playground. I'd say that's more than a little."

 Steve's face was red and jaw dropped as he stared at his friend. "How...how...how do you know that?" He sputtered. "We weren't even friends yet."

 Bucky winked at Elana as he answered. "Gotta be friends with the right people."

 The three of them walked back, talking and laughing. Well it was mostly the boys talking and teasing one another but she enjoyed just listening to their banter. Occasionally they would direct a question to her or she would throw out a remark that had them laughing. 

 She guided them to the back alley of the street front shops. Mr. Hendricks disliked her walking through the front unless she had her work apron on and clean shoes. 

 "Well thank you for helping me and walking me back."

 "It's not a big deal." Steve said. 

 "We'll see you round, yeah? I'd hate to just meet a gorgeous dame like you then never see her again." Bucky threw a wink at her, adjusting the boxing gloves still over his shoulder. 

 She opened her mouth to tease them then stopped. She truly hoped this was not the last time she saw these two. In a spur of the moment decision, she stepped closer to say goodbye. She pressed her cheeks to Steve's first, giving the traditional cheek kiss. She did the same to Bucky, though she had to rise on her toes to reach his face, and she suspected he bent over slightly. 

 "Hasta luego, mis amigos."

 "What was that, doll?"

 She looked from Bucky's smirk to Steve's red face and back. "A traditional goodbye."

 "Mmm…I could get used to that." The boxer teased, nudging his friend who refused to meet her eyes now. 

 She smiled and started to open the back door when Bucky's hand grabbed her forearm, stalling her movements. 

 "Hey, wait." Those baby blue eyes met her honey brown ones. "It's Friday night.  We usually go to the Stork Club for drinks and dancin’. Come with us."

 "Oh, I don't know…"

 "Come on. It'll be great. If it helps, we'll pick you up from your house."

 She could not help the laugh that slipped out at the thought.  "You'd come to Queens... to get me?"

 "It might break my heart to leave my beloved Brooklyn but I'd do it for you, doll."

 "Honestly it'd be dangerous for you to come to my house." 

 "A little danger never hurt." He brushed some of her hair behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine. 

 He was trouble, complete trouble for her...and she knew it. But the longer he stared at her with those pleading eyes and hand now at the nape of her neck, she could feel her resolve crumbling. "I have three brothers and a protective father."

 "They can't be that bad… Come on, please? Steve, help me out!"

 Steve just laughed, raising his hands in surrender. 

 She bit the inside of her cheek thinking about it. Her brother Mateo owed her for when she covered for him when he almost got caught smoking cigarettes behind the apartment building. Tonight, her parents were supposed to visit her eldest brother and his new wife in the Bronx. 

 "Ok…" She whispered. 

 "Yeah?" A beaming grin spread over his face.

 "Ok...I'll meet you there though."

 "Yes!" Bucky bent over and kissed her cheek loudly. "You won't regret it! Nine o'clock!"

 "Nueve. Estaré allí."

 "I still don't know what you said, doll, but I love it."

 She laughed, pushing him away from her. "Go! Before I'm even more late."

 Before they were three steps away, she ducked inside the back of the shop. Hopefully she was able to slip in unnoticed. The shop should be closing soon so Mr. Hendricks would be in his little office room. 

 She leaned against the back door, hands pressed against her cheeks to will away the warmth in them. Thankfully with her brown skin, the blush would be harder to notice. As she stood there, the realization of what she just agreed to finally hit her. An icy fist landed in her gut, drowning the blush away. She had never been to a club before. She had no idea what to wear...or how to act. How was she even going to get there? 

 Underneath the fear though was a determination to go. Why couldn't she have fun for one night, like other young women she regularly saw and envied. Both of those Brooklyn boys seemed nice. Thinking about them brought the flush back to her skin, especially when she thought of the kiss on the cheek from Bucky. He was trouble and fun and charming and devilish and… and she wanted to spend more time with him. And Steve, the sweet, kind, funny guy that he was. She liked them both. But when thinking about those baby blue eyes, insufferable smirk and broad shoulders...her heartbeat sped up and butterflies erupted in her belly. 

 "Oh Dios, ¿qué voy a hacer?" She whispered to herself. 

 *****

 Just after nine o'clock, Elana climbed out of the taxi. She stared up at the sign that brightly screamed ‘Stork Club’. So many people milled about, either walking into the club or chatting, waiting for others in their group. A couple people already looked like they had been hitting the bottles for some time, if the rambunctious yelling and obnoxious laughter said anything. The atmosphere was loud and vibrant with an air of debauchery...and she had not even stepped foot in the door. 

