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jezebelblues · 1 month ago

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let it snow | h.s

summary: summer of 1979. where y/n just got a new position in the DEA with harry’s little crew in miami. but are there ulterior motives?

cw: 18+ drugs / drugs usage. unedited. fem!reader. maybe angst? idk, this is just a testing-the-waters type series.

word count: approx 4.2k

miami 1979 - a bright veneer. hazy pink skies, palm trees that swayed with you, and sandy beaches that stretched out like golden ribbons into the atlantic. the tropical sun held a golden gleam over the city, its absence allowing for crystalline stardust to waft through the breeze and send electric currents through the air, fueling a restless energy.

cocaine moved like a phantom through the streets, arriving in covert waves, slipping silently onto speedboats and creeping through clandestine airstrips hidden in the everglades. brick after brick, miami became a gateway for an avalanche of white powder that invaded the city, uprooting the once ordinary streets and turning nightclubs into sanctuaries of indulgence. a gorgeous juxtaposition of beauty and ruin.

sirens scream in the distance, cutting through the humid air like a warning. the city was electrified, humming with a violent undercurrent as families, law enforcement, and politicians tried to navigate a world suddenly awash in drug money. the city basked in its secrets however, becoming a neon dream seemingly overnight. corruption boomed underground, and the feds knew it.

agent harry styles was essentially head-honcho of his little team. the feds sent down their own group of people to each hotspot they could, miami, cuba, the texas border; in order to get the smuggling under control. harry was an exuberant man, vibrant and eccentric. he always had a toothpick balanced between his rosy lips, a gleam of sweat covering his sunkissed skin.

the sun beamed down directly above them, glistening in the blue waters of the shipment dock they stood upon. they were tipped off about in exchange in product, waiting patiently for the little fishing boat to glide into the shoreline. harry was in his usual bright attire, a hot pink button down tucked into his black slacks held up by his duty belt. a black cowboy hat casted a shadow over his face - the usual toothpick in between his lips, a punctuation to his smile. some of his curls fell beneath his hat, over his ears and flat against his damp forehead. his shirt was down a few buttons, revealing his pretty silver cross and the swallows inked onto him.

harry drew his shoulders back with a grin as his men detained two smugglers, the product dragged onto the pavement as they stood silently in handcuffs. “whoo-wee!” styles beamed, a familiar southern twang laced in his words. flamboyant. two gutted swordfish sat in front of him, stuffed with carefully wrapped bricks of cocaine that were poorly sutured into the carcasses - a rushed job done on the boat. “ain’t this ‘bout a bitch.” harry laughs to himself, kneeling onto the ground in front of the dead fish. the breeze whisked around the saltiness in the air, a nose-twitching sourness emitting from the fish.

he unholsters a pocket-knife from his duty belt, slinging the blade open and slicing across the botched sutures. every piece of the fish’s anatomy was gone, replaced by blocks of cocaine. he twists the toothpick between his teeth with his tongue, his fingertips spreading the belly open a bit to catch a better sight of the mountainous blocks inside this fish. his lips curl, a dimple greeting the men he shot a look toward. harry stands up in a swift movement, waltzing toward the two smugglers. “m’just tickled pink. could kiss you both right now.” he muses, placing his large hands on one of their shoulders. “y’all just get more creative by the day - i love it!”

y/n stands on the sidelines, a forced bystander. press analysts have to go to these operations, jotting down whatever happens on a quaint little notepad that sat in the back pocket of her jeans. only essential information was written down, basically the who, what, when, where and why’s of the situations they found themselves in. nothing more, nothing less. y/n’s first choice was surely not drug bust coverage, but she was new to the unit and couldn’t exactly protest direct orders.

she lucked out, in a way, to be apart of style’s team. he’s more of a lighthearted leader in comparison to his peers. he wasn’t his commander’s favorite, (due to his attitude) but he got the job done and always received immense respect from his subordinates. at first, y/n was taken aback from her boss’ electric personally, but quickly grew accustomed to it - a weight lifted off her shoulders.

the notepad that previously sat in her pocket now rested in her palm, a red pen twirling between her fingers. her eyes narrow as she watched the event before her unfold - internally cursing herself for not wearing sunglasses to avoid the blinding of the sun. her lips part, eyes flickering toward harry. “how many kilos?”

harry flicks his toothpick onto the pavement that glittered in the light, looking at y/n over his shoulder while words softly get exchanged between him and two other agents. strands of her hair danced with the breeze, and harry was convinced he could smell her shampoo from where he stood. he grins, his gaze barely noticeable from the tip of his hat. “n’moment, sugar.” he dismisses, averting his attention back to his peers.

y/n wasn’t super successful at reading harry very well since she started working with him. he’s extremely animated, always upbeat and enthusiastic despite the job they had to do. he dressed differently from his men, too. the other agents were always in some sort of black clothing, maybe throwing in a Hawaiian button up or denim jeans. harry, on the other hand, stuck out like a sore thumb. his fingers were always clad in rings, a cowboy hat his best friend had gotten him usually resting upon his curls (if the heat wasn’t too unforgiving). his nails were often covered in some sort of chipped nail polish, something he only did on away-operations because if the men at the home unit saw, they wouldn’t understand.

he ambles back over to the fish, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. y/n draws in a bit closer, watching the agent intently. his eyebrows are furrowed beneath the bill of his hat, going to an abrupt stop. the pavement creates an audible scratch against his feet as he toes the fish. the tip of his boot gently pushes it upward - seemingly trying to estimate how many kilos there could be stuffed in there. they don’t have a scale, but she would trust his judgment - he’s been doing this too long to be inaccurate. his head tilts to the side slightly, his hands finding themselves on his hips. “80..70?” he utters, dropping his hands and turning on his heel to face her.“ ‘bout 80 kilos for both.” he states with his lips curled, jutting his chin upwards a bit - expecting y/n to write it down.

she glances back toward her paper, red ink filling any blank spaces as she mumbles the information back to herself. harry twists his torso to look at niall, a close friend on his team. he mutters something incoherent to y/n, his fingers pointing in different directions as he speaks. he then lifts his hat off his head, running his digits through his curls. he lets the breeze sweep through the strands, chasing away the heat that sat idly between the hat and his head.

y/n glances up from her notes, immediately meeting harry’s gaze. his expression was stoic, unable to read. as he starts to adjust the hat back onto his head, she averts her gaze to niall, who removed two bricks from each fish and placed it into a black duffel bag. no one seemed care very much, or simply didn’t notice. but curiosity dances onto her features, her hands lowering to her waist.

harry doesn’t miss a beat, eyes flickering between the two nonchalantly. “s’got your face in a twist?” he teases, lips pursed into a smile. she doesn’t respond, sinking her teeth into the flesh of the inside of her cheek. with an exhale, she brings the pen and paper up toward her chest again, preparing to scribble anything extra down.

“ah-“ harry tuts, grasping her attention. he steps her direction, y/n’s expression blank as he stands mere inches before her. she can see his face clearly for the first time today, a slight stubble dusting his jaw and upper lip, his cheeks a tinge of red from the sun. the collar of his shirt flutters slightly with the wind, his scent dancing along with it - vanilla laced with tobacco. he gently takes the notepad from her fingertips, his larger hand seemingly swallowing it whole. his head tips down, his hat hiding his eyes as he flips through her papers. “s’no need to write that down.” he mumbles, reading over her cherry red words. “just protocol, darlin’.” he pauses, “takin’ it over to analysis, test if its laced.” he shrugs, handing the notes back over as he looks at her through his eyelashes.

“don’t i still need to mention that-“

“y’mention every time we read someone their miranda rights?” he quips, a familiar smile back on his lips. her silence responds for her, putting the notepad back into her pocket. he steps back, creating more space between them as she fidgets with her own fingers. she doubted harry’s response, not fully, but enough for her heart to sit a bit lower in her chest. when evidence is removed from a scene they go in it’s appropriate containers, not a beat up duffel from the trunk of a car. but harry was an odd leader, this might as well be something else he does differently.

satisfied, harry gives her a nod and saunters his way back over to niall, who had already threw the dark bag into the back seat of his car. the badge clipped to his belt shimmers in the light, the sun starting to dip into the horizon with a creamsicle orange haze. his hand delves into his pockets, pulling out a red and white cigarette box with beat-up corners. used. he flips the top open, revealing a huddle of fresh toothpicks and about three cigarettes smushed to the left side. he bites onto one of the picks, rolling it over to the corner of his lips with his tongue. it hangs lazily as he shoves the box back into his pocket. he’s been doing this for over a year now, wanting to quit his smoking habit. the toothpicks would hold the scent of the tobacco, harry almost tasting it if he focused hard enough. “you look like if mick jagger was in a western film.” niall laughs, adjusting his belt to sit a bit higher.

harry grins, his tongue fidgeting around with the toothpick. “s’what i go for.” he mumbles sarcastically, his eyes meeting the blue ones across from him. his brows knit together, his face hardening barely. “how many did y’grab?”

