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mynameismckenziemae · 3 months

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In Case You Didn’t Know Part 1

(next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: Jake and Charlotte ‘Charlie’ Mason (you) have been best friends since diapers. You’ve been there for each other every step of the way; middle school bullies, broken hearts, baseball games, grad school and the Navy. Jake’s shaken to the core when a mission goes south and he takes his medical leave at home, knowing you’re the only thing that’ll make him feel okay again.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI-this chapter doesn’t contain smut but future ones will, discussions of death and cancer, swearing, etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake always thought the whole ‘life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die’ saying was bullshit.

But as his jet plummets toward the ground and smoke fills the cockpit, he realizes it’s true; with one exception.

Every memory features you.

The engine failure alarms serve as the background music to each one that flies by. On the first day of kindergarten when you took his hand to lead him inside because he was too scared to go in alone. Being each other’s first kiss the night before Becca Wilson’s birthday party since seven minutes in heaven was rumored to happen. The relieved smile when you found out you were allowed to play on the boy’s high school baseball team since there weren’t enough girls for softball. How you blushed at his whistle when you walked down the stairs in your prom dress. The way you melted when he handed you the black lab puppy you wanted so badly after grad school but couldn’t afford. Finally, the heart-wrenching sobs as he held you when cancer stole your mom 6 months ago. He never wanted to hear it again.

Will you cry like that if he dies?

“No,” he mutters, picturing your tears, your devastation.

Is it better or worse that you don’t know he’s in love with you?

“Hangman, I need you to eject,” your voice whispers.

His brow furrows. You’ve never called him by his callsign.

“Charlie?” He mumbles, unconsciousness fighting to pull him under.

“HANGMAN! EJECT!” Rooster screams, pleading over the radio.

He snaps out of it and adrenaline pumps through his veins when he sees the ground rapidly approaching.

Everything goes black when he pulls the ejection handle.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“…recovery is at least 12 weeks. We’ll get you transferred to NHCP-“

“No. I’m going home,” Jake interrupts the doctor. He hates everything medical; between the needles, blood, fluorescent lighting, antiseptic smells, he feels like he could crawl out of his skin.

“Lt. Seresin, you’re going to need a lot of assistance. Help showering, stairs are out of the question, you can’t drive, daily physical therapy-“

“I know. I’ll have help at home and I know a great physical therapist,” Jake says in a tone that leaves no room for discussion.

The doctor hesitates before resigning with a sigh. “Alright. I’ll get the write the orders and finish your discharge paperwork so we can get you out of here.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A loud crash from your front porch has you sitting straight up in bed with a racing heart.

The hair on your dog’s (named Cash, after the Man in Black himself) back stands straight up as he growls low in his throat.

You slip out of bed and pick up the baseball bat you keep by your bed before creeping down the hall behind your dog.

“Charlie? It’s me,” Jake groans through the door. Cash relaxes when he hears Jake’s familiar voice and his tail starts to wag excitedly.

You drop the bat and throw it open. “What are you doing here at 5 in the morning?!” You laugh, but it dies when you see him on the ground. “Oh my God, Jake! What happened?! Are you okay?!” You gasp, crouching to help him onto his back. Cash stays back, sensing something isn’t right.

“I lost my balance on the step trying to juggle my suitcase and these fucking crutches,” he grits out, trying to right himself.

“Leave the crutches. I’ll hand them to you once I get you up. On three, okay? 1,2,3,” you say, hoisting him to his feet. Well, foot.

But before you can hand him the crutches, he wraps you in a tight hug with a choked sob.

“Oh Jake,” you whisper, tears prickling in your own eyes. You’ve only seen him cry a handful of times, and never like this.

You rub soothing circles on his back, only releasing him when he finally relaxes. “Let’s get you inside and off that leg.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“You look like awful,” you observe as you get him settled on your couch.

“Thanks,” he grimaces when you elevate his foot.

“What am I working with here?” You nod to his cast.

“Fractured the 2 bones in my lower leg. Nothing else is broken, I’m sore everywhere and my shoulders are pretty bruised too, but I was lucky.”

“You had to eject,” you conclude when he pulls his collar to show you the dark purpling.

“Yeah, in a heavily wooded area, hence the scratches on my face. I suppose it was a good thing though, slowed me down a little before I hit the ground.”

You bite your lip to stop the many questions on the tip of your tongue. He looks so exhausted, in pain, and not ready to talk about it yet.

“I’ll make us something to eat and I’m going back to sleep for a bit. You look like you could some too.”

He nods in agreement. “I haven’t slept in days…I just wanted to get home.”

“Well, now you are and can rest. I’ll be back in a few.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“Here, take these,” you hand him some over-the-counter pain meds and a glass of orange juice once he has some food in his stomach.

“Thanks, I’m sorry to drop in like this. I don’t-I didn’t think things through, I just needed to get out of that hospital-“

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, unable to watch him getting more and more anxious. “Really, Jake. You know I’m always here for you. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Charlie. So much,” he says, voice cracking. But he clears his throat and changes the subject. “This couch is amazing, but do you really need 50 pillows?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and roll your eyes. “Yes, I really do,” you say, smacking him gently with one of the said pillows before handing him the remote. “Wanna find something to watch while I throw these in the dishwasher?”

“Sure, thanks again.”

“Welcome,” you reply, ruffling his hair like you always have. It used to drive him crazy but now he relishes those touches.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“Yessssss, Joe Dirt! I haven’t seen this in ages,” you say, throwing a blanket over him as you come back to the living room.

“We watched it last time I was home,” Jake says, giving you a look.

“Yeah, that was 5 months ago though,” you reply. Recalling why he was here.

Your mom had died early on a Tuesday morning. It was as peaceful as it could be when cancer ravishes someone so quickly. Cash was curled around your legs as you held one of her hands in yours, while Jake’s mom, Ruth held the other. Jake’s sister, Emma, played with the short hair that started to grow back when she stopped the chemo like she always did when she was little. Jake’s dad, Tom had a hand on her leg while he hummed ‘I’ll Fly Away’.

Jake’s family left once the funeral home took her body away after much convincing and reassuring that you were fine, and finally you could fall back into bed. That’s where you stayed for the next 18 hours until Jake found you, so empty and unlike yourself. He was on his way home when he found out Lisa had taken a turn for the worst, but she went downhill quicker than anyone expected. Your first tears fell as he climbed into bed and held you when the sobs wracked your body.

You’re not sure what strings he pulled but he stayed with you for 3 weeks. He helped you bathe and dry your hair the day of the funeral, making you smile when he said he couldn’t do make up. He held your hand at the service, and talked to everyone who approached to give their sympathies so you didn’t have to. He cleaned up her room, packed her clothes into totes, and arranged for the hospital bed to be taken away so you didn’t have to look at it.

“You could go years without watching it and be able to recite it by heart with how many times we’ve seen this movie,” Jake sighs dramatically.

“It’s my favorite. Can you blame me? Look at that mullet.”

“That’s what does it for ya? Maybe I’ll have to grow one,” Jake jokes, lifting his head as you sit down and resting back down on your thighs. Cash jumps up on the other side, resting his head between Jake’s and your stomach.

“Don’t tease me, you’ll turn me on with that visual,” you laugh. “Can you do the white-trash facial hair too? That combination? Phew! Panty dropping!”

He looks up from your lap and laughs for the first time since the accident.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

The tension leaves his body as your fingers run through his hair, and he’s asleep within minutes.

Your chest tightens as you look him over; the dark circles under his eyes, a cut under his chin has stitches that will need to come out soon, the purple bruising by his shoulders when you shift his collar, and his leg swelling above the cast.

Yet he’s as beautiful as ever. He’s always been attractive-cute as a boy, hot as a teenager but downright mouth-watering as a man. You started to develop feelings in high school and hoped when you went your separate ways after that those feelings would fizzle out, but they didn’t. They were always simmering on the back burner with the absence, rising to the top with every reconciliation and boiling over when he took care of you 6 months ago.

You aren’t sure how Jake feels. He’s always been a flirt but sometimes you catch the heat in his eyes and the way he reaches for you before catching himself. As much as you long to find out, you aren’t willing to risk ruining your friendship.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake’s choking, panicked gasps wake you a few hours later.

“Jake, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re okay,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead before you think better of it.

His eyes fly open and his panicked gaze meets yours. Cash comes over and nudges Jake's hand with his nose, whining until Jake puts his hand on his head.

“Take some deep breaths with me. In…one, two, three. Hold…one, two, three. Out…one, two, three. Good Jake, again.”

You repeat it until his breathing regulates.

“Charlie, we need to talk. I need you…r help.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: I think this is the first thing I’ve written without smut. Don’t worry, it’s coming. Sorry this was a little short, but it felt like a good stopping point.

Fun fact: Joe Dirt is the movie my husband and I watched the first time we hung out (back in 2009 🥴)

Every interaction is appreciated but I really like hearing what you think ☺️ Especially since this is the first time I’ve written something not based around smut haha.

Tagging:

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#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #in case you didn't know #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw

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kiwisbell · 6 months

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Las Mañanas || Chapter 3 [javier peña]

She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.

series masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: javi getting the fucking love he deserves, coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, technical infidelity, reader still has a shitty husband, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, extreme grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, so much fluff, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout, unprotected PIV (get used to this, these two are rabid), the L word turns javi on, stalking, anxiety, threats of violence, nightmares

word count: ~ 7k

chapter three: dreaming in technicolour

If Javier is grumpy when he can’t see her for a day, he’s miserable when she visits her mother in New York over Thanksgiving.

It's only a week, but he feels the loss in his home like she never lived here at all. Her clothes are gone because she packed them for the trip, and her toiletries are no longer next to his in the bathroom. He stays longer at work and makes excuses that he's close to something. He isn't—they never are.

He’s memorised her arrival time and the gate where she’ll come home to him. He hates how cold the bed is when he wakes up. He feels like an ungrateful child, but he doesn't give a shit because he misses her, and he’s worried sick all the fucking time that something will go wrong.

Murphy’s barely speaking to him by the time the week is halfway through; he's smart enough to know Javier’s wound up tight enough to blow at any second. They conduct raids and they burn through paperwork until their eyes cross, but Murphy doesn't tease him.

Javier goes to the café. It's the sliver of routine he still possesses. He drinks the coffee and talks to Jorge, who he thinks may finally be warming up to him. He still gets called a cabrón three times in that half-hour period, but Jorge’s right; he is an asshole.

