#they both said they’re not good at this and it makes it far more endearing that despite that palm still wants to share a dance with nuneg

[wardenparker]

If You Were Mine, pt 2

Javier Peña x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12.5k   Warnings: Food/alcohol, references to smoking. The love is requited they’re just idiots, there’s only one bed, dake dating, wedding date, Javier Peña dances like he fucks and I will not be taking criticism, Bad Timing Tía, dealing with the ex, fingering, hand job, unprotected sex, vaginal sex.  Summary: The day of Danny’s wedding goes much, much different than either you or Javi expects it to -- and so do your meetings in Washington. Notes: Find part 1 HERE! Also this gif has me hypnotized so if you need me I’ll be right here staring at my laptop screen for the rest of time...

Danny's wedding is two days later, and that Sunday morning when you get up and get dressed for church, it's getting dressed for the wedding as well. Barely able to look Javi in the eye since hearing his confession on Friday night, you're quiet in the truck on the way to downtown Laredo. Javi looks far more handsome than a man in a plaid shirt and jeans ever should, and your black dress might be a tad too dressy but you pair it with flat shoes and don't overdo anything else so you won't end up looking too out of place. You've already made up your mind to be there for him today and to not give anyone any reason to question the two of you — you just want one more day of things being good between you before you have to head to Washington.

Sitting in the truck beside you is pure torture. Rubbing his hands on his jeans as he wonders why you have just…avoided him. He hates that things have changed, but he doesn’t know how to bridge the gap.

When the church comes into view Chucho shuts off the radio like the priest is going to come out and chastise him for listening to rock music, but you just sit back and tap your fingers on the strap of your purse. "Remind me," you murmur, leaning over to Javier as Chucho parks the truck. "Danny is your mother's younger sister's only boy, right?"

“Yeah.” Javi nearly startles, hearing the first words you’ve said to him in two days. “I was a teen when he was born.” He turns his head but you are looking down at your purse.

"Okay. Just wanted to make sure I had it right." Your hand moves from kneading your purse to gently squeezing his before Chucho looks over at you both and declares it time for wedding bells with a sly wink.

“Pop.” Javi groans, rolling his eyes at how unsubtle his father is being. Lord knows there will be plenty of jokes made around him today, but hinting that you could be married to him soon hurts.

"It's okay, cariño." Your hand on his squeezes again and you smile as you shrug your shoulders. "I don't mind a little teasing. It's a happy day." Without any further comment, you slide out the driver's side door and accept Chucho's hand to climb out carefully, leaving Javi bewildered in the truck.

The bittersweet sound of an endearment makes Javi sigh, climbing out to the truck slowly. “It’s okay.” He murmurs as his father walks ahead. “I’m just going to tell everyone.”

"No." Standing in front of him blocks his way, and you put your hand firmly on his arm. "You're not, Jav." This is what you spent all of yesterday deciding, and the very firm conclusion you came to might embarrass him, but it's a gesture. A glimpse, if he wants it. "You wanted to pretend. To see what it would be like if you were mine and I was yours? Then that's what today is going to be. I won't be inappropriate or anything, but...what's stopping us from just enjoying today?"

His jaw unhinges and immediately heat blasts over his face like he’s been tossed on an oven. Or he’s finally died and been sent to hell. “You— you heard me?” He rasps out, mortified that you had heard him pouring his heart out like a fucking idiot.

"We were in no condition to talk about any of this with how upset we both were that night." Maybe you should have told him yesterday, but it's too late for that now. Either way, you take both of his hands in yours and offer him a smile. "If you truly don't want to see what we could be, then you're at least going to get your wish to pretend."

He closes his eyes, wincing at the way it sounds when you voice it out loud. “Muñeca…” he murmurs helplessly.

"Javi, it's—" You could say that it's okay, but it's not really. It breaks your heart to think that he isn't willing to try, but you know he's been through unimaginable things. Things he will probably never speak about because they're too painful to ever remember that viscerally. "I won't kiss you or anything. I'm not going to force this on you. But at the very least it's Danny's day. We can smile and dance together and chat with your family and not cause a fuss on somebody else's big day." And if you hang on to this feeling for yourself on the cold or the lonely days, that's between you and the universe.

“I—okay.” He nods, opening his eyes and tries not to look like he’s attending a funeral. You know, you know everything he said and he hates that. Hates that you agree with him, knowing that he’s right and it’s the best damn thing for you.

"Okay?" Waiting until he nods again, you slip to his side and slide your hand into his to lace your fingers together. If nothing else, you can walk into the church together.

Your hand is warm, soft in his and he can’t help but squeeze it gently. “You look beautiful, muñeca.” He murmurs quietly. “But you always do.”

"When I bought this dress I got it because I thought you would like it," you admit, turning to smile at him as you walk up the steps together. "I'm glad I actually got to wear it for you."

“Couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Javi admits, remembering the op you had worn it on. “It’s why Ruiz got punched in the fucking mouth.”

You snort — barely covering your mouth in time to muffle the sound at the door of the church. "Seriously?" That split lip had been pretty nasty if you remember it correctly, now you're finally finding out how he got it, it's even better.

“Yeah.” Javi huffs, flexing his hand in yours. His fist had hurt like a motherfucker for three days, but it had been worth it.

"Javi the Big Bad Protector is kind of a turn on, not gonna lie." You murmur, quickly changing gears to smile politely to the ushers welcoming everyone into the wedding.

“He was being an asshole.” Javi grumbles. “Someone had to shut him up.”

"Mi guerrero." It's barely even a tease. Javi is absolutely a warrior, and his battles are more varied than anyone would know.

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t pull away. Guiding you down to the bench where you will sit through the ceremony. “Shut up.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand and touching your back very close to your ass as you start to slide into the bench.

"Yes, Daddy." You tease on a whisper that only he can hear, knowing that he'll hate it but that your tone and the smirk on your face will make him laugh.

He nearly chokes on his own damn spit when he hears you call him ‘daddy’. Grunting as he swears that if God strikes you down, you will deserve it. “Brat.”

"Ooo, don't tell me you like that?" There's a delighted gasp on your lips that turns into a giggle under your breath as he sits down next to you. "I had anticipated the complete opposite reaction."

“Shut up.” Javi glares at you. “I— I don’t like it.” He hisses quietly, even though that’s a bold faced lie. He’s never been called that before and he doesn’t know if he likes it or just like you saying it.

"Okay," you snicker quietly, glancing at him again and nearly erupting into more giggles. "Daddy."

“I swear to God.” He huffs, rolling his eyes.

"Nuh-uh." Wagging one finger at him, you cross your legs and point up at the altar at the front of the church. "Be nice. We're in His house."

“You’re the one calling people ‘daddy’.” He reminds you.

"Not people." The deep frown on his face is a mask for his amusement, and you shift closer to him in the pew with an unapologetic grin. "Just you."

“You’re annoying.” He hisses quietly. “And God is going to strike you down.” He’s joking, trying to hide how much he’s enjoying the banter.

"Maybe." You shrug, knowing you've done a whole lot of shit in your life that God should have already stricken you down for. "It would be a very interesting story."

He rolls his eyes but shifts slightly, throwing his arm on the pew behind you to wrap around your shoulder.

A few people who enter stop to say hello, telling Javier that they're glad to see him and they'll catch up with him at the reception, and a few others wave their greeting, but soon enough the assembled friends and family are on their feet again for the arrival of the bridal party and the wedding is under way.

Weddings are always a sensitive subject, especially with family. It never fails that people will recount how Javi just never showed up. Right now, he’s not concentrating on that. He’s tuned into the pressure of your thigh against his, the causal way you lean into his side with his arm still around you, your hands softly laying on his thigh like you are the couple you are pretending to be.

At one point your head tips, leaning slightly on his shoulder while you listen to the old priest pontificate on the duties of the couple to each other and to God, and even though you won’t let yourself go so far as to imagine marrying him it’s still nice to be a little bored with someone you care about. It’s homey. Domestic. And it makes you smile as you continue to sit there and hold his hand.

He doesn’t know when he had linked his fingers on his other hand with yours, but his arm is stretched out across his body while her other hand is curled around you. Almost protective as he curls around you on the bench and watches as Danny straightens proudly.

You might say it is, but this pretending isn’t just for him. Sure, your not-so-subtle ulterior motive might be to show him what he’s missing, but it’s also so that when you do have to move on - from the DEA and from him - you have these memories locked up to think back on on a rainy day. Maybe it isn’t really that good of an idea, but it’s the one you’ve got. And as the ceremony drones on and you curl into each other more and more, you can’t help but think how right it feels.

When Danny is repeating his vows, Javi leans his head against yours and sighs softly. He’s had one instance where he imagined marrying someone and he couldn’t do it. Until right now.

Squeezing his fingers gently in yours, you can’t quite make yourself look at him during these moments. Promising yourself that you wouldn’t go so far as to imagine you and him up at that altar isn’t much of a promise at all when your mind starts to wander.

Sighing softly, Javi hums when the entire church laughs, a response to the happy couple giggling as Danny lunges forward to kiss his bride before her own vows are said.

“So sweet,” you whisper without realizing it, sounding more than a little misty right next to his ear.

“They are.” Javi turns his head and his nose brushes against your temple where you have lifted your head up slightly.

“They really are.” The moment of tension hangs between you like thick jungle air, tugging on you with determination, but you don’t close the space between you no matter how much you want to. Kissing him is a torture you won’t put yourself through when you know it’s only make believe.

When the vows are finally done and the kiss starts, he hates having to pull away. Standing and clapping with the rest of the church as they turn around with nothing but hope and love in their eyes.

The church’s rec hall is ready and waiting for the influx of guests with bright decorations, cold drinks, and lively music. Chucho has been swept up in the celebratory mood by friends while you and Javi stroll behind at a leisurely pace. Your hand is still in his when you walk in, and right away people are calling it to him and coming over to say hello.

“Javier!” Danny’s mother, his tía, rushes over and smothers him in a hug, as if she didn’t run into him at the hardware store nearly a week ago. Apparently, even though Chucho had told her that he was coming, she hadn’t believed it until now.

She is beaming through happy tears, pulling Javi into her arms and regarding him with the same love that any mother would. "We're glad you could come, changuito."

Javi nods seriously and doesn’t pull away. “Of course, tía.” He murmurs quietly. “I can’t believe Danny is married.”

"He should still be in diapers," his aunt laughs happily, wiping a tear before it can hit her cheek and offering you a smile when she turns her head slightly. "But I hear you're next, eh? This is her?"

He can’t answer that, just nodding as he reaches back for you. Saying your name as he introduces you to his aunt. “This is Gloria, my tía. She is my mother’s sister.”

"I'm so glad to meet you." The hug you offer her is genuine, and the woman is smiling so broadly that she just might break apart if it gets any wider. "You must be so proud."

“Rosa looks so beautiful doesn’t she?” Gloria puffs up proudly as she turns towards the small crowd around the bride and groom. “So good for my Danny.” She hums as she eyes you and Javi. “Like you are for Javier.”

"I try to be." And that is, despite the slight ruse of the day, the honest truth. You have always tried to be there for Javi and be a good partner as well as a good friend. Sometimes bullshit would happen like your stupid moments of jealousy, but it never stopped you from caring about him with your whole heart.

“You are the first woman Javier has brought home.” She informs you proudly. “Lorraine was already here but we knew she wasn’t the one for our boy.”

“Sometimes it takes a few tries to get something right,” you offer, squeezing Javi’s hand gently. “But that’s life, right?”

Javi sighs and rolls his eyes. “I was gone.” He reminds his aunt, knowing this conversation would be repeated a hundred times before the end of the reception.

“And now you’re home.” She aims a wink at him that has you smirking before patting his shoulder. “You kids go get something to drink. I have to make the rounds.”

He huffs in amusement as she hustles away. “Kids.” He shakes his head. She will always view him as a kid despite being closer to forty than twenty.

“You’ll always be a kid to your family.” But the prospect of a drink does sound good, and you nod toward the table laden with bottles and surrounded by coolers. “Shall we?”

“Fuck yes.” Javi groans. The reception might be in the church reception hall, but there is no lack of beer and tequila for the guests. “Please.”

Your peel of laughter makes a few heads turn but you just ignore them, walking with him to the other end of the room and pulling out two bottles of cold beer. The whole thing is cozy and welcoming and you can’t find it in yourself to be upset about your decision to play pretend on a day as phenomenal as today.

As soon as everyone is in the room, the music starts. A mix of speakers and live instruments fill the hall and immediately the tías, abuelas and other women crowd into the kitchen to start bringing out platters of food. Javi knows about ten of the distant cousins had been drinking and cooking the meats out back on their grills during the ceremony so that it would be hot.

Plenty of people come by to make their observations or to unsubtly check you out, but you just smile and greet each of them in turn, keeping close to Javi and sipping your beer. Everyone is nice, despite the few Nosy Nellies, and you’re mostly content to sit and chat until the music makes your ears perk up. I Wanna Dance with Somebody is one of your all time favorite songs. “C’mon,” you insist with a grin, grabbing Javi’s hand. “No one can sit down when Whitney sings. It’s impossible.”

“I don’t–” Javi grunts, wanting to protest but you are pulling him up out of his chair before he can get too far into his grumbling. He sets his bottle down as he groans as he stands up straight.

“I know you can dance.” You remind him, having been to enough clubs together over your months as partners to have seen it a few times. On the rare occasion Javi isn’t working, he moves on a dance floor about as well as you assume he fucks — which is to say extremely well.

“Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.” He grunts, dutifully following you and he wonders if this is going to bite him in the ass.

It’s an energetic song, one that doesn’t leave you lingering in each other’s arms too much, so you thought it would be safe. Rocking back and forth with him, spinning around – all of that should have been perfectly fine. You just forgot, in a moment of madness, how much you like having his hands on you.

The beat is one that it is easy to move to. The other couples jostling about on the floor makes for him to move closer, pull you into his arms as you both move. Confining you together for the song as Whitney croons about dancing with someone who loves her.

It shouldn’t have been seductive in any way. It’s a light, joyful song. But the crush of every other guest who had the same impulse as you means one of Javi’s arms is wrapped tight around your waist as you move together, and the rhythm you’ve found is a much more silky smooth than you anticipated.

You are pressed against him, nearly grinding against him in a way that makes his breath catch. His fingers dig into your hips and he pants in your ear, not from the vigorous beat, but from trying to control his cock.

It’s the sound that makes your eyes tick up to his. His head is right beside yours and that proximity is a challenge all on its own, but it’s his breath that makes you find his eyes. It’s worry, or else it’s an attempt to check in with him, but what you see is that his deep brown eyes have turned almost black and his cheeks have pinked to the point of blush.

"Muñeca..." He grunts quietly, watching your eyes as they shift back and forth between his own and your damn gaze drops down to his lips. Making him lick them by force of habit.

It’s a bad idea. Truly. Probably a horrible idea. But your other hand has a mind of its own when it comes up to touch his cheek and ends up cupping his jaw in an unbelievably intimate gesture. “Javi…”

The soft plea in your voice breaks him. Smashes through every barrier he has attempted to erect to stay away. All it takes is a call of his name and a hand on his cheek and he is throwing away every vow he had made towards you. Lunging forward and capturing your lips with his and he molds you against him.

Blissfully unaware of all the tittering and the many watchful eyes, your whole reality has narrowed down to Javier as you cling to him. His kiss is as firm as his hold on you, promising luxuries and indulgence in the same breath that it threatens to break you apart to be worshiped piece by piece. It’s a kiss you can’t help but get lost in, and you surrender to it completely.

Javier had never been one for grand, public gestures. His intimacies – his dalliances – were always kept discreet, both for the sake of the women he was with and because he had been raised to not kiss and tell. Right now, he doesn't care about that, simply closing his eyes and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

The sound of a throat clearing doesn’t phase either of you, but being nudged almost makes you fall over as you had seemingly forgotten about everything but each other. “You’re still in a church, mijo.” His tía, Gloria, chides in an amused whisper. “There’s kids around.”

He clears his throat and drops his hands from your waist, eyes slightly shocked as he takes a step back. "Sorry." He murmurs quietly to his aunt.

“No one would notice if you needed to sneak away,” she teases before drifting off again, and as nice a woman as Gloria is, you could curse her for her timing.

Swallowing, Javi manages a small smile, knowing that he would not be able to sneak away with you. Kissing you shouldn't have even happened. "We're good."

“Maybe we should get something to eat.” The way he moved away from you made it feel like you burned him or forced him, and you can’t stand the thought of that.

“Of course, muñeca.” Javi is grateful to have something to focus on and his hand burns on your lower back as he turns you towards the tables laden down with food. You feel like you ought to apologize or something, but you don't want to. That kiss was every bit as perfect as you always knew it would be and you hate that he seems to regret it.

"Gloria's arepas are the best you will ever taste." He murmurs quietly. "But steer clear of her tamales." He warns. "They will give you heartburn and gas for a week."

"Maybe I want that," you joke, but steadily bypass the large bowl of tamales. "Get the dog back for farting on me every night."

“I don’t know what Pop is feeding him, but the smell is brutal.” Javi chuckles. “Oh, grab one of those.” He points to a small plate with a few pastries left. “You won’t regret it.”

"What is it?" Never one to turn up your nose at sweets, you immediately snap up one of the goodies for yourself and one for him.

“It’s some kind of yucca thing.” He shrugs and grins at you. “Never learned the name but they are fucking addictive.”

"We're gonna have to learn if they're as good as all that." The table of food is laid with all manner of Mexican and Texan home cooking, along with a few classic Southern staples and one dish that it seems like no one is willing to touch so you bypass it all together. An empty table along the wall is as good a place to sit as any and you head in that direction with Javi at your heels.

He had grabbed two fresh beer bottles as you had passed the drink table. Setting them down when you choose a spot and set your plate down. “I’ll grab some napkins.” He offers, realizing you both forgot them.

There is a little tittering around you at the table when Javi walks away - friends or family or just acquaintances who must have seen what happened on the dance floor or just heard that Javi has finally brought a girl home to meet the family. You ignore them dutifully, popping the bottle caps of your cold beers with the lighter from your purse, and sit back at the table to wait the mere thirty seconds it will take him to get napkins. Provided, of course, that he doesn't get sidelined by anyone on the way.

Javi grabs the napkins, turning around and heading back towards the table. Shaking his head as he watches everyone around you watching as if you are a fascinating creature.

“So you really haven’t ever brought a girl home.” When he comes back to you there’s an amused smirk on your face and nothing more. “You’d think I had a tail or something.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. "I don't get it." He grumbles. "You would think that I was some kind of socially inept virgin or something." He knows why they are watchful. They've only ever seen him with Lorraine and couldn't possibly imagine him with anyone since he had never spoken of a woman.

“Or just a commitment-phobe.” Which you know is the real case. Javier flits from partner to partner like a hummingbird.

"Hmmm." Javi shrugs and picks up his bottle of beer. "There's that too." He acknowledges.

“It’s not the end of the world,” you shrug and pick up your fork, not wanting to give him the entire girlfriend-at-a-family-wedding experience, which definitely would have included some teasing about a ring. Instead, you’ll eat. Eating is safe.

"It's what happens when you don't show up to your last wedding." He tells you, taking a sip of his beer. "Elated that his fiancée finally had that stubbornly absent period that had you considering walking down the fucking aisle in the first place. Convenient that it was the night before we were getting married. Isn't it?"

"Marriage isn't for everybody." According to the people that knew him best, it was Lorraine that wasn't for him, but you aren't going to pick at an open wound. Instead you press your thigh against his while you sit and eat together, offering him a moment of grounding and comfort. "It's better that the two of you didn't drag yourselves through an angry marriage or an even worse divorce."

“And god forbid…kids.” Javi grunts. He would have never wanted to put a child through that shit.

"So you did what was best for you. Maybe it didn't seem nice at the time, but it was a hell of a lot nicer than the alternative." After all, Javi isn't a bad guy. Just a little unconventional in his methods. It's part of what you like so much about him. That the only person's expectations he bows to are his own.

“It’s for the best.” Javi shrugs slightly and picks up an arepa to take a large bite if it. “She’s here, by the way.”

"Oh?" That has you looking around the room instantly, as covertly as you can. "Where?"

He chuckles, not missing the instant curiosity that overcomes your features. You want to know what his ex looks like. “Over by the dessert table.” He hums. “The blonde in the flowery dress.”

"Interesting." She isn't what you would have guessed for him at all, but again, this is the woman that everyone says was so wrong for him. "She looks so..." You cringe apologetically. "Boring."

