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you-didnt-see-that-cuming · 3 years

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Mirror’s Image | Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Being with Javier feels like paradise. Being fucked against a mirror by Javier feels like euphoria.

Rated: E

Word Count: 2.7k

AO3 Link

Masterlist

A/N: I’ve been on my loving pedro bullshit again so here is some mirror sex with javier peña

When working as a DEA agent in Colombia, there were rarely ever moments that called for celebration. However, the raid based on information that Y/N had spent countless hours and sleepless nights collecting and deciphering was definitely one of those moments. Several tons of cocaine, crates of firearms, and multiple high-ranking and very wanted narcos had been seized with no casualties, along with new information about how Escobar was smuggling things in and out of Colombia.

Even Carillo, who rarely ever smiled, had seen all the work Y/N had put into organizing the raid and was hiding a grin when he announced a celebratory dinner at a bar down the street from the embassy. Y/N was heading back to the police cruisers for a ride back to the embassy when Javier appeared suddenly at her side, his voice low and his hand sliding into her back pocket.

“You have no idea how sexy you looked pointing a gun and shouting orders hermosa, I almost took you right then and there,” he whispered, leaning closer so that only she could hear him. Y/N could feel her cheeks heat and a spark tugging deep in her stomach. The two of them had been secretly seeing each other for over a year, not even clueing Murphy in on what they were behind closed doors.

“Javier! What if someone sees us?” Y/N whispered harshly, although she wished she could lean into him and finally feel his hands on her properly after the long day they had had. His hands were always warm and soft against her skin, a juxtaposition from his perfectly calloused fingertips that would leave marks on her sides for weeks. The thought of him holding her up against the wall, bruising her thighs as he drew orgasm after orgasm from her was enough to make her feel an even more powerful surge of sparks in her abdomen.

“Don’t worry hermosa, I’ll have you all to myself tonight,” Javier leaned into her neck and lightly bit down on the edge of her earlobe, sending shivers down her spine and intensifying the sparks in her core. Her eyes fluttered shut as Javier pulled away, walking in the opposite direction as if nothing had happened, a confident swagger in his gait.

Y/N had to bite her lip to keep from moaning, now frustrated and wanting a certain someone between her legs, and it wasn’t until Carillo’s voice startled her out of her thoughts that Y/N took her eyes off of Javier and his immaculate frame.

“You alright there Y/N? I thought you’d be heading back to get ready for tonight?” Carillo was an intimidating man, his shoulders and chest broad and a no-nonsense sort of look that was plastered on his face at all times.

“Oh! Yes, um, I was just distracted for a moment, yes I’m heading back right now, I think I’m going to take a shower and get all of this grime off of me,” Y/N chuckled nervously before she rushed into one of the cruisers getting ready to leave for the embassy. She still had a couple hours before she had to arrive at the time Carillo had given everyone, and although Carillo was a stickler for punctuality, Y/N would still have time to unwind in the shower and prepare for the night. After all, if she wanted to spend the night with Javier like he had teased her earlier, she might as well make it worth her while.

~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s shower was the first time that she had been able to fully relax over the past few months. Almost all of her time had been spent pouring over evidence and tracking down witnesses and information, so the steam was a welcome treat for her aching muscles. Y/N stood beneath the rainfall setting of her shower, slowly kneading at the knots in her shoulders. She hadn’t realized just how long it had been since she had done something as indulgent as taking a hot shower for longer than 20 minutes. Her only true indulgence had been Javier’s company whenever they decided to spend the night together. After a long shower that was desperately needed, it didn’t take long to finish getting ready and begin the drive to the bar.

It wasn’t a long drive, only about 10 minutes, but it gave Y/N the opportunity to listen to the radio and reflect. So much had happened within the two years that she had been working with the DEA in Colombia. The first 10 months or so had been filled with helping Javier and Murphy on cases, all while dealing with dangerous narcos and dodging the flirtatious advances of Javier.

It wasn’t until Y/N had gotten shot in the stomach on one of their assignments that Javier had realized that the reason why he hadn’t been frequenting the best brothels of Bogota for the past couple months was because of Y/N. Only 4 weeks later, the two had begun secretly seeing each other after work, meeting up at restaurants where no one they knew could run into them.

But Javier had promised that once Y/N had gotten her big break on a case, they would go together to HR and officially fill out the paperwork stating that they were a couple. Y/N had just gotten her big break on a case. She knew that the raid wouldn’t be the only thing that she would be celebrating that night.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a couple of drinks, everyone seemed to have loosened up and were engaged in loud conversation with one another. Y/N, however, kept glancing over to Javier, who was seated next to her. He always looked attractive, but Y/N could practically feel the sex appeal that was coming off of him in waves. He was wearing a button up with the top few buttons left open, revealing his smooth, tanned chest. She didn’t blame the lingering eyes of other women in the bar, after all, she had been one of them not too long ago.

So far, they had been careful about any public displays of affection, but after the stunt that Javier had pulled back at the raid, Y/N decided to throw all caution to the wind. Carefully, she placed her hand on his knee under the table. She could feel how he tensed slightly under her touch before relaxing again. Y/N waited a few moments before she began slowly running her fingers up his thigh, taking her time to draw flowing patterns like vines.

It wasn’t until she was only a few inches away from his groin when his hand suddenly seized her wrist. He leaned in close, just as he had done at the raid, but this time there was an edge to his voice, like he was straining to get the words out.

“What do you think you’re doing hermosa?” his words were almost like a growl with how deep his voice had gotten.

Y/N blinked innocently at him, an expression that did not match what she was attempting to do with her hands.

“What do you mean, Javi?” a smile was starting to spread across her face at Javier’s raised eyebrow. His grip tightened slightly around her wrist before he released her, standing up abruptly. Pulling an almost empty pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, he stalked off towards the back door of the bar, presumably to smoke in the back alley.

Y/N had certainly gotten a reaction from him, he was always so… responsive beneath her touch. She would pay for it later though, a thought that had her mouth watering and her thighs clenching together. Recalling the memory of his face between her thighs or her front pressed against the balcony window as he pounded into her from behind, teasing her and forcing her over the edge more times than she could count was enough to make her desperate for his touch.

Y/N waited until the song that was playing over the speakers had begun transitioning into the next before she stood to follow him. Y/N knew where to go, the door to the back alley was in the service hallway next to the bathrooms, a trip she had taken multiple times before for various drunken smoke breaks.

She almost had no time to react when she was suddenly pulled into one of the bathrooms and pushed up against the door, forcing the air out of her lungs. Javier’s mouth was on her neck within seconds, tracing the line of her jaw and down to her shoulder.

“Querida, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” he murmured, his lips still tracing her neck.

“Mmm, why don’t you show me, mi amor?

Javier’s lips were on hers within seconds, his hands roaming across her body like he couldn’t get enough of her touch and the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips.

Y/N couldn’t help but moan, Javier tasted of his usual whiskey and cigarettes, a combination that was always intoxicating to her. He wasted no time in beginning to unbutton the buttons of her blouse, trying to rid her of as much clothing as possible so that he could touch more of her.

Their kiss quickly became frenzied, both of them chasing a high that only the other could give. Within moments, Javier’s hands were on Y/N’s waist, turning her around and pressing her up against the mirror covered wall.

“Look at how perfect you look for me querida, looking like a fucking angel for me,” Javier’s voice was deep and raspy as he mouthed kisses over her neck, slowly and with purpose.

Y/N used her arms to brace herself against the mirror, looking at her reflection through her lashes. She looked absolutely wrecked, her hair was a mess, lips puffy, and the heaving of her chest from her panting was on full display. Javier stood behind her, giving open mouth kisses to her neck as his large hands traveled up her abdomen, squeezing one of her breasts in his hand.

“Look at how beautiful you look for me, hermosa,” his voice now a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

“Javi, please! Do something, I- I need you to touch me,” Y/N was pliable beneath his touch, she could feel his cock gliding over her folds, teasing her as she arched her back.

Without warning, Javier thrust forward, sheathing himself within her in one, swift movement, forcing a gasp from her lips. He stilled for only a moment before setting a punishing pace. Each thrust drove deeper and harder into Y/N, slowly pulling her apart and driving all rationale from her.

Y/N moaned as she watched their reflection in the mirror, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, the glimpse of Javier’s curls from behind her shoulder, the indentations of her waist where his fingers held her, and the way his cock looked every time he entered her. All of it made her stomach spark in arousal.

With one particularly hard thrust, Y/N let out a cry, her arms giving out and her body pressing up against the cold mirror. She could see the condensation building from their gasping moans and the heat of their bodies.

“Oh my god, Javier, r-right there, fuck-” a broken moan escaped her lips as he continued fucking into her, his fingers coming to grasp her thigh roughly.

“You like that princess? You like how I fuck you?” Javier growled, his hand pressing even deeper into the flesh of her thighs and waist.

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” Y/N’s moans echoed slightly off of the tiled walls. “God you feel so good, don’t stop Javi,”

“Always look like a fucking vision on my cock, don’t you? Always feel so fucking good for me, because you are all mine,” he said, biting down on her shoulder. A thin sheen of sweat was layered over Javier’s beautiful, tanned, olive skin, emphasizing the flexing of his muscles with every movement.

With his right hand, Javier threaded his fingers through her hair, grasping it in a vice-like hold at the back of her head, and roughly pulled her up so that they made eye contact through the mirror, Y/N’s mouth falling open in arousal at his actions.

“Look at how gorgeous you look for me, coming apart on my cock,” Javi had a smirk on his face, like he knew that she was completely at his mercy. “You like it when I fuck you like this? In the bathroom while everyone thinks you’re out smoking?”

Y/N couldn’t even attempt to answer properly, her mind too clouded with euphoria and the building of her orgasm, each rigorous thrust pushing her further over the edge.

“Come on, answer me amado, you like being fucked like this?” Javier’s brought his hand down in a firm slap to Y/N’s ass, drawing a shocked yelp from her lips.

“Yes! Yes, I love it Javi, please I- I’m going to cum, don’t stop!”

It only took a few more thrusts before Javier’s hips began stuttering and losing their steady rhythm.

“Where do you want me querida?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper in her ear.

“Inside, please I want you inside me Javi,” her voice was a breathy moan, a sound which always drove Javier over the edge.

Y/N’s orgasm washed over her, her vision temporarily going white from the euphoria she was experiencing. Only moments later, Javier’s low moan registered next to her ear as he came, filling her up with his cum.

Javier was still pressed to Y/N’s back, both of them panting as they tried to catch their breaths.

“You always look so beautiful after I fuck you, mi alma, I swear its like you were sculpted by the gods,” Javier mumbled as he pressed gentle kisses to her shoulder, just like he always did after he made her fall apart beneath his touch. Y/N loved this Javi, this was the Javi who woke up early on the weekends to go to the farmers market to get fresh fruit for her, the Javi who danced slowly with her in his living room to his old vinyls, the Javi who no one else but she got to see.

“Mmm, you always take such good care of me, amado,” Y/N was met with a soft grunt as Javier wrapped his arms around her midsection, pulling her even closer to his body.

“I’m going to show you just how well I can take care of you tonight, after all, you deserve to be worshipped,” he said as he continued pressing kisses to wherever he could reach. Javier had always been soft and gentle after sex, after years of meaningless sex with informants and prostitutes, he craved the caring touch he only got when he was with Y/N.

A comfortable silence passed between them before Javier slowly pulled out, his cum slowly beginning to drip down Y/N’s thighs. Y/N barely registered that Javier had taken a damp paper towel and was cleaning up the mess he had left inside her.

Y/N turned, leaning back against the mirror to watch Javier as he began getting redressed. Only a moment later, he began redressing Y/N, tenderly moving her body to put on her blouse and skirt.

Y/N hummed, her hand coming up to caress Javier’s cheek lovingly.

“See? Like I said, always taking such good care of me,”

A longing look crossed over Javier’s eyes before he took her face in his hands, pulling her into a slow, passionate kiss. When they finally parted from their sweet embrace, Javier rested his forehead against hers, letting his eyes flutter closed in content and happiness.

“Te amo, mi alma,”

“Te amo, Javier,”

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #javier peña fanfic #javier peña fanfiction

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xwing-baby · 3 years

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Impulse: Part 1 (Javier Pena x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Pena as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: ANGST! Explicit drug and alcohol abuse from the beginning, depressive thinking/intrusive thoughts, swearing

Word Count: 4.8k

A/n: My first ever Javi fic, of course I had to make it the angstiest thing I’ve written in a long time!! This is part one of the first part of the story which is also the end of the story... just had to make it confusing for you.

Disclaimer: I do not have any experience with cocaine or addiction, all writing is based on my own research and is not a good representation of how it really is! Don’t do coke kids, it’s never good.

Part 2

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Four in the morning, the sun was just above the horizon and you were stumbling home from yet another party. Enough tequila swam through your system that you didn’t really think about the wellbeing of your neighbor when you tapped on his door. You wanted to keep going. Javier, you decided, would make the perfect company. And maybe you could continue that kiss you had not stopped thinking about since it happened four months ago! You grinned devilishly at the thought and knocked harder on the door.

“Javi! Javier!” You rapped on the door. “Javier Peña, abra la puerta!” You sang, leaning all your weight on the door as your world span fast around you, “Javi,”

“What?” Javier opened the door suddenly, causing you to fall into him. You laughed as you caught yourself on his arm. You had woken him up, he was dressed in a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants with his hair bushy and wild.

“Hola!” You grinned up at him, not hiding the way you checked him out. You were obviously drunk and high, eyes red and shining brightly even in the dim light of the apartment block hallway. Javi wrinkled his nose as the smell of you hitting him, tequila and cigar smoke clung to you.

“Again?” Javi sighed heavily. This was the third time this week you had woken him up, accidentally or on purpose, coming home drunk. He was starting to worry about you.

“Si,” You grinned from ear to ear, You were in more of a state than last time. For one you were still speaking Spanish, something Javi had rarely ever heard you speak. You must have been with your local friends, he surmised. “No lo siento Javi. ¡Es divertido!”

“It’s not fun, you’re a mess. Get in here,” He pulled you by the arm into his apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“Eres enojado?” You asked, still grinning. You walked backwards into his apartment, tripping down the step and landing with a thud on his leather couch. You cackled with laughter.Javier frowned and put his hands on his hips, of course he was annoyed at you! It was four in the morning and you both had work the next morning. You dramatically flopped back on his couch and huffed at his grumpy attitude, “It’s only polite, Javi! They gave it to me!”

“It’s poison!! He exclaimed, “Why would you do that to yourself?”

“It’s helping,” You proclaimed.

“It’s not helping anyone, you’re gunna fuck up sooner or later.” Javi warned, as he had done many times before.

“I got that list,” You protested, “That was helpful!”

“And what will you do when they work out that you stole it?”

“No lo sé,” You shrugged. You reached into your pocket and grabbed the last of the coke you had been given. You wanted a little more. You pulled the tin out of your pocket and placed it on the coffee table at your feet.

“You-,” Javi started before he noticed what you were doing, instantly he was on you, “Para!” He exclaimed as he snatched the coke from your hand before you had time to open it.

“Necesito!” You whined, pouting at him. You were lying, you didn’t need it. You wanted it, a lot.

“No,” Javi snapped.

“Lo siento, Javi,” You pleaded with him, eyes locked onto the packet in his hand.

“You’re not though, are you? Fucking look at me!” He yelled. You startled and looked up at him as tears pricked your eyes. “Quit it. Now. You know what this shit does, stop it. Whatever you think you’re doing is not worth it, okay?”

“Pero-“

“No. Me vale!” He cut you off. “You’re better than this, Y/n,”

You sustained eye contact for a moment. The room was deathly quiet, he glared at you with fierce intensity. You had never seen him so angry, if you weren’t so drunk you would have instantly buckled under the pressure. The only thing your drunk brain could think of was how hot he looked, you wondered how rough he would be with you if he was this angry. You couldn’t help the snigger that crept up in your throat at that thought. You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop the laugh, Javi rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!” You laughed, “It’s just you can’t look at me like that and not fuck me!”

“Jesus christ,” Javier pinched the bridge of his nose. What little patience he had for you was running out fast. You continued to laugh.

“Can I stay here?” You asked.

“Take the couch,” Javi waved you off, his back turned heading back to his bedroom.

“I can’t sleep with you?” Your voice was laced with innuendo, he knew what you wanted. A part of him was tempted, your dress left very little to the imagination, but he knew he couldn’t do it.

“You’re drunk and high,” Javier said plainly, “and we’ve spoken about this before. No,” He was firm with you. He hated having to reject you for a second time but he wasn’t a complete monster. He wouldn’t sleep with you in this state.

“Worth a try,” You laughed, thankfully giving up quickly. Javi shook his head and walked away again, “Muchos gracias, Javi,” You called after him. He shut the door.

You woke up as the early morning sunlight pushed through the windows. You groaned and turned over, finding you were not in your bed but on a couch. Startled, you sat up and nearly screamed when you recognised the apartment as Javier’s. Luckily you were still fully dressed with your shoes still on, nothing had happened. Memories of how you got there were blurry, you remembered knocking on his door but had blacked out after that.

The clock on the wall said it was six am. You could go upstairs to your own bed clean up and hope that maybe Javi wouldn’t hear you and confront you about it.

You stood up from the couch, trying not to think about all the things the man had done on it, and grabbed your jacket from the ground. As you stood up the strength of your hangover kicked in, you grumbled. That was when you noticed the discarded coke packet on the counter. You stopped. You knew you shouldn’t pick it up, you didn’t need it. But the taste caught at the back of your throat and you found yourself wanting it. It was undeniably addictive, you had promised yourself you wouldn’t take it this far but the foul substance had made its bed.

“Go home,” Javi’s voice broke you out of the trance. He was only wearing sweatpants, hair mussed up from sleep that you had most definitely disturbed more than once. He pulled the cocaine off the table and threw it into the trash before you could reach it. You gulped, shame rising like hot steam through your lungs. You grabbed your things and left, running straight upstairs to your own apartment.

It was still early but you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep again. Shame was swirling up in your throat. How ironic that a DEA agent was addicted to the thing she was meant to be stopping? But you weren’t addicted, you reasoned with yourself, you were fine. This was no different to when you lived off Redbull for a month during finals, it was a matter of changing some coping mechanisms. It was a reaction to the stress of being so close to Escobar yet so still so far. You could change it, you had control.

You made a coffee, instant and black. It was bitter and disgusting but it would keep you awake. You collapsed onto your tired old couch and flicked on the tv to a telenovela rerun. You barely understood what was going on but the hilarious overplayed drama was light enough to stop you swimming into the depressing pool of thoughts currently threatening to drown you.

Eight o’clock came and you were ready to go to work. You were used to this routine now, hungover and tired, you knew you weren’t at your best but until this morning nobody knew about your slow descent into chaos. You weren’t surprised to find Javi’s truck gone without you. All you could remember from last night as how mad he was, and his face this morning only proved it. You dreaded seeing him.

Luckily, you were spared the hassle of public transport by Steve who trundled down the stairs after you and offered you a ride. The conversation was light and everything seemed normal for a moment. You got to work, Steve ran off after a call from Javier leaving you with a mountain of paperwork to hunt through. For once you didn’t care, paperwork didn’t judge you.

A few hours passed and the boys returned. You did your best to ignore them while they bickered, hoping that you could melt into the background, until someone tapped on your desk.

“Hey, I’m talking to you Rookie,” Javi’s voice made you look up. “Come on, we’re going,”

Before you could say anything he threw your jacket at you and you had no choice but to follow him outside. You tried to rack your brain for why Javi would be taking you anywhere today, especially after this morning. You had expected him to ground you, to be impossibly angry at you, not take you out. You climbed into the passenger seat of the truck and Javi didn’t say a word. He didn’t look particularly angry, he looked stressed but he had looked like that since the day you got down here. He was silent, letting the radio play between you, when all of a sudden he reached over and turned it off.

You looked over at him, expecting him to start his lecture but he didn’t. He let the silence sit between you for the rest of the journey. Somehow it was worse, you’d rather he got mad at you and shouted. It was just unsettling.

Finally you pulled into the embassy, you flashed your badges at the gate and parked. Fear was starting to grow now. Was he going to get you fired? He wouldn’t bring you down here for that surely? He would have called and said what he wanted, he hated coming down here unless he had to. You stayed quiet, too scared to ask, and followed him inside.

Javi greeted the assistant at the door, as smooth as ever somehow managing to melt her in her chair in five seconds. You smiled and waved to her, she scowled at you as soon as Javi had turned his back.

“He’ll be in a minute,” The girl called after you as you entered the Ambassador’s office. You took one chair, Javier took the other, in front of the large mahogany desk.

Unlike Steve and Javi you didn’t see the ambassador often, often left in the office while they had meetings about things higher than your post. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest you thought it might burst. You rubbed your hands on your jeans and fidgeted in your seat. Why in hell were you here?

Before you could bring up the courage to finally ask Javi the Ambassador walking into the room. You stood up immediately to shake his hand, Javi stayed seated.

“Y/n, nice to see you again,” The ambassador smiled kindly as he shook your hand. “Agent Peña,” He greeted the agent next to you, who nodded casually.

“You too, Sir,” You tried your best to sound confident. The Ambassador sighed heavily as he sat in the leather chair, took a sip of the water at his side and began the meeting.

“So, I got the call from your coordinators this morning, they’re coming down on Monday for the review. I thought we should have this meeting together to discuss things before they come down,”

Your six month review! That was what you had forgotten. Half relieved that your mentor hadn’t brought you down here to completely humiliate you, you smiled and nodded. With everything going on you hadn’t noticed the months fly past so fast, you barely remembered what day it was anymore.

The Ambassador carried on with the meeting, unaware of your panicking. You nodded along, answering his questions in short yes or no answers, he then moved to Javier. As your mentor he was the one in charge of delivering your progress onto your coordinators. You watched him speak, sound not registering anymore. You hoped to god that he wouldn’t throw you under the bus and tell the entire truth, he knew how much this meant to you surely he wouldn’t.

Nervous, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket. You almost had a heart attack when you felt something inside. A small metal tin, rounded and rusted. You immediately knew what it was and froze. There was coke in your pocket. Javi gave you a sideways glance, as he noticed you stiffen up suddenly.

You wracked your mind for where the hell the tin had come from, until you remembered. This wasn’t your jacket, Maria had given it to you a few months ago and never asked for it back. You hadn’t worn it before today and had no idea that your friend’s stash lay inside the pockets. You tried to stay rational, tried to listen to the important conversation happening around you but your hand stayed clamped around the drug in your pocket. It would help you concentrate, it could calm you down. You could take it and nobody would notice.

“I- I’m sorry can you excuse me for a moment?” You blurted out, interrupting the ambassador. He frowned at you, surprised by your interruption. You had gone white with panic, obviously clutching at something in your pocket but he didn’t think anything of it. He nodded and you ran out the room before he could verbally release you.

You tried to remain calm as you ran through the halls of the embassy, it seemed like everyone was watching you. They knew exactly what you were doing, they were judging you. You ran into the first women’s bathroom you could find, quickly checked nobody was in any stalls, and locked the door behind you.

Throwing the package on the sink like it was burning through your hand, you stood over it, watching it intensely like it could jump away at any moment. The voice in your head kept tempting you, calling you weak and useless, to do it to get rid of it. Nobody would know if you took it. You’ve given in this far why not do it. It will help you calm down. Take it.

As if you were possessed, you unwillingly opened the tin and poured the powder onto the surface. There wasn’t much there, barely a pinch full, hardly anything at all. You couldn’t just leave it there now, someone would definitely know it was yours. They all knew why even bother hiding it anyway. You should take it. You were too weak to resist it. Take it.

And you did. The chemical shot straight to your brain giving you the brilliant feeling you had been missing. You sighed in a relief as you felt every anxiety fade from your body. It wasn’t that bad, you feel better with it, the voice in your head said. You weren’t wrong. You did feel better. You looked it too, your cheeks had colour again, you smiled and laughed to yourself as it took hold.

You brushed away the excess powder and unlocked the door. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Javi leaning against the opposite wall. His arms were crossed over his chest, judging you with a cocked eyebrow. He had been waiting for you. You sighed and rolled your eyes immediately walking away from him.

“Don’t stand outside the women's bathroom’s Javi. It's creepy,” You snapped as you passed him.

“You missed a bit,” Javi commented, following closely behind you.

“Fuck off,” You grumbled. Despite yourself you wiped your sleeve over your nose. He was right.

“Shooting up in a bathroom is real low, Rookie, even for you,” He snarled. You continued walking down the hall, ignoring him. You were as angry at your actions as he was but you didn’t have control anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself, “Hey! I’m fucking talking to you,” Javi grabbed your arm and sharply pulled you backwards, pressing your back into the wall and trapping your body between his.

“You’re hurting me!” You complained, shoving him off you with as much force as you could give. It didn’t get you far as he pushed you to the wall again with as much force. Your back slammed against the cold stone hard, no doubt bruising it.

“Then listen. What the fuck is the matter with you?” He snarled, “Doing that shit here? Or anywhere in fact! You are completely out of control,” You ground your teeth, seething with anger, “Do you have no respect for yourself?” You struggled against him, trying to get away again to avoid the question, Javi held you in place. “Not going to say anything?” You looked away, purposely turning your cheek to him, “Get a fucking grip or I’m sending you home,” He growled.

