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whatsnewalycat · 2 years

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Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 1: Wishful Drinking

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Masturbation, voyeurism, binge drinking, smoking, swearing, nsfw, dirty talk, movie nerd shit, end of season 2 canon, attempts at humor, vulnerable Javi, touch-starved reader, hookup culture

Summary: In 1993, you met Javier Peña in San Antonio. You made an emotional and physical connection with him. Now it's 1998 and you're starting a new chapter of life in Laredo with your fiancé. And who else walks back into the picture, but the man who left you high and dry five years ago.

Notes: Music is a big inspiration in writing this, so I'm making a Spotify playlist for each chapter. Playlist for this chapter. I really wanted to make something where Javi can be soft, vulnerable, goofy, etc. Because CUTE. I've written a few chapters ahead and cross-posted on AO3 here. Let me know what ya think!! Pls be gentle because this is my first attempt at fan fiction in ages.

Apartment #303, Timberhill Commons, San Antonio, TX

November 29, 1993

What the fuck am I even doing?

You sigh and grab a short black dress out of the closet in front of you, then stretch it on over your head. Thankfully it’s a flexible fabric, otherwise it wouldn’t have fit over your plump body. Granted, your ass stretches the material so it’s about 2 inches shorter than when Michelle wears it, but whatever. You turn to look in the full-length mirror and suppose the garment isn’t too far out of your comfort zone. It clings to every curve of your body and the neckline dips low enough to tease the beginnings of your breasts, which are practically spilling out of a push-up bra.

I look hot.

Michelle saunters into her bedroom and hands you one of the rum and cokes she’s holding. She sits cross-legged on her plush bed, sips her drink, then sets it down next to the boombox on her side table. She grabs a compact out of the table and examines the makeup she had been casually applying for the past two hours, “Did you find one you like?”

You give a reassuring (and slightly played up) smile, even though she’s not looking, “Yeah! This is super cute. Thank you for letting me borrow it.”

“Hopefully it pays off so you can finally get laid,” Michelle giggles and closes her compact. She runs a well-manicured hand through her beautiful curly auburn hair.

You take a long sip of your drink, eyebrows raised at her, then sit down in front of the mirror and rifle through your makeup bag. I fucking wish. Michelle thinks this is an easily accomplished feat, but she looks like a goddess. Whenever you two go out to bars, men are entranced by her perfect body, honey brown eyes, and flirtatious personality. Comparatively, you feel like a garbage can (with the personality of a raccoon that hides in a garbage can).

Which apparently comes across to other people, because you haven’t been intimate (physically or emotionally) with anyone in a long time. You’ve been able to talk yourself into pursuing other interests after you broke up with your last girlfriend two years ago, with few exceptions between then and now.

And this is how Michelle talked you into going clubbing with her. She advised the previous day that it was, “literally impossible for a chick to go home alone” when clubbing. Which is undoubtedly a gross exaggeration, but you figure it wouldn’t hurt to try. You need to blow off some steam, anyway. Might as well.

Even the thought of someone touching you gives you goosebumps. You try to recall what it feels like to have another person’s warm skin against yours and can’t remember what it’s like. A sense of extreme loneliness echoes throughout your chest.

“Is anyone meeting us there?” You ask, attempting to pull yourself out of your head and change the subject from your (lack of a) sex life. You pull a tube of mascara out and start coating your eyelashes.

“No, it’s just us,” Michelle reclines atop her hot pink comforter and starts flipping through the Cosmopolitan magazine next to her. She lets out a gasp and squeals, “Look at this! Cosmo’s sex horoscope says that you’re ‘super likely to fall for whoever you connect with this week—especially if you’re hooking up!’ Oh my god, that’s perfect for you!”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not exactly rolling in prospects right now, but sure.”

“Ok, I know you don’t buy into it, but last month,” she sits up to face you in all seriousness, “my sex horoscope was all, ‘you will make a spicy connection.’ and then I met Mario, who was so hot.”

You don’t point out that Mario had a wife and kids he neglected to tell Michelle about before they started dating. Spicy indeed. You gently remind yourself that, while she is acting nonchalant about Mario now, Michelle hid herself in her room for a week after she discovered his betrayal. She is actually a very sensitive person, even though she tries not to let it show.

You’ve known her since you were both 14. She’s your stepmom’s stepsister’s daughter, but just refer to each other as cousins. Your family would come visit your stepmom’s family in Texas during Christmas and summer break. You and Michelle immediately clicked when you met, both teenagers fiending for an escape from reality by any means necessary. You could make the argument that, 13 years later, it’s not that different.

You finish applying your makeup and chug the rest of your drink before the two of you call a cab to take you downtown. Immediately after your stilettos hit the concrete sidewalk outside your apartment building, you regret wearing such a ridiculous outfit. It’s uncomfortable. But at least you look sexy. You both light a cigarette while waiting for the cab. It’s an unseasonably warm night. Between that and a fuck ton of rum warming your insides, you are almost breaking a sweat.

The cab ride downtown takes 10 minutes. This allows you and Michelle time to take pulls of whiskey from the flask in her purse. By the time you stumble up to the bouncer and hand him your ID, you feel fucking invincible.

“Minnesota, eh?” the Bruce Willis lookalike asks before handing the driver’s license back to you.

You roll your eyes playfully and retort, “giddy up, cowboy.”

There’s a joke about Texas in there somewhere, I’m sure.

Michelle pulls you along by your hand through a crowded room up to a bar before the bouncer can offer you more than a confused look and your ID back. There’s a DJ set up on the stage playing “Shoop” by Salt-n-Pepa. The dance floor is not as busy as you’d hoped it would be, but it’s only 10:00pm so you imagine it will seem more approachable (ie: so crowded nobody will pay attention to your terrible dancing) later.

Michelle finally gets through to a bartender. You don’t really need another drink. In fact, you probably shouldn’t have another for at least an hour, but your self-control is out the window, so you get one anyway.

Once the two of you find a hightop that’s unoccupied, you impulsively light a cigarette and glance around the room, and make eye contact with a man seated a few tables away. You can’t make out much in the way of facial features because of the dim lighting (and your poor eyesight), but you can tell he has a mustache. He is sitting with another guy whose back is to you. Your gut reaction (read: drunk reaction) is to whip your head the other way and hiss loudly at Michelle, “That guy is staring at me!”

“What guy?”

You gesture behind you. Her eyes snap to him immediately.

“He’s still looking,” she and then she smiles and waves playfully behind you, “He’s fucking hot. Oh shit, babe, he’s coming over.”

As if pulled by a string, your spine straightens. Michelle keeps eye contact with this man while he approaches. Your hand repeatedly flicks your cigarette, not giving a shit if the ash is landing in an ashtray or not.

“Hello ladies, do you mind if I join you?” the mustached man asks as he leans his weight into the table. Now that he’s closer, you see that he is, indeed, fucking hot. One of his hands is on his hip, and you notice he carries himself with confidence.

“Please do,” Michelle purrs. Mustached man sits next to her, “Your friend isn’t going to join us? My girl here could use some company,” She asks, referring to the person who was sharing a table with him. This was also her not-so-subtle way of calling dibs on the hottie, veiled as an attempt to be your wingman.

You look into the dance floor and guzzle your drink until you hear the straw slurp. This was not the way you pictured this going. In fact, this is probably the worst case scenario. The way they’re undressing each other with their eyes, you are undoubtedly going to be ditched… sooner rather than later.

He turns to you, quickly scanning you up and down before settling his gaze back on Michelle, “He’s been trying to ditch me all night, so it doesn’t look like it. I’m Javier, nice to meet you both.” He looks between the two of you as you introduce yourselves. He reaches over the table to give you a firm handshake, then kisses Michelle’s hand. You laugh loudly and roll your eyes.

Fucking hell.

Javier leans his body towards Michelle and starts talking to her in a volume you’re unable to detect over the loud music, and you feel the pang of rejection dig in deeper. You smoke another cigarette and study the people around the club. Anything you can do to distract yourself from Michelle’s giggling. You may or may not blow your smoke directly across the table out of spite.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom and get another drink.” you declare loudly, but neither of your table mates regard you. Shrugging, you peel your sweaty ass cheeks off of the bar stool like velcro and hop down, “Y’all want anything? No? Awesome, ok.”

When you return, predictably, you’re unable to find Michelle and Javier.

Go fucking figure. That’s so like her to ditch me for some stranger. Some fucking guy. Not like we could share a cab back to our apartment or anything.

You’re alone, drunk, feeling rejected by not only this stranger but also your roommate. Dressed up like a doll in fuck-me-heels and a little black dress, you’re so over it. The bouncer makes a comment about you “leaving so soon” as you practically stumble onto the sidewalk.

Maybe I could take him somewhere private…

You look him over again in contemplation, but decide to hail a cab instead.

I’m too horny to think rationally.

The taxi driver is quiet and has the radio playing. You consider giving in to your arousal and touching yourself on the ride home, but manage to cling to the one single decision making skill that tells you it’s not a good idea. Instead, you stew in your outrage over being ditched.

By the time you unlock the door to the apartment, you’re pissed off and spurned but don’t feel confrontational about it. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened and it won’t be the last. As predicted, you hear Michelle’s giggling and a low voice emanating from her room. The door is closed, the light is off.

You take a quick shower, then get dressed in pajama shorts and a tank top. By the time you settle into the dim living room, cuddle into the couch, and start a VHS of Stephen King’s IT, you’re feeling much more comfortable and slightly less shitfaced.

From behind her closed bedroom door, Michelle lets out a strangled moan and Javier’s deep groan overlaps it. Breath catches in your throat as your cunt clenches. You yearn for someone to touch you in a way that makes you lose control of your surroundings like that. Seemingly with a mind of its own, your pelvis thrusts up, the change in pressure causing a sweet tingle of pleasure to ripple up the middle of you. Your body calls out desperately for more.

You give in to the urge to expose yourself in the living room, pulling your tank top up just over the swell of your breasts. You pinch one of your pert nipples and begin rolling it between your fingers. Your whimpers turn you on even more. The possibility that they could hear you, they could come out and see you…

See, this is where it would be helpful to be sober, because you could rationalize that what you want to do isn’t a good idea. Alas, you are drunk, so without thinking twice, you tiptoe into your dark bedroom, tank top still pulled above your tits, and lean up against the shared wall so you can be closer to them.

You squeeze your breast while your other hand runs over your clothes against your pussy. You’re so worked up, you’ve soaked through your shorts. Michelle begs “please fuck me… please… please, baby, please.”

There’s a loud thump against the shared wall. Javier growls and Michelle gasps. The pace they’re going is slow. You can tell because you feel him slamming her into the shared wall.