 "Oh Dios, ¿por qué estoy aquí? Estúpido. Tan estúpido. Debería irme. Ni siquiera se darán cuenta." She murmured to herself, her hands wringing the strap on her clutch. Actually, it was not even hers. She "borrowed" it from her mother's closet and prayed that she could return it before her mother noticed.

 "Elana!" 

 At the call of her name, she turned around to see Bucky and Steve crossing the street, dodging a car that decided they were taking too long. 

 "You made it!" Bucky exclaimed, bubbling with excitement. He scanned her over, giving a low whistle. "Damn, doll, you look beautiful."

 "Gracias." She smoothed down her floral-patterned tea dress that reached mid-calf, her kitten heels still on from earlier. Her raven hair hung loosely down her back, unstyled in the typical curls that most women wore. There had been no time to try one of those hair styles and not bring attention to herself before she snuck out. Just to make her even more self-conscious, the cherry red lipstick she wore felt heavy on her lips. Something she only wore on rare occasions. "You fellas clean up nicely."

 Checking over them, they each wore nice suits. Though Steve's looked a size or two too large and the prominent bruise on his cheek ruined the look a bit. Bucky was practically sinful in his suit, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs, his hair slicked back. Improper thoughts flooded her mind and a heat warmed her cheeks. She had a feeling she would need to go to confession tomorrow. That was tomorrow’s worry though, tonight was about fun.

 "Ready to have the time of your life?" Bucky asked, excitement practically bubbled under his skin. 

 "That's a high standard."

 "Guess I better not disappoint. C'mon!" He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the crowded, open door. In her sudden fear, she reached back and snagged Steve's hand, dragging him along. She would never admit it but having both of them on either side of her made her feel better. 

 There were several different calls for Bucky, vying for his attention. He just waved or yelled something back but kept her hand in his, pulling them through. She noticed more than one disappointed female face when Bucky passed them. It churned something in her stomach which she tried to ignore. 

 When they finally entered the dance hall, she froze. It was nothing like she imagined and so much better. At the far end was a stage with a large band playing an upbeat song that made her bounce on her toes without realizing it. A large bar area was set up, packed with people already looking for something to wet their throats. Booths and tables lined the walls. Already the hardwood, dance floor looked packed with couples jiving. Mirrors and photographs hung on the walls making the place feel bigger even when it was so crowded. The air smelled of alcohol, sweat and a youthful zeal she had never experienced. 

 It was intoxicating and nerve-wracking. She could not wait to join in. 

 The next thing she noticed when she glanced at all the people...she was the only non-white person there. 

 "Let's get a table." Bucky tugged them along towards an open booth on the right side of the dance floor. 

 She slid in on one side while Steve scooted in on the other. Bucky stood at the end, grinning ear to ear as he seemed to quickly survey the place. 

 "Right." He tossed his suit jacket on the seat next to her then clapped his hands, the sound muffled by the volume from the band nearby. "What kinda drink would you like?"

 "Ah, vino?"

 He nodded and waltzed towards the bar, throwing an arm around the shoulder of one of the men standing there waiting. 

 She turned back to the blond. "You're not drinking?"

 "Nah, too many health issues to make it worth it." 

 She hummed and took note of Steve's fidgeting. "Is this your first time too?"

 He chuckled. "No. I just don't...well, this isn't where I'd prefer to be on a Friday night...but don't tell Bucky... though he probably knows."

 "What would you rather be doing?"

 "Drawin’ or paintin’, maybe playin’ cards but I'm terrible at them."

 "You're an artist?" The realization warmed her heart. This scrawny man with a heart too big for his body and kindness an invisible cloak around him. It made sense somehow. He could look past the ugly and see beauty and somehow capture it. 

 "I don't know if I'd say that...I just enjoy it. It's usually what I end up doin’ when I come here. Doodlin’ on a napkin while Buck dances with every girl he can."

 Her stomach dropped while hearing that, which was stupid. So stupid. She swallowed thickly, hoping Steve did not notice, before she spoke again to distract herself. "Well if you doodle something tonight, can I see it after?"

 "If you like."

 Bucky appeared a minute later with a foamy glass of beer and a glass of red wine. Carefully, he placed them both on the table. "Ready to cut a rug?" He asked, looking at her expectedly. 

