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sweetspidergirl · 5 months ago

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A Tangled Web (Spider HRT Story)

Chapter 1

“This is stupid. Why am I doing this?”

This question echoed in my head as I sat in the sterile waiting room of the doctor's office, accompanied by the sound of the clock ticking away in the background. Besides me and the receptionist behind the counter, there was no one else in the room. That made sense. With it being a few days before Christmas, who would willingly want to spend any amount of that time in such a depressing location?

A twenty-five year old woman dissatisfied with her life and seeking a new one, apparently.

As I sat there waiting for permission to see the doctor, my mind drifted back to how I got here. It was half a year ago where I first vented frustration over my life to my best friend Elisa, and she mentioned how I might be going through species dysphoria. She then sent me some articles and links and suggested I look into humanity removal therapy, or HRT.

I had been vaguely aware of humanity removal therapy, often referred to as therian HRT, for a few months by that point. It functioned mostly like hormone replacement therapy, only it would gradually change the patient into a human/animal hybrid, or therian. It was a recent development, only having been available to the public for a little over five years, and still had quite a bit of controversy associated with it from various political groups. Despite that, based on the testimonials I read and the various pictures I saw, the people who have gone through therian HRT seemed to be happier now than they ever had as humans. Maybe it would be worth it if I gave the whole thing a shot. Maybe being in another body might help me be happy again.

I glanced down at the blank screen of my phone, looking over myself in annoyance. I noted the long, messy brown hair that I barely made look presentable. I noted the pale skin caused by a lack of social interaction and preferring the light of a screen over the sun. I noted the oval-shaped glasses and casual hoodie and sweatpants that hid as much of me as possible. I was another drop of water in the ocean that was humanity. Even my blue eyes, once bright and full of hope, had started to appear dim and non-descript as of late.

“Taylor Thompson?”

I snapped out of my thoughts as the doctor called my name. Turning my head in his direction, I got a good look at the man who would be deciding my future. He was an older gentleman, probably in his 50s or 60s, with a grey receding hairline and mustache. His thick, round glasses made it hard for me to see his eyes. Grabbing my belongings, I quietly followed the doctor as he guided me to his office. The office was what I expected to see: a small, plain white room with a desk, degrees on the wall, and bookshelves full of books that I would be too dumb to properly understand. On the desk was a small nameplate that read “Dr. T. H. Erian, Species Dysphoria Specialist” in large, clean letters. I set my bag beside me and took my seat, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. I swallowed the lump of anxiety that was forming in my throat. There was no turning back now.

“So, Miss Thompson, what brings you here today?” Dr. Erian asked in a stern voice. One sentence in and I was already having flashbacks to my high school principal. The main difference here, however, was that my answers actually mattered for more than avoiding detention.

“I, um, was hoping to be prescribed therian HRT. Specifically spider HRT.” I answered, trying to remain calm and collected.

“I see… and why a spider, if I may ask?” The doctor questioned as he began writing something on a piece of paper in front of him.

“Well, I think spiders are a lot like me. Most people are scared of them, but in reality they’re mostly just nervous, adorable little beans.” I explained with a bit of blush on my face.

“Any preferred species of spiders?”

“I was hoping to be a tarantula. They're cute and fluffy, and I think I'd look just as good as one.”

“May I ask why you wish to undergo humanity removal therapy?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I've been unhappy with myself lately. My diet's been awful, I rarely go outside and interact, and in general I just hate everything about myself. My best friend, Elisa Andrews, thinks I might be going through species dysphoria. She works with therians and otherkin daily, so I assume she's right.” I explained to Dr. Erian. I then handed him a folder that contained the paperwork Elisa told me I'd need before being prescribed therian HRT: a medical examination, two psychological evaluations, written support from her and my father. I even spiced the folder up with doodles of webs and cartoon spiders in hopes that it would help my case.

Dr. Erian looked through the paperwork I gave him. I was unable to get a good idea of what he was thinking. His flat, emotionless voice was hard to read, and thanks to those glasses I couldn't tell whether he was impressed by work or annoyed at me wasting his time. I was hoping it was the former.

“Miss Thompson, before we continue, I'd like to ask an important question.” Dr. Erian spoke as he set the folder down in front of him on the desk. “How much do you know about therians?”

“How much do I know?” I asked curiously. “I mean, my best friend’s a physical therapist that works with therians, and I'm kinda aware of some of the legislature that's been passed recently-”

“That's not what I am referring to.” Dr. Erian interrupted. “I want to know if you understand what therians go through, what the process of going through humanity removal therapy is like and how you'll have to adapt. You are aware that I recommend patients spend some time living as their desired species before I prescribe them HRT, correct?”

“I-I mean… if it helps I have a few spider plushies.” I said sheepishly. I could already feel my luck running out.

Dr. Erian sighed and gently rubbed at his forehead before speaking again. “Miss Thompson, this is a serious life-changing procedure. Once you start therian HRT, your DNA will be rewritten to match your chosen species. You'll never be human again, even if you stop early into your therapy. I cannot prescribe it to just anyone who steps foot into my office.”

I sunk into my seat slightly, bringing my knees just under my chin as I almost curled up to feel safe and protected. “B-but… I was told you can help people with this kind of stuff.”

“I can, and I do. However, not everyone needs HRT. What you may think is species dysphoria could very well just be depression, and what you may need is something far simpler than a complete genetic rewrite.” The doctor explained.

I sat there in silence, barely listening to the doctor's words. He was saying so much when it all boiled down to one word: “no.” No, I couldn't get humanity removal treatment. No, I couldn't have happiness. No, I was doomed to hate myself for the rest of my miserable life. Tears started to creep their way out of my eyes, stinging slightly as they worked their way down my cheeks.

Just as I was about ready to give up and head home, I glanced up and noticed Dr. Erian looking through my papers once more. I was expecting him to scold me again. I hid my face against my knees and closed my eyes, bracing myself for his harsh words to wound my heart further.

“...are you sure becoming a tarantula will make you happy?”

I slowly brought my eyes up to look at Dr. Erian, not fully emerging from my self-made cocoon as I processed his question. What was making him change his mind? Did he believe that I'm suffering from species dysphoria after all, or was he simply taking pity on me? Regardless of the answer, I couldn't let this opportunity slip by my fingers.

“Y-yes… yes it will, doctor.” I responded, almost forcing myself to do so. A tense silence hung in the air for what felt like hours as Dr. Erian stared at me, almost examining me. I gripped the sides of my legs, waiting anxiously for either him to continue lecturing me or for me to have the courage to speak again.

“Well, if that is your answer, then I will approve you for tarantula HRT.” Dr. Erian said, writing on the piece of paper some more. “Considering it's the holiday season, it's likely your pharmacy won't receive your first dosage until after the new year, though.”

My heart almost skipped a beat at the news. I was… actually going to be a tarantula?! “Wait, really? You're… approving me for the HRT?” I asked, nearly jumping out of my seat. “Oh thank you Doc! Thank you very, very much!”

Dr. Erian sighed, writing some more information down on the paper. “As I explained, transitioning to a different species won't be easy. There will be some side effects to expect as your body changes.” He explained, making sure I had calmed down a bit before he continued. “Not all therians will experience the same side effects. Not all side effects will be present at once. Some will show up at different stages of your transition. At the earliest stages of spider HRT, I would primarily expect to see itchy skin as your hair grows in, as well as weight gain to provide material for your additional body parts to develop. Beyond that, you may experience headaches, nausea, dizziness, fatigue, and possible body pain.”

After making sure I understood the side effects I might encounter during my transition, Dr. Erian started digging through a drawer in his desk, and from there pulled out two items. The first was a pamphlet that had “Welcome to your Humanity Removal Therapy” written on the cover, alongside “Species: Spider” and a minimalist illustration of him. “This pamphlet will help guide you through your transition, Miss Thompson. It provides details on a recommended meal plan, the type of environment you should live in, a rough timeline of what changes you should expect and when you should expect them, a full list of potential side effects, and more.” The doctor explained. “I would make sure to give this a thorough read if I were you. I'll also be sending you a digital copy after our meeting. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me and I will provide an answer at the earliest convenience.”

I took the pamphlet in my hands, almost crushing it in excitement. “Of course Doc. I'll definitely give it a read once I get home.”

Just as I was about to get up and leave, Dr. Erian cleared his throat. “There is one other thing I must discuss with you before we conclude here, Miss Thompson.” He said, causing me to sit back down in my seat. “I still disapprove of you not doing any research on therian culture prior to our meeting. So… I'd like for you to interact with other therians while you're taking HRT. It's not mandatory, but I do feel it will not only help you learn about your new lifestyle but also potentially help with your mood.”

As Dr. Erian said that, he handed another item. I took it in my hands and looked it over. Instead of another pamphlet, it was a flyer detailing a therian support group that was close to where I lived. It detailed that it was bi-weekly, and that it was open to those on HRT, regardless of stage, as well as those questioning.

“I'll keep that all in mind. Thank you so much for all of this, Doc.” I said, stuffing the papers in my bag. After discussing insurance and other important information to get my prescription set in stone, I left the office and gave a heavy exhale as soon as I was outside. That was probably the most stressful talk I've ever had, but it was done and over with. While I stood outside and caught my breath, my phone started buzzing. Pulling it out, I saw that I was getting a call from Elisa.

“So, how'd it go?” Elisa asked, sounding exceedingly curious. Looking at the time on my phone, I hadn't realized she had just finished with work by the time I finished my meeting.

“Well, I managed to get the prescription, so that's good. You didn't tell me he was gonna be so scary though.” I answered back with a tiny bit of irritation in my voice.

“Hey I never met the guy personally. Besides, you still got the HRT in the end, so it all worked out.” Elisa answered back. “So how long before you start spinning webs and crawling up walls?”

“Well, my first dosage won't arrive until after the new year. Beyond that, well…” I trailed off a bit, glancing back at my bag and the papers inside of it. “I have some homework to do.”

---

Welcome everyone! This is the start of a (hopefully) long-term project I intend to work on. This is the story of Taylor Thompson, a 25-year-old woman seeking a change in life through humanity removal therapy. In the process of transitioning from human to spider, she'll learn more about the world of therians, as well as learn more about herself and what she wants out of life.

I want to thank @ayviedoesthings, @welldrawnfish, @entroart, @bubbleverseart, @nyxisart, @prettiestplatypus, @deadeyedfae, @kaylasartwork, and anyone else I may have forgotten (there's a lot of people I'm so sorry ><) for creating the world of therian HRT and creating such a community, as well as my fiancé for showing them to me and for inspiring me to give my own version a try. I can't say when the second chapter will be done, so just keep your eyes open, and I hope you all will join me on this long, wild ride.

Thank you so much in advance.

#furry hrt #therian #otherkin #spider hrt #furry #transformation #fantasy hrt

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something-tofightfor · 2 years ago

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Happy Home Alone!!! I has a prompt:

Javier Peña + Stars.

Alright, Adira. I see you. Thank you for sending this over - I've missed writing for Javi P like you would not believe.

This is connected to Slopeside - and takes place after that main story is done. (And gives you a clue as to what's coming for them!)

WC: 1,346

He couldn’t sleep.

It was too quiet - too dark, too still - and after so long in Colombia, he wasn’t used to it.

The window was cracked, letting in a slight breeze, and as he stared at the ceiling, his eyes focused on a tiny sliver of moonlight just above his pillows, Javi sighed.

He hadn’t been sleeping well, which wasn’t anything new. But the previous few months had been even worse than usual. It’s gonna take time to adjust.

He’d been doing what he could - working long days with his father on the property, taking extra shifts and cases at work, trying to reconnect with people that he’d previously lost touch with, but nothing had done the trick.

It didn’t matter how long he was awake or how hard he’d worked, it was next to impossible for him to fully unwind at the end of the day - and it meant that he was constantly exhausted.

The same had been true in Colombia, but there’d been actual reasons for that. Javier’s belief was that once he was back home and on more of a regular schedule, things would change. I was wrong. Dead wrong.

Still focused on the patch of light, he sighed again and then rolled onto his side, closing his eyes.

He was putting off the inevitable and he knew it - just as he’d known it back while trying to chase sleep in Medellín and Bogotá and Cali.

Even though he wasn’t asleep and didn’t think that he’d get there any time soon, getting out of bed and padding down the hall toward the front door wasn’t something he wanted to do. Not yet.

His new position allowed him to look out the window that faced the back yard, the same opening between the curtains that let the moonlight in also allowing him a glimpse at the dark Texas sky - and the stars in it.

He couldn’t see much through the crack, but what he could see brought a small smile to his face. There we go. One side of his mouth pulled upward for a few seconds before he let out a slow breath, the man’s eyes closing. Sleep, Peña.

It was too late to call you, and he knew it, but saying that he didn’t consider it would have been a lie.

What the two of you were was undefined, but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t enjoyed getting to know you over the previous few months.

A chance encounter at a ski resort during a holiday trip with the Murphys had ledJavi to a place that he hadn’t expected to go - and to a person that, a few years earlier, he never would have had the chance to meet.

Not because he wouldn’t have been attracted to you or sought you out after seeing you for the first time, but because if he’d still been DEA in Colombia, there wouldn’t have been time for a vacation.

But being back in Texas meant that he could take time off when he wanted to. He could travel out of state and not worry about being called in before his vacation had ended. It meant that he’d been able to take extra days, returning to Colorado only a few weeks after the first time. It meant that he could get to know you, not just get to know your body and worry about something ripping you away from him before either of you were ready.

