#yeah….. ugh i have to still drive home from the station. and hope my car is still there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

punk4ndisorderly · 11 months

Text

light on

The one where Y/N is the daughter of a legendary Team USA coach and used to attend the development program with the boys. 8 years after they last saw each other in person, a reunion brings Jack and Y/N back into each other’s lives... and hearts.

if you keep the light on, i'll keep the light on

XVI XVII - fools rush in (where angels fear to tread) XVIII

Y/N Y/L/N wasn’t one to run away. She never turned her back on a challenge or a problem. Nothing made her take a step back, not even the stickiest of situations. The infamous coach's daughter always grabbed the bull by its horns. But, as soon as Jack Hughes confessed having feelings for her, she shut down. From that moment on, all she could hear was static, as his lips continued moving, until she blurted out a simple oh.

The look on his face was one Y/N would never forget, as they gazed at each other under the moonlight and billions of bright stars. He stood there waiting, hopeful she’d add something to the discourse marker she’d managed to muster at first.

A quick I have to go escaped her mouth, turning away from her friend in a haste, fastening her pace in fear he’d catch up.

As she approached the log trellis, the teacher realized he hadn’t been following her. From afar, Y/N could distinguish his tall frame by the tree where, less than a couple of minutes before, they had shared their first kiss.

Their first kiss.

Her mind was racing a thousand miles an hour, his taste still imprinted on her now semi-smudged lips, a red flush staining her cheeks and her heart thumping loudly in her chest. She felt like a deer caught in headlights, completely blindsided, not by the kiss and Jack’s words, but by the way they had woken in her the need for more. More kisses. More gentle touches. More embraces. More heartfelt speeches. And, god, did that mortify her.

Celebration, by Kool & The Gang was playing in the speakers, as the live band was given a well-deserved break. Y/N glanced around the venue, spotting several of her friends. Finding River on the dancefloor, hopping around in a circle with little kids, she rushed to his side, tapping his shoulder to get his attention.

“Do you mind if I take off? Dad is driving you guys to the airport, right?”

“Yeah, dad’s got us covered. It’s still so early though, what happened?” her brother inquired, seeing the distressed look on his little sister's face.

“I need to get home to my girl…” the doctor lied. “She called asking me to… I’m sorry.”

“Ugh, moms.” the groom jokingly groaned, hugging his maid of honor. “Alright, go. You know what to do with David’s car, right?”

“Yes, take it back to your place, park it in the garage, lock up.”

“Keys?”

“Home.”

“Not your set of my house keys, you dork. The car keys. Do you know where they are?”

“I- ”

“Our room, in the bedside table’s first drawer.”

“Thanks, Riv… It was an amazing wedding.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” he smiled proudly, bumping hos hip against Y/N's.

“Absolutely.” the doctor replied, preparing herself to leave.

“Hey!” River called out, waiting for his sister to stop and face him again. “Thank you. For everything.”

Y/N acknowledged hid gratitude with a small smile, moving to quickly say goodbye to her parents and her friends, pick up her bag and David’s car keys from the cabin and get on the road.

The doctor desperately needed to clear her head and process the turn of events. A wave of remorse washed over her as she reached the gated community’s exit and drove past them without looking back.

What was she doing? What was he thinking? How was she supposed to handle the storm of emotions brewing up inside her at that very moment?

Seeing that David’s car was running out of fuel, Y/N exited the highway to pull up at a gas station. The cool breeze brought her out of the current state of self-induced shock forcing her to take a deep breath and slow her heart rate. While the helpful employee filled up the tank, she turned on the radio, hoping loud music would help drown out the sound of Jack's words, which were still resounding in her ears.

Skipping through several radio stations, the doctor settled for the only one that wasn’t playing sappy love songs.

Jack stood there, helpless and frozen, as the woman he had professed his affection to walked away from him, quickly disappearing from his sight, back to the ever-growing party in the trellis.

The Devils' player thought he’d feel crushed if she rejected him, but he was surprised to discover that inside him resided a glimmer of hope. The only thing he wasn’t sure of was whether it was hope for something more or simply just hope for normalcy. Maybe he hadn’t completely screwed up their friendship. Y/N had always been the reasonable one and he knew that, above everything else, they were good friends.

For a moment, while the brunette man held her face in his hands and their lips were connected in a kiss, he believed her heart had ignited as his did. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

Running his fingers through his grown-out hair, Jack let out a deep sigh. The relief he had felt once the words had rushed out of his mouth was replaced with concern for Y/N. There was no denying his confession had left her stunned and speechless. He fought the natural instinct to hide after his ego was bruised and headed back to the venue, wanting to make sure that she was okay. As soon as he stepped foot inside, Trevor put him in a headlock, cheering triumphantly.

“My man!”

“Jesus, Z, let go of me.” Jack grunted, struggling to free himself from his friend’s tight hold.

“Damn, dude, I didn’t think you had in you… Thank god you found a pair of balls!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” the Devils' player huffed, untangling himself from Trevor's embrace and scanning through the crowd, looking for Y/N.

“You told her! I know you did. She came in here all red and disheveled, telling everyone she was going home.” his friend stated, making quotation marks using his fingers. “But I saw her sneak into the cabin a few minutes ago. You’re fast on track, aren’t you, you dirty bastard?” he teased, elbowing Jack's side.

The brunette man slapped Trevor in the back of his head, annoyed over his bad timing and apparent lack of sensibility.

“Okay, okay, I won’t make any remarks about your sex life again, chill.”

“You said she was at the cabin?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah. If you need protection, you know where to – okay, you’re walking away. Very polite.” the blond man grumbled, stirring his Long Island iced tea with the small umbrella that came with it. “Ellen would be appalled!”

* Jack swung the front door open, after nearly tripping while skipping three steps at a time to get there. The living room was empty, not a flicker of light inside illuminating it, encouraging him to check the bedrooms.

Their room appeared to be untouched, every trace of her presence erased from it. By that time, Y/N was probably long gone.

The Devils' player sat down on the edge of the bed they had slept in the night before, his head deciding to replay the entire weekend again. The laughter, the confessions, the stares, the adoring smiles. Whatever happened from that point on, he’d always remember the way he felt when his lips touched hers, when her big eyes looked into his, when her tiny frame fit perfectly in his as they slept.

“Jack?”

He glanced at the door, finding Leo peeping through it with an inquisitive look on his face.

“What’s up, little man?”

“Are you okay?” the little boy asked, coming in, accompanied by River and David’s three dogs, who ran up to the Devils' player excitedly, placing their paws on his legs, waiting for him to pet them.

“Hey, guys! Aren’t you all fired up?” he laughed at his furry friends, that were now competing for his attention, their tails wagging rapidly from side to side. “Yeah. I am. Why wouldn’t I be, Leo?”

“Y/N left and she looked worried, you came after her and now you’re sitting here like you’ve been grounded.”

“You followed me inside to come check up on me?” Jack prodded, receiving a simple nod in response. “Do your parents know where you are?”

“No…. You were walking really fast.” Leo admitted, looking down at his feet.

“You shouldn’t have done that… Your mom must be losing it by now, buddy. Come on, I’ll take you back to the reception.” he offered, getting up and leading the seven-year-old by his shoulders, followed closely by their three furry companions.

“I know…” the boy uttered. “Sorry, Jack.”

“For what?” the hockey player raised an eyebrow, as he accompanied Sean's son to the venue.

“I know you like Y/N and you’re sad she left. I’m sorry about that.”

Jack looked back at the cabin one more time, forcing himself to walk away. “Me too, Leo. Me too.”

The doctor held her daughter’s sleeping body in her arms as she hurried inside to get her to bed, struggling to carry her luggage as she did so.

Giving her ex-husband nothing more than an I just missed her and I’m really tired as an excuse to have left River and David’s wedding that early, Y/N drove to her house, at two in the morning, wanting nothing more than to be with her girl and her girl only. Back to normal. If everything went back to the way it was before the reunion she wouldn’t get hurt. She couldn’t get hurt. Not again.

Laying Joey on the bed and pulling the covers over her tiny frame, the petite woman immediately took off her shoes, heading to her room, where she hastily undressed herself, jumping into the shower.

Her beautiful hairdo fell apart as she took off the tiny bobby pins that held it in their restraints. Y/N's locks cascaded down her bare shoulders, while she washed off the physical remnants of Jack's touch from the skin he had traced with the tip of his fingers throughout the day.

The burning hot water relaxed her tense back muscles and tired legs, but it couldn’t ease her mind. It raced even faster than before, now that there was no music, no sound to be heard other than the antagonistic voices in her head. There were mostly thoughts of incredulity, confusion and denial but, a tiny little voice in the back of her mind reminded her that, before she pulled back, she had lingered on his kiss and reveled in the way his lips felt against hers. Taking a deep breath, the doctor got out of the shower, dripping her dripping wet, naked body in a soft towel.

Running her hands through her damp hair, Y/N looked up at the vintage mirror above the washbasin, her eyes meeting her reflection.

“Shit!” she cursed out once she saw the black streaks of her eyeliner and mascara staining her cheeks.

She had neglected to remover her makeup before taking a shower, which went against every rule she had established for herself when it came to skincare. She took pride in how well she treated her skin and how it still resisted the toll the sun took on most people’s complexion.

Taking the makeup remover and a pad from a drawer, applying the baby blue liquid on the cotton, Y/N ran it softly all over her face, avoiding rubbing it in. Ending her nighttime routine by brushing her pearly white teeth, her hair, and then lightly tapping an overnight mask onto her skin, the teacher padded to her large, empty bed.

All she could hear now was the steady rhythm of her heart, demanding her to feel something. Anything.

Reaching for her phone, buried deep in her carry-on, she quickly dialed a number she’d known by heart for years.

“Hello?” Jack answered his phone, a hint of uncertainty laced in his voice.

“Baby!”

“Oh…” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose yet again, hearing a cheery female voice coming from the other end. “Hi mom.”

“Gee, no need to get that excited when you get a call from your mother!” Ellen chuckled.

“Sorry.” the brunette man muttered, clearing his throat as Alex walked by, obviously determined to do his best to disrupt his call, as usual. “It’s…” he stopped to take a glance at his wristwatch. “Really late. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I’m just playing cards with dad. He's kicking my ass.”

“As usual.” Jack teased, now in a lighter mood.

“Ouch! Seriously?”

“We all know dad is the best player in our family.”

“Yeah… I know…” the older woman agreed. “Anyway, just wanted to check in on you. “How’s the wedding going?”

Alex was now prancing back and forth in front of him, dancing the tango with a nonexistent partner. Dipping the make-believe dancer, he proceeded to kiss them passionately, making loud noises as he did.

“Oh, Jack, yes, kiss me. Kiss me right there.” his friend moaned in a pitchy voice.

The Devils' player rolled his eyes jokingly, stretching his leg to lightly kick his behind as his way of ordering him to go away.

“It’s going great, yeah.” he answered his mother.

“How’s Y/N?” Ellen Hughes prodded not-so-subtly.

“Oh, I see what this is about.”

“What?”

“Trevor's your mole, isn’t he? He told you about what happened.” Jack stated.

Alex stopped fooling around, his curiosity peaking at that very moment, wondering what Trevor has been babbling to Jack’s mother about.

“Well, Trevor keeps Luke posted, and Luke, as you know, isn’t that hard to bribe.” his mother admitted.

“Did you make him pizza for dinner?”

“Chocolate chip cookies as well.” Ellen added, glancing at her husband, who was shuffling the cards with his eyes set on her.

“Are you guys still betting on my love life?”

“Of course not!” the older woman protested, feigning hurt. “Well, kind of. But you know it’s just our competitive nature coming out. We all love you and want you to be happy.”

“You guys are hopeless… I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Love you.” Jack said softly, too tired to fight his doting mother, hanging up after she bid him goodbye.

Shoving his large phone in his pocket and doing the same with his hands, he walked around the venue, watching everyone having a good time from the outside.

The guests continued to go about the celebration, oblivious to the turmoil inside the hockey player's head. Should he call her? Text her? The worry he was feeling clouded his judgement as he looked up her number on his phone.

“No, you’re not doing that.” Trevor stated, grabbing the mobile device from his hands. “I’m keeping this in my possession to stop you from being clingy.”

“I was just going to check if she’s okay, alright? I think I scared her off.”

“Give her time, man. Junior will reach out to you when she’s ready to talk, don’t worry.”

Jack showed his friend a small smile, patting his shoulder.

“You’re kind of wise at two-thirty in the morning, hu?”

“Call me Trevoda.”

“What is a Trevoda, exactly?”

“Me as Yoda. Duh.” Trevor explained, as if it was obvious.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely, Tr-” the singer stopped himself, a smirk playing on his lips. “Trevoda.”

“Mock me all you want, I may become bigger than Deepak Chopra one day.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Y/N Y/L/N wasn’t one to run away. She never turned her back on a challenge or a problem. Nothing made her take a step back, not even the stickiest of situations. The doctor always grabbed the bull by its horns. But the morning after one of her closest friend’s wedding, Y/N felt like the bull had run her over with such violence she swore she had bruises all over her soul. The confusion, the craving of something more, the history she couldn’t rewrite. They all took a toll on a soul that had been nearly crushed years ago and had, since then, wanted nothing more than peace.

The doorbell rung loudly, announcing Cole's arrival. When Y/N called him in the early hours of the morning, Cole could tell by the tone of her voice the conversation they were about to have wasn’t supposed to happen over the phone. Wherever they were, whoever they were with, they had always made sure to be there for each other in times of need, and he assured her he'd come over in the morning with breakfast to discuss whatever had happened at River and David’s wedding.

Rubbing her tired eyes with the back of her hands and looking away from any mirrors or reflective surfaces she crossed paths with on her way to the front of her house, the teacher used the peephole to confirm the people waiting outside were Cole and Olive, her friendholding several paper bags in his hands. She quickly unlocked the door, opening her arms wide to immediately hug the friendly dog. “How’s my favorite doing today?” Y/N, kissing her head.

“A little bit tired, but I’m okay…" Cole replied, jokingly. "Where’s Jo?”

“She’s still asleep. Let Olivia loose and I bet she'll get her and the pup up."

The blond man did as suggested, telling his faithful partner to go get Joey and Finn.

The coach's daughter turned to him, one eye closed and a lopsided smile on her face.

“Hey.” his friend greeted her, setting the bags he had brought on the floor.

“Hi.” Y/N sighed, being pulled into a tight hug.

The pair stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, finding comfort in their decade-old friendship. Loud shrieks were heard from the stairwell, letting them know Joey wascoming down to get their sugary breakfast, followed closely by a very excited Olive and Finn. Y/N turned to them, placing both of her hands on her hips.

“I was thinking you could have breakfast in the living room today… Spongebob’s probably on right now… What do you say?”

Joey nodded, smiling up at her mother.

“You’re the best, mommy!” her daughter cheered, hugging her legs.

“Alright, lovebug, come on, let’s get you some food.” she chuckled in response, truing to walk to the kitchen with a five-year-old attached to one of her lower limbs. “Come on Olive. Let's go, Finn."

Leaving the milk carton in the living room for her daughterand handing her a colorful mug, along with the Lucky Charms and donuts Cole had brought, the doctor quickly put the Moka pot on the stove, brewing up the hot beverage to the distant sound of Monday morning cartoons. She then proceeded to go about her normal morning routine, sliding the back door open for her small companion to go outside if needed be.

Her friend watched her attentively, picking up the fried dough confectionery she had been craving for hours from the paper box that rested on the kitchen island and silently devouring it. He knew Y/N coping mechanisms all revolved around keeping herself as busy as she could. She eventually stopped running around the room, leaning against the counter and eating without saying a word.

“I need to paint." the coach's daughter blurted out after a couple of minutes, picking ip her mug and heading upstairs.

“Jesus, Junior.” Cole fretted, going after her.

“What?” she muttered, while washing her face and securing her hair up in a bun.

“You need to tell me what went on last night. Trevor won’t open his mouth for once in his life, you look like you haven’t slept at all and haven’t stopped to talk since I got here."

Y/N took off her pajama shorts and Rolling Stones t-shirt, putting on a sports bra, her old grey sweatshirt, and paint-covered sweatpants, before glancing at her blond friend and gulping down a bit more of her coffee.

“Come outside.” she hummed. “If you need a change of clothes, I have a couple more things I use when I’m painting in my closet. They’re the last ones on the right. They probably fit you.”

Ignoring the owner of the house’s offer, the hockey player treaded behind her, wondering what the hell had happened for Y/N to be this eager to paint just twenty minutes after getting out of bed. Stepping out into the side of the house, where the doctor kept her painting corner, he waited patiently as his friend sorted out the colors and picked up a white canvas, which she set up on her easel.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, dipping the tip of her brush on the glass of water beside her, taking a deep breath before finally saying the dreaded words out loud for the first time.

“Jack kissed me last night.”

Cole stood there, his mouth wide open and a huge smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“God, yes!”

The doctor stopped mixing the colors in the palette, raising an eyebrow. “God, yes? That’s your take on what happened?”

“Well, yeah! I think you two would make a great pair, you already knew that!” her friend replied, observing the way Y/N stroked the paintbrush over the canvas. “What went down next?”

“He said he liked me and he gave me all these reasons why… And I froze, like a complete idiot.” she admitted, not daring to meet Cole's inquisitive eyes.

“You froze?”

“Yeah. And when I could finally move I literally ran off.”

“Oh, Y/N…” the hockey player groaned, covering his face with his hands. “What the hell? Why didn’t you - ”

“You know I can’t, Cole.”

“Why not? Seriously, give me three good reasons why.” she demanded. “You don’t like him?”

“Of course I do. Jack's amazing. But I can’t – I can’t do it again... These past few weeks we’ve been reconnecting, and it’s been wonderful, but I won’t allow it to go any further than a friendship. He just… He just took it too far.”

“Oh, come on! Are you twelve? You like him, he likes you. Give it a go!”

“You know damn well why I’m like this! Did you ever stop to think about what I went through for years while you’re out here fantasizing about a possible relationship between Jack and I? Hu?” the doctor raised her voice, the movements of her brush becoming quicker and more erratic. “I couldn’t speak my mind, I couldn’t spend my money on whatever I wanted, I was estranged form my parents, my friends. My soul was beat down, pushed around and nearly crushed. I was only left with a tiny amount of strength and I had to will myself to use it to ask for a divorce and raise my daughter on my own. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I was a mess! A complete, insecure mess, dependent on another person’s twisted version of love. Do you know what it’s like to be belittled by the person you love? To feel so small you could literally vanish? Thank god Joey was too small to remember the person I was becoming back then… When Jack kissed me, I wanted more and I promised myself not to want more anymore. I am not going to lose sight of who I am. I can’t risk having to go through that much heartache again. I won’t.” she croaked out, her voice shaking with raw emotion.

“Jack isn’t Charlie. You can’t just write about him on your little journal. And pretend like that way you’ll forget what you went through. I know it’s your therapeutic take on these things, but you can’t do that again. You’re still hurting, I know. It takes time, it takes love. You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for, you’re so brave. You’ve been through hell and back because of the first man you fully gave your heart to but I won’t let make that the reason why you deny yourself to let love in from this point on. Y/N, you have to give yourself permission to be free. Set yourself free from all the moronic demons from your past, all the voices in your head that make you believe you shouldn’t give a wonderful man a change to make you hap – well, happier.” Cole pleaded, holding his friend by the shoulders, pulling her away from the half-done painting she had managed to work on while pouring her heart out.

Y/N took a moment to let her words sink in.

“I don’t know, Cole. What if- ”

“Life’s too damn short for your what if’s, Y/L/N. I know you feel like you owe Jack an explanation, even though you don’t. If you do decide to talk to him, and you will, because I know you, you should tell him exactly what you told me.”

“How?” she spoke quietly, feeling like she was a little girl again.

“I don’t know… Draw him a picture.”

In this world Cole has custody of olive pawfield and is spending some downtime in NY... bear with me

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #hockey #hockey boys #team usa #jack hughes #alex turcotte #cole caufield #trevor zegras #luke hughes #quinn hughes #fanfiction #blurb #jack hughes fanfiction

49 notes · View notes

rrazor · 3 years

Text

hq boys as non-sexual things that feel sensual

tags: mildly suggestive content (mostly pining)

bokuto: certain phrases are very sexually charged; “make me,” or “what are you gonna do about it” lunch time!! bokuto comes back from the cafeteria with his pork-cutlet sandwich to see you engaged in a card game with three other people. He sees that everyone’s bet something and you bet a strawberry danish you bought this morning and bokuto’s eyes go 🤩 he forces himself in LMFAO and makes sure to sit next to you 🥰❤️ in the end, it’s only you and him left (konoha and komi come over from their classes to see what all the fuss is about and they’re like …..how is bokuto doing so well 😶)

but you win and steal his sandwich on the desk 😈 he tries to defame you for cheating lol but all you do is look at him coyly like “and what are you gonna do about it, bokuto-kun? 😇” and suddenly his tongue feels heavy and his cheeks flush and he’s all 🥺👉👈 he asks you for the bread back because its his only lunch 😭💀 but he ends up winning sm more because you offer to share your bento with him and his heart goes 🥰💖💞

akaashi: sitting next to someone and your shoulders/thighs touch it’s the sports festival!! and it’s lunch break. he spots you sitting on a bench and he starts sweating at the idea of sitting next to you but he wants to be near you somewhat because then MAYBE you’ll talk to him??!? hopefully 🥺💔

he swallows his nerves and sits on the bench too but on the other side with a huge gap between you and your friend. he pulls out his phone to look “busy” LMFAO then, more of your friends come over and suddenly, you’re snug against him, your BARE THIGH touching his because you’re both in shorts and akaashi thinks he gonna pass out with the bashful apology you give him 😵 he thanks every deity he can think of that your friends came over and STAY because your leg is still touching his and he’s holding a conversation with you 😭🥺🥳💕💖❤️😍

konoha: having someone use your keyboard standing up while you’re sitting in front of it you’re in one of the school’s computer labs working on a research essay. akinori sits next to your station, having worked up the courage earlier to ask you if you could help him with his. he sneaks glances at you at the printers as you refill the trays with more paper 👀 he blushes even though you aren’t even doing anything to him 😭😔💔

before he can stop himself, he calls your name lmfao 🗣 but manages to save himself from utter embarrassment by asking you to look over one of his passages. coming over, you lean over him, hands on his keyboard as he leans back. his eyes are wide and cheeks ruddy as he tries so hard to keep cool because you’re so close 😍🥺💕 and god does he hope what he wrote was coherent because he thinks he’d d-word if you said it made no sense 😓😵

kuroo: when you’re sitting next to someone and they lean over and reach across you to grab something another day, another group project. kuroo gets added to a group with you and another guy because he was absent for volleyball. the two of you push your desks next to him and he’s fist pumping internally because you’re sitting next to HIM and not the other guy and he gets to act as the barrier AHAHAH 😇🥳😛

you’re working together when you ask one of your friends to pass over the notes she took from you. she’s sitting in front of kuroo, but diagonally to the right so she leans back and you lean forward to grab the papers. your arm accidentally brushes his chest and kuroo short circuits 😶 you’re SO CLOSE and your body is nearly laid over his entire desk and if he moves his hands up he could probably touch your chest HJAKHSDLKASD 👁👄👁 the guy next to him looks at him all 😐 as kuroo goes INSANE 🤯

kita: hugging from behind he’s home alone, studying in the living room for his university exams. you’re in the kitchen with his grandma helping her with tonight’s dinner. he smiles softly to himself hearing the two of you laugh 😊🥰💞

he’s halfway through a derivatives question when you hug him from behind, arms coming around him as you rest your head on his shoulder blades 🥺💘 when you softly tell him dinner is almost ready, his chest warms and a soft smile appears on his face ❤️💖

atsumu: the guys strapping you in on a roller coaster. are we gonna kiss? why are you giving me that eye contact? inarizaki’s vbc get together to go to the local amusement park!! they get in and the first thing the twins want to do is ride all of the roller coasters so after a ridiculously long line up, atsumu’s sitting next to osamu, waiting for an attendant to come buckle them in, when you suddenly come up in your cute uniform and hair tied up and atsumu’s like SHIT ITS YOU 😳 also damn y didn’t you tell him you worked here he could have gotten discounted tickets smh 🥴😒

anyways you come up to them to buckle them up with him first and he doesn’t really notice anything but you buckle the first strap really tight and he’s like “does it need to be so tight 😘” and you tell him, making eye contact, using your best customer service voice (vocal bottoming but at least you get paid) and with a pretty smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes, “yes, unless you want to die. and if you do, don’t do it on this ride because my shift ends in ten minutes and i don’t want to stay here to write a report about a dumbass who ko’d on a roller coaster 🥰” and he BLUSHES oop— 👁👅👁

osamu: having your back scratched you sit next to each other in class and it’s self study time and you’re helping him with the english homework that was assigned when his back starts feeling itchy. he rolls and moves his shoulders to try to alleviate it, but it just isn’t working so he brings a hand back to scratch at it, but he’s not flexible enough to reach it 😔 you ask him what’s wrong and he puts his arm down like he got burned because he doesn’t want to be seen doing something weird in front of you or making a weird face so he just says nothing but you raise a brow and go “are you itchy?” and he nods JAJCKKAD

you bring your arm up to where he was just scratching, “here?” a shake of his head, “no, a little to the right.” AND YOU SCRATCH RIGHT AT IT!!!!! he can feel his shoulders slump as he closes his eyes and groans a little WHOOP he’s SUPER EMBARRASSED but you just laugh it off and scratch him some more before going back to work and he looks at you like 🥺💖 why’d you stop?? even though you’re not even looking at him LOL 😞 touches his back that night in the shower like your hands were so small 😯😍😳 and maybe he should be itchy more often but it also quickly turns to she better not be touchy feely with anyone else 😒

suna: someone writing on your arm he’s forced to take this one evening class this semester because it’s not offered the next one and he needs to take it because it’s a prereq for almost every other course ugh but at least the cute girl who sits next to him lets him copy her notes LMFAO 😭💀 he left all his belongings in the gym’s lockers because he was going to go back anyways for practice so when the professor gives out a code for a free trial of the software they have to use for the homework assignment due in a week, he’s like shit; he left his phone in his bag 🤡💔

you offer to write it down on his arm, grabbing a pen from your pencil case. he nods like sure why not so you take his arm and push the sleeve of his hoodie up and start writing and he just stares at you 👀 your writing is cute and he kinda likes the feel of your hands on him 🤧 class ends and you part ways with a wave. It’s not until he’s reached the gym that he realized you could have just messaged the code to him on facebook 🤨 so he pushes his sleeve up and sees your phone number on his arm under the code 😘 aren’t you smooth!!! 😌

iwaizumi: when someone is putting the car in reverse and they put their hand on the back of your seat iwaizumi been interested in you for a while, and ever since he came to the revelation he finds it really hard to talk to you because he’s afraid of coming off too aggressive or you figuring it out 😔💔 good thing kindaichi reveals that you’re his older cousin and that you’ll be driving some of them to their next practice match because the volleyball team’s bus is out for a checkup!! 😍😘 oikawa, matsukawa and hanamaki all force him to sit shotgun as you drive (even kunimi and yahaba get in on it). iwaizumi grumbles about it and all but he’s secretly super happy he gets to be right next to you omg 👀😭 he takes a bunch of glances around the interior of your (parents’) car and sits a little straighter than he usually would.

