#where would i be without your speeches about family
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Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family - part 3
Part 3 - Yor's keigo
I discussed in part 1 about the different levels of speech in Japanese, particularly how Twilight changes his speech depending on the persona he's donning. He uses keigo, the standard polite form of speech, when he's acting as Loid Forger, but uses casual speech as Twilight. Yor, however, uses keigo all the time, to a degree that some would feel is excessive, but also makes sense for her character.
Keigo is the most basic form of polite speech in Japanese. It's the speech that's taught in pretty much every beginner Japanese learning course because it's the "safest" for most situations. Without getting too technical, it basically involves using the polite conjugations of verbs. All verbs in Japanese have a "polite" conjugation form that's used in keigo. For example, the verb "to go," 行く (iku), will change to 行きます (ikimasu): change the く(ku) to き (ki) and add -ます (-masu). -masu itself is then conjugated further to show past tense, negative tense, etc. Likewise, one would use です (desu) as the "to be" verb instead of its casual equivalent だ (da). For example, saying 車です (kuruma desu), which means "there is a car" instead of 車だ (kuruma da). It's even more casual to leave out the "to be" verb altogether.
Unlike Twilight, who changes his speech depending on who he's talking to or which facade he's using, Yor consistently uses keigo, whether she's talking to an adult like Loid, a child like Anya, and even an animal like Bond. She uses keigo with strangers as well, even those who are antagonistic to her, like the other assassins in the cruise arc.
Even at times when using polite speech isn't warranted, like in her own thoughts, she still uses keigo regardless.
In addition to using keigo with pretty much everyone, she also uses the polite -さん (-san) honorific with everyone's names as well. It's not unusual to do this with fellow adults like Loid, Camilla, and Franky, but when it comes to kids, especially when they're not your own kids, other honorifics are also an option. For example, adults can use the honorifics -ちゃん (-chan) for little girls and -くん (-kun) for little boys, both of which denote endearment to someone young/cute. Loid calls Damian "Damian-kun" and Fiona calls Anya "Anya-chan" for example. But Yor uses "-san" for Anya, Damian, Becky, and probably every other kid she hasn't met yet! She uses "-san" with animals as well, which isn't nearly as common. She's the only one who calls Bond "Bond-san" and she even called the cat Kopi from chapter 43, "Kopi-san."
She also uses "-san" for people whose names she doesn't know, and in some cases, probably shouldn't show respect to. She calls the terrorists from the doggy crisis arc "terrorist-san", bad guys that she takes out on her missions "warumono-san," Olka's group "mafia-san," and the other assassins from the cruise arc "koroshiya-san."
The only exception to Yor's excessive use of keigo is Yuri, which makes sense since it's standard practice to be more casual with a younger relative than an older relative or someone outside the family. He's the only person she refers to without "-san" (she just calls him "Yuri"). And while she does use the informal verb forms with him, she still uses "desu" and its conjugations. So overall, she's more casual with him, but not completely so.
When talking about herself, Yor uses the standard, gender-neutral, polite word for "I"/"me," 私 (watashi). However, when talking to others, she never uses any form of "you." Like I mentioned in part 1 about how there's different ways of saying "I" and "me" in Japanese depending on the speech level, the same is true for "you." But it's always more polite to say someone's name or title instead of "you," and Yor does that all the time. Just like in part 2 how I couldn't recall any instance where Anya says "I" or "me" since she always refers to herself in third person, I can't recall any time Yor called someone "you" instead of saying their name or title.
While Loid uses the casual "you" word お前 (omae) when talking to Anya, Bond, Franky, and anyone else he doesn't have to be polite with, he doesn't use any form of "you" for Yor. He speaks to her the same way she does to him – saying her name plus "-san" instead of using "you."
Unlike English, Japanese is a language where you don't have to say pronouns if it's understood by the context, which is why something like this is difficult to convey in a translation.
I think it's an interesting contrast that Twilight is constantly changing how he speaks depending on whether he's acting as Loid Forger, as a spy, whether he's conversing with a fellow spy like Fiona, a casual friend like Franky, someone he respects but can't be fully open with like Yor, and even how he talks to himself in his head…yet Yor is the total opposite. As I've discussed in this post, she's extremely consistent in her speech, never straying from being polite no matter who she's speaking to or whether she's in her Thorn Princess role or not, or even whether she's speaking to herself in her head or not. This just further proves that, while Yor has to keep her assassin job a secret, she doesn't have to create a fake persona for it. Unlike Twilight, who acts one way as a spy and another way as Loid Forger, and perhaps another as his "true" self, Yor doesn't feel the need to hide anything about herself other than her job as an assassin – Thorn Princess and Yor Forger are the same person who shows respect for others no matter what her relationship is with them.
Such excessive use of keigo is odd for a fluent speaker, but it's not unheard of. There are plenty of examples of characters from other anime/manga who use keigo all the time too. I think it gives us an interesting, subtle look into their character. In Yor's case, I think her constant use of keigo comes from a combination of her sweet personality that never wants to offend anyone, but also her poor self-esteem. After all, keigo and other polite forms of Japanese speech are meant to elevate the listener while humbling the speaker. Yor speaks politely to everyone because she simply wants to be kind to everyone and make them feel comfortable, even those she has to kill, but at the same time, she often feels inferior to others.
However, there are rare exceptions where Yor stops using keigo which are, appropriately, during very suspenseful, high-stakes moments where politeness would be the least of her worries. For example, during her fight with Barnaby when she realizes she's holding back, she starts using casual speech. But she goes back to keigo before too long.
But probably the most notable example of her completely dropping keigo is near the end of her big battle against the assassins on the cruise ship, where she finally comes to realize what she's fighting for. During her whole epiphany scene – starting from when she thinks of Yuri and herself as kids until she stands up and says she won't stop fighting – she switches completely to casual speech.
There are many ways to interpret this, but I think it shows what an emotional revelation this was for her: she remembered that the suffering in the world is what caused her to want to protect Yuri from any kind of tragedy, and now the same can be said for Loid, Anya, and Bond. She remembered the words of acceptance she heard from Loid when they first met, words no one else had likely ever said to her before. She realized that she didn't care what happened to her as long as she could stop anything bad from happening to her loved ones – in that moment, no formalities were necessary with such intense self-reflection.
<- Return to Part 2
#sxf#spy x family#spy family#spyxfamily#loid forger#yor forger#anya forger#twiyor#sxf manga#sxf analysis#sxf manga spoilers#sxf meta
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#Picture Perfect
Sypnosis: Where do they keep pictures/polaroids of you (and them)?
Warnings: Not proofread, reader admits that there were times they felt insecure at Levi's, morally grey reader(?), Mammon's section kind of derails from main topic, posessive/jealous Levi, possible mischaracterization because I haven't played in a long time
Featuring: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor x GN! reader
LUCIFER... who keeps pictures of you safe in his wallet. Honestly... it's not the most flattering picture of you, but he likes it a fair bit. It reminds him of the times when he used to think of you as just "the human exchange student" and not "(Name), our family."
The picture - taken by the RAD newspaper club - shows you being introduced to the whole school as the new exchange student. You look completely unamused. If his memory serves him correctly, you had no sleep last night since Mammon was unaware of the human cardiac cycle and how you needed sleep everyday. Your hands were clasped in front of you and you were sort of glaring at him from where you were standing.
He was confidently giving his speech, face neutral and completely unaware of the eyes burning holes into his back. In fact, it only garnered more attention because you had the guts to glare at the third most powerful demon in all of Devildom in such a way. It probably slipped your mind then that he had the power to snap your neck in half.
He kept it in his wallet as a reminder to warn you about controlling yourself. It'd be especially bad for his image if the human he was taking care of had the nerve to glare at Diavolo like that. Though, he never really found the time. It slipped his mind all the time simply because you never glared at any of his brothers in that way as more and more time passed.
You were unreasonably kind, he realised.
Occasionally, Mammon will attempt to steal his wallet and gets the shock of his life when he sees a photo of you by his debit card. You look absolutely horrible and... man! Mammon won't be letting Lucifer off the hook anytime soon - or rather, it's the other way around now that Lucifer has Mammon strung upside down by Cerberus as a personal piñata.
MAMMON... the mastermind, and you, his partner-in-crime. News spreads like wildfire in devildom. With the amount of havoc that he imprints with his every step, it's natural that cameramen have a tendency to tail him when things get dry or mundane.
Poor you. You're always caught his trouble and plastered as his accomplice to the point where you've gained quite the notorious name around Devildom.
In the past when Mammon went missing, Lucifer found that there was a much more effective way to find the Avatar of Greed without lifting a finger. Rather than putting up missing posters, bounties were placed on Mammon's head - it ranged from $100,000 grimm to millions depending on Lucifer's mood. If someone did ever find the demon, they would receive the allocated amount of course. However, Mammon rivals no one at speed, the only person who would have him on a leash would be Lucifer.
Since you're always stringed along with Mammon during his schemes, Asmodeus jokingly decided to submit a stunning photo of you to RAD's newspaper club with a bounty of infinity. It went completely viral! You can't imagine how shocked everyone was to see a human's bounty in Devildom, wanted (alive) in all of the three realms and the top "criminal" in hell.
As an inside joke between the brothers, anyone who brings you back to the HOL requires at least 20,000 grimm or some form of payment if another brother wants to hang out with you (Beel gets paid the most, Levi is the top-payer). You were certainly surprised when Satan snatched you away when Mammon's back was turned to you. He returned you back to HOL, amused when Asmo actually gave Satan some spare Grimm. Asmo would insist on painting your nails, plopping you down on his bed as Satan decides that he also needed some personal time with you as an extra reward for bringing you back.
Now, Mammon has your bounty in his room as a reminder that he has the most precious treasure in the three realms with him, the person whose worth exceeds any countable number, you.
LEVIATHAN... who can be camera-shy sometimes and totally gets it if you feel the same way. Sometimes, he just doesn't feel that sure of himself and he realises you more in common with him than he expected when you admit that you'll occasionally feel that way too.
Most of the pictures he has of you two are faceless except for the really special occasions and he doesn't actually own physical copies of the pictures like his brothers. He keeps them safe in an folder on his gaming computer and he references them whenever he wants to add a custom character (you) into a new game.
Sure, it may seem a little creepy to have a collection of photos of someone else on your computer, yes I can see how that can play out. However, Levi really doesn't mean harm. Most of his pictures there are actually in-game moments with you.
Finally beat a really difficult boss together? Finished a game in record timing? Screenshotting that! That's gonna be stored in the folder for memory's sake. In reality, he has way more videos than photos of you and him together than anything. You once recorded how long he can yap about his recent hyper fixation and, safe to say, you completely underestimated him.
He has videos of both of your live reactions to a new anime opening song, definitely treats it like a stream and pretends that he's talking to an audience with you.
Levi does stream quite often and you usually get featured as his special guest, but you have to understand that you're working with the Avatar of Envy, sweetheart. He definitely found it a little upsetting when you saw Beel type in chat that he's saving extra food for you in the fridge. You rushed down immediately and when you left, he ended the stream without hesitation.
He's keeping his photos and videos of you to himself from now on. No more streaming with you.
SATAN... prefers miscellaneous photos of you. Caught off-guard, mouth agape and lips curled into a smile he's so used to cherishing that it's become second nature. It highlights your imperfections, yes, but he only grows more fond of it if it's you.
Ironically, it seems more humane to see you in that way - cupcake batter all over your face as you bake, a maple leaf stuck in your hair as autumn arrives in Devildom. It reminds him that, "hey, I'm still your human no matter how perfect I seem." It reassures him that you're still the human that tripped over his books on multiple occasions, never learning your lesson.
You seemed unreachable to him in the way that he feels like he doesn't really deserve you. A romantic, heartfelt kiss or soft whispers of comfort by the shell of his ear would ease the doubt in his heart. However, Satan has learned that looking at these genuine, authentic photos of you is quite effective as well.
Unfiltered, raw, even the borderline unsightly and vulgar version of you, it's nice in its own unique way. That's the way Satan was created - unsightly, bloody, horrid. Of course, it doesn't mean he sees you in a negative light, but seeing your imperfect sides... makes you feel a little less far from him somehow.
Past all of the charming smiles and gentlemanly demeanour is someone who isn't as perfect as he'd like to seem. You'd be able to understand him with all the impurities plaguing him, right? You'd still hug him and let his claws dig into the skin of your back? You'd forgive him?
"So what?" and with two words, he was completely appalled by the simplicity of your answer. In any case, your bluntness could be interpreted as rudeness. He'd be fuming at how lightly you're treating his issues. But, that's just how little you care about flaws.
Satan laughs. A weight lifts off his shoulders and he feels... relieved. Visit him tonight, won't you? He can finally admit to someone how hard it's been to master his wrath all alone.
ASMODEUS... who dedicates his own Devilgram as not only a memory of his best moments but also your best moments. And, oh my, did his fans love you.
When he first featured you, he actually received a little hate (he couldn't give two fucks) due to how controversial of a topic you were at first. Funnily enough, the puny human he calls family today gained him a lot of traction of Devilgram, especially after you became a hot topic once you formed your first pact with Mammon.
From behind the scenes, he'd keep his followers updated on you and the hot water you'd find yourself in, eating his popcorn with a grin and posting. The more he posted about you, the more his fans started appreciating how brave you actually were for a human.
You had a Devilgram of your own, but you rarely posted there since your first few months in Devildom were spent wisely on adjusting to the HOL. Your (unknown) admirers were getting their daily scraps of you through Asmo.
Asmo would realise sooner or later that having both you and him in a picture is the formula for a guaranteed successful post. The Avatar of Lust and a human (demons are literally TEMPTED to have their soul; it's described as a JEWEL) in one photo?! Oh shit, blow the whole roof off because it was a massive hit. (Trendsetter MC and Asmo!??!)
As for Asmo, he loves that his darling is also receiving the love and attention they deserve. In fact, he wholeheartedly supports you with every fibre of his being. He's your biggest fan and you're his.
Plus, his Devilgram is the perfect outlet to shock his brothers. He once posted a picture of himself by your side on his bed. He grins at the camera, showing off his smeared lipstick as your face is dotted with kiss marks.
Disappointingly, it got reported and taken down in an hour or so. (That doesn't mean he doesn't have the photo)
BEELZEBUB... sticks that family picture on the fridge with a magnet. Yeah, he could totally hang it at the entrance by the stairs. Sure, he could frame it up. Yet, it's more homey having it somewhere he always visits and looks at.
Additionally, when Beel's hunger gets the best of him, the picture on the fridge forces him to remember if he has any delegated tasks today. "Oh yeah, Satan wanted some help picking up books from the library today, something about a book sale." "Belphie told me his pillow had a hole in it; I better get him a new one after visiting Hell's Kitchen."
At times when the whole family isn't home, having the picture also serves as a mental checklist! "Oh yeah, MC hasn't eaten dinner yet. Better get them something." "Lucifer wanted another cup of black coffee I think, I'll get him a snack just in case." Making sure everyone is eating well is really important to him because of his own appetite. He hates how empty it feels being hungry, why would he ever put any of his family members through that kind of torture?
Furthermore, he feels a little guilty for always eating so much. Ensuring that everyone has eaten is a role that he's assigned for himself.
It's something the whole family values, but it's especially special for Beel. When he goes on a hunger rampage and tears the kitchen up from wall to wall, if there's any damage done to the photo... you can expect a lot of apologies. (Lucifer has to schedule another time for a family photo to cheer him up asap)
He still has an old photo of the whole family without you actually - it leaves a bittersweet feeling to throw out any kind of precious photo. Yet, the more he looks at it, the more it feels incomplete without you in the picture.
Huh, you know what? He'll search for you right now to grab something from Hell's Kitchen. Nothing much, he just wants to check up on you and get his 80 plates of cheeseburgers.
BELPHEGOR... who has a silver locket of you, him, and Beel on him at all times. It's convenient, lightweight, portable, and silver looks good on him according to Asmo.
Whenever he feels like he misses you or Beel (or both), opening up the locket solves 50% of his problems. However, it's not like he can hug the locket to sleep and bury his face into its shoulder. It's not as if the locket can carry him when his legs feel sore. All he can really do is hold it to his heart and shoot you/Beel a text.
Still, he does feel a little more relieved to see the photo. Whenever that rotting feeling of loneliness gets to him, one look at his locket reminds him that, "Hey, I still have them." It does ease his doubts, but we both know he'd never admit that openly.
Pressing the cold silver against his lips also became a habit he developed soon after getting the locket. Belphie... has chapped lips since he's always asleep and never drinking water. The cold feeling kind of distracts him from that uncomfortable feeling - it's much less effort than going all the way downstairs, grabbing a glass from the pantry, pouring water from a jug into it.... you know the drill.
Both you and Beel have one as well, but you don't wear it as often since Asmo loves to accessorize you with all sorts of new jewellery to try on. Beel wears it yeah, but it's usually off when he's eating - which is most of the time - since oil and grease are super obvious on silver stuff and it pains him to get something so precious dirty.
The other brothers are actually grateful he has the locket despite the initial jealousy. Belphie has his fair share of tantrums and everyone knows how younger, spoiled siblings can be when something pisses them off. The brothers have to try and baby him, which only ticks him off further. One peek at the locket when you or Beel aren't around and suddenly, it's like he's a new person - back to normal in a flash.
It saved Mammon's face a good punch when he accidently stepped on Belphie's foot at the planeterium while he was sleeping.
Taglist: Empty :(
#obey me x mc#obey me shall we date#obmswd#lucifer x mc#lucifer x reader#lucifer x you#omswd mammon#mammon x mc#mammon x reader#om! levi x reader#leviathan obey me#obey me leviathan#omswd satan#satan x reader#satan x mc#obey me asmodeus#asmo x reader#asmo x mc#obey me beelzebub#beelzebub x reader#obey me beel x reader#obey me belphie#belphegor x reader#obey me belphegor#obey me x you#obey me x reader#obey me x y/n#obey me x gender neutral reader
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Everything Will Bring a Chain of Love
Request: "It would be so fun if you name it after me!" "No, it wouldn't." where it’s one of the Greyhounds other than Jamie trying to convince Roy and the wife of your choosing
I already miss Roy and Bucky, so this is a little blurb about their sweet future together!
0.8k words
Warnings: Language, pregnancy, absolute fluffffffffffff
Something There Masterlist
“To Baby Kent!” Jamie called out at the end of his little speech- the one Roy begged him not to do and Bucky insisted on- and raised his glass.
“Baby Kent!” everyone gathered in the Kents’ backyard echoed, amid shouts of laugher and little cheers.
It was a bit of an unconventional baby shower, Roy admitted to himself. Rather than a party populated by women in summery dresses sipping lemonade and cooing over baby clothes, Bucky’s baby shower was attended by athletes who drank beers and took the shower games a bit too seriously.
Roy turned to his wife now, wrapping an arm around her. “How is Baby Kent?” he hummed as he pressed a kiss to her temple.
Bucky smiled and dragged Roy’s hand down to her round belly. “Kicking up a storm,” she said with a playful eyeroll. “She’s already training for the 2040 Olympics.”
“I am never going to win an argument again,” he growled playfully, “when both of you have Olympic gold.”
Her laughter warmed his heart. “Would you have it any other way, Kent?”
Before Roy could assure her that no, he absolutely fucking wouldn’t, the couple found themselves dragged over to a corner of the yard where several Greyhounds and Whippets were gathered. Roy felt got a fuzzy little feeling in his chest as he gazed at the assembled group, his weird little family. This was the life he and Bucky had built together, a life filled with these big smiles from people who were tied together by a love of football. A life where these same people came over for dinners, travelled to matches and holidays together, and now came to his and his wife’s baby shower. It was something he wouldn’t have imagined before Bucky, and something he now couldn’t imagine his life without.
Isaac spoke up, interrupting Roy’s musings. “Alright, we’re tired of waiting,” he announced. “Coach Buck said you guys still don’t have a name for Baby Kent, so we’ve come up with some ideas for you guys.”
“Oh, this should be good,” Bucky snorted, tugging Roy close to herself. Roy simply chuckled and wrapped his arms around her.
The group took turns offering up their ideas- foreign names neither manager could pronounce, trendy names that the couple had already privately wrinkled their noses at, book and movie characters that meant nothing to them. Every suggestion was met with polite nods and tight smiles from the new parents, both secretly waiting to be alone so they could tell the other one little word: “No.”
Finally, Dani stepped forward, looking particularly proud. “Dani,” he said simply.
Bucky shot Roy a quizzical look before turning back to the Greyhound. “That’s your name,” she reminded him.
“I know,” he chuckled, all smiles and sunshine. “It would be so fun if you name her after me!”
“No,” Roy said flatly. “It wouldn’t.” His voice brightened. “Besides, she’s already got a name.”
Before the group could ask what it was, Bucky whirled around to look at Roy with narrowed eyes. “Oh, she does, does she, Coach?” the very pregnant coach scoffed at her husband.
The footballers braced themselves for a fight, remembering the bickering they’d witnessed before the two managers finally got together. They were ready for the shouts and swears, and a good heaping of sexual tension. A few of them were already grimacing at the memories of the arguments that echoed around the Dog Track during those first tumultuous months.
“’course she does,” Roy hummed, reaching down to rub Buck’s belly. “It’s Brandi. For Brandi Chastain,” he clarified unnecessarily.
There it was, that wide, red-lipped smile, the one that still sent Roy’s heart into overdrive. She wrapped her arms around Roy, pulling him as close as her stomach would allow. He chuckled and returned the embrace tightly.