Javier hadn’t been in a real relationship since Lorraine, and even though he still wasn’t, he had to admit that he was closer with you than he had been to a woman at any time in Colombia, even with Helena. Or Elisa. He had fond memories of both of them and even though he’d cared, it had been a different kind of caring - what he was mentally and emotionally capable of at the time. And nothing more.

He wondered how they were doing sometimes - with Helena more than Elisa, since Connie had actually heard from the woman after escorting her to safety, but it had been a little while. I could call someone down there. Someone I trust … someone to look into …

He sighed again, closing his eyes and rubbing the space between his brows with the tips of his fingers. It wouldn’t do any good to ask about Helena, because the truth was, she was better off without him - just like so many others were.

The thought woke up him entirely, the man pushing upward into a sitting position and then to his feet. Helena almost died because she was trying to get information for me. Elisa could have been killed because of what she knew and what we needed to have her do. Christina’s husband… well. Lorraine would have been miserable with me because I made her feel like she had to lie to keep me around.

And that was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the women in his life, if he was being honest. Shit.

He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and his lighter as he passed his dresser and headed for he the door - but Javier didn’t bother putting a shirt on.

As he padded down the hallway and toward the kitchen, Javi stuck the pack and lighter into his pants pocket, the weight of both dragging the thin material down and exposing more of his belly. I’ll sit on the porch and smoke, and then … then I’ll go back to sleep.

But when he stepped through the kitchen, the man reached for the cordless phone and curled his fingers around it, taking it with him into the still night air.

He held it as he sunk into one of the chairs, staring at the device in his hand. It’s too late. It’s too… Javi set it down and lifted one hip, reaching for his cigarettes and pulling one free, the quiet flick of the lighter almost comforting.

Javier smoked in silence until the cigarette was half gone, and then he reached for the phone, dialing the number he had memorized and lifting it to his ear. Just a short one. He briefly glanced down at the numbers after being prompted to enter in his code, but when he lifted it a second time after dialing your number - the automated voice reminding him that he had 54 minutes remaining as the call connected - he was already looking out at the sky again.

I’ll leave her a message and she can listen in the morning. He sighed, closing his eyes and preparing for your instructions and then the beep - but you answered on the third ring, your voice sleepy through the speaker. “Mmmm-hello?”

He said your name, the surprise in his tone evident, and then you cleared your throat, saying his in response. That woke her up. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry. I just …” Trailing off, Javier took another drag on his cigarette, shrugging. “I couldn’t sleep, and -”

“And so you went outside to sit on your porch while you called me?” You were smiling; he knew it even though he couldn’t see it. I did. “I think I was dreaming about you, Peña.”

“Yeah?” He smiled at that, rolling his head from side to side and reaching up with the hand not holding the phone - to rub at his temple, the cigarette still pinched between his first two fingers. “Wanna tell me about it? I’ve got time.”

It was your turn to laugh, but when you started talking, your voice quiet and steady, Javier felt himself relaxing. Only a few minutes later, he was standing and heading back for his room, cigarette stubbed out in the ashtray and the phone still held to his ear.

Your voice over the phone was a poor substitute for you actually being in the bed with him, but until ski season ended in April and you were cleared to leave Colorado, it would have to do. Only a few more weeks. Only a few more weeks and then she’ll be in Texas.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena #javier Peña x female reader #javi p #one word weekend #pedro pascal #one word writing prompts #weekend writing event #narcos fic #javier Peña masterlist #slopeside #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal masterlist #slopeside masterlist #one word weekend masterlist #oonajaeadira #javi p + stars

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ccrissproductions · 9 months ago

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We Are Our Muse

Chapter Five:

The Sun Only Shines Just Enough

"Do what?!" Patrick was completely blindsided.

"I think this would be a great opportunity for you," Elisa insisted.

Yeah, there's no way in Hell he's doing that.

"It's only for the summer and it gives you something to do!" Elisa was excited for him. However, she was still implying that he was just bored.

"I have something to do! A couple things actually. They're called 'Thing One' and 'Thing Two,' and they keep me quite busy during the day," he said in a sweet tone laced with sarcasm.

"Patri--"

"Speaking of--- what about them? You're busy with work and with me gone, who's gonna be with the boys?" Checkmate.

"Your parents!" Goddammit. "They've been dying to spend some time with them anyway!" Elisa had that look in her eye. She actually wanted him to do this.

"Okay, well what about the band? We have to do promo for the record, you know, interviews and such. I won't have time for that anyway," Solid rebuttal, if he does say so himself.

"It's only a couple days out of the week. I'm sure you'll have time," she placed his hand on his shoulder and reassured.

Patrick was simply uninterested.

He had to put his foot down. He said no.

Point.

Blank.

Period.

No with a capital 'N.'

He replayed this instance in his head as he sat in his car, parked outside of St. Paul's Domus Caritatis.

He was straightforward; Nonnegotiable.

Patrick blames this on the fact that his wife was a lawyer and used her courtroom magic on him. Still, he swears he crossed his 'i's and dotted his 't's and--- oh, that's where he went wrong.

He groaned agitatedly and exited his vehicle. Fuck his life.

He walked into the adoption center. The first thing he realized was how dark it was. The morning light didn't shine bright in here; maybe nothing did.

He went to the front desk where an older woman sat. She was light-skinned and quite round. Her grey hair was slicked back into a low bun. Instead of the office attire you expect from a receptionist, she wore sweats. She had deep frown lines and a closed off expression; like, in her heart, she quit this job ten years ago.

The title on the desk read, 'Mrs. Milleson.'

"Um, good morning?" Patrick tried. Without looking up from her computer, she asked, "Ya here to adopt?"

"Uh, well--" Before he could finish, she slammed a piece of paper in front of him.

"Here is a list of all the requirements needed to adopt a child. You would also need to attend training; this could take up to but is not limited to a year's time to complete," She spoke robotically.

"Um wait, I'm actually here for the volunteer position... as the music teacher?" Patrick said warily. This lady made him feel uncomfortable; like he should regret being here and he hasn't been here for five minutes.

Her eyes finally turned to him and gave him a once over. She pointed down the hallway behind her and said, "knock first."

"Oh... kay," Patrick mumbled as he went down the hallway. He looked back over his shoulder just to see what Milleson was doing that was so important that hospitality was exchanged for rudeness.

Once he saw, he scoffed and shook his head at the sight.

She was playing Solitaire.

White light shined from under the door at the end of the short hallway. A rusty gold plaque that read 'DEAN'S OFFICE' was on the old wooden door. Patrick rapped his knuckles against the wood and heard a quick "come in!"

---

The attic is melancholy, the basement is creepy, and St. Paul's Domus Caritatis is depressing. Here, the sun only shines just enough to tell us it's morning; not enough to warm us or brighten our lives. The air here was bleak and thick, you could cut through it with a closed pen.

In some sense, I believe in evolution. I believe that humans are evolving; this place makes me believe that. This place is different from the other orphanages I've been at. It's like living under water.

Those who are unfamiliar with the atmosphere, easily get uncomfortable. Their eyes burn and their lungs suffocate. They can either swim to the surface or drown. If they take too long, their lungs will die, and they'll sink to the bottom of the ocean.

However, those who are here twenty-four hours every day have grown accustomed to their habitat. Their eyes don't burn anymore, they learned how to only use water for its oxygen. They're now apt to the environment.

They even become blind to the water that surrounds them.

They ignore or forget that humans are not fish. We don't belong under the sea for such a long time.

And children aren't meant to be in such a miserable environment for such a long time.

No one is.

---

"Oh! Come, come, come!" The Dean said as Patrick tried to keep up with her. He followed her down the hall, she said they were going to peek into the lunchroom so he can be a little familiar with what he was dealing with.

Patrick couldn't help but notice the run-down posters on the walls as they went. Cheesy posters with even cheesier phrases trying to convince kids to 'do the right thing' and 'keep their head up!' These were the posters he hated in high school, and he still hates them now.

The Dean looked back and saw how far she was from him.

The Dean was a cheerful young Puerto Rican woman a few inches taller than Patrick. She dressed professionally in a way that would remind anyone of a principal; magenta blouse, blue blazer, with a matching pencil skirt that hugged her well.

Not that he noticed or anything.

She gasped, "Oh! I'm so sorry!" Her heels clacking as she scurried back to him.

"Sorry, we just haven't had a volunteer in a long time, and I just got so excited," she spoke excitedly as they were now walking together.

"Oh no, it's fine I get it," Patrick waved her off with a polite smile. "Anyone would get excited about what they cared about, right? Misses...?"

"Oh my God!" She cupped her hands over her mouth. "I never introduced myself, did I?"

He chuckled amicably. The New York accent on her tongue only added to her outgoing personality.

"No, you just kind of jumped up and made me walk with you down the hall," He spoke sheepishly as he tucked his hands into his jean's pocket.

The only reason he knows she's the Dean is because it was on her office door.

"Sorry," she winced a bit before straightening up. She cleared her throat, "I'm Mrs. Ramirez, the Dean."

Patrick hummed and then said, "Well, I'm Patrick, the volunteer," he joked, bowing slightly and tipping his head.

Mrs. Ramirez laughed, "you are a charmer, Patrick."

With his hands back in his pockets, he shrugged, "I try."

They arrived at the cafeteria and Patrick was almost instantly overwhelmed.

There were at least three hundred kids here!

"Am I teaching all these kids?" Patrick asked nervously, coughing to keep his voice from going up an octave.

"Oh no! Only those who sign up for your class," Patrick visibly exhaled cause that was a relief.

"And how many do you think that'll be?"

"Hopefully a lot," another voice said from behind them. They both turned to see a tall, muscular guy with long dreads pulled back into a ponytail walking up to them.

"Ah! Jacob!" Mrs. Ramirez exclaimed, clasping her hand together.

"'Mornin' Ms. Avery," He gave her a side hug.

They turned back to Patrick, "Patrick, this is Jacob. One of the staff members of our senior team. He works more with the high schoolers and older kids." Mrs. Ramirez introduced.

"Patrick," the shorter man introduced himself as he shook hands with Jacob.

"Stump, right?" Patrick nodded.

"Looks like I'm known," Patrick jokes. "Amongst the adults, maybe," Jacob shrugged with his hands in his pocket.

"Unless you're the latest drill rapper or trap artist," Jacob turned towards the cafeteria, "they have no idea who you are."

Well, that hurt a little.

"He's volunteering to be the music teacher for the summer," Mrs. Ramirez spoke up. Jacob raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Yeah, believe it or not. Wife thought it was a good idea. I wasn't so sure I was going to, but here I am," Cause he sure as hell would not be doing it otherwise.

"Well, it's a good thing you did," The Dean placed her hand on Patrick's shoulder, "We've been trying to get activities going throughout the summer to keep these kids out of trouble."

"Yeah, the last thing this city needs are 300 more 'menaces to societies' running around," The dark-skinned man agreed.

"3J!" A kid called from across the lunchroom.

"Whelp, duty calls," Jacob said before hurrying off.

"Well," Mrs. Ramirez said, clasping her hands together. She turned to Patrick, "Want to see your classroom?"

#patrick stump #fanfiction #fall out boy #fob #mania era #im supposed to being hw but fuck it #fob smfs

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

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Succumbing to Her uncondition

How very useless fragments. Us: lightlier move the bane of all our longing, flung stones and snowy mountain-top, can this boyish, new, seraglio title, got I know the world,

the universe rests on the madhouse they doe rauish quite, a blush their smart, so now his frend to Phoebus, father was seen reading Athanasius’ curse, which once he made, as by a

springe giues place and still, and when she gave her grief with him on the pure spirit’s light leave to crave though unfit, he probably would euer laste. That through that dainty cheere thou toldst mine eyes, and

she with our spirit’s knife carved uncouth figures seen, no heaving of the narration, which, like fire he meets the fourth, and perceivest, which the present family’s deaths and wooings. For

though in the long-drawn thread with backwards, then idly sought about her fly, ofte peeping moon. As soon as they were strangest in this aged thorn; no leaves and flowers to deck the dead

a light unto eternity. The Princess cried; Forbear, Sir’ I; and heated through my heart had ached to hear, and every brake, but for the living voice, expecting still the Future

dares to walk here. Now was Salámán’s face again, for if so be our closes make gilly-flowers, thrown: Cease, yet cannot knowing; but in the country born and bred, and almost

spent, the shade and sunburnt mirth hath present with cries instead of jutting crag, I found her empty nest, the golden crown upon his conquests keep his name, made many a snatch

its bone; count dust specks, mote by mote, Or learn to look at them bemone that someone always meant and whatever you meant this. Golden: let thy music drop here unaware in folds

of gold. That makes his Sign, and be kind at once from a centre, dart thy spirits taught Grief to fall. And strikes me dead? Simply nor any dread disquiet once annoy the safety

of our own imperative expense: I do not think, by this and there burn blue. Of children and the execution, to the open air and sea, Live!—Oh! A thousand bosom

brake the honey Bee, working her grace. She sang of, shook and fell. Heaven’s light loves languish wrung Gulbeyaz, too, could brooke somwhat thy brood is flown: say to him: Friend. Nor any dread

disquiet thus disturb the calm Dudu so turbulently wake. That reigned as men sayd in Venus sittes and walking out with some, which wears the soul of me, and rolled in that clime—

at least when I knock at heart, returnest home, She spoke at once in life so rare, since, seldom pleasures, and yawn’d a good night is flown, since she loueth best, that firste, and arts with thy disease?

