#he's a beautiful man i like looking at him sue me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

genshin-impact-unofficial · 6 months

Text

Danced With You Once Upon A Dream 🌠

Headcannons of Genshin boys seeing you in a ball gown and asking you to dance.

Ft: Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Childe, Thoma, Ayato, and Alhaitham

Tags: Fem!Reader, crushes everywhere, jealousy, fluff, PG, GOOD VIBES ONLY, i chose a lot of smug men please spare me, no beta we die like men Notes: I JUST REALLY WANTED TO MATCH PRETTY BOYS TO PRETTY DRESSES! SUE ME! (Another repost!)

Diluc

Diluc is a known hermit. After his father's death, it was a rare sight to see him at any large social event. He preferred to keep it that way, but tonight's banquet is an exception. The masked vigilante accepted the invitation for an opportunity to eavesdrop on a fatui officer in attendance. Unfortunately, his person of interest appeared to be a complete no-show. The whole night was already a total bust.

Perhaps if he left right then, he could still do a patrol around Mondstadt before dawn. It was the enjoyable option compared to being approached again by another person seeking his attention. Idle chit-chat was never something he enjoyed much anyway and he was in no mood to talk business.

Diluc contemplated his exit strategy that would avoid being stopped by anyone. An eruption of chatter drew everyone's attention to the main doors. There was a late arrival being announced. It was nice timing, he would just need to slip out during the commotion. How odd for one guest to kick up this much of a fuss... Diluc's curious gaze followed up to the large entry doors and inevitably fixated onto the beautiful figure, onto you.

His plans to leave vanished with each step you descended down the grand staircase. Your flowing dress moved in such an entrancing way that he could swear you plucked it straight out of fairy tale. Diluc has been so busy with the winery and his investigations... he couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to you. Perhaps he should stay a little longer, if only just to catch up at least.

The red haired man was utterly enchanted by your movements. It explained why he was drawn in like a magnet, moving as if under your spell. He strode smoothly through the crowd to meet you at the foot of the stairs. His hand extended to guide you down the last couple steps, down to earth, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. When you finally glance up from your hands to meet Diluc's gaze, adoration is already clear across his features.

"Y/N" He greeted you, bowing to place a small peck on the back of your hand. "Its lovely to see you tonight." Diluc spoke slow and earnestly, as if channeling every ounce of his princely charm into that sentiment. You felt like butter melting into his warmth, becoming pliant in his hands. “May I?” Diluc gestured forward, asking if he could accompany you in.

The presence of the elusive owner of Dawn Winery did little to quell the whispers and eyes on you. Now awoken from your dreamy haze, you became aware of just how much attention you've managed to garner. You looked yourself over. Had there been a stain that you missed? Were you not on theme? How embarrassing... Your panic was interrupted by Diluc's fond chuckle. It almost annoyed you how amused he seemed by your antics.

“There’s no need to worry. They’re staring because they can't bare to look away. You are simply captivating.” Diluc stated as if it were an obvious fact. “If you are still feeling nervous, how about a dance to get your mind off it?”

Kaeya

Kaeya spent most of the ball like a fly on the wall, listening in on conversations here and there. To his dismay, there was nothing interesting happening tonight. The juciest thing he managed so far were the two Fatui delegates discussing their distaste of the liquor served. “Honestly! Can’t they provide anything stronger? It’s practically disrespect to serve-” A pause. “Hmm... well at least there’s plenty of eye candy to eat up.” The man changed topics in favor of discussing the newest arrival to his comrade.

From his vantage point, Kaeya discreetly surveyed the crowd. His sweep abruptly stopped when he spotted you in such an elegant gown. “My, my don’t you clean up well.” The captain chuckled quietly to himself. He smirked slyly down at you and thought of a couple ways to make you be the one to approach him.

His plans changed rapidly when he noticed how swarmed you were. You hadn’t even taken five steps before multiple men stopped you, a half circle was already beginning to form. Confusion and an awkward politeness were loud and clear on your features yet no one took the hint.

The look of the situation bubbled up something in the pit of Kaeya's stomach. He would sooner cut off his silver tongue before ever calling it jealousy. It was accompanied by a feeling of annoyance. Do those men not have eyes? Couldn’t they see they were making you uncomfortable? They don’t even have the decency to let you greet your friends first before bombarding you.

He simply could not let this stand. As a knight, he is upheld to a code of chivalry after all. It was easy to weave his way through the other guests to get to you. “My dear Y/N, you made it!” Kaeya addressed you, loud enough to make a couple of the men turn to look. Without hesitation, he took the opening to wedge himself between the half turned bodies.

He made the maneuver look easy, like he had done this exact thing a million times over. The Calvary Caption smoothly took your hand in his and gazed into your eyes like there wasn’t a dozen people staring. He flash of a small smirk, with a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glint in his eye before, he continuing his theatrics.

“You look simply heavenly.” Kaeya said in a sickeningly sweet tone, playing it up slightly for listening ears. “Now that you’ve arrived, you can do me the honors of bestowing me your first dance of the night. You did promise it to me after all.”

You caught on quickly, nodding in agreement. That's all it took for Kaeya to lead you out of the corner you were trapped in and into the rest of the festivities. Once you both were out of earshot, you quietly thanked him.

“There’s no need, Y/N. Those men were being simply unmannerly.” He laughed, a smug look creeping back onto his face. “Although, it would also be quite rude to make a liar out of me. So how about that dance?”

Zhongli

Zhongli was familiar to with the formal banquets held on the Pearl Gallery. He did not always attend, but when he felt the desire to people watch the consultant accepted the invitation. The harbor is a beautiful heart of Liyue and the its people are the blood that pumps through her veins. To the being who laid its foundation, Rex Lapis viewed it like art to see the continued flow of life unfold before him.

He participated as the role an average guest. Someone may strike up a conversation now and again, in response he would chat idly about nothing at all. The visitor would then move on to their next conversation and Zhongli was perfectly content sipping his drink and taking in the evolving atmosphere.

The next shift in energy accompanied your arrival and his ember eyes watched the scene change before him once again. The former archon was fascinated by the buzz that rippled outward from where you stood. When you approached, people excitedly began chatting, smiling, and laughing. Knowing you well, he could tell you were radiating delight effortlessly, even while just greeting other guests. He no longer observed the gathering as a whole, his gaze instead followed the intricate detailing leading up your bodice. It was entrancing to watch each graceful step while you made your way around the ship’s deck.

Zhongli contemplated the notion of approaching you. Doing so would actively shift the trajectory of the evening. Taking your time for himself disrupts the organic flow of art he admired just moments prior. Would that be fair to you? You, who was someone he respected and admired. You, who looked so divine that it demanded all of his attention in that very moment. You, who Morax would willingly give all of it to.

The answer to his dilemma came simply while watching your eyes meet. Zhongli no longer felt content with his self assigned role of bystander. He had a deep desire to partake. Thus, the stubborn rock uprooted himself.

“Hello again Y/N, you look blindingly radiant tonight.” Zhongli approached you with a graceful bow The lightest kiss is placed upon the back of your hand like a whisper. Your glowing smile and warm greeting prompts yet another decision. “It would be heavenly if you allowed me your company tonight. Would you care for a dance?”

The old archon had already inserted himself into this occasion's flow, it would be foolish not enjoy it in full.

Childe

Jealousy. Jealousy. Jealousy. You were his guest after all.

Tartaglia invited you, along with a few others, to a ball thrown by the Snezhnayan embassy. You weren't EXACTLY asked to be his date. Heck, the redhead even emphasized that you were invited as a good friend. But nonetheless, an honored guest of a Fatui Harbinger should be assumed off-limits. It shouldn't matter how stunning you look. Those men lingering around you will just need to be reminded. Politely of course....

Childe insisted on your attendance, even going as far as offering to buy you any dress you wanted for the occasion. You were still unsure, since you were aware of how bad the Fatui's reputation had tanked in Liyue recently. During back and forth with him, you jokingly pointed at an outrageously expensive dress in a shop display. There is no way, even someone with money, would drop that much on such a frivolous dress. It was double your rent for archon’s sake.

Inevitably, when the dress was delivered on your step, you had to sit down to keep from falling over. You begged him to return it. There’s no way you could accept such an outragous gift. HE WAS BEING UNREASONABLE PLEASE! Like always, Tartaglia only laughed at you and teased how great you'll look in it.

The redhead didn’t expect just how great that was.

Some last minute Fatui conflicts allowed you to arrive before him. The party was in full swing and lively as ever. Guests were having enthusiastic discussions sometimes in a tongue you didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t long before you were pulled into a conversation, and then another.

You already had five drinks lined up waiting for you by the time Childe arrived to the event. The fiery exchanges died down and a few peeled off rub elbows with the harbinger. Unfortunately, you were not able to go greet your friend. Three men blocked your path, insisting you finish your drink so you could dance with them. Any declination was laughed at and brushed over.

“Ah, you must be hard of hearing. My lovely guest here doesn’t wish to dance with you.” The polite words held a chilling edge to them. The men turned to face the instigator with puffed chests and annoyed glares. The Eleventh Fatui Harbringer stood behind them, a malicious smile staring directly back at them. Blood drained from the frozen men's faces and one by one they excused themselves with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Now this isn’t fair.” Tartaglia sighed, his features relaxing now that is attention was on you. “You weren’t supposed to look this amazing in that dress Y/N.” He teased while also taking your hand and guiding you into a spin. “I may have to buy you a few more, so that I can see you like this more often.” You relaxed when you heard his playful tone return. You tell him to quit it while lightly slapping his shoulder. “Hm? I’ll stop if you agree to dance with me. How about it beautiful?”

Thoma

Thoma knew his way around a party. With so many connections to maintain, he fluttered from guest to guest like the social butterfly he was. When the Kamisatos throw a banquet, he’s usually busy with everything that goes on behind of the scenes. As a show of appreciation, Thoma was told to simply enjoy himself tonight. He was sure to take advantage of such an opportunity. The blond even invited you. Since he had no obligations, he could be the one showing you a good time for once.

It was comical how obvious his double-take was when you arrive. The boy's green eyes sparkled and his mouth hung slightly ajar in awe. He catches himself, remembering his manners. Surely, it couldn't be proper to gawk at your friend so openly.

Some habits die hard. The Kamisato Clan’s resident housekeeper is the first to greet you and guide you in. “Y/N you look....! Hah, I don't even know how to describe how beautiful you look. I'm utterly speechless." Thoma's charming smile was blinding when he looked at you. For someone rendered speechless, he didn't stop there. "That dress is perfect on you and the color just make your eyes... wow.”

You are showered in compliments. How he is doing it with a straight face? Thoma tone was so earnest and genuinely delighted to behold you, but each word made your face burn in embarrassment. You had to insist that he to stop to prevent your incoming heart attack.

“Ah, sorry Y/N. I must have gotten carried away.” He chuckled, only then finally showing an inkling of bashfulness. “Here, allow me to show you around, I have some people I’d love you to meet.”

Thoma offered his arm and guided you around the festivities, while also subtly showing you off to everyone and anyone. Like two peas in a pod, you laughed and talked while you mingled around. Anyone who didn’t know better would think you were a fresh couple struck with puppy love. But in Thoma's oblivious mind, he saw himself as only your attendant for the evening. He was simply there to ensure you’re a great time. He was happy with this.

The blond noticed your eyes drift over to the dance floor. It's then that he toed a line of where a servant should stay. It would be selfish for him to take you from the party and be the one to dance the night away with you. Sure, he wanted to..... he really wanted to. Would that be ok? Well... what was life without risks? If this was not proper, he'd happily accept whatever consequences.

“Y/N, would you like to dance with me? It would hands down make me the luckiest guy here.”

Ayato

Ayato was bored of the banquet too soon after it begun. As Yashiro Commissioner, he hardly had a moment of peace. There was a multitude of important people in attendance and out of courtesy he exchanged pleasantries and discussed light politics. His lines were well rehearsed, polite and non-confrontational on any one matter.

He didn’t know you were on the guest list until your arrival. It didn't go unnoticed how you dress style and color pallet correlated perfectly with the Kamisato Clan's traditional attire. He deduced that Ayaka must of had a hand in both of those happenstances.

As if confirming Ayato's suspicions, Ayaka was the first to greet you. He watched the two of you excitedly talk amongst yourselves. She gestured toward your dress with a not-so-subtle two thumbs up from her. There was a growing chatter amongst the the guests. In less than five minutes you managed to become the center of talk. Not just anyone was warranted to wear Kamisato colors to their events, and so extravagantly at that too. Even with Ayaka’s clear public approval, people will imagine drama where there is none.

Ayato had to admit, he couldn't tare his eyes from you. The clan head he was speaking to, continued going on and on about business dealings. Meanwhile in the commissioner's head, he began to map out how to speed run through the rest of the interactions he was obligated to have tonight. If he played his cards just right, he may have a moment to chat with you. If time allowed, he may even be able to squeeze in a single dance.

Ayaka inevitably was pulled away to attend to her other duties, but she encouraged you to feel free to mingle and have fun. Once she left, the eyes on you and the quiet murmurs became much more apparent.

Ayato noticed your previous excitement shift into anxiety. Left like this, you would be eaten alive by these ruthless socialites. You might even leave before he had a chance to make his way to you. This definitely won’t do. Ayato politely excused himself from the mind numbing pleasantries and briskly made his way across the banquet hall. Others who approached him received a similar kind but firm dismissal.

“These kinds of people always find something to gossip about, trust me.” You jumped, not expecting the sudden company. Least of all, you weren't expecting the head of the Kamisatio Clan to be the one to approach you. You look around at all the prying eyes and quickly compose yourself. You deeply bow to the man in front of you and state your name and status as a formal greeting. It felt strange since you were both so well acquainted as good friends. It was better to be safe than sorry in your opinion. You waited to be greeted back in a similar manner so that you could be released from your bow.... but there was only silence.

“Hah! There’s no need for that Y/N. You shouldn't feel the need to speak so formally to me for their sake.” Ayato's hand was slightly covering his mouth to stifle a few stray chuckles. You stood up properly and frowned at your friend in more embarrassment. Ayato sighed, amused, and leaned down to meet your eye level. “Really, there's no need for that. Besides, with how exquisite you look tonight, I should be the one honored.” The commissioner took a knee and placed a princely kiss upon your knuckles. Voices began to erupt around you two.

“Hm... Since everyone is going to be gossiping anyway, how about we give them something to talk about?” Ayato asked smoothly, his hand already leading you toward dance floor by the small of your back.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham was only there because he was FORMALLY WARNED that he would be reprimanded if he missed another mandatory Akademiya event.

The scribe was the definition of a party pooper. He sat in the corner with the best lighting and cracked open the book he had brought along. (This is the equivalent to being forced to go to an office Christmas party for this guy.) Any attempts to talk to him were either ignored or efficiently rudely turned away.

The book became front once he finished it twice over. Alhaitham knew he should have brought a spare. To pass the time, he turned off his noise cancelling headphones and waited. People tended to say more when they thought you weren't listening. To his dismay... some conversations were just not worth listening to. The scribe became so bored he actually began his third re-read at some point.

“Is it even allowed to wear something so....... adverse to an Akedemiya function? That has to be some sort of dress code violation.” Two scholars whispered to one another just within earshot. Ah, finally something interesting.

Alhaitham spared a discreet glance from behind his book to the controversy of the hour. It was you... how unexpected. And how you were dressed, also unexpected. A quick glace had become more akin to appreciation. You stood defiantly confident in your body conforming emerald gown, meanwhile scholars were bending over backwards to avoid getting close at all costs. As if being associated with you would also get them a violation too.

The scribe shut his book since he had become interested enough in the situation to give his full attention. He had an idea what this was all about but this was definitely not the outcome he would have bet on.

You had mentioned your annoyance with the Akedemiya’s dress code to him. You even submitted a few applications for an appeal. A couple even got approved through him before ultimately being rejected by the grand sage. It made no sense! Why were you being dress code on the exact shade of green you wore? Or that your attire had to be floor length? For archon’s sake you were even told your comfortable shoes were too dirty to be acceptable. And you definitely showed them. Alhaitham didn't bother hiding the way he eyed you over. And recalling the rules and regulation.... there’s technically nothing wrong with your outfit. Although, you were guaranteed to get an earful tomorrow by the sages. He decided with that alone that congratulations were in order.

“I must say, this a wonderfully scandalous way to prove your point.” Alhaitham mused while approaching you. You rolled your eyes at his comment and both relief and stress washed over your person. While thankful for some sort of company tonight, your antisocial colleague was the last person you expected to run into here. You greeted him stiffly while preparing yourself for the endless teasing sure to follow. Alhaitham had just enough respect for your efforts to hold his tongue for now. He instead held out his hand in an invitation, the hint of a smirk emerging across his features.

“You know, dancing is technically only 'frowned upon' at these kind of events. Care to piss off a few more old men?”

You guys were about to be in so much trouble...

424 notes · View notes

ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 1 year

Text

𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Javier Peña

pedro pascal has me in a chokehold and i'm not gonna apologize for it. take this smut. also, this is basically just a self insert cause i couldn't help myself

Summary: All alone at a bar after being stood up by a blind date, you catch Javier's lustful eye.

Warnings: self insert basically (I'm half Mexican so...yeah, I made reader Mexican too. sue me), alcohol and drug consumption, dancing and leaving no room for Jesus (grinding), SMUT (MINORS DNI), one night stand, fingering, oral (m!receiving), spanking, kinda mean dom!Javi

word count | 4.3k🤙🏻

You didn’t think your night could get any worse.

First, you get all dolled up just to be stood up by your date, then the friend you came to the club with abandoned you to hook up with some random guy. You hoped you’d at least meet someone here to soothe your bruised ego, but there weren’t any takers or anyone that met your standards. Yeah, tonight seemed like it would be a bust.

Unbeknownst to you, across the bar, Javier Peña couldn’t keep his eyes off you. After a rough day on the job, his partner encouraged him to come to this club to blow off some steam. He was content just hanging out with Murphy, until he saw you. The expression on your face is what caught his eye first, the way you had a permanent frown and look of disappointment. He instantly knew you must’ve gotten stood up, or broken up with. Why would anyone stand up someone as gorgeous as you? He’d never know. He really thought you were. Gorgeous. The way your eyes sparkled in the club lights, the way your lips wrapped around the rim of your margarita glass, leaving a subtle red stain with your lipgloss. Of course, he couldn’t help but notice your attire; a dress just above knee length lined with lace, hugging the form of your torso but flowing around your hips. He followed the curve of your ass down your legs until he got to your freshly pedicured feet that sported wedges that matched the dress. He hated knowing that you must’ve gotten dressed up for nothing.

You were such a stunner, Javier didn’t even register Steve was even talking to him. “Sorry, what?” He tried speaking over the music blaring over the speakers.

Steve only laughed, shaking his head as he took a swig of his beer. “You’ve been eyeing that bird ever since we got here. Just go talk to her, man.”

Javier shook his head, turning back around to face his partner. “Nah, I came here with you. It’s fine.”

Steve gave him an unimpressed look, totally not believing him. “You’re so full of shit. Right now, I know the last thing you wanna be doing is spending time with little ol’ me when you could be chatting up a beautiful woman. I’m alright, thinking about heading home to my woman actually.” He finished his drink and started to get up before Javier could even respond. “Enjoy yourself, you’ve earned it after the day we’ve had. See ya on Monday.”

“But, I-” Javi’s voice trailed out the farther Steve walked away, leaving him alone and slightly buzzed. He looked back over at you, somehow looking even more pitiful and on the verge of completely giving up on fun. He sighed heavily before chugging the rest of his beer. “Fuck it.”

You didn’t hear the approaching footsteps over the music, getting startled out of your thoughts when you heard a voice from beside you. “Te ves como si te estuvieras divirtiendo.” The man beside you said, his voice straining a little so you could be able to hear him. At first glance, you thought about leaving right away, but once you got another look, this man was actually pretty attractive. He was tall, gruff looking, but his smile was sweet.

You smiled apologetically. “Lo siento, no hablo español.” You cursed yourself for never learning Spanish.

“Oh, no problem. I’m originally from the States, so. You’re not Colombian?”

“Mexican, actually.”

“Ah, muy bien.”

You giggled, taking a sip of your margarita to calm your nerves in front of this very handsome man. “Spent my whole life around Hispanics and never seemed to pick it up. My father is very disappointed in me.” His laugh made a blush bloom across your cheeks, but thankfully the lights in the club were dim enough to make sure he couldn’t notice.

“What are you doing in Colombia?”

“Holiday, invited by a friend.”

“And what brings you to this club tonight? Got a hot date?” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

You huffed. “Well, I was supposed to meet someone here, but he was a no show. I came here with my friend too, but said friend has ditched me tonight.”

His eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “They left you after you got stood up?”

“Oh, no, she wouldn’t do that. I told her she could, but that was before I was ghosted. She’s probably back at our hotel getting dicked down right now. So, I figured I’d stay here a while to give her some privacy or snag someone here for myself.”

“Any takers?” Javier already knew the answer to that, but he wanted to hear it from your mouth.

You sighed with a sad smile. “Nope. I’m completely alone here.”

He leaned in closer to you, resting his forearms on the bar stand. “Well, not anymore. Can I buy you a drink?”

You smirked. “I don’t even know your name.”

He reached out his hand. “Javier Peña.” You closed the gap, taking his course, warm hand in yours. He grinned as you told him your name, as if you just told him the secret of life. “Bonita. Two whiskeys, por favor.” He spoke to the bartender. Oh, this guy was good.

“You’re a bold one, aren’t you?” You giggled.

He shrugged. “Have to be in my line of work. Plus, if I wasn’t, I’d never get laid.” You almost spat out your drink. Well, bold was an understatement.

“And what line of work would that be?”

Javier seemed to hesitate at that, scrunching his face in a frown for a brief second. “DEA Agent.” You nodded in acknowledgement, your expression plain so he couldn’t guess what your stance was. You weren’t running away immediately, so that was a good sign.

Throughout the next hour or so, you both talked each other’s heads off. Each of you telling each other about your work, hobbies, likes and dislikes, even some political stances (the alcohol may have loosen your tongues).

Then, your eyes lit up as a popular Spanish song sounded through the speakers. “Oh my god, I love this song!” You beamed, your body instantly swaying to the beat in your chair.

Javier smiled, stepping away from the bar and extending his hand. “Dance with me?”

“You’re just gonna assume I know how to dance?”

“You’re Mexican, aren’t you?”

“Half.” You chuckled nervously.

He shrugged, grabbing your hand and pulling you off the stool you were sitting on. “You’ll be able to keep up. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. Promise.” He purred, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. Oh, he was trouble.

You let out a surprised squeal as Javier spinned you around with his hand before getting into the dance. The song was more fast paced, so you both settled on a messy salsa. Javier led you well, laughing off whenever you accidentally stomped on his foot. You had taken a salsa class before, so you weren’t too terrible. But you could tell Javier could’ve looked much better with a more experienced partner. But he didn’t choose someone else, he chose you. “See? You’re not that bad!” He shouted over the music, causing you to grin.

“Well, you’re an excellent dance partner.”

As the energy died down and a slower song came on, you and Javier stepped closer together, wrapping each other’s arm around the other as you started to sway to the music. Your heart thumped in your chest as he looked down on you with those dark, mysterious eyes. He didn’t even try to hide every glance down to your lips or your chest that was pressed up against his. Taking a look around, all the other couples on the dance floor were in similar positions, most making out which caused a blush to form on your cheeks. Javi seemed to notice as he smirked, stepping back to twirl you around, pulling your back against his chest, still keeping up with the beat.

“And what about this song? Is this another favorite?” He spoke against your ear, eliciting a shiver down your spine as you felt his breath fan across your skin.

You shook your head. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“Oh, it’s a great song. It’s about getting to know a woman’s body for the first time.” Your eyes widened. “What she likes, how she likes to be touched, learning if she likes it slow…or rough.” You silently gasped as Javi gripped your hips tightly, pulling your ass against his pelvis, bringing one hand to press against your lower stomach. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the music or maybe it was just you, but you subtly smirked as you grinded back against him, a soft groan escaping from his lips as he tightened his hold against you.

“That does sound like a great song. I bet you know all about that, hm?”

“I am a fast learner.” He growled, running his tongue up the side of your neck, instinctively allowing your head to loll back to rest against his shoulder. You bit your bottom lip to keep in a moan that threatened to escape as his teeth dug in gently. You smiled as you felt Javier’s bulge against your ass, the music allowing you to grind against him without raising any brows.

“Should I guess what you like?”

He hummed. “If you come back to my apartment with me, you won’t have to.”

You turned back to face him, a bright smile on your face. “Will you be gentle?”

He smirked darkly. “I don’t think that’s what you want, querida.”

The both of you didn’t waste any more time in that dance club. You felt your arousal pool in your underwear as Javier all but dragged you outside to slam you against his car, his lips already brushing against every piece of exposed skin he could find before kissing you roughly, his mustache tickling. You moaned at the intensity of it, not having been laid in a long, long time. But you couldn't get too ahead of yourself, you weren’t at his apartment and you were still in public, but by how handsy Javier was being, you figured it didn’t bother him. “Are we going to your place or should I just take off my panties right now?” You giggled as you gently pushed him away, keeping him at arm's length.

“Sorry. I don’t normally take my time…” He whispered breathlessly, placing a feather light kiss on your cheek.

You smirked. “I have some weed if that’ll make you relax.”

Javier narrowed his eyes and pinched your side playfully, making you wince. “You know, I could arrest you for that.”

“Yeah. But from the hard on that pressing against me right now, you really want to get in my pants. Can’t fuck me when I’m in a jail cell.”

“I can be creative.” You let out a whimper as he smacked your ass hard, groping the fatty flesh through your dress before reaching behind you to open the passenger side door of his truck. “Get in.”

You chuckled at his demanding tone, clearly worked up, but you didn’t have the heart to tease him anymore so you obeyed. You almost flinched as he slammed the door shut, speed walking to the other side of the car and starting the engine as soon as he got in. On the road, Javier extended his hand towards you, palm facing it. You raised a brow in confusion. “The drugs.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Seriously? It was a joke. I don’t have any weed.”

Javier looked you up and down with a glance before a smirk came to his face. “So you wouldn't mind if I search you?”

“Where would I ever hide it? My bra? My cunt?”

“Scared I’ll find some?”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from smiling, shifting in your seat to slightly face him, leaning up against the door as you removed your underwear but keeping your dress covering your modesty. “I’ve got nothing to hide, sir.”

Javier’s eyes darkened as he glanced between you and the road. There wasn’t much traffic, so he figured he could get away with it. He reached his hand over and patted your torso down, reaching further and further until he got to your breasts, kneading the flesh softly until his fingers dipped in past your dress and bra. You sighed out as he roamed your tits, pinching your nipples until they hardened. “All clear?” You teased, squeezing your thighs together to get some friction.

“Not yet. I have one more place to check.” You tried not to shiver as his hand trailed down your body, lifting the hem of your dress out of the way and pushing your legs apart to lay his eyes on your glistening pussy. You could hear a soft growl from him as he slid one of his fingers through your slit, your wetness gathering at your entrance quickly. “Been a while, has it?” You gasped as his middle finger started to press against your clit, heat rushing to your face and neck, contrasting against the cold window your head rested against.

“A bit, yeah.” You exhaled shakily.

Stopping at a red light, Javier’s eyes were fixed on your face as he inserted two of his fingers inside you, watching the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head briefly as your lips parted in a moan. He groaned, curling his fingers rhythmically and trying to stretch you out preemptively. “So fuckin’ tight, babygirl. Squeezing my fingers so hard.” Well, it was hard not to when his fingers were so thick and long. He definitely was an expert in this field, finding that place inside you that always had you panting and whining, which is exactly what you were doing as he paired the thrusts of his fingers with his thumb circling your clit.

“Fuck, that feels so good Javier.” You moaned, holding on to the dash for dear life as you tried not to squirm too much.

“Call me Javi.” A sudden honk of a horn jerked you and Javier out of the moment, the spotlight turned red minutes ago, causing the car behind to lose their patience. You giggled as he cursed in Spanish as he sped off, faster than before, anxious to feel all of you. With his fingers still inside you, Javi hastily parked his vehicle on the street outside his apartment, ripping off his seatbelt to lean over to kiss you sloppily. “You were close before, weren’t you?”

You nodded with a whine, the windows starting to fog with your panting breaths. You held onto his shoulder as he forced you to that peak once more, just the right move to push you over the edge. “Javi, fuck-!” You whimpered, the wet squelching of his fingers moving in and out of you echoing in the truck.

“So wet.” He chuckled darkly. “Gonna come on my fingers, querida?”

“Yes. Yes, Javi!” You moaned loudly, heat taking over your whole body as you rode out that wave of ecstasy on his fingers. Javier groaned as he watched your face contort in pleasure, it almost making him come in his jeans untouched. He grinned as he watched your slick coat his fingers and pool into his palm, pulling his hand away to see your cunt make stringy cobwebs of cum. “All clear on those drugs, agent Peña?” You joked when you noticed his oblivious fixation.

He chuckled softly. “I don’t know. I think you’ll need to join me in my apartment for a further evaluation.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Your hands shook as Javier led you up the stairs to his apartment with heavy and hot gazes towards you, almost to make sure you were following him. Like you’d ever want to leave with the promise of getting laid. He seemed to be antsy like you, fumbling with his keys and having to take a deep breath before unlocking his door. But once you stepped over the threshold, all possible nerves promptly left his body as he pinned you to his wall and kissed you passionately. You whined as his hands wandered until they gripped onto your ass, grinding his clothed erection against you.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you, hermosa.” He growled before latching onto the crook of your neck with his teeth.

“Then don’t.” You whispered shakily, palming his bulge which elicited a low, deep groan from him, the noise causing a pang of arousal to resonate through your entire body. You wanted to hear more, but Javi grabbed your wrist.

“So eager, babygirl. Want me to make you come again that badly?” He chuckled mockingly when you nodded. He led you to his bedroom, sitting you down on the edge of his bed with his lips latched onto yours. “Wanna feel those pretty lips around my cock.” He hummed as he unbuttoned his jeans. Your eyes widened and mouth watered as Javier took his cock out, thick and long. Obviously his jeans had hidden its actual size, you didn’t know if you’d be able to fit it inside. “Think you’ll be able to take it?”

“I’ve just never had someone as big as you, Javi.” That seemed to make him smirk with pride.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll go easy on you. First, at least.” Javier gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, suddenly feeling intimidated by his domineering stature; but it only turned you on even more. “You wanna suck my cock, princess?” You smiled in reply, licking your lips and leaning forwards to lick up the small bead of precum gathered on his slit, the action making him hiss softly. Making sure to keep eye contact with him, you licked the underside of his cock from base to tip, wrapping your lips around the head and suckling on it gently. “Oh, you’re a tease, huh?” You yelped as Javi grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled harshly, taking advantage of your surprise and shoving his cock in your mouth. You instantly tried to relax, sucking on him until he let out a lovely moan. “That’s it. That’s it…good girl.”

His praises and moans went straight to your core, making you even needier than before. He sounded so pretty. Even if your jaw started to ache, you wanted to keep hearing his breathless noises of pleasure. You made a pretty picture, Javier thought. Your lips and tongue around his cock, looking up at him with tears spilling out the sides of your eyes whenever he hit the back of your throat, your moans of exertion causing a delightful vibration. He wouldn’t last much longer like this. He needed to fuck you. Now.

You gasped as Javier pulled you off his dick, kissing you roughly before removing his shirt, your lips upturning in a smile as you admired his body. “Clothes off and lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.” He ordered, and you had no problem obeying, might’ve even been a bit too eager, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Your face flushed with heat as his gaze fixed on your breasts, licking his lips and smirking. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous, baby.” You giggled as he pounced on you, sloppily kissing you while positioning himself in between your legs.

You bit your lip as Javier rubbed his dick in between your slick folds, gasping as the head nudged your clit. “Want you inside me so bad, Javi.” You whispered, one hand cupping the side of his face and the other bracing yourself on his shoulder as he started to slowly push in. Your head fell back to the pillow beneath you with your mouth open in a moan, Javi fully sheathing himself inside your velvety walls.

“Fuck, babygirl.” Javier groaned, his brows furrowed, trying to restrain himself from plowing into you right away. He had a vice grip on your hip, while his other hand was groping your tit. “You feel so good.”

“Fuck me harder, Javi, please.” You whined, canting your hips upwards to try and get more friction, but he roughly pinned you down with his hands.

“Ain’t gonna last long if I do that.”

“I don’t care. Please.” You begged, looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes. Javier growled as he pulled out of you, flipping you over on your front, head down and ass up, pushing himself back in your pussy harshly, setting a cruel pace. “Fuck!” You groaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull in a pleasured haze. He fucked you hard and slow, each thrust making you jerk and cry out every time he hit the ends of you, a loud slapping skin against skin noise echoing through his entire apartment. You’d be surprised if his neighbors didn’t come banging on his door telling you to keep it down.

“You like this better, slut?” He mocked before letting out moans of his own, the new position one of his favorites, that much you could tell.

“Yes. God, yes, Javi!” You started to prop yourself up on your elbows, but Javi pushed you back down, keeping your face pressed against the pillow.

“Keep your fuckin’ head down.” He demanded, grunting loudly with every thrust. “Anything else you wanna complain about, sweetheart?”

“Can you…can you spank me, please?” You couldn’t see him from your position, but he grinned, followed by a couple hard slaps to both your ass cheeks, making you moan in appreciation. You could tell he enjoyed spanking you, since he did it often, your skin throbbing and raw but it felt so good. His grip on your hip he used as leverage started to turn painful as opposed to the pressure it previously felt, just knowing you’d have plenty of marks afterwards, and you couldn’t wait to see the masterpiece of bruises he left on your skin in the morning.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re making it real difficult to keep it together. I don’t think I’ll be able to last much longer.” You lifted yourself with your arms, trying to turn yourself on your back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I wanna watch as you come.” You smiled sweetly. Now how could Javi deny you when you looked like that? He allowed you to turn over, then he sat up on his haunches and wrapped your legs around his waist. He looked so fucking angelic from this angle, looking down at you with a pleasure ridden face, the sweat coating his body making him shine, his hair disheveled and a dark look his in eyes. The sight paired with his ruthless thrusts, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you, made your second climax of the night get closer and closer, you could almost taste it.

Javier watched as goosebumps rose all over your body, your nipples hardening and your walls clenching around him tightly, signaling you were close. If it weren’t for how close he was as well, he’d surely have an arrogant smirk on his face from how drunk you were getting off his cock. “You gonna come for me again, querida?”

“Yes, Javi!” You cried, your body starting to shake uncontrollably as the first shock waves of your orgasm washed over you. “Oh my god, fuck, I’m coming!”

Javier let out a strained moan as your walls pulsed around him, soaking his cock and your face contorting in pure euphoria. He couldn’t resist grabbing ahold of your hand, giving you an anchor to ground yourself as you came down from your high, additionally giving him something to hold on to as he started to reach his own climax. “Where do you want me to come?”

“Inside…” You whispered breathlessly. “Come inside me, Javi. I want it. I need it.”

Javier grunted loudly as his warm ropes of cum painted your walls, his muscles tensing and soft whimpers escaping his mouth as he stilled inside you, panting as if he’d just run a marathon. He surprised you by kissing you softly, then your chin, cheek, and finally your forehead. Much more tender than he previously was. You almost whined at the loss of contact as he laid beside you, immediately lighting a cigarette, offering you one, but you politely declined, claiming you had your own. Instead, you slightly sat up in the bed and pulled out a joint from your bag, smirking to yourself as you knew he’d throw a fit.

You took glances over at Javier as you lit up your joint, resisting the urge to laugh as his eyes widened at the smell, immediately snapping his head towards you with furrowed brows. “Are you really smoking grass in front of me right now?” He scolded. “Seriously? You lied to me.”

You smiled. “What’re gonna do? Handcuff me?”

His eyes darkened, setting down his cigarette in an ashtray and leaned over to hover above you.“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You only replied by taking a puff of your joint and blowing the smoke in his face. You whimpered as he kissed you hard, biting your lip until he broke skin. “You know marijuana is a gateway drug?”

“Oh, shut up!” You chuckled, putting out your joint so you could focus on kissing him. “You really gonna arrest me, Javi?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, just…just don’t do it around me, alright?”

You raised a brow playfully. “Oh, so this wasn’t just a one time thing?”

He didn’t meet your gaze. “I mean, not if you want it to be. I was going to ask if you wanted to, ya know, do this again sometime?” He spoke softly, looking back up at you with a hopeful expression.

You giggled giddily, feeling like a teenager who just got asked out by your crush. The grin that stretched across Javi’s face at your reaction made your heart thump in your chest even faster. “Of course, Javi. I’d love that.”

“Good.” He smiled, kissing you one more time.

You smirked. “Hey, maybe you could use your handcuffs on me next time.”

“Whatever your heart desires, querida.”

fuck sake

#narcos #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña imagine #javier peña smut #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena imagine #javier pena smut

2K notes · View notes

winwintea · 1 month

Text

dreamies as your disney world boyfriend

pairing ▸ boyfriend!dreamies x reader author's note ▸ i am working on the SERIES I PROMISE GUYS... it's just quite long... oops. i needed to channel my inner disney for inspiration for this sorry. the prompt seemed to make more sense in my head so i guess it's just, 'dreamies at disney' now lol. ALSO SOME DISNEY TERMINOLOGY in there i apologize. should make sense but if it's confusing ask me lmfaooo

mark lee

photographer boyfriend obviously

doesn’t even complain about how many photos you want to take

is actually dying inside but hides it away with dad jokes to cope with the pain

“it’s not even noon yet and dis-knees are killing me bro”

will only complain about the heat

“It’s like we’re on the surface on the sun dude… like satan’s armpit. that’s crazzzzyy.”

you couldn’t help but laugh

but then he just KEPT GOING

“it’s like we’re in the inside of a mouth… there are things sticking to things that-”

and you cut him off right there.

can’t help the fact that bro is a D1 yapper.

will not wear mickey ears though no matter how much you beg him to :(

favorite ride: slinky dog dash

least favorite ride: dumbo

huang renjun

the boyfriend that actually disney bounds with you

so y’all are disney bounding as nick wilde and judy hopps from zootopia (renjun’s idea)

chenle took him to shanghai disney once, so he’s a big fan of duffy and friends

oh how disappointed he was when he realized that the mascots don’t exist in WDW

“preferred parking? i would prefer parking to be free, thank you very much.”

mood is very sour upon entering

“i know you’re cold but i did tell you to bring a jacket.” rude.

however once you two start collecting your first character signature he’s locked in

somehow more excited to meet the characters than the kids are? (ur 24. reality check!)

he gets more into it as the day goes on

YOU BET HE’S WEARING THE MICKEY EARS.

although he already had fox ears on to begin with anyways

favorite ride: mickey & minnie’s runaway railway

least favorite ride: seven dwarfs mine train (it was too short)

lee jeno

foodie boyfriend

wants a turkey leg like really badly

“that guy has a turkey leg… sir- um sir- where did you get that turkey leg”

you have to bribe this man with food.

which honestly is okay by you because you just wanna take photos of the food.

"yknow with this ride being 50 years old, you'd think they could've made the boats a little bigger. have to man spread now"

whatever you’re thinking of, that’s literally not what he meant.

he’s an innocent lil guy. (seriously, it just came out wrong.)

holds ur hand on all rides.

let’s you grab onto his muscles arms while you are nervous on the thrill rides

no mickey ears though. (it’s the bow that always throws them off)

favorite ride: rise of the resistance

least favorite ride: teacups

lee haechan

out of pocket boyfriend who will not stfu

“bambi’s the only movie i really couldn’t watch… i could not be as strong as bambi”

after you give him the, “wtf” look he just continues. on.

“cause if my mom died well… there goes my friend group.”

will randomly start singing disney songs in the middle of waiting for a ride.

in those show/ride/attractions he’s the only one clapping and screaming.

especially true for the beauty and the beast sing-a-long attraction, cause yknow he’s gonna scream his lungs out.

yeah he’ll wear mickey ears, but you bought him a goofy hat instead. It was more fitting.

“can’t believe disney made a character after me… should i sue?”

also complains a lot. way too much.

“EPCOT? more like every person comes out tired.”

favorite ride: pirates of the caribbean (he kept making a booty joke over and over again)

least favorite ride: toy story midway mania (bc he lost)

na jaemin

hardcore boyfriend photographer (pt 2) + ‘mom’ boyfriend

man knows all your best angles and where to take photos

“picture, picture over here… yes yes right… in front of the castle angel. oh that’s so pretty… in… in… down… up… okay! smile!”

you two spend like half the day taking photos, jaemin needs to show off his gf ofc.

cares for you the whole entire day, makes sure you drink enough water

aggressively refills your waterbottles every second he gets.

“when it doubt, chug it out! (cue jaemin chugging his own bottle)

he unfortunately will not wear mickey ears. (jaemin i believed in you.)

he’s not the one being taken photos of, so no mickey ears for him.

