#cartel/gang content
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Blind Faith
Chapter 5: Assumption of Risk
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader
Chapter Summary: There are no terms and conditions when it comes to a secret affair; you only know the risks.
Warnings: 18+ content in this chapter, smut
A/N: I hope you like this chapter! I can't believe I just wrote it this afternoon, lol. I haven't written anything smutty in FOREVER so I hope this passes. Thank you all for reading this story :D
Chapter 4 here
Credit to the gif owner!
Office of Nelson & Murdock
Hell’s Kitchen
4 PM
Assumption of risk: a plaintiff's inability to recover for the tortious actions of a negligent party in scenarios where the plaintiff voluntarily accepted the risk of those actions.
Matt Murdock was normally a very focused person, despite his ability to listen, feel, and sense things that could be distractions. It was easy to tune things out and focus on one thing at hand. Today, he used his Orbit reader to study case law regarding illegal money laundering. His fingers grazed over the braille before him, and his brows were furrowed in concentration. Ever since things with Fisk ended, Nelson & Murdock was able to take on more low-key clients and squash not-so-life-threatening issues. It was nice, to have a break from all of that. It truly felt like they were doing what they were always meant to do: help people using the law.
Of course, old habits never die. Daredevil was a part of who Matt was, whether he wanted it to be or not. He didn’t want to stop his nighttime activities anyway. Despite the city’s biggest threat being behind bars, there were still people who haunted it in his shadow; who wanted to continue to infect the city with their evil actions. Drug cartels, gangs, white-collar crimes—crime didn’t stop at Wilson Fisk.
And yet, after everything he’s endured, Matt thought something like this couldn’t hurt: being with you. Taking all of you in, in his senses. Showing up on your roof like clockwork. Stealing kisses and quiet conversations together, behind the mask. Except, Matt didn’t think he’d grow so attached in such a short amount of time. He had a hand in this fight now. You struck a match and it relit the fire in his heart.
Maybe, he would reveal himself to you. He’s done it before: Claire, Karen,… Elektra. Maybe finally you wouldn’t be the one who got away.
Even studying case law, you still occupied his mind so much. He could hear the way you gasped before he kissed you in his ears. The subtle hint of marshmallows in your fragrance was intoxicating to his senses. The way he had smelt another man on you…he clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. Don’t think of that now. Your steady heartbeat he was beginning to memorize; how it sped up whenever you saw him and how it slowed down when he held you in his arms… he knew it so well, he could almost hear it now.
Wait. Literally.
And he could smell your fragrance growing stronger: that warm smell of marshmallows accompanied by your natural scent, getting closer.
And suddenly, you walked through the door of Nelson & Murdock.
Matt nearly lost his balance in his seat. His own heartbeat pounded in his ears as he gripped his desk in his office. He kept a cool exterior but listened intently to the main room. Did you know who he was? Did you figure it out somehow? Matt began rummaging for every explanation in his head, as lawyers do, and couldn’t come up with a memory of him accidentally revealing himself and what he does in the day to you.
He listened.
“Hi, how can I help you?” Karen spoke lightly as she stood from her desk, greeting you. Matt breathed slowly as he continued to listen.
“Hi, are you Ms. Page? My name is __. I’m here for my interview for the legal assistant position,” your voice, God, it was definitely you, spoke politely—a tone Matt wasn’t used to and for a moment was shocked to hear such a different side of you. If not for the circumstances, he might’ve smiled.
“Oh, yes!” Karen exclaimed in realization, “Yes, you can call me Karen. How are you? It’s so nice to meet you. Why don’t you find a seat in the conference room and I’ll see if Nelson or Murdock can join us,” Karen said. You thanked her and walked to the conference room, taking a seat in the middle of the table. Matt heard you rummage through your bag and pulled out a folder.
“Hey, Foggy? The applicant’s here. You wanna do this interview with me?” Karen asked Foggy who was furiously typing away a summation.
“Ah, can’t. I’m on a roll to pin this fraudulent employer and if I stop now, we might lose,” Foggy said. “Ask Matt. I think his task list is light today.”
No, it’s fucking not, Matt thought to himself. Matt wanted to punch himself. Of course, the applicant had to be you. He knew you were a pre-law student, but there are tons of those in the city—you just happened to be the one who applied to his firm. Matt laughed in spite of himself—fate struck once again, between you two. Why?
“Matt,” Karen peeked her head into his office sounding hurried, “you have to do this interview with me.”
“Oh, no,” Matt argued nervously, “I—you can do it yourself. I have to read up on this case law and—-“
“Case law can wait. Potential employees and the future of this firm, cannot. Please join me, I think she’ll be a good one,” Karen pleaded. Matt sighed, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe what he was getting himself into.
“Okay,” Matt replied, defeated. “But you’re leading the conversation.”
Karen scrunched her brows at him, wondering why he was acting the way he was. She shrugged it off and joined you in the conference room.
Matt prepared himself as he grabbed his cane from his desk, slowly undoing it. He cracked his neck and took a deep breath. He tapped his way to the conference room and slowly opened the door.
He was immediately hit with your qualities again, and if he hadn’t been dressed as Matt Murdock, the lawyer, he would’ve melted right there. Your marshmallow scent warmed his nose. You were in a button-down shirt and black pants. He could tell by the minor sweat that stuck to your skin—it was out hot today. He heard you tense when he walked in. Your heartbeat grew fast—interview nerves, he confirmed. He gave a small smile and sat down next to Karen uncomfortably.
Matt couldn’t blow his cover. He had to act as if he’d never met you in his life before.
Karen cleared her throat, urging Matt to speak. She held papers in her hands—probably from the folder you pulled out.
“Sorry—I’m Matthew Murdock, one of the lawyers here,” Matt held out his hand awkwardly for you to shake. When you took it, it took all his strength to not shiver at your touch. Your hands… the same ones he held at midnight, the same ones he’s felt touch his cheek, the same ones he’s pinned above your head before…
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Murdock,” you answered politely, giving his hand a good shake. Your voice… the same voice he’s heard in whispers. Your mouth, speaking… the same ones he’s kissed, just last night. Focus, Murdock. “I—I didn’t know you were blind. I would have tried to get my resume and transcript translated to braille.”
Matt raised his eyebrows—not many people were forward about his disability. He appreciated your forwardness, and he was surprised at how professional you were. Not that he didn’t think you could be, but it was strange to see a different version of you. It was like meeting you all over again in an alternate universe. He supposed you’re technically seeing a different version of him, but you don't know it.
“That’s all right,” Matt replied after a moment, “that’s why I have Karen. Among other things—she’s more than an office manager, and you’ll learn that soon.”
He didn’t have to see Karen to know she was smiling.
“So, even just glancing at your transcript, it’s very impressive,” Karen stated, flipping through pages. “3.9 GPA, Honor Society—you just graduated? Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” you answered. “Yeah, you know, fresh out the cap and gown.”
“And I see you took some journalism classes, too? Did you want to do that before studying law?”
“I did. I loved journalism and I’m actually familiar with your work at the Bulletin. Your stories on Fisk and pretty much everything you’ve done,” you explained. Matt listened carefully to see if you were lying in this interview—you weren’t.
“Wow,” Karen blushed, “thank you, I appreciate that. So why did you switch to law?”
“I think journalists and lawyers can do a lot of good for people. I also think they can do a lot of damage to people. I know journalism pretty well, but I want to do extra steps and know the law and how to use that to people’s advantage,” you explained. Your heartbeat was still beating fast, but you managed to keep your voice steady.
“You’re studying for the LSAT now?” Karen asked.
“Yes,” you said, “I just began this summer.”
“What do you do in your free time?”
Matt knew you were thinking of an answer.
“I mostly spend my weekends at home,” you lied, Matt knew. He suppressed his smile. “I’m not one for going out, so if you ever need me on a weekend, I’m there.” That was half a lie and half-truth.
“We try not to, but lately we’ve been getting so many cases, we've had to come in on a Saturday. It’s not often,” Karen explained. “What was your favorite pre-law class?”
“Legal research and writing,” you answered, truthfully. “I love writing and creating arguments.” That I know, Matt thought.
“That could definitely be useful around here. Matt and Foggy are always drafting summations,” Karen said. “I don't think I have any questions. Matt, do you?”
Matt cleared his throat. He supposed he should ask one question.
“What do you value in a place of work?” He asked.
After a moment of pondering, you spoke again.
“The truth, I think,” you answered, “if an employer isn’t transparent on one thing, how can you believe anything else? I think it’s important to remember everyone’s on the same side. You’ve got to trust each other.”
Matt nodded in response. He didn’t know what to say.
“Alrighty,” Karen wrapped it up, “thank you so much for coming in. It was a pleasure to speak with you. You’ll be hearing from us very soon.”
The three of you stood up and you shook Karen’s hand, thanking her. Matt uncomfortably took a deep breath and held out his hand for your handshake. It was hard for him to not let his touch linger like he always did with you.
“Thank you again,” You said rather softly. Karen walked you out as Matt stood in the conference room alone, hands on his waist. He sighed and shook his head.
“We are definitely hiring her,” Karen came back in the room. “I think she’ll be really great here.”
“Don’t we have other applicants? We should interview them first,” Matt argued.
“Matt, that posting has been up for weeks now. She was the only one. We are going with her. Were you not impressed with her answers?”
“She lied about something,” he said, grasping at straws. He didn’t worry you’d find another law firm to work out.
Karen crossed her arms, looking at him annoyed. “What did she lie about?”
“That she doesn’t party. I heard her heartbeat,” Matt answered, knowing it was a weak argument. Karen laughed.
“What, and you didn’t party in college? C’mon Matt,” Karen punched his shoulder lightly. “Why are you so against it?”
“I’m not,” Matt chuckled nervously, “I—“
“We’re hiring her. Overruled, whatever it was you were about to say. I’ll let Foggy know and draft her offer letter.”
Before he could answer her, Karen already left him standing there.
Fate wasn’t clever, Matt thought. It was cruel.
Hell’s Kitchen
11 PM
Matt sat at the top of his roof in his black outfit, waiting for someone to scream for help. He waited for any sign of a crime taking place, any cop cars going off, anything. And all that he was met with was silence and his thoughts of you.
He could’ve argued more to not let Karen hire you. He didn’t. He could’ve said you lied about everything. He didn’t.
Just when he was about to reveal himself to you, the interview today ruined it. How could he now, after that? Hey, it’s nice to see you again. By the way, I’m your new boss. He ran every possible scenario in his head and none of them made sense to him. Would you be mad, if you found out it was him? Creeped out? He didn’t want this to affect your career goals. He heard you call your friend, Emily, immediately after the interview. You were so excited. You knew you nailed the interview, and truthfully, you did.
Would it be better to keep this a secret? He was already living a double life—now he had to live it twice as hard with you.
Nothing was going on tonight.
He ripped off his mask and began to walk back to his rooftop access when you crossed his mind. Hell, you didn’t even cross it anymore. The thought of you was always there, Matt thought.
He knew what he was getting himself into, by being two different people with you. Nothing, not even himself, could’ve stopped him from putting his mask back on and finding his way to your rooftop.
He made his decision.
Hell’s Kitchen
11:30 PM
You didn’t know if he’d come, but you always waited at your rooftop in case he did. There wasn’t a set schedule for when you and Mike would see each other, you just did. You snuck out a short while ago when you knew everyone was asleep. You shivered as you waited patiently. You were in your nightdress and an oversized cardigan. You pulled out your phone and re-read the offer of employment letter Karen had sent you hours ago. You often did this when something excited you. You couldn’t wait to start working at Nelson & Murdock.
Maybe Mike was busy tonight. Just as you were about to call it, you heard a familiar thud on your roof. You walked over and there he was, all in black, face covered, as usual. You smiled and locked your phone as you made your way to him.
You were about to greet him, but he pulled you in immediately for an embrace. He buried his head in the crook of your neck and took a deep breath.
“It’s nice to see you too,” You laughed softly, pulling back. He rested his hands at the small of your back. “Rough night?” You asked in concern. Despite all your meetings with him so far, you never really realized the fact he put his life in danger every night, and it wasn't a guarantee he’d make it to your rooftop.
“No,” he answered. “Just wanted to see you.”
Your heart melted when he said. Maybe there was hope after all, for the two of you. Maybe you were more than just his secret.
“You seem off,” you urged politely, “are you okay?”
He was silent. You furrowed your brows.
“Is it the Catholic guilt?” You smirked, which at the very least, made him laugh a little.
“You could say that,” he said.
“I’m no priest, but if you haven’t done anything wrong, then you shouldn’t feel guilty,” you whispered. Mike tilted his head slightly as you spoke. He smiled a little.
“You make it sound easier than any priest I’ve ever heard speak on guilt,” he said.
“This isn’t confession,” you began, “but you know you can tell me anything, right? And I won’t tell.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“I mean, I haven’t told anyone about us.”
“I know.”
“And you probably haven’t either.”
“I haven’t.”
“So what’s wrong?” You urged.
Mike seemed to ignore the question.
“Tell me about your day, instead.”
“Well, I got a job today. At a law firm. I’m really excited.”
“That's good,” he whispered. “What else?”
“I had a low-key day otherwise,” you said, “just waited for tonight. For you.”
“Hmm,” he kissed you. He placed his hand on the back of your neck.
He didn’t stop kissing you.
~~~
Matt threw his thoughts of doubt away. With you in front of him, the anxieties about you disappeared. It was funny, how it worked like that. The thing that brought him the most anxiety is the thing that could calm him down. Being in your presence. It’s like, he’s more himself when he’s behind the mask, with you.
Matt continued kissing you, his kisses turning more urgent, desperate. Now that he wasn’t Matt Murdock, the lawyer… A.K.A., your new boss, could let his thoughts about you run free in his mind. It took everything in him today, at the conference table, to not melt at your touch. To not let his sinful thoughts cloud his mind. To not think of all the nights he’s been with you, kissing you in a dark alley.
Now, he could. It was just the two of you. That’s how he liked it.
You placed your hands on his chest and gripped her shirt, pulling him closer. He walked you to the side of the door of the rooftop access, pushing you against the wall. His tongue teased your bottom lip as if asking permission to enter. You obliged. Your tongues met desperately, and he kissed you harder. So hard, it was as if you’d disappear if he stopped.
You pulled back, breathlessly.
“I’m not drunk,” you told him. He kissed your jaw.
“I know,” he said.
“Last time you said you wouldn’t touch me because I was drunk,” you explained, “I’m not drunk right now.”
Matt smirked. Using his own words against him. He wasn’t going to argue.
“Silk,” he simply stated as he gripped your waist. He felt your silk nightdress under your cardigan. "I love silk.”
“I didn’t wear it for you but I guess that works in my favor,” you smiled.
“It’s soft,” he whispered, his nose grazing your cheek. “But not as soft as you.” Matt swung your left leg around him, so you stood on your right. He held you in place against the wall as you firmly wrapped your leg around his waist. He made a low sound in your ear. He could feel your heart rapidly beat in your chest. You weren’t nervous. You were aroused. And your sex, between your legs, he knew was throbbing, and wet. He could sense it in the air. He took a deep breath as he reached his fingers underneath your silk dress and ran them along your stomach.
You shuddered at his touch, as you felt his hands trace you. He teasingly grabbed the lace of your thong and pulled it so it lightly smacked you. Matt slowly worked his way up to your breasts and felt the soft curves of them. He took one of them in his hand completely as he continued to hold your leg around him.
“So soft,” he whispered, “and mine.”
“All yours,” you said with a shaky breath.
He moved his hand to squeeze the other one in a kneading motion.
“Tell me to stop,” Matt hushed.
“You won’t hear that from me,” you said.
Slowly, he reached his hand down to your wetness. He had to take a deep breath himself as he felt your wetness twitch at his touch. He felt how soft you were and fully put his palm over your sex. He took his pointer finger it moved it up your slit, onto your clit.
“Oh,” you let slip out. You rubbed yourself urgently on him. Matt held you still.
“You like that, don’t you?” He asked. He knew the answer by your soft moan in response. He pushed one finger into your tightness and listened carefully to how you reacted. Breath hitched. Her heart skipped a beat. You spread your legs even more as he kept going in an in-and-out motion, getting faster and curving with each move. He slid a second finger in you and began to rapidly thrust inside your wetness. You held your breath.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” Matt whispered.
Listening to his command, you let out a loud, salacious breath as you held onto his shoulder. Matt kissed your neck as his fingers continued to work on your wetness. He was pounding his fingers inside you, hitting your sweet spot each time. And each time he felt him hit your sweet spot, you moaned, like a chant.
“Oh, God,” you said in a weak voice. “Oh my, God. Oh, oh, oh.”
He felt your sex tighten around his fingers.
“Keep making sounds in my ear,” Matt ordered. Your moans sounded like a prayer in his ears. He closed his eyes, as his fingers swam in your wetness. He wanted you to be louder.
His thumb found your clit, and you shivered against him with a moan.
“Oh, God,” you pleaded, “Yes. Keep going, Mike—oh, my—“
“I want you to come for me, sweetheart. Let me hear you,” Matt urged you as he swiped his thumb gently over your sensitive clit.
At the final swipe, you completely shivered against his body and held onto him so tightly, Matt knew you left scratches on his back. He knew you were riding the waves of pleasure he sent you in as you kept grinding against him, even after your climax. He felt your heart beating against his chest as you collapsed into him, letting your leg fall. Matt immediately held you against him, burying his face in your neck. You finally caught your breath.
“Well,” you began, “let me return the—“
“No,” Matt contended. “Just you.”
“What?”
“That was for me, as much as it was for you,” He whispered. He caught your lips in a kiss. You melted into his touch and shook your head.
"This is bad now,” you said. Matt furrowed his brows.
“What is?”
You laughed ironically and shook your head.
“Not only are you trusting and you make me feel safe, and you’re hot,” you began, “but you’re a total fucking sweetheart.”
Matt laughed.
“No, that’s what I call you.” He kissed you and held you tighter.
“Mike?” You asked him. Matt paused. “I like this. What we have,” you said.
“I know. I do, too,” Matt answered. He tilted his head, wondering your meaning.
“And that’s still not enough for you, to take off your mask?”
He was quiet. He shook his head.
“I will. When it’s safer, and I know my enemies,” Matt explained, which wasn’t an entire lie. When Foggy and Karen found out about his secret, their lives were in danger for a few years. Evil was still out there, and he couldn’t risk you falling victim to what they went through. That part was true.
He knew you didn’t like his answer by the soft breath you huffed.
“Listen,” he spoke softly, “there are people who know who I am, and they almost got killed for it. I—I can’t let that happen to you. Please understand that,” Matt begged, placing his fingers on your jaw.
“I will,” you said, “for now. But you should know that if I know the risks, that’s on me,” you stated. “Not on you.”
“No,” Matt argued, “it is on me. That’s my weight to carry. I’m not arguing this further.”
“Okay,” you digressed.
“I have something for you,” Matt said. He reached into his pocket and found the burner phone he once gave to Claire. He placed it in your hands and wrapped your fingers around it.
“What is this, for booty calls?” You laughed.
“For when you need me,” Matt said.
“What if I always need you?” You purred as you kissed his jaw. Matt smiled.
“For when you need me when you’re in danger,” he corrected, “God forbid.”
“I’ll keep it with me all the time,” you told him. “Thank you.”
He could hear how tired you were, and if he remembered correctly, tomorrow was your first day at Nelson & Murdock.
“Go to sleep,” Matt whispered. “I’ll see you… tomorrow night.”
“Goodnight, my guardian angel,” you whispered.
“I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever called me an angel,” Matt said.
“It’s more fitting, in my opinion.”
When you went down to your room, Matt crunched at the corner of the rooftop and waited for you to crawl into bed. You put the burner phone in the drawer of your nightside table. He heard you scroll through your regular phone for a few minutes until you eventually fell asleep.
Perhaps, the risks of all this would be worth the outcome, whatever that may be.
#matt murdock#matt murdock smut#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock fanfiction#charlie cox#charlie cox x reader#daredevil#daredevil x reader#blind faith#mcu#marvel cinematic universe#the defenders#daredevil born again#idk what else to tag lol#Matt Murdock x you#matt murdock fic#matt murdock imagine#daredevil imagine#marvel one shot#matthew murdock
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A ramble.
Honestly I'm not surprised to hear about this KKK dark romance book
Mostly because I have already said that authors have been left to include very questionable things in books advertised as mainstream and even YA
readers are dismissed for calling out problematic elements, especially in regards to bipoc calling out white authors for racism
But also because Italian readers have called out dark romance authors and readers for romanticising the real life mafia while such organisations are directly involved in things like human trafficking and murder
Same with some biker gangs. Same with the Bratva. Same with the Cartels. Real people suffer and die everyday at the hands of these groups
So am I surprised that there's a book about a KKK member and a "Cartel princess"? Obviously not
In all honesty I don't know where the line is supposed to be drawn between exploring darker themes and content that needs to be red flagged. I don't believe in censorship but I think profiting off of dark material, putting it in the mainstream and promoting it is gross and should be unacceptable
And so often dark romance is just used as a blanket term to push violently misogynistic and subtly (or not so subtlety) racist content
Heroines in these romances skew white, virginal and uncomfortably young most of the time and when they aren't they are fetishised or hyper-sexualised
Romantasy and "booktok" in particular has become this surreal genre encroaching on YA/NA fantasy, determined to make smut the centre of every story
And publishers are behind it all, signing million dollar deals to sometimes subpar authors to push out these barely edited books that are high in smut and tropes but low in quality and plot
Idk what the solution is but something needs to change
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Clara Carmine headcanons
Note: I'm new to the fan content scene on Tumblr, still figuring things out! I’m going to be making headcanons based on different fictional characters I adore, from different franchises/fandoms!
Clara Carmine is the daughter of Carmilla Carmine, one of the overlords in the series Hazbin Hotel on Amazon Prime. She’s one of my favourite characters and I wanted to dedicate my first headcanon post to her! Clara only has about 10-15 seconds of screen time, and one spoken line, but I adore her!
NSFW/SFW, Mature themes: discussion of death, discussion of cartels, discussions of weapons and violence, discussion of murder and a planned attack on a family, family themes, sexuality, pronouns, discussions of blood.
PERSONALITY HEADCANONS.
The following headcanons discuss what I think she would’ve been like on earth and what she’s like in hell.
-Clara is the younger of the two sisters, about 18 years of age physically, her soul is around 25 years old.
-She identifies as a demigirl, with she/they pronouns.
-She used to struggle a lot with her sexuality, she never really saw the fun in boys, but never paid attention to girls either. With help from her sister she found out she was lesbian around the age of 16 on earth.
-She looks a lot like her father, but her personality is more like her mother.
-Fluent in English, Spanish and French, though she’s attempted to learn Portuguese too.
-She’s fiercely protective over Odette, when the two were in school on earth Clara was always the one who stood up for her older sister when she was bullied.
-She hasn’t lost her confidence after finding herself in hell. She isn’t afraid to fight any demon that hurts her sister or mother, but doesn’t often get the chance to fight because of Carmilla’s protective and motherly nature.
-In the Carmine weapons business she takes the role of delivery girl alongside her sister Odette.
-In her free time she plays music, she has a customised guitar she uses to write and record her own song covers- this girl can SING!
-She’s very active on Sinstagram, posting music covers for any listening ear.
-Clara owns one soul, a lackey from the cartel she worked for on earth, who came to the Carmines for protection.
ROOM HEADCANONS.
Because every demon needs a safe place to call home, these are the headcanons I have for Clara’s room in the Carmine Mansion, down in hell!
-Clara’s room has slate blue walls and is covered with posters and pictures, most of them depicting her family. She has a large family picture of her, her mother and sister in front of their business on her ceiling above her bed, so she can look up at it every night.
-She has a queen sized bed with matte royal blue covers and a lot of pillows.
-She has a wolf plushie, affectionately named Wolfie, which she’s had since she was 2 years old. Wolfie has a top hat and bowtie.
!!MATURE THEMES AHEAD!!: discussion of death, discussion of cartels, discussions of weapons and violence, discussion of murder and a planned attack on a family.
The following headcanons discuss the surroundings of Clara’s death.
Family headcanon: Carmilla’s ex husband left her shortly after Clara’s birth, leaving her with two young daughters in a broken city in Mexico. Carmilla entered the weapons business, working for a well known and dangerous cartel. She started out delivering weapons but learned how to make them for a bigger payout. As her daughters grew up, she took bigger, more risky jobs to be able to protect them. One night a rival gang broke into their house and killed the family in cold blood.
-Clara was the first of Carmilla’s daughters to find out about her mother’s secret job, finding her making weapons in the garage when she was about 12 years old. Carmilla asked her to stay silent, but Clara told her older sister immediately.
