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blueparadis · 8 months

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╰┈➤ LOCKSMITH ✦ RIN ITOSHI.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ At an after-party of a match when Rin comes to know that you are looking for a suitable candidate to pop your cherry, he decides to help solely because he needs to blow off some steam too.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ soccer player!pleasure-dom!rin itoshi x ceo!sub!female!reader, little angst, flirting, obsessive and toxic tendencies, éxplicit smut { s/d dynamics, s/m dynamics, foreplay, nipple stimulation, m→f oral acts. overstimulation, orgasm control, orgasm denial ( 3 times sorta pain play), f!ngering, cunnilingus.} aftercare; 2,1k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |

“Need help?” Rin asks as your hands keep fidgeting with the buckle of his belt. His knees were wide apart from each other as much as possible to provide you the space you require to sit in between his legs in the W-position on the carpet floor. The air conditioner is on but still, it is getting blamed for not doing its job properly.

“Oh.Right.” he drawled. “I haven't asked you,” His arm extended to chin-up your face. “Your name,” He did not even have to lean forward to touch you. “What’s your name?” Your hands were still resting on his inner thigh, eyelids blinking slowly yet with pressure, forming creases in your forehead. Rin was right. You should not have had so many drinks, especially when you are about to get laid. “C’mon, you know mine already,” he added running his thumb over your tightly sealed lips.

“Cherry,” you muttered and at the very next moment, a teeth-flashing grin spread from ear to ear across his face. Rin leaned forward, dipping his face halfway. A throaty chuckle escaped from his mouth before it asked the same question again. “Alright. Cherry, what's your real name?” There are still some inches between his lips and yours but the night lighting of the room makes him seem closer; jocking down a bit further he whispered.“What’s the name I should moan when I'm inside you?”

You licked your dry lips feeling the proximity of his face unbearable. “I have. many,” you started off with a tiny smile as his hands slowly moved underneath your cheeks tickling you, rubbing your cheeks, playing with your hair strands. “Umm...but you can call me— pretty, angel, princess. . .” You uncurled your finger from a fist, one by one as you kept going on. Unlike your ex-boyfriend and vapid hook-ups, he is actually attentive or at least has the decency to be or maybe he is just another hot guy taking pity on you. He pauses you by grabbing your palm in his, lowering it to meet your gaze but you do not look up at him. Instead, a short-lived gasp leaves your mouth, eyebrows jump, and eyes widen at how his hands wrapped around yours perfectly.

Your lips remain parted from each other, eyes still lingering on his hands, fingers that are gradually filling the gaps in between yours Rin regrets his decision. He regrets not dragging you out of the bar sooner. Shit! You are so wasted. How long have you been drinking while sitting at the lonely corner of the bar? Maybe long before he showed up. If he did not get bored with his own match after-party you would have been too wasted to go home or come to your room in this multiplex.

Whatever little time he spent with you at the bar, you had complained to him how your ex-boyfriend treated you and dumped you a week ago. A perfect candidate to hit. According to him, one night stands should always be like an open and a shut case, even better when no past details regarding either of the party are shared, or pitied upon. But when you mentioned ex-boyfriend and a certain familiar name, Isagi Yoichi in the same sentence with tears in your eyes and trembling lips Rin was too tempted to give up the little birdie he caught in his cage of charms.

He should have walked away and let you down humbly instead of dragging you to the room. Still, he is glad that you already have a room booked here, otherwise, he would have to take you elsewhere. He never takes a girl to his reserved room, either he hits a pub or a bar if he has to blow off some steam. Truth be told, he is not a good guy, not good enough not to take advantage of drunk girls.He has never done it before, but he has thought of doing it. And in his defense, it was you who kept — damn it! Why is he thinking like a horny teenager?

Rin tucks a few of your hair strands behind your cold earlobes. He notices a heart-shaped pendant with a keyhole in between your collarbones. Damn! Isagi did quite a number on you. The key locket that he saw hanging from Isagi's pocket a few weeks ago must be yours.

“Y/N.” You blurt out peering at him. Your lyre of a voice borrowed in his mind making him arch his head, lips following the lead suggesting he registered your answer. But you were not done yet. “Y/N. . .”

“Y/N Mikage.”

Another brick in the wall. He is utterly fucked. Not only you are the ex-girlfriend of his rival player but also sister to Reo; Reo Mikage. He had a feeling he saw that pretty face of yours somewhere. He remembers it now, clear as a day. You are the CEO of Mikage Corporation given Reo has zero interest in becoming one. He even remembers being an ambassador for the sportswear and accessories your company has for four months. Damn! The world really is such a small place, isn't it?

Lost in his reverie of thoughts, Rin disentangled his hand from yours weighing his probable decisions. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I knew you’d back out.” you blurt out. “Most people do.”

That's not it. You are wrong.

Rin wants this, he is sure of it; maybe more than you but the stimulus fueling such intentions is not of a saint. Rin stands up grabbing you by the arm, pulling you up. It is abrupt, and not in his control. He is not sure who is more drunk at this point. You do not struggle to stand up but the dizziness accelerates. He enquired, “Most people do, huh?” He knows Isagi did not. “Why do you think so… why did you think I'd back out?”

His hands were at work. One hand at your back while the other unbuttons your shirt. He is keeping you distracted, and busy. He is not entirely invested in what you think, what you say, and what your reasons are right now. He only knows that he has the right piece of a puzzle to complete and relish the victory for as long as he lives. In the playground, Isagi might be a threat to his existence but right now, he is one. “Wish I knew.” you murmur under your breath as he unzips your pencil skirt and drops them on the floor.

Pushing you onto the soft mattress on the bed he basks in the view in front of him: You sprawled out on the bed, shirt unbuttoned from the bottom to top except the collar button just to keep the ribbon intact. He did not remove your lacy tights. Rin is not the type of guy who would small-talk before doing the deed but right now as he stares at your face in this pale night light he wishes he had something to say.

“I'm on pills. But if you don't trust me.” You pointed at the drawer. “Feel free to use.” God! Isagi is such a sleaze for making you take pills, especially when you are a virgin.

“I don't need one.” Rin huskily exclaims as he sits by the edge of the bed, placing a pillow underneath your head.

“Woah. You trust me now?” You mockingly mutter watching him run a finger through the turtle neck collar. You look at the A.C. it's at 20°C.

Rin dips his index finger through the elastic of your panty, running his finger from one end to the other of your waist. “What are you doing?” your voice slurred, skin covered with goosebumps.

“Time to see how much you trust me.” Rin remarks with a small smirk before dipping his head in between your legs peppering kisses, sucking in between, and placing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. You squirm and buck your hips wanting to feel more whatever he is making you feel. He holds your hips, firmly this time, to make you stay still as he wets your entrance by lapping his tongue over the cloth. The stockings are still on, and so are your shirt and lacy bra.

He is no foreigner to a virgin body but seeing your panty getting wet, dripping with juices increases his urge to explore you more. He knows you are close. But he does not want you to cum, not like this. He wants to see your face when he makes you cum, so that he can tell Isagi how beautiful and hot you looked while screaming his name as he gives you the best orgasm.

Getting up he sits by your waist before sliding his hand into your panty, cupping your vagina. It is wet, leaking with juices. He wished he could have put his cock into your juicy warm hole but he restrained himself; one at a time. Two fingers went inside you at ease. As he starts to finger you slowly, intensely your hands arch above your head to grip the sheets. He quickened his pace and the wet noises became louder. You try to look at him but with the mix of alcohol and second approaching high, you could barely make eye contact for five seconds.

All you do is clench the sheets. He jocks down, pausing his ministrations to suckle onto your nipples, bite it and that too over the cloth; running his tongue over your cleavage tasting the salt of your skin. Your white bra is soaked with his saliva around your nipples. You wish he could have done it without any clothing on but the least he does is to pull out your boobs out of the bra. Your nipples are pebbled and with the cool of the A.C goosebumps can be seen. You start to buck up your hips because of the prolonged pain in between your legs that keeps increasing with his slow, strong, and sensual strokes.

“No. Don't.” Rin almost snarls as your hips move. You try to but your body still resists. He takes his fingers out of your vagina holding your cheeks, his thumb barely touching your lips. “do you trust me?” you nod instantly conveying to him that you do. He smiles inwardly at your petty obedience while you can smell yourself on his hand. It is nasty you think but when he pushes his middle and ring finger into your mouth, you lick them clean. Rin smiles at your desperation. It makes him hard. It makes him wanna fuck you till you pass out.

“more than your ex?”He adds. You do not nod. You do not look away. You might be a virgin but you have known the most sincere eyes of a man in your lifetime and trampled upon them just because of one stupid love. “Right now. I trust you. I don't know about tomorrow” You pant and huff as he pinches your clit, and plays with it. You are half naked, and so is this guy, Rin yet you feel so seen. God! How badly he wants to kiss you and taste you properly! How did Isagi let go of an angel like you?

You struggle to keep up the eye contact as his fingers pick up the pace again. You arch and squirm as he continues but he is not fond of the look on your face now. You are still struggling, still halfway about this idea of one-night stand. Rin puts his palm over your eyes as he moves his finger up and down, rough and vigorously making you moan and arch like a bow as you reach high.

Rin pulls out his hands out of your panty. He still has his hand over your eyes as you calm down from the high, You ask him “Will I see you when I wake up?” removing his hand.

“Yes. Of course.” He lies. He says you will because, by the time he is long gone, you will not remember much of him in that heavily intoxicated state. He lies because, by the time his lie reaches your brain, you will be too exhausted to remain awake.

As you toss and turn around the bed, he goes to the bathroom. By the time he is out, you are already asleep. He leaves your room by locking it from inside. As he leaves the elevator he spots your P.A. He walks past him and then takes a U-turn to inform him to look after you in the morning. What a mess he is in! Stupid hormones.

He leaves for his hotel texting Isagi, “Thank you for leaving yn...” his finger pauses before it hits send. He diverted his thought into another twisted curve. What if? What if he can have you more than this? What if he can make Isagi see what kind of gem he lost? You are a gem. He is not wrong about that. The stakes are high — reputation, lust, rage, and repentance but it is worth a try if it is you, yn mikage.

@tteokdoroki @orchid3a @seirinz @semisgroupie @saenora

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 2 months

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18 Seasons

A Joel Miller baseball player AU.

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Joel Miller has only ever known playing baseball for his hometown team, and they��ve just announced they’re not resigning him. He heads to a fancy hotel bar to drink alone and wallow. He doesn’t except to find you, the team owner’s daughter, there. Warnings: smut, baseball talk, drinking, banter (reader has a smart mouth and Joel’s got that asshole voice), unprotected p in v (but a discussion on testing and reader has an IUD), F receiving oral, Joel’s 42, reader’s in her late 30’s. Words: 4,900 A/N: Happy 2024 Baseball Season! I’ve always thought Joel Miller would make a good baseball player, though I’m not sure if I just want to see him in tight baseball pants and that’s why I think that. 🤔 Anyways, this might be a bit of an adventure in me coping with the fact that my current favorite ballplayer is over 40 and only signed a minor league contract to play this season. Also, shout out to said favorite baseball player’s arm for being part of the cover of this, feels very Joel Miller to me. Hope you enjoy!

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"The Austin Capitals thank first baseman Joel Miller for his time and dedication to the team for the past 18 seasons. Miller is a six time All-Star, two time batting champion, and two time Gold Glove winner. He signed with his hometown team in the second round of the draft twenty three years ago and has been a great contribution both on and off the field. The organization will not be able to provide Miller with the proper playing time, with the current roster and plans for the upcoming season. We thank him for his years of service and he will forever be a part of the Capitals family."

Joel knew it was coming, it was inevitable. He had been warned of it multiple times, his agent straight and to the point about his chances, his brother and Maria more analytical and sympathetic, and his sweet Sarah so chipper and hopeful for him.

For twenty three years he’s only known the Capitals. The only thing he’s ever been good at, baseball… he’s never been so good at anything else really, save maybe for wood working or fishing, but those were hobbies. Baseball was his job, he knows he’s a lucky son of a bitch who got to do this full time, and now it’s all over, he’s unemployed.

Joel needs a drink. The stronger, the better.

DING. DING.

DING. DING. DING.

DING. DING.

He also needs to turn off his phone.

“What can I get you?”

“Gin martini, dirty please.”

“Should I charge it to your room?”

“Ye–“

“No, you can put it on my tab." You turn towards the deep voice, you’re used to the southern accent, you grew up around it, but this timbre is different and yet so familiar.

“Joel?” What the hell?

He lifts his glass towards you, his dark brown eyes shining at you from across the bar.

You haven’t seen him in quite a few years, ever since you got the hell out of Texas, moving to New York and betraying your home state for packed subway cars and better politics.

He stands and walks towards you, he looks just as good as you remembered. Broad, strong, and too damn handsome to be alone on what you know might be the worst night of his life.

“Figured you wouldn’t waste your time on any of that fruity drink stuff,” he nods towards your drink as it’s placed in front of you.

“Too much sugar gives me a headache.”

“Mm,” Joel gulps down the rest of his drink and signals the bartender for another.

“…How are you holding up? I’m really sor—“

“M’fine. Was expected.”

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Understood.

Joel Miller was never one for talking, or the media. He’d give them a nod and a quick answer before moving on to the next nuisance. Talking was never his job, you know this. Your dad would sometimes complain about how his star player couldn’t play nice with the reporters. You always admired Joel’s candidness, it’s one of the things that you found most attractive about him. He was always honest, whether it was a good thing or a bad thing depended on how high the team was in the standings. You’re going to miss him on your team, but you can’t let him know that.

“So, why exactly are you back here in Texas?”

“It’s my Mom’s birthday, she’s tired of visiting me in New York, was guilted back here as part of her present.”

“Mm. New York, hate playing in New York.”

“Likely thing to hear you say. Guess I should ask you what you’re doing in a fancy hotel bar in the city you live in?”

“S’quiet here, it’s the fanciest hotel ‘round here, nobody who stays here cares about baseball. Not a lot of people recognize me without the hat on.”

“Ouch. I care about baseball.”

“Yeah, and you don’t belong in a place like this,” Joel pivots to look at you, his arm resting on the bar top.

“Where do I belong, Joel?” You angle your body to look at him and swallow down the last bit of your drink.

“Some place cozier, not as cold and… corporate as this place. Some place… hip.”

