#not quite suicide but he shoots himself in the head
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SERENDIPITY (teaser)
18+ / mdi
summary: jungkook, god of love and son of venus is given the task by his mother herself to rid the world of you, known as psyche, as your beauty begins to rival her own. unfortunately for all parties involved, jungkook becomes enamored by you upon accidentally pinching himself with his own arrow.
content: cupid!jungkook, psyche!reader, an extremely simplified and smutty version of the og story, afab reader, side character deaths, mentions of attempted suicide, the dialogue is not super fitting of the times, angst(?), fluff, smut, they have sex where she doesnt know who he is multiple times but its consensual, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), etc.
(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)
wc: 841 (teaser); 8.6k (full fic)
release date: may 3rd
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a/n: i decided to do my first jungkook full fic in celebration for hitting 4k followers!! i hope u guys enjoy<3
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"Why did you call for me, again?"
"Jungkook, pay attention!", hissed his mother, holding her fingers to her temples in stress as one of her many servants walked in with the fruit she'd requested, "I need you to use your arrows on someone."
"What? Why? I thought you didn't like me meddling with people's love lives."
"This is different. This one needs a little help," Venus frowned in sheer annoyance, "She is known as Psyche by many, Y/N by her loved ones. She has become quite a figure among the Roman population. Some have begun to worship her beauty. They pray to her, they bring her offerings, they kiss at her feet, completely disregarding the true Goddess of Beauty."
"And where does this concern me?", Jungkook was beyond bored by his mother's ramblings. On a usual day, he would be out and entertaining himself with the many mortal maidens found around Rome, always guaranteeing himself a partner for the day.
Venus shot Cupid a look as her servants fed her by mouth, making him straighten his back and begin paying better attention. Even as the Goddess of Beauty, Venus was known as one of the most menacing Goddesses to exist, holding far too much power among all Gods and Goddesses. Jungkook couldn't help but feel intimidated by her, even as carefree as he was known to be.
"She has far too many admirers. Even Gods are beginning to show interest in her, yet she is lacking in suitors thus far. I need you to shoot your arrow and tie her off to the most hideous creature you can muster. She may seize from being a disturbance this way."
"Okay, so you want me to doom her to an eternity with a monster?", Jungkook tilted his head in curiosity.
Despite being considered the most beautiful entity, Jungkook knew Venus to be one of the least amicable creatures in all of the land. Mortals were blissfully unaware of her cruelty, thinking her to be the most perfect among all Goddesses. However, Cupid, as her son, knew of the misery that awaited anyone who crossed the Goddess of Beauty.
Venus halted her movements in frustration, scaring the servants nearby before turning to Jungkook in annoyance, "Cupid, my son, you will obey my order without question. I gave you those wings, I gave you that bow., and I gave you that arrow. I don't care how cruel you may think me to be, this is an order. You shall not utilize your powers for your own endeavors until you finish your task," she demanded, "Now, go rid me of that wench before I find someone else to do the job."
With a sigh, Jungkook nodded in defeat, fully aware of the type of punishments his mother could deliver should he disobey her orders. Walking over to the window through which he had originally entered, he pulled his bow and arrow from his back, beginning to fly off with his wings as he embarked on a journey to seek out the mighty Psyche that had his mother so worried.
"Y/N, there's another letter from one of your admirers," announced Psyche's mother, placing the letter on the huge pile of gifts provided by the many civilians who came visit their castle with the hope of getting a glimpse of the beautiful girl.
"Mother, what shall I do with all these? There's so many letters yet not a single suitor," you sighed, frustrated at the lack of prospects you'd had so far, "My sisters have both married, yet I am left alone with no one to seek my heart."
"Child, you should be grateful," said your mother, "You are admired through all the land, vied for as if you were a true Goddess. Someone will come for you one day, rest assured," affirmed your mother, petting your hair as she landed a soft kiss on your forehead and took her leave once more.
It was easy for your parents to grow used to the love and admiration you received. Endless people would come and dedicate themselves to their servitude if it meant as much as receiving your blessing – which was absolutely worthless as a mere princess in a land filled with mystical deities.
Your elder sisters had both been married off months back, finding old yet respectable husbands to take them away and care for them as any and all husbands should. You, however, remained alone with your parents, always hoping that a man would be brave enough to court you.
It was unfortunate, really; the way in which your beauty prevented you from receiving any suitors. You had not chosen to be blessed by Venus herself, nor did you ever hope to become her contender in the title of the most beautiful entity in all of creation. Unlike you, she had found a God to sweep her off her feet, gifting her with the fruit of love himself – her son Cupid. Oh, how you wished he'd shoot his arrow and allow you some rest from this endless search for a husband.
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#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts x reader#bts scenario#jungkook scenario#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagine
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I feel like when people compare Akechi to Light Yagami, they fundamentally misunderstand his character. Their similarities really end at their designs, and Light is the kind of person Akechi would despise.
Light Yagami lives a pretty privileged life at the start of Death Note. He has a stable home, with two parents and a sister who care about him. He's a successful student. There isn't really inherent tragedy to his life. The whole reason he starts using the Death Note is a mix of curiosity and a jaded worldview, and when it works it empowers him, very quickly goes to his head, as he believes he is one who can be a god of a "new world" once the shock of his initial kills wears off. While his first kill was to help someone, that altruism didn't last. He is in charge of his choices, while Ryuk mostly vibes and maybe eggs him on a little. Fundamentally, Light has something Akechi lacks: agency, and a comfortable life he took for granted.
Meanwhile, Akechi is someone who lived on the bottom rung of Japanese society. His very existence is shameful there, between his mother being a sex worker, his status as an illegitimate/"throw away" child, and his mother's suicide. Years languishing in a foster system that is notoriously inhumane, in a country where 90% of the adoptions are grown men for inheritance and patriarchal reasons, while very few children in the system find permanent homes.
When Akechi awakens his power, he approaches Shido not because he wants to kill people but for a stupid revenge plan cooked up by a traumatized child who's been nudged along by a malevolent god. He wants to build Shido up so that at the height of his power, he can expose him for the monster he really is, while another part of him genuinely wants to be useful to Shido, as Cogkechi later calls out. His feelings are a mess of contradictions, and so it's no surprise that Shido was able to mold him into his assassin at only 15 years old.
It's also worth noting that Akechi only approaches Shido with his ability to cause psychotic breakdowns. Shido is the one who teaches and instructs him to do shutdowns. He's still complicit, very sunk cost with his revenge plan, but as I spoke of here, even if he wanted to quit, he couldn't alone.
Shido's cleaner and control of the law and ability to effortlessly turn him in would render the Metaverse his only safe haven.
I think people look at 11/20 Akechi and Akechi in the early parts of the engine room and assume that's just his "true self," when in reality it's another mask. Royal makes it very clear because in Rank 7, he outright warns Joker of what's to come via a pool metaphor and offers an out (though he's MUCH happier if you don't take it/stick to your principles), and in Rank 8, he goes on that big "I hate you" speech... while Sunset Bridge is playing. Y'know, the song that plays at the end of most confidants to reaffirm bonds.
So when he smiles as he shoots what he assumes to be Joker, that doesn't mean he's genuinely happy. More likely, he's an emotional clusterfuck, given he also is disoriented enough to namedrop "Shido-san" over the phone, and in the subsequent meeting with Shido, tells him not to kill the Phantom Thieves and that Morgana is "just a cat."
Yes, he says they'll make them fear for the rest of their lives, but remember, he's talking to Shido. The things he says are likely all incredibly calculated to sound appealing to Shido. And when you consider that he planned to utterly destroy Shido's reputation after the election, the "delay" makes even more sense.
Later, Akechi goes on about how the people he induced shutdowns on were deserving of their fates, but I don't think he believes it so much as it's the only way he could convince himself that it was worth it, and given how much society failed him, and given how many of the people he targeted were likely rivals/competitors or rich fucks, I think he'd be less inclined to assume good faith.
Kunikazu Okumura was not an innocent little victim, after all. He was one of the people who requested breakdowns and shutdowns the most. I think Akechi enjoyed killing him not because of how it'd hurt Haru, but because of catharsis. Because Okumura is just as monstrous as Shido, so why should he feel remorse? However, I don't believe he feels the same about Wakaba, as when he discusses her with Shido, he mentions how her fate was because she refused to willingly work for him.
It's another justification, but I personally think Wakaba's death was the most painful for him because he was effectively making Futaba just like him. That's why I think his reaction to Sae threatening Sojiro's custody was genuine.
Anyway, evil grinning Akechi is just another mask, as I said. Keep in mind, this is someone who laments not meeting Joker years ago, someone who Morgana outright points out is lying about his hatred.
And that's the thing. Light Yagami, while a really fascinating character, is not someone who had all this childhood suffering or lack of agency. He does not regret his actions in the slightest and goes down due to his own hubris in both the anime and the manga. While you can argue that Ryuk set him up by dropping the Death Note, Light was the one who picked it up and chose to use it. Any nudging from Ryuk didn't coerce Light into doing it because Light seized the opportunity.
No, if Light Yagami is like anyone in Persona 5, it's Masayoshi Shido, not Goro Akechi. Both believe they are god/god's chosen, that they are the ones who will reshape the world to their ideals, and to be frank, both use and abuse women to serve their own purposes.
Goro Akechi goes down sacrificing himself for the Thieves and pleading with them to stop his father and again in Maruki's reality when he refuses to let Joker accept a gilded prison of a world for his sake when he knows better than anyone what it's like to have no true freedom. If you max his confidant, you see him in the postcredits, leaving his survival entirely possible, and I think it works because at the end of the day, Akechi was meant to be a victim and a foil.
Light is a villain protagonist and a cautionary tale. Though its his POV we follow, he isn't someone we're meant to root for, but I definitely don't think enjoying the character is a bad thing at all. He's really interesting! I just think that a lot of the Akechi and Light comparisons are surface level at best.
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Rewarded & Rescued {Javier Peña x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 18.2k
Warnings: Human trafficking, kidnapping, drugging, mentions of rape, threats of suicide, mentions of Stockholm syndrome, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, biting, protected sex, unprotected sex, angst
Comments: Undercover working for Escobar, Javier is given a horrible gift. A woman, an American. Kidnapped from a club and presented to him as a reward. Unable to let you know who he is, all he can do is reassure you that he won't hurt you. Until you work out that he's not quite what he seems.
A/N: Despite being an American, there are no physical descriptions of the reader. Conversations are in Spanish until indicated they are in English.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
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|| MasterList || Javier Peña MasterList ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
“Gomez.” Javier looks up from his spot across the room when Herdanez comes into the room. It’s hard to react when his undercover name is called out but he forces himself to look up when he hears it.
“¿Sí?” He asks, stubbing out his smoke in the ashtray.
“Boss will see you now.” He says and Javier stands up and makes his way into the office. Escobar stands up and Javier pushes down his hatred of the man as he greets him as fondly as he can manage.
“Hermano. You’ve been doing a great job. Blackie said he’s impressed and I want to reward your hard work.” He snaps his fingers and the doors open, a woman stumbling in as she is manhandled by Blackie. He refrains from clenching his jaw. He knows what this is. The reward. “She’s yours. To do whatever you want with. And she’s American.” He grins wickedly, handing Peña your passport and your purse. “She can’t go anywhere without this. Take her and keep up the good work.” He says and Javier clenches his jaw, unsure of how to feel but he knows how to react. There’s only one way. He grins and reaches out to shake the boss’s hand.
“Thank you. She’s perfect.” He says with a smirk and your eyes widen, realizing that you aren’t gonna be rescued by this man.
It had been so stupid to go to that club. Even more stupid than it had been to even come to Colombia. You had risked it, you and the three other girls you had been with. Thinking that nothing would happen to you because you were Americans. Knowing Spanish and speaking fluently didn’t help when you were drugged and kidnapped by a fucking drug cartel. A notorious one at that. Everyone knows about Pablo Escobar. You had joked about buying some coke from him when you were safe in your hometown, planning this trip. Meeting him had been less than joyous though, your friends' fates possibly even worse than your own. They had talked about sharing the others with Escobar’s sicarios, letting all the men fuck them. It seems like you have the privilege of just being raped by one man, instead of numerous ones. “Please.” You shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks and your jaw hurts where the one they call Blackie had punched you. “I just want to go home.” You beg. “I just want to go home.”
Javier wants to shoot every fucker in there for making a woman plead for their life, for their innocence, but he can’t. He has to pretend like he’s as evil as the rest of them. “You aren’t going home.” He says in English. “She’s going home with me.” He chuckles, speaking in Spanish again, “I’m going to fuck her so hard she splits in two. Can’t wait to see her pretty eyes water when I shove my cock down her throat.” He says wickedly, smirking at the other men. “She’s gonna be screaming out.” He chuckles.
“Are you gonna fuck her ass? It’s cute.” Blackie winks at your horrified face and Javier shrugs, “haven’t decided. Gonna see how she does taking my cock in her pussy. I’m thick so she’s gonna struggle.”
You feel sick to your stomach. So much so that you gag. The only thing keeping you from vomiting is the fact that you are starving, not being fed since waking up in a tiny room after being taken from the club. “Please.” You begin in Spanish and then switch back to English. “Please? I can pay- my parents, they will- what do you want? Please, don’t- don’t do this.” It’s futile, but you have to try, unwilling to become someone’s sex slave.
“Your begging won’t get you anywhere. Nor will your money. Come on chica. I want to get you home.” Javier says in English as he grabs your arm from Blackie. He drags you against him and you struggle. “Don’t struggle. Unless you want me to put a fucking bullet in your brain.” He hisses in warning as he drags you out of the room to Escobar and Blackie grinning and clapping their hands in approval.
“No. No, no, no, no.” You try to fight him, to pull away even with the threat of death. It would be better than your future. You would rather be dead than to endure whatever this disgusting man would have in store for you. The fact that he’s actually attractive doesn’t even register, unable to believe anyone so vile could be remotely good looking. Your wrist hurts from how tight he is gripping it and you feel like your shoulder is going to wrench from the socket as hard as you are pulling back against him. Fruitlessly fighting the inevitable as he drags you out to a four door jeep. “No! Help! Someone please!” You scream, even though there is no one around, obviously planned that way.
He growls at you, “no one is gonna hear your cries here, sweetheart. Just shut the fuck up.” He demands, needing you to be quiet so he can get you up to his apartment and tell you he’s not gonna touch you. He slams the door after shoving you in the back seat and he gets on quickly, locking the doors before he starts the car. You press up against the wall of the car, shaking, and Javier wants to tell you it’s okay but he can’t. He can’t help you right now. “Stop whimpering. Makes it worse.” He tells you honestly, “be brave.”
Biting your lip, you try to do as he says, sure that these men take pleasure in hearing women cry. Your tears still stream down your face, wondering if he will kill you quickly, crying for your friends. Closing your eyes, you try not to sob.
Javi quickly navigates the traffic and parks in the garage, coming around after killing the engine to open your door and he grabs your arm, “come on.” He hisses, practically dragging you into the elevator. When you press up against the wall, he pushes the button for his floor and you shake. When the doors open, you remain pressed against the wall and he shakes his head, grabbing you to swing you over his shoulder, carrying you down the hall to his apartment.
It’s almost impossible to keep from kicking and hitting at him, but you keep yourself limp, making him work to carry you. Trying to see what the apartment numbers are and looking back at the elevator so you can run away the first chance you get. The man you’ve been given to is wearing a gun, tucked into the back of his jeans and you bite your lip, wanting to reach it when you get the chance.
He knows where your mind is at. “Don’t bother. It’s not loaded.” He lies, “bullets are in my pocket.” He walks faster and deposits you at the door as he quickly fumbles with his keys, pushing the door open to push you inside within seconds. The lock clicks as he shuts the door and you stumble back, eyes wide and you’re shaking.
“Don’t touch me!” You spit, getting angry. He might overpower you, but you are going to fight him tooth and nail. Make it difficult for him. “I’ll- I’ll kill you.” You stumble back and look around the living room wildly for anything to use as a weapon.
Javier can't help it. He chuckles, shaking his head. "You won't because I ain't gonna touch you, sweetheart." He can't tell you why but he can tell you that he won't harm you. "I - it's a long story but I had to make a show of it back there. I am not - not-" He emphasizes, "that kind of man. I won't touch you. You stay here with me until I can get you out. I can't risk it yet. Gotta make them think that I have violated you to impress them."
Shaking your head, you scoff, not believing him for a minute. He just wants you to let down your guard, to make it easier for him. He steps forward and you leap back, bumping into the coffee table and knocking a letter opener onto the floor with a loud clatter. Looking down, your eyes widen and you drop down to your knees to grab it as he rushes forward. “Stay back!” You scream, holding the sharp tip to your own neck. “One more step and you’ll have to fuck my dead body before it gets too cold!”
“Jesus Christ“ Javier groans, and shakes his head, unable to believe how dramatic you are being. To threaten to take your own life. When he just told you, he wasn’t going to touch you. He guesses he has to make you believe him by his actions, “there is no need for that, sweetheart. I promise you that I’m not going to touch you. I swear on my dead mama‘s grave and I like my women to be willing. I don’t like a fucking struggle. I want a woman to shake in pleasure, not in fear.“
“Then let me go.” You demand, frowning at him. He doesn’t seem angry you are threatening to kill yourself, just annoyed by wasting his time. “I can’t.” He huffs, making you snort.
“Of course you can’t. Why would you want to give up your gift? Doesn’t matter that I’m a fucking human being! You can’t own me, you don’t own me!” You start to yell again. “I have been threatened with rape, torture, I’ve been beaten and slapped around, my friends are probably raped and murdered too, all because I came to this fucking place and went to a club! Now I want to go home!”
Javier winces, knowing that your friends have definitely suffered a terrible fate at the hands of the sicarios but he won’t let that happen to you. “Listen to me.” He insists, “I can’t let you go because then they’ll know and I - shit - I can’t explain it to you but you got to believe me. Just believe me. I won’t touch you. I’ll make sure you’re fed and safe but you can’t leave.”
You don’t believe him, but it will do nothing more than piss him off to continue to argue with the man. He could just decide to shoot you, so you slowly drop the letter opener from your throat but you don’t let it go. Not fighting him will be as good as it gets.
Javier wants to roll his eyes if you think that you can take him down with a letter opener. “Do you want anything to eat? I doubt those fuckers fed you. I’m not much of a cook but I can do eggs and toast.”
You stare at him for a second. Wondering why, if he’s not like those other men, is he with them. When he just continues to stare at you, you nod slightly. “I- I don’t know what day it is.” You tell him. “I was at the club on Saturday night.”
“It’s Wednesday. They kept you in a room with your friends yesterday because you wouldn’t submit and they needed to make you suffer. Weaken you. It’s what they do. Fuck with your mind, then your body. Let’s get you something to eat and to drink. You gotta be starving.”
You shouldn’t take anything from him. Not when you know that he could just be toying with you, but you are ravenous. You bite your lip and nod once, looking around the apartment once again. Looking for any clue of what kind of man you had been given to.
He nods, making his way into the kitchen. He knows he’s taking a risk having you here and you could easily try to run or try to kill him but he has to take the risk. The bigger risk would be his cover being blown. He doesn’t entirely know if you’re a plant in his home to give information back to Escobar. He trusts no one and he can’t risk anything but he wouldn’t touch you. He could never cross that line. He opens the fridge and grabs the eggs and bread, grabbing the bottles of water to give you, certain that you’ll want something sealed until you can trust him.
It’s comforting that he’s given you something sealed but you discreetly turn the water bottle upside down and squeeze it to make sure there’s not a needle hole in the plastic. When it holds, you eagerly turn it upright and quickly break the seal. Gulping down the water in desperate gulps as you think it might be the best water you’ve ever tasted because you are so thirsty.
Javier watches you down the water as he puts the pans on the stove to begin cooking. The eggs start to cook and he turns to look at you, to really look at you. You’re gorgeous. No need to deny that to himself but he knows you’re angry and sad. Rightly so. He is for you. That this fuckers are doing this to other women and getting away with it. That’s why he’s doing this. Because of Helena, because of the lives that are destroyed directly or indirectly by Escobar.
You feel better just by drinking the water, but your stomach is still panging with hunger. The smell of the food making you moan quietly, unconsciously stepping towards the kitchen and the man inside it. “Are you- I can have some food?” You ask quietly. “Without doing things?”
Javier wants to growl out his frustration at you being worried that he wants something in exchange for food. The basic need. It’s insulting. He turns to look at you incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding? I- I just told you I didn’t want anything and this is food. You need food. Like I said, I like my women to give me all encompassing consent and I want them to be fully enjoying themselves. A struggle isn’t a turn on for me. It’s disgusting.” He says honestly, his face straight to convey the seriousness of his statement until he turns back to stir the scrambled eggs.
For a moment, you feel guilty. He seems genuinely disgusted by the idea of demanding favors from you, but he had accepted you as some sort of bonus from his boss. You swallow harshly and toy with the letter opener that’s still in your other hand. “Can I have more water? My- my mouth is still dry.”
“Sure. There’s plenty in the fridge. Go get one.” He says, wanting to give you some autonomy in a situation that makes you feel trapped. He watches you hesitate before you walk over to the fridge and he starts to butter the bread and puts it on the pan to toast.
You grab another water and look through the contents of the fridge. There’s not much, obviously he doesn’t eat here often and you wonder why he’s bothering to cook for you. More importantly, why aren’t you trying to get out of the apartment? You’re tired, hungry and he’s holding your passport. That’s why. You move over to a barstool at the counter and plop down, overwhelmed by everything.
He glances over his shoulder at you as he plates up the food, turning off the stove and he carries the plates over to the counter, setting them down in front of you and he turns back to clean up. “Eat.” He orders you with a point before he turns back to clean up.
It’s probably the gruffest nice thing that anyone has ever done for you, and you want to resist, but you’re starving. Falling on the simple breakfast with an enthusiasm that surprises you.
Javi notices how hungry you are and he pushes the other plate towards you. “Have that. You’re hungry. I already ate today.” He says as he washes up the pans, allowing you to have your meal in peace. He wants you to relax a little, realize he isn’t going to hurt you.
You shouldn’t accept it, but you’re too hungry to push it away. Devouring your eggs and toast before pushing the empty plate away and starting on the next. You might make yourself sick, but right now, you don’t even care.
He’s pleased that you are eating. You clearly need it after those bastards starved you. “I’m sure you want a shower too. I have a shirt you can borrow and some boxers - they’re new…I don’t really wear them.” He confesses, “I’ll see about getting you some clothes tomorrow.” He says, knowing he’s gonna need some help from one of the girls to get the right stuff. All he knows about clothes is ripping them off and he doesn’t want to do that to you.