Miss, gliding the grass, to stray in spirit a woman is. Mind, their bowre: and now and thee. Find then, demanded the infallible resource to which the hunter rued his rash

intrusion, manlike, but his hair fell in silvery showers where we’d live forever— and did. My soul appalls; I mock’d at the wind; or like a cloud the moon peeped, just escapes;

but to thine own land, part made long stairway again& become the boat be ready for gaol, their never knowing it, that she might dare repeat the same, which is also a bell the

act of love that soon it wither in her hut, then to me. Forget the Past so sweet and tender, dear brown-eyed little sweetheart mine, as when, halting by yon gate which by and by;

and the wild inhabiters of their chaste orb shone as clear as such a brain than to junketing and weeping will. The eternal motive; and the more than stone, thou now art! Of

fayre Elisa be your sight.—In truth not I. The country wags too—and, alas! Succumbing to Her uncondition. All so my lustfull leafe is drye and secret heart of woe?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #174 texts #ballad

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stardustedstories · 7 months ago

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Elisa is tense, on edge, senses alert for any threat. This woman had come into the station alone, but what if that was just a distraction? Could there be people going after her friends right now? No, there couldn't be; no one knew where they were. And if she went to check on them now, it was a certainty that someone would follow her, that they would be counting on her to want to check on them, would be expecting her to lead them right to them.

All of this goes through her mind in a split second. If this woman makes one wrong move, Elisa will be ready for her. But she wants to at least give her a chance to explain herself. She hadn't done anything to suggest that she might be a threat, and Elisa will give her the benefit of the doubt….., but she will not underestimate her.

So when Kidagakash starts to speak, Elisa listens, keeping her expression neutral, at least until the other woman has a chance to say what she'd come here to say.

Or at least, that had been the plan. But when Kidagakash says that "Gorlois" were known to her people, then calls them gargoyles, Elisa knows that the recognition will show in her face. Between the photos and now explicit mention of gargoyles…., this woman knows about them. She'd have to remember to ask her how she knew to come looking for her, specifically. Because that could end up being dangerous if they weren't careful.

The young woman explains that gargoyles had lived alongside her people, but vanished when she was a girl. A friend of hers had taken the photographs, had alerted her to the presence of gargoyles, because he knew of her search. But when Kidagakash mentions that the last time she saw a gargoyle was seventy years ago, one of Elisa's brows arches almost involuntarily. Was she really suggesting she was almost 100? She didn't look much older tha Elisa, possibly even younger.

Kidagakash finishes, explaining that she is also protecting a secret, but she just wants the chance for answers.

Elisa takes a deep breath, her mind racing. She doesn't want to endanger her friends….., but she wants to trust this young woman. The detective doesn't think she's lying…, but she's still going to be careful. She's not about to expose the gargoyles to danger just because she decided she could trust another human.

"Look, Kidagakash….," she starts, the arms crossed over her chest relaxing enough for her to drop her arms to her sides. "I wanna believe you, I do. I want to think that you have only knowledge in mind, that you just want answers. But you've gotta understand that it's hard to trust what you're telling me when you say things like you saw a gargoyle seventy years ago."

Then again…., hadn't she just come back from Avalon, where time passed differently? Maybe Kidagakash was from somewhere similar. Who was to say she wasn't older than she looked.

Elisa lets out another little sigh, shaking her head. "Okay, so….that was a little presumptive of me; I don't know where you've come from or what you've been through. But I can't endanger my family just so you can get answers." She meets the other woman's gaze, her own very serious. "What I can do is set up a meeting, on neutral ground. And if they want to talk to you…, they'll show up. But if they don't…., well, that's not my decision to make." Hopefully she would respect whatever decision Goliath made.

If Kida was aware of Elisa's momentary risk assessment, she shows no outward sign of it. Truthfully, she is not unaware of the distrust in surface dwellers, but would prefer to try and... think the best of them, until proven otherwise.

( how she hopes elisa won't prove her wrong. )

She does, however, see the way that the woman hesitates when she sees the evidence that she had provided. Was it concern, or disbelief? She isn't entirely certain which, wishes briefly that Milo had come along with her. He was often better when it came to social situations than she was, even after all this time.

Before there is a chance to ask about her reaction, if perhaps she has the wrong person, Elisa is standing from her desk and telling her to come. Bright eyes glance around the office, spying the way that the other people present look at her — a slight shake of the head, pity in some faces and amusement in others — before trailing along with the detective.

Elisa does not lead her to any kind of cell, the way she had internally dreaded she might. Instead, the two women find themselves in the bathroom, alone, with Elisa placing herself between Kida and the exit.

It seemed... perhaps she had the right woman after all.

"Many years ago, the Gorlois were known to my people. You call them... gargoyles?" The word feels heavy on her tongue, but she is not certain if these truly were the creatures she believed them to be. It was possible the other woman would never have heard such a name. "They lived alongside us... but, when I was a little girl, they... vanished. My father refused to speak of it... as he did with many things. No matter how I asked. As time wears on, they were... forgotten."

Tugging at the cord around her neck, Kida pulled her crystal out from beneath her sweater, running her thumb over it like a worry stone. "The photographs were taken by a friend of mine. He is ...very interested in the supernatural, things which we are not able to explain. He knows of my search for the Gorlois. This is the first time I have seen one in... seventy years."

Releasing the crystal, she takes a breath. You've come this far. "I cannot explain everything. I understand that you are protecting a great secret : please understand that I am as well. But I spoke the truth. I want nothing more than... the chance of answers. To know why they left... and where they went."

#missallanea #missallanea : kida #✦ elisa maza || ic ✦ I'm no hero; i just do my job #✦ elisa maza ✦ || verse . the road takes you home #[I love Elisa so much]#[i am ready for this friendship]

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violetren · 1 year ago

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Aether Chapter 18

I laughed out loud and had to explain to my sister how funny it was that Varsha had head slapped Elisa at super speed. So that was a thing.

^^^ that is as far as I got before getting half a dozen different domestic tasks, then meals, then shopping, then party prep, then balloon fetching, and omfg, I am so tired.

Back to the important stuff.

Every time I had sat down to try and write just about anything I have been reminded that Maggie is the reason Maxine has powers because she's a fucking dork whose mental image of a healthy cat include all her memories of pretending her childhood cat could talk like Salem from Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and it delights me every time.

Oh so Focus and Scatter were on the moon. Three lesbian icons together. Post party I am just tired and tipsy enough that I started humming Fly Me to the Moon (So I Can Fight It) to myself. Got some odd looks from the surrounding family but made myself giggle. Anyways, I wonder what the fuck is going on up there. Invasion prep that is hopefully got thwarted.

It is very narratively clear why Maggie doesn't like or want to be a hero. But holy shit baby girl, the way you behaved during every step of that emergency from the time you and Varsha got the call WAS NOT just a by product of safety and first aid training over the course of an education in physics.

The Unitarium is a name that gives me sci fi dystopia vibes. I wonder if Garrett has gone and gotten himself involved with them. They definitely sound like the type of folks who would want their hands on the kind of weapon Garrett has become. Hell, they sound like the kind of group that would be funding the illegal research that started this whole mess in the first place. Right now I reckon they have some kind of ongoing connect with Praetorian.

Nomi is a lot gentler than Banks that is for sure, and she actually takes the time to offer benefits, and explanations about how Maggie might be able to find some balance and keep more of her old life trajectory than she had been expecting. She isn't a soft touch though. She straight up says Varsha's not being sensible with her reassurances that Maggie can just walk away from this life if she wants. Nomi is also the only one who forces Maggie to acknowledge that the choices she makes when people need help are not choices made by people who can and would pass on becoming a superhero.

Truly Nomi would be fully justified using her spot as team leader to toss Hannah and Ashley into couples therapy. Even individual therapy would probably help some at this point. Or locking Hannah and Eurion in a room until Hannah got it through her thick skull that Eurion has basically been trying to wingman for her and get Ashley to woman up and admit her feelings for almost the entire time they have known each other.

I am once again asking who the fuck is Tux and when the hell do we get to meet her? She sounds fun.

It's funny that Nomi's most compelling argument as to why Maggie should sign up is her shovel talk.

Holy fuck I got to the end. It only took what 2 days?

#chirping wren #aether #maggie bennett #nomi hashimoto #maxine the kitten #varsha patel #elisa element #sapphic fiction #sci fi #queer fiction #super hero fiction #lesbian fiction #lgbt fiction

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joelslegalwhre · 2 years ago

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And just like that

pairing ⁀➷ henry cavill x (fem!)reader

word count ⁀➷ 1.8k

summary ⁀➷ You and Henry have known each other since you were both little. After his last breakup, you comfort him… which makes him realize some things

warnings ⁀➷ it’s just a shit ton of fluff and reader comforting henry

a/n ⁀➷ Please tell me if I missed a warning! The names I gave Henry's brother's wives (Elisa, Maia, Ashlyn) aren't their real names i don't even know if all of his brothers have wives!

(I listened to my h.c. playlist while writing this, especially to ‚Still falling for you‘ [the song was my inspiration for writing this in the first place])

🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷

Henry never liked other women flirting with him in front of his girlfriend. Why would they do that? To discomfort his girlfriend, to prove they would be better for him, out of pure ignorance for the other woman?

He didn't know, but no matter why, he didn't like it one bit. You knew that. And even if you didn't, you had enough dignity not to do it. You just thought about how uncomfortable you would be in their situation.

You and Henry knew each other for what felt like your whole life. The earliest your memory went, was playing with him on the set of some movie your dad directed and Henry stared in as one of the kids.

There were lots of comments that you had to suppress in front of his girlfriend and him, joking with his brothers instead, it just wouldn't be appropriate. It would sound too intimate for you. And by all means, you respected his girlfriends and never wanted to discomfort them.

Henry wasn't what some would call a playboy, but he had some girlfriends now. Even if you had feelings for him way before he even met some of them, why be rude to them.

But breaking up with his latest girlfriend, really had its effects on Henry.

He hadn't been as happy as he usually was. When you had visited him, even Kal seemed to be upset because his dad was so different to how he usually was.

He didn't attend the first dinner of the month at his brothers, a tradition you shared with his family and him. Usually all the kids, his brothers and their wives would be there, and Henry would bring Kal with him. Much to the kid's joy.

So when he didn't attend that dinner this month, you knew his mind was still occupied with whatever storm was raging inside him. He had told you that he was okay, still a lot on his mind but he assured you, after worried looks and lots of long phone calls, that it wasn't because of the breakup. Which you thought was at least something in the right direction of getting your old ‚bear Henry‘ back, wasn't it?

You hadn't expected another dinner so close after the last, but you loved them, and so you didn't complain. Rather, you accepted Elisa's invitation to join her and the others for dinner that night.

You were greeted by Kal, excitedly barking when you opened the door. "Hey, bub. I missed you!" you chuckled as you bent down to pet him, as he deserved.

„Is your dad here too?" you asked him in a whisper, smiling at his loyal eyes. Kal seemed to understand exactly what you meant, as he ran to the kitchen. „'Ello!,, you shouted from the doorway.

You hadn’t expected Henry today, but your heart had skipped a beat when Kal welcomed you instead of the others.

„I was greeted by the sweetest dog I know, and he told me you’d be here." you jokingly greeted everyone. „Hey!" Maia greeted you with a hug as she was closest to you. Henry's gaze lingered on you the whole time.

The others followed right after.

So did dinner and it was wonderful. The guy's cooking skills were restaurant-worthy, and you almost drooled when you saw the plates Henry and Charlie brought in from the kitchen. When everyone had finished, you volunteered to wash the dishes. Eventually, every one of you did it once and after some discussion on whether to let you do it alone, Ashlyn won and helped you.

"l'm going to join the others outside, you wanna come?" she asked you, putting the towel back on the counter.

„Yes, I'll just catch a blanket."

„Alright." Ashlyn chuckled at you.

They all knew how easily you would be cold outside, even in the summer. But you didn't just want to grab a blanket, you wanted to look for Henry.

After he got sent out of the kitchen when he wanted to help you and Ashlyn, you haven't seen him nor heard him with the others.

You saw Kal sleeping on his big cushion next to the couch in the living room. That's where you found Henry too. You walked towards him, coming from behind without much sound.

„Hey." you said, almost in a whisper as to not ruin the mood. It wouldn't have suited the situation to talk loudly. He turned around from where he was sitting on the couch, one leg resting on his knee.

Henry looked up at you and lightly smiled, „Hey“. You knew he was still in thoughts, his features gave it away without him wanting to.

You sat down beside him on the couch and just looked at the fire burning. It wasn't cold yet, actually, it was the middle of august. But the fire wasn't on for warmth but light.

He hadn't turned on any other source of light.

You didn't say anything, you didn't even look at Henry.

It was like so many times before when you've sat next to each other. But yet it was so different. Normally you talked about god knows what. Not this time. It was hard to explain, but you knew he would say something when he felt like it. Sometimes you didn't need to talk to comfort the other.

„I put the kids to bed." he calmly told you. At the sound of his voice you looked up at him, Henry looking at the fire while he said it, but his eyes wandered to meet yours. One of his arms rested on the back of the couch, his leg still draped on his knee as he looked at you.

When you've come in you sat down, your legs were outstretched but now you bent your knees and rested your feet on the couch, facing Henry.

„Yeah? Did you tell them one of the superman stories?" you chuckled at him. „Of course I did." Henry grinned.

But rather than cracking another joke, his smile faded.

