#i think what i'd like to do is focus a lot on building up
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Todd Family Tree pt. 1
I know you guys have been waiting with baited breath for this (Read: no one but me and a handful of select mutuals care), but fret not because it's finally here.
Let's start with the side of Jason's family we know the most about, Willis's. A lot of things I'll have to say about Willis himself will be things I've said before with maybe some new additions, but a lot of the focus will be on his relationships with his family anyway so hopefully it won't get too repetitive.
Someone on my last Todd Family post commented that the Ma Gunn aspect may have been retconned, however I already integrated it into my personal canon so let's just keep going shall we?
Also shout-out to @perseus-jackass who let me ramble to them about all of this and helped me iron out some of the finer details!
The Todd/Gunn Family; Canon:
- Willis reportedly named Jason after his father, Jason Todd Sr.
- Faye Gunn II is the niece of Willis which implies Willis has at least one sibling that is never mentioned, although Faye was either raised by or very close to Ma
- Faye was named after Ma implying that whichever sibling she was raised by was close to Ma
- Assuming Gunn is her maiden name, or perhaps an alias, she didn't keep her husband's last name and Jason Sr. Is never mentioned, which could mean that they split or that he's dead
- Obviously from a meta textual stand point the reason Ma Gunn was never mentioned as Jason's grandmother is because it was a later retcon, but in universe this and Willis's choice to keep his father's last name implies he wasn't fond of his mother/was closer to his father
Sub note: The candidates for Jason's mother included Lady Shiva (I'll get into my thoughts on her in Part 3) and an Israeli woman. Edit: @ammomancer informed me that Jason was Spanish (Basque specifically) in the Bombshells continuity as well!
- Ma was implied to be from Australia, and likely taught there for a time.
- Ma implied that she had sons, and possibly that they're dead. (I have obviously disregarded this, but I'm not against the interpretation that one or both of the girls are trans.)
So my version of Jason is black/Asian/Latino! I think he's Japanese/Indian from his mom and black/Latino from Willis so keep that in mind.
Fleshing Them Out; My Expansion:
I'll start with Ma Gunn, since we see the most of her in the comics and she has the most groundwork laid for her already. Mostly I'd like to make her a little more complex.
She's proven to be a ruthlessly pragmatic character, but I don't see her being someone who does what she does for fun. She's someone who values control, someone who doesn't take perceived slights lightly. I imagine growing up a woman on Gotham's streets with so many relations to organized crime builds grit, spawns bitterness and hate. She seems like the type to value tradition - in the Gotham crime family way- this is how she was raised and the way she raised her own children. There is no changing the world they live in, only surviving it. I think she really wanted to teach her kids, both the ones she birthed and the ones she fosters, how to survive.
That's not to say she really cares though, I don't think she's close enough to anyone to really care, even if maybe in the early days of motherhood she wanted to be. She's a stone cold bitch and she's proud of it, she made her kids strong and look at the reputation it's given her. Ma Gunn's school for wayward boys isn't just for strays anymore, there are some big names dropping their brats off for training these days. Crime lord daycare. Truly, only in Gotham.
Jason Todd Sr. Is a non-character. We know basically nothing but his name and that his marriage failed, and he's probably very dead. Which may or may not be related to said failed marriage.
Do I think Ma hired a hit on her husband? I wouldn't put it past her. I think she'd get rid of anyone if they were dragging her or the family down.
We can assume he was close to Willis, and I like to think that Mr. Todd was the homemaker because I can't really imagine Ma staying home to tend the kids. It's more likely her version of family bonding was a bank heist. Willis may have very well learned to drive from high speed car chases.
I think it would be very funny if Mr. Todd is from some third or fourth rate crime family that's using a mechanic shop as a front but Mr. Todd was actually really interested in it so he got an engineering degree and had little to nothing to do with the actual crime side of things. Maybe his family married him off to make him someone else's problem and while the Gunn's aren't a notable crime family they have a lot of resources and a lot of contacts, not to mention the small army of feral children.
Ma thought she was getting a seasoned criminal to help fund her illicit activities but instead he's a stay at home dad who has turned their home into a board game because he insists on fixing it all himself (if you use the microwave the doorbell might ring and you need a screw driver to use the shower ect.)
A lot of the experiences I associate Jason having with Willis I imagine Willis had with Mr. Todd, doing homework together, working on cars in the garage, Willis definitely learned how to cook from Mr. Todd because I just don't think Ma can do better than hamburger helper and public school lunch.
For the sibling situation, and I have no real evidence canon has completely left the building with this one, but I think he has sisters. Middle child Willis and also boy who grew up with all sisters Willis is real to me for reasons I couldn't say.
Completely made both of them up, but this is my house I can do what I want.
I'll start with the oldest sister, who I've decided to call Celia. I think she's the closest to her mother, the one who took over after her. Probably a serious, studious kind of person, she grew up with more opportunities than Ma did so she probably had more schooling. I can definitely see Celia as someone who worked her ass off to bring home good grades to make her mom proud and always falling short because Ma didn't really value traditional education.
Her and Willis definitely clashed growing up, Willis never liked Ma but Celia idolized her. Where Ma's crude demeanor and distance drove Willis to acts of rebellion it made Celia even more desperate to please.
Although I'm sure Willis would deny it, I think it's still a sore spot to him that Celia's way kind of worked. Once she got old enough to really learn about the business Celia was great at it, Ma started coming around to the benefits of having someone better with the numbers and paperwork.
I think that even after Willis leaves he genuinely tries to keep in touch with everyone, I don't think he ever stops trying to reach out to Celia. I don't think he agrees with who she became even if he saw it coming, regardless of how much he doesn't like their mother (he'd never say he hates her) Celia is still the girl who put bandaids on his scraped knees and let him crawl into her bed when he had nightmares and he can't bring himself to cut contact with her.
Celia is nicer than Ma, more adept at caring for the kids and because of this she earns their trust more which ultimately makes them more loyal to the Gunn's. This is a purposeful tactic because although she does see the kids as her own she doesn't see anything wrong with manipulating them for her gain. They're family, and family always want to help each other.
Jason was not allowed to visit his auntie, and didn't even know his grandmother was still alive.
I don't think she'd have a husband or boyfriend, a romantic relationship would take too much attention away from her business and if there's one thing she learned from her mother it's that a man would only drag her down or try to control her.
Willis is, to the surprise of no one, is who I have the most to say about but I'll try to keep it brief. For all he gets a bad rep I think he's a family man at heart, I'm positive he always planned on kids even if he wasn't sure about settling down with anyone at first.
Mostly because his mom kept trying to arrange marriages which is how he ended up dating Sheila for a time...which obviously didn't work out. One could say he wasn't keen on a repeat performance after that fell apart.
Man whore I fear, Gotham's fourth most bisexual man. Where's that one post about the goon who causes a distraction for his boss by making out with the bank teller and his wife. That's literally him Willis Todd ghost wrote that post. I'll get more into his various relationships in Part 3.
This man was born to tell dad jokes and wear funky ties but he's forced to live a life of violence and crime. Because of poverty and generational trauma.
I think the most tragic part of Willis Todd is that he tried. He loved his wife and he loved Jason and he gave everything he had to providing for them so Jason wouldn't have to grow up like he did but it ended the same anyway. And he'd never be disappointed in Jason, although Jason thinks he would, because home knows his son and he knows Jason wouldn't do it unless he really thought he was helping people.
I know everyone holds the opinion that Catherine was the most serious about Jason's school but I argue it's Willis, Cathy taught Jason to love learning but Willis taught him the importance of it. I think Willis always got good grades but he never went to college because part of ditching his family was ditching their money and most of what he made went towards supporting himself.
I've named the youngest sister Joan, and I think it's important to define her relationships more than her personality for reasons I'll get into in a bit.
For continuity's and sake I'll say she was a pre-teen when Willis moved out at 18-19, which would give her a large gap between both Willis and Celia - who I imagine are maybe two or three years apart - age wise. So while Willis likely tried to take care of her, to influence her away from their mom and sister, I don't think he was super fond of being at home to begin with so I don't think he was around much and I think Mr. Todd died not long after she was born so she didn't really have the gentle hand that Wills did growing up.
This left her with little to rely on but Ma and Celia, it was a real rock and hard place. Ma is honest in her ruthlessness at least, but Celia uses her love as a tool for manipulation. I'm sure she grew up right beside the other kids at Ma's school.
So I think it's no wonder that when she found herself with a baby she had no clue how to take care of, it was very easy for her mom and sister to convince her to give the baby over. Easy for Joan to decide that her daughter was in better hands with Celia as her mother.
And then Joan...vanished. No note, no phone call, no body. Most suspect it was Ma who did it, even though the woman had her kids - former and present - rip the city apart looking for her. No one knows the full story, and no one knows Joan Gunn's whereabouts.
Well, no one except Willis Todd, not that anyone else knows that.
Faye Gunn II has a lot of potential. I think there's a chance for her to parallel Jason. They both grew up on the streets and both have affiliations with organized crime, but where Faye is comfortable perpetuating the cycle of violence expected of the Gunn women Jason spends every night busting his ass to make sure another kid never has to go through what he did.
I also think it would be fun if maybe Faye wasn't entirely human, y'know give her a little bit of meta gene as a treat. Beast Boy isn't using the name Changeling anymore and I've long subscribed to Gotham operating by faerie rules so maybe she can borrow it for a few issues.
I don't have many thoughts on her as is but I'd like to do more with her in the future!
This got really long and I'm certain it will only get longer with the next additions. The next part will focus on the Clemens/Johnson family! Catherine Todd lovers stay tuned for part 2. Remember that all of this is just how I view them based on the cookie crumbs we get about them in canon.
#dc#ma gunn#Jason Todd Sr.#Celia Gunn#Willis Todd#Joan Gunn#Faye Gunn II#Jason Todd#Todd Family Lore#oc posting#be warned because we know basically nothing about Cathy's family her part is going to be. mostly OC's
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slides are up :)
#my brainpower is DONEZO so the asoiaf and berserk aus are#all i got currently#but this will be nonstop crossovers frankly#and ofc her summary is literally so barebones#also note that arawn will betray achren in all verses it's just#not really talked abt in my summaries#i think what i'd like to do is focus a lot on building up#her arcs in specific fandoms methinks#modern is next bc i need to figure out the basics of it :|
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“Are you being serious?”
Fuckboy!hyunjin x reader
Word count;8,001
Summary: You & Hyunjin are finally moving into a positive direction, finals are now here though so you are both trying to focus on that, meaning you both can’t spend so much time with each other unless you both want to go insane. You tell your lecturer how well your assignments are going & he gets the bright idea to let you tutor someone in your class who is struggling a lot & is in desperate need of help… that being Hyunjins friend, Han Jisung.
18+, MDNI, SMUT WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT.
main masterlist here
part 1 here & part 2 here
ALL WARNINGS: Jealous Hyunjin, Jealous reader, Possessive Hyunjin, voyeurism??, recording, spit, creampie, fingering, oral(m rec), body worship, PIV, unprotected sex, marking, begging, dirty talk, praise, angst & fluff, crying after sex, brief aftercare (more happens off screen), soft hyunjin
-> reader is described as Hyunjins girlfriend & 'she/her' pronouns are used a few times but its brief<3
->This isn’t proofread so if there’s any errors i apologise mwah x
In the month running up to finals, you have been absolutely drowned in assessments & of course you need to pass, so for that reason, you n Hyunjin haven't spent as much time together. You do both study together every once in a while but you work a lot better on your own & he respects that, leaving you to it as he studies in his own free time.
You have both been doing well in the sense your feelings have grown for one another but college is still the same, Hyunjin still being the bubbly person, sitting with his large group of friends while you sit further at the back, but to give him credit he does openly choose to work with you for random partner tasks (which half of the girls in the same course a you now resent you for) & he brings you a drink at least once a day.
You've just submitted one of your last essays (which you're proud of of course) & now you can relax a whole lot more than you were before... until your lecturer asks you if you would like an extra few credits.
You of course say yes, knowing it will definitely help if for some reason you get marks taken off for your other grades, not thinking it would be too hard to complete, that is until he tell you what you need to do.
"Jisung has been really struggling y/n, you can really help him & I know you can since you've never had below a ninety. Don't feel pressured please, but I'm sure he would really appreciate it." He says to you, giving you a pleading look.
You sigh before just nodding your head, not wanting to let your professor down, but also don't want someone in your class to fail simply because you couldn't be bothered to help him.
You know he's really good friends with Hyunjin, him mentioning a few times & they have always sat beside one another, loving to piss off everyone around them. You know he doesn't take anything too seriously but you would feel more guilty if you didn't at least try.
"Thank you y/n. I'll be sure to tell him when I next speak to him one on one. I'll see you tomorrow & I'll have him come talk to you, if he gives you a hard time though by being an idiot, don't be afraid to stop helping him, you're not being forced." He says to you in a cheery voice as he fixes his papers, messy all over his desk. You say your goodnights to each other & you leave the building, making the short journey home.
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You get home & of course Hyunjin is already waiting for you, Tuesdays being the one day a week you promises you would spend time together, regardless of the busy schedules.
"Took you long enough, thought you had fell asleep in the damn hall. What was it he was talking to you about? I'd rather swallow a whole potato in one go than waste my time talking to that guy outside of hours, that guy hates me." Hyunjin questions, not looking up at you for more than a second as he stirs the pasta he is cooking for the both of you.
" He hates you because you made that mans hair go grey with the stress you've causes him n trust me, I almost did, we were talking about how I'm preparing for finals, he also asked me to help one of your friends with a whole lot of it." you sigh as you kick your shoes off & putting your bag on the coat peg hung up on the wall, on the tiny bit of free space that Hyunjins multiple jackets & hoodies now clogging up.
"Really? wait taste this, n who is it? Half my friends are dumbasses so you've got your work cut out, good luck to ya." Hyunjin jokes as he holds up the wooden spoon to your lips, his other hand underneath the spoon to catch any droplets.
You taste it n let out a hum of approval which makes him smile before turning around to continue stirring a few more times before going into your cupboard to grab two plates. "Your friend Jisung! I'm surprised he asked me out of all people, I've only had one actual conversation with him n that was during freshers, I only remember because he was wearing those glasses of his & kept bursting out into song randomly." you chuckle as you recall the memory, getting you both a glass before going into your fridge to grab the bottle of prosecco you bought yesterday just for this occasion.
Hyunjin stops his movement for a second before replying with a 'mhmm' & you don't think too much of it, grating some cheese before putting it on the coffee table in your living room rambling about random stuff, but his mind doesn't move. "So about Jisung, did you say yeah to helping him?" he asks, setting both of your plates down on the small table before grabbing two cushions off your couch n placing them on the floor, patting it for you to sit down next to him.
"Yeah, I agreed because I've only got a few more things to do n I'll be finished, I'd feel guilty for saying no, I can't let him just fail the entire course because I couldn't be bothered you know? If what you're worried about is that I won't have time for you, you're wrong, I'll still be seeing you on Tuesdays regardless." You reply in an your usual tone, giving Hyunjin a peck on the cheek as you thank him for the pasta before picking up your fork & taking a bite.
"Jisung.. Isn't someone you wanna try teach, It's a waste of your time, you should probably pass on the offer. You should help me! I'm sooo stuck on the power point." he responds, his voice monotone, trying to hide how pissed he actually is.
"Hyune, we both know you're not struggling, you only have like two more things to do so stop being silly, n besides, I get a few extra credits if I do it so it will be worth it." you say after swallowing a bite, looking at him & that's when you realise his body language, completely giving away the fact he is now in a sulk as he purses his lips at what you say, not verbally replying to you.
"Hyunjin, what's up with you, hmm? You were so happy when I got home, is something bothering you?" you ask him, putting your fork down. "It's just.. Jisung is just gonna try get in your pants y/n. I know what he's like, if he actually gave a fuck about this grade, he woulda tried way before now, he has a music career now so he doesn't even need college." he says, pointing his fork at you & swaying it around as he speaks, his voice serious despite him trying to sound unbothered.
You just look at Hyunjin, honestly confused on where this attitude has came from. "Just because he might have another career once he leaves, doesn't mean he doesn't wanna pass, Hyune. He won't 'get in my pants' I don't even know him or anything about him apart from what you've told me." a tinge of annoyance in your voice now, not at all liking what he has to say.
"Alright." he mumbles as he begins eating, not wanting to discuss it further so you ignore it, moving onto a different conversation, which makes his mood slightly better than it was before.
Hyunjin leaves an hour or so later, after helping you wash up & cuddling with you until you were dozing off. You give him a sheet of notes you had written earlier in that day just for him to help him with his own essays, changing the wording a whole bunch so he wouldn't accidentally write something similar to you have done, which he can't help but blush at the thoughtfulness. He leaves your apartment in the same mood when you first came home earlier on.
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You're walking to your morning class after grabbing a drink from the cafeteria when you hear someone calling your name from behind you over the music of your headphones, you turn around to see Jisung being the reason your name is being said, his dorky little smile looking back at you as he walks up to you.
"Hi y/n, in case you didn't know but I'm Jisung n I just wanna say thank you for helping me with all of this, means loads to me." he says, giving you an awkward chuckle as his hand rubs against the nape of his neck.
"Don't worry about it, just don't make it a waste of my time, I still need to do loads of my own stuff so I won't be waiting around for you." responding in a cold tone as you put your headphones on again before walking to your class.
You take your own unofficial seat & just go on your phone, not paying much attention to the things going on around you, blocking out the multiple conversations going on around you.
You look down to the right corner of the auditorium & notice Hyunjin isn't sitting in his own usual spot.
You; Where r u? u okay?
Hyune<3: yea, just slept in lol, just take pics of what u write n i can use that, ill probs be in after break
You begin texting a response when the chair next to you is pulled out & someone sits beside you, you look to your left & Han is smiling at you, pulling his books out of his bag & placing them on the desk.
"Sir told me to come n sit beside you since he is helping yuna right now n he doesn't have time to re-explain it all to me. You still okay to help me, right?" He blurts out, looking at you with his boba eyes, you just nod your head & he smiles.
Jisung begins to show you where he's at on each part of the assessments he needs to do & shows you the very few notes he has actually been bothered to write down.
"You've only wrote this..? for an entire years worth of work this is all you have to help you?" yo snort as you hand back his notepad, your eyebrows raised. "I thought it wouldn't be this intense!" he responds, his voice whiney.
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You spend the next hour roughly explaining how to do the main parts of everything & you were writing down a few things for him since you realise he is a painfully slow writer, but you choose to hold your tongue since you think he is actually listening since he is actually asking you a question ever so often.
The time hits quarter past eleven so you grab your little blue money purse before standing up to leave for your break when Jisung moves his chair out so you can't leave. "Y/n, could I get your number or something? so I can text you.. about the work! of course." Han asks you as he stands up to face you fully.
"Awk yeah that would make sense, alright." you take one of your pens off the desk & open the cap before grabbing Jisungs hand before you write your number on it & then squeezing yourself past him, walking up the rest of the stairs to leave but he runs up to you again to begin walking with..well, behind you, ignoring his friends at the other end of the room shouting his name.
"Thanking you y/nnie, I can call you y/nnie right? anyways what's your plans for after college hours? Do you have a job you gotta get to? Any sorta clubs? I get the vibe you definitely are a part of... an art class. I woulda said book club but I feel as if that's too basi-" "You talk so much, holy shit. My plan is to finish what I need to finish tonight or tomorrow so I'll have time to actually help you" you cut off, rolling your eyes as you begin walking one of the common area benches, Jisung still trailing behind you.
You sit down & Jisung settles himself beside you, smiling at his friends whenever they walk past, talking your ear off as you just stare at him, not paying attention.
A minute later, You turn away from Jisung & lean your head against the wall in annoyance , Jisung now talking about how he lived in Malesia & almost got eaten by an alligator when your eyes scan the area & that's when you notice Hyunjin strolling towards you. You lean back upright & smile n wave at him & he smiles back, until Han pops his head out from behind you to see who you're waving at, your body no longer covering him from the way you're both sitting.
Hyunjin reaches you but doesn't sit down, instead standing in front of both of you. "Heya y/n, hi jisung, what you both talking about." Hyunjin says in a weird tone of voice, sounding slightly off standish. "Couldn't tell ya, sir didn't really go over anything new so I didn't write anything down to give you, he was just answering others questions, come sit." you say as you pat the spot beside you but he doesn't budge, feet staying glued to the floor, hi eyes moving to now look at the man sitting beside you.
"So if he was answering questions all day, why'd you not just ask him for help on what to do? Why are you putting more on y/ns plate?" Hyunjin spits to jisung, his facial expressions scarily neutral. "Because he would spend an entire day explaining it to me! I asked y/n a million times if it's fine n it's fine! y/n doesn't mind it." Han whines back, throwing his hands around & that's when Hyunjin notices your number drawn onto his hand.
Hyunjin looks at it then back at the both of you before scoffing. "Point is, you don't give a fuck about passing, I'm not stupid. I'll see you later." he speaks in the same cold tone, tapping your head condescendingly before walking away & down the hall out of sight.
"What the hell is his problem, he has such an attitude." you murur, mostly to yourself but Jisung responds anyway. "dunno, maybe stress." feigning innocence.
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Hyunjin walks into class, blood boiling. He sits on the opposite side than he usually does & puts his headphones on, basically throwing the items in his bag onto his desk before logging into his computer & pulling up his word document.
He doesn't look up at any of the noise around him, other students for some reason spending their break in the same room they've been sitting in for four hours now until someone taps his head before pulling his headphones off his head.
"Nice song, what's it called?" Lisa chimes as Hyunjin turns around, relaxing when he sees it's just her & not a random person trying to piss him off. "You're still on your essay? y/n handed hers in already, didn't your little girlfriend feel like helping you out?" she remarks, sitting on the edge of the desk, swinging her legs while she looks down at him.
