Mirimim - M

wayfaring stranger | prologue | rhett abbott x reader

Next Chapter | Masterlist

synopsis: betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

warnings: 18+, minors dni. Will be smut, violence and swearing

…

Rhett’s been saying that he’s going to get out of here for about as long as he can remember. Even before he was angry enough to say it out loud, the promise had been scrawled with adolescent lettering, held within the pages of a leather bound journal that had been a gift from his grandfather.

There were days that Rhett really meant it. Some days he meant it more than others. Some days, it was more of an affirmation than a plan. Leaving the courthouse on that day in April, looking his childhood sweetheart in the eye and telling her that he wasn’t coming back — that seemed more binding than any of the words he had told her before.

The sign looked bigger in his dreams. The Welcome to Wyoming, Forever West, planted in the dirt on the border of Montana — when Rhett had dreamed about covering it in dirt as it grew smaller in his rear view mirror, it had looked bigger. It had meant more.

His blue eyes watch the sign grow smaller. The road behind him isn’t empty like it always is in his dreams. There’s a minivan behind him, the tired brunette behind the wheel is bickering with a child in the backseat. Behind her, a truck that doesn’t look all that different from Rhett’s. He wonders if their journey is the same as his. He’s certain it’s not.

It’s a Wednesday when Rhett leaves. He doesn’t say a damn word to anyone other than Maria, they’ll just try to ask him to stay. The road behind him isn’t empty, and neither is the road ahead of him. It’s different than in his dreams, but not in a bad way.

Truthfully, it’s like a pinch to remind him that he’s actually awake. That he did it.

Radio off, everything he owns on the bench beside him.

In his dreams, Rhett makes it further. Drives until he hits the horizon and then some. On that Wednesday, he drives until he can barely keep his eyes open and he’s got a cramp in his calf from the stiff clutch pedal in his old truck. He doesn’t quite hit the horizon, but the glowing neon of a faded motel sign seems far enough there and then.

He has some money with him. It’ll get him where he needs to go, wherever that is. Winnings from bull riding and wages from helping out on neighboring ranches. What his father had paid him usually hadn’t ever stretched far enough to make it into the savings.

Rhett pays for a room for the night, though this is the kind of establishment that’s used to more of an hourly rate. He drops his bags onto the spare bed and sits down on the one that’ll be his for the night.

He’s a couple hundred miles in, near Richfield according to the last sign before he took his exit. Idaho. He’s been here a few times before. Riding competitions, auctions and stuff. It’s never made too much of an impression before and it doesn’t on that Wednesday night.

There’s nothing on TV, Rhett hadn’t thought to bring a book when he was packing in the middle of the night. After about an hour, Rhett can’t stand the sound of his own thoughts any longer. He grabs his coat and heads out, walking along the roadside for a bit until he’s at a bar off the side of the road.

Just another lonely stranger, sitting at a barstool. He considers tequila. After the couple of weeks he has had, he could do with something strong. But, he isn’t far enough — he still feels that pull, telling him to go home and won’t risk being too hungover to drive far enough to shake that feeling tomorrow.

In lieu of tequila, Rhett finds it’s warmth elsewhere. After a couple of beers, Rhett settles out his tab. Pleased with his manners and intrigued by how he teeters on the edge of kicked puppy and mysterious outlaw, the pretty girl behind the bar tells him her shift’s almost over.

Always a gentleman, Rhett makes sure she has someone to walk her to her car once she’s ready to go. It’s not his fault that they wind up walking a little bit past her car. It’s her hand that dips into his front pocket and retrieves his motel room key — her lips that drag along his throat, her hand that curls into his hair.

She kisses him goodbye the next morning. He isn’t sure how he feels about it, but her name plays on his mind through the morning and into the afternoon. Carrying with him through Idaho and into Oregon.

It’s a couple of days of that. Driving around, learning new names between thin motel sheets, forgetting them by sundown the next day.

Rhett’s mother always had it in her head that he was a womaniser. He isn’t sure where she got it from, considering that he didn’t have his first kiss until he already had his driver’s license.

The hard part is, Rhett hadn’t ever really known enough about himself to disagree with her. She raised him, saw the intricacies of his growing mind — if that’s what she said he was, then it must’ve been true. So, Rhett let it grow to be true.

He isn’t necessarily proud of it. But, he is somewhat proud of the manner in which he does it. He’s never resorted to a sleazy pick-up line or a bold-faced lie to get a woman into his bed. He’s quiet enough to be mysterious without being mysterious enough to be unapproachable. Handsome enough but not too put together.

It’s been four days since Rhett left Wyoming when he realises that yesterday, he had turned back around. He’s on the cusp of Montana, headed back the way he came.

He had stopped feeling the pull a day or so ago, because he had already turned back towards it. He’s pulled off to the side of Route 212 in the parking lot of a diner, his head in his hands.

This had been predicted. It had been Cecelia’s go to answer every time Rhett had threaten to leave. Go on then, I’ll be here when you get back. She hadn’t meant it with spite, but those words had always struck Rhett like venom. When you get back, because she was so confident that he would.

He hadn’t ever let her explain whether she thought that he’d be back because he belonged there or because she thought he just couldn’t make it on his own.

Either way, she’s wrong.

Rhett just needs a destination — an end goal. After five days of driving through the West, he feels scattered, and it’s just going to get worse. It was kind of stupid, to pack up and leave without anywhere to go.

That’s all he has to do — figure out where he’s going.

He grabs his baseball cap from beside him on the truck bench and secures it over his messy hair, leaving the truck in its space as he heads into the almost empty diner.

He takes a seat up by the counter and orders a coffee from the polite, young waitress standing behind the counter. He probably should eat too, he just can’t stand the thought of more diner food. It takes him a while, but he orders a sandwich finally. It’s the only thing on the menu that contains a vegetable and his body’s going to give out if it doesn’t get one of those soon.

With no one here now to tell him not to play with his food, Rhett sits distracted. Under fluorescent light, calm country playing over a radio in the kitchen, he takes his time to look around him as he picks at his sandwich.

There’s a pinboard that sits behind the counter. It’s partially blocked by the pale blue uniform shirt of the waitress as she texts on her phone, but Rhett can still see most of it.

Missing people, things for sale, help wanted signs — there’s a mixture of stuff on there. There’s a piece of yellow card that stands out. Ranch Hands Wanted. The Blue Mountain Ranch, MT.

It’s a stupider idea than driving aimlessly around the country, falling right back into what he’s running away from. Still, his mouth makes the decision before his head is on board.

“‘Scuse me,” Rhett’s voice gruff from not speaking much, he quietly clears his throat and brings his coffee cup closer to him. The waitress turns towards him and raises her eyebrows, a polite smile on her lips. “Could I see that notice, please?”

A quick glance behind her to see which one he’s talking about, and then she’s looking at him dubiously. Her smile grows with intrigue. Rhett swallows, watching as the unpins the yellow paper from the board and sets it down on the counter in front of him.

He turns his gaze down and starts to read through the desired skills. All stuff that he’s been doing since he was a kid. Herding cattle, fixing fences. Nothing new except the scenery.

“Thinking of joining the Mountain?” She asks. Rhett looks up at her over the brim of his baseball cap. She’s resting both hands on the counter and leaning forwards slightly, interested.

“Does that sound like a bad idea?” He asks in response, setting the paper down on the countertop beside his coffee. He leans back in his seat and parts his knees. She looks him up and down, pink lips quirking slightly at the edges.

Handsome guy like him, hands that are clearly used to some dirty work — Lena’s got a very good friend on that ranch that could do with a pick me up.

She gives her head a soft shake, “Actually, I think you’d fit right in.”

Rhett hums. He bites the inside of his cheek as he looks down at the printed information. Somewhere to lay low until he’s got a destination in mind doesn’t sound too bad. As long as he’s not back there, it doesn’t matter.

---

facing the music

pairing: joel miller x reader (pairing from the soccer parents au, but can be read as a stand-alone)

summary: joel’s got a secret. you’re determined to figure it out. 

word count: 4.4k

warnings: mentions of cheating and insecurities around cheating (but no actual cheating), joel is being a little suspicious, joel in his musician era, a bit of arguing, angst, fluffy at the end, au: no apocalypse, very lightly edited

author’s note: thank you all so much for 2k followers!! i hope you enjoy this fic! comments and feedback are always appreciated :)

Lees verder

looking delicious

A FRESH START [20]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: description of injuries, language, spoilers for S3 The Mandalorian, mentions of death experiences, anxiety, PTSD references

Word Count: 5,066

Updates every Thursday

#20: SHORT STICK BEARS HIS WRATH

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"you can't heal if you pretend you're not hurt." -aliza grace

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Grogu had a habit of making friends wherever he went. So, it didn’t surprise Din to see that a bulk of Ari’s crew were gushing over his son and offering him different things to play with. After parking the N1 and walking to the address Ari messaged him, what looked like an old fighting gym, he entered to see a small group of people surrounding Grogu who stood on the table and babbled. They listened intently, cooed back to him, and offered him a variety of objects to either eat or play with.

Din’s eyes landed on Ari who was sitting in a desk chair, feet kicked up and ankles crossed, while frowning at the sight. When her gaze drifted toward him she blew out an annoyed breath of air. “Finally. Can you please take your son and go? It seems while he’s around my crew is,” Ari turned to yell out the next words at the people surrounding Grogu, “Incapable of doing their kriffing jobs!”

“The stressors of running a criminal empire.” Din snorted.

“Aw, you think my little show is an empire?” Ari grinned impishly. “That’s cute. I appreciate it, but I don’t think I’ve reached that level of notoriety yet.”

“Yeah, well, I have faith in you.”

Din knew her main skill set was in smuggling. He assumed that’s what she was still doing, just branching out and roping others in. Still, Din wasn’t too worried about breaking up her party or shining a spotlight down on her. Of all the evil Din had seen in the galaxy, Ari was harmless. Well, mostly harmless.

“Hey boss, can we keep it?” A large man turned and pointed to Grogu who had his hands up in the air as he babbled about a story.

“Him, you idiot.” Ari corrected. “It’s Mando’s son.”

“Oh, sorry.” The man replied. “Can we keep him?”

“See what I mean? Useless.” Ari scoffed. Din called out for Grogu who took the time to gather up all the snacks being offered to him then jumped into his pram to drift over. Ari crossed her arms and snapped for the others to get back to their jobs. They gradually drifted away. She looked at him. “So? How’s the doc?”

Din tilted his head. “Left him thirty minutes outside the city to crawl back.”

“That all?”

“I may have…” Din chose his words carefully. “Stacked the odds against him.” Ari chuckled in amusement and he nodded. “I need you to keep an eye on that for me.”

“How so?”

“Make sure there’s a corpse, and if there isn’t,” Din shrugged nonchalantly, “Make one.”

The request rolled off his tongue as if he were in Nevarro going to his neighbor’s house to ask for some sugar. Din saw no issue in his request. If he wasn’t on such a time crunch in his eagerness to return to you then he’d stick around and double check for himself. 

Ari nodded. “Alright. I’m counting that as two favors now though. So, you owe me.” Din dragged his helmeted gaze to look at her and raised an eyebrow in skepticism as if she’d be able to see. Ari read the tone enough to snicker. “Fine. Fine. We’re even then.”

“Deal.”

“So,” Ari whistled, “If you and your ‘not wife’ ever tie the knot will I get invited to the wedding? Do Mandalorians have weddings?” 

“Stop talking.” Din shook his head and turned to leave. He chuckled under his breath. Grogu followed after him⏤ the child’s cheeks full of some local dessert. Great, now he’d be bouncing around the cockpit of the N1 for Maker knows how long.

Ari called a good-bye after him as he left. “Nice seeing you too, Mando! Safe travels!”

Nima told you not to freak out. Her exact words had been, ‘Alright, everything is okay and you are safe and it’s all going to be fine but you need to know this’. Your first horrific thought was that the news would somehow involve your boys. It had been a knee jerk fear that filled your entire soul with dread. Then Nima followed it up with, ‘Kurt’s trial was put on hold’.

And, as wild as it was, you felt relief. That had been your initial reaction. Before Nevarro, hearing those words would have made you immediately throw up. But in this situation, all you could think was how grateful you were that the bad news didn’t involve Din or Grogu.

“I’m sorry.” Nima murmured and you could see how devastated she was to share this news with you. She was the kind of person who felt every emotion she had so deeply. It’s why she was so lively and bubbly as her day to day happiness shined through. However, in moments like this, it broke your heart to see her so empathetic to your own pain. “I went back and forth on telling you, but you made me swear to update you on any news I thought was important and this seemed important. Plus, I didn’t want you to hear on accident from somewhere else or⏤”

“Nima.” You reached out to squeeze her arm and gave her a smile. “It’s okay. Thank you for telling me.” The longer the news lingered in your mind the more it began to unravel your sense of peace. “What happened? Do we know why?”

She shook her head. “They won’t report it yet. Just that it’s delayed.”

Could trials be delayed right in the middle of it? You didn’t know a lot about law or the system surrounding it. Nima was rambling about something or another, trying to bring you comfort, but your thoughts drifted away. You wished Din were here. That wasn’t a surprising thought. Every single day since they left, multiple times a day really, you’d see something or think of something that made you crave their presence more than the baseline. Just yesterday you bought a bag of Grogu’s favorite blue cookies from the sandwich shop just for the hell of it. 

You heard your name, mumbled in concern, and your focus snapped back to Nima who was staring at you as if she was waiting for you to crumble. Slowly, you could feel the edges of your nerves beginning to fray, but that’s what work was for right? Distract you from all those dangerous thoughts and fears.

“Seriously. I am okay.” You reassured her once more. “This stays between us, right?”

“Of course.”

Your day carried on as if the news hadn't been shared with you. It would be the one day you wanted to keep busy that all of Nevarro decided to be the picture perfect definition of health. It was in part due to the droid being repaired which took off a lot of lower level urgent cases rather than emergent and it even saw some people with active conditions routinely. That would be it's primary purpose until the new guy that Karga hired eventually got out here.

When you went home for the night, you had only been moving around the kitchen for a few minutes, getting dinner ready, when your com rang for a holocall. You set your armband on the island counter to stand and answer. Grogu’s face immediately filled the entire screen with a loud ‘Ma!’ which pulled a laugh out of you. You needed that. 

“Grogu, share.” Din replied though you could only barely see him behind Grogu’s face.

“No.” Grogu replied simply before he began to babble about his day. He was getting better at expressing himself every day and you were picking up on words like ‘new friends’, ‘more food’, and even something that sounded like he was trying to tell you there was someone he didn’t like. Din sighed loudly, but you could hear the amusement in his tone.

“Uh huh.” You nodded your head, giving the little green boy your full attention, “Tell Ma all about it, baby.” It wasn’t until a solid five to ten minutes later that Grogu was appeased with the amount of attention from you that he was willing to share with his father. He wiggled out of the camera’s space so you could actually see Din, and the boy waved with a quick ‘Love Ma!’. You actually felt your heart tighten in your chest. “Love you too, baby.”

Grogu crawled away, probably to stir up trouble where he could find it on the small ship, and you bit back tears. The longer you sat with the news about Kurt the more you felt wired and anxious. Getting to talk to Grogu and see the cheerful boy made a world of difference.

“Mama’s boy.” You heard Din mutter with a chuckle while watching Grogu crawl away to wherever he went. His gaze quickly focused back on you and he let out a soft sigh. “Ner kar’ta. How was your day?”

“It was fine.” You leaned against the counter.

For the next half hour, you and Din talked about anything and everything. He told you about how the rest of his trip on that Outer Rim planet went, and he told you he dealt with Daelar. Din didn’t give you details on the specific, but you found that you didn’t really need them. You didn’t really care. Then you told him about your day, but gradually the two of you got off topic and trailed on about other things. Din was speaking, you could hear the sound of his comforting voice, but you found yourself accidentally zoning out. Your mind not falling into a specific thought, but just drifting away. It wasn’t until the third time that Din called out to you that you realized he had been doing so in the first place.

“Hm? Sorry.” You shook your head.

Even through a holocall, halfway across the galaxy, you could see the worry that Din wore. He had shifted forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, and there was a tension in his shoulders. If that didn’t give him away then the tilt in his head and the tone of his voice did. “What’s wrong? You’re troubled.” He didn’t ask if you were troubled. He just knew you were. “Tell me. Are you okay?”

“I am. I promise.” You replied. The last thing you wanted to do was worry him. Knowing Din, if you told him about Kurt he would do something drastic like immediately come back to Nevarro. Which, on one hand, was tempting, but it would just mean he’d need to leave again. Plus, you knew how important this mission was to him. You were not going to intercede with your own issues and drama. So, you decided on a lie of omission. “This afternoon there had been a patient with a chronic illness I didn’t remember much of. He was also Rodian and their anatomy is a blur to me. So, it was a lot of research and just working on the fly and I guess my brain just won’t let it go. I’m second guessing myself.”

Din’s entire body relaxed, but he stayed leaned over so he was closer to the camera⏤ closer to you. “Don’t. You’re incredible at what you do and immensely clever when you need to think on the spot.” You felt your cheeks warm at his blatant complements. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the greatest physician in the galaxy.”

You snorted. “Right. And that’s your totally unbiased opinion.” Din nodded. “All that medical knowledge you have makes you an expert in that decision.”

“I have twenty plus years of working a cautery, thank you.” Din replied with a chuckle.

“Yes. Obviously, so qualified.”

“Fine.” Din’s voice took a teasing edge. “You’re the best physician in all of Nevarro. Is that better?”

You let out a loud laugh and just as it had eased your anxious heart with Grogu, Din settled your soul as well.  Din was immensely proud of himself. You could see the smug air about him even through the holocall. When your laughter died down, you rested your chin on your hand to hold up your head.

“I miss you.” You mumbled.

Din sighed. “I miss you too, ner kar’ta. But it won’t be much longer.” You perked up. “I am stopping to speak to an…old friend.” The way he said the words made you doubt that this person was an actual friend⏤ or that the relationship was tumultuous at best. “Then on to Mandalore.”

A soft smile filled your features at the news. 

“Ma! Ma!” Grogu was yelling again as he tried to get into the picture.

Din scooped the boy up to set him on his laugh and playfully scolded. “You had your turn, ad’ika. It’s my turn with Ma.”

“No. Me.” Grogu argued.

You watched in amusement as Din continued to tease Grogu into a silly argument on who got to have your attention. Maker, you needed them back soon.

Ever since Nima shared the news about Kurt, nightmares plagued you. It was an odd mix of past and future. Some nights Kurt would be carving into you, telling you that you didn’t deserve to live, and other nights you’d have to watch helplessly as he hurt Din and Grogu.

You preferred the nights where Kurt made you bleed.

That added to the fact that while on Mandalore Din was not going to be able to call you due to interference really distracted you. Sleep deprived and anxiety riddled while working in a clinic with medical tools was not the ideal combination. The bacta tank needed refreshing in case of emergencies and during a quiet moment in the office you had told Aayla you planned to get it done. It was dirty work, cleaning the bacta filters, but you didn’t mind it. You hoped forward motion, keeping yourself busy, would keep you awake and sane.

So, when your hand slipped on the mechanism, causing the thick filter door to slam shut on your hand, it had been entirely your own fault.

"Fuck!" You screamed in agony as you felt the bones in your fingers snap. Blinded by the panic, your natural instinct was to try to pull your hand out, but the door was closed too tight for it to budge. All it did was send sharp, lightning strikes of pain shooting up your arm.

Aayla was by your side in an instant and she was shouting commands or reassurances at you, but your mind was in a fog. Maybe it was the pain or the exhaustion, but your body slumped forward onto the bacta tank as your vision went black.

It came back seconds later, but you didn’t feel the same. Rather than pain, you felt the telltale sign of something running through your veins to bring you relief. You were also now lying on a cot rather than standing over the bacta tank.

“What are we supposed to do when the doctor needs a doctor?” Mayfeld scoffed. You couldn't see him from where you laid, but his voice was easily recognizable. So was Vanth’s who replied.

“Use the droid.”

“The droid? That’s your solution? Let the kriffing droid work on the woman Mando is head over heels for?” Mayfeld cried. “He’s better about the damn things, but if he heard about this he’d come back to Nevarro just to kill us. Then he’d somehow save our asses from the brink of death just so he can kill us again.” 

You groaned and all your words came out groggily, “Stop talking. Both of you.” There was the sound of steps and suddenly it was Vanth’s face in your vision grinning down at you. “Why are you in here again?”

“Well, because the doc went and got her hand jammed up in some machinery.” Vanth replied. His words reminded you of the injury and you lifted your left hand to see a splint wrapped around your last three fingers. The ring finger was the worst, but all three were discolored and swollen. Vanth’s teasing tone switched to sincerity. “How’re you feeling, little lady?”

“Drugged.” You complained and rubbed your face with your good hand. The lack of pain was nice, but you hated how certain strong medications could make you feel.

“Yeah,” Mayfeld chimed, “That’s the e-bacta shot we gave you.”

“E-bacta??” You scoffed. “Where the hell did you get the e-bacta and why did you bring it into my clinic? That shit is illegal for a reason.” This version of bacta was so potent and strong that it was only one step down from spice, really. Addictive as hell and hard to keep from degrading. “Why did you do that?”

Vanth pointed at your broken hand. “Because that looks kriffing miserable. We’d put you in the tank altogether just to be cautious but we had to break the damn thing to get you unlodged from it.”

“Shit.” You forced yourself to sit up and the room spun. Both men reached out to steady you. “The tank is broken??”

Mayfeld snorted. “Yeah, and so is your hand. Focus on that instead.”

You rubbed your face in a poor attempt to gain some clarity. “Please tell me no one told Mando.”

Maybe he’d still be on Mandalore and there’d be no service for someone to tell him you got hurt. This was just like a few days ago when you learned about Kurt. You couldn’t make Din worry. He needed to focus on his own task and not be thinking about you.

“Told Mando?” Mayfeld cried. “Nobody wants to make the call and tell the indestructible tin can that we let his girl get hurt.”

Vanth shrugged. “We were gonna draw straws later. Us, Karga, Nima, Peli. Short stick has to bear his wrath.” He grinned at you. “But now that you’re up and talking, little lady, looks like we don’t need to do that.”

Mayfeld nodded and pointed at the man. “Yeah, good point. She should tell him. He won’t kill her.”

“Either stop talking or give me more e-bacta.” You grumbled.

Ignoring the well meaning but overbearing men, you cradled your broken hand in your lap. The splint on your hand was decent. You’d need something more permanent, but for a patch job it was solid. The sound of doors sliding open made you glance up to see Aayla fluttering in. She put her hands on her hips with a solid attempt of intimidation.

“I already chased out Nima. Now you two, as well?” 

The men glanced at you and you tilted your head and added. “Go. Don’t tell Mando.” As they neared the door you called out one last time. “And…thanks, guys.”

You did appreciate them and how much they cared. Even if some of that caring just came from a healthy fear of Din. Not that you thought Din would actually hurt either man. They were friends and this had very clearly been your fault.

“Did you do this?” You pointed to your hand and Aayla nodded with a sheepish grin. “It’s good. It’s really good, Aayla.” The woman beamed at your praise and you chuckled. “Did you get any scans yet?”

“Yes. We did.” She brought over a datapad and opened up the program that held all the imaging. You took it from her to look over your own scans and winced. Dank farrik. Hairline fractures on your pinky and middle finger, and an actual break in your ring finger. No wonder you blacked out. “Do we need to get you to a facility? Does your finger need surgical correction?”

You praised her line of thought then shook her head. “The fracture will heal itself once splinted. In order to test the tendons I need the swelling to go down just a bit so I can try moving my finger.”

Aayla stepped away and then returned with a cream and some ice. She got you situated on the cot and lifted the bed so you could lay back without being entirely flat. She was going to be a good doctor one day. After she went through school and all that. You leaned your head against the pillow and shut your eyes. It would be best for you to get some solid shut eye while the e-bacta was in your system. 

Since reaching Mandalore, everything had happened fast. Back to back to back, Din had what should have been considered one of the worst days of his life. Nearly dying three times qualified as a terrible day. However, Din was not dead. More than just not dead, he was redeemed. 

Din Djarin was no longer an Apostate.

He was Mandalorian once more.

That alone could make this a wonderful day, but the knowledge that this meant he could proceed in pursuing you was overwhelming. If he thought about it for too long it’d send him to his knees. The first thing he wanted to do was call you, but that plan was derailed when Imps bombed Bo Katan’s home. Considering the woman had saved his life, and watched Grogu when he was unable, the least he could do was get her to safety. Maybe the covert wasn’t the best place for Bo Katan Kryze, but Din needed to go there anyway so why not use it as a shelter.

As Nima liked to say: two porgs, one blaster.

When everything had settled, the first thing he did was find a quiet spot to call you. Grogu was passed out in his arms and Bo Katan was sitting not too far away in contemplation.

“You alright?” Din questioned.

Bo hummed. “Suppose so. Not how I expected this day to go, but…”

“I’m sorry. About your home.” 

“...Thank you.” Bo said after a beat of hesitation.

Din could tell she was still in distress. Lost in her thoughts. He could’ve pressed further, attempt to help her some more, but it would have to wait. If Din didn’t talk to you right now he’d burst. The excitement of being redeemed mingled with the knowledge that for a brief moment today he thought everything had been over. 

He activated the holocall and leaned against the cave wall. 

