#two worlds collide part 14 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fakeuwus · 6 months

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URS | sim jaeyun

now playing ☾⋆⁺₊🎧✩°｡ urs by niki

"the best at being the worst, but fuck sake i'm already urs "

PAIRING: jake x femreader

SYNOPSIS: a recollection of moments that lead you to confessing your love to your best friend, jake sim.

GENRE: best friends to lovers, fluff, angst (not sorry), student au

WORD COUNT: ~3.4k

WARNINGS: one curse word, mentions of god-drinking-loss of virginity, jake is oblivious, lowercase intended (mention of jay as well) barely proofread, kinda rushed (you can tell the second part was written last HELP)

MESSAGE FROM NIC: HAPPY (late) JAKE DAY 😁 (im a victim of procrastination sorry jake ily)

one rainy day in october was one you’d never forget. you had just started the 8th grade merely a month ago and you weren’t sure how well you were liking it. until that one fateful day. the day you deemed as the best day of your life.

it didn’t start out as the best at first though. the overcast sky had made you want to sleep in more, resulting in your mother threatening that you’d have to walk to school if you didn’t wake up soon. the rain that morning was brutal and unforgiving just like how your first period teacher was going to be if you didn't get to class on time. as soon as your mom parked at the drop-off section you burst through the door and made a run for the school entrance. your tiny body was being weighed down by your damp uniform and your loafers were dragging down the hall.

the clock was ticking with one minute left to make it to class and you’re determined to make it in time. perfect attendance meant a lot to your 14-year-old self and you weren’t going to let a storm get in the way of that. before you could reach for the door handle you feel yourself collide into something hard and you fall straight onto your back. “i’m so sorry! here let me help you up,” a boy’s voice rings in your ears and when you finally are able to look up, your heart stops beating.

a single spotlight shines down (it’s really just the janky hallway lights giving this effect but you’re too hypnotized to think about it) on a boy with the most beautiful, brown eyes you’ve ever seen. a bright, wide smile adorned his lips and you swear you can hear angels singing.

you take the hand that was outstretched to you and stand up, trying your best to get yourself together. you’re internally panicking because why does such a cute boy have to witness you in this state? hair all stringy, uniform jacket half off your body, and not going to lie, you kind of smell like wet dog. you think god is testing you today, he had to be.

the boy didn’t seem to mind though. he thought it was adorable the way you were flustered from running into him. all he could do was stare at you with that smile of his while you frantically made sure everything was in place. “ready?” the mystery boy says while opening the door to the classroom, flashing you a tiny grin. it takes you a second to realize but once you walk into the classroom, your face immediately flushes red in embarrassment. all eyes are on you and cute boy.

mentally you add this to the list of many reasons why you like to be punctual: you hated the nosy gazes people shot your way when you entered a room late. “YN! you’re 5 minutes late. this is unacceptable-” “oh i’m sorry about that sir. i’m new here and got lost and yn was just showing me to class. i’m jake by the way..” jake. jake. jake. you repeat his name in your head a few times before you decide that it’s now your favorite name in the world.

when your teacher assigns jake to be your seatmate and you his tour guide, for once you’re glad you were running late. you also mentally thank god and apologize for accusing him of all the bad things that happened this morning.

two peas in a pod is how people would describe you and jake. never once leaving each other’s side since that one rainy day. you two are so attached at the hip that your family stops questioning why one is always at the other’s house and starts asking when you guys would get together. it’s your freshman year of high school and everyone around you is starting to experiment with crushes and dating so it’s only natural for parents to be curious.

jake of course, is always quick to shut it down before you can even get a word out. “mom she’s my best friend! quit asking that.” you find yourself rolling your eyes everytime he says those infamous words. you want to tell his mom that you would love for her son to be your boyfriend. that you’ve liked him the moment you laid your eyes on him. that you’re not quite sure what love is at the age of 15, but you’re so sure that you feel it whenever you’re around jake.

though you never get to say those words, his has you thinking. you realize that this whole time he never, ever refers to you as a sister, just a best friend. is it silly that your heart flutters with the tiniest amount of hope that it gives you? call it delusion but you can’t help but smile when he leaves out that one little sentence.

“what? would it be so bad to date me?” you tease and lean in, your face almost touching his. if you were to utter another word your lips would be grazing his. the air around you two shifts, no one daring to make another move. his eyes flicker towards your lips for a second and look back up to meet your stare. that split second of hesitation on his end gives you a piece of hope that maybe. just maybe. he could feel the same way about you one day.

his parents share a knowing look before they exit the kitchen, leaving you two in your own world.

three is the number of girlfriends jake has had since you met him. you think three is too many. too many that weren’t you. the first two, gaeul and chaehyun, didn’t last very long.

jake’s track record of relationships so far never threatened your friendship in any way. it always went like this: jake and said girl add each other on social media. jake and girl enter the talking stage for a week. jake and girl start dating officially on the second week. jake and girl only last the next two weeks.

on the fourth week, jake and girl break up because they’re bored and you’re there to fix his broken heart (which only takes him a day of you two playing with layla at the dog park to get over it).

you figured when he meets yizhuo during junior year, it’ll be the same routine all over again. on exactly the fourth week of them being together, you find yourself knocking on his door with two triangle kimbaps and two mango flavored melona ice bars in a plastic bag. it’s what you always brought to cheer him up from a tragic (not really) breakup.

the door swings open and it’s not jake who answers, it’s yizhuo. “oh hi yn! i didn’t know you and jake were hanging out today? i can leave if you guys had plans!” all you can do is smile at her and nod your head no.

that’s another thing about jake’s girlfriends. they’re just as sweet as he is and they give you no reason to hate them. in the back of your mind you figure thats why jake doesn’t like you like that. your smart mouth and sassy attitude aren’t what he looks for in girls. he wants kind, beautiful girls as girlfriends, the total opposite of you. the space you take up in his heart is only enough room to be his best friend and his best friend only.

when you get home from basically being rejected, jake sends you an “im sorry :(“ text. you simply reply back with “its fine” because you can never stay mad at him.

you hate yourself for being weak and having the biggest soft spot for jake. he could even forget your birthday and you’d still forgive him. but how could you not?

as the night is nearing to a close and you’re laying in bed, a buzzing noise jolts you awake. taking your phone from the nightstand, you feign annoyance at the caller, “did you need to call in the middle of the night? i’m about to sleep you know!”

“don’t be so dramatic,” you could practically hear how his eyes are rolling playfully now, “i’m at your window. let me in doofus.” and even though you swore up and down to yourself that today was the day you start getting over jake, you let him in your room.

both of you end up on the floor, your backs resting on the foot of your bed with no one saying a word. the tension is thick for some reason and jake wants to get rid of it as fast as he can.

“hey,” he nudges your shoulder with his, “are you mad at me because i didn’t hang out with you earlier? in my defense, we didn’t have official plans.”

and there it his. his signature pouty face he always pulls when you’re mad at him. he knows it’s your kryptonite. you absolutely can’t resist it. and so you crack.

“okay stop it with that face i’m not mad! it was my fault for showing up unannounced. i’m sorry if i interrupted you and yizhou, i didn’t think she’d be there.” your voice goes weak by the end of your sentence, the mention of his girlfriend making you nauseous.

jake slides his arm around your shoulders and he brings you into a side hug. you allow yourself to melt into him and savor this moment, deciding that getting over jake will be for another time.

the tension in the air is dissipated into a comforting silence. it’s just jake and you. you and jake. something you wish will never change.

(jake and yizhuo end up staying together for eight weeks. you think eight is too many.)

four years later and you and jake are now 18, entering the next stage of life. college. it had been four years since the day you met him in that hallway, drenched from the rain. those years ended up being filled with late movie nights, countless study dates, and getting caught sneaking out for convenience store runs together way too many times. jake consumed every aspect of your youth and you couldn't help but feel excited that the future will too.

it’s the second time the two of you start freshman year together and a pact is made to stick together. not that anything would get in the way of your friendship because nothing ever has yet, but you both feel with this new beginning you guys needed to solidify the strong friendship you share. a new school meant new hobbies, new classes, new teachers, and more importantly, new friends. you both pinky promise to stay by each other’s side no matter what college would throw at you guys.

unfortunately, promises were always meant to be broken. the first couple of months started off strong, you and jake getting drunk on saturdays and being hungover at the library on sundays catching up on school work. the newfound freedom you both had made for the ultimate college experience. you two managed to form a little friend group that quickly grew close. there was never a dull moment with everyone around and especially never a dull moment with jake. things were good until they weren’t anymore and you couldn’t pinpoint exactly where everything started falling apart.

could it have been when jake lost his virginity to that cool senior ryunjin? that couldn’t be it, he never talked to her again and even expressed he wished it was you who he lost it to. (you don’t let it get to your head though, jake was never a coherent drunk.)

could it have been when he skipped out on your weekly study sessions for the first time to try out for intramural flag football? nope, that wasn’t it at all. though you were sad to not have been with jake that sunday to recap the wild events from the previous night, you were happy he was indulging in sports since it was his favorite thing to do (after hanging out with you of course.)

could it have been when jake said he strictly sees you as a best friend to the guys when they were teasing him about you? well, maybe. you didn’t mean to eavesdrop while you were walking up to the spot in the quad your friends always lounged at but upon hearing your name, you couldn’t help it.

“dude c'mon, you mean to tell me you’ve never once kissed yn? not even accidentally?” jay questioned while laying on his back, soaking up the sun. jake shrugs while sipping on his coffee, “nah man she’s been my best friend since we were in middle school. it would be really awkward.” jay seems to not believe it but he doesn’t pry anymore. “whatever man, all i’m saying is that if i had a “best friend” as pretty as yn i would’ve wifed her up real quick.” you don’t stay long enough to listen to what the rest of the conversation entails so you don’t hear jake say he’s considered it many, many times.

you should be used to him showing disdain at the idea of anything romantic towards you. you’ve spent all these years hearing the same comment over and over so it shouldn’t affect you this much. but this time, it’s different. though there may have been times that jake blew you off, he always did something to make up for it. growing up with jake meant you got to witness the changes he went through. he no longer pulled that cute pouty face to apologize to you. instead, he would buy you your favorite coffee and write cute notes on the cup everyday for a week. he would surprise you with movie tickets to a movie he knew you were interested in at the time. he would plan “epic sleepovers” (his words not yours) and cuddle you to sleep on those nights.

he makes up for the times he isn’t there for you and for a moment, you accept his new form of apologizing. “actions speak louder than words,” is a notion you firmly believed in so this false sense of reality jake created between the two of you only makes your heart grow fonder of him. so when he said he could never see you in that way, it hurts this time.

five days of ignoring jake is what it took for him to come banging on your apartment door, beeging to talk to you. it hurt you to have to do this, but what he did to you at a party about a week ago was your final straw.

it should’ve been like any typical saturday night. the friend group attending a random frat party and getting shitfaced wasn’t anything new, in fact you guys seemed to top every weekend together and this one shouldn’t have been different. it started with an intense game of beer pong, guys vs. girls. the only catch, losers have to give the winners a kiss. you don’t miss the way jay orchestrates the teams leading you and jake to go against one another and you definitely don’t miss jake’s unreadable expression when he realizes what’s going on.

did the thought of kissing you really disgust him that much? you shrug it all off and continue to play because there was no way you were getting out of this situation with your drunk friends. they’d never let you hear the end of it calling you a “pussy” for chickening out on a simple game of beer pong. as the game goes on, you can feel your nerves growing. no matter the outcome, you were about to have your very first kiss with jake out of all people. once your final throw of the game makes it into the last cup, the crowd around you cheers.

you glance at jake with hopeful eyes but his never meet yours. before you could even take a step towards him, he interrupts you. "guys i’m not gonna kiss yn. friends don’t do that, it’s weird.” he steps away from the group and you can hear your heart shattering in your chest. taking a look around all you see are pitiful eyes directed towards you.

that night ended in you crying yourself to sleep, the realization hitting you that after everything you two have been through, jake truly didn’t feel the same as you did. the destructive thoughts plaguing your mind lead you to ignoring jake for the first time ever in your friendship with him. you couldn’t handle seeing him as he basically embarrassed you in front of all of your friends. if jake couldn’t even last one second kissing you because he lost a stupid game of beer pong, what makes you think he could ever want to be in a relationship with you?

hours have passed now and jake hasn’t stopped knocking at your door. he’s sitting on the cold, concrete floor leaving light taps while the words “yn, let me innn” leave his mouth every two minutes. the weather turned gloomy, much like your mood, and you finally decide to let jake in. you can’t have him walking back home in the rain can you?

“finally. yn please let me apologize-” “what’s there to apologize for? i’m not sure why you waited outside the door for so long when we have nothing to talk about.” jake shakes his head in disbelief. sure you can be pessimistic and hard headed at times but it was never directed towards him. he leads you to sit across from him on your tiny couch and the awkwardness settles in.

“look. i’m sorry for what i said that night. i just didn’t want to do anything you’d regret. we’ve been friends for so long and i-”

“GOD JAKE! are you an idiot?! why would i ever regret kissing you? have you been this blind the whole time?” when he doesn’t say a word you continue, “i have been in love with you this whole damn time! i love your beautiful brown eyes. your cute smile. the way you laugh at everything i do even when i make a bad joke. i love the that you remember every little thing about me and you listen to every word i have to say. i love how you have the biggest heart and you always left a space in it for me all of these years. how you make sure i’m never left out. how we can we be absolutely be doing nothing but it doesn’t matter because i’m with you.

so yes. i WANTED to kiss you. i thought that would finally be my chance but i guess not. you clearly don’t feel the same way and i appreciate you staying outside my door for so long to apologize but i’m far too embarrassed now that i’ve finally confessed so if you could just please leave so i can start getting over you.”

once you finish rambling you finally take a look at jake. you know him like the back of your hand, always being able to read his emotions but lately, you’re not so sure. you can’t seem to figure out what he’s thinking right now and you’re sure his silence is a sign you’ve been right this whole time.

“are you gonna let me speak now?” you nod your head slowly and let him talk. “i know. i’m an idiot. i’m an idiot for never realizing your feelings but an even bigger one for not realizing my own.” he makes his way towards you and takes your face in his hands, “i’m in love with you too yn. i love everything about you and then some.” his confession leaves you at a loss for words and jake takes it as a sign to finally kiss you.

when his lips touch yours everything feels right again. you’ve waited so long for this moment and it couldn’t have been more perfect. butterflies erupt in your stomach and sparks are flying everywhere. after a few shared kisses you rest your forehead against his. a smile breaks onto your face and you stare into his eyes longingly. it was just jake and you. you and jake.

“so. will you be mine yn?”

“i was already yours to begin with, doofus.” jake flashes that cute smile of his that you love and leans in to kiss you once again.

you've spent four years wondering if jake could ever return your feelings. day after day being his best friend that's hopelessly in love with him. now that you didn't have to wonder anymore, you deem that this rainy day is the best day of your life.

#nic's library ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#fakeuwus #jake sim #jake sim fic #jake sim x reader #jake sim fluff #jake sim angst #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #best friends to lovers #jake enhypen #jake enha #fanfic #jake fluff #jake angst #jake x reader #jake fic #sim jaeyun

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fortheloveofwonderland · 11 days

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Hit the link limit again.

Spencer x Reader Series Masterlist 1

Spencer x Reader Series Masterlist 2

Spencer x Reader Oneshots

Rusty - After suffering unimaginable horrors in his three months spent in prison, Spencer Reid struggles to bounce back to his former glory. And when he almost dies at the hands of Benjamin Merva, it’s one trauma too many to bear. So Spencer ups sticks and relocates to a ranch in the middle of nowhere, leaving behind his job, his friends and his relationship.

And then he meets you, a mysterious stranger, who helps him out of a tight spot. You’re looking for a place to lay low and he’s in need of assistance. It’s a match made in heaven. Isn’t it?

You both have pasts you’d rather remained buried. But when those pasts both collide in your present, it can either tear you apart or force you close together.

You’re both just a little rusty, but practice makes perfect. (Fem! Reader) NSFW 18+

Chapter 1 - Wanted Dead or Alive

Chapter 2 - Take Me Home, Country Roads

Chapter 3 - I Walk the Line

Chapter 4 - The Ballad of the Lonesome Cowboy

Chapter 5 - Gunpowder and Led

Chapter 6 - Tumbling Tumbleweeds

Chapter 7 - Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)

Chapter 8 - A Horse With No Name

Chapter 9 - A Cowboys Cowgirl

Chapter 10 - Back in the Saddle Again

Chapter 11 - All My Ex’s Live in Texas

Chapter 12 - Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

Chapter 13 - Friends in Low Places

Chapter 14 - Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

Chapter 15 - Heavens Just a Sin Away

Chapter 16 - Take Your Memory With You

Chapter 17 - Gunfight at the O.K. Corral

Chapter 18 - So Little I Wanted - two part chapter

Chapter 19 - So Little I Got - two part chapter

Chapter 20 - Fires Don’t Start Themselves

Chapter 21 - Night Riders Lament

Chapter 22 - If Tomorrow Never Comes

Chapter 23 - Only the Lonely

Chapter 24 - Bless the Broken Road

#spencer reid #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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wosoluver · 22 days

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Not good at saying goodbyes.

part 4/4 - previous.

Lena Oberdorf x reader.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

The match day came around. You were glad to be in the starting line-up. Last few days had been a little less insufferable as you tried going back to your routine.

You had been playing great. But not enough to make sure the team scored. As everyone started feeling a little desperate over time running out, you all gathered in the goal area, after managing a corner kick. As the referee gave the go ahead, you all jumped, trying to score a header.

You didn't know if you had miscalculated your actions or if someone else was at fault for it, but your head had hardly collided with another player's.

You instantly fell to the ground. You tried to say something, but your vision had quickly blurred turning black, and there was an awful ringing in your ears.

You had fallen unconscious.

"Y/N! Can you hear me?" Georgia tried to keep as calm as possible, like a captain should.

"Get out of my fucking way! Y/N? Are you okay? Y/N!" no one had ever seen Lena like this. Not in Wolfsburg, not at the national team.

She pushed everyone in her way to kneel right next to you.

"Y/N! Call the medics, the damn medics! Why are they not here yet?"

"Obi calm down! They're here." Lea said while holding her best friend back as you were being put on the stretcher.

"Hey, I'm here! I'm here, I love you...okay?"

she wiggled out of Lea's grip, as she walked, holding your hand as they carried you out of the field.

"Lena!" - they pulled her in a hug, as a small tear ran down her cheek. "You need to concentrate, we only have 25 minutes left. I need you here."

No words came out of her. All she could do was nod.

Twenty-five minutes had never seemed so long. She rant to the locker room to get showered and changed, so she could follow you, wherever you were.

"Do you know where they've taken her?" she asked Giulia. She would definitely know.

"Yes. Everyone is going back to the hotel. We can uber there."

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"I'm so sorry. I was so stupid. When I saw you laying unconscious, I was so desperate, I couldn't lose you again." she said sitting on a chair next to you. You were laying down, eyes closed. "I has devastated when you left. I celebrated your birthday every year, made my mom make a cake and all. Until about 14, then it started feeling terrible. So I stopped. I insisted on setting up your stocking for christmas and-"

"You still haven't watched the Hannah Montana movie. I know." you whispered out as best as you could.

"Your awake!"

"Have been since before you got here."

"You were pretending?"

"No, I was napping, they gave me some meds for the headache. They're only waiting for the scan and test results to come back, so they can discharge me. Just a mild concussion."

"Did you just say 'just'? You blacked out! It could have been so much worse!"

"But it wasn't! Do I have a bruise?"

"No. I mean yes. Don't panic."

"Lena-"

"It's Obi."

"Obi, I'm sorry about everything. I was such a foolish child. I've regretted that every single day since then. You won't lose me this time."

"I know. And I'm sorry for the way I have been acting. I've missed you so much. You have no idea. So much has happened."

"I tried my best to keep up with everything. So, national team's best young player huh?"

"And you! Playing for the best team in the world! Also you clearly play like a spaniard."

"I can't tell if that's a good thing or not."

"It's both. At least you remember the same plays we used to do."

"Excuse me?" the doctor said as he walked in. "Your results are back. You're good. I'll discharge you, but you'll have to take it easy. Not playing or training for two days, just for caution. Also don't recommend you drive. I'll prescribe you medication for the headache you'll definitely have and you have to come in again tomorrow afternoon, for a check. So I can clear you, definitively."

"Okay then, thank you."

"No problem, see you tomorrow."

You both left the room to meet with Giulia in the waiting area.

"Ah good to see you two getting along."

"Thank you for coming too."

"No problem, do you remember anything?"

"Not really anything after hitting my head, until I woke up here."

"You should have seen Lena! 'Please don't leave, I love you!'. No one believed their eyes."

"Awn said you loved me?"

"No I didn't, Giulia shut it!"

"She did! She held your hand all the way out of the field. Even cried a little."

"That's cute. Thank you for being there." you said looking deep into her eyes. As she gave you a reassuring nod.

"Who won the game after all?"

"Not us. But it's fine, we're still winning the championship."

"I can't believe I won't be able to fly back with the team."

"I'll stay over too. Tomorrow is day off anyways." said Obi.

