(Disclaimer: All images were generated with the help of AI tools)
The bell above the door of The Daily Grind chimed with a cheerful, tinny ring, announcing yet another soul satisfying their caffeine addiction. Eli barely registered it. He was a statue in a moving world, a fixed point in the chaotic swirl of mid-morning coffee drinkers. On this particular Monday morning, his focus was narrowed to a tiny slice of reality: the two registers, and the two people manning them.
On the left was Kevin. Kevin was always all crisp outfits and efficient movements, with a tidy man bun containing his dark hair and a perpetually unimpressed expression. He took orders with a clipped, monotone efficiency that was somehow reassuring amid the hustle and bustle of the morning rush.
On the right was Sage.
Eli had never been formally introduced. In fact he’d never even made eye contact with her, and that was by design. He only knew her name because he’d noticed her name on the gleaming brass nametag pinned to her crisp, white shirt. Sage. The name felt soft and bright, just like her. She had a cascade of honey-blonde hair tied back in a loose, shimmering ponytail, and a smile that seemed to genuinely light up her face, not to mention the room. She laughed easily, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and she had a habit of tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear when she was concentrating. Every time she did it, a small, anxious part of Eli’s heart did a little flip.
He shuffled forward in line. He was acutely aware of the unwritten social contract of the queue: you don’t stare, you don’t hold up the line, you mind your own business. While he wasn’t normally a huge fan of contracts, this one suited him just fine. He fixed his eyes on the chalkboard menu above the registers, reading the names of the drinks in his head. Oat milk latte. Cold brew with vanilla. Drip coffee. Huh, when did they add ube to the menu? That was new.. Anything to keep himself distracted, to stop him from letting his gaze drift back to her. He didn’t want to stare. He couldn’t.
He was twenty-five years old, a junior graphic designer with a cat at home named Pixels and a penchant for overthinking. He knew the mechanics of attraction better than most. He knew the rush of a crush, the nervous energy, the flutter in the stomach. In fact, he was hyper-aware of it. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing you were about to be pushed.
The line moved with agonizing slowness. A man in a suit argued with Kevin about the price of a bagel. A woman with a stroller tried to wrangle a toddler and slowly got out a complex order for a quad-shot espresso, Sage patiently entering the order into the system with a kind smile. Through it all, Eli couldn’t help but keep Sage at the edge of his awareness. He noticed the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her lips moved as she repeated the orders back, the way her fingers danced over the touchscreen.
He found himself praying to a god he didn't believe in. Please, let Kevin be faster. Please, let her go on break. Please, don’t make me talk to her.
The irony was, he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to walk up to the counter, lean on it casually, and say something witty that would make her laugh that bright, genuine laugh. Some earnest pick-up line that would whisk her away, the first step on the path to their happily ever after. But he knew what would happen if he did. The thought was unbearable.
Finally, only one person stood between him and the counter. The elderly woman in front of him was meticulously counting out bills and change for Kevin. Eli held his breath. He watched as Sage finished with her more efficient customer, handed over a pastry, and beamed a final, dazzling smile. She turned back to her register, wiped her hands on a cloth, and then, with a sweet, practiced motion, she waved.
“Next customer,” she called, her voice a pleasant melody over the indie rock humming from the speakers.
Her eyes, a warm shade of hazel, scanned the line and landed directly on his.
Time stopped.
It wasn’t a metaphor. The chatter of the coffee shop, the hiss of the espresso machine, the clatter of ceramic mugs, it all ceased, replaced by a profound, ringing silence. The people around him were all frozen mid-gesture. The toddler in a high chair playing with an unused coffee sleeve was as still as a statue. The man stirring his latte at the creamer station was a monument to his own mundane action. Even the dust motes dancing in the sunbeam from the window hung suspended in the air, like tiny, glittering stars.
Every customer was a painting, a photograph, a moment preserved in amber.
Except for Eli.
And except for what was happening next to the pastry display.
A plume of crimson smoke, thick and smelling faintly of sulfur and expensive perfume, billowed from the floor. It swirled and coalesced, churning into a dense, vibrant cloud before it parted like a theater curtain.
Standing there, one taloned hand resting on the glass of the display case, was a woman. Her skin was the color of a fine red wine, her hair a cascade of raven-black silk. She was dressed in a razor-sharp, tailored pantsuit of charcoal grey that did nothing to hide the voluptuous curves beneath. Her lips were painted a matching shade of charcoal, and her eyes, pools of liquid obsidian, gleamed with ancient, knowing amusement. Her pointed ears, tipped with small gold rings, twitched as she surveyed the scene.
She looked at the frozen barista, her gaze lingering for a moment before she turned her full attention to Eli. A slow, predatory smirk spread across her face.
“Elias,” she purred, her voice a low thrum of velvet-wrapped trouble. “It’s been a while. Excellent choice.” She gestured with a sharp-nailed, scarlet finger towards Sage. “She has a certain… freshness. A classic beauty. As usual, I approve of your taste.”
Eli’s stomach tightened into a cold, hard knot. He felt a wave of nausea that was equal parts dread and a sick, long-dormant thrill. “Nyx,” he said, his voice hoarse. “She’s not… she’s different. Please. Just leave her alone.”
Nyx tilted her head, a gesture of mock curiosity. “Different? How so? Because she hasn’t been molded to your specifications yet? Because she’s still… whole?”
“She seems kind,” Eli pleaded, the words tumbling out. “And smart. Maybe… maybe I could just talk to her. For real this time. Win her over the old-fashioned way. You know, dinner, movies… conversations. Real dates. Maybe this time I don’t need… you.”
The demoness let out a soft, tutting sound, like a disappointed parent. She took a step closer, the click of her heels on the tile unnaturally loud in the frozen silence. “Oh, my dear boy,” she cooed, feigning a mask of sympathy so thin it was translucent. “Still clinging to these quaint little notions? That’s adorable. Truly.” She reached out and placed a hand on his cheek. Her skin was surprisingly cool to the touch. “But we have a contract. A binding, eternal, soul-sealing agreement. Remember? You signed it in blood—not literally, of course. Ratified by your own words, bound by your own desperate desires.”