“More coffee?” grunts the middle-aged man. His Spanish is coarse, like he's always angry, but Javier knows he treats her like she’s God’s gift to the world. He gets it.

Javier checks his watch. He’s got time. “Please.”

“She's a good girl,” says Jorge, wiping down the table and pouring more coffee in the process. He’s surly and his brows are permanently horizontal over his dark eyes. “Visits her mother because she's been struggling after her father died. He was a good man, too.”

Javier frowns at his coffee cup. “How did he…”

“Cancer.” Jorge spits the word. “They couldn't have afforded the treatment even if they had caught it on time. I knew the bastard since high school. I was there when she was born.”

Javier suddenly feels repelled by the coffee in his mug. “She have any family besides her mom?”

Jorge’s eye twitching is all the answer he needs. “Wish I could go back and tell her never to come here.”

Javier snorts. “She’d never listen.”

To his surprise, Jorge lets out a laugh, rough and touched with years of smoking. “No, she wouldn't.”

She’s examining the ticket with her gate number like it might magically change before her eyes. When she's certain she’s memorised it, she rushes toward the right terminal, a smile growing on her pretty face. A man lowers the newspaper from his face and makes a call.

“She's back, patrón.”

Javier is at the Bogotá airport an hour before her flight touches down. Buys an expensive coffee, lights a cigarette, and paces in front of her gate until he's certain a number of employees are eyeing him suspiciously. When he finally sees her, the ache in his chest eases up.

"Javi!"

He's never heard someone so excited to see him in his life. She's already running at him, and he has to plant one foot behind him and spread his arms wide to catch her when she jumps. Tackles him like a rugby player, her ankles locking around his waist. She grabs his face and kisses it in fifty places. "Missed—you—so—much."

Feeling the weight of her against him, her softness and her warmth, Javier forgets how he ever relaxed before he knew her. If he even bothered to try.

"Oh, baby," he says, heart clenching, taking off his sunglasses and placing them atop her head. "Honey… gotta let me breathe. Let me see you, c'mon."

He gives the back of her thigh a squeeze as he sets her on the floor. She grins up at him and he knows he's looking at the most beautiful thing in the world, right fucking in front of him. He reaches around her and grabs her waist, yanking her close. She gasps out her laugh. "So fucking beautiful," he whispers into her ear, kissing all the way from there to her mouth. He loves the way her knees buckle. "Missed you."

She slides her arms up around his neck. "You still need a haircut, viejo," she says fondly, scratching her nails along the nape of his neck. Javier leans into her touch. "You been taking care of yourself?"

He nods vehemently. "Bet your ass I have, baby."

She hums, looking not quite content. "And how late were you at the office last night?"

Javier pulls back for a moment. "Is that a new necklace?"

She just laughs and kisses him, deep. He wants to drown here. "Let's go home," she says.

Javier picks up her bags and eyes the long yellow sundress she's wearing, with a slit up the leg. It must be new. "That's a pretty dress, baby. It won't last the night."

She follows him with a bounce in her step as he moves around the truck, which is parked in the lot. He stuffs her bags in the car and grabs her hand, pulling her along. He's got plans for his girl tonight. He's not going to waste time.

He lights up another cigarette when he's in the car, already pulling her into his lap right from the driver's side. She yelps when she accidentally honks the horn with her ass on the way in, but then she just sinks right against him and throws her arms around his neck. She's so warm and inviting and all his, and it's no wonder he's been so fucking grumpy all week.

His hands are on her back, beneath her dress, lifting it as he goes. Her soft skin soothes his soul and stirs his cock. "Fucking beautiful," he says gruffly. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"So are you, amor," she whispers, cupping his face and kissing him real deep and slow. "So handsome, so strong. Missed you so much."

He nudges his nose against hers and says, "Keeping you awake all night, honey. Hope you aren't tired." She just smiles brightly at him.

"How was your week?" she chirps, sweet voice innocent as she kisses along his throat. She's teasing him, his little fucking fox, and it's a wonder he can even string words together when she begins to suck on his pulse.

"Mierda," he grunts, rocking up into her. Her breathy laugh heats up his blood. He blows out some smoke and flicks the cigarette out the window, just so he can return the favour, pulling her head back with a gentle hand in her hair and nipping at her jaw. She whimpers. "Two can play, cariño."

"Yeah?" She's breathing hard, her breasts pushing against his chest. He takes this as an opportunity to slide his hands around to her front and squeeze them under her dress. She sighs happily. "You missed my tits, didn't you, Javi?"

"Yeah, I did, honey," he mumbles, enjoying the jolt of her hips when he squeezes her again. "Missed all of you. Your body... Fuck, cielito."

“Someone could see.” Her breathy voice is so sexy it makes him dizzy with lust. And even though he doesn't want to give a shit about fucking her on his truck bench, risking someone seeing her naked, bare for him and only him, is wrong. Too many men have taken advantage of her body; Javier wants her to know how sacred it is to him.

“Sí, sí,” he grunts, holding onto her hips. “Sé, bebita. I know. Tell me about your trip.”

She hums, leaning in and brushing her nose against his. He uses the proximity to kiss her again. “Mom’s doing better,” she tells him. “We talk about Papá and Nina, and it doesn't make her break down the way it used to. The big city keeps her distracted.”

Javier tucks her hair behind her ear. Hearing her talk so fondly about her family makes him miss his old man. Chucho will love her. “You two go shopping?”

She bites her lip and laces their fingers together. “We did. Got some lingerie, too. If you’re interested.”

She’s going to kill him. He shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back against the headrest. “I’m fuckin’ interested, honey.”

She slides off his lap and sits next to him on the bench of the truck, her legs still resting atop his thighs, laying her head on his shoulder. “I really did miss you,” she says softly. “Felt like a teenage girl again, moping over sleeping alone and daydreaming about our next date.”

He kisses her knuckles. “I’ve been a real asshole without you.”

“You’re an asshole with me, Javi.” She squeezes his hand fondly. “Wouldn’t change you for anything.” Her lips find his ear and she gently bites the lobe, making his cock jump in his jeans. “Mi guapo gruñón.”

He holds her thigh as he drives them back to his place. They make small talk and she fills him in on her trip, and he’s fucking happy.

He kisses her hand when he parks in the driveway and opens the passenger door for her, but she's staring across the street with a frown on her face, halfway out the truck. Javier whips around to see what she's looking at, but she seems to snap out of it and squeezes his arm. “Just thought I saw something.”

Javier cups the back of her head and kisses her. “Get inside,” he says into her mouth. “And take off your dress.”

The day the Palace of Justice burns, she’s in bed with him.

It’s a lazy morning, the kind where they’ve been awake for twenty minutes but neither of them wants to get up. Drifting in and out, they lie next to one another and talk when they feel like it. He has one arm around her, tracing shapes on her bare back, while she rests her cheek on his heart and listens to it beat. His other hand caresses her arm mindlessly as he tries to find a reason to leave his bed. There’s work, for both of them, but it doesn’t seem good enough. Not when they’re both comfortable, naked, and warm under the bedsheets, basking in the early morning sunshine.

When there’s a knock at his door, they both groan, and she buries her face in his chest before she elects to untangle herself from him and stand up. Though he gets a view of her bare ass while she walks around the bed to retrieve her clothes, Javier groans at the loss of her. He throws an elbow over his eyes as she goes to look through the peephole.

“Put some pants on,” she hisses at him. “It’s Connie.”

“Murphy?” He frowns, grudgingly getting up and pulling on his jeans, not giving enough of a shit to bother with underwear.

“No, viejo, the other Connie.” She opens the door when he’s decent. “Hi, Connie, it’s good to see you.”

“I’m sorry to barge in,” says Murphy’s wife. Javier spots another woman beside her, a brunette wearing the same scrubs as Connie. Javier thinks he recognises her. “Can she come in?”

His girl is a real saint, because she’s ushering the other woman inside before Javier can even pull his shirt all the way over his head. “What’s going on?” she asks Connie, who hurriedly tells them she’ll explain later, only to rush upstairs to her apartment, presumably to call her husband.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to disturb you,” says the stranger. She sounds like she means it. His girl goes to make some tea in the kitchen, ever the server. Javier bites down on his comment that he feels pretty fucking disturbed.

He’s still frowning, but he finally feels the spark of recognition. “You’re the woman who works with Connie at the hospital. Elisa.”

She nods, accepting the cup of steaming tea. Javier pulls his girl close while the woman in scrubs nods her thanks. “I wasn’t lying before, Agent Peña. About being a guerrillera.”

Javier rubs his hand down his face and feels the familiar tug for a cigarette. There’s a fucking communist in his apartment. The poor woman will be persecuted wherever she goes, and if it’s as urgent as Connie’s made it seem, she’s got information the DEA could use. Which makes it even more dangerous for her.

His girl understands the gravity right away. She’s helping Elisa to the sofa and rubbing the woman’s arm in soothing circles while she introduces herself and asks if she’d like anything to eat. Then, her eyes meet Javier’s, and she jerks her gaze subtly in the direction of the bedroom. We need to talk.

“Javi,” she says softly when he closes the door, ensuring their privacy.

“I know,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Big fucking problem.”

She’s fretting, pulling her lip between her teeth and hugging herself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let her inside without asking you first. It’s not my—”

“It is your home, baby,” he says firmly, unfurling her arms from her own waist. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“She’s in so much danger.” She shakes her head, staring at the door like she can see the woman through it. “We can keep her safe, right? I… I don’t want this to burn you, Javier. I couldn’t live with myself.”

“I’m not going to burn,” he mutters into her hair when he kisses the top of her head. “If she’s got information we can use, that means we finally have something. And that means we keep her safe. You know my code.”

She nods, brushing a knuckle over his chin. “You’re so good, Javi,” she tells him. There’s so much conviction in her voice he almost believes it himself. “If you promise me you’ll be safe, I can go to work without a hernia. You don’t have to mean it, but you should make it sound convincing.”

Javier kisses her deeply. “I’ll be safe,” he says. “I promise you I’ll be safe. You’ll come home and I’ll be right where you left me, cielito. I fucking promise.”

She smiles up at him. “Good.”

The television in the little café is emblazoned with live footage of the Palace of Justice siege. He watches her work around the gathering crowd, refilling pots of coffee and assuaging anxieties where she can. She's worried, too. He can tell by the crease in her brow.

“Cabrón.” Luis snaps his fingers in his face. “Pay fucking attention. You're supposed to be watching her.”

“What do you think I’m doing, pendejo? Baking a fucking cake?” He smacks Luis in the chest. “It's not like watching her is hard. Don't you have a job to do?”