he can feel the stares on the back of his head from the other third years egging him on to make a move and just when he works up the nerve to say something to you, you put the car in reverse to back out the parking spot and put your hand on the back of his seat 😳😤 iwaizumi thinks you look so cool AND HOT he clams up and just stares at you with his jaw slightly open 👁👄👁 💕pls save him 🤧

matsukawa: when a girl puts her hand up to yours and remarks on how yours is so much bigger you got randomly paired up with each other to do a presentation for your world history class and so you’re sitting next to each other on a saturday afternoon at the public library doing research together. matsukawa spent more time than he would like thinking about what to wear because he doesn’t want you to think that his fashion sense was as grotesque as the school’s khaki pants 😷🤢 (when you complimented him nonchalantly about how he looks a million times better in casual clothes compared to the school uniform and joking said that he should start a petition to get rid of the school’s ugly khaki plaid pants and skirts and use a photo of what he was wearing today as the main piece of evidence, he almost doubles over 💀)

you’re sitting next to each other and he’s still kinda reeling from the previous interaction ahjdalhd but he does his best to pull his weight. he’s taking notes in a notebook and you look over and comment out of the blue that his hands are really big as you look at yours 🤧👀 he blinks and looks at you like “yeah?” and you nod, putting your hand up and he does it too because he thinks he’s having a fever dream at this point, but not even in his wildest dream did he’’d ever think you’d push your palm against his and say “your hand is so big! 😳” he has to excuse himself to go to the washroom to scream 😘🥰❤️

hanamaki: when you’re sitting next to someone on public transport and the centrifugal force from the vehicle firmly mooshes the two of you together hanamaki pines for you silently and you can’t really tell he likes you because he’s pretty decent at keeping his emotions hidden. or maybe you’re just so busy with your senior year you don’t notice anything that isn’t the impending doom of university applications and keeping your grades up 😤😇 anyways the two of you get on and off at the same stop each day (which he secretly thanks god for 😭) and you’re sitting next to each other and hanamaki thinks he’s gonna combust because you’ve never been this close!! 🥺🥰

he can feel his hands getting sweaty already. hanamaki sneaks glances at you and tries to see what you’re doing on your phone LMFAO suddenly, the train lurches a bit and you slide from the inertia right into his side and then he can feel the warmth coming from your thighs, side and your shoulder are touching holy sh— 😭❤️😵👀💖 you look up to apologize as he takes a breath and you’re a little shy in your apology but he takes that chance to ask you about something mundane and he makes you laugh!!!! he thinks about the interaction for the next two weeks because he finally got to talk to you dhaskld ☺️🥺💕

kyoutani: when anyone raises their arms to stretch and their shirt gets lifted up slightly gym class—you’re doing timed runs today!! kyoutani is already finished with his so he’s just sitting off the side of the track, staring not-so-subtly at you but you don’t notice because it’s your turn next!! you’ve got the typical school mandated shorts and plain t-shirt on but kyou is all 👀 at your tastefully exposed skin. he thinks you look pretty with the sun hitting your face as you give a smile to your friend, squinting at the sun light 🥰

he’s just mindlessly staring at this point but then you raise your arms to stretch your triceps and the hem of your shirt rises up a little to expose the tiniest sliver of skin before it’s covered again 👁👁 his cheeks pink a little and you catch him looking LMFAO but you don’t think anything of it and just smile and wave as kyoutani burns bright red, heart battering against his ribs and looks away 😡🤡🥰💕 he saves it for future reference HURDURDUR 😇😛

ushijima: when a woman does that thing where she tucks her hair behind her ear while making direct eye contact ushijima is INTERESTED in you, likes you, is intrigued, would like to hold your hand and rub the back of your hand and feel the soft skin with his thumb—same thing 🥰 you’re talking to him about something for the cultural festival and he’s nodding along to what you’re saying because you’re so brilliant and responsible for working on the school festival committee wOW 🤩

time seems to move in slow motion as you look up him whilst tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he zones in on the shy smile on your face, your cute cheeks, glossy lips and pretty eyes 🥺🥰 “ushijima-san?” “yes?” “what do you think?” “that’s a great idea, I will ask my team members for their input as well.” you nod exuberantly even though he has no idea what you’re talking about but your cute smile makes him all mushy on the inside 💖💕

semi: making eye contact with another customer at the grocery store around the same age it’s 2:11pm on a tuesday and semi’s at the grocery store because it’s summer and his mom was all “go to the store and buy these shimeji mushrooms for me, eita, they’re on sale!!! but only until 3pm so get skedaddling!” 😩 so he’s here and he swears housewives are the most powerful people on the planet because he thought he was gonna d-word just tryna get his discount mushrooms. he spots you in the condiments aisle looking at sesame oil and he gives you the up, down and lingers a little too long on your exposed legs 💀

he thinks you look really cute in your t-shirt and jean shorts though 🥰 when you look up and make eye contact with him and give him a little smile and wave he BLUSHES 🥺 and is right about to take the chance to talk to you but a granny hip checks him trying to get to the soybean paste and he almost trips and lands on his face 😔💔 so much for looking cool in front of you 😢🥺

tendou: having someone else play with your hair satori sees you on cleaning duty carrying the recycling to the bins as he finishes his runs around the school, about to make a turn to the gyms. he makes a beeline for you, calling your name with a bright smile on his face and waving his arms in the air. 🥰💞🥺

he bounds up to you and offers to help even though the bin is really light, cheeks warming at your smile 😊 when he takes the bin out of your hands , you wave your hand to get him to bend down. he complies, eyes widening when he feels your hand in his hair. he straightens up to see you holding onto a couple pieces of cherry blossom petals 🌸 he laughs bashfully; it feels like time has slowed and you’re the only two people in the world 💖💕

sakusa: if you’re on a pc/laptop, somebody leaning over your shoulder to look at the screen with you. the close proximity of your faces can feel awkwardly sexual you’re in the same kinesiology class and sakusa first noticed how GOOD your presentations are wtf and he’s even more impressed when he hears that you winged the whole thing because “i conveniently forgot about this until one in the morning when I decided it was a good time to reorganize your entire dorm room” ALSO you offered him hand cream the one time you caught him staring and against all reason he said yes and ever since he’s been dying to ask you where you got it from because HOLY was it nice 😍

you get paired up for the final pair presentation and he’s only become more interested in you! you’re easy to talk to and don’t pry too much and he finds himself oversharing at times 💀 the professor gives the class part of the lecture time to work on the projects so you’re sitting next to each other working when he asks you a question about the academic article he just found and you lean over his shoulder to look at his screen 👁👁 for anyone else, the close proximity of your faces would have grossed him out but he can’t stop thinking about how good you smell and how cute your ears look 👀🥰 when you tell him he’s found a really good source with an excited smile on your face, he BLUSHES and promptly wants to pass away because he has no mask on to cover him 🤡😭😵

sachiro: when you have a melting popsicle, there often comes a time where you must choose between eating it too quickly, or sucking it off so it doesn’t drip on you sachiro hums happily, holding your hand as the two of you walk home after your date and stopping at the convenience store where he buys the two of you popsicle sticks 😋

you’re talking about something funny you saw hoshiumi do in the class the other day when your popsicle drips onto you. you kitten lick at your hand and take the whole thing in your mouth to get rid of the more liquidy parts of your ice cream and sachiro is all 👁👄👁 he swallows thickly, cheeks warming and heart beating a little faster; why’s he suddenly so thirsty? 🥵💦🙈

gao: getting a strong whiff of somebody’s perfume when they pass you gao really wants to talk to you, like really really wants to talk to you 😖😭🙏 but you’re talking to your friends about something and the cute way you laughs and joke with them has him all 🥺🥰🤩

he’s about to walk up and join the conversation because let’s face it, gao isn’t afraid of much 🤧💀 too bad the teacher calls you back into the classroom about something. when you pass him, he gets a good whiff of your shampoo and his stomach flutters 😍😊🥺💕💖 follows you with sparkly eyes and wishes he made the choice to talk to you sooner 💔

futakuchi: bending over to pick up something you dropped kenji is watching (glaring) as you talk to one of the baseball team’s starting players 🤐 he’s so ticked but he doesn’t admit it like where does this guy get off making you laugh and smile like that wtf 😒🙄 luckily for kenji, the guy gets pulled away by the class rep for something so kenji calls your name to get you to look at him instead 😤

you come over and just as he’s about to stand up from his desk, he knocks over his eraser. you crouch down to pick it up and he finds himself really liking it 👁👁 he doesn’t get it either 🤡 like you aren’t bending and snapping—just folding your knees to get his eraser for him, but the way you tucked your hair behind your ear before you bent down so prettily has him ☺️😉🥵

terushima: when you’re eating and chatting with someone and they lick their lips yuuji pulled you away from your friends when it was time for lunch, wanting to spend more time with you one on one. he was so busy with volleyball and school lately 😞 and when he managed to get you to tell him how lonely you felt without him, he made it his mission to spend more time with you!!! 🥰😘💕

you’re eating together, sharing food and talking about everything and anything when he notices you lick your lips; he zones in on your little pink tongue as it swipes across your bottom lip 👁👁 “yuuji, you okay?” a hand on your cheek and suddenly, he’s kissing you. he tastes like the leftovers your mom packed you for lunch 🥰😋

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callivich · 3 years

Text

I really love the idea of Lip having to take Ian and Mickey home after their anniversary party, so I wrote a little something.

This references a previous ficlet where Lip has an inappropriate dream about Mickey, so adults only please!

Thanks to @udontfuckangie for the advice RE: babies in car seats in ambulances! This was originally going to have Tami drive the ambulance with Freddie but yeah, not safe. So, I had to change things - therefore let’s assume the ambulance is fine parked outside the Alibi for a night. Also, the song is “Hot Girl” by Megan Thee Stallion.

Lip gets into the front seat of his and Tami’s car to find Mickey leaning through the gap, half in the front of the car and half in the back, fiddling with the radio. He flicks through the different stations until he finds something he wants to listen to. Lip wants to shove him backwards and tell him to sit the fuck down, but...fuck, it’s their wedding anniversary. So, he’ll allow it.

“All the hot girls make it pop, pop, pop, bad bitches with the bag say ah ya ya”

“Fucking love this song.” Mickey shouts, turning the volume up, the bass vibrating through the car. He scrambles back awkwardly, elbowing Lip in the side, so that he’s sitting in the back seat. Ian laughs like this is the most hilarious thing that he’s ever seen. They both nod their heads in time to the rhythm, singing the chorus loudly.

Lip shakes his head, if there’s one thing he hates about being sober it’s dealing with drunk people, but, he reminds himself it’s their wedding anniversary and, goddamn, do they deserve to be carefree and happy. And they are feeling very carefree and happy right now. And also very drunk. So much so, it was decided that they should leave the ambulance outside the Albi and Lip would drive them home, before coming back to the bar to get Tami and Fred. It’s not that late, and Freddie is sleeping soundly so he leaves Tami to enjoy the party for a bit longer.

The song ends and Lip quickly turns down the volume so his eardrums aren’t destroyed.

“Play it again!” Mickey shouts, again, as if Lip isn’t sitting right in front of him.

“I can’t, it’s the radio.”

“Fuck you.”

He can hear Ian laughing again, like Mickey is the funniest person in the world.

“Put your seatbelts on.” Lip orders, cutting through the laughter.

“Fuck you.” Mickey replies, as Ian puts on his own seatbelt.

“Very creative, you just gonna repeat yourself all night? I’m not driving until you wear a seatbelt.” Lip sighs, as Ian’s words from earlier come back to haunt him - he’s feeling very much like a dad to Ian and Mickey right now.

“M’fine, just drive, bitch.” Mickey grumbles, punching the back of Lip’s seat.

“No.” Lip taps the steering wheel. “Seatbelt.”

“Here, I’ll do it.” Ian reaches across Mickey and pulls the seatbelt, clicking it into place after a few tries. “Gotta keep you safe.” He gently pats Mickey’s chest.

Lip rolls his eyes at the sappy, soft tone of Ian’s voice, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get over hearing Ian speak like that to Mickey fucking Milkovich, as if he’s the most precious thing in the world. But, he supposes, to Ian he is. Still, it’s weird.

Checking one more time to see they are wearing seatbelts, he starts the car and wishes for no traffic and an easy ride to the West Side.

“You liked the surprise?” Mickey asks Ian.

“Loved it.”

“I got you good.”

“Yeah, you did. Really thought you’d forgotten.”

“But I didn’t!”

“Fucking love you so much.”

“Love you too.”

And then the inevitable making out starts, and the car is filled with the sounds of sloppy kissing, breathy ‘yeah’s, and some verging on pornographic sounding moaning.

“Wanna suck you off.” Mickey whispers, thankfully loud enough for Lip to hear so he can put a stop to that before it happens. He reaches one arm behind and pushes blindly at Mickey’s head.

“No you’re not, Mickey. I’m serious, sit back.” He pulls his arm back, when he hears Mickey huffing and swearing under his breath. He checks the rear view mirror, and Mickey is glaring at him but sitting upright.

“It’s our fucking wedding anniversary.” Mickey punches the back of Lip’s seat again.

“I know, but you aren’t going to suck my brother off in the backseat of my car. That just isn’t going to happen.” Lip takes a deep breath, goddamn, Mickey is a pain in the ass when he’s drunk, and even more so than usual tonight. Probably down to him being so pleased at pulling off the surprise. And Lip gets that - Ian looked completely astonished when he’d walked into the party. Ian is drunker than Lip’s seen him in a long while - he doesn’t usually drink that much because of his meds, but once in awhile, during a special occasion like this, he lets loose. And it’s kinda nice to see? Because Ian is a sweet, sappy and very silly drunk - there’s something endearing about his behaviour. Lip likes seeing him carefree like this. He doesn’t feel the same way about Mickey, but then, he’s never really found Mickey that endearing.

Lip hears a slurred “c’mere” and some giggling and then there is more kissing. Which is fine, but anything more than that and he’s pulling this car over immediately. He really is in dad mode. He doesn’t want to spoil all their fun, he just doesn’t want to be anywhere near their fun while they’re having it.

The drive seems to take forever, all to the soundtrack of two very in love husbands who are making out as if it’s the first time they’ve ever done it. Lip can’t lie to himself, he’s a little jealous. He’d love a night like this with Tami - just the two of them, happy and silly and able to make out like teenagers. But that’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. Especially if she’s pregnant again. That’s a thought for another day though. Right now he needs to concentrate on Ian and Mickey.

He was hoping to just drop them off, but Lip realises, as he pulls into the apartment car park, that isn’t going to work. Because the first thing Ian says as the car comes to a stop is “let’s go swimming!”

“Yeah! Let’s fuck in the pool!” Mickey agrees excitedly, pulling on the car door and failing to open it.

Lip realises he needs to make sure they get to their apartment before they get themselves in trouble. He has visions of them being found floating face down in the pool, so he helps them both out of the car and firmly steers them towards the entrance to the apartment block.

“No swimming. You two are way too fucked up for that.” He ushers them through the open door into a well lit corridor, lined with doors to apartments and other doors to what he guesses are the offices and maintenance for the building.

“You just.....you just don’t wanna see Mickey without a shirt. In case you get all excited...again.” Ian is grinning, his face flushed.

“What?” Mickey barks, suddenly very interested in the handle of a door which he yanks up and down. There’s a sign that reads ‘private’ and it’s obviously locked but Mickey continues to yank at it for some reason Lip can’t fathom.

“He had a sex dream about you.” Ian is attempting to whisper, but it’s loud, oh so loud in the empty hallway. “I’m not supposed to say because it’s a secret.”

“Ian. What the fuck?” Lip sighs, exasperated.

“Ugh, gross.” Mickey gives up on trying to open the locked door, and turns to Lip with a disgusted look on his face. “Don’t fucking dream about me like that.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. It was a fucking dream.” Lip realises his mistake as soon as the words come out of his mouth.

“It sure was!” Ian is still grinning. “A fucking dream. Where you fucked Mickey!” He bursts into laughter at his own joke, leaning against the wall.

Mickey still has that disgusted look on his face. “As if I would ever let you....” He shakes his head. “Fucking gross. I love Ian. Only wanna get fucked by Ian.”

Christ, Lip thinks, he needs to get them to their apartment, he doesn’t want to hear anymore of this kind of talk.

Mickey has taken Ian’s hands in his own, and Ian’s looking at Mickey like what he just said was very romantic. “Yeah, Lip, you can’t have him. He’s mine. My husband.”

“It was a dream. It doesn’t mean anything. I definitely do not want to have sex with Mickey. Ok? Let’s just get you two to your apartment. Now.” Lip pushes them firmly, and they stumble forward, still holding hands.

“Good. Besides...if I was...if I was single. Sure as fuck wouldn’t want to fuck you.....jabby.”

Lip frowns, “How do you know about that?”

“Oh, me and Tami....we talk. Gotta complain about you Gallaghers.”

“Jesus Christ. You two are friends now?”

“Yeah.” Mickey laughs. “Guess so.”

“Jabby!” Ian shouts gleefully, running slightly behind in the conversation, but with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what ‘jabby’ refers to.

“And you told him? Great.”

“Course I did, it was fucking funny.”

“It’s ok.” Ian pats Lip on the shoulder, trying to be reassuring. “I’m sure you’ll get better with practice.” Mickey lets out what Lip can only describe as a cackle.

“Jesus Christ, that was one time and it was a one off.” They are finally, finally, at the elevators and he practically punches the up button. He’s hasn’t been here before but he remembers Ian saying their apartment was on the second floor, so he trusts that’s right.

“In you go.” He herds them into the elevator and presses the ‘2’ button. And once again, they are on each other, furiously kissing. Lip thinks the elevator is moving much to slowly. He hits the ‘2’ button again. Mercifully, the elevator doors soon open on the second floor. But neither Mickey or Ian has noticed and Lip grabs Ian by the back of his coat and pulls him out, Mickey stumbling after him.

“Hey, hands off.” Mickey grabs for Ian, who Lip is dragging behind him as he purposefully strides down the corridor. He has to get them inside, he can’t take much more of this.

“He’s stealing me, Mickey!” Ian laughs, “Help! Help!” His voice echoes much too loudly around the corridor.

“I’ll...save you!” Mickey manages to spit out between laughs, almost doubling over.

“You can have him back when we get to your place? Ok.” Lip turns and looks over his shoulder. “Just come on Mickey, follow us.”

A door they are passing suddenly swings open, and a very annoyed older lady is standing there, cell phone in hand. “Everything alright? I heard someone say they needed help?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine.” Lip smiles, trying to look respectable. Which is hard because Ian and Mickey are giggling, red-faced and stumbling about. “They....they’ve just had a bit too much to drink and I’m helping them get home.”

“It’s our wedding anniversary!” Ian yells, throwing his arms in the air.

The woman looks distinctly unimpressed. “That’s very nice. But it’s late, you know. You can’t go around shouting for help if you don’t need it. Especially at this time of night!”

“Listen lady, if my husband-”

Lip interrupts before Mickey can finish whatever threat he’s about to make, “They know, and they’re very sorry. And I’m gonna make sure they are quiet right now.” He grabs Ian’s hand and then Mickey’s and uses all his strength to get them to start walking, as the woman shuts her door with one more disapproving glare. “Come on. Home. Now. Please.”

They get to the door of the apartment Lip thought they would never reach. “Keys?”

Ian frowns, as if this question is a difficult math problem on a test he didn’t study for. “Uh.” He slaps one hand to his chest, then the other and then begins to rummage around in his jacket pockets. “Uh. Hmmm....”

Mickey isn’t much help either. “Maybe....here?” He says, grabbing Ian’s crotch, which causes Ian to smile and giggle and get distracted.

“Come on, Ian. Where are the keys?”

“Oh. Yeah. Keys.” He eventually produces a set from his jacket which has far too many pockets for Lip’s liking or for his tolerance at this time in this never ending evening. “Keys!”

“Good. Great.” Lip snatches them, opens the door, and shoves them, gently - it is their anniversary after all, no matter how fucking annoying they are being - through the door, slamming it shut behind him as he follows them in. He lets out a deep breath, it felt like they would never get here.

The apartment is nice, new, modern. The kind of place he never would have imagined them living in. In fact, even though it’s not furnished properly yet, Lip can see it’s a really nice place. And he’s pleased, he wants them, especially Ian, to live somewhere good like this. They deserve it.

They’re standing in the middle of the empty living room, holding one another, swaying slightly. Ian’s hands move down Mickey’s back to rest on his ass. Better get out of here, Lip thinks to himself.

“You guys need to drink some water.” He starts to rummage around the pristine kitchen until he finds two glasses that he recognises from home...or rather, what’s no longer home, not really - the Gallagher house. There’s only two glasses, clearly they haven’t been shopping yet, he fills them both with water.

“Alright, lovebirds, drink up!” Lip holds the glasses out, but neither of them move. They’re just staring at one another, silently, with small smiles on their faces. “Not gonna leave till you have some water.”

They both put one arm out at the same time, because of course they do. Lip hands them their water and waits until they’ve both drunk their whole glasses.

Satisfied that he’s done everything he can, he makes a move to leave. “I’m going. Enjoy the rest of your anniversary.”

Ian is caressing Mickey’s face with one hand, the other barely holding the glass which is dangling at his side. “Thanks, Lip. Love you bro.”

“Love you too, asshole.” He turns to leave, but fuck it....Mickey is his brother-in-law, and even though he’s a real pain in the ass, he makes Ian happy and that’s the most important thing, and also they’re probably too drunk to remember what he’s going to say.... “And you too, Mick.”

“Gross. Stop fucking fantasising about me, Philip.” Mickey grumbles, never taking his eyes of Ian.

Lip laughs, and let’s himself out, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #gallavich fic #ficlet #as always feel free to continue this or add to it!!

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petersnya · 3 years

Text

SOMETIMES PT.2

---NOT MY PIC--- PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, Angst?? Idk lol

Word count:2145

COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THE STORY AND WANT ME TO CONTINUE! SHOULD I START WRITING FROM PETER OR Y/N’S POV?

[A/N]Heyyy! Soooo this is part of this series (I’ll link part one). Hope you guys enjoy it! PLEASE COMMENT AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK AND IF YOU WANT YOU CAN SEND ME MESSAGES AND ASK QUESTIONS I'LL ANSWER LOL. Anyway, I had fun writing this chapter so I hope you like it! -J.T.S xxx

PART ONE

During physics class, Peter was working on an upcoming project with Ned, but he spent most of his time sleeping. He was basically sleep deprived from patrolling the town and stopping crimes.

“Late night huh Pete?” Ned asked, nudging Peter's arm that was supporting his head in the palms of his hands as his eyes got heavy, starting to close.

“Yeah, had to stop some petty theft last night,” he began, a yawn interrupting him, “took longer than I thought.”

The bell rang, dismissing the students to their after-school activities, if you had none you would just go home. Peter and Ned gathered their things and headed to the school’s front doors- MJ catching up with them how she usually did.

“Man, you look terrible,” MJ said with a slight chuckle.

“Wow, thanks. You're such a great friend.” Peter retorted sarcastically. Ned wasn’t riding the bus home today, he had to go with his mom for something he refused to share with anyone but Peter; so Peter just decided to ask MJ to walk home with her.

“Sorry Parker, Y/N is picking me up today. You’re welcome to ride with us if you want though.”

Peter didn’t respond for a while, debating if it was worth the anxiety attack of being around her. Y/N was the only thing that was on his mind now. His attraction grew even more when she wore those glasses. He zoned out for a while till MJ snapped her fingers in front of his face. Blinking rapidly, his vision focused on MJ who was now reaching out to grab the handle of a car door. Y/N’s car. His breath hitched in his throat once he saw Y/N wearing those same glasses from last Friday, her hair in the messiest high-ponytail he had ever seen- but it was cute to him.

“Ya coming lover-boy?” Y/N said, looking Peter right in his wide brown eyes. He blushed at the nickname before answering.

“Yeah… I’m coming.”

The three teens got into the car and started on their way. “Hey losers, wanna go shopping?”

“Y/N you only wanna go to the mall to eat,” MJ said to Y/N who was now laughing loudly, throwing her head back in agreement with her. Suddenly, in the middle of her laugh, she let out a loud snort. The car went silent as Y/N covered her mouth with her hand. MJ and Y/N burst into laughter, Peter soon joining. They all joked and sang to the songs that played on the radio all the way to the mall.

///

“Dude!”

“Jeez Y/N, you scared me! What is it?” MJ said to her, clutching her chest from being startled. They all had gone to the food court and were now just walking around the mall and into random stores.

“There's a Build-A-Bear Workshop here!” she exclaimed excitedly, pointing at it like a child. Peter couldn't help but smile at how adorable she looked freaking out over a child’s store.

“Let's go in,” Peter said to the two of them. Y/N looked at him wide-eyed with a goofy smile on her face. Her eyes looked like they twinkled with excitement. She shoved her drink into MJ’s hand, fixed her glasses, then grabbed Peter’s hand while running into the store.

“Oooohh, I should get an H.P-themed bear!” Before Peter could even answer, Y/N dragged him to one of the workers, asking if she could get a custom bear. They went over to the station and started to build.

As Y/N was finishing up the bear, she turned to Peter, “Ok, I have a very serious question. What accessories should I get?” they were standing in the Harry Potter section, looking over all of the things they had to decorate the bear. Peter shrugged, but then, he had a great idea, “I-I think you should get the uh, the glasses. The ones like your dads…” he said in an unsure tone. Y/N looked at him with a soft smile on her face. She couldn’t help herself, she had no idea what came over her as she pulled Peter into a tight embrace. Peter hesitated before putting his arms around her waist- her arms draped over his neck.

At that moment, Y/N inhaled Peters sent heavily. She felt so… safe in his arms. Like nothing bad could touch her. She never wanted to break away- MJ’s voice brought them back to reality.

“You guys done, I need to get new converse,” she said with a smirk plastered across her face. Y/N quickly pulled away from Peter, a million thoughts running through her mind, but only one seemed to overpower the rest.

I would be in his arms forever if I could.

“Ma’am, would you like to add a voice to your bear?” the lady said to Y/N, causing her thoughts to disappear.

“Actually,” Y/N paused looking at Peter and MJ, “yes, I would.” She grabbed the recorder from the worker’s hand and sent her a small smile. She looked at the curly-headed girl and the brown-eyed boy was on either side of her. She explained her plan, “Ok, I want all three of us to say ‘Mischief Managed’, ok?”

“What does that mean?” Peter questioned, looking at the two girls. They both sent him a deadly stare. “Nevermind,” he mumbled.

“Ok, on three, one… two… three…”

“Mischief Managed!” the trio yelled, causing some customers in the store to turn their heads and stare at them. They all mumbled small sorry’s as they laughed.

///

“Ok, Peter what's one thing you hate?” MJ asked, turning to face him. They were all sitting in the car at a drive-in movie. Peter was now in the front seat while MJ was in the back. They all decided to just talk because the movie was pretty boring to them.

“Uhh, I can't stand sleeping with socks on.”

“I don't think anyone can Parker,” Y/N said, laughing slightly.

“Well what about you then?” he asked her, turning his full attention as he anticipated her answer.

“Easy, liars. Ugh, I hate liars! What’s the point? It’s not like I’m gonna judge you,” Y/N answered confidently. “See, that’s what I like about you, Parker. You are very honest,” she said with a genuine smile. Peter just loved her smile, the way it lit up her whole face.

“Welp imma go get some pizza from the stand back there,” MJ said as she got out of the car. Y/N and Peter sat there in silence for a moment- comfortable silence.

Y/N was the first to break the silence, as usual, “Hey, Pete. I just wanna thank you for the whole glasses thing last Friday. It really helped me realize that I should’ve worn the glasses the moment he gave them to me. It’s like I have a part of him with me now... And I love Harry Potter, obviously. Ya know, I took a quiz and found out what house I’m in! Can you believe that I’m in-“

“You’re welcome, Y/N” Peter interrupted her rambling, sending her a small smile. They stared into each other's eyes for a while, admiring one another. Peter got this warm feeling inside and had that same surge of energy he had when he first met her. Before even processing what he was about to do, he grabbed her hand without breaking eye contact. He fiddled with the ring she had on her thumb.

Y/N breath became shallow as her heart pounded at her chest.

“I’m in Slytherin,” she said randomly, looking down at how Peter’s hands played with hers. He let out a breathy chuckle. Their eyes met once again.

Y/N gathered all of her courage and quickly reached out her hand to grab Peter’s cheek, pulling him into her. Their lips were centimeters apart. She ran her thumb along Peter’s bottom lip, slightly parting it as she leaned in closer, catching his lips with hers. Their lips interlocked and it felt like heaven to the both of them.

They pulled apart from the soft kiss and slowly opened their eyes, starting again into each other's eyes searching for the words that weren’t said. Peter couldn’t contain himself anymore. His large hand grabbed the back of Y/N’s neck, pushing his lips into hers in a lust-filled kiss. Just like the one he had imagined.

This was the moment he had dreamt of and it was finally happening.

He ran his tongue over her bottom lip, begging for an entrance. She gave it to him without hesitation. His tongue slowly slipped into her mouth while her tongue ran into his.

Peter snaked his hands to her waist, lifting her from her seated position in the driver's seat. She complied and started to adjust to where she was sitting in his lap. His hands ran from her waist to her butt and gave it a tight squeeze.

Y/N let out a soft moan into Peter’s mouth. She slowly started to trail kisses down his neck as he massaged her thighs and ass.

Y/N hands got tangled in Peter’s brown curls. She began to suck on Peter’s neck, wanting to leave a mark. Peter let out a low groan at the sensation of her soft lips and wet tongue on his skin.

He lifted her head and connected their lips together once again. His veiny hand slipped between their body making its way down to her core.

Peter never did stuff like this, and neither did Y/N. all of this was new to them but their connection was so strong that they were willing to push the limits.

As Peter’s hand reached Y/N core, he placed two fingers right on top of where her clothed clit was. He began to draw circles against it. Y/N started to rock her hips over his fingers, yearning for more friction. She started to let out moans uncontrollably, whimpering at the euphoric feeling of his fingers pressed against her dripping core.

“Peter,” Y/N breathed out trying to catch her breath. Peter hummed in response while moving his lips down to kiss her neck.

Suddenly, Peter snapped out of the trance that he seemed to be in. This moment was the best moment of his life, but his damned mind couldn’t help re-play Y/N’s words on a lope: I hate liars. Why? Before they went to the movies and were still at the mall, Y/N had asked Peter about his Stark’s internship. And, of course, he couldn’t tell her the truth. So he just lied. Y/N looked so intrigued in the conversation but Peter couldn’t bear lying to her over and over again. He felt so guilty...

“Y/N,” Peter let out. “Y/N, we can’t do this.”

Y/N head snapped up, her glasses left crooked on her face. She looked stunned by his words. Her shoulders slumped as she started asking questions.

“What? Why? Am I not a good kisser? I’ve only kissed one person before but I don’t even really wanna count that. Does my breath smell bad? Ugh, I knew this was a bad idea- wait no! I didn’t mean it like that, I just knew you didn’t like me how I liked you… I’m so stupid.”

After Y/N was finished rambling, she put her face in her hands, trying to avoid eye contact with the chocolate-eyed boy.

Peter was speechless. He didn’t know what to say, because what he wanted to say was: no Y/N that’s not it at all. You are the most amazing girl I’ve ever met, I- I lied to you…

No. he couldn’t say that it would absolutely crush her and he couldn’t bear to hurt her. Peter put his hands on her waist, making Y/N jerk her body in shock. She let a small smile spread across her face, thinking Peter was going to hug her or make a cute gesture or even continue what they had started. He lifted Y/N and slid her back to the driver’s side.

Her smile dropped from her face and she pushed herself the rest of the way to the driver’s side. Peter sat there awkwardly, praying she wouldn’t say anything. It killed him to see the gloomy look on her face as she fixed her glasses.

“I’m back with pizza!” MJ announced as she made her way into the backseat. “Woah, hey, cuz what’s wrong?”

“We’re going home,” Y/N replied with a cold tone of voice. This shocked Peter and MJ. Y/N was usually so smiley, even after her dad passed. She always tried to find the light in every situation. But something was different with this. One thing Peter knew for sure,

I fucked up…

[A/N] HEY GUYSSSS SO I HOPE YOU LIKED PART TWO. SORRY, IT WAS UP A BIT LATE, IVE BEEN HAVING INTERNET PROBLEMS. ANYWAY, SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES (IM GONNA GO BACK AND FIX THOSE)

-J.T.S XXX

@love-granger

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bluefirewrites · 3 years

Text

Juke fic idea based off this Tumblr Post

I saw this years ago and I loved the premise for this so much. I think I’ve read one fic based off this story and it was so funny:

my dad is a cop and I just called him and he was like “hey I have a 17 year old boy in the back of my cop car right now that i’m running him to the station” and i asked if he was cute and my dad said “Hey, my daughter wants to know if you’re cute” and the guy said “i want to say yes, sir” and my dad started laughing so hard

source: @ahcalamity

AU where Ray is a crime scene photographer, and he hitches a ride to the station with a police officer colleague who just busted 17 year old Luke for like... I don’t know, maybe busking where he shouldn’t?

