#this game reached out to the little girl of me and ripped her heart out and held her so gently

[yurious-george]

thinking about how solanum described how the universe would end for her school project :) and her teacher comforted her by saying she wouldn’t be around to witness it :) and then at the end of the game :) she does anyway :)

[gothcsz]

final part of the neighbors series. well, everyone... we made it to the devastating end of our beloved neighbors! did i think we'd get here so fast? absolutely not, but alas we must face the truth that these two were doomed from the beginning 💔 thank you to everyone who has stuck around for this little series, i so appreciate it more than you know! please let ya girl know what you think hehe happy reading 🖤 thank you to @persephone-girl, @myownwholewildworld and @ovaryacted for helping me along the way 🥹

javier peña x f!reader. ~16k word count. the angst we've become familiar with, some new years vibes, canon typical violence (please proceed with caution), speaking of canon the timeline is way out of wack but we don't care okay (?), spanish heavy dialogue at times because i love writing in spanish (translations included), character death (bye bye mateo), reader has a mild case of agoraphobia, smut (hopefully it makes up for the heartbreak), unprotected p in v sex (this is fiction be smart irl), oral (f receiving), creampie kink!!!, hurt/no comfort?, guess what: javi is a piece of shit, no happy ending!!!, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay thanks.

The days bleed into one another in a haze of pain, anxiety, and Javier’s unwavering presence.

His apartment has become your sanctuary as your body mends—slowly, achingly—but the weight of the world outside these walls makes every step toward recovery feel like a climb up a mountain.

He hovers without smothering, a balance that only someone as attuned as him could manage. He cooks poorly, though his effort is enough to warm your heart. 

And when dinner inevitably becomes charred beyond recognition, he humors you with a begrudging sigh before ordering takeout from a local spot.

Connie checks in as often as she can. Her competence is a balm in itself, bringing company in the form of the orphaned baby girl they’ve taken in, and gentle scolding when you try to do too much too soon.

You’re definitely going stir-crazy on top of all the other shit you’re still processing.

His bedroom is practically yours now, the space filled with your things from a hurried list you’d made after he went to clear your apartment, ensuring it was safe and untapped. 

You could go back, but you don’t want to. Not yet. Not when every shadow feels like it’s going to swallow you whole, and not when the thought of leaving Javi’s protection makes your stomach tighten with anxiety.

Tonight is no different, the silence of his apartment familiar. Javier is sprawled on the couch in the living room, his gun within arm’s reach on the coffee table, the TV playing some late-night soccer game at a low volume.

You’re in his bed, wrapped in the blankets that carry the scent of him.

The nightmare rips you from your sleep and into a cold sweat. Your screams shatter the quiet, piercing through the walls like a siren. Javier is on his feet in seconds, gun in hand, his instincts sharp as ever, heart pounding as he rushes into the bedroom.

He bursts through the door, his eyes scanning for threats before they land on you. You’re sitting up, clutching your head in your hands, your body shaking with sobs.

Javi approaches slowly, cautious yet reassuring as he sets the weapon down on the nightstand. “It’s me, cariño. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

The sound of his voice breaks through your panic, and you look up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, your breathing ragged. Without thinking, you throw yourself into his embrace, your face burying into his chest as his strong arms wrap around you.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” you sob into his shirt, your fingers clutching at the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely.

Javier keeps you cradled in his lap, feeling helpless as he tries to console you, resting his chin on the top of your head, rubbing your back soothingly. He doesn’t know what to say, and he hopes you don’t take his wordless comfort the wrong way.

Your tears don’t stop, but the steady thumping of his heart and steadying breaths begin to calm the overpowering emotions that stab at you all over. “They k-keep finding me,” you whisper hoarsely. “In my dreams. Mateo, his men… They hurt you, Javi. They kill you, and I-I can’t stop them.”

His jaw tightens, the familiar strike of anger igniting deep in his chest. But he controls it, his focus entirely on you. “That’s not going to happen,” he says with quiet intensity. “I won’t let it. You’re safe here, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way. They’ll never touch you again.”

Even though the fear still lingers, you nod against him, your tears finally slowing. “I’m scared,” you admit in a hush, as if the city can hear you.

“I know,” his lips replace his chin with a soft kiss placed at the crown of your head. “You’ve got every right to be, but not for much longer. Te lo prometo.” (I promise you)

He holds you close, his mind racing. He knows the nightmares won’t stop until Mateo is dealt with, and the thought of you living in fear makes his blood boil.

Tomorrow, he decides, he’s going to make a move. Berna’s contact information has been burning a hole in his wallet, reminding him of the quickest way to get his justice.

Whatever it takes, whoever he has to call in, Mateo will pay for what he’s done.

He stays with you, his arms a fortress around your trembling body as you finally begin to drift back into an uneasy sleep.

When your breathing finally evens out and sleep welcomes you again, Javier doesn’t move right away. He keeps you in his embrace just a little longer, as if afraid that letting go might wake the nightmares again.

Eventually, he carefully shifts, lowering you back onto the bed. He tucks the blanket snugly around your shoulders, his movements unhurried. For a long moment, he doesn’t leave, his gaze fixed on your face.

Your lashes rest against your cheeks, still damp from tears, and your lips curve downward in a soft, unconscious pout. There’s a faint crease between your brows, as if even in slumber, you’re holding onto the pain. His heart aches at the sight.

Even like this, fragile and hurting, you’re still so beautiful.

He leans in without thinking, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there for just a moment longer than they should, as if willing his affection to seep into your dreams and chase away the darkness.

With gentle fingers, he smooths the furrow from your brow, hesitating as he straightens. His eyes trail over you one last time before forcing himself to turn away and leave, returning to his spot on the uncomfortable couch.

Every step he takes toward the usual meeting spot feels heavy, hindering, like the universe is daring him to find another way; a constant reminder of the ethical line he is about to cross yet again.

He’s not about to let what happened to you fall into the cracks of this crumbling country.

Does this really make him any better than Mateo? Than the rest of the assholes he’s spent his career hunting? The question whisks around in Javier’s mind, relentless and accusatory, every time he looks in the mirror or stares down the barrel of another wasted day.

He tells himself the same justification every time: You’ve got to do bad things to catch bad people. You have to stoop to their level to get the job done. Get your hands dirty alongside them. 

But the words taste bitter, even as they leave his mouth. It’s not a mantra—it’s an excuse. One he clings to, because if he doesn’t, he’d have to face the man he’s become.

It’s a betrayal. Of the ideals he once believed in. Of you.

You wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t dare accuse him outright of something so low, but he can see the questions in the way your eyes search his when he comes home in the middle of the night, reeking of sweat and moral compromise. 

He’s doing this for you. It’s about justice, about making things right. But deep down, he knows it’s not just that.

It’s about vengeance.

He steps into the shop, the smell of authentic Colombian food and coffee hitting him all at once.

Berna is already seated, a bulky figure crammed into a chair that seems too small for him, like a predator disguised as a civilian.

His beady eyes flick up as Javier approaches, a greasy grin spreading across his face. “¿Nos volvemos a reunir tan pronto? ¿Me extrañas o qué, Peña?” (Meeting again so soon? Do you miss me or what?) he asks, lifting the tiny cup with fingers that seemed more suited to take lives than hold porcelain.

Javier slides into the seat across from him, the legs scraping against the tile floor. “¿Obtuviste la información que te pedí sobre el banquero?” (Did you get the information I asked for about the banker?) His voice is clipped, wasting no time on pleasantries.

He reaches into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out the photograph of Mateo to remind the other man why he’s here. The paper is crumpled from how many times he’s clenched it in his fist, a physical manifestation of his frustration.

He unfolds it carefully and places it on the table, sliding it between them.

Berna doesn’t even blink, his gaze dropping to the photo with all the urgency of a man just leisuring about. He stirs his coffee lazily, adding another spoonful of sugar. “¿Y yo que gano?” (What’s in it for me?)

Javier’s jaw ticks, the muscle feathering beneath his stubbled skin. He knows this game, has played it too many fucking times—it grates on him. “Lo de siempre,” (What it always is) he replies gruffly. “Esto no es diferente a nuestros otros acuerdos.” (This isn’t any different than our other agreements)

Berna leans back in his chair, his bulk shifting the chair with a creak. “Seguro?” (You sure about that?) he asks, patronizingly, as he taps the edge of the photo with a stubby finger. “Javiercito, ¿sigues dejando que las mujeres dirijan tu vida?” (Javiercito, still letting women run your life?) He tuts, “Pero no te culpo. Una buena perra debilita hasta al hombre más fuerte.” (I don’t blame you. A good bitch debilitates even the toughest man)

He curls his fists under the table, blunt nails digging into the skin of his palms, willing himself to stay seated. His patience is running thin, making his leg bounce rapidly. 

“No se trata de eso,” (That’s not what this is about) Javier grinds out through clamped teeth.

Berna barks out a laugh, leaning forward slightly. “Esto no funciona si nos decimos mentiras.” (This won’t work if we tell each other lies) His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper now, though his smug smile remains wide. “Lo estás buscando por la orden que envió.” (You’re after him for that call he sent out)

Javi’s irritation is momentarily replaced by intrigue. He straightens slightly. “¿Cual orden?” (What call?)

Berna’s grin grows wolfish, pure amusement bubbling into an obnoxious, rumbling laugh that fills the small space. “¿Ves? Lo sabía.” (See? I knew it) He wags a thick finger at Javier, like a teacher scolding a disobedient student. “Tu banquero hizo una llamada para deshacerse de su mujer. Una empleada de la embajada. Americana. Vos lo sabes mejor que nadie cómo se sienten estos tipos cuando matan a un Americano, especialmente a una tan insignificante… y muy bonita, por lo que he oído.” (Your banker made a call to get rid of his girl. An embassy employee. American. You know better than anyone how these guys feel about killing an American, especially one so insignificant… and very pretty, from what I hear)

Javier’s gut twists at the confirmation of something he practically already knew.

“Emputó a muchos con ese truco. Huyó como un cobarde. Supongo que por eso estás aquí. Por ella.” (He pissed a lot of people off with that trick. Ran away like a coward. I guess that’s why you’re here. Because of her)

Javier flicks his tongue across his teeth.“Eso no importa,” (That doesn’t matter) he retorts lowly. “Sólo necesito saber dónde está... el y esos hijos de puta que cumplieron la orden.” (I just need to know where he is... and those two motherfuckers who followed through with the order)

Berna hums as he strokes his chin like he’s considering it. “Cartagena,” he finally gives him a location, something to fucking work with, as simply as if he were giving directions to el mercado. “Ahí se esconde. Sin embargo, consiguió protección, pero no es nada que los gringos no puedan manejar.” (That’s where he’s hiding. Got himself some protection, but it’s nothing the Americans can’t handle) That last bit said mockingly to purposely annoy the agent.

“¿Y los otros?” (And the others?) Javier presses, not letting him ride his nerves so easily.

“Santos y Rico,” Berna supplies, shrugging nonchalantly. “Siguen en Bogotá. Frecuentan un club allí sobre los barrios. El Flamenco. Bebidas baratas, música de mierda... tu tipo de lugar, ¿eh?” (They’re still in Bogotá. They frequent a club near the barrios. The Flamingo. Cheap booze, shitty music—your kind of place)

He doesn’t rise to the bait again, simply nodding as he stands, swiping the photo of Mateo off the table and back into his pocket, switching it out for his trusty pack of cigarettes.

“Ten cuidado, Peña,” (Careful, Peña) Berna calls after him, his tone still mocking. “No dejes que te vuelva estúpido.” (Don’t let her make you stupid)

Javier doesn’t look back as he walks out into the crisp night, his mind already focused on the next steps. 

The capital for Santos and Rico. Cartagena for Mateo. But first, back to you.

He isn’t sure how he’d explain this to you… or if he even would. All he knows is that he has to see your face, remind himself why he’s doing this, using you as an excuse to help justify the violence that has tainted his soul.

Javier is gone. A lot. You try not to let it get to you, especially after he promised to not leave your side ever again. Though, you should have known better than to take that literally.

The rhythm of his comings and goings is erratic, like a broken metronome that keeps you off balance.

At first, it was just a couple of days here and there—late nights bleeding into early mornings, his tired eyes explaining everything and nothing all at once. Then the days stretched into weeks, his absence carving a yawning void in the already fragile sanctuary of his apartment.

Your ribs mend. The bruises fade, the cuts scab over, but none of it feels like progress. Healing should feel like a triumph, not this hollow ache of emptiness of what you’re left with.

You are in Javier’s apartment like a ghost confined in purgatory, aimless and haunted.

You’re supposed to be dead right now.

The thought comes at odd moments—while folding the laundry, when washing the coffee mug he used one morning before he was urgently called back to work, standing at the edge of his bed staring at the empty space where his body should be.

You can’t stop it. It circles you like a vulture, picking at what little resolve you have left.

Connie’s gone too. She had been your lifeline for a while, popping in and offering comfort when her own world was crumbling. But her absence was inevitable, torn between spontaneous parenthood and a marriage fraying at every seam because of the job.

Now it’s just you. Alone with your thoughts, the muffled chaos of the world outside seeping through the walls. It’s a torment you never imagined possible, let alone one you’d find yourself living through.

The country seems to be devouring itself. The news on the small TV mutters of violence that is neverending.

Sometimes, you’ll stand by the sliding glass door that leads to his balcony, fingers brushing the edge of the curtain. You tell yourself you’re just looking, but the nagging fear of being watched creeps up your spine.

The blinds never stay open for long, your courage retreating as quickly as it came. Javier has trusted agents dropping groceries and meals off for you at the doorstep, and even then you’re very cautious about opening the door to bring them inside. 

Loneliness, paranoia and insomnia have become your closest companions. The reflection in the mirror becomes a stranger with a melancholic expression and sleepless eyes.

You collapse onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this is who you are now: a woman afraid to live.

The rare moments Javi manages to call leave you clinging to the landline, his rough voice over the static of the phone your only escape.

His words are rushed, heavy with exhaustion and tension. Sometimes it’s just an update—he’s okay, thinking of you. Other times, it’s the smallest sliver of intimacy:

“I miss you. I’ll be back soon.”

It’s selfish, you know, to want him here when you know the stakes of what he does for a living. The weight of what he deals with is an unwanted companion in his life.

But that doesn’t stop the longing, the ache to have him wrap his arms around you and make the world feel safe again.

The memory of his love confession that night in the bathroom is all that keeps you going. You cradle it like a fragile ember, feeding it with every shred of optimism you can muster. Which isn’t a lot as of late.

One day, you tell yourself. One day this will all be behind you. The darkness will lift, the scars on your heart will heal.

Until then, you have to endure. Love is a painful and ugly thing.

He gets all three of them in the end. It’s not clean, not quiet, but it’s done.

Berna’s information leads Javier straight to the first two—a pair of low-rent sicarios who’d been dumb enough to let their guard down in a hole-in-the-wall bar back in Bogotá.

The two were slouched over the counter, their laughter slurred and careless, oblivious to the shit storm about to hit.

He didn’t even have to lift a finger. The group moved swiftly, their boots loud against the grimy floor, and in seconds, the sicarios were on the ground, bloodied and begging.

Javier didn’t stay to watch them get dragged out into the alley, their pleas echoing in the narrow space before two distinct gunshots were heard.

He was already planning his next move: Cartagena. Mateo.

No time is wasted when he touches down in the coastal city, greeted by Berna and some of his men. 

Flanked by the grim crew, they make their way to the luxurious safe house perched in one of Cartagena’s wealthiest enclaves.

Criminals like Mateo always hide out in opulence after orchestrating such violence.

The assault begins the moment they breach the front gate. Chaos erupts. Gunfire cracks like thunder, tearing through the pristine silence of the night. 

Bullets shatter glass, ricocheting off marble columns and embedding themselves in the cream-colored walls. Screams echo as Mateo’s protective detail fights back hard, but they’re outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and out of luck. 

It’s ruthless yet efficient, and Javier moves through the pandemonium suavely, his focus singular, expression stern, as he searches for the asshole he is here for.

By the time he kicks in the door to Mateo’s hiding spot, the man is cornered. He’s standing by the balcony, sweat dripping down his face, his silk shirt clinging to his torso. A pistol is gripped tightly in his hand and pointed right at Javier.

“Suelta el arma,” (Drop the gun) Javier sneers, his lips curled, weapon steadily trained at the other’s chest. 

The temptation to end it all here—one clean shot—burns in his veins. He could do it, drive a bullet straight into the bastard’s heart and paint the wall behind him red.

But no. He won’t give him the ease of a quick death. Not after what he did to you.

Mateo scoffs as it dawns on him that he’s standing off against the DEA agent that’s been shadowing him since the moment he met you.

“Tú primero.” (You first)

“No estás en una posición para pedir ni mierda.” (You are not in a position to ask for shit)

Their eyes lock, and the room feels impossibly still despite the carnage wreaking outside.

Mateo’s hesitation is all the opening Javier needs. He lunges forward, disarming the man in one swift motion and landing a punch squarely across his face. The force sends Mateo sprawling, his pistol clattering uselessly to the floor.

It’s a struggle and Mateo fights back, dirty and desperate. They grapple, fists flying, grunts filling the air as they roll across the polished floor. Javier takes a few hits to his ribs and jaw, but his anger drives him forward. 

Every punch is laced with the memory of you—of what this fucker had done, of the fear in your eyes and the pain in your voice, how he broke you.

Finally, with a grunt of exertion, Javier manages to force Mateo onto his stomach, wrenching his arms behind his back. The cuffs click into place, metal biting into his skin.

“¿Crees que eres un héroe o qué?” (Do you think you’re some hero or what?) Mateo spits out, blood mixed in his saliva landing with a glop on the floor and Javier yanks him up. “¿Qué va a pensar tu preciado gobierno cuando les diga con quién lluegaste? Me estás arrestando sin ningún puto motivo factual.” (What is your precious government going to think when i tell them who you showed up here with. You’re arresting me with no real fucking cause)

Javier laughs, the sound bitter and hollow, devoid of humor. As he walks him towards the opulent front doors, he makes sure to twist Mateo’s wrists in the restraints until the jagged metal digs enough to make him bleed.

“¿Crees que esto es un arresto?” (You think this is an arrest) The rhetorical question is asked condescendingly, “No, Mateo, no voy a arrastrarte tras las rejas para que te pudras. Ese es un futuro demasiado misericordioso para malparidos como tú.” (I’m not going to drag you behind bars to rot. That’s too merciful of a future for bastards like you)

With a shove, he pushes Mateo forward. The armed men are waiting at the bottom of the marble steps, and they move quickly, forcing a black bag over his head. His muffled curses are cut short by a sharp blow to the gut.

They throw him into the waiting van like cargo, slamming the doors shut before the engine roars to life.

Javier exhales, his hands flexing at his sides as he watches the vehicle pull away into the darkness. He’s about to tail it, his mind already running through the long night ahead, but then his thoughts veer to you and the way you look at him like he’s more than the monster he feels he’s becoming.

Berna steps up beside him, his presence as calm and calculated as ever despite the massacre that has occurred. His hands are clasped neatly behind his back, but there’s a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or curiosity—dancing in his dark eyes.

“¿Y ahora qué?” (And now what?) he asks, his tone deceptively casual, like he doesn’t already know exactly what Javier’s next move is going to be.

Javi doesn’t even glance his way. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”

The basement reeks of damp concrete, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood. The single bulb overhead swings with a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm, casting broken shadows that dance across the cracked walls and the man tied to the chair.

Mateo’s head hangs low, chin resting against his chest, blood trailing from his broken nose, pooling on the stained floor beneath him. His chest rises and falls unevenly, each breath a wheeze as pain ripples through his bruised and battered figure.

Javier leans against the base of the stairs, his leather jacket discarded over a rusty chair nearby. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, revealing forearms taut with tension, veins bulging beneath his brown skin.

His knuckles are raw, split open from earlier blows, and they throb with a dull ache that he’s long since chosen to ignore. His dark eyes are devoid of their usual sly charm; instead, they smolder with a cold, relentless fury. 

Mateo coughs, spitting blood and phlegm onto the floor. “Todo esto... ¿por ella?” (All this… for her) His voice is weak, rasping, but the mockery in his tone is unmistakable. “I don’t believe it.”

Javier pushes off the wall, his boots echoing on the concrete as he takes measured steps toward the chair. He grabs a stool and pulls it up, straddling it directly in front of the other man. His face is inches away, close enough to make him flinch.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” Javier reaches out, gripping his jaw with one hand, forcing him to meet his gaze. Mateo winces as Javier’s thumb presses hard against a fresh bruise, the pain blooming anew. 

Still, he manages to huff out a wet and gurgling chuckle. “Realmente te tiene envuelto alrededor de su maldito dedo. Estás haciendo todo esto para qué, ¿vengarla? (She really had you wrapped tight around her fucking finger. You’re doing all this to what, avenge her?) Some gringa who barely gave it up. Podrías encontrar una puta mejor en la ciudad, eso sería más creíble que esto—” (You could find a better whore out in the city, that would be more believable than this)

The crack of Javier’s fist connecting with his cheekbone cuts him off mid-sentence. Mateo’s head snaps to the side, and more blood spatters the floor. Javier shakes out his hand, fidgeting his fingers.

“You tried to have her killed.” He spits, voice trembling with restrained rage. “And now you’re going to reap every second she’s had to live in fear because of you.”

Mateo lifts his head weakly, shooting daggers at the agent despite his beaten state. “And this rights the wrong? Makes you better than me? Us? Look at you. Torturing a man in the dark. Working with killers.” 

Javier steps closer, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him forward, their faces inches apart. “You’re goddamn right it doesn’t make me better,” he growls. “But I don’t give a fuck anymore. My moral compass? That broke the day I realized just how low you motherfuckers get. The day I realized the only way to protect people like her is to become just like you.”

He shoves him away with enough force to send the chair rocking precariously, the screech of its legs grating against the hard floor.

Javier’s hand closes around a nearby crowbar, it’s cold metal chilling against the heat radiating from his palm. He grips it tightly, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he stalks forward.

He presses the tip of the bar against Mateo’s knee, letting it rest there just long enough for the man’s wide eyes to meet his. The anticipation thickens the air like smoke, and then Javier swings.

The impact is sickening, the crack of bone like a firework detonating in the basement, followed by Mateo’s shrill and desperate scream.

It’s a sound that would make most men hesitate, flinch even, but Javier doesn’t stop.

He brings the crowbar down again and again, obliterating both knees and then moving downward, snapping tibias and fibulas like kindling. Mateo’s pleas are incoherent now, sobbing gasps and wet, broken cries of “Stop!” and “Please!” that Javier doesn’t hear—or perhaps chooses not to.

The cool iron gleams under the dim, swaying light. Blood trickles down it, some of it spatters across Javi’s shirt, his arms, but it doesn’t faze him.

It all becomes a distant hum, drowned out by the roaring in his ears. He doesn’t see the man in front of him anymore; he sees your pain, the fear etched into your face, the scars you’ll carry forever because of this piece of shit.

When Mateo’s legs are little more than pulp, Javier tosses the crowbar aside, the clang of metal on concrete echoing like a death knell.

He doesn’t stop, though. He doesn’t even hesitate. His fists take over, slamming into the other’s face brutally.

Mateo’s head lolls to the side, his breaths coming in ragged, wet gasps. Javier pulls back only when he’s sure the man is teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, his face swollen and unrecognizable.

Breathing heavily, Javi staggers back and pulls his pistol from its spot tucked at his lower back. The deafening click of the safety switching off snaps Mateo out of his stupor, his swollen eyes flying open in panic. 

He tries to speak, but his words dissolve into choked sobs. His ravaged legs twitch uselessly, bones jutting through torn skin, his face an unrecognizable mask of swelling and gore.

Javier steps closer, raising the gun. The barrel points squarely at Mateo’s chest, unwavering.

There isn’t anything left to say.

The first shot rings out, deafening in the enclosed space. Mateo jerks in the chair, blood spraying from the wound. Another shot follows, then another. Every pull of the trigger is cathartic, each bullet an exclamation point to the anger and anguish he’s carried for too long. 

It feels like ripping a piece of his soul away, but he doesn’t stop. Not until the clip is empty and Mateo’s body slumps forward, lifeless.

Silence falls, heavy and oppressive. Javier’s chest heaves as he lowers the weapon, tasting the burnt sulfurous in the air, his fingers trembling slightly. Blood pools around the chair, a deep crimson stark against the dull gray of the concrete.

He stares at the heap for a moment, his body and soul untethered. There’s no satisfaction in his expression, only exhaustion and a shadow of something darker—loathing, maybe.

He tucks the gun at his lower back again and turns away, his boots crunching over spent shell casings as he heads for the stairs, grabbing his jacket on the way out.

He doesn’t look back as he ascends out of the basement, men trailing in to clean the mess up. Javier doesn’t let himself linger on what he’s done. 

You’ve been pacing the apartment for hours, too restless to sit still, too wired to even think about sleeping.

“I’m coming back tonight.”

He sounded different when he called. Blank, almost, but you told yourself not to get hung up on it. You haven’t been feeling like yourself lately, either. 

The only thing that mattered was that he was coming back to you.

By the time the doorknob rattles at one in the morning, you’re wide awake, perched on the edge of the couch with your legs tucked beneath you. Your heart leaps into your throat as the door creaks open, and there he is.