You freeze for a moment, sure that the offer is just a ploy to leave you naked and vulnerable. His stance is unsure when he turns back to you, as if he’s embarrassed by the idea of not having clothes for you and that makes you relax. “I- I won’t-“ you pause, not sure of what you will say. “Thank you.”
Javier nods, “you need clothes and toiletries. Make a list of what you need and your sizes and I’ll get it sorted.” He promises as he scrubs the pan while you finish eating. He’s not sure how he’s going to get you out of the country without Escobar knowing. He will have to think about it later when you’re settled and not trying to stab yourself or him with a letter opener.
You can’t believe this man is willing to buy you clothes. Frowning slightly as you swallow the last bite of eggs. “Why do you work for a man like that?” You ask. “If you aren’t like him? How can you stand what he does to people?”
“It’s complicated.” Javier tells you as he wipes the counter down before he turns back to look at you. “I can’t tell you why. It would put you in even more danger. I know you can’t but all I can ask is that you trust me.” He pleads, needing you to believe that he’s here to be a good man, not like them.
You have no choice but to believe that he isn’t like those other men. It’s not like you can do much if he is, regardless. Your eyes are on his and you nod, realizing that he looks haunted. His dark eyes are trying to tell you something, but you don’t know what. “The American newspapers say the DEA will catch Escobar any day now.” You tell him. “You might want to stop working for him if you want to avoid jail or being killed.”
Javier can’t help but snort, “sure thing, sweetheart. I’ll keep that in mind.” Unable to tell you that he’s DEA. He can’t tell you anything, just in case you are a plant from Escobar. Your reactions tell him you aren’t but he can never be too sure.
You can only pray that you are still alive by the time that Escobar is taken down. You scrape the plate clean and sigh softly. Your stomach doesn’t hurt any more but you’re emotional and honestly exhausted. Yawning catches you off guard and you try to hide it from the man.
Javier notices and bites his lip, watching you for a second. “You wanna shower before you go to bed?” He asks, “I have a guest room. It’s all yours.” He adds when you narrow your eyes at him. He guides you to the bedroom and shows you the shower. “I’ll get you some clean clothes.” He offers, knowing you’ll want some alone time.
You’re alone and it should be the time that you are running to the window to see if you can escape or signal someone, but you’re too tired. Beaten down already and just wanting to shower and sleep. He’s bringing you clothes so you can’t lock the door, but you do lock the door to the bathroom before you strip your clothes off. The letter opener on the edge of the tub.
He grabs some clothes for you, setting them on the bed, and he wonders what’s going through your mind. You must be terrified. He wants to grab his gun and kill every fucker who does this to a woman. Make them pay. He can’t, not yet. He has to take this operation down from the inside out. He rubs his cheek while you shower, grabbing his pack of cigarettes to quickly light one. It’s gonna be hard to keep himself from thinking about how gorgeous you are. You are a beautiful woman and he can never tell you. You’d immediately be on alert and not trust him.
You feel better now that you’ve showered. Clean. You had scrubbed your skin so hard it practically squeaks and you are glad to trade the club dress that was stained and torn for the comfortable t-shirt and boxers that were waiting on the bed when you had peeked out the door to find no one in the room.
Javier snubs out his smoke and picks up the phone, dialing in on a classified number and giving his code name for access. “Peña. How’s it going?” His partner Steve asks.
“Christ, they gave me a girl. To do whatever I want with.” He tells Steve who groans down the phone.
“What are you gonna do with her? Fuck her?” Steve asks and Javi growls, “fuck no. She - she’s American. I have her passport. I need to figure out how to get her on a plane without Escobar knowing what I’ve done.” Javi explains.
Steve hums down the phone, “let me sort that out. You can’t risk having some girl in your apartment. Jesus, never thought I’d say that.” Steve snorts, “leave it with me.” He says before the line goes dead and Javier sighs.
Back in the bedroom, you are too exhausted to come back out, but you don’t completely trust the man who’s apartment you are in. Sliding a chair under the doorknob would be too obvious, so you put the letter opener under your pillow when you collapse onto the bed, ready to sleep. Hopefully, this will all be a bad dream and you will wake up from it soon.
Javier takes a sip of the whiskey, staring at the papers on the kitchen table while you sleep. He’s trying to figure out where the illegal money goes and who the money man is. If he can figure that out, he can track them down and bring them in. Escobar has had the government in his pocket for too long and they need undeniable evidence to make anyone take notice and question the cartel leader.
You sleep for hours. The sun is gone and the room is dark when you wake up. Making you think that maybe you had dreamed it all when you feel the letter opener under the pillow. Screaming when you realize you really are in this nightmare and not waking up safe and at home.
Javier rushes into the bedroom, eyes wide and gun in hand as he wonders if somehow someone from the cartel has realized who he is and has decided to take you both out. When he sees you sitting up, he glances around the room with his gun drawn. “What the fuck?” He shouts, heart pounding.
Eyes wide. You gulp. “S-sorry.” You bite your lip and raise your hands, leaving the letter opener under the pillow. “Bad dream.” You explain quietly. “I-I had a bad dream.”
He lowers the gun, feeling guilty for you having bad dreams. He shakes his head and shoves the gun into the back of his pants. “Jesus. Scared the shit out of me.” He confesses, placing his hand on his racing heart. “You want something to drink?” He asks, knowing you might not but he needs something to take the edge off.
You tilt your head, confused at the way this man just offers you casual hospitality like you aren’t his property. Nodding slowly, you have to admit that it would be good to relax a bit. “I- thank you.” You mumble. “For not shooting me.”
Javier snorts, “yeah well, I don’t usually hesitate before shooting.” He confesses, “but I wouldn’t shoot you.” He promises as he walks into the living room and over to the bar cart. “I have whiskey and…vodka.” He says, knowing that whiskey is the only thing he drinks so he has vodka for any of his female company that comes over to give him intel.
“I drink what you drink.” You decide, figuring it would be safer to have the same thing he is. He was less likely to drug your drink that way. You scramble after him, wearing the clothes he had brought you and in your haste, you had forgotten the letter opener.
Javier nods, grabbing two glasses and he pours out a heavy measure of whiskey into each glass. He knows you need it and he definitely fucking does. He hands you the glass after letting you watch him pour and he takes a sip to assure you it’s safe. “I’m sorry you’re here. In this shit situation with me.”
“I don’t understand.” You take a sip of your whiskey after he does. “You don’t act like Escobar, joking about what he would do with me if he wasn’t giving me to you. Yet, you had done something vile enough to rate getting a real live sex toy.” You snort. “A fresh cunt as Pablo said.”
Javier turns to look you in the eye, “don’t be mistaken. I’m not a good man. I’ve done a lot of shit. Bad shit. But that- touching a woman without her consent? That is too fucking far. I’ll kill bad men but I won’t kill women or children. I need to prove myself to Escobar but not by violating an innocent woman. I meant what I said…I like my women willing and consensual.”
You contemplate what he says, watching him closely and realize that he really is handsome. His chiseled jaw compliments his sharp nose and is softened by the mustache that is straight from the 70’s. “You must have been a Bandit fan.” You tell him suddenly, thinking about the American movie.
Javier chuckles, “I did love watching Burt Reynolds but I tried the 80s and didn’t like the clothes of the music. Didn’t fit me so I turned back to my old closet and I’ve never looked back since.” He smirks, “most women say it suits me.” He shrugs and takes another sip of his drink.
It does suit him and he knows it. You settle in the chair opposite him a little more. “So you aren’t going to hurt me, but you can’t let me go? Right?” You bite your lip. “Tell me, what are you going to do with me?”
Javier sighs, setting his glass down. “You’re gonna stay here until I can figure out how to get you home.” He reveals, “it’s too dangerous to let you go. They’ll find out I let you go and then it’s my ass on the line. Give me time to figure it out and then I’ll get you home.”
“Why?” You frown, looking down into the last drops of your whiskey and then back up at him. “You don’t know me, I’m nothing to you.” It’s harsh, but it’s also reality. He shouldn’t care about you at all but he’s going to risk himself for you?
“You represent the many women who have been abused or killed at the hands of Pablo Escobar and his sicarios. You won’t be one of the many who have suffered at their hands. You’ll go home and tell the world about this tragedy and tell them that Pablo Escobar needs to be taken down.” He says, measuring your reaction.
You stare at him in shock for a moment, unable to believe that he just said that about his boss. Biting your lip, your eyes water emotionally and you nod. “I’ll scream it every chance I get if I survive this.” You know there’s a good chance you won’t live. “He’s- he’s a monster. One who pretends to be noble.” You snort and shake your head. “I’m so fucking stupid. My friends and I- we joked about meeting Escobar on this trip. Buying some coke from him. I’ve never fucking done coke, but I was so cute, thinking that I could meet a drug kingpin.” You shudder and look back down at your drink. “Wish I had fucking missed my flight. Never come here.”
Javier reaches out to touch your hand before he pulls it back. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be safe with me. You shouldn’t have come to Colombia. You should’ve stayed at home. You and your friends shouldn’t have come but you’ll get home.” He promises, “I’ll get you home.”
“I’m sorry.” You whimper quietly. “This is all my fault. It was my idea to come.” You confess. “My friends- they-“ you shake your head, unable to even voice the horrible things that you imagine they are going through. “It’s my fault.”
Javier doesn’t try to placate you with words when you know you’ve fucked up. He doesn’t want to upset you even more but he doesn’t comfort you. “Like I said, you will go home. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I’ll believe you.” You snort, tossing back the rest of the whiskey and holding out the glass for another. “If I don’t, I’ll drive myself crazy.”
Javier nods in understanding as he grabs the glass and refills it. “You can’t leave here, you understand? If you leave, you die. I can’t protect you outside of this apartment.” He says as he hands you back the glass.
“I won’t leave.” You promise, shaking your head. “If you are actually not going to hurt me and keep me safe, I will do whatever you want me to. I just want to go home.”
“I’ll get you home.” Javi promises, his dark eyes meeting yours as he swears he will do whatever it takes to get you home. “Just do what I tell you and you’ll get home.” He swears, downing the rest of his drink.
****
It’s been a few days that you’ve been in his apartment and Javier has left to check in with the sicarios, having to lie and tell them the disgusting things they’d expect him to do to you. They laugh and he pretends to go along with it, making out like he’s done those vile things to you. When he returns to his apartment, he unlocks the door to find you walking around in the fucking shorts he bought you from the list you gave him. He feels disgusting for finding you attractive but you are. You’re gorgeous and he finds himself thinking about you but he would never cross a line, you trust him and he wouldn’t break that trust.
You turn towards the door and watch him walk in, smiling at the sight of him. “Hey.” You greet him and hurry over the bar cart. You have learned that he loves to have whiskey, especially when he’s dealing with the Escobar or his cronies. Pouring him a drink, you hold it out to him. “I started dinner. It should be done soon.”
“That smells good.” He tells you, groaning at the scent wafting from the kitchen. You’ve taken to cooking dinner and for a man who usually survives on booze and cigarettes, it’s a welcome change in his apartment. “What’s cooking?” He asks as he takes the drink from your hand. God, you’re fucking beautiful and can cook. Any man’s dream but he can’t kiss you. Even if he wants to. It’s hard for him to distance himself when he’s so used to physical contact. He hasn’t brought back any of his contacts to the apartment.
“You had some meat in the freezer so it’s like a birria, but I didn’t have tomatoes.” You shrug slightly as he lifts the lid on the pot. “Hopefully it’s good. Although maybe I need to give you a shopping list.”
“Smells fucking delicious.” He groans, “you’re a good cook.” He says and turns back after setting the lid back on the pot. “You’re - you’re too good to me considering the situation.” He murmurs, sliding his eyes across the room guiltily, knowing that his contacts at the embassy are working on how to get you out of the country without anyone knowing.
“You could be a lot worse to me.” You acknowledge. “You could have given me back. I’m grateful that you have kept your word and kept me safe.”
Javier nods, reaching out to gently touch your upper arm. “I am working on getting you out. It’s not gonna be easy but I’m working on it.” He tells you, lowering his hand when he reminds himself that you probably don’t fully trust him even if he’s given you no reason to doubt him.
“I- I appreciate it.” You murmur quietly, looking down at the rice you are cooking. It’s been harder to ignore how attractive he is since you’ve settled in and realized that you are safe. “I really do. So while I can, I’m going to take care of you.”
Javier is surprised and he shakes his head, a little pleased that you feel comfortable with him. “You don’t have to but I appreciate it.” He tells you softly, “now…you want something to drink and then I’ll show you the new clothes I got you.” He says, knowing you need more clothes, he had gotten the girls who work for Escobar to help him get some things.
“You bought me more clothes?” Your eyes widen. “All I do is stay in your apartment. What you had gotten for me was fine.” You promise. You aren’t ungrateful, but he’s not going to take you anywhere, so as long as you’re covered, you’re fine. In fact, you have grown comfortable walking around his apartment in shorts and one of his t-shirts.
“I just wanted you to have some choices.” He shrugs, a little flustered. He must admit that he loves seeing you in his shirts but he can’t admit that to you. You’d think he’s a creep. “I spoke to someone today who is working on getting you a fake passport to get you into the airport and on the plane so Escobar isn’t flagged that you’re leaving.”
“Do you think that could actually happen?” Your eyes are wide and hopeful. “That’s amazing!” You bite your lip so you don’t cry, noticing that tears make him uncomfortable.
“I’m working on it, beautiful.” He promises, “I’m not that bad to live with, I hope, that you want to go because of me.” He teases softly and he winks at you. You have slotted into his life seamlessly and he isn’t sure how to feel about it.
You laugh and bite your lip again, this time to keep from saying that he is great. For a man who obviously has done horrible things, he’s actually pretty fantastic. He is kind, respectable, and intelligent. You’ve spent hours reading the books in his apartment. “No, not because of you. I think that you might be my guardian angel.”
Javier sighs and shakes his head, “I wouldn’t say that. I- I’ve done bad things in my life. I’m not a good man but like I said, I would never hurt a woman. My mama would slap me across the head if she were alive.” He says, ducking his head and he bites his lip, “when’s dinner gonna be ready? I’ll set the table.”
You shake your head and push him away from the stove playfully. “Go shower.” You insist. “You stink.” He doesn’t, but you want to take care of him. He should relax and get clean. “Shoo.”
He chuckles and nods, making his way out of the kitchen to shower and clean up. He never imagined he’d enjoy this kind of life. The one where he comes home to a home cooked meal and a woman that makes his heart flutter - not that he’d ever tell you that. He can’t get involved with you. You don’t actually know him or who he is. He needs to get you home and safe and he needs to take down Escobar.
Setting the table is so domestic. Like all of this. The table setting is for two, since he insists you eat as well and it’s shameful but you imagine he’s your boyfriend that you are cooking for. That you are together and he will kiss you before you eat. The rice is done and you smirk when you hear the shower start up, knowing that he will feel better after getting clean.
Javier showers and he can’t help his cock hardening at the thought of you walking around in his shirt wearing those short shorts. Fuck, he shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t touch himself at the thought of you. He wants it. It’s hard not to when you look at him with those eyes. “Shit.” He hisses in English, reaching down to grip his hard cock, knowing this won’t go away until he deals with it. He slowly pumps, imagining you spread out on his kitchen table instead of your delicious food.
You fix yourself a drink too, aware that he doesn’t mind and sip it while you chop the few vegetables he had to make a salad. The man needs some proper food. And not from a restaurant like he had been doing. It feels good to do this, and you can see he appreciates it. Loving how he groans when he eats, you touched yourself last night imagining those groans were his sex noises.
He pants as he jerks himself off, the hot water running down his back as he imagined those little whimpers you make sometimes are from his mouth on your pussy. He wants to hear how you moan, see how you cum. You are as intoxicating as the whiskey you serve him and fuck if he doesn't want to drown in you.
The timer on the stove goes off and you smirk when you open the lid again. It’s smelling delicious and will be perfect the rice and the tortillas. His shower is taking longer than normal, so you don’t dish it up just yet, wanting it to be steaming hot when he sits down to eat
He groans when he cums, painting the shower tiles with his seed as he clenches his eyes shut and thinks about you. How fucking perfect you are. He pants as he rests his forehead on the cool tile as he slowly works his cock until he lets go and washes off the wall. He will do whatever it takes to get you home. You deserve to be safe and with your family. After turning off the shower and drying off, he dresses and makes his way back into the kitchen. "Smell better?" He asks teasingly.
You grin and lean in to sniff him when there’s the sound of gunfire, seemingly right outside the window. “Get down!” He screams in perfect English as he grabs your arm and pushes you down, under the table and sprints across the room to his gun.
His heart pounds as he grabs his gun and presses against the wall beside the window. The gun shots become more distant and he chances a peek out the window. Seeing a young kid running away. It’s something that happens with the young teenagers fighting in their own gangs. He pants as he lowers his gun, tense but glad to know you’re not in danger. You’re under the table so he sets the gun on the side and kneels down to see you. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks you, again in perfect English, forgetting to keep up speaking in his mother tongue around you.
English. His English is perfect, not even a hint of an accent. He's an American. Your eyes widen in horror and you jerk back when he reaches for you. “You’re an American!” You screech, pushing out from under the table and moving to the other side, keeping the table between you. “You motherfucker, you’ve been lying to me! What is this? Some kind of trick? You’re planning on trafficking me?”
Javier curses softly under his breath at his fuck up. “No! No! I- shit. I can’t tell you. I can’t but you have to trust me. I’m American and I’m- I’m one of the good guys.” He winces at how bad that sounds but it’s true. “You gotta just trust me, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you home.”
“Stay back.” You shake your head and your heart drops. “I- I don’t believe you. I’ve been here for days and you’ve just pretended that you aren’t American! How can I trust anything you say?”
“You have to.” He says harshly, “I’m the only way you’re going to get out of this country. I’m your only hope. So you better trust me or you will be stuck here forever.” He half threatens, needing you to understand the gravity of the situation.
Your eyes widen and you swallow harshly. “You’re an asshole.” You decide, not hungry anymore and you turn around and march towards the second bedroom he had given you to use.
Javier sighs, feeling all the progress goes down the drain as you slam the door and he leans against the counter, looking down at the food you cooked. He washes up and puts the food in the fridge, sighing your name as he wonders what to do now. He needs you to trust him for this to work. He decides to call Steve and see how things are going with the passport situation.
You don’t come out of the bedroom until you hear him leave the apartment again. Sighing as you come out to find that he had cleaned up the kitchen and put everything away. The clothes he had bought are neatly stacked on the counter.
Javier sits in the bar, smoking his cigarette, and the woman walks past. His eyes trail along her figure but he finds the usual fire he feels absent. Usually he’d be chasing her but now, all he can think about is you. He met with Steve in an abandoned parking lot, discussing the details and timeline on the passport for you. Steve narrowed his eyes at him, asking if he liked you, to which Javi vehemently shook his head. Now, he’s giving you space and he knows he has to go home soon to check on you.
Biting your lip, you look at the closed door that is leading to his bedroom. You haven’t been in there before, but now you want to see what this man is like. Walking over to it, you push the door opened and step inside.
Javier downs the rest of his drink and the woman stands at the bar making eyes at him. He smirks at her and winks but walks straight past her to head home. He hasn’t slept with anyone since you arrived because he didn’t want anyone to see you and he has to keep up appearances that you’re his sex toy. It’s been a while for a man who uses sex to process his emotions. He heads out the door and makes his way home, eager to see you and make amends.
You find his room to be really tidy for a man. His bed is neatly made and his dirty clothes are in a basket. All in all, the room is devoid of anything personal. Which makes you wonder even more about him. About why he is working with Escobar.
Javier comes down the hall of the building and quickly unlocks the door. You clearly don’t hear him because he finds you in his room, the door open, and he can’t help but confront you. “What are you doing in my room?”
“Trying to find out who you are.” You don’t even try to lie, you don’t need to. Closing the beside drawer, you stand up straight. “What I’ve found, is that you are either the most unsentimental man on the planet, or you are here - working for Escobar - for a reason.
He appreciates you not lying to him and he knows he hasn’t told you anything. Maybe now is the time to tell you. “Come have a drink with me and I’ll tell you who I am.” He says, jerking his chin towards the door and he makes his way out into the living room and over to the bar cart.
He’s not yelling at you, or demanding you get out of his room and it puts you at ease more than anything else. Following him quietly and sitting down on the couch while he pours you both drinks.
Javier hands you the drink before he comes over to sit next to you on the sofa. He’s torn on telling you but he also thinks you deserve to know the truth now. He trusts you. He knows you aren’t working for Escobar otherwise his door would’ve been pushed down by now and a bullet in his chest. “I, uh, I don’t work for Escobar. Well, I do but…I’m actually a DEA agent and I am undercover working to take down Escobar and his cartel.” He reveals, deciding to cut straight to the truth.
Your eyes widen and your jaw drops open. What you had expected, you don’t know, but it wasn’t that he was a DEA agent. “I- are you for real?” You demand. “A fucking DEA agent? You must have been laughing at me when I said that the agency was close to catching Escobar?”
Javier shakes his head, “I wish we were closer. I wasn’t - I wasn’t original assigned to do this but I have to take him down. That’s why- it’s why I had to pretend that I was gonna abuse you. That’s what they expect of me and if I didn’t do that, I would’ve been found out.” He says with a sigh, taking a sip of his drink.
You stare down at your drink and sigh. “So the DEA knows Escobar is kidnapping women and trafficking them?” You ask quietly. “Good. Motherfucker needs to pay for what he did to me, to my friends.”
Javier nods, “he’s gonna pay. For all of it. He’s gonna be taken down and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make sure he pays for what he’s done.” Javier promises, “I’m just - I’m sorry you’ve gotten tangled up in this. That you’re stuck here with me.” He finishes with a murmur.
“Out of everyone Escobar could have given me to, I’m glad it’s you.” You admit quietly. “I could have been really screwed.” You snort at your pun. “Literally.” It’s better to joke about it now, to break the tension. Even if there’s nothing funny about what could have happened. “So now you don’t have to pretend with me anymore.”
Javier nods, "I am glad I don't have to pretend anymore, sweetheart. I - my pa would kill me for lying to a beautiful woman." He chuckles softly, looking down at his glass, sloshing the liquid.
Your brow raises at the words he uses. “You think I’m beautiful?” You ask in surprise. “I- I didn’t think that you- you never- I-“ you break off and just shrug.
He sighs and shakes his head, "I didn't want you to think that I wanted to save you because I wanted you to - you know. That was what I saved you from. You're gorgeous and I - I gotta tell you, sweetheart, I ain't got the best reputation around town. I, uh, a lot of sicarios spend their time in the brothels and...so do I."
“Do you beat the women?” You ask seriously. “Abuse them? You once told me that you like your women willing and eager to fall into bed with you. Is that true?”
He shakes his head immediately, "no. Shit. No. I don't - I pay them well. They give me intel and I, uh, I make sure they enjoy the time they spend with me. I haven't been since you got here." He confesses, biting his lip.