"y/n.. isn't my 'girlfriend' so to speak n anyways, we both agreed to do it on our own since y/n concentrates better that way n i've learned that so do I, so if you could leave Lisa i'd like that." he responds, his tone sounding more rude than he intended.
"Who pissed in your cereal Hyunjin, jeez. That sucks, I'd love for you to help me, I'm further behind than I wanted to be, can I borrow your notes at least? & you sure y/n works better on her own? She was helping Jisungie a wholeeee bunch earlier." she speaks back, sweet toned, the smile not wiping off her face for even a second, picking up his notepad & flicking through it.
"Mhmm, just take it n give it back at the end of the day. I told y/n helping Jisung is a waste of time but sir n Jisung both wormed their way into her brain knowing she would feel too guilty for saying no, she didn't listen to me, she's too kind." he replies, not bothering to look up at Lisa despite feeling her eyes almost burning two holes into his side profile.
"Clearly not too kind if she can't listening to her own boyfriendddd" she teases, ruffling up his hair. "I told you, we aren't officially together, you taking my notes or no? I have stuff to do Lisa." he snarks as he finally actually looks up at her as she jumps off the desk, jotter in hand.
"I know, just wanted to hear you confirm the fact. I would ask you to send me the notes but you've blocked my number, y/n has you so bitched, didn't think I'd see the day." Hyunjin just rolls his eyes as Lisa says this but he sees you & Jisung walking back into the room, six or seven levels above & he gets an idea.
He rolls his chai out, blocking Lisas path as he looks up at her, a puzzled look on her face. "If you say please, I'll think about unblocking youuu." he taunts, his pretty smile showing on his face. Lisa looks up at you in your usual seat, noticing your quick glances down back at them, trying to not make it too obvious before looking back down at Hyunjin. "Pretty please, Jinnie?" she responds, battering her eyelashes as she ruffles his hair again.
He chuckles before moving out of the way, letting her past. As she leaves, he murmurs a 'next joke, fuck that' to himself, internally cringing at the conversation between them before pressing play on his spotify again & doing his work.
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The day finally ends & you are quick to get out of the room, not being surprised if steam was coming out of your ears with how pissed you are. You noticed Lisa & Hyunjin speaking & you were unable to concentrate from that moment on. 'Why was she touching him?' 'Why was he flirting with her?' 'what a fucking dick' keep bursting into your mind & you honestly want to punch them both in the face.
Hyunjin gets his notepad back from Lisa & walks away without saying much of anything to her, trying to catch up to someone in particular... Jisung.
He knows his schedule like the back of his hand & it doesn't take much walking or time to find him, sitting on a small ledge waiting for the main music room to be unlocked for him, Chris & Changbin, eating a packet of skittles, filling his chubby cheeks while just idly looking around.
"Heya Hyunjin, you alright?" He questions, pulling his legs closer to his chest so Hyunjin can sit down opposite him, which he does. "Been better, got a question for you though." he sighs, leaning forward to dig his hand into Jisungs packet & takes out a handful of skittles, dumping the green ones back into the packet.
"Go f'r it." he speaks, words muffled as he pours more into his mouth. "What you doing with y/n? I pretty much made it clear to stay away, so what is your problem? You coulda asked anyone to help you but I know you went to sir n specifically asked for y/n's help, you can't fool me I've known you too long." he questions, his voice sounding far too normal for it to be comfortable.
"You didn't tell me shit, n I'm not a toddler, what makes you think you can tell me what to do? You're not actually together together so why can't I simply speak to her?" he remarks, smirking at him knowing he is getting under his skin as he throws his empty food wrapper at the bin but missing, making him kiss his teeth.
Hyunjin scoffs at his words, in disbelief. "Han stop being a dick, y/n is mine n it's that simple so just fuck off, I've never told you to leave anyone fuck alone until now so just do it? It's not difficult believe it or not." Hyunjin snaps back, getting more annoyed as the clock ticks by, not bothering to keep his tone quiet as another student walks by every once in a while.
"Yea n we also agreed we wouldn't cockblock each other yet here you are, you guys aren't official which you said yourself so it's fair game. You can't claim someone if you're still flirting with your other little side pieces, me & y/n saw you n Lisa earlier. You seriously wanna get rid of everyone else you see for one person? Next joke." he replies, his voice raising at the end, honestly enjoying how pissed off Hyunjin is getting, his face getting more & more red.
"Lisa is literally nothing to me n yea-" Hyunjin is cut off as Changbin n Chan swivel around the corner, all smiles. "Heya Hyunjin, not seen you in ages, Jisung I got the key so we can go in now, you coming Hyun?" Chan questions as he turns his back to unlock the door.
"Nah, I'm busy n got things to do, I'll speak to you all later." Hyunjin replies, squishing Changbins cheeks playfully, trying to ease any tension the others are starting to sense, before walking off, his breathing intense as he leaves the building & pretty much speed walking home.
⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ::✼✿ ✿✼:ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑
He enters his complex building & storms up the multiple flights of stairs, skipping a step or two each time. He turns the corner & sees you sitting on his doormat, both of you making eye contact.
You stand up & wipe any dirt that could be on you as Hyunjin sighs, stopping in front of you as he moves one of his headphone speakers, not even bothering to fully pull them off.
"Are you gonna speak to me n tell me what's wrong with you Hyunjin?" You speak out, placing your hands on your hips. "Do you seriously not know what you've done? Give me a fucking break. Move, I want to get inside." he spits back before trying to worm his way around you but you stop him.
"Hyunjin what the fuck is your problem? I've done jack shit n yet you're treating me as if I'm an annoyance to you! I'm not leaving till I get an answer." you yell back, getting even more pissed at his attitude.
"I'm not even going to bother arguing with you, especially in my fucking hallway y/n, get inside." He spits out as he pushes your arm away & unlocks his door before entering, not bothering to shut it as he knows you're gonna end up following him.. which you do.
You shut his door behind you & chase behind him as he walks into his bedroom & throwing off his hoodie, not even acknowledging you as he does his usual routine.
"So you gonna explain or what? Also turn around when I speak to you, don't be so fucking rude Hyunjin." you utter, speaking to his back as he doesn't even bother looking at you.
"Got nothing to explain. You gonna tell me why you wrote your number on Jisungs arm when I specifically told you what he would be actually wanting from you & after telling you it would be a complete waste of time?" He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he turns around to look back at you, leaning on his desk.
You raise your eyebrows at him, not being able to hold back the shocked laugh at his words. "Are you being fucking serious? First of all Hyunjin, I'm not a kid that you can boss around n second of all, I only gave him my number so he can ask me about anything he needs & I'm basically finished everything I need to do for finals so I don't fucking care about helping your friend out a bit!" you yell back, your heart beginning to race.
"It's fucking obvious he was flirting with you y/n?! Are you really that naive to fucking see it? Sorry to be the one to tell you but it's true." he replies, swinging his arms around & pointing as he speaks.
"So fucking what if he was? It changes absolutely nothing since I'm not interested! But if you want to speak about flirting, you're a huge fucking hypocrite since you were basically drooling over Lisa earlier & you knew I was watching! Your attitude is disgusting & if you're acting like this when we aren't even official then what makes you think that is what I want? You're straight up immature." you shout, your voice going a bit raspy & your hands shaking.
"I did that because I was fucking hurt about what you were doing! & I know we aren't officially together but you haven't been acting as if you want to be with me! You don't even listen to me y/n when I know what the hell I'm talking about. I chosen you for me to actually try get into a relationship with but I'm thinking it's not worth it." he cries out, tears threatening to leave his eyes as he says this, shouting back at you.
"Are you trying to insinuate I'm 'lucky' to be in this position with you, get off your fucking high horse holy shit! I didn't flirt with Han at all but you can't say the same about you & Lisa, how am I supposed to trust you if you act like this over something so small? This isn't even fucking worth it Hyunjin, I'm not going to let you see me as if I'm beneath you." you respond, your voice going monotone at the end as you shake your head at him before turning around to leave, realising this conversation is getting nowhere.
Hyunjin is quick to step across his room & get between you & the bedroom door, blocking you from leaving. "When the hell did I say you're beneath me? Why can't you see how upset I am over all of this? I want to be with you in the future but you are just throwing it back in my fucking face? Do you just like the attention or something? Is that why you just straight up refused to listen to me?" he questions, looking right into your eyes with his own, his eyes being similar to how they looked when he came to your house & confessed to you not too long ago, but with anger mixed in along with them this time.
"You're fucking joking, right? What 'attention' am I getting other than you yelling in my face about it? Stop being such a jealous prick Hyunjin, the future isn't now so you don't have this 'claim' on me like you think you do, as much as I want it & how much you claim yo want to, we aren't fucking dating & you wanna know why I think you're trying to hold back? Is because you like the attention & you won't be able to fuck anyone else without it being considered cheating! Come back to me when you can sort your jealousy & other issues out." You scream at him, a tear or two falling down your cheeks but you're quick to wipe them away, not looking right at him as you speak.
Hyunjin cackles at our words before yet again stopping you from being able to leave, putting his hand on the door handle. "You speak so much stuff that you're convinced you know all about but you couldn't be so wrong it's honestly a joke. I don't want anyone else but you & I've made it so clear since the start, You expect me to not be jealous when someone is fawning over you.. what's mine? Acting as if your blood doesn't boil when anyone flirts with me? You being so pissed about Lisa is a prime example. Stop acting like you're any better than me, that you're not just as possessive over me, you just don't wanna seem like a psycho about it." He replies, his tone still full of venom but no longer yelling at you, tonguing his cheek.
"Why wouldn't I be jealous? I'm clearly threatened by all the girls who drool over you, even more so because I'm not similar to those girls, I'm not as confident or straight up ballsy as them! But the way you've gone about everything is so wrong Hyunjin." You cry, voice lowering to match his but the tears not fully stopping & he takes his finger to wipe them away, pouting.
"I'd be lying if I said you admitting you're jealous isn't hot, but stop fucking worrying, I wouldn't give you the time of day if I wasn't one hundred percent sure. Stop crying too, you don't need to. But being for real, y/n, sto-" He is cut off as your phone begins ringing in the back pocket of your jeans & Hyunjins arm is quick to swing around & pull it out before reading the nameless number, Hyunjin hands it to you with his eyebrows raised, already knowing who it is.
You answer the phone & It's obviously Jisung, who doesn't even give you time to say anything before asking you a whole bunch of questions, saying he is 'stuck' on what to do.
As Jisung speaks, Hyunjin taps the 'speaker' button before ushering you towards his bed, his smirk not leaving his face. You look up at him with confused eyes as the back of your knees hit the bed, making you sit on it before Hyunjin pushes on your shoulder so you're laying fully down, your feet still on the floor of his room before getting on top of you & moving your head to the side before nuzzling his face in your neck, beginning to nibble at it, making you tense up beneath him & your breath hitches.
"Jisung can I call you ba-" You're cut off by Hyunjin nibbling down on your neck as he mumbles a 'nuh uh' & your hand reaches up to pull on Hyunjins hair & he does his best to hold back a groan, his hand slithering down to your jeans, unbuttoning the button after around thirty seconds of trying & then using his hand & legs to push them down just far enough for acccess.
He begins to allow his finger to graze over the outside of your pussy, feeling the fabric of your panties, not failing to feel over the small wet patch now visible as he sucks a dark purple hickey into the crook of your neck & your eyes scrunch together as you bite your lip, trying to not make a sound.
"I did the first two paragraphs but I'm stuck on what quotes to use, I think the ones I've chosen are too short to keep writing about, what quotes did you choose?" Han questions on the other end of the phone but you're barely paying attention as the man above you now wriggles his fingers under your panties, now drawing small circles on your clit, making you gasp.
"You can't use t-the same quotes I use J-jisung, read what you've chose o-out to me." you stutter out, hips grinding against Hyunjins fingers as best as you can with the position you're in.
Jisung begins to read out his quotes & Hyunjin can't help but let out a small chuckle, half at how hard Han is trying but the other half being at how hard you're trying to remain coherent, so he steps up his actions. He cups your pussy before dragging his hand down to your dripping hole & entering two fingers in, a small squelch being heard & your legs tense up even more as you melt into his lips, still suckling hickey after hickey into your neck.
"Y/n? Am I breaking up? We can meet up if you want & you can go over it, I know a café we can meet at if you're free?" He requests & Hyunjin breaks away from you neck to reply for you. "y/n is busy, figure it out." he remarks as he hangs up before turning your phone off & tossing it to the side.
"Didn't know you're into that, y/nnie, you're so wet just from a few touches? So dirty." he remarks, smirking at you before locking his lips with yours, his tongue tasting your own before he even gives you time to respond & you bring your hands to cup his cheeks.
His fingers begin to hit against your G-spot as he uses a 'come here' motion as his thumb begins to rub your clit from side to side, making you whine into his mouth, making him smirk.
You move your arm down, dragging your nails down the front of him & over his abs over his shirt before beginning to palm his cock over his joggers, making his hips jerk forward before changing your position by rolling himself onto the bed & pulling you so you're straddling him, his fingers leaving your cunt as he does so, making you whince.
You begin grinding over his covered hard on after kicking your jeans fully off, you being left in just your shirt & panties. "Maybe you're the dirty one Hyune, can't resist touching me while your friend is on the phone hmm?" You finally have the chance to reply & Hyunjin chuckles as his hands come down to your ass, fondling the skin. "Oh but I can resist, but why would I when it's funny to hear him try ask you out while disguising it as 'studying' while you're at my house currently half naked?" he replies instantly, biting his lip as your wetness is now soaking through your panties & leaving a small spot on his clothes, staining them.
You roll your eyes before you pull his shirt off his body, messing up his hair a bit before you slither yourself off the bed & onto his carpeted floor & tugging on his joggers, his hips raising to help you remove them, leaving him in only his underwear.
"You're being bold for someone who couldn't take more than a quarter of my cock last time you sucked it, you trying to train yourself for Jisung?" he teases, resting his bodyweight on his elbows, looking down at you as you pull his hardened cock out, pumping it slowly in your hand.
"Maybe I just didn't want to take any more seeing since I have no idea where it's been." you spit back, looking up at him as you smirk, your bottom lip in between your teeth as you let a glob of spit escape your lips & fall onto his pretty pink tip. He opens his mouth to respond but you cut his words out of his chest by licking a long strip from just above his base to his tip before letting the tip fall past your lips, suckling on it softly, making him hiss.
You let your tongue swirl against his tip before you begin dipping your head lower, allowing your mouth to take part of his shaft in your mouth too. You are still a bit nervous since it's only your second time sucking cock but Hyunjins words fuel you to prove to him you can take it all, so as he is taking a deep breath out, hand holding your hair out of your face, you force your head down further so over half of his cock is now in your mouth & you hollow your cheeks, making his toes curl & have to consciously try not jerk his hips into your mouth.
"You been practicing y/n? Doing so well, taking it so g-good, so pretty." he groans, lightly slapping your cheeks, feeling his cock through the skin of your cheek, giving him butterflies.
You begin to bob your head up & down his cock as you use your hand to jerk him off in the same rhythm, making his grip in your hair tighter as his groans & hisses get more frequent, making you convinced you're probably leaking your own wetness onto the floor you're situated on.
You let yourself off his cock to catch a breath as you let all the spit that's formed in your mouth get dribbled back onto his cock if it hasn't already fell past your lips & you look up at him with glossy eyes as you pump him at a faster pace, his cheeks blown out & now breathing out his mouth.
"Only practice I've gotten is off the pretty boy I'm looking at right now." you chuckle, honestly having no idea where the confidence is coming from before you blow cold air onto his tip, making him yelp & scrunch his eyes shut before leaning forward to pull you back onto the bed.
"I refuse to cum before fucking you" he mumbles, out of breath as he kisses you again, full of tongue. "Open your mouth." he hushes as he breaks away from your lips, fingers playing with your folds over your panties again, his wet cock against your thigh.
You do as he says & he spits into your mouth, humming as you swallow it, nothing but lust in both of your eyes. "Such a slut deep down, aren't you? You want more? Your hips can't fucking stay still." he chuckles, biting his lip as he looks down at the sight below, your lower half squirming to try get more friction & you just whine.
"Hyune.. Please give me it, don't I deserve it?" You question, seduction tinging your voice & Hyunjin can't stop the feeling of his cheeks & ears going hot, the way you're currently talking making his head spin.
He stands up & pulls you towards the edge of the bed, still laying on your back as he peels off your soiled underwear, your pussy glistening & his mouth waters, deciding to spit right onto your clit, making you whine.
He pushes your legs that little bit further apart before situating himself between them, jerking himself slowly while looking down at you. "How bad do you want it, hmm? tell me how much you want it, pretty." he speaks, not looking away from your pretty face as he hits his tip against your clit, making a tiny, sticky slapping noise. "Hyune I deserve it, want it so much, don't I? Look how wet I am for you." you whine, fingers trailing down to spread your lips, exposing your hole to him.
Hyunjin groans at the action , his cock twitching as he aligns himself up with your entrance. "Say it one more time, didn't quite hear you." he replies, hand caressing the inside of your thigh as he drags his cock up & down your folds. "Hyunjin please just put it in! I need it s-" Your cries are cut off as he pushes his tip past your hole & sheaves into you until his pretty, full & heavy balls are against your skin, making you gasp.
"You're so tight, Jisung not fucking you right?" He asks, trying to sound calm & collected when in reality he is trying to not cum on the spot, your warm, wet walls wrapping around his dick perfectly. "t-stop winding me up hyune, please move." you whine in response, making Hyunjin smirk as he retracts his hips before thrusting back into you, knocking the air out of your lungs.
He sets a slow but powerful pace, small squelching noises & both of your whines & grunts filling not only his bedroom but the entire apartment. "For someone wh-who's such a fu-fuckboy, you're not fucking me l-like one." You struggle but get the words out, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine & it works as he grunts before pushing the backs of your thighs up against your chest before beginning to pound into you, making you squeal.
"You wanna try repeat that for me, hmm? You're saying that as if anyone can fuck you like this but me, your cunt is mine, can't your brain understand that or are you just too much of a whore to only want one dick?" He snaps at you, his hair sticking to his forehead because of the sweat as he abuses your cunt, his thumb reaching down to your cunt, making you yelp & your hips begin meeting his thrusts halfway.
You shake your head but he isn't happy with that response & he grabs your face by the cheeks, forcing you to look up at him as he leans forward. "Words, y/n, where did your boldness go, hmm? Who's pussy is this? Tell m-me." He asks, breath quick & short as he doesn't slow down for even a second, letting out a hiss as you reach up to his back & digging your nails into him on accident, for sure leaving marks later but none of you bothering to care.
"Y-y-yours! Hyun-jin I'ma c-cum." you screech, brain going completely blank, your body almost exploding with sensation. Hyunjin smirks at you before standing upright again, continuing his assault on your swollen cunt. "Cum for me then, show me how good I-I make you feel, Only I can do this for you, can't I? Only I know how to m-make you feel so good, you look so beautiful under me, you need to see." he groans back at you, throwing his head back momentarily before looking back down at you as you cum around his cock, wriggling & squirming as it washes over you, your knuckles going white from the grip you have on his bedsheets.
He fucks you through your orgasm, leaving you breathless before he pulls out. You don't have much time to question it however as he pulls out of you & grabbing your phone off the floor before returning to you.
"Gonna show you how fucking hot you look, It's on your phone so it's just for your eyes, no stress." He says, breathless as he turns on the video option before pressing record & sliding himself back into you, your orgasm forming a white ring around his base.
You clench around his thick cock, partly from overstimulation as he begins pumping into you again, chasing his own release now. The camera is pointed at you so you decide to act up a little, pulling your shirt above your tits, exposing your hardened buds to the camera & cold air of the room, making Hyunjin whine. "Look how beautiful you are y/n, you're anything & everything I could e-ever fucking want, taking me so well, I've t-trained you to take my c-cock so well." he says in a husky voice, his throat now dry as he continues ogling you, looking down at your swollen, reddened pussy, dragging the phone down to let the screen get a good look too, watching it tense & clench around him, making his knees almost buckle.
His eyes widen as your fingers move up to your pretty tits as you begin playing with your own nipples, tugging & pulling on them before raising your fingers to Hyunjins lips & he gladly suckles on them, moaning onto them before you pull them out of his mouth & caress your now spit covered nipples softly.
"You like the c-camera, beautiful? You-you're so dirty, so p-perfect for me. Turn your pretty face to the side, show the camera w-what you let me do to you y/nnie" He groans, his voice high pitched & squeaky & you do as he says instantly, not fully processing what he meant or said as he move the camera upwards, showing the purple marks he has inprinted on your skin.
"G-gonna cum y/n." he forces the words out & before you even realise, you're wrapping your legs around his waist & pulling him towards you. He tosses the phone to the side again before falling onto his elbows on each side of your head & you use the rest of your strength to tilt your head up enough to connect your lip to his neck & you begin pinching the skin of his neck with your teeth & you suck a big purplish red mark into his neck as his own orgasm washes over him.
He melts into your skin as his orgasm fills you, coating your walls & giving you goose bumps. You let him fully lay on you as you softly kiss his neck & earlobe, letting him catch his breath back as you also try relax your own breathing.
You lay like this for a minute or two in complete silence as you now begin playing with Hyunjins wet hair, before tears start leaving your eyes. You begin to sniffle & Hyunjins brain switches itself back on as he pushes his head up from your neck to look at you, now crying.
"Y/nnie, why are you crying? Did I hurt you?" He begins to panic as he moves off of you to start checking you but you sit up too, basically following him as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him back down to you.
"Just stay here f'r a bit, Hyune I'm sorry, I didn't know how upset I would make you." you sniffle, not looking right at him as he looks at your reddened face, his heart hurting. "I'm sorry too, I don't want you to feel insecure, I was being stupid. Can we.. go on a proper date? I know it's not the most romantic time or place to ask but I was n still am serious about only wanting you y/n, I mean it, pinkie swear." He asks you in a soft voice & he holds out his pinkie to you & you can't help but let out a small giggle as you interlock them together then kissing your thumbs before locking in the promise.