You didn’t answer, staring at the patterned tile floor. Finally he gave up. With a grunt he let you go and stalked away down the corridor.

As he disappeared around the corner, a tidal wave of anger and frustration flooded your system. You kicked the line of chairs next to you, crying out curses as you sent them flying across the corridor. The metal clattered against the stone drawing people out of their offices, they all stood from their doorways and watched you, judging you. You heart hammered in your chest, chest heaving for air and you glared back at them all. You let out a deep breath and turned on your heel, leaving the mess behind you, and walked outside.

Despite himself, Javi had waited for you in the parking lot. You jumped into the passenger seat without a word, slamming the door hard to get your point across. You couldn’t tell if you were sweating from anger or the drugs coursing through you. Neither of you said a word for the journey. Javi had said he needed to, and you weren’t able to string together a coherent sentence for everything you wanted to scream at him yet.

You were too focussed on the music playing from the stereo to really notice where you were going. The rhythms and lyrics seemed to float around you and soak into your skin. You didn’t see Javi’s furious scowl when you unknowingly started to dance in your seat, something you couldn’t help but do when listening to Columbian radio no matter your mental state. You were having a good time until the car stopped and the music was cut abruptly. Snapping out of your trance you looked around and realised you were at your apartment.

“Get out. You’re done for today,” Javi said, his voice was eerily calm and you knew to be terrified. Quiet Javi was always the angriest.

“What?” You asked dumbly.

“Get out!” He leant over you and pushed the door open. You frowned, but slipped out the truck and did as you were told. Javi pulled the door shut behind you and rolled away, leaving you standing on the sidewalk opposite the apartment building completely dumbfounded.

You were stuck to the sidewalk, staring at the building. The sun beat down on you, scorching your skin yet you couldn’t feel it. You were numb to everything.

Your first thought was to find Maria and get more coke to hide further into yourself and avoid the awful shame creeping up your neck. The speed the thought entered your head petrified you. Your control was slipping through your fingers like sand and your body was screaming to move. Everything inside you told you to give up, that this was the tipping point and you might as well jump because what was the point in pretending anymore. If Javi knew what was the point in trying to cover up how much that narcotic had taken over your life. There was no point at all, you might as well enjoy the feeling whilst you could.

You turned to leave, letting go of all self control. Your legs knew where to take you, you didn’t even need to look where you were going. But you did, when three steps from your original position you crashed into a woman carrying a bag of groceries. She yelped, the sudden sound snapping you back to reality.

“What are you doing standing out here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” Connie startled you when she touched you, you had barely noticed her approaching. She frowned, concerned, when she took in your glazed appearance, “Sweetheart?”

“I’m okay,” Your voice cracked as tears filled your eyes.

“Oh darling, come inside. Come on,” Connie walked across the road, expecting you to follow but you didn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, you wanted to run in the opposite direction. You knew if you went inside you would have to tell her what was happening, you didn’t want to make her as mad as Javi was already. “Y/n? Sweetheart you’re scaring me, what’s wrong?”

“I fucked it all up,” You whimpered as you began to cry.

“Come with me, I’ll get you some water,” Connie bartered, still you didn’t move. Too scared to admit to her what was going on, “Just come inside, please,”

Finally, you nodded and followed Connie into the building. She walked you into the apartment, sat you on the couch and left to get a glass of water. You hadn’t stopped crying, everything in you was telling you to go and get more to calm yourself down again. You knew not to believe the thoughts but they scared you tremendously. You have really gone too far now.

Connie passed you the water, and you drank it gladly. She crouched down in front of you, pressed a hand to your forehead and checked your pulse trying to work out what was wrong with you.

“Did you take something?” She asked. You tried to shake your head and deny it but the way she’s looking at you, sternly but with so much care in her eyes, you couldn’t lie to her. Your no turns into a yes and you instantly recoil from her each touch, hiding in your hands. “What was it?”

“It was only meant to help,” You cried into your hands.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened,” She pressed.

“Maria gave me some coke, and it was fine and fun and it helped me get that list from them,” You started to babble, all your words tumbling from your mouth before you could get them into any sensible order, “and everyone was so excited and then I went out kept doing it and then yesterday I ended up at Javi’s and I was tired and-,”

“Slow down,”

“It’s my six month review, and I got so worried then I found it in my pocket! I didn’t know it was there and I just did it! Then Javi caught me again and he kicked me out here!”

“Do you know how much you took?”

“Like a tiny bit but I’ll be fine in an hour but-,” Tears slipped from your eyes once again, “What am I going to do?”

Connie didn’t know what to say. She knew you had been going out more with some new friends, Steve had complained because he was always woken up by you when you came back drunk from a party. That's all she thought was going on, you were partying, drinking, like you should at your age. But as she had come to learn, a lot of things in Columbia were not what they seemed. It seemed the darker side of life here had managed to get it’s claws well and truly into you. It broke her heart to see you like this, so broken up.

You stayed with Connie for the rest of the afternoon, sat on the couch riding out the end of you high. TV kept you company and Connie chewed her nails trying to work out what to do. She thought should call Steve, but if Javier was the one to drop you off here, he probably already knew. She wondered how long it had been going on for, she didn’t get to see you as much as her husband and his partner, whenever she’d seen you you seemed fine, if a little hungover at times. When she thought about, all three of you had taken on destructive habits to cope with the hell you saw every day. Steve was becoming more aggressive by the week, while she knew she was safe she didn’t like what she saw when he flipped out. Everyone in the building knew about Javier’s escapades and now you. It was upsetting to watch from the outside, she couldn’t imagine what it was really like to go through.

You woke up half an hour later, muddled and more tired than when you’d fallen asleep.

“Feeling better?” Connie asked with a sympathetic smile.

“Feel like shit,” You muttered. Your head pounded and the heaviness still sat in your chest. That was the kicker, the coke could mask feelings very well but every time you sobered up they were still there waiting. You sighed heavily, pushing yourself to sit up where you’d slumped over, and rubbed your face with your sweaty palms. “What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know sweetie, but I’ll be here to help you,” Connie said kindly, as she sat on the couch next to you. You felt awful for dragging her into all this, yet another person you had let down, ”I think you should tell your boss? Or you’re coordinators, maybe they’ll help,”

“I’ll be sent home!” You protested, tears filling your eyes once again, “I don’t want to go home, not now!”

“You can’t keep it to yourself, it will only get worse,” She said, you nodded sadly and cried on her shoulder as she pulled you in for a hug. “I suggest a hot bath, watch some cheesy movie- I managed to find that Indiana Jones movie on tape. I know you love Harrison Ford,”

“That sounds nice,” You smiled weakly. Connie let you go and grabbed the movie along with a bottle of wine for you. You gathered yourself together, enough to get yourself from Connie’s couch to your own at least.

“I’m sure Steve won’t notice it’s gone. Go and chill out and watch the movie, have a bit of normality for a change. You’ll feel better I promise,”

“Thank you Connie, you’re a really good friend,”

“It’s no problem sweetie, like I said I’m always here for you,”

Connie gave you another tight squeeze before you left. Iin the hallway you heard the clatter of Javi’s keys in his door below. You wanted to apologise to him, you wanted him to help you! You wanted things to go back to how they were before all this but you knew Javi wouldn’t talk to you. He’d displayed his distaste for the people that fell under the powder’s spell before, he wasn’t going to help. He had trusted you to sort it out yourself but now it was abundantly clear you couldn’t.

Once again your brain reminded you how easy it would be to get some more coke to cheer yourself up. You could go downstairs and walk down the street, find one of your friends and be happy again so quickly. You didn’t have to feel this pain.

This time, you ignored it and locked yourself in your apartment. You took yourself to bed immediately, not even bothering to turn on any lights along the journey through the tiny space. You fell on the bed face first. As soon as your body hit the soft material you curled up as tight as you could and began to cry.

You had failed. You had let your team down, let your coordinators down, let your classmates down and let your family down. You didn’t even want to think about the conversation you would have to have with your mom as to why you were coming home six months early from a placement you fought so hard to get. You thought you could handle it, but you couldn’t. You failed.

Part 2

Translations (disclaimer I'm sorry if these are wrong I've been learning Spanish for all of 3 months hence the limited use)

Abra la puerta - open the door

No lo siento Javi. ¡Es divertido! - I’m not sorry Javi, it’s fun!

Eres enojado - are you angry?

No lo sé - I don’t know

Para!- stop!

Lo siento- I’m sorry

Pero- but

Me vale - I don’t care

The next part will be out next Friday! Want to get tagged? Let me know!

Tag list: @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @browneyes-djarin @themidnightsun-12

gunna be cheeky and tag some mutuals i think may be interested? @ithinkwehitametaphor @wille-zarr

372 notes · View notes

harryskalechips · 4 years

Text

Illicit affairs

A/N Hellooooo! I haven’t written in a while but enjoy this little sad piece inspired by Taylor Swift! Thank you for all the love! I hope you guys are doing well! Feel free to leave a kind message in my inbox ❤️

Y/N was a new intern at Colombia records when she met Harry Styles. Their relationship takes a turn however, when they start an affair.

Tw: Cheating

Thank you @harrysleftchelseaboot for letting me participate in your writing challenge! For any writers out there who want to give it a go make sure to check it out! I would love to read some new work.

Prompts:

“Be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

“I’d punch you, but that would ruin that pretty little face of yours.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Leave.”

Note: I do not condone cheating whatsoever! Please mind that this story is fictional! As much as it makes me sad to paint Harry as a cheater, it’s part of this storyline I thought of as I listened to Taylor’s album, Folklore.

Word count: 5k / Masterlist

Y/N never knew she was going to be in this type of predicament. Falling asleep every night in a man’s arms, only to wake up alone in her cold sheets at dawn. For some odd reason, his vanilla scent smothered her atmosphere every time, leaving her in a subspace-like condition. She found her thoughts easily shifting to him or feeling the need to touch him. She’s whipped but sadly also clingy.

Does she have an excuse to feel this way? She was only 21 when she began working as an intern at this man’s record label. He was her first serious relationship and although he was married -there always seemed to be a weird tension between them.

It all started when she was assigned to follow Rob Stringer through his meetings in 2017...nonetheless she met Mr. Harry Styles. One of the members of the biggest boy band, One Direction. She knew exactly who he was, especially since he was sexualized by the media too often at an early stage of his career. She knew his first solo album was a hit and that in her job description, she had to be present at every interview he had. She also knew that the ring on his finger was a symbol of love for his wife that he married a year ago.

Months on end, she barely spoke to him. She was shy -feeling as if her personality would bore Mr.Styles. One night however as the team went out to celebrate his last show for live on tour, he himself invited her.

They were at a club in New York -A very private one to be exact when Harry found himself too interested in the quiet intern. To be honest, his life at home (when he was there) wasn’t what he planned for. His wife was too busy, only fighting him whenever he stepped foot inside. She barely had any more interests in his music or his life -and suddenly, it felt like two strangers living in that mansion. It wasn’t an excuse for him to keep glancing at the girl as she danced with her co-workers nor was it an excuse for him to buy her a drink. Funny enough, he always thought of himself as a hopeless romantic since he was waiting for that particular someone to love him back once again and save his marriage. But before he could stop himself, he was already walking towards the girls dancing on the floor and getting to know them.

After that night at the club, Y/N felt different towards Mr. Styles. Of course, she was still intimidated but she now knew him on a more personal level, leading her to call him Harry instead. That night as they sat in one the booth upstairs, she listened to his jokes and stories and it made her start to have a little crush on him. But hey, he was married and she would never want to ruin a relationship.

As her days became busier at Columbia -sorting papers and running for Coffee, She always glanced at the elevator hoping Harry Styles would come out and was in need of a conversation with Rob in person. She knew he probably called her boss though the phone but her brain was rummaging for ideas why he would start appearing in her life once again. That was until one day she heard Gina and Louise in the staff room during break talking about Harry coming in tomorrow. Boy, did her heart began to beat fast. Maybe, it was manifestation but she was a bit too excited to see him again as it’s been a couple of months since she last saw him.

“Y/N,” Rob calls out for her as he plays with a pen in his hand. “Meet me in the main conference room in five minutes. I need you to note down my meeting today.” He gives her a small smile and quickly walks off. She knew full well that this meeting was about Harry Styles.

As she sat beside Rob at the long table, she realized that the whole table was filled with people from publicity and other departments. Right in front of her was the man she’s been thinking of, beside him was his manager. It’s not like she was deeply infatuated with him but she did love thinking about his pretty eyes.

Matter of fact, as she first glanced at him, her eyes already met his. He was smiling and staying quiet as the meeting immediately began but his fingers played with his pen as he watched her. She was too focused on the shittier details of what they were discussing. He wanted to tell her so badly that she didn’t need to write some things down but he was having fun watching her bite her lip in stress. He wasn’t smooth though. Since she was already feeling his gaze burning through her.

As the meeting went on, Harry became a bit more serious about why he came into the office. They were in the talks of his new second album and now, they had to plan publicity and tour. Some of the staff even asked how his trip to Japan was and although he was so excited to share his fantastic experiences, it was sad to mention how his wife didn’t even bother coming along.

“Are you not going to say hi to me?” Harry teases Y/N as they’re the last ones to leave the conference room after their long meeting. She had to clean up the table while he chose to sit in his chair, pretending to do important things on his phone. When he waved bye to everyone as they left the room, he pointed at his phone, explaining he needed a few minutes to send “important emails” -he just wanted to catch up with his new friend, Y/N.

“Hi.” She tries her best to act normal and unaffected by his presence. “Sorry, I couldn’t say hi earlier. When Rob said five minutes, I didn’t know the meeting was already taking place.” Harry laughs at her apology since he wasn’t petty at all for her lack of greeting today.

“I was just teasing. How are you?”

“I’ve been good.” She smiles back at him as she tosses the last remainder of paper cups in the bin. “I think the last time I saw you was last year. Where have you been?”

“Why did you miss me?” He raises his brow as he spins his chair a bit. He gives her a smirk as he watches her lean herself on the table.

“Just a bit. I loved watching your interviews.” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms against her chest. “At first I wanted to sleep through them but now I rather go through those back and forth instead of, filling random sheets out for Rob.”

“Heyy, I think I’m pretty interesting during interviews.”

“Oh no! Don’t get me wrong you are! It’s just you have such a raspy voice and you talk so slow! You can literally put me to bed anytime.”

“Am I talking slowly right now?”

“Just a bit. I haven’t seen you in a while. I kind of forgot!” She laughs. “ What else did you do other than Japan? Spent some time with your wife?” Y/N wasn’t going to lie… bringing up his wife kind of made her uncomfortable but she knew this was a good way to get to know him in a friendly way.

Harry couldn’t help but give out a humourless scoff as he rests his head back on the chair. His eyes, however, meet her’s again. She couldn’t help but watch his adam’s apple bob up and down.

“Marriage is hard you know. If I’m being honest with you, I haven’t spoken to her in a week. She’s been on vacation, travelling in Europe I think with her best friends.”

“She’s a model, right? She must have a lot of free time. I’m sure she can make space for you.” Harry slaps his knee in sarcastic humour as he shakes his head at Y/N’s innocent idea of who his wife truly is now. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s more complex than I thought. I haven’t really been in a relationship at least a long term one.”

“Are you free tonight?” Harry asks her out of the blue.

“Yes.”

“Can I come over? We don’t need to do anything but I would love to hang out with you and I don’t know... forget I have all these responsibilities.”

“Sure.” What Y/N didn’t know that this night would forever change her relationship with Harry.

It was late in the night as Harry sat on Y/N’s couch talking to her about everything. His life, his career, his marriage. Usually, it wasn’t easy for him to open up so quickly to a stranger but for some odd feeling, his gut was telling him that he could trust this pretty girl beside him. It’s like he knew she was trustworthy and non-judgemental.

Ever since he first noticed her during his meetings, he found himself involuntarily glancing at her. That was until he grew some balls and invited her to his after-party. Maybe, He did find her pretty and a bit too hot but even if his marriage is going through the rocks, he did not want to cheat. He didn’t want to be that type of guy. Yet during his time in Japan, he found himself thinking of what would happen if he was single right now? Would he actually make a move on her?

“What are you thinking of?” The same woman calls him out as she takes a swing of the wine bottle into her mouth.

Yes, the found themselves enjoying Harry’s expensive red wine so now they’re passing the bottle.

“You.” He was a bit tipsy and so was she but they were still sober enough to choose their words properly.

“Me? Why me? Why not that hot model you call your wife.”

“She left my mind before I even met you.”

“Yet you’re still with her. Why?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at her as he takes a sip of wine.

“Okay, so why are you thinking of me? Are you happy you have a new friend?” Her cheeks were very red at his confession but she was trying to make herself believe it was because of the alcohol.

“I’m happy that I finally got to know the girl who sat quietly in the corner during my interviews.” He smirks at her as he watches her try to hide a smile.

“I was intimidated by you!”

“Why was that, love?” Y/N was not expecting him to call her that. She places the almost empty wine bottle on her coffee table and sits back in her same position as she’s wrapped in the same blanket Harry is.

“You’re Harry Styles. Every woman is head over heels for you and Every man wants to be you.”

“Are you head over heels for me?” Harry squints his eyes as he says the first thing that comes out of his mouth. It wasn’t his intention to flirt with her but they both knew they had overpowering chemistry. The only thing holding them back is well… Harry’s marriage.

“No.” She bluffs. He continues to look at her. “Fine, a bit but you’re married so I know how to control myself.”

“What happens If I can’t?” his tone drops as he mumbles to himself. “I’m sorry what?” Y/N chokes as she looks at him.

“I know I’m married fuck.” He sits up and rubs his face in frustration. “It’s just I never wanted a girl so bad after my marriage. I shouldn’t! I should be happily married but for some shit reason, I can’t get my mind off of you.”

“Harry, there’s consequences about what we’re talking about right now.” Y/N sits up as well as she watches him. Does it still count as cheating if his wife is barely in his life anymore?

“I know. I’m sorry. I know you aren’t that type of girl. I would never disrespect you like this. I should leave.” He begins to stand up immediately. Y/N says nothing as she follows him to the front door of her apartment.

“Thank you for coming, Harry.” She opens the door to let him out. He simply nods as he walks past her through the door. As she watches him walk down her hallway, she closes the door. How was she feeling? Well, she was trying her best to not feel regret but instead relief. She leans her body on the wooden surface, trying to make herself feel happy that nothing happened between them -Yet her heart was beating too fast for a guy she had just met.

The loud pounding on her door, however, makes her head shut up. She immediately opens it to find no one other than the curly-haired man who had just left her apartment a minute ago.

He immediately grasps her face into his hands as he kisses her eagerly, making her shut the door behind him. His body quickly pushing her’s against the wall, as his lips attack her jaw down to her neck. Her hands resting on his shoulders as she leans her head back to give him more area to leave his soft licks and kisses.

“Shit Y/N. You’re making me go crazy.”

“Harry.” She moans as he rubs himself against her centre. He whispers a command to her, making her jump and wrap her legs around his waist and he carries her to the first surface in his line of sight, which is her dining table. It was a dark wood wooden table that was meant only for eating purposes.

He helps her take off the sweater she was wearing as she throws it behind it her without a care. With her hand, she guides his mouth back to hers, making them both moan as this sexual tension is finally being relieved. Her nipples became hard in an instant as they felt the cold temperature.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He pulls away as he’s unbuttoning his shirt. His mouth was open a little bit from their heated makeout and his lips were juicy pink after kissing her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You want to fuck me right here?” Y/N blurts. She wasn’t the type to have sex with a new partner for the first time on her dining table but her room was a mess and she was a bit shy letting him in there.

“Are you that eager baby?” A smirk plays on his lips as he tosses his shirt. “Well If you’re that needy, why won’t you take off my pants?” Y/N’s cheeks turn red as she reaches forward to unbuckle his jeans. “You know, how fucking long I’ve been jerking off with my right hand?” Harry asks as his hand runs through her soft hair, letting his thumb rub against her pink plump lips.

“For a long time, Daddy?” She murmurs against the pad of his thumb as she lets his thumb enter her wet mouth.

“Look at you, you’re a little devil.” Harry pushes his pants off until they reach mid-thigh. He quickly helps her out of her tights, pulling them off her almost instantly that she had to hold onto him. “Should I get a condom?” He pants as his hands involuntarily run themselves against her soft thighs.

“I’m on the pill and I’m clean.”

“I’m clean too.” He looks down at her closed legs as he pumps himself a bit. “I promise.” Y/N nods as her hands guide his body back closer towards her.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs for me.” He whispers as he watches her show him her wet needy sex. “Fuck, you look so good right now.” He leans in to kiss her more. His mouth going south as they reach her breast. His mouth sucks on her nipple as the other grabs and rolls her the other one.

“Fuck stop teasing me. I need you.”

“Beg for me, Y/N. I know you want to.”

“Harry please!” She feels his hand directing his wet cock to her centre. Teasing her and playfully slapping her entrance. “Daddy!” His eyes immediately stop looking down as he grabs her hair, making her look at him.

“You okay with this love? Do you like it rough?” Y/N nods her head as she stares into his eyes.

“I need you to use your words, baby.”

“Yes, I want it rough.”

“What did you call me earlier?” A cheeky smile forms on his face as he watches this little girl about to crumble in his hand.

“Daddy.”

“You’re going to keep calling me that or what?”

“Only if you want me-” Harry inserts himself in her, making her choke on her sentence.

“What do you call me?” He leans a bit further downs so their bodies rub against each other as his arm supports her back while the other hand chokes her neck.

“Daddy! Fuck, I call you daddy!”

“I know I’ve been deprived of some good sex but you feel so fucking tight! Do guys not know how to fuck you?”

“Only you can.” Harry pulls his hand away from her neck and instead grasps her face so she can watch their centres connecting.

“You like that view? Is it turning you on? You’re fucking clenching me, baby!”

“Harder, daddy.” Her arm wraps around his shoulder as he pulls away and turns around, making her bend on the table.

“You want it harder baby? I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll never be able to sit at this table without remembering how I fucked you so good.”

~ The day after their first time sleeping with each other scared Y/N. As much as she tried to avoid letting Harry see her messy room, they ended up in there anyway. They participated in a couple more rounds and a deep conversation too until they fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

What Y/N was scared of was how Harry would react when he woke up in her sheets. Of course, they weren’t too drunk last night but the alcohol did give them a confidence boost. Now it’s the day time and they have to deal with this new boundary they had just crossed.

“Good morning.” A raspy voice speaks up as she sets her head on her hand. Her elbow putting all its pressure on her pillow while she watches the man who’s laying on his stomach smile at her.

“Hi.” She gives a soft smile back. Harry immediately notices the hickeys on her neck, making him not guilty but a bit more proud.

“I marked you.” Y/N’s eyes widen as she sits up and wraps her hands around her neck. “Why you don’t like them?” Harry fixes his position too so he can rest his back against the headrest. He rubs his eyes for a few seconds before helping her straddle his waist. “What’s wrong, Baby?”

“You’re married.” Her finger mindlessly traces one of the sparrows on his chest.

“I know.”

“You think she’ll get mad?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she cares.”

~ Y/N and Harry’s affair went on for months that they even reached his tour and new album reveal. Although they never said the three most important words, Y/N already knew it was there.

What she loved the most these past months with Harry was their privacy. The secret hookups in changing rooms, the knowing glances in a room full of strangers, and their affectionate touches when they had to pass things to one another in front of her boss.

She knows he’s married and there was no doubt, they fought about his relationship status. But Harry explained that divorces in Hollywood were more complex than for a regular couple. And while Y/N pretended to understand, she truly didn’t. She didn’t understand why he had to keep up this act of being in a happy relationship when he can simply leave his wife -not for her benefit but for his own happiness. Still, every time this fight occurred, they chose to sweep it under the rug. Maybe it was because she wasn’t ready to lose him. He had always been so persistent on his reasoning why he’s been delaying that action. She was scared that he would leave her during another fight only to run back to his wife. What she didn’t know was that she may be a bit too right, after all, he wasn’t ready to admit that his marriage was over.

“Hi, Baby!” Y/N opens her door to find her “boyfriend” with a bouquet of flowers.

“Hi!” She wraps her arms around him in a hug as she lets him enter her apartment that they know too well. If she had to be truly honest... despite having so much alone time with Harry, she’s never been on a date with him but you know -that’s something she had to let go when she decided to get involved with a famous married man. Yet it still didn’t stop her heart from feeling envious when she would be in the restaurant with her friends watching a random couple have dinner together.

Harry takes his hood off and hands her the flowers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t text you this past couple of days. You know that woman who lives with me.” He sighs and gives her a kiss on the lips before continuing on, “We were having lunch together and she noticed I wasn’t wearing my ring anymore so we fought.”

“So you’re wearing it.” Y/N places the flowers on the table and crosses her arms.

“I have too.”

“No, you don’t Harry. She’s only wearing her’s for show. You’ve been cheating on her for seven months!” Y/N snaps at him. She hated it when he wore his ring. It was just a real sign that maybe he was lying to her during the times, he said he was over their marriage and he was going to leave her when things become less complicated.

“Baby, hey stop yelling.” He walks towards her so he can wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry. You know I care so much about you. Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t stand that you’re married to another woman. Please leave her Harry.” Y/N pulls away as she holds onto his shoulders, begging him. “Please.”

“I’ll try.” He breathes out.