When your face appeared on the screen, Din sighed in relief. Being trapped on Mandalore, sending Grogu away, your face had been the last one he thought of. “Ner kar’ta.” He breathed out. Din didn’t even care that Bo was only a few feet away and able to hear his entire conversation. “You are…”

He was going to call her a sight for sore eyes, but you looked more than exhausted. Something was wrong. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes and you didn’t have that same glow that Din admired. Before he could question, you spoke, “You can call! That means you’re not on Mandalore anymore, right? How’d it go?”

“I am redeemed.” Din said with pride and despite how tired you look the smile you wore brightened in excitement. You cried out about how happy you were for him and how proud and how much you missed him and couldn’t wait to see him. Hearing that praise from you was somehow better than hearing the Armorer confirm he was no longer an Apostate. Din shook his head, deciding to steer right back to his concern, “You look terrible, ner kar’ta.”

You forced a chuckle. “Exactly what a girl wants to hear.”

“You are the most stunning woman I have ever known, and every day I get to see you, bask in your beauty,  is a blessing I am undeserving of.” Din said sincerely and he watched your face twist in mild embarrassment. Your smile turning cute and sheepish. He grew serious once more. “But right now, you look ill. Hurt. So I will ask again," Din shook his head, "What. Is. Going. On?”

You twisted your lips, weighing pros and cons, and then with a sigh you lifted your right hand so it came into the screen’s view. Din’s eyes widened at the swollen and discolored look of your fingers wrapped in a makeshift split. 

“Me’bana!? Cuyir gar o'r aaray??” Din barked. Grogu stirred briefly in his arms. “Pehea rucuyir gar shupur'yc!?”

“I don’t speak Mando’a, honey.” You sighed with a small amused smile.

If Din wasn’t so caught off guard and worried about the state of your hand, the nickname that fell from your lips so easily would have made him flush in warmth. Din shook his head. “Are you alright?? What happened?”

“It was stupid.” You shook your head. “Cleaning the bacta tank, I slipped up. Got my hand caught in the filter door.” That wasn’t like you. Typically, you were very cautious and careful with your work. “It looks worse than it actually is, I swear. The swelling has gone down a lot.”

Din narrowed his eyes at your wording. “How much time has passed? When did this happen, ner kar’ta?”

“...Yesterday?” You said it like it was a question.

“Ner kar’ta.”

“Yesterday morning.” You confirmed sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were on Mandalore. No service.”

Din tilted his head, “You tried to hide it at the start of this conversation. If I didn’t press, would you have told me about your accident?” You pressed your lips together and winced. Din blew out a breath of air. “Dank farrik. Ner kar’ta…” 

“I didn’t want to worry you.” You said softly with a frown.

Din shook his head again, keeping his voice firm. “I need to know these things.” The thought that you were injured was staggering, but knowing you could be hurt and keep it from him? All he wanted in life was to protect you. Take care of you. “You need to tell me⏤”

“Why?” Bo suddenly called out loud enough that your face morphed into confusion at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “Did you tell her about how you nearly died three times today?”

Din flinched and your jaw popped open. The exhaustion seemed to be wiped away and replaced with a mix of anger and shock. “You what!?” Din began to speak but you cut him off. “You nearly died today!? Din! What the hell is the mystery voice talking about!?”

“Well, it wasn’t⏤”

“You were gonna scold me about my broken hand and not mention multiple near death experiences??” Din winced. That was a fair point. He didn’t see it from that side. The sight of your discolored and swollen digits had blinded him about every other detail of the day. “Din Djarin⏤ Do you have a middle name? I want to yell your entire name at you but⏤ never mind. Just⏤ Maker! Are you alright? Are you safe? Is Grogu⏤”

Din cut in, “Yes. To all of it. Grogu is safe,” He lifted his arm enough that she could see the snoozing boy, “I am safe, I am okay. In fact, I am less injured than you are right now.” He sighed. “And, you’re right. That wasn’t fair of me. I just… I panicked.”

Your gaze softened but the concern remained. “Yeah. I guess… As long as you guys are safe.”

“We are, and we’ll be home soon.” Din promised. Your lips twitched up into a smile. “Who is taking care of you right now?”

You chuckled. “Uh, me?”

Din hummed in displeasure. He should be there to help you⏤ to take care of you. It killed him to be this far from you. A part of him wanted to stand up right now and fly home, but he needed to talk to the Armorer tomorrow. He needed to have something forged.

“Maybe you should stay with Nima…”

“I can take care of myself, Din.” You grinned. “I’m the greatest doctor in the galaxy, remember?” Din chuckled under his breath. “You really are okay, though?”

Din nodded. “I swear to you, ner kar’ta.”

They only spoke for a few more moments because Din was adamant you go to bed even though it wasn’t very late in Nevarro. You just looked so exhausted. Maybe he’d talk to Karga about a vacation. If they got the new physician to move to Nevarro then the city could afford to spare you for a few days. Vanth could stay a little while longer to cover for him. Din just wanted to take you somewhere nice⏤ somewhere relaxing. Though he should probably focus on actually courting you before he starts thinking of honeymoon options.

When the holocall ended, Din glanced over at Bo who simply tilted her head at him. He scoffed, “Really?”

“Seemed like pertinent information.”

“Your hand still looks like shit.”

You glanced up at Nima with a tight lipped smile. “A little rude considering I saved your hand.” She snickered. She wasn’t wrong. The swelling had improved but the bruising still looked Maker awful. Though, with Aayla’s help you were able to get a real splint on it. “I thought you were bringing me lunch.”

“I thought you were going to come with me to lunch.” She argued.

Luckily, the clinic wasn’t busy. So you shrugged out of your white coat, leaving you in just your scrubs, and then followed Nima who was leading the way with a bounce. There had been no further news on the Kurt situation which left you in turmoil. However, Nima had been doing her best to distract you and anytime anxiety did try to wash over you, you just reminded yourself that your boys would be home in the next 48 hours or so. 

“The Razor Crest project is going so well.” Nima clapped her hands. “I mean, we’re still missing some key pieces, but Peli and I are nearly done with the engine rebuild. Can you believe that?” You hummed in interest. It’d be nice to see it eventually. The Crest was such a strong presence in so many of Din’s story and Grogu’s pictures. Obviously, this wasn’t the exact same. Version 2.0, but still. “Peli said⏤”

The sound of a low rumble filled the air. As you, Nima, and all the other citizens standing outside paused to listen to the sound, a large shade began to cover the city. As if the sun was being blocked out. You looked up and your eyes widened at the sight of a huge ship.

“Shit. That’s a Corsair.” Nima mumbled in shock. Just as the words left her mouth, an alarm began to blare loudly and the voice of a droid called for evacuation to the lava fields. You didn't even have a spare second to panic because that’s when blaster fire rained down on Nevarro.

mando'a translations

ner kar'ata: my heart Me'bana?: What happened? Cuyir gar o'r aaray?: Are you in pain? Pehea rucuyir gar shupur'yc?: How were you injuried?

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @banana-lol @daybleedsintonightfall11 @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @harriedandharassed @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition @thelovelyhann @harrys-sunflower-bakery @mayaaaaah @theway-thisis

Perfectly Intoxicating (Pt.8)

What to Expect: Javier Peña X F!Reader. **SMUT WARNING (Minors do not interact - NSFW). EXTREME FLUFF & More Angst than other parts. Characters and their names have been added to create depth. Far off from the Narcos storyline/timelines at this point. Post Pablo Escobar's death. Pts 1-7 should be read to understand details within the story. Apologies for and errors with spelling/grammar/Spanish. No use to Y/N but physical descriptions/preferences (She is me and I am not sorry). Please Read at your own risk. I am not responsible for what you consume on the internet. Summary: We were working as an assistance to Peña and Murphy in Columbia. You started a casual relationship with Javier that leads to your pregnant with his baby. Sporadic Time Gaps Included in this Pt. Warnings/Mentions of: unprotected PIV sex, fingering, stimulation, orgasms, dirty talk, liquor, swearing, pet names, smoking, breeding k!nk Javi, pregnancy. Theme Song: Value - John Splithoff

A/N: WOW, finally the last official part of my series. (Part 9 will be the Epilogue). IM SORRY IT'S MOSTLY FLUFFY DOMESTIC JAVI BECAUSE IM STARVING FOR HIS LOVE. (The Epilogue will be the smuttiest of smut, the fluff, and a Steve and reader reunion - I promise). As this series comes to a close I want to say thank you so so much to all my readers. I have my new Javi series in the works and its going to be written a bit different, but I am so excited to share it. Join my Taglist All Parts will be in my Masterlist And all my FIPs list what I will be putting out next Enjoy!! and your comments and reblogs mean the world to me -g<33

“Javi!” You call out to him as you try to balance on your apartment couch. Your hand barely able to grab the photo hanging above it. Your one leg up on the arm of the couch as you look down at it, debating on trying to balance to get a better angle. Javier comes around the corner with your dish cloth over his shoulder, wiping his hands off on his jeans. “What are you doing, Cariño?” His eyes widening and coming to your assistance. He grabs your hand and helps you off the couch, soon replacing you and grabbing the photo from the wall. 

He hands it to you and your mind replays the moment you brought it home. Your fingers tracing the outline of painted waves. Being the first item to help create the space as your own, now being the last item put away; nurtures the growing feeling of bitter sweetness. 

You wrap up the last unpacked item in newspaper and put it in a box. “You should really stop trying to climb the entire place now,” he stands in front of you. “We don’t want to risk any accidents.”  His hands come to your hips and move to the sides of your pregnant stomach. He gives you a delicate rub before his hands drift to the sides of your face. “That’s why I called you,” you look up at him with puppy eyes. You both smile and he places a soft and slow kiss to your lips.

__

You had reached the end of your term in Columbia and were now ending your fifth month of pregnancy. Everything had gone smoothly, aside from the baby doing gymnastics around 12AM every evening. You had spent the week packing up your apartment to have everything shipped to your moms in Miami. 

You and Javi had booked a trip to Texas that required you to leave tomorrow, to visit Chucho for two weeks. Soon after, you two would be visiting your mom and moving into a rental that Javi found for you. 

Just you… About Mexico…

After a few long nights of discussions, Javi had agreed to take on Mexico after he helped you settle into that rental in Miami.

There was a lot of crying leading up to the decision. Pregnancy hormones weren’t helping and made you more emotional than usual (which was already a lot). Javier was also back to smoking more regularly after trying to quit.

That night after you both found out about the reassignment to Mexico; you had given in to a looming breakdown. “I don’t understand why she would do this to us. I’m fucking pregnant for god’s sake!” You would sit with your back against the bath tub, similar to when you found out you were pregnant. Javier sitting beside you. Your emotions being driven by a replay of all the other agents you could overhear in the office, talking about how Mexico was even more dangerous than Columbia. “Is she trying to get you killed?” You would wail to Javi, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. Your eyes trying to plead with his. Desperately wanting him to retract his acceptance of this new assignment, without you having to ask. 

“I’m sorry baby, Im so, so sorry,” Javier sat with both his arms holding you, as you sobbed into his chest. He kept quiet just rubbing your back, as your cries would eventually die out. Until you were laying in his lap, staring into space. The truth was, Javier was devastated about all of it, too. He wasn’t even sure what to say. In the silence, his mind was running. Javi was trying to think of ways to ‘not fuck this up’. To fix it. To be able to have you and this family life - as well as the job. But he knew deep down that having everything would be impossible. There was always the chance that something like this could happen. That the job could separate you two some more. And what kind of life would that be for you? You, that had been so understanding. Always putting him first when he had first initially told you he would take it. You understood that he needed to do this. But you couldn’t help but feel like a second choice. Talking to yourself repeatedly. ‘What did you expect? you’ve only known the man 12 months and you’re going to have his baby. He could not drop everything for you.’

But as you laid in his lap on the bathroom floor, tears drying sticky against your face, eyes wide open you realized that you have never asked him. Never asked him to choose you as you didn’t want to feel too needy. But it was now or never. As much as you fought it the words slither out of your mouth in regret. “Does she not understand how much I’m going to need you?” you whisper to him, unemotional. 

Javier’s rubbing stops and his face hardens at your words. He had been waiting months for you to say that.

He remembers after he got shot. How he wanted you to say you ‘needed him’. How hearing those few words would make him fight for this, for you.  He helps you to sit up to look at him. “What did you just say, hermosa?” he asks, his eyes looking stunned into yours. You whimper as you pout. “Javi, I need you. Please don’t go.”

From that moment on, Javier changed. Even more than he already had. He had become very clingy and more loving than usual. 

He tried to come up with a solution after your meltdown. He had agreed with the Admin to do Mexico if he was able to come back before the baby’s due date. The shortest time she agreed to was two months, then he could come home when you were moving into the last month of your pregnancy. As if the Administrator couldn’t be more punishing - he was forced into early retirement once the two months were to end. It was either Columbia, Mexico, or Retirement. 

The discussion with you following this newfound decision resulted in Javier excitedly crafting up a plan to move in with you. He was relishing in the idea of taking on ‘full time dad.’ He had insisted on this, as much as you tried to be supportive of whatever he were to decide on. But the plan was set. You both were not pleased about his two month absence, but Javier tried to bring in the positive with 'At least it’s only two months, cariño.’  

Things had gotten better, but you were still dreading those two months apart that were creeping right around the corner. You wouldn’t be getting any sleep, and neither would Javi. You both were constantly anxious about the distance and what that would entail for your relationship. Ever since Javi found out about the pregnancy, he had been spending every night curled up behind you. In your place or his. His arms holding you and the baby tightly. Barely getting any sleep (not like he did much already).  Every shift you would make had his eyes fluttering open and his hands stroking your hot skin. As much as he tried to remain positive for you, the nervousness of not being able to protect you ate at him.  Aside from the distance and loneliness, what kept you up most nights was that Javier would be forced into retiring from a job that had become his life. Everything he worked for. A job that had shaped the very person he was. All because you asked. You couldn’t help but feel a massive amount of guilt. Despite each of your concerns, he was constantly reassuring you that a new life was starting. A life of family. Something he couldn’t pass up on. The fuelling need for connection created a strong instinctive urge to protect you and this baby at all times. The feeling hovering over him like a dark cloud, waiting to pour heavy rain in a drought. 

A rain that would wash away all the fucking bad things in his life. Give him a clean slate.  “After all the death I’ve seen, I need this princesa.” He would murmur to you, before bed, every night since. After all, you needed him. He finally knew for sure now. Call him delusional for believing the rest would fall into place. That is if he could make it home to you, safely. __

“I called Pap yesterday, he’s really looking forward to seeing us.” Javi smiles at you as you walk into the kitchen to throw away some garbage.  You just finished packing the last of your things. Leaving one box open for whatever needs to be thrown in last minute. He’s pushing around meat in a frying pan for dinner. You smile, exhausted. “You okay?” he asks. He knows your silence too well now. “Just have a headache,” you whine and shuffle over to him. You move into the nook of his side, resting your head between his chest and arm, you both watch the meat sizzle on the stove. He puts his arm around you, as he shifts the meat around with the spatula, rubbing your back lightly. “Well, you’ve been packing all day. Why don’t I finish this and run a bath before we eat, huh?” He asks, rubbing your arm. You nod, disassociated by the pounding in your head. After the meat cooks, Javi grabs your hand and you follow him to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of the bathtub while he gets the water running. You peel off your sweater revealing one of Javi’s casual white cotton t-shirts. Your belly pokes out of the bottom and he notices the light pink stretch marks that had creeped upwards towards your belly button.

He stares down at you for a minute, smiling and waiting for you adjust yourself. Your brows come together in annoyance at how increasingly worse the headache has become.  He gets down on one knee and helps you pull off your sweat pants. Leaving you in nothing but your underwear and his t-shirt. His warm hands come over your covered belly and he leans in, giving the bump a gentle kiss. You sigh blissfully, a smile taking over your expression. Mainly because the warmth from his hands feels better than anything right now. Despite the changes to your body, you had grown more confident and happy with yourself. You had expected to feel the complete opposite. Shy and self conscious. But there was something about being the home for a baby that would be the best parts of both you and Javi; made you radiate. You were meant to do this. It also helped that Javi never let you forget how beautiful you are. Always so clingy, even in public. Not letting go of your hand anywhere, for any reason. Always helping you put your shoes on and had even insisted on stopping to buy you maternity wear, when everything over-sized stopped fitting. After all, this came as a second nature to Javier. You were having his baby, therefore he would do anything to make you the most comfortable. You would never have to ask. 

You felt as though you were in a dream, waiting to wake up. Everything felt hazy and way too good to be true.  The dream state would dissipate every once in a while. You would slip back into the present, remembering that you only had one month left together. Before being ripped apart by the assignment. Two months was too long. There wasn’t enough time with him in each day. 

You hold your hands over his as he leaves them on your stomach. His chocolate brown eyes look softly up at you, a big smile plastered on his face. He’s waiting for his baby to kick. “Never does it when you want” you tell him, unable to contain your laughter at his childlike expression. “Sólo doce por la noche, eh? when your mama is trying to sleep,” he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

‘Only twelve at night.’ He had been speaking more Spanish to the baby lately. You thought it was the sweetest thing. Javier was already the best dad and the best boyfriend.

You were finally starting to believe it. That he needs this just as much as you do. You had an ultrasound appointment tomorrow before the flight to Texas. You both hadn’t decided if you wanted to find out the gender or not, but you had felt as though it was a boy. The idea of giving Javi a miniature version of himself, comforted you. He helps you into the bath with one hand. Your body twitching at the hot temperature. “Oh my god, Javi!” you hiss at him as you slowly go to sit. “What’s wrong?” he smirks. “I thought you could handle the heat?” His eyebrow raises as he tries to stifle a laugh. “Not when I’m already being used as an oven for your child.” You huff out a sarcastic chuckle as you manage to sit amongst the bubbles. He sits at the edge of the tub as you groan in pure contentment. “This feels so good,” your eyes flutter closed. Your headache still pounding into your temples. 

Javi sits at the edge of bathtub looking down at you with hooded eyes. His hand dips down into the water and he splashes it lightly up to your exposed collarbones. 

He’s always so attentive. It’s what makes you constantly want to give to him. In more ways than one.

You look at him through your lashes before you eyes fall to below his belt. His erection has grown evident against the restricting fabric. 

He notices you eyeing him. 

“You know what takes headaches away?” He teases, his hand moving lower down your chest. 

He toys each overly sensitive nipple as your lips part. Every time he goes to touch you its like your whole body is lit on fire. It almost hurts how bad you ache for him. 

The way he’s leaning over you has left him hovering above your face, both lustfully staring at one another. 

“I think I know exactly what you’re referring to,” you exhale before coming up to smush your lips against his. 

He stays playing with your breasts as your wet hand grips his face, the other coming to the bulge of his jeans. 

The warm water soaking into him through his clothes makes him snicker against your lips. 

“Someone’s needy,” he groans before kissing you again. 

“And it’s only been what?” He pulls off you, to look at his watch. 

“Less than 10 hours since I made you” He hesitates, as a smirk covers his lips. "shake, baby.” His deep voice has your heartbeat fall between your legs. 

It’s true. 

This morning Javi woke you up by eating you out. Which had been happening a lot lately. 

“I know but,” you bite his bottom lip. 

“I need you again, your fingers-” you drag out before inhaling him into another kiss. 

Your palm subconsciously pushing against him harder in his jeans. 

“Please Javi,” you pout up at him. There it was again - you saying that you needed him, followed by the prettiest ‘please’ to ever leave your lips. 

The way you say his name while you’re begging, gets him kneeling beside the tub. His hand in the water, gliding over your stomach and landing between your legs.  

The way you’ve both been kissing these past two months has been incredible. Enough to almost get you there on it’s own. 

Slow, wet, and sensual.

He had started frantically sucking and biting at your lips and your neck more often too. Like he couldn’t get enough of you. You let his fingers do the work. In the water he’s still able to feel how ready you are for him. He teases your entrance before his fingers lift to rub your clit slowly. “Javi,” you breath out. “So wet already, hermosa.” He growls. He’s right. With all the changes happening to your body, it didn’t take much. This sensitivity of course, made Javi want you even more. He loved the way he could go for hours until you couldn’t take it anymore. Shaking and practically crawling away from him. He could not get enough and it exhausted you both. His index and middle finger slip inside as his thumb keeps rubbing. You shift in the bath, laying back as you watch him.

The way his cheek is still wet from the bath water on your hand. His jaw clenching and his lips parting slightly as he watches you squirm and moan for him. The way his bicep flexes as his fingers continue to pleasure you. 

The vascularity of his arm is enough to almost send you over. Your brows push together and your mouth falls open. 

His fingers curl up to find that soft spot that brings you sweet release. “Javi, I,” your eyes squeeze shut as you’re just about over the edge. He smirks, proud of himself. “You’ve been coming so fast, baby,” he huffs. His lips part further as he looks down at where his hand is between you, as though he can see through the layer of bubbles on the surface. The feel of you squeezing against his fingers makes his cock twitch as it grows harder. “That’s it,” he licks his lips. “Come for me,” he exhales. After a few more fast taps with the pads of his fingers, you finish. Letting out little yelps for him, followed by whimpers, as your hands come up to swipe over your face. He gives a few more teasing strokes between your folds as you flinch. “I can’t -I can’t,” you plead, prying his wrist out from between you. Javi pulls his hand out with a laugh and grabs the shampoo from the side of the tub. He’s been kneeling next to the jacuzzi tub. “Come here,” he motions for you to sit with your back to where he’s sitting. You slide over, still breathless. He squeezes the shampoo into his hands, lathering it into your scalp. His strong fingers giving you one of the best head massages known to man.

Your eyes flutter closed and you wonder how you got so lucky. Moments like this, had you convinced that Javier really was the most caring and compassionate man to walk this earth. You knew that relationships had been off the table for him for a long time.   Javier had way too much love to give and too little time in his schedule. But you could tell he craved this. Craved the connection.    His soapy hands come down to your neck and shoulders, rubbing all the tension out. The headache practically gone. Without even thinking, you let out a euphoric groan. He laughs in return. “That feel good, princesa?” he coos in your ear. You can’t even say anything in return, only little grateful hums. Then you ask him. “How have you managed to stay single?” You both laugh at how ridiculous and random that sounds. “What do you mean by that?” his hands working at the knots in your upper back. “You’ve just been so,” you stare at the blank bathroom wall. “Good to me.” He huffs out another laugh. “It makes me wonder how I’m the one lucky enough to receive all this.”  There is a long silence as his thumbs lighten up in pressure, turning into a soothing stroke. Javi’s heart aches at the thought of no one treating you how you deserved.

“I’ve always been good to women,” his voice low. You don’t say anything, as there is an ounce of jealously pooling deep in your stomach. Thinking about all the woman Javi had given this treatment to before you. Rubbing their back, shampooing them. Sticking his fingers inside them and being with them so intimately, like he has been with you. “It’s never been about being good to a woman. It’s,” he starts, taking his time to get the words out exactly how he wants. “It’s been about the timing and the pain of loss.” His words burn your chest, making your heart ache for him. All this time Javier Peña has been scared to lose a partner. Exactly like you were scared, to be lost. 

He had tried with Maria and failed. Soon after, trying to avoid the hurt by being alone and focusing on the only thing he felt good at - the job. Not realizing that the loneliness had been wounding him, just as bad.

He had confirmed your suspicions about his views on commitment. It being all too familiar, in a way that fuelled motivation inside you to get this right. It’s no wonder you both fit together so well. Two pieces of a puzzle, depraved of fitting together so effortlessly. 

You turn your body to face him as he sits along the outside wall of the bath, your head full of shampoo. “So,” you place your hands over one another, laying your chin on them. Inches away from his face. “Are you afraid to lose me?” you look into his deep brown eyes, eyebrows raising in anticipation. He looks down into his lap, nervously smiling. His head lifting slightly and he looks through his brows at you. “More than you even know.” You watch as his eyes search your face. He’s waiting for some relief from the vulnerability he’s just exposed to you. You search his expression in return, sucking in your lips flat as you debate on saying it. But you do anyways. “I’m afraid to lose you too,” you whisper back. The definition more so meaning you don’t want to lose him by losing yourself. ___ After dinner, Javi helps you change into your new pyjamas and you both settle into bed. As his hand goes to wrap around you like every other night, you turn to face him instead. You both lay on your side, the ceiling fan circulating the cool air through your bedroom. His eyes trail down to your stomach, his hand lifting the side of the tank you’re wearing. His fingers lightly grazing over the vessel being used to create a little human. You watch as his face softens with the twitch of his eyebrows. “Do you want to know tomorrow?” he grumbles, stroking shapes into your warm skin. Your hand stops his, linking your fingers together.  “I don’t know,” you huff, both staring at your intertwined hands. “Do you?” you ask him. His eyebrows raise in thought. “I don’t think that part is super important to me.” You both lay silent for a moment longer. You’re almost asleep before he speaks again. “A little girl,” he mumbles, his index finger running a soft line from the top of your bump, to your belly button. “You think?” You ask smiling, half asleep. He sits in his thoughts before speaking. “I like to think she’s like you,” He smirks.  “Warm,” he looks at your face, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “Kind,” a kiss to your nose. “Selfless.” he finishes with a deep kiss to your lips. You continue to kiss slow, wrapping your legs up in one another, your belly grazing against his body. _____

The next morning you meet with Steve while Javier takes care of some last minute stuff in the office. “So, did you decide?” Steve asks. His blue eyes look up at you over his burrito he’s biting into. It’s like he hasn’t eaten in his entire life.  You’re both at a food cart outside, sitting at a wooden picnic bench. He’s referring to the gender of the baby. Wanting to know if you and Javier had made a decision to find out at the appointment today. “We decided to wait,” you tell him, squinting because of the sun. He nods as he chews. “I mean, as long as the baby’s healthy, right?” He tells you, wiping his mouth on a napkin. You both finish your food and head back to the office. You’re officially done your contract so you wait for Javi at his desk. Both your luggage bags parked securely near his desk.   “So I will take the liberty of shipping your stuff back to Miami,” Steve says, walking over with a pen and paper for you to write down your moms address. Steve had agreed to ship all of 5 boxes to Miami and your mom offered to pay for it with part of the money your father left her. His estate left enough to cushion her bank account, help you out if needed, and to pay off their large ocean front home. It was your type of dream home. She had always offered you to stay but you couldn’t imagine living with her for longer than a week. The two weeks visiting were going to be interesting, to say the least. Your mother could be a bit… much.