Julie calls Ray, wondering when he’ll be home for dinner and he explains that they need to do a detour at the station to drop off the “17 year old boy in the backseat”.

“Ugh fine. As long as he’s cute,” Julie joked on the other end of the line, “Is he?”

“I don’t know. I’ll check,” Ray turns to Luke, “My daughter wants to know if you’re cute.”

“Dad!”

“You asked,”

Luke stares at Ray, nervously. Was he... was he serious? The guy appears to be waiting for an answer, and Luke couldn’t exactly not cooperate with the police, even if this man’s technically not an officer.

“I, uh, I want to say yes, sir...” he ends up saying, which seems to satisfy the nice looking crime scene photographer.

“Mija, he says he’s cute. I might have to agree with him. Do you want me to ask if he’s single too?”

And this causes Luke to laugh despite being handcuffed in the back seat of a cop car. The officer in charge even looks amused by the whole affair.

Julie is mortified, “I’m like literally dying right now, dad! Oh my god, please stop,”

Ray looks to his officer friend, “Hope you didn’t pick him up for having weed on him or anything like that.”

“No. Street performing without a permit,”

Luke gets up, all indignant, but ends up falling over due to this hands tied, “Come on! That’s not even a real law! You arrest me for playing my guitar on the pier??”

Ray nods, “Julie, he’s a musician! Isn’t that nice?”

“Are you seriously trying to set me up with a criminal?”

“He seems like a nice young man,” He turns around, “Are you still in school, son?”

“Yeah. Los Feliz,”

“Same high school as my daughter, huh. What’s your name?”

“Luke...Luke Patterson,”

“Hey Julie, do you happen to know a Luke Patterson that goes to your school?”

Julie nearly drops her phone.

Luke Patterson.

As in the Luke Patterson in her music class? The Luke Patterson who’s in that band with his friends- Sunset Swerve or something? Always wearing beanies and cutoffs- insanely attractive and who she’s currently crushing on?

“Um... I, uh, yeah. Yes, um-”

“Wait,” Luke leans forward as he could against the partition, “Julie? As in Julie Molina? From Ms. Harrisons’ class?”

The Julie Molina that plays piano? The Julie Molina who always doodles on her shoes. With the head full of curly brown hair and glasses- insanely pretty and who he may or may not have been crushing on for the whole semester?

And he’s in a police car with her dad.

“Yeah...”

He couldn’t believe his luck, Luke thinks sarcastically. But then a wide grin blooms on his face when an idea forms.

He presses his face against the partition, “Julie!”

Ray holds his phone closer to Luke, “Yes...?” Julie utters shyly...

“Look. I don’t know how long I’m gonna be in the slammer for-”

The officer sighs, “You’re not getting detained, this is a warning-”

“Wait for me, please!” he cries dramatically, “It could be months or years-”

“-An hour at most at the station, son-”

“But I’ll make it through if I know you’re out there waiting for me on the other side!” He directs his gaze at Ray, seeking the ‘ok’. Ray shrugs, telling him to go for it.

His bravado gone, Luke says more seriously:

“When I get out... maybe you wanna catch a movie or something?”

It was silent on Julie’s end.

Her eyes widen.

Did he just- Did he just ask her out?

Thank goodness she was in the safety of her home so no one in that police car could even witness how red her face got.

This is such... a strange circumstance- her dad pretty much helped her crush ask her out. But who knows when she would ever get the nerve to ask out Luke properly.

“Um... yeah. I would like that,”

Luke nearly bumps his head against the roof of the police car, “Really?”

“Really. Whenever you become a free man, I guess,” Julie beams, trying to catch her giggles with her sweater sleeve.

He sighs in relief, that his theatrics were read as endearing, “Well, maybe not this weekend because my parents would ground me when I get back home. Next Friday?”

“It’s a date,”

“Cool,” Luke settles in his seat, much happier than when he was brought in.

“See you then. And dad?” Ray brings his phone towards himself.

“Yes?”

“I love you. And thank you. But please... please never do this again,”

“But look how well it turned out! I wouldn’t mind if I screen your dates from here on out-”

“Bye, dad!”

Julie hangs up and they finally drive on down to the station. They all get out of the car, and right before the officer takes Luke inside, Ray stops them.

“You seem like a nice kid, Luke,”

“Thanks, sir,”

“Since that’s the case...” he leans in to whisper, “You know better than to hurt my daughter, right?”

Luke gulped, “I’m aware.”

“Good,” He pats him on the shoulder, “I better not find you in the back of a police car again,”

“Right,”

“One more thing,” Ray shares a smile with the officer at the sight of Luke visibly shaking in his presence, “Don’t forget to buy her Skittles at the theater. They’re her favorite.”

“Will do....Are you going to stop scaring me now?”

Ray shakes his head, walking down the steps and over to his car, “Not a chance!”

When he gets home, Julie berates him for embarrassing her in front of her crush like that, but when she would return from her date with Luke the following week, all smiles, Ray knew he had done the right thing.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #julie x luke #luke x julie #palina #did i really just write a one shot practically now?#oh my god #this wasn't supposed to be this long #but i couldn't stop writing haha #here ya go #crime scene photographer!ray #kinda goes along with criminal ties!ray headcanon we got goin on #ray molina #julie molina #luke patterson

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milkchu · 4 years

Text

— 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a rich and famous ceo hires kuroo and bokuto to be the bodyguards of his daughter, (y/n) (l/n). unfortunately, (y/n) is a spoiled little rich girl that makes it hell for them.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader x bokuto koutarou

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: don’t read if you’re under 18; nsfw/smut, kinda dark!kuroo & dark!bokuto, dubcon, dirty talk, threesome, car sex, oral (both m & f), squirting, some hair-pulling, rough & unprotected sex, degradation, brat-taming, inappropriate use of a necktie, cheating (y/n is in a relationship). unedited!

𝐚/𝐧: this is literally just my horny 3am thoughts. also, just imagine them in black suits in this one.

"i’ll be there soon, tooru-kun!” your sickeningly sweet voice echoed from the back of the limo. “yeah, yeah, i love you too,” you rolled your eyes as you adjusted your feet to rest on the couch before hanging up on your boyfriend.

after throwing your phone into your prada bag, you sighed as you stared outside, seeing all the people walking to work or heading towards the train station. can’t relate, you thought as you stared at your freshly manicured nails.

“can’t you drive any faster, kuroo? i’m gonna be late for my date!” you huffed as you glared at him through the rear view mirror.

“i’m already driving at the speed limit, miss,” kuroo replied before his partner, bokuto added, “if we go any faster, we’ll get pulled over by the police.”

“ugh, who cares? my dad can pay them off anyway,” you said, “if you weren’t such a slow ass driver, we would’ve arrived by now.”

“if you didn’t take so fucking long to get ready, you would have been at your stupid date with your little bitch boyfriend by now,” kuroo angrily mumbled.

“did you say something, kuroo?” you raised your eyebrow at him, before bokuto nervously let out a laugh, “don’t worry, miss! he’s just a little mad at the old lady crossing the street right now!” turning back to his partner, bokuto mumbled to him, “calm down, dude.”

“hmph, you know i can just easily call my dad to fire you both, right?” you relaxed into your seat, while the two men up front start to tense up.

“there are many others who can replace you, you know. hmmm, maybe i’ll ask my dad to hire those cute twins, they’re probably more competent than you two,” you smirk, as you went on your phone, looking for your dad’s number.

meanwhile, bokuto looked at his partner with a now completely different and serious look before kuroo looked back at him and nodded slowly.

putting your phone up to your ear, you greeted your dad, “hey, daddy! are you in a meeting right now?” not even noticing that kuroo had taken a different route and that bokuto had slid from the front seat to the back.

“oh, that’s good! listen, you know kuroo and bokuto? yeah, i think you should- mmph!” bokuto’s hand suddenly covered your mouth, while his other hand took your phone and immediately hung up on your dad.

you looked at bokuto with shocked eyes, before his face went closer to yours, “don’t you fucking make a sound, little girl,” he chuckled, “kuroo and i are just going to teach you a little lesson.”

you whimpered through his hand, before letting out a squeal as you felt his other, cold hand run up your thigh under your skirt and finally, to your panties.

“oooh, lace panties? did you wear this for your boyfriend, (y/n)-chan?” bokuto’s darkened eyes look up at you, “were you hoping that he was going take you home and fuck your slutty cunt after your date?”

his fingers then start to press against your entrance through the fabric, squirming against him as you start to relax and let your juices slowly gush out from inside of you.

“oh look, kuroo, she’s already so fucking wet,” bokuto groaned, raising his sticky fingers to show his partner through the rear view mirror.

kuroo felt himself harden as he looked at the mirror, “just wait ‘til i get back there, kitten,” he growled as he tried to focus on driving, “i’m going to ruin you.”

“that’s right, kuroo’s the roughest one out of both of us,” bokuto let out a chuckle, as he continued to rub your wet panties, “he shows no mercy.”

noticing the scared look in your eyes, he smirked, “oh don’t worry, baby girl, i’m not as rough as him.”

your heart starts to pound faster as bokuto slowly kneeled down in front of you, his hand still covering your mouth. he looks up at you with lust-filled eyes before saying, “i want to taste you so badly, baby girl. would you like that?”

you let out a moan before nodding, tears almost filling your eyes from the anticipation.

“i also want to hear your sweet moans,” bokuto cooed, “will you promise to be a good girl when i remove my hand?”

you let out a “mhm,” through his hand before he finally removed it, “good girl,” he said, before pulling your lips towards his for a surprising soft kiss. both your lips molded against each other perfectly, before he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“your lips taste like strawberries,” he smiled at your blushing and panting face, before he slowly kneeled back down, “but i wonder what you taste like down here?”

you felt his hands slowly pull your panties down your legs, feeling the cold leather couch on your bare skin, before lifting your skirt up to reveal your wet, glistening pussy to him.

extremely embarrassed, you looked away from him, “s-stop staring so much...” your cheeks warmed, before bokuto let out a small laugh, “aw, don’t be so embarrassed, baby. we already know that you’re a little slut.”

“now, just let me taste this slutty cunt of yours,” he groaned before pressing his lips to your entrance, your sweet juices immediately filling his mouth, “you taste so fucking good, baby,” he mumbled against you, sending light vibrations to your pussy.

“keep her fucking wet for me, bo,” kuroo said from the front, palming himself through his black slacks, already imagining how tight you would be around him.

“don’t worry,” bokuto replied, his mouth still on your pussy, “i will,” before bringing his lips to your clit, softly sucking on it. “hah!” you let out a loud moan, your hand pushing the back of his head deeper onto you.

while bokuto’s face was buried in between your legs, his hands expertly unbuttoned your top and unclipped your bra from the front, immediately letting his hands knead your tits while his thumbs brush against your hardened nipples.

with the combined pleasure, you already felt your insides coiling up as bokuto continued to lap at your sensitive pearl, feeling the bolts of pleasure course through your body.

meanwhile, kuroo had already unzipped his pants, letting his hard dick out, stroking it, while his other hand is on the wheel.

“i can feel you getting close, baby girl,” bokuto looked up at you with dark eyes, his mouth still suckling on your clit, “are you going to cum?”

tears filled your eyes again as you heavily panted and looked down at him, nodding before throwing your head back into the headrest.

bokuto chuckled against your clit before mumbling, “then fucking cum, baby girl. cum in my mouth. fill my mouth with your sweet juices.”

his lips moved quicker against your clit as his fingers continued to twist and pull at your nipples before your hands started to pull on his hair, finally feeling yourself release into his mouth, “hah! fuck fuck fuck-” you cried out, feeling your juices gush out from your throbbing pussy.

“oh fuck, that’s it,” bokuto groaned against your cunt, letting your juices stain his mouth, running down his neck and to his shirt and tie. he let out a laugh, looking at his now stained suit, “holy shit- look, kuroo, she squirted all over me!” before softly brushing his finger against your throbbing clit, “such a good girl.”

“oh yeah? good fucking timing because i finally found a place where i can pull over,” kuroo let out a dark chuckle, not bothering to zip his pants back up as he got out of the driver’s seat.

“ohoho, you’re in for a ride, baby girl,” bokuto smirked, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead before sitting on the other seat, waiting for his partner to get in the back.

you were still recovering from the orgasm bokuto gave you, it was definitely something you had never experienced before. not even when your old bodyguard used to sneak into your room every night.

your thoughts were immediately interrupted when the door to the back suddenly opened, revealing kuroo with his dick literally out in the open. “get on all fours, brat,” he growled.

letting out a surprised whimper, you obeyed, immediately getting on all fours, kuroo stroking himself as he stared at your still throbbing, wet cunt.

closing the door as he went inside, kuroo kneeled behind you, slapping your cunt with his hard dick, “fuck,” he groaned before bokuto said, “such a pretty pussy, right, kuroo?”

“fuck yeah,” kuroo moaned, roughly pulling at his necktie to remove it then grabbing both your wrists on your back to tie them up with it, “this will teach you to not be a spoiled fucking brat.”

he then started to line his cock up to your pussy, “are you ready for my cock, kitten?” he growled, rubbing the head against your folds, letting your juices smother his cock before finally pushing it in.

“fuck, bo. she’s so fucking tight,” kuroo threw his head back, feeling your insides clench against his cock. he’s so big, i can already feel myself getting close, you moaned into the leather seat.

meanwhile, bokuto also had his cock out, stroking it as he watched his friend pound into your pussy from behind. “get over here, bo. fuck her face,” kuroo groaned, before bokuto chuckled, “with pleasure.”

bokuto then walked up to you, before sitting down in front of your face. he gently pulled your face up towards his thick cock, pre-cum already dripping down his head, “go ahead, baby girl, open,” he cooed.

you obeyed, opening your mouth before bokuto entered, thrusting in and out of your teary-eyed face. “fuck, her mouth feels so good.”

“yeah? you like bo’s thick cock deep in your throat while i pound this slutty cunt of yours?” kuroo growled, watching his cock roughly go in and out of you, his balls slapping against your sensitive clit.

as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you did. you think back to those times where you would pull up the privacy screen in the limo so they wouldn’t see you touching yourself. or when you would imagine that it was either of them when you were underneath tooru in bed.

“oh yeah, i can feel you tightening around me,” kuroo growled, as he continued to pound into you, “are you gonna cum again?” before his hand trailed down to your clit, sending more bolts of electricity through your body.

you whimpered against bokuto’s cock, feeling the head of his cock almost hit the back of your throat. “fuck, i’m close too,” bokuto groaned, pulling at your hair to thrust harder and deeper into your mouth.

“then let’s all cum together,” kuroo moaned, quickening his pace as he felt your insides pulsate against his cock. “fuck, squirt for me like you did for bo, come on, kitten,” his finger continued to roughly rub against your clit.

“shit, i can feel her getting close,” kuroo gritted his teeth. you moan loudly against bokuto, sending vibrations down his cock, as he’s about to cum too.

“we’re gonna fill you up so much,” bokuto groaned, watching as his cock disappeared into your mouth. “that’s right,” kuroo gritted his teeth, “you’ll be our little cumslut.”

with that, you finally felt your insides explode. kuroo growled, “fuck, she’s cumming, i can feel her pussy- fuuuuck,” he threw his head back, feeling your juices gush onto his cock and drip down your thighs before releasing his load into you.

“shit, me too-” bokuto pulled on your hair harder, filling your mouth with his hot cum. moaning against his cock, you looked up at him with your mascara running down your cheeks, “fuck, what a good cumslut you are, swallowing all my cum.”

finally pulling his cock out of your mouth, bokuto grabbed a handkerchief from his front pocket to wipe the mascara away from your cheeks, finally letting you breathe normally.

kuroo then slowly pulled out of you, watching as his cum mixed with yours dripped out of your pussy, down your thighs, and onto the leather seat, “fuck, look at that. such a pretty pussy filled with my cum.”

“mmm, yeah, make sure you keep all that cum inside you while you’re on your date with oikawa-kun, okay?” kuroo darkly chuckled, before bokuto added, “that’s right, you’re our spoiled little cumslut now.”

staring up at both of them while still high on the pleasure and ecstasy they gave you, the sound of your phone ringing interrupted the air.

bokuto then pulled out your phone, “oooh, it’s your daddy! he’s probably worried because you hung up on him.”

“yeah, you were saying something about bo and i?” kuroo smirked, stroking your face before bokuto answered the phone and put it up next to your ear.

‘(y/n)! are you okay? you hung up on me, you were saying something about your bodyguards?’

“yeah, kuroo and bokuto... i think you should- you should give them a raise. they’re the best bodyguards i could ever ask for.”

#milkchu fics #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #hq smut #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou smut #bokuto koutarou smut

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

for the meet ugly prompts, 20 seems like it'd make a good ot4 nsfw..

Here you go!

20: you’re the town’s super villain and you take me hostage because you saw the super hero talking to me but I’m new in town and was asking them for directions

“I do not see what is so difficult about this.” Indrid leans against the console in his hideout, “simply agree that you will not, under any circumstances, go after Ursa Major, and I will let you go.”

“For the last time” the villain (oh, excuse him, the ‘writer who is new in town’) strapped to his chair stares him down with convincing confusion in his blue eyes, “I just needed directions, and he was the nearest person. I’m not a super villain, I swear. I don’t even know where you’re getting this idea.”

Indrid taps his temple, though the answer is really his SmartGlasses, “When I scanned you, the information was minimal, the kind of life that suggests you appear as mundane as possible to avoid detection. More importantly” he leans into “Josephs” space, ice in his grin and menace on his tongue, “I saw instances of you and him in combat, both costumed.”

His captive raises an eyebrow, but Indrid gives him nothing; he’s not about to just tell some upstart the crux of his powers.

Joseph sighs, “Alright, I think I understand. I’m really not a super villain.” He flashes a movie star grin, “but I am a superhero.”

The chair tips backwards, smashing when it hits the ground. Indrid curses, lunges at him and narrowly avoids an elbow to the chest.

“That changes th--ohno” he braces as his feet leave the ground without his permission and he flies backwards, slamming into a wall. He’s up before his enemy can ready another attack, hurls a destabilizer at him as he makes for the door. It catches his neck and he shudders, stumbling as he turns the nod.

“I’ll see myself out, Emperor Moth. Ugh” he holds his head, rips the device from his neck, “nasty stuff.”

“Thank you.” Indrid grins, “and don’t bother putting that little monitor strip on my door. I’ll be vacating this hide-out immediately.”

Joseph frowns, still having trouble with balance as he steps outside.

“I did tell you not to underestimate me.” Indrid waves, slams the door, and initiates the scrubbing sequence.

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

“It is just humiliating. I was so concerned with keeping him away from Duck, I didn’t bother to check why he might be interested in him.” Indrid grumbles, then hisses when Barclay touches the back of his head.

“It doesn’t sound like he was. I mean, maybe they’ll team up eventually, but if he’s so new none of us knew there was another hero in town, he probably needed directions.” The other villain finishes checking the bruise Indrid got when Joseph launched him into the console, “and hey, thanks to you we got an even earlier warning about him than we might have otherwise.”

Indrid stares at the floor, still wrongfooted by errors being met with kindness instead of punishment, “I should never have let that bear become so valued a nemesis. It is making me weak.”

Barclay bends, kissing the top of his head, “It’s okay, baby, you’re not the first villain to get territorial.”

“You never do.”

“Guess I just haven’t met the right hero.”

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

“Got a decent arm on you, blue eyes.” Barclay cracks his neck, standing from the crumple dumpster Joseph (AKA Roswell) punched him into when the trashcan he launched with telekinesis missed it’s mark.

“Same to you, but given your name I’m not surprised. Now hand over that remote and come quietly.”

“Not a chance.” He grabs Joseph when he swipes at the remote, Barclay strong enough to keep a hold on it even when Joseph tugs with his powers. Up close, he can see what Indrid meant when he said the hero had a face it would be a shame to damage.

Joseph flashes him a stunning smile as the remote begins getting hot. Fuck. Time for a new plan.

“You wanna know why they call me Bigfoot?”

“Wh--SHIT!” Joseph fights to free himself as Barclay shifts into his other form and hoists him over his head.

By the time Joseph pulls himself out of the dumpster, he’s no more than a disgruntled image in Barclay’s rearview mirror.

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

“Thanks for helpin me out, Joe.” Duck scans the Capitol Square for signs of trouble.

“Any time.” Joe studies the readouts on his communicator in case something elsewhere needs their attention.

Duck, like the rest of the Pine Guard, was skeptical when a new hero by the name of Roswell approached them and asked if they wanted his help protecting Kepopolis. Ned pointed out the distinct air of government about him, and Duck wondered why he’d chosen a city with a solid population of supers. But he’s helped them enough times in the last two months that Duck considers him an honorary member. Even more so since he started training with them.

Fuck, the guy’s got abs, looks so good doing his practice circuits that Duck has to face the other way to avoid whacking himself in the face with his whips. No one’s held his attention since…

No. No thinking of Emperor Moth that way. He promised himself that after the last jerk-off session about the villain. And the one before that. And the one before that one.

Even Joe’s backstory is hot; rule-following government man, stationed at a secret desert base, refuses to to help his fellow agents use confiscated, alien tech for weapons research. In the process of smuggling it out, it goes off. Everyone thinks he’s dead, but instead he receives heightened reflexes, increases intelligence, and telekinesis. How is Duck supposed to resist that?

“Um, Ursa? Is that who I think it is at your two? Right by the churro cart at the farmer’s market.”

“Holy fuck. Yep, that’s Indrid and Barclay all right. Huh. Guess even villains like local produce.”

“And Sunday dates. Look” Joe, now shoulder to shoulder with him, gently tugs his chin a little lower so he sees where the pair are holding hands.

“I’ll be damned.” Duck murmurs. Indrid is the same; same silvery hair, same wide smile, same face of enchanting angles and lithe, wiry limbs. He just looks lighter. Softer.

Happier.

Barclay holds out a doughnut and Indrid bites it, powdered sugar dusting his face. The bearded villain laughs, and kisses a spot of sweetness away. Duck’s confusion over why he’s glad Indrid has someone to do that for him is dwarfed only by his bafflement at why he wishes it were him.

Better to distract from those disastrous daydreams with doable ones.

“Hey, uh, Joe? You ever use your powers for more than restrainin’ villains?”

“Sometimes.” Joe turns so they’re chest to chest, smile downright mischievous, “are you hoping for a demonstration?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Then when we’re off the clock, I say we go back to my place for a drink and some, um, hands on illustrations of what I can do.”

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

“What are they playing at?” Indrid peers from the rooftop into the Fun Center.

“I think they’re literally just bowling.” His boyfriend’s voice comes through his earpiece from where he’s stationed at their shared base

“But we could be plotting, be about to wreck havoc, and they’d never know.”

“Are you dropping hints?” Barclay sounds perplexed.

“No. I just do not understand why my hero wishes to waste time with yours.”

“He’s not mine.” Barclay mumbles, but Indrid can hear his blush.

“Wait, they have finished their game.” He watches Duck and Joseph stroll to the latters car. Before he can open the door, Duck taps him so he’ll turn. When he does, the shorter hero shoves him against the black vehicle, kissing him ferociously. Indrid stabs the bubble of jealousy in his chest before it even inflates, finds it unhelpfully replaced by the wish to be in the car, close enough to hear whatever Duck is whispering against Joseph’s neck. Close enough that instead of driving off to finish their tryst in private, they crowd into the back seat with him and render him speechless.

“Shall I come home early?” He murmurs, knowing full Barclay is seeing through his glasses.

Barclay’s response is a promising growl, “yeah, little moth, think you’d better.”

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

“Give it up, moth, you know damn well I’m strongerOWow, fuck” Duck grits his teeth as Indrid claws his face. He could deploy the knife in the palm of the right glove, but most futures show him escaping without that.

“Yes, but you lack imagination, my ursine nemesis. Now get off of me so I can collect my prize and go home.”

“No can doFUCK.” Duck curses again as Indrid flips them, making it the heroes turn to slam his back into the concrete floor of the Reconcore Warehouse.

“Ta-taAH! Release me at once!” Indrid writhes as the SmarWhip tightens across his back, knowing his InstaPicks are trapped between their bodies. He’s not about to meet the humiliation of defeat while literally wrapped up with his enemy. There’s only one thing for it.

He means to headbutt the hero, he swears it, would do so even under the worst tortures of his past. But instead he brings their lips together with enough force to crack the teeth of a non-super. He pulls back a beat later, so surprised at himself he can’t track the futures.

Duck licks his lips, “About fuckin time.”

Indrid rolls to his side without a fight, the whips going slack and clattering on the concrete as Duck holds tight to the front of his suit, sucking his bottom lip as the villain flails his legs to wrap around sturdy thighs. He wiggles his hips in a plea he doesn’t trust his mouth to form, and Duck slots his knee between them.

“That’s it sugar, c’mon” Duck kisses him messily as he weaves his fingers into dark hair, “this why you’re always runnin around and makin me chase you? So needy you’ll give it up on the goddamn floor.”

“Yes, yesyes.” Indrid groans as kisses find his throat.

“Don’t bother me none. Think it’s kinda cute, and real fuckin flatterin.”

“Duck” he holds tighter; Barclay tends to take things slow, so he hasn’t cum this fast in months, “Duck please.”

“S’okay, sugar, you can cum.” The kiss is softer this time, “been wonderin’ what you look like when you do.”

Indrid gasps as pleasure spikes through his system. He doesn’t want to think of what comes next, what happens when he raises his head and sees Duck’s face return to its usual determined set.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go.” Duck hastily stands, then kneels and kisses him once on the forehead. He’s gone before Indrid can even offer to return the favor.

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

It’s supposed to be a minor mission, the two of them scrambling the city’s traffic grid from the office near Kepler Dam.

“Oh no.” Indrid bursts from the car he entered a moment before, sprinting back towards the device they planted at one of the power boxes, “ohnohnono.”

“What-”

“Someone remotely tampered with my device!” He rips off the back, “and they still are! If, if it goes how they have programmed it to, it will take out the dam, it, it will, so many people-”

“Can we break it manually?”

“You could switch each command wire to the color that precedes it on the spectrum, but that would still make an explosion large enough to kill anyone within fifty feet, with no time to run. All, all those people, all my fault, again, I cannot, not again, I have to-”

Barclay understands two things; he won’t let Indrid live with any more disasters on his conscience. He didn’t throw off his past for that. And he can’t bear the thought of Indrid dying.

He sets a hand on each narrow shoulder, “Fly home, little moth.”

“No, I, you cannot do this-”

“We always promised each other that if it came down to it, we’d save ourselves and not the other.”

“Yes, which you are expressly contradicting!”

Barclay kisses him one last time, “I love you, Indrid.”

Then he hits the emergency autopilot button on Indrid’s suit, his wings carrying him up and away before he has a chance to protest.

Re-ordering the wires is fast and easy; as the explosion hits the air, he hopes dying will be the same.

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

“How is he?” Duck pokes his head into the med room; because Joseph lacked a formal base during his travels, he has a procedure for adapting wherever he lives to superhero needs. Thank the lord for that, because when they found Barclay, singed and barely alive at the sight of an explosion, he knew he wasn’t handing him off to anyone else.

It took them five hours to get him stable, and Joseph’s heart twists every time he looks at his battered face; Barclay is careful and Indrid’s engineering is impeccable. What went wrong? Was Indrid there in the smoke and rubble and they didn’t see him?

One of his windows--his triple reinforced, alarmed, bullet-proof windows--shatters in the other room. He and Duck hit the living room at the same instant to find Indrid in his full villain apparel, nightsticks drawn.

“Where is he?” The villain demands, unyielding ice in every word.

“He’s in my med room. You can’t see him yet, he’s still in very bad shape-”

“I am taking him back with me.”

“Nuh uh, you move him now he’s liable to die.” Duck steps forward and Indrid hisses.

“Liars. You will keep him here, hand him over to the police when he is well. I am not going to lose him.”

“Indrid, we’re not going to do that, I swear.” Joseph’s never seen Indrid look this way, hardened and dangerous. Like he could kill them.

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

Indrid attacks him, is knocked off course mid-way there as Duck tackles him to the couch.

“‘Drid, for fuck’s” Duck holds the villain down, wincing as he slams his shoulders with his weapons, “we ain’t gonna hurt him or turn him in. You know I can’t lie, so calm the fuck down.”

“I, I will not, if I lose him I, I do not know what I will do with myself, he always takes care of me, I cannot fail him again, cannot leave him without care.”

“You ain’t” Duck’s voice is so gentle Joseph could melt. Indrid does, going limp as Duck eases them into a sitting position, “he’s bein cared for here, I give you my goddamn word.”

“If that’s not enough” Joseph steps behind the couch, setting his hands on the recently vacuumed cushions, “you can stay here while he recovers. To make sure we take care of him the right way.”

A strange, high noise fills the air. It’s only when Indrid hides his face in Duck’s shoulder that he understands it’s coming from the villain.

“Shhh, s’okay ‘Drid, he’s okay. We’ll look after you.”

“I, hic, I do , hic, not need-”

“We both know that ain’t true.” Duck hugs him. When Joseph strokes his hair, Indrid sobs harder. In the dark living room, he wonders when was the last time Indrid allowed himself such emotions. It must have been with Barclay; he might be a villain by name, but Joseph sees the gentleness within the giant.

“I’m going to go check on him; I need to monitor his vitals and make a few adjustments so he’s comfortable.”

Indrid simply nods. Duck lifts Joseph’s hand and kisses it, “I got this one.”

As he checks the villain over, cleans dirt from his cheeks and combs his hair, he understands how Indrid must feel. He confessed to his crush on his nemesis the night Duck came home, radiating guilty arousal, and told him what happened in the warehouse. Joseph never held it against him; for starters, Indrid is quite the catch himself. More importantly, his territorialism around Duck long ago crossed from keeping other villains from his target to simply saving Duck’s life.

By the time he returns to the living room, Indrid is asleep atop Duck on the couch. Joseph slips onto the far end, and guides Duck’s head into his lap, petting his hair until he too drops into dreaming.

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

“Thought the whole ‘writer’ thing was just cover.” Barclay says softly. He’s still bedridden, which is why Joseph moved his work station into the med room.

“No, I’ve always wanted to write about the paranormal.”

“Any favorite cryptids?”