"Well were arrived at the hotel." said Giulia grabbing our attention.

Your bestfriend made sure to walk you to your room. But before she could walk away, you stopped her.

"Do you want to have a sleepover?"

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Thank you for this great request! Hope you enjoyed. Sorry for taking so long on the last part 🩷

#woso x reader #lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #dfb frauen #futfem

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nininikki · 1 year

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𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 | eren jaeger x black

II. what did i tell you?

✧ summary! — following a blundered primary and a heated argument with his wife, eren knows exactly who to call.

✧ warnings! — mentions of alcohol consumption, suggestive sexual language, adultery (eren is an aspiring cheater again), age gap—reader is 29 and eren is 40

✧ author’s note! — part 2 is here! so happy that you all are loving this series & i thank you for all the support!! 🤎🪽 lmk if i missed anything in the warnings!

✧ word count! — 2.5k

AUGUST 12, THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“i can’t even…” mikasa sputtered, running a shaky hand through the sable—and once perfectly coiffed—hair atop her head. “i can’t believe you, eren.” she let the sleek mop of her fur coat droop down her arms, seemingly indifferent as to whether or not it landed on the nearby coat rack. as he watched it collide with the tile floor of their foyer, eren recalled the eight thousand dollar price with a scoff.

“save it, mika.” eren huffed, trying to drown out the sounds of her heels clicking against the floor as she tailed him into the living room.

“oh, trust me, i have. i saved it on the bus. i saved it on the plane. i even saved it on the ride home when it was just the two of us.”

“i meant save it for someone who wants to hear it, ‘cause i sure as hell don’t, mikasa.” he blew the words out as an exasperated sigh.

mikasa barked, the tone of her voice akin to a creaky window. “i’m gonna speak now, and you will hear every word!”

eren could tell just by the way the words scratched against her throat that she was about to lay it on thick. and mikasa had a very poor habit of not knowing when to fucking stop. if he wanted to listen to someone berate him for every mistake he’d ever made, he’d pick up the phone and call his father.

“honestly, eren, do you even want this election?”

“of course i do. do you not see how hard i’ve been working?”

“oh, is that what that was? were you working hard at that primary, because all you managed to do was piss me off.”

“don’t start with me right now. i’m not in the damn mood for this.”

“and you think i am? you think i’m in the mood to be having this conversation?” mikasa laughed, but it felt more like a sarcastically delighted scoff. her eyes went glossy with something familiarly maniacal, and eren could more than tell what she was getting ready to do. arranging a beautiful artillery of words at the tip of her tongue for the sole purpose of destroying him in that very moment. “i mean, do you not realize how lucky you are? you’re smart, you’re rich, you’re handsome, you come from one of the most powerful families in the country. you could have the office right now if you wanted. but you don’t want it.

“i had dreams, y’know. i could’ve been a partner at my firm, but i gave it up. and for what? so you could screw around behind that podium?” mikasa kicked out of her shoes before hooking the heels under her fingers.

eren released the bridge of his nose from the pressing grip of his fingers. “i’ll be at the guest house tonight.”

mikasa only sighed. they seldom got in fights that led to them sleeping separately, but in those rare instances, it was the best (and sometimes the only) option. “right. well, get some rest. we’re meeting with levi tomorrow.”

he took a chance glance into his wife’s eyes—an oasis of grey, brimming with thoughts and emotions of which she had barred his access. save for the frustration evident on all the other parts of her face.

it was so eerily similar to that of his mother. he could count on both hands the number of times she blinked that same world-weary gaze in his father’s direction. how long had she been sleeping in the guest bedroom before she’d considered a divorce?

“yeah. you too.”

14 MAY, SIX MONTHS AFTER THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“don’t even try to deny it.” mikasa said. a sick, wifely part of her burned with satisfaction at the sight of your infuriatingly beautiful face—cracked into a myriad of distressing pieces, like a plate she’d just struck with a hammer. “and before you ask, no. i don’t have proof.” if she were being a hundred percent honest with herself, it hadn’t even crossed her mind to gather any proof. what had her marriage done to her? she was a lawyer, and top of her class, godamnit! if eren’s classless affair reduced her to a point of throwing around baseless accusations, then she was just as bad as him. which meant that she needn’t waste any more time on this than absolutely necessary. “but i don’t need any, either. i mean, look at you two.”

you scoffed, seeming to forget that your glass was empty and being met with a jarring (and actually rather rude) slurping noise. thankfully, the waiter was there to swipe the glass from your hand before any more damage to her ears could be done. although, mikasa was almost sick with pleasure as she watched your futile attempt at trying not to crumble. “look at—look at what, exactly?”

“i don’t know what it was, but part of me could just tell he wanted you. maybe it was me being his wife and such, but i just knew. that first night i introduced you two, he had this—this hard-on in his eyes whenever he looked at you.” she thought back to that very night. where you’d seemingly been oblivious to her husband ogling you like you were a piece of meat. “but i could deal with that. i could screw him a little more often. we were supposed to be trying anyway. but then,” at the mention of them trying, mikasa caught you shifting uncomfortably in your seat, and thought to herself, good. she hoped your mind would run itself wild imagining all the trying they did.

“but then?”

mikasa had to brace herself. because eren could be as horny for as many twenty year olds as he wanted. he could have as many stupid, meaningless affairs as he wanted. him being unhappy in their marriage, she could handle that. her husband being careless enough to risk his presidency over some college freshman, she could handle that. none of it would’ve been worse than what he actually did. “i think he actually started to like you.”

AUGUST 12, THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

you put your house phone out of its ringing misery with a clipped, “hello,” for you had barely graced past your front door and kicked off your heels when it began it’s treacherous trill.

“bad time?” the voice on the other end answered, a voice you immediately (and with some chagrin) recognized to be governor eren jaeger. it’s smooth and relaxed, like he’s just ran a glass of whiskey down his throat. your drunken timbre feels clumsy in comparison.

“oh.” you realize aloud, situating yourself at the foot of your bed. “hi, mr. governor.”

“unh-unh. what did i tell you?”

almost giddily, you plunged your head backwards into your plush, messy comforter, your house phone still clutched in your fingers. “eren.” a low hum rumbled through the receiver, as palpable as though your ear was pressed against his chest. this was an unbelievably bad time for you. your body was still mangled with remnants of fun. you were drunk, sprinkled in party glitter, and you had sporadically made out with jean kirschtein, so you were a little horny too.

“that’s better.” this was so incredibly bad for you. eren was so incredibly bad for you. he was even more enticing over the phone, if not more so. you were so stupid, and you were so screwed if you stayed on the phone with him any longer.

but, really, you couldn’t help yourself. “well, eren, how’d you get my number?”

“uh, mikasa, actually. she wrote it in my planner.”

“that sounds like her. are you forgetful like that?” in the background, you heard the almost hypnotizing sounds of ice clink-ing against a glass. somehow, you just knew it was scotch he was drinking, and you couldn’t fight the various mental images that came with that knowing.

eren only chuckled, and you could practically feel the scotch roll down his throat. “oh, she doesn’t do it for me. it’s in case her planner gets caught in a fire or something.”

at that, a clumsy laugh punched from your throat. “can’t tell if you’re funny or if i’m just drunk.”

“which do you think it is?” your dress suddenly began to feel like a thousand pounds of hot fur on your body rather than the skimpy piece of sequins that it was. eren did that to you. and when you left an ecstatic giggle in the form of your answer, he only further egged you on in your flustered state. “what, you think i’m funny? c’mon tell me.”

if he were in front of you at that moment, you would’ve slipped from your dress without a second’s hesitation. how crazy would it be for you to take your dress off while you were on the phone with him? it’s not like he’d see it or anything. but you so desperately wanted him to, and the fact that he wouldn’t made you so fucking crazy. “i think that you’re lots of things, eren.”

“mhm, like what?”

“can’t say. i’m too drunk.” you let your eyes press shut for a bit, trying almost futilely to think of anything that didn’t involve flashing the governor of california. “and, hey, why’d you call me, anyway? not that i mind or anything, but don’t you have, like, an election to win?”

eren breathed a sigh—docile, yet so strangely and dangerously persuasive. “yeah, but…talking to you is a lot more fun.”

“noooo, come on. tell me the real reason.”

“that is the real reason. i swear on it. we actually were supposed to call you at some point and congratulate you on the premiere. just figured i should get around to it now.”

“do you call all your famous actress friends at—” you cut your eyes over to the alarm clock on your bedside table. “—almost one in the morning? i mean, you’re lucky i was coming home from a party, and not dead asleep or something.”

“party, huh?”

“yeah.” you actually couldn’t help the way your thighs pressed together. “still got my dress on and everything.”

“really?” the muffled sound of him shuffling in his seat made you pinch your lip between your teeth.

you giggled, a reaction you’d probably have to start getting used to for as long as you were around him. “yeah.”

“bet you look real pretty.” he thinks i’m pretty. you could’ve moaned at the thought.

suddenly, your voice was a higher, breathier octave. like you were whispering the words in his ears. “are you thinking about what i look like in my dress?”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

you wanted to take it further. you wanted to ask him what he was wearing. you wanted to ask him if you were making him hard, although a part of you knew you were. you wanted to slide your fingers under your panties and let him hear just how bad he was for you.

just as desire began to pool in your belly, so did a sharp pang of guilt. married man, married man, married man. but he had thrown a few compliments your way and you managed to forget all about that.

“eren,” how wrong would it be for you to slide your dress up your legs until it bunched at your waist? “you know we...” if you slipped the straps off your shoulders and let the rest fall from there, what then? “we c—”

“i know, i know.” he cooed, and his voice crawled out of the receiver and laced you with something. you needed him to whisper those words over your ears, or between your lips, or against whatever body part of yours he’d just finished kissing. you needed it so bad you could’ve cried. “i’m sorry.”

you sat upright, feeling immediately more sober than you had all night. “don’t be.”

“let me. let me be sorry, because i am.” the way he spoke to you was so toothachingly sweet, you think you would walk yourself off a cliff if he was talking you through it. “‘m sorry.”

your eyes close, and you were not sure if they were fluttering shut from tiredness or pressing closed from angst. the only thing you were sure of was that this conversation couldn’t possibly continue any longer. “it’s alright. i think i should be getting to bed anyway. i don’t usually stay up this late talking to future presidents.”

eren chuckled. “maybe you should do it more often.”

“maybe i should.”

AUGUST 12, THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“what the fuck,” was how you answered the phone the following morning. you had fallen asleep with it still tucked against your ear and clutched between your fingers, so you’d felt its ringing in all of its chirruping treachery.

“bad time again?” eren responded, his voice tiptoeing over a laugh.

“extremely.” you sat up in bed and took a chance glance at your bedside clock. the only person who could get a pre-eleven o’clock answer from you on one of your off days was hange. and even they knew that the resulting response was usually so grouchy that they’d be better off not bothering. so it all but bewildered you as to why you’d even let eren stay on the phone long enough to come to this realization. “it’s barely ten.”

“so i gather you’re not a morning person?” eren seemed to be the exact opposite. his voice was as brilliantly ecstatic at ten in the morning as yours would normally be after a shot of tequila. it made you want to swing your curtains open and stand tall in the sun, even with the headache spearing through your skull.

despite the small onslaught of revelations, you answered, “if it wasn’t obvious enough.”

“sooo, i’m assuming this is a really bad time to invite you to dinner with mikasa and i.”

“dinner?”

you’re only briefly surprised at his audacity to ask you to dinner with his wife after the night you two had. but then again, you doubt he would’ve even called you if she hadn’t planted your number in his planner. the realization was an emotional whiplash that wasn’t helped by your hungover state.

“uh, yeah. i meant to ask last night, but i guess i didn’t really get around to it.”

i wonder why, you’d wanted to say, but suppressed the urge with a cough. “oh, well, i—”

“and don’t feel pressured to say yes. i know my wife can be a force.”

his wife. the woman who probably awoke him this morning with a smattering of kisses. the woman who felt his arms wrap around her in the comfort of their bed not two minutes after he’d gotten off the phone with you. the same woman whose eyes were filled with nothing but guilt-inducing kindness when she invited you over for golf that night.

the answer should be a flat no. sorry, eren. i don’t think i can do dinner with you and your wife. partly because i’m very obviously and very, very inappropriately sexually attracted to you. and partly because i think i’m a little jealous of your wife. i haven’t quite unpacked that part yet, but i’m sure here—on the phone with you—is probably the worst place to do it. yeah, uh, bye. so, when you fix your stupid lips to say, “eren, the last thing you could ever do is pressure me. of course i’ll go.” you can only assume it’s for those same reasons.

tags ✧˖*°࿐ — @nyanglock @beyondsuki @westcinny @taylarxse @ittostan @rensbby @madsoncrack @shawtynoire @braxxinterlude @kai7911

#nikki writes ✶#attack on titan #aot #aot fanfiction #snk #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin eren #shingeki no kyoujin smut #eren jaeger fanart #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x black reader

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leennaan · 11 months

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I'm the anon that ask would you write for guilia I have an idea for her maybe the reader plays a different sport you choose and reader guilia are both each other number one fans

I loved the request. I hope you like it too. Biathlon was and will always be my first and favorite sport. I have many happy memories with it so I hope I could incorporate it a bit in this Fic😊😄

Giulia Gwinn/ When two sports collide

Being a professional athlete was always your dream. When you were younger you did all sorts of sports, Judo, swimming, football, cross country skiing, you did everything. And you were good at almost everything.

But two sport remained in your heart, football and skiing. When you got older you changed from cross country to Biathlon and as soon as the riffle was added into the mix you knew that Biathlon was you sport.

Being one of the best from early helped a lot. So in your first season as a Biathlet, you had just turned 14, you won the German youth championship.

Football would always remain a big part of your life and you still played with your old teammates now and then but Biathlon became your life.

Giuli and you met at a sports event and instantly hit it off.

She was the one to ask you on a date and from that day one you became almost inseparable. Still everyone around you thought that the two of you were just best friends.

And you played along, not directly hiding your relationship but also not rubbing it in. You loved the soft and subtle touches you guys shared whenever friends were around.

When Giulia ruptured her ACL for the second time you knew how hard the coming month would be for her and with your Welt cup season just around the corner you couldn’t even be by her side.

The good thing about it was, that she tried to come to all your races.

When you won the first race and so had the privilege to start in the yellow bib as the overall leading athlete for the first time in your senior career your girlfriend was standing in the crowd cheering you on.

It was a great feeling as the two of you couldn’t always be at each others completions because of conflicting schedules.

She traveled with you to Gelsenkirchen when you represented Germany at the World Team Challenge at the Schalke Arena.

When you walked into the home changing room she joked that you would be the only person to get her into another home changing room other than Bayerns.

She was the first to congratulate you after you won the race together with your teammate Benedikt Doll.

So when your season came to an end and you won the Overall Cup for the first time in your career Giulia was of course in the crowd. She pulled you into a bone cracking hug as soon as you had gotten rid of your ski’s and riffle. „I am so proud of you baby! You had such a phenomenal season and even tho I hate that I ruptured my ACL again I am so happy that I could be at so many of your races.“

She pulled back slightly to kiss you on the forehead. „I love you Giuli. Thank you that you were always by my side. I now how hard this has been for you but we’re so strong and I am so happy that you were able to be with me almost this whole season!“

So when Giuli had her first match after almost a whole year you where standing in the crowd, wearing her Trikot and shouting the loudest whenever she had the ball.

After the game, which Bayern won 3-0, you came down to the pitch. And was the first to greet you, having spent a lot of time with Giulis Teammates you became great friends with most of them.

„Hey long time no seen.“ She said before she pulled you into a quick hug.

„Hey Syd. Great game!“ „Thank you, I think the whole team was just happy to have Giuli back on the pitch.“

„She was so nervous the whole night, scared to let you all down or that she wasn’t got enough and I think also a bit scared of the possibility to rupture something again.“

But before Syd could answer you Giulia had crushed into you.

You laughed and hugged her back. „You look good in my Trikot, it suits you.“ She mumbled, not letting you go.

“You two are sickening cute, you know.” Came the voice of Klara from behind you.

You pulled back slightly to look at her.

“You are just jealous that your boyfriend isn’t here to hug you.” You couldn’t help answering. Giulia and you could almost see how Klara as well as Syd, who was still standing beside you, worked you words out.

“Wait wai wait, you guys are together!? Since when? Oh my God. I thought we were friends Giuli. Why did it you say something?”

You and your girlfriend couldn’t help but laugh about Klaras dumbfounded face.

“I mean we didn’t exactly hid it. We life together. I was at so many of her races. And my post after her World Cup win wasn’t exactly subtle, was it?”

Giulia had posted a picture with the two of you hugging, her kissing the corner of you lips. She had captioned it with the words “my golden girl”

The speculations around your relationship went up afterwards but still not one of your friends believed the rumors still believing that the two of you were only best friends.

With Sydney und Klara knowing it wasn’t long until the whole team knew. All being happy for the two of you.

That evening, when the two of you were lying in bed together relaxing, Arms around each other just socking the other in you couldn’t be happier.

Your relationship may not be the easiest with the two sports often colliding but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You were each others biggest fans, wether you were at the race or match or you were watching it on TV, always supporting each other.

“I love you Giulia Gwinn. I am so so happy to have you by my side.”

Later that night when you waited for Giuli to finish up her nightly routine you made a Instagram post for your Girl. Happy to show your support and Love.

Y/Nbiathlon

Liked by giuliagwinn and others

I am so proud of you. For now almost a year you were fighting to get back out there. Today all the hard work payed off. To see you back out on the pitch, doing what you love was one of the best moments in my life.

Sharing these moments with you will never get old.

Together trough thick and thin. I will always be by your side.

Love you endlessly, you no. 1 Fan❤️

—————-

(Just pretend that Pernille and Magdalena are Y/n and Giulia, I couldn’t find better pics😅)

#giulia gwinn #Giulia Gwinn x reader #bayern munich frauen #Bayern München Frauen #Biathlon ficklet #frauen bundesliga #woso x reader #woso imagine #Giulia gwinn imagine #Sydney lohmann #klara bühl

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jostystyles · 1 year

Text

cooler | tj

a/n: this is my entry for @antoineroussel 's winter fic exchange! demi, thanks for putting this together as always!! this fic was written for @butgilinsky <3 I hope you enjoy it dear!! special thanks to @comphy-and-cozy for letting me brain rot about my tyson jost = nick miller agenda, and @suitandtys for the title. divider graphics are by @firefly-graphics . this fic is inspired by nick and jess's first kiss in new girl. i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: fluff, alcohol, use of she/her pronouns. mat barzal is an instigator.

word count: 2.8k

The All-Star Weekend, for a certain group of guys, meant the ability to show off their skills for the game they love, and praise for being considered the best of the best. But for the rest of them, it meant something else.

Freedom & Relaxation.

Of course, the way the free time was being spent varied from player to player. Some guys returned home to spend time with their kids and families, some took weekend trips, and some just stayed put.

But for Tyson Jost, Mat Barzal, and Dante Fabbro, it meant a reunion. Typically, they only saw each other during the season when they played each other respectfully, and in the summer when they trained together amongst other things. This break, though, they’d be traveling to Cancun for a weekend getaway with some of their friends from back home. Though they all hailed from different hometowns, they had a pretty tight knit group that tried to see each other as much as possible. So when the group chat collectively agreed everyone would be free for a trip, it was decided. This was going to be a trip to remember.

“Wait, why the fuck do I need my passport?” Mat exclaimed inquisitively, his voice echoing through the speakers of the FaceTime call.

Abruptly pausing her packing, (Y/N) turned to grab her phone off the bed. “What? Mat, where the hell do you think Cancun is?”

“Uh. Florida.” He said, like she had asked him the stupidest question in the world.

“Jesus fuck, Mat, it’s in Mexico. Are you kidding me? Your plane ticket literally says you’re flying into Mexico.”

As if his mind had just been completely blown, which it had in a way, Mat’s expression turned to one of total shock. “Wow. That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

(Y/N) shook her head with a sigh, wondering how he has managed to make it this far. Out of all her close friends, Mat was the one she’d known the longest. The two of them had grown up on the same street, their families becoming friends over the years. Despite the jokes from everyone, they’d actually defied the odds to show that boys and girls can be just friends as they’d formed such a tight bond throughout their lives and consider each other like siblings.

Naturally, they had the same friends. Enter Dante, who came into the picture when he and Mat started playing hockey together. Over the years, the three of them grew closer and other friends came and went, but as they got older, a group solidified. As they became teenagers, Tyson became a part of that group. (Y/N) still remembers the day she first met him.

Her family was the last to arrive at the Fabbro’s lake house, as usual. This had been a tradition for the past few years, and she usually anticipated it each time. But for some reason she was nervous. She was 14 now, and things were changing. She was no longer the nerdy little girl that hung out with the hockey boys, physically at least. The thought of being in a bathing suit around a bunch of rowdy boys made her feel awkward and uncomfortable. She reminded herself it was just Mat and Dante, her two idiot best friends who would make fun of her for the color of the swimsuit, not how she looked in it. Shaking it off, she grabbed her suitcase and wandered through the cabin to the room she shared with Dante’s sisters. Tossing the bag on the bed, she quickly grabbed her book to head down to the water. (Y/N) closed the door behind her and turned around to walk away, only to take a few steps and collide with something bare and warm. She fell to the ground, letting out an “Oof.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going are you ok?” A voice rambled on.