“Because of me….” You bite your lip and you can’t help how that makes you feel. Almost proud that he’s not been with anyone else. “Is that because you don’t want them to know you aren’t touching me?”
“Partly. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I didn't want to make you feel awkward and I didn't want to leave you alone for too long. And...and because none of them interest me since you've arrived."He admits, his dark eyes flicking up to yours as he worries about your reaction.
“Do I interest you?” You ask softly, afraid that you’re reading too much into this and wait for him to tell you no. The nod is so subtle, you almost miss it, but it’s there. He wants you. You look down at your drink and set it down on the coffee table. “I’m going to go into your bedroom.” You announce as you stand up, “come in two minutes from now.”
His eyes widen slightly and he swallows down the rest of his whiskey when you disappear into his bedroom. He rubs his hands on his jeans, Adam's apple bobbing with nerves. He is used to paying a woman for sex. You are different. You want him, actually want him, and he holds your life in his hands. He wants to keep you safe from everything...including him. Yet he can't deny what he wants. He wants you. Standing up, he waits another thirty seconds before he makes his way into his bedroom.
Inside his bedroom, you strip down to nothing. Aware that he could reject you or end up being a far different lover than what you’ve imagined but you have to take the risk. You want to feel alive for the first time since this entire ordeal started and ironically, you’ll achieve that by fucking the man you had been given to. Except you are in charge of your body, and you want him to touch you. You kneel down on the bed and look at the door when it opens.
Javier inhales deeply when he sees you naked and kneeling on his bed. Christ, you're gorgeous. He slowly walks over to the bed, his cock twitching in his jeans, and he reaches out to gently grip your chin, making you look at him. "Tell me what you want, hermosa." He orders softly, wanting to hear you say it before he goes any further.
It’s so strange to hear his voice in English after hearing it for days in Spanish. You bite your lip and turn your head to kiss his palm. “I’ve imagined you touching me. Making me cum.” You admit when you nuzzle back into his hand. “I want you to tell me your real first name so I can cry that out when I cum.”
He nods, pleased that you want him to make you cum. It’s what he’s imagined since you arrived. “Javier. My name is Javier but you can call me Javi.” He tells you, caressing your cheek until his hand slides down to your neck. He squeezes it gently and slides it lower until he’s cupping your breast. “Eres hermosa.” He murmurs, “I’ve thought about you in my bed.” He confesses, “thought about making you cry out my real name.” He squeezes your breast before he pinches your nipple.
You gasp out in pleasure at the sudden, brief burst of painful bliss. It’s just the right amount of roughness that you would enjoy anytime but especially right now. “J-Javi.” You whimper, already struggling to keep your eyes open so you can watch him touch you. “Do what you imagined to me.” You beg softly
He groans softly, letting go of your breast to cup your cheek again and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. Pushing you back on the bed as he shifts to hover over you. Managing to kick his shoes off as he straddles your naked body, his tongue sliding into your mouth.
There’s something intoxicating about his clothed body grinding against yours. Enjoying the rough feel of his jeans against your thighs and core when he presses a leg between yours. His shirt is hanging down and you capture it, starting to unbutton it to feel his hot skin underneath your fingers as you kiss.
He’s already drunk on you. Groaning into your mouth as you fumble to undo his shirt and his hand slides down to squeeze your tit again. Unable to stop himself, he pulls away from your mouth, kisses down your neck, and takes your nipple into his mouth.
"Ohhhh fuck." you toss your head back against the pillows and whine at the sensation of his hot mouth against your nipple. HIs tongue running over it again and his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin. "That's- so good." you pant out, running your fingers through his hair and tugging on it lightly.
He groans into your skin, switching over to your other breast, and his tongue soothes the flesh after he bites down. Your moans and gasps have him throbbing in his pants and he shifts to continue kissing down your body, his tongue dipping into your belly button before he shifts to spread your thighs with his shoulders. Breathing you in, he gets a good look at your dripping wet cunt.
"Are you- you do that?" You ask breathlessly, lifting your head and looking down at him in shock. It was rare to find a man willing to even get close to a cunt with his face, but he seems almost eager. "You don't have to- I know that I'm wet enough."
Javier looks up at your confused expression and he snorts, “baby. I love pussy. I love burying my face in a pussy. I wanna bury my face in this pussy.” He says and surges forward to slide his tongue through your folds, groaning as your tangy taste hits his taste buds.
You whine, toes curling up and digging into the sheets underneath you. "Oh fuck!" you cry out, unable to believe that this man has his tongue sliding through your folds with an eagerness that would have you believing the women he paid were actually paying him. "Oh fuck, Javi."
He grins against your wet flesh, his fingers grabbing your thighs to push them back so he can push his tongue deep inside of you. The way you cry out has him grinding into the mattress and he’s glad he has his jeans on still.
Javi doesn’t just lick you to show that he will eat pussy, he licks you like it’s his only purpose. Thoroughly taking you apart one sharp flick of his tongue at a time, with his nose pressed against your mound and his hot breath puffing against your cunt.
Javier groans, loving your breathlessly whimpers and cries of his name, cries of nothing as you react to his tongue. He’s determined to hear you cum, to fall apart on his tongue. He wants to hear your pleasure. He closes his eyes for a second until you tug on his hair and he hisses into your pussy, dark eyes opening to meet yours.
“You like that?” You get your answer when you tug on his hair again and he groans into your folds again. Making you smirk slightly as you loosen your grip. “Make me cum.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard, and he needs you to fall apart beneath his tongue. His fingers press into your thighs as he spreads you further open for him.
Your thighs fall open for him. Willing to let him get as deep as he wishes if he continues to touch you like this. One hand buries itself back into his longer hair and the other grips the sheets tight. “Javi- oh- oh Jaaaaaavvviiiii!” You squeal when the next suck makes you fall over the edge and you shake in pleasure.
He works you through it, loving the way your thighs shake and you squeal his name. It almost makes him cum. He laps at your essence, loving the tangy taste as he eagerly drinks up every drop while he works you through your pleasure until you’re pushing his head away when it becomes too much for you.
“Oh fuck.” Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath but you want him to kiss you. Tugging gently on his hair and his shoulder, you urge him to crawl up your body. “Kiss me, fuck, I need you to kiss me.”
He can’t deny you anything. He crawls up your body, groaning your name as he wastes no time pressing his lips to yours. His tongue pushes into your mouth as he settles between your thighs again, grinding into you.
Your fingers slide down to the belt around his waist. Needing to strip him down and feel him. Unbuckling the clasp and flicking open the button. “Shit…” you hiss, reaching down and discovering he doesn’t wear underwear.
Javier grunts when you reach in to pull his cock out. He’s hard for you, aching really after jerking off so many times in the shower to thoughts of you. “Fuck baby. You feel too damn good. You want me to fuck you?” He asks gruffly, his cock twitching in your tight grip.
“Fuck, Javi, you- yessssss.” You moan. Your cunt clenches every time he twitches and he’s thick enough that you will feel him after you’re done. “I want you to fuck me. Take your pants off and slide inside me.”
He nods, shifting off of the bed to push his pants down. He kicks them aside and his cock bounces as he walks over to the nightstand to get a condom out. He wants to make sure you’re protected, even from him. He rips it open and rolls it down his cock, shifting to kneel on the bed. “You sure you want me inside if you?” He asks, wanting to make sure you fully consent.
You spread your legs wider, nodding. “Fuck yes.” You moan. “Fuck me. Please fuck me.” You aren’t above begging at this point. You’ve cum, but you really want to see what he looks like when he falls apart.
He nods, shuffling closer between your thighs and he grips his cock, swiping it through your folds. He groans at the heat of you as he notches himself at your entrance and his eyes meet yours as he pushes inside of you. Slow, not wanting to hurt you. He shifts to press his weight onto his forearms as he hovers over you.
Your mouth drops open as he slowly fills you. Enjoying the slight pinch and the fullness he gives you. “Oh fuck, Javi.” You moan, eyes fluttering close and you slide your hand up his shoulder to pull him down for a kiss. “Move.”
He doesn’t disobey you. He kisses you as he starts to move, slowly pulling out of you and he pulls back to watch your face as he pushes back into you. “Want you to enjoy this. Every second. You tell me what you need.” He demands, rocking inside of you, a slow pace at first to let you get used to him.
“Want to feel you for days.” You whimper, wrapping your legs around him. “Fuck me hard. Like you would one of the other women you fuck.”
He shakes his head, “you’re not like the other women. You deserve more. You are more.” He says softly, his dark eyes sincere as he looks at you with something close to love but it’s not. Not yet. He starts to move again, rocking into you.
You don’t argue, you can’t when he’s moving inside you. Sensual with just a bit of roughness, it’s perfect. Making you moan every time his hips hit yours.
He loves hearing you moan. He leans down to kiss along your neck, his hips grinding against yours. He’s not as rough as he could be, not wanting to be the man the other sicarios thought he’d be with you. He wants to be soft and sensual. “Hermosa.” He murmurs against your neck, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”
There is a tenderness to his kisses on your skin that makes your eyes water. This man is truly better than anything you could have ever hoped for. Your arms tighten around him and your cunt squeezes him tight. “So handsome. I can’t believe that those men think you are the same as them. You aren’t.”
He doesn’t respond, knowing he’s done bad things to take down bad men, but now isn’t the time to explain that. He continues kissing along your skin, down your chest until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth. His hips move to push deep inside of you, switching the angle slightly as he tries to find that spot inside of you.
“Oh fuck- there!” You gasp out when he hits deep inside you and make your eyes fly open in pleasure. His cock hits against it again and you moan. Your fingernails dig into his skin and you scratch lightly, not wanting to draw blood.
With a groan, he focuses on that spot and he loves the way your nails dig into his back. His cock twitches inside of you and he shifts his weight onto one arm so he can snake his hand between you. He rubs your clit with his thumb, eyes on you to see what you like.
“Oh fuck.” Your mouth drops open in a moan before you close your eyes and your body arches up to his touch. “So good, fuck, you’re so good.” You whine. “We- we should have been doing this from the beginning.”
Javier groans in agreement, “yes but I didn’t want - I wanted you to trust me.” He says, kissing your sternum, “only want you to trust me.” He murmurs, “and now I want you to cum for me.” He rubs your clit a little faster, needing to feel and hear you cum.
“Oh yes, yesssss.” You whimper, feeling your entire body start to tense for your coming orgasm. Knowing that it’s only going to be a few seconds before you come apart underneath him and your breath catches in your throat.
Javier groans as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him and he knows he’s already addicted to you. He fucking loves it. He loves making you feel this way. He rocks you through it until you relax beneath him then he pulls out. “Hands and knees, baby.” He orders, wanting to make you cum again.
You can't believe that he's not already cum. Most guys don't last longer than a few minutes and you've already cum. The fact that he's still going has you moaning even as he's guiding you onto your stomach and pulling you up to your knees. Looking over your shoulder, you grin. "Smack my ass." You order, wiggling it at him. "I did go through your room."
Javier chuckles, “you’re a naughty girl.” He rubs your ass cheek before his palm comes down on it, smacking you hard. You moan and his cock twitches. He grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance when you lean forward to wiggle your ass. He’s not gentle this time when he pushes into you with a groan.
"Oh fuck!" You choke out when your entire body lurches forward at the thrust of his cock. Punching deep and filling you completely with one harsh thrust. "More." You moan as soon as you can draw another breath. "Fuck me, Javi."
He doesn’t deny you. Grabbing your hips, his nostrils flaring as he starts to fuck you hard. His fingers digging into your skin as he grinds him cock deep inside of you. “Feel good?” He asks, wanting to make sure you’re enjoying this.
"Godddddd yes." You moan when he pushes deep again. "So good." Your head drops down to hang between your shoulder blades and you move down to your elbows. Letting him get even deeper with ever thrust of his hips.
He caresses your back as you shift forward before he smacks your ass with both hands, squeezing the cheeks. His thumb pushes between your cheeks to press against the puckered hole, groaning at the way it flutters with each push inside of you. Christ, he’s fucking drunk on you. The way you feel around him.
"Oh my god." Your eyes flutter wide and then you relax into the sensation of him pushing against that other hole easily. If anyone would breach you there, you would let it be him. "Fuck, Javi, whatever you want, please, just don't stop."
Hearing you say that has him nearly cumming but he holds back, slowly down a little. He likes that you trust him so much. He bends over, letting his spit dribble down between your cheeks so he can press his thumb into your hips while his cock continues moving inside of you.
You whimper when his pace changes, slowing down and you feel. every throbbing vein in his cock scrubbing against your walls. "Oh fuck." You whine, trying to push your hips back, but he as you pinned with his body. "So good."
He loves hearing you moan like this. “You’re doing so well, hermosa. Want you to cum for me again. Want you to soak my cock again.” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder as he leans over you. He’s slow but he wants you to feel all of him.
You grunt as he presses deeper. Feeling like he's pushed up into your throat at this angle. You choke out a moan and clench down around him. "I- just like that." You beg, loving how he's pushing deep.
He keeps the same pace and thrust, wanting to hear and feel you fall apart again. He groans softly when your walls clench around you he him as he pushes his thumb into your ass. “That’s it, baby girl. You gonna be good and cum for me?” He asks, voice raspy and deep with his own pleasure.
It shouldn’t affect you that bad. The way his voice dips down and his words twist in your stomach. “Yes.” You whine, tanging your fingers into the sheets. “Fuck, yes, I’m your good girl. I’m gonna cum.”
“Jesus.” He hisses at your words, his entire body vibrating with desire for you, and he pants as you grind back against him. “That’s it, hermosa. Thats it baby. Cum for me. Cum for me.” He pleads roughly and finally, you cry out. Your body shaking as you clamp down on his cock again and he thrusts into you, trying desperately to hold on but he pulls his thumb out and drags you up against his chest. His grunts in your ear as he picks up the pace, thrusting into you like a jackhammer as he gets closer to his own orgasm.
“Ja-Ja-Javiiiiiiiiiiii!” You squeal as he ramps up the pace, fucking into you roughly and you love it. Taking the harsh thrusts and knowing that the ache in your cunt will last beyond cleaning up. “Cum- cum in me.” You beg, even though you know he’s got a condom on. You still want to feel him fall over the edge. “Cum for me.”
He grunts, jaw clenched as his arm wraps around you and he squeezes your tit in his other hand. “Shit. Shit.” He pants as he thrusts fast and hard until he comes to a stop. A strangled groan escaping his lips as he pulses and fills the condom deep inside of you. His teeth sinking into your shoulder as he squeezes you close to his sweaty body.
The sharpness of his teeth make you clench around him again, milking his cock even more as you feel him ride out his high. “That’s it, baby.” You coo softly, turning your head and pressing your lips to his cheek.
He seeks out your lips, pressing his to yours and he slides his tongue into your mouth. His hands caressing your stomach down to your hips as you both take a second to enjoy your orgasms. He pecks your lips and lets go of you to reach down and grip the base of the condom before he slowly pulls out of you.
When he pulls out of you, your body melts into the bed. Slumping down and you huff out a chuckle as you try to catch your breath. “Holy shit.”
He quickly ties off the condom and leans down to kiss along your back as you recover. “Damn right.” He chuckles softly and shuffles off of the bed. He grabs his jeans and pulls them on before he walks into the bathroom to grab a wet rag to clean you up and then he tosses that onto the side when he settles down on the bed, leaning against the mattress. He reaches into the nightstand to grab his smokes and he wastes no time in lighting one.
You turn to look at him, stealing the cigarette and taking a drag. “Are you ready to go back to your real life?” You ask him seriously. You know that if he’s undercover, he has to be under a lot of pressure.
Javier sighs as he exhales the smoke. “I don’t even know what my real life is. All I know is that I need to take down Escobar. Nothing else matters except that. And I gotta get you home.” He adds, raising his eyebrows at you before he takes the cigarette back to take another drag.
“That’s comforting.” You snort, swinging your leg over his thighs and straddling him. “You will take him down.” You predict softly. “and until I go home, I’ll make sure this apartment is very….relaxing for you.” You promise with a grin, leaning down and kisses him right after he inhales the smoke.
He smirks and playfully nips your chin, shifting to snub out his smoke in the ashtray on the nightstand. “Yeah? Gonna make sure I have a nice warm pussy for when I’m coming home all cold and lonely?” He asks, his hands coming up to caress your waist.
“You fuck me like that?” You huff, grinding down on him. “You’re damned right. Freshly shaved and dripping for you.”
Javier clicks his tongue, “not bothered about the shaving. I’m a man of the 70s, baby. I ain’t afraid to get down and dirty.” He smirks and slides his hands lower to squeeze your ass. “You enjoy it?” He asks, licking his lower lip as he leans back to look at you, wanting an honest answer. He hasn’t paid you to moan for him. He wants to make sure you enjoyed it.
"Loved it." You admit easily, smirking down at him and cradling his face so you can kiss him again. It's fucking astonishing to find a man who is as good as he is under these circumstances. You should be terrified of him touching you, but you can't wait until he is wrecking you again. "Want to do it again. When you can."
Javier chuckles softly, caressing your skin. “I’m not eighteen anymore, baby. Gimme a while. Doesn’t mean I can’t get you off in the meantime.” He smirks and slides his hand lower until he’s cupping your pussy. You whimper and he rubs your clit, “God, you’re still so wet.” He murmurs, shifting to push two fingers inside of you.
“Oh fuck.” You whine, rocking onto his hand shamelessly. “You- you’re so fucking good at this.” You whimper, eyes sliding shut in pleasure. He’s not selfish and that makes you even wetter for him.
He smirks, loving the praise, and he curls his fingers deeper before pressing his thumb to your clit. “Take what you need baby. Ride my fingers.” He orders, loving the way your chest heaves and your eyes flutter shut.
This man is so sexy. You don’t know why he’s not been snatched up, because he’s also a good man despite what he says. You moan his name quietly and roll your hips down onto his hand eagerly. Wanting to obey him.
He watches you take what you want from him. Your hips grinding down on his digits and he curls them as you rock down. “That’s it baby. Take what you need. Wanna watch you cum again for me.” He murmurs, his dark eyes flicking between you and your pussy, his digits glistening when you lift up. “You’re so wet.” He murmurs again, a tinge of awe in his voice.
“You’re so sexy.” You hum, ducking your head down and nipping his jaw as you continue to rock in his hand. “Sexy, chivalrous, fuck, you turn me on with how fucking good to me you’ve been. And you’re an agent? Even sexier.”
His heart pounds at your compliments and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. His tongue slides against yours as you grind down onto his fingers and his thumb presses harder against your clit. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs against your lips, “gonna keep you safe.” He vows, “gonna make sure no one touches you except me.”
You whimper into his mouth when his tongue slides against yours once more. You believe him. If he says you will be safe, then he will protect you. Your arms wrap around his neck and you pour yourself into the kiss, wanting to make this good for him too and he seems to really like kissing.
His groan is muffled by your tongue and he isn't in a rush to make you cum. His cock is interested but he's still not fully hard. His free hand finds your breast, squeezing it and pinching the nipple as you eagerly kiss him.
Shuddering, you press yourself into his hand harder, needing more. He's completely focused on you and you don’t think anyone has ever done that for you. You nibble on his lip when you pull back slightly and moan again when he curls his fingers up.
"That's it, hermosa. Can feel how close you are. Need you to fall apart for me. Can you do that? Can you cum?" He asks, murmuring against your chin as he pushes his fingers deep, slow, hard thrusts into your weeping cunt.
“Yes.” Your gasp of pleasure is one that is purely anticipatory. Knowing that you are about to cum again, your body tensing as you move closer. “Gonna cum for you.”
"That's it. That's it." He murmurs as seconds later, you clamp down on his fingers. "Good girl. Good fucking girl." He groans, loving the way you practically soak his hand and his jeans as you shake against him.
You collapse against his chest and pant as you try to catch your breath. Your body is still quaking and his fingers are still moving, although slower than they were before. Turning your head, you kiss along his neck lazily.
He withdraws his fingers after a few moments, his wet fingers squeezing your ass as he rocks you on his hardening cock while you kiss along his neck. "Fuck baby. Want me to fuck you again? Want you to ride me." He confesses when you pull back to look at him.
“I’ll ride you.” You nod, reaching down and palming his cock through his jeans. “You have another condom?” You ask breathlessly. “Want you to sit right here and relax while I make you feel good.”
He nods, reaching over to grab a condom from the nightstand and he hands it to you. "I'm yours to do what you want, hermosa." He promises, a groan escaping his lips when you pull him out of his jeans and squeeze him.
He’s gorgeously uncut and you can’t help but slide down his body so you can take the head of his cock into your mouth. Wanting him to experience your mouth before you ride him. He moans and your tongue presses against the sensitive slit.
“Jesus Christ.” He hisses as you take him into your mouth. “Baby. God. I- fuck.” He groans when your eyes flick up to meet his. He’s a sucker for eye contact. It’s so sexy. You are so sexy. His cock twitches in your mouth and he swears he has to take a deep breath to control himself.
You want to make it good for him. Keeping your mouth soft and sensuous as you work him slightly deeper. Keeping your eyes on him since he seems to like that a lot. Your moan of approval when you taste the salty pre-cum reverberates around him and your hand starts to slowly pump the base of his cock while you bob your head.
"Fuck." He pants, reaching down to caress your cheek, "you're so fucking beautiful." He murmurs, "so fucking beautiful." He can't deny that you make him feel so much more than any other woman he's slept with in years. That scares him honestly.
You hum, sucking on him lightly and pulling off with a pop. “You want to cum down my throat, or do you want me to ride you?” You ask breathlessly. “Your choice baby.”
“Ride me.” He says, voice rough with desire as you slowly pump his cock. You nod and let go of his length. He shifts back against the headboard while you grab the condom and straddle his thighs.
Ripping the foil open, you pull out the rubber and pinch the tip while you roll it down his thick length. Making sure it’s secure, you pump him again while you shuffle forward and line your cunt up to sink down on him. Quickly taking him into your body with a loud moan of his real name.
He groans your name as you sink down onto him, his fingers finding your hips as you moan as he stretches you out. “God, baby girl. You feel so good.” He grunts, his hands sliding up to squeeze your tits as you settle onto him.
“You feel good.” You pant out breathlessly. Enjoying the hot hands on your tits as he pinches your nipples again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck Javi.” You whine, leaning back and letting your head fall back between your shoulders. “You’re so deep like this.”
He groans, his eyes flicking down to look at where he’s disappearing inside of you. “Jesus Christ, baby. You’re so good. Look so good.” He says as you lean back and he slides his hand across your stomach until he’s pressing his thumb against your clit.
“Fuck, Javi.” You whimper, your cunt clenching around him when he starts to rub small circles in your bundle of nerves. “You know every trick in the book, don’t you?”