"Took you long enough to fucking ask me." You reply as you wipe the tears off your cheeks, reaching up to kiss Hyunjin on the cheek & his already red cheeks get an even darker shade.
"Better late than never, Stay here n I'm gonna get us a drink n we can go for a bath." He kisses your forehead before getting off of you but he takes the time to shuffle you up to his pillows & laying your head on it as he grabs his bed throw & lays you under it so you're not just sitting there, before leaving the room dancing & singing.
"Y/n & Hyunjin sitting in a tree" He sings out loud as he walks around his house & you can't help but laugh. "Stop singing that or I'll change my mind!" You yell & he shuts up instantly (not including the whine of protest he yells back), making you laugh to yourself.
I'm not completely sure I want to do a fourth part to this so in case this is actually the finale, I really hope everyone who has taken the time to read it has enjoyed reading the past 3 parts as much as I enjoyed writing them & thank you for all the kind words! <3
TAGS: @tsunderelino @troublemaker02 @ismokeeweed @lmhcats @isagerada
#skz smut#stray kids#hyunjin#skz hyunjin#hyunjin smut#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin x reader#stray kids imagine#straykids x reader#straykids#skz imagines#skz#hyunjin stray kids#kpop smut#smut
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Hey babe! Could you do like a NSFW alphabet headcanon thing for Carl Gallagher?
Ily🤍🤍
HIII BBY OFCC ILYT🤍🤍 (UPDATED!!)
word count;1430
warnings; nsfw n stuff sooo..... do what you want with that💀(an- i updated it because it wasn't too accurate and it was finally starting to bother me so i hope i made it a little more accurate😘)
A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
he'd probably already have like a towel and water or something so when yall are done he could just quickly clean up then probably cuddle, or smoke and talk or both.
B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
I'd say he likes his upper body(like idk how to explain lmao) so his torso and arms and stuff because like he could do a lot with his arms and stuff ;)
and for you, probably your boobs or thighs because he likes leaving hickeys on them and he love going down on you, so I could definitely see him growing some extra love for your thighs, and it doesn't even have to be sexual too, he just loves every part of you.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)
loves cumming inside, like if you're on the pill or hes using a condom, but if not, I feel like his pull out game if pretty strong, so hed like to cum on your lower stomach or back. and for you, he'd love it if you came anywhere lol, like him just knowing he made you cum just makes it better.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
I feel like he'd wanna talk to his friends about his sex life not necessarily to brag. but also doesn't because he doesn't wanna risk any information getting out and you getting upset or something. but he'd probably tell a little to Ian if the subject came up somehow, but no details.
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
oh god do I even have to answer💀? yes he is. I think we all know lol.. but mostly from like research from when he was younger, because he's not a virgin, but he definitely knows how and what to do in general, but the more you go at it, the more he learns your body and what it takes to pleasure you.
F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)
hes got a few for different places, but his mains are missionary but maybe with one ankle on his shoulder, or dogy, and if you have a favorite he'd most likely try it.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)
I mean, not all the time. I'd say 50/50. like there's times where its not a need to be serious but thats mostly the vibe, like it was an important date night or something. then other times like if you're both high or a little out of it then I'm sure there's a few giggles and jokes.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
doesn't focus too much down there, but he'd probably trim when he feels like it or wants to look nice lmao.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
yess, he loves the feeling of being close to you and to him it feels like it just builds the bond more, like even if its angry sex, he'd still kiss you lovingly and stuff like that.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
sometimes yeah, like you're not able to see each other for a while, he'd probably jack off a few times, but doesn’t wanna do it often because he wants to wait for when you get to be with each other again ;)
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
he'd probably be into tying or holding your hands together, maybe a blind fold here and there if you're feeling frisky, and he'd probably be into smoking a joint or something too, like shotgunning.
L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)
mostly the bedroom, but, if you both were horny enough, probably a public bathroom, either in a stall or he'd lock the bathroom door and fuck on the counter. or anywhere, he doesn't care.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
it doesn't take much, but he's better at controlling now, but what would get him going now is when you'd just physically love on him, like rub his thigh a little, kiss his neck, tell him you love him. if you do all those, he'd probably drag you away from everybody and go somewhere private. and idk why… but I can see this turning him on too, like when you're sweaty and stuff, I think if he thinks of another reason for you to be sweaty, that would probably get him going.
N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
definitely a no to anything that could hurt you and make you uncomfortable. no knifes, no major rough kinks and stuff, he'd hate to see you get hurt even a little with stuff like that, like wouldn't be too into harsh degradation, and doesn't wanna make you try unless its tears of pleasure.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
loooves going down on you all the time, like, he gets pleasure out of it too, he gets pussy drunk a lot of the time, but also loves a good blow. but he mainly gives first, knowing you give back eventually.
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
if its just normal casual sex, probably at a slight faster speed just because. not rough, but if its special or you both have some time on your hands, he'd go slow and sensual
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
not his favorite, but sometimes you both just need a moment, or just need to be quick with it. he's definitely good at quickies though if you need to be fast.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
he doesn't mind experimenting with things youd wanna try, or something he saw on the internet or something. and he doesn't care about where, like a public bathroom or in a car. in a way he likes the feeling, but doesn’t necessarily wanna get caught.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
oh god, after military school he could probably go forever lmao, but obviouslyat some point there's rest. but I think he could go at least 3+. whether thats in the same time or same day, but i think after rounds, there'd be a break then he'd be back at it.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
now… I think at some point, you both would talk about it, like maybe he ask about it after he passed that one aisle at a cvs💀 but if you did end up using toys at some point, they'd mainly be for you, like a vibrator or something, but wouldn't wanna use them all the time, because he wants to be the only one that can make you feel good yknow?
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
he'd tease a little, mainly with his words, but even if he was unfair, he'd let you get back at him sometime to even it out.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
if he's on top, he groans more, maybe let's one or two moans out, but its mainly heavy breathing. but if you were on top, he'd moan more, and act more subby. especially if he's he's pussy drunk, he'd moan while eating you out.
W = Wild Card ( a random headcanon)
so kinda back to like how to get him going, I feel like he's sensitive to certain touches and words/tones with you. like only if you're trying to get him going, and he can tell the difference between you being horny and you being affectionate, so if you touche him like that, you know he's sighing, closing his eyes, and leaning his head back
X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on under the belt)
I'd say.. about 6.5-7 inches. I'm not gonna go further💀
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
pretty high, but can control his thoughts a little more, and by that I mean from 70,000 times a day to probably more times a day lmao
Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
he'd wait for you to fall asleep, and even when you're asleep, he'd still probably be awake not doing anything but laying with the love of his life.
#carl gallagher#carl gallagher hcs#carl gallagher headcanons#carl gallagher x reader#shameless#shameless x reader#shameless smut#carl gallagher smut#carl gallagher x reader smut
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Pick a Card - What is your soul nudging you towards? - Spirituality
Hello and welcome to a new pick a card collective reading. This time we're going to focus on your spiritual side with the question, What is your soul nudging you towards?
The idea is to welcome any message, any nudge from your soul to encourage you to explore something spiritually. I will keep this open and see what shows up. Never done that specific question, and I'm using a deck I'm not super used to, so you're welcome to leave feedback as it is as much of an exploration for you as it is for me!
As always remember that this is a general reading meant for multiple people, there are only three piles and a shit ton of you. Spirituality is very personal so take what resonates and leave out the rest.
PILE 1
Cards: Parasite, King of Pentacles, Threshold Guardian, 9 of Pentacles, Idiot, 2 of Pentacles, 8 of Pentacles, Pure Balance, 8 of Swords, Abyss, Queen of Pentacles, Female Warrior, Knight of Pentacles, Holder of Light, Page of Cups, 9 of Cups, Imprisoner, Inner Companion, the World
Right off the bat you've got so many pentacles cards, especially towards the end of the suite like wow, and in placements targeting your current situation and energies. It's a indication that you're currently very focused on the physical aspects of your life in a very abundance-focused way. Which BTW doesn't only mean money but your physical life as a whole. You may just be very focused on your physical routine, your job and building your home, taking care of your body and enjoying the pleasures of life.
This shows right at the beginning of your spread, where we can see that your focus on abundance and enjoying the things of life is interfering with your spiritual development. Its almost like you're carrying so many outside things with you that it leaves no space for tuning in with yourself only. And when you try, it's again very hard to do due to the noise and clutter within you. You are very preoccupied with your job or career, very focused on buying stuff or planning holidays or outings, very focused on your body. I'd say also rather detached from thinking and feeling your spirituality. Like it's barely a tiny thought in your mind but apart from that you pay no attention to it. It's almost like you don't really want to.
However, I do think that this is not happening by mistake and that you need to go through this phase, and if it's so difficult to brute force yourself out of it, or if you feel no desire to do so at all, its because you are sort of blocked from doing that in order not to hijack your natural development. You needed this break, to focus on your own pleasure and physical abundance, to reconnect with what's immediately real and knowable and build a life for yourself. There is this idea of outside forces actually protecting that phase of your life so that you don't rush towards something before you're ready to, which would be counter-productive.
In the past, you were not always the wisest and have made a lot of not so smart decisions, with not so great consequences… you might have been warned but ignored it or failed to see it and proceeded anyway. However, you have learned from it and rebuilt yourself, and I think your current phase of life is part of that; that need to repair your life and the damage you went through. For some of you, it's also possible that you've got a great deal of theoretical knowledge but not much personal practice to back it up, or that you were just repeating what others did without understanding anything about it, and you came to the realization that I made no sense and was pointless, so you withdrew.
What is your soul nudging you towards is balance. As we saw, you're very focused on your physical life, but it is not a bad thing and actually something you needed in order to be the person you wanted to be in the world. But your soul is now calling for some adjustments in order to bring balance into that. At this point it mostly have to do with the way you think, because it seems that you're trapping yourself and refusing to move. You're being asked to take the blinds off and told you have all the power to do so. Now, do you want it right now? I think for some of you it may take a bit of time, but that's the next step anyway and what your soul is nudging you towards.
For challenges you will face, there will be some type of leap of faith to be made. A path that you may accept or reject and that will change your trajectory. You may need to leave your sense of comfort and security a bit here and let go of some of the clutter surrounding you so that you can leave space for change and these new energies. It comes as a challenge because I think you're very reluctant to change at the moment, even distrusting it a bit.
For what help is available, I think for some of you you may rely on the support of a female warrior power of some kind, be it a divinity or a female mentor figure with those qualities, whether in this world or in the other. This will help you stay grounded and make slow but deliberate movements. This support will help you feel secure through the changes and add a layer of protection. For some of you it's about embodying these female warrior qualities. Regardless of gender, it can be described at the need to defend yourself, honor your boundaries and fight for what you believe is right. You might be inspired by someone to act and think like that.
For what steps to take, there is a need to return to source, and it's clarified by two cups cards, the only ones in your reading. So you will be called to reconnect with your emotions, and to put to rest some of them that ate hindering you without you knowing because they are so bottled up. There is a need to make space before you can welcome anything new.
Final advice: you are completing a powerful cycle and, right now, you're tying up loose ends. You may still feel somehow like in a state of spiritual hibernation but worry not because its all part of the process. This is coming to an end as well. This phase is part of a larger developmental process, and i'm getting that help is available from your guides or spirits, however you want to call them or conceptualize them. So I think for you it will be very important to tune it within yourself and with your spiritual court and find the personal advice you need. This reading is general and meant for many people so it won't be able to be tailored to your needs. I really think you have all the answers you need within and that it's a matter of daring to see it and daring to take that leap of faith. You are not alone, you are supported and loved and help is available to you.
PILE 2
Cards: Two of Swords, Grindstone, Five of Wands, Leader, Ace of Wands, Abyss, Scapegoat, Sun rx, Hidden knowledge, Light Bearer, 9 of Pentacles, the Emperor rx, Hierophant, Staff of the Gods, Threshold Guardian, Mother Earth, Blood Ancestor, Spirit Guide, Home and Hearth
For where you currently are spiritually, you are undergoing an intense process of refinement of your self that is divinely guided to push growth. From your point of view, it's manifesting as a time of struggle and even inner conflict that is pushing you to take a stance and make a decision. What it is exactly will vary for different folks, but I'm pretty sure you know what I'm talking about because it's quite obvious it's creating some inner tensions that must be quite uncomfortable to experience. The message here is that it serves a bigger purpose and that the outcome will depend on your choice to create movement in a specific direction.
For what energies are surrounding you, with the combination of the Leader and the Ace of Wands, it definitely points at a very fiery, action oriented energy. You are called to embody the positive attributes of a wise and powerful leader who takes the matter into their own hands and do not let fate decide their path for them. While committed to move forward, you also do not loose sight of your values and what you care about, which is not about hesitating but rather being fully rooted in your beliefs and let that fuel you. So I think whatever change you are going through, it's not about an extreme shift of paradigm, but rather, deepening things powerfully and owning your choices fully.
I think in the past, you had a tendency to shift the blame and avoid owning up to your actions. There is a hint or arrogance, over confidence and egoism here with the Sun reversed, embodying the flaws of Leo when unbalanced. I think you have been through something that forced you to change the way you approach things, distance yourself from some practices or behaviors for example, which brought you to where you are now. This is a very precious knowledge you can rely on and I think it's what brought you to these positive leader qualities and made you wiser and more empathetic while keeping your very radiating and go-getter attributes.
For what you soul is nudging you towards, its really interesting that you get yet again another authority figure with the Emperor, although this time it is reversed. I'm seeing this as a warning to not over do the masculine side of yourself that risk making you too stubborn and rigid, but rather welcome some type of ease and receptiveness. You might be too serious and not pleasure oriented enough so there's definitely a need to balance things a bit, without changing your nature completely. I'm also getting with the Light Bearer that you are called to make a very positive impact on those around you and your community, to bring them Light in the dark through your work, actions, advice or knowledge. And this call would benefit greatly from adding a but of that compassionate and easy going energy i talked about above as it will help you connect with people but also help you stay happy and abundant by not burning yourself out too fast.
For the challenge you will face in this process, I'm strongly getting the need to step away from known religious or magical structures and to carve out your own path. However you will not be spiritually alone in this, but will rather be in direct contact with the spiritual powers, as in you will draw directly from the source in order to materialize and express what needs to be. It comes as a challenge because you are in uncharted territories, it's a lot of pressure and it's hard to know where to go since no one has been here before, or at least not in an obvious and easy to access way.
The good thing is that help is available in two ways. One, you do not have to worry about stepping somewhere you are not meant to, because these places are guarded and you will be facing a closed door if you go too far. So whatever it is, you are guided and protected on your path. The second thing is the wisdom of the Earth itself. I'm getting that you could get great help from the natural world and its spirits and non human inhabitants. You might benefit a lot from looking at natural phenomenon and learning the deeper meaning of them or connect with your local spiritual ecosystem. The Land itself could be a powerful ally too.
For what steps to take forward, you are strongly being called to connect with ancestors, and by that I don't mean solely ancestors or your lineage, but also those who share a connection with you because they walked on your path before you. Strong spirit worker vibe from this pile. This could mean trying to divine with them or honoring them and praying, which will allow them to help you. However, I would just remind you the need to do things in your own way and not simply copying and pasting other people's practices into your own, as we saw it was a very strong message for you. So try to be creative and think outside of the box but do remember that there is tremendous wisdom to be gained from those that came before you.
For the final advice, don't hesitate to connect with your spirit guides and those who are your spiritual home in order to find comfort, security and rest. Yes you are called to stand up for yourself, but you are certainly not alone and it is important to remember and share moments with your loved ones, from this realm and beyond. A second message is also to be careful about your energy levels and make sure you home is a suitable place for that magical and physically. You've got lots to do so take care of yourself and don't hesitate to reach out for help when you are struggling.
PILE 3
MASSIVE DISCLAIMER PLEASE READ
I do not want to fear-monger but this reading is very heavy and I'm pretty sure it's only going to apply to some of you. If you do not relate please do not worry and keep scrolling. If you do relate I hope you will find some hope in this. I really hesitated releasing this pile at all but I feel like it's more important to be truthful about the message that I received than making cool readings for tumblr… The message was hammered clearly but, again, I'm pretty sure it's meant for a very small amount of people, if not just one or two. Take care.
Cards: Place of Healing, Creator of Time, the Hanged Man, Archon & Aion, Bailiff, Death, Blood Ancestor, Premonition, 5 of Swords, Magical Temple, 6 of Cups, Knight of Wands, Spirit Guide, Death, Queen of Swords, Shamaness, 2 of Wands, Strength rx
Let's start by looking at where you are currently spiritually.
From your point of view, it might seems like not much is happening and that you are forced to stay still. You are focusing on healing deeply and slowly. Some of you might have been sick recently or going through some type of intense mental or physical form of stress and you are now in the process of rejuvenating yourself, forced to stay where you are because you cannot move further. However, something very important and new is being birthed here. Think as a seed being planted, or even further back, the initial spiritual spark of a seed before it reaches the physical plane. So yeah it might seem like not a whole lot is going on but there is something very powerful at play here that has a lot of transforming potential.
Okay… for the energies surrounding you, you got 3 cards directly referencing Death. It seems some of you are indeed seriously sick at the moment, or taking care of someone who is about to pass onto the other side, or dealing with a very recent loss and in the process of mourning. If that's not the case, worry not that just mean it isn't your pile! If you do relate to this, know that I really empathize with you and we'll see what advice is available to you shortly. Another possibility is that some of you might be working with the spirit of the deceased, or being surrounded by them heavily.
For what you've learned in the past that is relevant to your current situation, you got two cards referencing union and one referencing messaged from above. I really think this pile talks to people who have formed deep bonds with some type of divine or spiritual entity that taught them a lot through messages sent to them. It talks about commitment and a mutually beneficial relationship. Some of you could even be under some form of spiritual contract with these powers. In all cases this pile is quite involved spiritually.
For what you soul is nudging you towards, you got yet other cards referencing death. I think it's either referencing to someone who has passed away or is about to, and in both cases its a great loss for you. You might be called to help them pass to the other side, help them move on and acting like a mediumistic bridge. You might be experiencing premonition regarding this event before hand, or dream about them after the fact. You soul is nudging you to take on the role of a psychopomp and communicate with this deceased person. I think that's something you haven't done before and feel quite worried about but I think you are sort of forced by the circumstances.
For the challenges you will face, i think this whole experience will be very difficult for you because you've lost some type of home in this person and you get reminded of your common memories constantly. You might feel the need to power through that to skip the pain and focus on the task ahead in order to protect yourself from grief. I cannot tell whether its a good or bad thing as everyone processes grief differently, just pay attention to how you react; be patient and gentle with yourself.
The help available is your spirit guides (whatever that means for you) who are here to protect and sooth your soul. You are highly encouraged to reach out to them however you feel comfortable to and call their help. They are here for you in this difficult time and you should not hesitate relying on them.
Steps to take: you will be facing your primordial fear regarding death and endings, and you must take the necessary steps to honor that natural cycle of life. You do seem to have a very special relationship with it though and you are called to step up to that role. You must not hang onto what has been lost for that it is gone, but instead, embrace change with respect and reverence and let things follow their course on the other side. With the Queen of Swords, you are called to embrace this new perspective and the deep changes that come with it. You will need to be sharp with your mind and your intentions and show the way ahead for this soul. Again I'm getting this idea of being between the earth and the sky, like a bridge.
For the final advice, this experience you are or will be going through is a tale old as humanity itself. A very old form of magic. Its a powerful and raw time that will push you to take on a role you might have never considered. Your path is humble but extremely important. It will change the way you see the world and life. Now is not the time to doubt your power and abilities for you have all that's needed to succeed. Those who've left us leave a hole but they are also our strength. I'm getting that you might benefit from reading practices surrounding Death in different culture, or dive deeper into you own. Stories of old can help you navigate this situation greatly.
#pick a card#tarot reading#pac reading#divination#pick a card reading#pick a pile#pac tarot#pick an image#tarot#taroblr#tarot community#soaring wide#soaringwide#soaringwide tarot reading
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if you're hoping for joe 2.0 to get his 'revenge' in the second half of the series...
warning: mild novel spoilers (but also not really because i'm just discussing things that have been shown in the trailer)
i really think you should either drop the series or give up the hopes of a satisfying makjang revenge storyline in my stand-in instead of setting yourself up for disappointment. because that simply isn't the story that my stand-in is trying to tell.
so what is my stand-in about really?
well, for me i think its a romance tragicomedy drama about an idiotic scum male lead losing the person he loves most because of his own arrogance and refusal to listen to his heart and the series of unfortunate events that happened consequently for our protagonist who was living a peaceful and quiet life as a stunt actor before the scum male lead entered his life.
joe 2.0 and his approach to life
i've mentioned it twice now that one of my favorite traits of joe/zhou xiang is that kindness in his strength where even if he can be choose to be mean or cruel, he simply doesn't because he has such a soft heart and he's weak to see others in pain (joe is my fellow enfp people pleaser okay) (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ which is why even in his 2.0 life, you won't get to see joe turning 180 degree and going around to hurt everyone who's ever hurt him like it's some makjang kdrama.
and while that seems like it could be fun, i think the reason why i loved professional body double (my stand-in novel) so much in the first place is because that very distinction between joe and other rebirth/second chance at life protagonists that you often see in revenge kdramas/cdramas/thai lakorns.
logically, if my stand-in was a 24-episode one31 lakorn/thai soap opera, joe would be full of hatred and burning rage after his rebirth and started his intricated revenge plot while still falling in love with ming whom he should hate the most.
and yet he isn't (or at least it seems to me so far).
if you read the lyrics 'Die For You' - the opening ost of my stand-in, i think you can have a good guess of what the second half of the story will be like.
Even running away to death can't help.