Your hand slides under the waistband of your shorts and you pull them down to the floor. You run your nails through your bush down into your lips, and spread your hot, wet desire up and down your pussy. You close your clit between two fingers, then slide your hand from side to side at the same pace you hear them going.

You think about how fucked it is for you to be eavesdropping and touching yourself. You wish it was you being slammed into at an excruciatingly slow pace, letting the pleasure mount. You could cum just at the thought, but you want to go further in this act of wanton voyeurism.

“Please, please, go faster," Michelle cries out. Javier groans and starts fucking her faster. The tremors against the shared wall are vibrating off of your skin now.

The fire inside you grows and a soft moan escapes your lips, despite how hard you were biting down on them. You release your tit and use that hand to start teasing your entrance. You’re so fucking wet, two fingers slide in with little resistance. You open your eyes to look across the room into a full length mirror. You witness yourself tits out, pants down, fucking your hands, illuminated only by the moonlight flooding in through the open window.

As their pants grow more frantic, so do yours. A feral moan comes from Michelle, “Holy fuck- ho- oh my god I’m gonna fucking cum.”

The pounding on the other side of the wall goes faster as the two of them mindlessly let out grunts and moans.

“So- so fucking good. Cum for me baby,” He pants and then you hear Michelle let out a drawn out growl.

Your heart rate speeds and you can’t help but shudder out a series of small whimpers as ecstasy ripples through your body. You watch yourself in the mirror as you cum all over your fingers.

Your orgasm glow is cut short by your own shameful thoughts.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

You adjust your shirt and shorts back into their original position, then shuffle back to your spot on the couch to settle in and act as if you’ve just been watching IT the whole time. After a few minutes, Michelle’s bedroom door opens. Javier walks into the small galley kitchen that runs parallel to the living room. Your heart starts pounding as you refuse to look anywhere other than the TV in front of you. He rummages around to get a glass of water, then wanders into the living room to see what’s playing.

You assume the mustachioed hottie is a creep since he took Michelle home to have sex almost immediately after meeting, so your hackles go up the second he’s in your eyesight.

She fell asleep and left me with her fucking weirdo again.

This is the third time this has happened. About a year prior, you woke up in the middle of the night to find a man, a man that Michelle took home from the bar, standing in your doorway watching you sleep. He left as soon as you sat up in bed. Four months ago, Michelle’s guest talked at you until you could not stay awake any longer. Then when he left he stole both of your wallets. You’ve decided that none of these strangers are safe, and try your damndest to stay awake until they leave, especially since it seems Michelle’s judgment can’t be trusted.

Javier sits down on the opposite arm of the couch and lights a cigarette. “What are you watching?”

“Stephen King’s IT”

“It’s about a killer clown, right?” he inquires, “My cousin was just telling me I should watch this.”

You nod, “Kind of. Although It’s not really a clown, IT can transform into whatever ITs victims are most scared of,” He doesn’t say anything but you feel compelled to continue, “It’s a neat concept. I really like Stephen King’s novels, so this was exciting for me. I think they did a decent job of making it into a miniseries.”

He hums in acknowledgment. The two of you watch in a silence that’s not entirely uncomfortable. Every once and a while he asks questions to connect the dots to what he missed. You’re able to catch enough glimpses of him to take note of his appearance. He has short, dark hair that holds just enough wave to indicate it would be curly if he would let it grow out. His skin is tan and you guess that he’s Hispanic. His nose is sloped and aquiline, which has always been a characteristic you adore. He has a strong chin, wrinkles on his face in places typical for someone in their mid-30’s, and full lips. His default appearance is very serious, or even grumpy, but he has a comforting aura about him that’s easy to be around.

You’re able to relax more after you put in tape two and he seems genuinely excited to find out what happens. You think it’s really adorable how pouty his face gets when the movie gets intense. When you notice him doing this, you unintentionally start laughing.

You cover your face to try to mute it, but fail, and you have a very… loud and “unique” laugh. The noise scares him more than the movie has so far; it makes him jump slightly, then he realizes that you’re laughing. He scoffs at you, “Are you laughing at me?”

“No! I mean- well, yeah kind of. Your face was just so serious. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you smirk.

He shakes his head and a big beautiful fucking smile breaks out across his face as he chuckles. Your smirk turns to a grin just because of how handsome he is. It brings pure joy to your heart. Both of you turn your attention back to the screen. His eyes don’t leave the TV as he quietly asks, “What would your IT be?”

You consider this. You’ve thought about it, but, ever the indecisive one, haven’t been able to come to one singular answer. “I suppose it would be spiders. Or heights. Or if I’m talking about my biggest fear, it’s being abandoned by everyone I love forever, but,” you suck your teeth, “I don’t know how IT could successfully pull that one off. So.. spiders, I suppose. What about you?”

“Being alone forever,” he confesses solemnly. You’re kind of taken aback by how honestly he answers. You turn to observe him. He’s looking down into his hands and they’re shaking. He appears to be upset. You’re not sure what triggered this, because everything seemed fine a moment ago, but you beckon him closer. He scoots over enough that you can lay your calves down on his lap. You grab one of his trembling hands. He looks up at you and you meet his dark eyes.

Your skin is electrified by the touch of another human. Especially this human. You fully acknowledge that you’re crushing on him, not just because of how handsome he is, but because of how genuine and kind he seems.

“You’re not going to be alone forever," you tell him sternly. He studies your eyes for a moment, then he nods quickly, squeezes your hand tight, laces your fingers in his, and turns back to the TV. He doesn’t let go of your hand.

You feel secure enough to let yourself fall asleep like that at some point before the movie ends. Which is a real bummer, because you want to know his thoughts on the ending. When you wake up, Javier is gone and you’re covered in your blanket. Michelle is drinking coffee at the other end of the couch while watching TV.

Thankfully, you’d be seeing him soon enough.

Chapter 2

#javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #javier peña x ofc #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #pedro pascal #javier peña x fem!reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters #jdett

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hannahssimblr · 3 months

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Chapter Eight

A much anticipated box arrives in the post one chilly November morning, and Simon attacks the brown tape with a stanley knife as soon as it hits his desk. I hover behind him vibrating with nervous anticipation as he peels open the flaps to reveal blocks of white card, vacuum packaged into individual piles. He lifts the first one out and drops it into my hands. “Have a look at those.”

I jam my thumbnail into the plastic and rip it away with a fervour to reveal my first Christmas card design. Merry Christmas is printed across the front with a jaunty, diagonal tilt. Every centimetre of space around it is taken up by stylistic holly leaves and bright red berries, and in between those are the little gold stars and dots I spent far too long drawing in with meticulous detail on the drawing tablet that I borrowed from Gabriel. Here it is, my hard word manifest. I smooth my hand over the top card and sigh with satisfaction. They look good.

“Nice.” Simon comments. “No print errors so far.”

“Yeah, great.” I say. “How are the rest?”

He shuffles through the box to pull out five more stacks. Five more designs I slaved over, and each one of them is perfect. If he thinks it’s odd that I sink to my knees onto the floor and hold the cards like they’re my children he doesn’t say so. He just starts clearing up the rubbish around me, mercifully ignoring the proud tears that have sprung to my eyes. I pull out my phone and take a picture for Claire, for Shane and for Jude.

I did it!

Their excited responses are just starting to come in when Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He has an annoying ringtone that distracts me far too much from my excitement. He picks it up.

“Hey Shell what’s up?

I bring the cards over to my desk and start unpacking them, sorting them into stacks with the correct envelopes as he has his loud conversation.

“Hang on what- really? Oh shit, what- okay but who-” Simon makes moves towards the stairs, and the urgency of his movements makes me snap to attention. “Do you know where she is exactly?” He disappears out of earshot, and I’m left staring at the staircase where he was only a moment before. I catch Izzy’s eye. She’s frowning with concern, a deep line carved between her brows. “Do you think it’s something about Jen?” she asks me, and I shrug. “I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on with her.”

“Oh.”

Simon comes back into the studio about five minutes later without saying a word. He hunches over his desk and yanks his sketchbook out in front of him. I listen to the sound of him tapping a pencil on the pages, drawing nothing, but I pretend not to notice. It’s minutes before his phone rings again, and he doesn’t move from his desk to answer it this time.

“Yeah? Oh, she did. Where did she say she was then?” A hassled sigh. “What? Like, how did she even- well no it’s not like you can just get a bus there, can you? …And your dad? …No, okay, obviously. Well, look… yeah but like, the taxi will cost a bloody fortune, I mean like a fortune. Surely you know someone with a licence?”

I continue sorting out the envelopes, trying very hard not to eavesdrop on Simon, but even with his hushed tones he’s making it impossible not to.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ll ask.” He’s saying now, doubtfully. “Y-yeah I know. Fine, yeah, okay it makes sense.” He hangs up after another minute and from the side of my gaze I watch him get up from his seat and make his way across the room to where Izzy is working at the press. He speaks to her in a low voice, but I’m close enough to hear every word.

“Izzy, I’m so sorry to ask, but you’re able to drive, aren’t you?”

She hesitates. “Yeah, I can.”

“Look, there’s just this thing with Jen, Michelle is really worried about her, she’s way out in some house in Wicklow somewhere and it sounds dodgy, I-”

“I don’t own a car, Simon.”

“Right but you could borrow Michelle’s dad’s car. I hate to ask because I know you’re flat out busy this week, but-”

“I’ll do it.” I hear myself saying, and they both whirl around to stare at me. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be eavesdropping or anything but I’ll do it. I have nothing important to do today,” I quickly eye the mess around Gabriel’s desk. “I can drive, and I know Jen.” There’s silence. “Seriously. I’ll do it.”

“You have a licence?”

“Do I look like I don’t have one?”

Simon looks a bit resigned, but he nods anyway. “Alright, fine, works for me.”

We take the bus across the city and into Clontarf together, not saying much despite being smushed together into the cramped seats on the upper level. I stare out over the sea as we move along the coast. It’s been years since I’ve been here, and the autumn has turned it duller, sparser than I remember it being that late summer when I visited. I can’t resist a glance up Jude’s avenue as we clamber off the bus and head down the main street towards Michelle’s house. I can’t see the beautiful Georgian house from the seafront like this, and I know he’s not there, but still, for a moment I let a shiver pass through me, briefly transported to another time.

Michelle lives in a solid, 1930s red brick house with the trees that line the edges of St Anne’s park within view of the front door. It’s an old, leafy suburb with neat piles of raked leaves on the narrow strips of lawn that separate the footpaths from the road. She’s waiting at the door when we arrive, her thumbnail lodged between her teeth.

Simon gently lifts her hand away and kisses her forehead. “All good, Shell?” She nods. “Youse took ages.”

“I know, it was just the bus.”