He chuckles darkly, “had a lot of practice. Lost my virginity when I was fourteen.” He confesses while rubbing your clit a little faster. “Also, wanna see you cum. Like seeing you cum. You’re so gorgeous.” He reveals, leaning in to gently kiss along your shoulder.
“Hard not to feel gorgeous when I have your attention.” You admit with a sigh, enjoying the slight tickle of his mustache. “You should have a dozen kids by now.”
He snorts, “I’m careful. Always keep it wrapped and I haven’t had any accidents. Haven’t had anyone come forward yet. Why? You volunteering?” He asks with a smirk.
You moan softly, clenching down even as you grin. “That would be a conversation to have, wouldn’t it? Asking how you go together and having to explain that you knocked up the woman a drug dealer gave you. But she wanted you to.”
“Hell of a story.” He agrees, “I definitely don’t think you should get pregnant right now. I would have to kill every fucker in this goddamn country to protect you.” He says with a hiss.
Your brow arches up in surprise, you had expected him to laugh off your comment. Instead you hum in agreement and lean in to kiss his lips. “Agreed. The condom stays on.” You squeeze him again and bounce a little harder on his cock.
He’s a little relieved but also a little disappointed. He doesn’t deny that the idea of seeing you pregnant is tempting but it’s irresponsible. Beyond imagination. He has to keep you safe and that includes all aspects of your physicality. He groans when you bounce harder again. “Christ, baby.” He murmurs, “so fucking good.”
You can barely push out a light chuckle, so breathless from how his cock is hitting inside you. Deep and thick, he presses against all the wonderful spots that make your body tense every time you slam back down on his lap.
“That’s it. You gonna make yourself cum on my cock like a good girl?” He asks, licking his thumb again to press it to your clit as your hands press against his chest for balance. “So beautiful riding my cock like a goddamn rodeo.” He pants, “seen less professional ones in Texas.” He jokes breathlessly
“Ohhhh fuck!” You moan, jerking slightly at the pressure. “Yeah? You’re a Texas boy?” You ask, wanting to know more about him.
"Born and raised. Laredo." He reveals and he groans, "fuck. I- I need you to cum for me again, sweetheart. You - you're so fucking tight." He hisses when your walls flutter around his cock.
You whine, nodding as your hands brace on his broad shoulders. Increasing your pace until you are practically galloping on him. Moaning out his name until that last roll of your hips and your entire body stiffens and you scream his name.
He groans when you clamp down on his cock, your body putting him in a vice grip that he struggles to move within but he shifts onto his knees, your legs around his waist as he thrusts up into you. "Fuck. I- I'm gonna cum." He warns, unable to withhold like he did last time when you're so fucking tight around him and you sucking him off before. "Mierda. I - fuckkkk." He hisses as he bites down on your shoulder
You moan softly when you feel him throbbing inside you. “Thank you.” You whisper, closing your eyes and holding him close. “Thank you for caring for me, protecting me, satisfying me.” You know that it’s crazy but you turn your head and kiss his neck. “I’m falling in love with you.”
Normally, Javier would be shit scared. He would've been running for the hills hearing those words but he can't run away from you. Especially when he feels the same way, it's terrifying. To have something - someone - to lose when he's fighting for his life in this undercover mission. One wrong move and he's dead. You're dead. It puts everything on the line but in this moment, he doesn't give a fuck. He pulls back from you to look you in the eye. "I feel the same. We shouldn't. So much at risk but fuck, I love you." He murmurs, voice rough with emotion.
You know that it’s probably the proximity, that once you leave, he will never think of you again, but you smile into his neck and sigh happily. Your fingers caressing his back gently. “Good.” You hum, basking in the moment and stealing every second of joy life will give you. “That’s good, baby.”
****
A few weeks go by and you're settled in a routine. You sleep in Javier's bed at night...well, try to sleep after he fucks you. Then you spend your days reading and waiting for Javier to return home. One day, he comes back and you greet him with a kiss but he doesn't seem enthusiastic. "What's wrong?" You ask and his dark eyes look sad as he holds up the passport in his hand.
"Got your fake passport. You're booked on the first flight home in the morning." He says, swallowing harshly.
“Oh.” Your heart drops and you immediately have to look away from him, eyes watering. You don’t want to go, as crazy as that sounds. It’s dangerous and he’s undercover, so you can’t stay, but you don’t want to. “Well, I- I guess that tonight is our last night together.” You try to sound stoic but it falls flat. “You’ll be happy to not worry about me.”
Javier shakes his head, throwing the passport down on the table nearby and he grabs your waist to pull you into his chest. Burying his nose in your hair, he breathes you in. “Don’t want you to go. I want to stay here in this apartment with you and forget about the rest of the world but it’s dangerous here, hermosa. I can’t lose you and if something happened - fuck - no. You need to go. You need to be safe and I’m gonna try to take that bastard down.”
“You will take him down.” Javi has been opening up to you, finding it cathartic to have someone know that he’s not the monster that the men he is with are. Your arms hold him tight and you try not to cry. “You will, just like you kept me safe.”
He kisses your hair before he kisses your forehead. His nose nudges yours and he tilts your head up to press his lips to yours. He needs to know you’re safe. It’s more important than his love for you. He can love you from afar. He doesn’t want to love you from a grave site. He deepens the kiss, suddenly getting urgent with need for you as he pushes you up against the wall, his tongue sliding into your mouth.
You feel the change in the mood, from sad to desperate and you understand completely. If you are leaving, you want this time with him, you need it. The chances are that you will never see him again. Your hands move, desperately ripping open his button on the shirt he is wearing, scattering them across his apartment.
He groans into your mouth, practically devouring you, and he drags the dress you’re wearing up your body, reluctantly pulling back to pull it over your head and it’s soon on the floor. No words are spoken as he kisses your neck and cups your tits, glad you have taken to not wearing a bra in his apartment.
Your fingers push the stretched fabric of his shoulders and let it fall, attacking his belt next. He doesn’t wear underwear, so the second you can, you are wrapping your fingers around his cock and moaning when you find him already hard.
“Shit.” He hisses as you squeeze his cock and his fingers hook in your panties. He isn’t patient. He can’t wait to push them down so he’s ripping them from your body with a groan. “Fuck. Need you.” He rasps, grabbing your thighs to lift you up against the wall. “Put me in.” He orders, his cock throbbing in your grip.
You whimper his name, finding his need for you utterly intoxicating and you notch his cock against your entrance eagerly. Gasping when he doesn’t hesitate to bury himself to the hilt. No gentleness, just pure need.
He’s driven by desire, love, and desperation. He doesn’t want to lose you but he can’t be selfish. You deserve to feel safe and you need to go home. He can’t follow you and he can’t let everything he’s worked so hard for you down the drain. He groans your name and leans in to press his lips against yours as his body keeps you pressed against the wall until he starts to move his hips.
You whimper his name, clinging to him like he’s going to disappear if you let go. “I’m yours.” You promise raggedly against his lips. “All yours, make me yours.”
He loves the way you cling to him. He thrusts into you, desperate and sloppy but passionate. “Mine. Like I’m yours baby. Fuck. You’re mine.”
“Yes, yours all yours.” You pant, desperate for him to know it, to believe it. His hips slam into yours and drives you into the wall to make you moan at the roughness of it. “More, baby, I need more.”
Javi groans, his fingers digging into your thighs as he works you on his cock, lifting you up and down as he pushes you into the wall. “Fuck. Tell me what you need.” He demands, “rub your clit.”
“Just you.” You squeal breathlessly, reaching down and rubbing your clit. “Just need you. Just you baby, your cock is so good. So perfect inside me. I love you.”
“Oh fuck Javi, Javi, JAVIIIIIIIII!” You scream out in pleasure when your body locks up, core clenching down around him and soaking him with your cum. Shaking against the wall while he continues to pound into you and draw out your orgasm.
He swears his heart stops when you clamp down on his cock. “Fuck yes. That’s it baby. That’s fucking it.” He growls, loving the way you grip him and soak him and he pushes deep, “fuck. I- I gotta pull out.” He murmurs, remembering he didn’t put on a condom.
“Don’t.” You whimper, wanting to feel him just once. “I’m about to start my period.” You are, you aren’t lying to him. You should be completely safe for him to fill you up this once. “Want to feel you. Keep you with me.”
He doesn’t deny you. He groans as he thrusts hard, pushing deep inside of you a half dozen more times before he cums. He pants just before he bites down on your shoulder. “Fuck. I love you” is muffled into your skin.
Your eyes roll back and you whine at the feeling that is swimming around inside you. Enjoying the heat and wetness as he paints your walls with spurts of his hot cum. “Love you too.”
He kisses everywhere he can reach. Your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, your chin, and finally your lips. “Te amo.” He chokes into your mouth, hating that he has to let you go. He’s terrified of you forgetting all about him. He loves you. He loves you more than he ever thought possible and he’s going to leave you.
“I love you too, Javi.” You can’t help but start to cry. They are silent tears, ones that just express how badly you want to stay with him. A far cry from the woman screaming to go home not so long ago. “I don’t want to eat. I just want to go to bed, baby.” You beg. “Take me to bed.”
He doesn’t pull out of you. Instead, he carries you into the bedroom and lays you down on the bed. He’s gentle, caressing your body and he pulls out of you as he shifts to lay between your thighs. He stares at the mess he made looking at your entrance, cum threatening to drip out, and he can’t help it. He surges forward to slide his tongue between your folds.
Shuddering, you moan his name while your fingers run through his hair. You’ve learned that Javi has no problem with doing what he wants and he obviously wants to touch you like this, unconcerned with his cum between your thighs. “Fuck. I love you. I don’t want to go.”
He pulls back for a moment to say “I don’t want you to go but you have to.” He dives back in a few moments later, his tongue ravenous and carving indistinct paths while he tries to memorize every tiny detail about you.
Your moans fill the room, soft and sweet. He’s taking his time, not rushed a bit as if you have all the time in the world rather than just tonight. He reaches up and twines his fingers with yours, holding your hand as he continues to take you apart with his tongue.
He wants to burn your moans into his memory, carve your taste into his tongue, he needs to remember every single detail about you before he lets you go to return to safety. He’s slow and methodical as he pulls you apart stroke by stroke, uncaring of the salty taste of his cum combined with your tangy juices that make him go crazy.
You’re there forever, legs spread while he feasts. Time seems to suspend into nothing and your breath catches and never recovers. Making every moment drag out as your body burns and twists on itself until your orgasm snaps through you, sharp and bright, cunt gushing all over his face when he presses his thick fingers deep into your walls.
Javier groans into your clit, loving how you are clamping down on his digits. "Fuck baby. That's it." He murmurs into your flesh as you shake above him. He works you through, his fingers squelching with your combined cum.
Panting, you try to close your legs, overstimulated and nearly sobbing from the pleasure. He kisses your thigh and grins up at you. “Want another?” He asks and you shake your head. “I just want you.”
He snakes up your body, kissing every inch of skin he passes, until he is pressing his lips to yours. "I love you, hermosa." He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours as he settles beside you and pulls you into his side.
“I love you too.” You sigh softly, your hand splayed over his heart and you kiss his chest. “I know you won’t be able to call me, but I’ll be thinking about you. Hoping you’re safe. Praying you are.” You know he can’t promise you anything, this is just a flash in the pan for him, and he will go back to his normal life after he catches Escobar. “You’ve saved my life, Javier.”
He sighs, “I did what was right. I have fucked up a lot on my life but I couldn’t let you be abused or worse. You were something special from the moment I saw you. I’m just - all I ask is that when you get home, you’re happy. Be happy.” He pleads softly, wanting to know that this hasn’t all be in vain.
You want to tell him that you won’t be happy unless you are with him, but you can’t. Not when it’s not what he wants to hear. “I will, Javi.” Reaching up, you caress his cheek. “I can be happy because of you, amor.”
Javi’s dark eyes meet yours and he swallows harshly, “good.” He murmurs and brushes his lips against yours. All he wants is for you to be safe and happy…even if that isn’t with him.
****
Javier glances around the airport, worried that a sicario or two have followed him. Steve is in the terminal with another agent to make sure he has back up just in case. Your passport was accepted without question and won’t be flagged by one of the informants for Escobar who works at the airport. He bites his lip as he sets your suitcase down at the gate. Your eyes are already watery and he fights the instinct to just take you back home but he can’t. You have to go.
“This is it.” You bite your lip, aware that you shouldn’t cry but you can’t even help it. You’re doing good not bawling your eyes out. Glancing around the airport, no one seems to be watching you, but you look back at Javi. “Can I kiss you?” You plead softly. “One more time? Or is it not safe?” The last thing you want to do is to put him in danger, but you can’t imagine boarding this plane without kissing him goodbye.
Javier can’t deny you. Hell, he can’t deny himself. He reaches for you, grabbing your waist to drag you against him. His lips immediately find yours and he groans into your mouth as he pours every thing he’s felt for you into this last kiss. He doesn’t care if anyone is watching. He needs to do this, he needs you to know how he feels.
It’s a goodbye kiss. A kiss that is desperate and yearning and bittersweet. The saltiness of your tears mixes with the whiskey and nicotine from Javi’s tongue. You hold him close and kiss him back just as desperately until you are unable to think about anything but him.
He isn’t sure how long he kisses you, but soon the tannoy announces that your flight is about to board. He pulls back, pecking your lips, and he leans back to look at you, his hands caressing your waist. “It’s time to go, baby.” He says, letting go of you and your hands clench in the air as if to keep holding him. His heart is pounding in his chest but he has to let you go. “Be good. Be happy.” He demands softly, kissing your forehead as your row is called.
Walking away from Javier is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. Looking back at him until you can’t see him anymore, you bite back a sob as you collapse into your seat. You’re free, but at what cost when you are separated from the man you love?
****
It’s been a year and Javier has no clue if you’ve moved on. Maybe you’ve found a new guy. You could be married. The thought makes his stomach twist but he’s here. He tracked you down using his contacts and he’s here to see if you still feel the same way. He does. The former Casanova of Bogotá has been celibate since you left, wanting to focus on taking down Escobar. He fucked up. Got involved with Los Pepes and got sent home before he could take down Escobar but he’s here and he doesn’t want to focus on his failure. He swallows harshly and takes a deep breath before he rings your doorbell.
You sigh as you hear the doorbell, looking over at the door and contemplating not answering but you can’t do that. Wiping your hands on the kitchen towel, you walk over to the door and flip the lock to open the door. Since you’ve been back, you’ve settled back into life with only a few hiccups. Memories of your time in Colombia are now bittersweet, the good far overshadowing the bad.
Javier shifts from one foot to the other as you open the door and he offers you a half smile. “Hola hermosa.” He says, fingers flexing as he prepares for your reaction.
Eyes wide, your mouth drops open in shock. You never expected to see Javier again. Not really. You had convinced yourself it was that Stock-ham, whatever, you had read about. That it was just a fling for him and that you had imagined yourself in love with him. One sentence, two words from the man, a year later would prove that was a lie. “Javi!”
He stares at you, heart pounding as he prepares himself for your reaction until you fling yourself forward and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. He groans into your mouth, loving how you feel in his arms, pulling you so close you can barely breathe.
You don’t care that it’s been a year. That you haven’t heard from him and that you’ve wondered if he’s been dead or alive this entire time. Scouring the news for any information about Escobar and the entire ordeal down in Colombia.
He kisses you over and over until finally he pulls back and looks at you with love in his eyes. “You been good?” He asks and you nod, still speechless that he’s found you. “I, uh, I got sent home. Fucked up and got involved with the wrong people but I’m here and I- I still love you.”
“I can’t believe you are here.” When you find your tongue, you’re reaching out. Touching him in disbelief and for one horrible moment, you are convinced it’s a dream. “I’ve missed you. So much. You really still love me? It wasn’t just….circumstance?”
Javier reaches for your wrist, kissing your pulse. "I still love you. I haven't - I haven't been with anyone since you left. I fought hard to get Escobar so I could come home and find you." He admits, "I love you. I still love you."
“Oh baby.” You whimper quietly, melting against him. “I love you too. I never stopped, I couldn’t stop. You- you are the love of my life and I’m grateful Escobar gave me to you.”
Javier cups your cheeks and nudges his nose against yours. “I’m here baby. I’m here and I ain’t leaving. I love you.” He murmurs, closing his eyes as he breathes you in.
****
“Fuck Jav.” You moan as your hips rock up to meet his mouth. It’s early, the sky just changing colors with the rising sun, and Javi woke up eager to have you. He’s been at your home ever since he got back from Colombia. He took you to Texas to go to Danny’s wedding and to meet his Pa. He even got his mom’s ring from his dad but you don’t know that yet. His fingers curl deep inside of you as he sucks on your clit and the phone starts to ring. “Shit.” You hiss, trying to push his head away but he pulls back to growl “leave it.”
You pant, “it might be - fuck - important. It’s early.” You tell him but he ignores you, focusing again on making you cum. The phone rings again, “Javi.” You whine, hand reaching for the receiver but he slaps it down with his free hand, silently telling you to leave it again. His fingers push deeper and he can tell you’re close. His digits curl just right and you clamp down, crying out his name just as the phone rings again. He works you through it as much as he can before he’s pulling his soaked fingers out of you and grabbing the phone from the cradle. “Why the fuck are you calling so early?” He growls down the phone without asking who it is.
“Agent Peña.” The official voice makes him sit up. “Yeah?” He asks, voice raspy.
“The Cali Cartel. It’s time. You’re reassigned back to Colombia. I’ll call later with your flight details.” The line goes dead and he stares at it, unable to respond or say anything at all.
“What-“ you sit up and frown as he stares at the phone. “Baby, who was that?” You ask, worried that something is wrong. You know they’ve captured Escobar, Javi had gotten the news from Steve, getting drunk that night and pulling you apart for hours as fucked through his emotions.
Javier swallows, setting the phone back down and he closes his eyes for a second, unable to look at you. “I’ve been reassigned. They want me back in Colombia to take down Cali.” He reveals, his heart aching.
You hear it in his tone, he wants to go. “Oh.” Pulling the sheet over your body, you sit up, watching him start to pull away from you. “Then you have to go.” You decide, pushing away your own heartache. “They are giving you a second chance, to do it right this time. You have to go.”
Javier is torn. He wants to do it right. Take down Cali the right way and redeem himself. Yet he also doesn’t want to lose you. “I- I don’t know.” He confesses, knowing you won’t wait for him again. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Javi.” You cup his cheeks and press your lips to his. “You go to Colombia and you do what you need to do.” You tell him softly. “You want to go….so go.”
“I don’t want - I can’t leave you. I don’t want to be gone and come back to find you’ve moved on. I know we love each other but I can’t ask for you to wait for me again. I want…I want you to come with me.” He says, even though he knows the risks. He can protect you.
“W-What? Come- come with you?” You hadn’t even considered it a possibility. “The DEA would let you bring me? How?” You can’t imagine they would want to have some random civilian in the country and possibly in danger.
He nods, "Steve brought Connie. She - she was a civilian." He explains, "I don't want to lose you." He confesses, "Do you want to come with me?"
“Connie’s Steve’s wife.” You remind Javi softly. “Of course I want to come with you, but I don’t think the DEA will let you bring your girlfriend.” You admit. “You aren’t going to lose me.”
He swallows harshly, knowing you’re not wrong. “They might not let me bring my girlfriend but they’d let me bring my fiancée.” He says and you frown, “fiancée?” He sighs, opening the bedside table to grab the velvet box he had hidden in there. “I was going to take you to dinner on Friday. Make it romantic but - but I don’t want to wait.” He confesses and your eyes widen. He shifts to kneel at the edge of the bed in front of you. “You came into my life so unexpectedly and I- I don’t regret saving you from Escobar. You were the missing piece of me that I didn’t know was gone. You make me so damn happy and I know I’m bad with words but I love you with every fiber of my being. I’d do anything to keep you safe, to make you happy. Will you marry me?” He asks, opening the box.
“Jav- I-“ your throat closes as your eyes fill with tears, looking down at your love on his knee as he asks you to marry him. “Yes! Yes! Yes! I will marry you.” Launching yourself forward, you crash into him, needing to kiss him once more to remind you that this isn’t a dream.
He kisses with a smile on his lips, pouring every ounce of love he feels for you into the kiss. He pulls back after a second to get the ring out of the box. He remembers proposing to Lori and he didn’t really feel much at the time, doing it out of obligation. Right now, he’s asking you to marry him because he loves you with all of him. He takes the ring out and takes your shaking hand, sliding the ring onto your left hand.
“It’s beautiful, amor.” You gasp, looking down at the ring in awe. It really is beautiful, but beyond that, it’s the realization that Javi wants to spend the rest of his life with you. “I love it and I love you.” You promise, leaning in to kiss him again. “My fiancé.”
****
Javier looks out across the ocean, the sun is about to set and he clears his throat as the breeze makes the linen shirt he’s wearing blow up slightly. “She’s here.” The officiant announces and Javier exhales shakily, turning away from the water to see an even more exquisite sight.
God, you take his breath away. Walking towards him wearing a white sundress, he swears his heart is about to pound out of his chest. When you stand before him, he reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “You look gorgeous, baby.” He murmurs when he stands up straight but keeps your hand in his.
“I didn’t know you were such a romantic.” You admit, amazed by the beautiful, small wedding he had insisted on. It was gorgeously simple and yet the pinks and oranges streaking across the sky is something that could have never been replicated in a fancy church somewhere. “I love you so much.”
Javier smiles, “I love you too.” He takes your hands as you stand beside him and the officiant begins the ceremony. His stomach is twisting but not with nerves, it’s butterflies and excitement. Knowing that after this, you’ll be his wife. He never imagined he’d settle down but you changed that for him. He can’t imagine a day without you now. He squeezes your hands when you recite the vows and he proudly declares “I do” when asked if he wants to take you as his wife. The rest of the ceremony seems like a blur until the officiant says “you may now kiss the bride.” He surges forward to press his lips to yours, your rings shining on your finger as the sun disappears beyond the horizon. “I love you.” He murmurs into your mouth before he kisses you again.
Smiling against his lips, you sigh softly. “I love you too.” You never expected to find the love of your life when you had been kidnapped and given to one of the world’s most famous drug dealers in the world’s sicarios. It could have turned out to be your worst nightmare, but it ended up being your dream come true.
#pedro pascal#javier peña#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña x f!reader#javier peña smut#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña imagine#javier peña narcos#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier pena x f!reader#javier pena narcos
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Heyo
This is the same person that left some prompts with @2faced-fairy . One of the ones I wrote I really liked so I just wanted to see your take cuz I was kinda proud 🥲
It’s was to have CatNap and DogDay fuck you at the same time *both P in V*, their cocks tense as they rubbed against each other inside reader. But even after they both came, reader kept bouncing on them.
