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#Sheriff was a unit too))

reasonsforhope · 3 months

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"The New York City Council voted to ban most uses of solitary confinement in city jails Wednesday [December 20, 2023], passing the measure with enough votes to override a veto from Mayor Eric Adams.

The measure would ban the use of solitary confinement beyond four hours and during certain emergencies. That four hour period would be for "de-escalation" in situations where a detainee has caused someone else physical harm or risks doing so. The resolution would also require the city's jails to allow every person detained to spend at least 14 hours outside of their cells each day.

The bill, which had 38 co-sponsors, was passed 39 to 7. It will now go to the mayor, who can sign the bill or veto it within 30 days. If Mayor Adams vetoes the bill, it will get sent back to the council, which can override the veto with a vote from two-thirds of the members. The 39 votes for the bill today make up 76% of the 51-member council. At a press conference ahead of the vote today [December 20, 2023], Council speaker Adrienne Adams indicated the council would seek [a veto] override if necessary.

For his part, Mayor Adams has signaled he is indeed considering vetoing the bill...

The United Nations has said solitary confinement can amount to torture, and multiple studies suggest its use can have serious consequences on a person's physical and mental health, including an increased risk of PTSD, dying by suicide, and having high blood pressure.

One 2019 study found people who had spent time in solitary confinement in prison were more likely to die in the first year after their release than people who had not spent time in solitary confinement. They were especially likely to die from suicide, homicide and opioid overdose.

Black and Hispanic men have been found to be overrepresented among those placed in solitary confinement – as have gay, lesbian and bisexual people.

The resolution in New York comes amid scrutiny over deaths in the jail complex on Rikers Island. Last month, the federal government joined efforts to wrest control of the facility from the mayor, and give it to an outside authority.

In August 2021, 25-year-old Brandon Rodriguez died while in solitary confinement at Rikers. He had been in pre-trial detention at the jail for less than a week. His mother, Tamara Carter, says his death was ruled a suicide and that he was in a mental health crisis at the time of his confinement.

"I know for Brandon, he should have been put in the infirmary. He should have been seeing a psychiatrist. He should have been being watched," she said.

She says the passage of the bill feels like a form of justice for her.

"Brandon wasn't nothing. He was my son. He was an uncle. A brother. A grandson. And he's very, very missed," she told NPR. "I couldn't save my son. But if I joined this fight, maybe I could save somebody else's son." ...

New York City is not the first U.S. city to limit the use of solitary confinement in its jails, though it is the largest. In 2021, voters in Pennsylvania's Allegheny County, which includes Pittsburgh, passed a measure to restrict solitary confinement except in cases of lockdowns and emergencies. The sheriff in Illinois' Cook County, which includes Chicago, has said the Cook County jail – one of the country's largest – has also stopped using solitary confinement...

Naila Awan, the interim co-director of policy at the New York Civil Liberties Union, says that New York making this change could have larger influence across the country.

"As folks look at what New York has done, other larger jails that are not quite the size of Rikers will be able to say, 'If New York City is able to do this, then we too can implement similar programs here, that it's within our capacity and capabilities," Awan says. "And to the extent that we are able to get this implemented and folks see the success, I think we could see a real shift in the way that individuals are treated behind bars.""

-via NPR, December 20, 2023

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marksbear · 1 year

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hi....... may i request a male reader who's really affectionate with everyone and constantly wants to cuddle up w the BAU team? he's like the personification of a cat — ⚰️

Hello! It's been a minute since I wrote for the BAU, so I would love to write this. Hope you enjoy ⚰!

Warnings! Not a total furry reader just have a personality and characteristics of a cat y'know, could be seen as platonic or romantic.

BAU X AFFECTIONATE MALE READER

-Caught everyone a bit off guard when it was your first day and you're already welcoming everyone with open arms. But Derek and Penelope gladly returned the hug. -Penelope is quick to warm up with you and show your affection right back. She just immediately bounces off your vibes and actions. -Reid was the most caught off guard. Since he's already stiff and awkward it took back when the new guy hugged him -Once everyone in the team gets used to your behavior and actions they'll love and protect you with all their hearts. -One of the ways Derek notices your having an off day is when you don't cuddle up with anyone as you usually do. Hotch immediately notices when you don't greet anyone with a hug or even a small hand on the shoulder. -Hotch occasionally reminds you that sometimes people have boundaries and limits of affection. -Emily is a bit surprisingly more willing to cuddle up with you on the jet. Sharing the seats together holding each other in a koala type grip. -Hotch not minding if you just walk into his office and sit on his lap and nuzzle up to him as he works on paper work. -Spencer just being Spencer thinks there's a more physiological reason for your behavior and wants to ask about your childhood or your personal life, but too nervous to ask. -Derek having to pull you off other agents from different states/ from different units. "Y/n. We have plenty of time to cuddle with the agents after we so love this case."

-Hotch becoming protective of you in different states. Especially when they underestimate you because of how you act around the team. "Don't underestimate Agent L/n. He's in the FBI for a reason. Don't mistake his kindness for weakness."

-Sometimes when it is hard on the field and you are all flying back home in the jet. You'll gather everyone up on the couch and help them all get comfortable before laying down with them. Now it's just a big cuddle pile of tired FBI agents.

-Spencer was the one to finally point out how you remind him of a cat. Now everyone wouldn't let go of calling you a cat. To the point Derek sometimes narrates your every movement like on some animal documentary. "Look at the wild Cat. Only one left of the L/n breed. Watch how it's going into his natural habit." Derek narrates watching you go into Hotch's office. it's like an inside joke for only you and the team is supposed to know.

-If anyone else calls you "Cat." Like some random agent/ sheriff they're gonna get looked at crazy by the team. And exchange looks and side eyeing the person.

-Going inside Penelope's little bat cave spending hours cuddling while you nap on her.

-Catching everyone off guard by your little "cat naps." One minute you're talking about random stuff while drinking coffee. Then all of a sudden you put your head down on your desk for about twenty minutes later your back up yapping.

-Spencer saw you about fifty times before watching you fall to small- HUGE height for you to still land on your feet. Becomes a bit suspicious of you.

-The BAU watches you do parkour/ climbing things as you chase off an unsub who's on the run. "Get that bastard Y/n!" Derek shouts looking at the roof of a tall building watching you chase the unsub.

-Penelope buys you a pair of cat ears like hers.

-You making group hugs be mandatory after each hard case. Just to keep in mind you didn't lose any of your family today.

THE END

#criminal minds x male reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x male reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid #penelope garcia #penelope garcia x male reader #x male reader #male reader #the bear club

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wheresarizona · 7 months

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Learning to Live Part 24

summary: It’s just a regular Friday, until someone from Javier’s past comes to your work to reveal secrets he’s kept from you—it’s a lot to hear about the terrible things your boyfriend allegedly did in Colombia.

rating: E (18+! Age gap (about ten years), Soft Javier Peña, Switch Javier Peña (He goes from very subby to very dommy), explicit smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (f and m receiving), deepthroating, a dash of mutual masturbation, light bondage (the tie is used again but on Javier), vaginal fingering, breeding kink, teasing, safe word usage, body worship (f and m receiving), dirty talk, praise kink (there’s a good boy), spit mention, begging, (1) spank, anal mention, angst with a happy ending, arguing, miscommunication, confessions, PTSD, nightmare (nothing graphic), emotional hurt/comfort, unhealthy coping mechanisms, Javier breaking down, some medical talk (nothing graphic), talks of the future, Javier quoting Gomez Addams)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (reader is a nurse with no physical descriptions)

word count: 19.1k (Buckle up, everyone)

a/n: Thank you so much for all of the love and support for this story, it means the world to me! I am very proud of myself for getting this done in less than two weeks. I might take a tiny break before the next chapter just so I don’t burn myself out. Big thanks to @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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Friday, November 6th, 11:23 AM

Laredo’s hospital wasn’t even half the size of the one you worked at as a nurse in Dallas, which meant not all of the specialties they had doctors for had separate wings. This translated to your post-operation department getting the majority of the patients from the various surgeries done. Someone had a double-bypass performed on their heart? You were the one taking care of them. Hip replacement? They’d be under your supervision. An appendectomy? Another of yours. Basically, as long as they weren’t a child or having a child, they were coming to your unit to recuperate.

Compared to your last job as an emergency room nurse, this one was a breeze. The people you cared for were usually so hopped up on pain medication they either slept, watched television, or zoned out. The hospital wasn’t too busy, so you got to work regular hours with weekends off, compared to the multiple twelve-hour shifts you worked before, plus overtime. As an added bonus, the nurse who shared the shift with you had become your best friend.

Honestly, you were thrilled you moved to this small border town.

Well, except for all of the gossip.

After the first time Javier had shown up at your work to take you to lunch, you’d been the talk of the hospital as the woman he was dating, and you didn’t care. Still, it gave you unwanted flashbacks to the messy end of your last relationship years ago when you caught your ex, a cardiothoracic surgeon, banging another nurse in his office and having to deal with everyone whispering about it, learning they all knew it’d been going on for months—you’d sworn off dating anyone in your workplace after that, much to your parents chagrin.

At least here, it was people mostly shocked that your future husband was actually dating someone, making them curious about why you were so special.

It’d been months now since your relationship began, and the fascination had dulled down a little. Unfortunately, though, Javier would always be a hot topic of discussion amongst the townspeople, whether it be about him leaving Lorraine at the altar, helping take down Pablo Escobar, eliminating the Cali Cartel, dating you, or his work with the Sheriff’s office—he was basically a local celebrity, and he hated it, which was completely understandable.

It was almost lunchtime, and a new patient had been brought to your wing as he recovered from a minor heart surgery. Reading his chart, he was seventy-two and had a history of cardiovascular issues, seeing one other major surgery had been performed a couple years prior. He was still sleeping while you set him up in his room, his wife having gone to the cafeteria for food.

The sound of footsteps alerted you someone had entered the open door.

“Knock, knock,” Robyn, your co-worker and best friend, greeted in her Texan accent. You’d already gotten your patient connected to his IV that was currently pumping saline through the line and were now clipping the heart monitor onto his finger, the steady beeping of his heartbeat suddenly filling the air.

“What’s up?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.

The other woman’s long, chestnut brown hair was up in a high ponytail, her lips painted in wine-red lipstick, and she looked nervous, which was odd.

“Are you almost done in here? You’ve got a visitor…”

That had your eyebrows furrowing; not expecting to see anyone today.

“That isn’t Javi…?” you clarified.

He was the only one who came to see you at lunch.

“No...” She shook her head. “This man ain’t from around here… He said his name was Bill?”

That confused you even more; no one was coming to mind by that name.

“Did he give you a last name?”

“I didn’t ask.” She winced.

You snorted, shaking your head while turning your attention back to your patient as you double-checked your work to ensure everything was set up correctly. “I thought you learned your lesson about not asking men for their last names.”

The busty brunette walked closer to stand at your side as she whispered, “First of all, Seb is hotter than hell, and I only cared about knowin’ the name he wanted me screamin’.” Sebastián was Javi’s cousin whom Robyn took home the previous Friday from the bar, having no idea he was a Peña until he’d come by your work Tuesday to take her to lunch, and you had way too much fun revealing his identity. “Second,” she continued, “I usually don’t bother gettin’ last names ‘cause they’re just one-night stands.” She shrugged.

“He was at your place for literal days before you found out, which is crazy.”

“With the things he was doin’ to me, it really wasn’t important,” she replied with a smirk.

“Mhmm, it didn’t matter, but now that you know, it fills you with insane amounts of joy that you found yourself a Peña.”

She playfully slapped your arm. “Shut up. He is pretty great and stayin’ at mine for the weekend.” Her eyebrows wagged.

“He’s been staying at yours for the last week…”

“And how long has Javi been stayin’ at yours? That man came over on your third date and never left.”

“Touché. Aren’t Peña boys the best?”

“They really are.” Her voice went quiet, “Anyways, there’s somethin’ off about the man out there. He was askin’ if I knew where you were from and stuff about your family. Just odd things to ask a stranger, you know? So, I want you to talk to him in the hallway in case I need to call security and Javi, okay?”

Her concern had your hackles rising, wondering who this person could be.

“Yeah, of course.”

After finishing what you were doing, the patient settled in and was being monitored, Robyn told you she would do her rounds to check up on her own patients and listen for any signs of trouble from you.

Taking a deep breath, you readied yourself for whatever was about to happen, walking out of the room toward the end of the hall where the nurse’s station was. You noticed the man you’d never seen before leaning against the tall counter, looking your way with a smile.

The top of his head was bald, his face featuring a long, raggedy salt and pepper beard, dressed in dark jeans and a charcoal grey button-up under a dark green denim jacket.

“Hi,” you said as you approached, offering him your name, “—I heard you wanted to see me. How can I help you?”

He straightened, standing to his full height. “It’s more of how I can help you,” he replied, holding out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Bill Stechner, an old friend of Javier Peña’s.”

“Okay…?” This guy was too old to have gone to college with him, and it was weird he used Javi’s full name if he was supposedly a ‘friend.’ Robyn was right. There was definitely something off about him, and add in you’ve never heard of him before; this all seemed a bit fishy. Quickly, you shook his hand. “What exactly are you helping me with…?” you asked.

The smile on his face was almost predatory, and you didn’t like it one bit, unconsciously wiping your hand on your blue scrub pants.

“We’ll get to that in a minute.” He waved away your question. “Javier and I used to work together, and since I’m in town on business, I was dying to meet the woman who managed to tie him down.”

So, he tracked you down? Found out where you worked and came here? That was a little much to go through in order to meet a former co-worker’s new significant other… This guy had warning bells going off in your head because something wasn’t right.

“Okay…?” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. “You met me.”

“That I have, and I’m a little surprised.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyebrow rose.

“Well, based on the many, many women he had relations with in South America, I just wouldn’t expect you to be his type...”

Your eyes narrowed. Who the fuck was this guy? He really hunted you down to imply you weren’t as pretty as the other women Javi’s been with—what an asshole.

“Did you come here just to insult me? Because if that’s the case, you can fuck right off.”

“No, it’s great he ‘fell,’” he said the word sarcastically, making your jaw clench, “for you, and it’s wonderful you’re looking past all of the prostitutes he used for sex and information.”

It was weird this man felt the need to mention that, knowing a lot of your boyfriend’s informants had been sex workers he fucked, and it didn’t bother you—it had been a coping mechanism for the shit he was dealing with while down there, and he treated them well.

“Why are you bringing that up? Why are you even talking to me alone? You’re really not giving me a great first impression here, pal.”

He pressed a hand over his heart in faux concern. “I’m just looking out for your best interests and want to make sure you actually know the man you’re living with.”

“Right, my best interests…” you replied, sounding doubtful and doing your best not to roll your eyes. “So, what is my boyfriend apparently hiding from me that you felt it necessary to bother me at work?”

There was a tiny nervous fluttering in your belly over what this could be about, hoping it wasn’t anything serious, but having a feeling it was going to be about the one topic Javi avoided talking about:

Colombia.

“Javier and I go way back—I’ve known him for years, and we worked kind of closely while he was down in South America.” Your suspicion was correct, and you wouldn’t lie, you were curious about what he had to say. “I was wondering, did he tell you why he wasn’t there to catch Pablo Escobar?”

All you knew was Javi fucked up badly and got sent home before they got the drug lord.

“Please, enlighten me.”

“I get why he’d hide it from you in shame. I think if he ‘loved’ you, he would’ve told you all about what he’d done in Colombia and the crimes he committed working with Los Pepes.”

That was a low blow, and what crimes?

“Los Pepes?”

“Los Perseguidos por Pablo Escobar—The Persecuted by Pablo Escobar or Los Pepes were a paramilitary vigilante group created by opposing cartel members trying to kill Escobar, oh, five or six years ago. That boyfriend you share a bed with fed them classified information like locations of Escobar’s men and their family members, and boy, were they notorious for killing innocent civilians indiscriminately. They’d go after Pablo’s sicarios and kill anyone who had a connection to him or just happened to be there—wrong place, wrong time.” He shrugged the fucker. “Javier’s intel ended up starting a war between the Medellín cartel and Los Pepes, both sides murdering many innocent men, women, and children, and that’s why he was sent home before they caught Escobar. Did you ever hear about the bombing down there at a shopping center the week before school was about to start?”

It took you a second to answer as you processed what he told you. “Vaguely,” you answered.

“Killed a bunch of kids and their families while they were getting school supplies and clothes—we know it was Escobar who planted it, and it wouldn’t have happened if things hadn’t gotten so out of hand with the leaked information. If you don’t believe me,” he continued, “I brought this interview by one of the leaders of Los Pepes so you can read about it yourself.” That’s when you saw him holding a rolled-up newspaper in one of his hands, the header reading The Miami Herald. “It talks about Javier’s role in it all and how big it was—if he hadn’t given the intel, a lot of lives would’ve been saved.”

It was a lot to take in, hearing about what Javi had supposedly done, and it was harder to imagine him doing such things because he was a caring, kind, honorable, and good man—there was no way in your mind he would’ve condoned so many innocents dying, and with how odd this whole visit was, you were taking what Bill was saying with a grain of salt. There were probably some truths in there, but definitely not all because it made zero sense with the fact your boyfriend was twenty minutes away at his office, and not locked up in a prison cell.

Fuck ‘looking out for your best interest,’ this man was trying to turn you against Javi by telling you these terrible things, making it clear he absolutely was not a friend of his—he did not come here with good intentions; it was crazy he even came here at all. What you were assuming with all of the effort he put into this was there was bad blood between the two men, and this was Bill’s way of getting back at him—what pissed him off so much he was keeping tabs on your boyfriend? If he found you and your place of employment, it looked like he was keeping tabs on you, too, which was a little scary. He said he worked with Javi, which made you think he was a part of an alphabet agency, maybe DEA? CIA? FBI? Whichever it was, he had the resources to be a fucking creep, and you hated what he was trying to do to your boyfriend, so you’d give him a taste of his own medicine and fuck with him a little.

“No,” you gasped in pretend shock, covering your mouth with your hands. “My Javi, really did these horrible things you’ve told me about?”

Stechner tried to make his face look somber, but his gaze told you he was happy by your reaction.

“Unfortunately, he did,” he replied, nodding his head.

“He really did these horrible things that would’ve definitely landed him in prison had he actually done them?”

Again, you knew there had to be some truth since he did get sent home.

Bill frowned. “He got lucky...”

Uncovering your mouth, you said, “Let me get this straight. Due to the classified intelligence Javi gave to this vigilante group, he started a war, and a lot of innocent people were murdered, but he ‘got lucky’ and avoided any and all jail time? Not only that, he was given a promotion to take down the Cali cartel… Something isn’t adding up here, Bob—”

“It’s Bill.”

“You lost name privileges when you basically called me ugly, Dick. Now, as I was saying, something isn’t adding up here, Brad, and it’s the bullshit you’re trying to feed me since Javi already told me everything.” That was a lie, but this asshole didn’t need to know. “Was this how you were going to ‘help me’—” You made air quotes with your fingers. “Tell me some fucked up shit you thought I didn’t already know, and hope I’d what, break up with him? Were you just hoping to ruin his happiness? He hasn’t worked for the DEA in almost two years. Why are you so obsessed with him? Wait—” A look came over your face like you had a realization. “—are you in love with him?” you loudly whispered. “Are you trying to get me out of the picture so you can take him for yourself?”

He looked disgusted. “What? No. That’s ridiculous.”

“And you keeping up to date on Javi’s personal life and trying to sabotage his relationship, isn’t ridiculous? Ballsack, this is fucking insane!” You threw up your hands. “You’ve got a screw or two loose in your head. So—” You jabbed him in the chest with your finger as you glared. “Listen here, you greasy-haired fuck. I don’t know who the fuck you are or who you think you are, but you’re not going to scare me away with shit I’m all too aware of from his past. Now get the fuck out of here before I make you, and pray I don’t tell Javi about this ‘cause I don’t think he’d appreciate whatever this fucking game is you’re playing.”

The plan was to call your boyfriend immediately to tell him everything.

Stechner scoffed, your arm falling as he set the newspaper onto the counter so he could slowly clap his hands.

“Aren’t you a little firecracker,” he said, his arms crossing in front of him. “I see why Javier likes you. You’re smart, too—maybe too smart for your own good.”

“That doesn’t sound threatening at all…” Your eyes rolled.

“No, no, it’s not. You’re spunky and smart. Definitely too good for him. Does he know all of your secrets, too? Like the one you’ve kept from your family of how you failed the MCAT—” That was the Medical College Admissions Test. “—and couldn’t get into medical school, so you went into nursing instead? I’m sure your parents loved that.” You ground your teeth. “Do you hate not continuing the family legacy?”

The answer was no because you didn’t give a single fuck about it and never had an interest in becoming a doctor—failing the test made you happy. It felt like a sign you were meant to do what you wanted and not what was expected of you.

Glaring, you replied, “It’s honestly none of your fucking business. I’ve got work to do as a nurse, so if you’ll see your way out.” You started walking around the desk.

“You may not have continued the legacy, but you’re still reaping the benefits of it. Just remember Javier likes using women—sex, information, money. You have something he wants, and once he’s gotten it, he’ll discard you just like the rest of them. I’ve known him for a long time, and he’s not a relationship kind of guy.”

Anger was bubbling in your belly at the audacity of this fucker.