That comment catches him off guard and he snorts back a laugh. “That’s new.” He admits. “But kinda. You’re right. She wanted me to give up being a cop. Work for her daddy.”

"You could never give up being a cop." You shake your head, not able to imagine him doing anything else. Javier Peña was born to put bad guys away, no matter what form he did it in. "Like it's a damn good thing that Chucho has your cousins basically running the ranch, because you're a crime fighting guy to the bones."

“She hated it.” Javi shrugs. “I get it. It’s not an easy life.” He could have respected if she hadn’t been able to handle it. It was trying to change him that bothered him so much.

"That's for damn sure." It's also part of why you had never held onto a relationship long enough for it to be considered long-term. "Every guy I've ever dated has fully expected me to quit my job and get pregnant immediately. They want to turn me into a perfect little housewife. Now I'm not saying I'm against being a housewife, but it's just not for me."

“I don’t think any man would be happy to have his pregnant wife chasing sicarios, muñeca.” He murmurs. “I would chain you to your desk.”

"Who says I want kids? Who says I even want to get married?" You do, but for the sake of this exercise you're willing to be theoretical with him. "Having a conversation about it, or deciding together – that's different. But informing me that I will be living how they want me to with no other option because 'the man knows best' is just intolerable." It earns him a raised eyebrow from you. "If you tried to chain me to my desk, I'd knee you in the balls."

“I would take the pain if it meant you were not running across rooftops in the communas while you are pregnant.” He jokes, although he is kind of serious. “Limit it to one ball though. I would need the other if you wanted a second baby.”

He seems not to be entirely terrified of the topic, so you humor him with a smirk as you eat your arepa. "No running across rooftops if you ever knock me up, and you only get kicked in one ball instead of both. Got it. See? That's a compromise."

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, trying to ignore the thought of what would go into knocking you up. “So generous.” He grumbles sarcastically.

"It's fairly realistic, considering how stubborn we both are." You point out, enjoying the way it makes his cheeks turn pink to talk about. It's nice to know you aren't alone in the daydream even if he will never let it come to anything.

“You would try or threaten to shoot me within a month.” Humor seems to be a safe place to stand, especially when he can still feel your lips on his.

"I would not shoot you." It makes you laugh to imagine, though, and you manage to pull yourself back from the thought of getting pregnant to just being pregnant. "Unless the hormones get to me. Then I can't be held responsible."

“No gun when hormonal.” He hums, leaning back and grinning. “Got it.”

"It might finally get those CIA fuckers in line though." A thought which makes you fully guffaw. "An armed and pregnant DEA agent would be just enough of a pain in the ass to make them avoid me."

Javi laughs with you, aware that you would be given a wide berth if that were the case. “Escobar would be scared of you.” He jokes. “He would just– turn himself in.”

"In that case I need to be pregnant and on a plane back to Colombia immediately." The two of you giggling together is such a catharsis that you lean back in your chair and throw your whole self into laughing. "It would be studied in academy texts for years."

“They would be sending knocked up women to all the investigations.” He predicts. “Duty station of choice if you’re squeezing out a kid.”

You snort, taking a sip of your beer as you conjure that image in your mind. "But you have to be kept around your husband while you're there, and your husband isn't allowed to do a goddamn thing to help you ever. They need pregnant women who are at their maximum level of frustration."

“They are required to leave their dirty underwear on the floor.” Javi adds. “Especially when she’s too big to see her feet.”

"Tripping on dirty underwear sounds like the actual fastest way to make anyone mad." It earns him another snort, though, and you have to put the rest of your arepa down because you're laughing so hard. "There's wiretaps in everything so the second they hear your voice start to rise or worse...if you actually want to spend time with him? He's instantly sent to a poker night with his boys or something."

“He has to get drunk at the bar and come stumbling home to piss in your favorite potted plant.” Javi snorts. It’s good to see you relaxed, happy and laughing. Even better that it’s with him and he doesn’t want the moment to end.

"Nooo!" You frown instantly, pouting dramatically to make him laugh. "Not my plants!"

“Your favorite plants!” He insists, grinning and shaking his head. “And of course it dies a painful death.”

"Murphy's gonna fuckin' kill my plants." This time the pout is real, but you still chuckle through it, knowing that it isn't the end of the world. "If I ever get back to Colombia, I'll be starting from scratch."

“You will.” Javi predicts seriously. “You are going to go back. I know it.”

"Hopefully we both get to go back." It would be the nail in the coffin of any prayer of a relationship with him that you could have, but at least he would be happy. He would still be in your life, and you would both have your work, and you would make it okay as long as he got to be happy.

“That would be good.” You’re a damn fine agent and they would be lucky to have you back again.

"You deserve to be there." More than anyone else, Javi deserves to be in that fight and everyone knows it. "But just in case I can't go back with you, you gotta tell them about our pregnant agent plan, okay?"

“I will.” Javi’s already made up his mind. If he has to cash in every favor he has, he’s going to send you back to Colombia.

"Javier." An ice cold voice from behind you says his name like he's about to be sent to the principal's office, and you nearly jolt in your seat from the interruption of the surprisingly soft moment you were just having. To your surprise and amusement, the figure standing over your shoulder is a boring-looking blonde with a very curious look on her face. "Didn't expect to see you here."

“Lorraine.” Javi nods and sits up, halfway rising out of his chair but then he decides to stay seated. “I could say the same.” He admits. “How have you been?”

"Never better." She tips her nose up, giving you the distinct impression that she's lying. "Randy and I were just getting the kids ready to go home, but I thought I should at least say hello." Lorraine bristles slightly, casting an eye down at you. "Since the odds of seeing you at a wedding are so slim and all."

Javi takes the barb, accepting that out of everyone, she has the right to say something. “Apparently it’s just my own that I have an aversion to.” He jokes before he introduces you to his ex.

"Yes," she sniffs slightly when you put out your hand to her in the only polite gesture you can muster in the moment. "The girlfriend. I heard."

The venom in her tone surprises Javi, considering she’s gone on to marry Randy and have two children. Who are currently playing with his cousin’s kids. He watches as you shake hands and he feels the need to curl his arm around your shoulders. “Word travels fast, apparently.” He hums.

“It’s all over town.” She barely puts her hand in yours, weakly bent wrist and fingers as floppy as a fish snatched away as quickly as possible.

“People like to gossip.” He shrugs causally. “Wouldn’t be the first time people have talked about me.”

“You never give them reason not to,” she snipes, before standing up straight as a post again, like the stick inside her ass just reset itself.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Her prim Church Lady Holier-Than-Thou bullshit almost has you careening up out of your chair but you keep your voice down to a hiss. This is somebody else’s big day and you’re not here to ruin that. “Did you seriously come over here just to say ‘hey I still hate you’?”

Javi unwinds his arm from around you, dropping it down to your thigh to squeeze it. “It’s okay, muñeca.” He reassures you softly. He doesn’t want a scene at his cousin’s wedding. He flashes her an apologetic look and his eyes slide towards her husband and children. “Seems like things worked out.” He points out. “You look….happy.”

“No thanks to you.” Lorraine looks you over, clearly turning up her nose when her appraisal is over, and huffs. “Anyway, I heard you’re not staying. That’s for the best.”

“It depends.” Javi is annoyed with her tone, but he grins, lacing his fingers with yours. “I think she likes the idea of a hometown family wedding.”

“I want whatever you want, mi guerrero.” However doting it might have sounded by accident, the soft sentiment and wistful tone in your voice is honest. If he decides to take the chance, you would drive in with him wholeheartedly.

It's not to annoy Lorraine, who used to plaster herself to Javi's side and beg him for kisses when they were out on the town, but simply because he wants to. He leans in and presses his lips to yours softly. "I love you." The words are said because they are true and you have heard them. You know how he feels because of his confession.

The stiff, priggish huff from above you makes no difference at this moment. All that matters in the soft, warm press of his lips and the way his words warm through you completely. If it’s the only time you’ll ever hear them like this, you’re going to savor them forever. “I love you, too.”

Javi hums, nudging his nose against yours before he pulls back. His heart thumping in his chest as you smile at him. When you finally look up again, drifting back to reality on the gorgeous feeling of lightness, Lorraine is nowhere in sight. "I think we annoyed her," you giggle softly, wishing you had the freedom to steal another kiss.

"I wasn't trying to do that." Javi hums, even though he is grinning back at you. "Not really. It's just a...perk."

"I would have thought it was the other way around." One hand finds his cheek softly, but you don't let the feeling linger. The last time you touched him even innocently, it had set you on fire.

He hates when you pull away, wanting to lean into your touch and chase your fingers on his skin. "Do you want to leave soon?" He asks. "Since we have ruffled some feathers?"

"Only if you do." A glimpse of a blonde walking out the door says that Lorraine is leaving, and people will always gossip no matter what, but if Javi is enjoying himself then you'll stay here forever. "This is your family, we can stay as long as you want."

"We can leave." Javi hums. He's full and the gossip is going to ramp up. He would rather not make you endure the entire saga of his canceled wedding.

"We should let your dad know." Especially if he wants to go home. Taking the truck means Chucho will either need to call you to come pick him up later or he'll need to get a ride from one of his numerous friends.

Javi nods, wiping his hands on his jeans as he stands. "I'll go let Pop know."

There are several rounds of goodbyes, ultimately, and Javi's family showers you in affectionate hugs and dozens of cheek kisses before sending the two of you on your way. "They love you," you hum, not dropping his hand as you stroll out of the building into the later afternoon sun.

"It's because I'm not around." Javi snorts as he guides you towards the truck, keys in hand. "They remember the boy I was."

"You're still worth loving." And the idea that he would think anything different is utterly ridiculous to your mind.

"Maybe." Javi doesn't dwell on it, moving to open the passenger door for you and watching you as you approach it.

"Definitely." And you're not going to get in the damn truck while he's being self-deprecating. "You're a better man than you give yourself credit for."

He rolls his eyes, not believing you, but he figures this is something you are going to be stubborn about. "Yeah, okay, sure." He huffs after a long moment. "Will you get in the truck?"

"One day you're going to believe me," you promise him, relenting and climbing into the cab.

"Perhaps." Javi sighs. "Or perhaps you will believe me."

"Nope." There are very few things in the world he could ever do to make you lose respect for him or stop loving him – and they really are things that Javier Peña would never do. "We're both too stubborn for our own good. Deal with it."

"Whatever you say." He rolls his eyes again, lips trying to suppress his grin as he closes the door to walk around the hood. You are just as stubborn as he is, but he doesn't mind you believing in him.

The drive back to the ranch is mostly quiet. The radio plays while Javi drives, and halfway down the long road from downtown out to the house, you take a chance on slipping your hand over his on the gear shift. He accepts it wordlessly, like he has the rest of today, but the warmth that runs through you is inescapable.

It's only when you are pulling back up to the ranch that Javi pulls his hand away. Hating the loss of your warmth, he looks over at you once the engine is cut. "Hell of a day."

“Not too bad, hopefully?” The idea of the exercise, of acting like his girlfriend all day, was never to tease or taunt him. But just to give you both a moment of warmth in the midst of everything that was seeming to go wrong.

"No, it was a pretty good day." He admits, staring at you as if he is making a decision. Fighting himself once again.

“And now we have some time to do whatever we want.” Although you wonder what that would be. He could suggest almost anything and you would agree.

"Muñeca." His jaw clenches and he takes a breath. "I– I don't know what's going to happen in D.C." He reminds you. "But, we have tonight."

“Are you…” Sitting there in the cab of his father’s truck, you can practically feel your jaw hit the floorboards. “Are you…suggesting that we evict MacGyver?”

"Unless you want the dog to watch?" He asks, lifting a brow in amusement.

You practically climb over the center console, fusing your lips to his greedily and letting one hand cup his cheek as the other finds its way into his hair with the depth of the kiss. He could invite the entire town to watch and you wouldn’t care.

Javi groans your name against your lips, immediately crushing you against him and his hands turn greedy. Pulling you out of the truck and pressing you against the side. The neediness is only matched by how giddy you feel, and the second you’re both out of the truck you’re pulling him toward the house. “Can’t get in trouble for fucking while we were both suspended.”

"Fuck it." Javi is already unbuttoning his shirt when he has to take his hands off of you. Dropping it on the front porch.

When you come together again it’s like an explosion. One that scatters clothing and moans to the wind and sends both dogs skittering in confusion. Pieces of furniture or doorways in the way are staging areas that you will be pressed against on your way back to the bedroom and nothing more.

At the entrance to the bedroom, Javi licks into your mouth desperately, his cock grinding against you. "Muñeca." He murmurs, kissing along your jaw once he can tear his lips away from yours. "I love you."

“I love you, too.” Your dress lays discarded in the hallway somewhere, your shoes and purse and Javi’s shoes and belt along with it. There will be no doubt of what the two of you have gotten up to when Chucho gets home, but neither of you is even thinking of that right now. Right now Javi is steering you blindly toward the bed and your hands are trying desperately to open his jeans before he manages it.

By the time that the back of your knees hit the bed, his hand has abandoned his jeans. Certain that you would take care of freeing him from the tight confines of the denim, he plunges his thick fingers into your panties, twisting his hand and finding your folds.

“Oh shit—” He swallows your moan completely, adding one of his own to it when you finally manage to pop the buttons on his jeans and get your hand inside. His cock is a s hard as your pussy is wet, making both of you cling that much tighter to each other as you topple backward into the mattress.

"Fuck your cunt is hot." He groans, pushing his fingers deeper, pushing them up inside you to curl up. It's just as hot and tight as he had imagined, several times while he was inside another woman, but he wouldn't tell you that.

“Jesus—fuck—oh my god, Javi—” You knew he would be good. Dozens of women didn’t hang on his every fucking word and expression for no reason. But to feel it is something so utterly different that it has scrambled your mind almost immediately.

"So sweet." He nips your jaw and pumps his fingers into your heat slowly. "Jesus Christ, you feel so good. Imagined this cunt. How you would feel around me."

“Imagined how good your cock would feel.” With one hand around his length, the long strokes you make up and down have his veins pulsing gorgeously. “Jeans don’t leave a goddamn thing to the imagination.”

"Fuck." He hisses, rolling his hips forward. "They are comfortable."

“Drive me fucking crazy every single day.” You pump his cock eagerly, every thrust of his fingers making you nearly grip too tight.

"You fucking drove me crazy." He moans. "C–constantly visiting Gabby to get you out of my head."

“Named my favorite dildo Javi,” you admit with a smirk, twisting underneath him to unclasp your bra. “Still not as good as this cock is going to be.”

"You don't know that." He smirks and ducks his head down to bite your nipple and then sucks on it when you pull your bra off. "Could be horrible at fucking."

“Doubtful.” The way you gasp and undulate under him is practically making the windows fog and you couldn’t give less of a shit. “Very fucking doubtful. I’ve seen the cock drunk looks on the typists’ faces the next day.”

He chuckles and hums as he sucks on your breast again. "I didn't care about them." He reminds you.

“Neither do—fuck—I.” That tongue of his is going to be the death of you. Clever with words but cleverer with pleasure. “Was so fucking jealous, though.”

"They weren't you." He coos, kissing up your chest and then pressing his lips to yours. "No one was you."

The fluttering that carries through you is so deep and so true that you stop altogether, caressing his cheek with your other hand. “I love you, cariño. Since the day we met, I think. There’s just…there’s no one in the world like you.”

"Can't account for taste." He teases gently, nuzzling in your hand. He closes his eyes and sighs softly. "I love you."

“I love you.” As many times as he says it, you will repeat it back to him, reminding him that he is not alone in this feeling. That he never has to be alone again. “And no piece of shit bureaucrat is going to stop me.”

He hums and then starts to tug your panties down. Wanting to touch you. “Fuck–fuck, need a condom.” He needs to be inside you but he's not bought condoms in forever and he damn sure wouldn't trust any that were in this room.

“I’m safe.” The idea of stopping now, when he has your panties halfway down your thighs and his cock out for you to drool over, is absolutely unacceptable. “Thank god for birth control, right?”

"Best invention ever." Javi groans, rushing to kiss you again before he pulls away to his knees so he can strip off your panties and kick off his jeans.

If you giggle at his enthusiasm it’s only because it matches your own. The erratic way your heart is beating says everything needs to: whatever comes next, this night is just for the two of you. It’s probably less suave than he would have imagined, sliding between your thighs. Need making him impatient and fumbling. It had been a long time since he had been so emotionally connected during something like this.

The first kiss of pressure when he slides the head of his cock through your dripping folds and begins to push forward is ecstasy. There is no thought for who else either of you may have touched, no moment of claiming or possession. It is togetherness in the purest sense of the term that has you gasping out loud, moaning his name into the Texas sunset. It feels like you’ve finally found the missing piece of you when Javi fills you completely, and your arching back brings you up to press as much of your body against his as you can manage.

Every second inside you makes his breathing ragged. Now because of the physical act, he’s had sex, great sex. It’s because it’s you. It feels like home. It’s the only way he can describe the way his entire body simultaneously lights up and goes numb to all but the slightest sounds you make as your eyes flutter close and the most delicate whine rips from your parted lips.

“Javi…” Breathing his name again, you wrap one arm around his shoulders and the other braces on the bed beneath you. Like this you can meet every thrust and ply kisses from him with every roll of your hips.

“Fuck, muñeca.” Javi groans, holding you closer as he starts a pace that isn’t quite frantic but enthusiastic.

“So f—fucking perfect.” Already there are beads of sweat down your back and along your forehead, the movements of your bodies eager and fierce as you come together.

His teeth snap together as he pushes into you harder, enough to make your body jolt and a perfect little squeal erupt from your chest.

“Fuck!” It’s good – so good – it’s perfect – the way he feels buried in your pussy, but you need more. You need to be branded by every inch of him so that you can return to this night over and over again in the years to come. “Let me—on your back, baby. Wanna ride you.”

He groans, nodding as he steals a last kiss before reluctantly pulling away. “You knew this was going to happen when we danced.” He pants, accusing you of planning this, but only playfully.

“Hoped.” You can admit that as he sprawls out on his back, giving you the chance to admire him before you straddle his hips and line yourself up to sink down on him. “Honestly thought I was being well behaved for not choosing a slow song.”

“Slow would have been better,” he groans, grabbing your hip when you reach down and wrap your talented hand around his cock. Lifting up so you can take him again. “Driven me crazy.”

“Then we’re even.” Another whine tears from your throat as you sink down on him, but there is no adjustment period this time. Your cunt is slick enough to take three of him and you’re not about to lose this moment to anything. Encouraging his other hand up to your tits, you start to move with the kind of enthusiasm that has sweat beading on your skin all over again.

You look like a fucking goddess. Or maybe a siren. Either way, you tempt him to reach for more. His hands squeeze and hold you like he is afraid you will slip out of his grasp.

“Dreamed about this.” It all comes tumbling out of your mouth as you bounce on him, tight walls of your pussy welcoming him deep inside you every time. “Riding you on the fuck—file room floor. Getting you to bend me over your desk and claim me.”

“You– you like that kind of thing?” Javi groans and twitches deep inside your cunt when you clench around him.

“Not before you,” you admit, looking down at him as you roll and twist your hips. “Now I want it so bad.”

He groans again, hisses slightly at how good it feels when you do that. “Why?” He gasps out.

"You. Would shout it from the f–fuck–ing rooftops." The moan that escapes you is loud enough that you're grateful no one else is home. That, and the fact that you've never been this fucking chatty during sex before. Chucho would find out a whole lot about you if he was home.

He chuckles, more like gasps in amusement as you slam down on his cock again. Groaning your name as he watches you bounce on him. “Fuck, fuck baby.”

"So fucking good." His hand on your hip grips you tightly and you never falter in your pace, working you both toward an end that is going to leave both of you rattling.

“Jesus Christ.” Javi hisses, throwing his head back into the pillow as his hips jerk up. “Fuck baby, you– oh fuck.”

"Didn't think you were the only good lay at the embassy, did you?" You tease, breathless and moaning at the way his cock seems to drill all the way into your belly when you slam your hips down to meet his again.

"You– fuck, you develop a reputation?" He asks, smirking up at you and moaning again when you roll your hips.

"CIA fucks tried." Not that you had let them anywhere near you. They weren't Javi, first of all, and they didn't give you an ounce of respect. Kind of like the guys from Milgroup who tried to get in your pants before they knew you were an agent. "Only wanted you."