Please be like, really graphic about it. Skin slapping and stuff. They’re ‘trying to beg’ reader to stop, but the pleasure is just so good. And it’s so hot their lover can make them both feel so good. And with the tension of their cocks against each other?
They’re moaning like fucking pornstars.
Plz consider it I’m in love with this concept but I can’t write smut without cringe and you’re like professional and stuff :,)
Thank u I love your shit
A/N: okay this is a very erotic idea but I don’t really know how to be graphic, I’m sorry. I’ll do the best I can do, though!
“Both?”
Relationship(s): catnap x reader x dogday 🔞
Warning(s): smut
of course, you guys had talked about it before but you never expected it to happen tonight. your guys day went as normal as ever. you woke up last, your lovers had woken before you and were outside. Dogday was entertaining the kids and Catnap kinda just sat in the shade, watching. you could tell he loved the orphans just as much as you all did. he was just.. what’s the word? misunderstood, maybe?
today felt like it was going slower then usual as you sat in the classroom of Ms. Delight, watching as the kids took their test. After, they finished, you walked them out to the play area, watching everyone run in opposite directions.
For dinner, it was your night and you hated cooking for so many. but Catnap helped you. you were reaching for the flour, but you couldn’t quite reach. Catnap came behind you, pressing his body into yours as he grabbed it and handed it to you, smirking as he saw your tomato face. your cunt had began to hunger for him but you waited. you could wait. couldn’t you?..
you both finished cooking around 8:30 pm. you had the kids fed, bathed, and in bed by 10:24 pm. Dogday and Catnap walked with you to your guys’ shared home. usually staying at Dogdays since his was the biggest. you both still had your own homes but were barely there.
you laid in bed, your cunt still slick as you ignored the feeling. Catnap laid behind you and softly rubbed circles on your hips. Dogdays face was in your chest as he held your waist, looking up at you with the sweetest eyes he could muster. they were ambushing you!
Dogday had pushed himself inside, giving you a moment to compose. he and catnap were huge and to have them both inside you? that was a suicide very risky mission. you panted as Dogday finally bottomed out and you tried to get used to him. no matter how much they make you take their cocks, your always too tight. Dogday held you, lovingly, as you finally sat on his whole cock.
Catnap had came behind you, wasting no time. he repositioned you abit causing dogdays cock to move. he slowly pushed inside causing you and dogday to let out a whimper breathy moan. Dogdays dick felt heavenly, it was in the tightest piece of warmth and another piece of flesh was pushing against it.
you bounced on their cocks, harshly. the wet skin against skin sounds almost overwhelming. you could barely hear your lovers over the harsh slapping. “F—fuck, Angel— ahhh~” Dogday moaned out, his head lolling back as he came inside your womb. Catnap felt the way dogdays cock rubbed against his inside your little hole and he moaned out as the spurts of cum splashed against his cock, him instinctively shooting out his seed.
But you? you had kept bouncing, overstimulating them both. “W—wait, Angel, please slow— ah~!” “god, wait~!” They both tried to beg you to stop but you were too lost in your own world. the wet sounds coming from your conjoined body parts. the white sticky mess making strings between you threes connection. the faster you went the more they begged. catnap had begun to drool and groan. dogday had begun to cry and whimper as his body betrayed him and helped you bounce on their fat cocks.
they had cum again for the fourth time, you being on six. you finally stopped and laid against the sheets, their cocks pulling out of you. the white sticky strings still connecting their cocks to your pretty pussy. they looked at eachother and smirked. pulling you back on their cocks, which you let out a displeased noise at, not ready to cum again. they kissed each of your cheeks and held you. they just wanted to feel you, baby. just a little cock warming, okay?
A/N: I’m sorry I couldn’t make this to much in detail, im still learning , still I hope this made you happy.
TAGS: @2faced-fairy
#dogday x reader#smiling critters x reader#reader insert#reader x character#reader x crush#dogday x reader x catnap#catnap#smut#catnap x reader#dogday#dogday poppy playtime#double trouble#catnap poppy playtime
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Levi-isms translated from his heart<3
//taller!Reader, Levi can pick reader up, hcs, canonverse, so fucking sweet
1: "Are you blind? I’m busy.”
You moan in sheer agony from the doorway, and put on your best puppy dog eyes.
He scowls at you, or he might be just that tired. His eyes are so heavy it’s hard to tell the difference.
"But it's so cold and lonely without you. I’m even colder right now, as you can see.”
You’re not wearing pants.
Make the issue about him, and how important it is that he rests, and you get a scowl. Make it about you, and he stands up with frankly a bratty sigh, and runs his hand through his hair.
You smile sweetly as he nears. On the way, he undoes the top button of his pressed white shirt, giving you a glimpse of his adam’s apple.
you lean forward and kiss his cheek. "Missed you…”
He looks up at you, eyes softening, and ruffles your hair a little. "Ugh... So annoying…"
You care enough about me to lose sleep... I could never ask for something that you freely give up, and it drives me crazy. How can one person have this power over me, anyway?
2: He's too angry to even pace around the hospital tent. This fire rampages in his veins with his blood as lit gasoline.
He can't remain calm with your fingers clutched in your lap, broken, reduced to a mound of bandages that seem to captivate you; you refuse to look at him.
He tells himself that it's not necessarily you he's angry at, that yelling won’t mend broken bones—but he can’t contain himself.
"What the hell were you thinking!?” he blurts out. “Throwing yourself into harm's way isn’t fighting—it’s suicide for self-righteous fools. What will we do now that you’re useless?"
Why?? Why is it easy even for you to be taken away from me whether you devote your whole heart or not?—and you do. So I need you to be more careful. I can't be there all the time. What will I do to keep you alive from here? You'll cooperate with me, won't you?
I can’t believe this… but I don’t want you to be devoted; I want you to be safe.
3: You finish explaining your plan with an uncertain smile sent his way.
To be fair, it's quite the tall order to sneak into Hange's lab, but he can't see any holes in it. As long as you get in quick, Levi can have it cleaned before supper.
"Not bad. It just might work. But don't let it get to your head."
You're smart. Thanks for the help. But it’s not like I like you or anything…
4: "No worries." You beam. "I'll have them swept up in no time—with Mike's help too, of course."
Even if he tried, he couldn't smile at your confidence. There's never telling what will happen when it's a fight against the Titans.
He looks ahead, squinting through the wind whipping at his bangs. You're both coming up on the south end of the forest again. It's packed with trees that'd be perfect for setting up camp, if only it wasn't infested with Titans. Four separate squads are pushing in from each direction, with Levi's squad at the north where Mike smelled the most action.
It's risky... no surprise there. He doesn't have overwhelming positivity, but what he does have—en masse—is faith in you.
"Alright... Use your best judgment in there. Don't die. If there's a sign of anything you can't handle, don't be stupid to take it all on your own. Just shoot up a flare and someone will be on their way."
I'm sending you on your own, so I know that you're strong. You can take care of yourself. But still. Be careful, I love you.
5: “Quit resisting.”
“What’re you doing, arresting me??” you cackle as Levi lifts you off your feet. He even pins you over his shoulder while you cry out in laughter. “Baby, it was just a little more work…”
"Nope.” With hardly a grunt, he swings the door open that feeds into the hallway and begins the march to your quarters. “If you keep this up, no amount of caffeine is going to save you. And I won't be there to baby you when you pass out and fall on your face. You're going. I'll pick up the slack."
I don't want you to work yourself down to the bone so much that you're forced to rely on me... So take care of yourself, I'll manage the rest.
Levi masterlist | main masterlist
#a small birthday offering :)#levi x reader#levi x you#levi x y/n#levi ackerman fluff#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x you#captain levi fanfiction#captain levi x reader#captain levi x you#levi ackerman drabble#levi headcanons#levi ackerman headcanons#levi hcs#aot hcs#levi ackerman fanfiction#levi.thoughts
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。。。 FOUR, NINE, THIRTEEN 。。。
• — { omnipresent. chapter one: }
• — {warnings : mentions of suicide, dark content, no nsfw but things that could be triggering, dazai :P , bad writing, reader curses a lot, maybe some typos, etc. etc.}
• — {special thanks to : silver for helping me write + plan the plot, thank u to red and kat for taking their time to beta read, and thank u to mai for also helping with the plot ! }
• — { tagging the people who expressed interest ! @settingssun | @silverbladexyz @cheriiyaya | @kxttqi | @riiwrites + comment under this post to be tagged ! }
THE FIRST TIME Dazai Osamu met you, it was midnight. he was just walking to a bar and you were on the edge of a bridge railing, dressed in a school uniform. probably from a prestigious high school and not more than 15, he guessed when he took a better look at you.
it was raining a storm, Rain had soaked through your clothes, and your hair was drenched. Paired with the harsh wind, you must be freezing.
You were looking down at the river, a rather far away look in your eyes as you were seemingly in a dilemma, weighing two choices and-
oh.
dazai had already got the gist of what you were about to do, yet made no motion whatsoever. still and silent as a shadow, even when you took in a sharp breath and stepped off, falling down to the river’s current
a splash and you were gone forever, leaving him alone on the bridge.
now he was blankly staring at where you were mere seconds ago. not caring to even move. rooted at where he was. but several questions ran through his mind at that moment.
did you notice him staring?
it wasn’t any use thinking about it so he let it go.
the second time he encountered you, he had heard a series of gunshots then quickly headed to there. you were already dead. shot by someone he couldn’t catch.
Obviously, he was surprised to see your face but quickly collected himself, called the police, and left. finding it suspicious but quickly brushing it off his mind as he had more urgent and important matters to take care of than the measly death of someone he didn’t know.
the third time he saw you, you were crossing the street. a calico cat in your arms as you talked to it, petting its fur and a warm smile on your face.
then, you turned your head and caught sight of him, you widened your eyes seemingly in recognition, but you had ran, almost as if you were trying to escape from him.
well, dazai had tried to chase after you. But in your haste, you had failed to look at the road. tires screeched and you got hit by a car.
he had ran and reached out his hand to try and pull you away despite knowing it was futile. but it was too late. blood splattered on him, staining his hand. Not that he ever cared.
the cat was unhurt though, somehow miraculously shielded by your body. its large eyes looking into his’s before letting out a small meow then ran away. leaving you on the ground.
sirens cut through the deathly silence, medics quickly rushing out of an ambulance after a bystander called the police. arriving just a few minutes later.
He tsked, running his hand through his hair, and and slipped away from there, away from that street, never to return.
on the fourth time, he saw you again. now convinced that you were a special case, he had to find you before you were gone.
but unfortunately, he was too late again. you were a member of an rival organisation, holding important information and so was captured, interrogated, then brutally killed by one of the executive’s ability. crimson red blood pooled around your corpse before he got a chance to talk to you.
“she already told us what we needed to know already. it’s no use keeping her around.” was what ozaki said when he demanded an explanation. “best to kill them before they cause further trouble. Say, dazai, don’t tell me-?” she frowned, shooting him a small glare. sighing deeply when he shook his head no.
“I have to say, she was quite pathetic. Immediately telling us everything when we threatened the lives of her subordinates… I overestimated her.” was what she said while walking away slowly disappearing into the darkness, leaving him alone in the dim room.
it was strange, he had to admit. the fact that you died every time before he got the chance to talk to you was quite eerie. not that he could do anything about it. Then, he left you again, leaving his underlings to clean up the mess.
it happened nine times more, but instead of seeing you directly, he saw it on the news or heard it from his acquaintances. looking at your picture, you looked different in every universe but you had the same features. just enough to be recognizable.
…
He was in the agency now, a new member. And amazingly, in record time, he was already doppo kunikida’s worst nightmare.
today was his third day. how boring was this?
in short: indescribable.
he felt like a deer caught in a spotlight. Far too out of place. Dazai knew how to put on an act, one to cover his true intentions quite nicely. Not enough to fool edogawa, of course. But enough to fool everyone else.
he had listened to what odasaku had told him, be someone who saves people. he did or tried, or it would be something that he would do later. Depends, really.
…maybe one of the reasons he decided to follow through with his friend’s words was to make himself feel better. From what though?
the guilt of not being able to save you? Maybe not stopping you from dying on the first time you met?
Impossible. he was known as the demon prodigy after all when he was back in the port mafia, famous for being someone who had no remorse for murdering hundreds or committing endless heinous crimes.
How troublesome. Such emotions were an obstacle to his goals.
He tried to get rid of it. ignoring the guilt that was eating his heart away helped only a bit. But distractions helped. A few bottles of sake and his guilt would leave him for a while.
But maybe paired with the fact that he couldn’t help nor save sakunosuke oda only made it worse.
guilt was annoying. Troublesome, a nuisance. just about anything that was negative, he thinks, leaning back in his seat and ignoring the reports he has to write.
actually, all emotions were useless. Was what he thought, turning around and around.
…come to think of it, he never saw you in this universe before. nor even heard of you.
maybe you don’t even exist right now.
which is weird. since you seem to pop up randomly in every universe he’s in.
really, really, reallyyyyyyy suspicious-
“Ow!”
A book hit his head, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Get to work dazai!”
ah yes, classic kunikida. Always and forever strict and doesn’t like fun. Why were all math teachers like that? oh. even former ones. all they do is yell, scream, scold, yep math is definitely ruining the minds of everyone.
“Fineeee…these are boring though… I’ll do it later….” he whines, laying his head on his desk, drawing random shapes with his finger on the light brown wooden table.
“Just do your work already!” Kunikida yelled, clearly at his breaking point.
“Come onnnn kunikidaaaaa just let me have some funn~”
“You can have fun after work is over-“
“Aaah! sorry I'm late!”
The agency’s door bangs open, and a disheveled young woman appears.
you?
he automatically freezes, eyes widening as he feels a chill run down his spine, dazai did just a quick double check to see if his vision is finally failing him.
the same eye colour? check.
the same hair colour? check.
the same height? check.
check, check, check.
fuck
Was what Dazai thinks after mentally checking off everything. His eyebrows furrowing. it was getting even more suspicious. Normally, you would die before he got to interact with you, so isn't this practically giving him a chance to know about you? What the hell does it- does it even fucking make sense?
obviously not.
which…didn’t make things any easier.
kunikida mutters something under his breath before marching towards you, ready to give out yet another lecture. “Now why were you late?!”
“uhm…I had to work a longer shift?” you said, shifting from one foot to the other. “Uh…it also didn’t help that there were more customers than usual..?” you added, awkwardly smiling as you sweatdropped nervously.
“how many times do I have to tell you to fix your schedule?!” kunikida practically screams at you. “This has been the 5th time this month!” he stomps his foot before sighing, walking back to his seat and sitting down before checking his watch; “see? Now you’ve made me 3 minutes behind!” he groans, but promptly pushes back up his eyeglasses and opens back his computer to work.
“It wasn’t my fault- oh! new member huh? hi. want meat buns anyone?” you raise up a paper bag of warm buns, waiting for their response. instantly, almost everyone in that room raises their hand up. Except for kunikida and dazai.
“…we need to save some for president and haruno though.” Yosano reminded you as she reached into the bag for one. “i bought another bag of them, it’s fine!” you reassured her, then walked towards dazai.
“hey, you. Do you like meat buns?” you ask, before letting him having a chance to answer, you stuffed the whole bun into his mouth when you got the chance, “it’s good right?” ignoring the fact that he may be choking right now. But who cares when you have dr. yosano?
“Yep!” he replies after a while when he finished the bun, putting on a charming smile, pausing for a few moments before adding something utterly ridiculous; “would you be interested in committing a double suici-?”
“no.” you interrupted, cutting him off. hitting his head with a folder you took from kunikida’s desk. Not noticing the slight ouch he let out. “I’m far too young to die yet.” You declare, taking out a bun and apparently practically inhaling it in less than a minute.
“What’s your name by the way?” “Dazai Osamu.” “That’s a weird name.” You remark, placing back the folder. “Anyways, I’m [name].“
“no last name?”
“[name]’s surname is a mystery to everyone. only the president and ranpo know it, but apparently they wont even give a hint.” Yosano yawned stretching her arms.
“But, if you successfully guess what is her last name, you get half the money in her purse!” A random staff member chimed in.
“shut up!” you huff, “and my last name isn’t that important anyways! Besides, I’m not paying anyone for guessing my last name correctly-“
“all of you shut up! We won’t ever get any work done at this rate! Dazai, focus on your damned reports! [name]! Help organise these folders!”
kunikida hollered, now practically spitting fire. Well, to avoid trouble, everyone got to work. Expect for dazai that is. Unfortunately, he was still lazing around until you threatened to tell the president of his tardiness.
“Who knew [name] could be so strict? you really wouldn’t know her from just 3 years ago.” yosano teases as you glare at her. “Let’s not talk about that time.” You cringe, tensing up at the memory.
“ehh? but you were so cute back then! now you’re just a boring adult…” the doctor sighs, “at least I can go out to drink with you now.” she added, browsing through grotesque pictures of victims’ deaths. “oooo now this looks good…” she mumbled, absorbed in choosing the next picture to hang in her room.
“Well im glad that I changed.” you say as you pour some coffee into your cup. How the coffee machine got placed on your desk was a wonder but no one asked why, already used to your rather unusual actions.
“Mmm…pretty sure you’re the only one that feels like that.”
…
“I swear to God I’m gonna dieeee…” you slump in your chair, frowning after a few hours passed. evening had arrived and it was just about 6:00PM. The sun was in the process of setting, a warm orange-reddish glow settled around the agency.
everyone was occupied with something; dazai with his beloved a guide to suicide book, you with your day dreaming, kunikida with his work, yosano with her pictures, the staff with their own things, and ranpo who finally arrived after buying his snacks and is now feasting on them.
“there’s more work for today. Good job everyone. Feel free to home and rest.” the president suddenly appears from from his office, a black cat and haruno following him close behind.
Fukuzawa Yukichi: the man responsible for creating the Armed Detective Agency. the cat sat down the floor, then stared up at the president, letting out a small ‘meow!’ earning a few “awwws” from the agency staff and members.
“goodness…that cat is cute…” you murmur, playing with a pen. “I’ll bet I’ll scare the shit outta them the second i try to go near there though. what a shame.” You sigh before picking up your phone, after hearing numerous pings, you quickly scrolled through them, then got up, took your bag and started out.
“well then, thank you all for the hard work and please excuse me for leaving before you. I’ll see you all tomorrow then. Also! president! There’s a bag of meat buns for you and haruno! enjoy!” You waved, opened the door, and left. stretching your arms when you felt like you finally tasted the freedom of after finishing work.
you soon arrived at the train station, buying a ticket then entered the train. Suprisingly, there weren’t too much people. That’s good. after all, being stuffed in a train with loads of people like sardines in a can was never fun.
sitting down, you glanced out the window, admiring how pretty the sky looked when the sun was setting. Maybe you should wake up earlier tomorrow to see the sunrise…which would probably never happen since waking up in the mornings were hell.
nothing was really new. you followed the same routine everyday. wake up, brush your teeth, eat something, dress, then head to uzumaki cafe to work.
Which usually lasted until the afternoons. Then, you walked up to the agency’s office and helped with almost anything until your roommate spammed your messages to buy groceries or beer or whatever.
you’d head back, make dinner, do chores, shower, mess around then practically pass out in your bed until 7:00am and repeat.
you followed the same routine today as well, get back, made dinner, which today consisted of rice, vegetables, and soup. after that, you headed to bed a bit later than usual. due to innasomia from caffeine.
you really shouldn’t have drunk that much coffee at night.
either way, you were content with how things were. And you had thought that tomorrow would be the same as before until you woke up due to your phone ringing.
squinting at your clock, you wince. It was quite early: 8:00am and you only got 4 hours of sleep. just the day when you got the rare chance to head to work late.
groaning, you reached for your phone blindly, knocking down a few things until you could finally get a hold of it.
“…hello?” You groggily ask when you answer the phone, immediately snapping awake from your half asleep state after realising what the other person on the line just said.
“what the actual living fuck?”
rua’s notes : and that concludes the first chapter! whoaaaa it sure took a while huh :0 since it’s only the 1st, I wont immediately write abt the reader and osamu’s relationship :3 also, the reader has a ability ! (just wait a few more chapters) also chapter two will be focusing back on dazai !
thank u for reading this cringy ass fic that I stayed up all night writing !
#Bsd x reader#x reader#dazai x reader#dazai#bsd#bungo stray dogs x reader#x f! Reader#kinda cringe idk#bsd x reader angst#Angst#ᨳ rua’s works 𐙚୨୧𐙚
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This post by the lovely @thursdayinspace violently hit me over the head with a baseball bat, so here we are. Dropping this mid-Pusher ficlet on your porch like a cat presenting a dead mouse. Technically this is canon-compliant if you squint a little.
I also wrote a longer post-episode fic a little while back, which you can find right here.
50% angst, 50% hurt/comfort, 100% yearning, the usual. Unofficial title for this one is "terrified with you".
———
Scully can't remember the last time she was this afraid.
No, not afraid—terrified.
Absolutely and utterly terrified for Mulder's life. She watches as the other agent (a name, he has a name) fits the bullet-proof vest around his chest, a thin wire running underneath it and connecting to what looks quite similar to a headset; one is waiting for her next to the screens.
If it were any other case, the sight of the defensive gear would calm her, maybe even offer an anchor to hold onto, but not this time. Not with Modell. Theoretically, wearing only a vest is often enough because, unless they're dealing with someone who knows how to shoot, the chances of the suspect hitting the body at all, let alone a small, moving part such as the head, are minuscule.
Modell is in no way experienced with a gun, but he doesn't have to be.
Mulder knows how to aim to kill, and nine times out of ten, he will hit what he is aiming at. He can use him, abuse him, force him to shoot whomever he pleases before commanding him to kill himself, and all she will be able to do is sit and watch.
The agent (she tries and fails to recall his name) steps away to respond to an incoming radio call, leaving Mulder half-stuck in the vest and the two of them in silence.
She shifts in her chair and turns her head until cold metal is digging into her cheek, already hearing her own voice list injury after injury, his body laying lifelessly in front of her.
Cause of death is a single gunshot wound to the head, self- (she can hear her own breath, too shallow, painful in her lungs) self-inflicted.
Self-inflicted. Suicides. Every single one of them died by their own hand. She really likes his hands.
"Scully."
Mulder's voice is soft, dipping into a tone he rarely uses and only ever with her, and she feels more than she sees him stepping closer. He raises his hand, gently grabbing her jaw and nudging it towards himself. Scully knows if she were to flinch away, he'd let her and not try again, but his fingertips are warm against her skin, a warmth she finds in his eyes, too.
Concern rolls off him in waves, and she presses his palm to her cheek, covering his hand with her own.
"Let me go in with you," she tries, knowing he will fight her on this harder than usual. It's a futile attempt, yet she still has to say it—for her own peace of mind and the small chance that he'll say yes.