“Yeah, no problem ‘m good, I-” (Y/N) replied, her voice faltering as she looked up. Her eyes were met with the softest brown ones, flashing at her with a look of concern. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

“Here, let me help you up. I’m Tyson, um, Tyson Jost. Mat and Dante’s friend from hockey.” The boy said, reaching down to help her up.

“I’m (Y/N). Also Mat and Dante’s friend, but um. Not from hockey.” She said, eliciting a laugh from Tyson.

He stuck his hand out before saying, “Well, here’s to hoping we become each other’s friend too.”

Shaking his hand, (Y/N) shook her head with a shy smile. A part of her knew her life would never be the same now that he was in it.

“...when Tyson gets in?”

The sound of Mat’s voice brought her back to reality. “Hm?” She replied. Rolling his eyes, Mat spoke with a teasing tone.

“I knew that saying his name would get your attention. Do you know when Tyson gets in?”

“You’re a dick. He gets in around the same time as you so I’d try and get to the house together. Gabe, Alicia, Jay and I will already be there.”

“Fer sure. You think this’ll be the trip you finally admit you’re in love with each other?”

(Y/N) shot him a glare. “I will hang up on you right now Mathew. Tyson is not in love with me.”

“You didn’t deny you’re in love with him though.”

Caught off guard, she stumbled over her words. Mat let out a laugh, saying, “(Y/N/N) you realize I know you better than anyone right? You aren’t fooling anyone. Except Tys. He’s definitely oblivious.”

“I will literally skin you alive and slice your achilles tendon if you say anything to him on this trip.”

“Love you too.”

If there was anything Tyson needed right now, it was a gigantic margarita on the beach. The past year of his life had been a bit insane, and he was in desperate need of a vacation. He’d missed his friends, too. They didn’t get to see each other that often now that they were older, and cherished times like this. His flight had landed from Buffalo a few minutes ago, and he was waiting at the baggage claim to grab his luggage. Scrolling through instagram to pass time, he felt a hand clap on his shoulder and whipped his head around.

“Oh hell yeah. Missed you brother, what’s up!” He said, turning to embrace Mat in a hug.

“Missed you too bud. You ready for the best weekend of your life? C’mon. Car’s here.”

“Jesus Christ, Leesh. I can’t believe your boss let you have his fucking house for the weekend. This place is insane.” (Y/N) exclaimed, taking in the sights that laid before her. Alicia’s boss had graciously let her utilize his beach mansion for the weekend as a thanks for her hard work at her company.

“Eh, perks of being fucking good at what I do.” Alicia said, taking a swig of moscato straight from the bottle. “Who wants a cocktail?”

“I sure do. Tequila sunrise, light on the sunrise, heavy on the tequila.” A voice cried out, followed by a huff of laughter.

Turning around, (Y/N)’s confusion turned into a smile. “Barzy, you’re not even through the door and you’re already asking for a drink? Why am I surprised?”

“You shouldn’t be. I love day drinking.” Mat stated, hugging her. “Watch out. Your boyfriend's right behind me.” He whispered in her ear, earning him a knee to his nether regions.

Pushing him away, (Y/N) turned towards the guy she’d been waiting far too long to see.

Tyson stood there, a small smile on his face. After the hell he’d been through the past 10 months, he still managed to smile. That was one of her favorite things about him. His brown eyes looked soft, and duller than usual, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the flight.

“C’mere you big oaf. I missed you, Tys.”

He hugged her for a bit longer than he intended. There was just something comforting about being in his best friend's arms again.

“Ok, if you two love birds are going to keep hugging, we’re going to get this party started. Drinking games start now.” Dante said, shoving two solo cups full of something their way.

Grabbing the cups, Tyson passed one to (Y/N). “Good to see you too, Big D. Lead the way.”

“I missed you, you know.” Tyson said, swinging his and (Y/N)’s entwined hands back and forth.

“I missed you too. Least we’re in the same state now though, right?”

“6 hours is still too far.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Well, at least I’m a train ride away instead of a plane.”

As they approached the patio, the party was already in full swing. Music was blasting, Mat was already trying to get Jay down from her place on top of the table, and Gabe and Alicia were mixing drinks like nobody's business.

Tyson shook his head. “Somebodies gonna fucking die here.”

“Either that, or we’re spending a night in a Mexican jail.” (Y/N) replied. The night was just about to begin.

To say everyone was fucked up would be putting it lightly. The drinks had been flowing consistently all evening, and it was approaching midnight. The gang had made their way inside for a game of who knows what. At this point, it was just a bunch of drunk people shouting things. Mat and Jay were sharing a bottle of wine, discussing God knows what under the dining room table. Gabe was shirtless, but wearing his swimsuit and dress socks. Tyson had somehow acquired a trench coat he found in one of the bedroom closets, and (Y/N) sported her bikini top and a bright pink tutu from god knows where.

“Guys, I think we need to call it a night. We’re gonna be so hungover tomorrow and it’s only the first day.”

“NO!” Alicia cried. “Don’t be a party pooper. You were out the latest in college.”

“We aren't in college anymore. I’m tired, Leesh.” (Y/N) wailed, resting her head dramatically on Tyson’s shoulder.

“Boring. Who wants to play another game?” Alicia shouted, gaining the attention of the whole house.

“How about good old fashioned, 7 minutes in heaven?” Jay chimed in, waggling her eyebrows mischievously.

“OOOh, nice one Jay. I’m in. Who votes Josty and (Y/N)?”

The room erupted in cheers, aside from (Y/N) and Tyson.

“Hold on, don’t we get a say in this?” Tyson retorted.

“Nope. Behind the iron curtain you go!” Alicia demanded, ushering them to the kitchen, where she then rolled the door that separated the two spaces shut.

A chant of “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” began amongst the other friends, as Tyson protested.

“Open the door! This isn’t funny guys.”

The chants continued, and (Y/N) sucked in a sharp breath at Tyson’s seeming wish to be left out. Would it really be that bad to him if they kissed?

After a moment, (Y/N) spoke up. “Ok, we kissed! Sent you a picture!”

From the other side of the door, Dante looked at the picture, which was of (Y/N) and Tyson with their lips pursed, angled at each others cheeks. “That is not a kiss! C’mon, Inspector Gadget, inspect those tonsils!”

Barzy chimed in, saying, “Yeah! C’mon, Josty. Just give (Y/N) a tender, sensual, kiss, and we’ll let you right out.”

“Mat, shut up!” (Y/N) cried, knowing full well he was having a field day with this.

Tyson was desperately trying to pry the door open, but was unsuccessful. His heart was beating out of his chest. This was not how he wanted this to go.

Leaning against the counter, (Y/N) pondered, “What’s the big deal? Let’s just suck it up and french a little.” That was the tequila talking.

Tyson shot his head up at her. “Ok, fine. But don't say ‘suck it up and french a little’.”

“Ok, fine, let’s do this.”

They walked towards each other, stopping when they were in close proximity. (Y/N) could feel her heart beating a mile a minute. Tyson’s hands reached out to settle on her forearms. She could see the sparkle in his brown eyes that wasn’t there before. Later, she’d come to know, that spark only existed for her.

“Let’s just do it.” Tyson said, his voice quivering slightly.

“Let’s do it.” (Y/N) echoed. “Do it.”

“Fine.”

“I’m doing it.”

“Fine, then do it.”

“Are you a tounger?”

“Tyson, what the hell.”

“Well, I don’t wanna put my tongue in your mouth if you don’t like it!”

(Y/N) sighed, laughing at her best friend. “Just kiss me!”

Tyson was freaking out. “OK, alright, great. That’s what I’m gonna do.” He grabbed her face, his fingers gracing her soft (Y/H/C) ever so lightly. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” (Y/N) replied, quietly.

Tyson closed his eyes, leaning in. (Y/N) pulled her head away, saying, “I’m sorry, you can’t do that!”

“What did I do?” Tyson asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Your face!”

“My face?”

“You can’t do that with your face.”

Tyson burst into laughter, (Y/N) soon following him. They stopped, glancing at each other for a brief moment. Tyson thought she was the prettiest girl in the world. He always had, ever since they met 10 years ago. Just as he was about to speak up, a banging ensued on the wall.

“Yo, I don’t hear any talking, so ya’ll better be smooching!” Dante screeched.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re getting to it.” Tyson said, not breaking eye contact with (Y/N).

The chants of “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” picked back up again.

“Ok Tyson, come on. Just kiss me.” (Y/N) said, frustrated.

“No, I’m not gonna kiss you.”

“Kiss me!”

“(Y/N), stop!” Tyson said harshly.

“God, Jost, just kiss me already!”

“No, not like this!” he almost shouted.

(Y/N)’s face turned to one of confusion. “What? What does that mean?”

Tyson took a step back, his face turning red. “No I didn’t mean… Nothing, I just. I didn’t mean it like that. I just, we can’t. That’s not, you know, like,” He was full on word vomiting, “Do you know like, it’s very, like, you don’t, that’s not what it…”

(Y/N) tilted her head, a small smile on her face. Before she could say anything, the door swung open, revealing Jay, with an insane look on her face.

“Ok, times up! Mat and I’s turn.”

Tyson was gone faster than (Y/N) could see, leaving her with nothing but a sobered up head full of confusion, and a heavy heart.

Everyone had since retreated to their rooms for the night, except for Jay and Mat who were probably still making out in the kitchen like they usually do when they’re drunk. Her door slightly ajar, (Y/N) saw a quick shadow while she was brushing her hair.

“Hey!” she cried out. Tyson stopped in his own doorway, turning around to see (Y/N) in hers. She stood there in her silk nightgown, bare faced, with the look of concern painted across her face that she often gave him.

“You ok, Tys?” She asked softly, stepping out into the hallway just a bit.

“Yeah, Im good. Just needed to sober up a bit, so I went and sat down by the beach.”

“Oh. Ok. Listen, about earlier. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I was just messing around, feeding off our idiot friends.” (Y/N) apologized.

“S’ Ok, (Y/N/N). It was just a game. I still think you’re cool.”

“I think you’re cooler. Night, Tyson.” She replied with a smile.

“G’night, (Y/N).”

Just as she turned to go inside her room, something shifted within Tyson. Like he wasn’t even thinking, he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her flush to him. Before either of them could speak, he pressed his lips onto hers, encapsulating them into a passionate kiss. His arms moved to her lower back, hugging her so forcefully as if it were to be the last time. (Y/N)’s arms were wrapped around his neck, tugging at the tufts of curls that lay at the back of his head. Their lips moved in harmony, Tyson kissing her again and again each time with more push than the last. They finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together and breathing heavily.

Tyson kissed her once more, than again, and again. He finally looked at her, his finger under her chin forcing her to look at him.

She was staring at him, her big beautiful (Y/E/C) that he loved so dearly, begging him to say something.

“I meant something like that.” Tyson told her, before dropping his hands from her figure and retreating into his room, and shutting the door.

(Y/N) stood there, in complete and utter shock. She brought her hand up to touch her lips, and let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Tyson Jost was going to be the death of her, and she’d been hoping to see the Grim Reaper for quite a while.

tags: @comphyjost @tinyhockey @2manytabsopen @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @ilyasorokinn @lt-natrace

#emmie writes #winter fic exchange '23 #i hope you like it:)#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost x reader #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #buffalo sabres

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wishingicouldfly · 5 months

Text

Favorite Fics 2023

Happy 2024! I always have a hard time narrowing down my favorites. A few stats this year, I read 155 fics (according to my admittedly not 100% correct database), and it's low because I've been watching LGBTQ+ media and reading less. I had 50+ fics that I rated 5/5, so narrowing down to 14 was me cutting out shorts, holiday fics, and rereads. These are in no particular order.

All is now Harmed by Fondleeds

It's still that dreamy kind of dark, nothing seeming real, but he knows that it's time to go, to whistle for Pippa and eat whatever he's got left in the fridge and start the drive down to Molly's. He can't seem to open the door. Maybe he doesn't want to face it, this new thing. Having Louis here feels like a betrayal. Harry tries not to think about what his Dad would have to say if he saw the journo sleeping on their pull-out, here to shake a settled sheet and watch the dust fly again. - AU. Harry's a farmer, Louis writes for The Age, and it hasn't rained in the Bourke Shire for six years.

Why I Like It: This is Excellent, but after 123K words, it's a WIP. Unfinished since May 2022, but that said, the writing is gorgeous, and I think that alone makes it worth the read.

2. Angels Fly by LilyBlue28

Harry is a lonely omega in the North Western White River Pack who is uncharacteristically drawn to nature and his now outdated primal instincts. He fills his days with going through the motions and clinging to the one actual friendship he has in the omega Zayn, and when he gets a chance he sneaks away to the edge of their territory to sit with the trees and the wildlife and sketch his favorite part of the river. But what happens when one day he spots the pack alpha, Louis, having an intimate moment with something, or someone, unexpected? Suddenly his quiet, nearly invisible existence gets upended, and secrets he never wanted to know quite literally won't leave him alone, and even when he tries to stay away, he keeps being pulled back into Louis' turbulent orbit. A magical love story featuring a generations long grudge, a menacing curse, and secrets that keep pulling them apart. Will they be able to find a way back to one another through the dark?

Why I Like It: Really integrated plot, soul mates/wolf story. ABO, but more wolf than human. Very involved plot. Well done.

3. Be There by mission2feelike

Niall sits down dramatically, arms flopping to his side before he leans forward and looks right into Harry's eyes. "So, your ex-boyfriend, who broke your heart four years ago, is coming to stay at your house for six weeks? And his daughter, your daughter, is coming to stay tonight?"

Harry nods, worried if he speaks, he'll be yelled at again, but then Niall's face softens, his ever-present smile is back and Harry hears him breathe out a small chuckle. "Okay, for the record, I think this is the worst idea you've ever had, but how can we help?" or The one where their family has been torn apart and their hearts broken, but an accident, a snowstorm, cinnamon rolls, and the adorable Josie force Louis and Harry to finally face the truth, and each other.

Why I Like It: Harry and Louis take custody of Lottie's baby, but Louis breaks H's heart by sending him away. pining. kid fic. Harry is famous. Had some very lovely domestic moments, and some tear jerkers. Louis was a bit of a jerk at the beginning. Side of Ziam.

4. Butterfly Gun by Eravain - no link, this is off AO3, but DM me if you want me to share it with you, as I have a PDF.

Harry has never been much of a fighter, but—as always—where Louis Tomlinson is concerned, a lot of things stop being true. 1940's AU. Even after six years apart, they can't forget their shared wartime childhood.

Why I Like It: I loved this gem--childhood friends to lovers. Historical Fiction. Really well written.

5. Counterbalance by YesIsAWord

Harry Styles loves two things: teaching ballet and racing motorcycles. Those two worlds collide when his greatest rival on the track, Louis "Tommo" Tomlinson brings his tiny siblings to Harry's class.

Why I Like It: Pretty short but very effectively written story. Pacing was good. Loved the dichotomy of Harry as a ballerina and as a motorcycle driver.

6. Danger I Can't Hide by CelticSky

"Don't," Tomlinson's voice was low, gravelled, hiding out in the night where only Styles could hear it. "Stop it. Calm down. You can't do anything." Styles' chest heaved. Tomlinson had him pinned against the wall, his forearm strong against his ribs. The night air crackled around them and all he could hear was the overlap of their breath, desperation, exquisite need and pain and desire and longing and lingering resistance. He couldn't take his eyes from Tomlinson's lips. The way they fell open to expel air against Harry's jaw. His tongue darting out to wet them between desperate words, making them glisten in what little light there was. His eyes were lidded and unseeing as he himself looked down to stare at Styles' mouth. ~~~ Flying Officer Styles and Sergeant Tomlinson would have likely never crossed paths in a time of peace, their ordinary lives laid out neatly, predictably before them. But then the world became unrecognisable. All too soon they grew accustomed to fear, surrounded by death and destruction, not even their very freedom a certainty anymore. Until they found each other. Comfort. Companionship. Understanding. Another person to lose.

Why I Like It: Amazing. Research into WW2 and what it was like to be queer and hiding a relationship. loved the love story, but also the human side of the war. Very well told.

7. Have Love, Will Travel by Kingsofeverything

Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series. It soon becomes obvious to their viewers that there's something more than friendship between them. Eventually, they figure it out.

Why I Like It: super cute. Road Trip Larry. Lots of state parks, travel. Louis has a crush and of course they end up together.

8. Heading for Limbo by KingsofEverything

Childhood best friends who've fallen in and out of touch with each other since Louis' family moved away when they were thirteen, Harry and Louis find their paths crossing again and again. Each time, no matter how many miles apart or how many years it's been, it's as if no time has passed. They fall back into their easy friendship, until life intervenes and sends them on their separate ways once more. When Harry discovers some life-changing things about himself, Louis is there for him, however he needs. But it's all temporary because Louis has plans that will move his life from New York all the way to L.A. and the distance isn't the only thing between them. The pieces of their twice broken hearts are scattered from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

Why I Like It: I really liked this one. Slow burn, friends to not-friends, to lovers, to exes, to lovers. Word of caution, H has a gf for part of it, but it's a really nice slow awakening of his sexuality. TW for some angst/pining.

9. Glass Closets and Greenhouses by TiredTiredTz

Charlton Athletic defender Louis Tomlinson and worldwide sex symbol Harry Styles are rumoured to be hooking up after a viral video filmed at Harry’s Wembley show was posted online by Tommo’s twin sisters. Sources close to the pair tell us the couple have been dating for a while, with rumours of house hunting, marriage and even kids on the cards! Styles, 29, is as well known for his whirlwind love life as his chart-topping music. Most recently linked to British fashion designer Alex Millet-Sloan, Harry has stayed tight-lipped on rumours of any romantic rendezvous between himself and footballer Tomlinson, 31, yet fans online are convinced that all evidence points to #Tomlinstyles being the real deal.

Why I Like It: Could have been longer. A bit over the top meet cute w/ the twins setting them up, but over all well done.

10. It's Fine to Fake it 'Til You Make ('Til It's True) by Sunflouwerhabit

Harry dreads an impending visit to his hometown, where he’ll be forced to reunite with a newly engaged ex-boyfriend, a childhood best friend turned near stranger, and a family who never understood just how desperately he needed to leave. In the midst of it all, a ludicrous Twitter proposition brings him to Louis.

Why I Like It: I loved this one. Super cute characters, a little bit of miscommunication, lovely, lovely boys.

11. Like an Endless Summer by objectlesson - no link, I have this as an epub

Louis is an riding instructor at a summer camp, and Harry is a fellow counselor wh he’s been successfully managing his crush on for the last two years. That is, until Harry shows up this year leveled up and lethal, and all Louis’ formerly perfected veneer of nonchalance melts like a popsicle in the sun.

Why I Like It: absolutely lovely. GREAT depiction of the uncertainty of a crush liking you. slow burn, but you see it coming the whole way.

12. The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by KingsofEverything

Louis' life is steady and calm, moored by his marriage, and tied to his hometown, but after a chance encounter with another man, it'll never be the same.

Why I Like It: really liked this one. TW for cheating. Middle aged man in a loveless marriage realizes he's gay and falls in love with a co-worker. Could totally be a Hallmark movie.

13. Until the Pearls get Lost by LadyLondonderry

London, 1933. Harry Styles, alpha, elusive bachelor and happy third wheel to his coupled friends, receives a visit from one Liam Payne, begging for his help. Liam’s childhood friend Louis is about to become the talk of the city; left at the altar because the mating bond was rejected, Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers. Most omegas with failed bonds are never the same again. With rumours swirling around about the reason for the rejected bond, Harry gives in to Liam’s pleas. He hasn’t the slightest idea how that decision will shape the rest of his life.

Why I Like It: This felt like a fairy tale. Great writing. A bit left to the imagination. Almost werewolf-y.

14. Write This Down by Sunflouwerhabit

"And Louis responds by kissing him. He closes his eyes and presses their lips together and hopes it’s enough to distract from how those words cut and extracted critical pieces of his heart, his soul. Louis kisses Harry to avoid sobbing, yelling, pleading, begging him to never, ever use words like always or never or I promise, because they can’t. They don’t have an always. Nevers will forever remain a mere dream. Time has run out for commitments or oaths or pledges and if Louis is going to be okay- if he’s going to enjoy this time with Harry and then let him go and still feel whole- he can’t let himself start thinking long term. He can’t let this become emotional; something more than silliness and fun and sex. He can’t hear Harry say he’s proud of him when he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see him again after this week. 'I miss you,' Harry murmurs, his breaths warm and equally shaky. 'All the time.' Louis kisses him harder."

Why I Like It: I really loved this contemporary romance. Lots of angst, boys being stupid thinking they are protecting each other by not communicating. But ultimately a lovely story. New favorite.

#fanfic #fic recommendation

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thegigilwriter · 16 days

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01 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary: 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Romance, Inaccuracies of the Navy and Marine Biology

01 | Koi No Yokan 🎐

1 year after Top Gun: Maverick

Sunday May 28, 2023

Bradley

It was a sunny mid-morning in San Diego, and Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace were taking the Bronco for a drive down a palm-adorned boulevard.