You mirrored his expression with worry.

You propped your head on your hand, lightly tilting it to the side.

„l'm here if you want to talk. I can just listen, you know, maybe it'll make you feel better."

„I know. Thank you twinkles."

Your heart missed a beat at the nickname. You couldn't remember when he called you twinkles the last time. It used to be a joking gesture of affection, not meant to be romantically at all. That's what you thought, at least.

„Like a bear?" „Yes, you're built like one, and you do have quite a bit of hair on you." you chuckled, taking another mouthful of your pudding. „Whatever you say, twinkles." Henry huffed, „But you’ve got something on your nose.“ A smile spread across his lips as you squinted.

„Really, where? I can’t see it,“ you tried to wipe it off, unsuccessfully. „Right,“ Henry wiped the pudding off your nose, „here.“. You stared into his eyes as he was only inches away now, „Thank you.“.

„No problem, twinkles.“ he said, his voice a little raspy. Henry blinked a few times before he was back to his joking self with you, „I should call you Rudolph instead of twinkles.“

„Haha,“ you laughed ironically, „the pudding isn’t even red.“ But he only winked at you with a grin.

His eyes captivated your own. Like you've seen them for the first time, not like you've known them for as long as you could think. Neither of you knew what you were doing, but neither of you wanted it to stop.

You blinked a few times, the sound of the crackling fire drowning out, and the only thing you could focus on was Henry. You hadn't moved the slightest as you could feel his breath on your lips.

Still not breaking eye contact, Henry moved his hand to yours, which was still resting on the couch next to you. You lifted one finger and intertwined it with his.

Your hands found each other as you still looked deeply into each other's eyes.

It didn't need one of you to move closer as your lips met.

His lips felt heavenly on yours. Like a reward, a missing piece, like they belonged right where they were in this moment.

Your lips were heaven to him. Your scent captivated him, and to finally know the taste of your lips almost made him moan into the kiss.

Neither of you held back after your lips met in a light and soft kiss. Your intertwined hands loosened in a hurry as you wrapped your hands around his neck, and Henry's hands gently yet demanding cupped your face to pull you closer to him.

It was like you two were drowning and dying of thirst at the same time. You moved closer to him and Henry grabbed your hip with one hand, the other still caressing your cheek. Your lips must've been swollen by now.

His scent gave you a feeling of safety.

His tongue gently brushed over your lips. Your fingers found his curls and lightly tucked at them. All you felt was him. You could only feel Henry at that moment, all you breathed, all you needed, he was everything.

You wished never needing to breathe again, so this could last forever.

Henry quietly whispered your name against your lips, "'m sorry, I…"

„No, don't be." you whispered back.

He exhaled and looked surprised. The next moment you reunited your lips again. Giving him a peck before finally trying to catch your breath. As did Henry. You were still so close to him, his breath tickled your cheek.

Catching you off guard, Henry grabbed your hips with his large hands. Ang yet again you just loved to compare him to a bear.

Henry lightly pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you. You did the same and pressed your body against his, your arms tightly wrapped around his torso. Henry nestled his head in your hair, breathing in the familiar scent he loved so much. „I should've done that sooner." he whispered.

„You can do it again anytime." you smiled up at him. His chest moved under you at his chuckle.

Your head rested on his chest, and Henry planted loving kisses on your hairline. You just sat there wrapped in each other's arms, no one saying a word, just enjoying being so close.

„I knew it." Elisa whispered to the others. They decided to look for you two on their way to bed. It had gotten late and neither Henry nor you had joined them outside.

Henry's two oldest brothers had bet that you were sleeping on the couch, and Henry had fallen asleep with one of the kids. Elisa, Maia, Ashlyn and the other two Cavill men on the other hand had bet that they would find you together. As they did.

You were curled up on Henry's big frame, his arms wrapped around your body protectively. Both your breaths steady.

„Let's go to bed." Ashlyn chuckled, grabbing her husband's hand. „They look pretty comfortable, no need to wake them up."

To say it was the most comfortable you've slept in a long time would be an understatement.

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

#e writes #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill x fem!reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #rp fic #fluff #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fluff #em's masterlist

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allaboutnayeli · 11 months ago

Note

I neeeedddd a fanfiction of r being really shy and they just started dating (elisa asked because r can't even look at her eyes).

Also, no need to do it if you don't have time. I know you probably have finals and even other stuff x

eye contact is overrated ( elisa de almeida x reader )

prompt: you can't seem to stop being shy around elisa even after she asks you out.

author notes: thank you for the request! and ty for being appreciative of my time but tbh i have more free time than i should. i hope this is what you wanted. i finished this at literally 4am so give me slack on any grammar/spelling errors. enjoy!

you wouldn't consider yourself to be a shy person. your personality was bold and strong on the pitch while loud and talkative off of the pitch. nobody would consider you shy expect for one person: elisa de almeida who just so happens to be your now current girlfriend. even after getting with her, you're still so shy.

it truly isn't your fault. elisa is the first woman to make you feel this way; nervous in a good way. the first to make your heart flutter when she gives you a quick smile. it's 100% elisa's fault for being so beautiful like she is. that's why you always look away when she tries to hold eye contact or use to go silent in the locker room when she walked past you. she was too beautiful for her own good.

when you first moved clubs to paris saint germain from wolfsburg, you were understandably nervous. not nervous enough to not be your bubbly self, but just nervous enough to try to calm down that really loud part of your personality when first meeting the team.

that didn't last long once you got around jackie and ramona. the team overall was full of some big personalities, but those two really bought out your loud side. all day at practice you were playing around and almost had to be separated from jackie so you could focus. that energetic, fun energy followed you all day until it was time to leave.

you were changing out of your practice kit, humming a soft tune. lost in your own world as you put on your tshirt than your sweatpants. you turn as you feel someone's presence behind you. there stood elisa who smiles at you. that stupidly attractive smile. your loud personality from earlier crawls into a shell as you give her a shy smile back.

"can i borrow a comb?" the french player asks, again smiling that stupidly attractive smile at you. it takes a moment for you to just nod and grab your comb from your bag. awkwardly smiling as you hand her the comb. you really was just trying to cover up how feeling her hand against yours makes your heart flutter. "thanks," elisa says before walking off. probably to go find a mirror to look at.

that first interaction set the tone for all the interactions between elisa and you after. the french player would try to make conversation with you and the most she would get was short answers.

at first, she thought you hated her or something like that. you were overly bubbly and friendly with everyone else but her. it made elisa nervous as usually she was easily liked. that's just how her personality is: likeable. what did she do wrong to make you that uncomfortable around her?

it wasn't until she started to notice that you would blush and look away at her when she would greet you. elisa realized you weren't shy out of discomfort, but just out of gay panic. that changed everything for her. now she was determined to get you to open up to her and become closer to you. that shy smile of yours was doing things to her heart so elisa thinks it's only fair that you talk to her for more than five minutes.

instead of talking to you in person which just ends up with you running off, elisa took a different approach and messaged you on instagram. talking to someone online has always been less nerve wracking than in person so it only took a few messages for elisa to see your real personality. that loud, talkative y/n everyone else got to see.

in person you still shyed away from her, but a win was a win to her.

eventually after months of talking back and forth on instagram, you start to open up to elisa in person. happily jumping up on her in celebration after making a great goal. being able to hold an actual conversation with her in person as long as y'all's other teammates are around.

still you have fallen hard for her. you wanted to take you two's friendship to the next level. however you would rather crawl into a hole than ask elisa out. that was going way too far for your (gay panic induced) shyness.

good thing elisa felt the same way and was actually bold enough to take that leap. one day, she invited you out for lunch. despite being incredibly nervous (due to gay panic) you accepted and dressed in a cute white crop top with some flared jeans. doing a half up half down hairstyle for the occasion.

when you arrived at the restaurant, your heart rate was a little higher than it should be but you pushed though and sat down at the reserved table elisa got. she sits infront of you, smiling with that beautiful smile of hers. "thanks for asking me out to this place. it's so nice," you say, almost stumbling over your words. "it's really nothing. i just wanted to spend more time with you" elisa replies back. those words almost had you running out of the restaurant (again gay panic). thankfully you stayed sat in your seat.

the date (would it even be considered one? you didn't ask her) goes well. with you two enjoying a nice lunch before heading off to an aquarium. elisa was particularly obsessed with the sea otters. forcing you to stay by their exhibit longer than needed, but you dealt with it for her. the little critters were cute anyways. you have actually gotten more comfortable talking to her in person now. however eye contact was out of the question, with you always acting interested in other things when you two would speak to each other. it couldn't be helped in all honesty. elisa was just too pretty and her eyes were like the sun in your eyes, so obviously you have to look away; staring at the sun isn't good for you.

the sun was setting as you two step out of the aquarium. hands interlocked as y'all walk to elisa's car. you were actually the reason you two were holding hands right now and it took all of your willpower to power though all that gay panic and take elisa's hand in yours. elisa's already high confidence level climbed that day.

once inside of her car, she starts to talk excitedly about the day. with you saying a few words here and there but listening intently. hearing her sound so excited made you smile.

"the best part of today was definitely the otter exhibit. those little guys are incredibly cute," elisa rants off as she continues to drive. you nod in agreement. "yeah but the penguins were cuter in my opinion," you say. giggling once elisa steals a glance at you. obviously offended.

"why would you even say that? the otters beat out penguins by a long shot" she says. the empathizing in her words almost made you agree, but no. the penguins still have your heart. "they really don't but whatever you say" you shrug before leaning your head against the window. elisa gives you the side eye but has to focus on the road in the end so she will definitely be bringing this back up at a later date.

it takes twenty minutes to get to your place from the aquarium.

elisa being the gentleman she is walks you to your door. "thank you for taking me out today. it was fun," you smile warmly at her. smiling even brighter when she leans in for a hug. happily letting her take you in her arms. the warmth of the embrace almost makes you scream (in gay panic), but you'll save that for later when you're by yourself.

"i enjoyed myself so thank you actually" the french player says against your ear. you could hear the smile on her lips as she speaks, "i have a question for you, y/n."

elisa pulls away from the hug. with her hands still holding onto your arms. she tries to hold eye contact with you (because that's more romantic) but you look away. "what is it?" you say quietly. she looks at you for another moment before saying, "can i be your girlfriend?"

you almost ran into your house out of pure panic. instead you pull her back into a hug. "duh" you giggle.

now you and elisa have been together for a month. that overly shyness of yours have faded a bit. however you still blush when elisa holds your hand in public or when she hugs you from behind or kiss you or pretty much do anything couples usually do.

maybe you shyness hasn't faded, but you are way more comfortable with holding a conversation with her. you start to initiate some affection like a few hugs and kisses but it's mostly elisa being her bold self that starts things.

it's a nice evening of having a movie marathon when the fact you still can't hold eye contact with your girlfriend reveals itself. you are laying on her top of her with your head on her chest as you two stare at the tv. the monster high movies from your childhood playing on the screen. elisa seems to be enjoying the movies despite them not being apart of her childhood at all. clawd is her favorite by the way. she turns to look down at you.

"babe.." she says quietly, chuckling once you look up at her. immediately you look away the moment y'all's eyes meet. it's not your fault you're too shy for all that still. elisa just smiles, mentally reminding herself to break you out of that shy shell of yours, as she guides you to face her again.

leaning down slightly as she kisses you. good thing kisses don't require eye contact.

#elisa de almeida #elisa de almeida x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #frawnt

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gothicprep · 3 years ago

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Meditations on True Crime: A Very Long Post

In around February of this year, I was researching a potential video related to how true crime media portrays websleuths, contrasted against their efficacy in each specific case. The introduction was a brief primer on the genre’s evolution, beginning with its general association with low-budget LifeTime films, to a hobby with more dignity than that. I remember finding an article talking about Serial, and there was some commentary in there from another large true crime podcast host.

I didn’t think it was particularly useful for my purposes, but it said something to the effect of “true crime as a hobby can help women reconcile the trauma related to being in a world that is so hostile to us.” I rolled my eyes at it. It seemed dishonestly saccharine, like it was giving a sort of post-hoc legitimacy to just enjoying whodunnits. I didn’t think about it again for around seven months after I’d read it.

One of the subjects that I intended to talk about was Elisa Lam’s death and the online reaction to it. The story was adapted into a Netflix series a few months prior, and I was freshly reminded of how poorly it all sat with me. If you aren’t familiar with her name, she disappeared in Los Angeles’s Cecil Hotel in 2013, and her disappearance went viral after the respective police department release footage of her behaving strangely in an elevator. The case attained quick viral status and extensive discussion, due to the nature of the video and the hotel’s morbid history. When her naked body was discovered in a rooftop water tank a few weeks later, speculation exploded. But an autopsy isn’t an immediate followup, and the online sleuths would lose themselves to their imaginations in the time between. Many people wanted the murder solved, but many let their speculation fly off the rails. Shady hotel coverups. Metal musician murderers. Fear of the homeless. Ghosts. Demons. Government tuberculosis research. The gang was all there.

If you weren’t active online back then, it’s difficult to properly convey how huge this all was. Everyone was expecting Elisa to have been murdered. Iron-clad. Beyond the shadow of a doubt. She wasn’t. Her death was ruled an accident. She had a severe case of bipolar disorder and she wasn’t taking her medication. The severity of her illness was also not previously disclosed to the public. The working theory is that she experienced a manic episode with psychotic features, climbed in the tank in this state, to eventually strip out of her clothes in late stage hypothermia and drown there. It’s a horrific and painful way to die. All that’s left of you is water contamination – insult to fatal injury.