“You’ll try?” She pulls away immediately looking at him. “What do you mean? Have you not been trying to do that these past few months!” He rubs his face in frustration.

“It’s hard Y/N. I told you countless times.” “I know it’s hard but what’s stopping you from doing it! You told me that you don’t want to lose me but for some odd reason, it seems like you don’t want to lose her!”

“She was my first love Goddammit!” He finally yells back at her.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and stolen stares

They show their truth one single time

But they lie and they lie and they lie

A million little times

They both found themselves caught off guard as the silence screamed in their ears. How could this safe space where they spent their nights rolling in the sheets feel so… indifferent? “Harry please be 100 percent honest with me.” Y/N backs away slowly as she reaches a few feet apart from Harry. “Do you want to leave her?”

Silence.

“You told me you did? Did you change your mind?” Her eyes widen as she watches the man in front of her absolutely speechless. “I’d punch you, but that would ruin that pretty little face of yours.” She lets out a sarcastic laugh.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He stares at the ground with his hands in his jeans. “Of course, I want to leave her! It’s just-”

“Leave.”

“What Baby no!” He quickly looks up and tries to make his way towards her.

“Harry, stop. What we have is over! I’m not going to let you use me until your stupid sick marriage fixes itself!”

“Y/N that wasn’t my intention I swear! You know what marriage means to me! I can’t simply-”

“Fuck what you think of marriage! You don’t want to leave her but you rather continuously hide me while you go to awards with her -While you go on fucking dates with her!”

“It’s for publicity-”

“I don’t care!” She screams. “I realized that this isn’t working out and we should stop!” The pressure in her chest was making her hyperventilate. “We should have stopped months ago!”

“Fuck I don’t want to lose you, please. You’re the only thing that’s been making me so happy.” He reaches out to take her hands but she simply pulls away.

“Harry! Listen to yourself! You’re married! I’m starting to think you have a fear of having a failed marriage like your mom and dad! But please for the love of God, don’t drag me around because I won’t let you!” Harry’s faces change into anger as he gives her a cold look.

“Well don’t drag my parents’ marriage into this! I told you that because I trusted you not so you can use it against me!”

“That’s not what I was trying to do!” Y/N pleads. “You won’t lever her Harry! You won’t!”

“How do you think people will react!” He gestures with his hands. “ After three years of marriage, Harry Styles is getting divorced!” He mimics a random news reporter.

“So-” “I’m not going to let myself be categorized under Hollywood’s failed marriages!” “It was already failing before you met me! Can’t you see I just want you to be happy!”

“I am happy when you’re with me!”

“Well, I’m not!”

“You don’t mean that.” Harry scoffs as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration.

“How can I not? I’m hearing stories every day about your fights at home. This isn’t even a relationship Harry! It’s an affair! An illicit one! And I-I’m a secret!”

“I don’t want to share you with the public! They will judge us and they’re going to ruin you as they ruined me!” He rambles on. “I’ve been stalked and judged for things I didn’t know matter!”

“I would rather go through that with you -than to watch you from far away and only have you with me when we’re here inside this apartment.” She points at the floor.

“I can’t Y/N. I can’t let that happen and I won’t.”

“Then this is over then.” She quickly wipes her tears as she notices Harry doing the same. The yelling seemed to die down as they finally realized that this problem they tried to ignore wasn’t going anywhere.

“You know… for some reason, you taught me a lot of things.” Harry clears his throat as he wipes his wet palms on his pants. “Despite only letting you have one half of me. You somehow took over my whole mind. God, I would love to fight for you Y/N.” He looks at her as he feels tears forming in his again. “I do - I truly would.” A pause happens before he continues, “ For you, I ‘d ruin myself a million times but I would never let you do the same.” He emphasizes to her. “ I don’t want to let you go but I know I should because even if I go get that divorce, I’d still want to keep you as my secret -and that’s not what you want.”

“I-” Y/N stops herself. She wanted to tell him that she loves him but she knew it wouldn’t help them at all. “I’ll still see you for a while. After my internship though, I’ll be gone.”

“Do you think we’ll stay in touch.”

“I don’t think we should.” She blurts it out as her eyes glance at the fresh bouquet sitting on her table.

“Alright. I guess that’s it.” Harry sniffles a bit before walking to the door. “I’ll see you.”

“Goodbye.”

And Y/N thought she wouldn’t have to see him again after her internship. Although her heart was broken, she found herself counting the days until she can find a new job. After their unexpected ending, she no longer found herself lonely in the mornings but during the nights too.

The days he came by the office were more difficult than she thought. She would still feel his gaze on her during their meetings but he no longer greeted her nor gave her any attention. He would walk right past her desk when he visited the office but he would act as if he never knew her in the first place - Not a glance or a wave.

And that was fine with Y/N, at least she tried her best to think it was. Until her meeting with Rob a week before Harry’s album release.

“Y/N, I would love to offer you a job here at the company. I will give you a position in Marketing for Harry Styles.” Rob hands her a manila folder across the table. “ You know a few months ago, he spoke about your hard work and how much potential you have and he’s right. This would look great on your resume and the pay will be better here than if you were to start off at another company.”

Days of thinking and non-stop anxiety flooded Y/N’s mind. She knew her plan was to cut all ties with the pop star but the career that had just been handed to her had so much potential. Potentiality can help her with her student loans and give her a more comfortable life. She would be stupid if she passed the offer because of him. So with no more hesitation, she took her phone and called Rob.

“I’ll take the job offer.”

Part two here!!

#zoeyswritersappreciationwc #Harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styes imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles smut #harry styles stories #harry styles fanfic #one direction #solo harry #husband!harry #harry styles fluff #affair #one direction one shots

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hearts-hunger · 3 years

Text

them old love songs || frankie morales x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Frankie takes you on an early-morning drive and shows you just how much he loves you.

Pairings: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut | Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, mention of PTSD

A/N: This is just my domestic yearning to be Frankie’s wife and give him some good lovin’ in the early morning while we listen to old honky tonk music. Very soft married smut. I hope you like it! ♡

You woke to an empty bed.

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you ran a hand over Frankie’s side of the bed and found it was cold. No wonder you’d woken up - Frankie was a furnace when he slept, and you were missing his warmth. You noticed that he’d taken the throw blanket from the foot of the bed and laid it out over you when he got up to make up for the loss of his warmth, and you smiled to yourself. Small acts of kindness like that came as easy as breathing to Frankie.

You glanced at the clock; the red numbers showed it was just shy of five in the morning. You tried to remember if Frankie had said he was going in early to the shop - some mornings, when he had paperwork to catch up on, he liked to go in before Catfish Auto opened and have the shop all to himself. He’d worked hard after Colombia to open up his own shop, and he was more at peace with his work than you’d ever known him to be. He had a steady income, work that he enjoyed and was very good at, and he got to come home in time for dinner every day. His handful of employees were loyal and hardworking, and Frankie was a good boss; he knew what it was like to be away from your family, and created a work environment that allowed his mechanics to make decent money and prioritize their families.

When Frankie came home to you in the evenings, he was tired in a good way, happy to be home and able to unwind in a way he hadn’t when he was in the Army. He helped you make dinner and sang while he did; he curled up with you on the couch and read books aloud to you, most recently To Kill a Mockingbird. He slept soundly, with few nightmares, holding you close until he kissed you goodbye in the mornings to head to work. To anyone else, it might have been boring; to you, it was a greater blessing than you could have hoped for. Your husband was happy, finally, and you loved watching him settle into his newfound peace.

He still wrestled with his PTSD, and he would for the rest of his life, but you weren’t going anywhere. Frankie knew that, and he knew he could lean on you when it got bad. He had Santi and Will and Benny too, and the five of you had become a tight-knit group.

You were supposed to go over to Santi’s for dinner tonight. As you got out of bed and wrapped the throw blanket around your shoulders like a cape, you thought that might be why Frankie had decided to go in early, so he could get off a little earlier. You followed the aroma of coffee and expected to see him in the kitchen, but the lights were off except for the warm bulb above the stove.

You frowned. He never left without saying goodbye, and he wasn’t anywhere in the house. You pulled the cheery floral curtain back from one of the living room windows and peeked out, trying to see if he’d left already.

He was hard to see in the predawn darkness, but you saw with a bit of relief that he was leaned up against the hood of his truck, coffee mug in hand. You let the curtain fall back and opened the front door, wrapping your blanket closer around you as the cool morning air breezed in.

“Frankie?” you called, keeping your voice quiet for your neighbors' sake.

You heard the truck groan a little as he pushed off of it. “Right here, honey. You alright?”

You closed the door behind you and padded over to him, wanting his warmth; he collected you in a tight hug and ran his free hand over your back.

“Hi,” you said, resting your chin on his chest and smiling up at him.

He chuckled and kissed your forehead. “Hi. You’re up early.”

You snuggled closer to him and buried your face against his chest. “I got cold without you. I thought you left.”

“And go to work without my morning kisses? No way.” He took a sip of his coffee. “The weather’s so nice, I wanted to have my coffee outside. Sorry you got cold, honey.”

“It’s ok,” you said, your voice muffled by his shirt. “I’m not cold any more.”

He absently rubbed his fingers over the places he knew you held tension, and you melted against him. He smelled like Old Spice and Gain, comforting and homey; you traced your fingers over the Catfish Auto logo stitched into the breast of his shirt.

“You’re going in early?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Probably. I was going to, so I could duck out early for Santi’s tonight.”

You pulled back to see his face. He kept his arm around you, and you took one hand out from under your blanket to loop your fingers around his belt.

“You’re not now?” you asked.

He smiled down at you, the fading moon just bright enough to let you make out his soft features.

“Maybe,” he said. “I like spending my morning with you, Mrs. Morales. I might hang around if you’re staying awake.”

You closed your eyes when he kissed you, all soft touches and tenderness. If you’d thought of going back to bed, you forgot all about it as his kiss warmed you clear to your toes.

You gave him a dreamy smile when you came up for air. “I’ll stay up if you keep kissing me like that.”

He chuckled and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “I’ll make you a deal. If you go on a ride with me, I’ll kiss you as long as you want.”

Your brow crinkled in confusion. “A ride? To where?”

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Anywhere. Wherever. Let’s go get breakfast or something.”

You considered that. Frankie loved to drive, be it on a cross-country road trip or down the street to the grocery store. His happy place was driving his beloved old Ford with the windows down, an old rock ‘n roll or honky-tonk song playing, one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh. You’d spent countless hours when you were dating just driving, to nowhere in particular, until Frankie couldn’t stand to keep from kissing you any longer and pulled off to slide you across the seat and into his arms.

You smiled at the memory of a much younger Frankie on the night before he’d left for basic training. He was nervous and brimming with excitement, and he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. He asked you to marry him that night, even though he didn’t have a ring and was about to be gone for months. You said yes, and the first time he came home, he’d had a ring to put on your finger.

You felt his ring as he brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked affectionately.

You leaned into his touch. “Just thinking about the night before you left for basic. I thought you drove me out to the middle of nowhere to have your way with me, and you proposed to me instead.”

He grinned. “If I remember correctly, I did end up having my way with you too.”

So he had, and the memory built a flicker of desire in you even now. You tugged on the lapel of his jacket and brought him down to kiss you, fanning that flicker into a warm, comforting flame.

“I’ll go on a drive with you,” you said against his mouth. “If you have your way with me.”

You felt his smile. “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Morales. Let me go get my keys.”

You followed him inside and took a moment to freshen up, brushing your teeth and making your hair less of a mess. Frankie loved you any which way, just rolled out of bed or all dolled up, but you wanted to be a little bit more put together for him if you could.

You saw he’d fixed you a cup of coffee and grabbed a few blankets and pillows. Taking your coffee with a quick kiss to thank him, you raised your brow at the bedding he had tucked under his arm.

“What are those for?” you asked. You’d assumed you were going the classic cramped, back seat route when it came to your early morning lovers’ tryst.

He tapped your nose. “How about you mind your business, nosy?”

You smiled, content to let him go through with whatever plans he had. Frankie was nothing if not attentive in his romancing, and he’d been that way from your very first date.

To make room for the pillows and blankets, you sidled up next to Frankie and leaned your head on his shoulder as he cranked the truck. You didn’t need the heat on; Frankie radiated warmth, and his hand on your thigh kept a different kind of warmth running through you. You cradled your coffee in one hand and turned on the tape player to see what he’d been listening to.

“It’s Waylon Jennings,” Frankie said. “You can change it if you want.”

You let it play, the strains of honky-tonk drawl mixing with the cool morning breeze coming through the open windows. You and Frankie had very similar tastes in music, and the tapes he kept in his truck had been there for as long as you’d known him; almost every track had a memory tied to it, some of them sad, most of them happy and comforting. You rested your arm on his shoulder and brushed your fingers through the curls that stuck out from under his baseball cap.

You studied his profile as he drove down the near-empty roads, each of his features very dear and beautiful to you: the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the kiss-sized patch in his scruff, the slope of his Roman nose.

“Are we almost there?” you asked. You didn’t know if he even had a place in mind, but you were impatient to touch him, to shower his face with kisses. He gave you a smile that told you he was just as impatient for you, and you almost blushed.

You did blush when you saw where he’d taken you: a spot off the beaten path under the shelter of huge oak trees, well known for being a place young lovers went sparking. You were the only ones there at that hour, and a thrill of excitement and giddy nervousness went through you like you were a teenager.

“This ok?” Frankie asked as he put the truck in park, waiting to turn off the ignition.

You grinned up at him. “We’re not too old for this, are we?”

He smiled. “We’re too old to come out here late at night,” he said. “Now that I’m a regular working man, you know I like to be in bed at a decent hour.”

“I know,” you said affectionately. You pushed his hat back a little to brush your fingers through his curls. “Kiss your woman, Mr. Morales.”

He did as you said, responding to your touch and your words with a gentle eagerness that made you smile. He took your coffee from you and set it in the cup holder, freeing up your hands to drape over his shoulders as he took you in a bear hug and kissed you soundly.

You loved it when he held you. You’d always thought Frankie would be good at giving hugs, and the first time he took you in his arms, you’d felt more at home than you had anywhere else. His love language was physical touch, and whether he was showing you how much he loved you or needed some comforting, he’d bury his face against your shoulder and hold you close to him like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

You kissed his cheek, his jaw, the bridge of his nose. “I love you, Frankie.”

He held you closer. “I love you too.”

After a minute, he finally pulled away. You didn’t want him to go, and pulled him back - he obliged you with another long kiss before he disentangled himself from your embrace.

“I’ll be right back, honey,” he said with a smile. “Sit tight.”

You reluctantly let him go. He turned the truck off but left the music on, reaching over you to grab the pillows and blankets. You watched through the back window as he made a cosy pallet in the bed of his truck, smiling at his attention to detail in smoothing out the wrinkles as best he could.

“Your honeymoon suite, my lady,” he said when he came back around, offering you his hand in a gallant gesture. You giggled and took his hand as he led you to the back of the truck; he picked you up by the waist and sat you on the tailgate, standing between your knees to kiss you.

“I sure do love you, Mrs. Morales,” he said, cradling your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over your temples. “You know that, don’t you?”

You smiled. “Yeah, I know.” As if you could be unaware of the great gentleness and patience and kindness of his love, the depth of his devotion to you. “I sure do love you too.”

You kissed for a long while, long enough for the birds to start singing their morning arias as you fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. His hands found their way under your shirt, cupping your breasts in his big palms, his ministrations gentle and wanting.

“Get up there,” he said breathlessly, nodding behind you. You did as he said, leaning on your hands so you could watch him make quick work of his shirt, undershirt, and work boots. He took his cap off and tossed it heedlessly, his expression dark with desire and love as he climbed up into the bed of the truck with you.

“Beautiful,” he said, hovering over you. You laid back on the pillows, thankful he’d thought to bring them, and let yourself relax against him as he kissed all over your face and down your neck.

“Frankie,” you breathed, tilting your head back to give him better access to your jaw. His scruff rasped against your skin, and you drove your fingers through his thick curls.

He hummed at his name. “What is it, querida? ”

You kissed him again. “Let me take my shirt off.”

He pulled back and gave you just enough space for you to pull your shirt over your head. He grabbed the big quilt he’d taken from your bed and draped it over both of you, his touch less teasing for the moment and more intended to warm you up. While his hands roamed, he pressed kisses against your skin, between your breasts and all over your stomach. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cool air.

“Alright, sweetheart?” he asked. “Warm enough?”

You nodded. Between Frankie’s warmth and his fingers tracing over the waistband of your pajama bottoms, it could have been below zero and you wouldn’t have cared.

“Let me take your shorts off, honey,” he said gently. You lifted your hips so he could tug off every last scrap of fabric you had on you, leaving you vulnerable and needy under him.

“I love you so much,” he said, almost reverently. “Hermosa, mi amor.”

He kissed you for a while, worshiping you with his hands, praising you for your beauty, your loveliness. Both of you laughed as he tried to get his jeans off, wrestling with his belt and the sturdy denim; once they were off he eased himself down next to you, tucking you close to his chest. You traced your fingers over the familiar planes of his body, each dip and swell like a map to a treasure only you had the privilege of knowing. You pressed kisses to his old army scars and paid special attention to the thin white scar on his cheek he’d gotten in Colombia.

“You’re beautiful,” you said, kissing the spot on his jaw where his beard stubbornly refused to grow. His cheeks pinked a little, warm against your skin.

“Thank you for spending your morning with me,” he said. He ran his hand down your thigh, gently drawing your leg to rest over his. “Eres el amor de mi vida, cariño.”

You sighed against his mouth as his fingers dipped into your heat. “You’re the love of my life too, Frankie.”

He kissed you and nuzzled against you as he drew circles between your legs, easing one finger into you, then two. He drew you out with tenderness and skill, capturing the breathless moans tumbling from your mouth as he kissed you deeply. You carded your hands through his hair, rocking against his hand, giving little whines as you neared your orgasm.

“Love to hear you like this, querida,” he murmured against your skin. “So beautiful for me.”

“'M close,” you sighed, the sound catching a little as he crooked his fingers inside you. “Frankie, please.”

You pressed close to him as he tipped you over the edge, pleasure washing over you with a comforting, languid satisfaction. Frankie was very good when he did you quickly, every movement decisive and strong, but he was downright talented at slow lovemaking, drawing you to orgasm like it was an act of worship. He groaned a little as you moaned and tightened around his fingers, enjoying your pleasure as much as you did. He cradled you close as you came down from your high, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach.

“I want to be inside you, amor,” he said, sucking love marks into the base of your neck. “Take me inside you, please.”

You moved to lay on your back and pulled him with you, his skin pressed against yours, running your hands over the muscles of his back. He hovered over you again, rolling his hips against yours, humming along to the soft song that spilled from the radio.

“Wish I had me a true fine woman,” he sang as he nuzzled your jaw. “Let her rock me all night long. Baby we could get it together, like people do in them old love songs.”

You smiled at the sound of his voice, warm and soft and comforting. You loved it when he sang to you; he did it all the time, when he danced you around the kitchen or when he washed your hair for you in the shower or when he made love to you.

You pushed his boxers down, taking your time in running your fingers over his waist, his hip bones, the softness of his tummy. He buried his face in your neck and laughed a little; he was very ticklish, and you beamed at the sound of his laughter.

“I love you,” you said, pressing your cheek to his.

He pulled back to look at you, laugh lines crinkling by his eyes, bumping your noses together. “I love you too, pretty lady.”

He kissed you and settled between your legs; he eased himself into you, steady and sure until you were completely joined. He held you there for a moment, both of you basking in the feel of each other.

“Oh, Frankie,” you sighed when he started to move. You raised your hips to meet him, finding that familiar rhythm of your bodies together, pleasure rolling over you in waves with every press of his hips against yours. You held onto him with one hand and ran your fingers through his curls with the other, telling him how good he was, how much you loved him.

He groaned and sighed against your neck, and the sounds of his pleasure unraveled you completely. It was always like this with Frankie, both of you falling to pieces with each other, mending each other with every kiss and touch and movement. You held him close to you, feeling complete with him inside you, like he was the missing piece in the jigsaw of your heart.

“I love you, I love you,” he said, over and over, and you felt yourself tighten around him, drawing him close as you neared the crest of the wave building through your whole body.

“Baby, please,” he gasped, the roll of his hips needy and desperate. “I need you, I need - God, querida, you’re so good, so good for me.”

You held him tight enough to leave bruises as his praise brought you over the edge, moaning and tightening around him as your orgasm crashed over you. He followed quickly, praising you through it, kissing you even though both of you were breathless.

He lay close to you as both of you settled, resting his head on your chest, running his fingers over your hip. You brushed your hand through his hair, gently untangling his soft curls as you rested in the feel of him. Dawn was peeking through the hazy blue of early morning, pinking the sky and waking the rest of the rest of the birds that flitted to and fro in the branches above you.

“‘M gonna fall asleep,” Frankie mumbled after a while.

You moved your hand down his neck and across his shoulders, scratching lightly. “That’s ok, honey.”

He chuckled and snuggled closer to you. “You want me to take a nap out here with you with no clothes on?”

You smiled. “Okay, maybe not. But we can go home and lay down if you want.”

You knew he wouldn’t take you up on the offer; he was a morning person, and once he was up, he was up. You’d probably go back to bed for a few hours once you got home, or else take a while to actually be up and a productive member of society, but Frankie wouldn’t mind. He often said he liked you all sleepy and soft in the mornings, even if you were a little grumpy before he put a cup of coffee in your hands.

Like you’d expected him to, Frankie gave you one last squeeze before he sat up and started getting dressed. You splayed your fingers over his back, a parting touch to the sun-kissed skin that got covered by his undershirt and then his work shirt.

“Can you grab my clothes?” you asked, sitting up and holding the quilt to your chest. He rifled through the blankets until he found your pajamas, and stopped with his hand halfway stretched out to you when he turned to give them to you.

You blushed. “What?” He was studying you awfully hard, like a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just...”

He shook his head, his expression softening with a smile. “You’re gorgeous. I don’t tell you that enough.”

You tucked your hair behind your ear. That was categorically untrue, as Frankie told you every single day how beautiful you were. It never failed to make you blush and feel butterflies like it had the first time he’d said it, and you gave him a slightly wobbly smile.

“Thank you,” you said.

He grinned at you like you were the dearest thing in the world to him.

“You sure are pretty when you blush, Mrs. Morales,” he said. He gently tweaked your cheek and kissed you; when you gave a little huff of protest at getting just one kiss, he laughed.

“Get dressed and I’ll give you some more kisses, honey.”

You did as he said and helped him gather up the blankets and put them back in the cab. You stole his ball cap and put it on your head, turning to him with a grin for his approval; he tapped the brim and said you looked better in it than he ever had.

True to his word, it took him much longer than it should have to get the truck cranked and on the road because he paused to give you as many kisses as you wanted. He put his arm over your shoulders and drew you close, one hand draped over the steering wheel with that effortless cool that drove you wild when you were younger and made you smile now that you knew how much of a goofball your husband really was.

You kissed his cheek and put his hat back on his head, where it belonged. “I love you, Francisco.”

His expression crinkled in a confused smile. “Francisco?” he repeated. You hardly ever called him that.

“Yeah,” you said, grinning up at him. The first rays of sunshine caught in his hair, bringing out a honey golden color to his curls. “Or... how do you say ‘catfish’ in Spanish?”

He winced. “Bagre. But don’t call me that. Santi thought it was the gold standard of comedy for a few weeks in basic.”

You laughed. “Oh, I definitely will now, especially since Santi started it.” You softened and patted his chest.

“Frankie, then,” you said. “My Frankie.”

You touched your fingers to your lips, then to his. “I love you, Frankie Morales. I’m really glad I’m your wife.”

His smile was a little bashful. “Aw, honey.” He stole a kiss, quick and sweet.

“I’m really glad I’m your husband,” he said. “I love you too.”

You cuddled close to him, resting against his solid warmth as the sun spread pink and gold over the sky to welcome a new day. With the music playing softly, the windows down, and Frankie beside you, you couldn’t think of any place you’d rather be.

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekcryptid, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl, @stardust-galaxies, @theorganasolo, @qhbr2013 ♡

let me know if you’d like to be added! ♡

#i hope you guys like it :) i think it's pretty cute <3 #frankie morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #maddie writes stuff!#clan dinui #usercaty

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hiscyarika · 4 years

Text

When We Were Young

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Reader is the woman that Javier left behind on the day they were to be married. She sees him again ten years later, when he returns to Laredo for a short break from hunting Escobar.

Warning(s): Angst, Strong Language

A/N: This is the first Javier fic that I’ve ever written, so if there are any glaring factual errors, please let me know. This is based off the song by Adele but I listened to this version as I wrote. I encourage you to listen to it as you read for the Full Experience.

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There is nothing special about your Thursday afternoon trip to the little grocery store on the corner. You’re always in and out in about twenty minutes with the few things that you need to get through another week in your little Texas apartment. You always smile and wave at the pharmacist behind the counter. You chat with the elderly woman, Elaine, that always comes at the same time you do, helping her get the two cans of green beans she needs when she can’t reach the shelf.

It was the same every time.

Until you reached for the loaf of bread on the highest shelf of the aisle.

A much larger hand lands on top of yours, though immediately is drawn back at the contact. You hear a soft apology and a half-hearted chuckle. The sound of the man’s voice sends your heart racing, and you turn to face him.