“Thanks so much Stevie,” you smile at him. Part of you was sad, leaving him in Columbia alone. You were going to miss him. He still had months to go out here, and he was losing Peña as a partner because of you.

He returns the gesture, as you stand in front of him. Sadness lingering behind his eyes. As much as he would never admit it, he was sad to lose you too. He would miss having someone to annoy him. His hand comes to the top of your head, messing with your hair. “Take care of yourself, yeah?” He winks at you, trying to hide the devastation. You watch him intently before throwing your arms around his waist. How did he think you would go without a goodbye hug. He immediately invites you in by snaking his arms around your back. Resting his chin down on the top of your head, before giving it a quick kiss. This was his goodbye. Just then Javier rounds the corner wearing a white button up with an open beige vest. His tight blue jeans hugging his legs, just like the first time you laid eyes on him. Your stomach flutters. He really was Intoxicating - Still is -  Perfectly Intoxicating. He looks over at you, eyes curious. “Ready to go?” He asks. You nod and he shifts his gaze to Steve. Javi smiles at him, reaching his hand out to shake. Steve goes to return the action but Javi brings him in for a one arm hug instead. After a fast slap on the back he pulls away to look at Steve. “Will’ see ya again,” he reassures him. Steve looks down in awkwardness. After years of being Javier’s partner, he was wrapping up this chapter. But it didn’t mean they weren’t going to see each other again, this time as friends. “Yeah,” Steve sighs, fidgeting with the paper in his hands. “I’m sure you’ll need us to babysit in a couple years anyways.” He laughs. _____ The doctors appointment goes over well. Everything was just as normal as it could be. Even though this baby was testing your limits with constant cravings and the need to pee, it was healthy. And like Steve said, that’s all that matters. You both drive to the airport in silence. Javier has one hand gripping the wheel as the other holds up the sonogram. He stared at it intently with his amber coloured sunglasses on. A small smile pulling at his lips. “This is crazy,” he mumbles. Your heart warms as you watch him, wanting to remember this moment for the rest of your life. You smile as you sit to face him in the passenger seat. “Something to bring with you to Mexico.” The tone of your voice genuine but sad, making Javi’s head turn fast to look at you. He can see the genuine sorrow seeping out of your eyes at the thought of him leaving. He’s mad at himself for it.   “I’m gonna have it on me at all times.” He affirms, setting the photo down in the cup holder and grabbing your leg. He gives you a reassuring squeeze to your thigh. “It’ll be my good luck charm.” 

______ You both arrive in Texas after almost a 6 hour direct flight from Bogotá Your back is killing you. 

Javier’s father Don Chucho had offered to pick you both up at the airport but with you being almost 6 months pregnant, Javier decided to rent a car. He didn’t want his father meeting you for the first time and also finding out about the baby - in an airport. The drive to the ranch was long and excruciating on your back. Javier had stopped multiple times along the way for you to use the gas station restroom, to get snacks, and for you to stretch. Soon, the city view out the window turned into a long stretch of dirt road. Long lengths of field on either side of the vehicle. Some with cows, others with horses. You smile at the view. The idea of little Javier growing up out here and being free from all the violence that was drug related crime; created a contentment that you wished for your own baby. The type of childhood you wished you could have had. As much as you felt bad about Javi retiring, you were selfishly happy that he wouldn’t be doing that kind of work anymore. He could be the type of father to your baby, that you never had.  A mentally present one. You sigh at the thought. The long road takes a wide curve leading into a tree line and Javier gives your leg a squeeze. “We’re here.” The truck comes to a soft stop. You sit up in your seat as you stare at the large country home with scuffed white siding and a wrap around porch. The left side of the home is an octagon shape and with the truck window open you can hear the weather vane at the tip of its roof. The metal arrows clinking around in the light blow of the wind. It’s beautiful. You look around at the yard filled with farming machinery. A red barn behind the home and the distant neighs of horses carried by the breeze. A big smile creeping onto your face. You already love it here. Javi gets out of the truck you rented and walks over to your side. Your head sticks out the window, taking everything in. You’re mesmerized by how calm the air feels. “Javier!” you hear Don Chucho exclaim. You smile as you watch him waddle out the front door of the large house, sporting his white cowboy hat and thick moustache. His arms are open in a welcoming gesture, before he uses the old railing to help himself down from the porch onto the thick grass. You smile as you look him up and down. His grey hair neatly combed back in his hat. The colour matching his moustache that is significantly thicker than Javiers. He’s wearing similar sunglasses to his son and a blue long sleeve button up, rolled half way up his forearms. Blue jeans pulled over his dark brown cowboy boots. It’s like you’re staring at someone famous, considering everything you’ve heard about him. He walks to your side of the vehicle where Javi stands next to your door, nervous. You place your hand on his shoulder and he turns his head to face you, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. Your touch instantly calms him. Giving him a reassuring nod before looking to Chucho. “No hug for your old man?” he grumbles to Javier. Smiling big with his arms spread wide. The wrinkles around his mouth when he looks over at you, suggest he’s lived a happy life. Aside from losing his wife.  

“Hey Pap,” Javi walks slowly over to his dad and they engulf one another in a rough embrace. Chucho walks over to you and sticks his hand out to greet you. Your head lifts from resting on the edge of the open window and you reach your hand out to him in return. You give him a stern and confident handshake. “And you’re,” You cut him off to introduce yourself. “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you,” you smile, wide. Chucho looks to Javier as he grips your hand in both of his, giving you a pat. It’s like he’s giving Javier the eye - ‘I like this one.’ It instantly makes Javier smirk while looking down at his feet. “You have a beautiful place here,” you tell him, your eyes taking another scan of the property. Chucho lets go of your hand and places his hands on his hips, as he too looks around. You watch as so many of Javiers mannerisms come from his father. It makes you almost laugh. “Well, thank you darlin’.” He stares between you and Javi as silence fills the air. “Why don’t we get you outta’ that truck and inside, huh?” He asks reaching for the handle. Javier almost panics at the need to be cautious. He grabs the truck door from Chucho to slow it’s opening. Javier’s readiness to help you takes Chucho by surprise and he steps back. The door is open, blocking your body from Chucho as your sneakers hit the grass. The pain in your back makes you wince. “You okay?” Javi asks quietly, overly concerned with wide eyes. “Yeah,” you exhale. “I have to just grab my bag.”  You turn back into the truck and Javier watches you intently. “Wow, you two are like a moth and a flame” Chucho grumbles out to Javier. He had never seen Javier so careful and attentive around a woman since Lorraine, or even his mother. 

Javi looks sideways at his father, almost scolding him. Chucho lets out a raspy laugh at the annoyance in Javi’s expression. You turn back to face Javi, adjusting your shirt over your growing belly. He looks down at you and you give him a confident nod, ready for what’s about to come. Javier leads you by your hand, out from behind the truck door and slams it shut. You slowly move your eyes to Chucho’s face as his fall to your body and stop at your stomach. The silence is loud as Javi moves beside you and grabs your hand tight. “Pap, this is uh,” he stutters, scratching the back of his neck.  “The reason we came here.” Chucho stays blinking at your baby bump for what seems like hours. Unable to say anything. Javi looks at you worried, he’s wondering if he’s broken his father. Chucho’s hesitant eyes look through his brows at Javier, then to you. When finally, he moves. He hobbles up to you, eyes back glued to your stomach. “May I?” his dark eyes look into yours, moustache twitching. You nod with a quiet, “Of course.” His old and worn hands come to your stomach as he stares down at it.

You can feel his warmth through your shirt as one hand moves from the side of your tummy to the top of it. A smile finally pulls at his lips as a little foot kicks his palm. Your eyes widen and you both can’t help but chuckle. The laughter pulls a relieved sigh out of Javier. It’s as if he’s been holding his breath waiting for his fathers reaction. 

“Oh ya,” Chucho’s low voice vibrates through you. “That’s a baby Peña in there,” he looks back up at you through his grey brows. “A kicker just like it’s daddy.” ___

After a long tour of the house and farm area you finally sit at the edge of the bed, pulling your sore feet into your hands, giving them a quick massage. Javier closes the guest bedroom door and walks straight over to you. He gets on his knees in front of you, making you drop your leg back down. His face red as though he might combust. He looks at you intensely, creating worry in your reaction. “Javi, is everything,” He cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands gently, and kissing your lips soft. It lasts for a while. Tangling tongues and taking turns nipping at each others lips. He finally pulls away as you exhale onto him. The kiss was enough to flood your core with arousal . “What was that for?” You ask, breathless.

His nose drags across yours softly, as he smiles. “I’m just really, happy.” He’s almost giggling. You smile as your stomach flutters like it always has. You love happy and giggly Javier.

It also made him extremely horny. 

“How’s your back?” he asks, forehead still pressed to yours as his arms fall to your sides. His fingers tracing shapes into your hips, enough to tickle you. Your eyes flutter shut as you breath out a response. “It’s alright. It’s more my feet now,” you moan at the feeling of his breath on your lips, and his fingers playing with the bare skin of your hips “Mmm,” he hums, his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Does my girl need a foot massage?” his eyebrow lifts slightly and you both inhale each other in another kiss. “Yes, please.” _______ Chucho insisted on you and Javier relaxing will he makes dinner. You both sit on the front porch swing, listening to cicadas and crickets singing all around the yard. You can hear Chucho banging around in the kitchen through a nearby open window. Even with the glow of the inside lights, it’s especially dark and you’re able to see every single star in the sky. If you could see them in Columbia, you had never taken the time to really look. Being here, aching feet being rubbed by Javi’s strong hands, was the best you had felt in a while. Even the smell of the air was different. “I love it here,” you hum with a dazed smile. Javi lets out a little laugh through his nose, looking at you before looking straight ahead at the property. “Yeah, it’s alright.” There is silence between you as you watch his extremely handsome side profile. His brows furrowing and his lips slightly parted like usual. “And your dad,” you start. Javier’s expression hardening at your words. “He seems nice.” You stare at your fingers as you pick at your thumbnail, nervously. “At least he handled the pregnancy better than my mom probably will.” You sigh, your words drifting off.  Javi looks over at you, lifting your legs to move closer. Your knees pulled up into his chest, as you lay against the arm of the slightly rocking swing. A cozy blanket draped over you both. It was the first time you noticed that about Javier. He knew you so well already. The minute you were anxious; he would subconsciously move closer or touch you in some way to reassure. Instantly making you feel less alone and providing an unprecedented amount of support. It was something you had never experienced with any men that came before him. He made you feel…

Secure

No wonder why this time was so different already. 

“My father is alright.” he looks down at where he rubs your legs in his lap. “He likes to do this thing called,” he looks over at you, raising an eyebrow. “Hold my past against me.” 

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “All parents are like that,” you sigh. Your fingers play with the blanket as you look up at the sky. “He probably just has regrets from what happened to your mother,” you start, hesitating. “And he’s projecting them onto you.” You both sit in silence for a couple minutes, Javi is back to zoning out at the land in front of him. “He probably doesn’t want you to have any regrets or mistakes or what ever the fuck he has,” you laugh at your inability to give any mind blowing advice. Javier looks over at you as you look back down at your hands. Your face radiates from the soft glow of the lights inside, your hair slightly blowing in the breeze created by the swing, wearing an agency zip up of his over your cute little baby bump. He’s never seen anything more naturally beautiful than you in this moment. And he realizes, he doesn’t have any regrets. He has lived in regret his whole life and look where it got him. Sick to death of his job, lonely, and unable to form deep connections. Then he met you. Where just sex became more than that. All because he had let you in a little bit more than all the others. This was the best he had felt since leaving Lorraine at that alter, over 10 years ago. All because he met you. Now you were giving him the best gift anyone could ever give him and he would spend his whole life thanking you for that. His full time job after Mexico would be creating the best life for his new little family and part of him couldn’t wait.

His hand reaches out to grab yours, intertwining your fingers with his. Your eyes meet.  “I don’t think I have any regrets, anymore,” he coos softly, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You both stare, both awaiting your response. “Me either,” you reply bashfully. ___ Dinner had been so satiating, creating a tiredness in you like no other. You both said goodnight to Chucho after he had taken the liberty to plan an entire excursion for you and Javier, starting early tomorrow morning. He had mentioned a stream farther down the property that Javier used to hangout at when he was a little boy. You expressed interest in checking it out as Javi stayed unimpressed by his fathers antics.  Chucho had then discussed the horses with you. If you knew how to ride them, if you felt comfortable on horse back at 6 months pregnant. “I used to ride all the time. My mom would take me back in Miami.” You would tell the old man. He turned to Javier, giving him an approving grin. “And as long as it’s a slow walk, my bladder should be okay with it.” So it was settled. Chucho would ready the horses in the morning and give you and Javier some food to take with. Spending the day on a soft blanket near the rushing stream, with nothing to do. No deadlines, no cartels, and no gunshots, and no mexico pulling him away from you. The thought alone, was enough to spark desire you never knew existed. You both needed that. Javier had actually agreed. He too, wanted to be close to you with zero interruptions. You both lay in bed in your usual position. His body pressed up against your back. No clothing on either of you, since the house was 100 degrees all year round, and you both ran hot in your sleep. As the back of your body molded into Javier, he kissed your bare shoulder in front of him. Goosebumps rose onto your skin, making him do it again. This time nibbling up to your neck. You don’t oblige, practically still wet from that kiss earlier. Javier’s warm hands wrap around to your stomach, and you lay yours on top of his. His hips rocking into your back side, his soft cock growing hard at the need to have you covering him. His hands leave your stomach and reach up to your breast, twisting and pinching softly at your nipple. Arousal leaks out of you at only the sensation his soft hands create.

He loves that he doesn’t have to do much, for you to turn into a puddle for him lately. His hand leaves your chest for a minute and you can feel his cock slipping through your legs and between your folds. Continuing to rock himself against you. The bed slightly squeaks, making him stop his movements in paranoia before continuing slowly. He teases you, his cock dragging up and down against your dripping heat, wetting him.  You turn your head back as far as it will go and he meets you half way. Giving you an extremely slow kiss. Your lips on each other is the only sound filling the room. The intimacy of the darkness and the silence, is something you hadn’t yet experienced with Javier. You had always been able to see each other. This time the room was pitch black and neither of you were saying anything.  “You have to stay quiet, querida.” His breath so hot in your ear, making your hips rock back again, gliding the tip of his cock to tickle your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Can you do that?” He asks, before kissing that spot below your ear. “Mhmm,” you breath out while nodding, impatient. You try to stop your hips from rocking faster into him. As they come back to meet his again, his cock slides into you with no contest. As you absorb his full length, you can’t help almost moaning. The way he’s hitting your g-spot in this position has your clit throbbing to be stimulated. You should’ve known by now with Javier, you don’t have to utter the words. His hand comes around to your front and snakes under your belly. His big hand spreading you open, as he rubs circles just where you need with his two fingers. You both had always been so good at reading each others minds, especially when it came to sex. 

You really were two puzzle pieces. The thought of sex like this for potentially the rest of your life, had you whine out in pleasure. Javier lets out a satisfied whisper. “That’s it,” he coos. “Just like that.” His lips parting more. He practically whimpers against your back as your hips rock into his, pulling his member in and out of you so easily. He slows his pace as his lips graze against your shoulder, his hand leaving your clit to interlace his fingers with yours. “huh- oh my-god,” he pants quietly into the back of your neck, his hips rocking to meet yours over and over.  You both elicit barely any sounds. Only the faint wetness of you dripping all over him, both chasing your finish. Javiers hand comes to your face, bending it back to him. He kisses you again, slow and sloppy. Moaning into each other’s mouthes. He doesn’t speed up but his hips snap harder into you. The tip of his cock molding that soft spot inside you, just for him. “Look at you,” he breaths against your mouth. “Doing such a good job for me,” he grumbles out, his voice quiet enough not to form any suspicion. The praise is enough to send you into your impending orgasm. His looming shortly behind yours. “Anything for you, Javi” you breath before squeezing your eyes shut and your mouth falling open. Javier’s hand instinctively comes up to your mouth, covering it with his fingers. He’s unsure if you’re able to keep your pleasure inaudible and he wants to be extra careful. You obey his ask though. No sounds leaving your lips, as your teeth lightly graze his fingers. This alone set’s him off, his hips digging deeper into you on each thrust, becoming messy. Javi’s hand falls from your mouth to your chest, squeezing your breast hard. The sound of his soft and needy whimpers fill the room. You try to steady your breathing without loud pants and your hand comes up to reach the back of his head. Your fingers grip into his messy brown bedhead, pulling him closer into the side of your face. His awaiting release finally erupts inside you. The familiar warmth of his come filling you up, his length twitching as you grip it hard.  You both stay in this position, trying to quietly catch your breath. His lips kiss your cheek softly, before nestling into your ear. “If you weren’t already pregnant,” he pants. “that would have definitely put a baby in you.” His words give you chills, everywhere. You had never expected Javi to be so turned on by the idea of breeding you. You couldn’t begin to imagine what your future held after this first pregnancy would be over. 

If this relationship didn’t change in any way, and you both kept up like this; having more kids with Javier didn’t totally freak you out. What did, was thinking about the way you saw commitment 12 months ago, compared to now. This was another thought simply provoked by this moment. How could you be so afraid but so ready and willing when it came to a life with Javier. I guess your mother was right when she told you ‘it just takes the right person.’ 

_______

Your eyes flutter open to bright sunlight casting through the sheer curtains of the guest room. You lay on your side, blinking the sleep from your eyes and slowly sitting up. Aside from you, the big bed is empty and silence fills your ears. You smile at the peacefulness. It’s nothing compared to the odd sounds of gunshots and busy traffic in Columbia. It was also the first time that you had awoken by yourself since Javi had been sleeping with you. It seemed he felt safe enough here on the ranch, to leave you sleeping alone. You get up and shakily slide on a pair of shorts and baggy t-shirt. Throwing your messy bed head in a scrunchie on top of your head. After brushing your teeth and performing the rest of your morning routine, you climb down the stairs to an empty living space. You walk to the kitchen where there is a bowl of fresh fruit on the counter. You pick at it when your attention is grasped by the sounds of horses in the distance. Peering out the open kitchen window you can see movement near the barn. Without putting on shoes, you leave through the back door and down the stairs of the porch. Your feet hit the thick soft grass and you smile to yourself. The sensation below your toes making you sigh in inexplainable comfort.

You walk carefully to the side of the barn where you can hear Javi and his father through the crack in the door. You’re about to open it, but their conversation makes you stop and listen. 

“You can’t run from this one, son” Chucho tells Javier as he digs into a feed pale. “I’m not running.” Javi cuts him off bluntly. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, heart beating loud in your ears. Chucho turns to Javier, staring at him for a few seconds. “What?” Javi asks, frustrated already. “That’s what you said last time.” ‘last time’? Your chest tightens. “Yeah, well last time was different,” Javier groans. “Lorraine wasn’t much different,” Chucho huffs as he wanders the barn. “She wasn’t pregnant, but she was still a good person and you ran.” “I ran because it wasn’t right!” Javi snaps at him, cutting his father off. There is a heavy silence and your eyes dart back and forth between them. They both still haven’t realized that you’re standing behind the crack of the door. “You hold these things against me Pap,” Javi’s voice softens. “Like I can’t make mistakes.” He huffs in defeat. “That was over ten years ago.” 

Chucho’s mouth twitches as his stern eyes don’t leave his sons. He walks over to Javier slowly, dropping his hand to Javi’s shoulder. “All I’m tryna’ say is that,” he licks his lips. “I know you son, you’ll get lost chasing murderers in Mexico. You’ll get your priorities messed up again and,” Your heart beat in your ears has become so deafening that you have to take deep breaths to continue listening. “And what, hmm?” Javi taunts him. “You think I’ll walk away from my family?” family? 

Chucho’s hand slowly falls from his shoulder. “I just don’t want you to have any regrets,” he sighs. “Like you have regrets about Ma?” Javi deflects. Chucho’s nostrils flare. “I did all that I could for your mother.” He growls at Javier. “Just like I’m going to do whatever I can for her.” Javi barks back at him. Don Chucho doesn’t reply. His hand reaches up to Javier’s face and pats him gently. “Okay.” He forfeits. Chucho exits the barn out the other door and you watch Javier stand at the stall of a dark brown horse. He grumbles under his breath, something in Spanish. His arms stretch against the stall in front of the horse and it rubs its nose against his shoulder. He pats its face. “I know, I know.” he murmurs to him. The sliding of the door where you’re standing, takes him off guard. He turns to look at you, face flushing a deep red. “Hey, I didn’t know you were standing there.” He tries to smile off the awkwardness of you possibly overhearing everything. “Who’s Lorraine?” you ask, flatly. Your heart still beating. Javi pauses, looks around the barn before walking over to you. “She’s a,” he hesitates again, clearing his throat. “A friend of mine I was supposed to marry over ten years ago.” Your breath hitches. Not in jealously, but rather in sadness for them both. “And what happened?” you ask him, eyes wide in curiosity. “I left to join the Columbian DEA, but I,” he hesitates again, unable to look at you. “I left her at the alter.” 

His words burn in the back of your throat. 

“And my father, well,” his dark brown eyes look up at you through his brows. “He thinks when I leave to Mexico, I will be making the same mistake.” “And will you?” You cut him off, tears welling into your eyes. Not for the purpose that you believe he will but for the purpose that he’s done it before, and the idea of him doing it to you coils your stomach in anger. “Are you kidding me?” he pleads, walking over to you. He stands directly in front of you, taking your hands in his. “Everything I’ve decided has been with you in mind. Everything I’m doing is for you, for us.” Your eyes squint shut in pain and you pull your hands from his to wipe your eyes before the tears roll. “Javi, I don’t.” you start, sucking in a shaky breath. “I want you to want this.” 

“And who said I don’t?” he looks at you confused. “I know but,” you whine, looking around the barn before back at him. “I don’t want you to make all these decisions for me, for us, because you feel obligated.” Your hand falls to the top of your belly. Here it comes. The ‘doubt’ word vomit.

“I don’t want you to forfeit any part of your life for this.” His hands come to your arms, trying to cut you off without words. “I just don’t want you to regret choosing-,” “Stop,” he cuts you off. You look at him with desperate eyes. Hoping he can see the sincerity behind all your guilt. That you didn’t want him to regret choosing this life with you. “I told you,” he starts, softly. “I don’t have any regrets.” You both huff out a smile and there is another wave of silence as he strokes your arms. 

“You have to stop that, ya’know.” His thumb coming to your cheek to wipe a tear that managed to escape. “Stop what?” you laugh pathetically as you look down at where he’s now holding your hands. 

There is a quick pause before he continues. “Stop thinking you’re not worthy of this kind of love.” 

love?

Your heart beat begins to quicken again and your exhales become so deep it feels like a punch in the chest. You both don’t know what to say next, as you search his expression for an ounce of denial. But there is nothing. No retraction or reversal visible on his face. He really meant it. “So this is,” you start. “We don’t have to say it yet,” he cuts you off. Not for the reason he doesn’t believe it, but for the reason that he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He knows you’re not there yet. 

A grin tugs at your cheeks and you nod in agreement. “Now, I think we should get to our picnic date, huh?” he smiles, taking your hand and leading you through the barn. 

____________________

The two weeks at the ranch flew by effortlessly and before you know it, you’re getting on another flight. This time to Miami. Your anxiety rising in your gut like a cauldron boiling over. Eyes darting all over the busy airport. Javi stands with you in the boarding line for the plane, as you chew your lip and twiddle your thumbs. He looks down at you, grabbing your hand to make you stop. “It’s going to be okay,” he mumbles to you, giving you a reassuring wink. You look at him before looking around again. “You don’t know my mother.”

The rental car pulls up a rocky driveway surrounded by sand and thick green hedge. Two big stone pillars highlighting the entrance to the large, modern, stone home. You both exit the vehicle and your eyes close in bliss at the salty smell of the air. The sounds of the roaring waves behind the house bring you comfort amongst all the distress you’ve been feeling, your entire drive here. “Wow,” Javier’s words cut off your daydream. “This is,” You look over at him, as he eyes the big house. Smiling and lifting an eyebrow, you respond. “Isn’t it?” 

You get the urge to skip into the home that you grew up in. You haven’t been back in a while and you forgot how much you missed it’s nostalgia.

Just then, you remember the biggest thing stopping you from running in to greet your over bearing mother. The visible baby bump. Your eyes glaze over in immediate regret, regarding being back home. “Javi, I don’t think I can.” Your voice shakes as he rounds the car to come in front of you. His eyes widen with concern. “Listen,” he licks his lips as his hands hold yours. “If it gets bad, we can leave. I can book us a hotel,” he rambles. “We don’t have to stay here if you’re uncomfortable.” There is it again, the never ending, unprecedented amount of support. 