There wasn’t a chance to respond when an alarm sounded from the computer on the desk monitoring patient vitals, seeing the one just brought in had gone into cardiac arrest.

“Fuck,” you whispered, picking up the desk phone and quickly hitting the numbers to page the on-call doctor about the emergency before turning to get the crash cart against the wall behind you, rolling it down the hallway as quickly as possible.

Robyn came out of a room.

“We’ve got a Code Blue!” you told her as you passed. “Man the desk and get rid of that guy!”

“On it!” She bolted in the opposite direction.

This job was something you’d been doing for so long that you expected the unexpected and were intimately aware things could change in a split second. A calmness came over you in situations like this, focusing on remembering your training and doing everything in your power to save the person’s life.

Time became a tricky thing because it felt like it stopped, yet it was also speeding by—you were doing chest compressions with gloved hands while trying to calm the frantic wife when the doctor finally arrived with another nurse, who escorted the crying woman out into the hall.

Five minutes had passed since the alarm sounded, and it only felt like one.

Assisting the doctor, you handed him items from the cart and did everything he said—the patient’s heart was beating, but he wasn’t completely stable.

A glance at your watch told you twenty more minutes were gone that you hadn’t felt slip by.

The call was made that a minor emergency procedure needed to be done with no time to get to an operating room. The doctor relied on local anesthesia while you and the other nurse helped.

When it was finished, forty-five minutes had disappeared in the blink of an eye, and the patient was finally on the mend.

The doctor spoke to the wife in the hallway while you and your colleague cleaned the room, letting her in once you were done and wheeling the crash cart to the storage room to restock it—the cart itself was small enough that it was easy to maneuver down the hallways and into the tiny rooms, colored fire engine red with many different sized drawers full of supplies you’d need in an emergency.

There was a sheen of sweat on your forehead, the adrenaline making your heart pound, and you couldn’t wait to drink some water when you returned to the desk, knowing your water bottle was there waiting for you.

Your back was to the door while you stuffed gauze into a drawer, hearing it open and close and someone stepping inside.

“So, my patient is okay,” you told Robyn. “A little impromptu surgery had to happen, and let me just say, I do not miss emergency medicine. I think I’ve been spoiled here with how chill things usually are.” Moving to a locked cabinet close by, you pressed a code on the keypad to resupply some medications in another cart drawer. “Today has been insane, though,” you said. Pausing, you remembered. “Oh god, I need to call Javi!”

“I’m here,” he said, making you squeak in surprise as you spun around to find your boyfriend standing just inside the room.

“Jesus, Javi, I thought you were Ro…” Your sentence trailed off as you took in his red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair, his tie loosened around his neck with a clear look of upset on his face. “What happened, baby?” you asked. Quickly, you were closing the distance, cupping his jaw when you were within reach. “What’s going on, Javi? Is your dad okay?”

It had you thinking the worst, with him appearing unexpectedly looking like this.

“My dad’s fine.” His lower lip was trembling. “I’m scared,” he whispered.

“About what?” You pushed your fingers into his hair. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

“Stechner talked to you.” His eyes were tearing up. “He told you about Los Pepes before I had a chance to tell you the truth, and he gave you a copy of the interview. You must hate me now.”

Your brows dipped together. “Babe, before I say anything else, you need to know I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit—I love you a lot.”

A tear rolled down his cheek, his arms pulling you into him, crushing you against him in a hug, feeling his body shaking as he sobbed. “Oh, baby,” you soothed, rubbing your hands over the back of his grey suit jacket, hugging him back. “That creepy motherfucker came here trying to scare me, but I clocked his bullshit the moment he said I wasn’t your type. I didn’t really take much of what he said to heart because it was obvious he was trying to make you look bad, but I would like to go over things with you to know what was true. Everything’s okay, Javi, baby. I still love you—I’ll always love you.”

His head came up with wet cheeks and reddened eyes. “The interview in the newspaper is bullshit,” he said. “Stechner’s with the CIA, and they were supplying Los Pepes with weapons and made her a deal to keep them out of it if she put everything on me. I gave them locations to a handful of Escobar’s men and fucking told them no civilians were to be harmed—I hated that shit.”

It was a relief to hear the truth.

Nodding your head, you replied, “This is why I called him out on his obvious lies. I knew you didn’t do all the stuff he said you did, and if you had, your ass would be in jail, and they definitely wouldn’t have made you the head bitch in charge to take down Cali.”

He huffed out an amused breath. “Fuck,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I was so fucking scared I’d lost you.”

“Absolutely not.” Your palms skimmed up his front to rest on his shoulders. “You definitely still have me.”

Looking you in the eyes, he replied, “I’m gonna tell you everything today. Everything. I need you to know so this doesn’t happen to me again.”

He held your hips.

“Only if that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“Okay.” You smiled at him, using your thumbs to wipe away the wetness on his face. “It’s exciting that I get to leave work early for our first family emergency.”

He was frowning. “You don’t have to leave early… I can wait for you at home…”

“And spend hours stressing yourself out? Nope, not happening. The night nurse still owes me for covering those three days for her—she’ll come in if I ask. So, give me a little bit to finish here, and I’ll meet you at home. Can you drive, or do you want to wait for me?” Your fingers worked to fix his hair.

“I can drive.”

“Then go to the apartment, take off these clothes—” You pulled on his jacket sleeves. “—get comfy on the couch and hang out until I get there. Can you do that, babe?”

Softly smiling, his eyes crinkling at the edges, he answered, “Yes, mi amor (my love).”

“Good. Now hurry and kiss me before Robyn comes in here to see if we’re fucking,” you said, puckering your lips.

He chuckled, his big hands gently cradling your face, like he was afraid you’d break, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. He melted into you, his body relaxing, his shoulders sagging—all of the tension in his body releasing, the relief evident that you were kissing him, that you still loved him, that he didn’t lose you. With your mouths fused, you imbued upon him your love, telling him with every caress of your lips that you were there, that everything was okay, that no one could ever get between you two.

Things began to get more fervent, Javi losing himself in desperation when he deepened the kiss—his arms wrapped around you, turning you both so he could press your back into the hardened surface of the door, pushing his slack-covered thigh between your legs while his tongue plundered your mouth.

This was something he needed—the intimacy, the closeness; he found comfort in your words, your touch, your body; knowing what you were doing soothed him and gave him peace.

You had to wonder how long he’d been sick with worry.

Had Stechner gone to his office right after seeing you?

You suspected he had and probably knew Javi was in a meeting until noon, the creepy fucker.

Threading your fingers in his hair, Javi was kissing you passionately, his thigh pressing into your clothed pussy and gently moving it side to side—the friction against your clit had sparks igniting in your center, grinding yourself on him for more pressure while he pushed harder, it feeling so good.

A knock sounded behind you. “Y’all better not be doin’ what I think you’re doin’,” Robyn said, loud enough for you both to hear.

Everything paused, and you detached your mouth from his, ignoring the pout on his kiss-swollen lips. “We’re not,” you answered her. “Things have stayed PG-13.”

“Dirty Dancin’ is PG-13, and that shit is horny as hell.”

You snorted. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

“Is Javi okay?”

Sliding your fingers into the hair above his ears, you pecked him on the tip of the nose, making him smile. “He’ll be okay.”

“Good. I called Carla—” She was the nurse who owed you a favor. “—and she’s comin’ in to cover for you.”

“You’re a fucking lifesaver, Robyn,” you said. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Just make sure to bring back the crash cart before you go.”

“Will do.” Her retreating footsteps could be heard, and your attention focused on the man in front of you, his big chocolate-colored eyes on yours, seeing in his gaze that he didn’t want to leave without you. If you had to guess, he would be exceptionally clingy for the next couple of days, and that was okay. “Do you wanna keep me company while I finish restocking the cart?” you asked him.

“Can I?”

“Yeah, just don’t distract me.”

“I won’t.”

That was hard to believe and made you smile.

“Uh-huh, okay, quick kiss, then I’m gonna finish my work.”

Slotting your lips against his, you kissed him momentarily, a sad sound leaving him when you broke apart.

Lightly pressing on his chest, you said, “May I please pass?” He had you caged in with your back to the door.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, taking a step away.

Getting back to what you were doing, the task was easy enough—check each drawer and replenish what had been used. You moved about the room grabbing things, and Javi was your silent guardian who’d touch you when you were within reach—a hand to your lower back, your shoulder, a soft grab of your ass. When you were done, he was hot on your heels as you returned to the nurse’s station, putting the cart back where it belonged, and getting your water bottle from the desk, taking a few long, refreshing drinks.

Robyn was in her seat, writing notes on a chart, Javi standing on the other side of the desk, patiently waiting.

Her head turned toward you, waving you to her so you crouched down while she whispered quietly enough so your boyfriend wouldn’t hear, “Hey, what do you want me to do with that newspaper?”

“Did you read it?” you asked just as softly.

“Yeah, I hope you don't mind. I didn’t know what it was.”

“It’s fine,” you reassured. “Be real with me. How bad was it?”

“Bad. Like, if what she’s sayin’ is true, it’s really surprisin’ he’s not locked up.”

“Yeah, not all of it is. That guy who brought it was a real piece of work. If he shows up again, call security immediately. He’s not welcome here.”

“Will do, and the paper…?”

“Just throw it out. I don’t want to read it.”

“I can do that. Now get goin’. I was real worried when poor Javi showed up lookin’ like an absolute wreck.”

“Yeah, I’ll explain later. Thank you!”

It was time to leave, your water bottle in one hand and Javi’s in your other. A quick stop had to be made at the locker room where you got your purse, your cell phone tucked inside, and showing the missed calls from Javi that made you frown.

He was quiet, the kind of quiet where he was lost in his thoughts, letting his worries and fears consume him—something he hasn’t done in quite some time with how well therapy has been working for him.

Stepping outside of the hospital, he paused, his eyes squinting in the sunlight as he looked over at you, scratching his mustache with his free hand. “Will you, uh, ride with me?”

This was why you needed to leave work early—he wouldn’t want to be alone. He needed you with him.

Smiling in reassurance, you replied, “Of course. We’ll come get my car tomorrow.”

A little smile appeared on his lips. “Thank you,” he said, ducking his head and leading you to where he parked.

His truck was taking up two spaces, cutting across them diagonally.

You were about to comment.

“Don’t,” Javi said, unlocking the driver’s side door, it squealing as he pulled it open for you. “I know I parked like an asshole.”

Smiling, you patted his cheek as you moved to get in. “At least you’re aware.”

He loudly sighed, following you into the cab, where you sat down in the middle of the bench seat beside him and buckled up, him following suit. Putting his aviator sunglasses on, his keys jingled as he fit one into the ignition, the truck roaring to life after a second, along with the whirring of the air conditioning.

Shifting into reverse, his arm went behind you as he looked back to get out of the parking spaces, then he put it into drive, and you were on your way.

Something on the passenger seat caught your attention, seeing a manilla folder.

“Did you bring work home?” you asked.

“What?” A look of confusion was on his face when his head turned toward you.

“The file.”

The blinker clicked as he turned onto the street.

“What file?”

Picking it up, you showed him. “This file.”

“Oh.” He squeezed the steering wheel so hard the leather loudly creaked while his attention returned to the road. “Stechner had that. It’s information on you.”

Your stomach did a somersault, looking at the folder in your hand. “Did you read it?” you asked.

“No, and I didn’t plan on reading it unless you wanted me to.”

“That’s very sweet of you. Now let’s see how much of my privacy has been invaded,” you said, opening it.

There was a small stack of papers inside, the first page showing your current driver’s license photo with all the details the DMV collected, such as your birthdate, height, weight, eye color, etc. It had your current address and the others you’ve lived at in the last ten years.

This just looked like a fact sheet about you.

“It’s crazy he had a dossier on me.”

“I can believe it…” Javi mumbled.

The next page featured your academic and employment history.

“Javi?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a secret…”

“Okay,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I want to tell you it…”

He glanced over, softly saying, “Only if you want to.”

“I do. You know how I told you I always wanted to be a nurse?”

“Yeah?” His attention went back to driving.

“Well, as you know, my parents kept my college money from me, and I had to work while also going to school, which was a big struggle—my sophomore year, I took the Medical College Admission Test to get into medical school so if I got in, my parents would pay for everything…”

When he looked over, his eyes were rounded under his dark lenses. “Are you secretly a doctor?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“What? No. I’m a nurse. I failed the test.”

“Is that… okay?” He focused forward again.

“Oh, yeah. My heart wasn’t in becoming a doctor, and yes, working and going to school was hard, but at least I’m doing what I wanted.”

“You are.” He smiled. “And you’re damn good at it.”

“Thank you! I helped save a man’s life today.”

“You told me. I’m proud of you, mi amor (my love).”

“Thanks. Okay, back to reading about my life.”

The next page had your financial information, and you quickly closed the file, hugging it to your chest.

Javi noticed, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Turning your head to look at his beautiful profile, you asked, “Did he mention anything about me you didn’t know?”

“Yeah, that you graduated top of your class which is really fucking impressive.”

“I guess…” You hated acknowledging your achievements. “Did he say anything else…?”

“No…? What are you worried he told me?” His eyebrows were pulled together when he chanced a look at you.

Taking a deep breath, you thought over what to say.

“I have another secret…” you finally said.

There was a deep frown on his face. “With how you’re acting, I feel like I’m not going to like what it is…”

“You know, I’m not entirely sure how you will react when you find out.”

“Well, my head’s been fucked today, so my immediate thought is you’re already married or some shit.”

“Who in the world would I be married to, Javi?”

“I don’t know, maybe that David asshole who cheated on you.”

“Daniel? Gross. I am not married… yet. The only person I’m marrying is you,” you said, knocking your shoulder against his.

That made him smile. “Good. ‘Cause you’re the only person I’m marrying.”

“There we go. It’s agreed.”

“So, what’s this secret?” he asked, looking over quickly.

“Oh, you don’t get to find out about it until we’re married, and my last name is Peña for legal reasons.”

He was quiet for a second, and you could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, making you nervous.

“There was something he kept talking about that I didn’t understand,” Javi said, scratching at his chin. “It didn’t make any fucking sense to me, so I’m gonna ask you a question, and you can answer yes or no.”

“What’s the question?”

The truck was stopped at a light.

“Are you secretly loaded?”

Your heart stuttered.

“Oh, he said something about money...”

His eyes met yours. “He said a lot about money and how I was only dating you for it—yes or no, Cielito.”

“Yes.”

He nodded, his gaze returning to the road as the traffic light turned green, continuing your journey. “Are you gonna make me sign a prenup or whatever it’s called? Should I get a lawyer?”

“My parents would be beside themselves if I didn’t, so no, I’m not.”

His hand moved to your thigh, squeezing it. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“I’d trust you with my life.”

He smiled at you. “I’d trust you with my life. How much?”

“Enough that our multiple children will get to go to their dream colleges and study whatever the fuck they want.”

It was like you could see his brain break as he comprehended what you said, having to turn his head back toward the windshield.

“Multiple?” he whispered, his throat working as he swallowed.

Honestly, it was adorable that was what he got stuck on.

You snorted. “I tell you I’ve got a good chunk of change, and you’re more excited over us having a bunch of kids.”

His head whipped toward you. “A bunch of kids?”

It made you giggle. “Babe, you are well aware we are having more than one. We’ll see how many I can pop out before my baby factory closes for business.”

The smile he gave you was so big his dimple appeared. “I really fucking love you.”

“I really fucking love you, too.”

This was a good conversation to keep his mind off of the day's events, setting the file on the empty seat next to you and cuddling into his side, lacing your fingers with his over your thigh. He kissed the top of your head before his eyes were forward once more.

“The house should have at least five bedrooms, maybe six,” he said.

The previous night, he’d brought up the suggestion of building a house, and you loved it, especially getting to live so close to Chucho, the two of you talking at length about what you’d want it to have.

“And yesterday it was four. At this rate, we’ll be at ten by tomorrow. How many babies do you want?”

“As many as you’re willing to have. I’d be happy with one or ten. It’s all up to you,” he answered truthfully.

“My vagina hurts at the thought of pushing out ten babies. I think that’s too many.”

“Ten is too many, got it. At least three…?”

“I can agree to three, for sure, and we’ll just see how we’re feeling after that.”

“Three kids,” he breathed, a beaming smile on his face. “I’m gonna have at least three kids, a wife, a dog, a house—living the fucking dream. Fuck, this is exciting.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“You deserve it, baby,” you said, leaning to kiss the dimple in his cheek. “You’ve spent enough of your life suffering and atoning for your past. It’s time for you to get your happily ever after, and I’m gonna make all your dreams come true.”

His misting eyes met yours. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for. I just love you so fucking much and want you to be happy.”

“I love you, too, and you make me happy. You’re everything to me; my present, my future, it all belongs to you.”

The rest of the ride was spent talking about nothing too important—asking how his meeting went that day, what he wanted to do over the weekend, what he’d like you to make him for lunch, keeping the conversation flowing all the way to him pulling into his spot at the apartment complex.

It was important that he was comfortable for the discussion you were going to be having, so after you both got inside, doing your usual ritual upon first coming home—removing shoes, emptying pockets, etc., a trip was made to the kitchen where a quick lunch was put together of peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches with chips as a side. The dirty dishes were left in the sink as you pulled him to the bedroom, where you both changed out of your work clothes and into something more casual; for you, it was an oversized t-shirt and some soft sleep shorts. Javi kept his boxer briefs on and wore a plain white t-shirt that stretched over his chest and shoulders.

There was silence again as he grabbed your hand this time and led you to the living room. He sat down on the couch, his back resting against the cushion with his knees spread, watching as you didn’t sit next to him like he expected but instead crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs with your chests pressed together. His arms automatically wrapped around you, your fingers pushing into his hair, knowing without a doubt talking like this would bring him the most solace.

His eyes were on yours as you kissed him, and he hugged you closer while your mouths melded, wanting him to feel your love and devotion. Your foreheads touched when your lips parted, his nose nudging yours.

“Do you want me to tell you what happened?” you softly asked. “I meant to call you, but one of my patients tried to die on me, which is why I didn’t answer my phone.”

“I, uh, thought…”

“I was ignoring your calls because your brain was being an asshole and making you think the worst?”

“Yeah… And when I called your work, Robyn was, uh, abrupt with me.”

“Oh, I don’t think she did it on purpose. Code Blues are stressful.”

“Yeah, I don’t think she did either. What did he say to you?”

“I’m not entirely sure what his game plan was because he started off the conversation by rubbing it in my face that you’ve slept with a lot of women, and definitely implied that, I am not as attractive as them.”

“That fucking prick,” he seethed. “You know you’re gorgeous.”

“I know I’m gorgeous to you, and that’s all that matters. Like, you’re very aggressive in making sure I know you’re attracted to me.”

His big hands grabbed your ass and squeezed while he kissed you. “Fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your lips. “Of course, I’m going to tell you.”

Pulling back, you looked him in the eyes. “Yeah, he lost all my respect and name privileges after that.”

His eyebrows creased. “Name privileges?”

You snorted. “Yeah, I called him things that weren’t his name just to be petty.”

He smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you replied and continued telling him about what Stechner had to say about Los Pepes and how you called him out on the lies by fucking with him. “—there was something that really bothered me, and it was the last thing he said about you liking to use women for sex, information, and money—which I know isn’t true. I just hated this guy's perception of you, which a lot of people seem to share. You’re not like that. Our first fight was literally about how you wanted us to contribute equally, and I’m pretty sure I initiate sex more than you.”

He nodded his head. “Yeah, you do. I haven’t fucked anyone more or had someone want me so bad—it makes me feel really good about myself.”

Smiling, you said, “You’re adorable. So, that was it. I didn’t read the newspaper.”

“Good.”

You frowned. “Kinda sucks, I could’ve accidentally come across it without knowing the truth... That stings a bit.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m not angry at you or anything, and I still love you with all my heart. This is gonna be a lot to take in. Are you nervous?” It was showing on his face.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Your nails scratched lovingly at his scalp, your gazes locked. “Don’t be. Relax, and just talk to me. Tell me all the terrible shit, and know that I’m still going to love you anyway.”

His mouth was turned down in a frown, seeing his eyes getting watery. “Promise?” he asked.

Sitting up a little, you held your pinkie out before you. “I pinkie promise, and you know the sanctity of a pinkie promise.”

He smiled a little, huffing out a breath while looping his pinkie around yours to seal the promise. You brought his hand up to kiss it. “There,” you said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Javi sniffled. “Okay. Let me hold you.” Wrapping your arms around his torso, you pressed your front to his, tucking your chin on his shoulder while he hugged you close.

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“Fuck, where to start. You probably wanna know more about Los Pepes.”

“I’m curious, yes.”

“Okay, well, that shit happened because a man died. His name was Horacio Carrillo…” He started by telling you who the man was: the first head of Search Bloc until it was disbanded because of how ruthless he was; he went to Spain for a while, then returned to head Search Bloc again, and was the only man Pablo Escobar ever feared.

“—he, uh, was really fucking determined to take down Escobar,” Javier said, “no matter what it took. He… Fuck, he even killed a kid…”

It was bad enough he’d gotten a former president’s daughter killed, but a child?

“What?”

“Yeah.” The emotion was heavy as he spoke. “The cartel used children as spotters, and one night, he rounded up some and shot one to set an example. He didn’t fucking care. It was too fucking much for me, baby. A kid. A fucking child. He just shot him in the head. A kid,” his voice cracked on the last word.

