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#and i hate to say this too? But he's the fandom pretty boy

punkeropercyjackson · 3 days

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Reasons Jason Todd is actually a green flag because i'm always dunking on him and now i feel bad about it LOL

As Robin he was a soft sunshine boy who was too shy to talk to girls and a theater lover but also had a strong sense of justice that was so powerful he pushed a guy off a roof for SA'ing a woman and only felt bad about it because Bruce made him cry over it by making him feel like a monster for killing him due to the 'No Kill' rule

Shakespeare nerd and loves classical literature in general and his poetry(narration)is actually pretty good

Cocky ass nigga but not a serial flirt and has demi/romance favorable aroace swag with a canon distaste for amatornormativity that's a running trait of his

It's also canon his type is weirdgirls who match his energy and all of his love interests have woc too boot(Rose who's half cambodian,Artemis who's egyptian and Dana who's black)

And he rejected a normie blonde white girl(Isabel)because she was too corny and forceful with her advances and was grossed out by Kory's deblackification and dehumanization instead of taking advantage of her

Mama's boy to the max(Catherine,Talia,Nocturna and in a tragic way Sheila too)

Was a street kid and grew up to still hate rich people with his whole chest instead of being performative about it(comrade Jason)

Manly but in a trans kinda way

This includes being goth punk and a tough guy not out of fragile masculinity and 2/3 of the girlfriends he's had were butches but as a trauma response

'*Sees the first ever black Robin after not giving a fuck about any of his other brothers*I fuck with him actually,let's go to Batburger manito'

One time he targeted a guy to kill him because he was an elementary school teacher who was sexually abusing one of his student's and stated this as the reason in-text for why he hated him

Also is anti-incest as he said he thinks the thought of kissing his brothers is disgusting and included Duke in it so Jason stays saying Duke is a real Batkid rights

Re him being punk,it's implied he's a straightedge since he almost never drinks alchohol at bars and dosen't smoke either

In his lego movie,they himbofied him and he sounds like a fucking surfer in it.It's so hot.Ignore that last part,

When DC finally let him and Stephanie interact,he was a lot nicer to her than she was treated back in the 90s and 2000s by other male characters(thank you Cass for giving her the appreciation she deserved)and nothing romantic comes out of it and instead they're like siblings

His favorite food is neapolitan.What a fucking dork

Great cook and homemaker in general

There's a thirst trap ass panel of him saying 'You spread your legs for stability' so i mean.He cares(I'm so sorry LMAOOOOOO)

Dad-Shaped but well-written instead of an offputting cornball i.e His dynamics with kids have his trauma and lack of experience in mind and he had to develop into it and he's actually pretty good at it now

The only times he behaved the way the fandom wants him to is in og Rhato,where he was written with complete disrespect to his character and history and that's tells you a lot with the kinda person Grant Morrison turned out to be and how Jayr*ys continue to defend their writing.Love Jason,hate fanon

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sisyphus-prime · 9 months

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Are you FUNKING kidding me with this? Why don't you have any posts about it? I've been following you for a while, but i didn't realize you selfshipped too! Why don't you have that in your pinned? hwy can't you warn people about your characters? Astarion is MY Major comfort f/o, and you ship with him too. "pretty boy" "Pretty boy" Pretty funked of you to not warn anyone. Blocked, this is absolutely heartbreaking, he's mine! I'm genuinely crying, you complete arse. Warn people.

I hate to tell you this, but I'm saying "Pretty Boy" in an almost entirely derisive way.

#look.#it doesn't matter if i was to be selfshiiiiping with him #this is completely uncalled for when I don't post about that stuff on main #my calling a character a nickname like that is no reason for you to get so defensive and upset #and i hate to say this too? But he's the fandom pretty boy #If i'm making someone uncomfortable it's better to block and move on #Especially for a reason like this #he's a very derisive character. i think it's funny to give him a derisive nickna #me. and i happened to start calling him that one #he thinks he's sooo fucking pretty

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sanemisstalker · 10 months

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N/SFW. Minors DNI

CW: GN reader / Men's Mental Health IG ???

KNY characters that I think are more prone to cumming in their pants / NSFW

Giyu

-He's inexperienced.

-I admire the almost fandom consensus of him being either resident, sexy, black haired, quiet anime boy, and/or 'nobody likes this friendless loser, he definitely has a tumblr'

-Any attention, platonic or not, from someone he's attracted to is enough to make Giyu get an apparent boner. He's prone to them when the people he admires say genuinely nice things to him.

-He doesn't get to hear nice things a lot, nor does he take compliments easily, so when he believes them, his body can't help but believe them too.

-He'd rather it not be that way, but due to his floundering mental health, and general isolation, Giyu isn't jerking off very often, nor is he able to get it up when he wants to, so he just goes... months without thinking about it sometimes.

-Could definitely cum from kissing too hard. Not just kissing, but particularly the rough treatment.

-Giyu must be incredibly touch starved, I imagine. I can't fiction the last time he's hugged someone. That scene where he's holding Shinobu, perhaps?

-So when he's getting so much attention, especially so much positive, romantic attention, even if it's a little rough, I'm sure his dick would be at full mast.

-he doesn't think he's predisposed to masochism or anything. He'd hope he wasn't, but it feels better when he's kissing, and maybe his hair is being pulled on, just a little.

-he'd be very embarassed. He wouldn't cry or anything, but I think he'd get up and leave the room. He knows you knew what happened, he didn't moan, but he flinched because the build up was so immediate, and he just couldn't stop.

-How pathetic. He can't show his face infront of you ever again. All he does is ruin good things. You're definitely disgusted by him.

-Even if he didn't realize how pretty his face looked during his orgasm.

Gyutaro

-Everyday I fight the gyutaro incel allegations, and everyday I fail.

-Gyutaro is socially inept, to put it blatantly. He spends an incredible amount of time locked away in his sister, and rarely chooses to come out unless eating for the two, or-

-if he needs to jerk off. A rarity, nowadays. Looking the way he looks can do a real number on one's ability to self-pleasure. He also isn't able to seek out assistance from any brothels- He still looks the way he looks. He's no Muzan- blessed with the ability to change his appearance at will.

-So when you're on top of Gyutaro, and he feels the curve of your ass in his palm, and your sex is positioned right on top of his, just barely grazing his clothed cock, as you try and teach him how to kiss (he's doing his best, but he knows he's not good-)

-He cums, and he cums hard. He grips down on your hips, and goes wide eyed, unable to stop the moan that rips its way from his throat... and then quickly moves you off of him.

-He isn't even finished when he moves you, he's shakey armed, and he nearly drops you.

-he's mortified. After all this time, he finally gets someone willing to touch him, and he blows it. He's borderline inconsolable- switching between begging you not to look at him and begging you not to hate him-

-but the noise he made was just so... pathetic.

Haganezuka

-Men dedicated to their craft don't have time to cum? Silly of you to assume he's ever even seen another person naked. That would imply he looked away from a sword for long enough to register it.

-On a completely serious note (as serious as I can be writing this), It'd be quite awkward interacting with Haganezuka sexually. His mind has been so consumed by perfection that, even if he wasn't dedicated to the blade, he's almost prevented himself from ever being able to cum in a social setting.

-He's developed a phobia of new situations he can't control. Especially sexual ones. Swords are easy and gratifying. Why would he ever need to cum when he can just make a sword and have it be respected and revered. Wouldn't that be nice-

-So when you started rubbing him over his pants, he was, admittedly, panicking. It's not like he went nearly 4 decades without using his dick... He'd just... gone 2 and a half decades without using his dick. Nowhere near the same.

-You'd barely even touched it, barely even pressed your lips to his neck, and Haganezuka was panting.

-The fear coursing through his veins, and the attention his forgotten cock was receiving- He grew more unsightly by the second...

-and then you pressed a particularly soft kiss to the corner of his lips and he was done for. That was his first kiss-

-Though shocked, you'd pump Haganezuka through his orgasm. It'd be enough to go through his pants, and spill over your hand.

-He'd grip your robes, and will you closer to him. His heels would slam into the floorboard, and he'd try to bury his face in your neck, attempting to muffle the groan he'd loose, only to fail tremendously.

-He'd be huffy after. Mad at himself and disguising it as being mad at you.

-'Well, maybe you shouldn't touch me anymore, if you found it so gross! Did you consider that? Just not touching me- ever?'

-but you saw how sad he looked when you said you'd do whatever he wanted. What a simple man.

#giyu smut #gyutaro smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #hashira x reader #kny x reader #giyu x y/n #giyu x reader #giyuu x reader #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #haganezuka smut #haganezuka x reader #upper moon smut #upper moons x reader #kny smut

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reallyromealone · 4 months

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May I request Leona K. x male reader? Reader is like Isabella Madrigal from Encanto. He is florokinetic, is beautiful and graceful in every way, and has a sass streak. Maybe just enemies to lovers? Thank you, and take your time!

Title: careful it's carnivorous

Pairing: Leona kingscholar x reader

Fandom: twisted wonderland

Warnings:

Notes:

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

Flowers.

Everywhere.

God Leona hated spring, it was when his least favorite classmate was fully... Himself.

Everyone knew (name), his floral magic was like nothing anyone had seen before and annoyingly perfect as he provided professor Crewel a flower he needed through magic.

"We will be pairing our all in groups of two, the names for each group are on the chart by the door" Crewel said simply as the class ended, each student going to check theit name on the list before leaving "oh you have to be kidding" (name) grumbled as he looked at the chart, his name was right beside the most insufferable person at this schools, Leona Kingscholar. "You better pull your weight!" (Name) seethed and Leona rolled his eyes "why don't you stop telling me what to do?" He drawled out with a catty smile, (name) fuming before storming off.

Leona grumbled as he walked into the greenhouse, (name) already gone to work at collecting things "couldn't you just magic the supplies? Or is your magic just good for making flowers" Leona said mockingly and (name) rolled his eyes "it would be unfair of us to do that, I'm not gonna cheat my way through this" now it was Leona's turn to roll his eyes as he looked at (name) "what are we even doing?"

"Luck potion" an extremely difficult potion, one mistake and they wouldn't even remotely have time to make a new one with its fermenting process.

"You think we can handle that?"

"If you stop lazing around, we absolutely could" (name) was self-assured, as always and Leona scoffed at him "god you're insufferable"

"I can't, I'm sorry" (name) said over the phone, it was known in the Pomefiore dorm that (name) had a complex relationship with his family, especially his grandmother who treated him like a trophy of sorts "I-im sorry, I have too many commitments here"

Another engagement offer.

He wasn't some bargaining chip.

After phone calls, he often found himself sitting in the greenhouse alone, frustration and hurt seeped through him as he let his composure slip, god he was just so done.

Being the eldest of seven, the responsibilities fell on him aways and he knew he made his grandma upset when he chose night ravens college over royal swords academy but he did it because he wanted this school, it had what he wanted.

Leona sighed as he walked through the halls of the academy, doing the patrols before bed when he saw a familiar figure walk towards the greenhouse "oh?" Well tonight was sure interesting to say the least, after all... "Wow, the perfect one breaking a rule? Isn't this funny" (name) turned to see Leona smirk down at him "just... Shut up" (name) whispered as he stood up "you can be cocky and shit but just... Shut up for once" (name) whispered as vines grew around the garden "can't you just leave me alone for once?"

"Wow, wheres the bite you usually have? Come on, pretty boy" Leona taunted and (name) felt his patience wear thin "can you just fuck off!" He yelled as cacti grew around them, the two stunned "you can grow those?"

"Apparently I can" (name)s grandmother always told him he could only grow flowers... "So why are you out here, little Mr. Perfect?" (Name)s mood shifted as he glared at him "oh shut up, you lazy ass!" He spat back and Leona grinned, there was the snarky flower boy he knew and hated "god you can't shit your trap! God if you could use that energy for being a shit maybe use it for our project!"

"And maybe you could stop being so annoying for once and I would actually want to do it!"

"Asshole!"

"Priss!"

And somehow, (name)s foul mood about his grandmother was gone as the two argued down the ball and a tiny cactus with two flowers on it sat in the greenhouse.

The following day, Leona grumbled as he felt vines grab his ankle "hurry up before I drag you!" (Name) said as he strutted down the hall, looking flawless as Leona glared but followed, other students admiring (name) as he passed and bloomed flower crowns on each of their heads.

"(Name)" malleus said softly, staring down (name) as he and Ace were leaving the lab "Malleus" (name) said coldly, leaning back when malleus got closer "absolutely not, we are not doing this again" (name) glared and waved a bunch of flowers at his face as he and Leona went into the lab, locking the door behind them "I know he's insufferable but what was that about?" Leona stretched and (name) rolled his eyes, taking out their supplies from the small lockers they reserved.

"My grandmother tried to have me engaged to him, malleus was all for it but I said no because god if I have to hear about gargoyles one more time..."

"He never shuts up about them, also how is it I manage to show up to things before him!" Leona fired back as they started the project, both talking heatedly about the fae prince.

It was the first time they agreed on something.

After that, their conversations were less hostile and Leona actually found himself enjoying (name)s company.

(Name) walked into the greenhouse later in the afternoon and saw Leona sleeping in a sun beam, rolling his eyes at this (name) grabbed a notebook he forgotten and went to walk out but before he did... "He's sleeping, he won't know" and like that a leaf grew right where the sun was hitting his eyes.

Only Leona was awake and was smirking as (name) clicked the door shut.

After that, working with (name) was far more tolerable, the two actually not going at each other much to everyones surprise and when something strange happens... Rumors start.

"Apparently, you and I are engaged because you blackmailed my family" (name) teased as he looked over the sleeping hybrid "really? I heard we had a passionate makeout session after you confessed to me with a bouquet of roses" Leona said back and the two chuckled at the nonsense that their classmates came up with as they focused on their work-- well (name) did, Leona relaxed in the corner.

Then his phone went off.

Again

And again

"Hello grandma, yes I did hear--- well I am not interested in him! So I'm not marrying him! I don't care if he's a good connection!" (Name) angrily hung up And Leona raised an eyebrow "she sounds like a bitch" Leona said simply and (name) sighed "she isn't the best" (name) mumbled "she wants me to marry someone so she can get up in the social latter... But I would rather eat glass then be with the people she offered me to"

"Who would you want?"

"Someone who isn't pretentious, not going to put me in a box and doesn't make me act perfect"

"Act?"

"You think I want to be like this? Perfect? Unable to make a mistake?"

He just wanted to garden.

And that is when Leona fell.

(Name) was awkward after the project finished, looking over at Leona who was about to fall asleep but took notice of (name)s slight deflation "come on rabbit food" Leona grumbled as he dragged a confused (name) "where are we going?"

"Don't worry about it princess" (name) looked offended at the nickname, he was a prince at least!

And that's when it happened, in a forgotten corner of the school.

A kiss.

"Still think you're an ass"

#twst x reader #twst leona #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona x male reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar #anime x male reader #anime x reader

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strawb3rrystar · 2 months

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Ofc ! That's what I'll req for :3 So, HH and HB boys, (you can pick mowrre, if not, specifically- Alastor, Angel, Sir Pentious, Blitz 'n Fizz and Stolas) With a s/o that's straight up a menace, no specific gender. They're kinda like Karma akabane or Tsukishima Kei? If not familiar with 'em, then they're literally just a BIG tease and salty. Love to rile people up for their enjoyment and amusement, snarky and a slight bully and strong, (has a cute face but is malicious as hell) And ofc the boys aren't safe from the teasing, but it's just light. For example teases Blitz about his height, but in general their s/o have a soft spot ONLY for them which the boys notice. (Bonus point a hard yet gentle dom after x3) Ppl ignore this ask for sum reason 😭 Have a good day or night, MWAH ! -⚰️

Performance affair.

Pairing: Alastor, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Blitzø, Fizzarolli, Stolas x GN! Reader

Warnings: Some very slight suggestive stuff on Angel, Pentious and Blitz

Word count: 516

✰HH HB

Alastor will be more or less pissed off. He finds your behavior to be quite immature and will constantly remind you that you could drive away guests from the hotel. Not that he actually cares, he just likes to correct your behavior. He won't stand for your attitude and start taking away your privileges. You'll have to beg him pretty hard to get them back.

"It's going to take more than that, my dear."