Javier’s silhouette fills the frame, outlined by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. His broad shoulders are hunched, the leather duffle dangling limply in one hand. His jean jacket hangs off him like it’s too heavy, his hair mussed, his face unshaven.

The grim line of his mouth and the absent look in his eyes tug at the emotions you harbor for him.

You don’t even realize you’ve moved until your feet are carrying you to him, the silver of the moonlight pours in from the glass doors that lead to the balcony, illuminating the room. “Javi…” you whisper, the name leaving your lips before you can think. 

You throw yourself into his arms without hesitation, wrapping yourself around him like if you hold him tight enough, it will make all this despair go away.

His duffle hits the floor with a dull thud as his arms come around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

He doesn’t deserve this, he thinks, as you cling to him. Your affection, your tenderness. Still, that doesn’t stop him from being selfish and bathing in the warmth of your body pressed against his.

His embrace is crushing, pulling you so close you can barely breathe, but you don’t care. If he could press you into his skin, you’d let him. If you could crawl inside his chest and be near his heart, you would.

“I missed you,” you murmur against him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his jacket. His grip tightens in response, but he doesn’t say a word. His silence makes your throat tighten.

You pull back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. His skin is rough beneath your fingers, the scruff on his jaw rasping against your palms. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see it all—the weariness, the anger, the shame, the pieces that make him who he is. 

He opens his mouth to respond, but whatever he’s about to say dies on his tongue when you lean in and kiss him.

It’s not gentle. It’s desperate, like you’re trying to pour every word you haven’t said into the press of your lips on his.

They’re softer than you’d imagined in your countless daydreams, but the way he moves them against yours carries an unmistakable authority. Even as you take the lead, it feels like he’s in control.

Javi’s hands rise, cradling the back of your head as he holds you steady. His mouth moves like he’s been waiting for this, needing this, as much as you have.

You are his sanctuary and his torment, the single thread keeping him whole in a world that threatens to disentangle him. 

It’s vaster than love, more potent than lust. It’s the way his heart pinches every time you look at him, as if no matter how far he falls into the darkness, you’ll always be there to pull him back.

Your fingers curl into the denim of his jacket, tugging him closer while you take small, shuffling steps backward. He tastes so forbidden and intoxicating. You’ll never get enough.

As you guide him further into the apartment, he follows without question, mouth never leaving yours, until you stumble slightly over the sunken step into the living room.

His hands move to your waist to steady you, the brief break in the kiss filled with a shaky exhale against your lips, your name leaving him so softly, you almost miss it.

“What are we doing?” His question is rough around the edges, like gravel under silk. He swallows hard, the muscles in his neck moving. His touch remains on your hips, as if he’s caught between holding you close and pushing you away.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you surge forward, capturing his lips again as your hands fumble with his jacket. He hesitates, just for a split second, before shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor.

You’re already tugging at the hem of his shirt as you guide him toward the couch with a determined push, his legs folding beneath him as he sits.

You climb onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips.

“Wait,” he says your name, this time a little more sternly. “We can’t—” His fingers flex against your curves, tone strained with the conflict that’s written all over his face.

“Javier, please.” Your plea wavers with emotion, your hands balling into the fabric of his shirt. “I just… I need to feel something else. Make me feel something else.”

His brown eyes meet yours, and the anguish he finds there strikes deep within him. It’s a look he knows all too well, one he’s carried in his own reflection more times than he can count.

It hurts him to see it mirrored back at him, to know that you’ve reached the same depths he’s had to endure.

He should say no. He should tell you that fucking him won’t fix anything, that it won’t make the hurt disappear. If anything, it might make it worse.

But as he takes in the sight of you—your pleading eyes, your trembling hands, the way your lips are still swollen from his kisses—he knows he can’t resist. Not when he’s wanted this, wanted you, for so long.

“Are you sure?” Your noses brush and the heat between you is almost unbearable.

“Please fuck me, Javi,” you whisper, the raw need in your voice obliterating the last shred of his trepidation.

His lips find yours with renewed fervor, hands roaming your body with reckless abandon, no longer hesitant.

Your own are just as eager, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you rock your hips against his bulge. His sharp inhale tells you he feels it too—the spark, the friction. 

Clothes begin to fall away piece by piece, the space narrowing until there’s nothing but the press of your bodies and the sound of ragged breaths as you expose more to the other’s hungry gaze.

The moonlight filtering through the blinds casts Javier in a way that makes him look otherworldly. You’ve seen him shirtless more times than you can count, but tonight, under the spell of the lust simmering between you, his body appears almost unreal—every ridge of muscle, every faint scar, illuminated and tempting.

Your touch moves at its own accord, spreading over his firm chest, tracing the curve of his pectorals, feeling the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat. You move to cradle his face once more, his skin warm and taut under your palms as you guide him down to your neck.

Javier presses his lips to the delicate skin just below your ear, the scrape of his facial hair making you keen. His teeth nip at your pulse point, eliciting a gasp from you, and his tongue follows to soothe the sting.

His kisses blaze a trail lower, past the hollow of your throat and down to the swells of your tits, where he pauses, his breath fanning over your charged skin.

Your breath catches softly as his tongue flicks across the sensitive flesh, and then one of his hands slides up from your waist to cup the other. His thumb brushes over your nipple, teasing it until it peaks under his touch, and then his mouth is on you again—hot, wet, and maddeningly skillful.

He sucks the tender nub gently and you arch into him, whimpering from how good it feels.

“Javi…” you moan, your fingers burying themselves in his hair. His tongue circles your pebbled nipple, flicking it with just the right amount of pressure before he grazes it with his teeth, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core, slickening your cunt with each lick.

He doesn’t neglect the other for long, moving over to give it the same attention, making you feel like you’re coming undone one nerve at a time.

His mouth feels delicious against your skin, and your skin tastes delicious on his tongue.

Even as his desire threatens to consume him, he’s cautious. He notices how you flinch slightly when his fingers press a bit too firmly into your soft skin and guilt prickles at the edges of his hunger; but it only makes him gentler, more intent on making you feel good without causing any more pain.

Javier kisses his way back up until his lips are at the corner of your mouth. Then, with a fluid motion, he shifts your position, guiding you onto your back. The worn cushions cradle you as he hovers over you, his broad frame shielding you from the world, one hand planted firmly beside your head as he kneels between your parted thighs. 

The sight of him above you, his polished amber eyes smoldering with want, makes your stomach flip.

Your hips tilt instinctively, seeking more, and the throbbing at your pussy grows insistent. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, the denim of his jeans rubbing tantalizingly against your inner thighs.

He doesn’t speak, but the tension in his jaw, the way his breath is ragged as his fingers find the waistband of your sleeping shorts, says everything.

You lift your hips to help him ease them off, the cool air brushing against your damp skin making you shiver. He undresses fully, and you watch in anticipation as he rids himself of his jeans.

The room is almost fully dark, shadows swallowing the details, but you feel the heat of his cock as it presses against your slick folds.

Your head falls back against the couch, a shaky moan escaping your lips. “Oh…” you whimper, thighs trembling as the blunt head of his length glides along your throbbing seam, gathering your arousal. 

The rough pads of his fingers slither down, brushing through the untamed curls at the apex of your thighs. Your upkeep has been the last thing on your mind, given the chaos of your life lately, but Javier doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t falter. If anything, the unfiltered, raw intimacy of it seems to spur him on.

He strokes your pussy gently, his touch reverent, as if every part of you is something to be savored.

The pearl of precum that leaks from the slit on his cock smears against your thigh as he brings his hand up, licking the tips of his fingers, tasting you. 

Your heady taste is an aphrodisiac that almost has him pouncing on you like a rabid dog.

There’s a glistening sheen of his spit on the pads of his digits as his hand descends again, sliding between your folds.

His touch is confident, and when he circles your clit with the calloused texture of his fingertips, the sensation hits you like a jolt of electricity, bending your back off the couch as his name tumbles from your lips.

“You ready?”

You nod eagerly, your hands reaching for him, pulling him closer. “I need you.”

He tries not to let those three simple words affect them as much as he knows they can. Instead, he adjusts, making sure you’re both comfortable, bringing you up onto his lap, steadying you by cradling your lower back in his large hand as you loop your arms around his shoulders.

Your thighs tighten at his waist as he aligns his dick at the mouth of your pussy, slowly sinking in, which has you shivering and him hissing out. 

You cling to his wide frame as he fills you completely. The world narrows down to nothing but the feel of his cock.

Having you in his arms feels like a paradox—so right and yet so wrong. It’s a storm of conflicting emotions that Javier barely has the bandwidth to process, but all those doubts dissolve with every inch of his length that slides into your wet, tight heat.

The feel of you gripping him so snugly makes his head tilt back slightly, lips parting with a soft groan.

The stretch is both foreign and delicious as your body adjusts to the thickness and size of him.

Your nails bite into the taut muscles of his shoulders, your breath catching in your throat before spilling out in a desperate, trembling moan as he buries himself into your body.

The subtle burn gives way to an irrepressible wave of pleasure when he begins to move, slow at first, testing your limits, before he finds a rhythm that has your head spinning.

“Javi,” you gasp, his name falling from your lips repeatedly as you hold onto him.

Your hips begin to move with his, grinding down in a desperate attempt to take him deeper, to feel every inch of him claiming you.

He groans as he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours. The hand at your lower back moves up to sprawl at the middle, keeping you steady, as the other cups your ass and guides your movements to match his thrusts.

His head nudges yours, his silent request clear, and you pull back just enough for your mouths to collide in a messy, hungry embrace. His tongue slips past your lips, tangling with yours, the kiss as consuming as the rest of him.

Every powerful stroke of his hips wipes away the hollow ache that had rooted itself in your chest. In its place is a blissful sensation that threatens to engulf you.

You can feel the intensity of his passion in every thrust, every growled exhalation of your name, every flick of his tongue against yours.

Javier has a way of making the world disappear, of pulling you so completely into him that there’s no room for pain, for doubt, for anything but how good he’s fucking you. 

In his arms, with his body wrapped around yours and his cock filling you to the brim, you feel more than safe. You feel wanted. Protected. Cherished. Taken care of.

“Did you really mean it?” you whimper as your hips grind steadily against him, taking him entirely with every downward roll of your body.

Your fingers tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly. The wet, obscene sound of your arousal meeting his cock fills the air, a symphony of lust underscoring your whispered question. “Do you actually love me?”

Javier groans, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as your walls flutter and squeeze around him. 

He doesn’t answer immediately, too lost in the sight of you—your furrowed brows, the sweat glistening on your skin, the way your lips part on every gasp and moan.

And you, despite being desperate for his assurance, can’t bring yourself to stop riding his dick.

I’ve killed for you, he thinks, but doesn’t dare say aloud. Instead, his rough voice finally breaks. “I do,” he rasps, his hands gripping your ass possessively, continuing to guide your pace as his strokes grow frantic. “So fuckin’ much. You’d never—shit— you’d never understand.” His mouth latches onto your collarbone, licking and biting with a feral need as if he could brand his love into your skin.

“Make me understand,” you demand in a breathy moan. Your pussy quivers as he adjusts his angle, his cock dragging against a spot inside you that evokes something new. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your head falling back, exposing the arch of your neck to his ravenous kisses.

The ecstasy isn’t just centered at your pussy anymore—it conquers your entire body, an all-encompassing euphoria.

Javier doesn’t waste time with more words. Where they fail him, his actions overcompensate.

In a blink, he shifts, pinning you beneath him on the couch. His hands slide under your thighs, hitching them high around his hips as he starts to thrust with unrelenting rhythm. The head of his cock feels like it’s brushing against your heart, making you cry out incoherently.

Each roll of his hips is a declaration, a confession. This is how much I love you. This is how much I need you.

“Oh my god,” you mewl when it starts feeling like too much. Your hands scramble for purchase, one landing on his cheek while the other claws at his back. Your eyes roll back, and sounds you didn’t even know you could make spill from your lips.

Javier’s face is tight with concentration, his brow pinched together, beads of sweat rolling down his temple. He leans in closer, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that’s as nasty and desperate as his love making.

You can taste the impending bliss on your tongue as your orgasm begins to crash over you. “I love you, Javier,” you moan, high pitched and sweetly.

Your declaration is his undoing. With a loud grunt, Javier pulls out swiftly, his fist wrapping around his cock as he pumps himself. His release comes in hot, thick spurts, painting your stomach as he shudders above you, hips jerking reflexively.

“God damn,” he mutters hoarsely as he collapses forward. His forehead rests against your chest, peppering kisses all over, as the two of you come down together, tangled and spent.

When he regains his composure, he moves off the couch, tugging his jeans on in a practiced, effortless motion before disappearing into the bathroom. You remain sprawled against the cushions, your body still humming from the pleasure he gave you.

A haze of contentment blankets you, leaving you feeling like a new woman. For the first time in weeks, the suffocating mass on your chest feels lighter—his touch, his presence, the way he fucked you—it all feels like a salve on your wounded spirit.

He returns swiftly, a damp, clean rag in hand. His movements are gentle as he crouches beside you, wiping away the sticky remnants of his release from your stomach.

The care in his actions is almost as endearing as the passion you just shared, and you find yourself watching him, entranced. The lines of exhaustion etched into his face don’t take away from how devastatingly handsome he looks in this moment.

It’s only when his hand brushes yours as he adjusts the rag that you notice the state of it—knuckles battered and scabbed over. You’d been too lost in the zeal of your coupling to notice, but now it has a pang of worry cutting through your post-coital haze.

“Javi, your hands—” you start, softly yet concerned. As you slowly sit up, a subtle twinge in your back reminds you just how thoroughly he’d fucked you into the couch. You grimace but press on, your brows knitting together as you reach for him.

Out of habit, he flexes his fingers, his lips tugging into something meant to be reassuring but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he answers with a nonchalance that brushes off the concern in your voice.

Rising from his crouched position, he tosses the rag aside, going through the motions of lighting a cigarette. He sits beside you, pulling you close and wrapping the familiar, colorful quilt around both your bodies, blowing the smoke away from your face.

You don’t give up so easily. Curling into his lap, you nuzzle your nose against the crook of his neck, planting a featherlight kiss against the birthmark there. He smells like sex, tinged with the fading scent of his cologne.

Wordlessly, you reach for the arm around your shoulder, cradling his hand gently. You bring it to your lips, brushing them against his injured knuckles. Your eyes stay locked on his, the act full of care, as if you’re trying to kiss away the pain written in every crack and abrasion.

“It’s over,” He announces steadily, his words sinking like a stone dropped into water.

You blink at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He pauses, taking another drag then licking his lips with a flick of his tongue. His gaze is fixed on where your fingers are still curled around his hand. “Mateo.” The name makes your body tense instinctively at the mention of it, and he brushes his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing gesture. “The intention was to bring him in alive, but… he got caught in the crossfire.”

It’s a lie built on necessity and self-preservation, but a lie nonetheless. His dark eyes search your face, gauging your reaction. 

Your lips part slightly as you process what he’s just said: Mateo. Dead.

You can finally be in control of your own life again… good riddance, right? You should feel relief, maybe even vindication.

And yet, the feeling is muted, tangled up in something you can’t quite place. 

Is it the lingering haze of sleeping with Javier clouding your judgement? Or is it the unsettling knowledge that this death, even while deserved, will find a way to sneak back into your mind when you least expect it? Will it resurface in the future, leaving you grappling with emotions you don’t want to feel for a man who tried to have you killed?

You look up at Javi. His eyes are a deep, earthy brown of aged mahogany—steadfast, enduring, yet weathered by time and trials. You search them, hoping the steady intensity might offer you some clarity.

Instead, all you find is an intangible burden. What would it take, you wonder, to dim that tragic glint that eclipses his beautiful eyes?

Still, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Good.” You tighten your grip on his hand, your smaller fingers pressing against his rougher, calloused ones. “Thank you.”

Javier’s molars grind together at your quiet gratitude. It’s like chewing glass, and he has to toke on the cigarette to ease the feeling. 

Would you still feel this way if you knew the truth? If you knew that Mateo’s death wasn’t just a convenient win, but a calculated decision with the help of bad men just like him.

Would you still be thankful then?

Your fingers slip from his hand to his cheek, tilting his face toward you. The softness in your touch undoes the tension at his jaw. “You don’t have to carry this alone,” you say quietly, like you’ve somehow caught onto the turmoil simmering beneath his stoic exterior. “Not with me.”

He closes his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch despite himself. You have no idea just how much shit he’s already hauling, how much he’ll never let you see. “You’re safe now,” is all he can bring himself to say, and it feels like both assurance and a deflection. “That’s all that matters.”

Javier stands in the lone office, his mind weighed with the heaviness of recent conversations. Stechner’s words reverberate like a stinging slap.

“For everything you know, you’re extremely naïve.”

The condescension was thornier than he wanted to admit, piercing through his frustration more sharply than the looming fallout.

He’s been fired. Reassigned. Whatever bureaucratic label they slapped on it.

The scandal of his ties with the vigilante squad has finally blown up in his face. By morning, he’ll be on a flight back to Laredo with nothing but his duffel bag and a bruised sense of self.

He should have seen it coming. Hell, he did see it coming, but he still walked straight into it, didn’t he?

This is what happens when you gamble with drug traffickers and criminals, people whose loyalties shift like sand.

Trusting them had been an obvious mistake. But trusting the U.S. government to have his back? That was downright foolish. Those assholes were playing their own games under the guise of diplomacy.

Stechner was right—he is naïve, thinking he could wrest something just out of this mess on his own terms. Justice could never be carved out of deceit and bloodshed.

There’s no victory to claim. Just dirtied hands and sleepless nights.

Well… it wasn’t all for nothing. There’s you. The one silver fucking lining in this entire shitshow.

But even that was about to collapse under the weight of his failures. He’d have to tell you. But how the hell could he look into your eyes and explain everything he’d done? The compromises, the lies, the violence he had incurred. 

That he’s leaving?

Javier drags a hand down his face, the lines on his brow deepening with each thought.

Disgust. That’s what he expects to see when he tells you. Maybe judgment, too. 

He knows himself too well. The moment he looks into your eyes, he’ll falter, take the coward’s way out and give you only half-truths wrapped in feeble excuses.

The clock ticks on the wall behind him, each second louder than the last, a metronome counting down to his own undoing. If he doesn’t get out of here soon, he’ll drown in his own misery and ruin the night before it even begins.

You have been looking forward to the New Year’s Eve party. The embassy’s farewell to another tumultuous year, held at some ritzy bar downtown.

Javier would have skipped it without a second thought if it were up to him. But you’d been excited, your eyes lighting up at the prospect of something normal, craving it, so he agreed to be your date.

The timing couldn’t be worse. The night should be about new beginnings, but all Javier can feel is the heaviness of his impending departure. And he has no idea when—or how—he’s going to find the words to say goodbye.

His body moves on autopilot until he’s standing outside your door, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side before rapping his knuckles against the wood.

The door swings open, and there you are—radiant, with that smile that could light up even the darkest corners of his life. It’s so warm, so genuine, it hurts more than it soothes him.

“Hey,” you greet cheerfully, stepping aside to let him in. “That was a lot quicker than I expected. Is everything okay?”

For a moment Javi hesitates, an explanation stuck in his throat. He crosses the threshold, shutting the door behind him.

His eyes sweep over you almost involuntarily as you turn and head back toward the bathroom. The skirt of your dress sways with each step, modest in length but criminal in how it hugs your figure. His gaze locks onto the swing of your hips, hungry and selfish, his feet moving as if tethered to yours.

“Everything’s fine.” The words come out clipped, his tone consciously flat. He doesn’t want to invite more questions, doesn’t want you to see through the cracks forming in his wavering facade.

You don’t press him, too preoccupied with the mirror, inspecting your makeup. You swipe another dab of blush across your cheeks, leaning in closer to scrutinize your reflection. “Too much?”

He stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly filling the frame as he leans against it, watching you with an enamored look he doesn’t bother hiding. “Looks perfectly fine to me,” he replies gruffly, though he means it.

Things between you two have settled into uncharted waters. That night on his couch had been electric, a collision of want and need that left you both reeling. But since then, you’ve held back, keeping the boundaries undefined.

It’s not that you don’t want him—every time he’s near, your body remembers the way he felt inside you, the way he made you feel whole again.

However, there’s something he’s holding back, and you can feel it in the way his gaze lingers on you for too long. You've decided not to push, not while you’re still piecing yourself back together, taking cautious steps on your own journey of healing. 

Still, the love between you is undeniable. You feel it in the way he holds you at night, his arms firm yet tender as you drift off to sleep. It’s there in the softer timbre he uses when you talk over the phone while he’s stationed in Medellín. 

Even though you’re been back in your apartment now, every night he’s in the capital, he’s either at your place or you’re at his.

You’ve returned to work, and while it’s helped you settle back into a sense of normalcy, it doesn’t feel the same. 

The small routines you’ve fallen into do bring you comfort, despite the bigger questions that loom in the background. 

You find yourself wondering if it’s time to leave the clerical work behind and seek something greater, something that aligns with the new version of yourself you’re trying to uncover.

Then there’s the question of where you’ll go from here—literally. Colombia has become more than a temporary home, and you’ve realized there’s little waiting for you where you’re from. Truthfully, you could go anywhere. But do you want to?

The answer is clear: the only person you want to be with is standing in your hallway.

“Thanks for coming out with me to this. I know it’s not exactly your kind of night.” You glance at him over your shoulder, adjusting the last details of your appearance in the mirror. “Want a drink?”

“It’s not,” he concurs, his voice carrying a teasing lilt, “but there’s no way I’m letting you go out there alone looking this beautiful.” His gaze sweeps over you once more as he follows you back out into the living room, his flattery leaving no room for misunderstanding.

The compliment lands as intended and you feel the apples of your cheeks tingling warmly. “You’re sweet,” you murmur as you pour both of your drinks at the bar cart. 

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the crackle of the record player in the corner, spinning a soft tune you both half recognize. For a moment, it feels easy. Natural.

When you turn back to him, you hold out his glass with a small, shy smile.

Should he tell you now? Get it over with and rip it off like a bandaid. But as you take a step closer, your voice breaches his spiraling thoughts.

“¿Estás seguro que todo está bien?” (Are you sure everything is alright?) You ask, your brows knitting with quiet concern.

His grip around the glass tightens slightly. He swallows the bitterness lodged in his throat, the words forming in his mind before dissolving into silence. Instead, he forces a half-smile, his tone turning light, almost flippant.

“De mí no te preocupes cariño,” (Don’t worry about me) he tells you softly. “Debemos celebrar el Año Nuevo sin ninguna mamada.” (We should celebrate the New Year without any bullshit)

You search his face, sensing the weight he’s trying to hide, but when his hand lifts to brush against your cheek, your resolve falters. The back of his knuckles are rough, calloused, but his touch is achingly gentle. You lean into him instinctively, your eyelashes fluttering as a sense of calm washes over you.

He’s right. Whatever weight he’s carrying, whatever darkness lingers behind his eyes, it can wait until tomorrow. Tonight is about enjoying the fleeting moments of joy.

“Okay.” When your eyes meet him again, there’s gentleness there, a silent agreement to leave the worries behind.

Javier tips his glass toward yours in a silent toast, a half smile pulling at his pouty lips. “Salud.”

“Salud,” you echo, clinking your glass against his.

From his spot at the bar, Javier’s eyes stay glued to you, the knot in his chest tightening with each laugh that escapes your glossed lips. You’re standing with a group of your coworkers, your head tilted back as you throw yourself into some joke he couldn’t hear.

The sound of a countdown filters through the bar, and the announcer’s voice booms that there are five minutes left until the new year.

As if on cue, you start making your way back to him, your expression alight with excitement.

“They’re setting off fireworks on the roof! We should get up there before it gets too crowded,” you suggest, the words spilling out with the eagerness of someone who’s had just enough to drink.

Javier nods, his lips twitching into a faint smile in one of those rare moments where his amusement is genuine and unguarded. He finishes the last sip of his drink, sliding off the barstool suavely. 

Before you can take more than a step, his arm loops around your waist, pulling you closer.

The haze of the drinks and his steady warmth make you feel like you’re walking on air as he guides you to the stairs leading to the rooftop.

When you step outside, the cool night air nips at your bare shoulders, making you shiver. You turn on your heel, already halfway to suggesting going back for your coat when Javier beats you to it.

“Just take mine,” he says, shrugging out of his leather jacket gallantly. He drapes it over your shoulders, the weight of it heavy but comforting, the potent scent of him wrapping around you like a second skin, making you giddy.

The sleeves fall far past your hands and you let out a contented laugh. “Gracias, Javi,” you angle yourself to press a kiss to his cheek.

With his hand in yours, you tug him toward the edge of the rooftop, where the city sprawls out below in a sea of twinkling lights.

“You know, despite all the violence and corruption, this country really is so beautiful.”

Javier doesn’t respond right away. His gaze shifts from the city to you, longingly. “Yeah,” he agrees in a raspy timbre, “it is.”

But his words aren’t meant for the city. They’re meant for you.

An eager, ill-timed firework crackles in the distance, a single streak of light exploding into a shower of gold and white over the skyline. 

“Look at that,” you whisper, the sound barely audible over the growing cheers and whistles of the crowd.

