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cosmo-the-overseer · 4 months

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Gender/sexuality struggles below I’m pondering the Frivolities again and it’s not going well I’m inscrutable even to myself

it’s long be warned

What is gender. What does it feel like to yall

same goes with attraction

Cause like. I’m not sure if I’m feeling it

I know that I like women more than men but like. It’s in a way that I’ll see a guy everyone is calling hot or attractive or handsome and it’s like. Wow that sure is a guy. He looks. Neat. I guess? Idk and then I’ll see a woman who everyone is calling beautiful or hot or attractive and I’ll say something like wow she looks very pretty :) and I’ll see someone androgynous or something and I’ll be like wow they look so cool and. Idon’t know what I am anymore? And also I’ve never had a crush??? So no help from myself there and with gender it’s. ????? Not there????? i want to look androgynous or slightly more masculine and fuck up what people think of me as, but yet I try to ask myself what gender I am I come up with nothing. I’m used to being female, but it feels flimsy or nonexistent. and so does being male. And yet I feel too gender to be non binary and yet I also am not gendering???? And yet I still typically go by she/her??? But also not????? Smh my head I’m getting confused over the trivial again 😔

in conclusion I think I’ve just written a better paragraph than what I’ve ever written in English class with the whole 2 points of evidence and stuff and yet it’s still disappointingly mid smh my head😔 anyways this has been my tri-yearly identity crisis- gender edition! Am I aroace? Am I gay? Am I agender? Am I cis? Who the fuck knows! Certainly not me!

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tiffdawg · 4 years

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Shift This Weight | Javier Peña x Reader

Gif: @bestintheparsec

Series: Confessions | Part 1 of 3

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem;no y/n)

Word Count: 1.8k

Rating: E | Warnings: Angst. NSFW - smut, oral (male receiving), sexual language, mild cursing. 18+ only.

A/N: I set out to write some soft!Javi, but this ended up kinda sad and much smuttier than I originally intended. This is going to be a three-part series I’ll be posting over the next week or so and I promise you, soft Javi is coming after this. I suppose a little angst is unavoidable when Javi’s in love. smh.

My Masterlist

Read on AO3

... . ...

Shift This Weight

You’d known Javier Peña for years. Your stints at Quantico had overlapped however briefly, but it was more than enough time to strike up a casual flirtation with no expectations.

While it never amounted to anything, you’d enjoyed his game of cat and mouse in between classes and training sessions in the weeks leading up to your graduation and subsequent departure. You’d been assigned to a post as a field agent on the other side of the country, and, you jumped at the rare opportunity, more than eager to prove yourself.

Looking back, you realized the two of you never said a proper goodbye. There was just that one stolen kiss and a softly muttered congratulations in a deserted hallway after your commencement ceremony. You felt the brush of lips against yours even days later as you boarded a plane bound for Los Angeles, one-way ticket in hand. You’d thought you’d never see him again, but perhaps you some small part of you knew even then it wouldn’t be the last you crossed paths with the young hotshot from Texas.

… . ...

The City of Angels was good to you. The ridiculous traffic was a small price to pay for the gorgeous weather and endless coastline and despite a few missteps at the beginning you settled nicely into your new role as a DEA agent. But even though work was steady and you had a close circle of friends, you couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. When you were offered a position at the US embassy in Colombia, you shocked everyone, yourself included, when you took the position without a moment’s hesitation.

You were only half surprised when you walked into the embassy building on your first official day and crashed right into Javier, literally colliding with the man from your past as you scrambled to find your new office.

“I heard you might be coming down,” he said with a smirk and without missing a beat, “Happy to see the rumors were true.”

You couldn’t help but return the smile, happy to find a familiar face amongst unfamiliar surroundings. You were both older and it showed; you could see it etched into his handsome features, felt it in your tired bones. The realities of the job had worn down the bright-eyed kids you were at the academy into hardened agents.

“Happy to be here, Agent Peña,” you shot back with a wink, suddenly feeling much more confident despite your disorientation.

“Follow me, chiquita.”

How could you resist?

… . ...

Javier resumed his flirting with you as if no time had passed, as if you weren’t his colleague and partner, as if he wasn’t sleeping with half the available women in Bogota. You played along with his game even as you felt your feelings for the man blossom into something new and dangerous.