He hums, proud of that even though it wasn't fair how much he indulged. Right now they don't matter, nothing matters but you and he lunges up to kiss you.

It catches you off guard enough to send you tumbling to the mattress again, and Javier is above you again before sliding back inside you so easily that the wet pull of your cunt is barely an echo of the way all your nerve endings set off one by one. You were already so close to cumming that your legs were beginning to shake, and the look in his eyes says you're about to be pounded in the mattress in the most breathless and loving way possible.

There has always been an edge to his fucking, a roughness that normally presents itself in the bite of his teeth or harshness if his grip. This time, he uses the sharp snaps of his hips to make sure that you feel every inch of his cock pummel your pussy as he stakes his claim on you.

It's exactly what you said you wanted -- this feeling of being claimed – and you simply let go. He can have you any way he wants as long as he is still fucking you and you won't have a single thing to say about it except to ask for more.

The muscle in his jaw and neck strain as he rocks into you at a pace that keeps your moans breathless and ragged. Hissing again at how good it feels to be inside you.

"Oh fuck — oh fuck, Javi–" His name barely makes it past your lips as your hands tighten on him and you let out another, tighter cry. The air is full of the wet slap of skin on skin and your body is pulling tight as a bowstring. "I'm gonna cum baby, fuck."

“Yes.” Javi groans. “Yesssss.” Feeling your body start to buck and tremble under him and he keeps driving into you. Wanting you to cum for him.

It doesn't take more than another three or four strokes before your vision turns white and stars spark behind your eyes, a long moan pouring from your open lips and his name following after it like he has just fucked it out of the depths of his soul with the last thrust.

Right when you clench down on him, Javi's entire body stiffens. Unable to do more than just tumble over the edge after you and thrust deep, feeling the purest pleasure he has ever known wrack his body as your orgasm heightens his own.

"Holy hell." When you can breathe again you're immediately reaching to wrap your arms around him, pulling Javi close and keeping him there with no thought to having his weight pressing you further into the bed.

Humming, Javi's body relaxes and he sighs as he turns his head to snuggle into your neck and kiss your pulse. "Like that?"

"I'll..." You swallow the bittersweet reality of it as you lie with him in your arms. "I'll never forget it." You can promise him that. Even if tomorrow comes and he wants these moments kept in the folder in his mind meant for daydreams, you will never forget a single second of it.

He groans quietly and shakes his head. "Hard to ever forget."

"I won't say it again if you don't want me to, but...I love you, Javi." The pretending was worth it. You don't regret the decision for a second. But putting your feelings back on the shelf is going to be harder than you had originally thought, and you already knew it was going to be difficult.

"I love you too." Javi pulls back and reaches up to caress your face gently and kiss you one more time before he starts to pull out of you gently.

“Bet you didn’t have this on your Bingo card for having me stay at the ranch.” Laughter is good, it keeps you from sinking down or thinking too much about how this really might be a once in a lifetime experience.

"No," Javi can admit that, rolling onto his back and wishing that he could have a cigarette. Chucho didn't allow smoking in the house and he didn't want to put on pants and go outside. He opens one arm and offers you a place to snuggle up. "I don't think you expected it either."

"Expect? No." His open arm is beckoning you and you curl up against him happily. A cigarette would be fucking perfect right now but you're not even sure where you dropped your purse even if Chucho did allow it inside. "But a girl can hope."

"It's hard to resist you." He admits, looking up at the ceiling as his arm closes around you and his fingers start to map your skin gently. "Hardest thing I've ever fucking done. And I failed."

“Can’t say I’m upset about it, honestly.” If you even claimed it that would be a horrible lie. His soft touches are as tantalizing as his rougher ones, and it is making your skin tingle.

“I gathered.” He hums, smirking slightly. “If I could move I would be having a cigarette right now.” He admits, laughing at himself.

"You and me both," you hum back, feeling a tiny bit embarrassed with how your mouth ran away with you.

“We have D.C. in a few days.” Javi thinks out loud as he watches the fan spin lazily.

"I know." It will mean going back to being coworkers. Leaving this day – this night – behind you and being professional again. You've already gotten suspended for fucking one partner. You don't need to get in trouble for both.

"If I get fired, I've decided that I'm going to come back here." He announces softly, turning his head and looking over at you. "What will you do? Any plans?"

“I have no idea.” And considering you’re pretty certain that you’ll end up getting the boot, you should probably think about it. “Could see if the Marshals will take me back. Or try local PD wherever I end up, I suppose.”

"You know....Pop likes you." He ventures, not daring to look over at you while he broaches the subject. "And MacGuyver is in love with you too. Poor boy would be missing all the love you shower on him. And the scraps you slip him."

It isn’t as subtle or smooth as he thinks it is, the way he lays the idea out for you to consider, and you turn your head to watch him inspect the ceiling instead of actually looking at you. “Are you asking me to stay, Jav? As in stay with you?”

He swallows slightly and opens his mouth a few times, half sounds coming out before he closes it again. Sighing as he rolls his head to the side to meet your gaze and nodding. "Guess I am." He shrugs one shoulder and shoots you a self deprecating grin. "If that's something you would want if you get fired."

“Alright,” you manage to swallow an almost giddy sound and nod, holding yourself to just a broad smile. “If we get fired, I’ll stay.”

"Alright." He nods back at you and tries to smother the pleased look on his face. "If we get fired, we will get into Pop's hair."

“I don’t want to ruin the mood…” you sigh despite yourself. “What if only one of us gets fired?”

"If you get fired, you have a place here then too." He promises, frowning slightly as he tries to imagine what he would do. "If I get fired..." he shakes his head. "You have Pop's number." He grunts. "If you need anyone to talk to when you're on a stakeout."

“If I get fired, you want me to keep living with your dad?” It’s sweet, actually, the way he twists the situations and tries not to overstep. It’s not like you have anywhere else to go, but the way he says it is sweet and almost tentative.

"He's old and he snores way too loud when he's in that damn recliner...." Javi jokes, his hand sliding up and down your back. "But I know he would love the company. Especially if you keep making that one recipe."

“He grows so many damn leeks in his garden, I don’t know how he wasn’t making potato leek soup for years already.” Chancing it, you place a kiss on his shoulder and just let yourself smile. “I don’t want this to be the end either, Jav…I just don’t want you to feel like you have to offer me a place here.”

"I know I don't." His brows knit together and he shakes his head. "That's not why I'm offering. I– if you don't want to stay, you don't have to."

“I want to be with you,” you clarify, and lean up on your arm in his bed. “Fired or otherwise. Long distance or right in the same bed. Fuck, I’d go back to Colombia as a civilian if you asked me to. But only if that’s what you really want.”

"I don't know what will happen, muñeca." He admits softly. "But I don't want to go back to pretending that you are just my work partner."

“Then we will figure it out.” The lines in his face crease when he frowns, all except the slight crows feet by his eyes, and you trace them with your finger without realizing really what you’re doing. “We’ll see what the big bosses say, and we’ll figure out what it means for us.” You shoot him a sly smirk. “And the dog is going to have to learn how to sleep elsewhere again, because leaving the door open isn’t gonna happen anymore.”

"Oh yeah?" The frown slides into a grin that is slightly mischievous. "Why is that?"

“Because,” you pretend to roll your eyes, like you’re sighing over him not getting your joke even though he’s teasing. “As much as I love MacGyver? I’d rather we have the freedom to fall asleep naked, exhausted, and smelling like really good sex.”

"Really good sex." He grunts, his hand coming down to squeeze your ass. "So I need to tell Pop not to poke his head in and check on us during the night anymore."

“Probably for the best.” You snort, not realizing he had been doing that at all. “Unless you want your dad to get an eye full.”

"Might excite the old man into having a heart attack." He chuckles. "Damn near stopped my heart."

“All respect and love to Chucho, but that’s not a view of me I want him to have.” Javier, however? He could tie you up naked to enjoy the view and your only question would be if he was ever going to join you.

"Then I suggest we share a shower before pop gets home." He hums. "We could always sneak out to the back porch to smoke a cigarette naked. No one workin' today."

“Depends.” Sitting up again, you stretch your arms over your head and sigh out happily. “Do you need a little longer? Because I was going to suck your cock in the shower.”

"Fuck." Javi groans, and his cock twitches slightly. "Cigarette, shower, then another cigarette."

“You’re on.” The giggle that floats out of you is easy and free, and you glance back at the shut door guiltily. “And we should probably pick up the mess we made on our way in.”

"Less Pop knows we stripped in the house, the less shit we get." He admits, patting your ass in appreciation and watching you sit up.

“Then get your ass moving, Peña.” You grin and shake your own a little when you get up. “I’m gonna track down my purse.”

"You know you were never actually my boss, right?" He grumbles as he stands up and stretches, scratching his ass before he follows you out of the room. "Being bossy doesn't mean you're the boss."

“Oh, I know I wasn’t before this.” When you smirk at him over your shoulder, it’s devilish. “But we’ve crossed over, cariño. The rules have changed. Girlfriends are always the boss.”

"Great." He scoffs, shaking his head and trying not to smirk. "That's just fuckin' great."

******

"Agent Peña, how much do you know about the Cali Cartel?" The question hangs in the air thicker than cigarette smoke, with Spencer staring down his nose at Javier like a headmaster with an exceptional yet naughty pupil.

Javi shifts in his seat, slightly exhausted from the night of hotel sex that you and he had indulged in. Since you both had to pay for your lodging, he had booked a room that had a jacuzzi tub in the middle of the room and a mirror on the ceiling over the bed. It had been a good fucking night. "I do." He nods, looking back at the man in confusion. He had been brought here for a disciplinary meeting was the working assumption.

"How much?" Spencer prompts again, leaning forward in his chair. If Peña is going to be useless to him then it doesn't matter. But if he has his nose in as much information as people seem to think he does, then Javier Peña may still be an asset to the agency.

Javi shifts and repositions in the chair and stares at the bureaucrat. "Run by Gilberto and Miguel Rodriguez, Cali is estimated to produce over eight percent of the cocaine in the world." He tells him conversationally. "Less violent than Escobar, at least publically. The ‘Gentlemen of Cali’ have legitimate businesses that cover their less than legal enterprises and I'd put their operation at about..." He bobbles his head. "Twenty billion dollars per year."

"Have you had dealings with them? Run-ins? Good information? Things that can be worked with?" Information is its own kind of currency, and Spencer isn't trying to sound greedy for it but that definitely is what he is.

"Their second in command – at least as much as you could call him that – Pacho Herrera, was involved with Escobar." He senses that Spencer wants what Javi knows and pounces on that. "I've still got plenty of connections that deal with him." He shrugs. "Personal ones, you know?"

"Ones that will only work with you." Spencer nods in understanding. Sometimes that is the way criminal informants operate. Everyone in law enforcement understands.

"That's right." He agrees, leaning back in his chair slightly. Waiting for the man to offer the opportunity. From the tone of the meeting it was coming.

"When you're reinstated we'll need you to initiate contact again right away." To the bureaucrat, of course, there is no question. Peña will take the job they are prepared to offer him because he would be an idiot not to. And Javier Peña is many things, but very few people have ever considered him an idiot. "Station Chief is a little different than you're used to but the hours are better and the office is comfortable."

His brow arches in surprise and he waits another minute before he speaks again. He can see Spencer getting impatient, wanting his answer in the affirmative. "Under one condition." He says finally.

"Depends on what it is," the man chuckles, fully expecting a negotiation for an absurd salary jump or some kind of provisional luxury that would be out of the question. He could whittle it down to something doable and they would both consider it a win.

Javi says your name and waits for recognition to register on Spencer's face. "She comes with me to Colombia, and the disciplinary letter is removed from her file."

"Jesus." He sits back, rolling his eyes a little and huffing. "What does this woman have that seems to make all our agents lose their minds over her?" Spencer shakes his head, ready to say no when he sees the dead serious cut of Peña's jaw. "Why her?" He asks instead. "Why not get Murphy back?"

"Murphy’s going back to Miami." Javi reminds him, knowing that being home is the best thing for his and Connie's relationship. "He’ll be happy where he is and she's a good agent." He insists. "Better than Murphy, better than me."

"She's a liability." He reminds the agent on the other side of his desk. "Too emotional. Too sentimental."

"It won't be a problem." Javi assures him. "She's going, one way or another, so you might as well get an agent out of it."

That makes Spencer hesitate, and he looks up from the papers in front of him to level Peña with a stern expression. "You know there is a hard and fast fraternization rule if you're her superior, don't you?"

"Doesn't count if the relationship was established before the promotion." Javi answers, calling his bluff.

"You'll have to provide documentation." This is going sideways just a little and Spencer pulls tight on the reins to make sure he doesn't lose control. "If you can do that, it's all clear."

Javi huffs in amusement and nods. "Fine." He shrugs, the tickets to Texas and the pictures that you had taken on the ranch of the two of you should suffice. "She retains agent status, then?"

Spencer sighs, longer and more irritated than it should be, but it is what it is. "As long as she treads carefully. You're responsible for her now, Peña."

"She should have just gotten a slap on the wrist the last time and you know it." Javi stands and rolls his shoulders back. "We done here?"

"My secretary has your paperwork. Sign it and tell her where to mail your tickets to Colombia. You're back in that embassy in a week," He flashes a murky, insincere smile. "Enjoy the rest of your vacation, Chief."

Nodding, Javi doesn't offer the man his hand, just turns to walk out of the office to find you sitting in a chair on the other side of a very bored looking secretarial desk. "You're up." He murmurs, not wanting to tell you about what had just happened until after you are out of this building.

"Don't sound so excited about it." You try to laugh so that you don't seem nervous, but pass him into the office with a deep exhale. "Sir." It's reflex to close the door behind you, but you don't sit until Spencer waves his hand at the chair that Javi was just occupying.

"Sit." His original plan had been to give you your walking papers, kicking you out of the DEA, but that had been changed by Javier Peña. "This shouldn't take long."

"Yes, sir." You knew it. To keep from deflating, you sit up in that chair as ramrod straight as humanly possible and fold your hands in your lap. You're getting fired. You knew it.

Despite his assurances that it wouldn't take long, Spencer spends several moments shuffling papers and scribbling furiously. He will have to have your records put back and he pulls out the disciplinary letter out of your file to be shredded. "When did you start fucking Peña, agent?" He asks, not looking up as he continues to write. "Before or after you returned to the United States?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. You swallow harshly but make sure that your face doesn't change whatsoever. "After, sir."

Spencer finally looks up, watches you for a moment and then nods. "Peña said the same." He tells you. "Relationships between a station chief and an agent are frowned upon, but..." He shakes his head and sighs. "It can't be censured if it happened before a promotion as was just pointed out to me." He stares at you, jaw clenched before he shoots you a bland smile. "Pack your things, agent." He tells you. "You're going back to Colombia."

"Thank you, sir." That is a whole lot of news to take in all at once, and you have to hold yourself up by sheer force of will so that you don't just deflate with relief on the spot. "Immediately?"

"As soon as your tickets can be purchased." He nods before he points at you. "It's your last chance." He warns you. "Peña put his own ass on the line for you. So if you fuck up..." He shrugs. "He can't save you."

"I understand, sir." Life by the book is going to be an interesting way to live with Javier Peña beside you, but it's an adventure you're excited to take.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord

IFYM: @southernbe @therealmrspascal 

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #dea reader #Narcos #Narcos fanfic #the love is REALLY requited #they're still idiots though #there was only one bed #and now it's fake dating too #wedding date

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Fly Me to the Moon

A perfect first date with Roy Kent, despite not feeling well.

Roy Kent x Reader

1.5k words

Warnings: mentions of allergies, nothing but fluffy fluff

Of course your allergies were acting up. That made sense. It was only your first official date with Roy Kent, after you’d spent two weeks trying to sync up your schedules, so of course your allergies chose today to go into overdrive. There was no way you could put things off again; you were worried he’d think you weren’t interested, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

You’d been mad about him since you first met at Keeley’s party, where she gleefully introduced the two of you. At the end of the night, you’d exchanged phone numbers, with Roy cheekily asking if you’d be alright if he didn’t wait three days to call you. He called just as you were walking into your flat after the party, asking if you’d like to go out sometime. While the two of you tried to figure out when you were both available, you texted every day, and he even popped by your work a couple of times to say hello and bring you lunch, much to the excitement of your coworkers.

And now you laid on your bed, head aching and nose stuffed up, wondering how you were going to get through this afternoon. You didn’t want to take medication, that made you drowsy. So, you’d just have to suck it up.

You quickly got up and finished putting on your makeup, hoping to conceal some of the puffiness in your eyes. After that was hair and putting on the dress you’d had hanging up for several days now. As you chugged a giant glass of water, hoping it would somehow make your allergies disappear, your phone buzzed, letting you know that Roy was out front.

The lift was, as always, far too slow as it descended to the ground floor. As soon as the lift opened, you walked as quickly as you could out the front doors, eyes scanning the street for that giant black car you remembered from the party. It was a bit of a shock when you saw Roy standing on the sidewalk, his black ensemble contrasting with the bright bouquet of flowers he held.

“My niece told me to bring flowers. She said ladies love getting flowers on dates.” He handed them to you and planted a light kiss on your cheek, a tingly feeling lingering long after his lips left your skin. “If you don’t like them, you can blame her. She’s eight. What does she know about fucking dating?”

Keeley had warned you about this; Roy rambled when he was nervous. You instantly found it endearing.

“They’re lovely,” you assured him. “Your niece is very wise.”

Roy slipped his hand effortlessly into yours, giving it a squeeze as he led the way to his car. “She is.”

Your eyes flickered down to your hands, then up to his face. “Tell me about her.”

For most of the drive, Roy talked about his niece, Phoebe. Your heart melted at the way his face completely lit up when he spoke about all the time they spent together, clearly the best of friends. You had the feeling he didn’t always get to talk like this.

“You like space, right?” Roy’s question popped up out of nowhere.

“Space?” you repeated, not quite sure what he meant.

He nodded. “You, erm, mentioned in it one of your texts. That you wanted to be an astronomer or some shit when you were a kid?”

You were amazed that he remembered “Oh, yeah.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “Then I found out that you have to be good at maths for that, so I changed my mind. So now I’m more of a casual fan of space.”

Roy smirked. “Good, I got it right. I sort of picked the location for our date as soon as you told me about that.”

A pleased blush covered your face; you were pretty sure you’d talked about that maybe two days into texting one another. He’d been planning this for two weeks. He’d been thinking of you for two weeks.

The mystery location turned out to be the local observatory, a place you were a smidge embarrassed to admit you hadn’t been before.

“Well, I’m glad to introduce you to it,” Roy quipped as he took your hand again, leading you to the entrance. “Been here a few times with Pheebs, she loves it.” He passed the ticket booth and went straight to the entrance, where an employee scanned the tickets on his phone. “Bought these as soon as we set the date,” he informed you with a shrug. But you could see the excitement that shone in his eyes as you entered the building.

He kept your hand in his as he led you from exhibit to exhibit, pointing out his favorite things and listening intently to the comments you made and the facts that you shared, your old love of astronomy coming back to you as you prayed he ignored your sniffling. Some people gawked and waved at him; he gave curt nods of acknowledgement, but otherwise kept his attention on you, making you feel like the most important person in the world.

When he checked his phone, your heart stopped for the briefest moment, worried that maybe he wasn’t having as much fun as you were. Instead, he smiled at you, the way he’d been doing all afternoon.

“Did you want to see the planetarium show? They change it out every couple of months, I haven’t seen this one yet. It’s starting in a few minutes.”

You gave him a teasing nudge with your shoulder. “You sure Phoebe won’t mind if you saw it without her?”

Roy shrugged and pulled you towards the planetarium doors. “She’ll fucking get over it.”

If you were being very honest, you didn’t watch much of the show. You knew you saw stars and galaxies and planets, but the only thing you could really focus on was Roy and the way the lights danced across his bearded face. Your heart fluttered when he glanced at you in turn, quirking his eyebrow playfully each time your eyes met. About halfway through the show, he brought your still intertwined hands to his lips and pressed a featherlight kiss to your knuckles, making butterflies appear in your knotted stomach.

“Where to next?” you asked as the two of you left the planetarium, squeezing his hand.

Roy’s smile turned coy. “Phases of the moon,” he announced, gesturing towards the small room off to the side.

The two of you walked inside, and you were a bit relieved to find that it was empty, allowing you to be alone with Roy for the first time all day. Despite the fact that he mostly ignored the way people stared at him, you wanted a moment where he was just yours.