You take a step back as you meet the eyes of Javier Peña, the bread long forgotten as a quiet gasp escapes your lips. It’s been years since the last time you saw him, since he left you standing on the altar of the little church down the street. He’d moved to Colombia without a word to you, leaving his entire life behind to chase after Pablo Escobar. You only knew what happened to him after that day because his family was so close to yours.

“Javier…,” you finally breathe, hating the way your chest is constricting and your throat is growing tight with the threat of tears. You shouldn’t be this upset. You should be angry. He left you without a word and still years later you’ve never gotten an apology either.

Javier feels his heart sink to his stomach when he realizes that it’s you standing in front of him. It’s been nearly a decade since the last time he saw you. The years have been kind to you, much more so than they’ve been to him. He has so many things that he wants to say to you now, so many questions he wants to ask, but instead he keeps his mouth shut.

He murmurs your name in reply, giving a slight nod of his head. There are a thousand things running through your head, but you settle on the simplest question of them all. “What are you doing here?” It’s not a demand. You’re simply curious. After all, he’s been the talk of the town since he started working with the DEA to take down Escobar. And with the drug lord still out there, you’re not sure why he would choose now to come back to Laredo.

Javier doesn’t answer immediately, trying to process the fact that your first instinct was not to lose your temper. He deserved that and more after the suffering he had put you through. He can still remember his father’s voice on the other end of the phone, not sparing any detail of your pain when they’d told you that your groom had run off. Just the thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“I, uh...have some time off. My partner pretty much demanded that I get out of Colombia and come back home for a little while. Bastard practically shipped me off himself,” he told you, his hands coming to rest on his hips.

“Does anyone know you’re home yet?,” you ask. He had to have kept his arrival a secret for you to not have known he was coming. Word travels fast in your small corner of Texas. Word about Javier Peña travels even faster.

Javier shakes his head. “Just Pops. He asked me to make a run for a few things so now everybody in Laredo will know before tomorrow morning.” He shakes his head slightly. He never wanted to be a celebrity.

“Well, tell the family I said hi. I should...get going,” you say softly. You move past Javier and head for the door. Your weekly shopping trip will have to wait.

Javier quickly turns to follow you, his hand darting out to catch your forearm. “Wait! I...I wanna talk to you, if you’ll let me. Let me buy you a drink one night while I’m here,” he pleads, his expression softening as you stop in your tracks and look at him again. He doesn’t try to hold on when you take your arm from his grasp.

“I don’t know about that, Javi. It was a long time ago. I’ve moved on and let go.” Even as the words escape your mouth though, you know they’re not true. For a while you thought you had truly healed from the loss of losing Javier, but with him standing in front of you now, you know that there’s at least a small part of you that will always love him, will always ache for what could have been.

“Please. I–”

“Goodbye, Javi. Welcome home,” you interject, cutting him off before he can say anything else, before you can lose the composure that you’re already barely holding on to.

With that, you leave the little grocery store and start the short walk back to your apartment. You have to force yourself not to look back. That would be the straw to break the camel’s back.

Javier watches you for as long as he can, and even when you’ve gone beyond his eyeshot he still stands there, frozen in place and time. He’s always known that leaving you behind was wrong, but seeing you again now, it’s made him realize that not showing up that day was the worst mistake of his life.

---

When you shut the door of your apartment behind you, the tears you’ve been holding back finally escape you, falling in silent waves down your cheeks. The flood of longing drowns you, leaving your chest aching as you stand there, wondering what the hell you’re supposed to do with yourself now.

Pulling yourself together for just a moment, you go into your kitchen, taking the half-empty bottle of red wine from your refrigerator and taking it upstairs to your room. You’ve already been forced to walk memory lane, you might as well finish the course.

There’s a box buried in the back of your closet. It’s no bigger than a shoebox, and years of neglect have left it dented and beaten. It takes you some time to find it, but when you do, the tears start all over again. The only indication of its contents are the two words written on the lid in Javier’s handwriting: “Mi Amor.” You sink to the floor with the box tucked under your arm and the bottle of wine in your hand. Settling with your back against your nightstand, you take a swig straight from the bottle before opening the box.

The first thing you pull from the box is a set of old Polaroids. The dates are all written on the back, spanning from your late teen years until just a few months before your would-have-been nuptials. They’re all pictures of you and Javier, and you find yourself smiling wistfully at a candid your mother took the day you helped move him into his dorm at Texas A&I. He’s got his arms wrapped around you from behind, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your face is bright with a smile, but the old picture is hiding the tears you remember blurring your vision. He’d only be a few hours away, but anything more than right down the road had been too far.

You go through more of the box, steadily draining the bottle of wine at your side until it’s finally empty. You’ve found old keepsakes, like the dried-out corsage from senior prom and a stolen takeout menu that you’d sketched his face onto during a dinner date. There’s old letters from your college separation, filled with lofty promises and declarations of love. All are lovely reminders of what had been.

It’s not until you find a wedding invitation near the bottom that you really begin to fall apart.

Your grandmother had insisted on getting them made, even though you didn’t think it was necessary. Everyone in Laredo knew when and where the wedding was, and to you and Javier it didn’t matter much how many people showed up in the end. You run your thumb along the edges of the thick cardstock, warped and yellowed from a decade of sitting untouched. You then hold it close to your chest, taking care not to let your tears fall onto it and further damage it.

If you had been entirely sober, you would think this whole display was pathetic. Things are different now. You’re not a lovestruck young woman eagerly awaiting a new chapter of life. You’ve made a life for yourself, diving headfirst into your career. It’s a life without Javier, one that you can’t even wish to bring him into. And yet, that’s exactly what you’ve found yourself doing.

You come undone when you get to the bottom of the box.

You didn’t know they were there. You don’t know how they made it to this box. Your best guess is your mother. But in a tiny drawstring pouch are three rings: your engagement ring and the two silver bands meant for you and Javier.

Sharp, painful sobs break from your chest. You throw everything haphazardly back into the box and press the lid back down. With as much force as you can muster, you push it across the floor, watching it slide until it hits the wall and comes to a stop. You rest your head back against your nightstand, squeezing your eyes shut. It feels like you’re in that back room of the church again, surrounded by yours and Javier’s family, the world crashing around you as his father delivers the news that Javier is gone.

You hate him. You hate him for what he did to you, what his return is doing to you now.

But you’ll be damned before you admit that you don’t still love him too.

---

You’re not sure why you let your mother drag you back to the Peñas’ ranch two nights later. Though you didn’t tell her about your run-in with Javier at the store, she knows he’s home. She knows that he’ll be there. Hell, Pops had arranged the little get together just to celebrate his son’s unexpected homecoming.

And yet you’ve taken more care with your appearance than normal, being more careful with your makeup and making sure that while your outfit isn’t overdressed for the evening, it still looks nice. You’re at war with yourself, wanting to be angry and distant with Javier, but you know that there’s no way you can hold yourself to that. And you’re sure that he won’t let the night pass without trying to talk to you again, without trying to make you understand why things ended the way that they did.

You sigh softly as you walk with your mother to the old barn. It’s been cleaned up and turned into an event venue, and your heart clenches as you realize that this was where your wedding reception should have been.

Your heartbreak doesn’t last long, because before you even see him coming, Javier’s dad has you wrapped up in a tight hug, which you are more than happy to return. You love this man like family, and he’s done nothing but treat you like his own daughter for most of your life. It’s a good thing you came. It probably would have broken the old man’s heart if you hadn’t.

“It means a lot that you came, hija. I know it’s not easy for you to see him again,” he tells you, keeping his voice quiet enough that you’re the only one that hears him.

You just shake your head slightly. “You couldn’t keep me away if you tried, Pops. It’s good to see you,” you reply.

He chuckles and pinches your cheek gently before letting you go, and as he moves on to greet your mother, you go to take a seat at one of the many tables set up in the barn. There’s already a decent number of people, which makes it easier for you to remain undetected. It doesn’t take you long to spot Javier, though. He’s surrounded by a small group of people: his aunt and a couple of his cousins, all of them undoubtedly wondering about his adventures in Colombia. He’s too busy to try and steal you away anytime soon.

When your mother joins you again, the two of you make your way to the long table filled with various dinner options. Your stomach growls in anticipation. One of the best things about being adopted into the Peña family is the food. As you put your plate together, you chat with his uncle who moves down the other side of the table. Slowly, you find yourself relaxing and finding peace in being surrounded by so many wonderful people.

You take your seat again, and other members of the family start approaching you, all of them glad to see you. You laugh as Danny pulls you to your feet and brings you to the dance floor, but quickly lose yourself in all the fun. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a long time, and you certainly haven’t been this relaxed since Javier came back.

You’re so absorbed in dancing around and switching partners that you don’t notice that Javier has joined until he’s taken your hands in his and pulled you to him. You stop in your tracks then, freezing as you realize just how close the two of you are. You can feel his body heat. He’s just as warm as you remember. Suddenly you can’t breathe and you feel like the walls are closing in on you.

Javier releases his hold on you and you look quickly around you, glad that no one seems to have noticed the interaction. You walk away without a word, trying to make your way out of the barn. You need some fresh air and some distance from all of the people.

“...She’s the one Jav left on their wedding day. Poor thing,” you hear.

The words make you turn on your heels, and you find that there are more people looking between you and Javier than you had originally accounted for. Tears gather in your eyes and you make a swift exit from the barn. You hadn’t wanted to become the center of attention. In fact, it was the one thing you had prayed that you would be able to avoid tonight.

Outside, the air is much cooler. There’s a breeze blowing through the Texas air, and gradually you feel your lungs opening again. You start walking, with no true destination in mind. You can’t bring yourself to go back inside and face everyone again, to face Javier.

You find yourself in the middle of one of the pastures. All of the horses have been brought in for the night, leaving you out there on your own. You take in a deep breath, looking up at the endless sea of stars above you. The noise of the barn has faded. From this distance you can’t even see the lights from inside anymore. You let the atmosphere calm you again.

Javier watches you leave. He listens as the loud chatter begins to die down, replaced by the quiet musings of his family as they look back and forth between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to run after you, to escape the eyes that are trained on him, the voices that declare his sins for all to hear.

His head is hung as he makes his way to his father’s table, a sigh escaping his lips as he drops himself into a chair.

“Síguela,” his father commands. Follow her.

Javier looks his father in the eyes, sees their hardened gaze. He doesn’t have to be told twice. He’s lost you once. He can’t let it happen again.

You don’t even hear his footsteps in the grass.

“I need you to hear me out,” he says, the sudden voice startling you.

“Go back, Javier. Before you give them something else to whisper about,” you demand. You don’t want to hear what he has to say. You just want to be left alone. You’re ready to go back home, despite the night being so young.

You turn to face him, finding him standing with his hands on his hips, his chest heaving with a sigh. “Please. Just let me say this and then you can go about the rest of your life hating me. But you have to know that I never wanted to hurt you,” he says. His voice is getting louder with his mounting frustration. You feel your blood boiling in your veins, adrenaline sending your emotions to an unprecedented and volatile high.

“It doesn’t matter if you meant to hurt me or not! It happened!,” you yell back at him, finally losing your temper. You’re grateful for the few feet that separate the two of you. You’re not sure you could resist the urge to slap him across the face if you were close enough to do it.

“Listen, I–”

“No, Javier. You listen,” you seethe. “I loved you. I fucking loved you with every fiber of my being. I had my whole life with you planned. And then you left me at the fucking altar. Gone. Vanished. To godforsaken Colombia to fight off the drug lords. The only reason I knew what happened to you was because of your dad!”

“I wanted to tell y–”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, Peña. I’m not done. Not even close,” you tell him. You can hardly breathe now as you lay into him, letting him have every bit of the anger and the hurt that you have been bottling up for almost ten years. This is the release that you hadn’t even realized that you needed. It feels good. Freeing.

“And what happens then? You become a fucking celebrity. Everybody wants to know where Javier Peña has gone off to and what kind of heroics he’s been performing to save the world from the cocaine crisis. Me? I’m just the poor dear that got left behind. Oh, you know who she is right? You know she’s still never been married? It’s a shame, but did you know he’s off in Colombia now? I heard he’s become quite the ladies man.We’re all so proud of him.” You mock the women that talk about you like you’re not standing right next to them.

Javier closes the distance between you, taking you by the forearms and holding you close to him. And then his arms are wrapped around you and your face is buried in his chest. You can feel his heart pounding against your cheek. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, which is now tucked under his chin. There’s nothing that can stop the sobs from escaping you as your anger immediately melts down into anguish.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, hermosa. Please…,” he begs you.

“Don’t call me that,” you say, though you don’t have the strength left in you to give it any force.

“Leaving you...it’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made. But I couldn’t bring you to Colombia. And I couldn’t have you following me. It was easier to leave you than to run the risk of having to bury you. That doesn’t make what I did right. There’s nothing that I can do to make it right. You can hate me if that makes it better, pero te quiero, amor de mi vida.” Those last words are desperate and strained. He’s just a few words away from breaking down with you. He wants so badly for you to understand that he hates himself for what he’s done to you.

You pull back just enough to look at him. “What did you say?,” you ask breathlessly.

“Te quiero, amor de mi vida,” he rasps.

“No,” you cry in disbelief.

“Yes,” he insists, “Not a day has gone by that I didn’t wish I could change things.”

“Damn you, Javier…,” you whisper.

He cups your cheek in one hand. “You can go on hating me forever. That’s fine. As long as you know that I love you.”

You gaze up at him, taking in every detail of his face, all the new wrinkles and lines that weren’t there before. But he’s still just as beautiful as the last day you saw him so long ago. Colombia has hardened him, made him rough where he was once smooth. But he’s still the same man whose memory lives in the box on your bedroom floor. He’s still the man you loved when you were young. He’s still your Javier.

“I could never hate you, Javi. Not forever,” you murmur. You watch as his whole face softens. “Tú eres el amor de mi vida…”

And then his lips are on yours, one hand still on your cheek and the other pulling your waist closer. You close your eyes, both of your hands gripping his shoulders. You hold onto him for dear life as all of your pain and longing seeps into the kiss. Finally all the broken pieces of you are whole again, your soul reunited with its other half.

You’ve waited a long time for Javier Peña to come back home to you.

---

Tags: @theforceofdisney @aerynwrites @hail-doodles @murdermewithbooks

#javier peña #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos colombia

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jetiikad · 4 years

Text

Treading water pt. 3

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Smoking, Smut, Descriptions of bad sex, Oral (F?/M receiving.)

AN: If you are uncomfortable with a man not exactly knowing what he’s doing please don’t read this!!! There’s no non-con or dub-con but just to be safe!! Unfortunately there is no Carrillo in this part.

Part 1 Part 2

It was a few days since you had seen Carrillo and something heavy laid rest in your chest, some kind of dread washing through you the few times his name was mentioned in the office. Yesterday you had nearly dropped your mug to the floor when Steve asked who wanted to go with him to ask if Carrillo had an update about the scrap of paper he found around a flaming barrel outside one of Escobar’s houses.

“You hate paperwork as much as we do.”

“That’s true Peña, but you can’t tell me sitting on your ass all day and doing next to nothing isn’t as good as going on a field trip.”

Steve just laughed, rolled off your nervous twitch, went straight for the door. Javi knew you better, raised an eyebrow when the door closed behind Steve and you back handed waved at him, shoving him off and out of the door but when you looked at him you knew there would be questions.

After a few months of knowing you Peña had small hints of showing he really cared about you, hard to see past the sarcasm, he acts as if he has no emotional stake in any aspect of his life. You were only left with a few others in the DEA office, and you rested your head on your hands, elbows resting on the table with all your work placed in front of you.

The day went slowly, when Peña and Murphy came back they were happy, the lead Steve had found had actually came to something and all of you going out dancing that night was reinforced with a pleasing vibe. Murphy had come into the office a few days ago, grumbling under his breath that Connie was complaining for a week that they hadn’t had a fun night out since arriving in Colombia, Javi knew a place where you could all blow off some steam and you had decided Friday night you would go for a drink. After what happened with Carrillo this was an attractive thought, drowning yourself with alcohol and finding a random person to take home to let off some of the weight held on your shoulders.

- - - - - - - - - - -

There you were, in a dress, something tight, straps over the curves of your breasts, mid-thigh length. Probably too revealing for something like a first date but just enough for finding someone to bring to bed, light makeup to highlight your features. Nursing your fourth drink early in the night when you heard your door try to be pushed open, then a defeated knock on the wood.

When you opened the door you were greeted with Javier, eyes raking down your body, eyebrows pressed into his forehead as he let out a light whistle. It took you a moment to realize he had never seen you like this, dressed up even in the smallest way. Mostly just your appearance for work, which you couldn’t find yourself to define any features, didn’t want a push of sexism or misogyny thrown your way although that was inevitable. However he’d seen you in much more revealing circumstances, nothing but a sports bra and tiny shorts as you worked in your apartment.

“Like something you see Peña?” Teasing tone leaving you, already vamped up on a self-assured confidence.

“Steve and Connie will be downstairs in a few minutes.”

He walked in, made himself at home by sitting on the couch and taking his cigarettes out of his pocket, pulling the ashtray on the coffee table closer to him and picking up your drink to take a mouthful, unbothered by any boundaries there were between the two of you.

“What’s going on with you?” he was muffled, could half hear him with his smoke placed on his lips.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb Cariña, doesn’t look good on you” You grabbed your drink from his hand, determined to end the conversation, carried your body to the kitchen to grab him one of his own when thankfully the sound of knocking cut off your conversation.

Walked to the door and quickly hugged Connie, you two had gotten along well for the short time you had known her, helped her and Steve settle into the apartment, went grocery shopping together, an occasional mid-day mimosa on weekends when you weren’t working. Steve felt more comfortable when she went out with you, some sense of security with you accompanying her on the streets you all knew to be a war zone.

You all walked outside of the building to wait for a taxi, Connie requesting that DEA talk stayed out for the night while the three of you side eyed each other, and a sense of relief filled you. If there was no office talk Javi couldn’t push the subject you were remiss to discuss. You hoped that was evident throughout the night.

“This is something.” The dance music was loud but she had found a seat far enough away for the empty space they had designated for the dance floor.

When you arrived at the bar there was a big section at the back. Yourself and Connie took a seat in a booth, the place was busy, took Javi and Steve a few minutes to come back with drinks.

Connie glanced over to you from across the booth and used her hand to signal over your dress.

“I’ll see tonight if I get results” Your words were confident as they left your mouth and Connie let out a laugh, intrigued by your new attitude.

Your eyes began to wander around the crowded club, sorting through the men as if you were on a hunt.

Gave her a smile and you talked about your next brunch until the boys came back to the booth with your drinks in hand. Javi handed you your drink and took a seat beside you, muttering a thank you, probably needed to slow down on the drinks. The state you were in was perfect for what you wanted, maintaining was a difficult equilibrium. Steve and Connie were the first to stand, mentioned that they would go and dance, glasses in hand. You were sipping when Javi turned to you, before he could speak you interrupted him

“Oh, I don’t see how you couldn’t get results. I mean, look at you”

and with that your ego inflated.

“You want to dance with me Cariño?”

“No, I don’t want to fucking dance with you, I want you to tell me what’s going on.” Pulled a cigarette out, lighting it and blowing the smoke in your face. You grabbed his pack from the table, having a smoke yourself. “I know you’re stubborn and you have some problem with Carrillo, but you’ve never let it fuck with your work.”

You focused on him, less on his words but on the way you could see droplets of whiskey fresh on his mustache, staring absently at him as he took another drag from his smoke.

“Peña, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“The hell I don’t.”

“No office talk, c’mon cariño, dance with me.” Words came out more as a whine than anything else, put your hand on his thigh and gave him doe eyes.

“Fuck. You’re going to be the death of me.”

One of his hands grabbed your shoulder, the other on your hip and he swayed with you softly, not following the pace of the music until another song came on and his hips thrust into yours. Between this and the amount you had drunk your cheeks were flushed, turned your body around so your ass was pressed to his front. Purposefully not pressing your ass too hard against him with the beat, just enough to cause friction and when you went to look back at him, you couldn’t move an inch. You saw his face mangled in your hair, digging in to your shoulder, looked across the room to see who’s eyes he was meeting and a laugh escaped you. It was a women you saw leaving Peña’s apartment a few times.

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t expect some restraint from him, for him to once again reject your advancement. Instead he slammed his empty glass on the table, hand fell to yours on his thigh and gripped so tight if he held on for too long it would leave a mark, cigarette still held in his mouth as he weaved through people just standing around talking, pulling you to the dance floor.

Your mind was occupied on the smoke in your hand when moving in between other people, didn’t want to burn somebody with the ember. When he threw his cigarette to an ashtray on an occupied table you followed suit, leaving a gentle apology that Peña was too occupied to give.

“Go on” you said, practically having to yell over the music.

You reached up to his hair and tugged lightly twice, telling him to get off of you and you watched him walk over to her, reaching again for a cigarette.

Now you were left to your own devices, glanced quickly checking that the Murphy’s were alright, found them easily, blonde hair sticking out like a sore thumb. Saw them both laughing to themselves, whispering in each other’s ears and you softened. Took a walk over to the bar, wasn’t long after sitting down and ordering a drink that a man sat next to you, as soon as the stool was free. The man was around your height, late 30’s, short strawberry blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard. American.

“Someone who leaves you alone has to be an idiot.” And you nearly scoffed, tried to hold it back to be polite. You watched his head nudge up in Javi’s direction.

“No, we’re just friends.” You confirmed, taking the last of your drink to your mouth.

“So you’re free to dance?” Leaned his elbow against the side of the bar, he rested his face on his hand. “If somebody was interested.”

“That depends.” Open ended words left enough room for him to follow up with something

“On what?” His left eyebrow raised, then he noticed the bartender shuffled over quickly he asked you what you were drinking tonight, you told him, surprised by his forward nature.

“What the somebody who was interested did for a living. As an American in Bogota there isn’t a wide of a field of possibilities, and I like to avoid men who I work with.”

“I work in accounting at the Embassy. I know, very sexy.” And you laughed at this.

There were a few things that you needed to be careful with to avoid a wave of misogyny at work, how you dressed, where your eyes were and, who you fucked. Needed to maintain that professionalism or it could cost you everything. But this? Some average looking man who didn’t even work on the same floor as you, maybe this could work, he seemed interested enough.

“Tom” He introduced himself, extending his hand out to you, you took it in your own.

Spoke your name as your drink was placed in front of you, bartender working of their feet trying to keep up.

After a few minutes of talking you were becoming too touch deprived, missing the comfort of skin pressed against you from dancing with Peña earlier, your fingernails started to stretch up and down Tom's arm, getting stuck on the fabric of his shirt on the upwards graze.

No part of him reminded you of Carrillo, maybe that was what you were looking for tonight, just a moment to forget the man ingrained in your brain. The man who's been taking up too much space in your thoughts over the last month or so, but more the last few days. Just remembering how his hands felt as they gripped your neck made your throat dry, crossed your legs on the poorly constructed bar stool, trying to relieve any pressure you felt as you were reminded of how you touched yourself to the thought of the Colonel's hands that night. Head cocked to the side, biting on your pillow, drool spilling from your lips and you were weak. The last time your legs shook so involuntarily was when you were eleven, learning to ride a skateboard for the first time. It was one of the best orgasms of your life, pang of guilt loomed around like a rain cloud after.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" You interrupted him, didn't matter, you weren't listening anyway.

Excitement replaced the look on his face. You didn't listen to his reply to your question, only saw him nod and felt a quick squeeze to your knee. Wandering around the bar searching for the Murphys , they were sweet together, looked at each other like they were the only ones in the room.

"You safe?" Steve asked as his hand clasped your lower back

"Yeah, Stevie"

"American? What happened to your rule about keeping it out of office?"

You just smiled, placed your hand on his cheek and gave a friendly slap "Never seen him before in my life, think I'm good"

Taking a step to your left you gave Connie a hug, wrapping around her tighter than you did Steve.

"Tell me everything."

"You act like I could get away with not telling you, Connie." As you walked away they both sent a wink your way, and a small wave.

You were steadfast, walking into the direction of the door until you saw Tom waiting you, grabbed your hand as you walked out and insisted to him it was better going to your apartment, you wanted to feel more comfortable. He told you something about how you had to live close to each other anyway, all embassy workers lived in the same vicinity to work for safety reasons. When you got into a cab his hand was again placed on your thighs, tracing small circles just above your knee. When he tried to kiss your neck you weaseled out of it, pressing your shoulder to your jaw.

"Not yet" you whispered

And with that his hand tightened on your leg, an act of defiance if anything. A small huff escaped him and you saw him pout from the corner of your eye, it reminded you of a child who didn't get their way. For a second you thought it was a mistake but when the cab stopped abruptly you pushed the thought out of your mind, at the least you could get some needed human contact from him.

You pulled some cash and handed it to the driver, said a thank you as you walked to your building, didn't check if your company was behind you until you stopped at your front door, looked quickly to Pena's door to see if you could find a light through the crack underneath. There was nothing, he wasn't home yet.

There Tom was, at your side and smiling ear to ear, hands didn't leave you as you entered the apartment and dropped everything on the kitchen bench.

"Do you want a drink?" You asked, tried to break the tension.

Even with the confidence you felt a little uncomfortable with a stranger in your apartment suddenly hyper aware of all of your belongings.

