#[ being in physical pain is no bueno ]
Text
VALENTINE'S DAY WITH TIFA ( @lockhartred ) AND VINCENT: She sidles up next to him, a bag of red cinnamon hearts sitting in the palm of her hand as the other digs in and grabs a handful. “Here,” she says and reaches for his hand, the bag—more like a pouch—caught between her fingers, and places the handful of red hearts in the palm of his gloved hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Vincent,” she says with a smile as she notices how the red of the candy hearts stick out with its vibrant color against the black leather of his glove.
Another day verged to its definitive conclusion, bereft of any particular exhilaration it threatened to render into mundane, humdrum existence, by virtue of which his existence would remain stagnant, undisturbed. The gunman did not oppose serenity embracing him, succumbing to the heavy weight of many years he had lived, opting for an uneventful life, unless the specific group of people would deign to intrude upon his solitude anew.
With peculiarity of the festivity Vincent faced before, confused at first due to incomprehensible similarity with own surname, yet eventually it was disregarded as the celebrated sentiment no longer dwelled within confinements of his chest. Albeit the regrets of bygone days found rest along with the man himself, he did not consider the necessity of merging with the current generation, cursed as he was with immortality, though at times he found self yearning for connection nonetheless. As if keen to his inner turmoil, she attempted another approach, involving the raven-haired male into such a frivolous event, yet he did not dismiss the gesture outright, permitting her to grasp the gloved hand to leave the treats.
Carmine optics regarded bizarre shaped confections with apparent lack of enthusiasm, the item did not possess any significance to the man, nevertheless her concern was recognized and valued. Long fingers slightly squeezed the palm with the edible gifts, contemplating, lips parted to utter words of gratitude. "There's no need, but I appreciate the gesture regardless." At that time he lacked means to reciprocate, despite that the action to compensate her effort would be taken in the nearest future.
#lockhartred#Ⓥ : interactions ( vincent )#[ i totally didnt pass out‚ then sent you Tifa from my dash when i awoke and then passed out again ]#[ being in physical pain is no bueno ]#[ idk why it ended this long— im sorry i rambled a lot ]
1 note
·
View note
Text
knead
A/N: so after rewatching Narcos all weekend and staring at the screen with big ole heart eyes for the infamous Javier Peña, I decided that he, like Joel, deserves nice things 🤍
~word count: 1.2k~
Summary: Javier Peña desperately needs a fucking break and to be kinder to himself <3
Pairing | Javier Peña x f!reader
Warnings: angst, mentions of guns, cigarettes, implied death(s) due to an unsuccessful raid, established relationship, fluff, hurt and comfort, Javi is incredibly hard on himself, takes place during season 3 of Narcos, both Javi and the reader speak Spanish, reader has no physical descriptions, no age gap, +18 minors dni!
Lo entiendo, hermano. - I understand, brother.
No lo entiendes, hermano. Nadie lo entiende - You don’t understand, brother. No one does.
No tienes que esperarme despierta todas las noches, querida. Tu sueño es importante también, cariño. - You don’t have to wait up for me every night, querida. Your sleep is important too, baby.
Jav, yo quiero asegurarme de que has llegado bien a casa. - Jav, I always want to make sure you’re home safe
Javi, No tienes que disculparte por nada. Por favor, mi amor. - Javi, please don’t apologize for this. Please, my love.
Siempre tan bueno conmigo - Always good to me
Te quiero con todo lo que pueda ofrecerte, cariño - I love you with everything that I have to offer, cariño
Te quiero más a ti, Jav - I love you most, Jav.
When he comes home, he’s still in his olive green tac vest. His hair is strewn about in a sweaty mess across his face. He reeks of gunpowder, stale tobacco, and disappointment. It drips from his pores and lands in a puddle at his shoes, once shiny, now dull, scuffed and speckled in blood. A failed raid. Innocence lost, and disappointment. So much fucking dissapointment that swallows Javier Peña alive.
An anonymous tip leading to more fucking bloodshed. So much for things being done differently this time around.
A hero? Hardly.
Javier doesn’t feel like a hero. Not when all he’s done is failed over, and over again.
We’ll get them next time, Javier.
Will we?
Of course. You know the Cali Cartel like it’s the back of your hand, Peña. We’re this much closer to bringing them to justice.
Justice? He laughs. If there was any justice in this world, I would be in fucking jail right now.
Lo entiendo, hermano.
Javier laughs, voice rasped in bitterness. He swings his keys around on his pointer finger, jaw ticked, muscles aching beneath the sweat stained fabric of his shirt.
No lo entiendes, hermano. Nadie lo entiende. Javier responds coldly and unlocks his car door before climbing into the driver seat.
He thinks hard on his failure the entire drive home. He doesn’t listen to the radio. He sits in silence, puffing away on a stress cigarette even though he swore he was trying to quit.
In the lowlight from the hallway, Javier is able to make out your sleeping mass under the colorful patterned quilt on his couch. He swings the door shut softly behind him and quietly locks it.
His back and shoulders are tense, aching with each step he takes. Another jab and painful reminder of his failure tonight.
Despite Javier’s protests, you always wait for him to return home. He appreciates this more than you realize. It’s his one sense of comfort that he feels he’s undeserving of.
No tienes que esperarme despierta todas las noches, querida. Tu sueño es importante también, corazón.
Jav, yo quiero asegurarme de que has llegado bien a casa.
The worn couch cushions gradually press down from the weight of his body as he slowly sits down in the unoccupied space between your covered feet. He winces when he feels that annoying pinch in his lower back and brings his hands over his face, dragging them down over his alquine nose with a heavy sigh. He pulls out his gun, badge, cigarettes, and lighter. He tosses them onto the coffee table and leans back just as you begin to stir awake from the sound.
“Jav?” You murmur softly and subconsciously reach for him over the blanket.
“Its me, cariño.” He rasps. His hand reaches towards you in the dark, finding you soon after. He laces his fingers through yours.
“Are you okay?” You ask softly, sitting up and facing him.
“No. I’m not okay.” He admits.
“What happened?”
He looks over at you through the darkness and shrugs his shoulders. “What didn’t happen.” He clarifies. His thumb skates across the back of your hand gently.
“Do you want to talk about it?..”
“No. I just..I’m tired, querida. I’m tired of failing all the fucking time.” He sounds exhausted. You know just how much his job truly weighs on him.
“Javier, my love, you are not failing all the time. You aren’t. No one thinks that you are a failure, Jav.”
He makes a snuffling sound through his nose that comes across more like a scoff. His movements cease when he feels your freehand grasp his jaw and pull him in close. Even in the dark, your eyes are soft, gentle, and laced with concern.
“Everyone tells me that I’m a hero, cariño. I’m not a hero. I’ve never been a hero.”
“Javi, you don’t have to be a hero. People mean well with their words. I know they do, but you have to try and not let it get to you this much. Okay? Javier, you have one of the toughest jobs out there. No one but yourself is going to understand how you feel. Whatever happened tonight, does not make you a terrible person, or a failure. You’re doing everything you can to take down the Cali Cartel.” You reassure him.
“I feel like I have to be the hero. Javier Peña, the dashing DEA agent that took down Pablo Escobar.” He laughed. “Cariño, I was told that this time things would be different, but they were wrong. Everytime I try to ensure that innocent lives won’t be lost, someone gets caught in a crossfire. A civilian. A child. An unsuspecting bystander. It weighs on me. It fucking weighs on me more than I’m willing to admit.” He said in an exasperated tone.
You saw the tears begin to brew along his waterline before he even realized he was crying. You detected the strain in his voice, and sprung into action. Your hand dropped from his face only to then pull him into a hug with your hand gently cradling the back of his head and your fingers slipping through his hair, nails scratching his scalp gently in hopes to soothe him.
His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap so he could be closer to you. His warm palms slid under the thin fabric of your shirt along your lower back and he buried his face into the crook of your neck.
“I’m sorry.” He sniffled. “I don’t want you to see me like this, cariño.”
“Javi, No tienes que disculparte por nada. Por favor, mi amor.”
“You’re so good to me.” He kisses the exposed skin on your neck, the tips of his mustache tickles you as you hug him tightly, rubbing your hands up and down his back and shoulders in a soothing motion.
“And you’re good to me, Javier. Siempre tan bueno conmigo.”
He nuzzles you affectionately, wishing he could crawl inside of you and live there forever. “Cariño, can you do something for me?” He asks softly, dragging his lips across your skin once more.
“Anything, Jav.”
“My back and shoulders are fucking killing me. Can you—” you cut him off before he even has a chance to finish his sentence.
“Of course I can.”
He breathes a sigh of relief through his nose “Gracias, cariño”
He slowly drops his arms from around your waist so he can remove his shirt. He undos each button with meticulous precision and slowly slides the fabric down from his forearms. He lays his shirt along the side of the couch while you slide into the space behind him, with your thighs wrapping around his torso. He leans back into your touch, lashes fluttering shut when your hands work their way up from his lower back, kneading the tender strained muscles there.
You work your way upwards and pay close attention to the areas where he’s feeling the most pain. He murmurs praises in both Spanish and English under his breath when you slowly and delicately work through a particular nasty knot between his shoulder blades.
Your gentle, yet firm touch sends the DEA agent into a state of bliss, and he’s putty in your hands in no time.
Your chin comes to rest along the crook of his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss along his jawline. He hums and tilts his head to the side, finding your lips in a gentle kiss. A thank you. An I love you, and an I appreciate you can be tasted through the kiss. He rests his hands along your thighs that are wrapped around him, gently kneading the soft flesh with his strong, yet gentle hands.
“Te quiero con todo lo que pueda ofrecerte, cariño”
You smile against his lips, kissing him deeper while your fingers gently brush through the wispy tendrils of hair along his forehead.
“Te quiero yo más, Jav.”
Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍
I no longer have a taglist so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications.
#fic: knead#javier pena fanfiction#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier pena fic#javier pena fluff#javier pena imagine#javier peña angst#javi peña#javi peña x reader#javi peña x you#javi peña x f!reader#javi p x reader#javier peña x f!reader#javier peña x female reader#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier pena narcos#javier peña one shot#javier peña fic#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña fluff#narcos fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction
495 notes
·
View notes
Text
one step forward and three steps back
warnings: blood, panic attack, self harm, relapse. seriously, if you are even slightly concerned that this could be triggering for you, don't read it.
Ingrid-fight.
The weeks following your breakdown were easier than you'd anticipated. You'd taken a couple weeks off, spending the time focusing on your mental health, at Alexia and Jona's insistence. The club told the media that you were taking time for your mental health, which mostly went over well. Some, however, thought the club was being too soft. They only saw you get a red card, and take weeks off from playing; it was a tantrum you were throwing, not taking time for yourself.
Your return game saw you in the starting lineup, along with Mapi and Alexia. Ingrid was still out, being careful with her leg. You were doing better, able to focus more on playing, as well as being significantly less reckless on the pitch. Your hand had healed, and it really should have been your game.
Unfortunately for you, though, was that the other team was desperate to win. Not that every team wasn't, but the dirty tackles coming in every other minute made it clear that they were on a mission. Still, you'd managed to stay out of trouble until it was almost the end of the game.
You were trying to beat a defender, one of the players that had been playing particularly roughly. Normally, you didn't mind this, never not up for a physical challenge. What you didn't appreciate, however, was the elbow thrown into your face, connecting directly with first your nose, and then your eye.
"Fucking hell," You cried out, hands flying to your face as the other girl took the ball. The whistle blew almost instantly, and she groaned. You were pissed. "What, did you think they added throwing elbows when you can't do your job into the rulebook?" You asked her, feeling blood beginning to stream steadily out of your nose.
Your teammates and the ref were still making their way over to you, and only some of them caught the girls response.
"Gonna need to take another few weeks off? Your nose probably needs a mental health break, huh?" She said condescendingly. Alexia and Mapi sped up at this, breaking into runs to get to you. Sure enough, no sooner had the words left her mouth, and you were taking your hands away from your nose, and giving her a harsh shove. She shoved back, and both of you had fists raised by the time you were separated.
Mapi wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you back. "Easy there, the ref will take care of it," she told you, as you fought against her grasp. You were annoyed, Mapi was normally down for a fight. Instead, she was speaking in soothing tones, her calm eyes meeting your wild ones.
"She said-"
"I know what she said, but your face is bleeding, so sit down and let the physios check you, bueno?" Mapi was pissed, but she could hear Alexia talking to the ref behind her, and felt that as much as she wanted to slap that stupid girl across the face, she was more helpful here, making you take a seat as the physios arrived.
With a huff, you relented, sitting down. The pain in your face was becoming harder to ignore, and you didn't know if you believed the guy when he told you your nose wasn't broken, only badly bruised.
"Feels fucking broken," you said, attempting to add some bite to your words. Instead, they came out all choked, and you realized you were about to cry.
Mapi put a hand on your shoulder, not used to this response. You normally didn't cry when you got hurt, and she realized the comment from the other girl had affected you more than you'd probably admit. Mapi made eye contact with the physio and shook her head slightly, He signaled to the bench for a sub.
"You said it wasn't broken!" you protested.
"No, but you should ice it. No reason to take any unnecessary risks." He told you, and you knew that he and Mapi were just aware that you were upset, not thinking that you really needed to go off. You were going to argue, when Alexia stepped up, fixing you with her general look of "do what they say or I'll yell." You weren't in the mood for any yelling, so you relented, stomping off to the sidelines, without another word to your teammates. You noticed with some satisfaction that the other girl had gotten a red.
You stalked off the pitch, heading for the locker room, and Ingrid fell into step beside you.
"Leave me alone." You told her, wanting to cry in peace. You weren't sure why you were so upset with that girl's comment, but you were.
"No," she responded, meeting your glare with a smile. "Not letting you break another hand." She joked, and you mumbled an insult under your breath. She ignored it, following you into the locker room and watching as you threw yourself down in front of your locker.
Ingrid brought over a towel and some ice, insistently holding them out to you. After you took them, wiping the blood off your face, and pressing the ice to your nose, she sat next to you.
"You looked upset out there." She remarked.
"Yeah well. Elbow to the face." You responded.
"It looked like she said something to you," Ingrid pressed. You paused, before deciding to tell Ingrid what she said. her response would tell you whether you were being dramatic or not. After you'd spoken, Ingrid's eyes narrowed.
"What a little bitch," she seethed, and you huffed out a laugh, that quickly turned into a sob. Ingrid looked at you, startled, before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, rubbing her hand up and down your arm.
"I don't know why I'm crying, it wasn't that bad. It was just mean and my nose hurts and I hate that stupid girl," you blubbered, and Ingrid held back a laugh.
"It's alright, y/n, you're allowed to be upset. It was mean. And it was about something that's sensitive to you, it makes sense why you're upset." She told you rationally. Ingrid had a way of speaking that made whatever she said make sense, instantly believable. You wiped the remaining tears off your face, before quietly thanking her. She squeezed your shoulders, and you both lapsed into silence.
You were impressed with Ingrid, for being able to make you feel better so fast. Ingrid was impressed with you, for expressing your feelings without her having to drag them out of you. It was clear that you were improving, and it filled her with relief. But for every step forward, there's always a step back. Or two.
-----
Mapi- panic.
You weren't really sure what had happened. One second, you were out with the team, celebrating a win in a club. It was a rare occasion for your captains [mostly Alexia], to agree to a night out in the middle of the season, so everyone had taken full advantage. You were dancing with Pina and Patri, surrounded by other people, when you felt it; the beginnings of panic starting to rise within you.
Maybe it was the crowded room, the lack of oxygen, the alcohol, or just a random fit of anxiety. Regardless of the reason, you were quickly growing more panicked. Without a word to either girl you were with, you had spun around and were pushing your way out of the crowd, off the dance floor. You broke free of the crowd, not processing anything happening around you. You still felt like the room was out of air though, so you headed for the door, stumbling slightly as you pushed your way out.
You leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. The air outside was cooler, more plentiful, yet you still couldn't seem to get enough into your body. You slid to the ground, pressing your hands to your face as you tried desperately to regain control. You couldn't hear much except for a faint ringing sound, and you felt completely untethered from the world.
Until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jerked your head up to find Mapi's concerned face looking down at you. You relaxed slightly, knowing it wasn't a random stranger, putting your head back in your hands.
You felt Mapi take a seat next to you, her hand moving slowly up and down your back. She took one of your hands away from your face, and pressed it to her chest. You felt the steady rise and fall of her breaths, and forced yourself to match them. Your breaths were still stuttering, but they began to slow. You weren't sucking in air as desperately anymore, and the ringing in your ears was giving way to Mapi's gravelly voice.
"In and out, just like that," she said as you began to process her words. "Good, just take it slow. You're safe, I've got you," she told you, her voice and touch working well to calm you.
"Sorry," you gasped out, although you weren't really sure why you were apologizing.
"That's alright, pequeña, you can't help it." She replied. Once you were almost completely calm, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her. "What happened?" she asked, and you could hear the note of protection in her voice.
"Don't know. Too many people I think," you told her, resting your head against the wall behind you as you breathed in and out. "I'll be okay in a minute," you said.
"Take your time, I've got no where else to be," she said, resting her chin on your head.
It still struck you how much your friends cared for you. Even when you felt like they shouldn't, even when you knew it would be easier for them to give up on you, or let you handle it alone, they never did. And they never would, no matter what.
-----
Alexia - relapse.
You hadn't meant for it to happen- really. You'd been doing better. You were working with a therapist, and you'd started medication. It was clear that you desperately needed both of these things, and they were helping. You were naive to think that it would be only up from there though. Looking back, you'd realize the increase in dosage in your medication had just gone horribly wrong, the way that it could in rare cases. Having a clear reason didn't make what happened disappear though.
It had been a bad day. You'd woken up in an inexplicably bad mood. It had been a while since the familiar heavy cloud of gloom had settled over you, but as you headed to training, you felt it once again. The weight pushed down on you insistently, and as a result, you practiced worse. Your passes weren't connecting, shots weren't going in, and you kept tripping over your own feet.
This only made your mood worse, and by the time practice ended, you were incredibly frustrated with yourself. You avoided conversation, everyone discussing exciting plans for the night since you all had the day off tomorrow. You left the locker room quickly, missing the glances exchanged as you opened the door harder than necessary. You really should have expected to be stopped by your friends, but you were so in your head, you didn't hear them approaching. You jumped when Mapi placed a tattooed hand on your shoulder, halting you in your tracks.
When you turned to look at her, her face was pinched with concern, and you felt yourself grow more frustrated; you weren't supposed to be worrying your friends anymore, you were fine. Alexia stood behind her, watching you carefully. They both had yet to shower, still in their training kits, and you wondered if they were waiting so they could check on you.
"You alright pequeña?" Mapi asked. You nodded, sighing as both girls continued to look at you, clearly not believing you.
"Just a rough day." You told them.
"Do you want one of us to come home with you?" Alexia asked, keeping her voice low and soothing, expecting you to reject the idea. It was something they'd made you promise after that night. If you weren't feeling okay, you were supposed to tell them. You had yet to do this, with things improving, and you didn't want to start now. Admitting that you were having a bad day was one thing, but admitting that your thoughts were going dark was another. You were better, you were supposed to be better.
So, you convinced yourself that you'd be fine on your own, and you told Alexia as much. "No, I'm fine, I promise. I'm just gonna go home and relax." Your plans for the rest of the day consisted of laying in bed until you felt less like your every move was heavy.
The older girls gave you searching looks, but relented, reminding you that they were just a phone call away. They'd slowly begun to trust you again, since that night, trust you'd earned. They'd been able to see your improvements, and as a result, assumed that if you needed them, you'd tell them.
They were wrong.
------
In hindsight, maybe going home by yourself while in the midst of a depressive episode might not have been the best idea. Arriving home, you had tried to distract yourself, which was hard when you barely had the energy to sit upright. You settled yourself on your couch, not bothering to try to eat. You pulled your favorite blanket around your shoulders, settling in against the cushions, putting a random show on. You fell asleep watching TV, with the hopes that when you woke up, you'd feel better.