 "Um, I don't...I've never danced like this before." She hesitantly admitted. Steve gave her a sympathetic smile like he understood. 

 "Don't matter. I bet you're a swell dancer." He held out his hand for her. When she did not immediately accept his hand, he wiggled his fingers. "C'mon, ain't that hard. I'll teach you."

 With a sigh, she took his hand, his smile beaming as he tugged her out of the booth. She could not help but smile back at his sheer enthusiasm. It was contagious. 

 He led her off to the side of the dance floor. Putting one hand on her lower back and taking the other in his hand, he began demonstrating the steps. Her eyes stayed glued to his feet while he moved, willing her brain to understand and not make a fool of her. 

 "You got this, doll. Told you, you're a natural. Just follow my movement, let me lead."

 So she did and before she knew it, they were flying around the dance floor. 

 Bucky was an amazing dancer and it showed in how he effortlessly led her. A couple times she stumbled or stepped on his toes but he would just grin and encourage her to keep going. The faces of those around them blurred. The music seemed to sink into her blood and with every beat of the drum or clap of the hands from the band, her heartbeat echoed it. It was intoxicating and she had not even had a sip of alcohol. Now she understood why people flocked to these dance halls. There was something freeing in them, losing yourself to the music and movements. For a short time, you could ignore the outside world and all its trials. Here, you could be free. 

 Eventually she begged a break, practically panting from the several songs they danced through. The brightness in her eyes and smile though showed how much fun she was having. Still holding hands, they weaved through the crowd back to their booth where Steve sat with a napkin in front of him, pencil in hand and eyes focused downward. She slid into the booth first, Bucky right behind her. 

 "Have fun?" Steve asked, eyes bouncing between the two before him. 

 "I can't breathe." She giggled out, hand pressed to her chest. Her lungs struggled to fill up properly but instead of installing fear into her, it only made her laugh. 

 Bucky took a long sip of his beer and slung his arm behind Elana, on the back of the booth. "Told you, you'd have fun. You're a great dancer."

 "Only cause I had a great teacher." Taking a sip of her wine, she focused on the quiet artist.  "Did you draw something, Steve?"  

 "Yeah, just a little sketch."

 "Can I see it?"

 He slid the napkin over to her, nerves obvious. Giving him a small, reassuring smile, she flipped the napkin over and felt her heart stop and jaw drop. The pencil sketch was of Bucky and her dancing. His mouth was next to her ear, whispering instructions or flirtatious comments, his hand on her lower back. Her gaze was on his chest but the brilliant smile on her lips gave her away. The sketch was so realistic, it was astounding. It completely captured Bucky's confidence and her nervousness but somehow the opposite emotions only added to the image, bringing a sense of balance and trust between the two dancing partners. 

 "Steve, esto es…. hermoso…. increíble." She breathed out, never taking her eyes off the napkin. When she finally looked up to see him blushing and fiddling with the pencil, she smiled. 

 Bucky had been leaning against her so he could see the sketch also. "That might be your best one yet, pal."

 "Thanks, guys. S'nothing."

 "May I keep it?" She softly asked, eyes tracing the delicate lines and shading.

 The embarrassed blond flapped a hand at her. "Course. It was for you if you wanted it anyway."

 Silently, she reached across and squeezed Steve's hand, unable to convey all the emotions she was feeling. "There's one thing you got wrong."

 "What's that?"

 "I'm not that pretty."

 Both Steve and Bucky chuckled.  

 "Elana," Bucky started, gazing down at her. "He drew you like-"

 "Bucky!" A silky voice interrupted. A young woman stood at the end of their booth. Her blonde hair in perfect curls, bright red lipstick matched the equally bright red dress she wore. Her eyes zeroed in on the handsome brunet at the table, ignoring the other two patrons like they were just wallpaper. "Wanna dance?" 

 The sun-kissed woman could feel Bucky's hesitation. Nudging him gently in the ribs, she nodded towards the interloper. "Go. Have fun. I still need to catch my breath."

 With a nod, he slipped out of the booth and followed the beautiful woman onto the dance floor. The two easily fell into step like they had done this a million times, each movement flawless and smiles on both of their faces. 

 She turned back to Steve, ignoring the churning in her gut. "What's your favorite thing to draw?"

 They talked for a few minutes about art classes he had taken and the few commissioned pieces he had done for local businesses. The passion he spoke with about art, hands flapping and eyes alight, it was impossible not to join in his enthusiasm. 