Javier doesn’t look at the fireworks. He can’t. His gaze is glued to you, the way the vibrant colors illuminate your features, casting you in a kaleidoscope of light. 

He’s memorizing everything about this moment: the tilt of your lips as you smile, the slight raise in your brow as you lose yourself in the spectacle, his jacket draped over your shoulders.

The countdown begins, voices around you picking up in excitement.

Ten… nine…

You glance up at him, your face glowing with the anticipation of a fresh start with the only person you want by your side. “Javi,” the way his name rolls off your tongue jabs at his crumbling walls.

Eight… seven…

He manages a fleeting smile, the corners of his mouth tugging upward despite the leaden weight of his turmoil on his back.

Six… five…

Your free hand comes up to rest lightly on his chest, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his shirt. “Thank you for being here.”

Four… three…

“Always,” he replies, even though it’s a lie.

Two… one…

You both lean in at the same time, as if pulled by some invisible thread. Your lips meet his in a kiss that feels as inevitable as the sunrise. It’s soft at first, tender and unhurried, but it shifts quickly, urgency fueling it.

The rooftop erupts in cheers as the first moments of the new year are ushered in with a thunderous cascade of fireworks. The sky is alive with bursts of red, white, gold.

For you, it feels like the perfect moment, the start of something good. You can’t imagine wanting anything else but this—him, here, now.

For Javier, it feels like a bittersweet end. Laced with his unspoken heartbreak, a desperate attempt to memorize the taste of your lips, the way your body fits so perfectly against his, before everything comes crashing down.

When you finally pull back, your cheeks are hot, your smile radiant as you look up at him. “Feliz Año Nuevo.”

He forces a smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Happy New Year, cariño.”

You surge forward again, the pull of him irresistible. Your hands cradle his jaw as your tongue teases against his bottom lip, a silent plea he answers without hesitation. His mouth parts, letting you in—hot and enthralling, making your toes curl in your heels.

His fingers slide lower, grabbing a possessive handful of your ass. A soft moan escapes you, muffled against his mouth, and your thighs instinctively press together, trying to quell the thrum of arousal beginning to pulse at your cunt.

“Take me home,” you whisper desperately as you break away, all shaky and breathless. Your eyes meet his dark and hooded ones, mirroring your own need.

For a second, Javier doesn’t move, caught in the crossfire of his own thoughts. But as he looks at you, sees the way, your pupils are blown wide with desire—any lingering hesitation crumbles.

“Let’s go.”

He leads you through the crowd, his broad shoulders parting the sea of people like he was made to shield you from the chaos.

Your pulse races, anticipation coiling tightly in your stomach as the fireworks continue to explode above, unnoticed by either of you.

You love how his weight settles over you, his hands traveling in hunger across every inch of your skin. The way you grind against him feels like second nature, your body responding to his every move with an unrelenting need. 

You hadn’t expected him to take his time like this, stretching out every moment of foreplay as if he’s trying to make it last forever.

It’s the third time tonight he’s taken you apart with his mouth, but this time, his fingers are joining in, plunging into your soaked heat while his tongue flicks over your clit in a rhythm that makes you see fireworks erupting against your vision.

Your legs tremble uncontrollably, your body twisting against the damp sheets as you struggle to stay present.

Javier’s tongue drags slow circles over your swollen nub before he sucks it into his mouth, the gentle pull sending sharp jolts down your spine. 

His fingers curl inside you, brushing against that devastating spot that has your back arching clean off the mattress.

“Javi!” you cry out, hips stuttering against his face as the wave of your climax crashes over you. His hooked nose presses against you as you fall apart.

He doesn’t stop. He’s utterly lost in you—your sweet headiness, the way your walls squeeze around his fingers. You have to yank hard on his hair to finally pull him away, your breath coming in shallow gasps as he looks up at you, mouth glistening with your release.

He licks his lips slowly, savoring every last bit. There’s a desperate intensity in his eyes, like his palate is memorizing the taste of you.

Javier kisses his way up your body, stopping to worship your breasts, his tongue and teeth teasing each peak until you’re squirming, your pussy continuously drooling for him.

When his lips finally crash against yours, it’s messy as he lets you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands roam over his broad back, tracing the curve of muscle and sinew, appreciating the feel of his skin against yours. You sigh softly, content to be pinned beneath him.

“Turn over. On your stomach.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the order, and though your body feels overwhelmed from his attention, you obey without hesitation. Your desire for him outweighs everything else.

Javier shifts back, giving you room to move. You reposition yourself, chest and stomach pressed flat against the mattress while your hips lift, aided by the pillow he slides beneath you.

The cool air kisses your exposed skin, and you hear him groan behind you—a deep sound that has your pussy clenching in anticipation.

“Tan hermosa,” he whispers hoarsely, his rough hands caressing your ass before delivering a playful smack that makes you gasp. The flesh jiggles under his touch, and he leans down to place a tender kiss on your shoulder, biting softly as he aligns himself behind you.

You feel the head of his cock drag through your folds, gathering the slick mess he’s drawn from you before pressing against your wet entrance. He pushes in slowly, the stretch making your mouth fall open in a silent cry.

“Javier,” you whimper, your fingers clutching the sheets as he fills you inch by inch.

The angle is devastating, reaching places you didn’t even know existed, and all you can do is hold on tight.

His strong thighs cage yours, while his broad frame looms over you, his toned arms braced on either side of your head. Each measured thrust sends his heavy balls slapping against your puffy, soaked clit.

“Puta madre, you’re so fuckin’ tight like this.” He lowers more of his weight onto you, pressing you further into the mattress, his thrusts growing more delirious.

The force of his movements pulls unrestrained moans from your lips, each one echoing with pure, unfiltered satisfaction.

Your trembling hands fumble over the sheets until they find his calloused palms pressing firmly into the sheets. 

Without hesitation, you intertwine your fingers with his, your softer touch setting off something feral inside him. He starts to pound into you, his hips snapping hard and fast as though the world outside this room doesn’t exist.

Your pussy clamps around on him in response, helplessly succumbing to his pace. Your hips instinctively try to push back against him but his weight over you, so dominant, keeps you in place, forcing you to take the entirety of his cock.

“I-I—” The words tumble out, but they’re incoherent, your mind too clouded with the way he breaks you open, your sex swallowing him in even deeper.

“Another one already? I should’ve taken care of you and this perfect pussy a long,” he thrusts hard, “time,” another sharp snap of his hips, “ago.”

“Ah!” you shriek, your nails digging into his hands where your fingers remain entwined, your vision crossing as he hits that spot inside you that flares your orgasm. “Just like that. Don’t stop, Javi.”

He doesn’t falter nor considers easing up, inducing another wave of stickiness from your cunt.

The obscene sounds of your bodies meeting—wet and raw—fill the room, punctuated by the shameless cries spilling from your throat. Your climax slams into you with breathtaking intensity, your pussy spasming and gripping him so tightly, it pulls a scratchy groan from his lips.

Javier finally stills, buried to the hilt, letting you ride out the aftershocks as your shaking body collapses beneath him. He peppers soft kisses across your damp shoulders and down your spine, his mustache bristling deliciously against your skin.

When his lips find the curve of your neck, he lingers, licking at the delicate flesh there as though he can’t get enough of you.

Four orgasms in, your body feels utterly spent, your thighs trembling as the weight of exhaustion begins to set in. You turn your head, your voice soft as you murmur, “Javi.”

He lifts his head, his eyes searching yours with concern. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum, a lazy smile curling at your lips. “Just… hold me.”

His chest rises and falls with a staggered breath, the weight of his departure lingers like a shadow over the moment, threatening to sour it. But he pushes it away.

He pulls out of you slowly, the wet slide drawing a hushed whimper from your lips. He rolls onto his side, gathering you into his arms and tucking you against his chest. His still-hard cock, satiny and heavy, presses against your stomach, impossible to ignore.

You glance up at him, fingers trailing down his sternum toward his length. “Do you want me to…?”

He catches your wrist gently, stopping you. “No. Not yet.”

You hum your understanding, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. His arms tighten around you, his lips brushing the top of your head as the two of you settle into a lull of lazy, unhurried affection.

Kisses are exchanged between whispered words, hands mapping the planes of the other’s body.

Everything about him is so damn addictive. 

The lust that simmers reignites, pulling you under its spell, and this time, you don’t wait for permission. Your palm wraps firmly around his cock, tugging him languidly.

Javier’s lashes flutter, his head falling back slightly, exposing the strong line of his throat. A low sound escapes him as his hips move instinctively to match your strokes. “Fuck,” he groans, strained, “Así mero.” (Just like that)

Your thumb brushes over the bead of precum glistening at his tip, smearing it down his length, making him shudder. His jaw tightens, a muscle in his cheek twitching.

The whisper of his name is laced with need as your lips trace his neck. “I need you again.”

He hooks one of your legs over his hip, the other tangled with his in a side-styled missionary, your bodies pressed so tightly together that you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your breasts.

Your pussy lips part open, eager for him, and the anticipation buzzes through your body. You guide him where you need him and he lets his hips take over, the thick, spongy tip sinking into you until he’s fully seated.

A gasp escapes your lips as he starts to move, slow and purposeful.

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he keeps them hidden, burying his face against your throat, engulfing you in his arms entirely.

The thought of losing you cleaves at him, and a desperate idea flits through his mind—if he could just open up, let you see the broken pieces of himself, maybe you’d understand. Maybe you’d come with him to Laredo, let him show you, and himself, the quiet beauty of a life together on his family ranch.

The fantasy swells in his chest, making his thrusts grow more passionate. His teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder, almost enough to hurt.

You’re barely human anymore, lost in the voracious sensation of his cock stretching and filling you; just a mass of feverish energy.

Your fingers dig into his back, nails raking across his sweat-slicked skin as you cling to him, completely uncaring of the sticky warmth where your bodies connect or the thick scent of sex that permeates the air.

“Oh god, Javier,” you cry out, your voice breaking on a moan as you tilt your head back. “Keep doing that—oh my god—I love you.”

Your words are a jolt to his system, breaking down every defense he has left. He groans your name as his mouth trails up your throat, leaving a broad stripe of his tongue in its wake before nipping gently at your jaw.

“Say it again,” he breathes heavily as his hips grind deeper, the motion pulling an uncontrolled cry from you, your body jolting against his.

“I love you,” you babble as his movements turn rougher, more desperate.

He presses his forehead to yours, his gaze dark and wanton. “Kiss me,” he rasps.

You obey without hesitation, your lips finding his in a feverish clash of need and devotion.

Tongues tangle and teeth graze as if you’re trying to devour each other, your bodies writhing, desperate to become one.

“Where do you want it?” Javi grits out, hovering on the edge of his release. His chest heaves, feeling your nipples brushing his skin while his muscles turn taut as he tries to hold himself back for your answer.

You’re quivering from the aftermath of what feels like your fifth orgasm, maybe sixth—you’ve lost count.

Your mind is hazy, clouded with exhaustion and bliss, that his question barely registers. Your fingers clutch at his forearms, nails leaving crescent moons in his skin as you look up at him.

You manage a soft pout with trembling lips. “Inside,” You need it badly, your pussy instinctively clenching around his cock at the prospect of him filling you. Then, with more desperation, you plead. “Please, Javi.”

The way your lips purse, the edge of tears in your voice have his instincts taking over. A greedy, lustful desire too overpowering to resist.

He has to give you what you’re begging for.

“Fuck,” Javi groans, his head dropping against your shoulder, his voice muffled as curses and ragged breaths spill from his lips. He finishes inside of you in hot, shuddering waves.

The heat of his cum stuffing you has a blissful mewl escaping your lips. Your pussy insatiably holding onto every drop, milking him as though your body can’t bear to let him go.

He remains there, his cock twitching inside as the both of you ride out the ecstasy.

Javi makes no move to pull out, instead his arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close as his spend drips out around his cock and down to his balls.

Time feels like it bends and stretches, the minutes melting into hours as you lose yourselves in each other.

You fuck, you make out, you touch each other so tenderly that you’re certain you somehow managed to retrieve a slice of heaven right here in your bedroom.

The night gives way to the distant glow of dawn. The room is bathed in a soft, golden light as the sun peeks over the horizon.

You’re both exhausted, your bodies aching from the endless push and pull of pleasure, yet neither of you seems willing to stop.

Javier hovers above you, half lidded gaze locked with yours. Your legs are loosely wrapped around his middle while his hips move suavely. 

“Just one more,” he’s practically begging as those brown eyes of his bore into yours. He just needs one more. “You can do it, pretty girl. I know you can. Been doin’ so good all night.”

His lips finally find yours in an ardent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him yet again. You’re lost in all he’s given you, your world spinning as your final orgasm tears through you.

He follows shortly after, his hand wrapped around your jaw as he holds you steady while he pumps you full of his cum.

Javi turns gentle as he plants sweet kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. He caresses your thighs then up your side as your breathing slows.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”

He continues to knead and fondle, murmuring soft praises until you’re completely at ease, melting into him.

You’re drifting toward sleep, limbs heavy and utterly spent, your body glowing in the soft light of early morning. The faint sheen of sweat glistens on your skin, catching rays as they filter through the curtains.

Javier leans against the headboard, eyes tracing the length of your body beneath the sheets. The serenity in your expression tugs at a longing so profound, it’s painful. When his gaze flicks to the alarm clock on the bedside table, the time glares at him in bold red numbers.

His flight boards in a little over three hours.

The lump in his throat swells, a heavy, choking pressure that makes it feel like it’s going to explode and rupture his neck. He prays you can’t feel the way his heart beats erratically or how his body seems to radiate a fever level temperature as the anxiety settles in. 

Fuck.

He moves slowly, not wanting to wake you. Carefully, he shifts your body, rolling you to your side. You’re so pliant, so exhausted that you murmur something unintelligible before nuzzling into the pillow. 

He hesitates, watching as your breathing deepens again.

His jeans are tugged on first, the soft rustle of fabric barely audible in the quiet room. He doesn’t bother buttoning his shirt, draping it over his shoulders as he moves around, collecting his belongings. 

Maybe this is the cleanest way, he thinks bitterly. To just leave. Slip out before the inevitable fallout. You’ll hate him either way—better to make a quick exit than to sit through the heartbreak, to explain the compromised morals that led him here.

But as he tugs his boot on, you stir. Your arm stretches across the empty space where he once was, craving his warmth. When you feel nothing, you open your eyes, squinting against the pale light.

“Javi?” You call out drowsily and a little confused.

For a moment, he considers staying silent, waiting to see if you’ll fall back into slumber. But then you sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the heel of your hand.

You don’t care about the mascara smudged beneath your lashes or the eyeliner smearing your waterline. All you care about is the sight of him standing there, half-dressed, looking like he’s about to bolt.

“Why are you getting dressed?”

Javier licks his teeth, buying time he doesn’t have. His fingers flexing as if searching for something to hold onto. You catch the pained set of his jaw.

“I’m leaving.”

You blink, slow and disbelieving, as if the action will somehow help you make sense of what he just said. “Leaving? Where are you going?”

“To the airport.”

“Airport?” You’re more awake now, moving to the edge of the bed and reaching under where your robe lies in a heap.

The soreness in your muscles makes you wince as you bend to grab it, slipping it on as you stand. Your legs are wobbly, the remnants of the all nighter making themselves known. “Why? Did you get called back to Medellín?”

Javier watches you silently, his teeth grinding when you walk to him, your expression expectant and confused.

“I’m going back to Texas,” he finally answers.

“Texas?” The frown on your face deepens. “Is your dad okay?”

For you to assume his departure is over his father’s wellbeing somehow makes this worse. His lips press into a thin line, eyes darting away. “He’s fine.”

“Then why are you—” You pause, exhaling sharply, exasperation bubbling at his curt replies. You hate when he gets like this. You figured you’d be past it now.“Why are you going back?”

He struggles to form but a few words at a time. “I got suspended,” he tells you. “Indefinitely. Flight’s out at nine.”

The room falls silent. That’s the last thing you expected to hear.

“How long have you known?”

“Found out this afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You glare at him. “You were just going to leave without saying anything?” That hurts.

“I didn’t want to ruin your night. I was trying to make it easier.” He stupidly answers.

“Easier?” Your voice rises slightly, incredulous. “Sneaking out after spending all night with me makes this easier? For who, Javi? You or me?”

His expression blazes with guilt. “You don’t understand what this is—what I’m trying to… protect you from.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you fire back, your hands trembling as you tuck them into the pockets of your robe to keep from reaching for him. “You tell me that you love me and give me all these empty promises only to sneak out after you’ve fucked me.” He winces. “What are you protecting me from now? From you? From us?”

Javier’s nostrils flare, his breathing ragged. Every point you make is so valid and it crushes him. “From the mess I’ve made.”

“Then tell me what the hell happened.” You can’t help him if you don’t know what’s killing him. “Be direct. Stop shutting me out and just talk to me! I deserve that much.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to deflect again, to retreat into the same cagey silence. But then he exhales sharply, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will.

“I killed him.”

The simplicity of it leaves you puzzled. “Who?”

“Mateo.”

Your chest tightens, trying to recall what he’s already told you about the other’s demise. “You said he died in the crossfire—”

“I lied.” The admission lands with the force of a hit, and Javier’s eyes meet yours, pleading for understanding but knowing it’s a futile hope. “I found him. Holed up in Cartagena. I dragged him out myself. Took him to a warehouse.” He grows quieter with each word, but the confession barrels forward. “I beat him. Then I emptied the entire clip into his body.”

The room goes deathly still, the echoes of his words lingering in the air. Even the rhythm of your breathing slows, like your body needs time to process what you’ve just heard.

“You… you dragged him out,” you repeat, as if saying it again might change its meaning. “You took him to a warehouse.”

He nods once, a sharp, curt motion, feeling as if he’s watching this outside of himself.

“And you—” The words burn in your throat. “You killed him. Like that. You… tortured him.”

“I had to.” The anguish bleeds through his words.

Had to.

It feels like the ground has just given out beneath you. Your lips part, but no words come. You’re staring at him like you’re seeing someone entirely different.

“Had to?” you can’t help but parrot, the excuse tastes bitter on your tongue. “Why couldn’t you just arrest him?” Mateo deserved all his suffering, sure, but it wasn’t up to Javier to enact it as so.

You’d made peace with the idea of his death when you thought it happened in the chaos of a raid. But this? This is something else entirely.

“It’s not that simple,” he tries, his voice rigid with frustration, but it feels like an insult to your intelligence. 

“Is this why you got fired? Because they found out you killed him?”

Another pause. His hesitation only stokes the fire burning in your chest.

“No.”

Now you’re spiraling, your mind racing to conjure something worse than killing a man that could’ve cost him his career.

You take a step closer, toe to toe now, your robe hanging loosely off your frame, his shirt still unbuttoned and exposing his chest. It’s hard to believe you were just entwined in carnal bliss. “What did you do, Javier?”

There’s so much hurt laced in your question, it’s a wonder the room doesn’t shatter around you. He looks away, his lips rubbing absentmindedly, mustache twitching as he struggles to form a response.

“I cooperated with them,” his confession feels jagged. “The cartels. The paramilitary assholes. Get Escobar—that was the goal.”

Your legs move on instinct, a shaky step backward, and Javier follows reflexively, his hand half-reaching for you before he thinks better of it. His presence only makes it worse, his body too close, his words too loud in your ears.

It’s like every fear wrapped into one devastating realization. After everything you went through—after the pain he watched you try to claw your way back from—he still went out there, trading his soul for deals made in blood.

“You knew what they did to me,” disappointment strings your words together, and while you understand that it wasn’t the same men who jumped you—they are all still cut from the same cloth. “You saw what they took from me, and you still…”

“There wasn’t another way,” he insists, desperate now, the plea in his eyes almost unbearable to look at. “I did what I had to do to bring him down.”

“There’s always another way!” You yell, the words ripping from your throat like they’re trying to drag the hurt out of you with them. “But you didn’t care. Not about the innocent people they killed or the lives they ruined.”

His face twists in anguish, as if he hadn’t been beating himself up for all the civilians that became casualties, but you don’t stop. The distress boils over, spilling out of you in a torrent. “The job always takes priority. Above everything—above everyone.”

Your hands act on their own, shoving at his chest as if the force could make him feel even an ounce of the pain you’re carrying. Javier doesn’t resist. He lets you push him, lets your palms land against him over and over, taking it all because he knows he deserves it.

“How am I supposed to look at you the same?” You demand, tears streaming freely down your face now, each one a testament to the betrayal sinking its claws into you. You shove him again, harder this time, backing him toward the living room. “How am I supposed to trust you when you’ve been lying to me this whole time?”

His own eyes glisten, cheek tensing in distress, but he doesn’t say a word because he can’t.

“You’re no better, Javier. You’re just like them.”

You begin to get flashbacks of your confrontation with Mateo. His callous words echo in your head, overlapping with Javier’s explanations. The two begin to blur together, their justifications eerily aligned, like different faces of the same haunting coin.

“This world isn’t all black and white like you think it is. People like me—we do what we have to, to survive.”

You stare at him, and for a moment, he’s not the man you love anymore. He’s another wraith from the nightmare you barely escaped.

“I know.”

He’s such a self-aware asshole, and it makes you livid. The way he stands there, bracing himself like he knows he deserves everything you’re throwing at him—like he’s already written himself off as the villain in this story. It’s infuriating.

The morning light streams in through the windows, slicing across the room in uneven beams. It’s amplifying everything: every emotion, every movement, every goddamn look he gives you as you stand off in the middle of the living room.

“Despite it all… you still found the time to fuck me. And I let you.”

You can feel the fire licking up your neck, but it’s not from embarrassment—it’s from the sting of humiliation. How you let yourself be fooled twice by two different men. 

You tighten your robe around you, the soft fabric suddenly feeling like sandpaper against your skin. Everything feels wrong now.

He watches you, his expression etched with guilt for making you question your worth. Despite it, he doesn’t regret taking you to bed.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you continue, more to yourself than to him, carrying anger and self-loathing. “For trusting you again. For ignoring every single red flag you waved in my face. You weren’t just a shitty friend, Javi. You were a walking disaster, and I still let you back in.”

He flinches, but it’s not enough. You want him to feel it, to feel the way your heart aches and how your trust, fragile and carefully rebuilt, crumbles to dust at your feet.

“You should’ve stayed gone,” you state with another shove, forcing him closer to the front door. He continues to comply, stumbling backwards in silence, letting you release it all.

“If you cared about me at all, you would’ve stayed away. You just had to come back, had to get your hands on me again. And I was so desperate—so fucking desperate to believe you’d be different.”

You laugh tearfully, hands falling to your sides as you stand in the short hallway that leads to the entrance. “But you’re not different. You’re just a man with nothing but a big ego that’s drowning in his own penitence.”

He swallows hard, your words reverberating with the sickening truth and he wills himself to speak.

“Nothing was getting done,” Javi begins, the weariness of it all finally breaking him. “No one fucking cared. That motherfucker kept killing people, bombing the streets all while getting richer and untouchable. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I worked, it wasn’t enough. And then—” His voice tapers, gaze dropping for just a moment before moving back to yours.

“And then you got hurt. That was one thing I could fix. I could right the wrong, make you feel safer. I did it for you!”

“For me?” You scoff out a doubting laugh. “So, what, you decided you’d be judge, jury, and executioner? You think killing him—brutally, no less—makes any of it better? That it erases what he did to me?”

“It was a start—”

“You didn’t do this for me, Javier,” you cut him off, your voice teetering with fury and hurt. “You did it for you. To ease your guilt, to feel like you had control.”

His breathing grows ragged, his hands trembling at his sides. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to get so fucking lost I couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad anymore? I did what I had to do!”

“Stop saying that!” 

“I don’t know how else to fix this,” he fires back.

“And I don’t know how to believe you,” you whisper, the fight draining from your voice as tears spill freely down your cheeks. “All you do is hurt me, Javi.”

Javier steps back, his shoulders slumping, his entire frame caving in. Desperation flickers in his eyes as he reaches for the only card he has left to play—the last, sapped attempt to salvage what little remains.

 “I’m sorry,” he breathes, though it’s barely audible. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your body freezes when he gets closer. His large hands tremble slightly as they cup your face.

“I never wanted to hurt you. Te amo.” He murmurs, his voice soft and pained as his forehead presses against yours. His lips brush yours, and it sends a jolt through your body, a cruel reminder of all the ways he’s managed to slither his way back into your heart and mind. 

Your lips quiver, salty wet trails streaking your cheeks. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head and pushing against his chest, your palms meeting his bare skin where his shirt falls open. You manage to break away, the distance between you offering only the barest reprieve.

But Javier doesn’t stop. He steps forward again, crowding you, his desperation palpable. “Please, cariño,” he implores. “I love you. I need you to know that. I’m sorry—so sorry.” The words tumble out of him in a desperate loop, growing more frantic each time, as if sheer repetition might somehow undo the damage. 

And fuck do you hear the genuine ache there, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve heard it all before—the apologies, the promises, the declarations. None of it fixes this. 

Despite your actions, your body betrays you. Even as you try to shove him away, you feel the magnetic pull, the infuriating draw that keeps you tangled in his orbit. It’s a push and pull, your hands shoving at his chest while your heart screams at you to stop.