Instead, you woke up after the sun had set, feeling much worse. Your apartment was completely dark, although the curtains were wide open. You didn't bother with turning the lights on, staying in the same position on the couch as you began to spiral.
The deep sadness that had nestled it's way into the very core of your being this morning had given way some, to numbness. The numbness was normally where things went south. A combination of despair, but the inability to access those emotions choked you. You felt, so deeply, but you couldn't bring it to the surface. Instead, the shadows of these emotions danced just outside your grasp, leaving you desperate for something, anything, other than blank paralysis.
This was normally the point you turned to unhealthy coping mechanisms. Not often, and not for a while, but still, the once the thought popped into your head, you couldn't get rid of it. You knew it was the only thing that could bring you back into yourself, melt the freeze in your brain. The pain never failed at this; you knew it was bad, knew you shouldn't need to resort to this, but sitting there on your couch, you couldn't really think of any other option.
Robotically, you stood up from the couch, pausing as your phone fell to the ground off your lap. There were a few notifications you'd missed, and you stopped, opening them. All were from various teammates group chats. You ignored most of them, opening up the thread with Alexia, Mapi, and Ingrid. Your mind was clouded, focused on the task you had set your mind to, but still, a small part of it reminded you that you didn't have to do this. You had people that could help, would help, wanted to help.
You remembered, though, that they were out tonight. It was Ingrid and Mapi's anniversary, and the spaniard was taking Ingrid somewhere ridiculous and fancy. Alexia had some Barcelona related benefit. Realistically, you knew they'd all drop everything to come to you if you told them you needed them, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. One time wouldn't hurt. You could do it again, just this once. They'd never have to know.
-----
Pulling the blade away from your skin, you watched as blood trailed down your thigh. You didn't feel better, not like you normally did. The feelings had come rushing back to you after the first cut, but they didn't relinquish their grip on you as you continued. You felt desperate, filled with anguish, with no clear way to get rid of it.
Well, there was one way. As soon as you had that thought, you began to panic. You hadn't thought like this in a really long time, and it scared the hell out of you. It was like you were fighting between two parts of yourself, one that wanted you to be okay, and one that didn't care if you were okay, as long as you didn't feel like this anymore. The latter had won out, earlier. You were terrified that if you didn't do something, it would win again.
You forced yourself to breath, to think logically. You grabbed a towel from the shelf next to you. You leaned back against the wall, pressing it tightly against your leg. You just needed to do one thing at a time and everything would be okay. Reaching up to the bathroom counter, you grabbed your phone.
This was the hardest part. Harder than dragging the blade across your skin, harder than hiding your scars. Scars you'd reopened now. Your hand shook as you considered your options. Your mind had cleared slightly, self preservation instincts kicking in.
Ingrid and Mapi deserved a nice anniversary. Alexia hated social events. She'd probably tell you that you were doing her a favor if you called. Probably not when she heard why you called, but regardless.
Taking another breath, you clicked her contact, anxiety finding it's way into your gut.
"Hola, y/n." Alexia answered rather quickly, and you knew then that she hadn't really believed you earlier.
"Ale." You choked the word out, eyes suddenly full of tears. You didn't sound like yourself. Now that she was on the phone with you, the weight of what you'd done, and what you'd considered, was hitting you full force.
"Que paso?" Alexia asked, voice switching from casual to worried instantly. You could picture her expression, the one she got when she was giving someone instructions, or arguing with a ref, an intensity that made her the player that she was. It also made her the friend that she was. You tried to reply, but the words wouldn't come out of your mouth.
"Y/n, I need you to tell me what's happening, now" Alexia said almost frantically. The background of people talking had disappeared and you knew she was leaving, moving fast to get to you.
"I-... I need you," you responded finally, barely getting the words out. You were sucking in air faster now, tears falling freely.
"Okay, I'm coming to you now, nena. I'll be there in 10 minutes," Alexia told you. Her soft tone was one reserved for very few people; at that moment, you counted yourself very lucky that you were one of them. "Are you safe?" She asked, feeling like she already knew the answer.
You weren't really sure how to respond to that. The bleeding had stopped, so you weren't medically in danger. The blade was across the bathroom from you, and Alexia was on her way, so you doubted you'd be able to do any more damage. Your thoughts were still rather dire, but you were focusing on Alexia, on her voice, and the sound of her getting in her car and starting the engine.
"I'm not really sure," you settled on. The Catalan wasn't sure what to make of that response.
"Are you at home?"
"Si"
"Are you hurt?"
You paused, and she knew the answer. You heard the engine increasing in volume as she accelerated. "Pequeña, do you need an ambulance?" Alexia asked. The question made her nauseous but she forced herself to remain focused, to not get caught up in her feelings.
"No. Stopped bleeding." You replied, shutting your eyes tightly as she inhaled a sharp breath. You hated this, hated it so much.
"Okay, that's good, nena. Can you take a breath for me?" You did as she asked, realizing that you'd been holding in air. "Bien, muy bien. I'm almost there, okay? Stay on the phone with me."
"Okay," came your response, voice quiet. Neither of you spoke much after that, Alexia aware that you were struggling to reply, and relying on the sound of your breaths to assure her that you were alright.
She told you when she arrived, though, parking the car and jumping in the elevator. The call cut out while she was in there, which you'd been expecting. As you waited for her to enter the apartment, trusting that she'd use her spare key, you took in the sight in front of you. You didn't pull the towel away from your thigh, but you looked at the red staining the bath mat, the blade discarded where you'd thrown it. Pulling your attention from it, you focused on the door, hearing Alexia move hastily through your apartment.
She opened the door, and had to stifle a gasp. She'd tried to prepare herself, but nothing she could picture in her mind was like seeing it in person. You were sat against the wall, white blood stained towel pressed to your leg. You shorts were pulled up, revealing the scars on your other leg. You were wearing an old training shirt, and there was blood on that too. You were shaking slightly, eyes big and cheeks tearstained. What struck her most was how scared you looked.
"Oh, pequeña," she said, voice breaking. You dropped your gaze at her words, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. She crouched down next to you, placing a hand on your cheek. She pressed her lips to your forehead, desperate to give you any comfort she could. "I'm here, I've got you. We'll take care of it, alright?" She said, words thick with emotion. You nodded shakily, and she stood back up, pulling the first aid kit out from under your sink. She took a seat back next to you, pausing.
"Can you take the towel off, nena?" Alexia asked. She didn't want to push you too hard, not sure how you'd respond. Wordlessly, you pulled it off your leg, wincing where it stuck to the skin. Alexia swallowed hard, the sight worse than she anticipated.
"Okay. I'm going to disinfect, and then I'm going to cover them." You nodded, still not having spoken. She pulled out a couple of alcohol wipes, opening 3 all at once. "This is gonna sting, tell me if you need a break, okay?" Again, you only nodded. Alexia worked fast, cleaning the wounds. You didn't ask for a break, but she noticed you flinch every so often, let out sharper exhales. She put anti-infection cream on before deciding against bandaids. Instead, she placed a piece of gauze on, wrapping it with medical adhesive tape.
You looked down, taking in the neatly wrapped area. It looked much better like this, much more manageable. Alexia stood to wash her hands. She dried them off, before turning back to you. You were staring at your red stained hands. She reached down, guiding you to stand, before pulling you to the sink, and helping you wash the blood off of them. You were docile under her grasp, blankly following her instructions. She led you out of the bathroom, quickly helping you change out of your blood stained clothes, and into clean ones. She pulled clothes out of your closet for herself, too, changing out of the suit she'd worn the the benefit. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and she'd rather be comfortable.
You found yourself sitting on the couch, like you had been before. This time though, the lights were on, and the room felt warm, inviting, as opposed to cold and lonely. Alexia moved around, keeping an eye on you as she made you a mug of tea. She sat down next to you, typing quickly on her phone before turning to you.
You felt better. Not great, not really even good, but better. You got a better grasp on your emotions, and began to connect the dots in your head. This had been so out of the blue. Normally, you only reached this point after weeks of being down. It was clear to you, now, that increasing your dosage of your meds had been a mistake. You'd always heard warnings, about how in rare cases an antidepressant could increase depression, thoughts of... the things you'd done. And the things you'd thought about doing. The explanation made you feel a little calmer.
Alexia, on the other hand, did not know what had happened. She was trying to give you some time to process, but she was going crazy. You hadn't spoken to her since she'd arrived, and you were sitting next to her, clearly deep in thought.
"Y/n, can you please tell me what you're thinking?" She finally asked. You startled slightly, before nodding your head. You explained your theory, of why what had happened happened.
"I just need to go back down on my meds. Or try a different one." Alexia felt relieved, but not completely. She could see you trying to convince yourself that, because there was a clear explanation, it was fine. You were fine. That this wasn't a big deal. She also could tell that you were trying not to let yourself get upset about it.
"I'm glad you understand why this happened, we can go see the psychiatrist tomorrow," she said, carefully contemplating her next words. "That was still really scary, nena."
"I'm so sorry, Ale. I'm so sorry you had to see that, that I called, that I messed up again and scared you," you rambled, clearly thinking she was talking about being scared herself. She had been terrified, but that's not what she meant.
"No, I meant for you. Having those thoughts must have been really frightening, especially out of the blue like that." Alexia replied, and you looked away. "Please, please, do not ever apologize for this. For any of it. I don't care that you scared me, I'm just glad you called. So glad, and so so proud of you, pequeña." She implored, watching carefully as you shook your head unconsciously.
"I messed up, you shouldn't be proud of me," was all you said. You looked like you were about to cry again, and Alexia couldn't resist pulling you into her arms. You let her, resting your head on her chest, blinking rapidly to try to stave off the tears.
"Well, I am proud of you. You called me. You wouldn't have done that a few months ago." She paused, thoughtful. She was trying to think of something that would relieve your guilt, your disappointment in yourself. "Relapses are part of recovery, y/n. It sucks, but they are. Relapsing doesn't make you weak, or a bad person. I know you feel like you should be better, but it's okay if you're not. Because of your medicine, or because of anything else. There's no timeline here, no requirements of being okay that you have to meet. All you need to do is try your best. And you are, I can tell. You asked for help when you needed it, and that is something to celebrate."
You looked up at her, the hopeful expression on your face making her heart clench. "I haven't let you down?" You asked quietly.
"No, nena. You haven't let anyone down. I was scared, yes, but all I feel right now is love for you, and pride for you." She said, determined for you to believe her. You were starting to. Her tone, her face, were so full of conviction, it was hard to do anything but listen.
"Thank you for coming so fast."
"I'll always come when you need me, as fast as I can." Her reply was almost instant. Alexia watched as you smiled weakly at her, before it dropped from your face, and tears welled in your eyes yet again. "What is it, pequeña," she wondered, rubbing a hand up and down your back. You leaned your head back against her, speaking into the fabric of her sweatshirt.
"I have to start all over again," you choked out.
Alexia sighed. "I know, I'm sorry. But we're all gonna be here again, okay? All of us, for every second."
They'd proven they'd be there for you, time and time again. Their commitment to being good friends, to taking care of you, was what made you believe that you were worth it. They were some of the best people you knew, and if they were going to be there every step of the way, the journey must be worth it.
-----
I hope you guys enjoyed :). Obviously a super heavy part. I'm not really sure what else to say, other than I hope that if you read this, it can bring you comfort in some way. Asking for help is terrifying, but it's so worth it, I promise. You deserve to feel good, and be happy.
477 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you do please an angst where Gavi is fighting with reader and then he starts to cry ?
light angst, but happy end like always ❤️❤️❤️❤️
"I asked you to do it this morning!!!!" you said coming back from uni to still filled trash cans knowing people won't come until next week.
"I had physical and completely forgot! You could have done it too!" Pablo said angrily really being in one of his moods since he got injured.
"I was late to school this morning and you said you'd do it!!!" you fight back really being anxious with the finals season and Pablo being home in pain now.
"I forgot!!!" he yelled loudly and you flinched really not someone who does well with confrontations pulling back from him and walking to take care of it yourself.
"Amor..." he said feeling guilty for yelling the moment he saw your tearful eyes. Pablo was never like this towards you knowing your history but recently everything seemed to agitate him.
"It's fine...I'll handle it" you were sobbing feeling panicked and anxious while trying to pull the heavy bag outside of the trashcan but he stopped you.
"Forget about it, preciosa...I'm sorry for yelling at you mi princesita linda mi vida...venga aqui" he said opening his arms and you quickly hugged him crying into his shirt while he held you there tight.
"Shhh I'm sorry...so so sorry amorcito mio" Pablo cooed and you calmed down in his embrace nodding your head and looking up at him with tearful eyes. He sighed drying them off before walking with you back to the couch.
"We're both very overwhelmed lately but it was not okay to take it out on you...I'll fix up the trash with the guys in the morning but right now i just want to hold you, bueno???" he asked and you nodded resting your head against his strong chest while he played with your hair.
Like in every relationship, you had your ups and downs but all that mattered is that you always work them through and end up happy in each others embrace <3
Ik it's short but sweeet❤️❤️❤️
#gavigif#gavi#fc barça#fc barca#fc barcelona#pablo gavi x you#pablo gavi x y/n#pablo gavi x reader#pablo gavi icons#pablo gavi#gavi x yn#gavi x you#gavi x reader
215 notes
·
View notes
Note
Holaaa
3ra pt al best friend blurb con spencer?
Fue re lindo 😭😭
Gracias!!
Awww! Que bueno que te gustó. Hoy me di un tiempo para escribir otra parte del Blurb. Espero que te guste!
We have another Spencer Reid x Bestfriend! Reader blurb. I hope you like it. Remember this is connected with #1 and #2 blurb. I didn't plan to do a whole story line about this but you know if you ask, you shall receive!
Bestfriend Blurb #3
Summary: You and Spencer are colleagues and best friends. Also you are super in love, you are just fools and don't know it yet.
Words: 1k
Warning: go to this link!
Spencer moved through the sea of people thickening at the entrance of the mall, consciously or unconsciously trying to avoid any physical contact. Going to a crowded mall after work wasn't exactly his idea of fun, but he had been craving the ice cream they sold at that italian ice-cream shop both of you had discovered in a secluded corner of the mall. Like him, you also had a problem with sugar that you didn't want to solve. He had invited you a little before leaving Quantico (The team had to work on a Saturday to submit the case they had finished the day before), but with a disappointed look, you had said you already had plans but promised to pick him up tomorrow at his apartment and go for ice cream. Of course, Spencer happily accepted, but that plan didn't mean he wouldn't go to the mall for his three-scoop ice cream today. No, it meant he would have his three-scoop chocolate chip ice cream today and tomorrow, and it would taste even better.
He climbed the escalators, enjoying the fact that he wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere or chasing something urgently. He buried his hands in his pants pockets and took a few steps on the mall's second floor, observing the crowd engrossed in their own affairs, carrying shopping bags, looking at shop windows, and being lured by some perfume sellers. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple; he had his arm around the other person's neck as they laughed and carried bags. At that moment, he didn't know why he turned his gaze for a better view, but then he recognized you. He could recognize you with just a blur in his peripheral vision, and maybe just your presence tingling at the back of his neck.
When he saw you, you were smiling from ear to ear, and with your elbow, you playfully hit the man hugging you. He laughed and playfully stepped away from you. You shook your head, but you kept smiling. That scene hurt him more knowing that it wasn't just any man, but Derek.
That pain was accompanied by a pressure in his lower abdomen; he felt small pins digging into his temples and behind his ears. He wanted to run and separate you from Derek. But he also felt stressed; he wanted to run and leave. Suddenly, the good day he had had, along with his desire to eat that delicious ice cream, had vanished. He only saw you, laughing, with the person you had preferred to spend time with instead of Spencer. You had told Spencer that you would pick him up at his house in the morning to eat that ice cream and then go to the park for a walk and maybe kidnap J.J.'s kids to spend the afternoon with them. The prospect of spending a Sunday with you was enough to make Spencer happy his whole Saturday.
He loosened his fists and shook his hands gently in the air, trying to make the sudden sweat on his skin disappear. With a heavy breath and a tense body, he started walking towards the stairs leading to the first floor. He had no right to feel this way; you were his friend, his best friend. He loved you, and you loved him, but as best friends. However, an irrational voice inside him hated the fact that you were laughing with someone else, and someone else had you in their arms, and that person didn't know that you would prefer to eat ice cream from your favorite ice cream shop and go to a video game store to see which Funko Pop you could buy or where you would get inspiration for your costume for the next comic con, than spending your time strolling through the clothing and perfume area carrying Hugo Boss shopping bags. He hated himself because he should have said something to you that afternoon, he should have convinced you to go with him for that ice cream, and you should have thought that ice cream with Spencer was a thousand times better than laughing with Derek in front of a shop window. He just should have...
"Spencer?" he heard your voice behind him, addressing him with a smile. He turned to find you right behind him, lips curved and eyes playful. "I thought you were coming for your ice cream right after work," you added, turning to look at Derek, who was approaching with his bags. "Derek asked me to accompany him shopping. I didn't think I'd come here," you rolled your eyes when you felt Morgan giving your shoulder a playful shove.
"Hey, kid, what are you doing here alone?"
Spencer observed him seriously, trying to fake a relaxed expression so they wouldn't notice the growing anger boiling inside him. Then, his eyes landed on yours. Part of him wanted you to feel guilty, but guilty about what? You weren't doing anything wrong.
"I... came for ice cream," was his succinct response.
Derek looked at him carefully, and his gaze softened when he seemed to understand something that you, of course, were oblivious to.
"Boy, listen, I need your opinion. This young lady next to me says I shouldn't try any of my moves on my date tonight, but the hugging technique is foolproof, you know?"
"Date tonight?" Spencer's heart raced, not understanding. So, this wasn't an official date? Would they both have one tonight...? He was your friend! And this wasn't an exhibition of your photographs; this was a date with a colleague. Why hadn't you wanted to mention that detail to him?
"Yeah. You see, this male specimen is all confident because this new girl he met at a bar a few weeks ago fell for his charms." you added with a sarcastic smile.
"If she did it once, she can fall again, I'm just saying..." Derek tried to defend himself, but you interrupted him.
"I'm just saying that this girl is special and that he shouldn't use the techniques he used before with other girls" you emphasized, looking at Derek beside you, and then your face softened when your eyes returned to Spencer. "Savannah is the sweetest; Derek has been stalking her for days, and I managed to see her LinkedIn profile along with Penelope because he has refused to give much information," you laughed, crossing your arms. "So we proposed to advise him with an attractive outfit and an elegant perfume. Pen used her skills to get him a good table at a quiet restaurant, and this guy must promise to keep his hands to himself and leave the beautiful girl safe and sound in her apartment to ensure another date."
Spencer hesitated, somewhat stunned. He didn't know what to do with those wild jealousy that had taken over his body a minute ago. He had been a fundamental idiot.
"We proposed...?"
You opened your mouth to answer just as a shout from Penelope sounded from one of the perfume stands. The woman was walking on her huge heels with a smile on her face, holding a perfume sample between her fingers.
"This is it! It's perfect! Believe it, darling, you'll smell like some kind of luxury chocolate. She'll want to try it but still won't have enough space on her credit card to afford it. Believe me; she'll want more," Penelope stopped talking when she stood next to Derek and rubbed the perfume sample on Derek's neck, carrying the bags of her purchases in her arms. She stood on her toes to smell it and nodded excitedly. "Oh, this is it; I didn't know you could be more attractive until this perfume."
Derek and you watched her silently, amused, until Penelope became aware of Spencer's presence.
"Oh, Spencer," she murmured. "Have you joined our crusade?"
"No, we just ran into each other," Spencer tried to smile. "I just found out about Derek's date."
"And she's a good girl, dedicated to her work. We need to make this guy shine," Penelope affectionately tapped Derek's shoulder just in time for him to stretch his arm and make the same move he had done minutes before with you, precisely getting the same response; a playful laugh, a denial, and an elbow bumping him away disapprovingly. "Once again; nope. Let's go buy the perfume." Penelope dragged him along with her, looking at you. "Are you coming, sweetheart?"
You took a step towards Spencer and stood by his side, watching them with a smile.