Luis returns to looking through his binoculars. From the roof, his vantage point is perfect. “Yeah, I got a fuckin’ job to do. It's called watching a hot woman serve coffee and getting so bored I might try sucking my own dick.”

He lifts his own binoculars. “If only she'd go back to her fucking apartment. That asshole never leaves her alone.”

“Because he's got a hard-on for her.” Luis snorts. “Isn't that why we’re here in the first place?”

“Just keep watching. If she goes back there—”

“Yeah, yeah. Christ, man, I’m not a moron; I know the drill,” grumbles Luis. “I’m fucking starving. You want lunch?”

He knows they'll be here a while. “Yeah. Why not.”

She wakes up to a crash.

It comes from the kitchen. She scrambles upward until her back hits the headboard. "Javier," she whispers, frantic. Her heart is pounding. "Javi, wake up."

He grumbles out a hmph, hand grasping to seek out her thigh in the darkness. He squeezes and says, "Vuelve a dormir, bebita (Go back to sleep)," not quite awake enough to form thoughts in English. She reaches down and begins to shake him when the sounds of footsteps come closer. There are people inside their home.

She keeps shaking, but he's intent on seeking her warmth, wrapping his arms around her waist and scrunching the material of her shift in his fingers. Why won't he wake up? "Fuck, Javier, wake up," she says, urgent, panicking. "Someone's in the house. Please—"

There's noise at their bedroom door. She freezes when it slowly creaks open, helpless, unable to move. Why can't she move? Why won't he wake up?

Three men, faces covered with black masks, have guns raised when they enter the room.

She's going to die.

Two of them take Javier, who finally awakes once his hands are no longer touching her. His eyes slowly come to life with terror when another man grabs her by the throat and presses a barrel to her temple.

"NO!" Javier yells, struggling to no avail against the two men holding him on his knees. They've got a gun to his head, too, but he keeps thrashing around. He can't reach her, she's going to die, they'll both bleed alone and afraid in their own fucking home. She's still on the bed, grasping at the man's arm as it locks around her neck. "¡No ella! Not her!" cries Javier, his voice raspy with sleep and rage. "¡No ella! Hijo de puta, voy a matarte. ¡VOY A MATARTE! (Not her! You son of a bitch, I will kill you.)"

She keeps looking into his eyes, their livid horror, and whimpers, "Por favor... No lo lastimes (Don't hurt him). Por favor. Haré lo que sea (I'll do anything)."

"¿Qué tengo que hacer? (What should I do?)" says the man holding her to his friends. "¿Quién de ustedes debe morir primero? (Which one of you should die first?)"

The cold barrel on her temple digs harder, like he's trying to leave an imprint. She cries out, and Javier roars, struggling and writhing, knowing he can't help, knowing he's too late.

She just doesn't want him to watch her die.

"La puta debe mirar (the bitch should watch)," says another.

She cries harder. "NO! JAVIER!" she begs. "PLEASE, NO!"

A shot rings out, but she has closed her eyes. She waits to die. At least she'll join him. Her love. Her life. The man whispers in her ear before he presses the trigger.

“This is for Nicolás, bitch.”

When she awakes, she grabs for her throat, like she’s testing the flow of air to her lungs. Her hand migrates upward, from her jaw to her cheek to her forehead. She’s burning hot, sweat beading across her forehead. Next to her, Javier sleeps. Alive.

This is the third dream she’s had in a week like this. Every time, she has to watch him die.

She’s had the feeling for a week or so. Like someone is watching her.

She doesn't tell Javier. He's worried enough about her as it is after the break-in. Even kissing good-bye before he leaves for work has become a dance of her pulling away and him pushing himself back into her. They've ended up in the storage room at the café a few times, kissing until she's breathless and she has to threaten him with no sex. When she does, he’ll pout like he always does and kiss her harder; then he’ll leave, and she’ll go about her day.

When it happens, she usually sees a shadow. It appears in the corner of her eye, shaped vaguely like a dark blob or two, and when she whips her head around to look, it's gone. But the tingles that shoot down each knob of her spine are unmistakable. Someone is following her.

She assumes Nicolás is trying to torment her. She doesn't put it past him to worm around his restraining order. If he knows she's with Javier, it’s only more ammunition for him; she'll never get divorced. Not when he can claim she's only trying to get away from him because she's having an affair.

But Nicolás doesn’t know that she feels loved with Javier. She feels strong and beautiful and safe when she's wrapped up in him, and she knows she's in love. He’s it for her—the only man she ever wants to know this way. She knows all the freckles and little scars on his body, she knows how easy it is to talk with him like they’ve known each other forever, and she knows Nicolás would do anything to make sure his wife suffers for knowing another man.

A stranger enters the café. He’s older, visibly older than Javier, with laugh lines and light hair that’s been combed over a few too many times. It’s obvious he’s balding, but he walks with enough charisma that she presumes most people decide not to tease him for it. His eyes are dark, but they’re bright, like a shark’s. He sits down in Javier’s seat at the counter.

“Buenos dias,” he says. “Café, por favor.”

“Of course.” She gives him a bright smile and goes to work. The man’s eyes follow her as she follows routine, but she’s got the sense not to let him know she’s aware of his voyeuristic gaze. “It’s a hot one out there, ¿no?”

It’s her usual script. Most regulars don’t deviate from it even when they’re heard it a hundred times, or when it’s not so hot out. They indulge her, like it’s an inside joke. This man just slides the coffee cup toward him and watches her while he takes his first sip.

“A friend recommended me,” he tells her, after she’s been holding his stare for uncomfortably long. “He was right; good coffee.”

She manages to keep her smile painted on as she continues with her usual lines. “Then I’ll make sure you pay full price.”

When he sets down the cup, it doesn’t make a louder noise than those mugs usually do. But the breeze outside has stilled; the crowd walking by has lulled; even the idle chatter in the café quiets down; and the noise makes her jump. The man’s smile looks like a sneer. Maybe that’s how he got those lines around his eyes.

“Nicolás wants his money,” he says.

She stiffens. “It’s a shame Nicolás can’t come here and ask for money himself. It’s almost like he can’t be near me.”

She knows taunting is a terrible idea. But he’s awfully brazen, coming into her place of work and demanding money on behalf of his snivelling boss. “Nicolás wants his money, bitch.”

A henchman and a broken record. They don’t come as smart as they used to.

“How much is he paying you?” she asks. “He’s clearly got enough money to keep you cheerfully employed. I don’t see why he needs mine.”

The man stands up and walks around the counter until he’s out of view of the other customers. She knows what’s about to come. She’s dealt with this exact sort of threat before. “Because if you don’t give him what he wants, he’s going to break your goddamn restraining order and take the money himself.”

From his waistband emerges a pistol, its barrel pointed straight at her stomach. “Nicolás can’t take a bitch’s money if she’s dead. Do you really think they won’t trace it back to him?” She keeps her expression neutral for the sake of not causing a scene. “The jilted husband, angry enough to take revenge.”

“You think I’m going to shoot you?” he says with a scoff. “No, guapa, I’m going to shoot your man-whore DEA boyfriend. Something tells me that will convince you.” Something on her face must change, her expression shifting to mirror the spark of panic sending tremors through her body, because he laughs. Good-natured, like they’re friends swapping jokes. The gun disappears back into his waistband. “And you just told me it will.”

She’s frozen to the spot as he walks out, leaving the full mug behind. “Thanks for the coffee.”

She must look like she’s seen a ghost, because Javier is on her in a second when she gets home. He’s shirtless, his jeans low on his hips. Cigarette dangling from his lips, he assesses her with that deep frown of his. “You’re shaking, cielito.”

“Cold,” she says, though it comes out as a faint squeak.

“It’s eighty degrees outside.” Javier ducks his head so he can find her gaze and traps her with his dark eyes. “Did something happen?”

She can’t stand keeping her worries secret for a second longer, not when it’s now his life she’s endangering. “I think you’re in trouble, Javi.” The guilt makes her want to double over and retch. “It’s my fault. I’m… God, I’m sorry. It's all my fault.”

“Hey.” He crushes the cigarette and pulls her in, his chin resting on top of her head. “Baby, I’m okay. I’m safe.”

She clutches his chest, her nails digging into his pecs as she shudders, overwhelmed by the reality that he’s here with her.

“I love you,” she tells him. Something true and real that she can hold onto.

For a moment, he doesn’t say a word, and she doesn’t mind. It’s real for her; that’s all she knows. “I love you,” she says, pulling back just to look in his eyes. “You’re the only way for me to go, Javier. It’s you, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. It’s you, tesoro.”

When he kisses her, it takes eons. He steps close, their breaths mingling, his nose brushing hers. His fingers trace the dips in her back with such care, featherlight, that she shivers. Even when he touches his mouth to hers, it’s so gentle she could melt, and his lips taste like smoke, like the apple pie they shared this morning. He nudges her mouth open with his and her lips part willingly, letting him take control, tasting her tongue the way he wants. She sighs happily into his mouth when his hand pushes at her back, tugging her closer, his other hand cradling her face. It’s sweet, slow, aching—and when it’s over, he smiles. A real grin, his eyes crinkling and his teeth showing.

“I love you,” he says, resting his forehead against hers. “Fuckin’ love you so much, baby. Don’t fucking deserve you.”

She stands on her toes and slots her mouth back over his. It’s an assured kiss. “Bullshit,” she says, cupping his face with her hands. “You are everything I want.”

Javier’s grip on her waist tightens. “Whatever happened, mi cielo… We’ll fix it. We’ve done it before. We’ll fuckin’ do it again.” He walks them to the bedroom and kicks the door shut behind him. She’s up against the wall, in the dark, wrapping her arms up around his neck. “Not letting you go.”

Tears blur her vision, but it’s dark anyway. “You better not.”

He slips her sweater over her head and teases his fingers under the waistband of her skirt as he kisses her again. She lets the tears fall when he slips his hand lower and traces a line up her slit with his middle finger, shivering in his grasp. “Muy hermosa,” he muses, his voice a rasp in her ear. She has to hold onto his shoulder when he dips his finger inside her and bites her earlobe.

He’s taking his time, making her feel everything. The scratch of his jeans against her thighs when he finally pulls her skirt down and sinks to his knees with it, kissing and sucking every inch of her legs until he reaches her ankles. The prickle of his moustache upon her sensitive flesh. The soothing kisses he gives to the bruises already there from the nights she begged him to mark her. He’s not marking her tonight. He’s taking it so slow she might die, her heartbeat kicking at her ribs, soft whines leaving her mouth.