“four.” he pauses, “told her 80 kilos when it’s clearly a bit less than that, four will go unnoticed.”

he booms out a laugh, catching the attention of the rest of his team. he turns to take a step beside niall, shoulders almost touching as he takes the hat off his head, bringing the rim to his lips as he mimics blowing a kiss toward the people in front of him. “‘nother successful bust.” he beams, “i’ll handle the report tonight, i don’t wanna see any of you for the rest of the evening.”

the group smiles, a bit eager to enjoy the rest of their friday. nightlife made the city alive, it also helped that not one person that roamed the busy streets on a friday evening was sober. pupils were so big you could see your own reflection in their eyes, the alcohol off their breath alone enough to give you a buzz. y/n’s heart quickened at the thought of having some free time - she hasn’t been able to do anything in the city (that wasn’t work related) since she got here almost two weeks ago. not a drop of alcohol has touched her lips in a month, the three short dresses she owned collecting dust in the wardrobe of her hotel room. at this point she thinks that a pair of heels would be more comfortable than the converse that adorned her feet.

“-but not miss y/n.” he chuckles, pointing at the girl with his hat as he shamelessly rips her out of her own daydreaming. her shoulders falter, lips threatening a frown. “that file cabinet brain of yours will help me write the most earth shattering report the cap’n has ever seen!” he taunts with a smile, plopping the hat back onto his head with one hand. he didn’t need any of her help writing a report, he’s been doing it for nearly a decade. but, harry didn’t trust her well enough to believe she wouldn’t overthink the not-so-discreet taking of four bricks of cocaine. he also had a rapport with his team, y/n now apart of that - he wanted to at least try to get on her good side.

her lips press into a flat line, nodding absentmindedly to her boss’s words. harry peals over to niall, whispering into his ear, smiling softly at whatever he said. niall steps away, pulling car keys from his pocket and whistling toward two men to come along with him. everyone started to disperse in the few shared vehicles, niall going a different direction than the others who took off toward the hotel.

harry glances over his shoulder, watching as evidence is collected officially and placed into a van. he chews on the toothpick, striding toward y/n and throwing her keys that previously were hooked to his belt loop. her eyes widened as she caught it, almost slipping her grasp and clambering onto the pavement. “you’re drivin, honeybee.” he smiles, not breaking his stride as he rounds the car, waiting patiently at the passengers side door.

y/n stood frozen for a moment, lips parted in surprise, before spinning on her heel toward the sleek black trans am, unlocking the door and pulling it open without a word. she dips into the seat, pressing the unlock button so her boss could fall in beside her. he places his hat on the dashboard while y/n adjusts the seat, pulling it forward toward the pedals and up a bit higher to see the road - which earns a small laugh from harry. the engine roars to life, keychain dangling from the ignition. she one hands the thin, leather wheel as she turns to pull out the dock, their silence broken with a soft tsk from harry. “seatbelt.”

her eyes roll, not entertaining his reminder as she already pulled out onto the main road. the agent sighs, reaching past her and tugging the seatbelt down over her frame, and she froze momentarily. there was a comfortable distance, but his breath caressed her check coolly, peppermint. he handles the seatbelt carefully, clicking it in beside her hip. “i coulda gotten it.” she mumbles, shifting in her seat as harry adjusted back into his own. “do you really need my help?” she asks genuinely, but also wanting dispel the heat rising in her chest from how close he was.

he juts out his bottom lip, almost as if he was thinking about it. (he wasn’t). he slowly shakes his head into a nod, casting a sideways glance at her. “absolutely.”

the trans am glides along the coastal highway leading to their hotel, the rhythmic hum of the engine blending in with the distant crash of the waves. miami, in all of its chaotic beauty, stretched out before them - a city on fire, burning with neon lights and the darker flames of a burgeoning drug trade.

y/n keeps her eyes on the road, the wheel steady in her grip while her mind spins. harry is an easygoing man, sure, but his nonchalance over it all felt a bit unsettling. there’s a nagging feeling within her, a sense that there’s more to this than meets the eye. she didn’t consider herself to be type A, but protocols existed for a reason - especially for law enforcement. nevertheless, she was new to the team, and didn’t want to press into things she may not understand.

“y’did good today.” he admits, lounged comfortably in the seat. his arm casually rested on the door, his legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed.

y/n glanced at him, then back at the road. “just takin’ notes for press. that’s all.”

harry chuckled, the sound light and easy. “y’sure do, sugar. but it’s necessary - if those guys were up there, they wouldn’t know their ass from their elbows.”

she didn’t reply right away, trying to stifle her smile. his accent wasn’t thick, but it was obvious he’s from the south. “how’d y’know it was 80?” she asked, trying to move the attention away from her, and back onto him.

he shrugged, shifting the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “been doin’ this for a while. estimatin’ gets easier.”

she hums, her brows knit together. “and the four bricks are getting tested?”

she earns another chuckle from him, harry adjusting in his seat as he looks toward the pretty girl in his drivers seat. she was smart, and he started to pick up on her stubbornness. “yeah, darlin’. it’ll get analyzed, nothin’ to lose sleep over.”

but she was already mulling it over, something gnawing at her. perhaps if the product was treated like evidence she wouldn’t think twice, maybe if harry didn’t share whispered exchanges with his partner she wouldn’t have noticed. but, she swallowed hard - pushing the thoughts behind her. what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

“y’need to loosen up.” harry grins, pulling her from her thoughts. “know what i’m doin’, trust that, at least.”

she sighed, nodding along with his words. he was right, he was her superior after all. her demeanor was disrespectful, and if she acted this way at the home-unit she would’ve already been chewed out. she exhales softly, cheeks puffed out as she did so.

y/n pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, the city lights polluting the sky above them as it fell into dusk. there were few parking spaces, everything occupied by either agents or tourists. the doors to the lobby were propped open, allowing the breeze to sweep through. a few men sat at the hotel bar, and a couple in dainty florals swayed - no music playing. harry walked in front of y/n, flicking the toothpick into a nearby trashcan. the lobby smelt of cigarettes and a citrus candle as they approach the elevator, a comfortable silence between the two.

“y’okay workin’ in my hotel room? or do you want something’ more public?” he asks genuinely, taking the keys from yn and sifting through them to find the hotel key.

“yours is fine.” she mumbles, not really caring. harry didn’t come off as a creep, albeit a little mysterious. but she didn’t feel unsafe with him. so, she follows him into the room, the door closing softly behind her. the agent tosses his keys onto the bed, setting his hat to dangle off the closet handle. he raises his hand to gesture toward a desk tucked into the corner of the small room, reaching into the tiny fridge below him.

y/n complies, taking a seat onto the grey rolling chair after taking out her notepad and pen. harry hums a tune unbeknownst to y/n, ambling over to desk and setting down two mini bottles of liquor. harry still doesn’t say anything, stepping off to grab an uncomfortable looking wooden chair to sit beside her. a larger notebook already sat in the corner of the desk, accompanied by two different books, a pen, and a few files.

she does the favor of slipping the notebook toward him, along with his black pen before she opens her own notepad, reading over her information.

harry flips open the book, landing on a blank page. he effortlessly writes out the beginning part of the report, elaborating on the tip they received, jotting down the execution of the bust. she watches intently, his words neat and small. she shifts in her seat, clearing her throat to grab his attention. “remember to put down how many agents we had on the ground.” she pauses, her eyes meeting his as he glances toward her. “and um.. who was there, and did what.” she trails off, noting the smile playing upon his lips.

“file cabinet brain.” he murmurs, chuckling to himself before he averts his attention back to the paper, continuing to write. “let me see y’notes.”

she slides over her notepad, harry not breaking eye contact from his pen and paper as she does so. she watches the man before her, curls falling in front of his eyes and the muscles in his forearm flexing with every word he wrote. a small chuckle escapes his lips, letting his pen fall onto the paper as he leans back into his seat. “a fuckin’ fish.”

her eyebrows furrow, his expression shifting from concentration to amusement. “a fish.” yn says back, harry grinning.

“i love it.” he laughs, shaking his head. “never a dull moment.”

her lips curl upward, a breathy laugh emitting from her. she shakes her head, fidgeting with the red pen between her fingers. “why a fish do y’think?”

he shrugged, his smile still present. “desperation and innovation go hand in hand, darlin.” he mumbles, a hint of mischief in his gaze. he shakes his head from his own thoughts, leaning forward again to continue the report.

the night wore on, exchange of details between the two. occasional laughter fell from them, recounting the events from today. it was unusual, and a drug stuffed fish was a first for harry. y/n often stole glances at the man beside her, he was pretty, undeniably so. harry could feel her gaze, too, but didn’t mind it. her eyes on him felt good, a warmth settling in his chest. it was no question that she was beautiful, arguably the prettiest woman in their unit. and it was exactly that, that grounded him. the bureau, an agent. she wasn’t just a pretty face, she was a colleague. not only that, but his subordinate. he remained silent as he printed his name on the final page of the report, turning it toward y/n to allow her to do the same.

“and it’s only 11.” he sighs with a smile, carefully taking out the pages from the notebook and setting them into a manila folder. he slouches into his seat, taking the small liquor bottle and twisting off the cap, throwing it aside. he shoots her an expectant glance, which prompts her to do the same with the other bottle - and they both swallow it bitterly.

y/n’s face twists, placing the bottle back onto the table and shaking her head. she wasn’t use to drinking without a chaser, and although she tried to remain stoic in front of her boss - the taste simply prevented her from doing so. harry laughs, letting his head lean back against the chair with a smile. “can’t hold your alcohol?” he hums.

