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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 2 years

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Wake up, babes! New gay little road trip chapter just dropped! By god I am determined to get through at least Chapter 6 of this bad boy before S5 drops. My original plan was to try to get through Chapter 13, but like. That was when I was under the impression the S5 release was scheduled for December. Not, you know, fucking September O_____o

I mean. I’m not complaining. BUT my posting schedule (what I have of one anyways) is going kaput XD Hope y’all will continue to read this as it inevitably becomes wildly canon-divergent.

HUGE shout-out to @xgardensinspace for helping with Spanish translations, local wildlife, toll road info, and Mexican slang! Honestly the whole reason I got the idea for this chapter in the first place was because we were chatting about street food in Mexico and I was like “wouldn’t it be funny if Eli tried to stomach extremely spicy taco sauce purely to show off and had a much worse time of it than he planned?” XD

Read on for a healthy dose of Demetri-Miguel friendship angst (it’s back, baybee!!!), a surprising reveal on how S3 Demetri spent many of his Friday nights, and Demetri and Eli continuing to annoy every customer service worker in Mexico!!! These boys are a menace.

***

“I’m telling you. These toll roads are bleeding us dry, Eli! Dry!”

“Demetri, you paid less than $2.”

“It’s highway robbery is what it is! By the time we get to Mexico City, we’ll have just enough cash to sustain ourselves on durito wheels for the rest of the trip.”

Eli groans. Demetri hears the passenger’s seat squeak as his friend throws himself back into it, slumping down like a wounded animal.

“Was that—was that a pun?”

Demetri clicks his tongue. “It was the best you’ve heard all day.”

“You and your bitching are the only things I’ve heard all day. I have no basis of comparison.”

“So my puns win by default.”

Eli only snorts. “I guess. But they don’t deserve it.”

Demetri gasps. “Next, you’ll be saying you don’t like my graphic tees and my quirky and charming socks!”

Eli sighs. “I was waiting for the right moment to tell you. They’re—they’re very dumb.”

“How could you?”

Demetri slaps the back of his hand against his forehead. He glances over to glower at Eli, who is still slouching in his seat like Demetri’s theatrics are physically paining him.

The taller boy wrinkles his nose. “Well, I’m sorry you don’t appreciate art, Eli.”

“I’m not sure how you define art, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a shirt demanding I ‘say banana.’ Or a cat on a piece of bread.”

“You gave me that one!”

“I thought you’d have more dignity than to wear it.”

“Then you must not know me very well.”

“I know you far better than I’d like.”

“Would you like to know me less?” Demetri taps the steering wheel. “I can do some research on how to induce amnesia.”

“Pass. That’ll just give you an excuse to re-tell me all your Doctor Who theories.”

“They are good theories!”

Eli scoffs. “Still way too canon-compliant, if you ask me. Season 9 was a mess. You can’t theorize your way into the inconsistencies making sense.”

“Wait.” Demetri squints ahead, unfocused gaze settling absentmindedly on a line of palms on the horizon. “You actually remember my theories?”

“Obviously, dumbass. You talked like one of those conspiracy guys on YouTube.”

Despite himself, Demetri smiles. All those months of being a grade-A Cobra Kai asshole, and Eli Moskowitz couldn’t bring himself to delete the “Demetri Nerd Shit” folder filed somewhere in the back of his brain.

Eli huffs, like a little kid being forced to apologize by some adult. “Okay, and not all your shirts are stupid. The cherry pi one is pretty funny.”

Demetri smirks. “You loved the cherry pi one. I remember you wanted us to get matching ones, but you said you’d be too self-conscious to actually wear it.”

“Ugh.” At the mention of this, Eli sounds like he’s eaten a teaspoon of sewage and is attempting to recover. “Imagine if we’d showed up to school in coordinated outfits. As if we weren’t being bullied enough.”

“Oh? You think Kyler would have taken issue with us having better fashion sense than him?”

“Kyler took issue with us being alive.”

“Biggest tragedy of them all that I didn’t get to pound his ass in the All Valley.” Demetri shakes his head. “But anyways, what about now? Would you wear matching shirts with me?”

His smirk widens, and his friend gives him a surly look.

“Place we bought it went out of business,” Eli mumbles. “It was some niche, kitschy site, and the link’s defunct.”

“Oh!” Demetri crows in triumph, reaching over to jab Eli’s side. “So you have looked into it!”

“Okay, fine, so what?!” He can’t help but laugh at how defensive Eli sounds. “It’s a clever shirt! Besides, now I can just kick the ass of anyone who talks shit about it.”

A flash of black and white catches Demetri’s eye, and he looks up just in time to see a tiny, white-spotted animal darting into the road. He shrieks, slamming the brakes and swerving several feet across the yellow line to avoid the thing.

Eli grabs his arm, matching his scream almost exactly. The brakes squeal, car wobbling and jerking about as he maneuvers it back to safety.

“What the fuck, Demetri?!”

The iron grip on his forearm does not loosen, even after the danger has passed. If anything, it grows tighter.

“We almost hit something,” Demetri says, trying to sound nonchalant. He gives Eli’s still-fastened hand a couple reassuring pats. “And my mom throwing fits about dents in her car aside, I’d rather not exile any of the local wildlife from this mortal plane. What was that little gremlin, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Looked like a skunk or some shit.”

“See? This is what we’re paying for!” Demetri gestures furiously at the open road. “Inconsiderate mustelids!”

Eli snorts. His hand begins to loosen around Demetri’s arm, but doesn’t fully let go.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t know about the toll roads. You told me you researched everything.”

“Okay, so I had one oversight. And it cost me half a fortune!” He wiggles a finger at Eli in what he hopes is a very commanding manner. “Let that be a lesson to you to always double and triple-check your trip plans.”

“I guess it was kind of short-notice.”

“Maybe so, but that’s no excuse for being financially irresponsible. Honestly, you might well have saved our behinds last night by convincing me to opt out of a hotel room—even if I am still slightly shocked we didn’t get murdered in our sleep by desert ne’er-do-wells.”

“Ha!” Eli’s grip finally loosens enough that his hand retreats—only to promptly return and give Demetri’s arm a triumphant slap. “I told you! See? Your know-it-all ass isn’t right all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. You win this round, Moskowitz.”

A lush green cornfield sweeps out on the side of the road, long leaves seeming to stretch for miles. Demetri’s eyes trail over the tall stalks as they pass, mind filling with fresh-baked tamales and shredded beef wrapped in tortillas. His stomach grabs at him painfully.

“God, we’ve barely eaten all day,” he complains. “I’m starving.”

Eli snorts. “What, 3 bags of Cheetos and a side of candy and soda weren’t enough lunch for you?”

“Unfortunately not.” He heaves a resigned sigh, holding a hand up. “All right. Executive decision: We are stopping for a real lunch. Check what the next town is, will you?”

“Sure thing, boss.” Eli spits the last word out, and Demetri imagined his friend rolling his eyes. Typical stubbornly rebellious Eli.

Nonetheless, he hears Eli still typing away at his phone. “Um…the next decent-sized one is Guasave.”

“Guasave it is! I’m sure they’ve got a taco truck hidden away somewhere in there.”

“You know they’re gonna look at us weird for ordering lunch at like 4:00, right?”

“Better late than never! I promise you my stomach is not going to care.”

***

“What?! No chimichangas here?”

Demetri whimpers miserably, frantically looking over the faded menu. He starts to regret stopping for the first taco truck they saw—a run-down little thing in the middle of a narrow parking lot.

The dingiest of lunch stands had always proved to be the most lucrative—until now.

Eli snorts. “Who are you, Deadpool?”

“They’ve had them at every other food cart we’ve been to!” he retorts.

“Yeah, well.” Eli rolls his eyes. “The further south we go, the less they’re gonna be into that Americanized shit they sell near the border. You should’ve anticipated this.”

“I’m failing to anticipate a lot of things on this trip, huh,” Demetri grumbles.

He scans the menu again, looking for a suitable second choice. A trickle of unease slithers through him.

He takes a breath, resisting the urge to grab Eli’s hand to steady himself. This is no time to get overwhelmed.

Okay, start with the things you know. Taco. You know the word taco. Also salsa.

Demetri Alexopoulos, exemplary student ranked within the top 10 of the West Valley High junior class, is not about to get an anxiety attack over ordering his goddamn lunch. No matter how Spanish and how incomprehensible his meal options are.

“I can’t make out what half of these words mean,” he complains. He does his best to sound casual—and like he’s not slowly being eaten by all-consuming despair.

“Translate on your phone, dumbass. Use WordReference or something.”

Luckily Eli is none the wiser. He continues pondering the menu, oblivious to Demetri’s ever-building—and very stupid—distress.

Demetri takes another breath, pulling his phone from his pocket and plugging each of the mystery taco types into the internet. Though the menu has pictures of a few, Demetri would rather know the full extent of what he’s putting in his mouth.

He hums thoughtfully, thumbing through a translation website. Tripa is a no-go—he isn’t particularly keen on eating cow intestine. Bistec and barbacoa seem like safe options—the pictures look good, anyways, and they’re only steak and barbecued beef, essentially. A few words he can’t find a translation for, so those are probably best avoided.

One taco variety looks particularly strange. Demetri types it into his phone and lets out an alarmed squawk.

“Wire tacos?!”

He spins around and seizes Eli’s shoulders, shaking them with urgency. “Eli, why are they putting wires in the tacos?!” he asks frantically.

Eli frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Demetri removes his hands to use one to shove his phone in Eli’s face and the other to gesture insistently from the ‘alambre’ written on the menu to the ‘alambre’ translated on the phone. His friend only scoffs.

“You’re so dramatic. It’s probably a local slang term or something.”

“Eli!” Demetri lets his voice drag out into a pained whine. “This has to be a violation of at least seventeen health codes! Should we even be eating here?!”

The shorter boy heaves a deep sigh. “They’ve had alambre at every other place we’ve eaten, Demetri. You didn’t notice because you were too busy stuffing your face with fried beef-and-cheese wraps.”

Demetri paces back and forth, head in his hands. “So they were putting wires in the tacos too?! Were there wires in my chimichangas, Eli?”

Eli only arches an eyebrow. “You tell me. Did you bite down on any thin metal?”

“No,” he admits. “But I wouldn’t know if they ground them up small enough.”

“Don’t you think if there was ground-up wire in Mexican street tacos, we’d have heard about it by now? It’d be kind of a huge news story. And anyways.” Eli rolls his eyes. “If it was part of some grand plan to…I don’t know, gradually turn anyone who likes street tacos into a cyborg, they wouldn’t just advertise it on their signs. It probably means something else.”

Demetri crosses his arms. “Then what the hell does it mean?” he demands.

“I don’t know! Ask the guy!”

Eli gestures to the beleaguered taco salesman behind the cart, leaning on the counter and looking as though every word of this exchange is draining more from his stamina bar.

“You ask him!” Demetri shoots back, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I barely know any Spanish!”

“Well, neither do I! I can’t speak Spanish for shit!”

“Then how do we know there’s not—”

“Demetri.” Eli cuts him off, putting firm hands on his shoulders. “I promise there’s no wires in the tacos. If there are, well…” He sighs. “I’ll sell the bike to pay your hospital bills, okay?”

“You’ll sell the bike?” Demetri arches an eyebrow. “Well. Now I’m kind of hoping there’s wires in the tacos. Maybe I should order—”

“Yeah, no.” Eli shakes his head. “No way in hell are you ordering alambre. You’ll do it to show off, and then have an anxiety attack all the way to Mazatlán.”

“Fine.” He lets out a defeated sigh. “I’ll just have to think of some other way to persuade you to get rid of that death trap.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I will do it someday, Eli! Mark my words!”

He gives Eli the “I’m watching you” finger signal before turning back to the menu. He’ll admit that some of the taco pictures, non-chimichanga and metal-filled though they may be, don’t look half bad.

He starts to trudge over to the truck, Eli following behind. “Just so you know, I am absolutely holding you to what you said if I find so much as half a millimeter of wire,” he grumbles.

The taco salesman is slouched against a shaded metal counter, looking tired. It’s as though there’s a finite amount of energy in the parking lot, and Eli and Demetri have already sucked up a fair bit of this man’s with their loud American squabbling.

“Uh…barbacoa tacos.” Demetri smiles meekly. “Cuatro.”

Cuatro. I know cuatro. His smile widens to a beam. That’s something.

The salesman nods. “Salsa?”

“Oh! Um…”

Demetri hesitates. He’d forgotten about sauces.

The man’s eyes bore into him impatiently, and he quickly assesses the pictures on the menu. “Green,” he decides. “Verde.”

See, look at me! I’m not half bad at this! I know colors too!

The taco salesman turns to Eli. “Y usted?”

Eli ponders for a moment. “Mmmmm…carnitas. Cinco.”

Demetri turns to arch an eyebrow at him. Trying to one-up me, are we?

“Salsa?”

As the salesman asks the question, Eli slides across the counter and leans on his arms, breaking into a gigantic, shit-eating grin.

“Deme la mierda que este más picosa pa que amarre!”

The taco salesman gives Eli a look indicating the man thinks he is a complete idiot. He exhales, face scrunching up like he’s putting all his concentration into not passing judgment.

“Habanero esta bien?”

Eli nods, still beaming like he won the lottery.

The taco salesman shrugs, although he still doesn’t look like he approves. “Diez minutos,” he says, sliding them a scrap of paper with the number “7” written on it.

It’s odd, considering they’re the only people in line. Demetri figures this must be the taco man’s revenge for having to watch them bicker over whether to give him business.

He turns away from the taco truck, walking over to lean against the wide, shaded trunk of a palm tree. When Eli joins him, Demetri rolls his eyes at him.

“‘Can’t speak Spanish for shit,’ my ass.”

Eli shrugs, clearly trying to seem nonchalant and not succeeding in the least. “You’re around Miguel enough, you pick some stuff up.”

Demetri winces. He forgets sometimes that Eli has nearly two months on him on the “Miguel Diaz Rubbing Off On You” track.

He hated that summer. He hated how busy Miguel always was—either going on dates with that mean Cobra girl with the constant scowl on her face, or locked up in a strip mall dojo letting the psycho with the snake tattoo slowly fill his head with poison. The texts from Miguel came less and less, and the distance in his eyes at their video game nights made it feel like he was slipping from Demetri’s grip as quickly and silently as a water moccasin.

The same video game nights, of course, that they’d had to stop inviting Eli to.

Demetri knows Miguel and Eli did stuff without him, too. And that was fine—he never wanted to make Miguel pick sides in something that wasn’t his fight. That, and Miguel might have been the only person Demetri trusted to pull Eli back out of the Sith, if he wandered in too far. If Miguel wasn’t there to protect him, to keep his head screwed on straight…

He shudders.

The months that Miguel was in the hospital were bad enough. Demetri’s stomach churns at the thought of what might have happened if Miguel had abandoned Eli much sooner—calling off their friendship as soon as he heard about Eli threatening Demetri at the mall. What might have happened if he chose Demetri sooner, and left Eli and his darkening path to the mercy of the wolves.

Or, cobras, rather.

Demetri saw what Eli was like, trying to show off to that Rickenburger guy and Tory Nichols and their whole rotten little clan. They seemed to know exactly what he wanted to hear, telling him he was strong and brave and tough and utterly invincible. Seeing every terrible thing he did and nudging him to do even more.

He followed them around for a few months longer and he would have ended up behind bars. Demetri’s certain of it.

In any case, the hurt of Eli pulling away had been a category all on its own—the subject of what felt like dozens of tearful nights. The first real heartbreak Demetri had ever known. But Miguel pulling away…

Kind, steadfast, annoyingly optimistic Miguel, who gave loyalty for no other reason than because he wanted to. Who stuck around at the losers’ lunch table when he had every reason to believe he could do better. Who saw Demetri fall and crouched down to touch his shoulder, smiling and saying he knew Demetri could get back up and keep going.

When Miguel started to build a fence between them, Demetri didn’t know what to believe anymore.

Not a wall, at least. Miguel Diaz is much too nice to shoot an entire wall up in the face of his friend. Nonetheless, he built something—something that made it feel like you were wandering through a deep, foggy, confusing wood to try and reach him.

And by the time school started again, Demetri was getting lost in the trees nearly every time.

And Eli got to have Miguel a little more that summer. For better or for worse, Eli had Miguel in a way Demetri didn’t know how to. Not even a year of friendship, and the two Cobras painted a world of their own that Demetri just couldn’t seem to slot himself into. And it hurt.

He can’t say which of them he envied more, to be honest.

“‘Metri?”

A hand closes gently around Demetri’s shoulder and squeezes. He almost starts, but Eli’s touch holds him steady.

Suddenly he’s back in Sinaloa, gazing into the concerned blue eyes of his best friend. “You okay, Demetri?”

“Wh—” He forces a smile, chuckling. “Oh, yeah. Just spaced out for a bit.”

He shakes his head to clear out the hectic, miserable thoughts. “Anyways. Habanero?” He looks at Eli and raises his eyebrows. “You used to cry when I gave you pieces of my Panda Express orange chicken because it was ‘too spicy’ for you. What gives?”

Eli scowls, concern dissolving. “That was years ago. People change. I’m not some little sniveling, weak-mouthed pussy anymore!” He rolls his shoulders, loudly cracking his knuckles for extra effect. “I can handle anything.”

Despite himself, Demetri snickers. “What, you thought Sensei War Criminal Kreese was going to award you a blue ribbon for downing a ghost pepper?”

“It’s not about that!” Eli snaps. “It’s about the stamina! The mental fortitude!”

“It’s about intentionally trying to make your mouth experience the heat death of the universe for no reason.”

Eli scoffs. “You’re just jealous. You accidentally bite into a jalapeño and you scream like a little girl.”

“Maybe I enjoy not having my gums feel like they took a vacation to the deepest pits of hell, Eli!”

“Wimp.”

“Dumbass.”

Eli bristles, clenching his fists. “I got it hammered into me every day for months that losing a fight was the worst thing that could happen. And now you think I’m about to let a pepper get the better of me?!”

“Well, now you’re Miyagi Do, and we get to pick our battles,” Demetri counters. “And Mr. L would say deciding on an opponent that’s a vegetable that literally evolved to not be eaten is idiotic. Not very badass.”

Eli crosses his arms. “The fact that it evolved against this is all the more reason not to let it come out on top!”

Demetri sighs. “And what, pray tell, do you hope to gain from asserting dominance over a zesty taco sauce?”

“Bragging rights!”

“To whom? I don’t think Kyler’s going to be quivering in terror when he hears. ‘Oh no! This kid can eat habanero sauce!’”

Eli scowls. “I can kick ass and tough out hot peppers, Demetri. And sometimes I run out of ass.”

“Still. I’m not sure what you’re trying to prove. Aggressive masochism really isn’t the power move you think it is.”

“There’s no masochism involved. I love the burn!”

Demetri clicks his tongue. “And that, my friend, is the masochism. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t natural to want your oral cavity to feel like the Valley during wildfire season.”