"I think my job here is done. Can you handle it from here?" you asked Pen, who stretched a smile and nodded enthusiastically, bidding you farewell with a wave alongside Derek.
"Thanks, honey!"
You gave Derek a small military salute and smiled at Spencer. You buried your hands in the pockets of your flared jeans and played with the tips of your shoes. For a moment, he thought you would ask about his strange attitude from a few seconds ago, but you wouldn't put him in that kind of tight spot.
"You know? I really want ice cream. Shall we?" you shrugged, waiting for Spencer's response.
He observed you, finally being able to see you for real and not just what his jealousy had allowed him to see. He saw that smile that drove him crazy, and he also saw your cheeks slightly flushed. He saw your colorful sneakers, and he felt the happiness he had felt when he knew he would go for his favorite ice cream and this time wouldn't have to wait until Saturday to spend time with his favorite person. As both walked in comfortable silence, and your arm brushed against Spencer's, he smiled. The green jealousy that had filled his stomach had been replaced by another kind of creatures; these tickled him inside with a feeling of anticipation, but he didn't know why. You gave him a little nudge, which he returned, and after a moment of small courage, Spencer raised his arm behind your back and then pulled your body close to his, hugging your neck, imitating Derek. He made you laugh too; you also shook, but this time you didn't step away.
You continued walking beside him, and Spencer could have sworn you snuggled up.
Part 4
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x bestfriend!reader#bestfriend blurb#jealous! spencer reid#friends to lovers#mutual pining
122 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could I get some fluff with Reader and Raph? Reader get her monthly gift and dealing with unbearable cramps and Raph is just being a big teddy bear and cuddling her and comforting her? (Basically when I get mine and wish Bay!Raph was there :( )
(Thank you for the request @lostdreamerinafantasy I won't lie this is a bit tricky for me because when I am in pain physical touch is no Bueno lol but I tried my best!! Cause you deserve those cuddles from big boy Raph! Also apologies for it being super late.)
Tagging: @madammuffins @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @pheradream15 @sharpwindow @dilucsflame33
(anyone else wanna be on tag list lemme know)
The pain was hot within your stomach. It twisted you inside. You dared not to move once you found a good position or it would pierce your whole body again with a minimal change.
You whimpered helplessly.
"Aw, shit." You heard Raph from somewhere in the room.
He retreated quickly and your heart sank, feeling lonely and abandoned. Tears gathered in your eyes and you sniffled.
You didn't know how much time passed but suddenly there was some more noise, scrambling about and then footsteps approaching. You recognised Raphael again. You could easily tell by the way he walked. He was so distinct from his brothers.
"Right, so," you felt him sit on the bed. "I looked this shit up on the Internet so sorry babe if somethin's wrong. Here's some snacks you like, hot water bottle, blanket an' I- um-" he cleared his throat. Some embarrassment showed in his tone of voice. "Well, I noticed you were running low on- you know- your lady stuff, so… April gonna drop by later, yeah? I got you Tylenol and water too."
You listened to him talk and you opened your eyes a bit in disbelief.
"Anything else I can do fer ya?" He asked and you felt the heavy hand on your side.
"Hold me?" You asked.
"Sure babe," he said with a soft smile.
The bed creaked under his weight as he climbed behind you.
You took the moment to swallow the painkillers and washed them with gulps of water. The water bottle has been snatched and pressed to your stomach.
Raph hugged you to his plastron, stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. You fit so well against his body and he was so warm against your back. The way his arms just closed you in the safe space of your own bubble made it easier to relax and stand the pain.
"Just um- no word of this to my brothers okay?" He whispered.
You giggled nuzzling the beefy arm of your boyfriend.
"Your reputation is safe with me."
247 notes
·
View notes
Text
Something that I like about the golden core reveal, and like how MXTX handle, is that it is not WWX who talk about it. And I like LWJ's reaction too, he's not looking for consolation, at least not on WWX. Many times, when faced with a traumatic event, the person is forced to relive it to tell it, to be "honest" and this is re-victimize that person, the spaces for those who have suffered trauma to talk about it must be respected and not being forced to talk about it. I'm not really sure how feel with WN talk about it in rage, but WWX was not angry so, he has the last word.
Many fics force WWX to reveal the golden core, my view on this is quite contrary to JC stans. I think JC wanted a core, he got it through a favor from WWX's mother, what bothers him later is that it is WWX's core (and I do not deny the trauma associated with torture, because Wen Chao whipped him and WZ melted his golden core).
On the other hand, for WWX, regardless it is voluntary, the surgery is a trauma, emotional and physical. 2 days and one night, conscious while his golden core was ripped out, he willingly exposed himself to something torturous (The trauma for Wen Qing doing that operation too, Wen Ning probably holding and watching WWX suffer).
And then he was thrown into the burial mounds, really? I think it is cruel to force him to talk about it, even more so when he does not recognize his suffering.
As a survivor, I understand the desire to deny what happened, not accept that something happened or deny that it hurts, because the moment you accept that pain it becomes real, there are processes and forcing someone without preparation to talk about it is cruel.
On the other hand, I really appreciate LWJ's reaction when he found out, because although he is upset and it is obvious, if we see someone we love suffer it hurts us. But seeking refuge in someone who is suffering is not right, we can turn to someone else with our pain, or wait until that person is stable enough and grieve together. If someone tells you their pain, we cannot ask that same person to comfort us, it does not mean keeping that pain, but looking for the right moment and support to deal with it.
algo que me gusta de la revelacion de nucleo dorado, y encuentro muy bueno el manejo de MXTX es que no es WWX quien la hace. La reacción de LWJ también me gusta, no busca consuelo, al menos no en WWX. Muchas veces ante algun evento traumático se obliga a la persona a revivirlo para contarlo, para que sea "honesta" y es revictimizar a esa persona, se deben respetar los espacios para quienes han sufrido traumas para hablar de eso y no obligar a hablar de ello.
Muchos fic obligan a WWX a revelar lo del núcleo dorado, mi visión al respecto es bastante contraria a JC stans. Creo que JC quería un núcleo, lo obtuvo a través de un favor de la difunta madre de WWX, lo que mas tarde le molesta es que sea el núcleo de WWX ( y no niego el trauma asociado a la tortura, porque lo azotaron y el derretimiento de su nucleo dorado).
por otro lado, para WWX independiente de si es voluntario, la cirugía es un trauma, emocional y físico. 2 dias y una noche, consciente mientras su núcleo dorado fue arrancado, se expuso voluntariamente a algo tortuoso (El trauma para Wen Qing al hacer esa operación también, Wen Ning al probablemente sostener y observar a WWX sufriendo).
Y luego fue arrojado a los tumulos funerarios, de verdad? creo que es cruel obligarlo a hablar de eso, mas aun cuando el mismo no reconoce su sufrimiento.
Como sobreviviente, entiendo el deseo de negar lo ocurrido, no aceptar que algo paso o negar que duele, porque en el momento en que aceptas ese dolor se hace real, son procesos y obligar a alguien sin preparacion a hablarlo es cruel.
por otro lado valoro mucho la reaccion de LWJ al enterarse, porque si bien se aflige y es obvio, si vemos sufrir a alguien que amamos nos duele. pero buscar refugio en alguien que sufre no es correcto, podemos recurrir a alguien mas con nuestro dolor, o esperar a que esa persona este lo suficientemente estable y afligirse juntos. si alguien te cuenta sus dolores, no podemos pedirle a esa misma persona que nos consuele, no implica guardar ese dolor, pero buscar el momento correcto y apoyo para lidiar con eso.
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day two of @serennedyweek : T4T!!
This isn’t nsfw but I hope it still counts!!!!! It’s just pure tooth-rotting fluff chendhendhsndj
Fic under cut!!
Luis flipped the pancakes slowly cooking on the hot pan with a flick of his wrist, shimmying them around the edges until they lay flat again. The morning sun creeping through the windowsill basked the eggs and cooked pancakes at his side in a picturesque glow, looking far too domestic for Luis’ liking.
He hummed along to the tune in his head, tapping his heels every so often as he slipped the third pancake onto the plate next to him. Luis could almost get completely lost in his mind, with the pattern of flipping pancakes becoming routine. But his thoughts were broken when he suddenly heard a loud, thud thud thud coming from the staircase.
“¡Buenos días mí amor!”
Luis turned the stove off to turn around and face Leon, who was making his way down the stairs with a tired, bleary look on his face. Luis smiled, watching Leon rub the sleep out of his eyes, blinking like a newborn deer.
It’d been three or so days since Leon had finally gotten Top Surgery, and similar to when Luis was rescued from Spain; he was basically keeping a constant eye on his lover. The first couple days were especially noteworthy, as even though Luis had told Leon about every single small thing to expect when coming out of Top Surgery, he could tell Leon was still not used to his movements being so restricted. And being constantly sore and achey.
“ Mornin’,” Leon groaned, his voice gravelly and low. Luis took mental note of his partners Compression Binder, which Leon was absentmindedly scratching at.
“Your voice sounds so sexy when you first wake up, cariño”
“ Ssshuddup” Leon grumbled at his partners teasing, struggle to hold back a smile while Luis giggled at his own bad joke. Luis didn't even notice at first when Leon wrapped his arms around his waist, burying his face in the back of his long hair. Luis leaned back a little, smiling
“How’re you feeling?”
“ Bad” was all Leon could say while muffled under his hair. Luis chuckled,
“I’m assuming you mean physically?”
“Yeah. Of coarse. Like obviously I’m excited to see my chest when this is all off, but…”
“You’re sore?”
Leon just signed, and Luis could feel his nose pressed up against his neck.
“I’m sore and I’m constantly aching and I feel like I’ve been smacked against a wall fifteen times”
“Haven’t you actually been smacked against a wall fifteen times before?”
Luis heard Leon grunt from behind him, clearly trying not to laugh at his poor attempt at a joke.
“lo siento, lo siento. It’s just too easy to tease you,” he leaned his head back to rest it on top of Leons, closing his eyes for a moment.
“Nothing else hurts though, no? No sharp pains?”
He could feel Leon shake his head in confirmation. “No. I just really wanna get this binder off. I got the damn surgery so I’d never have to wear one again ”
Luis let out what could only be described as a huff of air through his nose, leaning his arm back semi-awkwardly to scratch at his partners head.
“Do you need anything else, though?”
He could feel Leon hugging him tighter. Confirming his answer wordlessly.
“ Oh, Mi corazón, you just want a hug, huh?” Leon nodded. Luis felt bad for having to pry him off of his waist, with the blonde still clinging to him like a koala. He made a small noise of complaint, giving Luis the biggest most saddest kicked-puppy-dog eyes he’d ever seen in his entire life. He knew he’d have to bargain for his forgiveness.
“How about this,” Luis started, turning around to face Leon
“I serve you up breakfast, and then I can massage your poor-sore back for as long as you want. Deal?”
At the mention of ‘breakfast’, Leon’s eyes widened, adjacent to that of a dog hearing it’s favorite word.
“You cooked me breakfast?”
“Who did you think this was all for?” Luis waved his spatula over the countertop to highlight the food being served up. There was easily enough for two people, but Luis knew Leon ate like a teenage boy before and after his T-Shots.
Leon furrowed his eyebrows, “ Luis, seriously hun, you didint have to do all that for me..”
“Shush, Leon, I wanted to” Luis gave him a peck on the nose. “It’s not often I get to treat you like this”
Before Leon can object, a plate full of fresh eggs, bacon and a side of pancakes were shoved into his chest. “Now go eat this before it gets cold, ve, ve,” he shooed him to the table, following suit not long after tidying the countertop.
Luis was being honest; it wasn’t often he got to fully treat Leon like this. In-between missions and other ridiculous government requests, they’d often talked about domesticality and what their future together might look like. Luis, at least, liked to picture himself pampering Leon more often than he did now. Díos mío, he really was becoming a Househusband, wasn't he?
For a little bit, the two of them ate in silence. But that was mostly just because Leon took to shoveling his breakfast in his mouth like it was his last meal. Luis found it oddly charming. Resting his chin against his hand, he looked at his partner with a teasing, dreamy look. “ Oh mí muñeco, what on earth did you eat before you met me?”
Leon actually stopped chewing to consider his answer for a moment, before swallowing and responding, “Uh, I dunno, maybe like.. two minute noodles? Toast? Whatever was in the cupboard. Nothing like what you make me”
The Spaniard couldn’t help but bark a laugh, covering his mouth. “ Díos mío how did you not die?!”
“Well! In my defense! I’d usually go over to Chris or Claire’s after a mission!! They always had food in the fridge for me” Leon shoveled another fork-full of eggs into his mouth before he could dig his own grave any further. Luis just dramatically sighed like a disappointed parent
“Poor Chris”
“How long did I sleep in for?” Leon finally changed the subject after swallowing a mouthful of eggs, wiping the edges of his mouth with a spare tissue.
“It’s 10:50 now, so… about four-ish hours, no?”
“ It’s ten-to?!” Luis cringed as he watched Leon almost choke on his food. His expression was that of horror, like Luis had just told him that somebody died. Americans and their punctuality, he supposed.
“¡Más despacio! You needed the rest, querido!”
Luis remembered vividly just how damn much he slept after he initially got Top Surgery however many years ago. And back then he didn't even have a job to be tired about. But before Leon could open his mouth to argue, Luis interrupted him
“You’re recovering from a massive surgery, you need the sleep. Plus, the government basically gave us a whole months vacation. I say, ‘why not waste it and sleep the whole time?’”
Leon just smirked and glared at Luis, scrunching his nose a little. “ You just wanted an excuse to get a free month off, huh?”
Luis threw his head back and laughed, not meaning to be so loud- but Leon’s little pout was far too priceless.
“¡cómo te atreves!! I offer to take care of you for an entire month and this is the thanks I get?”
Luis knew that Leon knew he was joking. He was grateful for that, that they could poke jabs at each other without either getting defensive. But Luis was, again, being completely honest. And Leon wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Having a month off from the constant chain of life-threatening events was a welcome break in routine.
“Back on topic. Did anything happen while I was sleeping in?”
“ Such a worrier, mi príncipe - nothing happened. Oh actually, that’s a lie, Chris called you”
“ Really?” Leon seemed surprised at that. “What about?”
“He wanted to come over with Claire later, told me he had a surprise for you. He also told me not to tell you what it was, though”
Luis felt his chest grow warm at the sight of Leon’s genuine smile. It was nice, seeing him think so fondly of his friends. Luis was grateful for it.
“If you’re ok with it, I can ring them and tell them to pop round later, maybe?”
“I certainly don’t mind,” Luis nodded, collecting the empty plates.
“They’re lovely people” despite Luis’… uh, controversial past, Chris and Claire extended their gratitude for taking such good care of Leon. They were always nice to him, and Luis tried his best to make a good impression in return.
Luis glanced over at the clock, which now read 11:10. Which reminded him,
“Ah, speaking of time, your next T-Shot is due today, right? One day behind mine”
“Oh, yeah, almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me, love”
“No problem,” Luis took the empty dishes to the sink before Leon had a chance to get up. He cringed inwards sympathetically as he watched his partner wince a little while trying to push himself off the chair. “Do you need help?”
“With what? The shot, or standing up?”
“Ah, both”
Leon laughed, balancing himself upright and stretching a little, much to Luis’ relief.
“I can stand perfectly fine on my own, love,” he dramatically waved Luis away. “But if you’re offering, I certainly wouldn’t mind the help with my shots”
“trato,” Luis took his partners hand, regardless of how fine Leon seemed standing upright on his own. It was more reassurance for himself than anything else, really
“If you just wait on the couch, I’ll do grab everything else. Then I can give you that massage I promised”
Leon’s T-Shots took no time at all. The way their apartment windows were positioned had the sun beaming directly onto the couch, giving Luis more of an incentive to stare at his lover dreamily. His ashy-blonde hair framed his face like a halo, and the sun seemed to hit all the right spots to give Leon’s best features a glow. The bridge of his nose, his eyelashes, his cheekbones… Luis could easily sit there for hours and contemplate how he got so lucky.
“Eres muy hermoso, mi amor,” Luis’ gaze flickered between the needle in his hand and Leon’s face. Of which his cheeks were becoming a slight shade of pink as he turned to break the eye contact in embarrassment.
“Speak for yourself” was all he could grumble, his lower face buried in his palm as Luis smiled. He lifted the now-filled needle up to the sun, flicking the tube a couple times to disperse the air bubbles.
After having done this for well over a decade, both men were very well-acquainted with getting their T-Shots done. It was like second nature, they just talked through it like nothing was happening. Surprisingly, that happened a lot during especially difficult missions, too. Luis noted how interesting it was that they’d built such small but meaningful patterns with one-another over time. Giving the side of his stomach a small wipe-down with alcoholic pads (and a kiss for good luck), Luis finally sat up straight on the couch to make do with his offer. Putting a pillow on the floor for support, Leon sat in-between his legs on the floor- leaning forward as slightly as he could as Luis began to rub as gently as humanly possible against Leon’s Compression Binder.
Hearing a long sigh of relief, Luis knew he was doing a good job and kept up the pace. Although it was quite a few years ago now, the Spaniard still remembered what it was like getting Top Surgery for himself. All the stereotypical feelings; pure and utter Euphoria, this sense of freedom he’d never felt in his life, unadulterated joy, etc etc etc- but he also remembered the first few days just being so delicate and sore. As any surgery recovery was bound to be. So giving Leon any sense of relief was the least he could do.
For a little while, they talked about what plans Leon had after he fully recovered. Beaches he’d always wanted to swim at, shirts he’d never worn up until now, etc etc… Luis joked that he was just happy Leon wasn’t fighting zombies in a Binder anymore. That got a painful laugh out of Leon.
After at least a couple minutes of silence (of which Luis was half-convinced Leon had fallen asleep), He heard his lover finally speak;
“…Thank you, for this..”
Luis waited patiently for him to finish his sentence, slowing down the little circles he was making with his hands.
“I mean it, really… I’m really, really glad I have you here”
Luis had to keep himself from going full-toothed smile as he leaned down to kiss the top of Leons’ head.
“Of coarse, mi amor. I know what recovering feels like all too well”
“N-no, I don’t mean that… well, kinda,” Leon began stuttering over his sentence.
“I’m glad you’re helping me with the whole recovery, obviously, but also with just… Everything. The missions, the late nights, all those goddamn zombies… you’ve like, stuck by my side through it all. I never ever thought I’d get a partner, or even somebody to love outside od work but..”
Leon reached his arm over to grasp onto Luis’ hand.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I love you a lot”
It took every single damn fiber in his being to Leo Luis from crying.
And even then, he failed. Tears welling up, he could feel his heart being squeezed; he gave up on trying to be conservative and let himself smile from ear-to-ear. Luis leaned down to bury his face in Leon’s hair, sniffling to himself in Spanish; “ Oh mi querido, ¿Qué hice para merecerte? ¿Qué hice para merecerte, huh?”
“Oh shit you’re crying- I’m so, so sorry I didn't-“
“ Cállate, Cállate,” Luis playfully teased, giving Leon a weak whack on the shoulder.
“Y-you, Sancho, are far too kind to me”
Leon turned himself around, laughing at the pure wholesomeness of it all. Luis could feel his calloused hand against his cheek, wiping away tears he didn't even notice were there.
“Sancho? Haven’t heard that in a while”
It was Luis’ turn to laugh now, reaching his hand up to cup the one already on his cheek.
“You’re right. It’s been too long”
Like clockwork, Luis leaned down to lay a kiss on Leon’s lips, cupping the sides of his face with his own hands. The sun through the window must’ve made his skin warm, because his own skin felt uncharacteristically cold. Not that Leon seemed to mind at all, turning his head to the left slightly to get a better position. Luis leaned down as far as he could for him, but when Leon tried to twist his body any further- he broke away from the kiss with a sharp gasp
“ Ow ow ow, ow that hurt-“
“mierda!! Are you alright?-“ Luis was up-and-arms, already tensed and ready to run and grab the ice packs from the freezer, but his shoulders fell in relief when he heard a (slightly pained) laugh from Leon.