“We like the name?” he whispered into her hair, allowing himself to forget about the fact that their teams were watching them. All he wanted to think about right now- alright forever- was his little family.
Bucky pulled back, revealing the tears in her eyes- a rare sight. “We fucking love the name,” she assured him. She tugged him towards herself so she could kiss his lips. “She’s got no choice but to wear the number six now.”
The two held each other, lost in their little world, thinking of the precious little girl that would be coming soon, whose first word would be ‘fuck’, who’d be kicking a football the moment she could walk, who’d grow up on the pitch, with the loudest parents in the world. A little girl who would be so loved- by her parents, by two football squads- it was ridiculous.
Dani cleared his throat, bringing the new parents out of their daydreams. “Or,” he said pointedly. “Maybe we could revisit the name Dani?”
#request ❤️#roy kent something there#he's here he's there he's every fucking where#roy kent#roy kent fanfic#roy kent fic#roy kent fanfiction#roy kent imagine
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Satan & Violins
I share a lot of similarities with Satan, even when before they canonized something about him; one of them being violinist!Satan😭 In spite of me having a mini identity crisis following the drop of his canon violinist card, i think it makes sense! heres why.
Disclaimer!
1. I have not picked up an instrument in years
2. This is purely bcuz my brain is so busy thinking abt Satan so its kinda rambly. . Pls bare w me T_T
3. THIS IS LONG IM SO SORRY
4. Not too used to tumblr writing just yet sorry if it's messy
(Uploaded on my twitter aswell :D)
The violin and its family, unlike other string instruments (ex. the guitar), doesnt have these little things (that i forgor the name of because im a bad musician) that separates every note. those little separating thingies are the reason why people who dont know shit about playing a key on guitar but memorize musical scales (me) is at least able to strum a simple one octave melody.
Obviously, the two come in with their one difficulty (i prefer the violin myself), but it's a little bit harder to pull that trick with the violin. As you can see, theres not exactly something to tell you where each note begins or where they end. Nothing to determine where is where. You simply have to memorize the placement and the distance between each note. You basically play the violin with Your Gut (1). We'll keep this in mind for now.
Moving on, let's talk about body posture.
Beginner violinist usually directlty face towards the strings when playing, as they aren't used to letting their 'gut' lead the show. However, more experienced players would find no need to do so. A quick glance at Satan's art could tell us he was at least above beginner level to be brave enough to face (us) instead.
When you're not facing your violin, you would usually lean your head towards it, resulting in your ear becoming the closest thing to it- here's a real life example:
Now, if there was anything my teacher warned me before starting violin, is that even without having your ear be the closest thing to it, the strings are already LOUD😭 so its even louder when you alr have ur ear on it. The violin is considered one of the most emotional instruments ever, their lower sound resemble what we use to express sadness in speech. Basically, what I'm trying to say is, you as a player are forced to feel what you're playing. Thus is also why you play the violin with Your Heart (2).
So, how does this tie into Satan? It's no secret that our handsome man is incredibly romantic, and to me if he ever wants to express something to us and making sure the message is clearly received, the equally emotional violin is his best bet! The violin allows Satan to play heartwrenching notes that would quickly be felt by the listener.
Lets get technical.
There's still another side of the violin, as there is another side to Satan. The way you stroke your bow matters, the way you angle it so you'll only hit the notes you want. (thankfully if you mess up, the violin is made to still sound graceful😂). Satan too, is quite the detail oriented person. He is tactical, analytical, observant, a man obsessed with striving to be the perfect one, etc etc. The need of preciseness of the violin is definitely right up his alley. The way you need everything to be correct to be rewarded for a beautiful sound. Idk exactly where I'm going with this but it's basically intelligence meets emotion kinda thing, do you see it too?!?!
In conclusion, the violin is a wonderful instrument that both requires great attention to detail yet is also incredibly emotional and heartfelt, an instrument that requires your gut and heart guide your play without abandoning technique. Satan, the incredibly smart yet fluffy softie, is quite literally made for this and I LOVE HIM for that RAAAAAAHHHH. im normal.
THATS IT RLLY im soooo sorry if it's incredibly messy please have a sugarry picture <3 ily
#obey me satan#satan obey me#yes i like omori how did you know#thinking abt me and satan covering duet mghhhnnnhhhh#STAN SATAN OUR MULTI TALENTED KING FOR CLEAR SKIN#rambling a bit#obey me#obey me nightbringer
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Video
And the shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light, and everything you thought you knew will fall apart, but you’ll be all right | Nandor the Relentless + Constellations by The Oh Hellos
the thesis of this video can be boiled down to this: Nandor is, fundamentally, a man who is struggling to cope with the realisation that while he has stayed the same for years, the world around him has been changing without his say so. he clings to what he's always known - for example his image as a relentless warrior - and the boxes he's put people in, without realising that these things don't quite fit him anymore. and when he does start to make an active effort to make a change, despite having every good intention, things rarely work out for him because, often, what he's seeking out in new places, he actually already has. all he needs to do is look around himself and see things in a new light to realise it.
(this vid only uses footage from the first 3 seasons btw, you don’t need to be caught up with the latest eps to watch it)
#what we do in the shadows#wwdits#nandor the relentless#everyone else also features in this but the focus is on nandor#it's about the found family#if the last third especially the audio seems a bit nandermo heavy it's because NONE OF THE OTHER VAMPIRES EVER SAY ANYTHING NICE smh#do you know how much time i spent looking for a clip of any of the others saying anything remotely loving about nandor#i found some nadja in the end but had to give up on laszlo#it's so frustrating I KNOW YOU GUYS LOVE EACH OTHER CAN YOU MAYBE SAY IT OUT LOUD ONCE PLEASE#anyway thank you guillermo for carrying the entire 'nandor actually has a family that loves him and is there for him' section on your back#where would i be without your speeches about family#this video has been (and this is not an exaggeration) six months in the making#i started it at the end of january bc i really wanted to explore nandor's character and then i got SO STUCK#but hey we made it in the end! i'm pretty happy with how this came out 😊#and i think the message i was trying to convey is pretty clear while still leaving room for thought#hope you guys enjoy it!!!#nandor is such a fascinating character i love to analyze him and rotate him in my head#i'm excited to see how his arc continues in the coming seasons. you can do it baby you're so close to realising your family is right there!!#edits.mp4#video.mp4#oh btw i'm still not super happy with the video quality on tumblr so i've also uploaded this to youtube (link in the caption)#eventually i'll also upload everything else there too
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A Valentine’s Surprise
Summary: a member of the inner circle asks you to be their valentine, despite you being mated to someone else
Author’s note: this is pretty short, but I thought it’d be really cute and I love Nyx
“Excuse me, everyone.”
Everyone at the table stops their chatter as Nyx stands on his chair, his little voice unwaivering as he draws the attention of his family consisting of his parents, Cassian, Azriel, Nesta, Mor, and you.
“I have an announcement.”
You all look on in confusion and curiosity, wondering what the young prince would deem so important. He does this about once a week now - interrupting dinner to declare something to everyone. Last week it was to inform everyone that Cassian had farted next to his face, causing Cassian to argue, “it’s not my fault your face is at bum level.”
The night derailed from there, the warlord getting quite worked up over the accusations of a five year old until the two were wrestling on the floor.
Nyx clears his throat, looking to his mother for approval to continue. Feyre gives him a nod of encouragement, mouthing the words “go on” to him. He takes in a deep breath and says, “I’m in love.”
Feyre smiles at him, clearly aware of where his little speech is going. Rhys perks up, amusement in his eyes at Nyx’s confession. The table falls even more silent in curiosity. The princeling looks to you before continuing, “I love you, (y/n). Will you be my valentine?”
You spit out your wine, and Azriel’s hand that was covertly wrapped around your thigh tightens slightly. You grab your napkin, dabbing at the wine you spilled on your dress. You can’t help the smile on your face at how nervous Nyx looks, and you can’t hold back the grin as he winnows a rose into his hand, holding it out to you.
“Nyx, I’m honored that you would ask me.”
You try to figure out how to let the young prince down without telling everyone of your secret mateship with Azriel. The two of you were keeping your mating bond a secret because you didn’t want to deal with the ordeal it would cause and wanted the peace to navigate it. And then you two just kept delaying mentioning it.
Unfortunately for Nyx, the two of you had plans that evening to celebrate the holiday to hide out in a cabin and you wouldn’t want the little heir to ruin them.
“Why do you want me to be your valentine?”
Nyx smiles at you, “because I get all warm and fuzzy inside when I see you.”
Your face crumpled at his sweet words, his love for you showing in his toothy grin, a few teeth missing from his smile. The adorable spectacle makes you miss Cassian grumbling, “why doesn’t anyone ask me to be their valentine?”
“How can I say not to that adorable face?”
Azriel’s grip tightens, and you place your hand on top of his, gently rubbing it. Reminding him that his instincts can calm down over a five year old.
“What does being your valentine entail, sweet Nyx?”
The little boy’s wings flutter at your attention, “we’ll have ice cream!”
“I like ice cream. Is that all?”
He preens under your gaze, looking exactly the way his father does whenever Feyre looks at him affectionately. He leans in conspiratorially, covering his mouth with his hand that does nothing to keep his words from being heard by everyone, before whispering, “you can hold my hand through Velaris.”
“Nyx I wonder if our darling (y/n) has other valentine’s plans.”
Nyx looks to you, heartbreak on his tiny face that the woman he loved would dare see another male. Azriel shoots daggers over your head at his brother, realizing the two of you hadn’t been as secretive as you thought at Rhys’s feline grin. Rhys mocks a toast of his glass towards you two, causing Az’s scowl to deepen.
“Well Nyx, nobody’s asked to take me out for ice cream on Valentine’s day, so I will be more than glad to go with you to get ice cream.”
The little boy beamed the rest of the evening, and as he totted off to bed he was telling his father all about what he was going to wear when you two went out. He even gave you a color scheme so your outfits could coordinate.
You and Azriel retired separately, so as not to raise suspicions. You were brushing your hair at your vanity when his shadows allowed him to emerge in your room, where he immediately began walking towards you.
Meeting your gaze in the mirror, his eyes are full of amusement, thinking about how he has to share the woman he loves, his mate, with a child he could drop kick into the clouds.
“You are stunning, my dear, surely you must have plans for Valentine’s Day?”
He starts kissing your cheek, making his way down your neck, causing you to giggle while you reply, “I have plans with another male for the afternoon on Valentine’s day, but I suppose I could pencil you in while he’s taking his nap.”
#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader#azriel#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#acotar writing#azriel x y/n
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Fantasy Guide to Royal Children - Heirs and Spares
The lives of Princesses and Princes are of interest to most fantasy writers, it's where many of our heroes, side characters and antagonists hail from. But what is there life like? Is it always ballgrowns and servants? Or something more?
A Strict Order of Precedence
The first thing to know about royal children and siblings is that there's a very strict precedence of importance. Is it fair? No. But this is a system, it doesn't have to be fair. The heir comes first without argument. They are the most important child, they are always greeted first, they are the one to stand next to the monarch or their parents at occasions, they literally go first - and this doesn't change with age, if the heir is the youngest, they still have precedence over their siblings. After the heir, order of predence goes by age and the order effects the life of the children. For example, the older sister will marry begore any of her sisters. This order of deference will be so engrained in your character's life that they will believe it the norm and rarely question it, it probably won't spark any in-fighting.
Accommodation & Staff
Royal children are usually raised one of two ways. Either they are raised at court, in the same Palace as their parents or they are raised away from court under the care of trusted servants. Being raised away from their parents isn't a sign of remoteness or dislike or terrible parenting, it was a way of break a child into the constraints of royal life while giving them freedom of scrunity or danger. Usually these children are raised in the countryside for their health, as cities are usually cesspits for disease. Their parents would come to visit them or allow them to visit them at court. Children raised at court are raised with a higher level of scrunity and attention. They will be in the public eye.
Royal children will always be surrounded by staff. There will be nurses to wash and dress them, nannies to discipline and direct them, guards to protect them and usually, a guardian known as a governess to run their household and care for their needs. Staff are not allowed to hit royal children and must obey their commands. Some royal children were very close to their staff:
Kat Ashley and Elizabeth I
Baroness Lehzen and Queen Victoria
Klementy Grigorievich Nagorny and the Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich
Lala Bill and Prince John
However, some royal children faced neglect from their staff. George VI was abused by his nanny, who would pinch him during important occasions, openly favour his elder brother over him and deny him food, which many have been a cause of his speech impediment. After the Russian Revolution, another of the Tsarevich's nannies proved less loyal than the other. Andrei Yeremeyevich Derevenko abandoned his charge, but not before ordering the boy around and insulting him.
Day to Day Life
Royal children would be educated withing their home by tutors. They would usually take lessons all together (the heir may take other lessons). A royal child would recieve an education in languages, arithmetic, geography, etiquette, dancing, music, sports such as riding and literature. Sometimes they would even share lessons with the children of trusted nobles or their cousins. Only the heir will be taught statecraft and how to reign. There is no rhyme nor reason a spare would learn how to rule.
Some royal children are taught the value of their position. Many royal children will be raised strictly to adhere to their social standing and their place in it. Some children may be raised in isolation, kept from mingling and raised to think of themselves as higher than those around them. Some royal families preferred to raise their children as "normal" as possible. The last Romanov children slept in camp beds, with no pillows and we're expected to tidy their own rooms and help the servants. They didn't even use their proper titles, they were called by their names and given a tight monthly allowance to spend. Alexandra of Denmark and her sisters used to make their own clothes. Some royal children could even be encouraged to play with the children of servants and staff as well as nobility (Kolya Derevenko and Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich, Winifred Thomas and Prince John). Companionship was a great honour for noble and common child alike as sometimes, they would be invited to live or be educated alongside by the royal children.
Royal children will not undertake royal duties until they are of age. Younger children be be present for large scale events such as jubilees but would not be expected to partake in any duties themselves. When they are of age, they will usually be granted an annual allowance, be invited to social events, invited to be patrons of charities and participate in royal duties.
Heir Vs Spare
Heirs have more responsibility, all the prestige, more power but they have less freedom, less room to explore their own lives and be expected to always be the epitome of perfect. Heirs will be given responsibilities in government, sitting in on state meetings or undertaking state duties.
Spares have little in the way of real power but have the ability to live less regimental lives and gave more agency in their personal lives. Spares may act as ambassadors to other nations or undertake state visits on behalf of the monarchy or even take positions in the army. Spares are encouraged to find positions to support themselves outside the family, either in a marriage or undertaking some service to the country. Spares who stay in the country, tend to act as unofficial advisers to their sibling when they become monarch.
All Grown Up
When royal children grow up, there are usually certain expectations and limitations.
Heirs will be married quickly, the lineage must be secure. Heirs will usually marry either as part of a political alliance or marry somebody suitable - from a good family, the right background, and able to fit into a certain mould (i.e malleable, amiable and loyal). They will be expected to focus on the country, it's needs and support the monarch at all times. Their social circles will be scruntised, their every move will be noted and remarked upon. Heirs will never gave to worry about funding their lifestyle, the Crown is their job and it supports them.
Spares can marry or remain single if they choose, (but if the monarch instructs them go marry they must). Spares can travel, they can be idle, they can even persue amusements not permitted for the heir. Spares can win glory on the battlefield and mix with all sorts of people. That isn't to say spares are useless, spares often occupy very important spaces in society and government. Spares will usually take these positions not for just status but also for the pay. This is why spares are granted royal titles such as dukedoms (they can make money off the lands, be able to build a dynasty for themselves and their heirs and gain status).
#Fantasy Guide to heirs and Spares#Fantasy Guide to Royal Children#Fantasy Guide#write#writing#writeblr#writing resources#writing reference#writing advice#writers#writing advice writing resources#spilled ink#Writing reference writing resources#Writing resources writing reference#Writing advice writing reference#Writing advice writing resource#Royal children#Writing royal characters#Royalty#Writing royalty#Writing royals
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Part two of this story, where Robin discovers Steve’s type. A lot of people seemed interested in more, so here you go!
The conversation doesn’t go quite the way Robin is expecting it. She’s fully prepared for Steve to launch into saying how confused he is because he’s feeling weird pants feelings for Eddie, but how does that work because he likes girls? She’s been mentally preparing herself for that exact discussion since she watched Eddie Munson call her best friend ‘Big Boy’ in the middle of committing grand theft auto. So when Steve starts talking, curled up on the gross linoleum tile of Family Video, she’s taken by surprise. She doesn’t even get the chance to answer his question before he’s throwing her prepared speech out the metaphorical window.
“That’s stupid, you already told me that. Sharon Parker in the 5th grade, holding hands for Red Rover, blah blah blah, I know that. But like…Have you ever acted different around a girl, and then one day, you realize it’s because you like her? Like, you had a crush on a girl without even realizing it? Does that make any sense?”
It takes Robin a second to reboot, but the second she manages, Steve throws her even further off track.
“It’s just, Tommy H came by the other day, and he said some stuff that really has me thinking and-”
Robin can’t stop herself. As soon as she hears a name other than Eddie Munson, she has a hand out covering Steve’s mouth. He gives her a look, surprised and confused. Maybe a little annoyed. She valiantly ignores him because what he just said has her head spinning, and she needs to put a stop to it right now.
“Steve. My best friend in the whole universe. I’m here for whatever you need and whatever you might be figuring out about yourself. You know I’m going to support you 100% no matter what happens but…Please. PLEASE tell me that you didn’t just discover you have a crush on TOMMY H! He isn’t even your type, Steve! He isn’t even in the ballpark of your type! He’s so far off it’s honestly kind of laughable and-”
Now it’s Steve who puts a hand over her mouth.
“Jesus, Robin! First of all, gross. I’m not into Tommy, okay? Never gonna happen, not in a million years. And second, what the hell do you mean ‘my type?’ What the hell would you know about my type?”
Robin carefully removes his hand from her face and shakes her head. She has absolutely no clue where this conversation is going, but there’s still a chance it can work its way somewhere good. Somewhere Munson-related. And she owes it to Steve to listen to his crisis properly.
“Nevermind, forget that. What happened with Tommy?”
“Okay well, he came over, like I said. He was super wasted, and I guess he and Carol broke up? And he started talking about when we were friends, and how he always used to try and get closer to me. He said he almost asked me if I wanted to practice kissing once? And he talked about like, trying to touch me all the time, trying to make me laugh? Basically saying he had a crush on me, which was super weird.”
Robin nodded, because really, she had no idea what to say to that.
“And then he kissed me. Which was kind of gross because he tasted like whisky and he was being all sloppy, like he wanted to eat my face. But…”
“But?”
“It wasn’t as gross as I would have expected I guess.”
“I thought you said you didn’t like him!”
“I don’t! It just, wasn’t a totally horrible kiss okay? Only a little horrible.”
Robin sighed and let her head tip back against the wall.
“Okay, I’m not seeing your dilemma yet. Tommy liking you and kissing you is kind of weird sure, but it doesn’t change anything about you.”
Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, and he let out a puff of air. He looked small in this bathroom, scared in a way that Robin hated. They had faced down monsters, torture, long shifts with Keith. A conversation with his best friend should never have Steve looking that afraid, ever.
She reached out and took his hand in her, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Hey, it’s okay Steve. Tell me what’s going on in that head.”
“It’s just…Some of what Tommy said. About how he tried to get closer to me, to touch me and make me laugh and shit? I guess I realized that I’m doing that stuff. With somebody else. And if Tommy did it because he liked me then…”
“You think it might mean you like this person. This…guy?”
“Yeah. This guy.”
There it was, the Eddie Munson of it all. Because Robin only knew of one guy that Steve spent his time with and would be trying to be touchy and close with. She had watched it happen with her own eyes, the way Steve would look for reasons to lean past Eddie, to put a hand on his shoulder, his back, once getting brave and putting a hand on his waist. She’d watched Eddie do the exact same things around Steve, too.
Part of her almost just comes out and tells Steve, that she knows who he’s talking about. Except he still looks unsure. He looks like he wants to throw up a little, and Robin has to fix that.
“You know it’s okay right? For you to like this guy?”
“I know. It’s just weird, to realize I might like him that way. Normally I can figure out when I’m into someone.”
“Well, normally you aren’t friends with the people you’re into first. That makes it confusing.”
“And I’m normally into people with boobies.”
“That too.”
Steve lets out a tiny laugh, and it makes Robin beam. Something about Steve is lighter now, like somethings been lifted off his chest, something that’s been there for a really long time without him knowing. She wants to tell him how much she’s loves him. How much she cares about him and supports him. She wants to tell him about all her research, and fully explain to him her findings when it comes to ‘his type.’
She wants to tell him that she knows the guy he likes is Eddie. That she thinks Eddie might like him too.
The ‘ring for service’ bell ruins her chance at saying any of it.
She and Steve both clamber off the floor, adjusting their vests before exiting the bathroom to greet whoever keeps ringing the stupid bell over and over again. Robin can’t decide if it’s the best luck in the world, or the worst, when it’s Eddie Munson himself standing at the counter.
She leans towards best luck when she sees the way Steve’s cheeks go red.
A few people asked to be tagged if I did a part 2, so hopefully I do that right! I’ve got a few more parts planned, so if anybody else wants to be tagged let me know and I’ll do my best!