-She was also the first to enter the family business, stealing a package Carmilla was supposed to deliver to the cartel. Clara delivered it instead and used the money she earned to buy her mother a birthday present. Carmilla told her not to do that, but reluctantly let Clara help with simple, risk free deliveries. Clara was 15.
-Clara befriended one of the cartel members, a bodyguard.
-Clara was the first one to die in the attack. When she was 19, her mother and sister were asleep after watching a movie. Clara was dozing off when she was startled wide awake by pounding on the door.
-Before she could even open it, the door was kicked open, hitting her in the head. She fell, her and her family were quickly grabbed and restrained.
-Clara was dizzy from the hit and confused, she vaguely heard shouting and crying.
-The last thing she saw as a human was her family, her mother’s and sister's faces as she was shot in the chest, the first death in the Carmine home invasion. Clara was 18 when she died.
-Clara’s cause of death was determined to be blunt force trauma to the head, and a fatal shot to the heart.
-She hides the shot mark under her shirt, ashamed of the moment she let her guard down.
LIKES/DISLIKES HEADCANONS.
Foods, colours, animals, and everything in between!
-Food: Anything spicy is a big hit! She hates bland and boring food and will often add peppers or some kind of hot sauce for that perfect kick with every meal! Except for breakfast, she’ll never try cereal with hot sauce again.
-Colours: Black, dark shades of green and blue. She’s not a fan of red, reminding her of the blood she saw on her hands when she died.
-Animals: Wolves, wolves, WOLVES! She loves any canine but mostly wolves! They remind her of how fiercely protective she is over her family! She doesn’t like birds, they creep her out.
-Music: Besides her own music, she loves music from her heritage! Flamenco, salsa, she’ll listen and sing along to it all! Classical music is a BORE though, it always makes her so sleepy.
-Movies: She was never huge on movies, but when she was little, she always watched the movie Balto, dreaming of snow. She hates movies with blood, it reminds her of her own weakness.
-A weird collection she has: Heart shaped stuff! If she’s out in the city and she sees a cool rock shaped vaguely like a heart, she’ll pocket it and show it to her family at home, some of her hearts are questionable, but she loves it all!
-A guilty pleasure: Watching the sunset from her balcony. It’s quiet and simple, she’s loved it since she was a kid.
-Her biggest fear: Being unable to try and protect her family, like when she died. She can’t handle the weak, pathetic feeling, she may have panic attacks when thinking about it.
CHARACTER HEADCANONS
How does Clara fall into the ensemble of hell? Who would she bond with, and who would she hate?
-Who from the entire cast would she hate the most?
The Vees, mainly Velvette, because of how she treats her mother.
-If she met the Hazbin Hotel staff and inhabitants, who would she bond with?
Vaggie, both are strong souls with a tragic past!
-Who would she most likely have a song with? About what?
With her mother and sister, a song about protecting each other no matter what, almost like an “Out for love” reprise
Thank you for reading all the way through!! I’m planning on making way more headcanons in the future! Feel free to ask for specific characters/headcanons in the comments!
A list of future projects:
-Odette Carmine
-Carmilla Carmine
-Zestial Morde
-Lute
-Adam
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wake up, wormblr, it's time for your irregularly scheduled schizopost:
so in an earlier post i discussed the ways in which worm resembles literature of the first world war--its style of violence, its psychoanalytic tropes--but i believe now that that was inaccurate. where i recognized one of worm's defining characteristics (its lack of ideology) i failed to put it in the appropriate theoretical framework. i now understand it is End-of-History Fiction.
i reached this insight while reading about the contemporary mexican civil war: i believe that, just james cameron's Avatar is essentially gillo pontecorvo's The Battle of Algiers repackaged to be sold to an american population incurably brainpoisoned by a century of insidious hollywood plot-structuring, worm is essentially an attempt to repackage the battle between the mexican government and the los zetas drug cartel for a generation of hpmor readers. at the center of worm is, for all intents and purposes, a non-ideological civil war between the commonwealth of massachusetts (although political borders are not a useful concept here, as we shall discuss later) and a whole concatenation of gangs, namely the one of which the undersiders are but one part. but these are not gangs--as in the case of los zetas--that run according to the antiquated patriarchal model as exemplified by the italian mafia; instead, they are entirely sans ideology.
they are, as opposed to the familially or religiously or politically bound criminal/terrorist actors of the twentieth century, essentially an-narco-capitalist in nature. they have no goal but the bottom line. their mode of governing is a return to what foucault would call the society of sovereignty, which defined the feudal era. as reporter seth harp says of the so-called drug war in mexico: "it isn't that the governors are corrupt so much as they are of the cartel." but crucially, this is backed by conspiracies of technocapitalists (cauldron in worm; the united states in the case of mexico). the global circulation of drugs, guns, and money requires a speed only attained through the porousness of borders made possible by neoliberal policies such as NAFTA. both wars are not feudal but neo-feudal.
in his book Specters of Marx, jacques derrida describes the fundamentally christian eschato-teleology of hegel's conception of history, which francis fukuyama adapts and updates for the post-cold war world. this is the method by which worm reconciles its cynical post- or anti-ideology with its messianic content (in the form of taylor, who is far more christlike than moses-like, defined by the sublimated violence engendered by the "turning of the cheek"). post-coil brockton bay is the concretization of the ultimate logic of neoliberal capitalism as anticipated by fukuyama. (remember, hegel did not believe that the victory of the liberal state would end conflict forever; he believed conflict was eternal.)
just as in mexico, brockton bay exemplifies what derrida would call the hauntology of liberal democracy. there is a promise of democracy, an injunction to democracy, but there is no democracy. these words defined the twentieth century, and in the twenty-first, where they have nominally "won," they are not to be found. there is only the farce of khepri.
#wormblr#worm web serial#henghost's schizoposts#thoughts you have on edibles#worm is the 2666 of web fiction
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Heat Chapter 41: Enchantment
Back, back, back again~! Sorry for the long lag with this one. It’s a supersized chapter, at least, so I really hope it’s worth the wait 😊
Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida
Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.
Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞
Word Count: 26,000+
Summary: After your explosive confrontation with Javi concluded in a passionate tempest, you both take the time to regroup. Are your feelings for each other enough to overcome the turmoil of the past?
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of unprotected sex. Mentions of diet and food habits, exercise routines, angst, past trauma, resentments, frustration and emotional stress. Allusions to toxic behavior, negative coping mechanisms, recurring relationship tropes, women's health, personal turmoil and regrets. Soft!Javi, Longing!Javi, and Sensitive!OFC. **OFC name reveal** In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.
Heat Masterlist
Previous chapter - Chapter 40: Hopes
Chapter 41: Enchantment
In the early 1990s, Puerto Rico was besieged with an influx of crime fueled by the drug trade, violence, and trafficking moving through the U.S. territory. There were a whole host of factors that played into the archipelago's woes, and the more one factor was pulled like a thread to its source, the clearer it became that it wasn't even close to being similar to the situation in Colombia.
Really, it could be boiled down to the limbo Puerto Rico and its people floated in for over many decades, if not from as far back as Spain's defeat to the United States during the Spanish-American War. After all, the nebulous status of being a modern-day colony in the late 20th century exacerbated many ills common in other places: poverty, lack of social mobility, and a classist system where the few controlled all the wealth and economic access of the many. But when you're beholden to a federal overlord who was content to keep you at an arm's length, but still shackled from having true self-governance and agency? These ills are only amplified, and become terminal symptoms for a population that are both U.S. citizens, but not truly Americans.
Javi had read up on the history of Puerto Rico. Of course, he knew the basics, and had learned more during his on-and-off again relationship with you, but to read about Operation Bootstrap, and just how much that had changed the smallest of the Greater Antilles? To absorb how a strategic holding in the Caribbean – which had passed imperialist hands for centuries – could be known as La Isla del Encanto, while being ravaged by predatory industries and corrupt fat cats, had been acquired by the U.S. and exploited for most of the 20th century? Well, it all had done little to motivate his zealous ambitions. At least at first.
However, the inevitable happened: his aspiration to leave a place better than he'd found it kept heeding for him to invest more care and attention to what lay ahead. So, after spending his first week as the Special Agent in Charge, Javier found himself voraciously delving into everything before concluding there was a criminal element that controlled the flow of things – a syndicate not unlike that of El Cartel de Cali.
But, where it did differ substantially from the Cali cartel, was in the way the drug trade operated on the big island.
The Puerto Rican Mafia was organized just like it sounds: it was made up of different ranks within La Familia – aka The Family.
Just like the mob, crime families ran different territories, with one central figurehead. However, unlike the mob, members were recruited from all walks of life, and could work their way up through the ranks, but would conduct business operations like a gang. All in order to create a multi-structured network that would make it difficult to dismantle the cartel-level operations.
It was a real puzzle – one Javi was growing more and more intrigued by.
Steve was also getting invested in figuring out strategies for taking down the syndicate, but they both recognized that wouldn't put an end to the drug trafficking in the region.
"…put a bullet in Escobar's head tomorrow? There's just another scumbag that'll fill the vacuum the next day. Is it really worth going off the deep end for?"
And like a cold comfort to his scrupulous intentions, your realistic take slaps him out of his brooding thoughts.
He'd arrived back from doing flyovers of Vieques and Culebra while field analysts pointed out possible drop zones used by drug traffickers to hide product meant for ferrying down to the Lesser Antilles under the cover of night.
Once he'd deboarded from the small plane after it'd taxied into the hangar, Javier strode over to the waiting SUV and gotten in quickly to avoid the rising humidity of the early afternoon.
"Buen día, Agent Peña!" Kike greets in his characteristically jovial way before beginning to drive out towards the security exit.
Grunting in greeting, Javi adjusts the air vents to blow directly on him after discarding is khaki linen blazer to the back seat as he scrubs the heel of his hand across his temple to wipe the perspiration there away. "How is it this fucking hot in winter?" he grumbles more to himself than to the plainclothes-disguised rookie in the driver's seat, who seems unbothered by the heat, even in the stuffy-looking collared stripe shirt and jeans he currently dons.
Snorting, Kike drawls, "It's the humidity. Not usually this high, but things should cool down once the vaguadas roll in early next week. It's going to ruin plenty of Valentine's plans!"
Javier hums as he tugs on the collar of his short-sleeved cotton button down shirt. The mention of Valentine's Day had him ruminating while Kike drove him to the Federal building.
Back in Colombia, Valentine's Day was similar in sentiment as in the states, but was celebrated on a completely different day and time of year. To his chagrin, he's realizing now that during the times you'd dated, every Día de Amor y Amistad fell around either when he'd been on a stakeout, or on assignment in Medellín, so he'd never gotten to do anything special with you.
Sure, this Valentine's fell on a day in the middle of the work week this year, but he was wondering now if he could make up for all those missed schlocky hearts, roses and chocolate-festooned days by taking you out like he'd been yearning to since he got to the island.
The holiday was as big here as it was back home, promoted on the television, plastered across banners on the highway, and he couldn't go into a single place without the garish red and pink hearts or cupids adorning the walls.
He'd wanted to respect your wishes – to let you have the time to think about everything, though, so he'd thrown himself into work and forced himself to pine only when he was alone at the end of the day, staring up at the ceiling fan while he laid in bed.
Today, though, he had business at the Federal building, so he figured he could chance maybe going by to see you? At the very least, it would be good to know where your office was, for completely professional reasons, right?
When he arrived at the building, it was just before lunch time, so there was a decent exodus of people going off campus for the break. As he begrudgingly shrugged on the linen blazer, he told Kike to go on his way and that he'd call if he needed anything, assuring the intrepid officer that he didn't have to hang around waiting for him in the car.
"—You can call my beeper, cell phone, whatever, any time," the man assures.
"I know, Kike. I appreciate it. Now go get lunch and relax," Javi quips wryly as he gestures a casual goodbye before shutting the door and loping off.
Pretty soon, he was entering the DEA offices for a meeting with his Assistant Special Agent in Charge, who was overseeing some surveillance ops he wanted to brief Javi on. Before he'd even finished walking through the bullpen, though, Agent Lopez had practically materialized next to Javi to walk alongside him towards the conference room.
"Boss, glad I caught you—"
"Christ, Nic. Can it wait until I get through this briefing?" Javier grumbles as he fiddles with his now-rumpled shirt collar before smoothening out the flat of his khaki blazer's lapels.
"Well, that's the thing. It's about one of the ops you're gonna hear about in there," Lopez confides to him.
Halting, Javi eyes him before gesturing for him to follow him to a secluded corner before muttering, "All right, shoot."
"I don't think the intel is legit," Lopez tells him before emphasizing in a lower voice, "I think they know we're listening to them."
"…Ok, and why do you think so?" Javi murmurs as he crosses his arms over his chest.
"Just a hunch," Lopez obfuscates.
"You gotta give me more than that," Javi tersely sneers, shaking his head when the other man just glowers at him. "Look, I gave you and Duff tons of latitude back in Cali, and it bit us in the ass. I can't tell this kid his ops are compromised because you have a hunch—"
"Alright, fine, but…Duffy doesn't even know about this. Long story, but I have an informant. Something they said gave me the impression that the target knows his place is being surveilled. So before we take what was gathered from their as actionable intel, I want to make sure I can look into it more," Nic insists, hands on his hips as he leans in to mutter, "And no offense, but your ASAC is thickheaded, and didn't want to hear anything I had to say."
Javier grunts evenly. "Yeah, well…that's an issue for another day."
And really, it was. He couldn't help the fact that his ASAC wasn't really his first choice, but as he'd been learning since he'd arrived in Puerto Rico, being juiced in and having spheres of influence were the way most navigated into appointments and work positions. Almost every major official he'd met or read up on was the cousin, in-law, or 'buen amigo' of someone high up in the government, both locally and federally, so there were plenty of incompetent, arrogant, or willfully clueless people in jobs they had no business being in. And the nepotism? It was so pervasive, that it even put the bit of it he'd experienced in Colombia to shame. There were municipalities around the island almost entirely staffed with family members of the mayor. Let alone all the government officials who had kids who worked in some congressperson's office, or who were related distantly to a miembro del senado.
The whole thing had him learning a new word from Kike.
Chanchú – slang derived from the word chanchullo, which defined an act that was morally illicit, due to intentional fraud or scheming that would earn a person or persons influence, money, or protection. Most chanchús would inevitably become illegal, either due to bribery or corruption, and sadly, Puerto Rico was rife with it.
So, after assuring Lopez he wouldn't sign off on anything until there was more information, Javi went into the conference room and let Ryan Segarra brief him.
Sure, he recognized that it wasn't really fair to call him a 'kid', since they were only 5 or 6 years apart, but Javi couldn't help his opinion of him being just that when the man gave him a self-satisfied look and waited for some form of praise once he concluded his briefing.
Of which, he got none. Instead, Javi remained in his cross-armed posture, but leaned back in the chair, and cocked a skeptical brow at him before checking his watch as he drawled, "So, anything else?"
Seeming put off-kilter, Segarra remarked, "Uh, yeah – the signoff to move forward with raiding the caserío—"
"Denied," Javier flatly responds before pushing his chair back and standing. "That's not enough to sanction a raid. Also, it doesn't sound like you've coordinated anything with the field ops guys—"
"Well, they're not looking to move on anything until there's more info netted," Segarra protests, clearly displeased that his boss doesn't seem impressed.
"Then, if that's the case, why the hell are you pushing for it?" Javier remarks with a flippant, albeit pointed edge to his baritone, one that takes the blue-eyed man with the stubble-covered jaw aback. The look he gives him says everything Javier needs to know, so he goes to exit the conference room as he dismisses, "You're not going to medal for being an overreaching jackboot who storms a public housing unit for some low-level dealers, Segarra. Come back once field ops gets you something that is really actionable."
With that, Javi exits to stride at a clipped pace out of his department and towards the elevator to head up to Digital Information Operations.
Luckily, the entire thing only took part of the lunch hour, so he figured you'd just be coming back from the break to your office. He didn't expect to come off the elevator and traverse the main corridor towards your department, and see Devon gatekeeping the entry while sat at the receptionist's desk, typing on the computer.
"They got you working phones during everyone else's break?" Javi quips after entering from the glass door and surprising the man behind the much-too-smug desk.
"Oh, no! I was just doing a software install for the receptionist while she ran down to grab something at the cafeteria," Devon explains as he maneuvers his broad frame from behind the desk before asking, "Did you have an appointment? I, uh, don't see the log out, so—"
"No, no appointment. I just came up to see where the department was," Javi quickly retorts, and at Devon giving him a musing nod while eyeing him dubiously, he ends up relenting, "And yeah, I was hoping the director was around so I could say hello."
"Oh, she's off-campus for lunch," Devon answers guilelessly as he adds, "She usually brings something from home, but today is her cheat day."
"Ah, is that right?" Javi chuckles, smirking at the idea of you partaking in the same kind of fast-food Steve was raving about indulging in whenever he could sneak it. "Huh, ok then…"
Seeming to sense he was slightly let down at not being able to see you, Devon checked his watch before retrieving something from the communal cubby next to the reception desk.
"Well, if you're up for skipping the cafeteria, this place is nearby and is a favorite around the office," he's remarking as he hands Javi a takeout menu. Looking at it, he hums flatly before he catches Devon giving him a look that was practically a nudge before he remarked, "Definitely check it out."
Smirking, he nodded before folding the pamphlet-style takeout menu and slipping it into his blazer's pocket as he backpedals to the entry. With a friendly wave over his shoulder, Javi calls out coolly, "Thanks for the tip. Have a nice rest of your afternoon!"
You hadn't expected for it to be so busy in the restaurant today, but since you'd become a regular, they'd sat you at a table tucked close to the bar so you could wait out the rush while you busied yourself with your planner. When the dine-in and takeout traffic slowed, you perused the menu before the server came by and took your order.
After your order is placed, you go back to writing reminders for yourself in your planner while you think about how much you'd enjoyed spending time with your father the Sunday before.
He'd avoided any topic that would raise your ire or stoke your combativeness, and you happily filled him in on work and the surface chit-chat about your friends while you cooked. And when all the dishes were ready, you'd both sat on the terraza and enjoyed the meal, managing a pleasant dinner before Camille arrived from the day out with her relatives. The evening had been so nice, that you'd even made an effort by not rushing off like you normally would.
You're just thinking about how much she'd irritated you by bringing up an upcoming anniversary she had no right mentioning, as far as you were concerned, when you dimly hear the bell above the door ring just before the chef behind the counter calls out, "Irasshaimase," in greeting.
Looking up from having just finished storing your planner into your purse to give a cursory glance at the entryway, you end up staring, disarmed, at Javier as he is led towards the tables. He looks so insufferably handsome in his ecru-colored linen suit and plain cotton button-down, sans necktie, with the top three buttons of the collar undone already. The tease of his neck and the flash of his collarbones peeking from the shirt just above the top neckline of a cotton undershirt has titillated excitement bubbling up in you. So much so, that you feel your heart throb and the apples of your cheeks burn with a flustered blush.
When he sees you, he smiles, eyes crinkling with affection as he catalogues how chic you look with your hair up in a sleek ponytail, wearing a light blue polyester blouse with quarter sleeves, sans the black blazer that matches your fitted trouser pant. You watch as he gestures to the host, as if indicating he was going to see if he could join you.
Javier didn't expect for the man to hum before approaching you first, however, in order to ask you in Japanese, "Do you want to share your table?"
Nodding, you respond, "Hai, daijoubu desu."
Javi's so impressed by the exchange that he dimly smiles when the man gestures for him to take a seat.
Once he's sat at the cozy table with you, he greets, "Buenas tardes, directora—"
Leaning forward to give him a suspicious look, you whisper, "I know there's no way you were just out wandering around this time – not in the middle of a work day, anyway – to just so happen to come in here by coincidence."
Smirking, he fiddles with the napkin and the sleeved chopsticks resting on top of it before toying with the little rectangular ramakin idly as he gives you a casual shrug, drawling, "Well, Devon recommended this place today when I stopped in to your office. Figured I'd give it a try."
"Oh, he did, did he?" you ruefully chime as you cross your arms and lean back in your chair, amused.
He nods before giving you a flirty glance, and you just shake your head at him, trying your damndest not to smile as brilliantly as you want to.
"Here is the menu, sir," the server says once he's returned with a glass of water for him to match your own.
Shaking his head, he holds up his hand reassuringly as he orders, "I'll just have what she's having."
"Ah, very good," the server bows and heads off to give the chef the order, while you squint at Javier.
"Um, have you ever had Japanese food?" you ask as he sips the cool iced water.
With a grunt, he shakes his head before remarking, "No, but if this is where you have your cheat day, I trust you to have picked something good to eat."
Snickering, you purse your plush lips sardonically before deadpanning, "Javier—"
"I didn't know you could speak Japanese," he rumbles, eyes molten and smug when you finally crack a smile. "You'll have to teach me some."
"I only know enough for proper restaurant conversation, chavón," you quip as you adjust in your seat so you can cross your leg under the table. "So? How's it been settling into things down here?"
"Not bad. Could be better, though," he remarks with an easygoing sigh before leaning back into his chair to eye you confidently when you hum and tilt your head, truly interested in hearing more. So, he crosses his arms and muses with rugged charm, "I haven't been able to concentrate much. Can't stop thinking about you, or the other night."
You press your lips together to suppress the delighted smirk threatening to crest across your features, feeling tingly from the glee his flirtatious line has sizzling up in your chest. "You mean from how worked up you got on the sofa?" is your deriding lilt, smiling cherubically at him when he frowns.
"Tan mala," he grumbles, but his chiding smirk is infectious. "You're never gonna let me live that down—"
"Why would I? It was the best compliment, knowing I have such an effect on you," is your teasing purr, winking spiritedly at him when he quells a bashful groan into his hand, feigning being gruff about it. "Hopefully you found a dry cleaner who can be discreet—"
"Do you know how hard I had to keep from squirming when I dropped my suits off, and the laundress silently judged me as she handed me the ticket?" he cuts in haughtily, and you can't help giggling at his harried pout.
"I have zero sympathy!" you sass, wrinkling your nose at him when he scoffs in faux shock. "My dress is a classic, so I ended up getting lectured about needing to be more careful with it by the doña who does my dry cleaning—"
"Get the fuck out," Javi chuckles, brown eyes lighting up with glee when you comically nudge your foot against his calf while you scoff. "Well, I can't be held responsible. That dress was a killer," he croons as he reaches over and affectionately squeezes your hand before murmuring, "But if you wear it again, I'll be more careful."
Snickering, you pinch the pressure point in the web of his hand before sneering impishly, "Beyako."
Just as he was about to say something else flirty in retort, the server arrives with your meals. "Here you are!" the man jovially announces as he places the large bamboo platter shaped like a bridge housing all the unfamiliar bounty of food at the center of the table along with the woven canoe-shaped tray filled with two orders of what looked like rounded fritters smothered in savory sauces.
Javi looked at all the food before gaping over at you. "What…is all of this?" is his awed, drawn-out query as he continues to balk at it all while you're pleasantly putting the napkin in your lap before you slip the wooden chopsticks from the paper sleeve in order to expertly snap them apart.
"Well, Mr. Suave, this is a double order of sushi, nigiri, and takoyaki," you chime as you point out each with your chopsticks before indicating row by row, "This is salmon nigiri. These are eel avocado rolls, these are spider rolls, and these yummy little rounded fritters are takoyaki. They have a piece of octopus in the center."
Giving you a perturbed look, he picks up his chopsticks and uses them to point at the center of the platter before he croaks, "Those are made of spiders?!"
You laugh out so brightly, that he instantly relaxes and enjoys how your eyes crest with mirth as your hand demurely cups over your mouth while you try to regain your composure.
"No, you dork! That's just the name. They're made with battered soft-shell crab, cucumber and avocado. But these? They are made with Japanese eel cooked in umami sauce. I promise, it's really tasty!" you assure as you align the ramekin next to your side plate and pour soy sauce into it from the ceramic bottle sitting at the center edge of the table before you pick up a piece of the aforementioned eel roll, dip it into the soy sauce, then pop it merrily in your mouth.
"Ok…if you say so," Javi tentatively mutters as he removes the chopsticks from the sleeve and tries to part them. When you see him struggling to, you reach over and snag them so you can snap them apart cleanly for him before handing them back. Smirking, he nips at his bottom lip lightly before he begins to drawl in a purr, "Thanks, mi patrona—"
"Quit flirting and start eating, chulito," you snipe playfully before picking up one of the octopus fritter balls and offering it to him.
He lets you feed him the fritter, and immediately grunts from how piping hot it is in the center. You giggle and eat your own piece, savoring it while Javi chews like a suspicious child, waiting for the bad flavor to hit.
When it doesn't, he hums neutrally before grabbing a sushi piece. "So, most of this is raw?" he queries as he struggles to use the chopsticks to pinch the piece securely.
