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whatsnewalycat · 2 months

Text

Designated Person | 9

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 9: Where The Wild Things Are

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 8.6k+

Tags / Warnings: alternating pov, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, angst, food mention, jealousy, alcohol & alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, internal conflict, birthday party, a low-key dudes rule moment (bros! bros! bros!), tried my hardest hardest with Spanish but I am a white girl I’m sorry if its wrong pls let me know, a lot of dialogue like so much dialogue fuck, children, toxic relationships just bad all around

Notes: WELL HI, long time no see! I know it’s been over 6 months since I’ve updated. I went on a warpath with another series (Psychomanteum—it’s finished if you wanna check it out). But I’m back to force these two dummies to walk through hellfire 💘

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———————————————————————————

Nothing seems right.

For what has to be the hundredth time, you sift through the sparse collection of t-shirts and dresses hanging in your closet. Each time you push a hanger aside to consider a potential outfit, your brain falls into the same pattern.

First, you wonder if Frankie would like it. Granted, if you showed up wearing a cardboard box he’d still want to fuck you.

You want him to like it more than that, though.

You want him to see you and get all weak in the knees. You want him to look at you in that way he does sometimes. That soft, magnetic look that tugs at every part of you. The one that argues against logic and speaks to intuition instead. That can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of look.

After considering this entirely reasonable and attainable goal, you picture yourself wearing the clothes through Angie’s eyes.

You dissect each potential outfit as she would. This dress too low cut, that one too frumpy, the other too short. A critical chorus of slut slut slut plays in the back of your head, accented by the memory of her manicured hands wrapped around your throat, the growl she let out when she squeezed around your windpipe.

“You little slut, I will fucking kill you.”

Throughout this whirlwind of turmoil, snippets from this morning rise to the surface and drown out everything else.

Frankie’s lips on yours, hungry and certain. His strong hands on your body, digging into your skin. The way he talked to you, voice low and strained—Whose pussy is this?

Every time these words repeat, your heart hammers in your chest. Tingles trickle out from between your legs and work up your spine.

The time before this, right after he moved in, when you fucked on the couch… you felt dirty afterwards. It sent you into a spiral of self-guilt that gnawed away at you for days. It reminded you of how sex was towards the end last time. Like you could have been anyone. Like he needed something to make him feel alive, and you were just the most ready and willing participant.

But it felt different this time.

Intimate in a way it hasn’t been in so long. It felt like an act of something bigger and stronger, like he needed you specifically. Not the rush of endorphins. Not just the heat of another person. Not a substitute for the love his wife wouldn’t give him. It felt like he needed you and nothing else would sate him.

“I won’t do that to you again, mariposa, I promise. I’ll fix it, I promise I’ll fix it, ok?”

Right about here is when indecision ties your brain off in a knot that seizes the production of valuable output.

Then you return to yourself, staring into the closet like it’s fucking Narnia, and slide the hanger aside to do it all over again.

—

Frankie collapses into a patio chair with a groan, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair before replacing his cap, then tilts his head up towards the blazing sun and closes his eyes.

When he trekked through the Andes with his team, there were nights where he felt the cold so deep in his bones, he wondered if he would ever be able to get warm again.

Right now is the opposite of that.

Right now he would give up fistfuls of cash to feel that bone-deep freeze.

He casts a longing glance at the cooler and fantasizes about drinking a cold beer. That psssch-ahsound it would make when he opened the tab. He imagines the condensation cooling his heated skin and the alcohol calming his fried nerves.

Fuck, that sounds perfect.

Through the open window to the dining room, he can hear Angie and her sister Marta gossiping to each other, talking about how so-and-so is dating what’s his face again and blah blah blah. His ears perk up when Marta segues into their personal life.

“Speaking of people getting back together… How are things with you and Frankie?”

Angie doesn’t say anything, but must make a face at her sister because she follows the question up by giggling, “What, can I not ask?”

“Ay, Marta. No seas metiche.”

A beat of silence passes. Marta must non-verbally pry, because Angie speaks again, quieter this time.

“We’ll see.” Then quickly, almost defensively, she adds, “He’s getting his act together, you know. He quit drinking, and he’s doing this parole program. It seems like… it seems like he’s trying.”

“Mmm. Is he still living with that girl? Su amante?”

Frankie knows Angie well enough to know she rolls her eyes in response.

Marta tsks, but any further conversation is cut off by a sudden commotion of squealing and bickering.

He looks down at his watch, reading 1240, and guesses that Angie’s friend Carmen arrived with her five children.

His eyes clamp shut and he fantasizes about drinking a beer. Maybe three. Hell, make it ten. Ten would do just fine. Ten would anesthetize him just enough to let him clear his head and make this whole ordeal manageable.

“Just get through today,” he tells himself, “Just one more goddamn day, then you can be done with this fucking charade.”

The backdoor opens, releasing a burst of chaotic noise. Angie and Carmen step out, and he stands at attention.

“Oh wow, look at all this,” Carmen tells Angie, “Damn girl, you really went all out, didn’t you?”

“We don’t really know what the situation will be next year, with Frankie and everything,” Angie’s eyes flick to him, and she shrugs, “So I figured, make it memorable. For all of us.”

“Sure,” Carmen nods, concern creasing her brow, then she acknowledges Frankie with a quick head-to-toe scan, “Francisco, how’re you doing?”

“Better than I deserve,” he smirks, and gestures to the gift bag hanging off her wrist, “Let me take that for you. Want anything to drink?”

She hands off the present and glances at Angie, then back to Frankie, “Can I get a beer?”

“Sure,” he nods to Angie, “How about you, amor?”

“I’ll take a beer, too.”

“Two beers coming up,” Frankie calls behind him while descending the stairs.

As he walks to the 10’ x 20’ white canopy tent, he tries to eavesdrop, but the two women talk to each other in hushed tones. He has no doubt it’s about him, though, because he hears Carmen exclaim, “Oh shit, really?” then, quieter but still distinguishable, “Good for you, mamá.”

After dropping the gift bag on the designated table, Frankie goes to the cooler to grab two cans of beer and a bottle of water, then returns to the deck, where Angie and Carmen both lean against the railing. They both murmur a thanks when he hands them their drinks.

He rubs between her shoulder blades, “Need anything else?”

“A fucking Xanax,” she jokes while cracking her beer open. He watches foam bubble up from the mouth of the can and his pulse surges green with envy. She takes a long sip, then sighs, “Mmm let’s see. Food is done, Mamá and Marta are bringing everything out. Your mom should be here with the cake any minute. You got everything set up in the tent?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright, well,” she takes another swig and shrugs, “Wanna get the slip ‘n’ slide going? We can get the kiddos changed into their suits.”

“You got it.”

He starts away, but she grabs his shirt to stop him.

When he turns back to her, eyebrows raised in question, her golden brown eyes meet his, then drop to his lips, “Thank you.”

His hand finds her waist and he nods, “Not a problem.”

She kisses him, and he kisses her back, thinking of you—always fucking thinking of you— as he tells himself: One more day.

—

Leah picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Tell me I shouldn’t go to this party.”

She releases a big sigh that makes you grimace, then says, “Tell me you’re not actually thinking of going.”

You glance up at the Morales residence through your windshield, sinking down into your seat when you spot Benny, Will, and Dani making their way up the driveway.

“I’m outside in my car.”

Leah is quiet for a moment before she asks, “Do you want to go?”

“Yes and no,” you watch the Millers open the door and go inside the house, “I want to see Sarah, and I wanna be there for Frankie, just because… I don’t know, everything, but…”

“But Angie?”

You nod, casting your eyes down to your hands to pick at the frayed cuticles, “I’m afraid she’s going to say something or do something to retaliate against me.”

“You did have an affair with her husband—”

“I’m well aware,” you snip.

The silence that follows wrings guilt from your stomach. A burning sensation works up your throat behind your eyes, so you pinch them shut and hang your head.

“Fuck, sorry. You’re right. She has every right to despise me. I deserve it. I shouldn’t go, it’s stupid.”

Your words come out all pathetic and warbled by tears, but you continue anyway.

“I feel so torn. I care about them a lot and I wanna be there. I want it to be better so that… fuck. I don’t know. Nevermind.”

“Why do you want it to be better?”

“It’s stupid.”

“No, I want you to tell me.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, tilting your head up towards the drooping ceiling of your car. The answer pulses through your body and tingles on the tip of your tongue. If you speak it you might shatter to dust.

Instead, you offer up a consolation prize to distract her.

“I did something I shouldn’t have,” you whisper, then swing your head down to stare at your steering wheel, “I… had sex with him.”

Leah snorts, “I fucking knew it.”

“Shut up, you did not,” you scoff, “It just happened this morning.”

“Rach owes me $10.”

“You bet that—God, you are the worst.”

You hang up on her, then stare at your phone for a few seconds before sending a text to Frankie.

< ME: < Are you sure I should come? I feel nervous

A few unresponsive seconds go by before you flip the visor down to inspect your reflection in the mirror. Not terrible. Some black smudges around your eyes. Could use some lipstick.

You remedy these problems while trying not to think too hard about what you’re about to do, lying to yourself in hopes that you can somehow warp the truth.

This will be fine.

—

By the time Frankie gets the hose hooked up to the slip ‘n’ slide, his mother- and sister-in-law are setting the last few food items out on the long folding table under the tent.

Two of Carmen’s sons dash across the deck in their swimsuits. As he passes them on the stairs, he ruffles the older one’s scraggly dark brown hair, calling after them, “Soda and water in the cooler if you boys are thirsty.”

They holler an acknowledgment as Frankie makes his way inside.

The relief of stepping into cool, conditioned air quickly dissipates as the commotion hits him.

At least a dozen conversations meld together in this wall of indistinguishable sound. He can’t quite focus on any of the vaguely familiar faces or isolate one single voice from the warble of people talking.

A heavy, frantic pounding starts in his chest. His hands start to tingle. Noises disappear completely for a second, replaced by a high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Jesus fucking Christ, I’m losing it.

He pulls a chair out from the dining room table and sits down, praying nobody notices him clench his eyes closed to inhale a deep, wide breath.

Then another.

Everything starts to come back into focus, and he tunes into someone asking, “Fish, you ok?”

He startles when a broad palm settles between his shoulder blades. Looking towards the source, he finds Will’s dusty blue eyes studying him with concern.

“Shit,” Frankie mutters, running a hand over his face before he clearing his throat and standing, “Sorry, yeah. Think I got too much heat or something.” He gives his friend a quick, one-armed hug, “Good to see you, man.”

When Will parts ways with Frankie, he gives him a look that says he doesn’t buy it for a second, but doesn’t push the subject.

His wife, Dani, approaches with a cautious smile, “Frankie, good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too” Frankie gives her a hug, “Thanks for coming.” They separate and he asks Will, “Benny here yet?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, jerking his head towards the living room, “Shooting the shit with your mom.”

“Figures,” Frankie chuckles and shakes his head, “I gotta go make my rounds, but, uhh,” he gestures from the gift box in the crook of Will’s arm to the back door, “There’s a gift table outside. Food and drinks and all that, help yourselves.”

“Catch up later, yeah?” Will nods.

Frankie mirrors the action as a few waist-high kids race past, budging in front of them when Will opens the door.

He notices a cluster of aimless partygoers lingering between the dining and living room, and starts directing the halted human traffic out to the backyard. It prods them into action, thinning out the crowded common area as he makes his way to the couch, where he finds his mom sitting with Sarah in her lap and Benny at her side. Benny says something to Sarah that makes her and her grandmother giggle.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Frankie asks, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

“Francisco!”

She passes Sarah to Benny and struggles to get to her feet.

“Christ, mamá, let me help you” he mutters while taking her well-worn hands in his to pull her upright.

She’s always been a woman of small stature, barely measuring up to his shoulders once the growth spurts petered out and left him as tall as he’d always be. But each time he sees her, she seems to have shrunk a little bit more.

As soon as she steadies herself, she kisses his cheek, then pulls him down into a surprisingly tight embrace, telling him, “I missed you so much, mijo.”

“Missed you too, Ma.”

She pulls back from the hug, but holds onto his arms to look him over, “How have you been?”

“Fine,” he nods, looking away when her keen dark eyes narrow, “What about you, hmm? How was the drive?”

“Bien bien,” she waves off his questions and takes a step back to smile at the birthday girl, “She’s getting so big, Pancho. Such a pretty dress.”

Sarah grabs at the puffy hem of her skirt and giggles at the attention.

Frankie snorts in admiration at his daughter, then asks her, “You wanna go see your party, princesa?”

“Yes!”

He looks at Benny, “I gotta see if Ang needs me to do anything, do you wanna…?”

“Escort these lovey ladies?” Benny winks at Julieta, “Shit, I’d love to.”

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie mutters, then tells Sarah, “Go with Uncle Benny, I’ll be there in a minute, ok?”

She jumps off Benny’s lap and runs to the back door, leveraging her weight against the knob. It swings open and she escapes, sending Benny chasing after her, laughing, “Hey, wait up!”

Julieta starts after them just as Sarah’s bedroom door opens, and two little girls come charging towards the back door. Carmen and Angie trail behind, the former carrying a baby tucked into her side, the latter looking around with a puzzled expression pasted to her face.

“Everyone outside?” Angie asks her husband, slowing to a stop a few feet away from him while Carmen continues outside.

“Yeah. I, uhh, got the slip ‘n’ slide set up, all the food is out—anything else you need me to do?”

“Is your girl here?”

She smirks and tilts her head at him, like she’s joking or teasing, but the humor doesn’t reach her eyes.

His skittish heart skips in his chest.

Sensing a trap, Frankie searches her face and shakes his head like he doesn’t understand.

Angie raises an eyebrow at him, “Don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about.”

So fucking sick of this.

“Whatever,” he blinks, “No. I haven’t seen her yet. Anything else?”

The forced amusement immediately drops from her face and she stomps outside, slamming the door closed behind her.

He takes a deep breath, pulling his hat up to run a hand through his hair, then glances at his watch.

1308

He shakes some of the nervous energy from his fingertips and starts to pace the living room.

What if you decided not to come?

Honestly, it would make today much easier. He could just go out there and play his role. Put on his mask and blame his disposition on the ongoing legal battle. His mother, wife, and friends, they’d be none the wiser.

Something inside him lurches at the thought.

Suddenly and very clearly, he understands that if you don’t show, nothing will change. He will drive this ship into the ground.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings.

He jogs down the steps, swings the door open, and there you are, wearing a pretty floral sundress and a nervous smile.

“Hey,” he backs up to allow you entry.

“Hi,” your smile grows wider, and you step past him as you enter the house, “Long time no see.”At the foot of the stairs, you turn to face him, “Where’s the party?”

“Backyard.”

“Oh.”

When you glance down at his mouth, one hundred butterflies start chittering away at his stomach. He licks his lips and notices himself gravitating towards you. It doesn’t help that you’re doing it, too. The subtle way your body bows in his direction, inching so close he can smell the bright burst of your perfume and the damp musk of your sweat.

“Is everyone out there?”

“Pretty sure,” his eyes flick to the vacant upstairs, then back to you, “Why?”

Just an inch away, you clamp a grin closed and shrug, “No reason.”

“Uh huh,” he raises an eyebrow, daring to rest his hand on your waist. The contact floods his body with a hot, thudding pulse he can taste.

Searching his face, you slide your palm over his heart. Beneath your touch, the muscle pounds at its seams.

Against his better judgment, he leans in to capture your lips in his. Warmth spreads out from his chest through his limbs. You hook a hand behind his neck and pull him closer, your body curving flush against his.

Only hours have gone by since he last saw you, but it feels like months. It’s like that with you. Timeless when you’re together and an eternity when you’re apart.

Pulling back, you look at the floor and shake your head, “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“We shouldn’t, umm,” you swallow hard, shaking your head again as you glance upstairs, “Here, now, you know…”

He glances at the back door, “You’re right. We should get to the party.“

“Yeah,” you take a big step back and clear your lungs with a deep breath, then hold up your gift bag, “Where should I put this?”

“Right this way—”

“Wait, look at me,” you chuckle, tugging at his hand.

He faces you, asking, “What?”

You cup his cheek and lick the pad of your thumb, bringing it to his bottom lip, “Lipstick.”

Your brow furrows in concentration, tongue poking out the corner of your mouth as you scrub off the evidence.

It’s kind of adorable, the way in which you do this. Doting, almost. Reminds him of the times Mamá would catch him with a dirty face in public and try to make him more presentable.

Briefly, he pictures you as the matriarch of a rowdy crew of children. Driving a minivan to school drop-offs and extracurricular activities and family outings. It suits you.

He can’t stop his lips from curving into a smile.

“What?” you grin, eyes flicking to his.

“Nothing,” he murmurs as you tilt his face around and inspect him. “Better?”

“Better,” you nod, “How about me?”

He pinches your chin and looks you over, correcting a smudge before telling you, “All clear. You ready?”

You give a half-hearted shrug, looking around at the ground, then ask, “Your wife isn’t gonna like… yell at me in front of everyone or pelt me with produce, right? This isn’t an elaborate revenge prank?”

“Is that what all the tomatoes are for? Shit,” he teases, earning a chuckle and an eye roll from you. “No, but really. She agreed to be nice.”

“Ok,” you nod, “So I’m like allowed to talk to you and everything without worrying she’ll try to murder me?”

Frankie snorts, “She wouldn’t murder you—”

“She has literally told me ‘I will fucking kill you.’”

“That was—” he shakes his head, then brings his hands to your shoulders and stares into your eyes, “It’s gonna be fine, mariposa. We’re gonna go bullshit with people and eat some food, and then we’re gonna home and watch a stupid fucking movie. Ok?”

You laugh, dropping your gaze for a moment before returning with a bashful smile, “Ok.”

—

As you make your way down the food table, piling tamales and Spanish rice and fresh fruit on a flimsy paper plate, you feel eyes on the back of your head. Whether it’s just one set or ten, you don’t care to know, but the feeling sends a shiver up your spine.

When you reach the end of the line, you take a deep breath before turning to find a place to sit.

Like every other party, the crowd is mostly separated into cliques.

Parents from around the neighborhood stick together at a few long tables, bribing their children to eat and drink water before returning to the slip-n-slide. At another table sits Angie’s family, including the queen herself, whose pointed stare you gloss over, ignoring her and Frankie at her side. You find some familiar faces at a table near the edge of the big party tent: Benny, Will, and Dani. With them is a small, elderly woman who must be Frankie’s mom or an aunt or something, due to the striking resemblance.

The whole thing reminds you of choosing a place to sit in your high school cafeteria. Much like you did in those days, you gravitate towards an empty table nearby, but halt when some calls your name.

Frowning, you look around to find Benny waving at you.

“Over here,” he pulls out the chair beside him.

You approach with a smile, the tension held in your shoulders dissolving just a little as you take the open seat and greet everyone.

“Thanks. I didn’t know if, umm… it was ok,” you chuckle nervously and drop your eyes to your plate, shaking your head.

“Oh, come on now, you’re always welcome with us,” Benny grins, leaning back in his chair to reveal the tiny graying woman on the other side of him, “Have you met Frankie’s mom, Julieta?”

“I have not,” you reach across Benny to shake her hand, “Good to meet you, I’m—”

She waves you off and pushes her chair out behind her. You half-expect her to furiously walk away at your presence, but instead she wobbles over to you and holds her arms open.

“I know who you are. Come here, mija.”

You stand to accept the invitation, stammering out, “Oh—ok—”

Emotion wells up in your chest when her bony arms squeeze tight around you and she tells you, “Thank you for taking care of my boy.”

Not sure what to say, you just hug her back for a few long seconds. The embrace says it all. It feels maternal and earnest and brings a few tears to your eyes. When she pulls away and smiles at you, you notice she’s a little misty-eyed, too, and you smile back at her. She gives your cheek a few pats before you both return to your seats.

“How’ve you been?” Dani asks.

You contemplate the question long enough for Benny to interject.

“Well, she’s keeping Fish out of trouble so I’m sure she’s having a hell of a time.”

You shrug, “It’s nothing compared to some of the toddlers I’ve had to deal with.”

Your audience chuckles, then awaits a follow up.

“No, I, umm… I’m doing ok. Going through a breakup, so that’s tough, but… mostly I’m good.”

Why did I say that?

“A breakup?” Benny leans back and drapes an arm over the back of your chair, “What happened?”

“Oh, we don’t have to—” you laugh at your plate, stabbing a chunk of watermelon.

“Come on, give us the dirt,” Benny prods.

You shove the watermelon in your mouth and wrinkle your nose at him, shaking your head.

“Let the girl have some privacy,” Dani scolds, “If she doesn’t wanna talk about it, she doesn’t wanna talk about it.”

“If she didn’t wanna talk about it she wouldn’t’ve mentioned it,” he counters.

“It’s fine, it wasn’t even a big deal. We were only dating for a few weeks and it wasn’t a good match,” you explain, glancing around the table, “I don’t know why I said it, sorry, I’m just, umm… nervous.”

You notice Will studying you and hold his meticulous gaze for a moment before dropping your eyes to your plate. He speaks up then, drawing the fire away from you.

“Hey, that’s alright. Not like Benny has room to criticize,” he gives his brother a lopsided grin, “Remember that girl that tried to stab you?”

“Not this again,” Benny groans.

“Ok well now you have to tell me,” you say, flashing a grateful smile to Will before nudging Benny, “Come on, give me the dirt.”

“Well, if you’re gonna twist my arm about it.” He visibly shifts into storytelling mode, sitting up straighter as a glint of mischief sparks in his eyes, “First of all, I had no business dating her to begin with. She had a PT Cruiser with whiskey plates. If that’s not a red flag, I don’t know what is.”

—

Trying to be a halfway decent host, Frankie makes his way around the party checking in with people, introducing himself to all the unfamiliar faces and making small talk, recycling the same lines.

Drinks are in the cooler if you’re thirsty. Thanks for coming. I’m doing great, how about you?

Meanwhile, Ang seems to have taken on his former role as the champion beer drinker of the party. Every time he glances at her she’s either guzzling it down or popping open a new aluminum can.

When she and Carmen start directing slip ‘n’ slide traffic and seem sufficiently distracted, he walks up to the table where some of his favorite people are seated and takes the open chair next to Will.

“Look who it is,” Will smirks at him, “We were just talking about you.”

“Christ, do I wanna know?” he leans forward to rest his elbows on the table.

“Probably not, I was talking mad shit about you,” you tease, looking at him with a grin that makes his heart swell.

“Figures you would be,” he shoots back.

You chuckle and shake your head, “No, actually I was just telling them about how I’m teaching you to cook.”

“Oh yeah,” he looks around the table, “Did you tell them about the stir-fry?”

“Ok, you tried with the stir-fry and it was almost edible—”

“Almost edible?” Benny laughs

“Somehow the rice was both undercooked and burnt, and the veggies were mush,” you share, sitting up taller when you meet his eyes, “But it could’ve been worse. You’re learning!”

“I’m just impressed you could get him in the kitchen in the first place,” Benny says, then turns his attention to Julieta, “Mamá, you didn’t make him cook anything growing up?”

She tsks and waves him off, then explains, “His father wouldn’t let me. He was very traditional, you know, said it was women’s work.“

“It’s ok, Ma,” Frankie assures her.

“I am glad you’re learning now.” A smile stretches across her face, “You must be grateful to have such a good teacher.”

“I am, really,” he nods and glances at you before admitting, “I’d be a fucking mess without her.”

Everyone at the table seems to sit with this information in silence for a moment before Will clears his throat and asks, “Are you still working on that car?”

Frankie leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, “Here and there. Lately it’s just been collecting dust.”