“Thanks again Rooster,ˮ Nat grinned as she basked in the daylight of the open air. “SʼAlways nice takinʼ a ride in the olʼ girl.ˮ

“Quiet now,ˮ Bradley replied, mocking hurt. “Sheʼll hear you, you know?ˮ

Nat rolled her eyes playfully, untucking her shades from the hem of her tank top and covering her eyes. Seagulls flew overhead, the taste of salt was in the atmosphere, and a lovely shade of blue began to appear on their horizon. Bradley licked his lips and stepped on the accelerator. He reminisced to himself about the beaches in Okinawa from his previous deployment. Sure, they were great but there is something about the California coastline you canʼt just feel the same way about anywhere else.

“You arrived at your destination,ˮ Google announced. “The Umi Research Center. ˮ A crystal dome came into view and steadily emerged as this enormous limestone edifice that was akin to the Parthenon.

Bradley pulled up by the docks and Nat jumped out as soon as the Bronco was in park.

“Wanna come with?ˮ She asked him.

“Iʼll stay put,ˮ Bradley reclined his seat. “Unless this Sam guy, needs to be forcibly removed from the premises?ˮ

“Well in that case, I can handle it myself, canʼt I?ˮ

Bradley turned on the radio and tugged at his Hawaiin-print shirt to fan himself. He watched as Natʼs figure disappeared into the entrance of the building. His attention was then directed towards the sea and the pristine boats that thudded against the docks. Natʼs own sedan was in the shop, so she called in a favor from Bradley to borrow his Bronco. Since there was no way her wheel was to be steered by any other set of hands other than his, Bradley opted to be a personal chauffeur to Nat and her first cousin, Sam, for the day.

The heat of the sun was beginning to wear down Bradley, so he took his keys from the ignition and hopped out for a quick walk on the dock. The cool sea breeze helped soothe the sunʼs scalding presence. It was on days like this when his parents used to take him to the beach as a little boy. But thatʼs all what those moments are now—memories. He stopped to stare at the water. A lot of people like to say he looked a lot like his father, and he agrees. But on some days, it feels like the man staring right back at him was a stranger.

Thud.

Bradley felt something collide against his back, and heard a clatter of things falling against the wooden walkway and a small gasp. He quickly turned around and beheld two boxes filled with audio tapes and folders tipped on their sides, and beside them, a young woman rose to her feet.

“I apologize,ˮ she breathed out as her frame got on her knees and began to return the contents to her boxes. “Iʼm afraid I wasnʼt watching where I was going...ˮ

She was wearing a navy-colored bathing suit underneath a white, fitted, cropped tee-shirt, and a sheer floral shawl tied around her waist. Her feet were clad in copper-colored slippers, her wrists were adorned with braided bracelets, her right ankle with a dainty metal chain, and her neck with a cross underneath a string of little, iridescent pearls. Bradley did not even realize he was on his knees with a tape in his hand, for his eyes simply could not part from her face. Mahogany waves framed her lovely visage and her dark-caramel eyes were cast to the floor beneath them.

“Um... do you mind?ˮ She smiled kindly at him.

“Huh?ˮ

“The tape — in your hand,ˮ she pointed.

“Oh — uh... Sorry,ˮ Bradley scratched the nape of his neck as he reached the tape over to her. Their fingers met and so did their gazes. Bradley chuckled and she shyly looked away.

“Again,ˮ she spoke, as she put one box on top of the other. “I apologize.ˮ

“None needed,ˮ Bradley finally collected himself. “Those look quite heavy, need a hand?ˮ

“If you donʼt mind, please.ˮ She sighed. Bradley eagerly lifted the boxes in his arms.

“Lead the way,ˮ he grinned.

“Thank you,ˮ she replied as they proceeded to cross the dock towards the research center.

“I donʼt recall seeing you around here,ˮ the woman stranger spoke. “Are you new?ˮ

“Nah, Iʼm here with a friend whoʼs picking up a cousin who works here. Apparently, he just came from Antartica.ˮ

“How intersting,ˮ she mused. “I was just stationed there.ˮ

“Youʼre a researcher?ˮ Bradley raised a brow.

“You seem amused.ˮ

“I didnʼt mean to—“ Bradley blushed.

Her laugh resonated, it was as clear as a spring and as sweet as her eyes. It was the kind of sound you wanted to play on repeat.

“I was simply kidding. I know fairly well the distresses of a woman in a man's world... I just choose to make the most fun I can out of it.ˮ

Bradley chuckled.

“You make ‘em underestimate you, then you pull the ground from under their feet like a riptide.ˮ

She looked at him with great consideration.

“You just see right through me, donʼt you?ˮ she teased.

“I think you did, otherwise we wouldnʼt be talking right now. Which would be unfortunate, of course.ˮ

She laughed once more, and Bradley smiled as they stepped into the marble-floored foyer after a swipe of her card at the door. For a research center, this was far grander than Bradley had imagined from the outside looking in. Tall, corinthian, columns lined the limestone walls on either side. In every space, oil paintings of founders with solemn and peaceful expressions resided there. The glass dome above filtered the sun rays into iridescent shards of light that danced on the cylindrical and tremendous aquarium in the center of the room. It housed vibrant schools of reef fish and brilliant coral, all so dramatically composed to evoke in every beholder pure awe. Bradley whistled, head tilted skywards with a gaping mouth.

“Glorious, isnʼt it?ˮ She chuckled at his expression. “Wait ‘til we really get inside.ˮ

Bradley trailed behind her as they crossed the foyer and climbed up the steps just a little bit past the elevators. The space alone was fit to be a ballroom for a grand royal celebration. Shelves and shelves of books lined the limestone curved against concave walls except in the very middle where a tall, rectangular window allowed a picturesque view of the ocean. In the center of the circular facility, a behemoth, holographic globe floated above a ring of conjoined computers. The remaining space was lined with bench tables and plush chairs.

“Welcome to Umi,ˮ The woman stranger smiled.

“The lights on the globe,ˮ Bradley asked her. “Are those your other branches?ˮ

“Every light represents a team of researchers from all divisions, all around the world.“

“Impressive,ˮ Bradley nodded.

“Umi is that and everything else,ˮ She sighed, as she turned towards the elevators.

“You must love working here with that shine of yours and all,ˮ He mused as they waited for a lift up.

“I do,ˮ she replied passionately. “The sea is my first love.ˮ The elevator doors parted open and Bradley followed her in.

“Do you have anything youʼre passionate about, Mr.—?ˮ She spoke to him. “Iʼm sorry I should have asked for your name—“

“Itʼs Bradley, Bradley Bradshaw. And if I may know yours?”

“Lucy,ˮ the woman smiled at him. “Lucy Mitchell.ˮ

“Lucy,ˮ Bradley repeated. “Like light.ˮ

“What?ˮ

“Thatʼs what your name means,ˮ he told her. “Explains the shine.ˮ

“Do you know the meaning of the names of every woman you meet, Mr. Bradshaw?ˮ Lucy raised a brow playfully. “I hate to admit how clever that is of a way to disarm any of us women.ˮ

“Oh yeah,ˮ Bradley played along. “I read about one name every day from my dictionary, yours just happened to pop up recently.ˮ

“Is that so?ˮ She chuckled. “Then I should warn the others, ‘There is a serial flatterer on the loose with an intent to charm!ʼ“

Bradley laughed.

“Iʼm surprised Iʼve kept up a conversation with you this long at all, to be honest.ˮ

“Now what makes you say that?ˮ Lucy cocked her head to the side.

Bradley wanted to say it was because Lucy Mitchell was beautiful and smart and young and hilarious and sophisticated despite the casual comfort her disposition exuded. That Bradley was old and truly awkward when it came to the really pretty girls that make him laugh. How he desired to so effortlessly make her know that she had a slot in his schedule for a dinner with him. Yes she was a stranger, but this entire interaction surely trumped any small talk he had over the previous online dates he set up and the lonesome evenings at the bar bench when women sauntered over to him to have a little fun for the night

Get off your perch and take the fucking shot, Rooster! He could hear Jake Seresin ringing in his ears.

“Lucy—“

“Lucy!ˮ

The elevator doors parted ajar once more, and in front of them, Nat and her cousin Sam were.

“What are you still doing here?ˮ Sam asked her as they stepped off the lift.

“I just remembered that we left some material on deck,ˮ Lucy replied as she gestured towards Bradley. “And this gentleman is helping me get them to my office.ˮ

“Gentleman, huh?ˮ Nat smirked as she leaned her elbow against Samʼs shoulder. She reached out her hand to Lucy.

“Nice to meet ya, the nameʼs Natasha Trace, but itʼs Nat for everybody.ˮ Lucy shook her hand.

“Likewise. Iʼm Lucy, Lucy Mitchell.ˮ

“I see youʼve already met my friend, Lieutenant Bradley,ˮ Nat had a Cheshire grin stretching across her face. Beyond Lucyʼs periphery, Bradley directed Nat a stern look. Nat quickly cocked her head towards Lucy.

“Sheʼs cute,ˮ she mouthed at him. Bradley raised his eyebrows in agreement.

“You must be Samʼs cousin,ˮ Lucy smiled at her. “He talks a lot about you.ˮ

“Aw, Sam!ˮ Nat cooed as she tucked her cousin under her arm and affectionally rubbed his hair. “My little cousin misses me that much?ˮ

“Only how annoying you are!ˮ Sam groaned. He was a young-looking fellow despite his age, a 23-year-old new grad looking like he just celebrated his 16th birthday. He was tall, lanky, and freckled. His dark and bold features are similar to Natʼs, but Sam’s looked a little softer around the edges, like a muted color compared to Natʼs natural exuberance.

“You—ugh.ˮ Sam struggled against Nat. “Must be Bradley, right?ˮ

“Nice to meet ya,ˮ Bradley confirmed.

“Donʼt let Lucy take those to her office,ˮ Sam finally escaped from Natʼs grasp. “Sheʼs been working non-stop in the expedition and I've been given strict orders that she shouldnʼt be here until next week.ˮ

“Oh come on, Sam!ˮ Lucy whined. “These are the mourning recordings! Weʼve never seen them sing like this! If Foster asks, just say I wasnʼt here!ˮ

“Sheʼll have my ass, that woman!ˮ Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Lucy, go home. Compression Sickness is no light matter. Youʼre still recoveri—! You literally just went for a dive, did you?ˮ

“Perhaps,ˮ She replied nonchalantly. Sam groaned.

“Workaholic, huh?ˮ Nat remarked. “Listen, why donʼt you come out with us? Weʼre hitting the Pier today and catching a movie later. That way, Samʼs ass isnʼt grounded and I get a new girlfriend. Iʼm sure Rooster wonʼt mind, do you Rooster?ˮ

Natasha grinned at him smugly, as Lucy chuckled. They were both resigned to Natʼs insistence.

“Of course not,ˮ Bradley replied.

“That settles it,ˮ Nat smiled. “Meet us in the foyer.ˮ

They exchanged places, Nat and Sam towards the lifts and Bradley and Lucy towards the offices. As the doors closed, Natasha sneaked a quick wink in Bradleyʼs direction. In addition to that, her signature, ‘donʼt screw it upʼ look.

“I'm sorry about her,ˮ Bradley spoke as they walked the sun-lit hallways together towards her office. “She doesnʼt get to meet a lot of women in our line of work, and when she does theyʼre often not nice.ˮ

“I think your girlfriendʼs sweet,ˮ Lucy replied. “Sam thinks really highly of—“

“Sheʼs not my girlfriend,ˮ Bradley interjected.

“Oh,ˮ she closed her eyes briefly and shaking her head. “Iʼm sorry, I shouldnʼt have assumed. The both of you just seemed really comfortable with each other.ˮ

“Yeah we get that a lot,ˮ Bradley sighed, a wave of embarrassment washing over him at his premature response. “Sheʼs one of my best friends, thatʼs all. Weʼve known each other for over 15 years.ˮ

“Are you a naval aviator, yourself?ˮ

Lucy noted the swell in his chest and the small proud smirk that settled on his lips. “That I am.ˮ

They finally arrived at the office and Lucy promptly turned her key in the lock. The translucent door swung open and she quickly gestured towards the side of her desk where Bradley deposited the boxes.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.ˮ Lucy smiled.

“At your service,ˮ Bradley replied. As he bent down, she noticed a small, transverse cut in the inside of his left bicep. He was carrying them for much longer than she had anticipated and the upper corner of the top box must have done it. She opened the top cabinet on her table and retrieved a small metal box with a biscuit label.

“Those look good,ˮ Bradley remarked.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant,ˮ Lucy laughed. “Iʼve already ate them all. You cut your arm, by the way.ˮ

“Oh would you look at that,ˮ he mused at the prickle of blood that began to emit. “The horror.ˮ

Lucy laughed again.

“Now, now,ˮ she played along as she ripped an antiseptic wipe open from its paper container. “This will all be over soon.ˮ

She pressed the wipe into his bicep. Her hands were dainty and soft and cool against his skin. He watched her eyebrows furrow just a little as she encountered a little resistance from placing a bandaid decorated with small, little fish— and regarded the way her tongue would poke from her lips. Bradley felt a searing heat in his chest and her touch had become so much more apparent to his senses.

“There we go,ˮ Lucy chuckled. “Crisis averted.ˮ Not quite, Bradley thought. Not quite.

A silence fell between them from the moment they left Lucyʼs office; to the moment Natasha elbowed Sam into the back seat with her (even though Sam wanted to call shotgun, but was then dismissed as Nat was playing wingman); to the moment they placed their orders at a nearby Shake Shack; to the moment they sat side by side through two movies at the theatre; and until now as they watched Sam and Nat board the Devilʼs Drop at Ruby Pier. It wasnʼt the awkward, painful kind of silence that say two middle school sweethearts would experience at a secret, last-minute first date as one or other try to make the first move. It was peculiar kind that was quite comforting.

Lucy tugged Bradleyʼs sleeve. He turned to her, very much endeared by this gesture.

“Wanna take a walk?ˮ She suggested.

“Might as well,ˮ he agreed. “Phoenix is an adrenaline junkie, sheʼs gonna try a couple of those kind of rides before sheʼs done.ˮ

“I feel bad leaving Sam,ˮ she frowned. “Heʼs terrified of dives, let alone those rides.ˮ

“I donʼt,ˮ Bradley kidded. “I get you all to myself.ˮ Lucy chuckled.

“Iʼm afraid I donʼt have a lot to offer with my companionship, Lieutenant, but I think those girls do.ˮ She cocked her head towards a herd of girls giggling in Bradleyʼs direction as they stared at him with glinting eyes.

“I gotta say,ˮ Bradley drawled. “Iʼm a bit offended that you think of me that way.ˮ

“How so?ˮ Lucy challenged with a smile.

“I think I can tell for myself the sort of woman I find interesting, little lady.ˮ

“And you happen to find me interesting?ˮ Lucy laughed.

“Very much so.ˮ

They stopped at a saltwater taffy stall as they began to cross the boardwalk. It was by far the grandest saltwater taffy stall on the Pier, decorated with exuberant colors and classy old-time fonts. The vendor was a short, Asian man in what appears to be his 50s, with smile lines and youthful eyes. His skin was the color of chocolate milk and his eyes were piercingly gray.

“Hello Manong,ˮ Lucy grinned at him.

The old manʼs eyes did not shift, but his lips broke into a great smile.

“Lucy!ˮ He exclaimed in a coarse voice. “How are you? Where have you been, silly girl?ˮ His English was perfectly American, but it did betray some intonations of his own mother tongue. Bradley watched as Lucy reached out her palm to his and pressed his knuckle against her forehead.

“Iʼve been well,ˮ she smiled. “I just arrived home today. Where is Victor? Have you been here all day?ˮ

“Now donʼt you worry sweet girl, I just came here for a short shift. Victor is at the hospital with Sherry. I think theyʼre going to have their third kid. His sisterʼs gonna pick me up in an hour.ˮ

“Itʼs the third one already?ˮ

“I know, Iʼm getting old!ˮ He raised his hands laughing as he proceeded to pack a bag for Lucy, working skillful behind the counter. “Youʼll have the usual one, yes? Now whatʼll your friend be having?ˮ

Bradley without having uttered a single word yet, stared at him. “Well, young man?ˮ

“Iʼll have the caramel swirls with raspberries please,ˮ Bradley replied. The old man chuckled as he got to work.

“This your girl?ˮ

“Manong!ˮ Lucy scolded, a blush quickly staining her cheeks.

“I tell you now that sheʼs a keeper!ˮ He laughed as he handed them their taffy. Bradley was ready to swipe his card, when the old man shook his head.

“On the house for sweet Lucy and her new friend!ˮ He said cheerily.

“Thank you Manong,ˮ Lucy smiled. “Youʼre a gem!ˮ

The old man waved at them as they walked farther down the boardwalk. Lucy gently opened her taffy, inhaling its delicious strawberry and vanilla fragrance before enjoying a pair of them. Bradley followed suit.

“That man was blind, wasnʼt he?ˮ Bradley asked her. Lucy nodded.

“Itʼs not just because of his age. His eyesight just suddenly began deteriorating,ˮ she explained. “His family is one of the oldest saltwater taffy makers in California. Victor is his eldest, and took over when his vision got worse.ˮ

“Iʼd say that heʼs one of the most clear-sighted people I ever met,ˮ Bradley said.

“I agree,ˮ she chewed on a vanilla taffy and covered her mouth as she spoke. “I didnʼt think he could tell that you were even there, much less a man. But he probably should never drive a plane, donʼt you think?ˮ

“Absolutely not,ˮ Bradley laughed. “But he did prove you wrong.ˮ Lucy gazed at him.

“That you, Lucy Mitchell, are indeed interesting.ˮ

They arrived at the near end of the boardwalk in silence. Lucy leaned against the railing, staring out into the ocean. The shards of rich light from the opalescent sky above glimmered all around them, and Bradley saw them dance in the irises of her eyes. Her tongue poked out from her smooth lips just as he had seen this morning. Her hair, like the sea before them, trembled at the wind. Then her gaze finally met his.

“I would say the same Lieutenant,ˮ she said to him. “If you spoke truthfully.ˮ

Bradley did not speak. There was a seriousness in the way she looked at him. He would wait for his turn.

“I am not a fickle woman or one who is easily flattered,ˮ she whispered. “But your words today meant greatly to me, and I canʼt help but think of your intentions. You say that Iʼm a riptide. That my passion shines through. Then you say that I am unexpectedly easy to talk to, and now you say that Iʼm interesting. But you’ve only just met me…”

“I donʼt want to you to misconstrue my intentions or yours, Lieutenant,ˮ she spoke bravely. “And I donʼt want to get my hopes up. But aside from all the things youʼve learned about me today, there is something else you should now... “

“Iʼm not one for casual relations. If someone must have me, then he must earn me first.ˮ

Lucy had fired the first shot.

At Natʼs insistence, she persuaded Lucy to let Bradley take her home instead of the taffy-manʼs daughter. To be fair, it was not too far from her apartment and the fact that Bradley got seven more minutes with Lucy was a bonus on account of Natʼs wingman game. She gave a thumbs up to Bradley before assisting a nauseated Sam from the backseat of the Bronco. Lucy and Bradley were once more enveloped in silence, but it was not as comfortable as it had been during their day out together.

“Hereʼs me,ˮ Lucy told him, hopping out of the Bronco.

Bradley turned the ignition off and walked her to the gate of her quaint, little apartment complex. Three rusty-colored brick buildings surrounded a small courtyard with flower gardens and a concrete fountain with small koi.

“I guess this is it,ˮ Lucy smiled. “It was nice meeting you, Lieutenant. Thank you for the ride home.ˮ

As she turned towards the gate to unlock it, all Bradley could think about was the shots he was too reluctant to take — both in the air and his life. So in that moment, in the crimson light of dusk, his fingers instinctively bound themselves around her wrist. She looked at him in surprise, her sweet, caramel eyes glowing in the sunset.

“This morning you asked me what I was passionate about,ˮ he told her. “Even if I did have the time to answer, I wouldnʼt have known what to say to you because as much as I love to fly and...play music—I donʼt— I donʼt think thereʼs anything I love like how you love the sea. I havenʼt found it yet. A-Anyways, Iʼm probably talking stupid right now, but all Iʼm trying to say is... do you want to help me find out?ˮ

“What?ˮ Lucy uttered in a small voice, stunned.

Bradley tried breathing, but suddenly found it very hard to with the thunderous beating in his chest.

“Will you, Lucy Mitchell, go on an official date with me?ˮ

Her silence made him quiver. Despite how clear her gaze was, there was no telling of the tumultuous thoughts that ran behind it.

“Is it because you felt bad for me? For what I said at the Pier?ˮ Lucy asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Not at all,ˮ Bradley insisted. “If anything, it just made my intentions for you clearer.ˮ

“I date to marry Lieutenant and I donʼt settle for less,ˮ she told him firmly.

“Is that supposed to scare me?ˮ

Lucy gazed at him considerably before speaking.

“Is this Saturday okay for you?ˮ

“You can have me by tomorrow,ˮ Bradley grinned.