“I know it’s been a while, so allow me to refresh your memory,” her hand left his cheek as she gestured playfully around the frozen room, like she was putting on a one demon show. “You were fifteen. You’d just been rejected by… what was her name? Jessica? Jennifer?”
Eli grimaced regretfully, “Jamie.”
“Thaaat’s right,” Nyx jested. “The one with the braces. You were a puddle of teenage angst and misery, blubbering into your pillow about how you’d give anything for a girl to just like you back. To find you as irresistible as you found them.”
Eli flinched. The memory was seared into his mind. The humiliation. The gut-wrenching pain of always feeling invisible.
“As you know, I was sent as a response to that wish,” Nyx continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, while still enunciating each syllable. “I am the hellacious ful-fill-ment of your desire. So, let’s not pretend this is about her feelings.” She jerked her head towards Sage at the register. “This is about yours. It always has been.”
She drifted lazily towards the frozen barista, hovering her hands just inches from her shoulders. “You have to admit, at first, it was a dream, wasn’t it? Every crush, every girl you lusted after in high school and college, they just fell into your arms. Or your lap. Or your bed. Perfect, adoring, ready to fulfill your every whim. Remember that cheerleader, Cali? Oh, and Raquel, that smoke show of an RA in your dorm?” A wistful, almost sad look crossed Eli’s face. It had been a dream, back then. A thrilling, intoxicating power.
“Ooh, and how could you forget Jade from your college lit class?” Nyx’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “The quiet one who loved poetry? You reshaped her to be more adventurous. And suddenly, she was. So very… free with her affections. And her body.”
Eli remembered. The transformation had been drastic. Jade had lost her love for sonnets and gained a love for, well, him. And anything he suggested. Her personality, once nuanced and thoughtful, had dissolved into a bubbly, eager-to-please haze.
“And then there was Sarah,” Nyx went on, savoring each name like a fine wine. “Your first real post-college girlfriend. You thought you’d made her into a perfect partner. But deep down, you were still that lonely boy. You wished for her to be more… affectionate. Committed. Attached. And poof! Suddenly she couldn’t stand to be apart from you for a single second. She quit her job just to be available for your lunch breaks.”
He had loved it at first. The suffocating devotion. The ego boost. But then he’d realized he was dating a mirror that only reflected his own neediness. The conversations were vapid. One-sided. There was no friction, no growth, no spark of genuine discovery. He had been the sun, and she was a planet with no light of her own, forever locked in his orbit. The relationships never lasted. How could they? There was no ‘there’ there. He was essentially dating different aspects of his own subconscious, or more accurately, caricatures of what his fifteen-year-old self thought a girlfriend should be.
“I’ve grown up, Nyx,” he said, his voice thick with years of regret. “I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want… mindlessly devoted bimbos. I want a person. A real person with thoughts and opinions that aren’t dictated by my whims. I want to be challenged. I want someone who chooses me because they want to, not someone who’s magically compelled to. It’s… it’s not real. And it’s not right. They have no choice.”
Nyx’s amusement vanished, replaced by a cool, reptilian stillness. The air grew colder. “Choice?” she hissed, the word dripping with condescension, bordering on annoyance. “The choice was made when you put pen to paper. The contract is not a subscription service you can just cancel. It is a fundamental law of your reality now. Mine too. You got what you asked for, Elias. You wanted girls to like you back. Well, here we are. Every time, without fail. So why fight it? Why not just… enjoy the gift you were given?”
She placed her red, pointy-nailed hands firmly on Sage’s shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt. The barista remained impassive, frozen, a beautiful doll waiting for a command.
“So,” Nyx’s voice was light and playful again, the chill receding. “I’ve had enough of this trip down memory lane, haven’t you? What’ll it be today? What flavor of devotion will soothe that conflicted soul of yours? A stylish intellectual who suddenly finds your ramblings on aesthetic theories sooo fascinating? A sporty girl who does yoga in skimpy outfits in your living room while you play video games? Or maybe just a classic: a sweet girl-next-door who’s secretly a wildcat in the sack?”
Eli clenched his jaw, his fists balling at his sides. “No. I’m not playing this game. Not this time. Not with her.”
He tried to hold her gaze, to project a resolve he didn’t fully feel. But his eyes betrayed him, flickering for a nanosecond towards Sage’s chest.
Nyx saw it. Of course she did. She was a demon who specialized in desire. She missed nothing.
She sighed dramatically, a sound of profound disappointment. “You’re no fun when you get all moral. Fine. I’ll do it myself, if I must.”
She released Sage’s shoulders and looked around the coffee shop, her eyes scanning the frozen patrons. A wicked gleam entered Nyx’s eyes. “You’ve always been a simple man at heart, haven’t you? A true connoisseur of the rack. The classics never fail. You can thank me later…”
Before Eli could protest again, she raised her hand and snapped her fingers.
The sound was like a firecracker in the silence. A fresh cloud of red smoke erupted, completely engulfing Sage. It smelled of perfume and fresh coffee grounds and an overpowering sugary sweetness. The smoke swirled violently for a moment, and through the scarlet haze, Eli saw glimpses of her transformation. As always it was swift, efficient, and utterly mesmerizing.
The smoke cleared.
Sage was still there. Still frozen. But she was… changed.
Her honey-blonde hair was now a platinum white-blonde, teased into a voluminous, glossy wave. Her eyes, once hazel and intelligent, were now a bright, vacant blue, thick with mascara that made them look huge and doll-like. Her lips were fuller, slicked with a coat of bubblegum-pink gloss. Her work shirt, once neatly buttoned, was now straining at the seams, the top two buttons popped open to reveal a generous valley of creamy cleavage. Her chest was now impossibly large, the fabric of her shirt stretched taut across breasts that seemed to defy gravity.
“There. Now she’s got something to add to your coffee,” Nyx whispered, her voice laced with cruel laughter as she playfully squeezed one of Sage’s new tits. She winked at Eli, a final, mocking gesture. “Enjoy.”