“Sorry, sorry!! That just hurt a little”
Luis signed, giving Leon an exaggerated pout.
“Cariño, if you scare me like that again, so help me I’ll.. I dunno yet, but something will happen, I promise you”
That got the blonde to successfully laugh again, which was all he needed to hear. Luis could listen to that man’s laughter like it was background noise all day if it was possible.
“ L-Luis- s-stop making me laugh, please!!”
Leon clutched his side, semi-dramatically
“It hurts!!”
“Weeeeellll, y’know, if you need a doncella to help you massage you….”
“ Stop it!!!”
#ericswriting#serennedy#serennedyweek2023#serennedy week 2023#serennedy week#luis sera fanfic#luis serra fanfic#leon kennedy fanfic#leon s kennedy fanfiction#luis serra#luis sera#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#trans leon kennedy
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Medical update: went in for my first post-op appointment today and was delivered the news that the reason why my current condition is not life-threatening is because i am on testosterone. Being on T has literally stalled the progression of my endometrium (which, fun fact, is no longer in my pelvic area and is now chilling midway to my abdomen!!! the incredible pain i went in for? in my rib area? was my fucking uterus (well, one of my ovaries) literally fucking exploding) to the point that I'm good to chill until whenever I feel like getting everything removed.
like, straight up, that fucker exploded. "I say we could just remove the ovaries.... but there's hardly anything left?" said my doctor, bewildered out of her mind.
the insanely expensive and months-long procedure doesn't need to happen because be being on HRT has already been doing the job. meaning, had i not been on HRT, not only would it have progressed, it would have perforated vital organs long ago and my numbskull of a stubborn ass would've just tried to tough it out to very very very bad consequences.
so like. in short, T has managed to save my life twice now. physically this time. now it's just a game of hopping nothing else explodes, but if anything does, my doc's got a game plan for damage control this time around.
turns out that leaving endometriosis to run rampant in your body for almost twenty years is no bueno.
#medical tw#can't believe being a tranny saved my ass#but also shout-out to this doctor for being both a genius and treating me like an actual human being
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
A malware
- She/ He/ They
-Is the son/daughter of Fresh and Error (both by @/loverofpiggies )
- 17 years old
-Is 1.76m tall
-Genderfluid
-Pansexual/Panromantic
-Has the ability to modify them own code, being able to change things like them gender, stats, attacks and physical appearance. Except for them eyes and the colored spots they have.
-Modifying they own code is usually painful, so most of the time they are in them base form.
-They usually steals information about the code of the AUs to sell it or for they own benefit
-They are calm and ambiverted
-They likes to dance and eat at parties, they have a good time even if they don't talk to many people
-They base attack is threads.
WAIT WAIT WAIT, I have sketches of some appearance changes of this child
Rombertik can be human or monster, male or female...They can be anything... Except someone with normal eyes or without spots - LOL-
Bueno chau
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
loneliness
hi, how are you?
i'm a bit hungover. listening to soft indie music, staring out the window. lots of birds chirping out there. the window is slightly open, enough to let an occasional cool breeze in. sunsetz by cigerettes after sex just came on. i am feeling pretty mellow. which isn't the worst place to be. i like it here. i missed it here. i forget how soft and slow time could feel. how sweet melancholy could be.
i've been thinking about loneliness lately. what causes it. what cures it. and all the things we do to get away from it. my favorite description of this feeling came from glennon doyle's book, the love warrior. she called it "the hot loneliness".
"The warrior journey is staying present with love and pain. Feeling them both, letting them bubble up in my body and come and go without hitting an easy button to escape. Without overeating or boozing or shopping or sexing or snarking or scrolling my way off my mat. Believing that anger, unbelonging, loneliness, fear, doubt—all of these, too, shall pass. And I would survive them all, remembering that all the courage and wisdom I need to become the woman I want to be is inside my love and my pain. If I transport out of it, I will miss my transformation. I must stop being afraid of pain and start being afraid of easy buttons.
Let the hot loneliness come, let it go, and let it leave you with the courage, wisdom and fuel you'll need to get your work done on this earth."
we don't get to feel this 'hot loneliness' others feel. we don't talk about it. we only see what they choose to share. but trust me, you are not alone in feeling this. it is a feeling that washes over me from time to time. an awareness that i am the only person who will ever experience what it is like to be me. the funny thing about loneliness is that knowing you are not alone in feeling this has no discernable affect on the experience itself. it is also not determined by the number of people you are surrounded by. some of my loneliest moments were in a room full of people. then there were times that i've felt wholly surrounded by love and connection -- when it was just me, my journal, and trees. loneliness also has nothing to do with physical proximity. in fact, trying to cure loneliness with physical intimacy without any emotional intimacy leaves you feeling even lonelier. it's like drinking salt water because you are thirsty. no bueno. i've noticed that loneliness has a lot more to do with how seen you feel by another person you love and admire.
the biggest cure for loneliness i've found for myself is reading. back in highschool whenever i felt sad, lonely, or anxious; i would go to the library and sit in the aisles. sometimes with a book, sometimes with my journal and a pen. i took comfort in knowing that the answers to all of my questions about life were in these ivory pages. i've never felt more seen than from reading a book.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
INTRODUCING . . . THE SANTOS' .
ORIGIN : buenos aires , argentina .
my father had the kind of anger all fathers do . loud and terrible . it lingers for your whole life .
MATÍAS SANTIAGO SANTOS ( javier bardem ) : father , deceased , passed in 2012 at age 39 . occupation : bum .
JADE SANTI REYES SANTOS ( maia reficco ) : herself , age 25 . occupation : singer song - writer , influencer , actress .
VALENTINA MARÍA REYES SANTOS ( penelope cruz ) : mother , age 45 . occupation : contemporary dance teacher in a small town .
tw : parental physical abuse , addiction , alcoholism , drug use , overdose , death .
growing pains .
valentina reyes meets matías santos when she is twelve years old and he is seventeen years old , next door neighbors in a small town in argentina . the boy from the wrong side of the tracks . he's charming , rugged , and everything her father has warned her about even at the ripe age of a pre teen . she's a preachers daughter , the definition of a god given girl , and yet she's no better than eve -- tempted to bite into the apple .
casted out of the garden at eighteen years old , after marrying the man she'd been forbidden to be near , she follows the now twenty three year old to buenos aires . her family disowns her , all she has now is the man who had seen her become a woman and played a role in her doing so . with a population of millions , it's the largest city in argentina and thus the most promising . he speaks of moving to america , of the country where dreams come true , where they both could amount to much more than their small country can promise for them .
she's a dancer , he's whatever he has to become to get money . their ticket to the unites states is booked a year later and at nineteen she has to assimilate to a culture she knows nothing about . neither of them speak english , a small town in connecticut being their safe haven , but it doesn't discourage them . matías finds a job in construction , valentina deciding to use her talent for dance at a local theater that offered after school dance lessons to children .
they're in love , a modern romeo and juliet , and they don't have much but it's enough for them . they don't dare ask for more , content to cuddle up after long days of work together in their small apartment . they miss argentina but they're thankful , hopeful in their new home . in their love . the pair spent days roaming the city , going on dates , learning english together . matías would save up to take her to plays in the big city , would spend his nights massaging her shoulders and singing her love songs in their native language . life was good . simple , but oh so good .
one cold , bitter night in winter , valentina comes down with a bug . she can't keep anything down , throwing up absolutely everything she puts into her body , temperature warm and nauseous . matías calls off work , playing nurse but when it continues for the next three days , he's terrified . a trip to the doctor confirms news they never planned for , valentina at twenty one years old was with child . she believes it to be a happy occasion . why wouldn't a pair so in love want to bring a child , their child , into the world .
except the news of an unborn child weighs on matías . he was able to provide for the two of them but he wasn't so sure he'd make ends meet for a family of three . he begged her to reconsider , playing the card that she was too young to be a mother , but valentina refused . she'd have this child , with or without him . matías relented , stayed . but he began seeking answers from the bottom of a beer bottle . every night after work , instead of attending to his pregnant wife , he went out with the construction crew . beer turned into liquor , liquor turned into weed , weed turned into cocaine , cocaine . and matías santos turned into an addict .
an ugly addict , but a controlled one . he cussed , he yelled . but valentina believed he would overcome it . that when he met their child , he'd change . he was worried , now , but he'd soon see that they could provide for their baby . she held onto the hope that they'd be a happy family .
one night , eight months into her pregnancy , her water breaks . matías is out , drunk , and she only has neighbor to rely on as she pounds on her door and begs her to take her to a hospital . after ten hours of labor , ten hours where matías passed out on the couch of a stranger , jade santi reyes santos was introduced to the world .
perhaps seeing his child , a spitting image of her parents , triggered something in the male . because if anyone believed he was bad before , it turned worse . while before he at least waited until he was off work to get high off his ass , that didn't seem to be enough anymore . his entire day was spent high , drunk , belligerent . valentina held the family together as best as she could , praying that matías would revert back to the man she had fell in love with . but that man had died , and in place was a shell .
as jade grows , so does his anger . for all her mother assured her , jade did not see her father as a good man . did a good man yell at his wife about the littlest things , did a good man scare his wife into cowering in his presence , did a good man lay his hand on his wife ? she didn't know much , but she knew a good man did none of those things . but valentina was alone , no support system and she dug her nails into the body of the man she loved . despite his addiction , she couldn't help but love him . suddenly , taking out his anger on his wife wasn't enough . he figured why not take out it on the person who ruined his life , his daughter . every day he'd tear her down with words , tell jade that she was nothing . that he had never wanted her . that she was the worst thing to happen to them . and when his words seemed to not make an impact anymore , his hands did . he began to hit her daily .
at the age of fourteen , some random tuesday where the birds sang a familiar tune , jade received a call while in her third period . matías santiago reyes had died . an overdose . and , as twisted as it was , she breathed out a sigh of relief . hummed along with the birds .
1 note
·
View note
Text
Artist Research Blog - Alessandra Sanguinetti
Alessandra Sanguinetti was born in NYC in 1968. She later moved to Buenos Aires, Argentina, where she spent most of her childhood until 2001, where she would move back to New York, and now she is currently residing in California. She is a member of Magnum Photos, and she published a lot of her work in well-known magazines, such as the New York Times. You can find her photographs in the public and private collections of Museum of Modern Art, the San Francisco Museum of Modern, and plenty other museums. It is said that she became interested in photography at a young age, taking interest in other amazing photographer’s work such as Dorothea Lange’s books.
I will be looking at Sanguinetti’s project titled, The Adventures of Guille and Belinda and the Illusion of an Everlasting Summer. This series follows Sanguinetti’s two cousins, Guille and Belinda, from the ages of 14 to 24. This book is considered the second volume that captures the life of these girls living in their hometown in Argentina. It depicts their lives which consist of a rural setting, with beautiful landscapes and animals roaming around. The time from adolescence and young adulthood is a beautiful experience filled with young romance, motherhood, and independence from their families. What I find amazing about this project is that it shows the passage of time and how time can feel timeless when you look through these photographs. Multiple themes are being explored in this project – intimacy, friendship, identity, family, and most important of all, time.
The book shows a lot of powerful portraits with amazing color schemes and powerful compositions. For instance, there is an image with a monochromatic color scheme, the one with the baby laying on the bed surrounded by people that are admiring the baby. The placement of the people surrounding the baby forms a triangle shape, putting emphasis on the baby (subject), but then we see the girl nearest to the right side of the image, with a red vest, that slightly contrasts with the overall blue tones. Another image that I found striking was the portrait of a pregnant women looking at the viewer, while her body is facing her left side. She is also holding what appears to be a kitchen knife. This can convey multiple things, the knife can symbolize sharp pain, either physical or psychological pain.
Overall, I really enjoyed looking into Sanguinetti’s work. I would like to do something like her work. Her images remind me of the times I would look at my mother’s old photo albums, how before they would have physical images rather than digital ones. My mother would take photos of her family and friends, print them, and send them to Mexico, like a postcard for my grandmother. I think it is interesting to capture the ordinary things in life, it allows us to share our stories through powerful images.
Sources:
0 notes
Text
PURSUIT: EPISODE THREE
(Warning: Coarse Language and Mild Violence)
Pain wriggled like a parasite in his guts. Was it anxiety? Nerves and fear about walking into a meeting with a dozen of the most ruthless sort of people on the planet, and purposefully handing them loaded automatic weapons?
The agitated thing twisted in his stomach. And growled.
Oh. Well, that made more sense. He was just hungry. Had been surviving off cowboy coffee and processed garbage power bars for far too long.
Remy Sinclair patted his lean (maybe getting too lean) stomach, promising it a real meal, with real food, after this initial meet was over. Then he grabbed a handful of his t-shirt and used it to wipe the sweat off his face. All those people who wanted to live in the tropics, Remy didn’t think they understood what it was really like, the unrelenting equatorial sun, no reprieve from the heat. Of course, working in it was different than vacationing in it. And smuggling was an extremely physical endeavor.
Remy wanted to be done with this job. He wanted to leave the tropical region of the planet. Well, he supposed this part of Mexico might technically be north of the tropics, but not by much and damn, was it still irrepressibly hot.
“¿Cuánto tiempo?” Remy asked of the men who had met him at the back gate to the property, searched him and escorted him to this wonderful, remote, could-hide-untold-numbers-of-bodies mostly-forested acreage.
Patience was a virtue he sometimes possessed, but most of the time did not.
“Soon,” the one in charge replied in Spanish. “The boss knows you are here and is on his way.”
Remy nodded, studied the sprawling house in the distance, wondered if there was a cook on staff. And how fluffy the beds were. Probably better than the cots in the bowels of Nadira’s rustbucket smuggler’s vessel. There were probably showers… bathtubs… jacuzzis… even a swimming pool?
Fuck, he needed a real bath. Or shower. Or dip in a pool. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. And the layer of grime coating his skin was certainly rendering him a beggar. But he expected no invite to that fancy house. Nor did he want one, to be frank. (He wanted to finish this job and move onto the next.)
He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, even though it was likely of little use, just smearing sweat and dirt around. And oh, boy, here came some more dirt, being kicked up off the primitive roadway into clouds as vehicles approached from the mansion.
It took an interminable amount of time for the vehicles to reach where Remy had been directed to park his own rented truck, with its case of ill-gotten weapons in the back, just a small sample of what was in the cargo hold of Leuk’s Song.
“Buenos dias,” Remy greeted the men who exited the somehow shiny SUVs. They must have an employee whose full-time job is just washing the dust off the cartel’s fleet of vehicles.
It was obvious who was in charge even before the man stepped forward to greet Remy and introduce himself. He was shorter than Remy, but not short. He had dark hair and dark eyes, a tan that would’ve looked fake on a white American but suited him fine, and a smile that was both charming and incredibly insincere.
Remy returned the snake’s smile. He was good at it. A charming smile, whether real or not, was a handy tool in anyone’s repertoire, but especially for someone in Remy’s line of business, which was a little bit of everything.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Calixto,” Remy said in Spanish, shaking the man’s hand.
“We can speak in English.” Máximo Tomas Calixto Balan, head of the Tlatoani Cartel, surveyed Remy with keen interest before releasing his hand from his firm grasp. Maybe the grime was a good thing, an extra layer of protection against scrutiny. Not that Remy’s purpose for being there was anything but what he’d stated; to sell them some merchandise.
“Whatever you prefer,” Remy said.
Calixto nodded, then continued in English. Remy wondered if he enjoyed keeping some of his men, who perhaps didn’t understand the foreign language, in the dark? He seemed the controlling, superior type. But what crime boss, drug lord, or dictator, wasn't?
“So, what is it you have for me today?”
FINISH READING ON WATTPAD (FOR FREE)!
#story: Pursuit#wattpad#free story#free romance#romantic thriller#romantic suspense#serial story#adult romance#eventual smut#multiple POVs
1 note
·
View note
Text
Heat Chapter 24: Chemistry
As a belated birthday kick in the ass to myself, here is some much-needed Javi x Querida smut and fluff. Well, mostly smut and fluff 😌
If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know~!
Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida
Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.
Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞
Word Count: 16,000+
Summary: Once you and Javi are alone on his turf, you can't help question how long this honeymoon phase will last, so when shades of your past cast doubt in you, will you let perceived burdens dictate your feelings?
Warnings: The WONDERFUL Javier Peña, graphic depictions of sex, including unprotected sex. Mentions of menstrual pain, raunchy conversations, allusions to past trauma, unhealthy relationships, abusive ex, physical and emotional violence, gun violence, and angst. Protective!Javi, Tender!Javi, Possessive!Javi, Soft!Javi, Boss!Javi. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.
Heat Masterlist
Previous chapter - Chapter 23: Coffee
Chapter 24: Chemistry
You wake up early the next morning feeling clumsy with exhaustion, eyes fluttering and focusing on the alarm clock. There's still a few minutes before it's supposed to go off, so you lie on your side and just relax, smiling to yourself when your hearing tunes and sharpens to Javi's purring snore. You covertly glance over your shoulder and see he's sprawled out on his stomach, hogging most of the bed, which has relegated you to hug the edge of your side of the mattress. His broad, smooth tanned back rises and falls with his calm, deep breathing. Fuzzily, you stretch and sit up slightly, stifling your yawn before your eyes focus more and finally notice the glass of water tucked on a coaster on the nightstand next to you.
Smiling, you realize Javi must've gotten up during the night and gone to quench his thirst before setting a glass aside for you, just in case. You take it and drink greedily from it, feeling quite parched after all of the salacious indulgences of the night before. Just as you let out a contented sigh and set the empty glass aside, the alarm goes off. Javi begins to stir, so you quickly turn the blaring off and shift to sit at the side of the bed so you can stretch out your back.
You hear him roll over and grumble wordlessly before slinking closer so he can drape an arm around your lap. "Mornin', corazón," he mumbles sleepily and gives you an affectionate squeeze.
Smiling, you loop your arm backwards to massage his nape dotingly. "Buenos días, mi patrón," you purr, tone still a bit raspy from disuse.
That snaps him completely awake. "…You are such a damn atrevida," he growls irreverently and bounds up to encircle your waist with both arms so he can haul you to press back against his chest while he mercilessly nuzzles kisses into your shoulder and neck.
Your giggle is smoky and silly as you wriggle in his grasp, fending him off so you can stay sat upright. "I'm only messing around! No need to retaliate," you chime and swat his comforter-covered ass before pivoting to sit with a leg folded under you so you can gaze down at him and ruffle his bed-hair. "You know, you have the cutest snore," is your derisive musing, which earns a dry grunt from Javi. "I'm serious. I know I've told you before; sound like a big cat purring—"
"Ugh, that doesn't sound cute at all, cariño," he rumbles and pouts as he stretches the kinks out of his back before yawning. "Hmph, meanwhile, you don't snore. You just whip me in the face with your hair—"
"Oh no! Still?" you frown and idly fiddle with your hair and the shoulder strap of your baby doll.
He grunts in the affirmative and slinks to sit up, swinging his legs over to the side of the bed so he can sit next to you. "If we start off spooning, though, it doesn't happen as much," he remarks as he herds you against his side so he can bury his nose into the top of your mussed hair. You make a displeased sound, so he cheekily grips your waist and mutters, "It's fine. Don't get all grumpy about it," he teases, so you scoff and wryly pinch his side when you go to get up. "Nope. Where you going," he chides playfully and pulls you down to sit and straddle his comforter-clad lap, pawing his hands down your silky curves before settling them at your hips.
"Babe, c'mon…" you protest, but curl into him regardless, huffing contentedly when he pulls you tight to him.
"We got time, so let me hold you," he murmurs against the side of your head. You sigh and melt into him at that, relishing his warm skin and comforting embrace. While he holds you, you notice your senses are sharpening, and you're feeling a tender cramp in your lower back. But mostly, you're focusing on how ripe you and Javi's scents are, and trying not to feel self-conscious about it. "Hm, you smell so good…"he sighs out as he noses your hair.
"And you smell like pussy," you tell him comically, biting your lip to stifle your laugh when he leans back and gapes at you. "Well, you do, sir—"
"How the hell would you know what pussy smells like anyway?!" he counters crassly, lopsided smirk goading.