Your head tips back in laughter. “Hip?! I have a phone case with ducks on it, I cried at the same part I always cry at during Paddington 2 last night. I’m far from hip, what a funny word.”

“Dunno, always got the idea you’re cooler than me.”

“Okay pro baseball player.”

“Not so pro now,” Joel scours.

“Hey, sorry,” you place your hand on his forearm, a perfunctory touch. You had zero decision on the matter, and yet you feel so much guilt over it. You know what this game meant to him and you know he made it known he wanted to return.

“S’alright. Just weird to know I’m done for.” He looks down and focuses on his hand rubbing back and forth on the rim of the glass. A nervous tell. Your hand remains on his arm, Joel makes no attempt to move away.

“You’re not done for, I’m sure another team would like you.”

“Don’t want another team. My daughter grew up here. Hell, I grew up here. My brother’s here. Sarah just started college here. I couldn’t move away.”

His daughter. The big story of Joel’s first year was how the star rookie, was also a father to a newborn baby girl. Juggling a .300 average and fatherhood.

“Wow, she’s in college, huh? I remember seeing her at the stadium all of the time, reminded me of how I grew up there too.”

“Time flies,” a wistful smile on his face as Joel signals the bartender for another round of drinks for the two of you.

Goodness he’s gorgeous. You’ve always found him attractive, ever since he was signed right out of high school. All tall, golden skinned and muscular, now his form is a little more filled out, his muscles less defined but still fully there. His arms and thighs thicker now, a small gut protruding, but still solid and muscular. His speed to round the bases is a lot slower these days but his power and batting eye are stronger from years of playing. He was a school girl crush for you, a stadium give away bobble head of his still sits in your office under the ruse that he was your team’s biggest player. Now you don’t know what to call it, you’re long past school girl crushes. All you know is now, over twenty years later, he’s still one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. Time sure does fly.

“Are you staying here tonight?” You cut the silence between the two of you, both of you facing the bar and quietly sipping your drinks. Joel’s eyes looking a little heavier, the alcohol taking its effect on him. You feel good, a lot lighter, but happy to sit and allow Joel to ponder.

“Planned on it. Booked a room. Figured I’d get drunk and go pass out, take care of everything I have to tomorrow. Just don’t want to deal with it tonight.”

“I understand that, just didn’t know if you needed car service home, I could have ordered you one.”

“Dad’s money, right?” Joel bites out condescendingly.

“Or, my money, you asshole,” you bark back. You know he’s pissed off at the world but there’s no need for his tone to be so mean towards you.

“Sorry, still kinda pissed off at your family.”

“My family? You mean my dad? I had nothing to do with it, my mother had nothing to do with it. You can be pissed off at him, but you’re also not getting any younger and believe it or not our farm system and minors are stacked with talent waiting to play.” You try to calm your voice as you gulp a drink down from your newly made martini. You don’t want to be pissed off and drunk but goodness the cold gin cools your heated body. “You’re old Joel, and you know it.”

“Of course I know it sweetheart, but I know I’m still better than most of those kids.”

“Yeah, well, stop getting injured and batting .220 and prove it.”

“Damn, you got a smart mouth,” Joel leers at you.

“Not to mention all the time and effort spent on keeping your body in playing shape. I’m sorry, you’re ancient in sports standards.”

“Real fuckin’ smart mouth, huh?” Joel leans in and whispers, “I like it.”

You fight the urge to moan, to give an audible to the feeling that’s now coursing through your body from those three words snarled into your ear.

You feel the same feelings you felt those few years ago, while out with the team celebrating their playoff series win. Drinks flowing, cigars puffing plumes of smoke into the air, conversations shouted above music, bodies sweating and glowing different hues under the lights on the dance floor. The Capitals were heading to the World Series for the first time in twenty years, thanks to Joel Miller’s walk-off home run. Teary hugs shared with your family and friends as you watched him round the bases, it may have been the happiest you’d ever seen your dad. Hell, it may have been the happiest you’d ever been. You didn’t think the night could get any better, until Joel backed you into a corner of the club and stuck his tongue in your mouth and his hand up your dress. You don’t know if you’ve still forgiven him for pulling his fingers out of you and wiping the wet of your orgasm on his jeans before slurring out, “Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that,” as he backed away and left, leaving you all weak kneed and blissed out panting for air.

You did agree though, he really shouldn’t have, the scandal that could’ve been brought on if the owner’s daughter was spotted in that position with the team’s star baseball player. He’s one of the reasons why you moved away, he was off limits and it drove you crazy. You casually dated, you slept with strangers, you spent three years with your ex who you thought you’d settle for and marry, but that night never escaped you. Sometimes you’d reach your hand between your legs and touch yourself while you remembered the look in his eyes as he nodded his head to signal you to follow him into that desolate space. Like he always wanted you as much as you always wanted him and he was seizing the opportunity.

“I’m just letting you know what we’re all seeing. Trust me, I don’t want to see you in any other colors than the Capitals color. Red suits you.” If you’re being honest, you really prefer him in the olive green button up shirt he’s wearing tonight. The top few buttons of it unbuttoned to relieve the stretched seams around his large shoulders giving you a peek of the gold chain he always wears resting against the bronzed skin of his neck and chest.

“Mm, whatever the color you want to call this is,” Joel grabs the shoulder of your shirt and rubs the fabric between his fingers, “suits you.”

“I call it aquamarine, most would just call it light blue.”

“S’pretty, s’soft.” You wonder if he can see how rapid your heart is beating or the swallow of air you gulp down as his eyes linger on your chest and neck. “Fits real well.”

“Thanks, bought it at one those real fancy stores they have in New York,” you lift your shoulder causing Joel to pull his hand back.

“Do the boys in New York like you in this color?” Joel’s words drip with the sarcastic tone he’s famous for.

“Worked a couple of weeks ago with a guy. HUGE New York fan,” you emphasize huge, two can play that game. “Like, big, real big.”

“Mm,” Joel’s nostrils flare. “He your last? This… New York fan?”

“Yep,” you smile through your glass taking a drink and licking your lips.

“Mm,” Joel’s eyes don’t leave your mouth. “And why’s that?”

“Been busy, haven’t found anybody that’s piqued my interest, I guess.”

“And what was so special about him?”

“Not sure,” you shrug, “he was good looking and paid for my martinis. I wanted him, he wanted me, the classic hook up.”

“Talk to him since?”

“Here and there, he seems nice enough." “Mm,” Joel licks his lips as he leans forward placing his arm on the back of your chair and turning it to swivel towards him, his other arm rests on the bar, caging you in between. “You want nice?” You can feel the heat radiating off his body, see the freckles on his skin from years of playing ball in the sun, smell the whiskey on his breath mixed with the soap on his skin. You’re so close you can almost count the gray hairs just beginning to tint his dark hair lighter. You want him.

“Not really. Plus, he was younger than me, I’m pretty sure I like older men.” You challenge him. You can compete with the best of them, and Joel’s one of the best, he’s made millions of dollars over the years just from being competitive.

“Mm,” Joel moves the hand from the back of your chair to your shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth, his touch igniting your core.

“How long has it been for… you?” Your words come out a little too nervous than you’d like them to be.

“Few months, not sure. Don’t like that type of distraction during the season.”

“A celibate?”

“No, not that, just don’t have the time with deal with all that, between Sarah’s senior year ‘n me having to focus more on my regimen, ya’ know since I’m ancient.”

“Mm,” you copy Joel’s sound. He smirks.

“Never been my scene to meet someone, fuck them, and leave the next morning.” Your body tenses at his words. “I prefer to know someone before I touch ‘em. Too many people out there just want to say they slept with a ballplayer and move on. Not for me.”

The hushed tone of Joel’s voice and his proximity to you begins to take its toll on you, you feel so hot and quite flustered. “I understand that.”

“You ever been with a ballplayer? Ya’ know since you’re involved in the business.”

“I haven’t… just what we did in that club after the playoff win,” you blink at him, willing him to tell you he wants more.

“You want to do more than just that with a ballplayer?” Joel’s accent dropping an octave as he whispers the question out.

“I do,” you just as quietly confess.

“You want to do more than just that with me?” he leans in closer.

“I do.”

“Alright sweetheart, your room or mine?”

“I have the suite, so mine.”

“Should’ve charged the drinks to your room then.” Joel turns and gets the bartender’s attention.

It’s becoming real. You calm your nerves as Joel signs the check and moves off the stool, you following him through the bar and lobby before reaching the elevator.

All you expected to do tonight was have a couple of drinks while reading a book in a quiet corner of the bar before ordering room service and watching whatever movie you can find on hotel TV. You’re now headed up to your room with Joel Miller.

The elevator doors ding open, empty with nobody following behind you. It’s just you and him in the mirrored oasis of the lift. You go in first and stand with your back against the wall.

“What number?”

“The P at the top, I have to scan my card,” you lift your key out of your pocket and hand it to him.

“Of course. You got the suite.”

“I did, wanted to treat myself on my return home.”

“Mm,” Joel scans the card and tucks it in the back pocket of his jeans. The doors close and your stomach anxiously drops as the lift speeds upward.

The vision of Joel surrounds you, his reflection repeated in every panel, you could stay right in this small room forever, seeing every angle of his handsome face. Aquiline nose, creased eyebrows, dimple tucked between a dark mustache and beard, plush lips, deep brown eyes, wavy hair.

“You’re staring.” You’re shocked out of your concentration by Joel’s whisper. “This whole elevator’s mirrors, I can see you as much as you see me.”

A blush creeps across your face.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Joel turns around and steps towards you, standing in front of you. “You look beautiful.” His hand rests against your cheek, his head angles down, his lips resting right in front of yours. “It’s hard to look away from you.”

You close the gap between the two of you, your lips meeting his. It’s a soft kiss, both of your tongues gently licking into each other’s mouths. You’re both savoring the first taste of each other in years, it feels like he also would think about your last kiss as much as you did. Joel pulls away first, turning his head to look in the mirror, you follow his gaze. His hand on your cheek, your hand resting on his bicep, far too big for you to be able to wrap your hand around it. This reality you’re in right now feels like something out of one of your wildest dreams. The alarm goes off, the elevator dinging your arrival to your floor. Joel turns away and you follow behind him as he unlocks your room door.

“Nice room, pretty big for just you, don’t you think?”

“It is. Maybe I figured I’d be sharing it with someone else. Maybe someone older who needed more space to get around on account of his old knees and hurt shoulder.”

“That mouth is going to get you in trouble one day, sweetheart.”

“I welcome it,” you look up at him as you bend over to untie your shoes.

“Where’s the bedroom?” Again, you like Joel’s bluntness. You appreciate how he doesn’t mince words, he knows what he wants and he tells you what he thinks.

You point, he nods, and turns towards it as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

“What? You got somewhere to go?” You shout still standing in the middle of the living room.

“No,” Joel peeks his head out of the doorframe, shirt half open, his hands paused on a button. “I just really want to see you naked on your bed.”

Your knees feel weak, your pussy clenches, your body breaks out in goosebumps. You love his mouth and the way he always sounds like an asshole, even if he’s telling you he wants to see you naked.

You hurry to the bedroom, taking your shirt off and tossing it behind you.

Joel stands with his shirt unbuttoned next to the bedside table, the only light source of the room is the lamp he’s turned on next to him. His skin might be your favorite color, sun bronzed with a patina of dark freckles across his chest and neck. His body standing in front of the dark wood paneled wall glowing in the aureate glow of the lamp takes your breath away. Maybe you should come home more often.

“Take your pants off,” Joel turns to you, his eyes lighting when he sees you without your shirt.

He sheds his shirt before unbuckling his belt and removing his jeans. Your own clothing removal pauses as you stare at the trail from his belly to the black boxer briefs bulging with his erection. This man could never survive without spandex, his thick thighs strain the tight fabric. “Like I said, take your pants off darlin’,” he chuckles. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him chuckle.

“Oh, sorry, yes,” stammers out as you remove your jeans.

You can’t help but not look away from him. You’ll never get over just how handsome and large he is. Other men with his features on their bodies would look ridiculous but Joel is perfectly put together. You can’t get over the fact that he wants you as much as you want him.

“How’d you know navy blue was my favorite color?” Joel asks as he stares at your panties. You wonder if he can see how soaked they are.

“Didn’t. Lucky you.” You’re not sure who’s luckier at this point, maybe you’re both ready to share each other’s luck.

“Very. Get on the bed for me.”

You lay down on the soft sheets, the bed and cover are so plush you sink into it. Your hands by your sides pet the silky sheet and your legs rub against the fabric, it feels so divine and smooth.

“God, you look good like that,” Joel reaches down to palm himself through his briefs. “Might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Your body lights on fire at his praise, your pulse quickening, your almost naked body feeling overheated. “Spread your legs for me.”

You follow his instruction, bending your knees and spreading. Joel climbs on the bed to kneel in between, his palms rest atop of your knees, you can feel the calluses on his hands from years of gloves and bats on your smooth skin.

He runs his hands down your legs before stopping right at the edge of your panties. You moan as he takes a hand and runs it back and forth along your drenched panties. “This all for me?” His cocky smile making his dimple even more apparent.

“Yes, fuck… yes,” you struggle out. You’re so turned on right now, aching all over. Joel’s barely even touched you and you feel like he’s already devastated your whole body. You’ve never felt this way with anybody else before.

“Want to see all of you, take your bra off ’n I’ll take these off,” Joel says as he cups your cloth covered pussy.

You lean up to unsnap your bra, quickly getting naked as Joel takes off your panties. He sits back on his heels, his eyes mapping your body. “Jesus baby, you’re so fucking pretty ’n soft looking.”

His voice, his accent, his praise, it causes a whimper out of you.

“I know baby,” Joel leans down, his hands grab your ass cheeks and pulls your whole body towards him, easily lifting your ass up. Your pussy rests now right in front of his face, you can feel the heat of his breath against your sensitive folds. He’s supporting your whole lower half in his hands until you lift your legs to rest atop his wide shoulders. He licks a long stripe up from your opening to your clit and back again.

“Taste so fucking good, so fucking sweet, knew you’d be this good. Can’t believe I didn’t taste you before.” Joel’s words of devotion are spoken straight to your cunt.

He devours your pussy like it’s never been ate before, fucking into you with his tongue, sucking on your clit, rubbing the bristle of his thin beard against your sensitive folds. Your thighs and legs beginning to shake against Joel as your whole body burns with pleasure. His hands are gripping your ass so tight, his strength and support the only reason why your whole body hasn’t collapsed as your orgasm quickly ripples through you.