I raise a limp hand to wave at her from where I stand awkwardly by the bins, and she waves back. “God, thanks so much for doing this, Evie. I know it’s a bit crazy.”

“It isn’t. I don’t mind. I just hope that Jen is alright.”

“Yeah, same.”

“What happened?”

“Ugh!” She rolls her eyes and pulls the door closed behind her. “It’s Pamela again, it was hard to tell exactly what happened because Jen was so upset on the phone, but I think they had a fight while at a party at this weird house out in the back arse of Wicklow and Pamela drove off and left her there.”

“Oh my god what?”

Michelle tosses the car keys to me and I barely manage to catch them, jingling around as I scramble to pluck them out of the air. “Yeah, Pamela is a fucking bitch. It’s not the first time she’s done something like this.”

“Does Jen even know the people at the house?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I don’t care either. I just want to go and get her, she didn’t sound good at all.”

I nod at that and we all climb into Michelle’s dad’s car. I have to adjust the seat to give myself more leg room. He must be a very small man. Simon takes the passenger seat on account of his long legs, and Michelle climbs into the back. It takes me a few minutes to get used to it, accustomed to the specific way that my dad’s car works. Where his car needed a knack to start it, this one roars to life smoothly. Where his car has a sticky gear stick, squeaky windscreen wipers and moss growing on the window rubber, this one is clean and sleek and easy. The glove compartment even has both hinges intact and there aren’t any ancient stains, but still, I struggle with the sensitivity of it, the altered position of the reverse gear, and we sputter and start all the way from the driveway to the estate exit. My face burns up, but neither Simon nor Michelle say anything in acknowledgement.

When we’re out on the open road it’s easier. I don’t mention that I’ve never driven in Dublin before, but I doubt there is a need to. It’s probably all over my face, with every wince when a cyclist wobbles into my lane, or a hassled sigh when other cars refuse to let me merge, but once we hit the motorway I relax. Still, I feel very small in this big car, like a little girl behind the wheel, doing something too big and too important to be appropriate.

Michelle has the address of the house on her phone, and she directs the whole way, as dual carriageway becomes a singular lane, and as a slip road takes us from narrow road to narrower, until the road is flanked with a canopy of rust coloured trees, dappled late morning sun on the hood of the car. We drive for an hour without the radio on. Just quiet, until eventually we reach a small town with grey buildings on both sides of the road. There is an internet café and a pizza takeaway with a cartoonish Italian man painted on the window.

“There ought to be an estate up here.” Michelle pipes up from behind me. “On the right.”

“That’s where she is?”

“I hope so. She stopped responding to my messages half an hour ago.” Her voice cracks a little there, and Simon reaches back to comfort her. “She’s fine, Shell. Don’t worry about it. Where could she have gone?”

It’s a large estate. There is a hill that rises high over the town, and I swing around a labyrinth of roundabouts and side roads, sure that without sat-nav I would never find my way out of here again. I mount the curb outside a house that looks exactly like all the others, save for the overgrown lawn. Simon gets out of the car and bangs on the door.

“Should we get out?” I say.

“Probably not” Replies Michelle. “Simon will handle it.” We both watch him wait there. There is a lump beneath my ribs that grows with every passing second, unable to take my eyes off the door, trying to ward off any unhelpful thoughts for the sake of Michelle, and then the door swings open, and Jen is there.

I can’t hear their conversation, but I can see Jen wringing her hands and nodding at him. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since Izzy’s gig, and she seems even smaller now than she did then, even in the way that she holds herself, hands clutched around her body, shoulders hunched forward like she’s trying to turn herself into the tiniest woman alive. Simon comes back to open up the back door for her and the moment she climbs inside Michelle has her arms around her neck and is stroking the back of her hair.

“Jen.” She says hoarsely. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry.” Jen says in a voice just above a whisper. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She sniffs loudly. “It’s Pamela who should be.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Simon climbs into the passenger seat next to me, very quietly so as to not disturb them, and we sit there stoically, staring straight ahead. Jen is crying now too, swiping her face with her sleeves and whimpering. I watch Michelle in the rear view mirror, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands and helping, makeup dried onto her best friend’s face in grey streams.

“Maybe we should get going.” Simon says to me in a low voice, and I nod, staring up the engine and gingerly pulling away from the curb.

“Oh, God. Evie.” Jen says, noticing me for the first time. “You drove all the way out here? What-”

“It’s alright, nobody else has a licence. I’m happy to do it. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“God, this is bonkers. I can’t believe you had to do this.” She bursts into tears again, causing Michelle to cluck over her, gently shushing her, pulling her wet face into her shoulder.

“Jen.” She’s saying softly. “This can’t keep happening. Pamela doesn’t treat you nicely. Someone who loves you like she says she does, she’d never drive away and leave you in a house full of strangers like that.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You have to think about what’s best for you, the happiness that you deserve. She doesn’t deserve you. She doesn’t treat you nicely.”

“I know, I know.” Jen says in a voice that makes me wonder how many times they’ve had this very conversation before. “You’re right.”

“Who are those people?”

“Her friends from somewhere. I don’t know. Or maybe not her friends, even. She buys drugs from them.”

“And what,” Michelle says carefully, calmly. “That’s what you were doing these last two days? Just partying and doing drugs?”

Jen makes a small sound of agreement.

“And then?”

“I pissed her off. I said something stupid, and she got annoyed with me. She thinks I embarrassed her in front of everyone else. We argued, and then she eventually left. I probably was annoying. I can be that way.”

My palms tighten on the steering wheel and my heart suddenly palpitates in my chest. I try to take a deep, steadying breath and focus as we pass through the grey village and back onto the country roads.

“No matter what you said, Jen, you didn’t deserve to be left alone with strangers.” Michelle continues soothingly. She’s good at this, I realise, good at hiding her true fury at Pamela and showing up as the supportive, reasonable best friend instead. “Can’t you see that? Nobody deserves that. What time did she leave you?”

“Last night, around midnight maybe.”

A pause. “So you were there all night?”

“Yeah, but it was fine. I’m sure she would have come back eventually, once she cooled down, I just got a bit overwrought, I had a panic attack, that’s why I called you. Actually, it’s not as big of a deal as I made it out to be.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and take a shuddering inhale. My hands are so tight around the wheel that they’re starting to hurt. Simon glances at me. “You alright, Evie?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

I let my breath out slowly and say as quietly as I can: “It’s just… it’s hard for me to hear that.”

“What? About Pamela?”

“About how Jen explains it away.”

He stares at me, and then looks away. One small nod of understanding, and he doesn’t ask any more. “If you need to stop the car and get some air, it’s alright, you know.”

“Thanks.”

I drive on.

I don’t think about Dean if I can help it, but still, sometimes those putrid memories resurface and leave me feeling sick to my stomach. Even now, when I’m so far from that place I taste bile in my throat, remembering the dim haze I existed in when he was there, casually tearing me apart with his searing words each time I saw him, the terror that slowly grew in me like mould, insidious, worsening day by day until I was afraid to say anything at all. Afraid to do anything wrong, to even touch him in a way that he suddenly decided that he didn’t like.

“You’re no fun at all.” He said one morning as I headed for the shower. “You just lie there quietly. I’d have a better time with my hand.”

“Okay.” I said. “I’m sorry about that.” and I went to wash him off me.

The memory scorches me. Tears spring to the corners of my eyes and begin to blur the motorway ahead, and I blink them away fiercely. I can’t think about this.

I can’t think about this.

“Evie.” Simon’s voice reaches me, and to my surprise his hand is bridging the distance between us and laying on my shoulder. “We can stop. You look a bit unwell.”

I glance in the mirror at Jen, falling asleep on Michelle’s shoulder now, pale and wan and thin and worse than I am. I shake my head. “It’s fine. Let’s just… can we stick on the radio?”

“Yeah, no bother.” He flicks on some golden oldies station and we coast onwards towards the city to the sound of Neil Young’s guitar.

“If you feel like lying down, mam has your room made up.” Michelle says as we bring Jen inside. It’s only the early afternoon. Her parents are still at work and the house is empty, and neat, and ordered and the kind of place that makes me feel like taking my shoes off, but everybody else leaves them on, so I do too.

“Thanks. Maybe in a while.” Jen says, and shuffles into the living room. As she brushes past me I get the scent of her clothes. Tobacco, that strong, overpowering smell that can only be from a place where smoking is allowed indoors. I follow her and sit with her on the couch while Michelle heads for the kitchen to make something for us all to eat. Simon hovers between rooms for a few moments before deciding to follow his girlfriend, leaving Jen and I alone.

“Thanks so much for coming to get me, Evie.” She says. “Honestly, I’m so embarrassed that you had to get involved at all. I feel like a fool.”

“Don’t.” I insist. “I would have never left you there.”

“Well, I think it’s obvious enough that I shouldn’t have even been there. It was so stupid.”

“It wasn’t, I get it.”

She lets out a long, enervated sigh and sinks into the sofa, and her eyes flutter shut, and it’s peaceful and completely quiet save for the birds outside and the occasional sound of dry leaves scraping across the driveway. She must be utterly exhausted. As I look at her face, pale and wan, I imagine her all alone in that strange house, up all night waiting for Pamela to come back. Sure that she would, then not quite so sure anymore, realising that she was stuck, and the inevitable dread that must have accompanied her.

When I don’t think she’ll speak again she says to me gently. “I’m sorry we fell out of touch. I didn’t know how to talk to you.”

“Oh, God, Jen no. Please don’t even worry about that now. It doesn’t matter at all, and it was my fault anyway, I was going through a weird phase.”

“I should have been there more, but I just… I didn’t really know if I had any right to intervene.”

“I was alright, Jen. I worked it all out.”

“I always liked you a lot. You’re a nice girl.”

I smile. “I liked you a lot too.”

“We should have been friends.”

“I know.”

She tilts her head and looks at me, and her mouth curves into a humorous little smirk. “I’ve always been sorry that it wasn’t easier with us. I have this friend, you see, and he has this long habit of complicating things with the girls I want to befriend.”

I huff out a laugh. “I have no idea who you mean.”

“Mmm, I’m sure you don’t.”

“I didn’t think you still called him your friend.” I say.

“He’s changed his tune lately, and has started complicating things with me instead, I suppose you could say, but,” A shrug. “I’d say we’re… well, it’s all a bit up in the air. Ask me again in another while. I don’t know.”

“Oh right.”

“You were talking to him at Izzy’s gig.” She says, curiosity in her eyes. “Are you back on speaking terms again?”

“Yeah, we are. A little bit.”

“Has he mentioned me?”

“Not really.”

“Ah. Is he still with Astrid?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” And she reaches for my hand to place it into her lap and turns it face up. She pulls my fingers so they’re stretched out flat and then traces the lines of my palm.