"Oh my god, because I have one, you jodón. As if you don't know what dick smells like—?" you jab sardonically.
"Not intimately, no," he remarks puckishly and sniffs himself, causing you to cackle sardonically. "I don't see any issue with how I smell—"
"Hah! You wouldn't, because you're a beyako pervertido," you giggle out, laughing harder when he starts irreverently hugging and nuzzling you in retaliation. "No! C'mon, Javi, I stink too. Stop—!" your bubbly squeal when Javi grabs your ass and suckles a kiss into your neck cuts off your exclamation and causes you to wiggle in his lap – ending up pressing flush over his thick hard-on when the blanket shifts and it juts up between your thighs.
He groans when you undulate to rub yourself against him, and while you thread your fingers in his tousled hair and tug him to meet your lips, Javi's already shifting to guide his cock to nudge up between your soaked folds before pressing into your tight slit. You moan, and he pulls you down onto his lap as he buries himself into your molten heat, grunting hotly against your jaw, "You got me this hard from how good you smell, guapita."
That makes your core flood with arousal and pulse wet want into the clutch of your sheath. "Fuck, you're lying, fresco—" you begin to tease when he bucks you down on him, stealing your breath.
"You know the effect your sexy scent has on me," he growls and watches you lean back and roll your hips at an angle that slams his cock into that cluster of pleasure nestled deep inside you. "S-Shit, do that again, hermosa," he groans gruffly, and your grip on his shoulders tightens as you blush and toss your head back from the next hard roll that has his thick sex punching up into your core. His hands grip your hips and help rock you over his lap while he fucks up into you.
Javi lustfully watches your breasts jiggle through the taut silk of the baby doll from the force of the slams down onto him. He's salivating at how your nipples are jabbing into the fabric while you arch and squeeze your knees around his lap. "Oh—Javi, oh god," you gasp out when he picks up the pace of his fucking up into you after he feels your cunt start to flutter around him. "Ah!" you cry out when he wraps his arms around your waist and starts plunging you down onto him, hitting your pleasure point dead center and plucking a taut tether of hot bliss inside you that is threatening to snap loose. "Oh god, so c-close, mmm, Javi!" you wail, warning him as you feel yourself about to shake apart.
"Feel it, baby. Getting so tight—starting to strangle my cock," he croons in a tight baritone as he plants his feet and starts hammering his thrusts up into you, which makes you see fireworks burst in the backs of your eyes, so you bowl into him, clinging to his shoulders and keening needy whimpers into his skin. "Y-Yeah, c'mon, sweet girl, come for me. Ride my cock—let go, give it to me," he coaxes ardently and nuzzles you when your lower half locks up from the force of your orgasm.
You wail, "Ja-Javi!" into his neck, breath catching and sounding like a sob as you flood over with fuzzy, crackling pleasure. You come all over his cock before your inner walls wring and clamp down on him, mind hazing over with sizzling, blinding ecstasy.
The power of your body demanding for him to bury deep and pump his climax into your trembling core makes him pussy-dumb, completely fuck-drunk as he shudders and moans, holding onto you like you're his lifeline. Molding you possessively to him while he empties his orgasm into your ravenous core. He can't even articulate words. Just hum and grunt unabashed sounds of content satisfaction as he comes down from the whirlwind of bliss he got swept up in. His panting lips are wet from his tongue dampening them when he buries his face in the crook of your neck.
You are tingling, no – vibrating from the force of your orgasm, feeling utterly blissed out and like you're slowly melding into him; becoming one deliriously sated being. It isn't until he let's out a hearty exhale that you stir and realize Javi collapsed to lie backwards on the bed, with you clinging to his torso like you're afraid of floating off. His warm palms are caressing languid circles over your back, nose pressed into the spot just behind your ear to nuzzle your sweaty hairline and sigh contentedly.
"Smell so good…can't get enough," Javi mumbles dazedly, smile obvious after he presses a kiss to the column of your neck and husks, "Makes me feel grounded."
You curl into him and sigh. "Chemistry," you remark dimly, as if more to yourself than to him. "Always great…your scent, your taste, your touch—just…" your stream of fuzzy conscious is grasping at concepts you know, that you read about, but can't articulate properly because you're still glazed over with delight. An intrepid part of you wants to say 'We were made for each other,' but it can't get free from the tangle of your weighty thoughts.
Javi rumbles a pleased, albeit spent sound as he starts petting your mussed hair. "Whatever it is…makes everything feel right. Being like this, having you warm and tierna in my arms. It's all I ever want, mi amor," he tells you in a genuine, honeyed murmur.
You turn your face and dreamily kiss his cheek before mustering the effort of slinking up to stare with open adoration in your gleaming gaze into his handsome features. His brown eyes flare chestnut from the sun's rays coming through the slats of the windows, and the early morning light gives your dewy skin a glow and catches in the twinkle of your eye as you cup his cheek and smile down at him.
"Keep saying things like that, and I might never let you leave this bed, querido," you chime silkily and caress your touch to cup the hinge of his jaw and pull him up to meet your passionate kiss.
It's a great way to start your morning – both smitten and unburdened by insecurities. Javi can't stop smiling. Not while he ushers you into your shared morning shower, not while you both brush your teeth in front of the medicine cabinet mirror – where you stood at the sink and Javi was tucked up behind you, and definitely not while he watches you now. He's pretty much dressed already, having gotten a head start while you blow-dried your hair, so he's able to doddle while he stares at you. You're in a black panty and bra set, standing in front of your mirror while you hold up two blouse options and try to decide which would look best with your eye-catching bronze plaid blazer. He's sitting on the fresh sheet-covered side of the bed while he stares fondly at you, distractedly putting his shoes on and smiling when you catch his gaze in the mirror.
His smirk is infectious, so you give him a flirty look and whirl to hold up the two blouses. "What? Do you have a preference?" you lilt, holding up the black pleated blouse and the Mandarin-collared black blouse for his scrutiny.
Your hair is brushed back, so he gets lost admiring your slender shoulders and the elegant slope of your neck – how delicate the dip of your clavicle and the expanse of your collarbones look. "I think they'll both look equally nice on the floor later tonight," he croons and leans back on his splayed hands, giving you an amused, pouty smirk.
You scoff amusedly and roll your eyes before tossing the pleated blouse to the end of the bed before removing the hanger from the Mandarin-collared one. "You're impossible," you chuckle as you pull on the blouse and grab the black skirt from the dresser. He's smirking wider now, his dimple revealed as he stands and comes up behind you to feign like he's going to just finger comb his hair while standing behind you to look at himself in the mirror. Once finished tucking the blouse into your skirt, you wiggle your derrière at him. "Zip me up, please?"
He licks his lips and pulls the zipper carefully up for you, smoothing out the material of the high-waisted pencil skirt while his dark brewed eyes stare flirtatiously at yours in the mirror's reflection. "This skirt seems stretchy enough for you to be able to hike it up," he offers intriguingly, hands caressing the curve of your hips, before suggestively purring, "Might need to wear it the day you decide to ride me in my office—"
An excited tickle skitters down your body to pulse in your core warmly, but you huff and playfully slap his hands away before grumbling "Javier, that was just a naughty fantasy. You agreed: no messing around at work. No sexy encounters at the embassy, and you said you'd behave and be professional—"
"I said a lot of things," he deadpans, instigating you to glare at him in the mirror. "I meant it all, querida. You can't blame me for wanting to get a rise out of you," Javi chuckles and smiles when you dramatically shake your head at him and go to storm away. He takes the chance and taps your ass as you go, and you squeak before whirling and smacking his light-gray-slacks-wearing ass hard in retaliation. He only betrays a humored grunt from the swat and yanks his blue tie around his shirt collar. "But I do remember telling you I couldn't make any promises during our status reports," he teases as he faces the mirror to finish getting ready while you return the other blouse and empty hanger to the closet before retrieving a pair of patent leather Mary Jane pumps. At your amusedly exasperated huff, he turns to watch you set the shoes next to the blazer you chose while he absently works on his tie.
"Oh, that reminds me. Did Stoddard let you know we had to reschedule the first status report to next week?" you inquire as you saunter over to the dresser to open your jewelry box and rifle through it for a fetching pair of earrings you think will look nice.
He notices the sparkling trove of glimmering, twinkling adornments before flicking his glance up and getting lost admiring your beatific profile sans makeup and focused on looking for the bronzy stud earrings you're rifling for. "Yeah. Meetings are crazy this week, so we had to shift it out," he answers and folds his shirt collar down, giving up on the tie as he watches you press your lips together into a thin line while you hum and keep your gaze focused on the jewelry box's little mirror while you fasten the sunburst-styled studs into your earlobes. His gaze sharpens, reading your attempt at keeping your expression aloof. "Huh. Alright, out with it," he declares in a bass-roughened drawl.
Blinking over at him, you give him a lopsided smirk and raise your delicate brows innocently. "What?" you chirp, and he just gives you 'the look' – his patented cop regard, as he puts his hands on his hips and grunts for you to drop the act. "I didn't even say anything—"
"You didn't have to. I know when you're shoving something under the rug," he counters and quirks a demanding brow at you.
"It's nothing! I just thought how funny it was that both our deputies had different reasons for moving the meeting to next week, is all," you remark simply and grab your brush in order to park in front of the full-length mirror so you can start combing and styling your thick tresses into a neat up-do.
"And? What was Rose's reason for changing it?" he queries as he turns to lean his hip in the dresser while he watches you twist up your hair into a chic chignon.
"That is something that can wait until next week—" you try to obfuscate while you brush the rogue wisps and tendrils to frame your face better.
"Consider this the unofficial status report, then," he debonairly remarks and crosses his arms when you finally turn and put a hand on your hip peevishly. "Well, you said last night my team's doing poorly," he fishes, arching a brow. "C'mon, we can't discuss this stuff during the coffee dates," he rumbles and leans on his pivoted arm casually.
You sigh and relent, putting the brush down on the dresser before you go sit and start putting on your shoes. "Fine, chavón," you snicker once you have one pump on and are fastening the strap around your ankle on the other. "Ellis told me some of your subordinates in the pilot are resistant to the training. It got reported up to him, and he figured it'd be best to have the week to remedy it, and only disclosing it if the issue continued," you tell Javi diplomatically and cross your legs before leaning back on your propped arms. "Hence, why I figured I'd just hold off on telling you until the meeting next week—"
"I want names," he remarks, pushing off the dresser he was leaning on so he can grumpily put his hands on his hips. "That's bullshit and I'm not gonna let anyone on my staff dick around like that. I'll straighten it out—"
You exhale musingly and stand in order to saunter over and wrap your arms around his waist. "Don't start cracking skulls yet, gruñón," you tut wryly and peck him on the lips. "Jackie, the one handling the training, is competent, so I'm sure she'll resolve it. If not, I'll let you know next week," is your neutral musing as you lean into him and give him an affectionate squeeze. "Sound good?"
He huffs a cleansing breath out his nose and nods before smirking as he cups your ass in his large, cheeky hands. "Damn, you're good at this," he purrs, tone velvety as he adds, "Wish you were my boss lady."
"Pfft, I'm pretty sure I was last night, atrevido," you purr and grab his belt, giving it a confident tug, earning an enticed hum from him. "I have five minutes between meetings after 2pm, so…coffee date then?"
"Yeah, I can swing that," he retorts smoothly and squeezes your ass, kissing your cheek before he's caught the time on the alarm clock. "Fuck, I gotta go," he grabs his watch and clasps it onto his left wrist while you hustle to grab his blazer for him and grin when he takes it from you and laces his hand in yours so he can tow you down the hall and to the front door. Once he's shrugged into the blazer and pocketed all his belongings, he can't help the tickle in his breastbone when you sprint to the fridge and return with his packed lunch.
"Lo veo luego, mi patrón," you silkily murmur and give him a sultry look that has arousal flaring hotly in him before you steal a hungry kiss from his lips.
Fuck, Javi internally groans, getting really turned on by the ridiculous term of endearment that's so damned charged with unsavory connotations that it should not rile him up with yearning.
You can sense how wound up with lewd delight he gets from the new pet name, so you're not surprised when the kiss becomes a bit torrid. He rakes his mouth down your neck, letting his moustache tickle your heated skin before he suckles a kiss into your pulse point. "Why must you tease me so fucking good before I leave," he growls and pinches your ass impishly.
Chuckling and slinking away to open the door, you charm, "You can't blame me for loving to get a rise out of you."
The amended smug remark he'd purred at you before pleases him, so he steals one last kiss from your plush lips before murmuring, "I love you, traviesa."
"Love you too, coqueto," you purr and pinch his ass as he saunters out, giggling when he grunts comically and shoots you a faux haughty look over his shoulder before he bounds down the stairs. Once he's striding across the courtyard, you find yourself wistfully admiring his confident swagger until he's out of sight.
Going to finish getting ready, you make short work of primping your makeup before spritzing some perfume to your wrists and dabbing them daintily at the sides of your neck before slinking your plaid blazer on. You're halfway done grabbing all your things to bound towards the door when your house phone rings. Checking your watch, you decide you can spare the time to go answer it. "Hello?"
"Ah! I knew the area code on the caller ID meant you'd been the one to call," the lilting voice remarked before chirping, "It's Irina! I hope it's not too early to have called back—"
"No, not at all. I was just heading out to the embassy. How've you been?" you remark and set your purse and tote down, remembering you almost forgot to grab your lunch out of the fridge.
"Well…not very good. I just got back from a trip visiting my father. I won't bore you with the details," she answers and remarks, "I take it Sasha let you know he's going to be down in Colombia?"
"Yes. Actually, when I got his voicemail, that's why I'd called you. I had a feeling something might be going on. I assume you tried to get him to join you on the visit?" you ask, starting to piece together some things already as you absently note that your fridge is bare now save for the ingredients needed for the lasagna you'd promised Ellis.
"Exactly. We had a big fight over it, and you know how he is. Anyway, I don't want to hold you up! Maybe you can make my brother give me a call when you're with him?" she suggests musingly, and you can hear the tension in his voice.
"Absolutely. Talk soon, Irina."
Once you've hung up, you collect your things and head out. Then entire drive to the embassy, you can't help wonder whether something new was percolating between Sasha and his father, and what could've made Irina visit the man. Of course, the ruminating over the Ivanov siblings' precarious relationship with their own patriarch prompted your mind to wander to your own tumultuous estrangement from your father. It'd been a long time since you'd spoken to him, and you had no plans on changing that any time soon, so before that small part of you could linger on whether you could ever reconcile with him, you shoved it all away and focused on getting to work.
While you entered your first meeting of the day, Javi was pacing his office, listening to Stoddard update him with the latest whilst he glanced through his itinerary for the day. When he paused in his pacing to toss the itinerary onto his desk before leaning to sit at the edge of it, Stoddard added in a whisper, "I was also informed there would be another tape reel coming for analysis by the afternoon, boss."
"Good," Javier remarks before crossing his arms and looking at the man sternly. "I've been wondering. How're the resources doing in the pilot program with IT+IS? I know you moved the meeting to next week, but I don't want to get caught unawares by the director. Anything I should be aware of?" he inquires with an earnest tone, quirking a questioning brow when Stoddard seems to hesitate. "Well?"
Clearing his throat, his deputy parcels out, "Actually, I did hear from some of the resources. They're questioning the merits of having to be part of the training, and I believe Kirkpatrick complained about it—"
"I want to know everyone who's pushing back on that training, and I expect them to get with the program, unless they really want to piss me off," he cuts in authoritatively and pushes off his desk to stalk around to sit in his chair. "I heard they got their funding, so that means they're not gonna remain a small intrepid little department the rest can blow off. The last thing I need is for the director to go to the ambassador over this," he mutters, tone no-nonsense.
"Understood, sir. I'll get the names for you, and give them a verbal warning," Stoddard dutifully retorts and excuses himself to do just that.
It wasn't cracking skulls, so Javi figured he'd gotten away with flexing his boss muscles without vexing you too much. When lunchtime rolls around, he heats up the meal you packed for him and catches some of the fellas in the break room covertly savoring the aroma before he returns with the container to his desk. Once he sits back down, he sees a list of four names scribbled in Stoddard's penmanship on a small notepad, next to his phone. Smirking, he eyes the offending resources as he eats, making a mental note to glare them down during the next staff meeting. Hurrying to finish his lunch so he can hustle to his next meeting, Javi begrudgingly pauses at his desk when the phone rings.
Once he's answered it and confirmed with the provisioner the added items he'd submitted for his apartment, he hangs up and goes to meet with Mil Group.
You're getting out a meeting an hour later with Ellis, trying to ignore the dull cramps in your lower back. To your chagrin, you'd gone to the restroom earlier in the workday and realized your period had arrived early. Ugh, should've known, you'd grumpily thought to yourself. It explained your heightened sense of smell, and the achy tenderness that radiates in your muscles. Thankfully, though, your time of the month didn't arrive in the middle of this morning's romp with Javi. The idle thought stirs you to remember the time you'd gotten your period during sex with a very cute guy at a party, and you can't suppress the cringe that tremors through you. Thank god that didn't happen with him, you think in relief.
As you walk down the corridors to get to the stairwell shortcut you both take to get to your department, Ellis uses the alone time to needle you with a whispered, "So…did you realize that you're gonna have your date at the premiere and Fran is going to see who it is?"
Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you hum, having not given it much thought prior. It disarms you. After all, the idea of anyone knowing about you and Javi just a year ago would've sent you into an anxious panic, but now? It only gives you a bit of pause. "Well, he said he'd make it, but we both know that could change on a dime, with everything that's going on," you answer musingly as you both lope down the steps. "I guess I didn't give it much thought because I'm not really concerned about it."
Ellis grunts, intrigued. "So, safe to say, you two are getting serious? I mean, enough for going public not being an issue?" he asks, curious.
You weigh that, and once you're close to your department's entrance, you gesture for him to follow you into your office for the answer. After he shuts the door, you park yourself onto the sofa while he spins a chair around and sits so he's straddling it and draping his arms over the back.
"He suggested we go to Crosby and disclose our relationship," you confide, crossing your legs and leaning sidelong into the armrest when he leans back and gapes at you. "Yeah…I don't know about that yet. Think it might be the wrong thing to do while he's in the middle of this Cali cartel stuff. But…I could see it being an option after – once that investigation is over and there isn't a huge politically detrimental worry dangling over him constantly," pensively, you murmur.
"Devil's Advocate?" Ellis suggests, and you nod for him to continue. "His job is never going to be that way, kid. As long as there's a cartel or some syndicate for him to go after, there's always going to be political jockeying and pressure, especially here," he remarks, adding, "Would you want to be in limbo indefinitely like that?"
You frown, deflating as you lean back into the couch. "I…I don't know. I guess it's stupid of me to have thought about it so simply—"
"No, I didn't mean it like that," Ellis interjects. "I only mean…why wait? If he wants to make it official, why not go for it?"
Pressing your lips together until they flatten out, you furrow your brow as you contemplate. "Because there's no going back after that," you blurt out, and the answer takes you aback.
Seeing how conflicted you are, Ellis gives you a commiserating look and pats your hand. "Nothing you have to decide right now, girlie. Just think about it some more."
Nodding, you can't help feel guilty. It lingers with you through your next meeting, and when you see it's almost 2pm, you find yourself shoving the indecision away to instead look forward to the right now of things.
Javier's been looking forward to this little break all day.
Really, since the moment you proposed it all flirtatiously this morning. Trusty mug in hand, he enters the workspace of your department and notices the intern cubicle is empty while most of the other desks aren't occupied. Humming to himself, he makes his way to the tucked away coffee corner, and as he nears, he picks up your jovial conversation with a familiar voice.
"—I promise, it's a really good novel. It's not a chick book."
"Hah, well fine, I'll pick it up, but I doubt we'll have time to discuss it like before."
Turning the corner, Javi sees you and Ed from Centra Spike amiably standing across from each other while sipping from your mugs and chatting away. The reserved man spots him first and looks tense – like he got caught doing something he's not supposed to.
"Let me guess: Nador and Benson told you about the coffee?" Javi can't help goad as he strides over.