With another swirl of red smoke, she was gone.
And the world snapped back into motion.
The chatter, the hiss, the clatter—it all rushed back in a dizzying wave. The toddler wailed, the man grumbled about his coffee, the espresso machine roared to life. But Eli heard none of it. His focus was entirely on the woman in front of him.
Sage blinked, a slow, languid flutter of her heavy lashes. Her gaze, which had been neutral, suddenly focused on him, and the change was instantaneous. A captivating smile spread across her glossy lips. It was a smile of pure lust and adoration.
“Well, hello there,” she purred, her voice now a breathy, sultry alto that sent a shiver down his spine. It was the same voice he recognized, but all the professionalism had been boiled away, leaving only the sweet, thick syrup of desire. “What can I get for you today, handsome?”
Eli felt a heavy stone of guilt settle in his gut. It was already done. He could see the intelligence in her eyes had been snuffed out, replaced by a single, blazing thought: Him.
“Uh,” he stammered, his own voice sounding foreign and weak. “Tall… tall latte. Whole milk. Please.”
“Whole milk,” she repeated, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Mmm, creamy. I like it.” She punched the order into the register, her movements now exaggerated and flirtatious. She leaned forward over the counter as she did, giving him an unmistakable view of her newfound assets. The scent of her perfume, suddenly stronger, was cloyingly sweet. “Anything else for you, sweetie? A muffin? A cookie? You look like you need some… sugar.”
The innuendo was as subtle as a sledgehammer. The couple behind him shifted impatiently, but Sage didn’t seem to notice or care. Her entire world had become the few feet of space between them.
“No, that’s all. Just the coffee. Thanks,” Eli managed, his face burning with a mixture of shame and the undeniable, primal male response that he had hated himself for his entire adult life.
“Alrighty,” she chirped, tapping the screen. “That’ll be four-fifty.”
He fumbled for his wallet, his hands shaking slightly. He paid, avoiding her gaze. She took his card, her fingers brushing his deliberately, sending a jolt through him that was pure electric guilt.
“I’ll have that ready for you at the end of the counter, handsome,” she said, her voice dripping with intent. “Don’t go anywhere.”
She turned and sauntered towards the espresso machine, her hips swinging in a way that was entirely new. Every male eye in the coffee shop was on her. Even professional, clinical Kevin. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to relish it. She worked the machine with a newfound, languid confidence, her movements less efficient, more performative.
Eli stood at the end of the bar, feeling sick. He watched her, this funhouse mirror version of the charming woman he had been admiring just moments before. This was his fault. He had done this. Again.
She frothed the milk, the sound of the steam wand hissing like a serpent. She poured the latte with exaggerated care, drawing a delicate heart in the foam. She picked up a sharpie from the counter. For a moment, she looked at the cup, then her eyes flickered back to him, a conspiratorial glint in them. She scribbled something on the side, then touched up her lipstick and pressed her pink lips firmly against the white paper cup, leaving a perfect, luscious imprint.
Her name was still Sage. The woman who had been behind the counter ten minutes ago was also Sage. But this… vision was simultaneously her and someone else entirely. Something he had created.
“Order for Eliiii!” she called out, her voice ringing through the shop as she drew out the last syllable like a flirty melody. It wasn’t the typical casually disinterested call of a barista. It was more like a siren’s call, personal and charged.
He walked the few steps to the counter, his legs feeling like lead. He took the cup from her outstretched hand. Her fingers lingered, stroking his.
“Here you go,” she breathed. “I made it extra hot for you.”
He looked down at the cup. In neat, loopy handwriting next to the logo, she had written:
Sage 555-0142 Call me tonight ;) xxx
And beneath it, the perfect, pink kiss.
He stared at the cup, then back up at her. She was practically vibrating with anticipation, her bright blue eyes wide and hopeful, her pillowy lips parted in a breathless smile. Her magnificent chest rose and fell with each excited breath.
A part of him, the fifteen-year-old boy who still lived in the deepest, most shameful corners of his soul, cheered in triumph. He had won. He had the girl. She was gorgeous, she was eager, and she wanted him more than anything in the whole world. He could call her tonight. He could go over to her apartment. He knew, with a certainty that made his stomach churn, that the night would be incredible. She would be everything he had ever fantasized about.
But the man he was now, the twenty-five-year-old man who understood consequence and craved authenticity, felt only a profound, soul-crushing emptiness. This wasn’t a victory. It was a theft. He hadn’t earned her number. He hadn’t charmed her. The contract had simply plucked the desire from his subconscious, an ever present mix of lust and loneliness, and stamped it onto another human being, erasing the person she was to make room for the person he supposedly desired.
He looked at her, at this beautiful, buxom babe, and felt the weight of his eternal damnation settle over him. He was doomed to this cycle, this curse-in-disguise. Always craving connection, attachment, genuine affection, but instead receiving this hollow, empty fulfillment of his teenage lust. An endless cycle of hollow conquests and self-loathing. That would be his burden. A hell of his own making.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, the words feeling blasphemous.
He turned away from her hopeful, expectant smile and walked out of the coffee shop, the bell chiming his exit.
The warm cup in his hand felt impossibly heavy. He was definitely calling her later. He knew he would. He always did. And as he stepped out into the indifferent morning light, he whispered to himself the one truth he could no longer deny.
Since I’m trying to work on multiple fics at once (pray for me), I figure I’ll pin this here so people can easily keep up with updates, and easily find the individual posts for each fic.
WIPs
The Devil You Know [The Devil Wears Prada]
Updated: 16 May 2026
Theme: Miranda/Andy slow burn
Ao3 link
I Got You to Hold My Hand [Heated Rivalry]
Updated: 17 May 2026
Theme: Tuna Meltdown time loop
Ao3 link
Heaven Struck [Heated Rivalry]
Updated: 06 June 2026 (has a backlog, updates Saturdays)
Theme: Heated Rivalry, but Shane realizes he’s gay earlier, and Ilya actually does something about the Russia situation.
microdosing on posting snippets from my raven!neil fic here because nanowrimo is killing me dead 🙃
Fic summary:
Nathaniel has grown up knowing he has two options upon turning 18: stay at Evermore and play for the Ravens through college, or allow the Hatfords to pay off his debts and claim him as one of their own. Nathaniel isn’t interested in leaving Exy (or Jean) for the faceless evil that sent his mom running to the Butcher of Baltimore.
