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catboyfics · 8 months

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so uh- i wanted to ask if you could write for male reader x Jinwoo where the reader likes his shadows more than him (or anyone)

they are his children now.

Favoritism

Hi!! Ofc, that sounds so funny! I'm writing it as a pre-established relationship where reader n jinwoo are dating but jinwoo goes away so much that reader mostly hangs out with his shadows. hope you enjoy <3

𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

𝑭𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴: Solo Leveling

𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮: Sung Jinwoo x m!reader

𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬 & 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: fluff, crack; male reader; disgustingly sweet, beru calls reader papa

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑺: 1.8k

"Hey, Jinwoo, where's Beru?" You asked, brows furrowing. Usually, Beru would hang out with you, but now he was missing. The man across from you sighed, bringing his hand to his forehead.

"I sent him out on some errands, nothing important." He said, shaking his head slowly. "How come you always notice when they're here or not?"

You didn't exactly know. You could, in a way, feel their presence. You could feel their eyes watching you, and you just knew when they were around. It wasn't exactly their power, or their otherworldly traits. It was more like that feeling of missing a close friend.

You just shrugged, not bothered enough to think of a proper answer to Jinwoo's question. He only sighed, shaking his head from side to side at your dismissiveness. You loved him, you found him funny. He was your boyfriend, after all. But he was away so much that you ended up closer to his shadows than to him himself.

"It feels like you send all your shadows out whenever we're together." You complain, laying back on the couch and slinging your legs over the arm rest. "I know we're dating, but we could at least watch k-dramas with Beru."

He sighed again (it felt like all he was doing was sighing), looking at you with some are-you-serious look. You chuckled. You did enjoy spending time with your boyfriend, but his shadows were great fun.

"I'm just joking, darling." You say reassuringly, receiving a tired smile from Jinwoo. "It's just that you're always away, and I get worried about you. I need a distraction."

The man across from you stood up, getting up from his comfortable spot in the armchair, and made his way to you. Seeing his movements, you sat up, sitting right on the edge of the couch and leaning against the arm rest. He sat down and you shuffled over to him leaning into his side.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly, left arm wrapping around your shoulders as your fingers intertwined. You nodded quietly into his shoulder. It was true. You did worry. You worried a lot about him. He was singlehandedly carrying the world on his shoulders.

"We should go on a date sometime." You say, trying to restore the playful mood from earlier. He nodded enthusiastically, looking at you expectantly as he remained silent. After waiting for a while without you saying anything, he asked the question that had been lingering in his mind.

"Where do you wanna go?" You weren't completely sure, but you had the free time to go wherever you wanted whenever. On the other hand, he was the one who was always busy.

"You should choose. You rarely have free time, so let me treat you for once." You said kindly, smiling up at him as you leaned on his shoulder. You liked this. You liked this a lot.

Jinwoo didn't seem to have an answer immediately, so you took advantage of that. "Oh, we should have a movie night at some point with your shadows. It's like we're a big family!" You said with a big grin. Jinwoo wasn't particularly fond of the idea, and you could tell by the slight grimace on his face, but he would do it for you.

He nodded, sighing as he looked down at his lap, then at you fondly. You felt warmth blossom in your chest as you smiled back at him, squeezing his hand as a little message, chuckling when he squeezed back. He was, really, a very beautiful man. You almost felt out of breath just looking at him. You felt so special to be able to hold him in your arms.

"We'll, lets have that movie night tonight and we can go on our date tomorrow. I can put my duties as a hunter on hold for a little bit." He said eventually, letting his head fall into his hand in defeat. You grinned wide, thanking him profusely as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He turned to you quickly, eyes wide before grinning himself. From your peripheral, you could see his hands crawling towards your waist and you looked down. Unfortunately, you weren't fast enough, and his tickle attack had begun. You threw yourself back on the couch, somewhere between laughing and crying as his fingers ghosted evilly over your waist, making your abs clench desperately.

You struggled to get words out from between your helpless spurts of laughter, begging him to stop and jokingly pushing him away. When he finally relented, giving you space to breath, your face was flushed red and you were smiling so wide it hurt.

He laughed to himself before coughing into his fist, summoning his shadows back. You could see his eyes glow purple for a second before you heard a cry from behind the sofa.

"Papa!" The ant shadow cried, and your face flushed red as you realized Jinwoo didn't know about your new nickname. He looked at you like you were an alien, and you sputtered into a closed fist, trying desperately to form words. It took a second to compose yourself, but you eventually spoke.

"Uhm, Beru started calling me papa since he saw a little boy calling his dad papa..." You trailed off, looking desperately at Beru for help. He was of no help, evidently, and you sighed to yourself before continuing. "He decided that I took care of him like the dad took care of the little boy, and that he should call me papa from now on."

You could see Jinwoo's shoulders trembling as he tried to hold in a laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth as tears gathered in his eyes. He was like that for a bit, making you pout, but eventually you gave into the laughter yourself. You had no idea how long you were laughing together, but by the end of it your abs hurt like never before.

"No wonder you called it a family movie night." Your boyfriend laughed evilly, cheeks inflated like balloons. Your face felt hot, but you weren't ashamed of it. You did cross your arms, though, looking sternly at the hunter sitting next to you.

Suddenly, there was a weight on the sofa next to you, and you looked over to see Beru had sat down with you. You didn't quite understand why he had weight in the first place, but it wasn't your place to question it.

You turned to him, asking what he wanted to watch but knowing the answer already. You weren't at all surprised when he said "Historical K-drama." You sighed, shaking your head before coming up with an idea.

"We should watch a horror movie!" You exclaimed, looking excitedly at Jinwoo. He wasn't a huge fan of horror movies, but he couldn't say no to your enthusiasm and nodded slowly. He grabbed the TV controller from the end table on his side of the couch and clicked the power button. You watched the TV light up, seeing him click on Prime video and snatching the controller enthusiastically from his hands.

You typed in the letters, "c-o-r-a-l-i", until the movie you were looking for popped up. You grinned evilly at Jinwoo, looking over to Beru and seeing tears gathering in his eyes. He was a crybaby, but you loved him like a son, and you felt pity swirl in your chest. You just wrapped an arm around his shoulder and clicked on the movie.

You loved this movie, but you had to admit, it was pretty scary. Jinwoo was rarely fazed by scary stuff, what he saw as a hunter was much worse, but you were expecting Beru to start sobbing into your shoulder. You smiled as the movie played out and Beru started to relax, not finding the beginning scary.

That was the trick of Coraline, though. Everything seemed perfect, until it wasn't. You had to admit that you struggled a bit the first time you saw the movie. It was... disturbing. But it was also what got you into horror movies, so it held a special place in your heart.

The movie progressed, and you and Jinwoo were completely fine. You could already see Beru's shoulders trembling, though, and you struggled to hold in your laugh when he looked at you with teary eyes. It was around the middle of the movie when the floodgates opened, and Beru started sobbing uncontrollably into your shirt. You didn't fail to notice the glanced he was sneaking at the TV, though.

You got through Coraline with surprisingly little trouble, but Beru wasn't happy by the end of it. He was whining like a toddler, and it really made him look like a kid. It blew your mind that he was Jinwoo's most formidable shadow soldier.

"Papa, why did you make me watch that?" He asked, comical tears welling in his eyes as he looked down at you. It felt strange to have him crying at you, despite having to look down. You just smirked evilly as you spoke.

"Character development. You may be physically strong, but you need to be mentally strong!" You explained, though it was more of an excuse to try to get the shadow to try something new.

Beru mumbled something, but you couldn't quite hear it so you ignored it, getting up from the couch as you turned the TV off. You looked down to Jinwoo, sleep in your eyes as you held your hand out to him.

"Hey, I'm tired and it's getting pretty late. Lets go to bed." You declared, smiling as he grabbed your hand and pushed of the sofa, walking with you to your shared bedroom. A few months ago, he had moved out of his Mom's apartment and bought one with you. It was one of the best choices of your life.

You slipped your clothes off, slipping on a loose t-shirt and wearing nothing but your boxers on your legs before walking to the bathroom to brush your teeth. With clean teeth and an empty bladder, you returned to the bedroom and slipped into bed, covering yourself with the duvet. The weight felt comfortable, but there was still something missing. Jinwoo.

Before long, he joined you under the blanket, and you reached out to rest your hand on his cheek. You couldn't help it. He was so beautiful, and god, you loved him so much. He smiled at you. He seemed calm, at peace. You felt very peaceful yourself.

"Jinwoo," you whispered, looking him in the eyes before planting a kiss on his lips. "I love you."

And with that, you let yourself drift off into the sweetest slumber.

I know it's not exactly what you asked for, but i'm really happy with how it turned out! i love writing angst, but something tooth rotting fluff is the key to my heart. Also, I'm sorry it's not as long as some of my other fics :( i really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

Banners from @cafekitsune

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kairiscorner · 9 months

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what are you... wearing? — hobie brown x reader

request: reader wearing the I ❤️ my bf shirt she wears it w pride too ‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️ a/n: and ofc, a hobie ver bc why not (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

you and hobie had pretty opposing aesthetics--for while he usually wore darker colors and more punk-like, bolder clothing; while you were more of the calmer kind, the more pastel and soft kind of aesthetic. though the two of you would always earn unwanted and unsolicited stares from other people you two would pass by, neither of you cared, you two were in love, so what if they wanted to stare? hobie hadn't let that bother him before, he's used to getting stared at, but he was worried about you if you were okay and didn't feel too conscious about these nosy people's stares. you had told hobie before that the stares didn't bother you too much, though you wished other people could just mind their own business.

it had also happened before that people mistakenly thought hobie was your family member or a really close friend, never as your boyfriend. you've had many people approach you and ask you for your number, but you always declined because you already had hobie, but they didn't know that until you cleared it up. it secretly frustrates hobie that not everyone took you two seriously as a couple, hence, you found the perfect solution for that: the very shirt you were wearing with pride as you walked down the sidewalk with him, hand-in-hand. the shirt read: 'i💗 my boyfriend', with a picture of hobie's face in the heart. as other people stared at you two with mixed reactions, you and hobie both smiled widely at them--with hobie also wearing a shirt that read: 'i💗 my partner', with a goofy selfie of you in the heart.

the first time you showed hobie the shirt, he was surprised you put in the effort to put his face inside the heart, with a good picture of him, too. "wow, love, didn't... expect you to have to say it aloud. but y'know what, i love it, i love it more than i love it, if that makes any sense." he says with a flustered chuckle as you giggled with him bashfully. "y'know what, i can't let you hog all the fun." he says as he takes a blank shirt of his and pulls out some spray paints and newspaper clippings. hobie immediately got to work and began to put the same words on his shirt with a few tweaks, designs, and a lot of pictures of you, mainly silly ones you never wanted to upload on your social medias or show to your friends out of fear they might tease you for them, but ones you looked genuinely happy and most beautiful in.

once hobie was done and the paint and glue all dried, you smiled widely out of embarrassment and delight at how adorable the shirt he made that was very you-themed and you-centric; your little compliments had made hobie's smile widen and the fluster in his face get even more obvious as he spoke to you in broken stutters and kept chuckling as you kept giggling and looking up at him with a bright smile. fast forward to now, with you two walking hand-in-hand happily among a crowd of people passing you two by the sidewalks and streets--many of which were staring at you two and whispering, muttering under their breaths how they never would've guessed you two were a couple if not for the shirts--and just enjoying each other's comforting warmth and touch as you two can finally make it known: you're each ther's, nobody else's.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @arachnoia @solecitoszn @conitagray

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown fluff #spider punk #atsv #atsv hobie #atsv fluff #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

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bosbas · 5 months

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Chapter 4: the more that you say, the less I know

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, angst, alluding to sex but no one actually talks about it

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You're struggling to find someone you're as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: ummmm if you saw me change this from OFC to reader insert... no u didn't<3 also me making an f1 reference teehee i couldn't help myself

May 23, 1814 - At yesterday's ball hosted by the illustrious Cowper family, one could not help but notice Miss Cressida Cowper, whose ethereal gown left onlookers in awe. Rumors abound that the delicate fabric, allegedly from the Far East, lent an air of exotic allure to her ensemble. However, the discerning eye might notice a subtle familiarity. A striking resemblance, one might say, to a certain gown worn by Daphne Bridgerton, now Duchess of Hastings, in the previous season. Perhaps the secrets of this so-called rare silk are not as elusive as the Cowpers would have us believe.

Despite the "exotic" nature of Miss Cowper's dress, Miss Y/N Beaumont took center stage in the Cowper's ballroom. Miss Beaumont has seamlessly transitioned from the limelight of debutante to the darling of London society. But last night saw a notable shift in Miss Beaumont's approach to the season. Despite numerous suitors vying for her favor, Y/N spent most of her time in the company of her dear friend, Penelope, and the comforting presence of her mother, Countess Beaumont. Was the ton's selection of gentlemen not up to Miss Beaumont's standards?

A deep sigh left your lips. You crumpled up Lady Whistledown's column and placed it on your bedside table, already feeling a headache coming in. The previous night's ball had been somewhat of a disaster for you, and you were doing well not to think about it too much. You didn't know what was wrong with you. All the boys had been perfect gentlemen, some even making you laugh. Yet, the aftermath of each dance left you feeling disheartened, a sentiment you couldn't easily shake off. At least Lady Whistledown hadn't mentioned that your dance card was populated only with the names of Colin and Anthony Bridgerton. It would have also included your brothers' names had they not been away on some hunting escapade.

Realistically, you knew you should be disappointed that only a handful of hopeful bachelors showed up to see you today, bouquets and poems in tow, but you couldn't quite bring yourself to feel bad. Truthfully, you just missed Ben. He had been gone for about five days now, and you were pretty miserable without him by your side. The gnawing sensation in your stomach, an instinctual search for him in a crowd only to be met with the reality of his absence, had become an inconvenient routine.

Ben was consuming your thoughts. Your best friend had been gone for days at a time before, but this time was different. You missed the sly smiles he sent your way when one of your brothers said something particularly preposterous. You missed his rambling about art while you had your head comfortably in his lap. You missed his small touches, a hand on the small of your back, or a bump of your shoulders when he sensed you needed reassurance. But most of all, you missed having him nearby, feeling the warmth and comfort of his glowing presence. Perhaps with Benedict by your side, you would have navigated the challenges of the ballroom last night more successfully. Surely, he would notice his best friend feeling anxious and uncomfortable, ready with a witty remark to make you smile and dispel your nerves. But he hadn't been there, and you had floundered trying to connect with men who sought different things in a marriage. You were feeling especially tender tonight, a painful mix of anger, disappointment, and frustration plaguing you. You were surprised by how quickly the novelty of your debut had worn off, and you were left with a gaping Benedict Bridgerton-sized hole in your heart.

In your childhood, the two of you dreamed up a future together, one where you could pursue your literary passions, and Ben could lose himself in his art. Those innocent dreams felt like distant echoes now, and how you yearned for the excitement with which you drafted these plans. To you, that was still the perfect partnership. But none of the gentlemen you had met so far shared an even remotely similar vision. A small part of you secretly wished Benedict was ready to marry, or better yet, ready to marry you. But reality dictated otherwise. Benedict had likely moved on, envisioning a new definition of marital bliss, leaving you with an aching heart and a future devoid of prospects.

A particularly unpleasant train of thought came to your mind, and you found yourself wondering how Benedict was coping. Surely the countryside was a more pleasant experience than the stuffy ballrooms of the ton, but as he was out enjoying the fresh air, did his thoughts circle back to you? Did he regret missing your debut? Or were you merely an afterthought in his countryside musings?

A knock on your door interrupted your swirling thoughts, momentarily diverting the chaos within your mind. You smiled upon seeing your mother's soft features peek through the door.

"Hello, Mum. Is everything alright?"

"I believe I should be asking you that, actually," Countess Beaumont replied carefully, making her way over to your bed. Of course, Primrose had noticed the astounding lack of gentleman callers at their home this morning, a phenomenon you couldn't attribute to your elder siblings dissuading potential suitors.

In turn, you were feeling an acute uneasiness. You knew this conversation would come, but you were not prepared in the slightest. Questions about your altered demeanor had you nervously wringing your hands, avoiding your mother's gaze. Sensing her daughter's distress, Primrose sat beside you, holding your hands and gently squeezing them in hers. The comforting gesture stilled you and brought your eyes to finally meet your mother's.

"I apologize; I did not mean to–" you began, then cleared your throat, changing your answer. "When you met Father, you were both completely enamored since the beginning, correct?"

"Well, perhaps not the very beginning. But after one conversation, yes." Prim laughed, remembering her first meeting with her husband.

"Exactly. I just don't think I'll have something like that. And I know you wanted me to find a love match, but for the life of me, I haven't found someone I'm compatible with, let alone someone who wants to have an actual conversation with me!"

Primrose probed further with utmost tenderness in her voice, mindful of your vulnerable state. "Is that what worries you? Not finding someone right away?"

You sensed that your mother hadn't come to reprimand you for turning away almost all eligible bachelors the night before, or at least, that was no longer the primary intention. No longer feeling defensive, you began articulating your tumultuous thoughts.