“I’m so sorry that happened, and you had to see it,” you said, hugging him tighter.

His hand moved to wipe his eyes. “I’m sorry it happened, too.”

“How did Carrillo die?”

“Me. I got him killed—I got him and his men killed.”

“What happened?”

“I fucked up…” An informant played him, she just didn’t know it at the time—she gave him what she thought was the location of Escobar, which turned out to be an ambush. Javier and Steve would’ve gone with Carrillo if it had been their choice, but bureaucracy ended up saving their lives, and now Javi lived not only with the guilt of getting the men killed but also surviving.

He was speaking roughly through his tears as he recounted everything. This was only a fraction of what he’d gone through, and it was all so awful. No wonder he was so messed up; he went through so much down there, and your heart was hurting for him.

“—Los Pepes forced me to meet with them, and I couldn’t fucking believe they were asking me to help them—thought it was a fucking joke; the people I was trying to put away wanting my help? Of course, I turned them down. Then the guy who took over heading Search Bloc wanted to use really dated methods to try and get Escobar—shit like search grids, which wouldn’t fucking work. That informant who screwed me over? She led us to a man working for the cartel, and when we followed him, we found one of Pablo’s top sicarios. I tried to do things right. I called for backup, but they fucking denied me, and I couldn’t let this guy get away.” He inhaled deeply. “You have to understand. I spent years of my life trying to get Escobar, and this happened not too long after my mom died, so I was desperate. I was still grieving and hating all the time I lost with her, and I had to get the bastard, so it wasn’t all for nothing.” He spoke slightly softer, “I just wanted to catch him like mi mamá (my mom) always said I would.”

“You wanted to make her proud, even though she was always proud of you.”

“Yeah… So, I felt like my hands were tied, and I made the call to Los Pepes. We got the guy, and I told them I’d give them intel, but I was only about killing Pablo Escobar, nothing else. I didn’t have to cut through any red tape with them, I called, and they went after the fuckers—it was easy. I gave them, I don’t know, five or six tips? Then shit got out of control between them and the cartel, and I was out. Killing sicarios is one thing, but innocent people? Fuck that. I didn’t sign up for that. I… I tried to save a lawyer who worked for Pablo.” He sniffled. “Knew where he was and kept it to myself ‘cause he had his kid with him—a teen son, and I wanted information from him. Another guy I worked with ratted them out to Los Pepes, and I found them both dead and stuffed in a trunk. I should’ve fucking made sure I wasn’t being followed.”

His body shook as he cried.

This man felt so much guilt over the deaths of these people, and he didn’t even pull the trigger. There was no way for him to know Carrillo would be so merciless and have it in him to kill a child. Javi had no reason to doubt the intel he’d been given by the informant was a trap. He’d done his best to protect the lawyer and his son but was betrayed. Other people did these dirty deeds, yet the man you loved felt responsible because he cared so damn much.

Him caring was his downfall.

Along with his desperation.

It made him take significant risks, like working with his enemy.

“Oh, babe,” you whispered, turning your head to kiss his neck. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Feels like my fault.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Fuck.” He sniffed, wiping his eyes again, having calmed down a little. “So, one of the leaders of Los Pepes wanted to turn on the rest and came to me for a deal. I got it approved, but fucking Stechner got her right out from under us and had me take the fall for Los Pepes and all the shit they did.”

“A coup.”

“A fucking coup.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna keep talking?”

“Yes. I think I told you the sex workers I’d meet up with were also used by Escobar’s men, and I’d pay them for any information they’d give me?”

“Yeah.”

“The first time I met up with one, her name was Carina. I only wanted to hear what she heard, and that was it, and I told her upfront the reason I was paying for her time.” He sighed. “My mistake was doing it at the brothel because she told me what she knew, and then I couldn’t leave without seeming suspicious or looking like a really bad lay—both things I didn’t want. Well, we had time to kill, and she was beautiful and willing, and yeah…”

“Ohhh nooo,” you deadpanned. “Sex with a beautiful consenting woman, the horror.”

He pinched your hip. “I couldn’t finish.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, she may have been consenting and beautiful, but it turns me off if I can tell the person I’m with is faking, and she was faking. Nice girl, though, and I did pay for the sex, but I didn’t make that same mistake. For a while, I’d only pay the girls I saw for their intel, and as we got to know each other better, the sex came naturally, and I became a favorite.”

“Of course you did.”

There was a pause, hearing him audibly gulp.

“Being a favorite almost got one of them killed,” he whispered.

“Oh, Javi,” you gasped.

“Her name was Helena, and because I didn’t save her in time, worse things happened to her.” He was getting choked up. “It was all my fault.” His breath stuttered. “She was just trying to get me information and got caught, and they did horrible fucking shit to her. It haunts me how I… Fuck.” He took a deep breath. “It fucking haunts me how I found her—everything that happened to her was because of me.” He was crying again.

You hugged him hard, kissing his jaw. “You still saved her life. She’s still alive, and that’s all that matters.”

“I shouldn’t have had to save her life. I shouldn’t have made her feel like she needed to take such a big fucking risk,” his words were laced with anger at himself. “Because of me, that poor girl is traumatized and has to live with what those monsters did to her, and I fucking hate that they didn’t suffer as we killed them. They should’ve felt more pain than they caused her and had to beg for death—they got off too fucking easy, and I hate it.”

Before now, based simply on how awful things were in Colombia, you thought there was a possibility your boyfriend may have killed someone in the line of duty.

He had never brought it up and had always been somewhat vague about his work with the DEA.

This confession? It had thrown you a little off-kilter at the reveal the man you were going to marry had killed multiple people, and not only that, but you were pretty fucking sure he had also dabbled in torture.

“They definitely deserved to suffer, and it’s absolutely wild I’m saying this: I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to torture them—I know you would’ve done a great job.” Maybe that was too supportive… “What happened to Helena?”

It was silent for a second.

“Javi?”

He spoke slowly, “Did you just encourage me to torture people and say I’d do a great job?”

“Javier, before this conversation, I never had confirmation you’ve killed someone, and now I do, and it’s apparently multiple someones, along with a side of torturing, which is a bit of a curveball. None of it freaks me out, per se. It’s just a lot to process, and based on what you said these horrible monsters did to Helena, slow and painful deaths sound warranted—I’m doing my best to comfort and support you while also absorbing all of the new lore about husband-to-be.”

“I’m sorry for throwing you a curveball...”

“If I’m being honest, I feel even safer with you and a little better about the gun you insist we keep in our bedroom.” That was the topic of your second fight when Javi sprung it on you two days after moving in that he’d gotten a small briefcase looking safe to keep his gun in under the bed—you previously worked in an emergency room in a big city; you knew what guns could do and weren’t a fan.

“‘Cause now you’re aware I know how to use it?”

You didn’t even have to look at him to know his eyebrow was raised. Sitting up, you were met with the expression you expected.

“Okay, first of all, you’re a Texan, and Texans have a weird fucking obsession with guns. Add in you’re also a cop, and it’s honestly surprising you only have one.”

“The others are at Pop’s.” Of course, they were. “I just brought over what I need to protect us.” Holding up his right palm to you, his fingers slightly spread, he said, “Feel my hand.”

“Feel your hand…?”

“Yes,” he replied, nodding toward it. “Feel it.”

“Okay…” Not entirely sure what was going on, you did as he said, sliding the fingers of your left hand over the rough skin on his palm.

“Feel the calluses?”

There was the one you first touched and some on his fingers.

“Yeah?”

“How do you think I got them?”

Meeting his eyes, you took a guess. “I’d had thought from working on the ranch doing manual labor.”

“No, these are gun calluses from using my service weapon so much.”

“Oh.”

Grabbing your hand, he brought your knuckles to his lips as he kissed each one, the contrast of rough and soft, taking your breath away.

“Yes, I’ve killed when I had to,” he murmured, keeping his gaze on yours. “I’ve done things to make people talk when I had to. I never particularly liked doing any of it, but I had a job to do.”

“I know you did.”

He nodded once. “I want you to feel safe with me,” he said, kissing the center of your palm. “I want you to know I’ll do anything to protect you. Anything. You’re safe with me.”

I’ll kill for you.

Was what he wasn’t saying out loud.

“I know I’m safe with you.”

“Good. It took a lot of work, but I got Helena out of Colombia to the US. It was something I needed to do after all she’d been through.”

“Have you heard from her?”

He huffed out a breath. “No. I don’t even know where she is. None of the girls I got out of there ever contacted me again, and why would they? We got what we wanted out of each other.” His lips turned down, frowning. “I’ve always worried about her and hope she was able to have a good life.”

Pushing back his bangs, you told him, “I bet she met a lovely man who treats her right and takes care of her, and they got married and had a bunch of babies.”

“That’d be nice. She deserves that.” He frowned. “I feel really fucking guilty about using the sex workers as informants and putting their lives in danger.” A loud sigh left him. “And sleeping with them. It was all fucked up.”

“Yeah, it makes sense you’d feel guilty. Especially with what happened to Helena.”

“Yeah.” His eyes closed. “Jesus, there’s still so much more I need to tell you.”

“Then lay it on me.”

He looked at you with big pleading eyes and didn’t even need to ask; you cuddled back against him, hugging him while he held you. His body was relaxed, and when he started talking, he didn’t stop.

It was a barrage of new information you had to process as quickly as possible while he got more and more upset by each thing he told you—a lot of people who were promised safety either: almost getting killed, being exploited, kidnapped, or murdered.

What you came to realize was he felt intense guilt about things he did and didn’t do, and the stuff he was guilty of? Haunted him, tormented him, he was covered in invisible wounds that gaped and constantly bled, keeping his sins fresh on his mind—no matter how hard he tried to close them and forget, the stitches always seemed to break and ooze. No wonder he took to therapy like a duck to water; it was probably the first time he’d known peace since college.

Then that fucker Stechner had to show up and undo all of the hard work Javi’s put into himself.

For you, it was a lot to take in. None of it made you think any differently of him. Instead, it gave you a better understanding of what he’d gone through and why he felt so poorly of himself. Yes, he did some terrible things and paid the price for them, having been remorseful about them for all these years.

In your mind, he was still a good man.

In your heart, you knew if he could go back in time, he’d do things differently.

That was all that mattered.

What really got to you was he’d been through hell—actual hell with all of the death and violence, Javier waking up every morning, never knowing if it’d be his last, and doing his best to survive. Living like that can turn you into a hard shell of a person, yet he managed to keep his softness.

If you had to guess, it was probably because of his mother—she was his soft spot, even after she passed. He had pictures of her in his apartments in Colombia and her rosary, keeping her alive with him and his humanity.

He was bawling in your arms about how he almost got General Hugo Martínez’s son killed by Los Pepes because he tipped them off and barely managed to get the young man out of the situation.

“—I fucked up so bad. I was always fucking up, and people died because of me. I was so focused on the job I became a heartless, fucking monster,” he sobbed.

“Hey, that’s not true,” you replied. “Yeah, you made mistakes, but like with Los Pepes, when things took a turn, you backed out and even tried to save a guy. You’re not a heartless monster. You’ve never been a heartless monster. You cared a lot about your job and getting it done, which caused you to do some really questionable things, but you still had a conscience—you weren’t murdering children in cold blood. You still cared about people. Javi, it’s not up to me to judge you for the stuff you did in the past, and I know how all of it eats at you, but you need to let it go.” His breaths had evened out, hearing him sniffling by your ear. “I love you, every part of you, even the imperfections, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He sounded stuffed up when he asked, “You’re not?”

“Nope. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life. You know, ‘til death do us part, and all that jazz, but I’m taking a page from your dad and following my soulmate into the afterlife. So, life and death, you’re never getting rid of me.”

“I wouldn’t want to. It took me too fucking long to find you—I’m following you wherever you go.”

“This is giving me Romeo and Juliet vibes.”

“Your family does hate mine…”

It wasn’t so much that your family hated his, they just thought they were better with their money and prestige and couldn’t fathom why you’d want to be with someone who couldn’t afford a life of luxury.

Speaking of them, there’d been hardly any contact in the last couple of months because it finally got through to them that your relationship with Javi was serious, and he wasn’t going anywhere. The last call you had with your mother was a week or so ago, and she asked when you’d be making your annual trip to visit them in December; Begrudgingly, she even invited your boyfriend with the caveat he would have to stay in a guest room, which was beyond absurd. She didn’t take it well when you told her you wouldn’t be coming this year and that you’d mail her Christmas gift.

Moving, you sat up, sliding your hands up his t-shirt-covered chest, softly skating over the sides of his neck to his jaw, tenderly holding it as you leaned in to kiss him; something sweet, gentle. When you broke away, his eyes were closed, his lips turned up, and his cheeks shining in the light of the room.

Using your thumbs, you started wiping at the wetness on his face.

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” you recited. “It is the east, and Javier is the sun.”

Those big brown eyes of his blinked open.

“No, you’re the sun.”

That made your eyebrow arch, your hands stopping.

“I’m the sun? Why am I the sun?”

He was rubbing your hips.

“Because you’re bright and beautiful. Your warmth gives me life and helps me grow. The last reason is obvious.” He crookedly smiled.

Frowning, your brows furrowed, not knowing what he meant.

“Apparently, it’s not because I have no idea.”

Reaching, his big hands held your face.

“My world revolves around you. You’re the center of my universe. No puedo vivir sin ti porque eres todo para mí (I can’t live without you because you’re my everything). Prometo que soy tuyo por siempre (I promise, I am yours forever). Mi corazón, mi cuerpo, mi alma, son tuyos (My heart, my body, my soul, they are all yours). Te amaré hasta mi último suspiro y haste que mi corazón deje de latir y luego esperaré a que me encuentres de nuevo al otro lado (I will love you until I take my last breath and my heart stops beating and then I will wait for you to find me on the other side). Yo soy tuyo, y tú eres mía, por siempre en la vida y la muerte (I am yours, and you are mine forever in life and death).”

Your eyes were burning with unshed tears.

“God, you know how emotional I get when you go all Gomez Addams on me.”

He only knew who that was because you’ve made him watch the recent movies… multiple times.

A smile appeared on his face. “Moriría por ti (I would die for you),” he said. “Mataría por ti (I would kill for you). De cualquier manera, qué alegria (Either way, what bliss).” He winked.

Your eyes had gone round. “Javier, that is illegal.”

He chuckled.

Playfully, you smacked his chest. “I’m serious. Straight to jail. You’re not allowed to quote Gomez when I can’t be horny about it, and right now, we are having a very important discussion.”

“I’m sorry, Cielito,” he replied, pulling you down for a kiss.

When you separated, your faces were close enough your noses were touching, the tip of his nuzzling against yours.

“How do you feel?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Tired,” he sighed.

“Makes sense. Is there anything else I should know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m sorry it all came out like this,” you said. “If I ever see that motherfucker again, I’m punching him in his stupid face for all the shit he’s put you through. I hate him.”

“I punched him.”

That made you pull back, your gaze on his.

“What?”

“I punched him.”

“When?”

“Today.”

Your eyes widened. “Which hand?”

His eyebrows pulled together.

“Right?”

“Let me see it.” He brought it up to you, and you took it in your hands to inspect his knuckles, noticing some redness. “Does it hurt?” you asked.

“Not really.”

“Nothing feels broken?” you inquired, moving and wiggling his fingers.

He snorted. “Mi amor (my love), I know how to punch.”

“People who know how to punch can still fuck up their hands. Do you want me to ice it?”

“No, baby. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

His hand pulled from your grip to cradle your cheek, making you look at him. A soft smile was on his lips. “Cielito, I promise I’m okay.”

“You pinkie promise?”

An exasperated breath left him, holding up his right pinkie. “I pinkie promise.” Hooking yours around his it made you feel better.

“Okay. Why’d you punch him?”

A grumpy expression came over his face. “Because I thought he got you to leave me, and it was about fucking time I did.”

“I’m happy you did. He deserved it.”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Is he pressing charges?”

Javi did assault the guy, even if he had it coming.

“No. I threatened his job, and Joy heard everything.”

The Sheriff’s assistant was lovely and a big supporter of your relationship with your boyfriend. She confided in you she had a trick for making Javi less grumpy at work, and it was asking or talking about you. Apparently, it completely turned his mood around, and he had no idea, which was delightful.

“Well, that’s good. She’d have your back.”

“Yeah, she did.”

His mouth opened, letting out a big yawn, triggering you to yawn, too.

“Wanna take a nap?” you asked through it.

“That’s a great fucking idea.”

Checking your watch, it was half past three, realizing you’d been talking for a couple of hours.

“Let’s go take a quick shower, then get in bed. We can order pizza for dinner.”

“Sounds good. Un beso, por favor (One kiss, please),” he said, grunting as he sat up straighter to get closer to your face.

Smirking, you grabbed his chin in your hand, his heavy-lidded eyes on yours.

“Un beso (One kiss)? No tienes el control para un solo beso (You don’t have the control for only one kiss). No sobrevivirías con uno solo (You wouldn’t survive with only one).”

“Tienes razón (You’re right). Necesito dos besos (I need two kisses).”

“Necesitas dos besos (You need two kisses)? No más (No more)?”

“Hmmm, tuve un mal día y me siento triste (Hmmm, I did have a bad day and I’m feeling sad). Tienes razón, dos no es suficiente (You’re right, two isn’t enough). Mi amor, ¿me besarás hasta que me sienta mejor (My love, will you kiss me until I feel better)?”

“Sí, mi futuro esposo (Yes, my future husband). Te daré tantos besos como necesites (I will give you as many kisses as you need),” you replied, pressing your lips to his and feeling him smiling.

Many kisses and minutes later, the two of you found yourselves freshly showered under the blankets of your shared bed, your bare fronts pressed together and legs intertwined, his arms wrapped around you to hold you close against him.

Your head was beside his on the same pillow, sliding your fingers into his damp hair and toying with it while you lay there.

“I’m sorry about what happened today,” his voice was quiet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, the whole thing was fucking insane, and I can’t believe you’ve literally got enemies who want to destroy your life, but I’m okay. Are there any other archnemesis I should be aware of? Any other CIA dudes?”

“No.”

“FBI?”

“No.”

“Secret Service.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Really?” you harshly whispered.

“No.”

Glaring, you tugged on his hair as you replied, “Asshole. But you’re sure no one else has it out for you besides She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?”

Fucking Lorraine.

He thought it over for a second.

“I think you’ve met them all. The others are either dead or locked up.”

“I guess that’s good.” Exhaustion was catching up to you, your eyelids feeling heavy. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Closing your eyes, you said, “Mmkay, it’s sleepy time. Night, babe.”

“Night, Cielito.” He leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “Thank you for loving all of me,” he whispered.

“No reason to thank me,” you replied, snuggling closer to him. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Loving you is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

It was getting hard to stay awake, feeling so out of it, your thoughts thick and slow like molasses, almost like you were drunk. It didn’t even register that you said out loud the first thing that popped into your head after hearing what he said.

“Mmm,” you mumbled. “Marry me…”

Sleep came for you, pulling you down into a dreamless abyss. Maybe you were dreaming it, thinking you might’ve heard the quietest, yes.

An hour passed.

At some point, you rolled out of Javi’s arms, seeking cooler sheets.

Another hour went by.

Jostling woke you, it taking you a second to reorient yourself with your consciousness, realizing the interruption was your boyfriend beside you thrashing—not violently, it was very mild, his legs and arms moving enough you felt it.

“No,” he softly whined, and your eyes flew open.

It was a nightmare.

He was having a nightmare.

“No, no, no,” he continued. “Please, no.”

Your first instinct was to wake him up and save him from the misery, but that could do more harm than good or possibly elicit a violent reaction. All you could do was let him work through it and hope his sleep shifted to something more peaceful.

Keeping your ears peeled, you listened for if he needed you.

A minute later, he went still, and you let out a relieved breath.

Sunlight crept through the cracks in the blinds behind the blue linen curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow. The only sounds you could hear were the hum of the air conditioner and people walking around in the apartment above yours.

Maybe if you cuddled him, it would make him feel better.

Getting ready to face him, he suddenly shouted Cielito, his body bolting upright while his chest heaved in heavy breaths.

Immediately, you turned toward him; the sheets were pooling at his waist, his eyes wide open, and you reached to touch his arm, Javi jolting when you made contact.

“It’s me, baby,” you reassured. “It’s just me. I’m here.”

He looked at you with tears streaming down his cheeks, a layer of sweat making his skin glisten.

“You’re here,” he breathed.

“I’m here.”

“You’re not there.”

Those three words made your heart break, wondering what terrible things he was dreaming about.

“No, Javi. I’m here at our apartment in Laredo with you. We’re home.”

“We’re home.” He swallowed thickly. “I’m at home with you. Fuck.” His palms pressed to his face.

“What do you need?”

His hands fell, big, round eyes meeting yours, seeing his distress.

“To forget.”

Moving, you sat up. “Okay, we can either go watch a movie in the living room, or I can make you come.”

“Make me feel good. Please.”

“I can do that, baby,” you said, leaning in to kiss him. He cupped your cheeks, deepening it with a press of his tongue between your lips, welcoming the intrusion, and tangling yours with his in the way he liked.