But then Kevin’s stunt with the Foxes upends Nathaniel's world, and a third option opens up.
***
cw: canon-typical violence, references to and brief discussions of abuse/torture (but nothing on-screen)
outtake is from chapter 1, enjoy!
word count: 827
***
November
“Get him out of here,” Nathaniel snarls.
“Nice to see you too, Wesninski.”
Kevin is predictable to a fault and easy to corner after evening drills. The extra, invitation-only practice comprises a smaller group of upperclassmen, and Kevin insists on being the last to leave the court. Nathaniel planted himself on a storage cabinet just out of sight for the rare privilege of seeing Kevin flinch when he rounded the corner.
Fresh from the showers, he has a towel draped around his shoulders. His wet hair is already combed perfectly into place, tattoo gleaming against his flushed cheeks. He does not look happy to see Nathaniel.
He can get over himself – Nathaniel has worked himself into a burning rage while waiting, and he’s ready to light something on fire.
“Do we have to do this right now?” Kevin asks tiredly, dropping his soggy towel on Nathaniel’s sneakers and turning to rummage in his locker.
Nathaniel kicks the towel at Kevin’s back and slams a fist into the nearest locker – a poor substitute for Kevin’s face. “Riko is out of control,” he says fiercely. “Jean is sobbing on the floor of our bathroom because he tried to turn the shower on. Is there a more convenient time that you’d like to pencil this conversation in?”
Kevin turns and catches the towel, leveling Nathaniel with a hard, weary look. “I don’t know what you expect me to do about that. Tell him to take a sponge bath. We’re all just trying to survive the year.” He reaches neatly around Nathaniel to access the laundry chute, withdrawing quickly before Nathaniel can do something feral like bite off a finger.
The only thing that stops Nathaniel from trying is the shifty look in Kevin’s eyes and the way his shoulder jumps up in a half-aborted shrug. He’s hiding something.
“Bullshit. Tell me what’s going on, Kev. Something happened between you and Riko in Atlanta. He’s been escalating ever since, and I can’t– I can’t protect us if I don’t know what it is. Did you say something to him?" Kevin is so tense he looks like he's going to explode, which means if Nathaniel pushes just a bit harder... "Piss in his cereal? Jostle the stick up his–”
“I put my ego above my loyalties,” Kevin says. A shudder runs through him at the admission. “I am his partner and his– his second, and I have betrayed that trust.”
Nathaniel, who was not expecting to get an answer that easily, if at all, stares blankly. What the hell is he talking about?
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I– the drills we’ve been practicing with the team–,” Kevin mutters, as if even he is still trying and failing to piece together the full picture of Riko’s fury, “I guess I picked them up faster, or… I’ve been speaking too much in team meetings, stepping out of line…” he stumbles around the truth at the center of his words like it might burn him.
“Hang on– are you telling me this is about, what, your stats? He’s mad that you’re outperforming him in practice?”
Nathaniel tries to reconcile the uncertain boy in front of him with the man who scored from center court and then chewed out the son of a hedge fund manager until he cried for not being three feet to the left to receive a pass. “Jesus, just take a few nights off, or– or take this shit to Tetsuji, I’m sure he’d love to hear how his nephew is dragging the team down with him for his pride. Why are you just sitting on this?”
Kevin is done explaining though. When he speaks, his voice is steel, and the glint in his eyes puts a pit in Nathaniel’s stomach.
“It is after curfew and Jean is waiting. Go back to your room, Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel’s jaw tightens. “You aren’t just sitting on this, are you? You have a plan.”
Of course he would decide to stand his ground now. Where was this conviction when Riko started spiking their food? When he broke Jean’s fingers, or carved into Nathaniel’s skin for the first time? He’s spent nearly a decade wishing Kevin would grow a spine – now he’s ready to snap it in half.
“I’m through bleeding for you, watching Jean bleed for you,” he threatens, pushing off the counter and taking a step toward Kevin, voice rising. “You promised me more than this. You owe me.”
Kevin makes an irritated shushing noise. “Be quiet. This is not–” he glances impatiently at the clock above the door, “Do not ask this of me right now.”
“Fuck you, I’m asking,” Nathaniel snaps, not bothering to lower his voice. They have bigger problems than getting caught breaking curfew.
“Shut up,” Kevin hisses, jerking a hand towards Nathaniel’s mouth. He freezes awkwardly just before making contact, dropping his gaze briefly to the lingering bruises on Nathaniel’s throat, the pink scars curving up from his shoulder blades to poke out his shirt collar. “Do you have a death wish?” he asks stiffly.
“Yes,” Nathaniel says coldly, “I wish you were dead.” He stares until Kevin drops his hand.
***
(oh, the angst. to be clear I love Kevin dearly. if i missed any cws above, please let me know!)
Author’s Note: Finally! Here is chapter 3 of TDYK. I had so much fun writing this, and so far it’s my favorite chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do!
All Spanish translations are located at the bottom of the post
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: Brief mentions of torture/rough interrogation, cursing, angst, fluff?
Previous part | Next Part | Masterlist
////
It had been a couple days since your run in with Javier at the bar, your last words to him nagging at the front of your mind ever since. You had that stupid piece of paper with his phone number on it tucked away in your jacket pocket since you got home that night, having every intention to call him when you had a spare moment. Unfortunately, the past few days had been spent interrogating the Sicario smuggler Carrillo’s men had managed to capture, a task you were less than enthused about due to the methods required to get any kind of answer out of him. Then, when you did have a free moment alone, you would pull out the slightly crumpled piece of paper and pick the phone up from the receiver. But every time as you sat there, listening to the dial tone with your fingers hovering over the buttons, you would let out a sigh and set the phone back down in the cradle. You felt like a nervous teenager in high school, and you couldn’t even figure out why this felt like such a momentous task. It was just a phone call, right? Why were you making such a big deal out of it?