But his hand came to cup your cheek and he leaned in to kiss you, like when you dip your feet in the water to test the temperature. All at once he was all over you, tongue breaking the confides of your lips, a hand palming your ass and the other your breast. A small moan left you on contact, immediately reacting to him. Your hand found his hair and you fumbled for a moment, kissing him back but with not as much rigor as he was. Started to walk him backwards in the direction of your bedroom.

The way his tongue slipped against yours felt like a poor effort, they say you can't have too much of a good thing but this man's tongue in your mouth was too much, too wet, too hard, and when he started to suck on you too harshly your hand in his hair gripped at the nape, pulling him away from you. But as you acted, he reacted. Forced you against the wall next to your bedroom door and for a moment you were lost in it, nearly sobbed at the simple contact of the wall and you let his drenched tongue press into you.

His hands moved to unzip your dress and it fell to the floor, hands all over you again and your eyes closed as he thrust against you. Somehow your eyes clenched tighter when his hand fell to unzip his pants and you wondered if he was going to fuck you, like this, here against the wall and fuck, in no way was any part of him impressive to you. Didn't feel right when his skin touched yours, didn't kiss you how you wanted but the familiar feeling was enough to get you off.

Then he did the worst thing he probably could have done and pulled that thought from your mind "is this your bedroom baby?"

If your eyes were open you were sure they would roll to the back of your head.

"Let’s go to the bed, I'll show you a good time."

Reluctantly you stepped out of your dress, for the first time thankful of the Colombian weather, even more so that you had left your windows open on the way out, feeling the warming breeze on your bare skin. You saw him hold onto his pants to stop them from falling as you walked into the bedroom, let them fall to a puddle on the floor and sat on the edge of your bed.

Using his hands he motioned you over to him, you unleashed your bra and sat on his lap, felt his erection press against you as his hands wound around your waist. You started to grind down on him, pressed against his hardness. But before he could kiss you again you pulled your head down. Surprised both of you when you dropped to your knees in front of him and pulled his boxers down. Hardly looked at him twice before putting his head in your mouth, letting his tip twirl around on your tongue and the moan he let out sounded languid and deep.

Fuck, you loved this. The feeling of a cock in your mouth, heavy weight pressed against your tongue and you both let out a groan when you took as much of him as you could in your mouth. Felt him twitch as he hit the back of your throat and sucked. Your place was slow at first working up so his breathing would become labored, heavy in the thick air. You relished having full control over somebody like this, could do anything you wanted to him in this moment.

"Baby, yeah that's it" his voice broke your thoughts abruptly.

"In Spanish." It was all you said before taking him into your mouth again.

"What?"

"Hermosa, mierda." It wasn't what you were going for, but it would do.

"If you're going to call me something, do it in Spanish." It was a demand for him,

and before you could see his face twist to confusion you looked back down to his cock. Your hand moved to take his balls, lightly groping them before using the angle to suck one of them into your mouth gently, started to work his dick with your hand

Your thoughts clenched beneath him as he laced his fingers through your hair and gripped you, just holding you in place, he didn’t want to move you too much with his ball in your mouth.

"If you keep going I'm going to cum like this"

Started focusing on a specific point but it was just below your clit. Out of pure instinct and nothing else you grinded yourself into his mouth, started to pant loudly for some attempt to put on a show for a man who had no idea what to do with you. Acclimatized to faking orgasms and pleasure with nearly every person you were with but, of course you had to pick up an American, that was probably your first mistake. The next was staying to even with the red flags that he wasn’t good in bed. Should have kissed him at the bar, saved yourself some time. You stayed like that for a while, groaning into the empty silence of the room until you couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t keep playing pretend and your hands found his head, trying to pull him up to where you wanted him. He took this as an invitation to fuck you, climbed up your body and his cock lined up, but your hand pressed to his chest, felt as if you were disarming him of a weapon.

Your hand stilled immediately and you removed yourself from him, pushing him down on the bed but he stopped you, hands found your shoulders and switched your positions so he was on top. Disposed of your underwear quickly then you opened your legs, breath stilling as his tongue started to lick through your folds.

Suddenly you found your breath, confusion pulsed through you and, was he doing this on purpose? Was this some teasing tactic or was he so ignorant?

“Condom.” You said, reached over to your bedside table and threw the packet at him.

“You should go.”

He reluctantly put it on with a drawn out sigh as his hand wrapped around his cock, positioned himself up with you and entered you fully with no hesitation. Your breath hitched and your hands gripped the sheets below you. You felt so full and yet the feeling of him inside of you wasn’t enough, teetering somewhere on the edge of your orgasm. His head rested to the side of yours and the only sounds filling the room were his moans and the slapping of his skin as he continued to fuck you. Too quickly he released into the condom and you could feel him twitching inside of you.

He stayed there, rested on of you for a moment catching his breath.

#horacio carrillo x reader #carrillo x reader #narcos fic #i promised myself i would post this before my Diego one shot so.. here it is

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musings-of-a-rose · 2 years

Note

#18. Frankie or Benny. 100% your choice. Please and thank you 😘♥️

Come Back To Me

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (established relationship/married)

Word Count: 1937

Prompt: (18) “You have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you.”

Rating: M for mature themes. This one is ANGST and does deal with adult problems.

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: I know who this anon is and we discussed things and I can’t decide on Benny or Frankie, so I’m doing BOTH! I'll be adding Benny later this week!

This was for my 100 followers thank you prompts! If you’d like to participate, it’s open until the end of 2021 and I’ll link it here!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

He was back. He came back. You wanted to be mad at him, wanted to scream and yell, wanted to tell him how terrified and angry you were for him leaving you alone with a new baby. But the second you saw Frankie step off the tram that brought him from his flight, any animosity you held was shoved aside. You could see the despair, the regret, the guilt in every crease of his face, every step he took, echoed in the movements of the 3 other men that walked out with him.

The three other men. One was missing.

You hugged them all tightly, happy in that moment that they had returned to you. You promised a hot meal and drinks when they were settled and though they smiled and hugged you back, their eyes were full of sorrow.

You took Frankie home, told him your daughter was at your parent’s house, and just breathed in his scent, his presence, him.

Except, it wasn’t him. Not really.

He went through the motions, pouring out his regrets and his apologies as he fucked you into the bed. He showered and ate, sat and watched tv with you cuddled into his side. But he wasn’t him.

You don’t know when it started exactly, but one day you realized that Frankie never fully came back from that trip and he tried to forget his memories at the bottom of any bottle he could get his hands on. It started as one drink daily that turned into 4 that turned into…whenever he passed out. He never slept by you any more, opting to sleep on the couch despite his bad back. You had begged him to take the bed, even offered to sleep in your daughter’s room, but he said he deserved it. Deserved the spasms of pain ripping through his lower back every morning. He stopped holding your daughter, fear and sadness filling his eyes whenever he managed to look at her.

He stopped touching you, no more little touches to your arm, brushing the hair from your face, smacking your ass as you walked by, no more entwining your bodies together. You watched the man you love start to wither away in front of you and no amount of begging, pleading, or intervention seemed to reach him.

Several months after the shell of Frankie arrived back from Colombia, you got a phone call. You knew it harbored bad news as it woke you from a dead sleep at 4am. The nurse was speaking to you through the phone, but you couldn’t hear her past “Your husband has been in an accident.”

“Is he alive?”

“Yes, ma’am. But we need you here as soon as you can.”

You gathered up your daughter and headed to the hospital, not sure what you’re going to walk into. You called Santi on the way, asking him to meet you there and if he would watch your daughter. He arrived when you did and wordlessly took your daughter and loaded her up into his car, giving you a tight hug before he left.

You headed inside, checking in and figuring out where your husband was. You headed down the long white hall, passing door after door, until you finally arrived at Frankie’s. Heading inside, you see him on the bed, hooked to a few monitors and fast asleep. You walk to him and look him over, seeing a cast on his arm and lots of scrapes, cuts, and bruises. Hesitantly, you reach out and hold his hand, rubbing the back of it with your thumb.

The doctor on call walks in and tells you what happened. “He was driving under the influence and ran his car into a tree. Luckily he wasn’t going too fast or he wouldn’t have survived. We’ve pumped his stomach but his blood alcohol level was well over the limit.”

“Was anyone else hurt?”

“No ma’am.”

“Will he wake up?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. We had to sedate him. He should be awake in the morning. You’re welcome to stay here or come back-”

“I’ll stay.”

You pulled a chair over and sat by his side, caressing his hand. Tears fell from your eyes as you realized you had lost him a long time ago.

Several hours later, Frankie wakes up. He sees you and your tear stained face and it takes him a moment to realize where he is. He clutches his head in pain as you explain to him what happened.

“Did I…was anyone else…”

“No, Frankie. Just you.”

He sighs. “Thank God.”

You pull out your phone and text Santi, letting him know Frankie is awake and asking if he could bring your daughter. You and Frankie sit in silence for a while as the medication the nurse brings in for his headache kicks in.

A short while later, Santi walks in holding your daughters’ hand. Frankie looks down at her and doesn’t recognize her.

“Who’s kid is this, Santi?”

Santi exchanges a look with you. “This is your daughter, Fish.”

Frankie screws up his face. “No it isn’t. Our daughter is a baby, only a few months old. This one is walking.”

“Frankie,” you call his name and he turns his head to you slowly, thinking you’ll say this is a joke. “That is our daughter. She turned 1 a few months ago.”

His face drains of color, contorting into a confused expression. “No..no? She’s little. A..a baby..” He gestures, making rocking baby motions.

You meet Santi’s eyes and he nods, leaning down to where your daughter stands clutching his finger. “Come, mija. Let’s let your papá rest.”

Frankie watches them leave, tears threatening to spill from his brown eyes. He stares at the doorway for a few moments before turning to you.

“That wasn’t her really…was it?”

You take out your phone and scroll to the album where her first birthday photos are. None of them have Frankie. You stand next to his bed and hold your phone up, showing him a photo of your daughter standing in front of a themed birthday display - the theme was helicopters.

“She wanted helicopter everything,” you say to him, remembering how cute the dress came out for her.

Frankie stares at your phone and slowly takes it from you, holding it closer to his face as if to find the prank. Like the girl from the photo would spring to life and transform back into the baby he remembered.

“She’s…one?” he whispers to you.

“She is.”

He cries now, regret and self loathing streaming down his face. You want to comfort him, want to gather him in your arms and tell him it’s ok. But you have no clue how to navigate the waters you find yourself in. You’ve felt alone for months, relying on Santi, Benny, and Will to help you cope, despite them each having their own issues. So you let him cry.

A couple days later, Frankie is released from the hospital. The doctor quietly shoves 2 pamphlets in your hands - one for Alcoholics Anonymous and one for Al-Anon. You take them and give the doctor a small smile, tucking them into your bag.

The drive home is silent, Frankie staring out of the window watching the trees rush past. You pull into the garage and head inside, going to the bathroom to gather yourself for a moment. When you think you have a handle on it and won’t cry, you leave the bathroom, surprised to see Frankie sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. He makes no indication that he’s heard or seen you leave the bathroom. You watch him for a moment, his shoulders are slumped, his back rising and falling erratically with the breaths he takes to choke back tears, curls sticking out and stuck to his skin. You watch him and you decide to take one last chance on him, to get him out of himself. Walking around the edge of the bed, you kneel between his legs, taking his hands in yours as you look up at his beautiful face.

“Frankie?” He makes no response and you start rubbing the backs of his hands with your thumbs. “Frankie?” you try again. Finally, his eyes slowly move to find yours. They’re full of remorse, overwhelming guilt, and self hate.

“I missed her birthday. Her first birthday. I missed…everything.”

You sigh. “Yes, you did.”

Tears fall as he looks away from you and you squeeze his hands, tears falling from your own eyes despite your pep talk, your throat feeling tight with repressed emotions threatening to choke you.

“I love you Frankie. I do. Please, you have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you.”

His eyes find yours again, shocked by the words of love you give to him, despite the way he’s treated you.

“I don’t deserve-”

“What about us? Don’t you think our daughter deserves her father? That I deserve a husband? The man I fell in love with?”

His eyes look down again as he nods, taking a shaky breath.

“It’s not too late, Frankie. It’s not. But you have to make the choice to come back to us, to be a family again.”

His chocolate eyes find yours and you swear you can see a glimpse of the man that you fell in love with.

“You’d…you’d still want to be with me? After all I’ve-I’ve done?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why?”

You take his head in your hands and gently, hesitantly, pull him down to you, placing a soft kiss on his lips before pulling back and staring into his eyes.

“Because I still believe in you, Frankie. I still love you. I just need you to want to come back.”

Tears falling, he pulls you into his lap, actually kissing you for the first time in months. He pulls back and puts his forehead to yours. “I want to come back, querida. I love you and our family. I just…I need help.”

You squeeze his hand. “That I can help you find.”

He kisses you again, his hands tentatively brushing your skin with his fingertips and you moan into it, not used to being touched in such a long time. He gently lays you back and hovers over you, hesitant to touch any more of you. You take his hand and place it on your chest, a fire igniting in your eyes that’s echoing the one in his. You spend the rest of the night rediscovering each other and try to figure out how to forge a path forward after being separated but together for so long.

—-

4 years later, Frankie walks his family up to his daughter’s kindergarten class - her first day of school. He watches as she makes friends instantly, giving you each one last hug before she runs back to her new friends. Frankie holds your hand as you walk back to his truck, helping you to get inside before getting in himself. He starts up the truck but sits there for a moment, fumbling with something in his pocket.

“You ok, Frankie?”

He turns to you, tears in his eyes but smiling. “I’m just…happy I didn’t miss this.” He pulls his hand out of his pocket and shows you what he was fumbling with - his 4 year sober coin.

You place your hand on his cheek for a moment. “I am so proud of you, Frankie. So prou- oh!” You take Frankie’s hand and place it on your fast growing belly, little kicks tapping on his hand. “Apparently your son is proud of you too.”

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @astoryisaloveaffair @softpedropascal @marvelousmermaid @icanbeyourjedi @livingmydreams13 @theewokingdead @f0rever15elf @mesmorales @sarahmilesbendrix @swol-bear @mrsudontknowme @lovesbiggerthanpride @gallowsjoker @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @sunnshineeexoxo @sara-alonso @giggly-otter @dirtytissuebox @diaryofkali @adventures-of-a-noodle @punkerthanpascal @phandoz

Pedro Characters Only Taglist:

@beskarprincessjenny @jediknight122 @mishasminion360 @littlemisspascal @kirsteng42 @tanzthompson @fastandfeminist @lowlights

Frankie Morales Taglist:

@rebel-fanfare @hnt-escape @corrabell @callsigncatfish@khiraeth@blueeyesatnight @anaaaispunk

All Prompts/Ficlets Taglist:

@itspdameronthings

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco catfish morales

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maryofone · 6 years

Text

The Dress

Intuition is an interesting concept. The idea that we have some level of consciousness underneath our conscious level of consciousness is fascinating to me. It’s like we go through every day thinking endless amounts of thoughts and musings and wonderings and worryings, and our intuition doesn’t pipe up for much of it. Anytime we try to call on our intuition in the moment or make a point of listening to our gut, we can’t be sure we can hear it. It’s like our intuition is working behind the scenes most of the time, watching our lives closely, never stepping in until it really has to. We can’t always detect our intuition in the moment but we can often spot its handy work in hindsight. I had one such reflection not long ago and it all has to do with a dress I bought 4,000 km from home.

A little while ago I went on vacation with my four closest friends to Colombia. One of said friends is from Colombia and wanted to take us on a tour of his home country. I was the fifth wheel of the group and felt more than fine with that because a) I’m always the fifth wheel in our group; and b) I had a fella back in Toronto with whom things were getting pretty serious, so even though I was without him on the trip, daydreaming about him while overlooking the Andes had me feeling pretty fucking tickled.

About a week into the trip we made it to Medellin, and settled into our fancy loft BnB with a rooftop terrace overlooking the city. The neighbourhood was young and stylish and friendly and there were art galleries and romantic outdoor bars everywhere, and a little hood of boutiques full of handmade Colombian dresses that my girlfriend and I dove into almost immediately upon arrival. I’m not usually a huge shopper but these dresses were worth anyone’s attention. We ended up in this one shop where I found this particularly gorgeous, white-lace, fitted bohemian number with flared sleeves. I tried it on and it felt like it was made for me. The woman who owned the shop made every dress in the store and even though she was probably just trying to make a sale, she gave a pretty convincing reaction to what I looked like in it. Evidently I was doing the dress quite a bit of justice so she was really happy when I bought it.

When I saw the dress, when I tried on the dress, when I bought the dress, all I could think about was how much that fella back in Toronto was going to like it. It was definitely a bonerific garment, and I couldn’t wait to get back to the city and find an excuse to wear it in his presence. Luckily Valentine’s Day was right around the corner.

I’ve learned to expect nothing from Valentine’s Day so imagine my surprise when this guy and I actually made bona fide date plans for the day. To be clear, I brought it up. We were drunk at a bar one night and our conversation was feeling pretty cozy, so I casually/not casually brought up how I would love to actually do something for Valentine’s Day; nothing crazy, just have dinner or something. Before he even got a word in I started to overexplain how I’ve always wanted to have a proper Valentine’s date and I’ve never had one and I know it’s stupid and blah blah blah… then in uncharacteristically sweet fashion, he said, “You’re allowed to care about Valentine’s Day. Of course we can go on a date.” It was literally one of the sweetest things he’d said to me in the six months I’d known him (if that tells you anything). But then the chivalry came to quick stop.

“But you know I have no money, so you’d have to pay.”

There it is. And fine! We had totally different salaries, and I’d already made a habit of covering the cheque on most occasions. So what’s another one? And then of course he wasn’t that interested in picking the restaurant so he left that to me too. Okay, fine. At least I was getting a date on Valentine’s Day.

A couple of weeks later, things were still going well between us (a bit of a surprise given the myriad issues we’d sporadically suffered throughout our courtship), so I’d made the reservation at that cute little French restaurant on Queen. And of course I’d tried the dress on a few more times than necessary, and was really just counting down the days to wear this beautiful piece of clothing with my beautiful new boyfriend whom I’d just made things official with. And then something weird happened.

I canceled the reservation. Everything had been going great, Valentine’s Day was just two or three days away, and I called up the restaurant and canceled. I texted him and said that money was actually tighter than I thought at the moment, and I really couldn’t swing a fancy dinner for two, so we should just hang at my place instead. He seemed characteristically indifferent and so we didn’t discuss it again.

Meanwhile, in my mind, I was trying to figure out why the fuck I just canceled my chance to have a romantic Valentine’s date in this unspeakably beautiful dress. I consulted my intuition and the only thing it would tell me was that it wasn’t the right time for the dress. What the fuck? How could it not be the right time? Valentine’s Day? French restaurant? Hot date? How was this not the time for the dress? I couldn’t understand why my gut was telling me not to waste the dress on that date. But I still listened to it. Because it sounded fuckin serious: Don’t. Wear. It. Yet.

Fast-forward a long-ass time and now that impossibly stunning dress has been hanging in my closet for almost two years, without ever being worn a single time. A one-of-a-kind dress, made by one woman, bought by one woman, just sitting in the back of my closet, waiting. And I have to give it to my gut here. Looking back on how horribly that relationship ended, it’s pretty obvious that he did not deserve to see me in that dress. He didn’t deserve to see me in any capacity, and I find it so interesting that it was the dress that my intuition couldn’t ignore. There was just no way my gut was going to let me waste that dress on him.

What’s even cooler about this little moment of intuition is that it was two-fold. One part of my gut was telling me not to waste the dress on someone who didn’t deserve it, and the other part was telling me that there’s someone else out there who does.

#thoughts #Post

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starboyjxmin · 7 years

Text

Meet Me in the Hallway (Jeongguk AU)

Synopsis: “Just let me know I'll be at the door, at the door Hoping you'll come around Just let me know I'll be on the floor, on the floor Maybe we'll work it out,”// Harry Styles

Warnings: Angst, Smut, a bit of Fluff

Genre: Drabble, (BTS X Harry Styles’ self-titled album)

Word Count: 6,855

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

This was an absurd idea, the silliest he had in a while. He knew better than to help the woman who had entered into the hotel with her over-the-top fur coat and the silver thin designer dress with milky pearls adorning her neck and the very large diamond ring on her left hand. She had come into the Aria, alone with a bellhop who was pushing three carts filled with Louis Vuitton luggage. But the woman had looked distressed and despite him being a bus boy, he took the remaining two carts and helped his fellow co-worker and the woman who smiled at him.

“My name is (Y/N), what’s yours honey?” She had a voice like money and when he had told her that his name was Jungkook, she laughed like God. He was in such awe with this beautiful and glamorous woman.

“This is my room. Just leave it here, please. Do I have to tip you?” Before any of the boys could say anything, (Y/N) took out a wad of cash from her flowery designed wallet, giving half to each other boys who were absolute awe. “I hope that’s enough.”

The whole day, Jungkook felt the pocket of his slacks heavy. Heavy with the money of the exotic woman who held this aura of sophistication as she walked and spoke. By the time it was night, he had forgotten all about the mysterious woman.

“Go clean table 17. Make it fast.” Jungkook nodded at his manager as he began to walk with his half-full of dirty plates and cups cart mindlessly to the booth that was a bit secluded. He had enough money to send to his parts, he began to think as he maneuvered through tables and waiters, and he had enough money to pay his rent this month finally on time. All he needed was a bit more for his food and it would be a great month for him.

“Listen to me, (Y/N),” (Y/N), that was the name of the sun-kissed woman who had given him a hefty tip earlier that day. Jungkook was a few feet away when he realized that table 17 was the one with you and a man who seemed to have been growing more furious by the second. “if you think that you can throw another one of your fucking tantrums to me about how fucking selfish you think I am for bringing you to my fucking business trip which let me fucking remind you,” You flinched at your husband’s sharp tone and grew red as you realized how Drew was probably causing a scene. “that it was you who always cried about how I never took you out and I spent my said business trips just whoring around! So the least that you can do is shut the fuck up with your whining and keep that pretty mouth fucking shut!” Now you were aware that the whole restaurant had grown quiet as they turned to see what was the problem. “You are my wife, you are meant to look good on my arm, not talk or tell me how you think that I am going about my meetings the wrong way!” Drew stood up, knocking his chair back. All you could do was just stare at him in terror.

“Drew, love-” You gave him a warning look as if saying, “You are embarrassing me.” but was cut off short.

“If it weren’t for me, you would have been prostituting yourself on the streets of your beloved Colombia and killed yourself years ago from an overdose.” He didn’t hold back. Why would he? You had made him look like a fool at his meeting today by outsmarting him about the ways to advertise and manage sells. How was he suppose to have the respect of his employees when his wife, a woman and not to mention, a foreigner, thought it was okay to speak when not given permission and to make suggestions for him and towards his company.

Jungkook didn’t know what to do. He just watched as your said husband just publicly humiliated you and then went on to insult you by pretty much saying that he had saved you from a horrible what if as well as insulting your country. If he was being honest, Jungkook felt really bad. But he was the help. He couldn’t do anything. So he was forced to watch as your husband threw his stained napkin at your face before walking out, huffing and muttering things under his breath. The man did appear to be older than you but not by that much so it was insane to him just how your husband really thought it was okay for him to treat you so badly.

You felt like just crying. There was no other emotion in you but sadness. The whole restaurant had turned back to their business as if nothing at happened. No one stopped Drew, no one gave you at least a sympathetic look. But what were you to actually expect? It wasn’t like you deserved any form of sorriness since it was you that married the dick bag. You sighed, covering your face with your hand, much like you did after every fight the two of you had because it made you feel invisible, small, and safe.

“I’m sorry but-” A tenor, accented voice with soft hints brought you back to your reality. “can I clear some off the table?” You sighed, closing your eyes as you brought your hands down to your lap, trying to keep the last ounce of safety in.

“Yes. I’m-” You opened your eyes to find the same doe eyed boy with the bunny like appearance who had helped the bellhop bring up all your luggage to your hotel room. As you looked at him with now time and more close up, he was a beautiful boy. His rather big, yet subtle scar on his cheek didn’t seem to give him a mysterious or scary look if anything he looked more endearing. “-I’m sorry for the scene-” You shook your head confused. “the scene my hu-husband made.” Jungkook simply gave you an apathetic look which quickly reminded you that no one cared, nor will anyone ever.

But he smiled at you, brightly as his eyes caught the yellowish lighting of the restaurant as his eyes held a gleam and stars in them.

“It’s quite alright, ma’am.” The boy began to reach for your sloppy husband’s silverware, plate, and flute and you couldn’t help but notice the veins that came into sight on his tanned arms. His fingers were long and ridged with veins as well.

“How old are you?” Junngkook quickly turned to you. You were a very, very breathtaking woman. There was no denying it. Your husband was a blind fool for not noticing it with the way he treated you. If Jungkook had a wife like you who took her time to straighten her black, cascading hair, did her makeup and applied lashes as well as a blinding light that bounced off your cheekbones, not to mention how you were dressed. He could tell you took your time to dress with the beautiful olive nude dress that seemed to be flowy and soft if he were to rub the material in his fingers. You were showing cleavage too, a little bit of a kind view for him.

“I’m 19.” He hoped that you hadn’t noticed the quick swept he just did of your appearance. He quickly went back to clearing your plates although he didn’t ask you for permission. “Oh!” Jungkook nervously looked at you.