As far as you knew, this was the first nightmare he’d had at home with you, and his desperation for you to make it all go away was palpable—you could feel his need. A large palm lowered to fondle the familiar weight of your breast, moaning when he rolled your pebbled nipple between his fingers. Scooting closer to him, without looking, you uncovered his waist to get your hand where he was starting to harden, wrapping your fingers around his length, languidly stroking him.

The kissing was messy as he rapidly grew in your fist, his palm skating down to the apex of your thighs, gasping when two thick digits slid through your slit—gathering some of the wetness pooling at your opening, he used it to easily glide his fingers over your perky little clit, circling it so sparks of arousal danced in your belly.

This was about him wanting to forget, and you had some ideas on how to achieve that, needing to get him nice and hard before you began.

The need to breathe became too much, and he nipped at your bottom lip, kissing along your jaw to your neck, making you hum in pleasure when he sucked on your pulse point.

His lips trailed up, feeling his hot breath at your ear, his voice a rough, soft rasp, “Let me eat your pussy.”

“I’m making you feel good, baby,” you answered, his cock at full-mast in your hand. He moved to look you in the eyes with a little frown on his face. “I’m gonna make you lose your mind first, and then you can do whatever you want to me.”

The pink of his tongue peeked between his lips, nodding his head once.

“I know you trust me, but are you okay with me tying you up?” you asked.

His eyes darkened, and he nodded his head again.

“Words, Javi,” you said. “I need to hear it.”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Be right back.” You quickly kissed him. “Get comfy in the middle.”

Getting out of bed, you went to his dresser, reaching into his tie box to grab a black patterned tie.

The blankets had been kicked to the end of the mattress, and he stacked some pillows behind his back to prop himself up in the spot you requested, his dick hard and leaking precum in the trail of hair on his lower belly.

“God, you’re pretty,” you said as you got onto the bed, crawling towards him.

He spoke so softly, “Not as pretty as you.” His lips were curled up in a tiny smile as he looked at you, thinking it was sweet he was trying so hard to act normal when he was clearly still messed up from the dream.

“Such a sweetheart. Hands up, baby,” you said, sitting on your knees beside him.

The white metal headboard arched with a second arch in the middle and vertical slats under it, making it easy to slip the tie over the metal after twisting it in a way that left two loops his wrists could fit into.

Doing as you said, his hands came up, and quickly, you had them secured, making sure they weren’t too tight and nodding to yourself when you were satisfied.

“Are you comfortable?” you asked.

His elbows were up, arms tied to the headboard behind his head.

He was looking at you and nodded.

“What’s your safeword?” you asked.

“Rábano (Radish),” he answered immediately, which was good.

“As always, the stoplight system is also in play, or if you tell me to stop, I will. Please tell me if it’s too much.”

“I will.”

Smiling, you replied, “Good boy,” ending it with a wink that made him gulp hard.

It only took a moment to get in position, kneeling between his wide-spread legs.

Now, you loved being Javi’s pillow princess or any position where your only job was taking what he had to give. But the times like this where he handed over the reins and put you totally in control? Oh, it was one of your favorites—definitely, top three. The power you felt at making him feel so good was addictive, greedily wanting every moan, whimper, whine, and groan you could pull from him—it was the best.

Seeing him there in front of you naked, a slight sheen on his skin from sweat, a fresh, darkening hickey over his pulse point from the night before, his hard cock resting against his happy trail in a pool of precum—he was a sight to behold, and he was yours, wanting to do whatever you could to make him feel better.

Moving forward, your hands held up your weight on either side of him as you crawled over his body to kiss him on the lips, all slow and tender, ending it with a nip to his bottom lip.

“I love your lips,” you said, nudging your nose against his. “I love your nose.” Your mouth pressed to his chin in a kiss, speaking into his skin, “I love your chin.” Peppering kisses along his jaw, your words were muffled, “I love your jaw.”

Your trail continued down his neck, feeling him swallow hard, “God, your neck.” Here you stayed, laving him in kisses and sucking marks into the taut golden skin, making him softly whimper.

He asked you to make him feel good, and yes, you could get straight to the point and make him come, but that wasn’t enough—he needed it drawn out and to hear and feel your love for him. Basically, you were going to tease him and worship his body while you did it because the easiest way to turn Javi into a puddle was by giving him physical affection and verbal affirmation, two of the three ways he liked to be loved.

Lowering to his chest, you continued your tour of his torso with your mouth, kissing every bit of skin you could while leaving the occasional mark.

“I love your pecs,” you said before licking at his nipple and getting a groan in return. Sucking on it, had his hands struggling in the restraints and his hips bucking. Switching sides, you went through the same motions while his sounds got louder, hearing how much he was enjoying what you were doing.

“Please,” he gasped.

Letting go of his hard bud, your head lifted. “Please, what?” you asked.

His mouth wasn’t closed all the way, panting, his eyes darkened.

“Touch me,” he raggedly answered.

“Not yet.” Quickly, you pecked him on the lips, and he whined. “You’re doing so good for me,” you praised. “I know you can take more, baby. Now, where was I? Oh, yes.”

Scooting back, you leaned down to kiss all over his stomach, deliberately avoiding his dick.

“I love your tummy,” you murmured against him.

The whine he let out was pitiful and thrilled you, the puddle of precum in the hair below his navel getting bigger.

Your cunt was throbbing in tune with your heartbeat as you moved further back to be at the perfect distance away to bend down and trail a streak of kisses and bites along his inner right thigh, leaving a mark near the joint. “I love your thighs,” you said. His eyes were glazed over and watching your every move while unbidden moans left his lips, your head going to his other thigh to give it the same treatment.

His dick was straining, the tip an angry red, it jerking when your hot breath ghosted over it.

“Cielito, baby, please,” he practically pleaded.

“Are you needy, Javi?” you asked, kissing above his belly button.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, baby, you can have anything you want.”

His cock was like iron encased in velvet and hot to the touch when you took him in hand. Javi hissed, his mouth falling open as you pressed open-mouth kisses up his shaft.

“Now, this?” His attention was on you while you slowly jerked him. “You know how much I love this gorgeous dick.”

When your lips wrapped around the head and you swirled your tongue against all the sensitive spots, his eyes closed, and he groaned.

Coming off of him, you spat in your palm and started stroking him, your hand gliding effortlessly, twisting it on the upstroke, the other fondling his balls, your face going lower to lightly lick at the thin skin of his sack.

His long, low moan went straight to your pussy.

Licking back up his cock, his eyes were on yours as you gathered spit on your tongue and let it drip onto the tip of him before taking him into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks, humming around him. You welcomed the weight of him on your tongue, bobbing your head while sucking him like a lollipop, your hand continuing to work what wouldn’t fit in your mouth—rough sounds were coming from his throat, his eyebrows furrowed, mouth open, and gaze so dark hardly any brown remained.

Taking him further and further into your mouth and tonguing the underside of his shaft, it got until he was nudging the back of your throat, and you didn’t go any further. You were moaning, your head moving up and down, keeping your eyes on his, building up the anticipation for what he knew was coming and the thing that would push him over the edge.

This was something that had taken a lot of practice, and Javi wasn’t a small guy; deepthroating him was actual deepthroating with how big he was—after getting a tiny bit too drunk one night on some tequila his tía Lupe gave you, the topic of how he was the most well-endowed man you’ve ever been with came up, and he was so smug about it, it took very little convincing for him to let you measure his hard very close to eight-inch dick.

Swallowing around him, he slid smoothly into the tight space of your throat, Javi loudly moaning your name, taking him so deep, your nose was pressing into the coarse hairs at the base of his cock, smelling your eucalyptus spearmint stress relief body wash he used in the shower before you got into bed.

Breathing through your nose, tears were leaking out of the corners of your eyes, loving how he felt inside you.

“Te amo (I love you),” his strained voice said. “Te amo más que a nada (I love you more than anything).”

This man and being so loving during sex—he was perfect.

Gulping made his thighs and stomach tense, and a strangled moan left his lips, his dick jerking.

You knew he was getting close, so you did it again, contracting your throat around him, trying to get him there.

“Rábano (Radish)!” he exclaimed, and immediately, you were pulling off of him, ignoring the drool on your chin and your wet cheeks.

It had you worried something was wrong.

Your voice was hoarse when you asked, “Are you okay?”

His eyes were shut, his chest rising and falling hard while he panted.

“Yeah,” he croaked.

“Was it too much?”

“No.”

“Just didn’t want to come?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna cuddle while you calm down?”

“Please,” he answered.

Smiling, you crawled up his body, straddling his hips to sit in his lap, quickly untying his hands, Javi immediately hugging you against him. His skin was sticky with sweat, and you didn’t care, tucking your head under his chin, lying against him.

“How are you feeling, babe?” you quietly asked.

“Good,” he answered, kissing your hair.

“Head still messed up?”

“Mi amor (My love), the only thing on my mind right now is eating your pretty little pussy and then fucking my come deep inside it.”

His words made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

“Well, that’s good the horny has taken over.”

He chuckled, feeling it vibrate in his chest below you, him squeezing you tighter.

“It has. How sore are you from yesterday?”

The day before, you had asked him to fuck you hard enough, you’d feel it today, and you definitely were dealing with a bit of an ache, now that you were thinking about it.

“Not like I need to ice my vagina sore but achy—honestly, I hadn’t even noticed it with all the shit that happened today, but now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m feeling it.”

“I’ll get you off with my mouth and fingers and use lube when I fuck you,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Are you now?”

“Yeah.” There was doubt in his voice when he continued, “Unless you don’t want that…”

“Javier, my future husband and love of my life, we’re fucking—your plan sounds great. A deal’s a deal, my body is yours to do with whatever you want, mi cuerpo es tu cuerpo (my body is your body).”

“Anything…?” He sounded hopeful, and you knew exactly what he meant.

“Nice try, but unfortunately, it’s a no on anal today.” You felt him deflate under you. “I think I can probably make it happen tomorrow.” He perked right back up, a surprised noise leaving you, when suddenly you found yourself on your back, having been rolled with him now on top of you—his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, his hard cock digging into your belly.

His smiling face was hovering over yours, his hair a mess atop his head, sticking up at odd angles.

“I can fuck your ass tomorrow?” he asked, clearly excited.

You snorted, ghosting your fingertips over his bare back to make him shiver. “It’s adorable how every time I agree to anal, you act like it’s the first time I’ve said you can, when in fact, you’ve gotten to do it like four times—“

“Five,” he interrupted, “six if you let me tomorrow. Can I?”

With what he went through today, he deserved a nice treat, and frankly, you quite enjoyed it.

“Yes, Javi. Mi culo es tu culo (my ass is your ass).”

“Sí, así es (Yes, it is).” His lips crashed into yours. “Tu culo es mío (Your ass is mine),” he growled, licking into your mouth and stealing your breath.

His tongue slid against yours in practiced strokes, your fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough that your nails left half-moon imprints, arousal burning brightly in your belly. He had to rock his hips for friction to ease his achingly hard dick, pressing it into the softness of your stomach.

The day’s events were insane, to say the least—nowhere on your daily bingo card did you have ‘Javi’s Villainous Ex-Co-worker Attempting to Break You Up’ or ‘Assisting in a Surgery to Save a Patient's Life,’ the second definitely being more plausible to randomly happen than the first, though.

It killed you how distressed your future husband was over Stechner telling you about some of what he did in Colombia. Did you not tell him enough you’d still love him after learning about that part of his life? Were you not reassuring enough? Did he not believe you? It was shocking to hear all he’d done and gone through, and some of it was incredibly fucked up; Like you told him, it wasn’t your place to judge his past. To you, he had paid for his sins in full, and there was no reason for him to dwell on them any longer. You just hoped after today, it would get through to him that you weren’t going anywhere and loved everything about him. Everything, even his flaws.

His lips broke away from yours to kiss your chin, gasping at his teeth nipping at it. A wet trail of kisses went along your jaw, his breath tickling your ear as he rasped into it, “I love you so fucking much.” Goosebumps erupted all over your skin. “You’re perfect—a goddamn goddess amongst men, and I’m gonna give you the fucking worship you deserve, mi reina (my queen).”

Pulling on his hair, you made him look at you, his eyes hooded, smirking under his perfectly trimmed mustache. “God, I love you, but right now isn’t about me; it’s about you.”

“And this is what I want to do.”

Frowning, you replied, “Fine,” and let go of his hair.

“Thank you.”

And thus, he began a journey of your flesh with the plush of his lips, starting with your face. The kisses were gentle, reverent, interspersing them with whispers of ‘te amo (I love you),’ blazing a trail of fire under your skin as he made his way down your body—your jaw to your neck to your chest and breasts, peppering kisses all over your tummy.

This wasn’t the first time he’d done this, nor would it be the last. Still, the way his mouth caressed each of your imperfections—your insecurities, and told them he loved them had your throat going tight and tears brimming your eyes that he truly cherished every part of you. He didn’t care if your stomach wasn’t flat or if there were stretch marks, scars, or cellulite on your ass and thighs; to him, you were beautiful—all of you was beautiful, and he’d make damn sure you knew it.

Down he went, kissing and speaking his love as he moved lower until he was lying between your legs. Lips pressed to each of your hip bones, his big hands grabbing just behind your knees, lifting one leg for him to kiss a wet streak along your inner thigh, his murmured words hot against your skin. The tickle of his mustache caused you to wiggle a little, your body lit up, and pussy weeping with need for him, wanting him to touch you.

The leg was lowered, his face a hair's breadth away from where you were throbbing, so close you could feel his breath and him inhaling deeply. Humming appreciatively in the back of his throat, you sat up, his eyes meeting yours.

“Now this,” his words were a deep rasp. “You know how much I love this pretty fucking pussy. I’ve never had any better—it owns me.”

“It’s yours, Javi. It’s all yours.”

A crooked smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, it is mine, and my dick is yours.”

“Touch me.”

“Not yet, mi amor (my love),” he replied and placed a chaste kiss on your mons. Your other leg was lifted, and he gave it the same attention as the other, making you fall back onto the bed in a frustrated groan, your cunt feeling so achingly empty.

“Javi,” you whined his name. “Please, eat me out.”

“Are you needy, baby?” he asked, kissing close to your knee.

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ve got you, Cielito.”

Scooting closer, he slipped your legs over his broad shoulders, one comforting hand on your belly, the other hand at the apex of your thighs where he used his thumb and forefinger to open the glossy lips of your sex—the need you had for him grew more intense wanting him to ease the ache in your core.

“So fucking pretty,” he purred, his breath fanning over the wet folds of your pussy.

It made you moan when wet, hot spit dropped onto your clit, feeling the saliva slowly dripping down toward your entrance and being intercepted by the flat of Javi’s tongue sliding up the length of you, sending a jolt through your center.

Sitting up on your elbows, you watched his face between your thighs—eyes closed, hair a mess of chocolate waves. His groans vibrated against your sensitive skin as he lapped at you, licking up every bit of your arousal he could get in hot stripes. Heat was beginning to build in the base of your spine, and when his lips latched around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and he sucked, you moaned his name, writhing under him from the shock of pleasure.

“Oh, god,” you gasped. “It’s so good, Javi. It feels so good.”

His eyes opened, all heavy-lidded, his pupils blown wide with lust while he watched himself make a mess of you, not even a tiny bit ashamed you were mewling.

You were so close when one thick finger slid inside you with hardly any resistance, savoring the slight stretch when he pushed in a second beside it. This man was an expert at making you come and knew your body probably better than you did. His hot mouth focused on your clit, pulling out all the stops by flicking it with his tongue, and sucking, while his digits worked in and out of you before he was crooking them up to slide along—

“Right there!” you moaned, him pressing into the spot that had every nerve in your body lighting up, the knot in your belly tightening. “Fuck, Javi! You’re gonna make me come!”

That just spurred him on, and it was all so much—the adoration evident in his dark eyes, watching as he took you apart; his mouth focusing on your sensitive clit, his fingers relentlessly fucking into you—all of your weight went onto one elbow to hold his hand on your stomach, needing him to ground you, and make sure you didn’t float away as he sent you higher and higher.

He had you moaning incoherently, and it wasn’t long before the coil snapped, and you came with a cry of his name, blinding pleasure exploding out from your core.

“Good girl,” he groaned into your pussy. “My good fucking girl.”

His tongue licked up your release, greedily pressing it inside your drenched hole to drink it from the source. Falling back on the mattress, your chest was heaving, eyes closed, and your boyfriend slowed down to work you through your high.

One last kiss was placed on your swollen clit, before he got out from under your legs and crawled up your body, the tip of his hard cock drooling precum onto your skin as it pressed into you.

The air shifted, and you knew his face was over yours, him staying like that for some seconds.

“Why are you staring at me?” you mumbled.

“Because you’re beautiful,” he answered quietly.

You smiled. “Such a fucking flirt.”

“Just telling the truth.”

“Uh-huh, the truth that’s gonna get you laid.”

“I didn’t say it so I’d get laid.” The frown was evident in his tone, and it made you open one eye to see his mustache, and the bottom half of his face were covered in your juices, and just as you thought, his reddened lips were turned down.

“Oh, babe,” you started, opening both eyes as you reached up to caress his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know I’m terrible at accepting compliments.”

A loud sigh left him, his eyes darting away.

“Yeah, your low self-esteem—”

“Absolutely abysmal self-esteem,” you corrected.

“I know. I just wish you could see how I see you so you knew I mean what I say.”

“I know you’re telling the truth,” you replied. “We don’t lie to each other.”

“We don’t.”

“Then that’s settled. Now let’s get back to the horny because your dick has absolutely got to be aching, my guy.”

His gaze met yours. “Do you wanna come again? I’m not gonna last.”

“One was more than enough. As I said earlier, mi cuerpo es tu cuerpo (my body is your body). Use it however you want to make yourself feel good.”

“Thank you,” he said, his mouth hotly descending to claim yours, using the moan you made at tasting yourself to slip his tongue inside.

It was true you were still sore from the night before, but with him making you orgasm, your cunt was nice and wet, and the muscles were relaxed to make taking him easier.

His hips were grinding into you, the kissing making heat blossom in your belly and sizzle along your spine that could build into another climax if you let it. One moment, his lips were on yours, and the next, they weren’t, him suddenly sitting up with a groan on his knees.

“Need you on your front, mi amor (my love),” he said, tapping your hip. The bed jostled as he moved over you toward the bedside table.

“Damn, doggy two nights in a row?” you asked, flipping onto your stomach. “You really want me sore enough I will have to ice my pussy.”

“Not doggy,” he replied, hearing the drawer slide open and close. “Keep your legs together.”

Closing your legs and keeping them straight, Javi made his way back over, straddling them. Your arms were on either side of your head that was turned to the side, resting comfortably on the mattress. He bent over, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and another at the base of your neck, asking softly, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you answered. “Stick it in.” To end the sentence, you wiggled your ass.

“You’re so fucking impatient,” he chuckled, getting back up on his knees. The sound of the cap popping open told you he was using the lube, the bottle getting tossed onto the bed when he was done.

“One of us has to be.”

A sharp smack landed on your ass, making you gasp, before he shuffled forward, using one hand on the mattress to hold himself up, the other positioning his cock at your entrance.

“I was gonna be gentle…” Was all the warning he gave before burying himself inside you in one smooth thrust.

A strangled gasp left you at the sudden fullness, relishing the burn, your fingers clawing at the sheet under you for something to hold onto. With your legs closed, you were tighter, and Javi felt bigger—stealing your breath bigger, oh-my-god-how-did-he-fit-that-thing-inside-me bigger, I'm-definitely-gonna-have-to-ice-my-pussy bigger.

You had to admit, the stretch was pretty great.

“Jesus Christ,” he gritted through his teeth, his hips bumping into the plush of your ass. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

His large palms were now on your backside, smoothing over your skin.

“You’re so fucking big,” you breathily replied.

He pulled halfway out and slowly pushed back in with a groan, your mouth falling open and feeling thankful for the lube making him move so easily. His hard length was pressing into all of those spots that made your toes curl, feeling every ridge and vein as he slid it halfway out and rocked it back in over and over, your brain erroring out at how good it felt.

“Shit,” he hissed, moving forward on his arms to kiss your back once more. “This is gonna be quick.”

He sped up his pace, his dick moving in and out of you with quick snaps of his hips, pushing in so far there was a possibility he was in your guts, filling you to your limit—it was hard to think; it was hard to breathe, with how full you felt.

A fire had started in your belly, getting hotter and hotter with each deep kiss of his cock to your womb, no longer feeling overwhelmed by the fullness, it now slowly making you lose your mind in ecstasy.

“I love you so fucking much,” he panted. “You’re so fucking perfect and beautiful and amazing. Fuck, you feel so good. Me encanta cómo te sientes, mi amor (I love how you feel, my love). Estás tan apretada y mojada (You’re so tight and wet).” Wet was an understatement; you were sopping, hearing an obscene squelch where you were joined. “Te sientes tan pinche rico (You feel so fucking good). Te amo, mi futura esposa (I love you, my future wife). No puedo esperar para casarme contigo (I can’t wait to marry you).”

He sat up, his hands firmly gripping your waist for leverage, fucking into you harder and faster, grunting with every thrust—your body was alight in pleasure, the angle making him rub against that one spot only he could find and rocketing you toward your own end; your skin was heated, coated in sweat, and you were so fuck drunk a stream of babbling was coming from your mouth in the tune of his name, letting him know how good he was fucking you, and telling him you loved him—a lot of you telling him you loved him, actually.