Angel Dust will definitely tease you back. You want to out sass him? Honey, he's packing nine inches and can take it up the ass like drinking coffee on a Monday morning. That's to say, you won't be winning that anytime soon. He can go on for days if he wants to. He himself, or his persona, also likes to rial people up and is quite snarky. It's just a fun hobby for the two of you at this point.

"Two can play at that game, toots."

Sir Pentious will take your teasing to heart. Not in the sense that he'd get upest over it. More like, if you'd tease him sexually, he'll turn into a stuttering mess. Honestly, if you say anything to this snake, he'll be like puddy in your hands. A someone who comes from a past of tormenting people, he gets where you're coming from. He thinks you can sometimes get a little out of hand, but he gets too nervous to really say anything.

"M-my dear, don't you think that was a little far..?"

Blitzø is a petty ass motherfucker, who hates when people talk shit about him. If you're taller than him and you make fun of his height. He'll shove you to the ground and then tease you for being stronger. If you tease him for his love of horses, he'll tease you right back for something that you really enjoy. All that to say, yall tease each other. It honestly turns into a teasing war between the two of you. Which can also turn into dirty talk, but that's a story for another day...

"Oh, you fucking bitch! Don't you dare insult my horse figures, whore!" - (In a loving way)

Fizzarolli will also tease you back. Though his teasing is more in a loving way. He doesn't particularly like you pissing people off. Because he's a jester and his whole thing is making people happy. But you mostly do it to his creepy fans, so he's actually pretty grateful. He can and he will tickle you if you say some out of line shit.

"Woah, babe, I love you, but calm the fuck down."

Stolas doesn't react much to your behavior. He doesn't take your teasing to heart much and will usually laugh it off. He's constantly blaming your behavior on you having a bad day to other people. Since you can't seem to understand what a public image is. Either way, he still loves you and will sometimes tease you back. Just to a way less intense degree.

"I am so sorry. My darling is just having an off day, is all."

Star's notes -> Decided to pull out the old formatting for this one! Also this is a very lovely request anon, people are mean for ignoring it >:{

(Thank you, sweet ⚰️-anon, for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @alexandria-fandom @corruptcoder @astrolovedy @perfectlycraftychaos @stressedbleach @idontreallyexistyet @ghostdoodlen @roboticsuccubus83 @blood-heart22 @cirrus-sampling-sanity @onyxxtheghost @sugarplumz100 @myamythos @hazbinhappy @samohxt2-0 @mollzaj @sunshines-bright @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @sweetadonisbutbetter | Join the taglist

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apparentlytheproblem · 1 year

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d a t i n g m a t h e o r i d d l e

fandom- Harry Potter

pairing(s)- matheo riddle

a/n: i had fun with this cause my boy is'nt even cannon and i've derived this from the show deadly class (its absolutley lovley) and im so sorry i deleted the request baby with love, tiya

requested- yes

warnings- unexperienced writer, not thoroughly edited

i think it would be a slowburn

i think it would take time for both of you to personally acknowledge what you both have

because Matheo Riddle is too high and mighty to have something as low and embarrassing as a highschool crush

my man will be in utter confusion why he wants to stare but looks away to act cool

like you both keep glancing at each other, for what?

y'all just ignoring each other just to avoid a zoo in your stomach

but like you know you're in love, you know he's in love, at this point everyone knows but y'all just don't admit it

because if you do, everything suddenly becomes to real

I have always had such an obsession with him

him, his face, his everything

his eyes are so pretty, they're just gorgeous and that freakin smile would just get me on my knees

I think even though he seems as the cold hearted bitch he's just so sweet to you

I've always had a thing for people who has a soft spot for me ugh

everyone hated him, loved him or wanted to be him

he was the it girl

I don't think he'd be much into playing quidditch as such

but he's pretty darn fit if i must say so myself

he'd be good in combat fighting

hence all the fights, but he'd be winnin my luv

he'd teach you how to play video games

he'd make you playlists and everything

once you both have reached that bond he'd be so obnoxious

he'd be loving, caring and everything

10/10 fr

he loves that everyone knows you're dating

this would be important as he gets jealous so easily

he's just yours and I love that

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katz-chow · 10 months

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nsfw headcanons with the 141 + graves

warnings: nsfw 18+, gn!reader (amab & afab versions), past sexual trauma in ghost's part, bondage, edging, denial, teasing, dom & sub dynamics,

a/n: i really thought about this mostly because i don't like it when the fandom has like these takes that are i guess...expected from these men when they're literal soldiers...some are just takes that i deem unrealistic so here i'm trying to humanize them. hope y'all enjoy!

john price

6 in hard, cut, trimmed but is not really maintained as well as his beard, around med thick, a bit darker than his skin tone, curves up pretty straight i feel he's the type to like it really slow and gentle with you. like he takes his time, cigar in his mouth, and just his hand on you constantly. he loves to just relax after an action packed day, so having this as his peace of mind is something he'll really appreciate. he has the oldest, cheesiest playlist that he'll sometimes puts on whenever there'll be a day where he has a whole date planned. like this mf really thinks "rock your body" by justin timberlake something he can get down too. you make fun of him but he feels so good so it's ok. surprisingly has really good stamina for a 37 y/o dude. is very vanilla but he loves body worshipping. loves you like a divine being and to him you really are. he'll rather take you on the kitchen counter whenever you two are too impatient, maybe even on the bathroom vanity when you looks so cute after brushing your teeth that he just can't help it before he goes to work. would rather be on top of you, not really a dom & sub dynamic, just him taking over to make sure you're taken care of. a real good ol' fashion lover boy. after a long day at work and he just wants to relax, he'll just either ask you to blow him while he manspreads on the couch or he'll make you ride him on your bed. this man talks you through, never degrades you unless you ask for it. he'll prefers to baby you like the pillow princess you are...but he also expects the same when he's lazy he also loves it when you tug his hair when he goes down on you, grinding against his face or whatever. won't whine or whimper, but will pant like a dog in heat (he is) tits/chest kind of guy, loves to have his hands on your chest and squeeze them, so squishy! aftercare with him is like heaven because as soon as you two are finished, he immediately cleans you up and draws a bath for you both, or just you, to enjoy. good ol' fashion lover boy

simon "ghost" riley

6.5 in, uncut, doesn't really shave or trim, pink, warm undertones, i'd say pretty girthy, curves left so, so gentle with you. just like really soft with you, always making sure you're okay and that you're comfy the type to lay you down and just slowly press in, making sure your face is full of pleasure and not pain. because of his past experience, getting him to have sex in the first place took a long time, actually it was like year. so now that he's comfortable with you, he makes sure, for sure, that you're comfortable with him. consent is sexy. likes positions where he can sees your face, just to check up (and because he thinks you looks so angelic when you o) i feel like he wouldn't listen to any music while going at it, he doesn't want to be distracted from you. you love seeing his face too so its okay. incredibly hesitant and will not push your boundaries, also hard for him if you do end up doing something you haven't really talked about, even if it was accidental. his fav positions are anything that allows him to see your face and is easy for you to speak, that means no doggy, no pressing your face into the pillows etc etc. is not into bondage or tying you up, hates the fact that it feels like he's interrogating you and he hates the feeling of himself being tied up. always make sure you know what the safe word is, even if he's never going to push your boundaries or even go near it. once he finds a safe zone, he stays there unless you ask and he considers it (the safe word is pineapple) very vanilla and i feel like he wouldn't sub until there is a detailed talk beforehand and really, really trusts you. even then he still makes sure that you're in his view and you both know the safe word. once he does subs and lets you take full control, he's pretty vocal with you, talking to you, groaning and moaning, but he's still pretty quiet actually first time you introduced aftercare to him, he cried. he didn't know how loved he could feel while in the topic of sex, thought it was all hot and rough and not this soft. his favorite thing to do with you is to just wipe you both clean with a baby wipe from a packet you two keep in the nightstand. then he'll put on some clothes for you and him and just cuddle and kiss. he likes when you get him food afterwards when he subs someone please hug this man

kyle "gaz" garrick

7 in, cut, def trimmed, sometimes he'll even shave, darker than his skin tone, med thickness, doesn't curve but kinda rises straight up and hits his stomach, very cute he's 10000% down to do it any time whenever you two are at home. such a good balance between degradation and praise, only if you're okay with it. have you heard this man? he's a giggler, he'll giggle and tickle you and make funny jokes. one time, one of you farted (you two are still denying who it was to this day) and he couldn't stop laughing and mimicking the little toot sound i have a big feeling that he's into choking, but only you choking him. otherwise, he likes having his hand on your throat but not actually squeezing, just to keep you in place and for you to claw at speaking of your claws, he likes when you push him away and scratch at his forearms whenever he's overstimulating you. he just thinks it's so cute. definitely has a few playlists he shuffles through depending on the mood, one for a serious, hot and dirty mood and another for when you two are just chilling and being silly goofy, no kinky stuff. also into handcuffs, especially the fluffy ones. he thinks they just feel so soft and nice, a perfect balance between vanilla and kinky stuff. also because he feels like hes being pampered when he wears them attached to the headboard. lets out such cute and pretty moans no matter if he's domming or subbing. when he is subbing though, he lets out these really nice, low whines and pouts followed by a little giggle if it was silly your safeword is definitely something really funny and an inside joke that instantly ruins the mood (it's toots) he will actually ruin you if he's upset; def the type to have angry sex with you if two end up being really upset with each other. frustration sex? yes definitely. loves when you fuck him really rough, deny him, edge him, make him blabbering. he'll thank you afterwards too. if he's domming, he'll make sure you shower first and foremost, then orders take out and watch some stupid romcom. he loves romcoms (10 things i hate about you, will sing along with heath ledger) if he's subbing, depending on the intensity, he'll either just roll over after you wipe him down and immediately sleep as you pet his hair or he'll cling onto you and you two play minecraft together with him between your legs. 10/10 he's very adaptable

johnny "soap" mactavish

5.6 in, uncut, trimmed and maintained constantly, pretty pink but not much different from his skin tone, vvy girthy, leans a bit left but pretty straight this man is so damn funny. listen this mf has fell, cut himself, slipped, had a cramp, and hit his head too many times. he's so fucking clumsy but he's also so curious! but also...why does he want to have sex upside?!?! ughhhh!!! definitely a switch and definitely a power bottom...for a good 5 minutes. yes he will bite you and act like a brat whenever you dom him and mess with him, but as soon as you tie him up and edge him once, he's a goner definitely makes fun of you to see your flushed face, but also makes fun of himself. he uses his cock like a puppet and it has its own personality and voice. you laugh so hard and honestly that's better than hearing your moans. he loves your laugh makes his cock salute you before you two go down, it's so fucking funny. his "little buddy" jumping up when he calls attention and in parade rest. god it makes you laugh every time. his favorite position when he's subbing is cowgirl and reverse cowgirl. he's such an ass man, loves him some ass, will bite you like its actual cake. reverse cowgirl is reserved for when you're feeling mean though, because sometimes you just pull off of him to jerk him off and sit on his stomach. he has a nice view of your ass but can't see what you're about to do to him :( a big tease when he's domming, will have the most randomest patterns ever just to get you to whine and beg for him to go at certain pace. give him a few pouts and glossy tears and he'll do whatever you want, he's a big softie behind all the tease and bratiness. also a fan of doggy if you two are doing it quickly, he loves bending you over a surface and just going ham at it. good position for him to reach and jerk you off at the same time too. immediately cuddles as aftercare and not cleaning up right away, when he's subbing though, you def clean him up while he clings to you because he's so touchy feely but you want him to feel clean too, esp when he leaks so much (so much). when he's domming though, you two would just lay in bed (maybe even go for another round if you feel like it). gives you kisses and asks what you like and didn't like, a full debrief. plays mario kart afterwards with you and you let him win because you're tired. such a silly man

phillip graves

5.6 in, cut, not really trimmed or maintained, a pretty pink almost red tip, med girth, he curves UP like UP this man is a big tease, and super egotistical. he'll make you beg, whine, pout, and grind against him before he will even touch you. he likes cockwarning a lot while he's on a business call or doing paperwork. he's patient. makes you cum first, doesn't matter if he's domming or subbing, he wants you to use him like a toy for your own pleasure until you're satisfied enough that he'll even think about cumming. when he's domming, he loves to call you the nastiest things (if you allow him), absolutely ruins you and coats you with his cum. he's a southern gentlemen though and will make your mind go numb with pleasure, def a pleasure dom now that i'm using my noggin his fav positions are cowgirl, missionary, and doggy. lotus mostly so he can wrap his arms around you. makes you wear his cowboy hat when you ride him. and will use the hat rule in public to get you to suck him off in the car LOLOL i feel like he's big into gags, not really on you, but def on him. wants to be drooling and leaking all over himself while he whines and begs you to touch him, he's cute. likes being manhandled. grabbing his jaw, digging your nails into his back, biting him, even if he's on top, he'll enjoy it. he likes the scratch marks you give him and wears them like a trophy for his shadows to see. very vocal with you and loves to be a pillow princess when he bottoms. likes to be tied up with a vibe on his cock and edged and overstimulated will whimper and whine and moan and pout, like a little puppy. would probably grind up against your leg when he feels extra needy. aftercare with him is kinda shitty whenever he doms ngl. he'll make you something to eat and probably take you shopping afterwards. not a big cuddler but would hold you if you curl up into him. if he was subbing, he would probably take a nap after you pester him to take a shower. he'll just nap and finally wake up when he smells food that you get him for being so good lol saved by the grace of southerner charm

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coryosbaby · 1 year

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Ultraviolence - E.L & C.M

(Pt. 4)

Fandom: “Scream Vi”

Pairing: stepbrother! Ethan Landry x fem! Reader, Chad Meeks Martin x fem! Reader, Ethan Landry x Chad Meeks Martin

Warning: stepcest A/n: It’s finally here ‼️ I apologize for the wait yall 🤝(stepbrother x stepsister), threesome, double penetration, oral (f & m recieving), cum play, daddy kink, degradation/praise, switch! Reader, switch!Chad,dark! Ethan, dom! Ethan

A/n: It’s finally here ‼️ I apologize for the wait yall 🤝

You’ve been hanging out with Chad a lot recently.

It’s the first thing Ethan notices after the whole ‘fucking at a party” ordeal. And the second thing he notices, is that you have gotten really extroverted.

It’s been a few weeks, so the change makes it course over time. But you’re so much more different than before; where you once wore your little outfits with a shyness to you, you now strut around like you own the place. You speak more, present yourself more. You’ve also went to a few parties here and there. And honestly, Ethan can’t blame you for that. You’re beautiful and perfect, and why would he expect you not to think it yourself? And why wouldn’t he expect you, as a young woman, to go and make your own decisions?

It’s just that, Ethan hates change.

At the beginning, you were supposed to be his. His little secret, his little doll to play with and fuck. And now Chad has joined the mix, and it’s all different. It makes his head spin.

Your parents, Chad, and Ethan are at the kitchen table when you come barreling down the stairs. Its a hot day, like most of this summer, and your cheeks are red and flushed. You’ve been getting sunburn a lot more, it seems.

Chad has been staying over a lot more, too. Maybe partly to hang out with Ethan, but the doe eyed boy knows it’s more than that. Because the moment he’s left alone, Chad is somehow ending up next to you. His hand always rests on your knee, and you always tilt your head back and giggle at what he says. It’s ridiculous.

You smile brightly at Ethan, and move over to kiss Chad on the cheek.

“Goodmorning, guys!”

Ethan scowls at your affection, at your happy demeanor. He doesn’t like to be left out. but then you’re pressing a kiss to his cheek, too. That surprises him, and his eyebrows raise. Your parents don’t seem to notice, too wrapped up in the conversation about bills they’re having to care. And maybe you don’t seem to care, anymore. You aren’t as discreet, aren’t shy to touch Ethan or actually spend more time with him in front of your parents. Maybe it’s better this way.

Except for Chad.

“Goodmorning, bunny.” Chad’s eyes follow your form, and he smiles up at you. “You look pretty today.”

The fucking nickname.

Chad’s been calling you that since the night of the party, when he had went home with you and Ethan and tucked your body into your bed and kissed you goodnight. Ethan had stayed with you, after that, and held you until you went to sleep. Chad had thanked him, and Ethan can remember it all clearly now: the expanse of Chad’s jaw as he spoke, his hazel eyes looking at him in appreciation. He had had a nervous flush to his cheeks. Ironic, considering what they had just done. He had almost looked...cute.

Wait, what?