“Wow Lieutenant,ˮ she chuckled. “Donʼt you think this is going a little too fast?ˮ

“Iʼm a pilot,ˮ he smirked. “Iʼm basically supersonic.ˮ

God, he loved the way she hid her giggles behind her dainty fingers.

“Alright then,ˮ Lucy spoke. “Tomorrow at 1400, come pick me up. Weʼll go to Sitaʼs on Newport Avenue at Ocean Beach and go from there.ˮ

“Itʼs a date,ˮ Bradley smiled.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.ˮ

“Itʼs Bradley, for you.ˮ

“Goodnight, Rooster.ˮ

Bradley laughed again.

“Goodnight, Angel.ˮ

Fun Fact! “Koi no Yokan” is a Japanese saying, which means love at second sight. It is described as a feeling of inevitably falling for someone. Jump to their first date at 02 | Halo-Halos by Beach! DM to be tagged!

#rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction

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mojowitchcraft · 1 year

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Fave WIP Round-Up [Part 2]

Posted a list of my fave WIPs last night and realized I missed some, so here's Part 2 of my fave WIPs! Find the rest of my WIP Recs here

is your light on? by @toburnup Rated E | Chapters: 17/20 | Words: 196k

"Tell me a secret." Steve says and Eddie shakes his head. "Why would I do that?" "I'll tell you one." Eddie looks intrigued, smirks in his direction. "A secret for a secret? Okay." He looks up. "You go first." (Steve always noticed Eddie. He's been there on the peripheral, easy enough to ignore. Until he's standing right in front of him, unavoidable. And then they collide over, and over, and over)

Tell Me "Don't", So I Can Crawl Back In by kiaramgrey Rated E | Chapters: 8/? | Words: 43k

When Steve finds himself alone and without friends, following his breakup with Nancy, he decides what he needs is a distraction. Maybe some new friends who don't remind him of the bullshit life he gave up. When he literally runs into Eddie Munson, school drug dealer and self proclaimed freak, an idea begins to form. Who better to show him what life outside popularity can be like, than someone who doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks? And Eddie? Well, Eddie is just bracing for impact.

Reboot by @plutosrose [Now Complete] Rated E | Chapters: 10/10 | Words: 38k

In 2012, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson film a scene in the teen drama Normal Stuff that launches a popular ship on ao3. By early 2013, they aren't speaking anymore. In 2024, Robin calls Steve with an offer to reprise his role as Andy Hartley in a reboot of their old show, with one important update--his character gets together with Eddie's.

Lesson/Plan by @2btheanswertothequestion Rated M | Chapters: 3/5 | Words: 7k

Eddie huffs. "I'm already 20 fucking years old. I don't want to wait any longer. I want to experience all the shit everyone else already has now." "Everyone hasn't-" "Steve, the 15-year-olds currently in this house have seen more action than I have." "All right, okay, I hear you. We'll solve it for you." "How." "Well," Steve's tongue darts out to wet his lips, "if you just want to get it over with, then... I could kiss you?" Eddie's never been kissed, so Steve offers to teach him. And then he teaches him some more, and some more, and some more.

Sleight of Hand by @flieslikeamoron Rated E | Chapters: 17/19 | Words: 125k

Steve needs a weed dealer. He gets a bit more than that. (This is an AU set a couple months after the Snow Ball in season 2.)

PTA Shouldn't Stand for Pretty Tight Ass by @humanityinahandbag & Invader_Sam | Rated M | Chapters: 14/? | Words 51k

Steve Harrington - ex local legend and fearsome bully, now single father of two - returns to Hawkins after the world spit him out. With a messy life to sort through, all he wanted was settle down and get his kids through seventh grade without any surprises. Cue Mr. Eddie Munson, ex victim of one Steve Harrington, now Hawkins Middle School's favorite music teacher. Or: What happens when your former high school bully raises two absolute nerds, joins the PTA, helps run the bake sale, makes the best cupcakes in Indiana, and may or may not be having a bisexual crisis.

Some Cupids Kill With Dice by @hawkinsheroes Rated M | Chapters: 14/? | Words: 109k

Steve Harrington doesn't have time to date. In fact, between working multiple part-time jobs and raising two rambunctious and poorly-behaved preteens, he doesn't have time for much of anything. And it's fine. He's fine. He's having an absolutely awesome time slinging ice cream, sorting DVDs, and dodging questions from his friends and family about his love life. That is, of course, until the twins come to him with a simple request: go to Parents Night and sign them up for Mr. Munson's Dungeons and Dragons club. Or, the one where Steve is a tired and overworked DILF who may or may not be smitten with his kids' seventh grade English teacher. Featuring: busted old Hondas, milkshakes as an intricate mating ritual, twelve year-old wingmen, and the worst flirting you've ever seen in your life.

breathe out (so i can breathe you in) by @bttmbunk Rated E | Chapters: 11/12 | Words: 91k

“You thinking of getting it for yourself?” The man continues, eyebrows raised, and that’s when Steve realises he’s just been staring, practically drooling over this stranger who's decided to strike up a conversation about a guitar. A part of him wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “Oh, uh, no, actually.” He says, “It’s for my daughter.” Something indecipherable flickers across the man’s face, there and gone again in an instant, “How sweet.” “I don’t know what I’m looking for,” he admits, a little sheepish, “I’m not a musician, so…” he shrugs, “I have no way of knowing if this is a good guitar or not.” There’s a hint of amusement in the man’s eyes as his mouth tilts into a more crooked grin, “Well, lucky for you, I can help.” In one fluid motion, the man drops himself into a sweeping, dramatic bow. The suddenness of it startles a laugh out of Steve. “Eddie Munson, guitarist, musician extraordinaire - at your service.” His energy is infectious - Steve finds that he’s grinning, “Uh, Steve Harrington. Basketball coach, dad,” He tries to think of another good descriptor, but comes up short, “Totally at a loss, here.”

Trouble Looks Good On You by @steddielations Rated E | Chapters: 3/5 | Words: 35k

It happens like a fever dream. The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, it’s obviously just an old jock habit that’s stuck with him. It wasn’t meant to have Eddie’s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harrington’s hand, or— Nope, because Eddie’s not even into that. But then, it happens again. Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddie’s new kinks.

for this gift, I do feel blessed @wheatisstillwheat [Now Complete] Rated E | Chapters: 19/19 | Words: 96k

Steve was supposed to be in Berlin with his best friend Robin, not wandering around looking for a coffee shop, not speaking a lick of German. Steve definitely wasn't supposed to take the only open seat next to a beautiful, mysterious (sexy), and slightly pissed stranger at said coffee shop who cannot believe Steve wasn't angling for an autograph from him, which Steve definitely isn't, because Steve has no idea who he is...yet. (OR Rock Star AU - in which Eddie Munson is a famous grunge/alt/metal band frontman and Steve is as clueless as we'd all expect. hi-jinx and love ensue.)

Edited May 7 to update chapter & word counts Edited May 26 to note completed fics Edited Aug 3 to update chapter & word counts

#WIP RECS #STEDDIE FIC RECS #STEDDIE FIC REC #STEDDIE WIP #STRANGER THINGS #STRANGER THINGS FIC REC #STEVE HARRINGTON #EDDIE MUNSON #STEDDIE #PUBLICLY OUTING MYSELF AS A SIMP FOR ALL THESE WRITERS #mojowitchcraft wip recs

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ashwithapen · 9 months

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dissociative disorder? uh yeah, i sure hope it does

and so suddenly, it's just me here. the bright, life-filled wonder i lived within for just a day has faded out with the music and so suddenly, it's just me here.

today is wednesday august 30th and i have school in two days. i turn an adult in a little less than five months and still don't feel so much older than 14. i'm still a kid with a keyboard clacking beneath their fingers, painting a dimmed screen with miserable lines of text. i'm still a kid so full of fantasy that when my unfiltered joy is met with the expectations of my age i crumple from the bottom up and top down in one breath, debris colliding at my heart where a fire is doused.

whose skin is this, pinched questioningly between foreign fingers? whose neck is bleeding from a sharp hangnail and whose scalp is stale and parched for shampoo? who is popping their joins in the middle of the witching hours, the sound ever so distant?

a laugh track plays on repeat behind my staggered breaths: one too shallow and the next too deep and so on, a group of the most mindless trying to perform the dance of life and keep the oxygen moving. i hear her laughing, 14, and i pity her and her rainbow drawings, waxed into the in-between pages of a forgotten notebook. she isn't going to college. the only future she has will also be waxed into the in-between pages, breathing that sweet summer oxygen only every other moment, like my staggered breaths: one too short and the next even shorter and so on until some end comes of it.

the cogs and whatnots keep the fan turning up there on the pitched ceiling, every part of it so old and scary that the child of the forest is resigned to crying yet again into a pair of unnamed arms. a creak and a crick and a squeal and a swill and a dip and with a yell the whole ceiling comes down and sends baby right back where she left.

and oh we are hungry, starving, gnashing our teeth at every flash of fresh meat, starving. wet dog on the porch, half-blind, twice my size, and he is starving. a hand misses his teeth by accident, its fingers young and untrained. the watcher prays this is not another falsehood of its memory. when the child pets the starving dog, everything stills, and then she laughs. and then the ceiling comes down, and the porch is made wider, and the rain meets skin, and there are two wet dogs, starving.

and so suddenly, so shortly, so quickly, with the same fading of the music, the same clacking of the keys, the same fan and same dog and same me, it appears that i am alone. here, in the dark where both the world sleeps, i find the waning of noir in its countless hues to be it all. so many memories, so many scared faces stuck in a game where everyone is unsure just how long they've been playing. the world could end and who's to say the turns wouldn't keep coming and going so cyclically, one day so bright and the next so dull and the whole thing just one digit different in an expanse of noir, something so vast that these precious words in between are born to be forgotten—you find comfort in that: that even your words exist on borrowed consciousness.

and to just keep going, drawing a word and another and so on how you just love to, repeating yourself on that borrowed consciousness, repeating yourself because you are only yourself, repeating yourself, repeating, repeating, repeating, into noir again.

have you ever been in love?

i don't think i have, not really.

i think words like "i love him" or "i love her" or "i love you" and i never say them, because that would be too far. i mean them how they mean to me, in that indescribable way. i don't say them because you won't know love how i have come to, and so those three words will sound different when they leave my lips and fall to your ears. do not mistake my loving you for me being in love. i love you, plain and simple, and it's a thing of honour to look no further into it. in my own way, in my own space, on my own terms, i love you.

soft. oh to be held so softly. unnamed arms cradling so close, light brown hair, and a deep, warm voice.

i can nearly see you, but you just won't show me your face. i could just call out to you, but alas, you are ever so unnamed.

i stare at the woods, cold and dark and creeping, and i mouth the words "thank you". i see the demoness, i see her glowing eyes, i see her flowing robes, i see her antlers. i hope your house is warm, wherever exactly it is. i hope she eats well and isn't afraid to cling to your arm or laugh as loud as her little lungs allow. she never got what she deserved. please. give her what she deserves.

#ash writes #life writing #drabbles #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writers and poets #writerscommunity #poetsandwriters #dissociative system #actually dissociative #osddid #did osdd #osdd system #osdd #osdd 1b

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godsfavdarling · 3 months

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13 bridging worlds

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!oc

summary: Brittany properly meets Spencer's old team.

list of chapters, also available on wattpad and Ao3, my masterlist

warnings: none

words: 1,8k

a/n: i don't hate jj! i hate jj post the finale of season 14.

Brittany briskly made her way through the bustling hallways of the university, her mind preoccupied with the day's tasks. Lost in thought, she nearly collided with a tall man and a vibrant blonde woman standing in the middle of the corridor.

As she approached them, a sense of familiarity washed over her.

"Hey there," Brittany said with a smile, recognizing them from that memorable night at the bar with Spencer. "You two look lost. And I remember you! Are you looking for Spencer by any chance?"

The man scratched his head, looking sheepish. "Yeah, we're supposed to meet him." His grin widened as he recognized her. "You're Spencer's girlfriend, right?"

“Umm… yeah. How do you…”

He nodded, his smile warm and understanding. "Yeah… Spencer talks about you all the time. He's head over heels for you, you know. By the way, I’m Derek Morgan, and this is Penelope Garcia," Derek said, gesturing to the blonde woman beside him. “I don’t think we’ve officially met yet.”

"Nice to meet you both," Brittany replied, extending her hand for a handshake. "I'm Brittany."

"It's a pleasure," Penelope chimed in, shaking Brittany's hand enthusiastically.

“Sooo… what is he saying about me?” Brittany inquired with a hint of curiosity.

Garcia and Derek chuckled. “Good stuff only, don’t worry,” Garcia said.

“Well… I hope so. Anyway, umm… let me take you to his office. He just got one of his own."

With Brittany leading the way, they navigated the labyrinthine halls until they reached Spencer's office. She pushed the door open, revealing a tidy room filled with books and papers.

"Here we are," Brittany announced, gesturing inside.

As they stepped inside, Spencer emerged from around the corner, looking relieved after his classes. His face lit up as he saw Brittany and their guests.

"Hey, you made it!" Spencer exclaimed, greeting Derek and the blonde woman warmly.

Derek chuckled, "Yeah, your pretty girl here helped us."

Brittany felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at Derek’s words, but she smiled nonetheless.

"Always happy to help," she said with a grin. “Anyway, it was great to meet you! See you later, Spence! I have to get going.”

As Brittany bid her farewells and left Spencer's office, she couldn't shake off the unexpected encounter with Derek and Penelope.

The revelation that Spencer had been talking about her to his friends left her feeling both touched and, truth be told, a little smug. She pondered over what exactly Spencer might have shared with them about their relationship.

Walking through the corridors of the university, Brittany found herself lost in thought, her mind swirling with a mixture of satisfaction and curiosity.

She couldn't deny the warmth she felt knowing that Spencer held her in such high regard, and it couldn't help but boost her ego a little. After all, who wouldn't be flattered to be the topic of conversation?

Brittany's steps became a little lighter as she allowed herself to bask in the glow of Spencer's admiration.

While a part of her felt a twinge of vulnerability at the idea of his friends knowing stuff about her, another part reveled in the attention and validation it brought. After all, if Spencer thought she was worth talking about, then she must be doing something right.

Whatever Spencer had shared with Derek and Penelope about their relationship - she was more than eager to find out.

------------------------------------------------

Brittany and Spencer settled into his cozy apartment later that evening. They sat together on the comfortable couch, sipping on mugs of hot tea as the soft glow of lamplight filled the room.

Brittany couldn't shake off the lingering curiosity from her encounter with Derek and Penelope earlier in the day. Finally unable to contain her intrigue any longer, she turned to Spencer with a playful smile.

"So, Spencer," she began, her tone light but tinged with curiosity. "What exactly were you saying about me to your friends?"

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly at the question, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Ah, well, you know... just good things, really."

Brittany raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, just good things, huh? Care to elaborate?"

Spencer chuckled nervously, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Well, I might have mentioned how amazing you are and how much I enjoy… spending time with you."

Brittany couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth at Spencer's words. "Really? You said that? What else?"

Spencer nodded earnestly, his gaze softening as he looked into her eyes. "Nothing else and of course! You mean a lot to me. I wanted my friends to know about you and just how… special you are."

Brittany felt her heart swell with affection at Spencer's sincerity. She reached out to gently squeeze his hand, a soft smile gracing her lips.

Spencer's expression brightened with an idea. "You know, I was thinking... Maybe one day we could all hang out together. I'd like to introduce you to everyone. My team. Well people who used to be my team…What do you think?"

Brittany's eyes widened in surprise at Spencer's suggestion, but she couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement at the prospect. "Sure! I'd love to get to know your friends.

—-----------------------------------

As the evening approached, Brittany found herself standing in front of her closet, deliberating over what to wear for dinner with Spencer's old team.

After much contemplation, she settled on a stunning ensemble that exuded both elegance and allure—a high slit corset dress with ruched straps with lace ruffle trim details. With its boned corset and satin lining, coupled with its monowire at the bust, Brittany knew she would turn heads in this luxurious, show-stopping dress.

With her hair cascading down in soft waves and a bold swipe of red lipstick adorning her lips, Brittany exuded an air of confidence and allure as she entered the restaurant, ready to make a lasting impression on Spencer's old team.

When he arrived to pick her up, his eyes widened in admiration as he took in her breathtaking appearance. "Wow, Brittany," he breathed, his voice filled with awe. "You look absolutely stunning."

A radiant smile graced Brittany's lips as she twirled in front of him, the fabric of her dress swirling around her. "Thank you!" she said, her voice tinged with excitement. "I wanted to make a good impression on your friends!"

With Spencer by her side, Brittany felt a surge of confidence as they made their way to the restaurant where dinner was to be held.

As they entered, Brittany's eyes swept over the familiar faces of Derek and Garcia. She finally introduces herself properly to Emily, Rossi, JJ, Luke, and Tara. She offered each of them a warm smile, feeling a sense of anticipation building within her.

Throughout the evening, Brittany found herself engaged in lively conversation with Spencer's colleagues, regaling them with tales of her own experiences and sharing in their laughter. She was pleasantly surprised by how welcoming they all were.

As the evening progressed, plates of delicious food were passed around the table, accompanied by glasses of fine wine and spirited conversation.

Despite her initial nerves, she found herself thoroughly enjoying the evening, grateful for the opportunity to get to know Spencer's old team better.

However, amidst the laughter and chatter, Brittany couldn't help but notice the occasional odd glance from JJ. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but enough to stir a flicker of unease within her. She couldn't quite decipher the meaning behind JJ's looks, but she made a mental note to address it with Spencer later.

As the conversation ebbed and flowed, Tara leaned forward, a playful glint in her eyes. "Brittany, Spencer mentioned something about pretending to be your boyfriend at your sister's wedding. Care to share the story?"

Brittany laughed, a fond smile spreading across her face as she recalled the memory. "Oh, that was quite a memorable Valentine's Day," she began. "I needed a date so all my relatives could back off and stop bothering me about being single and stuff. So, in a moment of desperation, I may have asked Spencer to pose as my boyfriend for the weekend."

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly as all eyes turned to him, awaiting his side of the story. "Well, I couldn't exactly say no, could I?" he quipped, his lips quirking into a grin. "It seemed like a harmless enough request at the time."

Derek chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Congrats on pulling that off!,"

Brittany nodded, her laughter bubbling up once more. "Let's just say, it was an interesting experience navigating the minefield of family gossip and awkward questions. But Spencer was a trooper through it all, even enduring my mother’s relentless pestering. I’d say we make quite the team…”

Spencer glanced at her, his heart swelling with affection. "We do, don't we?" he said softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

She returned the gesture, her gaze warm and tender. "Absolutely," she murmured, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

As they said their goodbyes and settled into the car, she turned to Spencer, her voice low but filled with a hint of boldness.

"Hey, Spencer," she began, her eyes meeting his in the dim light of the car. "Do you want to have sex?"

Spencer blinked in surprise, caught off guard by Brittany's directness. His mind raced as he processed her words, his heart pounding in his chest. Despite his initial shock, he found himself drawn to her in a way he couldn't quite explain.

After a moment of hesitation, Spencer met Brittany's gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and desire. "Um, yeah," he finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, if you want to."

Brittany's lips curved into a knowing smile as she reached out to gently trace her fingers along Spencer's jawline. "I do," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin.

With a shared glance filled with anticipation and longing, Spencer and Brittany leaned in, their lips meeting in a fervent kiss that ignited a fire between them. In that moment, as the world faded away and desire consumed them, they knew that their night was only just beginning.

Spencer's brows furrowed in concern as Brittany's proposition hung in the air. "Wait, now?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty as he pulled away.

Brittany couldn't help but laugh softly at his reaction, a playful sparkle dancing in her eyes. "No, silly," she replied, her tone light and teasing. "Let's go to your place."

Relief washed over Spencer's features as he let out a nervous chuckle, his apprehension dissipating. "Oh, right. Yeah, that sounds... good," he replied, his cheeks flushing slightly.

With a smile, Brittany leaned in to plant a tender kiss on Spencer's cheek, her touch sending a jolt of warmth coursing through him.

#i'm such a fool for you #spencer reid x oc

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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beardedmrbean · 24 days

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A judge appeared disgusted Wednesday with an unlicensed and uninsured driver – with 19 previous traffic citations — who killed a bicyclist last fall, sending him to prison for at least two years.

Julius Hopkins, 32, pleaded guilty earlier this year to a charge of reckless driving resulting in death for the Sept. 23, 2023, crash that killed Nathan Miller, 32. Hopkins had no driver’s license, registration, or insurance when he collided with Miller on Nellis Boulevard near Tropicana Avenue in the southeast valley.

Miller, a BMX world champion, died hours after the crash. Hopkins was driving a car registered to him, records showed. The registration, which appeared to be a temporary Nevada plate, expired last March.

Police cited Hopkins at the crash site and released him. Officers later arrested him Thursday, Oct. 26, after friends came to the 8 News Now Investigators with questions about the crash. The 8 News Now Investigators then aired a report on Wednesday, Oct. 18. At that point, Hopkins was not facing any charges.