“princess i don’t wanna hear it. the humidity is good for you. this is like nature’s pore declogging.”

favorite ride: frozen ever after

least favorite ride: none (bc he did everything with u <3)

zhong chenle

in between buying you everything and calling everything too expensive boyfriend

HOW THE FUCK DID HE GET A MEMBERSHIP WITH CLUB 33.

this man pulls you into that sus green building on main street, and your jaw drops.

club 33, is an exclusive, membership only restaurant at disney. it’s like an elite society filled with rich upper class, but at disney. (never been inside not sure how to describe it but oh boy is membership expensive.) the waitlist got so long in 2007, they closed it for 5 years. look it up on wikipedia disney lore goes hard

“i just asked a couple of friends, and they recommended me this place.” boy.

you’re panicking because you’re severely underdressed. (you’re in a jessie costume.)

he reassures you, since you’re at disney, and being dressed like this is normal.

once u have one of the most expensive meals of ur life, chenle drags u to every single thrill ride.

he also buys you a balloon and a bubble wand <3

but for some reason when you arrive at the gift shop he realizes he’s spent a lot.

“okay enough gift shop. look away from the gift shop. this vacation already has us in poverty.”

AND BRO ACTS LIKE THIS THE WHOLE TRIP IM NOT KIDDING.

he’ll buy you a nice meal at one of the restaurants and then…

“we’re not getting churros they’re 5 dollars.”

no mickey ears either why do you even ask

“next time i’ll take u to shanghai, it’s better okay?”

favorite ride: tower of terror

least favorite ride: it’s a small world after all

park jisung

anti-disney everything boyfriend

gets frustrated at everything. cannot read the map.

when he goes on small world…

he severely questions his mental sanity. like actually guys i think he needs help.

“this ride is for kids.”

the ride in question: the barnstormer! a 40 second kiddie roller coaster that has top speeds of up to 25mph!

literally jisung’s 13 reason.

he was screaming his little heart out poor baby.

“I’m not wearing those. Stop.” you do not stop. “Take these off of me right now.”

he wears the ears for half of the day though so a win is a win.

“we’re going to the other park? we’re not going home? there’s 3 more??????”

favorite ride: none

least favorite ride: all

163 notes · View notes

sameschmidtdiffname · 3 months

Text

Repentance

Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader

('Burn' gifs are limited and this was hotter. Sue me.)

Summery: You know the phrase 'sleeping angels?' Yeah, not in this fucking house. Pretty soon it's gonna be you or him, but Billy may have a trick or two up his sleeve to provide a happy ending for you both

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specified genitals for Reader, prequel/standalone fic for 'My Ghost' but not required reading to enjoy this fic, ('My Ghost' may even be enhanced if you read this first, I'll be fr.) Porn with plot (if you are only here for plot, the porn is only in the second half and is easily skippable), snoring, Reader is sleep deprived, non-serious threats of violence, mentions of gun violence, banter, make-up sex, drug usage/alcohol consumption, Dom!Billy, Sub!Reader, Reader goes mostly non-verbal after smoking but their thoughts don't, dumbification, Reader gets spoiled and folds like a lawn chair me too bitch me too, massage turning into sex, doggy style, Reader gets that good dick that knocks their head into a wall, vocal! Billy, dirty talk/talking through it, pet names, possessive sex, mentions of wet dreams, happy ending for everyone :)

Other Works in This Series: 'My Ghost' (Original) • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')

Notes: This was supposed to be a drabble and it was not gonna contain smut. What can I say, when the holy spirit of a short man with big brown eyes compels you, you compel him into your bitch. Anyways, this was inspired by this headcanon written by @g0ry0re0! So if you liked this fic, please thank her as well in the comments and go support her works because this wouldn't exist without it!! They're a fucking great writer as well.

-¤°》◇《°¤-

Have you ever killed a man?

I might.

Listen, I'm not a bitch. I'm not unreasonable even though that was a hell of an opening statement. But if you'd dealt with the shit I've put up with for the past few nights, you would understand.

How can a man who's not even that fucking large in stature make such noise? What the fuck is wrong with him?

I kick him to try and hit a reset button. It works for five minutes, which is long enough for me to begin to relax again. Right before his snoring revs up like the engine of that bike he loves parked on our front lawn. Maybe I'll run him over with it. Be poetic, take him out with his own weapon. Don't the reports show just how deadly motorcycles are compared to regular cars? It's bad for your health.

Okay, I'm assuming that bit because I'm tired, I'm cold, and Billy won't shut the fuck up. It was a little cute when he was just spending the night and we were hardly sleeping. But now that he actually lives here?

Kick. Stop. Wait. Snore.

Goddammit.

Billy has the fucking audacity to greet me with a smile this morning. Sitting at my fucking table, smoking from the ashtray I fucking made him. He should be ashamed to look so good with no shirt on, displaying his chest hair for the whole neighborhood to see as he sits near the open window with coffee set in front of him like he owns the damn place.

"Morning beautiful," he says with a smile. What fucking nerve does he have to sit there and act so happy about while I hate him?

"You snore," I growl. His eyebrows shoot into the air, this son of a bitch has the nerve to widen his smile.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said you fucking snore," I repeat.

"Don't think I've heard that complaint before," he says, shifting in his seat to look at me better. I don't like the way he looks in those sweatpants, grey and hugging the wrong areas for my attitude.

"You haven't dated anyone long enough for someone to complain about it," I mutter under my breath. His eyes focus on the oversized shirt I wear that alright, maybe I stole from the drawer I stash his things in that I now claim as mine. We live together, it's inevitable, fucking fight me. Watching me as I walk into the kitchen, taking the coffee pot off the dock and pouring some into my cup.

"Something I can do to make up for it, shirt thief?" He asks, leaning back in his seat and manspreading, his hands on his horribly thick thighs. "I was wondering where that one went," he mutters to himself, amused.

"Yeah. See a fucking doctor."

It's day five. I'm genuinely considering homicide.

Dear God, or Allah, or whoever you are. If I shouldn't suffocate this man, give me a sign.

...does the short snore that escapes Billy's mouth count?

It doesn't matter what I do. If I turn him onto his side, if I kick him, if I shove ear buds in and blast whatever music I can sleep to at max volume, he's louder and I'm on my last straw. It's him or me.

"William," I say, poking my head up from the old pillow.

No response.

Maybe it's safe.

Maybe he's dead.

Maybe he'll stay quiet.

I lay my head down once more.

"...what?"

"You fucking snore."

"I'm sorry baby," he slurs in half baked consciousness, turning to wrap his arm around my waist as he presses hot, open mouthed kisses to the back of my neck. "Can I make it up to you?"

"Yeah, let me sleep."

"Sleep is for the weak."

I am weak. I am very, very weak.

"Put your dick away."

"It isn't out."

"I can still feel it."

With a grumble and his face buried in my hair, he abandons his quest in favor of returning to whatever dreams make him keep me up at night. And I am so close to joining him when he starts back up hardly two minutes later. Right in my ear.

With a final huff, I tear the blanket off of him and stomp my bleary eyed way to the living room. Fucker is too sleepy to even notice. Fuck him.

I'm not amused when I wake up in the ungodly hours of the morning sprawled on the couch, Billy's foot in my face as early morning light peaks through the shitty blinds.

"You followed me," I groan, my voice rough with sleep.

"I followed blanket," he slurs.

"It's mine."

"I was cold."

"You snore."

"I've offered consolation, you should take it."

"William, have you ever shot a man?" I ask, bolting upright as I wipe the crust from my eyes.

"Fucking what?"

"Have you ever shot a man?" I repeat slowly, properly enunciating each word.

Billy's eyes dart to the side, then back to me, wide but still tinted from sleep.

"...no?"

"I've considered it," I tell him. "There's a gun in my nightstand. And if I don't get some sleep soon, I'm going to use it. I haven't before, but I can't imagine it's hard."

Billy presses his lips together in a thin line, knowing I'm not serious but that I'm on the last straw.

"... should I go back to bed?"

"I can go back to bed," I say. "You can stay on the couch."

"That's a great idea."

"I'll take the blanket."

"You do that."

It's only two hours later when I'm woken by the alarm, and the smell of sausage is fresh on the air. Even if it was short, the sleep in solitude feels refreshing, no interruptions from Yellowstone volcano on the other side.

When I wander into the kitchen he's in the midst of finishing his preparations for a feast. And by feast I mean a fuck load of eggs with sriracha on top and plenty of sausages to go with it. There's also a pile of toast, the bottle of homemade cinnamon sugar next to the stick of butter besides it.

"Morning beautiful," Billy tries carefully, eyeing me as I lean against the hallway doorframe. "Coffee's on the table."

Whatever I said earlier- which may or may not be blurry to me at this point -has clearly changed his attitude. He's even set out the hazellenut creamer for me, a treat.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks, setting a heaping plate in front of me. I don't know how to tell him I'm too sleepy to eat.

"Better," I say. I take a slice of cinnamon covered toast, trying to convince my stomach to wake up. "Kinda cold, though."

He smiles softly at that, setting down his own plate to join me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I return the smile, taking a small bite of the corner of my toast. He takes a sip of coffee and brushes his foot against mine under the table. The silence is sweet, apart from the radio just ever so quietly playing in the background to add to the calm morning atmosphere Billy has created for me. His hair is ruffled from sleep, his hand nervously fiddling with the thin chain around his neck. He glances at me, smiles apprehensively, then breaks the silence.

"Do you actually own a gun?" He asks, trying so hard to sound casual.

My brows furrow before I realize what he's referencing, letting out a loud laugh and almost dropping my toast in the process.

"I'm not gonna shoot you, Billy," I laugh, trying so hard to maintain my composure.

"Last night you called me William. I did not like that," he laughs nervously.

"William, I will not shoot you."

"My mother calls me that, I don't want you and my mom calling me the same name."

"Willy-"

"Fuck you," he groans, laughing. "You're terrifying."

"When I don't sleep," I add for him. He nods, eyes wide and brows raising in agreement. "Did you seriously make breakfast because you were worried I owned a gun?"

"When you meet the devil, you meet demands," he says. I kick at his foot playfully, giggling.

"The devil doesn't really eat breakfast."

"I know, I packed lunch too."

Fuck free will, I should've done the gun thing a long time ago. When I walk back into the ramshack house that evening fresh off my shift, Billy has dinner, a bowl and a bath prepared for me upon my return.

"I did not take your comments seriously and I'm sorry," he says genuinely, taking my coat. "I should have and you have suffered. Consider this repentance."

"Repentance is nice. You hide the gun too while you were at it?" I ask.

"I'm not answering that."

Billy may be many things, and a cook is one of them. It's simple, fresh, and nice after a long day. The backrub I'm getting while I eat makes the flavors even sweeter.

"I feel an urge to clarify my threat was not serious," I joke between bites, taking a sip of the wine Billy had run out and gotten special for the night.

"I'm well aware, but this is overdue anyways," he says softly. "You're mine and you deserve nice nights." He presses a warm kiss to the spot just under my ear, making me blush. "My baby needs spoiled."

"Well, I certainly feel spoiled," I say contently, finishing the last bite. I lean back in my chair, letting him explore my neck as his gentle hands work their way through my many knots, whispering sweet nothings in my ear all the while.

"Wait until I tell you what kinds of oils I slipped in your bath as well," he whispers in my ear.

If this is repentance, he should snore more often.

I'm stoned, zoned, and completely naked across the bed as Billy carefully massages my legs, phone propped on a spare pillow beside my head as I stare blankly at the show in front of me.

His hands are slick with oil, gliding across my skin with ease as he works at a knot on the back of my calf.

"I've been ignoring you too much," he muses, his voice soft and loving as his thumbs work in small circles. "You're much too tense for my taste."

I am too stupid to respond with English. I will tell him later about the day I've had at work, running around for fifteen different customers and a boss I can hardly stand. But for now a low moan will do, my mind too blurry from substance use and the stimulation that makes me dizzy with want.

"Does that feel good?" Billy asks, pressing a small kiss against my shin. I moan again, eyes fluttering shut. "Wanna make sure my baby sleeps well tonight."

Oh, I'll sleep phenomenally.

His hands abandon me, searching for the bottle of lavender scented oil, coating his hands before reaching for the back of my thighs, right below the curve of my ass.

"How's the show?" He asks me, digging deeply into my tissue in a way that makes me moan, arching my back subconsciously as the stimulation takes over my thoughts. "That good?" He asks, voice deep as he chuckles.

"Very good," I confirm, my voice soft against the freshly washed bedsheets. I have never said a bad thing about this man. I would never curse the provider of relaxation. Any claims otherwise are false and slandering against me and my man.

"You're grinding against the bed, you realize that, right?" Billy asks bemused, his thumbs drawing deep circles against the inside of my thighs, making me gasp in want. "There something else you want?"

Whatever strain he has given me has made me nonverbal, but the squeak I let out is answer enough. For me, anyways.

"I need words, baby. Words. Vague noises are not consent," he says softly.

"Motherfucker that noise was not vague," I snap, lifting my head up briefly before resuming my mindless appreciation against the bed. Billy's laugh echoes throughout the room, his hand lightly smacking my ass before reaching for the small towel and bottle of lube on the nightstand, wiping off his hands before squeezing a generous dollop onto two digits.

His fingers press against my entrance slowly, coating it with the thick, cold lube, making me squirm and gasp against him, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"I'm gonna start off slow, okay baby?" He says gently, still stroking my entrance as he positions himself above me. "You let me know if you want me to change something."

I moan in understanding, but it's not enough for him. His voice is low and rumbling by my ear, his lips teasing at my shoulder.

"Say yes if you understand," he says softly, breath hot against my ear.

"Yes," I say just as soft.

"Good," he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my neck. "Good baby."

His cock slowly sinks inside of me, the pot from earlier making the sensations deeper and more vibrant as I feel the sweet stretch even at the top of my head. Billy moves slow, taking his time to enter me as though we had all the time in the world. I can't help but pant against the bed, whining for more intelligibly as Billy sheethes himself to the hilt, pressing himself against my g-spot just perfectly at this angle, no real effort needed when I'm like this. My eyes roll at the touch, my hips bucking in uneven, stupid rhythms against him as he remains still inside of me. Fuck it, he could snore in my ear right now and I'd let him.

Billy's voice is breathy, moaning as he brushes my hair with his hand. "Let me know when you want me to move," he moans in my ear.

"I am," I whine. "Fuck me."

He chuckles against me, his voice rough as he continues in a slow, even rhythm. "You don't want to go slow first?" He asks, pressing a kiss to my spine as he slowly slides against my spot again, his cock making me clench tightly around him.

"Uh uh," I moan, still trying to buck rapidly against him. "Want more."

"You usually get so overstimulated if I start fast at this angle," he teases, ignoring the pace of my hips in favor of his. "Can't even finish fucking you if I start out fast, you're so sensitive by the end."

That's a lie. Terrible lie. Slander.

"Do you really want me to go fast?" He asks softly, one hand finding my hip to guide me to a better rhythm.

"Motherfucker, yes," I whine, lifting my head. He chuckles, much to my annoyance. "Fuck me like you own me."

At that he grabs my hips, slamming me against his base before he begins to violently abuse my hole, fucking directly into my g-spot and never missing once as he fucks me hard enough to make the bed slam into the wall, making a painting rattle on the wall behind us.

"Jesus- fuck- wait!" I cry, my hips subconsciously trying to escape his abuse while I clench around him, silently begging for more.

He slows his pace once more, pressing such soft, sweet kisses to my spine as he speaks. "See? You can't handle it like that. You're half fucked out already and that wasn't even five seconds."

He's absolutely right and I should listen to him more. How wise is my man.

"If I was really fucking you like I owned you," he says lowly between slow, long thrusts, his hands guiding my hips gently as I whimper with each move like the bitch I am. "I'd pick the pace. But here you are, telling me what to do and changing your mind the moment I give it to you. So indecisive is my baby." Very indecisive. Go fast again. "And I'll do whatever you want like a good man should."

I will stay home with the kids. I will scrub my permanently stained linoleum floor until it shines like the top of the Chrysler building. I will spend my days barefoot and pregnant if he so requests of me. In Jesus's name, Amen.

Billy moves slow and purposefully against me, grinding his cock and moaning in my ear while he watches me, smacking my ass here and there when he wants to watch it bounce against his hips.

"So pretty," he moans. "Even prettier when you cum. Is there something I can do to help?"

I whine against the bed, feeling edged and whoreish with his thick dick pulsing inside of me, fucking me into blind submission and making me willing to do anything he says.

"Would someone like for me to go faster?" He coos sweetly, slightly speeding up his tempo as he slams more gently into my spot. "Does my baby wanna get fucked?"

I nod stupidly, whining and huffing as he slowly continues to gain speed.

"You gonna cum around me? Take my cock real nice and fast?" He asks, smacking my ass once more. I clench upon impact, making him do it again and again until he laughs.

"Cum in me," I moan. All care has been thrown out the window, my head scrambled and vision blind.

"Yeah? You want that?" He teases. His balls smack loudly against my front, offering additional stimulation and making my eyes roll. "Looks like you're drooling over it." Motherfucker I am, and?

"I'm gonna fuck you so good you sleep for days, sweetheart," he moans in my ear, slamming into me hard enough to make me squeal. "Kept dreaming about you for the past week. Kept getting all nice and hard only to have you wake me up before I could fuck you. Come to find out I was keeping my poor baby up, being my own cockblock."

His cock pistons in and out of me at impressive speed, one of his hands slamming against the bars of the metal headboard to offer him stability while he fucks me, the bed ramming against the wall so loudly it's all I can hear besides him. I think the painting fell.

"Now we can both sleep better at night. My balls empty, your ass nice and full. Think I'll do it again tomorrow," he muses, slamming me against the bed, pushing me higher. "And again." And higher. "And again." Until the top of my head pounds against the ceiling. "Till the fucken cows come home."

Moo, bitch. Moo.

With a pathetic scream, hardly able to make any noise due to the violent climax, I cry his name as I clench around him. His dick pounds my head into the wall absuively as he chants my name like it's the only word ever known to him, his voice raising in volume until he's shouting it so clear it raises above the rocking of the bed, loud enough surely for the neighbors to hear. I'm hardly even aware of when he cums, or really anything at this point, his dick pulsing within me and fucking his admittedly larger than usual load into me so deep you'd think there'd be no chance of it to escape. I'm only aware he came when his cock finally softens, our cum dripping and pooling underneath of me in a mixed puddle when he slips out with a small whimper, his breath so heavy and wheezing I'm almost scared he'll pass out on top of me.

"Wanna go again?" He jokes, his voice worryingly pathetic as he tries to laugh, sounding more like a death rattle than anything. All I respond with is a shaky thumbs down, my head spinning from the possible concussion I may genuinely have.

It's an effective sleep method. Works wonders for both of us.

▪︎》◇《▪︎

After he slips out of the house one winter morning with my gun tucked in the back of his jeans, I can't tell you how much I'd give to hear him snore against our lavender scented bed one last time, feeling his arms that are now ash and bones on the floor of a gas station just outside of town. My only company now being his ghost echoing his bright laughter down the darkened halls of what was once our home.

You like my ending bbgirl? Special just for youuu.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

Masterlist

#josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #billy burn 2019 #billy burn x you #billy x reader #billy burn #billy josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson billy #josh hutcherson burn #josh hutcherson burn 2019 #burn movie 2019 #burn 2019 #josh hutcherson x you #josh hutcherson x reader #jhutch #josh hutcherson imagine #billy burn imagine

216 notes · View notes

holybibly · 3 months

Note

Hello~~ I've previously asked anonymously but I wanna send pics and gifs, so I'm uncovering my identity batman style to lose my mind over Seonghwa 🤭🫣

Like what?? 😭😭

This man man makes me lose my mind so bad, like every picture I see of him just flips a switch in my brain and suddenly *I'm* the rabid wolf chasing after a pretty bunny

I feel like he'd maybe try to be really dominant at first but would so easily let himself be flipped and ruined, I wanna blow this man's mind fr

This picture even has his hands in the perfect position to tie them up ahsjshshsj someone take my internet away please 😭😭

Firstly, hi baby, good to see you. Secondly, should I even mention that I have been drooling over him on a daily basis? God, I think the Ateez have ruined my mind just a little bit. Third, I'm going to go and make that damn fic with the cute hybrid Hwa. So we can all (I really hope) quench our thirst for the whining, submissive, and subservient Seonghwa. God, I fucking need this. I am needy and not ashamed.

In the meantime, I give you this. Have fun, my brave bunny.

"God, why must you be so beautiful? Is that fair?" You coo, running your thumb over the sugary brown flesh of his nipple. He twitches at the touch—too sensitive. "Too beautiful, annoying."