And you hate him for it. For the way he makes you feel. For the way his arms still feel like home even as your love for him falls apart.

“All I hear is excuses. Like always. Get off me, Javier.” Your voice shakes, but the resolve in it is ironclad, each word laced with finality. You swallow back your sobs, forcing yourself to sound strong—for him, for yourself. He hears it too; the end is in your tone. You’re done.

His hands linger on your waist for a moment longer, the satin of your robe bunched helplessly in his grasp. Reluctantly, he lets go, his back brushing against the doorknob as if the exit is pushing him to leave.

Javier’s gaze lingers over you one last time, absorbing every detail like a man cataloging his losses.

The swollen redness of your eyes and how you seem to fold into yourself as if shielding your heart from further harm. Because of him. The betrayal etched deep into your expression cuts deeper than any wound he’s ever felt. Because of him. It all screams painful vulnerability, lowered self-esteem you didn’t have before.

All he’s done is hurt you. Him and his inability to separate his good intentions from his devastating habits. Him and his selfishness, pursuing you when he knew better.

Now you get a good look at him: disheveled, bags shadowing his weary eyes, faint bruises staining his jawline, his heaving chest exposed and slick with the sweat of desperation.

You both stand in silence, weighed down by words unspoken because there’s nothing left to say. The air between you is charged with the knowledge that you despise what he’s become.

He reaches for the door and opens it, the sound of the bolt sliding back loud in the tense silence.

Time marches on, indifferent to your heartbreak, and Javier hesitates, his boots heavy as they meet the threshold.

Gathering every ounce of strength left in you, you find your voice. “Please leave… and don’t come back.”

Your voice prompts him, cold and resolute, and it takes everything in him to obey. He steps out, the apartment door left wide open behind him.

He turns, desperate for one last look, the soft daylight framing him like a man on the edge of a cliff. “I love you.”

You grip the edge of the door, willing yourself not to fall apart further. “Not anymore,” you whisper, venom interwoven through the statement. “Never again.”

And with that, you shut the door in his face, turning the lock with trembling hands.

The weight of it all crashes over you now that you’re alone and you stumble back, collapsing right there on the floor. You bury your face in the crook of your elbow to muffle the sobs racking your body as you begin to mourn the loss of the man you loved.

On the other side of the door, Javier stands frozen, the loss sinking into his bones. The worn numbers of your apartment stare back at him, mocking him with their permanence.

He blinks slowly, a single tear leaking from his eye as his fingers brushing the wood one last time before he turns away, dragging his feet next door, knowing that he’s lost you forever.

Months later, you receive a letter.

The envelope is creased and smudged, the handwriting unmistakably his—slanted, hurried, like he couldn’t get the words down fast enough. You almost toss it, but that small, unhealed part in your heart with his name carved on it keeps you from doing so.

I’m sorry. For everything. I think about you every day, and I know I have no right to, but I do. I hope you’re happy. You deserve that much…

You read it over and over until the words blur.

You never write back. There’s no reason to.

Some love stories don’t end with a clean break or a tidy resolution. Some just… linger, like a wound that scabs over but never truly heals.

And that’s what you and Javier become: a scar, a memory that neither of you can fully let go of, no matter how hard you try.

tag list for my works can be found here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @thundermartini . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @penascigarette . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz . @biapascal .

[emmyrosee]

She got her quiet sneaking in from you.

Kenma’s fingers tap roughly on the controller in his hands, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in focus. He’s died four times to this monster, its shrieks of agony scaring him once embarrassingly in front of his chat, the other three deaths because, now that he’s past being scared, Kenma realizes what a damn hard boss this is.

“Chat, I’m telling you right now, if I see this dev in the streets, I’m taking a crowbar to their knee caps- this is a promise, not a warniIIIIIIING!”

He lurches from the gentle tug of his elbow, heart sinking to his chest in complete fear and acceptance that this is it for him, he’s dead. His arm is ripped away from the source, but when he hears a tiny gasp in fear, Kenma’s heart beats calmly again.

“Daddy okay?” Maesi asks, and kenma pauses the game to turn to her.

“You startled me baby,” he teases, and she blocks up at him with doe eyes to coax him to forgive her. As if she really needs to do that. “But what’s up beautiful?” He asks, putting down his controller and stretching. “How are you, angel?”

Maesi hums and passes her father the plate, her eyes peering up at him timidly- a trait he wants to blame on you, but every time, he’s met with a cocked eyebrow from you. “Want french fry?”

Kenma chuckles and nods, “I mean, you know I’m never gonna say no to fries,” he says, reaching down to grab the lukewarm fry from her tiny plastic plate. God knows how long they’ve been out, at least four hours; but that doesn’t stop kenma from letting his little girl take care of him in her own way. “You wanna be in daddy’s stream? Say hi to chat?” When she nods, Kenma lifts her up and into his lap, and once done, he reaches over to pick up another fry. In his headphones, Kenma hears that he got a donation.

Thank you kuroosassscheek for gifted 75 subs: hey Kenma there’s something behind you

“Thank you, Kuroo,” he scoffs. “Spawn, say hi to chat and uncle Tetsu.”

“Hi chat, hi uncle Tetsu,” she hums shyly, and Kenma kisses her temple around his chewing. “What playin’?”

“Daddy’s playing a scaaaary game,” he says, voice hiked slightly while he gasps. Maesi giggles before passing him another fry, which he takes quickly.

“Gonna have nightmare,” she warns.

Kenma raises his brows in agreement, “mommy’s gonna have to tuck me in.”

“Me too,” she mumbles, curling into Kenma’s hoodie, nose burrowing into his neck and tickling his skin slightly. “Play Star Valley?” She asks.

He hugs her tightly with a fake groan of effort, and she giggles happily, “you want to watch daddy play Stardew Valley?”

“Yeah..”

“Does mumma know you’re in here?”

Maesi is quiet- he chuckles and shakes his head, letting her get comfortable against him. He knows you’re not far, probably asleep on the couch, and Kenma prepares himself to potentially have to carry his two sleeping babies to bed.

“Alright- one second chat,” he says simply, grabbing his controller to change the game to the easy, calming game Maesi loves to watch him play. “We’ll pick that up tomorrow. Gotta protect myself from nightmares.”

Once again, Maesi lets out a little laugh; she tucks her face as close as she can to him, only shifting to grab another fry to munch on. He tips his head slightly again, to plant a kiss on the crown of her head, the soothing music in his headphones gets placed on her head, and before kenma can start any of his tasks, he feels Maesi’s breathing even out, her plate of fries and nuggets placed somewhere on the desk for him to take.

And that’s okay. He’ll play for a while, just in case she wakes up, and he’ll let her sleep in confidence in her fathers arms. Kenma’s pleased as the numbers in his stream doesn’t immediately drop: it stays, even now as it’s been hijacked by the one he loves most.

This 🥺🩷

[jeon-ify]

thoughts - choi san ft. mingi (part 2)

a/n: idk girl… i kinda want mingi to fuck her with tied up san and make him watch 😩

warnings: mean!dom mingi, sub!tied up san, swearing, pussy slapping, fingering, squirting, mingi fucks reader in front of san, spit play, face slapping, degradation, titty slapping, etc. if i missed anything lmk !

enjoy! not proofread :)

—————————————————————————————

the 2 weeks went by extremely fast, considering how you’ve spent it with san the entire time— in and out of his dorm. you felt guilty, but he was filling that void for you.

the drive to the airport felt like a dread. you wanted mingi to come back, honestly. but you didn’t want to go back to the vanilla sex that you’d been having with your boyfriend from this point on. you pull into the lane with doubt, maybe he’s upped his sex game, maybe he doesn’t want sex anymore. you think about ways to bring up the topic, but it just doesn’t flow.

you swerve into the lane to wait for mingi. after 20 minutes, you get out of the car and wait in the airport lobby for him. he arrives shortly, running to hug you and seeming so tired after working so hard. he wanted to surprise you with his project, but the last thing that was on your mind throughout those two weeks were what he was doing in japan.

“my baby, i missed you so much! how was japan?” you exclaim. he hugs you tightly, kissing you all over your face. your heart ached before him, not knowing how to handle the guilt.

how could you?

“it was so great, but i missed you so much, y/n.” he relaxes his head on your shoulder through the hug, your body warmth making him sleepy.

you carry his backpack and take his duffles to the car as he follows you out. he sits beside you, turning up the radio and listening to your playlist. “what’d you do while i was gone? we barely spoke.”

his head turns to face you as he questions you. it feels like you’re being convicted of a felony, your heart falls to your ass as you try to come up with a lie. he watches your breathing change and your face flush with red.

“honestly i was super bored. i…” you pause, taking in a deep breath and chuckling before continuing your bullshit, “don’t know how i managed. how was your filmmaking? was it exciting?”

he stays quiet, his face straight, plastered with suspicion.

“it was exciting, thanks. what’d you do the day i left? yeosang said you stopped by. what was that about?” you literally cannot come up with anything else, so you decide to ‘tell the truth’.

“i was bored so i hung out with wooyoung and jongho for a little bit but then i went home, why?” you reach a red light as mingi grabs your thigh, squeezing tightly. he squeezes almost too tight that it begins to hurt.

“mm, but they weren’t at the house, y/n. what were you doing there?” he looks out the window, trying to think of what he’ll do when you confess and make it easier so he’s not worried about if you’re cheating or not— he’d just know. he hopes he’s wrong, though.

“n-no. mingi, you’re hurting me.” he squeezes your inner thigh as the car swerves just a little bit out of the lane. you feel like he’s gonna rip a chunk of your thigh off of you, tears welling up in your eyes.

“yeah? it didn’t hurt me when i heard you on the phone fucking san? do you think i’m stupid, y/n? i told you not to go near san, didn’t i?” you fall silent as your ears begin to ring.

he knew.

but san didn’t say anything?

but he heard your voice.

“fucking answer me,” he brings his hand up to your throat to cut off your airways as a threat to make you speak.

“y-yes,” you gasp. you literally feel like your body gave up on you as your limbs all fall numb into mingi’s touch.

“why are you fucking my friends? the one friend i told you to fucking stay away from. he’s married, hm? you’re home-wrecking, darling. are you a whore? are you san’s whore?”

“n-no, mingi, please,” you moan. he lets you go as you pull into the driveway of your home, seeing a familiar car parked in the front.

leaving all his luggage in the trunk, he slams the door closed as he goes to open your door. he pulls you out by your wrist, slamming the door shut behind you and dragging you into the house. you stop in your tracks when you see a familiar pair of shoes on the doormat.

“keep walking.” he demands. your legs shake in fear and somehow, arousal. mingi has never been this rough with you, and somehow it sends a shock down to your core.

you slowly walk over to your shared bedroom, opening the door and seeing what you thought you’d never see— san on your bed.

you stop and stare at the man on mingi’s side of the bed. he’s sat up straight with his hands tied behind his back, his feet tied together, and a black piece of duct tape on his mouth. a layer of sweat envelopes his toned torso, his black hair slowly moves with every breath he takes. the silver chain he wears is now covered in beads of sweat as the veins in his neck become more prominent. you would be lying if you said that you didn’t want to bounce on his dick at that given moment.

you feel mingi’s chest press against your back as his hand moves to wrap itself around your throat. he feels your heartbeat through your neck, gulping in fear.

“what’s wrong, baby? cat got your tongue?” his deep voice grumbles in your ear. his teeth graze against your ear, sending chills down your body.

“m-mingi, what’s going on?” you shake and try to break away from mingi’s grasp, not breaking eye contact with the man tied up on your boyfriend’s side of the bed.

“you thought i wouldn’t know if you were whoring around with my friends? i’m many things, but i’m not stupid.” he lets go of you, shoving you further into the room and closer to san.

you hear san whimper, his head thrown back in irritation from how he can’t fuck you into oblivion in front of your boyfriend.

san loved so many things about you— but what he loved the most was how turned on he gets whenever you get helpless. you’re like a brainless whore he wants to fuck over and over— just for him to use.

it’s almost like a continuous battle between the two— and hopefully, your boyfriend would win. you’re rooting for him.

san groans something that you make out to say “take this off,” but he’s enjoying every minute of it. he feels like he’s gonna cum in his pants from the way mingi is undressing you.

mingi takes your sweats off first, then proceeds to taking off your tanktop. you gasp and try to cover your chest as he takes your bra off with only one hand. when he sees your hands fly up to cover yourself, he pins your wrist between his large hands.

“let’s not act all modest now, y/n.”

he proceeds to sliding your soaked panties off, a string of arousal connected to your pussy makes mingi groan, and san’s eyes roll.

mingi pulls you by your hair and bends you over the dresser in front of san. he stands beside your bare body, staring at san through the reflection of the mirror. both of their breaths pick up at the sight, mingi glaring at san and watching him stare at his naked girlfriend.

“i’m gonna ask you once, y/n. is he better?” mingi challenges you in answering the question you fear your life to answer. of course san was better at sex, but you’d never admit to your boyfriend.

“fuck! no, please—“ you feel your legs weaken as mingi plunges two fingers into your sopping cunt, not giving you the chance to answer his question. he lands a sharp slap onto your cunt, making your body shiver.

“no?” his fingers move quickly, feeling the way you’re about to cum all over his fingers. he feels you sucking him in and clenching around his long fingers, so he pulls out before you could release.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry, mingi.” your breath hitches as you cry out in desperation for a release— and a hint of guilt. you literally feel like karma is biting you in the ass, no matter how pleasured you are.

with your juices all over his middle fingers, mingi’s tall and lean figure walks over to san and rips the tape off of his face. san winces in pain, a smirk plastered all over his face. a soft red tint blankets his skin as he takes in a deep breath and licks his puffy lips.

“open— there you go. taste my girlfriend’s cum all over my fingers.” mingi groans— impossibly but somehow possibly— growing harder at the action of his friend sucking your precum off his fingers.

“she tastes phenomenal, mingi. you’ve missed out.” san breathes out deeply after mingi releases his fingers with a pop. you watch the entire scene happen before you, your thighs clenching with need. you’re taken aback when mingi grips the back of san’s head, forcing him to stand up straight.

“y/n, come here.” you follow his command weakly. you immediately fall to your knees before the two men, legs shaking as mingi moves the strand of hair that delicately falls on your forehead. he makes you seem so innocent, but he knows, and so do you and san know, that that is far from what you are.

san watches as you drool before your boyfriend. “open your mouth, pretty girl,” san speaks up as he lands a wad of spit onto your tongue. you swallow with pride, watching mingi glare at the encounter before him.

“you just open your mouth to anyone, mm?” mingi is upset, but san is so fucking turned on, he literally feels like he’s gonna explode.

you (un)intentionally unzip mingi’s pants, looking san in the eyes. you pull the band of his boxers down, revealing his aching cock, just for you to claim into your throat. you lick a long stripe up the length, not breaking eye contact with san as you so whore-ishly suck on your boyfriend’s cock.

“thinking of me, butterfly? remember me when you fuck him, ‘kay?” the man says as you take mingi’s entire length into your mouth, the aching tip touching the back of your throat making your eyes water.

as his hand starts forming a makeshift ponytail and pushing your head down, san wishing he can break free from the restrains on his hands. he so badly wants to pull out his painful cock and start stroking himself before the both of you.

“mingi, you’re so big. how’s she gonna take you?” san questions, his breath hitching and deepening.

“she’s been stretched out enough. i’m sure you’re loose now from all the dick you’ve been taking while i was gone, yeah?” he pulls you off of his length to throw you onto the bed like a ragdoll.

you gasp at the action, san’s head turning to face you as he whines.

“please, untie me. wanna cum so bad.”

mingi ignores his friend’s cries, moving down to spit on your abused cunt. he slides his tank top off, throwing it somewhere in the room as he leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead. a sign of care slightly shows in mingi’s eyes, but the way he plunges his cock so hard into you immediately blocks out the kind gesture he gave you. your legs jolt at the powerful and radical thrusts that mingi gives you, crying out for mercy.

“fuck, mingi sl-slow down! it hurts,” you’re not sure if you want him to stop, but it hurts so good.

he lands a painfully sharp slap onto your right tit, making you wince out in pain and pleasure.

“yeah? but you can fuck san for days and not say anything? who’s hurt, darling? which one of us is really hurt?” you feel so fucking guilty. your eyes well up in tears as you try to apologize, because mingi’s given you nothing but love, respect, support, and most of all, he understood you the way no one else could.

how could you do something so terrible to him?

“i’m sorry! i’m so fucking sorry-“ you’re reaching your orgasm, cumming on the base of mingi’s cock. he feels you clenching around him as his thrusts come to a slow. his hand rubs on the red area on your chest, leaving a kiss on the irritated spot.

“yeah? how sorry? use your words,” his deep voice is so beautiful, it almost makes you cum again from the way he’s talking in your ear.

“f-for fucking your friends, i— fuck, please—“ you cry out.

while san watches, a spot on his pants becomes a darker shade, indicating that he literally came in his pants. he’s been moaning and whining and whimpering, all while mingi fucks you senseless.

“listen to me, hyung. if you ever get near my girl again, i’ll fucking kill you, you hear me?” mingi doesn’t face san, nor does he blink. he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he pounds into you deeply, hitting your cervix over and over, making you squirt around him and staining his sheets. his hand caresses your cheek as his warm minty breath fans into your face. his eyes roll to the back of his head, listening to your cries.

san doesn’t answer. instead, he groans and tries to wriggle his hands out of the restraints. he watches his friend fuck you hard, wishing it were him. he’s fucked you all 14 days, he just can’t get enough.

neither can mingi— as he licks up the tears that flow onto your cheeks.

“why are you crying, hm? do you feel sorry for being a slut behind my back?” mingi’s faux concern masks his lust, making you clench around him for the fourth time tonight.

“you’re clenching me so tight, oh my goddd, ‘m not going anywhere,” he pulls out before you can cum around him, standing up to untie san.

“fuck, thank you, mingi.” san hurries to take his pants off and stand before you, stroking his painfully hard cock. mingi watches as san gets off on his own girlfriend, not understanding how he hasn’t killed him yet for looking at you.

“you can fuck her, and don’t hold back. she likes it hard.” mingi speaks up, making your heart drop to your ass as you’re about to cheat on your boyfriend again, in front of him.

“m-mings—“ you’re silenced by san’s hand around your mouth as he immediately plunges his long and familiar cock into your wet, stretched out pussy. he pounds into you almost in an animalistic manner, making your vision cloud and your stomach clench from the painful orgasm.

“don’t call out for him, i’m the one fucking you, look at me.” he groans out as he grabs your chin, forcing you to watch him fuck you again.

mingi sits where san was, jerking off his long and hard length from how hot it was that you were so helpless and ‘innocent’ from fucking someone else.

“slap her.”

san lands a sharp slap on the left side of your face, grabbing your jaw and moving you back into place just to slap you again.

he repeats the action one more time as you slap him back. his thrusts stop. feeling disrespected and taken aback, san thrusts into you harder as your body jolts and shakes. you squirt again, all over san as mingi whimpers and groans from beside you.

“shit! i’m cumming, fucking cumming, mingi. where—“ you whine out again, mingi standing up and reaching his orgasm as well.

“me too, fuck— cum on her tits, all over her.”

“cum all over me, please—“ you whine out with a dry throat while both men release their load all over your chest, even on your chin.

“so much cum, just for my bitch, yeah?” mingi groans breathily as you nod for him in response.

san walks away to clean up and put his clothes on in the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone.

“go near that fucker again, i’ll kill the both of you in a heartbeat. am i clear?” he says with a doe eyed smile as if he was a puppy, planting a kiss on your plump lips.

“y-yes.”

————

i—

my god.

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 1

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you’re in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, use of marijuana, use of alcohol, sexual speech and content, anxiety attack, homophobia, brief mentions of predatory men, potential smut in the future so minors do not interact, a little bit enemies to lovers

word count: 3.6k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

You lean against the living room wall, holding three of your friends’ purses along with your own. The intoxication from a cup of jungle juice from an hour ago was beginning to wear off. You didn’t mean to become the unofficial mom friend of the group tonight, but your reluctance to endure more close-quartered gyrating cemented the position. If you had to utter another “excuse you” to an incredibly handsy frat boy, you’d be getting kicked out for an aggravated assault attempt. 

You didn’t really mind sobering up a bit, not tonight. Whether it was your hazy thoughts or the particular ambience in this frat house, you just weren’t in a huge mood to socialize. 

Earlier this morning, your friends had flooded your group chat with enthusiastic messages about yet another party happening later that night. It was a regular fall Saturday at your university, which meant there was always a rager or two. 

You were perfectly fine tagging along with your friend group to these events, though. You were well aware of your friends’ ulterior motives in pushing you to come out, but you chose to ignore it. Instead, you’d allowed them to hype you up while getting ready earlier that evening. Some pre-gaming had ensued in the form of vodka shots, and sharing of eyeshadow palettes & lipsticks had occurred when dolling up pre-party. 

“Babes, if you don’t teach me how to do my eye makeup the way you do, I swear…” Your friend Sidney whined next to you as she watched your steady hand apply finishing touches to your eyes. 

You chuckled but said nothing as you set your liquid eyeliner down and reached for your setting spray. There was no need for such meticulous styling to your makeup for some trivial frat party. You mostly did it for your own satisfaction, but a particular memory had tugged at your brain with every brush stroke. But this memory remained unacknowledged as you fanned your newly set face. 

You’d allowed yourself a revealing outfit tonight: a lacy black bralette peaking from underneath a maroon leather jacket and a tight black miniskirt that flounced with the slightest movement. Peaking from underneath your shirt was a pair of fishnet stockings. Topping it off was your favourite pair of knee-high black boots. This particular attire garnered squeals and wolf whistles from your friends in their equally slutty outfits. 

A couple of hours later, however, your appearance was a contradiction to your spiritless demeanor. You were tired and sweaty, the majority of your foundation having been perspired off in this sauna of a gathering. Feet blistering as a betrayal of high-heel boots, you struggled to keep yourself upright against the wall. 

“Hey, hot stuff.” An approaching voice says. 

Your eyes darted to the sound, ready to hurl a harsh “fuck off” at whatever creep decided to enter your sobering bubble. But upon spotting the culprit, you relaxed immediately. 

“Hey, Jesse.” You exhaled. 

“Damn, you looked like you were gonna rip me a new one just now.” He chuckled. 

“Sorry, sorry. You know how it can be at these shit parties.” 

Jesse was a rare guy friend of yours. You didn’t make a habit of befriending boys at college, but he was an exception. 

You’d met him freshman year when your friend group merged with another on the way to some start-of-the-year party. After some mutual friends introduced you, you hit it off almost immediately. 

Jesse was easy to talk to, never a creep or too invasive. You loved his dumb dad jokes and loyal nature. He never hit on you, even before finding out you were a lesbian. During tough times in recent years, he was there for you. He was a genuine guy who you’d instinctively trust your drink with. And right now, he was good company to have when you were alone and wistful at these stressful shindigs. 

“I get it, dude. But mom friend again tonight?” He asks, gesturing to the mass of purses in your hands. 

You shrug and reply, “It’s cool.” 

“Man, you’ve danced probably a total of three times at one of these things since last year. Are you even having fun?” 

“Eh. After three years, I’m a senior citizen.” 

“So what does that make me, since I’m graduating this year?” He asks, mockingly put his hands on his hips. 

“Ancient,” You reply, sticking your tongue out at him. 

Jesse places a hand on his chest and gasps dramatically, replying, “Fucking rude.” 

You chuckle. 

“I’m really okay, though.” You reassure him. “The girls wanted to go out tonight, but I’m just a bit tired.” 

“Tired or overstimulated?” 

You smile at his understanding. 

“Both.” 

He chuckles.

“Some cool people are passing around a fat ass joint outside. Wanna join?” 

You hold up the handful of purses you were tasked to guard as a response. 

“Alright, gimme,” He says, reaching his hand out. “Mom friend substitute while you go get high.” 

“You don’t wanna smoke?” 

“It’s cool, that’s where I’ve been for the last half hour or so. I should cool off for a little bit anyways.” 

You feel guilty for leaving Jesse to watch your belongings, even for a few short minutes. But his fingers wiggle expectantly and you know there was no point in arguing. 

“Thanks, dude.” You exhale as you hand off your weight. “Probably been needing a few hits of a j all night, anyway.” 

“Looks like it. Go ahead; D’s out there smoking with them if you wanna say hi.” 

“Oh, nice. Haven’t seen her tonight yet. Be back in a sec, then.” 

You tear yourself off from your spot on the wall and will your blistered feet to move towards the door. Not absolutely sober yet, you stumble across the living room before you could push past the screen door and into the brisk October air. Following the smell of pot laced with lavender in the air, you see a circle of people hanging out by a parked Jeep, illuminated slightly by the embers of a joint being passed around. 

Lavender? 

“Oh, fuck.” You say a little too loudly. 

A few heads turn towards your voice, one of which was Dina’s. 

“Hey, babe! I didn’t know you were here!” She says enthusiastically, approaching you with a bounce in her step. She pulls you into a brief but tight embrace. 

“Been here for the past hour, D.” You laugh nervously. “Where have you been?” 

“Been helping El’s lazy ass roll a fuckton of j’s for the past half hour that she was supposed to roll for customers before the party. But now, we’re just chilling. Want a hit?” 