Still, the professional in you had managed to hold yourself together well enough. At least you did until everything came to an unavoidable crescendo one fateful night almost a year after your arrival in Colombia. You’d had a frightfully close call during a raid on some low-level sicarios hiding out in Medellin. The kind of near miss that made your whole past flash before your eyes and made you rethink your present and future.

Javi was standing close to you, the rise and fall of his chest matching yours as you both fought to steady your breathing post-shoot out. He scanned you for injuries with his deep brown eyes, closely inspecting the cut on your cheek with a gentle prodding fingertip. He was remarkably unscathed save for the mental scarring of narrowly missing a bullet meant for his skull.

You weren’t sure whether it was the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins or the thought of him almost dying that propelled you forward as you cupped his face between your still shaking hands and kissed him. It wasn’t some chaste, teasing peck like before. It was a needy, messy melding of mouths. He reciprocated immediately and eagerly, pulling you flush against him despite the awkwardness of your bullet proof vests. It was everything you didn’t know you’d been waiting for all those years.

... . ...

A few months later, you found yourself sitting in a dimly lit bar not far from the embassy. That day had been stressful, to say the very least. Murphy, ever the optimist, at least when compared to Peña’s special brand of skepticism, had suggested drinks after leaving the office, inviting both you and Javier. While your illicit office romance was still very much a secret, Murphy definitely knew. Javi wasn’t shy about undressing you with his eyes from his desk across from yours, especially now that he knew what was underneath your pantsuits, and your witty remarks to his advances held a lot less bite than they did before.

You tried but failed to drown your frustrations with tequila and polite conversation with Steve and Connie, but by your third drink it was clear you needed something stronger. And from the way Javier’s dark eyes found yours over the rim of his glass and across the bar top, he shared your sentiment.

If you couldn’t drink away your problems, maybe you could fuck them out of your system.

Which is how you ended up back at your apartment an hour later, stark naked and straddling Javier’s lap as you rode him as fast and hard as your shaking legs would allow.

The closer you got to your climax, the more your steady rhythm faltered. “Hey, I got you, hermosa,” he said, and your eyes snapped open. He started to thrust up, taking over for you. “Touch yourself. Cum all over this cock.”

Your fingers found your clit, just as he’d told you to, and with a few well-timed strokes you were coming hard, unraveling on top of him. Your body went completely limp, with only his hands, one on your hip and the other grabbing at your breast, to hold you upright. You felt yourself clenching around his thick length as you rode out your orgasm and he spat out a string of intelligible curses in Spanish.

“Where? Where, baby?” he said through gritted teeth.

You released yourself from his grasp and knelt between his legs, taking him into your mouth completely. A few more errant thrusts and you were swallowing around him, taking every drop he gave you. When you pulled off, you opened your mouth to show him it was all gone.

“Fuck you’re perfect,” he mumbled, taking your face between his hands and kissing you obscenely. He pulled you back up his body, never breaking the kiss, to lay next to him. You giggled as he continued to kiss you through ragged breaths while he came down from his own release. His greedy hands still roamed your body, kneading the soft flesh of your thighs and ass. “So fucking perfect, hermosa.”

You smiled into his kiss, basking in the afterglow and feeling something akin to actual happiness. Something you’d long thought was out of reach for someone in your line of work. Everything just felt better with Javi. He made your life better, made you better. Even when the world seemed to be crashing down around you. Even when catching Escobar seemed like an impossible task.

You wanted to come home to this, to him, every damn day and he deserved to know just how much he meant to you after all these years. Those very words were overwhelming you, begging to be spoken into existence.

“I’m in love with you,” you said against his lips. You felt him still beneath you and you pulled away just enough to look him in the eye, wanting him to see that you truly mean what you were saying. You needed him to know it wasn’t some post-orgasmic slip of the tongue. It was real. “You don’t have to say it back. I know you probably don’t even want to hear it, I just- I needed to tell you. It was suffocating me not to tell you. I love you, Javi.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t so much as blink. Usually you could read him easily, his ever-expressive eyes always betrayed his emotions, but that night his face gave nothing away. The only indication that he heard you and was contemplating your words was the gnashing of his jaw as he ground his teeth.

Finally, he placed a firm hand on your cheek, bringing you closer so he could press his lips to your temple. He forwent his usual cigarette to lay with you, settling you firmly against his chest.