If my heart had chosen to stop at you
I'll have to surrender with the confusion I feel.
To come back to the same old place.
Even if I have to die, disappear and then be reborn
But the love is still buried deep inside, even if it's been shattered into pieces
Even if my life ends, I can't stop my heart from calling out to you
Because this whole body, life, spirit
It is yours only, for all eternity.
and even from the trailer of my stand-in, you can tell that joe 2.0 has a lot of internal conflicting feelings about whether he could trust ming again after the betrayal he faced in his 1.0 life. and i feel like essentially the journey of ming proving to joe 2.0 that he really does love joe is very much the central plot in the second half part of the story.
so i'd like to take this part to note how well the series has done to adapt the novel so far. i think a good adapted change they've made is this early realization of feelings for ming in the joe 1.0 timeline. i do think the novel made him realized his feelings a little bit later but my stand-in did well to show within ep.3 what happiness could have looked like for joe 1.0 and ming and i think it rationalizes a bit more more for why joe 2.0 would still have feelings for ming 'buried deep inside' even when he's been badly hurt the first time around. and reading the story i've always found it interesting that they took this route to focus on the re-entangled complex relationship between mingjoe rather than going for a joe-centric revenge makjang plot (i swear if this was your typical thai lakorn, joe would seduce ming while planning to take down his whole family or something).
of course, that's not to dismiss that there's a lot of character growth for joe in the second half of the story, especially in his building of self-confidence, self-worth, the ability to put himself first and the fight for his own happiness above all. but like i've mentioned above, his growth journey is not at the expense of a drastic personality change in regards to the kind hearted joe we saw in his 1.0 life. instead, we get kind hearted joe 2.0 who quickly adapts to his new life and attempts to start anew while conflicted feelings resurface for him as he is pulled back into the relationships he once had.
all in all, my stand-in is still at the heart of it, a love story. perhaps, a dark romance as my friend @dragonsandphoenix would call it, but a romance nonetheless. i think that is what also makes professional body double such a compelling read too, because the progression in the feelings and complex emotions of these characters are so tightly written that it's convincing enough for me (maybe not for others though) to believe that yan ming xiu has/will always love zhou xiang (to the point ymx would probably eliminate anyone else who dared to steal zx from him). obsessive love? yes. do they both need therapy? probably. yet i still believe in their happy ending? of course.
final note/disclaimer: then again, this is just my PERSONAL opinions based on the novel and up til 3 episodes of my stand-in (which seems to be very faithful to the novel so far), who knows maybe they can anger novel fans and adapt it completely differently later on (something i sure hope they don't but we'll seeeee) ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ
#my stand in#my stand in the series#my stand-in#professional body double#my stand in novel spoilers#msi thoughts#poom phuripan#up poompat#claire opens up her goddamn mouth
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arepas
javier peña x f!reader
summary: when you’re single, it’s complicated. messy. he can’t think straight. Not as straight as he needs to be to keep his wits about him.
an: dedicated to the wonderful, the amazing @halfmoth-halfman - i told you that i'd write you something, and here it is. I hope it makes you smile as much as you make me smile.
word count: 9.3k (sorry, not sorry)
warnings: developing feelings, slow burn -> colleagues to friends to lovers. usual jo angst, but with lots of banter. fingering, p in v, angst, sweet ending, spoilers for narcos season two.
friend noun /frɛnd/ a person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relations. "she's a friend of mine."
It starts in Bogotá.
His eyes rake over you—the new pretty secretary who won't meet his eyes as though you’d heard all about him.
It's why he waits. Biding his time before gracing your desk. A file in hand, leaning down—forcing your eyes to meet his. Javi's smirk almost eclipses his face, only doing so when you lift your chin and he finds your lips have slid so far up one side as you stare at his hand.
Agent Pe—
I know who you are, Peña. Your reputation precedes you.
Good things, I hope?
Depends on who you ask.
You call him Peña all the time. Even as days slip into weeks, even if he insists you call him Javier or Javi. The tension building, thickening—just like a dish left on a hob.
He’s used to the whispers, but he’s not used to the ignorance. The way you don’t look at him like the others, instead always trying to find out what he needs from you, rather than what he wants.
It allows him the chance to study, to watch. Noticing the way you work, the way you converse easily with others and how you walk around the office like you barely notice him.
It wasn’t through a lack of trying why he hadn’t worsened his reputation. It wasn’t fear of fucking you, of muddying his place of work further—his focus, mission, objective wasn’t to keep the piece inside crumbling Colombian walls. It was more that the fact his usual tactics weren’t working even when his intention was there, clear as the sky on a sunny morning.
You seemed stressed.
Aren’t we all, Peña?
I know how to get around that…
I’ve heard.
It’s not that your tongue is quick or icy—it’s that you do it all without looking at him. You bite back without lifting your eyes or turning to him when he stands beside you. An indifference he had usually woven under in the time you’ve been here, but finding troublesome with you.
So, he tries smiling when smoke swirls around the ceiling fan, and you drop a file off; he drops his voice when he bumps into you by the water machine, holding your sight—commanding it. Which is why he notices the irritation simmering in yours. Growing, and grating more so by his mere breath, never mind his words.
You don’t like me much.
I don’t know you.
You could. Know me.
What would be the point, Peña? You don’t listen, you interrupt everyone, you fuck everything with a pulse—
Tell me how you really feel, hermosa.
I’m trying, but once again, you’re only half listening.
Determined—that’s how he was often described.
It was, for this reason, that he has poured so many of his years into catching Escobar. Why he’d looked for whores to get information, not banking on caring and emotions. It’s why he hadn’t looked for anything outside of a quick fuck, a friend, or a sense of belonging—he didn’t have another ounce left in him. It was all spent on the reason he was here: narcos.
There had been others, naturally. Not all bent to his charm, even if the majority did. He should add you to the list, to the small pile that had amassed through the building and beyond.
Javi doesn’t.
And it doesn’t get better, easier. You decline his invites for drinks, even if you do begin to aid him. You refuse grabbing food for lunch with him, even if you have started taking paperwork off him to type up. You’ve even begun making comments, funny ones about his typing abilities, even shooting him a smile as you travel back to your desk. Yet, you don’t even let him drive you home when your car isn’t working.
Purposefully, you’re a bag of mixed messages. Not because you decline him but because he cannot find a rational reason as to why. You’ve begun moving his paperwork up, but you flirt back. Flimsy, thin excuses find your tongue quicker when he invites you to drinks, not even just with him.
You’re confusing. A brand of difficult he hadn’t had the opportunity to circle before, something which bothers the shit out of him.
Which is why he’s coating his throat in whiskey—getting through his pack of Marlboro’s quicker than he usually would be in a bar like this.
Because, while he doesn’t get you, he hates work functions more. Despising with each growing minute that he’s at one.
He prefers to choose his company—paid or unpaid. And the sole reason he’d even gone in the first place was to get you to stop calling him Peña—and to keep the CIA away from you.
He ends up being successful at one of those things. It’s not that he wasn’t sure how to befriend women, just that he usually chooses not to. He ruins any possibility of it by turning on the charm, having their blouse in his fingers and his hand stuffed in their lace. Even for all his charm, it is hard to get them back on his side when he doesn’t call them, or mistakenly calls out the wrong name or avoids them.
It’s why he knows his name is dirt amongst several secretaries. He’s aware of how gossip spreads like wildfire amongst the secretaries, receptionists, file room assistants, watching it happen as their eyes glisten when he walks past, their whispers dropping an octave when he is within ears reach.
You don’t partake in it. Digging your pretty eyes into him rather than fluttering your eyelashes. You can put those puppy-dog eyes away, Peña. I’m immune to putas. You can wait like everyone else. Chin lifting at the last second, smothering him in stifled stress and a please-don't-push-me-look. It’s how he learnt you were going for drinks with the CIA, how he discovered the bar and time.
Why he went in the first place.
It crossed his mind this could be the night. He could keep you company, find a way in when your wall was down because of the liquor on your tongue. The moment fizzled when he chose to be a gentleman—helping you into his car, guiding you into your place. Even holding your hair back as you vomited the contents of your stomach out. Maybe he should have warned you about doing shots with Jacoby in the first place, but then, he wouldn’t be alone with you.
See the way you put your weapons down and looked at him pitifully when you couldn’t get the key in your door.
I’ve got you, Bonita.
Bet you say—hiccup—that to all the whores.
You’re not a whore.
No. No, I’m not.
He’d expected you to push him, fight him once inside your place, but you were silent. Occasionally frowning with glossed-over eyes as he continued to help you. You even allow him to help you to bed—without so much as removing his clothes. He’d been almost out of your bedroom door when he heard it:
Still gonna call you Peña, Peña.
I know, bonita. There’s a glass of water on your table.
It played on his mind.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t be chivalrous, just that it was rare. Stuffed down into his tight jeans and under layers of Colombian grief. While he cares about the people in his life, even the ones at arms reach—the ones he pays and the ones he takes home from a hard day—he doesn’t show it. Keeping it tightly wrapped and away, not willing to let simple and futile emotions blur the lines of why he was here.
So it surprises him when you leave him a thank you.
A small note on his desk attached to a bottle containing amber and a large packet of Marlboros.
Still think you’re an asshole, Peña.
It was the worst thank you note he’s ever had, yet it made him smile. Unthreads annoyances of his day, sewing in a piece of niceness in a tapestry of shit.
What he did know is that the window of sleeping with you was growing smaller, only fully shutting on him when he uncapped the bottle and poured you a glass when you knocked on his door for his signature. The small office he resided in—all dark, simmering with disappointment and failure after another dead end. Not that you commented on it—even if your eyes narrowed and your lips spread thin.
You were polite like that. Didn’t call into question or hold a mirror up to him. Just let him be. Tapping your glass against his, his eyes watching as you take a sip—not hissing, not flinching as the taste slides down your throat. Not even when it collects somewhere in your stomach. If anything, you smile.
Running his hand along his chin, letting his eyes roam as you take in the walls—the files. Your glass teetering on your bottom lip, painted in a shade he wanted staining on various parts of his body—
“Surprised you’re having a drink with me, Peña,” you say, all airy and light—glancing over your shoulder, shining him in mischievous twinkles. “Especially when you could be… paying for better company.”
He snorts at that, lets a laugh escape—puncture the air. “You know, you bring it up so often, bonita. I’m beginning to think you’re jealous.”
“Not in the slightest—I don’t do one-night stands.”
“Two night stands?” He muses.
And you smirk. Gloriously. Wide and large, the closest he’s gotten you to smile. “If it’s good enough to go back again, why stop at twice?”
He struggles for a retort, the acidic nature of it being swallowed by whiskey as he raises his glass to his lips.
Then it shifts the conversation. Returns to normal, safer topics, finding he snorts a few more times as the drinks flow. Even finding you pull a rich laugh from him—one that erases some of the tension, unknots his shoulders from his ears.
It isn’t until he hears the sweetness of your laugh that he finds that a quarter of the bottle has gone. The paper you’d come in to have signed, still at the top of a forgotten pile.
You weren't looking, having already turned your back to him, eyes fixed on the wall—the little pins and photos. Allowing him to run his eyes along your back, to your clothe-covered hips and the curves that had been front and centre of his thoughts when he fucked his fist. Your name has been simmering on his tongue for weeks, since you’d been introduced.
Something stopping him from acting on his thoughts, from standing up and coming up behind you. That very thing being the foundation of what he’d been after from the start.
“Am I still an asshole, bonita?” He asks when he finally signs the sheet.
You take the paper, offering a softer smile with a head tilt. “We should drink in your office again. You’re less of one in here, Javi.”
“It’s cheaper.”
“Cheaper?”
You groan, and he slides his hand over his face to hide his smile.
“Fine, Peña—“
“Javi. Come on, bonita. We made progress.”
Glaring, you straighten your spine. “Javi, I wanna eat greasy food in a baggy t-shirt and watch shit TV that I can only partially keep up with. Do you want to do that with me?”
How could he say no? “Do I have to eat greasy food?”
“Yes. It’s the law.”
Snorting, he picks up the file, tapping the end of your desk. “I’ll be there around nine.”
You’re everywhere.
He begins finding you at his favourite food stand, conversing with the owner, grin so large it hits your eyes. Another time, you’re at the shop on the corner near his place, brown bag in hand, a knowing nod sent his way when you pass.
It throws him off, continuing to do so until it changes, and he comes to expect you. Doesn’t brace or freeze, but welcomes you. Leaning into it that you’re there, everywhere he doesn’t expect you to be. Slowly, bleeding across his life, planting yourself in the soil he hadn’t known surrounded him.
Your name falls from his lips with simplicity, you call him Javi as though it’s all you’ve ever called him.
Things shifting, changing just like the temperature in Bogotá. He chooses to sit beside you when he spots you at the bar, and not close to the table who were giggling and whispering at his arrival. He opts to ask you for help, over the secretary who has been giving him heart-shaped eyes since she heard something or another.
Javi is smart, and isn't an idiot. He knows it has shifted. Changed.
For the better, he isn’t entirely sure.
He finds comfort in you in a way he doesn’t usually pay for. The desire to fuck you because you were attractive lessening, and rather because, on some level, he suspected he actually liked you. Especially when you invited him for drinks at yours, instead of a bar.
It was easier not to question it. To not change. To not ask and ruin it. He went round to yours, or you to his. A gap forming, welcomed and strong. Javi fucked who he wanted to fuck, and sought companionship (fully clothed, a glass of liquor variation in hand) from you. The contents of it shifted depending entirely on the situation. Sometimes, it was accompanied by home-cooked food, and sometimes he brought warm trays in a bag that you groaned in appreciation upon arrival.
Javi told himself you reminded him of Laredo. Of high-school friends and easy laughter. You reminded him of girls who never became more than friends, the ones he’d grown apart from when they settled and married, and he ran as far away as possible.
That and he just liked your company. You made it easy. You were his… Friend.
You were something different than what he had with Carillo. Something other than the partnership he was now bedding in with Murphy.
You had embedded yourself as much in work as you were out of it. As time ticked on, his brain slowly filled with useless information about likes and dislikes in a drawer in his mind, he marked just for you. They weren’t things he usually didn’t care to know about anyone. Not since he’d been in Colombia. Not since he’d been in Laredo, where he’d never been short of a friend to two.
Being your friend became a thing he suddenly wanted to cling to. Not wanting to lose it—lose you, not wanting to fuck it up.
So, he didn’t.
Even if you looked at him with pretty eyes, dragging your tongue across your bottom lip. Even if sometimes the silenced humming with something different, something less friendly.
He cared.
Really cared. He found himself annoyed if you seemed a little off, and found himself wanting to make you smile. The two of you spread past the line into an area out of his usual wheelhouse. Friendship. A relationship that had him around your place so many nights a week, tucking into spirits and beer you’d begun keeping just for him. It was normal. Nice.
Or it was, until you curled into one side of the sofa, him on the other. Your foot isn’t close to his thigh, no leg draped over his—your behaviour not like normal.
He’d put it down to another shit date. One he’d been tortured with hearing about—the only downside to the arrangement, the friendship.
But, as you wrap your fingers around your calf, he realises it isn’t the date, the bad food or the day.
“Being your friend is kinda hard.”
Frowning, he sits up a little more. “Why?”
You shrug. He doesn’t like it when you do. You have answers, usually quick ones. A shrug meaning you don’t or you’re afraid of speaking them—letting them ball and fester in your throat.
“‘Cause you do thoughtful shit, and it makes me think things.”
He bites his smirk, and savours it. Knowing and understanding more than he can acknowledge as he folds his arms. “Not a smart move, thinking about me, hermosa.”
“Don’t I know it.”
"Bonita...."
"Why'd you call me that?"
You don't ask it rudely, more questionably. Brows knitting together in confusion as you watch him.
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Not in the slightest."
He smirks, letting out a sharp laugh. "Go get another drink, bonita."
“So, the two of you haven’t… you know?”
Leaning in the chair, he stares at him. “No. We haven’t.”
“I don’t believe you?”
Smirking, he shifts his hips. “Go ask her. She’ll say the same.”
He snorts. “You’re telling me you go round her place, have fun, laugh, and leave—I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it, Murphy.”
It’s hard not to call back to the words spoken that night.
Let them loop around and around, wrap themselves around other phrases—micro-expressions and bothersome avoidance.
Your eyes were dark, chin resting on your knee, looking at him as though you wanted to burn everything to the ground. He’d swallowed, and hesitated—two things he never did.
But with you, he wasn’t exactly himself.
You had found a way to unlock a part of him he kept away from everyone else. He was still an asshole, still selfish and cocky. But he also bit back more around you and found ways to annoy you playfully, rather than to piss you off.
“Here.”
“You bought me a book?”
He smirks, gripping his arms as he watches you turn it over, “You like reading.”
Smirking, you scan the blurb, your brain trying to translate it quickly. “What gave you that impression?”
Shrugging, he trails a finger across his bottom lip. The signature smirk started growing, spreading, eclipsing whatever was there previously.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, hermosa. I see you reading on your lunch.” He looks you up and down. “Thought you could do with some fresh material.”
“So you bought me a romance book.”
Dropping his arms, he rolls his lips. “Everyone needs a little romance in their life, don’t they?”
“Well, you’re the expert. I hear you’ve been getting some “romance” nightly,” you smirk, placing the book down.
He had.
Almost determined to do so. Needing to bury himself to the hilt in others to distract him from you. Secretly thinking of you, trying to imagine the way your skin would feel under his calloused palms.
“Jealous, bonita?”
Smiling, you tilt your head. “Why? I’ve got a romance book.”
He tries to tell himself he’s not affected by you.
That it’s protectiveness why he sits at the bar in the restaurant you’re in. Why he chooses a seat where he can see the reflection in the mirror behind the liquor bottles, able to see you without watching you.
He tells himself it’s to ensure you’re okay. Nothing else. The convincing goes well until your finger taps him on the shoulder, practically dragging him outside by his elbow.
The cooler temperature bites his skin, but your eyes full of fire keep him warm. Digging into him, inflicting flames that lick at muscle and bone.
“Why are you here, Peña?”
He masks a shudder. “Don’t… don’t call me, Peña—“
“—you fucked all the whores?”
“I was drinking.”
Raising your brow, you fold your arms. “You’re ruining my date.”
He lets his eyes drop. Knowing he is. He knew he would when he scrunched the piece of paper in his hand as he overheard you talking about some black dress and little heels for it.
The same ones you’re standing in front of him in, looking nothing short of radiant—the slightest shiver misting over you.
“You deserve better.”
Folding your arms, you sigh. “What, like you?”
He runs a hand over his chin, leaning against the wall. “No, bonita. Better than me.”
You bite the inside of your lip, the shiver more obvious. So much so, he removes his jacket, considering draping it over you, but instead hands it to you.
“Look, I know I ruined your date, but he’s an asshole.”
Swallowing, you let out a heavy breath. “I’m mad at you, but… he really is awful.”
He smothers his relief. Ensures his tone is normal as he murmurs, “Yeah?”
Nodding, you bite your lip. “Can you… could y—“
“Go get your bag, hermosa.”
It’s quiet, the car ride.
Your knee nervously bounces, the fabric of your dress rising up your thigh as you do.
He’s being tested. He’s sure of it. Adamantly so when he pulls up outside yours, and you invite him in. It’s confirmed when you tell him to help himself while you change, stepping into your room.
A version of him wanting to follow. To place his hand on the back of your neck, the other tilting your chin up, kissing the name of your date tonight. Pulling your body close, making it forget it ever shivered from anything less than pleasure.
He thinks about it as he fills his glass, and keeps yours empty. Javi thinks it as his jeans become tight and his pulse quickens, wondering if you sprayed your perfume anywhere other than your neck and wrist—whether you’d taste as sweetly as you say his name. Whether you’d dig your nails in when he stuffed you full of him—
“Not pouring me one?”
Blinking, you’re in his T-shirt and some leggings.
The former is something you’d borrowed when you’d spilt food on your blouse. A band tee, one from a concert when he was younger and happier, and less confused what the fuck all of this meant.
He hadn’t realised how much he had been holding himself back until you sank onto your sofa, looking serious—brows and forehead creasing.
It made him want to nurse it out of you, find a solution to stop you from worrying or overthinking.
“You’ve never tried to sleep with me.”
He scoffs, loud and undignified. The sentence catches and cuts through the air. All the letters of it punctuated by a thin silence, lightly chopped—not allowing interjection or regret.
You're waiting.
Nervously. Plucking your bottom lip between your white teeth like you’re picking guitar strings.
He considers telling you the truth. That fucking you had been the sole and only intention for a long time. Seeing if you could bend in two, what noises you would make—see if he could get you to chant his name.
That had been his goal… until it wasn’t.
Javi drains his glass, knowing you’re astute. That you work with agents of all kinds—you hold your fucking own around all sorts of them. So you know (of course you know) when someone is lying—so he offers something else entirely.
A slither of truth, an offering of it—if that.
“Didn’t wanna fuck this up, bonita.”
You take a sip of your own, not smiling, not smirking. Silence thumps between the two of you as you likely process the information, both in word form and in heavy silence. Then you land your eyes on him, something blossoming in them, spreading and taking over as they seemingly darken like the sky before a storm.
“That because you don’t think you could make me come, Peña?”
He spreads his palm against his jeans, resting the glass against his other as he drags his eyes to the floor. Biting the inside of his cheek. Wondering to himself why he’d stopped trying so quickly, knowing he was usually much more persistent. His perseverance was why he was still here, hunting Escobar. Yet, he’d folded like a piece of fucking paper when it came to you.
“Fine,” you commented, placing your glass down. “If we… don’t want to fuck this up. I think we need a codeword. An unsexy one. One that sorta tells the other to stop doing whatever they’re fucking doing….”
“Because…?”
You give him a look, a sharp one with soft edges. “Because we’re friends, right?”
He nods.