"Actually, only the salmon nigiri is. Everything else is cooked," you tell him as you fondly watch him intrepidly try to maneuver the chopsticks, but he ends up fumbling the piece onto its side. "Here, this is the technique. You tuck them this way so you make more of a pincer motion when you grab for the piece. See?"
Following along, he manages to get the hang of it enough to move the piece from the platter to his plate. "This is a lot of work, guapita," he jokes as he gives you a puppy-eyed look. "How is this even a 'cheat day' worthy meal?! It's all fish—"
"Well, it's a lot of rice! I've tried cutting carbs out of my diet, and while the fish is mostly lean protein, the batter and the rice are what makes this a cheat-day-worthy feast," you explain, and finally take pity on him struggling to get the piece up, so you grab it easily with your chopsticks and offer to feed it to him, all while cheekily smiling as you chime, "Guess it figures you'd come around every time I indulge in something I shouldn't be."
Javi eats the piece, chewing it and savoring the odd texture, but scowls more from your remark than how exotic the flavor is to his taste buds. Once he's swallowed, he dabs the napkin over his lips before murmuring, "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Well, when it comes to keeping to a disciplined routine? It kind of is a bad thing," you retort aloofly before sipping your water.
Genuinely frowning now, Javi grumpily abandons the chopsticks onto his side plate and just grabs a piece of sushi with his forefinger and thumb before popping it into his mouth.
You sputter a silly giggle and snicker a haughty sound at him.
"That's impolite!"
"I'm hungry and these sticks are a pain!"
"I'll tell them to bring you a fork, then—"
"Never mind that. I can manage—"
"Ay, Javier. Let me help you—"
"You don't need to keep feeding me pieces like I'm an overgrown baby in a high chair—"
You stifle a laugh into the back of your hand and just simper, "Awww, well then quit acting like a bebito, you silly gruñón!"
He scoffs and pugnaciously picks up another piece of sushi with his fingers in order to dip it into your soy sauce before he pops it goadingly into his mouth.
"Oh, you're lucky I'm more concerned about wasting all this food than I am with your terrible table manners, tough guy," is your faux huff as you stubbornly smack his hand away when he tries to drag your soy sauce dish closer to his side of the table. "Uh-uh! You have your own. No dipping in mine."
Chewing his current bite puckishly while he pours some soy sauce into his own ramekin, Javi eyes you in a way that makes warmth fizzle effervescently in your tummy.
Gaze appraising you thoughtfully now, Javi licks his lips before asking, "Besides our little row last week…how have things been? Being back down here, and in the new job, I mean. Things are good?"
Nibbling on a fritter, you take the opportunity to think about how to answer that, unsure how much you want to say with things still feeling so tenuous—
"I never meant to come here and derail things," Javi says when you get pensive instead of answering, and after you glance back up at him, he decides to confide, "You seem…content, so, if me just being here is going to affect that? I want to know, querida."
You feel a pang tug at your heart at his words, so you let down your guard, and look him in his tense brown eyes as you assure, "Things are great right now, Javi. After I resigned from the embassy, I wasn't sure what would happen. But then I got a call with the job offer here, and the rest sort of fell into place. My father and I, we reconciled, and we're both good. It's not perfect, but I don't think it'll ever be…"
He listens as you end up telling him about all the highlights he'd missed since your time apart. From the wedding in New York, to the arrival of Ellis and Anita's first-born, as well as the wonderful time during the holidays you got to spend with your family when they visited from Colombia.
It makes him feel good to know that you had so many great people around you here, who loved and cared about you. But he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, where you'd say, 'And you being here is something I can't fit into my life. Not after everything.'
Instead, he's surprised when you admit, "—While I was livid when Ellis told me, something about it also felt…different and new."
Idly peeling the clustered ginger slivers stacked on the platter apart with your chopsticks, you allow your stream of consciousness to continue unselfconsciously with, "I've thought about it more, and really, things are totally different from what happened the last time, in Colombia. Everything was so fraught all the time, and keeping it all safe and secret just put so much pressure on us," pausing, you glance up at him with a meek smile before musing, "Here and now? Well, it's just not the case, since…everyone knows. Albeit the distorted, gossipy rendition that's been passed around for months and distilled into a simpler narrative. But still…it didn't feel as stifling, finding out the way I did. And understanding things in hindsight now helped."
Javi can't suppress the charming quirk of his brows and upward tug of his full lips, before drawling, "So, you're saying there's a chance?"
It has the intended outcome, causing you to crack a smile and snicker, shaking your head sardonically before you jab, "That's all you picked up from that whole thing?!"
"No, but it was the most important," he jibes and winks at you.
Humming imperiously, you take a long drink of water before sneering in jest, "It's almost like you want me to kick your ass, with how infuriating you behave when you should instead be humbly groveling—"
"I've literally begged you to give me another chance every time we've talked," he laconically mutters and pops a piece of nigiri into his mouth now, chewing pointedly while you taunt him with the pleased pert of your lips. Swallowing quickly in order to grumble tersely at your goading look, he mutters haughtily, "I groveled, and even got slapped silly for it—"
"What time is it?" you coolly change the subject as you nibble on the last piece of nigiri.
Grunting and narrowing his gaze grouchily, he looks at his watch.
"Whoops. Ten after lunch time," he responds before polishing off the remaining few pieces of sushi while you hum and unhurriedly finish the last takoyaki. "Did you walk here? I could call my guy to come pick us up—"
"No, that's ok. I strategically block off the half hour after lunch so I can catch up on messages or the like. I have some time," you retort before taking a piece of ginger and savoring it with a hum as you signal the server to bring the check.
"What's that?" Javi asks after seeing you eat the ginger from where it's sat on the now-empty sushi platter.
You're retrieving your purse from the back of your chair as you reply distractedly, "That's a palette cleanser. Some people put it directly on the sushi to heighten the flavor."
"Ah, ok," he remarks, reaching over to grab the little mound of bright green paste next to the slivers of ginger.
You look up from your open wallet just in time to see what he's doing. Gasping, you warn, "Javi, that's not—!"
Too late, Javier's popped the entire portion of wasabi into his mouth with his fingers before smearing it over the roof of his mouth with the flat of his tongue. Looking up at your wide-eyed grimace just as the burn of the condiment singes across his taste buds and makes him grunt in disgruntled surprised, he rushes to put his napkin to his nose when he feels the spice shoot up his sinuses.
Not wanting to spit out into his napkin and come off as even bigger of an oaf, he swallowed it thickly before grabbing his water to chug it down.
"Oh my god," you're wheezing in between simpering giggles as you quickly hand him the rest of your water and signal for the server to bring more. "I can't believe you just ate that whole thing!"
Chugging your water down and wordlessly grumbling at you, Javi feels his cheeks flush from the spice after it flooded his nasal passages and eyes, making them both water. "You said it was a palette cleanser!" he bemoans before greedily guzzling the water the server just filled into his glass.
"No, I said the ginger slivers were a palette cleanser!" you counter while forcing yourself not to dissolve into a fit of laughter.
Managing to take advantage of his distraction to hurriedly hand over your card to pay the check, you grab his hand before he rubs it across his face.
"Wait! You touched it with your fingers. Don't get it in your eyes," is your admonishing tut as you dip your napkin in your empty glass to sop up enough moisture to improvise a wet nap so you can clean his fingers with it.
"Me lleva la chingada," he grits out as you dutifully sit up from your seat to retrieve a handkerchief from your purse so you can dab the clean cloth at the corners of his eyes for him. "And it was all going so well," is his hoarse, wry grumble, which earns a flitting laugh to bubble free from you.
The server asks if everything is all right, and Javi nods while dopily flashing a thumbs up as you continue to tend to the tears running over from his eyes, and assure the man that he's ok.
A few minutes and a to-go cup of ice water in hand later, and you're both exiting the restaurant.
"—I'm so sorry, Javi. I should've called it out before," you're fretting as you take his forearm and lead him out to the sidewalk.
"Well, at the very least now, I know that if you ever want to kill me, it'll be by poisoning," he sarcastically jokes as he wipes the hankey over his eyes before accepting the offered cup of water from you.
"I'd actually say this should inspire you to be more careful with what you just shove in your mouth, jodón," is your snarky jibe as you affectionately brush the curls back from flopping across his forehead while he grunts and scowls mordantly at you. "And I would never poison you. Where's the fun in that?"
He scoffs amusedly at that before handing you the cup of water so he can pocket your hankey and feel for his cell phone. "I'll call to get us a ride—"
"It's not very far to the Federal campus," you find yourself volunteering, and at his agog expression, you suggest, "I know it's a bit muggy out, but if we stay on this side of the avenue, we'll be under the shade of the trees all the way down. And with traffic, we'd get there a lot sooner than he'd be able to get over here to pick us up."
Feeling something warm twinge behind his sternum at how you're in no rush to part ways, even after crashing and derailing your quiet lunch, Javi feels encouraged and accepts with a smile, shedding his blazer as he rumbles, "Alright, but I'm sweating like a hog—"
You take the blazer before he can fling it casually over his shoulder to instead fold, and tuck it to hang around your purse before nodding for him to follow your lead as you chime, "Come on before I change my mind, refunfuñón."
Smirking, Javi falls into step with you, and you both stroll down the sidewalk of the avenue's shady eastern side. As you go, he finishes the water in the cup and starts chewing on the ice while he banters, "You walk to the restaurant in this heat without a bother, but you couldn't handle that one heatwave in Bogotá?"
"I told you! That was more stifling heat and humidity at a higher elevation," you counter and playfully nudge your shoulder into the side of his arm. "At least here you get a breeze every once in a while. And there's always a rainstorm that'll cool things down a bit," is your easygoing musing, before you scathe wryly, "And anyway, you're literally wearing a half-unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt, so quit complaining."
It's the perfect excuse to give him a stern leer and silently drool over his toned arms and broad shoulders while he scoffs and slicks the hair back from his forehead.
"Yeah well, you're friolenta. I run hotter than you," he tuts matter-of-factly before crunching on another piece of melty ice. "It's so hot down here, I left all my jackets back home—"
"Even the leather one?" you query with a pout, which gets him to chuckle and nod. "Well, this is a nice suit, in any case," is your amiable chime as you adjust his draped blazer on your purse, before teasingly drawling, "…Nice to see you finally spruced your wardrobe up for the current decade—
"Criticona," he rumbles and nudges his shoulder into you, which makes you squeak and slap his bicep with a laugh, which makes him chuckle and bite his lip to stop from grinning. "But sure, yeah, I got a few new suits. Maybe I'll let you peruse them next time you come over?" is his flirted proposition before crunching on the last piece of ice and depositing the paper cup into a trash receptacle on the corner you've both arrived at and need to wait for the pedestrian light to switch green.
Giving Javi a coy glance, you sass, "See? You gripe about me teasing you over your clothes, but you always seek out my fashion expertise and crave my approval." When Javi shoots you a humorously defiant look, you razz, "I think you really bought the new suits because you've been working out and your old blazers are now too snug. Am I right?"
Javi's mouth bobs open to contradict you, but he realizes he can't, because that was partly true, so instead he squints cunningly at you before crooning, "Have you been checking me out, bravita?"
Expression lighting up with surprise at how quickly he turned the teasing around on you, the tickle of excitement that skitters into your core has you feeling overheated now, even with the nice breeze that billows through the lush canopies overhead. The cool air filters his cologne and the hint of his sweaty skin to you, and you watch as his dark brewed eyes flutter, unaware that the waft of your own perfume has him feeling warm and fuzzy.
The crosswalk light finally changes to green, so you hitch your purse strap high on your shoulder in order to tuck it and his blazer to your side as you lean close to him now.
"Well, it's been kind of hard not to notice," you silkily murmur whilst you trail your fingertips teasingly down his chest to skim all the way to where the shirt is tucked into his pants, emphasis on the operative word you purred as your touch brushes over his taut tummy.
The way Javi's breath hitches and his eyes get dark is exactly what you were looking to rile out of him, so you smile enchantingly before turning to trot down the crosswalk, shooting him a coquettish glance over your shoulder when he stays rooted in his spot.
"You coming, stud?"
Javier takes a cleansing breath and reins the impulse to run over and sweep you up in his arms so he can instead sprint over and take your hand bossily in order to thread it in the crook of his arm as he escorts you across the street to the next shady sidewalk.
"Atrevida," he growls into your ear, and you triumphantly hold your head high as he reluctantly lets your hand go once you've fallen back into your casually ambling step, only for you to surprise him by brushing the back of your palm against his before slipping your hand to take his much larger one, giving it a flirty squeeze.
He stares down at it before looking fawningly at you, smiling when you let him interlace his fingers with yours.
Not wanting to jinx a thing, Javi relishes just walking hand-in-hand the few minutes left in comfortable silence all the way back to the main gate of the Federal campus, content by the affectionate way you squeeze his hand from time to time as you both stroll together.
That is, until it's time to cross over to the western side of the avenue.
You hand him his blazer so he can retrieve his security pass while you both hustle across once traffic slows, and then dig through your purse for your own credentials while he follows you to the entry to get let through the gate.
He wants so badly to ask you out – hell, to kiss you right here and now as you're both loping up the walkway towards the building, but knows he shouldn't. Not so close to the offices, and definitely not when he can already feel glances from the few employees that are milling about as you both near the doors leading into the sprawling foyer and security reception desk.
You're so poised and unruffled, though, and he gets distracted by how you casually smile up at him that he doesn't even notice Kike as he walks by. The rookie is in the outer entry, flirting one of the workers sitting on a cement bench, and only pauses when he catches Javier's eye.
He's about to call out and wave, but notices he's not alone, so he gestures to the office worker that he'll talk to her more some other time so he can rush over, eager to pepper Javier with questions, when he slows at seeing you turn to Javier with a serene look relaxing your features as you gaze up into his soulful brown eyes.
"I enjoyed the impromptu lunch, chavón. So sorry again about the wasabi!" you tell him irreverently as you make a silly grimace.
"Ah, no harm done. I don't think I'll ever have allergies again, and I'm pretty sure I can smell colors now, so," he jibes with a shrug, and you snicker irreverently at him. "And anyway, you can just make it up to me—"
"Huh, it's always some quid pro quo with you, agente," you banter back before gesturing you have to go, as you muse, "Next meeting's in a few, so, gotta run. Have a good rest of your day."
Nodding, he shrugs on his blazer before digging your handkerchief from his pocket and calling out, "Oh, here, forgot to give this back—"
You smile and motion with your hand for him not to worry whilst waltzing towards the doors as you say convivially, "You keep it. With your spicy food track record, it might come in handy soon enough."
Snorting, Javi pockets the soft hankey as he watches you go. He feels wistful and glad, mind already thinking about when he can possibly see you next, when a catcall-like whistle sounds from his left as Kike approaches.
"Wow, que mami más dura," he whispers conspiratorially to Javi, who shakes his head humorously as he turns to lope towards where Kike left the car. "No disrespect! Just, wow…very beautiful. Way to go, boss—"
"Don't let her hear you calling her any of that, if you know what's good for you," Javi laconically deadpans as he gets in the car.
" ¡Chacho, claro que no!" Kike assures after he's gotten in the driver's seat, smirking in solidarity with Javi as he turns the car on and gives him a goofy look, as if to say, 'Game recognize game!'
The rest of your day goes by quick, thanks to your mind wandering every so often to how much you'd wanted to throw your arms around Javier's shoulders and kiss him silly.
Everything felt different. Sure, it was undeniable that you both had a knack for reliving the same back and forth – rehashing old patterns that made you wary of trusting again. But there was a big part of you now – one wiser to what you were tired of denying – that felt secure enough to be able to let your guard down around him again. To disregard resentments towards allowing him back into your life, and placate the worries you have about ending up right back in the same place you were, so many months ago: alone, heartbroken, and lost.
However, you wanted to ease into this. Well, whatever this was going to be, now that you both were in a new place together, surrounded by the knowing eyes of coworkers and other agency officials alike. Not to mention the surreptitious awareness of your father that seemed to permeate even the least-expected corners of your day-to-day life.
Oh god. Would Javi even want to deal with any of that?
Stowing the thought away, you make it down to the ground floor from the elevator now at the end of the workday, eager to get home and veg out in front of the TV on your lazy cheat day, when you notice a certain blond trekking to the exit across the way from you.
"Hey, Murphy!"
Steve freezes at hearing his name called so informally, and whirls around with a scowl on his features before comically blinking at you and getting tense when he sees you march over to him.
"Oh, hey!" Steve greets in that smooth rasp of his, smile lopsided as he idly fidgets his weight from one foot to the other. "How're things—?"
"Tell me something, Steven. Back when you first got here? And we ran into each other in the lobby and caught up? You knew Javier was coming down here the whole time, right?" you bossily inquire as you cross your arms and lean your weight onto one hip as you tap your foot.
Hedging, he stammers good-naturedly, "I mean, y-yeah, technically, but I couldn't mention it—"
"Hm, is that so?" you jeer, eyes narrowing on him and actually making him edgy with anticipation. "You're on my shitlist for that, dude. And, I expect you to make it up to me by arranging a double date so I can meet Connie and befriend her," is your suddenly wily proclamation as you smirk mischievously at him now, enjoying how his dumbfounded expression melts into wry shock. "Sound like a plan?"
Grinning, he amusedly nods and assures, "Damn straight, it does. I'll see to it, hun."
"Good," you chime before leaning up and pecking his cheek platonically before breezing by him to the exit. "Have a nice night, Steve."
"You too, Celina," he snorts as he watches you go, marveling at how good you had him sweating there for a minute.
Luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait long to fill his partner in on the whiplash-inducing encounter, thanks to Javi having agreed to come over for dinner that night.
He waited until a lull in the conversation not taken up by the kids pulling everyone's attention to them, to finally remark, "So, I had an interesting run-in today."
Javi looks up from the page of the coloring book he was currently helping Olivia fill in to see Steve was directing the comment to him.
"Oh?" he drawls before snickering when Olivia got impatient and took the green crayon from him in order to finish coloring in the tree.
Grunting intriguingly, Steve leans back in his chair to conspiratorially rasp to Connie as she feeds the baby a bottle, "Don't know what he did, but Javi's girl marched up to me and had me sweating when she confronted me about not having mentioned knowing that he was coming down here. Just when I thought she was gonna squash me like a bug, she said I needed to make it up to her by arranging a double date."
Smiling impishly, Connie looks over at Javi's stunned expression. "Great! It's long overdue. Just need to coordinate with the babysitter—"
"Wait – when did she say this?" Javi asks in a hushed tone and shifts in his seat to cup his cheek and lean his elbow onto the table, so not to distract the little girl sat next to him from her furious coloring.
"End of day when I was heading out," Steve retorts and crosses his arms casually before adding, "She also said I was on her s-h-i-t list, and that the double date is so she can befriend Connie."
Javier snorts and shakes his head as he tosses himself back into his chair. "Oh, great. That's all we need: the two of them getting in cahoots—"
"That's right. And what would be so wrong with that, hm?" Connie counters quippingly as she shifts the baby to her shoulder so she can burp her.
"Not a thing," Javi chuckles and shrugs before going to lean back over to resume watching Olivia color the once blank flower-filled park using bright colors from her crayon box.
Steve notices how lighter Javier's been since after the happy hour at the hotel. He'd figured something had occurred, but in true fashion, the man was mum about it. Every time he'd tried to coax it out of him, all he'd gotten was a musing, 'I'll tell you once there's something worth telling.'
"Would this be the first official date, then?" Steve fishes, as he busies himself with collecting the empty plates on his and Connie's side of the table.
Looking up with a frown, Javi hums, "…Damn, it would be—"
"That's a bad word, uncle Javi. You need to put a quarter in the swear jar!" Olivia suddenly pipes up and gives him a doe-eyed look that is more precocious thanks to the little smile on her lips. "Once it's filled up, we can get ice cream!"
Javi laughs, already going into his pocket for the change. "Well, here. Put it in the jar for me, would yah?" is his gentle chuckle as he hands her the quarter.
Merrily getting up to go do so, Olivia tots into the living room to plop the coin into the jar with the rest of the change.
After the table is cleared, Connie puts the baby down in her crib and helps Olivia get ready for bed while Javier and Steve remain at the kitchen table, pouring over case files for a bit.
Truthfully, though, Javi keeps getting distracted with thoughts of you. After a half hour of that, Steve notices and decides to suggest just picking it back up the following day when they're both scheduled to be at the office at the same time.
"Go home, you lovesick fool," he can't help haze as he walks Javi to the door a few minutes later. "And about that morning jog—"
"Nope. You're not backing out," Javi cuts in and claps him on the back before tutting, "I'll be at your door at 6, bud."
Huffing noisily, Steve relents and wishes him a good night.
You're not thinking a damn thing about working out the next morning, not with how nice and comfy you are, curled up on your couch with some mini chocolate chip cookies you're nibbling on as you watch a sitcom on cable while clad in a loose-fitting lounge-friendly top and short set.
The balcony slider is open to let in the nice cool breeze, and you're enjoying how it lulls over your skin with the help of the slow circulating ceiling fan above. So much so, that you have to shake yourself back to sharp awareness from staring tiredly at the television when your cell phone starts ringing on the side table next to you.
Setting the bag of cookies aside and shifting up to reach for it, you press the button to pick up the call before bringing it to your ear. "Hello?"
"I'm not interrupting anything important, am I, jefa?" is the honeyed baritone drawl on the other end, which instantly unearths a warm tingle to zing through you and a charmed smile to tug broadly across your face.
"No. Although, just like I said earlier, you have a knack for materializing in some way when I'm indulging," you remark in a playful lilt as you shift up on the sofa to pull your knees against your chest when he hums interestedly.
"Oh? What're you snacking on? No, wait – let me guess," Javi smoothly charms before offering, "Chocolate? Or maybe cookies?"
You chuckle, licking your bottom lip before chirping, "Both. Chocolate chip cookies."
"Yum," is his raspy hum. "Sounds like a successful cheat day, all things considered, hermosa."
Snickering, you lean back into the cushion as you muse, "I'll be paying for it tomorrow. You doing ok, post-wasabi disaster?"
"All good. Well, except for my gringo partner letting me know he had a mighty tough run in with a feisty boss lady today—"
"Ah, so that's what's inspired this call," you impishly snicker before following up curiously, "Did that seem like a fair request?"
"It did. Connie loved the idea, so we'll definitely do it," Javi retorts assuredly, then murmurs with baritone like honeyed gravel, "But, before then, I was hoping you'd be interested in going out, just you and me?"
You feel your heart summersault at the proposition, but hedge a bit before asking, "Oh? What would you like to do?"
Freshly showered and only in a pair of loose-fitting boxers, Javi lays more comfortably in order to stretch out on his bed, then pins the cell phone with his shoulder so it stays perched to his ear as he toys with the soft handkerchief before raising it to his nose to scent your delicate perfume from it.
Picturing you when you were smiling at him in front of the building earlier that day, Javi croons smoothly, "Well, I haven't really seen El Viejo San Juan yet. Maybe you can show me around, be my tour guide? You did say the murrallas in Cartagena didn't really compare to, what was it—?"
"El Morro," you finish, and by your tone, he can tell you're smiling. "I can't believe you remembered that—"
"Well, you left an intriguing impression, querida," he husks as he dotingly clutches the handkerchief in his palm and rests it against his chest. "Are you free after work tomorrow? I could come pick you up at your place, and we can do an early evening stroll," is his cool proposal, trying to keep the eagerness out of his tone.
There's a quiet couple of seconds on the other line before you sigh, and answer, "Yeah, I'm free. Your driver gonna tag along—?"
"Nope. Tomorrow I'm picking up the requisitioned car I got for personal use. The rookie's only gonna drive me during the week to meetings," he tells you as he rolls over to retrieve his little book from his nightstand before asking you for your address. Once you've given it to him, he suggests, "Pick you up around 6?"
"Sure. I'll meet you out front," you answer in a relaxed timbre, before adding, "Oh! And be sure to wear comfortable clothes, especially practical shoes."
"So no heels?" he jokes, and you scoff derisively. "I'll see you tomorrow, preciosa."
"Ok. Goodnight, chulito. Bye."
Javier lays flat on the bed and smiles up at the ceiling.
That effervescent, warm feeling fills his chest when he thinks about getting to see you again, and keeps fizzling up throughout the next day every time his mind wanders to the plan after work.
Luckily, he has Steve to keep towing him back from daydreaming.
The wryly smirking blond just tossed a paperclip at him from his side of the conference table, which pulled Javi back from his pining thoughts to squint questioningly at him.
"I said, the bust in St. Thomas was too big for it to all have come from speed boats, so I'm thinking there's gotta be some other transport that's moving large quantities of coke through that corridor. Any ideas?" Steve says in a musing drone, tapping his pen idly over the stack of files he's been reading.