On the walls were images depicting each phase of the moon: new Moon, waxing crescent, first quarter, waxing gibbous, full Moon, waning gibbous, third quarter and waning crescent. Projected on the ceiling above the two of you was a moon changing phases, showing how it progressed during its cycle.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realized how dark the room was, and how close Roy stood to you. His eyes were on the ceiling, watching the changing phases. He perked up as it neared the end of the cycle.

“Full moon,” he murmured.

Before you could respond, Roy leaned down and softly pressed his lips to yours, letting his free hand gently cup your face. As your lips moved slowly in response to his, you remembered a late-night text you had sent him about a week ago:

A kiss under a full moon is probably the most romantic thing I could imagine.

Sure enough, he shot you a wide smile once you’d parted. “There. First kiss under a full moon.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Roy Kent, you hopeless romantic.”

“Promise you won’t fucking tell anyone,” he teased. As if to bribe you, he ducked his head and kissed you again, a slower, deeper kiss now.

You’d keep all of this man’s secrets if it meant feeling his lips against yours over and over again.

Fiercely blushing, the two of you stepped back out of the exhibit, with you wondering if everyone could sense that you had just kissed Roy Kent.

His hand gripped yours tightly as he led you back to the entrance. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Great. I know a place that makes the best kebabs.”

Seemingly as soon as you stepped outside, rain began falling over the two of you, wet and heavy. You tried to keep your footsteps brisk as you crossed the parking lot that seemed much bigger than it had earlier in the afternoon.

Great, you thought. I’m puffy and stuffed up and now I’m wet. Great. Real attractive.

But then you noticed that Roy was gazing down at you, his eyes filled with adoration and tenderness. His smile went all soft when your eyes locked.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he breathed.

And right there, in the middle of a soaking wet parking lot, with your nose stuffed up and your aching head begging you to take an aspirin, you tugged him close to you, determined to get another kiss.

#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fluff

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Omfg congrats on the 2222! I’m sure many more to come!

Alright , hear me out. This idea consumed my brain the entire weekend.

AU Stripper!Frankie

I know, kinda out of character for him, but I can’t help it.

I recently « stumble » upon Magic Men of Australia on tik tok and instantly my mind went to Frankie.

Reader could be at his show and he chose her to come up on stage … after that , you write what you want .

What do you think Cee ?

Sweet anon - I am saving the best for last! Ngl, I might have drooled several times while writing stripper!Frankie. I might also have blacked out when I first saw your ask, thank you for sending in this delicious request. I hope you enjoy this cheeky oneshot, because 1.4k does not count as a drabble 😂 This reminds me of my dearest LJ's @prolix-yuy SW!Frankie universe, do go read it if you haven't yet!

Frankie Morales x stripper AU

Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 1460 words (sorry) | warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, bachelorette party (mis)behaviour, mentions of food

Okay, this is definitely not your scene.

The said scene being a rowdy bachelorette party in an intimate, soundproofed room draped in plush dark velvet and deep-seated sofas, disco lights pulsing in time with the booming bass that shakes your bones. 

And oh, and there’s a half-naked stripper gyrating to the music. Obviously.

Not that he doesn’t look good doing it. He absolutely does, and not in that chiselled, perfectly sculpted way you imagined all strippers would look like. He’s hot in a realistic way, if that makes sense - his arms are strong, his chest is broad and firm, but there’s just a touch of softness to his tummy that makes him human. 

It’s been a long, long time since you’ve seen a naked man. Heck, who are you kidding, when was the last time you even saw a topless man?

But he might as well be completely starkers. The shorts he’s wearing are glorified panties, paper thin, and they do nothing to conceal the fact that he’s hung. You can see the whole business, front and back. For someone as well packed as he is between the legs, his behind is endearingly flat, but mercifully, it doesn’t seem to compromise his balance in any way.

The lean muscles in his arms flex and roll when he locks his hands behind his head, thighs bulging with corded muscle as he plants his feet, and then he thrusts - his bulge swinging heavily, defying gravity. 

He’s got to be half-hard, at least. There’s no way he’s that big standing at ease, so to speak. 

Of course, the girls are going wild. They’re screaming and hyperventilating, Cosmpolitans sloshing over manicured nails and staining their dresses as they throw dollar bills at him. He obliges, crawling onto the couch on all fours so that they can tuck the cash into the waistband of his shorts, copping a feel as they do.

Frankie doesn’t mind it. He plays along, grabbing the bride-to-be’s wrist after she smacks him on the ass, shoving her back into the couch before clambering over her. Getting onto his knees, he dances right in her face, grinning when she squeals and reaches around his waist to grab both his ass cheeks as he rolls his hips.

His eyes slide over to you, sitting a polite distance away as the other girls crowd around him, getting close and personal, not wanting to miss out on the action.

You, on the other hand, look like you’d rather be curled up in the far corner with a book and a warm drink. But he can tell that you’re trying your best, sipping away at your cocktail (with an endearing wince that you try to hide when you swallow), and bobbing to the music even though you’re clearly feeling out of place around your more outgoing friends.

Being the quiet one out of the guys, he gravitates towards your energy. 

Frankie always makes sure all of his customers have a good time in his session and that no one is left out, but he also wants you to be comfortable. Quietening his hips, he hops off the couch, taking two steps towards you, watching as your eyes widen, as if you want to bolt.

One corner of his lips inching upwards, he unfurls his fingers towards you, and the smile widens when you fit your smaller hand in the heart of his palm with a shy one of your own. Pulling you gently onto your feet, he surprises you with a firm tug next, spinning you around with your back to his chest. 

You smell sweet, like shampoo and soap. Not letting go of your hand, he puts his other one on your hip, and you instantly stiffen when your friends screech in excitement, obviously not used to being the centre of attention. 

Hooking his chin on your shoulder, he sways you to the music, his hips snug against yours. He feels you inhale sharply when his breath skims your skin, the shiver that goes through you unmistakable. He revels in your reaction, far more real and intimate than your friends’ drunken wandering hands. 

You slowly thaw in his arms, the tension easing out of your shoulders where the straps of your pretty dress sit, and he knows that you don’t mean to tease when the swell of your ass brushes his front, bolder as you move your hips to the beat.

When the song draws to a close far too soon, he turns you around, wrapping one arm around your waist to dip you backwards. You let go of his hand to grasp the back of his neck on reflex, and he takes the opportunity to glide one palm up the smooth expanse of your leg, before hitching it around his waist.

He sees more than hears the whimper that slips past your lips, and he may or may not be half-hard when he presses his hips between your thighs.

As your friends holler and wolf-whistle around you, he holds your gaze, not missing how your pupils blow wide in the flashing lights.

Then you duck your head, and he lets you go, the bride-to-be demanding his attention.

You happily fade into the background again, but he catches the way your knees buckle when you wobble on your heels back to the sofa.

You’re fucking adorable. 

The guys are tallying the tips for the bookkeeper in the break room when Pope comes in with a phone in his hand. ‘Fish, one of your customers left this behind. Do you know whose it is?’

Tapping on the lock screen - he sucks in a breath when you appear, posing with a big golden retriever. Your face is turned up into the sun, eyes closed in mid-laugh as the dog licks you on your cheek.

With a grunt, Frankie gets on his feet, a dull ache in the small of his back, which always happens when he thrusts a bit too vigorously. Tucking the phone safely in his pocket, he grabs his jacket and strides out, not seeing the guys looking curiously after him as he tosses over his shoulder, ‘Send me her address, Pope, I’ll drop it off.’

You jump when your laptop wakes up with a shrill ringtone. Clicking the green button, your best friend’s voice comes through the speakers. 

‘Hon, the strip club just called. You left your phone there.’

With a groan, your palm meets your forehead in a smack. ‘Oh shit, it always happens when I drink! Should I go pick it up, or -’

‘Don’t worry, I gave them your address.’

‘Wait, what? You gave them my address?’

‘Relax, they’re strippers, not serial killers.’

You shift your feet nervously. ‘Do you know who’s coming?’

‘The one who danced for us today, you lucky bitch.’

Your heart almost leaps out of your mouth as you panic. ‘What the - but I’ve taken off all my make up and I’m not wearing a bra, and I got fucking chili on the stove -’

Your doorbell rings, and you whisper, ‘Shit, he’s here!’

‘Say hi to the hottie for me, babe! Night!’

Padding on bare feet towards the door, you take a deep breath, and reach for the knob.

Warm brown eyes meet yours, but not before they dart over your wet hair and pyjamas. You cross your arms self-consciously, knowing that he must have caught a glimpse of your nipples under your thin sleep shirt.

He smiles, handing you the phone. ‘Glad I caught you before you went to bed.’

Jesus H. Christ. It really is a blessing that you didn’t know what he sounded like when he had his clothes off - 

You barely manage to squeak, your cheeks heating up. ‘Thanks so much for bringing it by, it was so clumsy of me.’

He shrugs easily, his gray tshirt bunching with the movement. ‘Happens. You’ll be surprised what people leave behind.’

‘What?’ you prompt, curiosity piqued.

‘I don’t strip and tell,’ he winks. ‘I’m Frankie, by the way.’

A handshake seems redundant after your close encounter earlier, so you give him your name and a smile. You admit, ‘I almost didn’t recognize you.’

He taps the beak of his cap. ‘It’s the hat.’

‘I like you better with clothes on,’ you blurt out impulsively, the alcohol still running thick through your veins.

He chuckles. ‘You might be the only one.’

He glances over your shoulder, breathing in the smell of simmering beef mince and tomatoes. ‘Are you cooking chili?’

You bite your lip. ‘Guilty. Case of midnight munchies.’

‘It smells delicious,’ he compliments you, lingering by the doorway and making no move to leave.

Emboldened, you ask, ‘Do you want some? I made way too much, as usaul.’

He grins, and it goes straight to your head. ‘I’d love to.’

#fuckyeah2222sleepover #frankie morales oneshot #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales

[fishsticksloser]

Raph SFW HC

Warnings: opinions, fluff

A/N: there will be versions for all the turtles. Requests are officially closed. Any requests sent now will be deleted.

Leo | Mikey | Donnie

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He's very affectionate. He can sometimes be overly affectionate...

Raph's love languages are Acts of Service and Touch.

So expect a lot of hand holding, kisses, cuddles, etc. You have a chore that you've been putting off? He'll do it for you

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his hands and arms. They're big, he's worked hard to keep himself in shape. And he can use them to hold you.

Cheesy... But you're smile. Raph gets so happy when you smile, especially when it shows in your eyes.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Massive cuddler. Loves cuddling.

Due to his plastron, shell, and spikes it's a little difficult/painful. So he came up with a few solutions:

1) if you're laying on him, pillows are placed where your body meets his plastron. 2) when spooning, things are placed on his spikes to keep from stabbing you. 3) you're never allowed to be big spoon, period.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Mans wants to settle down so bad. He wants to have a family and enjoy the company of his s/o.

He's not a great cook, he can make a great PB&j (don't worry, it's not actual PB).

Cleaning? He's not terrific, but he does his best. His room isn't that dirty, more like he just forgets.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Raph is big on communication. So when he breaks up with you, he'll explain why.

It breaks his heart to do so, but sometimes people just aren't meant to be. He'll explain why from both sides. Why he isn't a good match for you and vise versa.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Commitment king.

Before asking, he'll sit down and have a talk about the future with you. Is marriage in what you picture of the future? How far away do you think it is? Etc.

He'll wait at least a year before even popping the question.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Extremely gentle physically. The last thing he wants to do it hurt you in anyway.

One time he accidentally grazed you with one of his spikes (no skin was broken) and he started crying and apologizing. He was touch adverse for a while after that.

Emotionally he's also super gentle. Somewhat raising his brothers can do that.

He tries to sugar-coat everything. After a while he starts to decrease the amount of sugar added, but still is hesitant to tell you bad news.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs. Raph is a big hugger.

He doesn't hug often because of his spikes, but also never turns then down.

His hugs are strong and comforting.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes a while. It's not something Raph believes should be said willy-nilly. It's something that should be said with meaning.

When he finally decides he should say it, he kind of makes a big deal out of it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He doesn't get jealous very easily. He loves and trusts you completely.

If Raph does get jealous, he keeps it to himself. He won't act unless you show some sign that you're uncomfortable.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are sweet and short. Occasionally passionate.

He loves kissing your forehead/top of your head. Due to his height he prefers this, but loves kissing your lips.

He likes when you kiss his plastron, once again due to his height, he finds if very endearing that you want to kiss him that bad. Though he thinks it's cute when you try to reach his face.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

So good around children. Kids think he's a dinosaur and Raph will use it to his advantage.

He wants to have kids of his own eventually.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's an early riser. Normally up by 6-7am.

Though with you, he enjoys staying in bed longer, cuddling and talking.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

When Raph is tired, he falls asleep very easily. He doesn't go to bed until he's tired.

He has a whole nighttime routine to finish too.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He'll slowly reveal things.

Dating a giant turtle man is hard enough. The things you absolutely need to know, he'll tell you immediately, but other not as important things he'll slowly talk about.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He's very easily angered, he's been talking to Dr. Feelings about this issue for some time.

Raph has learned how to put his anger into other things as to not hurt anyone.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He's decent at remembering things about you.

He might forget smaller things, but he knows you're favorite things. He uses that to get you presents.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

First kiss or first 'I love you'

Those moments are things he thinks about daily. Raph is absolutely smitten.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Raph is a tad overprotective.

He has learned to tone it down a little due to his brothers. But he has separation anxiety, so he just wants to check in.

He'll text/call to see if you made/left you're destination. If you don't answer, he'll panic and come get you.

He doesn't need protecting, but just knowing you're there makes him feel safe.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Raph goes all out. Or tries to.

He prepares months in advance for special events and dates.

He just wants you to feel so loved.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He's overprotective. Shields you from everything dangerous in his life.

He tries to solve problems constantly.

Sugarcoats everything.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Hardly at all.

Raph wants to look nice, but with his own looks he doesn't really care.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You're his second half, his everything.

Of course he feels incomplete without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Gets nervous when you ask to shower with him. Where does he put his hands? Is allowed to look? What about his spikes?

Raph hums a lot, almost all the time. If you start singing the song, he'll sing it with you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

If you're mean to his brothers, it's over. Joking around is fine, but just disrespecting them? You're out. His family is everything to him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Raph doesn't move in his sleep at all. He snores, but doesn't talk. It's kind of freaky.

He also has a water bottle next to his bed incase he wakes up thirsty.

#rise raph #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #raphael x reader #raph tmnt #raph x reader #tmnt raphael #raph hamato #raphael teenage mutant ninja turtles #raphael hamato #raphael #rise raphael #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt #unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rottmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2018

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

“Love is Better When You Share.”

Y/N, after being sent on a business trip to Helsinki, Finland, has a fated meeting with two men in a hotel bar that would change her life forever.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader X Ville Valo

(Fluff)

3.2k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, crude language, smoking, alcohol, descriptions of injuries, flirting, jealousy

An: Wow! I actually started writing this one day before Bam and Ville had their little reunion earlier this week, so about good timing! XD I really tried to create a dichotomy between Bam and Ville in this fic because I think they’re so different but, at the same time, so similar! Aaa I’m in love with both of them heheh anyways I’m getting back to my requests so thank you all for all of them and please keep sending them! :)

If you were stuck in Nowhere, Helsinki for the next week, the least you could do was get drunk. It was funny how business trips always led you to the hotel bar, you thought, nursing the drink in your hand. It was a crowded, dingy place, but you worked with what you could get. Through the dimness of the bar, you could still make out the silhouette of the tall stranger brushing against your arm as he took a seat next to you. A smile played on his delicate, pale features as he looked down at you, thin fingers just barely resting on the darkness of the bar top. He didn’t even have to say anything and you were charmed, but maybe that was the tequila talking.

And before this handsome stranger could open his mouth to say anything, the bartender slid you another drink, wordlessly pointing a thick finger at someone down the bar, presumably the man who bought you said drink. Both of you glanced in the direction he pointed. Of course, you weren’t going to turn it down, but the timing was funny. You heard a snicker before he finally spoke up in a thick accent, “You know, I was about to ask if I could buy you a drink myself.” He took a sip of his beer, grasping the bottle with dark painted nails, “Guess that won’t be a problem anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow, “You speak English?” His words were deep and sweet but very articulate, a contrast to the tight lipped hotel concierges and shop owners you had met thus far. He flashed a sliver of teeth, “You’re an American?” The wit and the speed at which he replied to you was amusing, and you pressed, “How’d you know?” Glancing down the bar, then back to you, he replied nonchalantly, “It’s your accent. Well, that and your assumption that I didn't speak the language.” He seemed more endeared than offended at the cultural misunderstanding, pointing a thin digit down the bar and adding, “You know, I actually have a friend from America with me tonight.”

Oh, it was the guy who bought you that drink. You chuckled, squinting to see if you could make out his face and decide who was the hotter of the two, “What? You two havin’ some contest t’see who could get my number first?” The knowing look on his face told you everything you needed to know. It was immature, sure, but at the same time it was kinda cute. Nonetheless, he justified it, “Well, it was his idea in the first place. He refused to believe that I could get the phone number of the hottest girl at the bar tonight- care to prove him wrong?”

“I think I’d like to. Who are you, by the way?” You didn't show it but god, he was killing you. The words fell off of his tongue low and gentle, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear his musings, “Oh, I’m nobody, darling.” He added hastily after, “My name is Ville. And yours…?” Ville. The name sounded nice in your head, like some kind of European prince. You replied simply, “Y/N.” Ville seemed to smile hearing your name fall from your lips, “What a beautiful name.” He was Prince goddamn Charming. All he needed to do was hand you a glass slipper.

Before you could even start to respond your attention was drawn to a man walking up next to Ville, looking at you. “How’s the drink?” He raised an eyebrow at you from behind a pair of $300 sunglasses- the guy from the end of the bar. “Oh, it’s great! Thanks!” He grinned, one of his sharp canines glinting in the light, “I’m Bam, by the way.” Weird name, you thought, but you brushed it off. Leaning a little closer, his cockiness shone through in the tone of his voice, “Listen baby, I got a lambo out front here. Y’wanna come take it for a spin with me?” From the corner of your eye you caught Ville giving him the side eye of the century. Weighing your options, you made an excuse to save face, “Maybe not tonight- I got work in the morning.” Only then did Bam take a seat next to you, sitting with his back to the bar and his shoulders pulled back. “When’d you get off, then?”

“Around five tomorrow.” Reaching into your pocket, you grabbed two business cards with your number on them and passed them out to the men.

Well, he wasn’t lying about the Lamborghini. The roar from the engine made your stomach get that weird feeling, making every square inch of your body vibrate. Bam really put the speedometer to use, and you were equally as nervous as you were thrilled. It felt a like a roller coaster, zig-zagging up treacherous curved mountain turns as he rested one muscular hand on the steering wheel, the light from the street lamps that dotted the highway glinting off of his silver rings. Your gaze trailing up his forearm, you found your eyes fixated on a multicolored bruise framing a mangled pink mess of a scar, covering most of his elbow in shiny, raised tissue. The car ride itself was wordless, but anything spoken wouldn't have been heard anyway over the heavy metal music blasting through the speakers. Fast music, fast cars, and fast company. God, you felt alive.

“So, what’s this?” Bam glanced over at you as you asked the question, putting the car into park and swinging his legs out of the open door. “The best date of your life.” You couldn’t help but snicker a little at his bravado right out of the gate. Getting out, you noticed that you had left the busy city center a while ago and were instead nestled in the dense thicket of trees that made up the Finnish countryside. A cold, dry breeze blew the scent of spruce trees past you as you followed on his heels.

You two walked into the restaurant and you were seated in the blink of an eye. Bam just shot the Maitre D a look and you had the best table in the house or, at least, you could only assume they were the best from the view you had. Overlooking a cliff, all you could see for miles from your terrace level seats was water the same crystal blue color as his eyes. It was like magic. “Oh my god. How did you get all this?” There must’ve been stars in your eyes as you took in everything around you, but Bam just chuckled, “Well, back in America, I guess you could say I’m pretty damn famous.” Clearly not famous enough, you thought, because you didn’t know him. It took you a few seconds to realize he probably assumed you weren’t American but you still had no clue who he was, so you didn’t stop him.