 The presence of someone standing at the end of the table drew their attention away from the quick sketch of a monkey Steve had drawn on another napkin. This young woman had a haughty expression on her otherwise pretty face, glaring down her nose at Elana. 

 "You shouldn't be here." She stated, venom lacing every word. Hands on her curvy hips, the gold stitching in her emerald dress catching the light from above. 

 "Ruby, we-"

 "No one is talkin’ to you, Steve." She barked then continued glaring at Elana. "I bet you're a real floozy, comin’ in here lookin’ like that. Well news flash, no one wants you or your kind here."

 Tears stung in Elana’s eyes, threatening to fall. She knew this would happen. It always happened. There was always someone to remind her she was not one of them, even if her own eyes could see it. She had hoped tonight would be different. That for once, she could fit in. 

 "I want her here. She's my date."

 The lady -Ruby- spun on her heel so quick, her dress flared out. "Bucky," she crooned, her voice sugary-sweet, so different than a moment ago. "You're lookin' like a real Fred Astaire out there tonight. Let's go-"

 Bucky did not even look her way as he slid back onto the bench, eyes focused on Elana. "You alright there, doll?"

 She nodded numbly, staring at the table. Twirling a strand of hair absent-mindedly around her finger, she tried to force the tears from falling. It was not even the worst insult she had heard hurled at her, but it still cut her to the quick. Every time. 

 "Why don't we head out, yeah? Steve there looks like he's gettin' a little warm and the music ain't so good tonight." Bucky said gently. 

 She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. 

 "Bucky, stay…" Ruby tried one last time but he leveled a glare at her that made her take a step back. 

 "Take a powder, Ruby, I ain't interested."

 Bucky wrapped his hand around Elana's, entwining their fingers as he slid out of the booth with her right behind him. Without even a backwards glance, he led the three of them out of the dance hall. Elana kept her head down the whole time, unable to meet anyone's eyes for fear of what she would see. 

 The night air was blissfully cool after the heat of the dance hall. It kissed her skin as if trying to help calm her down. At this point, the street was not as busy, everyone mostly inside now. Only a few pedestrians and cars interrupted the quiet scene. 

 "Elana, I'm so sorry."

 "Debería irme. No debería haber venido. Soy tan estúpida." She muttered to herself, not even hearing Bucky's statement. It was a foolish idea to come out. For so long she had tried to fit in, especially as a child. Her mother always told her to be herself and embrace her difference. That was easier said than done. Tonight felt like a taste of it when she was on the dance floor. What things could have been like if everyone was accepted. If where she was from did not matter. She had been so happy dancing with Bucky, this handsome devil who treated her like she was special, holding her hand in front of everyone. Sure, Steve said he danced with a lot of girls but for tonight, she was someone while on his arm. She was someone special. 

 And oh, did she love the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers. Him holding her close as they danced, his warm breath hitting her neck just right. He was trouble, through and through. Her mother would call him a Casanova and tell her to run the other way. Yet she did not want to. He drew something out of her. An almost recklessness. A desire for more. More in life. To experience life with a passion. Both this new feeling and Bucky’s presence were addicting...and she found herself unable to turn away. At least not for tonight. She wanted to revel in it tonight. 

 It was not until a hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head up to meet a pair of worried baby blue eyes that she was jolted from her internal spiral. 

 "Hey, hey. I have no idea what you're sayin' but it don't sound good. Why don't we walk for a bit, mmm? The night's still young."

 Wordlessly, she followed. It was then she noticed Bucky was still holding her hand, palms flat against one another's. That realization drew a small smile on her lips. On her other side walked Steve, hands in his pockets but a genuine smile on his face when he caught her eye. Even after all this, these two Brooklyn boys wanted to be with her. With that in mind, she shoved her despair and pain away. Let tomorrow bring what worries that came with it. Tonight she wanted to be reckless without fear of the consequences. Tonight was supposed to be fun.  

 "Can't believe Ruby would say that. Always thought she was a nice dame." The brunet mused, slipping his suit jacket back on before taking Elana's hand once again.

 "She only showed what she wanted you to see, Buck."

 "Dance with a girl a couple times and she thinks you owe her or somethin'."

 The blond quirked an eyebrow at his friend.  "Was it only dancin'?"

 "What you gettin' at, Rogers?"

 "You ditched some other girl for her once before."