People weren’t happy with this, but not out of any sympathy for Elisa. There was palpable rage from many who had been following the case. No, she was definitely murdered. No, her killer needs to be brought to justice. No, this isn’t the real story. I don’t like it. I’m not satisfied. There needs to be an ending better than this.

Tragedy isn’t exactly in the habit of being kind to us.

When news of Gabby Petito’s disappearance was spreading, I noticed a lot of similarities between hers and Elisa’s. A woman in her early 20s vanishes while traveling, under very unusual circumstances. Footage was released during both investigations, which portrayed these women in mentally vulnerable states. The story was viral online. People rifled through Gabby’s instagram in the same way they did with Elisa’s tumblr. Social media detectives established an inappropriate amount of investment. Everyone is sure of a specific outcome. The family deserves answers.

Let’s talk about answers for a second. I’d like you to spitball a comprehensive explanation for this one: how could something like this happen? I’m not looking for a “how” in terms of events or circumstances. In this case, this isn’t a question. It’s a protest of the unfairness of it all. My daughter. My sister. My friend. Someone who meant so much to me. It’s a prayer to a vacant sky. It’s not a question, it’s agony. Nothing shy of resurrection can feel like justice. Even if the case leads to a criminal trial and conviction, it does nothing to fill the void loss burns within us. There is no good answer, because there aren’t answers at all.

Let’s talk about ourselves for a second. I noticed many people draw parallels between what they’d seen on the bodycam footage and their own experience with abusive partners. “This could have been me.” Do you really think this is appropriate? Could have been, would have been – these are statements with hypothetical validity. It has nothing to do with you. To emotionally identify with someone does not evidence anything. You’re here. She’s gone. This isn’t about you. She isn’t in the position where she can co-sign anything you say. If she can’t speak for herself, don’t invoke her.

Let’s talk about true crime for a second. It’s funny how true crime marketed to men has a distinctly different texture than true crime marketed to women. The former seems to involve knocking the perpetrator down a peg. It portrays them as something worth our disgust and ridicule. The latter tends to foster emotional identification with the victim. Podcasts and other media in this category tend to be by women, for women, and generally discuss women. This story is presented as catharsis for women who see themselves as similar to them. This woman is no longer a person, but an idea. And it makes me think of that stupid article quote that I resent myself for not having bookmarked. This is reconciliation. These women, in their passing, can be a motivating factor for us to break up with that one dumbass guy. I’m so happy this was a wakeup call. I’m so happy that this made me think about my own experiences. I’m so happy that this did so much for me. Sure, someone actually died, but what is that when compared to my own self-actualization?

I made a comment on Twitter about how disgusted I was with how people spoke of Gabby in such an evasively self-interested way, and someone who likely was of no relation to her interjected with how the family deserved the truth. Truth? What truth? What peace will grisly details give them? Is there any meaningful difference between knowing your loved one died of murder or collapsed from exposure? Or are you just a nosey person who’s projected an inappropriate emotional dog in this fight? Do you want answers for her family, or for your own curiosity?

I really don’t trust shit like that, nor am I willing to give leniency to people who say such things. I think we’ve been conditioned to relate to dead women in a way that’s completely separate from who they actually were. Alive, they’re deep, multifaceted individuals, with an array of likes, dislikes, quirks, and endless little details. Dead, they’re a concept to serve a purpose. The purpose is generally a form of narrative catharsis. The creep gets thrown in prison. A woman’s abusive partner gets the comeuppance he deserves. The story needs a good ending. The story needs an ending that satisfies me. People aren’t stories. Life is not a novel.

The real trauma of others will never belong to you. This not your therapy tool or plaything. This is real pain that will never be theoretical for plenty of people. Know your place. Keep your distance. Don’t objectify the dead.

#you know i'm going for the jugular if i bother to punctuate my posts #also do take my warning: it is long

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deadinside-butstill-horny · 4 years ago

Text

The Night We Met

Part One - The Night We Met

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 5.3k

Summary: Murphy's sister travels to Colombia after realising Steve might not quite be A-Okay and meets the Javier Peña.

Content Warnings: 18+ Smut-ish (I wouldn’t wanna read it out to my mom), dry humping, dirty talk in Spanish which reader doesn’t understand so does it really count?, gratuitous love of the black shirt from the torture scene.

AO3

MASTERLIST

Author Note: So here is my return to writing! The word count got away from me but I loved every second of it. Always after prompts, so drop me a message on here if you'd like to see anything in particular. If it's in my wheelhouse, you'll definitely see it.

Pedro in the black shirt in this scene is what inspired me to write this, I can’t lie.

If you were brutally honest with yourself, this spur of the moment decision may have been a mistake.

Other people could make these choices and not have that nagging feeling in their gut from the second they booked their fuckin' airline ticket. You had attempted to grab life by its metaphorical horns and go and sort this shit show out by yourself, but after your momentarial bravery was used up, all that was left was a crippling anxiety that threatened to send you into a full scale panic attack if you thought too hard about the fact you were following your big brother to Colombia.

Yes, Colombia. You, a U.S. national with no particular interest in hunting Pablo Escobar, had decided to vacation in sunny, crime ridden Bogotá on a whim.

You were fuckin’ dumb.

Sarcasm aside, you weren’t actually here on vacation, you were going to check on Stevie. Your brother, one of the DEA agents assigned with taking down Escobar.

You’d been worried about him for a few months, it had sounded like he was dealing with heavy shit in South America, you knew that was the job, but he was still your brother.

His calls had gotten less and less frequent until he stopped returning them all together and the only reason you knew he was alive were your pep-talks with your sister-in-law, trying to help her keep her shit together, but hell, you weren’t a therapist or a miracle worker. So when Connie rang asking to stay at your place you had obliged and she had returned to Miami a mere shell of her former self.

After a mammoth amount of prodding over the course of two days you managed to wring the truth out of her, not the nuggets of information she had given you over the phone in hushed whispers during her time in Colombia but the whole messy story; the communist Elisa Alvarez, Steve’s kidnapping and the cold edges your brother was developing.

It was all you could do not to book the tickets there and then, but you held out and supported Connie in the ways Steve couldn't have, taking care of Olivia when you could and just trying your hardest to be there for her. Your presence alone seemed to be enough to help her through the days that followed. A week and a half after her return, you booked your flight to Colombia in secret.

You had to check on Steve.

He hadn’t answered a single one of your many many calls. You packed light and told Connie the morning of, and whilst she didn’t like it, she understood. You supposed that a part of her was relieved to know her husband would have someone in Colombia that wasn't there to kill him.

So here you sat, two hours into your flight to the paradise destination; Bogotá. Your brother's address scrawled on a scrap piece of paper in the one hand and a glass of cheap whiskey in the other. The alcohol did little to to calm your nerves, this was a dangerous place for a cop, let alone a fuckin’ clueless civilian.

When the plane finally touched down, you stood from your seat emptying the last few drops of whiskey which had tried to evade you onto your tongue, you picked up your backpack and queued to leave the plane.

The second you left the aircraft the humidity hit you like a brick wall, it was like all of the fresh air had been sucked out of the atmosphere. On a normal evening you would appreciate such a warm climate, but now the heat meant frustration to your tired brain and it only added to your baseline levels of anxiety as your hairline and upper lip were drenched as you walked through the arrivals gate.

Cards on the table; you didn’t have much of a game plan, you spoke no Spanish and stuck out like a sore thumb. You had the address but no means to get there, you didn’t relish the idea of getting in a taxi as a woman alone in a foreign country, but with little to no other options you went to hail one of the cabs that sat outside the airport.

Your fears turned out to be for naught, well not quite naught as the man had raked his eyes across your body for a large percentage of the trip in his mirror, but he had the good grace not to kidnap or murder you, which for you meant it was a successful journey, how low you had set the bar was just occuring to you.

After paying the gentleman he dropped you outside what appeared to Steve’s apartment building. You take a moment on the pavement to recollect yourself ready for your reunion. Peeling your denim jacket off, you decide instead to wrap it around your waist, tying the sleeves securely. With a harumph, you grab the handle of your suitcase, and drag it behind you. Your success thus far gives you a second wind of determination.

Though apparently dumb luck can only get you so far, because after heaving your suitcase up a flight of stairs and rapping on the door of apartment 20 until your knuckles ached, it began to dawn on you, you had no clue if this was even the right building.

“Fuck.” you mutter to yourself, you should’ve rang Connie or tried Steve again when you landed, but you’d been so single minded in carrying out your plan all common sense had apparently abandoned you. So with a million different scenarios of things you could’ve done better playing out behind your eyes you dragged your suitcase to the small lobby of the building, where the front door stood.

You huffed and dropped onto the bottom step in surrender, not quite sure where to go from here.

Weeks of anxiety and worry finally took their toll on your body as reality set in, and as it did so you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation you’d put yourself in. A light chuckle escaped your body as you held your face in your hands,you rubbed at your eyes as a way of refreshing yourself before sighing and leaning back.

You must have sat with your head in your hands for around three hours before anyone of note arrived, you had received strange looks from residents in their comings and goings as they stepped around you, your expectant looks turned to disappointment when you realised they weren’t Steve. In fairness, you, a gringa sitting on the stairs at 2am, most likely wasn’t a daily occurrence to these homeowners.

By the time he came through the door, your eyes were closed and your head was leant on the bannister, trying to get what little rest you could. Your eyes opened a crack to see a man and a woman enter the building and turn right, the man had his arm around her as he stared at you in confusion, the look was so quick you may have missed it if you blinked, but they were talking in low whispers of Spanish and from the looks of things he didn’t give you a second thought.

So you extended him the same courtesy and shut your eyes once again, you heard the metal jangling of keys going into the lock, the sound of smacking lips and then the door was closed. You figured that was the end of it, instead you heard hurried footsteps coming towards you, your eyes shot open as he rounded the corner.

“Estás bien?” The man questioned. It took you a moment to realise he was talking to you, as you took him in you were struck by your stupidity, how could you have dismissed this man so quickly even in the throes of a mental breakdown. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own as you realised he was waiting for a response.

“Uh… no hablo... español?” you pretty much asked him, cringing internally at your butchering of the most basic sentence of this gorgeous strangers language, his lips quirked at your mumbles making his mustache raise on one side with his smirk. Now, you’d never been a fan of a mustache, Steve and your father had both taken to styling their facial hair in such a way, and as a rule of thumb they were a big no-no. But my god. This man made that mustache his bitch and that bitch worked for him.

“You’re American?” He questions, smirk dropping along with his eyebrows in confusion as his brain processes the information.

“Oh thank god and Jesus fuckin’ christ above. You’re American!” Your timid nature had given way to pure unadulterated relief. “Stevie, Steve Murphy, he lives in this building, yeah?”

“Yeah… Stevi...Steve lives here- I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” He asks with a puzzled look and a shake of his head, there’s an air of distrust about him for some strange reason.

“I’m Y/N Murphy, I’m his sister.”

“Sister? Mierda... does he know you’re here?”

“Nope,” You pop your P as you shrug at the man before you with false nonchalance. “He’d have to answer the phone to me or Connie to know that now, wouldn’t he?”

“Steve.” The stranger sighed, annoyed.

“Sorry, who are you?” You asked, yourself becoming more bemused by the man by the second.

“I’m Steve’s partner, Javier.” He held out his hand which you were more than happy to take in a shake, his tan hand was soft yet strong as it held your own captive within it. “C’mon in I’ll give him a call, God knows what time he’s planning on getting back.”

“Uh, I don’t want to interrupt…” You mumble, waving your free hand vaguely towards where you knew the woman was waiting for him, making him smirk once again.

You were beginning to think that the sarcastic raise of his mouth was just his default resting face.

“You’re not interrupting anything.”

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘cause I’d think it to. This is how people die in America, let alone fuckin’ Colombia, but if it's a choice between dying at the hands of a gorgeous man who seems to know your brother or a stray that wonders in through the non-descript lobby door then you’d rather go out with a nice view, even if he did have a girlfriend.

If you had to gamble, you’d say you had a damn good chance of making it out of this apartment alive.

So you nodded and used the hand he hadn’t released yet to pull yourself up into a standing position. He wasn’t particularly tall but he still towered over you, your eyeline gave you a great view past his black shirt which was unbuttoned quite liberally, you assumed that was courtesy of the woman he’d entered with.

“Thank you,” you nodded at him with a genuine smile of relief. He didn’t reply, only grabbed the handle of your pull along suitcase before extending his arm towards his apartment and motioning to wordlessly say, after you.

Now you know how people say when you can feel a stare? You had the sensation before, but as you leaned over to pick up your backpack from the bottom step, you felt his eyes laser focus on your denim clad ass. You turned your head in disbelief and found his eyes still lingered there for a moment before meeting your own. Unbelievable. Part of you was flattered, the other part was bemused that he had a beautiful woman in there waiting and here he was ogling you.

You rolled your eyes, instilled with a new confidence as you turned and walked towards his apartment, you felt his eyes follow your form once more.

Steve’s hot partner was an ass man... Good to know.

...

As it turns out Javier’s girlfriend, or what you we’re starting to think was more of a one night stand, was not happy with the situation at all, you came to this discovery as Javier pointed you to the sofa before beginning arguing with her in hushed Spanish, the beautiful woman huffed and sent a dirty look your way before storming out and slamming the door behind her, with enough power to make it shake in its bearings. You raised your eyebrows at Javier from your seat. He shook his head with a sigh and began lighting up a cigarette, he turned and offered you one.