“i tried to keep a straight face, at least.”

he shifts with a smile, sitting up and letting his arms cross over his chest. “that you did, sugar.”

light laughter lingered in the air, filling the small room with an unfamiliar warmth. y/n tried to shake off her slight embarrassment from her previous whiskey induced face scrunch, forcing a half-smile. “i can handle alcohol.” she insisted, sounding a bit more defensive than she wanted. “just been a while.”

harry raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “coulda fooled me, honeybee. that was quite the scene.” he chuckled, leaning farther into his chair. “no shame in admitting it.”

she grins, the lightness in the moment contrasting the tension in her chest. “alcohol isn’t my forte.” she shrugs. “besides, i’m working anyway.”

“work hard, play harder.” he smiles, a glimmer of something in his eyes that made her shift in her seat. the more time she spent with harry on this job, she became more aware of the unspoken boundaries between them that almost seemed like they could burst if you squint hard enough. harry was her superior, a flamboyant force of nature, while she was still figuring out her place in the world. working alongside him felt like it could be intoxicating, but y/n felt the weight of her reservations.

silence befalls them once again, and before she could speak, a knock echos from outside harry’s door. he perks up, crossing the short distance and pulling it open, revealing an exasperated niall. he pushes past his tall frame, not acknowledging yn as harry shuts the door behind him, confusion settling upon his features. niall’s back is turned toward y/n, the man mumbling something unintelligible as harry flickers his eyes between the two before him. his face hardens, gaze stuck on yn before he parts his lips. “i’ll see you in the mornin.” he dismisses, nodding toward y/n.

she’s taken aback, but shifts to stand up. she bites the inside of her lip, picking up her pen and notepad before warily looking back up at harry. his expression didn’t falter, eyes trailing her frame as she slips out the hotel room with a small frown. she lets the door click shut behind her, the conversation between the two men muffled and fading into the background. with a sigh, she headed toward the elevator to go up to her own floor, the unsettling thought that abrupt meeting between harry and niall was somehow connected to the four bricks of stolen drugs gnawing at her. each step felt heavier than the last as the weight of the situation settled in, leaving her with an uneasy sense of curiosity and concern.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles fan #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles one shot #cop!harry #harry edward styles

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simp4pedropascal75 · 1 year ago

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Secretary (Javier Peña x Reader)

summary: You graduated from university with dreams of becoming a DEA agent. One year before your graduation, a class trip took you to Colombia, where you met Javier Peña. The two of you quickly bonded over the six months you spent together, but after you left, he grew distant. When you return as a freshly minted DEA agent, you discover that you have not been hired as a DEA agent, but as a secretary.

words: 5.2k

this ff takes place in the late 1980s! (but you still can chat with him? yeah, doesn't make sense)

trigger warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, age gap(reader in her 20s, Javier in his late 30s), explict language, mentioning of s3x in public, fluff, violence, smoking, being catcalled and harrased by a man, a little bit of angst (?), spoilers of narcos season 1 (?), one mention of y/n

a/n: sorry for taking a while for writing a new ff, but i thank you for over 500 likes on bad guy and also thank you so much for over 108 followers<3 this really keeps me motivated to write.

I also apologize if I mess up the plot of narcos and don't get everything right like it is in the series. English is not my first language and I'm not finished with the series yet. I just finished season 2 episode 3, and lord have mercy with this sex scene of pedro.

But please don't spoiler me in the comments what happens next in the series, thanks<3

And I guess I'll be making a little series out of this, when my creativity is working, what do you think?

i wish you a fun time reading:)

-------------------♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡--------------------

You are finally getting your mark on your uniform from your teacher. You stand there with a proud smile, looking into the crowd and seeing your parents.

You finally graduated from university to be a DEA agent.

Since you were a kid, your dream was always being a DEA agent, just like your dad. Your dad was stationed in Colombia, that’s why you didn’t see him that much, but when you came visiting him or he came home to Miami, he told you about his stories. He told you how he chased drug traffickers, went on missions and all the other stuff. As a kid, it just amazed you.

That’s why you began to train early for being an DEA agent. Since you were 5, you started solving riddles, like: ‘who stole grandma’s cat?’ and so on. When you got older, you loved solving murder, drug cases or already solved cases from your dad, which you had to solve again.

And it was pretty fun… and to be honest, you were god damn good.

That’s why after you finished high school with 19 years, you went to a DEA university. You were lying, if you're saying it wasn’t pretty hard… sometimes, when you were on your lowest, you even thought about quitting. But even if it was difficult, you didn’t want to throw away your dream, so, you kept going.

One year before your graduation, you went to Colombia with your class. You stayed there 6 months and of course your lessons continued there.

You visited the station where your dad was working and that was also the time where the hunt of Pablo Escobar started. And also, the time… well, where you met Javier Peña.

Every Sunday, you and your class were allowed to go to the station and were shown around, got told some stories and some tips how life works as a DEA agent. It was pretty interesting…

and who really made it interesting was Javi.

You and Javier got pretty close for the whole six months. You got friends… well maybe a little more than that…

Of course, you also met his partner Steve Murphy and you got along also, but just as friends.

You didn’t remember exactly how everything with Javier started, but in the first weeks you were going to the station, you and Javi always talked and you two just got along well. Sometimes he would steal you from the rest of the group to show you some more private folders, because he knew how interested you were in all of this… and also, to make out with you.

But expect of how good he kisses… or fucks.

He was there when you needed him.

Unfortunately, in the last month, your dad got injured when he was on a mission with Javier and Steve. Your dad got shot bad in a shooting and when you got the news, Javi was there to comfort you. Luckily, your dad did survive, but he was left incapable of working ever again.

Also, you didn’t ever know, what you and Javier really are. You know, he slept with a lot of women, mostly to gain information for work, but he also stopped sleeping with other women, for the whole six months when he was with you,

well, that’s what Steve told you.

But he never actually asked you if you would be his girlfriend or something… but neither did you.

One time when he showed your class around, the topic was the balance between work and personal life. He told everyone that he personally doesn’t do ‘relationships’ because of work and he isn’t interested in it, he finds it more exciting to get to know many women. And that’s what probably kept you from asking him because you were scared to get rejected.

Of course, you fell in love with him, but you thought he didn’t.

Also, your dad doesn’t know anything about what you and Javier had… and if he would have found out, he would probably fire Javier. Since his incident he was very protective over you and worried about you getting a DEA agent like him.

But nothing got in your way again, even if you were really not feeling great because Javi and you barley had contact after you left.

You kept going.

And now you're finally standing on the stage, proud with your mark on your uniform and even graduated as the class best.

At the evening you begin packing your suitcase for the flight to Colombia. You planned since the beginning of your studies, to go back to Colombia and work at the same station your dad did. You feel excited of the thought that your dream is finally going true. Also… how will it be meeting Javi again?

You sigh at the thought and suddenly your phone vibrates. You grab it and look on the display.

Javi

‘heard you graduated, congratulations, hermosa.

Your heart skips as he writes you that and you don’t notice how red your cheeks get. He didn’t write you often, nearly never, but when he did, he continued calling you hermosa, cariño,… and all the other names he had for you.

you

thanks, agent. maybe I’ll be your boss soon.

Javi

you wish. your dad told me to pick you up at the airport tomorrow.

You start to get a nervous feeling in your chest, but also can’t help to smile.

you

okay, looking forward for tomorrow then, agent.

Javi

see you tomorrow, cariño.

You throw your phone on your bed and lay down next to it. You can’t keep down your butterflies in your stomach. The thought of seeing him again after one year has you smiling, but also getting you even more nervous.

What should I say when he picks me up?

Should you hug him? What if he kisses me?!

God, I really need to know what to talk about, I hate awkward silence.

You think and start panicking. You groan in frustration into your pillow. You grab after your phone and scroll through your chats with Javi.

Your smile fades as you see your calls he didn’t pick up, how he responded to some messages from you after literally one month. Sometimes he didn’t even respond. You know, he has really much work to do and doesn’t have it easy… but seeing how he barley contacted you, makes you feel disappointed… you really thought he would like you back…

Maybe I have to high expectations, you think.

Maybe he doesn’t care so much about that, but you do. You gave him your trust in so many ways…

And with that thought, you get up with a sigh and look frustrated at your closet. You watch at some of your bikinis. “yeah, I think I’m going to take this one”, you mumble to yourself with a smirk, taking the string bikini in his favourite colour.

…

You walk towards the exit with your two suitcases and back bag. As you step out of the airport, you take in the warm, tropical breezes. You feel the air brushing across your skin and hair. The sun’s rays are warm and comforting as they peek through the clouds. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, taking a moment for yourself that you’re finally reaching your dream.

“bienvenido a casa, hermosa.”, you hear a very familiar voice saying and you wince.

“goddammit- you scared the shit out of me”, you say out of breath and then take a moment to look at him. He’s leaned against the car, with a cigarette between his fingers. Your feelings are going insane again. He’s still the same, just like when you left. But… he got a little more muscular.

“really? that’s how you act when we see each other after this long time?”, he chuckles and raises an eyebrow.

“shut up”, you mumble as you roll your eyes and walk towards him. You don’t think about it and just wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into a hug. You hug him tightly and you don’t know why, but your eyes start to get wet. Smelling his scent again of cigarettes, leather and musk… it’s addicting.

As you feel how he pulls you closer by wrapping his hands around your waist, your heart skips.

“missed me?”, he whispers and you sense his smirk. “maybe.”, you answer and even if you don’t want to, you end the hug and go some steps back to take your suitcases.