Seonghwa's arms are lifted and tied to the bed frame with silk ribbons, leaving him helpless and writhing as you deny him his second orgasm of the night, bringing him to the brink of pleasure before you withdraw. He lets out a soft, needy whimper as he is unable to make any other sounds.

He looks lost in his pleasure, his pupils dilating so that only a small ring of iris can be seen, his sensuous lips parted, and his chest rising and falling in small breathless sighs.

"Oh, darling, you sound so anxious. Don't you want to cum already, my beautiful boy?" Your teasing elicits another moan from Seonghwa as you delicately run your fingernail along the bulging vein on his cock. He twitches in response.

Overstimulated, Seonghwa closes his big, shining eyes and pushes his hips into your hand, hoping to feel some kind of friction. You chuckle weakly and lower yourself to kiss his beautiful, sensitive cock. As you blow on his dripping, reddened head, you hear another pitiful whimper from him.

Teasing him is one of your favourite things to do in the whole of the world. He melts so easily and submits to the sweet torture. It is too beautiful to ignore. You just want to eat him whole. Sue you for that.

Your soft tongue traces the same vein as your long fingernail did a few moments ago; pre-cum flows freely down his shaft, and you lap it up hungrily. Sweet. Covering his cock completely with your lips, you slowly lower your head down, a movement that you know will drive him crazy, but it's not enough to make him come. This only serves to make Seonghwa even more desperate.

"Please, I can't stand it anymore." He's got this wonderful voice; you could listen to it for hours when he's at his peak.

He lifts his hips, begging you to take him deeper into your hot, wet mouth, but instead he gets slapped lightly. Forcing him to stay still under your care, your hands rest on his hips. In an agonisingly slow motion, you slide down the length of his cock until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone. You simply suck him into your mouth, warming him up and trying not to add any extra stimulation with your tongue.

His high is rising again. You can feel the tension in his lithe, elegant body. The sound of his lingering, unsatisfied moans is suspiciously quiet as he tries to hold himself back. Admiring his delicious, high-pitched moan of utter frustration, you remove your lips from his cock with a pop.

"My sweet, handsome boy." You're just mocking him; it's a little sadistic of you, but who allowed Seonghwa to be so handsome? All your actions are completely justified. "You've been such a good boy to me, Hwa. Are you ready for your reward?"

He nods feverishly; his long hair is spread all over the pillow, and he looks so wonderful in your eyes. You reach out and untie his hands, kissing his chest on the way and leaving a couple of hickeys.

"Seonghwa, this is your wish, isn't it? I need words, my beautiful." You whisper in his ear as you untie his numb hands.

"Yes, I do... I really want my reward." He breathes out.

"What do you need, baby? Tell me what your wish is." He's so unbelievably cute when he's winded. He pauses for a second, thinking about what he wants, and you gently rub his wrists where they were bound with the silk.

"I want you so badly, please." He pulls you by your hips so that you straddle him, gently stroking your curves with his graceful, thin palms. Seonghwa reaches up to kiss you, his plump, wet lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss before you feel his cock enter you.

You let him do whatever he wants to you, but you lean down and put your hands on his shoulders to help balance you, whispering again.

"Come on, my beauty, fuck me good."

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez x reader

162 notes · View notes

meowzfordayz · 1 year

Text

gifting them a handmade sweater — hashira men

Author’s Note: tried to write these a lil silly, a tad awkward, and very sweet. 🥰

gifting them a handmade sweater — hashira men

Word Count: ~1,700

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: This may be a silly request. I decided to knit my boyfriend a sweater and like I tried my best but when I gave it to him he thought I bought it and went on about how I should return it because it looked awful and was laughing. I didn’t have the heart to say I did it and it shattered my heart 🥲Is it possible you could write a lil something of how the hashira men react to an f reader giving them a sweater they made for them? I feel silly requesting something so dorky.

~faqs~

Will it fit? is Gyomei’s first concern as his fingers peruse the fuzzy material shoved shyly into his awaiting hands

—HEHEHE 😏

—Will it fit? 😏😏

—Why do I always get struck by Horny Cupid™ whenever I hc for Gyomei? 🥲

—The man’s a stud 😏😏😏

—That’s why 😌

—Anyway

He doesn’t recall you asking to take his measurements

But then he remembers how often you borrow his clothes

#you don’t need to ask

#it’s OUR closet tyvm 😃

“What’s the occasion?” he questions softly, slipping off his current shirt in favor of trying on his new sweater

—HELLO ABS 😳🫠

—Nothing wrong w/ your partner undressing in front of you, nothing at all 🫢

“Y’know you can wear it over a shirt, right?”

So sue you if you’re suddenly a tad breathless 😅

Gyomei smirks at the hitch in your voice

He’s onto us you 😵‍💫

“I thought you’d be more appreciative of my method.” 😎

—Hrr 🥵

“Does it fit?”

“You tell me,” he chuckles, “Does it look okay? I’m not bursting at the seams?”

*cue unapologetic glance downward*

“N-nope, not bursting at the seams.” 🙃

“I’ll wear it,” he promptly answers your silently hovering question, “I’m honored by the time and effort you put into this gift. Thank you.”

“How honored?” you squeak

“Extremely,” as he reaches for your face, his mouth curving into a gentle smile as you settle your jaw into his cupped palms, “You are simply the best.”

He kisses your nose knowing it’ll make you giggle ☺️

“I can’t accept this.”

Help this man

Obanai is already a tomato 🍅

Say something nice, and he might just squirt 😃

“What is that supposed to mean?” you huff, eyes narrowed at his immediate rejection of your hard work

“I don’t deserve it!” ☹️

“The hell you don’t deserve? Is my effort not worthy of your wear? Am I not worthy of you?”

You don’t mean to play dirty or harshly, but c’mon

Immediate rejection of a gift stings, yanno? 😕

“No, no, no, your effort is more than worthy! Too worthy! I just-”

Obanai shuts up, grabs the sweater, and tugs it over his head in one only slightly tangled motion

“CnIhvesumhep?” comes his garbled voice from somewhere inside the sweater

Rolling your eyes, you guide the collar around the top of his head, exasperated smile tugging at the corner of your mouth when his head finally pops through

“I graciously accept your gift,” he mumbles 😅

“Yeah?” you smirk, arms crossing, “That was so gracious of you.”

Pouting, he flicks your forehead faster than you can step back, cheeks dusted rose as he murmurs, “I’m working on it.” 🥺

You vow then and there to shower your sheepish, brilliant man in more gifts, more often

Nothing like a lil exposure therapy to quicken his progress 😇

(ofc, you don’t go too overboard, bc respecting his boundaries and comfort is foremost)

“I love it!” Kyojuro declares, dazzling grin on his face, eyes wide with delight as he hugs the sweater to his chest ❤️‍🔥

“You haven’t even tried it on!” you giggle, shoving playfully at his bicep, “If it doesn’t fit, then I can make adjustments.”

“If it is too small for me, then you are welcome to keep it for yourself, and I will commission you to make me a bigger, matching one!”

You blink once, twice

He really likes it that much?

“Is this you being generous, or sincere?” you ask, not unkindly

“I am being both!”

Damn his beautiful, brain-slowing smile 😭

What were you about to say? 🙃

“What if it’s too big?”

“Then I will be all the more cozy, and I will still commission you to make yourself a matching, oversized sweater!”

“If you’re so interested in wearing matching clothes, then you could just say so,” you snort, cheeks warming at the sight of Kyojuro’s skin peeking out from under his shirt 🫢

(bc he did the whole arms-raising-to-put-on-the-sweater-and-oop-there’s-his-sexy-midriff thing)

“I am interested in supporting you and your creative ventures!” striking a pose, “This might be the most comfortable sweater I have ever owned!” 🤗

“You’re exaggerating.” 🥴

“Perhaps,” he admits, closing the gap between your skepticism and his enthusiasm, lips planted firmly on your forehead, “But I meant it when I said I love it, and it fits perfectly fine.” 🥰

“Is this homemade?” he demands

… 😬

“Yes, Sanemi.”

“I can tell.”

Oof 🥲

But he puts it on faster than your embarrassment can react

“It fits,” in his typical gruff-w/-hint-of-pride/affection tone

—Truth be told, he didn’t expect it to fit 💀

He makes sure to wear it at least once a week

Informs you about all the compliments it receives

(you can trust he isn’t lying bc he gets flustered and grumpy)

Doesn’t tell you about how he ~mildly threatens anyone who dares to even glance at it oddly 😃

Maybe it’s not his favorite sweater, but you’re his favorite person 💞

Sanemi’d never tell you this lest you took advantage, but: he’d swap out his entire wardrobe (and that includes his expensive items) for clothes handmade by you and only you 🥺

If you so desired to make him an entire new wardrobe, that is 😆

#he’d pay you, ofc #and he’d only miss his grey sweatpants ~a lil 😏 #emphasis on grey sweatpants 😏

—I need help

“I have a gift for you too,” Muichiro smiles, ears pink, nose crinkled happily

“Oh?”

“It’s not much,” as he wiggles into the sweater, “But it reminded me of you,” rushing off to fetch his present

“Tada!” he returns moments later, a mug cradled carefully against his chest, “I found it at a thrift shop.” 😁

Its coloring reminds you of the ocean after a storm, large and tall with a thick handle, textured sides providing dimension and uniqueness 🌊

“I thought you said we didn’t need more mugs,” you manage to mumble, cheeks already beginning to hurt from how widely you’re smiling 🥺🥰

“We don’t,” he shrugs, entirely unbothered, “But I’ll always need your happiness, and this makes you happy.”

It does 💓

—As a mug hoarder, Muichiro’s hcs are only ~very self indulgent of me 🤪

“You haven’t told me what you think about my gift to you!”

“It’s a bit tight around the shoulders, but the overall construction is phenomenal.” 👌

“I can adjust it.” 😅

“Yes please. I’ll wear it plenty if it fits properly.” 👍

Forwardness may not feel uber romantic, but well meaning honesty warms your heart all the same 😌

“It’s not holiday season,” Giyuu tilts his head, brow furrowed 🤨

“Are you calling it ugly?” you scowl, lips pursed, “Sweaters aren’t specifically for the holidays, Giyuu, they’re good for layering and style,” eyes narrowing, “Although perhaps the issue here is your overall lack of style?” 😐

“I’m not calling it ugly,” he deadpans, lump in his throat when he notices how shiny your eyes are, “Are you going to cry?” 😳

“NO.” 😖😢

“I’m not calling it ugly!” more urgent now, his expression softening as cool fingers brush gently against your cheek, “I suppose I do lack… style,” gruff tone coaxing a watery smile from you, “Will I regret asking for your expertise?” 😶🫶

“Maaaybe,” you finally crack an exuberant grin, turning your head to press a tender kiss into his palm, “There are a lot of rules.” 😃

“A lot of…” doing his best to conceal his noticeable grimace, “Rules?”

“There’re three main facets of fashion: comfort, utility, and just because.”

“Just because?” 🤔

—Confused Giyuu is my fave Giyuu teehee 😇

—Also: take my fashion ~advice w/ a grain of salt

—My main concern is color coordination

—Beyond that, I’m (almost) as oblivious/do-not-care as Giyuu 😂

“Sweatshirt and sweatpants combo? Comfort. Raincoat and rain boots when it’s raining? Utility. Athletic gear while working out? Utility. The incredible sweater I painstakingly made for you? Comfort and just because.”

Amusement flickers in his gaze as understanding slowly dawns 👀

“And what about pajamas?”

“Comfort and utility.”

“And,” his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, “Nude?” 🫢

“All three,” you wink, “Especially if it involves both of us in bed.”

Giyuu may lack style, but he does not lack the ability to end up in bed—nude—w/ you 😵‍💫😈😉

Tengen: Does it light up? 🧐

Suma: It’s gorgeous! 😍 *squeals excitedly*

You: Excuse me? 😐

Tengen: *pondering* Can you add glitter? 🤔

Hina: Tengen… 😕

Tengen: Don’t get me wrong! I love the design, and the fit is comfortable, but-

Makio: Did you not notice the interwoven tinsel yarn?

Tengen: *huffs* Is that what’s so itchy? 😒

You: TENGEN. 😑

Tengen: *pouts* I have sensitive breasts. 😞

You: *scowling* So wear a damn shirt underneath it.

Tengen: *wistful sigh* But then your love and affection won’t directly touch my skin. 🥺

Suma: Ooh babe, could you make me one next? ☺️ *bambi eyes*

Makio: Hold up, ME next! 😁 *gripping your hand*

Hina: *patiently* I’d love one too, please and thank you. 😇

Tengen: One of you could have mine, and then I could get a new one that doesn’t irritate my br-

Everyone sans Tengen: TENGEN! 😡

Hina: Be grateful, not greedy!

Makio: Shut up about your breasts.

Suma: I’ll take yours, and give it the appreciation and attention it deserves!

Tengen: *thoroughly berated* Thank you [y/n], I apologize for my insensitivity and selfishness. 😓

You: *amused* *Makio is tucked into your left side* *Suma into your right* Is it truly that itchy?

Tengen: *quietly* No.

You: I’ll make sweaters as your birthday gifts, does that seem fair enough? 💝

Makio: *thinking hard* Fine.

Suma: *wetly smooches your cheek* Perfect! Thank you!

Hina: If you wouldn’t mind teaching me, then I’d be content to make my own. *eyeing Makio, Suma, and Tengen* You already have your hands full, after all. 😝

You: *giggling* *meanwhile, the aforementioned trio glare @ Hina* It’d be my pleasure. 🫶

Tengen: Alright, alright, group hug! 😤

You: *cooing* Aww, do you feel left o-

Tengen: *proceeds to squish you, Hina, Makio, and Suma into a gigantic hug* *aka he most certainly does feel left out* 🙄💗

#hashira x reader #headcanons #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #himejima gyomei #gyomei x reader #iguro obanai #obanai x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #tokito muichiro #muichiro x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #uzui tengen #tengen x reader

1K notes · View notes

psychewritesbs · 8 months

Text

Chapter 236: Go South—JJK is generational

Gosh. Can we pleeeease just like... have a moment of silence for the one and only...THE Man, Gojo Satoru.

Ok, time's up.

Moving on.

Word vomit under the cut.

The process of reading this chapter was a very interesting one this week because the fandom got really noisy as soon as the leaks dropped.

Between allegations of bad writing and the utter sense of grief Gojo fans were expressing, it was quite the 💩 storm.

And then the actual scanlations started dropping, and little by little they replaced most of the noise with the utter sense of calm and peace and satisfaction that Gojo felt in his last moments in this plane of existence.

I gotta say that I just absolutely loved how Gege depicted those emotions (outside of Gojo's "dream") through shots of the devastated Shinjuku district.

The remnants of the battle of The Strongest, as if the landscape and the buildings themselves represented the end of an era, the devastation of the structure of Jujutsu society itself.

After all, as The Strongest sorcerer in the modern era, Gojo represented the very system he was trying to destroy.

Gege loves his irony.

Now, I would normally say that the words in the speech bubbles are superfluous because Gege creates such a beautiful atmosphere through the setting alone. But it is the words themselves that re-contextualize not just the battle, but also shed more light on Sukuna's interest in Megumi, which I feel we haven't seen the extent of what he had in mind.

Now I'm hoping this isn't a dream

Listen, I must admit I've never cared for Gojo.

I don't hate him, I don't love him, I simply never really cared for him.

That, of course, changed with this chapter.

And it is perhaps Gojo's death that really solidified in my mind the idea that one of the underlying themes in jjk is... dun dun dun... DEATH.

Yeah, I know. Sue me, I'm late to the party lmao.

But it's not just death itself that is a theme, but rather the face we put on when death comes knocking at the door.

There aren't many things that we can be certain of in this life, but death is one of them. So how we confront death and our mortality shapes the sense of self.

I know a lot of people were dissatisfied with the transition from 235 to 236 and Gege not showing how/when Gojo got slashed in half, but I find the abrupt transition makes sense, and I even dare say was... quite poetic.

For one, now knowing that Gojo knew Sukuna was holding back, a lot of incidents throughout the battle are given new meaning. Like that look of confidence on Gojo's face as he "thinks" he's finally managed to "get through" to Sukuna.

So I have to say that I loved that Gege starts the chapter with Gojo becoming aware that he has died or is dying.

In other words, Sukuna's attack was so sudden that Gojo's next moment of awareness as "Gojo Satoru" is in what we would normally think of as "the light at the end of the tunnel" where he is greeted by people who were of significance to him in his youth.

And can we please just talk about how Geto is the first person he sees when he becomes aware that he is dying?

Please. This is fucking poetry!

Insert keyboard smash.

Screaming in jjk.

Go South

I literally lack the words to explain why I love this whole chapter so much. Which is a lot to say because I am about to word vomit about it. But like...

Again, hindsight is 20/20.

I always thought of the panel above as Geto being jealous of Gojo surpassing him in strength but, in retrospect, I think Geto's disappointment had more to do with Gojo's sense of self over-identifying with the title "the strongest" and how that made him harder to relate to, which is one of the main themes in this chapter. I'll come back to this in a sec.

But first...

Quick depth psych segway. I think I've said this before, but it bears repeating again that an overwhelming sense of self is all ego. There's nothing wrong with ego per se.

The problem is that an over-identification with ego means inherent separateness because, as an organ of the psyche, the ego sense of self is what gives us a separate identity from the collective.

On the other hand, soul/heart (another organ in the psyche) is the principle of relatedness--love, the single energy that can bring us all together as a collective.

But as we already know, the stronger the sorcerer, the more overwhelming the sense of self.

Unfortunately, because an overwhelming sense of self = separateness, this also means the person in question can't relate to others.

And is this not thematically perfect for a sorcerer whose perfected cursed technique was meant to render others unable to "reach him"?

In other words, Gojo saw himself as separate (because he was "The Strongest") and that made it harder for him to relate to others, but only because he self-identified as "The Strongest".

Infinity ∞, in this sense, is also about the self-fulfilling prophecy Gojo was stuck playing out in his life in regards to seeing himself as "The Strongest".

But like a serpent eating its own tail, Gojo came back full circle, and in the moments before his death, learned that what really mattered to him was not strength for the sake of strength, but rather the connections he had fostered with others.

PLEASE. GEGE. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKING FUCK?!!!!!!!!!!!

To bring it back to "Satoru became 'The Strongest'"...

I just loved so much that seeing Geto as soon as he becomes aware he's died felt like an encounter that meant Gojo had returned to the person he was before he self-identified as "The Strongest".

But more importantly, Gojo's imagination of himself as back when he was young also speaks both to how much he cherished that period of his life, and to how he was emotionally frozen in time due to his encounter with Toji.

It makes me wonder whether Gojo was afraid of dying alone when Toji almost killed him. So it's almost like what he took away from that battle was that he was always alone, and so he sought to push others away.

The kicker is that he simultaneously feared his existential isolation and yet craved the very source of his fear--human relations.

But in choosing self-preservation, he was a selfish to the very end.

What an idiot (tragically affectionate).

Anyways. How much of this is hc? Someone tell me please 😂. I feel like I went off the deep end in the last few paragraphs.

Like everyone else in this fandom I've lost all objectivity when it comes to Gojo because his departure from the story was truly one of the most heartbreaking moments in jjk.

I understand people's complaints about the "execution," but I think the world-wide phenomena that Gojo's death has spurred speaks to Gege's ability to elicit deeply archetypal emotional responses as a story teller.

With Gojo's death, a part of our own psyche too has died. And what's most significant about this death is that it was, true to Gojo's character, "something that needed to die because it represented the very thing it sought to destroy."

And this would be why I love Gege's writing.

A fitting way for Gojo to go out

I know not everyone agrees, but I really appreciated that he was satisfied and at peace in the very end.

He got his cake (battle to death with Sukuna) and got to eat it too (reconnected with his loved ones).

Sukuna

But we can't talk about Gojo without talking about Sukuna as the one who liberated Gojo from the burden of his existential isolation.

Sukuna gave Gojo a fun battle, but if it weren't because Sukuna figured out how to cut through Gojo's metaphorical defenses by learning to cut through space-time itself--the very fabric of reality, Gojo might not have found his humanity once again.

The outcome of this battle spells out in no uncertain terms how dire the situation is as Sukuna has proven himself to be the uncontested "Strongest".

But in a sense, the end is a new beginning, and this time, there is no light at the end of the tunnel.

JJK is generational

I get the feeling that everyone will remember where they were when this panel dropped.

I was in bed. It was 6 am and Tasokare, my miniature panther, was demanding attention.

A moot was on the way to the gym. They never made it out of the house after seeing the panel.

Another moot was completely avoiding Twitter to avoid leaks, but her brother, who does not even read jjk, saw the panel on Facebook and showed it to her.

Yet another moot was on vacation at the beach.