"Partially. Lady Whistledown has certainly done me no favors. She set the bar up so high that now if I don't find someone incredible or appropriately titled or very quickly, I fear the whole ton will be disappointed. Lady Whistledown will certainly make her disappointment known. But my life is not a plot line to be used for the ton's gossip sheet. At least not to me. As a woman, choosing who to marry is the most crucial choice I can make about my future, and the only one I will be able to make at all if I marry the wrong person."

Your throat was growing impossibly tight, and your headache was worsening as you tried to assuage the rising anxiety deep in your chest. "I am terrified of squandering this opportunity, of choosing the wrong person and ending up miserable and bored, of not being able to find love so soon and disappointing you and Father–" You cut yourself off with a sob, tears freely running down your reddened cheeks now. Your mother held you in her arms, waiting for the tears to subside before offering reassurance.

After a moment, the countess gently broke the silence, "Those are all very reasonable fears. I was your age when I met your father, but before then, I was feeling very similar to you. Granted, there was no Lady Whistledown sheet at the time, but the ton's gossip still spread with astonishing speed. Darling, believe me, there's nothing to fear. It's more than acceptable if you haven't found a suitable match yet. In fact, it's quite expected. Your father and I were unique, but most connections take time to develop."

Although you now felt much calmer, lingering anxieties still circled your mind. "But what if there is no connection? I haven't felt anything at all with anyone I've talked to so far, so how can I build a marriage from that?"

A sympathetic smile grew on your mother's lips. "That's quite alright. If you don't find a match this year, you can try again next season. But consider you and Benedict, for instance. Two completely opposite children were brought together because you were left out when both families got together. Now you're best friends, practically inseparable," she replied.

You looked on thoughtfully, once again losing yourself in thoughts of your childhood promises to Ben. Pushing the painful thoughts away and tucking them into a small corner of your brain, you continued your questioning.

"I suppose. But I truly can't imagine marrying anyone I met at the Cowper's ball or even anyone at Queen Charlotte's ball. And last night, I heard Alex commenting on the 'night of the marriage' like it was some big event, so now there's one more thing I must worry about when looking for a husband."

Prim felt her heartbeat falter, shock and fury coloring her features. "The wedding night? Alex said this to you?" she managed to eke out.

Sensing you had ventured into uncomfortable territory but unsure where, you hastily responded, "No, no, I overheard him talking about it with someone else. I don't even know what the marriage night is or why it's so important."

Prim let out a breath, somewhat calmed. However, relief was short-lived as you probed further into the details of the marriage night. The countess was frozen, unprepared for this topic, especially so early in the season. But her nervous energy only fueled your curiosity.

After a faltering attempt to form a coherent sentence, Prim cleared her throat and tried again. "The marriage night is an... intimate moment between a married couple. If you marry the right man, which I am sure you will, it will be very enjoyable indeed. Fun, even, so it is nothing to worry about."

"But what happens exactly?" you pressed, curiosity undiminished.

With a sense of finality, your mother responded, "Y/N, I know you have a curious mind, but it is too early for you to know the intricacies right now. The night of the marriage is a wonderful thing for a couple to experience, and that is the only thing you need to know. For now, enjoy the butterflies and keep being excited about your season. There is still much to look forward to. Like Alexander said, the men are there to court you, not the other way around. I apologize if I got a bit overexcited initially, but trust that we are all here for you and will support whichever decision you make." And with that, the subject was closed, and you sensed that further inquiries would only irritate your mother instead of answering your endless questions about this new concept.

---

"Ben!" came your delighted squeal from across the Beaumonts' garden, where you had previously been sitting with a book in your lap. Now, you were running at full speed toward your best friend, overjoyed to have him back. The impropriety of your run was momentarily forgotten in the sheer happiness of having him back.

Reaching Benedict, you felt yourself being swept up in a tight hug, the arms around your waist immediately bringing a comfort you had not felt since before Queen Charlotte's ball. He gently placed you back on the ground but couldn't find it in himself to let go of you completely. He placed his hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down and trying to take you in as much as possible.

"You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you. Six days, has it been? And already you're almost as tall as me," Ben teased, a charming smile on his face. He hoped his joking demeanor would mask the overwhelming fondness that surged within him. The countryside had been miserable, to say the least. The arrangements to purchase the cottage had gone relatively smoothly, and he could have returned after barely a day and a half away. But he forced himself to remain in the country, not wanting to potentially infringe on his best friend's debut. Despite the sleepless nights and restless days, he resisted the urge to return. What he did not resist, and in fact plagued his mind constantly, were thoughts about his aforementioned best friend. He constantly thought of you, dancing at a ball with a good-for-nothing bachelor, or being flirted with by prospective husbands, or worse, flirting back. Benedict had erroneously thought that his time away in the countryside might have quelled the dull ache in his chest, having instead the opposite effect. But now that he was here, with you looking radiant as ever standing right in front of him, he felt his mind quiet down, relishing in the comfort brought by your presence.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, your affection for Benedict shining through even when feigning annoyance. "Hmm, well, you seem to have shrunk during your time away. Most peculiar," you retorted, easily falling back into your familiar banter.

The two of you walked side by side toward the far end of the garden, where your open book had been left hastily abandoned in the grass. Though there was constant chatter between you, Benedict very pointedly avoided inquiring about your coming out, opting to let you broach the once-sensitive topic at your own pace. But six days devoid of an eager audience for your literary escapades left you yearning to share your thoughts on the thrilling novel that had consumed every one of your moments outside of ballrooms and entertaining callers. And Benedict was more than happy to listen. Seating himself on the soft grass beside your forgotten book, he listened intently and interjected whenever appropriate.

Eventually, you had talked all there was to talk about a 300-page book and chose instead to lean on Ben as you read aloud to him from your current novel. On his end, Benedict was all too aware of your head on his shoulder, your voice carrying a soothing cadence. It was easy to get lost in it. He realized he would miss moments like these once you were married. Since childhood, you had been reading to him in this garden, and it would all be over by the end of the season. But of course, the dull ache he was feeling was because he would miss you after you wed. No other reason.

You suddenly set your book down, finally ready to talk about the elephant in the room. "I spoke with my mother last night. About marriage and the like," you looked over at Benedict, searching his face for any clue about what he might be feeling. His eyebrows shot up, and he nodded for you to continue talking, eager to listen to what you had to say.

"It was quite wonderful, actually; I think a lot of the pressure I was feeling has been relieved," you said with a smile, and I felt Ben relax next to you. Encouraged by another nod and Benedict's murmur of That's good, you continued, recounting the previous night's conversation with Primrose with great detail, conveniently leaving out the part where your mother had used you and Ben as an example of a good connection formed over time.

"Well, I suppose she's rather right, isn't she? Most of us aren't going to fall in love at first sight. Friendships work that way too; look at us," Benedict remarked, and you couldn't help but internally laugh at the fact that he had brought up your connection on his own.

Maintaining the brisk pace of the conversation, you continued, "Yes, exactly, she also said that. And by then, I had calmed down quite considerably, so I asked her about the marriage night and told her that I didn't know what it was but asked if I should worry about that as well."

Benedict choked, quickly masking it with a cough as he swallowed thickly. The marriage night? How on earth did you know about that? He subtly adjusted his sitting position, nodding at you to continue. "And what did she say to that?" he struggled out.

"She chastised me for even knowing what it was, of course, but I had overheard Alex talking about it, so she can't really be upset with me at that, can she? Anyhow, she refused to tell me what it was," you glanced at Ben, your expression expectant. He chuckled, gesturing for you to continue, resisting the temptation to elaborate. He knew that explanation should come from a mother to a daughter or perhaps from a husband to a wife, but certainly not from him. He still felt his senses heightened, knowing this conversation was going into unexplored, not to mention forbidden, territory between a proper lady such as yourself and a self-proclaimed rake such as himself. He was acutely aware of the proximity of your knee to his leg, and a subtle heat crept up his neck.

Disappointed but undeterred, you pushed on, "Well, she said it was going to be enjoyable. If I choose the right husband, of course. Ben, are you sure you can't tell me? Not even a clue? My mother's response was quite unsatisfactory. What does she mean 'fun'? Why will the marriage night be 'fun'? Does she mean the kind of fun like when I'm playing pall mall? Or the kind of fun when you take me on nature walks at Aubrey Hall? Why will no one talk to me about this?"

Ben was, quite suddenly and very wholly, overtaken by a heat he felt everywhere that was traveling down his stomach. He could sense that you were exasperated, but he needed a moment to recover from you comparing sleeping with someone to something the two of you did. Benedict felt his heartbeat in his ears and couldn't tear his eyes away from your lips, pursed in frustration. Lips that looked awfully kissable, if he were to be completely honest. His breathing quickened, and he was actively fighting the desire he felt for the girl in front of him, keeping his hands rigid by his sides to avoid touching you in the way he wanted to. He groaned internally from both the intensity of the feeling and the effort of holding it back. His mind was elsewhere, in a candlelit room with you in a nightgown or perhaps a towel, but he knew he had to answer in a semi-normal way, if possible. He blinked quickly and met your eyes, narrowed and expectant.

"It's really not my place, Y/N. The countess would kill me twice if she knew I had talked about this with you at all, let alone told you what it was," he answered finally. However, the immediate drop in your expression made him feel awful, and he was desperate to alleviate the frown on your face.

"Alright," he relented, "what your mother said was true; it will most likely be fun, given you marry the right man. And, um..." Ben scrambled to find a delicate way to explain the night of the marriage without risking a duel with Alexander Beaumont. "It's not like Pall Mall," he said after a pause. "It's more like... scratching an itch? It'll feel fulfilling, hopefully."

You put your head in your hands clearly through attempting to get anything out of him. "Scratching an itch? What does that even mean?" you exclaimed.

Ben would've laughed at the scene had he not still been feeling out of sorts from the previous conversation. He was astounded and a little embarrassed that he had had such an intense reaction to the slightest mention of the marriage night. He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to get rid of the thoughts running through his mind. This, he reasoned, was precisely why he was a rake. Evidently, he wasn't ready to marry and needed more time in his rakish ways to get it out of his system. Wiping his brow and eager to redirect his thoughts, he turned to you once again, launching into a detailed explanation of the beautiful countryside landscapes he had seen while away and how he was going to paint them.

---

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

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aquagirl1978 · 2 months

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Uuummm hi , 👋😊. I was wondering if U make like stories on ikemen prince . If u do , can u pls pls pls pls make one on Gilbert being a father🤞🤞.I NEED IT 😩😫 plssssss . Ofc you are not force to . TYsm ❤️👑💋

Thank you @alfonssylvaticasbitch for this very lovely ask - as his route is releasing in EN in just a few hours, I thought it would be fitting to post this today.

Anti-Hero - Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N #1: This is now the third Gilbert as a dad fic I've written and also the third fic I've titled after a Taylor Swift song (I promise I am not a Swiftie!) - make of this what you will.

A/N #2: Happy Route Release Day Gilbert - congratulations, now all your secrets will soon be known.

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader

Prompt: Gilbert as a dad

Word Count: 680

Tags: fluff, no spoilers (other than an appearance by Walter who is just "some guy" in this fic), Gilbert has a daughter

“Here,” the little girl said, placing a toy dragon into Roderich’s hands, “you get to be the dragon today.”

The man wearing a dark hood covering his face stared down at the toy. “Why am I always the dragon?” he muttered.

“Would you rather be the troll?” Walter asked, eyeing the very ugly toy in his hand. “Just go along with it, you don’t want to make him angry.”

Roderich turned his head to see Gilbert seated on a large stone, his little rabbit not far from him.

“Why isn’t he ever the dragon?” Roderich mumbled under his breath. He turned his attention back to the game at hand and moved his dragon to the entrance of the play-castle.

He made loud roaring sounds; the little girl smiled and shrieked, happy to see her friend play along.

“Papa, Papa ! Help me!!!!” she called out frantically. Her arms flailing, she flopped over onto her side, the doll in her hand falling from her fingers. “The dragon…” she gasped, “is coming to get me!”

“Rawr!” Roderich shouted as he moved the dragon closer to the little girl’s doll. He watched as she clutched her heart, sighing dramatically – something her father had done on more than one occasion.

“Papa!” she cried breathlessly. “I need you,” she gasped, “I need my hero to save me!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your daughter’s theatrics – while she inherited your hair and eyes, she inherited her melodramatics from Gilbert.

“Go,” you urged, “she needs you.”

Gilbert looked at his daughter and then back at you. “I’m not a hero,” he said. “Anti-hero, maybe. But I’m the villain…”

His voice trailed off as his focus turned to his daughter. Sprawled out on the floor, she lay still as the mean and scary dragon approached the princess.

You tugged gently on Gilbert’s sleeve, his gaze returning to you. “In her eyes, you are her papa. A great and wonderful man who adores her. In her world, she only knows the good you have done.”

“I have done bad things. Terrible things.” He tilted his head, sadness washing over his face. “And I might do them again.”

“You won't," you replied softly, to which Gilbert huffed a puff of air.

“And you, little rabbit, how do you see me?”

“I see a man with a good heart who loves his family and his country.”

His expression softened, the way he looked at you was so gentle; he couldn't argue with you – there was not a lie in your voice. His rose-red eye wavered as he pulled you into an embrace, his arms circling your waist, squeezing you so tight.

“I wouldn’t survive without you,” he whispered into a kiss placed upon the crown of your hair.

You pressed your cheek into the dark fabric covering his chest, humming your acknowledgment.

“That’s why I’ll never let you leave my side.”

You pulled away, needing to look into his eye when you spoke. “I wouldn't want it any other way.”

He pressed his lips against yours in a rare sign of affection in front of others. Cool against warmth, it was over before it could go any further.

You ran your palms slowly down his arms, your hands slipping into his. “Now go, be her hero.” You let go of his hands, and watched him walk away.

He took a seat on the ground next to his daughter; once she was calmed, Gilbert turned to you. He held out his hands, his fingers curving into a heart as he smiled at you.

Your heart filled with warmth as Gilbert picked up the toy knight and played the part of the hero, slaying the mean dragon and saving the princess. Nothing could have made you happier than when you saw the smile on your daughter’s face.

“Thank you for saving me, papa,” she squealed as he lifted her in the air. “I love you!”

“I love you, too,” you whispered, giving your husband and child a moment together, their laughter so loud and infectious you couldn't help but join in their joy.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381 @judejazza @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia @ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @portrait-ninja @sh0jun

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert #ikemen gilbert #ikemen fanfic #ikepri fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

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judgementdaysunshine · 10 months

Note

damian x reader where he’s all soft for her but acts tough and scary with other people?

Ofc yesss

Gentle giant

Pairing: Damian Priest x Fem reader

Description: Despite how intimidating and terrifying he looks and acts, he is so gentle and sweet with you

You stand in the front of the crowd as you watch your friends, family, and boyfriend do their matches always cheering for the four especially Damian who winked, blew kisses, and even did a salsa for you which made you smile as you caught the last kiss he blew for you. You smile as they walk to you, hugging each of them turning to a blushing giggly mess when you hug damian, yelping when damian lifts you as you hug each other as the others laughs and the crowd is a mix of cheers and boos which both confused you, feeling hurt by the boos as you play it off and hide in his chest until you were all backstage in their locker room, you laugh at dom as he jokes with rhea while damian went to change and shower and finn was getting food from catering, you ended up falling asleep on the couch as the other three talk until they notice you being quiet, smiling when they see you curled up on the couch under a blanket as they quietly talk and walk in anf out of the room, damian walks out and takes a sip of water, stopping with a smile on his face as he gently caresses your face noticing that you were asleep, taking a picture before putting his bag in his car and coming back not to wake you but carrying and placing you in the passenger seat. You wake up the last few minutes before pulling in the driveway, smiling when you feel his big cool hand completely cover your warm one as he parks, you both get up and he lifts you up in his arms before you walk through the door after you yawn and rub your eyes for a second "Sorry baby, the long day and tiredness caught up to me" he shakes his head after he lays you down and turns the tv on, grabbing and handing you clothes while he strips down and lays next to you "You don't need to apologize, we all have days where we just need to rest" you lay your head on his chest after he pulls you to him and wraps his arms around you as the tv plays Lord of the rings in the background, slowly soothing you to sleep along with damian's warmth and heartbeat "I love you amor" you share a kiss as you fall asleep to him massaging your scalp with his fingers "I love you too" he kisses your forehead as he watches the movie until he falls asleep as a different movie starts.