With a shrug, Javi retorts, "Cali used to fly it in on cargo aircrafts. Before that, Medellín couriered it across the Caribbean in small planes, then ferried it up through Florida by speedboat. Might be a combination here? So maybe we check flight manifests? Most Cessnas flying out of the big island don't get inspected for cargo."
"Yeah, but still. That's a lot of flights back and forth. Definitely would draw attention," Steve grumbles as he looks over the total weigh-in for the seized bust. "And supposedly that area came up clean in a surveillance sweep just a week prior, so no way a bunch of planes and speedboats could bring in five tons like that in such a short window—"
Javi sits up and pulls one of the transport maps for large vessels that dock in ports off each island after stopping at one of the two major import and export depots on the big island of Puerto Rico. Staring at it, he grunts and traces his fingers to delineate a route to Steve as he thinks out loud, "Maybe they're not using either, and it's one of the container ships? Look, this shipping lane goes right by the area they found the stash. So, they empty a container here in Yabucoa, fill it up with the coke after and put it on a container ship. No customs checks, and they get it over in a day or so, if the seas aren't rough."
"Ok, but the waters are too shallow for them to go to any other makeshift port," Steve is looking at the bathymetric map before pointing to the specific sea floor depth for that corridor. "See? That means they're either unloading the container at the main port, or while they're still at sea somewhere?"
Crossing his arms and pondering, Javi stares at the maps, unsure of what would be the most likely possibility. "Shit…if the container makes it to the port, that means they have someone in customs helping get it out without being checked and transporting it on a truck out to this drop location. Or, the vessel makes an unscheduled stop somewhere mid-transit to unload the container off to another boat that then smuggles it the rest of the way," he pauses to look up at Steve with a scowl before muttering, "Either way, that's really fucking bad for us."
Nodding in reluctant agreement, Steve exhales as he scrubs his hand across his cheek. "Yep. Means we have a bigger corruption problem here than we thought," is his huff before checking his watch. "Is it bad you and I are still doing this shit ourselves when we have assistant special agents in charge who could be doing the heavy lifting?"
"Yeah, well, I like doing my own work. Plus, my guy is a pain in the ass," Javi laconically sneers as he reaches for his coffee mug and drinks while Steve chuckles at his expense.
"I'd trade yah, but Petersen is decent, so far, and he's out on St. John," Steve remarks, amused when Javier rolls his eyes and starts sifting through documents in his folder for something. "If you don't like Segarra, just have him reassigned."
"He's got an uncle that works in the governor's cabinet, so that's not really an option, unless he royally fucks up," Javi grumbles, before evenly quipping, "Wanna trade SAC roles?"
Snorting, Steve picks up his stuff and pockets his pen as he drawls, "So you'd want to take monthly trips out to the islands and be away from your girl?"
Glowering, Javi shakes his head as he deadpans, "Yeah, on second thought? Screw that."
Steve laughs as he heads to the door with a parting goodbye chuckled over his shoulder.
It's just then that Javi finds the document he'd been looking for, and reads from it as he collects the folder and his blazer, multitasking scanning the numbers of seizures in the last six months with hustling back to his office.
How the hell are they pulling this off? They'd have to pay off the dock manager, customs, an entire crew on the ship—hell, someone in the government, even. But that would be so brazen, even all things considered. Not to mention funneling the money around quickly and cleanly without setting off alarms with the banking institutions here, Javi is pondering as he goes. It doesn't seem sophisticated, but they really are operating like a mafia down here. And like any mafia, they've clearly found a way to clean their money, so maybe if we find that, the rest of this will start to make more sense.
His ruminating thoughts are interrupted by a knock on his office's door. "Come in."
"You got a sec, boss?" Lopez asks after poking his head in. Once Javi's nodded and waved him in, the agent saunters through and sits in one of the seats in front of the desk. "So, I know you shut down that raid the ASAC had been pushing for, but now Duffy just got word from his contact in the Guardia Nacional that they're coordinating a sting operation, off the books, with the local municipal police. It seems kind of suspicious that all of a sudden, the same raid is gonna happen with the locals," is his gruff charge.
"Fucking hell," Javi grouses as he rubs his hand over his mouth testily while he thinks. "Any chance they were tipped off by someone on our side?"
"I mean…this seems punitive," Lopez mutters, the accusation unspoken, but clear to Javi. Segarra is making a power play.
"Alright…I'll make a few calls," Javier huffs, already beyond aggravated. "What about your informant? Anything else there?"
"Yeah. They've basically said the caserío is just a decoy. They don't conduct real business there and the drugs that do move through there are for the smaller dealers who are trying to make a name for themselves in order to get into the larger crew," Lopez explains, adding, "If we raid the place, it'll just confirm their suspicions and undo any opportunity to really track the cartel's dealings with the street gangs."
Nodding, Javi thanks Lopez and tells him to keep his ear to the ground.
Once the man exits his office, Javier then calls the lead commander for the National Guard on the island, who then dials in the head of the municipal police the public housing unit in question resides in, and in not so many words, tells both men that they better not go through with the raid, or else he will tell the governor's office they acted against the DEA's protocols.
And as expected, the municipal captain griped, "We got the tip from your ASAC, so I thought this was an interagency partnership?"
Assuring the man that his ASAC did not have the authority to coordinate such a thing, and to please make sure they always reach out to him first if anything similar occurs, Javi got both their commitments and confirmations that the sting would not take place.
Furious, Javi got up from his desk and stormed out of his office.
The DEA department was busy with phone chatter and typing as he stalked through the space towards the ASAC's office on the opposite side of the wing, and many couldn't help notice how imposing he looked as he went, making it a point to avoid crossing his path. He knew his reputation from Colombia preceded him, and he didn't care, especially now as he barged into his assistant's office and slammed the door behind himself while the man balked at him from his desk.
"I-let me call you back," the other man rushed into the phone quickly before hanging it up and gaping at Javier. "Boss, what's up—?"
"I'm going to tell you this only once. You ever go over my fucking head or around my back again, I'll make sure you get busted down to rookie agent and shipped off to a real fucking hellhole your uncle won't be able to win you favor in," Javi thunders before snapping when Segarra begins to deny, "Don't even bother bullshitting me. I spoke to the locals, and they confirmed you tipped them off on that caserío point. They know now not to listen to anything coming from DEA unless it comes from my fucking mouth. I don't give a damn who you're related to. The next time you step out of line, you better have your shit packed already so you can go work for your uncle as a goddamned gopher. You got me?"
Segarra looked like he'd been steamrolled and doused in lemon juice after that, so all he could muster was a jerky nod and croaked, "Y-Yes, sir. Sorry, sir!"
Without a second look, Javi turns on his heels and storms out of the man's office, throwing the door open so roughly that it banged into the wall with a loud slam.
The office chatter muted around him as he traversed through the department back the way he came with another sharp slam of his door.
While the whispered murmurs began to hum between cubicles and filter over to the agent bullpen down the way, you were just wrapping up another assessment of the current network bandwidth post-onboarding.
Everything went fairly smoothly, except for the problem you knew you could no longer ignore: the nepotism factor.
There were staff members in the operations division overall that weren't exactly qualified to do the work required for the position they filled, but had been placed there nonetheless by well-meaning friends and families in high-up places who'd called in favors for their son or the like to be acomodado.
El acomodo was to be placed in a job or occupation. While typically that usually hinged on having the credentials or experience that would make for the proper fit in said job or occupation, in Puerto Rico, it was usually the opposite. Or at the bare minimum, someone's résumé was juiced up enough to make them passing on paper to fill the role, even at the detriment of more qualified candidates. Acomodando someone could even include placing a kid in an elite school or program that was competitive. It was often seen as a harmless grift, albeit unfair, but when it escalated into favoritism or favors – political, financial, or reputational – it often eroded public trust. However, it was a dirty not-so-secret, and every time a scandal broke, it would burn out until the next quid-pro-quo was revealed by the local news.
While you've worked very hard to get to where you are today, there is a part of you that feels guilty to have been privileged enough to get into good schools and had good words put in for you. It also doesn't help that you have no doubt that your father has used his influence to remove obstacles from your path. He would never admit it, though, but you felt it at times by the way people would greet you, or know to reference him to you in some way.
For the most part, you'd avoided that in Colombia. But back here? You were hard pressed to not run into someone who knows of your father, either by reputation or direct association. You could blame it on his unique surname, or the way he's successfully networked to make himself a person of reputation across all echelons.
Being the first and only Puerto Rican to become a Vice Admiral in the U.S. Navy didn't hurt either, sure.
Annoyed with yourself at having to start making the arrangements you'd been hoping to avoid regarding the personnel adjustments needed, you allow your mind to wander to your early evening plans with Javi.
You were excited to see him again, and looking forward to taking him around Old San Juan, but part of you was anxious about moving too fast. It only compounded when you recalled his words to you that night.
"I came here for you…I came here to be withyou, Celina…"
Your heart squeezed in your chest every time you thought about it, and while your feelings hadn't stopped burning for him, there was a weary part of you afraid of letting your love overtake you again. Like it had every other time before you and Javi found your way back to each other, only to be flung apart by some chaotic circumstance that hadn't been in your control. It didn't help that part of you questioned how serious he was. After all, he'd said he didn't care about the job – had practically implied he'd only taken the SAC position in order to come to Puerto Rico to get you back.
Even if that was the case, you didn't know how to feel about that. It was flattering, but scary, but exasperating, but overwhelming to think that he would be so flippant with his career all because his motives were focused elsewhere, let alone that you were seemingly the only reason he'd taken the job. That he intended to orbit you in the hopes your gravitation would draw you back to each other once again.
Your ambivalence wasn't helped by how unsure you were with yourself. There was something raw and yearning within you that wanted to leap back into his arms and profess your love eternal, but the skittish, protective force that kept your walls up couldn't drop its guard like that, no matter how much you believed Javier now that he hadn't intended for things to go as bad as they had. No, it was all too muddled by your own insecurities, leaving you questioning whether you were even worthy of his passion and devotion.
What if he realizes he's made a mistake? That he's just as miserable being back in the DEA and dealing with the shit here than he was before, and doesn't want to put up with all the hassle of being with you? Of the scrutiny and judgment of it being known by all that we're together? What if he expects so much more now from you, and you can't give him what he needs?
What if I don't deserve him?
If Javier knew how tangled up you were about the unspoken things remaining between you both, and how much it was weighing on your heart, he'd be going about things totally different with you right now.
Instead of rushing through astounding amounts of traffic to get to your apartment on time, he would've gone to get a ring, gotten down on one knee, and assuaged you of any doubts in your head that he didn't want anything else in the world but to be with you forever. But, quite the opposite was in his head.
Sure, he wanted to ask you to marry him. Hell, he was up for eloping and running away to wherever you wanted, but he kept that impulsive part of him in check by admonishingly berating himself.
You can't expect her to want to marry you just like that! Things are back to square one, and trust will need to be built back up before you can even consider proposing to her. Gonna have to take it slow – let her set the pace of things. See how far she's willing to allow things to get back to where they were before—
Honking cars sweep his internal monologue away, and he focuses on the bumper-to-bumper traffic becoming a standstill at the height of after-5pm rush hour. Checking his watch, he grumbles as he snatches up the folded map that's in close reach in order to skim alternate routes he could take, peering over the rim of his aviators down at the woven streets off of the highway.
He'd gone to his place after work to quickly shower, shave, and change into comfortable clothes, eager to get over to your condo with enough time to spare so he could park and go up to the door to escort you down. But now, with how he's inching over lanes to get to the next exit in order to back route it to your street, he's aggravated that he's going to be running so late.
Javi doesn't know that you'd had to contend with the same level of traffic, even after avoiding the highway and sticking to the city routes you knew, so you were currently running around your apartment rushing to get ready. Freshly showered, you shimmy into your outfit and spend way too long fussing with what to do with your hair before you look at the clock and swear under your breath – worried Javier is parked out front waiting for you and wondering why you're so late in coming down.
You've just pulled on your shoes after putting on some tinted lip balm when your cell phone starts ringing. Sprinting over to the nightstand to grab it, you answer it already apologizing, "I'm so sorry! Traffic was nuts so I'm way behind getting ready—"
"Oh, that's alright! I just pulled up to the curb. The roads are a nightmare, so no rush, querida," Javi assures in a smooth baritone.
"Ok, I'll be down in 5 minutes!" you insist before hanging up to finish fretting over your appearance in the mirror.
Frowning, Javi returns the cell phone to the center dash. He'd been hoping he could've gone up to your apartment and chivalrously escorted you down to the car, but your condo building was fenced off with a security and carport gate that required a passcode for entry. Flustered with being late, he ends up busily popping a mint into his mouth and crunching on it while he lowers the visor so he can peer at his appearance in the mirror.
He's fussing with his hair in the reflection when he sees the entry gate of the walkway open. Slapping the visor shut and giving the interior of his car one last glance, he gets out and walks around to the sidewalk in order to greet you.
As you shut the gate behind yourself, you see him out of the corner of your eye approaching, so you exclaim, "Hey! Sorry to keep you waiting—"
Javi pauses in his tracks when you turn and smile at him. He's punch-drunk by how you're dressed, feeling a scintillating déjà vu flood him over with heat that has him slipping his sunglasses off to stare at you.
You look relaxed and flirty in the capri-style light denim jeans, peach-toned camisole top, and leather sandalia-clad feet, hair gathered up in a twist with the rose-shaped clasp. Sans makeup except for the balm on your lips, you look seraphic and enchanting, especially when you approach him after putting your keys in your purse so you can have your hands free to rest them on his shoulders as you lean up and peck him on the lips hello.
"This is your idea of comfy clothing, eh?" you can't help razz as you step back and give him a sassy once over. "And boots?"
He snorts and slips his sunglasses into his dusky blue cotton button down shirt's breast pocket before chivalrously opening the passenger door for you. The infamous blue Levi's look just as impeccable on him as you remember, and his ass is begging for a squeeze when he leans in to adjust the passenger seat back for you to have ample leg room.
You manage to not give into the impulse of groping him, but just barely.
"These are my most comfortable pair, criticona," Javi teasingly mutters as he steps aside for you to get into the dark gray SUV. Once he closes your door for you, he circles to the driver's side and gets in, remarking, "I don't know what's going on, but traffic was ridiculous—"
"Today is the semi-final game for the Serie del Caribe, and Puerto Rico has been sweeping the tournament, so getting to the baseball stadium is a hot-ticket event," you tell him before sheepishly musing, "It totally slipped my mind! I remembered when I hit traffic right outside of my usual route home. I should've called and warned you—"
"Nah, that's all right," is his warm assurance, as he drives off. "You'll have to act as navigator, though, since I want to avoid the way I came," he remarks as he nods towards the folded-up map tucked between the center console and seat.
"Ah, luckily, the traffic shouldn't be an issue going into Old San Juan. Just keep straight, and at the end, turn right to merge onto the route towards the bridge," you're instructing as you adjust your seatbelt and smile, then remark, "Ellis has this car, too, only in tan. Do you like it?"
"Yeah, uh, I know," Javi chuckles, subtly reminding you that he'd ridden in the Ellis' tan Montero after you'd cussed him out and stormed off. He snickers when you bite your lip at the recall, and rumbles, "It's not bad. Not so different from other SUVs I've driven. Surprised by all the foreign cars down here."
"Yeah, Japanese cars have gotten really popular down here. They're more compact and fuel-efficient," you remark as you point to where he needs to go as he merges into the lane he needs to take to go over the bridge that connects the islet to the rest of the metropolitan area.
You keep making light conversation as you guide him through traffic to take the best routes into El Viejo San Juan's city center, and jovially point out landmarks to him as you go. Javier smiles when you excitedly lean over to point at the Capitolio and explain how that's where the Puerto Rican Congress and Senate gather.
"Is that El Morro?" he asks as he drives by the massive outer walls of what looks like a sprawling fortification with ample grounds that overlook the ocean.
"No, that's El Castillo San Cristobal. Oh, take this left here," you answer and direct, then proceed to guide him to the nearest carpark garage.
Once he's found an empty space and parked, he leaves his aviators in the dash cubby and pockets his cell phone before you lead him down to street level, leaving the building's front loggia before convivially taking his hand and excitedly towing him along to begin the romantic excursion.
It's a cloudy afternoon, but the brisk air is breezy and cool, and the sun peeks through every so often, warming your skin whenever it seeps around the tree-lined street's Spanish edifices. The foot traffic is meandering but not congested, so you're both able to stroll together without having people to really weave through. You think it's nice, and the fluttering current undulates around you both every so often and brings his warm, spicy cologne to tickle your nose and make you lean in closer to him.
Javi is dying to kiss you. Had been since the day before. But he doesn't want to derail you, or make it seem like all he wants is to jump right back into the carnality of wanting and having you. No, he's on his best behavior, treating this like a first date and corralling all base desire in order to focus and be present with you. Especially when you exuberantly lead him to cross the street so you both can stroll past shops while you gush about your favorite places to go when you're in Old San Juan.
"—It's so nice out today, but it would be even better to come on the weekend or when the cruise ships anchor at port, because all sorts of vendors, artesanos and performers line the streets and flank El Paseo de la Princesa," you're telling him as he interlaces his fingers with yours and marvels at the old-world charm of the buildings.
When you pass a few restaurants with outside seating on the front sidewalk, Javi squeezes your hand and gestures to the façade of a building he recognizes. "Steve and Connie took me here for dinner—"
At your scoff, he blinks down at you and sees you shaking your head at him with a wry smile before you tug him along to briskly stride away. "That's a tourist trap, Javi. Where all the gringos go for 'authentic Puerto Rican cuisine' and get mediocre arróz con habichuelas y bistec. What a travesty," is your snarky appraisal of the place before tutting playfully to him, "For shame, chavón—"
"It was alright," he chuckles, and at your sassy scoff, he tows you back when he pauses in stride so he can lean in to whisper in your ear, "Tan exijona. Luckily, I'm more than happy to let you guide me wherever you see fit."
The giddy tingle that courses down into your core has you tempted to just slink up against him in order to kiss his smugness away, but you control yourself and instead lilt, "I'm happy to guide you to real authentic Puerto Rican food soon, galán. But, for now? We're making the most of this early evening tour!"
He chuckles and lets you take his arm so you can thread it with yours and escort him along to the next corner before the street opens up into a larger avenue overlooking the southern precinct of the islet. When Javi points out the impressive edifice across the way that takes up an entire city block, and asks, "What's that building?" you smile.
"That is the first US federal building of significance built on the island. It's where the old Post Office was housed, and it's an active US courthouse. It faces the harbor, and was constructed on an old Spanish customs house. There used to be fortifications that were part of the bastion up ahead, but they made way for this building when the US beat Spain and took the island as a territory," you're telling him as you both cross the street and walk the sidewalk along the building's north side.
He's impressed as he looks up while you both lope by, and lets you point out more sights and landmarks once you get to the front entrance of the building that overlooks a cobblestone pedestrian inlet flanked by barriers that delineate it for foot traffic while drivers mill around it to traverse one-way routes in and out of the harbor-facing precinct.
Pretty soon, you're both ambling over to one of your favorite jaunts: El Paseo de la Princesa. It's a lovely, picturesquely timeless promenade that looks up at the city that yawns upwards on the hilly terrain it settled on centuries ago, flanked by the bastions with alcoves Javi knew were called garitas, aka sentry boxes for Spanish soldiers, standing watch. As you amble casually down the tree-lined, cobblestone promenade, you point out more sights, happily answering Javi's follow-up questions.
He's utterly charmed by the wonderful stroll with you, and genuinely interested in the history of each landmark you tell him about as you lope down until the impressive bronze-sculptured adorned fountain at the end of the promenade comes into view. At this time of day, La Fuente Raíces looks older than it actually is thanks to the rays of dusk gleaming off the waters from the harbor and haloing in the majestic misted spray of the fountain's many nozzles jettisoning the water around the monument depicting all of the different roots that make up the people of Puerto Rico. The bronze figure at the center of the monument is reaching up to the sky, and Javi stands before it to admire how majestic the landmark is.
He's noticing how the flag poles that align the perimeter of the end of the promenade are flying the US and Puerto Rican flags, and is about to comment on how intrigued he was that both were variations of red, white and blue – albeit with a single star versus the fifty he's used to, when you adjust your purse to be crossbody so you can grab his arm with both your hands and pull him closer to the fountain.
"Come, if you stand over here, you can see how the light from the sun makes the statues glow gold and copper," you're telling him jubilantly as you lead him to stand just behind and to the side of the fountain, where the breeze coming off of the harbor brings the fine mist from the water spraying up to the sky to sprinkle lightly over you both.
The glow of the sun from this angle is stunning, and when Javi looks from the bronze monument pedestaled at the center of the fountain to you, his dark brown eyes flare like rich cocoa under the light.
His breath catches in his chest from how radiant you look under the dusky sky, and before he's registered the impulse, he's cupped your cheek and leaned forward to kiss you with a passion unmatched by the heat of the sun's dying rays.
You don't shy away from it, and instead lean into him as you deepen the kiss, heart racing when his hand cups the small of your back, holding you close to him.
With the mist from the fountain carried over by the breeze, Javi is inundated with the smell of your dewy skin and the scent of your perfume, so much so that he reluctantly breaks the kiss in order to nuzzle you and sigh.
"You really know how to romance me, cariño," he husks ruggedly, and you snicker before amusedly swatting his shoulder.
"Yeah, well, quit getting carried away, suavón. We got a lot of walking and sightseeing to do before the sun sets, so c'mon," is your deriding murmur as you take his hand and tug him along to a walkway of patterned pavers that veers off from the promenade.
The path skirts the rocky edge of the shore and looks out to the bay, flanking the outer walls of the fortified city and leading to La Puerta de San Juan – the iconic gate that led into the historic city's walls. As you walk, you and Javi canoodle closer under the ruse of chatting more intimately in the cloistered walkway while the breeze and crashing of the waves made up the ambience around you both.
His arm slips around you and yours around his waist as you near the tree-canopied park just outside the ancient gate. Plenty of people are enjoying the breeze and sitting on the benches around the shade-abundant gathering place, and Javi is admiring the charming surroundings when you glance up at him and smile.
"Right through the gate, at the top of the street is one of the entrances to La Fortaleza, where the governor resides," you're remarking as you both meander up the path towards the fortified entry. "From here on, most of the city is on an incline going towards El Morro, so hope you can keep up—"
Javi hears the goading challenge in your lilting tone and gives you a smug grunt. "Just lead the way, guapita," is his puckish drawl as he affectionately pinches your waist.
Giggling and detaching from his side, you impishly skip ahead before making a come-hither gesture as you purr, "Vente, señorito."
He scoffs, licking his bottom lip and eyeing you as he marches on long strides to catch up, just before you amble off cheekily.
You skip up through the open gate and make it to the top of the street, expecting to turn and still see Javi just clearing the threshold of the fortified entry, and instead are surprised that he's right on your heels. An effervescent laugh flits out of you when he loops his arm around your waist and scoops you up against him as he swings you around.
"You mischievous little scamp," he rumbles in a steely purr against your ear before kissing you in the spot of your neck just below it. "Quit teasing me when I'm trying to be on my best behavior—"
Wiggling to slink down his front, you purse your lips and huff, "So am I! But you're too easy to rile up, so I can't help it."
He grunts and puts his arm around you when you nod in the direction of walking up the current street. "Figures," is his laconic hum, smiling when the arm you've looped back around his waist gives him an irreverent squeeze.
Managing to stroll up the winding streets and continue to banter lightheartedly, you both make it to the end of the inclining route and arrive at the top of the islet that looks out at the expansive green, knoll-like grounds that make up El Castillo San Felipe del Morro.
A citadel built on the northwesternmost point of the islet of Old San Juan, it takes advantage of the promontory that overlooks the entrance to the Bay of San Juan, which accounts for its name amongst the locals: El Morro. Under the now pink and peach-tinged clouds of the sky backlit by the blazing Caribbean sunset, the entire grounds looked utterly enchanting. So much so, that Javier just gaped at it with mystified wonder while you jovially waited for him to glance at you.
Across the lush green grass meadow, people were enjoying the splendor of the majestic site. Javi marveled at the kites being flown in the sky by kids and adults alike, the congenial clusters of people lounging together for late-day picnics, and the children running down the more sloping terrain playing games on who can go down and up the quickest. Overall, it was spectacular, and the splendor of it had him starry-eyed as the breeze from the ocean billowed up to bring him back down from the clouds.
"Holy shit," he breathes out and looks at you, completely smitten as he smiles and exclaims, "You weren't kidding. This is amazing, querida."