“Hello!” A familiar voice called, “Earth to (y/n),” Steve said teasingly, waving his hand in front of your face, finally pulling you from your thoughts.
You shake your head slightly and look over to your partner sitting in the driver’s seat of his jeep, an amused look on his face, “Did you hear anything I just said?” he asked, an entertained look on his face.
You felt yourself flush slightly as you stumbled to come up with an answer, “uh-“ you wracked your brain to try and remember what Steve was saying, “something about the cartel?”
Steve chuckles and shakes his head, “you’re not wrong but not right either. I said that Carrillo needs our help with Santiago, thinks that maybe we can help get some more information out of him,” he repeats, opening his door and exiting the vehicle. You all must have arrived at your destination while you were stuck in your head.
You cringe slightly at the thought of being in the room while Carrillo interrogates Santiago. Even though you had been in Colombia for quite some time, you still had standards - personal ideals that you upheld. And the things that Carrillo and some of the other locals did, while necessary, made your stomach churn. Nevertheless, you follow Steve’s lead and exit the car and walk with him into the building. The minute you enter, one of Carrillo’s men leads you and Steve into a side room that’s been converted into a makeshift office for the DEA and the Search Bloc’s combined task force to take down the Los Carnales cartel. Just as you approached the whiteboard, eyes scanning the new pictures of possible cartel members and quick scrawls of writing, Carrillo strode into the room, wiping at his knuckles with a bloody towel.
“You’re late,” he said, voice clipped.
You turned to face him, crossing your arms, “We came as fast as we could Colonel. We were following another lead,” you informed coolly.
The man chuckled, shaking his head and tossing the towel onto a nearby table, flexing his fingers slightly, “You Americans…” he sighs, “you’re so busy chasing every single bone tossed your way you don’t bother focusing on the one right in front of you,” he bites, frustration lacing his words as he approaches you and Steve.
Steve doesn’t take too kindly to the accusation, “Listen man, we have orders - legal orders. So, we can’t just sit on our asses and wait for this bastard to finally decide to talk to-“
Steve was cut off by Carrillo shoving an accusing finger into his chest, “I don’t need a gringo questioning my methods. I do what I have to do in order to make this city a safer place for my people – my family. If you don’t like the way I do things, then I will happily withdrawal my men and you can chase your tails on your own” He threatens.
You saw Steve take in a breath, surely getting ready to rip the Colonel a new one but you stepped between the two men pushing them apart slightly, “No need for that Colonel, I’m sure what Steve meant to say-“ you give your partner a pointed look, “is that we have orders from higher up, we have to follow them or else we’ll get further behind. Now, you said you needed our help?” you asked, hoping to deescalate the situation. The last thing you needed was the entire Search Bloc team fighting against you instead of with you.
Carrillo glances from you back to Steve before letting out a defeated huff and back away a few steps, “Well, I thought I needed your help, but right after I called you both here, I got him talking. He gave me all the information that he claimed to have, and with him being a lower level player to the cartel, I believe him,” he explained, a slight hopefulness to his tone.
Your eyes widened slightly, and you couldn’t keep the excitement from your voice, “Well what did he tell you? anything useful?”
“He claimed to not know much about the head of the operation,” he began, “But the information I did get from him should help us all in moving forward with the investigation.”
***
You and Steve practically ran back into the embassy, eager to get a jump start on the next leg of the investigation, the information Carrillo managed to extract from Santiago being some of the best and most helpful intel you had gotten since you began. It laid out the basic make-up of the cartel, and that the cartel itself was split into three main operations: production, smuggling, and security. Each operation had its own leader, someone in charge of making sure that specific section ran smoothly and efficiently. Santiago knew the names of almost half of those higher ups, having to work directly with them in order to complete his job as a drug mule. If you took these key players down, it brought you that much closer to taking down the man at the top - your unknown cartel leader - and the ring leader behind the Los Carnales, the cartel that has remained in the shadows.
Until now.
This cartel may have managed to hide a successful drug trafficking operation in Colombia up until now, but as you stood staring at the operations board you and Steve had pieced together, you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you could catch these people, hopeful that you could bring an end to the violence and most of all, you felt hopeful that you could bring Carlos and his family some justice. Your eyes drift from the board in front of you over to your desk, immediately drawn to the small green matchbox car sitting next to the phone, and you felt your resolve harden. You would do what ever it took to finish this, you had too.
“Hey,” Steve’s voice caught your attention and you moved away from the board and over to your conjoined desks taking a seat across from him.
He pushes away from the desk as you sit down and jabs his thumb towards the exit of the office, “I was going to take a late lunch and go grab some tamales, from that corner market down the road, you want to come with me?” he asks.
You can’t help but chuckle at his total mispronunciation of the word tamales and shake your head as he pipes up once more, “What’s so funny?”
“You,” you say, still giggling, “You really need to work on your Spanish agent Murphy because that was terrible,” you tease.
He just rolls his eyes, and stands from his seat, “you know what, I retract my invitation, I don’t need any negative Nancy’s ruining my celebratory lunch.”
You just let out a laugh as he pulls his jacket on, “Yeah well, I was going to stay here and get some work done anyway-“ you watch as Steve just nods and starts to walk away, “But I wouldn’t mind if you brought me two tamales when you come back!” you call after him.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you want your highness,” he tosses back as he exits the office.
You roll your eyes at his snarky response and lean back into your chair, letting out a soft sigh. Today had been good, it was a win in your book, and it gave you a small sense of victory. In your momentary bliss, your eyes fell to the phone sitting in the corner of your desk, and you felt a brief flicker of bravery shoot through you. You sat up, hand digging in the pocket of your blazer and pulling out the slightly crumpled piece of paper. You give a quick glance around the office, making sure no one else was around before unfolding the piece of paper and picking up the phone. You fingers hover over the digits on the receiver for a moment, a split second of hesitation keeping you from proceeding before you squashed it down, quickly punching in the numbers and replacing the haunting dial tone with a familiar ringing. You held your breath as you listened to the continuous sound, slowly deflating the longer it went on.