As you feel a wet drop rolling down your cheek, you immediately wipe the tear away and pull yourself together to give him a happy smile. “would you mind helping me with these?”, you point out your baggage.

Javi chuckles as he takes the last drag out of his cigarette until he throws it away and takes two of your suitcases, putting it into the trunk. “god woman-, how many clothes have you in these?”, he gasps and closes it.

“‘need something to dress, you know”, you chuckle and roll your eyes while going into the car. You expected him to say something like: “around me you won’t have to wear many clothes”, but… obviously he holds himself back.

You take a seat next to him and he starts the engine, drinking away from the parking lot. You roll down the window to let the warm breeze of Colombia fly against you. As you were driving through the city, you couldn’t help but just stare out of the window. “feels good to be here again”, you mumble and notice how much you missed this.

You expected him to say something like: “feels good to have you near me again”, but no… nothing.

After a while you finally hear his voice again. “class’s best huh?”, he chuckles and you roll your eyes. “yeah. my dad told you?, you ask and see him nod. “yeah”

“How’s the situation with Pablo? I watched the news, but they don’t tell much and you never know if they’re telling real shit.”, you ask while looking at all the buildings. You see kids play soccer outside and smile. “He’s a fucking pain in the ass, that’s what I can tell you”, Javier mumbles while concentrating on the road.

“You know, we’ll be working together now, you can tell me?”, you point out and raise your eyebrows.

“Let me say, the situation got worse. It’s true that he killed all these people by blowing up an airplane”, he answers and you gulp when you hear that. “There’s a fuckin’ war right in Colombia.”, he adds.

You see that he’s tense because of this topic. As you take a closer look at his face, you also notice he didn’t get proper sleep for like a whole month. “And… you’re fine?”, you mumble concerned.

“I’m fine, hermosa. Nothing to worry about.”, he answers and drives in the streets of Medellin. You remember now where you are. You see the streets you and your class walked down. You also remember that you will soon drive past an ice cream truck… and memories pop up in your mind.

…

Javier kidnapped you from a trip with your class through the streets of Medellin, again. You were walking down the road, he was right behind you and constantly staring at your ass, because you wore a shorts.

How couldn’t you? It was like 40 degrees in the middle of the day.

A heat wave was surrounding you and the sun was shining right into your face. “you’re not very unobtrusive when it comes to staring, you know.”, you smirk and take a quick look behind you.

“maybe I don’t want to be unobtrusive…”, he says while taking a drag from his cigarette. You roll your eyes at him. You just continue walking and hear a chuckle behind you as you rolled your eyes.

As you keep walking, you spot an ice cream truck. “You know, I really need to cool down now.”, you say and with that you just cross the street, walking towards the ice cream truck. “ice cream, really?”, you hear Javi saying behind you. “You want one too?”, you ask but he shakes his head to no in response.

“Hola señor, me gustaría una cucharada de vainilla y fresa en la oblea, por favor.”, you order in Spanish. You smile proud as the man in the truck understands you and gives you a smile. “Impressing.”, you hear Javier whispering right behind you what makes you laugh. Your Spanish wasn’t actually that bad, when you came to Colombia as a kid to visit your dad, you heard this language all around you. And in school you also had some Spanish lessons.

The man hands you over the ice cream and you hand him the money instead. “Gracias”, you say with a kind smile and then go on the crosswalk again. You and Peña walked to a shady spot, to give you two a break from the burning sun.

You start licking your ice cream from the bottom to the top. And, he was watching you.

He sees how you take long stripes of the ice cream, sometimes licking just the tip. Because of the hot Colombian sun, the ice cream begins to melt quickly.

Drops of ice cream land on your hot, light sweated neck, your thighs and your chin. Then, also on your tank top. “Fuck…,” you mumble and don’t notice how hard you’re making it for Javier. You take your finger, wipe the ice cream away and lick it off your finger.

“goddammit, y/n.”, you hear him cuss quietly, you look at him and notice the bulge on his jeans. “Ops.”, you say innocently and chuckle. You just continue licking your ice cream while looking directly into his eyes. You love teasing him… and always know where it leads you too.

It doesn’t take long to Javier grab your arm and drag you into a small alley. You let your ice cream fall, because of him. “Javi! My ice cream!”, you say literally heart broken like a kid and pout.

Suddenly you feel his tongue licking up the ice cream, which landed on your neck. “Javi, what are you-“, he cuts you off by smashing his lips onto yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting the flavour of your ice cream.

Some minutes later, you find yourself being fucked from behind and pressed against the cold wall.

…

You don’t notice you’re pressing your tights together, but he does. “How about we get some ice cream? I really want to have ice cream now”, you ask with a slight smile on your face. You wanted to see if he remembered, if his body still responses to the memories of you.

And… it does.

He hesitates and wants to disagree. “Please...”, you beg and you know one thing, he can’t resist your begging… well, not for a long time.

You hear him let out a loud sigh, before whispering a quiet: “okay”.

Yup, still works, you think.

He pulls over and parks right next to the ice cream truck. And it’s really the same as one year ago.

You get out of the car and order yourself an ice cream, you feel him looking at you while you’re waiting. After you finally got your ice cream, you come back in the car and buckle up. You took the same flavours as last time. You take a long stripe of the ice cream and let out a soft satisfying moan.

God, how you missed this.

You hear Javier starting the engine quite impulsive and you can’t help but chuckle.

“So, where we’re going?”, you ask while licking your ice cream. “I’ll let you out at your dads old apartment. You can get yourself comfortable there and unpack your suitcases until I pick you up to drive to the station.”, he says tense but focussed on the road. You let out a cute short “okay” and just continued looking out of the window.

After thirty minutes, you arrive at the building where your dad’s old apartment was. You get out of the car and Javier opens the trunk, taking out your suitcases. As you wanted to take the suitcases, Javier has them already in his grip and getting them up the stairs.

“such a gentleman”, you tease and he opens the door of your building. “just get your ass up these stairs”, he says while rolling his eyes and you laugh.

As you two walked up some stairs, you finally arrived at your apartment. He gets out the keys your dad left for you and locks up the door. You walk through the door and immediately look around while Javier is getting your baggage inside. “It’s cute”, you say and walk to the front door, where he’s standing.

“There you go, cariño.”, he hands you over the keys, “‘gonna pick you up at 4, okay?”, you nod in response. “Thanks”, you say to him with a smile before he closes the door and you see him driving away.

You sigh and everything still feels pretty unrealistic. You go on your small balcony, feeling the hot sun burning in your skin. “I’m back, Colombia.”

You started unpacking your suitcase and made yourself comfortable. You took a shower, put a little make up on to cover the rings under your eyes and got yourself a dress. You’re wearing a white tank top with a shorts, since it’s still very hot outside. “I really need to go grocery shopping...”, you mumble when you’re looking in the empty fridge. You grab an apple out your bag pack and take a bite.

You look at the clock and it’s already 4 o’clock. You grab your cardigan, in case it gets colder in the evening and walk down the stairs, going out on the street and looking around for Javier. It doesn’t take long until you see a black Jeep Cherokee driving down the street.

Yeah, that’s him.

He pulls over and is leaned out of the window with a cigarette in his fingers. He’s wearing the same as in the morning, but now with yellow toned sunglasses.

God, he looks fucking hot.

“Ready?”, he asks while taking a drag of his cigarette. “always”, you reply with a smirk and get in the car. As he starts driving, you feel the excitement building up in you. The thought of you finally working and getting your place in a DEA station, makes your heart jump from happinesses. You worked your whole life for this.

You don’t live far away from the station and as Javier was parking, you saw Steve waiting outside. A big smile comes across your face. You two get out of the car and we’re walking towards the entrance.

“Hello, newbie”, Steve chuckles as he pulls you into a hug. “Shut up”, you roll your eyes and hug him back. “good to see you again”, he says as he lets go of you and you give him a smile. “good to see you too”, you reply and suddenly the door opens and Colonel Carrillo comes out.

You’ve seen him not often, just sometimes when your dad talked with him. “Buenos días, señorita Álvarez”, he says and offers his hand for a handshake. You give him a smile. “Colonel Carrillo.”, you nod and shake his hand, as Javi and Steve greet him too. ”also congratulations for graduating”, he says kind but with a stern face. “Follow me”, he says and walks into the station with you three following.

You squeak quietly because of excitement and your heart beats out of your chest. You walk through the hallway, and already seeing the office of the DEA agent, but instead of walking further, Carrillo opens the door to the secretary’s office.

“There you go”, he says and you just stand there confused. But not only you’re confused, you also feel Javier and Steve’s confusing look. “Um… that’s the secretary’s office”, you mumble and Carrillo nods. “Yeah.”, he says confidently. “I’m a DEA agent, sir.”, you point out, still completely confused.

“Oh, your father didn’t told you yet?”, you shake your head to no. “Your dad wanted you to watch first, to get some feeling for the job before working completely as a DEA agent. Also, the case with Pablo Escobar is kind of heavy.”, Carrillo continues explaining and you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“What.”, you gasp slightly and feeling complete anger flowing through your whole body.

“‘being your boss soon’, huh?”, you hear Javi quoting your message with a chuckle. You find that anything but funny. “Shut the fuck up.”, you growl to him, and then force a smile to Carrillo.