“Javi…”

He doesn’t say anything, but a hum leaves his mouth when his lips reach her inner thigh and he sees her wetness, all for him. “Javi, please,” she sighs, writhing badly enough to make him grip her thigh and pull it over his shoulder like he’s a fucking saddle.

“Tell me you love me,” he says, his middle and ring fingers finding her pussy again, sinking in deep enough to brush up against a delicious, explosive spot. “Say it.”

“I… oh, fuck, I…” She bites her lip and releases it, her eyes opening to find him looking up at her in the darkness, eyes like black holes she’s already falling into. “I love you,” she whispers, her fingers scratching down the back of his head.

He presses his face into her core and licks slowly, achingly slowly, up her centre. She pushes out a huff, hips rocking, and he squeezes her thigh, telling her he’ll make her feel good, just be patient. It’s overwhelming, keeping her eyes locked on his, watching him lick into her and taste her arousal while she fights to keep her head from tipping back against the wall. His nose brushes her clit and she makes such a pathetic noise it must make him feel bad for her. He groans into her cunt and wraps his lips around her clit.

It feels so good she can barely see. Her head gives in, falling back as he closes his eyes and grips her thighs tighter, alternating between sucking and licking her clit, the noises of his slurps and grunts fucking obscene as he works her up so much she thinks she might pass out. Her hand grabs onto his hair for support but he doesn’t seem to mind. Her thighs tense and moans spill from her mouth shamelessly, and he knows she’s close because he lets her grind into his face as he pulls her clit back into his mouth.

“I love you, I love you,” she gasps, the coil snapping, her bones melting as Javier holds her up, leaving her clit and lapping around it so he doesn’t overstimulate her. He squeezes her thigh with each pulse of her cunt and makes sure she can still stand before he rises.

“Te amo,” he says, gripping her chin in his hand and kissing her breathless. “Te amo, mi cielo.”

She walks him backward until he falls into a sitting position at the end of the bed. She crawls onto it and straddles him, pushing her breasts into his chest as she kisses him, bites at him, and finally leans back to stare into his eyes, black in the dark. His hands find her hips and he nods. He knows exactly what she wants.

“Up,” she whispers. He lifts his hips off the bed and she shucks down his jeans, climbing off him so she can take the rest of their clothes off. He’s reaching out to squeeze her breasts before she can get back onto his lap, and it makes her laugh. “Más despacio, vaquero (slow down).”

“So beautiful,” he grumbles. “Ride me, baby. Take what you want.”

She takes his cock, hard and leaking against his stomach, in her hand and slides it through her wetness before she finds her entrance and sinks down, as slowly as he teased her. He hisses, hips jerking, but she leans in and sucks on the skin beneath his earlobe. “Behave,” she says, giddy with control, especially when he gasps and groans, twitching inside her.

Her clit is rubbing against the hairs at the base of his cock before she starts to move. Holding onto his shoulders for support, she lifts herself up and twists her hips before bringing them back down. His jaw is clenched so tight she doesn’t think he’s capable of opening his mouth, but she wants to draw it out of him. She repeats the trick a few more times, kissing him all the while, letting him relax into her, lips parting so she can taste her arousal on his tongue.

She grinds and bounces on his cock, letting herself feel the depth of him, while he helps her move, one hand snaking around to her ass as the other makes a tangled mess of her hair. He yanks her head back and licks up the column of throat; it feels so good she cries out and stills on his cock for a moment before she can regain her composure. Even letting her ride, take control, Javier fucks like he’s the god of it.

When she comes, she doesn’t expect it. It snaps through her like a firecracker, and she gasps, unable to make a sound let alone speak as she shudders against him and clamps down hard on his cock at the same time her teeth bite down on his shoulder. They’re both sweaty, slipping against one another, panting and heaving. He’s gasping for breath too, holding onto her as he keeps her grinding up and down, working her through her orgasm. Her nose pushes into his cheek, nipping at his jaw while she feels the tremors pass.

He isn’t finished. When he can tell he’s squeezed every drop of her orgasm out of her, he flips them around and yanks her down so her hips are hanging off the bed. Then, he begins to fuck her. Hard.

The sweetness is gone. She’s going numb with pleasure as he slides in and out of her slick cunt, her eyes rolling back into her head and small squeals leaving her mouth. He’s got an iron grip on her hips as he slams into her. “Mírame,” he grunts, reaching forward and grasping her jaw, tilting it so she has to look him in the eyes. “Muy bien, bebita. Dámelo. Dámelo, cielito. Shit, baby. So fucking good.”

He slides his hand down her throat, over her sternum, all the way down over her navel until he finds her clit and rubs slow circles over it. It’s so hard to keep looking at him, but she manages, letting her second orgasm crash down upon her at the same time he thrusts deep and grinds.

She almost slips off the bed when she finds her voice to cry out, gushing around him. His name leaves her mouth over and over again, her hands blindly grasping for something to hold onto. He lifts one leg onto the bed and drapes himself over her, still grinding deep enough that she sees stars, and he drops his head into the crook of her neck, teeth bared against her jaw when he spills his cum inside of her.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Fucking shit, honey.”

She giggles, high on three orgasms. “Yeah. Tell me about it.”

His eyes find hers in the dark. “I mean it,” he says, his voice a rasp. “I love you.”

She slides her fingers through his damp hair and wills herself not to cry. Everything is good here. Everything is right. They’ll figure it out together; they'll be okay. “I know.”

Javier’s on a mission. He doesn’t give a fuck who gets in his way; he’s fairly certain he’s willing to kill whoever tries.

For a moment, he’s even willing to kill Steve Murphy when he walks through the door to the evidence room and whispers, “Javi, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m breeding racehorses, Murphy. What does it look like?” He doesn’t look up from the file box, sifting through it like he’s digging for gold. In a way, he is. “Cabrón,” he adds under his breath.

“I mean”—Murphy stalks over and slams his hand down on the pile of manila folders—“these aren’t narco files. Meaning you aren’t authorised to look through ‘em.” He narrows his eyes at Javier. “She’s in trouble again, isn’t she.”

It isn’t a question, but Javier nods. He’s been fuming since she told him about the stranger in her café; he had come waltzing in only minutes after Javier left and plopped down right in his seat, meaning he’s been watching them. Watching her. She’s been flighty, distracted, but now Javier knows why. She’s being harassed, manipulated, and threatened by the man who claimed to love her. He’s not going to fucking let it slide.

She’s terrified for his life, having nightmares where she’s forced to watch him die. And she still wakes up in the morning and chooses to love him. Him. He’s caused her pain and put her in danger, but she still claims he’s worth it. He may be an asshole, but he’s a man who likes to take action. And he’s going to prove to the woman he loves that she can trust him to fix this.

“He thinks she's his,” says Javier, tucking his cigarette between his teeth when he finds two more folders and shoves them under his arm. “He doesn't love her, but that doesn't matter to bastards like him. He wants to control her.”

“And you do love her.” Murphy stares a hole through Javier’s head. “Goddamn, you do. Shit, Javi. I mean, good for you; I like the girl a lot, and God knows my wife does too, but if she’s saying this fucker’s threatening your life, maybe you should listen to her.”

“I am listening to her.” Javier finds the last file in the box on Nicolás Reyes and stuffs them all in his bag. “I don’t want to end up in the bottom of a river, Steve. I just want to get this guy away from her. Permanently.”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “What do you think all this shit’s gonna get you, huh? Besides fired?”

Javier shrugs the bag onto his shoulder. “I gotta know this guy’s deal. If he’s a real threat, I’ll have reason to bring him to the police and get him put away.”

Murphy grabs his collar and shakes him a little. “If you don’t get fucking killed first. Jesus, Javi, you have to be smart about this.”

“If I don’t do something about it, no one will,” says Javier. “The fact he’s got files locked up in here means there’s something I can use. We know men like this, Steve. They have so much power they can’t be touched. I’m done. I’m not letting him hurt her.”

Murphy looks down at the ground between them. “Javi…”

“I’m walking out of here with these files, man,” he says. “If you don’t let me, you’ll have bigger fucking problems than your job. And you can be damn well sure your wife will never forgive you.”

Murphy steps aside and shakes his head. “What files?”

“I think—fuck, baby—you should move in. For—Christ—for good.”

She cries out when he grinds deep inside her, and he takes her wrists in one hand, pushing them above her head. Her hair is splayed over the pillows, a vision of a goddess as he pushes into her again and again, her glistening skin golden with morning sunlight. She pants, chest heaving. “Only if… ohhhh, Javi… if you’ll have me.”

“I’m taking you right now,” he says, hips stuttering when she laughs breathlessly and clenches around his cock.

“Javi,” she whines, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts, her ankles locked around his waist. “Te amo, te amo, te amo. Eres tan bueno conmigo (You’re so good to me).”

He watches her ramble, the way she does when she’s close, transfixed by the freefall of praise and love from her mouth even as his own mind goes fuzzy with lust, engulfed by the feel of her body. Just because he can, he lowers himself on top of her, deepening the angle, and kisses her, licking into her mouth. “Fucking”—he thrusts hard and deep, enjoying the way her legs tighten around him to hold on—“love you. Mi amor. Mi cielo.”

Her eyes meet his and he lets go of her wrists so she can grab a handful of his hair as she reaches her orgasm. She moans, long and low, eyes rolling back in her head and pussy choking the fucking life out of his dick. He drops his head and bites down on her shoulder, keeping his thrusts shallow as he comes, spilling inside her in pulses. She sighs, content, letting him collapse on top of her and stroking his damp hair. Before her, he’d roll over and smoke when he was done. Before her, he didn’t know the peace of the afterglow.

“I meant it,” he mumbles, tracing her nipple with his finger. “Move in with me, baby.”

“Are you sure?” she says softly. “I know you like your space, Javi. Do you really want me in your bed every night?”

“You’re already in my bed every night,” he points out. “I feel better knowing you’re safe with me here. I sleep better.” He tilts his head upward and gently bites her jaw. “Don’t want space.”

She hums, tapping his cheek with a finger like she’s pondering it. “Do I get the bathroom first in the morning?”

“You will have”—he kisses her cheek—“everything you want. No es fácil vivir conmigo, cielito, pero seré bueno contigo (I’m not easy to live with, but I’ll be good to you).”

“I already have everything I want,” she says earnestly. “But I need you to make a promise with me.”

He nods eagerly, ready to do anything she says even as he teases her nipple with his teeth. “Hmm.”