Beaming, you take his hand and simper, "I told you! Now, let's take a break and sit so we can watch the sun set."
You both end up finding a nice spot on the soft cool grass to lounge and admire the sky, cuddled sidelong together while people-watching and enjoying the magnificent beauty of the historic site. At one point, while Javi is pointing at one of the kites and remarking about how much air the flyer got on it, you find yourself staring at his profile and getting a warm recall. His smile when he turns to you and sees your expression soften only makes your heart flutter more.
This time, you're the one who pulls him close for a tender kiss on the lips.
Javier deepens it with a slip of his tongue, and before you know it, the hand at his nape curls up into the back of his hair and guides him down with you to the grass. He balances himself by planting a hand next to your shoulder, slipping the other behind your head to wrap fingers along your nape.
For a moment, the world bleeds away, and you both get lost in the make-out session until the delighted squeal of a child rings over the breeze and reminds you of where you're at. Javi grunts at the same time as you hum reluctantly to break the kiss, and when he leans back to stare handsomely down at you, the image of him doing the same thing, but in a dream you'd had once, flares like a resplendent vision in your mind's eye.
Sitting up with a faux pout when he shifts to lounge sidelong on his elbow, you grumble, "Who's romancing who now."
He chuckles and does that silly mueca where he cocks his jaw askew before tucking his chin low so he can give you a molten stare. "I'm blaming it on the magic of the island of enchantment," is his canela-dipped purr as he affectionately nudges his shoulder into yours.
You chuckle and lean into him, eyes twinkling under the dusky light cresting into the horizon as you glance over to see that the squealing child was a little boy as his father held him out like he was flying while he ran down the meadow.
Smiling at the heartwarming sight, you turn to Javi and ask, "How's your dad?" When his brows go up in surprise, you bump your shoulder playfully into him and snicker, "What? I've been wondering if he was against you coming down here, let alone to head the DEA again under the ruse of coming to court me—"
"You have that in reverse, corazón," he counters and cocks a glib brow at you before remarking, "I told him it would be different, he believed me, and didn't try to talk me out of leaving. He gets it," he pauses to smirk as he croons, "Plus, he made me promise that when I got you back, that I'd finally bring you home to meet him."
Heart summersaulting in your chest at that, you stare meekly up at him now as you query, "He wasn't disappointed? That you were investing your time into all of this again, after everything?"
He's surprised to hear you wonder that. Sure, the first time he'd talked to his father after he'd arrived in San Juan, Chucho had pressed him on whether he was sure about his plans, but that had been before he was able to update him a few days later that you hadn't strangled him in your fury, and that you both had agreed to take things slow. Well, it was an unspoken agreement, sure, but Javi had felt confident, and his father had seemed relieved and happy to hear it.
The look in your eyes right now though tells him you want honesty, not appeasement, so Javi dotingly combs the rogue strands of hair that have escaped your clasp to frame your face, and tucks them behind your ear for you, as he answers sincerely, "To tell you the truth, when a big box with all my stuff showed up on the doorstep at the house? Pops leveled with me that it might be time for me to move on," he pauses when your expression tenses, so he quickly continues, "But I couldn't. I spent months obsessing about things – wondering if I should've done more, and I tried reaching out to everyone I could think of that would know where you were; that had a way to contact you, and always struck out. But the moment Steve showed me the org chart here? I went home and told Pops I needed to take the job; to come down here. That it would be different this time, because I had the right reasons—"
"Javi," you interrupt and shift closer so you can confide, "I waited for you. And when I couldn't live with knowing how complicit everyone was in sabotaging you – that they'd set you up to fail? It made me sick, and I quit…but I reached out to Steve, hoping he could tell me where you were. I never got ahold of him, and by then? I had no reason to stay in Colombia anymore. And, I was convinced it was over and I would never see you again, so I packed the box and mailed it to your father's address, figuring you'd turn up there eventually."
"…I'm sorry, querida," he mumbles on an exhale and diverts his gaze before admitting, "My biggest regret was being too much of a chicken-shit idiot to have reached out after I'd left. That I didn't go back sooner."
You hear the genuine upset in his muttered tone, so you sigh and caress his cheek so he'll look back up to your eyes as you huff, "So? Does Mr. Jesus F. Peña hate me for stealing his son away, or not?"
Snorting at you, he follows up with his own question of, "How did you know that, and the address to the house? I never told you—"
"I may have peeked into a shoebox I'd accidentally knocked off the top shelf of your closet, and seen the envelope to a letter from him to you," is your impish drawl as you smile at him giving you an impressed look.
The dim twilight has advanced enough now over the expansive grounds that you both decide to start making your way back down to the cobblestone streets. Luckily for Javi, you could tell he was a bit peckish, so you'd suggested stopping for tapas and drinks at Barrachina. Walking down the hilly calles to the restaurant and bar was even more pleasant, thanks to the cool breeze languidly billowing about now that the twilight gave in to night, as well as the antique lamppost-lit plazas and parques you both strolled by while you'd point to landmarks or museums you promised to bring him back to next time you both were in the old city.
He's in such a great mood that he even lets you cajole him into getting a piña colada instead of his go-to whiskey neat, all because you raved about how good it was and how the location touted themselves as being the original creators of the world-renowned tropical drink. Even when he got a brain freeze, he still couldn't stop smirking while you gushed about all the places you still wanted to take him to.
By the time he's escorting you back out to the cobblestone avenue and down a promenade that will lead you back to the parking garage, you're feeling content. You rest your head on his arm while your hands are looped around his elbow, effectively tucking you close to him as you lope by the shops you'd passed when you'd first arrived, while you continue to banter.
"—I swear, my father understands and is supportive. I'll even call him so you can talk to him yourself, if you don't believe me," Javier is remarking while traversing through the evening foot traffic to the corner, voice a gravelly murmur in your ear, making a tingle of arousal flutter in your belly, as you both cross the street to enter the garage kiosk to settle up.
"I believe you, chulito," you chuckle and take his hand once he's paid and the ticket is validated.
"Should I be nervous about how your father will feel about us?" he inquires in a musing drawl, and cocks a concerned brow down at you when you scoff.
"That's a whole other story for another day, babe," you obfuscate smoothly as you bossily clasp his hand in both of yours, giving his palm a squeeze while walking towards the entry of the stairwell up to the parking levels.
"Does he even know about us…?" he can't help fish.
Humming, you concede, "He does. And he knows you're here," before pausing to sigh as you glance up at him and add, "But really, everyone knows about us."
You go on to briefly tell him the encounter with your father, and Javier internally steels himself to the eventual sizing up he'll have to be subjected to by the imposing and intimidating-sounding man. "—He knows a lot of people in business and government, and is known by reputation across all the spheres of influence that matter down here, and is esteemed by most. So, it's par for the course that he's wise to us and able to keep tabs, I guess."
Sounds like I got my work cut out for me, Javi thinks to himself as you continue to stride together down the main aisle towards where the car is parked.
After you get in, Javi turns to you before putting the key in the ignition in order to have the quiet of the interior so he can ask, "Can I take you out to dinner?"
Giggling, you whisper in a silly tone, "Javi, we just had dinner—"
"Yeah, but I mean a real dinner. Somewhere on the beach, with maybe some dancing?" he unabashedly proposes, and the smoldering look in his dark brewed eyes makes a shiver skitter down between your legs. "Doesn't have to be fancy. Just somewhere nice and casual you vouch for."
"I'd like that," you chime before serenely smiling, then caveating, "Friday would be the best, since traffic will be pandemonium the next couple of days due to the tournament's final games. And the vaguadas are coming in over the weekend, so all the beach chinchorros will be closed because of the weather, most likely."
"Alright, it's a date," Javier croons before leaning over to kiss you on the lips, pride expanding his chest when you return it with a few flirty pecks and a playful giggle. "You pick the chinchorro, since I have no clue."
"I know where to go, and it's fairly nearby, plays music, and is right on the beach," you chime silkily as he starts the car, and end up smiling sweetly when he makes a silly sound and nods sagely at you.
A little while later, and he's pulling up to the front of your condo building, parking at the curb a few feet from the sidewalk gate entry.
"I had a great time," you tell him, expression gentle as he turns to look at you puckishly. Making an amused sound, you pester, "Well? Did you? I know it was practically a hike, most of the time—"
"It wasn't. We're definitely making a day of going back, soon," he confidently declares before leaning close and asking, "Can I walk you up?"
You hesitate, seeming unsure if you should say yes, and Javi reads the cause for concern from the tense press of your lips, so he quickly assures, "Just want to escort you up. I promise—"
"Yes, sorry, I'm just," you pause before scoffing at yourself, then clarifying, "I'd like that."
Relieved, Javier gets out and comes around to your side of the car to take your hand as you shimmy out of the passenger seat. He's nothing but a gentleman after you key in the security code for the gate and lead him through the lush courtyard.
He catalogues how nice the surroundings are and notes the number of units as you lead him through the front lobby to the elevators.
"You got a security guard posted here?" he asks when you walk by the desk and enter the elevator once the doors have slid open.
"No, just a day and night attendant. The night guy's shift doesn't start for another 10 minutes, though," you explain as you press the button for your floor. "How do you like living in a house versus an apartment?"
"It's different, but nice. The neighborhood is quiet, Steve and Connie live not even a block over, so it kind of feels like old times. Just a lot more tranquil. Although, I do miss the amenities from my place back in Bogotá," he tells you as he leans back against the elevator wall, arm looping around you when you hum and sidle up next to him. "The provisioner and in-building dry cleaner was just too good. Now I gotta get my own groceries and trek my suits across town—"
"Awww, pobrecito," you deridingly coo as the elevator arrives on your floor and the doors slide open. Coquettishly taking his hand, you tow him along to exit onto the loggia-styled walkway towards your side of the hall. "Well, I love my apartment—"
Tugging you playfully back to cuddle against his side as you both stroll towards your door, Javi drawls, "I like how secure it is. No pendejo can just waltz up to your door and invite himself in."
You laugh wholeheartedly, and he feels soothed to hear your melodious giggle before it melts into that discordant little sigh he loves.
Once you're at the door, you key in and hesitate before turning to him and looking at him tentatively.
"I-Thanks for taking me out, and letting me drag you around," you murmur, snickering when he smirks and exhales amusedly out his nose before leaning his hand into the doorframe as you add, "I'll call you Friday to confirm?"
Nodding, Javier's gaze softens into that soulful stare that makes heat tingle up in you. "Looking forward to it," he rumbles before leaning in to kiss you chastely on the lips. He then curls his finger under your chin to affectionately raise your countenance up so he can husk debonairly, "Buenas noches, querida."
You have to suppress the urge to just grab him by his collar and drag him into your apartment so you can have your way with him like you long to, and instead smile dreamily as he turns to lope back down to the elevator.
"I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave, papisongo."
Javi pauses and turns, and his expression is priceless as you grin at him from the door.
"I cannot believe you said that," he incredulously chuckles, and his smile is beaming as it unearths his boyish dimple. "And you give me grief about my lines?" is his faux-huffy counter as he puts his hand on his hip and squints comically at you when you give him a flirty wink.
"Yeah well, it needed to be said! Now, good night, stud," you goofily exclaim, then purr the latter farewell, blowing him a silly kiss before going into your apartment.
Smitten, Javi chuckles to himself and resumes his exit, already pining to see you again.
Even when the rest of his week is filled with the stress and toil of running things while still learning the lay of the land, Javier is able to keep his spirits up. His team of agents are savvy and self-aware, personable and scrappy, so he doesn't feel the same kind of anxiety he did when he'd first arrived to oversee the investigation of the Cali cartel. However, there wasn't a fount of leads or knowledge about the criminal organization like there'd been for either of the Colombian cartels, so hearsay and conjecture were what fed the operations and surveillance assessments.
Still, with Steve finding leads that linked back to certain players in the underworld on the island, he was able to go into meeting after meeting with his suspicions about the syndicates that made up the Puerto Rican Mafia only becoming more credible.
During his morning briefing, he heard the first bit of intel that made his instincts perk up, and ordered Segarra to work with the legal team to request financial statements, pull permits, and search for contracts that had overlapping LLC or holding company titles.
His ASAC was eager to please after being dressed down overtly enough for the entire department to know and gossip about it, so while Javier was brushing up on studying the municipal maps and the topographic charts for the mainland, the man had surprised him by coming into his office with the first of the documents.
"—Check it out, boss. I got the expert on forensic accounting to dig into things, and there are definitely repeating LLC's doing business between here and the other islands. See here? There's a business license in St. Thomas that matches one here," Segarra is detailing as Javier flips through the files and skims everything. "I have a buddy that works at Banco Popular, and I have him looking for accounts that may have wired funds back and forth—"
"Make sure you have legal in the loop of that. I don't want to end up having solid intel inadmissible in court because you cut corners," is his commanding drawl, eyeing the man sharply before glancing back down at some particular public record disclosures. He doesn't see the narrowed glare his dismissive air inspires from his subordinate, but he can sense his resentments percolating, so he deadpans, "This is all promising, though. Do we know who the LLC holders are?"
"N-Not yet, sir. But I have a few resources digging through the paperwork, looking for any filings that list the company holders," Segarra tells him, adding purposely, "And I definitely went through the proper channels with the bank audit, but it never hurts to have a friend run point."
Javier glances aloofly up at him as he tersely orders, "Let me know once you have the information."
"Yes, sir," the man curtly replies before heading out of his office.
Resuming his scan of the documents, Javi wonders about the LLC, and decides to put out some feelers for intel stateside, so he makes a call to Spencer. The man gives him some excellent contacts to reach out to for a deeper accounting of the information, before taking his usual opportunity to wax regretful that he couldn't convince him to take on Mexico.
"—It's looking like a crapshoot anyway down there. So, at the very least, you have a lot more enchanting surroundings, and company – or so I hear."
Miffed by the comment, Javier had curtly found a way to end the call, only to end up stewing. After all, he really was getting used to everyone knowing about him and you. It still raised his hackles to hear anyone reference you so glibly, let alone with a knowing undertone that spoke of amused recrimination.
Even when Steve would razz him like he had that morning during their morning jog – quipping, "Wonder how long it'll be before you both play hooky and run off to get married" – a feeling of protectiveness would twinge in his gut, and he'd have to remind himself that there was no threat. No looming fallout or harassment coming your way because of him.
Not anymore, anyway…
His stewing couldn't last for long, though. Not with more intel coming in from the port survey he'd requested. The logs and manifests took up so much of his time, that he didn't realize how late in the day it'd gotten until his cell phone started ringing, and he retrieved it while sparing a glance at his watch. "Peña."
"Hey. Wanted to see if we were still on for tonight?" your silky voice snaps him to attention to realize it was already past 5pm and he still needed to head home to change. He muffles a swear as he rushes from his desk chair to collect his blazer in order to head out, and you interpret it as reluctance to answer, so you end up asking tentatively, "Is it not a good time—?"
"No, no, sorry. I just lost track of time," Javier counters as he tosses all the documents back into their folders before setting the pile aside as he insists, "I'm running late, but I'll pick you up—"
"Oh, well if you want, just meet me there. The later it gets, the harder it'll be to get a table, so I'll take a cab there and wait," you cut in with the suggestion, and Javi frowns as he exits his office and rushes through the mostly quiet department. "I know traffic will be tough, so no rush—"
Glowering as he stalks out to the elevator and presses the button, Javi forlornly mutters, "I'm sorry, querida. I'll be there as soon as I can."
You giggle at his huffy tone, and mollify, "Don't worry about it, boss man. I'll just pass the time wondering what outfit you're gonna show up in that'll make me wanna tease you some more."
Feeling a tremor of desire pulse through him, Javi smirks as he takes the elevator down to the lobby. "Such a damn coqueta," he rumbles, and you hum innocently over the line before telling him the address and the best route to take. "—Alright, I'll see you soon."
"Drive safe. Bye."
He hustles out of the building and finds Kike sitting in the parked SUV while listening to reggaetón, caught up in the beat and not noticing him until he's at the passenger's side door, knocking on the window. The rookie jumps before lowering the radio and unlocking the doors.
"You working late on a Friday, sir!" Kike remarks jovially before turning the car on while Javi hops in and puts his seatbelt on.
"Yeah, lost track of time. Sorry for keeping you," he mutters as Kike drives them down to the security gate, then heads down the avenue en route to his house.
"No problem!" Kike assures as he drives, fingers tapping along to the beat of the song still playing low on the radio. The man had learned that Javier is more taciturn at the end of the day, so he makes a conscientious effort not to engage in idle chatter now, figuring he wants to decompress from his day.
"…How would you dress to go to a chinchorro on a Friday night?"
Kike's wide expressive eyes flash over at him in surprise, and Javi instantly regrets asking, feeling like a damn tourist, but luckily for him, the younger officer is more than happy to impart his wisdom as sociable local, and by the time Javi is dropped off at his place, he's confident and ready to impress you.
While he hurries to get ready, you're just getting in the cab that'll chauffeur you to the open-air restaurant and hangout on the beach. Excitement buzzes through you as you drive, but your mind preoccupies your thoughts with the news you'd gotten during your doctor's appointment. It'd been a good news-bad news kind of discussion with your primary care physician, whom was in consultation with your OBGYN, and you felt ambivalent as you rehashed it all, fixating on what was still unknown.
The results of your bloodwork were good. Blood pressure and cholesterol were normal, and your hormonal levels weren't irregular. You'd even surpassed your goal weight and gotten the encouragement to relax on your dieting. However, you'd been off of birth control for weeks, and while your headaches and fatigue had gone away, you'd not had a menstrual cycle. Noting that on your chart after conducting a physical, the doctor had administered a rapid pregnancy test as was standard in order to rule it out. It'd been negative, so the bad news was that you could be suffering from amenorrhea. And unfortunately, only more checkups in the coming months would rule it out as a diagnosis. But if there were several menstrual cycles missed? The chances that the amenorrhea was a permanent issue, and that it could be caused by a disease or chronic condition increased in probability. More testing would need to happen, and could lead to a diagnosis you'd been worrying about for a while now.
Infertility.
It was overwhelming to think about it, and even though the doctor had insisted it was still too early to jump to that conclusion, you felt it was inevitable. That you had to start building up your defenses to it being a reality.
As you exit the cab now and pay the driver, you feel an ache in your chest that you can't quite place while you smoothen out the skirt of your sleeveless abstract print jade-and-terracotta slip dress. Adjusting your beaded pouch purse to be crossbody before you straighten the ankle strap to your flat leather strappy sandal, you try to chalk it up to fretting over nothing. But by the time you walk in and get seated at a table on the outside deck overlooking the sandy beach and rocky shore beyond, the ache becomes a pang of worry.
What if Javi wants to settle down, and start a family?
The thought preoccupies you for a while, making you reticent as you sit alone and stare faraway at the horizon line. Your fingers absently toy with your hair after the breeze tousles it, and before you know it, you've worried your bottom lip dry from fixating on the what ifs and worst-case scenarios. Annoyed, you shake yourself free of the anxious thoughts and retrieve your satiny lipstick from your purse to reapply it to your lips and force yourself to stay grounded in the now.
The restaurant is full, but not crowded, with most lingering at the bar and dancing to the cheerful salsa music playing. The sunset gleams across the waters at the shore, and you get lost in the splendor of it while you sway along to the romantic oldie. So much so, that you don't sense someone approaching your direction until they're right next to you.
Javier was besotted the moment he laid eyes on you when he came in through the restaurant and spotted you out on the wood deck, by the veranda. The sunset was melting into the horizon, and the glow of the dusky hues illuminated you beautifully, managing to both cast you in soft relief and make your features striking as you turned your expression towards him and blinked in surprise.
"Christ, you look stunning," Javi rumbles as he stares at you, not sure what to do first: kiss you, pull you up into his arms, or just pick you up and take you somewhere secluded along the fronds that lushly skirt the beach beyond so he can properly fawn over you.
You're smiling as you turn in your chair and get an appreciative gander at his toffee-colored chino pants, warm cream short-sleeved button down, and dark-leathered beefroll penny loafers with a matching brown belt. He looks freshly showered and shaved, hair curling along his forehead and down his nape, eyes flaring the richest tone of brown thanks to the dying sunlight catching in his irises.
Unable to help yourself, you get up and encircle his waist brazenly before purring, "You've had this outfit waiting in the wings for this long, and you dare strut in here como modelo when I'm trying so hard to behave?!"
He snorts wryly at you before cupping the hinge of your jaw and leaning down for a kiss, brushing his lips chastely over yours before tracing his thumb along your cheek. "Hmph, all credit goes to the rookie that drives me for telling me what to wear out for a nice dinner on the beach here," is Javi's honeyed quip, smirking when you hum a charmed sound and affectionately swipe the pad of your thumb over his lips in order to remove the lipstick print you left on the pillowy morsels while he smiles and murmurs around it, "Hope you haven't been waiting long—"
"No, not long at all. It was nice to just sit and stare off for a bit," you sigh as he pushes in your chair for you once you've sat back down. "How've you been?"
Javi sits across from you and admires the way the breeze flutters your lovely hair about. "Busy, but ok. Been having a hard time deciphering the way things are done down here. This case is an odd one," he answers and immediately shakes his head at himself before muttering, "Sorry, I won't bore you—"
You snicker and reach for his hand after he's idly rested it on the table. "You're not. Things are different here when it comes to the way everything operates," you remark, not wanting to reference the topic overtly, for fear people might hear and become nosy. "How's Steve doing? Bet it's been tough for him too."
Nodding, Javi grouses, "Yeah, plus he travels out to the Virgin Islands every so often, but it's been good having the hillbilly around to bounce ideas off of again."
Chuckling with irreverent glee, you squeeze his hand and hiss, "Que malo eres, always deriding that whiteboy."
He laughs and takes your hand in his, features warm with affection as he asks, "And how was your day?"
Part of you wilts, but you catch yourself before it reaches your face, as you decide to answer coolly, "It was ok. Had to do some unpleasant boss stuff."
You end up telling him about having to let a few people go, and purposely decide not to tell him about the doctor appointments or the health concerns you've been worrying about. It feels too unstable and precarious to voice it to anyone, let alone to him. Not with how fledgling everything still felt, especially when your insecurity was burrowing deep into the part of you that didn't want to acknowledge the possibilities of a loss that could erode things between you and Javi. That could dictate plans yet to be considered.
Keeping it to yourself feels like the only option right now.
"—So yeah. Getting rid of the acomodados is never a popular thing," you're summing up now that a waitress finally makes her way to your table. Once she's taken your drink and food orders, you glance back at the dance floor when more upbeat salsa music starts playing and couples eagerly cut a rug.
Javi follows your gaze and smirks before suggesting, "Wanna dance?"
"I'd love to," is your sincere murmur as you stare alluringly at him with a soft smile on your plush lips.
Dancing with Javi floods you with memories and yearning, and from the way he holds you close after he spins and dips you, it's obvious he's feeling the same. Especially when the slow-tempo song comes on and he nuzzles your temple when you loop your arms around him. You brush your nose against his collar while you both sway to the ballad, letting his rugged scent curl warmth through you like your favorite spiced rum does when it hits your bloodstream.
The way you sigh and lull your head onto his shoulder allows him to get lost in the moment with you. To breathe in the perfume of your skin and the soft scent of your hair while the crowd around you both melts away. It feels like no time has passed, and all the time has rushed by him all at once while the gravitation between you both remained constant. That the love remained everlasting, waiting for you two to find your way back to each other. It makes something effervescent crest up in his chest, and all he wants to do is cherish you forever. To tell you what he's been resisting blurting out every time it burns behind his sternum, for fear of making your walls go back up in defensive self-preservation.
He could feel the doubtfulness and hesitance bubble up in you still at times. It made you meek, even rueful, whenever you seemed close to forgetting everything from before – to falling back into amorous serenity with him again. Javi understood why, but was longing to get you to a place where you felt safe enough to trust him completely again.
Still, he feels branded from the inside out with the need to profess exactly how he feels, and just as he musters the bravery to say it, he sees the waitress arrive at your table with your orders, so he kisses your temple and escorts you off of the dance floor, back to the veranda.
Dinner is wonderful, filled with silly banter and congenial catching up, especially on Javier's side. He acquiesced to your playful curiosity about what he'd been up to before coming down to Puerto Rico, so he tells you about how he'd been living back in Laredo, how it was being home for so long after being gone for so long, and he happily told you the good, the bad, and the exasperating tidbits as the ambiance of the establishment gets more animated with more patrons arriving, dancing, and waiting at the counter to put in standing food orders.
You love hearing about his friends – especially the anecdote he shares now about his neighbors, Luis and Eddie Zapata, who helped him and his father chase a few horses that got loose from the paddock and ran amuck one afternoon – and how he'd been able to decompress after everything that had happened with the Cali investigation.