 His head swiveled to stare at the smaller man in shock. "I did?"

 Elana spoke up. "Sounds like you have quite the selection of dance partners to choose from."

 Steve snorted. "Guy has been doll-dizzy since he was twelve."

 "What can I say? I appreciate fine art." Bucky said with a self-satisfied grin.

 "Don't usually lock lips with paintings or statues…"

 "You know what, Rogers!"

 Elana laughed as Bucky let go of her hand to race around her and put Steve in a headlock. The two pretended to box for a couple minutes, grins on both their faces. When finished, the champion boxer slid up to her, a rakish smile teasing his lips as he claimed her hand back.

 "Well if those gals are fine art, you sweetheart, are a masterpiece." He twirled her around once, making her dress flare out around her legs. "Have I told you yet how beautiful you look tonight?"

 "Yes, Bucky."

 "Good, I'd hate for you to forget." He winked and the trio started walking again. 

 "Oh, here." Steve suddenly said, fishing something out of his pocket. He held out his hand almost shyly.  

 She took the offered item to see it was the napkin with the sketch on it. "Oh, Steve. Muchas gracias." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red stain behind. "Oops."

 "Here." Bucky tossed over a handkerchief to Steve. 

 She glanced at the napkin one more time before reverently placing it in her clutch. She already knew where she was going to put this in her room so she would always remember this night.

 "Oh drat." Steve said after glancing at his watch. "It's almost eleven. I have class early tomorrow."

 "Go on, punk. I'll look after her."

 Elana hugged Steve and was thrilled when he squeezed her back just as tightly. "I'm so happy to have met you."

 "This isn't goodbye, right?"

 "I hope not. You have more artwork to show me."

 He blushed yet nodded before giving Bucky a quick hug. 

 "Night, Steve."

 "Night, jerk."

 Together, they watched Steve walk down the sidewalk, wave back at them then disappear down the next street. 

 "Wanna keep walkin'?"

 She nodded. She knew she should go home. It was getting late and she still had to get back to Queens. Yet walking side by side with this man whom she had only met several hours ago, she found the idea abhorrent. Glancing up at the night sky, only a couple of the stars were visible through the smoke, clouds and street lamps. They were lovely though, a reminder that there were greater things out there, one just had to look for them. At least, that is what her father always said. 

 "Hey," Bucky's voice pulled her attention back, "I never got to say it earlier but thanks...for havin’ Steve's back earlier today. Punk doesn't know when to quit."

 "I'm glad he got in that fight...is that odd? If he didn't, I wouldn’t have met either one of you."

 "Alright, this ONE time I'm glad he got in a fight. Though, we probably would have ran into each other eventually."

 They walked in comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Two cars passed them separately and only a handful of people walked their way. Otherwise it almost felt like they were alone. It was peaceful, still holding hands and wandering the streets of Brooklyn.  

 "Y'know, I was kinda hopin' we'd get at least one slow song at the dance hall."

 "Me too." She confessed. 

 "Well, we should!" An idea sparked in his eyes. "Wait here." He moved over to one of the parked cars near them. He tried to open it but it was locked so he moved to the next one. This one opened without hesitation and he slid in. The whole time Elana switched between watching Bucky and scanning the streets for someone to yell at them. What was he thinking? Suddenly music came on, drifting from the radio through the open passenger door. 

 Bucky stood there, leaning against the car with the biggest grin on his smug face. "Who needs a dance hall?"

 She laughed, understanding what he had done. "We’re going to get in trouble."

 "No, we ain't. C'mon."

 "Oh, Dios mío, yes we are!" 

 "Dance with me." He cooed, standing before her looking like an Adonis. 

 With that lazy smirk and enthralling blue eyes staring down at her, refusal was not an option. The words died on her tongue as she stared up at him. The music was slow, a singer crooning about his love. The moment felt like something from a fairytale story her mother would tell her as a little girl. She knew she should go home. Stop this heat that seared through her when she found herself caught in his eyes. Stop the butterflies in her stomach when around him. Stop the way she melted under his touch, his hands always so gentle. 

 But she wanted this. Right now. To pretend this was her reality. To dance with her prince under the stars. That love did not care about the differences in their skin tones. For when the sun rose and this dream faded, reality would seep back in. Plus, he was a charmer. Doll-dizzy. She would not keep his attention past this night. 

 For now though, she could pretend. Enjoy the night in a way she never had before. 