It instantly calms you, giving you the courage to get the initial reaction over with. Somehow, you end up at the front door, knocking lightly to hear a response in return. “It’s open!” 

You take a deep breath before twisting the handle open. Seeing your mother with her back turned to the modern beige coloured kitchen, cutting a fresh pineapple on the large island in front of her.

Immediately you think how you should have called. You should have told her when you found out. You should have told her when you phoned her to tell her you would be bringing your handsome, Spanish, DEA agent, boyfriend of 10 months to see her. She’s going to be pissed.

Javi can sense your tension and he steps in front of you, a large smile plastered across his face, putting on a show for her. “Hola, Preciosa!” he beams at her. A large smile spreads across her face as she rinses her hands and heads straight for him. “You must be Javier Peña!” she gloats. Her arms draw out into a hug gesture and Javi doesn’t waste any time. He throws his arms around her and rocks her side to side. He’s doing a good job taking the attention off you. Bless his fucking soul.

“What did you call me?” she smiles at him. The energy between them surprises you. So natural and like they’ve known each other for years.

“Hello gorgeous.” he translates for her. Her cheeks heat as she steps away from him. “Well if you’re trying to make a great first impression, it’s working.” She playfully smacks his shoulder before her expression becomes more serious. “It’s very nice to meet you, Javier.” “Same to you,” he cups her hand in his. Similar to how his father did yours. 

Javi gently steps back to stand beside you instead of in front of you. His arm wrapping around your shoulder as your mother takes a moment to look at you, finally realizing. Her face falls from ecstatic to unimpressed. Her nostrils flare as her eyes quickly shift from your stomach back to your face.

“I see you’ve been busy.” Her attitude harsh and her arms cross over her chest.

There it is. Turning from soft and kind to cold, dissociative, and manic. 

“It’s nice to see you too, mom.” you mumble out, embarrassed. She’s always looked at you like you’re on display. Making you extremely uncomfortable. Her eyes slightly roll as she turns her back to you both and walks back to the kitchen.

Without so much as a hug. 

Javi awkwardly stands beside you, his smile fading when he realizes that you were right about your mother all along.

He clears his throat with a cough before he goes to speak. You grab his arm before he can say anything. Your mothers eyes look at you both through furrowed brows, as she continues to cut the pineapple. “You know where the guest room is.” she snaps, the knife ending the interaction with a hard slam to the cutting board. You scoff and grab your luggage, dragging Javi by the arm down the hall. As soon as the door closes your eyes well up into tears. “See,” you sob. “I told you,” you frantically pace as Javi sits on the edge of the bed. As always he’s trying to figure out a way to make it all better. “We shouldn’t have come.” You sniff, trying to pocket the tears. He stands to his feet, walking over to you slowly. His hand on your shoulder makes you grasp at him in a tight hug as you let a few cries out. “How am I going to do this Javi?” you ask, looking up at him with pain in those big, beautiful eyes. It makes his heart ache. “How am I going to do these next two months if my mother won’t support me. I will be all,” you words drift as your eyes fall shut. “Alone.” He doesn’t say anything. Only brings you to the bed and holds you while you cry.

Before you know it, he’s lulled you to sleep. ____ Javier opens the door slowly, careful not to disturb you as you snore peacefully.

Hours have passed and the sun was now setting against the ocean. The deep orange colour lights up the entire home as all the windows hang open. The sound of seagulls and waves are all he can hear, as he searches for your mother. He reaches the kitchen where the open sliding door reveals her on the deck, hunched over as she holds a cup of hot tea and a cigarette.

He swipes a nervous hand through his hair as he slides the screen door open, getting her full attention. She looks over at him blankly, before turning back to the view of the wide spread ocean in front of her. Javi walks over slowly, taking a seat in the padded outdoor chair beside the small couch she is seated on. They sit in silence for a short time before your mother places the mug down on the coffee table. They both stare off in different directions. “Do you mind?” Javi asks, pointing to the pack of cigarettes on the table. Your mother pushes them towards him with the lighter. Javi lights a drag and inhales the smoke like he’s been deprived his whole life.  “She’s not going to be able to do this,” you mother cuts him off. Her eyes drift over to Javi’s as she squints at him. They sit making eye contact for a while before he clears his throat and leans forward, looking away for a moment. “What makes you think that?” he asks her, his tone gruff. 

She huffs out a sarcastic laugh and takes a puff of the cigarette laying limp between her fingers. “Because she likes to run from everything.” her voice is dry, emotionless, and it makes Javier’s blood boil. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep inhale. His body slumps back into the chair and his arms cross over his chest. Your mother watches his body stiffen as she positions herself sideways to face him. “You don’t know her like I do,” she tells him. Smirking as her lips meet her mug. “And what is it that you know?” he asks again, in a tone similar to an interrogation. “She was with her ex for four years, it was a good relationship and she.” “Was it good though?” he cuts her off, almost snapping. She stops and her head tilts to glare at him in disbelief, as he shifts in his seat again. “With all due respect, ma’am.” He starts, changing to a softer tone. “Your daughter is the most calculated, thoughtful, compassionate, and selfless woman I have ever had the honour of getting to know.” Your mother’s face falls soft. “And as far as Ive gathered, there was a lot that was wrong in her last relationship. From what I know,” his eyes burn into hers. “She was expected to fill some pretty big shoes.” He leaves room for your mother to interject, but she doesn’t. “She considered everyone’s feelings, except her own and that’s why she ran.”

He takes another puff of his cigarette, blowing the smoke as he continues. His hand reaches out to her leg, her eyes watching carefully. “Excuse me for seeming out of line but, I think it’s time that we consider her feelings,” he treads carefully. “That means believing in her, and supporting her. Even if you think it’s not right.” “And do you think it’s not right?” She asks him, her eyes narrowing into his. He watches her expression and his hand comes back into his own lap. His tongue sweeps across his top lip and his fingers run quickly across his moustache. He looks around as though to check if anyone is around to hear his response. “I think she’s old enough to make her own decisions and it would help to have support from those that are supposed to love her.” His response is cold towards her. He’s trying to draw her attention to acknowledging his words, rather than looking for validity in her skepticism. She sits in silence, her eyes adverting back to the ocean, shifting in her seat. He watches her through furrowed brows as her expression softens. His eyes fall to his lap in front of him. “And to answer your question, I will always think she’s doing the right thing.” He taps his cigarette before placing it back to his lips. “I have never tried to change her. I want her for exactly who she is.” He stands to his feet and removes his socks. Throwing them onto the deck before climbing down the stairs and onto the sand, ending the conversation. Your mother watches him as he wanders out to where the waves crash against the sand. His arms fold against his chest, as he walks the shore line. “Mom?” you mumble shortly after, rubbing your swollen eyes as you stand in the back door way. Your mothers hard expression dissolves, as though everything Javi had just said to her, finally sinks in when she sees you standing there. Her baby girl, pregnant and all. “What’s up my darling?” She coos. You step out onto the cold wood of the deck and look around. “Where’s Javi?” you ask her. Sleep still lingering in your voice. You watch as she points straight ahead to a figure in the distance, he’s pacing against the shore, his pants rolled up and feet submerged in the wet mixture of sand and ocean. She looks back at you as she watches you stare at him. A smile curving onto your lips and a sparkle in your eyes that she hasn’t seen before. It creates a small smile from her as she waits for you to break the silence. Instead you pull off your socks and almost run to meet him. Your mother watches as you reach out to touch Javier’s arm and he turns to look at you, his expression melting into a consoling grin when he realizes it’s you. His arm immediately pulls you into him and he places kisses to your face. Drowning you in little pecks as you try to pull away, giggling. Your mothers smile spreads larger as she watches you both, now running around on the beach. Javi sticks out his arms and stands as though he’s going to race towards you. You laugh, standing feet away from him with your hands out in front of you. Through the wind she hears you whine out “Javi, Don’t!”

Your mother stands, moving to lean against the railing of the deck as she watches.

Javi darts towards you and you let out a playful shriek. His arms encompass you in a big hug from behind and he squeezes you tight. His head turning to kiss your cheeks some more. You smile with all your teeth and your mother watches you intently, almost laughing with you. Maybe Javier had a point. Maybe this was the right thing. ____________ Days go by with your mother and Javi. There was a shift in her energy since the initial introduction. You didn’t know what brought it on but you were happy to no longer be the centre of all her malice.

Her and Javi had created a bond as well. Spending time in the kitchen as she showed him how to make 'signature dishes’ that she claimed were your favourite. You all spent late nights in the living room, combing through boxes of your baby stuff. Your mother watching as you and Javier lit up, finding little baby shoes and overalls. “Those your father got for you,” she would say, pointing to a small pair of grey New Balance sneakers, so small that they fit in Javier’s palm. 

Hearing her talk about your father was like a stab in the stomach. Despite all the bad things, you still thought about him almost every day. He would have made a great grandpa.  “He had good taste,” Javi pulls you from your thoughts. You sit between Javi’s legs on the floor, as he sits on the couch. He leans, hunched over your shoulder as you go through the big brown box in your lap. Your hands gently pull out a photo album and your breath hitches. Your fingers shake as you open the cover to reveal a photo of you as a newborn. Your mother now in the kitchen, pouring herself and Javi a drink. She wanders back into the living room and sits on the chair across from you both, another box in front of her. “Your baby book,” she tips her glass to point at the album you’re flipping though. You scan the pages to reveal a lock of hair in a plastic bag, a tiny hospital bracelet with the words almost smudged off from being so old, and an array of photographs. The next page you turn to makes you hold in your breath. It was a photo of your dad. Your tiny baby body laying stomach down along his forearm, as he held your tiny face in his large hand. Your eyes fill with tears as you stare at his smiling face. 

The silence is thick and Javi places his warm hand on your shoulder. “That was his favourite thing to do with you,” your mother’s voice softly breaks the silence. “You would be crying and he would flip you to lay on him like that, and boom,” she huffed out a laugh. “Silence.” 

You sniff out a giggle, wiping the tears from the side of your face. 

“Meanwhile,” she starts again, sipping from her drink and placing it on the table beside her chair. “I had to damn near shake you.” Both you and Javi let out a breathy laugh. You hand the open book to Javi, as you continue to explore the box below you. He takes the book gently, placing the open page in his lap. His eyes look at your father, down to little you, then down to you between his legs. A grin pulls at his lips as he imagines what fatherhood will be like for him. Thinking about recreating this picture with your baby.

later the next day, you wake up late, to the sound of a cordless drill. As you stumble out of the bedroom and down the hall, you see Javier drilling a white shelf to the wall in the dining room. “Good Morning, sleepy head.” He grins. You cover your face with your hands, opening your fingers to peak an eye at him. “What the fuck are you doing?” you grumble. “Language young lady,” your mom jokes, rounding the corner with two glasses of lemonade. “You don’t want your baby adopting that potty mouth,” she places the drinks on the table and Javi puts the drill down to take a long chug of the fresh liquid. “Javier here, has volunteered to hang these shelves I’ve had for years and never hung.” She sings, pulling out a dining chair to sit down. Her legs overlapping on another, as she watches him. You look between them, eyebrows furrowing. “Get dressed,” she orders you. You stay still, staring at her blankly. “Go on! I have a list of things I need you to pick up from the market,” she shoos you back to the bedroom. Your hands stroke over your six months pregnant stomach dramatically as Javi stands with his hands on his hips, chuckling as he watches you. “Oh, Im so sorry,” you tease. “Im so pregnant, I think I might burst, I don’t think I can go to the market today.” You whine out, trying not to laugh at yourself. Your mother rolls her eyes at your obvious jokes and shoos you away with one last gesture of her hand. _____ ‘Tomatoes - check Lettuce - check Cucumber - check

Lemons - check Olive Oil’ She’s making a salad with vinaigrette dressing, you think to yourself as you search the shelves. Your stomach churns in hunger at the idea of a fresh salad. ‘Settle down, just gotta find the oil and we’ll be eating soon.’

Your hand caresses your growing bump. You push the cart as your body is turned to face the isle. So many fucking oils to chose from.

Just as you spot the olive oil you’ve seen in your mother cupboard before, a familiar face passes you. Your eyes meet his and you smile when you realize.

Martinez

He smiles and says ‘hey’ followed by your name. The woman with him stops as he does and her expression is confused. You step away from your cart to go give him a friendly hug when his eyes fall to your stomach. Despite being shocked, he returns the small hug and introduces you to his ‘girlfriend’ Emily. “Nice to meet you,” you return to her with a kind smile. Immediately he stares back your stomach and you both speak simultaneously. “Peña’s.” His coming out more as a question, while yours is a statement. You both awkwardly smile and nod before you speak again. “So what are you doing in Miami?” you ask him, placing your hands on your hips. His eyes widen and he bashfully smiles. “After that last incident I uh,” he hesitates, licking his lips. Emily grabs onto his bicep, urging him to continue. “I got a promotion to be the lead Admin for Miami’s recruitment agency.” Your stomach burns with acid as you remember the last time you spoke to Martinez. He had outed your relationship with Javi to the Columbian Admin. He almost had you sent home. He’s partially to blame for Javiers suspension. Now, he was running Miami’s recruitment agency for DEA agents, while Javi - who had done the most work to catch Escobar - was stuck with an assignment to Mexico?

  Your face heats up as your expression falls. You want to punch Martinez in the fucking face, but you bite your tongue. There is weighted silence before he quickly changes the subject, sensing your anger. “What about you?” He asks. Your teeth run rapidly against your tongue before you sprout a fake smile. “Yeah, uh,” your head is spinning. Making it hard for you to even concentrate on his question. “I’m transferring to the Miami agency as an assistant.” He looks down at your stomach again, almost demanding an explanation. “Javier is uh, heading to Mexico on an assignment.” “While you’re pregnant?” He cuts you off, brows furrowing together in confusion. 

“Yep,” you try to grin but he can see the pain in your expression. “He asked for a transfer to Miami and the Admin had agreed to Mexico, Columbia, or retirement.” You finish. Your eyes don’t move from his as he searches your face and down to your frame. “That’s - ridiculous.”  He almost whispers. His eyes look back to yours with genuine hurt. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen this side of Martinez. “She’s going to force him into retirement because he’s having a baby?” He re-confirms. The reminder sends painful zaps of electricity through your body. It’s something you’ve been putting off for the last four weeks, and talking to Martinez served as nothing but a wake up call to your harsh, impending reality. “That’s basically it, yeah.” you sigh. “I should, probably head back though,” You smile, grabbing the last item on your list and placing it in the cart. “Of course,” he half smiles, pain still in his expression. As nice as it was to see him being genuine to you, you still couldn’t stand the pity. When you get back, seeing Javi smiling and laughing with your mother makes you keep your mouth shut. You can’t bring yourself to tell him how great everything was working out for fucking Martinez. You just wanted to forget even running into him in the first place. ________ And just like that, the two weeks with your mother come to an end. Your boxes that Steve shipped from Columbia arrived within your last week and you watch as Javi packs them into your rental car.

Your mother stands at the front steps facing you. Her hands cup the sides of your cheeks as she stares at your face. For some reason, you feel awkward. She has hardly ever been this way with you. Not since you were a little girl. “Thank you for having us,” you grin.

She pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear as Javi makes his way to the front steps. Your eyes narrow into your mothers as her face molds into a delicate smile. “You’re going to be a great mom,” she almost whispers. Tears welling into her waterline. You haven’t seen her cry since she found out about your dad’s affair. Seeing her like that immediately heats your cheeks and creates your own tears - for the millionth time this month. “Mom, I.” You can’t even finish your sentence before she pulls you into her. Embracing you so tight. This was the first time in years since she had given you a sincere compliment. Her lips kiss your cheek fast and hard and she whispers in your ear. “You call me if you need anything, okay?” You finally pull away and your fingers push the tears away before they fall. You nod to her and turn your attention to Javi who stands below you, watching with a smile on his face. You had no idea that this interaction with your mother had been because of him and he went on never disclosing that to you. Your mother sniffs away her tears and sticks her arms out to him. 

“Javier,” she mumbles, overly emotional. They share a tight hug before he pulls back and kisses her hand in his. “We’ll see you soon, huh?” he asks, giving her a quick wink. She nods as she watches you both drive off the property and towards the city. _________________

Things around the rental grow tense as you’re two days away from Javier’s departure to Mexico. You both tread carefully around one another. Almost unnatural. 

And you hate it. That night you rub lotion on your belly, sitting up in bed as Javier exits the bathroom, shirtless after brushing his teeth. You watch his golden skin in the dim light of your bedside lamp, as he sits along the edge of the bed. Your eyes trace into the curves of his back as he stares at the pack of cigarettes on his side table. He hasn’t been smoking inside or around you, always sneaking outside to do it. Too concerned for how the inhalation could affect you or his baby.  You shift as you watch his fingers tap the surface of the sheets, fantasizing about those hands. It’s been since the ranch. Too long. You set aside the bottle of lotion and crawl over to him, placing little soft kisses along his shoulder to the back of his neck.

fuck, he smells so good. 

“What’s up, cariño?” he asks, his head twisted to look at you, his eyebrow raising. “What do you mean ‘what’s up?’ can’t I just kiss my boyfriend?” you tease him. His eyes close and he huffs out a laugh. You grab his hand and he shifts to sit facing you. You place his hand to your chest where your heart beats softly. Javi looks at you with hooded eyes, before looking down at where you’ve placed his palm. You both sit in silence before he croaks out. “I don’t want to go.” The words are so simple, yet so desperate. It was like this whole time, he thought he could be strong. 

“I know,” you mumble softly. “I don’t want you to go either.” 

His hand moves from your chest to your cheek. His thumb caressing your warm skin before he leans in. He plants a soft and slow kiss to your lips. His eyes opening to look at you. The difference between his suspension leave and these two months in Mexico was the elephant in the room; the fact that he could die out there. Both of you too nervous to even speak about that. “I know that we haven’t known each other that long,” he starts. By the direction he’s going, you know what he’s leaning towards. “But I don’t want to leave without telling you that I,” Your heart starts to pick up it’s pace and your mouth parts. “Javi, don’t.” You cut him off. His face falls before you have a chance to continue. “No, I just mean,” you giggle to yourself. Your hand reaching up to grab his from your cheek. “I don’t want you to say it because you’re leaving.” Your big doe eyes look into his and a montage plays out in his head. Back to the first time he saw you. How you got that pebble stuck in those heels you always wore. How excited you were about that jacuzzi bathtub in your apartment, the first time he fell asleep next to you and how that’s all he ever thought about. If he only knew then, how hard he would have fallen for you in such a short time. “I don’t want you to say it like this.” You repeat.

He nods and you both crawl into the same position you’ve always slept in. But Javi doesn’t sleep. He stays awake, propped up on his elbow and watching you. The way your eyes flutter and your mouth parts slightly, letting out the cutest little noises. ______

Before you know it, the sun is rising through the large window of your small rental property. You groan as you roll over to face Javi’s bare back next to you in bed. Your fingers come up to delicately rub circles into his back, smiling at how goosebumps raise along his smooth, tanned skin. He groans as he rolls over to face you, burrowing his head in your neck. “Just a few more hours,” he huffs. His warm breath making your body tingle. You giggle in response. “It’s already 10AM, we don’t want to waste your second last day in bed, do we?” You hum, your fingers massaging his scalp through his messy hair. He groans again. “Don’t remind me.”

You lay there propped on your elbow as Javi almost falls back asleep. Your hands move from his scalp to his ear, pinching his lobe to wake him.

“I’m up.” He argues, head still burrowed between your neck and the pillow. The satellite phone laying on Javi’s bedside table beeps multiple times. Taking his attention away from you. He turns over annoyed and looks at the small screen, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and concern. He sits up fast and you sit beside him, nervous. You’re unable to hear the other person on the line as you grip the blankets. Your eyes dart around his face, listening to him speak. “Good Morning Ma’am,” Javi’s tone immediately taking on more professionalism. The Admin

He waits for her to speak more, his expression hesitant as his fingers fidget with the blankets too. “He what?” He says, his breaths becoming short and his eyes widening. You shift to sit in front of him, your stomach roars with anxiety that could have you in the bathroom for hours. “I don’t understand, why would he want me?” He replies to whatever she has said.

His other hand comes up to run his fingers through his messy hair. His eyes finally landing on yours. “I see,” he mumbles. “How soon do I start?” he asks, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as he stares at you. Your face changes, emitting waves of relief.

“That sounds good. Thank you ma’am.” He hangs up fast and slowly places the phone back down. His actions take forever, as he’s still too stunned at whatever it was that was being discussed. “What is it?” you ask, your wide eyes searching for some hint of context to the conversation. “That was the Admin. I,” He licks his lips. “I got offered a position in Miami.” his words catch in the back of his throat. Your breath hitches and you don’t say anything, your whole body lighting on fire. Your hands sweating.  “For when?” you manage, through the heartbeat in your ears.

“Starting tomorrow,” he mumbles. You both sit in silence before smiles come across your faces. You expected to both be jumping for joy, but instead there is a stillness hanging heavy in the air. It feels as though the world around you has slowed to a stop as you both sit here in bed, in your own little bubble. 

“So you’re staying?” you ask, your voice shaking. He doesn’t answer your question. Instead he explains the call. “She told me to report for my new position as Senior Recruitment Officer for the Miami division.” Your eyes widen and your mouth parts when it clicks. 

“Says I have to report to my supervisor on Monday,” he looks at you and you both speak in unison. “Martinez.” 

As soon as his name leaves you mouthes, you’re standing on the bed and jumping up and down, releasing all kinds of noises in pure happiness. 

Javi’s laughing as he watches you. Finally getting winded you fall to your knees, heavy breathing.

He came through, fucking Martinez came through. “He apparently told her that he owes me one.” He laughs in disbelief.

You smile wide at Javi, tears welling up in both of you. His hands cup your face and he brings you in for an aggressive, celebratory kiss. As soon as he pulls away, you both rest forehead to forehead, out of breath. “I love you,” he murmurs, so softly that it almost doesn’t register. You watch as a single tear falls from his eye and he laughs pathetically. “I fucking love you.”  ____________3 MONTHS LATER_______________

“One more big push for us, come on,” you hear the doctor tell you amongst the pain ripping through your body. Your death grip on Javi’s hand has his eyes widening in concern. “You can do it baby, come on,” he mumbles as his other hand moves the sweat covered hairs from your forehead. “Ugh, I fucking HATE YOU!” You scream, staring him in the eye as you give one more big push. Then you hear it. The cries of your baby taking their first breath outside of you. 

Javiers face softens as he watches the doctor hold up the baby before handing it to the nurse. “A baby girl!” the doctor exclaims. You’re both sure he’s happy to be done with the 16 hours of labour. “Does daddy want to cut the cord?” the nurse asks, a smile evident through her mask. Javi just laughs through his flowing tears. Without saying anything he nods and clips the umbilical cord.

You pant in a daze, your head falling back against the pillow. He watches for a moment as they clean the baby off, before leaning down next to your face. You connect your hands and you turn your head face him, breathless. 

“You fuckin’ did it, baby.” He chuckles, tears staining both your faces. You give an exhausted smile and he kisses your forehead, then the top of your hand he’s been holding. Soon they place the little girl in your arms, wrapped in a hospital blanket. Her little body wiggling as she makes a bunch of unimpressed faces. The minute you see her you start to sob. This made everything worth it. She made everything worth it.

Javi’s eyes well up some more as his strong hand comes to gently touch her small little body. “You were a girl this whole time,” you giggle out through your tears. Her small body shifts some more, her face calming at the sound of your voice. Javi leans over you still, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I knew it,” he whispers, his eyes unable to leave his daughters.

You sniffle as your finger caresses the side of her small little cheek. “What should we call her?” you ask, turning to look at Javi. His eyes don’t leave his baby. “Eva,” he mumbles. “It means ‘life.’” His voice so steady and sure. “Because she gave mine purpose." You turn back to the baby and your hand lays on top of his, along her small, warm body. “How about, Eva Maria.” you say, your eyes moving to his face again, for approval. His brows pull together in slight anguish. He looks intently at you, almost as a thank you, before you both turn back to your baby. Once you’re settled in your hospital room and through with all the checks and guidance given by the nurses, you and Javi lay cuddled up together as Eva sleeps soundly on your chest. “Should we count all her toes again?” he asks, quietly. You giggle as you look up at him. “I think she’s got all ten.” You tell him as her little hands grip Javi’s index finger.