“Mind if I check it out?” Will inquires, “It’s been, what, a year and a half since I’ve seen it?”

“Sure,” he frowns, looking over at you and your creased brow as if seeking permission, at which point you give a shrug, then he squints up across the yard and spots Angie talking to her mom and dad. “Let me just tell Ang so she doesn’t lose her shit if she can’t find me.”

The three men stand from the table. Frankie gives you one more glance before starting off towards his wife. With each step he takes across the grass, he wishes more and more that he could kiss you again. Give you reassurance that you’re doing great in this precarious situation.

Angie’s father glares at him as he approaches, which isn’t abnormal. Angie follows his line of sight, wobbling a bit as she lays eyes on him. Surprisingly, she smiles, “Hey!”

“Hey—”

She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him, the action so unexpected he stumbles back a step. Her lips taste of beer and poor judgment. When he pulls away, he plasters on a fake grin and says, “The guys wanna look at the car, is it ok if I slip away for a few?”

“You boys and your toys,” she rolls her eyes, “Fine, just be back for presents in a couple minutes, yeah?”

“Alright,” he searches over her shoulder, “How’s Sarah doing?”

“Good, good,” she nods, “She’s playing with Carm’s kids in the sandbox.”

“Make sure she gets some water, I don’t think she drank any with—”

“She’s fine, Francisco. I’ve got it,” she insists, patting his chest.

He studies her for a moment, then says, “Ok, I’ll be back in a minute. We’ll be in the garage if you need me.”

“Give me a kiss,” Angie demands, her long nails scraping at the nape of his neck. He leans in and presses his lips to hers, feeling nothing but irritation and disgust.

—

When Frankie and the Miller brothers disappear into the house, so does your social armor, leaving you exposed.

For a while you make scattered small talk with Julieta and Dani, discussing Sarah and the party and the weather. You watch Sarah play with her friends from a distance, not wanting to disrupt their sand castle building by approaching. Every once in a while, your eyes cheat to Angie.

A vile, familiar sensation sits heavy in your stomach.

He warned you that it might be difficult seeing them together, but you forgot how bad it hurts to witness.

The way she kissed him doesn’t help. Hanging off him, looking at him with bedroom eyes.

It’s not the same this time. He’s different now.

The foul thing in your belly goes dead weight, making you lurch.

What if he’s not?

Before you can spiral too much, you hear, “Chacha!” and realize Sarah is running towards you

“Hi, pumpkin!” you smile and outstretch your arms to catch her as she slams into you.

“I’m not a pumpkin, I’m just a girl,” she giggles.

“Are you having fun at your party?”

She grunts out an “mhmm” while you pull her up onto your lap. Her face is flushed, skin all heated and damp with sweat.

“You look like you’re hot, do you want some water?”

“Um. Ok!” she smiles.

“Ok let me get you—”

“I got it,” Dani stands and starts towards the cooler.

You murmur a thanks and return your attention to Sarah, “Thank you for letting me come to your party. I’m having so much fun.”

She giggles in response, leaning into you.

“How are you liking daycare? Do you get to play with your friends?”

She nods.

Dani returns with a cold water bottle, twisting the cap open before handing it to you.

“Here you go, sweetie,” you bring the bottle to her lips and slowly tip it back as she takes big gulps of water. Periodically, you pull it away and let her catch her breath, then start again until she pushes it away.

“Better?”

“Much better,” she nods.

“Maybe she should go inside and cool down for a minute?” Dani suggests.

Julieta leans over to feel her forehead, “Too much sun, hija.”

“Do you wanna go inside for a minute?” You ask, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Chacha will you go with me?”

“You want me to—oh, um… should we ask your mom…?” You frown at Dani, who grimaces, then Julieta.

“Just take her,” Julieta insists, “I’ll tell Angelica if she comes looking.”

“Ok. Ok sure. Let’s go, sweetie.”

You rise from the chair, sliding Sarah to your hip, then carry her up the stairs into the house. Once inside, you sit on the couch with her for a few seconds before she wriggles away and scampers off down the hallway.

“Chacha come see my room!”

“Oh my fucking god,” you whisper under your breath, glancing nervously up at the back door before following her, “Ok, but just for a minute, then we should go back out to the party.”

—

“Are you seriously calling him?” Frankie blinks, leaning back against the workbench.

Will shoots him a look while raising the phone to his ear.

“Unbelievable. It’s like six o’clock in the morning there, you’re gonna wake—”

“Hey Pope, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” Will presses a button and sets the phone down next to Frankie, “Now I want Fish to tell you what he just told me and Benny.”

Gnashing his jaw back and forth, he stares at Will, then Benny. They both watch him expectantly while Santi speaks up, his voice groggy from sleep.

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

Frankie clears his throat and rubs his mouth before saying, “I’m gonna ask Ang for a divorce.”

“Oh shit, ok.”

Will prods Frankie further, “Tell him the other part.”

“Will you just—Fuck, ok. I’m… seeing someone.”

On the other line, Santi chuckles a little, “Uh-huh.“

“Any guesses on who that might be?” Benny asks.

“Oh, I have one—”

“Wait wait wait, let me give you a hint,” Benny grins while scrolling through his phone, pushing off the hood of the car to grandstand, “On June 10–only seven weeks ago, mind you—Fish said about her, and I quote: It’s not like that, we’re only friends. To which you said—”

“—I said bull-fucking-shit!” Santi finishes, then howls, “That is fucking delicious, thank you.”

Frankie crosses his arms and shakes his head at Will, “See, this is why I didn’t wanna tell him.”

“How long?” Santi asks.

“How long what?”

“How long have you been sleeping with her?”

“It’s… complicated, ok?”

Benny giggles and repeats, “Oh, it’s complicated.”

Santi questions further, “Sure, well, let me ask you this: How long have you been in love with her?”

“Why does it matter?”

“You do, though, right? You love her?”

Frankie crosses his arms and glares at the phone, “Yeah.”

“When did that happen?”

Heat flares through his veins. He wrings his neck and mutters, “That’s a stupid question.”

“Why’s it stupid?”

“Cuz, Pope, that’s like… that’s like asking how long ago mankind came to exist. Or asking what point a chrysalis becomes a butterfly. I don’t fucking know, man, it just does. I just know that I do, I love her, and I have for… a while.”

The two men before him are silent, along with the voice on the phone. Frankie, on the other hand, finds momentum in his confession. He continues.

“And Ang… Jesus Christ, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve felt like this with her. And the longer I think about it, the more I convince myself I never did. Not this way, like I can’t live without her, you know?” He taps his fingers against his lips, then shrugs, “Maybe I could have at one point, if I tried. But even then… I don’t like who I am when I’m with her. It doesn’t feel right. It’s like I’m wearing someone else’s skin and it doesn’t fit me.”

He glances up at Benny, then Will. Their faces are somber, but understanding. Benny approaches, leaning on the workbench beside him to rope an arm around his shoulders and give him a supportive squeeze.

“When are you gonna tell her?” Will asks.

“Soon. Not today, but this week probably.“

Benny withdraws his touch and crosses his arms in front of his chest, “She’ll go right for the jugular. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Frankie takes off his cap to run a hand through his hair, then puts it back, “She’s gonna try to take Sarah. Fuck, I’m gonna need another goddamn lawyer, aren’t I?”

“Can you afford that right now?” Will furrows his brow, studying him, “Be honest.”

“Probably. Well, maybe. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but is now the right time? You’re on parole and looking to add felony charges to your wrap sheet. Not to mention the infidelity. On paper, your custody case is shit.”

Frankie shakes his head, “If I have to keep living like this… all this lying and pretending… I don’t know, man. I can’t do it anymore. Something inside me is about to break. I can feel it.”

The Millers exchange a look.

“I don’t think I’m speaking out of line by saying we all just want what’s best for you, Fish,” the voice over the phone tells him, “We want you to be happy. If you need to get out, get out.”

Frankie glances up at Will, who nods in confirmation.

“Thanks. It-it means a lot to me,” he shifts his weight to one leg, looking down at his wristwatch, “We better get back to the party. Talk soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Santi says, “Hang in there, buddy.”

After hanging up the phone, Will gives Frankie a pat on the shoulder, “We’ve got your back.”

As they file out of the garage into the entryway, Angie walks out from the bathroom. When she notices them climbing the steps, she calls, “Hi boys.”

To his credit, Benny puts on a convincing smile and greets her with a high five, “What’s up, Angie?”

She steps aside to let him pass, then fixes her glassy eyes on Will, “How’s the carcocha looking?”

“Better than the last time we saw it,” Will shrugs, glancing over his shoulder at Frankie, “Just needs a little TLC.”

“Needs to go to the scrapyard if you ask me,” she snorts and tilts her head at her husband as he reaches the top of the stairs, “Hey handsome.”

He gives her a half-hearted smirk, then frowns, “Where’s Sarah?”

“She’s fine, still playing. Francisco,” she tugs on his shirt, so he comes to a stop.

Jesus Christ, her breath smells like a brewery.

His eyes flick to the Millers stalled at the back door. After waving at them to clear out, he raises his eyebrows at Angie, “What?”

“I need your help with something.”

“Sure, what?”

Instead of answering him outright, she takes his hand and leads him down the hallway. His stomach twists with understanding when she pulls him through the doorway towards the bed.

“If you wanna lay down for a bit, I can take care of every—”

She turns to face him, placing her palms on his chest and sliding them up to his shoulders, “I want you to fuck me, Francisco.”

“Ang,” he chuckles with exasperation, shaking his head, “We have a backyard full of guests here, come on.”

“They’re all having fun, no one will notice.” She takes his hand and guides it to her face, gently folding down all his finger but the index and pouts, “Please, Frankie.”

He swallows a groan when she wraps her full lips around his digit and sucks. The wet hot plush of her mouth makes his eyelids flutter and weakens his resolve.

“I don’t think—”

She pulls his finger from her mouth like a lollipop and bats her eyelashes at him, cooing, “Don’t you wanna fuck me like you did the other night? Didn’t that feel good?”

“Well, yeah—”

“We can be quick.”

As she reaches for his belt, something moves at the edge of his vision.

“Mommy, Daddy!”

He looks at the doorway to find Sarah in the hall, holding one penguin toy in each of her pudgy toddler fists. A big, toothy grin spreads across her face and she giggles, galloping into the room.

Thankful for the diversion, Frankie smiles and takes a big step away from his wife, crouching down to ask Sarah, “Hey sweetheart, what’re you doing in here?”

“Showing Chacha my penguins,” she tells him, holding up her toys, “This one is an emperor penguin, and this one is a macaroni penguin!”

“Chacha?”

Something inside him drops to the floor. He looks up and sees you emerge from Sarah’s room. You pause briefly in the hallway, glancing at Angie before meeting his gaze. The pained look on your face rips his heart in two.

“I, umm…” you stammer, dropping your eyes to the floor and shaking your head, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I was just—leaving. There’s a thing and-and I have to go.”

With this, you flee down the hall, then the stairs, your footsteps still echoing heavy in his head while the front door slams shut.

—

“Whiskey coke?”

You look up from the bar top’s glossy wood finish to give Bubba a nod.

“Ain’t seen you around here in a while,” he comments while scooping ice into a glass.

“Yeah.”

It surprises you a little, how hoarse your voice sounds. A self-awareness passes over you and you straighten your spine, glancing around the bar before digging a compact mirror from your purse. By the time you finish rubbing the bleeding mascara from your swollen eyes, Bubba is placing your drink in front of you.

You exchange the mirror for your wallet, but when you fish out your card and hold it out to Bubba, he shakes his head.

“On the house.”

“What, do I get the sad sap discount?”

He chuckles a little at this, then shrugs, “If that’s what you wanna call it.”

“Thanks.”

Leaning forward onto the bar, you pull the glass closer, then stab the ice with your straw a few times. Little bubbles of carbonation fizzle up to the surface and release the gassy scent of rail whiskey. Nostalgia sours your stomach.

“Everything alright?”

A deep ache branches out from the weight beneath your sternum and curls around your shoulders. Every cell in your body feels heavy and burdensome.

Staring at the glass, you shake your head.

“I’m all ears if you wanna talk about it.”

“It’s a long, messy story.”

“I got time.”

You glance up at him, studying his concerned expression, and sigh, “You know that guy who meets me here sometimes? Brown hair, usually wearing a hat? Started a fight that one time?”

“The vet?”

“Yeah,” you nod and swallow down the thickness in your throat, then tell him, “We’ve been off and on for years. He’s, umm… he’s married. I was their nanny when it started. I fell in love with him. He made it clear he didn’t feel the same and he wouldn’t leave his wife, but I kept seeing him because I’m an idiot.”

“Sounds like you kept seeing him because you loved him, not because you’re an idiot,” Bubba observes.

“Same difference,” you shrug and tilt your head at your drink, “He’s an alcoholic. After his wife caught us fucking, he went off the rails completely. Still kept seeing him even though he kept me at an arm’s length and drank himself dumb every night. The thing is… I never believed him when he said he couldn’t love me like I loved him. I felt it, and I thought…”

Tingles work up your throat behind your eyes, and everything becomes blurry as you choke out a sob.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s ok.”

You shake your head and wipe away your tears, but they keep coming.

“I thought if I kept loving him he would see how good it could be and come around. I thought he would admit to himself that he does love me like I love him. I wanted that with him so bad, I just couldn’t fucking let go. Then, umm…”

You clear your throat and take a deep, shaky breath.

“I had to give him an ultimatum. Her or me. He picked her. I cut it off and tried to move on with my life. He called me a few months ago from jail and asked me to bail him out. I got roped into being his custodian while he’s on parole, so he’s been living with me. We agreed not to get involved in, umm, that way again.

“He’s been sober and opening up emotionally while working through this shit. It’s been really hard. But it’s also been good, you know, because we’ve had to hash out all these problems that we’ve ignored for years. I’ve been able to see the real him, and… I love him more than I ever have.”

“Uh-huh,” Bubba raises an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms above his beer belly, “So what happened that’s got you in a fuss? He still doesn’t love you back?”

The question pierces your heart.

Your voice balances a tightrope as you confess, “I thought he did. I really did this time, I was so fucking certain. He promised he would fix it, that we could be together—and I fucking believed him—”

Waves of emotion swell in your chest and flood your eyes with hot tears. You fold forward, burying your face in your hands, releasing sob after sob as you replay the last two months in your head and wonder how you could be so fucking stupid to think it was real.

The world around you melts away until it’s just you and that dense, pulsing pain. Like it’s always been. Like it always will be.

It doesn’t matter how hard you try to help him. It doesn’t matter that you love him more than anything else in this world. It doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters, because he doesn’t love you and he never will.

A hand rests on your shoulder blades and pulls you back to reality. So lost in your self-pity, you didn’t notice Bubba come around the bar to console you. You sit up and wipe your eyes, mumbling out an apology.

“It’s fine, darlin’. Can I do anything to help?”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’ll be ok.”

“You sure?”

You inhale a shattered breath and give him a weak smile, “Fifty-fifty.”

He furrows his brow and studies you for a moment before nodding, then taking a step back.

As he makes his way back to his side of the bar, you stare at your drink. A fat droplet of moisture rolls down the thick condensation lining the glass and gets swallowed up by the cardboard coaster beneath.

You wish you could forget about him.

You wish you could feel nothing.

You wish you could hurt him the way he’s hurt you.

So, you pluck out the straw, raise the cup to your lips, and start drinking.

—

The setting sun paints the wispy clouded sky above a brilliant shade of orange. Beneath his feet, the soles of Frankie’s shoes scuff against the driveway. He glances down at his mom, with her arm hooked in his, and says, “Thanks for coming out, Mamá. I hope you had a good time.”

“It was a very nice party, mijo.”

She gives him this stifled polite smile like she’s holding something back. So he prods her.

“What?”

She waves him off, “Nada nada.”

“Come on, Ma.”

They come to a stop at the driver’s side door of her car and turn to face each other. She studies him a moment, then gives in with a huff, “You have been like this all afternoon. Why?”

“Like what?”

“So stormy.”

He deflates, “Don’t worry about it.”

Her lips purse as she tilts her head at him. The ‘don’t make me smack you’ look.

“It’s messy, mom. How I’m feeling,” he wrings a hand behind his neck and shrugs, “I don’t know. Everything is a mess and it’s all my fault.”

“All your fault how? Did something happen?”

“No—well,” he catches himself, swallows, then corrects, “Yeah. I did something bad. And I lied about it. Then I got caught in the lie, and, you know…”

She nods slowly, waiting for more.

“I think I might be a bad person.”

Her expression softens when Frankie says it. She cups his cheeks and stares straight into his soul. Suddenly, he’s five years old all over again, Mamá comforting his bruised heart.

“There is a good man inside you. I know him well because he’s my son. Let him be brave.”

He absorbs this for a moment, then croaks, “Ok.”

“Give me a hug.”

He hunches over to hug her, burying his face in her neck, “Quiero mucho, mamá.”

“Yo a ti,” she squeezes him, then pulls back and asks, “Will you call me tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

He waits for her to get in her car and drive away before returning to the house. Inside, he finds Sarah and Benny reading a book on the couch, while the siren song of the party still roaring out back rubs at his nerves.

Frankie pulls out his phone to confirm you, predictably and rightfully, did not respond to his messages or calls. Reconciling with you will be a fucking nightmare. Going home to face the consequences seems less appealing with each passing second.

He starts to consider other options.

He could stay and drink. Join the party. Doubtful that Angie or any of her people would give a shit. Hell, they would probably encourage him.

Better yet, he could stay and drink by himself in the garage. There’s enough booze laying around, nobody would notice if he drained a bottle or two in order to reach that blissful numb.

He plops down on the couch next to Sarah and brings his attention to Benny’s reading.

“—‘Now stop!’ Max said and sent the wild things off to bed without their supper. And Max the king of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all. Then all around from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat so he gave up being king of where the wild things are.

But the wild things cried, ‘Oh please don’t go—we’ll eat you up—we love you so!’ And Max said, ‘No!’ The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved goodbye… and sailed back over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day… and into the night of his very own room where he found his supper waiting for him… and it was still hot.”

Benny flips the paperback closed and looks down at Sarah, who yawns and rubs her eyes, then to her father.

“Still want that ride home?”

Frankie considers this for a moment before nodding, “Yeah. Let me put her to bed and talk to Ang, then we can take off.”

#designated person #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales angst #x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fic

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hollyhomburg · 6 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.64)

(Sneek Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: “Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.” “Shut up Jimin you are not going to die.”

Tags: Angst, Blood, Gore, Maiming, violent acts described perpetrated by loved ones, near death experiences, near death experiences, No one dies, Jimin does not die, Hurt with just a little comfort.

W/c: 7.0k

A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter will be a little shorter than usual after such a long weight but i literally could not finish the second half of it in time. i've been going through a rough patch™ which is why recently the updates have been 3 weeks apart instead of just 2 like usual. idk when that will change, this might just be the new reality for me 😭 when i tell you the end of this chapter has a fucking twist to it that i love, you're not prepared!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

~-~

Chapter 64 Sneak Peak: Pawn and King

The fog covers everything like a balmy damp shadow, the snow going straight to sublimation. Pockets of old streetlamp lights punctuate the darkness. But through it there are husks of metal rising like soldiers. The sky orange behind them from the distant lights of the city,

Jin’s car is there. Hobi spots it. Its blue paint stands out through the overlap of grey brush as his headlights roll over it. And then further in the darkness maybe 50 feet away, Jimin's car. Shiny and black like the husk of an insect.

You're about a mile away from where they must be doing demolition. A singular crane and floodlights shine, casting everything, the river, and this building into a grey-slanted light.

You pull around in the yard in front of the largest and most intact building. You leave the keys in it. Tumbling out the second it glides to a stop.

“Stay here.” You say, but Hobi gets out anyway. He hasn’t noticed the gun tucked into your waistband until now. It makes his pulse tick higher when you take it out. He stares at it.

"Hobi," he looks up at your face, and you flick the safety off. "Sink or swim?"

His hand finds yours. "Swim."

You shake your head like you're angry with yourself, not him. squeezing it once then letting it go. You don’t waste another second arguing. "Stay behind me."

You head off following the disturbed dust, Hobi trailing behind. Ducking from pocket of light to pocket of light.

He always wondered what happened to the gun you’d pointed at him that night you’d run away. That train ticket that still burns a hole in his pocket, a distraction maybe. He's spent the last few months fixating on it- and you of course too. Too fixated to notice the small things that he sees plainly right now. There are facts here that Hobi has not noticed.

The way you hold the gun is not practiced; and why should it be the only one who knows how to handle guns in the pack is Jimin? But the way you walk; completely silent as you transfer your weight from one foot to the other, is heartbreakingly familiar. Hobi knows how and why you've learned to move quietly.

It's almost a dance; the way you glide across the floor. The gun is an extension of your arms, like a dancer's ballet fingers. Spreading and flaying like a wing. Pinky to trigger and index finger along the barrel.

Hobi had always assumed that it belonged to Jimin. Hobi had almost forgotten about it. It was almost 6 months ago now, wasn’t it? there are some things that you never forget, and trauma makes his bones quiet. He's not as good at walking silently as you are- but if the crunch of his red Converse against the gravel bothers you, you do not have a tell.

Hobi feels like he should have asked more questions about it at the time, but now he just bites his lip and stays quiet. You'd promised. You'll tell him in time. Hobi trusts you.

That's the worst thing, isn't it? That Hobi trusts you. You've known he shouldn't since you picked up Jin's call.

Jimin is easy to find if only because he’s sitting in one of those puddles of light, leaning up against one of the containers on the ground floor. Alone. You let out a quiet whimper when you see him. You and Hobi pause in the doorway and Your hand on the gun goes slack

“Minnie!” you forget the gun and run to him, tucking it back into your waistband and falling to your knees at his side. Fingers finding water-dark fabric. Not water- blood.

Hobi stays there, his pulse thudding through his ears, an odd sort of peace to him as he takes in the details. The blood that pools dark on the dusty floor, bubbling. Jimin’s half covered with dust himself. Something wooden and red in his lap. The little bit of blood that’s dripped down his shoulder gathering there. There is a dragged-through patch of dirt a few feet away, more blood, a puddle of it. Jin is nowhere to be found.

Minnie’s eyelashes flutter. “Alpha-” you say. Almost sobbing in relief that he's alive. Alive you can handle. Alive you can work with. You bend down, getting your hand on his cheek.

“Hey pup” he murmurs, he laughs a little, half delirious with pain. He flinches like making the sound hurts him. “You came to the party" he coughs, "did you bring Tae?”

You pull back to look at him. “Tae?”

Jimin grins, eyes fluttering closed, pretty face tipped up against the light. His lips have blood on him- and it looks like a disturbing imitation of Tae’s lipstick. The shadows she leaves on your mouth, on his.

“Yeah- wanna tell her I love her. Wanna tell her that I’m sorry. Could you-" jimin's coughs overtake him, and fresh blood drips down the tips of his fingers, finding home in the soil below.

"Could you tell her for me?”