Joel moans against you as you spill into him. He doesn’t come up for air as your hips writhe against him. He flicks his tongue against your pulsing clit, a scream escaping your mouth as he begins to press his tongue down on your too sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Holy fuck,” you struggle out. “Fuck. Joel, Joel. Fuck.”

“Mm,” Joel lifts his head up out of in between your legs, your wet glistening on the lower half of his face, his eyes resting under his furrowed brows staring right at you. You unwrap your legs from around his head as Joel gently helps your legs drop to the bed.

Joel rubs your legs and thighs as he stares down at you longingly. His actions are so sweet, actions you never thought you’d see. You don’t think a lot of people get to see this side of him, his features relaxed, mouth slacked open a bit, eyes softened, this isn’t competitive Joel, this is bedroom Joel.

“Let me fuck you baby, don’t think I’m going to last long, wanted to prove to you I can fuck you all night but I’ve waited a long time for this.”

Your core clenches at his words, you wanted to challenge him tonight too, but you can’t fathom the idea of waiting any longer for Joel’s cock inside you. He gets up off the bed, removing his briefs, his cock springing free. Fuck, he’s big and beautiful, the perfect size and shape to match his broad and athletic body.

Joel climbs back on the bed, his body resting in between your spread legs again, this time he leans forward, putting his weight on his two arms as he looms above you. You feel his cock resting against your wet cunt.

“You got a condom or should I have grabbed mine from my wallet?”

“No— can I ask you something?”

“Now?” Joel huffs. "I guess."

“Yes, yeah,” you gather your nerves before you confess. “I want to feel you, all of you. I have an IUD and I always use protection with… others, I just, I want to feel your cum inside of me.”

Joel's jaw drops at the shock of your blunt words. “Fuck, yes. Of course. Jesus Christ.” His dick twitches against you as he answers. “I’m tested and clean.”

“I’m clean too.”

“Fuck baby, I’m so glad you asked.” Joel plants a kiss to the top of your head as he pushes himself into you.

“Holy fuck,” you rasp out at the feel of Joel’s cock stretching you. He’s slow to enter, mindful of how tight your cunt is squeezing around him. It stings so good, you’ve never been this stretched before.

You shut your eyes and focus on taking his length, anchoring yourself in this moment.

“I can feel you clutching me, fuck you feel so good,” you open your eyes at Joel’s words. The glimmer of Joel’s gold chain catches your eye as he moves inside you. You’re mesmerized by how it moves between the two of you, the pendant swinging back and forth like a metronome of Joel’s cock entering and exiting you. “Look at me baby.”

You move your gaze from Joel’s necklace to his eyes, all big and brown and blown out with lust. He begins to increase his pace, your whole core beginning to build another orgasm. Joel cranes his neck down to kiss you, the way his mouth languidly moves against your mouth contrasts the brutal speed of the way he’s now fucking you. You move your hands up to cradle his head, gripping his messy curled hair, left longer during the offseason.

Years and years of pining over Joel culminating in this one night, a surprise encounter at the bar turning into the shared moans and groans you and Joel trade back and forth as your bodies move together.

He’s simply too beautiful, your eyes watching his heavy eyes disappear behind the crinkles on the side of them as he half smiles at you. Like he also can’t believe the two of you are doing this.

You move your hips to meet his thrusts, the softness of the bed cradling you as Joel fucks you harder.

“M’close baby,” respires out against your mouth. Your cunt tightening even more around him as you both begin to reach the apex of your orgasms. “You gonna cum with me?”

You can only nod and blink hoping that your whimpers and moans let him know you’re right there with him.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty and tight, can’t believe how fast you’re gonna make me cum. Fuck baby, just talking about it— gonna fucking cum.”

You feel Joel’s cock throb as his spend fills you, your orgasm following, pumping Joel’s cock as you pulse around him.

He drops down to rest on his forearms, his body landing on top of you. You welcome the feeling of his burning hot body smothering yours. He kisses you as he languidly still fucks into your cunt with his softening cock. Your pussy drips a mixture of your intermingled cum out as Joel pulls out and lays next to you on his back.

You turn and rest your head against his chest, his breaths slow and relaxed. Your hands run up his chest, stopping at the gold chain around his neck.

“Never took you for a necklace man, why do you wear it?”

“My daughter got it for me, when I won that playoff game.”

“Like THAT playoff game you hit the walk-off?” Your question implying it’s the same game you celebrated together in the back of the club.

“Yeah, that one,” Joel wraps his hand around yours. “Sometimes I still think of you and I that night when I see it. Thank you for tonight. You made a bad day into the best night.”

A/N: I adore these two. This stands as a one shot right now, since I'm currently working on my multi-chapter story Elks, but I might revisit them later. Go sports!

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou au #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller au #baseball fan fic #baseball au #basebal #batter up #baseball

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shes2real · 2 months

Note

The stuff you write is so good! I would love to see something for The Rock or Solo.

Run My Mouth ♡

Featuring 🌷: solo sikoa + female!reader

Warning ☁️: protected p in v, dirty talk, rough sex, 18+ Minors, please don’t interact. Thanks! ୨୧

Word count 🌷: 1k

Scenario ☁️: Known for running your mouth, Solo is the perfect candidate to shut it for you.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

Being a heel is so much fun in WWE. It’s 100x easier when it comes naturally. All your life you’ve been called a mean girl or boujee but you’ve just always taken it as a compliment. In reality, your friends just think you need some dick.

As you walked backstage after your match with Zelina Vega, you caught sight of your best friend, Naomi, cuddled up with her husband, Jimmy Uso. A twinge of jealousy flickered within you, but it quickly dissipated when you noticed Solo Sikoa sitting nearby. The Usos were fine as hell, but there was something about Solo's quiet demeanor that intrigued you.

You slid onto the sofa beside him, tossing your hair, "So, is this an act or what?"

Solo's response was a simple raise of his eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he observed you. “I bet you know how to talk a bitch through it,” you purred, leaning closer, the mixture of your sweat and perfume alluring him, “when you gone let me find out?” As you awaited his response, he walked away from you.

•••

After settling into your hotel room for the night, you notice the subtle click of the door locking behind you before making your way to the elevator. Jimmy walks up to you, handing you a piece of paper. “The fuck is that?” You mugged him, crossing your arms. He reveals it came from Solo as you quickly unfolded it. Your eyes widening as you read the hotel room number scrawled across the page. You looked up to see Jimmy fighting back laughter.

“Is this a joke? Cause I swear-“

He held his hands up in surrender, “Nah, it came from bro. You should’ve seen your face," he snorted, mimicking your shocked expression with a smirk. He extended his hand to dap you up, but you just looked at him, rolling your eyes before heading to the elevator, not even bothering to entertain his nonsense.

As you strut towards Room 1221, you feel flutters in your stomach. Was it your nerves or were you already growing wetter by the minute? Before you could lift your hand to knock on the door, he opens it, staring at you with low eyes.

A towel was wrapped around him as water dripped from his hair, it was evident that he’d just showered.

“Oh my-“ you started, but before you could finish, Solo pulled you into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. Solo liked that slick mouth, but he knew that she had a breaking point and only he would be the one to take her there.

As you stood in utter shock, Solo’s hand wrapped around your throat. You involuntarily moaned, causing a smirk to creep up on his face. “You liked that shit, huh?” He muttered.

For once you found yourself speechless. His grip grew tighter around your neck, "Ain’t got shit to say?" Your eyes rolled and you managed to breathe out, “Solo,” in a desperate plea. You didn’t even know what you wanted to say.

Before you knew it, his arms were wrapped around your thighs, causing you to squirm a bit. "Aye," He chuckled. "Relax." Using his thick thumb, he rubbed up and down against your slit, grinning at your wetness.

“Ain’t even did shit and you this wet?”

Moaning, you reached down and grabbed his wrist, "Move yo hand,” He commanded, looking up at you. "You gon’ take what the fuck I give you." You felt his thumb press against your clit, rubbing fast circles. “Oh shit!” You cried out, your hips jerking. As he toyed with your clit, he never broke eye contact with you. As your hips began to buck under his touch, you looked at him with teary eyes.

“Cum.”

You released, jerking harshly as you moaned his name. He hummed, rubbing your thigh soothingly. Getting up, he grabbed his wallet and grabbed a condom. You watched as he dropped the towel and rolled the condom on, there was no way in hell that all of that would fit.

“Arch ya back for me.” You turned around, deeply arching your back. Mentally and physically bracing yourself as his hands ran up and down your ass before he slid inside of you.

He remained still as you tried your hardest to take him. “So..big” you hissed. Solo held your hip while the other pushed down on your back, “You can take it,” he said, putting that one leg up. He started to thrust, and all that could be heard was your moans and the sound of your bodies colliding.

“Fuck, yo pussy tight.” He growled before pushing your head into the mattress. Your poor screams were muffled as he was drilling you, admiring the way you began to coat his dick.

“Just needed me to pipe yo ass down, huh?”

You moaned out a muffled, “Yesssssss” eventually reaching your hand back to push him away. “All that mouth and you running?” He taunted before throwing his head back. He felt himself close and he could tell you were too. Wrapping his hand into your hair, he pulled you back up, “Pleaseeee…” You sobbed.

Taunting you, he slowed down. You began to swivel your hips and throw it back on him, chasing your orgasm. He groaned before pulling out, sitting down at the head of the bed,

“Ride out your nut, baby."

He helped you onto him as you eased down onto his dick, your legs began to tremble. Solo quickly held your hips while you bounced on him, watching your face as it contorted in pleasure. “Ohhh..Solo!” You whined as he began to thrust his hips into you, helping you ride out your orgasm.

“Let it out baby,” He groaned, you shook harder as he rubbed your back, “Mhm” His strokes began to come to a halt as he nutted inside of the condom. He continued to hold you close to him as you drifted off to sleep, smirking softly at your soft snores.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

Thanks for reading babe ☁️🌷

・❥ ・ @kumapassion @romanreignsbae @pittieprincess22 @cyberdejos2 @xoxoril3yyy @rwbypatootie @solefae @adoreesun @alyyaanna @shantinextdoor

#wwe smut #wwe imagines #the bloodline x reader #requests! 𐙚 #solo sikoa #solo sikoa smut #solo sikoa fanfiction #sefa fatu

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arcielee · 9 months

Text

And you told me I should concentrate.

Summary: Aemond makes a mistake. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 2050 Warnings: Just some smut. Smidgen of Targcest in the beginning, definite voyeurism, marital cheating, oral (f receiving), p in v, breeding kink if you squint. Author's Note: Here is part 2 of Only if for a night. You wanted sad boi Aemond and here he is, wholly confused and just fucking things up 😂 Thank you to my beta reader @f4ll-for-you, you always help me to give the best version of our baby girl Aegon. 💜 lēkia is brother Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @sylas-the-grim @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9 @bucknastysbabe

His sister had once said that it was fate to crave what is given to another, but for Aemond, it was a dull ache that reverberated within his ribs as he dragged Aegon to the Iron Throne.

Aemond was first and foremost dutiful, his steadfast devotion extended to his brother and his crown, and it led his steps towards the confrontation on the Sept steps. But it was now a distant memory, along with the initial hesitation he had felt, as he was pleased that Aegon not just carried their ancestral crown as a decoration, but showed pride, thriving with his kingship.

He had no qualms to follow through with the expected betrothal that had been made, as your dowry had allowed them their victory. But Aemond could not help the relief that washed over when you had been formally introduced; you were poised, you were beautiful, and you had no compulsion to fill the air with incessant chatter, as he often found the other ladies of the court always were compelled to droll on.

It truly seemed to be a favorable match; you were not blatantly besotted with your intended–as Aemond knew this to be expected, Targaryen or not, he was always aware of the scar that burned across his features–but you were courteous, and he admired the touch of pink to your cheeks whenever his attention was solely on you.

The ceremony had been modest and you seemed grateful with how he threw the crowd that crowed for proof of your maidenhead from the chambers. It left you alone with your new husband and the unease that filled the air between.

Aemond was aware of your slight tremor, and he was mindful of every noise that spilled from your rosy lips, his hands were gentle to touch, guided by your soft sounds. With the proof of your purity spilled on the linen, and before he had left, he called for your handmaidens to have a warm bath drawn to help the ache between your thighs.

His dutiful nature followed into his role as lord husband, though perhaps not in a romantic sense, but he would escort you to break fast with his siblings and mother, or he would suggest a stroll in the gardens of the Red Keep if the weather allowed it. Aemond was also certain to allow your time apart, allowing you to keep the company of your handmaidens, but also he would come in the evenings to do what was expected of a man and wife.

But despite the time spent together outside of the marital chambers, there still tarried a trepidation in his bones. You were still reserved, the very embodiment of the perfect lady wife, but he was almost uneasy with how you responded to his touch, to his kiss. Aemond had hoped against hope that you would eventually bloom in response, but you seemed content to remain encased within your petals.

So Aemond sought advice from his sister Helaena, as he knew she allowed him a candid honesty and he could trust whatever insight she had to offer. She had always been a resounding comfort for him, something that began with his dismemberment when she faithfully visited him as he healed.

Their bond was something that knitted tightly in the marrow of their bones, something that naturally gave into an intimacy they shared when she first married Aegon. At first, resentment boiled beneath as Aemond watched how his brother disrespected his lady wife, how he was lost in his whores of Fleabottom and neglected fulfilling his marital duties.

This was when Helaena noticed how his gaze lingered and she called in her singsong voice, “it is our fate, I think, to crave always what is given to another.”

It was a thrill, her touch both familiar and unfamiliar, something that stirred a warmth in his lower abdomen, curling at the base of his spine. “The blood of the dragon must thrive,” she had whispered against his lips.

There was a sense of pride with how his legacy showed in the features of Jaehaerys’ that sharpened as he grew, and in the silk, silver texture of Jaehaera’s tresses, as well as the shade of lavender in the wide eyes of Maelor.

But this had not been his intention when he came to her that night, though he found it was too easy to fall back into her warm curves and embrace; her lyrical hymn that was coy to coax him–may the gods forgive him, but Aemond relished in being desired again.