“Bigfoot, of course.” Joseph winks just to watch Barclay blush. It’s a new sight, one he’ll never tire of. Truthfully, having Barclay in his house is something he never wants to end; his recovery gives them ample time to talk, rather than banter, and lord help him is Barclay his type. The two of them are locked in a game of romantic chicken. Which is very different from-

“Sugar, I gotta go to work.”

“Nonsense, call them at once and tell them you are needed here. For...spring cleaning?” Indrid hangs off Duck, glasses slipping down his nose as he nuzzles him.

“Nice try.” Duck kisses him, slips free and kisses Joseph too, “I gotta patrol after work, so I’ll be in kinda late.”

“Be safe.” Joseph kisses him one more time, squeezes his ass when he turns around. Is it his fault his boyfriend has the nicest ass in the state?

Indrid waves goodbye as Duck leaves the room, then begins making his usual nest in the beanbag chair he brought from his own home a week ago.

“Y’know, I’m glad he came to you guys. And that he and Duck are kinda working things out.” Barclay opens his mouth as Joseph feeds him the nicest pudding that he’s also able to keep down. When Barclay first woke up, Indrid alternated between being livid at him for sacrificing himself (“I am far worse than you, the world needs you more you horrible, brave man”) and cuddling him as much as his recovery allowed.

“Me too.”

“He uh, he pretty much never talks about his past, but it doesn’t take super smarts to work out it was fucked up. Showing weakness, accepting affection...it’s hard for him. Which made things rough for us early on, because all I wanna do is take care of him. Got no idea how he’s gonna react to having two more people who want to look after him.”

The answers include: sleep in Duck’s arms, read with his head in Joseph's lap, kiss Barclay whenever he can, and generally seek out any kind of touches the others will give him.

“You wanna order lunch later today?”

“Is this just an excuse to show off how good you are at picking food for each of us?”

Barclay blushes again, “Maybe.”

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

“I see your evil plot now, Emperor Moth; you suggested we do a movie night so you could steal all my body heat with your fuckin icicle fingers.”

“Nonsense, I am not just stealing your body heat. I am also stealing Joseph’s body heat.” Indrid preens.

“Hmm, how shall we deal with such a cunning villain?”

“I got a few ideas.” Duck drags Indrid into a kiss while Joseph loops his arms around his waist to tease his inner thighs.

“Got a few myself.” A soft voice rumbles from behind them. Indrid sits straight, all his attention on Barclay.

“On your knees, little moth.”

Indrid drops to the floor, blanket tangled around him. Joseph and Duck trade an intrigued look; Indrid leans towards the submissive, but this is a new form of it.

“Head in Duck’s lap.”

Indrid obeys. Duck strokes his cheek, “good boy.”

Barclay circles the couch as Duck pulls down his sweatpants. Indrid licks his lips, then looks up at the hero.

“You can touch, sugar. Suck too, if you want.”

“So very much. Oh” he sighs as Barclay cups the back of his head, “h-hello dearest.”

“Hey, baby. C’mon, show Duck just how good at this you are.” He nudges Indrid’s head forward, keeping his hold on it until Indrid hims and Duck makes a deeply undignified noise.

“Fuuuuck, thanks for sharin man.”

“Any time” Barclay strokes Indrid’s head, “my baby deserves to suck whoever’s dick he wants.”

Barclay steps back, Duck’s hand instantly sliding to replace it, holding Indrid tenderly in place while he blows him. Barclay eases himself onto Joseph’s right side as the hero contemplates whether he should start jerking off now or wait to see where this goes.

“Joseph?” Barclay suddenly sounds shy, “Can I, uh, can I kiss you?”

He climbs into his lap in reply, beard scratching his palms as Barclay moans down his throat.

“Took you two long enough.”

“Agreed” Indrid kisses Duck’s belly before returning to his task.

“Hey, we don’t all get lucky and get our wires crossed in a fight in a good way.” Barclay busies himself making beard-burn on Joseph’s neck.

“But you do get lucky enough to recover ahead of schedule.” Joseph nips the corner of his mouth.

“Uh, not sure I’m all the way there. But I felt good enough to get up and wander around. Glad I did.”

“Me too. Although, I’m not sure how much you should exert yourself.”

“I’m pretty tough, babe.”

“I know. Just to be safe…” Joseph kisses his nose, “is this position comfortable?”

“Very. Oh, oh fuck” brown eyes widen beautifully as he finds he can’t move, “fucking-A that’s so hot, Joseph, babe, shoulda asked you to use these one me like this the first time we met.”

“Would that have kept me out of the dumpster?”

“....Okay maybe not. Point is, please use your fucking powers on me whenever you want from now on.”

“You like being put in your place, big guy?” Joseph slowly grinds on him as he undoes Barclay’s bathrobe.

“By you? Yeah, I really fucking do.”

“Good. Stay there while I slip into something more comfortable.”

“Cornball” Duck chuckles fondly, then moans as Indrid slips a hand down to join his mouth.

Barclay’s eyes darken as Joseph strips down. By the time he’s naked, the other man is growling and his teeth and fingers are sharper than they were.

“No shifting tonight; I’m not sure how it will interact with your recovery.”

“The, the futures suggest it could reopen some wounds.” Indrid grins, “but you should try it at a later date; it is very fun to ride him in that form.”

“Someone better start riding me now or I’m gonna rip the couch in half--uh, wait. I, do we need-”

“The accident made me infertile and unable to catch all known illnesses.”

“Nice.” Barclay grabs his hips and yanks him down, the two of them moaning together as he sinks onto his cock. He rolls and rocks, Barclay grunting in time with his movements, mouth going slack after only a few bounces.

“Sensitive, big guy?”

“Uh huh, fuck, Joseph” his hold is terrifyingly strong and Joseph loves it, “babe, you feel so good.”

“Look it too.” Duck blows him a kiss. Indrid gives a little “mmhmm” and bobs his head.

“Fuck, I’m, fuck this is gonna be really embarassing, fuck, you’re so fucking good, feel so good.” He yips, pleased, when Joseph bears down harder. A sharp “fuck” bursts from beside them; he turns to watch Duck cumming on Indrid’s face. The villain doesn’t miss a beat, scrambling into his lap to kiss him before turning his red eyes on Barclay.

“The next time I pick things up from the hideout, I shall get your cockring.”

“A cockcage might be better for this, nnhff, beast.”

“Yes” Barclay growls, holding him down so hard he can’t get free. He gives him back the use of his hips and he bucks up violently, “yes, yes, put me in one, make me wear it all day, but you better put that one in one too, you, fuck, you’ve seen how he gets.”

“Nah.” Duck kisses Indrid slowly, “think I’ll tie him up and wring as many orgasms outta him as I can.”

Indrid gives a high, trilling moan and dives in for another kiss.

“Good plan.” Joseph can see it now; he even knows which rope Duck will likely use. Then he can’t see anything at all, his vision blurry as Barclay bounces him on his cock. There’s a howlgrowlpurr and then he’s cumming, growling even louder when Joseph clenches around him for fun.

“Fuck that was hot.” Barclay plants kisses down his brow, “how, how do you wanna get off, babe?”

“May I suggest sitting on my face?” Indrid says hopefully.

“Like mike cum so much you’ll lick it outta someone else, little moth?”

“No. Well, yes, but my offer comes from both a desire to know the feeling of blowing each of you, and because the position allows Duck to use his fingers on me while you, dearest, work my cock.”

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin smart sugar.” Duck hops up to retrieve the lube while the other two join Indrid on the floor. Joseph settles into position and immediately learns why Duck was being so loud.

“Lordalmighty, Indrid, you’re incredible.”

“‘Ank ‘ou.” Indrid closes his lips around his dick, humming until his toes curl. Barclay kisses him lazily, snickering when Indrid occasionally turns his head to lap at his softening cock.

“This is the best part.” Barclay murmurs as Duck pushes Indrid’s legs apart.

A muffled moan signals the other hero working his fingers in, Indrid twitching and whimpering as he fucks him. Joseph glances back to see Duck thoroughly entranced by the sight of his fingers opening that very cute ass up.

“You’re right, big guy, he sucks cock better when he’s screaming.”

“Learned that by putting a vibrating ring on his dick and making him cockwarm me.”

“Holy fuck.” Duck groans, “add that to the fuckin to-do list.”

Joseph lets himself be drawn into another kiss, stays there for a long, long time as Indrid’s cries coax his orgasm closer.

“Tell me when you’re close. Don’t want him cumming until you’re done.” Barclay whispers. Below them, Indrid whines. Barclay wipes cum from his boyfriend’s cheek, “you want to cum soon, better get Joseph off.”

“Shit” Joseph braces his hands on the floor, grinding his hips and dragging slick across Indrid’s chin, “shit, that’s it.”

“MMPPPHHHHH” Indrid thrashes as Barclay begins rapidly jerking him off. The villain even bends to lick the head once or twice, and Duck does his best to thrust harder whenever he does.

“Cannot fuckin wait to see you cum again, sugar. You looked so fuckin perfect last time.”

Cum splatters Joseph’s lower back, his own climax buzzing through his veins and bursting across his neurons, more intoxicating and invigorating than the neon green shock all those years ago.

He climbs off Indrid, flops back into what turn out to be Duck’s arms. Indrid shifts onto his side, curling his arms around Ducks leg and bumping Barclays knee with his thigh, “We are going to need a bigger house.”

Joseph believes in prudence and caution, in not rushing into relationships (especially with men who were once your enemies). But as he takes in the scene around him, the love flooding his chest, he knows Indrid is right.

He start researching listings in the morning.

#OT4: Government men and their cryptid boyfriends #indruck #sternclay #superhero au #meet ugly #inclay #taz amnesty #agent stern/duck newton #trans duck newton #trans agent stern

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eideticmemory · 4 years

Text

FINE LINE 3 | SPENCER REID

Two decades of history and two kids later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting. Part 3! Read Part 2 Here!

If you saw typos, no you didn’t ❤️

Word Count: 3,165.

Warning: Daddy issues, mommy issues, angst, romance, drama, yay!

PART 3: EDEN

Eden Penelope Reid was conceived on the twenty-sixth of September, on a ugly, yellow couch in the BAU briefing room. Not two feet from the roundtable! You didn’t mean for it to happen. The sex . . . or the baby. But they were both the result of a dark, disturbing case, sleep deprivation, a long plane ride back to DC, and an encounter in a dark room after everyone had gone home.

Spencer placed a long and slimy kiss to your lips, almost like he had been holding it from you for days. You stepped back, jolted, and you would’ve fallen backwards had Spencer not had his arms around you.

“What on earth are you doing?” you whispered, your voice still laced with shock and surprise.

“Wha — what do you mean . . . ?” Spencer asked, genuine confusion plastered over that pretty face of his. “I thought that’s why we came in here?”

“Oh, my goodness, I came in here to grab my things and go home, Hugh Hefner, where is your mind?”

“My mind’s on you,” he murmured, nuzzling your body into his, pressing his lips to your cheek. “Always.”

“Hm,” you hummed, your eyes fluttering closed as he gave you a dreamy kiss. “You’ve always had that verbal thing . . . quick mind, soft lips. You could talk your way into anything, Spencer Reid.”

“Yeah?” he mumbled, his lips pressed feverishly to yours. “Anything?”

“Yeah . . . anything.”

Stepping out of the shower and drying off, surrounded by the scent of fresh lavender, you wrapped yourself in a cotton towel. Your outfit was laid across the bed, from the top to the pants to the black flats. It felt a little morbid, as if you were staring at a dress made for a funeral. But, God, let’s face it, you’re just being dramatic.

You tied your hair up, and dropped the towel to your toes, warmth caught under the surface. As you took your shirt between your fingers, your bedroom door swung open with an intense creak, and you jumped out of your skin.

“Ah!” You screamed, hugging the fabric against your body, crouching down to hide any and every inch of your figure. “Spencer!”

“Whoa!” He crowed, immediately backing out of the room. “Sorry!”

“What the hell?” You shouted. You hugged the shirt, pressing it to your chest, your torso, one arm outstretched to cover your legs.

“I’m sorry, [y/n], I thought you were dressed!”

“Yeah, right . . . pervert. What are you doing here? I’m meeting you at the office in an hour.”

“I told you I was dropping by in the morning.”

“So?”

“So . . . here I am.”

“Sorry, I’m just not used to you being somewhere when you say you are, my mistake.”

He shook his head to himself, chin ducked down to avert his eyes, “I came to ask if you’d like a ride this morning? After we drop the kids off?”

“A ride?” You responded, quickly dressing yourself to maneuver an icky, uncomfortable situation. “We’re carpooling to therapy?”

“If you want,” he shrugged. “Thought we could get breakfast, maybe.”

You scoffed, and rolled your eyes as you marched towards the door. Prepared to confront Spencer with a bit of sass and sarcasm, you were taken aback by the sight of him. Early in the morning, hair perfectly curled around his face, and he was dressed in a wrinkle-free, perfectly pressed black suit. Like the ones you used to buy for him, just to see the way he moved in them.

“I think I’ll pass,” you told him. “I told the kids I’d take them to school today, and they’ve already got their hearts set on getting Dunkin’ this morning, so . . .”

“So, I’ll see you at the office,” he nodded, solemnly.

You returned the nod with a gentle motion of your head, and as you turned to walk off, Spencer aligned beside you, ultimately following you through the hall. “You look good,” he said. You didn’t respond, just released a silent exhale while focusing your attention forward. “It’s nice to know that . . . some things are still as nice as I remember.”

You laughed -- head thrown back, mouth open, the sound erupting like a volcano. “It’s not,” you explained, looking him in the eye as you approached the stairs. “It’s better.”

Four weeks after Eden Penelope Reid was conceived, you were in Texas, a small town outside of Austin haunted by a head of murders throughout the area. You can’t remember specifically what the town was called because you were so, fucking, sick. You woke up with a headache, nausea threatening to spill by the second, and a stomach ache that wouldn’t kick it. It was bad.

But you know how to put on a Brave Face. You pushed through, even with your husband’s voice echoing in your ear, close to your ear, his worried hand on your back.

“[y/n],” he pleaded. “You’re sick, just — please.”

“Spencer, I’m fine. I’m up, I’m walking, that’s a good sign. I’m okay.”

You visited a crime scene not fifteen minutes later. It was hot, very hot, suffocatingly hot, and you felt yourself. You felt yourself wobble on your heels. Felt the life just fall out of you, like gravity had sucked it into the Earth. Spencer called your name as your body fell.

“Mom?” E called, the sound of the traffic blending in with her voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, hun,” you glanced at her, balancing your attention between E and the road. “Why?”

“You’ve been hitting your juul more than usual lately,” she explained.

“What?” you gasped. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have. You’re driving with it in your hand right now!”

“On average, mom hits the juul 16 times an hour, but she’s just hit it seven times in the last five minutes,” Em added from the backseat.

“There. Statistics to back me up,” E gloated.

“I’m fine!” you laughed. “Really. I’m more than fine.”

“Really? So the sudden nicotine uptake has nothing to do with your super secret meeting with dad this morning?” E asked.

“It is not a super secret meeting, it’s two parents, meeting for a discussion.”

“Right . . . not secret at all.” She nodded.

You sighed, “A secret is an awful thing to keep. You can ask your Aunt Emily about that one, but, you know I’d never keep a secret from you,” you smiled.

“Right,” she nodded, suspicious at your sudden change in tone. “You sure you’re not keeping a secret, mom?”

“Are you profiling me?”

“Okay, enough with the profiling jokes.”

“No. Why? Are you keeping a secret from me?” you piqued. It’s been buried. For almost a week now. E, and the boy, as you call him. For a few days, you just needed solitude, time to process and understand. After that, came the confrontational period, well, as confrontational as you get with Eden. Which means you dropped subtle hints until she just thought you were being weirded than usual. But now, she had reason to be suspicious that you were suspicious, and two suspicious Reid women don’t make a mix.

“No?” She responded, slowly, her eyebrow raising at you. “Why?”

“No?” You paused to take a breath. “Okay.” “What does that mean?” “Nothing.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” E asked, her arms now crossed over her chest. Not good. She’s defensive. E’s never defensive.

“See, that’s just the same as the secret thing we had going earlier,” you joked.

“Ugh,” E groaned.

“What?”

“You always get like this,” she shook her head.

“Like what?” “Like this when dad comes around!”

You stopped the car, the brakes skidding to a halt at the school entrance. “Are you -- E, this isn’t about your dad, this is . . . about that boy. That boy that kissed you at your party. The boy who kissed my sixteen year old daughter on the cheek.” “What?” E snapped, sitting up in her seat.

Em slid out of the car, ran to class.

“I mean,” you rambled. “ I have an eidetic memory, E, I can’t unsee that!”

“See that . . . ?“ she whispered to herself. You could see the wires clicking in your head. Her eyes widened, “You saw that? You saw --” She began to pack up her stuff, scrambling really, grabbing her iced coffee.

“E --” you stuttered. “What are you doing? Hey, hey, talk to me.” “I’m late for school, mom, I’ll text you.”

“E --”

“Bye.” you were cut off by the sound of the car door slamming in your face. If ‘what the fuck?’ could be a facial expression, you were wearing it right now.

You had a concussion when the doctor told you about Eden Penelope Reid. You had fallen on the concrete, and couldn’t really see straight. You felt Spencer though. He was holding your arm and supporting your wobbling body with his since you’d hoped straight out of the hospital bed.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Reid,” The doctor smiled at you.

“Huh? What? Congratulations?” You slurred, tired and confused and looking to your husband.

“Oh, I’m . . . sorry, I thought of you . . .” After exchanging glances with Spencer, she sighed and beared another grin. “You’re . . . pregnant. About five weeks along.”

You fainted. Again.

“Hey,” Spencer greeted you, following your fast footsteps with his eyes.

You rounded the edge of the couch and took a seat beside him, huffing as you plopped down, only to give him a glance of acknowledgement.

“You’re late, I thought you got lost,” he said.

“Nope, just took the scenic route,” you grumbled. “Hi, I’m [y/n],” you directed at the therapist sitting across from you. She wore dark red lipstick and a matching blouse, her nails a deep purple over her slacks. Okay. Cool.

“Olivia Oliphant,” she nodded kindly. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” “Oh, just [y/n], please,” you told her.

“Well, [y/n], Spencer here was just telling me about your kids.”

“Oh?” You looked at Spencer. “He was?”

“Yep, Eden and Emerson, beautiful names. How did you guys pick them?”

When you were approximately five weeks pregnant with Eden Penelope Reid, you felt the most excruciating pain of your life. That’s including two rounds of childbirth, some beatings, a bullet wound. You clamp down on your lower stomach, grasping for air as you collapsed to the floor, in the middle of a crowded police station. Penelope rushed to your side, calling your name, “Oh, my goodness, [y/n], what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” “I don’t --” you whimpered. “Something’s not -- ow! -- something’s not right!” Local PD helped you to your feet, a worried Garcia following behind them. “C--call Spencer!” You pleaded, although the phone was already to her ear.

Spencer had just been shot in the neck.

They didn’t think he was going to make it. They didn’t think he was going to make it. You beat Derek, pounding your fists into his chest for not telling you sooner, broke down in the center of the waiting room.

But he did make it.

He made it, and he was right here. He was right here, and you were right here, and E was at school, mad at you, and it was eating you alive. Did you completely undo your ‘cool mom’ reputation with one meltdown? No, how could you?

“[y/n]?” Dr. Oliphant called.

You zoned back into reality, both Spencer’s and her concerned faces focused in on you.

“Yes,” you cleared your throat. “Well, Eden is named after East of Eden by John Steinback, and . . . Emerson is named after Ralph Waldo Emerson.”

“And,” she began. “Would you say your kids are your main reason for being in therapy?”

“Oh, wow, okay, just jumping into it, got it,” you huffed.

Spencer was still eyeing you, worried and troubled. He knows you. He knows when you’re upset, and stressed, and he couldn’t stop staring at your nails. “Uh . . .” you hummed. “Hm? . . . hm? Would I say that there’s any other reason I’m in therapy for sixty minutes with my ex-husband? No.”

“[y/n].” Spencer spoke, turning his body full to you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you shook your head.

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “ I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Yes, yes, yes, you’d ask what’s wrong, and I nothing’ed my way through our marriage and we got divorced. I know.”

“Jesus,” he sighed, exasperated, pressing his palm to his forehead.

An awkward silence floated throughout the room for what felt like hours. You stared at your shoes, and huffed. Lifting your head up to smile at Dr. Oliphant, you said, “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

There was an earthquake in California the day Eden Penelope Reid was born. A magnitude of four. This would not have mattered in the slightest -- due to the fact that you were on the other side of the country -- but Spencer was there. In California, sitting in the dark, surrounded by broken glass when Eden was born.

She came at night, after your water broke at the BAU headquarters. You spent hours of the day stumbling around a hospital room, waiting for Spencer to show. Penelope’s quick with a phone, she knew hours before you finally asked her.

“Penelope?” You whimpered, curled up in the bed with your hand pressed to your back.

“Yes?” She pipped.

“Spencer’s not coming . . .” you turned to her. “Is he?”

“We’ve got to talk.”

You glanced over your shoulder, rolling your eyes, “Spencer, please.”

“[y/n], come on,” he pleaded.

You looked him in the eye, sighing as you leaned back in your seat. You could hear the kids shuffling around upstairs, having just been dropped off by Spencer, who was stern and pressed. It was kind of funny.

“I was in a bad mood,” you told him.

“Bad mood? [y/n], you sat there for forty-five minutes sipping your coffee every time Dr. Oliphant asked you a question so you couldn’t talk with a full mouth.”

“Bad mood . . .” you repeated, this time quieter, softer, to yourself.

Spencer’s expression softened, almost instantly. “[y/n]?” he called. “What happened? You’ve been biting your nails, I know something’s wrong.”

You crumbled. You ran yours hands over your face and sobbed. From that moment Spencer and you saw E with that boy, you’ve been reliving it over and over. Trying to recognize his face, and it wasn’t until just last night that you realized it’s . . . Spencer. This boy looks just like Spencer, and you can’t even figure out how you feel about Spencer, -- who you didn’t meet until you were 23, by the way -- let alone this kid.

So how is E doing? How is she already so comfortable around him? And kissing. Have they kissed before? You don’t want to know. No. You do want to know. It’s all you want. You want the most important girl in your life to talk to you, to confide in you the way she did when she was seven years old. But now she’s sixteen and she won’t even look at you.

“And of course, I found a way to blame it on you,” you paused to breath after a long rant. “Because, well, you’re here, which is still weird to me, but hey,” you shrugged, inhaling a hit from your juul.

Spencer nodded his head understandingly, biting down on his to contain a smile. “Now, that . . . is how you should’ve spoken in therapy this morning.” He laughed.

You chuckled, for the first time all day, and rolled your eyes, “Next time.”

“Next time?” He grinned. After connecting his eyes to yours, and seeing a glimmer of confirmation, he sat up, “Well, okay, cool. Then, next time I’ll tell you that you are the best mother on the planet. Raising the kids the way you did . . . you made Eden who she is. You made that incredible girl, and you shaped her into the slightly . . . stubborn girl she is today. She is her mother’s daughter, she just needs someone to push past the hardhead every once in a while.”

You exhaled, a slow, steady breath.

Spencer.

He stayed until Sunday afternoon. Just like he said he would. A whole day after you wandered into E’s room, full of fresh courage and love. You asked her if she was hungry, and she said no. By the time you left, you had a name. Sullivan.

“Sullivan?” You repeated. “Does he go by Sully?” You cackled.

“When he was six!” She shouted, a fit of giggles dribbling from her lips. “He goes by Van now.” “Oh, my goodness,” you feigned as though you were collapsing on the bed. “Van?”

“Yes! Hey, don’t judge! You married a guy named Spencer.”

“[y/n]! [y/n]? [y/n] --” Spencer’s voice lowered to immediately silence the moment he stepped into the room. Under the hospital lights, you laid on a bed, a tiny baby in your arms and a soft smile on your face.

“Don’t be shy now,” you giggled. “Come in.”

He stepped into the room, slowly, his breath shaky from running down the halls. “I--is, is this her?”

“No, I misplaced the actual baby, so they gave me a very life-like doll,” you smirked.

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, placing a million and one kisses to your forehead. “You’re incredible, you did -- incredible,” he held you close, looking down at the infant against your chest. “So, what’s her name? You did remember to pick one, didn’t you?”

“Yep, UnSub --”

“[y/n] . . .” he smiled.

You laughed, holding your child up to her father. “This . . . is Eden Penelope Reid.”

Spencer didn’t come out of his room for hours before he was set to leave on Sunday. As worried as you were, you kept to entertaining the kids in the living room. The two of them were snacking on some popcorn, watching a movie on netflix. Em was tucked underneath your arm, and you did your very, very best to focus in on the TV. But the moment you heard the hinge of his bedroom door, you sat up in your seat.

He came down the steps in a stomping rage. Didn’t even come in to join you all, just called for you, “[y/n] . . . [y/n], can you come here, please?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, and stood to your feet, nervously eyeing the kids. “Be right back,” you told them, before walking out into the foyet.

“Okay . . .” Spencer said, just above a quiet whisper. “Okay, okay . . .” He was trying to calm himself down. Pacing, muttering, hands on his hips.

“Spencer?” You walked up to him. “Hey, what’s the matter? Hey . . .”

“I’ve had . . . some time to process, some time to fully understand the information, but I know that you, haven’t, so I’m going to get to it . . . Catherine Adams is being injected tomorrow.”

Crickets. Silence. No sobs, no boo-hoos, nothing. “And?” You replied. “Are we throwing a party? Because that can be arranged.”

“And in exchange for her cooperation in multiple homicide investigations . . .” Spencer sighed, his head ducked down, hands in his pockets. “She gets a final request.”

You scoffed, rolled your eyes, “What does she want now? A night with you at the Ritz? Just give it to her at this point so she’ll kick the bucket.”

“She wants to see Eden.”

“Wha --” The sound slipped out before you could catch it. Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts. So many. And all you could say was, “No. Absolutely-fucking-not . . . fuck!”

“[y/n] --”

“The psycho who had my daughter kidnapped wants to . . . meet her? She can go straight to hell, and suffer on the way there.”

And that was the moment, Eden Penelope Reid stepped into the doorway, her hands stern at her side, her face brazen with courage and strength, “I want to do it.”

#mine #fl #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid/reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine

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snowdragon4 · 3 years

Text

Cops and Robbers. A Bbrae AU

As much as Rachel enjoyed her job, she couldn’t help, but feel exhausted coming home at the end of a long day. Maybe it was the fact that she was on her feet all day, thank goodness for whoever invented flats. Still it was stable and fine work, a solid nine to five, giving her enough time to get home to work on her novel. The monotony of her daily routine was broken up when on her way home she noted a healthy handful of police cars driving around her neighborhood.

“Huh? I wonder if Dick could let me know what’s going on?” She of course was referring to her cop neighbor, Dick Grayson, but driving by his house, all the lights were shut off. “Maybe he and Kory are out.” She shrugged it off and parked her car before entering her home.

She moved through the doors of her modest three bedroom home as she usually did. Keys and mail on the table by her door, purse and jacket on a hook, turned on the TV for a bit of background noise and a nice cold beer in the fridge calling her name. She figured she’d make herself dinner, take a hot bath, and settle in for a night of writing.

With the news in the background she went about her nightly routine.

“—citizens of Jump city should be advised that the suspect could be armed and dangerous. For those who are just joining, please be on the lookout for Garfield Mark Logan, who escaped police custody earlier this evening—“

She took a beer from the fridge and removed the cap. “If his parents named him ‘Garfield’ they belong in prison too.” She commented dryly.

“—Garfield is wanted for the murder—“

She had gone to the counter when something had occurred to her. Going back she opened the door to the fridge and noticed something.

She was a creature of habit and structure, bordering on obsessive compulsiveness, but it made sense to keep her world in order at least. She had so much practice in fact that she noticed things out of place, even if it was just a fleeting glance. In this case there was something wrong with her beer. Was she missing one? She went shopping the other day, and only allowed herself and one a day or less, so surely she couldn’t have had more than one.

She counted a few more times, but came to the conclusion that she was, somehow, short one beer.

She took a step back when she felt something crunch beneath her heel. Lifting her foot she saw a pebble and some dirt, something she hadn’t noticed before. Didn’t she just clean the other day? Looking around she noticed more and more dirt leading from her kitchen and to the back door.

A back door that wasn’t locked.

If there was one thing she was absolutely sure about, it was that she ALWAYS locked her doors.

Her blue eyes flitted to the TV, noting the news report about an escaped convict, but surely he wouldn’t have run into a suburban neighborhood. That kind of stuff only happened in movies. Right?

She broke into a run, heading for her front door, but her hand had barely touched the knob when she felt someone wrap their arm around her waist and a hand clap over her mouth. Reacting purely on instinct, she stumped on their foot, eliciting a manly grunt of pain, and elbowed them in the ribs causing them to release her.

Momentarily free, she ran for the back door, telling herself she just had to get next door to Dick and Korys house. Nobody may have been home, but she would have felt safer in a cops home.

She weaved through the kitchen, aware that he was right behind her, but she kept her eyes on the door. She put her hands around the knob, but felt a pair of hands grab her arms and pull her back. She stumbled over something, him possibly, and fell backwards, hitting her head on the counter and collapsing onto the floor unconscious.

—:0:—

Her head was pounding as she slowly came back to consciousness, but when she tried to move her hands, they were stuck, in fact she couldn’t move any part of her body. Regardless of how much pain she was in, her eyes snapped open, finding that she was tied to a chair. Her hands had been pulled behind the chair, rope wrapping around her wrists and to the bars of the chair. Her ankles had been tied to the bottom rung of the chair and rope had been thrown over her lap, waist, and shoulders to keep her tied firmly to the chair back. Moving her head she felt one of her scarves had been stuffed in between her teeth and tied behind her head.

Saying she was in trouble was an understatement.

She wanted to panic, but she forced her rational, obsessive mind to take control. She took a few breaths through her nose to assess her situation. Looking around she was in her bedroom, the curtains drawn and the door closed. She had been tied to one of her kitchen chairs with rope that she kept in her garage that she used when she went camping to enjoy nature and solitude.

Her panic returned.

She had been unconscious, did he…?