Dina’s chin tilts towards the Jeep. Your eyes follow her aim to the girl sitting on its hood. Your breathing stops when you see the very person you were hoping not to encounter tonight. 

She was unmistakable in a simple grey, unbuttoned flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves to show off an arm tattoo, slightly distressed jeans, and her old Converse sneakers. A few strands of auburn hair fell in front of her face out of the usual half-bun. You watch as her eyebrows—the right one with its notable slit slashed through—furrowed in concentration as she attempts to relight the joint in her pursed lips. 

Your throat closes up and you feel your heart clench tightly in your chest. 

Ellie. 

You immediately redirect your eyes back to Dina before Ellie can look up from behind her left hand shielding the lighter from the slight breeze. 

“Uh, no. I’m good. Just needed to step out for a hot sec. Needed a breather from the sea of raging hormones in there.” 

Another breeze suddenly hits your exposed skin, colder than the last. You figure this was a good way to excuse yourself back into the house. 

“I’m about to freeze my tits off out here, though. Gonna head back in.” You hug your arms around your bare stomach, goosebumps starting to form. 

You begin to turn right back around, but Dina grabbed your arm. 

“Oh! You came with Sidney and them, right? She said you were all planning on going to Sterling’s after this.” 

“We were?” You ask, thrown off and a little irritated that your friends hadn’t consulted you in this change of plans. 

“Yeah! We’re gonna come with ‘cause I’m craving a blueberry pancake bad and Jesse’s deranged self wants a strawberry milkshake.” Dina affectionately rolls her eyes. “Just let us know when you leave? We’ll head out with you.” 

“Um, sure.” Your heart begins to pound twice its normal speed. 

By “we,” did she mean—? 

“Okay, yay! We should go soon ‘cause I feel the munchies creeping up on me. I blame El for smoking me out as thanks for my rolling services.” 

The auburn-haired girl smirks at Dina’s comment, but you refuse to look at her this time. Instead, your eyes trail after the joint that Ellie was now passing to the girl to her left. 

The girl looked unfamiliar, but something in her face and posture screamed “freshman.” A brown motorcycle jacket was laying on top of her shoulders. Joel’s old motorcycle jacket. Ellie’s jacket. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes and settle for pursing your lips. 

Chivalrous fuckboy graciously offering her jacket to a beautiful lady. Typical Ellie Williams move. 

You don’t allow yourself to dwell on whether Ellie had decided to lend her dad’s old jacket to a pretty stranger or a new girlfriend. You certainly don’t allow yourself to settle on which scenario would hurt your feelings more. And you definitely don’t dwell on the fact that she’s pulled this move on you more than once in the past. 

The girl takes no notice of your gaze as she accepts the joint, taking a hit. 

“I love that you always add lilac to these, Ellie. It smells so much better than a regular j.” 

Biting back the impulse to correct the girl, you merely look back at Dina to say, “Right. I’ll see y’all in a bit then, D?” 

“Sounds perfect. We’ll be here!” She replies happily. 

You give her a quick smile before returning inside the house, ignoring the green eyes now watching your departing figure. 

You don’t know how, but you know for a fact that Ellie’d been staring at you ever since she heard you mention your freezing tits and unintentionally pushed your breasts together when you’d grabbed your exposed stomach. 

You walk through the front door and head straight for the bathroom that was just to the right. It wasn’t clear at the moment why you’d known that there was a half bath in this direction, but you were busy catching your breath to care. 

The bright, ugly fluorescents illuminating from the bathroom ceiling was sobering you up quickly. You wished you had gotten drunker. Trying to recall some breathing techniques an old therapist had taught you, your eyes fall on your appearance in the mirror. 

Not awful. I still look kind of hot. 

You reassure yourself that Ellie had only gotten a dim glimpse of you and hadn’t gotten a chance to notice how flushed you looked. 

Is it from the alcohol or was it from seeing her again so close after all these months? 

You could bail from the party now. Tell your friend group chat that you were heading home and text Dina separately, saying you weren’t feeling well. 

I can’t…

It takes you about five seconds to scrap that plan. You weren’t that type of friend to just bail, especially not when you’ve got drunk friends who were all girls surrounded by creeps or creep-adjacent frat boys. Plus, you’ve barely seen Dina and Jesse since the start of the school year. You could set aside your selfishness for one night and endure Ellie for just a little while. 

It’s okay. It’ll be like old times, except I ignore her the whole night. 

You hadn’t noticed that you were tearing up a little. Quickly but delicately, you wipe any tears threatening to fall, carefully avoiding smudging your eye makeup. 

I shouldn’t be letting her get to me tonight. 

You give yourself a half-hearted pep talk that works, to an extent. Using your fingers to brush out strands of hair off your sweaty forehead and straightening your skirt out, you convince yourself to emerge from the bathroom and hunt down the man who led you to face Ellie. 

You find him easily, not far away from the spot you had previously occupied from the wall. 

“Jess…” You begin as you approach the raven-haired boy. 

He was conversing with a frat boy, yours and your friends’ purses now either draped on his shoulder or slung around his chest. You would have giggled at this adorable image if you weren’t slightly ticked off by him. 

Jesse sees you approaching and calls your name, beckoning you towards him and his conversation partner. 

“Yo, tell Adam about Ellie’s dope ass joints that she laces with that lavender shit.” He points at you with his thumb. “Her idea, originally.” 

“Huh,” Adam says. “Kinda cool. Not something I’d do for myself, but I know she’s always got primo shit. Must be a nice touch with the strains she got.” 

You let out a noncommittal “mhm” and look back at Jesse, who has a sympathetic and apologetic smile on his face. 

“You irritate my life, Jess,” You say, leaving out the guy Adam from the conversation. 

“Sorry. It’s all out of love, my friend.” He replies, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Did you end up taking a hit?” 

You glare at him and he chuckles. 

“Thought I’d try. I’m sorry.” He says, sighing in defeat. “Dina tell you we’re going with you guys to Sterling’s after this?” 

“Is she coming along with us, Jess?” 

“We’re a codependent trio, so yes. Hey, that rhymed.” He snickers at his own joke. 

You groan. 

“I think I’ll head home instead.” 

“Come on, don’t be like that. Just hang out with me and Dina. We really miss you and we’ve barely seen you. You don’t have to talk to her.” 

“What happened to being a codependent trio?” You challenge. 

“Our marriage counselor said to work on boundaries,” Jesse says jokingly. 

You sigh. 

“You wanna go now, then?” You say, relenting. 

“Sure, I’m craving a strawberry milkshake real bad.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Let me go round up the girls. We’ll meet you outside?” You say, reaching for the purses. 

He waves you off and says, “I got it, girl. See you in a sec.” 

You give him a tentative smile and proceed to the basement of the frat house. 

After you successfully herded your friends, all of whom were at different levels of drunkenness, you ushered them upstairs to the living room and towards the front door. 

You had your arm around one of your more intoxicated friends, who all of a sudden exclaims in her drunken stupor, “Babe, we should come to this frat’s parties more often! We haven’t been since freshman year!” 

This stops you in your tracks, almost pulling your friend into you. 

Ahh, you thought. 

That’s why you’d been apprehensive about this house since arriving. This was the very same frat house where you’d met Ellie Williams for the first time. You met her the same night you met Jesse. You’d spent an hour or two conversing with her on a shabby couch in that same living room. The same house where those ocean green eyes pierced yours for the first time. The same house where you’d begun a “friendship” with someone who ultimately broke your heart. 

Uttering a quick apology to your friend, you nudge her forward to exit the house you had no desire to remain in. 

The twenty-minute journey from the frat to Sterling’s Diner did not seem long enough to you. Though you were longing to sit and rest your sore feet (you gave up a seat on the bus to one of your drunker friends who could barely stand upright), you preferred moving in a rather large group of friends where you could easily situate yourself away from Ellie if need be. You remained at the front of the group with your friend Astrid, arms linked as you trekked towards the bright lights of Sterling’s. 

You all sit at a long makeshift table formed by three smaller tables pushed together. Your anxiety ramps up when Ellie sits across and a seat to the right from you. Refraining from glancing her way would be much more difficult now that you were both in each other’s line of sight. 

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. 

Your group was embarrassingly loud, disrupting the peace of the few restaurant-goers nearby. You silently make plans to pardon yourself to the bathroom and hide out for a good 15 minutes before you make an excuse to go home to your apartment. 

Some of them are sober enough. As long as I check up to make sure they all get home safe… 

Deciding not to order anything to avoid waiting til the end to pay, you tell the server that you don’t need anything. But before they can walk away, Dina, who was sitting directly across from you, interjects. 

“Oh, she’ll just get a hot chocolate.” 

You look perplexed. 

“Dina, I don’t need anything.” 

“I know for a fact that your tits are freezing cold and you need to warm up. Besides, I know you love hot chocolate.” 

“D!” You whisper, embarrassed at the loud comment about your tits in front of the server. Dina snickers.  

You smile at Dina’s thoughtfulness, though you’re slightly annoyed that your escape plan was thwarted. In the corner of your eye, you think you see Ellie make a certain facial expression. But refusing to look her way, you can’t make a guess as to what it was. 

Not wanting to hold up the server’s time by arguing with Dina, you give a quick thank you and glare at your nosy friend. 

“You and Jesse are really competing to see who is my number one tormentor tonight.” 

Dina rolls her eyes playfully, “Why? What did our sweet Jesse do this time?” 

You have to catch yourself from blurting out Jesse’s earlier endeavour. Despite the commotion your friends were making, you’re certain that your voice is still within Ellie’s earshot. 

“Uh… ask him later.” You say, making eye contact with Jesse, who sat to Dina’s right. 

He smirks and you grimace. 

It feels like a lifetime waiting for everyone’s order to arrive. You sat awkwardly sandwiched between your friend Astrid to your right and Frat Guy Adam to your left. You stay quiet, not engaging in much talk. Dina and Astrid would attempt to pull you into their respective conversations, but you merely give slight nods and smiles and an occasional “mhmm” before going back to scrolling on your phone. 

After exhausting all forms of social media that no longer entertained you, you sigh and place your phone down on the table. 

Frat Guy Adam notices your movement and glances at your lockscreen. 

“Boyfriend?” He suddenly asks, nodding towards your phone. 

“What?” You say, startled. 

“Dude on your wallpaper. Where is he tonight?” 

Your lockscreen photo was of you hugging your favourite cousin, Rafael, and it was taken after your high school graduation. 

“Oh.” You gulp. “No, uh. Older cousin. No boyfriend.” 

“Really?” He says suddenly interested. He turns in his seat to face you better. 

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

“Not really the boyfriend type of girl…” You mutter. 

“Why not? You’re pretty hot. Can’t be that hard to get a date.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m a lesbian. Don’t need a boyfriend.” You say quietly but assertively. 

Adam tsks, saying, “Man, really? Didn’t clock you as a queer.” He adjusts in his seat to his original position, chatting instead with his friend on his left. 

You freeze. You knew Adam didn’t exactly intend for his words to be malicious, but you’ve heard enough comments like this in your life to understand its meaning. 

No one else around you could hear his comment over the buzz of conversation. Except… 

Your eyes meet Ellie’s, you having momentarily forgotten that this was what you were trying to avoid. It was strange to look into a familiar face and see an unfamiliar expression. 

What was she thinking? Is that concern on her face? No, that’s something else… 

You break her gaze, deciding that she’d only looked at you because you accidentally looked her way. She probably didn’t hear what had happened; and even if she did, it was none of her business. 

Before you can even decide whether or not to say anything to Adam, everyone’s orders come flooding out. Your hot chocolate was placed in front of you, and ignoring Ellie’s piercing green eyes, you just stare at the steam rising from your cup. 

You were growing more uncomfortable every second that passed. Being neither drunk nor high, you sit soberly in your seat and wish you hadn’t come out tonight in the first place. You suddenly feel tears welling up in your eyes, unsure if it was from your anxiety or Adam’s comments. 

Muttering a brief “be right back” to nobody in particular, you quickly make your way to the two-stall women’s restroom. You nearly collapse against the bathroom door once it closed behind you. Burying your face in your hands, you try not to break down into tears of frustration. 

After several moments, you pry yourself off the door and dare to look at yourself in the mirror. You look like a more tired, sweatier version of yourself from earlier in the night. Sighing, you grab a paper towel and dab it underneath your eye to remove any dripping eyeliner. 

You nearly jump and poke your eye when the bathroom door suddenly opens. You feel your throat close up and your heart clench once more. 

Ellie.

author’s notes:

this is the first ellie fanfic i’ve written and posted on here so be kind pretty please but feedback is very much welcome! i actually have more than one chapter written out already shdjfjf but hopefully this does well and i’ll post the rest if people would like!

i plan on making this a kind of long series, so i hope people will like that sgdjfjf (sorry, i know i should just post and not apologize and look for validation, but i haven’t written in a while!)

@lonelyfooryouonly asked me on my main to be tagged when i finally start posting my own fics on here, so here bby ty for the push! can’t wait for the next chapter of selfish to come out hehe

[ophanum]

' MISS CONNECTIONS ! - Niragi Suguru

ft. sub yandere! Niragi Suguru x f! insecure! reader

synopsis : You have seen him talking with another girl, so unsuspected and he's so chill with her. You saw this scenario not only once but twice. Now he's banging on your door.

tags & tw/cw: Slight OOC, angst.

❝A rib cage breaks in many ways... I'm told the best way to do it is take the heart out, is take the heart out...❞ — Miss Connections by The Keystones

It was her.

"Bunny," he called out, a name that used to send shivers down your spine, now dripping with a sickening sweetness.

The crowd blurred, a sea of faces except for one. There he was, the black hair a beacon. But it wasn't him that stole the air from your lungs.

His smile, the one that used to be yours, was plastered on her face too. It felt like a theft, a violation. As her smile mirrored his, a crack formed in your heart, widening with each passing second. The warmth you'd built around your emotions crumbled, replaced by a hollowness that echoed in your chest.

Tears pricked your eyes, blurring the scene further. You wished, with a desperation you hadn't felt in years, that he could see the wreckage he'd caused. The love you'd poured into him, now a shattered reflection staring back.

A ghost of a smile played on your lips, a bitter parody of amusement. You didn't need to stay here, a spectator in your own heartbreak. With a final, resolute turn, you walked away, leaving the shattered pieces behind.

"Hey babe," he chirped, pushing open the door. His adoring gaze swept the room before landing on you. Your back was turned, but he didn't miss the way you stiffened at his arrival. His grin, wide and boyish, seemed at odds with the way he swayed towards you, arms outstretched. Despite it, they landed softly on your hips, pulling you closer.

You remained unresponsive, a statue in his embrace.

"Just wait," he murmured, nuzzling his chin against your shoulder and squeezing tighter. "There's another game we can play, right? You and me? What do you say?"

"Sure," you replied, your voice flat. "I'll play."

Niragi, usually oblivious, caught the undercurrent in your tone. Maybe it wasn't your best day. He forced a smile, trying to inject some lightness into the air, even if it clashed with his usual bravado.

"Perfect! How about we head to my room?"

Silence stretched, thick and heavy. Finally, you spoke.

"No. Actually, I don't think I'm in the mood."

His eyebrows shot up. "Hey, what's wrong?"

A humorless chuckle escaped your lips. It sputtered out before fully forming, like a deflated balloon. Though you remained, the lightness had vanished from your laughter.

"Just not feeling it, Niragi," you sighed. "Honestly, sleep sounds amazing right now."

The clink of metal echoed as you dropped your utensils, the clatter a stark contrast to the quiet simmering on the stove. You turned and walked away, leaving Niragi rooted to the spot, his hand reaching out as if to grab your arm, then retracting just as quickly.

"Okay then," he mumbled as you reached the doorway. "Sweet dreams, babe."

The door shut with a soft click, your reply lost in the silence.

That's how things had been. Maybe a little childish, you thought. But the tone of his voice, laced with a vulnerability that resurfaces ever since you two admit each to one's feelings, sent your mind spiraling. A flicker, a spark – not broken, but…dented.

Liar. The word echoed in the empty space where your laughter once resided.

You love him more than you can handle. It's a suffocating weight, this affection, a burden your heart wasn't built to carry.

Love, in its purest form, terrifies you.

A tear welled at the corner of your eye, threatening to spill. But not this time. No, please, not today. Not when you're already teetering on the edge. Sleep, blessed sleep, became your only solace, a refuge from the storm brewing within.

Then came the next day. And with it, the sight that ripped the fragile peace you'd cobbled together. There he was, again, with her.

Why? What twisted game was this?

Jealousy, ever the venomous serpent, coiled itself around you, its icy grip climbing from your toes to your very core. It squeezed, injecting its poison into your veins, turning your thoughts to ash. Your fingers clenched, knuckles white. The world blurred with a haze of hurt and anger.

But then, a flicker of something else. A ghost of a smile played on your lips, your eyes drooping half-closed. The raw shock morphed into a mask of weary acceptance.

"Maybe..." you whispered, voice barely audible, "maybe they are better suited..." You squeezed your eyes shut, a strangled sob catching in your throat. "I can't compete with that..."

Defeated, you turned to leave, each step heavy with the weight of unspoken hurt. But just as you were about to slip back into the shadows, a hand clamped down on your arm, halting your retreat.

"What were you mumbling about, babe?" Niragi asked, his voice laced with concern.

You turned your head slowly, meeting his gaze with a wary caution. A flicker of movement behind him caught your eye – the woman he'd been with, now engrossed in conversation with someone else. His eyes, however, held a different story, a story you could almost decipher from the worry etched within them. He must've caught a word or two of your whispered defeat.

A smile, fragile and uncertain, touched your lips. In those depths you saw reflected the memories you shared, the very foundation of your love for him. And you knew, with a pang of truth, that his love for you brimmed over, a constant overflowing cup. Yet, even a cup overflowing with red wine can be refilled. He was the one who'd take his last breath for you, you knew that.

So why this sudden doubt, this crippling fear? Because love, you understood with a bitter clarity, was a fickle thing. And you, you were weak. You couldn't hold out forever, no matter how much it tore you apart.

Even for him?

But wasn't this for him, too? This agonizing self-preservation? A selfish act, a mantra echoing in your head – selfish, selfish, selfish. But what other choice did you have? Did you..?

"Are you okay?" Niragi's voice, laced with genuine concern, snapped you back to the present. You looked at him, the weight of your unspoken turmoil a heavy burden in your chest.

Your eyes snapped open, the daze momentarily forgotten. You forced a closed-eye smile, hoping it masked the turmoil within.

"Hey! Didn't see you there. What's up?"

Niragi wasn't fooled. Something was terribly wrong. "Y/n," he pressed, his voice firm. "Talk to me. There's something bothering you..."

You let out a shaky breath, a sliver of your exhaustion finally reaching the surface. Your eyelids fluttered shut, revealing the dark circles beneath. "Just...tired, Niragi. All these games are catching up, I guess."

You started to walk away, seeking solace in the quiet corners of the room. But Niragi's hand clamped onto your arm before you could disappear.

"Let me help," he pleaded. "Babe, I hate seeing you like this. I want to fix it."

A sigh escaped your lips, heavy with unspoken words. "Maybe later, Niragi. I just need some space."

You retreated once more, leaving him standing there with a furrow in his brow.

How many times? How many walls had you built, only to have him break them down with his unwavering concern? It had happened just yesterday, hadn't it? And the week before that? A month?

Now here he was, practically begging on the doorstep. Knees scraping against the floor, knuckles rapping a frantic rhythm against the wood.

"Y/n, please..." his voice choked with emotion. "Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me, so I can hold you again. I just want things to go back to how they were..."

An hour had passed, measured by the deepening purple of his knees and the puffy red of his eyes. Yet, he persisted. You, in a way, had molded him into this new Niragi. A man in control, seeking validation through love, not violence. Rid of the bloodlust, the madness, the insecurity. You'd sculpted him into something better.

Perhaps that's why he hadn't just barged in yet. But the raw desperation in his voice hinted at the calamity simmering just beneath the surface, barely contained.

The weight of his debt was heavy – his life, his future, all tethered to her. But if this was the end, then so be it. He'd unleash the monster he kept caged, just to keep her by his side.

Yet, a question gnawed at him, a relentless echo in his mind. Why? Why was this happening?

Just then, the click of the lock sent a jolt of hope through him. He lifted his chin, a desperate plea mirrored in his puppy-dog eyes that twisted something in your gut. He sank to the floor, clinging to your leg.

"Please," he rasped, the word a desperate plea through hiccups. "Please, just tell me what's wrong..."

"Come inside, Niragi," you sighed, leading him into the room.

You settled on the bed, the air thick with unspoken tension. Niragi remained standing, a storm brewing in his unstable gaze. He craved answers, and he craved them now, even if it meant forcing them from your clenched fists. Even if it meant laying waste to everyone around him for your sake.

"So?" he finally barked, his voice tight.

Silence stretched between you, your eyes refusing to meet his. He searched your face, desperate for any explanation.

A groan escaped your lips as you buried your face in your hands. "It's me, Niragi," you confessed, a wave of misery washing over you. "I'm not strong enough for this."

"No, you're not weak!" His laugh, a harsh, hollow sound, sent shivers down your spine. Unhinged, desperate, teetering on the edge. "You're the strongest person I know, stronger than me even!"

"That's not what I meant," you clarified, your voice barely a whisper.

His gaze locked onto yours, a frantic plea replacing the desperation. Like a cracked glass, he seemed to hold onto the last vestiges of control, preventing the torrent of emotions from spilling over.

"I don't think I can do this anymore," you whispered, the words heavy with defeat.

"What?" The single word broke free, laced with disbelief.

"Find someone else, Niragi," you choked out, tears stinging your eyes. "I don't deserve you."

A tremor ran through him, a crack splitting wide within. The dam holding back the monster was on the verge of breaking.

"Wait!" he cried, scrambling to his knees before you. He cupped your face in his trembling hands, his grip gentle yet firm. "Why? What happened? I...I don't understand! Y/N, please, please, tell me..."

The dam within you finally broke. Your lips quivered, and a tremor ran through your body as the raw vulnerability of his touch cracked the carefully constructed facade. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your hands limp in his grasp.

"I...I got jealous," you confessed, the words choked out on a sob.

Niragi, overwhelmed with his own emotional turmoil, could only listen intently, his hold tightening slightly with every shaky word you spoke.

"I know you didn't mean anything by it," you continued, voice thick with despair, "but it hurt so much, Niragi. So, so much. I felt like I couldn't take it anymore. I'm such a terrible girlfriend..."

"No! It was me!" he roared, desperate to absolve you of any blame. "There's nothing to apologize for! I'm the one who glanced over, like an idiot! It wasn't anything, I swear! I'm so sorry, Y/n, so sorry! I'll never do it again, I promise! You're the only one I see, my love, the only one I'LL EVER SEE!"

You shook your head, the memory of that single glance, a mere hairline crack in your relationship, amplifying into a gaping chasm in your own mind. This was your weakness, your flaw, laid bare.

After the torrent of emotions, an exhausted silence descended. You took a shuddering breath, a tired smile flickering on your lips.

"No, Niragi," you said softly, your voice drained. "Don't you see? Can't you see how weak I am? How flawed?"

"No, they're not flaws! They're not!" he cried, his voice thick with choked sobs as he cupped your cheeks. "They're not... how can I make you understand that?"

You shook your head again, the movement barely there. "There's no need to explain anymore, Niragi. I won't listen. It's...irritating, isn't it?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over his sobs and the muffled thumps of his fist hitting the bed beside your leg. "I'm not trying to blame you...it's just the way things are. Can't we accept it? Fate practically screaming at us. Let's not try to ruin it all."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT FATE!" he roared, his voice raw with desperation. "I don't care about anything at all! I ONLY WANT YOU, Y/N! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST GIVE YOURSELF TO ME?"

His words hung heavy in the air, a desperate plea laced with a terrifying undercurrent. He was at the end of his rope, teetering on the edge, willing to become the monster he held at bay, all for a chance to keep you.

At this point, his hair stuck to his face in damp strands. His sobs had slowed to ragged hitches, his eyes red and puffy. He hiccuped, clinging to you like a lost child. And amidst the wreckage, your heart, if it even existed anymore, shattered into a million pieces.

You'd questioned its existence for a while now. Was there even a flicker of sympathy left within you, for him or yourself? You'd cried yourself dry days ago, the tears a testament to your own pathetic state.

"I don't know how to fix this, Niragi," you whispered, the words a hollow echo in the room. "I wish I did."

"I would never," he hiccuped, wiping his face with a wet sleeve. He slumped down, laying his cheek on your lap like a defeated puppy. "I would never do it again, Y/n. Put me on a leash, tie me to a chair, lock me in a dungeon with starving dogs – losing you would be the death of me."

His voice dropped to a near whisper, his eyes losing their spark. "Don't...don't make me a grave."

Your lips quivered. Maybe you were the monster. Not the monstrous being Niragi conjured in his mind, but perhaps the architect of this pain. Maybe you were the one inflicting the hurt. And the thought of it repeating… you tilted your head down. It would repeat, wouldn't it?

"Niragi, it hurts so much," you choked out, the words thick with despair. "Why does it have to be this way?"

"Y-You're asking me?" he offered, a ghost of a smile flickering through his hiccups, only to melt back into a frown.