“We stay awake,” she says. “If you're going to be home late, I’m going to stay awake for you, and we’ll eat together. If I’m late, stay awake until I’m home.”

He thinks it's more than fair. He doesn't want to get like those couples who grumble at one another for being late, missing dinner, and go to sleep alone and angry. Like this, they'll go to bed together no matter what, no feelings hurt. She understands his life, the way it gets to him sometimes, how hopeless it can be.

He's not going to fuck this up. He loves her. He loves every single cell and atom and heartbeat that makes her. He’s going to be good to her.

“Yeah, baby,” he says. “I promise.”

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#kiwisbell's fics #las mañanas #javier peña fic #javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction

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irisbleufic · 28 days

Note

YOUR 3 CATS ARE SO CUTE OMG! How old are they/what are their stories?

Like many young-ish queer married couples, @one-eyed-bossman and I entered the fast track to pet parenthood in 2020. I was still recovering from extensive cancer treatment at the time, which is part of what makes our first kitty especially meaningful to me.

ZEL

Zel is my darling girl. She’s now 5 years old, and when we adopted her in June of 2020, she was already 1 year old. After being rescued on the streets at a few weeks old with her two personable siblings, she spent an entire year at this lady’s house with like 20 other cats at any given time. She was feral and unapproachable, but somehow I was able to get close enough to her at the rescue to pick her up and put her in the carrier. She nailed me with her claws in the process, but that’s the only time she’s ever hurt me or anyone else. The day after we got her home, I stuck my hand behind the bed in her safe room, and she set her little paw square in my palm and left it there for about a minute. I spent a couple of months crawling halfway under the bed to pet her while she was curled in her bed, and eventually I could get her to follow me around the house by asking, “Do you want to go for a walk?” She barely left my side after that. I spent a lot of 2020 sick in bed; she always curled up snugly between my ankles or my knees. She’s now the smartest cat I’ve ever met. Her language recognition shocks me even after 4 years of having her as a silly little shadow who likes to play fetch with her pink-eared mouse toy. She’s stuck to my side any time I’m on the sofa, and about a month ago she climbed fully in my lap for the first time. Her meow is barely a whisper when she does use it (only to talk to me and occasionally to the TV), but the trills, squeaks, and yowls she makes to talk to her toys are hilarious. She doesn’t even talk to her siblings like that. Unlike many white cats, she is not deaf.

NICKY

We got Nicky a year after we got Zel; he was about 8 weeks old when we brought him home in June of 2021. We met a kind lady who periodically bred her lovely Bengal queens, and Nicky was somehow a “non-show-quality” (?!!) discount kitten. He’s sweet, goofy, vocal, afraid of everything/everyone that’s outside the house, and occasionally very naughty. We hoped he would bring Zel the rest of the way out of her shell, and it worked. He just adored her from day one. She took a few months to warm up to him, but they bonded pretty fast. Now, at 3 years old, he’s a big boy—17 pounds. He likes to stand/sit on laps more than he likes to lie down in them, although he will lie down in mine a couple times a week. He brings me granola bars from the cupboard and loves trash more than he likes his toys:

EMBER

We hadn’t planned on a third cat, but the universe insisted. I mean that quite literally. On 31 July 2022, my mother died at my sister’s place a couple of states away. The morning she died, me and my four siblings took a walk around my sister’s neighborhood. We split up and went slightly different ways; my sister and her husband called me as I was getting back to the house to say that a tiny, tiny crying kitten had run out of the bushes toward them. My sister didn’t know what to do; one of my nieces is very allergic, and we were all burnt-out from dealing with Mom’s passing and the funeral home taking away her body. I told her to bring the kitten back to the house, because I was too grief-stricken to let another thing die that day. Out on the porch, I fed her milk from one of the droppers we were using to give my mom morphine, all the while making desperate phone calls to local rescues. After about 3 hours, a local vet with specialty in caring for bottle baby kittens came to pick her up. She told me that, because I didn’t live too far away in the grand scheme of things, she could foster the baby until she was old enough for me to arrange transport to my home state. There was no way I could walk away from that little baby, so I got regular photos, videos, and updates from her foster mom until I could arrange transport about 5 months later (she came home in December of 2022). She has grown up to be the feistiest tortie I’ve ever met. She has far longer hair than I ever could have guessed, and even now that she’s 1.5 years old, she has very short legs (longer end of munchkin, our vet says!) and an overall smaller stature than her siblings. She fucking adores Nicky, and he has never once played too rough for her given the size disparity. He lets her chase him, jump on him, bap him into play fights, etc. She will cry and cry at night if we don’t pick her up and carry her around before we close the bedroom doors (they get to sleep in the bedroom sometimes, but not always; Nicky likes to knock picture frames off the wall in there, and I’m not about exposing them to broken glass).

#nicky and zel #zel and nicky #ember #cats of tumblr #rescue cats

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rainylana · 2 years

Text

“I just wanted to be cool like you.”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: wanting to impress eddie, you try to start smoking. he doesn’t care much for it.

this was requested by @snoopysavv thank you for requesting! i hope you like it<3

warnings: language, smoking, reader and eddie are friends but both have cute crushes on each other:) first kiss ( just a peck on the lips lol) fluff to the max, insecurities, innocent reader, mentions of parental death. do i think eddie would give a shit if u smoked? no, lol, but for the sake of this fic, he does;)

taglist!

@ariesl0ves3ddiemuns0n @eddiemunnson @eddiemania @imdoingbetternow @imabadarsebard @fionnthebandersnacc @antigoneidk @averysblog @ahzysauce @imangy @your-starless-eyes-remain @cosmic-lavender @blowing-mikey @hearts4laura @livasaurasrex @xx-hospitalforsouls-xx-blog @chaos-incorp @bellasfavoritesweatpants @supercalifragilisticprincess @kellysimagines @ches-86 @flowers-and-tsukki @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @no0neknowsm3 @tripthlightfantastic @mic429 @avobabe87 @nothisispatric @lexthemess21 @noturmom15 @justaproudslytherpuff @genuine-possum @delilahtaylorsverson @getbillzoned @phantomxoxo @kaqua @ultimate-sdmn-trash @aa-li-yxh @fvcking-gxddess @underthebatcape @lillianofliterature @fentyreligion @kneelforloki @actuallybarb @rovckwells @itiscj @heeyitsg @randomstory56 @cheri86

You didn’t belong in their group. You were a complete and polar opposite of them all. You didn’t like the things they liked, and they didn’t like the things you did. You didn’t listen to the same music or like the same movies. Yet, there you were, tucked between Gareth and Eddie on the sofa in Jeff’s basement, Eddie’s legs in your lap and cigarette smoke blowing up your nose.

The room was dark, your faces illuminating with the glow of the tv screen in front of you. You were watching The exorcist, and absolutely terrified. You hated horror movies, hated them all, but they loved them, and talked you into watching one. They just happened to pick the scariest one on the market, and you were not enjoying yourself. You hugged the bowl of popcorn close to your chest, pressing your back into the couch so you could disappear and not have to watch it anymore.

Your jaw hung open when little Regan’s head began twisting around, and when her mother was slammed across the room, you jumped ten feet high, screaming and sending popcorn all over the floor.

“Jesus!” Eddie screech, his legs bouncing up as he jumped from your scream. Everyone began cackling, and Gareth reached to pause the tv with the remote. “Not enjoying the movie, kiddo?” Eddie smirked, taking his legs off your lap as he turned to you.

“No!” You panted, covering your face with your hands. “It’s awful! Why would you make me watch this!”

“Hey, we didn’t make you do anything!” Gareth laughed, poking at your hands. “You said you wanted to watch it!”

“Well, I changed my mind now.” You huffed, pulling down your hands to reveal your flushed face.

“Aww,” Eddie pouted his lip, craning his neck to look at your terrified face. “She’s embarrassed, boys. What do you say, babe, should we put on Splash again?”

“Oh, god, no not that shit!” Dustin cringed, picking up the pieces of popcorn all over the floor. “Too romantic for me.”

“Me too!” Jeff chimed in, looking through his movie collection. “I say we watch The thing! That one isn’t too scary for her! Y/n, what do you think?”

“I don’t want scary at all.” You muttered, leaning back against the couch. Eddie smirked and patted your leg.

You came to Hawkins High your freshman year of Highschool. After your dad had died of cancer, your mom wanted a fresh start, thus brought you to Hawkins. You were terrible at making friends, stumbling over your own two feet on your first day trying to find all of your classes. You stuck out like a sore thumb, and Eddie had found you immediately that first day in the cafeteria.

“Boys, I think I found another lost sheepy.”

You did not look the part at all, and hellfire wondered why Eddie had taken such an interest in you, why he thought you belonged with them. While they wore ripped jeans and leather jackets, jewelry and tattoos with cigarettes hanging from their mouths, you wore your pink, plaid skirts and white button ups, hair pulled back and tied with a silk bow.

You were an outcast just as much as they were, and really not as different as you believed yourself to be. Eddie had invited you to sit with his table that day. They stared at you like fresh meat, because they all thought you were extremely pretty, and every one of them were crushing hard on you. Eddie was captivated with you, in a sense. You seemed so…so shy, so scared. It was cute. Fuck, Eddie thought you were cute. He’d take that to the grave.

That was two years ago, and you were lucky enough to call the boys your best friends, especially Eddie. You didn’t play dnd, but you always watched them play, and you’d bring them snacks and bake cookies for them, which they’d thank you by giving you sloppy, mouthful pecks on your cheek in gratitude.

You did feel guilty sometimes though, because you didn’t want to feel like a tag along. You knew they loved you, but you were only human, and you had insecurities. Especially when it came to Eddie. He was so…cool. Frankly, he was badass. You wanted to be like him. He held a special place in your heart. He was your best friend. He’d helped you through a lot when it came to grieve. On particular hard days when your mom couldn’t get out of bed, he’d show up at your window, frowning at your tear streamed face and climbing through to hug you.

You were too young to know what love was, too young to know that you were falling in love with him, but you had. You truly loved Eddie.

Two hours later, Splash had ended, Dustin applauding loudly with a wide smile.

“I love that movie!”

“Bullshit.” Eddie scoffed, adjusting his eyes to the light that Jeff had switched on. “You said it was too romantic for you, Henderson. Or did seeing Daryl Hannah’s ass change your mind for you?”

“Fuck off.” He pulled his hat over his face, laying back down on his pallet on the floor.

“You awake down there, sweetheart?” Eddie smiled coyly down at you, your head laying on his shoulder, socked feet against Gareth’s ankles.