“So, as friends, I need a word to shout at you when you’re… Peñaring.” Frowning, he watches you smirk. “Javi, you’re handsome. And I spend… I spend more time with you than anyone else. The whole time I was on that date, I was thinking of you—and then there you fucking were. Being my friend.”
No. He thinks.
Knowing inside of him he wasn’t there to be your friend, but something he can’t quite acknowledge. A thing which vibrates inside of him, that gallops when you’re around and worsens when you’re not.
A thing he cannot give into. Not with what he does.
Not with what happened to Helena…
The remembrance, the horrid wake-up call that continues to paralyse him. The larger need to keep you safe.
“You like whores and quick-fucks. I like fucking one person who will only fuck me while they’re fucking me. And, I need the word—a word—because we spend a lot of time together, and you look like you do.”
His lip twitches, his moustache moving as he drags his eyes back to you. Unsure how you haven’t thrown it out there that you looking the way you do is also a problem.
As though you’re ignoring how fucking sinful you always look—especially in his fucking clothes.
He doesn’t because, if anything, he doesn’t hate the idea. Not immediately. Somewhat struggling to hide the way you make his cock twitch when you flirt, when you lean on his desk, the top two buttons undone on your blouse. That he sometimes fucks and wishes it was you and not the woman he’s chosen.
The two of you toeing the line of being friends to the point it sometimes makes his head hurt and his cock throb.
“What you got in mind?”
“Apuñalarme?”
He shouldn’t be surprised you’d thought of a word. Always methodical, always thinking ahead.
“Thinkin’ that one could be taken the wrong way.”
Frowning, you reach forward for some of the leftovers. “How?”
He stares, and then he swallows. “Well, I could stab you with my co—“
“OKAY. Fine. Who knew it would be so hard to pick a word to keep our friendship intact? What about… arepa?”
Taking a sip of his drink, his brow slowly arched.
“Well, it’s food—“
“Food can be sexy, bonita.”
“Yes, but if I said arepas, I don’t think: fuck me, Peña—I think fuck I could really eat some stuffed arepas with my friend Peña. Plus, we can then use it around people, ‘cause they’ll just think I’m after food.”
He plays with the glass, staring at your coffee table as he takes it in. Considering it. Finding it plausible—a good enough excuse. A thing to say other than ‘I don’t wanna hear about you going on a date, bonita’—probably around the same as you don’t wanna hear about his conquests.
You’re nervous, teeth picking at your skin.
Something blooming in his chest, smothering warmth across his heart and skin. You want to be his friend—you want him in your life.
“Alright, bonita, let’s give it a go.”
You pout, sighing. “You driving me home?”
“Arepas.”
“Funny, Peña. So funny.”
“You made the rule, bonita.”
Rolling your lips, he watches as you fold your arms under your dress. The fabric flows, blowing around your legs. “I can make this hard for you.”
“That so?”
He should have guessed it from the smirk alone.
“I’m not wearing any underwear,” you say, pulling on his door handle and stepping in before slamming it.
Leaving him processing, eyes staring at where you’d just been standing.
It became complicated in Medellín.
The routine, the lines—the friendship.
Everyone is forced all under one roof. The closer proximity means he has to listen to how the others talk to you, how you smile, and how you laugh with every single person. He can’t avoid your laugh—especially the ones you force from bad jokes. Javi has to listen to how others talk about you and how they describe the way they look at you.
He also has to deal with how your perfume simmers in the air here, how it lingers and clings, even if he does his best to drown it out with smoke.
In truth, he knows he is just annoyed that you’re even there, to begin with. And, not in Bogotá—where you would have been safer.
And, as annoying as he finds it, Javi supposes you must suffer through your fair share. His eyes catch yours when someone has called for him, his voice low, a smirk halfway up his face until he sees you ducking your head.
At the end of the first few days, he realises he misses his evenings with you back in Bogotá. Now, he has to share you in the open office space or hope you’re both free to go to one of the shitty bare rooms you’d both been given.
Yours at least was more private, Messina having fought for you to have your own as soon as you were relocated to her.
“Jealous, Peña?”
“Yes, hermosa. You don’t have to share with Murphy.”
It worsens when he learns you’re single again.
You populate his thoughts all over again, having previously stifled them when he knew you were taken. Now that the few month-long situation-ship with someone from the president's building had ended, he found you half a bottle of wine down in your room with several sad Spanish songs.
When you’re single, it’s complicated. Messy.
He can’t think straight. Not as straight as he needs to be to keep his wits about him. Before, he could convince himself that flirting is just how the two of you talk. He could comment slyly how he could give you a reason to be silent or him unable to tear his eyes off you when you bend down to get him something from the bottom shelf.
Even if you’re taken, he thinks arepas repeatedly as you look up at him with wide eyes and gloss-covered lips. But, it’s harmless when you’re unavailable—a foundation of who the two of you were. Now it was confusing again.
Especially when you begin wearing tight jeans. And you wait until Murphy leaves to pull his chair across and place a bottle on his desk.
“I need to get drunk.”
Blowing into a spare mug, Javi slams it down next to the bottle. “We can’t leave the base.”
“No, we cannot.”
“Any reason as to why you wanna get drunk?”
You uncap the bottle, glaring at him as you clamp your lips together. The sound of alcohol sloshing into the mug before you begin pouring him one.
“Hermosa…”
You take a mouthful from the mug, flicking your eyes to him as he leans back, whispering your name.
“I’m frustrated.”
“Messina busting your—“
“Not like that, Javi.”
It takes him a second.
A second too long for him, and then he almost chokes on his drink. “Arepas.”
Rolling your eyes, you lean back in Murphy’s chair. “You asked.”
His thoughts run ahead of him. The idea of pressing you against the desk, hooking a finger in a belt loop as he tugs your tight jeans to your thighs. The way you’d moan his name—not Javier, Javi. Your hands splayed across his desk, taking everything he—
“—so I need to get drunk because otherwise, I’m going to jump someone, because this job is stressful, and I miss my place, my… privacy, and I also miss food truck nights.”
Swallowing, he places his mug down.
“I need to have sex—“
“—Arepas—“
“But by someone who won’t lord it over me.”
You stare at your mug, swirling it—biting the bottom of your lip as you do.
And he’s all set to tell you that you drive him crazy, that he’d make you feel good—you just have to ask. His hand slides across the desk, all set to tug your hand closer as he mumbles it.
Then fucking Murphy arrives.
Him slamming a mug down next to the bottle, muttering about crashing the party as he massages his temple and slides back into his chair.
It consumes him. The thoughts which he has let run free in the brief moment with you. How he’d fill you and make you hiss his name and make you come undone until you had no thoughts left.
If he thinks he’s alone, you show your cards when he’s helping you move your bed.
Your eyes are on him as he leans against the metal frame, staring off as he processes how he will have to move it. He doesn’t notice that the edge of his tan shirt has risen until he feels your eyes on him.
“Arepas!”
He flinches, ripped from his thoughts as he blinks, turning to look at you, watching you shift on the spot, a slow realisation coming to him as to why you shouted it. A smirk so large spreading, not even trying to hide it.
“I haven’t… I haven’t even fuckin’ done anything.”
You fold your arms, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks, the pulse in your ears. “Yes, well… I’ll move the bed myself.”
“Bonita?”
“—I gotta go—“
“This is your room.”
But you’re already heading to the door, flustered. He calls your name, but you’re gone—leaving him with only your scent and the last trailing sound of your voice.
For a second, staring at the empty doorway, not hating it for one minute, all of it evidenced by the growing smirk on his face.
The one not easily rid, even by the end of the day.
“Your room is…. nice?”
He sniggers, grabbing his jacket as you stand awkwardly. “Y’alright, bonita?”
Swallowing, you narrow your eyes when they land on him. Not cutting, but assessing. “Why have I heard from two separate people that they’ve been warned from me?”
Shrugging his shoulders, he slides his arms into his jacket, frowning—painting it on thickly, maybe even by too much.
“Javi.”
“What?”
You look at him, challenging him. Looking every bit like the secretary he met in Bogotá and less like the friend he’s come to know you as.
“Did you warn people from asking me out?”
Adjusting his jacket, he sighs. “Yeah. I did.”
Javi knows many things about you.
Some he has learnt against his will, others he’s learnt from watching you. One thing he knows, more than anything else, is that you’re never late. Not even if the world was on fire.
It’s why it coils inside him when he’s standing at the stairwell waiting for you. It chills him, prickles something inside. And then, it knots as his watch ticks on ripples out as more seconds become minutes.
He must shift, stress rolling off of him as he finds Steve’s brow raised, flicking his eyes up at him before shaking his head.
“Go on. I’ll let Messina know you’re both on your way.”
He doesn’t thank him, even if he makes a note to do so later. His feet taking the steps two at a time. Palm brushes over people as he moves them so he can get to your door quicker.
It’s his sole thing, a crystallising focus that glimmers like a goal, a light around your door as he makes a beeline for it. For you. Not slowing or stopping until he’s outside of it, his knuckles hammering into it.
He tries not to smirk at the expletives he hears, the mix of English and Spanish coming from the other side. The beautiful blend he’s heard so often when you’ve dropped food, wine or burnt yourself.
“One minute—“
“It’s me, bonita.”
He expects to hear a noise. Javi doesn’t expect a pause. A lengthy one.
“Oh.”
Oh? He thinks.
“Um, Javi, just gimme….”
It bubbles.
It fucking roars. It produces steam and fire—all of it feeling a lot like jealousy. Because: do you have someone in there with you? His jaw tightens at the idea, almost snapping into pieces, hammering against his feet. He hears a loud crash to the floor, shattering. His mind conjures images of two pairs of feet (at best), two awkward souls trying to move around one another littered by a sea of expletives and hisses.
“Bonita… open the f—door.”
He doesn’t mean to use a tone. Unable to cage it, the fury which doubles and triples inside of him. Only just about managed to stifle the word fucking from being in the sentence.
Javi regrets it when you rip open your door, standing with more skin on show than he’s ever seen. Your privacy is covered by the thinnest pieces of black lace possible—lace that would be easy to snap, to rip from you as he drags his eyes up and down.
Unable to think; unable to process—
“I overslept.”
“…Bonita…”
“I am running late.”
“I can see that.”
You jab him, light, making your body twist as you do. Something he can’t tear his eyes from, least of all when you turn, his feet following. It’s autopilot as he shuts your door behind him, not hearing another person—the anger and jealousy simmering at knowing you’re alone.
You’re just… in your underwear.
Around him.
“Arepas.”
“What?” you call out, bending down, grabbing clothes as he averts his eyes.
His brain forces his feet to come to a stop, his hand adjusting himself as he tries to swallow. Because whatever he’d imagined you’d look like, has just been beaten—you’re… fucking gorgeous.
“Nothing,” he manages, staring around your place. Finding a bottle of half-drunk wine on the desk—sat beside one glass. “You had a fun night without me?”
You laugh, turning to face you, finding you with trousers on. “I… I’m struggling to sleep… here.”
He can relate.
“How was Gabby?”
He pulls a face, wiping a hand over his face. “Yeah—she’s fine.”
You fasten your blouse, moving towards him, closer and closer, until you’re in front of him, and his mind is fucking blank.
“You’re standing over my shoes, Javi.”
It shouldn’t stick to him—your words. But they do. How they’re sickly sweet, how they clag and cling to the edges of his mind as he tries to concentrate. He’s typing, and then he’ll replay it, fingers pausing on the heavy keys of the typewriter.
Fuck.
Not able to tear his fucking eyes off of you. Not that you have noticed. You barely look his way with the mountain of shit Messina’s given you to do in one day. Hammering down on you, reminding them all they can’t make mistakes—more so since the toilet debacle. The heaviness of how close they’d been weighed on them. All of them.
So close.
He watches you stand up, calling after someone as you do a little run in your heels until there’s none of you left to watch. Staring at where you’d been, somehow still flickering between seeing you the way he saw you this morning and the well-put-together version just in here.
“What’s up with you?
“Nothing.”
Steve snorts, leaning against the wall. “Y’sure?”
“Yeah.”
“‘cause you look like—“
“She answered the door in her fuckin’ underwear.”
Steve widens his eyes, pulling out his cigarettes. “And that’s something you’ve not seen before?”
He glares. Chewing a retort as he furiously stubs out his cigarette.
“Alright, so, now what?”
“I have no fucking idea.”
“Your word come in use?”
He shoots another glare, watching his partner hold his hands up.
“Not fucking helping, Murphy.”
“The fuck you mean she was sent to take some papers?”
Him storming out of the building, hearing Murphy close behind.
Not thinking. Thumb brushes over his fingers as something surges through him. Thumping. Building. Pushing past people, moving out of the way from the ones he comes into contact with, stepping out into the warm air as he sees hell.
Men bleeding, carried by other men. His heart in his throat, furiously pounding, unsure where to start, where to go—
Then he sees you.
Time slows, people coming to a halt as he watches you and his feet begin to move. His hands guide him past people, walking and walking until he pulls you close—not caring for the blood on his shirt from your head, or the way you whimper when you crash into him.
He meets your eyes, staring into them, finding his throat dry as he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “Arepas.”
“Arepas…” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.
When it rains, it pours.
It’s what he thinks as he sinks another glass, elbowing digging into the desk, all set to shout at Messina to leave him alone, suspecting she had returned.
But then, he’d seen you.
Face lit up by the yellowing light, a softness to your features and a shyness to your frame.
Javi isn’t sure what he’s expecting. Whether the guilt would shift at the sight of you, whether the sadness would stop laying on thickly.
For a second, nothing happens.
He doesn’t move. You don’t move.
And then he’s standing, and you’re crossing the room, pulling him close, hands around him as you keep him close. It’s friendly, he thinks—suspects. A simple hug. Something the two of you have done only a handful of times, but twice so recently.
In the fog of regret and alcohol, he can barely convince himself, his grip on it lost when you’re in his lap. His face in your neck, bathed in you—the distinct scent which clings to some of his clothes, the warmth he feels when he knows he shouldn’t.
It’s easy, simple—and also everything.
Shards of himself held in place by your grip on him, his own hand placing the glass down so he can clutch you that much tighter.
It isn’t him. A thing he’s acutely aware of, yet he buries his face into your neck. Breath dancing along your neck, feeling you still, wondering if you’re thinking the word as he is when you pull back, eyes meeting his.
“Oh, Javi…”
He chews his tongue, lessening his hold on you. Allowing you to move—giving you free rein to leave.
“Messina send you?”
You stand, tilting the bottle beside the glass, staring at the label. Your silence fills the gaps, finding the cracks of regret and guilt, layering itself thickly in it.
Answer me, he thinks. Almost wanting to command it.
“Boni—“
“No,” you say, curt, sharp.
Your eyes dig in, taking a step back, running the back of your hand over your forehead.
“Didn’t… I haven’t even seen her.”
He could speak, but it would be useless. No words can conjure that would make any of it okay—heaviness adding in bulk to his shoulders as he stands. Making his legs feel like jelly and his spine wanting to bend.
And then, he’s walking towards you, your back meeting a wall as he presses you against the wall, keeping you close. Just like you were minutes ago.
He traces the tip of his nose against your cheek, catching the scent of your perfume. Your eyes are on him, watching his movements as he places his hand on your hip.
“Arepas…”
He snorts, pressing his forehead softly against yours. “You want me to stop, bonita?”
Your lips twitch, eyes flicking.
A thousand thoughts dashing and darting in the shades he has memorised. Then you’re moving closer, mouth delicately pressing against his—testing, teasing. Saying no wordlessly.
It’s easy to return it, to give in—to kiss you like he has thought about since your name fell from your lips. A thousand missed moments and building will-they-won’t-they slamming into the both of you.
It’s why it shifts, his mouth not being gentle, his grip more desperate. His tongue sliding past your teeth, your hips flush against his as you curl your fingers into his hair.
He’s on fire. Scorched. Changed.
Flashes of you standing in the doorway in your underwear blending with the feel of you right now, how your lips move against his like the two are you well-versed in kissing one another.
“Dreamt about you, bonita.”
You murmur at his words, whimpering at his teeth, latching on the space under your lobe and neck.
“Thought of the sounds I’d make you make….”
“Fuck, Javi...”
Your nails dig into his neck, pulling and twisting him so you can marry your lips back to his. You kiss him like you want to conquer him, and own him. Something you’ve done since the moment you met—something he responds with how he licks into your mouth. Just pausing at your moan, tasting it—capturing it.
Your lips part as you clutch his cheek, breath ghosting as he lets dark brown wash over you. “I’m here. I’m here, Javi.”
He knows what you mean, what you’re implying: I’m here, you need someone, I’m yours.
The sound of him swallowing sounds louder, sharper—even against his ears as he flicks his sight over you. You’re better than it, better than him. You’re too good, too perfect—something he doesn’t want to break, snap or ruin.
Sometimes, you’re the only thing that feels untouched, unblemished. You were the one who saw him after he’d gotten back from the brothel. When Carillo…
He blinks, finding your fingers still on his cheek, eyes still on him—but he’s unsure if he’s misheard you. Misunderstood.
You don’t do quick fucks.
But you’re clever. You’re always fucking clever. Kissing him, hooking a finger in a belt loop, pulling him flush. As you show him that you mean it.
“Need you, Javi. Just you.”
He growls, moving you to push you down on the awkward, creaking bed. He watches dumbfounded as your fingers begin to aid the removal of your clothes. Exposing skin, inch by inch, to him—looking every bit inviting as you have done since the first day he fucking met you.
Throwing your trousers to some distant corner, he parts your knees with his waist, pushing the damp green lace to the side, as he coats his finger in your want.
“Javi…”
“You suit green, bonita.”
He eases a finger in, watching your mouth part as he does.
“But, I can’t stop picturing that black set.”
“Like it, did you?”
It’s breathy, desperate. Your lips ghost over his as he stiffens, pausing his ministrations, needing to look you in the eyes.
“It’s all I’ve thought about since, bonita.”
Leaning over, he captures your moan, sliding in another finger as his name vibrates against his lips. Your eyes are so full of adoration, lust and want—it almost shatters him—but it’s the desperation that coils around him. The neediness which is falling from your lips makes him want more.
He’s thorough, listening to your whines, finding each place inside you that makes you twitch and moan. He’s learning you, studying every inch, so he can please you from the get-go—if he ever gets the chance again.
It’s his knuckle that undoes you the first time, rolling quick circles around the bundle of nerves which has fingers in his hair and your breath against his cheek.
Javi, fuck—you, Javi, you.
His breathing is shallow when you come down, feeling your hands—shaky but determined—tugging him to join you in being naked, his hand grabbing the one thing he needs outside of you.
“Wanna taste you, but need to fuck you, bonita. Can I? Can I fuck your pretty pussy?”
You groan, kissing his jaw and his neck. A chorus of yes and pleases bless his skin as his teeth rip the wrapper, fingers expertly sliding it over his length to not waste time.
And then, your fingers leave bruises as you tug on his chin, pulling his eyes to you. A thought rolls, building; Tell me I’ve not ruined this. That I’ve not fucked up another thing.
“Yours, Javi. I’m yours.”
His hand clutches your cheek, fingers pressing against your ear and hairline as you nod. His mouth smothers yours, stealing a moan, air and whatever thoughts were trying to populate. He does so as he lines himself up with you, when you wrap him in warm bliss.
Your fingers on his shoulders, digging in, please move, Javi. And then, his hips move with yours, something swelling inside of him, a thing which makes it hard to stop kissing you, to ever want to stop being between your thighs—
He doesn’t usually fuck like this.
It starts that way, but never ends that way—and yet here he is. Never with them on their backs, eye to eye, lip to lip. But then, you’ve never been them. You’re nothing like them.
And he won’t move, can’t. He slides his tongue past your teeth and grips your hip that bit tighter as he feels your walls grip him desperately.
“Feel so good, Javi—y’fuck me so good.”
He knows.
Knows because you’re fucking heavenly—perfection sent just for him. Something he whispers into your lips, lets you taste it as he feels you getting closer and closer.
Then he just hears you. And the sound is prettier than his mind could ever conjure.
Just feels you. And it's better than he ever thought it could feel.
Then, there's nothing else, until he feels pleasure—until it’s white light and your name spluttering from his lips. Your hands in his hair, hips slowing with his as his lips sloppily find yours.
“We should talk.” You frown, looking over your desk as he leans both palms down. “Bonita… we had sex.”
“A few times, if I recall.”
“You… you seem rather calm about this?”
You smirk, lifting your mug to your lips. “Should I not be?”
He’s silent, uncharacteristically so. Never short of words, not with you.
“Javi, I almost fucking died… then Carrillo… I-I needed… I just needed you.”
“Bonita…”
“I don’t need pity. Do not worry. I’m not expecting anything, I know you, I’m not complicating this, and I’m not asking to change you. I like you as you are, and I know for you, last night for you was just a one-night thing—”
He whispers your name, wrapped in confusion and surprise—
Your hand pats his chest, “—and I’m off to the funeral. Please try not to drown yourself in whiskey while I’m gone.”
“You know I’m not going...”
Smiling, you let your fingers linger on his shirt button, twisting it. “You don’t do funerals—it was one of the first things you told me.”
Letting your hand drop before you walk away, leaving him with his thoughts.
It unravels.
Looking every bit like the day he’d been running around the ranch, knocking into the table beside his momma’s armchair, watching in horror as spools of cotton spread out. They ran uncontrollably away, undoing in a fit of rainbow shades and mess. It had taken him an age to fix, fingers raw from cotton against his fingers.
That’s what it was like now—except he wasn’t sure he could fix it.
If anything, he knows he can't.
He realises it when he tells you. A wave of disappointment ascended and crashed in your eyes until you looked at him with an expression painted in worry. It makes him want to kiss it from you, but your hand brushes his cheek—keeping him where he was, close but not too close.
Don’t…
What? Worry about you?
Yeah, I don’t… I don’t deserve it.