“It’s okay.” You grabbed your flute, placing it in his hand. “My, you’re so young.”

He nodded, looking away from you. If his manager was watching, he was sure to scowl Jungkook about not interacting with the guest because it was unprofessional of him. So he kept his head as he finished loading his cart and quickly muttered a “Have a good night.” to you before pushing his cart towards the doors of the kitchen.

A stupid idea. He couldn’t stop his stupid idea though. Jungkook held a ripped corner of a paper in his fist tightly, sweating profusely as he pressed your floor number into the elevator. Given that he hadn’t spoken to you regarding the tantrum you husband had thrown at dinner and rather much had eyed you the whole time instead of extending words of comfort to you, he quickly wrote you a note. It was a stupid plan. Jungkook nervously looked at the illuminated numbers that signaled him getting nearer and nearer to your floor as his stomach turned.

What if your husband was there? The thought made his blood run cold. He hadn’t actually thought this through at all.

Ding!

“I’m fucked.” He stepped out into the empty hall. It was empty considering it was 11 P.M. which meant that since the restaurant at ground level had closed, everyone had flocked to the casino or been about the lively night city given him the freedom to go and do this since he had no other duties for the night. Jungkook began to walk down the hallway, looking at the numbers on the doors until he saw yours. “I’m fucked.” He slipped the note down from under the small crack underneath the door. Now what? Were you to just randomly stumble across it?

“Mamá, no.” Jungkook heard as you spoke from behind the door, your voice getting louder as you approached. Well, what he could do was tap on the bottom of the door and make a run for it but that would make him very childish and by the look on your voice when he told you his age, you looked at him like as if he were a child and not a man. But what was there to lose?

There was a knock on the bottom of your hotel room which startled you. Why was it from the bottom? As soon as you looked down, there was a note that seemed to have been pushed in from under the door.

“Espéreme mamá.” Your mom stopped her rant about how you should have left Drew the first day he laid a hand on you. You bent over, picked up the small note and examined the writing which was neat but you could tell was hurried.

“I know that guests shouldn’t mix with the help but I just wanted to let you know that you a wonderful, beautiful, strong, and not to mention very classy woman for not stooping down to his level. Instead, you were level headed and stayed in control. I;m sorry your husband views for you are so low. I hope you know that I don’t think such things about you. If you ever need an ear or a shoulder, I’m here :) -Jungkook” It was a lot of writing considering the small piece of paper. Would this mean he was still outside?

“Mammi, la puedo llamar mañana?” But you had hung up absent minded before your mother could say anything to you. There was no thinking process in you as you opened the door.

Jungkook indeed was standing there but he seemed terrified beyond his wits as soon as he saw that it was too late for him to run away because you had caught him.

“I-” He paused. What a stupid idea. He began to bite his lower lip. You were going to get him fired, he knew it. But as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, you grasped onto the front of the collar of his white t-shirt and pulled him.

“We can’t be seen in the hallways-” You closed the door behind him fast and quickly locked it. “sorry.” He felt dumbfounded when you gave him a beautiful white smile.

“Um- is your h-h-usband h-here?” If you had looked at him before, down at the restaurant as a child as soon as he had told you his age was 19, you were giving him a look as if you were his mom.

“No.” Jungkook felt compelled to look at you properly instead of shyly looking down at the floor, seeing your carefully cared for feet and the matte black nails along with the fact that you were still wearing heels despite leaving the restaurant 3 hours prior. He looked up slowly, taking in that you were still wearing the silky, thin material dress that reminded him of a runaway. His finger itched to feel the material, to rub it between his pointer finger and thumb. “Thank you for the note.” He quickly looked up.

You gave no impression of noticing how the boy in front of you kept looking at you up and down.

“You’re welcome.” There was an awkward impregnated silence between the two of you.

“Sorry, how rude of me. Come sit, anything to drink?” It was then that he noticed that your hotel room was actually one of the nice ones. You had turned to the kitchen and all Jungkook could see was the way the heels helped you add a little more sway to your hips and the hugging dress didn’t help him much as he admired the curves and how your ass was plump as your lips.

Jungkook quickly shook his head, looking back down as he sat on the couch that was near the entrance of the hotel suite. This was wrong. You were much older than him. Not only that, his mom kept nagging him about finding himself a nice Korean girl. Dating outside of his race wasn't exactly celebrated as it was with most cultures, he was sure. But it was bad enough that he found beauty in the complete opposite of the beauty standard of his country. He found your dark skin enticing, your thick lips something he kissed he could taste, and your curve, fuller body a temple. No one ever spoke about the beauty the world had to offer, just to keep to your own. He didn’t want to fetishize you at all but he couldn’t help but wonder what if he had brought you home to his traditional Korean family. Jungkook was sure he wouldn’t have cared for the judgment but it was as soon that you returned with a can of Coke, handing it to him with your left hand that he saw the large diamond ring adorning your ring finger, a concrete reminder to him that you were married.

“Thank you.” You sat next to him, watching him contently as he opened the drink with a bit of a shaking in his hands and soon took a quick sip.

“Tell me about yourself, Kookie. May I call you that?” He gave you a tight nod.

“Y-yes. Um... I work here for the hotel’s restaurant as a bus boy.”

“You’re not from here, are you?” He shook his head.

“No, ma'am.” You laughed as you placed a manicured hand on his arm.

“Dear, call me (Y/N). Ma’am reminds me of how much older I am to you, 3 years more of an age gap and I could have been your mom!” You gave him a tight squeeze as you laughed. Jungkook longed for your touch to be more.

“Really? But you look young.” You covered your smile with the hand that was on his arm, making him miss the contact.

“I’m 28.” He quickly did the math.

“So if I were 22,” He paused as he watched you give him a warm look. “and you were still 28... You would have been 12 when you would have me?” He felt a bit disgusted to think of you at all as his mom.

“Mhm, quite a bit of my cousins stared at that age. It’s a bit different from here, no?” You waited for his response, expecting him to say something rude.

“Everywhere is different, I’m sure. In my country, we wait until we are well established in our careers to even consider dating.” He let out a deep chuckle.

“Where are you from, Kookie?”

“South Korea.”

“What brought you here?”

“I thought I could become a well-established singer or at least a dancer if I came here.” You placed your hand on his shoulder, giving him a small shake of encouragement.

“Are you taking classes?” He nodded before turning to you. God, your eyes were dark and rich. The whole atmosphere had changed. If Jungkook wasn’t a good, decent kid, he would have come only to fuck you from the beginning. But he wasn’t some douche. You noticed that from the start. The boy was as sweet as he was shy.

Jungkook was taken aback by your sudden gesture which was how you caressed his face with your very married hand.

“You’re very beautiful.” He couldn’t help but breathe out a compliment. Your eyes grew soft.

“It’s been so long since anyone has said that to me.” You whispered.

Jungkook brought his hand over your thin, elegant hand that was on his cheek and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingertips one by one. You felt a sudden wave of arousal and heat wash over your stomach and lower regions.

“You should be told every day.” The painful memory of how your husband treated was suddenly brought to mind, reminding yourself that even Jungkook was there to witness it. He probably thought you were a fool to put up with Drew but you remembered his notes and how he called classy for not adding to the scene. Not useless, not weak, not what Drew thought you as or how your mom would describe you every time you let your husband just ride out his tantrums instead of fighting back with him.

“Then tell me.” You immediately pulled his face towards you, meeting his rather thin lips, overpowering him with your thick, plump ones. Jungkook moaned into the kiss, feeling just how soft and sweet your lips were and how they seemed to kiss his whole mouth. His hands found their way to the hem of your dress, feeling the rich silk velour fabric between his fingertips as his skin grazed your knees.

You turned a bit, kissing the outer corner of his lips as your own hands began to tug at his shirt.

“Hold on.” He painfully removed his hands from you and proceeded to take off his shirt, seeing your dilated pupils and swollen lips as well as a blush that covered the apples of your contoured cheeks. “Come.” You quickly sat on his lap, kissing his chin and trailing your hot lips down his neck.

Jungkook’s eyes closed as they began to roll back at the intense pleasure he was feeling and how you began to suck sweetly on his neck, sending the shocks into his cock that began to stir.

“You are so pretty, Kookie when you breathe so hard with your eyes closed for me.” The whispered words added to the fueled arousal he felt. You went back to sucking the thin skin of his neck, sure you were leaving marks on him.

“C-Can I touch you?” You paused for a bit, startled that he was asking you for permission. No one ever did. You didn’t think anyone had to ask for permission because people had always just done their way with you, regardless if you were okay with it or not. That’s how you were conditioned from a young age by the opposite gender. Drew had told you many times he didn’t have to care for anything like that because you were his wife. There was no need to.

But here you had a young man, breathing hard, whimpering from under you with intense pleasure surely blinding him but yet, he asked for your permission. He was putting you first. You blinked back tears.

“Yes, Kookie.” The boy quickly pushed the hem of your dress up, having you sit up with your arms around his neck for support as you sat on his thigh again but this time. with bare thighs and the thin lace of panties being the barrier between his muscular skin and your soaking core.

He pressed a chaste kiss into your jaw, hugged you by the waist as he tried to even his breath despite his angry erection that was hurting him as it was caught in his tight jeans.

“You deserve to be treated like the Goddess that you are,” His husky, low voice caused the tears that you were holding back to come out without your notice.

You kissed his head, wishing more than anything in the world that you weren’t married, that you had met Jungkook before as a single woman. You wished you were younger, more appealing to him, you wanted more than nothing to love this boy forever. To protect him with your whole life.

Jungkook felt the same way as he felt the love in your kiss. Had he been older, wiser, better, this could have been possible.

Maybe it still was.

“Touch me, please.” He didn’t need to be told twice.

Jungkook had never realized just how sexual taking clothes off was before.

His rough large hands carefully slipped the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders, watching as the nude silk dress came down, revealing your nudity.

He found your skin tone the best nude.

You moved up a bit, arms still around his neck as he moved the dress carefully from under you until it pooled near his feet, showing that you were free.

If only you really were.

You let him take off your bra, pressing yourself into him as he undid it with one hand, two fingers under and it came off fast.

“You must really be good with your fingers.” You realized how dirty that sounded, immediately feeling embarrassed but Jungkook’s dark eyes shone with lust and love as his other hand was pressed into the middle of your back as if you were a doll.

“Let’s find out.” Before you could think anything, the hand that had undone your bra was plunged into your panties, rubbing your clit between his fingers.

“Oh carajo!” You cursed in Spanish as you felt the tension in your body become stronger. Jungkook rubbed your button with the pad of his middle finger as he began to kiss your chest. You felt him move his finger now to your leaking hole, spreading the warm liquid around your lips teasingly.

“You’re so wet, mommy.” You could have sworn you felt tears forming behind your eyes from the painful pleasure he was bringing you along with what he had just called you.

“Mammi, call me m-” He dipped his finger into you, causing you to contract your walls around his thick finger with need. “-mammi.” Jungkook let out a deep chuckle as he began to finger fuck you, curling his finger into you, reaching up into your g-spot as his large palm was pressed roughly against your clit.

“Look at you,” He whispered into your ear, his hand pushing your chest into him as his hand pressed into the back as his other hand was brutally pumping now two fingers into you, hitting your g-spot while you rubbed yourself against his palm, relinquishing at the feeling of how he felt on your clit and instead of you. “Fucking yourself with my hand, God imagine how you must look on my dick, mammi?” Tears began to roll down your face, choking on wet sobs.

It was then that you felt your climax reaching you, Jungkook pulled his fingers out of you.

A mewled whimper escaped you.

“Please.” Just then, you started to rock yourself against his thigh, feeling his hard muscles from underneath you.

“씨발,” Jungkook leaned back cockily as he watched you fuck yourself against his thigh while he slipped his two heavily coated fingers into his mouth, sucking the sweet nectar of your being. “Let me make it easier for you, little one.” You felt a pang in your heart as he referred to you so sweetly. He sat up, lifting you by your hips and gently sat you beside himself. It was then that you noticed just how strong this kid was. He had been moving you around like a doll, with no weight this whole time. You watched as he unbuttoned his jeans, his biceps were very prominent. He didn’t look muscular to you before but having him here shirtless made you realize that he was indeed very defined.

Jungkook moved up as he began to pull down his jeans to his knees before kicking them off. That was when you noticed something surprisingly big in his briefs.

“Thanks.” You whispered causing the boy to turn to you with a cute bunny, reminding you of a sweet bunny. Involuntarily, you brought a hand to his cheek, giving him a sweet rub of your thumb as you felt the soft skin of his face and how it felt when he smiled. You wanted to stay like this, to always remember how his skin felt.

“Alright, come now.” He picked you up against and placed you on his lap, making you feel like it was you that was the young child here playing with fire instead of it being him. Jungkook contracted the muscles of his thighs, causing you to moan loudly all over again. You felt your eyes roll back as his sultry voice began to speak in Korean like he did the first time when you started to ride his thigh. The hard ridges of his thighs felt amazing against your clit but you were clenching around nothing, wishing he was there with you.

“Please baby, touch me.” Your whimpering voice and the way you were begging him with a slight pout of your lips made him reach for your panties as he saw how your blown out pupils were begging him to help you.

“You’re worth everything.” He pressed a kiss your temple as the sound of ripping fabric tore through the room.

“Kookie!” You looked down to see that he had ripped your laced panties with a smirk.

“Do you really want this?” The sexy, experienced man disappeared, being replaced by the timid young boy who had slipped you the very heartwarming note. You brushed his bangs away from his face and leaned in, kissing his nose.

“I do.”

Jungkook pulled down the band of his briefs, wincing as the air hit his over sensitive head from being horny for a while but he wanted to give you as much attention as you needed.

“Mammi,” You felt yourself become wetter as you heard how he said mammi with his accent and in Spanish. “Please,” He began to whimper as he held his cock from the shaft. “Fuck me.”

You moved up, supporting yourself by having your knees on the outside of either side of his slumped down hips as he lazily sat there on the couch, and grabbed his dick in your hands which caused him to whine loudly. He moved a bit, causing his hips to move up, making his head hit against the inside of your thigh.

“Patience, baby boy.” You aligned him to your entrance and began to slowly sink down onto his hard dick. Jungkook moaned loudly at the feeling of you, forgetting anything about protection since he had planned to return to his apartment instead of actually sticking around to see what was the outcome of his notes. “You make such pretty sounds, baby.” He nodded fast as his breathing increased as well as his heart rate, causing his blood to pulse with an urgency which made him twitch inside of you.

“P- move, mammi.” He whimpered shyly as you started to slowly move your hips. Jungkook looked beyond attractive with his head kick back, resting on the couch as his hands were gripping your hips, helping you bounce on his dick and the way his mouth opened with the most erotic sounds you had ever heard.

“You’re so thick, you fill me so nicely my bunny.” Jungkook felt like he was going to burst at any moment. “Want mommy to choke you?” Your accented sultry voice whispered darkly into his ear before nibbling on his earlobe as he felt just how warm and wet you were all around him.

“Please,” He whined like a child.

“So eager to please,” You placed a thin, delicate hand around his veiny neck and squeezed his throat slightly to test his reaction, just where his common carotid artery was. You watched as Jungkook’s eyes began to get heavy with lust as you stopped his oxygenated blood flow from getting to his brain and carefully squeezed his dick at the same time with your walls. “Baby.” You let go of your pressure, watching his breathing increase far more than before.

“God, woman.” He felt this wonderful rush of euphoria as his blood rushed to his head and how you were clenching around him, causing him to moan your name louder than ever. “Please fuck me, I want to cum with you on top.” He pressed his face into your neck, whining as you started to ride him harder than before. Your hand was around his neck as the sound of your ass hit his hard thighs, surely leaving you with bruises on your ass.

“Kookie,” You cooed at your lover as he continued to mewl. “My bunny, keep making pretty noises.” He caught one of your nipples in his mouth, biting it firmly causing you to roll your hips and arch your back with his hand now on your back, pushing your chest into his face as you rose him passionately.

His other hand slipped down between your thighs, rubbing your clit with his fingers mercilessly as he started to suck on the soft numbs of your breasts, breathing your skin in.

You felt the familiar tension rise between your hips as Jungkook started to meet your hips with his own, fucking you with a rage.

“I’m c-close.” He moaned into a breast.

“Baby boy, cum with me.” You struggled to choke the words out as tears rolled down your face by the second. Jungkook growled, smacking your clit hard with his fingers leaving you to finally break from on top of him and screaming his name. He himself found his release when he heard your scream and saw you weeping, releasing his warm seed deep inside you, all over your walls as his cock twitch inside of you.

He rode his high out with you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist with his head in your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

“I love you.” You kept your eyes closed at his confession. In response, you simply ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp tenderly as you closed your mouth, breathing through your nose and out your mouth slightly to not give away how hat made you uneasy.

“We have to wash you, baby.” He nodded into your shoulder, kissing it sweetly as he grew soft inside of you. You stood up, letting him slip out. “Come, baby.” You teasingly said to which he faintly gave you a big smile.

How was it that he had arrived at his apartment?

Jungkook looked around the badly shaped complex with glazed over eyes. He saw his apartment number, walking towards the stairs.

He had told you he loved you. But you didn’t answer him. You simply walked him to the huge bath in your hotel room with jet streams, helping him in given that his embarrassing legs were still shaky from the out-of-life experience of sex he had with you. But you didn’t get in.

Jungkook bit his lip as he reached into his sweater for the key of his apartment.

You had bathed him in a warm soak of what seemed like tea leaves and flowers as the water was a translucent lilac. Hell, you had even washed his hair with your expensive, floral scented shampoo and conditioner and lather his body with a clay like soap bar that smelled of passion fruit. But you didn’t get in.

He locked the door behind himself as he walked towards his room, ignoring his messy living room and a mess of a kitchen, wishing he had morphine to numb everything.

It hurt.

It fucking hurt.

“Hey, Jungkook.” Jungkook snapped out of his zombie like trans as he saw his manager in front of him, calling him over.

His nightly shift didn’t start until 3 P.M. which wasn’t nightly but it was dinner time for some reason until 11 at night.

“Yes, sir?” He walked over to his manager who held an envelope in his hands.

“A guest handed me this.” Oh shit. “Addressed to you.” His manager raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. But Jungkook kept his eyes on the letter. “We have spoken about this before.” He felt numb. “The help cannot mix with guests.” There went his job. “But given that she did say that it was from your mom and she knew your mother, I’ll let this one slide because the guest happens to have some sort of family ties with you.” Just as his manager was going to give him the card, the man patted it into Jungkook’s shoulder as he began to walk away with Jungkook placing a hand over the letter to prevent it from falling. “Also, cover up the hickeys. It’s unprofessional.” His heart skipped a beat.

The letter had his name neatly written on it in cursive.

He couldn’t open it here, it was far too risky if anyone saw what the letter could have said. He knew deep down it was your written apology for the previous night, probably calling it a mistake and that you hoped he understood. Jungkook felt his eyes well up as he walked towards the nearest men’s bathroom and locked himself in a stall, leaning into the wall to read it.

“Dearest Jungkook, thank you so much for last night and being my support as well as comforting me with your words in the note you slid under my door last night.It was very sweet of you to do such a selfless thing. I just wanted to say to you, I have thought it through. I’m going to divorce Drew and leave him. He has treated me like shit for 13 years of our marriage. He has always just seen me as an exotic object, a great fetish in his possession, his best trophy really that must ‘behave’. But last night, you treated me as a person. I was a human being, to you, I was a woman who was important. I felt it in your touch and with the way, you looked at me. I feel like a teenager again, but I want to run away with you. He took me from my home at the age of 15 when I was naive and stupid. You are the complete opposite of me so I hope that you, in the end, do what’s best for you. Divorcing him will make him give me half of everything as he is extremely rich so you wouldn’t have to ever worry about your dreams again, baby. You made me realize that I was worthy and you became my anchor last night. Thank you, come to my hotel room as soon as you get this. Yours, (Y/N)”

He couldn’t believe it. You were going to leave your husband. You were going to be with him. Jungkook didn’t think it was possible, much less that such a blessed thing would ever happen to him. He had to get to you.

Everything was a faded blur to him as he stumbled his way off the elevator and into your floor. The pain he felt last night was gone. All he felt was as if he had flowers growing between his ribs.

He reached into his pocket for his little notebook and pen he had to carry for work and quickly scribbled with a shaking hand, “I’m here.” He slipped it under the door and left a knock on the lower section of the door, hoping you would notice like last night.

Jungkook had been waiting for 5 full eternal minutes. He quickly wrote another note saying, “I’m going to be at the door, waiting.” He flipped it over adding, “I’ll be on the floor.” He had told you during the bath how the staff called the employee lounge “The Door” like it was some terror room. You had laughed at him and called him cute. Jungkook decided to make his way to the lounge, turning from away your door.

“Jungkook?” The same bellhop that had pushed your luggage yesterday morning approached him.

“Hey man.” He gave his co-worker a puzzled smile.

“Did you come to get her stuff?”

“Whose stuff?”

“Miss Ford?” His co-work pointed at your door. “She checked out a while ago actually.” This wasn’t true. “Her husband had booked the whole week but had to cancel due to her wanting to go home but he seemed confused as to why she wanted to leave at all.”

Jungkook felt a sudden heavy pressure surround his skull as he began to hear dull, loud ringing in his ears as he felt his body on fire.

You had left him.

You lied.

It had been 3 months since the incident. Jungkook didn’t know what to think. He was motionless, just a robot bus boy as the staff whispered whenever he passes by. He had let his guard down and hard. What did he expect? That you would actually leave your husband who you had been married to for a while, had money, gave you what you deserved at the end of the day even if he did treat you like shit, and wasn’t younger than you? Had you stayed with Jungkook, what could he have offered you? His shitty run-down apartment and his measly salary? Who was he kidding? That would have been no life for you especially with a 19-year-old.

So all he did, was stare at the wall until he had to go to work and come back dragging himself home just to sleep. And when he had classes, he put his anger into it, making him top of his classes. He was naive.

Jungkook got home after a rather long shift since his manager decided to give him more hours and found that he had stepped on a letter that was on the floor of his living room, near the door as if someone had slid it under. It didn’t have who it was from or who it was directed to. He sat on his couch, deciding to just open the damn thing.

“Dearest Jungkook,” He couldn’t believe it. Your beautiful cursive words seemed to have been kissing his name. He brought the letter to his nose, breathing it in. It smelled just like you. “I just wanted to tell you that I did mean to divorce Drew. The reason why I had to leave without giving you a proper explanation was because he saw the bruises from our night. He became enraged and threaten to kill me along with himself if I ever dared to leave. He also said he would report you since he found the note between the cushions of the couch and you had signed your name.” Jungkook felt a tear roll down his cheek but quickly wiped it away as he gripped the letter. “I should have left with you that night. I didn’t care that you were young or made less money. You cared for me. You were home. But now I realize how selfish I was being by thinking that I could have just stayed with you because I would have been a very heavy burden to you.” No, you would have never been. “You have a whole life ahead of you, baby.” He felt a deep pain his chest as if a hole was forming in his heart. “I’m far too old. One day, you’ll meet a young pretty girl who knows her value so she will never make you doubt yours.” The pain grew black. “It will be beautiful to fall in love with someone who is for you, Kookie.” A sob tore through his being and the silence of his living room. “I’m sorry you had to meet me and I’m sorry for not being responsible enough to stop us. Yours always, (Y/N)”

He stared at the letter for a long time. He couldn’t think. He realized that he had been looking at your writing a lot longer because his vision began to blur. Why? Jungkook brought a hand to rub his eyes only to find that he was crying.

He had broken his own heart by letting your beauty seduce him.

“What now?” He spoke out loud.

Ford. Your last name was Ford. He knew your husband’s name and that he was a rich company owner.

This was an absurd idea, the silliest he had in a while.

149 notes · View notes

xwing-baby · 3 years

Text

Impulse: Aberration (Javier Peña x Reader)

Warnings: 18+ SMUT!!! Details of torture, description of injury, blood, murder, discussions of death, alcohol, penetrative sex, hurt/comfort, Javi has one one to deal with big emotions and thats it.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Aberration: a departure from what is normal, usual, or expected, typically an unwelcome one.

<-- Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter -->

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Everything had felt off about this raid since the beginning. You had put the feeling down to nerves, it would be the first raid you were involved in that was outside the city limits, four hours outside the city into the jungle. A friend of Javier’s had gone missing a week ago, her ties to the cartels meant her abduction was important. As soon as a call came in mentioning her name and a possible location, Carrillo and Peña were immediately on it despite hesitation from you and Murphy. You never trusted calls from anonymous callers, especially ones calling a group of police into the jungle where nobody could find their bodies were it to go south.

You went along, not wanting to miss out on a trip into the jungle. Three months in the country and you had barely stepped outside the streets of Bogota or Medellin. Summer was coming fast, the humidity once you got under the canopy was immense. With a Kevlar tact vest on top it made for an entirely uncomfortable situation and made everyone more irritable before anything had even gone wrong.

The raid was a complete bust. A trap. If it wasn’t for Carrillo’s forward thinking in bringing twice as many men as usual, you wouldn’t have made it out alive. It was messy, more damage was done than necessary and the gains were pitiful. You didn’t find the girl or anything of interest, just more dead bodies. It was a setup, by the time you drove all the way back into Medellin whatever they had needed you out for would have happened.