“Mhm.” You mumbled tiredly, rubbing your sleepy eyes. “I love that movie. It’s so sweet.”

They all quietly chuckled at you. “Yeah.” Eddie nodded. “I suppose it is. Come on, why don’t I take you home?” He patted your hand and groaned as he stood, dragging you up by your bicep.

“Sorry, about the movie guys.” You frowned, pushing your hair away from your face as you bit back a yawn. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“Don’t worry about it, y/n,” Jeff waved you off. “Make me some more of those pretzel brownies and we’ll call it square.”

The room hummed with laughter and you nodded, saying goodbye to everyone as Eddie patiently waited for you by the door. “You know you don’t have to bring us stuff every time we hang out, right?” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, the cold night air smacking you in the face as you left Jeff’s house.

“I know, but I feel bad.” You shrugged your shoulder, walking to his van and leaning against his side. “You guys baby me.”

He punched out a loud laugh. “You ever think that maybe you just make us soft?” He nudged your side, smiling when he got a tiny squeal from you.

“Yeah, right.” You blushed. “The Hellfire crew going soft for little ole’ me? I highly doubt it.”

Doubt it, if you must, but it was true.

And there, again, sunk in doubt, insecurities about how different you were them, from him. You were not the kind of girl that he spent his time with, it didn’t make any sense. There were often times you had thought of doing something drastic just so you could fit in more with them. While there personalities and energies screamed metal and alcoholism, yours singed ballerinas and finger sandwiches.

You had tried talking yourself into getting a tattoo, but nearly fainted on the drive over. You thought about piercing your nose, but got sick at the idea. Hell, you were a pussy.

The click of Eddie’s lighter snapped you from your thoughts, and his van door was now in front of your face, creaking loudly as he opened it for you. You watched as he pulled out another cigarette, tucking it between the lips you always daydreamed about, and you couldn’t help but wonder. “You need a camera for that.”

You narrowed your eyes, blinking hazily up at him. “Huh?”

“To take the picture.” He leaned back on his heel, tapping his fingers against the van door. “You know, so it’ll last longer? You need a camera, sweetheart.”

You burned red and scoffed, shaking your head. “Oh, sorry. Was just thinkin’.”

“Bout?”

You felt idiotic asking. Humiliated, even, but you didn’t know what else to do. You hated the idea of inhaling the smoke, but Eddie looked so cool when he did it. “Can I try?” You pointed to the stick between his lips.

He narrowed his eyes. “The cigarette?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, shifting your weight. “I just, I don’t know…I wanna try it. See what it’s like.”

His brows shifted into amusement, and he dropped his arm from the van. “Just last week you were saying I was starting to develop smokers cough? Now you wanna try?”

“Well, you do!” You pursed your lips. “Jesus, you sound like my grandpa’s chainsaw!”

He rolled his eyes and waved you off. “So then why do you have such an interest now? This isn’t some reverse psychology to get me to quit, is it?”

“No, no,” You huffed, growing more embarrassed by the second. “I just wanna try! Please!”

He gave you a weird look, but forced a chuckle as he looked down. “You’re the boss.” He bent his wrist to offer it to you, and you straightened your height as you took it, examining the little glow torch between your fingers.

Here goes nothing.

“Never mind.”

Before you could even place it between your lips, Eddie had snatched it from your fingers, a cringed look in his face. “Hey!” You whined. “What was that for?”

“I don’t like it.” He said distastefully. “Looks weird.”

You scoffed, raising a brow accusingly. “I thought you said I was the boss?”

“Changed my mind.” He gave you an innocent look, placing his hands on your shoulders to turn you around and push you toward the van.

“Eddie,” You groaned, hopping in, waiting till he climbed in the other side. “Why won’t you let me try it!”

He sighed in annoyance, disregarding his seatbelt. “Cuz it’s not…I don’t know, you. You don’t smoke, y/n.” He gave you a pointed look.

“I just wanted to try you idiot!” You huffed, crossing your arms.

He smirked at your defeat, turning on the ignition. “Nah.”

•

“Can I please get a pack of Marbolo lights?” You tapped your fingers anxiously against the gas station counter, holding a ten dollar bill between your fingers.

“ID?” Was all the gruff man said.

You complied and pulled out your identification, biting your lip in anticipation. You hadn’t let this whole smoking thing go. It was all you could think about for the past two days, watching closely as Eddie, or anyone in hellfire for that matter, smoked their carton loads of cigarettes. You knew you weren’t going to like it. The smell alone bothered you sometimes, but you’d grown mostly used to it now.

Still, you wanted Eddie to see you, once you’d gotten the hang of it, of course. Your plan was to smoke one a night, making it easy on yourself so you could go slow, then surprise him. Maybe it was embarrassing, but it excited you. You wanted to be cool like him.

Eddie had to work late tonight, so you knew there wasn’t a chance of him coming over, so that gave you the opportunity to practice. All day at school you’d nearly been smiling the whole time, excited to make him proud. You didn’t get why he freaked out and wouldn’t let you.

Later that night, after you’d finished all your homework and visited with your mom, you’d changed into your silk pajamas and closed your door for the night. You pulled your hair back into a clip, some pieces falling out of place, and you pulled out the pack of cig’s you kept hidden in your drawer. Your mom wouldn’t necessarily be mad at you, but you didn’t want her to worry over you. She had too much on her plate these days.

You read the back of the box carefully, growing nervous at all the warnings and instruction labels. You opened the tab and smelled them, scrunching your nose at the familiar scent. It reminded you of Eddie. You knew this was pathetic, when you really thought about it, but you were so boring compared to them! They played in a band, for shits sake! Made their own club! All you did was golf with your grandpa on Sundays. You had invited Eddie to go with you once, but his response had been nothing enthusiastic.

“Not to be rude, y/n, but I’d rather watch paint dry.”

You searched through your dresser to find your candle lighter, getting situated at the end of the bed. You placed the pack down beside you, holding up a cigarette in front of you. You gulped, hoping you wouldn’t be sick all night. You lit the tip and watched it glow, setting down the lighter. “Shit.” You cursed. “Come on, you big baby, just do it!” Not sponsored by Nike.

You shakily placed it between your lips, trying to recall how you saw Eddie do it just hours before. Inhale.

Absolutely panic shot through your body, and you jumped up, clawing at your chest as you coughed violent strings and spews, smoke blowing from your mouth and burning your chest. “Oh, god!” You cried through coughs.

You braced yourself against your dresser and your chest heaved, still coughing, your body recoiling at the foreign substance you weren’t used to. “Jesus Christ!” You strained. How could they do that all day? “That’s disgusting!”

“Y/n?”

You jumped at the taps on your window, flinging your arms up and whirling around. Eddie was outside your window, kneeling on the roof with a smile plastered on his beautiful face.

Damn.

Your eyes widened, hurriedly putting the cigarette out against the dresser and waving the smoke away. “Shit!” You cursed, your actions making his eyes widen.

“Holy fuck, y/n, are you smoking!” He exclaimed, voice muffled through the class.

“No!” You grabbed your perfume bottle and began spraying chaotically, ignoring his shocked expression beyond the window pane.

“Let me in!” He knocked on the glass. “Jesus Christ-”

You grew hot and red in embarrassment of being caught, and you swallowed roughly as you turned and drifted swiftly to the window, unlocking it and lifting it up. You backed away to give him room, curses falling from his lips as he struggled to get his long legs in. He huffed when he got in, adjusting his jean jacket as he cringed at the overpowering scent of your perfume and cigarette smoke.

He pursed his lips at your red eyes and pale, sickly face. You hadn’t liked it. “Well, I hope you learned your lesson.” He scoffed. “The hell you smokin’ for?”

You looked down shamefully and crossed your arms. “I don’t know!” You exclaimed, face burning red. “I just- I just wanted to try it! I don’t get why it’s such a big deal!”

“It’s not.” He shook his head. “But it is when the person behind the cigarette is you. You don’t smoke, y/n.”

“I know, I know!” You started to get upset, pushing yourself away to sit on the bed, turning your back to him. “I don’t smoke! I don’t play in a band or play dungeon and dragons! I don’t have tattoos or- or piercings! You don’t have to keep reminding me all the damn time.” Your voice had cracked and you turned away from him, staring at the floor. How you wished a meteor would come crashing through your roof right now.

“Hey, hey, what’s this about?” He followed you, eyes squinted in a loss as he rounded the bed to see your face.

“Nothing.” You dismissed, turning your neck so he wouldn’t have to see your watering eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Well, it’s obviously not nothing, y/n.” He stood there, face molded into a look of confusion and concern. “You’re crying.” He deadpanned. “What’s going on?”

“No, I’m not.” You mumbled, turning your neck further away.

He rolled his eyes at your dramatics, crossing his arms. “You turn that pretty neck any further and you’re gonna end up like that little girl on the exorcist.”

You cringed at the memory and groaned, getting a small chuckle from him.

“Come onnnnnn, kiddo, tell ole’ Eddie what’s got you all worked up.” He plopped down beside you, smacking your knee as he tossed an arm around your shoulder. “Is it shark week?” He snickered when you whined, burying your face in your hands, elbows resting on your knees.

“I thought you had to work.” You muffled between your fingers.

“Yeah, well, I got off early,” He tapped your shoulder with his fingers, drumming them like he was at band practice. “And I thought I’d check in on my favorite girl. Doesn’t seem like she wants to see me though.” You could hear the playfulness in his voice, and it calmed your nerves.

“Come on, y/n, talk to me.” He nudged your knee with his. “What’s gotten into you, huh?”

You blinked away your embarrassed tears, sighing shamefully into your hands. “I just…I just wanted to be cool. I’m such an idiot.”

“Cool?”

You cringed deeply, setting up and briefly glancing at him. “I’m just…I’m just so different compared to you and the boys. It’s embarrassing. I just thought that maybe I could..” You fiddled with your fingers, voice meek and small.

“Yeah?” He tilted his chin down to see you.

“I just wanted to be cool like you.” You looked up at him through your lashes. “And I- I just made a damn fool of myself.”

Eddie stared at you oddly, examining your features to try and scan your sincerity. This was completely out of your character. He wasn’t sure what to do. “Y/n…I don’t know where this is coming from. You know you’ve got all of us wrapped around your finger, right? Why you feeling so down about yourself for?” He chuckled breathily, trying to be gentle with you.

“Cuz’ your my best friend.” You said bashfully, barely being able to keep eye contact with him. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed around me. I just wanna be more like you.”