@kaiscove @wolfstarlights @awkwardgravity1 @anonymousbandgirl @f1ct1onwh0re
#steve harrington#Robin Buckley#Platonic Stobin#Wingman Robin Buckley#Steddie#Eddie Munson#stranger things 4#stranger things#steddie ficlet#stommy#one sided stommy#because I am a Tommy was in love with Steve Truther FIRST and a person never#Steve may have liked him once upon a time but that ship has sailed now
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𓆙 london boy - CORIOLANUS SNOW x f! reader
summary and tw: coryo grovels at your feet, begging for forgiveness after years. pt. 2 of cardigan loveliess!! 18+, smut, mr. snow kinda basically bends u over on ur table?? a/n: uh sorry for making it a lil sad in the beginning but snow prevailss, divider credits : @cafekitsune
taglist: @targaryenmoony 𓆙
He fell down onto the sofa, letting his head sink down against the pillows. Still, after five years, you plagued his thoughts. Tapping his fingers against his thighs, he didn't know what to do.
You hid yourself from him, not wanting to deal with all of the emotions behind his betrayal. You were able to find a quaint job, meeting the line of being able to finance yourself barely. Atleast you had a trust fund from your family, one of the benefits of the Capitol you suppose.
The one time, the one time, you decide to come back without any information on what was happening, you see him. You had heard small bits of Coriolanus' life from Tigris, but refusing for her to tell him she was in contact with you.
He still wore the same pin you gave him for his birthday. You remember his sombre look clearly, eyebrows furrowed and pursed lips. He didn't like being reminded of it, his mind forcing him to realize he had passed yet another year of his.. situation. You had gotten to work, spending days on it. You weren't that good of an artist, but you were able to engrave, "Snow lands on top." Clearly he did.
You really could go anywhere you wanted, but home. But now you had returned. You still considered him home. You thought this over, murmuring to yourself about how everything had changed. Did he still think of Lucy Gray? Did he even feel remorse - or guilt when he thought of you?
A knock at the door makes you jump out of your thoughts. What could it be now? You looked around the place in frustration, your rented apartment for now. You weren't sure how long you were going to stay, just going to meet some family and leave immediately.
You walked up to the door, getting on your tippy toes to look through the peep hole. At first, you saw whitish-blonde hair. Could it be Tigris? She never mentioned anything about visiting today.. You squinted your eyes, did you see the wrong Snow?
"Is anyone home?" You froze, stopping any movement. The click in your heart was pushed. If he couldn't hear your heartbeat, he must've been deaf. You went to sit down on your coach the quietest you could, trying to hide from what was happening. Hopefully, you were just going insane and imagining his voice. You told Tigris not to tell him where you were. You're going to have a lot of things to say to her when he leaves.
You waited a few minutes, only to check again and see that familiar face that you swore to not let yourself get attached to again. Your hand shakingly grasped the doorknob, going to unturn the locks. You couldn't run away forever. You should get it done and over with.
When you opened the door, you weren't sure what you should've expected. Furiosity? Sorrow? Joy?
You were greeted with someone you didn't know, Coriolanus Snow.
You stared at him in sheer surprise, not really knowing what to say. Should you shake his hand? Maybe that's strange considering the.. acquaintance you used to have.
He shuffled his feet, hands in pockets before he nodded towards your apartment. "May I come in?"
"Not like I can say no." You murmured, before fully opening the door. He stepped in, looking around anxiously because of you for the first time in his life.
He took this as his cue to go sit down, his hands pressed. "I want to apologize."
You scoffed, "Well, great. I forgive you." You didn't really want to deal with it anymore, trying to ignore the nagging feeling to listen to him.
"You can't see it? I'm still in love with you, not Lucy Gray. I regret it so much, I couldn't function. I dedicated those speeches all to you! Why the fuck would I care about how the Capitol was affected? I care about you! And now you're here, so please." He suddenly rose up, his desperation fuelling him to beg for you.
"And there's no way you don't want me back." He finally declared, his voice turning a little quiet now.
"And how do I know you won't do it again..?" You tried to forget him, you really did. His eyes never left yours, only a flutter of a blink made him turn his attention away from you.
"I love you, and I've known it for a long time. Since the Academy, I was too stupid to realize it. I let her get in between us, and for that, I'm sorry." He looked at the ground, what if you didn't forgive him?
Without thinking, you rushed to give him a tight embrace. Unabashed, you smelled him, and he still smelled the same. His hands went to wrap around your waist.
You hesistantly went up to kiss him. He eagerly returned the kiss back, but not wanting to scare you away. His lips were intoxicating just as much as you remembered. He broke into a grin, wanting to just bask in your essence.
He managed to murmur between breaths, "More?" His hands moving up to cup your face, tracing along your jawline and down your neck. His fingers trailed lightly over your bare shoulder before stopping at the hem of your dress, teasingly brushing against your exposed thigh.
You mumbled a yes, looking up at him.
He leaned in closer, their bodies pressed against each other intimately as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tentatively exploring your mouth. His hands moved higher up your thighs, reaching for the hem of your skirt.
His hands gripped your waist tightly as he lifted you up onto the nearest table, bodies pressing against each other intimately. The kiss became more aggressive, tongues tangling together in a dance of desire. He broke away for a moment, panting heavily. "C'mon..." he panted, reaching down to finally unfasten your skirt, revealing your lacy black underwear. "You're mine now."
"Tell me you want this," he murmured lowly, his voice husky with desperation.
"I do, Coryo. You know I do."
He hurriedly pulled it off, before slowly taking off his underwear. He took no time to tell you to spit on his hand.
"What..?" You squeaked out.
"Spit." Reluctantly, you spat on his hand.
He slid it over his now hard cock, wanting it to feel easy to slide into you. You let out a loud cry when he let it move through your folds, resting in place for a minute.
His head fell against your shoulder, inside of you but calm.
"You feel okay?" He asked, hot breath against your neck. "Can I move?"
"Mhm."
He moaned, thrusting slowly at first, savoring the feel of your tightness around him. "You're so beautiful, you know that? No, don't look away. Look at me." He grabbed your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.
Coriolanus complied, increasing the pace of his thrusts while maintaining a gentle rhythm. Each powerful stroke sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of them, the moans melding together in harmony. His hands roamed freely over your body, caressing your breasts and pinching her nipples gently. "Tell me you want it... tell me how much you need this," he panted between breaths, his voice hoarse with desire.
"Say my name, love..."
"Coryo!" You moaned his name, intertwining a hand with him.
Coriolanus's fingers dug into your hips, nails scratching lightly as he picked up the pace, his cock pounding into your tight cunt. His orgasm was building rapidly, and he knew it wouldn't be long before you both reached your peak. "Almost... almost..." He groaned out, his voice strained with desire.
"Here it comes," he warned just moments before releasing a hot stream of cum inside her, filling her completely. Panting heavily, he pulled out slowly, letting their juices trickle down her thighs.
He looked at you in pride, almost as if he was proud of the artwork infront of him. He went to cup your face, whispering, "You know I love you, right?"
"Depends, do you know I do?" You grinned at him, teasing him.
"President Snow loves meeee!" You said in a sing-songey voice.
"Well, I'm glad you're aware." He smirked at you softly, before bringing you in for one more kiss.
yk i love a londonn boy - me
#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow x reader smut#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow angst#coriolanus snow fluff#Spotify
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Writing Deaf Characters
I am making this a series now so pls drop requests if there is something you’re curious about!
Disclaimer: This is all based on personal experience and research, all of which relate to the American Deaf experience. It’s not perfect, nor is it representative of a global experience of d/Deafness. If you plan to write a d/Deaf or hard of hearing character, please do your own research! This is intended to give people a few ideas about where to start.
Vocab
Deaf = Refers to the cultural experience of being deaf and immersed in Deaf communities.
deaf = Inability to hear some or all sound.
Profoundly deaf = Inability to hear almost all or all sound.
d/Deafblind = Inability to hear some or all sound and as well as having some level (usually high) of visual impairment.
Hard of hearing or HOH = A person whose inability to hear may not rise to the level of deafness or profound deafness, or simply may not identify with the term.
Deaf of deaf = A Deaf child born to Deaf parents.
CODA = Child Of Deaf Adults. This refers to hearing children, not d/Deaf children.
Manualism = Refers to the belief that d/Deaf children should be taught only sign language and should not be taught or expected to learn to speak.
Oralism = Refers to the belief that d/Deaf children should be taught only to speak and should be discouraged from learning or using sign language.
Bilingual-bicultural or bi-bi education = A school of thought that combines oral and manual education for d/Deaf children.
Mainstreaming = The belief that d/Deaf children should be educated in the same schools and classrooms as hearing students. (More widely refers to the belief that disabled students in general should be educated in the same schools and classrooms as nondisabled students.)
Deaf gain = The Deaf community’s answer to the term “hearing loss.” Rather than losing hearing, a person is said to be gaining Deafness.
Cochlear implant/CI = A medical device implanted into the inner ear which (debatably) produces sensation that is (somewhat) analogous to hearing.
American Sign Language or ASL = An American system of communication consisting of hand shapes, hand movements, body language, facial expressions, and occasionally, vocalizations.
Signed Exact English or SEE = A manner of communicating that directly translates English words into signed equivalents.
Home sign(s) = Signed communication that is specific to the signer’s home or community, which may not exist or be recognized in the wider world.
Identity First Language or IFL = A system in which someone is described first by an identifier that they choose and feel strongly connected to. Examples include describing someone as an Autistic woman, a disabled individual, or a Deaf man.
Key Elements of Deaf History
Can’t emphasize this enough - this is a VERY abbreviated list! It is also not in order. Sorry. That being said:
For a long time in America, Deaf children were not educated, nor was it considered possible to educate them. When this did change, American deaf children were educated in institutions, where they lived full-time. These children were often taken from their families young, and some never regained contact with their families. Some died and were buried at these institutions, all without their families’ knowledge.
In the early 20th century, oralism became popular among American deaf schools. This mode of teaching required lip reading and speech, no matter how difficult this was for students, and punished those who used or attempted to use sign language. Pure oralism is now widely considered inappropriate, outdated, and offensive.
Hopefully you’ve gleaned this from the above points, but d/Deaf schooling, education, and the hearing world’s involvement are a very sensitive subject. Proceed with caution. It’s unlikely your d/Deaf character would have a neutral relationship with schooling.
Helen Keller is probably the most famous deafblind person in America. In her time, she was also known for being a socio-political activist, a socialist, and a vaudeville actress. There are dozens of other famous d/Deaf people who are a quick Google search away. Give your Deaf character Deaf heroes, please.
The Americans with Disabilities Act, or ADA, was passed in 1991, and represented a landmark victory for disabled activists in America. Among its provisions were closed captioning for Deaf individuals, ASL interpreters for public services, and the right for d/Deaf children to attend accessible, accommodating public schools. The ADA is a HUGE deal. It’s also not perfect.
In 1961, cochlear implants were invented. I was going to write more about cochlear implants here, but it’s too long. New section.
Cochlear Implants
Massively massively massively controversial in the Deaf community. Always have been, potentially always will be. For people who strongly identify with Deafness and the Deaf community, CIs are an attack on their identity, their personhood, and their community’s right to exist.
Do not allow people to “hear.” The input that a person receives from CI can, with physical therapy, training, and time, be understood and processed in a similar way to sound. This does not mean it would be recognizable to a hearing person as sound. It is often described by people who have them as being metallic, buzzy, or robotic. YouTube is a great resource for sound references.
In order for a cochlear implant to be effective, a personal will have to participate in years of training and therapy to correct process, understand, and interpret the feedback given by the CI. This is not negotiable. Even if your character just lost their hearing in an accident last week, a CI will not allow them to instantaneously regain that hearing. Nothing that currently exists in the real world will do that.
CIs, to be most effective, are almost always implanted when the recipient is very young. This decision is often made by hearing parents. This, again, is massively controversial, as Deaf activists argue that it violates the child’s bodily autonomy and is inherently anti-Deaf.
A cochlear implant, once placed, irreparably destroys any residual hearing that the recipient may have had. This is because it penetrates the inner ear in order to function. This residual hearing cannot be regained, even if the cochlear implant is not used.
Deaf people do choose to get cochlear implants of their own accord. Many d/Deaf people are very happy with their cochlear implants! It is still a highly charged choice in light of the political history surrounding d/Deafness and hearing.
Notes About American Sign Language
ASL is not a signed version of English. It is a distinct language, with its own vocabulary, slang, and grammar. Just a sentence would not be constructed the same way in Russian, Spanish, or Tagalog, a sentence in ASL would not be a direct translation of its English equivalent.
Deaf people have historically lower rates of literacy. This is not due to a lack of intelligence; it is because ASL and English are two different languages. ASL has no written equivalent. In order to be able to read or write, d/Deaf children must learn an entirely different language. This means that it is not realistic to always be able to communicate with d/Deaf people through writing.
As ASL is a visual language, many signs started out as very literal gestures. This means that many older signs are continuously being phased out as they or their roots are recognized as stereotypical or offensive. Please be careful in researching signs. I recommend Handspeak or Signing Savvy for accurate, relatively up-to-date information.
Many online “teachers” do not have credentials to teach ASL, and especially due to the prevalence of “baby sign,” home signs, invented signs, or false information spreads unchecked. If you see multiple different signs advertised for the same English word, please be diligent in checking your sources.
Not every English word has a distinct signed equivalent, and not every sign has an English equivalent.
SEE is almost never used by Deaf people. It’s rarely used and is generally thought of as a “lesser” version of both English and ASL.
ASL is a complete, complex, nuanced language. A character would not switch into SEE for a technical conversation or really any reason. Complex ideas, technical terms, and even poetry can all be expressed in American Sign Language.
Just like in English, there are some signs that are only considered appropriate for certain people to use. For example, the sign for “Black” when referring to a Black person has a modified version that is only used by Black signers. This does not mean it is a slur or the equivalent of a slur. It is a sign reserved for Black signers referring to other Black people.
Things to Consider/Avoid/Be Aware Of
I hesitate to tell anyone to avoid anything, because I don’t think I have that authority. That being said:
The Deaf community has a complicated history and relationship with cochlear implants and the concept of being “cured.” What message are you sending when you write a story in which a d/Deaf character is “cured” of their d/Deafness?
Generally speaking, d/Deaf people do not identify with the “disabled” label. Each person has their own preferences, and those preferences should always be respected. Your character(s) may choose differently than their real life community, but you should put thought into why that is.
Generally speaking, d/Deaf people use IFL. This means that a majority of d/Deaf people in America would describe themselves as d/Deaf people, rather than people with deafness, people with hearing loss, people that are hard of hearing, etc.
Okay I lied I’m going to tell you what to do here: Do not use words like mute, deaf-mute, or dumb when describing d/Deaf people. Hearing impaired is also not ideal but is considered outdated, rather than outright offensive.
The best lip readers are judged to be able to catch 30% of the words people say. How realistic is it to have a character that relies 100% on lipreading? What do you gain when you write a character that lipreads, and what do you lose?
Yes, Deaf people can drive. I don’t know why so many people wonder about this. It’s okay if you didn’t know, but please don’t come into my ask box about it.
Assistive Devices/Aids
Cochlear implants ^ see above
Interpreters. Will have gone to school for years, might have specific training for certain environments or technical terms, etc. For instance, an interpreter that works with Deaf people that have mental illnesses would be fully fluent in ASL as well as having requisite mental health training in order to interpret for them. Interpreters could be a whole other post actually, but I won’t tackle that now.
Closed captions. Self-explanatory.
Alarm clocks, fire alarms, and doorbells that use light instead of sound. This is sometimes a typical flashing light, but particularly fire alarms in predominantly d/Deaf spaces can be overwhelmingly bright. Bright like you’ve never seen before. Bright enough to wake someone from a dead sleep.
Some assistive devices also use sensation - alarms that actually shake bedframes exist and are the best choice for some people!
Service dogs - can alert people to sounds like the above - fire alarms, doorbells, knocking, etc.
Hearing aids. Generally not controversial in the way that CIs are. Only effective if people have residual hearing. Do not really expand the range of sounds people can hear, just amplify sounds in that range. Very, very expensive.
Microphones. If a d/Deaf or HOH person is in a crowd/lecture setting, the speaker will want to use a microphone. If this is a frequent occurrence, the microphone may be linked to a small personal speaker or earbud used by the d/Deaf or HOH person.
TTY: Much less frequent now that everyone can text and email, but stands for Text Telephone Device and was/is a way to send written communication over a telephone line. The message is sent, the phone rings, and a robot voice reads the message. Obviously, this is not effective for d/Deaf people communicating with other d/Deaf people, but it was often used to communicate with hearing people/hearing establishments, as when setting up appointments.
Media About/Including Deafness
No media is perfect and unproblematic, but here are somethings I have seen that I can verify do at least a pretty good job -
CODA is a movie that features Deaf actors, ASL, and a story about growing up, family, and independence vs. interdependence.
The Sound of Metal is a movie that features ASL and a story about identity, recovery, and hearing loss/Deaf gain.
A Quiet Place is a movie features ASL and Deaf actors, although Deafness itself is not necessarily integral to the story.
BUG: Deaf Identity and Internal Revolution by Christopher Heuer is a collection of essays by a Deaf man that discuss a wide range of topics. This book is not always up to modern standards of political correctness.
Train Go Sorry by Leah Hager Cohen is a memoir by the granddaughter of a Deaf man, which discusses the intersections of the hearing and Deaf worlds.
Far From the Tree by Andrew Solomon is a research book about the effect of horizontal identity on parent/child relationships and features a chapter on d/Deafness. This is a good look at how d/Deafness can impact familial relationships. Some aspects of the book are outdated, and it was written by a hearing author, albeit one who extensively interviewed Deaf and hearing parents of Deaf children.
If you made it this far, congratulations! Thank you so much for taking the time to read through my lil/not so lil primer :) If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or feedback, please feel free to hit me up! If you have any requests for a diagnosis or a disability you’d like me to write about next, I’d love to hear it. Happy writing!
#writing disabled characters#writing disability#writing advice#longpost#deafness#deaf characters#writing deaf characters#disability writing guide#hard of hearing#hard of hearing characters
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CLINGY ─ NETEYAM ⊹ ִֶָ
contents. fem!reader, established relationship, intoxication, fluff, a bit of humor
notes. i am obsessed with avatar fics where they get drunk, it's so funny👹👹
"bro!" at the sudden call, followed by rushing footsteps towards the entrance of his family tent, neteyam looked up with confused, yet worried eyes. "bro-" once again, lo'ak called out, this time almost out of breath, as he hunched over with the palms of his hands resting on his knees. "what's wrong?" quickly making his way towards his brother, neteyam quiried. "it's y/n." lo'ak explained, finally managing to catch his breath. neteyam's heart dropped - stomach swirling with anxiety.
usually this time of the day, in the late afternoon the two of you'd be together - both of your duties done, as you'd bask in the comforting presence of each other. but it seemed today prepared different plans for you and neteyam. his parents were away for the afternoon - busy with their own responsibilities, meaning the sully siblings were left alone. for a while, they all managed to stay together and safe inside their tent, but it didn't last long. lo'ak and kiri soon sneaked away, while neteyam stayed watching over his youngest sister, before trouble seemed to come.
"y/n? is she okay?" placing both of his hands on lo'ak's shoulders and slightly shaking him, neteyam hurriedly questioned. "she is okay, but also no?" lo'ak attempted to explain, tilting his head to the side with furrowed brows. neteyam suppressed a groan, as he took tuk by her hand, quickly explaining they'll go and give you a visit, before speed-walking towards your tent.
tuk almost tripped, due to neteyam practically dragging her. glancing over his shoulder, neteyam worried expression softened, as he apologized to his younger sister. it didn't take long, before all three of them were standing in front of your tent. neteyam let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, as he entered and was met with a confusing sight - you sitting on the floor, pressing the side of your face into kiri's shoulder, as she kneeled next to you. every once in a while, she'd hum in response upon your muttering.
"finally." kiri let out a groan, slightly pushing your head off her shoulder, which caused you to open your heavy eyes. "look who's here." kiri announced, as your eyes widened. "neteyam!" you called out excitedly, throwing your hands in the air. even a blind person could notice something was off about you - there was a loopy grin plastered across your face and your movements were sloppy, yet eager.
"what... happened?" tilting his head to the side, neteyam once again asked, as he made his way closer to you. kiri and lo'ak exchanged a unreadable look, before glancing at the empty bottle next to you. "we wanted to ask y/n to join us to go in the forest, but when we found her..." lo'ak begun to explain, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "she drank an entire bottle of one of her parents' drinks." kiri finished her brother's sentence, causing neteyam to shut his eyes close.
your parents were known for their famous liquor made from fruits growing inside the pandora's forest. adults would drink it on occasions such as celebrations and all the children were curious about it, yet never dared to try it. the liquor - consumed in a certain portion could cause one to tumble, when they attempted to walk, often slur their speech and sometimes make them cheery without a reason.
earlier in the morning, your parents have left, leaving you all alone inside your tent with numerous bottles of the said liquor. your parents were in such a hurry, they forgot to hide the bottles away as they'd usually do due to your curiosity and often careless behaviour. bored and curious, you took a sip of the drink. it was sweet, yet it managed to leave an almost burning sensation in the back of your throat. and before you knew it - you drank the entire bottle, as the effects slowly begun.
your head felt dizzy, the room around you seeming to float around, causing you to laugh at the newfound strange feeling. you didn't like the drink itself, even if it was rather sweet, but the way it left you feeling? you silently wished you could stay that way for the rest of your life.
kneeling in front of you, neteyam inspected your face, as you could only grin in response. "where are you guys going?" you cried out with a sad pout, followed by a disappointment groan, when you noticed lo'ak, kiri and tuk slowly sneaking away. neteyam threw pleading eyes at his siblings. "she's your girlfriend." hands in surrender, lo'ak swiftly shook his head from side to side. "good luck, you'll need it." kiri added, grabbing tuk's hand, before they disappeared out of your sight.
neteyam let out a sigh in response, before turning his attention back to you. with your eyes closed, you let your forehead fall against neteyam's chest, before mumbling a few words. "what was that?" caressing your back with his hand, neteyam raised a brow at you. once more, you muttered the same words, but the boy still didn't manage to make them out. he held back another sigh, before slightly leaning back and raising your head to meet his eyes with a gentle hold on your chin.