And this is what brings Ethan to immense confusion. He stares at the bowl of fruit loops in front of him, and contemplates what the fuck he just thought.

And then he looks over at Chad again, from across the table. He’s letting you sit in his lap, and he’s feeding you a piece of toast.

You both look good, today. You’re wearing a tiny pink crop top, and a little skirt hangs low around your hips, thigh highs and garter belt showing. Ethan notices that you’ve been wearing them a lot, recently. And Chad is wearing one of Ethan’s Coldplay tee shirts, one Ethan has seen him in a thousand times whenever he stays over.

But now, he notices, it fits him quite well.

He audibly groans, and loudly. You and Chad’s eyes go to him, eyebrows raised, and he tilts his head back and sighs.

“I’m going upstairs,” he grumbles. The chair makes a loud scraping sound as he gets out of it, and you cringe. You notice the way his hands are clenched at his sides as he walks up the stairs.

“What was that about?” Wayne asks. He’s clearly uninterested; his reading glasses are perched on his nose and he’s looking at the mail. You shrug. Sometimes you wonder if he even has a personality, honestly.

It’s later that night, and Chad is staying over again.

He’s asleep beside Ethan, and he’s snoring softly. Something he’s been doing since high school; Ethan’s bed is like his own.

And when Ethan’s eyes are resting against his pillow, he hears the door open.

He knows it’s you, can smell your strawberry perfume from a mile away. He turns over, and lifts his head up to look at you.

You nervously twiddle your fingers and whisper.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He shakes his head, looking down at your pretty pink nightgown and your bare feet sliding across the hardwood floor.

“You didn’t. What’s wrong, angel?”

“I uhm—“ you hesitate, and Ethan notices the tears going down your face. He sits up immediately, careful not to wake Chad, and moves over to you and pushes you out of earshot. He holds your face in his hands.

“You can tell me.”

“I just had a n-nightmare, that’s all..”

He wipes your tears away and pulls you into a hug. He’s sweet, pressing kisses to your cheeks and holding you for a moment so you can rest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks.

You hesitate, but then nod.

“We can go outside next to the pool, if you want,” Ethan suggests. And when you agree, he’s quietly pulling you down the stairs. When you open the sliding door to go outside the concrete is warm underneath your feet; it’s a hot summer night, but not hot enough to be excruciating. Just enough to bring comfort. You sit down beside the pool and let your bare feet rest in the water. Ethan sits down beside you, his fingers brushing against yours.

“What was your nightmare about?” He asks.

“We got caught.” You murmur. “In the dream, we got caught. And they wouldn’t- wouldn’t let me see you..”

Ethan frowns. He doesn’t like thinking about that fact.

“We won’t get caught, honey.” Ethan coos. “And even if we did.. nothing will stop me from being around you. Nothing.”

The way he says it makes you shiver. His tone is dark, and you can see the way his fists are clenched at his sides. And when he relaxes, he begins to speak.

“Can I ask you something?” He says.

“Of course.”

“Do you like Chad?” He already knows your answer. There’s no need to say it.

“…Do you?” You glance at him, and he shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. “Maybe.”

You place your hand on his thigh, and softly draw circles into clothed skin. He sighs and begins to relax. His hand goes up to cup your cheek in his palm.

You hesitate when his lips almost touch yours.

“We shouldn’t. Not here.”

“Oh c’mon, baby…” his teeth nip at your earlobe, and that’s all it takes before he slips his fingers underneath your nightgown.

“Don’t you want to make your big brother proud?”

And after, after he’s inpaled you on his thick length beside that pool, after he’s filled you full of his cum, he carries you back into his room. Chad surfaces when he feels your body land next to his. His eyes crack open, and in the darkness of the room, he can smell your sweet scent.

“Y/n?” He questions groggily, and you let out a little giggle.

“Mhm.”

“C’mere.” His hands guide your head to his chest, and you curl up against him eagerly. Then the boys eyes furrow in confusion.

“Wait, where’s Eth?”

“Right here, man.” Ethan says from the other side of you.

“Oh shit, hey!” Chad says in surprise. He can be so dumb sometimes.

And then he’s clearing his throat and muttering.

“You can- you can move closer.. If you want to.”

Ethan ponders, and then he’s nodding as a smile is plastered onto his face.

“Sure.”

He curls his body up, cheek resting on you shoulder, and his hand goes to lay across Chad’s lower stomach. Chad, yawns, and grabs Ethan’s hand as he goes back to sleep again.

Ethan doesn’t really care that Chad is here anymore.

I mean, he’s his best friend, right? And best friends always share.

Even each other.

And that’s evident now as Ethan’s lips are attached to Chad’s with an imminent longing.

It’s the first time they’ve kissed; and although it should be awkward, it’s not. Things have just always flowed between them like that. It’s easy.

You giggle as Chad moves from Ethan’s mouth to yours, lips swollen and kiss bitten. He’s got his shirt off, Ethan with his pants unbuckled and hair mussed. It seems that deciding to go to Chad’s apartment was a good idea.

“I told you guys you should’ve kissed sooner. I knew there was something going on!” You say. Ethan rolls his eyes. He hates when you’re right.

“Yeah, yeah, princess.” Chad teases. “Why don’t you take that little top off and come suck me off, hm?”

“Why don’t you let Ethan do it?”

Chad lets out a breath, and his cheeks become ablazed as he sees the look Ethan gives him.

“You want that, Chad?” Ethan asks. The boy nods, pretty eyes incredibly dark from the intimacy of the whole situation. The fact that he has the most beautiful girl and boy in his bedsheets right now is making his brain fuzzy.

Ethan grins, big frame moving over to push Chad down onto the sheets below him. He huffs.

“Why do you always have to be so aggressive about everything?”

“Bite me.”

“Maybe.”

The thing about Chad is, with you he’s so used to being in control. But when it comes to Ethan, he really just wants to sit back and submit. He doesn’t really know why; maybe it’s the other boy’s cockiness that makes him seem so intimidating, something about his build and that grin he gives Chad whenever he tells him about one of his shitty hookups. He’s never felt this way about another guy, but he doesn’t hate it. And as Ethan pulls down Chad’s briefs and pulls the boy’s thighs over his own, he whines.

“Eth, c’mon.. I want you to use your mouth. Please?”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Chad beg. And honestly, it sounds like something you’d like to hear more often. You watch as Ethan grabs Chad’s hard length in his hand, the tip flushed and leaking precum.

“No. Don’t be greedy. Besides, we still have to make our bunny feel good, don’t we?”

Chad flushes, arm going up to cover his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. Bunny, C’mere.”

You crawl on your hands and knees over to Chad. He smiles, going up to press a kiss to your lips.

“I’m gonna take my cock out, sweet girl. Think you can use your hands on me?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

Your hands reach into Ethan’s pants and you pull him out. You sigh in content, lips wandering over his biceps as you stroke his cock. He groans, leaning back to kiss you again. Chad makes a noise of displeasure, and it gets Ethan’s attention. He chuckles, hands going to stroke his thighs.

“Do you need something?” He jokes.

Chad pouts. “I want a kiss, too.”

“Poor baby.”

And then Ethan is pulling Chad up. The boy whines, lips crashing against Ethan’s again. He smiles into the kiss. Your hand is still stroking him, only steadily, but begins to increase in speed as his tongue goes into Chad’s mouth. Ethan groans harshly, pulling away.

“Little minx. Come give Chad a kiss.”

You smile, leaning over to give him one. Chad’s eyelashes flutter shut at the feeling of your soft hands going up to stroke his hair.

“Good boy..” you whisper. Chad keens, forehead resting against yours.

“Am I really?”

“Of course you are. Now lay back down, okay?”

His body goes down onto the bed and Ethan pulls him back over his thighs again. You move to the end of the bed, near his head. Your fingers softly stroke his face. His eyes flutter shut, and his mind becomes engulfed in the many sensations. Ethan begins to stroke him again.

“Oh! God..”

The boy can’t keep still, his hips chasing that beautiful friction. Ethan spits down on him.

“Good fuckin’ boy. I bet you wanna cum so bad, don’t you?”

“Yes!.. c-can bunny ride my face? Please?”

The nickname and the fact that he’s still worried about your orgasm makes you smile.

“Yeah, baby. She can.” Ethan replies.

You remove your panties, Chad looking up at you with a dazed look and his face contorted in pleasure. Your wetness trickles down your thighs as you sit down on the boy’s face. His reaction is immediate; the moment your pussy is close to him, he grabs you by your ass and holds you down onto him. His tongue rubs your swollen clit with vigor, and you gasp. Chad loves eating pussy, but you’ve got to top all of the other ones he’s become familiar with. Your juices are perfect, bitter and sweet all at once, making his hips fuck into Ethan’s hands more. If he could just sit there and take your wetness down his throat for the rest of his life, he would.

“Look at that,” Ethan coos. “Both my babies look so precious. Does his tongue feel good on your little clit, sweet girl?”

You nod aggressively. Your hands are dripping your tits harshly as you bounce up and down on him. “Feels s’good, daddy.”

“Yeahhh, that’s my fuckin’ girl. Bet you want both those little holes used, don’t you? Want them dripping both our loads?”

The thought of it makes your eyes roll back, and Chad moans underneath you. You feel your orgasm nearing, tummy tightening.

“‘M gonna cum.. oh! God, pleasepleaseplease-“

“Yeah. Go on, cum on our boy’s face.”

And when you do, you’re tilting your head back and obeying Ethan’s orders, just like you always do.

The next day Ethan is bending you over the desk in his bedroom. He’s harsh, hips slapping your thighs in the most filthy way. The door lays wide open because no one is home. Ethan’s hands are wrapped around your throat. His grip is incredibly tight, and he pulls your body against his in an unnatural bent position. He’s fucking you, so careless, as if you’re nothing to him. And although that’s not the case, the incredibly large cock kissing your cervix seems to deem otherwise. Sounds leave your sweet mouth as he pounds your little cunt, whispering dirty praises.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight- love this pussy so much, fuck!” He groans, his cock twitching.

“I know s-sir, feels s’good…”

Your legs shake, body trembling, your sticky wetness coating Ethan’s cock, and he spreads you apart to watch your pussy be pummeled by him.

“God. Look at you, baby. Yeah, you’re my good little slut. So pretty..”

His hand reaches around and he begins to aggressively rub your clit. Your juices gush out and fall down your thighs, your orgasm drawing near. And with one last squeeze to Ethan’s gigantic length, you cum. He groans, and his hips are stuttering as he fills you up for the third time that week. The fact that you aren’t pregnant is beyond the both of you.

When Ethan pulls out, your body lays limp against the wooden desk. Drool is all over your chin and lips. You smile, dazed, and let out a small giggle.

Ethan smiles, bringing his hand down to stroke your back.

“You okay?”

“‘M perfect, E. Can you help me up, please?”

He does, ever the gentleman, and brings you over to his bed. You stumble a bit, due to the process of getting up too quick and because of your sore legs, but you manage. And when Ethan joins you on the bed, he’s pulling your body against his equally nude one. His softening cock rests softly against your hip, and he kisses your cheek.

“Go to sleep, sweet thing. I’ll clean up.”

You nod, eyes droopy, and drift off.

Ethan really did mean to clean up. But your hair smelled so nice, and he hadn’t got a lot of sleep the night before. So, he falls asleep against your back, his lips pressed against your shoulder blade.

You were both so content that you never heard the sound of the door opening and closing. The sound of your parent’s voices carrying throughout the house. And when Ethan’s dad decides to make a trip upstairs, when he walks past Ethan’s room, his booming voice makes you both jolt awake.

“What the hell is going on here?!”

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skamenglishsubs · 2 months

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Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 3

Episode 3 picks up the day after the camping trip, and Wilhelm calls his mom to check on her. She dumps a massive guilt trip on him, maybe unintentionally, and Wilhelm is feeling a little bit down.

Culture: These are Swedish studentmössor. They originated in the 1800's among Nordic university students and they wore them as a common marker. Later, they were adopted as graduation caps for high school students, signifying that they were now allowed to begin studying at a university.

Culture: Valborg, April 30th, is a traditional Swedish holiday where you celebrate the coming of spring with bonfires. It is also the start of graduation season for high school students, and graduates are allowed to start wearing their caps.

Cinematography: This season they started writing most on-screen social media commentary in English, despite those users being pretty obviously Swedish. I suspect it's because it saves them having to subtitle all of them, it makes it a bit easier for all the viewers to follow along.

Subtext: No, keeping up appearances is more important than mental health for the royal family, which is why this is new behaviour that Wilhelm has never seen before.

Subtext: As a reminder of the increased interest, here's a paparazzi intruding on school grounds. Also, where the hell is Malin? Isn't it her job to shoo away photographers?

Culture: Vintern Rasat is a classic Swedish song celebrating spring that's often performed by student singers at Valborg.

Subtext: Boris cleverly offers August individual therapy, something he sorely needs.

Subtext: It's of course a bit ironic that pretty much the entire fandom hates August and has decided that he can't be forgiven or redeemed. Yes, you, dear reader. But Boris lays out a way for August to start his redemption arc. Will it work? Tune in for next week's episode!

Culture: These usernames reek of white supremacy. Norse mythology references are very popular, and 88 means H*il H*tler, so that's the kind of people we're dealing with. The show is also foreshadowing what's gonna happen at the end of the episode.

Blink and you miss it: Linda made Pabellón, a Venezuelan dish. In season 1 we didn't know where Linda was from, but in season 2 she was canonically made as being from Venezuela, just like Omar is in real life.

Subtext: I think August actually cares, Kristina is family to him too, but Wilhelm refuses to treat him as family, so he lies about how she's doing. Not very convincingly, though.

Cinematography: This is an absolutely hilarious shot with a bunch of students anxiously peering out through the windows as the dreaded enemy arrives: Skolinspektionen! Dun-dun-dun!

Blink and you miss it: There's a rainbow flag on the board to the left.

Subtext: Vanessa totally knew she interrupted a makeout session between our boys. Oh, and there's a lot of purple in these two scenes, colour theory exploded with joy.

Subtext: Simon will be proven wrong, someone will be honest.

Subtext: It's also ironic that Simon joins the rest of the Forest Ridge boys pretending to have a great meal together that is totally not stiff and awkward at all, absolutely not.

Lost in translation: Simon Walter says that May 1st is a "röd dag" - a red day, which is how Sundays and public holidays are usually marked in a Swedish calendar. "Bank holiday" is the term used in the UK for public holidays. There are 13 public holidays in Sweden each year.

Culture: Första Maj is the name of the International Workers' Day in Sweden, because it always occurs on May 1st. In defence of Henry and Walter's shared braincell, most Swedes actually don't participate, but it's a bit weird to not even know what it is.

Subtext: This entire sequence shows how Felice's dad tried to stick up for himself, but quickly learned to keep his head down instead and conform and roll with it. And it wasn't just the other students who were racists, the staff was in on it too. This goes for all the shit the students are doing, the partying, the booze, the alcohol, the bullying: The staff is in on it. They know. They're complicit.

And despite all of this, Poppe's immediate answer when asked how his time at Hillerska was, is that it was the best time of his life. This is why schools like this stay the way they are, why they never change, because they're very good and very bad at the same time. Trauma-bonding works, the kids will all get friends for life, they'll forget the shit and remember the good times. They'll become like him.

But when Felice learns what the school did to her dad, she decides to help shut it down, to stop the cycle of abuse. The reason she goes in alone is because she now knows she can't trust her dad, he's gonna defend the school, and she also doesn't want him to know that she snitched.

Subtext: In official surveys, students from schools like this generally rate them very highly. Student satisfaction is very high. Maybe they're lying, maybe they're delusional, but they sure care more about their schools than public school students.

Blink and you miss it: REAL SUBTLE THERE, SHOW.

Subtext: Keeping with the school theme, this is how students defend the shit that goes on. Outsiders are kept in the dark, you don't tell them anything, because they "wouldn't understand", they're missing the "full context", etc. Oh, I don't know shit about fashion, but Fredrika's jacket smells very expensive.

Blink and you miss it: While Wilhelm pinned a polaroid of himself and Simon prominently on his wall, August keeps a similar polaroid of himself and Sara hidden.

Subtext: Micke's redemption arc is in full swing, so why not play a song that reinforces the idea that people can change?

Subtext: August's redemption arc is in full swing, so let's cut to him nervously waiting outside Micke's place for Sara to come home, while the same song is playing. Is he gonna be a villain forever?