“Hey,” He frowned, his hand going to your thigh, the other still around your neck. “I’m not embarrassed to be around you, y/n. You don’t have to feel like you’ve gotta change yourself to suit me, kiddo. I love you just the way you are. You’re perfect.”

You blushed at his words, blinking slowly as you sniffled. “Really?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, bringing up his thumb to catch a single tear. “Besides, don’t want you getting smokers cough, now do we?”

A smile pulled at your lips, and he smiled with you as he held the back of your neck. “There she is.”

You two sat in a comfortable silence, relaxing in each other’s presence as you calmed down. You tucked a hair behind your ear, a permanent blush on your cheeks. His hands had not left your body.

You could see him barely smirking out of the corner of your eye, and before you could excuse yourself to relieve your nervous bladder, his fingers cupped your chin and turned you toward him. Your eyes met his brown once, full of mischievousness and care.

Then, he giggled, breaking out into a full smile, pulling you close to place a loud, noisy and playful kiss against your lips. Your eyes widened and you choked on your breath, lips parting when he broke apart. “What- was that f-for?” You stuttered.

He let go of your chin, licking his lips to remember the taste of your cherry chapstick. “Just tryin’ to prove you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie the freak munson #eddie the banished #eddie #eddie fluff to the max

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weebsinstash · 11 months

Note

Alright bestie I’m on that shit again

So yandere Superman, right? Like obviously your fucked. The only other yandere in existence that might just be able to keep you from him is Batman, but even then he’d probably sooner work together just to ensure your safety- but that’s a prompt for another day.

Back to yan Superman, imagine you’re his darling and he is “keeping you safe”. But one day, you get snatched up by some organization that wants to use you as leverage or some shit, but you are just sobbing in relief at maybe being free- only to have Superman show up and do some not so super things to everyone who “stole” you

There are just so many casually horrifying things about Superman that people don't realize until you start like digging into his lore. "Oh he's super strong and a super fast flyer" actually he can do basically anything at those super speeds to the point he can literally even PROCESS THOUGHTS at near light-speed which means he has Absolutely Terrifying reaction times and can make plans and schemes on a dime, which, you know, can be even better utilized by him being intelligent. He has natural invulnerability so if you throw a punch at him too hard you could literally shatter the bones in your hand and he can't even control that, like you could literally hurt yourself with him on accident! He can see across INSANE DISTANCES and his x-ray vision doesn't have like a set range so he could do anything from, peep inside buildings to spy on you, to looking under your clothing for any bruises or injuries or even self harm marks, to peeking behind your hero disguise to learn your true identity, to seeing if there's anything inside your stomach and seeing if you're eating properly. Like jesus christ he literally found out Lois was pregnant from waking up one morning and suddenly hearing the heartbeat of the FETUS, there's literally nothing from him pulling that stereotypical "I know you're nervous or lying or afraid because I can literally hear your heartbeat increase" scary bullshit

And let's talk about Lois for a sec because my god her death was literally what kicked off the Injustice timeline? And there are other forms of Superman media where she just straight up dies naturally of cancer! Sure we could take the easy way and say "in this au Lois never existed or was just Clark's friend and he loved YOU" (which is my preferred default tbh bc, no competition for Reader lol) but I mean if you're going for that angst, that real whump, a yandere Clark Kent that just lost his wife/unborn child to either the Injustice incident or cancer, now overcome with grief? And in those cancer timelines they usually already have a son, Jonathan, and sometimes Jordan, and here's Clark thinking, well, his boy needs a mother, and he's got these weird feelings for you, and lil Jonny clearly has affection for you, maybe bring a bit of a platonic yan himself who sees you as either a big sister or even a secondary mom, so... be his wife maybe?

Like my god if Reader somehow helped him through the grief of losing Lois and managed to avoid "fully activating" Superman's anime villain arc, like he's going full fascist in the Injustice 2 Bad Ending, then some shit DEFINITELY goes down when Reader gets taken away. It just reactivates all his trauma. No! He can't lose anyone else! Jonathan can't lose anyone else! You're not just someone he loves, you're his FRIEND!

You're just huddled in whatever cell you've been kept in with your black eyes and bruises and knuckles bloodied from trying to fight back when you hear Clark's voice and you look up with excitement that just falls immediately off your face because holy shit did he just unlock that thumbprint scanner with a severed arm, and suddenly you're realizing there are other shades of red on his costume and dripping from his fingers

I can only imagine like, ngl I considered a sequel to my fic Doubt where Reader escapes the manor and runs into Supernan as the only other person who can protect you, so here we would have the inverse: you're the only one who knows about Clark's increasing instability and, while you still have your own freedom and autonomy, try to speak to Bruce about it, and now you have Batman Vs Superman: Competing For Your Heart Edition. I can only imagine what sort of unhinged reactions there would be if you think you've got Batman alone and you're beginning to cry all "Bruce I'm really worried about Clark, he isn't acting like himself, there's something wrong with him" and. Clark is like literally using his x-ray vision to read lips through the walls if he can't use his super hearing to outright eavesdrop.

Of course as you suggested, I'm always a slut for ideas with"oh shit I ran to this guy to help me and he's ALSO crazy, now they're teaming up and I'm in some weird shared/poly situation with TWO nutjobs". Lmao you go to Bruce concerned about Kal and Bruce goes to confront him and Clark just drops "did you know Y/N has been hiding self harm cuts under their hero suit also wow they smoke HELLA weed and im worried about their lungs and all the stuff they do when they're alone that no one else knows about 🥺" and suddenly here's Bruce " thanks i hate this actually :)" and there's a scheme concted to spy on you or move you elsewhere.

I've even thought of "Reader oh nooOoooOo, that, giant monster or villain attack or whatever also coincidentally destroyed your shitty little apartment complex? You mean Clark 'accidently' got sent flying into your building or smacked some giant creature into it and now you don't have a place to live? And you're broke too? Oh no 🥺 Well, BATMAN has this nice big house with lots of room in for you to stay toooootally 'temporarily', we PROMISE uwu"

Batman is the one who can put a tracking chip injected into your skin or even disguised as a filling in one of your teeth, and Superman is the one who can zoom off to rescue you/retrieve you "faster than a speeding bullet". I think one of the only people who could bring them down together at that point would be like. Fucking DARKSEID and, Jesus no, you definitely don't want HIM treating you as a pet 😭 the evil Batman that was brainwashed by him in the Apokolips War movie was scary enough (and scary HOT, lmao, let him keep me as some sort of prize and the only luxury Darkseid will allow him as a reward for his obedience. Lord Batman goes from having a meeting talking about like enslaving people to returning to his quarters and railing tf outta you because he's still holding onto some slim vestiges of humanity where he cares about you but also using you as his personal anti stress fuck toy)

#yandere superman #yandere batman #yandere dc #i got a draft whee damian and jon like you and introduce you to their fathers #and suddenly stalking you becomes a family affair #the boys walk you home and jon lies about having to pee so damian can plant bugs while youre distracted #the boys going back to their fathers and telling them all of your personal business #'yeah dad when she was at work i used my xray vision and saw her creepy manager grope her in the walk in'#suddenly your small little privately owned cafe was just bought out by wayne enterprises and your boss is fired or goes missing #maybe Bruce gets you a job st Wayne tech bc hes been following you as batman and he doesnt like you working third ahift #lmao heres hoping i actually finish it wven though im not quite sure where to go w it yet #but like its literally over 8 pages at least so. obviously some sort of creative juices are flowing #yandere stuff #sinprompts #at this point i cant promise shit bc my emotions and motivation are waaaaaacky

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dancingtotuyo · 30 days

Text

All Farms…

Javier Peña

Summary: Javier has to decide what to do with the ranch

Warnings/Tags: grief, loss, hurt (no comfort?), ranch/farm used interchangeably here.

Notes: I started this on Christmas after walking my grandparents farm which happens to be the same farm I lived on for the first 7 years of my life. My grandparents are getting older which has sparked a lot of conversation with what will happen to the farm when they're gone. Fast forward to now, I'm currently processing a lot of feelings this Easter weekend. I lost my step dad last year. He was a farmer too. After his cancer diagnosis, all of us kids (there are ALOT of us) came home for Easter. It was the last time I saw him look like himself and the last time we were all together before he died. In my processing, I started working on this piece again. It's one of those things I need to put out into the world for me. I hope for anyone else going through something similar, it brings you comfort or makes you feel not quite so alone.

Peep the cow picture. I took that one myself at Christmas :)

Words: 966

Author Master List

All farms have a graveyard. One of lost memories and stories. Typically along a ridge or tree line, piled-up equipment that was never sold or broken beyond repair sits in overgrown piles and sunken earth. The old family car. The beat-up sports car or pickup truck each son or sometimes daughter inevitably thought they could fix only to spend hundreds of fruitless hours with one glory ride before it went haywire. Scrap metal torn from barn roofs pile up. Every tire imaginable is half buried in the earth. No farmer dares to clean out the graveyard. The moment you do, you’ll find use or need for the items thrown out.

The Peńa’s graveyard sits between scattered trees at the bottom of the hill. Javier rarely makes his way to that side of the farm. They don’t use that space for cattle since his dad downsized the herd. He pretends there’s no reason for it, but it’s more than just broken down cars and scrap piles to Javier. It’s a ghost town of memories.

There’s his mom’s ‘62 Ford. The one she drove his whole childhood. The vehicle that took them across town, to Sunday services, and hosted their many road trips. It’s where his Mom feels most tangible, her soft voice playing in his head singing to the radio.

His first truck. The one he’d spent months fixing up, he kissed Sally Jones on a Saturday night and done much more with Vanessa Reyes. He’s proposed to Lorraine in that truck, driven past the church in it too.

Chucho’s first American Harvester sits further back. His dad is so proud of that machine… or he was.

The ache grows in Javier’s chest as he stands at the edge of the graveyard. He begged Chucho for years to clean this up. His dad always waved him off, stating that he would get to it someday. Except, Chucho didn’t make it to someday, and now it is Javier’s responsibility.

His fingers twitch, desperate for the feel of a cigarette between them. Nicorette gum sits in his breast pocket instead. He’s working to quit again, picking the worst damn time to do it, but that’s life.

He should probably bring the tractor down to pull everything out. It’s overwhelming with no good place to start. Digging around down there will only dig up the memories. Javier can’t deal with the memories right now, so he leaves the project for another day. He only needs to clean it up if he decides to sell the ranch.