“I can’t read palms.” She says. “But if I could, yours would say, hm, unless you go out and ask for the things that you want, you can’t expect the universe to give them to you.”

I laugh. “That’s specific.”

“Wow, yeah, crazy.” She says as she pretends to examine me further. “That’s the same line that Jude has.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, his palm also tells him to cop on for once and be honest with himself, but I’d be surprised if he did. For a smart boy he’s so unbelievably stupid sometimes.”

I draw my hand away and rest it in my lap again, and this joke scenario doesn’t feel quite so funny all of a sudden. Jen knows, but she’s calm beside me, and her gaze is steady and insistent. “He doesn’t make good choices, he’s just like that, he probably won’t get his head screwed on right until he’s in his thirties. It’s nothing to do with you. He’ll keep choosing girls that are wrong for him.”

“You think Astrid is wrong for him?”

“Astrid’s completely gorgeous, but have you ever spoken to her?”

I shake my head.

“She’s not funny. She’s nice, and she’s very clever and capable and mature and all of that, but in all of the time I’ve spent with her over the last three years, not once has she ever told a joke, or a funny story or said something in an even slightly funny way. She’s dull, Evie. I honestly never got what the appeal was.”

“I’m sure there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

“You mean she’s good in bed or something?”

Heat flares in my cheeks. “Well I didn’t mean that, but I suppose maybe. He must be going out with her for legitimate reasons that outweigh her non-existent sense of humour.”

“We all know, love, all of his friends know why, and it because he’s literally not able to be on his own. He hates being single, he always said that it made him feel uncomfortable to be by himself. Astrid was just there.”

“I’m sure he’s crazy in love with her too, though.” I don’t know why I’m choosing to defend a woman who was nothing short of blatantly unpleasant to me outside the café on one of the only occasions that I met her, but I simply can’t fathom the Jude that I know making a shallow choice based on convenience.

“Yeah, as much as you can be in love with a person who you’re completely incompatible with. She’s Leo.” Jen stares at me as if this proves everything, but I shrug. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means they can’t understand one another fundamentally, Leo can’t date Scorpio, it just never works out, but you, you’re Pisces. You’re both sensitive, artistic little water signs. You’re perfect for each other. It’s legitimately written in the stars.”

“I think he and I have probably moved past the possibility of anything happening.”

“Do you want it to?”

I hesitate, because I do. Of course I do, it feels like in my whole life I’ve never really wanted anyone or anything as badly as I’ve wanted him, the boy who made every other crush I’ve had in my life seem completely laughable, conjuring up feelings inside me that I only thought existed in movies, but I am terrified of my feelings for him, and terrified of finding out that he might return them.

“He’s still with her.” I say.

“I think he’ll figure out what he really wants sooner or later.”

“Well I think it’s silly to talk about this.”

“Whatever, chick.” Her eyes slide away from mine and she tilts her head to gaze out the window, through the venetian blinds out to the suburban scene, and I meet eyes with a porcelain dog on the mantelpiece, next to a dutch clock with a rotating pendulum that twists back and forth, back and forth in centrifugal motion. Jen checks her phone to find no new messages.

“I know how it feels to care a lot about a person who doesn’t treat you very nicely.” I say in sympathy, and she doesn’t move, or look at me, and her hands, with nails chewed down to the quick, tighten around her phone. “I know.” she says. “But sometimes it feels like a miracle to be wanted by anybody at all.”

A lump forms in my throat and my heart flutters. “Yeah, I get that.” I swallow convulsively. “But feeling like that doesn’t make it true.”

“But things are different when you aren’t beautiful and you can’t just have what you want.”

Something clatters loudly in the kitchen and we both snap around to look in the direction of the french doors.

“Sorry.” Michelle calls out. “Dropped a tray in the sink.” and Simon’s shadow moves across the frosted glass as he reaches for the handle.

“Evie.” Jen says suddenly, soberly, and my eyes flick to hers again. “Don’t tell Jude about what happened today. Don’t tell him where I was or what you had to do to help me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, please, just like, as a favour.”

I hesitate. “I suppose.”

“I can’t handle it if he knows. He gets too emotional. He’ll call me, and I can’t talk to him right now.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll keep it between us.”

She visibly relaxes again. “Okay, good. Thank you.”

“No problem” I’m saying, just as Michelle and Simon come back into the room with a tray laden down with our lunch.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3 #tw: abuse #tw:drugs #tw: mental health

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calzone-d · 1 year

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ted + your baby bump headcanons:

definitely has a hand on it from day one, even before you’re showing

some mornings you wake up to him halfway down the bed, face to face with your belly, talking to baby

takes so many pictures of you, you + henry + bump

when you start showing he def stands beside you with an arm wrapped around you, rubbing the bump

^ even at work, esp when he’s stressed or they have a lot going on, it helps calm him down

very protective of the bump

tells keeley and rebecca to make sure you’re extra careful, esp in the box at games, and always brings an extra scarf/throw for you to have to keep warm

cries the first time he feels it kick

the mustache kisses make you giggle

you bring his hand to your belly any time he has a panic attack or starts to spiral and it’s one of the few things that will almost immediately calm him down

“feel for baby, Ted”

^ will smush his face into your neck and wrap his arms tiiiight around you and baby

OR will just lay his cheek on top of the bump sometimes and whisper to it

mmm pregnant sex 😵‍💫

will cradle the bump with his hands while you ride him

always holds a hand under it if you’re doing doggy style

def keeps up with your insane sex drive while you’re pregnant, always wanting to satisfy you

totally has a pregnancy kink

“look so good carrying our baby, darlin’”

“now everyone knows you’re mine, hm?”

“always want to fill you up”

loves teasing your nipples even more now that they’re more sensitive

rubs lotion or oil on your belly when you’ve had a long day

if you ever feel insecure about how your body is changing he is so quick to shut that shit DOWN

“you’re carryin’ our baby honey, you’re body’s doin’ everything it needs to so that it’s safe and happy in there”

i feel like michelle never let him be very hands on or intimate after she got pregnant, so him being able to be intimate and involved with you is a whole new world for him

introduces you as “my wife Y/N and baby Lasso” for as long as you’re pregnant

always a hand on the bump. 24/7

tears up anytime you both feel it kick & you look up at him like, “s’our baby, Ted 🥹”

will go back & forth with baby, poking where they kick to make them kick again

when you go into labor, still always has a hand on the bump

pouts when the fetal monitor gets in his way

in conclusion, dad!ted.

#ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso headcanon #ted lasso fluff #dad!ted superiority #my writing

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marielle-heller · 11 months

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notes on the end of Ted Lasso cause I'm really confused and torn and a bit underwhelmed and I want to make people hear my thoughts

Ted’s plotline has felt underdeveloped. despite being the main, titular character I just feel like it’s been kinda,,, not a priority and it’s upsetting. like I still feel like Ted as a character needs MORE! and I do and very much DON’T like his ending

Nate’s storyline has been one of the most decent tbh he’s maybe the only one I’ve liked in hindsight

Trent is also wonderful in that sort of way where I really have no notes like he's just great

I love Keeley choosing neither man, but I hate how these men oscillate between seeming developed and better and then reverting back to sucking. and good on the narrative for calling it out to some extent but it’s boring and exhausting. (and I understand that, yes, as they discussed, no one can be Perfect. but I really think like,, Jamie didn’t need to still be hung up on her they didn’t need to fight over her, something needed to be different cause there's not being perfect and then there's outright, why the fuck!!!! especially when we DID the "Jamie wants Keeley but then realizes he should move on" plotline LAST SEASON! like there is not being perfect and then there is, you have not grown one bit somehow, and Jamie should be Allowed to realize there's other women and he had his chance with Keeley and it's okay that they're not for each other! let him learn!!!)

cause also then the leaked nudes (another thing I have a bit of an issue with) just become,,, fodder for him being into her again and it's like, that's SO not the fucking time jesus fucking christ! and it undermines the sincerity of his apology if you read it as him starting to wonder if they could have another chance, GOD!

also the Shandy plotline was another example of something that happened a lot this season (also with Jack but it did develop how Keeley’s business is presented as taken on by Rebecca and her sexuality as well as a commentary about class so I’ll excuse all that) where a character is introduced, around for a bit, and then fucks off. which fine, can happen, plots don’t ALWAYS have to go somewhere huge they can pay off in entertainment or making a statement. but there was a lot of other shit we could’ve spent time on!

I hate how we took a plotline Ted NEEDS (being healthy with the fact that Michelle is moving on a coping) but combined it with Michelle dating the worst, most unprofessional cunt in the world (not nearly enough of a callout for him having been her personal therapist and then later a couples’ therapist (red flag on its fucking own) and then DATING A FORMER PATIENT AFTER WATCHING HER MARRIAGE END!) so that, actually, I think Ted WAS fucking right to be upset and I don’t think this SHOULD be something to just be chill with and fuck you, doctor!

I feel like there have been some good attempts to talk about real topics but that they’ve come off heavy-handed? the nudes being leaked is a great topic but the locker room bit felt a bit Much. and the way it just careened into, Isaac is upset with Colin for…. not taking enough time deleting the pictures so he takes his phone and I guess sees a dick (Colin you still could’ve been working on deleting that) and then takes it SO personally that he didn’t know… it all was So Much in a way I didn’t love

also it’s ironic we try to call out social issues but then play off things like SEVERE malpractice, abusive relationships, Keeley apparently having nudes I think spread by a teacher, etc. often for laughs

I really don’t get the Zava plotline in hindsight cause it’s another situation where like… we bring a guy in to make things better. he’s winning games but he’s got an ick vibe I think only Jamie really picks up on. it’s not super discussed so it’s like,,, has no impact, whatever. he leaves. now we have to figure out a NEW way to get better. back to square one. you could cut him out and literally it leaves like no impact on the plot except for Van Damme name change like I get!!!! that not every plot has to have a huge impact!!!!!!! but Zava was pointless and kinda a dick and I just don’t think it contributed ANYTHING to bring him in! maybe to see that they didn’t need a fancy player to get better but I also don’t know that ANYONE on the team learned that lesson tbh. and maybe that’s me complaining about not being spoon-fed but I really feel like if the message was “they think they need him but they don’t” it wasn’t super There. and having him send self-indulgent t-shirts in the final episode is really like… yeah okay guy still sucks

Rupert fall from grace plotline pretty great

Rebecca does develop a bit and I like that. she seems to go from being upset she’s single and never had a child, she still wants to defeat Rupert, but she learns to let go of that and just focus on what matters. she stands up for the love of the game, she finds inner strength. but still I think a little something is missing. I don’t think just giving her a man and a child fixes that. I don’t know, a lot of this just feels like something’s off. I’m glad she’s happy, but her arc this season wasn’t much

I really enjoyed learning Beard’s backstory but aside from that his main storyline is being in an abusive relationship played for laughs so like…. ugh. and Beard telling Ted he doesn’t want to go but couldn’t let him down is SO FUCKING GOOD, but, again…. I hate Jane so fucking much!! I keep coming back to the texts she sent in that episode and god she’s reactionary and cruel and obsessive and just,? and the one time Higgins tries to point it out he’s ignored it’s annoying

Jamie’s development as a team player has been SO amazing but again… I wish that translated into letting go of Keeley. but I do love him a lot. but let him let GO!