"i said- i feel funny." eyes still closed, you let out a giggle. "y/n." neteyam scolded you with a disagreeing shake of his head. "what were you thinking?" pushing a loose braid away from your face, he asked, as you carelessly let out another small laugh. "i was bored." you drag the last word out, before letting your head fall onto neteyam's frame once more. sneaking your arms around his waist, you pushed your face even further into his skin, before letting out a long breath.
"are you in any pain?" neteyam asked another question, sneaking a glance at the top of your head, as you mumbled in response. "i'm doing-" you sharply inhaled. "amazing." another chuckle. carefully, neteyam steadied you, before standing up and searching the room for anything that could help him in such situation. relief washed over him, once his eyes fell on a bowl filled with water, as he begun to make his way towards it. yet before he could reach it and hand it to you, the sudden noise coming from behind him startled him.
"y/n!" eyes wide, neteyam rushed over you, as you attempted to reach for another full bottle of the liquid. usually, prying something from your hands would be a harder task, but due to your intoxicated state, neteyam barely had to use his strength. "hey! i wanted that..." you cried out, before dramatically flopping onto the floor, as you let out a huff. "i think you've had enough. now come on- sit." quickly, he went to grab the bowl and with one hand holding it, neteyam used his other one to help you sit up. you furrowed your brows, eyes glancing between the water and neteyam's face.
"you're lucky i like you." you grumbled, before snatching the water out of his hand - almost spilling it in the process. cautiously, neteyam held his hand underneath your mouth and the bowl you were drinking from, in case you managed to spill some more. "i like you too." neteyam added with a small smile. "you do?" you raised an eyebrow at him, as in testing his loyalty to you. but instead of replying, neteyam only chuckled at your dramatic face - which you didn't seem to like. playfully, you pushed his shoulder. "i do, don't worry." he reassured you, causing your expression to soften.
"how about we lay down? huh?" neteyam simply offered, head nodding towards your sleeping mat. "i'm not tired." you admitted in confusion. "we don't have to sleep, we can just lay together. does that sound better?" at his question, you eagerly nodded before you begun making your way towards your bed. instead of standing up, you crawled towards it, as neteyam let out a small breath at the sight.
once you laid down, you sprawled your arms and legs around, breathing in and out heavily. "the room's spinning..." you muttered, staring at the ceiling of your tent. without a word, neteyam laid down next to you and you wasted no time, before throwing yourself at his side - your movements sloppy. head resting against his chest, you tangled your legs together, as you let out a dry chuckle. "now you can't escape." you raised your head up to meet neteyam's eyes, grin plastered across your face. at the sight, neteyam's lips twitched into a grin aswell. "i wasn't planning on it." gently, he caressed the back of your head.
letting out a long sigh, you closed your eyes - desperately attempting to ignore the pounding inside your head. "can you..." you begun, taking a few seconds to try and think about the right words to choose. "...talk about something?" you asked. "i don't like the silence." simply, you added, as you begun tracing the dark marks along neteyam's skin. "what would you like me to talk about?" neteyam offered, placing one of his arms under his head for support, as he glanced towards the ceiling. "anything." your voice was barely above a whisper, yet loud enough for neteyam to catch. "do you remember, when..."
your heart swelled with pure joy, once neteyam begun recalling your shared memories, while gently caressing your hair. eyelids feeling heavy, you couldn't bother to try and keep them open. it didn't take too long, before your heartbeat slowed down, as low breaths escaped your parted lips. neteyam stopped in the middle of a sentence, as he took in your sleeping frame. with a soft smile, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on the top of your head.
it wasn't a suprise you woke up with a pounding headache the next morning, but neteyam's warm touch and assuring words he'd whisper in your ear eased the pain - his presence simply bringing you comfort, as it always did and always will.
#avatar ☆★#anm3mi's works ☆ ★#avatar#neteyam sully#avatar x reader#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam x reader#neteyam#neteyam x you#neteyam sully x you#avatar x you#avatar the way of water#avatar twow#avatar twow x reader#atwow#atwow x reader#atwow neteyam
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“Wanna get married?”
Damian Wayne x Gn!Reader
(They’re about 19)
“WHAT??”
“What…? Why’re you so freaked out?” You and Damian were currently sitting across each other in the living room.
“What do you mean, why am I so freaked out?…explain yourself” his sudden mood changes never ceases to amaze you- something you seriously shouldn’t be thinking while being suspected of by an ex assassin .
“Well… Since we’re tired and bored, I asked if you’d wanna get married-“
“Yea, I understood the first time but why and…in what sense?” He interrupted you, rude
“Ok ok look, just hear me out” he glared at you but then sighed and just nodded.
“Alright” you sat up “so imagine this,me, you, fancy high end restaurant- AND before you say anything!” You shove a finger against Damian’s lips.
“Imagine the food, we can, idk… go in together and I could fake purpose to you for fun” you sat back and studied Damian’s facial expressions .
He let out the deepest sigh you’ve ever heard in your life that you’ve heard from him. Which is to say a lot since sighs from Damian aren’t exactly uncommon.
He leaned back and started thinking “where would you even get a ring-“
“I’ve thought of that” is how you responded and quickly pulled out the best looking ring you have.
“Okayyyy, I don’t know why you have that but, ugh, fine.” He said finally admitting defeat. He got to his feet and held out a hand for you to grab.
Show time.
The two of you decided to head out the the fanciest, high class restaurant damian knows and once the two of you got dressed you had Alfred drive you there.
You’d be lying if you said you and Damian didn’t look absolutely stunning, I mean anyone would be jealous if they saw the two of you, not knowing whether they’d want to be with you or you.
Once you finally stepped out you stayed behind and watched as Damian managed to get a seat despite not having a reservation, maybe all he said was that he was Bruce Wayne’s son.
Well anyway, a waiter led you there and had you two seated in a very public place, nice.
Although it was good for your plan it wasn’t exactly ideal, especially since Damian really hates being the center of attention.
Anyway the both of you ended up eating away without a care of the cost (mostly you) and when you saw it fit you got up, cleared your throat and began your plan.
“Damian Wayne, you and I had been friends for a long time now and we’ve been dating for a good while aswell. I’m aware we are young but our young age doesn’t make my love for you invalid. So I ask this with upmost sincerity-“ you go to kneel and continue your cringe ass over the top speech.
“I wish for you and I to be lovers and even more in the near future so-“ you pull into your pocket and get the ring and open the box “will you make me the happiest person alive and marry me?”
Collective gasps could be heard around the restaurant and even some people pulled out their phones to record- I mean imagine Damian Wayne and y/n l/n getting married of all people???
An event of the century
Well Damian’s shocked face was worth it and although unexpected, his blush certainly wasn’t unwelcomed.
Nice! He was s totally selling it
Anyway he got up abruptly and nodded his head, that wasn’t enough for you though. “What?-“
“YES ILL MARRY YOU” he hastily let you slip the ring on his finger and he called over the waiter to bring your check.
Someone had to have called paparazzi because when you stepped out of the establishment there was flashing lights all around you while you two hurriedly got into the vehicle driven by Alfred.
-
The very next day you were forced to go to the Wayne manor because of how much Damian kept pestering you.
Once you managed to sneak past the news reporters you entered the living room and the whole family was there, everyone had mixed reactions but most of them Thought it was hilarious.
But in all seriousness Bruce said that you’ll have to give an official statement saying it was all a stunt while a video of the news played on the tv talking about you and Damian’s new engagement.
-
The next few days were full of people spreading “Damian x y/n” all over previous haters and people were also mentioning how absurd it was due to your young age.
“Damian’s and y/ns engagement “ was trending all over twitter and any social media platform and although it was fun while it lasted an official statement had to be published eventually. 😔
It was fun calling Damian your “fiancé” when in interviews, but everything must come to an end 😔
#gn reader#male reader#female reader#fanfic#fluff#fanfic fluff#fluff headcanons#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x male reader#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne fluff#damian wayne headcanon#older damian wayne#damian wayne al ghul#damian wayne fanfiction#damian robin#robin damian#damian wayne#damian al ghul#dc fanfic#dc robin#dc comics#dc universe#dc
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the sound of snow
request: coriolanus with a girlfriend (wife in this case) who has hearing damange from the war
word count: 2.2k
content warnings: coriolanus being kinda awful in his speech but it's canon sooo, lucky flickerman trying to make a joke (spoiler: it doesn't land well), i think that's it?
a/n: ok i am not d/Deaf/HoH but i do have friends and former classmates who are, and i've done research before writing this. please correct me if i am wrong about anything. i left some things vague (such as hearing loss level), but overall i think it's decent?
also italics are when there's sign language being used :)
also also i had like three title ideas for this but i feel like they're all so bad but i liked this one the best
-----
Coriolanus had first met you back when you were both still wet behind the ears, unsure of how to navigate life after the Dark Days. His family had taken a direct hit when District 13 was no longer, his family’s fortune plundering into the depth unknown. Your family, however, had to face a different setback: a few rather close bomb blasts had stolen a majority of your hearing.
Coming from an affluent family, you were able to afford a private tutor growing up, teaching you and your family sign language, though as you grew old enough you were fit for a hearing aid in the left ear—the only one with enough hearing left to make it worthwhile.
All the while, you and Coriolanus never turned your backs on each other, choosing to let each other in on your trials and tribulations, knowing secrets were safe between the two of you. He had thus learned sign language from being in your home so often, Tigris and the Grandma’am having picked up on some of the more common phrases.
When you were both of age to begin at the Academy, your father fought tooth and nail with the Dean to ensure you were well-equipped with an interpreter when necessary, though you often went without one as you grew tiresome of the stares from your classmates.
During the 10th Annual Hunger Games, you say alongside Coriolanus as you two watched the tributes battle for victory, both celebrating when Lucy Gray was crowned the victor, both unaware of what fate waited your boyfriend the following day.
His stint in District 12 was something you two rarely spoke on, choosing to forget those few disastrous months while you were separated, you back in the Capitol studying at University while Coriolanus learned the hard way what it meant to be a Peacekeeper, to learn what it feels like to betray a friend, to learn what true power felt like.
Dr. Gaul had spoken to you prior to calling Coriolanus back to the Capitol, wanting your input if he would be a considerable candidate for her Gamemaker Apprenticeship, to which you informed her it was one of the biggest honors he would have wished for. Thus, Coriolanus was recalled back to the Capitol, back to you, where he stood alongside Dr. Gaul to prepare for years of Hunger Games, eventually landing as a true Gamemaker as Dr. Gaul began to take steps back in preparation for her retirement.
One day, however, Coriolanus had told her he was interested in becoming Panem’s next president, with Felix Ravinstill gone and no other heirs of the title, an election would take place. It was no surprise to the Head Gamemaker when the blonde brought the idea up, having seen him yearn and hunger for the coveted presidential position since he was fresh out of the Academy.
It came as no shock when he was announced at the Panem’s next president, you alongside of him as the First Lady. The country never knew what would become of the young couple, stars and revenge in their eyes.
-----
Coriolanus knew where he could find you once he returned from the Citadel, having met with Dr. Gaul for the upcoming 25th Hunger Games. He wanted them to be more of a spectacle than usual, to commemorate the quarter century since the end of the war.
He ignored the Avox who had opened the door to the private wing of the mansion, ignored the Avox who had his usual glass of whiskey waiting on a silver platter.
Opening the door to the greenhouse, Coriolanus’ eyes lit up as he saw you carefully pruning the rose bush planted in memorial of the Grandma’am. “Love?”
You looked up, and Coriolanus smiled when he realized your hearing aid was still in. You usually chose not to wear it while at home, preferring the comfortable silence from time to time.
“How was your day?” He asked, helping you untie the gardening smock you wore to protect the clothing underneath.
“It was fine, uneventful.” You replied, looking at the garden around the two of you. “How was Volumnia?”
Coriolanus was still gobsmacked that Dr. Gaul allowed his wife to call her by her first name, only a select few Capitol citizens were granted that honor, though he was one of them.
“She misses you, asked that you stop by sometime for lunch.” Coriolanus mused, plucking a rose out of the bunch in the vase. “Maybe you can help her come up with some new strategies for The Games, she loved your idea of stocking some food in the middle.”
You felt your cheeks heat up, not expecting the silly idea of arming the tributes with food to be such a hit in the Captiol. Betting had been at an all-time high for the tributes who had been able to get their hands on the stale, tasteless protein bars.
“I’ll see if she’s available on Thursday.” You knew the mad scientist would make room any day to meet with you. She had a soft spot for you, no one was quite sure why.
“You can ask her this evening, since we have that awful gala to start preparing for The Games.”
You looked at your husband, clearly forgetting about the gala. “I forgot that was tonight. I wouldn’t have pruned the roses if I had known.”
Coriolanus, who was cold-hearted and strict in public, simply waved off the nonissue. “You wore gloves, a smock, you look as beautiful as ever.”
You pressed your lips to his, disappearing to the bathroom for a shower prior to getting ready.
-----
Attending Capitol galas and evening events as First Lady of Panem was something you weren’t sure you would ever get used to. Cameras flashing, various news outlets trying to get a snippet of you and Coriolanus talking, microphones in your faces.
Not that they would get anything, as Coriolanus was only going to give hints at his next political plans, life events, anything really, to Lucky Flickerman, who he had become rather close with following his mentorship in the Academy.
“D’you want anything to drink?” Coriolanus asked, lips brushing on the shell of your left ear.
Nodding, you two moved over to the bar for a couple glasses of posca before starting the endless circle of meeting politicians, thanking Capitol elites for their support, and the nagging question of when you two would start a family.
You had eventually been able to break free from the conversation you and Coriolanus were stuck in when Lucky Flickerman himself took the spot in behind the podium, preparing to start the night’s speeches.
Taking your seats, you felt Coriolanus place his arm on the back of your chair, hand brushing up and down the back your right bicep, goosebumps breaking out in the area.
As Lucky began his speech, you moved closer to your husband, whispering in his ear, “I can’t understand what he’s saying.”
Coriolanus looked back at you, noticing the missing hearing aid, eyebrow raised.
“I forgot to put it back in after my shower.”
Without missing a beat, Coriolanus shifted in his seat and began to interpret the speeches for you, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks you two were getting, mainly from newer guests who weren’t used to seeing the president use sign language.
At the conclusion of Lucky’s speech, a Capitol employee scuttled over to the First Couple.
“President Snow, we can have an Avox translate if you’d like.”
Frowning, Coriolanus shook his head. “That’s alright, I can interpret for my wife.”
The employee didn’t seem to expect that response, simply blinking at the couple.
“Is that a problem?” Coriolanus asked, ignoring your hand on his knee.
“N-no, not at all. I just- you’re expected to make a speech tonight, too.” The employee tried to backpedal, not wanting to ruin his career tonight.
You chose this moment to speak up, not wanting Coriolanus to overreact. “It’s fine, Coryo’s quite apt at making sure I know what’s going on. Why don’t you be a dear and get me a glass of wine?”
The employee was quick to leave the conversation, and Coriolanus looked at you. “You’re too kind to them.”
Shrugging, you took the full glass without so much as a glance in the employee’s direction. “Someone has to be.”
Coriolanus let out an airy laugh as he stood up, dusting off some nonexistent crumbs from his burgundy suit. He squeezed your arm before departing from your side, taking his place where Lucky Flickerman had left open, the weatherman-turned-host made sure to give his hand a shake as they exchanged pleasantries.
Giving everyone a moment to settle down, Coriolanus cleared his throat before beginning, shocking nearly everyone in the room as he used both his voice and hands to conduct the speech.
“The Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games are right around the corner, so I thought I would give you all a twist I’m putting into the Reaping ceremony this year, and potentially the following Reapings. Dr. Gaul and I have had numerous discussions about how tributes are elected, and from prior games being rigged, we have initiated a couple updates to the ceremony and process.”
You were curious of the updates Coriolanus was talking about, unaware he was still dipping his toes into Gamemaking.
“Rather than each District’s mayor or elected spokesperson calling the names, we will have someone from the Capitol pull names. It will eliminate the possibility for rigging the tributes. In addition, who really wants to watch groups of children kill each other? With Reaping eligibility starting at age twelve, the Gamemakers and I have decided to increase the number of entries one gets as they age. When they reach the age of eighteen, each possible tribute will be entered into the Reaping six times.”
You weren’t able to hear everyone’s whispers, but you could see them looking at each other, taking in the news.
Coriolanus concluded his speech by introducing Dr. Gaul’s assistant, as the Head Gamemaker had something come up rendering her unable to attend the gala.
When he returned to your side, you looked him up and down. “Some updates, huh? Whose idea were they?”
Coriolanus had a smirk on his face, simply bringing his glass of posca to his lips.
-----
After all of the speeches were finished, some music began to play, letting the now tipsy and drunk Capitol elite take the dancefloor with eager steps.
Lucky Flickerman meandered over to where you and Coriolanus were still seated, discussing what Tigris deserved for her upcoming birthday.
“Not going to share a dance tonight?” He asked, looking between the two of you.
“Oh, Lucky, you should now, we don’t really dance. Only for the most special of occasions.” Coriolanus smiled, twisting the wedding band around his finger.
You wore a matching smile, though your reply wasn’t quite what Lucky expected. “And besides, Lucky, I’m not the best dancer if I can’t hear the music. You should have seen the first time we tried to dance together in the Academy.”
The mustached man opened his mouth like he was going to reply, but nothing came out except for a chuckle.
Coriolanus hid his smile behind the glass of water he had switched to, not able to tolerate the posca and wine like he had before.
It was one of his favorite moments after you two had officially started dating. The Academy had their annual prom, though it tended to be more of a fashion show than dance, as many students arrived in extravagant outfits that were ill-suited for dancing.
You had been in a sparking silver dress, heels a gift from your mother, red-tinted lips dropping when Coriolanus asked you to dance with him.
It had been enough missteps to last a lifetime, but the two of you took it in stride, promising each other to get a proper dance instructor before your first dance at the wedding years later.
“I do hate to break up the fond memory, honey, but we should be heading out.”
Coriolanus downed the rest of his water before standing, lending you his arm as you two bid goodnight to your friends and Coriolanus’ closest colleagues, before disappearing from the gala.
-----
You walked out of the bathroom from taking your makeup off to see Coriolanus sitting on the bed, sheets pulled back for your arrival.
“Who are you thinking will be the Capitol’s representative for the Reaping?” You asked, mind still going back to the Reaping updates.
Coriolanus closed the book he was reading, eyes looking you up and down as you climbed into the bed. “I don’t know yet. Why, do you have anyone in mind?”
You shrugged, pulling the sheets up to your chest, yawn escaping your lips. “No one in particular, but I’m sure I could come up with some names.”
Coriolanus laughed, setting his book on the nightstand next to him. “We can talk about it when you’re not going to fall asleep in mere minutes. Goodnight, love.”
“Mm, ‘night, Coryo.” You whispered, letting Coriolanus’ soft breathing and the distant sounds of sirens lull you to sleep.
-----
a/n: hey was this good should i do more in this universe let me know
#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus x reader#hunger games imagine#hunger games tbosas#hunger games x reader#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow#deaf!reader
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Childhood dreams | Katie McCabe
Pairing: Katie McCabe x Arsenal!Reader
Request: Where reader has just joined arsenal and katie can’t stand her and there’s so much tension - basically just extreme enemies to lovers
Warnings: slight angst, absent father, enemies to lovers.
Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 2.6k
Joining Arsenal had been a dream of yours for a long time, and now that dream was finally coming through. It has always been an amazing club in your eyes, and you were eager to start the season. There were also a couple of familiar faces on the team. Miedema and Pelova, your teammates on the Dutch National team, as well as McCabe. Your dream of playing for Arsenal one day was a shared dream with Katie back when you were just ten years old. You played together in Templeogue United, Katie had been your best friend on the team, you played there together for three years before she left the small club. Sadly, the move caused the two of you to drift apart.
It was a couple years later that you and your mom moved to the Netherlands, your mothers home country. You had been there visiting family many times, but it was the first time you had lived there yourself, though you’ve had a double passport since you were a baby. You enlisted in a club there and quickly made your way up to a professional youth team, where you got drafted for Netherlands Women’s U-17, where you met Viv, and you eventually made it to the Netherlands team together.
You were excited to play with Viv and Victoria in a different setting than the national team, to reconnect with Katie, and of course learn from the other girls on the team. Today was the first training session of the season. You arrived at the training center in your new gear, and greeted the people that were there already. You were warmly welcomed by the team that was there already. You caught up with Viv and Victoria before training started, and introduced yourself to a few other girls.
Jonas walked up onto the field and started the training session off with a speech. “Hello, everyone! I’m so glad that we’re all together again, and excited to see some new faces. Let’s make this another great season together.” Everyone cheered when he finished. After Jonas finished his speech, everyone sat down to change put on their cleats, you decide to take that moment to walk up to Katie. “Hi Katie, how have you been?” To your surprise Katie stands up without any response whatsoever and starts the first warming up drill. You are a bit perplexed at her not even saying hi, but continue putting on your cleats, to join the rest of the team on the field.