You smile while Ed stammers, "Nope! Actually, they found out from me—"
"What's with the territoriality? It's a coffee machine," you chuckle and assure, "But yeah, Ed was the first to have a cup when I set up the department."
"Guess I'm just late to the party, then," Javi jokes, smirking when you pick up the carafe and wave him over so you can fill his mug.
"Shit, speaking of late," Ed winces when he looks at his watch and frowns at you. "I'll pick up that book, but if it's super mushy—"
"It's not, I swear," you scoff and wave him off as he gestures his thanks for the coffee and nods his goodbye to Javi.
"What book?" Javi can't help ask once you're both alone before sipping the delicious brew, soulful eyes crinkling affectionately at you.
"La casa de los espíritus," you tell him and lean back against the counter.
"Didn't they make a movie out of that?" he queries and smiles when you scoff in disdain.
"They made a horrible movie out of it. Absolutely atrocious," you insist and brush a strand of hair behind your ear, smirking at his amused little squint. "What? What's that look?" you ask him in Spanish.
Javi takes a long sip of his coffee before grunting and slipping his free hand casually in his slack's pocket. "Nothing. Just admiring how cute you are when you're appalled about something," he tells you in an aloof murmur. You scoff by clucking your tongue at him before sardonically shaking your head and sipping your coffee. Glancing around, Javi makes sure to murmur, "So, the provisioner called. They stocked my place today. Would you want to come over tonight?"
You submerge your smile by taking a sip from your glazed mug before nodding curtly. "Save for the lasagna ingredients, my fridge is pretty bare, thanks to this insatiable man who's been coming over…" you can't help razz, savoring how Javi narrows his eyes provocatively at you.
Thumbing his moustache to hide the beaming smile that wants to curl his lips from picturing you in your sexiest nighty later tonight, he clears his throat and adds, "I'll clean up, make dinner—"
"Have my slippers and robe ready too?" you tease, poking fun at the reversed gender roles and biting your bottom lip when he wrinkles his nose derisively at you. "I have to get stuff after work, so I'll be over probably after the last of rush hour," you tell him, smile serene as you see his shoulders broaden out with pride, dark eyes molten with want for you. It sends excitement into your tender core and overheats your already warm skin.
Javi is dying to kiss you. He wants to just plop his mug down on the counter and dip you in his arms so he can claim your mouth with his own – to feel you curl into him and kiss him back with gusto. But instead, he reluctantly checks his watch and his expression sobers.
"Well, thanks for the coffee. Don't think I could get through the day without it," he rumbles evenly before giving you a wink and adding as he starts loping out, "Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, director."
"You as well, sir," you smile and tingle with desire for him, watching your dashing lover's shoulders roll back at the 'sir' as he walks away.
It's ridiculous how much you love to rile him up, and while you'll never admit it, you enjoy it when he mischievously tries to get a rise out of you. You're smugly thinking about it while you walk back to your office, and only when you sit at your desk and feel the dull throb in your lower back do you grimace and realize an annoying concern.
Said concern bugs you more as you go home to pack, and when you run errands before heading over to Javier's apartment building. Then, a defiant part of you snickers, Well this'll be a good test of whether Javi truly is ready to share his space with a woman; challenge him to deal with the unsexy side of things.
By the time you're entering the code to the garage, you're feeling less insecure and more impish, keen on seeing what things will be like when you're on Javi's turf. Driving down the ramp and steering your hatchback to park next to his Ford Explorer, you take a calming breath before collecting your things and heading to the elevator.
Javi's rushing to clean his place while sans his blazer and tie – annoyed with the clutter. He's hustling to clear his ashtray, wipe down the counter, tidy up his files on the coffee table, and stock the bathroom rack with fresh, clean towels. So, when he dimly glances about his bedroom and remembers the different piles of clothes, he swears to himself. Just when he grabs the bundle of the most offensive 'must-do' laundry and rushes to the hidden stackable washer-dryer tucked into a closet with louvered doors off from the kitchen, there's a knock on his door. He hurriedly shoves the laundry into the washer and closes the louvered doors before huffing and striding over to the door.
"You didn't have to knock, you know. I gave you a key," he husks glibly when he opens the door and sees you standing there amusedly with your things. "Come in," Javi steps aside and lets you breeze by, trying to hide his intrigue at the duffle bag in one hand and the large shopping bag in the other as you saunter in.
"Well, I didn't want to just come in and catch you unawares," you jibe as you set your purse on the chair and the other things down in order to turn into his waiting embrace. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you kiss Javier a little unchastely, humming into his mouth when his tongue twirls along yours before you cheekily break the kiss to nuzzle his open collar. "Not to mention burst in when you're not used to someone having a key," is your wry purr.
"Uh-huh," he grunts amusedly and eyes the big shopping bag. "I was just tidying up a little. Haven't started dinner yet," he remarks and gestures with a tip of his head. "What's in the bag?"
Smiling, you flounce over and grab the bag while he chivalrously takes your duffle, bringing it into the bedroom while you follow. "Just some essentials I stopped at the store to pick up," you chime affably as he places the duffle on the bed and you plop the bag next to it before digging into it and producing an array of items. Javi catalogues the soap, shampoo and conditioner, hairbrush and comb, bottle of lotion, and several other necessary toiletries. He's looking at the makeup compacts and tubes when you suddenly pull out a box of tampons and innocently place it on the bed. "I know it's a lot of stuff, but I'll keep it from becoming a clutter," is your musing chime as you turn and primly wait for his reaction.
Javi doesn't bat an eye, and to your surprise, picks up the bulk of the toiletries, including the box of tampons, and takes them into the bathroom for you. "I already made some room on the vanity," he tells you in an easygoing baritone as he plucks the toothbrush in the ceramic holder next to his before aligning some items on the vanity and placing others in the medicine cabinets or shower shelf. And when he gets to the tampon box? He retrieves a ceramic cylindrical receptacle from the bottom sink cabinet and dutifully opens the box, fishes several tampons out, and organizes them neatly into the receptacle that he then places onto the back of the toilet. Setting the box in the cabinet, Javi turns and catches your stare, smirking as he remarks, "I cleared the top drawer out in the dresser, but still need to shuffle some things in the closet."
It's undeniable now: After his domestically unruffled and confident display? You decide that it's official – that Javier Peña has captured your heart forever.
He can tell whatever trepidation that was buzzing in you had been snuffed out, so he affectionately caresses your lower back as he saunters by and goes to toss himself sidelong onto the bed, bouncing his eyebrows at you before tilting his head to the duffle. "Need me to help you unpack?" he rumbles unabashedly.
Coquettishly pursing your lips, you strut over and unzip the bag. "I can manage, but I might need a few hangers," you offer, feeling relaxed as you unpack and start separating drawer-worthy items from the blouses and sets that need to be hung in the closet.
Javi watches contently as you place clothes into the drawer while you talk, and his eyes crinkle affectionately when you set the duffle and large shopping bag out of the way. He watches you shed your blazer, remove your sunburst earrings and set them atop the dresser before you let your hair down and shake it loose, then sit on the bed to unfasten your Mary Jane pumps. Just in your skirt and blouse now, you saunter across the bed in order to slink up to him and drape over his torso.
Cuddling him, you sigh. "Babe, it's freezing in here."
He chuckles. "I'll lower the thermostat," is his croon, rubbing his palms up and down your back while you nuzzle kisses into his neck. "Gonna have to get used to the nice air-conditioned lifestyle, bravita," he playfully rumbles, to which you grunt dryly and sit up to kiss his sideburn before giving him a smug stare. "Anything you need, just ask. I want you to be comfortable, querida," Javi murmurs before leaning up to kiss you sweetly on the lips.
"Be careful what you wish for, guapito," you tease and caress your fingertips along the contour of his temple before combing them into his hair daintily. "And, remember what I said: if you ever need your space, just let me know."
Javi fondles his hand down the curve of your waist before resting it on your derrière. "Why do I get the feeling you have very low expectations for my ability to live with someone?" he jokes drily and gives your ass a musing pat.
"Hah, maybe because you've never lived with anyone else?" you counter sarcastically and snicker when he gives you a faux peevish look.
"Well, I had roommates in college—"
"Alright, I'll amend: you've never lived with a woman before—"
"So you don't count all the times I've shacked up at your place as living with a woman?" he poses, smirking as you roll your eyes at his purposely contrarian goading.
"But that was my space, so it's different," you counter humorously, biting your lip sardonically when he rolls to have you lying across the bed while he frames your shoulders with his arms and noses your hairline. "Even the lowest maintenance woman is high maintenance to a man," you parry, "I just don't want to cramp your style—"
"Have you really had assholes act like fucking brats about you living with them?" Javi suddenly asks and leans up, unselfconscious in his query and gazing musingly at you.
You press your lips together and arch your brows – surprised he would ask something that could possibly instigate his surliness to come out. "Yes," you answer simply and rest your hands at his sides. Your mind flashes to the last relationship where you'd lived at his place, and how toxic it'd been. "Hence why I'm mindful—"
"Preciosa," he interrupts and you realize your gaze had gone unfocused – faraway, so you blink and stare up into his warm, coffee-brewed pools. "I might be a complete fuckup sometimes, but this is not something you need to worry about. I want you here. You belong here, with me," he tells you in the most confident, unfettered way. "I promise, there's nothing you could do to 'cramp my style' or make me feel otherwise."
Your heart pulses with a delightfully fuzzy feeling and your happiness skitters into your womb, stirring butterflies of joy to flutter there. Cupping Javi's cheek, your eyes soften affectionately. "You're not a fuckup," you huff airily and pull him close so you can kiss him sultrily on the lips. You curl into him when he deepens the kiss, inundated by his delectable scent and the heat of his skin as you wrap your hands behind his neck.
Javi can feel you unspool, all concerns and anxieties shed, leaving you like a rich bolt of silk that he wants to drape himself in. He encircles you in his strong arms and holds you to him as you just kiss and snuggle on his bed. The urge to claim you with his talented fingers and his hungry mouth has to be quelled, especially when you whimper into his neck when he grinds his clothed hard-on against your womb. He can feel how tender you are – how warm your skin is, how delicate and sensitive you are in your fidgeting reactions. It's surprising to him, but Javier realizes you were right this morning.
"Chemistry…"
He pulls back to nuzzle gentle kisses into your neck, hands rubbing tenderly into your back while he relishes your heady, spiced scent.
"So…do you like stir fry?"
You giggle and lightly shove him back. "Well, sir…I actually love stir fry," you purr and exclaim a silly sound that turns into peels of laughter after Javi retaliates by tickling you. Managing to squirm away and flounce out of his reach by scampering to the foot of the bed, you give him a dazzling smile and wiggle your foot at him. "Tengo hambre, mi patrón," is your goading singsong. He scoffs a surly rumble and covertly adjusts himself in his trousers before getting up from the bed.
"Que atrevida traviesa eres," he chuckles and smirks when you hold your hands out in unspoken petition for him to pull you up, so, he does, and he keeps hold of one hand while he leads the way to the kitchen. When Javi parks you onto a stool in front of the kitchen counter, he remarks, "I'm not much of a cook, but I learned to make stir fry from my college roommate sophomore year. It was fairly easy and cheap. We'd get decent cuts of steak and frozen vegetables," he pauses from the open fridge he'd just stopped leaning into to grab the needed ingredients when he frowns and turns. "Shit, I forgot to mention, it's just gonna be the stir fry, since I can't make rice."
You playfully gasp. "What? You don't know how to make rice?" you feign a scandalized faint, and he just shakes his head at you. "Babe, how in the world do you not know how to make rice?!"
He shrugs. "We'd use a rice cooker," Javi retorts. "Whenever I've tried to make rice in a pot, it comes out all lumpy—"
"Amogolla'o," you correct and give him a lopsided smile, as you get off the stool and pad barefoot into his kitchen to start looking in the cupboards for a rice pot. "I'll teach you. You just need to learn the trick," you chime as you retrieve the caldero and set it on the stove.
Javi admires you, soulful chocolate eyes crinkling when you turn and bat your lashes at him. "All right, show me," he rumbles charmingly and reaches into the cabinet that has the bag of rice. "I'll start on the stir fry once the rice is going."
Smirking, you go to work showing him the right way to measure out the rice, how to rinse the long grains and draining the cloudy water from the bowl without losing a single grain. What has him humming in surprise is seeing how you dribble some cooking oil into the pot once it's on the burner, coating the surface generously before dumping the rice in. Then, you show him your trick for knowing whether there's too much water in the pot.
"—You rest the spoon over the rice, and if there's a little water sitting in the spoon and it doesn't sink all the way? Then that's enough water, and the rice shouldn't come out lumpy," you're finishing your affable instruction when you glance up at him and catch him staring fondly at you. Heat fans up to radiate in the apples of your cheeks as you elbow him and derisively scoff, "Well? Did you get any of that, malcriado?"
He grunts and gives you a rugged smile. "Yep. All of it, mi directora," he teases and leans his hip into the counter next to the stove. "Although, I might bug you to show me again sometime," he taunts and shoots you a wily smirk when you put your hands on your hips and give him a sharp, faux-admonishing look. "Ok, my turn," he declares as he gestures for you to go into the fridge for him while he retrieves the large pan and some ingredients from the spice cabinet. "Grab the flank steak, the peppers and the rest of the veggies that are in that drawer for me?" is his instruction.
You merrily do so, and when you're fishing everything out of the fridge, you can't help notice the assortment of fresh fruits – all of which are your favorite – and some other items you suspiciously wonder if he'd added to the provision list just for you. It makes you smile serenely and want to shower him with yearning kisses. Instead, though, you dutifully put all the ingredients on the counter and snicker when he shoos you to go back and sit on the stool in order to watch him cook.
Javi makes short work of chopping vegetables before setting them to sizzle in the oiled pan, and then trims the steak into thin strips he quickly seasons before tossing into the pan. You watch him, riveted and frankly very proud. You don't know why domestic moments starring Javi turns you into melted, lustful putty for him, but you can't much care as your stomach flips and desire coils in your chest. Soon enough, Javi stirs the rice and listens to your instructions on how to best do so before both dishes are ready and he easily plates. Whipping up some drinks for you both, you carry both for him while he places the dinner servings at the small dining table next to the kitchen.
The first bite is delightful, making you hum and affectionately skim your foot along his ankle underneath the table. "Delicious," you tell him and enjoy seeing his dark brewed eyes gleam with pride. "This is going to be such a great lunch tomorrow."
He smiles. "I'm glad you like it," Javier retorts in a velvety tone. "So, I was curious. Most of your department was empty when I went down for coffee. Part of the training program?"
"Oh, Ellis had a tutorial for most of 'em today regarding the new system we've got coming from New York next week. I'll manage the tutorial for the rest of the staff tomorrow," you explain and daintily clean your plate of the last few pieces of broccoli, steak and rice. "That reminds me. Nador mentioned some big meeting happening on Friday? He said DEA is going to get chastised," you pipe up and watch Javier roll his eyes as he sits back and drinks from his glass of whiskey. "Are they really going to give you shit about the raid?"
With an acerbic sigh, Javi sets the glass down on the table and cocks his head to the side. "Probably. But, I'm used to it," he grumbles and shrugs. "Crosby was salty about it, but really, anyone siding with that farce of a surrender deal is DOA with the public, so I doubt they'll have much to gripe about." You nod and sip your drink, looking pensive, so he decides to change the subject. "So, you mentioned something about lasagna earlier?" is his instigating purr that has your eyes narrowing wryly.
"Yep, for Ellis," you emphasize and stand to collect his empty dish along with your own. "He said he's been craving it for a while, so as a thank you for putting up with me this past weekend, I said I'd make him one. Most likely Saturday," you remark and snicker when Javi follows you to the kitchen to hip check you from washing dishes so he can take that spot in front of the sink. "Javi, let me clean—"
"Nope. You can stow the leftovers. I like how you pack the lunches," he tells you glibly, so you relent and do so, amused. "…So only Ellis gets to have lasagna?"
You laugh, "I'll make one for you too, you caripela'o."
Javi snorts, glancing over at you while he washes to watch you pack everything away in lunch containers. "You know, all those Puerto Rican-isms are just nonsense to me," he can't help goad. "I don't get dropping a letter and drawling into the last vowel."
You gasp, as if appalled, and shake your head at him. "For shame. You know the words, though," you remark, squinting when he nods. "So? They're not nonsense—"
"But they're not the proper word," he counters, needling you with a smug quirk of his brow.
"Ah, you sinvergüenza," you scoff and put all the containers away in the fridge in order to advance on him and give him an irreverent squeeze around his waist. "You say anything like that in Puerto Rico, and they'll run you off the island," you playfully growl and rest your forehead against his back.
He chuckles heartily at that and sets the last item aside to dry on the dish rack before cheekily leaning back into you. The surprised squeal you let out has him laughing as he maneuvers you around so he can recline against the counter and encircle your waist. You grunt and nuzzle your face into his chest, sighing when he rubs the back of your neck and kisses the top of your head. "Wanna curl up on the couch for a bit?" he suggests, and you give a nod before leaning back and kissing his jaw.
After adjusting the thermostat for you, he leads you to the sofa, where you both snuggle up and watch the nightly news via the TV in the entertainment system tucked against the far wall. The couch is plush and large enough to easily accommodate Javi to stretch out lengthwise with you folded back into him, allowing his furnace-like body heat to ward the chill of the room away. His hand rests over your hip, idly caressing back and forth while your arms rest folded around the throw pillow, perching your head up whilst Javi reclines his on the padded armrest. During the commercials, he nuzzles teasing kisses behind your ear and along your neck, which stokes arousal to simmer in your belly and tingle lower.
During a particularly long break, you nimbly slip your hand around and behind yourself to rub the stiff bulge you feel pressing up against the curve of your ass. The ridge of his hard-on twitches against your palm while Javi groans and clutches your waist. You turn your countenance to stare seductively at him, and just as you pivot your hips to maneuver so you can press up against him and work the belt looped around his trousers open while his hand yanks your blouse loose from your skirt so he can slip a warm palm up to cup your breast, a bulletin for the next story flashes across the screen.
"—Sources at the National Police believe cartel violence is imminent after the daring capture and arrest of Gilberto Rodriguez Orejuela, but when pressed for details, they would only tell this reporter that any possible turmoil would be the fault of the U.S. and it's agencies who've seen fit to meddle in Colombian affairs – specifically la DEA—" the reporter is starting to expound, and the way Javi's gaze flints up and gets faraway while he listens to the recriminating charges has you authoritatively taking the remote from the coffee table and shutting the TV off.
Snapping his gaze back to you, he sees your bright, warm gaze soften as you sit up enough to kiss him on the lips before musing, "I'm gonna take a head-start on getting ready for bed. Come join me in the shower in a few minutes?"
Javier feels something broaden in his chest, effervescently fluttering up into his throat where he can only manage a grunt, nodding before you smile and kiss his forehead once you've sat up on the sofa. He watches you strut down the hall towards the bedroom, and he can't help lie back flat on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. That pit that had begun to open in his stomach was seared shut from your disarming grace, but he couldn't deny why it was there to begin with. He knew the shitstorm was coming his way, and there was little he could do to stop it. I have to find fucking Jurado and get him to flip, or else things are going to get so much worse…
As the warm water cascades down your back, you try not to fret, keen on keeping a stiff upper lip for him – in being his rock. Hair up in a messy bun now so you don't get it wet from the shower, you focus on rinsing between your thighs and making sure you're not making a literal bloody mess. Thankfully, the birth control pills have helped lessen the flow of your cycle, but it would still be a mortifying prospect to be spotting in front of Javi while you're at your most vulnerable.
The anxious worry is plaguing you when you hear him come into the bathroom before he enters the shower with you. Despite the uneasiness you feel, you smile when he encircles you from behind and plants a kiss on your shoulder.
"Hm, while I like your soap, I kind of developed a thing for smelling my soap on you," he murmurs against your temple once he reaches for said bar and starts lathering it up. "Guess it goes to that chemistry thing," he chuckles when you set your soap aside and take his from his grip before turning to gaze alluringly up at him through your lashes as you start massaging your lathered hands over his chest.