His reaction startled you; it certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. You doubted he felt the same, and part of you thought he might run out of the apartment or even throw a few curses your way for shattering what was supposed to be a casual arrangement. His silence and the way he cradled you to his chest was more than a little confusing.

Eventually your racing thoughts lulled, and you started to drift off to sleep, allowing yourself to fantasize that he might stay the whole night with you. That you might at least get the luxury of waking up next to him in the morning, warm golden sunlight streaming in through your thin curtains to bathe his tanned skin like you’d always imagined.

Instead, he slipped out from beneath your sheets, gathered his clothes strewn about your room, and quietly left.

You laid there for a while after that, stomach turning as you watched the red numbers of your alarm clock rise steadily, signaling the coming dawn, and you replayed the night in your mind. You didn’t regret what you said. No, you’d learned from your past heartbreaks that being open and vulnerable was the only way to be true to yourself. As hard as that was sometimes. You knew you were taking things in a direction he never wanted to go, but it was stifling to remain standing at the proverbial crossroads of loving him silently or never speaking your truth. It was a relief to say those three little, weighty words out loud. Still, you wracked your brain trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind his actions. He hadn’t said another word the rest of the night, but he’d stayed.

Until he hadn’t. In the end he left you without so much as a goodbye. As you frustratedly buried your face into your pillow and willed yourself to fall asleep, you wondered if that was the last night you’d ever spend with him, if your confession would drive him away forever.

... . ...

Spanish Translations

Chiquita: little girl

Hermosa: beautiful

… . ...

Thanks for reading!

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos fanfic #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña fanfiction #my fic #my writting #fic: confessions

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margarittet · 6 years

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Sam “Men of Words” Winchester supporting his brother Dean “I struggle with words” Winchester.

This is a theme this season. Dean (and Sam, Cas) vs communication. (Actually, it started last season.)

Dean constantly confuses “we” with “I”, mixes “need” with “want” and “love”, gets the words wrong (it’s pronounced ca-pi-chu-lum, Dean!), and is in pain even thinking about books (“aka the written word”), but he has no problems analyzing facts and reports, and pictures, and data, and numbers and everything else.

Dean uses post it notes (aka a tool of communication, albeit simple communication), but turns them into a joke, puts them where Sam can’t read them, and in the end dismisses them for the sake of yet another mission at hand. Dean uses funny words like dum dum, or jinkies, or “whack”, but he has problems pronouncing French or Latin (aka “serious words”). In the meantime Sam and Cas (who speaks every language possible and “doesn’t get the words wrong”) are on the other side, waiting for Dean to catch up - to start using his words correctly and without struggle. Cas is pissy because he asks questions, but gets bullshit answers. Sam is supportive, but he feels there is so much Dean is not sharing or struggles to share (”I don’t know what you are!”). Dean is in pain because he can’t get the words right. He is definitely not a part of a “speakeasy”, as Sandy put it. In the beginning of the episode he is pretty overwhelmed by the need to find the right words (in the books), and that’s why he hates them so much at the moment.

So many methaphors for communication problems in this episode (13x17):

- previously mentioned post-its that Sam cannot read unless he REALLY tries (and somehow he doesn’t figure out that removing a layer of clothing would actually help the communication here - smart, since the fifteen layers of flannel have always been a symbol for hiding oneself);

- Sandy is both gagged and not gagged in the cold open (she is gagged in every second frame), so she either can’t speak at all or screams in fear;

- Dean is practically overwhelmed by the amount of books around him (they are EVERYWHERE, in the war room, in the kitchen, in the archives, in the corridors, in the other bunker’s office...) in the beginning, before he finds a case (aka Sandy chained to the alter) that removes the pressure to work with words for now - and the books magically disappear (they are even gone from the war room when they come back to the bunker while in the beginning Sam sleeps there surrounded by them);

- when the boys explain the future to Sandy, Dean shows her his car (aka his mean of transportation, of moving, of acting), while Sam shows her his phone - his way of communicating with the world;

- the other MoLs attack and kidnap first, ask questions later (literally), which is such a sign for bad communication skills. They are hooded and silent the whole first time the boys meet them! If only they started by talking to one of the guys, for example on his way to the bathroom - since once they kidnap Sam all they do is TALK TO HIM, not hurt him - the whole case could go so much smoother and fewer people would die;

- the older waitress talks to herself, and in the end compliments Marco for being such a great conversationalist (”You always make me laugh!”), even though he doesn’t say a word;