I’m trying to be… objective in that. things don’t tie up perfectly always in real life. but I do just feel… like there’s a lot of character development that don’t quite get!!!! Ted & Rebecca both could do better! I like the idea of them just staying friends (but DO they, even? do they have a daily video chat did he give her the biscuit recipe is there ANYTHING?) and there’s SO many good individual moments & characters in the show but I just feel like there’s a lot halfbaked looking at things as a whole

ROY KENT NEW MANAGER AND THE FANS OWNING THE TEAM AND KEELEY’S WOMEN’S LEAGUE ALL VERY GOOD!!

It’s nice to see everyone happy and together but then it leaves me more confused why Ted has to separate himself. I get he’s got Henry & I’m glad he’s coaching his son. being apart from his son is a big problem for Ted and I like that the effort to be a better father is a priority. but I still feel like things are a bit hollow. it feels like the narrative says that being a more present dad will allow Ted to let go of every other issue but I still just feel like many things weren’t fully worked at. is he an alcoholic? it’s sometimes implied!!! is he open to love? who knows!!!! does he have friends or another day job or anything to give his life meaning when Henry’s with his mom? no clue!!!!!!! does Dr. Jacob choke and die? one can only hope!!!!!!!!!

overall I liked it fine but this entire season has felt Off and Nate’s storyline is the only one I can fully endorse. I just expected from something that was so clearly planned out in detail to have less meandering plotlines, more time for developing characters, clearer closure, and maybe,, ANY evidence that Ted has not cut himself off entirely from his family right when it was getting good! if anything, it almost seems like he’s NOT coping because he DID do that! and footage of him & Rebecca video chatting or him flying out for Beard’s stupid wedding or on special occasions could mitigate that but instead it feels like he really is supposed to have cutting himself out of his found family entirely to return to his ex-wife and son as like,,, his entire closure. and so I can't in good faith believe he IS doing better. I can't.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso critical #ted lasso discourse #i'm sorry to be a complainer but i did dislike a LOT and after really liking the first two seasons #i think knowing it was ending did put me a bit on alert for the Why of things #which explains why i'm like 'this plot had no point!'#but um #idk i would have liked to see time spent on things that ultimately mattered to the plot more #some plotlines felt so pointless while more crucial things just fell by the wayside #it's upsetting

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k0koii-yu · 1 year

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Just gonna share a CC canon divergence AU I wrote couple years back where Lars is the mole instead of Angela. It has since been deleted because reasons (it’s all chill now dw). Also a few changes because my writing… wasn’t the best back then. VERY Angela centric with not very subtle gay because that’s what 13 year old me thought was a great idea.

So basically;

-Everything happens as it is except that Lars gets exposed as the mole. This, in turn, leads to Angela taking a break as Lars did in canon.

-Initially, I wrote that Lars’s mom was the one who took her in since she still had no parents and had the thought of him joining SOMBRA for shit and giggles. Since that probably wouldn’t make sense, I’ve now decided that she would probably return to Busan for a bit and kinda relax there for the time being, and that the triplets were being taken care of by a distant relative instead of Lars’s mother.

-There, she’d probably start questioning everything at first; since Lars would still kinda be the “artistic” type maybe she’d question the likelihood of hidden meanings in love songs/poems he’s made or even stuff he’s said to her in the past. At this point everyone checks up on her, especially Carmen, Marina, and sometimes Michelle and Ripley.

-Michelle also apologized for “ruining her perfect family”. Angela eventually accepted it; though later on realized something.

-Meanwhile in Antarctica, Grace is hired as the new forensics expert; but just like in canon, did autopsies for now.

-Sanjay got bored and ended up doodling and stuff. He ended up drawing a picture of a typical nuclear family (essentially a mom dad and kid family).

-Upon seeing the drawing, Carmen smiled. At the family part, but not exactly the part where she has to have a husband in order for it to be the perfect family. (Personal hc time: I, too, am a firm believer of lesbian Carmen propaganda 🙏)

-In this AU, she had internalized feelings for a certain someone; which she essentially repressed out of respect for them. Always tried to keep herself busy with other important stuff, but after the whole ordeal happened, she now has mixed feelings about them. Still decided not to tell anyone, though, due to her expecting potential rejection.

-Some time later, they get to Argentina. Angela also comes back from her hiatus (which in the original fic, ended up in her and Carmen confessing and then kissing.)

-I didn’t write anything after that, though, but just imagine Carmen getting out of her comfort zone in order to take Angela on mini dates and them overall just showing a lot of concern for each other when dangerous missions arise. Esp for Carmen, since she used to be a no-nonsense, implied lone wolf character in the beginning. She would also literally punch anyone who messes with her gf fr.

Basically that’s kinda it,,, yeah I’m aware it’s not the best, but it was honestly one of my favorite ideas and fanfics amongst all I have written back then that I felt like sharing. Will I rewrite this? Probably not; but the idea lives on here now.

#criminal case #criminal case game #if you can’t already tell I like Angela #even if majority of the fandom does not #I honestly wanted to post this but was hesitant

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imaginesforjohnnydepp · 19 days

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new orleans, we have a problem

nick and sidney were out walking the dogs when both of their phones began to ring. cleo was straining against her leash for another tree as the one in front of her wasn't good enough and sidney used her other hand to answer her phone. "hey michelle, what's goin' on?" it was very rare for michelle, sidney's head of pr to be calling her; in fact the last time they actually spoke in a business capacity was to tell her not to answer any questions about her father in the aftermath of the trial. "have you checked instagram lately?" michelle sounded frantic (but when doesn't she sound frantic?).

"no, not really. why, did something happen?" on the other end of the line, sidney could hear the clicking of a mouse and typing. "only that your baby bump is all over social media. a girl got a picture of you yesterday. i'm emailing it to you now." sidney exited the phone app and saw an email from michelle and she tapped the notification. sure enough, it was a picture of sidney from the other night, her bump on full display.

the girl who posted the picture to her x account, zoey, already had hundreds of replies under the post. the baby bump couldn't even use the excuse of being her clothes being wrinkled or a bulky coat (the last of the cool weather is dying down in new orleans). "oh shit. nick! you have to see this!" she titled the phone to her husband who pulled out her own phone and she saw him pull up x, typing her name in the app's search bar. there were thousands of impressions.

half were congratulatory while the other half were condemning the girl for exposing the couple's private joy ("this is something nick and sidney should've been able to announce for themselves. zoey should be ashamed of herself."). and of course there were the weirdos who thought sidney was "ashamed" of being pregnant and wondered why she didn't want to show off her baby. "so what do you want to do now? should we announce it?" a part of sidney wanted to share this news with the world, that she's expecting a baby with her husband, the love of her life, but the other part wanted to protect this piece of her happiness.

"i don't really see the point of announcing it. i mean, the bump is out there. i don't know what much else is there is to say, but i was hoping we could've waited until gabriella was born to say anything at all." they circled the block for a second time, trying to come up with a solution, and in the end, they still decided to wait until gabriella was born and announce her birth instead. confirming the pregnancy at this time would be pointless because, duh, people can see sidney is clearly pregnant.

they made it back home, where they were preparing dinner and talking about how gabriella should be raised. nick removed the grilled chicken breasts from the air fryer as sidney chopped and wash the vegetables. "i feel like if we had to move back to california, it wouldn't be l.a. santa barbara maybe? probably when she's older," nick mused, grabbing a pack of burger buns. sidney loves santa barbara; it would be closer to lily and her friends, but not too close to los angeles where she'd have cameras shoved in her face 24/7. "santa barbara is perfect, it's so beautiful there."

a few minutes later, they sat down to dinner in the living room, where they turned on hulu, trying to figure out what to watch before settling on shrek on peacock. they split a bag of jalapeño chips on their plates as the movie started. "we can still just announce her birth and leave it at that." and then there's also the issue of going back to work. sidney is due in new york to begin filming her show which would give her a little over a month to recover and bond with the baby.

"maybe we should hire a nanny. my parents can't take care of a baby full time, and you only have a handful of weeks to take off from the tour." nick took a few sips of his water and nodded. "maybe my parents? they can come here for a month, and maybe they can watch gabriella in shifts?" as much as sidney loves her in laws, it was a lot to ask two people to pack up and basically move to another state for a handful of months to take care of a baby. "it wouldn't hurt to ask." the nanny idea would be put on the back burner for the time being.

over the course of the movie they wondered if gabriella would like shrek, if she would be more drawn to music or acting when she was older, how she would be raised, and nick asked her how parents managed. "the only thing my parents had to really worry about was perez hilton as far as the internet was concerned, and i wasn't allowed to have a myspace page, but i found around that one anyway, but i think this is a conversation you're gonna have to have with them. or you can talk to danielle and kevin."

sidney turned her attention back to the movie, putting chips on her plate. his two oldest nieces alena and valentina are being raised in new jersey by their musician father and a mother with no ties to the entertainment industry, in the age of social media where your every move is announced by an update account, while sidney was raised in louisiana with her actor father and journalist mother, way before social media was a thing. by the time sidney decided to take acting seriously, everyone had a myspace account and facebook was in infancy. there are definitely stark differences of course, but he could see where things were equal: sidney had a normal-ish life and alena and valentina's lives are normal as well.

that's what he wants for gabriella. for her to grow up without prying eyes. he'd have to ask johnny and simone for advice and his brother for some advice.

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peeta-pocket · 2 years

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Balcony views: The sky was really showing out at 5:18am

#Mt Rainier #~mine #the one where Michele takes pictures of shit #skies #nature #just imagine the water tower isn't there alright...but it gets a pass because it has trees painted on it :)))#there is a park actually right below that but I cropped it out because Mr. Rainier >>> everything else #regardless out of all of the places i've lived (i lost count after 35) this def has the best view #personal #PNW feels

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pungentdarling · 2 months

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The Pungent Darling

Hello world!! The Pungent Darling is run by Michelle. Trying to fight imposter syndrome one post at a time. If it were up to me I’d only be going by Pungent Darling, but my mom insisted on me keeping my name in here somewhere. This was after I lectured her on why someone would choose to write with a pen name. I told her mine was for the anxiety of putting myself out into the world. This is terrifying!! But still she persisted. So, here we are, welcome to the blog where thoughts, opinions, creativity, reviews and rants will be held. Light a candle, grab some snacks and don’t forget a drink, this is going to be a post about my background to make me feel legit on why I deserve to start a blog.