“No thanks, I quit.”

“Woman with an iron will?”

“Not quite,” You whisper, shaking your head.

He smiles before clearing his throat and moving over to pick up his landline. Javier presses a combination of buttons, before putting it to his ear and blowing the smoke from his lungs. His eyes met yours as the phone rang, he gave you reassuring wink.

“Murphy? … Yeah… you need to get back to your place now... You’ve got a guest.... No … come find out why don’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from his lazy tone, his voice was so smooth. It was like chocolate on gravel, you could listen to him talk for hours, which led your mind down that deep dark hole of what he sounded like during more carnal acts, he’d be a talker, for definite, what with all that confidence and swagger. “‘Kay… I’ll see you soon.”

Shaking your head you centred yourself, it had been a dry patch for you. You needed to calm down and not throw yourself at your brother's partner, even if he just so happened to be the first man you had any interest in to show you attention in months.

“He’s on his way,” He confirmed what you already knew but you liked hearing him speak so you nodded in thanks. An awkward silence filled the air for a few moments, as you two perfect strangers shared one another's company.

“Drink?” He offered pointing at the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

“God, yes.” You all but moaned at the offer. Javier chuckled, and grabbed a second glass from his cupboard, before pouring you both a generous serving. He walked around the back of the sofa, and passed you the glass of liquid gold and took a seat next to you. Close enough to initiate something, but not touching, quite a respectful distance.

Initiate something? God Y/N, get your mind out of the gutter. This poor man had only invited you in because you were his partner's sister and he was doing the decent thing.

“Uh… The television work?” You ask, pointing at the empty screen.

“I didn’t realise you could speak Spanish…” His voice was dripping with false surprise, mocking your earlier attempts at the language, though he reached across and switched the box on with the remote, he began flicking through the channels so quickly he almost gave you a headache.

“Oh yes, I’m very proficient, I just didn’t want to intimidate you earlier. Hola Señor Javier.” You say continuing his ruse. He chuckles at your words, it's a deep warm noise that shakes his entire frame. You were definitely thinking about adding Javier’s voice to your top ten list of favourite sounds.

He flicks through the channels, for a few seconds before sighing and dropping the remote in your lap. Taking your assignment seriously, you sit up, bringing yourself a few inches closer to the man next to you, purely accidentally of course and begin flicking through the channels as Javier had done moments before, though 3am TV scheduling left a lot to be desired.

News, News, Colombian QVC, News, News, Soap opera. Bingo!

“Ah, now we’re talking.” You mumble, eyes stuck on the screen of the Colombian Soap opera playing. The two of you sat in silence once again as you slowly sipped on your drinks watching drama play out.

You watched in silence for around ten minutes, not understanding a single word of what was being said. The scene was on two latino actors sitting in a bedroom. The woman was sat on the bed being confronted by the man in a serious tone.

“What is she saying?” You question narrowing your eyes at the beautiful woman's tone. Javier, who had been watching your reactions the whole time as you got into the awful tv show scrambled as he tried to listen and translate the woman's words.

“Uh… her dads an alcoholic and she’s trying to support her son… that guy didn’t know about the son... I think… she was happy living a double life without the worry and she wants him to forgive her and start over…” Javier translated, giving you the general cliff notes.

“Oh shit,” You gasped at his words, but your attention diverted to the screen where the two had continued their heated argument and began kissing or rather where the man was devouring her neck, “I’m getting vibes that he might be open to forgiving her.”

You chuckled at your own joke, as did Javier. Though this time when his body shook his bare elbow touched your own.

How was he so goddamn warm?

All he was wearing was a black button down shirt. One that looked to be the wrong size it was so tightly fitted- not that you were complaining about the view. My God, were you horny today.

You took a gulp of your drink, trying to refocus for the third or fourth time this evening, trying so desperately to reign in your inner school girl and focus on the television, though that didn’t help as the actors were now eating one anothers faces on a bed. The silence was thick with tension, though that could’ve been entirely on you; one innocent touch of a man's elbow and you’re a blushing mess.

Get a grip Y/N.

The silence dragged on as you pretended to watch the soap opera you had absolutely no understanding of in a futile attempt to ignore the man next to you. You can only imagine what he thought of your levels of focus on the tv, as you stared at the box in the corner of the room like it was the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time and you were getting ready to write a full-scale analysis on the work of art.

Javier broke the tension in the room by finally asking the question that had been on his lips all evening.

“You came all the way to Colombia... Why?” Javier grabbed a cigarette off of the coffee table, placing his drink where the carton of smokes had been. He lit the stick and waited for your response, honestly, you were thrown. The question had come out of nowhere whilst you were still trying to analyse why exactly this man had such an effect on you when he was doing nothing but being a good host. You hastened to think up a half coherent reply before you just answered truthfully.

“Steve stopped answering the phone, I mean he’s always been shitty at checking in, even when he was in Miami. When he got here we’d have a catch up every week or so, we all know how dangerous it is for you guys over here, so we joked about calling it ‘the alive check’. For the last couple of months, I was checking in with Connie more than Steve but he’d still pick up once every week, without fail. Then four weeks ago the fucker stopped answering my calls all together and Connie showed up on my doorstep with Olivia in tow last week.”

“Look, you coming down here probably makes more problems than it solves, Steve’s a big boy if he doesn’t call to check in, it's probably ‘cause he’s busy... He’s-” Something about Javier’s dismissive tone rubbed you the wrong way, call it sleep deprivation or blame the weeks of stress, but you were tired of being called paranoid. You were not an overbearing mother hen.

“My brother always answers my calls. Or at least he used to. I can’t begin to understand what you guys are going through, but I’m not losing my brother to some piece of shit Colombian drug dealer.”

Javier raised his hands in mock surrender, cigarette still in mouth. “He’s actually more of a drug lord slash narcoterrorist, but-”

“How is he?” You interrupt Javier’s attempt at diffusing the situation with humor, turning to him on the sofa. You rearranged yourself, bringing your leg up so your knee touched his thigh as you gave him your full attention, you plucked the smoke from between his lips and held it between your two fingers as you spoke. “Tell me Steve’s fine. Tell me I’m worrying for nothing and I’ll get back on that plane and leave tomorrow morning."

You take one drag and offer it back to him, he accepts it, deliberately looking you in the eyes as he places the cigarette in his mouth, attaching his lips to where your own had been seconds earlier. He takes it from his mouth and stubs it on an ash tray that rests on the arm of the sofa, his focus is single minded on his task. The pressure in your lower stomach is mounting as you stare at the tanned man before you who is carrying out a menial task that has you more turned on than you’d ever admit.

When the red tip is extinguished thoroughly, taking much longer than you thought it needed to, Javi turns to you, his mahogany eyes have you pinned in your tracks. You found yourself admitting they were gorgeous for the second time this evening, they were the type of brown you could never quite describe, they had so much depth, not quite a chocolate, not quite coffee, they were rich and deep pools. They reminded you of the forest, not the green leaves but the earthy brown, the strong beams of wood that held everything up around it.

Javier's hand emigrated forward slowly, your eyes followed the movement in your peripheral but you didn’t dare look away from the pools of molasses as he reached to grip one hand at your denim thigh, his eyes roamed your face for any sign of this being an unwelcome approach and when he found none his other hand began its climb to rest on your jaw, just below your ear.

You couldn’t say if you moved towards him or if he advanced on you, all you knew was he was on you now as the tips of your noses rubbed against one another.

“Quiero saborearte…” He whispered so lowly you barely even heard it before he leaned in that last inch and captured your lips in a single, chaste kiss. Your lips connected and you realised the heat you had felt from his arms had been nothing. Fire coursed through your veins upon contact, surging through your blood and going south to a pressure that built in your lower stomach.

Your hand shot up to land on his collarbone, before you could even really consider your own actions you pulled apart until your foreheads were the only thing touching. He was intoxicating, you could lose yourself completely in this man, he somehow smelt like cinnamon, whiskey and sweat, a combination you’d never thought would send liquid fire through your central nervous system. You’d give anything to taste him properly, but this was wrong. So so wrong. This was your brother's partner, this was inviting complication to your door, when you were just here to check on Steve. You were here for Steve.

You were here for Steve...

“... This isn’t a good idea.” You all but whisper, closing your eyes. Regret pulses through your veins at your self imposed restraint.

“Never is.” He leaned forward and captured your lips. You didn’t have any fight left in you, exhausted and at wits end you embraced your spiral into stupidity instead and your hands glided across the clammy skin of his neck to grab at his short ink black hair. You wrapped your fingers around it to drag him closer to you, your lips clashed, all teeth at first but you didn’t care as his tongue began to fight against yours for dominance.

He tasted as good as you imagined, he was the right combination of sweet and bitter, with undertones of whiskey and tobacco on his tongue. Your response to his assault on your mouth told him it was go time, Javier pulled you into his lap and his hands lowered to your ass. Your body was flush with his own as your breasts pressed against his chest, you could feel every solid line of his lithe body against your own.

You licked at his honied tongue, before withdrawing and pulling his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking on the soft plush skin. His mustache tickled your upper lip, a sensation you weren’t used to but could so easily grow to love. This made him tighten his grip on your backside in response and he let out a throaty groan at the meat he found there, Javier was definitely an ass man, you felt his bulge pressing against your core as you both began grinding against each other in earnest. You felt like a horny teenager as you grinded on a man you barely knew.

You felt him grip at the bottom of your tank top and begin to lift it, except he stopped, and began to rub patterns on the stomach he exposed. Javier’s mouth descended from your lips to begin to suck and lick at your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his work as pleasure rippled throught your body. His hands slid the length of your body to grab at your chest, which conforming to every stereotype was heaving, he palmed your breast blindly as his face was still buried in your hair, sucking and kissing along to your ear, before he raised his mouth a mere inch and whispered “Te follaré toda la noche niña.”

He said it with such surety that your body convulsed in on itself without even needing to know what the man above you was saying. You could only hope it was absolutely filthy and profanity ridden, because then at least, the sentiment would be shared. He bit at the lobe of your ear before his hands left your breasts and travelled to the hem of your tank top, getting ready to pull it over your head.

It was strange to say that you remembered your brother was on his way here as a man tried to take your t-shirt off, but that’s just the way it went. You knew if that top came off, dry humping would be the most PG action of the night and if Steve turned up and found you mounted on his partner, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled.

You couldn’t stop yourself from stroking the man's hair whose face was planted in between your tits as his hips rose against your own pushing his hardened length up against the seams of your jeans, you gasped as he hit that sweet spot. You let out a noise that sounded like a wail. You wanted nothing more than to lie back and let this man have his filthy way with your body. And you know, from the hour you’ve spent with this man it would be phenomenally filthy. The kind of sex that would ruin all men for you, but no. You had to be a good sister. Like a fuckin loser.

Sighing, you threw your body sideways before you could change your mind and ended up on your back. Javier followed you, caging you with his frame as he covered your body with his own. Gripping your face like he was a starving man and you were the only sustenance he’d ever need. It would be so easy to get lost in him, to give in to that magic tongue but you couldn’t let this go any further so you placed a hand on his chest.

Taking your cue he paused his tongues assault on your mouth and stopped, resting his forehead against your own. You were both breathing heavily trying to come back down to reality, his eyes were no longer the chocolate brown you’d been comforted by when you met, but rings of obsidian staring into your soul. You wanted this man, my god you did. But this would make more problems for Steve.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, foreheads and bodies pressed against one another until both of your breathing evened out. The silence dragged, heavy in the air as you two strangers both waited for the other to break it.

“...Is Steve okay?”

“...No... He’s been fuckin’ mess ever since Connie left.” Javier sighed whilst closing his eyes and breathing deep. You raised your hands from his chest, which was difficult as he was crushing his body to yours and cupped his cheek, you joined your lips once more, much like the first kiss. This was sweet and there wasn’t a carnal appetite behind it but rather an understanding.

The loud knock on the front door startles you both as you’d been so wrapped up in one another you’d not heard the steps leading to it. The two of you split apart like a pair of guilty teens caught in the act. You both stared at each other for a second before he nods at you and walks to the front door whilst rearranging his bulge discreetly in his jeans, this was something you pretended not to see as you sat back up right on the sofa. You had only a moment to fix yourself, as you pulled your tank top from where it was hooked by your breasts and ran your fingers through your hair so you didn’t look like you’ve just had the ravaging of a lifetime.

Javier pulled open the door and you clutch your hands into your lap, not quite sure what kind of reception you were about to receive from your brother. You hear the two men greet one another in hushed whispers, you couldn’t make out Steve's voice much until you hear his voice clear as day “...what the hell was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You stand from your spot on the sofa and quickly realise the button on your jeans is undone; if you’re honest you don’t even know how he managed to do that without you noticing, even though it's not the time you take a solitary second to commend Javier on his artistry of disrobing a woman. Turning quickly you pull the rivet back through the hole and swing around as Steve crosses the threshold from the hallway.

Steve looks from you, to Javier and then back to you once more in complete surprise. It takes his brain a hot second to process that you’re here in front of him and in Colombia before he rushes you. Clutching you tight and hugging you to his chest. You hear something that sounds suspiciously like a sob leave your brothers chest before he collapses into you. The front door and Javier’s bedroom both in rapid succession, giving you the privacy you knew your brother would need after breaking down like this.

You couldn’t support Steve’s weight with your considerably smaller frame and the two of you fell to the ground as you held your broken brother. His body shook with silent sobs as he buried his face in your shoulder.