The rest of the training goes well. At first you were searching for your place in the team, but you quickly fit it. The only odd thing about the day was that Katie seemed to keep ignoring you but you decided to let it be and see the next day how things would progress.
When you get back home from the first day of training you take a quick shower before calling your mom, like you promised. “Hi honey, how was your first day?” She asks cheerfully. “It was great, mom. I’ve already learned so much and it was only the first training session.” Your mom listens to what you have to say about the training, she has always been very supportive of your career. “And how was seeing Katie again? I know you were looking forward to that.” - “I don’t know, I went to say hi but she just ignored me. I guess she wasn’t as excited to be playing Arsenal together after all these years as I am.” Your mom gave you a small pep talk before saying bye.
The following days of training Katie refuses any kind of interaction with you, going as far as changing teams when you’re on the same team. You decide to give up and just focus on yourself and the team as a whole, from that moment on you act as stone cold her way as she does to you. Which was picked up by the team that usually had warm family vibes all around, instantly. Your first weekend off you visited Viv’s place and had dinner with her and Beth. “So, what’s the deal between you and Katie?” Viv asks. “I honestly have no clue. We played together back in our teen years, we were best friends for a couple years but then grew apart because her and her family moved away. We always dreamt of playing for Arsenal together, so I thought it would be fun playing together again after all these years. She has been ignoring me since the first day of training, so I have just given up on it, you know? I’m just trying to focus on playing with you guys, because joining this club means a lot to me.” You explained as they nodded along.
You report back to the training grounds on monday. Starting with some drills before playing 5v5 games. Everyone was playing to their full potential while also having fun. The occasional foul happened but all in good fun. Since both you and Alessia were the only newcomers to the team this season, the teams were made so that the two of you were always in one of the teams, that way you could build a dynamic with each of your new team members.
A new round started, and you were paired with D’Angelo, Williamson, Walti, and Foord. On the other side of the field, Russo was paired with Zinsberger, McCabe, Little, and Mead. The game was quick paced, and the score soon made it to 1-1. Katie was getting rougher in her plays, in general Katie was a somewhat aggressive player but you hadn’t seen her play this rough in any of the other 5v5 matches. She kept pushing you off the ball and sliding into you. You were annoyed with her antics but tried to focus on getting past her many aggressive tries of ridding you off the ball. Your annoyance kept building as she did not seem to stop pushing and pulling.
You moved the ball forwards once again, but your ankle was met with a hard, late tackle from Katie. Again, fouls happen even in training but overall everyone was a good sport about it, apologizing and helping the other person up. Katie on the other hand just stood up and walked away. That’s when you snapped, you rushed to your feet and gave her a shove. “What the hell is your problem?” Before Katie could answer, Little stepped in between the two of you, even performing her captain duties during training. “That’s it, I’ve had enough of you two. With me now!” You each followed her into the changing rooms. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but whatever it is, it is messing with the team dynamic and I am not having that. So, sit down, talk this out and I do not want to see either one of you back on the field until you can at least treat each other with respect.” She walks out of the room and closes the door behind you without waiting for a response.
You share a look with Katie, she rolls her eyes and sits down on the bench on the right side of the room. You do the same on the opposite side of the room. You sit in silence, both not wanting to start the conversation. Katie, who had never been the one for patience, was the first to speak up, “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” You shake your head in annoyance, “You’ve ignored me since the second I stepped foot on this field, Katie. I have no clue what I did for you to hate me this much, but I sure as hell am not going to apologize after you’ve been pushing me around without any reason.”
“Never said there wasn’t a reason.” Katie spits back. “Oh, please enlighten me on this reasoning, because again, I have no clue what horrible thing I did to you in the, what, fifteen years? That we haven’t spoken to each other.” Raising your voice at Katie took all the energy that you had left out of you, so you leaned back against the cold wall, and sigh deeply.
“You turned your back on Ireland.” Your eyes shot up to Katie’s, “What?” You say in confusion. “We always talked about representing Ireland, you and me, we planned on playing for our country, and you turned your back on our country by choosing to play for the Netherlands.” A frown fell over your face, you didn’t know what you expected her reasoning behind this anger to be but this certainly was not what you were expecting. “Katie, I did not turn my back on Ireland by choosing to come out for the Netherlands. You might have known me back when I was thirteen, but you don’t know my story after that. Especially not the story behind coming out for the Netherlands, because I have worked very hard on keeping that away from the public, so please don’t judge me for things that are beyond your knowledge on my life’s story.”
Katie stayed quiet for a moment, taking in what you said. “You are right, I don’t know about your life’s story, but coming out for the higher ranking team over the one you were born in sounds a lot like turning your back on it.” You shake your head. “It was never about ranking, Katie, and it sure as hell wasn’t an easy decision.” You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. It had been many years since you’ve talked about this subject but you decided that if you wanted whatever is happening here to end, you might as well share the truth. “When I was fifteen my dad abandoned us.” Katies eyes shot up to yours, realizing she has royally messed up with her assumptions.
You avert your eyes to the ground, as you continue. “We stayed in Ireland so I could finish the school year, but after that mom moved us to the Netherlands, so she could be with her family. I guess I hadn’t given much thought to coming out for a country since we moved, you know, with trying to deal with everything. It wasn’t until the recruiters for the Dutch National teams offered me a spot on the U17 team.” Katie was listening to your every word. “I have never struggled more with my identity than that month of my life. Ultimately, I decided to accept their offer, not because they had a higher world ranking but for my mom.” You wipe away the tears you weren’t able to keep in. Katie walks up to you, and hands you a bottle of water, before sitting down next to you. “I am so sorry, y/n. I feel really bad about the way I’ve been acting towards you. I felt betrayed but I shouldn’t have assumed anything, and for that I am truly sorry. I promise to throw my grudge out of the window, because I had no right to one.”
You walk out on the field together again, Kim gets the two of you to the side. “I don’t need to know what happened in there but I need to know that whatever is going on will no longer affect the team.” You assure her that that won’t be a problem and get back to training. The rest of the training is a lot calmer, which you appreciated. Katie even walked up to you after training, “I know you won’t just forget about the way I acted, but do you think we could meet up for a coffee sometime? I know we set off on the wrong foot here, which is completely on me, and I want to fix that.” You decide that you would like to start things over and agree to coffee that same afternoon.
Meeting up at a local cafe at one, the conversations started flowing easily. You caught up on each other’s lives and laughed over shared memories. There was no stopping the conversation as you kept discovering new subjects to elaborate on. Coffee eventually turned into dinner at a different restaurant, and plans for next hangouts were made before you left to go home.
The team noticed major changes over the next couple training sessions. Instead of ignoring and avoiding each other, you were often found together on the field. Intentionally pairing up on drills, so much so that Jonas wanted to put some extra focus on your dynamic, believing it could better the team performance. So, in training you start working together to improve the dynamic, which eventually led to meeting each other on the training fields outside of training, like old times. Together, you worked on creating new strategies and practicing them until your legs gave out.
You started considering Katie as one of your best friends, that instant connection you had as kids, seemed to resurface after the initial bad reconnection. With the training season being in full session, you spend most of your time surrounding Katie. Just like the weekend before, you met up with Katie on the field, Saturday afternoon. You’ve been running around on the field for hours, practicing maneuver after maneuver, your legs were starting to get tired but you did not want to give in yet. Katie offered to play a little one on one to close off the day.
The field was still full of dummies, so you were moving around those, while also being chased by Katie. Katie got a step ahead of you and tried kicking the ball away from your feet, but instead of kicking the ball, she ended up slipping and tripping the both of you. You both fall to the ground, legs tangled, as you roll over each other. Laughing hard when you come to a halt, laying next to each other both on your backs. You stay down for a while, both not being able to stop laughing.
Katie is the first to get up, and reaches out her hand to help you up. She pulls you up with a little too much power, which makes you bump into her. You instantly reach for her hips to stabilize yourself, laughing once again. Though, the laugher dies once you realize just how close your face is to hers, as your noses are almost touching. Katie’s eyes move between your eyes and your lips, searching for any hesitation on your end as she slowly moves closer. When she notices no hesitation, she closes the distance and softly presses her lips on yours. One of her hands moving their way up to cup your cheek. With your hands still resting on her hips you pulled her closer, and deepened the kiss. Both still out of breath from running around the field all day, you have to pull away for air sooner than you wanted to. You lean your forehead against hers as you catch your breath, your smile growing when you make eye contact with Katie. She pecks your lips again before she hugs you tight. “Want to pack up and head to my place?” Katie offers after a moment. “Yeah, I’d love to.”
So, that’s what you did. Together you packed up the cones and dummies, sharing kisses all throughout, making the packing up last longer than it needed to be. Once you felt her lips on yours, you wanted that feeling to last forever. Back at Katie’s place you each take a shower before snuggling up on the couch. You borrowed one of Katie’s soccer shorts and a hoodie, while she was wearing a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt. The movie you were watching turned into background noise as Katie leaned in to kiss you again.
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#katie mccabe#katie mccabe x reader#awfc#arsenal wfc#arsenal women#arsenal wfc x reader#woso#woso x reader#woso imagine#irewnt#nedwnt
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Learning to Live Part 31
summary: Mondays are Javier’s least favorite day. Add in he has a meeting he’s doing as a favor to the Sheriff that he doesn’t want to do, and the day was destined to be shitty. But things take a turn for the better that morning when he gets a text message from his fiancée that reads: Need u bad. Lunch? ;)
rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, Protective Javier Peña, Angry Javier Peña (not at you), Switch Javier Peña (there’s subby Javi as a treat). first smut: masturbation (f), vibrators, accidental voyeurism, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, **BREEDING** (an actual attempt at babymaking). second smut: dry humping, coming in pants, semi-public sex? (it happens in a hospital). in both: dirty talk, praise | discussion of pregnancy, dysfunctional family, insults, yelling, arguing, angst with a happy ending, Javier meets your parents for the first time, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional hurt/comfort, Javier going off)
pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (a nurse with no physical descriptions)
word count: 16k
a/n: The dirty talk in this one makes me 🫠🫠🫠. This chapter is something a lot of people have been waiting for. Thank you to everyone who comments and reblogs! I try to reply to them all, and if I miss any, it’s not on purpose and I’m sorry! The love so many people have for this silly story of mine makes me literally 😭😭😭. So, THANK YOU. We’ve got about nine chapters left after this one (could become more). Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for giving this a look over and ensuring my Spanish is correct. I love you.
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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The New Year started with Javier’s big hands caressing your face as he kissed you, the Times Square ball having dropped on the nearby television in your best friend’s living room, where you were attending a party. He had tasted like cherry and orange jello from the Tequila Sunrise jello shot you convinced him to take with you a minute before midnight and smelled like his spicy cologne; the familiar scent had made you feel warm and safe—it had made you feel at home.
Javier Peña was your home.
He was your always and forever, the sun shining after it rained, a warm, cozy blanket on a cold day, the bright star that guides you through the darkness, and the greatest love you would ever have.
And he belonged to you as you belonged to him.
The New Year started with a kiss—one full of promises for the months ahead and shared hopes and dreams; your lips pressed together and moving in sync, silently proclaiming to the other your insurmountable love and undying devotion. And when it had ended, you wore matching grins, Javi's cheeks tinted in a lovely pink flush, his perfect full lips glistening under the room's lights from saliva while his beautiful chocolate-colored eyes gazed tenderly into yours, and he said, "Happy New Year, Cielito. I know it's gonna be a great fucking year because I have you—my best friend, the love of my life, and in ten days, my wife.”
Monday, January 4, started like any other Monday—the alarm going off and your fiancé hitting the snooze button so he could pull you into his arms and get nine minutes of uninterrupted cuddling in before the incessant beeping went off again. When your time was up, he sometimes, like this morning, grumbled as he moved to turn it off, "Fucking hate Mondays." This was why his coffee mug had Garfield the cat on it with a speech bubble containing the same sentiment, just without the cursing, but let’s be real, if that orange cartoon cat wasn’t censored, he’d absolutely say ‘fuck.’
In December, Javier’s prima (cousin) Alma—his tío’s (uncle’s) daughter and sister to Sebastián—was home from college and introduced you to something the kids had started doing: texting. You found this new form of communication came in handy when you were busy and didn’t have time to talk, like right this second as you stood in a storage room at work an hour into your shift with a bag of saline in your hand, your cell phone in the other sending Javi a message.
Your thumb punched the numbers on the keypad, typing: Need u bad. Lunch? ;)
The phone went back into your scrub pants pocket, and you started grabbing the other supplies you needed from the shelves. Seconds later, ringing sounded, making you sigh and have to juggle what you held into one arm to fish your cell phone out again, seeing he was calling from his office phone. You pressed the accept button, the device going to your ear as you answered in exasperation, “Why do you always call instead of texting back?”
“Because talking is easier than trying to type shit out with the keypad,” Javier replied. “Why do you send messages when you know I’m just going to call you?”
“My naive hope that you’ll get I’m too busy to talk.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll make it quick—is this a regular lunch quickie, or is it finally time…?” He sounded hopeful.
“With how I’m feeling a little crampy and insanely horny this morning, I’m pretty sure it’s time—like, the horniness is bad enough there’s no way I can wait until work is over.”
There was noticeable excitement in his voice. “Apartment or truck?”
As tempting as the truck was, you weren’t in the mood for the risk.
“Home.”
“Got it, and why is there extra punctuation after the question? Is it code or something? Should I know what it means?”
“Turn the phone sideways, and it looks like a winking face—I was trying to be flirty and cute with my request for dick.”
“Huh, I guess it does kinda look like a face…”
“I have to get back to work, babe. We’re meeting at home on lunch for you to fuck my brains out, got it?”
“Yes, Cielito—home on lunch to fuck a baby into you.”
“Perfect. Love you, bye.”
“Love you, too. Bye, mi amor (my love).”
The device was put away, and you double-checked you got everything you needed for the new patient who’d just been brought to your department to recover from surgery. While in the patient’s room setting up their IV, you felt your pocket vibrate. After ensuring your new occupant was comfortable and not in need of anything, you left the room, looking at your phone as you walked down the hall and finding you had an unread text from Javi that you opened:
I love you and im excited for lunch ;)
It made you smile, and you replied back: Love u too. cant wait to see u <3
A few minutes after getting back to work, you felt the vibration of another message from him that ended up containing a question: What does <3 mean?
Robyn got a rushed 'See you in an hour' as you left for lunch in a hurry.
You didn't have road rage—it was more road annoyance when people were driving below the speed limit, didn't go as soon as the light turned green, or cut you off like that asshole who worked over at the hardware store did; what was his name? Jimmy? Jerry? Terry? It didn’t matter; he got a raised middle finger. When you pulled into your parking space at the apartment complex, Javi's spot beside yours was empty, and you booked it inside, kicking off your shoes once you got through the door, throwing your purse onto the console table in the entryway, along with your keys.
The thought of leaving the front door unlocked for Javi was squashed almost immediately with the reminder of him telling you always to keep it locked when he wasn't home—so you locked it, the deadbolt turning with a click.
When you told him you were insanely horny, it wasn’t an exaggeration—the horniness had your heartbeat pulsating in your cunt and made the scrubs you were wearing feel stifling over your heated skin, needing them off as soon as possible; your mind was consumed with all of the dirty things Javi could do to ease the ache between your legs—his thick fingers pushing into you and crooking them to hit that one spot only he could reach; his hips pounding into you from behind while rubbing your clit just right to make you come around him; his talented tongue and mouth working you over, licking and sucking on your wet heat with the finesse of a man devouring his first meal in weeks; his cock fucking into you nice and slow, feeling the stretch you couldn’t replicate with your fingers or a toy.
All those thoughts had you wanting Javier with every fiber of your being, and each passing second he wasn’t there was driving you crazy.
Walking toward the bedroom, you removed your clothes as you went, shimmying out of your pants, pushing down and off your panties, your blue scrub shirt getting tugged over your head next, followed by your white tank top, and finally, upon entering the room, your bra was unsnapped, and gravity took it to the floor, leaving behind a trail of garments that’d lead your fiancé to you buck naked and wanting.
You crawled onto the bed Javi had made that morning, the navy blue duvet decorated in golden suns, moons, and bright white stars. The burning ache at the apex of your thighs was begging to be assuaged by any means necessary, and with the absence of the person you wanted more than anything, it was up to you to take off the edge until he arrived.
Pulling open your bedside table drawer, you got out your small bullet vibrator and got comfortable lying down with your head on a pillow and slightly spreading your legs—cold air hit the slick-coated skin on your inner thighs and the lips of your sex, making you shiver. The toy hummed to life with the click of a button, your eyes closing as you slid it along your wet folds, the thrumming igniting sparks of arousal in your belly. You were imagining Javi on top of you, his hips pinning you to the mattress with his dick buried inside you, thrusting deep while his tongue was in your mouth—your jaw went slack, and your spine stiffened when you circled the vibe around your swollen clit, the sharp bolt of pleasure shooting to your core causing you to gasp.
The excitement in your pelvis was growing, moving the waves of vibrations side to side over your sensitive nub, fanning the flames of arousal in your center. You were so turned on your orgasm was building quickly, your nipples tightening, the heat in your abdomen spreading out from your groin, and getting hotter by the second. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and sweat was beginning to bead on your forehead, your thighs shaking as you envisioned Javier fucking you.
“Javi,” you moaned.
“I’m here, baby,” came his deep rasp. Your eyes flew open as you gasped, jolting in surprise.
He was standing at the end of the bed in his charcoal grey suit pants and a white dress shirt gaping at the neck from the three or so buttons he’d undone. His jacket and the red-patterned tie he’d left for work wearing were nowhere to be seen—there was a noticeable bulge at the front of his slacks, his pupils blown wide, his hungry gaze feasting on you spread out in front of him while he rolled up his sleeves to reveal the golden skin of his forearms, the overhead light glinting off of the face of the silver Rolex watch on his wrist you’d gotten him for Christmas.
Seeing him there in the flesh had such a strong spike of arousal cutting through you that you were unable to stop your desperate moan of his name. “I need you,” you whined, lifting the vibrator from yourself and turning it off in preference of having him instead. “I need you to fuck me—right now, Javier.”
His big hand was stroking over his straining length beneath his pants, his eyes locked on your glistening center. He licked his lips like he was imagining what you’d taste like. “You weren’t lying about being insanely horny, Cielito,” he said, not moving his gaze from between your thighs. “Look at how wet you are—how needy your pussy is for me. You want my dick, hermosa (beautiful)? You want my come?”
“Yes,” you answered, nodding your head.
“You can have it, Cielito.” You squeaked in surprise when he grabbed your ankles and roughly pulled you toward him to have your ass at the edge of the mattress. “—in a minute,” he continued and dropped to his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders.
He eagerly dove in, running the flat of his tongue through your slit to gather your wetness with an appreciative hum. It felt so good, your lip was pulled between your teeth, and your fingers curled into his hair, moaning as he lapped at your cunt.
The tip of his beautiful nose rubbed your clit with every drag of his plush mouth along your pussy, causing shocks of electricity to course through your wet core, your eyes rolling back, and the pleasure building inside you. His groans were vibrating against your sensitive skin, his tongue dipping into your opening before moving up to tease your bundle of nerves—flicking at it side to side, over and over again.
Your fists tightened in his hair. “Javi,” you whimpered. “God, it’s so good.”
There was something about someone enthusiastically going down on you that made the act a million times better—your past boyfriends would only do it if you asked, or they felt they had to because you gave them a blow job. But Javier? This man wanted to eat you out. He craved your taste; he loved getting you off with his mouth. You were pretty sure if he could, he’d live with his face shoved in your cunt, and you loved hearing how much he was enjoying himself; his moans making it sound like you were the one pleasuring him.
The horniness and using the vibrator had you so worked up that adding in Javi eating your pussy like it was his favorite meal had you cresting in hardly any time at all—your insides knotting up, winding tighter and tighter until the tension shattered and you came with a gasp of his name, relishing the euphoria that washed over you. His tongue went down to your entrance, licking up every bit of your release he could get, not missing a single drop.
The orgasm was nice, but it was more of an appetizer—it got you into the mood and even more excited for the main course that was getting his cock inside you so you’d finally be relieved of the aching emptiness in your core.
You let go of his hair, your words coming out hoarse, “Can I have your dick now?”
He let your legs fall off his shoulders and rose with a crooked grin, his mustache and the bottom half of his face wet with your juices. He started undoing his belt. “I’m sorry for making you wait,” he said, popping open the button on his slacks and pulling down the zipper. “I wanted to make sure I got you off first.” He shoved the pants and white boxer briefs down his legs, his cock springing free under the hem of his dress shirt.
Sitting up on your elbows, you smiled at him. “A gentleman,” you replied with a wink. “I’ll take it you’re unbelievably excited about possibly getting me pregnant, and you don’t think you’ll be able to last? Which, no shame—it flatters me when you’re so jazzed about fucking me you bust a nut sooner than you wanted.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I’m excited.” He looked down, lifting the bottom of his shirt with one hand and spitting onto the fingers of the other, using them to slick up his throbbing length and making it shine in the lights of the room. “I’m really fucking excited.” He hooked his left arm under your knee and pulled you a little closer as he stepped forward with his dick in his right hand, pumping it a couple of times and pressing the tip to your soaked hole. “I love you,” the last word devolved into a groan as he pushed forward, sliding all the way home inside your cunt until he was balls deep.
The moment he breached your entrance, your mouth fell open at the delicious stretch your tight walls had to make for him to fit; your breaths went ragged, and your fingers clutched the duvet at the fullness. This was what you wanted. This was what you needed, feeling him so deep inside you that you were sure if he went any deeper, he’d nudge your spleen.