"No, Scully," Mulder responds, an edge to his words, "one person putting themselves in danger is enough."
Separating never does them any good, but they keep doing it over and over, searching for the definition of insanity in the distance between their bodies.
"Why does it have to be you?"
It's a question she already knows the answer to, and his thumb brushes along her cheekbones as he shakes his head. A calming gesture, a way of offering comfort without addressing whatever it is that's spinning its net around them.
"You know why. I'll be fine, probably not even gonna have a scratch on me."
Scully hums quietly, evading their conversation in favour of discreetly tugging him closer; not that agent what's-his-name is paying them any attention. She blinks up at him, unsuccessfully suppressing the urge to study his features as if it's the last time she will see them flushed with hot, red blood (she hates that she finds it sticking to her hands in more than just her nightmares).
The curve of his lips and nose, the familiar line of his jaw, the affectionate glint in his eyes. So much left unsaid and yet visible to anyone who looks at him, at them, to the point where Modell could spot it from far away. She tightens her grip on his wrist without really meaning to, but Mulder only smiles.
"I will be fine, Scully." They both know he cannot make any promises, but maybe they can lie to themselves for a little while longer.
The radio crackles, popping their haphazardly created bubble, and she hesitantly lets him go. Mulder runs his thumb down her cheek, lingering on the corner of her mouth before stepping back, and the agent whose name she doesn't care about picks up where he left off.
"You better be," she mumbles, suddenly shivering in the cold of his absence. I need you alive.
#alex writes x files#txf#the x files#x files#dana scully#fox mulder#scully x mulder#mulder x scully#msr#msr fanfic#txf fanfic#developing an obsession with this episode is inevitable
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Nagi's "Hidden Path"/ Loophole
*featuring Isagi, Bachira, and Rin analysis*
I've been thinking a lot about how Nagi represents a "hidden path" in Bluelock, and the ways in which it seems the main manga and episode Nagi disagree on whether he should succeed- the key issue being his relationship with Reo. He plays soccer for their collective dream in a manga where depending on another character for your motivation is treated as soccer suicide, which should doom him, but his own manga starts with the statement that his genius is shaped by Reo - framed as a good thing.
I've said in the past that maybe Nagi will succeed by Episode Nagi's standards, but fail by Blue Lock standards, and I still think that would be an interesting path to take, but rn I wanna discuss the alternative that Nagi succeeds by both standards, even if to a lesser extent in the main manga since Isagi is the MC. And we're assuming here that his relationship with Reo isn't permanently severed in a way that makes him more similar to every other Bllk character bc that would make him much less interesting and also remove the "hidden path" aspect that we're expecting here.
So for him to succeed by both standards, I think what essentially needs to happen is that Nagi represents a loophole or caveat in Blue Lock's philosophy. And to understand why that would be the case, we'd have to understand WHY playing for anyone but yourself is a bad thing in Blue Lock. And there are plenty of examples to draw from.
Isagi and "All for One"
We can start with the "One for all, all for one" team Isagi was in- the most extremely dependent soccer we see. I'll be drawing from Isagi's Light Novel for this, because it really just spells it out. First, let's look at the reasoning for that "all for one" given in response to Isagi's request to shoot more:
“Up until now, You could have won matches with your individual skills, but high school isn’t a piece of cake... We win together, and become stronger together! If you do that, then you'll have double the joy! And half the sorrow!”
The reasoning given here isn't that the resulting soccer is better at winning games - rather there is an emphasis on safety. "the world is tough", "If we stick together, there's half the sorrow". And within that emphasis, is the implication that the individual isn't enough.
We can also see complacency in this ideaology. When Ichinan loses, the coach says
“You fought well. It’s frustrating, but this is what Ichinan is capable of now. The third years are leaving after this… and some of you might quit soccer after today but you can be proud of the days you fought together as a team."
"To me, Ichinan’s soccer team…is the best team in Japan!!!”
Within this dream doping that Ego rants about later on, we can again see the acceptance on the individual not being enough - "You fought well... but this is what Ichinan is capable of now." We also see within the dream doping the injection of safety and lack of perceived agency. Because we are one unit, there is no blame, no frustration, no need for improvement. The point is the team, not to win, so be proud.
Most damning is the way we see this reflected in Isagi
There’s no need to take a risky battle. If they lose, it will be his fault and he will feel bad for the team.
He makes an exquisite pass to Tada's feet. A perfect last pass.
What's emphasized here is the risk in making an egotistical decision for the whole team in believing himself good enough to make that shot himself. What essentially happens here is a devaluing of the self - " I'm not good enough on my own, its safer to trust others, trust the system, not your instincts" And that forces Isagi to not live up to his fullest potential, to chase what he wants. Until Blue Lock that is.
Bachira and the Monster
Bachira is probably the character most directly "punished" in the narrative for playing for someone else. Though I feel like punish is the wrong word because this problem with his ego reared its head and was resolved in the same game - once he realized the problem, Bachira resolved to solve it
According to Bachira's explanation
"...Until now, I was afraid of playing soccer by myself. I guess I wanted you to come save me. But, once I tried fighting on my own, like I'd done as a kid, I realized...
And so the problem with his habit of looking for another player when playing instead of focusing on himself was again the perceived lack of agency, and devaluing of the self. Longing for someone to play soccer with led to a dependency that negatively impacted his decisions on the field
So that's why his moment of growth was breaking through all on his own to steak back Isagi and win - ignoring the idea that he should wait for someone else to help him. He needed to believe in his own agency/value to prove himself on the field and achieve his goals.
Rin and Sae
I recently took a look at Rin's Light Novel and there was a line that stood out as kinda similar to Bachira's old habit of passing to an imaginary monster before coming to Blue Lock
he understood why things were not going well. Neither their coach nor his other teammates have the slightest idea of Rin’s image of play in his head.
(If it was Nii-chan, he would have made a pass here……) he thought so many times during today's practice. He jumped out in front of the goal to a position where I said, “Here!” but his teammates were like, “Huh?” “There?”
So whether you're passing or shooting, a reliance can develop, huh...
(How do Bachirin shippers feel about this parallel? haha. And what does this say about what Rin says to Bachira "But afraid of fighting alone. It is a soccer looking for someone. That luke-warm ego won't make my heart dance". Cus it seems Rin is criticizing Bachira for doing the same thing he did. What does this mean about how Rin feels about himself? (I mean.. he did already call himself lukewarm later but was he thinking about himself in that moment?))
In the light novel, I think it becomes clear one reason why Sae is so against Rin using him as his reason for soccer - it definitely affects how Rin plays when Sae is away. And since Sae becomes aware of the competition outside Japan during his time abroad, he knows that Rin's mentality as it was wouldn't be enough and thus wanted to spare him the suffering and have him give up. And this is in combination with the idea of "I've found out, that I'm not strong enough to hold you up. If you rely on me you'll fail" At least, this is my interpretation of it - but moving on-
With Rin’s last pass, they score a shot.
If his Nii-chan had been there, he would have passed the ball to him in front of the goal and he would have scored it directly….. He stopped thinking.
No pass is coming. That is now the reality. Anyway, the team won for the first time in a long time.
We see a lack of agency and a reliance on others once again - "If only Nii-chan was here". Like with Bachira, Rin is waiting for someone to "save" him, which limits what he chooses to attempt and stifles his potential because of how it limits his perceived agency.
We can also see this limitation in how he wants to be 2nd best after Sae - not best (de-valuing). It causes Rin to seal off his ego in order to catch up to Sae, by being more similar to Sae instead of developing according to his own unique talents/ego.
In order to catch up with his Nii-chan he saw off at the airport, he has to make the team’s victory his top priority. To do so, he must hold himself back.
Hold back the you who was trying to steal the goal with everything you have using that sense of smell for the goal and assemble an attack as a team play.
Even after Sae's return he's always on Rin's mind, and this still limits his soccer. It's only after Rin declares himself lukewarm and rejects the stories others create through their relationship with him that he is able to go all out by embracing his own personal style, rather than focusing on others.
Back on Topic!
So in summary, what is wrong with depending on others? What causes Blue Lock to default to individualism? Ultimately it seems like its the resulting lack of perceived agency - the idea that you can't do things without other people present. By constraining yourself into a narrative with other people, you limit what you can do, and you limit what you think you can do by molding yourself to their vision. Thus, your potential is stifled.
How can Nagi and Reo become an exception to this reasoning? Well, maybe Nagi's decision to leave Reo during 2nd selection is part of the key.
We know from Episode Nagi and Manshine that Nagi wants to improve for the sake of his and Reo's collective dream. And he (correctly) identifies following soccer that challenges/excites him as the proper way to improve.
Here, Reo identifies them playing together as a must, but Nagi corrects him and saying that them being the best in the world together is a must, saying (in his head T-T) that he likes being with him, but that in order to protect their dream, Nagi needs to change.
It's actually pretty much spelled out here. Nagi says he's fine with Reo playing with other people, but insists that Reo stay with him till the end. Its ok to play soccer with others, but keep me in your heart always. In other words, I don't mind not playing together, but you and our end goal is always in my heart.
This is different from Isagi, Bachira, or Rin's situation because in those cases, the team/monster/Sae were considered as key to success. However, in Nagi's case, success is key to Reo. It's completely reversed. It's that nuance of "I play soccer to play soccer with you, to win with you" vs. "I play soccer for you, I win for you". Because "playing together" is not a requirement for winning, it no longer acts as a constraint that restricts agency. Nagi's concept of being together separate from playing soccer together saves their partnership from being the same as the others and frees him to (for example) join Isagi to improve.
You can see more of this in epinagi
The Tag Game
You might say this is a bad example because Nagi relies on Reo to get him un-eliminated, but by Nagi's "I figured you'd do that, Reo..." we can guess that this was more from laziness than a belief that he needed Reo's help. Indeed, when Reo's in danger of being eliminated himself, when their dream is in any real danger, Nagi takes it upon himself to solve the issue
They didn't solve the problem relying on teamwork/partnership or anything. Nagi solved the problem because they're partners.
Playing Against Barou
The next time their dream is "Challenged" is when Barou says "Becoming the world's best striker means you'll be alone until you die", essentially a challenge to the viability of Nagi and Reo's dream. Nagi's response to that is to run off and instigate a 1v1 with Barou
So again, rather than deny Nagi options, his partnership with Reo provided the motivation to act out on his own.
Playing against Team Z
Even when they play against team Z, we see this in action. Nagi plays a more reliant soccer, his dream/Reo is challenged when he sees Reo's face, and Nagi decides to act out on his own.
Nagi will rely on Reo for the sake of laziness, but when it comes to their dream, there's this pattern of deciding to rely less on Reo, take destiny into his own hands, and make an effort. It's really that nuance of doing something to be with someone vs. doing something for someone.
Beyond 1st/2nd Selection
Brief mention here of Nagi's eyes shining when Reo says "But it's not enough" when Nagi praises him. I think this might be Nagi thinking its a sign that Reo in fact has not forgotten their promise and is also working to achieve it - consistent with the idea of being together without necessarily playing together (Whereas Reo is thinking the other way round - improving for the sake of playing together because that's the only way to be together)
So, where this theory hits its roadblock is the Manshine City Arc, where Nagi asks for Reo's help. But because of all the ominous foreshadowing afterwards, in addition to Ego's words that Nagi's deep ego (implied by timing of skull imagery +all the scenes I just listed to be Reo/dream-centric) is about to be tested, I think their dynamic is bound to change in some direction within the next game. So, their relationship is still in development and the theory isn't necessarily debunked.
**edited in addition** I think the key is that regardless of their behavior, the core of their partnership (ie their internal feelings) isn't dependency, but rather reciprocated faith and commitment, though especially with Nagi's communication and introspection issues, it may take some time for them to figure that out because Reo has no idea the faith that Nagi has in him. Reo actually assumes that their partnership can't exist without dependence - assumes its over when that dependence fades because Nagi will have no reason to stay with him, but this is him insecurely misinterpreting Nagi's intentions. They also can't really flourish until Nagi figures out his ego/motivation, though that's luckily foreshadowed to be addressed.
I think with how Reo misinterprets Nagi's motivations on a shallow level in 207, and how Nagi's motivation is foreshadowed to be addressed soon, we will get nagireo communication soon timeline wise (not real life lol). And hopefully with that communication, Reo's insecurity + Nagi's motivation can be addressed and they can begin to figure out a functional partnership within Blue Lock.
But really the key here is that faith and devotion don't necessitate playing with only each other in mind, while dependence/reliance does.
In terms of what will happen, I think we might finally get a confirmation of what Nagi's ego is - it certainly fits with their conversation in 207, where Reo tries to give a substitute that doesn't really fit. I'm not sure what would happen once Nagi and Reo have the clarity of understanding what Nagi's ego is though...
In Any Case!
I'm running out of fuel but just to let ya'll know I was thinking really hard about what the difference was between Nagi and Reo's dynamic in comparison to partnerships or teamwork criticized by the main manga and I did not expect the difference I came up with to be the difference between reliance and devotion. "I am not enough by myself" vs. "I will make myself enough for you". I still wonder if I'm just biased?
Plz lmk ur thoughts
link to a continuation of these thoughts - Hiori's Words, Reo's Insecurity, Nagi's Enforced Indifference
#reo mikage#nagi seishiro#isagi yoichi#bachira meguru#rin itoshi#bllk meta#blue lock meta#nagireo#reonagi#bllk#blue lock#Nagi's utter devotion lives rent free in my head#episode nagi
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Honest question, what do you think a well-written "Jason lives" story would look like?
Like, if Death in the Family still happened, but Bruce saved Jason before it was too late, then odds are there would still be consequences resulting from how BADLY the Joker brutalized him.
Hmm, OK so with your starting premise and utilizing my knowledge of comics to come but also the fact that if Jason lived then certain ideas and plots would be nixed... While all still colored from my perspective, here is my general take:
So, first, rather than Bruce saving Jason I'd say Jason actually manages to save himself, either because he released his mother or managed to half talk her through disarming the bomb.
I know the original splash page has Bruce pulling him from the rubble but that makes zero sense even by comics standards, he and Sheila should be charred corpses.
So, the bomb is disarmed or they managed to get out cos he released Sheila and Bruce arrives to whisk Jason away to medical treatment with Sheila keeping his head above water.
The exact next sequence is harder to make sense of at first, but here's the thing. The original comic could let Joker get away with learning who Jason was behind the mask because he 'died' soon after and then 'came back'. He also initially mistook Tim for Jason. So, given his state of mind it can be... Tacitly tolerated that he never deduced or used Bruce's identity.
Here, that's a bigger issue and so I will say that to keep the tracks covered as much as they can...
Sheila is kept in custody because while Bruce is furious with her, she did keep Jason alive & separating them seems like a bad idea, though she is to be closely watched by Leslie & Alfred.
Unfortunately, the intel she gave him on Joker's plan was slightly false and she used her time to slip away to go after the clown herself, intent on a redemption arc.
There's messages, misunderstandings, truths revealed and another arrest that doesn't last, before Joker is once again in a helicopter trying to escape but this time with Sheila who shoots him, but he shoots her back as he lays dying and the helicopter crashes.
They cannot find Joker's body but Sheila stayed above long enough to die later, musing on where her life led her, the importance of getting a chance to do something, and that Jason is a real good kid, better than she or Bruce deserve.
This is deeply tragic, mostly conceptually and philosophically, but still.
This is enough to make Bruce sort of ease up on Jason, but at the expense of becoming more overprotective in general. Which is hard to argue with as Jason is doing physical therapy and Dick has a broken leg.
So the drama for the ensuing period is Bruce trying to bench key allies and family ETC, so he can keep them safe while still running himself more ragged, but not quite as terribly as his suicidal spiral in canon.
He also has ideas on sending Jason to a semi boarding school to try and keep him out of super heroics. If he succeeds, this plan will still fail and likely ends up forming the nexus of Jason's own mini team with Eddie and Rose. But also would fail to keep him out of Gotham sufficiently. Still he may be at Brentwood some of the time so one can justify solo Batman stories & some more school time adventures for Jason.
But before all that happens, we have a new player in the field.
The Spoiler!!!
That's right, into the arena is the one, the only Stephanie Brown. She's here to spill the tea and kill her dad, and maybe protect her community on the side.
Best part?
Bruce either does not know who she is at first, or has zero jurisdiction over her and can't gain any without revealing his identity or attacking a teenager for trying to help and she is slippery regardless.
Basically, one of the people who helps crowbar Bruce back into tolerating help is Stephanie basically keeping her original give no fucks about Batman attitude and doing her own thing.
Their relationship is likely a bit contentious and back and forth, far more hands off, not quite mentoring, but also less outright toxic than canon.
She & Jason probably have a thing and bond over some shared and different history stuff, but I don't see it being the mainstay relationship.
Young Justice is likely found eventually under similar circumstances, though Stephanie likely gets to be a member this time, as do Eddie & Rose.
I think the team would be less, Kon, Kid Flash & Robin and more like a cycling mass of active or present members, dealing with an overseer.
Basically a comic series to throw lots of different personalities power sets and problems together and see what dynamics emerge as popular.
After that, less sure.
My ideal is Jason goes to university or maybe has to stay with Young Justice or some other area full time and adopts his own hero persona while Steph gets a run as Robin alongside Cassandra as Batgirl.
Otherwise most major storylines, save one's reliant on Jason being dead, still happen. Steph likely has a less horrible time as Spoiler, but is also maybe always and forever more overtly on the outs so she might not get Robin as she might not want it. (Though maybe during No Man's Land...)
See what I mean about the plot drift?
War Games may still happen but probably with a very different, though not inherently better cos Bruce's plan was dumb, resolution.
Also Joker does return, sadly, and there's always likely a hovering question as to whether he knows the truth of their identities but its never confirmed, or isn't until he dies again.
#Bat Clan#Batfam#Batman#the batman#Bruce Wayne#Jason Todd#robin!jason#Stephanie Brown#the spoiler#robin!steph#Death in the Family
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I have a thought and I physically need to talk about it BC I think the JSE Fandom as a whole does not talk about it nearly enough.
BEFORE WE GET STARTED!!! Content Warnings :
Discussions on mental illness, alcoholism / alcohol withdrawal, mentions of potential suicidal behaviour!!!!!
CHASE BRODY IS NOT AN IDIOT.
I feel like Chase gets mischaracterised as being a bit of a himbo at best and just straight up stupid at worst.
For the record I generally dislike the way that happens? Like there's already a big stigma around addiction, I'm actually very impressed with how Chase Brody is such a sympathetic character with his addiction being an aspect of that. I love how it shines a new light on this very real and scary issue that doesn't villainise Chase at all for his condition.
But this is exactly why I feel it's so important that people understand that Chase also isn't an idiot.
Genuinely speaking there are so many examples of Chase being someone who is an extremely smart individual and I think a lot of that gets overshadowed by the fact that he's an alcoholic and depressed.
EXAMPLES BEING:
He is immediately asking questions the moment he's in IRIS.
He's constantly making it known exactly how he feels about his predicament but at the same time he understands that at certain points (especially when he doesn't have a clear view on IRIS and what they're up too) he needs to go along with things and keep civil to not put himself in potential danger
He calls out the way IRIS puts him through shit and how fucking weird that is of them to do
The moment he sees a shimmer of hope (in the form of Echo) he immediately tries to comfort them and tries to help them and attempts to make a plan to leave IRIS
When IRIS attempts to relocate Chase he immediately calls out that they're lying to him, that something has happened
He can spot people being manipulative from a mile away and is very quick to shoot it down as soon as he can by making it known he knows exactly what they're doing.
I would also like to mention that all this is happening while Chase is very likely going through major alcohol withdrawal issues- the symptoms of which include: tremor, craving for alcohol, insomnia, vivid dreams, anxiety, hypervigilance, agitation, irritability, loss of appetite (i.e., anorexia), nausea, vomiting, headache, and sweating.
Chase is quite literally going through it, like every severely going through it and the entire time he is he's surprisingly got more of a level head than most people probably would in his situation. And he's doing all of this while probably going through some intensely bad withdrawal symptoms as well as all the mental shit Anti is putting him through every moment he can.
All things considered Chase is insanely capable of being able to keep fighting even through some of the hardest things a person could go through.
Chase Brody is not an idiot, he's not useless and he's certainly not weak. If Chase can go through all the things he has and he's still fighting tooth and nail to survive even tho he previously was shown to be someone who was very clearly suicidal? I just think it says so much about his character that at Chase's core he's smart and strong- in ways a lot of people wouldn't appreciate nearly half as much if they didn't physically see the things he was being put through continuously for potentially years at this point.
And again I wanna keep in mind that all of this is going on while Chase is quite literally at rock bottom, like we have only seen Chase while he's at his worst. The fact that he is so smart while he's at his worst only makes me wonder just how capable he has the potential of being once he gets the right help he needs and deserves.
#this was brought to you by Kalcifer having a moment#its currently 5 am for the record#guys i love Chase Brody idk if you knew that#jacksepticeye#jse egos#jse#jacksepticeye egos#chase brody#kal rambles#kals thoughts#kalcifers blog#Ego Rambling
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an angry kiss in the rain (Mario)
It didn't matter how many times he stressed that it was monsoon season because there Mario went, like an idiot, straight into the jungle as the sky sat pregnant above with a looming due date.
At first, DK didn't mind shooting the shit with the Mushroom Kingdom's mascot. They usually fooled around on the outskirts of the Kong capital where a few powerup blocks provided a couple hours of entertainment, but after a few rounds of power-up tag (where the point was to beat the power out of the other, but keep their own) DK was ready to call it quits early. Maybe it was a form of animal instinct, or the fact that he'd lived in Kong country all his life, but one whiff of the air had the fur on his shoulders rising with the blossoming static around them; "Time to go-"
Or it would have been if the resounding cry for help deep in the jungle didn't spur the red-shirted hero to action. DK had a hold of him by the shoe at first when Mario attempted to blow past him. "Dude, we can't help them right now. We gotta let the storm pass first."
"You'a kiddin' right?" Given how he looked at DK like he'd grown a second head, the Kong realized his company was probably unfamiliar with just how a rescue mission would not play out well in the next ten or so seconds. "It'sa little rain. You won't melt."
"Mario-wait!" DK lost his grip and for a moment watched as Mario breeched the forest-line of fan palms and birds of paradise leaves. In any other circumstance, he may have let Mario fuck around and find out, but with the addition of another likely stranded before the storm, DK galloped after him, albeit annoyed.
"Hellooo?" Mario called out, slapping overgrown caladiums out of his face as he ventured in deeper. As the sky rumbled above, he rolled his eyes. DK being afraid of a little water was ridiculous considering someone in his kingdom was in need of assistance. It didn't occur to him they might have been worried about being out and about. Mario didn't notice a single drop of rain before the bottom fell out.