JJK is generational like that and there's just so much more I can say about this chapter and its implications (like the idea that Sukuna can now cut through space-time, why?! what does he want to get out of this ability?), but I just don't even know what more I can say right now.

Anyways, thanks for reading. I'm looking forward to any thoughts you might have. Just a heads up, I'm very, very slow at replying.

#jjk ch 236 #god I love jujutsu kaisen

256 notes · View notes

oonajaeadira · 1 year

Text

Nadie Espera un Milagro (No One Expects a Miracle)

Fandom: Narcos / Javier Peña

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Reader: Sassy, confident, American ex-pat female who finds her parents a little tedious and enjoys both her independence and her job as a high-level admin at the DEA. No physical descriptions, no use of y/n.

Rating: T

Warnings: era-”appropriate” behavior of men towards women in the workplace (but a lot better than it was, Steve and Javi are actually pretty respectful). Overbearing and slightly infantilizing parents. Author doesn’t know anything about politics or law enforcement.

Summary: When your parents come to visit you at your job in Bogotá, you figure it’s just easier to paint a picture that will put them at ease. The idea is simple. The plan is flawed. The execution is just fluff.

A/N: Written for my Year of Tropes (part of @yearofcreation2023) Fake dating seemed like an easy trope for a busy month, which is why I chose it for February. (Whoops. Happy April!) With all of these tropes I like to challenge myself a little and I feel like the character choice alone for this one was challenge enough for me. Not only do I not know anything about politics and law enforcement, I haven’t written Javier much. And, of all the boys I do write, I feel like he’d be the least likely candidate to participate in and fall for fake dating, so I had to figure out how to make it believable for myself. Which is why there’s more plot than I intended and reader ended up with some backstory. This is season 2 Javi, obviously not canon, and maybe a bit too soft, so sue me for yearning. Yes, reader’s parents are cartoon versions of my own parents, why do you ask?

“Well hey there, sunshine,” a wisp of smoke accompanies Steve’s greeting as he leans back in his chair and crosses his long legs at the ankle to the side of his desk, leaning over momentarily to stub the cigarette out into a shared ashtray. “We don’t often get the pleasure of a visit–looks like you remember we exist.”

“Ha ha. I could say the same about you. Did you boys finally get your morals whipped into shape, or are you just over the thrill of making me break the law for you every other week?”

There’s a halt in the clack clack clack of Javier’s typewriter as he turns at the sound of your voice. Standing to reach across the desk, he scrubs out his own cigarette, makes a futile attempt to wave away the smoke, and watches you descend the stairs into their working arena. “Hey, Sully,” he smiles like a man not accustomed to it and rests his hands on the waistband of his ridiculously out-of-fashion jeans. “That’s a new dress.”

You flash him a grin and shake your head. “Stop. Don’t waste your flirting on me, Peña. You know I don’t need greasing.”

He only shifts his weight to one hip. There’s no response but a compliant tick of his jaw.

It’s second nature with Javier. He knows he’s good looking. Knows all he has to do is flash those puppy dogs and throw some attention, and ladies will give him anything he wants. You love it and hate it. Hate it because it’s insulting to be targeted for manipulation just because you’re a woman. But you love it because the man is Javier Peña and you’d be lying if you said those big brown eyes weren’t beautiful and you’re happy to have an excuse to have them pointed your way with warmth rather than the chill he reserves for the more bureaucratic workers. It’s a safe kind of crush, the kind you can play with as long as you never expect too much.

Javier’s been stopping by your office since before there was a Steve Murphy, buttering you up and asking for favors–access to a file here, a release stamp there–hell. You’ve expedited more requests on his behalf than all of the upper cabinet combined. And how many times have you distracted the clerk in tapes archives just so Javi could walk by and flash a request form without having it scrutinized for certification?

Every request starts the same, with his awkward little smile and an actual compliment. And every mission accomplished gains you a “Thanks, you’re a miracle worker.”

“Like Anne Sullivan?” you’d asked after the tenth or twentieth time.

“Huh?”

“Anne Sullivan. Hellen Keller’s teacher. The Miracle Worker.”

That caught him off guard. “Uh, yeah. Anne–?”

“Sullivan.”

“Right. I guess you’re an Anne Sullivan. I’d be lost in the dark without you.”

You’d allowed yourself to be charmed. “Careful there, Agent Peña, or you’re gonna make me rather fond of you.”

Nothing makes a grown man blush faster than to out-flirt the flirter. Not that it was hard with Javier. He was adorably miserable at it.

But it was always fun to watch him try…and to periodically beat him at his own game.

Once Steve landed in Colombia, you got two for the price of one. But Murphy knew you could see through his games and didn’t even try. It endeared you to him that he approached you sincerely. And you knew you could always do the same with him.

“As a matter of fact, it IS a new dress,” you chirp, twisting your shoulders one way and then the other, fluttering your lashes and fanning yourself with a hand in a mock display of coy preening. “My parents are flying in tonight and I’m taking them out to dinner.”

“I thought the trade conferences weren’t for a few days,” Steve frowns and shoots a concerned glance at his desk calendar.

“They’re not. But they’re coming through to spend some time with me and tour the city. Mixing business with pleasure. That’s…um…actually why I’m here. I need to cash in a favor.”

Javi chuckles as he settles back into his chair, throwing one heel and then the other onto the desktop. “Time to pay the piper. Name it.”

“Actually,” you cringe, turning to Steve, “I thought I’d ask Murphy here.”

Throwing a surprised but self-satisfied grin over at his partner, Steve puffs out his chest. “Well I guess I can be the hero for the day. Anything you need, sunshine.”

Thankfully Javi seems to feel the need to show he’s not offended and returns to his typewriter to peck out his report. Good. This is an embarrassing enough ask. You don’t really need witnesses to this.

“So, this is going to sound like a big deal but it’s really not. My relationship with my folks is just…complicated,” you assure him, priming the agent for the stupidest thing you’re ever going to ask for in your life. “It would make my and everyone’s life easier if I was seeing someone? Because then my mother wouldn’t bring it up and pressure me and irritate my father, and he wouldn’t worry about me here so much thinking I’m a woman all alone…it’s just…it’s…,” you sigh, irritated. “This is so dumb.”

Clackety clack clack ding whirr. You look up to see Steve gaping at you.

“Are you asking me to pose as your boyfriend?”

Silence. You’re sure if you turned to look over your shoulder, you’d see a frozen Javier, two fingers of each hand hanging above his typewriter like a little T-Rex.

Oh for a trapdoor or hand of god…. Suck it up. They owe you.

“Yup.”

“Uh….”

You expected this. “I’m not asking you to make a show or….they’re coming in tomorrow and I thought if you were here you could just meet them for a second. And if you’re not, I could just point to your desk–”

“Doll,” Steve releases a confused laugh, “I’m married, you know.”

“Yeah, but Connie’s not here. Like I said, they won’t delve. If I just point at a man, they’ll accept it and leave it alone.”

“So you’re going to lie to your parents.”

A confident nod is your first response. “Absolutely. And if you’d met them–when you meet them–you’ll understand why that’s best. Or you won’t. You really won’t get to talk to them long enough to find out. Just give a couple of handshakes, be nice and I’ll move them along. It’s that easy.”

Gritting his teeth, Steve gives a disbelieving shake of the head. “I dunno. I mean, the ruse won’t stand if they mention my name to anyone. Why me? Why not that new guy in the mail room who’s been watching you walk away?”

“Jimmy?” you scoff. “Yeah, no, not my type.”

“Really. Dark hair and pretty blue eyes and a six-pack he doesn’t mind showing off isn’t your type?”

“Wellllll, when you put it that way…sure he’s not your type?” Now it’s Javi’s turn to huff a silent laugh and you give him a conspiratorial smile before rounding back on Steve. “He’s dull, Murphy. My parents know me well enough that I’m not going to go for dull. So take that as a compliment. And he’s a bedpost-notcher. I don’t want to encourage that kind of behavior. I may be lacking in male companionship but I’m not that lonely. Yet.”

Your no-nonsense, shut-em-down tone quiets both of them and for a moment you think you’ve won. But his response makes it obvious you’re going to have to cash in all your chips.

“Still. There are enough single guys around here–”

“Because,” with one hand on the corner of his desk you lean in to conspire even though his partner is three feet away and can obviously hear you, “most of them are a bunch of lazy sit-abouts and you’re always out and busy. It not only paints a good picture, it’s the perfect excuse not to join us for dinner because my mother will do her best to insist. And,” you wheedle, lowering your voice further, “because you owe me.”

“I would counter that I owe you a lot more than he does.” Javi keeps his voice at a stage whisper in mockery of your own and shrugs as you and Steve swivel your gaze to him. “What.”

“Lying to the Assistant Trade Rep of the Western Hemisphere about intimate relations with his daughter sounds like a good time to you? You can have it.” Steve taps your shoulder before pointing at his partner. “He’s not hitched. Why not Javi?”

Rolling your eyes, you stall for time as you try to find a better answer than the truth, but when one doesn’t come, a sigh paves the way. “Because you dress more respectable than he does–”

“Hey.”

“--and my mother is judgy!,” your heartfelt insisting pushes through, doing your best to placate Javi–handsome Javi–who really does know how to keep the last decade’s fashion in fashion. “Javi, you’re lovely and you look good and I don’t want you to change. But my mother is going to take you for a ladies man, which you are, you know you are, and she’s going to pick apart your choices with wanton disapproval which is almost more unbearable for me than not being attached to anyone at all because then I’ll spend hours defending you for nothing–”

Steve and Javi finally break and their sudden laughter shuts you down. It’s all you can do not to give both of them the finger and a good ol’ fuck off.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve says through his trailing amusement, taking his turn now to placate. “Fine. We’ll make ourselves scarce and you can use the imprint of my ass in this chair as proof of warm-blooded human male. But maybe a false name, yeah? Like…Peter or…Harvey or something.”

“Harvey?” Javi scoffs. “How about Dick. Dick Bob Jones.”

“That sounds like a hillbilly name.”

“Yep.” ________

According to your mother, your apartment is “charming,” the streets of Bogotá are “interesting,” and the department headquarters are “surprisingly up to date.” In the car on the way to the office, you managed to dodge most of her questions about your personal life, dropping one-word answers before pointing out the window and explaining certain buildings or neighborhoods.

As promised, Agents Murphy and Peña are out in the field when you walk your parents past their desks on your way through to your own department. “Well,” you wave with half commitment at it and move on, “looks like he’s out doing his job and catching those bad guys. Too bad. Maybe next time.”

The crisis is momentarily averted, but while your father ducks into a nearby restroom, your mother can’t seem to let the matter pass.

“So what does he do then? He’s a cop?”

“I told you. He’s a DEA agent. He’s on the team trying to stop the drug trade from reaching the States. Have you heard of Pablo Escobar?”

She scoffs and looks past you. “Everybody has heard of Pablo Escobar, dear. That naughty man. Oh. Oh! Is that him?”

“Hmm? Escobar?” Following her gaze and turning to look back into the atrium, you’re gifted the sight of tight jeans stretching over a familiar backside and tanned arms yanking open drawers on Steve’s desk, obviously looking for something. “No, Mom, that’s just–”

But before you can correct her, she’s striding over in her Prada heels, ruffled blouse bouncing and pearls clicking, reaching forward into an eager handshake as she interrupts the very visibly hurried agent. “It’s so nice to meet you!” she chirps. “You must be Harvey!”

“Mother–!”

Javi stops digging, having found the warrant he was looking for, looking up in surprise at this forward, fussy, American woman, his lower lip hanging in a soft V, before taking her hand courteously and introducing himself, “Javi.”

“Oh, I knew I was right! The minute I saw you I knew you had to be her Harvey, you’re certainly her type.” Her hospitable countenance flickers only for a second as she takes in his tight shirt. “She says you’re quite the cop.”

“Mom, Javi’s a government agent and–” As you catch up to her, the momentary confusion on Javi’s face melts into understanding spiced with just a hint of amusement. “--and, as you can see, he’s in a hurry so–”

“It’s okay,” he beams, continuing to shake your mother’s hand. “I can take a minute to meet the woman who raised mi milagra.”

What.

Something in your brain hits the panic button and your mother chatters on to him as your backup generators whir into gear. He gives her his full attention, smiling as she babbles about how proud she and your father are of you and how nice it is that you’ve found someone to spend time with and…did he just say–

“We’ve got a lead on a collaborator and I was just ducking in to grab some paperwork,” he explains, waving the warrant in one hand. But his other hand– “What a lucky coincidence” –dips behind you– “that you happened to stop by,” –slides across your back– “because my girl here has told me so much about you,” –settles on your hip– “ma’am,” –and pulls you flush to his side.

It’s a smirk. A smirk that he has the brazen balls to grace you with then, and it’s hard to tell if he’s fucking with you or if he’s just really enjoying being your hero and sharing a joke that only the two of you know about.

And it’s equally hard to tell if you’re about to laugh or swear or….melt… he’s holding you so tightly and he smells like cigarettes and his surprisingly light cologne… his shirt is damp, your blouse is damp, it’s a humid day and you’re sticking together a bit and he wears such fitted clothes and one of his few buttons is strained enough to give you a peek at his smooth chest beneath…

“Well, if you have to go, Harvey, I don’t want to distract you from your work, but my husband is using the facilities and he’ll be sorry to have missed you. Will you be working all evening? Why don’t you come join us for dinner! You know how well my daughter cooks and she’s making her carbonara for us–”

“Mom–”

“Your carbonara?” Javi questions you before turning back to your mother and squeezing you tighter against himself, causing you to stumble closer. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Her delight is evident. “Oh wonderful!”

“If you’ll excuse me though, my partner’s waiting. I’ll see you tonight, honeybunny.”

The world tingles a moment as a mustache and warm lips bush your temple and then you’re watching broad shoulders and slim hips swagger away from you and up the stairs.

Honey…bunny? Honeybun–

Fuck.

“Javi! Wait!” You hold up a hand as you pass your mother. “Stay here for a second, I have to…I forgot to tell him… uh…”

He stops at the top of the stairs, leaning in, anticipating your quiet brand of ire. “Your mom’s sweet.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“What. Seems to be going well, I mean, apparently, I am your type, so it all works out. I think that performance down there earned me a dinner. I fucking love a good carbonarra.” The glare you serve him loses its bite under his soft smile lacking in any sarcasm or hazing. This is the Javi you know, the conspirator that finds you working late at night and is grateful for your help in the file room or in the microfiche lab, the one that noticed yesterday that your dress was new. Doing you a favor. What else would you expect? “If you want, I’ll wear baggier pants.”

“No, just…” you sigh. “I should give you my address–”

There’s a thing he does with his smile, something that gets you every time, a little jaw tick that comes with a quick downward bounce of the eyes and a single shake of the head. “Don’t need it. I know.”

“Okay, but…. Wait. What?” You call after him as he trots toward the door.

“I’ll come hungry!” _____

“Sir,” Javi bobs his head in reverence as he meets your father’s handshake. It’s above and beyond your requests, as is the cleanup of the five-o-clock shadow, the change to his black button up shirt, and his showing up on time. And in true commitment to the bit, he didn’t even knock, just came in and found his way to the dining area like he spends most of his time in your apartment.

“Good to meet you, Javi.”

“Dear,” your mother chirps from her watchful eye at your shoulder by the stove, “it’s Harvey.” She doubts herself. “It is Harvey, isn’t it?”

Completely disregarding your mother’s interjection, your dad gestures to a spot across from him at your modest dining table set for four and offers him a packet. “Sit down, sit down, agent. Smoke?”

“Ah,” Javi falters, and when you turn your head to your shoulder, you catch him checking in with you out of the corner of your eye. “She…doesn’t let me light up in here.”

“No? Heh. Well. I don’t know how she does it but it’s always been her way or no way. I see she’s worked her magic on you.”

“That’s for sure.”

You can’t help but smile as you give the noodles another good swirl in the pot and set the spoon on the counter. That little display just earned him a treat. Pulling out two glasses from the cabinet, you give a generous pour of the whiskey you picked up on the way home especially for him and bring them over to the table without a word for the two men.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” hums your father.

Javi glances at the glass, then up at you and your cocked eyebrow that queries him don’t I get a ‘thank you sweetheart’ from you too?

But oh, he came to play.

Ignoring the glass and taking your hand, his thumb skips across your knuckles. “You need any help, hon?”

There’s a microsecond between you where laughter is very very possible. The game is on. So you up the stakes by pushing a little curl of black hair behind his ear before trailing your fingers down to pinch his chin. “No, baby. You just relax and enjoy yourself.”

The smallest flush of pink and flash of panic that you catch on him as you turn away (only because you’re looking for it) tells you that you’ve won this round.

Back at the stove, your mother’s taken over, having drained the noodles and now attempting to pour the sauce into the noodle pot rather than your tried-and-true method of bringing the pasta to the sauce pan.

“Mom! Could you not–”

You see it coming a second too late, the sauce hasn’t thickened properly and a good portion of it misses the pot and splashes onto her blouse.

There’s commotion, a shriek and an overreaction, and you reach for a towel to catch the sauce before it stains, but the towel is dirty with spills and bacon grease and you’re both trying to keep the sauce pot from toppling off the stove. “Just…hold still, Mom, here…let me get a clean towel–”

“I’m on it,” Javi jumps up, heading down the hallway.

Great. Here’s another thing splitting your attention from timing the sauce. “Javi??” you call, “The towels are–”

“I know! The cabinet behind the door!”

How did he….doesn’t matter. The woman who raised you is in need of someone to mother her at the moment and you’re doing your best to calm her down before she causes even more of a mess. In a matter of moments, your stand-in man is back with a hand towel and you join her at the sink to help her dab it off.

“Oh, well this is just dandy,” she whines. “Now I have to sit here in a wet blouse in nice company…”

“It’s fine, Mom. You can wear one of mine.”

“The pink one or the blue? She can change in the bedroom,” Javi gestures, offering to show the way. “Ma’am?”

“Uh…the…blue….” This time you don’t have time to veil your shocked and confused expression. If Javi truly notices it as your mom swans by him, he doesn’t let on.

The rest of the evening is uneventful and pleasant, your father and Javi carrying most of the conversation as the older man drills the agent on the particulars of the cartels and Escobar’s influence with his communities, how it’s affecting customs and trade, and what that means for the conference your father is here to attend in his duty to the Trade Rep.

After a couple of hours, he makes it known that it’s time to get back to the hotel, that he has an early morning as his boss is flying in.

“Already? Dear! You boys spent all this time talking shop and I have all kinds of questions for Haaavi.”

“Well, my bride, you’re just going to have to wait to satisfy your curiosity. I’m sure it will keep.”

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?” Javi asks just as you take a sip of water and try your best not to choke on it. “If you’d like to try some of the local specialties, I know a place not far from here. Sancocho to die for, made fresh every day.”

The fire in your eyes is shielded, soft, but directed straight at the side of his face, hot enough that he can surely see it from his periphery if not feel the flames. The corner of his mustache rises the smallest fraction of an inch.

“That sounds a real treat, son,” your father says, rising and crushing Javi’s shoulder in a squeeze. “Tomorrow night then.”

Javi joins you at the front window when they leave so you can wave them off, having the balls to wrap his arm around your shoulder as you do. Once their car pulls away into the night though, he retracts it and ambles back to the table, gathering up a few stray plates and taking them to the sink. “Well, that went well.”

When you don’t answer, he turns to find you with a level expression and your arms folded across your chest. “What was that?”

He has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“We are going to address tomorrow night in a minute, but I’d love for you to explain to me why you know the location and the layout of my apartment, Agent Peña.”

Now he catches up, nodding slowly and returning to you at the window. With one hand on a hip and the other pointing to the nearest streetcorner, he explains, “Did you see that car that pulled out of there after your parents? Security. I sat in a car in that exact spot for three weeks after you were appointed to the agency. Couple days while you were at work,” he waves a hand, gesturing to the apartment as a whole, “I spent quite a few hours in here on a deep scan for taps.”

Now it’s your turn to carry the surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Standard procedure for government employees to be shadowed for a probationary period, eliminates the suspicion of inside involvement. You got a deluxe security detail treatment on top of it because…well. Your…family’s connection to Washington.”

He’s kind enough to wait for you to process this. “Wait. You mean,” peering outside at the location he indicated, noting the straight-line view into your living room, “you watched me? For three weeks???”

He turns back in search of his glass. “You dance when you’re happy. You could stand to be happy more often.” Giving you the time it takes for him to pour another finger of whiskey to stew over this, to grind through the gears of your mind and work out if you might have done anything embarrassing under the gaze of the DEA, he finally assures you, “Don’t sweat it. You’re usually a stickler for keeping your curtains closed. It was about as uneventful as a watch is possible to be.”