“If you would excuse me for a minute, sir.”, you mumble tensely and get out of the office, walking out of the station and calling your dad. Murphy and Peña follow you outside, watching you walk up and down while holding your cellphone to your ear.

“poor girl.”, Steve sighs while leaning against the wall. “guess daddy is pretty scared for her”, he adds and Javi sighs while lighting up a cigarette, handing the lighter to Steve. “I mean, she isn’t bad… I think she would be a good help for us.”, Javi says while taking a drag of his cigarette while they watch you literally yell into your cellphone.

“Dad what the actual fuck?! You know how hard I worked for becoming an agent, and now you’re hiring me as the fucking secretary?”, you yell upset. “You’re not even working as the Colonel with Carrillo anymore, how can you still decide something like that!?”

“I wouldn’t want to get into an argument with her, that’s clear..”, Steve mumbles as he’s taking a drag of his cigarette too and looks over to Javi, who’s just watching you.

“You’re planning to fuck with her again?”, he asks and laughs slightly. “Shut up, Murphy”, Javi mumbles. “No I mean seriously… I know you like her, man”, Steve says while you’re still yelling into your phone, shortly before throwing it on the street.

“‘dunno… I didn’t reply to her calls, or texts often after she left…”, Javi sighs.

“Wow.”, Steve gasps as he finishes smoking. “You really are an asshole”, Steve points out and claps on his shoulder.

“but seriously, she likes you, Peña. Make it up to her ”, he says seriously while you’re on the edge to destroy your phone. “You really need a woman in your life, man”.

“Dad, I’m fucking 26! I can take care of myself”, they hear and see you scream.

Javi starts thinking about Steve words and finishes his cigarette too.

“she’s not gonna throw her phone, is she?”, Steve asks while raising his eyebrows as he keeps watching you how literally go rage. “If you think that, you don’t know her enough”, Javi just answers and one second later, you hang up and throw your cellphone directly throw it on the ground.

Steve just stays there in shock. “Told you”, Javi chuckles. As Steve sees how you walk towards them, he immediately makes his way into the station again. “‘need to do some paperwork”, he excuses and Javi rolls his eyes at him.

You take a deep breath and walk to Javi. “Well unfortunately my dad thinks I’m incapable of taking care and defending myself, even if I trained my whole fucking life for this.”, you complain and run your hand through your hair.

“'guess being class best and graduating after such a long time, isn’t enough.”, you sigh and try to calm down. Javi just keeps looking at you.

“I’ll talk to him”, he suddenly says and you look at him. “what? with my dad? that won’t help”, you scoff. “No, I mean with Colonel Carrillo. "I have a good rapport with him.”, he tells you and puts his hand into his pockets.

“If it doesn’t help, you can come over to us in secret, going through some folders and stuff”, he suggests and you nod slowly. “yeah…”, you just sigh. “thanks.. “, you add, turn around and take your phone with a pretty broken display from the ground.

“Would you mind driving me to the grocery store? I don’t have my car yet”, you ask after some minutes of silence. He takes a look at his watch. “Well, I have thirty minutes until my shift begins, if you do it quick, then I can drive y-”, he replies while still leaning against the wall. “good, thanks.”, you cut him off and make your way to his car.

…

You're leaned on the card and walk through the market. Your cart is already half full and you’re soon finished. Javi was walking behind you and the whole time his eyes were fixed on your ass, you could feel it.

And that’s why you couldn’t stop smirking. “Stop smirking so much, you’ll get wrinkles”, he chuckles and you make your way towards the checkout. “says the man who’s soon in his 40s”, you tease him back and he laughs.

How much you love his laugh…

When you walk to his car with him carrying your two full grocery bags, he takes a look at his watch again and you hear him cuss in Spanish. “I’m already ten minutes late..”, Javier hisses.

“Oh, I’ll walk the rest. My apartment is not far from here and I have to get my cellphone repaired anyway.”, you say, wanting to take the bags from his hands. “I won’t let you walk home alone on these streets, especially if it’s getting dark.”, he says serious, not handing you over the bags. “I can defend myself, it’s fine. Go to work”, you mumble more seriously and grab your bags, ripping them out of his grip.

“When something happens to you-“, you cut him off. “Go to work”, you shout and make your way on the other side of the street.

You hear him cuss in Spanish behind you and just chuckle. You changed in many ways after one year, but one thing always stayed the same.

Your obstinacy, confidence and trust in your skills.

“maybe if you hadn’t been busy with staring at my ass, you would’ve checked the time earlier.”, you shout with a cheeky smile to him as he goes into his car. You chuckle and hear him drive away.

You know when the whole case about Pablo Escobar wasn’t so serious, you know he would’ve driven you home, but unfortunately it was.

It was getting dark and you made your way to a electronic shop. After you talked with the man behind the counter, he told you, you can pick up your phone tomorrow.

When you got out of the store, it was dark outside and got kinda cold. You wanted to put on your cardigan, but notice that you forgot it in Javier’s car. “fuck..”, you mumble and continue walking with your grocery bags.

A group of men were walking next to you on the other side of the street, beginning to catcall you. You start to feel uncomfortable and walk a little quicker, ignoring them. They were continuing catcalling you, and being a woman, alone on a street while it’s fucking dark, is kind of scary.

But that’s life as a woman, I guess…, you think

But you pull yourself together and remind yourself of your confidence, knowing you would knock the fuck out of them. You were five minutes away from your apartment, but suddenly one of the men decided to switch sidewalks and walk to you.

“Buenas noches, hermosa. ¿Buscas alojamiento?”, he asks while walking next to you.

Someone else calling you hermosa, who’s not Javier, gives you the shivers.

Your Spanish wasn’t perfect, but you think he asked you if you have a place to sleep tonight or something.

You continued ignoring him, and he continues speaking to you, but now you didn’t understand shit… and to be honest, you didn’t want to understand it.

You could sense and smell he’s drunk. “Vete a la mierda”, you tell him to fuck off.

Suddenly he grabs your arm, and that was it. You let fall your grocery bags, grab his hand and kick him right into his balls. He couldn’t react fast enough because of the alcohol, so you also kicked him with your knee right into his face.

You hear a car coming nearer, but ignore it. As the guy lies on the ground, you punch him right in his face. You hear his mates being shocked. “You want too? Come here then!”, you shout challenging, but they didn’t thought twice and ran away.

You just scoff as you see them walking away and bending down to grab to pick up your groceries.

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your back. “Cariño, are you o-“, before your brain can process and recognise that it’s Javier’s voice, you punch him directly into his face. You hear him groan in pain and as you look up, you see his car. “Omg- I’m so sorry-“, you panic and take his hand into your face, looking at his bleeding nose. You take out a tissue of your shorts and hold it against his nose.

“I thought it was someone of these men-“, he cuts you off and takes the tissue himself. “You got a hell of a punch, you know that”, he says while holding the tissue at his nose.

A part of your brain starts thinking, he deserves it. For ignoring you for so long. You start to form s slight smirk on your lips, but then throw the thought away.

“What a secretary I am, huh?”, you chuckle and pick up your groceries. He stuffed the tissue into his nose and then helps you, getting all your groceries together and then lifting up your grocery bags.

“Don’t you have to work?”, you ask him confused because it was just 20 minutes ago when he left. “‘told Carrillo I forgot a folder at home, I can’t let a beautiful woman like you, walk home alone.”, he says while going to his car. “but I have to say, you handled the situation pretty well, he’s completely knocked out.”, he smirks and gets the grocery bags in his car.

As he called you beautiful, you blush slightly and take a seat in his car. “‘didn’t train for nothing, you know”, you giggle while he starts the engine and drives you home.

As you arrive after literally 2 minutes, you take your cardigan and get out of the car. “thank you for still looking for me”, you mumble and put the cardigan on.

“no problem… but I kind of deserved this punch, didn’t I?”, he sighs while you take your grocery bags.

Now you can’t hide your dirty smirk anymore.

“Yeah, you kind of did”, you answer and close his car door.

“‘wish you a good shift then, be careful”, you give him a smile and then walk to the building, getting out your keys. “see you tomorrow, hermosa”, he calls after you and as you walk through the door, you hear him drive off.

...

The next morning you finally got your car and could drive alone. Even if you enjoyed Javier’s as your driver. You get to the DEA station and walk to your office…

You see a sign with your name on your desk, and under it is written: secretary.

Yup, still hate that, you think and let out a loud sigh.

You take a seat on your chair and lean back. After a while some woman comes in and gives you some paperwork, and also a folder that you can catch up with everything. Even if the thought, that you normally could work in the DEA office to take down some of Pablo’s guys, makes you angry, you need to live with it for a while now. And then, you get started…

After some hours you hear a knock on your door. “Come in”, you say loud and as you look up who it is, you roll your eyes. “Agent Peña”, you call him while having the folder in the hand.

“‘The previous secretary was fired because being caught flirting, kissing and sleeping with one of the agents’”, you read out loud and then look up at him. “And who might that be huh?”, you ask serious while raising an eyebrow at him, knowing exactly who it probably was.

“Even if you won’t believe me now, it wasn’t me”, he answers and places a coffee on your desk. You raise your eyebrows at him. And he was right, you didn’t believe him.

But, why should you care? You’re not together or anything… but the thought of him fucking another women, makes you jealous… and kinda sad.