You cupped his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Cuddle with me?"

2.4k words...

[trendywaifus]

↳ i have dreams that lives in my nightmares!

everyone described the ruthless freddy krueger to be a vengeful spirit seen as a disfigured man. one night after falling asleep, you were finally able to come face to face with the urban legend.

↳ featuring, dream demon! kafka

—cw, fem! sub! reader, oral sex (fem! reader receiving), fingering (fem receiving), dub–con, mentions of scars, not proofread

after falling victim to slumber, you found yourself what it looks like to be in an empty museum full of fog. “ a. .museum? “ you questioned, anxiety gradually swelling in the pits of your stomach. like the fog, the atmosphere was thick with ominous silence. you walked down the large hallways blindly, catching glimpses of bizarre paintings and artifacts displayed along the walls. there was a particular painting of a spider seemingly stuck in the midst of its own web.

“ whoever made this museum has actual issues. “

breathy laughter echoes through the walls of the empty museum. “ oh really? you wound me, i happen to put this together myself. “ the voice drawls before humming a familiar tune. wait, was that summer and winter? you were unsure of the direction from where the voice is coming from. but as each moment passed, her humming got louder and louder. it felt like she was in your head, luring you in a hypnotic trance. you were starting to get a bit dizzy.

but then, a horrid sound of metal scratches against a harsh surface. “ oh, fuck. i think i should just get on my knees and start praying. “ you muttered as the steady sound of heels clanked across the tile floor ahead of you. a tall silhouette comes into view through the fog. but what made your heart nearly burst out of your chest was the shadows of her stretched arms disproportionately reached further along the walls as if they were wings.

“ actually, never mind! i should start running! “ you quickly turned around to make a run for it but her voice stops you.

“ stay. “

on her command, your body stops itself in its tracks. no matter how hard you struggled, you couldn’t even take a step forward. immediately after, a delicate hand runs up your back and rests on your shoulder; you shivered. “ good girl. as much as i enjoy the game cat and mouse, i wanna finally see that pretty face of yours up close and personal first. “ she purrs in your ear before walking in front of your frozen body to see your face.

“ holy. .” you were memorized by the tall beauty towering over you. beautiful lilac eyes, long, silky purple tresses stopping below her breasts, red lips curled up in a deceivingly warm smile; she was out of this world (figuratively and literally!). no alleged burn marks etched to her skin, instead it was creamy and flawless. she adorned a white, long sleeve collar shirt, black dress pants, and heels. you were ripped away from your admiring when a long, sharp metal claw gently runs along your jaw, careful not to tear skin.

“ mmh, it’s such a shame a little dove like yourself got caught into my web. “

“ a-and it’s such a shame that i’ve never gotten to meet such a beautiful woman like you until now.“ you blurted out.

a genuine look of surprise flashed on her pale features before she lets out a soft laugh. “ well, i didn’t expect you to be quite the charmer, little dove. i’ve been watching you for quite some time. “

you give her a confused look. “ but why me? “ her smile stretches wider with mischievousness, she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “ i will say this, human lust and desire are known to be so strong that the brain translates them into the most interesting fantasies which are called— “

“ w-wet dreams. .“ you stuttered, heat rising into your cheeks. is she implying that the only reason she was watching you was because of your wet dreams? you don’t know if you should be embarrassed or weirded out. the woman laughs out of no where, “ you should be more so embarrassed, darling. you have quite the wildest dreams that even i was taken back from. but to answer your question, hardly. i’m really here for you. “

your brows furrow with confusion.” did you just read my mind? “ she teasingly smile at you, bending down a bit to lean closer to your face. you swallowed thickly. “ yes. anyways, how about this, “ she draws closer to your face until hers lips are nearly touching yours. “ let me have some fun with you and i’ll let you go. you wouldn’t mind that since this is one of your fantasies, no? “

fuck, why did she have to see my dreams? you thought, shyly adverting your gaze down at the floor. amused, she lifts your chin up with a gloved finger; forcing you to return eye contact with her. your knees nearly turned jelly under her roguish eyes. “ and, if. .i don’t, you’ll kill me right? “ you questioned, voice barely under a whisper.

she hums thoughtfully, “ well, I would say yes but since it’s you, i’d rather not. you caught my attention after all, sweetheart. “ she presses her red lips against yours, running her tongue over your bottom lip. her hands which were now strangely bare, roams your body delicately as if you were one of her most prized artifacts. a shiver runs down your spine as her cool hand slips under your shirt and massages the warm skin under it with her thumb. you couldn’t help but feel excitement course through you.

“ now, what will it be? i can practically sense your desire for me. “ she chuckles against your lips. bewitched by her kisses and honeyed–filled voice, you whisper, “ y-yes, as long as you let me go after.” thrilled by your answer, she smiles wider, this time, revealing her fangs which prods your lips. “ atta girl. oh! before we continue, despite what humans call me, i prefer “kafka.” i’m afraid the original freddie had to put down his hat. “

you narrowed your gaze. ‘freddie?’ as in the urban legend freddy krueger? who could of possibly thought she was freddy? or even his replacement? where did he even go? “ and why are you telling me this? “

with a flick of her wrist, the setting changes and you’re now back in your bedroom. you assume it was conjured up by kafka. “ because i don’t want you screaming out the wrong name of course. “

before you can react, you land butt first on the mattress. kafka situates herself on the bed and between your legs. her long slender fingers reaches for the waistband of your pajamas and slides them down your legs and off your feet. she licks her lips at the damp spot staining your panties. “ i haven’t properly touched you yet and you’re already excited.”

too flustered to respond to her lewd comment, you let her pull off your cotton panties; giving her a delicious view of your dripping pussy. she runs a digit along your folds, coating it with your juices. “ so wet.” kafka purrs, delving her face further between your legs. her warm tongue presses flat against your clit before enclosing her lips around it. “ sh-shit. .! “ you gasped, curling your toes in pleasure as she starts sucking on the senstive bud. her index finger teases your entrance before sliding inside.

your cunt squeezes around her as if it was welcoming her. now knuckles—deep inside, she drags her long, slender finger in and out of your hole. all you could do was squirm and buckle your hips, hoping the graceful entity can relieve the aching knot in your abdomen. kafka retracts her mouth away from your bundle of nerves with a soft pop. she smirks, “ i haven’t added in another finger and yet you’re squirming as if i’m using three on you. here then.” you felt two finger enter your core, filling and stretching you out even further.

you let out a loud moan, throwing your head back in ecstasy as her well—manicured nails rubs against the spongy spot of your walls. “ r-right there, kafka! please! “ you babbled, throwing her a desperate look. kafka says nothing and grants your wish, curling her fingers right where you want it while her thumb idly plays with your clit in circular motions; driving you right over the edge. “ fuck, fuck, i’m gonna—“

to your utter disappointment, she pulls back, fingers covered in your slick. kafka laughs at the look of betrayal and confusion on your cute face. “ sorry, darling. i just had to do it. “ you forgot you were messing around with a being who loves to trick and torment people for her own pleasure. still in a daze, you tried your best to glare at her. “ don’t give me that look, pretty thing. lay on your back for me, i promise i won’t do it again. “

hesitant, you laid down on your back. kafka gently spreads your legs open for more space before going back in. she places her hands on your inner thighs, holding them apart. kafka observes how your slick pools from your pussy. delighted by the sight, she drawls, “ i’m just itching to get a taste darling. “

you stifle back a moanful groan as her tongue licks down along your folds in broad strokes. kafka emits a satisfied hum from tasting your essence on her tongue. she enters straight in, brushing her wet muscle down your gummy walls. “ god, kafka. .!” you moaned, feeling her tongue skillfully pump into your aching cunt. she pushes her face closer, nudging the bundle of nerves with her nose.

arching your back in pleasure, the familiar tension in your stomach returns as she continues to fuck you with her tongue. “ sh-shit, it’s coming back! “ you tried to enclose your thighs around her head but she easily keeps them in place. kafka firmly squeezes at the supple flesh, silently urging you to cum. “ c-cumming, kafka! “ you nearly screamed, your walls pulsates around her tongue and not a moment after, moderate amounts of cum dribbles out of your hole and in her mouth.

“ you taste wonderful, pretty thing. better than any wine i’ve once tasted. “ kafka greedily licks your slick and cum from her slightly–smudged red lips. you panted heavily, legs jelly from your climax. she sits upright to unbutton her collar shirt, your eyes widens in astonishment as she does; the skin that was previously covered was littered with scars and horrific markings. it was as if she has gone through extreme torture at some point in time. an unreadable expression settles on her face as she gauges your reaction.

smiling blankly, kafka expected you to scream or attempt to scramble away in terror but you didn’t. perhaps you were too fatigued to even move. but, searching in your tired eyes, she sees a sliver of pity in them. it was something she hadn’t seen in a very long time because all she was use to was fear, anger, and many other negative emotions she strikes into her victims. “ d-don’t give me that look, you know i can’t run away even if i tried, kafka. b-besides, ” you continued, averting your gaze away from her eyes awkwardly, “ e-even someone like you was once caught in someone else’s web so i can’t say i’m horrified of that. “

kafka smiles once more but this time, laced with amusement. she tosses her unbuttoned shirt to the side and dips down to whisper in your ear. her hot breath fans against your skin. “ keep being this interesting and cute, darling and i’ll appear in every dream of yours until you wish you no longer have the ability to sleep. “

[sturniololoco]

hiii <3 could you do a little sister fic where she plays hockey and gets into a fight with a player from the other team? Just go from there ig 😭

Mad

Warnings: blood, cussing, crying, etc.

A/N: Kinda a true story, but mine happened in a soccer game lol, it's also rly short and prob rly bad lol

SLS/N’s POV

I know I’m not supposed to let my hair fall out of my helmet, especially when you're playing in a girl's hockey league, but my low bun fell out and I was in the middle of a game so I couldn’t fix it.

The score was tied and there wasn’t much time left on the clock, but I was skating faster than I ever had.

I hear the puck being sent my way by one of my brothers, and I quickly snatch it before I can get bodied by the girl on the other team.

Just as I reached my stick back to slap the puck into the goal, I felt myself fly back, head first, a burning sensation on my scalp.

I was being pulled back by my hair, getting whipped around to the point wear I fell and skidded into the wall.

The girl looked at me with a smirk before skating off, slowly.

I hated the way she looked at me, it made my blood boil and my heart race.

Ignoring the pain in my hip, I stood, then skated as fast as I could to her.

Next thing I know, I'm fully tackling her onto the ice, and that's all I was gonna do until she punched me,

Right in the damn nose.

Blood poured down my front and all over the girl, until it eventually reached the ice. My eyes were watering like crazy, but I ignored the pain and focused my enraged thoughts on the girl I was practically straddling.

Just as I was about to pound her into the ice, I felt arms around my torso, pulling me off.

I fought against them, wanting to get back at the girl who ruined my game, but I stopped once I heard the ref.

"You need to stop or your team will be disqualified."

I quickly shoved the person's arms off of me and then skated to the penalty box.

I got inside and slammed my halpet against the glass, feeling all my anger and the pain in my face hit me at once.

-

Before I knew it, the buzzer was going off, right after the other team scored the winning point.

I don't bother going into the locker room. Instead, I go to the lobby of the complex, taking my gear off while I wait with my brothers.

As people passed me on their way out, they gave me dirty looks, especially the moms on the other team.

I just sat there, blood pooling out of my face, glaring right back at them.

Until the girl that started this walked passed.

Next thing I know, I'm behind her, ripping her braided ponytail.

Just as she was about to retaliate, Nick, my brother, got between us while I felt Matt and Chris hold my arms back, keeping me from tearing this girl to shreds.

They bring me back to the bench and sit me down as Nick apologizes to the girl's mom.

As he turns around, he looks at me, a disappointed look on his face.

I slouch against the wall behind me, crossing my arms over my chest as I roll my eyes, not making eye contact with any of my brothers.

-

We silently got to the car, me aggressively chucking my gear in the back before climbing in the backseat and leaning my head against the car window.

"SLS/N, we need to stop the blood," Nick says, handing me a t-shirt that he found in the back of the car.

I take it from him and wipe my nose, feeling the bruising start to form underneath the red coating my face.

As Matt begins to drive, I feel the emotion and pain well up in my eyes so fast, I don't have time to stop it.

As I cried, I let out a frustrated groan, hitting my fist into my thigh, as it was the only thing in the car to punch.

"Don't do that! I know you're mad, but don't hurt yourself." Nick says, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards him.

As I lean into his side, he takes the t-shirt from my hand, helping me wipe most of the blood from my face.

"These are just angry tears," I say to the car.

Matt laughs and reaches back behind his seat, finding my leg, and then giving it a little pat.

"We need to find a way to get all that anger out of you kid, you got way too much of it." Chris sighs, shaking his head.

This makes the car laugh, and I even manage to smile through the pain in my face.

I was happy that they weren't mad at me.

-

"Matt!" I yell from my spot on the couch, head in Chris's lap.

"I need some ice, please!" I yell again.

I hear a plastic bag being opened, then the sound of the ice maker.

Matt comes in and hands me the bag of ice, now wrapped in a kitchen towel.

Chris quickly takes it from my hand and gently places it under my eye where most of the bruising was, holding it for me.

As Matt sits down by my feet, Nick comes in, making me sit up and take an Advil, and chug a bottle of water.

As soon as I'm done, I lay back down next to Chris, trying to get the dizziness out of my head.

Chris must have noticed me squeeze my eyes shut because he says,

"Try and fall asleep kiddo. I'll be right here when you wake up."

I almost pass out as his words, and get comfy and smuggling into his side.

He holds the ice on my face and strokes my hair till I fall asleep, happy that my brothers aren't mad at me.

-

Kinda bad I'm sorry! If it wasn't what you were asking for, send in a more specific request and I can re-do it!

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq @idkhowtosleep

[janeyseymour]

Dancing On My Own (Tiesto Remix)- pt 2

After some pushback from the first, I knew I had to write a second part, and quick. this should placate most of you.

Summary: the aftermath.

Part 1.

WC: 2.25k

tags: @lakita-fisher @weeeeeeeeee3 @lilsmeaux @@morgana-larkin

You somehow make it home unscathed- you could barely see as you drove through your tears, your breakup playlist on full blast. You guess you’re officially done. With Melissa already having a new woman, you wonder just how much you ever even meant to her.

As soon as you’re pulling into your spot, the waterworks hit in full- as if they weren’t already. You rip off the jersey and hat that you wore out, not caring where they land as you throw them into your front room. You had bought a bottle of wine to share with the redhead that you fell madly in love with to celebrate getting back together, and hopefully a big win, but now that seems wrong to drink on your own. You reach for the vodka instead.

You don’t show to school the next day, calling out claiming that you’re sick. And you are. Your heart hurts more than you ever thought possible, and your hangover is killer. You spend the morning laying in bed, eyes rimmed red. The redness won’t be going away any time soon.

Melissa saunters into the school, happy that she hasn’t seen your car in the parking lot, and doing a little dance because her team won. She’s also quite happy that she was able to rebound with last night- even if she didn’t particularly enjoy the woman that she spent her time with. She much rather would’ve spent time with you, but… you were… are a Cowboys fan.

“Someone’s happy,” Barbara chuckles. She thinks she knows why. “Did you have a good night at the game?”

“I did!” Melissa grins. “I took this girl I met at the bar, and-”

The kindergarten teacher’s face drops. “What?”

“I wasn’t going to let the ticket I had for Y/N go to waste,” the redhead shrugs. “So I asked Lena if she wanted to go with me to heckle the Cowgirls fans.”

“Oh no,” Barbara whispers. “Oh, no. no. no.”

“What? I figured after Y/N and I, I should get myself back out there.”

“No,” Barbara states again with fire. “Oh good god.”

“What?! What, Barb?”

“I- I have to go make a call,” the kindergarten teacher grabs her coffee mug and heads out quickly. She closes her classroom door as she dials your number.

Your phone starts ringing far too loudly, and you groan. You glance at it and see Barbara’s contact picture light up.

“Hello?” you groan into the phone, just barely sitting up. Your voice is rough, both from the tears and the fact that you haven’t spoken since last night.

“Sweetheart,” your coworker whispers to you. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Home,” you grumble. “Sick.”

The kindergarten teacher frowns. “Sick? Lovesick?”

“Heartbroken,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly. “She was there with someone else. You knew, didn’t you?”

“Y/N, dear,” Barb sighs quietly. “If I had known that she was talking to someone else, I never would’ve told you to go for it. In fact, when she came in dancing today I thought it was because the two of you got back together.”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’. “She had her tongue down someone else’s throat.”

“Honey, I am so sorry,” the woman tells you softly.

“I’m not mad at you,” you tell her genuinely. “You didn’t do anything wrong but try to help me.”

“Can I do anything else for you?” Barbara asks.

You sigh. “Just… when I come back to work tomorrow, pretend I was sick? I don’t feel like having Janine jump down my throat.”

“I can do that,” the kindergarten teacher says softly. “And please know that even though the two of you aren’t involved anymore, we are all still on your side. You’re still a part of our-”

“It’s okay,” you sigh sadly. “I know that you’re all Melissa’s friends, and I don’t want to put any of you in an awkward position having to pick sides. She’s been here longer; it’s all hers.”

“Sweetheart,” Barbara breathes.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay, Barb. Thank you for trying to help me,” you mumble before hanging up.

By the time you hang up with her, the students will begin trickling in, so Barbara doesn’t have time to go speak with Melissa about the situation at hand.

But at lunch, Barbara simply grabs her lunch and picks up the redhead’s that is already out on the table.

“Barb,” Melissa gasps.

“My room. Now,” is all the kindergarten teacher has to say to get her friend to follow her out of the staff room and down the hall, head hung like a child being escorted to the principal’s office.

When they get there, Barbara sets down their lunches at her desk and pulls a chair up for Melissa.

“Barb, c’mon,” your… ex-girlfriend groans. “What gives?”

“What the hell were you doing out with another woman?”

The second grade teacher immediately gets defensive. “Y/N and I-”

“Y/N went to the game last night… dressed in Eagles gear and ready to cheer for your team because she loves you,” the older teacher says sternly. “And you threw it in her face that you were done with her and already moved on.”

“She- what?”

“She spent close to a thousand dollars on sports gear last week to try to win you back. She wore Phillies gear, she wore Flyers apparel, she wore a Sixers sweatshirt, she even wore a jersey from the Union, and on Friday, she wore Kelly green to show you that she’s in Philly now.”

“Didn’t show up in a Hurts or Kelce jersey though,” Melissa rolls her eyes. 

“Because she was saving that for last night when she was going to win you back with the ticket that she managed to get next to you!”

Melissa’s face drops. “She- fuck.”

“She’s not sick. She’s heartbroken right now.”

The redhead bites her lip. “I fucked up takin’ Lena, didn’t I?”

Barbara nods. “She was crying when I called, and she told me she was heartbroken to see you with some other girl’s tongue down your throat.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” the kindergarten teacher nods. “That word.”

Melissa breathes out heavily. “Do you…” she shakes her head. “She’s still a Cowboys fan.”

“Melissa Ann, you love her. She loves you. She’s perfect aside from that one fact, and when she tried explaining herself to you at school, you wouldn’t let her get a word out. Hear her out, and even then… if she does love the Cowboys, are you really going to let something as trivial as a sports team rivalry come between you and the one person that you love?”

“I…” the redhead bites her lip. “Do you think I have a chance at winning her back?”

At that, the kindergarten teacher shrugs. “You’ll never know if you don’t try… although, I would end things with this new woman you were making out with last night.”

The end of the day could not come sooner for the second grade teacher. She’s debated texting you or calling you, but she feels this is something that she has to do in person.

So as soon as she’s finished for the day, she runs out. She leaves her lunch bag in the staff room, doesn’t wait for her work wife; she just books it. She’s tearing out of the school parking lot in the direction of your apartment complex.

The entire drive over, she’s preparing what she’s going to say to you, but once she’s standing on the door mat that you have sitting outside your front door, it all leaves her brain. She knocks a few times before stepping back.

Who the hell is at your door? Could it be Barbara checking on you? Or maybe she said something to Janine or Jacob, and they’re here to make sure that you’re okay? With a groan, you sit up and stand from the couch. You’ve been sitting there for so long wallowing in your self pity that you leave an indent in the cushions. You check the peephole, and… why is Melissa standing at your door?

You open the door, not caring how you look right now.

The sight of you hurts her heart. Your hair is messily tied up, you haven’t changed out of your pajamas, your eyes are still rimmed red… you just look so heartbroken right now.

“What? Come to yell at me some more?” you try sound angry, but it just comes out pathetic.

“No,” she says softly. “Hun, I’m-”

“Here to break up with me?” you sigh. “You made it pretty clear we were done.”

“Can I come in?” she asks quietly. The woman sounds so unlike herself.

You shrug and leave the door open as you walk away. She follows you in. “I’m here to say I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever,” you sigh as you curl back into your mountain of blankets. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be civil the rest of the school year, I’ll leave you and your friends alone, and then I’ll find another school in the area to work at.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, it’s a little hard to work with your ex-girlfriend,” you sigh. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind seeing yourself out.”

“Y/N,” Melissa says so softly, and she has her eyes trained on you. They’re filled with sadness. “I don’t want to break up.”

“I thought we already did,” you spit out. “And if we didn’t, I know you had your tongue down another woman’s throat last night anyway, so if you don’t break up with me, I’ll do it for you. Then you can make me the bad guy when you-”

“Barb told me what you were trying to do,” the redhead admits softly.

“If you would’ve just listened to me, you would know that I didn’t necessarily have a choice in who I rooted for when it came to football. My father, who is my idol and best friend so don’t you dare say a single bad thing about him, loves the Cowboys. He insisted on buying me the Prescott jersey despite the fact that I didn’t want him spending that money on me to begin with.”

“I should’ve known with you growing up near Dallas,” she sighs.

“But I’m here now,” you continue. “And once I talked to him and he told me that if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. So I did. I bought all of this Philly stuff, bought a ticket to the game and showed up in a hat and Hurts jersey, only to see you with someone else. So… it’ doesn’t matter.”

“Hun, I never wanted her.”

“Well, you got her.”

“The whole time, I was wishing it was you.”

You rub your temples.

“Barb told me she helped you,” the second grade teacher admits. “If I had known… I would’ve been-”

“Any time they brought me up, you shut them down,” you fire out. “You wouldn’t let me speak to you at all.”

“You avoided me too!”

“I was trying to give you space, and when I did try to talk to you, you shut me down and told me you weren’t going to date a Cowgirl.”

“How can I fix this?” Melissa asks as she comes to sit down next to you. “I’ll do- I’ll do anything.”

“I thought you weren’t going to date a Cowgirl,” you taunt her. “And you have your new girl now.”

“She isn’t my girl,” the redhead tells you sternly. “You’re my girl. She’s some random girl I picked up at a bar while I was trying to distract myself from missing you. The whole time I was with her, I wished it was you- I didn’t even sleep with her. She was throwing herself at me, but I couldn’t.”

“So what are you saying?”

“And then today when you didn’t show up to school, Barbara told me what you did and how she helped you… she talked some sense into me; asked me if I was really going to let a stupid sports rivalry get in the way of loving the one person I truly adore. The answer is no. I was… an idiot. An absolute idiot.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “You were.”

“So… I’m here, begging you to take me back. Please, Y/N,” Melissa tears up. “Please. Please don’t walk away.”

“Melissa, you hurt me more than you know,” you whisper.

“And I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you,” she promises you. “Please.”

You take a deep breath for huffing it out. Secretly, you were hoping she would come back to you. And the opportunity is right here in front of you. “It’s… it’s going to take a bit for me to fully forgive you.”

“And I understand that entirely. I was a real jackass. I’ll make it up to you however I can.” She pulls you into her arms and kisses your temple gently. “However I can.”

That ‘however’ is by having her take you to another Eagles game- with the entire Abbott crew. You wear your Hurts jersey, hanging off of her the entire night, and you cheer for your new team.

The other ‘however’ is by getting her to take you to a Phillies RedOctober game at Lincoln Financial field. When they play their celebratory song after clinching a spot in the World Series as NLC champions, you know that you’re no longer dancing on your own (tiesto remix). You have Melissa by your side. 

[lovelytsunoda]

uptown girl // mickey "fanboy" garcia

soft kisses shared in the bar light after a game of pool

she would do anything for her nerd boy. except maybe meet his friends in a crowded bar with a pool table where she can make a fool of herself in front of all of her boyfriend's friends. it's a good thing that mickey is a good teacher.

pairing: mickey "fanboy" garcia x female! reader

author's note: he had like four lines and i was prepared to go to war for this man.

the hard deck hummed with activity as she parked her car, flicking off the manual headlights before glancing at her phone, which was pinned to it's magnetic holder on the dashboard.

it wasn't too late to text mickey and tell him something had come up, was it?

as she was thinking it, as if mickey could hear her, her phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a text message from her beloved.

mickey: hey sweet girl, are you almost here? everyone is so excited to meet you!

she sighed, switching the music off and cutting the engine, sitting in the dark car and waiting for the heated seat to lose its warmth. her relationship with mickey garcia was still very new.

they had only been together for a few months, having met at an eighties rock-and-glow dance night. she was standing by the stage, dressed in skinny jeans and a white t-shirt that glowed fluorescent in the blacklight, an old-timey glass sprite bottle in her hands as she sang bonnie tyler at the top of her lungs. he was the best dancer there, with a goofy personality that captivated her from the moment he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a slow dance to 'heaven in your eyes'.

deciding to rip the band-aid off, she grabbed her tote bag from the passenger seat and slipped out of the car, sea breeze cutting deep and sending a chill down her spine as she walked up the weathered steps to fightertown's navy bar.

her sweet boy was impossible to miss, his smile lighting up the whole bar as he stood next to the pool table, his short-sleeved button shirt untucked from his crisp blue jeans.

as nervous as she was, it was hard not to smile when she saw him, watching as he leaned over the table to delicately knock a striped ball into one of the pockets in the corner of the table. after the shot, he looked up, and infectious grin breaking out over his face when he saw her.