Tough, Javi. I’ve worried about you since the moment you bought me food truck food and told me I had sauce on my chin.
Why's that?
You just seemed like someone who I needed to worry about.
He wanted to kiss you differently then. Softly—gently. Almost greedily. Show you the words he wishes he could say easily. Let you feel how much he adores you, how much he cares, that he even wants to…
Javi doesn’t.
His brain too quick to remind him that you deserve solid truths, not hopeful lies. Tells himself that he’s anything with him will end in ruin, evidenced by the way things keep crumbling, the grip on helping having become closer to hurting.
He tries to build walls to keep you out, ones you chip out with more force than he bargained for. Your nails pulling at bricks, eyes burning through gaps: Do not keep me out, Peña.
So he stops. The energy wasted, even if he wants nothing but to protect you. Doing poorly at it—so much so he doesn’t realise you’re even swept up in it. Not in the moments where he comes find you for a moment of reprieve in the swirling hurricane he created.
You look like shit.
Tell me how you really feel, bonita.
Javi...
I'm fine.
You're not.
No, I'm not.
He could kick himself when he realises it.
Only seeing it when he returns to the base, stopping short of your desk and finds it bare. No mug. No papers. No little notes you write yourself so you never forget a thing.
Bare. Empty.
There's no scent of your perfume and the air is absent of your laugh.
You had always found him, whether in his room, in a cupboard, at his desk. But, he hadn't thought to look for you today. Just put it aside, suspecting he'd find you later.
"Shit."
Sweat pools at the base of his back as he heads to Messina's. Hating himself, wondering if you'd been questioned. He'd never even tried to make sure you were okay with the knowledge of what he had done, what he continued to do in an effort to fix it.
I’m here, Javi. I'm yours, Javi.
He knows you are a part of the fallout when he sees Stechner behind Messina's desk.
It confirming it. Almost wanting to cut him off from saying your name—not wanting to hear it from his lips. Stechner says it anyway, as though knowing. Purposefully adding more poison to it and accompanying it with a cold smirk. One which almost makes him grip the man by the arm and land his fist in his teeth.
You should have stayed in your lane…
Everything tightened inside of him. While everything around him crumbled, slowly crashing down: the walls, the ceiling—the pretence.
It makes his blood run cold, his heart crack right in the centre.
Ambassador wants to see you. Get your passport.
Tightening his jaw, he hammers his feet up the stairs, taking them two by two. Needing his room, needing a moment.
His hand rubbing over his face, mind populated with memories—ones both good and bad. Your voice swirling around them. Your smile, your laugh, all appearing before they burst, showering him in a mess of confetti he’ll never be able to clean. One he doesn’t want to, if they all he has left of you.
He tries to think of his passport. Where it could be. The location of it in the mess of his room—trying not to wonder, worry or think about where you are. What his mess has done to you.
Opening the door, he comes to a halt when he finds both standing in the centre of the room.
Time comes to a stop. His heart pausing mid-slam into his ribs, the pain rippling out, as he takes you in. Watching your fingers and hand slowly rise, holding not one, but two passports, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Hi.”
He lets the door shut behind him, suddenly able to breathe. The weight, the one crushing him for ages, finally stepping up from him, allowing air to fill his lungs, allowing his chest to rise and fall as you softly smile.
“Bonita… what… how?”
“I handed my notice in… Messina, she knew about—she advised me, said it would buy me more time. It did—has. Stechner—”
It takes three strides—three—and even those felt long before his lips crashed into yours, silencing you, not wanting your pretty lips to ever mouth his name. Feeling your hand, the one clutching the passports, against his shoulder and the other on his hip. Pulling him in, wanting him—even still.
He feels like he’s dreaming, until you bite his lip. Smirking against his lips as the two of you part. The feel of it bringing him back to earth, trying not to overthink it and let the moment ruin.
Javi just holds you—like he should have done earlier this morning when he'd seen you, and from the very beginning.
Pulling you close as he humanly can, for as long as he’s able to. Doing so selfishly until both of you are just staring at one another, the gap so thin between you, you’re not all in focus.
“Ask me.”
His knuckles slide along your cheek, knowing what you’re implying. Something coiling at what you’re suggesting—something he’d thought about days ago. Regretted not asking minutes ago…
“Javi.” Your fingers wrapping around his chin. “Ask me or let me go….”
Clearing his throat and licking his lips—sighing.
Wanting to. Nothing compelled him more. But the wounded part, the one which is sore and raw, tells him not to. To put distance, space, time—and fucking everything else—between you both.
To protect you. To love you from afar.
“Be with me.”
Smiling, you whisper, “Please?”
“Please,” he adds, a light smirk threatening to spill.
You let your fingers slide over it, the little crease at the end of the hair on his upper lip. “I’m yours, Javi. All yours.”
“You have to know what that means, bo—”
“I already know,” you cut him off, fingers dancing along his cheek. "I don't care."
an: thank you for reading, feel i should apologise for the length ha!
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Y'know, there are a lot of people in my communities offline and online that... I'd cook for, help clean their house, help them move, share their fundraisers, give them rides to an appointment when I had access to a vehicle, donate to them if I could... who I also wouldn't willingly share casual spaces with, wouldn't tolerate their harmful behavior in a support group (though, if I were leading it, would issue repeat private verbal warnings before taking any action, and even divide into multiple sessions to still offer both the people they're hurting and them the support needed), and so on.
That's what I mean a lot of the times when saying "I won't allow unsafe people in my communities". It's not "I'll violently expel and ostracize (and encourage others to do so) those doing significant harm who are themselves marginalized". It's "I will take steps to reduce the harm being done while not doing further harm in doing so". It's "I recognize that identity does not make you inherently safe, so I focus on actual harm rather than who is doing it, and that also means I'm careful not to just end up displacing the harm by doing it myself".
Of course, I'm not perfect. If someone who is marginalized themself is openly reveling in and bragging about bullying and hurting others, and then turning around and claiming that objectively harmless behaviors from their victims are actually harming them, in essence playing the victim outside of situations where they actually are the victim... yeah, at a certain point I'll become reactive, especially if we are both marginalized on the axis of gender but they have power over me or others on another axis (race, intersex identity, disability, etc).
That's just abuser behavior, and as much as I try as much as possible to never be reactive, I also have grace for myself reacting imperfectly as a trauma and abuse survivor. Hell, this is why I DON'T want to be in a position of being the person in charge of these things that has the power to push people out on my own. I'd much rather have plenty of people to be able to de-escalate when someone HAS become reactive, while addressing the initial harmful behavior separately.
Idk this is just some ramblings on my personal philosophy but like. Community building does mean practicing harm reduction but that also means leaving space for people to mess up and do harm and struggle or even refuse to unlearn shit without being tossed out on their ass in the cold because, well, this is especially true given most of the time they don't have alternative spaces they CAN access when marginalized so it's kinda a case of "each other's all we've got".
And yes there's "don't tolerate intolerance" ofc but it's also "it's more effective to deradicalize someone and especially to do so in ways that are compassionate and understanding than to just isolate them and drive them further into hate" and also "sometimes the harm is directly tied to something like trauma or a disability in a way that can't immediately be changed and then it's on the community rather than the individual to find a solution that reduces the most harm possible without punishing someone for symptoms that they legitimately are struggling to or can't control".
Basically, there's ✨nuance!✨
And like this is all gonna be different too depending on the type of harm and what social dynamics are at play. You handle bigotry/oppression differently than you handle lateral aggression differently than you handle mixed cases (such as transintermisia from a perisex trans person) differently than you handle any other number of cases of harm.
Idk I just care more about being effective than being right. And I know I revert into injured animal snarling a lot on here but tbf I'm also NOT actively engaging in community building or w/e on my 250 follower blog with max 20 followers active at any given time. I do also think it's important to have injured animals spaces too and maybe this isn't the best one but rn it works okay as mine.
So... yeah. Complicated thoughts on a complicated subject.
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Hello how do you do! Since we see a lot of works with sunshine and sweet readers, I'd like maybe if possible to request simon with a spiteful reader..... Like the reader has a resting angry face, isn't the most cheerful either..... Just pissed at life basically lmao (am I projecting?? Perhaps) anyways I hope you have great day!!!!
hi hun! totally down for a grumpy reader, personally i have a terrible case of resting mean face so, can relate. hope this little one shot fits what you were thinking, might make a part two.
warnings: angst, death, violence, a lil smooch, gn pronouns, Ghost is bad with his words
part two
“count two top deck” Ghost calls through the comms, alerting you and Soap.
“copy LT, breaching now” Soap pushes his way through the large doors, you covering behind him. The two of you are suddenly overtaken by mass amounts of gunfire.
“steamin' jesus LT I think your math was off” Soap yells as the two of you duck for cover behind a wall.
You feel the anger boil in your lower stomach, twice now your lieutenant has miscounted enemies leading to you standing directly in the line of fire, you couldn’t figure out what was distracting him but it made you angrier, you relied on him to get you eyes inside the room and he failed.
Smoke encases the room in a thick haze as you toss a grenade toward the men shooting at you, sneaking around the room to take out 4 men with your weapon, utilizing the knife attached to your belt for the last, his blood cascading from his neck down your hands and arms.
The smoke clears and Soap stands with wide eyes staring at you as you stand trying to catch your breath.
“Rooms clear, move out” you huff over the comms.
Stepping outside the abandoned building you lock eyes with Ghost, quickly closing the gap between you two.
“What the FUCK was that” You yell, hands coming to push at his chest as he takes a small step back from your force. You continue invading his space, forcing his large form backwards.
“That’s twice, TWICE now you’ve fucked up and almost gotten me killed” you release a deep breath, “get your head on right before you get someone killed or I swear to god I will end you myself” emphasizing your point with a final shove, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you flex your fingers trying to calm yourself.
Soap and Ghost share a glance of awe, you were often seen intimidating lower ranks but they’d never seen you have an outburst like that. The ride back to base was practically silent, no one daring to breathe too hard beside you, scared to become the next victim of your wrath.
Entering the base you make your way to the gym, shucking your vest and gear in favour of a t-shirt and shorts, choosing to channel your anger onto the nearest punching bag. You punch until your knuckles became red and swollen, a cut on the back of your hand from a previous mission opening during your assault. fuck
You step away to find a bandage, wrapping it around your hand using your teeth to tighten it. You make your way back over to the bag as you hear the heavy doors to the gym open, sparing a sharp glance at the large figure that emerged. You scoff in his direction, offended that he’d even think to be around you at that moment.
He settles himself at a safe distance as you continue your workout, his eyes roaming over your form.
“Keep staring and i’ll break your nose” You keep your focus on your hits.
“your form is off”
“it’s not”
“it is. put your weight on your front leg, you’re small, shift your weight to your advantage. you’ll never knock someone out punching with just your arms”
You stop moving, fists balled at your sides.
“wanna test that theory?”
He smirks under his mask and it just makes you angrier, he thinks you can’t take him.
You advance toward him, balling your fist before releasing it towards his head, he dodges and grabs your wrist twisting your body to pin your back to his chest.
“I told you, use your weight”
You breathe deep, bending your knee to flick back and lock behind his ankle, using your back to throw him off, tripping him as he tumbled to the mat. You scramble up his body resting your bent knee on his throat.
“that better?”
Your victory is cut short as Ghost brings his legs up to grip around your arm, throwing your body down and twisting to pin you to the mat.
“Tap out” he spits but you’re blinded by your anger, you refuse to let him win. Your body writhes under his strong grip.
“Tap out or I’ll break your arm” he threatens
You lock eyes, narrowing yours as your free palm comes into contact with the soft mat below you. He gets up releasing you as you stand, shaking your arm to try and ease the pain from his grip.
“next time -“
his words are cut short as you launch yourself at him, jumping onto him as you lock your arms around his neck. He uses his weight to try and flip you off but you keep your grip firm pulling him down with you, replacing your arms with your legs as you keep him in a triangle choke. You keep your body pressed to the mat as he plants his feet in an attempt to throw you off him.
“tap out,” you say, repeating his own words.
and he does, his large hand colliding with the floor as you release him. You stand, sweat glistening your body, hair a mess.
“work on your technique, you’re predictable”
“still took you down”
“only cause I let you”
“bullshit” you spit
he raises his eyebrow under his mask, but you can read his face.
“you’re afraid to admit that someone beat the big bad Ghost, well fuck you,” you say through heavy breaths, “we rank the same, you can’t intimidate me like I’m some new recruit”
“you’re really so worked up over the mission"
“yes! Your mistake almost cost Soap and I, what is wrong with you that you forget to count 3 people in a room”
“I was distracted”
“right, good excuse”
“I was distracted by you” he huffs
your breath catches in your throat, his eyes scanning over your form.
“I can handle my own, worry about the enemy” you say as you grab your bag and leave the room, rushing your way back to your room.
You spend a few hours in your room, showering and doing paperwork. As 7pm rolled around you figured you should eat something, so you make your way to the mess. Inching closer to the door you hear some recruits talking,
“I swear man they took down the Ghost, never seen him get beaten before”
You smirk to yourself, hiding behind the frame of the door.
“Yea but they’re a bitch, honest they doesn’t talk to anyone, always looks pissed off at something”
Your smirk fades quickly, your face returning to its usual stoic state as you breeze into the room, staring daggers at the men who had suddenly lost complete interest in their conversation, instead picking at the food on their plate.
Grabbing your food you sit at a far table away from the rest of the groups, managing to stomach most of the food you had been given. Your gaze shifts as Ghost walks into the room, sparing you a glance and stopping, almost like he wanted to say something. You avert your eyes and quickly stand from your spot, crossing the room the leave as he watches you go.
You settle yourself back into your room, trying to find something to occupy your mind when you hear a knock at your door, moving back to open it before your eyes land on that stupid mask.
“What do you need lieutenant”
“Can I come in”
“No”
He breezes past you into the room as you roll your eyes, closing the door and crossing your arms over your chest.
“I’m sorry”
“Fine”
“Can you just listen for once” he raises his voice.
You uncross your arms, eyebrows raising urging him to continue.
“I’m sorry”
“You said”
He warns you silently with a stare.
“I fucked up, I should’ve checked twice”
“I just don’t understand how you missed so many”
“I told you I was distracted”
You scoff
“I get distracted every time I’m in the field with you, I get worried about you”
You laugh at his remark, “We aren’t friends Ghost, you - you vex me”
“Simon”
you let out a small huh
“If you’re gonna yell at me at least use my name”
You throw up your arms in defeat, “What do you want me to say, Simon, I forgive you? Fine you’re forgiven”
“No, I just want you to understand”
“Understand what!”
His words don’t come, instead, he closes the space between you, lifting his mask over his mouth, grabbing your face between his hands and bringing his lips to yours. You widen your eyes confused at the abrupt action before falling into it, hands reaching up to tug at the nape of his neck. The kiss is almost violent, all tongue and teeth as the two of you pull back, catching a breath. You release him stepping back trying to gather your thoughts.
“That, understand that,” he says before moving behind you to leave. The swift movement stunning you, everything happened so quickly, did you like that? You’d never thought about Ghost Simon that way, every previous thought about him clouded in feelings of rage, but this felt different, you press your fingers to your lips trying to relieve the ache that came with the loss of contact.
Simon spent the night in his room tossing and turning in bed, why did he do that? God it probably only made you hate him more. He didn’t know, he couldn’t read you like he could other people, your gaze always cold and unforgiving, he understood the anger, he had plenty of experience with that emotion but this, this feeling he had towards you was different, he didn’t know what it was but he knew that he always wanted to be near you, even if it pissed you off.
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Unhinged totally unasked for thots about Riding Pedro Boys
Authors Note: So this came from me chugging entirely too many energy drinks and then projectile vomiting in Taylors inbox. I'd like to warn you that: English isn't my first language, I have never written smut before, I'm not a real writer, and also I'm trash goblin levels of unhinged about this. That being said; Enjoy and uhh. Forgive me Fandom
JAVIER PEÑA
Javier Pena doesn't let you do it.
Don't @ me LISTEN! (YES I STARTED OFF WITH A CONTROVERSIAL THOT FUCKING BITE ME.)
That man does not have the time, or the patience, or the good sense (the sense is at the other end) to let you ride. He needs the control okay? And sometimes it's not even about the control ! It's the frustration. It piles and piles and piles until he snaps. He needs to do. He will bend you over and work his frustration away until he has had enough and you let him because he needs it. (And lets be real he makes it worth your while every single time)
BUT. When he finally fucking retires, and gets a ranch, and breaths air not tinged with the smells of death, cigarettes and guns for the first time in however many years, and maybe drinks some fucking water, he takes you out on a date. He fumbles through the entire thing, panics because he thinks he blew it, still manages to get you home, gets ridden for the first time in like 6 years, and can't walk straight for an entire day and stammers every time someone asks him why.
JAVIER GUTIERREZ
Javi G loves it. He loves watching you. Gets all puppy dog wide eyed (remember the pool scene face??? Thats it.) and you have to really focus because his look of straight up wonder and awe and bright eyed eagerness makes you want to cry. He's panting like he's running a marathon, running his big hands EVERYWHERE he can reach. He makes you feel worshipped and adored and so very very loved. Thanks you after. For being so amazing, and so wonderful to him, and thanks the universe that he found you. Cause he's sap. You definitely cry after.
JOEL MILLER
(Watch me be controversial again) Joel is fucking tired okay? He has old man bones and creaky joints and his back is achy. Patrol was agony, Jesse wouldn't shut up the entire time, and Tommy was giving him shit, and he has no energy to drill anyone into the mattress (as much as we all want him to). He's just plain tired. He likes you on top. Likes it slow (like a roast chicken on a sunday slow). Enjoys the gradual build up, likes to lean back, watch with half open eyes as you take your time. Wants to indulge in something beautiful at the end of the world, and that something is you. He makes sexy grunting noises, mutters a whole lot of praise ~and filth~ and just y'know. Savours it. 🫠🫠🫠 savours you. 🫠
DIETER BRAVO
Dieter is a maniac. (Leave him alone he has adhd!!) He can't still still for the life of him so you best believe he changes positions 6 times and the only way you're getting to ride is if you're also putting some weight elsewhere. To hold him down! You squeeze his neck once and he MELTS. INSTANTLY. Loses all sense. Starts babbling and whimpering and making extremely pathetic noises. Will definitely buck up and whine. PRAISES YOU. BEGGING. LOUD NOISES.
MAX PHILLIPS
Max is a heathen. He just likes watching you bounce. That's it. That's the post :p
MARCUS PIKE
Marcus P is a romantic. He will be doing the whole "lean forward and try to get kisses in between" while also "moaning and maintaining eye contact" and he's holding you so tight , squeezing your sides and also muttering declarations of love. About how he wants a life with you, and a family, and a home, and a future. How he's going to "make you so happy baby, I promise I will, I swear to you". Doesn't let you off for from on top of him for atleast a half hour after; kissing all over your face and rubbing your back and petting your hair "I meant all of it sweetheart. I want all of you." shsbzgwgsvsg ilovehimsomuch and I've only ever seen gifsets of this man what is wrong with me
MARCUS MORENO
Marcus M is A MENACE. He wears his stupid glasses, and has his stupid shirt off, while he does stupid taxes/meeting plans in bed. You keep throwing side glances and getting increasingly wound up and he just has this gentle smirk but he's mostly ignoring you. You sidle up to him and maybe start kissing his jaw, laying gentle pecks down his neck, and he's still fukcungh working "Baby. I need to finish this. I'm sorry, you need to wait." But that smirk is still there and it's driving you crazy and maybe you keep kissing until you reach his *coughs* and then you're working on getting him interested. You can still hear the fucking pen scratching though and so you go deeper, and he raises an eyebrow. "be good now honey" You're settling in his lap and he has you sitting there until he has finished his paperwork with you whimpering and trying not to squirm because you want to be good you really do and you know he'll make it so much better but he feels so good and when he's finally finally done you get to move but you're so wound up you can't pull yourself together enough to find a rhythm and you're nearly in tears and he has to grip your sides and murmur instructions in your ear and help you until you're satisfied and just when you think he's done, and about to flip you over, he adjusts his grip and starts moving from underneath you until you're crying and he's finished ~which doesnt happen until you've come 2 more times~
DAVE YORK
Dave. Oh my gosh Dave. Dave is a strict dom if ever there was one. With him it's a punishment. He'll tell you to hold off until he's done which is freaking impossible with how deep he gets, and how he likes to warm up his hands on your butt while you're trying desperately to hold onto that last thread of control. He is muttering absolute filth, holding your arms behind your back with one hand while the other is either laying smack after smack or rubbing you furiously all the while he's got the smuggest look. "Don't you dare baby. Be a good girl now. Listen and obey for once". But you can't because he's not fair and he knows it. And when you do finally fall apart he's clenching his teeth trying to hold back himself and his hands are holding you up as you gasp his name like it's the only word you know. He's running his hands down your back and kissing you softly and helping you catch your breath and when you finally get your heart to stop pounding and look up at him, he's watching you with this dangerously soft smile and he goes "oh you're in for it now aren't you honey?" and kisses your forehead while you try not to whimper.