Taking a sip of the sparkling wine the waiter left, you tilted your head to the side, “So, what do you do?” It almost felt cruel to see the blow that took to his ego but, at the same time, it was fun to watch him scramble, “Well, I’m a skateboarder. A professional one.” You raised an eyebrow, your smile teetering on sinister, “You know, my little cousin does that too. And that pays well?” He seemed to catch onto your game. Glancing to the side, then back at you, he leaned a little bit closer, “I mean, did you see what I drove you here in, Baby? Of course it does!” Bam sat back in his chair, looking up at the waiter as he placed the plates of lobster in front of you two before continuing, “I’ve been in movies, Tv, video games- they make shoes with my name on them for crying out loud.”

As he rambled, your eyes started to drift back to that elbow as it rested on the nice, white tablecloth. Catching you, Bam grinned, holding it up for you to get a better look, “Broke it a week ago. Sixteenth time, actually.” You winced. Maybe he was less of an ego case than you thought. As a breeze blew, swirling his dark curls around, a look of great satisfaction crossed his face when he saw the surprise on yours. “Mmhm. Doctors say if I do it again, the whole ‘things just gonna turn to dust. You can touch it if you wanna.” The rich boy routine didn’t work on you, but this surely did. The injuries made him look grizzled, real rough around the edges. Your curiosity begged you to, so you tentatively reached out a hand and gingerly ran just the tips of your fingers over the raised surface of his skin. Suddenly, Bam drew back his arm, hissing air through his teeth and clutching it dramatically. You hastily began to apologize, “O-oh, I’m so-“ He was laughing.

Bam went on to excitedly show you the raised, earthwormy scars that ran down his arms he acquired from skateboard spills and patches of hair he was missing that made his scalp look like a dog with a bad case of mange. There was a beauty in the fact that he was falling apart, a kind that your fellow diners seemed somewhat disturbed by from the glares they shot at you throught your meal, but you didn’t find yourself caring in the slightest. All you could focus on was your own little world- just you and Bam.

And the end of the night was almost like one of those cute little romance movies, where the guy drops the girl off at her front door under the moonlight and they stare at each other timidly for a while, not sure exactly what to do. “So, uh,” Bam rocked a little on the heels of his chunky skater shoes, his hands in his pockets, “Maybe we can do this again sometime?” As overconfident as he was, it seemed that once things got past the talk, he was a little shy. You smiled, “Sure!” A look of relief crossed his pale face under the golden light of the street lamp, “How’s next week sound?”

“I’m a little busy then. Week after that, maybe?” You didn’t want to tell Bam why, but he already knew.

After you and Ville had dinner together, he said he’d take you to a nightclub. “One of my friends owns this place.” He explained in the taxi ride there, golden light falling on his face, just as quickly fleeing from his features as the car sped through back alley streets towards your destination. “I think you’ll have a spectacular time here tonight, Y/N.” As you pulled up to what could have been an abandoned warehouse, you didn’t really know what to expect, pensively stepping out the door and gazing at the dirty, run down building before you, “You sure this is the place?” He nodded, “Positive, love.”

As walked up to the bouncer, Ville slipped him a 20 euro note and you took the opportunity to give him a good once over in the moonlight. God, he was beautiful, like those paintings of dying Victorian women. His white, just barely toned chest sat beneath a silky black fur coat that hung from his shoulders. You felt a little weird looking at him like that, but it’s not like you could help it. The tight little pair of black leather pants he was wearing weren’t helping your staring problem very much either, especially with how it exposed the tattoo on his lower stomach that he caught you ogling at. Your nervousness seemed to be amusing to him from the way he smiled with only his dark, smoky eyes, the corner of his magenta lips quirking up slightly. He reached out a hand to you and led you in.

It was like you walked through a portal into a whole other word. German techno blasted from giant speakers stacked haphazardly around the club, loud enough to make your ears tickle as you followed closely behind Ville, squeezing through the crowd. Women in latex miniskirts and black corsets would touch him on the shoulder and say lecherous things to him as they passed and seemingly everyone there knew him, offering him high fives and a few ass grabs. It was like he was some celebrity or something. From tall pylons, fire eaters spun flaming rods wrapped in vodka soaked rags and women danced in cages suspended from the ceiling. For you, this was a circus, but for Ville, this was just Saturday night. Sitting down at the bar, he lit himself a cigarette and took a drag, glancing at you, then the red leather stool next to him. You sat.

“First time at this kind of place?” Ville turned toward you with that coy, knowing smile. “Yeah…” From the corner of your eyes, you caught Ville propping his heels up on something dark just out of your line of sight, making you do a double take. Your jaw went slack, “Is- is that a gimp?” He recrossed his ankles, nodding, “Well, my feet were getting tired.” The way he just didn’t seem to give a shit about anything was so entrancing to you. Smiling, he tilted two of his pale fingers towards you, passing you his smoldering, magenta stained cigarette. You took it without a second thought, not even mentioning that you didn’t smoke. Ville smirked at your inexperience as you coughed after you took that first drawl. Sliding off of the stool in one motion, he kicked his feet off of his footrest, “I’m going to hit the men’s.” Nodding, your gaze lingered on his leather clad behind as he walked away from you, pressing the cigarette back to your lips.

Huh, maybe Ville had the right idea with this place. It made you wonder what kind of life he lived to get him into these places. Pondering whether he was a musician or some sort of male stripper, your thoughts were interrupted by an unfamiliar voice behind you, “Hey, baby. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” Turning arround, you went to confront the creep hitting on you but were a little taken aback by the fact he was less than a foot away from you, staring you right in the eye and making your words escape you for a moment.

Your speechlessness wasn’t in any way aided, however, when Ville made his very timely return, sliding right between you and the guy. His chest pressed against your body in a way that made you rethink what you were okay with doing on the first date. He slid his knee in between your legs, pinning you to the bar like a butterfly on an insect spreading board. His long, dark hair just barely brushed against your cheekbones as he leaned down to speak to you, so close that you could’ve sworn he got some of his lipstick on you, the warmth from his bare torso radiating onto your body, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah.”

Lingering in front of the hotel, you both were slick with sweat from the steamy night you had, basking in the afterglow. Drinking a little too much, dancing a little too close, and sharing just a few too many things. You couldn’t forget it if you got amnesia. Ville waited in front of you patiently, looking up at you with those deep eyes that just made you melt. “I had a really great time tonight, Y/N.” You nodded back, your heart picking up a little, “Yeah, me too.” He seemed to wait for you to do or say something, but you couldn’t really tell what he was expecting. Reaching a hand out, you brushed a cold palm against his smooth chest, feeling him take a quick breath at your touch. Still not pulling away, you leaned forward just an inch- all that you needed for your lips to meet his cheekbone, his skin soft and warm. From your peripheral, you could see him glance up at you with his nearly black pupils as you slowly pulled away, walking back inside and leaving him on the sidewalk.

You knew what you were doing when you invited the two of them to the bar that night, and you could tell your plan was working. “It’s not fair, dude! You get all the hot chicks!” Bam sneered, beer in hand. You watched as Ville leaned on one elbow, turning to him, “Well, I’m not stopping you from getting any of the ugly ones.” It really was fun to watch them bicker from your spot at the bar like you weren’t even there even though you were sitting directly between the two of them.

It was only about fifteen minutes into their couple’s quarrel that either one of them acknowledged you. “Come on, Y/N.” Bam nudged you, “It’s not like y’called us here to watch us bitch with each other.” A playful smile danced on your lips as you batted your eyelashes, playing coy and running a finger along the rim of your glass, “Well, I was thinking about you two, and I realized something.” You glanced over at Ville, then back at Bam, feigning melancholy, “I just don’t think I can choose between you two.”

Besides how much fun it was to play with their emotions like this, especially when Bam gave you that wide eyed, slack jawed look as you broke his poor little heart, you weren’t entirely lying. Both men, over the course of two dates, made your day to day life of work and dull travel feel magical. Bam, and the excitement and thrill that followed him wherever he went, fulfilled the adrenaline fix you didn’t even know you needed. Ville, on the other hand, with his mystery and sensuality, opened your eyes to this world you couldn't even imagine before meeting him. Though in different ways, you were equally addicted to spending time with each of them. Your little show you were putting on was just you buying time until one of them worked something out.

“You know, I have an idea.” Ville spoke up, breaking the silence, “I think there’s an arrangement where everyone gets what they want here.” You breathed a sigh of relief, your prayers being answered. Still, you were a little skeptical. Bam sighed, shooting him a ‘you’re kidding me’ look. Ville explained, leaning towards you while making half lidded eye contact, “For example, when you want to spend time with me, then you can spend time with me, and if you want to spend time with Bam- well, I wouldn’t judge you- but you could spend time with him.” He took a sip of his drink, getting a little glint in his eye, “And, of course, if you want to spend time with both of us…well, I wouldn’t be one to stop you.” It took you a few seconds to realize what he was implying by ‘spend time with’, your cheeks turning a little rosy as he chuckled, “I mean, love is better when you share, right?”

#jackass #h.i.m #bam margera #ville valo #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #jackass x reader #ville valo x reader #bam margera x reader

[saltmannequin]

New Girl

eddie munson x fem!reader

wc: 3.5k

warnings: marijuana use, mentions or injury (nothing gory)

summary: You're new in town and your mother and new friends are set on setting you and Eddie up. You braid his hair Robin gets high it's all very fun.

a/n: i loved writing this so much, if you guys like it I'll do a part 2! i love writing high robin so much!!! I listened to the grease soundtrack while writing this and I have heard John Travolta sing far too many times for tonight.

part 2

-----

The minute Eddie saw you he knew he was a goner. It was Saturday morning and he found you outside, hauling bags and boxes into the home of his neighbor. Your hair was brightly coloured, piercings adorning your face and ears. Due to the summer heat, you were wearing a tied and faded UB40 tee paired with some distressed denim shorts. Your ring-clad hand was resting on the open trunk of the car, exposing the skin of your left hip that was decorated with a small tattoo. He knew that the older woman who lived next door had a daughter, but he never took her seriously when she insisted her daughter was gorgeous, figuring that she was just being biased. 

You peered over your shoulder then and Eddie’s eyes locked with yours for a moment, morning cigarette hanging from his mouth, unlit. His hair was messy and fell across his shoulders, ‘Black Sabbath’ splayed across his t-shirt and checkered boxers peeking out from underneath. Your eyes widened only slightly after finding him unmoving, brown chocolate eyes staring at you. He watched you take him in, feeling his heart drop to his stomach after you found him checking you out.

“Y’ever been told it’s impolite to stare?” You challenged, smiling at the boy, slowly walking towards where he stood on his porch. He was dumbfounded at the fact that your whole look was bordering menacing, your smile was the most innocent and bright thing he had ever seen.

“Uh..s-sorry s’just never seen you in the park before a-and y’know everyone knows everyone ‘round here. You moving in?” He switched his weight on both legs, chuckling nervously and looking anywhere but you. 

“Nah, just putting some super heavy boxes in this random woman’s trailer for no reason.” You smiled wider at his nervous figure. You found him endearing. “I’m Y/N. Loretta’s daughter? You must know her since ‘everyone knows everyone ‘round here’.” 

The boy smiled at your playful mockery, growing more confident as he found you weren’t going to berate him for obviously checking you out. He also knew your mother very well, her feeling like family to him, meaning that you were nothing to be worried about if you were anything like her. “Yeah I know Loretta. She’s real close with my uncle.” You raised a brow at his comment, to which he instantly widened his eyes and began shaking his hands around. “No! I didn’t mean- I’m not saying that- They’re just good friends s’all.”

You nodded. Your mother had talked before about her neighbor Wayne and his nephew Eddie, describing them both as ‘real gentlemen’ and making an effort to chat Eddie up to you. Your mother knew exactly what kind of boys you were into, and you would be lying if you didn’t admit that after seeing the scruffy brunette standing in front of you. “Good to know she’s behaving. Listen I gotta keep unpacking ‘cause I’m on a pretty tight schedule here. See ya around, Eddie.” You winked before walking away, grabbing an orange duffel bag out of your trunk and disappearing inside. 

“I didn’t tell you what my name was.” He said to no one before shaking his head and finally lighting his cigarette.

-

The weekend had been and gone and you had settled into your new environment pretty easily, finding entertainment in getting to decorate a new room, something you were accustomed to and found joy in. 

Monday came around, meaning that it was your first day at Hawkins High. It wasn’t the first time you had been new in town, often moving place to place with your dad while your mom lived in Indiana, so you weren’t extremely worried about being in a new school environment. The quaint town seemed nice enough, so you figured the school would be the same. 

Your first day was pretty uneventful. You expected a lot worse from most of the students based on previous experiences, only receiving a few weird looks and insults hurled your way from the letterman jacketed sheeps that loomed in the halls. During second period you met a short-haired, exuberant girl called Robin who complimented your shoes. You both hit it off instantly and she invited you to sit with her at lunch, which you gratefully accepted, the thought of you having to eat alone in your car being removed from your brain entirely.

“So, let me get this straight. You moved here because your dad kicked you out for some mysterious reason we are not allowed to discuss, so you stayed at multiple friend’s houses for three months and even slept in your car for a week before calling your mom to come stay here in Hawkins?” Robin asked, a puzzled look on her face.

“Correct!” You did a little dance in your seat to emphasize your gratitude for her listening to you talk about why you moved. 

“But..why didn’t you just call your mom in the first place?” 

“Me and my mom get along better when we don’t live together. We get along just fine but when we fight, it’s ugly. I wasn’t gonna call her ‘til some asshole slashed one of my tires ‘cause I didn’t give him twenty cents for a soda at the gas station. Didn’t even know the guy! I told him if I had the twenty cents I woulda given it to him but he told me I was a liar and that I was out to get him. Started crying and everything. Anyway, the rest of my savings I had to spend on a new tire, so I had no options but to call my mom.” 

Robin looked at you with shocked eyes before bursting out laughing. “I-I’m sorry it’s just-” She wheezed at this point, slapping the table multiple times which earned some annoyed glares from people sitting nearby, before calming down and being able to converse normally. “You said that.. like it was nothing! THAT is a story, oh my god!” You giggled at her in return. 

“It was pretty crazy I’ll admit.” 

“You have to meet my friends! They'll absolutely love you and it would be so nice to listen to someone talk about something interesting instead of Steve trying to convince us that Phoebe Cates is the sexiest girl alive.” You snorted lightly at her comment, despite not knowing in the slightest who Steve was. “Seriously. I’ve heard that argument three times this week.”

“It’s Monday.”

“Exactly.”

-

After lunch, Robin gave you an address that she said was Steve’s and to be there for 7pm sharp. You couldn’t help but feel nervous about the whole situation. Walking into a stranger’s home and meeting even more strangers was not your ideal plan for the evening, however you were comforted by the notion that Robin would be there, too.

The rest of the school day zoomed by quickly, and you were disappointed to have not seen your long-haired neighbor roaming the halls, knowing that he went to Hawkins High too after your mother had told you over the phone many months ago. Something about him was intriguing and you wished that you would see and talk to him again.

You decided upon changing your clothes a little before leaving to go to Steve’s house. Despite the summer heat throughout the day, there was still a cool breeze when it got to around this time of night, so you added a thin cardigan to your tank top and shorts combo before teasing your hair a little. Pleased with how you looked, you walked out of your bedroom to see your mother sitting with a man probably only a couple of years older than her. He was slightly balding and had on a pair of coveralls, a lit cigarette in his right hand and was nodding along to your mother’s incessant ranting. She caught sight of you quickly and wasn’t shy about it. 

“Oh! Y/N! Come say hi to Wayne! Wayne, this is my daughter, isn't she a beaut! You look great honey, where are you going off to? I love that top on you, you look like a model!” Your mother had a habit of talking fast, loud and all at once. 

“Hi, Mr. Munson, it's nice to finally meet you! My mom doesn’t ever stop talking about you and Eddie.” You shook his hand and chuckled with him as he nodded at you.

“Oh please, call me Wayne. ‘S a pleasure sweetheart. Funny you say that ‘cause your mom don’t ever stop talking about you.” He chuckled as you sighed slightly at your mother. “You’ve met Eddie?”

“Yeah! Met him the other morning just when I was unpacking my stuff. I haven’t seen him since, though. Seems real sweet.” You responded before turning to look at the clock that read ‘6:54’. “Shoot! I’m gonna be late! Real nice to meet you, Wayne!” Your eyes shot to your mother, who was looking at you, expectantly, wanting you to reveal where you were off to before disappearing into the night. “ ‘M going to a friend's house. Be back later!” You slipped your shoes on frantically before racing out the front door. 

The drive to Steve’s house was not as long as you had anticipated, meaning you got there only a couple minutes late. You gulped as you stepped out of your car, being met with a fairly large, gray paneled house. Steve’s family was wealthy, that was apparent. You walked along the gravel path to his front door, knocking a little tune on the red wood. Muffled laughter could be heard from the inside of the house and faint music was playing. A couple of seconds passed before you were met face-to-face with Robin.

“Y/N! You made it!” She pulled you in for a tight hug before pulling away and staring into your soul with her glassy eyes. Neither of you said anything for a moment, and you raised an eyebrow when she burst out laughing, doubled over. 

“Robin, are you high?” You asked, an amused tone in your voice. You had smoked weed many times before, and therefore it wasn’t difficult for you to distinguish between when someone was high or sober. Robin was baked.

“No, mom, I’m relaxed.” She rolled her eyes before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the unfamiliar home.

She led you to what you assumed was Steve’s living room. If there weren’t two people sitting in there, you would have been under the impression that no one had ever lived there. There were no family photos, trinkets or decorations anywhere in sight. Just furniture and floral print wallpaper in pastel tones. The grease soundtrack echoed through the air and the whole room was blanketed in a thick fog that smelled particularly funky. The sliding glass door leading out to the pool was slightly ajar. 

“It was Nancy’s turn to pick the music.” Robin spoke into your ear with a disgusted tone, failing her attempt at a whisper, earning a laugh from you.

“Hey I can hear you!” The girl sitting on the far end of the couch turned her head to Robin, and then to you. She smiled as she saw you. “Hi! I’m Nancy, You must be Y/N, right? Robin hasn’t shut up about you since she got here, we’ve all been dying to meet you.” You smiled at her warmly as the boy sitting in the armchair placed next to the opposite end of the couch turned to you. Steve, you assumed. 

“Welcome! I’m Steve. Nance is right, seriously Robin kept going on and on about that gas station story you told her at lunch.” Robin began laughing hysterically as he brought the subject up again.

“Y-you didn’t give him twenty cents!” She gasped, “And he cried!” She was also crying at this point. You smiled sheepishly at her, never seeing a person this high before. You were almost skeptical, but the tears coming out of her eyes really sold to you that yes, someone can get this high.

“You smoke?” Steve interjected and drew your attention away from the now giggling Robin, who was trying to annoy Nancy by standing on her feet. He was slightly nervous you would guffaw at the question, storm out and call the cops despite Robin’s insistence that you did indeed smoke, after seeing a Looney Tunes themed lighter in your bag earlier that day when you were showing her your class schedule.

“Sure do.” You responded, now taking a seat on the far end of the couch next to Steve while Robin had now moved to lay on the floor, legs and arms spread like a starfish, mumbling along to ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You’. He nodded and extended the now rolled joint out to you. 

“You can have the first pull since you’re new in town. A little welcome to the group gift.” You smiled warmly and accepted the joint that he handed you. You lit the end, inhaling deeply and exhaling. 

About 20 minutes had passed and you, Nancy, Robin and Steve had fallen into an easy conversation before being interrupted by heavy banging on the door. 

“Idiot finally decides to show up.” You heard Steve mumble under his breath before jogging to the door. Nancy looked at you seriously now, joint between her index and middle finger.

“So, Y/N. Seen anyone cute yet?” She asked, smiling slightly as she brought the joint to her lips, inhaling. You thought for a moment, no one really coming to mind until you remembered the exchange you had with a certain neighbor days before. 

“Well..there’s this one guy..” Nancy and Robin both ‘oooohed’ at this information, but before you could say any more you were interrupted by Steve’s booming voice behind you.

“Ladies! The man of the hour has finally arrived without the beer he promised he would bring!” Robin and Nancy both booed and you giggled as Nancy passed the joint to you. 

“Wasn’t my fault you guys, seriously. You can’t expect a guy to buy a bunch of beers and then not drink 'em the night he buys 'em.” Your body froze as you heard his voice, knowing immediately who was standing behind you with Steve. You turned your head and was met with the boy you were almost about to gossip about. His hair was still as big and fluffy as ever, but more tame than the last time you saw it. He was wearing an Iron Maiden tee tucked haphazardly into his black ripped jeans and a red and black flannel draped over his broad shoulders. You smiled slightly as he recognised you, before puffing on the joint that Nancy had handed to you.