#wwe x reader #damian priest #wwe #damian priest x reader

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psychedelic-ink · 5 months

Text

We Fall Like Snow ║ Part V

series summary: After the events that took place at the Cliff Beasts set, needless to say as his bodyguard (and friend) you became overprotective of Dieter. You have all your worries under control until you accidentally flip over a young fan by grabbing her wrist, causing the media to stir with speculations as to why. Luckily Dieter's family arrives in the nick of time, scooping you both from New York to their cozy cabin; however winter wonderland can't last forever and you need to face the consequences of your actions sooner or later.

pairing: Dieter Bravo x bodyguard!ofc; Amina Addams, written in reader format

chapter summary: Dieter and Everett are in disagreement about what Dieter should do when it comes to his relationship with you. Tension between you and Dieter raises during the masked ball.

word count: 4.7k

chapter warnings: piv, possesive!dieter, rough/angry sex, bathroom sex, dirty talking, a hint of degradation, misunderstandings, mutual pining, mirror sex, hair pulling, biting, angst towards the end

a/n: WELCOME TO THE BRIDGERTON EPISODE! 🤣 this chapter was inspired by @fuckyeahdindjarin 's amazing fic Anachronisms which is Bridgerton themed and I highly encourage everyone to go and read it ❤️ at his point this is just me putting every cliche I like into one series, enjoy!

**dividers by the amazing @saradika

Dieter isn’t a fan of the situation he’s found himself in.

First of all, there’s the matter of you. You confuse him endlessly, your words the complete opposite of what your body is telling him. You behave one way, but speak another. Last night after the phone call, you had no issue with kissing him—Sure, it could be argued that you’d done it due to the mistletoe rules, but Dieter knows you, and if you didn’t want to kiss him you wouldn’t have. But at the same time, you keep acting as if all of this is going to end sometime soon, and that scares the ever-living shit out of him.

He doesn’t want it to end. He’s extremely happy being a part of your personal life; he’s a huge fan of the way you look at him with those big doe eyes, always looking so confused, yet enamored with him at the same time.

Dieter’s not sure how all of this is supposed to work when you go back. It’s easy for him; he’s been living this chaotic lifestyle for a while now, but he knows it’s an issue for you. He’s happy you’ve been distancing yourself from social media because he checked and it’s safe to say you would freak if you saw what people are saying. Most of his fanbase loved you, but an equal number of people didn’t. He knows he really shouldn’t be looking at what people are saying either, but he can’t help himself.

And now, among all this emotional wreckage, he has to wrestle Everett.

He’s been saying no to a match for years, he would’ve said no again if it wasn’t for you and your determination. He still feels the ghost of your body pressed against his when he managed to knock you to the ground; all the blood had rushed to his cock, and you luckily didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re distracted,” Everett says, putting another mat down on the ground. Dieter isn’t sure why they had to do it outside, his mom said it would be easier for all of them. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you,”

Dieter snorts, “As if I need luck,”

Briefly, he sees your silhouette alongside his dad’s through the window. Warmth blossoms in his chest, a soft smile tugging at his heartstrings as his gaze grows soft.

“You seem confident, it’s a good look on you,” he grins. “I guess you’re planning on defeating me with the power of love,”

Dieter’s head snaps back to meet his cousin’s gaze, Everett wiggles his eyebrows and in return, Dieter rolls his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,”

“Please, I see the way you look at her,” Everett gestures to the window ben when Dieter turns back to look you’re not there anymore. “She’s totally into you too, don’t worry,”

“You think so?”

“I wish I had taken a video of the two of you singing, literal sparks were flying in the air. It was magical,”

“Oh, shut up,” he grunts, laying down another mat. “I’m never singing again.”

“So you’re telling me the two of you aren’t dating?”

“Nope.” Dieter hates the way bitterness is heavy in his voice but he can’t just help it. “She’s acting as if everything is going to go back to normal and I don’t think I can do that,”

“Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“She’s not into me that way. It’s just…physical.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Dieter sighs and shakes his head, “No, I have not tried talking to her about it.”

“Why not?”

“Just drop it, Everett. I don’t want to talk about it. She’s just not into me.” Without thinking he adds. “Not everyone is like you,”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just forget it.”

“Forget it?” he shakes his head and crowds Dieter’s space. He’s taller, always has been. “You can’t just say shit and then throw a pity party for yourself. If you have a problem, speak up,”

“Fine,” Dieter hisses out. “Not all of us are perfect like you, okay? Not everyone falls for us in a minute as soon as we open out mouths—”

“God, this again,” Everett steps back, which makes Dieter realize he’d been holding his breath. “Dieter, you’re one of the most famous actors in Hollywood. People love you.”

“The issue isn’t that people don’t love me. The issue is that no one actually cares,”

“We do—I do. Maybe if you’d called more, or at least return my calls, we could’ve talked it out,”

“I have enough people feeling sorry for me. I don’t need you to do the same,”

“Is this why you didn’t come here last year?”

“I was working! Why is that so hard to understand!”

“Is everything alright?”

Both their heads snap towards the voice. It’s you, his mom and dad trailing behind you. You don’t even know what’s happening but you’re eyeing Everett suspiciously as if you’ve already decided that he’s in the wrong. The urge to wrap his arm around you overwhelms him and blood pools underneath his fingernails. He exhales from his mouth and steam curls from between his lips as if he’s inhaled smoke.

“Everything’s fine,” Dieter says, looking away. “We can start the match now.”

Everett and Dieter grapple, their muscles straining as they fight for dominance on the wrestling mat. Beads of sweat drip down their brows, blending with the snowflakes that dance around them.

Dieter's mom and dad sit on the sidelines, their cheers ringing out into the frosty air. Not wanting to pick favorites, they cheer for both of them—Dieter isn’t sure what he feels about that. But at least you have a clear favorite, which makes his heart soar.

You stand at the edge of the mat, your voice joining the chorus of support. "Don't give up, Dieter! You can do it!"

Despite his best efforts, Dieter can't seem to best his cousin. Everett towers over him, his build more muscular and imposing. Dieter struggles to keep up, the snow and sweat-slick beneath his feet. Everett puts Dieter in a headlock, his arms tight around Dieter's neck. Dieter struggles against him, trying to break free.

"You always let opportunities pass you by, Dieter," Everett says, his lips close to Dieter's ear. "You always let the good ones slip through your fingers."

Dieter's body reacts instantly to the anger that flares up inside him. His muscles tense, his heart pounding in his chest. He can feel the heat rising to his face.

“Shut up,” he grunts, drops of sweat falling to the mat. “Shutupshutupshutup—”

Everett’s arms tighten around Dieter’s throat, blocking his air, “You can’t keep running away from yourself. You’re not a kid anymore,”

His words strike a nerve but Dieter feels completely helpless. His chest feels tight, and he can barely breathe as he grips Everett's forearms, trying to break free.

But then Dieter catches a glimpse of you—You’re worried, mouthing ‘you can do it’ even though he’s on the brink of passing out.

Something in your eyes gives him strength, and he finds renewed energy in his limbs. He pushes against Everett with a grunt, flips them both over, laying his weight heavy on top of Everett as he pins his cousin to the mat.

Everett struggles beneath him, but Dieter's training kicks in. He remembers what you taught him and mimics it to his best capability.

He locks Everett's arm in place and applies pressure, using all his strength to hold him down. Everett grunts in pain, his face contorting with the effort to break free. It's no use. Dieter has him pinned, and he knows it. Dieter grins when he speaks.

“Come on, give up,”

“Fine, fine,” he coughs out and slams his hand against the mat. “You win.”

As soon as Everett utters his defeat, Dieter collapses onto the snow-covered ground, his chest heaving with the exertion of the match. He doesn't even feel the chill seeping into his back as he lies there, staring up at the crystal blue sky above.

But then, your face comes into view, and the world becomes more beautiful. Your eyes are bright with concern as you kneel beside him, your hand gentle on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

Dieter nods, still trying to catch his breath. "I'm fine," he manages to gasp. "Just a little winded."

You smile, and the sight fills Dieter with warmth. He reaches up and takes your hand, holding onto it tightly. He feels his entire family staring at the both and he sees the urge you have to turn to face them. But Dieter squeezes your hand, keeping your gaze focused on him.

“So,” he says. “Do you see me going through a career change? Do I have what it takes to become a bodyguard?”

A chuckle escapes your lips and you grin from ear to ear, “We would need to work on your stance, but I don’t see why not.” you extend your hand and help him up. “Jokes aside, I’m proud of you. You were great,”

“I’ll just lay here then,” Everett groans, raising his hand to the sky. “All alone left to die.”

Dieter swallows down his laughter, “Always the dramatic one,” he says, knowing that he’s usually the dramatic one. “Here, take my hand,”

With a smile Everett takes Dieter's hand and stands up, dusting the snow off his clothes. "Such a good sport," he coos.

"Well, I can't have my favorite cousin laid out in the snow, now can I?"

Adaline and Claus come over and pat Everett on the back. "Don't feel too bad, Everett," Adaline says with a sympathetic smile. "You did your best out there."

"Yeah, and Dieter's just a little bit better," Claus adds with a wink. “I’m impressed!”

“The fact that you’re so shocked worries me a little,” Dieter mutters. “Have a little faith,”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I was sure from the start,” you cut in, stepping between them. “I’m always on your side.”��

"Come on, let's go get some hot cocoa," Adaline says, linking her arm through Everett's. "Besides, we need to get ready for tonight,"

Dieter sees your confusion when you briefly turn to glance at him. He shrugs and watches as you follow the rest of his family inside.

The infamous masked ball.

His mother dragged him to it every year, promising it would be fun— It never was. He already attends similar events left and right, and the last thing that he wants to do on vacation is be forced to smile all night.

But…this time might be different.

He has you now.

You’re sitting on the bed in Dieter’s parent's bedroom. You watch as she rummages through her closet, finally pulling out a garment bag. She unzips it with a flourish, revealing a stunning ball gown.

“Really?” you ask, confusion crossing your face. “You bought this for me?”

“Well, we knew you wouldn’t come here prepared to attend a ball,” she answers with a smile. “I asked Dieter for your measurements and when we went into town yesterday, I went and bought this. Think of it as an early Christmas present,”

The dress is made of soft, lustrous satin in a rich shade of navy blue. The bodice is fitted, with a sweetheart neckline and delicate cap sleeves. The skirt is full and flowing, with layers of tulle and organza that create a sense of volume and movement. The back of the dress is low, with a row of tiny, sparkling buttons running down the center. Your fingertips dance along the fabric, it’s cold to the touch but also incredibly soft.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” you lift your gaze and you see her staring down at you with a softened gaze, she looks so much like Dieter at that moment. “I wish Dieter told me. I didn’t get you guys anything,”

The bed dips as she sits next to you, she places her hand over yours and squeezes.

“You’ve done enough, honey. For the first time, I’m seeing Dieter genuinely happy,” she sighs and shakes her head, her voice cracks when she continues. “Ever since he was a boy, Dieter has carried a bit of sadness in him. I’m not sure what caused it—Maybe we did something wrong, I don’t know. But I’m happy to see that he finally found someone who sees the brilliance in him as we do. He’s a kind boy, probably a bit too kind for the world he lives in currently—It’s good to see that he’s not completely alone,”

“Adaline…”

She raises her hand, her smile everlasting. “You don’t need to say anything, dear. Or explain yourself. I just wanted you to know that we trust you.”

You’re overwhelmed. Your cheeks are warm and you can feel sweat building right above your tailbone. A weight has been placed upon your shoulders and you have no idea how to move —or be you —with this newly added weight. You part your lips to say something, anything to remove the sudden burden but before you can, Adaline rises to her feet and heads for the closet.

“One more thing,” she coos. “And this might be a bit extra, but it’s a masked ball so…” She places a box on your lap, right above the dress, and you stare at her with confusion. “Open it. There are two masks in there, one for Dieter and one for you. We bought them in Venice during our honeymoon,”

“I…I can’t accept this,”

She snorts, and you blink with surprise. “I’m not gifting it to you,” she says, crossing her arms. “You don’t need to get all flustered. It’s a loan, don’t let anything happen to it,”

The humor in her tone forces your stiff body to relax slightly, your head falls forward as you look back down at the box with a smile.

As you lift the lid of the box, you are immediately struck by the beauty of the masks inside. The first mask is black, with a sleek, refined design. The base of the mask is made of shimmering black satin, and there are long, black feathers sticking out from the top. The crown of the mask is adorned with a golden lyre, a musical instrument with a beautiful, ethereal sound. On either side of the lyre, there are two koala bears, holding the neck of the lyre like they would a piece of bamboo. The overall effect is elegant and sophisticated. And adorable.

The second mask is white and gold, with a more simple, yet still elegant design. The base of the mask is made of shimmering white satin, and there are delicate gold filigree patterns etched into the surface. The mask is adorned with sparkling crystal-like stones, which seem to be forming a halo around the edges. The overall effect is like a crystal forest, with trees and branches of light and sparkle. This mask is more romantic than the other.

“Beautiful aren’t they?” Adaline grins. “Don’t get attached,”

You laugh at her words; a wild, curt sound that manages to surprise you. “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’ll be sure to give this to Dieter, thank you.”

You stand outside in the snow, huddled together with Dieter's parents and cousin. You are all dressed in your finest attire, with Dieter's mom wearing a lavish ball gown in a rich shade of red, and his dad looking dapper in a tailored black suit. You’re wearing the dress Adeline had gifted you, and while you’re not used to wearing such fancy clothing, you’re certainly not opposed to it. You feel good, which convinces you that you look good.

The snow is falling gently around you, dusting the ground with a blanket of white. It is beautiful, yet also a bit eerie, with the flakes swirling in the air and the trees creaking in the wind. You shiver a little, despite your warm coat, and you wish that Dieter would hurry up. You smile as you click your tongue; always late, this one.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Dieter emerges from the house, looking resplendent in a long dress jacket that goes all the way to his knees. He’s wearing nice shoes and a white button-up shirt with a bowtie, but despite his polished appearance, his hair is still a mess— which you adore, especially when you remember how those soft locks felt between your fingers, while he was between your legs.

As he approaches, you can't help but feel your heart drop. Your lips part, a soft gasp making its way out in the form of warm steam. Dieter catches your gaze and gives you a small smile that makes you want to topple over and bury your head in the snow. You’re being burned from the inside out, the heat making you completely forget where you are.

“Finally, we can go now,” Everett says, turning smoothly on one heel.

You and Dieter both stand still under the snow, your gazes at each other calculating, assessing what to do next. His eyes move across your body, taking in every detail of your form. A violent shudder overcomes you. Then, without prompting, he offers you his arm.

“You look beautiful,” he says in one exhaled breath.

“So do you.”

The pair of you are suspended in time, your chests heaving breaths in unison. You see white snow decorating his hair and you lean forward to brush the cold away, before you can he touches your fingers and brings your hand to his mouth, lips brushing your skin.

The moment is broken by the loud honk of the car.

You and Dieter enter the luxurious cabin-like venue, and you are struck by its cozy, yet opulent atmosphere. The ballroom is spacious and bright, with walls made entirely of windows that offer breathtaking views of the snowy landscape outside. The decor is a blend of rustic charm and delicate lace, with plush white furnishings, floral patterns, and warm candlelight flickering about.

You look around and see that everyone is dressed in their finest attire. The men are handsome in tailored suits in shades of black and navy, while the women are gracefully adorned in elegant ball gowns of pastel pinks and blues, deep purples and reds, and other rich hues. Everyone with a matching elegant mask. Many of the gowns are adorned with intricate details, adding to the vintage, romantic atmosphere of the ball.

The music is provided by a live orchestra, which plays a harmonious blend of classical pieces and modern hits. As you and Dieter make your way to the bar, Adaline and Claus go to greet friends and Everett seems to be flirting with a charmingly dressed man with brown eyes and hair.

Dieter offers you a glass of wine and you take it with gratitude, the two of you observing the crowd.

“This is a bit more glamorous than I expected,”

“It would be awkward wearing such fancy things if it wasn’t,” Dieter answers, leaning against the wall behind you. “This is why I don’t really like coming to these. They host it every year,”

“Your mom forces you to come, huh?”

“Exactly,” he says with a low chuckle, his eyes dropping down to his glass. “This year is a bit better though. I have you,”

“Oh?” you coo, a smirk stretching across your face. “Are you saying you enjoy my company, Mr. Bravo?”

“Always have,”

As you stand with Dieter, watching the crowd dance and twirl before you, you feel a strange sensation wash over you. Your pinky extends towards him, almost of its own accord, and you feel his own pinky inch closer in response. The warmth of his skin seems to radiate through you, and you can't help but feel a sense of intimacy in this small, unspoken gesture.

You stand there, pinkies curled around each other, not acknowledging the moment but feeling a warmth at the tips of your fingers that spread throughout your bodies. The crowd swirls around you, a blur of color and movement, but all you can focus on is the quiet connection between you and Dieter. The music and laughter fade into the background as you stand there, little fingers entwined, feeling a deep and inexplicable bond with the man by your side. It's a moment that seems to stretch on forever, suspended in time, and you can't help but feel that everything else in the world has melted away, leaving only the two of you in this little bubble of intimacy.

Suddenly, Dieter asks you to dance with him, his voice breathy and heavy, his pupils dilated. You hesitate, feeling a sudden surge of panic. You're not a good dancer, you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. But when you see his eyes locked to your from under the mask, you simply can't deny him.

"Come on," Dieter says, taking your hand and leading you toward the dance floor. "It'll be fun. I'll lead, you just follow my steps."