He knew it was a lustful moment of weakness, and as the post-coital haze lifted, a sense of shame settled over in its place; Aemond had no intention to whore around on his wife, that he wished for her to carry his legitimate child, his legacy, as what was expected, as what was their duty to the realm.

“You just found your confidence again, lēkia,” Helaena remained bare, curled beneath the duvet, and watched as Aemond dressed. “You already know what you must do.”

Aemond knew he had to see you.

In the days that followed, the routine was broken by the bliss that now engulfed you, your tiptoes tumbling on air as you flit throughout the Red Keep. Aemond saw how you glowed, as did anyone who dared to compliment his wife, but he also noticed how the sugared words drew a knowing smirk across the king’s face.

Aegon knew the real reason behind your changed disposition, but played coy to relish in your reactions. It was a childish tease with a sharp pull to your shirts if you passed him by and the tug of fabric jolted through you, a warmth rekindled in your core, or how he would place his palm on your lower back, leaning until his lips almost touched your ear with the soft words, “How lovely you look today,” and that warmth would spill into your features, crimson with his praise.

You were flushed, your eyes bright, and this sweet demeanor was not missed by your husband, but Aemond hoped this meant you would be more receptive to coupling. The thought fluttered through his mind, propelling his steps forward that night as he made his way through one of the many ingresses that weaved the walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. He was quiet to enter your room, greeted by the golden flow of the tapers lit, by the sounds that spilled from your bed.

He could not press further, cemented to the cobblestone at the sight.

You were lovely and you were bare, sinking into the mattress with the top of your head towards the end of the bed, towards where your husband was rooted but you were unaware of his presence. Rose hues intimately stained your skin and the peaks of your thighs, your back arching with a mewled cry. Aemond watched your delicate hands reach to comb through the traited silver head of hair that was dipped between your flushed thighs, trembling with your building pleasure, with a hold to anchor him between.

“Aegon, my gods…”

And then Aegon broke for a moment of air, pulling from your grasp and your hands trailed the planes of his chest to his abdomen; his mouth and chin glistened with your pleasure, and his hooded eyes fell to Aemond for a moment.

You did not follow his gaze. “Aegon?”

Aemond felt the blood rush to his cheeks, to his cock, and he took a soft step backwards while Aegon held his steady stare, bringing his fingers to wipe his face and suck lewdly on his digits. “Sweet girl,” he cooed, his gaze dropping to admire your flushed features, “I wish you to come on my cock.”

Before you could protest, his large palms wrapped around your wrists, pulling you towards him. “Do not take your eyes off of me,” his lips pressed to yours, bringing you towards his chest to straddle him, your plush thighs caging his lap. His hot mouth captured your nipple, his tongue tracing your areola with a familiarity that caused you to cry out.

“Aegon, please,” you panted, trying to squirm and feeling his girth against the slick of your cunt. His large palms grasped the softness of your hips, pulling you closer until his arms could wrap around your waist, his lips following the curve of your chest and licking the column of your neck, placing a noisy kiss to the underside of your jaw. “Aegon, you cannot mark me, what if it is seen–?”

“Let them see,” his voice was dark, his hand dipping between and lining the flushed head of his cock to press into your entrance, wet and wanting from your prior peaks of the night. “Let them hear you,” his command was husky.

Pitiful sounds poured from your lips as you lowered onto him, an indescribable fullness as he stretched your velvet walls. Your eyes fluttered into the back of your head, your hands coming to bite into his broad shoulders and hold yourself upright, still flushed against his chest.

Aegon kept his hold on your waist, his palms pressed onto your skin, his lips ghosted the junction of your neck to your shoulder and you giggled from the sensation. “Your king commands you to stop clenching,” he hissed and you felt the hot exhale of his low voice

You giggled again, finding his lips for a kiss, your tongue curling in his mouth to taste him, to taste yourself. “Forgive me, my king,” you whispered, meeting with his eyes, the violet almost completely swallowed by his blown out pupils; your lips curled upwards with the slow roll of your hips against him.

It was his turn for his eyes to disappear into his skull, with a low, guttural groan in response to the pace you set, and the lewds sounds that accompanied the sensual movement. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he dipped his head forward to press his lips against your breast, leaving welts that flushed dark against your skin, his teeth dragging to the other with the same assault of his mouth.

You gasped at the sensation, with how it spilled into your bloodstream, coursing to the ends and fluttering back to the coil that tightened in your lower abdomen. You were slick between, your legs burned with the motion and, as if he could read your mind, did his grip tightened and Aegon met with a relentless pace, his hips rutting upwards into you.

“I will only forgive you,” he was breathless with his unrelenting tempo, “if you come undone.”

“Aegon,” you gasped, the flashes of color that sparked in front of your eyes and the tears that pearled in the corners, “I am so close.”

“Touch yourself,” his voice was thick with the command and your hand pulled away, your fingers trailing his shoulder blade and coming around to follow his collarbone; Aegon dipped his head again, capturing your fingers in his mouth, his tongue wettening the pads before it fell between and pressed against the bloom of bundled nerves above.

Your cries echoed the room, already so close to the precipice and your own touch is what pushed you over with a rush of blood towards your heart and your cunt, the coil bursting within and the pleasure unfurling, pressing against your seams. It was if you were drowning in this sense of bliss, something all-consuming as his thick member pulsed inside your cunt and you clenched in response, a vice, and still so very unaware.

Aegon, however, held you close, his cheeks ruddy and eyes still dark as they looked past and towards Aemond, watching how his neck bobbed when he swallowed before falling another step backwards and disappearing where he came from, the entrance closing quietly behind.

He moved towards his chambers, his palm adjusting the crotch of his slacks, his long gait to remove him. They had not married for love, and he always knew this; it was hopeful–it was foolish to think it could grow beyond the duty that was expected of them.

And as he had done for Aegon, it was returned; in the end, all that mattered was that the blood of the dragon would thrive still.

arcie's masterlist

#hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon x reader #aegon x you #and you told me I should concentrate

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snowsonlylove · 3 months

Note

hii!! i commented about making a fic of coryo w or about the song haunted by beyonce, i was thinking maybe something smut if ur comfortable! if not its okay but the fic could be academy!coriolanus x academy!reader and theyre school rivals both working hard to beat each other and theyre obsessed with each other but they hide it with the fact they wanna win but they j wanna fuck (or get together) maybe theyre both possessive and jealous or coryo is the one thats really extra with it,, the story could go rlly slow too and then theres just a part where the facade and tension goes away and theyre needing each other so badly at that moment rushing everything, just like how the song goes idk if i made any sense :o im so excited to see the result!! this song just gives me coriolanus vibes

You Must Be Haunting Me..

a/n note: hii!! yes, i loved your idea and i mostly stayed with your vision, only changing some minor things so the situation makes sense and dw i managed to deliver 🫡 hopefully you like it!! tysm for your idea and i look forward to seeing if there are some things you want to expand on (maybe with little blurbs on this dynamic bc i absolutely LOVE this trope!) & i'm totally comfortable with smut so dw about sending me kinky asks or requests. i totally accept them!!

Pairing: Academy!Coriolanus Snow x AcademyRival!Reader

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow have been academic rivals ever since the beginning of their journey in the Academy. It’s no secret that both Y/N and Coriolanus are the two top students of the Academy, both of them only being able to beat each other, the rest are just no competition for them. However, they genuinely have no idea why they're doing this constant battle against each other. Little did they know, both of them always think about each other behind closed doors and are obsessed with each other, each equally impressed at the other at how intelligent they are. One day, things just boil over with how Coriolanus constantly riles Y/N up and they explode in a huge fight which results in a turmoil of deep, rough and passionate sex.

Fic Type: Smut (NSFW) 18+, Enemies to Lovers trope, dramatic behaviour from both of them, a wee bit of angst (mostly derived from the name-calling but in my head this is more funny than it is angsty 😭😭😭)

Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this guys, use a condom. reader is on birth control), rough pushing, harsh words used from both Y/N and Coriolanus, degradation (use of whore), cunnilingus (female receiving), squirting, lmk if i missed anything else

Word Count: 2k

I do not own Coriolanus Snow or Y/N Y/L/N (cuz it’s you, boo). All credits go to Suzanne Collins and her team. Song credits also go to Beyonce and her team.

I do not allow my works to be republished or translated under any circumstances. Any instances of this happening and YOU WILL BE BLOCKEDDD.

Also, ageless and empty blogs will be BLOCKED as this is a 18+ fic. Report my fics and you’re blocked cuz if u don’t like it, LEAVEEEE.

Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow began this disastrous journey from the age of 11-12. Both students entered the Academy with an air of poise and elitism about them as they knew what it took to defeat the competition in the Academy, most students not even being a possible candidate to them. It was all fine and well, until one year, Y/N and Coriolanus were put in the same class for the year, and the rivalry then started..

The first assignment of that year was an individual project on what each student thought the Capitol looked like during its earliest times. Each student was tasked with coming up with a drawing with their thoughts on said topic. This was their chance to go up against each other. Both Y/N and Coriolanus would stay up in the library after school and collect piles of books and do their research and by the time the task was due, Y/N and Coriolanus obviously submitted the best sketches.

After acknowledging this, the professor asked the class to vote for who’s sketch was the best. Small pieces of paper were given out to write either Y/N’s and Coriolanus’s names and as the professor then collected the papers, making both students anxious. As the professor counted the votes, Y/N’s heart was beating out of her chest, Coriolanus’s as well. It was then announced that Y/N won, which made Coriolanus furious as he spewed a full speech on how much he hated her. “You’d never be as good as what they say you are. You’re just dirt under my feet. God! You’re such a bitch!” He screamed as the professor and the class started at him in astonishment as they’ve never seen him lash out before.

Y/N was heartbroken when she heard this as sometimes when Coriolanus wasn’t looking, Y/N would sneak glances towards him and she started to be enamoured by him. Their time together after hours in the library would usually end up in them having conversations about their day and this time together helped them bond better. With this in mind, Y/N truly thought Coriolanus was at least civil enough to be respectful towards her. Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes as she ran out of the classroom, the professor telling her to wait.

Coriolanus, still blind with rage, kept on screaming and yelling obscenities about Y/N as he stormed off to his seat, his face red and his whole demeanour fueling with rage. Unfortunately, this fateful day was what started the vicious rivalry between Y/N and Coriolanus as the two would fight over who got the better grades, which teacher favoured which student more, the differences in their scores in each assignment every single day.

As of current, both Y/N and Coriolanus are 18 and in the midst of graduating. One of their last assignments was unfortunately a pair assignment. Dr Gaul once scoped out the Academy and witnessed one of the fights between Y/N and Coriolanus and she noticed how by getting them near each other, she could make them into the power couple of Panem and have them continue the Hunger Games, which inspired her to whisper in the ear of Dean Highbottom to get them to be in the same class and for them to share a table together until they graduated. Both Y/N and Coriolanus were very unhappy about this, both choosing to ignore each other while they were in their seats.

With both of them getting older, both Y/N and Coriolanus started noticing certain things about them. Coriolanus noticed how Y/N’s facial features were more prominent, how her ass got bigger, her breasts more plump, making him unable to control a certain urge at times which led him to mastrubate thinking about her sometimes. Y/N also noticed a few things about Coriolanus. How he started to grow muscles, how they cling to his academy uniform whenever he took off his academy jacket, how his jaw was sharper, how his nose was becoming more emphasised, how he lost his baby fat. She can honestly go forever and forever about how attractive he is.

That being said, there was one particular day where everything just blew over the water. Y/N and Coriolanus were taking notes during Dean Highbottom’s lecture when Y/N felt Coriolanus’s elbow dig into her arms whenever they got to writing. This obviously made Y/N frustrated as she harshly whispered to Coriolanus to stop a few times, which led to a hushed debate between the two before it grew louder and louder until they were screaming at each other, making the whole class look at them and Dean Highbottom staring at them in shock before yelling for them to stop and stay after class for detention.

Both Y/N and Coriolanus felt embarrassed as they were lectured by Dean Highbottom after class before an assistant of Dean Highbottom requested him to join Dr Gaul for a meeting about the Hunger Games. Dean Highbottom sighed as he looked at the two young teenagers, “Look.. I feel that you two are now old enough to know what is acceptable behaviour in class. I’ll be back soon, do not kill each other while I’m gone.” As Highbottom left the classroom, the tense atmosphere began to build as the door closed behind him.

Almost immediately after he left, Y/N and Coriolanus stared at each other with the most hateful expression ever. Y/N menacingly glared at him while saying with gritted teeth, “See, Coriolanus! If you’re long ass elbow didn’t fucking dig in my arm every single time, that old fart wouldn’t lecture us for one fucking hour! My god, you’re truly dumb!” Coriolanus glared at her before stating, “It’s not my fucking fault that happened with you were taking over the whole goddamn table with your arms everywhere! Geez, Y/N! I thought you’d be more modest!”

Y/N looked at him, shocked, “ME?!! You’re blaming ME for something YOU did! That is so fucking misogynistic coming from you, a man! I swear to god, this is discrimination towards women at its core! Grow the fuck up, Coriolanus! We’re not children anymore! God! I’d be spending my time with Sejanus right now if it weren’t for your stubborn ass!” Y/N huffed while rolling her eyes. Coriolanus stared at her, his face full of jealousy before gritting out, “Sejanus? What the fuck are you doing with Sejanus?! You’re such a fucking whore! Ugh, you’re such a bitch!” Y/N looked at him, offended, “Bitch, weren’t you just fucking Clemensia a few weeks ago? Yeah, I heard about that! Everyone was practically talking about it! Don’t pretend to be so innocent, Coriolanus!”

Coriolanus looked at her, his expression turned dark as he stalked towards her, her taking a step back until her back had hit the wall. Coriolanus leaned towards her, lifting one of his arms to go above her, bringing the other hand towards her chin and lifting it. At this point, the height difference became very apparent as her head was tipped far back, her still glaring at him. “Are you baiting me, Y/N? You talk so much for someone who just fucked Felix Ravinstill of all people a few days ago..” Y/N continued to glare up at him, “At least I had the decency to keep it in my pants longer than you! God, I hate you!” Coriolanus looked taken aback as he muttered while leaning in to cup her cheeks, her face wiggling to be let out of his grip, “Well, I hate you too, sweetheart…”

Coriolanus leaned in as he captured Y/N’s lips with his, their mouths fighting for dominance as they kissed each other as if they needed each other to breathe. The previous tension broke into a more sensual type of tension as Coriolanus wrapped his hands around her hair ravenously while Y/N’s hand made friends with the back of his neck. One of Coriolanus’s hands found its way to Y/N’s waist as he dragged her away from the wall, pushing her towards a nearby desk before propping her up on the desk and spreading her legs, allowing him to be closer to her, not once breaking their kiss. Y/N broke their kiss as she moved her lips to Coriolanus’s neck and trailed them down his Adam’s apple while taking off his blazer and unbuttoning his shirt, Coriolanus doing the same to her.