You were definitely high at this point, brain getting a little foggy and definitely staring a little longer at the metalhead than you should have, and it made him blush to see you check him out like he did on Saturday morning. 

“I told you making Eddie get the booze was a stupid idea.” Nancy looked at Steve and rolled her eyes as Eddie made his way over to the couch, falling into the seat next to you with an exaggerated sigh. You passed him the joint and he gratefully snatched it out of your hand and took a deep inhale. 

“Never knew you were chummy with my neighbor, Buckley.” Smoke flowed out of Eddie’s mouth as he spoke to your new found friend.

Robin snorted and looked up at him. “Never knew you were neighborly with my chum!” She burst into a fit of giggles before laying her face back into the carpet below her, everyone groaning at the terrible play on words.

“We really need to start keeping track of how much she smokes ‘cause that made me question how many brain cells Rob’s actually destroyed.” Steve huffed out, quirking a brow at the girl sprawled out on his floor. Everyone giggled at this, to which Robin responded with a kind middle finger.

A few hours passed, Robin now dancing with Nancy to ‘You’re The One That I Want’ that had most definitely played at least three times that same night. Steve was humming along to the tune, rolling yet another joint for the group, while you and Eddie were still sitting next to one another, in the most intense conversation you had ever found yourself in.

“That’s so not true!”

“It is!”

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes at your persistence, slightly offended that you would even suggest such a thing. “Sylvester is not better than Garfield, how dare you even say that!”

You sighed frustratedly. “But he is! Garfield is an iconic cat, I’ll admit! But Sylvester just has that loveable quality about him.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“That may be true, but I’m also right.” 

You both sat in silence for a moment, you peering over at the boy and wanting nothing more than to touch his hair. It was the first thing you always noticed about him, how soft it looked and how much you wanted to run your hands through it. The words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Can I braid your hair?” You instantly cringed at your question. ‘How creepy.’ You thought. Eddie turned to you instantly, staring at you in shock for a moment, not fully convinced that you had just said anything at all let alone asking to braid his hair. You smiled at him sheepishly, becoming slightly embarrassed.

“Sure.” You were taken aback by his response, expecting him to call you weird and move away from you, but instead he just stood up from the couch and sat on the floor directly in front of you. “Make me look gorgeous!” He exclaimed and you giggled.

Gathering his hair in your hands, you started to comb through it slightly with your fingers before dividing it into three sections. You hummed quietly as you worked and felt a sense of peace wash over you until Steve, once again, interrupted your thoughts.

“What the fuck?” He looked at Eddie, horrified.

“What’s up Steve?” You answered.

“You’re braiding his hair? Are you fucking kidding me! Yesterday he had a leaf in his hair, I went to pull it out for him and he punched me in the stomach! He doesn’t let anyone touch his hair!” It was true, Eddie had always been protective of his hair, scared people would mess it up if their hands went anywhere near it, but with you, Eddie felt weirdly okay with it. He felt comfortable with you despite your limited exchanges.

Nancy and Robin had turned to face you three now too. Nancy gave you a look as if to say ‘I know exactly who you find cute.’ and Robin smiled at you before turning to go into the kitchen, nothing in her eyes.

“Shut up, Harrington.” Eddie retorted to which Steve grumbled in response. You smiled to yourself before tying the boy's hair up with one of the spare hair ties you always kept around your wrist.

“Steve! Where do you keep your carrots?” Robin shouted from the kitchen and Steve sighed before getting up to check on the girl, Nancy following behind him. 

“All done!” You exclaimed to Eddie as he smiled at you and returned to his original seat.

“Hey.. ‘been meaning to ask. How’d you know what my name was? The first time we met, I mean. I never told you what it was.” He looked at you confused, clearly not putting two and two together and figuring out that your mother talked about him and Wayne to you as much as she did about you to them.

“Robin, stop taking bites out of my vegetables!”

“I’m making a bite-sized salad!”

You stared at him for a moment. “I’m magic.” You smiled as he chuckled at you. “My mom talks about you and Wayne a whole bunch.” 

“Oh? What’s Loretta been sayin’ about little old me?” He batted his eyelashes at you, theatrically putting a hand on his chest and smiling bashfully. 

“Hmmm.” You paused for a moment. “You have a DnD club at school, you play guitar, you’re in a band, what else, what else..oh! A couple years ago you tried to pierce your ear, failed and ran into the kitchen with a bleeding earlobe screaming ‘ITS GONNA FALL OFF ITS GONNA FALL OFF!’ “ You began to laugh at the last scenario, now being able to imagine it fully playing out after having met both Munson men. Eddie laughed along with you and you decided against mentioning the fact that your mother had been trying to talk Eddie up to you multiple times over the phone.

“Listen, in my defense, I pierced too far up - thought my whole earlobe was gonna fall off. There was so much blood it was insane!” You laughed even more at this, Eddie faking hurt. “Is my pain of amusement to you? How evil.” You shoved his arm a little, resulting in him poking you in your side which then resulted in you poking his side. Both of you were screaming and laughing like mad children.

Throughout the hubbub, you both failed to notice Steve, Robin and Nancy stood in the doorway, watching you both. 

“Okay, those two are a match made in heaven.” Steve stated.

“Please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say.” Nancy rolled her eyes at Steve as he locked eyes with Robin, who had a tomato seed on the end of her nose.

They nodded intensely before both saying what the other was thinking.

“Let’s set them up.”

-----

part 2

p.s. sorry for making Robin say 'let me get this straight'

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things

[junkdrawerfics]

the flustered detective

Kevin Ryan X Reader

Listen, I know this isn't Twilight, and I know this is like, a super random character that probably has such a small following, but I love him sooooo much, and had to write for him. So sue me, I'll probably write more for him.

Summary: You make Detective Ryan very nervous and everyone knows it. Even you. So yah, that's it, just a cute little fic about flustered Ryan.

Word Count: 1001

---

“Just go talk to her, man.”

Ryan jumps, jolted from his thoughts as his partner slaps him on the back. He casts Esposito a scowl, straightening his ruffled vest.

“I can’t just…talk to her,” he sighs out, defeat burning behind his tone, “I can barely get a word out when she’s around me!”

“I know,” Esposito snickers, “it’s pretty pathetic, actually.”

The glare leveled at him is deadly. Esposito holds his hands up defensively, inching away with a smirk still glued to his face.

“Sorry. Just saying. You need to man up and grow a-“

“What does Ryan need to do?” 

The sound of high heels clicking along the precinct floor makes both men go stock still. Beckett rounds the corner of her desk, fine brow raised as she lets her gaze drift between the two detectives. Castle pops up behind her, smiling ear to ear, which is never a good thing.

“I believe Espo here was trying to give our friend, Ryan, a little advice on his women troubles,” he hums, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t worry, Ryan, I’m sure we can-“

“No, no no,” Ryan jumps to his feet before Castle can come up with another wild concoction of a plan. “I do not need advice from you-“ He points a finger at Javier and then spins to Castle. “And I definitely don’t need help from you, mister three divorces.” 

“It was two actually…” the writer mutters, looking at his shoes like a kicked puppy. 

Ryan gives him a pointed look, as if what he said sounds any better, “My point exactly. Listen, guys, I’m fine! I am perfectly capable of talking to (Y/n) myself.”

“Talking to me about what?”

The group freezes. Except Kate, who watches over the rim of her coffee cup, eyes dancing with amusement as Ryan goes beet red. You glance between the four, eyes wide with confusion as the men pass each other “looks”. They’re always so secretive, like they’re kids trying to carry out an awful plan. It’s more endearing than it is insulting, though. Esposito makes a show of shoving Ryan’s shoulder, making him face you before he saunters off to the break room.

“What’s going on, Ryan?” You ask as Beckett drags Castle off by the ear, against his dramatic protests.

“Oh, uh, with, with us? Nothing, we just um,” he coughs, blush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. How cute. You fight back a smile, settling with a look of amusement that only seems to fluster him more. “We were just talking about a case! Yah a case. And I was going to…ask for your help?”

“Really?” You hum, head tilting ever so slightly. Ryan’s jaw clenches and he nods, lips pressed together tightly. You almost want to tease him a little more, see how far the blush goes, but you’re afraid his poor heart might give out. “Okay. I can help with your case! As long as Kate’s onboard.”

“Yah, yah, she, um, she’s totally onboard.” Ryan cringes at the lie. Hopefully Beckett won’t mind. 

“Great!” You smile, sticking out your hand. “I look forward to working with you, Detective Ryan.”

He nods again, rushing to take your outstretched hand. You giggle as he fumbles. Heat creeps up Ryan’s neck, and man, he wishes he could just say something smooth like Javier, or witty like Castle, but all he can do is laugh awkwardly, heart racing a mile a minute. Just because he’s holding your hand.

He’s a grown man, he chastises himself, a detective for the NYPD. He can break down doors and take on criminals, hell, even face torture, but the feeling of your hand in his? That’s what makes him crumble.

The man looks to be seconds from passing out, you realize, chest aching with something fond. You give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Hey,” you whisper, and those gorgeous blue eyes snap up to yours, wide and uncertain in a way you’ve never seen. It makes your chest ache even worse and your smile turns uncharacteristically soft for just a moment. “Easy tiger. You're doing great.”

That seems to help. Ryan forces his muscles to relax, taking a deep breath and nodding slowly. You give his hand one final squeeze. Your hands are so small compared to his, and not covered in calluses or scars, a thought he tries not to linger on as you slip away back to your desk. Just in time for his team to make a reappearance.

“Sooo?” Javier leans in front of him, eyebrows wagging, “What did you say, mister ‘I can talk to her myself’?”

“I um.” Ryan passes a hand over his neck, trying to get rid of the tingling sensation in his palm. Or maybe trying to lock it in his memory. “I may have…invited her onto the case?”

His partner's face falls. Esposito shakes his head, muttering disappointment under his breath, “Are you serious, man?”

“Yah, are you serious?” Kate presses, faking a frown. It’s impossible to be mad after watching that…ordeal play out. But she’s not one to miss an opportunity to mess with them. Just a little payback.

“It just-“ Ryan slumps back into his desk, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “-happened. I didn’t know what else to say, okay? I just- I have the words in my head, and then she’s in front of me, and it’s like-“ He purses his lips, blowing out a sigh of frustration.

“It’s like everything gets scrambled and nothing fits together anymore,” Castle murmurs (casting a knowing glance towards Beckett, who returns it with a warning glare).

“Exactly. I just…I like her so much, you know?”

“Nope.”

Ryan just about socks Esposito in the face, glowering up at him, “Very helpful, Javi.”

“I understand, Ryan,” Kate offers.

“You do?” He perks up hopefully.

“Yah. I remember I had a hard time talking to this one guy I really liked…you know, back in middle school.”

Ryan groans, “I have no sanctuary.”

---

When I tell you I would die for this man-

#castle #reader insert #x reader #reader #kevin ryan #ryan #ryan x reader #kevin ryan x reader #castle tv #castle tv show #kate beckett #javier esposito #rick castle

[hotluncheddie]

'I haven't swam in so long' steve said in a small voice, a little wistful as they passed the public pool on the way to watch a movie.

'oh yeah?' eddie looks at him, smile small and surprised at steves little declaration.

'mmm' steve doesn't go on but does reach over to hold eddies hand, keeps driving to the theatre in a comfortable silence.

eddie though, he can't seem to stop thinking about it.

eddies never seen steve swim. he knows he likes it because he still has all the trophies from the high school team and the first time he gave eddie the swim jersey to wear it was with an air of reverence. followed by some making out that felt a little possessive, which eddie was not complaining about.

last time he saw steve in water it was followed by horrific upside down shit so he does not! count that! thank you!

eddie also knows steve’s pool is not somewhere he enjoys anymore, for very good reason. but he can’t help but feel a little sad knowing that if all the shit hadn’t gone down steve might still spend time in there, practicing and enjoying himself.

eddie just wants steve to be able to do things he enjoys. steve is wonderful and deserves it! deserves a good solid hobby that has lots of benefits for his mental and physical health!!

so eddie suggests they take everyone to the lake. its a little while away in the next town but nothing too crazy and if they leave early there’s more than enough hours of sunlight for everyone to enjoy themselves and eddie will have time to force steve into enjoying himself too.

steve seems a little surprised and then a little apprehensive to the idea. but it's the promise of everyone together, in the sun, being young and that's just about steve's favourite thing in the world so he agrees.

the section of lake they find is blessedly quiet, allowing everyone to spread a little. their silly family filling the sand with books and towels, the water with games and laughter.

eddie stays dutifully by steves side, lounging by the shore. steve letting out the occasional huff if things get a little too rough, 'don't like kill each other, guys come on!' he's ignored but eddie can't help how endeared he feels.

after about an hour steve hasn't touched the water more than to paddle a little and eddie can tell its because he won't let himself relax enough to even think about going to swim properly.

he can't hold it in anymore, fiddling with his hair he bites the bullet.

'why don't you take a swim love?' eddie isn't sure why he feels so nervous, the plan isn't anything insidious, its just steve getting to swim again.

humming a little steves face scrunches, like he's not sure if he's allowed that ‘i just gotta make sure they’re okay first’

‘i’ll do that for a bit doll, leave it to me yeah?’ god eddie loves him, he so so kind. he gives so much.

‘i haven’t swam in so long’ steve says with a far away look on his face, voice softer against the breeze.

‘you miss it?’ eddie feels the moment rising, the bubble about to burst.

‘yeah, i always liked it. things would get quiet.. but it’s been so long.’

‘you can do it now though yeah? go swim for a bit, let your brain turn off for a while. i’ll look after everyone and i’ll be here when your ready to get out.’

‘yeah, yeah okay. it’s been so long’

and eddie, he really doesn’t know shit about any sport really, especially swimming. but eddie knows that steve is good. he waded halfway in before propelling forward in a dive and he was off with solid, fluid strokes. he fucking glides and eddie is mesmerised.

the lakes pretty sizeable and steve, well he just keeps going, all the way to the other side where there’s a small bank the same as where eddie is seated. he can see the little figure of steve stumble out of the water. hands on knees for a moment to breathe heavy before he spins to wave big and wild, with both arms above his head, at eddie across the water. eddie let’s out a laugh and matches steve’s energy with his own wave and wolf whistle. almost certain he can hear steve’s laugh of delight travel through the wind between them.

then steve is diving back in, pulling himself through the water, back to their little shore.

once out, a little breathless, steve all but tackled eddie back into the sand. but he's laughing and eddie cackles, their wrestling turning more into just hugging. two boys in the sun.

'thank you' steve whispers and eddie almost doesn't hear. but he sees the soft smile and the way steves eyes look a little glassy and god, eddie would give anything for steve to be this happy all the time. always. forever.

#steddie #steve x eddie #summer boysss #swimmer!steve #kinda #eddie is a sweetheart #steadied fluff #my lovely goblin would give stevie baby the world its true #hotlunch #drabbles

[imakemywings]

Why Ship Eärendil/Elwing?

I think there are a lot of good reasons so let’s have a look (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

1. They have a lot in common. Both of them went through pretty traumatic events as children that involved being driven from their homes by an attacking force, losing family to that attacking force (Eärendil’s grandfather, Elwing’s parents and her brothers), and ending up refugees. They’re also at this point the only Peredhil in Middle-earth. There are a lot of difficult experiences they share, which allows them to understand each other on a level people without those experiences can’t as well.

2. They grew up together. They grew up in the Havens at Sirion and childhood-friends-to-lovers is a fire trope as far as I’m concerned. It’s very possible they played together as kids and they were there through each other’s awkward adolescent phases and talked each other through other crushes before they finally got together.

3. They obviously care about each other. We don’t see the details of a lot of marriages in The Silmarillion. Many of them are left wholly to the imagination as to how those characters acted around each other, but Eärendil and Elwing are explicitly devoted to each other.

“Eärendil found not Tuor nor Idril, nor came he ever on that journey to the shores of Valinor, defeated by shadows and enchantment. driven by repelling winds, until in longing for Elwing he turned homeward....” (Emphasis added)

Eärendil attempting his first voyage to Valinor is beset by all kinds of dangers, but it’s missing Elwing that finally makes him turn back and call this trip a bust.

“For Ulmo bore up Elwing out of the waves, and he gave her the likeness of a great white bird, and upon her breast there shone as a star the Silmaril, as she flew over the water to seek Eärendil her beloved.” (Emphasis added)

Beloved remains one of the peak terms of endearment, lbr.

“Then Eärendil, first of living Men, landed on the immortal shores...And Eärendil said to [his companions]: ‘Here none but myself shall set foot, lest you fall under the wrath of the Valar. But that peril I will take on myself alone, for the sake of the Two Kindreds.’

But Elwing answered: ‘Then would our paths be sundered for ever; but all thy perils I will take on myself also.’ And she leaped into the white foam and ran towards him...”

Elwing really said “if you’re damned then I will be too.” Here she accepts Eärendil’s fate, just as Eärendil later accepts hers and chooses the Elven path.

“But when all was spoken, Manwë gave judgement, and he said: ‘In this matter the power of doom is given to me. The peril that he ventured for love of the Two Kindreds shall not fall upon Eärendil, nor shall it fall upon Elwing his wife, who entered into peril for love of him...” (Emphasis added)

Even the Valar recognize how much these two care about each other!

“And at times, when Eärendil returning drew near again to Arda, she [Elwing] would fly to meet him, even as she had flown long ago, when she was rescued from the sea. Then the far-sighted among the Elves that dwelt in the Lonely Isle would see her like a white bird, shining, rose-stained in the sunset, as she soared in joy to greet the coming of Vingilot to haven.” (Emphasis added)

After their journey, even in spite of all their grief, they still find joy in one another. Their marriage is still strong even through everything they’ve seen.

4. They saved Middle-earth together. These two did what no one else had managed and sailed back to the Blessed Realm to get help for Middle-earth. Clearly, power couple moves.

”Yet Eärendil saw now no hope left in the lands of Middle-earth, and he turned again in despair and came not home, but sought back once more to Valinor with Elwing at his side.”

Friendly remind this journey is supposed to be impossible, but they are determined to do it because they know Middle-earth cannot survive without the intercession of the Valar.

“Few of the Teleri were willing to go forth to war, for they remembered the slaying at the Swanhaven, and the rape of their ships; but they hearkened to Elwing...and they sent mariners enough to sail the ships that bore the hose of Valinor east over the sea.”

But for Elwing, the Teleri would not have engaged in the war effort at all; she alone convinced them to help.

“But Eärendil came, shining with white flame, and about Vingilot were gathered all the great birds of heaven and Thorondor was their captain, and there was battle in the air all day and through a dark night of doubt. But before the rising of the sun Eärendil slew Ancalagon the Black, the mightiest of the dragon-host, and cast him down from the sky...”

From start to finish Eärendil and Elwing have been committed to saving Middle-earth from Melkor’s menace and boy do they see it through.

5. Eärendil chooses immortality to stay with Elwing. In a mirror of Beren and Lúthien’s story, Eärendil surrenders a mortal fate to stay joined with Elwing.

“Then Eärendil said to Elwing: ‘Choose thou, for now I am weary of the world.’ And Elwing chose to be judged among the Firstborn Children of Ilúvatar, because of Lúthien; and for her sake Eärendil chose alike...”

Eärendil both trusts Elwing to make this choice for both of them and makes the same choice as her even though it isn’t his first preference.

6. Eärendil named his boat, which becomes the immortal vessel in which he sails through the skies, after Elwing. Can we say romance?

7. Elwing gives Eärendil the Silmaril. In general, most people who get their hands on a Silmaril are not keen to give it up. Yet Elwing passes the Silmaril onto Eärendil without a fuss and never again takes possession of it.

8. Their super rad mythological couple energy. Half-Elven couple who braved the sea to voyage to a realm it was supposed to be impossible for them to find to bring back divine help for their home? Last queen of the forest kingdom who in her moment of greatest despair is lifted up by divine forces and transformed? Hero of the last bastion of the Elves in Middle-earth who uses his mariner skills to make an impossible voyage, bearing back a jewel thought lost forever? Former Elven queen who now abides in a white tower on the sea and talks to birds and transforms into a bird herself to fly up to greet the return of her husband? Immortal captain of a flying ship that slew a dragon and now keeps watch over the stars? They are killing it y’all.