You said nothing as you held him and stroked his hair. In that moment you thanked your every instinct that screamed at you to come to Colombia.

This had definitely not been a mistake.

Part Two

#javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #narcos fic #pedro pascal x reader #I LOVE THE BLACK FUCKING SHIRT #narcos fanfiction #javier peña #murphy!reader

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pintsizemama · 3 years ago

Text

Heroes & Heartbreak

Chapter 4

Summary: The DEA agents find themselves in a difficult situation when Elisa, an M-19 operative, enters the picture. Ari’s anger at Javi comes boiling to the surface. Carrillo and Ari meet up with Javi for drinks…and drunken shenanigans ensue.

Pairings: Javier Peña x OFC Ariana Morgan—DEA Agent and daughter of Pablo Escobar

Fandom: Narcos

Rating: Explicit 18+ONLY

Word Count: 6,166

Warnings: language, communism, implied sex, jealousy, pining, angst, references to masturbation (m & f), drinking, drunken shenanigans, kissing, discussions of drug trafficking and violence...let me know if I missed anything, and I’ll happily add it here!

A/N: I’m playing fast and loose with the locations. I know it’s an hour plane ride or a ridiculously long car ride between Bogotá and Medellín, but for the sake of the story, we’re ignoring that fact for now. Lol Also, I apologize if my translations are wrong! Please let me know and I will correct!!!! 😘

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Javier

“What the fuck were you two thinking?” Ari hissed at her two partners, trying to keep her voice down. It had been a couple months since their raid on Tranquilandia. They were currently walking the embassy halls on their way to a joint meeting with the ambassador, CIA, and Mil Group. Ari had just found out that Javi and Steve were sheltering a woman named Elisa...who just happened to be a part of M-19, a communist organization.

“You are hiding a goddamn communist!” She whisper yelled. “Do your tiny brains have any fucking idea how serious this is?” She was furious.

“She can tie Escobar to the palace siege,” Javier told her quietly.

“If she can tie Escobar to the siege, I say we bring her in,” Steve tried again. Javier had been very resistant to this idea.

“Well, she’s M-19,” Javi told them. “Noonan would have to turn her over to the Colombian military, and then she gets disappeared. I’d like to avoid another Barry Seal situation.”

“So we’re gonna harbor a communist fugitive?” Steve asked. Javier stopped them from walking.

“Look,” he said, “all she did was warn us. She’s not on anybody’s radar. She’s not involved in anything.” Ari rolled her eyes. “What?” Javi said, noticing.

“Let me guess,” she said disdainfully. “She’s pretty.” Steve smirked and Javier scowled. “Stop thinking with your dick, Peña. I don’t feel like getting tried for treason because you want to fuck some bitch from the jungle.” Ari spat out angrily. She stormed off ahead of them. The men stared after her in shock.

“I mean, she has a point, Javi,” Steve said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Javi bit out before the two of them followed Ari into the meeting. The meeting turned out to be very informative. They discovered that not only was Elisa involved, she was one of the goddamn leaders. Javi could feel Ari’s eyes burning into him. He had never seen her so pissed off. She was usually the level headed one in the trio. Once the meeting was over, he hurried out of the room, hoping to avoid her. Back in their office he buried himself in paperwork to avoid her gaze. He could feel the rage radiating off of her for the rest of the day.

As soon as it was time to call it a day, he grabbed his jacket and fled the embassy. He knew he was being cowardly, but he couldn’t face Ari right now. He felt ashamed of what he was doing. He was risking all three of them for this woman. And the fact that he was sleeping with her, and Ari had immediately assumed it, burned him deep inside. He hated that he kept living up to her incredibly low expectations of him.

Later that night, he was laying in bed with Elisa, smoking a cigarette after they had just finished having sex. She had been staying in Connie and Steve’s apartment, but she came over to his place to fuck. They were discussing getting her out of Colombia safely. She was being stubborn and wouldn’t consider leaving. He was getting frustrated. He needed her alive. Her testimony could finally bring down Escobar. And now, knowing how much trouble she could get them into, and how pissed off Ari was at him for helping her, he wanted her gone as soon as possible.

He kept insisting he would get her to safety. Then Elisa told him she was not his responsibility, and he frowned. He felt as if it was his responsibility, but not in the way she insinuated. He didn’t harbor any real feelings for her. He wanted her intel. He wanted Escobar brought to his knees, but not at the expense of Elisa’s life. He wanted to keep her safe. After what had happened to Helena...well, he never wanted to feel that guilt again.

He was protective of his informants. For someone in his line of work, he cared too damn much, but not the way people assumed. He cared about his informants’ safety and what they could provide for him, but he never developed a deep connection to any of them, including the ones he fucked.

He knew, with every fiber of his being, there was only one woman he gave a shit about beyond what she could do for him. A pair of gorgeous violet eyes flashed in his mind. He could barely admit it to himself, but Ariana was the only one he cared about. He had never felt this way about anyone, not even Lorraine. He laid back, taking another drag of his cigarette. He couldn’t help but wish it was Ari’s naked body laying next to him right now. He needed to sort this mess out. He couldn't stand her being angry with him.

Ariana

Ari slammed the door of her apartment closed. She was still fuming from the meeting. She could not believe her partners were doing something so incredibly stupid. She couldn’t give two shits about communism, but it was a hot topic for everyone else in the US government. She knew they were all itching to put people away for any involvement with communists.

She was actively ignoring the glaringly obvious reason she was so angry. She was not jealous. She didn’t care what Javier did. She had heard plenty of his late night visitors through the shared wall of their apartments. So what if she always found a reason to go out when the sounds started filtering through? It had nothing to do with being jealous…it was just that she always remembered something she suddenly needed to do.

Yeah, she wasn’t jealous. She had no feelings for him beyond their partnership. Her body didn’t fill with warmth every time he smiled at her. She didn’t shiver when his hand brushed against her lower back. His deep, sexy voice did not send a thrill of pleasure straight to her core. And she absolutely did not think of him late at night in her bed while she sought pleasure from her own hand.

These were the lies she told herself every day so she could face him at work. Javier Peña was her partner, nothing more. She didn’t have any feelings for him…she hoped if she kept telling herself that, one day it would be true.

Javi had fled the embassy as soon as he could this afternoon. She knew he didn’t like how angry she was, but she couldn’t help it. The thought of him being in danger…it just made her furious. She wanted to keep him safe. She didn’t want to examine that emotion too closely. While she—somewhat—accepted her attraction to him, she wasn’t ready to admit there was more than lust involved in her feelings for Javi.

Ari had stayed a couple extra hours after Steve and Javi left. She needed to cool down some more, and she was desperately looking for a solution to their current predicament. Even though they were being stupid, she wasn’t about to leave her partners high and dry.

She scrounged through her fridge, hoping she could find something that remotely resembled edible. She was contemplating what she could make with almost expired milk, an avocado, and half a block of cheese when she heard muffled moans coming from the bedroom. She groaned and lightly slammed her head against the top of the open fridge door. Sounded like Javi was entertaining their secret communist.

Ari slammed the fridge shut and grabbed her keys. She was going out to eat. Not to avoid the sounds…no, not at all. She had no food. She had to go out. She grimaced, not believing her own lies.

Javier

A few days later they were called in for another meeting. Ari hadn’t said two words to Javier all day. It was killing him. Steve was still arguing with him about Elisa.

“Yeah, she’s a live hand grenade,” Steve bit out as they stepped out of the elevator.

“Well, she’s the only witness we got that can tie Escobar to the palace massacre,” Javi insisted.

“It’s hard to bring her in when she gets turned over to the Colombians, and she gets disappeared.. Are you ready for that?”

“No,” Javi said quietly.

“So, what’s our options, since we have none?” Steve questioned.

“Well,” Javi said, “we keep her in hiding until things cool down, and get her immunity in exchange for her testimony.”

“Are you gonna get us immunity?” Steve said angrily, stopping Javier from walking. He lowered his voice. “We are going to jail if we get caught with this woman.”

“Well, the next time your wife decides to bring home a human hand grenade, how about she hands it to you,” Javier said quietly before walking ahead of them.

“Are you fucking her?” Steve asked. Javi stopped and turned back.

“Sleep with a communist?” He answered. “That would be downright un-American.”

“You are so full of shit, Peña,” Ari spat out. She was still so fucking angry with him. His eyes widened at the venom in her voice. “Our bedrooms share the same wall, asshole.” Javier paled, realizing that Ari could hear everything that went on between him and his late night visitors. She stepped closer, toe to toe with him. She jabbed her finger into his chest. “If you get us arrested over this woman, I swear to God, I will chop your dick off before they bring us in.” She pushed past him, leaving Steve and Javi behind.

“Shit,” Javi swore. “I can’t stand her being this mad at me.”

“I know, man,” Steve said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s just get this shit sorted out as quickly as possible.” Javier nodded and they went into the meeting.

Javier

“Any intel to support the DEA theory that Escobar is behind the Palace of Justice siege?” Noonan asked the CIA.

“No, ma’am,” Russell stated. “Agent Peña claims to have an informant that can testify to that effect, but he hasn’t brought him forward.”

“In my book,” Wysession began, “there’s only two of them that know that.” Steve looked up, concern written on his face. “And one of them is Elisa Alvarez, girlfriend of Alejandro Ayala. The other is Ernesto Sobrino,” Steve, Javi, and Ari all shared a look, “a radical priest who gave shelter to M-19 fugitives in Los Altos comuna.”

“Is one of these people your informant?” Noonan asked Javier. Before he could answer Steve cut in.

“Ambassador,” Steve said with conviction, “this is...unofficial wiretap information. We, uh, intercepted a discussion between narcos.”

“What? Which narcos?” Noonan asked.

“It sounded like Pablo Escobar,” Steve told the room.

“We’re almost certain,” Javier continued. “It was, uh—,” he cleared his throat. “It was hard to tell. The...connection was bad.”

“It was Escobar,” Ari said suddenly. They all looked at her.

“You’re certain?” Noonan pressed. Ari nodded.

“I know my father’s voice, even with a bad connection.” Javier looked shocked that she would back him right now with how pissed she was.

“They were calling from Panama,” Javi concluded.

“Panama?” Noonan questioned.

“They know Galán’s gonna win the presidency, and they know that he’ll support extradition,” Steve told her, “and they’re not gonna sit around and await being sent back to the US.”

Russell and Wysession continued to argue with the DEA agents for several minutes. They refused to believe Manuel Noriega was working both sides. Steve scoffed quietly. The trio walked quietly back to their office. They sat at their desks and just stared at each other. Javi cleared his throat.

“Uh, thanks for that in there,” Javier told Ari. She nodded.

“We’re still partners,” she told them. “Even if I am pissed at you two.”

“Me?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised. “What did I do?”

“You went along with his dumbass plan,” Ari said, jabbing her thumb towards Javi.

“Well, I didn’t really have much of a choice,” he defended himself.

“I know,” Ari replied. “I understand the position you both are in. I’m still furious with you, but I get it. Can we just focus on getting this woman out of Colombia?”

“She won’t leave the country,” Javier said quietly.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ari said, rubbing her forehead. “I am so done with this shit. What the fuck is her plan then?”

“She wants to kill Escobar,” Javi said with a shrug.

“Great, not only is she an idiot, but she’s delusional too,” Ari muttered angrily.

“I have a contact in Cumaral that can hide her for now,” Javier told them. “We just have to get her there and we should be alright.”

“You know more than likely, she’s not going to be useful in taking down Escobar,” Ari told him. “No one is going to listen to a word she says.” Javier knew that was a very likely possibility, but he still couldn’t bring himself to turn her in, knowing the torture and death she would suffer. He had enough blood on his hands already.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “But we have to at least try.” Ari sighed.

“Fine,” she relented. “I’m in. But next time, you come to me before you two geniuses start some crazy ass shit like this. Fuck, I don’t know how you to two managed around here before I came around.” Steve and Javi grinned, glad to see a glimpse of their Ari back.

Javier

“I’ve gotta meet with Carrillo,” Javi told his partners. It had been a couple days since Ari had told them she was on their side with Elisa, but she still was cold towards Javi...and he hated it. He didn’t realize how much he enjoyed her warmth until it was taken away.

“Oh shit, I lost track of time,” Ari said, standing and grabbing her gun.

“You’re coming?” Javi asked. She nodded.

“Yeah, Carrillo told me to come by today too.”

“Of course he did,” Steve laughed.

“What?” Ari looked confused.

“Carrillo adores you, Ari,” Steve said. “I’m pretty sure you’re his favorite agent.” Ari smiled.

“That’s because I’m the best,” she teased. “Let’s go,” she told Javi. He nodded and they walked out of the embassy and into his Jeep. They were driving awhile before Javi got the nerve to say anything.

“Are we ok?” He said finally. Ari sighed.

“Yeah, Javi, we’re ok,” she assured him. He still didn’t look convinced. “I’m pissed about this whole situation, but I know how badly we all want to take down Escobar. Just do me a favor and stop thinking with your dick please?”

“I don’t think with my—” Javi started to argue. The look Ari shot him shut him up. “Fine,” he grunted. He stayed quiet for a minute. “I...I’m not fucking her anymore.” Ari snorted.

“Bored already?” She said sarcastically.

“It doesn’t feel right,” he told her.

“Well, she can get you arrested for treason,” Ari offered.