“you’re fucking all your secretaries now, Agent Peña?”, you ask cheeky while being leaned back in your chair. He just chuckles while shaking his head and places his hands on your desk, leaning against it.

“No, just you.”, he answers and you choke on your coffee because you took a sip.

“We’re definitely not fucking and I’m not your secretary.”, you say serious to make a point.

He takes a cigarette from his ear into his fingers and puts it between his lips, while making his way out of your office.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that in some weeks.”

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softpascalito · 11 months ago

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Presents - Pedro Pascal Characters Headcanons

Summary: Which presents do the Pedro boys give you for Christmas? I have some ideas.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader, Javier Peña x Reader, Dieter Bravo x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader Tags/Warnings: Non-explicit smut, Fluff, Headcanons

notes: some more headcanons for you darlings <3

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Joel Miller

Joel is actually surprisingly good at giving presents. He'll pay extra attention to what you're saying or what you may need in the weeks before Christmas.

During patrol, he keeps an eye out for your favorite foods and products, storing them away into his backpack to add them to the ever-growing list of presents for you.

He prefers giving to getting, even though he's always more than thankful when it comes to his own presents. But nothing beats the look his loved ones get in their eyes when they unwrap a present from him and it's just the perfect one, showing just how well Joel knows them.

Come Christmas Eve, there's at least half a dozen small packages waiting under the Christmas Tree for you. Joel loves to spoil you.

He gets creative as well, making use of his woodworking skill to add a few more personal gifts to the pile, carving you small figurines of your favorite animals.

Javier Peña

Javi gets lost at least three times while he visits the mall to go Christmas shopping. He does not like the over-crowded stores at all but he knows he needs to find something that let's you know just how much you mean to him.

When asked about his own wishes for Christmas, he only asked for a pack of Malboros (needless to say, he gets a few packs AND a proper present).

He's about to pick out a frangrance that seems like you'd like it when he runs into Connie. She instantly sees that he looks like a fucking lost puppy in between all the products and options and takes pity.

She helps him pick out a few things you'll actually like and even reminds him to grab some wrapping paper. She also promises to not tell you about her helping out a little bit.

You're blown away by the gifts he picked for you, trying not to show how surprised you are he actually knew what to pick.

At the DEA's Christmas Party, you run into Connie. She just winks when you ask her if she'd been helping Javi. You both never tell him.

Dieter Bravo

Dieter thinks about whether or not to get you drugs (he doesn't).

He loves giving gifts that he knows will benefit him as much as they do you- something for your shared apartment or something for you to wear.

There's a cozy sweater and a hat from your favorite brand under the Christmas Tree, but there is also some more ... naughty clothing.

You like dressing up a little for Dieter, teasing him more than once throughout Christmas-time by suggesting to get one of those little red and white outfits that would perfectly highlight your figure.

He gets you a few, unable to decide on just one when he begins to imagine how good you'd look in them.

Dieter and you both name the white lace one as your favorite, detailed with little, glittering snowflakes all over the fabric.

Needless to say, the rest of the presents dont get unwrapped until the second day of Christmas.

Din Djarin

Din is absolutely lost when it comes to presents. The two of you are inseperable, which doesn't really make secretly buying something easier.

The opportunity presents itself when you decide to shop for some new clothes and he gets a little while to himself.

A Mandalorian wandering around the aroma and lotion shop turns heads but Din can't bring himself to care. He tries a few items, holding them below his helmet so that he can take a whiff.

He settles on a set of lotions and creams that smell refreshing, a note of pine in them. You always prefer the wooded planets to the desert ones so he hopes that it's a safe pick.

You love it more than he expects - and he does too. For the next few weeks, his entire ship seems to smell like the store did, fresh and gentle, and you seem surrounded by the scents he got you. It begins to smell like home.

He insists, as soon as you have used the bottles up, to go back and get you new ones, stocking up on the lotions and soaps and oils. If you ever leave, he tells himself, he'll at least remember the smell.

(You never leave).

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realjdobypr · 9 months ago

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Behind the Scenes: Insights into the Entertainment Industry

The entertainment industry is a wild ride, full of unexpected twists and turns! One never quite knows what’s going on from day to day, but for certain, the industry never sleeps. Behind-the-scenes insights play a crucial role in understanding the creative process and industry workings. The Zones offers a unique perspective on the entertainment industry, with an energetic, edgy, and modern…

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blockchainnftgaming · 2 years ago

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PlayMining, the Web3 entertainment platform, launches a new

SINGAPORE, December 7, 2022 (GLOBE NEWSWIRE) — Web3 Entertainment Company Digital entertainment asset (DEA) announced the launch of Lucky Farmer, a new NFT game on PlayMining gaming platform. happy farmer joins the rapidly growing catalog of PlayMining Play-and-Earn (P&E) games that allow players to earn DEAPcoin ($DEP) tokens that can be used to buy NFTs on the PlayMining NFT marketplace or sell…

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#$DEAPcoin #Blockchain #coin pusher #Creative IP #crypto #DEA #DEP #Digital entertainment asset #game fi #happy farmer #NFTs #P&E #P2E #PlayMining #web3

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melliae · 4 months ago

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Assorted Pharos/Ryoji Thoughts

So, huh, don’t expect something too meaningful or conclusive for this. It’s quite literally just me rambling about the possible connections and influences Pharos and Ryoji have as they come. Quite messy, and it may not make much sense…

Phallus and Birds

As I said in my post about Nyx, Pharos’ japanese name (“ファルロス”) isn’t a word that exists. It’s a combination of “ファルス” (“Phallus”) and “ファロス” (“Pharos”, as in the lighthouse of Alexandria). The two of them mark him as the masculine aspect of the Star Eater (i.e., its psyche), while its body remains as the feminine or maternal one.

“In this sense, the concept of matter is also only one archetypal representation among many others; indeed the concept of matter derives from the archetype of the Great Mother. [...] The archetype of the Father, that is, of the mind, is the polar opposite.” - Psyche and Matter, by Marie-Louise von Franz.

This divide is important to make clear, since it harks back to one of the fundamental inspirations mentioned by the FES Fan Book: Jung’s childhood dream about “Father Phallos”. I’m not going to explain it since it’s somewhat long, but the gist is that it acted as one of the foundations of Jung’s work, as seen with Seven Sermons to the Dead:

“Spirituality conceiveth and embraceth. It is womanlike and therefore we call it mater coelestis, the celestial mother. Sexuality engendereth and createth. It is manlike, and therefore we call it phallos, the earthly father.” - Sermo V.

I’m not going into detail about what Jung exactly meant by “womanlike” or “manlike” beyond pointing out it is more akin to the Yin and Yang division, but through western or hermetic lens.

While the parts of sexuality and creativity are better represented by Ryoji for obvious reasons, the identification between Pharos and Father Phallos is still important because it points to the former’s future as the “son” or “avatar” of “Dea Luna Satanas”.

I put Systema Munditotius here again because it’s a graphical summary of the cosmology and psychological principles presented in Seven Sermons, showing how the human mind is a whole that encompasses all dualities. But instead of focusing on the vertical axis this time, I’m going to explain the horizontal one, where we can see:

The Emptiness (the black circle named “Inane”) at the leftmost extreme, whose dissolving and destructive capacities are manifested in the figure of “the Devil”, represented by the waxing moon—the so-called “Dea Luna Satanas” or “Goddess Moon Satan”.

The Fullness (the white circle named “Plenum”) at the rightmost extreme, with its creative capacities manifesting in the golden circle called “Deus Sol”, the Godly Sun.

Now, despite the presence of another Devil-like figure in the series (Nyarlathotep, with the japanese version of Eternal Punishment directly calling him “the archetype that destroys humans egos”), it’s undeniable the connection between Nyx as the moon and, well, the lunar Satan described in the Sermo IV:

“The dark gods form the earth-world. They are simple and infinitely diminishing and declining. The devil is the earth-world’s lowest lord, the moon-spirit, satellite of the earth, smaller, colder, and more dead than the earth.”

And that’s where the other half of the left side enters: the Devil-Moon is the root of everything that’s “physical”, the “visible” and “sensual” spirits of earth (the green circle named “Mater Natura”) that manifest through the sexuality of the Phallos, who lies in the “depths of the earth” according to Jung’s dream—in the unconscious, with the Dark Hour being a symbol of it. That’s to say, Father Phallos and thus Pharos are the result of the countless souls that are attached to earth, of people dead in spirit and alive in bodies—of the Lost, and those who transmogrify each night, and those who have lost all hope.

However, unlike Pharos, the Avatar doesn’t show many “sensual” details, despite the entire Fool’s Journey it/he recited being a perfect metaphor of the earthly/gross side of life (i.e., you are born, you grow, you die); on the contrary, it presents a couple of celestial characteristics. The meaning of these properties lie on the other half of the right hemisphere, in the heavenly sphere that the wise kin of the Sun inhabits, communicating with the receptive nature of the human soul (or Celestial Mother) in the form of a white bird—the Holy Spirit.

“The white bird is a half-celestial soul of man. He bideth with the Mother, from time to time descending. The bird hath a nature like unto man, and is effective thought. He is chaste and solitary, a messenger of the Mother. He flieth high above earth. He commandeth singleness. He bringeth knowledge from the distant ones who went before and are perfected. He beareth our word above to the Mother.” - Sermo VI.