FRANKIE MORALES
Frankie is a soft boy. He loves it. Craves it. He loves giving up control. Wants you to tie him up and have your way until he has no thoughts left in that pretty little head. He is swearing like an absolute sailor the entire time, calling you ma'am, begging to be released so he can kiss you and touch you, absolutely nearly breaks the head board once he was so desperate. Wants to be edged but also is the biggest WIMP about it. Will pout and swear and beg and plead but then want you to deny him again. Will definitely be mumbling absolute nonsense once you're done. Needs all the aftercare. Blushes pink when he gets it. Wraps himself around you like a HUGE koala bear after. ~and returns the edging favour 3 times over when he gets in his Captain Francisco Morales Mood~
JACK DANIELS
BONUS TWO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT and tumblr won't let me put gifs for:
Jack makes every single cowboy joke known to man. You have to put your hand on his mouth to get him to shut the hell up. His eyes get all glassy when you do. He puts his hat on top of your head and busies himself in your neck (dual benefits: A. He shuts up and B. HICKIES) will definitely drag you on top of him in his Bronco (he likes to show off) will pull up on the side of the road almost 70% of the times you drive together. Bites you over your clothes. Loves the way you grab desperately at this leather jacket. Definitely makes you bend over and 'clean up the mess sugar' before driving like the hounds of hell are after him all the way back home and doing it all over again because "we gotta make you a mama now love"
PERO TOVAR
Pero got married after he came back and retired as a sell sword. His wife is a soft but sassy thing who's a little (read: not at all, she returns his snark twice over) intimidated by him but also thinks he's a good man because he saved her village from raiders. She has seen him grumble and snark at but then also share his food with the orphans who works at the village inn. She's inexperienced (let me live my victorian life) and he doesn't really think he deserves her but also he's not so much an idiot to say no to someone like her. She's the village "healer" and he met her when he got stabbed by one of the raiders (arm wound: not serious.) He has to teach her. She gets shy and flustered, which is a total 180 from her sassy self, and Pero loves it. She makes the most amazing sounds that have him thinking that maybe he did something right in his life to end up in her arms. She wants to please her new husband and asks her married friends for advice and they tell her about this new position. So she asks him, stuttering and tripping over words, if she could try something she heard about? From a friend? She straddles him and Pero loses his mind. He's closing his eyes and clenching his jaw so hard and she's whimpering in the most DELICIOUS way and he's trying so hard to hold back and let her take her pace and she's so worried "am I not doing it right?" Pero has to take 3 deep breaths before he's centred enough to answer and then he helps her. Puts his hands on her hips to guide her. Puts one of her hands on his shoulder "steady now pequenita" and puts the other low on her belly and presses in so she can feel him. Loves the way she cries out. Bends forward to leave little marks everywhere he can reach. She's scrambling at his chest, leaving nail marks he loves, and finally grabbing his hair and pulling until he groans. And when they're both done and sated and sweaty he kisses her, looks her in the eye and winks. "I'm going to have to go thank your friend now, mi esposa."
DIN DJARIN
Din and you dont have time. The razor crest is finally in hyperspace, you got shot at for the 50th time in 2 weeks, (because Murphys Law seems to be the only law Mando never breaks), you're exhausted, sweaty, and the giggly green monster of chaos only made you chase him down from the top of a weapons cabinet twice before he finally decided to take a nap. You're frustrated, and in desperate need of a shower, and a nap, but also you can't get the image of Mando fighting out of your head. Before you know it, the hormones have taken over and you're attacking him in the pilot seat. The bucket is off (I refuse to look at my own reflection in the tin cans helmet while we do the do), he's got you arching into him, your shirt is half torn from the top because Din refuses to wait for "so many fucking buttons Meshla" the gloved hand is squeezing the back of your neck, his mouth is on your chest, his other hand (you only managed to get one glove off) is splayed out on your back. You're riding him like you're trying to break him and his thigh holster? thing (do i look like i can figure out what they're called?) is digging marks into your skin but you're too turned on to care. It's frantic, it's messy, you're PRAYING the tiny green menace stays asleep as you do your best to muffle your sounds. The refresher isn't big enough for a round two, (you still do your best), and your legs feel like jelly, when you finally pass out; curled up on top of the human space heater while he hums Mando'a in your ear.
*****
TAGGING: @chronically-ghosted (you are a menace but ily)
@fuckyeahdindjarin (here I go trying that writing thing again, stop me pls)
#raven writes#i apologize for all of this#idk what came over me#i was possessed#and taylor refused to sedate me#javier pena x reader#dieter bravo x reader#javier gutierrez x reader#joel miller x reader#marcus moreno x reader#marcus pike x reader#dave york x reader#pero tovar x reader#din djarin x reader#max phillips x reader#frankie morales x reader#jack daniels x reader
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Total Customer Service
My hotel famously caters to the whims of each and every guest, so I thought I'd highlight the insights of some of my staff. My "unique" recruitment process has helped me acquire an army of hard-working uniforms who are guaranteed to serve! Hopefully, this glimpse will make you want to book a visit...
(Josh) The Bellhop
I love this job, but sometimes it kills my back! Who would've thought that being a porter would wear down my body more than hard labor ever did? Don't get me wrong: I'll gladly work here forever, but most of my days aren't a walk in the park. Honestly, none of them are.
When I was a construction worker, I got paid to be outside and occasionally hammer in a nail or two. My crew was pretty notorious for just standing around all day. We were doing that when my current boss approached us. I don't remember exactly what he said, but before I knew it, we were dropping our tool belts and hardhats and following him back to the hotel!
He hired me as a bellboy, so now I offer any guest the service of lugging their suitcases up to their rooms. Since I'm just staff, I obviously can't use the elevators, (those are reserved for the guests) so I carry their things up the service stairs in the back of the building. The temperature in the stairwell is always hot as hell, so I rarely end a shift without sweating through the pits of my uniform jacket. It sucks, but the AC is saved for spaces that make guests more comfortable.
Most of the customers are pleased to see me working so hard anyway. I'm usually panting by the time I deliver their luggage to their rooms. I'll always offer to unpack their things: it's a part of the hotel's five-star service.
Then I wait and see if they need anything else from me. A lot of times, I'm the first employee the guests are able to interact with, so they're usually pretty excited to take advantage of the "all-inclusive" service our hotel is famous for.
Some of them are shy about it at first and some of them are demanding from the get-go, but I'm always happy to do whatever they ask. Even if I don't particularly like what I have to do: it's just a part of the job...I love this job...I love my boss...I love that this work is my life...
(Bill) The Housekeeper
Part of me cringes every time I get a look of myself in a mirror. Sure, I'm proud to be a housekeeper, but it's a real change of pace from back when I was a financial advisor. Part of me is nervous to think I could run into someone from my old life: a former colleague or an old customer perhaps. I'd still clean their room the same of course, but I can't help but wonder what they'd think of me while I did it.
I used to manage the hotel owner's finances. That's how we met. He persuaded me to grow his hotel as much as I could. It became an obsession of mine, and I'll have to admit that I tossed all my other customers to the side to focus on him. It was a bit out of character for me. I'm not really sure why I did that. Anyway, I was spending so much time at his hotel instead of my office that he offered me a job.
I can't recall his pitch, but it must have been a convincing one, because I dialed up my old former boss and quit. I just didn't want it anymore! It didn't even bother me that the only vacant position was in housekeeping!
I took it immediately.
I love cleaning up the messes our guests leave behind. Thinking about that is what gets me out of bed everyday, which is no easy feat since my shift starts at four in the morning. No matter how messy, gross, or bizarrely sticky a room is, I just love to get on my hands and knees and scrub every inch for them.
The best part is when a guest comes back to their room to find me making their bed or cleaning their shower. I can tell they're always pleasantly surprised to find me there.
I just keep my head lowered submissively like I'm supposed to and wait for them to take charge. They always do. Here at the hotel, us employees are completely at the customer's whim. I'll do anything they tell me to...I want to make them happy...I want to serve them...I want to obey.
(Donavon) The Waiter
Who knew waiting could create such awful migraines. I work in the hotel bar, and every day is a new storm of hungry and entitled mouths. Each table has someone who isn't happy with their meal, and they love to express their discontent in the most ridiculous ways. Sometimes it's a glass of water in my face. Sometimes it's a slap on the ass, but it's always followed by a roar of laughter!
Usually, every guest in the restaurant joins in like it's all one sick joke.
I'm not used to being treated this way. I used co-own a nearby gym, and I always made it my mission to foster a welcoming culture of respect and familiarity. I know "the customer is always right," but sometimes it is a hard fact to swallow.
The hotel's owner helped me learn that. He approached me one night at the gym and pulled out this weird swinging medallion...
I don't remember much of what he said, but I knew I had to abandon my gym. I left my wife too. We were happy, but I couldn't work here and have other commitments.
That's how I got started waiting tables. I'd never done it before, but it's not hard when I'm constantly being told what to do. Between the customers and the boss, I spend the entire day running around fulfilling orders; table six wants more wine, table nine wants their food cut for them, table twelve wants a foot rub... you get the picture.
It's all pretty typical stuff for a restaurant, I think. The customers get full control over me and the rest of the wait staff. However, it does make serving food a little difficult at times. Last night, we had to work overtime because this one guy kept making full use of us waiters. A good chunk of my evening was spent under his table, so I had to sprint afterwards to catch up on everyone's food.
It might stress me out, but I try not to let it bother me. I'll put up with their abuse and treat them with the utmost respect like a good waiter should. I don't mind being groped and fondled by virtually every customer as I pass. Part of our service is complete access to the staff. They can do whatever they want to me...they can have me do whatever they want...they deserve that treatment...I'm meant to give them that treatment...
(Ricardo) The Kitchen Staff
This job sucks. It's the truth, but I don't think I'll ever leave. The kitchens are so steamy and uncomfortable that I constantly think about walking out and getting a breath of fresh air. Still, my hands keep scrubbing countertops and chopping vegetables.
Sometimes I think of my life before I worked at this hotel, back when I was just an aimless twenty year old hanging out at the gas station. I had so much free time then. Now, I spend every waking moment in this sauna of a kitchen getting splashed with grease and oil.
Everything changed when that stranger came up to me and my buds one day. He talked really slow and dangled this weird necklace in front of our eyes. If I didn't know any better, I might think he was trying to hypnotize us!
Obviously, that's not what happened.
He was just offering us work. He made me realize how much I needed to work. I have to do this job! I need it! All my buddies agreed too. Some of them had jobs, but they didn't mind. It's been awhile since I saw them since I'm stuck down here in the kitchen. I think one of them might be a pool boy or something? I don't remember. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's more enjoyable than washing dishes down here.
The only break we get is when a customer comes in the kitchen.
One of them burst through the doors last night. We could all tell he'd had too much to drink, but that didn't change how we treated him. Like always, me and the rest of the staff stopped what we were doing and straightened our backs out of respect. He stumbled around, licking his lips as he looked us up and down. He wasn't afraid of groping us, which any guest is more than entitled to do.
Eventually, he got to me, burping in my face before covering my mouth with his slobbery lips. I'm not gay and he had a rank odor of beer on his breath, but I wasn't going to tell a customer no!
Before long, he was ordering me on the floor and crawling on top of me. The other chefs and kitchen staff got back to work, but I was left with the responsibility of keeping the guest entertained. I'd describe it as gross more than anything. I think he might've even pissed himself, but an order is an order.
His demands were the ridiculous kind only a drunk ass would make. Still, I did everything: no matter how uncomfortable, sick, or degrading they were. That's just the expectation for employees at this hotel...we are here to serve them... I'm here to serve them...I am at their whim.
...so now you understand.
My hotel is famous for its "uniquely unlimited" customer service. Stay here and you'll always be right. You'll always have someone to pick on, laugh at, play with, or use.
Get familiar with anyone that catches your eye. I can assure you that all of my employees are handsome and thoroughly conditioned. Order the waiter to pour your food over his head; tell the housekeeper to do a little dance; command the bellhop turn around and bend over. They'll do it all, and they'll thank you for it.
So what are you waiting for. Book your next vacation with us! I promise you'll enjoy meeting the rest of my staff...
#gay hypnosis#humiliation kink#gay mind control#gay ai art#hypnotized#hypno story#servant#mind control#blue collar
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Nonno’s Globetrotting Adventure
Part One
I sat in my modest apartment, the weight of my years heavy upon my frail shoulders. My once-strong body now betrayed me, confined to a wheelchair as age and illness took their toll. But despite my body, I still felt young at heart. And, more importantly, I had a burning desire to experience the world beyond the confines of my small Italian town before my time was up.
One day, my grandson Nico came to visit. Although it feels weird to say about my grandson, Nico is a very attractive young man.
He’s currently working as a waiter while pursing his dream of getting signed by a modeling agency in Milan. While Nico certainly has the looks to get signed, he seems to lack the discipline and patience needed to succeed. Every time he comes close, he finds a way to sabotage his chances – oversleeping for a final callback, not bothering to dress nice enough, always something.
Seeing that Nico was struggling, I had an idea for how to help us both get what we wanted.
“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Nico said. “You want to use my body to travel the world, while I stay here in yours?”
“Exactly,” I replied. “I know it sounds strange, but think about it. You’re young and full of energy, it’s really the only way I could see some sights before I pass.”
“But how would it even work?” he said.
“I have these enchanted necklaces. If we both wear them at the same time, we’ll swap bodies. And then, when the summer is over, we can switch back by both removing the necklaces,” I explained.
“Wow, that’s… That’s a lot to take in, Nonno,” he said.
“I know it’s unconventional, but I would be willing to pay you double what you would make from waiting tables over the summer. That way, you would have a cushion to focus full time on landing a modeling gig when you get back. And I’d be sure to take a bunch of pictures for you while I’m away to help build up your portfolio.”
“I don’t know, that’s a great offer, but I’m still not sure.”
“Well, let’s try now and see how you feel,” I said, quickly clasping the necklace around his neck before he could say anything.
Then I threw on my own. I felt my soul rush out of me and slam into my grandson. Standing up tall and taking a deep breath, I felt my strong muscles. Then I looked down at my hands and saw thick veins. Damn, I hadn’t felt this good in years.
Sensing some reticence from Nico, I quickly said “Oh! Thank you so much Nico, it really means the world to me.” Hoping to guilt trip him before he could say anything.
Clearly still worried, he tried to play it off and said, “Alright Nonno, you’re welcome.”
Taking in this body, I snapped this photo on the way to my new home:
Part Two
The first stop on my world tour was New York City. Since I was a little boy, I had always dreamed of visiting America, but I had never gotten the chance.
As I stepped out of the metro and up to ground level, I couldn’t help but stare at the skyscrapers touring over me. Walking down the street, I could tell that guys and girls were checking me out, which was a new feeling. Sure, I was attractive when I was younger, thats part of where Nico gets it from. But even then, I’d never really gotten these types of looks back in the day, especially not from such hot guys … I think I like it.
At the youth hostel, I met a bunch of really cool guys – we hung out in a crew and went to do all the iconic landmarks like Times Square, Central Park, and the Statue of Liberty.
Walking through Midtown one of the guys, Adi, shouted to me, “Hey Sal, check this out!” as we turned a corner, revealing a perfect view of the Empire State Building. I couldn’t help but marvel at the sight, feeling a sense of awe wash over me.
Adi slapped me on the back, grinning widely. "Pretty awesome, huh?"
I nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it's incredible. I never thought I'd get to see it in person."
We bar-hopped around the city together, sharing stories and laughter late into the night. At one point, we stumbled upon a street performer playing the guitar, his soulful melodies filling the air with a sense of nostalgia. Adi nudged me with his elbow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Sal, you ever played an instrument?"
I shook my head. "No, never had the chance."
Adi grinned. "Well, there's no time like the present. Grab that guitar and let's see what you've got!"
With a mixture of nervousness and excitement, I hesitantly approached the street performer, who handed me his guitar with a friendly smile. As I strummed the strings and attempted to mimic the chords he had been playing, I felt a sense of exhilaration wash over me. Despite my lack of experience, the music flowed through me, filling me with a sense of joy and freedom I had never known before.
The guys cheered me on, clapping and cheering as I played. In that moment, I felt alive in a way I hadn't in years. It was a feeling I never wanted to end.
I made sure to snap some more selfies of myself, and get my new bros to take some shots for my modeling portfolio too:
After bidding farewell to the bustling streets of New York, I traveled westward. From the majestic mountains of the Rockies to the tranquil plains of the Midwest, each destination had its own unique charm.
But it was in California, with its sun-kissed beaches and sprawling landscapes, that I truly felt at home. As I walked for what seemed like endless miles along the rugged coastline, the salty breeze tousling my hair and the warmth of the sun on my skin, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that surrounded me.
With each step, I felt the strength and vitality of Nico's body coursing through me. I would’ve never been able to do this trip in my own body. Gone were the aches and pains of old age, replaced by a sense of boundless energy. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was somehow meant to be, me in Nico's youthful body.
Part Three
After about a month of traveling, I found myself in India. While I hadn’t really though about traveling there before, so many people had recommended it to me as my next stop. So I decided, why not check it out.
Arriving in Mumbai, I checked into my hostel and made a conscious decision to introduce myself as Nico, not Salvatore, this time. While my fellow travelers were none the wiser, I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement every time someone addressed me by my new name. It made feel even more at home in this body than I had in California.
Among the eclectic group at the hostel, one stood out to me – Emilio. Another Italian adventurer like myself, Emilio had a warm smile and an easy charm that immediately put me at ease. With his curly hair and striking green eyes, Emilio was undeniably handsome, and I found myself drawn to him in a way I hadn't expected. We spent our days exploring the bustling streets of Mumbai, immersing ourselves in the sights, sounds, and flavors of the city, and going to some nearby hotsprings.
One fateful night, after returning from a night out on the town, Emilio found himself locked out of his bunk. Immediately, I offered him a spot in my private room, and to my delight, he accepted without hesitation.
Since it was so hot in Mumbai, we decided to strip down to just our underwear. As we lay sharing my small bed, I feel his hand trace up my inner thigh. My breathing getting heavier, Emilio decides to increase the pressure of his strokes. In reponse, I reach over to his thigh and work my way up to his cock, which I can feel is massive. That was all the sign he needed.
Emilio gets up and splits my legs, now rubbing both of them and playing with my waistband. As he does that, he also leans over and begins sucking my nipples. While this wouldn’t have done anything for my old body, Nico’s nipples are sensitive as hell.
“Fuckkkk” I said in a low grunting whisper.
As he switched over from one nipple to the other, Emilio then reached into my trunks and began jerking my uncut dick. Eventually, he flips me over and pulls down my underwear before taking off his own. I can feel his cock now teasing between my ass cheeks. The anticipation is agonizing as I wait for him to put it in.
He reaches underneath me and pulls up my chest so that I am on my hands and knees. Nibbling on my ear he whispers “you’re the fucking sexiest guy i’ve ever seen,” as he shoves his 25cm cock inside me.
Thrusting in and out of me, he uses the hand that he has across my waist to play with my nipples again, which drives me crazy. Before long, I feel pressure growing, and without him even touching my cock, I feel myself shoot my load across the bed.
Smirking at me as I turn my head around, Emilio takes his fingers, runs it through my seed, before then showing those same fingers into his mouth. He then lifts up his arm, flexes his biceps for me, which makes me tigthen my hole. The tighthness is too much for him and he shoots his entire load inside me. We collapse onto the bed, his cock still inside, where it stays for the rest of the night.
From that night on, Emilio and I became inseparable. We decided to travel together for the rest of our journey, visiting South Africa, Kenya, and Egypt before finally finding ourselves in Greece at the end of the summer.
The beaches of Greece were a paradise. We spent our days basking in the warm Mediterranean sun, swimming in the azure sea, and indulging in leisurely walks along the shore. In the evenings, we treated ourselves to sumptuous dinners at quaint seaside tavernas, savoring the flavors of Greek cuisine and the company of each other.
One night towards the end of our time in Greece, over a sunset dinner, Emilio turned to me with a serious expression.
“These past few weeks have been beyond anything I could have imagined,” Emilio began, his voice soft but filled with emotion. “I've had the time of my life, Nico, and I don't want it to end when we return to Italy.”
His words echoed the sentiments that had been swirling in my own mind, and I felt a rush of anticipation at what he might say next. Meeting his gaze, I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for this man who had become so dear to me.
"Me neither," I replied, my heart pounding in my chest as I gazed longingly into his eyes.
With a determined look, Emilio took a deep breath before continuing, "Will you be my boyfriend?"
The question hung in the air between us, charged with the weight of all that we had shared and all that was yet to come. And in that moment, I knew with absolute certainty what my answer would be.
“Yes, of course,” I replied, a smile spreading across my face as I reached out to take his hand in mine. “I've been waiting for you to ask since the night we met in India.”
He looked at me, his eyes glistening, before pulling me in for a deep, passionate kiss.
Part Four
Eventually, Emilio and I made our way back to Italy. We'd been back about a week, and I was eager to share my adventures and introduce Emilio to the rest of my family, which I planned to do at dinner tonight. However, there was a significant problem: none of them knew about the body swap. I hadn’t spoken to the real Nico since I'd left three months ago, but I'd see him tonight. I knew what I was going to do, but I didn’t know how it would go over.
Walking hand in hand, we approached the familiar doorstep of my family's house. I could feel Emilio’s nerves radiating, but I squeezed his hand reassuringly, confident that my family would adore him as much as I did. Stepping into the warm embrace of my family, I proudly introduced Emilio to each and every one of them.
My mother’s (formerly my daughter) eyes lit up with delight as she embraced Emilio warmly. "Oh, it's so wonderful to finally meet you, Emilio! Nico has spoken so highly of you."
Emilio returned her embrace, a smile playing on his lips. "Grazie, signora. It's truly an honor to meet you all."
My father clapped Emilio on the back, a jovial twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to the family, Emilio! Nico here has been a bit of a handful lately, but it seems like you've got him under control."
We all shared a laugh at my father's jest, and Emilio's cheeks flushed with warmth. "I'm doing my best, signore," he replied, earning a nod of approval from my father.
As we sat around the dinner table, sharing stories of our travels and adventures, Emilio chimed in with anecdotes of his own, effortlessly weaving himself into the fabric of our family dynamic. With each passing moment, I could see my family growing fonder of him.
As we sat around the dinner table, I asked, "Hey, where’s Nonno?"
My mother's expression softened with concern as she replied, "He's in bed, nico. He's been resting a lot lately."
A pang of guilt tugged at my heart as I excused myself from the table, my footsteps heavy with apprehension as I made my way upstairs. "Nonno," I said softly, approaching his bedside with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "I need to talk to you."