As they undressed each other, they continued to slide their tongues against each other, the sound echoing around the classroom. They managed to undress each other down to them both only wearing underwear before Coriolanus kneeled down so that he was face to face with the apex of her thighs. Coriolanus leaned in and captured his teeth to her underwear as he slowly pulled it down, revealing her aching, dripping pussy. Coriolanus licked his lips as he roughly shoved two fingers in her cavern as he curled his fingers in and out her folds, creating a beautiful sensation as he found her G-spot with no difficulty.

Y/N moaned as she threw her head back and slid her hands down to Coriolanus’s hair and tugged on it while pulling him closer to her heat. “Oh my gosh.. Coryo, it feels so good…” As he kept pumping his fingers in and out of her, he suddenly attached his lips onto her clit as he sucked on her clit and pumped his fingers harder, each movement feeling more and more intense for Y/N. He kept on going as he curled his fingers one final time, which made Y/N yell out as she squirted and covered his fingers with her wetness.

Y/N sighed in satisfaction as she helped Coriolanus up and gave him a deep, passionate kiss while tugging down his underwear and hooking her legs on the bottom of his back, Coriolanus leaned in closer as he aligned his erection with her heat, tapping his dick on her clit a few times before pushing his hardness in her heat. He only pushed in half of it when Y/N suddenly exclaimed, “Coryo, it’s too much! I can’t take all of it!”

Coriolanus leaned down so his forehead was laying against hers before whispering in a comforting tone, “It will fit, Y/N. Trust me, trust me..” He closed his eyes as he leaned in to capture her lips with his as he pushed in slower this time, now being able to fill her pussy with his cock to the point where their hips were against each other. Coriolanus groaned as he slowly pulled out before thrusting in again, “Fuck, Y/N… You’re so good. Such a good girl..”

Y/N moaned at hearing him praise her as he started to thrust his dick in faster, each time harder and rougher than the last. The room started to echo with the sound of her moaning, his groaning and the sound of skin slapping. Y/N closed her eyes as she moaned, her mouth forming an “O” shape as she threw her head back once more and arched her back, needing to feel closer to him. Coriolanus wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her in closer and kissed his way all around her neck, leaving furious red hickeys which would soon turn purple.

The pace in which he was fucking her got rougher each time he would thrust his aching hard dick into her dripping pussy, the slapping sound really turning them on and his balls slapped to her ass, their moans becoming louder and louder each time. The furious force in which he was fucking her started to reach a boiling point as Coriolanus moaned, “Ugh.. I’m fucking cumming, Y/N. Oh.. You’re such a good girl. Such a tight and wet pussy..”

“Ohh.. Coriolanus… So good, so deep… I’m gonna come, gonna come.. OH MY GODD!!” Y/N screamed as she came. Coriolanus groaned as he came inside her, sighing as he tried to bask in the afterglow of his orgasm, holding Y/N tight against his chest in the process. Y/N left kisses and hickeys around his neck as she looked up at him with a dazed but satisfied expression and kissed his lips however, this time the kiss shared between them wasn’t one full of hate, it was one full of love.

As they pulled away from each other and started to get dressed, Coriolanus faced Y/N and said, “You know, if you wanted to fuck me, you could’ve said so.” He said with a smirk. Y/N turned to look at him, acting shocked as she huffed in feign frustration, “Oh shut up, Coriolanus!” She smacked his chest as both of them gave each other a silly grin before hurling in laughter.

#academy!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow angst

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mulletmitsuya · 4 months

Text

Toman groupchat

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, mentions of poop, mentions of homophobia (joke), mentions of men getting pregnant

Desc: here the boys discuss whether men can get pregnant or not and other shenanigans. this also very fucking stupid

Mikey: i just took the biggest shit

Mikey: you guys will not believe the sheer size of this thing like it's as big as my forearm

Mikey: makes me wonder how women give birth

Kazutora: ?

Draken: keep this shit to yourself what the hell is wrong with you

Mikey: how can i keep this shit to myself when i've already flushed it down the toilet🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Mitsuya: what does you shitting have to do with women giving birth?

Mitsuya: never mind shouldn't have asked

Mikey: well the poop tore my butt up so imagine what babies do to vaginas

Baji: this is why i'm never giving birth. looks too hard

Draken: ...you're not a candidate to do so? you're male?

Baji: what does my gender have to do with giving birth

Draken: it has everything to do with it??? what are you talking about

Baji: wow didn't know you guys were so sexist

Chifuyu: Baji-san, gender and sex are two different things...

Baji: ?

Chifuyu: sex is your chromosomes and basically what you were born with and gender is what you identify as. so since you're male, you don't have the reproductive organs to get pregnant and have a child. only female bodied people can.

Smiley: bro you're 17 how the fuck do you not know this

Baji: never been good at biology

Smiley: you don't have to be good at it to know you can't get pregnant💀

Baji: so men can't get pregnant?

Chifuyu: well if someone born as a female transitions into a man, then gets pregnant, we can pretty much say that men can get pregnant

Baji: so men can get pregnant but not males?

Chifuyu: yeah i guess

Baji: interesting

Baji: i don't think anyone's tried hard enough

Baji: i'll get a male pregnant one day, watch

Mitsuya: wtf

Draken: is the biology lesson over?

Mikey: my ass still hurts i think i'll need ointment

Kazutora: why r u reporting this to us

Mikey: you guys are my friends

Mitsuya: no ones wants to know about your bowel movements

Baji: why do you always wanna sound smart Mitsuya. just say shit or shitting

Smiley: watch, next time he'll say defecation

Chifuyu: excretion

Mikey: excrement

Kazutora: fecal matter

Draken: guys what the fuck can we not talk about this? it's fucking gross

Baji: oho here comes the fucking poop police

Kazutora: instead of his siren going "wee woo wee woo" it probably goes "pee poo pee poo" lmao

Mikey: LMAO😭

Draken: what are you a bunch of 5 year olds??

Baji: we're 17

Draken: 😐

Mitsuya: can we change the subject? christ

Smiley: i did crack for the first time yesterday. shit was crazy

Mikey: YOU DO DRUGS???? BRO

Baji: yo Nahoya what the fuck

Draken: we're not supposed to do drugs

Smiley: who's we?? i'm doing them not you🤨??

Draken: and what's Angry gonna think?

Smiley: he doesn't need to know. and i did it to impress a girl so chill it's not a regular thing

Mikey: why would you try and impress a girl with doing crack?

Smiley: she's a drug addict

Smiley: but the sex was fire tho even though she tried to kill me halfway through

Mikey: YOU'RE HAVING SEX??

Kazutora: that's not fair☹️

Kazutora: where are you meeting women?

Smiley: outside

Kazutora: oh

Draken: why did she try to kill you?

Smiley: halfway through she started choking the shit outta me while she was on top and i almost died but also it was the best nut i've ever experienced so it's a win win

Mikey: that doesn't sound appealing at all😭

Draken: that sounds like assault actually

Smiley: idgaf a beautiful woman can do whatever she wants with me and if she wants to kill me then so be it (i'm a feminist)

Mitsuya: yeah but like, she should have asked

Smiley: we were both high off our rockers

Draken: yeah i feel like she should have asked you so you could have developed a healthy sex dynamic where you both share each other kinks before hand

Baji: oho here comes the fucking sex police

Kazutora: this time the siren would be men whimpering

Chifuyu: why men?

Kazutora: i don't think Draken would use women moaning cause of how the brothel might have traumatized him i think and he respects women too much

Kazutora: also he's gay

Draken: fuck off i'm not

Draken: and Baji say something else i dare you

Baji: what are you gonna do? have sex with me?

Smiley: you're all taking this way too seriously😁

Baji: with what Kazutora said, i'ma start blasting whimpering audios when i get a car

Mitsuya: i'm pretty sure that's illegal or something

Smiley: dawg no one wants to hear that

Baji: who wouldn't want to hear men whimpering?

Baji: especially the high pitched ones

Baji: cause you can associate them with twinks

Baji: with dual coloured hair, jingly earnings and large unsettling eyes

Baji: and maybe even a blonde with an undercut and big blue cow eyes

Kazutora: Baji what are you on about

Chifuyu: wait are you being serious or is this a joke Baji-san 😂😂😂😂

Draken: uhh

Smiley: i keep hoping you being gay is a joke but then you say shit like this

Baji: why

Smiley: i'm not fond of gay people

Baji: homophobia's got you missing out on some good head

Draken: we support and respect all identies, Smiley. don't make this a problem

Smiley: i'll ask again, WHO'S WE?

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers manga #tokrev #tokyo revengers smau #tokyo revengers texts #tokyo revengers groupchat #toman #tokyo manji gang #sano manjiro/mikey #ryuguji ken/draken #matsuno chifuyu #baji keisuke #mitsuya takashi #hanemiya kazutora #kawata nahoya/smiley #i didn't know how to end this😭#also idk if i gave all the appropriate warnings so if i didn't lmk #and i made this when i was on that zaza #it's pretty evident

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oonajaeadira · 1 year

Text

Nadie Espera un Milagro (No One Expects a Miracle)

Fandom: Narcos / Javier Peña

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

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

Rating: T

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

“Sullivan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yup.”

“Uh….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

��Hey.”

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

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

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

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

“That sounds like a hillbilly name.”

“Yep.” ________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mother–!”

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

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

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

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

What.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom–”

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

Her delight is evident. “Oh wonderful!”

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

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

Honey…bunny? Honeybun–

Fuck.

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

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

“I’m going to kill you.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll come hungry!” _____

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

“Good to meet you, Javi.”

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

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

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

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

“That’s for sure.”

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

“Thank you, sweetheart,” hums your father.

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

But oh, he came to play.

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

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

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

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

“Mom! Could you not–”

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

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

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

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

“I know! The cabinet behind the door!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His nod hangs silent and sorry between you.

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

The embarrassment burns.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome.”

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

“What’s this?”

“Leftovers. Lunch. Enjoy.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“You’d better.”

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

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

Dammit.

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

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

Of course.

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

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

________

“Soooooo, how’d you two meeeeet?”

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

“At work, Mom. Obviously at work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a favorite place ever since.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart trips over his words. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

You’ve lost count of your yawns.

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

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

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

But the eyes you meet are blue.

“Hi, Jimmy.”

“Well hey there. Mind if I join you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you think it’s hot?”

“Yeah, Jimmy. It’s hot.” _______

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I meant all of it, Sully.”

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

Rose. And cigarettes.

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

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

Oh.

Oh. Not just that part.

All of it.

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

Suddenly you understand what was keeping you awake last night.

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

All of it.

You just thanked him and walked away.

He’s been…this whole time…he’s…

“Darling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. No need. He does.”

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

Good. Maybe you can get some work done.

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

You know where I live.

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

If you can just shut it all out and concentrate.

And try not to expect too much. ________

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom. Dad. How…how did you get in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Shit.

Wait. What?

Fuck.

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

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

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

Not good enough.

“Javi’s not my boyfriend, Mom.”

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

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

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

Why do you feel….caught?

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

But if everything he said was true…

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

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

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

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

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

Your mother huffs. “I do now.”

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

“Are you flying out tomorrow morning or afternoon?”

“Tomorrow morning, sweetheart.”

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

“We have a dinner scheduled with the ambassador.”

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

“Yes, dear.”

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

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

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

Or maybe he didn’t really forget.

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

“Thanks, Dad. It’s good to hear.”

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

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

“I will.”

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

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

“Hey.”

“You heard all of that?”

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

“You mind if I smoke?”

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

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

You open your eyes to ice water.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said a nap, Peña.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

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

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sydsaint · 5 months

Text

Daddy's Home!!!!!!

Summary: Things are looking bleak for the reader when she's facing The Bloodline alone. Luckily for her, a certain someone is about to make a comeback. And he's looking for allies against The Bloodline.

Another week on Raw and another week struggling to keep afloat with The Bloodline constantly trying to force you into their group.

"Bayley wait! Come on, don't leave me out here!" You plead with your opponent who's just pulled a win from out under you.

"Sorry, Y/N." Bayley shrugs as she passes you. "But I'm not getting involved in this." She purses her lips into a line and walks off.

You pull yourself off the mat, body shaking from being overexerted in your match. You huff out quick breaths and struggle to your feet, knowing that Jimmy and Solo will soon show up.

Sure enough, Jimmy's music hits and he descends the ramp with Solo at his side. You make it to your feet but have to force yourself to stop and catch your breath.

"Y/N! Tough loss, baby." Jimmy hops onto the apron cooing at you. "See, this is why you need us! We can make sure you ain't ever lose again." He insists as he passes through the ropes.

"How many times do I have to tell you no?" You growl, still leaning on the ring ropes for support.

Jimmy makes his way across the ring toward you while Solo comes around to stand on the floor below you. You're trapped once again.

"Simple, shorty. Until you decide to join us, we always gonna be here for you." Jimmy explains with a grin. "It's up to you how long this goes on for."

You groan and prepare for another tiring 10-minute argument. Your body aches from your match with Bayley and finally giving in crosses your mind for a split second. Working for Roman can't be that bad right?

Just when you're about to maybe give in and agree to Roman's terms, Randy Orton's music blasts through the arena speakers. You knew that Orton made a comeback over the weekend. But why the in hell he's out here now, you don't know.

Jimmy turns around sharply as Randy makes a B-line for the ring. Randy disposes of Jimmy with ease and sends him packing. Solo retreats for the moment and joins Jimmy at the top of the ramp.

"Hey, you alright?" Randy walks over to you once Jimmy and Solo are gone.

"Yeah, thanks." You nod, slowly regaining your strength. "Sorry, do you mind parting the ring ropes for me? My knees are killing me." You ask sheepishly.

Randy nods and parts the ring ropes for you. You carefully slip through them and head down the stairs and up the ramp. Randy hops down from the apron and walks backstage with you.

"So, what are Jimmy and Solo so interested in you for?" Randy casually asks as you walk with him. "Old boyfriend or something?"