Coming Saturday December 9th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

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minustwofingers · 1 year

Text

exoplanet p.6 (ellie’s journals)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: a significantly different writing voice! this is going to be a very different vibe from the other chapters since i had to write it as i imagine ellie would (which is a lot different than i do). slight nsfw content (mdni), language, mentions of violence/gore, angst, ellie’s pov is actually really depressing

a/n: soooo i know it’s been almost 3 months...and i’m really sorry about that! a lot of stuff happened in my life and i kind of fell off writing for quite some time. but i finish series, so i’m going to get through exoplanet in its entirety so i can finally give you all closure. some preliminary notes: know that these are modeled after how i imagine ellie would journal if she did journal this much. canonically she didn’t do that much writing that follows a narrative like it does here. i think it’s honestly a little ooc for her to be emotionally responsible enough to talk out her feelings, but given that there’s no other way to tell her side of the story (save for legit rewriting it from her perspective, which would take another 6 months or so and be horrifically repetitive), i decided to just suck it up and write it. i’m sorry if it sounds awkward, since she definitely doesn’t write in a voice that i have much experience with. the next chapter will be better!

word count: 5.5k

tags~ @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28

(i haven’t updated this yet bc my tags aren’t working)

a special special SPECIAL thanks to both @roarriita and @elliesflower for being soooo sexy and betaing for me. you both are so wonderful and helped me sm in feeling good enough to post this :)

without further ado, enjoy ellie’s journals!

January 20th, 2038

Today’s been…fucking…

I don’t even know where to start. I don’t get why this sort of shit always happens to me. First it was being bit and somehow surviving. Then it was getting carted off across the country. And now some girl basically falls out of the sky, claiming that she comes from some sort of paradise up North?

I’ll spare the immediate details. I don’t think I’ll forget the basic stuff—her name, the way she looked clutching at her knees in the clearing and shaking. That stupid shirt she had on and that expensive scarf.

I still want to believe that she’s just a liar who happened to get lucky with running into us, but even without Joel vouching for her story, I don’t think I’d ever be able to buy that she’d been living in the same world as us. I’ve never met someone without scars before. I didn’t know that there were people out there who didn’t have marked up arms and faces. Or people without calluses. Did you know that hands can be totally smooth?

Anyway. Tommy says that he’ll try and reach out across the contacts he has. Joel has her living right down the hall from me in the meantime, so now I have to share my bathroom. Hopefully the Terranovan authorities are good at finding people. She takes so fucking long to shower. It’s a wonder the whole compound still has hot water.

[One page of drawings follows: Dina smiling in the snow on her horse, Joel playing his guitar]

January 25th, 2038

Maria says that they’re thinking about breeding Shimmer soon. I know she told me because that means I’ll need to ride another horse for a little until she recovers and I know that we need another generation of foals, but it still made me cringe for Shimmer’s sake. She’s too free-spirited to be a mother. She doesn’t deserve that.

I went stargazing last night. It was pretty. Lots of shooting stars. I ran into the girl while I was coming back from the meadow. She gave me a weird look, and I could tell she wanted to ask me where I’d been but kept her mouth shut. Sometimes I regret dropping off that bag of clothes. I really fucking liked that gray sweatshirt, actually. I’m not even joking. It looks weird to see it on someone else.

[Half a page of drawing follows of the night sky with labeled constellations]

February 5th, 2038

Long time no see. I’ve been pretty busy with patrols and helping Maria with securing the walls. Joel made me try some of that coffee that our new house guest brought. It was just as awful as I remembered, but he seemed happy. So one point for the space girl. I guess.

Dina’s been hanging around more. She just broke up with Jessie (yes, again). She swears that it’s for good this time, but I’m not so sure. She also talks a lot about Y/N and what little detail she’s gathered about her life back in Terranova. I thought teasing her by asking her if she had a crush on Y/N would make her talk less about it, but it just made things worse.

I miss when things were normal.

[One page of drawings follows: one of Shimmer in cross-ties, another of a girl’s face, half-finished with the face scribbled out]

February 12th, 2038

Today I’m sad. I’m in bed with that book about astronomy that Joel nabbed for me on patrol a while ago and there’s a section I wanted to read that’s completely waterlogged. It shouldn't be a surprise. It’s decades old and has survived through an apocalypse. Normally things like this don’t bug me much because I’m so used to it. Half of my Savage Starlight collection is damaged. I don’t think I’ll ever find the first book to actually complete the series, and that’s okay, because I’ve never expected anything more. But now that I know that there’s a world out there where I’d never have problems like this, stuff like this hurts. It’s so stupid. I’m lucky to be alive. Compared to what’s left of the world population, I live a much cushier life than most. But for the first time in a while, I’m wishing for more.

“Greed is the enemy of happiness” is what Maria would say if I ever said this kind of shit out loud. But is it really? Or is it just realizing what life can be?

[Half a page of a drawing of the solar system, with each planet labeled]

February 22nd, 2038

Maria let me pick the sire for Shimmer’s foal. It felt kind of gross, to be honest. I asked Maria if there was any way for Shimmer to choose and I was only sort of joking, but she just laughed anyway and patted my back. I won’t have to worry about finding a new horse for another two seasons or so, she told me. It’ll be weird not having her for a little.

She also told me that there was still no word from anyone who knew anything about Terranova. She said this to me in this placating voice, like she thought that I was going to punch a hole in the wall or something after hearing it. That seems to be common when it comes to people talking about Y/N and me. I don’t know why so many people think I don’t like her staying with us.

I don’t, by the way. Let me be clear. But I mostly feel indifferent about her now. She doesn’t bother me as much anymore, not since she started getting out of the house. I think she might be helping in the gardens, but I’ve never actually asked. We don’t talk a whole ton. I don’t think she likes me all that much.

[A drawing of Shimmer’s head poking over her stall door that takes up one page]

March 2nd, 2038

Today was finally our first nice day of the year. I would’ve enjoyed it more if the bird that lives in the tree outside my window hadn’t blown me out of bed at 4 in the fucking morning. I’m exhausted now. It’s been a long day. Joel says I need to take Y/N out on patrol soon. Why, I have no idea. Maybe he just wants me to actually befriend her or something, and I do nothing but patrols now. He can’t possibly expect her to be a good patrol partner.

Thankfully, I checked the logs when I came back. The route he wants me to cover with her has been the quietest all season. I doubt we’ll run into anything. If we do, I’ll probably be able to handle it. Hopefully.

[Half a page of doodles, mostly of nature and wildlife with the exception of a half-finished doodle of an arm clad in a fabric that drapes like silk and a hand with polished nails]

March 3rd, 2038

Many surprising things were learned today. I can’t believe it’s illegal to be gay in Terranova. Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just—out of all the things they could be bothered by, it’s that? Really?

March 12th, 2038

I haven’t been good at journaling recently. I don’t really want to talk about why. You know why.

[Six pages of drawings, with many unfinished doodles of Y/N—including but not limited to her on her horse, her reading on the couch, and one with her sitting in what is a very loose interpretation of a classroom, taking notes]

March 13th, 2038

I will feel more normal tomorrow. Hopefully.

[Two pages of drawings, all of Y/N. One is her bent over a book, the other is her smiling up at you]

March 14th, 2038

I did something really stupid. I think I should probably just document this here so I don’t accidentally drunkenly spill it all out to Dina at the next bonfire. This is so embarrassing. I don’t get why I feel this way. It’s so stupid, you know? To feel anything towards someone who’s so…I don’t know. Different.

She gives me the weirdest looks sometimes. I can’t tell what they mean. It feels like she’s judging me. And why wouldn’t she be? I bet all the girls she spends her time around back home are just like her—perfect, orderly, pretty, proper. The day before I took her patrolling she gawked at the shorts I was wearing. It was borderline offensive. Actually, fuck that. It wasn’t borderline. It was offensive. You don’t just stare at people like that. She should know that.

Anyway, I invited her over to my room last night. Normal, right? Because we’ve been doing that a little since I took her on patrol, by the way. I’m not sure if I mentioned that before. But this time I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m…I don’t know. Creepy? Strange? Scary? She told me that she thought I was intimidating. And then I called her “untouched”, like how some old-timer devout Christian wackjob or whatever would describe virginity. It was so fucking weird of me. I don’t know what got into me, but she kept doing this thing where she kicked my foot with hers or touched my knee and it just threw me off. It took me forever to fall asleep last night—I kept replaying what I’d said to her, especially how I’d told her that she wouldn’t have made it if she were me like I was some sort of hardcore survivalist. I think I embarrassed her. I’m never doing anything like this again. I’m going to be dead sober every time I see her from now on.

I’ll stop talking about that. Y/N did come back after I’d made a fool of myself and showed me her collection of movies, so maybe it wasn’t so bad. I haven’t watched any movies since I was with Cat. When we first started dating, I’d invite her over and she’d sit right where Y/N did last night. I’m trying to not think of the implications, because it’s space girl, and she’s going home sometime soon.

[Three pages of drawings follow—some nature drawings of ferns and moths, others of Y/N with wet hair, her knees tucked up to her chin like she’d been in Ellie’s bed that night]

March 19th, 2038

It’s the Spring Equinox. That’s the first thing Y/N told me this morning when she saw me in the kitchen this morning. She gave me a mini lecture on what that meant for the planet’s axis tilt and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I already knew, since she seemed really excited to tell me.

I made a horrible discovery yesterday, by the way. Maria came up to me and told me that Tommy had decided to reach out to some of his other buddies up North to see if they had any connections to Terranova, and for the first time, I felt myself hoping that it wouldn’t work.

It’s awful. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Even in Jackson, where things are comparatively much better than the rest of the world, there’s risk. Just this winter, one family had to be kicked out when they were found hiding an infected son. No one here is completely safe, just safer. I shouldn’t be selfish. Y/N needs to go where she’s meant to be, where there’s no chance of infection or invasion. I’ll be fine. I just need to get over whatever this is.

Speaking of her, I need to go get her to tell her that we’re heading out on patrol in just a few minutes. Fingers crossed she doesn’t accidentally shoot me, but Joel swore up and down that she knows how to handle a gun now. Sure. Haha.

I’m back. It’s the middle of the night and she only just left my room. I don’t know how much detail I need to go into—chances are I won’t forget this. But for bookkeeping purposes: patrol did not go so hot. I had to give her stitches without any local anesthesia. I’ve never given stitches to anyone nearly in my lap before. I was really nervous, too. I don’t think I’ve ever had to focus so much on keeping my hands steady when it came to stitching someone up before, not even with Joel.

I’m starting to think that maybe I was wrong about thinking that she didn’t like me. I still can’t tell exactly what she thinks of me, and I know that it’s a really bad fucking idea to be entertaining thoughts like these, but tonight she did something that made me reconsider. She got under the covers with me, and instead of moving away to keep us from touching, she rested her head next to mine on the pillow.

I hope she couldn’t hear how much my heart was racing. People can’t hear that kind of stuff, right? Even if they’re close?

I’m being ridiculous. There’s no way she—No. She doesn’t see me like that.

March 21st, 2038

She rested her head on my shoulder today. I don’t know what to think of it. If she was normal and grew up like the rest of us did, I would know exactly what to think. But she’s not normal, and it’s not fair of me to treat her like she is. Maybe this is, like, a culturally acceptable thing back from where she grew up. Maybe rich people just cuddle each other all the time. I wouldn’t fucking know, and unfortunately no one in this godforsaken town can help, because there’s a distinct lack of what Maria calls the “bourgeoisie”. They’re all either dead or back where Y/N grew up, doing whatever rich snobs do.

Even if it is normal for her, I feel like I can’t stop analyzing everything she does. She seems more nervous around me than she does anyone else, but she lingers like she can’t help herself. I’ve noticed that she stumbles over her words and touches me much more than is really necessary. Or at least I think she does—maybe I’m just imagining things.

But even if it means what I think it does, I can’t let myself think like this. It’s not fair to her. No one deserves to live here if they have the choice. At least the people out here know how to handle it. She doesn’t, and I don’t want her to turn into the type of person who does.

When I stitched her up and teased her about being weak and sensitive, I think she thought I was insulting her. I try not to think about it, but if I let myself wallow too much, I’ll wonder what kind of person I’d be if I wasn’t so jaded. Maybe I’d draw more, or read more, or write more. Maybe I’d be an easier person to love. I didn’t get to choose how I turned out. It just happened to me.

So if she has the choice, I’m going to do everything I can to help her make the right one. I don’t want her to be like this.

March 29th, 2038

I had a dream about Riley last night. I haven’t had one of those in years, not since I was traveling with Joel. We were back in the mall, and Riley had just turned the lights on as a surprise. I had this feeling then, like I was being given a second chance. That I could set things straight and do what was right. I woke up before I could insist that we leave.

[A drawing takes up half of the next page. It’s a crude depiction of the mall Riley turned in.]

April 4th, 2038

It’s the middle of the night again. I can’t sleep. I’m so disappointed with myself about what I did tonight with Y/N. At the time, it seemed like a really good idea. She likes me back, apparently. I was right about everything that I wrote about earlier, I guess. But it certainly doesn’t feel like I thought it would.

It’s not like there’s no part of me that isn’t thrilled that she feels the same way. That’s why I gave in and slept with her. But even when she told me how she felt, even before I completely lost my self-control, something heavy was already hanging over me. Regret, maybe. Or guilt. I don’t know. What I do know is that this can’t last. I can’t make this good for her like I want to. She needs to go back, and she needs to be able to feel like she can make that choice without feeling like she’s leaving anything good behind.

I’m not a spiritual person. but even so, I can’t help but feel like that dream of Riley was a sign. This is my second chance. I’m not going to fuck it up this time. I’ve already been an accomplice of so much suffering. Y/N is going home, and I’ll never see her again when she does. That’s that.

It took all I had left in me in the end to kick her out. She looked so hurt, and the fact that she tried to hide it made it even worse. I wish I could tell her why this can’t work, but I don’t think she’d understand.

[A drawing of Y/N kissing Ellie’s palm follows, her hair slightly mussed]

April 6th, 2038

I need to stop making rash decisions like knocking on her door late at night and asking her to come over. I really don’t know what’s gotten into me, because whenever I see her now, I can’t help but freeze up. Like last night, when she kissed me and touched my face and told me she thought I was a good person. I panicked and told her—well, nevermind. I don’t really want to repeat it here. It was mean, but I didn’t know what else I could do to get her to stop.

She was already tearing up by the time she left. I had to sit down and breathe deeply for a few minutes before I was sure I wasn’t going to be sick. I don’t really think I want to write more about this right now. It just makes me sad how unfair this all is. Of course the one time after Cat that I meet someone I really like it just has to be in one of the cruelest scenarios possible. I just have no idea what to do.

[Five pages of drawings follow of Y/N in bed, her head tilted back against the pillow, her eye’s half lidded, and her mouth slightly agape. Ellie redraws this multiple times, x-ing out parts that don’t seem quite right]

April 10th, 2038

I know this is none of my business, but she’s been spending a lot of time with Dina lately. She nearly got herself killed getting a gift for me with Dina yesterday, which feels like some sort of especially cruel joke. The universe isn’t being very fucking subtle right now.

If what I’m worried about is right, at least Dina has the option to come with her up North. She’d test negative.

April 20th, 2038

I would really like it if I could have one short break from the misery that’s my life right now. I turned 20 yesterday, accidentally introduced Y/N to my ex, proceeded to get much drunker than I meant to, completely fell off my rocker and asked Y/N to stay the night, and then discovered this morning that not only has Terranova found Y/N but that my strategy of keeping Y/N at arm’s length completely failed.

She wants me to come with her, and she’s threatening to stay here otherwise. I did the only thing that I could think to do and snapped at her.

I’m so tired of this. I hate having to act like I don’t care. This is the third time now that I’ve had to say something nasty to her to keep her from getting too close. I just want to get in bed and sleep until she leaves and I can pretend like nothing ever happened and that everything is normal.

[One page of drawings of Y/N passed out in her bed and Y/N grinning while holding a lopsided cake]

April 28th, 2038

I know I haven’t been writing much again. Sorry about that. I just can’t bear to think about my life right now. I know I should be relieved—this is what I wanted. I wanted her to go where it’s best for her.

But there’s still that selfish part of me that keeps me up at night. Y/N is going to leave this place never knowing how I feel about her. Logically, that should be what I want. This way I won’t need to say a real goodbye. I know I won’t need to now, since she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. It’s really fucking immature of me to be so hurt by what she must think of me now, but I can’t stop.

I wonder how long it will take for me to stop feeling sad about this. I’ve never had to process anything like this where there’s nothing I can do. With Riley and Sam, I at least got to heal from the knowledge that I was going to help make the vaccine to save the world. But losing Y/N just because of where we come from is totally meaningless. I can go forward knowing that I made it easy for her to make the right decision, but that only goes so far.

I don’t know how I’m going to handle this. I’m going to practically live with Dina so I don’t need to be alone for the first few weeks.

I wish May 8th would just come already so she can go away and I can get on with my life.

May 1st, 2038

Things have changed some. Joel cornered me in the kitchen last night and told me that I needed to grow up and just appreciate the rest of the time I had left with Y/N. I was going to agree and try to walk past him, but he stopped me and told me that he needed me to escort Y/N. I guess he’s right. She can’t go alone, and Joel and Tommy are getting a little too old for week-long expeditions into the wilderness.

He also told me that I need to apologize to her and make things right, saying shit like I’d regret it forever if things ended between us like this. I don’t want to admit it, but I think he’s right. When I told him that she’d originally threatened to stay if I didn’t go with her, he blinked, hard. Then he told me that he had an idea.

I’m faking it. I’m telling her that I’m going, even though I’m going to leave her when she gets picked up. I don’t know how I’m going to pull it off. When I told her in the meadow last night, she was so happy. I know it’s really sappy and cliche to say this, but I felt my heart shatter, bit by bit. I’m not a very good liar, not to people who are important to me. But I suppose I’ve been lying to her all this time, kicking her out of my room and telling her that I didn’t want anything more with her.

I can do this, I think. I have to do this, or else she might threaten to stay, and I don’t think I have it in me to be cruel again. Not to her. I guess I’ll just trick myself into feeling like I’m actually coming with her, like we have a chance of actually being together. I don’t know. We’ll see.

[One drawing of Y/N laying down in the meadow that takes up half a page]

May 3rd, 2038

It’s easier than I expected. Y/N sleeps over in my room at night, and if I don’t think too hard about it, I can pretend like things will always be like this.

I’m getting to be such a sap, though. I almost broke down in the bathroom today while I was getting ready. It was over the stupidest thing—a toothpaste bottle. Y/N always folds it so neatly, making a perfect, tight spiral of plastic near the end. It used to really bother me when I first had to share with her (because who does that—it’s weird and doesn’t do anything since she doesn’t manage to squeeze out the extra in the bottom anyways), but the thought of throwing it out when it finally emptied and having to find another one that’ll never be folded again hit me and suddenly I was counting my inhales and exhales. I don’t really give a shit about toothpaste. It’s just that it was the moment that I realized that she’s really going to be gone soon, you know? Slowly but surely, the evidence of her stay here will be wiped away and replaced. Someday I’ll forget all the little details about her.

She’s knocking on my door. I need to stop being so depressed and go see her before she picks up that something’s wrong.

[One small doodle of Y/N smiling and rolling her eyes while brushing her teeth]

May 6th, 2038

Dina’s coming now. Y/N told me this morning after she went to say goodbye. I feel really shitty about this. I guess I should tell her that I’m not going now, because this way Y/N needs to go home to get Dina the help she needs, but I just can’t bring myself to. I’ll have to escort both of them to the pickup spot anyway since Dina’s weaker now that she’s pregnant, and the thought of having to spend a full week with Y/N after she knew I lied to her makes my skin crawl. I can’t tell who I’m trying to protect by doing this—me or her. Maybe both.

I’m losing my two favorite people here, and they don’t even know it yet. But this is the best option. This is my chance to finally do some good in the world.

May 7th, 2038

I’m about to go stargazing with Y/N for the last time. I don’t think I’ll be writing in here again until I get back. I don’t want to risk losing this while I’m out in case something crazy happens. Which it probably will, but I canonically happen to be really good at living when shit hits the fan. Also—I don’t imagine Y/N to be a particularly nosy person, but if she ever came across this and thought it was a book or something, it would make things really awkward. So, you’re staying tucked carefully under my bed until I come back later this month.

I don’t know how to handle this sort of goodbye. I don’t really know how to handle any sort of goodbye, I guess, but at least I’ve been through them before. I may not do it well, but I know how to live when people I love die. But this isn’t like that. No one is dying (hopefully), and more importantly, I know it’s a goodbye this time. I see it coming on the horizon and I can’t even tell anyone about it. How does anyone deal with that? How does anyone cope?

Y/N’s knocking on my door now. I need to go before I start thinking even more and do something stupid like start crying or whatever.

I’ll be back in about two weeks.

June 1st, 2038

Sorry for not writing. It’s been pretty shitty, actually. It took me 5 extra days to get home because some scavengers gave me trouble. I hardly slept for most of them. I ran out of ammo about 4 days out and had to use my knife for everything I ran into until I was able to raid the cabinets of this abandoned cabin. Nearly got taken out by a clicker, too. It was not fun. It was especially not fun because I was not feeling super great to begin with, for obvious reasons.

Things haven’t gotten any better since getting back to Jackson. Y/N didn’t take her stupid Exoplanetary Systems textbook and now I’m struggling with whether or not I should throw it out. The rational side of me says to keep it because it was published after the outbreak and probably contains updated information that isn’t anywhere else. The rest of me doesn’t even want to look at the stars anymore because it reminds me of her.

It’s really hard not to blame her for ruining everything. I can’t go out and ride my own horse without thinking about the first time we went on patrol together and she dropped my gun and nearly killed one of us. And I can’t even relax in my own home, because I’ve spent almost every night with her since March in my bed. Sometimes when I hear a creak in the middle of the night I assume it’s her walking down to the bathroom or getting water until it hits me again that she’s never coming back.

I know I’m being melodramatic. There are many other worse problems I could be having right now. But I don’t even have my best friend anymore. I wonder if Dina and Y/N are angry with me for lying. I wonder if they’re settling in okay. I hope that Y/N manages to fix whatever her research was and that Dina gets better.

[Twenty pages of drawings of Y/N and Dina together. Some are snippets of them on their expedition to the pickup site. Others are pictures of Y/N and Dina walking around with smiles on their faces in what looks to be a city]

June 21st, 2038

It’s been over a month since I’ve last seen her. I had a breakdown while getting ready for bed when I realized that I didn’t remember what her voice sounded like anymore.

[Ten pages of half-finished drawings, each with its face scribbled over]

June 28th, 2038

I don’t think I really remember what she looks like—not exactly. I’ve been trying to draw her because I’m still in the habit of making decisions that are definitely not good for my mental state. I just can’t do it, and it isn’t for the lack of trying. Every time I get to her eyes I keep drawing something that looks wrong, but I can never tell why. I compare it to my earlier drawings of her from when we first met and it feels like meeting her for the first time again.

Joel says it’ll pass and that he’s proud of me for doing the right thing. Jessie and I have been hanging out more. Even if he won’t admit it, I can tell he’s miserable without Dina. But he understands why she had to go—just like how I feel about Y/N. And Dina too, of course. Jackson feels like a ghost town without her.

July 17th, 2038

I haven’t been writing or drawing in here for a while, I know. I was going to just go ahead and start a new journal—you know the one that Maria gave me for Christmas with the dark blue cover—but it didn’t feel right to just stop without explaining. Otherwise I’ll feel like an asshole for wasting so much paper.

I don’t want to move on from what happened with Y/N and Dina. I really don’t, but I don't think I have a choice. If I keep going on like this, I’ll never be able to live normally again. I’m just sick and tired of being sad all of the time. So I’m not going to write here anymore. I don’t think it’s realistic for me to forget all about it, because I don’t want to forget her. Not really. But I guess if I want to get better, I’ll need something different. So, here’s that. The beginning of my fresh start. “Fresh start” and you call me overdramatic!! haha. Y/N was here!