As part of a plea deal, Hopkins was eligible for probation, though he has a history of probation violations and convictions, Judge Mary Kay Holthus noted during Wednesday’s sentencing.

The 8 News Now Investigators found at least 19 traffic cases in multiple jurisdictions across Clark County where police cited or ticketed Hopkins dating back to 2010.

“You shouldn’t have been on the road,” Holthus said to Hopkins as she delivered a 28-to-72-month prison sentence. Holthus could have sentenced Hopkins to anywhere from a minimum of one year in prison or up to six years, with parole eligibility as part of the plea deal, documents said.

“I wish I would have stayed home that night, and we wouldn’t be here today, and Nathan would,” Hopkins told the Miller family as Holthus sentenced him.

Hopkins was driving 67 mph in the 35-mph zone at the time of the crash, documents said. Video the 8 News Now Investigators obtained showed the car suddenly jerked to the right and collided with Miller who was riding his bike close to the curb.

Hopkins was in the car with his wife and their child, police said.

“I too wonder what was going on in that car,” Holthus told Hopkins. “No wonder you killed someone.”

The crash report the 8 News Now Investigators obtained reveals an officer deemed Hopkins at fault for the crash, though “no enforcement action [was] taken.” The officer noted on the crash report that neither alcohol nor drugs were involved, however, there was no check box on the form for how the officer made that determination.

Though Miller was near death, fatal investigators did not respond to the crash to start their investigation in the soon-to-be fatal investigation.

Because the case is now adjudicated, the 8 News Now Investigators can file public records requests to gather more information.

“A strict sentence for the defendant has the potential to affect the thinking and actions of others,” Miller’s sister, Nicole Manning, said Wednesday.

Hopkins has 14 traffic cases in Las Vegas Justice Court. His earliest case, filed in September 2010, was on a charge of no insurance, records showed. Several of the 14 cases remained open as of Wednesday as Hopkins had not paid thousands of dollars in fines or had not yet appeared before a judge.

Hopkins also had traffic cases in Las Vegas Municipal Court, which handles such citations within Las Vegas city limits; Henderson Municipal Court and North Las Vegas Municipal Court, records showed.

“How many chances does the court keep giving at whose expense next time?” Miller’s mother, Michelle Dorotiak, said. “How many innocent lives will be torn apart or lost before the judicial system steps in and says, ‘No more?’”

In 2023, a new Nevada law decriminalized minor traffic offenses. The bill also abolished the practice of issuing warrants for failure to pay traffic fines or appear in court. Several open cases have no documented event other than the issuance of a citation.

With credit for jail time served, Hopkins will be eligible for parole in the summer of 2026.

Holthus is the same judge attacked in her courtroom last January.

#nunyas news

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g3m1n1fa1ry · 4 months

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Chapter 1

Soleil Margaux stood before the mirror, a vision of nerves and determination, reapplying lip gloss and ensuring every curl in her updo was perfectly in place. This moment meant everything to her; it was the gateway to a realm where fashion and wrestling collided, and she was determined to not just look the part but to secure the role she coveted.

Freshly graduated from Spelman at the tender age of 18, with a degree in political science, Soleil had defied her parents' expectations by choosing passion over convention. Instead of following in her father's footsteps as a lawyer, she set her sights on the unpredictable world of fashion. It was a decision met with disappointment, but nothing could quell her burning love for design.

Growing up, Soleil's entire world revolved around one passion – fashion. It wasn't just a hobby; it was an obsession, the very essence of her being. For anyone who knew Soleil, conversations with her were an unending stream of fashion anecdotes, thoughts, and sheer excitement. Fashion was not just a career choice; it was her calling, the rhythm that dictated the beats of her heart. When her godfather, the illustrious Vince McMahon, reached out to her father, practically begging for her to intern as the WWF costume designer, she knew this was the moment she had been waiting for. It wasn't just an internship; it was an invitation to step into a world where her heart truly belonged. The conflict of not following in her father's footsteps was overridden by the certainty that this opportunity was her gateway to a lifetime of fulfilling her deepest passion.

Seated behind the wheel of her vibrant 1999 Volkswagen New Beetle, Soleil embraced the nostalgia that came with the quirky charm of her beloved car. Meanwhile, the rumble of a sleek Black Mustang echoed through the air as her older sister, Solar, maneuvered into the driveway of their parents' house. The contrast between the colorful Bug and the powerful Mustang seemed to encapsulate the essence of the sisters' personalities.

A warm smile adorned Soleil's face as Solar parked, the nickname "Sunny" cutting through the air with an endearing familiarity that had spanned their shared history. The bond between the two sisters, forged in the fires of youthful adventures, was evident in the camaraderie that resonated in their interactions.

"Where are you off to, Sunny?" Solar inquired, her tone laced with a teasing affection that mirrored the countless memories encapsulated in that nickname. Soleil, undeterred by the nerves that fluttered within, met her sister's gaze with determination.

"I'm heading to the intern thing Uncle Vinnie set up for me, remember?" Soleil's response carried not just the weight of her present endeavor but also a silent affirmation of her journey, marked by individual choices and a pursuit of passion that set her apart.

Her sister's nod was accompanied by a chuckle that resonated with the disbelief of an inside joke. "I still don’t understand how dad is trusting you to be around all those sweaty men, you’re literally still a baby."

Soleil's eyebrows knitted together in a perplexed frown, a silent protest against the notion of being perceived as an infant. The label of "baby" grated against the very fabric of her accomplishments. Graduating high school at the tender age of 14 and subsequently completing college at 18 were milestones that painted a canvas of maturity far beyond her years.

"A baby?" The word hung in the air, a challenge to the perception that failed to align with the reality of her responsibilities. It offended her sensibilities, prompting a mental inventory of the independent life she had meticulously built. An apartment to call her own, keys to a car she paid for, and the financial reins of her existence firmly held in her capable hands — these were not the trappings of infancy.

"I mean, for goodness sake," she mused with a touch of exasperation, "I graduated high school at 14, college at 18. I've got my own apartment, my own car, handling rent and car payments without a parental safety net. Would a baby do that?" The rhetorical question lingered, challenging the stereotype and demanding recognition for the woman she had become.

"Need I remind you Lala—" Soleil's attempt to assert herself was swiftly intercepted by her sister's preemptive strike. "Yeah, yeah, I own my own car, my own apartment, I graduated at 14 as Valedictorian." Solar's tone dripped with playful mockery, a teasing dance around the achievements that Soleil held dear.

"All I know," Solar continued, her words carrying a mixture of sisterly concern and a hint of theatrics, "is that if one of those nasty, smelly men touches you, I’m going to have to come down there myself and kick some ass. Anyways, have fun Sunny, you’re going to kill this, and tell Uncle Vinnie I said hey." The proclamation was delivered with an air of protective bravado, a sisterly oath woven with genuine care and a touch of theatrical flair.

Soleil blew a playful kiss in her sister's direction before hitting the gas and driving off. As she navigated towards the arena where she was about to meet Uncle Vinnie, nervous jitters danced in her stomach. This was uncharted territory, leagues away from the familiar realm of fashion runways and glamorous designs. Sweaty men in briefs and tights were a far cry from the world she knew, yet she steeled herself with the realization that this was no time to complain.

Paris Fashion Week might be a distant dream at the moment, but the WWF stood as a formidable stage in its own right. The enormity of the opportunity settled on her shoulders, a weight both thrilling and daunting. Soleil expertly maneuvered her 1999 Volkswagen New Beetle into the first available parking spot, excitement and trepidation intertwining.

Stepping out, she grabbed her sketch pad and drawing tools, the echo of her boots clacking against the ground adding to the drumroll of her anticipation. Approaching the front desk, she observed a blonde-haired lady engrossed in a phone call. With a polite gesture, she mouthed to Soleil mouthed for her to wait a moment.

The blonde lady, named Mariah, concluded her call and turned her attention to Soleil. "Oh my God, don’t you look absolutely fabulous. Is there any way I can help you, sweetie?" Mariah's enthusiasm was infectious, momentarily easing Soleil's nerves. The backstage world of the WWF awaited, and with a grateful smile, Soleil embarked on this unexpected chapter of her journey.

"Thank you so much! I'm Soleil Margaux, and I'm here for the Costume Designer Internship," she declared with a bright smile.

"Oh!" Mariah's exclamation held a note of excitement. "Nice to finally put a name to the face. Your Uncle Vinnie raves about you all the time. I'm Mariah, by the way, and I'll buzz you in right now. Just walk to that door on my right."

Soleil's gratitude spilled out. "Thank you so much, Mariah!" As she stepped through the door, a rush of emotions flooded her. At just 18, the prospect of becoming a full-time costume designer for wrestling luminaries was both a blessing and a confirmation of her capabilities. Another accomplishment to add to the list of things that proved she wasn't just a baby.

Inside, her uncle Vince engaged in conversation with a backstage team member, marked by the distinctive headset. Determination sparkled in Soleil's eyes as she crossed the room, finally tapping Vince on the shoulder. He spun around, greeted by Soleil's enthusiastic wave. "Hi Uncle Vinnie!"

“Oh my goodness! Look at my little soul angel!” Vince exclaimed as he enveloped Soleil in a tight hug. "You've grown into such a remarkable young lady. I'm thrilled to have you here!"

Soleil beamed with pride, grateful for her godfather's warm welcome. "Thank you, Uncle Vinnie. I'm so excited to be here and learn from the best," she said.

Vince turned to the person he was speaking with before and introduced Soleil. "This is my talented niece, Soleil Margaux. She's going to be interning as our costume designer."

The person extended a hand, "Nice to meet you, Soleil. I'm Mark, part of the backstage crew. We're looking forward to having your creative touch around here."

Soleil shook Mark's hand, feeling a surge of confidence. As her godfather guided her through the backstage area, she couldn't help but marvel at the bustling energy and larger-than-life personalities.

Her uncle led her to a private meeting room so they could discuss further what she would be doing. "Soleil, my dear, I've got something special for you today," Vince exclaimed. Soleil's curiosity piqued, and her heart raced with anticipation.

Vince leaned in with a twinkle in his eye. "I've been thinking, and I believe it's time for you to take on a significant project. How would you feel about designing a new look for a tag team that has enormous potential? They're known as the Hardy Boyz."

Soleil's response lacked the enthusiasm her uncle anticipated. She hesitated for a moment before replying, "Well, Uncle Vinnie, I appreciate the opportunity, but I'm not sure how much impact my designs can have for a team that's, you know, not exactly in the spotlight."

Vince chuckled at her candidness. "Soleil, my dear, sometimes it's the unknown gems that shine the brightest. The Hardy Boyz might be under the radar now, but I have a feeling they're on the cusp of something big. Your designs could be the spark that ignites their rise."

Soleil nodded, still uncertain but willing to trust her uncle's instincts. "I'll do my best, Uncle Vinnie. Just let me know what they're looking for, and I'll see what I can come up with."

As the day progressed, Soleil reluctantly delved into the world of the Hardy Boyz. She studied their matches, observed their interactions, and tried to grasp the essence of their characters. Despite her initial reservations, she found a sense of determination to create something unique for them.

After the grand reveal of the Hardy Boyz in Soleil's designed costumes, the initial interaction between Soleil and the tag team was far from seamless. Vince, always the optimist, introduced Soleil to Matt and Jeff with enthusiasm, hoping for a harmonious collaboration.

"Soleil, meet Matt and Jeff Hardy – the brilliant minds behind the Hardy Boyz. I'm sure you'll all make magic together," Vince announced, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Matt and Jeff exchanged glances, giving Soleil a once-over that felt more critical than appreciative. The Hardy Boyz, known for their rebellious and individualistic personas, seemed uncertain about welcoming a fashion-focused outsider into their creative process.

"Hey there, Soleil," Matt greeted with a forced smile, extending a hand for a polite shake.

Soleil reciprocated with a genuine smile, but the atmosphere remained tense. "I'm excited to be working with you both. I really tried to capture the essence of your personas in the designs."

Jeff, known for his eccentricity, eyed Soleil's polished appearance with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, well, we're not exactly fashionistas. We're wrestlers. What do you know about what we need?"

Soleil, caught off guard, took a moment before responding, "I understand that you're wrestlers, and my goal is to enhance your on-stage presence. The right costumes can elevate your characters and make a lasting impression on the audience."

The Hardy Boyz exchanged skeptical glances. "Look, we've been doing this for a long time. We know what works for us," Matt asserted, his tone carrying a hint of resistance.

Soleil, feeling a bit cornered, nodded diplomatically. "Of course, I respect your experience. Let's find a middle ground where my designs complement your vision for the Hardy Boyz."

Despite her efforts to remain composed, a subtle sting of hurt lingered beneath her exterior. Insulted by the skepticism thrown her way, she couldn't help but feel a surge of determination. How dare these relative unknowns question her talent and demean her work? She made up her mind – she would make them swallow their doubts and regret ever underestimating her. They were about to witness the undeniable prowess of Soleil Margaux.

As Soleil faced the skepticism and resistance from the Hardy Boyz, she decided to respond with a hint of sarcasm and a touch of biting humor.

When Matt Hardy questioned her knowledge, she shot back with a sly grin, "Well, Matt, it's a good thing I've been studying fashion instead of the 'Wrestling for Dummies' manual. I might not know a powerbomb from a power suit, but I know how to make an impact."

Jeff's skeptical glance at her polished appearance prompted Soleil to retort, "Don't worry, Jeff, I left my wrestling singlet at home. I figured it wouldn't match the runway look we're going for. Fashion-forward, right?"

Jeff’s POV

“Who does this girl think she is?” Jeff exclaimed out loud as he watched Soleil saunter away back towards the meeting room. He couldn't deny her sharp wit and the audacity with which she challenged their wrestling-centric perspectives. Jeff exchanged a glance with Matt, both silently questioning the newcomer's place in their world.

He couldn’t help but feel a mixture of irritation and curiosity. "Fashionista meets wrestling – never thought I'd see the day," he mused internally. As the gears of frustration turned within him, he declared aloud, “You know something, I’m going to give Vince a piece of my mind and tell him that her being our costume designer is not going to work out.”

“Are you crazy?” Matt exclaimed, his voice filled with urgency. “That is Vince’s niece. We’re almost getting our big break, and I refuse to have you mess that up by saying something to him about her.”

Jeff shook his head, a scowl forming as he absorbed his brother's caution. “Where have your balls gone, man? You’re selling out for some random disrespectful chick just because she’s his niece?”

Matt scoffed, dismissing his younger brother's concern, and walked off, leaving the tension lingering in the air. The clash of priorities within the Hardy Boyz set the stage for an intriguing dynamic that could either make or break the collaboration with the unorthodox fashionista.

The clash of worlds in the WWF was nothing new, but Soleil brought a level of unexpected disruption. The idea of a fashion-forward designer infiltrating their wrestling domain was hard to swallow.

As Jeff contemplated his next move, he couldn't shake the feeling that this collision of worlds might lead to something either spectacular or disastrous. Wrestling was all about unpredictability, and with Soleil in the mix, the arena had become an uncharted territory where fashion and wrestling collided. The question lingered in Jeff's mind: Could this clash birth something entirely new and innovative, or would it crumble under the weight of two worlds trying to coexist? Only time would tell as the backstage drama unfolded in the world of WWF.

Soleil’s Updo and Outfit:

#jeff hardy x reader #black!reader #jeff hardy #jeff hardy x black!reader #wwe

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cheesybadgers · 1 year

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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 18)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 10,316

Summary: As Javier and Horacio make a fresh start in Madrid, they attempt to come to terms with their past, present and future with some unexpected help.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Romantic/emotional sex, edging, PTSD symptoms, grief and parental loss, brief discussions of sexuality/coming out, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: Ok, so I know I said I wasn't going to be posting for a while, but after some lovely comments I've had on Tumblr this past week, I thought I would show my appreciation by sharing this a bit earlier than anticipated ❤️

Chapter 19 is ready to go, so hopefully I can post that soon, as it's the second half of their Madrid adventures (I had to split it because it got too big for one chapter, oops).

Thank you once again to anyone still following this fic - old or new - I can't believe it's been over two years since I first started it. Never in a million years did I expect it to become, well, this lol. But we are very nearly there now!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 18: One Day at a Time

It was the stillest part of the day, the city suspended somewhere between the dying embers of night and the cusp of dawn. The streets below saw parallel worlds collide as overindulgent revellers staggered alongside coffee-carrying workers who had drawn the short straw.

Neither Javier nor Horacio was a stranger to witnessing sunrise from both sides. But there was comfort in waking up to it rather than being caught unawares when sleep never came.

A raucous catfight had woken them, although the sparring partners had since gone their separate ways and restored calm to the neighbourhood.

Javier surveyed the aftermath from the French doors of the balcony, a pair of arms smoothly securing themselves around his waist, their fingers entwining over his stomach.

“Did I miss anything?” Horacio croaked, grogginess still heavy in his throat, his bare chest radiating welcomed warmth against Javier’s chilled back.

“Just the usual suspects. I know the ginger one lives opposite, but I think the black one must be a stray.”

“The same one that was out here the other day?” Horacio nodded towards their balcony, equipped with a table, two chairs, and a few hanging baskets and potted plants.

“Looked like it.”

“Maybe we should put some food out if it stops by again.” Memories of the stray he and Alejandra played their part in looking after sprung to Horacio's mind. Strangely enough, that had been a black cat too.

“Should I tell Luna she’s been replaced already?”

“Don’t you dare.” At least the teasing took Horacio’s mind off the fact he missed all two-legged and four-legged residents of the ranch tremendously, and according to reports from Chucho, the feeling was mutual.

It had only been weeks since they left Laredo, but the days stretched out longer now. It wasn’t that time dragged, but their pace of life had slowed again. The ranch was a vacation compared to Colombia, but jobs still needed to be done. Here though, they had no commitments.

The first week involved sorting out their apartment. It came fully furnished, but they needed basics like bedding, groceries and warmer clothes. Arriving in Madrid during the winter months was a shock to the system after their balmy Texan Christmas, a fact Horacio probably should have warned Javier about before they stepped off the plane in their short-sleeved shirts.

Not that Javier minded whenever the temperature dropped in the evening, and they would huddle on the couch in front of the electric fire, limbs draped over one another. There was no scent of mesquite wood this time, but that didn’t matter when shared body heat and tactility were more than enough to satisfy as they christened the furniture in their shared home.

The décor was all neutral colours but vibrant paintings of local landmarks and rural Spain hung on the bright white walls. A long corridor stretched from the entrance, with a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and separate living area branching off it. Despite the modest square footage, the high ceilings and large windows along the external wall made the space light and airy.

The apartment was still dark enough to protect them at this time of day, and semi-closed blinds covered the balcony doors from top to bottom. They could see out the hangings, especially if they were prised apart. But Javier had ensured on the first day they arrived that there was no chance of anyone from outside nosing in. He wasn’t taking any chances, even though that threat was left back in Colombia.

Now the commotion outside had died down, they basked in the peace of their embrace.

“It was the cats that woke you, wasn’t it?” Horacio asked after a contented silence. He had to check, even though there had been a marked improvement in their sleeping patterns lately.

“Yeah, it was. I slept well last night, actually.”

“Me too. Better now I’m getting used to the traffic again.”

“The ranch really makes you forget how fucking loud the city is.” Or maybe, now Javier thought about it, it was the ranch that was so fucking quiet. “I’m still waking up through the night sometimes, cats or no cats. But I guess that might just be getting used to this place.”

“You like it here, though?”

“Yeah, I do. I can see why you wanted to come back.”

“I only wanted to come back with you.” Horacio’s fingers traced idle patterns across the soft curve of Javier’s stomach.

A light shiver ran through Javier as he lolled his head back into the pillow of Horacio’s shoulder. “So you could do this, huh?”

Horacio hummed in agreement against Javier’s neck, his mouth working methodically back and forth as a hand wandered south in search of a trail of dark hair, skirting through the wiry strands.

“Well, it wasn’t for the sangria,” he scathed, his teeth scraping over Javier as though he would rather devour the man in his arms than a glass of that stuff. Maybe it was because they hadn’t drunk much alcohol since Javier returned from Colombia, but neither had taken to it. “And you don’t seem to be complaining.”

“There are worse ways to start the day.” Javier relaxed into Horacio’s hold, allowing himself to be manhandled because there was no rush. There never was anymore.

Plenty of early mornings had begun similarly. Sometimes one man would wake up to the calid pressure of a mouth around his cock, gradually allowing the slow burn of arousal to build whilst they were half-asleep. Other times they would spoon with one held inside the other, barely moving, vaguely dreaming but always on the brink of release.

Then there were times when slow and gentle weren't enough. They had mastered the art of keeping each other quiet, for their apartment walls weren’t the thickest. Not too much, though, because the rhythmic slapping of skin-on-skin or the crisp echo of a palm across the ass was part of the appeal.

But teasing strokes and languorous rolls of the hips were in order now. One hand pumped at an unhurried pace, Javier’s length fitting in Horacio’s grip as though they were made for each other. As though Horacio had every nerve ending and sweet spot memorised as he expertly massaged Javier’s frenulum, extracting a guttural moan that reverberated through their chests in tandem.