“Please, please never call it an oral cavity again. Anyways, I still think you’re bitter that I’m tougher than you.”

“Siete!”

Demetri is opening his mouth to reply when the voice rings out across the parking lot. His stomach twists painfully in on itself, and he’s once again reminded how long he’s gone without nourishment.

They practically sprint to the counter, all but throwing their pesos at the poor man who has already had to endure enough today. Eli eyes the thick orange sauce drenching his carnitas like he’s won the lottery.

They wander through a wrought iron gate into a nearby park, meandering their way to a thatched roof gazebo shaded by palms and lush summer trees. Eli admires his meal the entire way, and Demetri can practically feel the waves of hubris rolling off him already.

“So when exactly did you start craving Scoville toppers?” Demetri sits on one of the gazebo benches, taking a bite of a barbacoa taco (which is, admittedly, probably just as good as a chimichanga). “Did you automatically absorb 5 levels of spice tolerance as soon as you got that crazy hairdo?”

Eli shrugs. “I started ordering the hot shit when I went out to eat. You know, with all the peppers next to it. Built up some decent resistance.”

“Okay, then.” Demetri smirks. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Gladly.”

Eli raises a taco to his lips, orange sauce dribbling down scarred knuckles. He takes a bite and chews.

At first he seems unbothered, even humming in mild approval. It takes a moment before the color drains from his face, eyes widening with a terror Demetri hasn’t seen since the days of Kyler and his goons harassing them in the library.

And this is all before the noises start.

Eli lets out a muffled “mmmmmph!”, lips squeezing tightly together and entire face tensing. What follows is a sequence that looks like a small frog is trying to escape Eli’s mouth.

His lips twitches in every direction, looking as though they’re fighting the urge to let loose a scream. His breath comes in quick, shallow puffs, like someone tired out from fleeing a serial killer and trying not to pant too loud. Demetri can even swear there’s a wet film forming under his friend’s eyes.

Eli lets out a series of pained grunts, trying to hide each one more than the last. The fist not holding the taco clenches and unclenches, nails leaving red marks in pale skin. His entire body is twitching, and his skin glistens with bright sweat. Whether it’s a buildup from the late afternoon sun or a new addition from the habanero sauce Demetri really can’t say.

Eli whines, the pain apparently so great that he’s bothering less and less with disguising it. Demetri smirks.

“You okay there, buddy?”

“Yeah!” Eli gives him a stiff thumbs up and the most strained smile Demetri’s ever seen in his life. “It tastes great!”

“Does it?” Demetri takes another bite of his much-more-pleasant-tasting barbacoa. “Because you kind of look like you’re suffering.”

Eli’s terribly-watering eyes sear into him. “I am not! I’m handling it like a damn champ.” He flexes a bicep to prove his point, face twisting the entire time.

At last, little puffs of breath cease to be enough to rid Eli of free-floating pepper molecules. His mouth opens wide, releasing a hot cloud of sharp-scented air.

“That’s…okay, that was a little more intense than I expected.” His voice is tight, still attempting to conceal quite a bit of agony.

“You want to trade?” Demetri offers him a taco. “I’ll take one for the team.”

“Oh, please.” Eli curls his lip. “Demetri, if you so much as sniffed one of these, you’d pass out.”

“You underestimate my power.”

“I perfectly estimate your power, Anakin. Pretty sure this sauce would kill you instantly.”

Eli takes another bite of his taco, and the cycle of pain begins anew. He attempts to disguise the anguished groans as mumbles of pleasure, but Demetri knows better. Eli will fake badassery until he has burned his entire mouth off, and then some.

Demetri sighs. “Do you want me to get you some milk? There’s a bottle in the cooler.”

Eli frowns, temporarily distracted from the ever-raging destruction of his gums. “When the hell did you buy milk?”

“At the last Oxxo.”

Eli gives him a judgmental look, and Demetri scoffs. “What? I don’t trust hotel coffee creamers! Do you know what kind of preservatives they put in those? Besides, milk has less calories.”

His friend snorts, spice apparently forgotten. “Since when do you care about preservatives and calories?” He lets out a long groan. “Moon’s been rubbing off on you, hasn’t she?”

“So what if she has? Have you had her acai smoothie?”

“Oh, god.” Eli made a face. “She made you the weed one?”

“It’s not—it is free-trade hemp oil, Eli! There’s a difference!”

“When even did she make it for you?”

Demetri shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant. “Girls’ night. Sometimes she, Yas, and Sam would invite me.”

Eli snickers. “You’re not a girl, though.”

He rolls his eyes, unfazed. “You can be an honorary girl for one night. I promise you your dick doesn’t vanish. Besides, Moon has the best weed in town. And the best face masks.”

“Yeah, checks out you’d be finicky over skincare.”

Eli shakes his head, taking another (admittedly hesitant) bite of his taco. As he chews, he lets out a quiet, pained whimper, sweat on his cheeks parted by a barely visible tear streak. He grabs one of the gazebo poles, clutching so hard his knuckles turn white.

Demetri sighs. “All right, that’s it. I am getting you the milk.”

“Wai—Demetri!” Eli’s efforts are in vain, fingers snatching at open air long after Demetri is out of grabbing range. He knows Eli will probably complain this is the pussy move, but so be it.

Seeing Eli Moskowitz in distress has always been his weakness, it seems.

When he returns, Eli is pressed up against one of the gazebo poles with his teeth clenched. He looks like he escaped a torture chamber.

Demetri decides he definitely made the right call. He pops the cap and offers the milk to Eli.

“Okay, drink up. I know you’re a man of few words, but I still wouldn’t advise destroying your mouth. You might need it for something.”

Eli raises an eyebrow, teeth still clenched. “What, like sucking your dick?”

Demetri’s cheeks grow hot, and he mentally curses Eli’s ability to eternally throw him off-guard. “Are you offering?!”

His friend scoffs. “You wish I was.”

“Just drink the damn milk.” He thrusts the beverage into Eli’s hands. “I’ve had plenty of watching your dumb ass be in immense pain and pretend like you’re not. I saw enough of that while you were in Cobra Kai.”

Eli scowls at him, but nonetheless snatches the milk away with the speed of a particularly determined raccoon trying to nab an appealing piece of garbage and make a break for it before flashlights illuminate the dumpster. He downs half the bottle in one gulp, and Demetri places a cautionary hand on his arm.

“Slow down there, tiger. You have to make that last through three more tacos.”

Eli shoots him a white-rimmed glare. “Don’t tell me how to live my life.”

He laughs, raising conceding hands. “All right. Your funeral. I don’t have the best track record of preventing you from making poor life choices, anyhow.”

His friend puts the milk down to take another ill-advised bite of taco. It isn’t long before he’s picking up the bottle again.

“I can’t believe Moon gave you the weed smoothie,” he mutters. “She told me that was only for ‘really special people.’”

“It’s not weed, it’s free-trade hemp oil!”

“Yeah, whatever. Anyways.” Eli growls out the words as he starts to fan himself—something he’s sure to blame on the summertime sun, but is also coincidentally only doing near his mouth. “Not that I care, because it’s lame, but…why wasn’t I invited to girls’ night?”

“That was during your villain arc.”

“Oh. Right.” He bites his lip, looking away.

“And I’ll have you know it was not lame!” Demetri crosses his arms. “And we didn’t need spiked smoothies to get high. Moon’s home-grown backyard cannabis was plenty potent on its own, believe me.”

Eli perks up, suddenly interested. “She still has that weed greenhouse?”

“Oh, yeah.” Demetri laughs, shaking his head at the memory. “One time, Yas got so high that she wouldn’t stop giggling and hitting on Sam and Moon. That was my first inclination that maybe she wasn’t straight.”

“Holy shit.” Eli leans forward, grinning. “Did she kiss either of them?”

“Not while I was there. Mostly she was just getting real cuddly with them—slung an arm around Moon, tried to hold hands with Sam, the works. But when I went to the bathroom?” Demetri whistled. “Who’s to say?”

“Wait…so…she might have cheated?” Eli frowns as the realization seems to sink in. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Oh, please.” Demetri rolls his eyes as he takes another bite of barbacoa. “Whatever we had going on back then hardly had enough of a label for that to count as ‘cheating.’ Yas didn’t want anyone to know we were even messing around for a while.”

“Really?” Eli gives him a skeptical look. “Seemed like she was crawling all over you as soon as we started hanging out again.”

“Right. Well…” Demetri laughs uneasily, running the hand not currently covered in taco grease through his hair. “Her mom…kind of went through her phone over Christmas break. Saw some texts with Moon about how she might like girls and flipped out. Yas told me later the only way to get her to back off was by insisting it was all a dumb phase, and she had a steady, committed boyfriend. As soon as school started up again, she leaned pretty hard into the whole ‘relationship’ thing. To keep up appearances and all.”

“Ouch.” Eli grimaces. “That’s rough. Poor Yas—well, poor both of you.”

Demetri shrugs. For whatever reason, the thought of Yasmine preferring girls almost the entire time they dated doesn’t bother him much.

“To be honest, I suspected for a while,” he admits. “Before she came out, I mean. She was always feeling up my chest when we made out, but like…in a way that made it seem like she wished there was more there.”

“Oh my god.” Eli snorts out a laugh, nearly choking on a hunk of carnitas. “Dude. She was legit pretending you were a girl.”

“I mean hey, if it gets me some action, I’ll take it.”

Demetri really can’t judge. There were plenty of times when he imagined the hands crawling across his skin were just a little rougher, the knuckles a little more calloused. There were plenty of times when he imagined the waist bumping against his own had a bulge in the middle. Or that there was a thin ridge of stiff skin just to the left of Yasmine’s nose, right above her top lip.

Eli shakes his head, taking another bite of his taco in between chortles. To Demetri’s relief, his next sip of milk is much more subdued.

So he is trying to make it last after all. Thank god. The last thing Demetri needs to see is his best friend writhing in agony all the way to the next Oxxo.

Unfortunately, Eli’s next bite of taco is what really kicks off the problems.

The blatant cry of pain is Demetri’s first clue that things have gone amiss. After an entire meal of sealing suffering away like a pest in a trap, such an open display of torment is not to go unheeded.

“Eli?” He frowns.

“Fucking hell.” Eli speaks around a mouthful of carnitas. He spits out a chunk of food, and Demetri catches a glimpse of something bright orange in the dirt. “This asshole really threw a whole-ass piece of pepper in there. Right in the middle of the meat. God.”

He breathes hard, frantically switching between fanning his mouth and rubbing his (probably burning) cheek. Like that’s going to do anything.

Despite himself, Demetri laughs. He puts his lunch on a gazebo bench and strides forward, placing a comforting hand on Eli’s shoulder.

“Well, you did say you could handle anything.”

“I thought—fuck—I thought it would be fine.” Eli wheezes out the words like someone’s performing an exorcism on him. “Oh, god. Fuck. My entire mouth is burning.”

He buries his face in his hands, hunching over. His head bumps into Demetri’s chest, and the taller boy tries not to blush.

“Fuck, it hurts so bad! Make it stop, Demetri!”

He pleads in a choked wail, like he’s imploring someone not to take all his loved ones to the firing squad. His hands slide to the side, and Demetri sees thick tears streaming down his face. He lets out a muffled sob, any attempted image of toughness long gone.

For a moment, he doesn’t look any different from the panicking 12-year-old who couldn’t handle Chinese fast food, breaking down weeping in the middle of a mall food court. The whole thing had been a nasty spiral, the frantic tears only coming faster as he grew more and more terrified that he was making a scene. Demetri covered him up the best he could, blocking Eli’s chair with his long body and faking a loud argument with his mom to draw the attention away from the crying preteen.

At least it was mostly funny to think about now.

“There, there.” Demetri pulls Eli into his arms, holding him tight against his chest. Eli doesn’t fight it, melting into him like a soggy popsicle. His hands latch onto Demetri’s shirt as he caterwauls his woes.

Demetri rubs his friend’s back, and Eli’s wails soften to mere pained moans. “Owwwww…”

Demetri chuckles into Eli’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll protect you. The peppers can’t hurt you anymore.”

Eli snorts in response. His hands shove into Demetri’s chest, but not hard enough to push him away. “You’re a fucking dork.”

“Uh, I’m not the one who tortured myself with hot sauce to win a dick-measuring contest that was never actually declared. So you might be the fucking dork, Mr. Moskowitz.”

Eli grunts disapprovingly, but doesn’t actually contradict the statement.

Once he seems to have cried most of the spice out of his body, Eli pulls away and takes a breath. He gives Demetri a strained smile as he wipes watery eyes with the back of his arm.

“Okay. I’m cool. Everything’s cool.”

The offending taco finds its way into the garbage can outside the gazebo. Demetri would usually never advocate wasting food—starving children overseas, etc etc. In this case, however, sacrifices must be made for the survival of Eli Moskowitz’s mouth.

“So.” Demetri throws a comforting arm around his friend as they walk back to the gazebo bench. “Other than nearly burning your mouth off, how are the carnitas?”

Eli shrugs as they sit down. “They’re good,” he says around his newest mouthful. “Not as good as the ones Miguel makes, though.”

“Wait, wait.” Demetri gives Eli a skeptical look, arm suddenly dropping. “Hold the phone. Miguel cooked carnitas for you?!”

“Well…” Eli’s face scrunches in brief concentration. “Actually, he called them fritadas. So no.”

“Wh—no! Not the point!” He huffs, glaring at Eli. “You’re telling me Miguel Diaz cooked a meal for you?”

“It’s not a big deal!” Eli turns and glares at him. “We were hanging out after practice and it got late, so he offered to make dinner. His mom was working a graveyard shift, and Rosa was at her book club—”

“Rosa?” Demetri gawks at Eli. “What, you and Miguel’s grandmother are on a first-name basis now?!”

Demetri can’t believe this. He went over to Miguel’s house loads of times sophomore year—some trips with Eli, some without—and never once did Miguel saunter into the kitchen and whip him up authentic Ecuadorian cuisine. The most they ever did was walk to the convenience store a block away and grab some chips and candy. And now he’s meant to believe Miguel was cooking full-blown meals for Eli while he was out of the picture?!

He flings his hands in the air, so emphatically that several pieces of barbacoa fly out of one of his tacos. “How many times did this happen?” he demands.

Eli shrugs, frowning in slight confusion. “I don’t know. A few? We’d start bingeing TV and lose track of time.”

“A few!” Demetri scoffs, shaking his head.

Absolutely unbelievable. While he was busy painting all of Mr. L’s ridiculous fences in the scorching summer heat, Eli was getting spoiled with home-cooked food and probably repeatedly being told by Miguel that he was the coolest guy on earth. Maybe sometimes Aisha and Miguel’s terrifying Cobra girlfriend came along too, and they all had a grand old time eating Miguel’s cooking and making fun of pussy nerds who couldn’t do karate.

Eli gives him an utterly perplexed look. “What’s the problem? It’s just some stupid fritadas.”

Demetri lets out an exasperated sigh. “It’s never just ‘fritadas,’ Eli. It’s one of the truest shows of camaraderie there is.”

“What, is there some niche cultural thing about it in Ecuador?”

“No!” Demetri slaps a hand to his face. “You don’t—you don’t waltz into the kitchen and throw together a meal for anyone.”

“Oh. Oh.” Eli breaks into a shit-eating grin as it dawns on him. “You’re jealous.”

Demetri snorts, glancing away so Eli can’t see his cheeks turn red. “Am not! What do I care if Miguel made you dinner a few times?”

“You jealous little shit.” Eli leans in close, smirking up at him. “You’re pissed Miguel didn’t cook for you.”

Demetri huffs, refusing to meet his friend’s eyes. “I’m not pissed about anything. I’m just trying to figure out why Miguel only started doing this when we weren’t coming over together anymore.”

“I don’t know.” Eli shrugs again. “Maybe it was a convenience thing. And it was summer, so he wasn’t busy with homework or anything.”

“Oh, sure!” He rolls his eyes with dramatic flourish. “He suddenly has time to feed you substantial meals, but he never bothers with me!”

Eli lets out an exasperated sigh. “You forgot when he came back to school? He picked you over me when it really mattered.”

“Yeah, but he never made me carni—excuse me, fritadas!”

“He just made me food a couple times, man. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal!” Demetri gasps, clutching a hand to his heart. “What—does my souvlaki mean nothing to you, sir?!”

“Your souvlaki?” Eli raised his eyebrows. “You mean the souvlaki you tried to make with your mom and argued over how to do the whole time?”

“We did not—”

“‘Demetri, fos ton mation mu, you must add more olive oil! Your souvlaki will be as tasteless as Mrs. Hasapi’s décor!’” Demetri groans as Eli mimics his mother’s shrill, overbearing tone.

Eli turns up the tip of his nose, voice turning nasally. “‘But mom! The recipe called for ¼ cup, and you put 1/3! The flavor won’t sink in like it’s supposed to. The kebabs are ruined!’”

“Come on, I do not talk like—”

“‘Oh, god! The oregano!’” Eli goes on ruthlessly. “‘You poured it in without evening out the teaspoon! What have you done?’”

“She was so imprecise,” Demetri grumbles, crossing his arms. “Recipes have specific ingredient amounts listed for a reason. The guy who wrote that recipe probably called for 2 cloves of garlic because he tried with 3, and the whole thing was a repulsive disaster! Other people write these cooking instructions so you don’t have to figure all this nonsense out yourself and set your kitchen on fire in the process.”

“And yet.” Eli gives him a crooked half-smile. “The souvlaki always turned out fine. Even when you and your mom didn’t do exactly what you were supposed to. Or, god forbid, let the oregano go over the rim of the teaspoon.”

Demetri feels his cheeks heat up in a blush. “You…actually liked it? You’re not just saying that?”

“Nope.”

“Was it, uh…” He looks away, blush deepening. “Was it as good as Miguel’s fritadas?”

“Hmmm, well…” Eli scrunches up his face in concentration before turning to give Demetri a wide smirk. “I wouldn’t go that far. Nothing’s as good as Miguel’s exclusive specialty fritadas, apparently made only for me.”

“You asshole!” Demetri shoves Eli so hard that he nearly dismantles what’s left of his tacos. Eli breaks out laughing, bracing himself with his arms as he falls on the bench.

“Lighten up,” he snorts. “Soon as we find Miguel, I’ll let him know you’re a huge baby and you’ll never recover if he doesn’t make you fritadas. I’m sure he’ll be happy to do it as a favor to a fellow traumatized ex-Cobra.”

Demetri swats a snickering Eli.

“Still can’t believe he likes you better than me,” he mumbles.

Eli rolls his eyes. “I promise you he does not. He likes us the same.”

“But—”

“If anything, you’re the golden child. He never asks to use my study guides, or copy my class notes when he falls asleep. I think it’s because, uh…” He rubs the back of his buzzcut, smiling meekly. “You’re not the one with a history of…irresponsibility? You’re the consistent one.”

“Yeah, the one consistently not cooked for.”