If you know me, you know how much I constantly talk about “when I start my fashion / music blog,” or “when I interview [any celebrity] I’m going to ask them…” One of my brothers once told me “I’ll let you interview me when you’ve got the story” haha, harsh!! What can I say, I’m a dreamer with my head in the clouds. While I was up in the clouds letting my mind wander I started to remember all the things I did before I shut off my creativity. I stopped having goals for myself and ended up in the ether untied to anything. I’m starting to ground myself again and walk the talk.

I used to have a tumblr blog of pictures I would take of bands at their concerts, some with a photo pass, some from the crowd. It was a blast!! But I forgot the login, so that is a chapter of my life I won’t be able to edit. The feeling of adrenaline while photographing a band between the stage and barricades is wild. The screaming fans behind you while you’re photographing each band member feels like they’re cheering you on. I always wondered if the musicians could see me smiling (I tried to photograph my favorite bands at that time so this was a big wonder and wishful thinking.) I'd also be singing their songs as my face was shield by my camera (always wanting to stay out of the way and observe.) Shout out to my plethora of Canons, thank you for getting me into places!! This was a very fun and cool part of my life, I wish I would’ve stuck it out, but imposter syndrome and lack of passion will make you stop doing anything. It sucks when it was the only thing you’ve built your personality around.

DiD sHe Go To CoLlEgE?! YUP!! I graduated with a bachelor's degree in arts, majoring in Broadcasting and Journalism minoring in Apparel and Textile Merchandising. I shit you not, those exact lengthy ass words are on my degree!! This school is not worth mentioning and I’m still mad at myself for going there. Words of advice don’t go to a college just because it’s the cheapest state school and the school colors were your favorite complimentary color combo. I’ve always had a love / hate relationship when it comes to this section of my life. Through all the pain, came things I’ve learned that will stick with me for life, the good and the bad.

My vision for this page is to share experiences and things that I think are cool. Basically all the things I love and want to share; traveling and checking out new local places, sometimes a quick day trip! Two hours one way isn’t that far if it seems worth it, in my humble opinion. I want to share what I’m reading and cooking; concert reviews; travel logs; grief; fashion things; music interest and food places. I’m not going to limit / force myself on the length of the post like I would in the past, maybe that is why my previous writing / blogging endeavors never worked out. Third times the charm!!

Please enjoy this picture of me in a very weird time of my life, but looking at it now it’s one of my favorite pictures of myself. It embodies the chaos that is The Pungent Darling. I can’t wait to see where this blog goes, all I want is to keep evolving and sticking to my boundaries.

Xoxo,

The Pungent Darling

#spilled thoughts #alternative #60s #70s #fashion #pungent darling #personal blog #blogger #blogging #travel #traveling #travel blog

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sophialikesthings · 4 months

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Death Of Me Chapter 3.1

Song- Carolina by Taylor Swift

"Doc says you're doing good and getting better."

I stood behind Rafe as he talked to his father.

Ward lay almost lifeless on the queen bed, cords and IVs running his body for him.

"Don't worry, in the meantime, I'm already taking care of business. The legality of the marriage is on hold, we forgot to sign the license before we took off, but I got the other papers done, bank accounts, and passports. I got this" He continued talking

I shifted uncomfortably, my mind polluted by thoughts of JJ.

"Not Rose though, "She doesn't know what the hell she is doing."

"The gold in the vault, just like you left it." He whispered, almost as if he thought I couldn't hear him.

We stepped out of the room and left the door ajar,

"What do you mean the legality?" I tilted my head while turning towards him.

"We aren't legally married yet, We still have the paperwork to sign. But you sure as hell are my wife." He stepped forward, placing a sweet kiss on my forehead.