The room was filled with the rhythmic slap of his hips hitting against your ass, the jumble of words spilling from your lips, and the rougher grunts from Javi’s throat, the air smelling like sex.

The heated pressure inside you was growing rapidly, your body trembling.

“I love you, too,” he grunted. “Am I fucking you good, Cielito? Are you gonna come again? You’re so fucking wet, and I can feel you’re close, baby. You know why I can’t wait to marry you?”

Somehow, in your wrecked state, you could choke out a “Why?”

“Shit, I’m almost there, too.” He swallowed. “‘Cause I love you.” His rhythm was starting to get uneven. “And I’ll finally get to fuck a baby into you.”

A stab of red-hot pleasure hit your gut, your moan sounding punched from your lungs.

“You want that,” he continued. “You want me to get you pregnant.”

That fire in your belly was threatening to combust, so close to your climax that you could practically taste it.

“Yes!” you cried out.

He was going faster, his thick cock slickly sliding in and out of your tight heat; his name was a soft chant from your lips, saying it over and over like a prayer—proof he was a sex god, and you were his devoted devotee willingly giving him your entire being, body, and soul, as an offering.

He worshiped you, and you worshiped him.

“You’ll look so fucking beautiful pregnant with my baby,” his words were breathy. “My beautiful pregnant wife; fuck, come on, Cielito, give me another. I want my wife to come with me. Come on, mi esposa, I’m gonna fill you up—fuck my come so deep, you’ll be pregnant when I put a ring on your finger.”

That’s what got you, falling over the edge with a gasping moan. Euphoria overtook every cell in your body, rippling out from your center, spreading to your fingers and toes, feeling like you kept coming, and coming, and coming.

Javi went with you, pushing in all the way to the hilt, his cock thickening and jerking hard, shattering with a low, dirty groan, feeling the warm, wet pulse as his spend filled you—falling forward on his arms, his hips rolled to fuck it deeper, and he leaned down to softly kiss your shoulder, moving to lightly bite the edge of your ear, hearing the hiss slide through his teeth when the overstimulation hit and he stopped moving.

Wrung out was apt for how you felt. Your limbs were quivering uncontrollably, panting, your mind all hazy from the pleasure, and you felt boneless.

Something about the man you were going to marry was he enjoyed staying inside you after finishing, and he’d mastered the art of getting you both comfortable without pulling out. He rolled you both onto your sides, bringing your back flush to his front and wrapping his arms around you to hug you tightly against him, his nose buried in your hair, while your hand went back behind you to play with his.

It didn’t matter you were both sweaty and, let’s be honest, gross—a shower was absolutely needed—you loved basking in the post-coital bliss with the person you would spend the rest of your life with.

This also happened to be another occasion where time was tricky. It only felt like seconds passed, maybe a minute or two, as you lay there, luxuriating in each other, but a glance at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock on your bedside table told you ten minutes had passed.

“Yes,” you said, breaking the silence.

He nuzzled against your neck, pressing a kiss to it.

“Are you practicing again?”

“No, this yes is my pre-acceptance of your proposal.”

“I’ve been pre-approved to be your husband?” he asked amusedly.

“Um, yes, Javier, you have gone above and beyond to prove you are husband material. You’ve also been pre-approved to be the father of my future children.”

“Cielito?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m guessing you don’t remember,” he sighed.

“Remember what…?”

“I’m already engaged.”

“WHAT?!” you yelled, Javi making a pained sound when you aggressively got out of his arms and off his dick to turn around and sit up in bed, staring at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

The expression on his face could only be described as the realization of, ‘I fucked up.’ His throat bobbed as he gulped in fear at your reaction.

He propped his head up on his arm, meeting your gaze.

“I can explain—“ he tried.

Thoughts were racing through your brain, trying to make sense of this—that was the thing; it made zero sense. Nothing was adding up, not with how intertwined your lives had become and your plans for the future, plus all the shit you’d gone through together to get to this point.

“Oh, you better fucking explain, Javier,” you cut him off, anger making you seethe. “It’s not Lorraine since she’s married. Wait—“ Panic hit you. “Am I the other woman? Do you secretly have a fiancée in Colombia?”

There was no way whoever he was betrothed to was from here—you’d know.

His face scrunched in confusion.

“Other woman?” he asked. “Secret fiancée? What? It’s you. I’m engaged to you!”

Your eyebrows creased, checking your hands for a ring and not seeing one.

“Uh, no, we’re not…” You looked at him. “Our anniversary hasn’t happened yet, and I’m like 99.9% sure you haven’t proposed—I’d remember.”

“You proposed to me…” he said slowly.

That had you taken aback.

“Javi, babe, I am so fucking confused right now. Like, you’re the one—” You pointed at him then yourself. “—who has to propose to me, not in a stereotypical way, but because your last engagement wasn’t your choice, and you wanting to marry me, or anyone for that matter, needs to be your choice. Also, I cannot recall ever proposing to you?”

As you explained your reasoning why he was the one who had to do it, his eyes had gotten rounder, and he smiled softly.

“It was this afternoon before you fell asleep.”

There was still no recollection.

“Was I basically asleep?”

He sheepishly ducked his head. “Yeah…”

Pushing his shoulder, you replied in exasperation, “Oh my god, Javier, that doesn’t count! You know that doesn’t count!”

His smile got bigger, meeting your eyes. “I still said yes.”

“To a woman who was more asleep than awake and wasn’t in the right state of mind to even ask.”

“Yeah? Right now, if you asked again, my answer would be the same.”

Thinking about it briefly, you said, “Still doesn’t count unless there’s a ring, and I never proposed with a ring, so that null and voids it.”

His eyebrow went up. “In order for a proposal to be valid, a ring is required...?”

“Yep. Thems the rules. So, we’re not engaged.”

“Okay. We’re not engaged.”

Smiling, you replied. “Nope. Oh! Another stipulation.”

“Yes?”

“The proposal is only valid if there’s a ring and you’re the one doing the asking.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “You’ll have to get my father’s blessing to marry me.”

His face paled.

“You’ve gotta be fucking joking…” he said.

“Of course, I’m joking! I don’t give a single fuck about his opinion. That was payback for freaking me out.”

“Thank fuck,” he breathed. “Come here.” He beckoned you with the hand, not holding himself up.

Getting closer, you laid down next to him, his arm pulling you closer to him so you were looking up at his face. He was gazing adoringly into your eyes with a smile, his fingers stroking your cheek.

The silence was comfortable, dancing your fingertips along his naked side.

“Thank you for not leaving me,” he finally spoke softly.

“Never even crossed my mind.”

“Thank you for loving me.”

“Always.”

“Thank you for wanting to be my wife.”

“Thank you for wanting to be my husband. Really, it’s an honor. I’ll be the woman who bagged Javier Peña.”

He huffed out a breath. “Yes, you will. Thank you for wanting to have kids with me.”

“Oh, that’s easy. They’re gonna be cute, and you’ll be an amazing dad.”

His eyes were a little shinier.

“I’m happy you think that.”

“I know that—our bovine children are treated like royalty. You’re gonna spoil the fuck out of our biological babies, and they’ll love you a lot.”

“I hope so.”

“They will.”

Lowering his head, he kissed you with so much passion it made your breath catch in your throat, and your heart skip a beat.

“Cielito?” he murmured into your lips.

“Yes, Javi?”

“Can we practice?”

His question made you smile.

“You want to practice making a baby again?” you asked, knowing that wasn’t what he meant.

“Fucking smartass,” he growled, tickling your ribs, making you laugh while you tried to wiggle away.

Your mouths had broken apart. “Okay, okay, I give,” you panted. Immediately, he stopped his tickle assault. “We can practice.”

He gave you a big, dimpled smile, quickly kissing you.

“Spanish or English?” he asked.

“Dealer’s choice.”

His face went serious. “No, when you imagine me asking, is it in Spanish or English?”

“Uh, Spanish?”

“Okay.”

“But it doesn’t matter,” you quickly added. “Just do what feels right.”

“It needs to be perfect. Which is why we’re gonna practice,” he said, winking.

“Uh huh, we’re practicing, and it’s not an excuse for you to ask the question that won’t leave you alone and has made you regret waiting... Nope, you’re not exploiting a convoluted loophole at all...”

“Yeah, practice. Okay.” He cleared his throat, his big hand cradling your face, his chocolate brown eyes gazing lovingly into yours. “Mi Cielito,” he started, “eres el amor de mi vida, mi media naranja y quiero pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (My Cielito, you are the love of my life, my soulmate, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you). Quiero compartir cada instante de mi vida contigo en las buenas tiempos y en las malas porque somos más fuertes juntos y podemos superar cualquier cosa (I want to share my life with you in good times and bad because we are stronger together and we can overcome anything).” There was no way to stop the tears from forming in your eyes, blurring your vision, getting choked up at what he was saying. “Cuando imagino mi futuro, te veo conmigo, en la casa que construimos, rodeado de nuestros hijos y quiero hacer que eso sea una realidad (When I imagine my future, I see you with me, in the house we built, surrounded by our children, and I want to make that a reality).” He had you crying now, unable to keep the wetness at bay, your cheeks hurting from smiling so big. “Quiero hacer realidad mi sueño y convertirme en tu esposo (I want to make my dream come true and become your husband). Mi Cielito, mi amor, mi vida, ¿me hariás el hombre más feliz del mundo, te casarías conmigo (My Cielito, my love, my life, you’d make me the happiest man in the world, will you marry me)?”

Nodding your head, laughing through your tears, you answered, “Sí, sí, un millón de veces sí (Yes, yes, a million times yes)!”

His mouth came crashing down to happily claim yours, both of you smiling as you kissed, your hands ending up in the hair at the back of his head.

“How was it?” he asked between kisses, his palm sliding up and down your belly.

“Perfect.”

“The real thing will be better.”

“Wait, Javi.”

Immediately, his lips were off of yours, and he looked at you in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“I know you’re still figuring out your plan, and I’m going to love whatever it is, but, um, it’ll need to be done someplace, maybe secluded?”

“I know you’d hate the attention, so I’m gonna do something intimate.”

It relieved you to hear that.

“This is why you get your dick sucked so often.” He chuckled, smiling. “You’re perfect. It wasn’t just because of that…”

“Okay… What’s the other reason?”

“Apparently, proposals make me super horny, and I’ll want your dick.”

“Somewhere secluded.” He nodded. “Whatever my wife wants, she gets.”

Smiling, you corrected, “Future wife.”

“Still, my wife.”

He was so stubborn he made your eyes roll.

“And what will you call me when we’re married?”

“My wife, and every. Fucking. Person, in this town and anyone else aware of me will know I am your husband.”

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#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña/reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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waywardxwords · 6 months

Text

The Fix - Part Five

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Warnings: Child abduction, language, gun descriptions

Word Count: ~2.4k

The ride to Beau’s trailer was mostly silent. As he pulled up the dirt drive, you took in your surroundings. This wasn’t really where you expected the Sheriff of the town to live; it was hardly a trailer—it looked more like a tin can, but it was quaint. The mountains behind were illuminated by the moonlight. Even in the darkness, you felt peace.

“You live here?” You asked as he shifted the car into park.

“Yes ma’am,” he sighed as he opened his door and you followed suit. “It’s not much, but then again, I don’t need much.” He smiled. In the glow of the moon, you saw his dimple again.

“It’s quiet out here,” you chimed as you pulled your backpack from the floorboard and closed the car door behind you. You allowed him to lead the way as he walked to the steps that led to the trailer door.

“It is,” he agreed. He pulled open the door and walked in, but held it open for you to assure it wouldn’t hit you on your way through.

“Thanks,” a small smile pulled at your lips.

Beau glanced around the small living area and pulled a hand down over his mouth with a sigh. “Alright, is there anywhere you can think Jackson may have took her?” He asked you as he pulled out a map from a drawer in his living room and opened it up on the table.

“I gave the FBI all the locations earlier,” you said softly as you approached the kitchen table just beside him and glanced over the map.

In your close proximity, your senses were overwhelmed with a woodsy cologne—it was something you had briefly noticed when he had pressed you up against the wall earlier, but your brain had been too distraught and overwhelmed to process.

“There was a garage he used to own, and a storage unit. But I’m guessing they would have checked there, right?” You glanced at him. His face was pensive, deep in thought, as he grazed over the map in front of him.

“One would hope,” he mumbled. You noticed how he chewed gently on his bottom lip, just like you did when you were focused on something. “Anywhere else? A camping spot or hiking trail? Anything that you can think of? Maybe somewhere you’ve been with him before, or some place you know he liked to go?”

You paused for a moment as you wracked your brain. Your eyes trailed over the map as you tried to think back to the days when you knew Jackson–the old Jackson. “There,” you said suddenly. “When I was pregnant with Bailey,” when things were good, you thought to yourself. “We’d camp up off that trail.”

“That’s a good enough lead for me,” Beau stated as he folded the map to keep the trail in view. After, he started to gather items around his trailer—blankets, flashlights, matches. You watched him for a moment.

“Are we…are you taking me there?” You asked blankly. You didn’t expect him to follow through with what you had hoped would be the plan.

He paused his movements for only a moment, before he shook his head with a smile. “I’d love to not take you, but like you said earlier…you don’t seem to follow directions well,” he chuckled. “So I figure I either take you with me, or I go out alone, you venture to find your way by foot. But then you get lost in these mountains—which you don’t wanna do, by the way. Have you seen the coyotes and mountain lions?” He shuddered. “And then I’d be lookin’ for a little girl and her stubborn-as-hell mother.”

A smile tugged at your lips. He was keeping his promise. You had rotated through so many emotions in the last twelve plus hours. You were exhausted and so desperate to find Bailey, your eyes blurred over with tears.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled playfully as he finished packing the duffel bag. You took him by surprise when you threw your arms around his neck. But then you surprised both of you when your lips brushed against his stubbly cheek.

You pulled back and tried to ignore the blush in your cheeks, but it was impossible to ignore how his cheeks mimicked yours. “Thank you,” you breathed.

He cleared his throat. “Don’t thank me yet, darlin’,” he said gruffly. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

You wiped at your eyes to rub the tears away with the back of your hand and nodded. “What can I do to help?”

He hesitated for a moment before he spoke again. “You ever shot a gun before?”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head back and forth. “I mean, when I was little my Dad always tried to get me to go hunting with him,” you tucked a fallen strand of hair behind your ear and looked at your feet. “I don’t like guns, Beau.”

“Listen, I get it. But I’m gonna need you to be able to defend yourself. That FBI agent was right, we don’t know if Jackson was working with anyone or if anybody else is out there lookin’ for Bailey right now,” he explained. “I’m gonna need you to get yourself comfortable real quick.”

He went to a gun cabinet and used a key from his pocket to unlock it. He glanced back at you and then looked at the row of weapons. After some contemplation, he picked up a smaller gun. He made sure to keep it pointed at the ground.

“Beau, I really don’t wanna use that,” your throat felt dry. You had never felt comfortable with any kind of weapon.

“And the goal is that you won’t have to,” he explained. “But I really need you to have something. I can’t send you in there blind and defenseless.”

“We’re wasting time, Bailey could be out there right now by herself…or worse,” you couldn’t let your mind go there.

“I’m about to give you the quickest rundown in history,” he put the gun in his waistband. You caught the way his hip disappeared into a V down into his jeans. You gulped.

He grabbed the duffel bag and pulled it over his shoulder, then grabbed the map and shoved it into his back pocket.

“Grab your backpack,” he instructed before he made his way to the front door. You hurried behind him and down the steps to the truck as he locked up. You threw your backpack into his truck and waited for him. “Alright, let’s go over there quick.” He nodded towards the side of his trailer that was somewhat open land, but then disappeared into a cluster of trees into the mountain side.

You followed, though somewhat hesitantly. He reached into his waistband once more and retrieved the firearm.

“The safety’s on,” he said clearly as he held it out for you to take. You didn’t budge. “Come on, darlin’. I need you to work with me here.” You took a breath and reached out for the gun.

It felt heavier in your hands than you thought it would, the metal sent a chill over your body. You shuddered.

“It’s alright,” Beau eased as he placed his body behind you. You could feel his torso against your back, his mouth just above your ear. “Now, I want you to widen your stance a little bit. You want to be in constant control.” You moved your left foot out a bit. “Good, now hold it with both hands—like this.” He reached around from behind you and put his hands on yours. “I’m gonna turn off the safety,” he said slowly. “Just like this.” Your fingers followed along with his.

“Beau, I don’t know…” your throat was dry, a mixture of the fear of holding a gun paired with the smell of his cologne and the way his body was pressed flush against yours.

“You got this, darlin’,” he encouraged. “Now I want you to try to aim. Really focus on what your target is. There’s a Coke can on the tree stump up there. You see it?”

You nodded as you squinted to try to practice your aim. In the moonlight, you caught the shiny side of the soda can in your gaze.

“Now, when I tell you to, you’re gonna gently squeeze the trigger. It just takes a little push,” his voice was low and his breath warmed your ear. A shiver coursed through your body. “There’s gonna be a little kick back when it fires. It’s not a lot, but it can take you by surprise. I want you to keep your arms outstretched like this, okay?” You nodded again. “Alright, darlin’. When you’re ready—squeeze the trigger.”

You did as he said as his arms stayed against yours to keep you steady. The sound of the discharge made you jump, but between Beau’s body and his hands pressed against yours, you didn’t jump too badly. As you opened your eyes, you saw you had missed your target.

“It’s alright, you did good,” Beau cleared his throat as he stepped away from you. You realized you missed the warmth of his body once he moved away.

“I missed it,” you sighed.

“You closed your eyes, sweetheart,” he chuckled softly. “It’s alright. I really wanted you to feel it more than anything. I wasn’t going to send you guns blazing without actually firing one before.” He popped the safety on and holstered the weapon back in his jeans. “Let’s get a move on.”

“That’s it? But I have no idea what I’m doing,” the nervousness crept through your voice.

“It’s gonna be alright. I can assure you if we’re in real danger, your target’s probably gonna be a hell of a lot closer than that Coke can,” he gave you a reassuring smile and squeezed your shoulder.

The both of you walked to his truck, Beau held your door open for you once again and closed it behind you. You couldn’t help but smile as you hoped you were just a few minutes away from seeing Bailey.

Beau followed the map he had brought with him to get to the trail you had identified. While it was still dark out, the sun was just beginning to lift low in the sky and it sent out a dim orange glow over the mountain.

“This is it,” you breathed as Beau slowed the truck. You didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and you felt your heart begin to sink down in your chest.

“Alright, maybe he set up a camp off the trail, let’s walk around a bit,” it was as if Beau could read your mind. He shifted the truck into park and unbuckled his seat belt. You did the same. As you got out of the truck, you heard his voice again. “We gotta stay quiet, we don’t know if anyone else is here.” He reminded you. You nodded as he reached into the duffel and handed you a flashlight. Next was the weapon. “You remember? Safety’s on. Show me how to turn it off.” He watched your fingers as you fumbled with the gun. When it clicked, you knew you had succeeded. “There ya go.” Beau seemed proud.

You mimicked his earlier action by tucking the gun in the waistband of your jeans and followed behind him as he started to walk.

“Usually we’d set up a tent just down there,” you moved your flashlight to a spot off of the trail, tucked between rows of trees. “Should we split up?”

“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. He walked ahead, the sound of your boots crunching against tree branches and leaves sounded louder than it was.

Just as you came to a clearing, you saw it—a tent. Your heart picked up speed in your chest and you felt the familiar feeling of tears blur your vision.

“Beau…” you breathed.

“Easy now, it might not even be her. We have no idea who’s in that tent,” he whispered back. He pulled his gun out of his waistband and nodded at you to do the same. You put the flashlight in your back pocket and drew the weapon Beau had given you. You couldn’t help the way it trembled as you walked.

Beau approached first. You watched as he processed how to approach. “Excuse me for botherin’ you this early,” he cleared his throat. “I’m lookin’ for a way to get back to the trail, we’ve gotten lost.” He kept his gun low as he approached the front of the tent.

There wasn’t any response, but you heard the fabric of the tent move slightly. Your heart was beating so hard, you felt like you could hear it in your ears.

“Any chance you could direct us?” He asked again.

There was another pause, and you thought you might go into cardiac arrest. But then you heard ever so softly, “…hello?” It was Bailey.

Beau ripped the zipper to the tent down and Bailey screamed. You shined your flashlight into the tent, the light shaking as you trembled.

She was alone. She was okay. “Bailey,” the sob fell from your mouth as you scrambled to get into the tent.

“Mama!” Her cries matched yours as you reached her and clutched her to your chest. You pulled her body as tight as you could against yours and rocked gently back and forth. With your hand against the back of her head, you cried.

“It’s alright, baby. I’ve got you,” you whispered through the tears. “You’re alright.”

You didn’t notice Beau step into the tent, but you felt his hand on your shoulder. Without another thought, your fingers gripped onto his jacket and pulled him towards you. He lost his balance a bit and tumbled down to your level. Tentatively, he brought his arms around both of you and held you tight. You felt his lips graze the top of your head.

“You’re alright,” he repeated your words, but to you. “We got her back.”

And for the first time since the afternoon before, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I really struggled with this chapter for some reason, but I hope you liked it <3. Thank you for all of the likes, shares, comments & reblogs! I appreciate you all.