Blink and you miss it: Micke introduces himself as Micke af Eriksson when August introduces himself as August Horn af Årnäs. The English subtitles for some weird reason went with "Micke Eriksson of Bjärstad", but that's actually not what he says.

Subtext: Sara is pretty realistic about her expectations of her dad because she's seen this before, but this also applies to her expectations of August, because she knows that he can also slide back into his normal shitty self. Also, she's wearing a purple sweater.

Subtext: In case you forgot, August's dad also struggled with addiction, and died from it, so he and Sara actually has that in common. Maybe there's hope for this redemption arc thing?

Cinematography: I don't fucking know why they included this baking scene. It serves no purpose, and I suspect quite a few people in the production have a serious hand fetish, because what is this? What is this? Also, why are Simon and Wilhelm joining what appears to be a Manor House thing with the rest of the girls? How? Why? This makes no sense! It's very cute, though!

Subtext: Oh ok, we got a social media pic that Sara could see and feel bad for her lost friendships. But man, those Hillerska aprons! On point!

Subtext: This is unfortunately a very common thing for people on any kind of psychoactive medication. How can you tell if you need medication if you feel good right now? Is it lasting or temporary? Can you trust your own brain? Either way, fantastic conversation between Micke and Sara, which starts her on her journey to reconcile with Felice at least.

🎵 I can change, I'm not the same, not forever. 🎵

Culture: The official hat-on-putting ceremony where all the third-year students put on their hats, set to another traditional Swedish spring celebration song: Vårvindar Friska.

Culture: It's Valborg, so Hillerska has their own little bonfire. We saw some students with torches pretending to light it, but it's actually floating in the middle of the fountain so, uh, how did they do that? Normally, your local bonfire or Majbrasa is just a huge heap of wood that you set on fire.

Cinematography: Man, this is a pretty show. Look at that shot. The fire, the sunset, the pool reflection. The end of April is over a month after the spring equinox, so the days are getting longer, and the sun now sets at about half past nine in the evenings.

Subtext: Ok, let's do one more on-the-nose lyrics thing for when August sees Sara back at school. Yes, yes, he needs her.

Culture: I had to post about it immediately after watching the episode, because setting a sex scene to Uti Vår Hage is hilarious. Everyone in Sweden knows it, most people have sung it at school, it's a cute little song about enjoying your garden, flowers, and giving your loved one a wreath of flowers. I can now never hear this song without thinking about this scene. Thanks a lot, show.

Blink and you miss it: Simon fucks Wilhelm. Yay! Versatile supremacy!

Subtext: Sara is still so suspicious of her dad's behaviour, she can't make herself trust that his current good period will last.

Subtext: Even though this dialogue is about how Simon and Sara are so different, it of course also applies to how Wilhelm and Erik were different, because Wilhelm struggles with not being able to handle his duty the same way Erik could.

Culture: Alright, it's time for the actual local Första Maj event in Bjärstad. The town is probably a bit small to have a proper demonstration parade, but there's people with banners and socialist slogans, and a bunch of local organisations have joined in, including Bjärstad BK, the football club Rosh plays in.

Culture: Meanwhile, the absolutely not socialist rich kids at Hillerska are nursing their hangovers and enjoying the day off, and they're doing some yoga and playing some padel instead. As you do.

Subtext: Drugs. He looks like he's selling drugs.

Culture: These apparently confused a bunch of viewers, but they're just raffle tickets. It's one hundred numbered, rolled up, paper tickets stuck on a metal ring. When you buy a ticket you just tear it off at the perforation, and when all tickets are sold you can just break the seal on the ring and pour all the stubs in a bag or whatever so you can draw winners.

Blink and you miss it: Cute kiddo has a pride pin on his jacket.

Lost in translation: The show waited a bit with showing what it says on the banner behind them in the photo, but if you can read Swedish you immediately saw that it says KROSSA ÖVERKLASSEN - CRUSH THE UPPER CLASSES. Oh no, Simon, what have you done?

Blink and you miss it: Like a pack of rabid wolves, the social-media starved Gen Z kids rush to their phones for an hour of glorious feeding on Instagram and TikTok.

Blink and you miss it: I love Vincent so much, he's terrible, but he's just so much fun! The little fist he makes as he says "kampen" just seals it.

Subtext: The show still hasn't revealed the banner text to the non-Swedish audience, but Wilhelm immediately sees it and knows how bad it is and why Farima tried calling him seven times. Also, Vincent is just on a roll here.

Cinematography: Man, this is a pretty show. Look at that shot. Look at how they perfectly aligned the hole in the window with Simon, the police car, and the entrance to their house, as he discovers that someone decided to vandalize it.

#young royals #young royals subtext #young royals analysis #young royals season 3

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lizaluvsthis · 2 months

Text

SMG4: The PuzzleVision Movie

[SPOILER ALERT and more into the ship]

VERY.

MAJOR.

SPOILER.

PLEASE.

Its funny enough how i predicted spongebob squarepants in my theory

(It even also has the ship I had a true pairing with. Squidbob.)

When old fandom meets the new fandom I'm currently in be like-

I see how they got each other's backs...

Suprised that SMG4 has done this- because last time we remembered, Smg3 is the one who comes risking his own life to save his buddy.

Now it's giving the DEJA VU moment but this time SMG3 is the one who gets saved by smg4.

"You saved me!"

Notice how different they act around their partner when they get saved?

Smg3 during wotfi 2023 AND in his recolor design during the 10 year anniversary.

He himself has pushed those things away or pushing out the soft stuff saying— "yeah yeah" or "I'd like to see you die otherwise"

BUT HIM? He still couldn't accept himself with the softness he's gained alot. He still calls his FRIEND. Baka.

(Hah idiot.)

One thing to say that it WAS AWKWARD SMG4 just looks at our guy. My man... my homie... buddy chum pal old fella amigo-

You. Are not. Okay. My man. (GAY PANIC SAYS OTHERWISE)

I know its not relevant but I drew this back in march 25 believe it or not I may have predicted this as well

Me and my brain goofing around telling me what if the gays did do that.

Anyways- back when Three lets Four carry him, as much as they both hate each other they atleast had to do it somehow inorder to escape.

Yet four could ever care less and he was still grabbing his waist at that time, and Three not giving a sh-t just looking up at the sky noticing how pretty it is.

Three... DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHOSE GRABBING YOUR WAIST RIGHT NOW??????????

Two siblings getting both of their fingers broken.

And its even in the right hand! Since Mario is immune to broken bones, Meggy however gets to be on the same place Mario has been in IGBP. NOW she gets to feel the pain what Mario may had felt.

And thus at the near end where SMG4 hits PV with a meat hammer or aka luigi- HE LITERALLY KICKED THE HEAD OUT- AND THE ANIMATION THAT MADE IT SO SERIOUS.

I think I understand his anger so much from this clip that everyone would agree.

Ever since PuzzleVision gave back everyones conciousness- he showed the Western Spaghetti and IGBP act of the crew on how emotional things became.

"And SMG4... who knew you could play an antagonist so well! High ranks for me!"

He felt so guilty. He looked down. He knew what PV was talking about.

By an antagonist' actions.

Just like how he was possessed by the goop itself, he started going crazy during that time and he let his anger get on to him.

SMG4 DID NOT WANT TO BE THE BAD GUY.

He was so scared and felt pity to himself because of that. And it was all ruined because of PV himself.

Smg4 didn't want to remember what happened during that encounter and never will.

Besides on the deal with PuzzleVision. SMG4 and Meggy's traumatic experiences weren't talked enough from their problems during the movie.

So much things are happening from the show that no one is talking much about it while watching.

"Is... is it over?"

Smg4 proceedingly cried emotionally because of the torture. He was apparently too blind enough to notice now that he realized it was him to blame. He was so dumb enough and so angry that he could cry.

Three didn't even slapped him or shut him off, he lets him cry over there due to the fact that he may need to release his emotions.

Because he knows how sentimental Smg4 became when it involves with dealing his own emotions that HE couldn't even give an advice for. But could only stay quiet.

Because at what hell of a state would he even say to SMG4 when they're trying to escape from this hell of a nightmare?

Four still doesn't accept himself, and neither does Smg3 too. From everything that happened.

Our boys are suffering enough and its hurting us like hell.

#smg4 #smg34 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #tv adware #lizafixates #smg4 x smg3 #smg3 x smg4 #mr puzzles #smg4 puzzlevision #puzzle vision

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lamentofabramo · 1 month

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Can I get an NSFW alphabet for Tobias Rogers (ticci toby) 🫶

I've been doing a bigger piece, so I might as well do something smaller like this since it's been a good while since I've posted now. (oops)

I'm basing this less on the fandom vers of him, hopefully.

Didn't proofread this much. (edit: I feel bad that I didn't acknowledge the heart, so <3 of course you can doll)

MINORS DNI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Toby obviously is one of the more caring of the creepypasta's, of course that's a low bar, but he is considerably more human than some of them. He's still gruff and fairly untalkative after the deed, yet he'd offer some water before leaving if you were just a one-off/ casual fuck.

If you were his partner however, I'd imagine he'd be more caring, still untalkative and unaffectionate, but maybe he'd hold you or hold your hand in this. Of course, he'd blame this on being unable to properly feel what he's holding, but the slow decrease in his twitches as he holds you speaks a lot more than he ever will. He's not comfortable, but he feels slightly less stress in your presence, at least until he has to leave, his mind penetrated by the voice of the foreboding presence of the ever-taller man.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) His own favourite body part would probably be his arms, he was a scrawny kid for most of his life, but you sure would start gaining muscle if you swung your axe at people who you considered worthy of it. There's probably also some scars across his arms that remind him of his life before. Of course, he'd hate that idea, but he still has some attachment to his sister, his mother, no matter how hard he may try to push it out of his head.

For his favourite part of his partners, I feel like it'd most likely be your waist. It's something for him to grab, to hold onto to remember you're real, that you're still alive against his better judgement.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) If you asked for it in a specific place, sure he'd do it if he was in a good mood. On your chest, ass, inside even. He'd risk it, he had nothing to truly lose anyway. But his favourite place would most likely be on your stomach, just the wet streaks across your stomach would do things for him. He's not sure why either, he wouldn't register that he does that almost every time unless you pointed it out to him.

If you did, he'd probably consider why for a second, his eyes widening in realization before shrugging. "Any better ideas?" he'd mumble, absently listening as he stroked himself. Toby would listen if you told him anywhere else, but… his eyes focused on that smooth surface.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He secretly wants to push the boundaries of his condition. He wants your hands around his neck, trying to choke him until it hurt. It was strange really, he had a high pain tolerance, yet he craved this pain. Maybe it was because he wanted to be normal, maybe not. He didn't want to think too hard on it, like many other things he just shrugged at the idea and continued with his life.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) Toby was definitely not an experienced guy, even before the accident where he finally became 'free' (If you could say being slenderman's lackey was free) the most he'd done was hold hands with a girl in primary school.

He wouldn't be insecure with it however, he never viewed himself as a sexual being, the most he'd ever fucked was his fist on particularly rough nights. Sure, he'd had crushes on women, but when you become a serial killer you go one of two ways. A sex maniac or a complete recluse. Unfortunately, Toby became the latter.

However, since he had a less than regular childhood, he was never able to go through the same sexual awakenings as many of his peers. Instead, that most likely came later, so when he met you he was awkward, like a teenage boy. Most of his language is through grumbles and grunts anyway.

When he realized you were stuck in his head it all changed though, his sex drive increased massively. His poor hand.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying) Cowgirl probably rocks his world, he loves that intense eye contact that comes with it. The way he looks up at you through his fringe, his mouth slightly open as he pants and grunts, is a reward in itself. However, he would get impatient, his hips thrusting up to meet yours or his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you down further on his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) If something was funny to him, then he'd smirk, like if you hid your body from him even though he was about to be deep inside of you.

When he gets further into the activity, he'd let out breathless laughs, sometimes blaming that on his tics. He couldn't help it, though, he loved the way you responded to him.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Toby probably doesn't care much about how groomed he is, sometimes he'll shave, but other than that he's got whatever going on.

He has a small happy-trail up to his belly button though, it shows when he raises his axe too high. It's a dark brown colour, just like his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect) He's probably not particularly intimate, maybe some words here or there if he feels like it, but don't overestimate him too much. He probably came inside you before he kissed you.

His cheeks pinken slightly whenever you suggest kissing, but he quickly slouches and looks away with an almost childish pout to pretend as though he doesn't care.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Like I said in the earlier one, sure he jacked off every now and again, but it was more so a way to pass the time, to get some serotonin in his ever-pleasant life. But when he gets fixated on something, or rather in your case, someone, his sex drive spikes. He wants you in his hands, in his vice, it frustrates him, so he takes this frustration out on himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He's probably degrading, mixed with praise. He's basically up for anything. He's killed someone, I'm sure a weird kink won't kill him.

However, if he does think your kinks are unusual he will take the piss out of you for it, teasing, but he still takes part in it. Its fun.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do) Wherever you want, he's not arsed, really. Against a tree sounds the most fun.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) As cheesy as this sounds, you. Maybe some aggression on your side would get him going too, that mouth of yours was lethal sometimes.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs) Like I said before, he's practically up for anything. He might not be physically aggressive for you too much, though, it'd remind him of his past.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He's a munch, if he's in the mood enough, he could probably cum from giving you head. He'd deny that though, God that'd be embarrassing.

Not only that, but he'd receive too, no doubt, Toby would find it fun to just gently tug your head up and down on his cock.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.) Toby would probably be slow but deep if he's teasing you. But if he's just fucking you, then it'd be fast, his hands pulling you down on his cock with faster speed.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Hell yeah brother. Just give him the words, he might tease you for it, but he'd never say no (unless he's in a more depressive mood).

He'd love to fuck you in the back of his car too, or masky's car. Just for the hell of it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.) He's a risky guy, but surprisingly, he wouldn't do anything that could get him potentially caught by the law. He's on the run for a reason, he's not willing to risk his freedom for a good fuck (sometimes).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?) He'd probably like to overstimulate slightly, 2/3 rounds before he's clocked out and completely dry. He'd last an average enough time, 20 minutes normally.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) Seeing your body twitch with something that isn't him would make him jealous. However, a little vibrator never hurt anyone. He'd tease you if you had any dildos or anything, though, asking pettily if he "wasn't enough" or that you were "stretching yourself out" for him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Big tease, but he always fulfils your wants. It may take a while, though.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) The only noise he really makes is grunting and whispers on how dirty you are. He's loud enough that you can hear him, but not loud enough for it to be a full-blown moan.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He does want to see how you'd look crying for him all bloodied up, most likely someone else's blood, but he's not picky. Maybe fucking you on top of a recently deceased.

But he'd never admit that.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) An average to slightly bigger man, About 6.4 inches. Probably measured it one time when he was bored, and he hung onto the .4 for his ego.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Not too high unless you exist, then…as much as he can get his hands on you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He doesn't sleep much after it, doesn't feel comfortable sleeping in front of others, even someone like you. His nightmares don't help.