"No, nothing like that." You sneer at the idea. "Roman wants someone female to join his idiotic little group. And apparently, I'm his prime candidate." You explain.

Randy nods and directs you over to where a couple of trainers are waiting to check you out. "Right. And I'm assuming that you don't want anything to do with them?" He asks you.

"Not in the slightest." You shake your head. "Why?" You turn to him curiously.

Randy shrugs and steps back a bit so the trainers can get to your side. "We can talk more about it later. You should go ahead and get looked at." He gestures to the trainers. "How about we meet up after the show?" He suggests.

"Yeah, okay." You nod. "I'll meet up with you backstage later."

Randy nods and walks off so you are alone with the trainers. They look you over and determine that you tweaked your knee during your match with Bayley. But other than that and some general fatigue, you're in perfect health. You head back to your locker room for a quick rinse and change.

When you get back to your locker room Shotzi is there waiting for you.

"Hey, Shotzi." You greet your odd friend as you come through the door.

"Y/N! I am so sorry I didn't come out to help you!" Shotzi jumps up and attacks you in a hug. "I was in a photoshoot and didn't find out until like 5 minutes ago." She explains.

You smile and hug her back tightly before pushing her off you. "It's alright, Shotzi." You assure her. "I actually got some help from someone else." A small grin plays on your face.

"I know!" Shotzi squeals. "Randy Orton helping you out with Jimmy and Solo? What was that all about?" She teases you.

"I have no clue." You shrug. "But he asked to meet up with me after the show." You add. "Which is why I so need to shower."

Shotzi's mouth hangs open as she's being her usual over-the-top self. "Oh my gosh! Y/N, girl. What is with you and attracting all the dllfs around here?" She asks you. "I mean, Roman? Then I so saw LA Knight checking you out at the airport earlier today. And now, Randy Orton?"

"I have no idea." You shrug. "Maybe I'm just that irresistible." You joke with a laugh before disappearing to shower. You have a quick shower and find Shotzi gone when you come back out to the locker room. Assuming that she had something else to do and you'll see her again at the hotel later, you get changed and head out.

You barely make it to the backstage area when you spot Randy hanging out waiting for you. Slinging your back over your shoulder, you make your way over to him.

"Hey, Randy." You wave to Orton nervously.

"Y/N, hey. Thanks for meeting me." Randy waves back at you. "How are you? Everything goes alright with the trainers?" He asks you.

You nod and blush over the fact that Orton is taking an interest in your well-being. "Yeah, just a tweaked knee is all." You assure him. "So, what did you want to talk about?" You ask him.

"It's about The Bloodline." Randy briefly explains. "I'm sure you probably know that it was them who put me out for so long?" He asks you.

"Yeah, I remember." You nod. "It was brutal, man."

Randy's jaw twitches at the memory and he nods. "Well, I'm back now. And It's time that I took some revenge." He explains in a stern tone. "And I'd like your help. If you're willing." He adds.

"You want my help?" You point to yourself in surprise. "Why me?" You can't help but ask.

Randy shrugs again, his gaze falling on you rather than darting randomly around the room like it has been. "You've already got a problem with them." He reminds you. "Plus I've seen you in the ring before. You're one hell of a competitor. Which is probably why Roman is so adamant about recruiting you." He adds.

"Thanks." You bite the inside of your lip.

"I'm going to need backup if I'm going to do this," Randy explains further. "And you seemed like the best choice. So, what do you think, Y/N? You in?" He asks you.

You remain silent for a moment and mull over your options. You can almost hear Shotzi screaming at you to take the offer. And frankly, you'd be delusional to turn it down.

"Yeah, I'm in." You take a deep breath for giving Randy an answer.

Randy nods and retrieves his phone from his pocket. You watch him unlock it before handing it to you. "Great. Put your number in there and we'll talk more later." He explains. "Right now I've got some work stuff to do. But we'll catch up soon, alright?"

"Yeah, alright." You nod and put your number into Randy's phone.

Randy takes his phone back and walks off. You remain in place and try to process everything that's just happened to you. One thing you do know for sure though. Shotzi is going to FREAK when you tell her.

#wrestling #wwe fandom #wwe fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wrestling fanfic #wwe fic #randy orton #randy orton x reader #wwe #daddys home

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din-miller · 7 months

Text

We’re Stronger Together

Pairing: Reader + The Bad Batch (Platonic)

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: It was an unspoken rule; you don’t go on solo missions. But when Rex asked you to aid him in taking down a slave ring, you agreed. The Batch takes an issue with that. Especially when you came back smelling strongly of foul men leaving Hunter to struggle with his heightened senses. The only way to fix that is a giant bantha pile.

Warnings: set after S2, tech is alive, harm to children mentioned, slavery mentioned, non-consensual touching mentioned, (none of which are graphic), protective batch, no romance between reader and the batch, platonic cuddling, so much sibling-relationship content, bantha pile > puppy pile, keldable kisses, female reader

You can’t remember the last time you’ve gone on a solo mission or at least a mission where the Batch hadn’t been involved. You had joined them after Order 66 and wherever they went, you went and vice versa.

Inseparable, the lot of you.

Which is why you’re here, chewing your bottom lip nervously as you watch the argument unfold in front of you. Rex said something rational and Hunter glared, then Echo huffed at Hunter’s behaviour but made no move to step in to defend Rex who's three seconds away from throwing his hands up in frustration, “Look boys, I only need her for a couple days, a week max.”

“That’s not happening.”

Honestly, Rex should’ve seen this argument coming and prepared a better speech.

“Yeah, I kinda agree with Sarge. I don’t like it.” Wrecker rubbed the back of his head, looking a tad lost. He’s never been good at picking sides during arguments and you feel bad for him.

“It’s a simple mission, boys. She’ll be in my line of sight at all times.”

“Armed,” All eyes turned to Crosshair, whose head was turned away from them, seemingly unperturbed by the whole situation. When Rex went to speak, Crosshair sneered, “That wasn’t a question.”

“We might consider it once you tell us why you need her.” Echo said, addressing the eldest clone.

“The mission requires more of a…,” Rex trailed off, trying to find the right words that won’t get him shot, “Feminine touch.”

“Absolutely not,” Hunter pushed himself to stand between you and Rex, blocking the older clone’s view of you, “Find someone else.”

“I can do it!” Omega bravely offered, “I can be feminine.”

“No!” Came a chorus of shouts causing Omega to shrink in on herself before Wrecker pulled her into his side with an apology. Hunter ran a tired hand down his face, giving his own apology to the young girl.

“As much as I appreciate your concerns, it’s my decision.” You looked over at Tech for help. Out of all of them, he’ll be the one to back you up.

Tech nodded in your direction, stepping in to join the conversation, “While I don’t particularly agree with one of us being separated, I can see logic in Rex’s thinking-,”

Wreck sent him a look of disbelief, “How?!”

“-If the goal is to distract the target with a certain female attractiveness, I do believe she’s the best candidate for the role.”

“There was never any doubt about that,” Echo stated, “The issue is that we don’t split up. Any of us. Not after Mount Tantiss.”

Omega nodded in agreement, her mouth twisting down at the mention of Mount Tantiss, “Echo’s right. We stick together.”

Tech adjusted his goggles, avoiding eye contact, “As I said, I do not agree with her going with Rex by herself, but we can not stop her from choosing to aid in this mission. The best we can do is offer our support.”

“Thank you Tech. Look, I’ll take my viroblade with me,” You promised them, moving to Rex’s side, “I’ll be fine guys. I was on my own for years before I met you, I know how to handle a few scumbags.”

“You’re not on your own anymore,” Hunter reminded you, before letting out a defeated sigh, “You will be contacting us every chance you get, you’ll report any injuries to Tech or Echo; I don’t care if Rex’s crew has an all-star medic on board, you comm us.”

“Yes, Sarge. Anything else?”

“You’ll take my blade with you, it’s sharper than yours. You will be getting a crash course in disarming bombs with Wrecker before you leave and most importantly; you will be coming home.”

You look down at the kid who’s nodding along to Hunter’s words, a serious look plastered on her face. You feel a twinge of guilt settled in your chest, but from what Rex has told you about the mission you’re not backing down no matter how crestfallen Wrecker looks.

You attempt a reassuring smile, most likely failing as that guilt shows clear as day despite your best shot at playing it cool. You promised nonetheless, “I’ll be back before Wrecker’s able to pronounce ‘worcestershire’.”

“Hey!” Wrecker cried, but a bright smile took over his previous expression and that twinge inside your chest starts to fade away.

Truth be told, a part of you yearns for this mission. To stretch your feet, to use your muscles and brains outside of your normal mundane life on Pabu. To feel useful in a more powerful way. You also understand why your boys’ are so reluctant to let you leave. To do this mission when they’ve all turned Rex down time and time again.

Hunter’s thirst for battle quickly died out when he watched how Omega thrived in her new life. At the peace she is now able to have, away from bloodshed.

Wrecker’s able to use his strength to help the town folk. Lifting crates, furniture, bags of soil and sand. He’s also taken up construction. He’s able to burn energy without bloodshed.

Tech was never one for battle and after Mount Tantiss, he was more than willing to settle on Pabu. To accept Phee’s dinner invitation. Then the key to her place. One day you hope he’ll accept the ring Phee has tucked away. A loving marriage away from bloodshed.

Echo was the one who adjusted the hardest. Whenever Rex required his help on a mission Echo was always on the front line. But one day you watched him emerge from his room, eyes red and swollen. Another sleepless night and you know he’s done with all the bloodshed.

You don’t ask, you don’t have too. You were there, you remember all of it. You remember Echo’s disbelief over your comm as he said he found Tech. You remember running into the room, seeing Tech floating inside a tube, dead bodies scattered across the floor. You remember Echo’s hand laying flat over the glass that separated him from Tech. You remember the bloody handprint left behind when Echo turned to you.

Most of all you remember the scream that rattled the walls around you. You remember how Echo’s mouth parted, Crosshair’s name falling from his lips before he’s racing down the hallway, metal legs creaking at the strain he’s putting on them.

You remember the crying, the begging, that left Crosshair’s mouth, so broken and scared, as Dr. Hemlock held a blade in his hand and Omega’s still body on the medical table beneath him. You remember the smell of blood, how the red of it dripped onto the floor.

You remember the sound of a blaster fire, a body hitting the floor. You remember Echo desperately trying to hold Omega’s stomach together as he cauterised her skin knowing there’s no time for stitches or bacta patches.

You remember it all so kriffing vividly that the crate you had been moving falls from your grip, dropping loudly to the ships metal floor beneath you, the noise drowning out your gasp as the air around you thins and your lungs ache for steady breaths.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Your head snapped up in Rex’s direction, eyes widening when you spotted the clone trying to bypass Rex and enter the ship, “Crosshair?”

The sniper doesn’t acknowledge you. Instead his attention is solely on the older clone, “You’re sending her into a cantina full of powerful, greedy, vile men who would do anything to have her.”

Rex sighed, “Crosshair-,”

“I understand not wanting the others to be involved, they’re too protective. The second anyone touches her the mission would be ruined and dead bodies make things complicated.”

Rex gave another, deeper sigh, “Your skill sets would prove to be a huge asset to the mission, I’m aware and if I thought you were any different from the rest of them, I would have asked you. I know you Crosshair, you’d be the first to pull the trigger.”

Finally Crosshair’s eyes land in your direction, the subtle pinch of his brow letting you know that the panic that's choking you from the inside is written all over your face. He stared at you, knowingly, “Don’t do this. For your own sake, don’t.”

“The man we’re after is a slave trader. Young kids and helpless women,” You said, although you figured he’s aware of that already, “If you were in my shoes you’d do the same thing. For me, for Omega. Crosshair I need to do this.”

You moved to stand in front of him and you pulled his head down until your foreheads met, an action you’ve only done once before with him. Only this time he’s leaning in instead of pushing you away with a threat of you meeting the barrel of his rifle.

“Take care of the boys and Omega while I’m gone, yeah?”

“I’m not their kriffing babysitter.”

You chuckled and pulled back to meet his gaze, “Take care of yourself too.”

Although the mission only took three days, your body – your soul – is screaming for your family. For their arms around you, their voices reassuring you that you’re okay, that you’re home. That you’re safe.

So when the front door is the only thing that stands between you and them, a weight is lifted from your shoulders. A breath you hadn’t realised you’ve been holding leaves your lungs and you draw in a new one full of relief.

You punched in the house’s code and the green light blinked, lock unlocking. You smiled, opening the door and before you’re fully able to close it behind you, you’re being pushed back against it, Hunter’s face buried in the crook of your neck.

Not exactly the welcome home you’d imagined would be awaiting you.

You looked over at the other boys, hoping to get an explanation. You start with Echo but the clone just leaned back against the couch, a smile on his face. Beside him is Tech; the clone brought a finger up to tap the side of his nose.

Right. You probably reek of–

“Testosterone.” Hunter snarled, and you can feel the way his nose scrunched up at the smell of male hormones on your person.

“Not the welcoming home I expected,” You joked, trying to push Hunter away but the clone didn’t budge, “Come on I can’t smell that badly, I had a shower on Rex’s ship. Seriously Hunter, at least let me enter the house.”

Hunter finally pulled back, eyes still locked in on the flesh on your neck. You try not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, or the smug looks from the others. Hunter tilted your head and you're quick to give him access to the other side of your neck despite your earlier protest. He spared no time diving in, head jerking back instantly, nostrils flailing and he growled, “They touched you.”

The smug look on Echo’s face disappeared instantly and he stepped forward, eyes narrowed in on the back of Hunter’s head like he can see the skin where you had been touched through the clone’s skull.

Hunter pressed you back farther against the door, voice demanding as he asked, “Where else?”

“Hunter-,“

“I won’t ask again.”

The sound of tiny feet racing down the hallway saved you from having to answer, from having to admit that they were right. That you weren’t strong enough for the mission. Not without them. Admitting that would make the phantom feeling of hands on your body too real.

You pushed Hunter away and caught the girl just in time, your name falling from her lips as giggles filled the air when you tickled her side. Behind her Wrecker smiled at you, welcoming you home.

“You’re back! I want to hear all about the mission!” Omega said, jumping out of your arms when you tap on her back. She’s grown so much in the last few years and you’re too exhausted to hold her weight, “Sorry, I’m just excited you’re back home. Are you hurt?”