"Come on... we have a meeting."

~~~ "Thank you again, I know it was a long way to travel, but I think what we have is...is pretty worthwhile" Rafe leaned back in the wicker chair, while simultaneously grabbing my hand and placing it in his lap along with his.

"Yes. Well, Michele is the most prominent antique dealer in the west indies. Unfortunately, he only speaks French,"

"No English."

We walked towards the upright cross in the living room, a white sheet covering the artifact.

"You look good in that mini dress," Rafe whispered, moving his hand toward my lower back

"Oh yeah? Maybe you just have to take it off me later?" I winked knowing that was going to make him flustered.

Michele bent down and toughed it dragging his index finger along the embellishments.

Rafe stood arms crossed, tension rising in the room, I placed my hand on his shoulder and felt it drop with ease, as if it had taken away all his anxieties.

Michele started walking around it mumbling in French. His assistant handed him a tablet.

"He wants to know where you found it?"

"Don't worry about it. We got it. That's all he needs to know." Rafe replied quickly. Raising suspicion.

"It's here. It's for sale. So who can we get to buy it?"

He mumbled again whilst letting out what seemed like all the air in his lungs.

"Uh, for a piece like this of this value, there are very limited buyers. Like an institution or a Museum, B-"

Rafe didn't like hearing that, I could tell.

"I-" He started to speak.

"Let her finish,"

"But, he has a client in Barbados who will be interested. This client will have loads of questions. He'll want to meet with you in person."

He handed me a card and pointed to the number.

"Let's make a deal?" Rafe extended his hand.

"Let's make a deal."

—

"I don't have time for this Rose, Demi, and I have to get to Bridgetown. We're taking the Boat." Rafe walked across the balcony overlooking the front room.

I tune out their bickering to keep whatever sanity I have left.

"Maybe you don't need another drink. Come on Demi." He grabbed our bags leading me outside

We arrived at the place and they led us into a room filled with antiques and trinkets.

"Uh excuse me?" someone said, I knew that voice.

I spun around to see Kie, I let out a sigh of relief knowing at least one of my friends is ok.

"I knew you and Ward were behind this shit!" she stormed over.

"What are you talking about? Are you trying to weasel your way into my deal? Demi! Did you know about this?"

"Leave her out of this; she has nothing to do with it."

"Come sit, I must ask you a couple of questions." Carlos sat us down.

He continued asking about the diary Pope has and asking if we knew anything.

"I- I don't," I said, looking at Kei, my eyes asking if anything I was saying seemed believable "I want to help you... but unfortunately, I can't."

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that you know. Because unfortunately, I don't believe you. You and your friends couldn't have found the cross without it." He locked eyes with Kie

"Look this is ridiculous, I'm out." Rafe stood up and started walking to the door before someone stopped him.

"Rafe, come sit down, please," I asked

"Do I look like a fool to you Mr.Cameron? Do I look like a fool to you?"

I stood up and walked to the window admiring the view. Rafe and Kie soon joined me. We saw Carlos take someone out back and before going around a corner he turned back and showed us a gun.

"Rafe?" I got scared, he quickly took me into his arms and squeezed.

BANG.

#jj fanfiction #obx fanfiction #rafe obx #jj maybank #jj maybank x oc #outerbanks rafe #outer banks #john b routledge #obx jj #rafe cameron x oc #pope heyward #outer banks season 3 #rudy pankow #drew starkey #chase stokes #kiara carrera #death of me #Spotify

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agentmmayy · 2 years

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august rotation

sorry for the little delay in posting this! school started up and it’s been hectic, but here’s some of the top songs i had on repeat during the month of august and boy was it a hot month for music

hold the girl- rina sawayama: this song makes my ears orgasm!!!!!!!!!!! the vocals!!!! the BEAT!!!!! the lyrics!!!!! teach me the words i used to know, reach inside and hold you close, i won’t leave you on your own it’s about healing now and healing your younger self and trying not just to hold onto to who you were but to comfort them and hold them close. the entire song is a love letter to your inner child. everything about it sends me through the roof but especially the absolute magical moment between 3:17-3:30 HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!??!!?!?!?!! INSANE. BITING AND RIPPING THINGS AND CRYING!!!!!!!

it gets dark - sigrid: this song is so punchy i LOVE it. it’s about finding your own path and self and making a life and reaching those little pitfalls and stumbles but still having hope and learning lessons through them!! it’s about it getting dark so you can see the stars!!!! definitely a montage-worthy song. could definitely picture myself walking down a street or in a moving vehicle/train/bus at night listening to this

the boys of summer - first aid kit: i love first aid kit so much and honestly? this is how this song was supposed to be sung. no i don’t take criticism. it’s achingly sweet and soft and nostalgic for that last breath of summer august chased away.

out of my head - first aid kit: imo this is their best song to date. they just keep getting better and better. i couldn’t group it with the previous one because of that. it deserves to have its own little paragraph for me to talk about it. the instruments, the vocals, the lyrics. they know just when to pull back and push harder and it makes for suuuuuch a good listening experience. also the harmonies are *pinches earbud wire like pacha* so good. sometimes you DO have to get out of your head to truly see yourself and wonder who you are and where you’re going. stuck inside my dreaming, falling behind shook me. unrelated but i feel like this is a song i’ve heard in the background of my dreams before

shadows - bears den: @preux-chevalier put me onto this song and i haven’t stopped listening to it since. first of all the strings throughout are gorgeous. i’m always a sucker for a violin. second of all- the devotion woven into every line of this is breathtaking. it’s so earnest and loving and yeah i DO want someone who wants me and all my shadows

if it’s not god - maddie zahm: listen. i was attacked. wig? snatched. it captures that wrestling with religion and beliefs you grew up with and finding your own identity and what/how you want to believe. the line in particular what father picks a few just to leave the rest? SCALPED me. holding onto blorbo-ing this for the tags. but the cover art??????????? HELLO???

lucid dreaming - alice kristiansen: this was just rude. still haven’t recovered. never will. it has the rawness very few songs have that just guts me to the core and scrapes everything out without remorse. i had to sit quietly for a bit and just stare at the wall after my first listen. every lyric hits so fucking hard. the entire song is a repeated sucker punch to the stomach. it leaves me winded and aching. i can’t pin point a favorite lyric or else i’d be putting the entire song on this post but this one in particular made me lose my mind: are you tired? are you sleeping? cause i woke up with your ghost again. but the lyrics aren’t the only part doing the heavy lifting in the song because alice kristiansen’s voice is so delicate and the way she sings every line... literally no one else could perform this song as well as she does and that’s that.

the watching silence - michael & michelle: this duo has the most delicious harmonies and songs that simultaneously hurt me and comfort me. the chorus is pure perfection and i’ve caught myself singing it multiple times when it’s stuck in my head

canyon moon - andrew mcmahon in the wilderness: talk about songs that make me get up and dance!!!!!!! i literally can’t help myself whenever i listen to this song and for that reason i simply cannot play it whenever i’m working or in the studio. andrew mcmahon delivers banger after banger and this is one of the best ones. i crank that shit up!!!!!!!!!!!!!

dance away the pain - number one popstar: got read to filth by this. i enjoy how hopeful it is and ofc it’s an absolute bop but a very specific one. as @whatdoyoumeanif said, it has sad twerking and disco ball vibes. the type of song you hear for the last call in an empty karaoke bar

#if it's not god went right onto the eddissy playlist just for chrissy cunningham #wheeeewee #also bestie #the only reason i haven't left a very thick and in depth review is because whenever i try to listen all the way through #i ALWAYS GET STUCK AT CANYON MOON AND PLAY IT LIKE 10 TIMES #not included was august by taylor swift bc like. hello. obviously i had that on repeat and so did you and everyone else #august rotation #monthly rotation playlist #monthly round up #ness listens to music #actually obsessed with rina sawayama thanks #i had lucid dreaming right before why should i worry from the oliver and company sound track on my playlist #and boy did i get whiplash every time

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whatsnewalycat · 2 years

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Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 2: Loaded

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Binge drinking, recreational cannabis use, mention of cocaine use, smoking, swearing, nsfw, dirty talk, movie nerd shit, end of season 2 canon, attempts at humor, vulnerable Javi, touch-starved reader, hookup culture, PIV sex, unprotected sex, cheating kind of, use of daddy in a sexual context

Chapter 1

Apartment #303, Timberhill Commons, San Antonio, TX

December 1, 1993

In addition to going to school full time to get your master’s degree in education, you work at a video rental store, which you both love and hate. You love it because you get to talk to people about movies. You hate it because your social battery runs dry quickly. So on nights like this, when everyone and their mother is coming in to rent movies, you are completely depleted by the time you clock out.

You’ve been sitting in your car staring up at your apartment for 10 minutes. There’s a particular neon OPEN sign illuminating your living room that Michelle only turns on when she is throwing a party. She didn’t tell you anything about a party, so you’re dreading what you’ll find when you open the door. There’s weed and a tiny bit of coke in your room that you’ve been saving for a rainy day. Today is that day. You take a deep breath in and exit the vehicle.

Even before you reach your door, you’re relieved to know you’ve grossly overestimated how many people are in the apartment. It’s just about as quiet as any other night. In fact, when you open the door, there’s nobody in the common areas. Michelle’s radio and the very obvious sounds of sex are emanating from behind her closed door. You wander over to the neon light to shut it off. There’s a bottle of whiskey (emptied halfway) and two shot glasses on the table.

You stare at the setup for a bit, contemplating whether or not to take a shot yourself. Considering how dead inside you’re feeling, in combination with the soundtrack of Michelle getting railed, it’s pretty easy to decide.

Fuck it.

After filling both glasses to the brim, you take one, then the other, and grimace. If you have to hang out with another fucking weirdo- Not that Javier was weird, he was actually pretty nice but whatever- god help you, you aren’t going to be sober for it. You fight your body’s urge to send the liquor back out your mouth. Once the warmth settles in your belly, you go into your room, change out of your work clothes, into an oversized black and white striped sweater and a pair of black bike shorts. You stretch out on your full-sized bed next to the rolling tray to roll a joint.

Thankfully, the radio playing in Chelle’s room mostly mutes the heavy panting and wet slapping noises she’s making with her friend, but you keep having flashbacks of making yourself cum to those sounds two nights ago. It made you feel… decidedly uncomfortable with yourself. But you’ve always had a voyeuristic hunger that you feed occasionally.

Regardless, you’d like to tune it out today. You put the headphones of your portable CD player on and press play. The world melts away as you spark your joint and listen to Primal Scream’s Loaded.

Just what is it that you want to do?

Well, we wanna be free to do what we wanna do.

And we wanna get loaded.

And we wanna have a good time.

You’re completely elevated, staring at the popcorn ceiling above your bed as you sway your head and hands to the music. The two shots of whiskey are helping you feel loose. The tensions of being around too many humans for too long while working start to fade away.

After you have some time to fully zone out and decompress, you’re ready to join the land of the living. You pull your headphones off to listen to your surroundings, confirming that Michelle and her guest have migrated back into the living room.

You consider staring at the ceiling for the rest of the night instead of emerging, but you think it’s actually Javier you hear. This piques your interest. He and Michelle obviously have a “thing” going on, but you can’t help but have a crush on him. Whenever you think about the tender way he held your hand, which has happened more often in the past 2 days than you’d like to admit, a wistful smile plays on your lips.

I’ll just go say hi and have a drink with them.

As soon as you open your bedroom door, it becomes apparent that you need to drink much more in order to chill with them. Michelle is sitting practically on top of Javier on the couch, essentially screaming into his face, telling him a story about one of her clients at the hair salon. He’s giggling.

Fucking giggling, seriously?

“Jesus Christ how much have you two been drinking?” you grab a shot glass from the kitchen then join them in the living room, sitting on the floor across the coffee table.

“OH MY GOD, BABE,” Michelle hollers at you, noticing your presence, then continues to slur, “Javi and I were playing ‘never have I ever’ but taking shots instead of sips.”

Your eyes involuntarily flick to Javier’s face when she says Javi and you make eye contact. This is the first time you’ve seen him in a fully lit room, and it really didn’t help this whole crush thing. He has the warmest dark brown eyes. His entire presence is warm, which you find surprising because when you met him, initially he seemed to be much more… intense and intimidating. His face is flushed; clearly he and Michelle have been drinking heavily for some time.

Your eyes meet and he has a goofy smile, so you can’t help but fucking beam. What a cutie.

“I guess I have some catching up to do… Or, is it ok if I hang out with you two or are you trying to be all uh…” you falter and look down at the floor to hide that you’re blushing, “on a date or something? I don’t want to intrude.”

“Babe, please, join us,” Michelle insists and looks from you to Javi.

He adds in a teasing tone, “Yeah, babe, we’d love a third.”

And the fucker winks at you. Your entire face starts radiating heat because of how hard you’re blushing. You know that was his goal. He’s just picking on you. But you let your mind wander to the concept of being their third for one second…

And snap out of it before your heart beats out of your chest.

“Fuck off,” You snort at him as you pour a shot. He feigns offense. You swallow the whiskey while rolling your eyes.

The three of you played two rounds of “never have I ever” (like teenagers), in which Javier discloses he has not done cocaine like you and Michelle, which is fine. But then casually mentions that he is a DEA agent and is home on leave from his assignment in Columbia, where he’s trying to arrest Pablo fucking Escobar.

“Shut the fuck up. Are you serious?” You ask loudly in your outside (drunk) voice. He nods.

Michelle leans in towards him and coos, “That’s actually really sexy.”

A hollow laugh escapes him. He focuses on the floor and appears… haunted. There’s an awkward silence. You sense he didn’t really mean for it to come up, and doesn’t want to talk about it further. This tugs at your heart strings. He lights up a cigarette. Michelle sprawls back onto the couch, laying her legs across Javier’s lap.

A silence settles and you get the feeling the game is over.

“I brought home ‘The Thing’ if you guys want to watch it.” You suggest meekly. Michelle doesn’t like movies as much as you. But if you’re being honest, it isn’t really her reaction you’re seeking.

She turns her head towards you and scoffs, “Oh my god. No, we don’t want to watch your lame ass movies.”