Horacio’s free hand mapped Javier’s skin, chasing goosebumps with the calloused pads of his fingers as he found friction at the cleft of Javier’s ass. Each touch and motion a tangible reminder he wasn’t here alone this time, that the solid form in his hold and the stubbled cheek grazing against his were real. That they belonged to each other, not as possessions but as mutual choices made again and again.

Javier luxuriated in a delirious limbo, teetering on the verge but never quite there, the need for release visceral in the pit of his stomach. Yet as he trembled and writhed, alternating between pouting his bottom lip and biting it, a part of him was willing to beg to be kept hanging. Because this was what he had wanted when they were separated by oceans and a misplaced sense of duty, and now he had it, he didn’t want to let it go.

Each twitch or convulsion only made Horacio pull Javier closer, gaining extra purchase with the firm grasp at his hip bone, grinding harder but not faster, lost in dragging the head of his cock in agonising circles, from side to side, then up and down, pausing to let it throb in time with their panting. Knowing he could probe further and give them what they needed, but then it would be game over.

So, they resisted, turning shallow breaths into deeper ones, Horacio ceasing movement whenever they neared the point of no return, reeling them back in like a wound-up coil, forcing them to admire the view below as they fought against every instinct in their bodies.

Javier allowed the balcony door to bear some of their weight with one hand splayed across the clinking blinds, pushing back a fraction just to make Horacio groan in his ear and seize the cross dangling from his neck. His other hand clutched Horacio’s arm, neck, shoulder, whichever part of him he could reach, grounding and anchoring them together.

Whenever they almost succumbed, memories of their time apart would re-focus them in the present; where their legs shook, and their toes curled at every new sensation rippling through their joined form, the anticipation of relief battling with remaining in equilibrium, daring each other to prolong the exquisite agony for as long as possible.

But resistance was inevitably futile. With several final jerks of the wrist and hips, they surrendered control, painting Javier with their release from both sides as they gave themselves over to the white-hot bliss cascading through their synapses, each spasm igniting and stoking flame after flame, consuming and burning until they almost blacked out.

Neither moved as the pink haze of the skyline broached the gaps in the blinds and blushed their fevered skin; the dawn air a perfect tonic to the blazing heat between them. A greeting from the light rather than a reluctant acknowledgement after outstaying their welcome in the dark.

Strong arms encased Javier at his front while a rhythmic beat drummed against his back, catching and soothing him in surroundings that were still relatively new. Steady, grounding, home.

“Good morning, by the way,” Horacio said between tender kisses along Javier’s shoulder.

“Hmm, certainly is a good morning.” Javier shifted to face Horacio, sweeping him up with an open-mouthed kiss as addictive as the first one they ever shared, and oh, how far they had come since then. “Is it too early for breakfast?”

“Not when we’ve built up an appetite.” Horacio nibbled at Javier’s lip to emphasise his hunger. “Although, maybe a shower before I make us some coffee?”

Javier nipped back before instigating another searing kiss, barely breaking it to speak again. “Sounds good to me.”

Nothing was particularly extraordinary about the idyllic scene they had started the morning off with. And yet that in itself was extraordinary. Not so long ago, all of this felt out of reach, something to aspire to or hope for, but not something feasible. But here they were, in their shared apartment, embarking on a new chapter together, taking another leap of faith. Not running away from the past but trying to break free from its shackles, one day at a time.

------------------------------------------------------

Once they had got their bearings in the first few weeks, they began to venture out bit by bit. First, it was walking around the city’s vast green parks, starting with the nearest and working further away from their apartment each time. Then cooking or takeaway turned into dining in a secluded bistro. And watching TV in the apartment became a leisurely stroll around a museum.

Horacio hadn’t felt much like sightseeing when he was here by himself. But things were different now. Everything was different now, even the city itself, from how the early morning light fell on the buildings to the hustle and bustle of Gran Vía. The crowds were still there in their droves. The shoppers and tourists, who would stop in the middle of the pavement with a street map sprawling across their arms, still needed to be sidestepped at the last second. But it was easier to ignore when Javier was by his side.

It was at this point that Horacio knew there was something he was going to have to do. Something he had been putting off, despite it being something he wanted to do. But that didn’t calm the nerves bubbling in his stomach as he took the familiar walk around the corner from their apartment building and down a cobbled side street. Javier had offered to come with him for moral support, but playing it safe seemed the best option, at least this time, just in case.

As he approached the glass door with its seasonal flower arrangements hanging below the red and gold calligraphic Café Romero lettering, it hit him how much his life had changed since he last visited, how much he and Javier had been through. So how reasonable was it to expect everything to be the same here? He swallowed hard as he turned the handle, the bell above the door jangling as it opened.

The interior looked the same as always. Caramel and beige walls complemented the variety of coffees on the menu and the lush green of potted plants decorating the shelves, in between photos of past and present generations of the Romero family. A large window ran along the front, providing extra lighting and an opportunity to people-watch on busier days.

Horacio could see no staff and only customers, but it was early, so the place hadn't filled up yet. In fact, his usual window seat in the corner was still free. Waves of nostalgia layered with relief rolled over him as he sat down facing the counter.

But it didn’t take long for the face he was looking for to appear from the kitchen carrying a fresh batch of napolitanas de chocolate.

A shriek of delight quickly followed once Señora Romero put down her baking tray and raised her head. She brought her hands to her face in surprise, gathering up her apron at the same time as it caught on her fingers. “Horacio?!”

The intonation of her voice suggested it was a question. But she was already crossing the floor of the café with her arms outstretched.

Horacio rose from his table, making it easier for her to scoop him into a hug reminiscent of the ones his Abuela Margarita gave him as a child.

“It’s good to see you, Señora Romero. I hope you’re well.”

She looked well, her silver hair still tied in a messy bun and her rounded figure and freshly stained apron a sign her passion for food hadn’t waned.

“All the better for seeing you.” She lightly squeezed his cheek as she took in his appearance. “Although you might have warned me, I’d have baked more of those milhojas you liked so much last time.”

“Sorry. I’ve not been back long. I’m still sorting out the apartment and trying to remember my way around.”

“Of course, of course. Rest your feet, and I’ll bring you something over. Your usual coffee?”

Horacio smiled at the fact she had remembered his order. “That’d be lovely, thank you.”

The coffee was as delicious as ever, much like the freshly made churros and accompanying hot chocolate, which Señora Romero gave him on the house despite his protests.

She updated Horacio on her family and how Luisa and her husband, Julián, had become parents since their wedding. Their new arrival, Tomás, meant Señora Romero still ran the café, with Luisa helping out occasionally until Tomás was at school.

Señora Romero rushed to grab some photos from behind the counter, showing off her latest grandson. She was in her element and every bit the doting Abuelita.

“Congratulations, I can see the family resemblance,” Horacio said, passing the photos back.

“I said the same to Luisa! He’s definitely got the Romero nose.” She gazed at the picture before shifting her attention back to Horacio. “So, what did I do to deserve the pleasure of your company?”

Horacio scoffed into his cup, creating ripples across the surface of his coffee as he took a sip. “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about from where we left off?”

Horacio hadn't been looking for sympathy, but naturally, Señora Romero supplied plenty of it, gasping, tutting, and consoling in all the appropriate places when he gave an abridged and redacted version of events since their last meeting.

He spoke more than was ideal about his injury and retirement from the CNP because, by comparison, it was safer ground than the inverted commas silently hugging every use of "friend" a mention of Javier brought.

“Oh, Horacio, my dear. You have been through the wars. How’s your shoulder doing now?”

“Okay, mostly. I still get twinges, but I know I’m lucky.”

“Lucky to have someone like Javier around as well, by the sounds of it.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Even if he had wanted to stop it, the reflexive smile spreading across Horacio’s face was irrepressible.

Señora Romero studied his features intently, beaming in return once she had finished. “And how was life on a ranch?”

“It was…good, actually. I know it’s not the CNP, but I liked the peace and quiet. And the routine. Something always needed doing or fixing.”

“It might not be the CNP, but that sounds much safer and simpler to me.”

“It was. It was good to feel useful again. Like I was making a difference, even if it wasn’t life or death.” Especially if it wasn’t, more like.

“I know you never talked much about it, but I could see how restless you were trapped behind a desk. You’re a man of action, Horacio. I don’t see that changing no matter which path you take.”

The café was busier now, meaning Horacio was left to finish his churros whilst Señora Romero dealt with the start of the breakfast rush.

As he dipped his last churro in the remnants of hot chocolate, it occurred to him that, once upon a time, his father would have been the central focus of this conversation. And, of course, he had wondered what his Papá would have made of his son living and working on a ranch in Texas, of all places. But it was also a moot point. It was an answer he would never get, regardless of how much he wrung his hands about the hypothetical possibility of disappointing his father.

This was about what was best for him and Javier now. The ranch had been their escape from the madness that was slowly killing them. Although Horacio never knew with absolute certainty what caused his Papá’s heart to fail, it was a plausible theory he overworked himself. And that irony sat more comfortably with Horacio these days. Because as much as his Papá had been a role model since Horacio was old enough to understand the word police, he was also a cautionary tale.

When the rush died down, Horacio helped clear some tables. It was the least he could do in exchange for words of wisdom and a complimentary breakfast.

But Señora Romero didn’t stop there and scuttled off behind the counter. She filled a box with an assortment of pastries and cakes, sealed the lid and handed it to Horacio as he moved towards the door.

“Here, my dear. Some more to keep you going. Enough for two, in fact.”

Horacio fumbled for a response beyond thank you as he accepted the box, wishing he could hide inside it as he sensed her eyes still on him.

Señora Romero’s hand lingered on his for a fraction longer than was customary for a simple goodbye.

He looked up to find the same head tilt and gentle smile he was met with in the apartment upstairs almost two years ago. When he was indirectly talking about Javier.

“I meant it when I said don’t be a stranger. You and Javier will always be welcome here.”

The sincerity in her eyes grew sharper, and she gripped his hand. In sympathy? Solidarity? Horacio wasn't sure.

But it put him at ease enough to reciprocate and ask a question now lodged in his throat with no option to swallow it back down. “How did you know?”

“Because there’s a glow about you, Horacio. A glow I remember from a long, long time ago. I might’ve forgotten a lot in my old age, but never that. Not even now it’s just me rattling around upstairs. It doesn’t have to fade, you know. Not if you don’t let it.”

It was a running theme for Horacio’s elders to leave him speechless like this. And it was all he could do to bob his head in acknowledgement, hoping he might be capable of such sage insights one day.

The bell above the door chimed again, signalling the end of their reunion as Señora Romero greeted her new customers, inviting them to sit wherever they liked.

“I think that’s my cue. But thank you, Señora Romero. For everything.”

“Any time. Take care, Horacio. And remember, my door’s always open.”

------------------------------------------------------

Horacio dropped the box of delights on the kitchen counter, the fresh breeze and murmur of traffic revealing that Javier had moved from the bedroom to the balcony since he left.

Javier put the book he was reading down in favour of craning his neck over his shoulder to watch Horacio potter about the kitchen before biting the bullet. “So, how did it go?”

Horacio didn’t speak whilst he concentrated on transferring a couple of ensaimadas onto plates. He then joined Javier, sitting in the empty seat next to him as he offered a plate. “Better than I thought it would. She guessed about us. I didn’t tell her. Somehow she just…knew.”

“How did she take it?”

“I think we’ve got a free supply of these for life.”

They couldn’t help but laugh in unison, more from relief than anything else.

“See, I told you it’d be fine.”

“Yeah. It’s never gonna stop, though, is it?”

“How d’you mean?”

“Every time we meet someone.”

“I say it's nobody’s fucking business unless we decide it is.”

“I spoke to Alejandra yesterday. While you were in the shower.” Horacio paused at his announcement that might have appeared unconnected to their conversation, but Javier knew better. “I let her know I’m back here for now. I couldn’t tell her the rest, though.”

He focused on his plate, poking a fork at the crumbly layers of pastry, hoping to find his courage buried somewhere between them. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, stop that.” Javier forfeited his plate for leaning closer to Horacio, palm caressing his thigh. “Before Laredo, you said I should only tell Pops if I’m ready. So, there’s no rush, Horacio. Take all the time you need.”

Horacio entwined their fingers on his leg because if anyone understood his apprehension, it was Javier. “I know. I just hate keeping it from her after everything we’ve been through. She would always make me soup if I was sick. And she looked out for me after Papá was gone. She taught me Mamá’s sudado de pollo recipe because it was one of Papá’s favourites. I liked to think I was the man of the house, but she loved reminding me she was my older sister.”

“I bet she did. I saw that a lot with my parents and my Tías and Tíos. Never could decide if I’d have preferred brothers and sisters after they all got together.”

“That’s siblings for you. I didn’t want to shut her – or Mamá – out. But when things got crazy back home, I had no choice.”

“Same with Pops. The worse it got, the more I shut down. But he understood. And…I know I haven’t met them.” Yet, Javier wanted to add but thought better of it. “But they might too.”

“I know.”

“We’ll be okay whatever happens, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. I do.” Horacio finally let go of Javier’s hand, knowing if he held on any longer, he’d have given their neighbours something to gossip about.

Instead, he took another bite of his pastry and a swig of the half-drunk coffee from the table where Javier’s abandoned book lay. “What are you reading, anyway?”

“Oh, just this.” Javier reached for his Mamá’s poetry book, the pages fluttering in the breeze, the superstitious remnants from his upbringing wanting to believe it was a sign of something other than the weather. “Before we left, I told Pops I wished she’d met you. I don’t know if she ever suspected anything about me, but…I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Maybe not. But for what it’s worth, I wish I’d met her too.”

It had always been a relief for Horacio that his father and Javier never crossed paths, but that was mostly a projection of his own fears. The truth was, he would never know if his Papá suspected anything about him, either.

Once they had finished their ensaimadas, Horacio washed up the plates and a few items waiting by the sink, a routine he performed countless times with Alejandra when they were just about tall enough to reach the taps; before any expectations of who or what he was supposed to be were placed on his shoulders. Memories flooded back of how they would squabble over who got to wash and dry. Although, of course, more often than not, his big sister would pull rank, and in hindsight, he smiled at the possibility that, all those years later, she, rather than their Papá, was what had made his job so appealing.

As he left the clean plates, cups, and cutlery to dry on the draining board, it dawned on him that Alejandra and his Mamá didn’t have to be the same story as his Papá. They didn’t need to be another unfinished, half-written story in which the ending would always elude him, haunt him, or hold him back. Not if Horacio didn’t leave it too late this time.

------------------------------------------------------

Whilst Horacio resumed his early morning runs, they were more like gentle jogs these days. It wasn’t that he had lost his stamina after being put through his paces back on the ranch, but he didn’t feel the need to charge ahead at full pelt anymore. He was more likely to go through a routine of strengthening exercises, to keep his right shoulder from seizing up, and for whenever they decided to head back to Laredo. If that was to become his full-time job, he couldn’t afford to be out of shape.

He left Javier in bed, with plans to meet him at Café Romero for breakfast. It was to be Javier’s first time meeting Señora Romero, which they were confident they had nothing to worry about, but that didn’t quell the butterflies dancing in their stomachs the night before.

It was why Horacio had gone for a run instead of lying awake restless, counting down the hours until he could get up. His muscle memory, rather than his wristwatch, estimated that by the time he jogged one of his usual routes that took him to the outskirts of Casa de Campo park and walked a few blocks to cool down, he would be ready for breakfast.

About three-quarters of the way through his run, having just exited the park, he heard the call of his name. He willed there to be another Horacio jogging passed at the same time, but when his eyes fell upon the source of the voice, he knew he was out of luck.

“Álvaro?” He didn’t know why he asked; he’d spent enough time with Álvaro Molina to recognise his voice anywhere.

Álvaro was a chief inspector in the Spanish CNP. Not a direct parallel to Horacio’s role in Colombia, but close enough. Although Álvaro was never based at the Consulate when Horacio was, they spent plenty of time in the same cross-departmental meetings.

He was a couple of inches taller than Horacio with hazel eyes and unruly dark brown curls that were more mottled with grey than their last meeting. At one time, Álvaro carried almost as much muscle as Horacio, but he had visibly lost weight, his face now gaunt and rough with days’ old stubble.

“How the hell are you?” A hand shook Horacio’s with vigour. “Better than last time, I bet, now that motherfucker’s in the ground.”

“You could say that.”

“What brings you back? They didn’t exile you again, did they?” Álvaro winked, knowing he was on friendly enough terms with Horacio to get away with it.

A scoff and roll of the eyes was Horacio’s response. “No. Actually, it was the other way round this time.”

“Oh? You are a dark horse. Always thought they’d have to force you into retirement when you’re old and grey.”

“Yeah, me too. But I guess things change.”

“Hmm, some more than others.”

“I take it there’s been no let-up in seizures after Medellín folded?”

“Not with Cali waiting in the wings, no.” There was a brittle laugh followed by a shift in Álvaro’s facial expression, the joviality from moments ago now gone and replaced with traces of sleep deprivation.

“That’s the trouble. You cut off one serpent’s head, and two more of the fuckers grow straight back.” Horacio’s words were loaded with a sting of venom at the mention of Cali, closely followed by thoughts of Los Pepes, Stechner and the CIA’s protection of Cali. How could they possibly win when the whole system was corrupt to the core?

“Tell me about it. Listen, I don’t suppose you’ve got time to grab a quick coffee? Hell knows I need one.”

Horacio calculated he had about 15 minutes maximum spare, so, it was doable if he drank fast and didn’t get too involved in shop talk that was no longer his remit.

“Okay, there’s a place just inside Casa de Campo. But you’re buying.”

“Always the cheapskate.”

------------------------------------------------------

Javier glanced up from his newspaper to the clock on the wall. Horacio was technically late; by his own standards, that was. Javier wouldn’t even have noticed if it was anyone else.

He followed Horacio’s instructions on how to get here, even down to picking the window seat in the far corner of the café. It was empty when Javier arrived – five minutes early, which must be a first – so he sat and waited.

Not long after he took a seat, a lady too young to be Señora Romero came to greet him with a friendly smile, ready to take his order.

Javier went with a café solo for each of them, saving the food order for when Horacio arrived.

Even when speaking in short sentences, Javier was self-conscious of his accent here, sometimes forgetting to adjust his pronunciation or pick a different word than he was used to. Of course, it had been the same when he arrived in Colombia and Horacio in Texas. A cultural exchange that led to many late-night conversations – and the occasional argument – about dialect differences. But that was the versatility of the Spanish language.

The same waitress brought the drinks over, although an older woman had joined her who was now clearing the adjacent table. The family resemblance between the two women was undeniable, so Javier assumed this must be Señora Romero and…Luisa, did Horacio say? He kept quiet for now, just in case he was wrong. Nor did he want to steal Horacio’s thunder with introductions.

As Javier thanked Luisa and explained the second cup was for someone meeting him shortly, Señora Romero ceased wiping a cloth across the emptied table, her ears pricking up at an accent she didn’t hear too often.

Not that Javier noticed as his eyes darted to the door, up to the clock and down to the paper with a heavy sigh.

He got through one and a half news stories when Señora Romero made her move from watching Javier curiously from behind the counter to standing by his table.

“It’s not like him to be late, is it?”

Javier was startled out of his newspaper and looked up, where rich shades of chestnut and cinnamon collided for the first time. “How—?” was about all he managed to stutter out.

Señora Romero sat opposite Javier, where Horacio should have been sitting. “Ever since his first visit, he went straight for this table. It is a nice spot, though. He always read his papers and ordered a café solo every time.” She smiled affectionately at the coffee cups on the table like they were an old friend. “Plus, he told me about Laredo. So, I wasn’t expecting another Colombian accent.”

“I’m impressed. We could’ve done with more people like you in Colombia. And I was under strict instructions to pick this table. But you’re right; it’s not like him to be late.”

There was no doubt a logical explanation for Horacio’s absence. But Javier couldn’t stop his fingers from fidgeting around the handle of his cup or his knee from bouncing under the table and causing an earthquake.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s on his way, dear. Did he go for one of his pre-breakfast runs?”

There was something comforting about Señora Romero’s familiarity with Horacio’s routines, even though Javier had never met her before. It gave them a mutual talking point and a connection beyond the usual dry small talk. “Bingo.”

“Of course! He was one of my most loyal regulars. I did miss seeing him in here after he left.”

“He’s talked about you and this place a lot. So, I’d say the feeling’s mutual.”

“Bless you, my dear. I’m glad our paths crossed. But I’ve no doubt he ended up where he belonged.”

Heat bloomed in Javier’s face and chest as Señora Romero gave him a pointed look followed by a flash of a wink. And he couldn’t help but feel sheepish that he and Horacio had ever worried about her reaction in the first place.

It took his mind off things until his gaze fell back on the clock, and he saw another five minutes had passed. Where the fuck was he? No, Javier couldn’t think like that. It was stupid and unnecessary at this stage. He just needed to focus on the pleasant conversation he was having now. So, he tried again.

This time, he asked questions about Señora Romero’s family and, during a lull in the breakfast rush, was introduced to Luisa as a friend of Horacio’s. If Luisa suspected anything, she took it in the same stride as her mother.