She looked at herself, and aside from the rope she was still in the clothes she was in when she got home, white button up shirt and black skirt with flats, and nothing had been removed. Aside from the pain in her head, and the discomfort of the rope, she didn’t feel pain anywhere else.

Her rational mind returned.

So he knocked me out? Tied me up, but didn’t take advantage of me? He’s probably looting my home. But all of her valuables were in her room, were she was alone.

Still, a strange man was in her home, she was tied up and helpless. This wasn’t good.

Red and blue lights flashed outside her window, and a spark of hope lit inside her. Using her whole body, she began pushing the chair towards the window. If she could somehow get the curtain open, maybe someone could see her and possibly rescue her.

It was worth a shot, but not to be.

The door to her room opened and her chair was quickly grabbed and pulled away from the window. She grunted and growled behind her gag, struggling against the tight ropes. Whatever he was going to do, she was going to make it as hard for him as possible.

But she wasn’t expecting this.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Please calm down! please!”

She paused. Sorry? Please? She focused on the man, seeing that it wasn’t quite a “man” at all. He was young, twenties maybe, with disheveled blonde hair and a dirty complexion and clothing. His eyes were a piercing green that were pleading, fearful, and remorseful. Her brows narrowed, angry, but curious. What kind of home intruder was this?

He sighed in relief when she settled down. “Thank you.” He stood up and started pacing, his hands running through his blonde locks. “I am so, so, so, so, sorry about this. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Any of this. It's just—ugh!” She involuntarily flinched at his outburst. “Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry I didn’t mean…” He continued babbling incoherently, that was beginning to grate on her nerves, but looking past him, saw that he had brought in a water bottle. For her maybe?

“Uughmph!” She grunted to get his attention, then motioned her head towards the water bottle.

“Oh! Yeah!” He grabbed it and brought it towards her. “Sorry, I’m just,” he paused, “wait, you're not gonna scream are you?”

She watched him closely, he broke into her home, attacked her, tied her up, and was now helpless and at his mercy.

Yet she wasn’t afraid.

Slowly, she shook her head no. He eyed her for a moment, but slowly came up to slip the gag from her mouth.

She moved her jaw around, sighing with relief, but didn’t scream. “Thank you.” She could see weight being lifted from his shoulders and a small, attractive smile on his lips. “Um, water?”

“Oh yes!” He brought it to her lips and allowed her a small drink. Her eyes closed at the liquid cooling her insides, helping to soothe and calm her down. She finished and he took the bottle away.

“Thank you.” She flexed against the rope. “Now can you untie me?”

The weight returned, and his smile faded into a worried stare. “Um… not yet, but if you don’t scream I’ll keep the gag out.”

Their eyes met, and still she couldn’t find any malice or maliciousness. She didn’t feel threatened, rather this felt like a necessity for him, self preservation, like a cornered animal.

Still she had to keep her guard up.

“Fair enough.”

He sighed again, becoming more relaxed, and he sat on top of her bed, a heavy silence settling between them. “So, um, you’re probably wondering what’s going on?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m mildly curious.”

He laughed nervously. “Right. Well, um, I’m Gar, and I’m…”

“—on the run from the police?” He looked surprised, “you’re on the news. Everyone is looking for you.”

His eyes dipped with what looked like hurt. “Oh.” Her head tilted in curiosity as he leaned forward to put his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry…”

Now getting annoyed, “You’ve said that already.” She struggled against the ropes again. “Do you mind telling me what you're doing here?”

He lifted his head, wiping away a few tears. “Sor—erm, yes. Well,” he stood up, “I should start from the beginning I guess. So I was dating this girl, Terra, and I was crazy about her, but what she didn’t tell me was that another guy was obsessed with her. Some guy named Slade, I don’t know, but anyways he was stalking her, calling her, following her, all kinds of stuff.”

He slowed down, his voice tightening up. “I, uh, was at work, and when I got home…” his hands came up to his mouth, “she was…”

She couldn’t help but feel pity for him. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, wiping his tears again. “Thanks. Anyways I called the cops and when they showed up, they arrested ME?”

Her head lifted. “What? Why?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. They just showed up and slapped the cuffs on me! Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

She waited a beat, wondering if he was serious or just stupid. “No. I have no idea what it’s like for someone to come uninvited to my home and restrain me against my will.”

He chuckled nervously. “Heh. Sorry—I mean. Um… anyways…”

There was silence for a moment or two. “Why did you escape? Why not just go to the station and plead your case?” She asked.

“I did! I mean, I wanted to…but I don’t know.” His hands ran through his hair again. “The cop car they took me in was T-boned, and the next thing I knew I was running for my life.”

She quirked a brow as she came to the conclusion on her own. “You mean you broke into my home by chance?”

He nodded. “It was the only home I saw with the lights off at the time, I picked the lock, and snuck inside. I grabbed a beer and was gonna leave when the heat died down, but then, I heard your neighbors leave so I hid.”

“Then I got home, and the rest is history.” She finished.

“Yeah. I hid as best I could, but when I saw you see the dirt on the ground, I knew I was done.” He motioned to the ropes. “I didn’t mean to do that to you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just panicked.”

She relaxed a bit. “I see.”

Silence again, this time a bit more uncomfortable. “So, um, what’s your name?”

He shrunk beneath her glare. “You broke into my home, knocked me out, drank my beer, and tied me up. We are not going to have small talk.”

He gulped with another nervous smile. “Cool.”

He clapped his hands on his knees. “So what now?” She asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

She pulled against the rope again. “Well if you're open to suggestions.”

“I know, I know, I can untie you and I will, I promise. I just need to think.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well take your time, it’s not like my hands need steady blood flow or anything.” She softened her tone. “But seriously. You need to turn yourself in, if you’re innocent then an investigation will show that.”

He nodded. “I know, I know. I guess I’m just not a fan of being caged or anything.” He stood up. “Just, give me a minute.” He left her alone, giving her a chance to test the ropes again, but they were unyielding. She couldn’t help but feel impressed by his knot work.

After a few minutes of struggling she sat back and relaxed, unable to free herself she had nothing left to do but wait for him to let her go. Hopefully soon since she had lost the feeling in her hands a while ago.

Finally after what felt like ages he returned. “Okay, here’s the plan.” He untied the scarf from her neck. “I’m going to turn myself in, but there’s some things I need to do first, but here’s the bad part. I’m gonna to leave you here.”

She was actually relieved to hear this. He wasn’t dangerous, sure, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be a hostage. “But I’m not gonna untie you either. I’m gonna make a 911 call and tell them about a pretty dark haired woman tied up and get the cops to come and untie you. Sound good?”

Her face was placid as she responded, but ultimately relieved. “Do I have a choice?”

He chuckled. “I guess not. Again, I’m sorry about all this.”

He brought the scarf to her mouth to regag her. “Rachel.”

“Huh?”

“My name. It’s Rachel.”

He smiled. A wide smile that made her stomach flutter. “Rachel. Nice to meet you.”

—:0:—

The door burst open. “Police! Show me your hands!” Rachel flinched at the light shining in her eyes. “Is there anyone else in the house?” She shook her head as the officer came closer once the light was out of her eyes, she saw her neighbor, Dick Grayson remove the gag from her mouth.

“Took you long enough,” she droned, “did you stop for drive through?”

He let out a relieved chuckle, “Don’t you mean, ‘thank you for saving me’?”

“You’re right Dick, how about I give you a big hug… Oh wait.”

He moved behind her and began to undo the ropes. “Did you see who did this to you?”

“Nope.” She stated matter of factly. “They knocked me out and I woke up like this.”

#dc comics #dc comics fanfic #bbrae ship #bbrae fan art #bbrae comic #bbrae fanfiction #teen titans fanfiction #AU Teentitans #bbraeAU

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buckstaposition · 3 years

Text

I cling to your lips like gloss (4)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

tags&warnings: spoilers for S3 eps1+2 mainly, some for later episodes also; mention of drug use; brief description of a panic attack; sleazy David Rodríguez is sleazy; somewhat liberal use of the f-word and also other swearing; reference to past canon character deaths; this blog is CIA station chief Bill Stechner-phobic to the max; most non-graphic, vaguest possible reference to sex (to when Javi goes home with that lady in episode 1); oblivious mutual pining; idiots with zero emotional self-awareness; domesticity

word count: 15.435 (I’m sorry, here are some snacks 🍌🥨🧁🥤)

summary: Diana goes into the lions’ den. Javier is not having a good time. No one gets enough sleep.

tag list & author’s notes have been moved to the bottom. let me just say sorry this took me so long and I hope you’re all well and healthy and happy holidays and may the new year be better for all of us

Masterlist

Prologue • Chapter 1 - The Informant • Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals • Chapter 3 - Swallow Pride and Anger

Chapter 4 - Prime Numbers

Franklin Jurado, Diana thinks, is a bit of an ass. It's not even that he happily, willingly, goes around laundering narcos' blood money, or that he gets rich off that himself. In this moment, it's mostly the way he dismissively rolls his eyes and can barely keep the contempt out of his voice when arguing with her about Maltese vs Caymanian tax loopholes. Like she's an idiot for actually reading the laws, spotty as they are.

On top of everything, it's keeping her in her office well past the time she was meaning to start getting changed and dolled up for the grand party that night, and she feels a pressure headache of annoyance building behind her temples to boot.

She's this close to bludgeoning the man with her stapler when an insistent knock sounds at the door, followed by a blonde head poking in. The blonde lady starts speaking in rapid English, too abrupt for Diana's brain to keep up with what is being said, but she instinctively recognized the tone of a husband being reamed out with righteous indignation and if nothing else, it gives her a certain kind of vindication.

"Hi, I'm Christina Jurado. Just Christina is fine. Pleasure to meet you!" The other woman now stepped fully into her office, holding out her hand and smiling just a tad too brightly.

"Diana...Galindo." Why she'd chosen to be known here under her married name is anyone's guess. Perhaps it was mostly a matter of having grown used to it. Perhaps it allowed her to pretend that this wasn't quite her, just an act to be put on for a greater purpose. That helping drug cartel bosses hide their blood money from the tax man and signing off on their henchmen's paychecks was something that Diana Teresa Artemisia Rivas Rincón would not be caught dead doing, no matter the circumstances. "Pleased to meet you."

"Franklin, we'll be late!" the other woman throws over her shoulder. Rather pointedly, too.

"We're not done discussing-"

"I don't care, Franklin!" There's a moment of very animated eye contact, the kind of wordless back-and-forth that she'd dreamt of developing with Juan Mateo but that they never quite managed. Just another little detail that ultimately spelled the end of their marriage. "Actually, why don't your ride with us?"

"I, um-" Diana instinctively reached to adjust the wire she'd been wearing for most of the day (to get used to the feeling and not inadvertently betray herself later), only catching herself in the last moment and fidgeting with the collar on her blouse instead. "I- Felipe was supposed to drive me. I need to get ready still, too."

"Eh, he can tag along. What are you wearing? Do you have your dress here?" She did. There was no arguing with Christina, but no malice in her overbearing imperiousness either. Nonetheless, Diana tried to argue, if only for politeness' sake. How she wouldn't want to impose. That it wasn't a problem, since Miguel Rodríguez had very kindly arranged for her transportation in the form of the afore-mentioned Felipe. Mrs Jurado waved it all off. And perhaps the obvious annoyance in Franklin Jurado's eyes gave her a little push. Say what one might about the Rodríguez brothers, but at least neither of them had ever questioned her professional expertise.

Before she knows what hit her, the three of them are sailing out of the building and towards the cars parked out front. Well, Christina is sailing, while Franklin and Diana are trotting along behind her and shooting each other sour looks. It's the kind of wrathful indignation that she hadn't felt since second grade, when Bruno Moreno had pulled her pigtails and stolen her pencil. Christina seemed unperturbed, ordering the drivers around in her accented but surprisingly decent Spanish. Felipe caught Diana's eye, wringing his hands and questions in his eye.

"It seems I will be riding with Mr and Mrs Jurado. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to follow us to their hotel and then take my work clothes back to the office after I've changed? I'd hate to have to lug around my stuff or leave it lying around somewhere. You'd be a great help this way, and as far as I'm concerned, you can go straight home after that."

"Of course, ma'am." He nodded, seeming relieved by the clear instructions. Diana smiled and handed off her garment bag to the Jurados' driver.

The drive itself could have been more awkward, what with being caged in the back of this limousine with two strangers, one of whom all but openly despised her and spent his time pouting after his wife had told him in no uncertain terms that if a single word of work talk left his lips she'd shove him out the door and into oncoming traffic. Luckily she also had made it her personal mission to pack half an evening's worth of small talk into the barely twenty-minute-ride.

The Jurados' suite was grand, the lounge alone bigger than the house Diana had grown up in. She was still trying not to show how out of place she felt among all the marble and gilded edges when Christina steered her towards the back, still prattling on in a way that the DEA would have a lot of fun picking through when they got the recording from her wire.

"Ugh, this place is so... Sorry, we wanted the president's suite, but one of the North Valley people snatched it up. Their... Who is he, Franklin? That unpleasant little man - is he the leader of the pack? With the young woman we saw when we checked in. Was that his wife?"

"Salazar." Franklin muttered, his face curdling into a deeper frown. At least Diana wasn't at the top of his most hated list, apparently. "Yeah, I think so honey."

"She looked awfully young."

"I'm sure we'll meet them all at the party."

"Something to look forward to." Christina grimaced and pulled Diana into the spacious bathroom, settling her down in front of a gigantic vanity mirror.

"Alright, what are we doing with you?" Diana looked at her own wide-eyed reflection staring back at her while Christina started pulling her hair free from the simple clip she'd used to hold it up.

"I, uh-" Diana pushed her glasses back up her nose and frowned. "I have contact lenses." She gestured vaguely towards her reflection. She had also packed a small bag with the handful of make-up items she owned, but lack of practice didn't exactly serve to make her adept at using them. Christina grinned excitedly, her whitened teeth shining. "Well no, that won't do! Hang on."

She sprung up and rushed towards the door, only stopping when she reached her husband who had lingered there, leaning against the frame.

"Hey you." For a moment, they softened, stealing a small kiss amid halted momentum. Diana ached to witness it. "Hey yourself."

"Go get changed." Christina smiled, kissing his cheek as she brushed past to dive into her suitcase.

"You're telling me? Don't take too long, we're on a schedule here." The words were softened by his tender expression, and as she walked past on her way back he reeled her in for another, deeper kiss. Diana pretended to be very invested in not poking her eyeballs out. Well, half-pretended. Putting in contact lenses was another thing she wasn't exactly used to. When she'd finally managed to fumble the second lens onto her eyeball, Franklin had long left and closed the door.

Without further ado, Christina set to work. Within moments, the marble counter was covered with various cosmetics and the other woman's eager hands set to work. Diana had no choice but to submit. Thankfully again, it was Christina who shouldered the bulk of the conversation.

"So, I did notice you're not wearing a wedding band, Mrs Galindo." Diana's eyes were closed, as her eyeshadow was currently being blended, but she did stiffen and instinctively her other hand went to touch where her ring had been. "Oh damn, I hope that wasn't- He's not tragically deceased, is he?"

"No, we're...separated. Divorcing. It's... it's dragging on, to be honest. I've learned more about Colombian marriage law in the past year than I ever wanted to know." She tried to diffuse with a joke, but it didn't quite land.

"Sorry, you must think me so rude. We only just met and here I am acting like we're friends!" She bit out in a jarring departure from her hitherto genial tone. "Anyway, I admire you. That can't have been easy what with how...uh-"

"...Catholic this country is?" Diana supplied, clasping the other woman's hands in hers with a slight smile. Christina huffed in relief. "Yes, I suppose. It's just... it's so hard. Marriage I mean. Sometimes I don't even know how to bear it." Her gaze fell towards the bathroom door that Franklin had closed behind himself upon leaving. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued. "How did you even know you couldn't go on like this?"

Diana gulped, hating what she was about to do. Resenting, for a moment, women like Gabriela who only had to sell a bit of their time and acess to their bodies to these people. She felt like she was selling away her soul every single day.

"Mrs Jurado-"

"Christina. Please, you can call me Christina."

"Christina, let me be honest. I never truly loved my husband, and he didn't love me. We liked each other and it was convenient, and expected, to get married. And in the end that proved to not be enough. But from what little I have seen, that's not something you and your husband have to contend with. Even if things are hard, as long as there is love you can overcome them. You have to believe in that."

Christina choked out a tearful little laugh, like in spite of herself.

"Oh God, good thing I haven't put on mascara yet. You're making me all dewy-eyed." She chuckled, then threw her arms around Diana and gave her a tight squeeze. "Thank you. Really."

"Of course," Diana awkwardly patted the other woman's back, thankful that she wasn't currently facing the mirror, "and I would be happy to become your friend." Whatever ice had remained between the two women was broken after that. Christina perked up and returned to chatting animatedly, finishing her make-up, doing up her hair in a very elegant twisted bun, and gushing over her dress.

"Do you have any jewelry to go with it?"

"Not really, no. I only ever wear this." Diana indicated the thin silver chain around her neck. Christina tutted.

"Well, that just won't do. Wait, let me just-" An impatient knock at the door interrupted her. "Oh dear, looks like we're running late."

Diana saw a chance to get a moment alone and suggested they each get dressed quickly, and separately, lest they waste any more time and husbandly nerves with their chatter.

"Okay, but holler if you need help with the zipper or anything."

Diana had never squeezed into a garment faster, glad that she had chosen to put on the wire device that morning already. She tugged the actual wire tight around her body where it had loosened over the course of the day, then shimmied into the underdress she'd brought in the hopes that it would conceal any suspicious bumps or lines. She had almost wrestled the zipper into its final position when Christina knocked and entered, quickly getting the last inch or so with a comment of how husbands were useful for some things.

"Anyway, I thought these would suit you." Christina presented an opened velvet case. Sitting inside it was a jewelry set, sapphires with diamonds set in gold. Real ones, judging by the Cartier labelling embossed into the velvet. A necklace, earrings, bracelet and ring, all fancier and more ostentacious than anything Diana had ever set eyes on. Immediately, her palms started sweating.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly-"

"Nonsense." Christina cut her off, placing the case down and snatching the bracelet and Diana's wrist. "You'll look so pretty and expensive. You can return them to me later, we'll be in town until Tuesday." Having clasped the bracelet around her wrist, she now moved on to the earrings. "Maybe we could get coffee on the weekend or something."

"I'd like that." Diana lied. Christina smiled at her brightly. "Great! I just need to ...uh, freshen up a moment." Taking the hint, Diana gathered up her things and stepped outside, awkwardly holding her bag of of work clothes to give to Felipe down in the hotel lobby. Franklin was standing by a sideboard, boredly rifling through a magazine.

"Mrs Galindo." He acknowledged. For a split second, he looked like he wanted to add something, but caught himself. Diana followed his gaze towards the closed bathroom door, behind which low noises of shuffling and splashing water could be heard.

"How long have you two been married?" She had no idea how this information might help the investigation, but determined that wasn't for her to worry about. Franklin sighed, gaze still fixed on the door and absent.

"Seven years now." He finally tore his eyes away from the door and let them flit over her briefly, catching on the borrowed jewels but electing not to comment on it. "They say the seventh year is the hardest, don't they?"

"I wouldn't know. I never made it that far." Though if Juan Mateo didn't pull his head out of his ass soon she would spend the seventh year still technically married. The thought made her frown.

Before either of them had to search for more overburdened smalltalk, the bathroom door blessedly clicked open and Christina emerged with a wide grin and a spring to her step, her eyes just a smidgeon glassy and too bright. Diana politely pretended not to see the remnants of fine white powder that Franklin surreptitiously wiped from her nose and upper lip. --- They arrived not exactly on time but not fashionably late either. There's a line of cars already plugging up the driveway to the sprawling estate, stringed lights illuminating against the darkening sky. They got out and sauntered towards the two-storey villa, the Jurados up front and Diana trailing behind like the kid that's finally allowed to come along to the fancy family outings. Her dress hadn't felt this tight in the store, or at any point afterwards, until just now.

"Franklin! I'm so glad you're finally here! Mrs Jurado, it's a pleasure." Diana can only just contain the flinch at the sound of this voice, and before long Miguel Rodríguez turns to her with one of his bright, self-satisfied smiles. "Mrs Galindo, I'm so glad you could come. We need to introduce you to the rest of the guys! It's been too long!"

He has his arm around her shoulders within the same breath, exuberant and steering her through the scattered throngs of people at a pace that doesn't even allow for snatching a champagne flute from one of the waiters floating around. She plastered on a fake demure smile. The 'invitation' hadn't exactly been a matter of mere suggestion.

Miguel led them to a dainty pagoda that sat a comfortable distance from the pool and most of the din and chatter of the other guests, nestled between the luscious greenery of the large garden. Diana could hear the mumbled whispers of the Jurados behind her, Miguel's droning on of meaningless small talk that she barely paid attention to. She could see Gilberto's back, his stature dwarfed almost comically by that of a much larger and broader man sat to his side, with short silver hair that gleamed in the low light.

"Gentlemen, I believe we are complete!" Miguel boomed, ushering her up the few steps and into the circle.

"Mrs Galindo, what a pleasure!" Gilberto shot up and made a show of shaking her hand and pulling her close to present her to the rest of the ...associates.

"Now I believe you've not yet met these fine gentlemen. Pacho Herrera, Diana Galindo." Pacho stood and took her hand gingerly, his face impassive and tone painstakingly polite and neutral. "My pleasure."

"Mr Herrera." Diana replied, heart thumping up into her throat. They'd not so much met as passed each other in front of offices or meeting rooms a handful of times, his tightly coiled, jaguar-like energy always seeming just a smidge out of place in those blandly corporate spaces.

"And here's Chepe, came all the way down from New York especially!" The large man with the silver hair stood to his full impressive height, snatching her hand with a wolfish grin and dropping a just-too-moist kiss on the back of it with a wink. Diana did her utmost not to flinch. For just a moment, she regretted the moment she'd taken off her ring and put it in front of a shocked Juan Mateo on their kitchen table before leaving their shared apartment. It was moments like these that she missed the protection it had afforded her from some unwanted advances.

Pallomari was last, balding and skittish, with huge owl-eye glasses not unlike the first pair she'd ever had.

"Mrs Galindo, how interesting to finally put a face to the name." He greeted, sounding painfully rehearsed. Diana returned with some meaningless pleasantry, hyper-aware of the wiretap device against her skin. She wondered whether it even picked up anything apart from the thundering of her heart.

"So, about your big announcement-" Miguel began once everyone was settled into a seat with a drink in hand. Gilberto cut him off almost immediately.

"Now, now brother, let's enjoy the party a bit beforehand." A look passed between them, a challenge issued and accepted, until Miguel turned his gaze away with a barely concealed snarl. Gilberto leaned back in his seat, glass raised with a smug and triumphant smirk. "Let's just say that I have made an important investment into our future. We will continue to thrive, but more importantly, we will be safe. Our families will be safe."

With that cryptic remark, he threw back his drink, expression melting from jovial to grim. The ensuing silence made the hair on the back of Diana's neck stand up, a feat she wouldn't have thought possible with the amount of hairspray Christina had encased her head in.

"He's dead, Pablo's dead." Miguel reached over where she was squished between the two men, squeezing his brother's arm in reassurance. "He's gone and we helped bring him down."

"We did. This country should build us monuments, instead they issue arrest warrants!" Gilberto bit out, pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

"To Pablo Escobar, may he forever rot in hell!" Chepe bellowed, glass raised high. They all joined in. Diana thought of her father. How he'd done her hair and walked her to school every morning and tucked her in with a new story every night when she was a girl. How, during her first year of university when she'd been so lonely and homesick she broke down crying, he'd taken precious time off work and taken a night bus to come visit her in Bogotá for a weekend. How her heart still split down the middle whenever she so much as thought of the crash that killed him. But the gentlemen didn't need to know that she despised them just as much as she did Escobar, not yet anyway. So, she raised her champagne alongside and joined her voice in the chorus of gleeful condemnation. - She'd just escaped Christina and the gaggle of wives for a moment, excusing herself to the restrooms. What the DEA might glean from their inane chatter, she couldn't possibly fathom. She was glad that she was free of them for a moment, and that disecting the recording wasn't her problem to deal with. On her way into the house, she must have passed by at least two dozen important and powerful people. There were a few handfuls of representatives, a number of mayors, at least two senators, an attorney general and an army general. No one she'd ever voted for, at least. And those were just the ones she'd managed to get Miguel to introduce to her, or her to them - either way, she'd made sure to repeat every name as clearly as possible for the recording.

Rounding the last corner in from the veranda, she all but ran into Salcedo.

"Mrs Galindo." His tone was clipped as ever. She wasn't sure whether he might be suspicious of her in particular, or whether it was a general thing and he was just like that.

"Mr Salcedo." She nodded, tone painstakingly polite. He set her teeth on edge, always so stiff-backed with that serpent edge to him; in a ranking of people within the cartel who had this effect on her he would probably come in about third. She wondered what Javier- what Agent Peña would make of the man. "What brings you here, Mrs Galindo?" Or perhaps he just didn't like her for some reason. Which was very much a mutual sentiment. Not that she held particular sympathies for anyone here.

"To the restroom?" *Take a wild guess, buddy*, she thought, one eyebrow arching with clear condescension.

"To the...house."

"The restroom." She resisted rolling her eyes. As much as she may personally dislike Miguel's chief of security, purposely antagonizing him was probably a bad idea. And yet, petty temptation beckoned in every nook and cranny. Like the sideboard they were currently standing in front of that displayed a solid bronze statue of a very rotund dancing couple. "To marvel at the Botero, naturally."

Salcedo's eyes followed her nod towards the heavy bronze. "It's genuine, you know." He said it not in the tone of an art aficionado, but rather in the crudely suggestive one of a third-rate telenovela detective trying to be slick by not outright asking if she meant to steal it.

"Of course, Mr Rodríguez wouldn't stand for anything less." The thing was half her size and probably twice as heavy, what was he thinking? Himself a master at subtle insinuation, probably. Or that being poor and growing up in the comunas naturally meant she had sticky fingers. Uptight, hoity-toity middle class prick. Like his employers weren't internationally wanted criminals of the highest degree. The audacity of it!

His mouth was already halfway open to retort when his name being yelled from outside made both of them turn. David Rodríguez hung onto the veranda door, snapping at Salcedo that his father wanted him for something, and pronto. Diana could practically hear his teeth grind in irritation, but he schooled his face into a carefully blank facade before he gave David a nod.

"Ma'am." Salcedo gave in and moved, squeezing by David. David purposefully did not budge, instead giving her a leery once-over before following after the other man.

Diana fled into the bathroom down the hall in a manner she hoped looked urgent rather than as panicked as she felt inside. She held it together until the lock slid closed, and then she was crouched on the floor, curled up and heavy breathing into her hands. The small pressure point of the wire recorder thingy felt like a ton weight against her chest and her heart was beating so fast she could feel it everywhere.

Hyperventilating. You're hyperventilating, her brain supplied unhelpfully, and she almost laughed at herself. She wished she wasn't here all on her own, wished she had at least one of those spy devices in her ear for some moral support, tried to recall the exact feeling of Agent Peña's hands on her shoulders, warm and grounding. One hand remained up, muffling the desperate breaths and whimpers from her mouth, while the other dropped, thumb dipping underneath the fabric at her chest to brush soothingly across her collarbone. It worked...to a degree. A very small degree. What she would give to at least have the deep, comforting rumble of his voice, or the way he'd held her close after the festival. Did he even know how calming his presence was? It always seemed to work on her, in wrath and anxiety both (something that Juan Mateo had never been able to affect unless it was to irritate her more). So much so that now even just focusing on it was enough to help her pull herself together.

The guest restroom was bigger than her childhood room had been and, of course, looked more like it belonged in some fancy hotel. All warm-toned marble and matte gold appliances. The mirror was huge and its frame, naturally, also gold. What was it with rich people's obsession with gold?

"Okay." Diana said to her reflection, then went to work freshening up. Carefully, she wiped away the smudged mascara under her eyes and reapplied her lipstick where it had come off on her drink earlier. She stuck her hands underneath her dress to check on the recording device, concerned that a wire had shaken loose or something, but the small rectangular container still sat right snug right against her sternum. She gave it an absent tap and adjusted the microphone bit so it sat just below the seam of her collar again.

"I hope you'll get something worthwhile from this because I am never doing this again." A knock on the door nearly sent her into cardiac arrest. Diana swore under her breath, then called out that she'd only be a moment.

"Sorry," an apologetic female voice came from the other side of the door, "You've been in there a while, is all. Are you alright? I have an aspirin in my purse if you need it."

Diana stopped dabbing at her still damp eyes and tried to determine whether her near panic attack was the sole reason her vision was still a bit hazy. She could count the times she'd been out without her glasses on one hand.

"Oh no it's just-," she crossed over and unlocked the door to find a young, very pretty and very concerned looking woman on the other side, "I just had some trouble with my contact lenses. They're awfully fiddly." She stepped back and opened the door wider. "All yours."

"Oh I don't-" She looked down the hallway, further into the house, her eyes widening slightly when she caught sight of something or someone outside of Diana's field of vision. "Actually, I think I need to...uh, powder my nose or something."

The door fell into its lock the same moment the younger woman had stepped into the room, not giving Diana a chance to leave. Not that she was over-eager to get back outside and mingle with the corrupt and criminal. That and the discomfort and anxiety hung around the other woman like a cloud. Diana made up her mind, sitting down on one of the plush benches in the room.

"I'm not a big fan of parties either." She stated, voice careful and soft. The other woman stood, unsure and tugging at the short hem of her dress.

"I wish they could just open the buffet already. My husband is three drinks in and he gets-" She trembled. No, shuddered. Diana patted the space beside her on the bench, a gentle invitation.

"It's alright, we can stay here for a little bit. I'm Diana."

"Maria." She stuck out her hand, which was also still trembling slightly. "Maria Salazar." --- By the time the two of them dared venture outside again, there was indeed, finally!, food to be had. Diana pulled Maria along to the relative safety of the gaggle of wives, busy amusing themselves while their husbands dealt with their important business matters. But then, the bandleader announced that the dancefloor was now officially open and started off with a spirited selection of the finest Colombian rhythms of the past twenty years. One by one the wives were collected to fill said dancefloor, leaving Diana sitting alone at the table with the sad remnants of various canapees and salads. Here was another occasion where she didn't miss Juan Mateo. Or his two left feet. Idly, she turned the near-empty cocktail glass between her fingers and wondered whether Javier danced, or could at least be persuaded to try.