It had taken all day to get out there, for nothing. Exhausted and frustrated, you walked back to the truck. Javier was pissed. You had been so sure she would be here you’d even grabbed some spare clothes from your locker for her so she could wear something clean on the drive back. But she wasn’t here.

You opened the door and went to climb up when you noticed Javier talking to one of the soldiers. You couldn’t hear what was said over the noise of engines but you quickly realised something was up when Javi began to walk back towards the house you’d just come from. You shut the truck door and jogged to catch up with him.

“Javi! What are you doing?” You called after him, “We’re done here,” Javi didn’t stop walking.

“You’re done. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” He said, a new determination that he hadn’t had before was set in his eyes that only made you more suspicious. He started to walk away from you again.

“Peña! What is going on?” You grabbed his arm and stopped him walking away any further. He glared at you, jaw clenching. He pulled his arm out of your grip harshly and started walking away again. Then it dawned on you. “They found her?”

“Carrillo’s got the asshole who took her. You’re going to get in the truck and go back to the city. This is nothing to do with you,”

“I’m not done until you are, Peña,” You insisted.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” He spat.

“Learnt from the best,” You smiled sarcastically. He sighed, ran his hands over his face. You waited for an answer, one hand on your hip, impatient.

“You know what? Fuck it! Come with me,” He exclaimed, “You want to see the real shit? Fucking come with me now. Don’t talk, don’t fucking breathe unless your told,”

You gulped down any rebuttal and nodded, shocked by his outburst. He turned around and began walking, you quickly followed behind.

You wished you had just done as you were told. Had listened for once. You had never regretted something so quickly in your life.

Carrillo had found the missing girl's body in a ditch at the back of the ranch, alongside her panicking murderer. Caught red handed, he had only survived a short chase before being captured. Carrillo and Peña had known the girl for a long time, this was personal.

He dragged the man inside, hands tied behind his back on a chair. All remaining soldiers had been sent back to the city, as you should have too. Carrillo had done a number on the man before you entered. Welts had grown on his face, blood dripping from his mouth. The man in the chair smirked as you and Pena entered, a gargled chuckle slipping from his lips.

You had to remain calm and collected, like the sight of Carrillo looming behind a bloodied man didn’t send shivers down your spine. You had asked to come after all.

You stood in the corner of the room; arms crossed over your chest trying to look intimidating. Not that you needed to be, the two men did that well enough on their own. Peña stayed with you on the side-lines for a short while, watching Carrillo take the man apart. Peña asked questions, his voice heavy and loud, booming against the walls of the empty house. The man didn’t answer, laughing at them for thinking he would break. Eventually Javier lost all patience and joined Carrillo in torturing the victim.

You had heard of Carrillo’s more uncivilised methods; you had seen the aftermath left on his clothes before. It was scary to watch but nothing matched the fear Javier instilled in you. You had never seen him so angry, almost unrecognisable as he stalked around the man barking questions at him. He screamed at the man’s insolence until he was red in the face. You were terrified, fear pulsing through you. You were stuck the wall and had to force your eyes away as a resounding crack echoed through the room as a hammer met the man’s hand.

Vengeance spurred the men on to no end. You stood and watched them force information out of the man. Every punch, every cry, every word spat at the man chipped away at you. You had prided yourself on being unshakable. You weren’t scared of anything. But being trapped in a room with two men fully capable and willing to kill you, shook you. Not to mention the horror they were producing in front of your very eyes.

It was pointless. Entirely gratuitous. The man was incapable of speaking, his jaw broken already. They weren’t going to get anything else from him but they continued until even his sobs of pain were quiet. Tears prick your eyes and you bit your tongue, not daring to make a sound. You looked up for a second and locked eyes with the dying man. Blood covered his face, jaw cracked and hanging loosely in his skin. His body twitched, lying limp against the restraints. It was worse than any horror shows you’d ever seen, but you couldn’t look away either. You knew he’d done terrible things, a trafficker of people and drugs; he’d murdered the men’s friend and yet you found yourself thinking he deserved better than this.

A gunshot went off suddenly, making you jump and turn away quickly. Blood splattered onto the floor and onto your shoes making you jump out the way. It was over.

Stepping back into the sunlight your head felt full of cotton. So impossibly loud with thoughts but with no room to breathe. You wanted to scream; let all the horror you had seen out. But you couldn’t.

Carrillo and Javier rinsed their hands under a tap outside, red tinged water stained the earth below. You scuffed your shoes in the dirt hoping it would hide the blood until you could clean them or throw them out entirely. You kept your distance from them, arms wrapping around your chest to self-comfort. The two men muttered to each other, Javi catching your eye for a second. You couldn’t look at him, averting your eyes you didn’t see the remorse in them.

You should never have seen that. Not so soon. You wondered how often Javier had done that, he didn’t seem phased at all. Nobody did. You felt a little childish for getting upset, for reacting like a normal person, so stayed silent.

Two men came and collected the body from the house, throwing it into the ditch they had found the girl's body. Wild animals would take care of the rest. Once it was done, you cleared out. You silently followed Javier back to the truck. You were hesitant to be alone with him, the savagery of his actions settled in now. You sat in the passenger seat, shaking. You refused to even look at him, keeping your eyes on your lap, picking out the dirt from under your nails to distract yourself.

Javier didn’t know what to say to you. He’d regretted the decision to let you come along almost immediately. He’d shocked himself with his own depravity, Helena had meant a lot to him and Carrillo too. In that room something overtook him, he’d forgotten you were there until the bullet went in the bastard and he came back to reality.

Now you sat next to him, shaking, and trying not to cry. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut. He drove for an hour before it became unbearable.

“Are you okay?” He asked. A stupid question, obviously you weren’t but he didn’t know what else to say. You had asked to come with him, it wasn’t entirely his fault. He couldn’t apologise for what had happened. He just wanted you to talk to him.

Your bottom lip trembled as you tried to find words. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to show weakness but you couldn’t hold it together any longer.

“You can’t do that Javi! Y-you can’t do that to people!” You cried. Tears spilled as the words tumbled out your mouth and you sobbed, overtaken by emotion. It broke Javier’s heart. “How could you do that?”

Javier sighed heavily and shook his head. He should have expected it would end like this. He had no answer for you. His silence made you quiet again. You turned away from him in your seat, watching the jungle faze out again into green hills and cattle ranches. Frustrated, Javi switched the radio on to fill the silence.

You didn’t speak again for the rest of the journey. Four hours of driving stewing over your own thoughts. You wanted nothing more than to go to bed, curl up under the cover and pray that it was all some horrible nightmare, or some premonition. You could wake up, redo the day, and know not to go back there again and relive the horror.

Javier wasn’t sure what to do, this was the first low you’d hit. A big one at that. As if he wasn’t upset already about the brutal death of his friend, guilt was now eating him alive. He shouldn’t have ever allowed you to come, should have left you at base with Steve. You had to be stubborn. You had to be defiant. All day you had been getting on his nerves, the mission went badly and he was so angry your final pestering made him snap. He didn’t have the patience or the foresight, when the intensity of a situation overtook him it was all he cared about. He didn’t think about the consequences of his actions beyond revenge for Helena. This was yet another reminder of how badly the job of being your mentor was suited to him.

Finally, he parked the truck in the garage and followed you up to the apartments. Your cheeks were stained with tears, you shuffled inside obviously in your head and upset. Javi wouldn’t let you go just yet.

“Rookie come and have a drink,” He said, breaking the hours of silence. He unlocked his door and pushed it open with one hand.

“I’m going to bed,” You replied quietly, already walking up the stairs to your apartment.

“It wasn’t a question,” He said firmly. You stopped on the stairs and sighed, not bothering to fight him anymore you turned around and ducked under his arm and into his apartment.

Javier’s apartment was very similar to yours only bigger. Everything was practically in the same place bar the surprising amount of crap dotted around. You always assumed Javi just didn’t care enough about his living space to keep anything more than he needed. Ten years in Colombia had meant he had collected a lot of random things, there was no real organisation to it at all- bottles on a bar cart with glasses haphazardly stacked higher than was safe, books squashed onto a shelf all covered in dust. There was a small photo of some smiling people, his family you assumed, hung on the wall.

He bought out two beers, passed one to you and offered a seat couch to you. You sat down on the edge; Javier relaxed into the other side. With your mind still spinning, you didn’t want to drink. You awkwardly picked at the paper label, losing yourself in images of brutality playing in your head..

Javi didn’t really know what to do now. He wasn’t one for talking things out; he had hoped you would want to. He knew how he wanted to work it out, how he usually got through moments like this but he couldn’t think about that now. Javi felt it was his duty to help you, but he didn’t know how just yet. He watched you lost in your thoughts, gears visibly turning in your head. Finally, you gave in, collapsing backwards on the leather couch and sighing heavily.

“I’m sorry Javi, you must be tired of me arguing with you all the time. I didn’t want to see that, you were right not to let me,” You said, finally turning your head to look at him. In the low light of his apartment tear streaks glowed on your skin. “I don’t know what I expected,” you laughed humorlessly. Javi shrugged and sipped the beer in his hand.

“It gets easier,”

“That’s horrible,” you replied sadly.

Javi hadn’t thought much on the subject- it was best not to. He’d become entirely desensitised working down here and hadn’t noticed at all. It seemed like normal. Surely everyone knew what bones sounded like smashed under hammers, everyone knew the gurgle and hum of the last breath as someone choked on their own blood. But they didn’t.

“I guess so,” He shrugged.

“I’ve never seen someone die before,” You said after a moment of silence. “I’ve shot people but they didn’t die. Or I didn’t see it if they did. It’s a lot less dramatic than I thought. It’s just... over,”

“First time I saw it was back in Texas,” Javi said, “Couldn’t have been much older than you, watched him bleed out on the side of the road,”

“What happened?” You asked.

“Kid was caught with some weed, ran into the highway and got hit by a semi before we could catch up,” You saw his eyes glaze over for a moment as he remembered before he shook his head and looked up again.

“That’s rough,”

“Like I said, you get used to it,”

You sat quietly drinking together for a few moments, neither you or Javi knew what to say.

The mixture of anguish and alcohol was not good. You could feel yourself heating up just looking at him. The thought of touching him, losing yourself in him, taking your mind off the tragedy of the day, was intoxicating. If you stayed any longer you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself going for it. You could go upstairs, cry into your pillow and hope your hand would do a good job releasing the pent up energy in you. Javi set his beer down on the floor and turned to you again, eyes wandering obviously over you as you sat opposite. You could feel your self control slipping.

You stood up quickly, Javi watched you curiously. A sudden wave of need overcame him at the thought of having to spend the rest of the night alone. It shocked him. Urgently, he grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks before you could announce your departure. You looked down at him, his eyes were wide and shining in the light as if he was trying not to cry. Locking eyes with him you knew what was about to happen, there was no escaping it anymore. In an instant he pulled you sharply down onto the couch and into his lap.

The kiss was desperate and messy. Javi moaned into your mouth, relief flooding his body as you kissed him back. A voice in his head told him to stop, but he couldn’t. Grief, remorse, and lust had taken over entirely. He needed a release, wanted to show just how sorry he was for what he had done. He shouldn’t be kissing you, shouldn’t be pushing your hips onto his, but he wanted to escape.

You needed it just as badly as him. You clung to Javi, grounding yourself in his touch. If he held you, he couldn’t hurt you, couldn’t scare you again. Your hands came to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal warm skin underneath. He helped you, throwing the item away before he pulled your shirt over your head and joined his shirt on the floor.

You explored the new territory enthusiastically, feeling his strength beneath your hands as you kissed him. You pulled on his hair at the nape of his neck as his tongue explored you mouth making him moan again. He was much more vocal than you expected, each time it made your pussy flutter in anticipation.

Javi kissed you quickly, moving down your jaw to your neck and mouthing over the exposed skin above your bra. He didn’t move to take it off, just enjoying your taste. You bucked your hips sharply into his growing bulge, making him hiss and bite you. You whined, wanting him to do something and stop teasing you.

“Have you got-?” You asked quickly. There was no need to pretend like you didn’t know what you both wanted now.

“In the drawer,” He pointed at the side table next to the other couch. Part of you wanted to make a joke about his apartment being covered in condoms but now wasn’t the time.

You stood up out of his lap and over to the drawer, pulling out a package and throwing it at Javi. He’d taken off his pants in the time you were away. He watched you with hungry eyes, stroking his cock idly watching you. Overcome by need, you shoved your pants off leaving them on the floor before scrambled into his lap again.

He kissed you quickly, chased kisses down your jaw and neck. Your mind wandered, remembering for a moment the blood and screams, the fear Javi had put in you watching him torture that man. The same hands you had watched drip with another man's blood were now groping your ass. You screwed your eyes shut, pushing out the thoughts and slowly sank onto his hard cock.

Javi sighed, biting his lip to stop himself saying something stupid. You felt amazing around him, warm and wet. All doubt he had before left him entirely, he was consumed by you. He nearly lost his mind entirely at the pathetic noise you made when he shifted you up slightly. All his focus went on you.

“Lo siento, hermosa,” Javi mumbled as he kissed your neck. You only nodded, whimpering as you circled your hips around. Javi’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, cursing your name. You were far too good at that. “Again,” He panted, you complied and drew another moan from his lips.

Neither you nor Javi would last long, but that wasn’t what this was about. It was taken what you needed from each other, affirmation of life and trust. His head rested in your chest, lips kissing your sweaty skin as you ground onto his cock. His hands held you close, heavy on your back as you moved above him. You moved faster now, long strokes of your hips up and down over his cock. Gasping breaths and the slap of skin on skin filled the room as you and Javi lost yourselves in each other.

Your legs began to shake as you neared your high, you gasped his name. Javi shifted under you, getting leverage, and started cantering up into you, his hands holding you still. You moaned loudly as he hit a new spot that had you reeling. Javi settled back against the couch, fucking you harder and watching with delight as you fell apart.

Your orgasm rolled over you like a tsunami wave. So good you swore your soul left your body. You cried out, pussy fluttering around Javi’s cock pulling him along with you. Javi stopped moving, pulled you close and kissed you hard, moaning into your mouth as he spilled into the condom. You bucked against him, dragging out the lasts of your high.

Finally, you stilled, coming back down to earth again. Resting your forehead on his, you giggled as endorphins took over. Javi smiled, kissed your forehead before you tilted your head to catch his lips again. The kiss was sweet, urgency gone now. He kissed you languidly, fingers brushing over your cheeks. He was calm again, all anger and frustration fizzed out in your shared orgasm.

He lifted you off his cock, you whimpered at the loss. You lay limbless on the couch, watched him pull on his pants before he disappeared into the bathroom.

You didn’t feel anything, no worry no anger. You were on clouds. You couldn’t find it in you to worry about any of the inevitable consequences of what just happened.

You redressed while Javi was gone, feeling a little exposed entirely naked except your bra on his couch. You laughed to yourself when you saw where your shirt had ended up, draped over a lampshade. You pulled it on, and were halfway through buttoning it up when the bathroom door opened again.

“You good?” Javi reappeared, a satisfied smile on his face. You nodded.

“Good,” You replied with a smile. “You?” He nodded and settled back on his couch, lighting a cigarette, and taking a drag.

There was a silent understanding that nothing that had occurred today would ever be spoken about again. It was done. Apart from the bruises Javi had left on your neck, there was nothing left of any of it. You had both needed the stress relief, your trust was back and you could move forward with a clean slate.

---

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littledonkeyburrito · 7 years

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Literally copy pasting a survey bc I’m bored af

What does your town’s name begin with? B Are you a seafood fan? Yeah. I have a near constant craving for seafood paella Do you prefer dark, brown or white chocolate? Milk or sometimes dark Give me a random word in another language. Tell me what it means. Aventura. Means both adventure, and affair Which city would you like to visit- Rome, Tunis, London, Madrid or Paris? Paris bc Disneyland.

Have you got perfect vision? It’s good enough to not need glasses but also I can’t read shit in the distance.

What song(s) do you put on repeat often? Sofia by Alvaro Soler, and a lot of stuff by Genitallica How many letters long is your last name? 8 Are you wearing shoes, just socks or nothing on your feet? Nothing Do you like the smell of a barbecue or bonfire? Sometimes, depends on my mood How often do you drink soda? Most days What accent is the sexiest? Depends on who’s talking Do you currently live in the same country you were born in? No. What’s your current mood? Is “tired” a mood? A romantic meal, a trip to a theme park, or go to a concert? Theme park please How good is your memory? Sometimes it’s really good, sometimes it’s absolute rubbish What was the last pill you took? Paracetamol Have you ever seen someone you knew and purposely avoided seeing them? Of course Are you smiling in your default picture? No You think you can last in a relationship for six months? Probably Do you like pickles? Sometimes Are you texting someone? No Be honest, do you miss your ex? One of them kinda yeah just because he was ripped Do you believe exes can be friends? Depends, but generally no What was the last thing you looked up on Google? "employment agency maritime shore spain” Is your hair naturally straight? yep Do you have a best friend that knows you inside and out? yeah Do you remember the Pepsi Commercials with Britney Spears? no ..? Have you known your best friend a long time? Like 9 years I think Have you kissed someone with the name beginning with J or B? A couple of both What’s something you really want right now, be honest? To be travelling and having more adventures Would you be able to name everyone you kissed in 09? Yeah it was one person, once. Who’s the last person who you went out to eat with? A sort-of-ex a couple of weeks ago Is it awkward when you run into your exes? I don’t think I ever have How did you get one of your scars? Got cut by someone’s thumbnail during a karate tournament Do you wear makeup everyday? No Were you single for your last birthday? Yep When will you be in a relationship next? Who knows

Does your middle name begin with letters A-G? No

What is your state’s largest city? Barcelona

Pick your three favourite vegetables. Leek, Capsicum, Potato

Have you ever broken a movie or game disc? Probably

What colour are your brother’s eyes? Hazel I think

Do you watch Law & Order: Special Victims Unit? No

How many flights of stairs are in your house? None, but many in my building.

Have you ever played a drinking game? Which ones? Yes, so many.

Do you often feel excluded? Sometimes, but probably because I moved to the other side of the world from all my friends

Are you good with managing your finances? Yes, I am weirdly good with money and I don’t even try.

Do you have an accountant? No

Did you ever play Neopets when you were younger? So much.

Have you ever been to Mexico? Not yet

How big is your bathroom? Big enough I guess

How many friends do you have on Facebook? 226 apparently

Do you regularly check anyone’s profile online? There’s one or two

What is the closest pizza place to your house? I have no idea

What age did your mum stop helping you clean your room, if she ever did? I have no idea

What colour is your toothpaste? Blue

Have your parents ever worked in medicine? No

Do you have any silly nicknames or pet names? My dad sometimes calls me shrimp because I’m little, but he’s been calling me that since I was like 7

Are you any good at drawing? No

Is there anything unusual about your house? HAHAHAHA my bathroom is weird as shit. You have to walk THROUGH the shower to get to the toilet and then there’s a balcony next to the toilet too

Can you maintain a text conversation or do you run out of things to say? Depends

How old will you be turning in 2020? 26

Have you ever met anyone with Multiple Personality Disorder? Yes

What is your favourite type of cookie? idk, chocolate chip?

When was the last time you painted your nails? Several years ago for a cosplay

Do you like word or picture tattoos better? Picture

Do you find it hard to talk to strangers, even people who work in stores? Yep

Have you ever tasted goat’s milk? Goat’s cheese, yes. Goat’s milk, i don’t think so

Are you a fidgety person? Yep

How many serious relationships have you been in? None

Did you ever take classes for a musical instrument when you were younger? Drums

Is there anything going on outside your window? Just people on the street doing their thing.

Have you ever taken care of a newborn baby? No. I had never even held any age baby until a few weeks ago.

How old were you when you got your ears pierced? 10

Do you snore when you sleep? Not that anybody has ever told me about

Have you ever been 10-pin bowling? Yep

Do you have your own bowling ball and shoes? No

What was the last type of burger you ate? I have no idea when I last ate a burger. Oh no wait I had an egg and bacon roll in a slightly pretentious cafe in northern Colombia.

Have you cried in the past week? Nah, I don’t really cry

What were you doing yesterday at 8 AM? Pressing snooze on my alarm Whose bed did you sleep in last night? Mine How long have you known the last person you spoke on the phone to? I don’t talk on the phone much so I think it was the boss from the job I just left so I guess 2 weeks? About how long is your hair? Not very

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go? Back to somewhere in central america

What were you doing an hour ago? Watching Netflix When was the last time you kissed someone? A couple of weeks ago just before I left Panama Do you think it meant anything to that person? That he could go back to sleep because it was 4:30am and he was only awake to say goodbye to me. Pretty sure he then slept in until like 5 minutes before the hotel checkout time. How did you get your worst scar? My brother had me on the dog lead when I was about 2 and he tripped over and it yanked my head into the corner of the wall. Are you on good terms with your most recent ex? Depends on your definition of ex. Could you go a day without texting? I could but I’m not going to. Who was the last person you rode in a car with? The driver who took me to the airport in Panama. Bc I don’t think a bus counts. Do you have any plans for the weekend? I don’t have any plans ever. I literally have no future plans at the moment. Do you have any nieces or nephews? No Are you wearing a watch? No. The strap broke when I was in Colombia and I still haven’t fixed it yet. Does your current/last job require that you wear a uniform? It did not. But the one back in australia, yes.

Do people misspell your name often? Yep When will your driver’s license expire? No idea and i cbf getting my wallet to check Do you have any plans to see anyone special today? No. Plans. Ever. What was the cause of the last time you cried? No idea, don’t remember when that was. Are you in any kind of a club or organization? Nope Where did you go to grade school? Primary school? Back in my little hometown in aus Who is your 23rd phone contact and how do you know them? It’s my mum! She birthed me. What would you do if your found out your mom was pregnant again? I’d be very surprised and curious who the father was. Do you want kids of your own someday? Probably not Do you live in an apartment? Yep Did you have a high school sweetheart? No If the last person you kissed proposed to you what would you say? I’d be like, “Whoa slow the fuck down there buddy, we literally spent 2 weeks together.” Would you ever get back with one of your exes? Ehh maybe the ripped one, but not for anything serious When was the last time you ate a poptart? God I don’t know, like two years ago? What kind was it? Not a clue Do you have any friends of the opposite sex you can tell anything to? Yeah Where is your dad right now? Probably at home asleep Are you wearing anything that belongs to someone else? No

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latestnews2018-blog · 6 years

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There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than Beyoncé's Braid

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/there-were-zero-things-better-this-week-than-beyonces-braid/

There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than Beyoncé's Braid

Welcome to Good Stuff, HuffPost’s weekly recommendation series devoted to the least bad things on and off the internet.

Beyoncé has had a hell of a week. She was granted full control over Vogue magazine’s coveted September cover and used her power to hire the first black photographer to shoot the cover in 126 years. This was before she dragged the fuck out of her husband’s former mistress while performing onstage during ANOTHER sold-out world tour before she got her nails done at 1 a.m. as we lessers slept.

But her best moment came during the On The Run II tour stop in Philadelphia, when our Queen Beyoncé resurrected her high braid — a mythical creature that first graced us with its presence during the Tidal x 1015 concert in 2016. In one memorable moment, the braid takes flight, swinging to the left before floating briefly in front of its master’s face. Then it snaps to the right and drapes itself over her shoulder. Even the braid bows down, despite having the capability to slice Becky With The Good Hair in half. Wow.

How the braid whips, bounces, spins, jerks, twerks and prances through the air with a distinct choreography that, somehow, moves in tandem with Beyoncé is something I still haven’t figured out. But I am nothing more than a mere mortal gazing upon a goddess and her agile, all-powerful braid. I’m convinced that the braid is the last Infinity Stone. It will save the universe from Thanos, climate change, income inequality, racism, sexism and all other social ills since the goddess wielding it is a black woman dedicated to improving the lives of marginalized groups.

Do you now understand why your fave could never? ― Julia Craven

Henry Cavill’s Magical Beard In ‘Mission: Impossible ― Fallout’

my sexual orientation is henry cavill loading his biceps so hard he actually grows more beard and forms a pocket in his shirt pic.twitter.com/lo9tN3D8WR

— little king trashmouth (@masonjar92) August 2, 2018

One time in high school, I tried to grow a beard instantaneously. Everyone else laughed and said it couldn’t be done. After puckering my face a while in an attempt to squeeze out a follicle without anything happening, I started to believe them. At least, until the recent release of “Mission: Impossible ― Fallout.” From that movie comes the GIF of Henry Cavill cocking his arms and magically growing a beard. He even grows a breast pocket for good measure, like a real gentleman.

Since then, my life has changed.

I want to say thanks, Henry Cavill, for giving bare-faced high school kids hope. I want to tell you that all the grief you’ve gotten for the weird CGI cover-up in “Justice League” was worth it.

But mostly I just wanna say, “Eat my shorts, Class of 2006!” I told you it could be done. (And while I’m at it, to my childhood development class teacher: I know I said I was sorry for drinking that extra grape juice box, but I’m not. I wanted to drink it. I like grape juice. And it was delicious.) ― Bill Bradley

The RHONY Boat Ride From Hell

This week, “Real Housewives of New York” fans finally got to see the long-awaited “boat ride from hell.”