Maybe it was stupid to call him, you thought, he probably just left his number behind so he wouldn’t seem like an asshole.
You were just about to abandon all hope, your small bubble of courage dashed out as the phone continued to ring, when a small click sounded on the other end, followed by a familiar voice,
“Buenos,” it greets simply, waiting for you to respond.
Your brain seems to stutter to a stop, you aren’t exactly sure why , but you’re suddenly over come with a rush of nervousness and your mouth opens and closes in an effort to string a sentence together.
“¿Hola? ¿Hay alguien ahí?” he asks, confusion clear in his tone.
You finally managed to catch up with yourself and splutter out a response, “¿Javier? Este es (y/n), ¿es este el número correcto?” you ask, switching to Spanish out of habit since he was speaking it as well.
You hear a small chuckle on the other end and can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach because of it, “I see you took my suggestion on speaking more Spanish…I could get used to that,” he says suggestively, his low baritone seeping through the phones speaker.
You feel yourself blush slightly at his words, and he takes the silence as a cue to continue, “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to call. Thought I had scared you off,” he teases.
You bite your lip trying to hold back the smile threatening to creep onto your lips and shake your head, “No you didn’t scare me off,” you begin, “work has just been really busy is all,” you explain, leaving out the part about how many times you had tried and failed to call him.
He hums quietly, the low frequency causing the speaker to crackle slightly before he speaks up, “so work has been busy?” he follows up.
You nod even though he can’t see you and you relax back in your chair, swiveling side to side slowly, “Yeah, we just got a huge lead on our case, so I’ve had a lot on my plate. I’m…exhausted honestly,” you admit, your tough-agent exterior slowly fading as you talked to him.
It’s silent for a moment before Javier responds, “Are you free tonight?”
Your heart speeds up at this question. Why did he want to know? Did he want to meet at the bar again? Or did he want to arrange some other activities?
Your thoughts were racing so fast that you didn’t respond immediately, prompting Javier to clear his throat, “You still there?”
You startle slightly, “yeah, uh – yeah I’m still here,” you say quickly, “and yes I’m free tonight…why do you ask?” you question cautiously.
“Well,” he begins, “I wanted to know if you’d let me take you to dinner.” He says, his words shocking you.
Your grip on the phone becomes tighter as your palms become slightly clammy, “like-“ you pause, stumbling over your words, “like a date?” you ask, voice coming out in a higher pitch than intended.
Javier lets out a laugh on the other end of the phone and you feel an embarrassed flush creep up your neck, completely sure you had made an utter fool of yourself. But Javier spoke up after his laughter died down and you felt your heart flutter in your chest at his words.
“Yes, like a date,” he confirms, amusement clear in his voice.
A smile creeps onto your face and you lean forward, fingers playing with the chord of the phone, and you let out a small sigh, “That would be…nice,” you admit, “I would love to go to dinner with you Javier.”
“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at 6. Does that time work okay?”
“I get off at 5, so that works great. I’ll see you then Javi,” you say gently, afraid If you speak any louder it will somehow ruin the happy moment you’re having.
“I’ll see you at 6,” he confirms, then you hear a soft click, indicating the call was over.
You set the phone back in its cradle before taking the small piece of paper with his number on it and tucking it away in your jacket. A large smile adorning your face the entire time, even as you glanced at the clock.
Three more hours.
Your heart sped up slightly at the thought of your plans once more and you tried to look less excited, lest anyone walks back into the office. But you couldn’t hide the smile even as you returned to your work.
You had a date with Javier Peña.
***
You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, picking at your hair and running your hands down the front of the dress you had on. It was five minutes till six and your nerves had reached an all time high as you fussed with your outfit while waiting for Javier to arrive. He hadn’t specified where he was taking you tonight, and you had been too caught up in the fact that he had asked you on a date to even think about inquiring about the destination. So now you were stuck here, in front of your mirror, deciding whether you dressed appropriately or not. You didn’t want to stay in your work clothes for obvious reasons, but you also didn’t want to be overdressed. So, you ended up settling on a simple yellow sundress, something suitable for the warm Colombian weather, and also a bit nicer than what you usually wear.
A sudden and firm knocking at your door made your heart race, and you glanced at your reflection in the mirror one last time before you darted from the bathroom and out to the living room grabbing your purse from the couch as you went.
“I’m coming!” you call as you approached the door.
Your hand fell to the doorknob and you close your eyes, taking one final steadying breath, trying to remind yourself that it was just a date and that you had done this a million times. Why are you freaking out? You open your eyes again before finally turning the knob and opening the door. You smiled at the sight that greeted you – it was Javier, obviously, but he was a little more dressed up than usual. Dark jeans paired with a dark red button up shirt that complimented him very well with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You watched as his mouth fell open slightly and his eyes traveled from your face down to your feet then back up again, and you felt yourself flush under his gaze, suddenly self-conscious.
“Is this okay?” you ask, fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress, “You didn’t say where we were going so I just-“
Javier cut you off, “No, no – nothing’s wrong I just,” he stumbles over his words, resting one hand on his hip while gesturing to you with the other, “Te ves hermosa,” he says.
You feel your face heat up even more at his compliment, “Thank you Javi,” you say quietly, “you look really handsome yourself,” you state, stepping from the apartment and locking the door behind you before turning to him again, giving him a wide smile.
“Ready?” you ask.
Javier returns the gesture, casting you his signature smile before offering you his hand, “of course, my car is parked out front.” He says, threading his finger with yours as you place your hand in his
Neither of you say anything until you reach his car. He opens the door for you, waiting until you get inside before shutting it and walking around to his side. the minuet the door is shut you are hit with the faintly familiar smell of whiskey, cigarettes, and just a very faint hint of cologne - a smell that you can only describe as Javi. You watch as he walks around the front of the car to the driver’s side and opens the door, sliding in and starting the ignition. He pulls out of the parking lot of your apartment and onto the road before you finally speak.
“Where are we going anyway?” you ask.