"You don't dance?" David appeared so suddenly that she almost spilled the last bit of her drink. She remembered his leering earlier, forced her face not to flinch until she had raised the glass and could hide her expression of distaste behind a sip of the overly sweet and fruity cocktail. Hummed non-committally and hoping against hope that he'd grow bored and leave. Of course, she had no such luck.

"Oh, whom with? Everyone's paired up already." Sip again. The glass had another three or four in it, if she stretched it smartly enough. "I'm afraid third-wheeling is the unenviable fate of divorcees." How old was this boy anyway? She must have ten years on him, at the very least. But apparently he'd got it into his head that he must prove to himself what a man he was, and how irresistible. At least he had the good sense not to try anything with the wives of any of the powerful men present.

"Dance with me." David stated. Ah, bingo. He might have at least pretended to ask, she thought sourly. "I insist."

Of course you do, you entitled brat. "It would be my pleasure." She lies, as most politeness is lies, here in these circles comprised of snakes. Fakes a smile the way she's been taught to by this world, so easy to act and conceal the disdain underneath. It doesn't falter even when his hand, clammy and slightly sweaty, settles way too low for comfort or propriety on her hip. She resolves to step on his feet - accidentally - at least twice.

David Rodríguez was not what one would call a skilled dancer. At first, Diana had been thankful that the band wasn't playing any slow songs yet, but it had taken approximately half of 'Bamboleo' to dispel the hope that this would keep David's hands from wandering. Well, if she was stuck here she might as well try to get some intel out of him.

...It takes about two and a half songs - the band now switching to their international collection - to determine that this route of inquiry is absolutely doomed and David completely useless. Doesn't know any business particulars, and doesn't care to. Too distracted with trying to put some moves on her, which she steadfastly ignores. Well, if details of her failed marriage and dragging divorce aren't enough to discourage him, she's got another one up her sleeve. Not to mention she's been curious ever since the gaggle of wives had made their introductions earlier.

"You're not married." She leaves the 'yet' unsaid, hanging in the air between them as heavy insinuation.

"If I were, would I be dancing with you?" A faithful husband, and in these circles at that? What a novel idea. Diana almost snorted out loud. Left it at a telling look that seemed to go over his head completely. Doesn't have the energy to dissect how a dance with a friend or acquaintance at a party isn't exactly on par with, say, the juridical definition of adultery. Which brings her mind back to the tedium of having to explain to various lawyers, notaries, judges that no, her husband wasn't a cheating pig who drank and beat her, and that there were a multitude of quieter reasons why marriages failed.

"I have been wondering, though, where the third of the Mrs Rodríguezes belongs. Besides your mother and your aunt." She nodded over at the three women in question, one dancing with either Rodríguez brother, the third being currently twirled about by Chepe and looking a bit motion sick from it.

"My mother is dead." Ah, shit. Diana faltered, and this time the graze of her heel on his shoe really was entirely accidental. Something in David's eyes shuttered and hardened, gaze for once lifting from her body and darkly fixing on his father. "They're all my uncle's wives."

"Oh. Oh!" Diana's mouth falls open. Of all things she could have expected, this was certainly not one. "That's um... That sounds, uh..." Illegal, but then again, what did a bit of consensual polygamy matter in the grand scheme of things, she supposed.

"You sound so scandalized. Didn't think he had it in him, didn't you?" David smirked, tightening his grip on her back again and leading her in a turn.

"No, I'm just...wondering...about the, um...time management...aspect." In fairness, that was one of the things she did wonder about. David laughed, bringing her in closer.

"Each gets two days per week and Sundays he has them come all together and sit there while he watches sports."

How thrilling. "Whatever works for them, I suppose."

Diana tried to subtly twist away again. She wasn't going to get anything else from this, what with David already being bored and growing increasingly impatient. And she didn't have an escape plan that didn't consist of ramming her heel into him somewhere until she struck bone.

"Damn, can't they play something from this decade?" He whined as 'Money, money, money' faded into 'Knowing me, knowing you'. "All of this ancient stuff-" Sensing another chance to subtly nudge him away from his inexplicable sudden attraction, Diana jumped. "Oh I quite like it," she remarked lightly. Now go in for the kill "Reminds me of my youth."

David harrumphed, then grunted as her heel dug into his toes again. "Oh dear, so sorry." Diana said breezily, forcing his hand up from where it had been creeping towards her ass with a deft twirl.

"It's fine." He gritted. "Did you want to-"

"Allow me to cut in." Herrera stepped up, lightly shoving David aside to take his place. "I've not had the pleasure yet, Mrs Galindo." Diana forced a smile as his hand settled at her waist. Pro: at least this one wouldn't spend the whole time trying to feel her up. Con: not being thus distracted, he might notice...something. And become suspicious. If he wasn't already. Truth be told, Herrera scared her almost as much as Navegante did. Sometimes more so.

"Right, well this is a very tight dress, so I can't do any adventurous moves." She warned, plastering an apologetic expression onto her face. Thankfully the band had changed to a faster track, though they kept with the international flair of the selection. Next up was some Brazil, if she wasn't mistaken. David stood between the twirling couples for a long moment, glaring but not daring to do or say anything that might affront his father's business partner. She shot him a fake apologetic smile, but suspected it was more the insistent raised eyebrow from Herrera that ultimately got him to scurry.

Pacho Herrera could dance, that much was undeniable. Under different circumstances she might have even enjoyed this. He was also unnervingly quiet. If the purpose of this was to unsettle her, his tactic was very successful. At this rate, just keeping her feet under her proved to be challenge enough. One could think the band had launched into a Tarantella, given the speed they were going. Her head swam from the quick succession of turns and twirls, and when he dipped her upon the song's grand climax, her heart stopped for a variety of reasons. One of them being that she thought she felt some of her concealed wiring dislodge.

"I think your dress is not too tight after all, Mrs Galindo." He pulled back up and righted her again, blessedly stilling a moment while the band segued into a mellower number. Diana gulped in a few deep, unladylike breaths.

"No trust me, it is." She was still catching her breath; meanwhile he didn't even have a single hair out of place. Unfair. "So," Diana began her feeble attempt to bring the situation back under some semblance of control, "Are you interested in... tax exemptions?" Apparently humans could wheeze and cringe simultaneously. Very interesting. Herrera didn't answer immediately, just started leading her back into a mellow sway.

"I think you're interested enough for all of us, Mrs Galindo. Miguel showed us the figures earlier. Very impressive. I see why DIAN recruited you right out of university." How he made what was ostensibly a compliment sound like a threat, Diana didn't know, just that it did nothing for her heart rate.

"Thank you." He spun her out along with a flourish from the brass section, turning her already shaky voice into a squeak. She really hoped the recording had not picked that up. After the spin, his hand slid up over her back, before settling back on her waist. To her horror, something in Pacho's expression twisted and he pulled her closer, hand splaying over her mid-back again. So much for avoiding being fondled for one dance.

"What's this?"

"Oh, I don't want to bore you with the details of women's undergarments. Suffice to say I'm wearing an insane amount of Spanx right now."

There was a prolonged moment, during which Diana tried to keep her cool while deciding how much of a scene she was willing to cause should he not let it rest. Normally none at all, then again it was her life on the line.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Rodríguez requests you make your way to the equestrian ring for the big announcement."

Never in her life had Diana welcomed an interruption like at this very moment. Herrera hesitated for a split second, expression still unreadable, before joining the throngs of people set in motion. He grasped her hand firmly, looping it through his elbow until it rested on his forearm, where he pinned it with his other hand. Just unconspicuous enough to look polite to any onlooker, just forceful enough that she knew she couldn't free herself without obvious struggle.

"He could have done this up on the other stage." Miguel grumbled when they reached him, standing off the side to the stage that had been set up in the area.

"You know how he is, Miguel. Always has to have his way." The two men exchanged a glance around her while more people filed past.

"Mrs Galindo."

Diana hummed in acknowledgement, returned the meaningless pleasantries. Yes of course she was enjoying herself. What a lovely party. The music? Exhilarating. The buffet? Exquisite. Her divorce? Ugh. She would really prefer not to think about that right now, thank you very much.

"It's next Thursday, right? Your court appointment?"

"Yes, thank you for letting me combine this with a work trip to Barranquilla. It's my personal business after all."

"Of course, we want you at your best. Undistracted. Unburdened." Diana almost laughed, barely managed to suppress the snort and cover it with clearing her throat.

"I thought that had all gone through ages ago." Herrera remarked lightly, grip finally easing up some from her wrist. Diana sighed.

"I'm divorced, as far as I'm concerned. I moved out, signed my papers. I don't know what he thinks he's doing. I'm not going back to him. This obstinate little tantrum isn't helping his case anyway." Countless hours spent arguing with various legal professionals flashed before her eyes. "It's a very tedious process."

"It's a very catholic country." Pacho said, somewhere between wistful and embittered. She used his momentary distraction to pull her arm free.

"That's true."

Up on the stage, Gilberto was fiddling with a microphone and waiting for the last few stragglers to come and fill up the equestrian ring so he could begin. Again, the two men exhanged a telling glance around her.

"You gonna go up there with him?" Pacho said lowly, hands now crossing behind his back. Miguel shook his head.

"You go. I'll stay here. Better view."

Diana stayed demonstratively rooted to the spot when Herrera started moving. He shot her a look, which she pretended not to notice in favor of striking up more mindless small talk with Miguel. Apparently Herrera decided that it wasn't worth making a big deal out of, choosing instead to let her be and weave through the audience until he reached the bottom of the stage, exchanging a greeting with Santacruz and glowering over the assembled crooks and accomplices.

Gilberto's speech was... full of pathos and grandstanding, and too many high-minded terms for such a petty crook, she thought. When did the delusions or grandeur usually start appearing, she wondered. Was it with the first million? The first billion? But it's the core of the announcement that makes her gasp and sets the wheels in her mind into overdrive, the implications just mounting up. She spares a quick glance at Herrera at the foot of the stage, his face too demonstratively blank save for furrowed brows. Miguel beside her is more expressive, but quick to reign his face back in. Among the surprised gasps and whispers all around it tells her enough. Briefly, she thought of making a comment to Miguel, but his jaw is set so tight she can hear the grinding of teeth and she doesn't have anything productive or intelligent to say anyway, so she lets it be. Swallows the bile that rises up in her throat as Gilberto proclaims 'For our children! And for our children's children!', and tries not to roll her eyes. Or gouge his out, for the sheer gall of it. Because here she stands, approaching thirty-five and still deathly afraid to bring a baby into a world they have made so violent, so toxic, so dangerous. Meanwhile Salome is without her parents, both murdered by this unending war. Meanwhile a David Rodríguez flounces around as some sort of better henchman, he and his cousins all cushy and carefree thanks to daddy's blood money. It churns the stomach with rage.

"Mrs Galindo! Just the woman I've been looking for!"

The crowd parts for him, less so out of reverence and more because people are slowly drifting away, gossip already flying about, Diana is pleased to note.

"Mr Rodríguez, what an...impactful speech." She said demurely, keeping all her sneering tucked safely away behind the mask of officiousness.

"It's the coup of the century!" She catches Miguel's scoff just in the corner of her eye. "It also means transferring our assets into the...ah, ...legitimate sphere, if you will." He's got his arm around her shoulders again, leading her back towards the dancefloor, the buffet and tables, the house. By chance and his smaller stature, he's speaking almost directly into the shoulder with the hidden microphone attached, detailing all the financial acrobatics he wants her to perform to save all their assets from both law- and taxman. There she went again, trading complicity for access. --- Just over an hour on and the gender ratio has left Diana sitting squished between Herrera and the youngest of the Mrs Rodríguezes, but at least he seems to have taken his measure of her. And swallowed her undergarment excuse. Swallowed...undergarments. She snorted semi-loudly into the cocktail she'd been nursing this whole time, the ice in it all but dissolved. Dammit, here eyes were getting heavier by the minute and it wasn't even that late, barely midnight. Then again she had been up since five and alcohol, even though she hadn't had all that much, always made her sleepy. And the guests had started trickling away, leaving behind a scene of mild devastation.

"I think Mrs Galindo needs to go home." It was Franklin Jurado speaking, Christina's head buffered on his shoulder as she slept. Diana had just enough self-control left to not tell him to fuck off. Or maybe she really is too tired to; doesn't even have it in her to get annoyed at Gilberto's patronizing tone as he agrees.

"Yes, why don't you drive Mrs Galindo home?"

She hums more in acknowledgement than agreement to Hererra's suggestion, tired eyes hazily following his line of sight to the man stepping forward from the shadows at being summoned. His gaudy shirt reminds her of one Juan Mateo had worn on their honeymoon and which she had hated half because it had been a gift from her horrible mother-in-law, and half because it was the most hideous thing she had ever seen. And then realization hits and her blood runs ice-cold and alertness slams back into her consciousness like a bullet.

"Mr Velasquez." her voice is so weak and brittle, she thinks it must give her away if nothing else did so far. She took one last sip to wet her dry mouth, and because frankly she needs the alcohol now more than ever. The suggestion to call a taxi died on her lips as she realized that there was truly no way out of this. So, she steels herself and stands on sore feet, bidding the bosses of Calí and their dependents a good night. "I would be much obliged, Mr Velasquez."

Navegante approximated a smile and stalked ahead. --- Well, there goes his progress. He'd been down to three smokes a day, four on a bad day, due in part to an iron adherence to some hard and fast self-imposed rules, such as no smoking in his office (or, in fact, no smoking inside the building at all). Tonight, however, is the night of the Calí godfathers' big announcement party, and Javier had not moved from his office for longer than a quick bathroom break or coffee run. He had also gone through half a pack of cigarettes in the last two hours, and his stomach was beginning to feel queasy the longer he spent glancing at the phone on the edge of his desk from the corner of his eye as he pretended to make his way through the mountain of paperwork that somehow never seemed to get any smaller. The fact that he'd woken that morning with the memory of Diana Turbay's lifeless body crumpled in that cupboard certainly hadn't helped.

He last looked at a clock around half past nine, when a very insistent cleaning lady had shooed him out of his office and he'd spent around ten anxious minutes hovering by the door in case the phone rang. It hadn't, and now here he was, eyes burning and brain mushy with his heartbeat a steady pulsing behind his temples. And he wondered–

Javier swiped up the phone before the first ring had even finished. "Miss Rivas!"

"I'm fine." She didn't sound fine. She sounded on edge. Rattled. Like she was trying to reassure herself. He gripped the phone receiver tighter.

"Where are you?" What was he gonna do? Drive all the way to Calí from Bogotá at half an hour past midnight? Even a flight would take hours, and raise suspisions to boot.

"I said I'm fine," she replied, nails clacking rhythmically against the plastic phone casing in what he knew by now to be a nervous tick. "I'm safe. I'm home."

Javier breathed a relieved sigh, rigid shoulders slumping a fraction. He supposed he could have ordered Duffy or Lopez to do something if push had come to shove, though what he honestly had no idea.

"Good, that's good."

"Mr Velasquez gave me a lift."

Who the hell was that? "Who the hell is that?" Javier asked.

"You probably know him as Navegante." Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Mentally he's already halfway out the door, physically at least halfway out of the office until the phone wire makes known its spatial limitations.

"You alright? Is he still there? Lock your door, double lock it, I-"

"I didn't give him the exact address, please calm down." He does, but only enough to catch his breath and not bolt out the door. There's a rustling from her end of the line, and she makes a sort of breathless little sound, somehwere between a sigh and a grunt, followed by a low but vicious curse.

"You okay?"

"It's the damn zipper again; I'm this close to pulling something. Hang on." Judging by the thud that reverberates she set the phone down on a counter or table. Javier's hand went to rub at the back of his neck, half reflex, half sympathy. "Let's focus on the real issue here. The announcement."

The way she said it was urgent, but he chose to believe this was due to wanting to get the message out and not to any concerns of Navegante lurking nearby. He had to, for his own sanity.

"Apparently Gilberto cut a deal with the government."

"The government?" Javier echoed weakly.

"The new Samper administration. I knew why I didn't vote for those clowns. No, that's ...I had many reasons for that actually, first and foremost of them being that the Liberal Party nowadays is a damn joke. And to think that this is the same party that my parents fought for in their youth! Anyway, enough of that. They get half a year to get their house in order, then turn themselves in on the smallest possible charges, minimal jail time, back out again after a few years and back into their cushy lives with all of their blood money laundered neatly away. A clean slate." He'd never heard her sound so bitter, and he'd heard a good deal of her opinions on the Gentlemen of Calí over the past year.

"So they're just going to get away with it." Javier grit out, equally livid. "Wait, you said Gilberto cut the deal? What about the others?"

"Yes, so here is where it gets interesting. I didn't get the sense that they knew. Beforehand I mean. You should have outfitted me with a camera too, because Miguel's face was priceless." Another grunt and then a triumphant little 'ha' and then her voice sounded clearer again, nearer as she picked the phone back up.

"He doesn't like it."

"None of them like it. Don't want to give up the power, if I had to guess. What is it with men and building their entire ego on how much they can make others fear them?"

Javier hummed non-committally, deciding that he had nothing valuable to add at this point.

"Yeah, you're right. So how do I get the 'ooof' ...the recording to you? Usual way?" Javier didn't even get to reply no when she went on, now audibly shuffling around her apartment and out of the rest of her clothes. "I can't believe I almost forgot! I met the money launderer. His name is Franklin Jurado. He'll be in Calí until Tuesday with his wife Christina. I somewhat promised her to meet for coffee on Sunday; if you can have one of your agents trail me you can get them."

She sounded so hopeful that he hated to have to dash it, even for her own safety, but snatching such an important cartel member so soon and with her so close would cast suspicion. She couldn't be involved. And he hadn't heard back from his agents yet, which was possibly a bad sign. Javier made up his mind, cringing while he glanced at the clock to make some mental calculations.

"I'm coming over."

"To Calí?"

"Yes, what's your address? Unless you'd rather meet somewhere else?"

She gave her address, sounding stunned. He jotted it down under the note he'd made of Jurado's name; he'd need someone to look the guy up first thing tomorrow.

"You're not leaving now, are you? It's late, you need to sleep." Javier could picture the way her brow creased in a frown just from the tone of her voice.

"No, I'll call you again as soon as I know when I'll be there." Driving the whole way would be a nightmare and eat up most of the day. Javier whirled around and pulled an atlas from the shelf behind his desk. Flying in directly was out of the question with the way the godfathers had the whole city under surveillance. Buenaventura, under two hours by plane and then about two and a half from there to Calí. Yes, that would work.

"Goodness, you're actually serious about this."

"Of course." Javier stopped in his tracks for the first time in several minutes now, taking a moment to breathe and slump in his seat. He was exhausted yet wide awake, and likely would be for some time. "I mean, if that's okay with you."

"Of course, umm...anything in particular you'd like for dinner?" Javier stopped. He would be staying for dinner, possibly the night, too. In a hotel of course, he couldn't possibly impose-

"You don't have to cook for me." His mouth said, but his stomach said bandeja paisa. Briefly, the thought of taking her out for dinner popped up, indulgent and unbidden, and was immediately squashed by the thought of the godfathers' eyes everywhere. "I can pick something up on the way."

Her protest turned into a yawn not two syllables in. Javier couldn't help the small smile appearing on his face, felt it only by how it twinged his tense jaw. "You're tired, you should rest."

"We're not finished with this." She mumbled obstinately. "You rest."

"I will." He would, eventually. "I'll call you tomor- ...today." A quick glance at the clock revealed it was now past midnight. She made a very grumpy, very adorable huffy sound, mumbling something about the inexorable passage of time.

"Sleep well, Miss Rivas."

"You too..." There was a rustle and the quiet squeak and groan of a bedframe and mattress. He waited a moment, unsure whether more was coming or whether she'd just been too tired to disconnect the call. A short silence burst into a quick curse, her voice remote but still clear enough to make out. "...God fucking dammit, fucking contact lenses! Son of a rabid-"

"Miss Rivas?" By the rapid padding of feet and the continued cursing he had to suppose that she hadn't heard, and by how either sound seemed to be at about equal distance with neither decreasing, he supposed further that the phone was still in her hand. As soon as he heard the 'thunk' that most likely meant that the phone had been tossed down on some surface, he tried again. "Miss Rivas?"

"You're still there?" She sounded marginally more awake now, but not like this state would persist for very long.

"You didn't hang up." And perhaps Javier wasn't all too opposed to having the continued assurance that she was alright and her cover intact. "You swear very entertainingly, by the way."

"I'm glad my lack of filter and ladylike decorum amuses rather than appalls you." Splashing water interrupted them for a moment, but was quickly replaced by more colorful cursing.

"Please, don't hold back." Javier commented drily, not really expecting to be heard clearly since the satphone didn't have a loudspeaker.

"Very funny. Why don't you talk to me a bit more while I try not to poke my eyes out by accident-"

"I- ...I'm afraid I don't really have anything interesting to talk about."

"And I don't have enough brain left today for anything more taxing than the weather anyway. I just need your voice; I'm dead on my feet. How was the weather in Bogotá today? I always found it so cold when I was at university there. Nothing like Medellín. They used to call me 'chompa' at uni because I would never go anywhere without one. Too cold. And of course Calí is so much warmer than either..."

"It's been quite grey here, and not especially warm either. Back home it's at least twice as warm but I've been here so long now I think I'm more used to it."

"I never asked where exactly you're from..."

"Laredo, Texas. It's right on the border with Mexico."

"Laredo..." She mused, puttering about still. "Oh like the song? As I walked walked out on the streets of Laredo..." She must really be tired and devoid of all usual inhibitions, Javier thought, to just start singing like this. Not that he minded. She got halfway through the first stanza until she faltered, the lyrics escaping her. Her voice was soft and with that same raspy edge she had when speaking. It was a voice suited best to lullabies he thought; or to yearnful ballads performed in smoky bars, or some similarly wistful thing. "Aren't I supposed to be the one talking?"

"Hmm, this works too. I'm almost done, so you won't have to humor me much longer. So, tell me more about Laredo while I brush my teeth." --- He ended up talking longer than that - divulging more than he ever planned to as per usual, of the town and the ranch that sat up against the river - until she was settled back into bed and about to doze off for good. If nothing else, it settled him too somewhat, though sleep would elude him for a a good while yet even despite the physical and mental exhaustion the day, or in fact the whole week, had brought him. No sooner had he disconnected the line with a soft 'Sleep well' than the phone rang again.

"Yes?"

"Boss, I've been trying to reach you for half an hour!" Duffy's voice sounded strained and any modicum of relaxation Javier might have gained dissipated with immediate effect. He scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and resigned himself to dealing with one more catastrophe.

"Duffy, what is it?" Agents Duffy and Lopez had organized their own infiltration of the godfathers' party, courtesy of the intel provided by Miss Rivas as well as what Operation Cornerstone had shaken loose. At least he knew it was nothing that had blown the cover of his informant.

"Okay well, no use beating around the bush here. Our guy got made, and Calí knows we're here-" Javier listened to his agent's report with his frown deepening. Why was it that with every step forward, another wrench was thrown his way?

"Alright, close up shop. Leave as soon and as inconspicuously as you can. I'll see you back here at the embassy on Monday morning." He ordered. Hopefully the gentlemen and their security would leave it at the gesture of intimidation, especially if they thought themselves well on the way of becoming untouchable, but one could never be too careful.

---

Javier consulted the clock for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. Normally the bar down the street from the embassy wouldn't be his first or even fourth choice, but tonight he was looking for a place to wind down with the shortest possible distance to cover afterwards. The danger of being accosted by any of his co-workers was one he'd simply have to brave. If luck was on his side for once, none of the more sociably inclined would be there any more, or too engrossed in their own merriment to notice him slink in, and if not, his curmudgeonly ways were known well enough that a civil yet decisive refusal would hopefully be deterrence enough.

It was for Stoddard, but of course not for Bill Stechner, the non-drug-lord bane of Javier's existence. Ostensibly on the same side, though Javier would argue that the CIA was on its own side entirely. Or that their budget would be spent more productively by making the damn lot of them just feed dollar bills through a shredder, but no one asked Javier about these things. So, he sits and grinds his teeth while Stechner's smug voice grates on his nerves. Visualizes strangling the CIA station shief with the tie he'd just pulled off and balled up into his pocket moments ago, which does a little bit to alleviate the almost overbearing urge to smash Stechner's face into the bar top. "Oh come on, you don't care about American streets or dead Colombians."

And the deal? How the hell does Stechner know about the deal when it's only just been announced? For a split-second, he wonders whether Diana- but no, he trusts her completely, and he hasn't told anyone except a handful of his agents about her, deciding this information was so sensitive it was strictly need to know, and even they only knew her by her assigned code name. Not even the ambassador knew that he had such a high-priority informant on the inside of the cartel. Stechner must have some government source, be it an informant of his own or bugs in the offices of ministers. The way he only mentions Lopez and Duffy's operation confirms it.

"Same goal my ass." Javier muttered into his whiskey after Stechner slithered away. This had been supposed to be a one-drink-night, but now he was feeling like he might need at least three more, if only to dull the screeching of his swirling thoughts.

It's no use. He's all keyed up still, something feels like it's burrowing inside of his chest, some sort of woodland critter both desperate and unable to settle down. He's tired, too, of course, eyes heavy and burning and sore, feels like his eyeballs are coated in smoke and pitched open by caffeine. He shouldn't have had that much coffee that late; despite his high tolerance it does still have an effect on him. Thank goodness on any given day, but right now he's regretting it. His leg jumps, knee knocking painfully against the bar front. He feels eyes on him. They've been there since he walked in, furtively glancing throughout his confrontation with Stechner, but bolder now. He feels it like a prickle on his skin. Turns his gaze finally. Sees long dark hair, open, melting into the late shadows of the bar. Too long, but it'll have to do. She's... he's definitely seen her around before. The elevator? Different department, perhaps press office, or visas. Definitely nowhere near the DEA offices or he would have known her name. She's coming over now, leaning easily against the bartop, slender fingers tapping, and an easy, eager smile. Her hair isn't dark enough, and too long and wavy all the way through instead of only curling at the ends, and nothing else about her appearance quite matches up, but she's pretty and willing and he's pent up and about to crawl out of his skin. And so he lets her take him home. And he means to leave right after, he really does. If only not to give any impression of this having even the slightest potential of becoming any more than it is. But Katie (that's her name, but he's learnt a long time ago to not groan out names during, because whether the name is correct or not it always turns out bad somehow), Katie sleepily mumbles that he can stay because it's late, and truth be told? He's completely shot, feels like he couldn't move if he wanted to. And the thought of dragging himself back to his empty apartment with only his thoughts for company is the most unbearable thing at this moment. Her mattress is too soft and despite the fact that he only laid on it until waking again at first light, it messes up his back for almost a week. --- It is indeed much warmer in this side of the country, and an especially hot day in Calí itself. On the coast where he'd landed, there had at least been a breeze blowing in from the Pacific, but the further inland Javier drives the less the air seems to move. He felt the sweat start to gather at his hairline, and down his neck, as soon as he parked the rental car in front of the cluster of new-ish high rise apartment blocks in one of the north-western boroughs of the city.

Javier grabbed his one piece of luggage and the bag of takeout he'd picked up on the way, just as promised, and walked up to the first building to study the panel beside the door for the correct bell to ring. A sharp whistle made him look around, then up at the next building. Miss Rivas was all but hanging off the side of her balcony, waving down and giving Javier half a heart attack seeing as she was on the sixth floor. He waved back in acknowledgement, then jogged over to the already buzzing door, which he pushed open. Blessedly, there was an elevator, and not two minutes later he stood in front of her apartment, the door swinging open before he could raise his hand to knock.

"Hi." She sounded breathless, as if she'd run up six flights of stairs, not across an apartment.

"... Miss Rivas." In his relief, he'd almost slipped. Almost called her by her first name, but they're not there yet, strangely. Or not strangely at all, in fact. It's quite by design. It's a way of keeping himself detached; professional. Or whatever excuse he could come up with to maintain this state of perpetual denial.

"Umm, ...lunch? I brought lunch." He thrust the bag foward, watched it swing between them while cringing inwardly.

"Good! I've only been up for two hours or so; I don't even care what it is, I'm starving!" Carefully, she took the bag from him, one hand supporting the bottom like a newborn's head, the other brushing his as she looped her fingers through the handles. "Come in, come in."

Javier stood a full three seconds or so after she'd already turned around and walked down the narrow hallway, rooted to the spot and struck dumb like some sort of imbecile. His skin prickled in all the places he'd let Katie touch him the night before, which, admittedly, hadn't been too many - but still enough to be burning him with that familiar mixture of guilt and shame now. So he does what he does best when it comes to emotions: deny and repress.

He left his shoes beside the pair of strappy heels she must have discarded there the night before, probably in a hurry to get the severely uncomfortable looking things off after spending a whole evening in them. The hallway opened into an open living room and dining area, the balcony beyond that, and a galley-style kitchen off to one side not unlike his own apartment. It was a sparse place, not quite enough furniture to fill the space - a long couch and coffee table, a low sideboard with a TV on it, none of it new save for the stereo system that was of course on and softly playing the usual eclectic music mix. Javier dropped his bag beside the couch where it would be out of the way. The dining table barely deserved the name. It was a small, round, reedy looking thing, just large enough for two, or maybe two and a child, with two plastic fold-out chairs. On it stood a light blue and white ceramic fruit bowl that currently held zero fruit, just the recording device he'd given her and... some pieces of golden sapphire and diamond jewelry? Puzzled, Javier picked up what turned out to be a bracelet. He raised one eyebrow at her as she set down plates for them.

"Got a raise?"

"Ha! As if. I should have, though. What with the extra work I got saddled with last night. That's the problem with rich people. Miserly. The more zeroes on their bank statements the stingier they get." She scoffed, ranting away all the way to and fro carrying the cutlery. "No, this-" she stabbed a spoonhandle through the bracelet and swirled it around once, twice, before glowering at the gemstones darkly, "This is what Mrs Jurado had me borrow to complete my outfit yesterday. Obviously I have to return them, which is why I'm meeting her for coffee tomorrow afternoon. If you do your whole government agent covert spy observation thing you could at least get eyes on her, maybe even him, too. Franklin Jurado, the money launderer. You can just smell the entitlement on him. I bet he went to one of the really fancy schools over there, like Princeton. Or maybe Harvard."