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby #tobias erin rogers #tobias rogers #smut alphabet #x reader #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers

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chaepink · 1 year

Text

who loves to be marked? | sub!haikyuu boys

wc: 360+ words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, suggestive, marking, mention of begging, mention of bruises

mha boys edition

Oikawa

the fandom has dubbed him as a bratty boy but I 100% agree

loves to see the places where you marked him when he was bratty because there are tons

on his nipples, chest, definitely on his neck, and so many on his inner thighs

will definitely show them off with no hesitation so everyone knows he's yours

even admires the faded bruises on his hips from where you gripped him to either fuck him better or pull him closer to you

is definitely bratty just to get marked

Ushijima

big himbo man!! ❤️

probably pretends to hate being marked cause he gets embarrassed when another teammate points it out to him when one is visible

though you know he secretly loves it because you once caught him looking at the ones you left lovingly

probably loves when you mark his chest the most

especially his nipples!!

leave bite marks around them and make sure you bite hard so they stay there for a while

he's usually a very stoic and serious man but marking him breaks that demeanor and makes him whine for more

and how could you say no?

bokuto

loves, loves, loves being marked

definitely begs for it

he just thinks they look so pretty on him!!

you certainly don't disagree either

the red and purple mark contrasts with his pale skin and you definitely admire them after marking him

he won't even try to cover them up and his teammates definitely tease him for it

even if you're embarrassed by them he'll still be stubborn about it

why would he hide something that was from you?

tanaka

like bokuto, he will beg you to mark him

he just can't help loving to be marked all over by you

and he would be so polite with it too??

maybe he would have sensitive thighs so you would tease there a lot and bite them

has no shame in bragging about his hickeys and marks to his teammates

whenever he looks at them, it makes him blush and remember what happened that made him get it

probably likes bite marks more than hickeys

you jokingly called him freaky cause of it and he pouted at you

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

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madschiavelique · 10 months

Note

was a bit hesitant to ask this but thoughts on how Miguel would feel if reader was vv self conscious abt their body/said anything negative abt their appearance..? (talking abt this as someone who's also self conscious abt their body cuz i need to know how he would react/what he would say to the reader tbh 😭)

AAAAAAA BESTIE I FEEL YOU !! I'm part of the self conscious about their body gang - i just had to write more than just a thought on this<3

when it comes to self consciousness about my body, there's always one line from the song Paradis by Orelsan (french rapper), that says "Je comprends pas pourquoi tu t'inquiètes quand tu prends du poids. Pour moi, c'est ça de pris, ça fait toujours plus de toi." which i used in this text (clue : it'll be in italic)

summary : miguel reassures a self conscious reader on their body content warnings : comfort, fluff, miguel being a worshipper of you, genderneutral!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 739 tag list : @fandom-ash

Miguel is a man who notices details, all the more so when those details are related to you. He noticed how you looked at yourself in the mirror from time to time, how you sometimes stood on your tiptoes when you were sitting to make your thighs look less large, how some days, even when it was hot, you wore a sweater covering you completely.

You were used to wearing baggy clothes, oversized sweaters and t-shirts, baggy pants, nothing that showed too much of your curves.

He'd noticed how you'd changed your diet lately, and how the portions you allowed yourself were... far too small for a normal meal.

You were depriving yourself of your favorite snacks, and even when Miguel offered you some, you begrudgingly refused. He could see the pain in your eyes, and he couldn't understand.

Then one day, standing in front of the mirror in your underwear, you started to cry. Miguel came running straight to you, taking you in his arms as you wept silently, little jolts shaking your body.

He stroked your back and hair gently, letting the sobs take their place as you sniffled against his shoulder.

"Hey hey hey," his voice was low, as if he felt that a word or a gesture a little too strong could break you into a thousand pieces, "nena, what's wrong?" he asked, stepping back.

He wiped your tear-streaked cheeks, your eyes were reddened and your lips bulged with heartache.

"I hate my body."

His heart cracked, and he came to take you in his arms again. So that was the reason for all this, for your restrictions, for all these choices that were doing you more harm than good. He couldn't understand how you could think such a thing, because he worshipped you like the goddess or god or deity you truly were.

"I wish I just looked different," you murmured against him.

"Why?" he asked, pulling away from you again to cup your face.

"Because, I look ugly, I feel ugly..." you sighed, your brow furrowing as hot tears rolled down your cheeks.

His lips were parted, he couldn't understand how it was possible for you to feel this way, to think this way about yourself. He found you so beautiful that the very thought of you thinking that way seemed almost impossible.

"I'm not pretty enough to be with you. There are so many prettier girls and boys than me-" you began, but he cut you off, not even letting you finish your sentence.

"Don't ever say that again," he said, his tone serious and almost warning.

He looked at you, sorry and almost angry. Because he was wondering who he was going to have to correct (annihilate) for having succeeded in making you think you weren't beautiful.

"Come here," he said, lifting you with ease to rest you on the sink while you were still wiping your cheeks. "Listen to me: Your body is not the reason I love you. I've fallen in love with your soul, your qualities and your flaws... even if I'm still trying to find the flaws."

You blew out a quick laugh from your nose, a tear running down your cheek as he brushed it away.

"It doesn't make you a failure, or undesirable, or ugly not to have the body of a celebrity on the cover of a magazine." he said softly as he kissed your cheek, his hand gently caressing your thigh. "Why should you worry about gaining weight?"

"Because it makes me ugly." you murmured, but he gripped your chin between his fingers so your eyes observed the truth in his.

"No, it doesn't make you ugly," he assured. "Even if you do gain weight, for me it's a given, because it always gives me more of you."

Your chin trembled slightly, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

"No matter how long it takes, I'll make you love yourself," he confirmed. "I don't care what you look like, I'll still love you."

You smiled, tears still gently flowing, Miguel coming to place both his hands on your cheeks to clear them. You let out a little laugh:

"Even if I was a worm?" you joked.

He smiled, sighing softly.

"Yes, even if you were a worm." he laughed, kissing your forehead before hugging you again.

"Lucky worm." you whispered, wrapping your arms around his back.

"Lucky me." he whispered against your hair, stroking it gently.

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 2 months

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Has anyone asked you about erisol?

If no, then what's your opinion on them! :-)

I feel like people will be upset at me for this, but a completely platonic and completely lukewarm mutual dislike... they don't really like each other, but take no great issue with each other either. The boys are not fightingggg

So like. A common thing in fandoms is taking things at face value and not really reading any deeper into them. You see this a shitton with Eridan in general - lots of people take it 100% at face value that he's a casteist genocide liker, when it's pretty clear upon further examination that he's pretty much lying about being casteist and doesn't actually want to murder his friends. So, at face value, Eridan hates Sollux, and either wants to do spadesies with him, or go ashen with him. And so this has become a really popular ship, but the thing is... at basically every turn, the story kind of goes out of its way to point out that there's actually nothing between them. At least romantically.

See, Eridan does not actually hate Sollux, at least not to the level of pitch/ashen. TWICE before Sollux and Feferi start hanging out all the time, we see Eridan commenting on Sollux in a fairly neutral-negative way - the first time calling him "a drama machine" and noting that "it is fuckin pathetic," and the second time as "the dead guy who saved [Feferi]". And let's be clear about the former, Eridan is just kind of Like That, he's rude as fuck even about people he LIKES (calling his BFF Karkat an "assblood" and sarcastically referring to Feferi by her royal titles), so that's actually one of the less nasty things he's said about someone.

Meanwhile, on Sollux's end, he LITERALLY says "not interested" to what he perceives as pitch/ashen advances from Eridan. Like, actually just says those words out loud. Not even in a pesterlog, he actually just says those words with his mouth.

So it seems to me that there's a pretty clear case to be made here that Eridan and Sollux kind of just... don't really give a shit about each other, and probably wouldn't have interacted in any substantial way if not for Feferi's involvement. Especially because Eridan's chosen method of hitting on Sollux is with casteism, something he's already faking in the first place.

If we really want to dig into this, though, it's kind of - in my eyes - a lukewarm case of the hedgehog dilemma. They're a bit too similar, and it winds up causing them both mild pain to get too close.

They're both nihilists that kind of hate themselves. Sollux's mutated brain causes him a not-insignificant amount of discomfort, his visions of the future and of the "imminently doomed" have made him lose a lot of hope, and he blames himself for killing Aradia, something so painful that he didn't tell anyone else she died, to the point where most of the team - including Terezi and Tavros - had to find out after entering the game. Meanwhile, Eridan struggles with the perceived inevitability of a lifestyle that causes him nothing but distress, and his constant, overwhelming anxiety about it leads to constant stressing over whether or not he's "good enough"; whenever he's in severe emotional distress, he starts beating up on himself.

They also both front at being more okay with their problems than they actually are. Sollux has his 1337 hacker, two cool for you persona that he puts on, and Eridan is always trying to be the big bad sea dweller. For example, Sollux goes "I'm not trolling the humans, it's beneath me," but he's in Jade's trollslum, so the implication there is that he totally did try trolling, it went badly for him, and now he's pretending that he was always better than that. And I don't think I need to tell you how hard Eridan works to try and present himself as badass and scary and totally not deep in the throes of emotional anguish at all times.

And these are the similarities that ultimately make Erisolsprite so stable. Erisolsprite speculates that maybe the reason he hasn't exploded yet is that deep down, he loves to suffer. The truth is, there's nothing between the two that's really so objectionable that they would ACTUALLY hate each other; Eridan isn't actually casteist, and Eridan never really hated Sollux in the first place.

Neither would they bring each other any comfort or joy - Eridan doesn't have any sympathy for Sollux's baggage, since, like, what, he only killed ONE person, and was even under mind control, so it's not like it was really his fault. He's a drama machine. And Sollux wouldn't have sympathy for Eridan's problems, partially because they manifest in such cringeworthy, embarrassing ways (and Sollux is highly sensitive to not being cringe, seeing as he's always commenting on other people being embarrassing or overly earnest), and partially because - I mean, fuck it, he's a rich-ass sea dweller who doesn't need to worry about being harvested to be a battery for a living ship. And also he's an idiot.

That's kind of what their relationship is to me, you know? A tepid and lukewarm dislike. They're just similar enough to each other to understand the other, and just different enough to be like "ugh, but that guy suuuuuuuucks". It's very funny, but not really a ship, hahaha.

So what you really get from that is two guys that just kind of dislike each other. Not vehemently or diametrically enough for pitch or ashen, and not a trace of the requisite pity for flushed or pale. When you throw the two together into one sprite, it won't shut up about how much it hates itself, how each part of itself is flabberghasted by the other, and how much practically the only reason it doesn't explode is a resounding "meh."

Eridan likes to validate his despair; ironically, since it's all he's ever known, it's where he feels comfortable - and nobody would provide better doomscrolling material than the doom player. Similarly, Sollux likes to torment himself, suffering his guilt in silence, and Eridan has SO MUCH to feel guilty over. Combine them into one entity, and you have a guy who can reach SUCH levels of revelling in his own misery, you don't even KNOW.

Not that it's healthy or positive for either of them... just that it would be incredibly stable. It's their worst tendencies being satisfied by each other. Maybe that's a form of leprechaun romance, but it's certainly not a quadrant.

#homestuck #eridan ampora #sollux captor #admittedly sollux is one of the trolls i'm still working on grasping #and this post should also in no way be taken as 'stop shipping them' because idfc #ship what you want who cares hussie has already been driven away with jeering and sneering #i just was always kind of fascinated by the endurance of the ship #despite pretty much every piece of canon involving these two pointing to the fact that they just. kind of dont like each other #but in a platonic way

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oonajaeadira · 1 year

Text

Nadie Espera un Milagro (No One Expects a Miracle)

Fandom: Narcos / Javier Peña

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Reader: Sassy, confident, American ex-pat female who finds her parents a little tedious and enjoys both her independence and her job as a high-level admin at the DEA. No physical descriptions, no use of y/n.

Rating: T

Warnings: era-”appropriate” behavior of men towards women in the workplace (but a lot better than it was, Steve and Javi are actually pretty respectful). Overbearing and slightly infantilizing parents. Author doesn’t know anything about politics or law enforcement.

Summary: When your parents come to visit you at your job in Bogotá, you figure it’s just easier to paint a picture that will put them at ease. The idea is simple. The plan is flawed. The execution is just fluff.

A/N: Written for my Year of Tropes (part of @yearofcreation2023) Fake dating seemed like an easy trope for a busy month, which is why I chose it for February. (Whoops. Happy April!) With all of these tropes I like to challenge myself a little and I feel like the character choice alone for this one was challenge enough for me. Not only do I not know anything about politics and law enforcement, I haven’t written Javier much. And, of all the boys I do write, I feel like he’d be the least likely candidate to participate in and fall for fake dating, so I had to figure out how to make it believable for myself. Which is why there’s more plot than I intended and reader ended up with some backstory. This is season 2 Javi, obviously not canon, and maybe a bit too soft, so sue me for yearning. Yes, reader’s parents are cartoon versions of my own parents, why do you ask?

“Well hey there, sunshine,” a wisp of smoke accompanies Steve’s greeting as he leans back in his chair and crosses his long legs at the ankle to the side of his desk, leaning over momentarily to stub the cigarette out into a shared ashtray. “We don’t often get the pleasure of a visit–looks like you remember we exist.”

“Ha ha. I could say the same about you. Did you boys finally get your morals whipped into shape, or are you just over the thrill of making me break the law for you every other week?”

There’s a halt in the clack clack clack of Javier’s typewriter as he turns at the sound of your voice. Standing to reach across the desk, he scrubs out his own cigarette, makes a futile attempt to wave away the smoke, and watches you descend the stairs into their working arena. “Hey, Sully,” he smiles like a man not accustomed to it and rests his hands on the waistband of his ridiculously out-of-fashion jeans. “That’s a new dress.”

You flash him a grin and shake your head. “Stop. Don’t waste your flirting on me, Peña. You know I don’t need greasing.”

He only shifts his weight to one hip. There’s no response but a compliant tick of his jaw.

It’s second nature with Javier. He knows he’s good looking. Knows all he has to do is flash those puppy dogs and throw some attention, and ladies will give him anything he wants. You love it and hate it. Hate it because it’s insulting to be targeted for manipulation just because you’re a woman. But you love it because the man is Javier Peña and you’d be lying if you said those big brown eyes weren’t beautiful and you’re happy to have an excuse to have them pointed your way with warmth rather than the chill he reserves for the more bureaucratic workers. It’s a safe kind of crush, the kind you can play with as long as you never expect too much.

Javier’s been stopping by your office since before there was a Steve Murphy, buttering you up and asking for favors–access to a file here, a release stamp there–hell. You’ve expedited more requests on his behalf than all of the upper cabinet combined. And how many times have you distracted the clerk in tapes archives just so Javi could walk by and flash a request form without having it scrutinized for certification?

Every request starts the same, with his awkward little smile and an actual compliment. And every mission accomplished gains you a “Thanks, you’re a miracle worker.”

“Like Anne Sullivan?” you’d asked after the tenth or twentieth time.

“Huh?”

“Anne Sullivan. Hellen Keller’s teacher. The Miracle Worker.”

That caught him off guard. “Uh, yeah. Anne–?”

“Sullivan.”

“Right. I guess you’re an Anne Sullivan. I’d be lost in the dark without you.”

You’d allowed yourself to be charmed. “Careful there, Agent Peña, or you’re gonna make me rather fond of you.”

Nothing makes a grown man blush faster than to out-flirt the flirter. Not that it was hard with Javier. He was adorably miserable at it.

But it was always fun to watch him try…and to periodically beat him at his own game.

Once Steve landed in Colombia, you got two for the price of one. But Murphy knew you could see through his games and didn’t even try. It endeared you to him that he approached you sincerely. And you knew you could always do the same with him.

“As a matter of fact, it IS a new dress,” you chirp, twisting your shoulders one way and then the other, fluttering your lashes and fanning yourself with a hand in a mock display of coy preening. “My parents are flying in tonight and I’m taking them out to dinner.”

“I thought the trade conferences weren’t for a few days,” Steve frowns and shoots a concerned glance at his desk calendar.

“They’re not. But they’re coming through to spend some time with me and tour the city. Mixing business with pleasure. That’s…um…actually why I’m here. I need to cash in a favor.”

Javi chuckles as he settles back into his chair, throwing one heel and then the other onto the desktop. “Time to pay the piper. Name it.”

“Actually,” you cringe, turning to Steve, “I thought I’d ask Murphy here.”

Throwing a surprised but self-satisfied grin over at his partner, Steve puffs out his chest. “Well I guess I can be the hero for the day. Anything you need, sunshine.”

Thankfully Javi seems to feel the need to show he’s not offended and returns to his typewriter to peck out his report. Good. This is an embarrassing enough ask. You don’t really need witnesses to this.

“So, this is going to sound like a big deal but it’s really not. My relationship with my folks is just…complicated,” you assure him, priming the agent for the stupidest thing you’re ever going to ask for in your life. “It would make my and everyone’s life easier if I was seeing someone? Because then my mother wouldn’t bring it up and pressure me and irritate my father, and he wouldn’t worry about me here so much thinking I’m a woman all alone…it’s just…it’s…,” you sigh, irritated. “This is so dumb.”

Clackety clack clack ding whirr. You look up to see Steve gaping at you.

“Are you asking me to pose as your boyfriend?”

Silence. You’re sure if you turned to look over your shoulder, you’d see a frozen Javier, two fingers of each hand hanging above his typewriter like a little T-Rex.

Oh for a trapdoor or hand of god…. Suck it up. They owe you.

“Yup.”

“Uh….”