"I am so relieved you’re back," he replied weakly, his voice raspy with exhaustion, "but, why did you call me that?"
Taking a deep breath, I summoned the courage to tell him. "I... I met a guy," I began, my words faltering slightly as I struggled to find the right way to express myself. "I've never felt such a deep connection before, and I need to see where it leads."
His brow furrowed in confusion. "But... what about our agreement?" he asked, his voice tinged with disappointment.
"I know, Nonno, and I'm sorry," I replied, my heart heavy with guilt. "But I can't ignore how I feel. I hope you understand."
Anger flared in his eyes. "You can’t do this to me," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "It's not fair."
With a sudden surge of frustration, Nico ripped off his necklace, the enchanted chain clattering to the floor with a finality that echoed through the room. "I want to swap back right now," he demanded, his gaze locking onto the necklace that now hung around my neck.
I leaned in towards my old body, my guilt giving way to slight confidence as I made my declaration. "I understand it's hard to accept, Nonno, but this is my life now," I asserted, my tone laced with a sense of superiority.
With a swift motion, he reached for the necklace around my neck, his fingers trembling with desperation. But as he tore it away, his expression twisted with shock as he realized that nothing happened.
I looked at him with a face of pity. “It’s not going to work,” I said.
"I melted down the necklace and had it made it into a bunch of different pieces of jewelry while I was in India," I confessed.
His eyes widened in disbelief, his feeble grasp on the situation slipping away with each passing moment. "You... you did what?" he stammered, his voice tinged with incredulity.
"I wanted an insurance policy so that I could ensure nothing would stop me from pursuing Emilio," I continued, my resolve unwavering.
"I knew you probably wouldn’t think to take off the necklace until I cam back. So I took the opportunity to melt mine down into jewelry that I can wear all the time and nobody can just accidentally take off or force me to take off – earrings, bracelets … cock piercing. Emilio thought they were so hot."
"You couldn't get them off me even if you were in the best shape of your life – and well, now I am in the best shape of your life and you’re in the worst shape of mine," I added with a touch of irony.
"I’m sorry, but this is my life now," I concluded, my voice firm. "I hope you can understand."
With that, I turned and walked back downstairs to rejoin my family and my beautiful boyfriend, leaving behind a bewildered Nico in my former body, grappling with the weight of my decisions.
Epilogue:
A week later, I get a call from my mom early in the morning while I am still in bed. Nonno passed away in his sleep. I feel a pang of sorrow mixed with relief, this body was officially mine forever.
I roll back over to see Emilio sleeping peacefully beside me. Leaning over, I gently kiss him on the lips, waking him from his slumber. He stirs and without opening his sleepy eyes, a soft smile graces his lips and he pulls me down into a big hug. In that moment, as I feel his skin on mine, I know with absolute certainty that this is exactly where I belong.
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Do you think part of the D20 journalistic bias comes from D20 being edited? It gives the appearance of much more effortless play and lets them control the pacing in a way unedited play like CR simply can't do. They get to (potentially) hide a lot of stuff people would jump on as flaws while CR has no choice but to let it all play out. I greatly prefer CR's approach, despite it biting them in the ass a bit through no fault of their own.
Answering these both together to group cause and my opinions, and I do want to note this is specifically about journalism/press coverage, not their respective fandoms even though there's obviously some overlap.
I think there's a couple things, but I do want to note this was actually prompted by Daggerheart, not Critical Role. The response from several prominent voices in the Actual Play journalism community, whom I will not name here but whom I do not respect intellectually, really was, within hours of the open beta (which as far as I know they didn't have early access to - more on that later) "um it could be better, I don't like xyz and also it's sooooooo important to have criticism" and again, it is important to have criticism, but also you act like D20 has never had a mediocre moment and that Kollok is brilliant, so.
This...got away from me a bit. I'd say I'm sorry but actually I adore writing thousands of words about actual play and it will happen again but I'm putting the detailed answer below a cut. The short answer is I think a lot of Actual Play journalists actually sort of fell into their jobs through being vaguely involved in nerd spaces and aren't actually equipped to talk intelligently about TTRPGs and actual play as a medium that should, at its best, be a perfect fusion of narrative and mechanics. So instead they're distracted by flashy edits and bright lights and cool noises and some abstract concept of "novelty" and write only about that. Also Critical Role is the 700 lb gorilla in the AP space (though not, actually, the TTRPG space) and doesn't give them early access and that's meaaaaaan. Indeed, for all I think a lot of their coverage of D20 and Worlds Beyond Number is obsessively fawning, I also think it's extremely surface level, frequently factually wrong, and fails to get at what's truly excellent about those shows either.
I think, honestly, the biggest one is that I don't actually think a lot of Actual Play journalists watch series in full. I was looking for Polygon coverage of Fantasy High Junior Year and they have one glowing article but it's more about Fantasy High as setting and institution and D20 "changing the game" (also more on this later) to the point of outright contradicting the pull quotes they used from interviewing Brennan Lee Mulligan (also more on this later). So I started looking through their coverage and actually, quite a number of their write-ups are based on only one episode, or half a season. Clearly, they haven't read the full open beta (nor have I, but I think their complaints about the character build process belie a profound misunderstanding of what TTRPGs are, also more on this later). So editing is certainly part of it because it's really easy to see cool special effects and sound design within one episode and shit out a hacky article about it, whereas actually getting to the substance - character relationships, cohesive narrative, storytelling - requires work that I do not think they're doing. And on the one hand I do kind of get it, because yeah, if journalism is your livelihood then you perhaps do not have the time to watch 4 hours of D&D a week for 2-3 years if you're only going to get one article every six months out of it. But I don't think the answer is "focus intently on Microsoft Powerpoint-esque scene transition tricks while ignoring that nothing occurring at the table is actually fun to watch." For more on this, see this post.
The second, which is very relevant to Daggerheart but also is actually a big gap in D20 and WBN coverage in my opinion, and which I put in the tags, is that I actually don't think a lot of journalists have a solid understanding of TTRPGs nor of most genres. And I think Critical Role has a particularly good understanding of both these things, actually, if one skewed towards collaborative storytelling that is not rules-light. I think one really big example is that one person within the space is mad at the Daggerheart questions for the character archetypes because what if your character doesn't fit these. I think this is dumb as shit. I actually think that a common criticism of D&D - that you can't play ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING - is not valid, or rather, it's a valid opinion to hold but if you want to play a character who doesn't fit into the available archetypes perhaps you need to find another game. We all inherently understand that Blades in the Dark characters will be members of a criminal organization in a relatively low-magic setting, correct? That you can't show up to BitD and play a lawful good wizard prince because that's not the story being told? Or like, how in Honey Heist, you are a bear and you are trying to get honey, and you cannot play a human child investigating the old abandoned house at the edge of town, but there's a cool game called Kids on Bikes that will let you do that? Great! Why is this suddenly so hard to understand in the realm of heroic fantasy, that you will fit into specific archetypes? Why do people's brains, if they have them to begin with, vanish suddenly? I know I just did a big old rant that included this within it but genuinely I think a lot of people are deeply ignorant of heroic fantasy, or don't like it, and either is fine, but then they get mad at the heroic fantasy game for having heroic fantasy archetypes when the answer is "maybe this will never make you happy because it's not for you." (Frankly, I think this is also why they love D20, because it doesn't really do straight-up heroic fantasy, and that's fine, but they do keep acting like doing a Game of Thrones pastiche is equivalent to the invention of the wheel.) Like...I remember in the Midst Q&A that Xen said they tend to not like playing typical D&D classes, but their solution was to, you know, create Midst instead of sitting around going "actually, because D&D doesn't support cyberpunk narrative and the character archetypes within very well it is an utter failure." (I could go on forever about how actually TTRPGs are not a showcase for your already extant OCs to prance around but that's a totally separate post).
Mechanics and story are inherently intertwined, is what I'm trying to get at (sorry I'm really tired and have a lot to do but I'm passionate about this answer, it will be rambly, she says like 3 pages in) and I really don't think most actual play journalists get this. At all. And I do think that CR, and Daggerheart, and the people working for it, and especially Spenser Starke, Rowan Hall, Matt Mercer, and Travis Willingham, get this more than almost anyone else in the field. I also think Brennan Lee Mulligan and Aabria Iyengar get this, and the thing is, for all the praise showered upon them, much of which I think is deserved and most of what I think is undeserved is not because they are lacking but because the person writing about them is an idiot crediting them for things they (Brennan and Aabria) would never claim to have invented, their mechanical prowess is rarely if ever written about well. Fantasy High Junior Year's downtime mechanics actually fill in a famous gap in D&D, namely, downtime, and provide an excellent marriage of story and mechanics in my opinion, and I haven't really seen any discussion, because that would require watching the part of the TTRPG show where they play the TTRPG, and knowing the vague word on the street about D&D criticism that isn't just "*nods sagely* capitalism is the BBEG."
And finally: related a bit to the edit but Critical Role used to not be able to provide any early access to press, because it was literally a live show, and I suspect they never broke the habit, and I think that is for the best. As discussed a lot of D20 coverage actually feels like they watched the press screener and then never returned to the show. And I do not know the politics about them, but given that several of these publications (notably Polygon, but some others) have been shitting on Critical Role for several years, and just generally given the way CR's leadership vs. how D20's leadership respond to fandom pressure, I suspect Critical Role does not give these journalists a ton of early or increased, if any. Honestly, why should you, if you're getting interviewed in Variety? And I think the journalists are mad, because they think they're special and should get treated as such.
I do want to wrap something up, and I want to thank @captainofthetidesbreath for talking a little about this in game design/ttrpgs and giving me the idea, but in story, you should be challenging your audience, expanding their horizons, and being new and interesting. In the actual playing of TTRPGs, especially a new one, it is vital to be inclusive and easy to understand and patient and provide points of reference. I really feel like many Actual Play journalists and some TTRPG ones as well have this equation flipped and are looking for challenging concepts that most people will never be able to get a group to be willing to play, and bells and whistles in production, but leave story as an afterthought. Critical Role designs games to actually be played and to be used specifically to tell good stories, and puts story before production, and I think that undercuts those journalists' whole deal.
#answered#Anonymous#long post#cr tag#anyway though i am going to go lie down and try to take a nap bc the daylight savings got me but good.
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Been seeing more posts about darker/dirtier urges in the nonhuman community - so I thought I'd pitch in as someone who's generally a pretty nasty animal.
I've seen lots of the usual hunting urges posts come up, but one thing I experience differently than those is that a lot of those posts seem to have a focus on being really gruesome and vicious to prey. To be honest, I don't feel that much. Sure, I do want to hunt and for me that would be killing a whole deer with my mouth, but the purpose is to just get it over with as fast as possible and enjoy my meal. I don't think much about a drawn out gory kill. That whole part kind of feels like when you're trying to open a canned dinner and your can opener isn't working. Open up and give me the food already y'know? Not to say I don't get hyped about hunting urges, but for me its more like the excitement of going out to eat at a good restaurant when you're really hungry.
What I do get downright vicious over is defending territory, packmates, or myself. When I feel that one of those are being threatened that's when my fantasies turn to teeth shearing through flesh like paper and bones cracking in my jaws. The gore and cruelty being an important part of a kill only really emerges when it is an emotional reaction spurring on my lycanthropic urges. I feel like you can see this some in wild wolves too. When hunting they aren't usually snarling and snapping left and right, they're focusing on a task. Their tails are wagging and they're mostly silent during the kill. Those videos and pictures of them teeth bared and eyes blazing are almost always during a conflict with other wolves or predators. I think this idea of the angry brutal hunting kill filled with contempt for the prey comes from the human train of thought that you have to really hate something to kill it.
Being nonhuman I do sometimes perceive humans as prey. Granted, they're something I have to be getting pretty desperate to feel that way about. Like most other predators these days have learned, I know they're not worth the effort. It doesn't stop me from noticing who the "easy catches" in a group would be though. Someone walking with headphones too immersed in their phone to notice me. Someone who's shoes are untied or not fit for running. Someone that looks like the heat is beating them down to exhaustion. These all jump out to me and I feel that twinge of prey drive smothered by the knowledge that I shouldn't and don't truly want to. In a way this can actually be helpful. The people that stand out as easy prey are usually struggling in some way and I can sate some of that hunting urge by noticing this, "hunting" them down, but just offering some help with whatever the problem is when I reach them instead. Tell them there's a water fountain in the building over there or that their shoes came undone, or whatever else it is.
I know there's been a lot of hate recently for those of us that experience the less pretty sides of being an animal too, but just remember you're not alone and that thought crimes don't exist. Feeling the raw edges of your animality is morally neutral, you just have to stay in control of your actual actions.
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ʚɞ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader || Chapter: 1 ୨୧
001 Game Time || Next
[Name] was standing behind the chain-link fence, wide-eyed and immersed in the E-class VS A-class baseball game exhibition.
"You can't seriously be interested in this— since when are you a sports fan?" Kaho scoffed.
"Since today?" Truthfully, [Name] wasn't all that interested in the game, her eyes were set on Karma.
"Oh I get it, you've got a thing for one of the players!"
"What? No! Where'd you get that from?!"
"Shindo right? Don't worry, I won't tell!" Kaho noted with a breathy laugh.
[Name] nodded fervently. It was better for Kaho to believe [Name] liked Shindo rather than word get out that she was dating Karma.
It was Karma's idea to keep everything on the down low, that way people wouldn't give her a hard time for being with him.
"Batter number eight, left fielder, Akabane." The commentator on the speaker brought her attention back to the field.
Karma stayed in place, all eyes were on him.
"Hang on, never pegged you as the type to play dirty, sir. If the rules haven't changed this little gambit ain't legal, they're bogarting the infield umpire should have called 'em on it by now."
His voice grew in confidence by the second, "Oh come on, anyone else smell a rat or is it just me?"
Karma turned to face the fence where most of the main campus was spectating from.
"Oh never mind, you guys are morons! Baseballs like a foreign language to ya!"
[Names] peers collectively grew angry, yelling insults back at him. Karma took it all in stride, turning back with a smile, happy to have elicited a response.
No one expected E class to play this well, even Shindo looked defeated, Kunugigaokas star player was struggling to get a hit against the lowest ranked class.
"Preed, do you mind getting us something to drink?" Kaho half-heartedly requested.
"Yeah I've got you, I'll be back!" He scurried off instantly, anything Kaho asked from him went.
"Kaho… don't you think this is a little much?" [Name] asked.
"It's not like they'll find out. Guys are such idiots."
Kaho dated a lot but not out of love, she got a kick out of toying with people, or maybe she wanted to feel loved, [Name] couldn't know for sure, she was only able to make assumptions based on what she saw on the exterior since Kaho wasn't the type to speak vulnerably.
"You're with three guys this time, and Preed is nice, I feel bad." [Name] said disapprovingly, she kept her tone hushed and careful no one was listening in.
"He'll live… Are you with me or against me?"
"Okay, Okay sorry."
If Kaho wasn't with Preed, she was with Seo or Yozo. [Name] couldn't go a day without third wheeling, ever since Karma was moved down to end class she hadn't had anyone else to hang out with.
Who knew baseball could be so intense? At some point Karma dodged a bat to the face by the millisecond, eventually, the game ended, the speakers blasted for the final announcement.
"The game is over, I can't even— this is insane… the winner is, I never thought I'd say this but the winner is E-class…!"
The students from the main campus complained about the loss as they left, the only people cheering were in end class themselves.
"Preed still isn't back, I'll go look for him, see you around [Name]." Kaho sighed on her way out.
[Name] pulled her phone out and sent Karma a message.
message start
[Name]
Meet me at the small building to my left?
Karma looked around the field until his eyes caught yours, his focus went back to your contact as he typed out a reply.
[Karma]
Yeah just a second
Ill have to make an excuse
message end
"What are you smiling about Karma?" Rio grinned while trying to get a peek at his phone from behind his shoulder, unfortunately for her, he could sense her creeping up on him before she got the chance.
"I'm getting a call, I'll meet back with everyone in a few!"
Once he was out of earshot Rio turned to Hinano
"What's he lying for? I wasn't able to read his screen but I know he wasn't getting a call."
"That's suspicious… What if he's hiding a girl!" Says Hinano
"Or a body!" Fuwa chimes in
"Out of those two outcomes the body seems more plausible…" Rio laughs, she tilts her head as if she's got a brilliant idea,
"Hey Ritsu, you should listen in on what he's doing through his phone!"
"I shouldn't eavesdrop… I told everyone I wouldn't do anything without full consent."
Unfortunately for Ritsu, Rio's knack for sweet-talking has always been unmatched, "Exactly! As his friends we have to look out for him, we can't do that if he's sneaking around all the time, doing this would make you such a caring friend!"
"I'd be caring…? I guess that makes sense, okay I'll do it for friendship!" Ritsu, who’s new to all sorts of human emotions and expressions, naively gathers up her resolve. Now she’s just as involved as the rest of the group.
ᝰ ♡
Karma put his batting helmet on [Name's] head "Sorry you had to watch us destroy your class on the field." He bragged, not anything new.
"I was rooting for you, keeping my poker face was hard!"
"Your eyes were shaped like hearts and you were practically foaming at the mouth, your poker face could use some work."
"I was not! Anyway, how are things in E class? You look pretty close with everyone." [Name] turned the topic around.
"Is that jealousy I hear? Cute, but don't worry [Name] I still like you best."
"I'm not jealous! Just a little worried, the way Mr. Ono decided to send you to end class was harsh."
"I'm good I promise, I like it better in 3E, The only thing I miss about the main campus is you."
He flicked her forehead. [Name] handed the helmet back to him, playfully shoving it into his chest.
"I know I complain about how annoying you are every day but, I wish Mr. Ono sent me to End class with you."
Karma smiled and shook his head no, "Don't go getting crazy ideas, tell you what, i'll take you out to eat as a consolation prize!"
"It's not a consolation prize if I wanted you to win!"
"Right, so what I'm hearing is, you're paying?"
"I take it back! I'm so upset you won…please pay for us!"
"Fineee…" He feigns disappointment "We'll go to [Café], right after school tomorrow, don't be late!"
#Akabaneonpurpose#ansatsu kyoushitsu#karma akabane#karma x reader#akabane karma x reader#karma akabane x reader#assassination classroom x reader#assassination classroom#assclass#karma akabane headcannons
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Eddie knew this was going to be a trainwreck ever since the moment Buck asked Cap if he could bring Natalia to the Grant-Nash barbecue. Now, of course, he had assumed it'd be mainly an internal trainwreck on his part, aching at the sight of Buck's arm around her waist, gritting his teeth as he smiles at her and attempts to be overtly polite. He just didn't expect the trainwreck to breach containment quite so spectacularly.
Its just...
Natalia says something about Buck's death being awesome and the entire garden falls deathly silent. Bobby's face freezes like he's caught in some terrible memory, whether its smoke or rain he's smelling, Eddie couldn't tell you. Hen steadies herself on Karen's arm, and Eddie is only the slightest bit bitter that the person he'd steady himself on isn't his to be steadied by. Maddie's eyes fill with tears almost instantaneously, and Chimney wraps her up, his own face tight with grief. Athena doesn't react beyond a poorly concealed scowl. Even Christopher has stopped playing with Denny to stare.
Still, its not quite a trainwreck until Christopher meets Eddie's eyes. The devastation on his face is enough to have the words falling off Eddie's tongue before he can bite them back.
"Awesome?" Eddie chokes out, swinging his gaze over to the happy couple. His eyes land on Buck, however, a ghostly pale, tight and drawn Buck. "What about it was awesome exactly?"
"Well, I mean, its pretty spectacular you have to admit," Natalia says, a hint of apprehension lining her words.
"Oh, sure. Spectacular. That's exactly how I'd describe it." Eddie nods, lets a cold, rueful laugh bubble up from inside of him and it feels like its been building ever since he joked about lightning striking twice. "What exactly about it was spectacular? His heartbroken sister sobbing in a hospital hallway, wondering if she'd have to watch another brother die? Oh, or was it his captain praying desperately by his bedside because he couldn't bear the thought of losing another child? Was that spectacular? Or was spectacular his brother-in-law's guilt heavy with grief and anchoring him to the hospital room because he thought he was supposed to be the one on the ladder? No." Eddie shakes his head, eyes darting to Buck's blank shock. "Do you know what was really spectacular? The eleven-year-old boy in the hospital waiting room begging to see his Buck on the brink of death just to ask him to come back. Was that spectacular?"
"N-no, of course not," she stammers out, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I just..."
Eddie ignores her, eyes locked onto Buck's faraway stare. He takes a step closer, tries not to preen when Buck's eyes immediately focus on him.
"You think she sees you?" Eddie asks, voice raw and way too honest for an entire family and a stranger to hear. "She can't see past the lightning bolt, Buck. But I've been here the whole time." Its here that his voice breaks, cracking into an ugly, pained whisper. "Seeing you, just waiting for you to see me too." He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head, takes a step back. "Chris, its time to go, come on."
Eddie grabs their jackets from where they're folded over the back of a garden chair and puts a hand on Christopher's back when he's close enough. Eddie doesn't look back as they disappear into the house, but he catches Maddie's mumbled thank you when they pass.
The ride home is silent, Christopher's eyes teary and Eddie's throat still clogged with the words he left unsaid. They'll talk when they get home. Eddie will ask Buck to talk later too, not an apology for the words, but for how they were said.
Its fine, they have time.
But the blare of truck horns feels a lot like a wake up call.
#sami rambles#i can see a car crash cliffhanger i cannot lie.#everything this season feels too ominous for it not to come to fruition in the worst of ways#911 spoilers#911 spec#911 fic#911 fanfic#911 spec fic#911 show#911 fox#buddie#buck x eddie#buddie fic#buddie fanfic#buck x eddie fic#evan buckley#eddie diaz#firefam#christopher diaz#btw i know natalia doesn't mean it like this. i just think eddie's emotions would get the better of him in the end
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