You’re able to give her a quick shake of your head before that phantom touch across your skin is back and you can’t hide the rise of goosebumps on your arms. Not from Hunter at least. The man studies your body language, breathing in the scent of foul men that lingers on your skin, even after using Rex’s refresher to shower.

“Omega, I want every blanket and pillow in this house brought out here,” Hunter turned to address the biggest clone, “Wrecker, clear all the furniture out of the living room.”

“Oh, you betcha!” Wrecker cheered with a grin, “We haven’t had a good ol’ bantha pile in ages!”

“Bantha pile?” You questioned as you watched the two follow Hunter’s orders.

“Yes, it is when a group of people all sleep and/or cuddle together. It was a way for Hunter to memorise our scents growing up. To help calm him,” Tech informed you, “It’s been awhile since we’ve had one, but given that Hunter is indeed struggling with you not smelling like us, the bantha pile is warranted. I’d even say necessary.”

You nodded. It makes a certain amount of sense but you’re not entirely sure it is warranted. To your knowledge they didn’t do this when Crosshair came back, when Tech was found or when Omega healed from her injuries at the hands of Dr. Hemlock. Or maybe they did and you weren’t there, that they didn’t find it necessary to include you.

No, it’s best not to go down that path. You’re here, your boys are crowded around you as you all await for Omega to return and that’s all that matters.

But Tech has always been able to read you and he awkwardly bumped his shoulder against yours, voice hushed, “You’re part of our alitt. You and Echo were dealing with Sid when Hunter and Wrecker welcomed Crosshair, Omega and myself home. We tried waiting for you but Hunter was struggling. It wasn’t an easy call but it was necessary to proceed without you and Echo.”

You brushed a hand over Tech’s and sent him a smile, “I understand, truly. I shouldn’t have questioned my place with you guys.”

“We won’t allow that to happen ever again, ner vod.” He promised and you believe him.

“I got everything!” Omega announced, bouncing back into the room, her voice muffled behind the mountain of fabric balanced in her arms, which Hunter quickly relieved her of. The young clone looked over at Echo, “I got your heated blanket too. I wasn’t sure if our body heat will be enough to keep you warm through the night. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“I…” Echo blinked, accepting his blanket as he fumbled for words. No matter how long you all have known Omega, the smaller clone always finds ways of surprising her family with her never-ending kindness. Echo cleared his throat, “Thank you, Omega.”

She beamed up at him, brushing off his thanks as she grabbed a handful of pillows to scatter around the living room. Wrecker and Hunter followed behind her with blankets. Eventually the room was approved for a bantha pile by Wrecker’s standards and six bodies started to settle in for the night.

With Hunter against your left side, head buried in your neck, his lips gazing the skin over your pulse point and Wrecker snuggled behind him, Echo moved to claim his spot on your other side as Tech sat cross legged by your lower right leg and Omega’s balanced on your chest leaving just Crosshair left to pick his spot.

“There’s still room.” You pointed out to him, silently hoping he’ll join.

Crosshair looked down at the pile, disgust written all over his face, “Not happening.”

“C’mon brother,” Wrecker patted the empty spot behind him, “You know you want to.”

The sniper may be rough around the edges but he’s not immune to his brothers’ pleas. He’ll cave, you know so.

“Not in the slightest. I’d rather eat glass than be sandwiched between you all.”

“Fine, but you’ll regret it.” Wrecker shrugged, snuggling closer into Hunter’s side, his large arm thrown over the smaller body to rest on your arm.

Crosshair rolled his eyes, “Doubt it.”

Tech glanced up from his datapad, “I have informed Phee that I will be staying another night here,” He looked at you, “She is pleased that you have returned unharmed and has invited you for dinner tomorrow if that is to your liking.”

“Tell her there’s no other place I’d rather be.”

He nodded, “I will inform her immediately, she will be happy to hear so.”

Omega frowned, rifling through the blankets, “Where’s Lula?”

Wrecker’s head shot up, alarmed and you glanced around until you spotted her by the hallway entrance. You pointed Omega to the toy, “You must have dropped her.”

Omega looked over at her brother, eyes wide and childlike, “Crosshair? Can you get her?”

The clone looked at her, then the pile of blankets and pillows that were basically drowning her small frame, before blowing out an annoyed sigh, but he went and got the toy anyway. He carelessly threw it in her direction, which earned a cry of protest from Wrecker. Crosshair rolled his eyes in response before crouching down beside Echo, moving his blanket aside.

The former ARC Trooper’s body stiffened when a pair of hands met his pelvic. Then he flinched away from Crosshair’s touch when the clones fingers found the clasps of his prosthetic legs. You watched slightly puzzled at what was happening.

Crosshair’s fingers froze for a fleeting second before he scowled down at Echo, “Relax Reg, if I have to suffer sleeping here tonight I’m at least going to make sure my nuts stay intact.”

A puff of air met your skin as Hunter grunted, “Language Crosshair, the kids here.”

Omega giggled as she settled comfortably on your chest, “I’m not a kid, Hunter.”

Beside you, Echo flicked his youngest brother’s arm, “I don’t move in my sleep.”

Wrecker let out an loud laugh, “Ha, good one Echo!”

“You could sleep on the other side of the bantha pile,” Echo cocked his head over to where Wrecker is, “Snuggle up behind Wrecker. He doesn’t sweat that much.”

“I’d rather not. Now are you going to let me continue?” Crosshair gestured to the prosthetics.

Echo nodded, moving to make it easier for his brother to reach the clasps, “You better not steal my blanket throughout the night.”

“What are you going to do? Chase me?” Crosshair jeered, but his tone held no malice behind it and Echo for his part just playfully shoved the sniper back until his ass met the floor. Beside you Hunter mumbled something incomprehensible into the crook of your neck while Wrecker and Omega laughed as Crosshair scowled up at them.

Once the prosthetics were removed, Crosshair huddled underneath Echo’s heated blanket with him, keeping enough distance from the clone for it not to be weird. Crosshair’s words, not Echo’s. The latter couldn’t care less, especially when the added warmth helped him sleep soundly.

With them both settled in for the night Tech was able to finally curl himself against your thigh, directly underneath Echo, giving the fact that without the clone’s prosthetics there’s now room for Tech to lie down and be close to you.

“This is… nice.” You said, pulling Echo in closer to your body when he struggled to do so himself without use of his prosthetic legs. His prosthetic arm had been taken off too. Most likely so you don’t get hit by it.

“Aw, yeah it is!” Wrecker’s usual loudness is muffled by Hunter’s shirt and the older clone chuckled at the rough vibration that spread across his back.

Omega propped herself up to rest her head in her hands, her elbows pressing against your chest and you hid the wince when her pointed appendages dug into your sternum.

Her eyes twinkled as they met yours, “We’ve missed you,” She exclaimed, the twinkle in her eyes grew brighter, “Tech barely left the house, Phee brought over food for us but we ended up giving it to the shelter ‘cause Echo went bananas and made enough food for the entire village! And Wrecker built a giant shed in a day! The Unstoppable Machine they called him. Oh and Crosshair slept at the gun range every night. Echo had to bring him food and a pillow and blanket-,”

You blew out a disappointed sigh. Leave it to Crosshair to do the exact opposite of what you said. Taking care of yourself does not equal three nights at the gun range. Crosshair hid his head in Echo’s shoulder shielding himself away from your scowl.

“Hunter wouldn’t leave my side,” Omega continued, “I wasn’t even allowed to sleep over at the Hazards. It’s okay though. Truthfully, I didn’t feel like sleeping away from home anyways.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. You knew they didn’t want you to go but you never really knew how much pain you’re absent brought the six of them.

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered into the silence of the room, “I’m here now and I’m not leaving ever again, I promise.”

Omega held out her hand, little finger up, “Pinky promise?”

You locked your smallest finger around hers and brought them both up to your lips, pressing a delicate kiss to her skin, “To the brightest stars and back.”

Omega was the first to fall asleep, followed quickly by Echo; the warmth of his blanket and your body heat lulled him into a peaceful slumber. Wrecker was next, his snores unnaturally quiet for a man his size. Small blessings, truly.

Tech’s head is pillowed on your thigh, his datapad loosely held in his hand, conversation with Phee most likely cut short by his sleep. Out of all your boys your heart is warmed by him the most. He’s the only one who doesn’t live here, he’s the only one who has spent four nights away from their partner. He’s never once complained about it and you know neither has Phee; she’d let Tech spend a thousand more nights here if that’s what he needs.

Crosshair and Hunter were the last to drift off, their bodies on high alert, tracking any movement that could possibly take you away from them. Crosshair once said that nothing is ever too good to be true, but like most things the sniper’s believed, he’s wrong. Because you’re here for good, and that’s true.

You felt a nudge against your right side and you rolled your eyes fully expecting to get an ear full of Tech’s latest discoveries during your absence but instead you're met with an unreadable expression as Crosshair stared at you.

He doesn’t say anything and he looks more pissed off than before. It’s late and you're tired, physically and emotionally and the last thing you want is an angry clone glaring at you through the night.

“This wasn’t my idea,” You reminded him, tone a little rougher than it probably should be, “But I’m not going to have you ruin it because I need this. I might have only been gone for three days but I was alone for each one and you were here, with the boys’ and Omega.”

He’s silent, eyes sharp almost like he’s studying you. When he does speak it sounds like it’s through gritted teeth, “Where else?”

And, oh

You had been expecting that question from Hunter, maybe even Echo, but not him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against your pillow. Whenever the gentleman got too bold, you were able to direct their attention somewhere other than your body… but sometimes you just weren’t fast enough.

“You were right, the others wouldn’t have been able to sit and watch,” You shifted your eyes back to the sniper, “The man grabbed me, pulled me into his lap and sometimes when I close my eyes, I can feel his breath against my skin and I hate it.”

The arms locked around you tighten, Hunter's head unburing itself from your neck, his breathing falling to the softest puffs against your skin. You honestly should have known that he wouldn’t fully be asleep.

You sighed, pulling Omega closer to your chest, needing to feel her heartbeat, letting it ground you, “Rex was immediately lifting me off of him and using his body as a shield, keeping me out of the man’s sight. What was supposed to be a stealth mission turned into a full blown blaster fight. What was it you said Crosshair? ‘Dead bodies make things complicated’?”

“Sometimes complicated is necessary for survival,” Crosshair said, “It may have not gone down the way you wanted it to, but tonight there are people finding their freedom from slavery and that’s because there are good people out there willing to fight for them. People like you.”

Your throat constricted at his words and you felt the beginning of tears build up, you do your best to blink them away before they get a chance to escape.

“You’re not leaving us again, right?” Hunter’s voice was rough, and it was clear from the way he asked the question that there was only one acceptable answer.

“No, never again,” You replied, before asking your own question, “Do I smell better now?”

Hunter made a show of taking in a deep breath, pausing for a second before giving a slow nod, “You smell like my aftershave, Echo’s mechanical oil for his prosthetics, Omega’s shampoo, Phee’s perfume that lingers on Tech’s clothes and the chemical ingredients in Tech’s eye drops.”

“Wrecker and Crosshair?”

“By the morning you’ll smell like them too. I promise.”

“Good, but in case I don’t; I’m not doing anything tomorrow night.”

Crosshair pressed his front flushed against Echo’s back and threw his arm over his brother's body to rest on top of Omega’s back, “If we must, I'm making Wrecker bring the mattresses down here. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

You laced your fingers with his across Omega’s body, “Deal.”

A/N: I’ve had one rule when it comes to tbb. I don’t write for Crosshair – He’s a hard character to write – So how the heck did I manage to include him in 80% of this fic?! I’m not sure I was able to capture his personality completely but I hope I did him justice. (runs and hides)

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb rex #tbb x platonic reader #justice joy writes #tbb fanfiction

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strniohoeee · 7 months

Text

Undefiled

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is tired of being the butt of every joke with her friends for being a “saint”, so she goes to Matt for help🪷

Warnings⚠️: It’s just cute as shit

This was for my request asking for the reader to ask Matt to be her first kiss🥹

Song for the imagine: Sparks- Coldplay

I knew I wasn’t experienced much, but that never made me feel any type of way. It was completely normal….everyone experiences these milestones at different times in their lives

I never thought twice about it, not till I made some friends who already had crazy sexual experiences. I always sat there listening, but never saying a word. At first this went unnoticed

But the more they spoke about, and the more I grew quiet they would start to give me certain glances. Glances that kind of made me feel left out, and like a fool.

My friends had been spending the night at my house like most girls our age did. And with these sleepovers came talks of boys, and talks of boys meant stories of their interactions. Interactions I’ve never had, therefore I would never have anything to say

“How come you never have anything to say?” One of my friends asked bringing me back to reality

“Hmm?” I said peeling my eyes away from the floor to look at her

“Everytime we talk about our experiences with guys you just go mute” she said

“Oh…well I've never had any of those crazy experiences, so I just listen in” I told her in all honesty

“Oh well that’s okay” she said shrugging her shoulders, which put me at ease

“I’m sure you’ve at least had your first kiss. Tell us about that” my other friend said

“I uh actually never kissed a boy before” I said avoiding eye contact

“Oh…” she responded looking around at everyone else

“Held hands?”

I shook my head no

“Hugged?”

I shook my head no again

“Damn girl nothing?” She had asked me

“Nothing…” I said shrugging my shoulders

“She’s a fucking saint, she has virgin practically written all over her” one of my other friends said

“Hey! That’s not nice” the other one said

“I mean it’s the truth….she obsesses over guys basically drooling over them, but can’t even strike up a conversation with them, why would you think she’d ever kissed someone” she responded laughing

“Ehhh that is true” the other girl said laughing with her

“She’ll probably stay shy and inexperienced forever” she said

“Could you not” I said with a straight face

“I’ll stop when you find a guy, and finally kiss him” she said rolling her eyes

That whole interaction really hurt me, and made me feel like shit. I was just waiting for the right guy to come alone for me to kiss. There was nothing wrong with that, but the whole interaction with them constantly played in my head. I had distanced myself from them as I really didn’t want to be their punching bag for “innocent virgin” jokes.

I started to hang out with my other friends Chris, Matt and Nick because they never brought up things like that, and made me feel comfortable.