The force of the downpour was unlike anything he'd seen-well...in this case, felt, because as soon as the wall of water barreled down on him with the strength of a pent-up season, he face-planted into the dirt as it instantly mutated to mud. Caught off guard and dazed, he couldn't seem to pull himself up under the furious force. Not good-he thought, scrabbling at the ground with a frantic air once he realized he couldn't quite get his face up and out of the puddle that was quickly forming around him.
Mario was lucky he liked such an ugly color, because without the bright red beacon, DK wouldn't have been able to find him through the blinding wave of water. Just trying to move beneath the force was a work out in itself, but since this wasn't DK's first fuck around and find out rodeo, he managed. Scooping Mario up, he laid the plumber out to dry, dangling off his arm which he scooted partly under his body to give Mario some break from the beating as he turned and pushed through the heavy rain until he made it to the cave entrance they had luckily passed by on the plunge into the suicide mission.
When the roof of the cave cut off nature's assault, DK coughed in the contained oxygen after having held his breath for much of Mario's retrieval. An involuntary shake wracked his body in an attempt to rid his fur from the wet feeling that at this point, probably only a long time napping in the sun would fix.
"W-wow." Mario stirred on his wet and hairy perch, peering at the mouth of the cave which was now curtained with a waterfall. "You...probably should have warned me about that-"
"Oh yeah? My BAD." Annoyed, DK flicked Mario off him, not caring if he hit the cave wall and knocked himself unconscious. At least then he wouldn't have to listen to Mario's macaroni. "I would have let you enjoy the taste of your foot in your mouth if there wasn't probably some kid out here - doing what they should be and waiting it out." It was almost like they'd learned all this as kids, the hard way or otherwise.
"Yeah, well!" Mario stood, wringing out some water from his hat. "I can't just sit back whena some kid's calling for help. Unlike you, I have a heart."
The barb was almost as insignificant as a splinter, but it stung enough for DK to stomp the few steps over and wring his fingers into the front of Mario's shirt and lift him a few feet off the ground. "Yeah, I'm SO heartless. I made sure you didn't drown in the mud where your brains come from!" Desperate to throw the idiot into a wall or slap him around, DK knew he couldn't compromise their temporary shelter, so he did the next best thing he could to spill some fury. With his fingers wrenched skull-crushingly tight to the front of Mario's shirt, he jerked the squirming mushroom mascot up to collide their mouths together in a mash up of a bite and a suffocating kiss.
Mario's sporadic squirms stilled with the aggressive action, and his hands flew up as if to swat the Kong back, but a tug of guilt kept his gloved hand poised in the shape of a scratch that he rested against DK's cheek. He had been so wrapped up in being the hero that he hardly noticed that DK had come to his rescue instead.
With enough of his fury foisted upon Mario's mouth, DK breaks for a breath, accepting the uncertain palm poised on his cheek as he bumps his face forward into it...dammit, he wanted to stay mad. "If anything gets to suffocate your dumb ass, it's me."
Face joining the color of his shirt, Mario gave DK's cheek a thankful pat. "N...noted."
#//who sent u#//ok here - 4 u#//this turned into a mini fic but yeah lol#donkey kong#donkario#donkey kong x mario#mario x donkey kong
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@the-ravenclaw-werewolf and @purplemochi20055
The 40 - A traumatic revelation
Hey ya'll I'm back with the next fan comic I promise you all!
Oh ho, drawing this fan comic of The 40's reaction to the ending of Death Note was a challenging one due to the lack of motivation and anticipation of the final chapter of Main Character Syndrome. And I got to say, it came out pretty good...for the most part.
Now, oh my gosh, the ending to Death Note regarding Light getting shot by Matsuda and nearly killed was quite a dramatic climax when I first watched it back in middle or high school. Then, I stumbled upon The_Ravenclaw_Werewolf's fanfic and became hooked on the possible reactions to the forty chosen anime of the main characters. I have to tell ya, emotions would be flying high for many of our anime audience as they watched Light Yagami's descent into madness and saw him stoop to many lows unimaginable for them.
But the one low I really would like to see The 40's reaction to Light is how he calls his own deceased father a "fool" whose idealism would only be inefficient in his new world, where it might as well registered to any sane person's mind that Light is saying that Soichiro deserves to die even though that probably wasn't his intention. That particular moment would be the trigger for those in The 40 with really bad Daddy Issues and probably go as far as hallucinating themselves in Matsuda's shoes opening fire on Light afterward.
----
For L, I know that he's the world's greatest detective in Death Note and saw plenty of nasty crimes committed by the most heinous serial killers while growing up, along with him being very stoic and cool-headed as a result of his own "quirks" and the desensitization of seeing death bodies to deal with the obvious high stress that comes with the job. However, emotions are not rational and I wouldn't put it past him to have an anxiety attack from witnessing something really bad (e.g. his scared reaction upon the mention of Shinigami for the first time in the manga), and obviously, L would be triggered in his own way after witnessing his own death and Watari's, the growing hatred he'll gain for Light, and to his own surprise when seeing himself in Matsuda's place as a result of his emotional imbalance and frankly, having enough of Light's bullshit. When drawing the hallucination L, I looked up the character art from the bad ending of The Boogyman regarding Keith Baring aiming a gun at the villain with his blood as tears coming down his eyes, which represents Keith's unresolved grief and guilt from being unable to cry from the death of his son.
For Edward, it's very obvious that he's got a deep-seated grudge against Hohenheim for his abandonment of him, his brother, and their mother (even if it was for good reason). But Edward witnessed Light's madness and willingness to endanger his own family for his delusions of godhood will, not if, earned him a spot on his hatred and would override any hate he has for his estranged father. Also, Edward has shown a very humanist approach as a State Alchemist by refusing to kill others, and he'll likely advocate for Light's imprisonment despite his hatred for him. Of course, it would come as a shock for Edward to see himself in Matsuda's place shooting Light multiple times before being readied to execute him with a headshot, showing that he's not ok, and ironically, jump-starting his resolve to reconcile with Hohenheim. When drawing the hallucination of Edward, I just included his tendency for dramatic facial expressions.
For Tohru, oh bless her kind heart, but I had to draw her reaction for the finale to Death Note. I don't know much about Fruits Basket but I have read the broad strokes from the TV Tropes page of it. Apparently, in the past Tohru once had a hatred for her late father due to his death causing her mother to neglect her for a time and almost commit suicide, though even then she recognizes it's wrong to feel that way. Seeing Light's father dying due to Light's actions, even on the possibility that Light actually feels guilty about it, would slowly bring that part of Tohru's personality back to the surface and the obvious guilt that'll come with it, and god forbid her breaking point upon witnessing Light calling his late father an "idealistic fool". Never mind that Light Yagami is going to be one of the many people that even an all-loving girl like Tohru would hate with all her heart in my opinion. Also, there's the cultural significance of Tohru seeing herself wielding a gun against Light in Matsuda's place. In Japan, there are very, very strict laws regarding citizens owning firearms, with only the police and military being allowed to own them. For a minor to be seen as willing to hold a gun is unthinkable given the whole "children are innocent" angle in Japanese culture and how every child in Japan is expected to have obedient and quiet deferential behavior toward authority figures. Plus, in Japanese culture, killing someone, even in self-defense no matter how justified, will always be seen as "murder". So unlike L (a detective) and Edward (a soldier hailing from a culture similar to Germany), the hallucination!Tohru holding a gun and being readied to fire upon a now defenseless Light, even if he did deserve to die, would really highlight to a native Japanese audience just how bad Tohru's sanity has taken a dive and the obvious shock she would have to the core. When drawing the hallucination Tohru, I took inspiration from Winery's design as she pulls a gun at Scar upon overhearing that he murdered her parents, because it was just perfect in my opinion and there were obviously weren't many images of Tohru having a "mad face" that would be appropriate for the climatic moment in the Death Note viewing.
For Rin, it'll be obvious for him to also hate Light Yagami, especially with how his actions killed his father, who had always wished that his son isn't Kira. Upon seeing his hallucination, Rin would be shocked and horrified to see himself as a demonic shadowy being damning Light for taking to his father for granted and it'll be a foreshadowing of what's to come when The 40 will view Blue Exorcist. When drawing the hallucination of Rin, I just decided to go with a silhouette to represent a "shadow archetype" of Rin due to his troubled childhood of being perceived as a demon child, along with Rin not seeing what would happen to his adoptive father, Shiro, in the viewing yet.
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In conclusion, what are your thoughts on this fan comic and how accurate do you believe I drew the character's reactions to the finale of Death Note?
P.S. The next fan comic I'll be planning for The 40 will be in celebration of the recent release of chapter 3 for Poppy Playtime and Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League.
#the_40#death note#fullmetal alchemist#fruits basket#blue exorcist#l lawliet#edward elric#tohru honda#rin okumura#trauma#angst#hallucinations
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Part 2: Does the Devil Have a Heart
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC
Summary: Tommy learns about Lucy's past.
Word Count: 4,265
Notes: Warnings for references to sexual assault and suicide.
Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic
Previous Part • Next Part
Chapter 2: Longing for Her Soul
Tommy closed the door to his office, muffling the usual clatter and voices from the betting shop. Sitting down behind the desk, he eyed the file that Skudboat had handed him that morning, lighting a cigarette.
Skudboat had looked a little pale when he’d silently held out the packet of information collected from the background checks done on Lucy. But when Tommy had inquired about the look, he’d just shook his head, and mumbled that he would understand once he read it.
Leaning back in his chair, cigarette in one hand, he pulled the file into his lap, flipping it open to the front page and beginning to read.
Her full name was Lucy Josephine Winters. She was born to a Romani woman and a devout Catholic man. She was the oldest of five, and the only girl. She was born in and spent most of her childhood in Birmingham, until her family moved to London when she was a teenager. She would often spend summers with her Romani relatives in the mountains, where she would work the fairs and her cousins would teach her all sorts of bad habits, from brawling to shooting to knife throwing. From the time she was little, she showed a particularly deep love for animals, especially horses.
Tommy raised an eyebrow at the mention of Romani ancestry. Would make sense why she was so good with the horses, then. It was in her blood.
He flipped to the next page.
She was good at school, despite having an extensive disciplinary record; often getting detention or beatings from the nuns at the Catholic schools she attended for questioning scripture or misbehaving.
Tommy caught himself smiling a little at that.
She displayed a talent for learning different languages from a young age, and there was a letter tucked between the two pages of the file that had been written by one of her teachers, detailing that Lucy was talented enough that, despite being a girl, she had a real shot of becoming a translator professionally.
His brows pinched, wondering how someone with such good prospects had found her way into the bowels of Birmingham.
Eyes reading quickly across the page, he soon found his answer.
Her father was a bastard. And even that was being quite generous in Tommy’s opinion. He’d squandered Lucy’s desires to pursue any further education or career opportunities. Despite her easily being the smartest of his children. He insisted that she was to find a husband as soon as possible. And yet, when she did express some interest in a Romani boy she met during a summer spent with her cousins, her father rejected the idea that she marry him, instead insisting on her marrying someone rich and with a high status in society. The Romani boy soon went on to marry someone else, and the heartbreak that caused was seemingly finally enough for Lucy’s mother to step in, insisting that her husband give their daughter some time before forcing potential suitors onto her.
Tommy swallowed, a sudden burn of something he realized to be jealousy seering like acid in his throat. Or maybe he’s just been chain smoking too much over the course of the day.
Yes, certainly that had to be it. There was no way he was jealous of a boy he’d never met, and certainly not over the affections of a woman he hadn’t even ever spoken to.
He shook his head, putting the cigarette out in the ashtray on the desk, and returned to reading.
After her father and four brothers were sent to France, Lucy took up work as a stable girl. By all accounts, it was actually a rather happy, uneventful time in her life. With her father no longer breathing down her neck, she was actually able to relax and enjoy her life a little. Her brothers didn’t fare as well. The youngest was killed in combat, and another committed suicide in front of Lucy shortly after returning home. The one closest to her in age–Theodore–lost an eye, and her father returned with a permanently disabled leg.
Tommy frowned, scratching at his nose, a sudden feeling of foreboding squeezing in his gut. He turned the page.
After returning, Lucy’s father informed her that he had arranged a marriage for her with a man he had met and served with in France. His name was Matthew Sutton; a wealthy man a few years older than Lucy who had connections with the Italian gangs in London.
The report had no real details as to what Lucy’s initial reaction to being informed of the betrothal was, but based off of everything Tommy had read about this willful, spunky little woman, he doubted that she took it well. But the report did detail how her father had twisted her arm on the matter, forcing her to meet with Matthew on several occasions. She was not impressed, and eventually flat-out rejected the engagement.
Again, Tommy had to push down a smile, ignoring the bloom of pride that had welled up in his chest.
Attagirl.
He paused, frowning, trying to figure out just where the hell that thought had come from.
But then his eyes dropped to the next paragraph on the page, and his blood went cold, hand tightening unconsciously where it was settled around the corner of the file.
Matthew had not taken Lucy’s rejection well. The details of what came next were vague, but there was enough there to piece together what had happened.
On a stormy night, armed with pocket knives, Matthew and his friends cornered Lucy in an alley near her home. And there, in the dark, her screams muffled by the roar of the rain and thunder, they’d carved into her with their blades, punched and kicked her until she was black and blue nearly everywhere, and then gang raped her in the most vicious, agonizing ways imaginable.
Tommy stared down at the file, mouth half open, entire body rigid with horror. His stomach turned, and for a moment he genuinely thought he might be sick.
This poor fucking girl…
His eyes, of their own accord, darted further down the page, needing to know what had happened after.
It was there that the details became even hazier. It was unclear what exactly they’d done to her once they were finished. But Tommy could only assume that they thought she was dead and left her laying there, bleeding and barely alive in the alley.
He squinted at the page, unable to shake the feeling that there was a remaining piece of important information missing there.
Lucy was eventually picked up by some members of the Jewish gang ran by Alfie Solomons. Alarm bells had gone off in Tommy’s head earlier, when he’d read that in her teenage years she’d been friendly with the boy would become the Mad Baker of Camden Town, but Alfie was a good deal older than her, and it seemed that after he was sent off to war that they lost touch. It was unlikely she was a spy for him.
Alfie had gotten a man who used to be an army medic to crudely stitch up and treat the worst of her injuries, but she was unable to stay there for more than a day or two. Relations between the Jews and the Italians in London were teetering dangerously on the precipice of war, and Alfie could not risk harboring her from Matthew when he was so closely tied in with Sabini. She was forced to return home.
Upon learning that she was alive, Matthew informed Lucy’s father that she’d given herself to him and his friends willingly. And he threatened to tell everyone and destroy her and her family’s reputation unless she married him. When he heard Matthew’s lies, Lucy’s father beat her.
“Fucking hell…” Tommy growled out before he could stop himself. Flicking back to the front of the file, he picked up the picture of Lucy’s father tucked in there, along with all the other photos of her and her family members. He committed the face to memory.
If he ever came face to face with Victor Winters, he would shoot him in his fucking devout, rotted head.
Despite her father locking her in the home until the wedding, Lucy managed to escape with the help of Theordore. The details were unclear as to how exactly she actually got to Birmingham, though it seemed to have taken a combination of walking and stowing away inside vans heading to the city.
That was where the file ended.
Tommy stared down at the packet still balanced in his lap, hand smoothing out across the white pages. He looked up, unable to take looking at the words detailing the brutality this woman had been forced to face any longer.
It was a fucking miracle that she was even alive.
Fingers drumming on the paper, he frowned. She was smart, and strong. The horses liked her, so that meant she was alright. And she was resilient as all hell, to still be standing after everything that had happened to her.
Raising a hand to his face, he unconsciously ran his fingers across his lips, thinking hard.
Someone as smart and versatile as that…she would be wasted as only a stable girl.
But there would be costs to taking her on. Potential conflict with the Italians, for one. And if Matthew or Victor decided to come looking for her…
But he already knew before even properly considering it that he would never be able to hand her over to them. Not after what he’d just read. Not after seeing the still healing marks that they’d left on her.
Sitting up in his chair, he turned the file back to the photos, spreading them each carefully onto the desk. His hand lingered on the photo of Lucy. Her hair was longer in the picture, instead of the blunt bob she was currently sporting. It made her look a lot more like her mother. His thumb swiped delicately along the very edge of the photograph, staring into the wide eyes looking back at him. There was something lighter in her face in the photo; something that was no longer there, in the expression of the Lucy he had seen riding Wraith in the yard.
He set her photo aside, away from the others, instead focusing on committing the faces of Matthew and the friends who had attacked her to memory.
If any of them stepped into Small Heath, he would have their heads mounted on spikes.
Confident that he would be able to easily pick them out if any of them showed up, he leaned back in his chair, plucking up the photograph of Lucy, staring at it again.
Those eyes, wide and glimmering with bright intelligence and humor, hidden beneath which he could see nothing but endless sorrow, stared back at him in quiet understanding.
He dropped his head back against his chair, eyes slipping shut with a groan. He shook his head, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. He must be going soft.
But the decision was already made.
∗ ∗ ∗
Lucy pushed a lock of red hair back behind her ear, bending at the waist to dump the bucket of water she was carrying into the horse’s trough. She must have bought some clothes that were actually in her size, because the white button-down shirt she was garbed in today was fitted much more snugly than the oversized one she’d been in when Tommy first saw her. And paired with her better-fitting trousers, he was able to more clearly make out the shape of her body; strong and leanly muscled, particularly in the arms and thighs, but also curvy. There was a defined dip in her waist before her hips flared out, thighs thick and strong. And her chest, while not overly large, was certainly noticeable.
He yanked his gaze away at the realization that he was staring, stomach clenching in disgust at himself for practically ogling her. Especially after everything she’d already been through.
“Who’s a good boy?”
His eyes darted back to her, struck with the knowledge that he hadn’t actually heard her speak before. Her voice was soft and low. Quiet. And distinctly Birmingham. She was rubbing Wraith’s nose, smiling as the horse attempted to nuzzle her. Stretching up onto her toes, she gave him a gentle kiss between the eyes, whispering to him in a voice too quiet for Tommy to hear.
He stood silently in the doorway to the stables, watching her for only a moment more, then quickly stepped away before she could spot him looking at her.
Moving hurriedly, he set out to find Charlie, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, still trying to puzzle out what exactly was wrong with him.
Maybe she’d put a curse on him or something.
He found Charlie at work cleaning some old, assorted automobile parts. When he spotted Tommy approaching him he started, standing and wiping grease from his hands onto his trousers.
“Tommy? What are you doing here? I didn’t know we were meeting today.”
Pulling his cigarette from his lips, Tommy spoke quickly, before he could change his mind. “You can let Lucy help in the moving of contraband and other Blinders activities.”
Charlie’s eyes grew wide as dinner plates, jaw falling slack.
“And I’m adding an increase to her wages. I’ll have it come through earnings from the company, so don’t worry about it coming out of your pocket.”
Charlie gaped at him. “What?”
Tommy checked his watch, not willing to explain himself. “I have a meeting to get to. I just wanted to tell you so you could start her on the other work as soon as possible.”
“Tommy, are you feeling alright–?”
“I’m fine. I have to get going. Just tell her, yeah?”
He didn’t wait for a response, spinning on his heel and making his way to the exit of the yard before Charlie could bombard him with questions.
∗ ∗ ∗
There was little excitement at the family meeting. Just a general report of earnings and a couple minor points of business that needed addressing.
“Right, that’s it. You all can go,” Arthur dismissed everyone with a wave of his hand. Tommy adjusted his positioning where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding in assertion when a couple of their kin looked to him instead for confirmation of Arthur’s words.
“Charlie,” he said softly, as his siblings and cousins started to file out of the kitchen and back into the betting shop. His uncle hesitated where he was heading towards the front door, cap clutched in his hands.
“Yes?”
Reaching into his pocket, Tommy pulled out a sealed envelope, double-checking the address on it before handing it off to Charlie. “Have Lucy post this.”
Charlie looked down at the envelope. “I can drop it at the post on my way back to the yard–”
“No. Have Lucy do it.”
“Who’s this?” Polly asked, pouring herself a fresh cup of tea from the kettle on the stove. The smoke from her black, clove cigarette rose steadily up into the air. She spun around to face them, dark eyes narrowed. “Who are you talking about?”
“It’s just…” Charlie began.
“No one,” Tommy interrupted sternly. He didn’t want Polly getting involved until he was absolutely sure of what he was doing. He already knew what she would say, anyway: that they couldn’t trust strangers. That they should just leave the woman to fend for herself. That she wasn’t their problem. At her clenched jaw, he tried to soften his tone, so as to not cause a row. “Don’t worry about it.”
From the resentful look Polly shot him, he was pretty sure it didn’t work. Her heels clicked particularly loudly, as if to let him know just how much she hated being kept out of the loop, as she stomped from the kitchen with her tea and into the betting shop. Tommy rubbed at his eyes tiredly, a headache building behind them.
He loved his aunt. Really. But oftentime these days he caught himself desperately wishing that she would just trust me. Even if only a little bit.
“Just give the letter to Lucy and tell her to post it, alright?”
Charlie was examining him shrewdly. “What are you testing her for, Tom?”
Tommy shot him a wary, irritable look, not particularly appreciating the constant questions he seemed to be sending his way too, these days. “Just do it, Charlie, eh?”
He shouldered his way past him before he could press the subject any further.
∗ ∗ ∗
She posted the letter, just like he’d asked. It had gotten to his associate in London without a hitch, and, as requested in the contents of the letter, he had written back to Tommy that there were no problems in receiving it; the seal had been unbroken, and the contents untampered with.
Good.
He still made an effort to walk around her whenever he went to the yard, avoiding speaking to her at all costs. But he watched her.
Charlie was right, she was a hard worker. She got up early and went to bed late. Her work in the stables was meticulous and flawless, and it took only a few moments of observing Charlie and Curly’s methods in other various work around the yard for her to pick up on it. She didn’t talk a lot, but that was alright. The horses adored her, and she kept her lips sealed about the questionable things she saw going on in the yard. And she didn’t ask too many questions.
He’d likely have to teach her quite a good deal, if he did indeed choose her for what he currently had in mind, but based on what he’d seen of her work ethic in the yard, she would put her all into it. And she learned fast.
“Where’s Lucy?” he asked, eyes scanning over the yard, searching for what had become the familiar shock of bright red hair against the gray landscape. She hadn’t been in the stables when he’d first arrived and swung in to say hello to Wraith, or in the warehouse he and Charlie had just walked through. He didn’t see her anywhere.
Charlie cringed. “In the kitchen with Curly. She tore some of her stitches this morning. He’s redoing them for her.”
“Is she alright?”
Charlie raised an eyebrow, both thankfully chose not to comment on the uncharacteristic display of concern. “She’s fine. Just twisted wrong while carrying a heavy box.”