The house is quiet when he walks through the door. Javier is used to the subtle sounds of life- the coffee pot going, the tv running on low, Chucho’s boots on the linoleum, but it never comes. It won’t ever come again.

Javier kicks off his boots, lining them right next to his dad’s. He hasn’t moved them. He’s not sure he will.

He heads for the back of the house toward his room but stops at his Dad’s door. It’s shut tight as he places a hand on the wood. Javier hasn’t gone in there since picking out clothes. It’s a strange thing to pick out clothes for a dead man. How does one pick out what someone will wear for the rest of eternity?

His hand lands on the knob, and it gives way with a squeak. The same squeak that used to echo down the hall, waking Javier up before the sun to let him know it was time for chores. Javier is flooded with the comforting scent of his father. It envelopes him, pulling tears into his eyes immediately. The bed is fixed just as Chucho had left it before he went out and started the chores just as he always did. Except that day, almost a month ago now, Chucho Peña didn’t return to the house.

He collapsed in the field. He was already gone when Javier found him. He died alone and that hurt almost as much as the fact that he was gone.

A thin layer of dust covers the surfaces in the room. He should clean it, but would it lose its smell then? In here, Javier feels surrounded by his father. The closest he can get to him. His room, the one he shared with Javier’s mother, is perfectly preserved.

Javier dares to ease onto the bed and look at the world from Chucho’s perspective every day as he woke up. On the dresser, there’s a photo of his parents when they first started dating, and one from Javier’s high school graduation. On the bedside table, there’s a book with a bookmark halfway through, a picture from his parent’s wedding day, and another of Chucho on the tractor with Javier in his lap. He couldn’t have been older than two at the time. Javier traces it with his finger, wishes he could remember that moment, wishes he could go back in time and relive it all, even the bad days, and treasure it all, ask his dad more questions, called him more often.

Javier lays down on his parents' bed. Chucho’s scent is thicker here with Javier’s head on his pillow. Big, hot tears fall from the corners of his eyes dampening the pillow. He rests his hands over his chest, letting his eyes close. Javier can hear his voice now, his laughter, catches a hint of his mother’s as well. It’s Javier’s job to carry on their legacy.

All farms have a graveyard. One of lost memories and stories. No farmer dares to clean out the graveyard. When a tractor kicks the dust or that farm use pickup can only be stripped for parts, Javier follows in his father’s footsteps. He lays them to rest between scattered trees at the bottom of the hill.

#javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #narcos #javier peña narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #ppcu fanfiction #pedro stories #pedrostories

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elcpsstuff · 10 months

Text

The Summer I Remembered You (C.F)

Summary: Y/N couldn’t wait until the days she could return to cousins, but this summer was different. After boundaries were broken and mistakes were made from the summer before, all she wants to do is forget. But when you live with the mistakes you made, how can you not remember?

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, sexual content, swearing, angst and fluff, cancer mentions and treatment.

A/N: First story! Had the inspiration due to tsitp season 2 coming out. Also intense love square warnings and slow burn so be prepared, please enjoy!

—

(THIS STORY UNDER REVISION)

Note to readers: Hi guys! first of all, thank you so much for the love on this story. This was my first ever time writing a full story like this and the fact that you guys love it so much makes me happy inside you have no idea :0 However, after months i’m not very happy with how this story ended up. I had a very different plan when beginning it and the story kind of went off the rails. So, while I appreciate the love on the story it will be re written in some aspects! Some things will stay the same but I feel like this is for the best to fix the plot lines. Thank you! <3

—

I felt the sun burn my face through the window, and I was immediately awoken. I looked around to see Belly and Steven jamming out in the front. I looked to the left of me to see an angry Laurel shaking her head at their screams.

“Ah! Y/N! You’re awake?” Steven says, and I roll my eyes at him. Peering back out the window, I saw the cousins beach sign pop up, and a smile appeared across my face.

“You all know what I said earlier, right?” Laurel looks at all of us, “You need to be better this summer. Last summer was.. it was..” she trailed off and I felt the heat of the car pool into me and suddenly I was rolling the window down.

Summer. It was my favorite thing in the whole world, but, things were different now. I was different.

I’ve been coming to cousins since I was a baby, but it wasn’t always with the Conklin’s. My mom and Susannah grew up together, and often not she would come to cousins with her a lot. Then in college, they met Laurel who eventually married my mom’s brother, John.

I lived right down the street from my cousins during the school year, and then with them in the summer. Steven always used to joke claiming we were the “coolest cousins in cousins.”

Weird right?

Everything was normal until it wasn’t. Until my parents were driving home through a bad storm and there car swerved right into a drunk drivers.

sweetie, it’s your parents.

they got in a car crash, and are in critical condition.

they didn’t make it—

They died this September, and that’s when I moved right next door in with my cousins. Nothing really changed, we were always inseparable but now we just lived together.

Anyways, i told myself now was the time to move on. I grieved all this year and did the bare minimum to pass sophomore year with Belly, but I survived.

“I’m gonna be sick if I sit in this car with Steven driving any longer.” Belly looked back at me with a wink. Our favorite hobby was annoying Steven.

“Better then you, you’ll be dead within a week once you get your license—” He paused, “Actually, make that a day—”

Laurel smacked the back of Stevens seat, “Don’t make jokes about that.” Steven rolled his eyes until he realized what Laurel meant and his face went red.

I smirked, “Yeah Steven, are you wishing death on me?”

“i think death is afraid you, Y/N.”

—

As Steven honked his horn, I felt the cousins breeze pass my face. There was nothing more beautiful than this. Susannah came running out, with Jeremiah not too far behind.

Belly took Jeremiah by surprise, due to her huge glow up. I stood there watching them hug, with a knowing look on my face. Belly’s crush on Jeremiah wasn’t as oblivious as she intended it to be.

Jeremiah put Belly down and looked my way, a smile spreading across his face. “Look at.. you.” My face felt flushed and he ran up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and spinning me around.

“Jeremiah! Put me down!” I pleaded, but he kept spinning me until I I felt like throwing up. Asshole.

“You look nice.” He says, once again. I smirk and ruffle his hair a little bit.

Jeremiah puts me down and rushes over to Steven, when a bruiting cloud appears over the house. I look at their silhouette and feel my body tense up.

Conrad. Conrad. Conrad.

My feelings for the eldest fisher brother were obvious, at least to Belly and Susannah. But after everything that happened with my parents, I was different. And besides, I really didn’t want to think about everything that happened last summer. Me and him.

“Y/N, you look beautiful.” Susannah says, pulling me into a hug. I feel her warmth radiate onto me and I embrace it. Susannah was the sun that shined over the house, and the clouds never worried her at all. In fact, she could probably find positive things about the clouds. “How have you been?”

“Fine. I missed you, Susannah.” She smiles and leads us all into the house. The boys grabbed Belly and did their whole Belly flop thing. I just watched from inside the house with Laurel and Susannah.

Being back in cousins was amazing, but something just felt different this year. I mean - things were different. A lot had changed. I felt a hand behind me and turned around to the beautiful blonde women.

“Have you spoken to Conrad yet?” She almost whispers. Damn it. Fuck.

“Umm, maybe?” I basically spat while saying it.

“He misses you, Y/N.” Susannah has a way of saying things that almost made me believe it. Believe anything. Anything but this.

“Please, say hi at least?” She pleads. How could I say no to her? But how could I say hello to him..?

I smiled at her, not wanting to ruin the mood. She walked towards the family room beside Laurel and Belly comes dripping inside.

“Belly! Don’t get me wet!” I yell at her, but with a playful tone.

“Blame the boys, not me.” I looked towards the patio and saw Conrad sitting outside. He looked back at me. Fuck, fuck again. I should make Susannah happy, I have to.

Before I can go outside he turns the corner, and he’s gone.

I sigh and walk out the door and near the pool, maybe If i just wait he’ll come back. Then again, I’ll look totally desperate. Maybe i’ll just go inside again—

“Hi.” I freeze. I turned around to see him standing in front of me with a half smile.

“Hey.” I say. Dry.

“How are you?” He says, and there’s a million things I could say.

“You know, i’m decent. I’m here.” I use my hands to express what I’m trying to say but it just comes out weird.

“Right, that’s good. I’m glad you’re doing better.”

There was an awkward tension wafting in the air and I nodded before rushing back into the house, not daring to look back at him.

—

I really didn’t want to talk about Conrad. Or anything. I was moody because apart of me loved cousins but after being here for a couple of hours I just wanted my parents back.

“He feels different this summer, you know?” She says, flopping onto my bed.

Believe me, I had noticed. I caught him smoking a joint after I abruptly ran away from him. I pretended to know nothing, though.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Really? I thought you would notice, you’re like all crushy about him.”

I laughed, “Crushy is not a word.”

“You get what I mean. Like, did you even say hello to him? Like a normal person?”

I grabbed her by the sides and started tickling her, “Isabel Conklin, since when did you get so mean?” I finally let go after a good minute and we were both breathless on the bed.

“I’ve changed. We both have.” She sat up, bringing me along with her. “I mean, we’re hot now. This is our summer.”

I looked into the nearby mirror and couldn’t help but frown. This was supposed to be our summer, but what was summer without my mom? Without things ever being normal again?

—

“I’m so happy we’re all here.” Susannah said, raising a glass at the dinner table.

We all just nodded and let Susannah talk about all the things she wanted to do this summer, which led her to pull out two cards from her pocket.

“What are those?” Belly says before I can ask.

“I wrangled Belly and Yn an invitation to be a debutante!”

Oh gosh. Susannah handed me and Belly the invites and a harsh breeze passed through the air as I recognized these all too well.

“My mom wanted me to do this. She talked about it earlier this year before—” I stopped myself, but it was too late. Everybody knew.

I could feel Conrad’s eyes on mine. All the memories seeping in. We’re my lungs closing in? That’s what it felt like. Belly smiles.

“That sounds like so much fun!” Steven let out a laugh, but Laurel was not amused.

“Those balls are ridiculous. Yn and Belly are not fit for that at all.”

Belly frowned, “Why?” She was obviously more eager to participate in this than I was.

Susannah offered me a small smile, “At least think about it? It will give you two a chance to meet some new people.”

I looked down at the paper, and even though I didn’t want to, I just couldn’t say no, and maybe it was my mother but I couldn’t.

“I’ll think about it.”

—

A/N: What do you guys think? Sorry this chapter is kinda short and slow, it’s an introduction lol. The next one will be coming out very soon!

#conrad x reader #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #team conrad #team jeremiah #love #summer love #chris briney #gavin casalegno #belly conklin #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp

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