"Or to you being a possessive macho type," you tease, soaping up his sides and working your way down. He scoffs at the notion, and you raise a smug brow. "You don't think it has something to do with the thought of others smelling your scent on me?" is your charismatic query as your hands skim down his hips, venturing lower.
He groans when your soapy digits take his hard length in hand and concentrates on keeping his own clenched at his sides. "M-Maybe," he relents on a stuttered breath, so you smile victoriously and hold up the bar of soap to him while your other hand keeps lusciously stroking him. Snatching it and trying to remember not to fist it, he pants and watches your hand rub his cock, gaze greedily roving over your soaked skin, the way your perky tits jiggle from your ministrations, how good your mound looks dripping the water that's cascaded down from your shoulders. He takes your wrist and growls, "Naughty girl. You got all nice and clean just to get me to do dirty things to you."
Your tender core pulses at that and your cunt wrings around nothing while you hiccup prettily, "N-Not true," pausing when he pulls you close and licks the drop of water that had been clinging to your earlobe. His cock skims the inseam of your thigh, and you let out a shaky breath. "I'll be good, I promise," you murmur airily, feeling wound up and aroused, but reluctant on teasing him further since sex isn't an option. "Let me wash your back?" is your offer, eyes softening when you finally notice how Javi's looking at you.
He nods and maneuvers around so he's facing the showerhead while you take the soap and start massaging it along his back. As you do so, Javi veers back to the previous topic, murmuring puckishly, "I just like smelling me on you. I don't care whether others know or not."
You impishly loop your arms around his torso so you can lean into his slick and soapy back. "So you wouldn't get a sense of satisfaction if Ellis called me out for smelling like Irish Spring?" is your taunting lilt, smiling when Javier chuckles as if intrigued by the idea.
"Only one way to find out," he muses and takes the soap from you before turning and going quickly to town soaping himself up before lathering up his hands. Javier's then turning you so he can lather up your back, working his touch from your nape down to the backs of your thighs before gliding to your front and lathering up.
You bite your lip and clench your thighs, worried that your slick could seep crimson, or worse. "Mmm, we should test that theory out another time," you drawl on a tremulous tone when Javi sets the soap in the dish so he can trail his hands up to cup your breasts while he rubs up against you from behind.
"I know you're tender, baby. Just wanna make you feel good," he purrs against the shell of your ear when he grinds his cock to skim along the slick and warm valley between your thighs. "We can get off just like this. Promise," his voice is melted gravel as he husks and kisses the spot under your ear when you let out a needy whimper and rock against him, nestling his erection tightly against your crotch. "Yeah, just like that. Warm my cock, hermosa," he coos as one hand moves from your breast to glide down your taut torso to press his fingertips over your swollen clit.
You jolt in his embrace and moan, hands gripping his wet side and the back of his neck as you arch and rut back on his cock while he quickly works you into a carnal tizzy with his touch. The way you're rubbing your ass against his groin and tightening the clench of your thighs around his straining hard-on has his desire coiling up in his gut. But it's when you keen a desperate, "Oh please, Javi!" after he plucks and pinches your nipple in time with his fingers grinding ruinously over your clit that propels him to being on the very edge of bliss right there with you. So when you cry out in pleasure against his jaw and clench your thighs shut, Javi tenses and presses his fingers flush against your pulsing bundle – shoving you both simultaneous off the cliff into blissful climaxes.
His cock gets drenched with your slickened orgasm while your thighs get coated in his thick pearly cum. It feels so good that you forget about your trepidation of before and instead cling to him, relishing how he wraps you up in his arms and buries his sated grunt into your nape.
When you both recover from the high of climaxing together, Javi cleans you off, and mercifully you don't see any blood swirling the drain. He can tell your unease is coming back, so he kisses your cheek and murmurs, "You know that wouldn't bother me, right?"
You sigh tersely and rest your forehead to his. "I mean – it's more about me being embarrassed. It's nothing you've made me feel, querido," you assure.
He grunts, understanding, and gives you a peck on the lips before shifting to exit the shower. "I get it. Take your time, cariño," is his warm grouse as he grabs his towel and dries off.
You beam, feeling alight and unburdened by any insecurity, smiling when he wraps the towel around his trim waist and winks at you before heading out to the bedroom.
Javier has ulterior motives, though. He is rushing to chuck the other piles of laundry out of obvious view into the corner of the room adjacent the wall with the windows, grumbling at himself as he picks up the suits he'd piled onto the ottoman and shoves them into the corner as well. Appeased, he then makes room in his closet to provide an expanse of clothes rack space that can be all yours. He's itching for a cigarette, but pops a mint in his mouth instead, chewing it vigorously as he sheds his towel in favor for a pair of blue pajama trousers he loosely ties off. The sound of the shower cutting off motivates him to turn down the bed, fluff the pillows and adjust the thermostat in the bedroom so it isn't so cold. Sitting on the bed, he sets the alarm clock for the morning while he fantasizes about you strutting in any minute in that nighty he loves – the one with the slit up the thigh.
After a few minutes pass, he hears you shuffling into the bedroom. He turns and balks, comical surprise crinkling his handsome features.
Instead of the nighty, you're wrapped up in a big fluffy cream-colored robe with matching house slippers – hair still up in a messy bun and features dewy and glowing from the skincare you'd slathered over your countenance and neck – and bottle of lotion in your hand.
Amused, he laconically grunts and just sits back to take you in. You shuffle closer and give him an angelic pout, adoring gaze admiring his broad, nude torso, warm olive tan skin glowing under the lamplight, begging to be worshipped like the sun god he is. "What?"
"Nothing," he says, but his full lips are struggling to keep from grinning at you derisively. "You wearing anything under that robe?" is his flirty purr.
"You'll find out, fresco," you chuckle and admire the subtle difference in the room, noticing the closet is open. "Oh, while I'm hanging stuff up, I can peruse your wardrobe for something to wear on Monday night for the premiere," you chime vivaciously as you set the lotion down on the dresser to shuffle over to do just that.
"I really doubt I have anything nice enough," he tells you as he leans sidelong and admires you skimming your nimble fingers from hung up item to item. "Just grab any free hangers and start putting your stuff up."
You smile and go to do just that, when something catches your eye and you snort. "Oh my god," you scathe as you reach in and pull out the white, short-sleeved button shirt with garish black design that look like an epileptic pattern maker stamped haphazardly all over during an attack. Holding up the offending print shirt, you inquire tauntingly, "What on earth is this?"
Javier scrunches his features in faux outrage. "That is a very stylish shirt, I'll have you know," he parries and props himself up on his elbow. "I got raving compliments every time I wore it—"
"From raving lunatics, you mean?" you banter, grinning at his grimacing expression of haughtiness while quipping, "I know you have the same shirt in every color and print known to man, but this? I just cannot abide it, galán."
"Fine. I'll only wear it whenever I want to annoy the hell out of you," he retorts glibly and bounds off the bed to pilfer the shirt from your grip, but you agilely yank it behind yourself and bite your lip precociously when he clucks his tongue and drawls, "Seriously? You know I can toss you over my shoulder and take it from you—"
"Just answer me one thing: You wore this around other people and they didn't laugh or just shake their heads in horror—eeek!" Your taunting jibe becomes a squeal of mirth as Javi picks you up effortlessly, plucks the shirt from your hand, and tosses you onto the bed.
"Last time I wore it was with Steve and Carrillo, and they weren't the snappiest dressers either, atrevida," he jokes as he stows the offending garment to the back of the closet and starts dutifully hanging up your suit sets and delicate blouses while you giggle and kick off your fuzzy slippers.
He's doing a great job smoothening out the pieces before setting them on the hangers, so you're content to watch him tend to your things before he moves on to the few pairs of shoes you'd brought, including your pumps. Once they're aligned on the bottom shelf of the closet, you sit up on your knees and beckon him over. "You're a saint for putting up with me, you know that?" you murmur genuinely after you loop your arms around his bare shoulders and brush your lips tenderly against his.
"Quit being silly, corazón," he grouses and caresses your curves. "We're both saints for putting up with each other," he quips wryly, earning a melodious laugh and affectionate squeeze from you.
"Touché," you tut sultrily and kiss him before prowling off the bed to retrieve the bottle of lotion, setting it on the side of the bed you're designating yours before disrobing and draping it onto the ottoman. Preening, you pose in your super old and worn Grateful Dead tour shirt – skeleton with red rose flower crown looking crackly from years of wear – letting it hang askew to show a tease of shoulder as you pose gloatingly for him. Sardonically, you chirp, "To your liking, mi amor?"
Climbing into bed and giving you a smug, appraising once over, Javi deadpans, "And you were giving me shit over a shirt?"
"Yes. Difference is, I only wear this to sleep. You wore that out in civilized society," you razz right back as you slink into bed, depositing some lotion into your hands once you've gotten comfy, and slathering your legs and arms with the luscious cream. Javi gives a cocky grunt at that and eyes you derisively, so you primly smile and stretch out a leg as you lotion it up.
"How high were you while at that concert?" he jokes as he leans sideways on his propped arm, gazing cheekily at you.
"Oh, I probably was the only sober person at that festival," you chuckle as you shuffle close and gesture for him to sit up so you can lotion his shoulders and back for him. When he grunts humorously and acquiesces, you add, "The idea of being out of control was never appealing, hence skipping drugs and just partaking in the occasional drink. You don't even wanna know the kind of crazy shit that happens when a chick is coked up or strung out at a show."
He frowns, not liking the sound of that. "Anything ever happen?" he asks tentatively, not wanting to trigger you in case the worst he's thinking is possible.
"No. At least nothing I saw. I heard stories, though," you retort, hands working over a knot in his lower back. Javi groans in relief, but keeps his attention perked on you continuing musingly, "Being the one to decline the party favors or duck out when it was getting too rowdy saved me any trouble. And concerts were mostly benign. It was backstage that things could get sketchy," you tell him, concentrating on massaging a kink below his shoulder blades and enjoying the little grunts and relaxed hums your touch ease out of him. "I had to dodge many a grabby dude, but luckily, nothing dangerous happened to me," is your remark, and when he grunts neutrally while you knead his shoulders before working down to his deltoids, you find yourself volunteering, "Really the only places I felt unsafe were Studio54 and in the club scene back home in PR."
His alarms go up at that. "…Why?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder at you.
Pensively, you nip at your bottom lip and flick your gaze to his back, focusing there instead of the incandescently worried look in his dark eyes. "Well, Studio54 was fun for a while, until it started getting…really grimy and seedy in the 80s. I made it a point to never go into a room or the restroom by myself," you remark guardedly, but then relent, "Plus, when they started letting in little kids? I just got a bad vibe, and stopped going."
"Kids?!" Javi barks, aghast as he turns and gapes at you.
You nod. "Like, famous kids, but still – it didn't feel right," pausing, you add musingly, "Mostly I went to dance and people-watch anyway. But watching coked out celebs and strung out wannabes flounce and gyrate around got kind of depressing."
Javier grunts, shaking his head sulkily as he grumbles, "You were basically a kid still yourself…"
Ruefully sighing, you nuzzle a kiss into the back of his hair and massage your palms out to his sides. "I've established how wild I was, right?" you quip laconically, and he exhales and reaches an arm around to hold you close to him as you shuffle to hug him, hands resting at his midriff. "It wasn't all bad. I got to meet some cool people there. I'll spare you the reminiscence of my time in the club scene back home…"
He internally chastises himself. After all, it's so rare and fleeting when you open up like this.
"Did I ever tell you how I did drugs during my DEA training?"
Blinking, you sit up and comically angle to peer over his shoulder, bemused. "No, you most certainly never have!" you balk, and Javi chuckles and maneuvers you from being behind him to reclining against him.
"Well, it was part of the training, to be more precise," he amends, so you wiggle to lounge sidelong into him so you can stare in riveted intrigue at him as he continues, "Mind you, getting into the DEA requires a completely clean jacket. No arrests or any history of drugs. Nine weeks into the program, they put us in a lab where they paraded us in front of real confiscated narcotics," when you hum in wonder, he snickers, "I had to enlist to be a special agent to get my first narcotic high."
"My taxes, at work," you jibe, and he irreverently squeezes your waist. "So it's only so you can tell real from fake, right?"
"Exactly. Enough to know by weight, scent, and taste if it's real product. Narco syndicates like Cali? They've started chemically transforming their coke into other stuff to make it easier to smuggle, and then when it gets to the distribution hub, it gets turned back into coke," he explains, and you are astonished, so he adds, "But then, once it hits the lower-level dealers, they cut it with other shit…turn it into crack rock, which is what ends up accounting for the bulk of overdoses…"
You frown, shifting to sit up so you can straddle his lap and pull him into a protective hug. He relaxes and loops his arms around your waist, holding you close.
"…After graduation, I went back home. While I was there, I…I met someone, and sort of fell into his scene for a while. Out every night at clubs, partying," you're murmuring, head resting on his shoulder as you confide the darker shades of your past. "Looking back on it now, it's the stupidest, most reckless time of my life, and I can't believe that'd been me…that I'd been so foolish, but I was so angry…"
Javi holds you and listens, heart starting to race. "Why were you angry?" he whispers.
Begrudgingly, you wilt into him. "I felt lost. After my mother died…after my father put me in all those different schools," you pause, amending, "After he sent me away, well, I filled the void with partying, being wild…education at those places was a joke. I couldn't believe rich people paid so much for their spoiled kids to be taught such easy drivel. I always kept my grades up enough not to have to deal with my father, but by graduation, I didn't know what I wanted to do."
Engrossed, Javi stays silent, only occasionally rubbing his hand up your back or nuzzling your shoulder to let you know he was there – still there listening.
"…Luckily, I got busted selling papers to some dumbass freshmen at NYU, and instead of turning me in, the professor tracked me down and proposed that I enroll into her summer program. She even let me come into the campus computer lab so I could work on a coding project for her," you're telling him, fond smile softening your features as you snicker into his shoulder. "And that, by the way, came up when I told her I used to hack into the prep school's network and change the progress report grades for some of my classmates."
Astounded, he laughs, inquiring amusedly, "How the hell did you get into that!? I could barely pay attention in my college computer course!"
"Oh, that was easy. I always liked numbers and patterns, and computer code is not so different. I was tinkering with a code when I stumbled into a backdoor the school used in case they got locked out of the main system. That was a fun spring," you chuckle and sit up to kiss his cheek. "And yes, I charged the kids for hacking in to switch their grades."
"So you like patterns, but not the pattern on my shirt," he drawls, narrowing his eyes tauntingly.
"Javier, that pattern is atrocious," you snap daringly as you grab both sides of his jaw and tip his face down to your pouting sneer. "It looks like the shirt fell into a madman's printing press—"
"Alright, point taken," he chuckles and palms his hands over your cotton-undies-clad derrière. "So…it sounds like you found your passion, but then went home after college and…lost it?" he redirects tentatively to your previous reminiscence.
"Well, yeah, because I graduated and realized I didn't know what I wanted to do with my passion. I had nowhere to go, no prospects, so I went back home and spent that summer at odds with my father over nearly everything. Then next thing I know, I meet…well, technically, I kind of knew him already, but we got involved after I ran into him on a night out with some girl friends I knew from middle school," you pause and shy your gaze away, feeling uneasy about telling him.
"I'm not going to be mad, cariño. But, if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to…" Javi murmurs and caresses your cheek.
Sighing, you lean into his touch and your expression softens. You feel safe. Leaning heavily into Javi, you rest your forehead against his jaw and let out a tense exhale.
"It was tumultuous. I never knew…I always felt on guard, like anything and everything could go wrong, but by the time I felt things were messed up and I didn't want to put up with it, I'd already moved in with him, to spite my father. This was not so far after that disastrous proposal from his hand-picked suitor for me, and he just…he just didn't want to let me live down how much of a disappointment I was to him," you verbalize your tremulous, faraway stream of consciousness, feeling the sting of welling tears that you stubbornly will away. Once you've swallowed the lump that was knotting in your throat, you continue evenly, "Then, when I finally decided to leave – had already packed my things and had a friend sneak over to get my bags where I'd hidden them while I was out with him at a bar, he refused to let me leave. I tried to storm out, and he grabbed me and took me through the back. We fought…and he forced me to get in his car."
You can feel Javier's fury coiling in him, how his muscles flex and his breathing gets deep and measured.
"He started driving out to this crash pad he had, insisting I was just trying to instigate him, but I told him that my friend had already gotten my things and that if she didn't hear from me by midnight, she was going to call the police, and…he just opened the glove compartment," you pause and collect your bravery, knowing what you say next is liable to upset Javier. "He had a Beretta pistol sitting there. I…I actually laughed," you tell him, as if completely divorced from the situation. "He's speeding down the highway, looking the most livid I'd ever seen him, and I laughed at him trying to intimidate me with a fucking Beretta."
Javier is so wound up and crackling with impotent rancor that you finally lean back and stare openly into his smoldering, chiseled expression.
"The laugh? It'd incensed him so much that he pulled over down a grassy strip and backhanded me in the mouth," you pause at the dark fury that flares in Javi's eyes, jaw ticking and nostrils flaring. Feeling like you're telling him a story about someone else, you furrow your brow and cup his cheek. "It was the first time he'd ever hit me like that, and…I grabbed the gun, took the safety off, and shot into the center console."
His fury flicks into gaping shock. "Jesus Christ," he exclaims, and you bashfully look down to his chest. You think he's horrified by you, but in reality? Javier is nothing but completely enthralled by you. Heart wringing in his chest, he grouses, "How you could have the presence of mind to do all that…I'm amazed, querida."
Gaze flicking up to his, you feel laid bare, like only his soulful brown eyes and his strong embrace can protect you. "So, I guess then the rest won't upset you," you blurt, smile meek as you idly brush his hair and focus your unguarded gaze into his. Javi nods, strong and comforting, so you take a cleansing inhale, and continue. "He screamed, and I told him to get out of the car – kept the gun pointed at him while I called my father on the car phone, and asked him to please have someone come pick me up at the road marker I'd last seen go by. Then, I got out of the car, shot out the tires on my side, and told him not to follow me or I'd shoot him in the kneecaps," you gulp the anxious tremor that skittered up and almost derailed your voice. "The local chief of police came and got me, took my statement, snapped photos of my split bottom lip, and had a tow truck and a deputy get him and the car. I handed over the pistol and he took me home to my father's."
Javi feels emotionally strung out – like his guts had gone on a rollercoaster ride. Unbidden, his mind replays what you'd said. "It was the first time he'd ever hit me like that…"
His temples buzz with his tumult of emotions and his hands shakily clutch you to him as he rumbles tersely, "Tell me he's rotting in a fucking prison down there."
You hesitate before frowning. "…I can't. I don't know where he ended up, but because of the possible scandal, my father and his parents agreed not to pursue it. I didn't press charges, because he could've had charges filed against me for what I did—"
"You gotta be fucking kidding me! In what court would that shit have flown?!" he growls, trying to keep his wrath in check.
You sigh and nudge your temple against cheek. "In Puerto Rico? That would've easily flown with the prosecutors and judges," you calmly assure and hug him. "His father was a very connected business man. It was the best compromise – all things considering, and soon after, I went back to New York and my mentor in NYU got me a great internship. That led into an entry-level position at the State Department – of which I'm sure my father leaned on some people to ferry me through the HR review, and after a couple of years there, an assignment opened up at the Colombian embassy, and I was the only volunteer," you regale and kiss a doting path to his lips. "The gun in my nightstand? Gift from dear ol' dad, before he told me I better not taint his name here," you tersely mutter and find yourself needing to lean back and shimmy away self-consciously. "Needless to say, I was livid that he would only give a damn about that, after everything, and I cursed him out and told him I never planned to speak to him again."
The conversation suddenly drains you, and you find yourself scoffing and wringing a hand across your features. He can sense your angst, so he literally scoops you up into his arms and tucks you under the covers with him while he relentlessly kisses you until you unfurl and relax in his embrace. "You didn't deserve any of that—" he begins to mollify.