“So this is what they pay their agents to do? Babysit a government employee’s daughter? That seems below your pay grade.”

He downs the drink and shrugs. “I was lower on the pole back then.”

“Not that low.” But then…. The jaw tick presents itself again. His lack of eye contact confirms a sudden suspicion. “My…father paid for it.”

His nod hangs silent and sorry between you.

Independence. That’s why you took this job. Something you thought you could do on your own without your father’s help, run away from America, go live abroad and work somewhere new, somewhere exotic. How naive to think–for three years now–that you’ve done all this on your own.

The embarrassment burns.

Javi slowly runs a finger over a plate, raising a dollop of sauce to his tongue. “This is good. You’re a hell of a cook, Sully.”

It’s meant to lift your spirits, make you feel accomplished at something in your life. It’s appreciated.

“Thanks. It’s not that complicated.” Moving past him into the kitchen, you pick up your tongs from the counter and quietly start heaping half of the leftover meal into a bowl. “What’s this place you’re taking us to tomorrow? You’ve seen what a holy terror my mom is about food.”

He comes to lean against the refrigerator. “Dos Rosas Cocina.”

“I know it. Good choice. Atmosphere’s… rustic, but the food’s amazing.” Tying the bowl up in a clean towel and placing it in his hands, you sigh, all the stupid, terrible tension you didn’t know you were holding this evening seeping its way out. “I can’t believe you’re electing to spend more time on this little act.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t remember thanking you, but thank you.”

“What’s this?”

“Leftovers. Lunch. Enjoy.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“You’d better.”

Later, after the dishes are done and the leftovers stowed, you curl up on the couch with the novel you’re battling your way through. But not a single page is turned. An hour goes by as you think through the interviews and steps you took to get this job, to land your working visa, to find this apartment in a nice part of town, how easy it had all seemed at the time, how accomplished you’d felt. And then there was that little look of realization and regret in Javi’s eye. That he knew. That he was the one that slipped and let you figure it out, that he never told you before. That nobody told you before. Had you come off as stupid in that moment? Innocent? Naive?

You need to confront your father about it. Probably not tomorrow, not in front of Javi. But soon.

Dammit.

You’re not getting any reading done so you turn off the light and head to bed.

Your pajamas are folded and the bed’s been meticulously remade.

Of course.

No wonder it took longer than it should have for your mother to change her blouse.

How is it you get to be a grown ass adult and your parents will never see you as anything but their little girl, even at this age?

________

“Soooooo, how’d you two meeeeet?”

Having arrived early at Dos Rosas Cocina, Javi already has a drink in him, so your mother’s question earns a contented smile. “Well–”

“At work, Mom. Obviously at work.”

It’s not a lie. It was at your desk. He needed something notarized and your new stamp hadn’t arrived yet so he wrote his direct extension on your desk pad, asked you to ring him when it did. You remember thinking that his eyes wandered too much but couldn’t be mad when you realized yours must have too if your first impression was that his pants were a good fit.

Later that night you’d come here, to the Cocina, charmed by its walls lined with picture frames full of the owner’s ancestors and descendants, how it seemed to be the center of time itself reaching backward in it’s colorful mountain-style decor and forward in its state of the art cashier’s computer and cd jukebox.

The owner had served your meal himself and sat down to chat with you, to practice his English, he said. It was a slow night and you had nowhere to be and he put you at ease right away.

“Dos Rosas,” he explained, “it means two roses. You see the sign? One red, one white. You know what it means?”

You shook your head and smiled, mouth full of some heavenly empanada.

“The red rose is for love. The white rose for friendship. Dos Rosas is a place my father made where he wanted guests to come with love and friendship.” And then he produced a single white rose, slipping it into the vase on the table. “For your luck. You are welcome here, friend. Someday you will bring someone who will share a red one with you, si?”

It had been a favorite place ever since.

Javier had been there that night too, now that you remember it. Sitting in the dim corner away from the basket lamps, nursing a beer and a plate of arepas, the curtain of his cigarette smoke nearly hiding him from view. Back then he was just the agent who needed some papers stamped and who just happened to be at the same restaurant that night.

Hindsight and new information reframes the nearly-forgotten memory now. Of course. He must have been tailing you then.

“I think,” Javi says as he drapes an arm across the back of your cane chair and leans in, “she understands where, milagra. But what she wants to know is that I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

Your response comes with a sweet smile that hides a challenge. “I know. You watched me for three weeks straight.”

“And then some.” He doesn’t let your jab throw him off the act. “And then there were the times I had to get into the file room for nothing in particular, just a reason to come down and talk to her.” On the contrary, he hooks a foot around the leg of your chair and yanks it closer to his own, effectively throwing you against his chest. “She used to laugh at my flirting; made fun of me, thought I wasn’t serious.”

The clench of your stomach, the cold wave of your blood pressure dropping, every method your body has to signal and react to danger begins to take over as Javi keeps you locked from pulling away with one arm, hazy smile inches from your face, his heavy-lidded gaze dropping to your mouth.

A warm hand folds gently over one of your own, floating it upward, his fingertips guiding your palm until he ducks his head half an inch to meet your knuckles to his lips. Big brown eyes beg at you and that cold wave rebounds now as a hot tsunami.

And all you can do is stare, stare at this display of tenderness that seems so very unlike the Javier Peña you know. Gone is the indifferent agent, the shielded ego, the preference for solitary. As his kiss lingers on your hand just a second longer than necessary, you get a glimpse behind the curtain to the man beyond. For one moment you witness a vulnerability and care, a fleeting tease of what it must be like to have his perfect attention, his devotion. It’s literally breathtaking.

And then something in him stalls, shifts, as if he notices the same in you.

Is he going to kiss you? Should you kiss him? Right here in front of your mother? Why is he so warm? What is that amazing cologne? Is his shirt unbuttoned further than usual? Is that a cymbal roll in the music coming from the jukebox or is that your blood rushing in your ears? Does he always breathe this forcibly? How have you never noticed that little crease in his bottom lip or realized just how dark his eyes were?

Just as his tongue flicks forth to wet his lips, your father returns from the phone booth in the back.

“Well, false alarm. Seems the ambassador just had some bad fish, but it’s passing. Conference is still on.”

Oblivious to your predicament and drawing your mother’s attention, he’s happy to answer her questions regarding the type of fish and how long it was prepared, and she offers her wisdom to nobody in particular as to preventing such a thing as food poisoning. Neither of them notice as you slowly twist yourself out of Javi’s loosening clutches and both of them obviously assume your hasty retreat has more to do with wanting to powder your nose than calm your racing heart.

The restroom is one small room, looking like a much older sibling to the restaurant itself as if it had been built first and the rest of the building added later. You count fifteen cracks in the wall over the solitary, rust-stained toilet before a knock falls on the door, momentarily spiking your softening anxiety. It’s an old man’s voice enquiring in Spanish if you’d fallen in.

You’re far from convinced that you’re ready to face or deny whatever’s going on in your heart. But you wash your hands–one of them still stubbornly holding the tingle of Javi’s lips and mustache against it–surrender the room, and find your way back to the table where the man who is not your boyfriend leans forward on his elbows, spinning stories for your parents.

“But we’re zeroing in on him now. He’s made more than a few mistakes and we’ve just barely caught them by turning around at the right second. It’s only a matter of time.”

A smile pulls wide over your father’s face as he leans back in his chair. “That’s what I like to hear. Damn, son. I admire your tenacity. We’re lucky we have talented young men like you down here catching the bad guys.”

“And we’re also lucky to have you here looking after our daughter,” your mother helps.

“Thanks, Mom, I can take care of myself. I mean, that is,” To one side, you feel Javi’s focus tilt your way, “as long as Dad’s willing to pay for it, I guess.”

Silence blankets the table as the waiter sets down four bowls of sancocho, a plate of flatbread, a candle, and a red rose in a vase in front of you all before hastily retreating.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Staring at the rose and trying to sort out your thoughts, you’re not sure why you chose this moment to bring up the subject. Maybe your body is just in fight or flight mode and perhaps you’re diverting your fluster to this deep-seated frustration. Something is shaking the cage of your heart and wants out, wants to cause some damage–

–but Javi’s hand comes to a gentle rest on your knee, soothing whatever savage beast had awakened, somehow turning frustration and fear into calm strength instead.

“I know about the money, Dad. I appreciate the help, I really do. But it’s okay. You don’t have to pay anyone to babysit me and pull strings just to make my life easier here. I came to Colombia to challenge myself. I can’t do that if you’re sneaking in and slapping training wheels on me all the time.”

For a split second it looks as if he’s going to deny it, play dumb. Instead, he softens.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ll have to forgive me. Your mother and I can’t help but look out for you. It’s what we’ve done all your life. It’s a hard habit to break.”

The confirmation stings, but you can’t deny that you set yourself up for it. “Did you do the same for Kennie?”

“Your sister has a husband and a family. She doesn’t need us to look after her anymore.”

A frustration wells up inside, burning, humiliating, full of futility. It doesn’t matter what you accomplish, how many times you have to prove yourself, they’re just not going to change. They’re never going to overcome what their generation has held as truth all their lives, even past the recent wave of feminism and push for equality. They’ll never ever see you as complete unless there’s a man involved. There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.

And perhaps that’s the conclusion that makes Javi’s actions feel like the only heroic course as he rubs a side hand over your back and explains, “Sir, you don’t have to worry about her. She’s capable. Thriving. She’s in no danger here. If there were any threat at all, she could hold her own. And even so, I’d do my best to make sure trouble never came near her.”

“Oh, Haaavi. You’re so good to her. She’s so lucky to have you.”

With a defensive flick of a hand, he continues. “It’s not luck, ma’am. And it’s not goodness. It’s simply part of my job. Even if she was nothing to me but another clerk that’s too smart and too bold for her position, I’m an agent first. As a U.S. citizen and employee of the DEA, I’m going to put her life before my own. With all due respect–and I’m sorry to be so blunt–but to doubt that she or any American isn’t safe here is an insult to Colombia, to me, and all government agents on a professional level.”

The hard drag of conviction in his tone. The realization on your parents’ faces. The understanding sinking in. The steadying warmth of his arm around you.

“But she doesn’t need me. She doesn’t need anyone. Most self-sufficient and confident woman I’ve ever known. I’m the lucky one; lucky she’s bored enough to keep me around. Must be for entertainment.”

Wow.

And all at once, you regret that you hadn’t taken the chance to kiss Agent Javier Peña. ________

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a ride back to her apartment, son? It’ll be faster.”

“Thank you, sir, but I’d like to walk her home.”

Javi takes your hand in his, waving at your parents with the other, and quietly pulls you away from the car window down the dark street toward your place.

Half a minute later he’s still silent. And still holding your hand.

It feels awkward not to let go. And yet rude to do so. So you find a middle ground and squeeze instead, “Thank you. For that. Back there. I hate that I have no power to convince them of my autonomy on my own, but I think they just needed to hear it from…”

Who? A man? A government employee? A “cop”? A workaholic who is cranky most of the time because he disregards his own health and safety and refuses to sleep in his never-ending quest to quash every last cokeslinger within a thousand-mile area?

His nod and squeeze in return says he knows. “You know it’s love, right?”

Your heart trips over his words. “What?”

“Your parents love you. Doesn’t matter how old you get. Doesn’t matter how far you run. Doesn’t matter how long the flight is and how repulsive they find the local guaro, they’re gonna love you.”

In the shared laughter that follows, your hands naturally part and you double over, remembering the look on your mother’s face after tasting the aniseed liquor Javi ordered for her.

“It was so beautiful!” you crow. “She tried so hard to smile and be polite…and the tears! You could almost see the fumes pushing out of her tear ducts!!!”

“It broke my heart to do it to her, but she insisted I order for her–!”

It’s not often you see Javi laugh and smile–really smile–with unrestrained joy. Playful smirks, weary grins, the occasional shy blush perhaps, yes. But it’s not until this moment that you see him genuinely happy. It takes years off him, as if he’s shed responsibility like a coat and gone skinny-dipping into life for a minute. His eyes crinkle deeply when he truly smiles, they shine and sparkle. Like stars on this dim street.

The giggles and chuckles continue as you near your block and it’s in a resurgence of his that he casually just reaches out and takes your hand again, as if dropping it had been a little mistake that needed correcting.

And suddenly, it doesn’t feel so awkward. It should be, but it’s not. It’s like you both decided it doesn’t have to be and yet, it doesn’t have to mean anything either. If anything, a shared happiness. A familiarity.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

“Hmm?” His attention is slowly returning to the street, constantly scanning, every second a chance to gather information, find the next piece of the druglord puzzle.

“This. Being the perfect boyfriend. Having someone’s parents just think the god’s ass of you for once. Playacting chivalry.”

That last bit sobers him. “Yeah, well, at least I can put on a good show.”

There’s something in the response that rings…tired. You’ve hit on some old hurt, some buried regret. Knowing Javi, addressing it would only cause him to close off and dig it in deeper.

“Well, I’m enjoying it. I feel like I’m getting good value for all of the favors I’ve done for you and prettyboy Murphy. You’re good at this. A girl could get used to it. That story you told my mother about how we met? Let nobody tell you that you don’t go above and beyond in every way, Agent Peña.”

You can’t see the little grin that pulls at the far corner of his mouth, but you know it’s there. An eyebrow cocks. “So you’re saying my tab’s clear? I can put in a new order to the miracle worker?”

“Order up,” you laugh. “After all, now that I know Dad’s pulling strings, who’s gonna fire me? Bring your worst shenanigans!”

It doesn’t have quite the reaction you expect from him and he stops just short of the steps to your apartment building, deep grooves forming between his brows. “You know, it’s not unusual; landing any job has a lot to do with who you know. Keeping it is the part that’s all you. Even if you didn’t get it on your own, you still made it your own.” When you can’t seem to meet his eyes, his tone softens. “You’ve got a lot to be proud of here. Why did you feel like you had to perfect some image of your life by toting me around?”

Flustered, you scoff and jump at the chance to dodge the question. “I’ll have you remember that I asked Steve, not you. You’re the one that jumped at a free meal.” It doesn’t work. His stance demands an honest answer, his face says it’s required more for your sake than his. “It’s… a long story. There are checkboxes in my family… my sister got married and had kids and I never did. I never really felt it was important… or that anyone would put up with my attitude. i’m not exactly the picture of perfect wife material. I mean, of course I’d like to find someone someday, but it’s never been the main goal… but my parents–”

“I couldn’t do it,” he says. Not an agreement; an admission. Simple. “I walked away from the altar. Left her standing. It just felt like there was a responsibility there to be ‘the husband’, and–like you said, same thing–check off the boxes. I didn’t know if I could check off the same ones everyone else thought were necessary.”

It takes a moment to say anything. To move past the fact that he’s just confided a piece of his past and his personal life to you. That he’s let you in. It explains a little about why he doesn’t get close to anyone, why he prefers feminine relations without hangups. Which makes this admission very weighted and precious. You see that he trusts you not to judge. And perhaps it’s his way of letting you know that you’re not alone in dodging the tried-and-true life path.

“Everyone had expectations. You thought you couldn’t be a good husband. So you ran away to join the DEA because you knew you could do that spectacularly.”

Now it’s him that can’t look at you. “I wouldn’t say that I’m doing that well–”

“Javi.” That catches his eye. “You’re a damn good agent. I know you’re going to get the job done. Why the hell do you think I’ll jump at the chance to break every rule in the goddamn department to help you do it? Like I said. Who’s gonna fire me now if I do?” Something shifts in him, like he’s been slapped or sharply woken. As if it’s something he’s been needing to hear and didn’t have the right person to tell him. You’re suddenly honored to be that for him. He needs it. And so you gift him a little more. “Obviously you don’t have to do everything by the book to be good at something. Look at the past couple of days. Thank you for being nice to my folks. And for the encouragement. That’s all it takes sometimes, you know? You’ve been a damn good stand-in boyfriend. Your little stunts included, you asshole. That’s what made it fun. I’m sure you would have been a great husband.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it with a tick of his jaw. Regrouping, he gives you a pained look to say, “I’m sorry that you feel you were lied to…with the surveillance and all. And that’s how you found out. I meant what I said back there, Sully.” He swallows. “All of it.”

It’s so serious and vulnerable, an obvious effort for him to say. He’s a good man, Javi. You’ve read the reports. You’ve heard the rumors. He may keep others from getting too close, may come off as flippant and impatient or pour his focus into his work. But his moral center is pointed in the right direction and he’s the first person to discard his own needs in favor of someone else.

It’s probably what overwhelms him–caring about others but not allowing anyone to care for him–bubbles up so far that he has to visit his girls to vent it. He says they’re his informants, everyone’s heard that, but nobody buys that’s all it is. He needs to be cared for, but the money keeps him safe, keeps the lines drawn. It’s an exchange he can allow himself to make.

Something about that suddenly twists your heart. You could ask him in. You could take care of him. It’s tempting. It’s what he needs.

But you’re not sure if the inevitable fallout and distancing is what you need right now. It would be too easy to want him to stay.

It’s fine to fall in love just a little with Javier Peña, as long as you don’t expect too much.

Instead, you squeeze his hand. Big and warm and gun-callused. “I know you did. Good night, hero. Thank you.”

He lets you go, this transaction settled. Doesn’t ask anything more. As you expected. The perfect gentleman. When he puts his mind to it.

________

You’ve lost count of your yawns.

Even though you brought leftover carbonara for lunch the following day, you need to escape. There’s twice as much work with the ambassador’s conferences, more calls coming through and the agents and policia all have their regular requests. And you didn’t sleep soundly the night before; something whining at the back of your mind, like something forgotten or missed… Every form and file feels like an effort and you’re just so out of it. If your mother were to stop by and take you out to lunch–a real possibility–that would just be too much.

Half an hour in the outdoor cafeteria should help, even if it’s another hot day. Air and sunshine are usually good revitalizers. And you can hide in the crowd.

Or so you thought. Just as you’re settling in with a bowl of rice and veggies, a long shadow falls across your bench and you look up to see broad shoulders and dark hair.

But the eyes you meet are blue.

“Hi, Jimmy.”

“Well hey there. Mind if I join you?”

Without waiting for an answer he perches on the bench next to you with his sandwich and starts talking. About nothing. About the heat. How it’s hot here, how it was hot back home in Arizona but nothing like the hot here. Humidity. Dry heat. Sweat. How he once baked a cookie on the dash of a car parked in the sun. How he never understood the calculations between fahrenheit and celsius, just that one is higher and one lower. Something about mercury in thermometers.

You stop listening after a minute and just chew and smile and nod. You’re not that lonely. Yet.

There’s a little old man who sells flowers from a bucket, sets up a little stall on the sidewalk across the other end of the courtyard. He’s out here most days. He’s out here today. Carnations, chrysanthemums, birds of paradise, roses…

You should get some flowers for your desk. Something nice. Might wake you up a little. You watch absently as the flower man speaks to someone in a tan shirt. A man with dark hair like so many others here. He looks like Javi from the back.

You’d rather not think about Javi’s back. Or front. Or deep brown eyes.

So you listen to Jimmy ramble for a while before he finally asks you a question.

“Don’t you think it’s hot?”

“Yeah, Jimmy. It’s hot.” _______

“I’ll take one red and one white, por favor.”

The little old flower man’s smile is even warmer up close.

On your way back into the office you muse that you’ll put the roses in a vase and let them decide for you, depending on which one lasts longer. Do you really feel the need to entertain the possibility of infatuation? Or can you be content with the easy friendship you have?

But upon arriving at your desk, you find that your little bouquet will be unbalanced and one of the two choices will have twice the advantage.

There’s already a red rose laying on the credenza.

Next to a bowl that held carbonara leftovers when last you saw it.

And a note. Fast scratches on a torn piece of yellow steno paper. Probably from the ripped piece on your desk. Next to your pen.

“I meant all of it, Sully.”

Suddenly the clack of keyboards and whine of printers and ring of phones fades away. You lift the little note to read it again. “All of it.” As if the words aren’t enough, as if you need more empirical evidence–or maybe because it was with the flower–for some odd reason you bring it close to your nose only to confirm what you knew you’d smell there.

Rose. And cigarettes.

All of it? That’s the last thing he said last night. I meant what I said back there, Sully. All of it.

It had been a heartening thing to hear, reinforcing how he would protect and serve, how he thought you were competent and confident, but why remind you now–

Oh.

Oh. Not just that part.

All of it.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. And then there were the times I had to get into the file room for nothing in particular, just a reason to come down and talk to her. She used to laugh at my flirting; made fun of me, thought I wasn’t serious.”

Suddenly you understand what was keeping you awake last night.