(You left this on your nightstand. I promise I didn’t read too much. I opened it because I thought it was your sketchbook. I’m going to put this back since I hear you walking down the hall now.)

ok as an aside my blog is broken so my stuff isn’t notifying people when i tag/showing up on dashes or in tags. please reblog if you’re comfortable so people can actually find this! thank you!

final a/n: i totally get it if this wasn’t quite your cup of tea this time—i just really wanted to iron out ellie’s pov before their reunion in the end. which is happening and not a spoiler because i have always promised a hea! this was a change in pace for the story and i promise you that the next chapter will be more normal/align more with my normal writing style. i have also changed my mind (probably) and have decided to stick with writing an epilogue! so two more chapters are coming before this is totally over. thank you so much for waiting and being so patient! i love you all dearly ok bye bye now

#ellie williams x reader #exoplanet #not adding tags because i’ll eventually repost #this is just for people who want to read!

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agentstarkid · 8 months

Text

REDAMANCY ✦ DR3

“The essence of "redamancy", when loving someone, resides in finding oneself wholeheartedly committed to another person. It involves investing time, effort, and emotions to build a relationship based on trust, empathy, and understanding. Redamancy emphasizes the idea of love in its purest form, where both individuals feel valued, supported, and cherished by one another. In this context, loving someone through redamancy means having an unwavering appreciation and admiration for their unique qualities and accepting them as they are, flaws and all. It entails fostering a deep emotional bond that brings joy, warmth, and fulfillment to both individuals involved. Love, translated through redamancy, is an enriching experience that nourishes and uplifts the lives of those involved, creating a sense of security, happiness, and contentment.”

✦ pairing: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ type: social media au

✦ fc: becky g

✦ warnings: female!reader, covid-19 & quarantine mentions, age gap, language, slight mention of mature themes.

✦ pit wall live: holi babes! WE'RE OFFICIALLY DONE WITH 2020! 🥳 Tomorrow is my birthday and I'm feeling festive so this is a gift from me to you guys! Thank you for all the love and support 💖 if you haven't already left me one, please consider leaving me a comment to let me know if this whole thing at least makes a bit of sense (I crave validation, guys lmao) and my inbox is always open! I'm super excited for you to get to know Girlie a little bit better! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter because I sure did enjoy making those edits, don't they look so fucking cuteeeeee??? 😩💕

p.s.: keep an eye out for a name that could be important in the future 👀

─── The Joker & The Queen (Masterlist)

SEPTEMBER 9, 2020

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SEPTEMBER 13, 2020

f1gossipofficial

♡ 2,345 likes

f1gossipofficial NEW WAG ALERT 🚨 After months of speculations, we can finally see them together! Daniel and Y/N arrived at the paddock for the Tuscan GP today and it's fair to say, she knows how to make an entrance 🔥 It's the first time Ricciardo introduces a WAG to the paddock 🥰

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user she's wearing heels and he's still a head taller than her 🥺 THEIR HEIGHT DIFFERENCE IS TOO FUCKING CUTE 😭❤️

user she's just a smol 🤏🏻 cinnamon roll ❤️

user2 🐍🐍🐍🐍

user3 what the fuck is she wearing? 😂 she needs to hire a stylist because she looks like a fucking clown. This reflects badly on Daniel 🤮

user she's serving Y2K style 🔥🔥🔥 also why tf would it reflect badly on him the way she dresses??? 🙄 I think she looks gorgeous!

user4 They have been together since January, but the picture of them walking next to each other is like they don't even know each other 😂

user5 can't believe Daniel hasn't dump her unfaithful ass yet 🙄 she must be really good at the things that she does on the mattress 🤮

user the only thing she's probably worth for, he might as well take advantage of it Imao

user6 The amount of hate this girl receives when all she does is just appear, no one knows her personally but ends up throwing opinions based on her looks and a couple of tabloids. Lol. Fangirls are crazy! 😂

user7 noone does it like her 😘

user8 lol he deserves so much better 🤢🐍

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yourinstagram has added to their story!

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OCTOBER 6, 2020

yourinstagram has added to their story!

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danielricciardo has added to their story!

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OCTOBER 11, 2020

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yourinstagram

♡ liked by rubendias, iamcardib, danielricciardo and 8,452,325 others

yourinstagram When your birthday gift includes a podium finish you know it's gonna be an unforgettable experience! 🤩 Every year I grow I'm reminded of how precious this life is, thank you all for helping me fill it up with so much love. Your kind words and constant support means everything to me. Thank you so so so much 💕

Don't say it, don't say it, OKAY I'm saying it: I'M FEELING 22!! 😘

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salmahayek Happy birthday hermosa ❤️

danielricciardo Who needs a four-leaf clover when I've got you by my side? Just call me Danny Ricc, the luckiest bloke around! 😎

taylorswift Everything will be alright if we just keep dancing like we're 22! 🥳 Happy happy birthday my angel! There was happiness because of you 🥰

user stop acting all innocent we all know you are a fucking slut

userA yourinstagram we can tell by all the guys you let into your bed 👀

florencepugh Happy birthday to a special soul ❤️

fioamato Happiest 22nd year babe! Wish we could be together to celebrate. Te amo un mundo ❤️

sofiareyes Feliz vida reinotaaaa! 🥳🥰

user2 sos una gran ridícula 🐍

user3 stop shoving it in our faces every 5 minutes jesus christ, we already know the only way you can stay relevant is fucking your way through talented people

reesewhiterspoon Happy birthday to my favorite resident loud persona!

jvn Happiest birthday babe! Becoming friends with you has shown me a strength & kindness that is v rare. You're brave, smart AF, and the talent is next level & quite literally iconic. Grateful to know you & call you a frand!! Love you to pieces Queen! xx

llane Feliz cumpleaños hermanita 🎂 te deseo muchas bendiciones! ❤️

lilymhe as a wise woman once said: It seems like one of those nights, we ditched the whole scene and end up dreaming, instead of sleeping 💘✨

user4 Oh I didn't know it was international snakes day 🐍😂

lewishamilton happy birthday sis 💜 hope you had lots of fun x

instagram birthdays and F1 races make a winning combo

user5 I hope you are aware you're just a bed-warmer until he finds something better 😂

user6 Those who are throwing her hate, is everything okay at home? You must all be excellent people and role models 😂

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NOVEMBER 01, 2020

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NOVEMBER 16, 2020

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NOVEMBER 28, 2020

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DECEMBER 18-21, 2020

iamdannaschwarz has added to their story!

corey_wilson has added to their story!

itsvittoriasousa has added to their story!

fioamato has added to their story!

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DECEMBER 25, 2020

danielricciardo

📍Los Angeles, California

♡ liked by yourinstagram, natalie_pinkham, pierregasly and 5,242 others

danielricciardo Merry christmas to all, ya filthy animals! From me and my snuggle buddy 🎄 We've been good... mostly! 😝

Tagged: yourinstagram, corey_wilson, lukerockhold

View all 8,345 comments

yourinstagram Merry Christmas from our reindeer crew! ❤️🎄

danielricciardo Santa's got it easy this year, because I've already found the perfect gift 😘

natalie_pinkham Cuties ❤️ Merry christmas guys! Sending you all the love ❤️🎄

user THEY LOOK SO FUCKING GOOD UGHH 😍

user1 she's gonna be his downfall 🤢

f1 Merry Christmas to our favorite honey badger 🦨🍯❤️

user2 please Daniel check your eyesight 😭 I mean what did you even see in Y/N

kristenanniebell Merry christmas, guys! Sending lots of love from ours to yours ❤️

user3 La pareja más bonita 😍😍 Merry christmas to us with that first photo

scottyjames31 this got me cheesing hard... I'm a bit worried for Santa if those are his reindeers though 😳

user4 Daniel!! RUN!! Don't get too close to her... she's fucking poison!! Everything she touches rots away 🐍🐍🐍

user5 MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS!! Santa should be delivering my adoption papers to you any moment now ❤️🙈

fabioquartararo20 Merry christmas brother! 🥂❤️

user6 who else lives through celebrities holiday posts? Buon Natale, Daniel and Y/N 💚

user7 dude, based on the recent news lately popping up on my feed (that I did not even care to know about), I hope you get yourself to an std clinic to get tested. I see you are in your russian roulet phase- no judgement. sincerely, I wish you the best

user8 this comment section reeks of jealousy it does not pass the vibe check at. all. 😤😤😤 it's fucking christmas guys, what the fuck is wrong with y'all leave them the fuck alone!

user9 they are so many wonderful and interesting people in the world, but you chose Y/N... disappointing. You could sincerely do so much better

user10 Love it or hate it, they are living their best life. Haters can keep commenting, but they're just a bunch of jealous basic bitches lmao ANYWAYS, MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS! Keep being fucking iconic! ❤️

user11 To all the haters out there, keep commenting. Love knows no bounds and Daniel deserves exactly who he's chosen 😘

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DECEMBER 31, 2020

yourinstagram

♡ liked by lilymhe, rubendias, greeicy and 10,652,485 others

yourinstagram Moving towards 2021 with a better mindset. Keep practicing kindness every day, guys! 💖🤗🤭

View all 15,921 comments

itsvittoriasousa Queen of positivity 💁🏻‍♀️💗😘

user lmao omg love this video 🤭 such good vibes

blakelively ❤️❤️❤️

zendaya the vibes are immaculate 💅🏻

lali Y QUE SE CALLE EL DECORADO 😝 Te adoro nena ❤️

user1 No me canso de verlo 😂

iamdannaschwarz A lot of palo santo to cleanse, purify and remove all negativity 🪔🧿😌🤍

user2 Por qué tan hermosaaaaaa 😍😍😍

user3 It's the palo santo and the big echeveria for me lol

user4 Love your attitude

karolg Positively divinaaa! Toda una BICHOTA 💁🏻‍♀️💗

user5 Keep it up, Queen!! Let your light blind all those negative nellies 😌 You're shinning brighter than the sun ☀✨

user6 you can't tell me her and Dan are not meant to be 😂 I bet they are so much fun to be around 🤭

─── Please don't forget to reblog and comment! ♡

#the joker and the queen fic #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo instagram au #daniel ricciardo social media au #f1 social media au #latina!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #daniel ricciardo x female reader #( agentstarkid's works )