Also, I know literally nothing about guns--so the descriptions might be a bit off on how to actually use one. I contemplated scrapping this entire chapter and starting over, but I decided to leave it as is. Open to any and all feedback (it is appreciated!).

A preview of the next chapter:

Beau had called the FBI as he drove to the hospital. Everything had checked out—Bailey was unharmed. She was a little dehydrated, but otherwise, she was fine. She was scared and didn’t understand what had happened. You had assured her everything would be okay, but didn’t know how else to explain everything that had happened with her father.

You sat in the back of Beau’s truck, your hands held tight to Bailey as you couldn’t bring yourself to let go.

“Are you sure you aren’t hurt anywhere?” You asked her as your hands danced over her head, her arms. Your eyes moved over every inch of her to look for any injuries.

“No, mama,” she said softly. “But I’m cold…and hungry.”

Beau heard her words and cranked up the heat in the truck. You thanked him softly. He reached for the duffel again and leaned back to say, “There’s a granola bar in there and trail mix. Water, too. Make sure she’s hydrated.”

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gracesmusings4adults · 1 year

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I promise.

Xavier x Reader

Reader: Wednesday’s twin, the twins can share powers because they are connected, and Y/N can control electricity.

“I tried being your friend,” he scoffs. “Look where that got me.”

“This isn't about us, Xavier.”

He lunged forward, chains rattling, he points at me. “No, it’s about you!”

His eyes flicker over to Wednesday. “Every time you both get involved, people get hurt.” He makes eye contact with me. “You’re toxic. All you ever do is make things worse.”

Wednesday takes a step toward the cell, an effort to put some distance between us.

I put my head down and close my eyes. Wednesday watches as I wipe all of my emotions away. She steps away from the cage.

I open up the page revealing the picture of Wednesday and I on the battle field with the pilgrim.

“Tyler warned me that something bad was coming. And I think—“ “No!” Xavier raises his voice. “You’ve already shown me that. I don’t care.”

Y/N gulps. Wednesday feels a wave of grief wash over her. This is her fault. She was the one who pushed her sister to indulge in a friendship with Tyler. She is the one who tried to shove off her sisters need for love and affection onto someone else. She is the one who turned her against Xavier and sent her to the lions den.

“Do you want to stop this? Then leave. Both of you, go far away and never come back.” Wednesday can feel her sisters heart shattering. “Do you understand? That can’t happen if neither of you aren’t here. That’s how you save everyone, okay. So, go.”

“LEAVE!” His chains rattle and for the first time Wednesday sees her sister jump. Tears in her eyes, she closes the paper, and leaves.

Xavier watches her go and then turns to Wednesday. “You too, Add—“ Wednesday steps forward and grabs his shirt. “Never, talk to my sister like that again. You want someone to blame? Someone to hate? You hate me.” Wednesday shoved him back.

Xavier scoffs as she walks away. “She never doubted you. Even when she saw your paintings. She always believed that you weren’t the Hyde.” Wednesday doesn’t look back, but she waits a moment and when all she is met with is silence she leaves.

His body goes limp and he falls to his knees. “Up you go!” Galpin says, keys shaking in his hand. “Time for the transfer.”

Xavier’s eyes seek out any sign of the Addams but he is quickly shoved into the back of the sheriff's police car.

Closing his eyes he remembers all the times that Y/N had shown him kindness. She put on a hard exterior like her sister, but he knew better. He remembered their whispered stories from the first time they met. They were just kids, but even then Y/N knew that she was different, even from her own family of misfits. When they arrived at Nevermore, Xavier knew that she was just as in love with him as he is her. But the Addams twins had perfected their united front. In many ways, Y/N had trained herself to disappear. She now appeared to be a copy of Wednesday.

And she fooled him. She made him believe that she did not care for him. That he was simply a means to an end and then it turned out he was the end—for a while atleast.

“What are we doing?” Xavier asks when the car stops. Sheriff Galpin talks on the phone for a minute and then pulls out his personal phone and looks at his son’s location. “You tracking your little monster?” Xavier scoffs. Tyler was another mistake he made. Xavier should have seen him for what he truly was. He should have warned Y/N. Instead, he allowed her to push him away and befriend a monster.

“You shut it.” Galpin shuts off the car and gets out.

“Hey, wait. Wait! Hey! What about me? What…” Xavier slams his hands onto the wire mesh. “Oh, you asshole!” Xavier kicks the seat and screams in frustration. There is no way to get the chain off and even if he gets out of the car, he is at risk of tripping and hanging himself with the restraints that tie his hands and feet to his neck.

Closing his eyes, the scene from the jail cell play like a movie. He could see the hatred in her eyes that she thought she was hiding. At the time he was telling himself that it was directed at him. But he knew as soon as Wednesday stepped inbetween them that it was a self hatred that was clawing inside her.

Xavier screams once more.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Y/N whispers. She pushes up on her elbow, being careful not to disturb the corpse too much. Xavier nods, but then remembers that his new friend can not see him because they are in a closed casket. “I’m not like the rest of my family.” She sighs. “Sure I am weird and love dancing with seriel killers, but I am diffrent.” Xavier leans over the dead body.

“One summer my parents hired this man-killer nanny and she sent us away to summer camp so she could marry and kill my uncle…” Xavier hangs onto every word. “I have never told a soul, but I loved it. Sure the company was horrendous, but I loved camp. I also love the color pink.” Y/N laughs. She goes through a lists more things that she likes.

“Dont get me wrong, I love my sister. I have killed for my sister—and we have this weird twin thing where we can see the same vision or memories as each other, but I am diffrent.” Xavier stills as her breath washes over him. “I am me.” “I see you.” Xavier says. “You promise?” “I promise,” Xavier grasps her hand and sparks appear. “Hey, Xavier, what if no one finds us?”

Thump, thump. “Yes!” Xavier yells as Thing slides down the back window. “Yes! Yes! Yes, Thing!”

After Thing releases him, Xavier thanks him and takes off running to the school. No one tries to stop him as he grabs the bow and arrows from the archery range and rushes to the courtyard. “Stay away from her!” He shouts. Arrow aimed at the pilgrims heart. He takes in the sight. The courtyard is burning and in the middle stand the Addam’s twins and the pilgrim. “No!” Y/N shouts as he releases the arrow. Wednesday looks at her sister and then jumps infront of Xavier. Both twins fall to the ground.

“We’re fine!” Wednesday shouts, her hands reaching for Y/N. A large black and purple brusie forms on Y/N’s chest where the arrow is impaled in her sister. “Oh my—“ Xavier looks at them both with wide eyes. “Go!” Y/N shouts. “Get them out of here.”

Xavier hesitates and locks eyes with Y/N. “I see you.”

“You promise?” She looks at him with wide eyes. “Yes, I promise. That is the only reason I am going right now.” Xavier squeezes her hand a bolt of electricity shoots up his arm. “Now!” Wednesday shouts. Xavier runs towards the other students. He turns around and watches Y/N pull the arrow out of Wednesday. Both of them stand. Wednesday grabs the sword and Y/N’s hands spark with electricity.

At the gate, Xavier stands with the school as they wait. “Where’s Y/N and Wednesday?” Enid asks, her body shaking. Xavier looks around at his friends and then Enid is pushing through the crowd. Before his thoughts can catch up his feet are running towards Y/N.

Enid falls into their arms. Without thought, Wednesdays pulls away from Enid, her hand entwined with her sisters seperates them as well. Xavier’s eyes rake over Y/N. Her black school uniform is ripped and underneath it is a pink shirt. After a second, both of the twins throw their arms around Enid and bury their heads in her neck.

Looking up, Y/N’s eyes connect with Xavier’s. She pulls away from her sister and Enid. Wednesday hesitantly lets go of her hand. “Xavier—” Y/N goes to explain. Xavier steps forward. “I’m so sorry.” Her eyes gloss over at his words. “I am sorry too. I should have told you that I see you too.”

She reaches out towards him. Her hands stop just before tey touch his face. He leans forward. The buzz of electricity dances along his skin. “I see you, Xavier Thorpe.”

Xavier pulls her into a hug.

Xavier leans on the railing and smiles at Y/N. His cheeks flush a pretty pink when she smiles back and tugs her sisters hand, leading them up the stairs.

“Addams,” Xavier shoved his hands in his coat pockets. Wednesday raises an eyebrow at him. “Hurt her and she will kill you herself.”

Xavier smirks. “Then I’ll raise you from the dead and kill you again,” Wednesday smiles. Xavier’s smirk wavers as he looks into her dead eyes. “Message recieved.”

Y/N steps toward Xavier and their hands intertwine. Wednesday mutters something about the car. “Hey, Wednesday.” Xavier turns his head to look at her. “Thank you.” “Now it’s your turn. But this time, don’t save me. Save my sister.” Wednesday disappears down the stairs.

“Come visit me?” Y/N whispers. Their noses touching. His hands grip her waist. Her new pink sweater a beautiful contrast to her black hair. Xavier tilts his head. There lips centimeters apart. “I promise.”

Y/n smiles and leans back. “Good, because i got something for you if you do…” She smiles and then twirls out of his arms. “Got to go.” “Me too,” He reaches for her one last time. Their hands meet and then she pulls away.

Thinking about doing a series of Oneshots. Y’all interested? Smut to come of course.

Requests are open

Phone calls with Xavier.

#xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x reader smut #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe #wednesday #wednesday!reader #the addams family #addams!reader #tyler galpin x reader #gracesmusings

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theoutcastrogue · 20 days

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Two lawsuits filed by a civil rights group allege that county jails in Michigan banned in-person visits in order to maximize revenue from voice and video calls as part of a "quid pro quo kickback scheme" with prison phone companies.

Civil Rights Corps filed the lawsuits on March 15 against the county governments, two county sheriffs, and two prison phone companies. The suits filed in county courts seek class-action status on behalf of people unable to visit family members detained in the local jails, including children who have been unable to visit their parents. ...

Each year, thousands of people spend months in the county jails, the lawsuit said. Many of the detainees have not been convicted of any crime and are awaiting trial; if they are convicted and receive long sentences, they are transferred to the Michigan Department of Corrections. ...

The Michigan counties are far from alone in implementing visitation bans, Civil Rights Corps said in a lawsuit announcement. "Across the United States, hundreds of jails have eliminated in-person family visits over the last decade," the group said, adding:

Why has this happened? The answer highlights a profound flaw in how decisions too often get made in our legal system: for-profit jail telecom companies realized that they could earn more profit from phone and video calls if jails eliminated free in-person visits for families. So the companies offered sheriffs and county jails across the country a deal: if you eliminate family visits, we'll give you a cut of the increased profits from the larger number of calls. This led to a wave across the country, as local jails sought to supplement their budgets with hundreds of millions of dollars in cash from some of the poorest families in our society.

St. Clair County implemented its family visitation ban in September 2017, "prohibiting people from visiting their family members detained inside the county jail," Civil Rights Corps alleged. This "decision was part of a quid pro quo kickback scheme with Securus Technologies, a for-profit company that contracts with jails to charge the families of incarcerated persons exorbitant rates to communicate with one another through 'services' such as low-quality phone and video calls," the lawsuit said.

Under the contract, "Securus pays the County 50 percent of the $12.99 price tag for every 20-minute video call and 78 percent of the $0.21 per minute cost of every phone call," the lawsuit said. The contract has "a guarantee that Securus would pay the County at least $190,000 each year," the St. Clair County lawsuit said.

#theory #prison

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ratsoh-writes · 4 months

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Hey y’all! Meet our new Underwest characters!! And the au!

To introduce them: Underwest is a Wild West au! These monsters were never trapped behind a barrier, and lived in the deserts and plains of the surface along with humans. Conditions were harsh for every one, but they made do, creating a community of hardy resourceful monsters and humans alike!

Like the name suggests, this au is cowboy themed with a few twists! There are hardly any mammals from this au. The hot desert sun is too much for most furred critters, and certain animals like sheep, wolves and horses never evolved. But other animal species thrived! Namely the reptiles.

In Underwest there are three big domesticated animal groups: herding lizards, raptors and terror birds.

Herding lizards: there are dozens of breeds, but they’re all mostly the same. A six legged desert lizard raised for meat because of its passive nature and the fact that it can eat almost anything and survive off of little water

Raptors: domesticated and wild, not to be confused with the ancient dinosaurs. These are quadruple lizards as large as a horse with long thick legs and the energy to run for hours. They’re carnivorous and domesticated ones are used as herding animals and riding animals

Terror birds: MASSIVE carnivorous birds of prey with wingspans the size of cars. And the bane of every Underwest monster. They snatch up monsters, people and livestock and have crossed over into ebott after the crash as well. They can be tamed however by particularly skilled individuals and can even be taught to take a saddle and fly with riders.

The Underwest monsters don’t have royals as there was never a war between them and the humans in the past. Monsters and humans were divided into traveling family units, chasing water sources and only settling during rainy seasons. They’re believed to be closely related to the farm AUs due to many of the Underwest monsters having earth affinities.

Meet partner and rowdy!!

Partner (Underwest sans)

Partner is a stocky skeleton monster, aged 68 with soft lilac magic. He stands at 5’7 and has a strong thick muscular ecto that he worked hard to achieve. He has a bit of a gap between his front two teeth.

Partner is a very serious monster, he rarely smiles and hearing a laugh from him is like seeing gold fall out of the sky. If duty was a soul trait, he’d have it. He always keeps his promises, even if it kills him. While he can be grumpy and temperamental, he has a soft spot for the gentle and innocent, and is a good protector to any of his loved ones.

Partner works as the sheriff in Goldenvalley, hunting down criminals.as there’s only one police station and it’s a lot of land to cover, he works very hard at his job. On the side he also trains raptors for a bit of extra G.

He’s a very clever fighter which makes up for his rather average magic power. This is reflected in his magic weapon, a whip that when cracked, makes a loud booming noise to frighten. The whip itself doesn’t do much damage

His special ability is that he can see both up and forward. Like he has eyes on the top of his head. When he consciously thinks about it, partner can see the sky even though he may be looking down or forward.

Things he loves: leather goods and clothes, garlic, rustic belt buckles and hat accessories, artisan breads, hunting, telling campfire stories, horror novels, axe throwing, the color blue, clover flowers, country music (go figure)

Rowdy (Underwest papyrus)

Rowdy is a lanky skeleton monster aged 27 with baby blue magic. He has a think but trim ecto and is always covered in scrapes and bruises. He has a bit of a gap between his front two teeth

Rowdy is a cheerful, eager to please and clumsy fellow. He’s been rather sheltered by his mother for most of his life, so some things that may be common sense to most he hasn’t learned yet. He wears his heart on his sleeve and is a delight to be around with how affectionate he is. However he’s very gullible, making partner very protective of him.

Rowdy is partners apprentice, learning the art of training raptors. He’s not partners brother like the others but is actually his younger cousin. Their mothers were sisters. Rowdy only recently left home this last year and a half, so he’s a bit behind in the practical work compared to other monsters his age

Rowdy has very explosive magic which shows in his magical weapon, a boomerang that literally explodes on contact. Unfortunately if it doesn’t hit its target, ot explodes on him when it comes back. He’s working on fixing that

Rowdy’s special ability is double jump! When he’s in the air, he can kick off exactly once to get a second jump!

Things he loves: comedy podcasts and shows, parsnips, the color yellow, fun patterned bandanas, horseback riding, exploring new areas, pop music, line dancing, stew, orange blossoms

Side characters

Belle: the mother of rowdy and the aunt of partner, bell is a skeleton monster aged 400 exactly. Having lost her sister and husband before the crash due to sickness and a bad rain year, she was extremely protective of rowdy. Even after the crash she sheltered him, causing him to run in order to accept the apprenticeship partner offered. Partner and Belle had a huge fight over this and aren’t on speaking terms anymore

Robber: Underwest undyne, and despite the hilarious nickname, shes no criminal but is in fact another sheriff of Goldenvalley, and has a friendly rivalry with partner. She’s still new in her job and goes to him for pointers a lot as well.

Prairie: Underwest alphys, and partners closest friend. She breeds raptors and goes to him to train all of them. She owns a cute plot of land that she raises goats on as her primary source of income. Breeding raptors is a long and tedious job, definitely not something one can easily live off of.

#undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #worldbuilding #Underwest #ratsohart

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tumbleweed-writes · 1 month

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Death and the Lady: Chapter Four

Previous chapter found HERE

This chapter is slightly nsfw. So, 18+ only.

-----

Chapter Four: An Arrangement

Deputy David Hale usually didn’t make Y/N Y/L/N feel any sense of anxiety. To be honest, most of the time she was around him she just felt a little annoyed.

Her past interactions with the Charming police were a mixed bag.

Back when she’d been going through her wild phase with SAMCRO her interactions with the local police usually ended with her in handcuffs. Now that she was back in town and operating as a local funeral director, her interactions with the police tended to involve making arrangements for police escorts for funeral processions.

To be honest her feelings towards Charming’s local P.D. were quite conflicted given her past indiscretions…and her current ones.

She’d always found Deputy Hale to be arrogant and just a little too self righteous for comfort.

David Hale had been in the same grade as both her brother, Jax Teller and Opie Winston when she’d been growing up. All four guys had been five years older than her, so they’d not really interacted outside of the interactions all three men had shared with her older brother.

Of course, that had changed once she’d gotten older and her brother had his accident. After that her interactions with Hale weren’t pleasant and her interactions with Jax and Opie were chaotic.

Before the accident, her elder brother had been childhood friends with Deputy Hale all the way up until middle school when it had become obvious that her brother was finding new friendships with Jax and Opie.

It had become clear that David disapproved of Daniel Y/L/N’s newfound friendships.

Even as a teenager, Hale seemed to carry around the notion that he was superior to the kids of Charming’s white trash biker gang.

Y/N had gotten a certain level of respect from Hale as had her brother as their father was a respected member of the community…well they’d gotten respect before they’d rebelled and proved they were comfortable interacting with the white trash biker gang.

Hale himself came from one of the more affluent families in Charming. Generations of the Hales were politicians, lawyers, and doctors.

David Hale had seemed to believe that his family background meant that he was somehow far better than the new friends Daniel Y/L/N had acquired.

In Y/N’s opinion the Hales were nothing special. Everyone was equal in death after all. She had very little tolerance for people who tried to pretend they were somehow more important than anyone else. She didn’t care for snobbish people especially when she knew they’d wind up on her embalming table right where the same people they’d looked down upon had laid as well.

From what she could remember David Hale had been the All-American boy. He was the kind of guy who knew he wanted to grow up and serve the community. He was a boy scout. He played baseball in the spring and summer and football in the fall for the local high school. He attended church on Sunday and volunteered at the nursing home as a teen.

She guessed she shouldn’t be shocked that even as a man in his thirties David Hale was still just as pious as he’d always been.

If this had been any other scenario she’d almost find it funny to find that Hale had maintained the same short hair cut he’d had since he was a teenager. She’d always thought it made him appear a little boring especially when they’d been teens. Wasn’t being a teen the time where you did stupid crap to your hair after all?

Standing near the Deputy sheriff, a few other members of Charming PD’s finest, and a borrowed modest forensic unit from Lodi near an open grave made her feel less than amused at the moment though.

She’d felt sick to her stomach when she’d received the call early this morning that another grave in Charming’s cemetery had been robbed. This was the second one within such a short time period.

Both graves had previously been occupied by men she had buried and embalmed. She’d been asked to come out by the Deputy and at least give her insight on what had happened.

She hoped and prayed that the look of astonishment on her face, as she arrived at the cemetery, read as someone who was simply horrified by the situation and not at all aware of exactly who was responsible for this.

She gazed down into the empty casket both astounded and relieved to see that the sacks of dry concrete she’d filled the casket with were long gone.

It seemed that whoever had done this had been smart enough to make it appear as though she’d buried a body in the casket and not sacks of concrete.

She knew the concrete had been a risk, but it had been necessary for the funeral. A full casket weighed more than an empty one. She’d just been relieved that she was right that the man’s family had no desire to see what laid within the casket.

The man’s funeral had actually been quite sparse. From her interactions with the family regarding funeral arrangements it had seemed that the man had not had many friends in life and wasn’t the kind of guy that warranted a room full of mourners. She hated to talk ill of the dead, but she’d gotten the impression he’d not been the nicest guy.

She hated to admit it but the information had made her feel less guilty about the fact that she’d technically loaned the guy’s body to the local MC.

She knew of course that the thought was a weak attempt to mentally absolve herself from her guilt.

She’d be lying if she tried to claim she hadn't had a few nightmares about what she’d done. Most of the dreams featured her walking through the cemetery at night following a Son who she was sure might be Filip from what she could see through the pitch black night, only to have hands shoot out from the ground below her dragging her down screaming before she could escape.

She’d woken up in cold sweats hyperventilating more times than she cared to admit over the past month.

Y/N didn’t need to be Sigmund Freud or Carl Jung to figure out the symbolism behind such nightmares. Her brain was taunting her both about her guilt over her actions and her newfound involvement with a group of men she’d thought she’d moved on from.

As she stood over the empty grave she was overcome with the notion that she knew just who was likely responsible for the scene in front of her.

Jax and Chibs had apparently not been lying to her when they’d reassured her that the favor she’d done for the club would not lead back to her.