Dreamily, you start to wonder out loud, "Don't you miss it?" When his eyes crinkle with confusion, you elaborate, "I mean, it sounds so nice. Completely the opposite of all the tumultuousness – just a safer, comfortable life. No stressing or despairing over meaningless things; getting to be around friends and family, keeping active on the ranch, but still getting to help your old department there without the commitment of needing to run yourself into the ground—"
"Celina."
Your eyes focus again and you blink bemusedly at him, having gotten lost in pensive thought as you painted the picture of a life better lived for him, one away from the life he'd left behind with you.
Bashfully, you look away and dismiss, "Sorry, I'm just rambling…"
He frowns as you retreat back into yourself, feigning a calm semblance as you finish your drink.
It pains him, but he realizes that professing his love right now would likely make you emotionally withdraw, so he decides to change the subject in order to coax you back from the reserved place you've slipped into.
"Murphy suggested we double date on Valentine's Day," he's remarking as he busily collects your disposable plates and cups in order to clear the small table and make it obvious to the waitress that she can bring the bill.
Amiably snickering, you lilt, "Oh? And you agreed to that?"
"I mean, I wouldn't say that," Javi dryly chuckles, smirking when you raise your brows amusedly. "I figured it'd be tough to get a table anywhere that day as just a couple—"
"Oh, it would, but there are a few places we could definitely get a table, as long as I have my friend call to make the reservation for us," you confidently chime as you lean back in your chair and cross your legs relaxedly.
He hums, intrigued, and eyes you interestedly as the waitress appears with the check, and he settles up quickly by handing the money and telling her to keep the rest. Once she's cleared the table and wished you both a nice night, Javi keenly leans over the table top, and gives you a bossy look.
"Using influence to get your way?" he queries playfully, smirking when you scoff at his goading connotation.
"Hey, if you want to take me out on Valentine's, you'll have to take advantage of me having a famous friend who gets in pretty much wherever she wants, and who'll happily reserve a table for four, just for me," you tease, snickering when he gives you a wry pout. "What, you a boy scout now too?"
Javier is about to counter your quip when the music starts to play loudly to accommodate the patrons who are dancing, and drowns out the drone of the crowds loitering about or ordering boisterously at the kiosk window attached to the long counter.
Leaning over to get his attention over the hopping merengue song currently playing, you shout, "Wanna stroll along the beach?"
With a pleased nod, Javi stands and helps you out of your seat before escorting you across the deck down the steps and onto the sandy beachfront. He immediately realizes though that he won't get far with his shoes on, but then you're reaching down to tug your sandals off with carefree whimsy, so he takes his loafers off and holds both at his side, hooked at the inner heel support and takes your hand with his free one once you've adjusted to carry your sandals on your opposite side.
Javi lets you navigate the meandering stroll down to the shore while you explain, "So this isn't really a beach for swimming, but right around the bend is a really great view of Isla Verde and El Condado."
As you both walk barefoot over the damp sand, Javi admires the beauty of the now twilight glowing over the ocean water, mindful to watch his step as you tug him along to follow around the rocky or jagged edge of an outcropping that obscures the path just on the other side of it.
"You come here a lot?" he asks when you squeeze his hand and lead him around the shore towards a cluster of fronds that rustle from the cool breeze.
"Yeah, since I was a kid. A lot of the businesses around here weren't here back then, just the main kiosko, but this hidden path was one I'd sneak off to when my parents weren't looking," you tell him as you lead him along the shady thatch created by the palm trees and fronds, smiling just as you guide him to the opposite side and reveal the amazing view.
In early twilight, the coastline across the bay looks like a glimmering strip, and the beaches were empty save for the crashes of the waves and the distant cawing of birds settling in for the nocturnal hours. He's awed by how enchanting it is, and lets his gaze sweep over the lovely view before he looks over at you now.
You'd been watching him, smitten with how his dark eyes widened and his expression softened. The distant echo of the music from the different businesses was little more than a hum over the gusting breeze and the lulling tide before you and beyond.
Your heart is beating fast for some reason, and Javier's soulful gaze staring unguardedly at you now has something tender worming free from the deepest, most insecure part of you.
"Javi…did you mean it? When you said you came here for me?" you're suddenly asking, expression etching with worry when he stares at you with incomprehension creasing his eyes and parting his lips. "I-I don't want you to give up anything that matters to you—to quit your job or throw away opportunities—"
Dropping his shoes to the sand, he faces you head on and cups his hands over your shoulders before caressing them down your arms. "I'm not. I did come here to be with you, querida, but I'm not missing out on anything else. I never stopped wanting the life we'd planned together. Yeah, it's a little different now, but all that matters to me is making it with you," Javi purposely vows, hands caressing you soothingly as you exhale and stare with open emotion into his pleading gaze. "I swear, I meant it. If you decided you couldn't commit to making things work because I was in the DEA—"
"No, Javi, I-I don't want you to give up your career—" you begin to fret, but Javi shakes his head at you, frustrated that you don't understand his meaning. "I just don't want to be the reason you end up regretting things—"
Imploringly, Javi cups your cheek and cuts in, "That's not going to happen. I'm not saying I'm giving anything up. I just meant that I can do whatever – that I'm not letting anything else dictate what happens to us, or affect our lives, however we want to go about being together—"
Overwhelmed, you pull away and drop your sandals to the sand so you can wrap your arms around yourself as you try to collect your emotional bearings. You're shivering, and it's not just because the blustery wind is becoming chilly as twilight becomes a starry night.
You sense Javi draw closer, and are about to turn and apologize when you feel warm, soft cotton drape over your shoulders. His scent envelops you, and you turn when you realize he'd taken off his shirt and wrapped it around you. Now in only his chino pants and the white undershirt, Javi chivalrously loops your waist with his arms and holds you to him in order to ward off the chill coming from the impending tropical winter deluges forecasted.
Pressing your nose to nuzzle into his chest after you tuck yourself against him, you murmur, "Since when did you start wearing these?"
He chuckles musingly, "Since I got down here and was sweating through my shirts like a pig."
You let out a simpering laugh and hug him.
An easy silence passes between you for a beat, and you get lost in the heat of his skin, the thrum of his heart against your ear, and the sounds of the breezy shore several yards away.
"I've been so scared of letting myself feel the way I did again," you suddenly susurrate, tone a tremulous whisper. So much so that at first, Javier wasn't sure he'd even heard you right. But then you look up at him and mumble, "I'm just so scared—"
He feels his heart wrench in his chest at your words and the woeful look in your eyes. "Please, mi amor. You don't have to be. I swear it'll all be different—"
You pull away then and try to rein in your emotion, to wrestle it back into the cage it's escaped before you become consumed by it. But then something searing flashes up through you when you think about how pushing him away now will devastate you, and before you can contend with either swaying you away further, you turn to Javi and just blurt it out.
"I love you," you profess before exhaling a shaky breath, and forging on, "I've never stopped loving you, and it terrifies me that I could go on the rest of my life loving you—only loving you, even if everything falls apart again. I'm so fucking scared; d-don't want to end up being something you regret, that I can't give you the life you want. That makes you leave again for good because I can't make you happy and I can't be enough for you—"
Javier is swooping over to consolingly ground you in his arms before he rushes out passionately, "You are enough. I've never left because of you, Celina. I was never happier than when we were together; never more hopeful than when I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."
He cups your face then and holds your watery gaze as he finally says what's been blazing in his chest for so long.
"I love you, Celina. I will never stop loving you. All I want, is to love you forever," Javier declares with a hoarse, suppliant baritone that rakes free the fire of his emotions as he husks, "Please, let me love you, mi vida."
Tears escape your eyes and roll down your cheeks before you catch your breath enough to whisper, "I want to. I just want to be with you, Javi," pausing to slip your arms around his shoulders and bury your flustered features against him before stammering, "I love you so much. J-Just want to be safe with you."
Both relieved and overcome, Javi holds you tight before nuzzling you lovingly and kissing you amorously when you turn to capture his lips imploring need.
You melt against him when he deepens the kiss, heart soaring as you thread your fingers into the back of his hair, swooning when his ardent embrace presses you against him protectively.
A loud car backfires in the distance, back in the direction of the beach-facing establishments, and you jump, breaking the kiss and causing Javi to squeeze you affectionately before you laugh at yourself.
"Sorry—"
"No, it's alright—"
You exhale a frazzled sound before staring at him through your lashes.
He senses you getting pensive again, so he decides to reassure you as earnestly as possible, by pressing, "I'm willing to do anything you need, whatever I can, to make you feel safe. Anything—"
"I know, Javi. I believe you," you exhale and caress your hands up his chest before murmuring over the wind, "I'm sorry for making you feel like that—"
"Don't be," he sincerely stresses before his features soften as he asks, "Can we…will you let me earn your trust back? I know you can't just forget what happened, but we can take things slow—no rushing into anything," he pauses, dark brewed eyes earnest as he emphasizes hopefully, "We can try again—just be together, and see where things go."
Feeling your heart race, you find yourself relinquishing control to it as you eagerly pipe, "Yes, I want to—I feel the same way."
The way his low-lit features perk up at your answer is enough to make you feel like this is right. Like just the promise of letting your feelings for each other thrive is enough to see you through to the next unknown milestone between you both. So, you lean up on your tippy toes and kiss him before slinging your arms around his neck.
Sublime calm settles over him, and he hugs you possessively before nuzzling you as he lets out a relieved sigh.
Snapping yourself back from the infatuated daze of being with him like this, you clear your throat and bossily nudge your temple into his cheek with a grunt.
"We should probably get out of here before a patrol rolls by and yells at us for being on the beach after dark," is your silly huff as you encircle his waist and meekly smile when he holds you in place so he can give you a moustache-tickly smooch on the cheek while the wind starts whipping across the nocturnal beach with a howl.
"It feels like it's going to start raining any minute, anyway," Javi grouses as he leads you over to retrieve both your shoes.
"Yeah, you can smell it in the air," you remark as you dust the soles of your feet before slipping your sandals back on. At Javi doing the same, you shrug his shirt off and hand it back to him as you chuckle, "Don't worry. We'll go the shortcut that takes us towards the parking lot."
Humming, he accepts his shirt before asking, "You sure? I don't mind if you wear it to the car—"
"Well, walking back to the kiosko with your shirt on is definitely going to look like we had sex on the beach," you joke, snickering when he scoffs derisively and quickly slips his shirt on before fastening it shut.
"And that would be such a bad thing?" he teases as he tucks the shirt in and takes your hand so you can lead him up the secret path that loops up a sturdy slope and over a gravel footpath tucked behind some closed structures.
"Uh, yeah! This beach isn't the cleanest spot to get laid on," you chortle as you squeeze his hand and look over your shoulder cheekily at him while you drawl, "And sex on the beach is not as sexy as it sounds."
"Oh, is that a fact?" he croons, sidling up to you now once the nearby lamp pole flickers on and provides enough illumination for you both to trek towards the bustling beachy hangouts.
Wrinkling your nose cutely, you tell him matter-of-factly, "Sand getting in your delicate crevices is not fun, sir."
Javier laughs that warm, full-chested guffaw you love, and you feel on cloud nine as you both stride the remaining distance to weave through the cars of the parking lot's outskirts before he cups the small of your back and leads you to his SUV.
The drive out of the hopping district with the two-lane road that intersects it is pleasant. You both listen to the salsa oldie playing on the radio in comfortable silence, until you glance out the window and notice how the dark clouds are rolling in now from the east. Just as you're going to remark, 'It's going to pour,' a muted sound of thunder grumbles in the distance.
You look over at Javier once he gets to the intersection leading out of the coastal scenic route and direct him to the correct exit that'll take him back to the highway going northwest. Traffic is thankfully not congested, and he cruises down the ramp leading into your condo's street not even ten minutes later. However, by the time he's pulling up to the building, the dark clouds had blanketed the metropolitan area and opened up, quickly going from a light drizzle to a pounding rain that obscures the windshield and has him setting the wipers on the highest setting to keep up with the pouring stream.
"Shit, I don't have an umbrella," Javi laments as he frowns out the windshield. "We'll have to make a run for it—"
"Just pull up into the driveway. I'll give you the gate code," you tell him congenially, blinking at him when he looks at you with surprise lighting up his eyes. "What? It's better than getting soaked. My visitor's spot is under the garage's awning. We'll be able to walk up to the lobby without getting wet."
Not having any reason to object, Javi turns the wheel and navigates the car into the driveway entry up to the automatic gate, lowers his window, and punches in the security code you recite to him.
Soon, he's parked in the spot you indicated and getting out of the car to escort you chivalrously up the garage's lobby entry and over to the elevator, passing the night attendant who nods in acknowledgement before returning to his newspaper. The ride up in the elevator to your floor is filled with banter, a repartee that is teasing as he gripes about the lack of proper security protocols for your condo.
"—Didn't even ask me to sign in! What does he even do? Just sit there all night, twiddling his thumbs?" he sneers when the elevator doors slide open onto your floor. You scoff impishly at him, so he grumbles, "And what's stopping anyone from getting the gate code and coming in—"
"Oh my god, you're worse than my father!" you chastise sassily and swat him playfully on the chest when he grunts huffily at you. "This isn't the embassy or Fort Knox! Everyone who lives here? They're mostly savvy professionals who like their privacy, and the night attendant is on duty in case there is an emergency of some kind," is your judicious musing as you lean into his side when he loops his arm around you and guides you to stay closer to the interior side of the loggia so you don't get wet from the rain being whipped about by the wind.
"Yeah, well—so much for keeping the pendejos out," he dryly jokes, and you giggle, unable to not grin when he gives you his goofy pout.
"Correction: so much for keeping the guapo descarados out," you tease.
Javi snorts, expression smug as you arrive at your door.
He watches as you retrieve your keys and unlock it, and presses his hand into the doorframe, already preparing to lean in and kiss you goodnight. So, when you open the door and push it wide so you can stand in the threshold as you swing your purse off from your person, toss it onto the nearby side table, and then place your keys in the bowl, Javier doesn't immediately sense what you're doing.
At least not until you turn back to him and peer up alluringly at him with a tentative flutter of your lashes.
"Do you want to come in?"
The silky query is said with a hopeful lilt to the timbre in your voice – eyes dazzling as you stare openly at him, and Javi feels heat course up his spine before zinging down into his apex.
He answers by stepping through the threshold and closing the door behind him with a firm shove.
You unseeingly lock it before taking his hands and pulling him further into your sanctuary, excited to show him your space. But really, after giving the surroundings a practiced, scrutinizing assessment – cataloguing the floorplan and noting that to his left the hallway leads to your bedroom at the end of it and to the right, Javi's attention is intently on you while you susurrate, "Come, get comfy. I think I have whiskey in the sideboard—"
You pause in your intended waltz over to said sideboard when Javier's hand doesn't let yours go.
The sound of the rain pelting against the banister and ceramic pots of the outdoor plants on the balcony is a muted patter inside the apartment, and the gusty breeze filters through the strategically ajar crank windows in the space while your breath catches in your chest. Distant traffic from the city blocks and highway beyond is nothing but a hum over the sounds of Javi whispering in your ear while he presses you against the wall in your hallway as your pulse races and your body arches against his. Rumbling thunder buzzes through the concrete walls and the smooth, glazed floor tile while you moan his name and cling to him in your state of semi-undress midway to your bedroom.
Swept up in the whirlwind of desire, all other sounds and sensations cease to matter now that you've kicked off the last of your clothes after stripping Javi of his. No, only the gravitation that exists between you – that incandescently heightens everything as you're both giving into each other, is what matters.
The carnal ecstasy spun up while in the throes of passion, after yearning for each other for far too long, is what you're dialed into. Especially when it fuels the pleasure and need only the other can liberate and nurture.
Picking you up and climbing onto your white-and-lilac-patterned quilt-covered bed with you, Javier rakes said need to throb achingly at your center when he grazes his teeth down the tender slope of your shoulder before suckling a possessive mark that makes you whimper and arch while your legs wrapping around his waist.
"Javi—please," you beg, hands clutching at his back while he keeps rutting his pulsing cock along your soaked folds before he slips a hand between your bodies to zero in on your clit. When his touch brushes the pulsing bundle, you cry out with needy hunger and fist a hand into his hair with desperation. "Please, mi amor, n-need it—"
"I know, baby, I know. You're doing so good, taking what I give you. Just let me make you feel good," Javi coos hotly against your ear before nipping the delicate spot just under it lightly. He feels you gush a fresh, warm slick of arousal on his cock, which snatches a pleased groan from his throat before he grinds more pressure over your thrumming pleasure point, and growls, "That's it, hermosa. Get my cock nice and wet. Come for me like this, and I'll fuck this heavenly pussy all night—"
Your gasp comes out a sob as you fall apart under his ruinously perfect coaxing, overloading you with his velvety commands and unabashed promises after going so long without him making you melt down to tingling sinew.
He watches with primal pride as your features become beatific when you moan and climax, eyes fluttering shut and mouth falling open in blissful delight.
You're trembling from how scintillating your orgasm was, eyes heavy while you breathe panting intakes of air to regain your breath. As you come down from it, you dimly realize Javi is gazing at you with a molten look in his eyes while he soothingly brushes the hair clinging to your sweaty skin back from your flushed features.
"Never get enough of watching you come. Look so fucking beautiful, querida," Javi gravels in a low purr before he noses into the hair at your temple and whispers, "Eres divina. Tan pinche perfecta."
A shiver courses through you at him proclaiming, 'You're divine. So fucking perfect,' to you when you've felt anything but. Your glossy eyes focus when he leans up to gaze down at you, giving you an enamored look that has you wanting to make him feel just as glorious as he's making you feel right now.
He grunts a lustful sound when you yank him down to meet your ardent kiss, groaning when your tongue sweeps into his mouth and you passionately grope your way down his body to line him at where you need him the most before undulating your pelvis to grind his cock into your drenched heat.
While the deluge and blustery breeze claim the world outside of your bedroom windows, you and Javi revel in each other, only registering the stormy event occurring beyond the confines of your bed when the cool air seeps through the slat windows and billows past your fluttering curtains to caress your heated flesh.
Savoring the salt of your skin as he scrapes his ravenous mouth down your craned neck after a particularly pounding thrust that has you arching in rapture, Javier ends up suckling hard on your nipple and grips you at the small of your back with one hand while the other clutches the back for your thigh roughly after you rock onto his cock fiercely and moan for more.
Your fingers dig into his back when he snarls and slams into you with abandon now, moustache grazing your skin as he drags his mouth back up from your chest to possessively claim yours in a feral kiss.
He winces against your mouth when your nails pinch into his sweaty back just under his shoulder blades and you whimper a reedy, desperate noise that tells him you're about to be seared through with another orgasm thanks to his bruising thrusts angling up into that devastatingly amazing spot you can't reach inside yourself. Your knees pull up and cling for purchase as you chase your need by meeting his pounding, piston-like strokes with the drenched squelch of your silken cunt clenching around his cock every time he slams in. The rapacious way your body is reacting to him along with your shameless hunger to claim him with as much ferocity as he's claiming you has Javier quickly barreling towards the precipice of pleasure before you ruinously fling him over the edge by nipping hard on the spot just below his jawline when you climax.
"Dios mío—mmph, C-Celina!" Javi grits out before moaning your name as he comes, lost to the scalding pleasure of reaching bliss as you cry out and writhe in the throes of lascivious euphoria under him.
He collapses on top of you after he empties his climax deep into your quivering center just before his muscles turn to jelly from getting off so fiercely. Drunkenly, he nuzzles into your sweaty neck and swears hoarsely, "Fucking hell, oh fuck. Jesus Christ, baby—"
You lie under him with a dreamy-yet-spent smile on your wrecked features as you confess unseeingly to the ceiling, "That was fucking amazing, Javier."
He shudders at the praise and musters the will to shift enough onto his forearms so he's not pressing his full weight onto you before he pivots to pull his cock out of your tender pussy to watch his cum drip greedily in his wake. He groans in savage accomplishment at seeing the pearly mess gleam in the lowlight as it pools on the quilt.
At your fawning exhale, Javi looks from the glorious sight up to your lovely, albeit ravished smile and gets punch-drunk by the amorous glow in your eyes as you reach for him.
He easily curls over you to be within the reach of your doting, reverent kisses, content to just hold you like this against him while your soft plush lips press into his overheated cheeks and jaw.
But then he catches your stare and gets pinned in place by it, because you're looking at him as if he'd hung the moon in the sky for you.
"I missed being yours. Missed you so much, Javier," you susurrate in a smoky timbre, dark lashes looking dewy in the dimness of the space as you flutter them clear of any tears before professing, "I just want to be with you, forever," then brush your lips worshipfully against his before whispering, "I love you with all my heart."
The feeling your words stokes in him burns like camphor in his chest, simultaneously making him feel deserving and profoundly at peace. It fills him up with an immense urge to shower you with devotion – to keep proving how worthy he is of you by worshiping you with the passion burning in his veins and rooting itself deep into his marrow.
Javier wants to make a vow to you for life, but is so overcome with the enthralling love he feels for you right now that he can only focus on proclaiming his adoration to you the best way he knows how – that is hardcoded within him.
He makes love to you throughout the night, and you both eventually succumb to the utter exhaustion of being fulfilled and at peace in each other's embraces while the vaguada settles over the atmosphere outside, keeping the air fresh and tranquil in your bedroom, preserving the moment and prolonging the blissful serenity between you.
A serenity comprised of all the matters to you both:
Your love.
________________
Read Chapter 42: Reflection
Spanish-English Glossary:
La Isla del Encanto = The Island of Enchantment
Buen día = Good day/Good morning
Vaguadas = Monsoon-style bad weather; heavy rainstorms
Día de Amor y Amistad = Day of Love and Friendship
Buen amigo = Good friend
Miembro del senado = Member of the Senate
Caserío = Public housing; housing project
Terraza = Terrace; usually a tiled patio in a backyard
Buenas tardes, directora = Good afternoon, director
Chavón = A man that's pestering you
Tan mala = So bad; So mean
Doña = Lady; Missus
Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"
Mi patrona = My master/boss (female)
Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie
Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady
Bebito = Little baby (male)
Gruñón = Grumpy man
Querida = Affectionate term for a female, akin to expressing one's want and desire
Me lleva la chingada = Akin to "God dammit" or "Fuck me"
Jodón = Pain in the ass (male)
Refunfuñón = Grumbler
Friolenta = Sensitive to cold (female)
Criticona = Critical woman; hypercritical; nit-picker
Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl
Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman
Wow, que mami más dura = Wow, what a fine looking woman
¡Chacho, claro que no! = Jeez, of course not!
Jefa = Boss lady
Hermosa = Beautiful (woman)
Murallas = Fortified stone walls
Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious
Acomodado = Accommodated person; term referring to a person with business or political connections that gets placed in a role or job
Tan exijona = So demanding
Galán = Handsome gent
Cariño = Darling/sweetheart
Suavón = Smooth talker; Smooth guy
Vente, señorito = Come, little sir
Mueca = Making a face; grimace
Canela = Cinnamon
Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone
Calles = Streets
Pobrecito = Poor baby; poor baby boy
Coqueta = Tease (female)
Chinchorro = A kiosk or dive bar you go to have a few drinks before moving on to the next establishment
Como modelo = Like a (male) model
Que malo eres = You're so bad
Mi amor = My love
Mi vida = My life; signifies how deeply you love someone and consider them to be your whole world
Guapo descarados = Handsome cads
Eres divina. Tan pinche perfecta = You're divine. So fucking perfect
Dios mío = My god
Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful.
#Heat - Narcos fanfic#Javi x Querida#Javi Peña x Latina OFC#Latina OFC#Javier Peña#Javi Peña#Narcos#Narcos fan fiction#Javi Peña fan fiction#Javi Peña fanfiction#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal characters
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Renegada♱
Pairings: Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]
Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)
Synopsis: You have to take on the role of a musician to infiltrate a restaurant filled with high-level international drug dealers.There, you meet Amado as expected, However, it seems that everything is not going according to the plan anymore.
AN : Just in case you're wondering, in this story, Pacho is the same person as in El Paraiso de las Pandillas. I imagine him as bisexual. (Please don't attack me; it's just my imagination and has no relevance to real individuals.)
I used to think that I wouldn't continue this fanfic, but because there are still people waiting to read it, I thought I would give it another try. However, if it doesn't really work out, I probably won't update it anymore. Thank you to everyone who has been following and reading it all along. I truly appreciate it.
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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
➡ Previous : Next
[1]ᅳ 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚 ✟
Havana, Cuba
1830(Military Time)
It has been over three hours since you sat and played the grand piano in the restaurant of the capital city. Your fingers ache from pressing down on the black and white keys as you continuously perform well-known classical pieces to entertain the sole guest here, who is seated at the large table in the middle of the restaurant.