The look on his face as he stood by your steps. The way he rethought the words before he spoke. It wasn’t easy for him. He tried to tell you and you just…

All of it.

You just thanked him and walked away.

He’s been…this whole time…he’s…

“Darling?”

Yanked from one confusion to another, you turn to find your mother rounding your desk–even though you told her not to, that only government officials are supposed to be around your files–coming to take your hand.

“Your father and I are going on a tour of the city with the Representative. I dropped by to see if you’d like to join us.”

“Hi Mom. No… no, thanks. I’m…swamped today. I’m sorry.”

She coos, worriedly. “Are you alright? You seem tired. Those are pretty…”

Blinking down at the roses in your hand and stepping slightly to the side to shield her view of the third on your credenza, you agree, “Yeah, just tired today. It’s the heat. Here,” handing her the flowers, you smile. “The red one is for you. Please give the white one to the Representative’s wife. I hope you have a nice tour.”

“Oh. Thank you, dear…but…how did you know I was coming?”

“I didn’t. There’s a nice old man who sells them. Sometimes I buy some to cheer up my desk.”

“You’re buying your own flowers? We should stop by Haavi’s desk and tell him he needs to do that for you.”

“Oh. No need. He does.”

Once she’s on her way, you swing out to the atrium, but find Steve and Javi’s desks unoccupied. There was talk of a situation on the east side of the old town, no doubt the whole department will be out most of the afternoon.

Good. Maybe you can get some work done.

Still carrying the note, you flip it over on Javi’s desk and scribble five words with the same pen–

You know where I live.

–tuck it under his typewriter with just the tiniest corner sticking out, and head for the coffee room. One cup and three more work hours should shrink that stack of paperwork on your desk.

If you can just shut it all out and concentrate.

And try not to expect too much. ________

The door to your apartment is unlocked when you get home. Well, he certainly jumped at your note.

It shouldn’t surprise you. There’s got to be department keys in some file somewhere. After all, how could he have done all that snooping around when you first got the job?

Dropping your bag and keys on the table in the hall, you head for the main room. “Javi? You here?”

Heart ramming against your ribcage, you emerge into the apartment…

…and find your parents seated at your dining table. Waiting.

“Mom. Dad. How…how did you get in?”

“Your father talked to the landlord. It wasn’t difficult, dear. We wanted a word.” Even though there’s an endearment, your mother’s tone is anything but.

“Okay. That’s kind of excessive. You could have just swung by my desk, you know where I–”

“This is a more delicate matter and we thought you might appreciate the privacy,” your father grumbles. “Sit down, sweetheart.”

There are two things on the table. Your mother’s purse, and a box of tissues. Not the brand you own. Provided for.

“I don’t think I will. What’s going on?”

They share a glance, a starting gesture as if to choose who will begin, even though it was always going to be your mom.

“We had a very nice tour of the city today. We saw the opera house and the capital. It’s a beautiful city. You must really like it here–”

“Representative wanted to go into some of the deeper parts of the city,” your father interrupts, already going off book it seems, “to see the neighborhoods that really reflect the majority economy, get a feel for the true people of Colombia.”

What’s this all about. There’s a silence. Of course there is. They’re waiting for you to prod them. “The old town. I know it. It can get rough, but mainly only if you’re already involved in something shady.”

“Well, there’s plenty that’s shady there, I’ll tell you.” Your mother’s nose lifts more than slightly. “Did you know that it’s crawling with brothels?”

“I do, actually. There are a lot of women who don’t have any other way–”

“Well, Haavi certainly knows about those brothels. We saw him coming out of one today.”

Oh. Shit.

Wait. What?

Fuck.

Your mother continues, something about being sorry to be the one to tell you, something about your heart and how it must be breaking, how it’s hard to be lied to….

The tissues sit on the table, a pretty pink box with daisies on it. They expect you to break down. Cry. How good of an actor are you?

“...and if you want to come home for a while, you know you are always welcome–”

Not good enough.

“Javi’s not my boyfriend, Mom.”

The silence that follows is thick, it mingles with the humidity, curdles it like cream in the air. You let it sit until it sours.

“He posed for me so you wouldn’t worry about me here. Like you always do. As if I could never make it on my own without someone.” Their shock sustains. The quieter they become, the easier it gets. “And Javi went along with it because he works with me. Day in and day out. If anyone ever thought I was in danger here, or couldn’t hack the agency, he’d be the first to say so. And I trust him.” Your mother opens her mouth to run her tongue, but you cut her off at the pass. “I trust that man. Yes, you saw him coming out of a brothel, but I’m not his girlfriend and he’s there for his job. Those women sleep with the people Javi’s trying to catch. It’s a brilliant tactic, actually. And they trust him too. Because he is good to them. He’s a good man; one of the best I know and deserves respect. He takes care of them and protects them as much as he would anyone else. You should have seen what he did for this girl Helena–”

It’s here that you notice something out of the corner of your eye and turn to find Javi standing silent in the hallway, still close enough to the door that your parents can’t see him around the corner into the room. But you can. Wide eyes. That tight fitting tan shirt. Slightly off balance as if he came to a stop immediately at the knowledge of walking in on something.

Why do you feel….caught?

“Anyway,” turning back to your parents with a sigh, “I appreciate your concern. But you don’t have to be. Not about him, not about me, not about anything. I’m sorry I lied. It just seemed…easier. Because you have never just believed I was fine. I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Like Javi said the other night, I’m thriving here. Even if he was posing, everything he said was true…”

But if everything he said was true…

A glance to the hallway finds it empty again. Even if the door is slightly ajar.

“Well. You can’t blame us for wanting the best for you, sweetheart. You’re never going to stop being our daughter.”

“I know, Dad. You keep saying that. It’s right there on my birth certificate.”

“There’s no shame in accepting help if it’s given freely and if it helps you achieve a goal.”

“I understand that, but I really wish you’d told me about it rather than let me think I did it all on my own. Do you understand how that feels? To be lied to?”

Your mother huffs. “I do now.”

Thank god for office coffee. Without the edge taken off of your exhaustion, you might have had more bite. But for now, you’ve said what was necessary and you’re not up for a fight or managing their feelings; you have enough of your own to sort out. If they care about you as much as they say they do, they’ll let what you’ve said sink in and not push the matter.

“Are you flying out tomorrow morning or afternoon?”

“Tomorrow morning, sweetheart.”

You nod and move into the kitchen. Seems they do care. You have to give them credit. “Okay. Do you want some dinner? I’ve got leftovers.”

“We have a dinner scheduled with the ambassador.”

“Well good. I’ve had a long day and I’m really tired. I probably wouldn’t be good company anyway. You’re coming back in for the trade agreements in January?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good. I’ll get to see you for a whole week then.” The sad smiles you exchange with them signal that everything’s going to be okay. For now.

There are hugs and kisses, a wish for safe travels and a promise to call in the coming days. Your mother apologizes loudly for cleaning your bathroom mirror. Your father apologizes softly for your mother’s volume. This time, you walk them all the way out to the street.

Your mother’s halfway to the car when your father doubles back, digging in his pocket, just barely remembering to give you the key he got from the landlord.

Or maybe he didn’t really forget.

“Your mother and I are proud of you, sweetheart. I’m sorry if we gave the impression that we weren’t.”

“Thanks, Dad. It’s good to hear.”

“I should have said it sooner.” He hovers as your mother gets into the car. “You tell Javi that it was nice to meet him. And that we’re proud of the work he’s doing here too.”

There’s something in the way he tells you this. Another apology. Or a knowing. You’ve never been sure with Dad.

“I will.”

As they pull away, waving, your plan is to go collapse on your couch and just be alone for a minute.

As you come back into your apartment, you have to amend that plan to collapsing on your couch next to Javier Peña.

“Hey.”

“You heard all of that?”

He doesn’t answer the question. You sink in, lean back, let your eyes close. He sighs.

“You mind if I smoke?”

“I do, actually. You know I do. And I don’t have an ashtray. There’s still some whiskey if you want though. Knock yourself out.”

The couch shifts a bit as he gets up. The pop of cabinet doors. The clink of ice against glass. After a few seconds, the couch shifts again and a cool tumbler slides gently against your hand.

You open your eyes to ice water.

“Thanks.” You take a long drink, not knowing what to say. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I never do. Bed’s too big. Sleep better when I’m not alone.” When you look him in the eye, he knows enough not to turn away. “One of the girls was called into one of Escobar’s regular haunts. Didn’t see him, but got a good look at some clients he’s courting. It was info worth delivering a retainer. And a final thanks.”

You do your best to keep your hope from shining through your cracks. “Final thanks?”

“Yeah. For all the…help in the past couple of years. Told them there’s a woman I’d like to spend some time with. Get to know better.”

The sly smile spreading across your face will not be contained. “Really. You told your informants that you were shoving off to the boring world of dating.”

“No. But I did let them know that if there’s a next time I darken their door, I won’t be in a very good mood. I don’t have a Jimmy to turn to if this doesn’t work.”

“Oh. So that was you today in the courtyard. That’s what inspired this? You jealous of Jimmy?”

“Nothing to be jealous of. He’s not your type. But. It might have sped up the process.” When you don’t laugh at that, he sighs. “Listen. I’m not good at this.”

“Yes, you are, I told you that you arrrre,” you yawn and go after another sip. “But I’m the one who’s going to be cranky and crap at it unless I take a nap. I’m sorry. It’s been a day.”

“Can I join you?” His dark eyes search yours as you empty the tumbler.

There’s something like a hope there. And something else, not quite an apology, not quite yearning, a worry that he’s going to do this right or die trying and he waited far too long to start.

Like he’s fighting the urge to expect too much.

“I said a nap, Peña.”

“Good. We were called in early. I could use it.”

It comes naturally. A smile. A matching smile. A whispered okay. He leans forward and slowly, softly, presses his lips to yours. Lingers a moment. Traces your nose–one side then the other–with his own.

“And what happens when we wake up?” you ask quietly in the space between you, in the space before the next slow, lingering kiss.

Javi stands, wraps three fingers around your glass and lifts it gracefully out of your grasp. Setting it on the end table, he reaches for your hand to help you up. “This is technically the third date, isn’t it? We could just…check off the usual boxes.”

“I think we established that I don’t especially love to do everything by somebody else’s rulebook.” Using the inertia of you coming off the couch to pull you straight into his arms and into a deeper kiss--one full of holding breath and clutching fingers--he chases it with a nip to your lip, which coaxes a chuckle. “But I’m open to actually following some rules for once. Especially the good ones.”

“Good. I think it’s time I worked you a miracle or two.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you. Well, lead the way. You obviously know where the bedroom is…”

He smirks, guiding you by the hand. “I’ll give you the tour.”

________

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

#narcos fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #year of tropes #javier peña x fake dating

621 notes · View notes

lovecanyon · 1 year

Text

INSTAGRAM BLURB: DAD!HARRY AND Y/N’S TIMELINE

day five!

MASTERLIST | PATREON

2017

liked by harryfan5, harryfan7 and 308,916 others

pagesix Harry Styles’ girlfriend was seen leaving to a airport earlier today. Witnesses from their date in Malibu Beach last week tell us both Harry and Y/N seemed to be on a date since they were acting very affectionate with each other.

view all comments

harryfan9 “girlfriend” i’m sobbing

harryfan4 leave her alone? she clearly does not want her photos taken?

harryfan6 i already love them so much 😭

harryfan3 their date in malibu…please don’t remind me 🫠

harryfan10 harry really needs to sue the paparazzi again…

harryfan8 damn they are following her now

harryfan2 and what if she’s the one 😫

harryfan11 how about we give y/n and harry their privacy

liked by harryfan12, harryfan16 and 221,306 others

stylesdaily Harry at Dunkirk’s premiere in London today!

view all comments

harryfan14 i just died

harryfan18 WHY IS HE SO GORGEOUS 😭

harryfan13 @annetwist thank you for bringing this man onto earth 🙏

harryfan17 if you hear someone screaming that’s me

harryfan15 the way y/n is also there…

harryfan19 SHE IS? 🫠

harryfan22 a literal god

harryfan20 harry attended the premiere with y/n…i can’t do this 😫

harryfan25 the hottest man on earth

liked by harryfan21, harryfan26 and 416,377 others

hsupdates Y/N ALSO JOINED HARRY AT THE DUNKIRK PREMIERE ALONG WITH HIS MOTHER!

view all comments

harryfan24 WHAT

harryfan28 “along with his mother” now that is cute…

harryfan23 y/n looks so good 😭

harryfan29 i wanna be her right now

harryfan32 this is really the best thing ever omg

harryfan35 I AM SCREAMING 😫

harryfan30 anne, y/n and harry together was just so sweet

harryfan27 awe this is harry and y/n’s first public appearance

2018

liked by yourinstagram, jefezoff and 2,308,721 others

harrystyles Boston, Live On Tour.

view all comments

harryfan31 the most attractive man on earth

harryfan33 HARRY IS SO EFFORTLESSLY HOT LIKE?

yourinstagram so handsome!

harrystyles Why thank you baby.

harryfan35 they are so in love 😫

harris_reed *copy and pasting y/n’s comment*

harryfan38 i am seriously going feral over him

pillowpersonpp having the best time touring the world!

harryfan32 this man does unspeakable things to me

liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 503,611 others

yourinstagram i love you @harrystyles

view all comments

harryfan34 totally not jealous

harryfan39 SHE’S BACKSTAGE 😭😭

harrystyles I love you more, so much more darling.

yourinstagram that’s impossible

harryfan42 GET MARRIED ALREADY

adamprendergast_ harry’s number one supporter is in the building!

harryfan45 y/n and harry make the perfect couple

harry_lambert the most beautiful ❤️

harryfan40 she’s living the best life

liked by yourinstagram, harrystyles and 97,609 others

helenepambrun.photography The woman of the evening.

view all comments

harryfan52 the love of harry’s life

harryfan57 CAN I JUST BE HER 🙏

yourinstagram i love you helene!

helenepambrun.photography i love you more ms.y/n ❤️❤️

harryfan50 why is y/n so stunning

gemmastyles missing my future sister in law!

harryfan54 harry liking every post related to y/n is the cutest thing ever 😭

pillowpersonpp my tour mother

liked by harryfan62, harryfan64 and 214,859 others

updatingstyles HARRY AND Y/N OUT IN NEW YORK TODAY!

view all comments

harryfan60 mom & dad!

harryfan67 THE CUTEST COUPLE EVER 😫

harryfan65 i can’t wait until we get an album written about her

harryfan69 i’m so obsessed with them

harryfan61 they deserve each other 😭

harryfan63 my eyes are watering

harryfan66 NOBODY CAN COMPARE TO THEM

harryfan68 why are harry and y/n so adorable together

2019

liked by harryfan73, harryfan70 and 349,720 others

harrynews Harry arriving at an airport in London today!

view all comments

harryfan75 he looks so good 😫

harryfan78 NEVER GETTING OVER HARRY…EVER…

harryfan71 major dilf vibes

harryfan74 the hottest man on earth 😌

harryfan76 he’s back home!!!

harryfan79 harry can run me over…i wouldn’t care at all

harryfan72 his arms 😭😭

harryfan77 i’m literally going feral

2020

liked by harrystyles, yourinstagram and 507,291 others

harry_lambert Custom made Love On Tour merch for Beau!

view all comments

harryfan82 the way you can just tell this is harry styles’ son

harryfan85 HIS BLONDE HAIR 🥹

harrystyles My precious Beau!

yourinstagram i love my boys ❤️

harryfan87 “my boys” y/n’s boys…her boys…i’m sobbing

gemmastyles awe how cute!!!

harryfan80 THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN 😭

harris_reed beau is a darling angel 🥰

liked by harryfan81, harryfan86 and 271,605 others

harryflorals HARRY OUT ON A RUN IN ITALY YESTERDAY!

view all comments

harryfan84 oh. my god.

harryfan87 HIS THIGH TATTOO? I AM GOING INSANE 😭

harryfan82 the pornstache has me on my knees

harryfan80 harry is a MAJOR dilf 🙏

harryfan85 everything about this man…is just so perfect

harryfan83 i’m in love

harryfan88 never getting over his tiger tattoo 😫

harryfan90 his girlfriend won at life

liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 5,730,618 others

yourinstagram Io amo l'Italia

translation: i love Italy

view all comments

harryfan92 the cutest family ever

harryfan98 OH MY LORD…I’M IN LOVE WITH MUSTACHE HARRY 😭

harrystyles You are so gorgeous, my love.

yourinstagram me? you are!

harryfan95 why are they so adorable together

pillowpersonpp just a mother on vacay with her two boys ❤️

harryfan93 the best parents ever

annetwist happy you three are having so much fun!

liked by harryfan91, harryfan94 and 307,622 others

stylesdaily Harry and Y/N on the set for Golden’s music video in Amalfi, Italy today!

view all comments

harryfan96 i love beau’s parents

harryfan99 THEY REALLY ARE THE PERFECT COUPLE

harryfan102 we are getting a music video soon 😌

harryfan97 #true love

harryfan105 harry is always with y/n…they are so cute

harryfan100 my babies 😭

harryfan107 jealous? me? no…

harryfan104 this couple means everything to me

2021

deuxmoi via instagram stories

liked by harryfan113, harryfan117 and 190,372 others

dailyharry Y/N ARRIVING IN LONDON TODAY!

view all comments

harryfan110 she’s back home 😭

harryfan119 okay but did anyone see deuxmoi’s instagram story

harryfan114 yes everyone did

harryfan112 the way y/n is hiding her stomach…is she…

harryfan115 baby styles #2???? 😫

harryfan118 we all know what’s under there girl

harryfan111 how about everyone stops assuming things…

harryfan116 @yourinstagram i know what you are

2022

liked by yourinstagram, _basselin and 6,290,742 others

harrystyles Merry Christmas! 🎄🎅

- The Styles Family

view all comments

harryfan124 HARRY HAD HIS HAPPY ENDING 🥹

harryfan128 inez and beau, the cutest siblings on earth

yourinstagram one of our best christmas’s yet!

harrystyles Definitely agree.

harryfan120 their outfits are so adorable 😫

annetwist my darling grandchildren ❤️❤️

harryfan125 “the styles family” i’m crying

harry_lambert merry christmas to the cutest family ever!!

harryfan129 inez’s shirt 😭

yourinstagram via stories

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ivegotparticulartaste @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @japanchrry @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @seguin-styles1996 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @kaitieskidmore1 @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @golden-hoax @flwrmuse @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @iluvjj @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @lomlolivia @b-reads-things

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fake social media #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles fake ig #dad!harry #dilf!harry #boyfriend!harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles au #harry styles fluff

1K notes · View notes

agendabymooner · 6 months

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 !!! 𝐥𝐧𝟒 — 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

☼ PENG TING FROM McLAREN

chapter summary: honey-sue lewis was so much like her brother wroetoshaw but everybody didn’t know how alike they were until lando, a stranger, got her a bouquet she didn’t even know he bought.

OR why talk to lando norris in real life when you can just send an apology through airdrop?

content warning: use of explicit language, written + social media chapter, honey radiates big harry lewis energy (oblivious, wants to go home, can’t pick up social cues), petty lando (my man is just simping leave him alone), mentions sidemen diss track era

note: shoot me an ask about anything! enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

Her second morning in Monaco started when she had dressed up in her comfortable striped shirt and a pair of washed jeans and departed the hotel to head down to the coffee shop nearby.

Monaco was a place of glitz and glamour, indeed, but Hannah-Sue, or Honey, would only move and splurge her money on a flat here because of how close everything was in the principality. She could get pissed on a bar here and still make it home by walking.

She loved it so much. Plus, the locals here were nice! Whereas she could get mugged in the streets of London even if she did nothing but breathe. Then again, she grew up around British people— so being sworn at was just a typical day.

Peace and serenity was what she had expected on her second day. Ever since she saw her mates’ driver friend yesterday at lunch, she hadn’t been able to look anyone in the eyes anymore. She couldn’t even look at her brother without being awkward— Lando’s eyes were always trained on her when she spoke.

She hated that he had to be so stupidly attractive and funny. She hated that he was so friendly. She hated that his stupid good looking face was making her even more socially awkward and conscious.

But as her second morning went on, the thoughts of him had gone away.

She stood from her seat and excused herself, “I’ll check out the streets right now,” she told her brother Harry and their friends. “I quite like the outside.”

“Honey if you smoke I swear to god—“ Harry tried warning his sister.

“I’m not gonna smoke, you ugly donny,” Honey quipped. “I’ve got no cigarettes with me.”

Filly looked at Honey with a concerned expression, “Are you sure you wanna go out by yourself? Can I come along?” She truly appreciated Filly’s presence in this trip, because he was genuinely worried for her. And they’ve only been friends since last year, so for him to care about her like this showed Honey that being friends with people weren’t all that bad. Not when someone could treat her like Filly did.