Feel free to add on o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

All quotes in this post are from the “Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath” chapter of The Silmarillion!

Convinced? Not convinced? Try these fanfic recs under the cut:

At the Water’s Edge by crackinthecup - G - 3,349 - Eärrámë is nearly ready to sail. Tuor and Idril’s days at the Havens of Sirion are drawing to an end. It is a time of loss and hope for all, and Elwing is no exception.

Elwing, Survivor by crownlessliestheking - T - Elwing and Earendil after arriving in Valinor.

From the Ones Who Came Before by Krita - T - 5,247 - Elwing was young when Menegroth fell. Melian's line is complicated, but far more so is growing into yourself.

A Glimpse of the Harbor by me - G - 1,925 - Elwing watched for the return of Earendil's ship.

How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful by mochimilku - T - 1,185 - Eärendil, Elwing, and the ocean.

Let Us Taunt Old Care with a Merry Air / And Sing in the Face of Ill by me - G - 643 - When Elwing lands in the Havens, she befriends a young princeling from Gondolin.

The One With All the Birds by clothono - G - 46,543 - Elwing and Nerdanel in Valinor in the Fourth Age; a story about children coming home.

So Summer Comes by potatoesanddreams - G - 2,654 - Ada said he would be home by autumn equinox. It is winter solstice now.

Untitled by simaethae - G - E-squared family fluff.

#elwing #earendil #the silmarillion #meta #tolkien tag #let me just be clear I do not want to hear about why you think they were terrible #or why you want to portray them as shit parents #this is not the post for that #I am trying to be positive dammit #starwing #earendil x elwing #mine #earendil defense #elwing defense

[amazingmsme]

CURRENTLY SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS AT YOUR GUYS’ EPIC HEADCANONS, TO YOU AND THELAUGHTERCAFE THANK YOU FOR THE GOOD FOOD!!!! i love how playful and teasy you guys make odysseus, he’s a quick thinker and good with words so it makes sense that he would be the teasiest motherfucker on that ship, and he likes to wreck people with a strategic approach, using the tactics and types of teasing that he knows work best on the specific person.

i love the idea of eurylochus witnessing so much of odysseus and polites’ shenanigans that at this point he just Knows when one of them is about to do or say something that’s gonna get them wrecked, and sometimes he says nothing and just lets it happen but sometimes he’ll actually be like “whatever you’re about to do don’t do it” and they usually don’t listen when he says that and then lo and behold they suffer the consequences, and eurylochus just watches them reap what they sow like “i tried to warn you, man”

i also feel like polites would genuinely not understand why everyone loves to (affectionately) bully him so much, and he’s not entirely complaining but he’ll still whine about it like “why is it always me </3” and they just stare at him like how does he not know that his smile and his laugh are like a beautiful warm summer day - fluffvoid

I’M SO HAPPY THAT I HAVE Y’ALL TO BOUNCE IDEAS OFF OF IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY! Seriously, the depression has been hitting hard, but these headcanons make me so happy & giddy! At this point, I’m getting a little desperate for a fic lol

He’s literally such a smug little shit! Like, this guy literally tricked Athena of all people & then laughed in her face immediately after. He’s so charming even when he’s being all smug & sly about it, so you just know his teases are deadly. If he doesn’t make you whine out of embarrassment he’s clearly not working hard enough

Real talk, I fucking LOVE that part in warrior of the mind where he does that sly lil chuckle like wtf who told you to be so dorky & endearing? I feel like he does that laugh right before he pounces or whenever he’s teasing the hell out of someone

When he’s bored, one of his favorite things is to trick people into falling for one of his traps. Even goes as far as to plan out what he’s going to say for the best outcome. King of gaslighting, acting like he’s not planning to wreck their shit & being all innocent & clueless when they try & call him out on it only to strike the moment they let their guard down

Eurylochus is so used to it & by now he knows all of their worst spots, what teases get to them, & how they act both when they’re about to wreck someone or about to get wrecked

Because of this, he’s picked up on Odysseus’s favorite teases & phrases to use while tickling someone. Especially if it’s Polites, because he’s so easy to fluster & Odysseus makes sure to use the most effective ones, so yeah, sometimes he repeats himself from time to time

But Eurylochus just learns to pick up on it, & one time he said the tease in perfect sync with Odysseus, kinda as a way to tease him for being predictable. But he was like “hey Polites-“ & Eurylochus was like bet I know what he’s about to say & goes out on a limb & proceeds to do the funniest fucking thing & they both ask “do you think the gods meant to make you so ticklish, or was it just an accident?”

Odysseus is frozen is shock, mouth gaping open as he stares at him. Meanwhile Polites immediately burst into loud laughter, not even from the tickling but from the look on his face & the sheer absurdity of it all. He’s just like “wow you really do use that one a lot!” & Odysseus is just staring at Eurylochus & is like “so you think you’re funny now?” & abandons his original target in favor of teaching him a lesson on what happens when you mock the captain

But dude doesn’t really learn cause it’s been a couple months since that happened. But while watching those 2 goofballs get into yet another tickle fight, he decides to make things a little more interesting & turns it into a drinking game. Odysseus & Polites are none the wiser… until a completely shitfaced Eurylochus tells them why he’s so wasted & now they’re both teaching him a lesson because wtf how dare he turn them into a drinking game!

Polites starts to catch on that he seems to be everyone’s favorite target & he’s like “wait a minute, that’s not fair!” He knows questioning their captain will only prompt another attack so he goes onto Eurylochus when he’s alone & is like “so… do you, uh, know why everyone… always tickles me?” & he’s blushing soooo much & Eurylochus has to fight back a smile, but it doesn’t really work & he’s smirking when he answers “what can I say? You have a nice laugh” & Polites is so flattered & flustered he’s just like “r-really? Wow, thank you!” & he’s about to walk away & Eurylochus speaks up “that, and you make it almost too easy” & he turns around like what? but Eurylochus grabs him up in a hug & starts tickling his sides & tummy. So he did get his answer, it just came with a price

These dudes are actively consuming my mind, thank y’all for indulging me

#asks #anon ask #epic headcanons #odysseus #polites #eurylochus #the odyssey #epic the musical

[archaiclumina]

19. Has your OC ever had an experience with the paranormal or the divine? What happened? Was it a one time encounter or is it a normal part of their life? Did they find it terrifying or thrilling?

Thank you so much for the ask! ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ It was fun to share this stuff because I don't usually go into it very much with folks! I should preface this by saying I find the paranormal a fun concept to play with in FFXIV because it’s actually real in that world, so I enjoy messing around with it a lot! It’s something which fascinates me IRL, and I always find it more fun to add things I’m interested in learning more about to my RP OCs because I feel it helps give them a bit more longevity for me as the writer!

So, with that said, both Ren and Oli have a good deal of experience with the paranormal, I built it into their character concepts.

Because I type too much, I'll start with Oli, and those interested can find Ren under the cut!

Oliviede’s experience with the paranormal comes in a pretty traditional occultist fashion, involving old artefacts she owns, and maybe slightly macabre rituals she researches and practices; which she believes provides her with a deeper connection to the will of the elementals both within and outside of the Shroud. Many of these rituals contain elements which her studies have led her to believe are precursors to some of her family’s alchemical and herbalist traditions.

In the spirit of trying to rediscover the knowledge that she lost when her family passed in the Calamity and their home was destroyed, she’s taken to practicing these rituals regularly, and that’s how the tattoos and brands on her body come about. (I personally headcanon these rituals as from the time of Mhach and Amdapor. But of course, because real canon information on these time periods in the game’s history is sparse, they’re just riffs on real world occult stuff I’ve found interesting and spent time playing around with conceptually to create a lorebent version of them within the game’s setting. It was the description for the Demon Door of Amdapor that first sort of spawned all these ideas.)

Another way to put all this is: she takes loads of psychedelics, ritualistically brands and tattoos herself and then tries to commune with the elementals.

For Ren the paranormal and inexplicable has been part of her life since she was a child.

Ren’s mother, the aforementioned insane perfectionist, is a brilliant aetherologist and astromancer whose work has extensively focused on the aethereal sea. She’s also almost entirely devoid of basic decency, so she tested one of her prototypes for trying to trace signatures within said sea by asking her six-year-old to look through its eyepiece. Because that was the person most readily available to her at the time. Her six-year-old, was of course, Cyfrenne, and it’s fair to say the experience was terrifying for a child. And it most certainly did something. Changed the colour of her eye for one, which became a permanent reminder of the events. But it did something else too, in so far as it gave Ren access to a great many memories which aren’t actually her own.

She doesn’t have visions; she doesn’t see anything. She just knows things she shouldn’t, and the knowledge will occur to her at arbitrary times in her life, and it isn’t always useful. She might be cutting the crust off a finger sandwich and suddenly know an entire story about a lost key that belongs to someone who she doesn’t know at all. They might even already be dead and she’s just remembering what they remembered, as if they’d told her over a cup of chai. Probably because Ren had a bit of a lonely childhood, this oddity has never really bothered her. She’s endeared to it. Most of Ren’s research into arcanima and aetherolinguistics has been wholly focused on finding ways to give these memories form that she could better study them, and perhaps make better use of them for herself. That said she doesn’t tell most people that’s what her research is focused on.

#oc answers #oc ask meme #oli #ren #thank you so much for the ask! #I really enjoyed getting to share these little headcanons c: #Asks and answers

[jakowskis]

Day 15 - Are there any ships you dislike?

alrighty so. there are only rlly four i ‘dislike’, and the first three… it’s more complicated than anything, it’s not entirely utter pure-n-simple disdain. it’s less about the ships themselves (in two of the cases, anyway) and more about how they seem to be perceived by the fandom + how much they dominate everything. other ships exist, guys! the other characters exist! anyway ill try not to be mean but i am gonna be petty, lol

so for starters, yeah, jack x ianto. i have a very specific view of it, that i do enjoy, but the fandom seems to be doing something else entirely and i've developed some resentment despite myself. especially bc it’s overrated as fuck. don’t get me wrong, it’s iconic, as far as being culturally significant gay rep, but if im honest idk how well they hold up in 2024? i thought their relationship in s1 and s2 of the show was lackluster at best. poorly written bread crumbs. and yeah i know it was big for 2006 but im just personally kind of offended that they could show them sucking face but not show the intricacies of why the hell ianto would fall for a guy who shot his girlfriend down?? like, their relationship is inherently dark and angsty to me and im interested in exploring that, bc the show certainly doesn’t (initially) bother to, and a lot of the fan content i see is either fluffy (??????????), or angsty in a Tragique way, or is just kind of… fetishy and whumpy? people slot them into a Specific Kind of Dynamic and it grosses me tf out. so the fandom culture rubs me wrong, and then it’s just… such a bummer to like owen and tosh and gwen in a fandom that only seems to prioritize this one ship. there are 22k fics in the torchwood ao3 tag, and 13k of them are janto. now, all that being said… they do intrigue me and endear me, just a bit. but it took the audios to make me give a fuck about them, which is sad. 

on that same note - i have the same relationship with tosh x owen, but i'm significantly less fond of it, cuz it just plain rubs me wrong. i like them in theory, so i spent months trying to figure out how to make them work and what other people are seeing that they think is so endearing and cute - i just can't find it. owen's treatment of tosh is just about the only thing i can't stand about him. he treats everyone poorly, but most of the rest of the cast defends themself (or even hit back, like ianto and gwen, and thats why i ship them with him! it’s spicy! i love balanced unhealthy dynamics in fiction hfdsjkf i can’t lie) - but tosh just lets him, creating an unhealthy power imbalance where she’s just getting hurt over and over again, and it makes me wanna fucking punch him cuz she does Not deserve that. i want him far away from her lmao. except under certain circumstances, cuz i have written fic about them, and i’ve read like three rlly good ones (and the main link between them is tosh stands up for herself and puts him in his place! i HATE how he walks all over her in canon ughhhhhhhhh). additionally, i do admittedly enjoy the angst of their canon arc. i just think fandom throwing them together and making it cutesy is lazy, uncreative, and an injustice to both characters. i think the SHOW throwing them together was an injustice to both characters, especially tosh’s. they're tragic and compelling, ill give them that, but theyre not sweet, and i don't think they'd be good for each other. 

(also worth noting on a show where everyone has tension w each other, imo barrowman & gareth and naoko & burn pull it off the least convincingly and have little to no chemistry. like every other duo just kind of sparks in some way or another, and neither of those duos do. which SUCKS bc they’re the canon ones. but it’s also heavily poor writing like they were doing the best w what they had. grr. like i still dont know what the fuck ianto likes about jack or what tosh likes about owen 😭 that’s ridiculous!)

the other ship i’m petty about is jack x john hart. i just think it’s far too popular for what it is. idek why that is, do we have a substantial amount of buffy fans in the fandom? don’t get me wrong, i liked john in the show + i liked their relationship as well, but i'll always be annoyed when a minor character gets more attention than the fascinating main ones. 

and lastly i hate john x ianto, because i respect ianto, lmao. i can’t lie, if he was my fav i’d probs ship it HJFKDSHFK i love putting my favs in awful situations. but as is it just grosses me out. get him outta there!! 

tldr: i don’t interact w the john hart side of the fandom, and if a fic is tagged 'jack/ianto tosh/owen gwen/rhys' i probably won’t read it 😷

#tdot #txt #i feel meannn fdshfjkd #idk how tumblr search works anymore i RLLY hope this doesnt go in any tags cuz im not interested in hurting ppl's feelings u kno #i dont wanna be smth negative in another person's fandom experience #lord knows i block owen haters HJKFSD cuz it bums me out to see so #but! yeah these r my thots n opinions

[a-boca-do-inferno]

eyes never lie (tom hagen x reader)

summary: A little party never killed nobody, right? 

warnings: cheating, swearing, smut, angst-ish

words: 2.8k

notes: the amount of time i spent on this is embarrassing lmao. this is 100% self-indulged btw and also only fiction pls do not cheat on your significant other (only with cute little mafia men <3). enjoy!

A long sigh escaped your lips for the thousandth time as you only kept nodding at whatever Connie was saying. You just couldn’t pay attention to the conversation anymore; your boredom was far greater than any other feeling you had now. Business meetings felt like a slap in the face and these type of “family fraternizations” were always a hard pass for you, as you very much preferred a simple afternoon coffee with your mother-in-law, no shady men in fancy suits whispering to each other. Still, you were compelled to accompany your husband every now and then. You had a reputation to maintain even within family, after all. 

“C’mon, (y/n), I’m sure you’re gonna love it!”, it’s Connie’s voice once more, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You shake your head slightly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Connie. Michael won’t like not seeing me here.” 

“Oh, please, it’s not like we’re gonna miss anything”, she waves her hand in a sneering gesture, pointing with her chin in the direction of your husband’s office. “Besides, they’re working now. Michael’s mind is clearly elsewhere, he won’t even notice you’re gone.” 

You couldn’t help but sigh this time. Connie was just too persistent for her own good. You take a look at the wooden door to your side and nod briefly, giving up. “Fine. But we’ll be back before eleven, you hear me?!” 

She only smiled triumphally, already making her way out the mansion while you followed her suit. A rush of excitement rushed through your body as you got in her car, driving off to God knows where. You liked Connie because she was fearless, reckless, even a little bit crazy at times. She was truly a breath of fresh air from all the tension surrounding your family, you even considered her one of your best friends. So, despite not knowing exactly what she had in mind, you trusted her. Besides, maybe what you needed was really just a quick get-away.  

A little party never killed nobody, right? 

Before marrying Michael, you had already been a friend of the Corleone family for many years. When Vito died, you became much closer with Carmela; they both always treated you like a daughter, after all, long afore you got engaged to their son. The boys and Connie even used to joke about you being the “female Tom Hagen”, especially Tom Hagen himself, while flashing you a warm smile whenever you were around their house. You always thought he was the kindest Corleone man — as ironic as that may sound, since he was adopted —, so you found pleasant being referred to as such, although the joke was now but a good memory from the past.  

As time went on, it only made sense you’d end up marrying one of their sons one day. Don Corleone was never really subtle about wanting you to “birth him some grandchildren”, as he liked to say. Michael eventually proposed to you when he got back from Sicily, not really taking anyone by surprise, what with everyone’s revelation that his endearment to you had been no secret from the start. It was such a beautiful ceremony, you still remember Vito’s happiness to this day... But ever since he passed away, things started to change. Mostly with Michael, of course, as he was now the head of the family business.  

You have no quarrel with his line of work, never had; however, you would be lying if you said it sometimes didn’t take a toll in your marriage. Most notably in the past few months, where you’d both often find yourselves in a pointless argument about the stupidest things. You liked to think it had little to do with your relationship per se, and rather his stressful job, but at times it felt as though you weren’t happy as a couple anymore. He became more possessive by the day, even going as far as ordering you around like one of his henchmen. And although you did not like that, not one bit — especially because you were raised to have dignity, something his own father had taught you on many occasions —, as his wife, you had to oblige and understand your position. And you did, heaven knows.  

But God, was it tiring. 

“We’re here!”, Connie announces happily, parking in front of a modest building. She glances at you briefly before getting out of the vehicle. “Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve come here. I found this place right after I left Carlo. C’mon, let’s party!” 

You chuckled at her almost cartoonish excitement, accompanying her up the three steps that lead toward the door. You didn’t know that neighbourhood, and to be honest it didn’t feel very safe, but Connie seemed to be familiar with the surroundings, so it couldn’t be that bad. You trusted her, after all.  

The door slowly opened and caught your attention. You were greeted by a woman in her fifties, probably, and she offered a warm, even motherly smile to Connie. They both hugged tightly and you raised a brow, still lost as to who that was and where you actually were. The lady then measured you up and down before clapping her hands in a pleased gesture, coming to give you a hug as well.  

“Mrs. Corleone, what a pleasure! Welcome, welcome!”, she patted your back in enthusiasm, looking at you with content eyes. “Come on in, make yourselves at home.” 

You blinked once, still taken aback by her display of affection to you when you had never seen that woman in your life, but she didn’t seem to notice or mind it. You watched as she made way for you to come inside and Connie readily grabbed your wrist, pulling you to follow her around. The door closed behind you and you were in what it seemed to be a living room of sorts. You exchanged a look with Connie and she nodded happily, unable to hold back her delight. It only got you more curious.  

The smell in the air was nicotine, incense and alcohol. There were two red couches next to each other, just in the beginning of the corridor, and both looked ancient. The walls were a dark, almost faded shade of brown, and the infiltration was blatant on all of them. You all walked past the living room, towards the hallway. As you got to what it looked like an office of some kind, a chatter coming from upstairs only got louder. There were laughing and singing, so you took it the “party” your sister-in-law talked about earlier was certainly taking place up there.  

“Connie, what...”  

You’re cut off by the woman stopping in her tracks, urging you both to do the same. She is still grinning while staring at you. “Would you like separate rooms?” 

“Yes!”, Connie says, turning to you. “You’ll be fine by yourself, (y/n), won’t you? You’re a grown-up", she has a mischievous look on her face. 

You frown, bothered by all of that suspense. “Connie, what is this place?” 

“The finest brothel in town, my dear!”, the woman chimes in. 

Your eyes widen in panic. “The finest what?”, you gasp and Connie only chuckles at your disbelief, waving her hand. “Connie, you said it was a party.” 

“Well, it is!”, she shrugs, then glances back at the lady. “We’ll take two separate rooms next to each other. Apparently Mrs. Corleone here has been married for so long, she forgot how to jolly up.” 

“I am absolutely not...” 

“You don’t have to have sex with anyone, silly”, Connie cuts you off. “It’s just for the laughs!”, she then giggles like a child, which only makes the situation more obnoxious in your head. Still holding your arm, she adds, “c’mon, Dorothy will show us the way.” 

You couldn’t believe what was happening, but you couldn’t stop your legs from following them upstairs either. There was a sting of sordid curiosity in your chest, and with it being wrapped up in that same rush of excitement of doing something different for a change, your brain just wouldn’t order your body to turn around and go back to your husband. You tried to remind yourself it was merely for the laughs, at last. No one would ever find out anyways, especially not Michael; so, you were safe.  

You arrived at the second floor only to be met with a couple of women standing there. Each one of them had some cheap, dirty dress, contrasting with their beauty. All eyes fell upon you and you felt your cheeks heat up. You avoided their gaze to look back at Connie and she bore the same amusement as she pointed to the last door in the corridor, encouraging you with a nod. You scoffed, shaking your head. This was such a stupid thing, rich and respectable women posing as prostitutes only for the jokes, but you still couldn’t deny that you liked the little feeling of adventure growing inside you.  