Yet, due to Nyx’s body being a shadowy reflection of the Heavenly Mother, it’s to be expected the Bird too becomes twisted, from a pure white dove into a pitch-black crow. There’s no need to go over all the references to black birds during the game, from Tartarus to Nyx Avatar—the messenger or “angel” of Nyx.

So, on one side we have Death as a Shadow, primitive and all-consuming, and on the other we have Ryoji, a conscious being filled to the brim with love and energy. Pharos is, then, the in-between, the liminal state between consciousness and unconsciousness, a baby that’s trying to break free from the grip of the unconscious’ “womb”, yet joins the “divine” with the mortal.

“The "child" is born out of the womb of the unconscious, begotten out of the depths of human nature, or rather out of living Nature herself. It is a personification of vital forces quite outside the limited range of our conscious mind; of ways and possibilities of which our one-sided conscious mind knows nothing; a wholeness which embraces the very depths of Nature.” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.

Be it from Nyx or the protagonist/Makoto himself, Death/Pharos/Ryoji, from the moment his being was fragmented, sought separation and division, to know where his essence began and ended. He was trying to create himself. That’s the most beneficial manifestation of the Phallos: the birth of a “sun” or (primitive) consciousness through the active energy of the unconscious.

“The psychic life-force, the libido, symbolizes itself in the sun or personifies itself in figures of heroes with solar attributes. At the same time it expresses itself through phallic symbols.” - Symbols of Transformation.

An event comparable to the separation of the waters through the spirit (or “dove”) of God himself, or to the eating of the fruit of knowledge upon the serpent’s goading. That’s to say, a manifestation of the beginning of individuation, the development of the—his—Self out of the unconscious’ waters.

Introversion and Extraversion

Makoto is introverted, and Ryoji extraverted.

…

Okay. That isn’t something new, like, at all. But it’s a good start, since I’m not referring to the popular conception that we have of introversion and extraversion, but to the jungian one, explained in Psychological Types:

“The introvert’s attitude is an abstracting one; at bottom, he is always intent on withdrawing libido from the object, as though he had to prevent the object from gaining power over him. The extravert, on the contrary, has a positive relation to the object. He affirms its importance to such an extent that his subjective attitude is constantly related to and oriented by the object.”

I went into a deeper explanation in my post about Philemon’s and Nyarlathotep’s Types, but the above is the main idea: the introverted individual focuses inwards, in the inner realm of the universal “subjective factor” or unconscious, and the extraverted individual focuses their energy into the external world and its objects, relating to the present. As a compensatory method, the differentiated attitude of consciousness will be opposed by the acquisition of the contrary attitude within the unconscious, giving rise to psychic wholeness and certain peculiarities that, for the moment, aren’t important.

Now, with that out of the way, I want to focus on a particular scene described by the book, about an interpretation about Spitteler’s “Prometheus and Epimetheus”, with Jung concluding that the brothers are representations of introversion and extraversion respectively:

“For just as Prometheus makes all his passion, his whole libido flow inwards to the soul, to his innermost depths, dedicating himself entirely to his soul’s service, so God pursues his course round and round the pivot of the world and exhausts himself exactly like Prometheus, who is near to self-extinction. All his libido has gone into the unconscious, where an equivalent must be prepared; for libido is energy, and energy cannot disappear without a trace, but must always produce an equivalent. This equivalent is Pandora and the gift she brings to her father: a precious jewel which she wants to give to mankind to ease their sufferings.”

Prometheus parted ways with the outer world to focus completely on his soul, the realm of the unconscious and his Anima. Understanding that libido can be symbolized by fire, light and heat, then Prometheus’ actions can be interpreted as he trying to “incubate” the treasure that lies deep within, which is compared in other parts of the book with the dharmic tapas or meditation, and the birth of the Buddha, one of the “three jewels”… The underlying meaning of the scene should be obvious at this point.

“The moon with her antithetical nature is, in a sense, a prototype of individuation, a prefiguration of the self: she is the “mother and spouse of the sun, who carries in the wind and the air the spagyric embryo conceived by the sun in her womb and belly.” This image corresponds to the psychologem of the pregnant anima, whose child is the self, or is marked by the attributes of the hero.” - Mysterium Coniunctionis.

A renewal of the “Sun”, who is no other than Pharos/Ryoji himself. Or do you think the sobriquet of Saturn, the Persona unlocked through his Linked Episodes, is for nothing?

Just like the maternal Nyx holds the golden, cosmic egg inside its body, Makoto “incubates” within him the seed of a new life, enveloping it/him just like the ocean does with all sorts of “primitive” life. This is not surprising considering that introversion is the “feminine” (or “ying”) attitude, and that Makoto was, in fact, described as the “mother” of Pharos in the Club Book (Thanks to elle-p for pointing it out!).

But I think there’s something much more interesting in how Makoto “incubated” Ryoji, because just like the moon, as a symbol of the Anima, carries “the child of the sun”, Prometheus makes his libido flow towards his soul… or Anima. That’s to say, both Makoto and Ryoji, at some level, represent each other’s Anima, the sexual counterimage to consciousness that mediates the collective unconscious.

(While technically a non-canon portrayal of things, I still think it fits here :) After all, we know butterflies represent the souls of individuals in the series)

It’s not a perfect correlation naturally; the soul-image is that of the opposite gender of consciousness, to balance the psyche. But the mirror idea is the basis of their relationship, with Ryoji and the protagonist playing each other’s attitudes. The movies are more explicit with this, and there’s a particular quote I really hold close to my heart:

“綾時は理の対極にいるようなキャラクターです。物静かな理と社交的な綾時は"静と動"の関係であり，彼らの対比第3章の物語に欠かせない視点をもたらしています” - Keitaro Motonaga, Persona 3: Falling Down Pamphlet.

“Ryoji is a character that feels like the opposite of Makoto. The quiet Makoto and the sociable Ryoji have a relationship of ‘stillness and motion’, and their contrast brings about an indispensable perspective in the third chapter of this story.”

The connections are clear: Makoto is an introverted sensor (ISxx), and Ryoji is an extroverted intuitive (ENxx). And if we really break down their character, Makoto is an ISFJ (overall ISFx, with the J/P depending on the particular media) and Ryoji an ENFP, which is pretty damn close to a mirror match! You can compare them with Elizabeth, who is likely an ENTP.

Anyway, what’s more interesting in Ryoji’s Type is how it’s described on Psychological Types, under the “Extraverted Intuitive” section:

Going from “object” to “object” and situation to situation, never satisfied with the current circumstances staying the same.

That applies to people too, how they can go from “adventure” to “adventure” in search of romance.

Thanks to the enthusiasm they hold for what is next, they are able to inspire others as well.

Their unconsciousness is mainly governed by an archaic Sensation directed towards introversion, which means their blind spot corresponds to the endosomatic part of the senses, manifesting as strange and absurd sensations (which yes, it can include perceiving the world as dream-like).

And since Ryoji is a feeler as well, all those characteristics acquire a romantic tinge, seeing things by what they emotionally mean instead of what they (sensually) are. Does it sound familiar? Metaphors about “flowing water” maybe? You can quite literally do one of those school homeworks of joining columns with those points and Ryoji’s characterization.

Another interesting thing to consider is the contrastive relation between Ryoji’s and Makoto’s Types, which returns to my previous point of Ryoji being “incubated” through Makoto’s introversion, because he’s the personification of Makoto’s unconscious functions. The only exception is Ryoji being an extraverted feeler (ExFx) instead of an extraverted thinker (like with Elizabeth again, or Metis), but I still think it fits with Edogawa’s explanations in P4G:

“However, it's not impossible that you might have picked it. The other path was certainly a logical choice. Your Shadow is the path that you didn't take. In other words...It is another you. The Shadow is the ‘you that wasn't picked.’”

Through his fear and trauma, Makoto withheld all the “heat” he could have vested life with inside his soul, warming and breathing life into the “seed” that was sealed within. But whereas the Shadow merely personifies that repressed libido and possibilities, Ryoji became human only through living them—he didn’t only embody Makoto’s repressed yearnings and sufferings, but made them his own. This returns once more to the “jewel” of Pandora that doesn’t solely belong to Prometheus (i.e., Makoto), but to the whole world.

“hell: a name for the *prima materia, the *black colour which appears during the *putrefaction of the matter of the Stone at the *nigredo, the torture through which the ‘body’ of the Stone passes while being dissolved by the secret fire. [...] The nigredo stage is also known as ‘Tartarus’. During the process of the nigredo the colour of the putrefaction is said to be as black as pitch, and the shades of hell appear. A profound blackness reigns both over the matter in the alembic and over the alchemist who may experience the torments of hell while witnessing the shadow or underworld of the psyche.” - A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery, by Lyndy Abraham.

There’s no need to explain why Tartarus and the Dark Hour are the unconscious, but I’ve to in regards to how they represent Makoto’s “stagnant hell” and their relationship with alchemy.

Fire and Motion

According to the same book I quoted before, “A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery”, towers in general can be interpreted to be symbols of the alchemical alembic, the main instrument through which the alchemists try to create the philosophers’ stone. However, alchemy is both an outer and inner discipline, so the tower isn’t merely a symbol for the external instrument, but also for the inner one: the human soul, which is put through “hellish” heat to purify it. Thus, towers, hell, and the individual become synonyms for the same alchemical instrument of transformation, fueled by the “secret” or “inner fire” that, in this case, corresponds to Makoto’s libido.