Javier glances from the road to you momentarily before shrugging his shoulder slightly and returning his gaze to the road, “it’s just this mom and pop place on the other side of town. I’m friends with the owners so I go there a lot, it’s probably one of the best restaurants in Bogotá. They have the best enmolada’s in town,” he says confidently.
You nod, “That sounds good. I’m excited to try something other than the places on my street,” you admit.
“Well, after you eat here, you won’t want to eat anywhere else,” he insists.
You chuckle, “we’ll see about that.”
The conversation continues on like that, both of you talking about little things until you pull into the parking lot of the restaurant and Javier kills the engine. He quickly hops out of the driver’s seat and jogs over to your side, opening your door before you could and offering you his hand to help you out.
Ever the gentleman it seems.
You give him a small smile and don’t fail to notice that he keeps his hand in yours all the way into the restaurant. He calls a short greeting to a man in the back of the restaurant, someone who you assume to be the owner he claimed to know, before you were both seated in a booth towards the middle of the room. Javier doesn’t even let you look at the menu that had been sat in front of you, stating that you were going to try the enmolada’s just so he could prove to you he was right. You just rolled your eyes teasingly, swatting his arm but relenting to his request, nonetheless. As you two waited on your meal, and even throughout the meal, conversation flowed nonstop. You talked about anything and everything. Whether it was work, family, telling him about the antics you and Steve got into at work, or Javier telling you stories about his Dad and the trouble they would get into when he was younger. It was…refreshing. You can’t remember the last time you had laughed or smiled this much in years, not to mention the near constant butterflies in your stomach anytime Javier smiled or winked at you. You found yourself hoping that there would be more dates in the future. More Javier in your future. Both of you stayed late into the night, your dishes mostly finished and taken away by the waiter hours before, yet you two stayed talked until you brought up the one question you had been curious about all night but kept forgetting to ask.
“So, what do you do?” you ask, “You know what I do for work, but you haven’t told me what kind of work you do.” You observe innocently.
Javier takes a sip of his drink and shrugs, “my family runs a coffee plantation on the outskirts of Bogotá,” he begins, “It’s gotten pretty big in the past few years so I help manage it and deal with exports,” he states.
You feel your eyes brows raise, “I didn’t take you for a coffee bean farmer,” you joke.
Javier rolls his eyes, “I’m not,” he defends, “I handle the managerial side of it. I’m better with logistics and running the business,” he explains, “but I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty if I have too,” he says plainly.
You nod your head, completely unaware of the double meaning behind Javier’s words. While he wasn’t telling you the whole truth, he wasn’t necessarily lying to you. He did handle the business side of things, he was good at logistics and planning and strategizing, just not for a coffee plantation. But you didn’t know that, and Javier intended to keep it that way.
He was about to turn the conversation back on you when he heard his name being called. He stopped in his tracks and looked up to see the owner, Mateo, walking up to the booth you both occupied.He stopped when he was next to the table and leaned down to whisper in Javier’s ear.
You looked between them confusedly, watching as the smile fell from Javier’s face before he patted the man’s arm, “Está bien, ya voy” Javier says, sighing as the man walks away and he looks to you, a slightly regretful look in his eyes.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, as he stands from the booth.
You cast him a confused glance, “What? Where – “
He cuts you off, “I promise it will only take a minute,” he says, eyes pleading with you.
You swallow your questions and just nod, “Okay, I’ll be here,” you say quietly, eyes not leaving him as he nods before walking to the back of the restaurant.
He was true to his word however, because not even five minutes later you saw Javier stalk back into the dinning room. But the minute he arrived back at your table you could tell something was off, his lips were set into a frown and his shoulders were tense. But mostly you could tell when he spoke, his words harsh and clipped.
“We have to go,” he said curtly, standing beside the table and looking down at you.
It feels like you have whiplash from how different his demeanor is, but you don’t really think to question him as you stand from your seat and struggle to keep up with this fast pace as you exit the building.
“Is everything okay?” you ask when you get to the car, not failing to notice how he doesn’t open the door for you this time.
He let’s out a small huff as you both climb into the car, and he puts the key into the ignition, bringing the car to life and pulling out of the parking lot, “it’s nothing,” he snaps, ushering you both into an anxious silence.
You don’t dare say a word as Javier drives you back to your apartment, the tension in the air suffocating. You keep your eyes on the scenery passing by outside the window, afraid that if you even look at him, you’ll set something off. Only when you pull up to your apartment is there a slight shift in the atmosphere. He parks the car and kills the engine, exiting his side and walking over to greet you as you exit yours. He doesn’t take your hand, but he does walk with you up to your apartment, his hand laying gently on the small of your back until you reach your door. Once you arrive, you turn to face him, swallowing past the anxious lump in your throat in order to speak, a small effort to try and lessen the tension.
“I had a really good time tonight,” you say quietly, not meeting his eyes.
Your voice is small, as if your afraid you’ll upset him if you speak any louder, and Javier lets outs a sigh, rubbing a hand down his face.
The night had started out great for Javier. He had the perfect plan to get just that much closer to you, and it all started with this date. Had to put on an act. It went perfectly in the beginning, he oversold his chivalrous nature, silently celebrating when you fell for it immediately. He took you to his favorite restaurant, something else he knew you would like since it showed you more of him personally. Then, you both started talking, and as the evening drew on longer and longer, Javier started to notice a small problem.
He wasn’t acting anymore.
His laughs became less forced, his smiles came naturally, and he even felt an unfamiliar stirring in his chest when you would let out a laugh or blush at something he said. As the minutes turned into hours, Javier was completely and utterly surprised to come to the conclusion that he genuinely enjoyed your company. He enjoyed hearing about your everyday life, even the mundane things – and this was not part of the plan.
Neither was the phone call.