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 11 months

Text

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Prologue

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Prologue Word Count: 4001 Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

~~~

You released a tired, relieved sigh as you and the rest of the team exited the elevator and walked back into the bullpen. You'd just landed back after a week in Utah chasing a serial killer who turned out to be a mormon. He killed in the name of burning out the false children of God from humanity - literally. The Unsub managed to burn six innocent people alive before they apprehended him.

'I cannot wait to go home for a hot bath and a good glass of scotch,' Rossi said, rubbing at the kink in his neck from the sleep home on the plane.

'Ditto,' Alex said. 'James is home for the weekend, and he has promised me some home made pie that I am very much looking forward to.'

You smiled as you reached your desk, the echo of the others adding to the conversation of what they were looking forward to when they got home warming the usually busy room as they passed you. A sense of comfort and relief washed over you as you placed your go-bag on your desk. Hearing all your friends' voices back in the office after a mission was never a guarantee, so you relished every time you heard them, regardless of the conversation.

You looked up when a figure entered your peripheral vision, and that comfort and warm feeling spread further through you when you saw who it was.

'What about you, Y/N?' Spencer said by way of greeting, a soft smile gracing his own tired features. 'What is waiting for you at home on this fine Friday evening?'

You paused to think about it for a second, a content smile tugging at your lips at the thought. 'Well, unless I've been robbed in the last few days, I will be enjoying a nice glass of moscato while I order pasta from the restaurant below my apartment, and snuggle in with my book that I've spent literally months trying to finish,' you said dreamily, the thought of good food and good wine and a good book sounding almost too good to be true. But Garcia had informed the team before landing that no new cases had been submitted and so you had the weekend to yourselves.

'That all?' he asked, amusement dancing on his lips.

You chuckled, shaking your head. 'I know. First Friday night home in DC in a while and I am choosing to stay at home instead. The utter shame of it all.'

You both laughed, and it pleased you to see his amber eyes light up after the long week you'd had.

'I didn't mean that as a bad thing,' Spencer said, brushing a stray curl from out of his eyes. Even though it was the shortest length it'd ever been, some rogue curls still managed to dangle out of confinement every once in a while. 'What book are you reading?'

'Don't laugh at me, but... The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.'

Spencer's brow furrowed curiously. 'Why would I laugh? I love Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work.'

You shrugged, casually leaning against your desk as you crossed your arms. 'I know, it just seems a little silly that a federal agent is reading some old detective stories.'

'Actually, Doyle was one of the forefathers of detective fiction, as he brought in the concept that the science of deduction isn't just physical evidence but psychological observations. He created a space where all the sciences we know today can help in solving crime, and actually paved the way for more psychological avenues to be taken more seriously in academia and law enforcement. If you think about it, without Sherlock, you and I may not have our jobs as profilers right now.' Spencer paused when he realised he was rambling, and despite your soft, encouraging smile, he saw the tired blankness in your eyes.

Spencer licked his lips before speaking again. 'What I'm trying to say is... I don't think it's silly at all.'

You nodded your thanks although you knew you didn't need to. 'So what about you?', you asked in return. 'What will entertain Dr. Spencer Reid on this "fine Friday evening"?'

His words repeated back to him kept the smile on his face, more importantly the life in his eyes. But he began to fiddle with the strap of his satchel bag, and you couldn't help but notice he slightly swayed. Like he was nervous or something. It was cute.

He was cute.

You forced the rising heat in your cheeks to stay underneath the surface to not give away your embarrassment or your inner thoughts. Thoughts you'd been having since the day you'd met him six years ago. Thoughts that you'd suppressed so as to not interfere with your work, and then later so it wouldn't ruin your hard-built friendship.

When he told you about Maeve, you'd had mixed feelings. Of course, you'd been ecstatic for him that he'd found someone he could be himself with, and even more so when he disclosed to you that no one else knew about her - just you. But you couldn't deny the twinge of sadness that pulled at your heart knowing that that someone he could be himself with wasn't you.

But you hadn't hesitated, hadn't faltered when he'd needed a shoulder to cry on when Maeve was killed. Once he decided to open up and accept help, you were first in line to help keep the young doctor afloat in his sea of grief and loss.

It's been over a year since Maeve's death now, and while she would always remain important in his heart, he had, for the most part, moved on, slowly getting back to be his usual, quirky, logical self.

The past year and a bit has only brought you two closer together, and as much as you have tried to hide how amazing that makes you feel, you've had plenty of conversations with Penelope and others on the team about finally asking the boy wonder out. It's not like you didn't want to, but if Maeve was his type of girl, you just weren't sure you were what Spencer was looking for in a romantic partner. Besides, you were happy with your friendship.

It was by far the most precious relationship you had aside from your family - why ruin it?

You quickly realised you'd both been silent for a while, Spencer still not having answered your question yet. 'Spence?' you prompted gently.

The cute doctor managed to grasp his satchel strap fiercely and ground himself back in the present. 'R-Right. I too have a book at home. The one you got me for my birthday, actually.'

'Oh yes!' The Shining Girls by Lauren Beukes. You'd been hooked from the first line, and by the time you finished, all you could think about was how much you thought Spencer would enjoy it. So you instantly wrapped up your own personal copy and waited for Spencer's birthday to roll around. You never told him it was yours, you just hoped he didn't notice the slight bend in the spine or minuscule tears in some pages from you flipping them too quickly. 'I've been meaning to ask you if you enjoyed it or not. I just assumed you'd read it already.'

'We've just been so busy with cases lately. I haven't had time to even consider picking it up.'

You rolled your eyes. 'Come on, we both know you could've finished that book on one of our plane rides.'

He shrugged, eyes dipping for a moment before landing back on you. 'I know. I guess... I just wanted to give it the time and attention it deserved,' he settled on, and the honesty in both his words and his eyes threatened to steal your breath.

A silence that rested between comfortable and awkward settled upon you two. This had happened many times in recent weeks although you weren't quite sure why. Regardless of your hidden feelings and the tragedy of Maeve, neither of you lost your comfortability with one another.

'So... we've both got book dates tonight,' you said in an attempt to break the silence. The rest of the team was still chatting just a little away from them, but it felt like it was just the two of you sometimes when you talked.

'Well, actually, maybe...' Spencer started, and his fingers were twitching again. 'I was wondering if maybe you'd want t-to bring your book over and... join me, tonight.'

The request wasn't an unusual one. In fact, you'd conducted your own mini book club between the two of you on plenty of occasions. Mainly because you both found out you were the kind of people that liked your personal time and space, but didn't like the thought of being completely alone. This wasn't new, but it warmed your heart all the same at the gesture.

'That sounds great, Spence!' you said heartily. 'Give me half an hour and I'll be around at yours-'

'Actually,' Spencer interrupted, 'I was thinking we could grab some dinner together first. You know, like at a restaurant or some place you can sit in at.'

'...Like a date?' you asked softly, breathlessly. The words just kind of slipped from you before you even contemplated how they would affect Spencer. It just felt natural and right.

Your heart pounded like a jackhammer between your ribs, but you were more concerned at what expression Spencer would pull in the next five seconds.

To your relief, he smiled that small little smile of his that spoke volumes of his insecurity but also of his genuine intentions. 'Yeah. I guess it is like a date,' he finally replied.

Oh my goodness. He was nervous. His words were rushed and higher-pitched in tone. but you still managed to understand him, as well as what dinner implied.

A half-smile pulled at your lips. 'Dr. Spencer Reid,' you began softly, half-scared, half-excited to speak the words you'd been holding back for so long. 'Are you asking me out on a date right now?'

At your words, his anxiety seemed to disappear, as he stopped fidgeting with the satchel strap and took a daring step closer to you. 'I guess I am.'

You couldn't stop it now, the smile of pure joy you'd been holding back from splitting your face open. After years of suffering silently, of repressing the truth, it was all worth it for that one question.

'So what do you say, SSA Y/N L/N,' he quipped cheekily. 'Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?'

The answer was right there in the tip of your tongue, almost spewing from you, when your name was called out across the bullpen for all to hear.

The globe of silence and serenity that had built around Spencer and yourself suddenly shattered as you both, alongside the rest of the team, turned to Hotch standing in his office doorway. But while you all looked at him, his hard gaze was honed in on you.

'L/N,' he called again, having your attention now. 'Can I see you in my office, please?'

You looked between him and Spencer, unsure who to answer first. In the end, you were still technically on the clock so you nodded at your boss and said, 'Sure, I'll be in there shortly.'

'This can't wait, I'm sorry.'

It was the seriousness and discomfort in his voice that caused you to throw aside your personal agenda, giving Spencer an apologetic look before quickly making your way through the bullpen, up the stairs and into his office. You tried not to look at your team too much as you did, but you felt their gazes on the back of your head nevertheless.

They were just as confused as you were, then.

'Close the door,' Hotch instructed gently, to which you obliged. He pointed to the seat on the other side of his desk. 'Have a seat.'

'Everything okay, Hotch?' you asked, taking a seat in the chair. 'Oh no. Did I make an error in one of my reports again?'

'No, nothing like that,' he reassured you, which didn't help your already built up worry. For a moment, it was just you two sitting in his office in silence; you waited for him to explain his mysterious actions, while he seemed to struggle to find the right words.

He never struggled to find the right words.

You leaned forward in your seat, worry furrowing your brow. 'Hotch. What's wrong?'

'Nothing is wrong, so to say,' he insisted, but his frown remained. 'I've just been in contact with your old unit chief from Organised Crime. They believe there is an underground operation being conducted by gang leaders in Manhattan that involves the transporting, selling and purchasing of girls and women in the prostitute industry.'

'Okay,' you drawled out, more confused than ever. 'What has this got to do with us?'

'It doesn't,' Hotch answered immediately. 'Just you. Your old unit chief wants you back to go undercover in the case.'

'What?' You stood up from your seat instead of shouting, but goodness it took all your strength not to. 'Why do they need me? They have a whole squadron of agents to choose from.'

'They want a profiler to help them find out who these people are first, then go undercover and become part of the operation's inner circle and report back to them,' Hotch explained, although his tone displayed his displeasure in saying so. 'Y/N, you have more experience in undercover missions than anyone else on this team, even before you joined us as a profiler.'

You knew his words to be true, but the reality of it all was an ever-growing weight on your chest. 'What they are asking, Hotch, could take weeks, months even. Those kind of people will not trust so easily,' you tried reasoning with him.

You couldn't help but look through the blinds to your team still standing and talking outside in the bullpen. To Spencer, who had joined the team since you had left, but just looked at the window as if he could find out what was going on behind the glass and blinds if he looked long enough. It broke your heart to think you wouldn't see him for months, maybe even years.

Because that was the thing with undercover missions. Once you assumed the life of someone else, your old life became non-existent. That meant no contact with anyone outside of the case as a safety precaution.

That meant no talking to Spencer, or anyone in the BAU, until the case ended. Or unless you were killed, in which case you wouldn't be able to do a lot of talking anyways.

You turned back around at the sound of Hotch standing from his seat and coming around the desk to speak directly in front of you, no walls to hide behind. 'You know I wouldn't be asking if I hadn't tried to change their mind first. But even I can't argue that you are the best agent for the job.'

You nodded your understanding even if you hated to admit he was right. 'I guess it's not one of those jobs that I can decline, is it?'

Hotch shook his head regrettably. 'Head Chief requested for you personally. You've already been taken off the roster here at the BAU so you're not disturbed by other cases.'

Hearing that was just rubbing salt in the wound, and you hated the burning feeling of tears rising at the back of your eyes. You were already gone from here, like a ghost that didn't realise she was one to begin with.

Hotch's hand rested heavy on your shoulder as he comforted you. 'We can discuss your return to work when your mission is over. You will always have a place with us, Y/N.'

You attempted a smile, but it was strained as you tried to force back tears. You wiped at the strays that dribbled down your cheeks, pulling yourself back together before speaking again. 'All right. How long do I have before I am expected in the Big Apple?'

'There's someone waiting for you at your apartment already. They'll take you to their headquarters when you're done packing tonight.'

You sucked in air as you felt your whole world tilt unstably. Tonight. You had to leave tonight. Again, you found yourself seeking out Spencer through the half-closed blinds.

'So what do you say, SSA Y/N L/N? Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?'

You bit your lip as you blinked your tears away, trying but failing to ignore the cry of your heart as its strings were pulled harshly. 'Tonight?' you asked in the hope you'd misheard.

But no such hope existed, unfortunately.

'Yes,' Hotch said, that one word the final nail in the coffin of your impending suffering. 'I'm sorry. This goes without saying, but don't mention any of this to the team as you leave. Only myself and Section Chief Cruz will know where you are and the details of your mission.'

You huffed out a joyless laugh. 'Hiding truths from a team of profilers is like playing poker with a mirror attached to your face,' you said, and you didn't bother to hide your displeasure and sadness when you did. 'They're going to ask questions, and they will find out the truth eventually.'

'Let me worry about that,' Hotch said gently, letting go of you and leaving a cold mark where his hand once was. 'You've got bags to pack.'

'Right.' You sucked in a few deep breaths before making your way to the door. tears burned at your eyes again but you couldn't let the team see you like this. You couldn't let Spencer see you like this.

Because you had a job to do. And you always finished a job.

Before you could open the door handle, however, Hotch stopped you once more. 'Y/N.'

You looked at him, forcing an expression of blankness and indifference. 'Yes, sir?'

He must've seen your inner struggle, as he offered one of those genuine smiles of his that were oh so rare. 'We'll see you when you get back,' he said.

It wasn't a promise or a done deal, but it was the most hope you could ask for right now. So you smiled your thanks, nodded your goodbye, and opened the door back into the bullpen.

Immediately, all eyes set upon you and the room grew quiet. Your first instinct was to cry, then to run, then to blurt everything out because you hated keeping secrets. But you remembered what had just been said, and you whipped a bright smile onto your face to hide your despair.

'Don't you guys have homes to go to?' you asked cheerily, walking down the stairs as casually as possibly. You would've bee-lined for your bag, but if you moved too quickly they would suspect something. 'I recall hot baths and scotch were awaiting most of us, are they not?'

Thankfully Rossi took the bait, and picked up his go-bag in a huge huff. 'The lady is right. I spend enough time with you people as is, I am not wasting anymore not drinking and soaking.'

'Soaking in what? The bath or scotch?' JJ asked, also picking up her go-bag to make her way back to the elevator.

The group devolved into laughs and other jests, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you picked up your go-bag and followed them. Before you could though, a gentle call of your name halted you in your tracks, out of both politeness and frozen fear.

'Hey,' Spencer started, looking between you and Hotch's office. 'What was all that about?'

'Oh, uh, nothing super important,' you said, scrambled as you words were. 'Just a paperwork issue. Again.'

He broke out in smile that set your heart aflutter despite your inner turmoil. 'You know, you really shouldn't do paperwork on the plane when you're tired if you're just going to make a mistake. You're better off leaving it to the morning when your brain and body has rested enough to comprehend what the paperwork is asking of you.'

'Well sorry if I don't want to do a mountain of paperwork when I come back into the office,' you countered, grateful for the playful distraction as you made it over to the elevator. The others were just piling in when Spencer halted you again.

'So...' he dragged out, eyes flickering between you and teh floor nervously, '...what do you say?'

'To what?' you asked.

'To dinner. You didn't have time to give me an answer before.'

Shit. Your voice failed you now as you grasped at words - any words - to tell him. Your heart screamed yes, but there was someone waiting for you back home. A home you wouldn't be visiting for who knows how long.

Capitalising on your gaping mouth, you forced out a yawn and feigned covering it up out of embarrassment. 'Oh my goodness, sorry about that. Um, actually, now that you mention it, I am pretty beat. I'm just... going to go home and sleep it off if that's all right.'

It pained you to see his smile drop at your words, to see the hope leave his beautiful eyes at your rejection. And you knew you shouldn't say anything or make promises you couldn't keep, but you couldn't just leave him with no hope.

'Maybe next week sometime,' you offered, hoping your smile could bring some of that light back. 'You know, you've never tried the Italian Restaurant under my apartment before. We could go there. On me.'

Instinctively, you reached for his hand, relishing in the warmth it held and brought into you. To your relief, he didn't pull away. Instead, you got your smile back, and a little light returned to his eyes. You were kind of glad you wouldn't be around when the light left him completely.

'Okay,' he said softly, surprising you with a gentle squeeze of your hand in his. 'It's a date.'

'Yeah,' you replied, trying and failing to push aside the fluttering sensation his words gave your heart. You were only prolonging not only your pain, but his.

Selfish. So selfish.

'Come on, you two,' Derek called out from the elevator. 'I can't hold these doors open forever. Savannah will kill me if I miss our dinner reservations.'

You both quickly made it in to the elevator before Derek let them close on you, and then you were caught up in the chaos that was your team. You weren't sure how you got onto the topic of what scotch goes best with what foods, but you didn't care. It made you happy to know they never let the weight of a dark case get in the way of living their own lives to them fullest.

You all reached the car park and before you could make a run for your car, Spencer called out to you. 'See you Monday, Y/N!'

You turned back around to face not only him, but Derek, JJ, Penelope, Alex, and David as they all slowly went for their cars too.

You caught yourself staring at them, taking their happy faces in one last time before you left them behind. Hotch said you'd always have a place with the BAU, but you weren't sure how long this mission would take. And if you'd be replaced by then.

You forced a smile onto your face and waved them farewell. 'Yeah, see you then.'

You hated the bitter taste the lie brought to your mouth, but you managed to keep it together long enough that you got in your car and drove out of the car park without any more issues. That's when the tears came.

You wouldn't be there next Monday, and were not getting that date with Spencer next week.

It hurt you more to think that you may not get that date at all.

216 notes · View notes

hopefulromances · 10 months

Text

Long Time Coming I Chapter 13 I The Man

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football prodigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Chapter Summary: Reader is given an award. Jamie is supportive

Word Count: 5.2K

Warning: Some sexism hehehe

A/N: Plot plot plot! But there's some of my favorite jamie x reader moments in this one. Next is Amsterdam!!!!

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

I woke up alone. Now this was something I was used to at this point. Ever since Jamie had started doing his early morning runs with Roy, we hadn’t been spending as many nights together. Not that I liked it, but it was something I was getting used to.

My alarm went off at 6:00, as per usual. I did some yoga, showered, then was brushing my teeth when I got an unexpected text from Rebecca. It read:

Please come to my office when you get in today.

Hm. That was an unusual text to get from your boss at 7:30 in the morning. I racked my brain trying to think of something I’d done to get a talking to. Yeah, it hadn’t been a great month for us, but it wasn’t anything I’d particularly done.

I finished up with my skin care and decided to head into work early to get whatever this was over with. I arrived at the club not much later, waving at the caretaker as I walked in. The walk up the stairs to Rebecca’s office felt excruciating.

But when I arrived there, it wasn’t just her. I opened the door and there was Higgins, Keeley, and Ted sitting in front of her desk.

“Good morning, guys,” I entered approaching the group. “I didn’t know it was a party.”

“(Y/N)!” They all greeted in unison.

“Ah, that wasn’t creepy at all!” I laughed, trying not to show my nerves.

Rebecca motioned to a third seat. “Please, take a seat.”

I took off my backpack as I sat, holding it in front of me. “I’m not getting fired, am I? Oh my god, you’re firing me?”

“What? Oh heavens, no!” Rebecca dismissed, shaking her hands. “Why on earth would you think that.”

“Well, its all of you here, and I just walked in and thought it, I don’t know!” I shook my head. “If you’re not firing me, what are you doing?”

They all exchanged looks excitement filling their eyes.

“Oooo go on! Tell her!” Keeley insisted, clapping her hands.

“Tell me what?”

“The anticipation is killing me!” Higgins chimed in.

“What anticipation?”

“She doesn’t even know what’s about to hit her!” Ted added.

“Please just tell me what’s going on before I kill someone!” I was practically shaking at his point.

“Oh, alright,” Rebecca addressed me finally. “(Y/N), the league is honoring you with Coach of the Month!”

The group all cheered as I took in the information.

“We have a press conference this afternoon,” Keeley told me. “We’ll brief you on everything you’ll need to do but we are just so excited for you!”

“Couldn’t be happier for you,” Ted smiled. “You’re part of what makes this team great!”

“Of course, she is! I hired her!” Rebecca hummed proudly. “I always knew you’d be great.”

I frowned. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. They kept talking at me about what was going to happen. An interview, a photoshoot, a magazine cover but all it sounded like I was underwater. I had to get out of this room.

I stood up, grabbing my bag and leaving without so much as a word. I hurried down the stairs and outside into the car park. Why was I so upset? Why couldn’t part of me just be happy about this? I heard the door open behind me and I knew one of them had followed me.

“Look, now I know emotions are a subjective thing, but I don’t know usually there’s at least a smile when you get a cool award.” Ah Ted. Just the person I didn’t want to see right now.

I shook my head. “Please, Ted. I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Now, I’m confused. What exactly aren’t we doing?” Ted asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“This!” I shouted, pointing between him and me. “You giving me some anecdote about how I’m good enough and how I earned this because you and I both know that isn’t true.”

Ted furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“I know why Rebecca hired you.” The statement hung in the air. The truth behind the whole operation at Richmond. The secret I’d overheard in the coach’s office at the end of Ted’s first season with us. “And it’s the same reason she hired me.” Ted paused, nodding his head. I couldn’t help but let out an ironic laugh at the situation. “We both know that I was hired because she thought it would make us lose.”

Rebecca, so overcome with her hatred of Rupert, hired Ted and Beard and I because she thought it would make the worst coaching team. We would drive the team into the ground ruining Rupert’s favorite team. This was something I tried to ignore but since finding out it seem to legitimize some of people shouted at me on the internet and what Max had said to me before I left. I wasn’t meant to be here. I wasn’t saving the league. I was just a girl pretending to know what I was doing.

“Now, (Y/N), I don’t know what you think you heard but-“

“Please cut the bullshit, Ted,” I snapped, cutting him off. “I’ve worked really hard to get past it, but I don’t deserve an award when I’ve done nothing to earn it.”

Ted’s mustache twitched. “You’re right. Rebecca hired both of us to make some point to Rupert. That is true. But something else that’s true is that you’ve consistently proved her wrong at every turn.” I opened my mouth to say something, but Ted held up his hand. “Now, you might not see it, but Beard and I and even Roy, we all depend on you to keep this whole thing afloat.”

I let out a breath and wipe at my lips as I stare at him. I certainly hadn’t been feeling like that recently. Since the West Ham match, we’d been on a losing streak, and I’d been so in my head about all of it that I couldn’t do my job.

“I just…” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore Ted. And this Coach of the Month is just another bullshit excuse for me to know that I’m not meant to be here.”

All I could hear in my head was the sound of my failed dreams and Max’s taunts and the paper missing the bin over and over and over again.

“Hey (Y/N),” Ted’s voice appeared much closer than I thought he would be. “Do you remember that puzzle metaphor I told you about?” I scrunched my face up, nodding my head. “Well, that metaphor has a lot of different meanings. Maybe you should try to put it together again.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Can’t you just tell me what you mean for once, Ted?”

“I mean,” He chuckled at my frustration. “You’re stuck in a rut, yeah? So, instead of trying to put the puzzle back together the same way over and over again… maybe you were putting it together the wrong way. Maybe you need to… try something new. And maybe…” He nudged me, forcing me to look over at him. “Maybe you should let someone help you put that puzzle together.”

I still didn’t get it. Well not fully. But I think I understood the gist of it. The funny thing was as we were staring at each other, Roy and Jamie came running up. Jamie smiled at Ted and I coming to run in circles around us.

“Mornin’ Coaches,” He smiled, starting to run in place.

“Tartt! You’re not done yet! Get to the training room and start lifting.” Roy followed up; a bit slower.

Jamie groaned loudly. “I ain’t even stopped or nuthin’. I were just sayin’ hi.”

“Go!” Roy barked, pointing towards the door.

Jamie rolled his eyes dramatically before shooting Ted and I a wink. Roy shook his head as Jamie made his way inside, seemingly off to the training room.

“Mornin’ Roy, good training with Jamie?” Ted asked Roy.

“As good as it can be,” Roy grunted. “What are you two doin’ out here?”

Ted looked over at me, motioning for me to tell him. I shook my head at him, grunting that I wouldn’t. Ted hummed back that I absolutely would and that we wouldn’t leave until I said it. I let out a huff.

“The leagues giving me some bullshit title of Coach of the Month that doesn’t actually mean anything but they’re making a big deal out of it,” I informed Roy finally.

He grunted is a way that sounded vaguely positive. “Good for you.”

“Fuck off.”

“Alright.”

The day was filled with Keeley throwing me through the PR wringer. What to expect, what to say, what not to say. I wasn’t super excited about it, but Ted’s words were rolling around in my head. I hated puzzles. I’d never liked them. I thought I’d figured out Jamie’s puzzle but now there was another puzzle. When would it end.

“Okay, the most important bit is the press brief we have this afternoon. They’ll bring in you and some of the lads to talk about you as a coach,” Keeley told me, writing down some notes.

“What will they be asking?” I questioned, trying to look over her shoulder.

“Oi don’t be looking over my shoulder,” she reprimanded, shouldering me away. I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. “They’ll ask you probably your normal annoying questions about being a woman, but also about the team and such.”

I grumbled. “I didn’t hear them asking Pep what it was like being bald why do I have to talk about being a woman.”

“That’s because no one cares what it’s like being bald,” Keeley pointed out, giggling. “Being a woman is actually interesting.”

“Is it really?” I rolled my eyes. “So, uh… what guys will be coming to talk about me?”

Keeley hummed as she flipped her notebook shut. “I dunno, I was gonna ask to see who wanted to later. Do you have anyone in mind?”

Yeah. Yeah, I did. “No, I don’t want to force anyone to do it.”

“Sure. And Ted is gonna introduce you, of course.”

“And this is all happening tomorrow?” I pushed out of my chair. I’d already waisted the whole day, I at least wanted to get to the end of training.

“Yup!” Keeley smiled at me. “Don’t stress, you��re gonna be great.”

I shot her a sarcastic smile. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna love it. It’s gonna be amazing.”

…

Later that night, I was resting in Jamie’s lap. I felt goosebumps spreading over my body as Jamie’s hand stroked my stomach lazily. On the TV, an episode of New Girl that I’d seen hundreds of times played but I wasn’t really paying attention.

“Jamie…” He hummed, letting me know he was listening. “Did they tell you about this… Coach of the Month thing?”

His face broke out into a smile as he looked down at me. “Yeah, it’s great, innit? So, fucking proud of you.” He tightened his grip around my waist, shaking me proudly.