You expected this. “I’m not asking you to make a show or….they’re coming in tomorrow and I thought if you were here you could just meet them for a second. And if you’re not, I could just point to your desk–”

“Doll,” Steve releases a confused laugh, “I’m married, you know.”

“Yeah, but Connie’s not here. Like I said, they won’t delve. If I just point at a man, they’ll accept it and leave it alone.”

“So you’re going to lie to your parents.”

A confident nod is your first response. “Absolutely. And if you’d met them–when you meet them–you’ll understand why that’s best. Or you won’t. You really won’t get to talk to them long enough to find out. Just give a couple of handshakes, be nice and I’ll move them along. It’s that easy.”

Gritting his teeth, Steve gives a disbelieving shake of the head. “I dunno. I mean, the ruse won’t stand if they mention my name to anyone. Why me? Why not that new guy in the mail room who’s been watching you walk away?”

“Jimmy?” you scoff. “Yeah, no, not my type.”

“Really. Dark hair and pretty blue eyes and a six-pack he doesn’t mind showing off isn’t your type?”

“Wellllll, when you put it that way…sure he’s not your type?” Now it’s Javi’s turn to huff a silent laugh and you give him a conspiratorial smile before rounding back on Steve. “He’s dull, Murphy. My parents know me well enough that I’m not going to go for dull. So take that as a compliment. And he’s a bedpost-notcher. I don’t want to encourage that kind of behavior. I may be lacking in male companionship but I’m not that lonely. Yet.”

Your no-nonsense, shut-em-down tone quiets both of them and for a moment you think you’ve won. But his response makes it obvious you’re going to have to cash in all your chips.

“Still. There are enough single guys around here–”

“Because,” with one hand on the corner of his desk you lean in to conspire even though his partner is three feet away and can obviously hear you, “most of them are a bunch of lazy sit-abouts and you’re always out and busy. It not only paints a good picture, it’s the perfect excuse not to join us for dinner because my mother will do her best to insist. And,” you wheedle, lowering your voice further, “because you owe me.”

“I would counter that I owe you a lot more than he does.” Javi keeps his voice at a stage whisper in mockery of your own and shrugs as you and Steve swivel your gaze to him. “What.”

“Lying to the Assistant Trade Rep of the Western Hemisphere about intimate relations with his daughter sounds like a good time to you? You can have it.” Steve taps your shoulder before pointing at his partner. “He’s not hitched. Why not Javi?”

Rolling your eyes, you stall for time as you try to find a better answer than the truth, but when one doesn’t come, a sigh paves the way. “Because you dress more respectable than he does–”

“Hey.”

“--and my mother is judgy!,” your heartfelt insisting pushes through, doing your best to placate Javi–handsome Javi–who really does know how to keep the last decade’s fashion in fashion. “Javi, you’re lovely and you look good and I don’t want you to change. But my mother is going to take you for a ladies man, which you are, you know you are, and she’s going to pick apart your choices with wanton disapproval which is almost more unbearable for me than not being attached to anyone at all because then I’ll spend hours defending you for nothing–”

Steve and Javi finally break and their sudden laughter shuts you down. It’s all you can do not to give both of them the finger and a good ol’ fuck off.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve says through his trailing amusement, taking his turn now to placate. “Fine. We’ll make ourselves scarce and you can use the imprint of my ass in this chair as proof of warm-blooded human male. But maybe a false name, yeah? Like…Peter or…Harvey or something.”

“Harvey?” Javi scoffs. “How about Dick. Dick Bob Jones.”

“That sounds like a hillbilly name.”

“Yep.” ________

According to your mother, your apartment is “charming,” the streets of Bogotá are “interesting,” and the department headquarters are “surprisingly up to date.” In the car on the way to the office, you managed to dodge most of her questions about your personal life, dropping one-word answers before pointing out the window and explaining certain buildings or neighborhoods.

As promised, Agents Murphy and Peña are out in the field when you walk your parents past their desks on your way through to your own department. “Well,” you wave with half commitment at it and move on, “looks like he’s out doing his job and catching those bad guys. Too bad. Maybe next time.”

The crisis is momentarily averted, but while your father ducks into a nearby restroom, your mother can’t seem to let the matter pass.

“So what does he do then? He’s a cop?”

“I told you. He’s a DEA agent. He’s on the team trying to stop the drug trade from reaching the States. Have you heard of Pablo Escobar?”

She scoffs and looks past you. “Everybody has heard of Pablo Escobar, dear. That naughty man. Oh. Oh! Is that him?”

“Hmm? Escobar?” Following her gaze and turning to look back into the atrium, you’re gifted the sight of tight jeans stretching over a familiar backside and tanned arms yanking open drawers on Steve’s desk, obviously looking for something. “No, Mom, that’s just–”

But before you can correct her, she’s striding over in her Prada heels, ruffled blouse bouncing and pearls clicking, reaching forward into an eager handshake as she interrupts the very visibly hurried agent. “It’s so nice to meet you!” she chirps. “You must be Harvey!”

“Mother–!”

Javi stops digging, having found the warrant he was looking for, looking up in surprise at this forward, fussy, American woman, his lower lip hanging in a soft V, before taking her hand courteously and introducing himself, “Javi.”

“Oh, I knew I was right! The minute I saw you I knew you had to be her Harvey, you’re certainly her type.” Her hospitable countenance flickers only for a second as she takes in his tight shirt. “She says you’re quite the cop.”

“Mom, Javi’s a government agent and–” As you catch up to her, the momentary confusion on Javi’s face melts into understanding spiced with just a hint of amusement. “--and, as you can see, he’s in a hurry so–”

“It’s okay,” he beams, continuing to shake your mother’s hand. “I can take a minute to meet the woman who raised mi milagra.”

What.

Something in your brain hits the panic button and your mother chatters on to him as your backup generators whir into gear. He gives her his full attention, smiling as she babbles about how proud she and your father are of you and how nice it is that you’ve found someone to spend time with and…did he just say–

“We’ve got a lead on a collaborator and I was just ducking in to grab some paperwork,” he explains, waving the warrant in one hand. But his other hand– “What a lucky coincidence” –dips behind you– “that you happened to stop by,” –slides across your back– “because my girl here has told me so much about you,” –settles on your hip– “ma’am,” –and pulls you flush to his side.

It’s a smirk. A smirk that he has the brazen balls to grace you with then, and it’s hard to tell if he’s fucking with you or if he’s just really enjoying being your hero and sharing a joke that only the two of you know about.

And it’s equally hard to tell if you’re about to laugh or swear or….melt… he’s holding you so tightly and he smells like cigarettes and his surprisingly light cologne… his shirt is damp, your blouse is damp, it’s a humid day and you’re sticking together a bit and he wears such fitted clothes and one of his few buttons is strained enough to give you a peek at his smooth chest beneath…

“Well, if you have to go, Harvey, I don’t want to distract you from your work, but my husband is using the facilities and he’ll be sorry to have missed you. Will you be working all evening? Why don’t you come join us for dinner! You know how well my daughter cooks and she’s making her carbonara for us–”

“Mom–”

“Your carbonara?” Javi questions you before turning back to your mother and squeezing you tighter against himself, causing you to stumble closer. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Her delight is evident. “Oh wonderful!”

“If you’ll excuse me though, my partner’s waiting. I’ll see you tonight, honeybunny.”

The world tingles a moment as a mustache and warm lips bush your temple and then you’re watching broad shoulders and slim hips swagger away from you and up the stairs.

Honey…bunny? Honeybun–

Fuck.

“Javi! Wait!” You hold up a hand as you pass your mother. “Stay here for a second, I have to…I forgot to tell him… uh…”

He stops at the top of the stairs, leaning in, anticipating your quiet brand of ire. “Your mom’s sweet.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“What. Seems to be going well, I mean, apparently, I am your type, so it all works out. I think that performance down there earned me a dinner. I fucking love a good carbonarra.” The glare you serve him loses its bite under his soft smile lacking in any sarcasm or hazing. This is the Javi you know, the conspirator that finds you working late at night and is grateful for your help in the file room or in the microfiche lab, the one that noticed yesterday that your dress was new. Doing you a favor. What else would you expect? “If you want, I’ll wear baggier pants.”

“No, just…” you sigh. “I should give you my address–”

There’s a thing he does with his smile, something that gets you every time, a little jaw tick that comes with a quick downward bounce of the eyes and a single shake of the head. “Don’t need it. I know.”

“Okay, but…. Wait. What?” You call after him as he trots toward the door.

“I’ll come hungry!” _____

“Sir,” Javi bobs his head in reverence as he meets your father’s handshake. It’s above and beyond your requests, as is the cleanup of the five-o-clock shadow, the change to his black button up shirt, and his showing up on time. And in true commitment to the bit, he didn’t even knock, just came in and found his way to the dining area like he spends most of his time in your apartment.

“Good to meet you, Javi.”

“Dear,” your mother chirps from her watchful eye at your shoulder by the stove, “it’s Harvey.” She doubts herself. “It is Harvey, isn’t it?”

Completely disregarding your mother’s interjection, your dad gestures to a spot across from him at your modest dining table set for four and offers him a packet. “Sit down, sit down, agent. Smoke?”

“Ah,” Javi falters, and when you turn your head to your shoulder, you catch him checking in with you out of the corner of your eye. “She…doesn’t let me light up in here.”

“No? Heh. Well. I don’t know how she does it but it’s always been her way or no way. I see she’s worked her magic on you.”

“That’s for sure.”

You can’t help but smile as you give the noodles another good swirl in the pot and set the spoon on the counter. That little display just earned him a treat. Pulling out two glasses from the cabinet, you give a generous pour of the whiskey you picked up on the way home especially for him and bring them over to the table without a word for the two men.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” hums your father.

Javi glances at the glass, then up at you and your cocked eyebrow that queries him don’t I get a ‘thank you sweetheart’ from you too?

But oh, he came to play.

Ignoring the glass and taking your hand, his thumb skips across your knuckles. “You need any help, hon?”

There’s a microsecond between you where laughter is very very possible. The game is on. So you up the stakes by pushing a little curl of black hair behind his ear before trailing your fingers down to pinch his chin. “No, baby. You just relax and enjoy yourself.”

The smallest flush of pink and flash of panic that you catch on him as you turn away (only because you’re looking for it) tells you that you’ve won this round.

Back at the stove, your mother’s taken over, having drained the noodles and now attempting to pour the sauce into the noodle pot rather than your tried-and-true method of bringing the pasta to the sauce pan.

“Mom! Could you not–”

You see it coming a second too late, the sauce hasn’t thickened properly and a good portion of it misses the pot and splashes onto her blouse.

There’s commotion, a shriek and an overreaction, and you reach for a towel to catch the sauce before it stains, but the towel is dirty with spills and bacon grease and you’re both trying to keep the sauce pot from toppling off the stove. “Just…hold still, Mom, here…let me get a clean towel–”

“I’m on it,” Javi jumps up, heading down the hallway.

Great. Here’s another thing splitting your attention from timing the sauce. “Javi??” you call, “The towels are–”

“I know! The cabinet behind the door!”

How did he….doesn’t matter. The woman who raised you is in need of someone to mother her at the moment and you’re doing your best to calm her down before she causes even more of a mess. In a matter of moments, your stand-in man is back with a hand towel and you join her at the sink to help her dab it off.

“Oh, well this is just dandy,” she whines. “Now I have to sit here in a wet blouse in nice company…”

“It’s fine, Mom. You can wear one of mine.”

“The pink one or the blue? She can change in the bedroom,” Javi gestures, offering to show the way. “Ma’am?”

“Uh…the…blue….” This time you don’t have time to veil your shocked and confused expression. If Javi truly notices it as your mom swans by him, he doesn’t let on.

The rest of the evening is uneventful and pleasant, your father and Javi carrying most of the conversation as the older man drills the agent on the particulars of the cartels and Escobar’s influence with his communities, how it’s affecting customs and trade, and what that means for the conference your father is here to attend in his duty to the Trade Rep.

After a couple of hours, he makes it known that it’s time to get back to the hotel, that he has an early morning as his boss is flying in.

“Already? Dear! You boys spent all this time talking shop and I have all kinds of questions for Haaavi.”

“Well, my bride, you’re just going to have to wait to satisfy your curiosity. I’m sure it will keep.”

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?” Javi asks just as you take a sip of water and try your best not to choke on it. “If you’d like to try some of the local specialties, I know a place not far from here. Sancocho to die for, made fresh every day.”

The fire in your eyes is shielded, soft, but directed straight at the side of his face, hot enough that he can surely see it from his periphery if not feel the flames. The corner of his mustache rises the smallest fraction of an inch.

“That sounds a real treat, son,” your father says, rising and crushing Javi’s shoulder in a squeeze. “Tomorrow night then.”

Javi joins you at the front window when they leave so you can wave them off, having the balls to wrap his arm around your shoulder as you do. Once their car pulls away into the night though, he retracts it and ambles back to the table, gathering up a few stray plates and taking them to the sink. “Well, that went well.”

When you don’t answer, he turns to find you with a level expression and your arms folded across your chest. “What was that?”

He has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“We are going to address tomorrow night in a minute, but I’d love for you to explain to me why you know the location and the layout of my apartment, Agent Peña.”

Now he catches up, nodding slowly and returning to you at the window. With one hand on a hip and the other pointing to the nearest streetcorner, he explains, “Did you see that car that pulled out of there after your parents? Security. I sat in a car in that exact spot for three weeks after you were appointed to the agency. Couple days while you were at work,” he waves a hand, gesturing to the apartment as a whole, “I spent quite a few hours in here on a deep scan for taps.”

Now it’s your turn to carry the surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Standard procedure for government employees to be shadowed for a probationary period, eliminates the suspicion of inside involvement. You got a deluxe security detail treatment on top of it because…well. Your…family’s connection to Washington.”

He’s kind enough to wait for you to process this. “Wait. You mean,” peering outside at the location he indicated, noting the straight-line view into your living room, “you watched me? For three weeks???”

He turns back in search of his glass. “You dance when you’re happy. You could stand to be happy more often.” Giving you the time it takes for him to pour another finger of whiskey to stew over this, to grind through the gears of your mind and work out if you might have done anything embarrassing under the gaze of the DEA, he finally assures you, “Don’t sweat it. You’re usually a stickler for keeping your curtains closed. It was about as uneventful as a watch is possible to be.”

“So this is what they pay their agents to do? Babysit a government employee’s daughter? That seems below your pay grade.”

He downs the drink and shrugs. “I was lower on the pole back then.”

“Not that low.” But then…. The jaw tick presents itself again. His lack of eye contact confirms a sudden suspicion. “My…father paid for it.”

His nod hangs silent and sorry between you.

Independence. That’s why you took this job. Something you thought you could do on your own without your father’s help, run away from America, go live abroad and work somewhere new, somewhere exotic. How naive to think–for three years now–that you’ve done all this on your own.

The embarrassment burns.

Javi slowly runs a finger over a plate, raising a dollop of sauce to his tongue. “This is good. You’re a hell of a cook, Sully.”

It’s meant to lift your spirits, make you feel accomplished at something in your life. It’s appreciated.

“Thanks. It’s not that complicated.” Moving past him into the kitchen, you pick up your tongs from the counter and quietly start heaping half of the leftover meal into a bowl. “What’s this place you’re taking us to tomorrow? You’ve seen what a holy terror my mom is about food.”

He comes to lean against the refrigerator. “Dos Rosas Cocina.”

“I know it. Good choice. Atmosphere’s… rustic, but the food’s amazing.” Tying the bowl up in a clean towel and placing it in his hands, you sigh, all the stupid, terrible tension you didn’t know you were holding this evening seeping its way out. “I can’t believe you’re electing to spend more time on this little act.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t remember thanking you, but thank you.”

“What’s this?”

“Leftovers. Lunch. Enjoy.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“You’d better.”

Later, after the dishes are done and the leftovers stowed, you curl up on the couch with the novel you’re battling your way through. But not a single page is turned. An hour goes by as you think through the interviews and steps you took to get this job, to land your working visa, to find this apartment in a nice part of town, how easy it had all seemed at the time, how accomplished you’d felt. And then there was that little look of realization and regret in Javi’s eye. That he knew. That he was the one that slipped and let you figure it out, that he never told you before. That nobody told you before. Had you come off as stupid in that moment? Innocent? Naive?

You need to confront your father about it. Probably not tomorrow, not in front of Javi. But soon.