It was clear they had done this to make it appear as though any discovery of the missing bodies was a result of a simple grave robbery and she was the stunned funeral director who genuinely had no idea how such an awful thing could happen.

She took a deep breath feeling a little anxious as she’d watched the one lone forensic scientist who’d come out to investigate, swab the inside of the casket. She knew well enough that the body had resided in the casket at one point.

The man’s father had wanted one view of him in the casket before he’d insisted that a closed casket funeral was exactly what the family wanted.

Any DNA would lead back to the dead man. Bodies did at times leak despite the best efforts to embalm.

She knew if there were any traces of concrete that might have leaked out of those bags she could play it dumb and blame it on the casket manufacturer.

She highly doubted she’d have to play stupid in some interrogation though.

She tried to keep her face neutral as Hale turned to face her he quick to speak. “What do you make of this?”

She kept her voice even hoping it didn’t betray her with any signs of deception as she spoke. “I have no idea. He was there the last time I saw him.”

“And when was that?” Hale replied, gazing at her clearly studying her in a way that made her feel as though she was under a microscope.

She sighed adjusting the light black wool coat she’d worn over her black dress today. Even if this was just to come out and stare at an open grave she knew she had to look like the town’s funeral director. “When I screwed the casket shut before the funeral service. The family made it clear they didn’t want to see him like that. His father asked that the casket be sealed shut in case someone tried to go against the family’s wishes.”

She wasn’t lying. That had been the order she’d been given from the deceased’s father. Although there hadn’t been many mourners it had been clear that those who did attend were part of a somewhat dysfunctional bunch who didn’t seem to get along.

Hale nodded his head placing his hands on his hips, the action making him look all too self-important in her opinion. “Did anyone else have access to the body other than you?”

She sighed nodding her head back at Skeeter who’d recently gotten back in town the night before and seemed clueless as to what he’d come home to. She’d almost felt bad for the guy when he’d found out he’d have to tag along for this little adventure. “Skeeter was out of town. He’s usually the one who helps me set up the final touches on things prior to funerals. Old Charlie helps out a little too, but he’s getting up there. He’s nearing seventy soon. I highly doubt he’s going to start robbing graves when he’s been around this long.”

She paused thinking of the old man who was her father’s longest associate. Charles Olsen or Old Charlie as he insisted on being called, had developed a limp from arthritis but that didn’t stop him from doing a few of the more labor intensive jobs around the funeral home. He’d been a practical partner to her father in the business at one point, but he insisted his days of embalming were behind him as his body was beginning to feel worn with age. He had a harder time being up on his feet for the amount of time it took to embalm.

Of course that didn’t stop him from wanting to help out in other ways. He’d always been fond of her and she guessed he felt he owed it to her late father to help out any way he could. He’d practically watched Y/N grow up. He'd always been there. He'd been loyal to her father and now he was loyal to her.

She was always willing to treat him well in exchange for his loyalty. Lord knows with the financial struggles she’d had, Old Charlie and Skeeter both could have found better jobs by now with funeral homes that were doing much better.

Her way of appreciating the loyalty tended to be shared bits of casserole she’d made for dinner and the occasional bought lunch or dinner especially if they had to be out late for a body pick up.

She spoke again, shrugging her shoulders hoping she sounded honest. “The only other people who had access to the decedent were the gravediggers hired by the city.”

Hale let out a huff seemingly disappointed that she didn’t provide him with any information that could break the case. He spoke up nodding at the empty casket. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

She sighed, being honest this time around. “A couple of times. It’s not a common occurrence. I saw it once or twice back in New York. Usually it’s old graves that are hit though…usually just edgy teens breaking into a crypt to steal a skull or something.”

She paused, shaking her head. “People are sick.”

“That they are. The deceased was found in Lodi, along with the other occupant of that first grave that was robbed…looks like someone used them to stage a crime scene. Doesn't seem odd to you that it took this long for someone to notice that this grave was disturbed. The cemetery groundskeeper spotted that first disturbed grave pretty quickly.” Hale remarked he once again seemingly studying her.

She frowned, not liking that he was clearly watching her as though he was awaiting some kind of tell that she knew more than she did. She pushed back the thought telling herself that she was being paranoid.

“You don’t say? That’s something new. I can't say it seems odd, in my professional opinion. This is an older section of the cemetery, so less mourners. The deceased's family lives a few cities over, so I imagine they haven't been out to the site since the burial. I'm sure if anyone passed this one by they may have assumed that it was just an empty grave for an upcoming burial. In my experience deputy, most people don't peek into empty graves. So, they wouldn't have spotted the empty casket. Plus, the city only does landscaping in the cemetery every couple of months...Seems reasonable to me to think this could have sat unnoticed this long. I can't believe someone would go to all that trouble just to stage a crime scene. Who’d do such a thing?” She remarked, almost proud of herself for being able to conjure up the shock.

She knew her reaction was genuine of course. It wasn’t as though SAMCRO had let her in on their intentions for the bodies they’d requested from her.

Hale let out a small scoff he fast to reply. “I have my suspicions of who might be the culprits.”

She raised a well manicured brow tilting her head to the side playing dumb. “I'm safe to assume it’s confidential information? Given the obvious investigation and all.”

Hale practically glared straight through her, he fast to respond. “It’s out of my jurisdiction. Lodi P.D. doesn't seem to be interested in what I have to say. As far as they’re concerned this is some sick prank done by some very disturbed individuals. They’re looking into a few suspects of their own…local freaks who’ve been caught loitering around cemeteries in their area.”

She nodded her head trying not to show relief that Lodi’s police weren’t interested in any of Hale’s input. “I hope they find the responsible parties. Things like this are bad for business. I can’t have the bereaved of Charming fearing their loved ones are going to yanked from their final rests. Something like this has the opportunity to sow chaos and paranoia. I’m sure you’d agree.”

Hale sent her a look that could only be described as stern, his lips tight and his eyes narrowed. “Yeah, bad for business.”

He paused, deciding to push a little more. “Speaking of the business. How is that going?”

Y/N pushed a stray bit of hair behind her ear, the bit of hair having managed to work itself loose from the twist she’d put her hair into this morning. “It’s going. It’s been a challenge. My father’s health left a few things around the funeral home in disarray. I think it’s turning around though. Business has been good lately.”

“And how is your brother?” Hale dared to ask watching Y/N straighten out her dress under her coat.

She resisted the urge to glare at him, her brother not entirely a favorite subject of hers to discuss. “He’s fine. He’s started new meds.”

She spoke again, a sigh leaving her. “Is that all you needed, Deputy? I should get back to the funeral home. I have a few phone calls to make regarding this entire mess. The family has already left me a few voicemails I’m sure. I need to do damage control and promise that I will either rebury their loved ones or help them transfer their business to a new funeral home if they desire once the bodies are released back to the families.”

She knew it wasn’t a lie. She was so not looking forward to those phone calls. She was sure she’d be refunding some money so that she didn’t get sued though she had a feeling the families would more likely sue the city given they were in charge of the cemetery and she’d done her part on burying the dead as far as anyone knew.

“Of course, I do have some concerns though.” Hale replied, deciding to push a little harder.

She cleared her throat hoping any annoyance she showed was more over this situation than the practical interrogation she was enduring. “Yes?”

He spoke knowing she’d probably bite his head off for this. “I know before you left town you weren’t exactly on the straightened arrow Y/N. Am I right in assuming you aren’t going to fall back into any old habits?”

She glared at him, her voice tense and sharp. “I don’t feel that this is an appropriate line of questioning, Deputy. My past is exactly that, in the past. I’ve not gotten as much as a speeding ticket for almost ten years now. My behavior as a teen and in the first year of my twenties is not at all reflective of my conduct as a grown woman. I don’t appreciate being treated like a common criminal especially when my biggest sins consist of underage drinking and some mild misdemeanors. I have worked very hard to clean up my act. I highly doubt it’s the local P.D.’s job to go around condemning innocent citizens for past misbehaviors. If that’s the case then you need to go down and arrest George Goldstein for spray painting the water tower when he was sixteen and maybe arrest Judy Mitchell for the pot she was busted with when she was fifteen.”

She cringed a bit knowing she sounded defensive but she couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity.

Though a voice in the back of her head told her he was right to have the audacity. After all, she’d made contact with the very people who’d encouraged her bad behaviors back then.

She had done far worse now than some underage drinking and a few public nuisance charges.

Hale held his hands up in defeat he quick to reply. “I don’t mean any offense Y/N. I promise. I just had to ask. I am happy to have you back in town, especially seeing as you seem to have matured since I last saw you. I’m happy to see you’ve cleaned up your act. Your association with Jax Teller and SAMCRO did always trouble me, given our history.”

She scoffed quick to reply. “We don’t have a history Deputy. You hanging around my brother until you guys were thirteen doesn’t create some weird bond between us.”

She paused, taking a deep breath cooling her temper reminding herself that she couldn’t let him get her all riled up. She had to keep her calm and play the role of a totally innocent funeral director who knew nothing about the local MC or what they’d done with those bodies.

She spoke, clearing her throat. “As I’ve said, I need to be going. I have a busy day ahead of me. If you have any further inquiries about these graves please don’t hesitate to reach out. You can reach me at the business number for the funeral home.”

With that she turned leaving Hale behind her not noticing that the deputy did have the sense to look a little browbeaten by her comments.

She clenched her fists as Skeeter opened the door to the transport van , they usually used for body pickups, for her before he got into the driver's seat. It was obvious he was more than sure his boss was too pissed to be behind the wheel of a van.

Skeeter didn’t speak until they left the cemetery property. “Are you as innocent as you proclaim to be?”

“I could ask you the same thing?” She remarked adjusting her seatbelt around her neck , the seatbelt was always sitting too high on her body and cutting into her skin.

Skeeter let out a huff at the comment he fast to reply. “Touche.”

He spoke again, shaking his head. “Do I need to be concerned?”

“About what?” She asked, staring down at her nails making the mental note to get a manicure tomorrow she could use a refresh though she usually just had her nails trimmed and painted with gel polish.

It was a luxury she allowed herself along with the occasional pedicure.

Skeeter sent her a small stern glance fast to respond. “You know what.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Skeeter let out a huff, his hands gripping down on the steering wheel. “That’s what I used to say when I helped out SAMCRO too.”

She felt her stomach drop guilt flooding her, knowing she’d essentially stolen Skeeter’s side gig right out from under him.

She spoke, keeping her voice even and collected. “Everything is fine.”

She paused, shaking her head a small smile crossing her lips though it was weak. “You don’t need to fret over me. I’m a grown woman. I don’t need some man to come along and handle all my problems."

She let out a small laugh fast to speak again. "You know, If I didn’t know better I’d assume your concern meant you were sweet on me.”

Skeeter let out a scoff at the comment, shaking his head a small smile eventually crossing his features. “You aren’t really my type…You’re a little too…”

“A ball buster, a cold hard bitch…oh, a shrew, a C You Next Tuesday with a stick permanently lodged up her ass, a domineering witch with control issues a mile long who must constantly be PMSing. A spooky bitch.” She remarked, the small smile still on her lips remaining she finding humor in poking at her associate about just what kind of reputation she had among the local male population.

Skeeter rolled his eyes quick to reply. “I value my job too much to give any confirmation.”

She chuckled, giving his arm a small pat the words that left her genuine. “And I value you too much as a friend not to be offended by any confirmation.”

Skeeter shook his head as she removed her hand, his voice once again taking a serious tone. “I don’t like you being involved with SAMCRO.”

“What’s good for the gander is good for the goose.” She replied her voice picking up a mild tone of offense over the implication that he was implying that she shouldn’t do anything he might have done.

“I know, I’m a hypocrite for saying it…just be careful Y/N. You aren’t just my boss…I do care about you. I know just where the Sons can lead you.” Skeeter replied, his voice still holding that serious tone. She couldn’t ignore the hint of dread underneath the tone.

She sighed, shaking her head. “I know, I’m being as careful as I can be. I know SAMCRO well enough. I think we’re both aware of my history.”

Skeeter cringed knowing he’d been around during her wild streak. He’d been apprenticing under her father then.

She spoke as she reached out, turning up the air in the car. “We both have our indiscretions, Skeet. Let’s just leave this conversation at that.”

He sighed nodding his head, his voice still so serious. “I know.”

He spoke again, shaking his head as they turned down the road heading towards main street. “I feel bad for saying it, but it's kind of a relief for me…The cash from those favors for SAMCRO, it was a little too dangerous to have in my hands.”

“How’s it going…you avoiding triggers?” She dared to ask, well aware of the man’s gambling problem.

She was always worried it would interfere with his ability to work, but he managed aside from the occasional favor he did for SAMCRO that she was all too aware of.

“It’s going.” was the only response she received.

He glanced over at her needing to say it again. “Just be careful, okay. I don’t want you getting in over your head. Try to learn from my mistakes.”

“I won’t get in over my head. I’ve got it covered. Like I said, everything is fine.” She insisted, uncertain if she was trying to convince him or just trying to convince herself.

—--------------------------------------------------

The news of the empty graves had spread fast and weeks later it was still buzzing around town.

Y/N as the town’s most prominent funeral director was getting sick of the unprompted questions she was being asked by her fellow residents of Charming.

She tried not to grimace as she accepted the fresh cut of skirt steak from the local meat guy at Charming’s biggest grocery store, which honestly wasn’t that big at all.

The butcher who she was sure was named Oscar spoke looking almost giddy to get to grill her for information. “You find out who robbed those graves yet?”

“No, I’m pretty sure Lodi’s police have it covered.” She replied, trying to keep her voice level and hide any signs of irritation.

He spoke all too eager and ditzy enough to keep the questions coming. “I guess you must see a lotta sick stuff at your job though. I mean you hear the stories.”

“What stories?” She asked, widening her eyes slightly giving a false sense of innocence knowing her best course of action was to play dumb and let him maybe reflect on just how inappropriate this all was.

He shifted in place a bit, his cheeks growing dark enough that they almost matched his thinning red hair. “Uh, you know…you hear stories bout folks who wanna dig up corpses for…uh companionship.”

She cringed her stomach turning at the implication he was making. She spoke a tone of disapproval in her voice “I haven’t heard those stories in my line of work. Any reports of…that happening in the industry are greatly exaggerated.”

With that she tossed the meat into her cart turning to leave she still feeling a little queasy about the entire exchange.

She took a deep breath reminding herself that people had all sorts of wild preconceived notions about people who were attracted to her line of work.

She kept her mind focused on her grocery list.

For once it seemed that she actually had the budget to buy more than top ramen and produce.

The payouts from SAMCRO had helped her put money towards a few debts she’d had hanging over her head both relating to her brother’s health issues and improvements her father tried to make around the funeral home.

Her father had spent more than he’d made at one point trying to upkeep the home and now she was left picking up the tab.

Business had picked up as well. It seemed that even with the wild stories flying around about grave robberies that Charming’s residents were willing to use her services.

She’d had enough funerals lately to put some money in her bank account. There had been a car wreck with two casualties, a widow who’d died of a stroke, and most recently some teen had drowned out at a lake up near the Chigger Woods.

She felt bad knowing that people’s losses were her payouts. She knew though that this was the reality of her line of work.

When business was good, that most likely meant someone else was suffering.

She wasn't rolling in money, but she felt like she was close to breaking even. She felt comfortable enough to buy some decent groceries and she felt like she could kind of breathe. She knew she wasn't entirely financially stable, if any surprise expenses came up she might be in trouble. She wasn't fretting over money as much as she'd been though before she'd accepted the Son's payout.

SAMCRO had not come knocking for any more favors. It was something that gave her relief but troubled her.

She wasn’t exactly kicking down her door wanting to see Jax Teller or Tig Trager again, but the absence of SAMCRO after the favor she’d done for them made her feel uneasy.

No one had even shown up to address the obvious grave robberies when both she and they knew just who had done it.

She couldn’t help but to feel a little bitter knowing SAMCRO had disappeared without a trace and had left her to deal with the fallout.

She should have known better by now.

Y/N also had to admit she was missing the presence of a certain Scotsman.

It was a strange realization to have. She barely knew the man aside from the surprisingly pleasant conversation they’d had in the cemetery that night almost a full month before.

As hard as she tried to deny it, she had to admit Filip spiked her curiosity.

She found him contradicting in a way.

He looked rough. She’d be blind to deny it. The scars, the general unkemptness, the intense and clearly dangerous energy surrounding him…it was all parts of him that should send her running in the opposite direction.

He’d seemed so concerned about her that night at the crematorium and the cemetery though. She had a feeling it had something more to do than any worry about her wandering the cemetery after dark. She’d picked up on the implication that he almost seemed to care about how she was coping with everything that had been asked of her. She could remember the little looks he’d sent her throughout the night especially when his brothers said something uncouth. He’d been so quick to make a show of smacking Juice for being so insensitive during the cremation. It almost seemed as though the Scot cared what she thought of him.

Her brain kept flashing back to that conversation they’d had as she was digging a hole for those cremains. It was small talk honestly, but she’d never had small talk with someone about the beauty of the stars.

In a strange way it almost felt like he was trying to connect with her.

She felt absurd for the thought.

A voice in the back of her head told her all men were the same; especially men in the MC.

They classified women into two groups: girls they wanted to fuck and girls who they didn’t want to fuck.

A bitter voice told her that any attention the Scottish Son had given her was more likely him hoping to charm his way into her pants and that she shouldn’t read too deeply into it.

Another little voice piped up that him getting into her pants wasn’t such a horrible thing was it?

She’d been frankly going through a dry spell for a few years now. Her bedroom was quite frigid. Usually she had to seek out a bit of self release for her frustrations.

She had a hard time dating. Most men ran screaming when they realized what she did for a living. Her dating life consisted of men who worked in her industry. Her longest relationship had been with a fellow student during her time at mortuary school. She’d found that her partners disappointed her though. If they didn’t run screaming they just seemed like they didn’t click with her.

The Scotsman didn’t seem to be running…though he’d not contacted her since that night in the cemetery.

Even with the radio silence lately she could remember he’d been quite flirty with her. It had felt different from Jax’s methods of flirtation.

There was something kind of charming about the Scot. His little flirtations had seemed genuine and not just a means to get something out of her. It was so unlike the way the flirtation had always felt with Jax.

She would be a liar if she tried to pretend that the phone conversation the Scotsman and she had about the Son’s use of the cremator that night didn’t send a thrill through her.

It was alarming that the sound of his voice alone and a little pet name like love could pull that reaction from her. She’d tried to deny it but she did feel a certain heat spread through her under his gaze. She was almost certain her clit would throb like a broken tooth just from his gaze and voice alone, and she didn’t want to even think about those dimples or the intensity behind his eyes.

She’d maybe noticed he had nice hands too; sort of elegant as strange as that sounded. He had long fingers and she had to admire the golden biker rings lining them. She had noticed and appreciated the fact this nails were neatly trimmed. In her opinion most guys neglected their nails. There was nothing grosser than dirty fingernails on a guy who expected to shove those fingers in more delicate areas.

The Scotsman’s hands seemed strong and as though they understood a hard day's work. She had to imagine the roughness of his hands might feel incredible against her soft skin.

She found herself distinctly remembering a roommate she’d had for a short while when she’d first moved to New York. The girl had praised the wonders of older men in the bedroom.

She’d remarked that Y/N’s disappointment in the bedroom stemmed from the fact that she was relying on boys to do something a man could do a hell of a lot better.

Y/N had hated to admit it but the comment did seem likely. She’d lost track of the times she’d laid in bed after a sexual encounter and found she’d not reached her end, but her partner had definitely got there all too quickly. It was made worse by the fact that she’d had to fake it so as not to bruise the poor guy’s egos.

She’d not had many partners back in New York, but the few she’d had had been a let down.

A voice claimed that the Scottish Son would not let her down in bed. Filip seemed old enough to have figured out how to please a woman by now.

She groaned, tossing a jar of peanut butter into her cart as she neared the check out lane. She did not need to be going down this road.

She once again mentally scolded herself that Filip was not getting anywhere near her bed nor any other surface for that matter.

She’d outgrown the desire to spread her legs for bad boys on Harleys.

She ignored that obnoxious voice that piped up that Filip was no boy.

Y/N began to drop her items on the conveyor belt at the check out probably a little too harshly but she was tired and annoyed both from questions from seemingly everyone about grave robberies and her own mental dilemma about her feelings towards a certain Scottish Son.

She felt her stomach turn as she heard a voice behind her. “Y/N?”

She turned trying to seem as though she wasn’t ready to have a nervous breakdown as her gaze met the gaze of Dr. Tara Knowles.

She spoke her voice tight hoping the good doctor would read her expression as general sleepiness from errands. “Tara.”

“How are you?” the woman replied clearly happy to catch up.

Y/N cleared her throat placing a bag of spinach on the belt. “I’m well, just busy lately, tired, and you?”

“Same. Though I can’t imagine how stressed you probably are. I don’t blame you for being tired. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask about the graves…I imagine you’ve been asked enough.” Tara replied the comment soothing Y/N slightly.

She shifted in place as she watched the cashier scan her items, the older woman moving at a snail's pace.

Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if Tara knew about her history with Jax Teller. Tara had been long gone and had left Charming by the time Y/N had begun hanging around SAMCRO.

Y/N was all too aware of the hole Tara had left behind in Jax Teller though.