"hey, pretty girl." he beamed, passing his pool cue to a woman in a black turtleneck and jeans before he sidestepped the table and pulled his lover into an embrace. "i'm glad you came."

"hi, mickey." she smiled, kissing him softly. "i've missed you."

"are you ready to meet everyone? or do you want something to eat first? i can order you a plate of onion rings-"

she laughed softly, taking his hand in hers. she loved how attentive and sweet he was, always trying to dote on her whenever he could. when they were together, he hated letting her pay for things, even if it meant dipping into his not-enormous navy salary "mickey, it's okay. i have time to meet your friends before i order."

with a soft kiss to the side of her head, mickey looped his arm around her shoulders and they headed towards the pool table. "guys, this is y/n. my girlfriend."

she underestimated how much her heart would swell at hearing mickey say those words. hearing someone declare to the world that they had chosen her.

"y/n, this is natasha, jake, robert, bradley, hallie and javy."

"hello!" she squeaked, waving at the group. "nice to finally meet you guys, mickey has told me so much about you guys."

robert laughed, reaching out to shake her hand. "and mickey has told us even more about you. fanboy loves to talk."

she never though she'd meet someone who talked as much as she did until she met mickey. they could talk for hours, about anything and everything. when they were together, she suspected it would drive the people around them insane. except she didn't know how his friends would react, what they would think of her.

they made small talk for a little, while some of the guys and natasha all took their turns at the pool table. it was team game, although the teams seemed to be a little unbalanced in terms of skill level. mickey had pulled her into his lap, gently rubbing circles on the skin underneath her peasant top.

jake leaned over the table, his pool cue hitting the white ball, white harmlessly dusted the side of the ball he was aiming for, plunking down in the basket.

"god damn it, hangman!" javy groaned

natasha laughed, high-fiving bradley. "sucks to suck, bagman!"

mickey shifted in his chair, hands running up her sides. "our turn, pretty girl. do you want to try?"

she turned back to him, a small glint of panic in her eyes as she took his hand in hers. "i'm not very good."

bradley snorted, taking a sip of his budweiser. "we're miles ahead of hangman, you could break the table and we'd still be ahead of them."

"go on." mickey encouraged, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder blade. "i'll guide you."

she stood up, still clutching his hand in hers as she moved towards the pool table. hallie passed her a pool cue, and she stood nervously by the table until mickey came up behind her. his hands were warm through her jeans, his back against hers as he guided her into the correct position.

"you got this, sweet girl." he said quietly, kissing the side of her head gently, his hands over hers on the cue. "it's a straight shot into the basket."

mickey stepped back, his hands still on her waist as she took the shot, hitting with just enough force for the white ball to send the orange solid ball into the basket.

one fell swoop.

mickey's side of the pool table started to cheer, and her cheeks flushed pink as she turned around to wrap her arms around mickey, hiding her face from the crowd.

"great job, my darling girl." mickey laughed, kissing her softly. "are you sure you haven't played pool before."

"my grandfather had a table in his basement." she said sheepishly, leaning the cue against the table to she could slip her hands into mickey's back pockets. "but i haven't played a proper game since I was twelve. he sold the table when they sold the house."

"maybe you'll have to play more often." mickey said, leaning in to kiss her softly. "i love you."

"i love you too."

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @thatsdemko @lorarri @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre @httpiastri

[redrose10]

Here is Chapter 17! There’s going to be one more little chapter that I’ll post in a day or two that is pretty much just pure fluff. But chapter 17 basically closes out this story. Thank you to everyone that has read and stuck with me through this. I know the story got a little all over the place at times, but this is the first multi chapter fic I’ve ever written and I never planned for it to go this far to be honest. I appreciate all of the comments and messages as always!

I posted a teaser for a new story that I’ll start releasing in about a week or so and I might also have this idea for a little Drabble series type thing about a relationship between Yoongi and his co-worker (Y/N) and how their relationship blossoms while he’s fulfilling his military requirements through his civil service assignment.

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 2,496

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag list: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad @drrookie

Your eyes kept switching between Yoongi, Mia, and Suri. Jin already looked like he’d rather be anywhere else besides sitting at this table right now. Yoongi hadn’t taken his eyes off of Mia and you weren’t sure who was enjoying it more, her or Suri. Finally after what seemed like hours Yoongi walked forward taking a seat across from Mia and you followed close behind taking a seat next to him.

Mia reached across to grab his hand and to your surprise he let her. A small blush crept across his cheeks. “Yoongles how have you been? You’re looking really good.”, she spoke making you roll your eyes at the nickname.

Your attention was pulled elsewhere when Suri suddenly called your name, “Y/N, I doubt Yoongi ever told you, but him and Mia were engaged. Unfortunately it didn’t work out. They make such a cute couple though, don’t you think?” You glared at Suri while you tried to figure out her game. She wants Yoongi so bad, but here she is gloating about what a great couple Mia and him were.

“Yoongles we should get together sometime. You know maybe get dinner or something. Then we can go back to your place and I can do that thing for you that I know you like.”, she said with a smirk running her fingers up and down his hand. Yoongi still hadn’t said anything since the two of you walked in the door. You’re not sure what came over you, but you reached over ripping his hand out of her reach and pulling it down onto your lap, “No thank you. He has a WIFE who’s more than willing to do anything and everything that he likes and more so he doesn’t need some cheating, selfish, gold digger like yourself in his life.” Everyone at the table looked at you with wide eyes and jaws dropped surprised by your little outburst. For the first time Yoongi acknowledged you by giving your hand a little squeeze.

Mia chuckled, “Oh Y/N, he really brainwashed you didn’t he? Do you think he actually cares about you let alone loves you? I heard all about it from Suri. I’m not surprised really. I mean he’s a successful, handsome, wealthy businessman and you are a poor orphan girl who will never be anything other than that. You were nothing more than a good deal to him and his family. A way to boost his image and in turn make him more money. He told me that himself.” You gasped looking to Yoongi for any sign that she was lying. When his expression didn’t change you shoved his hand out of your lap with force. Mia faked a shocked expression, “You mean you didn’t tell her Yoongi? You didn’t tell her about our little meet up a few weeks ago where you told me all about how much you couldn’t stand her and how you regretted this whole marriage?” The entire time this conversation had been taking place Suri has been off to the side reveling in watching it all. She knew bringing Mia back into the mix would be the final nail in the coffin that she needed to get you out of their life. Yoongi could never resist his first love.

You could feel the tears begin to form. You didn’t want to cry and show weakness in front of these people, but it seemed like your brain wasn’t going to cooperate. Abruptly standing up you tried to walk off towards the exit, but Yoongi grabbed your wrist begging you to stop, “Y/N please let me explain. It’s not what you think.”

The sound of the slap was probably heard through the entire building. Yoongi winced placing a hand on his reddened cheek. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again Yoongi.”, you whispered before trying to run off only to stop and turn to Suri instead realizing you had some unfinished business.

You wanted to get in her face, but decided to keep your distance reminding yourself that she was pregnant.

“Are you happy now Suri? Is this what you wanted? Look how many lives you’ve ruined and for what? You think you’re so smart and powerful, but in reality you’re an idiot who abuses others for your own personal benefit. You’ll get what’s coming to you one day.”

She stood there smiling at you for a few moments before finally speaking, “Y/N, I told you that I always get what I want and I meant it. I don’t care who or what I have to destroy to do it. I’ve had Yoongi wrapped around my finger for years and I wasn’t going to allow you to take that from me.”

“You’ve blackmailed him for years.”, you cut her off with the correction.

“So fucking what? I blackmailed him. I’ve blackmailed a lot of people. I’ve blackmailed Yoongi, Namjoon, my own brother, and countless other people and I don’t give a fuck. They all deserved it. That’s how I get shit done. Unlike you I won’t stop until I achieve my goal. I don’t just back down and let others walk all over me.”

She was somewhat out of breath after her rant was over with. You were about to respond when a very loud knock at the door stopped you.

“Good grief, it’s about time.”, Jin mumbled as he got up to let them in. Within seconds two detectives came walking over followed by two more police officers handcuffs already out.

One of the officers walked forward towards Suri, “Suri Cho, you are under arrest for the extortion of Yoongi Min, Namjoon Kim, and Han Cho. You are also being charged with making threats against Y/N Min and Mia Park. We don’t want to have to put you in handcuffs in your current condition so please come with us peacefully.”

“W-What? No absolutely not! I haven’t done anything wrong.”, she said backing herself against the wall.

“Miss Cho, please come with us.”, the officer said inching closer.

“I have not done anything wrong. You have no proof of any of these charges you are putting against me.”

From the corner of the room Jin cleared his throat. “Actually, here are transcripts of texts, voicemails, and emails between Suri and Namjoon as well as the paternity test confirming the identity of her unborn child. Here is the recording that we ourselves obtained of her confessing to blackmailing Yoongi for years.”, he said handing over everything that he had pulled out of his bag. “You guys also have the live feed that you just obtained with the help of Mia.”, Jin reminded them while zipping up his bag before throwing Suri a smug look.

“What?!”, she shouted looking over at the woman still sitting across from you.

“Did you have something to do with this? I asked you for help! How could you betray me like this?”, Suri shouted.

Mia walked over to one of the detectives and gave his cheek a kiss before turning her attention back to Suri with a smirk. She opened up her blouse slightly to reveal a microphone, “Maybe next time you want help breaking the law don’t contact and threaten someone who happens to be married to one of the top detectives in the country.”

Suri looked stunned.

“Miss Cho, it’s time to come with us.”, one of the officers repeated. Suri looked at all of you with tears of anger in her eyes before following after the officers. You felt a sudden sense of relief watching her walk out of your home.

“Well that was eventful. Thank you everyone for your hard work in orchestrating this. I didn’t realize I was surrounded by so many actors. Yoongi and Y/N I’ll be in contact as you will have to be summoned for questioning. Mia, weird seeing you again. Don’t cheat on your husband, he seems nice. Stay classy as always.”, Jin spoke before grabbing his belongings and also heading out the door.

Yoongi walked over to you wrapping an arm around your waist as you both looked over at Mia hoping she’d get the hint. Awkwardly she shuffled her feet while rubbing her arm.

“So I’m glad everything worked out. I was really worried she’d loose it. I had been ignoring her for a while thinking she’d eventually give up on this whole crazy idea, but when she came to me saying she was pregnant and that she was going to claim it wasn’t consensual I knew I had to reach out to you guys. I think she realized everything was starting to fall apart and she was getting desperate and even more delusional.”

“Uh yeah that’s why we decided to get the police involved. Originally we didn’t want to, but the longer this went on and the crazier she got we knew that simply just threatening her wouldn’t do anything.”, Yoongi responded.

“I just feel bad for the baby. That’s the only reason I didn’t want her to get arrested like this.”, you sighed.

Mia smiled, “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll work something out for her. Maybe house arrest or something. I’ll have my husband talk to the prosecutor.”

The air was filled with awkward silence until Mia finally started putting on her coat and heading to the door with you and Yoongi following behind to see her out.

“Maybe we could hang out some time. Go on a double date or something now that we’ve grown up and moved past what happened between us.”, she chuckled looking at Yoongi. You had a hard time reading his expression, but it looked like you could still detect a hint of admiration in his eyes as he looked at his past love. Your heart filled with sadness or maybe jealousy, you weren’t really sure.

“Listen Mia, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for us with this Suri situation and I really do thank you. But having you in my life isn’t good for me any more. I’ve spent years hating you and hating myself because of what you did to me. I tried my hardest to make Y/N hate me because I didn’t think I could ever love someone again the way I loved you. I have learned to forgive you though and I’ve finally gotten to a point where I feel that it’s okay to let go of that part of my life and move on while looking forward to the future with Y/N. So we are going to politely decline the invite and while I wish you nothing but happiness for the rest of your life, respectfully please get out of my house and I hope we never have to see each other again.”

You looked on with a shocked expression waiting for her to blow up, but instead she smiled and nodded, “I understand. Glad I could help with this though. Best of luck to you both.”

After the door closed behind her you and Yoongi walked into the kitchen so he could grab a drink. He still seemed a little shaken up. While he was sipping on his water you walked up behind and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I love you.”, you mumbled into his back.

He chuckled before turning around to face you, “I love you too Y/N.” He leaned in to give you a kiss and you reciprocated the action. He winced a little before lightly rubbing his cheek, “I know I agreed to the slap to make it more believable, but I really didn’t think you were going to hit me as hard as you could like that.”

“I know I’m sorry. I got a little carried away, but I’ve been wanting to do that for a while. Plus Mia got me a little more heated than I thought she would when she was saying all that stuff.”, you giggled.

“Yeah something tells me that she wasn’t completely acting.”

You smiled, “Yeah well something tells me I wasn’t completely acting when I called her a selfish, cheating, gold digger either.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer and get a better look at his cheek, “Come here, I’ll kiss it better.”,

He smirked, “Well if that’s the case I have a few other places that are a little sore too.”

Rolling your eyes you grabbed his hand and pulled him down towards the bedroom.

After he was sat down on the bed you straddled his lap and began placing kisses along his jaw and neck, but you quickly noticed he seemed distracted. Pulling away you followed his line of sight and saw that he was staring at his dresser.

“Everything okay?”, you asked getting off of him and taking a seat on the bed instead.

He shook his head before walking over to the dresser grabbing a familiar red bottle. He popped off the top and the room immediately filled with the very familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla. Something that you had grown to despise. A scent that at one point would make you feel sick to your stomach. Until one day it didn’t and instead it started to smell like the comfort it was advertised as.

Yoongi stared down at the bottle in his hands before he laughed, “Mia first bought me this cologne as a gift for Christmas many years ago. I was never a huge fan of it, but she would always go on and on about how much she loved it. I continued to buy it just to make her happy. Then even after we broke up I still bought it because I didn’t want to let that part of me go. I guess I thought if I kept using this cologne I could trick myself into thinking it never happened and keep that part of my life with me forever.”

He paused for a moment before scoffing to himself, “Looking back that was pretty stupid. The cologne had nothing to do with it and I was just using it to cover up my true emotions that I didn’t want to face.”

You walked over resting your head on his shoulder and began rubbing his back, “It’s not stupid Yoongi. You did what you had to do to cope. You can keep it or you can throw it away and we’ll get you something different. It’s up to you.”

He stared into your eyes before nodding and walking into the bathroom and not long after you heard a loud clank from the glass hitting the bottom of the trash can. A few seconds later he emerged with a gummy smile looking like he felt lighter and happier than he had in a while.

He walked over and placed his hands on your hips before turning you around and falling back onto the bed pulling you on top of him,

“Now Mrs. Min, where were we?”

[fazedlight]

“IT’S OKAY, SPIKE!” Kara shouted, flying alongside the panicked dragon. “Easy, easy boy- OOF.”

An unwitting thrash of the dragon’s tail sideswept Kara in the air, causing her to tumble as he continued to rip ahead. 

“Supergirl,” came Lena’s voice in her ear. “Are you still there?”

“Yep,” Kara said, halting her fall to the Earth, surging back up into the sky and heading again towards the dragon. “Have you figured out why he’s upset yet?”

“We detected a disruption in spacetime. If he freaked out during Crisis last year, he may be sensitive to-”

“Another crisis?!” Kara said, nearly caught up to the dragon.

“Unlikely, Brainy is investigating the cause.”

Kara didn’t respond as she finally flanked Spike’s side, shouting words at him in an attempt to soothe - not that it was working all that well.

“Have you tried beef jerky?” came an amused voice behind her.

Kara startled, rotating in the air to see another figure, flying just a few yards away. In the dark sky, she could make out a… woman, a white supersuit, a red cape, short-cropped light hair. It was mid-turn that Kara realized there was a small bag hurling in her direction. Kara instinctively reached out to grab it, seeing Original Beef Jerky on the label. 

“Who are you?” Kara shouted, glancing back up.

“You don’t recognize me?” the stranger smirked.

“Should I?”

“My name,” the blonde said, “Is Kara Zor-L.”

-----------

It didn’t take long for Spike to calm down after that. A couple of bites of jerky, and the dragon amiably landed on the ground, seeming to physically shake off his nerves before shrinking back down into a peaceful iguana. Alana was relieved to have her pet back.

Kara eyed the new blonde warily, but this other Kara didn’t seem concerned. “I’ve been dealing with a brainwashed Legion member,” the other woman explained. “He threw me out of my universe. I need to get back there.”

“So the multiverse is back,” Lena said over comms, listening on to Kara’s conversation with… Kara. “Bring her to the Tower, Brainy and I can try to help her.”

Kara looked up. “Alright… Kara,” she said awkwardly-

“My Earth name is Karen,” the blonde responded.

Kara nodded. Thank Rao, this’ll be less confusing. “Alright, Karen. Let’s get you back to the team.”

-----------

“So you’re… Power Girl,” Lena said, eyeing the much older kryptonian. “And you were able to grow up on Krypton?”

“It’s a long story,” Karen said with a shrug. “When do you think you’ll be able to send me back to my Earth?”

“Just a few hours,” Lena said. “Brainy’s making some equipment modifications.”

“Looking forward to getting home,” Karen said. “Cat will be annoyed.”

“Wow,” Kara said with a laugh. “Different timelines, but somehow we both work for Cat Grant.”

Karen tilted her head towards Kara as her brow crinkled - Lena couldn’t help but think of how strangely familiar her expression was. “I suppose she would be a little old for you,” Karen mulled.

“Old?” Kara asked.

Karen smirked. “Cat is my wife.”

“Oh,” Kara squeaked, as Lena's heart skipped a beat.

-----------

“That’s not suspicious to the press at all?” Lena said. “You and Cat living on opposite sides of the country?”

Conversation had wandered - from Karen’s Starrware Labs and her development of environmental nanobot technology, to her superhero antics as Power Girl, to her marriage. Lena hadn’t missed how Kara’s cheeks turned bright pink with the mention of Karen’s love life, and how she took every excuse to duck out of the room to check on Brainy’s progress. 

But now Kara was back, and pacing, and nervous - and somehow that only seemed to amuse Karen.

“We’re good at privacy,” Karen said. “Though I’m opening a branch of Starrware Labs in National City, so soon this’ll be less of a pain in the ass anyway. It’ll be nice to be able to attend Carter’s baseball games without suspicion.”

“Carter?” Lena asked. “I guess Cat was previously married on your Earth, too.”

“The media went nuts when we started dating,” Karen smirked. “America’s Power Bisexuals. Ironic headlines, considering they don’t know I’m Power Girl.”

“You’re bi,” Lena asked curiously, noting again how Kara seemed flushed.

Karen shrugged. “Bi, pan, whatever. Sexuality in Krypton’s society was considered fluid.”

“What?” Kara said, confusion overriding her new shyness. “That sounds like Daxam, not Krypton.”

“What’s Daxam?” Karen asked.

Kara stared at Karen for a moment. “I’m… going to check on Brainy again,” she said, making her way out the room. 

Lena curiously watched after her, before turning back to Karen - who seemed to be far too amused at what was transpiring. Lena shifted in her seat, another curiosity coming to mind. “What’s my life like on your Earth?”

Karen shrugged. “You’re a powerhouse. Married to another tech genius, some Jack guy. It’s rumored you’re in an open relationship, you spend a lot of time with the Obsidian CEO.”

“Oh,” Lena said.

“Is something going on between you two?” Karen asked Lena, gesturing at where Kara went through to the door.

“No.”

“Do you want something to be going on?”

Lena was going to rebuff, the words of course not ready to fall from her lips. But something stopped her. Maybe the familiar crinkle in the stranger’s brow, maybe the fact that the blonde was imminently about to leave the universe entirely. “I don’t think that’s a possibility,” Lena said regretfully.

“Why not?”

Lena shrugged. “Kara’s straight in this world.”

“Are you sure?” Karen said, her eyes seeming to dance with the almost familiar smile, last observed when Kara convinced Lena to buy an entire tub of ice cream. Lena couldn’t help but laugh, as much as the reality of the situation made her heart ache. 

But before she could formulate a response, they could hear the patter of footsteps coming back. “It’s ready,” Kara said, nodding in Karen’s direction. “Brainy says you can go home.”

-----------

Karen departed for her Earth - and normalcy resumed, as Lena and Kara crashed on Lena’s couch, consuming their late dinner from Chinese takeout containers.

Lena looked over at the blonde, who seemed… still unusually quiet, seemingly pensive. “Is it odd?” Lena asked gently. “Hearing about a different Krypton?”

“Yeah,” Kara said, pulling her legs up onto the couch. “It makes me wonder…”

“Wonder?”

“She’s just… very confident,” Kara murmured, staring down at her chopsticks.

“She’s older,” Lena shrugged. “Seen more.”

“I think even if I were a decade or two older, Cat would still eat me alive,” Kara smiled.

“Maybe,” Lena laughed.

A pause. “We’re… similar in other ways,” Kara said softly.

“Oh?” Lena said, her heart skipping a beat.

Kara shifted awkwardly, finally glancing up at Lena. “I overheard something she said. Her talking about you and Jack. And… Andrea.”

“It wasn’t that surprising,” Lena replied slowly, her heart pattering as she realized that Kara might be… trying to assess the situation. Which gave her the bravery to be a bit more forthcoming. “Andrea and I were together in high school.”

“Oh,” Kara said. And for a moment, silence fell again.

“Lena-” “Kara-”

The two looked up, each noting that the other had a blush crawling across her face, each feeling the vibration of possibility flowing between them. “Could we…” Kara started. “Could we be more?”

“If you want us to be,” Lena said, a small smile growing on her face.

Kara’s eyes widened, before a grin crossed her own face. “I’d like that,” she said.

-----------

A month later, a small portal temporarily opened up in Karen Starr’s office. She didn’t notice at the time - she was far too busy making out with her wife - but she did find the note left behind: 

“You were right. Thank you. - LL”

[wlwsoccerfics]

Mama Sveni to the rescue(Svenja HuthxReader)

(This is a platonic relationship)

warnings: Heartbreak, sadness, migraine

You just broke up with your girlfriend of almost 3 years. which is a really big deal. Especially cause she was your first ever relationship. What makes it even worse was that she broke up with you right on your 19th birthday. So now your Birthday was probably something that was gonna have a sour aftertaste for a little while.

Your Family, friends and teammates were there when you got your heart broken ripped into a Million shreds. Cause your now ex brought her Side piece, now her new girlfriend with her to your party. Toxic af.

This was bad enough but it also affected the way you played. Your performance on the field was lacking your usual power and everyone could see it.

VfL Wolfsburg(your Team) was playing against Werder Bremen and you are usually amazing with assisiting forwards so your teammates could score. Cause that was your Job as a midfielder after all. But you missed out on so many opportunities today that you questioned your own ability to be part of this team, the Team that offered you a place to play professionally in at the sweet age of 17. It would have been a year earlier but you had a knee injury that kept you from your debut. Anyways after the Game which you thankfully still managed to win 1-0 you quickly took a shower and wanted to leave, already unlocking your car. You felt like crying. Still. The breakup was two weeks ago and you still lost tears over this.

"kiddo? do you have a minute?" You heared someone say. When you turn around you see it's Svenja. The teammom.

"Mama Sveni, yes..."you answered, biting down on your bottom lip. Sveni really was the Mom of the Team. probably because she was actually a mom. You trust her so much that she even has a key to your flat in case of emergency.

"let's take a small walk." she told you and offered you her arm. which you gladly took.

"you want to talk about my performance today, right?" you stated. she smiled a little, it was clear that she was concerned though.

"right now i would rather know what i can do to help. because seeing you so sad and down does hurt my heart. And not just mine by the way. The whole team is there for you if you let us!" She explained.

You stayed quiet for a moment and quickly wiped away a tear from the corner of your right eye.

"i don't know what to do! She was my first everything! I don't know how to function without her! It feels like someone ripped my heart out, stomped on it and then put it back into my chest, causing me some more pain!" You tried to describe how it felt. Which wasn't so easy.

"getting your heart broken sucks, especially if it was your first relationship. but kiddo try to let this go! Just scream it out, burn some pictures of her, throw away things that remind you of her! Listen to some sad songs and have some ice cream!" Sveni suggested and you look at her biting down on your bottom lip. "If you don't let this go it's gonna eat you alive!" She told you and you know she was right. "I will give that a try!" You promised her. You Walk in silence before you reach your Car again. She told you that you can always call her. Which you thanked her for. Making your way to your place after that.