“Have fun!”, Connie says as you walk away from her, causing you to roll your eyes in a mix of irritation and mirth. 

You opened the door and everything was dark inside. You supposed there wasn’t any “client” yet, so you simply made your way to the empty bed, sitting on the edge. It was surprisingly inviting and soft for a brothel’s furniture, making you lean in on the pillows and sit more comfortably. For a moment you closed your eyes and pretended you were back at home, in your own bed, waiting for Michael to come out of the bathroom and take you as passionately as he used to, before your relationship started to struggle. You couldn’t even remember the last time you made love with him that felt really good, and not just something to get you both off for the night. He was a busy man, you knew that, but having to constantly share him with his work frustrated you to no end as of lately.  

The doorknob made a sound and you jumped in your spot, sitting back on the edge of the mattress in a swift movement. Anticipation ran through your whole body when you saw a silhouette approaching in the darkness, closing the door as it was swallowed fully by the blackness inside the room. The man’s footsteps were like drums in your ears, following the same rhythm as the rapid beating of your heart.  

You cleared your throat while he stopped by the bedside lamp, right in front of you, and your breath hitched as he turned on the light. You stared at each other with a rather comical shock at first, a stretching silence around you. Tom’s mouth still hung open when you got up and stood face to face with him, so close you could take in every single note of his strong cologne. It made you feel almost dizzy.  

“It’s not what you think”, you are the first one to speak, widened eyes as you blink nervously at him. “But please, don’t tell anyone”, you add, and the desperation in your voice sounds too pathetic to your own ears. 

Tom merely nods. “I wasn’t gonna.”  

And just like that, all your worries seem to disappear into thin air. Suddenly his hot, heavy breath against your lips is the only thing there is in your senses, similar to liquor warming every inch of your body as it streams down your throat. Your hands automatically land on his chest and his reaction is instant, pulling you into an urgent kiss without another word. Initially, you’re unable to think of anything else other than the pressure his tongue puts on yours, sweeping your mouth at an agonizingly slow pace. But as soon as you need to part ways looking for air, reality comes crashing down on you. This is your brother-in-law, for Christ’s sake. 

What are you doing? 

“This is wrong”, you choke, shaking your head quickly as you back away from him. Tom himself doesn’t look the least distressed, but then again, you can’t remember ever seeing him out of his usual collected demeanour for any reason; even in moments of pain and panic, as they are so common in the family business. You hug your body protectively, avoiding his piercing gaze that right now is just too calm for your liking. “I’m only here because Connie brought me”, you begin, not wanting to blame it all on Connie, but it was technically the truth. “I wasn’t going to... Nothing was going to happen. It was just for the laughs”, you can’t help but let out a miserable chuckle, your last words but a whisper as if even your brain couldn’t believe them anymore. 

“I’m not accusing you of anything, (y/n)”, his voice is soft as a lullaby, ironically causing your insides to turn. Tom then takes an experimental step towards you and you hold your breath involuntarily, the maddening feel of his lips still lingering on yours. He laughs lightly, probably amused by your poor control over your emotions. “I already told you I’m not going to say anything, I would never do that to you.” 

“I believe you”, you sigh in defeat, finally giving up. Your shoulders slump and Tom takes the signal as an invitation, taking another step closer to you. His face is against the light now, but it somehow highlights the design of his jaw. It’s breath-taking. “Tom...” 

“You kissed me back”, he points out matter-of-factly, and you feel your cheeks burn. His fingertips touch your face and now it’s impossible to escape his dark eyes. “Why?”, comes the unexpected murmur, making you frown slightly. 

“You know why, Tom”, you offer him a small smile, trying to find any lingering doubt in his orbs. You don’t. “The eyes never lie, do they?” 

He shrugs, gripping your waist again as he pulls you close. “Let’s find out now.” 

Then it comes again, that wave of anticipation drowning you before you can even get to the surface for air. The kiss is as desperate as the first, hard, and his weight presses you against the bedroom door with a loud thud. It hurts a little, but you’re more focused on the way your whole body tingles when his hands roam your bust, squeezing and caressing every inch of skin they find in their path. His mouth tastes like cigarettes and alcohol on yours, yet his movements are as sober as it gets. Cold, long fingers grip at your sides and you put your legs around his hips in a tight hold, reflexively.  

Your dress is violently pushed up and your underwear is swiftly put to the side, exposing your core to the coldness of the room. A moan escapes your lips as Tom enters you with no delicacy and he finds your swollen mouth for another deep, wet kiss. You both wanted this, there wasn’t really need for any ceremonies. And the eyes in fact did not lie; not with his sweaty body trapping yours in such an urgent pounding, not with the way his breath mixed in with yours from time to time, making you share the same hot air. He let out a quiet groan when your walls tightened around him and you smiled briefly, not being able to hold back the loud sounds leaving your own mouth when his tongue went towards the spot between your breasts, painting it glossy with his saliva.  

“Fuck, fuck!”, you blurted out, digging your nails on his shoulders.  

His hips were crushing you against the wooden door now and you were sure the thud was blaring enough to be heard outside in the hallway, but you couldn’t care less. He thrust one, two, three times more and a third wave of anticipation hit your body, while you trembled in his arms before going absolutely limp. Tom came right after, splashing the inside of your thighs in white colour. You stayed with your legs straddling him for a few seconds, trying to catch your breath.  

The silence between you was somewhat pleasant and you let yourself forget everything, for that moment: Michael, your marriage, the family business... All that mattered now was how tender Tom’s hands were caressing your hips under the dress mindlessly, while his face was buried in your neck. His mouth was still pressed to your skin, but it did nothing there. No kiss, it just lingered on your pores. You felt a shiver up your spine as your eyes met his again, only to find there not a single drop of regret or shame.  

Tom then left a quick peck on your collarbone, seeming to be entertained by how your chest rose up and down. “Are you okay?”, he speaks softly, waiting for your answer with no rush in his bearing. This was nice, you reckoned, how so much different he was from your husband. Michael’s calmness was calculating, cold, intense; Tom’s was soothing. You appreciated that right now.  

“I am”, you murmur, with heated cheeks as you remember the position you’re both still in. “Are you?” 

Tom looks away for a moment, seeming to think of his reply. Then a faint smile paints his lips, and you just know. But he asks, anyway, “can’t you see it in my eyes?” 

#the godfather x reader #the godfather imagine #tom hagen x reader #tom hagen imagine #the godfather #tom hagen

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hello, could I ask for headcanons of Snake with a s/o who has snakes of their own? Some other characters I would like to include are Cheslock, Violet, Joanne, and Charles Grey please!

absolutely!! this is so cute, I’m sorry Grey is kind of a BUTT in regard to this dfjkldafjkla

but anyway snakes are my favorite animals so I do be VIBING

Just… keep those things away from him, right? There are some things he’s just not fond of, and snakes are one of them. He doesn’t care if his S/O has them, as long as he doesn’t really have to interact with the creatures regularly. It’s not as strong as a fear (the things aren’t ghosts, after all); more he… simply doesn’t care for them.

He’ll give them water to drink or help with baths if (Name) asks, but no way in hell is he going to help with feeding. Even if he liked snakes, he just doesn’t have the stomach for that. He won’t even get as far as trying ― they ask, and he flat-out says that he doesn’t want to. At least he’s good at setting boundaries!

To be clear: if he wakes up to the beasts in his bed or anything along those lines, he will ask his S/O to choose him or them. It’s more about boundaries, again, than anything else. As far as he’s concerned, the bed is not a place for pets, it’s for people. It’s different if (Name), say, asks him to hold the snakes or lets them slither on the carpet in front of the hearth or anything where he knows they’re out and about. He’s fine with that. He just won’t tolerate them nearby, while he’s sleeping and unaware, in the bed. Otherwise he actually handles them very well for someone who’s not a snake person… for a short time, anyway.

Huh… that’s a bit different, innit? Certainly not something you see every day. Luckily, Cheslock is obviously a sucker for the unconventional, which includes pets. So he’s totally well and good with these wiggly little guys, and in fact he really likes them! That said, snakes (and their care, etc.) are something he doesn’t know too much about, so (Name) should expect a good deal of questions to answer and misconceptions to correct. He’s passionate and curious, though, which counts for a lot!

He might be a small bit wary the first few times he holds them, because he’s never really done that before. He likes it, of course; just the idea of getting bitten makes him a little anxious! Thankfully he gets used to handling them fairly quickly. It’s a great way to bond with both them and with his S/O. Plus, he’s not the least bit paranoid about constrictors squeezing him slightly to hang on!

In the future, he’s definitely going to get tattoos dedicated to the snakes, just like he’s got one dedicated to (Name). It’ll probably be like one tattoo on his leg, with all the snakes’ names winding up from his ankle and maybe some scale designs. Hell, he might even be cheeky and get snakebite piercings “in honor of the little buggers!” Don’t let that fool you, he really does care about and enjoy the snakes his darling has made company with.

Breathtaking…! Being into all the weird and strange things, seeing the beauty in places no one else might find it, he’s instantly fascinated. His beloved just keeps getting more and more intriguing, don’t they? These are exotic animals, not the ones he may see all the time like dogs or cats or even birds, for that matter. (Name) found something about them to be drawn in by, which he can undoubtedly appreciate. And, well, he must admit… the snakes are awfully cute.

Sooooooo many drawings of them will be coming practically as soon as he’s introduced to his S/O’s pets. That’s the case with any subject he gets interested in, is that he’s compelled to start drawing them. Artists! It’s endearing, though, to see him just as enthralled to draw the snakes as he is to draw (Name) themself. And he’s so incredibly talented, they’re sure to keep everything forever ― paintings, sketches, etchings, everything, because he works in a variety of mediums and they’re each just as gorgeous as the other.

He’s terribly relaxed about the idea of the snakes crawling on him. Handling them and having them in his lap or draped over his arms or anything like that doesn’t bother him in the slightest. Why should he be at all perturbed by that, really? Not only is he happy to be giving them plenty of warmth, it also takes… quite a bit to faze Gregory Violet. The company is nice, and he also can’t deny that he likes to pet whichever snakes will tolerate that kind of treatment; it’s calming, in a way. If he were just a little less vigilant (or like Edgar), he might fall asleep cuddling with them and (Name).

Oh, that’s… well… well, that’s certainly different! Although he’s heard of people having snakes as pets, he’s never actually known of anyone in real life (in relation to his own life, at least) who’s kept them. Like with many things, he’s quite starry-eyed when it comes to new concepts such as this. He’s been a little sheltered in terms of varied experiences, but thank goodness he’s got an escape in books. It means he’s maybe slightly startled by his S/O’s pets, and not outright terrified. That’s a win, right?

Oh, he loves it when they flick their little tongues out at him!! That means they’re smelling him, which he knows, so he makes sure to never, ever, ever change the kind of soap he uses. This way they can recognize him much more easily and won’t get confused. Plus, a couple of them seem rather keen on slithering into his hair, especially when it’s covering his face, so that’s cause not to switch shampoos either. And their tongues tickle his skin, making him laugh, so he’s never not smiling when he’s with the snakes. Once or twice (Name) has even caught him mirroring the gesture, with the snake sticking their tongue out briefly and Joanne then sticking the tip of his tongue out in return. Cuuuute.

Honestly, he’s excited to have an animal he can actually interact with, without any issues! He’s allergic to pretty much anything with fur, and although that doesn’t stop him from playing with his older sister’s cat, it does make him miserable for hours after. Joanne’s eager to go ahead and ‘adopt’ the snakes after his S/O introduces him, thinking of the creatures as his pets just as much as theirs. As long as the snakes are alright with it and not stressed, he’ll gladly lounge on the couch for hours reading with them in his lap or coiled around his arms. Being lonely has been a constant in his life before things improved, and even now he’s still shy, so… it’s nice to see him happy and peaceful like this.

… Snake play dates??? Oh, yes, most certainly, snake play dates. He loves that his friends and his S/O’s friends can just kind of be together and mess around and be snakes with each other. As long as none of them happen to get frisky with one another, (snakes will be snakes), he knows they’ll all play nice. Ergo, he and (Name) don’t have to worry so much if they happen to want to, well, be alone for a bit. Not to mention, he also doesn’t have to worry about his darling not being supportive of the snakes, because, well, they’ve got scaly buddies of their own! He’s really never been more in love than with someone who also prefers the company of snakes.

Both of them serve as snake babysitters for each other’s snakes, too. They’re happy to do it! Snake’s snakes trust (Name), and (Name)’s snakes trust Snake, so it’s really not that hard. (Name) has exactly zero problems learning all of their little quirks and interacting with them, and Snake can talk to them so it’s not an issue for him in any way. It’s rather sweet to watch them interact with each other’s pets, because it’s so clear the love and care they have. Now it’s like they’ve got one big snake cuddle puddle rather than separate groups; neither of them could possibly be more content with that, of course.

This really is something he’s only dared to dream about. Most of his life he’s been quite aware that most people he might befriend, let alone be with romantically, would probably only tolerate the presence of snakes in their life. But he’s so, so excited that here they are, this wonderful person who actively enjoys the company of these creatures as much as he does! It gives him this almost kind of inner peace knowing that they chose him. There’s someone out there, right here, who thinks in a way that he does, likes some of the things he likes, someone who would rather be with him and his snakes than with someone ‘normal’. He’s just so happy they all found each other, and he takes every opportunity to remind them that this is his dream come true.

#Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Charles Grey #Cheslock #Gregory #Gregory Violet #Joanne #Joanne Harcourt #Snake #headcanons #romantic #fluff #drama #drama oNLY IN THE CASE OF GREY THE BUTT!! #this is SO WHOLESOME #one hell of a queue

[walmart-sekai]

Okay I finished Leo/Need. Final thoughts below the break.

Stuff I liked:

It feels very realistic.

I mean not the part about hatsune miku taking you to a pocket dimension created by your feelings, but like. I remember being a lonely teenage girl and, in many ways, Leo/Need captures that experience very well. The conflicts, the characterizations, and (with a few exceptions) the dialogue all feel very familiar.

The end wraps things up nicely.

There are some Project SEKAI stories (cough VIVID Bad cough) where the end feels a little rushed or anticlimactic, like the writers were fighting against that 20 episode format.

Leo/Need, on the other hand, felt very satisfying to finish. The band is back together, Honami has come clean to her other friends, Ichika told the others she and Saki have written their first song. They’ve tied up the loose threads while still leaving a lot to be explored in event and side stories. It’s very “the end of this chapter, the beginning of the journey,” vibes.

Saki’s fucking fantastic.

I love, love, love Saki. Her design, her characterization, her motivation is everything to me. The other characters I needed a bit to warm up to, but they do a very good job of making Saki bubbly, energetic, and endearing from beginning to end. She was, hands down, my favorite thing about this story.

Stuff I did not love:

It feels very realistic.

“But Walmart, you said you liked the realism! Why would it be a pro AND a con?” Well gimme a fuckin second here, let me explain.

Leo/Need is very true to the depressed teenager experience. There is miscommunication, there is weird, illogical snap decisions, there’s jumping to conclusions. It’s true to life—but that doesn’t mean it’s interesting.

For many of us, myself included, being a teenager was/is frustrating. It’s confusing, and lonely, and honestly, very annoying. It was annoying to live through and as much as I hate to say it, it was annoying to read.

There is no conflict.

The opening of Leo/Need sets you up to think these characters have had some huge fight. It’s heavily implied that Ichika in particular said something to piss Honamori and Shiho off. This would explain why she’s so hesitant to tell Saki what happened, because she doesn’t want her friend to see her as the villain.

The problem is, nothing happened.

There was no fight. There was no huge, explosive event. There was just three teenagers miss-communicating. This is supposed to be a twist, but it reads like a cop-out. It’s boring.

Again, this isn’t unrealistic—I’ve seen friendships fall apart over miscommunications and good intentions like this, especially when I was younger. It happens in real life all the time.

It’s realistic. But that doesn’t mean it’s compelling storytelling.

Saki’s fucking fantastic.

“Wait, you already did this one too, why did you put two things in both pro and con—“ shut up, it’s my list.

Saki’s great. She’s interesting, she’s multi-faceted, she has an in depth backstory.

Her returning to school is the catalyst for the entire story. I’m nearly every episode, her actions are what drive the narrative forward.

So why isn’t she the main character?

Reading from Ichika’s POV gives us a lot of flashbacks from when Saki was gone, but since the conflict is basically nonexistent, these flashbacks are arguably unnecessary.

Imagine this story reframed from Saki’s POV. Imagine hearing her inner monologue when Honamori and Shiho brush her off when she gets to school. Imagine her practicing that song to impress Shiho, knowing she’s pushing herself too hard, but thinking getting her friends back together is more important.

Imagine getting this sinking feeling in your gut knowing she’s going to push herself too far, knowing somethings going to happen. Then imagine that scene where she collapses from fever while they’re playing hitting that much harder, because you’d been dreading that moment happening.

Cool, did you imagine it? Did it make you feel stuff? Did it feel compelling and heartbreaking?

Cool, so I ask you again, why didn’t we get that?

Final thoughts:

Overall, I enjoyed this story. Really, I did.

Is it my favorite PJSK main story? No. Do I have a lot of criticisms of it? Yes.

But I like it. I like Saki, especially. And I think with the way the last few episodes wrapped up, I’ll enjoy the event stories a lot.

So yeah. If Leo/Need is your favorite, I definitely see the appeal, no disrespect at all. I didn’t come here to start shit, just sharing my thoughts.

#really though I did like it #it’s just definitely not my favorite is all #leo/need #final thoughts #pjsk #live tweeting #saki tenma #project sekai

[002yb]

On days like today, there’s no hiding the pep in his step.  Nothing particularly amazing has happened; there’s no reason for him to be so damn bouncy and giddy, but fuck is he.  It’s just–Dick and him are out and about.  In broad daylight.  Hanging out.

Not that they haven’t hung out before, but there’s something different about it now.  The rest of the team isn’t here, for starters.  They’re not cooped up in the controlled safety of the tower; they’re not stifled by any required professionalism while on patrol.  It’s just them:  Dick and Jason, two Robins about town.

And what’s better?  Dick is in a good mood.  Relatively.  He’s not as chipper as Jason, but he seems relaxed and that counts for something.  Compared to where they started back when Dick was a well of self-hatred, doom and gloom, well.  Dick is fucking exuberant now.  Downright vibrant.

The picture Jason sneaks of them on their walk into the city doesn’t show said zippiness, but it’s proof enough that Dick is being a person again–the profile of Dick’s resting bitch face be damned.  It’s a picture Jason sends off to Bruce, equal parts encouragement for Bruce to embrace life’s pleasurable mundanities, too, as well as to reassure him that Dick is okay.

The singular smiley face he receives in reply makes Jason smile to himself.  Dork, he thinks to himself, but he’s endeared all the same.  ‘Grocery shopping,’ Jason texts back.  It’s followed by their usual song and dance of Bruce asking if they’re both doing well and Jason telling Bruce to just call Dick and ask if he’s worried–just don’t pick a fight and don’t offer his two cents if it isn’t asked for.  A quip is made about how Jason might be welcome to at least two cents to help pay for their groceries, if he wants to ask.  The sass pulls a quiet laugh out of him.  When Dick looks over at him, gaze drifting from his own phone, it doesn’t take much convincing to get him to (affectionately) flip Bruce off with him.

“You check in with him often?” Dick asks, curious.

“More like I check on him.” Jason corrects, sending the picture off with a sarcastically added heart.

A strangled sort of silence follows.  It seems like Dick wants to ask something in particular, but can’t find the words for it.  Instead he returns his attention back to whoever he’s been texting, aims for casualness and misses by a mile when he asks, “He fine?”

“You two are something else.” Jason snickers to himself, then looks up at Dick with an ornery smirk, “If you’re worried about him, you should just call him.”

Dick’s resting bitch face becomes more of an active bitch face–a sulky pout and an indignant grunt because Dick ‘isn’t worried.’  Jason rolls his eyes at the dramatics and shoots off a text to Bruce about how the sour apple Bruce picked up didn’t fall far from the Wayne orchard.  The smiling emoji that comes through in reply still makes Jason smile to himself; as does the two cents Bruce transfers him.  Asshole.

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Ahhhhhh this story is so near and dear to my heart.  Thought I finished with it about a year ago, but nope.  I’m back at it LOL.

#dickjay #jaydick #dick grayson #jason todd #fic