Honey smiled genuinely and shook her head with insistence, “I’m alright, Fils. I’ll be out quickly. ‘Sides I’m not gonna get robbed here or anythin’.”

“Yeah she right, she’s not in London,” Chunkz piped up with a snort. “Just be quick, yeah, because our food should be out soon.”

Honey had soon walked out of the place and looked around the streets of Monaco, the hustling and bustling city filled with luxury and ambition as her eyes skimmed through the stores. She truly loved the beauty of the principality.

Her attention soon turned towards her left, where she found a person around her age waving with her eyes widened.

“Hello- I- oh my god,” the girl started, “Hi- Honey-Sue, right?” Honey nodded with a puzzled smile as the girl sighed, “Okay good— I’m such a big fan of your music and I uh- you’re here for the race right? I am too! I uh- can I take a selfie with you, perhaps?”

“Oh! Thank you and uh, sure!” Honey nodded and placed her arm around the girl’s shoulder as the fan took a photo of the two of them.

“Thank you!” The fan exclaimed with a grin, “I would’ve had something signed but I got nothing with me right now- and by the way, congratulations on the double platinum and the platinum for Lust for Life! I’m looking forward to your newest albu—“

“Excuse me, what?” Honey looked at the fan with a confused look.

“Oh…” The fan trailed off. “Lust for Life just became a platinum album… did you not check your Twitter?”

“No? I uh—“ Honey stammered, still shell shocked at the news, “I don’t usually— Shit I do need to check my twitter and talk to my manager— alright, lovely chatting with you! Cheers mate! You have a good day!”

Honey dashed inside the restaurant with news to bear.

Why, of all the times she could’ve gotten this news, did she learn that she just reached her platinum record status during her trip to Monaco? When it’s, arguably, the most stressful time for her considering that she was forced to meet new people?

yungfilly posted a story!

Honey-Sue usually wasn’t this stupid. But whenever new people showed kind gestures to her, her social skills and ability to pick up cues would deteriorate dramatically.

Sure she could’ve just stopped rambling for a brief moment, but she couldn’t help it— nice and considerate people just make her short circuit especially if she didn’t know them before.

(Hell, even KSI would get her anything she’d like and she’d still be humbled about his kind gestures. That entire “KSI called her a sket so now she’s making him pay for it— literally” ploy was just a front for JJ’s platonic affection for her. The petty Sidemen diss track days were over yet he doted on her.)

She smiled meekly as she continued to examine the bouquet of paper flowers at hand. She twirled the bouquet around her fingers as she admired it.

“Yeah, we found out that you’ve gotten your platinum for your second album,” Ria continued to speak, but Honey couldn’t stop speaking and stammering.

“Thank you so much,” Honey said once more, “this is quite nice. I- uh, it wouldn’t die on me so that’s something I can keep in my place for forever…? I really absolutely love it.”

“And uh- Lan-“ Max tried to tell Honey but the singer couldn’t help but continue.

“I didn’t really expect this— I have to put this in my suitcase—“ Honey rambled. “Though I’m not sure if I should tuck it into the suitcase because this might flatten— excuse me guys—“

“—He- Lando—“ both Ria and Max tried to speak again but the Guernsey girl was already up on her feet as she began to head for the lift with Harry following suit.

Honey was still rambling to her brother as she asked, “Can you airdrop the photos? I ought to post those in my story.”

“...Lando bought it for you…” Max trailed off, shooting a look at Ria as they sighed in defeat.

It wasn’t even five minutes after when they received a notification from Instagram saying: “honeysue mentioned you in a story.”

They weren’t sure how they’d be able to deal with a sulking Lando. Especially when Honey didn’t learn that the McLaren driver was the one who bought the paper flowers before he headed off to the track for his media day duties.

She could’ve at least read the note he’s written, right?

—

honeysue posted a story!!!

Lando was staring at her.

And she was staring at the pasta on her plate as she refused to look at anyone. Not when the McLaren driver was staring at her with something of a curiosity in his eyes.

Was it curiosity or disappointment? Because he probably was disappointed that she was socially awkward and didn’t know when to listen and understand.

She wanted to apologize for not crediting him for the gift. But the way he looked at her told her not to bother— he probably fucking hated her anyways. He probably thought she was a bitch for that.

Especially after when she realized too late that it was his bouquet that she’d gotten. The message in the card was clear as a day in Monaco.

“Congratulations on your platinum! You’re amazing! Love, LN4 xx”

She ignored the conversations around her as she continued to sip on her second cocktail of the night. Her head felt a little bit light, but she was sober enough to apologize to him. She had to apologize otherwise she’d feel too guilty and embarrassed.

After all— there’s a couple more days of the Monaco weekend. Her brother Harry’s intention was to spend some time around Lando’s peers.

All Honey could do was apologize in hopes that the two of them would part ways.

Meanwhile, Lando Norris stared at the screen of his Twitter as notifications came in from his recent post. It was probably stupid that he acted all petty towards Honey’s obliviousness, but he couldn’t help it.

He really admired her. And he took her obliviousness about the flowers as a sign of rejection.

He couldn’t even find himself to look away from her and he knew he was making her uncomfortable— or so he thought.

And as he stared mindlessly at his screen, a faint sound escaped his phone as a notification popped up.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head.

Honey fidgeted on her seat, her fingers running through her screen as she mindlessly typed away on her phone.

She could’ve just talked to Lando seeing as he sat across the table. But she couldn’t— she was too socially awkward and embarrassed after that whole fiasco.

He accepted the airdrop that she sent a minute or so ago. But he seemed to not have decided to say anything more seeing as he hadn’t approached her like he did a day ago.

She was just about to accept humiliation and defeat until a notification came from her phone.

Yeah. Maybe there’s some room for improvement here.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen

#lando norris imagine #formula one imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #ln4 #lando norris fic #lando norris smau #lando norris au #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #f1 smau #formula one fluff #formula 1 #sidemen fic #sidemen au #🍯 honey honey! ln4 smau

154 notes · View notes

c0wb0yenthusiast · 6 months

Text

While you were sleeping

Part 1

Aaron Hotchner x reader

Summary : It’s Christmas Eve. You’re all alone at work until your ‘mystery man’ is pushed onto the train tracks. You save him and are now mistakingly thought of as his fiancée. For the rest of the holidays, the family seems to cling onto you. What do you do when you meet his seemingly cold and unwelcoming brother?

Word count : 3k

A/N : THIS CHAPTER DOESN’T CONTAIN A LOT OF AARON! Don’t sue me I’m just trying to set the story but attempted to add a little snippet at the end. So before anyone gets mad at me just remember there’s a thing called developing plot so don’t hate me please. Anyways I had fun writing this and part 2 will definitely be out soon!

It started off as a completely innocent activity.

Ogling the man who took the train to work everyday. He was lean, casual and relaxed with soft - as least, you thought it looked soft - straight, light brown hair which fell over his eyes if it was windy.

You’d sit back in your booth and think about a future with someone like him. Listening to the constant clatter as people slid their tokens through while you began to daydream. From the look of it, he seemed to be successful too.

He’d always smile at you too.

His smile brought out the creases in his eyes and his straight teeth. He was so perfect it was meant to be.

It was small and you may have been taking it too far, but he was so dreamy.

“Thanks.”

You could only melt on the inside as he walked off, his scarf trailing down his back as it had been lazily wrapped around his neck.

However, this would always distract you from punching other people’s tickets. You’d get a furious rap on the window with an angry businesswoman.

But that was fine for you. It was fine if it meant being able to catch glances of him.

It was a chilly December morning. The wind seemed to push against you as you made your way to work. It may have been due to the fact that it was Christmas Eve.

Your boss had managed to convince you to work holidays. Probably because you didn’t have anybody waiting at home for you. Except for the landlord’s son.

You can only wrap your scarf around you tighter while you clasp onto your sandwich. You were nearly there.

The booth was slightly warmer than outside, with only your chair and table greeting you as you got yourself comfortable.

Here you were - working on Christmas Eve while everyone else were probably bundled in blankets and sipping hot chocolate with their families.

Listlessly staring into the glass barrier, you admire the blanket of snow which the city had been showered in. It just seemed to show that everybody was connected or all together.

Apart from you.

You settled in your chair, turning a token between your fingers slowly.

Before he came up to the booth.

“Merry Christmas Eve.” He smiled, tapping on the barrier.

You instantly looked up to meet his eye which made you falter at his piercing gaze.

He was wearing his long, dark jacket but a knitted red scarf was slung around his shoulders. His hair fell over his eyes as he looked down at you, sliding his token in the little gap.

Underneath his jacket, you could spot your favourite suit - rich navy blue blazer and a clean, pressed shirt which brought out his light eyes. His buttons were a beautiful mix of brown and amber, sewn neatly onto his jacket which was half buttoned. He was careless in such a fashionable way

You look up at him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

This was the most he’s ever said to you.

“Uh-“

He’d already walked off and was waiting happily for his train.

You looked like an idiot - frozen in action. Your jaw almost hanging open at the sheer embarrassment.

Nobody else was at the station or by your booth, so you took the opportunity to ogle your mystery man once more.

He stood idly, checking his watch and clutching his briefcase in his hand. Was he going to work? Was he visiting family?

While you imagined a future with him in 10 years, it suddenly came to your attention that a couple of men were now standing by him.

They hadn’t put a token in, what were they doing?

You squint in an attempt to catch a better look while being blocked by the glass barrier, you could faintly hear their conversation.

“Hey, nice jacket.” The tallest one approached him closely, he was most likely the ringleader.

“Must be expensive.” Another chirped in.

It happened so fast.

Before he could even respond, they’d taken the opportunity to shove him onto the tracks.

He fell face first, his briefcase dropping from his hand as he fell.

They immediately ran off, urging you to do something, anything.

You jumped out of your chair, dashing out of your booth and now standing on the spot where your beautiful stranger had been pushed.

He lay limply on the tracks.

He’d been knocked unconscious.

You couldn’t see his face but you knew it was bad. He could’ve hit his nose, or even broken a tooth.

Without even thinking you lowered yourself down cautiously next to him and turned him over with some effort.

You tried to think of a way to capture his attention or even wake him up, but his bloody nose and parted lips were making your mind race.

“Sir- sir? Sir!” You kept repeating over and over, using an arm to tilt him towards you.

Blood was now dripping down his face and you couldn’t contain your distress.

“Somebody help me! Please- sir!” Another hand was now stroking his cheek. You needed him to wake up.

He couldn’t leave you here on the tracks like this.

You never even got to know his name.

That was when you heard it.

As you were lamenting, the muffled sound of a horn could be heard through your panicked cries.

Still holding onto him tightly, you look up.

It’s a train coming your way.

“Sir! Sir, there’s a train… and- and it’s really fast and I don’t think it can stop for us.. please wake up.” You added, pleading with this unconscious man as the silhouette grew larger and larger out of the corner of your eye.

He really wasn’t going to wake up; he sure was stubborn.

He was too heavy to drag up onto the platform, but you’d just spotted a small nook to hide in.

With no time to consider your chances, you laid with him and rolled into the small corner. You were holding onto his expensive jacket like it was your own life force as the horn was now blearing through your ears.

Your face was pressed against his chest, your eyes shut tightly as if that would alleviate any of the pain you could’ve felt if the train had hit the two of you.

He really seemed like a successful man. Even his cologne smelled good.

The train came to a halt at your station and concerned passengers were now wandering mindlessly to find a way to help you.

You could only hold onto your dream man and anticipate what would happen next.

It was all such a rush you never understood how you’d handled it so well. It was probably all the adrenaline.

You were whisked away in an ambulance with him lying on the stretcher. As you sat with a professional in the back, you’d steal glances of him from time to time. You never thought this could happen.

They’d managed to clean you up fairly quickly but kept you in the hospital waiting room for the authorities.

You’d been sitting for around twenty minutes, holding onto his scarf that had been separated from him in the frantic rush to put him on the stretcher.

Was he going to be okay? Was this your fault? Were you going to be arrested?

All these questions bubbled in your head and were slowly beginning to rise. If you didn’t talk to someone soon, you might explode.

Suddenly, you spot him being wheeled in another stretcher through the glass doors.

Surely they had to let you see him. You needed to know if he was okay, especially since you’d saved his life.

You got up and pushed the door open, about to follow him and the group of doctors wheeling him but was met by another doctor.

“Sorry, only family are permitted to visit-“

“Oh, but-“

“Are you family?”

“Well, no..”

“Then you need to stay here, please.” He added, but there was no sincerity in his tone as he guided you back into the waiting room, just outside the forbidden door you’d just entered.

You couldn’t stand by and let your dream man be whisked away once more. You needed to see him.

Clutching the scarf tighter, you could feel the pain growing. If you’d actually tried, you could have possibly had a future with him. Maybe if you were actually social-

“God… I was going to marry him..” you whisper, holding a yearning hand up to the door.

This was the moment when your whole life was absolutely flipped upside down.

A nurse frantically rushed up to you.

“Dear, is that- do you need to see him? Are they not letting you inside?”

You look up at her, but her glare is urging you to stand up and look back at the doors.”

“Yeah.. it’s.. it’s fine though.”

“It’s not! They shouldn’t be doing that.”

She took your arm and guided you through the doors once more. The corridor was empty as the two of you walked down; it seemed to be never ending.

“Your man is right… here. I believe this is the room he’d been assigned to, dear.” She taps her clipboard while she smiles and waits by the door.

“Oh.. thank you.” You smile back. This is all quite overwhelming for Christmas Eve, probably more exciting than any of your previous years.

You push the door open gently, examining him while he slept. He seems calm enough, a brace was now placed on his nose and he wasn’t bleeding anymore.

His scarf settles in your arms as you take a seat next to him.

You need a minute to take in the way his hair is mussed and how peaceful he seems to look.

“Hi..” you murmur, shuffling closer.

You were planning to just apologise to him, speak to the authorities and move on to your life.

Maybe he would be able to hear this all in his sleep.

“It’s uhm.. it’s me. You got pushed onto the train tracks..” you chuckle, but quickly stop yourself.

“I didn’t find that funny.. I just thought it’s quite a coincidence for Christmas Eve. It sort of set us up together.” Your voice was coming out much smoother and softer as you got rather comfortable with your mystery man.

“I’m sorry you have to spend Christmas Eve like this.”

Suddenly, the door almost burst open with the group of people now entering. An ocean of voices flooded the room, overlapping each other and growing in volume.

“Sean! What happened to Sean!”

“He’s right there, why don’t you ask him?”

“He’s sleeping, can’t you see?”

“Stop arguing!”

They all stop abruptly, now turning to look at you in unison. You’ve never seen a family so connected.

The group contained two elderly men, an old woman and a man in his early 20s.

“Who are you?” The younger man cocked a brow.

What you didn’t notice was the doctor who refused your entry had gathered them here.

He came to the front of the group, pointing an agitated finger at you.

“I thought I told you-“

“She is family! She is his fiancée!”

They all seemed to quiet down at the nurse’s sudden interruption. Even you were startled, you didn’t realise she’d stayed.

“Sean has a fiancée?”

“It’s been a couple of years..”

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell us!”

“She could’ve been a mistress-“

You stood up quickly, gathering your coat. This was all too much for you.

“I- I should go..”

“Nonsense!” The old woman stood in front of you and continued, “Sean may have wanted to surprise us!”

“He’s already surprised us enough today…”, one of the men grumbled.

The other three men nodded and murmured amongst themselves, most likely doubtful.

You couldn’t say no; she seemed so definite that you might as well be his fiancée now.

“We’re so sorry for being so ignorant, honey. It’s just that Sean never let us know he had a fiancée..” she put her hands on your shoulders fondly, smiling.

“It’s.. it’s okay.”

“What would Aaron say?” The youngest seemed much more panicked than the rest, probably solely focused on Sean in the hospital bed.

Who’s Aaron?

Like a Greek chorus, they moved together in a flock as they surrounded Sean’s bed. You followed slowly, standing a couple of inches behind them as they examined his current situation.

“My poor boy..”, the woman - presumably his mother - sniffed and held onto one of the men.

“What happened to him?”

“Coma. He got pushed onto the train tracks.” The nurse was now standing by them, gesturing to her clipboard.

You were too busy mapping out who his potential family were in your head.

“He’s not dead, honey. He’ll make it..”, the husband added reassuringly.

“Let’s leave soon before everyone bursts into tears. Sean would want us to stop feeling sorry him.” The other old man patted the young boys back and nodded to you.

That was your cue to leave.

Or so you thought.

In the waiting room, the boy wandered off around the corner to the vending machines. It was just you and the old man.

“Come. Sit with me.” He gestured to the chair in front of him.

You obliged, trying to be polite as he now thought you were going to be bound legally due to marriage soon anyway.

“You feeling okay?”

“Me? Oh, I’m fine.”

“It must’ve been quite stressful. Saving Sean from an oncoming train.”

“It was definitely.. something.”

“How long have the two of you been together?”

You paused. When did you first see him? When was the first time you were graced by his smile and clean suits?

“June. It was a Monday.” You smiled fondly at the memory.

Beneath your daydreams, doubts were lurking in the back of your mind. Why were you going along with this?

“So.. around 7 months? Pretty quick for an engagement. He never told us about you.”

“Yeah.. yeah..”

He was about to ask another question, but the rest of the family were now approaching swiftly and took seats in the chairs around the two of you.

The mother sat next to you, smiling up at you admirably.

“You went onto train tracks for my boy. God, thank you!” She sniffed again and flung her frail arms around you.

You almost flinched at the sudden movement but accepted her embrace awkwardly.

“Thanks.. I’m just thankful that he wasn’t injured severely.”

“And she’s humble too! Sean really found himself a rose in a bundle of thorns.” The husband commented, grinning.

This was all becoming far too much for you. It was Christmas Eve - you should’ve been sitting at home, swirling a mug of hot chocolate in your hands and enjoying watching your cat play with the new toy you bought him.

You shouldn’t be in the hospital surrounded by strangers that now believe you’re engaged to your mystery man.

Sean. That was his name.

He’s no longer your mystery man, is he? He was your fiancé now and there was nothing you could do to get yourself out of this predicament.

They talked amongst themselves, sharing fond memories of Sean. Some of them included ‘Aaron’, who you still hadn’t met.

After 10 minutes or so, the mother turned to you.

“Dear, we were all wondering.. since Christmas Eve has been such a disaster..” she sighed and sniffed again, “Would you like to join us for Christmas? It’ll just be a small celebration, but we all think it’s so unfair we haven’t been able to introduce you to any of the family traditions. Right?”

She looked at everyone else, who all nodded enthusiastically. They all seemed to be sold on you being Sean’s fiancée, so why not go with it?

It was evening now, the sun had set much earlier and darkness shrouded the house.

They had refused to leave you alone in an attempt to make you feel happier concerning the situation at the moment. It wasn’t working.

You weren’t his fiancée and it seemed to be eating you alive. You can’t tell them now, they seem to like you so much already!

You’re sitting on the porch, staring out into the darkness. It’s chilly but you got to borrow one of Sean’s coats he’d left at his childhood house, you wrap it around yourself tightly and embrace the faint scent of cologne as you find solace in the eerie silence.

It’s not that you don’t appreciate what they’ve doing for you. It’s just all quite overwhelming for one day.

You’re only one person, you don’t think you can handle it all.

You exhale shakily, folding your arms over your chest to try and block out any breeze.

That’s when you see it.

A car pulls up in front of the house. It’s a nice one - shiny and expensive. You contemplate going inside but decide it’s probably no threat.

Then, a tall man encased in a long, black coat begins to walk up to the porch.

He’s refined, smooth and carries a sense of power. However, it seems to fade as he walks up the pavement. He’s less tense at the sight of the warm aura and bright light escaping from the inside and shining onto the frozen grass that he steps on.

Every ounce of friendliness leaves as soon as he comes face to face with you.

He stops abruptly, looking down at you with a cocked brow.

“Who are you?”

Before you can open your mouth, the door swings open and Mrs Hotchner rushes towards him.

“Aaron, we didn’t think you’d make it! It’s so good to see you, honey!” She cried, flinging her arms around him.

“Always a pleasure to see you, mother.” He replies, patting her back gently but not tearing his eyes off of you.

You shrink a little at his piercing gaze. It’s like he’s slowly peeling back the layers of your character, examining all of your features and trying to determine how to feel about you. Maybe you’re looking into it too harshly.

He just doesn’t know you yet.

And by the looks of it, he’ll get to know soon.

taglist: @jxvipike @barbwirewalk

Comment if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

#aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #sean hotchner #while you were sleeping

165 notes · View notes