Your eyes had closed, and you fell back, the first sound escaping your lips coming out as a trembling whisper of his name. Javi went completely still for some seconds to calm himself down before he got his arms under each of your knees to spread you wide.
His voice was huskier when he spoke. “This what you needed, mi amor?” he asked. “My cock? Need me to fill this perfect pussy with my come? Need me to fuck it so deep I get you pregnant?”
“Yes,” you moaned.
“I’ll make you a mother, Cielito,” he said in a sure tone.
That statement had you clenching around him, Javi hissing. He audibly swallowed.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “It’s fucking embarrassing how close I am.”
You huffed in amusement, your mouth dry and sweat forming on your brow. “You riled yourself up while riling me up—you played yourself.”
“Don’t give me shit.”
Opening your eyes, his broad figure was looming over you with a grumpy look on his perfect face, his dark eyes on yours.
“I’m not giving you shit, Javi,” you said. “I love it—now, hurry up and fuck me, so we’ll be parents in nine months.”
That seemed to kick him into gear, Javi pulling out almost all the way and slamming back in hard enough to push the air from your lungs, setting up a hard, fast pace that had your mouth forming a perfect ‘O.’ He was pounding into you, grunting with each thrust, and stuttering your moans—it was so amazing, arousal was seeping from your cunt and down his shaft, hearing him working his dick in and out of your sopping hole and the harsh slap of his balls against your skin.
Heat was growing at the base of your spine, your thoughts consumed with how good he was fucking you and the fact there was a chance he could knock you up—that alone had you speeding toward another orgasm.
Ever since the first time Javier told you he loved you, his preference in sex positions had changed—before, it was backshots, railing you from behind to the point he had you incoherent and drooling. Now, it was anything face to face for the intimacy and wanting to kiss you, which was so unbelievably sweet.
A newer development that you’d noticed not too long ago was he liked having access to your breasts—he was still an ass man, but there’d been an uptick in titty action, like at this moment with him wrapping your legs around his waist so he could lean down to suck your nipple between his lips while he palmed your other breast, his hips never waning from their brutal onslaught.
His tongue laved at your stiff peak, sucking and licking it and causing lightning to shoot straight to your core, the volume of your moans increasing. The hot pleasure curling in your gut made you move your hands into his hair, your legs squeezed tight around his hips.
His cock was pushing in and out of you, filling you over and over again, his mouth moving to your other nipple to give it the same attention while his fingers pinched and rolled the first—he had your pussy weeping for him, your slick escaping where you were joined, dripping down between your asscheeks as he fucked you into the mattress.
You were almost there. The muscles in your stomach were tensing in preparation for your release.
You wanted to kiss, and he got the message when you pulled his head up by the hair, his lips smashing against yours, holding his weight on his arms beside your head. The kiss was messy, with your tongues tangling and teeth clattering, sharing breaths, his body taking up your vision. You were lost in it all and all of him, Javier becoming the only thing you could think about, the two of you in your own little world, where nothing else mattered except each other.
When you needed air, your mouth blazed a sloppy trail of kisses along his jaw to his neck, his breathing getting shallower and rhythm jerky, knowing he was close—you sucked on the taut skin of his throat hard enough to leave a mark, and it made him whine, the sound going straight to your cunt.
“I’m gonna come inside you,” he said in a breathy rumble, the deep timbre of his voice making your scalp tingle. “I’m gonna—shit—I’m gonna fuck a baby into you.” It was your turn to whine. “I’m gonna fill you up, keep you stuffed until it—fuck—until it takes.” He sounded totally and completely wrecked.
Your words were muffled into his neck, “Y-Yes, Javi—give it to me. Fuck a baby into me.”
“I wanna,” he groaned, “I wanna see you pregnant with my child.” He wasn’t going to last much longer; his strokes were getting sloppier, and he’d hit the point of being so close that he rambled. “I wanna see your body change—your tits get bigger with milk.” His dick twitched hard inside you. “You’ll be so fucking beautiful—fuck—so fucking beautiful carrying my baby.” He was panting. “I love you so much—please don’t leave—please don’t ever leave me.”
You grabbed his cheeks and passionately kissed him, saying into his lips, “I’m never gonna leave you—I love you—I love you,” you repeated with more emphasis. “I’m yours—I’ll always be yours. Put a baby in me, Javi—fuck your come deep.”
That did him in.
His groan was ragged as he broke the kiss to shove his face into your neck—his teeth were bared, his hot breaths fanning against your skin, his pace going frantic.
“Yes, yes, yes,” was gasped from your lips, chanting the word like a prayer. “Come in me,” you practically beg.
His hips bucked into you one last time, pushing his cock in as deep as it could go inside you, feeling it thicken and jerk as he came, gushing inside you with a rumbling moan. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, the pleasurable pain making you gasp, feeling the hot flood of his come painting your insides. His hips were rolling to fuck it deeper, catching you off guard when he suddenly shifted his weight onto one arm to shove his other hand down between your bodies to rub your sensitive clit.
There was a quivering in your belly, a quaking that spread out to make your arms and legs tremble, his fingers circling, stroking, over and over again.
“Come for me,” he murmured against your ear. “Let me have it.”
You hit your tipping point, falling over the edge with an unintelligible cry—the surge of pleasure that bursted from your core had your hips jerking and your pussy spasming around him, Javi’s head falling against your shoulder with a strangled groan of good girl because you were squeezing him like a vice.
Now, this was one of those orgasms that consumed your entire being, taking you apart piece by piece until you were nothing but an incoherent, blissed-out puddle of a person who couldn’t even remember their own name.
A body slumped onto you, welcoming the familiar weight, the only sounds in the room being the hum of the air conditioning and panted breaths of the two inhabitants. It was reflex that had your fingers pressing into his slightly sweat-damp hair and rubbing your fingertips along his scalp—he made a pleased sound in the back of his throat.
Seconds pass, then some minutes, it was Javi who spoke first, grumbling with his face now in the crook of your neck, “I don’t wanna go back to fucking work.”
The reminder that your workday wasn’t over made you whine ‘No’ dramatically.
His hand, not above your head, rubbed along your ribs. “I know, baby—it’s shitty.”
“Why did we think a lunch quickie was a good idea?”
“Was there any thinking…?” he questioned.
“God, you’re so right. We suspected I was ovulating and immediately jumped to ‘We need to fuck right now.’ Zero planning whatsoever. An error was made when we assumed it’d be like our usual sexy lunchtime shenanigans.”
He hummed in agreement. “Was it better than normal for you, too…?”
“Um, yes—apparently, actual babymaking sex is another level of amazing.”
“It really is.” He held up his wrist so you could look at his watch. “How much time do we have?”
“Not enough for you to shower or either of us to eat—we probably should’ve gotten up like five minutes ago.”
“Fuck,” he said. Javi groaned as he pushed himself up to stand, a hiss slipping through his teeth when he pulled himself out of you.
Sitting up on your elbows, his attention was focused on the swollen lips between your thighs, his come starting to dribble from your used hole. You spread your legs a little wider for him to get a better look.
“So fucking pretty,” he mused, his hand moving without a second thought to catch his leaking spend on two fingers and press it back inside you. “Not letting a drop go to waste, mi amor.” His eyes met yours, laying his free hand low on your belly over your womb. He smiled. “A couple of weeks from now, you could be pregnant.”
You shared his happy expression. “We are going to fuck so much that your dick is going to hurt by the end of this week—might even get chafed.”
He grimaced. “Why are you excited about that?”
Reaching, you pressed a palm to his cheek. “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll ice it for you.”
“That doesn’t make it any better…”
“It’s a sacrifice we must make to knock me up.”
He pulled his fingers out. “Sacrifice we have to make? I’m the one making the sacrifice…”
Your eyebrow lifted. “Okay, and what about the sacrifice I have to make with my body growing a tiny human from practically nothing, sharing said body with them for nine months, then having to go through probably the most excruciating pain of my entire life to push them out of my vagina, Javier? Still think you’re the only one making a sacrifice by being uncomfortable for a couple of days after contributing your pleasurable 1% to our group project, that I will be doing 99% of the work on?”
His eyes had rounded, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Right,” he said and cleared his throat. “I’m fine with the dick discomfort—I’m sorry, cariño (sweetheart).” He rubbed your bicep with his clean hand. “Can I get you some water?” He checked his watch. “Fuck it, I’ll go back to the office late. I don’t have a meeting for another half an hour anyway—I’m gonna make you lunch to take to work.” He bent to pull up his underwear and slacks he didn’t bother buttoning up and leaned to give you a quick kiss. “I just need to wash up real fast—I love you. Thank you.” He pecked you on the lips again.
“I love you, too—you don’t have to make me food,” you said as he retreated to the bathroom. “I’m not mad at you.”
“I know you’re not mad,” he replied over his shoulder, “but I’m still making my wife and the future mother of my children food because I love her and appreciate everything she does for me.”
You gasped in pretend shock. “You’re married?!” you exclaimed. “I’m sleeping with a married man?!”
He stopped in the bathroom doorway and turned your way with a look that said he was done with your shit, and it made you grin.
“You will be in seven days,” he replied.
You got up from the mattress on shaky legs, walking toward him.
“Does your wife know that?”
“Cielito?”
“Yes, Javier?”
“I’m fucking you in seven days—mark it on your calendar.”
That made you giggle. “If I scheduled all the times we fuck, there wouldn’t be any empty days on the calendar.”
You were close to him.
“Probably.” He shrugged. “But next Monday is special.”
“Is that so?” you asked, finally in his space and wrapping your arms around his shirt-covered middle. He hugged you back, looking you in the eyes with a smile.
“Yeah,” he answered, “‘cause it’ll be the first time I fuck you as my lawfully wedded wife.”
“Should I expect sex to be different as Mrs. Javier Peña?”
He nodded. “It’ll be better.”
And before the lunch quickie, you’d just had, you would’ve told him that was impossible. However, now, you thought he was right; that as your relationship continued to grow and evolve, so would you both, and it’d affect something like your sex life, hopefully, positively as each year passed. It felt like you won the lottery that this kind, sweet, caring, respectful, incredible man loved you and would no doubt ensure sex with him was nothing less than spectacular.
“Well, Mr. Peña, I’m excited for you to make an honest woman out of me.”
His head moved, hovering his lips over yours, feeling his breath as he spoke in a low husk, “I’m excited to be your husband and share my last name with you, Mrs. Peña—I love you.”
“I love you, too—kiss me,” you whispered.
He nudged his nose against yours. “As you wish, mi amor—I promise to kiss you every day for as long as I live.” He pressed his lips to yours, kissing you tenderly.
Robyn was going to give you so much shit for returning to work late…
Javier didn’t mind Mondays when he was in Colombia.
To be honest, during his first stint trying to get Pablo Escobar, he was working so much his days blended together, and he didn’t know the date until he looked at a calendar in the office or Steve told him. As attaché, Mondays were the start of his week, and if he happened to have Sunday or the whole weekend off, he was still doing work at home and couldn’t wait to get back to the office—Monday mornings were used to plan out and go over his week’s schedule with his staff, the rest of the day he attended required meetings and when he had time, assessing where they were at in their operation and strategizing next steps.
He’d been too consumed with his job to take a break or relax over the weekend. it wasn’t something he would’ve wanted to do anyway because it’d mean he’d be alone with his thoughts, and who’d want that? Thinking about all of the mistakes he’d made, how much he fucked up and let his family down, mulling over how alone and miserable he felt—obsessing about his work meant there wasn’t time to think about those things, so Mondays were always welcome.
His life had changed since then.
Drastically.
Now, he looked forward to the weekend.
It meant a full forty-eight hours he got to spend with the most amazing woman he loved more than anything. It was forty-eight hours full of love, happiness, and contentment. He could actually relax with her, let his guard down, and just be himself.
The weekend was sacred, and he hated waking up on Monday morning, knowing he'd have to be away from his media naranja (soulmate) for at least forty hours over the next five days.
It was safe to say that Javier wasn't the jolliest of people when the alarm clock went off at the start of the week; it was such a common occurrence Cielito often compared him to Garfield, the cat.
He felt he'd done some good work since starting at the Sheriff's office a while back. The narcotics unit, he advised, had managed to do double the busts and arrests than the previous year, the DEA practically frothing at the mouth over the amount of drugs, weapons, and dirty money they’d seized. The agent in charge of their region, who he’d previously butted heads with, had even commended him on their last call. His notoriety was known enough he’d lost count of how many offers he'd gotten to do lectures and the number of agencies in Texas and across the country who had tried to poach him at most or get him to do short-term freelance consulting at minimum.
Basically, there were a lot of people who wanted to pick his brain and/or talk about his time with the DEA.
His, was it, popularity? In the drug enforcement circles and public knowledge of his efforts in Colombia had led to an interesting phenomenon, the Sheriff loved and Javier hated. Philanthropists, sometimes businesses, a lot of the times just individuals, many of whom weren’t even from the area, wanted to donate decent sums of money to the various anti-drug and addiction treatment programs the Sheriff's office and county, in general, ran with the caveat of discussing where their money was going with someone who fought in the War on Drugs.
Him.
Most of the time when he met with these 'philanthropists,' they just wanted to hear stories about Pablo Escobar and the Cali cartel that weren't reported in the mainstream media, or in other words, Javier had to schmooze.
Javier hated schmoozing.
He absolutely fucking hated all the ass kissing he had to do with higher-ups as attaché, and he sure as fuck, didn't like having to do it now with people who had more money than god and a morbid curiosity about two of the biggest, most violent cartels in recent history.
He could decline these meetings if he wanted—Sheriff Arturo told him it was completely his choice if he took them or not. Obviously, his preference would be the latter, but he cared about his community and checked into it to confirm the donations were being used as intended, so he figured it was worth an hour of his time every once in a while.
This morning, he'd been extra annoyed it was Monday because he was scheduled to meet with one of these potential donors who was from Dallas or somewhere else in the state; he wasn't actually paying attention the prior week when Joy, the Sheriff's assistant who also helped out Javier sometimes, was giving him the information due to the fact seconds before she walked into his office he'd gotten a message on his phone from his wi-fiancée that read:
Can I blow u on lunch?
And he’d needed Joy to leave so he could call Cielito to give her an emphatic yes, with the stipulation he could eat her out for his afternoon meal instead of the sandwich she made him. All that’d registered when his, kind of, assistant was talking were the date and time for the meeting he hastily scribbled down on his yellow legal pad.
Since it was the beginning of a new week and having the meeting on his agenda, he didn’t have much hope for it being a good day, and then his phone vibrated with a text message from his soon-to-be wife:
Need u bad. Lunch? ;)
See, in the week after they came home from Miami, they had an in-depth conversation about starting their family—yes, they both had already enthusiastically agreed to try for a baby, but Cielito wanted to manage his expectations and ensure he understood the statistics, risks, and tragic possibilities he didn’t even want to think about, yet needed to be aware of.
That night, he’d gotten out his mother’s rosary for the first time in a while, sat on the edge of the bathtub in the locked bathroom, and had a quiet conversation with her about how happy and ecstatic he was, along with his new fears and worries, making a tearful request for her to please watch over them. He wasn’t religious by any means and didn’t see a point in praying to some all-powerful being that possibly existed and, if so, had more serious matters in the world to attend to, but Javier knew his mom would care if she was listening, and it comforted him, thinking she was, and that she would watch over them.
Another thing his fiancée had done was try and pinpoint when they actually had a chance of conceiving, and that was how he found out she’d begun keeping track of her periods when they started dating, her reasoning:
‘I thought you didn’t want kids, so I made sure I could catch any surprises as quickly as possible to give us time to figure out what we wanted to do, then I found out you’re actually pro-kids and knew the data would come in handy when we decided to go for it, and I was right.”
She was right, she was always right, though, and had marked possible dates their chances were high on the Star Wars-themed wall calendar in the kitchen—January’s picture was a still from the first movie of Darth Vader interrogating Princess Leia in her cell on the Death Star—and Javier had been waiting for the prospective days with almost the same amount of glee as their impending nuptials.
Today was a possibility, and getting her text message and having her confirm over the phone her telling symptoms had him fist pumping with an excited ‘Yes!’ when he hung up.
His day had completely turned around, and he wasn’t even bothered about his afternoon meeting because he was on top of the world and beyond happy about the possibility of becoming a father.
He’d been vibrating with so much excitement he couldn't even focus on his work, and there were some important reports he needed to go over and create; he also had a few files on some recent busts one of the guys on the narcotics team wanted him to look over to see if Javier noticed the same things he did without disclosing what they were—he’d be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued.
Over the months he’d been with the Sheriff’s office, they’d had some leads on how the drugs were crossing the border from Mexico into Laredo, but they all ended up being dead ends. They knew what cartel was supplying; however, they didn’t know the link that was getting them into the US, and it bothered him so fucking much. Every person they caught and interrogated either wouldn’t say anything because they feared what the cartel would do or didn’t know shit, and had the same story that they got a call from an unknown number that gave them a location to pick up what was usually a vehicle with the drugs hidden inside along with their cash payment, and a destination where they needed to take it—generally, random parking lots they’d abandon the cars in. The narcotics team had attempted numerous times to get one of the traffickers to wait for their next call and report the specifics in order to conduct a sting, but once they were arrested, they were never contacted again or, in some cases, mysteriously disappeared; the assumption was they either fled to Mexico, or the sicarios got them.
It also didn't help that the town police department wasn't very forthcoming with their drug arrests and made getting their reports a pain in the ass—apparently, this only became an issue when Javier came on board as a consultant, which told him the person making their life difficult was the Laredo Police Department Chief, who also happened to be Lorraine's uncle.
That fucking family.
Since he'd been too amped to work, the time leading up to the lunch hour was spent going through the catalogs he had delivered to the office he hid in his desk drawer, containing baby stuff—clothes, toys, furniture, and making notes of the things he liked or needed to call Connie about to get her opinion.
The lunchtime quickie that ended up not being very quick was better than he ever could have imagined; it was so fucking fantastic that it easily made his top three Greatest Fucks—the other two were the sex on his birthday last month and the first time they fucked after they confessed their love on the kitchen floor—and it had him itching for the end of the workday to go home, and do it again, and probably again after that. It seemed Cielito wasn’t wrong about the probability of his dick hurting by the end of the week, and after some perspective (her gentle reminder of her sacrifices), it was something he was more than okay with—he was looking forward to it, actually.
He'd made her a cheese quesadilla and cut up some apple slices for her to take back to work and eaten his own before he left the apartment.
Javier had fussed with his clothes and hair to ensure it wasn’t obvious what he’d been doing the past hour and thought he did a pretty good job. He arrived at work ten minutes before his meeting and stopped by Joy’s desk, located outside Sheriff Arturos’s office, to get any messages he may have missed. The Sheriff was standing at his door talking to her in his uniform of a short-sleeved khaki shirt and army green pants, his gold Sheriff star badge gleaming under the overhead lights.
The older man’s dark eyes landed on him as he approached, the expression on his face turning to amusement.
“Parece que tuviste un buen almuerzo (Looks like you had a good lunch),” the Sheriff said.
His eyebrows furrowed. “¿Por qué dices eso (Why do you say that)...?”
Arturo tapped the side of his neck with his finger. “Ella te marcó (She marked you).”
Javier knew the exact spot, his hand instinctively moving to cover it. His attention went to Joy, who looked just as amused as the Sheriff. “How bad is it?” he asked her as he uncovered it.
She peered up at him through her wire-rimmed glasses, examining the spot. “She got you good, but you’ve had worse,” she answered. This was something that had happened many times before. “I can cover it up for your meeting if you want.”
He usually didn’t care about walking around with hickies on his neck—he actually loved that it broadcasted he was with someone. Unfortunately, there were some instances where he needed to look professional, and Joy would help by covering the marks with makeup Cielito had given her.
Checking his watch, the people would be arriving any minute. “There’s no time,” he sighed. “I’ll get my messages after the meeting—thank you!” He started walking to his office down the hall.
He’d made sure his desk didn’t look messy, keeping a legal pad and his pen at the ready, his suit jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and he had some program brochures in case whoever he was meeting with wanted them. He was sitting, absentmindedly thinking about what kind of flowers he’d bring home to his fiancée, leaning towards a bouquet of colorful tulips or there’d been a pink rose and lilies arrangement he saw last week he thought was really pretty, she’d like.
His desk phone rang, and he picked up the receiver, answering, “Peña.”
“Your appointment has arrived, Mr. Peña,” Joy said on the other line. “Are you ready for them?”
“Sure,” he replied. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.” There was a lot he could do instead of regaling people with stories from the worst years of his life.
“We’re on our way.” She hung up, and so did he, Javier standing up from his chair.
Joy appeared at his doorway, holding out her arm to direct the newcomers inside, as she said, “Right this way.”
Three nicely dressed people walked in, two men and a woman, Javier stepped around his desk to shake the first man’s hand—he was much older than Javier, giving him a firm handshake.
“Thank you for meeting with us, Javier,” the man said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes—he had an air about him that he knew he was the richest and most important person in the room; so, snobby. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
“From someone I know?” Javier figured it was an agent at the DEA.
“I believe so,” he answered. “We can talk about that in a minute—this is my wife.” He looked at the woman beside him, and Javier shook her hand. She was probably ten to fifteen years younger than her husband, dressed in clothes and jewelry that had to be worth more than he made in a year—she wasn’t smiling. It was obvious from her expression that she was disappointed in what she was seeing and unimpressed, Javier cringing when her eyes zeroed in on his neck.