You follow him out onto the dance floor, your heart pounding in your chest. You feel awkward and out of place, but Dieter's hand on your waist is warm and reassuring.

The music swells around you, a lively waltz that fills the ballroom with its energetic beat. You place your hand on Dieter's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his jacket, and he takes your other hand in his own, his grip strong and sure.

“So, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says, voice barely audible due to the music. “Honestly, it’s kind of stupid but Everett got into my head with it and now I feel like if I don’t say something I’ll miss out on something great,”

You begin to dance, following Dieter's lead as he guides you around the floor. The other couples swirl around you, a blur of color and movement, but you are focused solely on Dieter, on the way he moves with such grace and confidence.

“You can tell me,” you prompt, despite the fact you feel like you probably shouldn’t. Your mouth goes dry when he twirls you.

“It’s…about us.” He’s breathless as he speaks. “I want— I think— Fuck, this is hard..I think we should maybe…try this out,”

“What out?”

“You, me…the devil’s tango?”

“Are you trying to say that we should try being in a relationship?” you ask, bewildered. “No, we can’t. I—I don’t think that’s a good idea,”

“Why not?”

As the music crescendos, Dieter twirls you out and then pulls you back in, your skirts on the floor and your dress swirling around you.

“Because,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath. “Because we work together. Everything is already so complicated, Dieter. This stops when we return home,”

“Fine.”

Dieter dips you low, your dress fanning out around you as you hold the pose. You look up at him but he’s not looking at you. To be honest, you’re surprised he doesn’t drop you. You know that his anger will pass eventually; it has to. You convince yourself that he’s just caught up in the moment—and the sex. And the kissing. You have no idea what Everett told him, but clearly this isn’t Dieter talking.

The music fades away, and he brings you back up, pulling you close as the song ends. You stand there, panting, not knowing what to do. He’s still scowling. Then, out of no where, he takes your hand and drags you out of the ballroom.

You find yourself in the overly lit bathroom, and he locks the door. Your hands are braced against the marble of the sink, the mirror wide and crystal clear in front of you. Before you can say anything, you feel the flush of his body. Dieter traces your neck with his lips, tongue tasting the salt of your skin as his hands roam your body.

“You just want to fuck, don’t you,” he murmurs, his voice eerily emotionless. “I can give you something to fuck. You want me to?”

You see his reflection in the mirror, his lips hovering an inch away from your neck, eyes staring directly into yours. You swallow. You’ve never seen him like this before, the calm before the storm. Your legs are trembling. You’re highly aware of the fact that you need to say no.

But your words betray you.

Dieter consumes you as soon as you give him the okay. He doesn't bother removing the masks, using them as a way to shield what he's feeling. His hands push up your skirt, your ass in full display. He leans down and sinks his teeth into the meat, a growl rattling his throat as you hiss at the sting of his teeth. His tongue doesn’t soothe the pain; instead, he moves his mouth to the other cheek, giving it a similarly harsh bite.

“Gonna fuck you nice and hard,” he grunts, tugging down your panties. “You’re never going to be satisfied after me. Fucking never.”

His fingers move between your folds, a whimper falls from your lips.

“Already wet,” he groans, teeth sinking into the skin between your neck and shoulder. “So, this is really what you want. Not much time to get laid when you’re working all the time, huh?”

Oh god, you’re spiraling. Falling into the depths of his fear and loneliness. His words are coming from a place of pain and weirdly so, his mother’s words echo in your head. But for the life of you, you can’t tell him to stop and talk it out. He feels too good, too much, all at once, but still not enough. You’re his. That’s always been the case in a way, but he doesn’t know that. You can tell what he’s thinking, what he’s trying to convince himself of. It’s your fault. You never should’ve let everything come to this.

The rough drag of his fingers is replaced with his cock. Your back arches, your head falling to his shoulder as he grinds himself against you, the head of his cock brushing against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure washing over you.

"D-Dieter- oh god," you gasp, your mouth filling with saliva. You swallow again and again, trying to form words that die on the tip of your tongue.

There's a sharp tug at your hair, forcing your face towards the mirror. You see Dieter's reflection, hauntingly beautiful, and it’s all you can think about. Your pussy throbs at the promise he makes, and as he keeps your head in place with one hand, the other sneaks up your torso and pulls down the front of your dress. Your breasts spill out from the edges, and he eagerly squeezes the flesh, his fingers pinching your nipples.

He pushes himself deep inside of you, the sound echoing within the bathroom. You moan at the sensation, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Dieter's hands are rough and possessive as he touches you, and you can’t help but respond to it. You're lost in pleasure, completely at his mercy. Your body sings for him, his name falling from your lips repeatedly. Tension coils inside you, your orgasm builds as he thrusts into you, harder and faster.

He breathes heavily into your skin, kissing the back of your neck.

And then, with a cry, you come, your body shaking as Dieter holds you close. It’s quick and sudden. Neither of your expecting for you to come so quick. You're panting and sweating. When you look at him through the reflection, he doesn’t look happy; it almost looks like you’ve proven something he’s always thought to be true.

He pulls out — briefly, you see hunger crossing his face — and he moans, the slick sounds of him fucking his fist reaching your warm ears. You watch, entranced, as his eyes flutter close, his jaw tense. He bites into his bottom lips when he comes, the feeling of something warm and sticky splashing across the small of your back.

Dieter opens his eyes and you meet his gaze through the mirror.

“Dieter—”

“Sorry,” he groans, quickly waving his hand underneath the paper towel dispenser. It feels like sandpaper against your skin. “I’ll go. You don’t need to say anything.”

He throws the balled-up paper towel as he makes his way out. You feel empty — satisfied, but lost. You think whether or not you’ve done the right thing, it feels like you’re on the wrong path.

And all you can think of Adaline’s words:

I’m happy to see that he finally found someone who sees the brilliance in him as we do.

He’s a kind boy, probably a bit too kind for the world he lives in currently.

It’s good to see that he’s not completely alone.

I just wanted you to know that we trust you.

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x fem!oc #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #the bubble fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #christmas fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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lilyofthevalleyys · 6 months

Text

I love Rosekiller and I think I’ll make a fic rec list about it. Enjoy reading!!

Check the reblogs for more fic recs :)

1. any fic by graveryavery

My summary (MS): seriously, they’re amazing at writing. Have your pick of whichever fic.

Link: graveryavery

2. Drunk on Love by amethyst_citrine

status: 1/1

Summary: Evan Rosier has been in love with his best friend for years. He thinks that every time Barty Crouch Jr. flirts with him, it's just an act, making him roll his eyes and walk away. But maybe Evan is drunk, and thinks it's a good idea to stop running.

MS: Rosekiller at a party. Oh, what could go wrong? These two lovebirds are such idiots honestly

Link: Drunk on Love

3. Midnight Rain by blackmojito

status: 1/1

Summary: In the middle of December, in a house that's not his own, Evan learns the true meaning of warmth.

MS: I love their writing style in its short, sweet way. Also fluffy christmas fics? yes please 🤲

Link: Midnight Rain

4. I’m Not Going To Teach Him How To Dance With You by greensenne

status: 18/18

Summary:

“You’d be my best man wouldn’t you, Evs?

There’s an ugly pain burning low in his chest as he says, “Of course. What are friends for?”

Or, Barty's father forces him into an arranged marriage, and Evan is to be his best man. Which would be fine if Evan weren't head over heels in love with him.

MS: I know, this is a classic and everyone’s heard of it. But for the new people, this is probably a good place to start to get into shipping Rosekiller. And yk, a reread would be good 🤭

Link: The fic bcuz the title is too long

5. Spider-Man: Death Eater Parade by basiliscus

Status: 5/14

Summary: Evan Rosier has been Spider-Man since he was 15 years old and he is tired. He saw it all, he did it all and he hates himself more than any Rita Skeeter ever could. Evan Rosier has seen people die. He let people die. Evan Rosier is tired, his moral code is broken and then a ghost from the past comes to haunt him 5 years after he thought he buried him and sent him off to hell.

Barty Crouch hates Spider-Man. He can't stand the bastard who's willing to let people die when he has the ability to prevent it. Barty spends almost every day on whatever scene Spider-Man goes to. Only break to this routine is an awkward university dropout Evan Rosier that stumbles into his life.

Evan is living a double life as Spider-Man and quite literally hates it. He meets the only person who hates him more than he hates himself.

There's no person on Earth who hates Spider-Man more than Barty. The issue is Barty falls for Evan.

MS: Alright, here’s a Spider-Man alternate au fic with double identities and a enemies to lovers. It is still ongoing though, but love anyway

Link: Spider-Man: Death Eater Parade

6. A Truthful Joke by justreadandwritex

Status: 9/9

Summary: Evan and Barty have been best friends since the age of three. Now they're sixteen, at Hogwarts, surrounded by couples. They joke about it - a lot - but at a certain point, when is it a joke and when is it a desire?

On top of a sexuality crisis and family issues, has to deal with another feeling, or rather feelings. For his best friend.

And while his best friend seems to pull away from him, Barty tries everything in his power to keep Evan in his life. They're best friends after all, right? Just friends. Ha.

*Some chapters will discuss homophobia or family issues but I always give trigger warnings

MS: It’s beautiful and I like it. That’s it.

Link: A Truthful Joke

7. Annoying by godforsaken_mess

Status: 31/31

Summary: barty accidentally texts the wrong number. evan just happens to be the victim.

a texting story that i got the idea to write at 3am so you can expect perfection (sarcasm).

obviously rosekiller is the main ship but i'll shift focus onto the other ones from time to time so that they can happen as well.

more focus on the slytherins ofc but the friend group is split up so please forgive me 🙏

i don't own any of these characters!!

MS: Evan is a little shit here and I love him so it’s fine. Also love a good text fic so just 🫶

Link: Annoying

8. Call It What You Want by lxcuxex

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Sometimes you two are worse than Regulus and James.”

Evan’s attention immediately snapped towards Dorcas who paused mid bite, “What? It’s true. You’re bickering like a married couple.”

Barty simply grinned, leaning forward. “Our fifth anniversary is coming up isn’t it my sweet Evan? Shall we go on a trip, love? Perhaps the countryside?” He suggested, watching as Evan’s face flushed a pink, bright on his freckled cheeks.

The one where Barty and Evan are too clueless to realize they are basically boyfriends.

MS: The last part of the summary is so true though. Anyway, love this fic and idk how many times i’ve reread it

Link: Call It What You Want

9. One got shot and the other got lost by All_for_the_andreil

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Barty, what the fuck?”

-or-

Barty Crouch Jr. slowly losing his mind when he thinks Evan is dead and then being his psychotic self when he finds out he's being held hostage instead

TW: Blood and violence

MS: Look, I know I said I love a lot of the fics here but this one might take the cake. I love psycho Rosekiller even more than I love fluffy Rosekiller. If you look carefully, you’ll notice this may be the only crazy, semi-canon fic in this rec list, so yes.

Link: Too long title that I’m lazy to type

10. don’t want none of this (good times all times) by cherryknots

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“They’re messing with you both,” Lily whispered in his ear, and he had to lean in close to hear her over the cheers that were louder now as the kisses around the circle grew sloppier with each couple.

“Hm?” Evan blinked, still staring at the spot that had been previously occupied by Sirius. He was long gone now.

“Sirius and Barty,” Lily clarified patiently. “They got you and Remus right where they wanted you. I think that Sirius is currently… making it up to Remus right now in the dorm…"

Evan lifted his eyes back to Barty, who was still staring at him. At how close he was to Lily, a frown deepening on his face.

Oh?

So that’s what this was?

A small smile grew on Evan’s face, and he nodded in understanding. If Barty wanted to play, then Evan would, too.

or, Evan is dragged to another Gryffindor party, and to his dismay, Barty has to kiss Sirius Black during Spin the Bottle.

MS: Evan flirting back to Barty? Are you serious? Yes please. *snatches it and consumes greedily* but anyway, it’s a short fic about them messing with each other, although I have no idea why they would want to do that but yk, ok

Link: Too long title yet again

11. The Very First Night by constellationgrayson

Status: 1/1

Summary: Barty is a detective. Evan is a jewel thief.

But Barty wasn't always a detective, and one look from Evan is making him wonder if his new life is really as fulfilling as he wants it to be.

MS: A somewhat forbidden romance and I am insanely grateful to the author for making it a fade to black kinda scene at one point. Or maybe I just skipped it I can’t remember.

Link: The Very First Night

12. We Found Wonderland by kazsbf

Status: 1/1

Summary:

"Barty never liked closed captions before he met Evan. He hated the idea of having to read something he was meant to be watching, but he learned to love having closed captions automatically turned on for all his devices. He even had them set to automatic on his phone just in case Evan wanted to watch something when they were in the car or the library. He liked seeing Evan's eyes light up when he didn't have to turn them on and make accommodations for himself--they were already there for him."

MS: In other words: Evan is deaf and Barty arranges a date for them that accommodates his disability 🫶 Barty being the sweetest boyfriend

Link: We Found Wonderland

13. remember that night by regulvrs

Status: 1/1

Summary: Evan and Barty share their first kiss. The only problem? Barty doesn't remember it. And that ruins Evan.

MS: Angst with a happy ending! I wanted to throw something at Barty to knock some sense into him but tbf to him, he was drunk, though I have no idea how it works having never drank before or see someone truly drunk but ok

Link: remember that night

14. Sparks fly by bluesofacushion

Status: 1/1

Summary: Evan is head over heels in love with one of his best friends. What can he do? It’s not like Barty likes him back. He is fully determined to keep his secret with him to the grave but Pandora has other plans.

Based on ‘Sparks Fly’ by Taylor Swift so it’s mostly just fluff

MS: It is a sweet fic that is yes, mostly fluff

Link: Sparks fly

15. gods & monsters by littleredpartydress

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Barty, can we talk?” Evan asked.

Fuck. Is it serious? He couldn’t talk to Evan about something serious right now.

“It’s private so, uh, do you mind following me?”

Of course he minded.

“Sure,” Barty agreed.

Barty and Evan get together after Evan is encouraged by Pandora.

MS: Pandora being the matchmaker here is beautiful

Link: gods & monsters

16. To Be Seen by twoclosetothestars

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Well, how long have you liked me for?” Evan asks.

“Since when I stayed at your house for summer break before fourth year,” Barty confesses.

“So really you have no room to judge because you didn't mention anything either!” Evan points out.

“Whatever,” Barty grumbles. “We’re both idiots. Now can we get to the part where we kiss because I’m really looking forward to that part?”

“I’m an idiot now, am I?”

“Yes,” Barty agrees. “An annoyingly beautiful, funny, smart, amazing idiot who I’d really like to kiss right now.”

“Sweet talker,” Evan teases, and then his lips are on Barty’s.

MS: They are idiots in love, your honor

Link: To Be Seen

17. All for you by dramaticwitchbitch

Status: 1/1

Summary: Evan was pining. He knew he was. But simply knowing that did not make him feels less pathetic. It should be impossible to fall on love with one’s best friend. But Evan’s poor heart had gone and done it anyway. Barty, of course, was wholly oblivious to Evans pining. Evan supposed it was a blessing anyway. He wasn’t sure if their friendship would survive the thing.

The thing, was what Evan called is quiet obsession with Barty that threatened to burst put into a huge love confession along the lines of, love me like I love you, let’s grow old together; every time Barty smiled at him. Or flirted with him. Or just sat next to him, smelling sinfully good. Or just existing in Evan’s vicinity. Evan had it bad.

MS: Rose is down so bad and so is Bee

Link: All for you

Hope you enjoyed reading all of them :) and surprise surprise, there are more fics that I have yet to read so i’ll most likely be adding on to this :D

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aliveinacoffin · 10 months

Note

request ❤️

Not sure if you would do this but aizawa yandere! Maybe where the reader said something to him that made him angry and hurt them (the punishment) and he hurt himself in the process (like he punched them so hard or something and his hand started swelling). Then he just left them until he cooled down and then gave them food and came hours later and the food was untouched and they haven’t moved either and it turns out they were unconscious. (Something like that). If ur not comfortable to do this then u can delete this. Thank u!

Ofc! This seems so morbid and I love it lmao (this ended up being way longer than I wanted it too,,,,like over 2k words,,,, oopsie)

With my whole heart

He's the one who brought you into this hell hole and stole your life away, yet you're the one to blame.

GN!Reader, since you didn't specify the gender, I hope that's okay! :D TW: Violence, Yandere, mentions of stalking, brief mentions of kidnapping/drugging, brief mentions of non-con, manipulation, and overall toxicity

It's been six months.

Six fucking months since you've seen your family, since you've had any autonomy decisions over yourself, since you've even been outside.

The person to blame? Shouta fucking Aizawa.

You had met him by chance during one of his patrols, and at first you two had hit it off.

___________________________________________

"You shouldn't be out this late at night. It's dangerous for someone like you." A gravelly voice called from behind you, startling you terribly.

You turned around, shaking in your spot and clutching at your purse. Your quirk activated on the spot, adrenaline jumpstarting your sharp nails and teeth. You relaxed when you saw Ereaserhead, the Eraserhead! He wasn't a very known hero, as were most underground heroes. But somehow word of his existence had found itself in your corner of the world, and stories of him just followed you, and each time you couldn't help but marvel at how cool he was.