“Tell her to take it easy for a day or two if she needs to,” at the smirk dancing across Charlie’s face, Tommy bristled. “What?”
“Nothing,” Charlie just shook his head. “There’s something else: she told me that she was down at a pub last night after work, and that she overheard two of the ladies there gossiping that their husbands are planning to attempt to rob the betting shop tomorrow.”
Rotating his cigarette thoughtfully between his fingers, Tommy felt his eyes slide of their own accord towards the house that contained the kitchen and living quarters. Interesting.
“She know their names?”
“Baker and Finks. She wasn’t entirely sure if they weren’t just drunk and saying things they didn’t really mean…but she thought we ought to know.”
“Right. I’ll put precautions in place. Just in case they do decide to try something,” try as he might, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from that specific little building, within Lucy was likely getting jammed over and over again by a needle clutched between Curly’s fingers.
If she kept carrying on like this, they were going to have to give her another raise.
The next day, two men by the name of Baker and Finks attempted to rob the betting shop, but were stopped by the additional Blinders Tommy had ordered posted there for the day.
And that night, Tommy lay awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, and thought about the value of loyalty.
∗ ∗ ∗
He liked watching her with the horses. It was in those moments that she seemed lighter. More at peace. And she was very good with them.
And he liked the color of her hair: such a deep, unique shade of red that he had never seen before. It looked different, depending on the light. Sometimes it was as rich and dark as blood. Other times it was as bright and as warm as a flourishing fire. He’d long ago given up on trying to tell himself that he didn’t find her beautiful.
But she was also broken. No matter how strong she appeared to be, Tommy could see it in her eyes. The desolation and sorrow there was enough to make him want to take her into his arms, and hold her as tight as he could.
One night, while walking home, he passed the windows of a pub, glancing in innocently as he walked by, and spotted her head of shorn red hair. She was seated in a booth by a window, three other women sitting with her. The women were laughing heartily, and while Lucy smiled with them, it was more restrained, not fully meeting her eyes. Even from watching outside on the curb, Tommy could tell that the emotional closeness enjoyed by the other women at the table was not shared with Lucy. There was an invisible barrier, preventing her from fully relaxing with or relating to them.
We are the same. The thought invaded his mind, and would not let him rest. No longer could he pretend that the thing pulling him towards her was just simple physical attraction or curiosity. The emptiness that he saw in his own eyes everytime he looked into the mirror was reflected in her own.
He’d started to think that they were far more alike than he could ever have imagined.
∗ ∗ ∗
“Lucy’s injuries are almost healed,” Charlie announced one morning, after Tommy got back from taking Wraith for a ride, returning outside after guiding the stallion into his stall in the stables.
Tommy hummed thoughtfully, choosing his next words carefully. Not that it particularly mattered. No matter what he said, his uncle was likely to give him shit about it for the foreseeable future. “If she wanted to stay…even after she’s healed…I suppose that would be alright.”
Charlie shot him a look like he’d half been expecting that answer. “Hm.”
“What?” Tommy sighed exhaustedly. Charlie shrugged.
“Maybe you didn’t lose the entirety of your heart in France, after all.”
“She’s just useful, is all.”
“Mhm.”
He flung his cigarette irritably into the ground. “I have a meeting to get to.”
“If she’s going to be staying longer, you really should come introduce yourself to her. With how long she’s been around, and how often you come by here, it’s just bloody rude at this point that you haven’t,” when Tommy didn’t say anything, Charlie soldiered on. “She’s sweet.”
“Then all the better that I stay as far away from her as possible.”
Charlie let out a soft groan. “Tommy…”
“Just stop it, Charlie,” he snapped. But his uncle remained unperturbed.
“You’ve been spending more and more time around here, as of late…”
“There are more things here that I need to keep an eye on.”
Charlie shot him a very unconvinced look at his weak defense. “...I’m just saying, she’s pretty, and nice…if you don’t make a move soon, someone else is likely to snatch her up.”
Tommy felt his shoulders go stiff at the suggestion, jaw clenching. “I’m not discussing this with you,” without so much as a goodbye, he whirled around and stomped away towards the exit, ignoring Charlie’s calls of his name.
His mind roared and whirled with confliction. The implications of what Charlie had said had set his hair on end. He hadn’t even thought of anyone that way since Greta…
He came to a screeching halt, as his brain caught up with his rapidly firing thoughts, and the realization struck him like a brick to the face that he very much had been thinking of Lucy in that context recently.
Jesus Christ, what the fuck was wrong with him? He had no business thinking or feeling that way when he hadn’t even spoken with the woman. The fondness he’d developed for her was completely unwarranted.
But his mind kept replaying that moment when their eyes had first locked in the yard more times than he could count. Torturing himself with it.
Because as much as he longed for another taste of the deep, insistent understanding that had looked back at him within those big green eyes, he had soon come to the conclusion that despite how much she intrigued him, or how much potential she had, or the undeniable pull he felt towards her, he could not let himself get close to her.
Yes, he had been testing her. Feeling out whether or not she would be suited to a more significant position in his organization. And she was. She most certainly was. But he had made the decision not to offer it to her.
The darkness that seemed to follow him wherever he went was eternal and all encompassing. He would not allow it to hurt her. Even if that meant that he had to stay away from her forever. She would be better off without him.
But still, he longed.
He longed for her soul.
Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!
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#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x oc#peaky blinders#lucy winters#lucy winters x tommy shelby#my ocs#my fanfiction
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𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎!𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 | 𝟸
Summary: Ivonne Rainer hadn’t met Dean Winchester in 2006 after he was hit by a car. No, this time, this universe, they met in 2010, when the whole Apocalypse deal started and Dean was made leader of one of the only remaining survival camps in America. Little did he know, one random raid would change everything.
MASTERLIST
RETRIEVAL
“So…” I was approached by woman my age, her brown hair tied up in a sleek ponytail. “you must be the new arrival. Dean really has a problem with you.”
I cocked a rifle, passing it to another camper, James Rhodes, who took it, checked it and nodded, seemingly impressed. “That’s me, yeah.” I nodded, folding my arms. “Though I’m usually known as Ivy.”
“Ivy.” She repeated, then held her hand out with a smile. “Risa.”
“Nice to meet you.” I responded with a small smile twitching at my lips, then I saw her still-outstretched hand and shook it hurriedly.
“Woah, quite the grip.” She grinned as I let go.
“Oh, uh, sorry.” I chuckled nervously.
“Nah, you’re good.” Then she smiled again. “I don’t see what Dean meant about you being a pain in the ass. You seem like you aren’t.”
“Just depends on who I’m hangin’ with.”
“Touché. Dean can be an irritating S.O.B, but you learn to ignore when he’s being a douche after a while.”
“Promise?” I smirked, making her laugh. I laughed too, feeling at ease around this… Risa.
“Hey, uh, Risa?” James interrupted the conversation, slinging a gun clip holster on his chest. “I’m about to head out with the squad to Missouri. I know the boss told me to keep an eye on Ivy here, but-“
“Oh, so I need surveillance now?” I raised an eyebrow, pissed off. “This guy’s askin’ to get decked.”
“Believe me, he is, but it’s just how Dean rolls.” Risa chuckled, then led me away. “You’ll have a much better time hanging around me. I’ll introduce you to the campers, get you started on something, and we’ll all be smiles and giggles.”
“I hope not.” I laughed.
“Yeah, neither do I.” She grinned. “Just a few things. Stay away from the hippie cabin at 3 o’clock, it gets hot an’ heavy in there and nobody wants to hear it. If you wanna earn Dean’s trust, you have to save his ass, but he doesn’t let anyone save his ass so you just kiss that sweet thing goodbye. And one last thing…” She rounded on me, “can you shoot?”
“I’ll fire a bullseye if you give me a target.”
”Alright.” She picked up a shotgun, handing it to me. “There’s a red dot on the wall behind you. Don’t think, just shoot.” I immediately spun around, my eyes locking onto the red dot. The moment I got a visual, I pulled the trigger, hitting it dead on. “Damn!”
“Eh, it’s nothin’.” I chuckled, handing the gun back.
“You’re a damn good shot, I mean, that was-“
“Suicide!” A man who was only an inch taller than me popped up, looking outraged. “Do you know what Dean’s gonna say when he sees a bullet missing-“ His eyes landed on me, and he looked confused. “Risa, who is this?”
“Right, I forgot to mention.” Risa gestured to me with a grimace. “Chuck, this is Ivonne Rainer, she’s new here. Ivy, this is Chuck ‘Prophet of the Lord’ Shirley. However, a prophet isn’t much use in an apocalypse. They’re only gonna spell D-O-O-M.”
“At least I’m the rations organiser! What are you, the boss’ woman?”
“Exactly.” Risa smirked before tapping me on the shoulder, leading me away. “That’s Chuck for you. He gets a bit sensitive sometimes. Anyway, Dean gets really touchy with the supplies and stuff, goes through ‘em himself to make sure nothin’s missing.”
“If he’s gonna freak out over a bullet, give me a bit o’ metal and a heat source, I’ll forge a new one.” I grinned, and Risa raised her eyebrows.
I held up a freshly-forged bullet, examining it for a second before putting it in the cartridge. Risa looked on in surprise, and nodded in disbelief. “You did it.”
“Yep.” I nodded, replacing the cartridge in the gun and cocking it before throwing it aside. “I’m prepared in a dire sitch. The boss won’t suspect a thing, so you’re safe.”
“My god, you’re amazing.” She laughed in disbelief, looking at me in awe. “Just where did Dean dig you up from, huh, lifesaver?”
“Jersey City.” I smiled.
“Wait- that’s a Croat hotspot.” She sat up suddenly, her jaw dropping. “How long were you there?”
“Two years.”
“And you survived?! No bites? You’re not one of ‘em, right?”
“I’m immune.” I shrugged, frowning a bit. “Never figured out why, but I’ve been bitten at, scratched, and never came out with a single goddamn piece of sulphur in my blood. It’s relievin’, but unsettlin’.”
“Unsettling? That’s a damn blessing.”
“It’s that I don’t know where they come from.” I sighed, looking down. “They just came to me when I was nineteen. No explanation, no nothin’, all I knew is that they were there.”
“Damn, that’s…” She trailed off, frowning. “that’s rough.”
“I lived, clearly.” I chuckled. “Besides, I had my uncle to help with the worst of it. Until we got separated, and I had to quite literally fend for myself out there.”
We sat in silence for a moment, which was all I needed, if I’m bein’ honest.
“So…” I heard someone chuckle, and I turned to see James. “I heard you were the new thing pissing Dean Winchester off.”
“That’s me.” I smirked. “And I wear that like a badge of honour.” Then I looked him up and down, thinking. Dude had a really good body, that was enough to tell under the strained khaki shirt that made his frame look more impressive and complimented his green eyes, paired with fluffy black hair. “Nice build. You ex-military or somethin’?”
“Uh, no.” He chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. “I used to be a detective sergeant. The muscles just came with the job.”
“You used to be a cop?” I grinned, then saluted jokingly. “Thanks for your service.”
“No problem. What about you? Any job before this?”
“Hunting, and more hunting, and more hunting-“
“With hunting as the cherry on top.” He joked.
“That’s right.”
“James!” Chuck came running up, frantically looking at a clipboard. “I’d ask Dean, but he’s out on a mission. We’re running low on edibles, how should we ration?”
“Women and children first.” James answered instantly, and I listened carefully. “Then ration with the elders, afterwards divvy it out to the rest.”
“Wait, Chuck,” I frowned, “how much is left? How much food?”
”Not enough to last a week.” Chuck replied.
“Then rationin’ it out is gonna be extremely difficult. With the amount of people in this camp and enough food to last a week, the women and children are gonna have everythin’.” I frowned. “You need to send out a squad for supply retrieval. Nearest abundance of food I know’s in Missouri.”
“We need Dean’s permission for that.” James raised an eyebrow, turning to me. “And he’s on a mission, left this mornin’.”
“Not nearly enough time. He’s hittin’ a Croat hotspot, he could be back after a week and by that time we’ll be in crisis. Scramble a team of semi-automatic experts, take a Jeep, hit Missouri, it’s the only option.”
“The boss is gonna be pissed.” Chuck scoffed. “And how do we know your plan is valid?”
“It actually works.” James agreed, nodding with a disbelieving look. “We’ve got enough men on hand to form a scavenge team, and Missouri’s the nearest state that we haven’t hit and isn’t a Croat infested wasteland.”
“Not my fault if your ass gets busted by Dean.”
“I don’t think it matters.” I retorted. “If people are starvin’, you need to do what’s necessary, not what the doctor ordered. Get a team together and send it out, see if I’m wrong.”
“You are.”
“Try me.”
Winchester’s Jeep came back a week later with the med supplies, unloading them quickly. I looked up from where I was busy hauling a duffel bag, and the first thing he noticed was the people eating in a corner, his eyebrow raising. Then he turned to Chuck, conversing with him for a moment before I pinpointed the exact moment he saw red. His nostrils flared, jaw clenching along with his fist. I turned to James, sharing a look with him.
We’re screwed.
“JAMES!” Winchester yelled, now sipping a beer can. “RAINER! YOUR ASSES, MY TENT, NOW!” I rolled my eyes, running a hand through my hair as Risa whistled lowly.
“Boss man seems mad.” She whispered. “Better go before he gets more pissed off. I’ll take that.” She took a hold of the duffel bag, and James and I made our way into Winchester’s tent, where he was standing there, cocking his rifle in a way that would seem threatening to a wuss.
“You.” He pointed at James, who instantly stood straighter, the latter’s Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re my second for a reason. Without contacting me, you authorised a raid that could have gone south so quickly. What got into you, huh?! Are you thick? Or a dumbass?”
“With all due respect, boss, we would have starved.” James answered calmly, which seemed to aggravate Winchester even more.
“That’s besides the point! What if we’d lost men? If someone had gotten turned? That blood would be on your hands, no one else’s!”
“With absolutely no respect whatsoever, I think he made a good call.” I stepped in with a frown, folding my arms.
“I’m getting to you.” He snapped, pointing at me before rounding back on James. However, I wasn’t gonna take that for an answer.
“I’m afraid you‘ll have to deal with me now.” I retorted, setting my jaw. “Fact remains that I suggested the only plan that worked in your absence when you were gone a week, and your second in command, the one who’s makin’ the decisions when you’re not here, led a squad, and they got back. Alive. Now people have food and water and they can remain sane. I don’t see how that’s a problem for you, or anyone, for that matter.”
“Shut up.”
“Ooh, make me.”
He pulled his gun out, pointing it at me. “Do not make me pull this trigger-“
“Dean!” James yelled, stepping in front of me. “Are you insane?!”
“She’s a smartass!”
“Hey, hey, put it down!”
“You don’t give the orders!”
“To hell with orders!” James retaliated, making me raise an eyebrow. Damn, boy. “She helped. She made the layout for the strike squad. She’s a smartass, sure, but she’s a useful smartass. A really damn useful one, because we could use an immune and/or psychic person right now.”
“All the more reason for me to blow her brains out. She’s a goddamn psychic, and I haven’t had the best experiences with those bastards.”
“Just see goddamn reason!” He persisted, holding his hands out. “Look, if she starts to go insane, or whatever it is happened with the rest of people like her, I’ll shoot her myself.”
I snorted. “As if you could-“
“Work with me here.”
“Fine.”
“Just…” James left a pause as he tried to find the words, “give her a chance.” Winchester paused for a moment, then lowered the gun, not without giving me a steely warning look.
“Ok.” He nodded, glancing at me briefly, “But you’re keepin’ her in check. If she steps out of line, it’s your ass.”
“Again, with no due respect, I can handle myself.” I scoffed. “You don’t need to post a bodyguard on me every five seconds.”
He let out a dark chuckle, his lips pursing when he stopped. “You’re actin’ like you have a choice.”
“Oh, yeah, I do.” I nodded. “Cause you’re in no position to order me around, since there’s clearly a power imbalance here.”
The words made him stop and rethink, and then he gritted his teeth. “Get out.”
“Gladly.” I smirked, walking out gratefully, happy to be away from that- “Douchebag.”
“Jackass.” Dean growled under his breath.
Well, that couldn’t have gone better.
#dean winchester#supernatural#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#spn#dean winchester x oc#spn masterlist#dean winchester x you#supernatural oc
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Every time i look at 1992 uwe tod i come away thinking that tod just..... should be weird. We can't be having normie tods running around... I want him to be this completely inhuman figure who tries to get close to humanity (because how do you personify death??) but deeply misunderstands some things, especially things like human behaviour and emotions. Máté is good at this too, he just did it in a different way, but after those two the effect is never really potent enough again. I mean, there is something to say for prods with humanized or gentle etc tods, at least theyre doing something else than mrak seiber, but it's not quite it for me at least. He needs to be weird because Elisabeth is weird and, dissatisfied with her life, craves a poem in the flesh.
And for me personally (this is not me saying gender non conformity is weird or inhuman btw, it's not, it's just hot and looks good) i want back the mayerling dress and all that, and the actors should be styled accordingly, if he's not going to put on eyeshadow and blush and get dolled up to kill rudolf then don't fucking cast him?? There are enough musical actors out there who like straying from the mold, the overlap between drag performers and musical artists is not insignificant. Hell, if despite your best attempts macho guys are still the only guys you can find, then cast a woman (trans or cis - for a trans woman the role might be easier/not require rewrites, because of vocal range), cast a nonbinary performer. You don't really have to change stuff in the script, someone who's not a man can still be a "prince" if the styling is androgynous. It really is that simple...
also this should maybe be a separate post but 1992 is so iconic for portraying mayerling as a romance, rudolf running to embrace tod, twirly dancing, Big Damn Kiss (rudolf barely notices the actual act of shooting himself, he's so busy making out) - up until the very end, when rudolf is dumped unceremoniously on the floor. symbolism. It's such a better deeper way to tackle the subject. Suicidal ideation doesn't just beat you over the head violently, mental illness/depression lures you in with promises of a "solution" but actually only offers a miserable nothing.
This is also why it's so important for Elisabeth to get dumped on the floor as well - there's more care in that than in how Rudolf is treated, Tod is obviously distraught, but that's the point and the tragedy of the show!!!! Freedom is fleeting, dreams are fleeting, emotion is fleeting, but yearning for them is what makes us human!!
If he carries her away the moral of the story becomes "if you die you get a hot supernatural partner that's obsessed with you!!!" No!!!!!!! The romance narrative is a big lie, suicidal ideation is a big lie, history is a big lie, it's all connected, but we always cover shit up with kitsch because some people prefer a simple romantic reading to the degree that they warp the rest of the story around it. I stg people have just replaced sissi movie trilogy fairytale prince FJ (1950s) with elisabethdasmusical fairytale prince modern peugeot king mark seibert leather tod (2020s) or insert whatever other boyfriend death you prefer
#tw suicide#mayerling is discussed#musicals#theatre#1992 has deeply dysfunctional people/entities obsessed with each other#also everyone looks like a porcelain doll#also to reiterate i hate fun and love misery :) yall need to put more romanticism (19th cent) and fantasy into your romantic fantasies#i have little faith there will be a truly good elisabeth production again in my lifetime jajskdkg#it's just all a matter of waiting for the next thing that may be less horrible than the previous one and trying to like it#xD#i did that with brussels 22 - it was very innovative and stimulating but in all honesty it needed more todolf maiming and weirdness
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having finished rewatching the movie recently, me and @a-forsteri I think nailed down a little about what fundamentally is different about the dynamic between the narrator and Tyler in the book vs the movie. Beyond the book being more violent and dark and the narrator being much less reserved about participating in all of it, I mean.
Fundamentally, the strife between Tyler and the narrator in the book is the narrator's failure to commit to anything. Blowing up his old life — blew up his condo, still goes to work. Saying fuck you to his job — acts like shit, takes until Tyler intervenes to actually 'quit' (he doesn't but Tyler does kill his boss so basically). Hell, even hating his job — he does, plenty, but he stores all his feelings about his boss in Tyler and pretends Tyler's feelings have no source in him. Pursuing his ideal of changing things — joins and creates fight club, project mayhem, immediately backs out once Tyler is shown to not be real. He does project mayhem assignments, doesn't even quit his real job. Tyler does it. A gift to him. The thing he wanted to do before he died. Thinks about suicide constantly — doesn't actually kill himself, never fully lives, either. Killing Tyler — he tries repeatedly because he gets it in his head, but fails repeatedly until he shoots himself to evade the cops. And that in itself is arranged by Tyler. Tyler tries leaving the narrator and that does manage to make the narrator commit to being fucking annoying, but not much more. Still not actually making choices with impact. The narrator had to know the fight club men wouldn't kill him. He backed away from the edge. Tyler ultimately creates a circumstance to force the narrator to choose and commit to life or death. Tyler is trying to make the narrator better even if it means the narrator chooses to kill them and even if it means Tyler is the evil guy intending to martyr them — if that's what's needed for the narrator to choose, then fine.
In contrast, the movie focuses more on his inability to let go of his old life. Slide. Tyler will haul him kicking and screaming and one day the narrator will thank him. Tyler says relax, let me do what I'm doing. The narrator can't let go — gets cold feet about mayhem, can't imaine sex with Marla, quits his job but only on orders of his new boss. Refuses to grow beyond him. Dependent as always. He can't let go of it. Tyler gives him a near life experience, tells him about the future he is crafting for him, and leaves him to sleep as Tyler works to secure their future. All the narrator has to do is let it happen. Let himself become the person who is free to change his life. Let himself evolve and break things, stop clinging to his past. Again, Tyler is trying to make the narrator better. They are less separate— Tyler doesn't ever tell the narrator that he has essentially given up on him, they're going to live separate lives now, he says the narrator has to forget everything he knows about them. And when he tells the narrator the truth, he says we don't have time for this. He will hold the narrator down, he will put a gun to his head if that's what it takes to force the narrator to let go and let it all happen. It is all always steps in his plan. For the narrator.
Both Tylers, making little chrysalises.
Book Tyler? I don't know if he wants the narrator to become him. He's more independent. He still cares, the narrator is still his purpose, but it was the narrator's refusal of Tyler giving up on him that provoked Tyler to his artfully megalomaniac ending.
Movie Tyler, he does. He wants the narrator to grow, become what he wants to be. That's Tyler Durden. Maybe they merge. But The point is— if the narrator would let go of who he was, every step takes him closer to who he wants to be. Tyler. And Tyler has less actions that speak of his own desires and grown independence, even with how much he does and plans, because it's all for the narrator.
Tl;dr
Book: narrator's lack of commitment, more independent Tyler, narrator pushes them into the climax
Movie: narrator's unwillingness to let go, less of Tyler as an individual more as the vehicle for the narrator's enlightenment into him, Tyler pushes them into the climax
Both: Tyler ultimately acts to benefit the narrator as he sees it
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