“Hey, c’mon.” Eli throws a loose arm around his shoulder, guiding him up from the bench. “I’ll tell you what. When we track this fucker down and drag him home, we’ll all have a huge game night, and I’ll tell him to make more fritadas than you can eat. How’s that? Then are we even?”

Eli jostles his shoulder, and Demetri sighs in defeat. It really is very difficult to say no to Eli when his arm’s hooked around your neck like that.

“I’ll accept it,” he grumbles. “But only if you don’t eat any of the fritadas. That would give you a one-up.”

Eli laughs, squeezing his shoulder as they walk toward the car. “I think I can go without for one night.”

Demetri tosses his empty taco wrap into the trash can, a reluctant smile finally tugging at his lips.

“All right, Eli. Let’s go find Ecuador’s best expat pork chef.”

***

First a pissing contest, and now a dick-measuring contest??? Will the genitalia-related competitions ever end with these two???

Most of the Spanish translations I feel like aren’t super hard to extrapolate BUT, if you’re curious, “Deme la mierda que este más picosa pa que amarre!” roughly translates to “Give me the spiciest shit you got and tie it!” “Tie it” is Mexican slang relating to “tying up loose ends.” Miguel probably picked it up from the Latino kids at school, and then Eli picked it up from Miguel XD

Also “fos ton mation mu” means “light of my eye” and it’s a common Greek endearment! Never let it be said that I don’t strive for cultural accuracy in my gay fanfiction XD

Credit where credit is due to @xgardensinspace for suggesting Eli should get a hug after being traumatized by spicy tacos and being absolutely correct.

ALSO yes, I know it can be kind of annoying for fic to reduce the canon female love interest(s) of an mlm ship to “mean lesbian bestie” SO I’m trying to give Yasmine the depth canon continually refuses to! Like I do unironically think she’s lesbian--that’s not just a “now she can’t get in the way of Elimetri” thing, I promise--but I also think she deserves better than to be a 1-dimensional “queer-coded mean girl” type stereotype. So here, have some Yasmine backstory angst! Also I REFUSE to believe she was randomly all over Demetri in S4 because she suddenly got super obsessed with a guy who annoyed her not 5 seconds ago, I just REFUSE, that is TERRIBLE WRITING and very icky treatment of women and I could go on--

(tfw you don’t even ship Samsmine but by god, you are going to commit to Raging Lesbian Yasmine, and also Sam LaRusso is a dang catch, like who wouldn’t want her??? No one, that’s who. Having any teen lesbian character not be at least a little into Samantha LaRusso is simply unrealistic. This requires no elaboration.)

Yes, Moon’s rich family (including a mom who gave her high-quality weed for her birthday) has a home-grown weed garden. Also yes, Demetri gets invited to Girls’ Night with the ladies and gets spoiled with face masks. It’s what a fancy lady like him deserves, and he deserves to shamelessly hang out with his female besties without being embarrassed about it!

Also ALSO credit to @baldwinboy5ive for giving me the idea of Demetri being way too anal about cooking ingredient amounts in her fic “Fermentation” XD

As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request! (Tfw you’re rapidly running out of pics of Buzzcut Eli not in a gi to use, so you have to resort to cropping the ‘hawk to get him a pic of him smirking like a little gremlin like you want XD)

Chapter 1: Here Chapter 2: Here Chapter 3: Here Chapter 4: Here Chapter 5: Good news! You have already found Chapter 5, and are currently looking at it!

The first four chapters are also up on my AO3 page, SummerPhlox!

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vivithefolle · 3 years

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Can I join your anti-Hermione club? Is there an application form? (In all seriousness, I'm so glad there's someone on Tumblr who is anti-Hermione for good reasons. It drives me absolutely insane how much the fandom worships her. I respect her intelligence, but there are so many absurdly unethical things she does. The hexing of Marietta Edgecombe - I researched it, it's both against contract law and would almost certainly be considered assault - was crazy, and even crazier was that it's excused.)

Hahaha, no application form needed, just a lot of bitterness and a touch of rage.

Something that really annoys me is how people are trying to tell me I'm doing Hermione-bashing when I give her the what-for. Or try to say "but she was a teenager :(". Really, freaking really? So when Hermione scars people on the face she's being a teenager but when Ron is pissy for a night in fourth year he's a total asshole? No, nope, not gonna let that lie.

My issue is that Ron's mistakes are teenager-sized; making an ass of yourself during a soirée, dating someone you're not really interested in because you're flattered by the attention, getting mad at your friend over silly stuff, saying stupid things without thinking... teenage mistakes. Those are teenage mistakes. (Something could be said of his leaving on the Horcrux Hunt but. Bitches. Voldemort himself (a part of him at least) was there singling him out for torture. Not to mention the heavy blood loss, the fact that his family's in danger, etcetera... But of course nobody is willing to accept those circumstances, nooo, it's only Ron who's the sole responsible for leaving absolutely, right, "Hermione is a teenager :(" and "Harry has PTSD :(((" but Ron isn't allowed to have problems of course. Fucking hypocrites.)

Meanwhile Hermione wakes up everyday and chooses violence and not for good reasons. I mean when your first reflex to distract someone is to set them on fire surely that indicates some issues? (Later on she forgets that she can use magic to light a fire... against a plant. I mean. How. How do you come to the conclusion that you should light a person on fire to "distract" them but cannot apply that reasoning to a goddamn killer plant.) The thing is people just... because we're constantly told that Hermione is intelligent/has good grades/works hard, people are quick to assume that she's obviously the most mature one in the room. But being a hard worker isn't necessarily a "proof" of maturity. It's just that people's expectations are that "a studious kid" is a mature kid, but really what they mean by "mature" is "doesn't annoy me to hell and back by playing noisily".

There’s this huge manipulation that plays on people’s expectations: being coded as “the studious girl” people are told through stereotypes that Hermione is smart, mature and logical… and the text is quick to try to reinforce the idea by having her spout definitions (=”smart”, for a degree of it; it’s mostly good memory), scold others for being rowdy (=mature, except that she’s not above it all either and a big part of maturity also involves REALIZING YOUR ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES which, Hermione’s don’t, so oops) and have her solve some puzzles or explain things (=logical… but sometimes her reasoning is based on emotion and she just tries to find evidence to justify why she thinks it’s right, rather than go from one thing to another).

When people try to brush off the fucked-up things Hermione did with "well she was a teenager" or "it was the war effort"... no. Fuck no. She didn't have to wipe her parents' minds and memories, there was the Order, the Dursleys were treated better than Hermione's parents for God's sake. But the only thing that matters about Hermione's parents is that they can be conveniently sacrificed to let us know how brave their daughter is right, it's not like she's in anything called the House of the Brave or something, it's not like she's constantly being thrown in mortal danger and is scared but keeps pushing forward, no we absolutely HAD to have a plot point that involves Hermione destroying two people's identities so we know how brave she is (how was any of it brave? Bravery is risking yourself, not the life of two innocents who barely know what's going on and are in no position to fight back).

And with the Romione fandom trying to push back to "nooo but she was a teenager m'kay she had her reasons for everything"... You want to get back to the Dark Ages where Hermione can do anything to Ron and it's his fault for not being perfect enough for her? Because that's how you go back to the Dark Ages.

In concept I love Romione. In the books I love it till about Book 3 (and even then that's pushing it because Hermione's utter disregard for Ron's pet sits very unwell with me, BUT okay fine she's still a child, it's her first pet, she has no idea how to own a pet and she's not used to being mindful of others' feelings. Then she gets validated by the plot because Scabbers was Pettigrew and somehow that means Hermione wasn't horribly callous to Ron's feelings or anything... meanwhile had it been Ron buying Crookshanks and Scabbers being Hermione's pet everyone would have been like "but who cares that Ron was right in the end, do you see how horribly he hurt poor Hermione's feelings!!!"...

It's just. No more excuses. Hermione is fucked-up. As a person, not just because of the war. She had a vicious, vindictive streak that only got enabled through the books because she never was called out on it. And I mean, I'm all for standing up for yourself, or for slapping Draco Malfoy's bitchy ass ferret face. But fuck. When you're doing the magic equivalent of an acid attack on someone's face, when you're physically abusing someone you're supposed to love AND THREATEN TO DO IT AGAIN AS IF IT WAS SOMETHING CUTE OR QUIRKY, when you're brainwashing your own parents into compliance because you can't be bothered to lie to them or make the Order get them... You know how many fics I've seen that take the "I did actually Confund my examiner" exchange from the Epilogue and run away with it to make it so Ron gets in a horrible car accident or invent entire collapses of the Statute of Secrecy as a result of an investigation connected to this "ha ha look it's funny Ron cheated on his exam" moment? Why don't I ever see a fic talking about how Hermione erasing her parents from existence leads to the destruction of Wizarding society through the legal bullshit that follows? Because Hermione dear, did you think to alter "Wendell" and "Monica"'s birth certificates? Their marriage contract? Their VISAs? Their bank accounts? Otherwise you've just turned your parents into homeless vagrants hopelessly lost in Australia who can't ever find a home anywhere because they simply don't exist in the eyes of any government. But hey nobody ever thinks of that because it's so much easier to nitpick everything Ron does. The only thing folks notice about Hermione nowaday is Emma Watson's boobies.

... I'm sorry, I just... Ugh. People.

#vivi answers #ask #hermione granger #hermione granger critical #hermione critical #ron weasley #ron weasley defence squad #ron weasley defense squad #harry potter #harry potter series #hp fandom #hp meta

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cardiolove · 2 years

Text

“I wanna see if this kid’s heart stutters the way he does”

Fuck it i'm posting this it's been 6 months goddammit

Author Note: I have to mention that the losers are aged up to 15 in this since even if there is no actual NSFW stuff or anything it still feels weird to write about 11 year olds. This is also before the whole thing where Eddie broke his arm.

The losers were all at the quarry, they had arrived there a few hours earlier, around 10 o’ clock. They came so early because it was the end of July and by noon hours the burning sun would heat their thin skin up and blister it by the next day. It was now about 3 o’ clock and they had decided to leave since the atmosphere felt like it was 150 degrees and the air was getting harder to breathe.

“So, what shall we do next” Richie asked, throwing a rock into the murky pool of water underneath them, making the water splash and ripple in multiple small spots. They had put their clothes back on a few minutes ago as their skin already changing colors and becoming painful to the touch.

“I mean, Ben, Mike and Beverly haven’t been to Eddie’s house yet so we could go there” Stan chimed in with an idea to occupy the rest of their free time.

“uhhh, i don’t know guys. I don’t think my mom would let me” Eddie responded sadly, his pale skin glistening in the sun. His mother never let him have any people at his house unless she knew their parents and approved of them. So Beverly was off limits either way.

“First, ask. If she says no, we sneak in. You have a window, right?” Beverly asked, her short, burnt orange coloured curls waving in the summer breeze, blowing it onto her pale, freckled face.

“Yeah, stop being a pussy Eddie” Richie added snarkily, being his usual asshole self.

“Fine, but if we get caught, it was your idea” Eddie gave in, getting up from the rock he was sitting on and tried to remember where they left their bikes.

“Leh-Let’s Go” Bill said, putting on his shoes, long thin fingers moving the strings around into a tight bow. Everyone got up and started gathering their stuff and prepared to leave.

They walked a bit away from the quarry to retrieve their bikes and then they were on their way towards the house that belonged to Eddie and his mother, Sonia.

They rode at high speed on the streets that had cars scattered around in front of the different sized houses, the wind blowing though their hair and hearts pounding from overheating and physical activity.

They soon arrived at the Kaspbraks’ house and dismounted their bikes somewhere nearby but not quite close enough so that they would be seen by Sonia. Eddie, Stan, Richie and Bill headed into the house while Ben, Bev and Mike stood behind waiting for a sign.

They waited there for a few seconds before the four exited the house and approached their location

“So? can we come in?” Ben questioned, raising an eyebrow

“Nuh-No, w-we’re sneaking y-you in si-si-since we’re a-luh-llowed” Bill quickly answered.

fucking around there

Mike opens one of the drawers left unsearched and finds...a stethoscope?

“Eddie, what’s up with this?” he asked, tapping the cold, metal bell

“My mom bought me one a few years ago and I haven’t really touched it since, it’s probably full of dust” Eddie explains. Stan shook his head in regard to Sonia’s obsessive behaviour.

“I can see that” he said, dragging a finger on the surface of the tubing, wiping a thick trail of dust off.

“oy Stan, gimme that thing” Richie hollered at his friend motioning his hand requesting the object Stanley was holding around his fingers.

“why would i give it to you? you’re not gonna give it back” Stan replies, clutching the stethoscope bringing it closer to his body and away from Richie, in case he tried to just grab it.

“if you give me the steth I’ll stop fucking your mother” Richie chuckles at his own line, overused as it is he still finds it funny.

“ugh fine, what do you want it for though?” Stan rolls his eyes and extends his hand to give his buddy the stethoscope knowing that nothing good will come of a fight over something that stupid

“I wanna see something,-” Richie grabs the stethoscope from Stan’s hands “- I wanna see if his kid’s heart stutters like he does” he says, walking towards Bill curiously

“Wuh-What? What duh-does that muh-muh-mean?” Bill stutters looking up, his heart rate picking up at the sentence that met his ears

“What do you think? Shut up and let me listen” Richie says, now being next to Bill, putting the steth on his chest, cutting him off as he is met with a series of sounds, pretty bad because of the quality and age of the tool.

ba thump, ba thump, ba thump, ba thump, ...

Bill opens his mouth to say something but doesn’t get to say anything as he is met with the cold metal of the stethoscope, he swallows harshly now becoming aware of his own heart beating, it already being on the faster side naturally, the nervousness shooting it up even more making it race, even throwing a skip when he looked at Richie

“Calm down dude, your heart’s racing” Richie says making the others look his way. He tried to hide a smile and half succeeded, getting past the others but not Bill that was less a foot away.

ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump ba... ba-thump-thump

Bill’s heart skips at the remark that Richie made, he takes a sharp breath in “I’m cuh-cuh-calm, what d-do you mean” he said even if he definitely isn’t, he’s nervous as heck and can’t do anything to hide it since by that point him and anyone else that would touch him would be able to feel his racing pulse if they touched him.

Somehow, Richie managed to hide a pretty generous amount of blush, courtesy of Bill’s heart thudding fast and hard in his ears for the past like minute or so. Richie looked over at Bill’s neck, noticing his carotid artery pulsating on his neck in time with the heartbeat in his ears.

At this point, Richie’s own heart was racing in his chest hard enough so he himself could feel it, not nearly as fast as Bill’s but it was definitely elevated, he’s not surprised though.

Bill put his hand up and rested his chin on it, sneaking two fingers under his jaw to check his pulse, hoping the others won’t notice, Bill glanced at the brunette who was looking at his hand, fuck, he saw it, his heart sped up yet again but this time he was able to feel it thumping against his fingers. Bill wanted to say something, but he swallowed his thoughts making him let out a small, barely audible, gulp.

bathump, bathump, bathump, bathump

Richie, being the way he is, decided to see what reactions he could get out of the thin boy that was next to him, so as a test, he hesitantly pressed his hand to his chest, he was curious to see if he could feel it, which he definitely could. The moment his hand touched Bill’s chest he was greeted with the rapid pounding of his heart hammering against his sternum and the frantic breathing that was necessary to keep up with it. Doing this, earned the boy a panicked look from Bill, reminding him that the others are still in the room and that they are not alone, that also reminded him that the steth is Eddie’s not his own. That’s as far as he should go, here at least, it would be weird if he did anything else.

bathump bathump bathump bathump

Bill tried to calm his heart down, as much as it would let him, but his attempt was deemed fruitless since he tried doing that by holding his breath and failing in mere seconds only to lower his heart rate by maximum 10bpm, maybe even less than that. The moment he let go of the short lived breath, his breathing became bit heavier than before, bringing his heart rate back up.

Richie goes to remove his hand from Bill’s chest but Bill grabs his hand and presses it back harder against himself looking at the hand. Richie gasps at the action and dry swallows at the feeling of Bill’s heartbeat not only in his chest but also through his hand on top that was settled on top of his own.

A few seconds pass by and a kind of awkward silence starts to seep in, like when the teacher calls on you and you don’t know the answer so you just sit there in silence while everyone just stares at you waiting for a reply

bathumpbathumpbathumpbathump

Some ant sized amount of time later, the silence is broken by the clearing of one of the losers throats, attracting the eyes from the two boys to themselves

“guys, get a room, we don’t wanna see this shit” Eddie says in a joking tone, faking a disgusted face and pointing to the door, managing to keep a straight face for no more than 3 seconds before his lips curled into a smile and he let out a chuckle. Next moment comes and a chain of chuckles has started between all the other members of the losers other than the ones that were handling the stethoscope

At the sound of Eddie’s words, Bill moved his hand and turned his head away while Richie just threw the earpieces out of his ears, causing the stethoscope to fall and the floor making a thud s*ound and walked towards the closest corner of a room and just hid his face from the world out of embarrassment after being brought back to reality by his friends.

Eddie, now having stopped chuckling, saw Richie hiding in the corner, he didn't mean any harm with the joke but it seems like he might have embarrassed his friends

"Hey, i didn't mean it in a bad way, it was just a joke to break that god-awful silence" he said, an apologetic look in his eyes, he felt bad.

"We're not laughing at you, mostly at the, kind of uncalled for, joke that Fuckface over here made" Beverly joins in, throwing in a nickname that was sometimes used for any of the losers, it being an universal insult. She of course, didn't actually mean it as an insult, and it was obvious from the tone, so Eddie didn't mind it, although he rolls his eyes at it.

Richie, at the sound of Eddie and Bev's words, turns his head around a little bit, just to inspect the room behind him, seeing the two looking at him, Stan who was going to check up on Bill, Mike who was minding his business looking around the room and Ben who was reading a god forsaken book, like seriously, can he put the fucking thing down for just one second?

Meanwhile, Stan went approached Bill, he wanted to check on him to make sure he doesn't feel stupid, like a good friend does

"Oi! Bill!" He says, trying to get his attention.

Bill, turns his head towards him and moves a finger to look at Stan between the rest

“uhh, yuh-yeah” he responds, still as red as a tomato

and follow up somehow cuz idk

#bichie #cardiophile #cardiophilia

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fraidy-farfelle · 3 years

Text

This is my attempt at the Fluff ABCs for Frankie the Undead. Please be gentle with criticism because I cry easily. I’ve taken some ideas from @lovestruck-lasagna.