This was going to go so well.
Maybe she was expecting someone older who looked more experienced?
“It’s nice to meet you,” Javier said with a polite smile. He let go of her hand. “I didn’t get either of your names?”
The man spoke, “Call us…” he paused. “John,” he finally answered, “and Jane.”
“Okay… John and Jane…?”
“Doe.”
Fake names. “So, you want to be anonymous donors…?”
It had happened before; however, in those instances, they did tell him their names and just requested they be listed as anonymous.
“Precisely—you’re a smart guy, Javier,” John said, with a smile that wasn’t sincere and the comment coming off as condescending, making Javier’s teeth clench.
“Right…”
“Well—” John clapped his hands together once. “—let’s talk business.”
There was still the other man behind them—tall, gangly, balding, probably about John’s age, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a black suit, holding a briefcase—a lawyer if he had to guess, which wasn’t odd when there were large sums of money involved.
“I’ll take it the gentleman accompanying you is your lawyer?” he asked.
“Yes.”
They obviously weren’t going to introduce the guy to Javier, so he walked around them and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Javi,” he said, “and you are?”
“Gerald,” he answered, shaking his hand.
He smiled. “Nice to meet you, Gerald.” Javier moved to close his office door. “Please, have a seat,” he told the room as he made his way to his desk. “Sorry, I only have two chairs, but I can have Joy bring in a third.”
He sat down in his, the couple taking seats in the two chairs in front of his desk.
“That won’t be necessary,” John said, waving away his offer. “Jerry is fine standing.”
Javier looked up at the man in question standing behind them. “Would you like a seat, Gerald?”
“I’m fine,” he answered.
Javier nodded and turned his attention to the people in front of him, who now looked annoyed because they apparently didn’t like politeness. He crossed his arms on his desk and gave them a close-lipped smile.
“So,” he started, “I was told you wanted to meet with me specifically. I’ll just say I don’t normally do these kinds of meetings, but if it helps get funding, I will. How can I help you? Would you like me to go over the programs?”
“We had some questions for you,” John replied.
“Okay.” He nodded. “I’m assuming they’re about my work in Colombia?”
“Some,” he answered.
“What university did you go to?” Jane asked.
“Texas A&M.”
“What degree?”
“Criminal justice with a minor in psychology.”
Her nose scrunched as if she smelled something bad, and John sat up straighter in his seat. “Were you really involved with taking down Pablo Escobar?” he asked.
“I helped—spent seven/eight years going after him with my partner. I wasn’t there when he died, but my partner was.”
“That’s a considerable amount of time to hunt someone. Why weren’t you there in the end?”
“I was on leave here in Laredo visiting my family.” Kind of true. “Bad timing, as you can tell.” He humorlessly chuckled.
“Right… And there was another cartel you were involved in dismantling?”
“The Cali cartel,” he answered. “They took over after Escobar.”
“Sounds like a dangerous job. Do you have to worry about their associates or the criminals you put away coming after you?”
“Not really? Many are dead, and I’ve been out of the DEA for a while, so I think if something were going to happen, it would’ve by now.”
“Your achievements are impressive.” He said it, but he didn’t look impressed. “How old are you?”
“Forty.” He felt like he was being interrogated. “Can I tell you about the county’s programs?”
“Right, right,” John said. “Money. We promise you’ll have a check. We’re just interested in learning more about The Great Javier Peña.”
He frowned. “I wouldn’t say I’m great…”
“We wouldn’t either,” Jane mumbled under her breath, not looking at him.
“That’s something we can agree on,” John said so smoothly that Javier was stunned by the rudeness.
What was with these people? They requested this meeting with him and didn’t seem to like him all that much—he was pretty sure the wife hated his guts, and he had no clue what he’d done or who they were. He didn’t have to put up with this shit, no matter who they thought they were or how much they were going to donate, so he let his mask fall along with all the pleasantries.
“So, I’m doing this as a favor for the Sheriff,” Javier said. “I don’t have to talk to you people, especially with you giving me the impression you don’t even like me. I don’t want to waste your time or mine—let’s cut to the chase; how much money are you donating? And I’ll decide if it’s worth answering any more of your questions.”
His shift in demeanor had the couple looking taken aback at his audacity, like they couldn’t believe he’d speak to them in such a way.
“Is that how you talk to people who want to give you money?” Jane asked.
His eyes went to her. “It’s how I talk to people who clearly don’t like or respect me. if you want this meeting to continue, tell me how much.”
“Okay, Javier,” John said. “Is one hundred thousand enough?”
He kept his face neutral, but Javier was shocked. No one had ever donated that much.
“That’ll work,” he responded. “What do you want to know?”
“Is it true you’d pay and sleep with prostitutes to get information while in Colombia?” Jane asked.
Javier jolted as if she’d slapped him, his eyebrows creasing. “Where’d you hear that? What does that have to do with Webb County or my career?”
“It’s a question of your morals,” she answered. “Did you use women for your own personal gain?”
“One hundred thousand,” John reminded him.
Jesus Christ.
His jaw ticked, his fists clenching. He answered, “Yes.”
“Is it true you were fired from the DEA for helping a paramilitary group that killed civilians?” Jane asked.
“I only helped them get a handful of Escobar’s sicarios and told them no civilians were to be harmed.”
“It’s a yes or no question.”
He icily stared. “Yes.”
This was an interrogation.
“Were you engaged to Lorraine Smith seventeen years ago and left her the night before your wedding?”
How the fuck did they know that?
“She was trying to trap me,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Yes or no.”
“Yes.”
John leaned forward, staring him down. “All those deplorable things—do you actually think you’re good enough to marry our daughter?”
There it was.
Everything finally made sense.
He’d only seen a few pictures of her parents since his fiancée didn’t enjoy going through her family photo album, actively avoiding the reminders of how she’d been neglected and shunned, so he hadn’t recognized them. Now that he knew their true identities, he could see the features Cielito had gotten from each of them—eyes, mouth, chin, nose, that crinkle between her eyebrows when they pulled together—if her mother had smiled just once instead of glowering at him the entire time, he would’ve clocked who they were in ten seconds flat.
These fuckers, he knew they were up to something, and to wait and show up a week before their wedding, was fucking diabolical—obviously, they were going to pull some shit to try and stop him from marrying their daughter. A sick part of Javier wished they knew he could still smell Cielito in his mustache and had some of her dried come on his dick; he was happy the mark on his neck stood out since it showed he was with her recently.
His surprise only lasted a second as it quickly turned into burning hot anger, Javier glaring at them.
“Do I think I’m good enough for your daughter? No, but she thinks I am, and her opinion is the only one that matters,” he answered.
Jane rolled her eyes, and John sat back, crossing his arms.
“It used to be common courtesy to ask the Father for permission to marry his daughter,” the other man said.
Javier leaned back, mirroring John with his arms over his chest. “When they considered their daughters property,” he said. “Your daughter is not your property; she’s a person who can do whatever the fuck she wants without your permission—get out of here with that sexist bullshit.”
Jane scoffed.
John jutted a finger at him. “You’re not good enough for our daughter,” he said. “You’re not cut from the same cloth—she’s Cashmere, and you’re a dirty old rag. She’s better than you—she deserves better than you, and you cannot marry her. We won’t allow it. She needs to marry someone from a family of worth or a man in a profession of notoriety who makes good money, like that great surgeon she dated, Dr. Andrews. He’s made a name for himself and would’ve been a great match for her. If she marries you, people will talk, and we’ll be a laughingstock amongst our peers that our daughter was with someone so beneath her—you’d sully her name and all that we’ve built. So, here’s how this is going to go, Javier,” he spat. “We promised you a check, and you’ll get one for one hundred thousand as we agreed for you to put toward whatever menial program you wish. Then you’ll get a second check for the same amount to call off your wedding and leave our daughter. You will never speak to her again, and if she happens to be pregnant with your child—god help us—you will sever your parental rights and have nothing to do with either of them. Am I understood?”
Javier was so fucking angry he thought he was going to explode.
He figured they’d lay into him about his unworthiness to try and make him second guess being with her. He also thought they’d try threatening him with god only knows what to stop their wedding. Trying to pay him off to keep him from marrying their daughter was unexpected and unbelievably insulting. They were out of their minds thinking money would get him to leave her; they were fucking insane thinking money would get him to leave her and their child.
His ears were ringing, his blood was boiling, feeling hot and so full of rage he was seeing red.
His tone was low and menacing, “Get. The fuck. Out.”
John sighed. “Fine. two hundred fifty thousand.”
“I don’t want your fucking money.”
“Everyone has a price,” Jane said.
He looked at her with narrowed eyes, resting his arms back on the desk. “Some people don’t actually give a fuck about money, Jane. So, no, I don’t have a fucking price. You could offer me one million dollars right this second, and I’d still tell you to fuck off. You people are fucking despicable—does she even know you’re here?”
“Of course not,” John said, giving him a look like that should be obvious. “We’re here on business.”
Javier’s attention went to him. “Your daughter’s happiness is ‘business?’ Wanting to ruin our lives is ‘business?’ Do either of you have hearts, or is it purely hatred keeping you alive? You know what, I don’t fucking care—be honest with me, do you even love her?”
“Yes, of course we love her!” Jane replied. “Why do you think we’re doing this? We love her and want what’s best for her!”
“No, you want what’s best for you.” He pointed at her. “If you actually loved her, you wouldn’t be doing this because you’d care about her happiness and not your family’s image. If you loved her, you’d be happy about our marriage.” His voice rose, “If you fucking loved her, you would treat her as such and respect her life choices! You don’t fucking love her, and you never have all because she wasn’t born with a fucking penis and didn’t follow some stupid fucking career tradition! No, you don’t fucking love her!” He stood from his chair so abruptly that it rolled back to ram into a bookcase.
He took a deep breath, his heart pounding, face hot.
His voice brokered no room for argument, “So, here’s how this is going to go. I won’t tell her about this absolutely fucked up conversation and attempted bribe, and you’re going to get the fuck out of our town without another word. You will not see her before leaving, and you will never show your faces here again. If you do not follow any of these instructions, I will tell her everything, and because I genuinely love your daughter—“ He pressed a hand over his heart. “—and know her, I can tell you that you will never hear from her again, and you won’t ever meet our children. Am I understood?”
After this meeting was finished, he was rushing to Cielito’s work to tell her all that had happened—he wouldn’t keep anything from her, especially this.
“One million,” John tried.
“Stop offering me fucking money!” Javier shouted, slamming his hands onto the desk. “You can’t pay me off!” His volume lowered. “Now, are you gonna go straight home, or do I need to call your daughter, my fiancée, on speakerphone so you can tell her what’s happening?”
John looked over his shoulder at the man behind him. “Jerry, the paperwork.” He snapped his fingers.
Gerald used his knee to prop up the briefcase that he popped open. Grabbing a large manila envelope, he passed it to John, who tossed it onto the wooden surface in front of Javier.
“Sign it,” the older man ordered, pointing at it. “Standard prenup—you get divorced, you take what little you brought with you, and don’t get a single cent of our money; if you won’t be reasonable, then you’ll play by our rules. She knows she must either keep her last name or hyphenate when she marries.” Cielito had never mentioned that and planned to take his last name, which her parents definitely wouldn’t like. “The children she has with you will have hyphenated last names, ours first—which shouldn’t be a problem for you.” That was aggressive and not fucking happening with how adamant his future wife was about getting rid of her maiden name. “—and they’ll have trusts set up for them that they can access at the age of eighteen if they pursue a medical degree, if not, then they’ll have to wait until they’re twenty-five.” How fucking rich were these people? And his kids would go to school for whatever they wanted; his fiancée had told him she could afford it. “—you, Javier, are barred from touching any of the money.”
“I don’t want your fucking money, pal,” Javier rolled his eyes. “Stop acting like it matters to me, and pull your head out of your ass—we don’t give a single fuck about you enough to do any of this asinine bullshit.”
“I’m not done,” John’s words were clipped with irritation, and his face showed it. “And you’ll want to hear the rest.”
“I don’t think I do, but please, buddy, keep up this disappointing attempt to intimidate me. Just remember, I spent years with a target on my back and know what it’s like to be at the end of a loaded gun, so your words aren’t gonna do shit.”
“We expect you to visit during the holidays and act civil; that means smiling in the annual family photo.” Javier snorted at this man being so full of himself to think he could get them to play ‘one big happy family.’ “If you don’t sign, then your children will get nothing, we will write our daughter out of our wills, and she will never get any additional financial support from us outside of the money we put aside for her college education—” She had the same stipulation that unless she went to medical school, she wouldn’t have access to her college fund until she was twenty-five. “—and what her grandparents left her; our son will inherit everything.”
Well, shit.
Javier frowned. This just put him between a rock and a goddamn concrete wall of a hard place.
“I’m sure you want your children to have a head start in life,” John continued, looking smug, “so we advise you sign, right Jerry?”
“It’s a substantial amount of money,” Gerald replied. “It would be in your best interest to sign, and that’s just my unbiased opinion.”
Javier was ready to tell them to take the prenup and shove it up their asses, the problem: he couldn’t make an executive decision on Cielito’s behalf that would lose her inheritance. This was something he needed to discuss with her and figure out if she wanted him to abide by the demands—which he would, for her; he wouldn’t like it, but he’d do anything for her. Now he needed to get these assholes to leave, so he could head to the hospital and talk to her.
“Thank you for your unbiased opinion, Gerald,” Javier said. He looked at the man who’d unfortunately be his father-in-law in a week. “Have you listed all of that in here?” He poked the manila envelope.
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m not gonna sign a legally binding document without having my lawyer look it over—I’m a smart guy, after all. You got a card with your fax number on it, Gerald?”
“Yes,” he answered, pulling one out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and walking around his bosses to hand it to Javier.
“Thanks. I’m going to let my lawyer determine if it really is in my best interest to agree to this, and he’ll be in touch in a couple of days—you probably won’t tell me, but where’d you hear all that shit about me?”
How people in town found out about his history with the informants has been a mystery since he never told anyone. He knew a person could find out about his involvement with Los Pepes from reading an article in a Miami newspaper, and everyone in fucking Laredo was aware of Lorraine.
John looked at him like he was stupid. “Private investigator,” he answered.
“Let me guess, he talked to Lorraine and her family?”
“No comment.”
So, that was a yes.
He sighed. “I’m really fucking curious about where he got the intel on my… relations with the women in Colombia. It had to be someone I worked with—“ He knew it wasn’t Steve. “—or who knew me down there.”
“They contacted us anonymously, so I don’t know.”
It smelled like Stechner, which, now that he was thinking about it, that fucker had been through this area before he arrived unannounced a couple of months ago, working alongside the DEA with what was going on in Mexico. He would’ve loved stirring up trouble by letting it slip about Javier’s relationships with informants.
He nodded once. “Well,” Javier started, “eating a bowl of shattered glass would’ve been more pleasant than this shitshow of a meeting. You folks really know how to make a great first impression,” he said sarcastically. “Now get the fuck out of my office and town.” He gestured toward the door. “You’re not welcome here.”
The couple got up from their chairs.
John checked the time on his Rolex, the gold watch featuring a white dial that easily cost three to four times the amount of the one on Javier’s wrist. “We need to get going anyway,” he said, “I have to be in San Francisco tomorrow for a medical conference, and I can’t miss it since I’m speaking at it—hopefully, I’ll run into Daniel. It’s always nice talking to him.”
Javier’s eyes rolled so hard he thought they might get stuck.
“We’re happy to leave this awful town,” Jane sneered. “One day, she’ll tire of you and realize the mistake she made letting you trap her here. We’ll be there when she finally comes to her senses and returns home to us.”
Javier huffed amusedly. “You’re fucking delusional, lady. You don’t even know her! She loves living here. Especially since it’s so fucking far away from you snobby fuckers.”
The woman raised her nose at him and hmph’d.
“Last chance, Javier,” John said, meeting his eyes. “One million dollars and all you have to do is disappear from her life—you’ve done it before, so do it again, and this time be compensated for it. Someone like you can easily find another woman to love.”
Javier straightened, his hands sitting on his hips, staring daggers at the other man. “I don’t want another woman,” he growled. “You’re not understanding, so let me say it nice and slow, and maybe you’ll get it: I. Love. Your. Daughter. No one else. I will never love anyone else. I love her more than life itself. I would take a bullet for her. I would die for her. I would do anything for her, like signing this fucking document—” He tapped his finger on it. “—that I don’t agree with or want to do 99% of because I love her, and I want her to be happy. She is my entire world, and just the thought of being away from her makes me sick to my stomach. So, unless she tells me to leave, I’m not going anywhere; I am spending the rest of my life with her, and there is no amount of money in the entire fucking universe that could get me to do otherwise.” He took in a big breath and slowly let it out, frowning. “From the way you can’t seem to grasp the love we have and what your daughter means to me, I’m under the impression your marriage is transactional or for appearances only—there was never any love, it was just a way to improve your social standing, or whatever stupid shit you rich people care about, but the fact of the matter is it wasn’t built on love. It’s superficial.” He looked at John. “If you went bankrupt tomorrow, she wouldn’t stay with you.” He pointed at the wife. “There’s no for richer or poorer with you two, and that’s really fucking sad. I pity you.”
The couple were scowling at him. “We don’t need your pity,” the older man said. “You know nothing about our marriage. We’ll be expecting to see the signed papers soon.”
They didn’t wait for him to respond, storming toward the door with Gerald following.
Javier sighed, pressing his fingers to his brow.
He knew eventually he’d have to meet Cielito’s parents. He had thought about what he’d say to them when he did so many times he’d lost count because Javier needed them to know how angry he was with how they’d treated the woman he loved. He needed them to know how they failed her as parents. He needed them to know how much he loved her and that he wouldn’t let them continue hurting her. He finally had his chance, and they’d made him so mad, he couldn’t remember a single fucking thing he said and hoped in his rage he got some of his points across.
They were at a crossroads now. He’d tell her what happened, every detail he could remember, and then it would be up to her—will they cut off complete contact with her family? Or would they have to abide by her parents’ demands? Javier thought he knew which way she’d choose, but money had a way of making people do things they normally wouldn’t, and from the looks of it, there was a lot of money on the line.
He sighed again. Anxiety had his stomach twisting into knots, and he was so fucking worried about what she’d choose that his chest was aching. He’d go along with whatever it was because, in the end, it was her decision, and he’d respect it, even if it was something he didn’t like and, holy shit, did Javier hate the idea of these stuck-up pricks remaining in their lives and having any kind of relationship with their future children.
There was a knock on his office door, and his hand lowered, finding Joy standing in the doorway with worry on her brow. She was a great kid who’d really gotten the hang of the job, which was her first out of college, and she was doing very well—Joy also loved Cielito and hung on her every word when they talked.
“Is everything okay, Javi?” she asked. “I heard yelling.”
“They were my in-laws, and they fucking hate me. I’ve never met them in person; hell, I’ve never even spoken to her dad on the phone, and they flew all the way here to talk to me.”
Her eyes went wide behind her glasses. “It wasn’t to congratulate you on your marriage, was it…?”
He scoffed. “No, they were trying to convince me to call it off.”
“Then why are you still here? Go to the hospital! Don’t worry about your messages.”
“I’m going,” he said, grabbing the large envelope containing the documents and moving toward the door, not even bothering to put on his suit jacket.
“You should know they left this with me.” She held up what looked to be paper as he approached, and he took it, reading what it was.
“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he said in disbelief. “They donated the fucking hundred grand—we didn’t even talk about the programs. How did they know who to write the check out to?” He met her eyes.
“They asked me which one was my favorite.” She shrugged. “Now, go!” She snagged the check back. “I’ll get this to where it belongs, and you go deal with what you need to—tell her hi from me.”
“I will.” He made his way out of the door. “Thank you!” he said, walking as fast as his legs could go.
Once in his truck and on his way, he’d gotten his cell phone out and speed-dialed a number.
Ring.
“Doctor’s Hospital of Laredo. How may I direct your call?”
“Robyn Thompson, post-op.”
“One moment.”
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hi, this is Robyn,” she answered.
“Hey, it’s Javi.”
“Oh, they paged me to answer the phone. Let me go get her.”
“No!” he quickly said. “I need to talk to you.”
Her tone went serious, “What’s goin’ on, Javi?”
“I’m on my way there right now and need to talk to her about something that happened. Would you be okay if I borrowed her for ten, maybe fifteen minutes?”
“Javier,” she whispered, “are you gettin’ cold feet?”
That being her first assumption stung, and it hurt worse because she knew damn well how head over heels he was for her best friend. It looked like even after all these years since his failed wedding, it didn’t matter if he was madly in love with someone and had a great relationship; people were still going to wonder if he would leave his new bride at the altar.
“What? No! Never! Not with her. Her fucking parents came to town and tried to pay me a fuckton of money to call off the wedding and leave her, I told them to fuck off, but they want me to sign a goddamn prenup with a list of demands that I need to talk to her about.”
“Her parents…? Here in Laredo…?”
“Yeah, I was pretty fucking shocked, too, then so fucking angry I can’t remember what I yelled at them.”
“She can take her break early, and I’ll cover.”
“Please don’t say anything to her.”
“Oh, this is all you.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. See you soon.”
“Bye.”
He ended the call.
The radio’s volume was down low, and the air conditioner was turned up high, Javier alone with his thoughts as he figured out how he was going to tell her about what happened—he’d tell her the truth, of course, but he didn’t want to upset her. That was the thing, though; she was going to be upset and royally pissed off.