I found myself blushing at his praise. Even though I thought it was kind of stupid, Jamie being proud of me was affecting my happiness a little too much.

“Yeah… I guess… I don’t know what I think about it,” I admitted, rolling so I was looking up at him. He cocked his head, motioning me to continue. “I guess, I just don’t know if it’s because I’m a good coach or if it’s because I’m a woman or whatever.”

Jamie scrunched up his face pursing his lips in confusion. “What… why would they do that?

“I don’t know to make themselves look better?” I sighed, lifting myself off his lap and leaning forward. I ran a hand through my hair. “I just… I’m not sure I’m ready to go out in front of all those people and talk about myself.”

Jamie leaned forward so his shoulder was touching mine, stretching his neck so he could try and rest it on my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I asked, looking over at him.

“’m trying to comfort you, you daft idiot,” he explained, rubbing his cheek on your shoulder.

“You’re acting like a cat,” I crowed, trying to push him off of me. But he wrapped his arm around mine arm pulling me into him, rubbing his cheek all over my shoulder and neck. “Stop!”

He grabbed my legs and pulled them up into his lap, pulling me so I was sitting on him.

“Look, whatever happens tomorrow, just know that me,” he pressed his cheek into mine. “And the rest of the lads know how amazing you are. Not just as a coach but as a person. But especially as a coach.”

I giggled, pressing back into him. “What about you Jamie? How are you feeling about playing Man City this week?’

He shrugged. “My stats level up against Man City. They’ve played well this year but we’ve got the ability to win.”

“No, Jamie… I mean,” I turned around, so I was facing him, my legs now straddling his waist. “How do you feel, like you.”

He frowned, his nose scrunching up in a way that was far too cute for one man. “I feel… uh… I feel fine.”

I reached up and rubbed the space between his eyes. “I don’t think you do babes, you’re gonna give yourself wrinkles.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning his neck back. His neck was so exposed, it was so tempting to just… lean forward and kiss his Adam’s apple. I looked up and decided to play a little bit. I leaned forward and kissed him, right on the bottom of his neck where the skin sunk in a little bit. He hummed, the vibrations tickling my mouth.

“Jamie, baby,” I murmured, kissing up his neck, finally finding his Adam’s apple. He groaned in response. “C’mon, I want you to talk to me.”

“Can’t talk when you’re kissing me like that,” he croaked, his voice deep and gravely. So, I stopped, pulling away from him completely. “Hey! Wait!”

I started to slide off of him, but he wrapped his hands around my waist and yanked me closer to him. He buried his head in my neck kissing me furiously. I shrieked grabbing onto his hair to tug him back.

“Jamie, if you talk to me I’ll give you the best blow job of your life,” you waggled your eyebrows at him.

He whined, cracking his neck back and forth before slouching back. “I feel… fine. I guess. Haven’t heard from me dad in a while. It’s not like… I’m afraid he’s gonna be there but not knowing is worse.” I nodded at him, rubbing his collarbones. “But fuckin’ Zava’s probably gonna take the attention anyways.”

I gave him a sympathetic smile. “Well, it’s okay to be worried about your dad but… we’re at home. We’re on your turf. He doesn’t even need to be allowed in if you don’t want.”

“I’m not gonna ban me dad,” Jamie grumbled. “I just… want to know.”

I nodded again. I gave him a satisfied smile before pulling him down into me to make good on my promise.

He wanted to stay over that night, but I insisted that I wanted to maintain my regular routine for the next day. But laying in my bed that night, staring up at the fan, I wished he was there with me.

I arrived at the club early. Like 6:30am early. The groundskeeper had barely arrived by the time I got there. But I was nervous. I’d been able to avoid press conferences, manage photo events and stay in my lane for the most part but today it was all on me. And why was I wasting a day doing this when we had out Man City game this weekend, I’ll never know.

“Oh, my god, how long have you been here?” Keeley asked, handing me a coffee as she walked into the press room.

“Since 6:30, I couldn’t sleep,” I told her accepting the drink gratefully.

Keeley clicked her tongue at me soothingly. “It’s gonna be alright, you’ve got this. I just want you to be yourself up there, yeah? We’re starting with the photo shoot first today, the press conference will be this afternoon, when the boys are free.”

And that came faster than I expected. After a long day of cameras and poking and prodding I was left staring at the door of the press room. I could practically hear it, the flashing of the cameras, I could feel it, the stares of the journalists waiting for me to slip up, waiting for their next scoop. Ted was in there right now, talking me up. I picked at my thumbs, trying to steady my breath but I was struggling to find it. I felt like my head was buzzing, and that my heart was moving at a thousand beats per second. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drown out the now blinding florescent lights.

Suddenly arms were wrapping around me, holding me so tight. “Hey, it’s okay, I got you.”

Jamie. I immediately latched onto him. I didn’t care if we were in public, I didn’t care if someone from the press room got a peak at this, all I cared about was Jamie’s steady heartbeat helping me regain my control.

“There you go,” He murmured, lips brushing against my temple. “Just breath, love.” I did as he instructed, finally finding the control of my breathing. I let myself blink my eyes open and look up at Jamie. He smiled at me, brushing some of the hair out of my face. “There she is.”

“Hi, Jamie,” I squeaked at him, resting my chin on his chest.

“You know it’s kinda nice seeing you be the needy one for once,” he said to you.

I gaped at him, scoffing. “Don’t say that, I’m having a panic attack and you’re gloating?”

“I gotta take it where I can find it,” He chuckled. Then he leaned down and kissed my temple, his lips lingering there. “You’re gonna be amazing in there.”

“What if I’m not… what they want?” I croaked. “What if I mess up or do something stupid.”

“It would be right funny if you did that!” You gasped and hit his chest. “Hey! That hurt. I’m just sayin that you could become a meme.”

“Jamie!”

“Alright, alright, jus’ there’s no way they won’t want you cause… I mean you’re everything there is to want,” Jamie noted, as if it was easy, as if it was simple.

I felt that breathless feeling again but this time it wasn’t because of panic, it was because of Jamie. I smiled with my lips tucked, looking between his eyes before reaching up and kissing him. He kissed me tenderly, softly. In a way that made me hum in contentment. I probably would have stayed like that if it weren’t for the next intrusion.

“Oi!” Roy’s voice made us jump apart. “If the two of you want to keep this a secret, then you better stop kissing in the fucking hallway.” He growled as he marched towards us. “Tartt, go get changed you’re gotta be in there in 5 minutes.”

I looked over at Jamie surprised. “You’re coming to talk about me?”

“Obviously?” He stated, rolling his eyes. “Even if we weren’t dating, you’d still be my best friend.” I just about melted at that one.

“Uuuuuugggggghhhhhhhhh,” Roy groaned loudly, grabbing Jamie by the arm and starting to drag him down the hallway. “Good luck, (Y/N).”

I laughed, covering my face as I watched them go. Then the door to the press room opened and Keeley poke her head out.

“You ready, babes?”

I watched Jamie disappear into the locker room and I felt that tell-tale flutter in my chest. I felt okay. I was going to be okay.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

She pulled me into the room as Ted was finishing up his speech.

“(Y/N) (L/N) has overcome incredible odds. And she has done it with a smile. So, without further ado, it is my honor to present you with (Y/N) (L/N)!”

I walked up on the stage to scattered applause. I waved hesitantly sitting down in front of the microphone. As I did, they all flooded the stage putting up their own recording devices. My eyes darted around the room at the different reporters until they landed on the back of the room where Rebecca, Higgins, Trent, and Keeley stood. I nodded at them, glad to have some friendly faces in the room.

“Uh… hi! I’m (Y/N) (L/N)…” I started, looking around to focus on someone. How did Ted do this? “I’m happy to be chosen as the Premier League’s Coach of the Month. Uh… does anyone have any questions?’ Immediately the room exploded as all their hands raised up. “Um okay you, in the front row.”

“Hi Ms. (Y/N)-“

“It’s Coach (L/N).”

“As a woman, what do you think the league can do to work on intersectionality across the teams?”

I furrowed my eyes brows. “That question doesn’t even make sense.”

Again, the hands raised, everyone calling out my name. I pointed to someone in the back.

“Coach, do you think being a woman has enhanced your ability to coach men or made it more difficult to understand the difficulties of being men in sports?”

“That’s like two questions shoved into one and the answer is no.”

“Coach (L/N), when you applied for the job here at Richmond did you do it to prove a point?”

“What? That’s not-“

“Where do you think the feature of the league is in terms of gender equality?”

This was going about as well as I thought it was going to be. I let out a frustrated sigh as they continued to shout questions at me. In the back of the room a door opened and in walked Colin, Sam, and Jamie. Colin waved at me, crossing his arms at his space in the back. I looked across the back of the room, at Ted and Keeley, Colin and Sam, and Jamie. The people in my life that made this possible. That made me possible.

“Okay, okay, everyone listen up,” I announced, hitting my hand on the table. The room went quiet. I shot Keeley an apologetic glance before taking a deep breath. “Listen, I didn’t take this job because I wanted to make some big statement about feminism or gender inequality or intersectionality. I took the job because I wanted to play football for money, just like any of the lads on the team.”

“And if you really cared about gender equality, you’d be talking to the many female coaches that coach the women’s league. Or the many female players? Why don’t we talk about the wage inequality when the women win more games? That’s what you should be asking me about!”

I leaned back in my chair and looked around the room. The reporters were all silent until one, Marcus Adebayo, raised his hand.

“Yeah, Marcus,” I called on him.

“Coach (L/N), how do you feel about Richmond’s chances against Man City on this weekend?” He asked, pen at the ready.

I paused for a second, let out a huff. “Thank you, you know Man City has kept us down for a long time, but I think our chances look good.”

…

Our chances were not good. The game was bad play after bad play, the boys were just not at their best. You wanted to blame it on Zava, the bastard decided to retire without telling anyone and didn’t even show up to the game. It was depressing and everyone felt it.

“Yeah… it was tough out there today,” I said to the reporter after the game.

“You are Premiere League’s Coach of the Month; do you feel like there was something more you could have done to secure this win?” The reporter asked bluntly.

“That’s somewhat of a redundant question. I’m an assistant coach. I do the best I can, but the boys are the ones who need to win, and they just didn’t have it today.” I replied, shrugging. “That’s all I have time for, sorry.”

I left the reporters with a small smile and started towards the locker room running a hand through my hair. This had been tough, and Keeley hadn’t been able to show up. Something about Shandy and a baby lamb and a lot of poop. I’m sure I’d hear about it more later. But for now, I walked into the depressing atmosphere that was the locker room.

I looked around the room, the boys sat silently in their despair. Jamie sat on the floor in front of his cubby like he did when he was upset. I glanced over at Bead and Roy who gave me a pair of sad smiles back. I looked over at Zava’s empty cubbies and frowned. I hated Zava. To come here and bring these boys hope then abandon them without a word I’d never be able to forgive him for that.

“Gentlemen, Hey,” Ted Emerged from the office. “That was a tought on tonight. Okay? Man City has still got our number. That… that’s all right.” The boys murmured a sad response. “We’re gonna get another crack at them later in the season. Uh-huh. Coach,” He addressed Beard. “No practice tomorrow yeah?”

“That’s right”

“Okay, well, I’ll see y’all on Monday,” Ted finished starting to turn around.

“Hey, hey. Hey Coach!” Sam spoke up. “What about Zava? He quit the team.”

I looked back over at Ted, wondering the same question myself. Ted sputtered a moment before answering. “Technically he retired from the whole sport, which does make it feel a little less personal, yeah? You know, like if, uh, your girlfriend runs off with some dude and it turns out they were soul mates.”

Again the boys grumbled a response, something about Gina Gershon was in the mix but it was mostly positive. I thought Ted might end it there, but he didn’t.

“Look. I hear you, okay? Zava is gone. And You what? I think it’s a good thing.” I perked up, interested to see where he was going with this. “Well, I do! Okay, look. Do I wanna win? Heck yeah? But I also wanna do it with folks that wanna be here.” I nodded, agreeing with his sentiment. “It’s not like we could handcuff him to his locker and make him love us.”

“We could have tried,” Dani cried from his spot. I could help but let out a chuckle, knowing that he really meant it.

“Hey, guys, look,” Ted regained their attention. “We got a good thing going here. Alright? We didn’t need Zava. Yeah?” Ted looked over at Jamie who nodded. I felt my heart warm knowing Ted was using Jamie’s words to encourage the team. “All we need to win are the fellas in this room right now. And all you fellas need to do is believe it.”

Just as he spoke the believe sign behind him fell, the torn pieces revealing themselves. The boys all starting clamoring shouting in fear.

“It’s a sign!” Bumbercatch shouted.

“That’s it. We’re doomed,” Colin agreed.

In the moment it was hard to disagree with them. Things hadn’t been great recently. And this just felt like the final nail in the coffin.

“Hey, knock it off, okay? We’re not doomed. No one is doomed,” Ted putting his hands up to calm everyone. “But, Bumbercatch, yes, you’re right. It is a sign. I agree.” He took down the two pieces and ripped them in half. I felt myself reaching out to stop him, not even knowing I was doing it, but surprisingly, Jamie’s hand on my leg stopped me. I looked down at him and he nodded towards Ted. “Belief doesn’t just happen cause you hang something up on a wall. Alright? It comes from in here.” He pointed at his chest. “And up here,” at his head, “ and down here.” At his stomach.

“Only problem is, we all got so much junk floating through us, a lot of time we end up getting in our own way. You crap like envy, or fear, or shame.” I swallowed hard, biting my lip. I knew he was right, I’d been letting my fear and shame of who I was get in the way of my happiness. Of my abilities as a coach. “I don’t wanna mess around with that shit anymore. Do you?”

We all shook our heads, some of the lads responding with a ‘no’, or a ‘no, coach’

“No, me neither. Hell no. Well, you know what I wanna mess around with? The belief that I matter, you know? Regardless of what I do or don’t achieve. Or the belief that we all deserbe to be loved. Whether we’ve been hurt or maybe we’ve hurt somebody else.”

“Or what about the belief of hope? Yeah? That’s what I wanna mess with. Believing that things can get better. That I can get better. That we will get better. Oh, man. To believe in yourself. To believe in one another. Man, that’s… that’s fundamental to being alive. And look. If you can do that, if each of you can truly do that…” He ripped the sign in half again. “Can’t nobody rip that apart.”

With that he walked over to the middle divider and slapped the ripped-up sign down on top of it.

“See y’all, Monday?”

The whole team responded with a ‘Yes, Coach’ before turning back to their cubbies to get ready to leave. But I stayed there. Staring at the broken sign. I wanted to believe. I needed to believe. And this team, these people, they helped me believe. Come what may, this whole room had my back.

…

I was still thinking about it as I arrived home that night. I didn’t expect Jamie to come over, it’d been a long day and he was waking up early still to do extra training. So, when he knocked on my door, I was surprised.

“Jamie? What are you doing here.” I asked him, pulling him inside.

“I wanna tell people about us,” He answered quickly. My eyes widened. “I know why you’ve been wanting to keep it a secret and I get that; I do. But… what Ted said today I just… I believe in us. I believe in you making me a better person and I don’t… I don’t want to hide that anymore.”

I stared at him, unsure of how to respond. I didn’t know if I was ready yet for the whole world to know. For ours to become theirs. I loved Jamie, I really did but what if it changed too much. Or worse, what if people tore us apart. Luckily Jamie continued speaking before I could answer.

“You don’t have to decide right now. I just wanted to put it out there.” He nodded at me before leaning down and kissing my cheek. “Alright, I’m gonna go now.”

And he was out the door.

Fuck.

Tag List: Taglist:@heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time @wigglegiggle @skewedcherries @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @snubug @rana030 @ems-alexandra @jaymum @sokkigarden

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso show #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #long time coming

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those70scomics · 5 months

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Update

Hi! ❤️

It's been almost a year since I began to get sick. Health-wise, I continue to progress toward the next stage of my healing. When I have more significant info to share, I will. The everyday (and weekly) ups and downs are part and parcel of recovering from a major medical emergency. Overall, though, I feel much closer to my normal self than I did nine months ago (within the context of what I'm dealing with). ☀️

Fanfic! I'm writing the final chapters of Those Who Play with Demons (first draft). This story is split into twenty-four books, each cohesive on its own and an integral part of the overall plot. The books are akin to episodes of a serialized TV show.

That Fez/Buddy fanfic continues to tickle my brain.

I've got one more episode of Those '70s Comics to post (once I finish the dialogue boxes). I'm not saying that'll be the end-end of the comics. I hope I can do a time-jump episode to finish the series as I originally planned years ago (I thought I'd quit after season 6). Can't promise that, though, but you'll be getting plenty of T7S content from me, writing and art, in the foreseeable future. 🌈

#Personal

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steamberrystudio · 9 months

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27/08/2023

So now that Gilded Shadows is wrapping up, I am promoting When Stars Collide from "Spare time project" to "Part time project"

What is the difference? Well, when I work on something in my spare time, that means it is late at night or the weekend. Literally when I am not doing anything else and just feel like tinkering with it.

As a part time project, this means that I will be spending an hour or two each day during the work week to do things for this project. It will start making more steady progress even if I'm not focusing on it full time.

This is basically taking it from me spending 0 - 4 hours on it a week to 8-10 hours on it a week.

My goal is to have the draft complete before the end of the year (by 'draft', I mean 'rough draft'). But more on that below.

Summary

Finished all scenes for the new chapter three

Finished Yren chapter 6 scenes

Started catching Kav's route up to the others

Edited Asher's CG to account for the new conference room BG

Small adjustments to Wil's first CG

Ramble

This week my big focus for WSC has been on writing. As I mentioned, I really want to get the rough draft completed by the end of the year. Currently the draft is nearly 70% complete (for those following updates in multiple places, when you see different percentages....it's because I've written more since then. Rofl).

Now, the draft was nearly 70% in the past as well but I added another route since then, so I lost some progress due to the increase in target word count. I'm also calculating things more precisely now as I created a newer and fancier writing spreadsheet to track my progress and keep myself on track.

I went back and wrote in the new chapter 3, reorganising all the existing chapters and scenes to accommodate it.

I finished Yren chapter 6 (which catches him up to Noel and Raif).

And now I'm working on catching Kav, the new character, up to Yren, Noel, and Raif. (Remember, Daaz and Asher's routes are already fully drafted).

I have written about 15000 words since my last update here. I don't expect to write that much every week and my goal is actually a fair bit more modest than that. Gilded Shadows is not 100% complete yet. I still have multiple KS related things to finish and, of course, I will be making corrections and focusing on its beta testing once testers have had a bit more time with it.

WSC is still a part time project. This was just a particularly good week for it.

I have also worked on a few other things for WSC - mostly UI related and some art related things.

I received a new BG since my last update, and realised that...I have to revamp all the existing CGs. Or at least update them to change the background elements. I've only edited one so far but I don't think it'll be too much effort to fix the others.

And I continue to streamline and adjust the UI to make it look nicer and be more efficient.

So...

Kav. The new character. Kav'isari Tiaine, a Ka'mérian crew member who works in the space labs most of the time and specialises in identifying alien technology (what species it belongs to and what it does).

To explain where Kav came from, he actually popped into my head months ago. And every so often, I would contemplate whether or not I wanted to add him. I would say I first had the idea in January or February of this year. I would repeatedly think about it and dismiss it.

I then mentioned it to a friend sort of off-handedly back at the very beginning of June. A month and a half later, I mentioned him on a voice call on my server knowing full well that if I really talked about him and had a conversation about him, I would probably end up doing enough character brainstorming that he would become "real." And I talked about him anyway.

And that's exactly how he became an actual character. I think I had his sprite sketched out by the end of that day.

But he had existed as a concept long before that. The main reason I was willing to add him instead of ruthlessly telling myself no is just that I felt there was a gap in the cast for a gadfly style character who has a little mystery to him. And I just knew I could manage another route based on the length of Asher and Daaz's routes.

So...yeah. That is how Kav came into being. His introduction into the story has caused a few minor changes to standing lore or things in the prologue (just mentions of him, etc). But the changes to the currently public content of the game are pretty minor.

Kav won't actually appear in the game until Chapter 3. He gets mentioned a few times up to that point. There are some logistical considerations to his route but I have talked about those more on Patreon.

Speaking of Patreon, now that WSC is moved into "part time" status, I will be starting to slowly release some Patreon-exclusive lore posts for this game there. Like most games monetised through Patreon content, the lore posts will not be critical to having a full and complete game experience. Rather, it is going to be comprised of additional and extra lore content.

Some of the lore content released on Patreon will be in the game (such as character back stories) but Patrons will get to see it early and will get it presented in a different format.

Much of the content can be considered "extras" rather than necessary.

I will also be updating on the development progress weekly there (available to all patrons) rather than bi-weekly, and my updates there (going forward) will tend to be more detailed than the ones here.

Once episode releases start, Patrons will be able to access them before they the public releases. But backing on Patreon is not necessary to be able to play the game and get a full and complete game experience. It's just how this particular game will be monetised as I'm looking for more sustainable release styles so I can continue to make games.

That is all for this update. I will see you in a couple of weeks to talk about WSC again!

#when stars collide #updates #amare game #indie otome

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cheesybadgers · 5 months

Text

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 21)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 7,356

Summary: After arriving in Manizales, Horacio introduces Javier to his family, leading to a long overdue heart-to-heart and a drinking game with a twist.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, allusions to period-typical prejudices, drinking game, smoking, swearing.

Notes: Firstly, I will soften the blow of leaving it so long since my last update with the news that chapter 22 will be posted within the next week or so! I decided to split it in half to give more space to the conversations between the characters. So, hopefully that will make up for my elongated silence lol.

Secondly, I finished drafting the rest of the fic at the end of last year 👀 So, I just need to complete editing on chapter 23 and the epilogue. Then, and I can't believe I'm actually saying this, it will be time to leave these two messy idiots to it.

I think it will take me some time to get my head around it coming to an end, not least of all because it's been almost 3 years since I started working on this behemoth. And I can't believe how much has happened/changed since then, yet my love for this ship and this story has stayed strong and close to my heart. So, a bit of a premature thank you to anyone who has supported it at any point since March 2021, it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster ❤️ As always, I love hearing from my readers, so feel free to drop me a comment/message!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 21: For Old Times' Sake

A haze of mist hung low on the horizon, clinging to the rolling waves of verdant peaks that bled seamlessly together with worn asphalt until it was impossible to tell where the sky began and the earth ended.

Luckily, the tyres of the hire car were built for rougher terrain, and it wasn’t the first time Horacio had driven this route. Admittedly, it would have been easier to fly. But this had the added benefit of giving Javier a taste of undiscovered territory.

If truth be told, it gifted them more time to mentally prepare for what was getting closer with every hour that passed, each stop off to admire the view and refresh a stubborn way to prolong the status quo.

Progress had been slow for the last hour as the congested traffic crawled along the sharp angles of the road with its treacherous drops only a few inches away. They had come to a standstill behind a bus that allowed passengers off to take photos, and with little room to manoeuvre around the vehicle, a trail of cars had no choice but to wait.

Javier lounged back in the passenger seat, one foot resting on the opposite knee, his elbow leaning on the door, and the window half open.

He watched Horacio’s hands on the steering wheel alternate between clenching and tapping, a particular kind of rigidity returning to his jaw for the first time in months – if not years.

Javier made an executive decision by reaching into the glove box. He pulled out an emergency pack of cigarettes and a lighter they had stashed away before setting off from Medellín.

He lifted one out of the pack and sparked up. “So, did you say it’s a farm we’re heading to?” There was no point asking the obvious, so distraction it was.

“A coffee farm on the outskirts of the city, yeah. It belongs to Fabián’s family. He and his brother, Santiago, do the bulk of the work now their father’s winding down.”

“Sounds nice. And kinda familiar.”

Horacio’s eyes finally left the windshield and met Javier’s with a shadow of a smile. “Yeah, it does. A lot hillier than Texas, though.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be hard.” Javier held out his smoke across the car, their first one that wasn’t post-coital in a long time. But needs must.

Horacio apparently agreed as he accepted it with a huff of resignation. “Fine, one for the road.”

“I think it’s allowed on roads like this one.”

“I did warn you.”

“Hey, no, I like it. Keeps you on your toes.”

“It reminds me of when Papá drove us to visit Tia Salomé and Tio Jairo in Bogotá. He and Mamá let us have sweets for the long journey but warned us the Mareco would take them away if we didn’t behave.”

“The Mareco?”

“La Leyenda del Mareco. It was a story we were told as kids. The Mareco’s a red devil that looks like a lizard on two legs. He steals children’s candy and conjures up a whirlwind to blow them away if they don’t obey their parents.”

Javier nodded in recognition as Horacio passed their cigarette back. “La Llorona was the story used to scare me and my cousins.”

“Oh yeah, we got that one as well.”

“I gotta say, the Mareco explains a lot.”

“About what?”

“About how you developed a problem with authority.”

“What’s your excuse then?”

“What can I say? I was led astray.”

It was a blatant lie, but Javier didn’t care when it caused laughter lines to materialise in the corner of Horacio’s eyes.

“We both know you were drawn to it as much as you resented it.”

“Only where you were concerned. Anyway, you were just as bad even though you'd never admit it.”

“Maybe you were my exception too.”

A moment of silence fell as memory after memory collided, snapshots of how the push and pull between them had evolved with their relationship.

"Listen, I was thinking,” Javier started before taking a drag, “would it make things easier if you wore this? Just while we’re here, I mean.”

Horacio’s gaze drifted to Javier’s exposed skin, the taillights of the car in front catching on the crucifix at his chest. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s yours now.”

By the time their cigarette was finished, the traffic edged forward, and the road ahead and Javier’s hand on Horacio’s leg soon replaced conversation.

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Two and a half hours and several bursts of heavy rain later, the muddied hire car pulled up by a complex of buildings nestled amongst a sea of lush green and vibrant flowers. The buildings sat atop steep slopes of vegetation that led to the coffee plantations below, the foggy skyline above etched with rugged ridges and the ominous outline of Nevado del Ruiz in the distance.

Any sounds from life on a working coffee farm were drowned out by birdsong and their feet crunching beneath them as Horacio and Javier walked up the gravel path towards the main finca. It was typical in its style with a rustic tiled roof, whitewashed bricks and wooden pillars around its perimeter painted in the same shade of terracotta red as the doors and window frames. At the back of the property was a large garden with a patio area, pool and a spectacular view for miles on a clear day.

As they lugged their suitcases onto the porch, Alejandra waited to greet them at the front door. Her dark hair was styled in a bob with waves bordering on curls, the kind Javier imagined Horacio could grow if he wasn’t so insistent on keeping his hair short. At least since leaving the CNP, he had been less strict about cutting it.

The family resemblance between the two siblings was evident in their facial features, particularly in the shape of their noses, charcoal eyes and Cupid’s bows. But Alejandra was a few inches shorter, and her frame was slimmer on account of not carrying the same muscle as Horacio.