- the younger waitress, Amy, is obviously happy with the attention given her by the young boy, Buck, but she still doesn’t give him a clear “yes” or “no” - until later in the episode when she does indeed say yes, and agrees to go out with him (but he dies to protect her and she is left behind, alone)(what a tragic love story!)(like a Hallmark movie!)(foreshadowing? what foreshadowing?!)(smh);

- there is not-so-subtle-storytelling, and there is Dean Winchester chained to an undergound altar to be sacrificed to become the male-half of a (het) romantic couple, and when he tries to protest his voice is literally taken away, until he liberates himself, kills the monster, and can speak again/breathe again. Yeah, mr Perez. Subtle. (Almost as subtle as the story of two lovers separated by the rift, or the person being stabbed from behind, through the chest, by the bad guy/girl in front of Dean to trigger his trauma);

- speaking of being gagged/voices being taken away - Gabriel is mute the whole time he is on screen, his lips physically sewn together, and even when Sam cuts the threads, and Gabe is able to open his mouth, he is still unable to share his experience due to the years of abuse, being locked away and forced to be silent. Again, subtle;

- there is A LOT of focus being put on asking questions/getting answers. Asmodeus doesn’t get information because he doesn’t ask. Ketch asks again and again (a nice huge Cas mirror that he is in this episode) why he was called, why he is there, what does Asmodeus want from him, what is the nature of their relationship; one of the post-its on Sam’s back says “I’m stupid - ask me!”. Dean pronounces in front of Capitulum VII - “You ask questions, you get answers.” I hope soon he will give people around him the honest answers, because so far he is trying to avoid it at all cost;

- speaking of honest - everyone is surprisingly sincere in this episode, and I hope it’s a foreshadowing for the better communication from now on. People who asked questions, got answers, and that’s great. Dean is trying while still struggling, but it seems the general idea is that he is getting better, and he has Sam’s support;

- even Sandy questions WHY they are not more willing to discuss her newfound existence - why don’t they ask questions? Why are they not more surprised? Sam starts asking questions then - simple, basic questions - and he finds stuff out while Dean has no interest in talking to Sandy about her misfortune (words vs not using his words again). I would also like to point out that Sandy seems to have all the memories of her vessel - unless she made everything up which I doubt. I wonder if it will be important in the future;

- also, when the attack on the diner (aptly named Krispy’s, with a K instead of C) happens, all the phones are dead, including the landline. All the means of communication are dead for now, and Dean has no ways to communicate with Sam, and he turns to violence - preparing Molotov’s coctails that he never actually uses. Sam on the other hand, who TALKS with the MoLs, manages to regain control over the situation, using HIS WORDS, and not force;

- Sandy dies when her mouth (and her screams) is shut again by Yokoth’s tentacle. While in her body, the god kills people by sucking their hearts out, and their souls dry with a deadly tentacle shooting out of her mouth (nice visual there!).

Miscommunication has been Davy Perez’ pet theme since 12x12 when the whole thing started - Cas using his words, and Dean staying silent. We are over a year later, and Dean got better, but these words still need to come out. In 12x15 Davy made sure to show us that not using your words gets people killed (and for sure it did get Cas killed in the finale of s12). BTW, 13x12, 13x14 and 13x17 have a lot in common, and it’s really interesting to do a little compare and contrast with these three episodes - Yokoth, Glythur and Perez together again, maybe I will (ten)tackle it some other time. They are showing us that asking questions is the way to go because (eventually) you will get your answer. We have seen how since 13x06 Cas has wanted to know why he was brought back, but the answers he got were misleading at best - so he got to the wrong conclusions, and the whole merry-go-round of Cas feeling not loved and leaving started again. BECAUSE DEAN PAL-ZONED AND NEED-ZONED HIM AGAIN DUE TO HIS INTERNALIZED COMMUNICATION ISSUES. The season needs to end with Dean vocalizing how he feels - he has been making such a huge progress that I can’t see it go any other way. However, I fully expect that once he does say out loud what has been sitting inside him for years (to Cas and to Sam as well), the universe will go “oh no you didn’t!”, and will interfere with the force of a raging cosmic entity (or a raging archangel). And we will have new issues on the table. Tragic. You know - like a Hallmark movie.

#Dean meta #communication issues #spn 13x17 #dean winchester #sam winchester #destiel #kinda #but for blacklisting I will tag it #the thing

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