Next came the family photos, including plenty of Tomás, naturally. An album's worth of photos was scattered across the table, allowing Señora Romero to guide Javier through each one as though she was delivering a presentation. But as someone with a large extended family, Javier didn’t mind and even interjected with anecdotes about his own relatives.

After a tilt of his head and a sip of his coffee, Javier brought the cup down to the photo-covered table with a sense of déjà vu. It took him out of the moment and forced him to close his eyes, trying to blink away his sudden change in mood. But then, a wave of cheap perfume filled his senses. And Señora Romero’s finger pointing at the pictures was younger and manicured. The photo she placed in his hand wasn’t the many generations of the Romero family posing in front of the café; it was one of the long-lens photos of Javier and Horacio.

He blinked hard enough to see spots, allowing his vision to gradually re-focus on the safety of the photo in his hand rather than the violating one burnt into his memory. He tried not to think about those images, and for the most part, he succeeded these days. But occasionally, his brain would taunt him, reminding him how paralysed he was by the possible consequences. By the fact he put Horacio in so much danger and couldn’t even tell him about it or be with him. By the fact he and Steve were glorified puppets to the likes of Stechner whilst the CIA was up to its neck in corruption.

“These, er, these are all beautiful,” he managed to get out, hoping that the last few seconds had gone unnoticed, as unlikely as that was.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else while you wait, dear?”

That was the next question Javier heard, but he couldn’t be sure if he had zoned out and missed a whole chunk of conversation.

"Er, no, thanks, I'm good."

Without meaning to, his eyes scanned between the clock and the door again, an irrational hope taking hold that if he stared at either long enough, he could make Horacio appear by sheer willpower alone. However, as the second hand on the clock ticked and ticked, he was back in that damn hospital bed. Waiting, waiting, waiting. That was all he could do, unable to get comfortable as each movement was a red-hot poker jabbing in his ribs. But he would take that any day over the crushing, suffocating, nauseating dread that weighed on his chest like a foreshadowing of death. Not his death, although it would have been in all but name if the pendulum of fate had swung the other way.

“Javier? Are you alright, my dear?”

Javier was back in the café, a light sheen of sweat gathering on his skin as he tried to shove whatever the fuck that was back in its box. “Er, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“Why don’t I pour us some lemonade upstairs once you’ve finished your coffee? I’ll ask Luisa to send Horacio up when he gets here.”

Javier expected his instincts to push him towards the door and back to the apartment, but they didn’t. Instead, they saw the genuine concern on Señora Romero’s face and the kindness in her gesture. They saw the glimmer of faded memories of his Mamá taking care of him, knowing this wasn’t the same, but also that it didn’t need to be. And so he did the only thing he could.

“That’d be good, thanks.”

------------------------------------------------------

Álvaro brought over two coffees from the kiosk by the park entrance to a nearby seating area of tables and chairs. The previous day’s rain still clung to the stainless steel furniture and explained why there weren’t as many people around them as on a scorching hot day. But that worked in their favour.

They sat opposite each other across a table suffering from a wobbly leg, Horacio in his jogging pants and a somewhat sweaty t-shirt, and Álvaro apparently in yesterday's suit, shirt and skewwhiff tie, if their crumpled appearance and less than fresh aroma were anything to go by. A far cry from the pristine CNP-issued uniforms and tailored suits picked out by Álvaro’s wife their last meeting saw them wearing.

As Horacio took a sip of coffee, he noticed Álvaro reach into the inside pocket of his jacket and pull out a hip flask.

Álvaro lifted the plastic lid from his cup, poured a generous measure from the flask and offered the same to Horacio.

Horacio raised his hand and shook his head. “Bit early for me.”

They made small talk, Horacio managing to be as vague as possible regarding his reasons for living here again. “Taking a break in a beautiful city” and “Catching up with old friends” were about the gist of it. But he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information the first time, so his stunted replies weren’t out of character.

Álvaro was equally brief about the details of his life, which was out of character now Horacio thought about it. Álvaro used to talk about his family as much as his work. His wife was his rock, his kids were his pride and joy, and his brother was progressing at pace through the military ranks. But this time, he confirmed they were doing well and left it at that before getting down to business.

“An anonymous tip-off recently fell into the DEA’s lap. Lots of juicy details about Cali. The gringos are working their way through the intel, and it flagged up more links to our old friends in Galicia. There were sightings of Pacho Herrera up there, plus some of his associates are based in Madrid. So that’s opened a huge fucking can of worms.”

Horacio had a terrible time trying to stifle a reaction to the mention of a tip-off. There was nothing 'anonymous' about it from the DEA’s point of view, not even when it came to the intel's delivery.

The last time he was here, the Galician traffickers were working with Escobar. And whilst Horacio’s redeployment was conducted from behind a desk for the majority, his colleagues had chewed his ear off about various Colombian names that came up in reports or wiretaps. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that the Spanish clans had moved on to Cali.

Álvaro lit a cigarette as he talked, offering up a second one from his almost-empty carton.

But Horacio declined, instead taking another sip of his drink. “Sounds promising. But Álvaro, Cali is a different beast to Medellín. They’re more discreet, professional, and they have powerful friends in high places.”

“I know. But we have to try, right? Look at Operación Nécora. Sooner or later, someone gets sloppy, drops the ball, turns on one of their own, or kills the wrong person. And then we win.”

Watching Álvaro chug back his Irish coffee in one hand with a smouldering cigarette perched in his other was like looking in a mirror to the past. And it wasn’t a pretty sight.

When Horacio was in the fray, it had been too easy to focus solely on the case in front of him, convincing himself it would all be over soon if he just shut down one more lab and seized one more kilo or wad of cash. Or tortured one more suspect. But it was never enough and never would be. He had been fighting a losing battle that had no likely ending in sight, even if the individuals and locations were a perpetual revolving door.

“I’m not sure there are winners in any of this,” he said, the resignation heavy in his tone.

“Shit, you really have changed.”

“Maybe.”

“Last time I saw you, you were raining fire and brimstone upon the narcos. What the fuck happened?”

“Do you know how many funerals I’ve been to, Álvaro? Or how many people I’ve killed? Because I don’t. I stopped counting. Then Escobar tried to have me killed – and nearly succeeded.”

“Woah, woah, what?”

“I took a bullet here,” Horacio gestured to his right shoulder, “and nearly bled out. The doctors said I was lucky I was brought in so fast.” Although Horacio knew a lot more than luck was involved.

“Shit, Horacio.”

“Yeah. So, it’s easy for you to keep fighting when you haven’t lost as many times as I have.”

“Because no one else could possibly have lost anything as well, right?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sounded like it to me. And you’ve got no fucking idea.” Álvaro slammed his cup down on the table, the force of its impact splashing coffee droplets in all directions.

Horacio opted not to make a fuss but he could have sworn he saw the reflection of tears in Álvaro’s eyes as they focused on their drinks in silence. “Did something happen?”

“What gave it away?” Álvaro gestured towards himself, acknowledging his worse-for-wear state. He leaned his elbow on the table, head held in his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair. “There was another bombing. Last June. An army transporter was targeted by 40 kilos of explosives left in a parked car. My brother, Jaime, was...he was there…and didn’t make it.”

“Fuck, Álvaro. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Except, in a roundabout way, he did have some idea. Because back in Colombia, it was Horacio who delivered such news to countless families like the Molinas.

“No, well, you wouldn’t.” He took out the hip flask again, draining whatever was left into his coffee cup and knocking it back. “Not least of all because I lied about him earlier. Sorry about that, by the way. Still not very good at this sort of thing.”

“No, of course. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Your dad was a cop too, right? Before he…passed away.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“I remember you telling me. It was about the only thing I got out of you, come to think of it.”

Half a rebellious smile broke through Horacio’s tightly pursed lips. “Yeah, well, I guess I wasn’t very good at this sort of thing either.”

“But you are now?”

“Better than I was. Better now I’m not trying to be him. Now I realise he was as flawed as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, trying to follow in the footsteps of a high-achiever in the family will fuck you up for life. Or so I’ve heard.”

Horacio didn’t know a lot about Jaime but was aware he was 10 years older than Álvaro. From the way Álvaro talked, it was clear how much he hero-worshipped his big brother. And if anyone knew the pitfalls of such high pedestals, it was Horacio.

“Sounds familiar. As much as I’ve always missed him, I was glad he never saw me at my worst.”

“All I wanted was for Jaime to be proud of me, and I think he was.” Álvaro’s eyes lit up, and for the first time during their conversation, the wrinkles of his smile reached them. “But I’m not sure he’d even recognise me if he saw me now.”

“The paradox of grief.”

“What?”

Another smile crept over Horacio’s face. “Just something someone once said to me. Whatever you do, it’ll never feel enough now he’s gone.”

“Never thought of it like that. But it’s not just a dead man I’m letting down. My wife tried so hard with me; she really did. But…the nightmares started. They were always about trying to save Jaime, but I couldn’t. So I drank ‘til I was comatose. Then work got crazy and things spiralled. She didn’t think it was good for me to be around the kids, and well, I can’t argue with that.”

Álvaro unloaded a jumble of words in one fell swoop, catching Horacio off guard as he tried to take it all in. But it wasn’t as though it was unfamiliar territory for him. It wasn’t as though he had no experiences of his own to share, experiences he had only ever opened up to Javier about until now.

“That was my life, for a long time, without the wife and kids, obviously. But the nightmares and the drinking got bad after I...I accidentally killed someone I was sent to rescue.”

“Shit, Horacio. You never said anything when you were – wait a minute – is that why you were here in the first place?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Horacio let out a hollow laugh at the fact the death of Diana Turbay wasn’t his superiors’ red line. “I’m sure it didn’t help my cause, but the final straw came when I led a raid on a nightclub. We took down some high-level sicarios, but a bystander got caught in the crossfire.”

“Fuck. There were so many rumours about you, no one knew what to believe. I heard you took out Escobar’s cousin, but surely they wouldn’t exile a hero.”

“I’m not a fucking hero, Álvaro.”

“Ha! So, it was true.”

Horacio said nothing, his silence giving Álvaro the answer he was looking for.

“You can’t tell me you’re sorry about that.”

“I’m not. And I don’t regret everything I did.” It was the truth. He wasn’t trying to atone for some of those fuckers getting what they deserved. They weren’t why he walked away. “But you know what they say…old sins cast long shadows. These things stay with you, whether you’re the one killing or it’s the people around you being killed.”

“So, what are you saying? That it’s too late for damaged goods like us?” There was a desperate crack in Álvaro’s voice as though he was looking to Horacio to confirm his fears and put him out of his misery once and for all.

“You probably don’t want to hear it right now, but…it doesn’t always have to be like this. It’s not easy, and it takes time, but it can get better.”

“You’re right. I didn’t want to hear that.” Álvaro kept his features neutral until he caught Horacio’s eye and they both laughed, because what else could they do?

“Neither did I, for years. Because it felt impossible. But no amount of punishing yourself will bring him back or change the past.”

“There’s quite a team set up now,” Álvaro continued after a long silence, as though he hadn’t heard a single word Horacio had said. “From your end, our end, the DEA, Interpol, the SVA. You name it, we’ve got fingers in the pie. And there’s always room for more.”

Álvaro looked at Horacio with great expectation, waiting for an answer to an unspoken question until he could wait no more. “Horacio, you know what it’s like more than most dealing with these people. And you remember how it was last time. Couldn’t so much as talk about the weather without it getting back to someone up there.”

That much was true. The situation in Galicia was eerily reminiscent of Medellín. Homegrown police taking bribes left, right and centre and passing on intel to the trafficking clans. Politicians’ and judges’ integrity in tatters because they, too, turned a blind eye. The Colombian cartels made Galicia their gateway into Europe. And their success was thanks to the layer upon layer of corruption that was allowed to exist.

“No.”

“Come on, at least think about it. There’d be none of that pen-pushing bullshit this time. You could be out in the field again, it’d be just like the old days back in—”

“Álvaro, I said no.” Horacio didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to with how his steely glare and steadfast jaw framed his face. “I’m done with it for good. End of story.”

Álvaro raised his arms in surrender, his second cigarette of their meeting now burning between his fingers. “Alright, alright, I get the message. Can’t blame me for asking now I know you’re back.” He raised the cigarette to his lips, regarding Horacio with increasing intrigue through the wisps of smoke hanging between them. “So, who is it, then?”

“What?”

“Whoever’s convinced you to quit and move here. Must be serious. And don’t lie because I know there’s someone.”

“Your interrogation skills need more work, Molina. And on that note, I better be going. You’re making me late for an appointment.”

“Nice deflection there, Carrillo. I’m just saying; they must be the love of your fucking life to give it all up.”

There was a scrape of metal against the floor as Horacio rose from his chair, not dignifying Álvaro’s prying with a response, even though it was the naked truth.

“Alright, fine, fine! I can take a hint. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on.” Álvaro brought a hand to his lips, ‘zipping’ them closed with his thumb and forefinger.

Horacio sat back down with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. Good for you, in fact. It’s hard enough to find someone like that in the first place, but to hold onto them and make it work? Nothing short of a fucking miracle. But you know where I am if you ever change your mind.”

“Thanks, but I won’t.”

“Thought you might say that.”

“If you ever change your mind, please think about what I said. You can’t run away from this. No matter how much you bury your head in your job. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I can’t make any promises, Horacio. You know how it is.”

Of course, he knew; that was precisely why he was saying it in the first place. But he also knew there was no point pushing it any further. “It was good to see you, Álvaro. And I am sorry about Jaime.”

“Me too. And er, thanks. For listening and everything. I really appreciate it. Although, I gotta ask, when did you get so fucking wise?”

Horacio laughed, assured there was no malice in Álvaro’s teasing, and because he had apparently accomplished what he was expecting to wait years, if not decades to do. “I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit.”

“Should’ve known. Good to see you, Horacio. Don’t leave it so long next time. And I hate to say it, but retirement already suits you.”

“Thanks, I think. Take care of yourself.”

They stood up from the table, deposited their empty cups in a nearby bin and walked back to the entrance that took them onto the main road.

After shaking hands, they went their separate ways, Horacio in one direction and Álvaro in the opposite.

It wasn’t long ago that Horacio lamented turning his back on the CNP. But as he broke into a run to mitigate his uncharacteristic lateness, he caught glimpses of familiar church spires towering over every other building. They had been a comforting backdrop to his guilt and shame, and whilst he would always carry them around for certain deeds, it wasn’t a place he ever wanted to revisit. And the next time his lapel pins found themselves between his fingers, or Trujillo still called him Colonel out of habit, he would be reminded it was okay to miss something but never want it back.

------------------------------------------------------

Javier sat stiffly on Señora Romero’s floral sofa, clenching and unclenching his fists to distract himself from the creeping sense of embarrassment setting in.

Señora Romero joined him in the neighbouring chair, a tray of lemonade and a selection of pastries from downstairs placed between them on the table.

“Have you eaten anything this morning, dear?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, that won’t do. Here, take some. Don’t be shy.” She practically shoved the plate at Javier, stopping short of placing one of the pastries in his mouth.

“Thanks. And sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“From what Horacio told me, I’d say it’s understandable. For both of you.” Señora Romero gave the tall jug of lemonade a final stir, then poured it into two ice-filled tumblers, handing one to Javier and settling back in her chair.

Javier thanked her as he accepted a glass, wasting no time quenching his dry mouth.

“And it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Señora Romero continued. “My country went from the Civil War to Franco for over three decades. Not to mention the violence in the Basque region, and the bombings here, of course. People don’t like to talk about it much, but the scars are still as plain as day.”

Javier wasn’t exactly an expert in Spanish history, but he knew the basics. And hearing them listed together suddenly made his experiences seem tame by comparison. Not that he thought for a second that was Señora Romero’s intention, but it gave him a large dose of perspective.

“I never talked to anyone before Horacio, to be honest. Same for him with me, but it took me longer to get there.”

“My husband rarely told me what he’d seen and done in the war. He thought I wouldn’t understand, and maybe I didn’t. Maybe I couldn’t. But we survived the same storm in the end, even though we were sometimes in different boats.”

“It was a while ‘til we were in the same boat. Even now, sometimes we’re not,” Javier said as his mind drifted with a smile to their conflicting views and priorities over the years.

In theory, it shouldn’t have gone the way it did. They may have shared the same broad goal in Colombia, but they came at it from different angles. They weren’t supposed to trust and understand each other more than anyone else. They weren’t supposed to walk away from their all-consuming careers for each other, and they certainly weren’t supposed to fall in love. But life had a funny way of working out.

As for their current situation, they were dealing with things in their own way and in their own time. It was never going to be something they could coordinate. But even so, it frustrated Javier when he spiralled seemingly out of nowhere. Except, was it really out of nowhere? It was all a blur now.

“In my experience, sometimes you can’t be,” Señora Romero said. “And sometimes, you won’t want to be. Sometimes, you float alongside each other in your own boats. And sometimes, it’s good enough just to sail in the same direction at different paces.”

“He’s never late. And I guess it’s force of habit to assume the worst.” Javier wasn’t expecting to say that, but it was like someone had just removed their foot from his chest. It was an admission to himself as much as Señora Romero, confirmation that it hadn’t been out of nowhere at all.

Señora Romero merely nodded, giving Javier the space to continue if he wanted to.

“On the night of the ambush, Steve – my partner – and I weren’t supposed to be there. I’m not sure we were ever supposed to be in Colombia, to be honest.”

Javier stopped to let out a sceptical sneer as snippets of his encounters with Stechner replayed in his head. For all he knew, Stechner could have orchestrated his entire career, manoeuvring him around like a pawn on a chessboard.

“But we disobeyed orders and followed Horacio anyway. And then we, er…we heard gunfire and screaming over the radio. It was the longest car journey of my life.” He took another sip of his drink and a deep breath, determined to finish now he’d started. “It was the same at the hospital and after the bombing here. Always waiting, but never knowing where he was or if he was okay.”

“Oh, Javier, my dear, it makes complete sense you would think the worst. I would be the same in your shoes. But you have to remember, he’s a civilian now. He’s not a target anymore. The ETA bombings here have been directed at the Spanish authorities.”

Señora Romero leaned forwards until her hand met Javier’s. Shades of chestnut connected with cinnamon again as he squeezed as a gesture of thanks. Neither appeared fazed by this being their first meeting, perhaps finding it easier because they simultaneously didn’t know much about each other but enough to no longer be strangers.

“And for what it’s worth,” she continued, “regardless of the rights or wrongs of your government’s involvement in foreign affairs, it seems you were exactly where you were supposed to be that night.”

Touché. He couldn’t argue with that, the irony apparent of Steve previously framing Javier’s need to follow Horacio as a warning rather than a calling.

“I may have only just met you, Javier, but I know what you did for Horacio that night was a brave act of love. Wanting to help is an honourable trait, don’t ever forget that. But you might find you’re not worrying yourself sick so much once you’re focused on helping others again. And someone out there will always need it, wherever life takes you next.”

Javier scoffed before gulping down the rest of his lemonade. “I think that’s the problem.”

Señora Romero’s hosting instincts kicked in as she re-filled Javier’s glass.

“Thanks. Horacio got out a year before me and settled in working on my Pop’s ranch. Way more than I ever did.” Javier cringed at some of the memories of him in his pre-police days attempting various jobs that Horacio took to like a duck to water, whereas he had floundered.

“Is that what he wants to do?”

“I think so. Which is great; he’s a natural. It suits him.”

“But you don’t know what’s next for you?”

“Not a clue.” Not a fucking clue was more accurate, but he caught himself just in time.

“Do you need to have it figured out yet?”

“Well, no, not yet. We’re okay financially for now. But I know it can’t last forever.”

“There’s plenty of time between now and forever, Javier.” Señora Romero lowered her voice as though she was letting him in on a coveted secret. “At your age, anyway. Less so at mine, but I take each day as it comes.”

“What’s that like?”

“There are good days and bad days. And bad weeks, months and years, come to think of it. Days when my body doesn’t do what my mind tells it to do. Days when my mind is frail, and my heart is sore. But on other days, I’ll spend time with the family. Or my piononos will come out better than they did last time. Or I’ll make new friends in unusual circumstances.” She winked in Javier’s direction. “I think the bad days are just part of life’s rich tapestry. Especially where healing wounds are concerned.”

Occasional reminders of the past – or bad days – scattered amongst the simple pleasures sounded suspiciously like their time in Madrid so far. But maybe that was okay. Maybe, that was part of the process of moving on with their lives. Maybe, progress was supposed to be subtle and non-linear, almost imperceptible unless you knew what you were looking for.

No sooner had Javier got his head around that prospect than there was a knock at the door followed by a heartfelt apology, given and accepted with a look as much as words.

Of course, Señora Romero had been right, and there was no life-or-death emergency to attend to. But any embarrassment on Javier’s part was overridden by the relief his fears were unfounded, and he would gladly take an anxious mind rather than the alternative.

Pulses returned to baseline as the trio talked, albeit Horacio’s for a different reason than Javier's.

Whilst Madrid wasn’t Laredo, they couldn’t take acceptance for granted wherever they were. But as they returned downstairs, where Señora Romero removed the ‘Reserved’ sign from their corner table and offered them yet another breakfast on the house, a weight lifted from Horacio’s shoulders. Because the first real friend he made here had welcomed him and Javier into her home and business with open arms.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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