"I'm glad to see you're making friends." Javier had followed her to the kitchen, leaning against a cabinet and watching her place the food on plates, any attempts to help or make himself useful deftly rebuffed as always.

"I think it was Harvard actually. I think he mentioned it- It's on the recording, in any case. Real smug about it too. La Javeriana is a perfectly good university, too. Older, too. Luis Carlos Galán attended it, you know? Graduated in economics and law, like I did."

"Like the new president, too." Javier dared remark, only to be leveled with a death glare that could make a man fear for his life.

"Professor Samper, oh yes," she said pointedly, thrusting the plates at him, "Don't remind me please. The whole family attended, have for generations."

Javier dutifully carried over the dishes and set them down, returning a moment later for the pitcher of water. Diana followed him, wiping her glasses with her tee-shirt in a gesture he had come to know was more about calming down than it was about being able to see better.

"Right, no politics at meal time. Tell me something interesting instead." Diana attacked her food with a frightening kind of fervor. And suddenly the only thing he could think about was what Stechner had told him the night before, how the deal would go ahead, a neat little setup by politicians whose only objective was looking good enough for re-election. Naturally, the words died in his throat. He shrugged and started digging in.

"Nothing huh? Okay, well, how about this then: How many Mrs Rodríguezes are there?"

"Is this a trick question?" There should be one only, seeing as Miguel was widowed and his little shit of a son wasn't exactly husband material - nor looking to be. "One?"

"Close. There's three."

That didn't make any sense. "That doesn't make any sense. Miguel is widowed and David- ...Gilberto! Gilberto?"

"Gilberto." She confirmed. "All three. They have a rota, apparently. On Sundays they just sit around while he watches whatever game is on which sounds thrilling. And I thought my marriage was crap."

"Huh." If Javier thought that the farcical nature of governmental - and inter-governmental - bureaucracy had prepared him for the absurdity of chasing drug kingpins he had apparently been sorely mistaken. But mostly, he was relieved to see that Diana was in such good spirits again, what with how affected she'd sounded the night before. Lunch was over in no time at all, and Javier felt his short night starting to catch up with him. He yawned surreptitiously as he helped carry the dirty dishes back into the kitchen, or what he thought had been surreptitious anyway.

"Okay, coffee or nap?"

"Huh?" Dammit, his eyes were burning. Diana took the plates and deposited them in the sink, leaving him to blink sluggishly. "I can do those. The dishes."

"You're about to keel over. Haven't slept a wink, have you?"

"About three hours, and another half hour or so on the plane. I'm fine, really." He admitted. The fact that he had to lean against the cabinets did not exactly serve to strengthen his argument. Diana tutted.

"I need to run some errands, grocery shopping and the like. If you are really determined to get to work on the recording I'll make you a good strong coffee before I go, but I would personally suggest you use the time to catch up on some sleep. The couch pulls out."

It was tempting, it really was, but Javier also knew that he'd have a harder time falling asleep later if he messed up his rhythm more now.

"Coffee it is, then." She set to work in the same breath.

A fond smile pulled at Javier's lips. "Thank you." --- Even knowing she was fine and safe now, she hadn't expected that listening to the recording would be so excruciatingly stressful. She had very helpfully compiled a list of encounters, along with time estimates (and a very evocative caricature of the chief accountant, Guillermo Pallomari), which had allowed him to fast forward through the recording to get a general overview. Even so, he'd gotten stuck on several bits, even replaying a few. The introductory round, for one. Her panic attack in the bathroom. Or the segment with that slimy little bastard David Rodríguez. Her quick thinking and clever diversion of Pacho's suspicions. He hated hearing the strain in her voice, the barely masked anxiousness that none of them even seemed to notice but that stood out to him so very clearly. His jaw was clenched so tight he could feel his teeth grinding– The lock on the front door clicked open, jolting Javier from his focused state. A quick glance at his watch told him it had been well over three hours since she'd left for her errands, afternoon now melting into early evening. In his haste to get up he tangled the wires, cursing as he he sat back down. Diana huffed into view, heavy-looking bags on each arm.

"Hey there," she threw him a quick smile before vanishing into the kitchen to set down her load, re-emerging a heartbeat later. She crossed the distance in a few strides, lightly squeezing his shoulder as she leaned over him to peer at the notes he'd taken. "How's it going? Anything viable?"

Her touch, given with such casual affection, electrified him. He'd never been, never considered himself the type of person anyone would come home to.

"Plenty." He needed to collect himself, clear his throat and mind and get a grip. "You did amazing work." And I can't use it in court because you incriminate yourself all throughout.

"Good, I'm glad. Would have been a re-"

The shrill ringing of her landline interrupted them. Immediately, Javier mourned the loss of her touch, the spot on his shoulder where her hand had lingered now turning cold. Pull yourself together, dammit!

The telephone was mounted on the wall that separated hallway and kitchen, and had a cord long enough to allow for a range of movement to about halfway into the latter. Unsure of whether he was supposed to be listening, he tried to go back to the recording. Only tried rather turned into pretended. As quickly as he had put the headphones on, he took them off again, watching Diana for a moment of hesitation. She was shuffling around the kitchen entrance, emptying her shopping bags with the phone receiver pinned between her cheek and shoulder. She was talking to her aunt, tense and worried, but managed a small smile when she caught Javier's eye. Wordlessly, he started helping her putting the groceries away as directed.

"No, I know you don't approve. No one approves except Gabriela, and incidentally Gabriela is also the only one who saw that I was making a mistake right from the start and the only one who tried to dissuade me from going through with the wedding, and if I'd only listened to her and my gut back then, I wouldn't-" She turned her back at this, and Javier put away the last few pieces and left the kitchen, giving her the pretense of privacy at least. It wasn't like the apartment was so vast that her voice wouldn't carry. He walked over to the stereo system he'd turned off earlier and switched it back on, fiddling with the volume by way of looking distracted.

"...No, and I don't want to talk about it any more. I don't care what the Pope says; the Pope was never married! ...Yes, put her on; I think that's better for everyone involved."

Immediately her voice and stance relaxed, became softer and warmer, and the conversation a lot more one-sided as Diana talked to Salome on the phone. Javier's knees were starting to protest at his half-kneeling by the sideboard, but he was too transfixed by trying to determine whether the little girl would perhaps say a few words today. She sometimes did, though very rarely, and Javier had yet to witness it himself.

"Okay, my little darling, you be good for granny, alright? Sleep well, sweetheart. I love you. Bye-bye."

Diana hung up and shuffled over, taking a seat on he edge of the coffee table closest to him. Javier gave up on the volume dial and turned towards her.

"Everything okay?" She nodded and took off her glasses to rub at her eyes. Cautiously, Javier placed his hand atop hers where it laid in her lap, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the top of it soothingly. "And are you okay?"

"I will be; I just- ...I try that she at least hears my voice every day, even if I can't be there and- She's so little and has already lost so much, and every time I have to leave I feel like I'm just making it worse and like maybe that's why she still barely talks. And it's so unfair! She's just a little girl and she needs her mother or at least she needs a mother and we try - my aunt and I try our best but we're all that's left of this family." Her voice got quieter with each word, fading to a whisper before ceasing. Javier didn't know how to respond; all the obvious things seemed like meaningless phrases, frivolous and unhelpful. Diana deflated, her whole frame drooping like misery personified. She let out a single, quiet sob, gripping his hand in both of hers like he was her anchor. "I just wish I at least knew what I was doing."

She wiped at her eyes angrily, blindly grasping for the glasses on the table behind her until she found them and shoved them back on. She stood abruptly, but did not let go of his hand, instead tugging him up, to which his beleaguered knees only objected more.

"Sorry, forget that. Let's sort out dinner." She stalked back into the kitchen, and Javier could only follow of creaky knees, the blood rushing back down into his feet and making them prickle and almost falter. She finally let go of his hand in front of the refridgerator, throwing open the door of it like a shield between them.

"So for dinner I was thinking-"

"Miss Rivas." She didn't even hear him, just went on explaining what was possible with the ingredients she'd picked up earlier. Javier laid his hand on top of hers gently, feeling the tension in her fingers, the tremble in them as she gripped the fridge door tight. Gently still, he eased her grip and shut the door. She didn't even look at him, obstinately staring down at the tiled floor instead.

"I'm in control of my emotions." She declared defiantly. "I'm not a liability to your investigation."

"I know." Javier took both her hands in his now, squeezed them once, still gentle. Kept his voice soft too; soft and low and for her ears only. "I know you ...aren't. It's okay. You're doing so good. You're doing amazing. It's okay." On the last few words, he raised their entwined hands, nudging her chin up to look at him. Took in her reddened but stubbornly dry eyes, her lips pressed into a painful line, and the hard set of her jaw and brows. All she needed was one final push to let go, one word of permission, and he gave it gladly. "It's okay."

He'd expected an outburst now, an explosive outpouring of grief or at least wrath. Instead, Diana squeezed his hands back once before letting go, leaving him standing in the kitchen while she went into her bedroom. He heard her rummage around for a moment, then she returned with a small photo album in her hands which she carefully set down on the counter before throwing it open and flipping through the pages until she found the picture she was looking for. It showed what he assumed was her family. He recognized only her and Maritza, both noticeably younger then. Side by side, the family resemblance became more apparent, especially in comparison with the respective parents. Wordlessly, she flipped through the pages. In the next one Maritza's father was missing, the one after that, her own father was no longer there. The one after that showed the addition of a young man and what must have been a newborn Salome, him holding the baby with a broad, dimpled smile that his daughter had inherited. He was gone in the following picture, Diana's mother vanished in the one after that, until the last photograph showed only Maritza's mother, Diana herself, and little Salome.

"Some time after we cleared out Maritza's apartment, I went to Escobar's grave. If I was looking for some kind of satisfaction, I didn't find it there." She closed the album with a sharp snap. "The whole drive back, last night, I was sure I was about to end up fish fodder, and I just thought... with how my aunt's health is failing, will Salome be all alone in the world before she's even five?"

Javier swallowed hard, choking on the words that had sprung up onto the tip of his tongue. That he wouldn't let that happen (but it could have happened not twenty-four hours prior and there would have been nothing he could have done about it). That he would make sure the little girl was taken care of (How? He wasn't kin and Diana's aunt didn't know him. And he wasn't exactly prime fatherhood material, so what exactly did he think he could do?). And in the back of his head, he still heard the desperate shallow little breaths she'd heaved during her panic attack. So different words jumped onto his tongue instead, tumbling out before he could ever think through the implications.

"Do you want out? You don't even have to go meet Mrs Jurado tomorrow, I can organize to have you pulled out within the week. And your family too. You'd be safe." 'I am never doing this again', she'd said. Well, he wouldn't make her. And considering what he knew now, that his whole investigation was just a front? What was the damn point of it anyway?

Diana smiled, just a slight quirk of the corner of her lip, but the first in what felt like hours now. "Now? No. I don't want anyone else having to go through what my family and I went through, here or anywhere. This kind of...lust for power - it's grasping. It never stops, it is never satisfied. And it doesn't care what stands in its way."

"You sure?" He ought to tell her, he really ...but even though the betrayal isn't his, just his to hand on, he hesitates again.

"I am. Starting with meeting Christina Jurado tomorrow. Besides, you'll be with me all the way through."

"Yeah," his voice creaks like a rusty hinge, "Yeah, of course I'll be. Just a stone's throw away." --- "Goodness, does she ever shut up?" Javier shut the door behind himself, hanging up the spare key on the hook by the door. They'd just returned from Diana and Mrs Jurado's coffee and lunch date - separately for safety purposes - and Javier's head was still swimming. Diana might be reasonably called talkative, but at least she had things to say. Christina Jurado, it turned out, could talk a mile a minute without saying much of substance at all. Diana had been all but steam-rollered by the barrage of conversation and Javier, who had listened closely to all two and a half hours of it, was starting to feel the beginnings of a pressure headache building.

"Without being condescending, Agent Peña, there is so much that men don't understand about the way women talk with each other." Diana peeked out into the hallway with a raised eyebrow. "Besides, she may well have been... uuh-"

"May have been what?" After discarding his shoes, he walked into the apartment fully. Diana frowned, then touched a fingertip to the side of her nose with a meaningful look. When he didn't light up with sudden understanding, she gave a good-natured yet long-suffering sigh. And Javier really thinks he should probably have slept more than four hours, but his back was now paying the price for his stint on that marshmallow fluff that passed for Katie's mattress, and also his mind liked to give him trouble when it ought to quiet down.

"She may have been what, Miss Rivas?"

"Mrs Jurado, I have good reason to believe, likes to uhh... sample the product." The penny rolled around Javier's exhausted mind a moment longer before dropping.

"...You mean to tell me she was high on cocaine the whole time?"

"Yes. Why are you whispering?" Why indeed. Javier cleared his throat and wondered why this revelation left him so scandalized. "She did use on Friday night, too, which is a frequency I honestly find alarming. I hope it's more of a weekend thing- Franklin knows, but I don't think he has any idea what to do about it. I'd reckon it's something they're both keen to keep under wraps, though for different reasons. I don't imagine the gentlemen would be overly thrilled, especially the brothers. They like to keep a pretty tight hold on everything even remotely to do with the business."

"Huh... what the hell are you do-" While he had been musing on this new development in his sluggish mind, she'd stuck one hand down her blouse from the top and the other up it from the bottom, fumbling around for a moment before pulling the wiretap she'd been wearing for the meeting out and handing it to him non-chalantly.

"When's your flight?"

"Uh, late. Later. Ten-ish." He'd be back in Bogotá before midnight, but there was the drive back to Buenaventura to consider. Even so, it was only mid-afternoon now. Javier rubbed his hand over his burning eyes. His brain was no longer in a state to be doing that kind of math and he sighed, the coffee he'd just had clearly not doing anything.

"You have at least an hour to get some sleep. Come lie down." She was out from in front of him and across the room before he could blink tiredly, already pushing back the coffee table and bending to pull out the couch. Javier meant to protest, he really did. But. Sleep beckoned. And so, with heavy feet dragging across the laminate floor, he acquiesced.

"Thanks." He mumbled, gratefully receiving a pillow.

"I'll wake you in an hour, hour and a half tops." She already sounded further away than she should be, considering she was by the sofa-bed's - and his - head still. Javier hummed a reply, more affirmative sound than any proper words. As he drifted off, he thought he felt gentle fingers brushing the hair back from his forehead. But surely that was just wishful thinking, for what else could it be? ---

So, six more months of looking busy and doing nothing while the Calí godfathers revved up operations to squeeze as much money as they could out. He'd had to send his agents home after they'd been splashed all over the front page of the Espectador, so not only did the DEA not currently have any presence on the ground in Calí, it also left Diana without even the faintest layer of protection. And with the massive stink the Colombians, fronted by General Vargas, had kicked up about it, he couldn't send in any replacements, no matter how eager or indeed fastidious Agent Feistl was. And now the incident in Yumbo. The youngest of the dead had only been six years old. Javier glowered at the TV report where the safety inspector was giving his final report. Natural gas leak... yeah, sure. This thing reeked; he felt it in his bones that the cartel was responsible somehow. And he couldn't go after them. The desire to go find Stechner and smash his stupid smug face through the screen became near unbearable. He turned the TV off before the urge manifested into action.

He sat down behind his desk, taking a moment to look around the largely dark and empty office space around him before opening that particular drawer on the top right and taking out the arrest warrants. Their money and power and the influence both bought meant that the Calí bosses could move comparatively freely, but they still hid away. Carefully so, with the kind of tight-knit security that most heads of state could only dream of. Even if he did find a way to get at them, his hands were now unofficially bound. Well over a year's work, two good agents sent home, his informant risking her life every single day, more innocent dead who would never get justice, and what for? He hated it. He still hadn't told her. He thought about quitting.

The phone rang. He knew it was her. She didn't even try his home landline first now, knowing he spent his evenings at the office more often than not. Javier let it ring once more while mustering up the courage to come clean.

"Miss Rivas, good evening."

"Decidedly not. Did you watch the news?"

Javier scrubbed a hand over his face, squeezed his eyes shut so as to not have to look at the warrants spread out on his desk. There was only so much mockery a man could take. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"It was them. David specifically, that self-absorbed buffoon. They chewed him out for over half an hour over it, which is far less than he deserves."

"I figured." His throat felt tight; undoing another shirt button did precisely nothing.

"Gilberto worries it will give the government leverage to go back on the deal. I hope it does."

So did Javier, but knowing the special interests being at play here he didn't hold out much hope.

"And you have been made to recall your agents from Calí."

Javier gulped. "Yes."

"But they'll be replaced, right?"

Well, here goes nothing then. "...No."

Silence. She's not one to raise her voice even when upset and right now she must be livid. But perhaps she's shocked before anything else. Shocked into silence, into disbelief. He hates this, too. He wishes she would scream at him. Instead all he gets is a brittle quiet little '...What?'

And it's so unfair, all of it. Stechner doesn't have to face her with this, the bastard. None of the politicians who are oh so invested in this little vanity project do either, the consequences aren't real to them. They get to collect the empty symbol of a supposedly bloodless surrender, some good publicity, and don't have to do or face any of the ugly truths on the ground. He thinks about quitting again. Pats his pocket for the reporter's business card. If he's leaving, he thinks, he'd do it with a bang. Burn all bridges with a mighty barrage of his personal J'accuse. But for now that's all idle thinking.

"The surrender deal is going ahead as planned, because the powers that be will it so." He explained, truly understanding the sentiment of shooting the messenger at this very moment. "My hands are bound, there's nothing I can do."

"Bullshit!" Yeah, agreed. He tries saying more, justifications that turn to dust on his tongue before the words even leave his mouth. His heart's not in it, and it only serves to stoke her wrath, fearsome even over the distance of the phone line.

"What else will they get away with? If you're rich enough you can buy impunity? A blank cheque for murder? How many more people must die? Every day I go in and make myself complicit in it all on the promise that it will take them down!"

The worst part of this, perhaps, is that he knows she's right. If any of those senators in their cushy Washington offices had even a bit of her bravery, her steadfastness, her moral clarity–

"I'm sorry." His mouth is so dry. At last he opens his eyes again, glaring down at the warrants. Gilberto Rodríguez Orejuela. Miguel Rodríguez Orejuela.

"You're sorry?" Even now her voice is still level. Full of venomous disbelief and cold with rage, yes, but it has not risen even a single decibel.

"Miss Rivas, I-"

The line went dead with a click. She'd hung up.

--- --- ---

author’s notes:

*me, an idiot* this chapter will cover episodes 1 through to 4. this is a thing that is feasible and realistic

*me, 7000 words in and still at the party* ah. oh no.

in other words: remember last chapter when I cut things off because I wanted to keep it below 10k? yeah, that won’t be happening anymore. It takes as long as it takes. *shrug emoji* stay hydrated.

DIAN (Dirección de Impuestos y Aduanas Nacionales) is the Colombian government agency that is responsible for collecting taxes

Fernando Botero is a Colombian artist and sculptor, famous for these really chunky bronze statues, though the one I reference here is a complete fabrication and does not actually exist

according to the Art and Making of Narcos book Navegante’s actual name is Jorge Velasquez

‘chompa’ according to the dictionary I used, is a term for jacket used in Colombia and some other places

yes I looked up average temperatures in all these cities. I have concluded that it gets hot af in Laredo

La Javeriana (Pontificia Universidad Javeriana) is one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in Colombia. Presidential candidate Carlos Luis Galan did indeed attend there, as did president Ernesto Samper, who is president during the season in the show. He also did indeed teach there for a while in the early 80s, which fortunately matches up with my timeline. It was indeed founded before Harvard. Thirteen years before to be exact (1623 vs 1636)

here’s the drawing Diana made of Pallomari (contador=accountant):

tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @fromthedeskoftheraven @dindjarindiaries @shikin83 @cinewhore @maddoggrahaml @javier-djarin @huliabitch @heatherbel @shestillwrites1

didn’t ask to be tagged but reblogged all previous parts and therefore I assume you enjoyed it regardless of that you reading my story made me very happy list: @asoftcollection (thank you for indulging me and brainstorming the Jurados with me it helped a lot) @holographic-carmen @dermandalorianer @oldstuffnewstuff (sry it won’t let me tag ur sideblog hope this is okay)

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#narcos (tv)#narcos #narcos fanfic #javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#like gloss tag #multipart #javier peña #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 4

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nbrook29 · 3 years

Note

152 for Sobbe, hope you're doing okay 💖💖

45 for Sobbe 💜💜

based on dialogue prompts

152. [text]: So I might be in a hospital right now…

45. “Don’t tempt me.”

💓 💓 💓

“Wow, you’re really useless today.”

Jens flips him off lifting himself gingerly from the pavement and kicking the skateboard in frustration as the boys laugh at his petulant expression.

“Come here then and try it yourself, smartass.”

Robbe raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, I wasn’t the one claiming to be the master of skateboarding! I’m just sitting here patiently waiting for the “master” to teach me his apparently superior skills,” he says cheekily to rile him up, the boys high-fiving him for the burn.

Jens just rolls his eyes and goes back to the bowl, switching to easier tricks for now. Moyo and Aaron join him shortly after realizing that the show’s over while Robbe hangs back for now, stretching his body on the bench contentedly and enjoying the breeze coming from the river doing wonders to his overheated body.

Antwerp has been experiencing a heatwave for the past 2 weeks and as much as Robbe loves summer weather, he’s kinda over being sweaty 24/7. His house doesn’t have air conditioning so the skatepark located next to the river is his favorite retreat in the evenings when the sun goes down. That and the heaven that is Sander’s deliciously cool room, kept at 17 degrees at all times thanks to the recently installed AC. Robbe enjoys it so much that Sander jokingly accused him of being with him only for this particular privilege. When Robbe didn’t deny, too occupied with moving his head left and right to catch the cold drift on his cheeks while standing directly under the device, Sander grabbed him and tickled him into submission until he was satisfied with Robbe’s wheezed out confessions of his undying love.

Good times.

Robbe is deep into thoughts wondering what kind of pizza they should order today and how to convince Sander to let him order one with pineapple on when his phone pings with a messenger notification.

Sander: So I might be in a hospital right now…

He sits up so fast he gets dizzy, his vision swimming for a few seconds while his mind is helpfully suggesting to him all the darkest scenarios of what may have happened. He doesn’t waste his time typing back, his hands way too shaky at this point anyway so he just picks Sander’s number and waits impatiently, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and trying to calm down his beating like crazy heart.

His boyfriend makes him wait for five unbearably long signals and Robbe swears he’s going to kick his ass for that.

...as soon as he makes sure he’s alright, and in one piece, and that everything is just fine.

“Hey.”

It’s just one short word but it makes Robbe breathe again. And maybe he’s overreacting because Sander texted him so obviously he’s well enough but he just can’t help it - Robbe’s heart belongs to him, it beats for him, so any sign he may be hurt just makes it stop or go crazy.

“Sander, what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he must be looking a bit frantic because the boys take notice and skate closer to him to figure out what’s going on.

“I’d been better but I’m mostly fine. I-, umm, I might have been hit by a car?”

Robbe feels his knees buckle a little and he sits back down, taking in a few shaky breaths. “What?!”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t that bad, I just have some bruises and I’m sore-”

“Oh thank god.”

“-and I think I have a broken leg?”

“Shit, fuck, what? Where are you? Which hospital?”

The guys stand in a circle around him with worried faces.

“At Sint-Elisabeth. Are you gonna come?” his voice sounds so small Robbe’s heart breaks a little.

“Of course, I’m on my way, babe.”

He doesn’t waste much time on explanations, just briefly tells the boys what happened before running to the nearest bus station. It takes him agonizing 30 minutes to get to the right street and then another 5 to finally set his foot in the hospital building. A nurse directs him to the ER once he explains the situation and then he’s in a room full of just brought in there patients. Each bed is separated with a screen and he finds Sander on the bed number 3.

His green eyes immediately find his and he smiles at him with relief. “Hey.”

Robbe looks all over his body to check for damage, takes in the small cut above his eyebrow, the bleached hair that is in total disarray, the t-shirt torn on his shoulder with edges stained with what looks like dried blood, the scrape on his forearm, and of course, the broken leg, covered with cast from foot to middle thigh.

He feels nauseous when he takes all that in, swallowing hard to calm down his stomach and not throw up all over the floor. Closing quickly the distance between them he drops into his arms, trying to me mindful of all his injuries.

“Shh, I’m okay,” Sander runs his hand back and forth on his back when he notices his unsteady breathing, whispering assurances in his ear. Once Robbe gets in under control, he presses a few kisses on his neck and then disentangles himself from his arms, resting his forehead on Sander’s. The boy hisses when Robbe accidently touches the cut above his eyebrow, smiling a little when Robbe apologizes profusely and kisses him to shut him up.

“So what happened?” Robbe asks, sitting appropriately on the bed and entwining their fingers because he just needs to feel him right now. Sander doesn’t comment on the way he basically clings to him, and Robbe knows he would be the same if the situation was reversed.

“I was walking through the crosswalk and the guy didn’t notice me soon enough. But he hadn’t been driving fast in the first place so I think that saved my ass.”

“Do you have a concussion? Is there anything wrong besides your leg?”

“No, I’m fine, they did the scan and it’s all clear.”

The corners of Robbe’s mouth twitch a little and normally he would make a joke but he’s not really in the mood to joke right now.

“Yes, okay, go on, I know what I said, “it’s all clear” meaning my head is a void with no brain,” Sander chuckles but when he sees the sad puppy eyes Robbe is giving him right now he gets serious and sighs. “I’m okay. Really. Just sore. And to be honest, glad it’s not my right hand that’s broken. Can you imagine?”

“I can imagine worse than that actually, you could’ve...”

Sander tsks and shakes his head. “We’re not gonna do that, okay?”

When Robbe doesn’t say anything and just sits there with his eyes downcast and playing with Sander’s fingers, he tips his chin with his left hand.

“Okay?”

He finally nods, unconvinced, his treacherous mind full with what ifs. The whole situation is making him feel vulnerable and he just can’t shake it off like that. And he knows Sander is trying to make him feel better, that he’s alive and breathing next to him but he needs the closeness now more than ever. So he toes off his shoes and not paying attention to anyone that may look at them lies down next to Sander on his uninjured arm curling himself around his side and burrows his face in the crook of his neck.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he mumbles while Sander pets his hair, the touch grounding him and providing much needed comfort. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Robin, shh, it’s okay, hey, it’s okay.”

He nods against his neck and works on calming himself down.

“Did you call your parents?” he asks after a minute.

“My mum is here, she went for coffee and to bring me some snacks. She should be back any minute now so she can drive you home.”

“You’re staying here?”

“Yeah, they want to keep me overnight. It’s a normal procedure though, so don’t worry.”

Robbe nods again and gives him a gentle squeeze.

“Oh hello darling.”

The voice of Sander’s mum makes him flush in embarrassment because he’s still glued to her injured son. He scrambles off the bed and straightens out his clothes making Sander chuckle but the woman only smiles at him and doesn’t comment at his state. She cups Sander’s cheek and asks him how he feels before turning to Robbe who still holds his hand.

“So, has he already told you I told him off because I had warned him once it’s going to happen?”

Robbe looks at her confused while Sander rolls his eyes behind her back.

“Yeah, I told him someone is gonna hit him with their car if he doesn’t wear something reflective on his dark clothes! But did he listen to me? No, of course not!” she shakes her head at Sander with disapproval, hands on her hips, ignoring his groans.

“Oh my god mom-”

“Don’t “mom” me, I’m not in the mood, my precious baby boy is hurt and I’m upset.”

Sander rarely blushes but when he does, Robbe feels an immense amount of satisfaction because usually he’s the one going on red in the face thanks to Sander himself. And Sander’s mom referring to him this way in Robbe’s presence never fails to make his cheeks pink in embarrassment. It does lift Robbe’s mood a little and he grins at him cheekily over her shoulder, Sander’s blush deepening even more.

“I actually fully agree with your mom.”

“What, you’re gonna stick reflective strips all over my wardrobe now?”

“Don’t tempt me. I’m actually seriously considering it. Ugh, you and your abundance of black clothes.”

Sander’s mom is very pleased with Robbe's support and she gives her son a triumphant smile.

“See? Listen to your boyfriend, baby. Also, I think you’ve just been outvoted.”

Sander looks at them bemused, a pout forming on his lips so Robbe leans down and catches them in a short kiss, still conscious of Sander’s mom standing right next to them.

It’s getting late so they need to go while Sander is transported to a different room for the night. He gets painkillers for the ache in his broken leg and it quickly makes him sleepy, his eyes fighting to stay open when they say goodbye. It’s difficult for Robbe to leave him out of his sight but he doesn’t really have a choice so he waits until Sander’s mom says her goodbyes, telling him she’s going to wait for him in the car before he kisses the life out of him, the boy falling asleep minutes later. He places the last kiss on his forehead as he watches Sander breath in and out evenly, his face scrunching a little in his sleep at the touch.

Then he quietly closes the door to his room, already preparing himself for the night full of nightmares.

#wtfock #car accident

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wackybuddiemewbs · 3 years

Text

Random Buddie Fic Snippets - no title, just (bad) vibes

Here’s to another snippet of things that ghost through my Word files. This one’s particularly headache-inducing for me personally. For one, trigger warnings galore. And then I have *checks file* 41k (!!!) words worth of non-fic noted down, but it’s really just unassembled bits and pieces of mostly dialog. Grrrrrrr. 😖

Since such a fic would take a lot more planning... which is basically the antithesis of me for all intents and purposes... I pester you with snippets like they are pestering me. Said it before and can only reiterate: I make you suffer with me. *cackles*

Basically, the story plays on the idea that Eddie and Buck grew up together due to plot convenient purposes and meet again at the fire station after years apart. Anyway, here’s to more madness mingled with angst! Cheers!

Buck slings his duffel bag over his shoulder when his phone vibrates. Sighing, he shifts his weight to take it out of his pocket and take the call. A smile creeps up his lips when he sees the picture flare up on his screen.

“Hey, what’s up, Mads?”