Today the triplets had asked me to come over and hangout with them. I agreed, and we were all chilling in Nick's room when the interaction with my “friends” started to play in my head. I was looking at the three of them

I mean they are good candidates….well not Nick because he’s gay, mmm Chris maybe but he’s a player and that’s too much for me, so I finally settled on Matt.

He was so cute, shy, in tune with his emotions, nice and just overall everything I liked in a guy. I’d say I had a bit of a crush on him. I mean what’s not to like??

I was deep in thought about how I would approach the situation, or even if I ever would.

“Hey you okay?” Chris asked looking at me, and thus made me snap out of thought

“Yeah sorry I was just thinking” I said smiling at him

“Thinking what?” Nick asked

“Thoughts” I said laughing

“Okayyy weirdo” Nick said laughing

I laughed with them, and just continued to think about what I wanted to do. I mean I wanted to talk with Matt, but I was going back and forth in my head, and I started to get anxious because of this

“Hey Matt, is there any way I could chat about something with you?” I just randomly said. My mouth was moving faster than my brain was

“Yeah sure” he said, getting up to head out the room so we could chat. We had stepped outside right outside of Nick's bedroom

As we stepped outside I closed the door, starting to get even more anxious

“Are you alright?” He asked once I finally stood next to him

“Um yes I’m okay, but something been on my mind” I told him

“Well I’m like the therapist of the group, so lay it on me” he said laughing

“This is super personal, and I’m not sure if you’ll get uncomfortable” I said wincing at my own words

“I would never! Go on” he responded nodding his head at me to continue

“Well um…..so basically I have these friends who are very experienced as far as sexual intimacy, and they’ve been making me feel some type of way” I told him, but before I could finish he cut me off

“Screw them who gives a shit. Virginity is a fucked up social construct” he told me

“No I know, but umm they just always call me a saint and innocent because I’ve never kissed a guy. I mean I’ve never even held a guys hand, or hugged one in a romantic way” I said back to him

“Ohhh I see” he said looking a bit confused

“I was wondering if you’d be willing to maybe be my first kiss?” I asked him. Cringing internally at home embarrassed I felt

“You want me to be your first kiss? I mean yes I’ll do it, but me?” He asked puzzled

“Yes you! I feel like you’re the only person that I’d enjoy kissing plus I know you” I told him blushing a little bit

“Oh uhh thanks” he said also blushing

“Okay sooo teach me how to kiss” I said jumping straight into it

“Well first come closer” he said, and to this I walked directly in front of him waiting for further instructions

“And then uhh…you could lick your lips, but you’re wearing chapstick so you’re good” he said as he licked his own lips a little bit

“I’ll take the lead” he said

“Well duh Matt I’ve never done this” I said laughing at him

“Right….sorry” he said shaking his head

He looked into my eyes, and then down at my lips. My heart was racing so fast I could hear it in my ear drums, and I’m sure he could hear it too.

He placed his hand on my cheek, and slowly leaned in tilting his head to the right a little bit, shutting his eyes. So I such my eyes as well and leaned in slightly

Matt pressed his lips against mine, and for a moment I just stood with no movement, until finally my brain turned on.

I kissed him back, and then we separated for a second and went back to kiss again.

When we pulled away my face was blushed, my pupils were dilated, and I’m sure my heart was about to burst out of my chest.

“How was that?” He asked looking into my eyes

“That was perfect” I said smiling at him

“Want one more for good measure?” He asked with a sly smile

“How could I resist” I said rolling my eyes in a playful way

So he went back and kissed me a few more times. That was until Chris banged on the glass of the window, and when we looked over his jaw was dropped

“OH MY FUCKING GOD” he screamed laughing like a schoolgirl and running to get Nick

“This kid” Matt said laughing as we walked back into the house.

The End

Whoever requested this I HOPE YOU LIKEEEE, and now back to writing. I got 9 more stories to go😁🤭

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #Spotify

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lovethetasteofnothing · 8 months

Text

Halloween headcanons - TF 141 + Valeria + Farah

includes: valeria garza, farah karim, kate laswell, simon "ghost" riley, captain john price, johnny "soap" mactavish, kyle "gaz" garrick

gn!reader, except for Laswell x fem!reader (argue w the wall), female pet names

warnings: horny behaviour if you squint, like very little; mentioned consumption of alcohol; mentions of violence (light); the rest is pure fluff

word count: 2.4k words, roughly 350 per character

Valeria Garza

you asked her to go Halloween shopping since you wanted to decorate

got everything you laid eyes on

you had to stop her from buying three plastic skeletons because you joked about having an army of them in your backyard as decorations

she'll use her enemies bodies instead

doesn't let you put out candy on the porch, the last thing she needs is little kids coming up to her door and being loud

buys you bags of candy instead

regrets it because you get a sugar rush after eating a whole bowl

now she has a hyperactive toddler running around, spewing out random facts she found on YouTube

would make you try Mexican candy, definitely sneaks something spicy in there if your spice tolerance isn't high

"Que pasa? Can't handle the heat, muñequita?"

you hold a grudge for the rest of the night (she'll make you forget about it when she gets you in bed dw)

refuses to dress up, will punish you if you try and get a costume on her

will fold if you ask her to have matching costumes with her, still won't do it because she's "a grown woman"

takes candid photos of you in your cute little costume tho, she'll probably make one of them her background if she figures out how to

forces her men to dress up in whatever you want just to entertain you, they don't dare complain about it

the guards at your door are now dressed in Eminem and Christina Aguilera (don't ask me why)

will force you to have a scary movie marathon with her

laughs at you when you get scared and cling to her, literally calls you a crybaby and bullies you for being a scaredy cat

will snuggle you and kiss your forehead afterwards

"it's okay, mi vida, I'll protect you"

ordered her personal chef to make you Halloween themed cookies

practically folds when she sees your reaction

you get another sugar rush and she regrets everything (worth seeing your cute face and hearing your happy squeal)

Farah Karim

will plan your matching couple costumes since june

helps you thrift/craft yours and constantly compliments how you look in it

would definitely buy a ton of candy to give out to little kids trick-or-treating

is so happy when she sees their little costumes, practically heals her inner child

she has baby fever now, you have to remind her she can't get you pregnant

is searching up adoption details at 3 am after you fall asleep

helps you decorate, would definitely let you decorate since August just to see your cute face light up

adds more decorations every time she sees something you'd like and buys it

you made her watch Halloween movies with you

she judges everyone's decisions and logic

starts spewing an escape plan 5 times better and doesn't stop until she finishes it

is confused when you flinch at the scary scenes since she had seen it coming from a mile away

not surprised when you try to make sweet treats but you pull out questionable goop out of the oven

"i told you that's too much butter"

helps (pushes you to the side and only lets you crack an egg) you make an edible batch instead

lets you decorate them, you manage to make two piping bags explode before she takes over again

she hides the cookies before you get a sugar rush and/or a tummy ache

is confused as to how you found them and got both a sugar rush and a tummy ache

scolds you like a mom before taking care of you

you fall asleep in her arms on the couch, Friday the 13th playing in the background

she tucks you in bed and kisses your forehead before going to look up how to adopt a devil child

Kate Laswell x fem!reader

isn't the biggest fan of Halloween but she'd play along with you, she just wants to see you enjoying yourself

mom!Laswell would dress up at your request so you guys can have family costumes, melts at how cute you and your kid/s look together

but if it is just you and her she'd refuse

similar to Valeria, she says she's too old to dress up in silly costumes

the slightest hint of a smirk on her lips if you decided to wear a sexy costume before she rolls her eyes

proud mom smile while she takes candids of you in your cute little outfit, handing out candy to kids

so concerned when she hears about carving pumpkins

keeps a very very sharp eye on you, she doesn't want to go to the ER on halloween

helps you out when you get stuck, groans and pushes through if she starts struggling with it too

a sigh of relief leaves her lips when you finish your arts and crafts project

"it looks scary, darling" no it doesn't, but who is she to tell you that and ruin your fun

pulls out the old decorations box from the attic and helps you buy new stuff too, makes the plan on how to decorate

brings you to the halloween themed party TF 141 is holding so you can be chaotic with them while she drinks with Price

if she doesn't feel like it she'd just stay at home with you, watching you hand out candy to kids and cracking little jokes

her heart melts

refuses to let you watch horror movies, the last time you did she had to sing you a lullaby until you fell asleep

every day for a week; she also had to buy a night light because you got a random fear of the dark afterwards

you made her check the closet too

also limits your candy intake, would steal a few from your pile every once in a while and shrug when you frowned at her

candy corn enjoyer, also licorice fan

has you wrapped up in her arms, a blanket over the both of you while she tells you scary stories/ stories from her missions instead

Simon "Ghost" Riley

doesn't need a costume, he's dressing up as himself, the mask is scary enough as is

or he'd just take off the mask and say he's dressed up as Simon Riley, you call him a party pooper

you dress up as him just because you can

doesn't know if he should be upset or flattered, he's crying in his head at how cute you look with his oversized clothes and old balaclava

that's now his favorite balaclava

swaps out his mask for a balaclava so you guys can call yourselves Ghost Team

stares at you when you carve pumpkins with his throwing knives, you're lucky you're his favorite person

pries them out of your hands before you dull the blades and he has to work with oddly shaped spoons on missions

stands concerningly still on the porch and scares little kids when they come to knock on your door (like those decorations that move yk)

lets you hand out candy and coo at the little kids while he watches from the hallway (he thinks he's sneaky, he's not)

he now too has baby fever

will not mention it but you can notice him inching closer until he stands right behind you while you give out the candy, his hand wrapped around your waist

you both finish the leftover candy while watching scary movies

he feels like a little kid again, would never fess up about it being healing for him

picks out your favorite candy and gives it to you subtly, literally just makes a little pile of it in the middle while he eats the rest

would complain about you decorating since the beginning of september

has beef with a random skeleton you put up

"he's looking at me funny, luv"

picks you up while you decorate and can't reach a spot

he'd deal with the electrical decorations for you

you make him try a pumpkin spice latte

he tries so hard to be nice about it before saying he had enough sugar for the whole year

"this is milk and sugar with an idea of what coffee is supposed to be like"

cleans up the candy wrappers after you crash, takes a sneaky picture of you sleeping with his balaclava on

takes it off gently because you'd manage to suffocate in it, before tucking you in

Captain John Price

rakes up the leaves in the yard while you decorate the outside

he has to do it again because you insist on jumping in the piles and destroying his hard work

makes you help him gather the leaves again "to teach you a lesson", you never learn

picks the leaves out of your hair and dusts you off (all smiley when he notices you were wearing his flannel jacket)

doesn't want to dress up so you say that he's already wearing a capybara costume everyday

you have to explain what a capybara is

proud dad face when he sees you wearing your costume

makes you do a twirl and takes so many pictures of you so he can keep them and look at them when on mission

helps you hand out candy to the little demons

gets upset when a kid calls him 'grandpa', you have to spend at least 15 minutes telling him that he's a dilf not that old and still very attractive

dad face™ when he sees you giggling and playing around with the little kids, needs one of his own with you now

kinda sad that his job makes it so hard for him to have a cute little family with you

falls asleep on the couch while you give out candy, probably sitting up too, a bowl of candy in his lap

plays it off by saying he was just taking a little rest, you call him 'grandpa' again to tease him

doesn't notice you had been stealing candy throughout the whole night, managing to eat about an entire bag by the end of the day

holds you in his arms and tries to contain your sugar rush

you kick him where the sun don't rise on accident and that's when he lets you get your wiggles out, poor pop

you apologize by bringing him a drink and cuddling him for the rest of the night, consistently saying "sorry" every five minutes or so

"it's alright, darlin' "

you offer to share the leftover candy with him as a peace offering, pop is now a puddle

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

definitely has a dorky costume and makes you match with him

you and him have a competition about who has the better costume, he only lets you win because you're cute

still thinks his is better but he wants cuddles tonight and can't risk it

finds dumb decorations when you go shopping with him and when you tell him to put them back he sneaks them into the basket like a little kid

you wake up with the decorations in front of your eyes at the cash register and have to pay for them now

he insists on coming up with the most horrendous decorating schemes ever known to man, you follow some of them because he's sulking atp

tries to convince you to have some kind of small explosion "for effect", you turn it down because you don't want to get sued

frowns when kids get his costume wrong, chases them (playfully ofc) around to teach them a lesson

definitely scares you with every occasion he gets, you'd literally turn the corner and he'd just jump at you

you make him watch the actually scary movies because you're a horror enthusiast

"pff i've seen worse on the field" before clinging to your arm like the scaredy cat he is

carves pumpkins with you, oddly skilled at it

he helps you when your knife gets stuck in the pumpkin and your hand hurts from trying to dislodge it

blows up his pumpkin afterwards

takes couple pics with you, the sillier the better. they're his lockscreen now, will brag about them when he goes back to work

he'd try and go trick or treating before you tell him he's too old to do that

you spend the rest of the night on the couch, finishing off the leftover candy, the both of you hyperactive

would fight you because he likes the same candy as you, he wins and steals all of it

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

you make him dress up as spider man (that one mission in MW 2019), he's on board after a bit of convincing

only accepts because you promise to be his MJ

does the spider man kiss thing with you and takes pics, definitely brags about how easy it is for him to hang like that after all of those heli crashes

does whatever TikTok trend is popular at that time with you, tries to get it perfect so you can show it off to your friends afterwards

helps you choose decorations when you're being indecisive, also buys little things he thinks you'd like to add in the meantime

he'd 100% untangle the string lights while you put them up (also keeping an eye on the chair you're standing on so you don't fall)

you do actually lose your balance but he's quick on his feet and catches you, the most cocky smirk on his lips while you're blushing and your heart is beating so fast it might explode

he'd scare you too, just so he can make fun of you. also pulls random pranks on you and hides the decorations just so you can whine and complain to him

"I told you to stop being such a ditz, love" with the most loverboy grin on his face

you send him on a last minute errand to buy candy because the two of you only got your favorite kinds and you decided to hoard them for later

compliant boy, also buys you a fall themed drink on his way back

his hand is constantly around your waist or around your shoulders while handing out candy

would ask kids what they're dressed up as and gives the ones with cool costumes extra candy

you scold him for being unfair

you both decided to do a childhood halloween movie marathon, makes you feel like you're a little kid again

trades candy with you, tries to bribe you with cuddles to give him more of yours

cuddlebug!gaz who lets you fall asleep on his lap while he watches the rest of the movie (he stole the rest of your candy, your fault for letting your guard down)

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