"Ah! You startled me Ereaserhead." You laughed gently, hand clutched at your chest. Your smile was wide, your eyes crinkled, you were the face of beauty in the pale moonlight.

"I apologize. Do you need an escort home?" He asked, keeping his distance from you.

"Oh I'm quite alright, my apartment isn't far from here." You waved him off, holding up your oversized fleece sweater. The warm spring air providing enough warmth for you to wear such things, the leftovers of winter still nipped at your exposed flesh. Even though you couldn't see his eyes from his goggles, you could feel his eyes raking over your exposed shoulders.

"You live around here? In such a dangerous neighborhood? This is no such place for a person like you." Ereaserhead shook his head, hands clutching onto his capture weapon. He stepped towards you, coming to rest just by your side. "I'll walk you home, it will put me at ease knowing you get home safe."

You blushed and hoped he wouldn't be able to feel or see the heat on your face. He was being so kind! No wonder he was such a great hero, he seemed to always go the extra mile.

"Oh, thank you, sir. It's nice to know such kind heroes are roaming the streets." Your voice was sweet, and you gave him a kind smile.

___________________________________________

You should have said no. You should have screamed and ran the other way.

Of course, you couldn't blame yourself for that. How could you have possibly known? There was no way you could've foreseen that such a monster was hiding under that demeanor. A monster who would three months later cut your family off from you, run off all your friends, and would drug, kidnap you, and keep you hidden deep in the fucking woods.

He had been kind, just like any abusive partner was at first.

___________________________________________

You heard a familiar and comforting dark voice call out your name, and as per usual you turned around with a smile on your face and curious eyes.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were following me Ereaserhead." You teased, waiting for him to catch up to you.

He pulled down his goggles, and you saw his eyes squint for a mere second before they went back to his usual bored expression. "I wouldn't do something as heinous as that." He said simply, not even looking at you while he said so.

"Oh I know, I'm just teasing. What's a hot shot like you doing around here?" You gestured to the rather lively city around you. Usually, the man was stationed around filth-ridden parts of the town. He patrols in the epicenter of crime, being one of the few skilled pros that could easily take down his foes.

"Just following my patrol route, they put me here today." Ereaserhead replied, slightly shrugging his shoulders. His hands stuffed deep into his pockets as he scanned the area like a hawk.

"Well, you must feel out of your element. Oh!" You gasped suddenly, leaving over to rummage around in your bag. Spring was steadily approaching, and the humid air was not kind. Tonight you were wearing a simple black tank top with simple black shorts. If you had taken a second to look up while you were searching, you would've seen the other man slowly rolling his eyes all over your body.

"I got you a gift!" In your outstretched hands was a tiny black cat doll, with black button eyes and a tiny tail. "I saw it and it reminded me of you, and I knew I just had to get it."

Eraser took a hand out of his pant pocket and grazed his hands with yours as you passed along the simple token of joy. It was made out of some cheap fabric, with even cheaper big button eyes. His face melted a bit, and the barest hint of a smile could be seen on his face.

"If you don't like it, I don't mind. I know it's kind of a bad gift, but I just couldn't help myself." You giggled nervously, hand coming up to scratch at the back of your head.

"While I don't condone such frivolous spending habits, I'm glad you got it thinking of me." He nodded in your direction while stuffing the little cat in his front pocket.

Your heart leaped with glee, shoulders bunching together in happiness. "I'm glad you like it Eraser." Your shit-eating grin pointed at him, slightly nudging him with your elbow.

"You can call me Aizawa." He said, and you were caught off guard at his words. Most people knew pros' real names, but underground heroes were in a different category. He must really trust you if he was willing to give you a piece of personal information with you! Before you could say anything in retaliation, he cut you off. "I'm assuming I'm walking you home like always?" He asked, peeking at you with humor in his voice.

"Like always." You don't know when, but during this habit both your arms always found each other interlocked. So you happily tottered to his side, easily slotting your arm in between his.

___________________________________________

You wished you denied all those walks home. You should've started to throw away all the gifts that had then thereafter started showing up on your front door. You shouldn't have done a lot of things, because all those little 'harmless' things had added up to one very dangerous thing. Still.

There's no use mourning the past anymore.

You had gotten used to this lifestyle, living as Shouta's personal slave. Living trapped in the hellhole he called your home. Doing his laundry, cleaning for him, and doing whatever the hell he wanted out of you.

It's not like you really had a choice anywhere. Where were you gonna go when he wanted to put himself on top of you? Who could you turn to when he got too rough with you during a fight? Nowhere. No one.

At this point, you had almost completely accepted him. He'd done inviting from physically hurting you to mentally torturing you. Shouta Aizawa had nearly broken your will.

But the key word here was nearly.

You'd always been as strong as you were kind. Most people mistook kindness for naivety or weakness, but while those two could go hand in hand, they were not interchangeable.

And today was just one of those days where you did not want to deal with his shit. Where you weren't willing to.

These were the thoughts you had while angrily cooking up spaghetti, the poor ingredients being the victims of your warpath. Angrily you threw the box down on the counter, almost shattered the can of source on the counter, and nearly dented the pot while getting water for you to boil. You couldn't help it, it's not like you could just go up to Shouta and hit him. Fuck, you could barely push the man. You quickly learned he was very lean and dense under all those baggy clothes.

Lost in your spiraling anger, you didn't notice a shadow grow over you.

You turned around, and when you saw the very man you were having thoughts of killing you almost dropped the pot full of water.

"Jesus christ you startled me, you need to wear a bell or something." You gasped, quickly turning away from him, trying to escape his grabbing hands.

It never mattered though, since he managed to grab your waist anyway, pulling you flush against his body. You sighed and tried to elbow him off. "I'm busy." That was all you said, temper already short.

"Why are so upset? Did you see something on the news?" Shouta asked, and you heard the annoyance creeping up in his voice. Somewhere, in the self-preserving part of your brain told yourself to drop the attitude and comply. To stop being so aggressive and be the perfect fuck doll he wanted. To stop. To just stop fighting. To give up.

But for some reason, today was not the day you would.

"No, I didn't. I was just reminded that I can't go outside, and to make up for the lack of sun I get, I have to take a fucking vitamin every day to make sure I don't get sick. From not going outside on the goddamn porch." You answered, bitterness lacing every word you spat at him. But even though your words were directed at him, your back was faced away from him. You couldn't see the mounting anger in his face, or his fists clenching the more you went on.

Suddenly, you were forcefully turned around, your back leaning over the steadily heating stove. One of Shouta's large hands found itself grasping at the top of your head, pulling at the hair that was there.

"Enough. I give everything to you all these months and you're still ungrateful. What have I told you about the attitude?" He growled, eyes glowing red and hair floating up. At this point in this fucked up relationship, you didn't know if he was activating his quirk because he didn't want you to hurt him, or because it was just a reflex he had when he was extremely pissed off.

Fear wracked your body for a moment before your brain just shut off. "Fuck. You. I hate you-"

You felt a thunderous pain on the side of your face, hot and heavy on the right side of your face before your whole world blacked out on you.

___________________________________________

Shouta sighed, trying to expel all the anger that had been left over. He had promised himself he'd no longer get violent with you since he didn't want you to be afraid of him. So far, that had been fine, you had slowly but surely accepted your role here without many hitches in the road.

He looked down to your form on the floor and rolled his eyes thinking you were just being dramatic. He heaved you up without much look at you and flopped you on the couch. "You know I hate hitting you, and I'm so sorry, I just hate hearing you talk to me that way." He admitted as if that atoned his past sins. Shouta huffed in annoyance when he didn't get an answer, assuming you were just giving him the silent treatment again. He walked away to finish the dinner you had started.

His hand hurt like a bitch the whole time, and the man realized he had busted one of his knuckles.

Shit.

He must've hit you harder than he wanted. Nonetheless, you endured worse from him. You'd live.

"I brought you your food, I hope you like it." He muttered, setting it down on the coffee table in front of your laying form. Shouta waited for you to say something, and he called your name in mounting annoyance. He reached a large hand to touch your shoulder, but as soon as he came into contact, you quickly jerked away from him. Shouta sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, be that way. You'll see you need me." He turned to disappear in his study, having paperwork to process for the next day.

___________________________________________

The sun was setting by the time he was done, looking at the clock it had been hours since the dinner incident. Confusion crept into his mind, he would've heard you bustling in the kitchen by now, or you would've come in to apologize at the least.

But you hadn't done either of those things. Shouta got up and trekked down the hallway, and peeked into the living room. You were still paying on the couch, in the same position as he had left you in. His stomach dropped when he saw your food lay untouched.

He quickly made his way to you and rolled you onto your back. His grip tightened on your shoulder in shock when he saw your unconscious form.

Your cheek was completely swollen and red, the upper part of your cheekbone already fading into the telltale bluish hue of a bruise.

Fuck.

Shouta's heart and mind raced as he cradled your head, instantly checking your pulse. He sighed in relief when he felt your heart still beating steadily, and when he checked your breaths coming in a slow even rhythm.

Guilt instantly ate him up inside, as well as self-hate and disgust. Shouta never intended to hurt you this badly, your vile words undeserving of such a harsh punishment.

"I'm sorry, you're fine, I'm sorry." He slowly rocked you as his eyes slowly welled up with tears.

Shouta loved you with his entire being. The only reason his heart beat was to beat for you. He only breathed and lived for you. He only ate to make sure he felt well enough to talk to you, only drank water to make sure he could talk to you. He took more naps at work so he could be awake longer around you. He kidnapped you to make sure you were safe with him forever.

But a sick, tiny part of his brain told him you deserved it. He gave you everything you could ever want, devoted his entire being and life to you, and still, you said such hurtful words to him.

Either way, you'd be fine, you'd get up and you'd both apologize to one another.

But one of you would be more sorry than the other.

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happyk44 · 2 months

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Stayed up until 3:30 envisioning my daughter of Zeus OC from childhood that I crafted into an original original character having a nervous breakdown because the sky is loveless and law is loveless and order is loveless and at some point the love she has in her heart won't be enough

"the ocean is a possessive bastard that never wants you to leave, and the earth loves you so much it provides so you can live, and the dead are coated in love from grief, and homes are where love first sprouted, the warmth of the fire, and what is the core of family and marriage if not the love between people, but the sky?

the sky doesn't love you. you jump and it doesn't catch you, it will watch you plummet to the ground. the higher up you go, the harder it is to breathe. the sky does not want you, it does not love you. and the law does not love you. it doesn't care about you, who you are, how you are, the why's behind the rule you broke. it will structure itself how it sees fit, based on its own feelings of what is and isn't correct, and it will throw you away for the slightest infraction. it will kill you for not acting the way it demands.

and I am the daughter of the sky, I am the daughter of law. at some point love won't be enough to stop me from executing every person who so much as breathes wrong. my love is superficial. it is not authentic, it is not genuine, it is a thin, thin blanket covering my cold empty heart and I will not get to the point where it is ripped away! I will not be my mother, and I will not be my father! I REFUSE!

so please just let me die"

Naturally I tried to figure out how to sculpt this into a Jason monologue because who gives a shit about OCs, esp ones they've never heard of, lol, but it was 3:30 and I needed to sleep, and I was like meh it's not possibly for jaybird anyway, he's got that wolf in him

But Jason has also been continuously abandoned by every family he's ever had - his mom, the wolves, camp jupiter when they didn't go looking for him, leo and piper, probably more and so on, and I HC to be suicidal and actively self-harm himself

and you know what, I think it would be neat if everyone was like "Jason, you don't have time for friends, you need to learn to be a leader, you need to focus on training, blah blah blah" and he's desperate to see if he can have both and somehow someway he summons dead siblings to ask advice from or maybe he prays for advice and receives a dream from my stressed out baby girl who's basically like "I had so much love in my heart, it was slowly killing me every single day because my rules were small and stupid but they mattered so fucking much and people broke them all the tim and the intense need I felt to hurt them as punishment for their wrongdoings made me want to kill myself and the only reason I couldn't is because my friends kept catching me. don't befriend a child of Pluto or Mors, they're annoyingly adept and weirdly stubborn about you dying when they don't want you to"

ofc Jason is desperate. He wants people, he wants community. But she just shakes her head. "you're the oldest child of Jupiter here. You're the only child of Jupiter here. You have no choice. I was the youngest of my siblings. If I were in line to be praetor, if I were in line to be charge of my cohort, I would've tried so much harder to die because love and leadership are incompatible for us. Maybe it works out for other people, but not for us.

Abandon your affections, Jason. Crave friendship but never seek it out. It will hurt you less when it comes time to discipline those who break the rules. You are a tornado waiting to happen, you are a lightning storm. Your discipline will not be gentle and it will not be light. Do you want to be feared by those you love?"

and he shakes his head, wishing he was a softer person, one who shocked rather than electrocuted, one who didn't bear their teeth, and played with the breeze instead of manifesting gale.

"then love no one. because the fear will come no matter what, but love? that's what you have to work for. and it has no place with us"

#jason grace #happy talks pjo #okay im going back to sleep. woke up to feed cats take meds and write this out. bye

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freshlyrage · 7 months

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 17

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 9.7k

a/n: Hi sweethearts, its here... part 1 of New Orleans. Enjoy and happy Kinktober.

CW: Mentions of past poor relationship with eating

Masterlist

Javier is a smooth operator, you'll give him that. He slips out of your house without disturbing your mothers tranquil slumber. You were no good either, awoken by a chaste kiss, “Call me.” he whispers at 4 in the morning before disappearing out your window. You stir, still convinced you were dreaming. You wake with an attempt at nuzzling into his chest but instead you're met with the ghost of his warmth and the sound of your mother calling your name from the kitchen.

Eyes squinted you rise from bed and immediately sit back down. Your eyes widen and flash at your bare lower half, the soreness was a bit much. You know Javier would power trip if he saw the way your legs gave out. You wince as you waddle over to grab some pants.

You walk down your stairs into your kitchen with a warm flush on your face. You last saw your mother when she practically said you weren’t welcome in your house any more and now she has a narrowed eyed glare at you when you stumble down the stairs. Two eggs cracked, both for her. Her plate ready with tomato’s right where Javier bent you over and fucked you just 15 hours prior. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

“Good morning.” You croak with a yawn, passing her to open the fridge for some water. Her eyes follow you the whole time, trying to read your every move. Judging bit by bit.

Your eyes drag down to the counter where the house phone goes unhooked and stretched laid flat. She must have just gotten off the phone. You ignore it, you felt like your mother was always on the phone. Always stressed about the boutique.

“You’re sleeping with Javier.”

She says it matter-of-fact. Despite being prepared for the accusation you feel your stomach flipping. You had scripted this approach and prepared yourself before you dozed off after actually being fucked by Javier Peña (for the second time).

You flare your nostrils and widen your eyes in the best acting you’ve done in years and you deliver it so perfectly, “Xavier?”

You almost want to giggle, and your mother gasps—a mixture of relief and concern. Her eyes dart to the phone and you follow her gaze. “You’re back together?” She lowers the stove heat and crosses her arms, this is her dream. Marry you off to the soldier, the well off soldier. But her reaction is less expressive, maybe I should ask who she was just calling.

Later, you think, crush her twisted dreams now, “Oh you were talking about Javi!” You laugh as if her accusation was nothing short of ridiculous. “C’mon mami.. Why would you—oh the car?” You roll your neck, let go of all the knots and cracks.

Your mothers shoulders fall, probably upset that you aren't trying to work things out with your very awful ex. You wish she knew, how horrible he was, she’d still side with him.

You never described your mother as cruel, not even when you went away to Miami, when you could’ve rewritten your story. Your mother hadn’t beat you, she never called you names and she rarely ever yelled. And she wasn’t always cold. She could be kind to you, friendly, but she could also be mean—too straight up, afraid of white lies. She never loved you much, you knew people you met in college who showed you more love than your mother had. You spent all your life alone in your own home but at a certain point you made family with others.

Yet you ached for that affection from your biological family.

You hadn't given up completely and you reached an age where you could form a relationship with your brother. Finally, he wasn’t an extension of your mother, he could form his own opinions. You could distract yourself from the cast of sadness when she stares at you too long, when she’s reminded of how you came to be. When she looks at you and sees your father.

But through her frowns and sighs you at least had Frankie. Your brother was yours just as much as he was your mothers. He took care of you, you cared for him, he was mean, he was rude, but he loved you so much he never knew what to do with it. He struggled to protect you from certain things but he tried his best. God, he isnt good at showing it but he cares. He’s trying his best, you don’t think anyone loves you as much, and he doesn’t even love you all that much so it’s a bit sad and embarrassing when you think of it.

Your mother and Frankie found common ground on most things, it was just a quirk they developed from sharing so much time together. You and your mother have never agreed on anything in your life.

There were few things the two differed. Frankie was a cowboys fan and your mother favored the Texans. She hated his long hair, Frankie promised to never cut it. Frankie would kill Javier if he found what the two of you do, your mother will kill you instead.