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that you were right about that little bakery downtown. It’s so worth the twenty minute trip,” she nearly groans. And Buck can relate. When he found that authentic Mexican bakery on a long run through the city, he may or may not have shed a few tears of happiness. And he may or may not have bought pastry worth a hundred bucks.

Totally worth it to run all those extra miles for the carbs, though.

“How many conchas did you have?” Buck asks, chuckling softly.

“I’m pleading the fifth.”

“Did you drive back to get more?” he questions, though Buck is fairly sure what the answer is already, which comes promptly, “Which is why I might be late for work.”

Buck laughs, leaning back against his car. “They are in the top 5 of conchas I ever had, which is saying something. So yeah, I get the feeling.”

And he should really know, he’s had the best in the world and no. 2 and 3 also. Though those are not up for sale.

“So, I need a bit of distraction to keep myself from digging through the remains of the bag before I make it to the car,” she tells him.

“Sure, what do you want to hear?”

“Howie told me that you’re getting someone new on the team today. Are you excited?”

“… Oh, ugh, sure.” Buck can feel his jaw cramping at that.

“You know you just sounded more excited about me being on a sugar high thanks to Mexican pastry than you are about your new teammate arriving.”

He’d hoped to avoid that conversation before he got over with it. Because that’s how he normally rolls with it. He gets over with it.

Works with band-aids and most situations that give you discomfort.

But Maddie has maybe not the sixth but seventh sense apparently big sisters seem to inherit by birth, so it appears that not even the most amazing conchas up for sale in all of Los Angeles will spare him having that conversation now. Which is the equivalent of tearing duct tape off, but slowly.

“I’m a huge concha fan, what can I say? And sure, it’s cool. It’d be nice to have a partner on the team, like, permanently, like Chim and Hen, more like.”

Buck rolls his eyes back as far as they will into his skull. It’s a small wonder that Maddie doesn’t buy his bullshit. He was fine just dodging the topic until now, it’s what normally works best for him. But yeah, Maddie just knows how to coax it out of him, and he loves and hates her for it.

“Talk to me, Buck.”

Buck looks up to the sky. “… I guess I’m just a bit nervous.”

“You are nervous? Don’t you think it’s up to the new teammate to be a bundle of nerves?”

“That’s kind of my thing, though,” Buck argues.

He has been ever since Bobby announced that they’d get a newbie, not a probie, but someone to be on the team with them. Dutifully, Buck laughed at the comments about how Bobby seemingly hired him a babysitter to make sure he doesn’t do reckless stuff all the time.

The nervous energy settled in when he got home that day and his leg wouldn’t stop bobbing well into lying in bed, trying to sleep. He only fell asleep halfway through reading the Wikipedia list of minor planets named after people.

“Then why do you feel nervous?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me,” she says softly.

Buck closes his eyes. He understood by now that yes, he can. But that doesn’t mean he wants to. Most of the time, Buck wished he didn’t have to tell anyone anything ever again and simply exist in the here and now. Because the here and now is sunny and tastes of pretty damn awesome conchas.

“I know it’s stupid, but…” His voice trails off.

And maybe she can read his mind, Buck wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be the case, because Maddie goes on to say, “You know he’s not taking your place, right?”

“What? Yeah, I mean…” Buck chews on his bottom lip. Whenever Maddie starts to talk like that, he feels like he’s sitting with a therapist. And suddenly, what he wants to believe are just his antics sounds like food for the shrinks.

“This is supposed to be your partner. Someone to have your back, not stab you in the back,” Maddie points out.

“Rationally, I know all that. It’s just…” He stretches out his legs.

“It’s just what?” she asks in a gentle tone of voice.

“What if he’s better than me?”

What if they realize that he’s expendable after all? What if someone comes along who can do things better than Buck without the attitude? What if he can’t prove his worth anymore because that guy can do it just as well, maybe even better?

“Then I will be glad because that means someone capable is watching out for my baby brother,” Maddie answers, pulling Buck back to the current conversation, not the fictional ones inside his head.

“What if we end up hating each other’s guts?” Buck continues. He had to restrain himself from actually typing a list of all those questions on his phone when his mind went spiraling upon receiving the news. Because that’s what’s been going on ever since Bobby announced. And Buck knows how stupid it is, but his brain didn’t get the memo. There are so many what ifs that it’s making him dizzy thinking about them.

“Then you talk about it like actual adults. And anyway, no one can hate you to your guts. You’re amazing.”

Buck has to fight hard not to blush. “Thanks, but you’re biased because you’re my sister.”

His heart still beats a little faster every time he says those words out loud. Something that comes so light and casual these days, though it isn’t. It is closer to what it should be. Because it should be casual, natural, given.

But apparently, the world didn’t get that memo yet. Seemingly a pattern.

“And as your sister, I’m also always right.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

He laughs. She chuckles back.

“Listen,” Maddie continues. “Just be yourself. You’re going to figure it out. This is exciting, Buck. More people to add to your family, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks,” he croaks.

“I’ll call you during lunch time, unless you’re out on a call. And then I want all the details on the newbie.”

“Alright. Pro tip: Put the bag of pastries in the trunk of your car. Only way to keep your paws off of them while driving.”

“I may actually crawl back, but yeah, it’d require a lot more effort.”

He smiles. “Drive save.”

“Will do.”

“Alright, I’m heading in,” Buck says, pushing away from his car. “Or else I will be running late, too.”

“Love you, little brother.”

“Love you, too. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

Buck hangs up and stuffs his phone back into his pocket.

Maddie is right. There is nothing to be nervous about. He has a team now. No one is leaving. New people are arriving. That’s how it works. That’s normal. And he gets to pester the newbie. So he should really be excited, as Maddie said. Buck knows he should focus on that. On how great this could turn out to be. On having a partner. Someone to have his back. All the time.

He sucks in a deep breath as he comes to stand in front of the door leading inside the fire station.

“The door is not closed,” he mutters with closed eyes, grabbing the handle. Buck pushes inside. He is greeted by the familiar hum of the fire station coming to life. People are talking over coffee, some are still fastening the buttons on their shirts as they make up the stairs.

And there’s no place he’d rather be. Buck knew that the moment he first walked into the station for the first time, and that assessment hasn’t changed since.

Buck makes for the locker rooms to change, not wanting to run late like Maddie. Once changed into his uniform, Buck finds himself a little more at ease. Athena once pointed out that they wear those uniforms as a way of protecting themselves. You take them off after work and leave all the bad behind that you’ve witnessed on a call. For Buck, the other way is just as true, though.

When he puts on that uniform on, he can leave his anxious, knee-bobbing self behind and do something meaningful. Because that’s what he found here, beside the team that means so much to him. He found a purpose. A way of answering a calling that lies far back in a past he can’t and won’t remember. To save lives.

Buck looks at his reflection in the mirror, straightens out the collar, makes sure his hair sits perfectly. His glance lingers on the name tag a moment longer, brushes his fingers over the metal plate, the one thing he can’t fix or straighten out.

But that won’t make me flinch. Ever.

“Buckaroo! Time for coffee and talk! I need new material on that show Denny and you are watching and that you need to update me on, so I don’t have to watch it!”

Buck smiles as he closes the locker to see Hen standing there with two cups of coffee.

“Coming.”

But that fixes a whole lot already.

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

Hen sips her coffee in silence as Bobby goes on about who is doing what for the day. She is glad that she isn’t assigned truck cleaning duty. That’s one of the best things about newbies and probies coming in. They get to do the dirty work for a bit. She had to jump those hoops, too, like everyone did, so it only seems fair.

Chim nudges her in the side, pulling her out of her musings. “Have you seen the newbie yet?”

She nudges him back a bit harder to tell him wordlessly that he is supposed to stop doing that. “If I had, don’t you think I would’ve told you by now?”

“Just saying, being late on the first day is not a good sign.”

“Can I help you with something, Han, Wilson?” Bobby calls out. “Care to share with the rest of the team?”

Buck laughs beside them, earning himself a nudge from Hen. That kid is going places sometimes, but Hen learned to love him fiercely after he stopped being a punk.

Fine, he’s still a punk sometimes, but we got to see there’s a heart of gold underneath all the punk and muscle and hair gel.

He grew on her the way he managed to grow on anyone, even the Captain who doesn’t like to admit that more than anyone around the station. He fired the boy first week in, and it was well-deserved, but he proved capable and kind.

Hen knew she was done for this humanoid golden retriever when she fussed over not having a babysitter for Denny and Buck jumped in after he’d just done a double-shift. She and Karen were still working things out and he just made the room, even though the boy deserved bed more than anyone else. Still, he took Denny to the park, finished homework with him, and got him to go to bed even though the kid is not so much a negotiator as he is a small dictator when it comes to bedtime. Karen and she found Buck passed out, snoring like a lawnmower, a book still in his lap while sitting next to Denny’s bed.

“Nothing, Cap,” Chimney answers. “Just sharing excitement about the newbie.”

“You’ll meet him shortly. He had to pick up his gear first and talk to the higher-ups another time. Once he arrives, you can pester him with questions as I know you will.”

“On it, Cap.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but then his mind goes back to the clipboard and the rest of the chores yet to be divided among the firefighters on shift. The rest of the morning routine goes without further incident, so the three are soon walking down the stairs to their designated task of checking their stocks on medical equipment.

“Okay. That is a beautiful man,” Chimney says, suddenly stopping in his tracks.

Hen trains her eyes on the dark-haired Latino, putting on a shirt. That should be the newbie, then.

“Where’s the lie? And I like girls.”

“Eddie…,” Buck breathes beside her.

Hen whips her head around at the sound.

“Wait, you know this guy?” Chim asks, but Buck doesn’t say anything. Instead, he starts to walk towards the new guy, or almost staggers, she should rather say. The newbie only takes notice of him when his head pops out from the shirt.

“Buck?”

To Hen, it feels like the two just go in slow motion while the rest of the fire station is crazy and busy as always. As though the whole world disappeared around them.

She can’t make out whatever words may be exchanged between them before the new guy covers the last few steps between them and pulls Buck against him in a tight hug. Shock is written all over his face, but also huge relief. Though Hen honestly wished they stood the other way around, because she would like to know just what expression is flitting across her little golden retriever’s face.

“What on earth is going on here?” Chimney mutters.

“I ain’t got no clue.”

The newbie pulls away, smiling over both ears, both hands deftly resting on Buck’s arms. Even though Hen still can’t see Buck’s face, it seems that the guy is doing all the talking for a change. Then he is hugging him all over again.

“I repeat, what on earth is going on here?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Before they can overcome their paralysis, Buck starts to move, gesturing behind himself. The new guy nods with the brightest of smiles, not once letting go of Buck’s arm as they start to walk towards them.

Her confusion is multiplied by the way Buck carries himself, eyes downcast, looking nothing but nervous.

Did someone exchange the 118’s golden retriever this morning, or what’s going on here?

“... can’t believe we meet again in this place of all places,” she can hear the new guy say as they approach.

“S, same.”

Buck is stuttering. To repeat the repeat: What on earth is going on here?

“We have so much catching up to do.”

“Yeah.”

“Buckaroo?” Hen calls out, or maybe demands. She no longer cares for the details here. She needs to get down to the bottom of this. Fast.

“Oh, sorry, I just… this is Eddie.”

“Hi.”

“Hi Eddie, it is a pleasure meeting you. We will greet you good and proper in only just a moment. Hold the line,” Hen says, before turning her attention back to Buck. “Now to you, Buckaroo. Spill the beans.”

“Yeah,” Chim agrees.

But Buck is not forthcoming. Boy looks like a fish out of the water, his mouth opening and closing without any sounds coming out. This makes the sirens ring inside Hen’s head, not the ones at the station. Because their Buckaroo never stops talking, even when he should sometimes, and even when he wants to stop talking, he will keep talking. So him not finding anything to say may or may not force Mother Hen to have to look after her punk chick here.

“We grew up together,” Eddie says after a pause, still all soft smiles and maybe even softer curls, by the looks of it. Hen will worry about that later, too. “I honestly had no clue he was working at this station, let alone that he was in L.A. Color me surprised. Abuela will not believe this.”

“Abuela?”

“My grandmother. She’s the one who fostered him before…,” Eddie continues, but then stops himself when he notices the look of sheer panic on Buck’s face. “They do not know this.”

Buck shakes his head.

“Dios.”

“Wait, you were in foster care?” Chimney almost cries out.

“In Texas?” Hen adds, her mind still short-circuiting thanks to that input.

“Yeah. I was adopted by the Moores after that.”

Chimney gapes at him. “You were adopted?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, they don’t know about that either?” Eddie asks, now almost as frantic as they are.

Welcome to the club, hon.

“Now they do,” Buck mutters.

“But Maddie isn’t adopted. I should know.” Chimney lifts his index finger.

“Right,” Hen agrees.

Eddie makes a face. “Who’s Maddie?”

“My girlfriend, Buck’s sister.”

“You have a sister?” Eddie slaps his hand against Buck’s arm, shock taking the place of confusion.

“Wait, you grew up with him and don’t know his sister?”

“It’s a long story,” Buck sighs.

“Like how you’re Texan?” Hen scoffs.

Buck holds up his hands. “Okay, guys, can we stop spiraling for a second?”

Hen opens her mouth to give him a piece of mind, but she’s abruptly cut off by their captain standing at the top of the stairs. “Buck! I could use a hand up here!”

“On my way, Cap!” Buck yells back, the amount of relief to opt out of the conversation more than imminent. “Sorry, duty calls!”

“Hey no,” Chim hisses, but Buck isn’t having it. He pats Eddie on the shoulder. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, he starts to jog, or rather run, up the stairs. All watch him go, before their eyes fall back on the people standing right in front of them.

Well, if that’s not awkward.

“So, ugh. Hi again,” the new guy says, smiling sheepishly. “Eddie Diaz, your newbie.”

“Hi. Hen Wilson.”

“Howard Han, but you can call me Chimney or Chim. And why I’m called that is between me and God.”

“Okay. That may be only the second most confusing thing to happen on my first day.”

“We don’t normally act like this,” Hen tries to reassure him.

Chim makes a face. “We don’t?”

Hen nudges him in the side hard enough to make Chim gasp.

“Wilson, Han, you’re supposed to get on with the stocks!” someone calls out.

“You’re not our boss!” Chim shouts back at what turns out to be that jackass Lambert from B-roll no one likes because his attitude stinks about as much as his aftershave.

“But Cap is and he told me to tell you to move it!”

“I hate that guy,” Chim grumbles.

“I think I’ll like it here,” Eddie chuckles.

“They are so young and innocent when they join,” Chim snorts.

“Welcome to the 118,” Hen says, giving the younger man’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I suppose you should go up there as well and talk to the captain.”

“Alright, I’ll see you around.”

“Most certainly.”

“That was only mildly threatening,” Chim laughs, rolling his eyes well before Hen jabs him another time.

“Good to have you here,” he adds.

“Indeed.”

“Good to be here. See you later.”

“Later,” both say in unison.

Eddie smiles at them before climbing up the stairs.

“You try to get a hold of your boo, I’ll see what info I can squeeze out of Cap or Buck, whoever I get my hands on first.”

“Aren’t we supposed to get on with…”

Hen glowers at him.

“I said nothing.”

“Less talking to me, more talking to your girlfriend.”

Chimney makes a mock salute, before walking away while fiddling with his phone. Hen let’s her gaze wander up to the gallery with a grimace. Something is not right, but she is going to figure it out. Because Hen Wilson keeps all her little chicks on track, even more so now that they got a new one to take care of.

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

Eddie tosses the sponge into the water bucket. Getting some of the crappier chores for the day is something he fully expected to happen. What he didn't expect, not in a million years, was running into Buck. Eddie’s head is still reeling because of it. And for what it seems, the same is true for Buck.

Buck.

To say that he seemed shocked is an understatement. Eddie knows the way Buck expresses panic. He’s grown up making sure the kid breathed instead of keeling over when it hit him, so Eddie knows that this was not just surprise, this was fight-or-flight level panic. Eddie knows by now he was so panicked because his colleagues didn’t know about the fostering or adoption – and he could still kick himself for bringing it up unawares.

He jumped to the conclusion because Buck used to talk about it freely to anyone who asked, especially after he was adopted by the Moores. Because it was his way of signifying to the rest of the world that he’d made it from being abandoned to finding friends and family. So Eddie assumed that Buck wouldn’t act any different around his colleagues.

Far from it!

“Eddie, my friend.”

Eddie nearly jumps when Hen and Chimney materialize next to him.

Speaking of…

“Hi,” he greets them.

“How’re you liking it thus far?”

“The detergents smell not as bad as some others do,” Eddie snorts. “But I’m pretty sure that’s not what you came here to ask me about.”

“Just so that you know, you can tell us anything,” Hen says in that mild tone of voice, though Eddie is pretty sure she only says it this way not to scare him away.

“You are looking for bribing material on Buck, I take?”

“We always appreciate it, but we are more like… trying to get up to speed. Until you came to the station, we didn’t even know he’d been fostered,” Hen answers.

“Or adopted,” Chimney adds.

“In Texas.”

Eddie chews on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, about that. So he actually found his sister?”

If seeing Buck nearly floored him, hearing about his sister was definitely not adding to Eddie’s calm.

“Yes, she’s my girlfriend. You’ll get to know her soon enough.”

There is a part in Eddie that’s very much relieved to hear that Buck found at least part of his family, but another part of him hurts at the news just as much. Because that means Buck likely learned some very uncomfortable truths about his past that won’t have added to the man’s confidence.

“Back in Texas, we knew nothing about where he came from, including whether he had siblings or not. There was an assumption, but no one could be sure.”

“How old were you by the time your grandmother fostered him?”

“I was eight years old.”

“Eight years old… Buck made it sound like he and Maddie were out of touch like, only by the time she got to know Doug.”

Eddie frowns. “Who’s Doug?”

“No one you want to know.” Chimney shakes his head.

Eddie shakes his head. All of this starts to make less and less sense. Why didn’t Buck tell them about any of this? Why didn’t he when he apparently found his sister? Why are they about as clueless as he is, even though they’ve been working side-by-side with him for how long now?

“We lost sight of each other when the Moores moved away from Texas. So they aren’t around anymore?”

Hen shrugs at that. “Let’s say we’ve never met them, never talked about them, or seen any pictures.”

“Kid arrived here with a travel bag and the will to become a firefighter,” Chimney adds.

Eddie can’t help but smile at that. “That sounds like him.”

“You sound pretty clueless actually, and not gonna lie, that is strangely reassuring,” Chimney snorts.

“I prepared for meeting many new people today. Not my best friend back from childhood.”

“Aw.” Hen clutches her hands in front of her chest.

“I just hope he’s not mad at me.” Eddie grimaces. There is something tugging at his heart, just thinking about it. A memory that goes way back in time. When he thought he’d messed it up with Buck forever and always, but he forgave quicker than Eddie could forgive himself.

“I don’t remember our Buckaroo being capable of keeping grudges for long.”

“Then that hasn’t changed at least,” Eddie sighs.

“I think you two should definitely get something to drink after work, reminiscence about the good old times. Catch up. Report back to us in the morning,” she says, her voice trailing off.

“You are aware that they are childhood friends.”

“But I can be far more intimidating.”

“I think getting something to drink and catch up is actually a good idea,” Eddie ponders. “So thanks.”

“You, I like.”

Eddie grins.

“You still missed a spot, though.”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. Buck made some good friends here, for what it seems. And he is more than glad for it. They can surely figure this all out.

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

Waking up this morning, Buck thought his biggest worry would be to sort himself out with regards to the newbie and his standing on the team as a result. While that remains true, he just didn't imagine for one hot second it may be Eddie of all people in the entire universe.

Eddie.

When Buck saw him at the station, he didn’t know how to breathe. Even though he hadn’t seen him in years, he knew instantly, only to know that he suddenly knew nothing anymore. Buck used to think he made his peace never seeing Eddie again after they moved away, but then Eddie was hugging him and all those things Buck made sure to bury deep in the ground started to crawl up through the dirt, scratching at a way too thin surface.

And now he is sitting at a bar, nursing his alcohol free beer – because he doesn’t drink when driving, he has to get people out of cars thanks to that behavior way too often, thank you very much. He is at a bar. With Eddie. His Eddie. Because Eddie invited him to get a beer after the shift, and Buck didn’t know how to say no.

Story of my life, isn’t it?

“… I don’t even know where to begin,” Buck admits after a while of awkward silence spreading between them, wherein both men just started peeling the label off of their bottles of beer.

“Same. I mean, you got a sister.”

“Yeah, ugh, I would have told you that, but Chim is still over the moon with her, so of course he mentioned her before I could. They are cute together, but at the disgusting kind of stage,” Buck ponders.

“I’m just so happy for you that you found your family, Buck.”

He manages a feeble smile. Because Buck knows that Eddie means it, understands it perhaps better than most. Because he had to deal with it growing up, had to deal with Buck dealing it growing up.

“I didn’t really find Maddie. We just… happened to meet again. Like us two did today.”

Eddie blinks at him. “Really?”

Buck nods his head. The universe always had the strangest kind of humor when it came to him.

“She’s a dispatcher now. We talked over dispatch for a while, not knowing who we are to each other. We decided to hang out. As friends. She didn’t know people in the city after she moved there only recently, so we also went to a pub and… we started to talk.”

Déjà-vu much, huh?

“Over time, I told her some stuff about my past and, well, Maddie realized that the timing seemed oddly familiar to the brother she thought had died,” Buck continues. “DNA test confirmed it.”

“I was wondering about that,” Eddie sighs, still trying to process that input for what it seems. “I mean, I really put my foot in it, just blurting out with this.”

Buck holds up his hands. “Eddie, no. You had any reason to believe I had told them. I suppose I’ve been blowing this up out of proportions anyway, so this is really just on me.”

“It’s your choice what you want to share with people about yourself, Buck.”

Buck blinks. Sometimes, he forgets how wise Eddie used to be already at a young age. He was also a dumbass a lot of times, but when it came to talking about Buck’s feelings instead of his own, the guy always knew how to make sense of the chaos and make Buck feel like his feelings weren’t just a tedious affair best ripped off like band-aids.

Eddie always understood Buck, even when he couldn’t understand himself. And Buck wants to think that the same was true the other way around, for as long as it lasted.

“Thanks.”

Eddie smiles at him, sipping from his beer.

“Speaking of, thanks to Maddie I now know my official name,” Buck continues, doing his best to sound jovial. “Evan Buckley.”

“Buck-ley. Well, that explains how you got the name,” Eddie ponders, before tilting his head to the side with a cocked eyebrow. “So do I call you Evan from now on?”

“If you want me to call you Edmundo?”

Eddie narrows his eyes at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Buck sniggers. “You should know better than to tempt me.”

“Evan.”

“Edmundo.”

“This sounds all kinds of wrong,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “For me, you can only ever be Buck.”

“Which is convenient, because I can only be Buck.”

There was a brief moment in time when Buck considered changing his name, taking on that identity, the one intended. In the end, he dropped the idea for what he hopes to be for good. He doesn’t know who this Evan Buckley was or what he’d be now. He knows what Buck was like growing up. He knows what the guy is up to these days. And while they have their qualms, he’s mostly at peace with Buck.

Even a name tag doesn't change a thing about it.

Because he’s Buck. And thankfully, Eddie sees it the same way. So maybe he’s not entirely crazy for holding on to that, however schizophrenic it may be in the end.

“Anyway, part of the reason why I managed not to let anyone in on this is that Maddie agreed to run with not mentioning it. We just stuck to the part where we lost sight of each other and found one another again when anyone asked. And until now, no one really questioned the timeline.”

“And no one ever made the connection between Buckley and Buck?” Eddie asks.

Buck shakes his head. “Maddie’s married name is Kendall. She considered changing it back to Buckley after she broke up with her scumbag husband. But when she found out what kind of scumbags our parents are, it was out the window. So no one had reason to question the difference in names and just assumed that Maddie’s birth name was Moore, too.”

“I take that there is no good explanation as to how you ended up in Texas, then,” Eddie sighs. Buck can tell that he’s trying to sound casual, soft, but the white-knuckled grip on the beer bottle is an entirely different story.

“No, not really. As far as we understand it, our parents moved across state borders under the pretense to get treatment for me. Then they just dropped me at a fire station and drove back. They told Maddie I died.”

“Why would they do that? Why would anyone’s parents…?” Eddie shakes his head, disbelief settling in. Buck knows the feeling oh too well. When he found out, it didn’t make sense to him at all. But as more details were added, the clearer the bigger picture became, though it turned none the brighter.

Buck looks around, just to be sure none of the 118 was sent here to spy on them. Once he is sure there is really just them, Buck hunches forward in his seat.

“Well, I was a big, fat disappointment, I guess. They had me to save their oldest son, Daniel. He had juvenile leukemia. I was… I was a savior baby. Just that… ugh, I didn’t save him. My guessing is that they never wanted me, so they gave me away after Daniel died. I was just there for spare parts anyway.”

Buck suddenly feels something cold in his neck, only to realize it’s Eddie’s hand gently squeezing it. Buck tenses for a moment, then eases to the familiarity of the touch, suppressing the urge to lean into it like he used to.

“I’m so sorry. I would’ve hoped for something else to come out of this.”

Buck manages a feeble smile. “It’s fine. I got a sister now I never expected to find. That’s great. Over the moon kinda great. And now I also ran back into you, too. So I’m one lucky bastard after all.”

Eddie’s hand lingers for a while, no words spoken and yet all is said between them. And how much Buck missed that. Not having to say things for them to be understood.

Eventually, Eddie’s hand falls on his shoulder, giving it a light pat before returning to his beer. “So we’re still friends after I spilled to your colleagues?”

“I didn’t stop being your friend after you got so mad for me saying that you couldn’t bake for shit, so you covered a balloon stuck to a cardboard box in frosting and told me you’d baked a cake and I cut the thing only for it to explode in my face.”

“To this day one of my proudest achievements when it comes to pranks,” Eddie snorts, breaking out laughing at the memory.

Buck can’t help but laugh along. Many of those memories got stuffed away alongside the ones he’d buried in the ground. He had no reason to unearth them because he chose not to tell anyone. But with Eddie, those things come back to light and they shimmer like gold, even after all those years of packing on dust.

“Laugh it up all you want, I got back at you eventually.”

“Don’t remind me,” Eddie groans. “I got grounded for a month because you led my parents to believe I’d be stupid enough to have a folder for porn on the family’s computer and made a message pop up every time that the folder was overloaded and created a system error.”

“Yeah. That was a masterpiece,” Buck sniggers. “But anyway. If that didn’t cancel our friendship, I think we’re fairly good with all this here.”

“Then I’m glad. When you fled the scene, I got kind of worried.”

Buck shrugs. “You know me. I’m a whirlwind of emotions, so I thought it’d be best if I took the time to cool down.”

“That was definitely not how you went about it before,” Eddie argues.

And Buck can’t argue with that. Back in the day, Buck just let the storms rage, never minding the consequences. On the job, that’s still how he rolls, but it was also how he talked, how he presented himself. After he got to meet the Diaz family, he stopped hiding a lot of things. He screamed when he felt like screaming and he cried when he was sad. He laughed when he was happy. And sometimes he even cried because he was that happy, but he learned that this was okay. Abuela always told him this and he took it to heart.

At least for as long as I could.

“Which is why I’m working on it. But anyway! Enough of me. Tell me about you. How long have you been in L.A.? What got you here?” Buck asks. Judging by the look on Eddie’s face, his transition of topics is not nearly as smooth as he’d want it to be, but Eddie rolls with it anyway.

“I moved here only shortly, for the job,” he says. “Before that, I was working some odd jobs. Before that, Afghanistan.”

Buck winces. “Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of describing it. After I came back home injured, I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to set priorities differently, and somehow… I ended up in L.A.”

“Fresh start.” Buck nods his head. There is still so much to unravel in just those few sentences. Afghanistan. Injury. Priorities. Eddie tends to hide a lot more in his words, even more so when they are scarce. But for what it seems, he will now get the time to dig deeper. Because that is what Buck knows someone has to do in order to understand someone like Eddie Diaz.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I get that feeling,” Buck says. “Los Angeles is great for that, worked out for Maddie and me, too.”

“We’ll have to drink a lot of beers to catch up on all those years we didn’t hear from each other to wind up having a fresh start in the same city.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Eddie wants to say something, but then his phone vibrates. “Sorry about that.”

Buck holds up his hands. “It’s fine.”

Eddie takes out his phone and checks his messages. Buck can see the instant shift in the other man’s demeanor. He knows that change like the back of his hand, even with years between where they parted ways and now crossed them again. Eddie’s shutting down.

“Hey, uhm, sorry, I gotta head out. It’s urgent,” he says, grabbing his wallet, clearly embarrassed and beat-up for having to leave so suddenly.

Some things don’t change, do they?

“Hey, it’s fine, man. We, ugh, we are stuck together now anyway, right? We’ll find enough time to catch up. It’s a date, after all,” Buck assures him. “Also, you’re not paying for the beer, unless you wanna pick a fight with me. Just go.”

Eddie smiles at him wryly. “Thanks. I’ll pay next round?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Now off you go.”

“Sorry another time. I really gotta…”

“See you at work!”

“See ya!”

Buck manages to keep up the smile until the door shuts behind Eddie. His shoulders drop and he sucks in a deep breath. He pays for the beers and nearly flies out the door.

He makes for his car and climbs in. Buck realizes only now how badly his hands are shaking. Struggling for breath, he takes out his wallet again and fishes out that one crumpled piece of the past he carries with him whenever he’s not on the job, so to be sure it doesn’t get further damage.

Buck unfolds the faded photograph with shaky hands and presses it against his mouth, breathing hard against it. The tears keep coming, no matter how hard he tries to stop them. They are happy and sad. Desperate and relieved. Everything and nothing. And all that at the same time.

Eddie is back.

Eddie is back in his life, just like that, after the years it took him to accept he’d never see him again. That he’d moved on as he should have.

How do you rip off the band-aid or duct tape for that?

Or maybe that’s just the universe telling him that some things really can’t be fixed.

Because apparently, the universe is still mocking him.

#buddie #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #buddie fanfic #fanfic #snippet #y'all let me in and now I'm making y'all miserable #:)#long ass snippets that pester me and now you too #by a non-native no less #bon appétit

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