You both sit in silence, staring down at her before he speaks again. “She’s so tiny.” You both smile and your finger runs along her small little button nose. She shifts a bit, her arms coming to the sides of her face before she settles back down. It was like nothing else in the world mattered. Every piece of the puzzle had finally fit together the minute you heard Eva cry. This was definitely heaven. You watch Javi admiring his baby as you think back to the last 3 months. How you couldn’t say it back. How he never rushed you to either. He was always so patient. Loving every part of you, even in the roughest of weather. “I love you too,” you whisper to him. Taking his attention off of Eva to look at you. His smile speaks volumes as he pulls you in for a deep kiss. He pulls back, his breath hot on your lips. “What took you so long?” ____________________________ Taglist:

@djarinxore @notsosecretspy @pedropascalsidechick @soaringcloud @aestheticangel612 @wakaladjarin @pedritos-pumpkin @cosmicmoonchildsplanet03 @bimbofairynextdoor @cyberrpixies @fallenfairydust @partyofone3413 @lavenderkee @littlevenicebitch69 @icant-hangout-imdrumming @got1arrow4that @pedr0swh0r3 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @mxtokko @letsgroovetonighttt @bbgem329 @beboldbebravethings @phoenixinthewater @cowboychickenlittle @lucreziazaninelli @kirsteng42 @prettyinpunk85 @leeeesahhh @girlbossnancy @sarah-10 @jaded222 @jlouw646 @sadbloatedegg @ievutebebe @spookyxsam @sagggy @lordvelma @fatimaisabelpascal @cordycepcowboy @fhatbhabie @caatheeriinee07 @harriedandharassed @manuymesut

If I missed anyone, please refill-out my taglist form🩵

Steam II

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: ATLA au, enemies(?) to lovers, forbidden romance, royalty au

General Warnings: violence (bending fights), injuries (mentions of broken bones, burns, blood, bruises), alcohol consumption, mentions of prostitutionSmut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, fingering, dry humping, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, marking, virgin!reader, wonwoo has a tiny bit of a corruption kink

Length: ~16.4k | Fic Length: ~64k

Credits: banner: @caelesjjk and @shadowkoo | betas: @tomodachiii @miniseokminnies @gyuswhore @haologram and @wqnwoos

Note: part 2 is here! pls reblog and lmk what you think. also! the poem mentioned near the end. part 3 will be up friday because wednesday is reserved for a very special bday fic for one of my favorite people.

summary: Wonwoo is the best fire bender in Capitol City. Or he is. But a water bender he's never seen before changes everything.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Wonwoo’s first day as your personal guard was a case study in public humiliation.

Your grandmother sat high on her dais in the council debate hall with you seated on a slightly lower platform at her side, stiff as a board. The meeting had already taken hours. Councilmen and nobles argued back and forth across the aisle, every topic of debate hammered into the ground for them to ultimately agree to the same terms the proposed at the beginning of the discussion. It was a waste of time and energy to argue superfluous details but it kept them content which was a priceless luxury. Better to let men yell their silly insults across the debate chamber than across the battlefield.

Their raucous chatter served another purpose: preventing you from falling asleep. When that stopped working, your nails stung into your palms and you pinched your thighs, hands hidden beneath the sleeves of your gown.

Wonwoo moved into the servant’s quarters of your apartment last night and you hadn’t slept a wink, tossing and turning all night. He’d arrived and disappeared into his new room without so much as a glance in your direction. It shouldn’t have confused you as much as it did. Nothing could ever happen but it didn’t stop the tension from thundering through the entire suite; knowing you fantasized about having him in your room only for him to actually be there. 

Then that morning when you rose, servants and lady's maids fluttering about to prepare you for the day, you felt his judgment even though he never vocalized it; a heavy weight around your neck. Face hot, you shoved the new found shame down as far as you could and tried to ignore it.

The burden didn’t lighten as he followed a pace behind you throughout the day, to every appointment and lesson. He watched in somber silence as the royal jeweler presented fine gems set into crowns, necklaces, and rings. He stared at his shoes while your seamstress pinned and unpinned in a new dress. And now, he hovered somewhere behind you in the very meeting you wished would end.

“And now our last order of business,” Chancellor Dak started, scanning the long document before him. “Lord Belaor, you have the floor.”

Lord Belaor rose from his seat at the end of the chamber and approached the wide center aisle. The billowed sleeves of his robes resembled a peacock. He was dramatic as ever, demanding full attention for whatever gripe possessed him.

“As we all know, it is customary that the 25th birthday of an heir to the United Islands’ throne is a matter of great significance. It—” 

“‘It signifies that this heir is eligible to assume the throne’,” Chancellor Dak finished. “Of course we are aware of this Lord Belaor, but Princess Y/N and Her Majesty agreed she would delay her ascension until she felt comfortable assuming the throne. This has been long discussed.”

Murmurs of agreement whispered across the chamber, nobles and councilmen rolling their eyes.

“It is not Princess Y/N to whom I was referring,” Lord Belaor said. “Last month, on the occasion of his twenty-fifth birthday, my nephew, Duke Tsao, became eligible to assume the throne.”

A terrible silence filled the room. Nobles and councilmen gaped like fish as what their peer suggested: treason.

“I beg your pardon?” you gasped.

Belaor turned his head not towards you, but your grandmother. “My nephew is ready to take his place as United Island’s rightful king.”

Your jaw clenched so tight your teeth threatened to crack. Tsao, that bumbling idiot, wasn’t fit to pour water in a bucket without supervision, couldn’t bend to save his life. Tsao flaunted his mistresses without shame and starved his tenants with burdensome taxes to fund his affairs. He’d get the throne over your dead body.

“Princess Y/N is the first in line for the throne, a direct descendent of royalty. Are you challenging the line of succession, Lord Belaor?” Lord Gaha asked. Of all the nobles, he maintained the most influence and he didn’t seem sold on the idea Belaor presented.

“I am simply providing a potential consideration given that Princess Y/N is of age and yet remains unmarried. Not all of the council is completely confident she is the most suitable choice to govern our great nation with that information in mind.”

Freezing Belaor and his Spirits forsaken nephew until their hearts stopped became more and more appealing. If that didn’t work then drowning was another solid option; however, it’d require far more work. Murdering a noble would be frowned upon but Lord Belaor, frozen to the far wall, bloody and bruised from your fists was a satisfying image. He probably hadn’t considered that outcome before opening his mouth.

Your grandmother appraised Lord Belaor, a look you were familiar with. “We have never required princesses to marry in order to rule our country and I will not start now.”

“Of course not, Your Majesty. But my nephew is already married with several children. His line is secured in the event something unfortunate happens. Can we say the same of our dear princess? Spirits protect her, but we must prepare for the worst possible outcomes.”

He didn’t mention that six of Tsao’s ten children were bastards with rumors of more.

“I will take your concerns under consideration, Lord Belaor. You are all dismissed.”

Chancellor Dak echoed your grandmother’s sentiment and followed your grandmother to her private office, whispering urgently. 

Princesses did not rush, or stomp. They did not slouch or shrug. They did not fantasize of murder no matter how righteous. But of all the things you were not allowed to do, you refused to break in front of self important nobles.

You marched through the palace, pulse hammering in your ears with each step. If you were born with your mother’s fire instead of the late king’s water, then the palace would’ve crumbled to cinders. But you were in control. You just needed to get to the private pavilion at the edge of the gardens and then—

Your attendant, Lin, struggled to match your pace. “Your Highness, you have a tsungi horn lesson with—”

“Cancel it. Clear my schedule for the rest of the day.”

“But!” Lin objected but you already turned the corner before she could attempt to argue.

Wonwoo watched you destroy the training pavilion in fury. Targets exploded like fireworks from ice blades the size of his torso. When there were none left you bent ice into the shape of what looked suspiciously similar to the noble from earlier and started destroying those as well.

He was…terrified. You were not the poised princess he met at the barracks, nor the crafty opponent he met in the warehouse. This was something new. Something volatile. The leash of carefully crafted control slipped from the typhoon that waited beneath the surface. You held back all those times he watched you bend. Were all princesses trained to be so deadly?

A small part of him, a piece he didn’t know existed, felt relief when the nobles revealed you were unwed. He wasn’t a part of some grand betrayal. His only crime was being overly friendly with a woman above his station which shouldn’t really be considered a crime. Wonwoo hadn’t compromised you no more than you compromised him. 

“AH!” you screamed and the remaining effigies shattered into a million pieces. 

Despite the noise, no one came. This far edge of the gardens, so far from the palace that the hedges blocked the spires, seemed to be the one place not crowded with servants. 

Wonwoo remained in agonizing solitude as you collapsed on the ground, closed your eyes, and huffed like a toddler. You looked so similar in the orange and pinks of sunset as you did in moonlight and yet nothing was the same. The eerie calm you maintained during a fight, the confident sureness you’d win, had waned into whatever he had just witnessed.

You made a disgusted noise and rose to your feet, surveying the damage. When you finally turned, you gazed at him as if you forgot he existed. “Can you go away?”

“I’m doing my job.”

“Then do you have to be so loud about it?”

“I haven’t spoken to you since I got here.” 

Here as in the palace, simply because he hadn’t known what to say last night and chose to hide in his room instead. A room larger than any he had before, even those he shared with others. It was all so new and strange. He imagined you alone in your room, just down the hall. The benign realization that he was effectively alone with you returned those horribly vivid memories; the feelings of longing. 

Wonwoo kept his mouth shut because he wasn’t sure what would come out. Another teasing jab, or something more damning. Now with witnesses in every corner and maids who liked to barge in without a care, he couldn’t afford to slip.

You glided across the pavilion where there was a stack of towels and began wiping away the dirt and sweat clinging to your face. “Yeah, well, I can feel you judging me.”

“I’m not judging you,” Wonwoo sputtered. 

“Yes, you are!” you argued.

Wonwoo really wanted to say he was judging those old men and their unabashed scheming. He knew Lord Tsao, or of him. Knew he wasn’t fit to rule a pile of dirt let alone a kingdom; heard the stories of his tenants going hungry season after season to pay the lord’s gambling debts. 

But Wonwoo did not say those things. He doubted fanning the flame of your ire would have much benefit other than more destruction of more unfortunate targets and he’d prefer not to become one. Besides, he really does not want to talk about politics and marriage; he wants to go back to your apartment and take a long bath and try to find the sleep that evaded him last night.

“I’m just not used to having servants do everything for me,” he said.

“They’re doing their jobs,” you snapped before mumbling, “We’re all just doing our jobs.”

With the sun sinking below the line of the hedges, the pavilion cast in deep shadows. 

“Can you at least tell them not to be so thorough? One of them offered to help me bathe last night.”

“That's Han’s attempt at flirting. She thinks you’re handsome.” A blip of amusement crossed your face, so brief it could have been imagination but he savors it all the same.

“Glad I’m making a good impression,” Wonwoo said. He looked to the sky above, the stars already dappling the sky. They’re more visible here than in the city. “So if you’re old enough to be queen, why aren’t you?”

You deflated and Wonwoo instantly regretted the question. “All I’ve done since I was a child was learn what it was to be queen. I’ve studied history, war strategy, tax reforms. I’ve attended council meetings since I was twelve. It is all I am, all I have been raised to do from the second I was born. And yet… there is so much I do not know.”

“So you sneak out of the palace?”

“Partially,” You admitted, taking a seat on a nearby bench. “If I told them I wanted to see the city it would take days of planning, countless staff and guards. A full royal procession. Even then I’d only be allowed to see what's considered ‘proper’ which excludes pretty much everything. I wouldn’t have known there were places like the Red Lanterns or the homeless encampments near the warehouses. They all pretend those issues don’t exist so they can spend money on stupid parties or whatever else they want.”

“So you want to be a queen of the people.”

“My decisions affect those people. They are my people. Every war we enter, every tax collected, they pay for it while I sit on a throne behind ivory walls and treat them as numbers on a page. I will not let those arrogant old ass holes run my country into the ground while people suffer.”

“Such language from a princess,” Wonwoo gasped in mock shock.

“Shut up, before I freeze you to a wall.”

“How scandalous!”

You looked genuinely thrilled at the idea of sticking him to a wall and leaving him there until morning. 

“So what are you going to do?” he asked.

“I am going pray there is at least one suitable man at next week's festivities and marry him. My grandmother won’t make me but I know it’s why she’s decided to host every single dignitary, ambassador, and wealthy noble she could find. I have a stack of dossiers back in my apartment to review before bed.”

In his world, marriage was for love. Sometimes duty if there was a kid involved but mostly love. Two people choosing each other above all others, for the rest of their lives. That did not appear to be the case for royalty. Marriage was another political decision, picking someone from a catalog after ensuring they checked whatever important boxes.

“Oh. That’s…a good idea.”

“Yes,” you huffed like a petulant child refusing to eat their vegetables. “I can’t wait to have some random spoiled prince try and boss me around my own kingdom.”

“Then don’t marry a prince, I guess.” Wonwoo shrugged. “Or just make him watch your attack some targets again, he’ll be too busy pissing himself to think about telling you what to do.”

“Or I could freeze him to a wall,” you said but when Wonwoo risked a look at your face all he could see was sadness and defeat.

He didn’t like it. Defeat fit you like a jacket six sizes too small. Wonwoo didn’t have words of comfort, what could he say? But when words failed him, he had action.

“Alright, get up. Enough moping.”

“I’m not moping!” you argued, eyes locked on his with defiance.

Good. 

Wonwoo strode to the center of the pavilion without looking back, smiling at the click of footsteps following. “You are and it’s freaking me out.”

“Well, I’m so sorry to inconvenience you.”

“You’re a bad liar, Your Highness.”

You fumed, “I told you not to call me that.”

“And just what are you gonna do about it?” Wonwoo tensed, already prepared for the hit of ice against his skin. It felt good. Familiar. If you were fighting him then he knew what to do instead of feeling that odd desperation to make you smile. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

Two hours later, the pavilion was covered in soot and ice. The ground was scorched in some places and flooded in others. You finally tired and called for a truce that Wonwoo eagerly agreed to. How intimidating it must have been for the princess and her personal guard to limp back to your apartment together, covered in sweat and filth. 

Wonwoo slept like a baby.

The welcoming procession lasted hours. All manner of speeches, gifts, and presentations from the different delegations blended together into a dull thrum. 

Cheeks sore from smiling and butt numb from your perch on your throne, you thanked Prince Bavruq for the abalone chest filled with jewels that reflected light like the sea; greens, blues, and whites projected across the throne room as sun filtered in from the large windows. They were truly beautiful. Just like the other chest of rubies and diamonds from Admiral Gyan or the ensemble of lapis carvings from Senator Maoki. Or any of the other gaudish presents serving as a means to impress you and your grandmother and soften your opinion towards one of them. 

Perhaps you would have been impressed if your neck didn’t ache from the heavy combs of silver and gemstones littering your hair. 

Dinner was an entirely different fiasco.

A feast in the name of camaraderie served as an opportunity for all the guests to appraise and gawk at you like a prized komodo horse. It wasn’t unusual or new sans for the unabashed way they all seemed to be sizing each other up as well. There had been a stand off for the seats directly across and beside you; grown men acting like children wanting first turn with their favorite toy as they shouldered one another and mumbled threats under their breath. 

Your wine glass sat empty before the first course ever arrived.

“Your Highness, I hear you are partial to the tsungi horn. I would be honored to play for you.” A man beside you, dressed in a fine coat that clung to his broad shoulders, said. His golden eyes gleamed like a falcon’s.

“That would be lovely, Lord Char. Thank you.” You lifted your spoon once again from the full bowl of cold soup. Everyone else at the table had nearly finished but your guests insisted on keeping you occupied with conversation rather than eating.

“Princess!” called another man across the table. “I’m not as skilled on the tsungi horn, but perhaps I could play the dramyin for you?”

“I would be delighted, Commander Raza.”

You hated the dramyin.

Someone else began speaking and the edges of your bowl frosted, ice crystals floating across the oily surface as you tried to gain composure. A servant intervened before you could follow through on the idea of throwing it at the scraggly bearded noble boasting his accomplishments in poetry. Princesses did not launch their meals at unsuspecting men. 

Others began clearing the remaining dishes before new plates arrived with thick slices of meat covered in peppered sauce and vinegared vegetables. You were quick to take a bite before someone new could interrupt to discuss another dreadful instrument.

“We shall make an event of it,” your grandmother clapped from the head of the table. “A night to display the unique talents of your kingdoms. My granddaughter is partial to cultural affairs.”

“What a lovely idea but I don’t believe we have the time with—”

“Nonsense! Night after next we shall have a splendid performance,” she gazed at you with a bright smile as if to say deal with it. “But tonight, we will eat.”

You bit your tongue until dessert came. A terrible coincidence that the moon peach tarts with cream were your favorite. Maybe Han can bring some up to your room. A servant passed by, filling Lord Char’s glass. You waited with both hands tucked beneath the edge of the table for Lord Char to grab for his cup. When he did, you tugged at the blood in his veins, barely enough to make the muscles jump.

“My dress!” you gasped.

The few people who had not been watching you like a petting zoo animal whipped around, mouths open in horror.

“Your Highness, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean…Let me help you!” Lord Char stammered, the contents of his drink puddled across the table and your lap. He grabbed for his napkin but floundered with the realization he couldn’t touch you.

“I believe you have done enough, Your Grace,” you bit out. Wine stained the front of your gown in large splotches, the blue of the fabric mixing with red to resemble a giant ugly bruise. A true shame, to destroy such fine silks. But ruining a brand new dress was worth escaping the evening. “Excuse me.”

You ignored the silent reprimand blooming on your grandmother’s face, allowing servants to crowd you with towels as they led you from the dining room swiftly. Her ire would be dealt with later when the voices of whiny nobles no longer rattled through your ears.

Lord Char followed spouting more apologies. “Princess Y/N, my hand slipped! I would never mean to—”

“Excuse me, Lord Char. I find myself needing to change out of my favorite gown since it is ruined.” 

He deflated and stepped aside as you continued on your path.

“I am fine.” You brushed away the servants once the heavy doors shut, dismissing them back to their posts. “I will be retiring early this evening.”

Bending the liquid soaking your gown into a potted plant, you continued to your room with a pair of footsteps echoing behind.

Wonwoo watched the skyline of the city glow with light from your bedroom window while you…did whatever you did with your lady’s maids in your bathroom. 

Logically, he knew but refused to dwell on such things. He had plenty of knowledge of what you looked like naked and soaking wet, at least from the waist up. And plenty of imaginations of the rest. There was no reason to add to his suffering by ruminating the gentle splashes echoing through the door.

Or the…giggling.

How many times had you looked at this same view? Watched a city you never experienced right at your feet thrum to life every night while you remained out of sight? Locked away in your tower night after night, wallowing and alone after your staff retired for the evening; imagination running wild with all sorts of activities might be taking place and wanting a slice for yourself.

And then you did just that. An incredibly foolish endeavor but his chest warmed with fond pride. He imagined what you would say if presented with that fact.

Only foolish if I was caught. 

Wonwoo hadn’t considered the trouble you went through to sneak out the palace and down into the Middle district. It was at least an hour on foot assuming you didn’t encounter any delays, probably more since there was never a word of suspicious activity taking place in the Nobles Quarter. Foolish but not foolish at all.

Then he thought, how many nights had he paced the same streets just outside the palace walls, completely unaware that you were locked in this tower. That you ran straight across his path while he remained none the wiser. The night after he met you in the market, when he wandered the streets during his rounds consumed with thoughts of you; only for you to be right here.

Two people so close yet worlds apart.

After what felt like hours, your maids, Han and Sami, filed out to prepare your room, turning down the bed and stoking the dwindling fire.

Sami fed the flames another log and looked at him. “Mind helping?” 

“I’m not a butler,” Wonwoo said but manipulated the dying flame until Sami waved him away.

Technically, Wonwoo was allowed to retire to his rooms now. He’d swept the windows and building tops for potential threats and found none (he never did). But Han and Sami were good company despite their constant teasing. It felt good to talk to someone other than you or Mingyu. 

“So what did you think?”

“Of what?”

Han rolled her eyes as if he was an idiot to not understand exactly what she meant. “The suitors.”

Wonwoo could have said a great many opinions. Lord Char smelled like a brothel and Senator Maoki’s carvings looked rather phallic to be the sea serpents and lion turtles they were meant to be. Prince Jao’s singing made him want to jump off a building but not before pushing the man off first. Wonwoo especially didn’t care for the way they leered at you like starved wolves.

But his opinions did not matter.

“I’m not a matchmaker either,” he huffed.

“Men really undervalue the fun of good gossip.”

“What did you think then?” he asked, arms crossed. 

“Prince Bavruq is so dreamy,” Sami crooned.

“He’s forty!” Han laughed.

“I’ve always liked an older man. He’s so…dignified.”

“Then maybe he’ll take you back to the North Pole with him,” Wonwoo added. It felt good to be a part of something again. In the barracks they played games and joked every night. He didn’t realize how much he missed it until now.

“A flower is only as good as its petals and my petals are too delicate to be locked away in the North Pole!”

Han snorted from across the room. “You’re as delicate as those rocks Chancellor Kabaar gifted her.”

“Now talk about a man,” Sami swooned.

You entered the room wrapped in a thick robe. “You are dismissed.”

Han and Sami bowed out but not before giggling again. When your face soured it only grew louder.

“Something funny?” he asked, watching the maids leaving through the door as they cackled to themselves.

You sat on the chair next to the window – eyes on the same sights Wonwoo watched earlier – and blew out a disgruntled breath.“Besides the fact that I was doused with wine in front of a hundred people?”

“Yeah, considering you did that to yourself.”

You raised an eyebrow. It was difficult to keep track of the masks you wore: a proper princess in front of others, the confident siren of the field, the force of nature from the training pavilion. They all slipped and rose so swiftly Wonwoo couldn’t keep track. “You dare suggest that I would purposefully sabotage dinner?”

“Based on past experience I can empathize with Lord Char on being made a fool at your hand.”

“Save your sympathies for someone more deserving than him. He is a terrible flirt with a gambling addiction which I supposed would be less of an issue if he ever actually won,” you said sourly. 

At least he had a concrete reason to dislike Char besides his smell.

“So you admit you did it on purpose?”

“Of course I did it on purpose but if you want to go rejoin them then by all means. Jao is probably performing some of those Earth Kingdom poems still.”

“Are they always so self important?”

“They are princelings from the richest and most powerful families in the world. Usually they’re worse.” 

You passed Wonwoo a tea cup, and without thought he warmed it between his palms until it was steaming before handing it back. “Hard to imagine that.”

“At my eighteenth birthday party a game of ice marbles turned into a wrestling match and they destroyed the south courtyard.”

“Well then,” he clapped. “At least the talent show will be interesting.” 

Wonwoo turned to leave, the sound of your amused snort tugging at that warm place in his heart carved just for you.

If someone asked what he thought a princess’ day looked like before he came to the palace, he would have assumed it was days full of tea parties and mindless chatter. An easy life filled with nothing but comfort and luxury.

But the more time Wonwoo spent attending meetings and meals, the more he realized the palace was a viper pit covered in the finest lace and gold.

Meetings upon meetings upon meetings left his head swimming. Every conversation was layered with double meaning, from chatter on tea selection to the actual topics. It seemed like a knot that only became more tangled as he focused on unraveling it. 

You seemed to navigate it easily though, the eerie mask of diplomacy firmly in place. 

“Admiral Gyan, I understand that we have trade agreements,” you said, face smooth as a pearl but your eyes gleamed like you had your boot on his throat. “However, it is in the best interest of both of our people to make amends to terms that predate our births.”

Gyan picked at the spread of tea cakes and snacks, ignoring you completely in favor of snagging the last sweet bun. “All this talk of trade is rather tiresome, don’t you think? Tell me Princess, what is your favorite flower?”

Wonwoo watched you shut your eyes with a deep silent breath. 

He prepared to intervene if needed; however, the admiral deserved to be knocked around a bit. An hour long discussion and all he asked was about your favorite sweets and candies (his were cherry nut tarts and jennamite), if you preferred the summer to winter (he liked summers), and your opinion on whether the Royal Theater’s production of Love amongst the Dragons outdid The Lost Slipper (nothing compared to The Echoes of Spirits).

Wonwoo made the mistake of implying the need for a chaperone for these meetings, considering most verged on courting rather than business, and he knew most guards waited outside the door during private meetings. Wonwoo was mortified to learn he was not only a guard but a nanny as well. 

“Two birds one stone,” you said as Han smoothed the creases from your robe. “I need a guard and chaperone, and most leaders do not want to talk business with too many prying ears.”

The unsaid parts were clear; Wonwoo was a servant. Wonwoo was nobody next to these men who demanded respect for simply being born to the right people. The more appointments he attended, the more his resentment boiled. It was no different then the hundreds of times he stepped aside for men of higher status in the Nobles Quarter or the barracks. He never thought much of it before, it was simply something he’d been trained to do for years. So why did it bother him now?

Each dignitaries had done quite the same as Gyan, only perhaps a touch subtler; at least their attempts at flattery were related to trade agreements. Every asinine inquiry They were eager to make up for time missed at dinner the previous night, and your absence at breakfast this morning. Every single one began their time with a high chin and starry eyes, only to leave disillusioned from your insistence to discuss policy and finance. To their knowledge you were not officially seeking marriage, they were simply hopeful for the inevitable day you did. 

How unaware they were of how soon that day came. Wonwoo read the dossiers; scanned them for anything of consequence: questionable relations, suspicious behaviors. For security purposes, of course. But one was the same as the last. Second borns never trained to take their own crowns who liked to spend their days indulging in hunting or drinking. Or, sons of rich families with strategic influence and holdings dating back centuries. And then, there were the well off military figures with armies more loyal to them than their nation.

Admiral Gyan happened to be all three. 

“Ice lilies,” you sighed. “As I was saying—”

Gyan picked at some invisible lint at his sleeve. From his position against the wall, Wonwoo could see the way Gyan stared wistfully out the window instead of the papers you presented across the table. Not that Gyan could see them if he looked, his snacking left them covered in powdered sugar. Your attempt at serious political engagements turned into a place setting. 

Wonwoo focused back on one of the paintings across the room. It wasn’t his concern and yet, despite everything, he’d begun to consider you a friend, or at the very least an acquaintance; someone he felt familiar enough with to feel annoyed on their behalf. But Wonwoo didn’t need much familiarity for the way these men talked down and disregarded your words to leave ash in his mouth.