Frankie saw it as a situation of respect, you were his baby sister for crying out loud. He thought your crush was a nuisance at worst, but he had seen how distant you got when he left. He wanted to kill Javier when he found out he kissed you before he went away, shit he wanted to kill you too.

And your mother, she thought your crush was child’s play. She saw Lorraine and Javier, she told you once that that, the romance between two teens, deciding to start their lives together, that was a display of true love. Your mom smiled over her food as she gushed over Javier and his girlfriend. You struggled to keep your food down when you entered the bathroom.

You don’t know when she made that decision because she seemed to be very indifferent to Javier’s personal life before he left. You guessed it was when she started having dinner with Lorraine's mother twice a week. It was also paired with her not considering you good enough for the son of Don Chucho. Makes more sense now that you know she slept with him too.

In her head it was Javier and Lorraine forever, so even if you admitted right now that you were sleeping with him she would find some way to talk you out of it for the sake of Lorraine.

You explain the bar lie and she believes you without batting an eye.

Between flickered glances at the phone and at you she presses some questions about his job and if he’ll speak to Lorraine before he leaves.

Mrs. Smith is convinced Lorraine and Javier will get married soon. You try not to audibly sigh as you go on about not being sure. She nods and serves her plate of eggs, you were meaning to ask why she came home early but the bubbling anxiety of mentioning Louisiana took over.

“Javier is driving me to Baton Rouge.” You drop nonchalantly. Pushing your sex and bed head out of your face as you sit on the stool. Her fork clatters and she coughs.

She’s silent for a moment, her dark brown eyes half lidded, her nostrils flaring slightly. Just like you, you got that from her… that small tick when you’re frustrated. She only urges an e por que?

You keep it cool, you know she’ll be upset regardless. “I’ll be staying with my grandmother for the weekend. Javier has a work trip in New Orleans, I’ll catch a ride.”

She lets out an overdrawn sigh, “señor dame fuerza,” she mutters her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Always so dramatic, your eyes flash to the clock, shouldn’t she be in church? You’d bring it up but you know if you do she’d throw that fork at you. “¿Sabes qué? No puedo detenerte.”

Your brows raise in shock.You let a silence beat before you reply, “No, you can’t.”

She sighs, “You know I’m just trying to protect you.”

And you don’t know what has gotten into you but— “Too late for that.”

Your mothers aging eyes widen, her mouth parting slightly in shock. For a split second you feel a pang in your chest, the guilt for that second is unbearable. But who had been there when you cried so much you’d choke? Had she felt guilty when she passed your room when you cried for her affection when you were just six. Had she felt guilty then?

Her gaze falls to the plate and you twist the knife further. “I’ll be apartment hunting there too, for this coming winter.” It comes to you on the spot, you never had the intention to do so but after her “move out” suggestion the idea came naturally. Maybe it was a mixture of hope, hoping the family in Baton Rouge would open their arms to you and never make you feel unwelcome.

Her brows raise a bit and with her smallest stutter she whispers, “Bien.”

“Good.” You snap, crossing your arms.

Her eyes widened again, appalled at your audacity. “Well–I’m going to work. I called your brother about you and Javier so you might want to clear the air.”

Your mother dramatically exits like she had two days ago when she dropped the first bomb of the week. An unbearable panic explodes in your chest, you physically recoil the second she leaves. Hand over your chest, you try to bite back tears.

No–not yet. No, not this time.

Avoidant, often you call yourself that. You avoided the things that made you feel anything other than a sense of security. You’d have 7 blow up arguments with your mother a year, in reality you should have an argument a day but you often avoided that too. You avoided all things Javier when he was gone, avoided breaking up with Xavier until the very last minute.

It was just in your nature, so after a few shed tears and a coughing up the milk you chugged from your wrecked nerves, you avoided the thought of being confronted by your older brother. You avoided the idea of having to lie to his face and then somehow convince him that despite your mothers claims you were indeed not fucking his best friend but you are also heading on a completely platonic mini vacation together in just a few days.

The trait was probably your fathers. Your mother never avoided a confrontation, she’d follow you up the stairs before you physically create a barrier between you two. Frankie had been the same way, stern and a bit mean but always in search to solve the problem the second it started. The second he found out you had kissed Javier from some girl who stopped by the hair salon he drove straight to the house to talk to you about it. That was them and like most things ‘mom and son’ you just couldn't be on that same level.

With that when your mom left you alone after that bomb you had locked yourself into your room and planned your lessons for the week, completely (sort of) shutting out all thoughts of this morning.

Until 2 pm when you had gotten hungry after only drinking milk that you spat up like an infant. Your brain splitting in two when you’re met with the back of your big brother's head. Somehow feeling some more of that bile lingering and coming back up.

“Frankie…” You whispered turning the corner and into the kitchen where he sat at the island stool. His hair still long and curly, Genie had a love-hate thing with it, on one hand he had beautiful healthy curls and on the other he looked a bit shaggy with it. It was a bit 1975 of him, the denim and mustache. Him and Javier being best friends just made sense, their style never evolved.

You see his face now, in his hands is a book and his eyes aren't as angry as you feared. That scared you the most, so you began, “Gordo–” His eyes flashed to yours again, maybe calling him by your childhood nickname was a bit much. “Mami is mistaken, you have to believe me– me and Javi never-we haven’t-god, we’re not even.”

But Frankie cuts, “Did you take a psychology course at Miami.”

Um…

Your brows pull tightly, afraid of where this is going. Is he just going to ignore the whole– “Yes-yeah I did, childhood and adolescent development and psychology.”

“Did you ever read Julian Ridden, anything from him?” Frankie taps his book and places it on the counter ignorant of him, his hand splayed on the cover and then slowly retreated. Words upside down, cover a pale palm out open.

You shake your head, “No– it was more like Piaget and Freud, what does this have to do with anything? I want to talk to you Frankie!”

Well so much for being avoidant. Now that he’s here you want none of whatever he’s trying to do now, no mind games, just let me lie to you dammit.

“Ridden came up with the Being and Knowing theory about parents who grew up with out a father of their own. He says that men who never had a father figure in their life often overcompensate in the lives of their children, they know what's it like to not have a father so they become what they wished for.”

Your brows soften for a moment, the tightness in your chest shifting from the possibility of being caught to concern for your brother. You take a step closer, pulling the book towards you and flipping it. “Frankie…are you alright, I know–well I don't but I figure the idea of being a father feels scary.”

“I’m sorry for not being there for you when you were little.” His head drops and you hurry to his side, slinging your arm over his shoulders. He shook his head in disagreement. It’s okay, you murmur into his shoulder. “It isn't okay, upu had no one, not even mami. I see it now. And I know it wasn't my responsibility to play the role of your father but I could’ve been a better example of what a man should be.”

Your heart splits in two and suddenly every worry you built until now washes away, a few tears fall at the sound of something so unfortunately true. You just hated that he realized how it’s been for you, that now he’s hurt too, you only wished that this would only pain you. “It’s okay you did your best, I’m better now.”

Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose and shrugs you off, startled you wipe your own tears afraid of what outburst is coming from this, “You looked for that in Javi–I know me, your dad and even fucking Xavier didn't treat you well, Javier was there for you and I feel like I prosecuted you for that–it's fucked up.”

There it is, taking the back of your palm you wipe your brow and land your hands on your hips. “What…”

“Listen, I was too hard on you about Javier. I know that now, I get it. He left and I blamed you internally, and sure some of it was your fault but I don’t know why I lacked sympathy for you all I thought about was myself.”

You cross your arms, now he’s entering waters unknown. When Javi left your brother distanced, you had taken the educated guess that it was because he was starting his life with his girlfriend not much else. Blame me? What was my fault? For what? You bite the inside of your lip, staring down the profile of your brother's face. “What do you mean?”

His brows screw, still his gaze fixed on nothing ahead of him. “You made shit awkward, Javier never called and when he did all he wanted to talk about was you.”

Your face flushes, “I’m sorry what– Javier doing Javier shit has nothing to do with me. He’s a famously known flaker, he leaves.. Often and when he does he like chooses to not exist in our lives. That's not my fault!”

Frankie closes his eyes and exhales a frustrated one. “Obviously some shit happened before he left which I know now was him fucking kissing you, god you should’ve never let that happen Andrea.”

You mirror his angry exhale and your tears have since dried. “Oh give me a break, I was fucking sixteen and in love with him, god forbid we share a kiss. Jesus christ, it wasn't that serious, he left and stopped calling. He's here now!”

Frankie’s head snaps to you in disbelief, “Wasn't that serious? He left and you didn't fucking eat, you were never home and when you started to be healthy again you started dating that–that prick, that called you fat on your birthday dinner. You leave for Miami and you never call, you come home and you work out until you’re sick and now Javier’s home and all of a sudden you're easy going and healthy and fine. That is a big deal!”

You stood frozen in front of him feeling like an open wound. Everything you hid, all the habits you tried to keep under wraps. How you skipped the meals your mother made, when you cried embarrassed when Genie found you on the side of the road after nearly fainting from a run. You had blocked it out, avoidant, Xavier had asked if you really wanted dessert on your eighteenth birthday, in front of your brother. He sat and watched. You were at a loss of words for once, you couldn't muster up anything to say. All things were true, he was right but you couldn’t face the connection.

“I…” You swallow the lump in your throat, “Yes, Frankie, yes I struggled. But it is what it is, it’s in the past!” You just accepted that idea 4 days ago but you couldn't tell him that, no.

He stands abruptly, the chair scraping tile, “I can sympathize with you now, we’re grown up but you complicated shit and I lost my best friend! You need to take responsibility.”

“I didn't do anything wrong!”

He scoffs, “Oh please! I wasn't the best brother to you but you knew Javier would do anything for you, you knew he was with Lorraine and you still had to have him! You never saw it this way, how could you? All you think about is yourself, but he was my friend first! He was my only fucking friend Andrea and-” His finger is pointed in your face. You're so angry you could slap him but that wouldn't end well, you and your brother were never above rough-housing. The optics arent the same now that the two of you are adults. “And imagine how I feel… after all this time, all this distance to get a call from mami saying regardless of it being my only boundary you're still seeing him? Please tell me I’m mistaken, nena. I’ll fucking kill him you have to understand me–he’s my family but you’re my little sister and I’m not letting him hurt you again, I cant watch it again. ” His finger falls.

Your skin feels a size too tight at that, the nickname he gave you when he first held you in his own chubby toddler arms. The burn of little sister, his stare blown and frantic you couldn't even tell exactly what he was mad about but it seemed to all boil over. Those six years of resentment you never knew he held. Standing in the kitchen where you had the man he’s begging you to be away from, below the bathroom where he asked you to go away with him and now with wild embers in the deep brown irises of your big brother, he pleads.

He is pleading, please don’t lie to me any longer, please don’t, not Javier, anyone else.

And you feel it, the guilt, the sick twisting storm throughout your body. You feel everything at once, you feel the paternal look in Frankie's eyes, his newfound fatherhood giving him perspective on how it must have been for you. You feel the resentment in how you acted after Javi left, how you never considered how his best friend leaving burned him too.

But so selfishly you’re brought back to the feeling of being in his arms. You hate that your brain is proving Frankie's point. Javier makes you feel stable, safe and maybe it’s unhealthy but it’s the greatest comfort you’ve ever felt.

You hadn’t known warmth until then.

Come november he’ll be gone and if you're careful no one gets hurt, he leaves and your secret is kept. Frankie is your family, he has hurt you 4 times over, he passed your room when you wept and rubbed in your face the relationship he had with your mother. You loved him to death but your feelings for Javier belong to you. You’re so tired of being told how to behave.

You lie.

“I am not sleeping with Javier.” Frankie’s tense shoulders drop, and you drag on the falsehood. “Mom got the wrong idea but I told her he had dropped his car off here so he could head to the bar and I’m so sorry for fucking shit up but its…me and him are different now. He’s my…” Your eyes drop, not having the heart to look at him as you fabricate all he knows. “He’s my best friend too, he knows about my grandma, he’s taking me to see her so we’ve been spending time together.” Half true, you hadn't even brought up your grandmother to Javier but you hoped to soon. You flick your gaze upward and your brother is stone face, internalizing all that you laid out, all the deception, you feel the trust between you two chipping piece by piece.

Your grandma, he whispers to himself and instantly frowns. He pulls you close to him tightly. You stay in the embrace for long, beginning to cry in shame. Feeling sick to lie to him this way, sob while he believes it’s because of your paternal trauma.

He’ll never forgive me.

Your brother leaves and it takes a few hours of complete isolation for you to feel anything at all. Sitting with your legs crossed in your bedroom, reliving all the good and bad in your story. Trying to pin-point all the wrong Frankie has done to justify lying to him the way you did. It’s radio silence in your room as you numbly pack, each corner tucked and rolled is a reminder of all the relationships you’re ruining. You think of your mother as you pack, you think of every time you packed a bag or lack thereof.

There were few things your mother did for you. By fourteen you were made to make your own dinner, pay for your own hair cuts, and keep up with your dentist appointments. But the one thing you could always rely on with your mother was her packing skills. She’d watch you struggle and let out an exasperated sigh before shoving you out the way and taking matters in her own hands.

Now at 9 pm you feel your mothers presence at the doorway while you struggle. It’s slight, the breeze surrounding her body, you feel the narrowed eyes peeled to the back of your head, the room pulsing with anticipation.

Will you be my mother again?

The weak part of you pleads.

But she closes the door for you without another word. And it's so silly but you begin to tear up, it's done once and for all.

You try your best to sleep that night but you find it impossible. You arrive at your class 10 minutes late with the students shaking their heads when they observe the cup of coffee in your hand. Class goes as good as it could be considering it was antsy eighth graders who had failed their algebra final. Two more weeks of summer school, one more month until you make a decision on your classroom. It makes you giggle a bit being called Ms. Diaz.

Javier doesn't call you Monday night but you know it's for the better. You know once you hear his voice you’ll miss him and you shouldn't do any more secret rendezvous until your family quits the speculation. You’ll have him all weekend, you'll have him in a few days.

On Tuesday you come home from work to a stranger taking care of your baby sister. Slowly your mother cuts off your purpose in her home. Hiring a nanny named Florencia, you still pick up Sol and give the nanny a break. Rolling your R’s in her face and watching as she attempts to mock you, she gets fed up. She smiles and pulls on your hair.

You’ll miss her the most you think, sometimes she makes you believe maybe you’ll be a good mother.

Wednesday ebbs and flows, you see Javier at the market. He stops in his tracks at the end of the aisle, strangely reminiscent of when he saw you for the first time after his year away. You in your bikini top and him in his dark jacket in 7/11. This time Javier looks around for on lookers and you do the same before he stalks you down the aisle, pushing your cart away before grabbing at your cheeks for a quick kiss that has your chest heating.

He steps away from you, creating distance in case a customer comes by. No one would know how had just kissed her.

You blush profusely and before you could tease him a worker passes you with a cart and begins stocking right next to the two of you.

“My dad is waiting in the truck.” Javier blurts, you take this moment to appreciate his attire. You want to ask if he dresses up this nice every time he goes for errands, you on the other hand… how funny would that kiss look to onlookers? A fully suited Javier pressing his lips to you in an oversized flannel and denim shorts.

You nod, “Okay…”

Javier looks over at the nosy employee, the two of you knew who the worker was, he was in Genie’s graduating class. Javier rolls his tongue in his cheek annoyed with their interaction being startled and it would be far too obvious to take the conversation elsewhere. Tilting his head to the ceiling and that familiar Peña sass you're so used to. He narrows his eyes at the worker again and shakes his head. Your cheeks hurt from the active attempt to not laugh.

“I’ll see you around Andrea, you look great.” He teases, his hand squeezing our shoulder. The worker stops his stocking at that and Javier doesn't give you the opportunity to pinch him because he's walking away.

Thursday you attempt to finish packing, stomach flipping at the thought of being on the road with Javier at 5 am the next day. Ten hours on the road and 3 nights alone. You stuff your birth control in between your towel and going out dress.

Right before bed, Javier calls your home phone. You aren't given the time to say hello.

“Are you okay?” He urges beyond the line. Your brows pull tight, your eyes dart to your packed back on the floor and to your clock, 10 pm.

“Yeah…are you okay?” You laugh and to your surprise he doesn't laugh back.

“Frankie came to my house today.”

Your heart skips a beat and you sit up in bed. Fuck. “O-okay what did he say?”

“I dont know… I just, I’m so sorry. I apologized to him for writing him off but you never told me about you eating or your grandmother I’m so-”

Your ears run hot, “Oh god he told you! I’m going to fucking kill him, jesus christ Frankie”

“Andrea let me see you, I can't wait until the morning. I need you to know.”

“Javi… please. My struggle was my business and it wasn't you or whatever, I was going through a lot more than you leaving at that time. I-” Your voice dies for a moment but you continue before Javier could cut you off. “I would rather talk about this tomorrow, please Javi.”

He’s silent for a moment, a beat, in that silence your brain clicks, Oh my god I haven't even told him about my grandmother.