“The wanderer finally returns,” Alejandra announced as she pulled Horacio in for a long hug, neither of them keen to be the first to let go. “At least you remembered how to use the phone before turning up on my doorstep.”

“Of course. It's good to see you. But I am sorry I left it so long. There’s, erm…a lot to catch up on.”

“I’ll say.” She peered curiously behind Horacio. “But first, let me say hello to this handsome new face.”

She all but pushed Horacio to one side, forgoing any formal introductions he might have had planned. All Horacio could do was stand and watch two parts of his life converge that, for a long time, he believed would never – and could never – meet.

Javier had hung back by several feet, his hands self-consciously stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he kept his eyes on the ground until he was spoken to.

“Hi there, I’m Alejandra. You must be Javier?”

“Oh, er, yeah, hi.” For reasons unbeknownst to Javier, he raised his hand in a stiff wave rather than the relaxed handshake he had planned and felt the heat instantly rise in his cheeks. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Beautiful place you’ve got up here.”

“Likewise. And thanks.” Much to Javier's relief, she took the lead and held out a hand for him to shake with a reassuring smile. “Although you’ve got Fabián to thank for that. He’s down there giving a tour to one of our new buyers.” Alejandra turned back to face Horacio. “Mamá’s shopping for school supplies and tonight’s dessert with Juan José, Sofía and Mateo. Ana María’s out with friends. But they should all be back in the next few hours.”

Horacio nodded but remained taciturn, keeping to himself his strong suspicions that Alejandra had made sure she was the only one to greet them upon arrival.

“Come on, you can show Javier around whilst I make us something to eat and drink.”

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It had been a long time since Horacio’s last visit, but he could just about remember the layout of the place. He took Javier through the downstairs rooms, moving from the hall to the living areas and then the kitchen, which appeared tidier now than in his dreams.

The décor was all tiled or wooden floors and earthy tones, contrasting against large airy windows that made the landscape outside seem like a part of the finca. Evidence of three generations and two cats was scattered everywhere in the form of toys, games, videos, tapes, books, various coffee products and photographs from over the years. In one corner stood a home altar containing a large crucifix, prayer cards, rosary beads, candles, and a statue of Virgen de Chiquinquirá. In the opposite corner was a shelf full of old vinyl with Lucho Bermúdez taking pride of place, naturally.

Upstairs housed six bedrooms and three bathrooms, on account of the brood of four children, three adults and a spare room. The spare room was their last stop, where they dumped their luggage, sharing an amused glance at the double bed with a smaller fold-out one laid out in the corner with a pile of fresh sheets.

“As your guest, I take it I get the bigger one?” Javier asked with a spark of mischief in his eye.

“Well, technically, I’m also a guest here. And I did do all the driving.”

“Maybe I’ll, er, flip you for it later.”

Horacio merely raised a brow at the suggestion in Javier’s tone before they headed back downstairs.

They sat under cover of the terrace in the wildly growing garden, just in case the rain returned, which was always a distinct possibility in Manizales. An impressive platter of fruits was laid out on the table alongside freshly made coffee.

“So, how was the wedding?” Alejandra asked as she poured from a pot into three cups, the dark, rich aroma diffusing into the same crisp air the beans were grown and harvested.

Horacio accepted a cup with a thanks and passed the other to Javier. “It was nice. Good to see everyone again.”

“How’s Trujillo doing? It’s been strange seeing his face all over the news.”

Rather than his, Horacio thought with a strange lurch to the gut he wasn’t expecting. “He’s doing well; he’s a Major now. He deserves some happiness after everything.”

“He’s not the only one.”

Alejandra gave Horacio a pointed look, one he wasn’t ready to entirely meet, so he reached for a slice of guayaba instead.

“And Javier...I take it this is your first visit to Manizales?” she continued, offering him the fruit tray.

“Thanks. And yeah, it is. Never got the time to explore much beyond Bogotá and Medellín.” That wasn't exactly true, but Javier didn’t think talk of Cartagena or Tolú would be welcome right now.

“Well, I hope it won’t be your last.”

Horacio could feel another look directed his way but pretended not to notice it and sipped on his coffee.

Once they had eaten their weight in fruit, Alejandra had some business calls to make, leaving Javier and Horacio to unpack and freshen up before reconvening to make a start on dinner.

Of course, it had to be sudado de pollo. Horacio and Alejandra worked as a team, issuing sporadic instructions to Javier when necessary. But he was happy listening to them catch up and reminisce.

“That smells amazing already,” Javier said as he finely chopped onions across a wooden board, gesturing to the dishful of chicken thighs that Alejandra had just finished marinating.

“Mamá’s secret blend,” she replied as she set the dish aside to move on to dicing several tomatoes.

“Oh yeah? What would I have to do to get the recipe for that?” Javier reflexively caught Horacio’s eye across the kitchen.

“If we told you, we’d have to kill you.” Horacio shot Javier a warning look that indicated he was only half joking before focusing intently on cutting up a large batch of yuca and potatoes.

“Yeah, not even Fabián knows.”

“Papá never knew either. But he was happy for us or Mamá to make it for him.”

“My Mamá was the same with her Abuela’s morisqueta. Although, not long before she passed, she left me and my Pops the recipe.”

Alejandra paused her knife to look up at Javier, the surprise on her face soon transforming into recognition and sympathy. “I bet it’s delicious. You should make it for us some time.”

Now it was Horacio’s turn to stop, his eyes travelling from Alejandra to Javier and back again as the implication of his sister’s words hung as heavy in the kitchen as the aromatic spices of her marinade.

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Once the chicken and vegetables were all prepped and placed in a pot on the stove, the front door opened and closed, a loud chatter of voices soon filling the hallway.

Before Javier knew what was happening, he was being introduced to the children, shaking hands with Fabián, then kissing Elena’s cheek.

“Welcome, Javier. It’s good to put a face to a name at last,” Elena said, thoroughly taking in his appearance, apparently satisfied with what she saw.

At last. Javier wasn’t sure whether those words put him at ease or made him more nervous, but he managed to push such thoughts behind a smile. “Nice to meet you, and likewise.”

Javier had briefly seen pictures of Horacio’s family in the past. But he, too, spent time studying Elena now that he was close enough to smell the floral notes of her perfume. Neat oval glasses and a mix of dark and light grey hair cut short and choppy framed her sharp features, the shape of her nose and Cupid’s Bow matching those of her children.

“No thanks to this one here, mind you.” Despite her chastisement, Elena embraced her son tightly, reluctant to let go. “I think he’s been hiding from us.”

“You know it wasn’t like that, Mamá.” Although, over his Mamá’s head, Horacio gave Javier a sheepish look that said otherwise. “It is good to see you. And I’m sorry I left it so long.”

Upon greeting his nieces and nephews, Horacio was struck by how much they had all grown up since his last visit. Ana María was the spitting image of her mother. Juan José was several inches taller than Horacio and resembled his father more than ever. And Mateo and Sofía had presumably become resentful of all the matching outfits in their younger years of being twins, going out of their way to dress as differently from each other as possible. Once they had said their obligatory hellos, they scattered around the house and no doubt wouldn’t re-appear until dinner was ready.

Right on cue, when Alejandra brought out steaming and brimming plates full of sudado de pollo, everyone rapidly took their places around the table.

Silence fell as they tucked in, the warmth and comfort of childhood cocooning Horacio from what he knew was inevitable. A welcomed interruption from his thoughts came with a soft brush against his leg, his instincts telling him it was one of the cats issuing their own greeting. But he should have known better.

As they ate and endured the usual family small talk, Javier's foot became Horacio's anchor, subtle and soothing rubs against his ankle unseen under the table. Steady, grounding, home.

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Horacio carried the last few empty plates to the kitchen, where piles of dishes were already stacked high. He had left Javier with Juan José and Mateo, who were showing off the latest video games they had got for Christmas – and were comfortably beating Javier at them, too.

“I’ll wash; you dry. For old times’ sake,” Alejandra said without looking up from the sink where she was filling the basin with water and suds.

“Okay. On the condition we both tidy everything away afterwards.”

“Deal. You’ll just put it in the wrong place unsupervised anyway.”

Horacio swatted the tea towel he’d picked up in her direction, only for her to retaliate by flicking bubbles in his hair.

“We did okay with dinner, didn’t we? I haven’t made that in a long time,” Horacio said.

“You had a good teacher.”

“So did you.”

“Oh, I know. I think that’s why Papá always loved it. We were all in there somewhere.”

“Like our Christmas tamales.”

“Oh, yeah, he couldn’t get enough of those. Remember we always had to make an extra batch for him to take to work?”

“He said they were to share with his unit, but I’m not sure many made it that far.”

Now they were laughing as they worked in tandem, Alejandra changing the water as Horacio cleared the draining board, ready for the next load.

“Did you ever feel like you let him down?” Horacio asked after a long silence, both siblings seemingly waiting for the other to fill it.

“Of course. You know Papá didn’t approve of Fabián at first, right?”

“What?”

“You must’ve heard the arguments?”

“To be fair, there were plenty of arguments between you and Papá.”

“Yeah, and they were mostly about me daring to marry someone other than a cop.”

“That’s what it was about?”

“Mostly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fabián; I just think he had suitors picked out for me. People he knew he could trust.”

“But they got along in the end, didn’t they?”

“Once Papá had got over himself, yeah.” Alejandra let out a nostalgic laugh, which Horacio quickly joined in with. “He could be tough when he wanted to be, but…he meant well,” she settled on. “Once he saw how happy I was and how Fabián had taken after his father with the farm, he came around. It was never personal with Papá. It’s just the way he was.”

“So, you don’t think he’d be disappointed in me…” Horacio paused to swallow, his throat drier than a Texan summer. “For quitting?” he got out eventually.

Alejandra gave Horacio a look he’d seen countless times over the years. One only a big sister could give her little brother when she had to feign ignorance of something she had already discovered for herself. The perks of being the eldest.

“How did you know?”

“Horacio, are you really asking that of someone who has been surrounded by cops all her life?”

Horacio rolled his eyes but let Alejandra have that one unchallenged.

“I thought you might have been discharged on medical grounds, to be honest. I hoped you’d seen sense. Or maybe met someone.”

“I wasn’t discharged, but I negotiated a payout after my injury.”

Alejandra released a self-satisfied hum, a whisp of a smile threatening to break free from the corners of her mouth. “Two out of three’s not bad, I suppose.”

Horacio gulped hard enough for Alejandra to hear; he had no doubt about that. But no words followed, not even when he caught her eye.

“You love him, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation or an interrogation. In fact, it was barely even a question.

“Yes.” It caught Horacio off guard how fast he answered. How direct and concise he’d been.

“And he loves you.” There was no pretence of a question mark now, but rather a clarification of a well-established fact. A rite of passage both parties needed to hear.

“He does.”

“Enough to walk away from it all, too.”

Horacio nodded, scared the lump in his throat would give way to something else as his glassy gaze met Alejandra’s.

“His father – Chucho – owns a ranch in Laredo, Texas. That’s where I went after…” he trailed off, not wishing to dwell on the finer details of the ambush. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I hated lying after everything we’ve been through. But I figured the less you and Mamá knew, the safer it was.”

“I had a feeling you’d left Colombia. But Texas?” Alejandra blew out a low whistle. “That’s the part we’ll need to prepare Mamá for.”

“They’re Mexican-American. And the ranch is right on the border by the river.”

“I’d lead with that part if I were you. Not sure you can avoid a lecture about fraternising with Spanish colonisers, though. Twice.”

“I got that the first time I moved over there. But she went quiet when I reminded her Madrid was good enough for Simón Bolívar.”

Alejandra’s shoulders shook in unison with Horacio’s until a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So, you were there a whole year?”

“Just over. I couldn’t do much to help for the first few months – whilst this healed.” Horacio flexed his right arm to prove to Alejandra that everything was back in working order. “But it was good to have a routine eventually.”

“Wait a minute…you worked on the ranch?”

“No need to sound so surprised when you live here. I was actually pretty good at it. And I liked it.” Although Horacio understood and returned his sister’s bemusement because even he had shocked himself.

“No, I’m not. It’s just…oh, Horacio...” Alejandra broke off to bring her hand to his cheek, her brow creased, but her eyes caught between being on the brink of a smile and tears. “Look at you.”

Horacio made a show of wiping away the suds from his cheekbone, hoping he wouldn’t still have an audience afterwards. But no such luck. “It’s not what I expected to happen – any of it. But it just....felt right. I know that probably doesn’t make sense.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense.”

“Does it?”

“Well, for starters, I can see the appeal. Obviously. Can’t blame you for going for a younger man, either. And taller.”

Horacio rolled his eyes and hoped his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “Not by that much. On either count.”

“Hey, no judgment from me. But seriously, of course, it makes sense. I know we all used to joke about you being married to your job, but…after Juliana, I did wonder if there was more to it than that.”

“I think burying myself in work killed two birds with one stone.”

“It was killing you.”

“I know.”

“And Papá would have told you the same.”

A hollow laugh escaped Horacio’s throat, Martínez’s words from the wedding still ringing intrusively in his ears. “I’d have been kicked out of the force. He’d have made sure of that. And I wouldn’t have blamed him.”

“Right, because you were the first officer on Colombian soil to commit violence or be used as a political weapon.”

“He was against it, Alejandra. La Violencia was enough for anyone to see in a lifetime.”

But that was just another in a long line of civil wars. Even if his father's life hadn’t been cut short, he would have seen yet another bloody outbreak in which the state did more to perpetuate the death toll than bring peace to the country. And Horacio had plenty of blood on his hands. At least his Papá was spared witnessing that.

“And you don’t think he was ever put in a compromising position back then? You don’t think La Violencia was why he didn’t want the same for you? You won’t remember much, and Mamá and Papá never spoke about it around us, but I got pretty good at listening through doors.”

“He never did talk about it. Even when I was older.”

Not that he really needed to, Horacio conceded. Even though they were kept relatively safe and away from the violence in Medellín compared to other regions of Antioquia – particularly the rural parts – he had heard enough over the years to fill in the blanks.

He remembered his Mamá’s stories of helping the displaced, those who sought refuge in the city. Thousands who had been forced to flee the violence and start over again, often in makeshift housing on the outskirts, the irony never lost on Horacio that one of those neighbourhoods became Comuna 13. But for all his Mamá’s tales and the work she continued to do until she left for Manizales, his Papá never spoke about those years.

“He was protecting you. Like Mamá was with us after he died. Sometimes silence is easier.”

“I know. I get it. Before he died, the cocaine trade hadn’t got going in Colombia yet. It was mostly marijuana. But with FARC around and the gringos spreading their anti-communist propaganda, he knew it was a question of when, not if, another war was coming. I think he hoped things would be different this time.”

“You did what you had to do, Horacio. Just like he did. Just like every generation of our family did to survive. What’s done is done.”

“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew everything.”

“You think I never heard any of the rumours out here? Or picked up a newspaper once in a while?”

“You never said anything.”

Alejandra shot Horacio a cutting glare, the kind he was an expert at delivering, but only a select few could get away with throwing back at him. “I knew you wouldn’t talk about it even if I asked.”

Horacio scoffed. Touché. “Not all of it was true.”

It was Alejandra’s turn to laugh. “Well, I kinda figured you weren’t dead after you called.”

“I don’t just mean the ambush.”

“I know,” she said briskly.

But Horacio couldn’t ignore the relief in her body language. Even though he understood it, a wave of shame hit him for even planting a seed of doubt in her – his older sister, the mother of his nieces and nephews – mind in the first place.

“But that’s all in the past now,” he concluded, shutting down his own train of destructive thought. “And you’re right; Papá’s not here. But Javier is.”

“So your future’s in Laredo, then.”

“Are you mad?”

“Am I mad that my little brother is finally getting his shit together and is head over heels in love? Oh, yeah, I’m livid.”

An inferno had spread across Horacio’s cheeks, and he struggled to think of a response. But luckily for him, Alejandra wasn’t done yet.

“It’s…safe, though, right? For you both to live together?”

“As safe as anywhere else. Every country has its problems. I’m sure there’ll always be people with something to say. But we’ve been careful.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep being careful.”

“We will, I promise.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll convince Mamá to visit in the summer, though.”

“That’s fair. But you do think she’ll want to visit?”

“She might be strong, but we know what she lost – what we all lost. So, if there’s a chance for you to share your life with someone as she did with Papá, to be safe – to be happy after everything – yeah, I think she'll want to visit.”

“Do you think Papá would if he could?” Horacio knew it was a loaded grenade of a question and unfair to ask. But he couldn’t help himself.

Alejandra hesitated, seemingly aware she was between a rock and a hard place. “Maybe in his old age. Or if he knew Javier saved your life.”

“How did –?”

She expelled a comedically dramatic sigh. “Keep up, manito. When you called, you told me the DEA came after you that night. I don’t need to hold a badge to guess who that was.”

Horacio was banged to rights once more as he tried to recall the exact information he had relayed to Alejandra in the hours after the ambush; evidently, it was more than he thought.

“He – and his partner, Steve – went against orders and got suspended for helping me and my men.”

“So, they took a leaf out of your book then?”

“Something like that.”

Before Horacio could overthink it, he took a deep breath and told Alejandra everything. From the blackmail to his and Javier’s resignations to their year in Madrid, it all came tumbling out whilst she kept washing and he kept drying. Just like old times. Just like their Papá was in the next room along with their Mamá. And in so many ways, he always would be, not as a ghost of their past, but forever a part of their present and future.

------------------------------------------------------

Arriving during the week had its advantages, as it wasn’t necessary for Horacio to make excuses to get an early night. Work and school beckoned in the morning for most of the household, so the evening had ended in a low-key fashion.

That was more than fine by Horacio after a long drive and an overdue heart-to-heart. He lay on his side, his back nestled into Javier’s chest in the centre of the spare room’s double bed. They made up the fold-out bed for pretences, but it was purely extra space to store their luggage.

A bedside lamp and hints of moonlight peaking around the edges of the curtains cast the room in soft shadows, the low murmur of a telenovela in one of the nearby bedrooms the only sound to be heard at this hour.

“How old were you there?” Javier asked, his voice muffled against Horacio’s shoulder where he’d temporarily paused his trail of kisses after picking out one of several framed photos on the wall.

“The one from Alejandra’s wedding? I’d have been 24.”

“Cute curls.” Javier’s nose nuzzled against the back of Horacio’s head, which was sadly lacking the same unruliness as in the photo.

“Fuck you.”

Javier sniggered. “Hey, I was being serious! They suit you. Plus…more to grab hold of.” He slid a hand into Horacio’s hair as his mouth resumed its work along bare skin.

Horacio’s back arched with a sigh as he leaned into Javier’s touch. “You know we can’t get carried away. Not here.”

“I know.” Of course, Javier understood. It was one thing for him to have sneaked in and out of the guesthouse back in Laredo; it was quite another to be under the same roof as Horacio’s whole family. But that didn’t stop the almost petulant tone in Javier’s voice. He was still human, after all.

“I promise we’ll make up for it once we leave.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Despite their flirtation, exhaustion was thick in their throats and pressed heavily on their limbs, pushing them closer towards sleep as the butterflies in their stomachs finally settled.

“The wedding wasn’t that long after Papá died. Alejandra asked me to give her away instead. At first, I didn’t think I deserved to take Papá’s place. But I think she needed me there with her, so, I said yes.”

“Of course you did, and I bet she never forgot that.”

“No, and I’ll never forget tonight."

------------------------------------------------------

It was still dark in the spare room when Javier stirred and untangled himself from Horacio as slowly as possible. He had woken up thirsty and threw on a precautionary pair of jeans before tiptoeing down the wooden staircase towards the kitchen.

The clock on the oven read 01:30am, so he wasn't expecting to find the spotlights above it switched on. He searched through the cupboards until he found a tumbler and filled it with water from the tap, taking large gulps until the glass was drained.

“So, you’re a night owl too, then?”

“Shit!” Javier hissed, spinning around with a sharp intake of breath, almost dropping the glass on the tiled floor.

“Sorry,” Alejandra whispered. “I was just reading before heading off to bed.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I just needed some water. Didn’t think anyone else would be up.” Javier was suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing half naked in the middle of the kitchen, Horacio’s necklace like a flashing beacon at his chest. “Obviously,” he added with an awkward huff, looking down at his state of semi-undress.

“Right,” Alejandra replied with a stifled laugh. “How about you avoid catching a chill whilst I find something a bit more…authentic than tap water?”

Once Javier came back downstairs with his chest now covered, Alejandra was sat at the kitchen table with two shot glasses and a bottle of aguardiente.

“Not sure my stomach can handle any more of that after the wedding.”

“Lightweight. And just think of it as an initiation.”

Javier sighed in defeat, accepting the challenge as he took a seat opposite Alejandra.

She unscrewed the bottle and tipped measures into each glass. “Wanna make this more interesting?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Three shots, three questions each. But you can only ask a question after you’ve emptied your glass.”

Javier laughed for a second, unsure what he imagined Alejandra to be like, yet somehow, she surprised him anyway. “Okay. Already sounds better than every other icebreaker inflicted on me. Who goes first?”

“Guest’s choice.”

He stared down at his glass as though it was the barrel of a gun, remembering why he had eventually insisted whiskey was his and Horacio’s go-to drink. When he first arrived in Colombia, Horacio would offer him a shot, pouring liberally from the stash of aguardiente in his office drawer, and Javier accepted on multiple occasions. But it was over and done with like a spoonful of caustic medicine. At least whiskey could be drunk slower and delayed saying goodnight.

That wasn't the order of things now, though. So, Javier grabbed the bull by the horns and threw back his glass, wincing at the aniseed burn as it slid down his throat.

“New rule: you’ve got 30 seconds to come up with a question. Otherwise, you take another shot.”

“Alright, alright, I’m thinking.”

Alejandra’s gaze fell on the oven clock, ramping up the pressure. “10 seconds left…”

“Okay. I’ve got one. What was it like growing up with a younger brother?”

“Annoying, obviously. Especially after he got the highest grade in his English class. I don’t know where he picked them up, but he knew all the swear words. Of course. He drove me crazy testing them out.”

“He did that to my old partner, Steve – his Spanish isn’t great, and Horacio sure liked to remind him whenever he got the chance.”

“Sounds about right. No wonder he liked you – best of both worlds.”

“Maybe.” Javier knew what Alejandra meant, but it didn’t stop heat from spreading through his cheeks regardless.

“He was generally pretty quiet at school,” Alejandra continued, "but not afraid to take the lead…or break a few rules.”

“Again, I’m not surprised.”

“Nope.” They both laughed at that. “He always liked to be moving, though. Doing something with his hands. Or playing sports – he was a good runner. We used to race each other around Jardín Botánico, and he would always beat me. I think he already knew he was in training for the Academy. So, obviously, he was accepted. No doubt some thought he got a free pass, but he was determined to prove himself. Then he had to grow up.”

The joviality faded abruptly from Alejandra’s face, transforming into a wistful smile.

“We both did. But at least I’d had more time with Papá. Good job I did have those few years to myself ‘cos Horacio followed him around like a shadow. Until he couldn’t. Then he thought he had to be the man of the house. Even when there were two much more qualified women for the job.”

“He thought it was his duty."

“Yeah. He did.” There was something akin to awe in how Alejandra looked at Javier, as though she was simultaneously taken aback and impressed that someone summed up and understood her brother so accurately and succinctly.

“Isn’t it your turn, now?” Javier asked after a moment of silence.

Without further hesitation, Alejandra downed her shot. “Why Colombia?”

“Why not Colombia?” He tried a feeble laugh but knew that wouldn't cut it. “I studied Gabriel García Márquez in high school. Although, can’t say I really got him at the time. Took me another try when I was older.”

Now he thought about it, Javier wasn’t convinced he exactly got him the second time around either, considering García Márquez’s views on extradition aligned fiercely with Horacio’s. But that was the luxury of hindsight.

“By then, my Mamá had long since passed, my fiancée had just become my ex, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing with my life. Guess I needed to get lost in someone else’s problems for a while.”

“Tell me about it.” Alejandra held a book up in the air that had been abandoned on the table since Javier joined her.

“Smart move. My teacher loved telling us how García Márquez moved to Mexico and wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude over there. And with how things went down in Laredo, I could see the appeal of starting over in another country. Mexico was…too close to home. The drug war was getting out of hand. More and more agents were being transferred. And what’s the line?” Javier broke off, eyes cast towards the ceiling as he licked his lips in concentration. “‘We came’, they said, ‘because everyone is coming’.”

Alejandra let a pause of bewilderment pass between them as she studied Javier with intrigue. “You’re not at all like the other gringos he’s worked with in the past.”

“Did he bring any of them home to his family?”

“No. You’re the first. As I’m sure you're aware.”

“Maybe.”

“Drink up.”

Javier did as he was told, repressing a cough as the potent liquid worked its magic. “Why did you choose farm life over being a cop?”

Alejandra laughed a little too loudly, considering the time. “There are other career choices, you know.”

Javier gasped. “There are?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But that’s not quite how it went for me. The farm came with Fabián. They’re sort of a package deal. I’m sure you can understand that.” She threw Javier a knowing smile. “But I ruled out being a cop years before I moved here or met Fabián. I knew from Papá that women in the force were few and far between back then. They’re still pretty scarce now. I wasn’t up for putting myself in the firing line being a General’s daughter. They never would have respected me or believed I got there on my own merit. I didn’t want to spend my life trying to gain anyone's approval.”

“Makes sense. It’s not easy in the force if you’re…different from the rest."

“Exactly. I’m not sure it’s what Papá even wanted for me anyway. Because he knew what it’d be like. Then there was Mamá with her social work. She was in her element. Always fighting someone’s corner, especially during the suffrage movement. I think I was the odd one out in the family, ‘cos everyone else seemed to have…a calling except for me. So, I studied, got a business degree, became a buyer for various companies and ended up in the coffee industry. And the rest is history.”

“Good for you. And I guess that explains Horacio’s, er, distaste for a badly made cup of coffee.”

“Yep. He’s got no excuse. And neither do you anymore.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Your turn.” Javier took the bottle this time and filled Alejandra’s glass.

She downed it in one go. “¿Por qué no un llanero ahora que has descartado ser policía?” (Why not a llanero now you’ve ruled out being a police officer?)

“¿Por qué no un vaquero?” (Why not a vaquero?) Javier corrected with a glint in his eye that Alejandra returned with an eye roll. “Like you said…there are other jobs. That one was just never for me. I need more variety day-to-day. Like I’m making a bigger difference somehow. But preferably without the pretty fucking significant risk of death or blackmail.”

“A fair demand.”

“Right? It’s not like I’m asking for a raise.”

“When I moved here, I didn’t know where life was taking me, especially when the kids came along. I couldn’t keep my old job because of all the travelling…and being a mother was the priority until they started school. It took me a while to find my place on the buying and selling side of the business. So, all I’m saying is, things might get clearer once you’re settled back in Laredo.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Javier raised his glass and nodded his thanks to Alejandra, touched by her unprompted advice.