There is a particular pleasure in watching arguably terrible people you alternately love and loathe experience the terror of a clunking mini-yacht getting swept up in the choppy waters of Colombia. Sonja Morgan and Ramona Singer volleyed between screaming up at the sky and clutching each other. Carole Radziwill vomited into a champagne bucket and later said the boat was scarier than being a foreign correspondent during wartime. Bethenny Frankel held Radziwill’s hair back and tried to avoid being hit with flying deck furniture. Luann de Lesseps hit the floor for cover. Dorinda Medley frantically searched for life jackets (there was only one) as she yelled that she smelled smoke. Tinsley Mortimer and her perfect french braids were unfazed. Afterward, the housewives were safe, but they all had diarrhea.

Some might call watching the boat ride from hell a guilty pleasure, but I feel no guilt. As Vulture’s Bryan Moylan put it: “This is the apocalypse that we hath wrought and it is glorious and it is still not enough.” ― Emma Gray

A Good Week In Music

This was a really good music week. NPR kicked it off with a project that ranked “the top 200 songs by 21st century women+” ― an awesome cross-genre compilation of music from the last 18 years that I’ve spent most of the week cycling through. As a country fan, I was happy to see so many women from a genre that usually ignores them get their due, and while I naturally have some small quibbles (I might have chosen different songs by Miranda Lambert and Kacey Musgraves), the list overall was a great installment in NPR’s ongoing effort to celebrate pop music in “more inclusive ― and accurate ― ways.”

Then, on Friday morning, a friend on Twitter pointed me toward “To The Sunset,” a new album from Americana/folk/country crossover artist Amanda Shires. “To The Sunset” is yet another album that doesn’t fit neatly into any single pop genre ― Shires called it “futuristic” in an interview with The Boot this week, and has openly talked about breaking from the traditionalism of both country and Americana. You can hear that sort of sound from the opening notes of “Parking Lot Pirouette,” the album’s opening track. And “Break Out The Champagne” might wind up as one of my favorite songs of the summer.

“I don’t usually toot my own horn, but it’s a pretty good record,” Shires said in The Boot interview. I’ve only made it all the way through once as of this writing, but so far, “pretty good” is a pretty big understatement. ― Travis Waldron

A Dog Dancing With A Frilly Pink Umbrella

Dog Umbrella Dance pic.twitter.com/K3KUvO692g

— Nature is Amazing 🌴 (@AMAZlNGNATURE) August 2, 2018

Apparently this video is from 1999, if a YouTube account called ViralHog is to be believed, but I didn’t experience this jovial prancing pup until this week, so it counts. There are so many good things about this: his frilly pink umbrella, his jaunty hops, the fact that a Twitter account called “Nature Is Amazing” posted this. The best part, though, are the very stilted (and fancy!) crossover steps he takes toward the end of the video — the whole thing is 15 seconds, so don’t worry, you don’t have to wait long. What a good boy. Nature is amazing. ― Jillian Capewell

LeBron James’ School

Allison Farrand/Getty Images

LeBron James addresses the media following the grand opening of the I Promise school on July 30, 2018, in Akron, Ohio.

The best thing I saw this week was the rollout of LeBron James’ new school in his hometown of Akron, Ohio. The I Promise School, as it’s known, isn’t a private school, and it’s not a charter school. It’s a straight public school, but with exceptionally progressive ideas meant to help children in the same position James once found himself.

“I know these kids basically more than they know themselves,” he said this week. “Everything that they’re going through as kids, I know.”

As such, the I Promise School focuses on kids who are behind their peer group, and it tries to help their parents and guardians, too, with GED classes, job placement services and more. School days will be longer, as will school years, but that’s to keep the kids out of trouble. Transport is free. So is breakfast and lunch. Each kid gets a free bike and helmet. And if a child successfully graduates from James’ school, he’ll pay for his or her tuition at the University of Akron. Somehow, all that still doesn’t come close to explaining everything about this school, which came as a much-needed dose of inspiration for me this week. ― Maxwell Strachan

A Very Pretty Song About What A Disappointment I Am

Although Pitchfork tried its best to make me ashamed of it, I adored the dreamy debut Wet album, “Don’t You” so much that it dominated my 2016 Spotify wrap-up playlist. The indie pop group’s sophomore album, “Still Run,” dropped last month ― in the interim, the band went through a crisis that resulted in a lineup change and a romantic break-up between two members ― and I have now gotten around to being obsessed with one of its gorgeous singles, “Lately,” a wistful yet full-throated artistic break-up song with lilting verses that make my insides feel like they’re floating free in a sea of salt tears.

“Lately” is about trying to make someone feel useful while dealing with the reality that they’re not useful. “Lately” is about having a selfish boyfriend, maybe, or a lazy co-worker. “Lately” is about giving everything you have to give and then giving a little more and then saying “enough.” Band leader Kelly Zutrau’s voice alternately whispers and throbs; when it throbs, I feel like an invisible wire is tugging at my heart, trying to pull it out from behind my rib cage.

I listen to it all the time: on the subway, while elbowing through tourists in Union Square, while washing the dishes, while sitting at my desk. I listen to Zutrau croon, “I’ve been bending over backwards just to make you feel like you’re wanted / I use up all my energy just to make sure that you know you’re important.”

I imagine that this is what my editor thought when I sent her a rough draft that ends “TK ending, any thoughts?” and then followed up with a Slack message complaining that no one takes my writing seriously. My eyes grow damp. I softly warble, “So what have you done for me lately?” The Union Square tourists give me odd looks. I don’t care. That is the power of this song. ― Claire Fallon

‘The O.C.’, 15 Years Later

It’s been 15 years (!!!) since “The O.C.” premiered on Fox, and this story in The Washington Post was a delightful nostalgia trip that examines the role indie music played on the show. There are lots of fun tidbits in that story (who knew Rooney was named after the principal in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”?) but mostly, it’s just a fun look back at the melodramatic music that served as both the soundtrack to the show and to the high school years of many American teens who dreamed of living rich in California ― myself included.

Can anyone listen to The Dandy Warhols now without thinking of Seth Cohen bopping through his house in a bathrobe and a graphic tee? ― Paige Lavender

‘Eighth Grade’ Opening In Wide Release

August is always a spotty month for movies, left to catch the summer-blockbuster runoff and pave a fresh road toward Oscar season. This week’s big studio releases — the action comedy “The Spy Who Dumped Me,” the YA sci-fi knockoff “The Darkest Minds” and the melancholic kiddy caper “Christopher Robin” — are mostly disappointments. So instead, you should see “Eighth Grade.”

Centered on the social frailty of a 13-year-old (promising newcomer Elsie Fisher), Bo Burnham’s directorial debut has been steadily expanding to more theaters over the past few weeks, and now it’s nationwide, poised to delight everyone who enters its orbit. Here, middle school is just as terrifying as anything you’ve seen in “Hereditary” or “A Quiet Place” — but the movie makes up for it with a smokin’ hot dad (Josh Hamilton), salient commentary about the trials of social media, a timeless portrait of adolescent anxieties and a note-perfect music cue from the one and only Irish castle dweller known as Enya. “Eighth Grade” is the “Lady Bird” of 2018, ushering in a month full of astute films about teen girls (see: “Skate Kitchen,” “Madeline’s Madeline”). Don’t miss it. ― Matthew Jacobs

A Band Called Let’s Eat Grandma

Let’s Eat Grandma ― an experimental “sludge pop” group comprised of lifelong BFFs Jenny Hollingworth and Rosa Walton, both 19 ― released their second album, dubbed “I’m All Ears,” in early July.

A huge fan of their first album “I, Gemini,” a fairy tale-inflected freak show for the ears, I was excited to press play. The first song sounds like a threesome between Robyn and the “Phantom of the Opera” duo ― i.e. MY TWO FAVORITE THINGS.

The album perpetuates LEG’s predilection for twisting people’s perceptions of girliness to uncanny extremes. (The musicians are known to, at concerts, flip their waist-length hair over their faces and perform secret handshakes like haunted twins.) “I’m All Ears” continues to explore teenage girlhood using fantasy and horror as lenses ― or in their case, kaleidoscopes. ― Priscilla Frank

The Future Of Film Is Female

This week marked “The Future of Film is Female,” a fun series of films hosted by New York’s Museum of Modern Art, featuring women directors and creators. The organizers, Nitehawk Cinema’s Caryn Coleman and MoMA’s Rajendra Roy, did a good job picking out important, up-and-coming filmmakers to spotlight. I was lucky enough to see “Landline,” the charming 2017 comedy about family, fidelity and growing up, as well as “Bar Bahar” (“In Between”), about three female flatmates in Tel Aviv whose attitude and togetherness pushes them through tough times. “Landline,” in particular, sparkled for its snappy writing (by a woman) and its lovable lead actress (Jenny Slate). ― Anna Krakowsky

Patti Smith Eating Carrot Salad Over And Over Again

Instagram

I check the hashtag #carrotsaladatumas on a weekly basis. It’s never updated that often, but I labor in the pursuit of a digital Patti Smith sighting that warms my otherwise cold, depressive heart. In each of the photos associated with the tag, Patti appears at a Far Rockaway cafe alongside an unassuming bowl of electric orange wisps. A profoundly well-coiffed man sits next to her. It’s always Klaus. (Klaus Biesenbach, the violently handsome former museum director of New York’s MoMA PS1, who’s headed to LA for a fancy new gig.) And his caption is usually the same: “good to have a weekly routine.” Goddamnit, he’s right. ― Katherine Brooks

Read last week’s Good Stuff.

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joyfullyimportantyouth-blog · 7 years

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Subject: THE BEGINNING - June 28

To: me right now

Subject: you’re on the airplane RN moving to France in an unintentionally wholesome sundress *when you try to be one notch above “I WWOOF and wear hiking boots with everything and am not materialistic!” but not quite Coachella blog-y and Target is a lil bitch* & oversized headphones that look really dumb but cute in an LA “I listen to DR DRE but I eat chia seeds!” mall way

Dear ME (age 25),

HOLY FUCK you’re actually doing it - strapped in ready for the deep end of abroad antics. It’s not your first rodeo, ol’ gal, but “you know what you’re like” (hint: you were watching Dead Poets Society on the eve of your 21st birthday and purposefully trying to cry to FEEL).

Each trip has felt like a zippy fling off of a tiny cliff. You’ve landed upon the unknown sceneries of NO DRUGS POR FAVOR hostel bars… and long nights of Vietnamese sleeper buses wondering… who am I supposed to be? *NOOOOOO...*

Words like “process” and “expectations” now seem very frivolous, but I guess I had to think way too hard about about these things, like when you purchase an overpriced personalized license plate. I’ve gotten to the point in my life where I’ll digress into thinking I’m not very important anymore (you know, just a little speck in the sand of this sand dune of a world)… until I remember that I’m still that person who hears a Rihanna song and envisions themselves breaking out some very trending YouTube dance moves on a music video set that I fatefully get scouted for, so I can’t make any promises here for modesty.

Alright alright alright, so what’s the point of this “email” to yourself (or online diary TBH)? So what are you doing right now? Moving to le Sud de France for LOVE. And I’m finally managing to write something down after all of these months of barely seeing friends to make money in a little hometown coffee shop. To do this. I need to remember this time of my life. When I am young and have a hot French boyfriend who says things like “let’s make party” (fair la taufe!) and has a patchouli soul (zero waste!) but wears singlettes with manatees on them (alternative bro the best kind!) who I attended a Shaggy concert with in Colombia and then we got matching Libra tattoos. Let’s not be too deep here…

Things just feel right - very simple (I’ll laugh at this statement when I cry about something probably tomorrow). I was supposed to move to LA when I got back from Colombia, and now here I am. I remember riding in a taxi on the way to Toganga the second day I knew Ao and telling him about my plans to make a dent *find a job waiting tables with lots of insanely attractive people * in the film world, not feeling very confident -- but feeling like maybe I was just being a weenie and insecure, and that could be abolished with a swift kick to the script I needed to start and finish. He said I had to go for it if it was my dream. Where did he envision himself? In the country, with a garden, being a carpenter. My lil mind whizzed around envisioning sweet bilingual children journeying out into the yard to grab some lavender while I looked really MILF-y in some Chanel after my hot “Partner” finished a fence while I finished a script. “Wouldn’t they just love that: the American TV writer with the French carpenter boyfriend?” he joked, shaking his head in skepticism. UMMM YESSS. I got very glowed up about the possibilities. And then we started sharing immodium and being really sweaty around each other and I wondered if I was being ridiculous... and then the rum must’ve gotten to me because I didn’t even question that I was now going to France instead of LA. I didn’t have to wear a “I AM A FEMINIST” shirt to repent my sins of “following a boyfriend,” because fuck it if I got the ‘net to write from anywhere and can finagle my way into reaping the benefits of a socialist non-GMO-y country. So, on this Alaska Airlines airplane eating some processed corn nuts in my wholesome sundress I am...

DREAMIN.’ Whether you count dreamer to be pain au chocolat doodler who has two left techno feet or American girl in France crushing hard on Ricard and her token study abroad S.O. named Pierre who wears Peruvian crystal chokers, you decide. ENJOY + SLAY.

#livinthosetwenties justgoforit beacliche beauthentic bewhateveryouwannabe doitforthelove

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thatsbaloney · 7 years

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June 2016

Now that 2016 is finished, Brodie and I thought it would be a good time to recap the month-long trip we took earlier that year. We bused south through Colombia to Quito, Ecuador, spent a week with my brother-in-law and his family there (we saw our nephew in person for the first time!), then went to the States and spent two weeks there. The trip lasted from June 23rd to July 30th, so a month and a week, actually.

Our first stop traveling south through Colombia was Manizales. After that we went to Pereira (Brodie’s last post). Manizales is a small city in the mountains and a popular stop for visiting Colombia’s coffee region and enjoying the area’s hot springs.

We booked a stay through Airbnb with a lovely empty-nester named Beatriz, headed to the bus terminal in Medellín, wandered around reading signs until we found a bus company that went to Manizales, and embarked on our trip!

We weren’t on a big bus or anything; it was one of those vans that seats 10ish. And since the trip takes 4 hours and 45 minutes, it wasn’t long before we made a pit stop in the middle of nowhere between two villages. There was a typical roadside parrilla (grill) restaurant readying for the lunch rush we had beaten by too long to eat there, and in addition to the sausages on display and the usual meat-and-starch dishes, they had a counter where they sold traditional sweets and snacks, one of which had a not-so-traditional name. Now you all know how Pennsylvania is spelled in Spanish!

It wasn’t long before we hit the road again…

…only to then hit this loveliness. We were stopped dead for like 20 minutes until it was our turn to crawl, so some of us got out of the van to take advantage of the opportunity to stretch our legs. At least the jam was along a pretty country road with trees and farms around to enjoy. I checked out the bugs and plants and cows until I got called back to my motorized bubble.

The reason for the backup was construction. Above is the map of the main route we took. We took our trip over six months ago, and this map is from now. They were working on the road then, and they’re still working on it in at least two places.

We hit traffic on the outskirts of Manizales too. We got there right at dusk, which also happens to be rush hour. Same time as the States, around 5-6:30pm.

Since we arrived at our host’s apartment after dark, all we did that night was go out for a quick dinner in our neighborhood and turn in. It was one of those perfect first nights once you get to where you’re going after a day of traveling, warm and cozy inside with the chilly Manizales mountain air hovering outside. We slept like babes.

The next day we naturally wanted to get acquainted with the city. We figured it wouldn’t take long because it’s pretty small—221 square miles (572 km2) for the whole city with a population of 400,000—but we also only gave ourselves one full day, so we couldn’t dilly dally too long with the breakfast our host was kind enough to provide us, a luxury you rarely get with Airbnb hosts. We ate and chatted and pet the ancient cat. Then we headed into town trying not to forget our host’s instructions for taking the bus.

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We caught the right color, but didn’t know when we should get off, so we asked a random person on the bus about Parque de los Fundadores, which is where our host suggested we get off and start walking around to explore downtown. On the way, I stared out the window and took in the graffiti, restaurants and universities. After living in a city of 3 million, they all seemed smaller and closer together in Manizales. We got off at the right parque, and started looking around.

It was too cloudy to see the mountains, so I snapped a shot of the closest statue (Ernesto Gutiérrez Arango, 1918-1997, mayor, doctor, cattle farmer, bull fighting enthusiast (ew…), and university founder extraordinaire) and we headed towards the pretty white and wood church down the street.

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It’s the Basílica de la Inmaculada Concepción and overlooks Parque Caldas, which is named for Francisco José de Caldas y Tenorio, Colombian scientist and patriot who didn’t just give his name (posthumously or otherwise) to this park, but also to the entire department of which Manizales is the capital. He was born in Popayán, Colombia, a city we also visited on this month-long trip, was a lawyer, naturalist, military engineer, mathematician, geographer and inventor, and was executed by the Spanish crown for his efforts as a forerunner of Colombian independence from Spain. The Count of Cartagena, who gave the order for his execution, responded to appeals for Caldas’s life with, “Spain does not need savants.” And Caldas is said to have drawn the Greek letter theta (θ) on a wall before he was executed. Theta is a symbol for death, and his writing it on the wall has been interpreted as him saying goodbye.

Founders of universities, executed savants, they’re all about revering smart guys in Manizales. Statues of area educators and writers are even tucked away in clumps of bamboo to be discovered by curious passersby.

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We headed further into downtown Manizales along one of the main thoroughfares, Carrera 23, or just La 23. It’s always interesting to see what kinds of names the local entrepreneurs choose for their businesses. Plus, their security style with the street lifeguard chairs. Never saw any lifeguards, though. It would have been cool. I like to imagine them blowing whistles at jaywalkers or clumps of friends blocking sidewalk traffic while they chit-chat.

We took a detour to see more of the city.

Cobwebs of wire over valley views

Improvised clothes lines, or an aerial dumping ground for unwanted stuff?

Then we headed back to La 23 and passed by the city’s bigger and fancier historic buildings.

Mil telas means 1,000 fabrics. Sewing and clothing manufacturing are huge in Medellín, so it doesn’t surprise me that it would be popular just a few hours away in Manizales too. The pink building is DIAN, the taxman.

Next stop, Plaza de Bolívar (virtually every town and city has one named after him, and Manizales is no exception), Manizales’s main square.

This is, by far, the coolest, most badass Bolívar statue I’ve ever seen. Part man, part condor, 100% awesomeness. The Andean condor (Vultur gryphus) is a national symbol for Colombia and many other Andean countries.

Photo credit: Emilio del Prado. Originally posted to Flickr as “Con aires de abuelete.” CC BY-SA 2.0. https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10005571

Some may think it’s ugly, and I say that’s just not nice. Some may say it looks like one of these bad boys:

Photo credit: Muppet Wiki. http://muppet.wikia.com/wiki/Skeksis

and I say that’s just being nostalgic.

I mean, they’re amazing! Just look at that wing span!

Photo credit: Dutchbaby. http://godutchbaby.blogspot.com.co/2009/06/el-condor-pasa.html.

They even hunt wolves!

Photo credit: Eco-nonlogical. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cG8ZB4akl6w

Given how dramatically the statue does break from tradition, however,

it’s not very surprising that it has caused some controversy. I’m glad the city was ultimately bold enough to move past it and embrace the sculptor Rodrigo Arenas Betancourt’s dynamic and powerful vision.

The sculpture represents many things. One is the combination of heroism (the human aspect) and freedom (the condor aspect), and the details tell us much more. In the pictures you can see that the wings have holes in them. The chest is damaged too, and it all represents violence. Down below, carved into the pedestal, you can see a face. There’s one on the front and one on the back. These represent the Bolívar of the shadows, a Bolívar we don’t often get to see in the more traditional, unquestioningly (even superficially) patriotic sculptures of the same old guy on a horse with a sword, one possible exception being the Naked Bolívar in Pereira, which, incidentally, was done by Betancourt too! Ha!

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Another detail you can’t see in these pictures is that the condor has holes where its eyes should be. This signifies, according to Spanish Wikipedia, the blindness of life and existence. And finally, the mask you can see jutting out from the pedestal also represents Bolívar, but this too is having eye issues. One eye is missing and the other is damaged. In this way the mask of Bolívar represents peace and freedom, but in suspense.

So, yes. This sculpture was…amazing! Also, there’s a basilica, which you can see behind the condor-man in the picture to the right. It’s called the Catedral Basílica Nuestra Señora del Rosario de Manizales. It’s in the neo-Gothic style, which part of me thinks should have married it well with the cloudy, gray weather, but that was lost on our camera.

The best we could do with our camera.

One thing we neglected to do was go to the top of the cathedral and see the main square from above. It would have been cool, but we decided to do other things instead. There was a lot of art just around the square, and other parts of the city to see.

To the left is the sculpture Adam and Eve by the artist Guillermo Botero (not to be confused with Fernando, whose art can be found in this post of ours and this one). And to the right are two details from one of two murals by Guillermo. It’s called Vientos de Libertad (Winds of Liberty), and tells about July 20, 1810, the date of Colombia’s declaration of independence from Spain. It was done in glazed ceramic. I love the wide open eyes and crazy angles of the people’s joints.

I love walking past doorways, peeking in and being surprised with a spacious courtyard I wasn’t expecting to see. Sometimes they have fountains and palm trees, sometimes they house cafés or restaurants, sometimes there are families relaxing in them. The one that inevitably caught our eye in Manizales’s main square was the government building, and since this courtyard is open to the public, we thought we’d go in instead of just taking a peek.

It did not disappoint!

Now, off to check out the cable cars of Manizales. Like the Metrocable of Medellín, the Cable Aéreo de Manizales was created more as a means of public transportation than tourism, but it would behoove any tourist to go for a ride because then you get to see more of the city, and from the inhabitants’ point of view to boot. Plus, one of the stops on the cable car is a charming little town called Villamaría. Our morning spent and our stomachs growling, we decided to ride up and have lunch there.

Off we goooooooooooooooooo!

Rising hills with expanding city creeping into their green, the south side of Manizales, waterfront shantytown

We made it! But then it was raining and we were starving, so we set out to find food. We found a little place on a street off of Villamaría’s main square. It was packed, which was good and bad. Good because it probably meant the food was decent, and bad because we had to wait. It wasn’t long, though, before two seats opened up, but the catch was that we’d have to share the table of four with two other people. We didn’t even blink before saying yes. Coming up on two years abroad, we weren’t strangers to sharing tables with strangers. We quickly ordered the lunch special (soup, chicken, rice, beans, salad, juice), and started up a conversation with our tablemates after they gave us a few awkward glances. We talked about horses and I don’t know what else. Perhaps our other chitchatting topics were overshadowed by the discovery that one of the guys was a prestamista, or, cultural and legal differences from one country to another notwithstanding, a loan shark. He kept track of his debtors on a makeshift portable Rolodex: a pile of business card-sized pieces of paper that he could flip around a ring. He kept it in his pocket, and consulted it before leaving the restaurant. Brodie and I waited until the two guys left to let our mild shock hang out. It’s weird when you hear stories of “types” of people, and then you actually meet one of those “types” of people and talk them. They instantly go from being a story to a real person just like you.

We finished our lunch and, the rain thankfully having (mostly) abated, headed back to the square to wander and take pictures. We had our rain jackets, so we didn’t let the shower deter us.

Iglesia Nuestra Señora del Rosario, Villamaría, Caldas, Colombia

The municipal building, which extends out to the left of the church

“Primer Conversatorio: Hablemos de paz en el territorio”

(First Discussion: Let’s talk about peace in the territory)

We were in Manizales around a month and a half before the Colombian government and the FARC drew up their first peace deal of 2016 (they had to do a second one because the first one didn’t pass the plebiscite that was held). We have seen signs and literature in every place we’ve visited about how to bring peace to the country ever since we first came to Colombia. Being able to witness the peace process happening in the country it’s for, and talking to people about it and hearing people say how they feel about it in person is both intense and powerful, even for outsiders like us.

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To end our lunch trip, we took a coffee break in the square before heading back to our apartment.

We people watched while we sipped our brews. I wonder what was in that guy’s sack…

We had time for one last activity before we ended our day, but we don’t have any pictures of it because it was nighttime and we just didn’t feel like worrying about our cameras while we relaxed in some glorious hot springs. There are multiple places to go for hot springs, and we chose one recommended to us by a friend. It was called Tierra Viva, and was smaller and more low key than the most popular place in the area, which definitely appealed to us. I mean, how fancy and extensive do hot springs really need to be if all you want to do is sit in hot, sulfur-y water until your fingers get pruney and then go home warm and happy? We were really pleased with Tierra Viva. The staff were nice, the place was clean, the pools were nicely laid out, you could order food and drinks at any time. You could even drink in the pools, and there were no problems with spills or empty cups strewn everywhere. We got there just before it got dark, and there weren’t many people, but the place had filled up pretty well by the time we left. Hot springs are most popular at night. We chatted with a college professor and his nephew while we floated around in the water, ordered giant, crispy patacones with hogao for dinner by the hot spring pools, and had the staff get us a taxi home.

Our whirlwind tour of Manizales was finished!

The next day, as our bus left the city, I saw this graffitied wall next to the road:

Before the graffiti went up, there had been a mural about slavery on the wall. It just struck me the way the graffiti covered up the recently freed slave in the upper right corner, slapped up over his body with his arms and legs sticking out, as if he had been squished against the wall by it.

Until next time!

Shannon

2/18/17

Medellín, Colombia

The Mini-mountains of Manizales June 2016 Now that 2016 is finished, Brodie and I thought it would be a good time to recap the month-long trip we took earlier that year.

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