Taglist: @writingfromthetomb @beebubb

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Your dry sense of humor. It perfectly matches his insults and he doesn’t have to go out of his way to make you laugh. He just says what he’s thinking and you laugh and agree.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Frankie appreciates a good smile, and for many reasons. He learned to read smiles (fake vs real) early on and uses it to gauge people, so he pays particular attention by default. He’s a sucker for cute dimples, and loves the way your nose scrunches and your eyes close.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He loves late at night when you share the couch and he can read a good book, sip on some whiskey, or puff on a cigar. He really doesn’t care what you’re doing, he can tune out the TV or you prattling on about your day and make comments to show he’s listening. Put your feet in his lap, lay on top of him, make yourselves mummies in blankets, so long as he can reach his glass he doesn’t care. He just wants to be with you.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Stay in date nights are his favorite. He doesn’t really like to “share” your attention. He likes to either cook a meal together or order takeout and watch a movie. Particularly black and white gangster ones, or older horror films. Likes to tease you if you get scared and grab onto him. He’ll pat your head and say something like “oh there there, don’t be scared! I won’t let the big, bad monster getcha!” (Like your neighbor isn’t a 7 ft tall children murdering clown demon) If you go out, he prefers less crowded places outdoors.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He’s a spitfire and he knows it. He tends to explode and then after a few minutes apologizes gruffly and explains himself. “WHY WERE YA OUT UNTIL MIDNIGHT, THATS SUCH A STUPID THING TO DO!” “Sorry, Frankie.” “…… ugh just, please get home earlier from now on. It’s dangerous and I worry about you.” Definitely doesn’t hug you close so you don’t see the relief and worry on his face. Nope!

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He misses Amy desperately. He wants a little girl in his life again, although he’ll never ever admit it. He’s hesitant to make relationships because he doesn’t want to be hurt again. But, if you go out with him to the living world, you’ll catch him staring longingly at parents and daughters when he thinks you’re not looking. If you ask him what he’s looking at, he’ll shake his head and spit out a line about children being obnoxious but you can tell he’s blowing smoke.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

If the underworld wasn’t so dangerous, he’d love to drape you in the finest silks with diamonds and rubies dripping off of you. However he doesn’t want you to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. So, he settles for things you don’t really see in public. He also doesn’t like to be found out about it. Your gas tank is filled, the bill you were worried about has mysteriously been paid, your favorite ice cream is in your freezer when you know you ate the last of it yesterday, and hey, didn’t you spend this $20? Why is it in your wallet? If you ever bring it up he’ll just shrug and say “How strange!”

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He’s torn about PDA because he doesn’t want you to become a target because you’re associated with him, and people stare at him enough because of his appearance. But on the other hand, he wants to show the world that someone as worthless as him (don’t say that we love you Frankie) has such an amazing person that loves him. Will absolutely grab you and passionately make out with you with one hand on your ass and the other flipping the bird to the cheeky bastard that told the broad beside him to watch out for the zombie.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Panic. Sheer panic. He’s so afraid to lose you, any injury is serious and cause for alarm.

Frankie:*bursting into a hospital lobby, screaming to be taken to f/n l/n immediately**running in the opposite direction the nurse pointed in panic**bursts into exam room 30 seconds later* “Y/N!!!!! I came as soon as I got the message, WHATS WRONG!!!”

You: *sitting on the table, reading phone* “Oh, I have a sprained ankle and they don’t want me to drive so can you give me a ride?”

Frankie:*slowly blinking* “Uh, yeah no problem…”

You: “lemme guess, you heard my name and hospital in the same sentence and ignored everything else.”

Frankie:*hanging his head* “go wait in the car, I’ll go apologize….”

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Not actual jokes, but he loves to sit with you and insult people. He’s an incredibly sweet person to you, but no one else. (Except service people, like nurses and waitresses. Just the general public) he doesn’t think pranks are funny or practical, which is one of the many reasons he and LJ butt heads. If LJ or Will prank you or him, he’s raising hell.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Love kissing your lips. He’s actually really self conscious about his mouth stitches and constantly frets they feel weird to you. Neck kisses are another favorite and are extremely private to him. He also likes to hold the back of your hand against his lips and tell you what he’s thinking, no matter how mundane. Kiss his stitches. Please. Just do it.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

He has trouble saying it to your face. He’ll whisper it to you when he thinks you’re sleeping, and he’s been known to leave little notes around for you to find. He thinks protecting you is the best way to show he cares.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

The day you finally broke down and told him you loved him. He knew as soon as he looked into your eyes and saw your smile his goose was cooked. He was very abrasive and hoping against hope that you’d leave him be. He knew you deserved better. He was so afraid to build a relationship and love again, he wanted to distance himself and if he was an asshole to you, it would be justified and you’d do it on your own. What he didn’t expect is for you to be so kind to him. Upon your initial meeting, he had been a little harsh, but helped you (if there’s enough interest I’ll do a fic about it) and so when he subsequently was a jerk to you, you were curious and determined to find out what he was hiding. He finally had been mean enough to make you cry. He had never regretted something he did before. He immediately wanted to cradle you to him and beg your forgiveness. Normally when he insulted you, you’d have a snarky retort in reply. But not this time. You fell to your knees and clung to his legs and demanded to know why he treated you so poorly and proclaimed your love for him. It was probably by accident and you were so distraught you didn’t even know it flew from your mouth, but hearing it, he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care about the consequences, he just wanted you. Hearing that you loved someone like him made him so happy, he knew he’d treasure the memory forever

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Losing you. Period.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

What ISNT odd about this man?! A cute one is he always winks with his green eye.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I HC that he was born in the 30’s, so he calls you “doll” a lot but only in private. He uses your name otherwise so it’s not as obvious to people watching you’re together. He will absolutely refer to you as “the dame” to others. The equivalent of “the boss” or “old lady.” “William! The Dame is trying to take a nap, so shut up or I’ll shoot you!” You call him stitches to tease him in private and are the only person allowed to do so.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?) Either taking naps or couch potato time. Also, low key likes to cook with you. He can’t cook for shit, but likes to “help” by handing you things or chopping things for you. Is a super good taste tester, self appointed.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Stitches by Shawn Mendez (PLEASE DONT HURT ME!!)

We don’t have to Dance by Andy Black (referring to how he can’t really show you affection in public but he loves you)

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He’s open about himself and what he’s thinking, and will always take what you say into consideration. He doesn’t like to keep things from you, but he does omit some detail about his jobs if you ask about them. He just feels like you don’t need to be stressed about it.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

LJ picked up on Frankie’s fondness of you almost instantly. He and Will decided to do what they could to get you together in the interest of making Frankie less of a grouch. If it hadn’t been for them insisting that he was good guy to you, you probably WOULD have let Frankie’s prickly nature drive you away. It took a year or so for you to break down.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?) A powder keg of insults, foul language, and bullets. Has actually never called you a name outright, and would absolutely never physically hurt you. When he was deliberately being rude to you, he’d insult your actions rather than you. “Stop acting like a dumb broad!” Vs calling you a bitch to your face. He usually calms down quickly, and is hardly ever angry at you, only when you put yourself in danger.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He likes that he’s scary and tough looking so that when you’re with him, other men scatter pretty fast. Has had many occasions where he stepped away and someone came to flirt with you and he came back and had the pleasure of scaring them.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

You are not allowed to do anything dangerous, ever! Will teach you how to use a gun and how to counter things like chokeholds, so you’re less vulnerable. Will absolutely lose his mind if he learns you’ve put yourself at risk. He will shoot someone so fast for you. Takes every person as a threat to you and will pick fights with somebody that accidentally bumped into you. Do NOT test this man.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

You are an open book to him. He’s learned to read people well, and he takes his time studying you. Can tell if you’re getting sick before you can. More than once he’s handed you a bottle of Tylenol, leaving you bewildered, and shrugged and said to take them because you’ll have a headache in a few minutes. He can pick up on your emotions easily and has learned what to do to handle them.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Honestly, marriage isn’t that important to him. He’s not opposed to the idea at all, but like you’ve been together for this long, you love each other, is it really necessary? You’d have to tell him you want to be officially married. He’ll buy you a ring, to show that you’re taken, if nothing else, but he’ll wear his around his neck under his tie so it’s not obvious he’s attached to anyone to discourage his rivals using you to get to him.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

The smell of your perfume. Holding you in his arms and taking deep breaths makes all of his troubles go away.

#frankie the undead #frankie creeps #creepypasta

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patchwork-panda · 4 years

Text

“I won’t tell a soul” (BSD Nakahara Chuuya x Reader #3. Complete!)

“Title: “I won’t tell anybody”/“誰にも言わない” Genre: Romance Rating: PG-13 for alcohol usage and mild violence/language and a kiss scene. /////>w<;; Reader-insert is written as femme and 20+ Plot: You meet Chuuya at a wine bar and over time, you become close. Your regular meetings become something you both enjoy so when Chuuya stops visiting for several weeks, you begin to worry... When you meet again, you learn the truth... But do you care? Mini Fic is written in 2nd person. title is reference to new Utada Hikaru single

CW: street harassment, physical violence

AKA Chuuya saves reader and you get a kiss/get together :3

AO3 link for full fic: HERE

Part 1 Here Part 2 Here

It’s well past last call when you leave.

You ended up staying until past closing and, perhaps out of a feeling of guilt, the mustachioed bartender decided not to kick you out.

Because his “feeling” had been wrong.

Chuuya hadn’t come.

The bartender had offered to call you a cab but you adamantly refused. You wanted a nice long walk in the cool night air, which would hopefully clear your senses a little. You don’t want to go to bed tonight thinking about Chuuya or you might just wake up crying.

Because this was the last night.

No more.

You needed to move on.

As you leave the bar, you see a group of men, a bunch of hoodlums by the look of it, gathered near the alleyway to your far right. One or two of them give you an appraising look (you wish your skirt were longer but you make no move to tug it down) and to your disgust, another whispers something into the ear of yet another of their companions, who suddenly leers at you.

Ugh.

You keep your eyes trained on the road ahead of you as you walk past them, hoping to get away with nothing more than a wolf whistle but alas, it is not to be. One of them, a man with a scar over his eye, calls out to you.

“Hey, hey you! Lady!”

You roll your eyes and ignore him. You hated running into creeps like this in the daytime as it was. Nighttime is so much worse.

Not to be deterred, he runs after you and stops and slows once he’s caught up.

“Haven’t we seen you before?” he asks, looking you up and down. You suddenly regret wearing heels. You don’t answer but he acts as if you have.

“Yeah, I remember you. You’re here at that bar every Friday, aren’t you? Always sitting there at the counter with that short fellow, the one with the fancy hat and the jacket draped over his shoulders. Chuuya-san, you called him, right?”

You keep walking and scowl when Chuuya’s name crosses his lips. Scum like this shouldn’t have the right to talk about Chuuya like that, much less exist in the same world as him. And how dare this man call Chuuya short when he wasn’t more than a few centimeters taller than either of you.

“Hey, Missy.”

He grabs your shoulder. His tone is suddenly menacing.

“I’m talking to you here.”

“Let go of me!” you snap, tearing your shoulder away.

You turn to walk in the opposite direction but his companions are blocking the way back. In fact, they’re blocking every possible escape route you have. You spin around in a circle, only to come face to face with the man who insists on speaking with you. He smiles and you curse.

“Shit...”

He raises his scarred eyebrow. He looks amused.

“There’s no need for language like that, Missy,” he says, his tone every bit as patronizing as it is threatening. “We just want to talk to you. You see, we’re looking for ‘Chuuya-san.’ Been looking for him, in fact, for a long, long time now and we’re hoping that you can maybe help us find him. You see, we owe him a favor...”

“Well, you’re talking to the wrong person,” you spit acidly, “I haven’t seen him for several months now and even if I wanted to help you find him--which I don’t--”

You voice cracks and you swallow heavily. You hate that you’ve become so upset but that’s what the mere mention of Chuuya’s name did to you tonight. You were really hoping the bartender was right and you were absolutely crushed when he wasn’t.

“I don’t even have his phone number.”

You throw your hands up into the air, as if to indicate that you’d given up.

“So why don’t you just let me go home and we’ll forget that this whole conversation ever happened?”

The man looks at you. Stunned. Then he starts laughing.

As one, his crew starts laughing at you as well and you feel your cheeks flush in sudden rage and embarrassment.

“Look at that, she just ordered me around, didn’t she?” the man chortles, turning to his companions as if he’d just told a very funny joke. “A real spitfire, aren’t you? And a looker to boot! No wonder he spends so much time with you.”

He snaps his fingers and at once, two of his men come forward and seize you by the arms. You try to fight them off but their arms are twice as thick as yours and you’re still a little tipsy from the wine.

“Why don’t you come with us, little Missy? We’d like to have a chat with you.”

“Hey!” you snap, “Get your hands off me!”

“See, your friend, Chuuya-san,” the man says, a note of humor sneaking into his voice as he copies the way you say Chuuya’s name. “He and that pesky Port Mafia he works for... have been making things difficult for us smaller gangs in Yokohama.”

His eyes narrow.

“Unnecessarily so.”

They start dragging you away. Your efforts to fight back seem meaningless. Panic rises in your throat. You should’ve taken the bartender’s offer of hailing a cab.

“Hey! Hey!!”

You struggle and fight harder but it’s no use.

“And our boss gets the feeling they’re going to be a lot more willing to negotiate with us,” the man continues, following you as you’re pulled backwards by the arms. “If we have a proper bargaining chip.”

His lip curls into that disgusting leer.

“Especially that midget. Can’t wait to see his face after he sees you missing a few fingers.”

You stiffen. Your eyes narrow.

“You asshole...” you growl.

You shoot him a piercing glare.

How dare he talk about Chuuya--your Chuuya--like that.

“Keep Chuuya’s name out of your fucking mouth,” you spit, “you piece of shit--”

He silences you with a slap across the face and you stumble. The men behind you keep holding you up. Your cheek stings.

“Stupid bitch.”

He laughs and the men laugh with him.

“We’ll see how brave you are after we cut you up.”

As you continue to struggle, they drag you into the alley.

Tears of helpless rage fill your eyes. This was stupid. You were stupid. You should’ve just stayed away like your coworker said.

Now these assholes were going to take you away, do who-knew-what to you, and because of your own foolishness, you would never get to see Chuuya again.

You bite your lip.

Chuuya...

You’re trying not to cry.

Help me...

Just then, a harsh voice cuts through the night. It’s quiet but it rings with authority.

And barely suppressed rage.

“Let go of her.”

You stop struggling immediately. You’d know that voice anywhere.

As one, you and the men gripping you by the arms turn to look down the alleyway, where you see a lone figure standing there at the very end of the street. He is a black shape outlined against the backdrop of the downtown streets, his dark clothes bathed in the harsh blue and red glow of signs made of neon lights. His face is in shadow, but...

The lone figure wears a fancy black hat and a jacket draped over both shoulders.

Chuuya.

“Chuuya-san...!”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You want to say more. You want to call out to him, loud enough for him to actually hear but for some reason you cannot. Something’s wrong with him tonight. His very presence is unnerving and without knowing why, you begin to tremble.

“Well, look who’s here,” the man with the scar crows.

He takes a knife out of his pocket.

“Nakahara Chuuya. We’ve been looking for you. Come with us. Our boss needs to have a little talk with you. And if you don’t...”

He holds the knife at your throat. You hold your breath as it presses against your flesh.

“The Missy here gets it.”

Chuuya steps forward and out of the shadows and at once, you know why you’re suddenly afraid. You feel the men holding your arms falter.

There’s an odd red glow around Chuuya, around his entire outline. As he steps forward, his long black jacket begins to lift off his shoulders in an unseen wind, billowing around him like a cape. You think you hear something like a dull roar echoing throughout the alleyway and when Chuuya looks up, his gaze is fierce. His eyes burn like twin blue flames in the night.

This isn’t the same Chuuya who’d flirted with you at the bar.

This man is something else.

He continues towards you.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Chuuya snarls, his teeth bared.

When his foot hits the pavement, it cracks underfoot. Rubble rises into the air all around him, glowing red like the aura around Chuuya’s body.

“Get.”

Another step forward. The pavement breaks yet again. It’s as if Chuuya’s weight has increased threefold when he took that second step towards you.

“Your.”

The roaring sound grows louder. More rubble rises into the air.

“Filthy.”

Chuuya’s footsteps grow heavier. He’s now leaving craters in his wake. You don’t understand how it’s happening but the rubble is now orbiting around his body like the rings of a planet.

“Hands.”

The men loosen their hold on you but they haven’t let go. Chuuya sees this and his eyes seem to glow more fiercely in the dark. He looks utterly terrifying.

“Off.”

Chuuya grabs a handful of the rubble around him and draws his hand back. He steps into a pool of dim red light and his body looks like it’s bathed in blood.

“My woman.”

He takes out a stone, flips it into the air like a coin and flicks it with his thumb.

You don’t even see it move.

There’s just a brief whistling sound and a crack.

The arm of the scarred man--the arm holding a knife to your throat--explodes in a shower of blood. Some of it splatters the front of your dress. You’re so shocked, you don’t even scream.

The man next to you, however, does.

He lets out a howl of pain, clutching his ruined arm and dropping to the his knees, his knife clattering uselessly to the ground in front of you. He’s crying and screaming about his arm, blood gushing from the stump of his elbow and into the street. The puddle inches towards your shoes.

The men holding you drop your arms and tear off into the night--the entire crew goes running back towards the street, leaving you in the middle of the alleyway between them and Chuuya.

Chuuya’s bright blue eyes narrow and he repeats his earlier movement, flicking several more stones towards the men in the alleyway with deadly precision. One by one, the men drop to the ground, their screams cut short. The last one is quicker on his feet than his companions and is just about to round the corner when Chuuya crouches down and leaps into the air.

You watch in awe, turning to follow his movements as he soars over you, gracefully arcing through the sky, his body suddenly as light as a feather. The stones follow him, continuing to orbit around him in a ring like a miniature belt of asteroids. With one flick of his wrist, several rocket towards the man who’s almost made it into the street. You turn your face away as you hear the dull, wet squelching of the stones tearing through his body, splattering his organs on the nearby buildings and sidewalk.

The man next to you is still crying and clutching his arm. He rushes past you, desperate to escape.

You can’t see Chuuya, but you know where he is.

You start towards his location but within moments, he’s in the sky again. You whirl around to see him several paces behind you, standing before the man whose arm he destroyed.

He grabs the man by the throat and slams him against the wall. Cracks appear in the drywall behind his body. Miraculously, he doesn’t pass out.

“You tell your boss,” Chuuya hisses, his tone low and menacing, “that if you try this shit again, I’ll send what’s left of his cronies back to him in a fucking bento box.”

He slams the man against the wall again.

“If you’ve got business with me or with the Port Mafia, then it stays with us. You got that?”

The man nods, tears streaming down his face.

Chuuya lets go of him at last and he crumples to the ground in a heap.

Scowling, Chuuya turns to you at last, the glow in his blue eyes suddenly fading as the red-tinted aura around him dissipates. Behind him, the scarred man scrambles to his feet and scampers off into the night.

“Chuuya--” you start but he is in no mood to let you finish.

“You,” Chuuya growls, stalking forward. “What were you doing out here so late at night? Are you an idiot? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

You’re stunned. After all this time, he’s angry?

“I came looking for you,” you protest, equally bewildered and hurt by the sheer anger in his voice. “I haven’t seen you in so long and--and you never gave me a single way to find you--Chuuya, I--”

“Why would you do that?!” he roars, slamming his fist against the wall.