“My grandmother”

“Your grandma” You both say in sync but you allow him to continue. “Your fathers mother contacted you, why didn't you tell me?” He says softly.

It wasn't intentional, at least you don't think it was. You're not sure when was the appropriate time to bring it up without it seeming like you accepted this weekend trip for a free ride. “She wants to meet me, she lives in Baton Rouge. I just didn't want to feel like I was just using you for a ride.” You sigh, afraid to admit. The thoughts of maybe being accepted by your father or a grandmother or an aunt, anyone. Your breath shudders. “I know… I know it's stupid but I’m so desperate for a family Javi.” You whisper.

He lapses into another silence. In those seconds you grew embarrassed with yourself, with your desperation. You felt a pang of ungratefulness, you saying this to someone who watched his mother walk out. You think of the people who have no one. You think of your own mother whose parents passed while she was a teen. Why did I say that?

“We’ll go see her on our way back home.”

Your brows pull together “What?” You frown.

“You should never feel like you're using me, I’ll take you Sunday to meet your grandmother.” You're silent again in a space between disbelief and expectation until he pushes you over the edge. “And… I am your family, you will always have me. But I think you know that.”

Your breath dies again, your chin quivering out of control.

I love you. How desperately you want to tell him, Javi, I love you so much.

Your mother is awake when you load your bags into Javier’s truck. You hear her rattling in the bathroom when you tie your shoes, you know she’ll watch from the window in her robe when you buckle in so when Javier grabs your bags you distance yourself, avoiding whatever affection he itches to show you.

You exhale when he settles in. He looks awfully handsome today, already dressed in conference attire. A lovely fitted mustard button down and black pants, his eyes flitting down to the glittering watch on his left wrist. And he tries to lean in again and you turn your head towards the window, and he gets the message. Still mutters curses regardless and pulls out of your street.

It takes 30 seconds to be on an empty dirt road and hes dangerously leaning to bite on your exposed shoulder, “Missed you querida, taste so sweet.” He grits and your redden straight down to your chest before letting out a ticklish giggle. You wiggle your hand around his head and tug his head off of you by the root of his hair. He looks at you with wet parted desperate lips and good god, you want him to pull over but–

“Eyes on the road agente.”

His eyes narrow and he shakes away his urge and continues down the road. You roll your neck, what an awful night of sleep you've had. You kick off your sandals and bring your knees to your chest. Leaning your cheek on your knee and you admire the man next to you. Sunrise splitting the pretty green trees, creating a lovely canary colored cast on the strong of his nose and eyes. His eyes, your stomach jumps, what lovely lashes on a man. You're envious.

It's silent until you're out of town and heading in the direction of George West, his eyes side glancing at you and double takes. His right palm covers your knee and pats, “Don't sit like that, it's dangerous.” Your lip quirks and you comply, remembering when he had said the same thing on your way to Liandra’s quince six years ago. He smirks at how quickly you obey, his calloused hand inching slowly up your leg and under your dress.

Your lip is between your teeth instantly and you part your legs. Hands at the end hem of your pearl colored dress.

Eyes still on the road he drags his fingers against your thin panties, your breath hitches as your buck your hips to give him more space, instead he slips his fingers in the space below, cupping you. The bumpy road jerks your core against his palm, you gasp and he chuckles.

“Javi…” You rub yourself on his palm, your free hand gripping his wrist. Your eyes fluttering closed, feeling the ball of his palm create the most necessary friction on your clit. Your panties ruined already, he must love the feel of the wetness seeping through.

His eyes stay on the road the whole time, “Hurry up, two more minutes and we hit a town.” He keeps his cool while you unravel next to him, inching towards an orgasm at dawn. And you let go of his wrist and run your hand up over your dress, needing as much touch as possible. You grip at your breast and hump his palm faster. This, this is quite the sight because despite your shut eyes you can feel Javier’s distracted gaze. “Christ, yeah baby let me see you.” Shamelessly you pull the top of your dress down, exposing your pretty peaked nipple and thats it.

Javier is moving his hand from under you and swerving the car off road. Thankfully these backroads won't see anyone but long haul truckers at this time because you're still so disoriented from the neared climax you don't think to fix yourself up but from the way Javier puts the car in park you know you wont need to fix anything. You're unbuckling and slipping your panties off instantaneously and he follows.

Unbuckling, unzipping and pulling out his erection. And to hell with thinking twice because the sight of him aching and twitching against his shirt has you scrambling on top of him.

His hands steading you as your hand slips between you, grabbing ahold of him with his tip prodding your entrance. You sink down, you moan softly but Javi is letting out a throaty rasp. Still you aren't used to the stretch of him especially from this angle. Your dress pools around the two of you, blocking any view of your bodies connecting.

No time to get used to this position, immediately he's driving his hips into you and you're bouncing, riding Javier. His hands gripping your ass, the windows fogging as the car fills with no sounds but grunts, whimpers and slaps. His mouth open and sucking at any inch of skin, finally his mouth suctioning your breast. Your hands tugs at his hair as you make a mess on his lap, the zipper of his pants will leave a mark you just know it. And you feel it, the pit, the dizziness, he feels you clench around him.

“C’mon Andrea, make a mess on me.” He grits, and you comply once again squeezing him tightly, leaking onto his lap. You're crying in pure pleasure and at your final call of his name he’s spilling into you, warm and just as messy.

He holds you tighter as the two of you float, still blurry eyed and dazed. You catch your breath together.

Like always you're so limp and fucked out that he takes it upon himself to disconnect the two of you and adjusts your dress. Planting sweet kisses in your hair, feeling empty and gaping you find it hard to move but he does it for you once again, guiding you back to your seat, buckling you in.

And like that you sleep for the next 3 hours of the drive

“Six more hours querida… We’re in Inez… according to the map.”

You wake to his right hand tangled in your hair, supporting your neck. You take a few seconds to realize that you're curled up in the passenger's seat of Javier’s truck. Squeezing your eyes tightly adjusting to the full blown daylight, eyes darting to the time, 8:40 am.

“Oh my god, do you want to switch?” You panic, you hadn't even offered splitting the labor. The ride was nine and a half hours at the very least and even harder navigating with a map. You had never driven for longer than two hours but it seems Javier is used to this sort of commute.

His face screws in disapproval and his fingers scratch at your head. “Todo bien, you can take the last hour. We should arrive by 2, the social lunch is at 3 but we can skip that.”

You nod, rubbing your eyes letting out an annoyed noise when his hand slides away from its place in your hair. Back to both hands on the wheel, your eyes flash down to the skirt of your dress and you feel clean? Your eyes dart to Javier’s lap and he's changed into a brown formal pant. “Did you–?”

His eyes follow yours and land back on the rolling roads, he nods. “Yeah, I cleaned you up when you were asleep and I changed… not sure how I would explain to Agent Messina what the wet spot on my pants was.”

Your brows shoot high and you laugh, “Fair point…” A fleeting feeling of uncertainty brushes you at the reference to another agent. You were alright in social settings but you're a school teacher for crying out loud, you have no idea what sort of people you’re about to encounter. In your head you see yourself walking into a dining hall full of suited men whispering and beating around the bush when asked questions of their career. You picture Javier in that setting, how you've rarely ever seen that ultra serious demeanor and disinterested aura. Rarely, but you have seen it, you remember just how cold he can be when you think of him shouldering Xavier out of his way nearly a month ago. You think of how stern he can be with you at times. Why does the thought of him working such a dangerous job scare and turn you on at the same time.

“So…” You drag in between the silence, “What should I expect this weekend.”

“Well, today there's the DEA social lunch thing, they're holding it so the bell hops could take our things up.”

You wiggle your brows, “Fancy…”

“Yeah, well after that we can settle in but from 7 to 9 I have a mandatory conference with my new co-workers, Colombia co workers.” He clarifies and you nod. “Then we have the night to ourselves. The guys will probably want to get drinks but we do whatever you want.”

Your chest heats, you almost want to roll your eyes at him. “Whatever… Okay and Saturday?”

“I have my long conference, 10:30 am until 2:30 pm.”

You let out a low whistle, “Four hours, jeez. Is it top secret?”

He rolls his eyes, “Probably. Don't take it personally, you knowing I’m leaving because of Pablo Escobar is enough.”

“Yeah, yeah… and after that?”

“Right, it’ll be time just for us. French quarters maybe?”

You beam, “Yeah maybe. Are any of your office friends going away to Colombia?” The question leaves you before you can form a purpose for it. Sure you'd love to meet the friends he might've made in Houston but a small part of you worries some people there will be aware of the existence of Lorraine and they will be aware of you, not being her. Afraid of a possible awkward conversation, oh god who are you to Javi? How will he introduce you–

“I think two guys from my section should be coming along. Felipe, he’s likable and polite. Dominican guy, but there's also Julian… not a fan.” His hand goes for the cup holder, fishing out a cigarette and you narrow your eyes at him. “Will you light me?” He asks.

Still with a scalding glare you grab his light and wait for him to slip the stick between his lips. “I’m just being helpful but I don't approve.” You strike the flame with your thumb and light him up. He mumbles a thank you and continues.

“Julian is in his mid thirties, kind of upset about my age and all that. He also got into it with Lorraine at a Christmas party a few years back.”

“Oh… what happened?”

Confirmed, you're going to die. His co-workers have met his long term girlfriend and now he's bringing you… his… oh god, are they going to think you’re in some ménage à trois? You hear stories from your college friends about white collared men and their wandering hands.

Javier taps his cigarette on the window, his face wondering how to start this story. But he starts with all of it, “When I got moved to train and work with the DEA me and Lorraine were in a trying to make it work phase.” Drag, “You know she’s very outgoing but she can get real defensive when she has a drink in her system. Anyway we had argued the night before so tensions were high when I decided to bring her to our christmas party.”

Your brain flashes briefly an image of Lorraine holding your arms telling you you’re beautiful on New Year’s eve, guilt and shame bolt through you, you tune out a small portion of his story thinking of Lorraine and her kindness towards you.

“…Julian decided to comment on Lorraine’s outfit choice. I mean you know how she was, very conservative being pastors daughter but when she wanted to dress up she… you remember what she wore to New Years?"

Your eyes widen, “How can I forget!” Custom made orange jumpsuit, you could’ve dropped dead from jealousy that night.

“Well he made a comment about me letting her leave the house in her outfit.”

You scoff, “Well whatever he had coming he deserved it.” You murmur, you hated that. You know that it was typical for women to comply with what their partners want them to wear but not for your generation. That was the time of your parents, every girl now wants to dress like Madonna and it’s great.

Javier laughs, “Yeah he did… Lorraine straight up called him… and I quote, 'a lonely short man with the complex of a man who’s 6 foot'. And slapped his drink from his hand, got all over his suit.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter, imagining the face on this stranger. The two of you laugh together at the image, but once the laughs died you fell into that familiar space of trepidation. You bask in the light silence while your brain ticks off the uncomfortable feeling of missing her as a friend. The strange sting that maybe she’ll never want to speak to you again.

“Hey…” Javi calls, ashing his cigarette in the cup holder. “¿Todo chido?”

You frown, “I don’t know… it’s stupid.” Your gaze averts out the window, passing a mall and some rest stop. His hand reaches out to your knee giving it a squeeze of encouragement. Whatever, “I kind of feel guilty? I know you two aren’t together but there’s a part of me that still wants her in my life. I liked being her friend that year.” You find it embarrassing to admit but most things are out in the open now with you and Javi, you have no time to keep these little feelings to yourselves, it’s what tore you apart for so long.

Javier’s grip loosens and your frown deepens as he retrieves it entirely. You look to him this time and his eye twitches slightly, you know it does that when he’s keeping something hidden. No time for that. “What Javi.” You say sternly.

His head darts to you and back to the road, “Nothing…”

“Javi.”

“Alright. With Lorraine… don’t feel guilty. She had your mind made up about you once she started college. I think her friends opened up to what was right in front of her.”

You lips twitch in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Javier sighs, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight now. “Well… I suppose they made her realize that you were a part of our relationship failing.”

“Me?” You had no part in that, he told you they had problems before the two of you kissed, before. The whole time it was all you, your crushing and whatever. You now know Javi had feelings for you then but you thought it was a back burner issue, from the stories you’ve heard it seemed like Lorraine and him were just too hot headed to be together.

“Well me more-so but it’s easier to fester dislike for someone you don’t have to face every night, so ever since then she’s kinda built a dislike for you.”

Oh.

Your heart is stuck somewhere again, this time between relieved and sad. Sad that after all these years of being jealous you still craved being her friend, yet it didn’t go both ways you suppose. And relieved that she already disliked you instead of possibly dropping the, hi I know we were close while you dated Javier but now I’m fucking him!

“Never mind then…” You drag, “Well I’m sure giving her a reason to hate me.”

Javier shrugs, “Everyone hates us.”

You giggle although the thought is absolutely terrifying to you, “Yeah… that’s true.”

“We should talk about Frankie.” Javi pitches after your two hours of talking about everything and nothing. You groan and pull his hand to your mouth. Shaking your head you mumble into his palm.

“Can’t talk sorry.” He scoffs at your attempt and removes his hand, whatever… you murmur. “Okay… okay. You first, mine is too much.” And it was, you’d have to detail the side of your mother he may not know, tell him about how it used to be between you and Frankie and you’d have to tell him about the accusation from your mother.

Javi can tell it's eating you alive because he intertwined his fingers with yours the second the crease between your brows deepened. “He showed up to the house, I was scared shitless when he started the conversation with your name. The conversation… it didn't go the way I was expecting.” His voice is low for that last part, you comfort him this time, placing your free on top of the hold you two had. “I guess I hadn't realized how much of a bad friend I turned into once I left. I think I lost my way when I was in Houston, I pushed everyone to the side and I think the only person left without an apology was your brother.”

You recall the face your brother made the night Lorraine broke the Houston news. Despite being wrapped in your own panic your first instinct was to look at Frankie. Frankie stared off into the distance with the same face of worry he had when mama would yell at them, disassociating for a moment before Genie beams with excitement. He imitated a smile when squeezing Javier's shoulders in congratulations. When you really think about it, Javier had been your brother's only friend.

“He loves you a lot, you're his family. But we are all selfish, he deserved an apology but you cant torture yourself over being oblivious.”

And you swear you see Javier’s eyes welling, you want to lean over the console and comfort him but you leave him to it. You leave him to process, letting go of his hand. He reaches for another cigarette and you light it.

With the wrist of his smoking hand he rubs his eyes, “Okay… your turn.” He chuckles through a rasp of emotion.

You tell him all, about your father and how your mother only ever loved him and how your existence has always been a reminder of the heartache she felt that day. Javier holds onto your hand again when you tell him that Frankie was cruel to you until middle school, that he’d never comforted you, that Frankie softened up to you when Javi got in the picture. Javi couldn't believe that, it was true, no one had ever shown you kindness and Frankie attempted to follow suit. Instead it manifested in overprotection and control.

It ended with your grandmother, with your mother cutting you off and your crushing ache for– “I’ve never truly felt loved by my family, it always felt conditional. I guess I’m reaching out to my fathers side in hopes they’ll welcome me there.”

Javier stops at a red light and looks over to you. His mouth twitching in hesitation, “Regardless of what happens you will always have a family, no matter where we stand or if we hate each other in the next few months, you will never need to look for a family as long as I’m around.”

Valet, fancy.

You itch to comment when the bell hop takes your bags. You explore the lobby a bit while Javier is a few feet away from you getting directions to the lunch they were both craving so badly. You hoped you were properly dressed, it was a favorite dress of yours, it’s pearl color and your sandals had a wedge.

The lobby was lavish, mosaic tiles, gilded pillars and beautiful bouquets of flowers at every turn. And it couldn’t get any better. You look up and are met with beautiful ceiling paintings and glistening chandeliers. Jesus.

“Andrea!” Javi calls from across the room and you make your way toward him. The man he spoke to was moving away to handle business elsewhere. “Everyone’s down this hall, apparently it’s more so a cocktail hour.” You groan, hungry as could be. He takes hold of your hand, in a public space, you stomach grumbles and you can’t tell if it’s from lack of food or the idea of being like this with him. He laughs, bringing a hand to squeeze your stomach. “It’s alright, I’ll call up room service later we’re just going to show face.”

Show face indeed, the room is packed. And you're a bit underdressed, dressed for lunch while everyone in the room were suited and in cocktail dresses. Your brows raising at the sight of men with guns in their holsters. Sure you're from Texas but open carry wasn't as common near you. Then again you're walking into a room of DEA agents. Javi squeezes your hand, “My co-workers are over there.”

Through the room Javier is given nods and smiles. You are too, men and women alike smiling and nodding at you too. Ahead of you was a tall woman in her 40s with shoulder length black hair, the only woman in the room with a suit. Messina, you assume, next to him is a tall dark skinned man with short buzzed hair in a gray suit. Upon arrival Javier’s face splits into a smile and he lets your hand go to hug his coworker. Felipe, you assume.