Dammit.

You’re not getting any reading done so you turn off the light and head to bed.

Your pajamas are folded and the bed’s been meticulously remade.

Of course.

No wonder it took longer than it should have for your mother to change her blouse.

How is it you get to be a grown ass adult and your parents will never see you as anything but their little girl, even at this age?

________

“Soooooo, how’d you two meeeeet?”

Having arrived early at Dos Rosas Cocina, Javi already has a drink in him, so your mother’s question earns a contented smile. “Well–”

“At work, Mom. Obviously at work.”

It’s not a lie. It was at your desk. He needed something notarized and your new stamp hadn’t arrived yet so he wrote his direct extension on your desk pad, asked you to ring him when it did. You remember thinking that his eyes wandered too much but couldn’t be mad when you realized yours must have too if your first impression was that his pants were a good fit.

Later that night you’d come here, to the Cocina, charmed by its walls lined with picture frames full of the owner’s ancestors and descendants, how it seemed to be the center of time itself reaching backward in it’s colorful mountain-style decor and forward in its state of the art cashier’s computer and cd jukebox.

The owner had served your meal himself and sat down to chat with you, to practice his English, he said. It was a slow night and you had nowhere to be and he put you at ease right away.

“Dos Rosas,” he explained, “it means two roses. You see the sign? One red, one white. You know what it means?”

You shook your head and smiled, mouth full of some heavenly empanada.

“The red rose is for love. The white rose for friendship. Dos Rosas is a place my father made where he wanted guests to come with love and friendship.” And then he produced a single white rose, slipping it into the vase on the table. “For your luck. You are welcome here, friend. Someday you will bring someone who will share a red one with you, si?”

It had been a favorite place ever since.

Javier had been there that night too, now that you remember it. Sitting in the dim corner away from the basket lamps, nursing a beer and a plate of arepas, the curtain of his cigarette smoke nearly hiding him from view. Back then he was just the agent who needed some papers stamped and who just happened to be at the same restaurant that night.

Hindsight and new information reframes the nearly-forgotten memory now. Of course. He must have been tailing you then.

“I think,” Javi says as he drapes an arm across the back of your cane chair and leans in, “she understands where, milagra. But what she wants to know is that I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

Your response comes with a sweet smile that hides a challenge. “I know. You watched me for three weeks straight.”

“And then some.” He doesn’t let your jab throw him off the act. “And then there were the times I had to get into the file room for nothing in particular, just a reason to come down and talk to her.” On the contrary, he hooks a foot around the leg of your chair and yanks it closer to his own, effectively throwing you against his chest. “She used to laugh at my flirting; made fun of me, thought I wasn’t serious.”

The clench of your stomach, the cold wave of your blood pressure dropping, every method your body has to signal and react to danger begins to take over as Javi keeps you locked from pulling away with one arm, hazy smile inches from your face, his heavy-lidded gaze dropping to your mouth.

A warm hand folds gently over one of your own, floating it upward, his fingertips guiding your palm until he ducks his head half an inch to meet your knuckles to his lips. Big brown eyes beg at you and that cold wave rebounds now as a hot tsunami.

And all you can do is stare, stare at this display of tenderness that seems so very unlike the Javier Peña you know. Gone is the indifferent agent, the shielded ego, the preference for solitary. As his kiss lingers on your hand just a second longer than necessary, you get a glimpse behind the curtain to the man beyond. For one moment you witness a vulnerability and care, a fleeting tease of what it must be like to have his perfect attention, his devotion. It’s literally breathtaking.

And then something in him stalls, shifts, as if he notices the same in you.

Is he going to kiss you? Should you kiss him? Right here in front of your mother? Why is he so warm? What is that amazing cologne? Is his shirt unbuttoned further than usual? Is that a cymbal roll in the music coming from the jukebox or is that your blood rushing in your ears? Does he always breathe this forcibly? How have you never noticed that little crease in his bottom lip or realized just how dark his eyes were?

Just as his tongue flicks forth to wet his lips, your father returns from the phone booth in the back.

“Well, false alarm. Seems the ambassador just had some bad fish, but it’s passing. Conference is still on.”

Oblivious to your predicament and drawing your mother’s attention, he’s happy to answer her questions regarding the type of fish and how long it was prepared, and she offers her wisdom to nobody in particular as to preventing such a thing as food poisoning. Neither of them notice as you slowly twist yourself out of Javi’s loosening clutches and both of them obviously assume your hasty retreat has more to do with wanting to powder your nose than calm your racing heart.

The restroom is one small room, looking like a much older sibling to the restaurant itself as if it had been built first and the rest of the building added later. You count fifteen cracks in the wall over the solitary, rust-stained toilet before a knock falls on the door, momentarily spiking your softening anxiety. It’s an old man’s voice enquiring in Spanish if you’d fallen in.

You’re far from convinced that you’re ready to face or deny whatever’s going on in your heart. But you wash your hands–one of them still stubbornly holding the tingle of Javi’s lips and mustache against it–surrender the room, and find your way back to the table where the man who is not your boyfriend leans forward on his elbows, spinning stories for your parents.

“But we’re zeroing in on him now. He’s made more than a few mistakes and we’ve just barely caught them by turning around at the right second. It’s only a matter of time.”

A smile pulls wide over your father’s face as he leans back in his chair. “That’s what I like to hear. Damn, son. I admire your tenacity. We’re lucky we have talented young men like you down here catching the bad guys.”

“And we’re also lucky to have you here looking after our daughter,” your mother helps.

“Thanks, Mom, I can take care of myself. I mean, that is,” To one side, you feel Javi’s focus tilt your way, “as long as Dad’s willing to pay for it, I guess.”

Silence blankets the table as the waiter sets down four bowls of sancocho, a plate of flatbread, a candle, and a red rose in a vase in front of you all before hastily retreating.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Staring at the rose and trying to sort out your thoughts, you’re not sure why you chose this moment to bring up the subject. Maybe your body is just in fight or flight mode and perhaps you’re diverting your fluster to this deep-seated frustration. Something is shaking the cage of your heart and wants out, wants to cause some damage–

–but Javi’s hand comes to a gentle rest on your knee, soothing whatever savage beast had awakened, somehow turning frustration and fear into calm strength instead.

“I know about the money, Dad. I appreciate the help, I really do. But it’s okay. You don’t have to pay anyone to babysit me and pull strings just to make my life easier here. I came to Colombia to challenge myself. I can’t do that if you’re sneaking in and slapping training wheels on me all the time.”

For a split second it looks as if he’s going to deny it, play dumb. Instead, he softens.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ll have to forgive me. Your mother and I can’t help but look out for you. It’s what we’ve done all your life. It’s a hard habit to break.”

The confirmation stings, but you can’t deny that you set yourself up for it. “Did you do the same for Kennie?”

“Your sister has a husband and a family. She doesn’t need us to look after her anymore.”

A frustration wells up inside, burning, humiliating, full of futility. It doesn’t matter what you accomplish, how many times you have to prove yourself, they’re just not going to change. They’re never going to overcome what their generation has held as truth all their lives, even past the recent wave of feminism and push for equality. They’ll never ever see you as complete unless there’s a man involved. There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.

And perhaps that’s the conclusion that makes Javi’s actions feel like the only heroic course as he rubs a side hand over your back and explains, “Sir, you don’t have to worry about her. She’s capable. Thriving. She’s in no danger here. If there were any threat at all, she could hold her own. And even so, I’d do my best to make sure trouble never came near her.”

“Oh, Haaavi. You’re so good to her. She’s so lucky to have you.”

With a defensive flick of a hand, he continues. “It’s not luck, ma’am. And it’s not goodness. It’s simply part of my job. Even if she was nothing to me but another clerk that’s too smart and too bold for her position, I’m an agent first. As a U.S. citizen and employee of the DEA, I’m going to put her life before my own. With all due respect–and I’m sorry to be so blunt–but to doubt that she or any American isn’t safe here is an insult to Colombia, to me, and all government agents on a professional level.”

The hard drag of conviction in his tone. The realization on your parents’ faces. The understanding sinking in. The steadying warmth of his arm around you.

“But she doesn’t need me. She doesn’t need anyone. Most self-sufficient and confident woman I’ve ever known. I’m the lucky one; lucky she’s bored enough to keep me around. Must be for entertainment.”

Wow.

And all at once, you regret that you hadn’t taken the chance to kiss Agent Javier Peña. ________

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a ride back to her apartment, son? It’ll be faster.”

“Thank you, sir, but I’d like to walk her home.”

Javi takes your hand in his, waving at your parents with the other, and quietly pulls you away from the car window down the dark street toward your place.

Half a minute later he’s still silent. And still holding your hand.

It feels awkward not to let go. And yet rude to do so. So you find a middle ground and squeeze instead, “Thank you. For that. Back there. I hate that I have no power to convince them of my autonomy on my own, but I think they just needed to hear it from…”

Who? A man? A government employee? A “cop”? A workaholic who is cranky most of the time because he disregards his own health and safety and refuses to sleep in his never-ending quest to quash every last cokeslinger within a thousand-mile area?

His nod and squeeze in return says he knows. “You know it’s love, right?”

Your heart trips over his words. “What?”

“Your parents love you. Doesn’t matter how old you get. Doesn’t matter how far you run. Doesn’t matter how long the flight is and how repulsive they find the local guaro, they’re gonna love you.”

In the shared laughter that follows, your hands naturally part and you double over, remembering the look on your mother’s face after tasting the aniseed liquor Javi ordered for her.

“It was so beautiful!” you crow. “She tried so hard to smile and be polite…and the tears! You could almost see the fumes pushing out of her tear ducts!!!”

“It broke my heart to do it to her, but she insisted I order for her–!”

It’s not often you see Javi laugh and smile–really smile–with unrestrained joy. Playful smirks, weary grins, the occasional shy blush perhaps, yes. But it’s not until this moment that you see him genuinely happy. It takes years off him, as if he’s shed responsibility like a coat and gone skinny-dipping into life for a minute. His eyes crinkle deeply when he truly smiles, they shine and sparkle. Like stars on this dim street.

The giggles and chuckles continue as you near your block and it’s in a resurgence of his that he casually just reaches out and takes your hand again, as if dropping it had been a little mistake that needed correcting.

And suddenly, it doesn’t feel so awkward. It should be, but it’s not. It’s like you both decided it doesn’t have to be and yet, it doesn’t have to mean anything either. If anything, a shared happiness. A familiarity.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

“Hmm?” His attention is slowly returning to the street, constantly scanning, every second a chance to gather information, find the next piece of the druglord puzzle.

“This. Being the perfect boyfriend. Having someone’s parents just think the god’s ass of you for once. Playacting chivalry.”

That last bit sobers him. “Yeah, well, at least I can put on a good show.”

There’s something in the response that rings…tired. You’ve hit on some old hurt, some buried regret. Knowing Javi, addressing it would only cause him to close off and dig it in deeper.

“Well, I’m enjoying it. I feel like I’m getting good value for all of the favors I’ve done for you and prettyboy Murphy. You’re good at this. A girl could get used to it. That story you told my mother about how we met? Let nobody tell you that you don’t go above and beyond in every way, Agent Peña.”

You can’t see the little grin that pulls at the far corner of his mouth, but you know it’s there. An eyebrow cocks. “So you’re saying my tab’s clear? I can put in a new order to the miracle worker?”

“Order up,” you laugh. “After all, now that I know Dad’s pulling strings, who’s gonna fire me? Bring your worst shenanigans!”

It doesn’t have quite the reaction you expect from him and he stops just short of the steps to your apartment building, deep grooves forming between his brows. “You know, it’s not unusual; landing any job has a lot to do with who you know. Keeping it is the part that’s all you. Even if you didn’t get it on your own, you still made it your own.” When you can’t seem to meet his eyes, his tone softens. “You’ve got a lot to be proud of here. Why did you feel like you had to perfect some image of your life by toting me around?”

Flustered, you scoff and jump at the chance to dodge the question. “I’ll have you remember that I asked Steve, not you. You’re the one that jumped at a free meal.” It doesn’t work. His stance demands an honest answer, his face says it’s required more for your sake than his. “It’s… a long story. There are checkboxes in my family… my sister got married and had kids and I never did. I never really felt it was important… or that anyone would put up with my attitude. i’m not exactly the picture of perfect wife material. I mean, of course I’d like to find someone someday, but it’s never been the main goal… but my parents–”

“I couldn’t do it,” he says. Not an agreement; an admission. Simple. “I walked away from the altar. Left her standing. It just felt like there was a responsibility there to be ‘the husband’, and–like you said, same thing–check off the boxes. I didn’t know if I could check off the same ones everyone else thought were necessary.”

It takes a moment to say anything. To move past the fact that he’s just confided a piece of his past and his personal life to you. That he’s let you in. It explains a little about why he doesn’t get close to anyone, why he prefers feminine relations without hangups. Which makes this admission very weighted and precious. You see that he trusts you not to judge. And perhaps it’s his way of letting you know that you’re not alone in dodging the tried-and-true life path.

“Everyone had expectations. You thought you couldn’t be a good husband. So you ran away to join the DEA because you knew you could do that spectacularly.”

Now it’s him that can’t look at you. “I wouldn’t say that I’m doing that well–”

“Javi.” That catches his eye. “You’re a damn good agent. I know you’re going to get the job done. Why the hell do you think I’ll jump at the chance to break every rule in the goddamn department to help you do it? Like I said. Who’s gonna fire me now if I do?” Something shifts in him, like he’s been slapped or sharply woken. As if it’s something he’s been needing to hear and didn’t have the right person to tell him. You’re suddenly honored to be that for him. He needs it. And so you gift him a little more. “Obviously you don’t have to do everything by the book to be good at something. Look at the past couple of days. Thank you for being nice to my folks. And for the encouragement. That’s all it takes sometimes, you know? You’ve been a damn good stand-in boyfriend. Your little stunts included, you asshole. That’s what made it fun. I’m sure you would have been a great husband.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it with a tick of his jaw. Regrouping, he gives you a pained look to say, “I’m sorry that you feel you were lied to…with the surveillance and all. And that’s how you found out. I meant what I said back there, Sully.” He swallows. “All of it.”

It’s so serious and vulnerable, an obvious effort for him to say. He’s a good man, Javi. You’ve read the reports. You’ve heard the rumors. He may keep others from getting too close, may come off as flippant and impatient or pour his focus into his work. But his moral center is pointed in the right direction and he’s the first person to discard his own needs in favor of someone else.

It’s probably what overwhelms him–caring about others but not allowing anyone to care for him–bubbles up so far that he has to visit his girls to vent it. He says they’re his informants, everyone’s heard that, but nobody buys that’s all it is. He needs to be cared for, but the money keeps him safe, keeps the lines drawn. It’s an exchange he can allow himself to make.

Something about that suddenly twists your heart. You could ask him in. You could take care of him. It’s tempting. It’s what he needs.

But you’re not sure if the inevitable fallout and distancing is what you need right now. It would be too easy to want him to stay.

It’s fine to fall in love just a little with Javier Peña, as long as you don’t expect too much.

Instead, you squeeze his hand. Big and warm and gun-callused. “I know you did. Good night, hero. Thank you.”

He lets you go, this transaction settled. Doesn’t ask anything more. As you expected. The perfect gentleman. When he puts his mind to it.

________

You’ve lost count of your yawns.

Even though you brought leftover carbonara for lunch the following day, you need to escape. There’s twice as much work with the ambassador’s conferences, more calls coming through and the agents and policia all have their regular requests. And you didn’t sleep soundly the night before; something whining at the back of your mind, like something forgotten or missed… Every form and file feels like an effort and you’re just so out of it. If your mother were to stop by and take you out to lunch–a real possibility–that would just be too much.

Half an hour in the outdoor cafeteria should help, even if it’s another hot day. Air and sunshine are usually good revitalizers. And you can hide in the crowd.

Or so you thought. Just as you’re settling in with a bowl of rice and veggies, a long shadow falls across your bench and you look up to see broad shoulders and dark hair.

But the eyes you meet are blue.

“Hi, Jimmy.”

“Well hey there. Mind if I join you?”

Without waiting for an answer he perches on the bench next to you with his sandwich and starts talking. About nothing. About the heat. How it’s hot here, how it was hot back home in Arizona but nothing like the hot here. Humidity. Dry heat. Sweat. How he once baked a cookie on the dash of a car parked in the sun. How he never understood the calculations between fahrenheit and celsius, just that one is higher and one lower. Something about mercury in thermometers.