No crater appears, but the drywall cracks.

Chuuya grits his teeth. He seems to have difficulty looking at you. He drops his gaze and the brim of his hat falls over his eyes, obscuring his face. Bits of drywall crumble down around his gloved hand. His fist is shaking.

“Why would you try to find me?” he asks, his voice hushed.

He’s asking you this? Why is he asking you this?

“Because...”

Your hands clench into fists when Chuuya does not not look up.

Fuck.

You bite your lip, hard, so that you don’t cry.

After all this time, he won’t even look at you? After everything you’ve been through? After all this??

“You really don’t get it?” you ask quietly, holding back those hot, bitter tears.

Chuuya doesn’t answer. Still doesn’t look up.

Why won’t he look at you?

It makes you angry. Angrier than you’ve been in years. You want to scream.

“You want to know why I came looking for you?” you ask bitterly.

Chuuya inclines his head slightly, which you take to be a nod. Pissed, you take a step towards him.

“It’s because I missed you, you fucking dumbass!”

Chuuya twitches violently.

He looks up, a mixture of shock and wonder clearly visible in the depths of his deep blue eyes. He looks mesmerized by you.

He’s not moving so you take another step towards him, suddenly feeling like you’re approaching a skittish alley cat. You hold out your hands when you speak.

“Don’t you understand, Chuuya-san? I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you so bad.”

You don’t care that he just maimed or even killed several people in front of you, that he has power beyond imagining and could turn his Gift on you if he so wished. He killed those men to save you.

To you, he was still Chuuya-san.

He was your Chuuya.

“I came looking for you... because you never even said goodbye. I didn’t have your phone number, or address. I don’t even know where you work or what your last name is. Chuuya, I had no way of contacting you.”

“That was the whole point,” Chuuya interrupts but you talk over him.

“So when I heard you might be here tonight,” you say, loud enough that he has to stop talking. “I had to come. I had to, you understand?”

Chuuya falls silent. His expression is contemplative, with an undercurrent of pain. His deep blue eyes are fully focused on you.

It was the same face he made the night he left the bar all those months ago.

“Chuuya-san...”

You swallow, ready to ask the question you’re afraid to hear the answer to.

“Didn’t you want to see me, too?”

But Chuuya doesn’t answer. Hot pinpricks sting your eyes. Shit. You’re going to cry.

“I see,” you say stiffly.

You gather your jacket more tightly about your body, preparing to leave.

“Sorry to have bothered you.”

You’re about to turn around and go when you see Chuuya’s fist tightening. With a start, you see his jaw tensing up. He’s gritting his teeth too. But he still doesn’t speak. You sigh.

“Goodbye,” you whisper. “Chuuya--”

“Wait.”

Chuuya rushes forward and before you can finish speaking, he’s gathered you in his arms in a fierce hug. His grip on you is so tight that you can hardly breathe.

“I did,” he whispers.

His voice is so small you can barely hear it.

“I wanted to see you too.”

“Chuuya-san...”

“The barkeep told me everything,” he growls. “He told me that you’ve been coming here almost every Friday night at our usual time. That you’ve been looking for me.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder and you reach up to comfort him. You gently pat his back.

“And waiting.”

“Chuuya-san.”

You swallow thickly.

“Tell me the truth. Why didn’t you want me looking for you? Are you...?”

You feel his arms around you tensing. He knows what you’re about to ask.

“Are you really with the Port Mafia?”

For a long, heavy moment, Chuuya doesn’t answer. But when he does, his voice sounds slightly hoarse.

“I am.”

As he speaks, you can feel his grip around you tightening, his arms wrapping more securely around your shoulders and waist, as if letting go of you would mean letting go of you for good.

“Chuuya-san...”

Your fingers slowly curl into fists against his chest and the expensive fabric of his jacket wrinkles beneath your touch.

“My full name is Nakahara Chuuya,” he whispers against your hair. “And I’m not just any member of the Port Mafia. I’m one of the executives.”

Involuntarily, you stiffen and the instant he feels your fingers twitch against his chest, Chuuya groans.

“I knew this would happen. I knew it would. Fuck.”

His arms loosen and unfold from around you. He’s pulling away.

But before he can, you reach out.

“Wait, Chuuya! Don’t go!”

You grab fistfuls of his jacket and pull on it to stop him from leaving. You bury your face in his shoulder and he stops short. You feel his sharp intake of breath.

“Please,” you whisper. “Don’t leave again.”

“H-hey...”

Chuuya’s voice is flustered and unsteady. But he doesn’t move away.

“I kept thinking about it, you know...” you mumble, closing your eyes as you feel Chuuya’s black-gloved hand smoothing down your hair.

“About the way you look when you’re sitting there at the bar with me. The way you laugh when we talk. The way you look at me when we’re together. You were wonderful. Chuuya-san... You’re not a bad person, I know you’re not.”

“But I’m not a good guy,” Chuuya insists.

He drops his hand. Now he’s just standing there as you continue to cling to him. You lift your head and look right into his eyes, which widen in sudden surprise.

“I don’t care whether Chuuya-san is a good guy or a bad guy!” you exclaim. “All I know is... I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as your smile.”

Chuuya stiffens. You can barely feel him breathing.

“You...” he starts, and the emotion in his voice is enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You really think that?”

You nod vigorously.

“Yes. Yes, I do. I think about you all the time... Chuuya.”

I care about you...

He wraps his arms around you and, wordlessly, you do the same. For a moment, you just stand there together, locked in a silent embrace in the middle of this dark, bloodstained alleyway. You nestle your face against the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like the subtle musk and spice of an expensive cologne, like roses and gun smoke and something more, something uniquely Chuuya...

Finally he speaks.

“I can’t leave the Port Mafia, you know,” he says in an undertone, his fingers stroking through your hair.

“I know.”

In response, you hold him tighter. There’s a subtle wrenching in your gut, but you won’t let go.

“I’m not asking you to. It’s fine.”

“This isn’t going to be the last time this happens,” Chuuya protests, “You could get hurt.”

“I said it’s okay,” you insist. “Just...”

You swallow with some difficulty. You know what you’re asking and you know how selfish it is... but you can’t let go of him.

“Just let me stay by your side.”

You press yourself further into him. His body is warm, still humming with some kind of energy, but beneath that well-fitted vest, you can feel his heart beating against yours.

“Please.”

Time passes. You stay like this for what feels like hours but you aren’t willing to let go. Neither, it seems, is Chuuya. Finally, he sighs.

“I knew you were special from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he says, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. You can feel the low rumble of his silent laughter travel through his compact frame and despite your worry, you feel better.

“I just didn’t realize,” Chuuya murmurs, “that ‘special’ meant ‘crazy.’“

“If I’m crazy,” you laugh, “then it’s only because I’ve gone crazy for you.”

The words are out of your mouth before you even realize what you’ve said and upon hearing you, Chuuya lets out a bark of a laugh.

“You,” he cackles, “you really are something, you know that?”

His laughter fading, Chuuya loosens his hold on you. He lets you pull back just enough so that he can see your face but not enough that you can move out of his arms--not that you want to. Even in the dim lighting in this dingy alleyway, Chuuya looks so beautiful up close. His deep blue eyes gleam brightly as they stare into yours and without thinking about it, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips.

And then Chuuya smiles. Really smiles.

His grin is toothy and somewhat lopsided with obvious delight, and yet, his expression still doesn’t lose any of that cool, self-assured energy you’ve come to associate with Chuuya and only Chuuya.

You smile back. Your body grows warm.

Yes. This is the smile you wanted to see. The smile you’d missed so much for the last few months that it nearly killed you to think that you might not see it again. But right now, Chuuya’s smile is different. Good different.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him looking quite so happy before.

“Chuuya...”

Wordlessly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as one of his hands slides down to your waist. Chuuya places two black-gloved fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face towards his.

“Makes sense that you would be something special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your lips. “You are mine, after all.”

You close your eyes and the distance between you disappears. Chuuya’s lips are soft and sweet as they move against yours and you feel your breath hitch in your throat as his tongue ghosts over your upper lip. He feels so good and you cling to him as he deepens the kiss, pressing your body to his so tightly, you half wonder if you might be crushed by his strength.

But you like it.

You like the feel of his arms around your body, the way he grips you so tightly that his fingers dimple your flesh, the way he tastes--no wine could ever be as intoxicating as the man called Nakahara Chuuya...

When you come up for air at last, you’re both breathless.

”Wow,” Chuuya breathes, sounding just as dazed as you feel, “You’re... You’re a really good kisser...”

“So are you,” is all you manage to gasp before he dives back in for more.

As the moon rises high in the sky above you, you part at last, flushed and giddy and dizzy with joy. Chuuya takes your hand and leads you out of the alleyway, back to the bar you thought was closed.

He raps on the door with one black-gloved hand, the other tightly gripping yours, and turns back to shoot you that signature cocky grin when that same mustachioed bartender opens the door at last.

“I think it’s time we call you that cab,” Chuuya laughs as he pulls you inside the warmth of the empty room. “But I’ll meet you here again tomorrow, okay? Same time as usual.”

You nod. You’re smiling so hard it almost hurts but you’re just so happy...!

“It’s a date,” you say, to which Chuuya’s grin grows only wider. “So don’t go blowing me off this time.”

Laughing, he tugs you back towards him and presses another kiss to your lips, his grin returning as soon as he pulls away. His blue eyes shine like a bright, cloudless sky.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, holding you close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #nakahara chuuya x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou sd #nakahara chuuya #nakahara chuuya x y/n

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ae0nx · 3 years

Text

FRUITS BASKET S3 EPISODE 1 + 2 RECAP!

Yayyy! Season 3! Finally! I’m hoping this season will make me understand/sympathise with Akito and maybe even Shigure a little bit more because... honestly? My opinions on episode 2?... I might get some flack for my opinions on them... 😬

But, first: I’d like to appreciate how on the Funimation app we got a little interview/message from a few of the english dub VAs! Specifically Colleen Clinkenbeard, Jerry Jewell, Eric Vale, Ian Sinclair and Brina Palencia (Akito, Kyo, Yuki, Kureno and Isuzu). And it was nice seeing some of their opinions of the characters they play and how much they’re emotionally invested in the story. (Ian’s such a nerd ‘I wanna see giant mechs later this season’ 😂 - I lowkey stan him lol)

You should definitely check it out if you’re interested in what they would have to say!

ANYWAYS, let’s get into it...

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EPISODE 1

I really love this depiction of the original zodiac and how you can just tell from the tone of the scene how desperately the God of the Zodiac was clinging on to these connections that they had with the participants in the banquet. How much they clung on to and loved the cat... Also, interesting how Tohru’s narrating this scene... almost like she can relate to the desperation of wanting to keep things the same... but we’ll get to that later. But also, Tohru is a God

This new opening is beautiful, I love the way that camera moves around the still illustrations and how the general tone just hammers down that... this season is gonna be some real shit lol (which makes me nervous for the opening for the second half 😳). It’s so warped and the general blue, grey and black tone that follows around every Akito scene we get in the anime has bled into every scene in this opening concerning the rest of the zodiac. Almost... like something is decaying. It’s great, it’s just very sad lol. I love the song tho, issa bop.

One of my favourite things in stories is when we get a bigger villain than the ‘pronounced’ villain of the story. Ren’s introduction through a manicured outstretched hand towards Kureno and Hatori is so weirdly gross in what it insinuates (especially when you apply her connection with Shigure) but again... I wanna know why she’s such an asshole to Akito specifically besides the bad mental health management within the Sohma compound. I have an inkling of what it is through memory of the manga, but like Akito and Shigure... I just wanna understand why.

Also, Ren is gorgeous and I’m sorry for simping.

I mean... she’s kinda got a point? She just didn’t need to be so mean about it lol. It’s pretty clear that the connection the zodiac have to each other is real and something they cannot control. BUT, wouldn’t it be easier if this connection wasn’t perpetuated by outer circles of the family and if Akito herself wasn’t so cruel about it? But, I guess Akito - through her relationship with her mother - kinda doesn’t know how to genuinely show love and affection. (Which brings me into my thoughts of how the manga ends and how I kinda... have a few problems with it which I will get to... when that comes lol)

Lol - weeeeeeeee! (flashes back to Tohru being yeeted into the river). Is this a part of Akito’s god-like powers?!

Again. She’s got a point! They’ve both got a point. But, they’re both the source of the problem. It’s really painful to see two mentally ill people duke it out. This whole institution is just rotten.

- I am super curious about what Akira’s relationship was like with the zodiac and if it was just as dark. I’m gonna assume it slightly already was, as the exclusion and degradation of the cat curse is already dark in itself but maybe the rest of the zodiac were just fine with how things were? I dunno if we actually will get the full backstory of Akira and his zodiac but I’m definitely intrigued

Ok, but if four crying children came up to me after I’d just consummated with my partner to reach out at my stomach chanting ‘we’ve been waiting for you’. That would disturb me and scar me for a while too so... 😂. I know it’s supposed to be ethereal and spiritual but... dude, wtf lol

...I don’t like how much I’m into Ren being such a Villain™ 😅

- Akito being seen as a crying child by the older zodiac members has always been interesting to me because yes, they could see her as that through mainly the age gap, general empathy and the way she sometimes irrationally acts out. But, also the depiction of Gods being seen as children having tantrums has being reflected in many different beliefs and myths (especially Greek Mythology) and I just like the fact that this all powerful, all knowing being would be compared to a child. It gives you a different perspective on power.

- Is the paper note in the CD case that Kureno gave back to Tohru an extra addition or was it always there?...

Mannnn... I really wanted Isuzu to fuck shit up after seeing Tohru so upset but... *le sigh* (outfit’s still on point)

But, I’m so glad we get an equal Ethereal Goddess to save Tohru! HANAJIMA! We love her, we stan her. <3

- ‘Tohru will be in my custody’ 🤣 I personally think Hana’s bluntness was a kindness in her conversation with Yuki because if I found Tohru upset? I’d automatically start firing metaphorical shots at everyone in that house

- Shigure fearing Hana makes me sleep better at night <3

Hana’s just like ‘hmm... sounds like someone I know... 👀’ I’m here for this parallel between Tohru and Kureno in the hopes that Tohru doesn’t ever get in as bad a situation as Kureno. Ahhh... Kureno... (Also, Laura Bailey was killing it in this scene as always)

- Hmmm... there’s something terribly poetic about Kyo saving Tohru’s scarf from oncoming traffic... but also, Kyo can’t help himself aha

KWEEEN! I love this look for Uo, it’s very Kyoko. I already said this in Season 1 but I STILL need to get wool-lined jacket. Outfit Appreciation goes to her - 3.5 stars.

<3<3<3 Friendship is magic!

- Megumi is such a good egg as always! From him going to get Uo to him being so wise with his outlook on love and how it takes time to really flourish. The best!

- This whole episode ends really nicely from Tohru’s return home and Kyo washing and returning Tohru’s scarf and Yuki being happy to see Tohru and Shigure being somewhat decent. It was nice to get a bit of relief after the tornado of emotions

Also, this was a nice screencap! Even Kyo is smiling!!! :))))

EPISODE 2

*takes sip of wine* ...ok.

👀... later lol

This scene really highlighted how Tohru is starting to see Shigure and the whole zodiac curse in a new and darker way. For the first time, it felt like Tohru was a little bit more guarded around Shigure and I hope they delve more into this season. Her description of her feeling around the curse being like a ‘dark well with no bottom in sight’ is pretty spot on. Ugh.

Aw! Is this the last we’re getting of Small!Momiji?! I love them :3 (Momiji’s shorts look a little shorter too, like he’s growing out of them ahaha)

- I haven’t found the Yuki fan club funny since their first scene in the anime but their poor disguises made me chuckle

- Yayyy! Kyo has an obsessive fan club too? ...Yay?? 😅 haha

- ‘I won’t kill them but they can go to hell’ why is Kyo speaking like me?! 😂

The fact that we got a scene of Yuki kinda admirably looking at a group of friends (boys and girls) playfully physically interacting and he unconsciously reaches out to Machi almost like he forgot about the curse? Heart eyes... 🥰

Again. Relatable. 😂 God, Yuki. You really are an airhead. Bless your soul. <3

And that look says it all. Damn. Kyo’s sense of hopelessness is heartbreaking but I still stand by it being understandable considering his circumstances.

Kyo freaking out about Tohru being visually upset was super cute but I couldn’t even appreciate the fluff because the whole scene had such a morbid tone to it, despite it being so visually romantic:

KYO’S FACE!!! 💔 Ahhh, my emotions!!!! Also, that shot from Tohru’s perspective under her bangs is great.

- Poor Mitsuru, I’d ask for extra pay just for dealing with Shigure’s ass.

Hahah - what a great metaphor!

- Now that Shigure’s ‘true form’, so to speak, has been fully exposed all his comments that are supposed to be teasing come off so much more awful. Him insinuating Mitsuru wasn’t ‘upper class’ enough for Ritsu was awful

COLLLDDDD. AS. IIIIIIICE. But seriously, Shigure this whole episode was cold in many different ways but I definitely felt this personally since I’ve been told something like this by a family member before... 😕 Also, it’s just gross how both Shigure and Akito are taking their own personal issues and mistrust of each other out on to other people. The curse and the institution behind the curse complicates a lot of feelings for sure, but there’s a difference between wrong and right and I get the general feeling that they both are just using the muddy waters to their advantage. Although, I feel like Shigure is taking more advantage of this than Akito but I’ll get into that in a bit.

- There’s also something about this episode that made me sympathise a lot more with Kureno in a more understandable way. But, it also makes me question the ending of this whole story and the resolutions that happen and what life for the whole Sohma institution/family looks like after the curse has broken.. I guess, I should read ‘Fruits Basket Another’ after this, huh?

😳... Shigure is so petty, man. Really?!

So...

I hate this relationship. I’m sorry. I know there are loads of people who like this relationship. And I’m still giving myself space for the show and the story to convince me why it’s worth it. But... I really don’t like this relationship. It’s so toxic. In so many ways. And in a weird way, this scene made me feel a LITTLE bit more for Akito than Shigure. It feels like Shigure gaslights everyone in his life but none no more than Akito, herself. I hate the fact that he keeps saying he loves her while hurting her or disregarding her. You know, almost like he’s treating her like a child. But on the other hand, I hate the fact that Akito has lowkey gaslighted herself into thinking she can treat people however she wants because she is ‘God’. I understand this is part of the way she was brought up and it seems like life in the Sohma compound has been very isolating for her so there’s been no one really to show her better (or have the confidence to show her better). But, at least I can be a little bit more sympathetic on her side than Shigure’s. I dunno... it’s just all very ugly and toxic and I’m hoping that it’ll turn around somehow.

I just hope it’s not one of those relationships that are ‘so good cos it’s so bad’.