You're left smiling and saying hello to Messina. “You look good, Vaquero.” He squeezes Javier’s waist as they part. “Missing your cowboy hat.” He jutts his chin towards Javier’s cowboy boots. Javier shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever Yank.” Northerner, funny. For a moment you feel out of place, standing at Javier’s side without a name or acknowledgement until Felipe extends a hand out to you.

“Pardon me, I’m from New York but I do have manners. What's your name sweetheart,”

Your brows raise at the sudden attention, you take his hand and he shakes it. Instinctually Javier steps closer to you. “Andrea, nice to meet you.”

“Beautiful name.” He smiles and looks back to Javier with raised brows. Javier squinted in distaste and snaked his around your waist to pull you into him. You smile down at your feet with a blush from both the compliment and also the way Javier’s hand felt so large splayed on your waist. “So…” He wiggles his brows and Javier scoffs at his co-workers nosiness.

Javier looks at you briefly, “So…” He mocks, “This is my girlfriend Andrea.”

Oh.

It's disarming the label coming from his lips, you feel a heat rise from your belly straight to your ears and cheeks. A small part of you is kicking yourself for reacting to such a label but its beautiful to the ears.

So you were his girlfriend, huh.

“Well she’s beautiful, right Messina?”

Messina smiles, “Indeed, you can call me Claudia.” She reaches out and you take her hand, cold and soft, reminding you of the hands of your mother.

“Can I call you Claudia?” Felipe beams.

“No.” She cuts and Javier stifles a laugh. You lean into Javier giggling at the interaction.

“Where’s your girlfriend Felipe, the receptionist?” Javi teases but Felipe seems to be equally as amused.

Felipe smiles, “Fiancé, she's around somewhere.”

You look up at Javier who looks absolutely stunned at the announcement, “No mames…” He drags and Felipe shakes his head. He was definitely not kidding, “Congrats, wow.” Javi blinks, his eyes scanning the room.

“This is perfect, you two could get to know each other during our meeting.” Felipe waves his finger around the air. Quickly his smile fades, “Good god… Julian coming your way. Have fun, lets go Messina, we've had enough of him today.”

And like that the two of them sip their cocktails and leave you and Javi stranded. “Fucking assholes.” Javi chuckles before Julian comes into view and Lorraine was right. He was a short man, shorter than you. His suit hung loose on his body but he was awfully handsome and muscular. Although it looked a bit silly with his stature, you smile at him.

“Javier Peña, who’s this?” He says in a far grosser and irritating way, no way near the way Felipe asked. He stood with a glass in his hand. Javier’s face falls into that face he rarely shows you, his stone cold agent face.

You speak before he can for you, “I’m Andrea, his girlfriend.” You offer your hand and he laughs condescendingly as he shakes it. Clammy.

“Girlfriend?” He looks at Javier, “This one has a far better dress, a bit underdressed but at the very least not indecent.” He elbows Javier’s side, referring to Lorraine, thinking you aren't aware of whatever unfunny joke he’s attempting to make. Javier’s nostrils flare and before he says anything he’ll regret, you cut in.

“Well you might need to head to the tailor for the pants. And the jacket lacks… a stain of booze.” You tease right back. His face drops entirely. Javier’s head snaps towards you and his mouth splits into a smile.

He grabs your arm, “Alright, she’s had a few too many, we're going to our room.” He begins to drag you away and you giggle.

“I haven't had a drop!” You exclaim and he laughs, leaving Julian in the dust as he walks you through the room.

“You're crazy.” He shakes his head concealing his chuckle as you two exit the room. The air conditioning hits you hard once you leave the bustling room. In an instant he’s hauled you over his shoulder in the hotel hall, “Alright let's go have sex.”

You shriek from being off ground as he runs in the hall towards the elevator with you dangling over his shoulder.

Back in Laredo Lorraine calls Genie apologizing about not being able to attend her bachelorette party. Genie and Lorraine had stayed in contact all 6 years, close enough that Genie had Lorraine’s name down as a possible bridesmaid.

“It really is fine, i’ll be a dud anyway I can’t drink.” Genie jokes, she told Lorraine that she’s trying to get pregnant but not that she’s actually carrying. She excuses her new dry lifestyle on not wanting to gain weight before the wedding. In reality all she’s been doing is gaining weight.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, how’s the wedding planning going? Almost a week, are you ready?” She beams, sitting on the counter top of the apartment her and Javi shared. She had half her things packed to come home for the wedding.

Genie chuckles, “Girl, that’s none of my business. That’s all Andrea and Ms. Diaz.”

Lorraine bites the inside of her cheek at the sound of your name. She wonders if you and Javier have seen each other since he went home or if you still held that fiery personality and kept distance.

“Andrea… How’s she doing?” Lorraine closes her eyes, a bit fearful of how it sounded.

“Oh Andrea? She’s good, teaching school and all that. She’s on a little weekend trip with Javier though. She deserves a break.”

Lorraine feels her cheeks heat in jealousy.

“Are they—? You know, together?”

She doesn’t care now, she feels it’s her right to know. Genie is silent for a moment and each second that passes Lorraine is angrier.

“No, they aren’t. You know they’ve always been close.”

“Well she’s always had a crush on him though, knowing Javier they’re probably fucking somewhere… that fucking man…”

“Alright, no need to speculate.” Genie interrupts. “It’s their business, but I’m highly doubtful.”

Lorraine scoffs and looks down at her growing belly. Her brows furrowing and a sudden wave of hope.

“Right…” She flattens her hand there, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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astro-can-write · 5 months

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Hey pookie ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

Do you think you could do a SFW Alphabet for Tobio Kageyama from Haikyuu? Please and thank you!!!

hey pookie! ofc i can! this is my first time doing a sfw alphabet, so please tell me if i should change anything!

𝕊𝔽𝕎 𝔸𝕝𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕓𝕖𝕥 | 𝕂𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕪𝕒𝕞𝕒 𝕋𝕠𝕓𝕚𝕠

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

A = Affection (how affectionate are they?) Tobio doesn’t really know how to show affection. He’s not very fond of PDA unless it's just holding hands when no one’s around, but he loves cuddles and just basking in your warmth when you two are alone. He gets all flustered whenever you ask him for a kiss, and starts mumbling and stuttering like it's the end of the world. Physical touch isn’t his favourite love language, but he’ll still show affection in different ways, like attempting to make your favourite food. (Key word: attempt)

B = Best Friend (how would they be as a best friend?) Tobio would definitely be a lot more comfortable around you since you're his best friend than he is around other people. He would maybe talk more, express himself more, and even laugh at silly jokes you make. He would make a mental list of all your dislikes and likes, and even pick up your favourite drink for you if you’re ever late to school. He knows everything about you, and you know everything about him. He’ll probably try to listen to your problems but it doesn’t work out too well because he’s rather straightforward and oblivious at the same time, so he offers stupid advice. “Just ask them out,” is probably what he’d say if you said you had a crush on someone. He has full faith and trust in you and literally doesn’t care if you hang out with other people instead of him, although he’ll probably get all pouty if you spend time apart for too long. “I thought I was your best friend…”

C = Cuddles (do they like to cuddle? How do you guys cuddle?) Tobio only likes it if he’s super duper tired, like after a hard game or after fighting with Hinata. He likes it when you hold him in your arms, because it makes him feel like a child again. Although, you’re probably shorter than him and your arms probably die after a little bit. Occasionally, if he knows you're feeling down, he’ll hesitantly hold you in his arms and you guys will cuddle for, like, 5 minutes until he finally goes, “let’s play volleyball now.”

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) Tobio’s parents were at work all day, and his grandpa was old, so he and his older sister would help around the house a lot. While his sister did all the cooking, he would clean as fast as he could so that he could play volleyball again. He wanted to put his volleyball career as his very first priority and was hesitant about settling down because he needed to travel a lot, so you guys had a very quick wedding with close friends and family (and his Karasuno team, of course) and you accompanied him everywhere. Whenever he came home from practice or a game, he would clean the apartment or wherever you guys were staying, but there wasn’t much to clean so you let him watch some volleyball games while you cooked. He cooks if you're sick and tired, but he only makes pork curry because it's the only thing he knows how to make (and it's his favourite food).

E = Ending (how would breakups work out?) If you broke up with him, he’ll wonder what he did wrong and go to Sugawara or his sister for advice. He won’t cry - he’s just confused, and he hopes that you were just mistaken. He apologizes for whatever he’s done wrong. If you don’t talk to him at all after the breakup, he’ll start getting angry at himself and project it into volleyball, therefore making him return to his tyrant self. If he breaks up with you, it's probably because you were getting in the way of his career. He’ll definitely regret it and come back to you at one point, but it's up to you to accept or reject him.

F = Fiance (how do they feel about commitment?) Like I said before for Domestic, he’s hesitant about committing so much to a relationship that he lets it get in the way of volleyball. Volleyball is love, volleyball is life. He might not want to commit too much, but he’ll eventually come around because you're his second biggest priority (after volleyball). He knows his life will fall apart if you weren’t there for him, so he wants to get married quickly so you guys can travel together as a real couple.

G = Gentle (how gentle are they?) Tobio is very strong. You’ve seen his serves before, and you’re scared he might accidentally break your hand while holding it. His hands are calloused, but he’s surprisingly gentle with you because he’s also scared that he might hurt you by accident. He can get a bit too strong and grip your arm when he’s excited, but he’s quick to calm down when he sees you in pain.

H = Hugs (do they like hugs?) The same with cuddles - he’ll lean down and put his face into his shoulder if he’s tired or sad, and you guys will stay like that for as long as he needs. He gives you quick hugs for motivation or comfort, but it rarely happens and he only does it when you guys are alone.

I = I Love You (how fast do they say the L-word?) He had never thought about saying it until Hinata yelled, “YOU GUYS HAVEN’T EVEN SAID ‘I LOVE YOU’ TO EACH OTHER YET?” and then Tanaka and Noya started bullying him as well, so he was basically pressured into doing it. It had only been, like, a month since you guys had started dating. He started getting paranoid - were you going to say it first, or should he? Just to test it out, he said “I love you” in the most nonchalant voice before you guys parted ways at night. Flustered, you didn’t reply, which led him to thinking that you didn’t love him back. The next day, it happened to be his game against Shiratorizawa, so you said “I love you too” right before the game. This made him happy, and he did exceptionally well during the game.

J = Jealousy (how jealous do they get?) Tobio is extremely oblivious and doesn’t think much of it if you talk to other people. If someone’s flirting with you, he won’t do anything about it until he sees that you're visibly uncomfortable. He’ll come up behind you and glare at the flirter, making them (most of the time) run away. He doesn’t get jealous unless you’re hanging out with Hinata or anyone from his team, because then he gets worried that you might think he’s uncool compared to his teammates and leaves him. He’ll glare at his teammates, making them scared, and hide you from them. It's funny, but you had to tell him that his teammates weren’t gonna do anything to her. One person he gets really angry at is Oikawa, and after a slight incident, Oikawa now does not come near you anymore. Other than this, he’s not a relatively jealous person.

K = Kisses (what are their kisses like?) It depends. He can be gentle, he can be rough. He finds it hard to crouch down all the way to your lips, so he kisses you on top of your head a lot. When he does kiss your lips, it's usually a quick peck or just a full out makeout session. He’ll kiss his favourite part of you a lot, whether it be your nose or your hand or whatever you think is your unique feature. You like his kisses because he doesn’t do it a lot and it feels special whenever he does it. Whenever you kiss him, you probably need to stand on your tiptoes, and once your lips meet he doesn’t want to let you go.

L = Little ones (how are they around children?) Kids find him scary but he doesn’t know that so he doesn’t understand when they always hide from him. He’s kind of like Ushijima. He tries to make an attempt to play and talk with kids if you ask him to, but the kids don’t like him so they don’t reply or anything. But if there was a kid that did like him, he’ll probably have them hitting cross spikes and service aces by the end of the day. It all depends on the kid, but Tobio will definitely try his best around little ones if it benefits him. Only if it benefits him.

M = Mornings (how are mornings spent with them?) He’s usually up and about at, like, 5am. He goes for a jog, watches some games on the TV, tries to make breakfast, and then wakes you up at around 7 or 8am. He doesn’t let you sleep in unless you're really tired, because he wants you to have a healthy lifestyle by sleeping early and waking up early. Your mornings are always spent apart unless he drags you out for a run or if he sleeps in as well (after a game).

N = Nights (how are nights spent with them?) He either goes to sleep really late or really early. If it’s early and you go to sleep after him, he unconsciously wraps his arms around you and you guys stay like that till he wakes up. If it’s late and you go to sleep before him, he admires your face and purposely wraps his arms around you to keep you warm. There has never been a time where you haven’t woken up in his arms.

O = Open (how long would it take them to be open with you about themselves?) He didn’t talk about his ‘king’ phase until you tentatively brought it up. He isn’t the type to bring something up first, and rather waits for you to mention it. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since you guys started dating or started being friends, he’ll answer every one of your questions honestly because he thinks there’s no reason to hide anything if you’re gonna know it in the future anyway.

P = Patience (how easily angered are they?) Tobio is not a patient person. He’s very short-tempered unless he’s on the court, and he finds it hard to control his anger (especially whenever Hinata provokes him). He can get upset easily, but usually he’s just confused and tries to hide it. With you, he tries to be more patient and relaxed.

Q = Quizzes (how much do they remember about you?) EVERYTHING. No cap, he remembers EVERYTHING, even the things that you can’t remember. He makes mental notes whenever you mention something you like or dislike, and knows if you're uncomfortable with something. You might not like something but smile and say, “that’s fine!” and he’ll immediately go “no, it’s not. Last week, during lunch, you said you didn’t like it. Let’s go somewhere else/let’s do something else.” He knows your favourite colour, favourite hobby, favourite animal, birthday, favourite food, favourite book series, favourite type of scented markers, favourite flower, heck, even your favourite brand of hair shampoo.

R = Remember (what was their favourite memory of your relationship?) Your first kiss, and when you said “I love you too” to him before the game against Shiratorizawa. You kissed him after Karasuno won, making him even happier. Now, it's a tradition that you guys kiss before and after every game, no matter what the results are.

S = Security (how protective are they of you?) He knows what you're good at and what you're not, so he’ll either leave you be or insist that he helps you when you’re doing something. He also shields you from Hinata, Noya, and Tanaka, because he believes that they’ll accidentally suffocate you or something. He’s willing to throw punches at anyone who touches or speaks to you inappropriately, although most of the time they run off after seeing his scary face. He doesn’t want to be too protective, but sometimes he can’t help it and understands why you sometimes ask him for space.

T = Try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Tobio either forgets until two hours before the event, or starts planning a month before. If it's a huge event like an anniversary, he makes sure that everything is perfect and tries his best to impress you. He consults with Suga about what he should do for surprise dates and anniversary parties, and he’s extremely nervous that you might find out/you might not like it, so he pours all his knowledge into planning. For a date, he doesn’t dress up or anything unless you ask him to. He’s pretty chill and lazy with dates, especially if you’re the one planning it. If he’s the one planning it, it’s the same as before - frenzied planning, secrecy, surprises, and more. He puts effort into everything that involves you.

U = Ugly (what are some of their bad habits?) He tends to scare you with his temper a lot, so he’s trying to get that under control. Some other random habits probably include hyper fixating on volleyball and nothing else, shaking his leg, biting his lips, and tugging at his hair aggressively. The main thing he’s working on is his temper and volume/tone of voice when talking to you.

V = Vanity (how concerned are they about their looks?) The only thing he cares about is staying fit. He works out everyday, and files his fingernails to make setting easier. He doesn’t care if he gets acne, or how his hair looks, or if his clothes are wrinkled. As long as it doesn’t disturb his physical health, he has no care for his outer appearance (but still manages to look pretty every day!).

W = Whole (would they feel incomplete without you?) Definitely. After meeting you, you became a part of him. Without you, he goes back to his tyrant self. Without you, he feels like there’s no one that truly understands him. Without you, he feels misunderstood, and he has no one to actually talk to. Even if he loves volleyball and has limited time spent with you, he treasures every moment with you because you’re what keeps him going every day and night. Even volleyball won’t feel the same without you.

X = Xtra (an extra headcanon about them) You help tutor him because he’s a dumbass that can’t even get double-digits in tests. Either before or after practice, you guys meet up and you run him through all the topics learnt that day. His personal punishment is 15 finger pushups if he gets a question wrong. Unsurprisingly, he’s done a lot of pushups ever since you started tutoring him.

Y = Yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like?) He probably hates plain cheese pizza.

Z = Zzz (sleeping habits?) He air-sets when he sleeps. One time, you woke up for a drink of water and saw Tobio with his hands up in the air, doing air-sets and mumbling “dumbass Hinata! Snrrkkk zzz…run faster! Jump higher!” He also moves around and twitches a lot. He once woke up on the other end of the bed, and since he holds onto you while he sleeps, you woke up on the other end as well.

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and thats it! hope you enjoyed it! more requests welcome~

#requested #sfw alphabet #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #kageyama headcanons #sfw alphabet kageyama #haikyuu #headcanons #anime #request #volleyball #sfw

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