“I’m allergic to ice lilies,” Gyan said pensively.

You blinked. “How unfortunate. Again, these trade—”

“If your husband did not like something you preferred, what would you do?”

“Not marry a man allergic to my favorite flower.” You stiffened, realizing the error of your ways. Then you dipped your chin and whispered. “However, a man that helps my country would be far more valuable as a husband than a man who can tolerate my…floral preference. Would you agree?”

Admiral Gyan studied for a long moment before speaking again.

The ink of the new agreements dried by that afternoon.

A long day of discussions left you irritable. It would have been different if any of the lordlings you met argued their terms on tariffs and trade, or introduced their own nation’s concerns. But no. They’d rather interrogate you on asinine details like your favorite teas and opinions on Earth Kingdom literature. 

Perhaps that would be important after you officially took suitors into consideration but presently, they were invited with the intent of international diplomatic cooperation. Not eat all your food and ruin court records.

Dinner continued in the same fashion as the night before: too little eating and too much chatter. And since you couldn’t get away with bowing out early again, you were forced to remain through the entire ordeal. You managed a few bites between their lengthy monologues but after the meal you left with a grumbling stomach and a thunderous headache.

Back in your apartments, you fell into deep thought while Han and Sami flurried around as they pulled away your outer layers and plucked out the jewels in your hair. 

“Any interesting developments today? Men declaring their undying devotion?” Han asked as she untied your slippers.

“Prince Bravruq promised he would perform some water tribe dance tomorrow night…shirtless.” You smiled at Sami’s reddening face. “But other than that, thankfully, no.”

“Not even our favorite broody guard?”

“For the last time, Wonwoo is simply doing his duty. He does not have…feelings.”

“I don’t know,” Sami sang. “He seemed upset when we asked him about all your new suitors last night. And after the council meeting? He is rather handsome when he’s all roughed up.”

“I think he’s handsome all the time,” Han said.

“Even if he did like me, nothing could come of it,” you reminded yourself. 

“How many stories do you know where a princess falls in love with a commoner and they live happily ever after?”

“And how many do the princess and commoner lose their heads?”

“You’re always so serious. It’s not good for your complexion.”

“Well why didn’t you say that earlier?” you gasped. “There is nothing between Wonwoo and I. We are… friends. Maybe. But that's it.”

Sensing the end of the conversation, they drew your bath before you waved a dismissive hand. 

The hot water soothed away your anger from the day, softening the tense muscles of your shoulders and back. Your eyes slipped shut as you sunk further into the tub, head resting back on the rim of the tub. Events of the day replayed, your mind sorting successes and failures, what agreements remained unsigned and how to do so. And then there was the matter of courting. Your intent to marry was barely a whispered rumor amongst staff and yet these men tripped over themselves like bumbling idiots.

But you no longer wished to think of business and wedding bells. You’d rather indulge in more relaxing imaginations.

At first there was nothing at all, just the lap of hot water at your throat sending prickles along your flesh. The water was adorned with different oils and soaps and felt like liquid silk. It allowed your hands to glide without friction, teasing drags of fingers against your sides until your nipples tightened. You remembered what it was like when Wonwoo touched them, first his hands, then his mouth, then the satisfying sting of his teeth. The times you tried to imitate those sensations only left you wanting.

Memories of the encounters had brought little satisfaction. Recalling how it felt was nowhere near as good as it actually had been, never brought the same pleasurable ending. And yet you tortured yourself with trying.

He really was handsome. Not just in the narrow cut of his uniform that clung to his shoulders, or when he removed his outer layers to reveal what hid beneath. He was most handsome when he didn’t realize you were looking. When whatever lordling tried to win your favor with overzealous compliments, Wonwoo couldn’t help rolling his eyes and biting back a laugh.

Or when his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked through a particularly challenging form, muscles flexing and bunching; sweat gleaming off his skin, sticking his hair down. 

Your hand ventured lower, a tease between your thighs, fingers soft against your clit just how he touched you. The bathroom is quiet sans your breath; miniscule sighs breaking through your lips as candles flickered around the room. It’d do nothing to think about the field but maybe what you needed was a new fantasy.

With firmer pressure, you imagined Wonwoo walking in, finding you touching yourself and offering to help; taking advantage of the slick glide between your legs, filling that horrible emptiness with the warmth of his hand. The tub was large enough for him to join. You could plant in his lap and ride his fingers like last time or, he could sit behind you, the heat of his chest firm against your back as he left those maddening kisses against your neck again. 

You slipped a finger in, the tight squeeze nothing next to the desperation for more. The water muffled the sound of depravity as you fucked yourself timidly, only gentle splashes betraying movement and mute whines. Your chin tipped back as your hips rose in search of more. Rocking into the heel of your hand, you bit back a moan. The Wonwoo of your fantasy dragged you out of the tub and into bed, spread you beneath him to use his mouth against your core; kissing and sucking the same place you desperately touched. He teased how badly you needed him, eyes trained on your reactions from between your legs.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. Your muscles twitched again, clenching around your fingers, pretending they were his until your back arched and then—

The walls of the tub proved far too slippery as you thrashed into an orgasm, sinking beneath the surface unexpectedly.

You gasped for breath once surfacing again, flailing and splashing water onto the floor loudly. The bath had run cold in your mentally wandering and jolted you back to your senses. The delirious lull in your muscles fled as you kicked off from the bottom of the pool sized tub and back to your perch. 

Wonwoo chose that moment to barge in. 

He slammed the door open, rushing in and eyes scanning the room. “Is everything okay? I heard—”

“I’m fine!” you shouted, face heating as your voice bounced around the room. “I slipped.”

Wonwoo looked like he didn’t believe it. A waterbender having trouble in the bath? Unlikely. But he accepted it without question and straightened before asking, “Where are Han and Sami?”

Whatever warmth and longing rooted in your chest moments ago fizzled at his question. “Do you think I’m incapable of bathing on my own?”

“No, I…”

At that moment, Wonwoo recognized your state, eyes tracing the slope of your neck down, down, down until the surface of the water obstructed his view. The bubbles from earlier had fizzled to nothing, fine as sea foam and scattered like wispy clouds. If he stepped closer then everything would be visible. You were torn between sinking deeper and rising up, revealing your bare chest for his gaze. What would he do?

There was no one to interrupt, servants gone and the day done until sunrise. Wonwoo could touch you. You’d let him for as long as he liked, as many times as it took for that terrible clawing, demanding need to cease. You could drag him into the water and make every horrible dream and intoxicating fantasy plaguing you for weeks a reality.

But Wonwoo did nothing, simply stood there blankly, eyes trained on your throat. The warm light from dozens of candles danced over his face, flickering wildly but not revealing what was brewing beneath the surface of his glazed stare. You had an idea from the way his breath became labored and his fingers flexed but he didn’t move a muscle.

And then he promptly turned on his heel and strode back towards the door. 

“Wait,” you called, startled by your own voice. What were you doing? “Can you warm this for me?”

Wonwoo stopped immediately. You watched his shoulders tense, slowly rising to his reddening ears before he responded, “Your bath?”

The candles around the room grew for a moment. But he didn’t turn around, instead he looked over his shoulder and pinned you with an expectant look. You began to speak, a dismissal at the tip of your tongue, but ultimately nodded. Silently, he approached, eyes glued to your face. A jolt of heat cracked through your veins. Ears ringing, your breath grew stunted with every step that brought him closer. 

Wonwoo loomed over you, shrugging off his uniform jacket, still maintaining eye contact as each button loosed beneath his fingers. Your own twitched in response, aching to return between your legs for him to watch. He pushed the sleeves of his undershirt up to his elbows. He only broke eye contact to perch at the edge of the tub, back facing you. His hand sunk just past his wrist beneath the surface of the water. He grazed your knee and jerked away with a splash. You bit your tongue to stop from pushing your knee against him again.

His hand bunched into a fist, heat blooming through the water until steam rose from its surface. The contrast of his skin next to your beneath the water made your mouth water as he forced out more heat. 

As his hand rose once again, rivulets clinged to sinew and ligaments in his arm. You remembered how he looked in that field, soaked to the bone in the moonlight. The cling of his pants revealing the muscles below. Every ripple of those muscles when he moved, when he rolled into your grip on his cock.

“And this.” You nudged his hand with your wash rag, swallowing thickly when he accepted it. Again, Wownoo refused to look as his fingers flexed around the fabric, veins rising from the force of his grip, more of those tempting drops of water clinging to his skin. The strangest urge to suck them from his fingers rooted in your head. Steam rose from the cloth and he passed it back, hot and dripping.

“Anything else?” His hand remained floating between you. How badly you wanted to slide your fingers between his and tug until he found the arousal between your legs.

Now reach back into this tub and warm me, you thought.

“That–” you stuttered. “That's all. Thank you.”

Wonwoo left and the candles returned to their dim flutter.

After scrubbing your skin raw, you exited the bath. Despite your earlier fatigue, you knew there was no point in trying to sleep now. You’d only lay awake, tempted by the idea of sneaking down the hall to Wonwoo’s room and making your imaginations reality. There was no point sitting in your room, tossing and turning and itching and pining for something else. You could have slipped out your window and hid in the gardens, burn the restlessness in the training pavilion until exhaustion took over. 

But Wonwoo would find you. You knew he would; he managed to do so repeatedly. When you refused to retire for the evening he would offer to train with you. And then it was back to square one, the same tension from the close quarters of the bathroom, except with the bloodrush of bending and memories of the last time you both fought beneath the moonlight. 

The thick stack of papers balanced on your bed table; treaties and amendments forged during the day, signed in your own blood, sweat, and tears. Additionally reports from different advisors shuffled through the stack. If you couldn’t sleep then getting work done for tomorrow was the only solution. 

In the dining room, you rung a servant to bring leftovers from dinner you never ate. They returned with a spread of stuffed cabbage rolls, salted meats, and other dishes. Far more piled on the table than you could ever hope to eat, despite your ravenous appetite. Without the pretense of formal dining, you nibbled and read a new batch of reports from Lord Gilen about the Lower Block hospital you’d invested in since the spring. The numbers provided little distraction as you heard Wonwoo move around the apartment like a ghost.

“Sorry, I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Can’t.” You flashed the papers in his direction and went back to reading. You couldn’t look at him. Not sitting there in a robe and nightgown, skin still warm from the bath. He could part it easily, reach inside and—

He remained in the doorway, gaze like a heavy weight on your shoulders. 

“Eat. It’ll go to waste if you don’t.”

Wonwoo hesitated but then shuffled forward and took a seat at the opposite end before piling a plate with food. Still, your eyes remained glued to another row of swirled ink that turned illegible to your distracted mind as he slurped and grunted. More horribly tempting thoughts seeded as he continued.

Appetite vanishing with your sanity, you focused on carefully sipping your cold tea and read on. Lord Gilen’s missive was long and detailed and a perfectly appropriate distraction from the fact Wonwoo hadn’t put his jacket back on. 

“What are you reading?” Wonwoo asked.

“Reports for a hospital in the Lower Block I’ve been funding. Lord Gilen has been handling it for me.”

You continued reading. The lapse in judgment in the bathroom was just that, a mistake. You were a princess and needed to act like one; not some bumbling infatuated maiden. 

Still, you wanted to snag the pitcher from the table and hurl it at the wall.

“A hospital in the Lower Block? Yeah, sure,” he snorted. 

Your head snapped up. “I have the documents right here.”

“I’m telling you, there is no hospital in the Lower Block.”

“Look for yourself.”

Wonwoo scanned the pages, brows furrowed. A bit of sugar from the coconut puffs clung to his lip. You wanted to lick it off.

“I walked this street every time I went from the barracks to the warehouse. Unless he somehow demolished a condemned burnt out building and built a brand new one in its place in the time I’ve been here, then it doesn’t exist.”

The poise you’d painstakingly clung to since exiting the bath dissolved. If what Wonwoo said was true then Gilen was a liar. If the hospital didn’t exist then over twenty thousand gold marks were unaccounted for; twenty thousand gold marks vanished into nothing, and Lord Gilen was to blame. Lord Gilen who’d been in court since you were a baby, a favorite advisor of your grandmother’s, a close confidant. It was impossible.

Stacks of falsified documents with forged signatures, counterfeit invoices for materials to rebuild and train healers. Sketches and blueprints of the building. Patient records for people who didn’t exist. If Gilen was embezzling the money there was a paper trail of his misdeeds a mile long. 

But he had encouraged your investments; presented multiple projects of his own design, touting the needs of the people with zeal. Managed the entire process with assiduity and constant progress reports down to the last detail. Gilen wouldn’t conspire a tangled plot like this. It only took a gentle tug at a loose end and the entire tapestry of his scheming unraveled.

And yet, Wonwoo never provided a reason not to trust him.

Whatever simpering girl you’d been in the bathroom holed up behind a hard mask of anger. “Show me.”

“What?”

Brushing the papers aside, you rose. “I’m going to the Lower Block and you’re going to show me.”

You didn’t wait for him to follow, blinded by rage. The rest of the apartment was empty of servants as you paced the seating area. 

You ripped the overstuffed couches to shreds.

You screamed until your throat bled.

You stood in frozen silence and did nothing but stare blankly ahead.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“If you think I’m going to sneak you out of the palace you’re out of your mind.” Wonwoo said as he entered the room.

You turned towards him and stared for a moment. “Then I’ll go by myself.”

“You’re not going to the city this late at night, it’s at least—”

You rounded on him, until you were toe to toe with a finger digging into his chest. “You do not tell me what to do. I’m the princess and you are my glorified nanny.”

Wonwoo glared down at your hand twisted in his shirt. You began to withdraw it, realizing your mistake, but he snatched it with a firm grip and kept it between your bodies and met your gaze.

“I’m not one of your little lordlings you can push around and make agree just because you bat your eyes. Go to the city, and I will walk out that door and tell everyone.”

It wasn’t fitting for a woman of your age and rank to stomp and huff like a begrudged child but you did it anyway.

“Why don’t you just chain me to the bed and leave me until morning!” you sneered but faltered at the spark in his gaze.

“If you give me no other choice, I will.”

Yanking your hand back, you retreated to your room. “You are so infuriating!”

Wonwoo didn’t know how you got into the city. He didn’t know the passage in your office or the labyrinth beneath the gardens that lead outside the palace walls. Sneaking out your window was less convenient but no one knew the gardens better than you. If he chased, you’d lose him and he could only reveal your location by admitting he failed his one job. 

You blew out the candles and sat in the dark for a long moment as the moon rose outside your window. Shedding your robe and nightgown, you donned the servants clothes and cloak you stole long ago then stuffed the robe and some pillows beneath the covers in the shape of a body. 

Careful of the squeaky hinges, you cracked the window open slowly with baited breath. 

“Going somewhere?” Wonwoo asked from the doorway.

You stiffened. “If you must know, I was feeling a bit stifled and thought a breeze would be nice.”

“And the breeze gave you a chill so you got dressed?”

“Is that so difficult to believe?”

He entered your room and dragged the covers back with a quirked brow as if to say ‘Do you think I’m that dumb?’

“If you recall, I’ve done this countless times without you and never been caught.”

“There's a line between bravery and stupidity.”

“Are you calling me stupid?” you gasped, even in the dark you could see the exhaustion on his face.

“I’m calling you heedless. You can’t just run down to the Lower Block on a whim. It’s dangerous,” Wonwoo said, voice thin. “Where Galin says the hospital is is no place for—”

“For a princess?”

“For anyone to go alone. I wouldn’t go there alone because I know what happens on those streets. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into and you don’t care.”

In your haste safety seemed like a minor concern. You held your own enough times and this would be no different. Wonwoo didn’t seem to understand this wasn’t a matter of pride, it was principal. You weren’t a puppet that nobles could tug at your strings however they pleased. And if Galin, trusted and venerated Galin, was playing you a fool then there was no telling what the other, less favored, nobles did in the dark. 

Treachery was an infection in the open wound of your trust and you needed to amputate the limb before it could spread. But not without proof.

“I am being made a fool of by my own councilman,” you started. “He is stealing from me and thinks he can get away with it, that I would have no way of knowing because I’m kept under lock and key here. I need to see it with my own eyes. You do not have to come with me but you cannot honestly expect me to stay here."

Wonwoo watched for a long moment then stormed out of the room without response. You feared he ran to tell someone of your plan and raced to open the window.

“If we get caught I swear—”

You whipped around at the sound of his voice. Wonwoo strode in dressed in casual clothes similar to yours; trousers and a long sleeved tunic, a hood to conceal his face. 

“You’re coming with me?”

“Of course I’m coming with you. Knowing you, you’ll blast some poor drunk with a canon unprovoked and we both know how that turned out. Let's go.”

You silently led Wonwoo through a secret door in your private office, down, down, down until the walls transformed from the stone of the palace to dirt with wooden slats supporting the structure. There were no lanterns so he kept a small flame alive in his palm. He tried to keep his bearings through each twist and turn but soon failed. He figured the walk had been long enough to be far outside the palace grounds but each switch back left him more unsure.

Suddenly, the dirt floor turned into cobblestone and the walls followed soon after and then an iron ladder leading up appeared from nowhere. 

“This lets out beneath the crystal elephant statue in Emerald Park,” you said before climbing.

Wonwoo walked the perimeter of Emerald Park hundreds of times; circled the statue dozens of times and never realized there was a secret passage in all this time. He knew there were secrets the Nobles Quarter kept from him but not a path into the palace right under his nose.

The park was empty. Fountains bubbled and frogs croaked, the low light of gas street lamps providing enough cover to reach the southern exit towards the Middle District gates.

The shuffle of feet alerted him to a patrol up ahead. It was only another block to the gates leading into the Middle District and yet, he found himself having to crouch in an alley while a few guards walked past. You hid somewhere behind him. Truly, it was the last place he wanted to be with you after the incident in the bath.

He should have said no; refused to come anywhere near you while you were undressed. But he couldn’t help it. It was as if you were a siren singing straight to his blood. When you asked him to come closer, he tried not to look beneath the surface of the water but it was in vain. Even in his peripheral he saw the slope of your breasts, the pinch of your nipples. It hadn’t been better to look at your face. Your dilated pupils and flushed cheeks, bitten lips. Just like the night in the field.

It took all his willpower not to drag you from the tub, spread you on the bed, and taste you until all he heard were hoarse cries of his name; begging, praising, even a reprimand. He wanted them all and he half expected you to ask for them when he took his coat off; prepared to unbutton his trousers as well. A single glance would have told you everything, the tightness of his pants unbearable. But you asked him to heat your water and your rag and then dismissed him without another word. 

When he heard you pattering about the dining room, he planned to ask just what game you were playing but you pretended nothing happened. 

Now, he was hidden in the shadows of an alley with you less than a foot away and rather than worry about guards catching him, all Wonwoo’s thoughts were captured by images of you pressed between his body and the wall.

The patrol passed by without suspicion. Wonwoo signaled you to follow once again. The sooner you saw the imaginary hospital in the Lower Block, the sooner he’d be free to lock himself away until sunrise. 

As the gates came into view, you tugged Wonwoo’s sleeve and directed him off the main road, through narrow side streets and more alleys until the stone wall separating the Nobles Quarter and the Middle District came into view. Here, there were no guards and Wonwoo didn’t remember ever circling this area during his years of patrols. Another secret.

The wall was a foot taller than him so he hoisted you up before following. Restaurants and shops backed up to the wall on the Middle District side. This late, few were open, most windows and open doors framed employees sweeping or cleaning up the last bits of mess. None looked up from their work as you both snuck past.

Wonwoo’s feet pounded against the cobblestone as he darted down the street, you behind him, footsteps echoing loudly. Physical exhaustion felt good. His lungs burned and muscles strained but it gave him something to think about other than the heat of your chest against his body when dipping into an alcove to hide from a passing group. Most of the streets this far out were still crowded with late night partiers.

“Take off your hood,” he commanded, removing his own.

“Why?”

“Because we look like thieves. No one will recognize you out here and it’ll be easier to get through.”

Your hood came off, and Wonwoo was struck by how similar you looked to the night at the market. Hair fluffed around your face, the sheen of perspiration for the balmy night. He wanted to kiss you.

He stepped out from hiding and started down the street. 

“I’ve never been this way before,” you shared. The crowd grew thicker and forced you to remain tight to his side or risk drifting away. 

“You have. Down that street,” he gestured, “are the Red Lanterns.”

In all fairness, Wonwoo wouldn’t have known about the seedy avenue unless he stumbled on it as a teenager. It was the first time he saw…many things and he’d avoided it ever since. They were not memories he ever thought of voluntarily. 

The crowd flowed further away from the palace, until the stacked buildings of Merchant’s Row transformed into warehouses and empty lots. The people changed too. No longer did couples of all ages and children flitter about, gone were poets and musicians and artists busking on the corners. The only light came from the waxing moon and windows, not the gas street lamps up the block.

The Lower Block was a slum.

Wonwoo kept walking as you looked  around as if the street was a zoo full of exotics; eyes wide and shining in the light like coins. The streets used to be pristine, organized chaos at all hours. Guards, manufacturers, and merchants would weave between the buildings like armies of ants, raw materials pouring in from carts and goods immediately replacing them for transport. The Lower Block used to be pristine.

Now, old men crouched around overturned crates as they played cards and drank from green glass bottles; wiry kids chased stray dogs across the poorly paved street; vendors hawked fruits and vegetables more rotten than fresh, cloying the air with sickening sweetness. Uneven cobblestones hosted potholes large enough to bath in when it rained.

Luckily, no one paid much attention to a couple stumbling about like drunkards, they were all too absorbed in themselves. However, one glance and the entire charade would unravel. Your posture was straight as a razor edge, chin tipped back; as if you owned the world. You did, Wonwoo guessed. Everything – from the smallest pebble to the gigantic steamers in the western harbor – was yours. 

Wine houses lined the street, dirty alleys wedge between. Wonwoo knew the wine houses well enough; where other fighters from the warehouse went after matches to find another conquest for the night or drink themselves numb. He’d done both enough times to fear being recognized.

“Come here,” he commanded. You gave in easily when he hid his face in the curve of your neck. The scent of wildflowers and soap tickled his senses, and Wonwoo barely contained himself from pressing his nose more firmly beneath your jaw.

“What are you doing?” you murmured but didn’t push him away.

“Hiding.”

“What for?”

“Not all of us have the benefit of being anonymous.”

“You’ve been to these places?” you said. Wonwoo followed your gaze to a brothel, scantily clad women and men lounging around the wide porches, attempting to lure passersby. 

He didn’t answer.

“Is that why you said I’d be a bad prostitute? Speaking from experience?”

“I never paid anyone,” he argued.

“It’s okay if you did,” you laughed. “Not everyone can be so lucky with women.”

Even through his frustration, Wonwoo wanted to bottle the sound of your laughter; taste it on his tongue, feel it against his lips. He wanted to push you back into the darkness of the alleyway and remind you just how lucky he’d been not so long ago. He wanted to rip his hair out because agreeing to spend more time with you tonight was a horrible idea. 

At the next intersection, Wonwoo turned you down a narrow street. The lively crowd’s absence left a hollow silence. A handful of people milled about, shifting through the shadows like sharks. The warehouse Lord Gilen posed as a hospital stood halfway down the block. Covered in rotten boards and rusted chains, there was no trace that anyone had been near it in years. 

You pulled away from Wonwoo as you approached the ransacked building. “You’re sure this is it?”

“Even if I wasn’t, do any buildings here look like a hospital to you?”

Your fist clenched and he stepped back slightly. Wonwoo expected tangible anger like in the training pavilion; icicles the size of a human, a flood pulled from the humid air of the night. But you stood silently, unmoving. If your anger in the pavilion was a storm, Wonwoo felt as if he was in the eye of a hurricane. 

Hurricanes always brought wreckage.

You drew some water from a pouch at your hip, weaving it into the lock before it cracked and the chains slouched. Wonwoo didn’t wait for an invitation to follow you inside. 

There was no light inside, the windows were caked in thick dust. He lit a flame in his hand but there wasn’t much to see. An empty warehouse full of garbage: broken machines, rotten newspapers, broken crates. Something rustled beneath a heap in the corner. A fat elephant rat scurried out and darted out of sight.

Again, you stood still like a statue, soaking in the realities. Silence spread into the warehouse like an ink stain.

“Let's go.”

The walk back to the palace was in thick silence; not the silence of before when Wonwoo couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss you or turn around and renounce his assignment for the sake of his sanity. It was the unnerving silence just before something went horribly wrong. 

You kept ahead, shoulders square, head high. It wasn’t the performance you gave nobles, or the wildness from when bent your element. This was a new mask Wonwoo couldn’t decipher. 

In your apartment, you walked straight to your room and Wonwoo watched as the door shut with a quiet click.

Wonwoo woke covered in sweat. Even hidden behind a curtain of dark clouds he could feel the sun just peaking above the horizon. 

He wasn’t sure what the day held but he showered and put on his uniform like every other morning. When he exited his room, maids and footmen fluttered about like every other morning, you at the center of the storm. You acted the same as every other morning as well, sipping your tea and scanning a stack of documents.