...I’ll briefly talk about the ending theme to end this on a good note lol:

I really like this ending! I dunno if they’re gonna have two endings and two openings for this season but this ending definitely feels like it should’ve gone in the second half as it’s almost spoiler-y? But, then again what anime opening and ending isn’t packed with spoilers lol

All the illustrations are gorgeous, I’m assuming they were drawn by Takaya-sensei herself as it seems very much in her current style of artistry but my favourite illustrations are definitely the ones shown above! <3

---------------------------------------------------------

Ahhh! Fin! Sorry, about this one being super long and you probably having to scroll past a whole lot on your dash 😝 As usual, I had a lot to say. I’m open to hearing from people who actually like Shigure and Akito’s relationship btw, it’s just that everything before and episode 2 just really didn’t sail the ship for me, personally. I do want to understand! Haha

See you soooon!

#fruits basket #furuba #fruits basket season 3 #fruits basket 2021

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Note

Weird q..but i really dont understand why most fans hate season 4, especially the last episode. Why? I think it gave us a deeper look on both sherlock and mycroft! I felt it tells a lot about mycroft how he had to step in and take control of things ever since he was a kid himself. Also he is not a robot or a killer. Also redbeard thing. It was an appropriate deep psychological trauma (cause most shows usually disappoint in that area). I am not trying to impose my opinion. Just want to understand

Hey Nonny!

It’s all good, and I totally respect your opinion and how you enjoyed S4! It’s totally okay! I know that there are quite a few who got a lot of of S4, and who genuinely enjoyed it.

Sadly, I am not one of those people, and I’ll try to be as diplomatic a possible in my response, but PLEASE know that I don’t think you’re “terrible” or “stupid” for liking S4 because I DO get passionate sometimes in my responses, and I’m just merely speaking as someone who studied the series very closely for quite a long time before S4 aired, and as someone who knows Day-One-ers (ie., people who watched Sherlock on its day one airdate) who also are a large majority of the people who did not like S4. This is just me simply stating why I didn’t like it, but it’s different for everyone.

Stating what I DO like: The acting and cinematography of the first two episodes were brilliant for what they had to work with, and I’ve never faulted any of the actors for the flaws of S4. And for TFP, they did the best with what they had to work with.

That’s… pretty much all I really liked about S4.

Now, here’s my problems with S4:

Nothing made a LICK of sense to the narrative that they were telling in Seasons prior.

This series was always based a bit in reality, and suddenly everything became comic-book rules: X-Men villains, shitty “redemption” arc, destroying favourite characters just for drama, ludicrous physics, explosions that only destroyed one small room in an apt where in previous episodes one explosion destroyed an entire block, etc.

Sherlock was OOC.

Mary was being built up to be a fantastic villain? Ah, nope, here’s the lacklustre twist where tee hee Mary’s just an assassin with a heart of gold that still emotionally abuses Sherlock and John and just won’t fucking stay dead.

And speaking of this, the DVD’s make NO LOGICAL SENSE unless she was planning to kill herself

AND she tries to make her death equatable to Sherlock’s??

Everyone was RIDICULOUSLY out of character in TFP, I’m so sorry: Mycroft is a bumbling coward for the most part, Sherlock disregards John when he gives the Vatican Cameos warning, the Holmes Parents are assholes because Mycroft COULDN’T SOLVE A PROBLEM WHEN HE WAS 12?? ARE YOU SERIOUS???? And that creepy Moriarty / Eurus thing, and LITERALLY they’re implying that EVERYTHING HAPPENED BECAUSE EURUS DIDN’T GET A HUG. Like, I’m so sorry, but that’s lazy writing.

And don’t even get me started on the ridiculousness of the entire character of Eurus. She LITERALLY had X-Men powers, and like… just nothing made sense. Her involvement in the entirety of S4 MADE NO SENSE. Why go back to prison if you can get out?? WHAT IS THE POINT?? AND I repeat: She did all this because she didn’t get a hug. Yes. I’m oversimplifying, but at the base level, that’s what it was, because she wanted Sherlock’s attention. Welcome to the club, kid, stand in line, everyone on the SHOW wants his attention.

The ENTIRE plot of the first 2 seasons got wiped out all because it wasn’t Moriarty who was interested in Sherlock, but Eurus?? What… What about Carl Powers?? Like…. the ENTIRETY of season one and TGG makes no sense now, because of that one 5 minute scene where Eurus “enlists” Moriarty. I… ugh.

The SUDDEN tonal switch from kind-of Sherlock to James Bond, for some fucking reason.

And on that note, how terribly lazy and cheap TFP looks in comparison to the other two episodes. The whole episode looks like it was filmed in a small house with 4 identical rooms.

EVERYTHING that was etablished in 2 episodes prior were COMPLETELY forgotten when Mary was “shot”.

The complete character assassination of one loyal blogger John H Watson in favour of Mary for some fucked up reason, even though AT HIS OWN WEDDING HE COULDN’T STAND BEING AROUND MARY. I’m sorry, but I don’t believe for one damned second that John would EVER forgive Mary for murdering his best friend after seeing what it did to him. That’s not love from her, and that’s NOT John’s character EVER in the ENTIRETY of the series.

And speaking of character assassinations, Molly’s character being devolved to S1E1 Molly, where instead of giving her agency like they were doing with her the ENTIRE series, so much so that Sherlock picked up on her dominance enough to give her a big role in his mind palace in HLV and TAB, only to make her a sad little self-insert Mary Sue pining for the main character, and in turn made Sherlock a TERRIBLE human being for MAKING HER say what she did. It’s gross.

AND speaking of Molly’s character, they’ve been setting up Mollstrade since as early as ASiB, but I guess that plot line got shafted. Look I LOVE Hopkins, and I am ANGRY they didn’t give her more than 3 fucking lines in the entirety of ONE episode after HEAVILY promoting her actress and character, but they essentially reduced her to a piece of ass for Lestrade to chase. AND THAT’S NOT HIS CHARACTER EITHER. EW GROSS.

The constant plot holes being gaped wide open, and the Chekov’s gun moments where they bring up shit but do nothing with it!!

TD-12? Nope, just a lame reference to a story we like.

John got shot at the end of TLD with a VERY REAL FUCKING GUN? Nope, it was a dart gun.

John not suddenly knowing how to be a doctor.

The TGG one I mentioned up above.

What was in the letter? And who was Anyone??

Moriarty essentially being erased as anything other than a hired thug and had no part whatsoever in Sherlock’s history.

Eurus… Just all of her character is asinine.

Everyone in T6T suddenly not knowing John’s the blogger, which is in direct contradiction to literally the entire series.

The AGRA plotline was ridiculous, in the end.

Baby? What baby? It was only there when convenient.

They dropped whatever plotline they were going to do for Mycroft: He was being set up as either dying, or the villain.

Redbeard. I’m sorry, I disagree with you on that. Mofftiss is trying to tell me that a little boy fell down a well and went missing, and that WASN’T the first place searchers / the police wouldn’t have looked? Sorry, no. And then. AND THEN his parents just… go along with this thing where Sherlock shuts down and they DON’T get him therapy? Yes, I agree the mind is a funny thing, and we can be traumatised into forgetting or dissociating from traumatic events. I GET IT. But… like I don’t believe the Holmes are so heartless as to just never grieve or have memories around about their supposedly dead daughter. It’s another OCC thing for me.

John’s cheating.

Disappearing and reappearing characters, like this scene, and the entirety of the aquarium scene.

Mary and John being terrible parents

OH GOD THIS FUCKING SCENE. That bomb SHOULD HAVE DESTROYED THE ENTIRE BUILDING.

What… who was this girl on the plane? What? Like I know WHO, but if she’s supposed to be Eurus talking to Sherlock, why don’t we see Eurus… talking to Sherlock? I … Ugh.

NORBURY.

The glass SUPER SECRET GOVERNMENT ROOM THAT NO ONE SHOULD SEE INTO in T6T.

Sloppy camera work that some believe was intentional, but if it wasn’t, jesus c’mon.

The RIDICULOUS amount of 4th Wall Breaking. Like… even the actors didn’t give a shit.

Essentially, everything on this list here and in this blog tag here.

And everything mentioned on these three posts:

T6T: 10 Revealing Things That Haunt You Late at Night

TLD: 10 Revealing Things That Haunt You Late at Night

TFP: 10 Revealing Things That Haunt You Late at Night

There’s SO much more I can go into, but please go through my “something’s fucky” tag in that last link.

Notice how probably 90% of that has NOTHING to do with “johnlock not becoming canon” because the Johnlockers get MONSTROUS accusations as to THAT being why we didn’t like S4, even though it was, like critically panned by the GENERAL AUDIENCE who have NO investment in the series other than “I liked it in the past”.

Two of my fave YouTubers have interesting (not perfect, but still good) takes coming at the series as casual viewers:

‘The Day Sherlock Died’ by The Closer Look

‘Sherlock is Garbage, and Here’s Why’ by hbomberguy

So it’s NOT just Johnlockers. I’ve talked to Sher1011ies at 221B con who didn’t like S4 either, because most of them realized how shitty Molly was treated in the last episode. So yeah, a big middle finger to those who think I dislike S4 because of “no Johnlock”. No, I disliked it because I need my stories to make logical narrative sense. I disliked it because I love John and they ruined his character all for the sake of drama and because Moffat has a “hurting Ben” kink. I disliked it because Mary should NOT have been “redeemed” because she was an abuser. I disliked it because Moriarty was turned into a cartoon villain, even though he was already overused in the series. I disliked it because the core of the show – the FRIENDSHIP of Sherlock and John, and their solving mysteries together – did not exist at all. I disliked it because John got sidelined. I disliked it because TFP was a ridiculous episode that, if you replace ANY of the characters, it wouldn’t make a difference, because it didn’t feel like an episode of Sherlock. I disliked it because everyone was OOC.

Anyway. Sorry. One too many accusations my way over the past 1100+ days LOL.

As for your assessment of TFP, I’m going to have to respectfully disagree with you. There was no growth and actually it implies something far more sinister: That the Holmes are and were terrible parents that gave no shits about their daughter, their traumatized son, and expected their eldest to essentially be a parent. It implies that Mycroft, at 12 years old, orchestrated the ENTIRE Sherrinford thing… Look I can suspend my disbelief, but there’s limits, and this is one of them. A LITERAL CHILD. Perhaps Uncle Rudy had a hand in it somehow, but then why not shit on Uncle Rudy? Why is Mycroft blamed for it all?

Look, I don’t doubt Sherlock had a traumatic experience regarding “Redbeard”. But then why play into the fact that he was a dog? Why bring another character into the series just to have a gotcha moment? Because Mofftiss wanted a “Shyamalan twist”, that’s why. They threw EVERYTHING away for a twist ending either because they GENUINELY thought it was good, or they got tired of doing Sherlock. ALL of TFP is LITERALLY a really bad plot twist because reasons. TFP makes no sense to the ENTIRE narrative structure of the previous 12 episodes. It erased EVERYTHING from the previous episodes, and coated it with a gross closing by a character no one wanted in the series, and then tried to convince us that it’s a new beginning – “a journey they had to go through” – but it SOLVED NOTHING.

Anyway. I have big feels about S4, and the only way I can enjoy it is to watch it subtextually, but even then, I cannot sit through TFP without cringing.

That said, Lovelies, please do not attack Nonny for enjoying S4! I know you guys won’t, but Nonny came out with an olive branch and they just want to understand why the fandom is passionate about S4′s… whatever it was. We can have a civil discussion about it, and point out – without attacking – why S4 is universally panned. It’s okay to like things no one else does, and Nonny was respectful to me in this ask!

So with that, feel free, lovelies, to express why YOU didn’t enjoy the series, or why you did! I’m interested in both “sides” / pov’s whatever :)

#steph replies #long post #sherlock s4 #s4 shitposting #mofftiss #something's fucky #the mary problem #my thoughts #my meta #shitposting steph #sorry gang if you like the season #it's easier for me to enjoy it if i tinhat

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normal-thoughts-official · 3 years

Note

Thots on a figure skating au??? 🅱️lease

hmmmmmmm ok so disclaimer that i know nothing about figure skating so i'm just making up whatever

you got me in a difficult position here cuz on the one hand, i'd love for magnus to be a trainer/coreographer. i think it suits him wonderfully and that while obviously he is great at dancing and loves it, i think that he's more on the creative side of things, you know? so i could imagine something like figure skater alec and trainer magnus. and like alec is a shadowhunter so of course that demands a high level of control over your body that is similar to a figure skater's

but at the same time its funny to me to try to imagine alec figure skating when hes a fucking giant like that because like hes so big?? and when ur big like that ur kind of like... mandatorily graceless and clumsy to a degree methinks (not in a like oh hes always tripping and blushing way, more like the "you're on my leg, you asshole" blooper), because things aren't made for you. like really its an actual matter of accessibility sometimes, especially if you actually have the proportions of a real person like alec does (well, except for the yaoi mcfuckhands. they look big even compared to the rest of his ridiculous body he just b standing there and im like christ edward fingerhands we get it) cuz then Everything Is Bigger Than It Should ya feel

so yeah i can't really imagine alec in like, spandex being all graceful and shit, but at the same time rationally i could imagine that for his character, but also no. so i can't really go with that idea without laughing

but also i can't imagine him as a trainer/coreographer and i don't know who the fuck else is involved with figure skating anyway so is alec like, the janitor or some shit???? some fucking basketball player who sees him at the olympics??? lord help me i have no idea

OK SO IT'S BEEN LIKE 5 MONTHS SINCE I FIRST PUT THE FIRST PART OF THIS ANSWER IN MY DRAFTS (rip anon im so sorry) and i THINK i got it!!! alec could be like, the uhh personal trainer? physical trainer? YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN like the one dedicated to making sure the figure skater's body is. capable of. dancing. idk how to explain it but you do get it don't you??? ok

i'm mostly going off my dancing experience here (i had dance classes for like, 10 years of my life, and ugh i miss it) and like besides dancing you always have to train like lifting and doing localized training and stuff because you can't really dance if you don't have strength and flexibility and stamina and all that stuff. the only time i would willingly work out was for dancing lmao especially when i was in my hiphop crew. anyway

and while for me the one responsible for that part of training was the same person as my teacher/coreographer (or when i was doing hiphop it was just. on me to do that lmao but i'm not complaining) i figure when you're a professional and not just a dumb kid that's probably two different people, right? if not it is now. idc

i could go with figure skater magnus and trainer alec but also im really feeling the dynamics of coreographer magnus and trainer alec? like it'd be cute/funny to see them trying to work together for that ya know. so sorry that this feels less like a figure skating au especially since it took me so long to answer it but aaa

but also i mean as a coreographer magnus would have to know how to do it obviously so you would most definitely get a figure skating magnus. alec going to close up the gym and seeing magnus practicing by himself just for fun, anyone? and magnus looks gorgeous as ever way more gorgeous than whoever they're coaching but that's just alec's opinion and magnus kind of stops like "oh, i didn't know you were here" and alec's like "oh oops. anyway keep going you're great at this" and magnus feels a little self conscious but soon he gets lost in it again because really he loves doing this and alec is just appreciating the artwork :)

ANYWAY the dynamics of trainer and coreographer are fun. magnus showing up to alec like "hey alec so i need some heavy lifting on them arms cuz meliorn [idk i don't have any better ideas for who they could be coaching] is gonna carry an elephant onstage" and alec is like "uhh" and meliorn is like "a fake elephant" and alec is like "i mean good but i still have questions"

and magnus is like "obviously we would never use trained elephants, the way they are treated is inhumane" and alec is like "you're completely right but also that's your only worry when it comes to meliorn carrying a real elephant?" and magnus is like "i'm sure you could pull it off ;) you're the best after all" and alec gives him that amused smile

advantages of meliorn: they don't care about the flirting anyway since they are literally Like That too

also magnus and alec working out together off the clock, some ogling on both sides and just generally funny competitive shenanigans. especially cuz like magnus is hella fit but alec works in that stupid gym so he knows what he's about. and alec's all smug about it like "i can lift more than you :)" and magnus is like "oh yeah? let's see how you do in the ring" "no" "yes" "no" "why, can you not do it?" "yes. i know my limits" "well that's too bad... because you're going in anyway"

cue alec falling on his face probably but also like goddamn it he's competitive and he's not gonna let magnus have too much of a win so he tries his best rip. anyway then we probably get some hip touching bullshit when magnus tries to explain it to him and magnus is flirting the whole time and alec's laughing and it's sweet

i have half a mind to make up some angsty backstory about how magnus used to be a figure skater too and his partner was (you'll never guess it) camille and then she pulled the rug from under him and he kinda left the competitions altogether for a while. and then he came back as a coreographer (listen, he loves to dance, but creating is one of his favorite parts and he was always involved in coreographing anyway. his old coreographer and him were always having a blast and camille did not like it) and this is kinda his debut as a coreographer at some big shot competition idk and he just feels like he has so much to prove?

lol bonus camille's new coreographer is lorenzo so the hating magnus squad is in thick against him and it's a whole thing you know

OH MEGA ANGSTY camille got him out of the competition because she outed him as trans and he was declassified because something something transphobic bullcrap so he wasn't allowed anymore. i assume this was like right after they won because of course she wouldn't compromise herself, or maybe it was at the beginning/pre-stages of the championship so she had time to find a new partner. yeah that last one and then she won with the coreography that he had helped them create. im saying she did that because he broke up with her finally after years of abuse both in work and out of it so she did that as revenge or to make sure he couldn't have his passion anymore. and it took magnus years to build himself back up as a coreographer this time because transphobia (and racism) in the market but guess what? he is extremely smart and talented and creative so now he is back at the championship and he wants to show the world what they have been missing on

hmmmmm also i implied this is in pairs since magnus and camille used to be one so i think meliorn's pair would probably be izzy and maybe that's why alec's involved? like he was already a personal trainer or whatever which his parents were fine with even though it's not of course as grand as they would've liked (meaning they were total asses about it) but when izzy decided to go into sports/art they lost their shit and didn't want to support her so, you know, alec did and became her trainer. which is just as well because he is the best so like, deal with it. not saying they like kicked her out or anything (esp cuz i imagine part of alec's reasoning is that izzy stood by him when he came out and if they didn't kick him out over being gay they wouldn't kick her out over being a skater but y'know) but they definitely wouldn't support her so they both also feel like they have a lot to prove

lol me: i have half a mind to make this angsty. also me: paragraphs and paragraphs of angsty backstory

anyway they win obviously idk what to tell you they just do cuz we stan talent. camille is second for maximum drama and vengeance, the lightwoods try to get the spotlight once izzy wins and she and alec tell them to fuck off, they advocate for specific rules prohibiting ppl to declassify trans ppl over being trans and that's all i have tbh

sorry it took so long to answer daiudsauihda but i hope that outline is at least interesting for you!

#sh #shadowhunters #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #izzy lightwood #meliorn #lightwood siblings #ask #anonymous #long post #figure skating au #camille belcourt is an abuser

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mememanufactorum · 4 years

Text

Ace Combat 7 quotes

* Feel free to share as you please, no credit needed. Change pronouns or anything else as desired.