"Hah…I don't know about that," you scoff and nuzzle his throat. "I'm more focused on panicking that telling you all of that scared the shit out of you," you blurt out honestly, feeling heat rise to the back of your neck. "As if I haven't done enough to scare you off already…"
Javi surprises you by sitting up and gazing down at you like you're utterly insane. "Are you serious? If anything, knowing all that just makes it absolutely official: I am so fucking in love with you," is his gruff, husky purr that curls velvety arousal across you, and when he confidently caresses your cheek and declares, "You're my fierce, badass bravita," before brushing his lips covetously over yours? You feel undone and aflutter.
You kiss him with passionate thrill, love beaming in your chest and singing in your veins. There was so much you'd omitted – skipped over for the sake of giving him the most detached version of events, but you don't fixate on that. Instead, you revel in being engulfed in this pure feeling, curled into Javier and feeling the safest you've ever been. The reverent kisses you brush over his features before you card your fingers into his hair and rub soothing circles into his scalp have him leaning heavily into you, relishing your sweetness.
"I wish I could've just been with you…just safe with you," you docilely mumble, closing your eyes and pushing all melancholy away – not wanting ghosts and regrets from your past to hang over you now.
Javier's brow furrows, full lips fighting the frown your timid utterance pulls over his features. "You are now, querida. I'll always protect you," he murmurs and kisses your temple. He wants to add, 'No one will ever hurt you like that again. I love you and will keep you safe, and I'll go after anyone who ever threatens your safety or happiness,' but he feels you melt and stifle a relieved sob of a sigh. So instead, he just holds you and nuzzles you with loving, gentle kisses until he feels you slowly doze off.
He eases out of bed to turn the lights off and retrieve a glass of water he sets on the nightstand for you, just in case. Once he's back under the covers with you, he wraps his arms around you and gets lulled into his own slumber by the soft breaths you puff against his collarbone and the soothing scent of your hair.
The next morning, Javier mercifully doesn't mention the moment of vulnerability. He kisses your shoulder after you sit up and greedily chug the water on the nightstand, and while you get ready for work, he affectionately brushes his touch over you. Serenely, you smile and squeeze him back, but you can't help internally harp on whether you should've revealed such a sordid story. After all, only a few people knew of it, and even less heard the specifics. You hoped and fretted that it wasn't going to be something that bothered him over time, when he was alone with his thoughts to pick it apart. Would he think less of you for having stayed? Could it cause him to question whether to be with you?
Would he reconsider his plan – change his mind about wanting to build a life together with you?
Covertly, Javi is watching you pensively brush your hair in the mirror hanging over his dresser while he shrugs on his blazer. You both had gone through the normal morning routine so far. Woken up spooning while the alarm clock blared. Taken a shower together. Your smile had been serene and dreamy the whole time, giggling when he'd kissed you and herded you playfully out of bed and into the bathroom, gaze crinkling affectionately when he'd pulled your oversized shirt off. Hell, you'd even snorted a bossy sound and shoved him out of the bathroom so you could quickly use it and jump in the shower to ensure you were fresh when he sauntered in. You'd been vivacious and sultry as you touched him and got him off before he retaliated expertly with his talented fingers. So, it wasn't until you'd finished brushing your teeth and ducked your head when he hitched over the vanity to concentrate on shaving that his stare wandered over and noticed.
It's plainly hidden in your gorgeous strength, countenance smooth as marble. Doubt.
He sees unrest in your ruminating gaze. A tension not unlike the lonesome worry he'd seen that time in the jeep, before he'd been rotated out of Colombia. While you're fastening the earrings from yesterday into your earlobes, Javier decides you must be winding yourself up reproachfully about last night. He's about to break the tension when his own id is circumvented by his superego.
Every single time you were a callous, possessive, envious asshole? Were you any better than the motherfucker who hurt her?
The pang of self-loathing splinters like brittle bone into his most fledging parts – the ones he'd been working on cultivating to be worthy of earning you back. Javier thinks of how he's behaved in the past, especially in regards to his jealous streak, and it roils him to know he'd subjected you to it after the infuriating and terrifying things you'd told him last night.
You're just finishing with your blush and about to apply your lipstick when you notice Javi go still in the reflection, so you turn and begin to query, "Something wrong—?"
He looks at you then, and you're taken aback by the fervor of something tumultuous and ardent in his molten gaze as he strides over and pulls you into his arms before bringing you to sit across his lap when he plunks himself down at the corner of the bed. Cupping your cheek and staring resolutely into your startled expression, Javi murmurs, "Did I ever scare you?"
Shocked, your semblance loses any marble stoicism, eyes blazing and plush lips slackening in confusion. "What? No, of course not," you retort, brows furrowing as you exclaim questioningly, "Why would you ever think that, Javier?"
His expression shutters in, embarrassed. "I-I just…whenever I got – the times I got jealous, or when we'd argue…I wasn't sure if how I behaved had scared you," he fumbles sullenly, tone dipping low as he mutters, "Whenever I lost my temper—"
He's so tangled up that he doesn't realize your expression is blossoming from confusion to absolute adoration. It quickly dawns on you that he's comparing your relationship to the one you'd divulged to him last night – that he's finding fault in himself and drawing loathsome parallels to how your ex had behaved and treated you.
Amazed, you caress his cheek and cut in, "Javi, you are the best man I've ever been with. You've never done anything that could ever compare to the hellish toxic bullshit I put up with from Roman."
Disarmed, Javier stares at you and tenses at the declaration.
Seeing his coffee-brewed eyes crinkle while his mouth presses in tightly in surly tension, you continue with conviction, "The only time I've ever been scared was that night when Danvers accosted me. And even then, it was being scared for you, you dope. You think a few furious blowups and shouting matches – all of which, I might add, mostly riled me up or turned me on – ever scared me?" Pausing when his expression melts into comical intrigue, you snicker and cup his jaw affectionately while you purr, "You, Javier Felipe Peña, are the love of my life. I've never been happier, and more hopeful than I feel right now, being with you."
He exhales noisily at that and rests his forehead against yours. "So you're saying I've not been an asshole—" he begins to drawl musingly.
"Oh, no – you've been an asshole for sure," you interject glibly and purse your lips cheekily before continuing, "But in no way, shape, or form have you ever been a fucking sadistic bastard, or a motherfucking gaslighting scumbag."
He blows a raspberry at that and loops his arms to encircle your waist and pin you to him. "Thanks?" he quips, so you lightly shove him at his shoulder, snickering a deriding sound at that. "So then…what's got you all uneasy?" Javier asks, humming when you hesitate. "C'mon, I saw how faraway you got…talk to me, querida."
Deflating, you drape your arms around his shoulders and lean into him. "I was just…I kept worrying that after last night, you'd think differently of me – of wanting to pursue things. I just, I guess I worried it would make you think twice about wanting to be with me…" you confide haltingly, the anxiety crackling in your chest.
Javier encircles his arms tightly around you and heavily sighs after nuzzling your temple. "Jeez…we're both fucking neurotic."
You laugh out, exhilarated by his acerbic, albeit seemingly accurate quip. He laughs too, and you both just shed the self-conjured angst in favor for the wonderful grace of being so in love and on the same page about your feelings.
Once your mirth eases, Javi cups your jaw and nuzzles a kiss into the apple of your other cheek. "My feelings for you haven't changed, mi amor. I told you last night: I'm seriously fucking in love with you. Shit, I'm proud of you," he tells you with confidence, brown eyes warm and smile brazen when he adds, "I've never wanted to be with anyone more in my life."
Overcome, you literally cling to Javier as you kiss him silly, all your yearning, delight, lust, and elation sparking like wild fireworks in your chest and zinging into your tissue to swell in your bones.
By the time you've both finished making out like two love-struck teens, there isn't enough time to have breakfast, so you hurriedly yank your leather kitten heels on and shrug into your blazer while Javi fusses with his tie and scrambles to arrange all his belongings onto his person. You grab your lunches out of the fridge, snag your purse and tote, and herd him to the door when he doddles around in search for the set of keys you're slapping into his palm impishly.
"I'm fucking slammed today, so I won't be able to do coffee," he's telling you while he locks up. "I should be done by 7pm, though, so I'll make dinner—"
You grab his hand when he starts leading the way down the hallway towards the elevator. "Nope. I'll make dinner," you chime convivially, giving his palm a squeeze when he grunts. "Alright, let's make a deal then. The first one home, cooks. Fair?"
Javi's chest puffs out. Home.
"You got a deal, cariño," he rumbles warmly and smirks when you pull him into the open elevator and steal a kiss from his lips before hitting the button for the garage level. "But when it comes to dessert? I get to pick," he flirts as the doors shut. "And dessert might be an activity, most nights."
You chuckle provocatively at that. "As you wish, mi patrón," you sensually purr and suckle a kiss into his neck, just above his collar.
Javi groans, "Fuck, you sexy atrevida," and kisses you all the way down to the garage, where you begrudgingly have to stride briskly to your cars and part ways with a farewell peck on the lips before hustling to work.
Neither of you know that your loving respite is about to be jostled by very unexpected sources, so you simply look forward to being your best selves who're buzzing with anticipation of being curled up in each other's arms very soon.
________________
Read Chapter 25: Heightened
Spanish-English Glossary:
Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone
Buenos días, mi patrón = Good morning, my master/boss
Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman
Cariño = darling/sweetheart
Jodón = pain in the ass
Beyako pervertido = Perverted horny/naughty guy
Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady
Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy
Hermosa = beautiful
Tierna = Tender (female)
Mi amor = My love
Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire
Chavón = a man that's pestering you
Gruñón = Grumpy man
Lo veo luego, mi patrón = See you later, my master
Traviesa = Naughty/Mischievous girl
Coqueto = Tease (male); a flirt
La casa de los espíritus = The House of Spirits
Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl
Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)
Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious
Tengo hambre, mi patrón = I'm hungry, my master
Que atrevida traviesa eres = What a naughty daring girl you are
Amogolla'o (Amogollado) = Puerto Rican slang for lumpy, mushy rice; overcooked rice
Caldero = Cauldron; rice pot
Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled
Mi directora = My director (female)
Caripela'o = Puerto Rican slang for a shameless get over
Sinvergüenza = Puerto Rican slang for someone shameless; a scoundrel
Galán = handsome
Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful.
#Heat - Narcos fanfic#Javier Peña#Javi Peña#Javi Pena Narcos#Javier Pena Narcos#Javi Peña fan fiction#Javi Peña x Reader#Javier Peña fan fiction#Narcos fan fiction#Pedro Pascal#pedro pascal characters#Javi x Querida#Javi Peña x Latina OFC
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
Astro Musings No. 5
Placements Most Prone to Getting Stuck in Abusive Relationships
Are usually people with Venus in Scorpio because of the intensity of how they love and the intensity in which people love them back, Venus in Libra due to their penchant for trying to see the good in those they love. Venus square/opposing Neptune, due to these natives often idealizing those who do not deserve it. Venus in Pisces, due to their savior complexes. People with Moon squaring their Mars’, or Moon conjunct/squaring/opposing their Pluto’s— often they associate pain and intensity of feeling as equatable to love. These are the types of people who feel deeply and often have a hard time entertaining the idea of love unless there is some sort of “suffering” involved.
Many with Moon or Venus squaring Saturn
Can endure the same thing/have the same habits. I’ve found with the latter two the duration of these relationships will last a lot longer. This is because Saturn adds longevity to relationships.
Nessus in aspect to Dejanira in synastry
Can also cause obsession or at its worst, abuse. Sparknotes version of the Greek myth is a wild centaur named Nessus attempted to kidnap and rape Dejanira as he was ferrying her across the river Euenos, but she was rescued by Heracles. If you’ve ever watched Disney’s Hercules, Megara is the Hollywood version of this broad. In regard to synastry Dejanira is the asteroid of the victim, especially sexual, and Nessus indicates the abuser. If this appears in synastry you can be certain two people will have some sort of abuse involved in their relationship or some sort of intense obsession with each other than may not be altogether healthy. Be careful if it aspects [in square or opposition] Sado or Algol. No bueno. If touching Chiron it there will be some sort of lesson involved. Make sure it’s one worth learning. Aspects like these in astrology can be very humbling.
Typically if One Has an Aspect Natally it Will Often Appear in Synastry With Another.
For example, One can have their Sun opposing their moon and often attract people whose moons oppose or square their sun. If one has a Mercury squaring their Pluto, they may attract someone whos Pluto square’s their Mercury. You can often always trace a synastry aspect back to one or the other person’s natal chart.
People with Venus Conjunct Lilith
Will have enormous sex appeal. Their basic femininity will be in touch with their wild femininity. If in the 10th house, they may make a career out of it. Become models or make money off their figures. One of my best friends is a porn star and has this aspect. Her ‘Only Fans’ is poppin’.
People with Sagittarius 5th houses
Can/will adopt children from other countries or have children in countries other than their native land. Angelina Jolie’s 5th house is in Sagittarius and her whole brood save for 3 are of different ethnicities.
People with the same rising sign as you often deal with many of the same issues as you and therefore, can be easier to have friendships/relationships with. This is typically because two people will have the same houses/house sign cusps.
Placements That Make One Lucky
Are often strong Jupiter placements. Jupiter rules fortune and is in general a benefic planet. Wherever he touches will show growth or excess of energy. It is best when he is working harmoniously. So, Jupiter trining/conjunct/sextiling inner planets or Jupiter trining the north node. Jupiter as the most elevated planet is a good indicator of someone who often gets lucky in the nick of time. Luck often comes through at the clutch for these folks. Asteroid Fortuna, Fama, or Abundantia making harmonious/conjunctions to planets like Jupiter, the Sun, or the Moon. The Sun in the 10th house is a good indicator of someone lucky in their career. Asteroid Karma No. 3811 in favorable aspect to inner planets, and/or Asteroid Talent No. 33154 in favorable aspect to inner planets or in benefic houses.
A good place to look to see determine someone’s physical features is often their Sun, Rising, Dominant planet, or Midheaven.
Yes, I know, not very exciting but I keep telling you guys to stop ignoring your Sun. It is the most powerful Planet in your chart. However, if we were to look beyond the Sun, Your rising sign is your face. Someone with a Scorpio rising will inevitably have some sort of intensity to them. 9 times out of 10, it has something to do with their eyes. The Midheaven will also show you a bit more, usually how a person carries themselves. I often find those with Virgo or Venus Midheavens [women] are very good in heels. Good with structured walking. Men will often have model-esque walks as well. Attention grabbers. Same with those with Capricorn MC’s. Neptune MC’s have a bit of a “swagger to their walk” like they’re swimming through air. Gemini MC’s are often very light on their feet. Aries MC’s walk in a very militaristic way. Straight backed. Authoritarian. George W. Bush has an Aries MC and walks in such a way.
Psychic connections in Synastry [Platonic or Romantic]
Are usually 12th house, 8th house, 1st house, or 9th house placements/Overlays. Aspect-wise typically Moon to the lunar nodes, Uranus to the Nodes or Moon, Vertex to nodes, PLUTO, or NEPTUNE to Mercury. Mercury to Moon, Mercury to Uranus, or Neptune. These are all highly psychic points. Having these placements in synastry/overlay will usually indicate dreaming of the other person, prophetic dreams [especially if 9th house or Jupiter is involved] Knowing what the other person is thinking or gut hunches about the person’s well being. If in harmonious aspect these will make you feel closer to the person or bolster feelings of affection. In hard aspect, it can cause obsession or the other person may feel as if they are “haunting” you. Trust me.
A Singleton Planet
is a planet posited in the only sign or house of its type [element, mode, or orientation]. For example, if your sun is the only planet in a water house, or if your moon is the only planet in a sign of universal orientation, those would be singletons. Singletons are EXTREMELY powerful forces in the natal chart. They can be considered focal points of consciousness, sometimes vehicles of manifestation. They are widely understood to have extreme expressions (or repressions) which are heavily symbolic in a native’s entire life.
People with many Aries placements, strong Martian influence, [especially if in aspect to Mercury or Mars], or hard Plutonic aspects [including conjunctions] tend to enjoy more aggressive forms of music. The types to listen to heavy metal/rock or hardcore gansta rap.
Leo and Aquarius mixing in a natal chart or in the 2nd house can make someone have a bit of a “bark” like voice.
Venus retrograde natives may have had a hard time or still have a hard time in their social lives especially if it’s placed in the 11th house.
On Chiron
People with Chiron in Aries have a fear of failure. Can suffer from identity issues. They can heal by empowering others and being independent. Chiron in Taurus feel as if they never have enough. May have grown up a bit poor or might feel as if they don’t deserve nice things. They can heal by being financially responsible, but also treating themselves to something nice once in a while. Chiron in Gemini feels like no one understands them, may have suffered from feeling unintelligent or their mental pursuits were discouraged. They can heal by speaking up. Writing or singing. Translating their pain into beautiful intellectual activity. Chiron in Cancer feel as if they can’t be vulnerable They may have been made to feel ashamed of their emotions. May have suffered neglect at home, specifically from the mother. They can heal by taking care of others. Cooking. Expressing themselves to those they trust. Not everyone will hurt you. Chiron in Leo may have suffered from being invalidated in life. Feeling rejected. Having impossible standards forced on them. Not getting recognition for their talents. They can heal through channeling creativity into art. Helping others see their worth. Being playful and bold in their own self-expression. Chiron in Virgo may suffer from some sort of distorted self-image. Perfectionism or excess of criticism from others/family. As a result, they can either be extremely critical or compensate by being people pleasers. They can heal by maintaining their health and seeing a counselor [remember Mercury who rules the mind is the ruler of Virgo so mental health is NOT something to ignore.]
People with Venus in Taurus
Are actually some of the slowest moving people in terms of romance. Even more than Capricorn Venusians. They love to take their sweet time. If they were to be a Tarot card, they’d be the Knight of Pentacles. Methodical, slow-moving, careful. They are caring but terrified of choosing the wrong person, being abandoned, or making the wrong move. They study the object of their affections almost to the level of Plutonians [but without the dark appeal]. This is because they want to know how and what pleases the other person. Very traditional.
Cancerians
Are very jealous in love and can give Scorpios a run for their money.
Leo Moons
LOVE ATTENTION I've noticed even more than Leo suns. Why? Because validation is often tied to what makes them feel good emotionally [moon]. These are the people who will post about 20 snap or insta stories talking about their day.
Gemini Mars’
Have a problem with dry-snitching on themselves. This is because their drive is tied with their intellect and speech. As a result, they can often find themselves saying more than they mean to.
Aquarian placements
Are high-key opinionated but are can also be the least accepting of other points of view, especially if Saturn/Capricorn is in the mix. This is because they are fixed air. So their mindsets/intellectual opinions are hard-pressed to change. Good luck trying to win an argument with one. However, they do move on quickly because they are detached by nature.
Sagittarians/strong sag placements will often make friends the easiest out of any zodiac sign. Opinionated but their curiosity for people from all walks of life makes it easy to relate to them. Those who come after would most likely be Gemini moons or 5th House/ 11th House Leo’s.
6th house placements, especially if Leo or Pisces sits on the cusp often are very good with animals. Piggybacking on that, Piscean placements tend to have an almost telepathic ability with animals.
Cats seem to take to Scorpionic people very easily, even if the native doesn’t care for them. As a matter of fact, most Scorpionic people have a knack with animals that are nocturnal. Spiders, Owls, Cats, Foxes. These animals will likely find a Scorpio native/ those with heavy Scorpio placements out of nowhere or perhaps never bite them.
Astro Musings No. 1 Astro Musings No. 2 Astro Musings No. 3 Astro Musings No. 4 Astro Musings No. 6 Astro Musings No. 7 Astro Musings No. 8 Astro Musings No. 9 Astro Musings No. 10
#astro musings#a compilation of your unanswered asks in one place#astro musings No. 5#astro notes#my writing#astro tumblr#bruja tips#Chiron#Aries#Taurus#Gemini#Cancer#Leo#Virgo#Libra#Scorpio#Sagittarius#Capricorn#Aquarius#Pisces#House astrology#astrology
1K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
lilwitchyvibes
100% that witch
parentsbesluts
girls who die from liver failure
free-the-elves
ugh
helm2023
Untitled
zivile
Untitled