Wonwoo hovered in the hall entrance, unsure of what to do. The anger charged atmosphere of last night vanished from the sitting room though that might be due to the presence of others than anything else. Displays of emotion were reserved for private, when no one but Wonwoo paid witness. Your face was impassive in the early dawn light, completely unperturbed. Unlike other mornings, he noticed the usual jewels pinned in your hair and clinging to your throat were absent. Only a pale ribbon tied around your neck. Your dress was a modest lavender, no flashy embroidery or outlandish cuts; but it was more to do with the woman wearing it than the dress itself. He didn’t know when he started paying attention to such things. But the first lesson you taught him was looks can be deceiving and you would bank on that fact.

“Stop hiding in the shadows like a ghost, it's off putting,” Sami said as she strode by him.

“I’m not hiding,” Wonwoo argued. If he was hiding it was for good reason; a man never knew he stepped foot into a riptide until it was too late.

“Like a little boy afraid Koh is hiding under his bed,” she teased.

“Leave him alone, Sami,” you called from the table. 

Sami turned and stuck her tongue out at him. This must be what it was like to have sisters.

“Everything in the Solarium is set and this,” Sami placed an envelope on the table in front of you. “Han is making copies of the records now.”

“After she’s done, Mingyu is to escort her to the archives after the meeting. Make sure people see them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Finally, you looked at Wonwoo. “Let’s go.”

You glided through the palace hallways, greeting everyone who crossed your path. Again, just like every other day. The longer you pretended last night didn’t bother you the more unnerved he became.

He’d never been in the Solarium and wouldn’t soon return back if it could be helped. It was a spectacular enclosed glass structure on a terrace overhanging the gardens. That was not the problem. The Solarium was a greenhouse turned into a meeting room with a low table in the center surrounded by cushions, with a tier of teacakes and pitchers precariously placed. Gigantic plants with leaves the size of dinner plates crowded so thickly around the walls it was like entering a forest. Blossoms in shades of red and blue and white and yellow peppered throughout, their floral scent thickening the air like a putrid perfume. There was no wind to move the smell, it stagnated in the humidity as fountains bubbled cheerfully in the background.

“What are we doing here?”

You ignored the question. “Can you firebend in here?”

Wonwoo conjured a small flame in his palm but with the abundance of moisture it swiftly began to choke and flicker. “You came to a greenhouse for what exactly?”

You started to answer but a knock at the door interrupted.

As the footman entered to announce Lord Galin’s arrival, Wonwoo moved towards the wall next to the door; his station where he oversaw your meetings time and time again. Best to play his part even if you refused to share the script you were operating from.

“Lord Galin,” you smiled in greeting. Every inch of you reverted back into the meekness Wonwoo witnessed that first day in the barracks. A delicate flower, so beautiful you forgot it’s filled with poison.

“Your Highness,” the old man bowed deeply. “You look more radiant than the last time I saw you.”

“I apologize we couldn’t meet in the Azure Chamber. It flooded sometime last night.”

Whatever happened in the chamber last night, Wonwoo figured you fashioned it somehow.

“No apologies necessary, the Solarium is just as magnificent though it is quite humid here.”

“I forget not everyone is as unbothered by it as I am.” You led Galin to the table, taking the far seat so you faced Wonwoo. He kept his gaze trained on the back of Galin’s head.

“Let us eat first and then we shall talk business, yes?” You sat and plucked a slice of pear from a serving plate. “How are your grandsons?”

“Citree just began his tutoring. He’s a very gifted firebender.”

You glanced at Wonwoo over the man's shoulder. “Like his grandfather.”

The puzzle pieces clicked into place in Wonwoo’s head. This was where you’d confront Galin, it’s why you chose a room so humid no flame could survive or thrive in its cradle. You wanted to ensure if Galin thought to retaliate, he’d have no ability to do so. Wonwoo rested a hand on the pommel of the blade at his hip and titled his chin in understanding.

“You flatter me, Your Highness,” Galin hummed.

You continued to chatter about all matters; Galin’s other committees, his wife’s health, the plum orchard on his property in the East. The man talked about himself too eagerly; bumbling through long anecdotes that made Wonwoo’s eyes glaze but you kept a warm smile on your face the entire time. 

A knock interrupted and Sami entered with a new plate of desserts and a wink at Wonwoo. 

“Your Highness, Your Grace,” she bowed and placed the treats in the center of the table. Wonwoo noticed she slipped something from her pocket into your hand.

But Galin didn’t seem to notice, too entranced by the pastries placed before him. “You remembered my favorite!”

“Of course, my Lord. My cook was worried they wouldn’t come out in time but it seems she is a miracle worker.”

You did not eat and Wonwoo wondered if you had them poisoned. 

“Fickle thing, star lace. You can spend all the time and money on the best ingredients, preparing them just right, but if the cook isn’t careful to see the process through then the entire thing is for naught. And then, you have hungry people who are only able to eat their disappointment.”

Wonwoo couldn’t see Galin’s face but his body tensed. He wasn’t sure what new role he was playing in your game. Not a chaperone and certainly not a protector. A witness? An insurance policy? 

You continued, “And if those people were royals, princesses perhaps with the ability to make assassinations look like accidents, well it wouldn’t be very wise of a cook to disappoint her, would it?”

“I have no idea—“

“I’ve heard recent reports of wildfires in the northern provinces. Uncommon but not exactly rare I suppose. How unfortunate would it be for one of those fires to consume the temple Citree is studying at?”

Despite sitting, it was as if you grew an inch taller with each word. Staring down your nose at Galin, Wonwoo wondered how anyone doubted that you were born to rule.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Lord Galin,” you cooed. “I’m only speaking in hypotheticals. However, I suppose that if someone decided to steal twenty thousand gold marks from the crown and leave a trail of evidence, then I’d be left with few options. Strip him of his title, take everything he values…really the possibilities are only as limited as my imagination.”

“What do you want?”

“Forty thousand gold marks and the names of any other nobles who have been cheating the crown.“

“Fort—forty thousand?” he sputtered. “I haven’t got forty thousand gold marks.”

“How unfortunate. You know what I’ve got? A condemned building in the Lower Block and months of documents pretending it’s not. So find forty thousand gold marks by tomorrow evening or you will find yourself mourning your grandsons by the next day.”

So this was diplomacy. Wonwoo’s skin prickled at the realization. It was as if he was witnessing a tsunami preparing to crash into land, taking everything and leaving nothing behind in its wake. Unforgiving. Ruthless. Brutal. Wonwoo softened towards Lord Galin but swiftly remembered the only reason the noble became the target of your rage were his own deeds. Galin was a thief and a liar. This was justice.

“You haven’t told Her Majesty about my deeds, have you?”

“No. I am offering you my mercy but if you prefer to beg for hers then so be it.”

“Fine, but I have no names. I don’t know the other ministers’ deeds.”

Wonwoo doubted that. Where one went, the rest followed. How many other projects were nothing more than shams to line their own pockets?

“Forty thousand gold marks returned to my coffers and a list of names with proof of crimes. Or is there a price too high for your family’s safety?”

Galin tensed, hands flexing at his sides. You warned him Galin was a firebender and Wonwoo recognized the signs of his element. He stepped forward to intervene but found your eyes over the old man's shoulders, a single look and he knew you didn’t need his help. The temperature in the room dropped until his breath puffed in a foggy cloud. Wonwoo didn’t need to see the tea cups to know they were frozen too; the glass walls and ceilings frosted despite the harsh sun beating down outside. The fountains silenced, and the plants twisted like snakes poised to strike. Wonwoo had been terrified of you before, but now he found himself too impressed to think beyond the fact you could send an ice blade through Galin’s throat before either of them realized what happened.

“You will sign these confessions,” you said, passing over the papers Sami slipped you earlier. “In the case you do what is required, then no one will ever discover them. But if you don’t…then I’m sorry for your loss.”

The plants relaxed and the fountains began bubbling enthusiastically once more. Frost receded, and you sat primly, plucking a fig from the tray of fruits as if you were discussing the weather. You wore as many masks as Wonwoo had teeth and the ever shuffling nature unnerved him.

Lord Galin glowered, “I was unaware royalty resorted to blackmail these days.”

“I won’t fault you for it, you don’t seem to be aware of much these days but I’m honored to bring you up to speed.”

After signing the confessions and sealing them, you dismissed Galin, face smooth, the wave threatening to destroy everything in its path receding beneath the surface without a ripple. As if it never existed to begin with.

Galin rose to his feet, wrinkled face red as rose petals, ink staining his fingers. His mouth opened to say more but shut when you raised a brow in question. Wonwoo became a new victim to his indignation.

“Filth!” Galin spat, chest puffed. “Get out of my way!”

You didn’t rise from your seat, or shout, or freeze the air again. Your voice was unnervingly calm, gaze as cold as ice. “Lord Galin.”

“Yes, Your Highness?” he bit without turning back.

To Wonwoo’s horror, your fingers bent at a rigid angle and Galin jerked to face you like a grotesque puppet.

Bloodbending.

It didn’t matter if Galin could bend or even if he had a knife hidden in his pocket. A flick of your wrist turned him into a living marionette, doomed to do whatever crossed your mind.

Wonwoo’s stomach sank. 

One hand held steady and you poured yourself a cup of tea with the other, spoon scraping the bottom of the porcelain cup when you added sugar. “I’ve heard the strangest tales of people drowning on dry land in the Umber Islands. It might do well to warn your daughters of such a phenomenon. They’ll be celebrating the festival there this year, won't they? I’d hate for anything unfortunate to happen to them.”

Galin’s eyes widened with horror and Wonwoo knew his face must have looked the same but you remained unaffected; sipping from your cup. 

“Thank you for sharing, Your Highness.”

“You may go,” you said, hand dropping to snag one of the pastries and pop it in your mouth with a pleased hum.

Galin scurried from the chamber and Wonwoo nearly followed. 

Wonwoo realized, among a great many things, that your threat to Galin is on his behalf; you’d go to the same lengths to get your money back as you would to settle an insult against him. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it’s a drop in the bucket of your ire at the noble, at everyone, at circumstance. Maybe you’d been looking for an excuse to put Galin in his place, flex your power over him completely. 

Wonwoo didn’t need anger on his behalf.

But he also realized he’d like if you were.

In the garden, the scent of honey suckles and damp earth perfumed the air. The clipped bushes and hedges stood proud, like rows of miniature soldiers as they carved a maze towards the ornamental pond bustling with turtleducks. You sat in silence with Wonwoo, pretending to read a novel by a new poet while he actually read his own. It felt odd to have him stand at attention while you relaxed, same as when Han or Sami or Mingyu hung around waiting for some task to do when all you craved was company; more friend than servant but Wonwoo felt more something than friend.

You weren’t sure what he’d think of the ruthlessness you wielded in the Solarium, and a part of you wilted at the idea that you cared so much for his opinion. It’s what had to be done. 

It didn’t stop the sick satisfaction knowing Galin wet himself when you yanked him around by his veins.

Han and Mingyu ensured Galin’s footman witnessed them delivering the fake confession envelopes to the archives while Sami hid the real ones throughout the palace. When Galin visited the archives that night hoping to destroy evidence against, he’d realize the fool he thought you to be was a grave miscalculation. And when he sent a messenger to ensure his grandsons’ safety, you had a spy set to follow; same with his daughters. He’d play right into your web just as you had his but this time you’d win; it was up to Galin to define what that meant.

Wonwoo had not spoken to you since leaving the Solarium and you wondered if it had been worth it. You felt like a child playing pretend; the first trial of being queen, what it would take to keep the nobles in line. You could have turned over his confession to your grandmother and been done with the entire ordeal but you wanted to beat Galin on your own; needed to outmaneuver him without her help.

Only time would tell if you had.

Now, you sat in the gardens and tried to carry on as normal as if you didn’t owe this success to your guard. You trusted him. Not just to protect you if someone should attack, Wonwoo would do that for anyone. You were sure of it. Even with Sami and Han’s constant teasing he would protect them if needed. But it was beyond expecting him to do his duty. He gave you proof, put himself at risk of getting into trouble if you were caught together. He helped you in a way no one else ever could.

You’d have to find a way to thank him later, when the rush of the day wore off and you didn’t replay the hundreds of things you could have done differently.

You knew he wouldn’t appreciate the money from Lord Galin, he’d insist it went back to the people. He liked to read, you knew that much. Maybe a book? But that didn’t feel grand enough to convey the level of your gratitude. Recommend him to Aiko for a promotion? You’d have to ask him.

There were other things you could do for him. Indulge in the urges that plagued you since you spotted him the first night at the warehouses; let him touch and taste and tease as much as he wanted; finish what started against that wall in the market and rekindled last night. It’d be an entirely inappropriate reward but you wanted him and it was a convenient excuse to let him have you.

Wonwoo interrupted your spiral. “You’d do it, wouldn’t you?”

For a moment you thought he meant the fantasies flashing in your head. Yes. Without question. Wanna run to the gardener's shed right now? But when you looked away from your book and towards his face, something unfamiliar clouded his face. Something like awe and fear and disbelief morphed into one.

He meant Galin.

“Yes.”

“Is it that easy?”

You shut your book with a snap; no point in saving the page, you’d have to start from the beginning anyway. “It's not easy.”

Galin’s daughters had been your playmates as a child, before they married and went with their husbands. You attended Citree’s and his brothers’ first birthdays, sent gifts for the Winter Fete every year. It was not easy but Galin made it necessary. Wonwoo didn’t understand. He never would.

Rising with the intent of excusing yourself to somewhere he couldn’t follow, you found one of your guests approaching.

“Your Highness,” Senator Maoki bowed. “I apologize for interrupting you but I was hoping I may accompany you on a walk through the gardens? I’m told you know them best and I’d be honored with a tour.” 

I would rather hang upside down completely naked and recite my family lineage back fifteen generations. 

Senator Maoki was several inches shorter than you with a boyish face, baby fat firmly in place despite his age. He didn’t look old enough to drink let alone wed, and he wouldn’t; not to you at least. But Maoki could serve a purpose now.

You smoothed a hand down your skirt. “That would be lovely.”

He trailed behind as you swept towards the arch leading back to the palace; a short tour through the more impressive parts of the garden, then you could hide away in your room until night came.

“I’ve been trying to introduce myself but your schedule is so packed, Your Highness,” Maoki huffed.

“Lots to do when running a country.”

“It’ll be grand when you're married,” Maoki said. “then you won't have to worry about such things.”

You stopped abruptly. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean to say,” Maoki stammered, “you’ll be busy raising your children so your husband would naturally step in as king.”

“The man I marry would be Prince Consort, not King.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Maoki must have sensed your discontent and scrambled to change the subject. He looked over his shoulder and turned back to say, “Does he follow you everywhere?”

You continued down the pebbled pathway, flowers exploding in the greenery like vibrant fireworks, Maoki and Wonwoo on your heels. “He’s my guard, it’s his duty to protect me.”

“I could protect you, Your Highness.”

You couldn’t protect a block of ice in the South Pole.

Maoki puffed up his chest but looked more like an baby otter penguin than something intimidating. There was a noise behind you that sounded suspiciously like a snort. At least Wonwoo found him entertaining.

“I’m sure you’re very capable,” you dipped your chin to the orange blossoms, their sweet scent offsetting the sour taste of that lie. 

“I’ve never understood women’s affinity for flowers. They’re just silly flowers.”

You drew back to full height, your chin an inch or so higher than the top of Maoki’s hair. “These flowers will become fruit that will feed everyone at the palace. That hardly seems silly to me.”

His eyes rolled. “I guess but not all flowers turn into something useful.”

“So you only see value in things that may be of use to you.”

“No! I mean, yes, but I wouldn’t—”

“Some things’ only use is the comfort they bring by having them near.” Like Wonwoo. The realization jumped at you like a bolt of lightning in broad daylight; you shove it away before thinking too much of it. “Did you not have a favorite toy or blanket as a child?”

“I had a rock.” Maoki declared proudly.

“A…rock?” 

“My favorite rock, come I’ll show you.”

Maoki trudged past, leaving you and Wonwoo alone for a moment. When you look up at him he’s smiling; an amused twist on his lip like he too can’t believe Maoki cuddled with a rock as a child. 

That comfort you described crept up, the warmth in your chest, the knots in your muscles loosening. All by just standing there with him as the birds chirped and the breeze rustled the leaves and swirled the scent of fresh rain and the blooms. You knew the want he brought with him; the urge to touch and be touched, to be pressed into the wall and drag him against you. But this was different. A new urge to stand in silence, knowing Wonwoo stood only a few inches away, and enjoy the gardens in soft silence; share looks you both understood without speaking; laugh at nothing and everything and look to see if he was laughing too. 

“Your Highness?” Maoki called.

“Coming.”

Next to the fountain, Maoki held a stone the size of a fist. “A good rock is a lot like a woman. Some may be unassuming from the outside, but, if you take the time to look at what's within, it can dazzle. Look.” He cracked the stone open and the inside glittered in the afternoon light like a thousand stars captured together.

“That’s beautiful.” If you didn’t have hundreds of things that sparkled then you might have been more sincere in your compliments. You might have bitten your tongue. “Does your rock do anything?”

Maoki frowned. “No, Your Highness. It’s meant to be admired for simply existing, a thing of great beauty and great value that lasts far longer than flowers.”

“But it doesn’t smell as nice as flowers,” you sniffed.

“No, I think flowers might have the advantage there,” he joked back. “Shall we walk some more?”

Walking the gardens is nice even if you’ve traced the same paths so many times there are permanent footsteps to follow. It’s the time of year the grass is as soft as feathers and you wish to toss away your shoes and to feel it beneath your feet; you would if Maoki wasn’t there and it was just Wonwoo.

Another fountain came into view; water trickling down the many tiers in thick sheets to the basin where turtleducks paddled across the surface and fish swam just beneath. Maoki led you around the edge and the turtleducks and fish followed close, expecting the treats you frequently spoiled them with. You focused on ignoring whatever Maoki rambles about, thinking through meetings and to do lists. 

That’s when something crashed into the water behind you.

“Wha—” you gasped. 

Wonwoo sat in the fountain, soaked from head to toe, the fabric of his uniform dark and clinging like a second skin. His eyes blazed, trained on Maoki. “I tripped.”

“You should go change, Captain Jeon. Wouldn’t want you dripping all over the gardens.” Maoki straightened, back rigid as if he was sizing up Wonwoo. A ridiculous sight; like a puppy sizing up a wolf.

The birds no longer sang, and the wind held its breath.

“Are you alright?” you asked, extending a hand.

Wonwoo ignored it, rising to his feet. “I’m fine, Your Highness.” 

The correction is on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back. The last person needing to witness your familiarity with him was Maoki, the horrible gossip. You wanted to laugh; you would have if Wonwoo didn’t look so vicious and Maoki’s face didn’t burn red with fear. 

You tried not to stare as he tugged off his soaked coat, revealing the fabric of his undershirt nearly translucent from the water. Tried as did, you failed spectacularly. What was a woman to do when a man as handsome and defined as Wonwoo stood in front of her practically naked from the waist up? It wasn’t fair to expect anything other than gawking and imaginations.

You could have bent the water from his uniform and left him perfectly dry, continuing your walk with the senator as if nothing happened. You could have turned around and left Wonwoo standing there to dry his uniform with his own body heat. Of the many things you could have done, you decided to leave Maoki to his rocks and give yourself privacy before you scandalized the rose bushes.

“I think I’ll retire with Captain Jeon, I must prepare for tonight's festivities anyway,” you said. 

“But, Your Highness!”

You turned on your heel, a soaking wet bodyguard following behind. What you didn’t see was Maoki and Wonwoo sneering at one another but you guessed as much. You hid your satisfied smile in your sleeve.

Wonwoo soaked in the tub for what felt like hours but knew the sun barely began to set when he returned to his room. You had been whisked into your room by Han and Sami for last minute alterations with the Royal Seamstress and he was clearly not invited by the door slamming in his face. Fair enough, he didn’t need to see you naked. Not after what happened in the bath.

He didn’t have many possessions in his room: a few books, his clothes, a framed picture of his family. It’s why he noticed someone left something on the unused desk in the corner so quickly.

A pristine copy of The Pearls of Drak sat on his desk; not the one ruined by the fountain or more specifically Maiko. The pages were aged and the cover softened, but far nicer than the one Wonwoo owned. 

He brought his books from the barracks with the assumption he’d have a little free time, not realizing he’d need to ration their entertainment. Wonwoo had nothing but time these days. Mornings started late, and you seemed to prefer ending the evening early – at least publicly. He couldn’t sleep well knowing you were just down the hall, or the nights he heard you pacing in the sitting room.

There was another book beneath it. Poems of Stars. The title had faded to the point it was nearly illegible, the leather cover worn to the point it thinned around the edge. Many of the pages were nicked or ripped at the corners, and as he flipped through he found stains from tea cups and smudged ink, the spine creased and broken that it laid flat on almost any page.

He never read it before but someone clearly loved it, poured over the text over and over again. As excited as he was about the books, his heart squeezed at the orange blossom, petals dried and browned, pressed between the pages. 

Some things’ only use is the comfort they bring by having them near…

He knew they were both from you. Were these gifts or loans? Wonwoo needed to ask. The poems were well loved and he doubted you part with it but the fact you left it to him at all, even only temporarily, made him flush.

One second you were asking him to heat the bath you sat in, the next threatening nobles on his behalf, and now you gifted him something you held dearly. Wonwoo couldn’t begin to think what any of it meant.

The idea of you in his room made him nervous, seeing the few things that belonged to him in the space that certainly wasn’t his own. What did you think of it? Of him? How little he had in comparison to you? 

Maybe if he had the money to study he’d be at a university and not in the palace; and if he was at university then he’d never be guard, and if he had that kind of money he’d never have stumbled into the warehouse that one night to fight and lose. He’d never have gone back to fight and win. Never would have fought and lost against you, never would have found you again in that field. 

There was no point in obsessing over what ifs or hypotheticals. But if Wonwoo had, then he supposed if none of this happened, he’d never have a book with a silly flower with no use at all other than the comfort that it came from you.

He dressed and left his room, entering the hive of the main apartment buzzing much like the morning. You were tucked away in your room, out of sight but not for long.

You came out in pink silks, so pale they looked white, and the jewels absent from this morning were back in place, woven intricately through your hair.

Wonwoo found comfort in the fact he wasn’t required to speak, he had no idea what would have come out of his mouth if he did. You didn’t seem in the mood to talk either. After this morning he couldn't blame you.

Rows of chairs filled the Grand Room, a makeshift stage at the front for each man to present his talent. Most of the seats were already full but two upfront were left empty for you and the Queen. 

Servants wove through the clusters of nobles and dignitaries with trays of lemonade and wine, others with plates of cookies. 

Wonwoo stationed himself against the wall at the side of the room, a clear view of you and the performances from the shadows. He didn’t want to miss the bumbling fools embarrassing themselves; it was too good an opportunity to pass up. 

It started innocently enough. Lord Char played a ballad on tsungi horn; Admiral Gyan recited a long winded ode from Poems of Laghima and ended up making up the latter half after he clearly forgot the words; Commander Raza’s dramyin performance was loud and off beat, impressive given he performed solo. Maoki turned a rock into a turtleduck figurine which was almost realistic if the turtleduck’s body had been flattened but its head enlarged.

You accepted it with a tight smile and a small dip of your chin. Someone else would have thought it modest but Wonwoo caught the shake in your shoulders, and the clench of your jaw.

More followed with less than impressive routines: hoop rolling, card tricks, and slight of hand that wouldn’t impress a toddler. Polite claps filled the hall after each stint. 

The entire time Wonwoo cut glances at your face, waiting for flashes of amusement or confusion to match his own. Admiral Gyan danced on clunky feet without music and you hid a smile in a glass of wine, a private smile you look at Wonwoo to share and he’s happy for the shadows because he’s gnawing on his lip to keep from reciprocating. Prince Jao sang, loudly and off key, the look that passed between you and Wonwoo nearly ended with you both in tears of laughter.

Then, Prince Bavruq’s turn came around.

Sami would be disappointed to miss the man shirtless, chest obviously oiled. You peaked back at Wonwoo with an arched brow as if to say ‘Seriously?’

Bavruq flexed and stretched through different tumbles, commanding the water from two large barrels rolled in for his performance. Wonwoo watched with admiration. Obviously the man was a skilled bender but he couldn’t help thinking you were better. Bavruq dropped into a low stance, two arches of water spiraling overhead, and your head tilted in interest. In the light of the candle chandeliers, the water glittered much like the stone Maoki presented in the garden. 

Your eyelids dropped, head tilted in thought. If he didn’t know better then it’d appear you were enamored with Bavruq but Wonwoo saw the challenge. You were sizing Bavruq up, like a predator assessed potential prey. If it came to it, Wonwoo bet on you.

Bavruq froze the water in a spectacular arch, bowing for applause. You clapped politely and Bavruq left the stage. The dread of Sami’s comments later tonight started to root in Wonwoo’s stomach.

“Wonderful!” the Queen turned towards you, her next exclamation echoing through the hall. “You are all so impressive, I don’t know how you will choose a husband.”

Your eyes widened as you floundered. Wonwoo couldn’t believe it himself but he knew this was the plan from the start; however, the Queen clearly desired to speed the entire thing along. All the men that just performed swooped to surround you like moths to a flame, you sneered something to your grandmother before looking at Wonwoo with pleading eyes.

It wasn’t his place to intervene, even if you wanted him to, even if he wanted to. Standing on the sidelines, Wonwoo watched you navigate the viper pit as your grandmother smiled boldly.

Another hour passed before the swarm dissipated. Your smile remained fixed the entire time but Wonwoo noticed the strain in your cheeks, the dull glaze cast over your eyes, the clench of your jaw. When you were finally able to get away, he followed you back to your suite ten paces behind like he always did.