You feel a stab of rejection and frown.

Well that was unnecessary.

Being in a state of intoxication, you’re unable to reason with your insecurities. Tears well up in your eyes, so you excuse yourself to go take a shower. The hot water pours from your head down your body. The noise and warmth consume you and you’re lost in its trance. You have a chance to relax and review your emotional situation.

Usually, you watch movies alone. Michelle hates them for some reason, especially the horror movies you like to watch. Which really isn't a problem most of the time. You ultimately decide you feel embarrassed that you wanted to watch it with Javier, and Michelle’s comment was just searing enough to make you feel like a loser for suggesting it.

The Thing is one of your favorite movies, so you love showing it to people. And now, in retrospect, it sounds so silly. A guy is here specifically to spend time with your roommate, and you’re upset because they don’t want to watch a movie with you.

There’s just this compulsion pulling you toward Javi. You think he might feel it, but you also think he could just have that effect on women. Maybe the living room is vacated because you actually want to watch The Thing after smoking another joint, cocooned into your favorite blanket on the couch.

Once you’re out of the shower, you skitter from the bathroom to your bedroom. You get dressed, roll a joint, put your glasses on, and tiptoe into the living room, dragging your comforter behind you. Javier is there, perched on the couch, but no Michelle in sight. A bolt of panic shoots through you.

“Did Chelle go to bed?” You ask, sitting down at the opposite end of the couch and pulling your comforter up around you. When you gather the courage to look over at him, his eyebrows are knit together and the corners of his mouth are downturned.

“Yeah I brought her to bed a little bit ago. She was falling asleep,” he scratches his face then meets your eyes, “Are you ok?”

Your whole body tenses slightly, you nod quickly, then start rambling, “Yeah, I’m fine! I’m just… drunk. And I was being emotional because I’m drunk. It’s totally fine. I know she doesn’t like movies that much, I- I don’t know why I asked.”

“It was rude of her to say that to you,” he says softly, “You don’t deserve that.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it to be so harsh, I guess,” you nuzzle into your comforter and gesture to the joint, “Do you mind if I-?

He frowns and shakes his head.

“Do you want..?” you offer the joint up to him after lighting it. He chuckles and shakes his head some more.

Offer a joint to the narc, yes, perfect.

He leans forward, puts his elbows on his knees, and fidgets his hands a little, “So uhh… The Thing?”

“What thing?” You blink.

A wide grin breaks out onto his face, “No, the movie-“

“Oh Jesus Christ, duh!” You cackle. Your laugh echoes off the walls but you don’t try to muffle it.

Who gives a shit.

Javier starts laughing, too, and relaxes back into the couch, “Your laugh is incredible.”

“If by ‘incredible’ you mean ‘extremely obnoxious’, then yes. Fucking incredible,” you scoff.

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t see how it’s possible not to like you or your laugh.”

You hide behind your hair for a moment, then turn to him and notice he’s focusing on your face. The rapid heartbeat in your chest picks up speed as you study his handsome features. You’re being a complete fool.

And he’s just being nice.

“Do you actually want to watch this or do you just feel bad? Because I’ve seen it dozens of times, you really don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he states firmly. You get up to grab the tape and put it in. He continues in a gentler tone, “I had a good time watching IT with you the other night.”

Your whole body hums at the thought of him enjoying anything with you. A blush spreads across your cheeks.

“Really? Ok. Well, The Thing is actually one of my favorite movies, and I thought you might like it.” Once everything is set up and you press PLAY, you settle back onto the couch, stretching your legs until your toes are just not touching Javier. He moves closer to you, pulling your ankles on top of his lap, then he pulls up your comforter to drape it over you both.

Conversation is casually sprinkled throughout the movie. You find out that he has been in San Antonio visiting his cousin, but otherwise he’s helping out at his dad’s ranch down by the border. He enjoys movies, but hasn’t had time to watch many since he was younger. He’s on disciplinary leave currently but seems like he’d rather eat glass than expand on that subject, so you don’t push it.

You share a bit about yourself, too- how you grew up in Minnesota, you’re going to school for your master’s in education so you can become a grade school teacher, and how you and Michelle have known each other. Eventually he asks about your love life, but there’s really not a lot to tell.

“I haven’t had much luck dating people down here. I was in a relationship with this girl two years ago, but that’s pretty much it, aside from the occasional hookup,” you look down at your hands, “It’s difficult when you only go out with your hot roommate and… you know…” you grapple for the right words, “people fight for a chance with her. I’m pretty much invisible. She’s so pretty and fun. I wish I could be like her.”

More often than not, if you get hit on, it’s by the wingman of the person trying to get with Michelle, and they usually give a half-hearted attempt. It’s not like you’re unattractive or anything, you just don’t shine as brightly as she does in those situations… and you’re a tad shy at first. But it has started to grate on your self-esteem.

“Listen, I don’t know you very well, but… don’t compare yourself to Michelle,” he says sternly. Your body tenses, pulling your feet from his lap up underneath you. Based entirely on his tone, you’re sure he’s about to start berating you, so you embrace for impact. But his tone is softer now, “It’s like apples and oranges. You’re very attractive, and sweet, and any guy would be lucky to get a date with you.”

A placating smile forms on your lips, “Sure”

If that was true, he would ask me out. If that was true, anyone would ask me out.

“You don’t believe me,” he raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not important,” contradictory tears prick in your eyes, “You’re right, I shouldn’t compare myself to her. It’s just…” you sigh heavily, frustration evident in your voice, “anytime I’m interested in someone, I have to hear them fucking her, you know? And I can’t help but think, why not me? Is there something wrong with me? I don’t know… I- I guess it’s just getting to me.”

You study your fidgety hands while picking away at fuchsia nail polish. He scoots over onto the seat cushion next to yours, gently extends your legs so your knees drape over his lap, lets one hand rest wrapped around the back of your knee, and then tilts your face up towards his. His fingers feel electric on your touch starved skin. You shiver. His brow is furrowed and a frown is plastered on his mouth. He studies your face as if to ask, is this about me?

And, you know, it kind of is. In fact, it totally is.

You’re horny and resentful, and the crush you have on this man is unreasonable. The words to express yourself are fighting their way into your throat, propelled forward by the whiskey still pumping through you. Adrenaline floods your brain and you can practically hear how hard your heart is beating as you meet his dark eyes and confess, “I- I guess I’m just jealous because I uhh… I wish you were with m- me, not her.”

You fight the urge to hide your face away in shame. It felt good to say it out-loud, but at the same time you want to puke being that vulnerable with someone who’s practically a stranger. Just an acquaintance, really. Your roommate’s short term fuck buddy, like seriously?

But his expression doesn’t change. He nods, his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips a few times. Your breath is sucked from your chest. You lick your lips at the thought of him kissing you. You nod too. He leans into you. You’re both still while the ending of The Thing plays on the TV:

Childs: How will we make it? MacReady: Maybe we shouldn’t. Childs: If you’re worried about me- MacReady: If we’ve got any surprises for each other, I don’t think we’re in much shape to do anything about it. Childs: Well, what do we do? MacReady: Why don’t we just… wait here for a little while, see what happens?

Despite your slight intoxication, you’re acutely aware of this moment suspended in time. You feel his breath, whiskey and cigarettes, on your face. You inhale. It mixes with the musk of sweat and his masculine cologne and the scent is tattooed on your brain. His eyes are burning a hole into you. The gentle touch on your jawline, the tightening grasp on the back of your knee, it’s lighting your skin on fire. You crave the feel of his skin against your own.

Javier walks his fingers from your jaw to the back of your head, trailing across your ear in between. He grabs a fistful of hair at the base of your skull, which sends ripples of pleasure from your scalp down between your legs. You gasp, and he pulls your lips onto his. You kiss him back, savoring the way his mustache brushes against your face. The way his pouty lips seem to melt perfectly into yours. He renews the kiss, deeper this time. You part your mouth to run your tongue along the seam of his mouth. He moans quietly and grants you access. Your tongues touch and it’s so soft and wet and intimate, you turn needy.

You pull back so you can swing yourself on top of him, placing your thighs on either side of his hips and your hot center flush against the hard cock straining behind the zipper of his tight jeans. You feel the bulge pressing against you and can’t help but roll your hips back and forth slowly to create more friction. His hands press into the small of your back, he’s trying to get closer to you still. Ripping your sweatshirt off, you expose your breasts to the room. His hands shoot up to cup them, but you stop him, “Not yet.”

You run your fingers through his wavy hair and pull him into your cleavage, sandwiching his face tightly between your tits while he groans into your chest. The noises reverberate inside your rib cage. This is fucking delightful listening to him struggle against you. You drag him out by his hair, and as soon as you see his molten brown eyes you breathe out, “Now you ca-”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he has his mouth wrapped around one of your tits, shoving as much of it into his mouth as possible. He moans while sucking and running his tongue against your nipple. His hand grabs onto your other tit and squeezes for dear life. The sensation shoots off fireworks in your brain and you let out a strangled noise. His hips shoot up into yours, then he switches sides.

“Fuck yes oh my god- that’s so good baby,” you grab the hand on your wet tit and help him tease your nipple. He’s drooling all over you, moaning into your tits, and you’re fucking feral for him. You resume grinding your hips down onto him and he releases you from his mouth with a pop.

You pull his head up to meet yours and press your mouth onto his, moaning into the slow, wet, hungry kiss. You break the kiss to whimper at the ceiling as your whole body starts to break out in a sweat. He takes this opportunity to pull your neck to his lips. He tantalizes you by leaving a trail of wet kisses from your throat up to your earlobe. He catches the lobe between his teeth, then closes his lips and sucks gently. You come completely undone at the sensation.

You gasp, “Please”

He releases your earlobe and looks up at you, eyes smoldering, “Please what?”

He wants you to say it.

You press your foreheads together and beg in a whisper, “please- please fuck me.”

He wastes no time pulling your hips up so he can unbuckle his belt and shuffle out of his pants. You roll to the side and yank your shorts off. When you meet in your previous position, straddling him, the heat from your skin meets his. Your swollen pussy is laying right on top of his throbbing cock. When you buck your hips forward, the length of him slides between your lips, head rubbing against your clit. You rock back and forth again, gently this time, and continue at this pace. It feels like heaven. His face is pleading up at you and you are on a fucking power trip. You lick and suck on his neck while unbuttoning his shirt, then yank it off of him and throw it on the floor.

Your fingers splay across his chest, then you drag your nails down his torso, leaving a trail of tender welts behind. His breath speeds. Feeling yourself and your power in this moment, you lean forward to whisper in his ear, still slowly running your wet cunt against his cock, “do you want to fuck me?“

He moans and jerks up harder against you while his hands grab your round ass and he desperately attempts to push you down onto him more, “yes, please-”

Pleasure has completely consumed your being. He’s looking up at you, eyes pleading, mouth open. It’s more than you can take. You slide yourself up his shaft so the head is dipping into your soaking wet opening. Then you pause, and you hear his breath catch. You look into his puppy dog eyes and demand, “Say it.”

“I want to fuck you. P-please let me fuck you,” He begs. You oblige, and lower yourself down his length. He gasps, “Fuck-holy fuck-“

As he makes his way up into you, every single movement fills you with ecstasy. Your entire body shivers at the feel of him inside of you and you bite down on your lower lip, a moan escapes you and you can barely form a coherent thought as you start rolling your hips back and forth.

His hands wrap around your waist and he pulls your hips down harder, which makes you gasp, “Fuck, Javi, that’s so fucking good.”

He completely lifts you up as he adjusts the position, moves onto his knees and turns the two of you around so your back is against the couch. You wrap around his body and slide down onto him further. He puts his hands around your lower back to support you. Your foreheads press against each other and you’re breathing into each other.

A loud moan escapes you as you adjust to this new angle and it lights your nerve endings on fire. He starts plunging in slowly, deeply.

“So fucking good. Your pussy is fucking perfect,” he breathes into your mouth, then starts frantically kissing you.

“Faster, daddy, please-“ you beg him between hungry kisses.

He lets out a guttural moan and instantly obliges, pounding into you hard. Your heartbeat starts thudding in your ears and you swear your entire body is buzzing. You’re completely lost in each other. Nothing matters but the two of you, starved for intimacy, completely drunk on lust.

You feel the heat of an orgasm begin tingling in your center. You start babbling “You’re going to make me fuck- fucking cum, don’t stop daddy, please-“

He keeps the same brutal pace and growls, “Fuck- yes, be a good girl, fucking cum for me-“

You look up and lock eyes with him as you nod frantically. You close your eyes, but he pants, “Look at me, open them.”

You snap your lids open to meet his dark eyes, and let out small frenzied whimpers as you ride your climax up. It’s so fucking hot to be looking into his eyes as it happens. Your face contorts as you feel a wave of pleasure wash over you as you cry out, and you’re sure your brain is completely fucking broken by this man. He let out a choked sound and his whole body goes rigid, he gives you a few more thrusts while both of you find your release.

He lets you go so you can lay back onto the couch, completely and utterly wrecked. He lays back on the other side of the couch, and your legs tangle together.

“Did you just cum inside me?” You ask quietly, still trying to catch your breath and return your pulse to normal.

“Fuck,” he sighs, then you hear him light up a cigarette. You follow his cue. He sits up and looks at you, “I did. I wasn’t even thinking. We should have used a condom, I could have pulled out. I didn’t even realize I was going to until I felt you-“

“I swear to god if I get knocked up the first time I’ve had sex in months I’m going to murder you,” you promise, laughing but really if you get knocked up the first time you’ve had sex in months you might actually murder him.

“Worth it,” he grins from ear-to-ear.

His handsome smile is contagious. You roll your eyes playfully, then meet his gaze. He grabs your hand that’s not holding a cigarette, brings it to his lips and places a gentle kiss on your wrist, then presses your palm against his cheek. You leave it there.

There you two are, making goo-goo eyes at each other, when you hear Michelle say, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Chapter 3

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