“Does the color of the sky mean anything special to you?”

“When I close my eyes, the sky in my dreams… is a deep, dark blue.”

“I don’t see anything good comin’ from that.”

“They taught me their skills and some dirty jokes.”

“Laugh at it all you want, kid. But technology’s always changing. If you don’t keep up with it, it’ll leave your ass behind.”

“Time to stop the bullshit.”

“Let’s go introduce ourselves.”

“This is the kinda shit that really chaps my ass!”

“Hesitating for a split second could be the difference between life and death. Stay sharp, think fast.”

“Don’t try to be a hero. I want you to make it back in one piece, y’hear?”

“No point arguing. That’s how war is these days.”

“Just worry about staying alive for now.”

“I’m buying dinner for anyone who takes down an enemy.”

“You shoot, someone gets killed. The guys in charge take care of the rest.”

“[name], time to show the other guys that we get wet, wild, and do dirty, dirty things.”

“They have to be crazy to pick a fight with us! Even a rabid dog would know better!”

“…I said what I had to say.”

“Not a girl who’d retreat. Just not in her DNA.”

“No, I should’ve never let a fledgling like her out of my reach to begin with.”

“This place is a shithole.”

“They just killed a hero!”

“…It must’ve been a mistake.”

“Of all the ways to get killed, that’s gotta be the most pathetic one ever, am I right?”

“Maybe I should give that guy a thank-you note for killing him…”

“Wooohooo! My blood’s boiling!”

“Always in the know, aren’t you?”

“Settle down. Excited to have another murderer with you?”

“If any of you die, just think of it as you atoning for your crimes.”

“I decide when you die.”

“Who’s gonna dance to your lying tune?”

“I’ll show you all how it’s done.”

“I got all dressed up for nothing.”

“Anyone up for some poker tonight?”

“Don’t let it go to your head, murderer.”

“I lost a lot of money for that, [name]. Don’t forget.”

“Yet, what is a nation? Can we actually see the physical lines that divide one from another?”

“Don’t pretend like you deserve any better!”

“You really are too good at murdering people, [name].”

“Stick with the best if you want to survive.”

“If anyone wants to die, let ‘em.”

“Keep yapping away, little guard dog!”

“You’ll pay for that.”

“Where’s your sense of humor, guys? Your buddy’s making a joke. Laugh already!”

“Wait. Who’s the dumbass that came up with this batshit plan?”

“Things don’t always go perfectly.”

“As they say in my house, there’s a thin line between bravery and stupidity.”

“Nice work for a dumbass.”

“You’re in no position to call someone a devil, [name]. Don’t make me laugh.”

“I ain’t afraid of it!”

“I want to understand the enemy.”

“My status? Well, I’m feeling a little excited.”

“[name], kindness gets you killed.”

“Only an idiot would be brave enough to pull off those moves.”

“[name] went down crying like a baby. I knew he was all bark and no bite. The coward.”

“Man, I’m not in the mood for this shit today. I’m gonna blow some stuff up to let off steam.”

“No time to smell the roses, then.”

“Enough with the holier-than-thou attitude.”

“Shut the hell up. This has nothing to do with me.”

“You sound like you know something.”

“If you think that’s all you need to survive, you might as well get your last rites now.”

“You did that on purpose, [name].”

“…It was an accident. It got out of control.”

“Adios, you damn fool.”

“It was an accident, so shut up.”

“[name], it’s a breath of fresh air having you out here.”

“Save your sermons for someone who cares, preacher.”

“You wouldn’t understand, [name]. Not until you take a good look in the mirror.”

“Sorry, but I’m gonna eat while I work. My judgment goes fuzzy when I’m too hungry.”

“How can you talk about food?”

“That girl swears more than me.”

“It’s not just the swearing either. She’s got quick fists too.”

“That ain’t funny.”

“I think tonight’s the night we finally open that bottle.”

“I could really perform if only I had some partners I could trust.”

“No need to worry, I got your back. Relax and do your thing.”

“I’m buying you a beer later!”

“You never learn, do you?”

“What are you scheming?”

“Ugh… [name], do not fubar this!”

“Knock that off. Push yourself too hard, and you’re dead.”

“Is it really over now?”

“Are we gonna eat the whole thing?”

“Yeah. We got our hands dirty for nothing.”

“But home means something different to each and every one of us.”

“That went about as expected.”

“Never was good at jokes.”

“Be quick. Gotta deliver on time, or the pizza’s free.”

“Your jokes haven’t gotten any better.”

“We’ve even brought pizza.”

“To tell you the truth… I’m not sure I wanted to know the answers anymore.”

“Cute. No, that’s real funny.”

“Y’know, I think we might stand a chance out here.”

“Man, don’t jinx us.”

“This should prove to be fun.”

“If we keep this up, someone’s not going home.”

“You’re quite the entertainer, but the show’s over with this next shot.”

“Stay strong. We’re not done here.”

“Shit! This guy’s too tough.”

“You can do it! In fact, you’re the only one who can!”

“As far as the chaos we find ourselves in these days, it’s difficult to say which side pulled the trigger first.”

“All that remained was chaos and confusion.”

“Oh, and uh, hand me that sandwich.”

“Please, watch over the future we build from the high heavens.”

“Who do we turn to in this darkest hour? We need a beacon of light to show us the way…”

“Right. I’m shooting them down. Any complaints?”

“Hey, not our fault they won’t listen to reason.”

“Whoever did is the king of all dumbasses.”

“Today… I lost everything.”

“After all those speeches I gave about working together for peace… I thought everyone felt the same as I did.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Just what did you see here?”

“Well now we know what’s going on, but… Shit.”

“Right. We leave the wounded… This’ll guarantee us a one-way ticket to hell.”

“I’ve heard that line before.”

“Damn it! In this crazy mess, I’ve got plenty to pay attention to other than your dirty ass!”

“I need you to help some people.”

“And who’s taking this to the enemy’s doorstep? Not me.”

“Wait, you moron!”

“What are you doing, dumbass?!”

“A few more crazies like her and life down there may have been a tad bit easier.”

“You never told me that!”

“That’s just a stereotype.”

“All I did was state my honest opinion and I was thrown in jail for it.”

“That’s not the way I heard it.”

“You take, if you want to live. That was how it was where I grew up.”

“I feel like we’re a group of burglars.”

“Don’t say that. This is for our survival.”

“A miss, as expected. But a lucky shot would be boring.”

“Don’t waste your life. Dedicate it to reclaiming that which you call home.”

“Furthermore, you must find someone to guide you.”

“I am not that person.”

“Don’t die. As long as we’re alive, our hopes and dreams live on.”

“Why do you feel the need to continue fighting on your own?”

“Let me test him, then, to see if he’s truly worthy.”

“If they are not enough, then I must put my soul into it.”

“There are people like you in every generation. And I’ve felled every last one of them.”

“This was all due to my ego.”

“I unleashed pure chaos upon this world just so I could keep my wings.”

“We have to learn to put that sense of nostalgia behind us and behave like mature adults.”

“This isn’t a rebellion. This is a battle for independence.”

“The time has come to show the enemy the true meaning of patriotism!”

“I, for one, did not see that coming.”

“Ha! Just what kind of magic did you work there, you asshole?”

“It wasn’t magic. It was a scam.”

“Besides, if you thought it was impossible you wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Even in death, that thing is intimidating.”

“I don’t care what country anyone’s from. What counts is knowing who the real enemy is. Right guys?”

“I think everybody here knows the score. We all know who to follow.”

“That was definitely the most intense thing I’ve ever been in.”

“I’ve got a special bottle of wine for occasions like this. What do you say we open it?”

“Hey, [name], you dumbass. Tell me something. What color’s the sky up there?”

“I never wanted to create anything and now here I am, clinging to life.”

“Is this my punishment, then?”

“Y’know what having peace in the world means? It’s being able to die in your own bed, at a ripe, old age.”

“Dark blue… To the heavens and beyond.”

“Can you hear me?”

#Ace Combat 7 #Ace Combat #roleplay meme #roleplay prompt #rp meme #rp prompt

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chelsfic · 4 years

Note

Oh goodness, congrats on 900!! prompt wise Forget it, you’re a fucking asshole with good old Kandomere? If you feel so inclined.

Thank you so much for requesting Kandomere! God, I love this elf. This one was so fun to write. I kind of want to make it into a longer fic...

Being assigned as Agent Kandomere’s partner is an honor and a privilege of which you’re well aware. As a junior agent, not to mention a human, it’s impossible to forget the difference in your status--both professional and social. And Kandomere isn’t exactly one to let you forget.

Still, you like to think you’ve proven yourself to the haughty, exacting elf over your months working together. If nothing else, he hasn’t demanded your reassignment yet. That’s something. Especially considering the string of partners he burned through before you came along. It gives you a secret thrill to think that he’s pleased with you...maybe even impressed. You feel you have a lot to prove, as a new agent, as a human and...well, there’s the matter of your budding crush on the impossibly attractive elf.

Ugh. Just thinking of it makes you burn with humiliation. The thought of being lumped in with the elf-chasers...humans without dignity who grovel at elves’ feet just for a chance to sleep with them... That is not you.

But, your stupid crush won’t be an issue much longer because no matter how much you respect this man, no matter how competent he is, no matter how physically alluring--he is still an asshole.

---

“I can’t believe you let me walk into that situation blind!” you fume, sliding into the cool leather passenger seat of Kandomere’s car. You hate his stupid luxury vehicle and his stupid thousand dollar suits and his stupid handsome face. You’re positively shaking with rage and lingering fear after the shit show that he just subjected you to.

Kandomere, to his credit, looks rattled. His silver-flecked eyes widen as he watches you come apart.

“Y/N, I didn’t realize how far things would go. If I had--”

“Oh, of course not!” you snarl, and you're mortified to feel tears pricking your eyes. “You think the whole world is just as cold and calculating as you--”

Kandomere interjects with an edge of anger in his voice, “I’m not--”

“I think I deserve to speak now, don’t you think?” you growl. “How do you think it made me feel to have all of those elves looking down on me? To be forced to kneel at their feet like some kind of--some kind of--”

You can’t complete the sentence. Your pride and dignity are mortally wounded. You thought you were partners. You thought Kandomere respected you. You even thought...in your secret self...that maybe he was starting to think of you as more than a colleague. Stupid!

---

All Kandomere tells you about the undercover assignment is that you’ll be going to a nightclub in Elf Town. You’ve been following a lead on a ring of drug dealers peddling Fairy Dust, a new concoction that causes hallucinations and dangerous magical anomalies. For elves and orcs it’s a mind altering party drug. For humans it can be dangerously addictive and even lethal.

You don’t question when Kandomere asks you to wear something flashy and revealing--it seems appropriate to the setting. When he undoes the silver gorget from around his neck and places it on yours you just go with it. Some kind of elven fashion statement.

“Just follow my lead,” he says to you as he pulls up to the valet. “You don’t even need to talk. You’re here for...verisimilitude.”

Whatever the fuck that means… This is fine. It’s all fine because you trust your partner.

It isn’t until you get inside that you realize how far he’s betrayed you. The club is dimly lit, small cocktail tables are arranged around a dance floor. Everywhere there are elves sitting, dancing, socializing. And at their feet, kneeling like subservient slaves, sit humans. Your eyes flash to Kandomere’s, broadcasting your discomfort. He shakes his head infinitesimally at you and leads you into the throng with a hand on your arm.

The night is pure torture for you. Does Kandomere not realize how mortifying it is to be seen as his sex slave? The fact that you’ve nursed foolish feelings for him only makes it worse. This is what humans are in his world. Subservient, unimportant, relegated to groveling at their masters’ feet.

Kandomere tracks down the dealer, insinuating both of you into his circle near the back of the club. When he takes his seat, Kandomere catches your eye and glances pointedly at the floor beside the chair. You clench your jaw in suppressed anger and humiliation but force yourself to bend your knees and settle on the floor next to him. You try to keep track of what is being discussed over your head but at a certain point it becomes easier to bear the degradation by simply letting your thoughts drift. At one point Kandomere’s hand reaches down to your shoulder and gently squeezes. You hate yourself for leaning into his touch and savoring the comfort.

“Care to test the product?” the dealer asks and you feel Kandomere’s leg stiffen. When did you start leaning into it?

“No, I never partake myself,” Kandomere answers breezily.

Laughter. “Don’t get high on your own supply. Smart. Why don’t you let your little pet try? You have to see what it does to them. They absolutely melt.”

Suddenly the dealer is bending down to look you in the eyes, he’s brandishing a small tray holding a pile of glittery powder. Kandomere grabs your shoulder and pushes you back.

“I don’t--She hasn’t--” you’ve never heard him at a loss for words before.

The dealer’s eyes harden and his voice holds suspicion, “What are you playing at?”

You’re looking up at both of them, your eyes flicking back and forth. Fuck, you’re about to get made.

Kandomere’s face suddenly smooths into the marble mask you’ve seen so many times. He’s cool and collected once more. He looks down at you and his tone is offhanded but the words are a command, “Go ahead. Try it.”

You’re about to refuse and blow this whole operation when you feel the dealer’s hand grab you by the back of the neck. He pulls you closer to him and dips the fingers of his free hand into the glittery powder.

“Come here little pet. You’ll love this,” he says. He shoves his long fingers into your mouth, massaging the powder into your gums before releasing you with a shove that sends you toppling into Kandomere’s legs. “Take her in the back. They go feral on this stuff. She’ll be jumping your bones in a second.”

You feel like you’re underwater. The sights and sounds of the club feel distant to you. Kandomere is grabbing you by the arms, lifting you up and away from the table with the bad people. Kandomere is touching you. You can feel his bright, silver-blue elf beauty bleeding out of his skin and wrapping you up in a blanket.

“Kandomere…” you breathe, leaning your body against his and whispering into the shell of his perfect, pointed ear, “You’re very pretty. If you kiss me I’ll turn into a princess for you…”

“Shhh. You’re going to be alright, Y/N,” your partner shushes you, holding you tighter against his chest as he maneuvers you through the throng of hostile elven eyes. His voice still sounds far away but you can tell it’s shaking a little, like he’s scared. How funny…

---

“I could have died, Kandomere,” you whisper, turning your head to stare out the window at the city lights flashing past. You don’t want him to see your tears. He’d taken you into the club’s bathroom, frantically flushing your mouth out with water. All the while you were trying to wrap yourself around him. You kept calling him pretty. Fuck, you’re never going to live that down.

“I’m so sorry about that, Y/N. I never thought they’d force that on us. But--but you’re fine now and now we have these monsters. Thanks to you…” the words sound hollow and placating.

You turn to stare at him with glassy, accusing eyes, “I just think I deserved to be told up front what I was walking into. I could have prepared…”

Kandomere is shaking his head and he’s actually smiling slightly, “You never would have agreed to it if I told you the kind of club it was.”

Rage takes over again and you punch your clenched fist into the center console, startling the unflappable elf.

“You’re damn right, Kandomere! Do you even realize how humiliating it was to have all of those people think that I’m some pathetic, human sex slave?...And to have you treat me that way…” you trail off, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. Kandomere’s elegant hands flex on the steering wheel, the muscle in his jaw ticks, but he keeps his silence. Finally you turn away with an angry growl, “Forget it. You’re a fucking asshole.”

When he pulls up outside your apartment your hand is already on the door handle, getting ready to make a hasty exit without another word. You’re too afraid you’ll lose control and either break down in sobs or haul off and punch his smug face.

Before you can flee Kandomere stops you with a gentle hand on your arm, “Wait, please.”

Kandomere is never anything but perfectly controlled. But now his words sound like a plea from his soul. You turn to him with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was wrong. I should have been up front with you about what tonight was. I just...I wanted to get these guys so bad. But I put you in danger and that’s--that’s unforgivable,” his voice is rough, broken. He won’t even meet your eyes. His hand still lingers on your arm and his fingers are stroking absentmindedly into your flesh. It’s probably the remaining drug still in your system, but his touch sends electric pulses through your nervous system.

You swallow your tears and pull the gorget from your neck, fingering the gleaming metal.

“It’s just...I know what you think about humans,” you murmur, eyes downcast. You trace your finger over the elven script on the gorget. “Elves above all...Above all elves? I just thought...I thought it was different with you and me.”

Kandomere lets out a choked sound from the back of his throat and his grip on your arm tightens. When you look up you’re astounded to see tears glistening in his hypnotic eyes.

“It is different with you, Y/N. You’re...you’re special to me,” his words are halting, but you can feel the truth of them through his touch. “When he forced that shit in your mouth? When I thought you might--might die, I--”

Suddenly he’s leaning forward across the console, faster than you can track with your mortal vision. His face is inches away, his lips hovering so close to yours. He stares into your eyes intensely, you’re falling into the silvery pool of his irises. Can this be real? You knew he tolerated you. You hoped that he respected you. Can he really feel...more?

“I don’t deserve to kiss you, Y/N,” he whispers, his breath ghosting across your lips. “But I’m going to.”

His kiss is like magic. His lips slide against yours in perfect harmony, like he can read your body’s intentions and match them. He’s soft and hard, fierce and gentle, hot and cool at all once. He cups your face in his hands and you feel a thrill that this immortal being who can kill a man with his bare hands is using them to stroke your cheeks so gently. He pulls away too soon and you try to trail after him with your lips.

His pupils are dilated and his breath is quick, matching your own. He looks down at you and his face is softer than you’ve ever seen it. His perfect brows knit together and his voice pitched low as he asks, “Am I forgiven, then?”

Has he known all this time? That you were hopelessly falling in love with him? The thought should be mortifying but your body is still ringing with the force of his kiss. Kandomere knows what he’s doing. How can he question that you’d stay angry after a kiss like that? He’s still an asshole. But…

“Yes,” you whisper, grabbing his tie and tugging him back toward your lips. “Forgiven.”

#kandomere #kandomere x reader #bright netflix #edgar ramirez

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smartguyreviewed · 4 years

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2x6 - Trial and Error

Original air date: Oct 15, 1997

Okay, so we begin this infuriating episode with Floyd coming home and calling out for his biological children. None of them are home. Except for Mo. Mo broke into the house. No, seriously. He broke into the house and started eating somebody’s leftovers. Now in any other case, this would warrant a passionate ass whooping and a call to the parents of this child because what the fuck are you doing so wrong to have your son breaking into houses and not stealing anything except for food? However, this is sitcom world and Floyd just seems more annoyed than anything since Mo is always there anyway.

Mo tells Floyd he needs to be more careful about locking the windows. So linebacker ass Mo really needed to eat and somehow oozed through a window just to get food? Ok, I take back what I said about him needing his ass kicked. Mo is clearly malnourished even though he’s huge. His parents must be poor and therefore can’t afford to feed him. Holy shit was that dark. Moving on.

Food and TJ’s brain are the reasons for his crime. His parents are going to kill him if he brings home another D. This is really helping me build a theory that Mo’s parents are abusive, so let’s assume his parents are literal this time about the kill thing. Floyd then realizes that Mo’s punishment would equal him not being over again to eat up their food and casually break in so he tells Mo that TJ joined the Marines. Nice, Floyd.