You just wanted to burn some pictures of your ex, listen to breakup songs and cry. But instead you reach your Front door only to realize someone was already inside. Two women were talking to one another. The one voice you recognize right away. It was the voice of your ex. So the other one probably belonged to her knew girl. — you made a mental note to take the spare key away from your ex.

"what are you doing here?" You asked her.

"y/n...i am just grabbing some of my things that i left here." She replied, her voice calm, there was no hint of being embarrassed that you caught her at your place.

You chuckle humorlessly when you see that she grabbed alot of the Hoodies, watches & some other things, all things you paid for. Now that you think about it, you realize the last few months of your relationship with her have been filled with her asking for things and you buying them for her.

"you used me to buy you stuff! This wasn't about love. At least not in the end!" You stated. Before she could respond her girlfriend was speaking up.

"took you quite long to figure that out! We have been together for almost a year now and you never suspected anything!" She answered. Your ex just looked at you. Quiet. Not saying a word. Which did confirm that this was in fact the truth.

You managed not to cry and sound somewhat confident. "Get Out of my home now!" You told them. Staring down your ex. "And leave the Key!" You added.

Your ex and her girlfriend left, but only cause your ex basically dragged her not so new girl out of there.

As soon as they were gone and you were alone you broke down crying again. You were angry at yourself for being so blinded by love that you didn't see what was going on. You were also hurt by what had just happened. Lying on the couch, face in the pillow and you did what Sveni told you. You screamed into it through the tears. And ended up falling asleep after a while.

The next evening...

You didn't show up to practice in the morning and didn't reply to any of the messages and didn't answer any of the Phone calls. Not from your Team or your older sister Klara, who was playing for FC Bayern munich. Klara had a short call with Sveni cause she knew how close you were with her. That all was enough for Svenja to use her key to check in you. You were still on the couch in the clothes you wore after the game yesterday, not being able to move much cause you got a migraine from all the screaming and crying and your medication was in the bathroom too far away for you. "Kiddo?" she asked and walked over to you. the sight of you broke her heart. "hey, what's wrong? you didn't show up to practice so i was worried. Then Klara called which freaked me out even more." She admitted. "She used me..." You explained and then told her what had happened in the last 24 hours. there were no tears left to cry though. you also didn't have the Energy to do anything. the pain of your migraine was overwhelming. Sveni could tell so she grabbed you some water from the kitchen and your medication. Which you thanked her for. Quickly taking one of the pills with some water. Svenja really was like an Angel on earth. Being there when you needed her the most.

Svenja called Klara to let her know what was going on so she wouldn't have to worry any longer & so you could rest some more. Both of them agreed that your ex and her girlfriend sure both deserved a place in hell for how they treated you.

She made you some dinner so you have some real food when you woke up and left you a note that said she would pick you up in the morning for practice.

The next day she did pick you up and the two of you explained things to Tommy . Your Coach. And you apologized for not showing up the day before.

Things have gotten better from there & you started becoming your usual self again. Hanging out with the Team more. Spending extra time with a certain tall blonde named Jule. Growing closer with her. Was this the beginning of something new?

(thoughts? Should i do a Part two? What are your wishes for other stories?)

[emmyrosee]

Rintaro watches Kaiya, and nine times out of ten, he's the most through, loving husband and father you could ever ask for. He’s mindful of what he’s doing with his daughter, but still leaves her a small amount of independence that lets her little six year old mind thrive.

But one out of ten, he crumbles. This time, is the one.

Rintaro’s finally splurged money on this game to play with osamu and akagi, and both of them are finally on, so he happily sets up Kaiya next to him while he plays, giving her coloring books and toys to make do with quietly.

When she gets bored with that, she curls up on Rintaro’s lap, tiny hands playing with his hair and hitting him with pillows.

Then, finally, after too much normal… she speaks.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, angelface?"

"Wanna be like you," she says, climbing off the couch and rocking back and forth on her heels. “Wanna look like you daddy…” Rintaro flashes a smile and turns to her, pausing the game and turning to her, leaning forwards to kiss her tiny nose akin to yours.

“Kaiya, you can be anything you want to be,” he says, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “Mommy and the twins are gonna be home soon, so let’s surprise her, okay?”

“Okay daddy!” She squeals excitedly, her feet toddling back down the hall to the playroom. Rintaro chuckles and shakes his head as he unpauses his game, shooting the enemies and doing a terrible job of censoring when he loses.

He barely processes when you get home, only snapping him out of his zone when you kiss his head and he jumps a foot in the air.

“Hey momma,” he says, pausing his game and stretching. “How was the pediatrician?”

“Look dadda!” Sachiko says, showing him her arm which is covered by a my little pony bandaid.

Rintaro blows his eyes wide, “woah! My brave girl!” He reaches up to pinch her cheek playfully, which she giggles from. “How about you Sachie, you got one?”

“Ripped it off in the car,” you chuckle. “Where’s our other terrors?”

“Akito’s playing his games and Kaiya’s playing dress up,” he answers, flashing you a smile. “She wants to be like me.”

Your brows raise playfully, “oh she does, does she? Wants to be a pain in mommy’s butt?”

“Always,” he says, grinning.

You jostle the twins, “come on, let’s go check on sissy!”

“Otay mumma!”

“Yayyyy!”

Rintaro watches as you walk away with the tiny humans, shaking his head and turning back to his game with a smile, satisfied in his fatherly duties and he can’t wait to take pictures with his little mini-me, dressed in his clothes and-

“KAIYAAAA NAAAAAOOOO!”

You scream. Rin’s heart stops.

Immediately, your shriek rocks the house, making Rintaro absolutely leap off the couch, not even bothering to pause his game and making a dash up the stairs to meet you.

He sees the bathroom door open, his tiny twins watching in awe on the floor now while your hands cover your mouth in horror, and akito laughing into his fist having also been roused from his video games. At least he found this amusing.

When Rintaro pokes his head around the corner to see the action, his jaw slacks as his beautiful six year old, his tiny little mini-me and smart little stink-

Has officially cut her hair.

Short.

Just like his.

“Kaiya!” He begins, more in shock than a scold, “what did you do!”

“Wanna look like you daddy!” She cheers happily.

“THATS NOT WHAT I THOUGHT YOU MEANT!”

The two twins waddle into the room to play with the fallen hair from Kaiya’s head, gathering wads of it and trying to pass it to you.

Akito lays a hand on your shoulder, “Ma? You okay?”

Rintaro rubs a hand along your back, “babe…?”

“I leave you… with her… for FIVE. MINUTES!” You scream, and thankfully, it’s met with laughter from the three littlest children in the room. “What-! I don’t even-! When did-! RINTARO-“

“Hey hey, it’s alright!” He says easily, pulling you in for a hug, “it’s just hair baby, it’ll grow back!”

“SHE COULDVE GOTTEN HURT!”

“But she didn’t-“

“Don’t even start defending, Rintaro,” you snarl, and with fury you walk over to Kaiya and scoop her into your arms to inspect her.

Akito claps a hand on Rintaro’s back with a fresh, “good luck,” before turning on his heel to leave the bathroom and let his father be scolded. Rintaro sighs and moves to pick up the twins in his arms, watching you like a scolded child as you check her for injuries.

“I really didn’t know,” he says softly, planting a kiss to Sachie’s hair. “I just thought… she’d play dress up or something. Wear my jersey or something.”

You sigh and fist your hands tightly, “it’s got nothing to do with the actual hair cut, Rin,” you explain. “And you know I don’t care about leaving her for a bit to play video games. But she could’ve gotten so hurt! Where’d she even get scissors!”

Your teeth are gritted together roughly, so tight he wanted to massage your jaw to make it better.

But he’s positive if he touched you, you’d bite him.

“We were doing arts and crafts,” he answers quietly.

You take a deep inhale in through your nose, then slowly release it from your mouth, “come on Kaiya. Show mommy your crafts.” You bounce her slightly with a smile, “daddy’s gotta go stand in time out until he’s 40!”

She giggles while you two leave, leaving him with the twins playing with the collar of his shirt.

“Mumma mad?” Sachie asks.

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles.

“Dadda bad?” Sachiko asks.

Once again, he chuckles and plants a kiss to their heads, making them giggle and plop wet kisses on his cheeks, “ohhh yeah…

“He sure is, girls.”

——

Tagging 🥺🩷 @reverie-starlight @wolffmaiden @thoreeo @aliensknowmyillusions @tutuwusworld @lavishcherie @sassycheesecake @cheolattes @rrairey @dira333 @unknownspecies @fluffytriceratops

[rqgnarok]

Could you write about Jamie and the reader dating but one night when they’re out at a club or something the reader sees a fan kissing Jamie?!

Jamie elbows and pushes his way through the crowd, the music so loud he feels it in his teeth and the lights dark to set the mood of the club. It's been a while since he's gone out to places like this, but he just scored three goals against Tottenham and not celebrating with his mates and his girl seemed unfathomable.

His girl. His girl who's running away from him, who can't bear to be in the same room as him. Jamie's panic grows tenfold.

He catches up to her, calling her name, fighting the discomfort in his belly when she tries to shake off his grip, eyes watery. Trying to reach for her again, cradling her arms in his hands reminds him a little too much of his parent's fights, but he can't let her go. He can't let her leave thinking that-

"Love," he says desperately, close to tears himself. She only flinches at the nickname and Jamie hates it, hates this club, hates this entire night. He wishes they had gone home and avoided this whole damned thing. "Love, please, it's not what it-"

"Don't feed me a line, Jamie," she scoffs, still trying to shimmy away from his grip. "I know what I saw, just let me go-"

"I don't even know her," he tries desperately, the truth spilling out his mouth like a dam breaking. He's shouting over the music, surrounded by thousands of strangers who can't care less about his screaming match with his girlfriend. Still, someone's bound to recognize him sooner or later, and the last thing he wants is a picture of him kissing someone that isn't his girlfriend on the front page of every news site and Twitter. "She said she was a fan and was talking about the game and then she just climbed on top of me-"

"With all of your friends around?" she questions, tired, tired of him, Jamie realizes. He feels suddenly sick.

"I didn't know what to do," the whole thing had reminded him too much of Amsterdam, being 14 and lanky and under his father's duress to do something he didn't want. His girlfriend at the corner of his eye had him snapping out of it a little too late.

"Please, Angel, please tell me you believe me," he begs, and she loves enough to let him cup her face in his hands, touch their foreheads together. "I love you, okay? I love you, I would never do this to you, I love you-"

She shakes her head. Her tears are falling into Jamie's fingers.

"Let's go home," he says frantically. "Let's go home, let me explain, I promise this isn't what you think. Please."

"Let me go, Jamie," she whispers, and yet somehow Jamie hears it clear as bells amongst the noise. The words crack at his heart, rip him apart for him to pick up his pieces in the middle of the dance floor.

She grabs onto his hands only to gently take them off her face, squeezing once halfheartedly before dropping them. "Let me go, just let me go."

[twigg96]

Reader jealous of Carol plz !

👀 ohhh I love this idea @matilda4eve !!! I hope you like this fic!

Two Can Play That Game

Era: the Prison

POV: You

Warnings: Angst, Arguments, Yelling, Misunderstandings, Swearing, Fear of Abandonment, insecurity in relationships, resolving of issues

Summary: After Sophia’s death Daryl and Carol become nearly inseparable. They rely on each other for almost everything. And while you try your damnedest to make sense of it all, as their relationship progresses you begin to feel more and more insecure until you can’t hold it in anymore.

Ever since the farm when little Sophia came stumbling out of the barn like tomb, Daryl and Carol had been inseparable. She came to him for nearly everything. And he went to her for comfort. It was a bond none of the others including yourself could ever hope to understand. A mother ripped away from her daughter much to early. And a man willing to step in to the girl’s father’s shoes for a brief moment out of sheer kindness of the heart. Over time their relationship evolved past formality. Into friendship and the love that only two best friends could share.

But you simply couldn’t understand it. You tried. After Sophia you let the two have their space. After the farm you tried not to mind the nicknames Carol gave Daryl. When you first arrived at the prison you told yourself that when Daryl and Carol went on runs together it was better for the group. That even though Daryl and you made a good team you often got distracted and it made sense that he wanted to go with her. You did your damned best to ignore the psycho muttering of Rick about love lost and turned to Hershel for guidance who only gave you vague religious advice instead of the relationship advice you were hoping for. You even gave the two grace for how clingy they became once Daryl found Carol in the closet after thinking she was dead after the herd broke through the prison. When Merle came back you tried to ignore his vague but infuriatingly observant comments about the pair. You honestly tried not to spark fights if you could avoid them but sometimes the fire had already been lit and it was hard to avoid catching the whole thing aflame.

And so you sat in the courtyard of the prison. Taking a long drag of your cigarette you tried to calm yourself as you watched Daryl sharpen his arrows, Carol draped over his shoulder musing with his hair in such a way that would have been considered intimate had you and Daryl not been in a relationship since before the turn. And so you did what you did best. You tried to ignore it. But that white hot jealousy rose when Carol kissed Daryl’s temple and then his cheek a little too close to his lips. And oh… oh you had your suspicions about the kissing for a while. You had walked in on the two in what could be considered compromising positions before but they always explained it away. She was just leaning down to get something… He needed to go back and say good night… it made you feel so insecure and heartbroken. Standing in a huff you threw the butt of your cigarette to the ground and stomped it out ignoring the forlorn look Daryl gave you.

“I’m goin’ out.” You growled, stomping towards the gate. “W-What?” Daryl stammered standing up trying to follow but the glare you sent him instantly grounded him. “I said im goin’ out. I need a damned walk.” Daryl blinked at you cocking a brow. “Well. Let me get my gear and-“ He muttered pointing back to the prison with his thumb, but you were well past your breaking point. Rounding at him shook your head. “NO!” You screamed, storming up to face him, tears brimming your eyes even when you desperately wanted to seem strong. “Stay the hell here. Keep-“ you cut yourself off shaking your head to keep from outwardly sobbing. Daryl’s face fell, confusion and worry washing over him as he reached out to touch you, but for the first time in your relationship you pushed him away, turning away. “Like I said. I need a god damned walk.” You whispered. Daryl was glaring at you now. You were seriously starting to piss him off. “Well let me just come with ya!” He yelled walking along behind you.

Once again you shook your head, looking around you pointed to Merle. “Your brother promised me we’d go out today. So let’s go Merle!” You called motioning for Merle to follow. The elder Dixon turned from his place on the fence, covered in sweat, to see the commotion. Cocking a brow he walked over eyeing the situation warily. “What’s goin’ on?” He asked Daryl more than you, but you still answered. “You said you’d go out with me later. So let’s go. I’m ready. Let’s take a walk.” You huffed pacing anxiously in front of the gate. Merle was a little taken aback glancing from you to Daryl. He had said he would take you out for a good time… but he didn’t mean for a walk. He just wanted to piss Daryl off a little. But when he caught Carol standing farther up the hill the pieces started to click into place. Sighing deeply he let his face rest into his signature sleazy grin. “Alright, sugar. Where are we headed?” He asked, rounding you, wrapping his good arm around your waist, pulling you close to his sweaty form. Walking with you out the gates with only his knife arm and the weapons you had on you to keep you safe.

Once out of sight you peeled away from Merle tearing into every Walker in a 30 foot radius whether you had to or not. Merle stayed quiet for the most part. Whether it was out of curiosity or courtesy you had no idea. He simply puffed at a cigarette and watched you vigilantly from his seat on an old rotted stump. Once in a while he’d call out if you were going to be flanked. But for the most part he let you do what you had to. That is until the small herd moved in. You would have been fine. At least that’s what you told yourself. If you hadn’t used most of your energy stabbing the first five walkers more than they needed you could have taken them all down. But Merle’s panicked look made you second guess. Before you could register what was happening you were on your back, a strong hand having gripped the back of your shirt and yanked you out of danger. 6 shots was all it took to take them down but it also was all you had in your chamber. And you knew with the echoing of the shots through the air, that it wasn’t only the dead that would soon come looking for you both.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You screamed, scrambling to your feet. “Me?!” Merle blinked looking at you completely appalled. “Sugar,” he growled stepping up to you, grabbing your wrist. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you out here tryin’ ta get yerself killed?! Because that’s what I jest witnessed!” He yelled. You sneered at him fighting the sobs and the burning urge to scream at the top of your lungs. Maybe if you had more bullets you’d had attempted it. Maybe if you knew Daryl wasn’t tearing through the woods searching for you both you would have been more willing. But you didn’t want to be found. Not yet. And so you tore away from Merle with a small huff. “Just… fuck off.” You mumbled bending over to grab the knife you dropped. “Oh no…” Merle uttered through a strained laugh. “No. You don’t get to get pissed off at me for saving you, little one. That’s not how this works.” He hissed, grabbing you by the shoulder and pushing you up against a tree. “Yer gonna tell me what the hell is going on here because I feel like I’ve been extremely flexible with you. I’ve went along with your self destructive plan so far so the least I need is an explanation!” He growled.

Suddenly the tears you held back over the months, the feelings of abandonment and shame came crashing to the surface. Like a dam that was bound to break you let yourself sob, covering your face with filthy hands cried, heaving ugly sobs. Merle stared at you, his eyes wide as he pulled you close, rubbing your back, letting you rant about these messed up feelings you were having. You questioned yourself, questioned your sanity, and finally Daryl. You could feel Merle tense at your admission. And even though you backtracked and tried to make him see it like you did. Just a miscommunication, Merle still remained just as pissed. “Now you listen to me.” He whispered, pulling away slightly. “I’ve never known Daryl ta be a man ta ever mess around on anyone he’s been with… not that he’s ever been with many people before you but that doesn’t matter. He was normally the one ta be made a fool of. If Daryl is messing around…” he stayed silent for a moment but the anger and disappointment shone in eyes. “Well. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” He whispered. Kissing the top of your head he sighed when a branch broke to your right a large heard coming in. “Looks like we’re camping out tonight, sugar.” He teased, winking at you. Rolling your eyes you sighed walking deeper into the forest to find a place to bunk down for the night.

With the early morning light came the migration of the walkers. And as much as you and Merle enjoyed each other’s company you had to admit the little inlet of the large oak tree you both scrambled under for the night was less than comfortable. Crawling out first you accessed the area. No walkers you could see… nodding to Merle you both wiggled out, covered in mud and wood chips. It wasn’t a long walk back to the prison. Only an hour or two but the way you two talked made it feel like it only was a second.

Daryl was waiting for you at the gates, pacing inside like a tiger in a cage made much too small for him. You glanced to Merle, his arm firmly around your shoulders. As the gates swung open you felt him squeeze you gently. “Remember what I said. Talk to him. If yer gonna fight. Let it happen. Figure out what’s goin’ on and quit dancing around this shit.” He whispered into your hair. Letting his arm slide from your shoulders he let you go. “See ya inside.” He muttered, giving Daryl a sly wave as he passed by his brother. “The fuck was that all about?!” Daryl growled, watching Merle slink up the hill. “Daryl… we need to talk.” You whispered, looking to the ground shamefully. “Ya fuckin’ think?!” Daryl hissed practically seething. “Let’s go inside and then-“

“No!” Daryl screamed, grasping your shoulders. “Ya wanted to take a fuckin’ walk so god damned bad let’s take a damned walk!” He yelled, twisting you around and shoving you back into the dark forest.

Stumbling tiredly through the thicket you grasped helplessly at Daryl’s wrist as he held you firmly by the back of the neck. “Daryl…” you pleaded, tears staining your dirty cheeks. “Daryl, please stop hurting me.” With a shove you fell to your knees to the forest floor. Your boyfriend pacing the ground around you grasping fists full of his own hair. “Are you kidding me?” He bit out. It wasn't until then that you got a good look at him. He looked disheveled and exhausted, big black circles under his blue eyes highlighted them making them seem brighter than life. “Do you know how fucking God damned worried I was last night?” He breathed, still pacing. “Do you have any idea how panicked I was when I heard those shots?!” He yelled out stopping to spin on his heel glaring directly at you. “I searched all god damn night fer you and Merle! And then ya jest waltz back inta camp…” Daryl stops covering his face letting out a low growl as you venture standing up again. “Like… nothing happened. Jest like Carol said ya would.” He muttered, seeming to relax a little at the thought of the older woman.

But for you… hearing her name was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “God!” You huffed, throwing your arms up in the air exaggeratedly. “Can we go one god damned conversation with out talking about Carol!” You screamed. Daryl blinked cocking a brow at you looking at you like you grew a second head. “Wha-“ he started but the cap had already flown off. The dam was broken. And you were ready to break along with it. “Jesus fucking Christ!” You screamed at the top of your lungs holding your face, trying to muffle some of the sounds before turning and kicking the nearest rock to you, sending it over the ravine. “You two are always together! I can barely get a word in edgewise when she’s with you!” You cry holding your middle as sobs wreck your core. “And I have tried, Daryl! I have desperately tried to make sense of it all. I have given you both space! I have tried to get used to the pet names!” You sobbed. “Ya think I like it when-“ Daryl tried to interject, but you shook your head, holding a hand up to cut him off. “Daryl I’m not a fucking moron!” You whined wiping tears away. “I know…” your sobs stopped you. “I saw you both. The way you look at her. The way she kisses on you…” you sobbed, your knees buckled and so you hugged them close to your chest.

Daryl was silent for a minute. Only the sound of the forest surrounded you. As the crunching of leaves grew near then distant you were sure that Daryl was going to abandon you. Leave you out in the forest and return to her. But as a thump came behind you of a fallen Walker followed by the leaves rustling as Daryl settled behind you, you felt like you could finally breathe. His arms wrapped firmly around your middle gently. You couldn’t help but to lean back into his chest and let him hold you tight. Feeling Daryl’s breath on the back of your neck and his stubble rubbing against the bare skin of your shoulder as he laid his head there you felt yourself start to ground into this reality.

“It’s not like that.” He whispered softly into your ear after a long moment. Interlacing your fingers with his he sighed. “Car-“ he muttered, cutting himself off to reword. “Darlin’. What we have is so different from what Carol and I have. I love you. I can’t lie to you and say I don’t love her. I do. But it’s different. I…” he sighed, laying his head on your shoulder. “I love her like a sister. I think? Maybe like a best friend. But you.” He muttered clambering around you to sit in front of you, he took your cheeks in his hands, brushing the tears from your eyes. “I love you like my partner. Like we’re married. Like I could never live without you.”

He whispered, kissing your forehead lovingly. “How long have you felt this way?” He asked, pulling you tight to his chest. “Too long.” You answered weakly, snuggling close, sniffling. Daryl nodded, brushing back the hair from your face. “That why ya ran off yesterday with Merle?” He asked seriously. You only nodded. You could feel Daryl tense at the thought but you refused to let his imagination run wild, not when he quelled your own fears. “We ran into a herd... it was my fault. I was too loud. Merle took some down but it got out of hand and had to camp out.” Daryl hummed rubbing your arm the worry never melting from his face. “Nothing happened. We just talked.” You tried to reassure him but he still glared into the forest in front of you. “Daryl.” You whispered. “I’ll talk to Merle. Just… hate that you felt like you couldn’t talk to me about this.” He whispered.

Back at the prison Daryl immediately went to have a… talk with Merle. After a much needed shower you were back on the hillside, smoking the last of your cigarettes. “Hey.” A soft voice called from behind you. Turning to face the woman you cocked a brow. “Carol?” You muttered watching her take a seat a few feet away. “So… I caught Daryl on his way to… well.” She sighed running a hand through her gray bob. You frowned using your toe to kick a small rock down the hill you nodded. “And?” You whispered, glancing at her through the curtain of your hair. “Honey…” Carol whispered, scooting closer to you, taking your hand in Hera she squeezed it.

“Daryl loves you. He’s loved you since the start.” She muttered, smiling kindly. “When we talk, he only talks about you. How much he cares. He worries. He wants to care for you and asks for advice. He asks about relationship advice sometimes but sometimes he asks what he should do now in the world. And…” she moved so that she was in front of you. “I’m so so sorry I ever made you feel insecure about that, honey. I didn’t mean to. What Daryl and I have is-“ You cut her off with a sad look. “Like brother and sister. I know. He told me.” You muttered. “I accept your apology, Carol. I just hope Daryl forgives me.”

Nodding she sighed. “I’m sure he will.” She whispered. “Like I said. He loves you. He just gets… prickly.” She said, smiling up and behind you. “I ain’t shit…” Your boyfriend’s voice startled you, making you jump as he plopped down to sit beside you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders you frowned at his broken knuckles. “Did you-“ you reached out and grabbed his hand. “I deserved it, sugar! Just happy you got your shit sorted!” Merle called out walking past, showing off his shiner. Daryl glared at him, flipping him off and pulling you tighter to his chest. Carol giggled standing and walking behind you both. “Have fun, pookie.” She whispered, reaching down to scratch both of your heads as she walked away. “So?” You muttered. “So?” He whispered back. “Are you angry?” You asked. Daryl was silent for a moment as he watched those on the fence work, Rick in his garden, and Carl bring his father water. “No.” He muttered. “Are you?” He asked, looking into your eyes. Shaking your head you snuggled closer to him. “No.”

“Good…” he whispered, combing through your hair watching as the sun set. “Want to take a walk later? Just you and me?” He asked with a smirk blooming on his lips. Smirking back, you nodded. “It’s a date.”