If we follow the normal alchemical process, then Death/Ryoji should be equal to the prima materia or the “first matter” used to create the Stone. But since the Stone is a symbol of the Self, the presence of Ryoji is iffy unless we, instead of thinking of him as the actual goal of alchemy, interpret him as the “secondary” goal, as gold itself, the mineralized/gross essence of the sun.

“But when the alchemists speak of gold they mean more than material gold. In the microcosmic-macrocosmic law of correspondences, gold is the metallic equivalent of the sun, the image of the sun buried in the earth. The sun in turn is the physical equivalent of the eternal spirit which lodges in the heart (the ‘sun’ of the human microcosm).” - A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery.

This is a topic I already explained previously, since “sun = life = libido = phallus”, corresponding to the masculine/yang/extraverted side of things. As I previously noted on Nyx's post, one can see all of these correspondences with Ryoji’s infamous yellow scarf that represents the golden color—Nyx's core—of the final battle according to the Design Works (again, thanks to elle-p for pointing out that indecipherable text!), decidedly marking him as a product of Makoto’s inner work—as his “mineralized” life-energy.

But to describe Ryoji as purely gold would be incorrect; he’s far from being a pure manifestation of the incorruptible essence of the sun. His true nature is pointed by, again, the final Persona of his Linked Episodes, Saturn, the black sun .

“This power is called ‘sulphur.’ It is a hot, daemonic principle of life, having the closest affinities with the sun in the earth, the “central fire” or ‘ignis gehennalis’ (fire of hell). Hence there is also a Sol niger, a black sun, which coincides with the nigredo and putrefactio, the state of death.” - Mysterium Coniunctionis.

It’s darkness itself, the stagnation of life and its energy that leads to the state we see in the Dark Hour: putrid and rotten to the core, stagnated and filled to the brim with the dead and lost in life. It’s the collective “dark night of the soul”, the nigredo stage of alchemy of all humanity that can only be overcome by setting the world in “fire”, the element of motion and change that makes the clock advance with each full moon and each cleared floor in Tartarus, for better or worse. The transformation of Death into Ryoji is just the repetition of such a process at the individual level.

And if all of that sounds familiar, it should be! That’s the fundamental meaning of both the Fortune and Death arcanas, representing the nature of life as endlessly changing to represent its wholeness. Thus, life stagnating and “becoming a void” is a paradox that must be solved by reigniting its motion/change, lest it collapses into itself.

“This card is attributed to the letter Nun, which means a fish; the symbol of life beneath the waters; life travelling through the waters. [...] In alchemy, this card explains the idea of putrefaction, the technical name given by its adepts to the series of chemical changes which develops the final form of life from the original latent seed in the Orphic egg.” - Book of Thoth, by Aleister Crowley.

The Death arcana is that hellish fire that puts people under the most unbearable pain to put things in the correct path once more. Due to that, it has three “manifestations”: the scorpion that kills itself when finding itself surrounded by “fire”; the serpent that renews itself through its shedding, crawling and thus still attached to earth; and the eagle, the spirit of life that soars the sky, unbounded by and embracing change at the same time. Yet, Death as a Shadow represents the contrary, the stagnated core of the Dark Hour that leads all to its destruction and that must be burned—killed and resurrected

Alchemy is necessarily a violent process, because it requires the constant death and union of the elements so they can be “perfected”. In Death’s case, its alchemical work began from the moment it was separated/“killed” and sealed in Makoto, who is a stand-in for the maternal womb, the alchemical vessel, and the mercurial waters that dissolve the murdered element. Yet, as the alchemist himself, Makoto also pours his own life and heat into the dissolved Shadow to unify and resurrect it in a new, “purer” shape: Pharos, the “creativity” of a nascent sun, the seed of a new life.

(By that matter, Nyx crashing against earth follows a similar pattern: the original being is mutilated and “dissolved” through the alambique—the primordial hadean life. The broken egg or core is an image that has the same meaning as the separation of Death; both fall under the dismemberment motif of alchemy)

But then, how does all of this relate with Saturn? Well, it’s because Saturn has a really long history in hermeticism, alchemy, and astrology: he represents the outermost and heaviest planet of all, embodying the limitations and structure of the universe such as time and death, devouring nature to rebirth it once again. Furthermore, the planet is associated with none other than lead, the heaviest metal that’s commonly used as a metaphor for the first matter, the moribund nature that… well, it should be obvious what one must do.

And funnily enough, just as fire is the element of transformation and renewal, Intuition in general corresponds to the function that oversees the dynamic elements of reality. It perceives the relations and motion between external/internal objects. So in more than one sense, Ryoji is the “inner fire”/“spirit” of Makoto. However, since alchemy deals with opposites and due to his nature as the black sun/saturn, there must be a limiting element in nature to restrain his ever-expanding/intuitive nature…

The Bonds of Death

Why a scarf? Why not another piece of cloth or even jewelry? Well, the image above answers why: a scarf is no different from a noose, one of the most common elements of death deities and grim reaper figures around the world, for what’s death but a hunter of humans? Thus, Ryoji’s scarf is a symbol of how even himself is bound to death, to his underlying nature.

“The difference seems to be due to the repression of real sensations. These make themselves felt when, for instance, the intuitive suddenly finds himself entangled with a highly unsuitable woman—or, in the case of a woman, with an unsuitable man—because these persons have stirred up the archaic sensations.” - Psychological Types.

I can hardly argue in favor of the “unsuitable” part, but there’s no need to really explain the other one, right? “Déjà vu” and all. That’s the “magical” part of Introverted Sensation, which transforms the sensed objects into symbols of the collective psyche through impressing it onto them. And in case of inferior Sensation, as presented above, those filtered sensations become “effective entities” on their own right since the archetypal forces of the unconscious control them, possessing them even. This strengthens the idea of Ryoji’s attraction being rooted not only in the forgotten or unconscious memories of when he was Pharos, existing in a liminal state between consciousness and unconsciousness, but also points to how those memories are themselves mixed with archaic, mythological imagery, and that only has one source.

The protagonist is Ryoji’s “alchemist” and thus an equal to his “mother”, a reflection of Nyx as Death’s “mother”, the “black ocean” from which the transmuted golden egg (or seed) was extracted. This relationship is also pointed out by the fortune teller in club Escapade during January, explaining how “nothingness is the other face of the infinite world/universe”, ultimately hinting at the same thing I explained through the inferior Sensation: the oneness between the figure of Nyx and Makoto (understanding him as a symbol for all humanity).

In particular, I think the image above is perfect for this, since not only Nyx’s core and Makoto are (close to be) superimposed with each other, but also due to the black spiral in the background. The spiral also appears on the Great Seal’s surface, and within this context I have to quote Jung once more:

“We can hardly escape the feeling that the unconscious process moves spiral-wise round a centre, gradually getting closer, while the characteristics of the centre grow more and more distinct. Or perhaps we could put it the other way round and say that the centre—itself virtually unknowable—acts like a magnet on the disparate materials and processes of the unconscious and gradually captures them as in a crystal lattice. For this reason the centre is (in other cases) often pictured as a spider in its web (fig. 108), especially when the conscious attitude is still dominated by fear of unconscious processes.” - Psychology and Alchemy.

The book and even the own paragraph goes on to say that the “centre” is the Self (along with a noteworthy mention of the orphic egg again). But more importantly is the mention of the web here, representing consciousness’ “fear” of joining into the endless spiral that moves around without end, and its connection to the first kanji of Ryoji’s name: “綾”, which means “twill weave” or a “pattern of diagonal stripes”, a textile element that shouldn’t be so different from a web. Needless to say, all of that is connected to the figure of the alchemist/crafter and that of a mother.

The scarf in the first image, due to the fetal position of Ryoji, can be read as an umbilical (normally red) cord connecting him to Makoto/the “mother”, while the second is a little more explicit with the association to the red thread of fate—and what other fate there’s but death? Ryoji’s inherent connection to Death and Nyx is expressed through the “golden cord” that his scarf is, which can also be read as a noose, and as a manifestation of the inferior Sensation, the static element that eternally joins him to his source.

(Scan uploaded by Vesk)

Even the final resolution of Ryoji and Makoto, the white stone and pure dove incarnated, can’t abandon the chain that binds them to death and its hellish fire. However, this time is a willing acceptance of its existence, holding it with one’s hand instead of letting it strangle the individual unconsciously. Even the hands at the waist are holding each other gently, representing the final union of the “lovers” at the top of the alembic—at the top of Tartarus—in the form of a winged spirit.

“The united bodies of sulphur and argent vive, usually symbolized by a pair of lovers, are killed, dissolved and laid in a grave to putrefy during the stage known as the *nigredo. Their souls fly to the top of the alembic while the blackened *hermaphroditic body is sublimed, distilled and purified. When the body is cleansed to perfect whiteness it is then reunited with the soul (or united soul and spirit).” - A Dictionary of Alchemical Imagery.

Death is fate indeed, and in that fire, change and life. It’s the ultimate “fetter” that no one can go against, let alone the immortals that do not fear it.

#persona 3 #persona 3 spoilers #ryoji mochizuki #makoto yuki #persona 3 protagonist #thematic analysis kinda?#there's a lot more I could comment here #specially in relation to his relationship with junpei since both of them are “red”#but I think this enough for the moment

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