His third and final question had arrived, and the pressure to make it a good one pressed uncomfortably on his increasingly fuzzy head. “If your father was here now, what would you say to him?”

For a brief second, Javier feared he had overstepped some forbidden and invisible line and been overfamiliar with someone he only really knew by proxy at this stage.

But whilst Alejandra’s smile was permanently stained with traces of grief, warmth flickered then grew in her charcoal eyes. “I’d tell him we’re fine. That we miss him and wish he’d come back for good but that he needn’t worry. Because even though Mamá didn’t always get things right, she steered us through it as best she could. And we didn’t turn our backs on the world. That we found love in the dark.”

Alejandra sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Sorry. I think it’s the alcohol.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” Javier paused to clear his throat, blinking his vision back into focus. “It was beautifully said.” His hand reached for hers across the table, hoping again that he hadn’t gone too far.

But she let his hand rest there until she shook her head like a wet dog and poured her final shot. “Same question to you about your mother, obviously,” she said before downing the aguardiente in one.

Javier scoffed. “Well, I guess I deserved that.” He took his time, collecting his thoughts as though he was preparing an important speech. As though he’d been trying to find the right words for most of his life – and how rarely he’d succeeded.

“I’d tell her I miss her morisqueta. I’d tell her Pops visits her every week. But then I think she already knows that. Same way I think she made sure he never re-married.”

Javier couldn’t help but laugh, seeing with perfect clarity where his own loyal streak came from when his Pops was still as devoted to Mariana as the day they married. Siempre tuyo was no exaggeration.

“I’d make sure she knew he wasn’t alone, though. That he was known as Don Chucho to most in Laredo. That she’d be proud of him for growing the community she helped start. I’d brag about all the tamales we’ve made and quote her favourite poems. I’d introduce her to Horacio.”

He envisaged showing her Horacio’s poetry book, knowing that all it would take was for her to read Javier’s message in the opening pages to understand everything about who they were to each other. He’d even dreamed of it, waking with a ridiculous hope that she had somehow intercepted it.

“She sounds as incredible as your father. I hope one day I can thank him for taking my little brother under his wing when he needed it the most.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.”

“I can’t – and don’t want to – imagine where he would have ended up without either of you, to be honest. He told me about the ambush…and everything else. And even though it doesn’t feel nearly enough, I just want to say...thank you.”

At first, Javier could only nod and swallow the lump bobbing at the base of his throat. “He did the same for me. It wasn’t easy walking away from my job, don’t get me wrong, but it was different for him. He felt like he’d betrayed Colombia and his Papá. Yet he did it anyway.”

“When it’s the right person, the sacrifices are worth it. And I can’t think of anyone more worthy of wearing that.” Alejandra’s sightline had fallen to Javier’s neck. His chest may have now been covered, but the silver chain still poked out from beneath the seam of his shirt.

She poured them a bonus shot each and raised her glass. “Welcome to the family.”

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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fire-but-ashes-too · 9 months

Text

(Writerblr) intro post!

Hi! welcome to my blog! this is my (very late) writerblr/general/artblr intro, or just somewhere with all my general informations :)

please, go on and read *bows*

☆ Ash is my name on here and i go by she/her

★ Im a teen writer and artist, but i dream of acting

☆ im from italy

★ pan ace and quoiromantic (or wtfromantic its the same) (im still kinda questioning tho??? probs demiromantic??? idk?? feelings r weird atm)

☆ entp and introvert

★ im always up for tag games or stuff like that :)

☆ recently added tags! #ash writes- my writing ofc #ash and her rants- just me talking abt random stuff could be anything serious or not #ash on fire- probs me fangirling over something lol i may get overexcited beware

★ i relate to a spiritual and psychological level to black cats and all theur other forms (aka regulus black, tori spring, aristotle mendoza etc etc etc)

i mostly write fantasy or fanfiction, but sometimes i engage in various genres as mystery, dystopian or surrealism :)

★ So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since

genre: fanfiction

audience: general/ teen and up

tropes: rivals to lovers, college AU, slow burn, a lot of fencing, paris✨

cw/tw: past rape/non con, ptsd, homophobia, wounds/blood

progress: i try to update every week but nothing's promised 🥲

snippet here:

Years ago he’d learned to mask his handwriting, so now he could easily forge any handwriting he wanted, if he was given a good example of it being used. There was something extremely interesting in how each person connected two letters to each other. How they wrote an “ar” was different from how they would write an “or”, how much the words were apart from each other and how much pressure they put in the paper told a lot about someone, to him it was like zodiac signs. He didn’t always have to copy other handwritings, not unless he wanted to throw the blame on that person. He just had to invent a brand new writing style, and be careful to not slip his between the cracks. And that’s exctly what he did in the letter. Before Jesper could finish his monologue about how much he had missed out in the past few months holed up in his office, a blackmail threat was ready to be closed inside the paper envelope, just the signature was missing, but he didn’t bother to add it. A proper threat always had to be anonymous, it was always better to give as little information you could. Everything could be used against you. The maroon wax sealed the opening with a satisfying fizzling and a single wisp of smoke. The clock chimed on the wall, it was already 6 pm, he had to go finish some assignments.

(previously titled: questionable decisions)

☆ The Rogue

genre: fantasy, dystopian

audience: teen and up

setting: a fantasy world im currently busy (trying) building

progress: just vibes really, two mainc characters, a couple sides and an outline plus one of the first chapters, not much really but im working on it

characters:

anne: the rogue from where i took the title.

shes a 17 y/o girl who lives in a bunker in a forest, on the run from the government as she's a "high traitor and liar who must be destroyed".

she has the ability to modify her face and appereance for a while and she has a prosthetic arm connected to her virtual friend Indigo.

thanks to it she's able to teleport and keep track of various things.

alexander: the son of the dictator, he's lived his life in a bubble until 2 years ago, when he finally managed to get more social contacts with people and (slightly) catch up on what he's missed, behind his father's back of course.

he meets anne when she's captured and figures she's his best shot at escaping his father domain.

snippet:

This time, she materialised in the shadows behind a bulding, which gave her enough cove for her to shift her facial features. Her nose a little bigger, her hair some shades brighter, her eyes more elongated and greener than the grass growing outside her doorstep and a splash of freckles to top it all off. It was way harder to do it without a mirror, and way more dangerous. For all she knew, she could’ve been looking like a girl with a fish head, and she didn’t know if that would be better or worse than looking like herself. Anne took out a hat and a silk scarf, she wrapped it around her neck and jumped in a group of tourists gazing at the city. In no time she was in the square, vendor’s stands circling her, colourful flags waving in the wind. She could’ve stayed like that for ever, stuck in the memories of her old life, but she knew it couldn’t last forever.

★ Flowers and Homicide

genre: mystery

audience: general

cw/tw: blood, dead bodies, autopsies

main character: Giada

she's a forensics student who one day stumbles (metaphorically) over a dead body in her neighbour's lawn and starts investigating.

progress: actually finished but in italian sadly so in the translation process

☆ Confessions of a timeless man

genre: short story, surrealistic

audience: teen and up

content warning: suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression

plot summary: a man is stuck living the same day over and over, after almost 10 years there, he tries to escape his curse by killing himself

progress: completed XD

(here's my ao3 btw)

you want to know more about me! why than you, here you go!

★ my favourite artists are Taylor Swift, Conan Gray, Arctic Monkeys, Chase Atlantic, Marina, Lana del Rey, Sabrina Carpenter, Mother Mother and Billie Eilish (theres more but i cant remember whoops)

☆ i have a veryyyy slight synesthesia

★ other than writing, art-ing and reading i love baking/cooking and crocheting

☆ theatre kid over here, always up for screaming my lungs out

★ uhhh im a vegetarian

☆ i know a scary amount about death and murder (especially poisons)

★ i dont have a specific vibe, it usually changes every few months or so

☆ i probably have anxiety but ive never been to therapy so idk 💀

★ always up for fangirling :3 (im in too many fandoms *cries* buuut im most active on pjo, marauders, grishaverse and osemanverse, musicals and some books that i have boards for on my pinterest :D)

☆ i am terribly scared of insects, needles and dogs

★ my (quite unusual) sport is aerial dance, a circus speciality that looks really cool but is acctually really painful

☆ my pinterest, spotify and goodreads if by some reason you're really interested in the chaotic human being that i am :)

thank you for reading this farrr🥹🥹

have a great day/night/life/existence/other :D

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slytherhys · 1 year

Text

Cruel Summer I

A/N: I would like to apologise simply because I've been in an all-out war with this chapter and it's taken me longer than what I wanted to finish it - I think I've rewritten it over 3 times simply because it never felt right. But I truly hope you guys like the final version and feel motivated enough to keep reading.

Also...she's a big one. 😳

TW: Strong language and eventual explicit content

Prologue - I - II - III

If there was one place in the world where nothing ever seemed to go wrong, it was the Archeron’s summer house, just 6 miles to the south of the city of Adriata.

Ever since they were little girls, driving up to that sunny house on the rocky coast of the city to spend the summer with Nana had felt like the closest thing to heaven a 7-year-old Elain ever knew.

To this day, there was nothing more comforting than the scent of salt and lemons, the sight of walls painted in every possible shade of blue, as if Nana had wanted to capture every single mood of the sea inside her own home.

Not for the first time, Elain wondered if that was one of the reasons why Nesta had been so adamant on celebrating her engagement party here – for what that old house represented. For the happiness that had brought them through their shaky childhood. As if by being here she could have the comfort of freshly baked goods and worn-out books in her future life – Nana’s blessing, in its own way.

It was at Nana’s house that Feyre had gotten her first canvas, using Nana’s old brushes to paint from morning until late afternoon - the very same brushes that Feyre still kept somewhere in her studio even after all these years. It was where Nesta and Nana had spent entire afternoons reading and drinking fresh lemonade, while Elain sat under the lemon tree and tried to draw all of her favourite flowers in the garden overlooking the sea. Memories of laughter and sorrow, of growing up surrounded by her favourite people seemed to follow as she crossed the empty house and stepped into the terrace. Memories of love and happiness. Whereas she’d usually smile at their comforting presence, today they seemed to mock her.

Elain squinted against the setting sun, the sea breeze ruffling her satin dress against her skin, the salty scent a gentle reminder that she was home. It ought to feel comforting, but try as she may, all Elain felt was the sweat under her arms, the beating of her erratic heart pressing against her ribcage. It was all she could do not to throw up the champagne she had picked up at the entrance – mainly since her stomach seemed to riot at the very thought of seeing him again.

The terrace was crowded, people Elain had never seen before talking with familiar faces mingling, laughter and chatter a steady sound that played along the soft jazz playing in the background. All around the terrace, fairy lights illuminated the evening sky, creating a sort of romantic ambience that could only be achieved in Adriata in the summer. Food was served, as were glasses of champagne, sangria, and lemonade. People danced, flirted, and chatted, happy to celebrate the love between two of her favourite people.

It was absolutely lovely – it was a shame Elain felt completely out of place.

But it all still felt like a victory – for the first time in six long, lonely months, Elain had finally felt ready face her family and finally stop running away from her own mistakes. So what if that meant spending entirely too much money on a new dress? So what if it meant getting her hair done and spending almost two hours locked inside her hotel bathroom trying to perfect her winged eyeliner?

Sometimes looking good is the best armour, she could almost hear Nana say, her voice raspy and familiar. And she had to agree, albeit a bit reluctantly. As shallow as it was, the thought of not looking her absolute best, of not seeming as happy as she ought to be, made her nauseous. Mainly when he would surely be there.

Hence the 260 dollars spent on a lavender satin dress.

However, as her eyes scanned the crowded terrace, she couldn’t help but wonder if it had all been for naught. She didn’t feel strong – she highly doubted she looked it.

Deep down, she knew there was nothing to be worried about. As far as anyone was concerned, Elain had simply been too busy with her new promotion to come around as much – or at all – so there wasn’t much she needed to explain. She didn’t need to explain the sleepless nights, the hair colour changes, the amount of times that she had opened her store with puffy red eyes and a heavy heart. And all over a man that hadn’t tried to reach out once.

How ridiculous was that?

Feyre and Nesta certainly didn't need to know about all of that. She had already earned enough pity stares and condescending pats on the back once - she hardly needed to prove to them that she was the naive little girl they thought she was.

Even if they were right, Elain thought with a wince.

Maybe coming hadn’t been the best idea, after all. Maybe even with the dress, and the make-up and the therapy sessions, she wasn’t ready to face her family. To face him. Six months didn’t really feel like that long if she really thought about it. And maybe Nesta would forgive her for leaving. Maybe she could later explain that something had come up and-

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were about to bolt out of my engagement party.” Her older sister’s voice interrupted her inner turmoil, making Elain choke on her drink, tearing up as she stared at Nesta. Her sister smiled warmly, her blue eyes taking in Elain’s appearance from head to toe. Elain was relieved to see there was no anger behind them.

Nesta looked stunning – a pretty halter satin dress that wrapped around her curves like that had been the only purpose for its creation. Her long brown hair was up in a bun, the diamond earrings Cassian had given her for Christmas glistening under the fairy lights. Elain smiled, ignoring the wave of memories that threatened to drown her at the sight of that particular gift. It wasn’t the time for that.

If she were lucky, there wouldn’t be a time for that at all.

Elain grinned under Nesta’s intense scrutiny, wrapping her arms around her older sister. “Your engagement party, Nesta.” She said as way of greeting, still not quite believing it was truly happening. “I still can’t believe you're getting married.”

Nesta smiled, eyes going distant for a second. “Sometimes I can't either.”

Nesta and Cassian had butted heads more often than not, but finally seeing them accept the love they obviously had for each other had felt like everything was finally aligning.

She’s finally going to be mine, Ellie. Cassian’s voice had been heavy with emotion on the phone, as if still not entirely sure his words were true.

Elain had cried for hours, feeling like maybe, despite everything they had gone through during their childhood, there was still hope. Both her sisters were happy and loved by incredible men. So what if she was the only one left, as her family members enjoyed remembering her constantly? So what if she could already feel their assessing stare as she stepped away from Nesta’s embrace, as if already planning all the ways they could criticise her or, even worse, set her up with the endless line of single sons her neighbours all seemingly had.

She shuddered, eyes darting away from Aunt Lyla.

“My engagement party.” Nesta pulled away, raising a brow. “The one you’re 20 minutes late to.” She said, and despite the teasing tone to her voice, Elain could still hear the hurt lingering under her words. And could she blame her? It wasn’t like she could exactly explain.

I’m sorry I’m late! I had two mental breakdowns trying to get my makeup right and when I finally did, I cried and made a mess of it, so I had to do it again. Then my body didn’t feel like my own, even as I put on an entirely too expensive dress and shoes that pinch my toes every two steps. And you know why? All because I’m so desperately in love with someone who doesn’t give a shit about me. Because I wanted to look good. I wanted him to regret hurting me.

She highly doubted that sounded sane.

“I’m sorry, I-” she stammered.

“Where are your things?” Nesta eyed her hands – empty except for the empty champagne glass she had been wearing as an emotional support prop. Now, she felt as if maybe she shouldn’t be drinking at all – not with the piercing stare her sister was giving her.

Elain furrowed her brows. “My things?”

“Didn’t Cassian text you?” Nesta asked, walking to the back of the terrace, throwing a look over her shoulder that told Elain she was supposed to follow. And she did without complaint.

Elain eyed another glass of champagne, wondering if grabbing a second one would be a good idea. “He texted me the address,” Elain frowned as she watched the bar, still following Nesta as they crossed the room. “Not that I needed the reminder of where Nana’s house was, but I appreciated the effort.”

Nesta scoffed slightly, eyes scanning the crowd – probably for her ill-doing fiancé. “I sent him the exact text he needed to send. All he had to do was copy and paste. Even forward the message if that was a little too hard. And still-”

Elain stopped Nesta with a soft touch to her arm. “Hey,” she smiled. “Everything’s okay.”

Nesta bit her bottom lip, eyes worried as she scanned the room again. Elain swallowed, a bubble of unease making its way up her throat.

“Everything’s okay, right?” She asked, voice low as she noticed Aunt Lyla eyeing them with a gleam in her cold eyes.

Nesta smiled unconvincingly. “Of course,” She sighed. “I’m just nervous.”

“What should Cassian have told me?”

Nesta shook her head, eyes focusing on everything but Elain. “Might as well just tell everyone at the same time.” She said, as if that eased Elain in any shape or form.

A torrent of scenarios flooded her mind – maybe they weren’t getting married after all; maybe they were already married; maybe they all knew Elain was embarrassingly in love with Azriel and this was some sort of intervention filled with people she had never seen before; maybe their dad wasn’t coming.

Elain shook her head slightly, startled to see Nesta was already a few paces ahead, heading straight to the very same people Elain had hoped to avoid for a bit longer – even if she was craving their hugs desperately.

Rhys and Feyre were standing by the large oak table overlooking the sea - the same one where they had shared every meal with their Nana when they were little. He had his arm around Feyre's waist, his white shirt contrasting beautifully against his dark skin. Feyre was laughing, her blue dress making her eyes stand out, even against the vast of the sea. Cassian was all lazy smiles, a beer in his hand as he told what was probably a very interesting joke.

Elain almost waved at them, trying to get their attention, but Nesta had other plans.

“You didn’t tell her?” Nesta shrieked, slapping Cassian’s bulky arm as soon as she reached him. Cassian startled, spilling some of his beer as he turned to his fiancée, eyes heating once they trailed the slope of her curves.

There was nothing like being around her sisters and their partners to make Elain wish she was less observant.

“What didn't I do?” He smirked, leaning back against the stone wall as his eyes found Nesta’s. For a second, it was as if the entire world ceased to exist around them.

That is, until Nesta growled and physically stepped away from Cass.

“You didn’t tell Elain!” She said, outraged. Cassian’s eyes widened slightly, flickering to Elain’s hovering form. He grinned, handing his beer to Rhys and taking two steps before wrapping his arms around her.

“Ellie!” He said, pulling her a few inches up from the ground and planting a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

Elain smiled despite herself. “Hi Cass,” She squeezed him back. “Heard you were getting married?” She teased, making Cassian chuckle as he set her down.

“As soon as possible, too.” He said, eyes softening as he pulled Nesta to his side, dropping a sweet kiss on her temple. Her sister beamed up at him, pure joy in her eyes even if she were trying to seem mad.

“Elain!” Feyre pressed a kiss to her cheek, smiling as Rhysand gave her a hug. “We’ve been waiting for you.” Feyre said as she leaned against Rhys, his hand wrapping around her waist like it was the natural thing to do. She supposed for them it was. “Are you already settled in?”

Elain chuckled, eyeing everyone as they stared at her. Nesta simply looked away, her eyes scanning the crowd even as Cassian pressed a kiss to her cheek, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. “I am, I got in last night.”

Cassian look at her then, furrowing his brows as he smiled, confused. “No, you didn’t.”

Elain raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“We’ve been here for two days, the first person to get here was-”

“Where have you been staying, Ellie?” Rhys cut in, ignoring the glare his best friend sent his way.

“At the hotel on main street.” She smiled uncertainly, noting the look Cassian sent Nesta, unease building inside her stomach as the seconds ticked by.

“The hotel?” Feyre frowned, eyeing Nesta for a second before her gaze returned to Elain. “Hasn’t Nesta-”

“Let’s wait for everyone to get here.” Nesta interrupted swiftly, making Rhys raise an eyebrow. He mumbled something under his breath, earning a glare from Nesta and a soft nudge from Feyre.

“Hasn’t Nesta what?” Elain asked, eyes flickering between the four people standing in front of her.

“He will be here any second now.” Nesta said, grabbing a canapé from the table and shoving it into her mouth – to avoid further conversation, Elain was sure.

Fuck, something had really happened, hadn’t it? “Is everything okay?” She asked Nesta again, eyeing Cassian for good measure, who simply gave her a sympathetic smile. Nesta simply kept eating small entrées, sharing nervous glances with Feyre. "Nesta." She pushed.

“I want to have this conversation only once, so let’s just wait for everyone to be here.”

“Who’s everyone?” Elain all but whined, her heart racing inside her chest. She knew who everyone was – knew exactly who they were all waiting for. She just didn’t want to admit it, to face it.

Nesta raised a brow. “Who do you think, Ellie?”

Feyre bit her lip, Rhys smirking behind his wine glass as they both look away. “I’m not sure.” She said, laughing nervously as she wiped her clammy hands on her dress.

“Just tell her.” Feyre sighed, leaning back against her husband in defeat.

“But-”

“Fucking hell, tell me what?” Elain snapped, wincing as everyone turned to look at her.

“Fine!” Nesta huffed, pasting a bright smile on her lips before her eyes settled on Elain. “We’re spending the next two weeks here.” She said simply, as if that made any fucking sense.

It didn’t.

Elain frowned. “Why are you and Cassian spending two weeks here?”

Feyre turned her head towards Rhys, whispering something that made him chuckle. Nesta eyed them nervously before turning her attention back to Elain.

Jesus, this was a shitshow.

She could feel sweat running down her back, her breathing ragged as Nesta explained, “Not just me and Cassian.” She said, holding her fiancé’s hands as if needing the support. “All of us.” She said with a firm nod.

“What do you mean all of us?” She chuckled. “I don’t know if I can-”

“All of us.” Nesta pressed, as if it were obvious. “I already talked with your friend and he didn’t mind holding your shop for the time being.” Nesta shrugged, once again acting as if that was a normal thing to do. As if she could just make changes in her life and Elain had to be okay with it.

She took a deep breath, urging herself to calm down and not ruin her sister’s engagement party. Cassian was fidgeting, as if physically unable to stand the tension that suddenly seemed to surround them. Elain felt like she could choke on it.

“The next two weeks are for Cassian and me, Feyre and company,” Rhysand rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his wine. Unbothered, as only he managed. “you and-”

No. Not happening. “Why?”

Nesta sighed, as if she was the one being insufferable. “Because I’m getting married, Elain.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, in months.”

Rhysand snorted, making Nesta narrow her eyes. Cassian fixed his throat, sending Elain an apologetic smile. “Not really.”

“What do you mean not really?”

Nesta rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she eyed Cassian nervously. “Stop asking stupid questions. What do you think it means?”

“When, exactly, is the wedding?” She gritted through her teeth.

Nesta squared her shoulders, raising her chin as she said, “Well,”

“When?” Elain pushed.

“In two weeks.” Rhysand added helpfully, earning himself another nudge from Feyre.

“Rhysand!” She reprimanded, but he simply pressed a kiss to her cheek, ignoring the glare Nesta sent his way.

“Just put her out of misery, Nesta.” He deadpanned, making Nesta bristle.

“Thanks.” Elain muttered.

“It wasn’t your fucking place-”

“Nes, it’s not a big deal.” Feyre interrupted gently, trying to keep everyone calm.

That she grabbed Rhysand’s glass of wine and drank it all went unacknowledged by all of them.

“It is to me!” She huffed, glaring at their little sister. “Why are you always taking his-” Elain tuned out, suddenly feeling too hot.

Two weeks. They were all going to spend two weeks together in the same house – a house that once upon a time had become her escape, her safe space where all things were bright and pretty. All because, for whatever reason, Nesta and Cassian were getting married in two weeks. And there was a reason, Elain was sure of it. Nesta liked planning too much for it all to be a casual agreement.

“In two weeks?” Elain asked, needing verbal confirmation. “Why so soon?” She wondered if they heard her – then wondered if she had spoken too loudly when they all fell silent. Rhysand reached for two more glasses, handing one to Feyre. Nesta’s hand was still wrapped around Cassian’s, her knuckles white where she squeezed his fingers. Why Elain noticed that, she didn’t know.

“Why not?” Nesta challenged.

“Why are we staying here?” She pressed.

“Is that important?”

“I’m apparently spending two weeks away from my shop so yes, I’d say so.”

“You spent the last six months in your shop, so I don’t see why that would be a problem.” Nesta snapped, taking a deep breath as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Everyone else remained quiet, including Elain. It wasn’t like Nesta wasn’t right, so there wasn’t much to say anyway.

“Because” She tried again. “I want us to celebrate together before the wedding. We want to be able to celebrate everything with the people we love.” Her voice was gentler, her hand still tightly wrapped around Cassian’s. She briefly glanced at Feyre’s husband. “And Rhysand can come too.”

“Funny.” He drawled, but not even their usual bickering turned Elain’s attention away from the fact Nesta Archeron was nervous. Nervous because she thought Elain would leave, that Elain would rather be in her shop than to take two measly weeks off to celebrate one of the happiest times of her sister’s life with her. Nervous because she had planned a two-week getaway at their childhood home just so they could have a little bit of happiness before everyone was off to their own lives, away from each other as they had been for the past six months.

Mainly thanks to her.

Could she ever turn away from the people she loved the most? No, she couldn’t. Not even when it meant spending two weeks facing the very same mistakes that made her stay away for so long.

Elain turned to Rhys, frowning. “You took the weeks off?”

Rhys shrugged. “We all did.” He smiled softly, turning his attention to Cassian. “My best friend is getting married.”

“You’re telling me Azriel took two weeks off?” She said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. By the way Feyre raised an eyebrow, she doubted she had been all that successful.

“Well… Yeah.” Rhys said, eyes flickering around the group. “I approved his vacation myself.” He eyed her carefully. “Why, Ellie?”

She shrugged; aware she was threading a very dangerous line. “Seems unlikely.”

Rhys exchanged a look with Feyre, and for the first time Elain felt annoyed. How was it fair that they seemed to be able to communicate with one another with no words ever being said?

“He has never missed one of our gatherings, Elain.” Feyre added gently.

Unlike her, they didn’t need to add. “I know, but-”

“Azriel is staying.” Nesta said plainly. “I just need to know if you are too.”

Staying, meaning it was very likely he was already here. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it – how to feel about all of it. She couldn’t go away. She couldn’t leave her family simply because she was too much of a coward to face a man. Her Nana would be turning in her grave if she even dreamed of it.

So what if her heart was cracking open at the thought of having to see his face every day for two weeks? So what if she was supposed to celebrate love as if it were something to celebrate, when really it had broken her so thoroughly she hadn’t managed to go on a single date without wanting to throw up? And she had tried – she had tried to be the person her Nana wanted her to be, to be someone her sisters would be proud of. To be the person she had always been when she was with Azriel.

She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to do it – and if the hair dye, the sleepless nights, and the failed dates were any indication, she wasn’t.

But for her sisters, she’d do it.

“I’m staying, Nesta.” She nodded, smiling as she felt her decision settle into her bones, her resolve strong. “Of course I am.”

“I’m glad.” A too-familiar voice sounded from behind her, making her entire body freeze where she stood, her heart racing as she fought the urge to turn around. Feyre met her eyes, soft and so understanding she nearly sobbed.

Because behind her, Azriel Rosehall stood, a smile on his face, his eyes as guarded as they had been the last time she had seen him.

How did he manage to look so good when she felt as weak as she had the night she had left him in that foyer? How had her life changed so drastically while he got to look the same, be the same? It hardly seemed fair.

Elain raised her chin, squaring her shoulders as her eyes locked with his. The bastard simply smiled, as if no time had passed at all. “Hi El.” He tilted his head. “Long time no see.”

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