What turned out to be a surprisingly good night on Javier’s part, was turned sour when Mateo had approached Javier, informing him that there was a call for him on the establishments phone, apparently one of his men searching for him. If that wasn’t disconcerting enough, the information he was given completely ruined his mood. His closest confidant and partner in the cartel, Arlo, was on the other end, and he had nothing good to say. He had information that several of the lower level cartel members had gone AWOL, deciding that they no longer wanted to follow the rules Javier had set in place, claiming that his discrete nature was preventing the cartel from moving further ahead. So, they left, leaving mass destruction in their wake as well as stealing several hundred kilos of his cocaine supply on the way out. Javier had slammed the phone back on the receiver, mind clouded with frustration not only about his stolen drugs and betrayal, but about his feelings for you as well. His anger had gotten the best of him and given him the title of ‘worst date ever’. He only realized this as he stood in front of you at your apartment, taking in the way your arms wrapped around yourself and how you refused to look at him as you told him you had a good time despite acting the exact opposite.
“No,” he sighs, “you didn’t. And it’s my fault,” he admits, regret lacing his words.
You finally met his eyes as the words left his lips and you shook your head, reaching out to take one of his hands on your own, squeezing gently, “No, Javi – I really did have a good time,” you reassured, “the ending was a little…tense,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders slightly before continuing, “but I really did have a great time. I promise.”
Javier looked to you now, eyes searching yours and finding nothing but sincerity. And in that moment, Javier knew he was in a lot deeper than he had anticipated. Yet, he couldn’t find it in him to care all that much, not as he saw the innocent look in your eyes and the small smile tugging at your lips. You genuinely had a good night, and seemed to care about him in some way, something Javier hasn’t experience in a long time. So, before he can stop himself, his free hand is gently cupping your cheek, as he leans down slightly, smiling just a little when your lips meet his. You let go of his hand in favor of bringing both of yours to rest on his chest, while his other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
Your heart stutters as your lips move in sync, and even though you had done a lot more than just kiss him the first time you met, this was different. You couldn’t explain how, but you just knew there was something more behind this small act of affection than anything else. When Javier finally pulls away, you both are slightly breathless and you take a small step back, pulling your keys from your purse and gesturing to your apartment - a silent plea for him to stay.
Javier pauses for a moment. His initial reaction is to jump on the opportunity, say yes and stay with you all night long, but his more rational thoughts are telling him no. He’s already starting to feel things he shouldn’t, this wasn’t meant to be real, He just needs to get close to you to protect his cartel - his life. He can’t let his foolish feelings get in the way of protecting everything he’s built. So, he shakes his head, trying to ignore the pang in his chest at your slightly crestfallen expression.
He reaches forward, taking your hand in his lightly, “I would love too,” he admits, “but there’s an issue at work that have to deal with…that’s what happened back at the restaurant,” he explains.
Though you’re still disappointed, you nod, “I get it,” you turn and unlock your apartment door, one of your hands still held in Javier’s as you take a small step inside the apartment, “I think I understand more than anyone really,” you say earnestly.
Javier casts you a small, albeit regretful, smile before bringing the back of your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, “thank you,” he says quietly, dropping your hand and taking a step back, “buenas noches preciosa,” he says lowly, before turning and retreating down the hallway.
“Buenas noches, Javi,” you whisper.
But by the time you reply, he’s already out of sight - leaving you with a warm feeling in your chest but completely unaware of the storm raging inside of him.
////
¿Hola? ¿Hay alguien ahí? – hello? Is anyone there?
¿Javier? este es (y/n), ¿es este el número correcto? – Javier? This is (y/n), is this the right number?
There was that familliar feeling again. It's been eight days and it's still there. Like someone was watching you.
You didn't think much of it at first, maybe it was just your imagination. Maybe it was just a coincidence. But you've had enough. The dog park that you were at was your sanctuary. You have decided to put off coming to the dog park as it might urge whoever was stalking you to go there and disturb the dogs but this is the eigth day that you haven't been and yoy decided that you've had enough. You decided to go to the dog park after your classes. You had no idea why this place held such an important spot inside your heart but somehow it felt like home.
That was until you felt that familliar gaze. You gripped the grey umbrella that you always carry with you and walked towards the direction of the fountain, where you can feel the gaze was coming from.
"What do you want?" You ask out loud to an empty space. "Just come out, you've already blown your cover."
Then you heard a tiny bark, and as you turned around you saw a black labrador running after you. His leash dragging behind him leaving a bewildered man staring at his dog and his hands are gripping his hair so tight you were scared he was going to rip them off.
The dog jumped on your lap and began licking your face. You smiled and gave decided to pat him on the head, but the dog decided that it wasn't enough as he laid on his back seemingly asking for a belly rub.
"I'm sorry, my dog doesn't usually do this." The man from earlier finally approached you. You ignored him for a while, pouring all of your attention to the labrador who is having the time of his life right now.
"Were you the one who kept on following me?" You asked finally sparing the man a glance. He wasn't too bad, in fact he looked very good. Something deep inside you wanted to just grab his face and kiss him, but that was also probably the same side of you who says the most innapropriate joke at a any given serious situation so you decided to ignore it.
"Those were all coincidences please believe me." The way he said it made you want to instantly believe him. It was like his voice is a spider web and you were the fly that got caught in it. You're surely gonna get trapped.
"Anyway, can I have you dog?" You asked deciding to just drop the subject. The man was still staring at you and muttered something under his breath and then let out a small laugh. "What is it?"
"Nothing it's just that, i'm really glad that humans don't change."
In retrospect, that should've given you an insight to what was standing in front of you. But sometimes, well most of the time, you only use your head for decoration. But at the very far back of your head a small light bulb lit up.
You stopped rubbing the dog's belly and decided to stand up. The dog, visibly frustrated, decided to let it go and just sat beside your leg, resting his head on top of your shoes. Once you looked at the man eye to eye, a small voice at the back if your head whispered 'It's him'. As if urging you to remember a memory that you have forgotten.
But a memory long forgotten is hard to get back. The man standing in front of you knew that all too well. "That's my dog Cerberus." He then reached out his hand to you and finally introduced himself. "My name is Bucky. Others call me Lucifer."
He really wasn't supposed to meet you. He was not allowed. But then again, the King of Hell wouldn't be considered the King of Hell if he kept following the same rules over and over again, right?