You stop listening after a minute and just chew and smile and nod. You’re not that lonely. Yet.

There’s a little old man who sells flowers from a bucket, sets up a little stall on the sidewalk across the other end of the courtyard. He’s out here most days. He’s out here today. Carnations, chrysanthemums, birds of paradise, roses…

You should get some flowers for your desk. Something nice. Might wake you up a little. You watch absently as the flower man speaks to someone in a tan shirt. A man with dark hair like so many others here. He looks like Javi from the back.

You’d rather not think about Javi’s back. Or front. Or deep brown eyes.

So you listen to Jimmy ramble for a while before he finally asks you a question.

“Don’t you think it’s hot?”

“Yeah, Jimmy. It’s hot.” _______

“I’ll take one red and one white, por favor.”

The little old flower man’s smile is even warmer up close.

On your way back into the office you muse that you’ll put the roses in a vase and let them decide for you, depending on which one lasts longer. Do you really feel the need to entertain the possibility of infatuation? Or can you be content with the easy friendship you have?

But upon arriving at your desk, you find that your little bouquet will be unbalanced and one of the two choices will have twice the advantage.

There’s already a red rose laying on the credenza.

Next to a bowl that held carbonara leftovers when last you saw it.

And a note. Fast scratches on a torn piece of yellow steno paper. Probably from the ripped piece on your desk. Next to your pen.

“I meant all of it, Sully.”

Suddenly the clack of keyboards and whine of printers and ring of phones fades away. You lift the little note to read it again. “All of it.” As if the words aren’t enough, as if you need more empirical evidence–or maybe because it was with the flower–for some odd reason you bring it close to your nose only to confirm what you knew you’d smell there.

Rose. And cigarettes.

All of it? That’s the last thing he said last night. I meant what I said back there, Sully. All of it.

It had been a heartening thing to hear, reinforcing how he would protect and serve, how he thought you were competent and confident, but why remind you now–

Oh.

Oh. Not just that part.

All of it.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. And then there were the times I had to get into the file room for nothing in particular, just a reason to come down and talk to her. She used to laugh at my flirting; made fun of me, thought I wasn’t serious.”

Suddenly you understand what was keeping you awake last night.

The look on his face as he stood by your steps. The way he rethought the words before he spoke. It wasn’t easy for him. He tried to tell you and you just…

All of it.

You just thanked him and walked away.

He’s been…this whole time…he’s…

“Darling?”

Yanked from one confusion to another, you turn to find your mother rounding your desk–even though you told her not to, that only government officials are supposed to be around your files–coming to take your hand.

“Your father and I are going on a tour of the city with the Representative. I dropped by to see if you’d like to join us.”

“Hi Mom. No… no, thanks. I’m…swamped today. I’m sorry.”

She coos, worriedly. “Are you alright? You seem tired. Those are pretty…”

Blinking down at the roses in your hand and stepping slightly to the side to shield her view of the third on your credenza, you agree, “Yeah, just tired today. It’s the heat. Here,” handing her the flowers, you smile. “The red one is for you. Please give the white one to the Representative’s wife. I hope you have a nice tour.”

“Oh. Thank you, dear…but…how did you know I was coming?”

“I didn’t. There’s a nice old man who sells them. Sometimes I buy some to cheer up my desk.”

“You’re buying your own flowers? We should stop by Haavi’s desk and tell him he needs to do that for you.”

“Oh. No need. He does.”

Once she’s on her way, you swing out to the atrium, but find Steve and Javi’s desks unoccupied. There was talk of a situation on the east side of the old town, no doubt the whole department will be out most of the afternoon.

Good. Maybe you can get some work done.

Still carrying the note, you flip it over on Javi’s desk and scribble five words with the same pen–

You know where I live.

–tuck it under his typewriter with just the tiniest corner sticking out, and head for the coffee room. One cup and three more work hours should shrink that stack of paperwork on your desk.

If you can just shut it all out and concentrate.

And try not to expect too much. ________

The door to your apartment is unlocked when you get home. Well, he certainly jumped at your note.

It shouldn’t surprise you. There’s got to be department keys in some file somewhere. After all, how could he have done all that snooping around when you first got the job?

Dropping your bag and keys on the table in the hall, you head for the main room. “Javi? You here?”

Heart ramming against your ribcage, you emerge into the apartment…

…and find your parents seated at your dining table. Waiting.

“Mom. Dad. How…how did you get in?”

“Your father talked to the landlord. It wasn’t difficult, dear. We wanted a word.” Even though there’s an endearment, your mother’s tone is anything but.

“Okay. That’s kind of excessive. You could have just swung by my desk, you know where I–”

“This is a more delicate matter and we thought you might appreciate the privacy,” your father grumbles. “Sit down, sweetheart.”

There are two things on the table. Your mother’s purse, and a box of tissues. Not the brand you own. Provided for.

“I don’t think I will. What’s going on?”

They share a glance, a starting gesture as if to choose who will begin, even though it was always going to be your mom.

“We had a very nice tour of the city today. We saw the opera house and the capital. It’s a beautiful city. You must really like it here–”

“Representative wanted to go into some of the deeper parts of the city,” your father interrupts, already going off book it seems, “to see the neighborhoods that really reflect the majority economy, get a feel for the true people of Colombia.”

What’s this all about. There’s a silence. Of course there is. They’re waiting for you to prod them. “The old town. I know it. It can get rough, but mainly only if you’re already involved in something shady.”

“Well, there’s plenty that’s shady there, I’ll tell you.” Your mother’s nose lifts more than slightly. “Did you know that it’s crawling with brothels?”

“I do, actually. There are a lot of women who don’t have any other way–”

“Well, Haavi certainly knows about those brothels. We saw him coming out of one today.”

Oh. Shit.

Wait. What?

Fuck.

Your mother continues, something about being sorry to be the one to tell you, something about your heart and how it must be breaking, how it’s hard to be lied to….

The tissues sit on the table, a pretty pink box with daisies on it. They expect you to break down. Cry. How good of an actor are you?

“...and if you want to come home for a while, you know you are always welcome–”

Not good enough.

“Javi’s not my boyfriend, Mom.”

The silence that follows is thick, it mingles with the humidity, curdles it like cream in the air. You let it sit until it sours.

“He posed for me so you wouldn’t worry about me here. Like you always do. As if I could never make it on my own without someone.” Their shock sustains. The quieter they become, the easier it gets. “And Javi went along with it because he works with me. Day in and day out. If anyone ever thought I was in danger here, or couldn’t hack the agency, he’d be the first to say so. And I trust him.” Your mother opens her mouth to run her tongue, but you cut her off at the pass. “I trust that man. Yes, you saw him coming out of a brothel, but I’m not his girlfriend and he’s there for his job. Those women sleep with the people Javi’s trying to catch. It’s a brilliant tactic, actually. And they trust him too. Because he is good to them. He’s a good man; one of the best I know and deserves respect. He takes care of them and protects them as much as he would anyone else. You should have seen what he did for this girl Helena–”

It’s here that you notice something out of the corner of your eye and turn to find Javi standing silent in the hallway, still close enough to the door that your parents can’t see him around the corner into the room. But you can. Wide eyes. That tight fitting tan shirt. Slightly off balance as if he came to a stop immediately at the knowledge of walking in on something.

Why do you feel….caught?

“Anyway,” turning back to your parents with a sigh, “I appreciate your concern. But you don’t have to be. Not about him, not about me, not about anything. I’m sorry I lied. It just seemed…easier. Because you have never just believed I was fine. I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Like Javi said the other night, I’m thriving here. Even if he was posing, everything he said was true…”

But if everything he said was true…

A glance to the hallway finds it empty again. Even if the door is slightly ajar.

“Well. You can’t blame us for wanting the best for you, sweetheart. You’re never going to stop being our daughter.”

“I know, Dad. You keep saying that. It’s right there on my birth certificate.”

“There’s no shame in accepting help if it’s given freely and if it helps you achieve a goal.”

“I understand that, but I really wish you’d told me about it rather than let me think I did it all on my own. Do you understand how that feels? To be lied to?”

Your mother huffs. “I do now.”

Thank god for office coffee. Without the edge taken off of your exhaustion, you might have had more bite. But for now, you’ve said what was necessary and you’re not up for a fight or managing their feelings; you have enough of your own to sort out. If they care about you as much as they say they do, they’ll let what you’ve said sink in and not push the matter.

“Are you flying out tomorrow morning or afternoon?”

“Tomorrow morning, sweetheart.”

You nod and move into the kitchen. Seems they do care. You have to give them credit. “Okay. Do you want some dinner? I’ve got leftovers.”

“We have a dinner scheduled with the ambassador.”

“Well good. I’ve had a long day and I’m really tired. I probably wouldn’t be good company anyway. You’re coming back in for the trade agreements in January?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good. I’ll get to see you for a whole week then.” The sad smiles you exchange with them signal that everything’s going to be okay. For now.

There are hugs and kisses, a wish for safe travels and a promise to call in the coming days. Your mother apologizes loudly for cleaning your bathroom mirror. Your father apologizes softly for your mother’s volume. This time, you walk them all the way out to the street.

Your mother’s halfway to the car when your father doubles back, digging in his pocket, just barely remembering to give you the key he got from the landlord.

Or maybe he didn’t really forget.

“Your mother and I are proud of you, sweetheart. I’m sorry if we gave the impression that we weren’t.”

“Thanks, Dad. It’s good to hear.”

“I should have said it sooner.” He hovers as your mother gets into the car. “You tell Javi that it was nice to meet him. And that we’re proud of the work he’s doing here too.”

There’s something in the way he tells you this. Another apology. Or a knowing. You’ve never been sure with Dad.

“I will.”

As they pull away, waving, your plan is to go collapse on your couch and just be alone for a minute.

As you come back into your apartment, you have to amend that plan to collapsing on your couch next to Javier Peña.

“Hey.”

“You heard all of that?”

He doesn’t answer the question. You sink in, lean back, let your eyes close. He sighs.

“You mind if I smoke?”

“I do, actually. You know I do. And I don’t have an ashtray. There’s still some whiskey if you want though. Knock yourself out.”

The couch shifts a bit as he gets up. The pop of cabinet doors. The clink of ice against glass. After a few seconds, the couch shifts again and a cool tumbler slides gently against your hand.

You open your eyes to ice water.

“Thanks.” You take a long drink, not knowing what to say. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I never do. Bed’s too big. Sleep better when I’m not alone.” When you look him in the eye, he knows enough not to turn away. “One of the girls was called into one of Escobar’s regular haunts. Didn’t see him, but got a good look at some clients he’s courting. It was info worth delivering a retainer. And a final thanks.”

You do your best to keep your hope from shining through your cracks. “Final thanks?”

“Yeah. For all the…help in the past couple of years. Told them there’s a woman I’d like to spend some time with. Get to know better.”

The sly smile spreading across your face will not be contained. “Really. You told your informants that you were shoving off to the boring world of dating.”

“No. But I did let them know that if there’s a next time I darken their door, I won’t be in a very good mood. I don’t have a Jimmy to turn to if this doesn’t work.”

“Oh. So that was you today in the courtyard. That’s what inspired this? You jealous of Jimmy?”

“Nothing to be jealous of. He’s not your type. But. It might have sped up the process.” When you don’t laugh at that, he sighs. “Listen. I’m not good at this.”

“Yes, you are, I told you that you arrrre,” you yawn and go after another sip. “But I’m the one who’s going to be cranky and crap at it unless I take a nap. I’m sorry. It’s been a day.”

“Can I join you?” His dark eyes search yours as you empty the tumbler.

There’s something like a hope there. And something else, not quite an apology, not quite yearning, a worry that he’s going to do this right or die trying and he waited far too long to start.

Like he’s fighting the urge to expect too much.

“I said a nap, Peña.”

“Good. We were called in early. I could use it.”

It comes naturally. A smile. A matching smile. A whispered okay. He leans forward and slowly, softly, presses his lips to yours. Lingers a moment. Traces your nose–one side then the other–with his own.

“And what happens when we wake up?” you ask quietly in the space between you, in the space before the next slow, lingering kiss.

Javi stands, wraps three fingers around your glass and lifts it gracefully out of your grasp. Setting it on the end table, he reaches for your hand to help you up. “This is technically the third date, isn’t it? We could just…check off the usual boxes.”

“I think we established that I don’t especially love to do everything by somebody else’s rulebook.” Using the inertia of you coming off the couch to pull you straight into his arms and into a deeper kiss--one full of holding breath and clutching fingers--he chases it with a nip to your lip, which coaxes a chuckle. “But I’m open to actually following some rules for once. Especially the good ones.”

“Good. I think it’s time I worked you a miracle or two.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you. Well, lead the way. You obviously know where the bedroom is…”

He smirks, guiding you by the hand. “I’ll give you the tour.”

________

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

#narcos fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #year of tropes #javier peña x fake dating

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peachypede · 5 months

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I will never not be bitter about how Kamado is portrayed as an shitty guy in the fandom and Volo is uwu pretty boy he was just feeling angsty when he tried to destroy the world and kill protagonist with giratina uwu

Rant below

Kamado, yes, made a horrible decision. He had his reasons. He saw his whole village destroyed by pokemon when he was young and never wanted that to happened again, Beni says they watched their family and friends DIE, so he gave in to his paranoia and banished the protagonist. It’s not an excuse, but he has his reasons for doing so.

And what does Kamado do when he realizes he’s wrong? The man get down on his hands and knees and BEGS your forgiveness. He does the Dogeza, the bow in Japanese culture that is the ultimate form of apology and respect to the other person. Kamado eats dirt and is basically saying “I fucked up so bad and I am so very, very, very sorry.” The Dogeza also is performed to show high respect, so Kamado is basically telling you as well that you far surpass his position. Your emperor levels of worthiness and strength. I think the amount of how embarrassing and humble this pose is is lost to people in the Western culture but this is a BIG apology and possibly even the BEST apology Kamado could gives since it’s an apology beyond words. He also apologizes to everyone else, telling them they were right and he was wrong.

"I acted on ill-considered presumptions and drove you from the Galaxy Expedition Team, forcing you to face great hardship alone…”

And you change Kamado. He becomes more willing to delegate and work with other people. He follows your lead. Hell, he has a line after you beat him on Prelude Beach where he basically calls you a god, that’s how much this dude respects you now.

"Perhaps you are a divine being yourself, sent to bring us gifts from above…”

The guy takes no credit for the victory on mount coronet, he says it’s all you!

"I know I've no right to say this... But we are truly fortunate to have been able to count you among the Survey Corps' ranks. If you had not joined us, we would have fallen on Mount Coronet. We would have lost our home. We would have lost our future."

He is a truly changed man in the end.

"I used to think that Pokémon were terrifying creatures. You've helped me see otherwise."

Volo on the other hand? Tricks you, betrays you, and then tries to KILL YOU. Kamado was always upfront from the beginning that he didn’t trust you, but Volo? He’s buddy-buddy with you to take advantage of you.

And he’s the reason why this all happened! He created the rift, displaced pokemon and hell some people since Ingo obviously fell in through this rift too (People blame Arceus for this :/ ) and nearly killed everyone in Hisui with rampaging nobles and origin forme Dialga or Palkia.

And in the end, Volo doesn’t apologize at all. The dude doesn’t even change.

"Someday, I'll solve every riddle in the legends of Hisui's Pokémon. And on that day, I'll stand before Arceus at last—No, I will CONQUER it! No matter how many years, how many decades, how many centuries it takes me!"

I’m just fully convinced at this point that it 100% has to do with Volo being pretty and Kamado not being that attractive.

My hot take of the new year: Kamado is WAY better husband material than Volo could ever be.

Anyway my rant is over…no hate on Volo lovers, I do think he’s a fun character to rotate like a chicken on a spit in your brain but this has been my biggest grievance in the PLA fandom.

#pokemon kamado #pokemon volo #it’s just discouraging when Im like ooo I wanna see more Kamado stuff #and all the stuff is everyone shitting on this man #and i get Volo shoved in my face #and then also people shit on Arceus when Ingo falling into Hisui was definitely Volo’s fault #arceus did nothing wrong #kamado did some things wrong #Volo not only did wrongs things but laughed in your face while doing the wrong things #pokemon legends arceus

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