Just then, the rest of Floyd’s flock comes in babbling about who got what part in a play. TJ is naturally upset because he wanted a bigger role, still not getting used to the idea that he’s a 10 year old and unless he’s playing the role of a character with dwarfism, it wouldn’t make sense for him to have a huge part. TJ storms off in a huff. Typical TJ things.

The next day, everyone is atwitter over a test from their more over it than Lisa Simpson teacher. This man wants all of his students to fail. He hates his students. He’s a teacher and yet he hates teaching. Maybe this is the wrong profession for you, bruh? And it’s evident his ‘over it’ level is on a million from the way he comes in and tells his class to “get ready to hate me.” The deadpan, dry delivery was funny though.

His first task is to give his students an assignment so hard that even he doesn’t know all the answers. Um, why? If you don’t know the answers, how are you gonna grade the tests? Isn’t this just creating more work for you, someone who already hates his job? Why the fuck does Piedmont hire such bad teachers and faculty, dammit?

Even TJ is intimidated by this test! Mo asks Mr. Bringleman why stuff from another chapter he previously said wouldn’t be on the test is on the test. He simply says he lied. This man is evil. I hated teachers who did that bitch ass shit. Yes, I only studied for what you said was going to be on the test because I have other classes too, ya know. I’m a teenager, not a machine!

I’m just gonna call him Mr. B for the rest of this review because fuck this most likely racist white man. His ass was listening to the boys talking about how hard the test was and then Mo says he wishes he could do to Mr. B what he does to all of them. Mr. B asks if he’s threatening him and Mo stammers. Then Mr. B insults his intelligence by asking if he ever has a complete thought. Before he can even fix his mouth to call him the N word, not Linda Ellerbee shows up to see what’s going on. Oh yeah, and she’s the new principal. She’s the third one so far and this is only the first half of the second season.

Anyways, she needs someone to cover a class and outright forces him to do it. Ha-ha. When the boys laugh at him, Mr. B says he’s going to grade Mo’s test. Nice, I just love seeing teachers bully students.

At the play rehearsal, TJ is still campaigning for a lead role. Mackey has to be the one to humble him, asking for duct tape. Marcus’s play related arc in this episode is pursuing acting seriously in case music doesn’t work out. His part has no lines so he’s trying to act with his face. He can just feel the SAG membership card in his hands.

Just then, Yvette bursts in wearing a Prince-inspired outfit and lets everyone know there was a fire in the chem lab. Dun du--pause. Why the fuck is she telling everyone? Wouldn’t they have had a fire drill? Are there no fire alarms in this blasted school? How the fuck did nobody know about it or smell smoke and why is Yvette bursting in like the town crier in this Purple Rain ass outfit???

All the students are happy until Linda Ellerbee hands Mo his charred playbook and asks him to come into her office. Dun dun dun. Later we find out that Mo was expelled. Because he is an abused child who only feels safe at the Hendersons, Mo has once again broke into their house and begun working out in their garage. Floyd is over it.

TJ comes home and talks to Mo. He is sad to learn that nobody thinks he’s innocent but says that TJ has to believe him because he has the “wide-eyed innocence of a child.” He follows this up with shitty examples of kids trusting adults who end up being assholes. Once they finally get on a good example, TJ is able to see that Mo is innocent and decides to help Mo get back into school.

The next day, TJ is in the principal’s office waiting for Linda Ellerbee. She has mice in her office because Piedmont is the worst public school ever and is resorting to playing the Spice Girls to get them out. Is that supposed to be a diss to the Spice Girls? Fuck anyone who disses the Spice Girls.

Sis is not budging when it comes to letting Mo back in the school. Sounds like a job for TJ’s cuteness and persistence! He gets her to agree to a mock trial where Mo would have to come back to the school. I...whatever. Order in the courtroom!

TJ is Mo’s defense. The opposinjg side calls Marcus to the stand so we already know this will end in disaster. It takes less than a minute for Marcus to admit that Mo threatened Mr. B. Ugh! Stupid Marcus. But he doesn’t even do the worst on the stand. Mo actually manages to fuck it all up! Marcus and TJ are trying to paint Mo out to be, what the kids today would call it, a “punk ass bitch.” Rather than play along and accept it, dumb ass Mo puts his stupid, fragile masculinity ahead of his chance to get back into school and says that he follows through on all threats. Once he realizes his gaffe, he immediately sits his ass down. Yvette is annoyed.

Vice principal Millitch, who will later replace Linda Ellerbee in one of the only sensical things I’ve seen regarding Piedmont, qualifies that Mo’s playbook was found at the scene next to Mr. B’s burnt gradebook. It was nice knowing ya, Mo. We know how the legal system works.

So then the loser teacher gets on the stand and tries to make it seem like he doesn’t intentionally make his students suffer by giving them ridiculously hard tests and lying about what’s even going to be on the test. To him, Mo is just a stupid, violent nigger so of course he’d want to commit a crime instead of studying harder. And then he lays it on thicker by insulting his intelligence again, explaining what the word combust means in the most smug ass, irritating way. It’s fucked up upon re-watch but at least it’s super realistic how predominately black public schools get racist white teachers often. They’re usually there for the tuition reimbursement.

TJ is now realizing that he may not be able to help Mo out of this jam. While eating dinner, Yvette comes in and apologizes for her lateness, saying the trial is over and now the school can continue with the play rehearsals. She tells an adamant TJ that Mr. B, also assuming the trial’s conclusion, was chain smoking cigarettes and humming “Don’t Worry Be Happy.” Floyd is appalled at the latter. TJ’s gears begin shifting. Side note but doesn’t Mr. B just look like a miserable ass teacher who smokes in the classroom?

TJ and Mo break into the school. Geez, so much trespassing in this episode! Mo isn’t even worried about being caught because what are they gonna do, “expel him from college?” Slapstick ensues while TJ collects samples from the gradebook. Mo, on the other hand, is battling a mouse trap. I was super high when I watched this last night but this scene had me in stitches. Omar Gooding is really good with physical comedy. Look, even TJ gets stuck to him when they’re leaving! Priceless!

At court the next morning, TJ calls Mr. B to the stand. He brilliantly examines him and exposes him for smoking in the classroom, which was the actual cause for the fire. This man is fucking evil! He was actually about to get away with very possibly ruining a teenager’s life until a fucking 10 year old stepped in and dug deeper. He could have seriously gotten him disowned by his parents, making him homeless, forcing him to turn to the streets for survival. All because he’s an asshole and didn’t have the heart to own up to what he did. Hell, it’s fucking Piedmont! I’m sure they would have kept him!

Seeing as he just gets sent to Linda’s office, he’s most likely getting a slap on the wrist and paid vacation leave. Oh well. Also frustratingly realistic. At least Mo isn’t expelled anymore. Too bad Mo’s unwashed hands are still sticky when he shakes the principal’s hand and the joke continues.

At the end, Marcus gets bumped up to the illustrious Juror #2. Gotta love a true thespian! Case dismissed. Bring out the dancing lobsters.

Things I noticed:

- Stinky Steve is Mr. B’s defense.

- Piedmont has no respect for their students’ time. The mock trial began at 8am. Assuming that their school day begins at 9am, I bet the play participants probably hate TJ for forcing them to get up an hour earlier than normal, on top of having to do the play after school.

#tj henderson #smart guy #tahj mowry #yvette henderson #essence atkins #john marshall jones #marcus henderson #jason weaver #stinky steve #sister sister #morris tibbs #mo tibbs #omar gooding #floyd henderson

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blackssuunn-mandoandyodito · 4 years

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Tabaco y Brea

A Javier Peña fanfic

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Warnings: slight angst, slight fluff, sweating?, swearing, running?, somebody needs to explain this to me please.

Word count: 2.5 k

A/N: alright friends, this is the first chapter of a series I’m working on. As you can see, it’s called Tabaco y Brea. If you have any questions, hit me up. I hope you like this, enjoy!

Chapter 1: Stuffy basement

Bogotá was a sight that you had yet to stop being amazed at. Walking through its streets for the first time all those months ago almost brought tears to your eyes. Growing up in the United States and thinking that you may never get out of there gave you little to no reference in this country's culture, although your father being Mexican helped you master Spanish and he showed your way to dance. Early 1981 was not a great year to be in Colombia, but you were here as a DEA agent after all, not as a tourist. You could feel things getting bigger, and you weren't sure how you'll be able to handle it.

As you kept walking, you asked yourself the same question of your everyday life. Why the fuck did you choose to live so far away from the Embassy?

(You knew the answer, but it didn’t make mornings easier)

The heat made your clothes cling to you with sweat, your hair even in a ponytail was soaked and the headache was just getting stronger the more you walked through the avenue.

And you were late, dammit!

Your heels could be heard as you started to run to catch the bus, gripping your purse as if life depended on it. With the amount of money they paid you, you could easily afford a car, but attracting that much attention wasn't a great idea. You still couldn't understand how the narcos hadn't managed to get your information.

The bus was already at the bus stop when you turned the corner, and you didn't know if you could make it.

"Ey! Ey! Esperen!" (Hey! Hey! Wait!) You started waving your hand towards it, seeing that the last person in line was hopping on. The driver, thankfully, saw you and waited. You started running faster and finally climbed the stairs. It was packed.

Well, it seemed that you'd go standing.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You seriously didn't think you could get more soaked from the heat, sweat even more than you already were.

You were wrong.

When you got to the Embassy, the entire back of your shirt was plastered to your body. Your thighs were starting to get grazed because of your skirt and your hair was all frizzy and probably resembled a nest of birds.

You took a deep breath, tried to fix your hair a little bit, and pushed the door. Nobody even glanced at you, and you were glad. If anybody dared to even look at you funny, you were going to lose it.

"Ey compañera. Mala mañana?" (Hey partner. Bad morning?)

Oh, just what you needed.

"¿Qué quieres Peña?" (What do you want Peña?) you rolled your eyes at him. He didn't look much better than you anyway. His pink shirt was sticking to his chest, even though he had several buttons open, letting you see his wet neck. His face was sweaty too, with rosy cheeks and his hair sticking to his forehead.

You arched your eyebrow. "No tienes mucho mejor aspecto que yo Javier" (You don’t look much better than I do Javier)

He gave a soft laugh, the idiot. You weren't in the best of moods to handle him, so you turned around and walked to your desk, then sat down with a grump.

"Vamos nena, alégrate un poco" (Come on baby, lighten up a little) you glared at him and started reading through the papers you had to check today. It was usually yours and Javier's, that asshole didn't do any of his own paperwork and you were stuck doing both almost all the time. Carina had given you a weird stare the first time you were ranting about it to her, but you were sure you didn't want to know what she was thinking. It was nothing that you didn't know anyways.

Once he realized you were definitely not in the mood for your usual banter, he stopped and sat down in his desk,at the right from yours. Silence (or as much silence as an office can have) settled and the sounds of sheets of paper turning and Javi working with his typewriter slowly calmed you and helped you concentrate with what you were reading. The fan that barely provided you of fresh air at least served as background noise for the amount of stuff that your mind was processing, and it even cooled you down a little bit. The headache was gone and so was the bad mood. After some time had passed and you weren't sweating as much as before, you asked yourself what on Earth was Javi doing if you had his paperwork at your desk.

"Hey Javi, what are you doing? At least have the decency to offer help!" you said as he turned to look at you. He smiled, noticing your mood improvement. Pulling his chair with him, he crossed the little space between your desks and opened the folder that he had been looking at.

"There's the Bera I know" You tried to hide a smile at the nickname. "I got some intel that could help us with this bullshit"

His voice, all business know, gave you a sense of peace. Even if he was a little shit most of the time, he was the only one who had been with you since you arrived back in 1979. He didn't have much more experience than you back then, had only been in Colombia for a couple of months himself, but he knew his way around better than you. He taught you the things you didn't know, and if neither of you did then you figured them out together.

"And what is that intel, agent Peña?" you teased him. You weren't oblivious to his ways of fishing out info, of course. He smacked you lightly in the arm and showed you the papers.

"A cottage on the outside of Cali seems to be a type of safehouse for Escobar's merca," he says while pointing at the pictures that were inside the folder "if this is true, we need to do a raid soon, but we have to make sure the intel is right before we take that risk"

The cottage was small, nobody would pay attention to it if they were walking past. It looked like an abandoned house, and you knew that was exactly what Escobar's men were hoping for. Although you were surprised they were stupid enough to have something even remotely close to a city, that didn't sound right.

You nod, "so that means...?"

He looks at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"That means we need to stay for a few days in Cali, nena"

You have to grip your chair to physically restrain yourself from jumping of happiness. You loved Cali, the very few occasions you had free time you took a bus there (9 hours and all) and spent the nights in the dancing clubs. Cali gave you a sense of love and alleviated the homesick feeling that had been nagging you for years. It reminded you of your father even if this wasn't his country.

"Are you serious? Don't play with me Javi" he nodded.

"You know I don't play with this shit", his voice sounded serious, almost offended.

He knew how much you enjoyed being there, but you also knew he took his work very seriously. In both cases, you doubted he would joke about something like that, but it was almost too good to be true to believe it that easily.

You started to plan things in your head. Where would you stay? Close to the cottage? Close to downtown Cali? Would you have any free time to enjoy the pleasures of Cali nights? You hoped so because if not you were going to explode.

"So when do we leave then?" you look him in the eyes, a grin spread big on your face.

"It depends", your smile fell. "We have to welcome the new gringo, remember?"

Ugh, yes. You forgot about that.

"So when does he arrive?"

Javi shrugged. "I'm not sure, but it will be this or the next week."

You weren't sure if bringing someone else to this shitshow was a good idea. Enough lives have been lost to this war, and you didn't see the point of putting at risk another one.

"Will we take him with us?"

“He's not very good with Spanish"

Your smile returned, this time for entirely different reasons. "So we're gonna have some fun with him?"

Javi looked at you, amusement in his eyes. He shook his head.

"I don't think that's a good idea muñeca, he's coming with his wife" (doll)

You got the message, even if he didn't say it out loud. He has a family, something to lose. You don't, not really. Besides your own lives, that is. If you want to play Russian roulette with them, it's your problem. But the new guy had someone to come back to.

So, helping the gringo it was.

"What's his name again?" you ask. You had read about him a few weeks back when they told you he was coming. But you didn't even remember he was coming, much less were you going to remember his name.

"Steve Murphy" Oh yeah, it sounded familiar now. "He did his training directly at Quantico, so he must be good"

That you remembered. He was one of those guys who spent the 18 weeks (although you knew they were only 13 if you did it there) of DEA training in Quantico, inside the U.S. Marine Corps Base and next to the FBI academy. They weren't common here, you and Javi had done it elsewhere.

"So after we pick him up, we plan this shit out, right?"

Javi nodded. "I hope so"

He went back to his desk and you kept going through the paperwork. It was not an easy task, but that one time you made Javier do his own, he had taken so much time to do it that you passed the deadline and the boss ripped you both a new one. After that, you did a silent agreement where you did it all, Javier providing all info necessary and taking the blame if anything was wrong, even if it didn't happen frequently. He'd bring you Colombian coffee when the weather wasn't as hot as now, he knew you didn't like the one at the office and thought it "tasted like dirt", he would listen to you rant about certain reports and say whatever he thought you needed to hear in those moments.

You enjoyed spending your time with him, even if most of it you were arguing about something.

The day passed rather quickly, with so much to do you didn't even have time to glance at your watch or even the clock hanging in the opposite wall.

Soon, it was time to leave again, but you hadn't finished your work and it was due to a couple of days. You hated doing things just before delivery time, so you decided you were going to stay and work some more. It wasn't like someone was waiting for you anyways.

Half of the work was done, so you weren't going to stay much. Just enough so you could go back and finish tomorrow.

"Ey compañera, hora de irnos" (Hey partner, time to go) Javier sounded tired, and you figured trying to find leads and speaking all day with your superiors was exhausting too. You hated doing the calls, so he took that one for both of you.

"No me iré Javi, debo avanzar un poco con esto" (I won’t leave Javi, I need to get ahead with this) He frowned at you, with his beige jacket already in his hands. You figured you looked tired too, all day reading was doing an impact in your eyes.

"What do you mean you're not leaving? You just spent 12 hours doing paperwork, you need to rest"

You sighed. He was right, you knew that, but you wouldn't be able to finish if you didn't stay.

Seeing he wasn't going to get an answer because you were stubborn and ignored him if you had already made a decision, he hung up his jacket again and pulled his chair close to your desk. Then, glaring at you, he sat down and propped his elbows in the table, letting his face fall between his hands.

A few minutes passed, and you were starting to get uneasy under the power of his stare.

"Javi? What are you doing?"

He didn't answer.

"What?" you asked, defensively. "Do I have something on my face?"

He shook his head, still not saying anything.

"Javier!"

He started laughing at your bothered yell, finally releasing you from the pinned look he was giving you. You let out a frustrated sigh, understanding what were his intentions.

"You're gonna glare me into leaving, aren't you?"

His nod was your only answer, accompanied by a grin spread across his face.

The thing about your relationship was that even if you fought almost every day for the stupidest things, he took care of you. He made sure you got rest, ate decent food, got home safe. He protected you in the raids, even if you weren't his main focus. And you did your best to take care of him too, but he wouldn't let you.

At least not like you wanted.

He would go almost every weekend to search for the love you were so willing to provide for him in other women, in his so-called informants. And it hurt you, more than anything else.

You smiled at him.

"Let's go"

He smiled too, standing up. You saved your files in one of the drawers, took your coat, and rounded your desk.

Out of the office, everything was silent. The sun had already set, leaving you at the darkness of the night. You checked your watch. It was...11 PM already, damn. You didn't know it was that late.

"I'll drop you off at your home", his voice was soft.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Everything with Javi was difficult at night. You were looser because of the tiredness, fed up with everything. You wished to be between his arms, it was the only thing you asked for. But you knew you couldn't.

Both of you climbed into his Jeep, and he drove off to your apartment.

"Why did you choose to live far from the Embassy anyways?"

He had asked the same question a thousand times before, and it was always the same answer. He never looked at you when he said it, his attention straight out the windshield. You couldn't figure out why he kept doing it, no matter how much you tried, no matter how much time you spent thinking about it.

"I wanted to get to know Colombia, not just the stuffy low-rise bunker in the basement of the U.S. embassy."

Once you got to the apartment complex, he parked his car and stretched to open your door.

"Good night compañera" (partner)

You smiled in response, took your purse and jumped out of the car. Feeling his stare boring into your back as you walked to the door, you got out your keys and turned around.

Once you waved him goodbye, he bowed his head and turned on the engine leaving with a creak of tires.

"Good night Javi"

Tag list: @dynphomaniac

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña x you #pedro pascal x you #narcos #narcos fanfic #reader insert #pedro pascal fanfiction #tagging is hard #my writing #tabaco y brea

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