A tall, dark-skinned man with an unruly beard and disheveled hair, always dressed in black and adorned with brand-name sunglasses hanging over his chest on the edge of his shirt
That is Amado Carrillo Fuentes, the target you've been waiting for.
You watch this man intently, alert and attentive. Since the mission began, this is the first time you have seen this man so closely. Close enough for you to shoot him dead without missing a beat.
But that's not the objective this time, and you're not playing the role of an assassin or a CIA agent. Here, you're just a "Camila," an ordinary female musician hired to provide some entertainment during an important meeting of the Latin American drug cartel.
"It's too long." Diego's voice crackles through the earpiece, sounding irritated. "Are you sure the intel is correct?"
It's not just him who feels irritated; you feel the same. "I risked my life to obtain this information. If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be here," your words barely whispered, but the tone sounds like a shout
"I think this should be enough," says the voice that comes back, belonging to Waltz, with a Texan accent that is so familiar to you. "You find a way out, and then we'll discuss what to do next."
No way, you think, but you don't say it out loud. You deliberately ignored that command.
Suddenly, your bare back under the yellow floral-patterned dress shivers as you notice three more individuals walking into the empty restaurant. They are dressed in vibrant, tailored suits, adorned with thick gold chains and expensive watches 'drug lord uniforms.' That's what Diego told you—the first rule of identifying suspicious individuals—and it proves very useful this time.
Those people are the most powerful drug lord syndicate in Colombia, called "Gentlemen of Cali" Today, they have appeared together, all three of them. You discreetly observe the two Rodríguez brothers, Gilberto and Miguel, They both seem like ordinary old men with no apparent threat. No one knows that beneath that façade, they are the heads of 'Cali Cartel' the most powerful drug cartel in Colombia, controlling over 90% of the cocaine market worldwide, ever since Pablo Escobar fell.
However, the most frightening person is Pacho Herrera, the second-in-command of the gang. He is still young, handsome, and charismatic, with a strong sexual appeal to both men and women (mostly men, as confirmed by one of the prostitutes who is your informant that Pacho is bisexual). His appearance is strikingly different from that of other drug dealers. The reason why this man often takes on the role of negotiating and bargaining for the gang's benefits is that Pacho is always able to fulfill his duties and responsibilities. He is clever, cunning, and ruthless.
Nevertheless, Pacho's relationship with Amado seems to be going well. As far as you have learned, Pacho greatly admires this Mexican drug dealer. Although it is uncertain whether their relationship is strictly professional or romantic, there is a high possibility that this negotiation will succeed without any issues.
Although you are sitting closest to them, you are still considered distant. There is no way for you to hear their conversation, but you can read their lips to some extent.
—I want to make an offer.
—What offer?"
—A transportation exchange with Cocaine and market sharing in America
—You want to compete with my gang?
—I don't want to compete, and what I'm doing will help your gang in America.
That's all you know, albeit not much. However, it's enough to confirm that these two gangs are indeed negotiating a drug trafficking agreement.
There was a tense whispering between the Rodríguez brothers before they abruptly stood up without touching the food on the table. They didn't look upset but rather seemed deeply engrossed in their thoughts about that proposal. As for Pacho, he remained seated at the table, continuing to sip his drink, and began to casually ask Amado, "How are you, friend?" while spraying empty words for several minutes before finally getting up and patting Amado on the back, saying, "Wait for a phone call tonight."
"What happened then?" asked Diego anxiously, but you didn't respond. At that moment, nothing else on that table could divert your attention from the remaining Amado.
Suddenly, he raised his face—the only moment you and he made eye contact without intending to. He smiled at you, and you felt an instant chill when you realized it was the most dangerous smile in both America and Mexico.
And the man slowly stood up before confidently walking towards you.
You stopped playing the piano immediately. The last note resonated in the air before it fell silent. One of your hands instinctively reached to the back, a familiar gesture, only to realize later that you hadn't brought your gun with you.
This was an unexpected situation for you, and the most unsettling part was that you had no idea of his intentions or what kind of danger might arise within the next few minutes.
Perhaps this plan leaked to Amado. Maybe you would die at his hands.
No matter how nervous you were, you tried to smile calmly back at him, the calmest you could be. Your heart pounded when he stopped right in front of you, closer than ever.
"You play the piano very well," was Amado's first sentence. "May I ask your name?"
"I'm Camila."
"And I'm Amado," he said, extending his hand. You shook hands, feeling like it was a dream, but the firm and rough palm confirmed it was real.
The man fell silent, contemplating something deeply in his heart. You didn't dare move again; you remained seated, still wary what was happening.
He must have a plan. That's what you're thinking right now
And Amado also had a plan for you, just not the kind you had imagined.
"I think I'll have to stay around here for a while. It would be good to have a friend with me. If you have no business and don't mind being my friend," he said,
You raised an eyebrow, almost letting your jaw drop.
You didn't react immediately. You knew what he wanted from you.
"Well, I'm just a musician. If you need..." You left a small gap for him to figure out. "I think you can contact some women from outside."
"No, no, not like that." Amado quickly waved his hand, looking surprised and chuckling at the same time. "I just want you to join me for a drink and sit with me as long as I stay here, that's all."
You blinked in astonishment, realizing that everything happening was beyond the mission and beyond expectations. No matter what, you have obtained what you want now, and you should leave as soon as you have the chance before anything bad happens.
But deep down, you also knew that this was an opportunity—a once-in-a-lifetime chance that might never come again.
You tried to smile again and chose to do the opposite of what you should do.
"Sure, why not, if you're paying"
You accept his offer
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Inside the modified black van, loud conversations in Spanish resonated. Before Diego's face emerged from the van's window, he glanced at his boss, who was waiting outside with American officers, his expression not looking too good.
"We can't contact Y/N anymore, but we know she's with Amado now."
The deputy police chief, who had just finished smoking a cigarette, exhaled a puff of smoke before squinting at Diego. "What does it mean that She's with Amado? Did they catch her?"
"Nah, I think she chose to stay willingly." Diego took off his glasses, a rare occurrence unless he was feeling stressed. "That idiot lured her to drink, and she said yes!. I've invited her before, and she refused all the time. But now she chooses to go with that scumbag drug dealer without a second thought!”
Julio chuckled, He smirked before extending his hand to slap him on the back. "Because you're not as handsome as he is, little boy."
"I don't see what's so funny." Walt spoke up, leaning against the van door with a tense expression: "She's in danger, and we need to get her out of there quickly."
"Calm down, White Boy." Julio's voice remained relaxed, knowing that the American officer genuinely cared for their lone teammate. "She's C.I.A. Somehow she managed to survive, right?"
"But the C.I.A. isn't God," Walt retorted. "She could have been shot and killed just like me and you."
Diego glanced at Walt and immediately decided that this was not about himself. So he quickly turned his face and stepped back into the van. There was a faint shout from one of the Mexican soldiers on the other side, suggesting, "If you guys want to fight, do it in a secluded place." Walt responded to the advice by raising his middle finger in return.
Such situations were common in the battle against drug trafficking. Sometimes the tension of the mission led to heated arguments
If Americans were like tongues, Mexicans were like teeth. Julio knew this truth well, as did Walt himself.
The Mexican man calmly lit up another cigarette, exhaling a cloud of white smoke from his mouth and nose. "Listen, Walt, I know that the C.I.A. is not a god. Americans like you have never been my gods, and I know Y/N is going to do something by herself. No one is controlling her. That means she believes in herself, and you should have faith in her too."
With his long, pointing finger, he directed it straight at Walt, locking him in an intense gaze. Fatigued eyes still held a spark. 'We're all tired, and we don't want anyone to die’ conveyed Julio through his gaze, leaving the DEA agent at a loss for words.
Walt wanted to trust in you, as Julio told him, but that didn't help alleviate the anxiety in his heart.
Because you were the youngest agent Walt had ever worked with. You were the same age as his younger brother, and you had a bright future ahead of you. Walt didn't want you to make a mistake, and he didn't want to do anything that would restrain you in any way.
Walt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a fresh cigarette being offered to him by Julio. Walt accepted the gesture by taking it and holding it between his lips, whispering a soft thank you. As Julio lit the cigarette for him,
They both stood there, smoking side by side, exchanging understanding through the smoke and silence. Walt gazed at the darkening sky as the streetlights gradually turned on one by one, illuminating both sides of the road. He took another deep smoke before turning to the person beside him and asking, "So, what do we do next?"
Julio smiled briefly, tapped the end of his own cigarette against the side mirror of the van, and let the ashes fall to the ground.
"All we can do is wait," he said.
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#narcos: mexico#narcos x reader#amado carrillo fuentes#walt breslin#narcos mexico netflix#narcos fic#amado carrillo fuentes x you#amado carrillo fuentes x reader#walt breslin x you#walt breslin x reader#jose maria yazpik#scoot mcnairy#narcos mexico fanfic#narcos mexico fanfiction#narcos: mexico tv series#Renegada♱
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GUNSHOT GUNSHOT BULLET WOUND --
-- one blink and you're gone;
NO EXIT, NO ESCAPE
Full Name: Ezra de la Cruz
Nickname(s): Ez, Cruz, de la Cruz
Age: 35
Date of Birth: September 7th, 1988.
Hometown: Houston, Texas
Current Location: New York, New York
Ethnicity: Colombian, Mexican
Nationality: American
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Orientation: Pansexual
Relationship Status: Single
Religion: Catholic
Occupation: Cortazar Cartel Underboss
Language(s) Spoken: English, Spanish
Allergies: Amoxcillin, Spinach
Addictions: Formerly nicotine
-> potentially triggering content, including: weapons, indicated abuse
Ezra finds out that the ultimate silence fills his brain the moment the cold metal barrel of a gun is pressed into his back. Maybe the sense of danger doesn't fully grasp him because it's his father, holding the gun. Maybe there's just something wrong with the way his brain is wired. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
The concept of loyalty and Brotherhood is forced into his blood the day he's old enough to understand, and then ripped right out of his hands when he's finally managed to grasp it. Ezra is seventeen when the Cortázar Cartel becomes the replacement of the gang his family has been a part of for as long as he knows, and suddenly, loyalty and home make sense.
The boy that once loved going for runs at night, that always caught himself feeling more comfortable hidden away in the dark, starts to blossom the best as a member of a group that rules the nightlife of the city that never sleeps. And Ezra, he takes the never sleeping to heart. From the day he finishes his education on, everything he does is dedicated to the craft of getting more, becoming more in the cartel. The role he slips into first is that of a driver - he's eyes and ears, at some point a dealer, and he climbs higher and higher and-
While what he saw of the Brotherhood felt like chains, this is freedom. Underboss feels bitter when taking someone else's place, and it's a recent promotion, but it tastes good while acting it out.
SPARE BULLETS
obsessed with Dulce de Leche, since his oldest and favorite cousin would always make it for him growing up
has a six year old son called Nicolas, Nick for short - he lives with his mother for safety reasons, but he visits him regularly - considers himself an okay-Dad, that mostly makes up for his lack of presents through ice cream
his father is one of the Cartel's drug dealers, but has been taking a few steps back due to sickness, he owns an Australian Shepherd called Lucky that Ezra often steals for walks -- has a decent relationship with his father, despite his minor abusive behavior towards him to "harden him out"
has symmetrical cross tattoos on both of his upper arms, just like his father (doesn't have them for religious purposes, but for his name)
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Definitely keep going, onwards with general infos on the Creel family!
You got it boss
So like they're obviously very inspired by the strex family because I loved that whole thing and I'm sad it's over. I'm going on a nostalgia trip.
The dad, Richard Creel, is mexican but was born in america and has always been wealthy. He was an exchange student in germany where he met Karsten in High school and they've been best friends since then. He had a small loan of 10 million dollars from his parents and founded Creelcore which was initially just a robotics company (they made Babsy, who was the first nurse at the hospital). He had a boy with his first wife (José Luis, Joe for friends) but then divorced and married Diana. They had Diego and Diva who are 5 years apart in age.
Dick is the diplomat in the family, he's extremely social and could make friends with anyone. He's the first one to try the peaceful approach before resorting to violence, but he's also the first one to say "Fuck the rules". He's a party guy like Karsten and the backyard barbecue gets absolutely wild. This happens weekly. He also goes golfing weekly and they have family dinner and church on sundays (they say they're catholic for public image but their true patron is La Santa Muerte).
This is already super long so I won't get too deep into it. The mom, Diana Contreras is from Sonora Mexico which is a state that has a huge problem with drug cartels. Her family was killed and she was trafficked during her youth, until she executed the leader and took over the gang. She went through several people like that using her feminine wiles, which earned her a ton of enemies so she had to flee to the US where she met Dick and they fell in love. She already had a background in drugs, so she and Joe started the pharma branch of the company (running both the legal and illegal side) And they created the happy pill which makes employees like Kevin stay content and compliant at their jobs.
She's the ice queen, hates social gatherings and is having an affair with her robot assistant.
Joe is first in line to inherit the company, he's married with 3 kids and has a robotic eye prosthetic after losing his while playing as kids (he was the kind of problem child who stole cars and freed animals from the zoo only to hunt them down himself, and when Diego arrived it was double trouble). But the eyepatch is more intimidating so he also wears that. There's maybe more but this is already so long lmao
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👑Hi ! 25+, She/Her, CEST.
Literacy/frequency: I'm literate-advanced literate. I can write beyond the discord limit, or faster replies, I adjust to the person I'm writing with but I like fairly detailed scenes. I'm quite active, if I like the rp a lot I can answer several times a day or once a day (we all have a life I understand that we can't always, it's the same for me, just warn).
Fandom: HOTD (AegonxAemond, Aegonxoc, Aemondxoc, modern or not, I have plenty of ideas), Sandman (ocxoc), Constantine DC universe (ocxoc), or crossover between Sandman and Hotd, I have a plot too.
Fandomless : Enemies to lovers, dark and conflicting but passionate stories.
Plot ideas: I have several plot ideas and if that doesn't inspire you, we can build some together with great pleasure.
Before a solar wave, two people meet for the first time, the tone rises, they argue. A few months after the apocalypse, one of the two is in danger and the other saves them. I have the whole story in more detail and editable if you are inspired. (MxM or MxF)
Two childhood friends who grew up together but were separated as teenagers reunite as adults; one is the leader of a major mafia gang and the other one of the best federal agents in the country. The agent will infiltrate the mafia for his work and find himself under the orders of his former childhood friend. (MxM or MxF I will write F and we can double if you need, I like stories with more than two characters)
A group of friends who have known each other since the orphanage where they grew up and later become a group of gangsters, going through prison, etc. (MxM, MxF, multiple partners, I'm pretty open!)
Two brothers/siblings/friends are kidnapped by a Bolivian cartel and thrown into the forest for a kind of manhunt, they get out of it together and in turn become, little by little, the leader of a gang which becomes powerful and seek revenge.
Triggers: This will be an adult RP, so no minors, preferably looking for people who are 20 years or older. I don't have any particular issues with FxF; I'm just not used to it, but I'm open to trying. There will be NSFW content, as I enjoy writing it, but it shouldn't be the only focus of the story - we need a real plot.
I have few limits, but I like to discuss them with the person before starting.
Other: I'm a talkative person who loves to exchange ideas, whether it's sharing Pinterest boards related to our RP or discussing everyday life topics - I'm open to chatting and even becoming friends. Despite having a full-time job, I can reply several times during the day and sometimes throughout the evening. I hate being ghosted and never do it myself.
So, if you survided this long shoot and you're the type who is super passionate and invested, enjoys creating stories, imagining adventures and worlds, sharing your latest musical discoveries, and sending silly gifs - let's connect! Please like this message to show you're interested!
#nominors #hotd #fandomless #talkative #mxm #mxf
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#rp#roleplay#hotd rp#sandman rp#oc rp#DC constantine rp#mxm#mxf#fandomless rp#original rp#nominors#talkative
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Hello fellow drukhari enjoyer.
I want to hear all about Kalista and the Split Tongue. Anything you wanna tell me. She looks great and there's not enough dark eldar content on my dash :)
There's scant records and data-indent on the Kabal of the Split Tongue and very little on its leading Archon. Still we will share here what information we've recovered through infocytes and neuro-conditionned interrogations.
Ruling the sub-realm of Xhiv-Thabbas, the Split Tongue are a Kabal in nothing but name. Propped up by "Archon" Kallista as a formidable force of pirates, reavers, bandits and outlaws, the Kabal is actually formed of hundreds, if not thousands of smaller bands, gangs and crews operating within their own districts and plying their own murderous business. The sub-realms isolated nature lead it to attract many outliers of Commorite society and fostered a more covert form of the violence oh-so common in mainline Dark Eldar society. Being a port-city, the realm attracts plenty of oddities and is noted for having a substantial slave and xenos population thriving despite the danger.
The "heart" of the Kabal itself is found in Kallista's own personal cartel of loyalists and close allies; these include the Incubi of the Shrine of the Howling Tide; the Wyches and Reavers of the Cult of the Severed Hand; the Haemonculi of the Execrated; the scourges and hellions of the Crimson Harpies and the various mercenary clades of the Sslyth and freelance halfborns aeldari.
Kallista's true identity is a closely guarded secret, dozens of decoys, neuro-gelded copycats and body-doubles appearing to claim the name and title. Many assassins have claimed her death yet none of them have taken root, leaving her iron grip on the port-city intact.
The Archon's rise is not well recorded, with mostly rumours and whispers serving to cement the fear and awe in her underlings and competitors. Some say she made dark deals with the citizens of Aelindrach, explaining the presence of living shadows and dreadful mandrake protectors anywhere she threads; more speak of an unknown entity possessing bodies and enacting an impossibly complex agenda that would bring the realm into darkness; few speak of a simple courtesan who spun lies and doubts in the hearts of the Old Blood kabals that once ruled the port.
Whatever truth or lies there is to these rumours, the fact remain the same; the Kabal of the Split Tongue and its Archon Kallista are as wily as they are ruthless; none of their rival has succeeded at rooting them out of their stronghold and their web of deceit, half-truths and lies have cemented their reputation as noteworthy upstarts.
What this infocyte report note as fact is that we cannot predict nor counter raids performed by this particular Kabal. Predictive algorithm are beffudle and our best Panopticons remain useless in the face of the exact and precise nature of their raids; particularly due to the extreme narrowness of their operations and their willingness to suffer tactical losses to achieve strategic victories. While unable to bring to bear the firepower and numbers of the Great Kabals of Commoragh, they remain a threat to all assets and facilities.
~Panopticos-Alpha Seterack Vanus Clade LXVII
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What are some of your favourite movies?
Thank you for the ask! (Don't take the numbers too seriously)
Midnight Cowboy (1969), dir. John Schlesinger - Joe Buck the Texan dishwasher goes to New York to hustle women but falls for the little scammer Rico Rizzo who offers him a place to stay when he in record-speed becomes homeless.
A New Leaf (1971), dir. Elaine May - Henry Graham, a rich man who has been living a very unsustainable lifestyle, is now broke. He wants to find a wife, kill her and then inheret her wealth. He ends up with Henrietta, a rich, family-less, botanist who is also a big clutz. ROMANCE.
Gilda (1946), dir. Charles Vidor - Johnny Farrell (bad bi rep) goes to Argentina and gets rescued from being mugged by the casino owner and tungston cartel boss Ballin Mundson, and starts working for him. One day Ballin has found himself an American wife, Gilda. Surprise, surprise. She's Johnny's ex. Drama. Amazing. Women's rights, as Johnny and Ballin are peak misogynistic.
The Roaring Twenties (1939), dir. Raoul Walsh - Eddie Bartlett returns home from the war and its rough being a veteran. He ends up working for the mob and then teams up with George Hally (who is >:)) and they go right to the top. There's like a love-gemoetrical shape. Jean Sherman, a performer, likes Lloyd Hart (friend of Eddie who works for him) but Eddie wants Jean. The singer Panama Smith yearns for Eddie. George and Eddie are married and divorced at the same time. Amazing. Love it.
Deadhead Miles (1972), dir. Vernon Zimmerman - Alan Arkin and Paul Benedict drive a truck. That's it. The music is great. The dialogue is interesting.
Harvey (1950), dir. Henry Koster - Elwood P. Dowd, a pleasant man living with his sister, has an invisible rabbit friend. People think he is mentally unwell, and his sister wants him put away. Pleasantness prevails! Long live kindness!
3:10 to Yuma (1957), dir. Delmer Daves - Dan Evans must regain his fatherly masculinity, he thinks, after his sons see him willingly hand their horses over to Ben Wade and his gang of outlaws etc etc. Because there's a drought, the Evans family also needs cash (for their little ranch), and so Dan agrees to help get Ben to prison in Yuma, aka. on the 3:10 train to Yuma. In Contention City, Dan and Ben are in the bridal suite, and Ben being a slut temptress tries to bribe Dan with cash into letting him go while >:) on the bridal bed. Amazing. Iconic.
The Wicker Man (1973), dir. Robin Hardy - Police sergeant Neil Howie goes to Summerisle to find the missing girl Rowan. Everybody there are unchristian sluts to Howie's horror. Unbeknownst to him, he is a fool. Very good.
Real Life (1979), dir. Albert Brooks - A fictional version of Albert Brooks wants to make a movie about real life! He gets himself a family and some scientists to study this thing. The problem is that Brooks is not completely stable and well... what is 'real life' on camera. Amazing! Love it!
Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978), dir. Philip Kaufman - Aliens are taking over and look just like us. Donald Sutherland and Brooke Adams are so <333333. If you've not seen it, it's kind of fun having seen the 1958 version first (the book isn't all that) so you get the little thing about the man running around all :'0. And, it's a good movie. Both are good.
I have many more. These are the ones I remember now :))) Thank you again :)))
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— BASICS
Name: Gabriel Aurelio Morelos, goes by Gabe.
Age / D.O.B.: 39 / March 29, 1984.
Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cisman, he / him / his, unlabeled and uncaring.
Hometown: Michoacán, Mexico.
Affiliation: Gang member (the Cortázar Cartel).
Job position: Bouncer at the Cancún, drug trafficker and dealer for the Cortázar Cartel, wannabe wildlife rehabilitator (watch the magic happen when he finds an abandoned animal).
Education: Completed schooling up until the age of 15, acquired a GED at age 20.
Relationship status: Single, divorced.
Children: Two children with two different women (Isabella, five, with Kamilah Marques, second and eldest child TBD).
Positive traits: Compassionate (mainly to animals), efficient, firm, loyal, stoic.
Negative traits: Calculating, critical, impatient, mechanical, sordid.
— BIOGRAPHY (CONTENT WARNING: mentions of drugs (trafficking and dealing), attempted murder, actual murder)
Born in Michoacán, Mexico in 1984, Gabriel had a troubled but ultimately loving family. While divorce affected his family, it ultimately gave him his half-brother and entirely new family members to love. Life wasn’t perfect, they struggled greatly with poverty and moving to a new home was routine, but he learned to take it all in stride. With community came unyielding loyalty for those who earned his trust and affections.
At the age of 18, he moved from Michoacán, Mexico to New York, New York. Initially, he had the plan to finish the rest of his schooling and pursue a degree in veterinary medicine. Unfortunately, he fell into the wrong crowd early on in 2003. This crowd is best known as the Cortázar Cartel. It started as casual, or as casual as it could be, pushing drugs and dealing to customers to help make ends meet. Around this time, he met a woman who he would quickly fall in love with.
For the next ten years, life was what one would expect it to be when involved in the Cortázars. He got married and had a child, yet his loyalty didn’t remain strictly to them. He balanced being a family man and a prominent drug trafficker / dealer as best as he could, despite the chaos that came with such a lifestyle that the latter presented. But, it was fool’s hope to expect that he could ever find such a balance. Divorce came in late 2013 / early 2014.
It gets worse before it gets better, as they say, and Gabriel is no stranger to that cruel fact of life. For awhile, he was homeless, so he threw himself deep into his duties for the Cortázar Cartel. His cut from trafficking and pushing went primarily to his ex-wife and child before it ever went to himself, wanting to ensure that they were cared for. Living on the streets, though, just isn’t for the faint of heart. On a warm summer’s night in 2015 came a robbery gone rogue because it’s easy to kick a man while he’s already down. A fight for the few material possessions he had left resulted in a stabbing, a near-fatal puncture in his chest that he wears the scar from to this day. He sought help but he did not seek law enforcement because he knew, knows, that there was nothing they could do for a man like him.
In 2016, he took matters into his own hand, finding the person responsible for his near death. In an act of revenge, a way to establish that he was not to be fucked with, he claimed a man’s life. Eye for an eye. The blood on his hands wasn’t unfamiliar, yet it was so fucking different than the violence he was used to. To this day, he doesn’t discuss it.