The patient in room three wanted some apple juice; room five was asking for pain meds, but they had an hour before they could have another dose and hated being told ‘no’ so much they wouldn’t stop hitting their call button as if each press would magically make the minutes go by faster; room one was asleep and in—you checked the time on your watch—the next forty-five minutes, an orderly was coming by to take them for a walk to exercise their new hip.
It had been a busy fucking day, and you felt awful about coming back to work a little late after lunch.
You were heading toward the storage room to get the apple juice and just put your hand on the door handle.
“Hey,” Robyn said as she walked up to you. “What are your rooms needin’?”
“Three, apple juice. Five, pain meds, but we have to wait an hour. One is asleep for now.”
She nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna take care of all that for you while you go on break.”
Your eyebrows furrowed, looking at your watch. “It’s way too early for me to take a break. I’ve got another hour, at least.”
Her smile was small, patting your arm. “You’re gonna wanna go now ‘cause Javi’s waitin’ for you over at the desk.”
Your head whipped in that direction, and sure enough, he was standing there in his charcoal-colored slacks, white dress shirt, and red-patterned tie, staring at you with big brown puppy dog eyes and a little smile—and doing a little awkward wave that was both adorable and weirdly out of character from his usual suaveness.
“Uh, why is he here?” you asked, returning his gesture with a small wave of your own. “I was just with him on lunch...”
She turned her attention to him. “Oh, look at him doin’ a lil wave,” she cooed as if she was fawning over a cute baby, waving back. “Isn’t that just adorably weird and a reason you should talk to him right now?”
“You’re really okay if I take my break?” Your face turned her way.
She met your eyes. “Girl, my two patients are passed out, and the next one isn't arrivin’ for another hour, shoo.” She shooed you away with her hands, and you went.
Javi had stopped waving as you approached him, and once you were close enough, you asked, “Is everything okay? What are you doing here?”
The look on his face wasn’t happy; he was clearly worried, and it made you nervous.
“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
Alarm bells started going off in your head.
“Javier, is your dad okay? Did something happen to him? Or someone else in the family?”
He grabbed your hand, his thumb rubbing on the skin of the back of it. “Pop’s okay, Cielito—everyone in our family is okay. Take me somewhere we can talk, and I’ll explain.”
You chewed on your lip, not wanting to ask the question but needing to in order to prepare yourself. “Does this have something to do with our wedding…?” your voice was quiet.
“Baby, no,” he reassured. “Mi amor, look at me.” You did. “Us, our family, our friends, are all good—something happened at work, and I can’t talk to you on the phone about it or wait until we get home. I’ll tell you once we’re somewhere alone.”
“Okay.” You nodded, interlacing your fingers with his and leading him down the hall. For privacy’s sake, you took him to the closest on-call room, the small space containing a twin-sized bed and a desk.
The door was locked, and you moved further into the room and stopped, turning to face your fiancé.
Your eyes were on his. “What’s going on, babe?” you asked.
He took in a big lungful of air, saying as he exhaled, “Your parents came to my office today.”
What he stated was so absurd you thought you misheard him. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right. It sounded like you said my parents were at your office, like physically, in person at your office, which is just absolute crazyballs because why would they come all the way here and not tell me or visit me…?”
The look on his face was so sad it made your stomach drop to your toes. He slid his hand soothingly along your bicep, up and down, over and over.
His tone was gentle. “You know how we’ve been wondering if they’re up to something?”
“Yes,” you whispered, dreading what he would say.
“They were pretending to like me and support our marriage, so you wouldn’t suspect them of having anything to do with their plan of getting me to leave you the week before our wedding....”
“What are you talking about?”
“They came to my office today to try and pay me a lot of fucking money to disappear from your life.”
Your eyes widened.
“They tried to pay you to leave me…?”
“Yes, and it made me so fucking angry that they’d do such a thing and try to frame it like they were doing it out of love and wanting what was best for you when in reality, it’s what they want—I’m still fucking pissed.” You could tell he was with how upset he was getting as he continued speaking. “I suspected if they were gonna pull some shit, it’d be trying to make me doubt I was good enough for you or threaten me with what? I don’t know, but to try and pay me off? Like our love can be fucking bought? Or to assume money would mean more to me than you?” His eyes were getting watery. “You, my fucking soulmate. I told them no amount of money could get me to leave you. It was so fucked up, and I hate them,” he seethed. “I’m sorry, baby, but I hate your fucking parents, I hate your family, and I lost my cool and yelled at them for not loving you and being so goddamn despicable.”
It took a second for you to process that your parents flew thousands of miles to try and pay Javi to break things off. You knew they didn’t approve of him, but to go so low? It had anger welling up inside you the longer you thought about it, getting madder at how upset they made your sweet, caring, loving fiancé, who you knew absolutely laid into them for trying such a heinous thing.
After your mother’s abrupt change in opinion of him, Javi and you had been suspicious of how out of character it was for her. There was a tiny bit of hope about the size of a grain of sand that she was being sincere with how she called more in the following weeks, wanting to hear about your wedding plans and find out the date. When you thought about it, it wasn’t all that surprising she was just fishing for information to put together her scheme. She never had any intention of helping you when she offered to hire you a wedding planner; it was a ruse to buy her time to figure out how to stop the whole thing, and you threw a wrench in her plotting by getting married so soon.
And this was the final straw.
You’d given your family enough chances, and this time, they went too far—there was no coming back from this. They could never be trusted, and you wouldn’t let them continue treating the man you loved so horribly. This whole thing was confirmation they didn’t love you.
You reached to cradle his smooth cheeks in your hands.
“I’m so sorry, Javi. I’m sorry for what they put you through. I’m sorry for how they treated you. I’m sorry for them, and I’m done. They’ve shown me who they really are, and it’s the nail in the fucking coffin.” Tears didn’t come to your eyes, and you felt no sadness about cutting them out, probably because you’d already spent enough time mourning the loss of a relationship with them and had come to terms with it. “I’ve got you, your dad, your family, Robyn—I don’t need people full of so much hate. I’m done, it’s over. I won’t be answering any of their calls.”
His eyes closed in relief, his breath stuttering on a sob. The emotion was thick when he spoke, “I want that to be true, but there’s more…”
“What do you mean there’s more?”
He looked at you. “Your father gave us an ultimatum—I sign a prenup, and we go along with his terms, or you lose your inheritance; they’ll write you out of their wills, and our kids won’t get any money. They said all you’d have is your college fund and what your grandparents left you.” He held up a large manila envelope. “You can read everything he’ll require us to do, and I’ll sign if that's what you want.”
“Wait, let me guess his terms.”
He looked confused. “What?”
“Did he say I had to keep my maiden name?”
“Yes… or hyphenate it.”
You huffed out a breath. “Typical. God, did he say the shit about our children having my last name first? Which I know you have your dad and mom’s last names, but that’s how it’s ordered: your dad's, then mom’s; it’d be weird if we did mine first.”
“He did…”
“Yeah, I’d prefer our kids just being Peñas. Um, what else? Oh! Was there anything about our babies getting money for medical school?”
“Trusts… They can access at eighteen for medical school, twenty-five if not.”
“Figures.” Your eyes rolled. “Didn’t get access to any of my money until I was twenty-five.”
His free hand caressed your face, his expression still pinched in confusion. “Cielito, what is happening right now? Why aren’t you upset?”
Your eyebrows dipped. “Why would I be upset…? You’re not signing that.” You pointed at the packet. “I don’t want their money. Do you want their money?”
“What? No. I told your father exactly how much I didn’t want his fucking money. I’m not quite getting why you aren’t more upset about no longer speaking to them…”
“Oh! This is probably hard for you to understand because your parents love you unconditionally and are, in general, fantastic people. See, my parents’ love is conditional, which you’re holding proof of, and when you spend the first eighteen years of your life trying to live up to impossible standards for the tiniest scrap of affection, you kinda develop a lot of resentment toward the ones who are supposed to love you no matter what.
“Then there’s the way they think they can dictate my life choices as an adult,” you continued, “and only call me so often to keep tabs on what I’m up to in order to ensure I’m not doing anything that would embarrass them or bring shame to the family name—they’re fucking ridiculous about their traditions and keeping up appearances that their family is perfect.
“So, sure, I love them,” you told him, “but I’ve been tired of their bullshit for a while now and have been clear about my boundaries; plus, they knew they were on thin ice, and Javi, every time I’ve told you I’d choose you over them, I meant it.” You swiped his bangs off his forehead. “Your love is unconditional, and you genuinely love me; what’s better than that? And that’s why I don’t have any issues cutting them out of our lives and don’t care about losing my inheritance.
“You’ve seen firsthand how toxic they are,” you said, “and I won’t have them around us or our children. Our happiness is more important than keeping shitty people in our lives for money, and babe, believe me when I say we don’t need their money.”
His eyes were searching yours. “Are you sure?”
You smiled. “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t—yes, Javier, I’m sure, I’m more than sure. You are what matters to me. You and our future babies are what matter to me.” You took the envelope from his hand and looked around the room, finding the small garbage can over by the door. “Swoosh!” you called out and tossed the documents toward it.
—them landing on the floor beside the trash with a thud.
“There goes my NBA career,” you mumbled.
A surprised sound left you when lips crushed against yours hard, Javi’s big, warm hands holding your face—there was a second delay before you started kissing him back just as fervently with your eyes closed, your fingers threading into the soft, thick strands of his hair, pressing your body into his as close as you could get without crawling into his skin.
His palm slid down your back to grab a handful of your ass, his tongue slipping between your lips to massage your own.
Javier could be an imposing figure with the broadness of his shoulders, his wide chest, and tall stature. He had a way of making you feel delicate and safe when he caged you in his arms, something ancient in the back of your mind repeating, 'Protector, protector, protector...' and purring happily.
He could easily get you to move where he wanted, and he walked you back until your legs hit the side of the bed. In the blink of an eye, he had your spine to the mattress with him on top of you, the kissing getting frantic.
"I love you," his sentence muffled against your mouth. "I love you—I need... I need." He sounded desperate, unable to articulate what he wanted, but if you thought about what he went through that day—the excitement of actually trying for the baby, the rage at meeting your parents, the worry at what you'd choose—he felt a lot of big emotions, and you knew his way of coping when he got overwhelmed was losing himself in another person's body.
He needed you.
His hips were cradled in your thighs, feeling him hardening.
Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Today, however, there were a couple of issues, the big one being that you were at your place of employment, and the second was you didn’t have time—Robyn was already doing you a solid by covering, and it’d be rude to go over your allotted fifteen minutes of break time.
Javi needed you, though, and you wanted to make him feel better.
With a quick glance at your watch, you had seven minutes to work with, a plan quickly forming in your head.
It wasn’t hard to get him to roll you both to have you on top of him, straddling his hips and shoving his arms above his head, where you held them down. Your mouths were fused together, the kiss becoming needy and hungry, your lips slick, and your tongues moving together with practiced familiarity. With a roll of your hips, you ground yourself against his hardened cock, heat zipping through your belly at the broken whine he made, which only encouraged you to keep going, continuing to grind, rubbing your pussy along his thick shaft.
He wanted to touch you, making an attempt to get his hands out of your hold, but you kept them firmly in place. You spoke quietly into his lips, “You gonna be a good boy and let me make you feel good?” He groaned, his entire body shivering under you.
His length was between the lips of your clothed cunt, grinding yourself against it, the friction to your clit causing sparks to dance in your core. "You gonna come for me?" you asked, keeping your voice low and nipping at his bottom lip, kissing him again, rough sounds rumbling from his chest.
Your mouth broke away from his, pressing your foreheads together. "You gonna think about how I still have you inside me?" you murmured, not slowing your movements, sliding your pussy over him repeatedly.
Occasionally, there were voices or the wheels of hospital beds rolling outside the room’s door as people passed by. Inside, where you and Javier were alone, the sounds filling the air were the mattress springs softly squeaking, his breathy moans, and your panted breaths.
"You gonna think about how you might've gotten me pregnant today?" you asked. That got you a groan and him bucking his hips.
"You gonna think about how you’ll fill me again when we get home? How you're gonna keep me all nice and stuffed so I have your baby in nine months?" A desperate sound left him, and he started thrusting up into you while you kept grinding.
"You gonna think about what I'll look like knocked up with your baby? The big belly and swollen tits? You like that my boobs are gonna get bigger, don't you?" You were reveling in his whimpers and moans, knowing you had him. "Have you imagined what I'll look like riding you when I'm pregnant?"
“Yes,” he answered breathlessly. His hands broke free, pawing at your body and zeroing in on your breasts with the enthusiasm of a man who just got home from war. “Get so fucking hard imagining it.” His fingers dug into your waist as he helped you move faster and pressed you harder against him.
“Are you gonna come thinking about it?”
The question made him gasp out, “Yes.”
You knew he was close when his breaths got shaky.
“Come for me, Javi,” you said. “Come on. Let go.”
Your mouth descended on his, the kiss sloppy and more of a mash of lips to quiet his sounds. He suddenly went still and stiffened with a choked whine, feeling his dick under you pulsing as he fell apart, your movements stopping. It was quiet in the room, save for the heavy breaths. Your mouth left his to kiss his chin, then both of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and finally, his forehead. You admired his pretty face with his closed eyes, and his reddened lips turned up in the cutest smile you couldn’t help but kiss.
His breathing started to even out. “How are you feeling?” you asked. Checking your watch to see you still had two minutes remaining.
“Better,” he whispered.
“Good.” The bed complained as you got off of him and it, taking a couple of steps to grab the box of tissues from the desk. “You’ll probably want to clean up the mess in your pants,” you said, setting them on the mattress beside him. “Sorry about that.”
“Liar,” he replied, blinking his eyes open all cat-like and turning his head to look at you.
You smiled. “I mean, it’s very hot, and I’m proud of myself. I wish I could stay longer, but I need to get back to work.” Bending down, you quickly pecked him on the lips before straightening. “Bye.”
You started to walk away, and his arm shot out to grab your hand. “Wait,” he said.
Meeting his gaze, you asked, “Yeah?”
His eyes had gone round, and he was looking at you like you hung the moon or painted the sky with stars; there was so much awe and love in his expression that it stole your breath and made you feel as though you were all that mattered to him, and wasn’t that the truth? It was hard to believe that someone loved you so completely and would do anything for you, knowing that had you said you wanted your inheritance, he would’ve gone along with all the shit that came with it—he would’ve hated it a lot, but Javi still would’ve done it for you because he loved you. He loved you more than any other person or thing on the planet, and when you had kids, he’d love them just as much, and that thrilled you.
You knew what he would say before the words left his mouth.
“I love you,” you said at the same time, and he smiled so big it made his eyes crinkle at the edges.
“What am I gonna say next?” he asked.
“Well, you had a day, and now you’re ridiculously happy about never having to deal with the people I’m related to again; add in that you just came and have all those love chemicals floating around in your body, you’re gonna wax poetic about how much you love me very beautifully and probably in Spanish because you tend to reset to your original programming and speak in your first language when you’re extremely lost in the sauce or come really hard.”
He huffed out an amused breath. “Smartass.”
“But am I right?”
“Yes.”
“Then lay it on me.”
“I don’t want to now—you already know what I was gonna say.”
“Okay, then I’m heading back to work,” you said, calling his bluff.
He frowned and squeezed your hand. “Wait, don’t go yet.”
“What’s up?”
“Te amo (I love you),” he replied. “Te amo tanto (I love you so much).”
“Yo sé y yo también te amo (I know and I love you, too).”
“No, cuando digo que te amo, es una promesa de que solo te amaré a ti por toda la eternidad (No, when I say I love you, it’s a promise that I will only love you for all eternity). Cuando digo que te amo, es una promesa de que sólo tú tendrás mi devoción completa (When I say I love you, it’s a promise that only you have my complete devotion). Cuando digo que te amo, las palabras vienen de lo más profundo de mi alma, donde has llenado la parte que me faltaba (When I say I love you, the words are coming from the depths of my soul where you’ve filled in the missing part of me). Cuando digo que te amo, lo siento en cada célula de mi cuerpo (When I say I love you, I feel it in every cell of my body). Cuando digo que te amo, lo digo en serio: te amo y siempre te amaré hasta el fin de los tiempos (When I say I love you, I mean it: I love you, and I’ll always love you until the end of time). Te amo, Cielito (I love you, Cielito).”
He had your eyes feeling a little misty at what he said and how it was apparent he meant every word.
“God, I love you,” you told him, “and I hate that I can’t articulate how much I love you as poetically as you do—just know I love you as much as you love me, and I’m yours forever, and I mean forever. Let me kiss you, and then I really have to go. I’ll lock the door on my way out so you can clean up.”
“Baby, I don’t need you to say sappy bullshit for me to know how fucking much you love me.” He brought your hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “I feel it in all the things you do for me. Like throwing away the prenup and knowing I was fucked up about everything today and making me cream my pants like an inexperienced teenager getting his dick touched for the first time to make me feel better. I know you love me, and that’s why I’m marrying you next week and am so fucking excited to start a family with you.”
“Oh, Javi,” you gasped. “You creamed your pants like a besotted grown man getting his dick touched by the woman he’s madly in love with—I’m being honest when I say it’s romantic and very hot.”
He chuckled, pulling you closer by the arm, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, hoping he felt it in your kiss, the all-consuming love you had for him.
“You are the woman I’m madly in love with,” he murmured into your mouth.
“And you’re the man, I’m madly in love with,” came your muffled reply.
There were a lot of ways your life could’ve turned out and many paths you could’ve chosen. What you knew for certain was they all would’ve led you to him. Mistakes weren’t mistakes, all of your choices were right, even if they were wrong, and it didn’t matter where you lived in the past or all of the people you’d met over the years; the invisible string tying you together would’ve somehow, some way pulled you to him in that grocery store on that hot summer day because it was the perfect moment in both of your lives to find one another—you were two lost souls who finally found what you’d been missing: each other.
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#pedro pascal#javier peña#Javier Peña/reader#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier pena x reader#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña smut#wheresarizona writes#learning to live series
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Cheeseburgers
Brie Larson x Reader
When you accompany Brie to an award show, your feelings for her are revealed
Note: First Brie fic yay! This is a fluffy little something. I hope y’all enjoy!
Main Masterlist
When the door opens, your breath catches in your throat. Standing in front of you is the most beautiful woman in the world. You know for sure that you’re in love with her.
But she is only your best friend.
“So, what do you think?” Brie asks you. She steps closer to you and spins so you can get a full view of her outfit.
“You are so beautiful,” you tell her. She smiles so wide that her cheeks hurt.
“Thank you, y/n. I’m so glad you’re coming with me tonight.”
Her hair and makeup artists get to work on her again, and she ushers you to get dressed. It isn’t the first event Brie has taken you to, but it is definitely the most dressed-up you have gotten. You wear colors that match her perfectly.
Once you’re both ready to go, you ride in the car with her. Brie talks your head off about the evening that’s coming up. She tells you that she’s most excited about getting a cheeseburger afterward. That makes you chuckle.
“Are you ready?” Brie asks when the car stops.
“Oh, I thought I would be going in a different way,” you reply. She usually goes on the carpet without you.
“I want you to come with me. Please?”
You say yes. As if you could ever say no to her and that precious pouty face she makes when she wants something.
The red carpet is a bit overwhelming, but Brie keeps her hand in yours as long as she can. It feels so natural. You wonder if she feels it, too.
She does her photos and interviews flawlessly, as always. You watch on in awe. Once inside, you settle at your table. You make small talk with the other people. Brie is a natural at captivating everyone. She reunites with some old castmates.
When it comes time for her category, she reaches for your hand under the table.
“You’re going to win,” you whisper to her.
It’s not about the awards, but you know she secretly hopes she will win. When the camera pans to her, she offers a shy smile. The presenters open the envelope and call her name.
“Yes!” You cheer, being the first to stand up. Brie hugs you, and you kiss her cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
She shares a few more hugs on her way to the stage as the applause erupts all throughout the building.
“Thank you,” Brie says, taking the award into her hands. “Wow, I didn’t prepare a speech, but I will wing it.” She continues on to give an amazing speech, not to your surprise. She has always been a natural speaker.
“And thank you to my amazing friends and family. Especially my y/n. I wouldn’t be where I am without you,” she finishes.
The crowd cheers for her again. You can’t help but tear up at how proud of her you are. She takes photos backstage before she comes back to the table.
You greet her with a huge hug. Even bigger than the one before. She hugs you so tight that you can barely breathe.
“I’m so proud of you, Brie,” you tell her again.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice breaking a little.
“Are you alright?” You ask her.
She pulls away from the hug just enough to look you in the eye. You hold her face in your hands, and she sees the way you care for her in your eyes. You feel like the only two people in the room.
“Y/n,” Brie begins.
You interrupt her with a kiss to her lips. She kisses you back, her hand finding a way to the back of your neck to pull you closer. You’re both smiling so much that you have to stop kissing.
“I love you,” Brie says.
“I love you, Brie. I always have,” you reply.
Brie kisses you again before you two come back to reality. The commercial break is over, and you have to sit down. You hold her hand under the table for the rest of the night.
When the night is almost over, Brie gets her cheeseburger that she’s been waiting for.
“Still the best part of the night?” You ask her.
“No,” she says. Brie kisses your lips softly, but she lingers long enough that you want to chase after her for more. “That’s the best part.”
“I agree, sweetheart.”
“Come home with me?” She asks, a glint in her eye.
You take her hand and leave the awards show together. After parties are the last thing on your mind. You just want to spend the night with the most beautiful girl in the world.
She is finally yours.
#brie larson x reader#brie larson#Brie Larson fluff#friends to lovers#captain marvel#carol danvers x reader
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