Y/N had easily realized she had at times operated as a place for Jax to fill that void if only for a short moment. It had become clear from the very few encounters he’d had with her that she wasn’t the woman he wanted underneath him.

Y/N had been upset about it at the time not because she had held any romantic notions for the Prince of SAMCRO, but because she’d allowed herself to be used in that way.

It was one of the many reasons Y/N had pulled from that world.

She almost found it strangely amusing that two women who had both run away from SAMCRO were standing side by side. Two women who were similar in more ways than they realized.

Tara spoke, nodding her head. “I’m sorry to hear about your father. It seems like you’ve got the home running though?”

“I have…I’m sorry about your father as well.” Y/N remarked, still having to admit she wasn’t entirely accustomed to the showings of sympathy when it came to her late father.

The funeral had felt surreal and she’d barely registered the words of the mourners who’d shown their respects.

A small part of her had to wonder if Tara had felt the same about her own father. She almost wanted to ask, but the question felt far too sensitive for old acquaintances.

Tara had been around back then of course, hanging out with Y/N’s brother and Jax and Opie.

Y/N had been younger though, not entirely prone to tagging along with the older kids.

Tara cleared her throat as she responded Y/N placing the divider down between their groceries. “Thank you. It’s strange being back here…it’s like some things are exactly how I left them. I’m sure you know the feeling. I mean, you’re back as well.”

“I am…it does feel like some things about this place exist in a vacuum…things outside change but everything within remains.” Y/N replied having to admit she felt the same in more ways than Tara realized.

Tara cleared her throat again as she spoke, placing her own groceries down on the belt. “I don’t suppose you heard about Jax?”

She raised an eyebrow, paranoia running through her. Why was Tara asking her about the Sons?

Tara spoke again, shaking her head. “I mean, I know you probably haven’t seen him in years…I know Danny was close to us all…before the accident.”

Y/N glared down at the pears as they passed by her on the conveyor belt, the mention of her brother and who he’d been before the accident making her feel terrible. “I know.”

Tara spoke again, smart enough to realize she’d struck a nerve. She seemed eager to get on with it and make sure Y/N knew this wasn’t some way to bring up her brother and make her feel awful. “Uh, Jax is a dad now.”

Y/N widened her eyes at the news, it hitting her like a brick to the head. She never would have suspected. She sighed, shaking her head. “Didn’t even know he got anyone pregnant.”

“His ex wife…she’s in bad shape. It’s not my place to share it, but the baby…Abel, he’s premature. I’ve been taking care of him up at Saint Thomas.” Tara shared she resisted the urge to go into too much detail.

Tara certainly wasn’t going to explain Wendy’s medical history nor the antagonism from Gemma Teller Morrow.

Y/N furrowed her brow at the information. It seemed that things in Charming hadn’t stayed as in a vacuum as Tara and she had been discussing.

She felt a chill run down her spine at the mention of Abel Teller. Her line of work meant she’d taken care of a few premature infants who didn’t make it.

It was a depressing reality about her profession; children died.

She had proven to be quite proficient in dealing with infant and child mortalities. It was something the funeral director she’d apprenticeshiped under in New York had praised her for.

Y/N was capable of providing a nurturing environment to mourn for parents and keeping her wits about her enough to get the job done.

Everyone had a talent. Y/N kind of hated that one of her talents consisted of comforting and tending to bereaved parents and their dead kids.

She spoke hoping and praying that she wouldn’t be attending to Abel Teller. “How is he?...the baby?”

“It was hit and miss at first. Only time will tell.” Tara replied she biting her tongue, resisting to spill her heart to Y/N about everything she was feeling.

She had a feeling it was mostly due to the fact that Y/N was also returning to her hometown after the death of a parent.

Tara had a feeling that Y/N might be able to relate on that issue, even if Y/N’s issue didn’t exactly also include SAMCRO and a history with it.

Y/N cleared her throat as her final item was scanned and it was time to pay. “I hope for his sake that time will do him well. I hope my services won’t be needed.”

Tara felt a chill run down her spine at the comment. She was suddenly reminded that Y/N, as sweet as she looked, could be intense. She guessed it made sense though. Y/N was casual about death as Tara was about surgical procedures.

Y/N sighed as she began to roll her cart away from the register. “I’ll see you around Tara.”

Y/N didn’t wait for a reply, her mind feeling thick and exhaustion peaking up in the deepest parts of her soul.

She just wanted to go home and take a long bath, maybe have some wine.

Little did she know though fate had a different plan.

============================

The Acura started sputtering not long after she left the grocery store. She groaned knowing that this wasn’t an entirely new development.

Given her debts, she had maybe put off car maintenance. She knew it was foolish. She saw the deadly results of poorly maintained vehicles thanks to her job.

It was easier to preach automotive safety when you weren’t broke though.

She grimaced as the car drug it was obvious it wouldn’t make the trip home, and even if it did it wouldn’t make any other trips.

She sighed knowing there was only one automotive shop close enough for her car to make it.

She cringed as she pulled the sputtering vehicle into the lot of TM Auto. She tried to ignore the fact that the automotive lot was located on the same lot as the Sons clubhouse.

It was a place she’d spent far too much time engaging in debauchery almost a decade before. She was too close for comfort to a piece of her past.

Chibs Telford noticed the familiar Acura drag its way into the lot. He moved a little too quickly to approach it.

He felt a giddy sense of excitement hit him at the realization that he’d be seeing Charming’s local funeral director quite soon.

He’d not forgotten his silent pledge to solve the puzzle that was Y/N. It was just that shit with the club had gotten so hectic that he’d not had the time to properly devote to his goals.

He’d debated using the number he’d saved in his flip phone to give her a call, but he’d feared how that interaction would go. Besides what would he say?

He’d been debating his next move while trying to keep his mind focused on the rebuild of the warehouse, issues with the supply of guns from the IRA, and other numerous issues that had landed on SAMCRO’s feet.

He’d be lying if he tried to pretend that she hadn’t been on the back of his mind constantly for almost a month now. He’d even maybe picked up the habit of reading the obituaries in the local paper that was always delivered to TM Auto trying to pretend that he wasn’t searching for the name of her business.

He felt like a man obsessed and knew this action was a sign of his infatuation. He didn’t want to get shit from his brothers about the fact that he’d taken such a liking to their new funeral home connection.

It seemed that fate was throwing him a bone by placing the very woman he’d been thinking about right on his path.

He approached her car, opening the driver's side door, he hoping he sounded as charming as he was attempting to. “Lass, long time no see.”

She peered at him through a pair of oversized sun shades almost tempted to point out that he and his brothers had left her high and dry to deal with their little grave robbing antics.

She held it in though reminding herself she needed these idiots to fix her clearly dying car. “I’m having car trouble.”

She tried not to eye the name embroidered into the work shirt he was wearing: Chibs. So, she guessed not everyone called him Filip.

“Aye, when’s the las’ time ya took it in?” He asked not shying away from jumping into assisting her.

She shrugged her shoulders making a small joke, finding it easier to use humor to deflect how unhappy she was to be back in her old stomping grounds. “You’re supposed to maintain it? I’ve just been putting a post it over the pretty lights on my dash. I find them distracting.”

He rolled his eyes not showing that he found the snark kind of endearing. “I’m guessin’ it’s been a while then.”

She shrugged a sigh leaving her. “The oil has been leaking, but I’ve not had the time to do anything about it.”

She left out the last part of her statement or the funds.

“Aye could be yer head gasket that’s causin’ the oil leaks. The sputterin could be anything from the exhaust system to the spark plugs.” Chibs replied not missing the grimace on her features.

She ran a hand through her hair, a sigh leaving her. All she heard was bills bills bills, more debt to throw into the pot.

He spoke nodding his head. “It’s nothin’ I can’t fix though…might be costly and take some time.”

She cringed, rolling her eyes speaking more to herself than to him. “Great another bill…At least I have the old hearse to get around town. It’s retired from using in the business but my father couldn’t part from it. I guess his packrat tendencies for funeral equipment saved me at least transportation wise.”

“Aye, good thing we gave ya that payout though…should help with the bill.” Chibs remarked not missing the comment about the hearse or her father’s habit of hoarding funeral equipment the information both fascinating and a little worrisome.

She let out a scoff, turning her gaze towards him for only a moment before she stared down at her nails. “I had to invest every last penny of those lovely payouts in my debts. I can probably manage a bill from my legit earnings from work, but if it gets too expensive I might be fucked.”

She sighed not liking the slight hint of pity in his gaze. She spoke once again partially talking to herself working her anxieties out outloud. “I may have to let the stupid car go. I mean people around town already treat me like a pariah…in the most polite, condescending way possible…I may as well just drive a damn hearse in my day to day life. I might as well become a walking talking stereotype of a mortician. Who knows how long the old hearse will last though. I might wind up back here with another ruined car.”

Chibs spoke the words leaving him before he had a chance to stop them. “As far as payment goes…I’m sure we could figure out an arrangement fer a lower bill.”

She frowned another scoff leaving her as she spoke her voice low though she knew the few people within their earshot weren’t paying them any mind. “I’m assuming by arrangement, you mean the next favor I do is on the house.”

Chibs cringed admitting the idea had crossed his mind. He was sure Clay would be delighted to have Y/N owing a favor on the house. Clay would be proud if Chibs came up with a way to get a favor from SAMCRO’s newest asset in exchange for car repairs.

Chibs hated the concept though, it seemed kind of like a dick move. Chibs was no stranger to dick moves, but he wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of using Y/N’s car as a way to coax her into doing another favor for free.

He spoke, pulling a cigarette from the pocket of his work shirt, a sudden idea entering his mind. He had to hope she wouldn’t slap him for presenting it. “Ya could have a date with me. Tha’ coul’ be the arrangement.”

She glared up at him, interpreting the offer completely the wrong way. Her voice rose as she began to chastise him. “I don’t know what Jackson or any of your buddies told you about me, but I am not a club whore, buddy. I am not the kind of girl who spreads her legs in the clubhouse dorm. Fuck you, if you even think I’m sleeping with you in exchange for car work. You can shove that arrangement right up your Scottish ass.”

He stepped back having to admit he was equally mortified, amused, and even a little turned on by her reaction.

He held his hands up in defeat as he cleared up his statement. “I don’ mean a date like that lass. I mean…I wouldn’t turn ya down fer the offer ta sleep with me…I aint askin fer ya in my bed in exchange for autowork though. I may be a prick, but I ain’ that big of a prick.”

He paused, relieved to see that her claws seemed to be retracting. He spoke nodding over at the car. “I’m jus askin fer a chance to take a pretty lass out fer dinner and me fixin her car is jus a bonus.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Doesn’t make me feel any less like I’m prostituting myself for car repairs.”

He spoke, shaking his head, his hand daring to reach out and caress her arm relieved that she didn’t yank from his touch. “Ya ain’ if it makes ya feel better ya can pay a reduced bill, if it bein' free makes ya feel like shite then I’ll take payment as well as a date.”

She sighed, tempted to once again tell him to shove it up his Scottish ass though a voice in the back of her head perked up that it was a nice backside.

She ignored the warning bells and harsh voice in the back of her mind telling her this was a bad idea. She ignored the voice that told her a date with Chibs would mean she was right back to being the club hangaround.

She stared up at him trying to read if he was absolutely full of shit or not. She had a feeling he was, but not in this instance at least.

What could one date hurt?

“Fine, it's a date. You call me with the plans. You can reach me at my business number.”

He smirked quick to speak. “I already got yer personal cell number love, ya do member our talk awhile back.”

She rolled her eyes wanting to snap that of course she remembered. She was tempted to scold him for saving her number behind her back. She wanted to scold him for a lot of things, some things that weren’t technically even his fault.

She resisted the urge, resigning herself to her fate. The sooner she agreed to this hairbrained date idea the sooner she could go home and take that bath she wanted. “Okay, now can I get someone to give me a ride home…preferably someone with a car…I have groceries in the back of mine that are spoiling as I stand here listening to your nonsense.”

He smirked having to like that she once again had to find a way to give him grief. He found it less annoying and more delightful. It had been a long time since a woman had given him so much crap and he’d genuinely found it appealing.

“Aye, Gemma’ll give ya a ride. Jus’ head into the office let er know yer here with a wrecked car and ya need a ride.” He replied, a joyful feeling settling over him. He had a date with Charming’s resident funeral director.

She cringed at the order not looking forward to coming face to face with the Queen of SAMCRO.

She grabbed her purse from her car refusing to glance back at Chibs even as he spoke that flirty tone clear in his voice. “I’ll call ya tonigh’ with those dinner plans lass.”

She let out a huff wondering how she got herself into these messes lately. Why did SAMCRO insist on making her life more complicated than it needed to be?

#chibs telford #sons of anarchy #chibs sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa #chibs #Chibs Telford x reader #chibs telfordxreader

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atallephoculary · 26 days

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—- G o s p e l —

[ @extristitiavenit ]

Hope County was truly a beautiful place; the cascading mountains and rolling hills of fertile farmland seemed to stretch for miles and miles, disappearing into lines of thick spring pines that dotted the horizon. It seemed like it was such an idyllic place; Marion often found herself reminiscing about her childhood home in Baton Rouge, Louisiana whilst on her lunch breaks due to the overwhelming amount of very beautiful but very foreign scenery… A swampy transplant into an arid tundra, a fish out of water. Being sent all over the country was hard enough as it was, but never being able to stay in one place long enough to grow some roots was harder. It was always something- a new job, a boyfriend, loss of income— something- something- something… Deputy Fuller had hoped that a change of scenery into the God fearing farmlands would strike down whatever wandering roots that would grab soil. Maybe this could actually be the place she settled down and called it good. Maybe it was the place where she would live and die quietly after she finished with whatever dumb prospect this job was.

The station was quiet, though as usual there was a gentle chatter over the radio between squad cars and her co-workers idle conversations flowing through the air in a gentle hum while the air conditioning unit whirs quietly overhead. As nice as it was to have such down time, it did put a slight alarm through her. Could it be quiet here for longer than a day? Probably not- there was always something happening over the radio, with those Peggies meandering around the valley and mountains- the ‘Eden’s Gate’ project, or whatever.. She really didn’t care. It didn’t affect her life, (well- it did- it did so much she ended up in Hope County, Montana to fill in a position that was, in fact, permanently vacant); and the ways it did affect her were easily written off with a nice blunt and a cold drink at her small cabin after work. Quitting time was always on her mind- her hazy green hues darting over to the white bubble clock that hung over the dirty front door. 5:15 p.m.- another 15 minutes until she could clock out and head home… Outside, a caravan of white vehicles with that stupid cross painted on the sides of them head down the main thoroughfare- honking and blasting their music loud enough to be heard all the way inside the station offices- “Keep your rifle by our side!” The tune hangs high in the air like a flag, and soon the cacophony of tires and engines and guitars fade into the distance until there was nothing left but the gentle clicking of the clock and the hum of the air conditioner. Marion rolled her eyes, stretched her arms up above her head and let off a loud yawn; hands unceremoniously rubbing her face and pushing back her mess of black curly hair. What a boring day. Nothing but paperwork and emails, two phone calls from the F.A.N.G center and one from the Chief to keep an eye out for a package that may or may not show up. Again. What a thrilling job; (Junior) Deputy Sheriff and she may as well have been a fucking secretary.

Another shift, another day completed; clocking out with an actual time punch was always one of the best parts of the job, one of those ‘little things’ her therapist back in Los Angeles told her when she was in her early years of being on the force.. What a lifetime ago, freshly 18 and just wanting to do the right thing— a road to hell paved with the best of intentions.. The old machine reams the paper with a clunk and Marion is out the door with her bag and glasses in hand, headed out to the old Ford truck in the parking lot.. The sun was setting by now, the sky being painted in brilliant chunks of reds and oranges and pinks.. A nice view for the drive home too, tires whirring down the evenly paved road down into Holland Valley. Farm land, for miles and miles. At least, she thought, it didn’t stink like some parts of the country she had stayed in.. These people out here took good care of their livestock and it showed. When the engine of the trucks begun to rattle and almost scream with uncertainty, it made her flicker back to reality and ease off the road and onto the shoulder; smoke flooding from the hood of the car as the lever under her seat was pressed with trepidation and concern for how she was now going to get home.

Standing over the fried engine, lit cigarette between her lips and flashlight in her southpaw, she felt like a real tool standing out there in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, nothing but trees and fields and cars that scooted by almost hurriedly as the night settled into the valley. Marion didn’t blame them- things tended to get sketchy at best when night came.

“Aaaah fuckin’… Ya’ piece of shit, perfect fuckin’ timing to die out on me huh. You juss’ loooooove causing me issues.” The bayou woman scoffed and slammed the hood down after settling on a diagnosis: Fried radiator and snapped belt, transmission broken. Absolute destruction. Leaning now with her back to the warmed metal of the hood, she idly flicks through her phone— no signal— no reach. There was nothing out here, and she wasn’t exactly able to take a radio from the station. That was priorly a write up. So with a scoff and a groan and a few more expletives, Marion cleared the cab of her belongings and shoved them unceremoniously into her leather backpack, turned off the lights and slammed the truck door closed with a thud. There was nothing now but the eerie silence and the air current moving through the trees- if she didn’t like the dark at home, she surely hated it when outside. There was a certain fear that comes with walking alone at night, but hopefully, hopefully, the 13 mile walk in almost pitch darkness wouldn’t be that bad.

#| Gospel of Baptism — John }#And we should. — Starters }#| @extristitiavenit }#(( || And awaaaaaayy we go! ))

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seat-safety-switch · 11 months

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So I was holding onto the side of this Oreal Cylinder, I dunno what the deal is with shampoo in space, and getting ready to rip the copper wiring out of the access panel. Friends, Romans, citizens: this shit is fibre fucking optics. Light pipes. Micro plastics. As in, non-metallic. I can’t sell that to Unfair Ted, the operator of the local metal scrap yard back on Ontario-9. Grumpy, I helped myself into their bicycle lockup, and took what I could instead.

Oh, I hear you. I hear what you're yelling, although I don't actually hear it because we're in space, but I do notice that you seem to be getting pretty aggravated and covering the inside of your suit's visor with angry spittle. You should probably take better care of the equipment, those humidifier filters aren't cheap.

"There's no bicycles in space, they don't make sense." Yeah, okay. I was speaking in code. You don't want to be too explicit or the Star Sheriffs will come after you, trying to slap a pair of gravcuffs on your ass. "Hur dur I just stole a bunch of small-charge individual propulsion units from this space station," is that what you want me to write here? That's how folks get caught.

Do you know how much thrust it takes to accelerate a human being from zero to not-zero? In the vacuum of space, not a whole fucking lot. That's why I only took nine. Bicycles, that is. And of course, I missed my turnoff and started floating back towards the planet's gravity well. These things happen sometimes.

Normally, I would burn my ass up falling through atmosphere, but I just so happened to have an ace up my sleeve: the several hundred kilograms of, uh, not titanium plascrete-reinforced heat shielding that I also borrowed from the Cylinder. Worked pretty well, although I can't recommend atmosphere-surfing to everyone. Maybe take a shuttle instead, because it sure chewed up my margins when I finally landed outside Ted's shop with a smouldering pile of metals and a huge hole burned in the ass of my suit, exposing my underwear with little hearts on it for everyone to see.

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quasi-normalcy · 10 months

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When it comes right down to it, the root of this constant argument is simple: people want the outlaw of Sherwood Forest to belong to them, to their own ideologies. Following Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood, there were arguments that this pseudo-historical Robin would have been a member of the Tea Party (Jared Keller, 2010), or that he was clearly a libertarian (Maura Pennington, 2012). During the era of McCarthyism, Robin Hood was banned from textbooks (Alison Kysia, 2013) in the United States for “promoting communism” with its rob-from-the-rich-give-to-the-poor schtick. If you were to ask me over friendly pints at a bar, I’d tell you without hesitation that Robin Hood and the Merry Men in Sherwood Forest are a gay socialist utopia that the world needs to embrace. But none of these interpretations can encompass the entirety of the legend. It is simply too vast and too long-lived. But this is the story we are most likely to recognize: The good king is away, and his little brother was left to rule in his place. The prince is an idiot and he surrounds himself with monstrous men, and he demands everything of his people. He taxes his citizenry bare and tells them that it is good for them. He sits on their gold like a great dragon and portends to virtue while they starve. He ignores their pleas for help and acts surprised when there is unrest in his country. Never fear! Everything will be all right, because a dispossessed nobleman is here to stop the prince and his lackeys! He even has friends to aid him in this national hour of need; they live secretly in Sherwood Forest and they rob from the rich and give to the poor. The tendency to portray Robin Hood as a nobleman who robs from people just like him—it smudges the image up, like grit on a lens. The very idea has a disingenuous sheen to it, or worse, a heavy aura of wishing thinking: Wouldn’t it be great if there was one super nice wealthy person who would make the rest of the wealthy people hand over their money and take care of the poor and needy around them? Wouldn’t it be even greater if he could alleviate them of said wealth in a comical fashion so that the concept of class warfare and potential revolution didn’t seem nearly so serious? Hollywood is failing us, and so are a multitude of current adaptations. It’s akin to making every female Disney lead a princess; every Robin Hood must come with a title and a patch of land that a mean sheriff or haughty prince can commandeer. It’s lazy storytelling, and worse for the fact that it has nothing to do with origin of the figure.

#robin hood #mythology

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