Back in your apartment, you dismissed Wonwoo and others with a wave of your hand, locking yourself in your room without a word. 

In his own room, try as he might, sleep evaded him. Every time he came close Maoki’s sniveling face flashed in his mind, or the panicked look on your face in the crowd of hungry suitors. Or the way you looked at him in the garden, like there was a joke just for you two. 

He couldn’t sleep and he refused to call the kitchens for tea to help so Wonwoo decided to read. He read The Pearls of Drak enough to recite the entire thing in his sleep so he grabbed the new book and flipped through the pages until his eyes caught on “The Belle Dame.”

I met a lady in the meads,  Full beautiful—a spirit’s child,  Her hair was long, her foot was light,  And her eyes were wild. 

Well that certainly sounded familary.

Wonwoo scoured page after page of the poem. How the man yearned for a woman he couldn’t have, enchanted by her to the point of despair. Wonwoo’s chest ached as he read on, hoping for some happy ending. And then the poem ended; no happiness, no peace. The man woke up on the hillside – alone – wandering in ruins forever looking for the woman he loved who will never be found. 

Wonwoo read over and over again, obsessed in his own way, trying to work out a new angle, some way to spin the story into one he’d be satisfied with. But finding that ending proved as easy as finding sleep. After the tenth time, Wonwoo snapped the book closed and shoved it beneath his bed.

He didn’t sleep very well. Every time he verged just on the seam of sleep, a pair of wild eyes stared back at him.

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i need him in a way that creates a new sin in the bible

Blow by Blow | 0.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

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Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, no warnings in particular for this one

…

“Why aren’t we doing what you and Payback were doing?” You question as Bradley straps the pads to his hands. He scrunches his brows and looks down at the guys, then back to you incredulously.

“Because I’m not going to hit a girl.” He scoffs back. You suppose that would be unfair, but not because you’re a girl. Because he has been doing this for as long as he can walk, and you’re about as graceful on your feet as a deer on ice.

“So what’s this?” You tap your hands together, wearing gloves that fit this time. There aren’t really any women’s gloves for you to borrow — girls don’t really come here, let alone train here. Nat let you borrow hers. She’s watching with interest at the side of the ring whilst Mickey covers her 11am session.

“Call it target practice, not that you need it apparently.” Bradley jokes, tilting his head from side to his, neck still stiff from that shitty couch upstairs. He’s just messing around, the lamp didn’t even leave a bruise — hitting the floor, now that’s left a mark around his elbows but he’s fine. He’s been through worse.

Rooster hadn’t planned on getting to drunk to drive home last night — spending the day with a sore neck after having to walk back here to spend the night, and also being assaulted with a lamp — those seem like fair punishments for his lapse in judgment.

Your ears heat up slightly. You swallow and offer him a sheepish smile.. “Sorry again, about that.”

He looks you up and down and then smiles, rolling his broad shoulders back. It’s been a while since someone looked at you like he does. “Sorry for breaking in and almost flashing you.”

It’s in your head. You’re getting in your own head about this. It’s just because you saw him and his stupid tanned muscles last night. He’s not flirting with you.

“Almost…?” You aren’t quite sure you heard him right, you take a step closer. He smiles at you and knocks the pads together in his hands, flirting.

“Yeah, I usually sleep naked — you stopped me right in time,” He chuckles, then sniffs. “Alright. You ready?”

You stare at him. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. You glance across at Phoenix, who is close enough to have heard what he just said to her. She’s practically wincing.

Swallowing softly, you turn your attention back towards him and nod.

The terminology he uses isn’t exactly beginner friendly, but you understand what he’s asking you to do. Different combos, different variations of swinging towards the pads on his hands — hardly rocket science.

Jab. Jab. Hook. Bradley sighs and shakes his head, “Hit like you mean it, Bambi — this is just sad.” He taunts. You frown, shooting another glance towards Phoenix. “Now!”

You flinch at his raised voice, blinking hard as you turn your head back to face him. Phoenix pinches the bridge of her nose. She probably should have filled him in. Taking a deep breath, you do as he asks. His brows furrow as you complete the combination.

He looks over at Phoenix at the edge of the ring and notices her shaking her head at him. He pauses.

“Have you ever even hit anyone before?” Rooster asks, making no effort to hide his distaste for your current technique. There’s a judgment to his tone that you weren’t expecting. You shift your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

He’s hot and cold, and confusing.

No one ever took it easy on him during his training, and that’s what made him good at what he does. It wasn’t until someone took pity on him that it all got screwed up. Going easy on clients doesn’t work.

“No…?”

“Alright, um… maybe we take a couple of steps back,” He lifts his hand and bites the Velcro on the back of the pad, shaking it off of his right. hand and then pulling it off of the other. They clatter to the floor messily. Your skin burns, embarrassed. You’re in the centre of the gym, quite literally on a platform. Rooster curls his fingers towards Phoenix, “Nat, wanna give us a hand?”

“Someone ought to.” She scoffs as she pulls herself up and steps under the ropes. She smiles and nudges her elbow into yours. Bradley rolls his eyes playfully at her.

The practice that you do next is much more tame. Natasha holds your hips, making sure that you stay in ‘stance’. Her arm guides past yours, her fist moving from vertical to horizontal — arm rotating as she extends it. Slow movements with her chest to your back.

You breathe out softly and copy.

“No, not —“ Bradley sighs and catches your wrist, stepping closer. He extends your arm slowly and turns it like hers, then nods. He looks up, meeting your gaze. “Like that. Okay?”

You nod softly.

Footwork is important in boxing, you know that much. It’s as important to be fast as it is to be strong. And yet, Bradley’s got you standing completely stationary, extending your arm and rotating it.

It’s important, making sure that your jab looks good before he moves on to anything else — walking before running, and that kind of thing. You’re already sticking out like a sore thumb, doing this with them just makes you burn with embarrassment.

Still, you won’t admit that here.

After maybe thirty minutes, Bradley reintroduces the pads. He stands in front of you, Phoenix holds your hips.

“Go ‘head, Bambi — impress me.” He murmurs, holding the pad up in front of you. Slow at first, you do exactly what he showed you. His lips quirk at the edges. He nods. “Mhm. Harder.”

Natasha looks past you, staring at him, unimpressed. She knows her best friend well — and he’s an idiot for flirting with you right now. It’s not his fault, he’s just messing around. He likes to tease girls, it’s part of the fun.

Besides, as far as he’s concerned, you broke up with your asshole boyfriend and are probably looking for a rebound. Looking at your short skirt and the tank top that you had strolled in here in, Rooster would be more than happy to be your rebound.

His tongue slips forwards and wets his lips as he glances you up and down. He’s well aware that there are people watching — the guys that train here aren’t used to there being a pretty girl in the ring. They stopped looking at Nat after she launched a dumbbell at a guy, maybe it was a bit much, but it had worked.

You continue, hitting into the pads. Natasha can feel you relaxing into it.

“Harder.” Bradley insists, the impact of your punches barely rocking the pads in his hands. You do as he says, and he lets you go on for a while, but you’re holding back.

It’s boring.

“Alright. I’m gonna take a break before Lou shows up.” Bradley decides finally, taking the pads off of his hands and stepping closer to you. You lift your chin, eyes on him as he invades your space to set the pads down on your forearms. “Not bad, Bambi.”

You’re left awkwardly holding them, still wearing Nat’s gloves as he steps under the ropes and drops down from the ring. Natasha takes a split second to watch him walk away, then shakes her head. Asshole.

“Ignore him,” She mumbles, shaking her head as she takes the pads from you and tugs at the velcro on your gloves. “He’s a dick to everyone that he trains. Method in the madness or whatever.”

You almost scoff. If that’s him being an asshole, you can handle that. Compared to what you just walked away from, this is a playground fight. You can handle your own here. Especially with her to back you up. You smile softly at you new friend.

“Maybe next time, I could practice with just you?” You suggest gently. Natasha nods, smiling back at you.

Bradley whistles as he tucks himself back into his shorts, stepping away from the urinal and walking over to the sink. He wets his hands, then soap, then washes. The soap in here is cheap and never lathers right, but that’s Mav’s department. Bradley couldn’t care less about this kind of crap.

He looks at himself in the mirror above the sink, wiping his hands on his shorts and running his fingers through his hair. His eyes skim along the long, jagged split in the mirror. Somebody should probably get that fixed.

“Now you listen to me, dickhead,” Natasha starts, unfazed as the door slams into the wall. Bradley flinches, eyes going wide.

“Nat, this is the men’s room!” He protests, turning around to face her, eyes going wide. She continues towards him as the door swings shut again, pointing her finger into his chest. Bradley stares down at her, confused.

“Don’t fuck around with her like that. It’s not what she needs right now.” She wants him seriously, looking up at him, eyes narrowed. She might be half his size, but she has shown him more than once that she’s not to be messed with.

Still, that doesn’t mean he won’t argue back.

“Are we talking about me flirting with her?” Bradley asks. He folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the counter. Natasha shoves at his chest.

“Can you just be normal around a girl for once in your life, please?” She huffs.

“Everyone needs sex, Nix. It’s natural.” He shrugs calmly.

“Not her — not from you,” Phoenix insists. Bradley stares at her, trying to read her face. All he knows is that Phoenix ran into you after you had dumped Jett. From what Bradley knows about Jett, he wasn’t surprised that you didn’t want to see him again to grab your stuff. He’s starting to think that there might be more to it than that. “Just don’t mess with her head right now. I think this place could be good for her, and you’re going to ruin it. So — don’t. Okay?”

“Fine, but if she comes onto me, then—“

“She won’t.” Phoenix answers, shaking her head as she turns away from him. Bradley scoffs as she pulls open the door and leaves him in peace finally.

After over a decade of friendship, Natasha has never cock-blocked him before. Sure, she has done her best to dissuade him from making some poor decisions, but nothing like this. He turns towards the mirror and frowns slightly.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that whatever went down between you and your ex-boyfriend was bad, but Bradley’s curiosity claws at him. He thinks about it.

Sad eyes, shaking hands. What came before.

Phoenix thinks that time heals. Maybe that’s what she’s trying to give you — time. Bradley disagrees. He has had plenty of time and he’s still just as angry as he was back then. Getting better doesn’t work like that, not for him.

“Shit…” You mutter softly, staring at the text. Your heart sinks.

Jake raises his eyebrows as he wipes at the back of his neck with a towel. He takes a long drink from his water bottle and lets out a heavy breath, “Everything okay, kid?”

You look up from your phone. Clearly it’s not, Jake can see that much on your face.

“Y-Yeah… yeah,” A soft shake of your head, you sigh and close your eyes. Do not cry, do not cry — don’t fucking cry. “My friend just let me down is all.”

“Anything we could help with?” Coyote asks without hesitation. Jake looks at him and scrunches his brows. This is how they always get roped into the stupidest shit. Javy smiles sincerely at you.

These guys have already done too much. You shake your head again, “No, I was just supposed to get some things from my old place today. My dog and stuff. My ex is going to be at an appointment and it’s like the one time that he’ll be out… it’s — it’s just annoying.”

“I love dogs.” Javy declares. Jake drapes the towel over his shoulder and shrugs. He knows about what happened.

“I’ve got a couple of hours free.” Jake agrees.

They’re standing side by side, both sweaty and clearly exhausted. Without looking at each other for reassurance, they offer you the same soft, sincere smiles. You stare at them.

Jake dips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his keys, “My car or yours, kid?”

Your old apartment is about a twenty minute drive, a ground floor apartment with a small space at the back of it. Jake’s brows furrow slightly as he slides out of the driver’s side of his car, “Jesus Christ — is that your dog?”

Barely listening, you fish your keys from the front pocket of your denim skirt and head for the front door. Jett’s car isn’t here and you don’t know how long you’ll have. Jake and Javy share concerned glances as you rush towards the loud, deep barking coming from the apartment. Jake winces as the door springs open, preparing himself to witness a viscous attack.

Instead, a chunky tan and white pit bull launches himself into you, wiggling and wagging his tail.

“Oh, baby — Mommy missed you so much!” You coo over the fifty pound dog as he knocks you onto your butt and immediately throws himself into your lap, licking your face. Jake stares in disbelief. That cannot be the same creature that had been barking so incessantly a second ago. Not the excited blur of dog that’s all over you being called baby.

Javy laughs and heads forwards to join in. You breathe in softly and hold your hand up. He stops in his tracks.

“Hold on, he — um, he’s kind of shy about meeting new people,” You explain gently as you push yourself up onto your knees and wrap your arms around the dog to keep him against you. “If you both just come and sit, like right here, and let him sniff you, it should be okay.”

Javy obliges immediately, sitting cross-crossed a couple feet away from you, in the parking lot of the condominiums. Jake approaches slowly, uncertain as he sits beside his best friend. You smile and kiss the dog’s shoulder, slowly loosening your hold on him and letting him wander forwards.

He stalks towards the two of them, slow and cautious. Jake holds his breath. He’s never been great with dogs. Javy lifts his hand, calm and still as the dog sniffs him first.

“This is Tank.” You announce, smiling softly. Javy seems to have passed the friendship test, Tank moves on to Jake. He takes longer to decide when it comes to the tense blonde. After a few seconds of sniffing, Tank’s tail begins to wag. He presses himself into Jake’s lap, snuggling into his chest as he sticks his big head out towards Coyote.

A couple of minutes under the San-Diego sun, the four of you getting to know each other.

Jake helps you grab what you can, only the stuff that matters, while Coyote stands watch. Tank appoints himself the unofficial foreman, making sure that everyone is doing their jobs, following you from point A to B as you load Jake’s truck with as much as you can carry.

“Thanks, for helping me out with this stuff,” You say softly as Jake closes up the back of the truck bed. He turns and offers you a small, cool smile. Javy beams at his side. “I really appreciate everything you guys have done for me.”

Javy steps forwards and wraps his thick arms around you, forgetting his strength for a moment as he squeezes you tight. “We look out for each other at Bradshaw’s. Happy to help. Right, Jake?”

Jake can’t help but laugh at the concerned, half-crushed and worried look on your face. He nods and pats your shoulder as he heads for the driver’s seat. “Yes, we do. Now let’s get this guy home before he pisses on my seats.”

…

Whatever happens, happens

---

Behind Closed Doors:

Bojan Cvjetićanin x fem!reader

Chapter Three:

Masterlist

No murderer was knocking on innocent women's doors, unfortunately. Only a guilty Bojan. So, at least you got one thing correct?

"I'm trying!" You grunted as Jere's boot slipped from your grip, hitting the ground with a thud.

And you certainly felt innocent - a target even - in all this as you had to help with this mess.

The mess in question is an unconscious Jere.

After the worrying yet annoying texts from him, you found a puffed-out Bojan and a passed-out Jere outside your hotel room. Bojan was equally as tipsy as you were but insisted that you helped carry - or more like drag - Jere to bed. You both had decided on taking him to Bojan's hotel room, which he shared with Kris and Nace, hoping that way if he woke up sick or just very hungover, Kris would be there for him, instead of leaving him alone in his own hotel room. (poor Kris) And also because Jere didn't have his key on him. You only hoped it was misplaced back at the bar so he could retrieve it tomorrow but for now, you were struggling to carry him, and regretting ever leaving him on his own with Joker Out. God knows what happened.

"Well, try more!" Bojan grunted as all of Jere's body weight shifted to his hands, his legs staggering to keep himself steady.

"No shit Sherlock, THAT'S WHAT I'M DOING!" Your voice raised out of frustration as you glared at him while bending down to pick up Jere's legs again, accidentally revealing your cleavage in the dress you still had on from earlier, and grabbing onto his ankles. "My eyes are up here." You spoke flatly as you felt Bojan's eyes on you.

"I mean, it's not like I haven't seen it before," Bojan admitted nonchalantly as he smirked, provoking another glare out of you. You had been doing that a lot today.

You kept a firm grip on Jere's legs as you carefully carried him again and asked, "So, you remembered what happened then?"

"Hmm, I think you need to clarify." Sarcasm oozed off his tongue as he smirked again, making you groan, either because you were using all your strength to carry Jere or because you were fed up with Bojan. Probably both.

All Bojan could do was laugh at your reaction, "I remember us having some fun. Much more fun than well...what this is," He gestured to the passed-out Jere who was flopping about as you both hauled him.

Your eyebrows knitted together, "You say 'having some fun' as if implying we did...something..." You knew the pictures were well, suggestive, to say the least, but you knew for sure you never had sex with him...or either of them!

Bojan laughed, his eyes crinkling as a grin formed on his face as well as his dimples which were faint but still showed themselves to you, only making you want to stare at him for longer than you should. "No, we didn't. Only a little kiss...unless we did and we can't remember," He joked yet this didn't really amuse you. "I know for sure this guy is not gonna remember anything in the morning." He glanced down at Jere and chuckled to himself again, reminiscing on the partying they just enjoyed. A little too much, it seems.

"Good. I mean, I would want to remember that..." You awkwardly cleared your throat. Oh God, you were really talking about this. Changing the subject you asked, "What did you do to him anyway?!"

"Don't blame me! You are Finnish. Aren't you known for this?"

"I guess," you sighed, faintly laughing at your blacked-out best friend and his predicament.

Bojan didn't say anything other than muttering expletives under his breath as you worked up a sweat lugging Jere to the lifts. As soon as you reached them, both of you dropped him to the floor as you stood in front of the lifts. "Oops," While you caught your breath, you chuckled and eyed Jere on the floor but Bojan stayed silent. For a second you thought he was catching his breath like you were, but there was no sound of that. So, you wondered if what you had said about wanting to remember if you did it caught him off guard and made him uncomfortable and/or because the whole sauna situation had made him uneasy - even though he seemed to be making jokes about it just a moment ago and the day before. 

However, the moment you looked up from the still passed-out Jere and onto a shocked Bojan, you observed him staring unexpectedly at the lifts. Your confused self continued to watch him for a second before your eyes finally followed his gaze, immediately scanning an OUT OF ORDER sign that was stuck on the doors of the lift, almost mocking you. Not to mention additional caution tape that was stuck around for safety, as if you needed to be rubbed in the face more at the fact you'd have to carry Jere upstairs.

Your expression was just as equally shocked as Bojan's, but at this point it increasingly became irritated. "Of course." Your voice exuded sarcasm before scoffing, shaking your head as you turned back to face Bojan, expecting him to have disappeared, having given up on this whole journey.

But that was far from what would come out of his stupid mouth next.

"Well, we have a mission to complete. You know what they say, seize the day!" Trying not to act absolutely annoyed at the broken lift he cheered his signature line, almost making you automatically roll your eyes. Yet deep inside you wanted to laugh.

Well, this was one way to completely sober up.

____________________

Having almost tripped and fallen down the stairs while hauling Jere you were thankful when you saw Bojan's hotel room in sight. You thought carrying him was hard, until you tried carrying him while walking up stairs...

"Finally!" Exhausted, you flopped on the floor outside the hotel room next to where you rested Jere on the floor. Your head pounded. You and Bojan had successfully made it to the hotel room. Now you just hoped Bojan had the key.

"The key..." his voice sounded uncertain.

You hoped Bojan had the key-

"Uhh-" Looking up at him from the floor, you hoped to see the key in his hand but you couldn't.

"I don't have the key."

A long and tense pause lingered in the stuffy air. You stared at him with an almost blank stare, needing a moment to figure out how you were going to react.

"You what?" You laughed in disbelief.

"I, uh, may have lost the key..."

You were going to react angrily. "YOU WHAT?!" After all that hard work carrying Jere across the hallway along the hotel carpet - which you regret laying on now as the scratchy carpet digger into your skin - and up those steep stairs to the next floor, since the lifts conveniently happened to not be working so you could take Jere to bed, he hadn't thought to care more about keeping the room key safe... "What do we do now?!" Standing up before him, you half asked yourself and the guilty culprit in front of you.

Bojan shifted uncomfortably, "Umm...it must have fallen out of my pocket as we were carrying him!"

"Ugh. Well, you have Jere's key right? We can just go back and put him in his room, it's fine. Not what the plan was but-"

"Nu-uh! Do you know the leading cause of death from being hungover is puking while lying down!"

"Wh-"

"HE'LL CHOKE AND I'LL GET THE BLAME."

"Damn, okay, but you got us into this mess! One hundred percent I'll blame you. So what do you suggest?!" Your hungover headache is creeping its way back, harder this time, as this situation escalates. Although part of you thinks it's not just the hangover causing it.

He scratched his head and avoided your glaring eye contact. "We trace our steps and go back-"

"ARE YOU SERIOUS--"

A noise from beside you pulled your attention from Bojan. You looked over and saw it was Nace who had slammed the door open. "Shut up already! You woke me up and I'm very hungover. And what are all these texts about-" his eyes landed on the wiped-out Jere on the floor. "Oh."

"Thank god you're awake, I lost our room key-"

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Nace grumpily interrupted.

"Please just take him," You sighed and began handing Jere's legs for him to hold, Bojan following your lead. Nace sighed and accepted his fate. It's not like he had a choice anyway, and he just really wanted to go back to sleep, which you could relate to.

After putting Jere to bed, with a glass of water next to him for when he wakes and with the help of Bojan making sure to position him lying on his side to avoid any vomit-choking death, the two of you were ushered out by Nace, who now portrayed a snide smirk plastered across his face. "You're lucky Jan isn't here. He'd have a field day with this," he stifled a laugh, not wanting to make any more noise and wake Kris up, who was still sleeping blissfully unaware of the chaos that just occurred. Nace shut the door in both of your faces, not even bothering to ask where Bojan would sleep, which would be your room. He'd probably find that out from the Queen of Gossip, Jan, in the morning.

Together, you released a sigh of relief and Bojan high-fived you which you grudgingly reciprocated, nonetheless still annoyed at the whole situation.

When you made it back to your own hotel room with Bojan, you sank down on the bed with another sigh. Noticing your tiredness, Bojan handed you some water and stroked your stray hair away from your face, which you weren't expecting him to do though you didn't push his hand away. "Thanks for helping," he spoke lowly, but lightly.

Once his fingertips finished pulling the last strand, tucking it behind your ear gently, your skin burned, yearning for more. But you knew it was wrong, right? That sauna situation embarrassed you and those pictures, even worse. And you still hadn't talked to Bojan about it. Not properly anyway.

You were supposed to be colleagues. But it seems a lot can happen behind closed doors.

Realising you hadn't replied to him you uttered, "It's fine,"

God, of all the things you could say, that was all that came out?

You should shout at him for letting Jere get that drunk - even though everyone knows no one can stop him. You should tell him how embarrassed you are about whatever happened in the sauna. The kiss...The photos...

"I know what you're thinking about," Bojan whispered, almost sing-song-like. As if this was a game. Whatever this was.

"Go on then,"

His eyes squinted as if he was trying to mind-read, and you wondered if he did somehow get more drunk being near a blacked-out Jere for too long because he was staring at you longer than needed, with that piercing glare.

Tauntingly, his eyes quickly lowered to your cleavage again and back up to your eyes. Oh, how you wish you could roll your eyes right now but you were stuck. Frozen. Yet still burning from his touch.  You kicked yourself over how fast you seemed to swoon over the singer from Slovenia. That was all he should be to you.

"The kiss." he finally declared.

You took a deep breath, drinking him in, as he seemed closer than he was before. The strands of his fluffy hair fell perfectly on his forehead. Your fingers instantly brushed them away, just as he did yours. entangling with the rest of his dark blond hair. His eyes never left you. They couldn't.

"Is that why you've been ignoring me?"

"I haven't-"

He quirked an eyebrow at you, not believing you for one second.

You sighed again, softly this time. "Okay, maybe I have. So you do also remember taking those photos? Don't you think I'm some kind of slut?"

"What? No way. We were joking around."

"Oh, good. I'm glad they didn't get accidentally posted online or something. That wouldn't be good. Especially for our managers."

He chuckled, "No, it wouldn't,"

"Was this some sort of plan you two came up with?"

He hummed in question, eyebrows furrowing.

"The whole passed-out-Jere-I-need-somewhere-to-sleep fiasco."

"You said we should take him to mine,"

"Yeah because you screamed about how if he dies you'll get blamed, which is still what's gonna happen if he does. For now, Kris and Nace can deal with...that." Your mind wanders to the texts and for a second you imagine it all unravelling. God knows you've seen it happen before, being friends with Jere for so long.

"Did you want it to be? Did you want it so I planned to get in your bed," Bojan's voice was hot, you could suddenly feel it. He was moving closer and closer to you by the minute. And you didn't move away or tell him to do so. You didn't want to. "Because it seems like it. Not to mention" - he leans down, fingertips caressing your leg down to your heels - "your naughty trick."

Naughty, he says.

You blushed intensely, feeling goosebumps rise across your skin at his touch, and at remembering your caressing his leg with your heel. You didn't know what possessed you then in that moment but, boy, you did not regret it. Especially if it meant Bojan would be this close to you right now, making you feel light-headed in an excited way.

His fingertips glide back up, tingling. He leans in and you do too. Tingling now on your lips, just as the photo of him kissing your cheek made you feel. Just as he made you feel in the sauna. Just as he made you feel whenever he looked at you. Kissing never felt this good. A wave of almost relief washed over you. If he thought you were 'weird' or 'a slut' then he wouldn't be kissing you now, would he?

Seeing you were more comfortable, he spoke softly, yet with a hint of something else. Desire.

"Let me make it up to you.