 He placed her hands behind his neck and his on her hips. Standing there under the streetlight and distant starlight, they danced, swaying back and forth. Her head landed on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath it. So steady and soothing. The world faded away around them, the only things that mattered was their dancing and the music. It wrapped around them like a warm, thick blanket. Enveloping them in a sense of security and vitality. One of his hands slowly traced her spine leaving a trail of fire behind. His cheek pressed against the top of her head. She felt safe...and wanted. A heady feeling that she could sense herself beginning to crave even more. Her hand tangled in the hair, her fingers lightly scraping the back of his neck. 

 "Say something in Spanish." He whispered, his lips against her scalp. 

 "Gracias por esto ... todo esto. Ha sido la mejor noche de mi vida".

 She looked back up at him, hoping to convey without words what she said. As she lifted her head up, their eyes locked. Tension filled the empty space around them, pulling them closer. For a split second, his eyes drifted to her lips and back up. Her heartbeat began racing anew. Slowly, as if waiting for her to turn away, his head tilted towards hers, his hands gripping her just a little tighter. His breath fanned across her face, warming her inside and out. She swore her heart was going to beat out of her chest. His nose brushed hers, an almost timid action that drew a smile from her. He chuckled silently then somehow pulled her even closer. She closed her eyes, a gasp escaping her when she felt the faintest touch of his lips on the corner of her mouth. 

 "Hey! Hey, you kids! What ya doin’ with my car?!" 

 All the tension evaporated like rain drops under the scorching sun. 

 "Shit...c'mon!" He grabbed her hand and started running away. Holding on tight, she ran next to him, as well as she could while wearing heels. The yells of the car's owner soon a distant sound behind them. 

 Finally, they stopped two streets later. He let go of her hand, running his hands through his hair and pacing. She leaned against the brick wall, hand over her mouth, giggles spilling forth between gasps of air. Never in her life had she done anything like this. She closed her eyes as the giggles turned into full-body laughter. One hand covered her mouth and the other wrapped around her own waist to try and contain the sound. This night was nothing like she expected but it only seemed to get better and better. This newfound revelry of youthful zeal, this silly recklessness...she wanted more and more of it. 

 When the laughter dissolved into small chuckles, she wiped her eyes as she opened them, hoping her make-up had not smudged too much. Not that she particularly cared in the moment.

 What she saw standing before her killed the laughter on her tongue. 

 Bucky stood just at arm's length, staring at her like she was the stars in the heavens. 

 In a single step, he crowded her against the brick wall. "Elana…" he growled, voice low, and it might have been the most exhilarating sound she had ever heard. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, as he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, their lips just pressed together. A soft pressure that made her melt into his arms. 

 He leaned back to press his forehead against hers. His breath just as shaky as hers, both still breathing hard from their run. 

 "That was my first kiss." She blurted out, immediately regretting the words once they escaped. 

 He leaned back to look her in the eye. "Really?"

 She shrugged nervously. "Not many fellas lining up to kiss a girl like me."

 "Their loss, doll face." He smirked, running a thumb over her bottom lip. "May I have the honor of your second kiss ever?"

 She giggled and nodded. 

 This time when their lips touched, it felt like more. The first was like licking the spoon used after mixing cookie dough. A taste of what was to come. The second kiss was eating warm cookies right out of the oven and practically ascending to heaven. 

 His lips slanted over hers perfectly, as if they were formed just for her. Their mouths moved in tandem, picking up speed. No longer were the kisses sweet and gentle. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she willingly opened her mouth to receive it like a present. These kisses were all-consuming and fiery. It was as if his touch seared into her soul, leaving an imprint there for all eternity. 

 She knew right away when she met Bucky Barnes, he was trouble. He was the kind of man her mother warned her about. The kind to sweep her off her feet and make her forget the world around her. He was kind, charming and so full of life. Yet she knew even as she was wrapped in his arms, lips pressed against his, that there was one truth that would haunt her. Even if she ignored it for now. That truth would never leave. So she overlooked it, sinking deeper and deeper into his kisses and embrace. Drowning herself in him. With her back pressed against the wall, her hands tangled in his hair and mouths devouring one another, she had never felt more alive. 

 Tonight, she would choose the fire he poured into her. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy life without fear. Tonight, she wanted to pretend that this night would never end. To thrive in this feeling of passion and life, that nothing could go wrong. 

 For the truth was one day, he was bound to break her heart.