Late 2010s brought him his second child. It could only get better from here, right? It did. He got a job as a bouncer at the Cancún in 2018, eventually finding the stability needed to get his own apartment and care for his children outside of financial means.
Now, in 2023, he’s hardworking and diligent for the Cortázars, keeping shit straight at the Cancún with his no bullshit policy and ensuring that the drug money flows in as expected. He’s a familiar face in riots if you happen to pay attention, but he otherwise frequents your local animal shelters and exotic pet stores, often with his two children. Because ya just can’t take the nature / animal lover out of a vicious fighter and drug pusher.
— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS
Customers: This is just a given. If your muse did or still actively does drugs to any capacity, chances are Gabe dealt to them or still does. This could be a casual one-off sorta deal, or your muse is a regular customer for him.
Ex-wife: This is the mother of his first child and a woman he met around the time he first came to New York City at the age of 18. They were together for about 10 years or so, had a child and got married in this time, and eventually fell apart; resulting in divorce. Reasons for their divorce and other deets of their relationship can be discussed. (0/1)
Baby mamas: Ages, genders, and other details for the kids can be worked out. Again, the mother to his first child is his ex-wife, however the second child came after their divorce. This could have been from another committed relationship, a random one night stand, etc. He is actively involved in his children’s lives either way. No deadbeat vibes here. (1/2)
Roommate: New York City is expensive, he wants a nice apartment, but doesn’t quite have nice apartment money after all the other expenses come out. This led to the need for a roommate. This is ideally someone who is either a civilian or Cortázar affiliated to prevent any ugly situations but I’m open to all possibilities! Must be okay with his kids and exotic pets (not really, but it'd sure help). (0/1)
Half-brother: Su hermano, partner in crime (figuratively or literally), etc etc. His brother can be older or younger than him, and involvement with the Cortázars is up to you. While they only share one parent, they’re quite close. Keep in mind the FC used for this connection should be of Mexican/Indigenous descent. Because there aren’t many actors of Purépecha descent, a half-brother plot works best. (0/1)
Adversaries: [Barney voice] He’s wronged you, you wronged him, we’re a (un)happy faaaaaamily. Deets can be worked out as we plot. Given the nature of the beast, he’s likely brushed up against many people the wrong way because of his involvement with the Cortázars. As a general rule, he’s apprehensive and inherently dislikes other gangs until given a reason otherwise.
Cortázar connects: This is, for all intents and purposes, his found family. He tries very hard to not step on toes with his affiliates and has a profound respect for many of the members. This doesn’t mean it’s sunshine and rainbows, it never is or will be in a gang, but he’s proved his devotion to the Cortázar Cartel many times and that he would die for the cause if it comes down to it.
Person who patched him up: Immediately after his attack, Gabe sought medical help, though it's unlikely he went to the emergency room for this. Most likely he went to a medic or similarly savvy person, either in the Cortázar Cartel or otherwise, that he could trust to essentially save his life. An interesting idea would be a medical-savvy member from a rival gang helping him instead of leaving him for dead. (0/1)
People who let him crash at their place: What it says on the tin. He was homeless for about three years, so he would've couch-hopped pretty frequently and stayed with whoever would let him for short bursts.
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Wednesday, October 25, 2023
Meta Accused by States of Using Features to Lure Children to Instagram and Facebook
(NYT) Meta was sued by more than three dozen states on Tuesday for knowingly using features on Instagram and Facebook to hook children to its platforms, even as the company said its social media sites were safe for young people. In their complaint, the states said Meta had “designed psychologically manipulative product features to induce young users’ compulsive and extended use” of platforms like Instagram. The company’s algorithms were designed to push children and teenagers into rabbit holes of toxic and harmful content, the states said, with features like “infinite scroll” and persistent alerts used to hook young users. The attorneys general also charged Meta with violating a federal children’s online privacy law, accusing it of unlawfully collecting “the personal data of its youngest users” without their parents’ permission. “Meta has harnessed powerful and unprecedented technologies to entice, engage, and ultimately ensnare youth and teens,” the states said in their 233-page lawsuit. “Its motive is profit.” It’s unusual for so many states to come together to sue a tech giant for consumer harms. The coordination shows states are prioritizing the issue of children and online safety and combining legal resources to fight Meta, just as states had previously done for cases against Big Tobacco and Big Pharma companies.
Republican search for new US House leader returns to square one
(Reuters) Republicans, whose party infighting has paralyzed the U.S. House of Representatives for three weeks, tried on Monday to find consensus on a new speaker to lead the chamber and address funding needs for Israel, Ukraine and the federal government. Eight candidates to be speaker made their pitches to fellow Republicans at a 2-1/2 hour closed-door forum and answered questions about how they would handle the job. With a narrow majority of 221-212 in the House, it is not clear whether any Republican can get the votes needed to claim the speakership. The speaker position has this year been a flashpoint for factional strife between right-wing hardliners and more mainstream Republicans.
Day of bloodshed in southwest Mexico kills at least 19 people
(AP) A local security secretary and 12 police officers were shot dead in Guerrero state Monday, authorities said, the worst episode in a day of violence across southwestern Mexico that killed at least 19 people. Officials are finding themselves increasingly endangered in the region, where several powerful drug cartels continue to fight for control. According to figures from Common Cause, 341 police officers have been killed in Mexico so far this year. In 2022, at least 403 were slain.
Rio gangsters torch at least 35 buses after Brazil crime boss killed
(Reuters) Criminal groups set at least 35 buses on fire in the Brazilian city of Rio de Janeiro on Monday, according to the industry group that represents bus companies, after police killed a crime boss in an operation. The attacks on buses came after a police operation that killed the nephew of the leader of the state’s largest militia, according to the police. Rio’s so-called militias, often composed of current and former police officers, have become one of the region’s largest security threats. Originally set up as self-defense forces for poor neighborhoods blighted by drug gangs, they have now metastasized into criminal outfits operating in multiple different rackets.
Argentine economy minister and right-wing populist look to runoff
(AP) Argentina’s economy minister and the anti-establishment upstart he faces in a presidential runoff next month began competing Monday to shore up the moderate voters they need. Economy Minister Sergio Massa earned almost seven points more than chainsaw-wielding economist and freshman lawmaker Javier Milei in Sunday’s vote. Most polls had shown Massa slightly trailing, as voters had been expected to punish him for triple-digit inflation that has eaten away at purchasing power and boosted poverty. Massa focused his messaging on how Milei’s budget-slashing chainsaw would negatively affect citizens already struggling to make ends meet, showing his Peronist party’s power to mobilize Argentine voters.
A Glimpse Into Spain’s Future, Where Water Comes by Truck, Not Tap
(NYT) It was 10 a.m. when the villagers, clutching empty plastic containers, lined up behind the tanker truck of drinking water. A cake shop owner arrived with four big jugs for his pastries. Workers from a retirement home carried two dozen bottles back on wheelchairs for their wards. And a mother of four loaded her trunk with fresh water to wash vegetables and cook pasta. Spain has been blighted by a long-running drought, caused by record-high temperatures in 2022, a string of heat waves in 2023, and almost three years of reduced rainfall. Throughout the country, reservoirs have been depleted; in the worst-affected areas, they are at less than 20 percent of their capacity. But few places on the continent have been as badly hit as tiny Pozoblanco, a village of about 18,000 in southern Spain, where the daily struggle for drinkable water has become a glimpse of what may lie ahead for parts of Europe where drought and extreme heat have become increasingly common.
Commando Raids Unnerving Russia in Crimea
(NYT) Late one evening this month, two Ukrainian commandos eased into a side street in Kyiv in a battered SUV. Back from a dangerous nighttime assault on Russian positions in the Crimean Peninsula, they slipped into a sparsely furnished apartment where they sat at desks, weary and a little disheveled, and described their latest operation in matter-of-fact fashion. The two men had joined more than 30 others racing more than 100 miles across the western Black Sea on jet skis to attack critical Russian defense installations before making their getaway, the second Ukrainian amphibious raid in six weeks. The raids were part of a series of punishing attacks on Crimea by Ukrainian forces since midsummer that have succeeded in disabling some Russian air-defense systems and damaging naval repair yards at Sevastopol. Russia later moved 10 warships from Sevastopol on the west coast of Crimea to the port of Novorossiysk on the Russian mainland, though U.S. officials say it remains unclear whether the withdrawals were tied to security concerns or just a regular rotation. But there is no denying that attacks within Crimea are increasing, and may rise even further with the new ATACMS long-range missiles just delivered from the United States. “A dynamic, deep strike battle is underway,” British military intelligence said in a statement.
US renews warning it will defend Philippines after incidents with Chinese vessels in South China Sea
(AP) The United States renewed a warning Monday that it would defend the Philippines in case of an armed attack under a 1951 treaty, after Chinese ships blocked and collided with two Filipino vessels off a contested shoal in the South China Sea. Philippine diplomats summoned a Chinese Embassy official in Manila on Monday for a strongly worded protest following Sunday’s collisions off Second Thomas Shoal. No injuries were reported but the encounters damaged a Philippine coast guard ship and a wooden-hulled supply boat operated by navy personnel, officials said. The Philippines and other neighbors of China have resisted Beijing’s sweeping territorial claims over virtually the entire South China Sea, and some, like Manila, have sought U.S. military support as incidents multiply.
Continued Escalation
(NYT) Israel launched more than 400 strikes against alleged Hamas targets in Gaza overnight, killing dozens of militants, including three deputy commanders, the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) announced on Tuesday. The assault followed another wave of Israeli strikes that the IDF claimed hit 320 militant targets in Gaza the day before. According to the Hamas-run Gaza Health Ministry, more than 700 Palestinians were killed during the overnight strikes—the highest 24-hour death toll since the Israel-Hamas war began on Oct. 7. If confirmed, that would bring the total number of Palestinians killed to almost 5,800 people, including around 2,360 children. Around 1,400 Israelis have been killed, and Hamas is holding more than 200 people hostage, having only released four people thus far. As strikes escalate and Israel prepares for a ground invasion, the United Nations is asking Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to allow more aid into Gaza. The World Health Organization (WHO) warned on Tuesday that nearly two-thirds of all health facilities in the Gaza Strip, including 12 out of 35 hospitals, are no longer functioning.
Developing World Sees Double Standard in West’s Actions in Gaza and Ukraine
(NYT) For 20 months, the Biden administration has attempted to stake out the moral high ground against Russia, condemning its brutal war on Ukraine for indiscriminately killing civilians. The argument resonated in much of the West, but less so in other parts of the world, which viewed the war as more of a great-power conflict and declined to participate in sanctions or otherwise isolate Russia. Now, as Israel bombards the Gaza Strip, killing more than 4,300 people since Oct. 7, the Biden administration’s unwavering support risks creating new headwinds in its efforts to win over global public opinion. Israel’s attack on Gaza, its threats to mount a ground invasion and America’s tight embrace of its most important Mideast ally have prompted cries of hypocrisy. “Anywhere else, attacking civilian infrastructure and deliberately starving an entire population of food, water, basic necessities would be condemned, accountability would be enforced,” said King Abdullah. “International law loses all value if it is implemented selectively.” Palestinians have criticized Western capitals for not expressing outrage over the bombing of Gaza similar to their labeling of Russian missile attacks against Ukrainian cities and infrastructure as “barbaric” and “crimes against humanity.”
Israel prepares for months-long war
(BBC) Israel’s military campaign in Gaza “may take a month, two or three”, its defence minister Yoav Gallant said on Sunday, adding the next stage of the war, a widely-expected ground invasion, would “come soon”. But Western leaders who’ve publicly embraced Israel’s right to defend itself are also sending messages, in public and private, about the need to “avoid rushing forward in rage”, explains our chief international correspondent Lyse Doucet. A pause could give more time to free more than 200 hostages held in Gaza, help foreign nationals to get out of the enclave, and let in more desperately needed aid. Humanitarian convoys are barely trickling into Gaza from Egypt while the situation on the ground is “catastrophic”, according to a Red Cross spokeswoman.
‘My daughters don’t understand that we cannot return.’
(BBC) Rushdi Abualouf of BBC News is in Gaza reporting on a conflict he cannot escape from. He has shared with us his personal experience, after he had to relocate his family four times in the past two weeks: Two days ago, my wife and children nearly died. They were about to leave for the day to meet me when an Israeli drone attack punched through the top floor of a four-storey building in Khan Younis, Gaza. My nine-year-old twin daughters ran out into the street screaming, separated from their mother, who was struck in the head by a piece of rubble. My daughters have had to leave behind everything they love in Gaza City and head south—their school, their friends, their horse riding club, their favourite pizza shop. Both of them are constantly asking to go back there, to relative normality. They are begging to go back. They don’t understand that we cannot return.
Want to be sharper? Try golf or walking
(Yahoo News) A new study of 25 healthy golfers age 65 and over found that playing 18 holes of golf or walking 3.7 miles significantly improved their immediate cognitive function. The research, which was published in BMJ Open Sport & Exercise Medicine, underscores “the value of age-appropriate aerobic exercise,” said Julia Kettinen, the first author of the article and a doctoral researcher in sports and exercise medicine at the University of Eastern Finland. It seems that the walking element is key here: Research consistently shows that walking has enormous health benefits, from reducing risk of heart disease and dementia to improving the quality and duration of your sleep.
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Odette Carmine headcanons
Note: I'm new to the fan content scene on Tumblr, still figuring things out! I’m going to be making headcanons based on different fictional characters I adore, from different franchises/fandoms!
Odette Carmine is the second daughter of Carmilla Carmine, one of the overlords in the show Hazbin Hotel on Amazon Prime. Odette has about 25 seconds of screen time and two spoken lines, more than her sister but still very little. She’s great and I’d love to share my personal headcanon opinions with you all!
NSFW/SFW, Mature themes: discussion of death, discussion of cartels, discussions of weapons and violence, discussion of murder and a planned attack on a family, family themes, sexuality, pronouns, discussions of blood.
PERSONALITY HEADCANONS.
The following headcanons discuss what I think she would’ve been like on earth and what she’s like in hell.
-Odette is Carmilla’s oldest daughter, 22 years old physically and her soul is about 29 years old.
-Odette identifies as female, with she/her pronouns.
-Odette sees herself as aroace, having no interest in any kind of relationship, whether romantic or sexual. She prefers to focus on her work.
-She’s fluent in English, Spanish, French, Japanese, Hindi and Portuguese.
-She looks like a mix of both her parents, with her mother’s pale skin and eyes, and her father’s slightly blonde hair and bad eyesight.
-Her glasses are for far-sightedness, she struggles to see people and objects close to her clearly. In hell her glasses double as a magnifying glass for when she’s working on her projects.
-She helps Clara deliver parts and weapons around the pentagram but mostly likes helping Carmilla with making weapons, she’s very clever and always comes up with new designs.
-She loves Clara but doesn’t show it as much as her sister does.
-Odette has anxiety due to her death and can’t handle seeing her family hurt.
ROOM HEADCANONS.
Because every demon needs a safe place to call home, these are the headcanons I have for Odette’s room in the Carmine Mansion, down in hell!
-Odette likes everything to be stylish, clean with surgical precision. Her room has white walls and a black tiled floor.
-All her furniture is either white or black, and neatly organised for precise work.
-She has two hints of colour in her room; a picture of her, her mother and sister on her desk, and a red potted plant, a beautiful vine with vibrant red flowers to remind her of nature’s beauty.
!!MATURE THEMES AHEAD!!: discussion of death, discussion of cartels, discussions of weapons and violence, discussion of murder and a planned attack on a family.
The following headcanons discuss the surroundings of Odette’s death.
Family headcanon: Carmilla’s ex husband left her shortly after Clara’s birth, leaving her with two young daughters in a broken city in Mexico. Carmilla entered the weapons business, working for a well known and dangerous cartel. She started out delivering weapons but learned how to make them for a bigger payout. As her daughters grew up, she took bigger, more risky jobs to be able to protect them. One night a rival gang broke into their house and killed the family in cold blood.
-Odette knew their attackers. Before she entered the business with her mother and sister, Odette had a friend, a guy who lived near them in the neighbourhood.
-Her friend ended up joining the rival cartel for protection, though Odette assumed he was dead since he disappeared without a trace.
-Odette was asleep, cuddled up with Carmilla, when the rival gang burst into their home. She was the last to wake up.
-When Carmilla rushed to help Clara, Odette was still sleepy. Her old friend pulled her off of the couch and forced her to her knees with a gun to her head.
-Her glasses were knocked off so she couldn’t see, she could only hear her sister struggling to breathe, her confused and pained whimpers, and her mother’s yelling to let her baby go, and take her instead.
-Odette begged, not for her life, but for her sister’s. She was closest to Clara when her sister was shot, and lived the rest of her life with her sister’s blood on her face.
-She managed to throw the ex friend holding her down off and made a break for the door, but was shot two times, once in her right thigh and once in the back of the head.
-In hell she has a limp from the shot to her thigh, sometimes she uses a cane for support.
LIKES/DISLIKES HEADCANONS.
Foods, colours, animals, and everything in between!
-Food: Odette loves sour foods, mostly the green apple flavoured sour patch kids. Those don’t exist in hell, but there’s an alternative, sour angels! She’s really not a fan of sweet flavours, they distract her from her work.
-Colours: Odette likes cleanliness and organisation, so shades of white and black are her favourite colours. She does enjoy purple, too, but the brighter the colour, the worse it is in her mind.
-Animals: She really likes cats, with their calm and laid back nature, and because they won’t bother her. She’s terrified of mice, tiny scurrying feet disrupting her work.
-Music: Odette loves to work with soft classical music in the background, it helps her focus and relax both at the same time! She dislikes rock music, the louder and higher the tones, the more she hates it.
-Movies: Odette likes watching documentaries about nature and how things are made, they even give her inspiration for new types of weapons. A lot of her weapons are based on animals or historical weapons.
-A weird collection she has: Her own old or broken glasses, it sounds weird but she breaks them often during training or inventing. She’s not clumsy, just too ambitious.
-A guilty pleasure: Hanging out with her sister, she’ll never admit it, and mostly complains when Clara hangs out with her, but she really likes the company.
-Her biggest fear: Being forgotten by the people she loves, she’s heard a lot of stories about people being abandoned and she doesn’t want that, it terrifies her. She puts so much work into her weapons just so her family won’t forget her.
CHARACTER HEADCANONS
How does Odette fall into the ensemble of hell? Who would she bond with, and who would she hate?
-Who from the entire cast would she hate the most?
Angels, but specifically Adam. Not because of his awful morals, but because of the music that seems to accompany him everywhere, it hurts her ears.
-If she met the Hazbin Hotel staff and inhabitants, who would she bond with?
Sir Pentious, the two would love to hang out and tinker on new weapons together!
-Who would she most likely have a song with? About what?
The same as Clara! With her mother and sister, a song about protecting each other no matter what, almost like an “Out for love” reprise
Thank you for reading all the way through!! I’m planning on making way more headcanons in the future! Feel free to ask for specific characters/headcanons in the comments!
A list of future projects:
-Carmilla Carmine
-Zestial Morde
-Lute
-Adam
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Content & Trigger Warnings
This is for people who use tumblr exclusively from mobile devices and therefore are unable to view the pages from the desktop version.
Sing to Me is a story resolving around mental health, trauma recovery and healing. Therefore it is possible that certain themes, topics and scenes can be emotionally taxing to the reader. I do not recommend this story to younger people for a reason — mainly because some aspects of it can be very heavy on the heart.
Please refrain from reading Sing to Me if you’re feeling mentally unwell and are at risk of self-harming behaviour, have suicidal thoughts and/or urges or are otherwise at risk for self-damaging behaviours. It is better to stay safe than be sorry later.
Recovering from (complex) trauma is unfortunately a very difficult process. Usually when starting therapy, a patient is informed that they may feel worse at the beginning before they feel better. This is the case in the story as well – the protagonists will go through constant ups and downs and sometimes these lower points are very low. Anyone who struggles with mental health issues due to (childhood) trauma might know what I am talking about, so please take my warning above seriously.
This story, however, is not trauma porn – it is an accurate depiction of complex PTSD as well as other mental health conditions and how they affect the person struggling with those. My detailed thoughts on fiction and I how approach darker themes and topics in my own writing can be found here.
Content/Trigger Warnings for the Sing to Me Series
realistic depictions of the following disorders:
Complex PTSD (incl. paranoid pseudo-psychosis)
Dissociative Identity Disorder
Anti-Social Personality Disorder
Substance Use Disorder
Polytoxicomania
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder
Compulsive Sexual Behaviour Disorder (also known as hypersexuality)
Self-Harm (not very graphic)
Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation and suicide attempts (these may be slightly graphic in the description of what the character thinks and feels but will not be graphic in the physical aspect of acting on them)
Homicidal Thoughts/Ideation
Intrusive thoughts (about violence, homicide as well as cannibalism)
Paranoid delusions
(Canon-Typical) Violence, Gang/Cartel violence → This will not exceed the violence seen in the MGS/R series, or the one seen in the games The Last of Us Part 1 & 2
Recreational use of chemical drugs incl. the feeling and experience of being high on various substances
overdosing (not yet decided if it will be included)
discussion/mention of sexual assault → a character will open up about their SA trauma to another character, but there will be no detailed description/scene of the assault
mentions (≠ detailed descriptions) of what went down with Child Soldiers during the first Liberian Civil War → abuse, torture, child sexual abuse, murder of their peers, witnessing of ritualistic cannibalism (this information is based on IRL historical evidence/witness reports)
transphobia including an incident of violence motivated by transphobia (by antagonists only)
mentions and/or parallels to real life historical events of violent nature
All of the topics above will be resolved throughout the story through the means of trauma therapy, emotional support, conflict resolution as well as cathartic acts of revenge and justice for the victim(s) of abuse and assault.
Sing to Me is not a tragedy. This story is also an emotional hurt/comfort one and the lighter moments are balancing out the darker ones.
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𝖍𝖎𝖎 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 !! ♡ nothing like ringing in the new year with an updated permanent writing call !! my name is dana (25f) and i am eternally seeking solid 21+ partners for slice of life content on discord !! i am a multi-muse writer seeking all connections (mxf, mxm, fxf) all the time. ***note: i am very selective regarding mxm plots. i pen morally grey muses who originate from a variety of backgrounds and belong to a variety of age ranges. writing-wise, i am always seeking to capture life in all its beauty and wretchedness as closely as possible and, because of this, mature themes will present themselves throughout the course of my writing. ***please, please, p l e a s e read my guidelines for more information on this, as some of the content i touch on may be distressing/disturbing depending on one’s tolerance. i am seeking writers who are interested in creating constellations of sorts with our muses, ones that can then form an intricate, exciting universe for all our bbys. that being said, if you also enjoy playing out not just romantic connections but platonic/familial/work-related/etc. ones, i’m the writer for you !! pls see content below for more information:
guidelines | my muses | ‘banned’ muse list
***D I S C L A I M E R S : i do NOT “double” so pls don’t ask !! in my experience, “doubling” almost always leads to unnecessary stress, pressure, and one story going neglected. additionally, i no longer collaborate with writers that only pen female and/or sub muses. PLEASE do not use me for my male muses, it’s extremely evident when someone is doing this and i don’t take to it kindly. all of this is non-negotiable territory for me. roleplaying should be a fun exercise in creativity, literacy, and leisure, that’s the whole point !! therefore, i am exclusively seeking writers who lovingly pen a strong, diverse array of muses and wish to bring engaging stories to life, collaboratively. mumus all the way ♡
i am always on the hunt for the following (this isn’t a comprehensive list):
age gaps. age gaps in all their glory, especially if it’s a younger man x older woman dynamic. exploring the excitement but also the struggles of individuals attempting to make something work whilst being in two completely different stages of life.
forbidden relationships. for whatever reason, they shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t possibly be able to make it work, but that sure as hell doesn’t stop them from trying.
toxic lovers. the on-again-off-again lovers, the lovers who know that it would be the best for both of them to just let go but cannot find themselves doing so, the jealous, obsessive, the deranged, the bonnie and clydes, the generally unhinged intertwining themselves together. just, please.
friends-to-lovers. this one speaks for itself !!
exes. see description above :)
throuples, throuples, throuples baby !! i am mostly seeking an mxfxf, but i could also be swayed into mxfxm, fxfxf, and maybe an mxmxm (under very selective circumstances.)
growing pains. the agony that is the human existence, especially during the young adult years where everyone is just trying to orient themselves to what life is about.
crime. cartels, mafias, gangs, the luxury but also the grime and danger that comes with operating underground, in the shadows of polite society.
apartment mumus. i can’t get enough of these !! any opportunities to integrate a diverse set of muses into one setting and play out their lives/how they intertwine, i am there for.
if any of this captures your interest, please don’t hesitate to drop a lil ♡ below or feel free to reach out directly !!
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