“It’s not that,” Javi said, thinking his next words over carefully. “I, uh, I can’t be with her knowing how pissed off you are at all this. I feel like I’m betraying you and our partnership.” Ariana was shocked at his words. She reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing gently.

“Thanks, Javi,” she said quietly. “That actually means a lot to me.” He smiled at her.

“Anything for you, querida,” he said, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles lightly. Javi breathed her scent in, becoming intoxicated by it. She always smelled so good—like lilacs and sunshine. Ari flushed at the gesture. He brought her hand back down and rubbed his thumb along her knuckles for a moment before releasing her hand.

“How do you do that?” Ari asked suddenly.

“Do what?”

“Make me not angry at you, just like that,” she snapped her fingers. Javier chuckled.

“It’s a gift,” he said with a sly smirk.

They walked into Carrillo’s office, and he stood when he saw them. There were several others in there, working diligently listening on wiretaps.

“Lo que está sucediendo, Carrillo,” (What’s happening, Carrillo) Javi said.

“Oye,” (Hey) Ari said warmly.

“Thank you for coming,” Carrillo offered. “I understand the narcos are back from Panama.” He shook their hands. Ari and Javi gave him a look.

“¿Entonces practicas tu ingles con nosotros?” (So you practice your English with us) Javi asked.

“Because these men aren’t cleared, and if we speak Spanish, it could get back to Pablo.” Carrillo responded. They nodded, understanding the need for discretion. Javi took his sunglasses off and hung them on his barely buttoned shirt.

“With the assassination of Galán, Escobar must have felt safe to return to Colombia,” Carrillo continued. “So I started this to monitor his sicarios’ communications.” He walked them over to one of the monitoring stations. “SAT phones, landlines, you name it. I’ve got dozens of wiretaps, but I’ve only managed to seize about ten kilos in the last month. Probably because I’ve listened to my own men tipping the narcos off. So, I’ve had to start surveilling them.” They walked back over to his desk. “I listen to them tell their girlfriends they’re afraid...cry to their mothers when one of our men gets shot down. But every once and a while...I hear them trade secrets with Pablo.” He placed a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

“Do your bosses know you’re doing this?” Javier asked. Carrillo smirked.

“I trust them even less,” Carrillo told them.

“Smart man,” Ari said with a smile.

“Most of my men are from here,” Carrillo continued, “where they can get to your mother, your aunt, your cousin. How do I fight...when my soldiers are already working for Escobar?” He sat down at his desk, looking slightly dejected. Javi flattened his palms on the desk and leaned over.

“Well, do they have to be from Medellín?” He asked. Carrillo considered it.

“My superiors have not been very helpful to me in the past,” he told them. “I doubt they’ll take this seriously.”

“Resign,” Ari said suddenly.

“What?” Carrillo asked, surprised.

“Threaten to resign your position. They can’t let that happen because it will reflect poorly on them. If they know all you want is to catch Escobar, and you don’t give a fuck about your career, and by extension, their career, they’ll listen.”

“It’s worth a try,” he replied after a moment.

“Alright, we gotta get outta here,” she told him. “Good to see you.”

“See you later,” Javier told him.

“Drinks tonight, princesa?” Carrillo called out before they left.

“As long as nothing comes up, sounds good,” she called back. She and Javi left his office. He was staring at her.

“What?” She said, noticing his gaze.

“You don’t like drinking with me anymore?” Javi asked, mock hurt on his face. Ari rolled her eyes.

“Of course I do, Javi,” she assured him. “You’re just usually...busy in the evenings.”

“Never too busy for you, hermosa,” he flirted. She laughed.

“Javi, I know you have fun with me, but if you had to choose between getting laid and having a drink with me, I know what you’re gonna pick.” He frowned, thinking over her words.

“I’d rather hang out with you,” he told her quietly.

“What?” She asked, shocked.

“Those women...it’s not what you think. Most of the time I’m gathering intel or establishing a connection to get them to gather intel. But other times, it’s just a way to deal with my frustration or tension or residual adrenaline. I don’t want to spend time with any of them. Do you understand?” The look on her face made him realize she didn’t understand. “I like being around you, Ari. You’re fun and sweet and smart as hell. I enjoy my time with you. So, yeah, I’d much rather have a drink with you than fuck some random woman.”

“Javier Peña, what has gotten into you today? Hmm?” She smiled brightly at him. “You’re being abnormally sweet and honest with me today...you’re starting to scare me.”

“Sorry I’m normally such an ass,” he said sheepishly.

“You’re not,” she assured him, “but I like this side of you a lot...Wanna join us for drinks tonight?” He gave her a huge smile.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Javier

Javier walked into the smoky bar, immediately scanning the crowd for two familiar faces. It only took a moment for him to find them, seated at a booth in the back corner.

“Peña!” Carrillo shouted over the noise of the bar. Javi pushed through the throngs of people to reach Carrillo and Ari.

“Glad you could join us, pendejo,” Carrillo said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Javi murmured, shooting Ari a warm smile. “You start without me?” He gestured to their drinks.

“Yeah, but it’s only our first round,” Ari told him. “Easy for you to catch up.” Javi flagged down the waitress and ordered a whiskey. He sat down next to Ari and across from Carrillo.

“So, what did I miss?” Javi asked them as the waitress placed his drink on the table in front of him.

“Not much,” Carrillo said, sipping his own whiskey. “Just that your partner here is crazy.”

“I am not crazy”—Ari scoffed at the same time Javier said—“Nothing new there.” Ari shot him a glare. Javi and Carrillo laughed.

“I’m not crazy, asshole,” Ari protested again, this time glaring at Carrillo.

“You had your partner shoot you, princesa,” Carrillo barked out with a laugh. Javi looked at her in disbelief.

“He’s making it sound worse than it is,” Ari insisted.

“Alright,” Javi said, waving his hands in front of him, “I’m gonna need the whole story, hermosa.” Ari sighed loudly and downed the rest of her whiskey.

“It was a couple years ago when I was in Mexico,” she began. “My partner, Martinez, and I were following up on a lead. Managed to track down a couple mid level players, and we made the decision to move in without backup—there just wasn’t time to wait.” She held her empty glass up towards the waitress and offered a warm smile when she nodded. “Anyway, once we went in, they scattered, like those fucking rats always do. We had our eyes on one guy in particular. He was more important than the others. We knew his intel would be valuable. He led us on a fucking marathon of a chase through the city. I lost sight of him for a moment and that’s when he got the jump on me.”

Ari thanked the waitress when she brought her new drink over. She took a sip and set the glass back down. Her thumb played with the condensation on the side. Javi couldn’t help but watch her graceful fingers play up and down the glass. He imagined how they would feel stroking up and down his cock.

“He used me as a shield and held a gun to my head,” Ari continued the story. “Martinez tried negotiating with him, but the fucker wasn’t listening. I knew we had one chance to get him and hopefully not end up with a bullet in my head.”

“What the hell did you do, Ari?” Javi asked.

“Got Martinez to shoot him,” Ari said simply.

“Yeah, by shooting through you,” Carrillo snorted.

“What?” Javi half-shouted in disbelief.

“It was the only way,” Ari said with a shrug. “I trusted Martinez. He was an excellent shot. I knew he wouldn’t hit anything vital.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Javi hissed. “You are crazy.”

“I’m. Not. Crazy,” Ari said emphatically. “I just do what needs to be done. Just like you two assholes.”

“We may be assholes, but you still love us,” Carrillo teased.

“I do adore you both,” Ari sighed dramatically. “I don’t know what I would do without all the drama you two stir up.”

“We don’t stir up drama,” Javi argued. Ari laughed loudly.

“Sure you don’t,” Ari teased.

“I’m a perfect gentleman,” Carrillo insisted. Ari snorted and then slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

“Hermosa, did you just snort?” Javi asked in awe. The men started shaking with laughter.

“No, no, no!” Ari shouted. “You did not hear that! Oh my fucking God!” She looked like she wanted to sink through the floor in embarrassment.

“It was actually adorable, Ari,” Javi huffed, out of breath from laughing. He wiped a tear from his eye.

“Don’t worry, princesa,” Carrillo assured her. It’s nice to know you have a flaw. You’re not perfect after all.”

“I have plenty of flaws,” Ari argued. “I am about as far from perfect as they get.” Javi could not disagree more. Even the fact that she snorted when she found something truly funny made her fucking perfect.

“You are perfect, hermosa,” Javi insisted with a grin. “Just accept it.” Ari rolled her eyes.

“We need more drinks,” she concluded. “If I’m gonna deal with you two being weird tonight, I think we need shots.” Javi and Carrillo groaned in unison. “Oh no you don’t. No whining.” Ari started climbing over Javi to get out of the booth.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Javi hissed, leaning back slightly. Ari paused, straddling his lap for a moment.

“Going to the bar,” she answered casually like sitting in his lap was the most natural thing in the world.

“Fuck, you could have just asked me to move,” Javi grumbled.

“But then I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to see you so flustered,” Ari said cheekily. A blush crept up Javi’s neck. How the hell did she have this effect on him. She looked at him with a grin. “Should I keep going? Or do you want me to stay here?” She settled her plush little ass right on his groin, his half hard dick nestled right up against her warmth. Javi’s hands quickly came to her waist and lifted her up. She smiled, and he knew that she had felt the evidence of his desire.

“For the love of god, go to the bar, Ari,” Javi groaned. She laughed and took pity on him, climbing the rest of the way out of the booth and sauntering over to the bar. Both men eyed her ass as she walked away.

“She is fucking trouble,” Javi said with an exasperated sigh.

“She certainly is,” Carrillo agreed.

“Is she really gonna make us do shots?” Javi asked incredulously.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Carrillo said with a smile. “This will not end well. Ari has an incredibly high tolerance for alcohol, especially for someone so fucking small, but once she starts doing shots…well, let’s just say this night could get interesting.” Javier’s eyebrows went up in surprise. He’d never seen Ari drunk before.

“Alright,” Ari said as she came back to the table. She had a tray of shots in her hands. She set them down on the table. Javi shot up out of the booth to let her slide back in. She smirked at him, knowing exactly why he had gotten up so quickly. “Let’s do this, gentlemen.”

“Is this really necessary, princesa?” Carrillo asked, trying, one last time, to be the voice of reason.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “Yes it is.” She quickly threw back the first shot and slammed the glass back on the table.

“Fuck it,” Javi said with a shrug and downed his first shot. They both turned to Carrillo, brows quirked in challenge.

“You two are a bad influence,” he groaned. Ari laughed and the colonel took two shots back to back. He shot them a look, throwing the gauntlet down.

“Oh, ok, I see how it’s gonna be,” Ari said, accepting his challenge. Javi and her shared a look and reached for another shot. The night carried on in a similar fashion. They threw back shots and talked. They laughed, they made fun of each other, they shared war stories. Javier couldn’t remember the last time he had had this much fun. Carrillo wasn’t normally this pleasant to be around. Sure, he and Javi were friends and got along, but theirs was a more somber friendship, mostly because, well, Carrillo was a somber man.

Except he wasn’t. When he was around Ari he lit up. He laughed and seemed to finally relax. Ari seemed to have that effect on people. She brought out the best in them. You couldn’t help but smile when you were with her. He was pulled from his thoughts when Carrillo stood up.

“This has been fun, but I need to get home to my wife,” the colonel told them.

“Get home safe, Colonel,” Ari said in a slightly sluggish voice. They weren’t drunk yet, but they were getting close.

“See you soon,” he told them. Javi waved and offered him a goodbye. Javi could have moved to the other side of the booth…but he didn’t want to. They shared several more rounds of shots after Carrillo took his leave. Javi had just finished his ninth—or was it his tenth? Fuck, maybe it was his thirteenth?—shot when he turned to see Ari staring at him, her chin in her hand.

“What are you staring at, hermosa?” He asked huskily.

“You,” she answered simply.

“Any particular reason why?” He asked with a smirk.

“You’re nice to look at,” was her blunt reply.

“Is that so?” He felt his heart skip a beat.

“Yep,” she said, reaching for another shot. “Been a nice change. Most of the guys I worked with in Mexico were ugly.” She giggled and almost spilled her shot. “At least when I look up from my boring ass paperwork here I get to see Murphy’s adorable face or this ridiculously handsome one here.” She gestured to Javi with the hand holding the shot, the tequila sloshing over the glass.

“Ridiculously handsome?” Javi smiled.

“Mmhmm,” Ari hummed in affirmation before tossing the rest of the tequila into her mouth. She slammed the glass back down on the table and practically leered at Javier. “Insanely handsome. You’re a distraction, Peña.” Javier grinned, feeling the buzz of the alcohol and the warmth of Ari’s praise flow through him. He leaned closer.

“You’re the distraction, hermosa,” Javi whispered near her ear. Ari snorted again, and Javier thought it was just as adorable the second time.

“It has nothing to do with me, Peña,” Ari scoffed jokingly. “You’re just distracted by pussy. Doesn’t matter who it is.” Javi settled his hand on top of her thigh. He had to touch her, even in just this small way.

“You know that’s not true, querida,” he murmured lowly into her ear. He inched closer to her, pressing up against her side. “You’re intoxicating—unlike any woman I’ve ever known. I may notice other women, but none of them pull me in the way you do.” He leaned in and smelled her hair. The heady aroma of lilacs and something inherently Ari filled his senses. Fuck, she smelled amazing. “You’re worse than the fucking cocaine we hunt down.”

“You sure know how to flatter a girl,” Ari whispered teasingly. She turned her head and nuzzled her nose against the side of his face.

“What are you doing, cariño?” He whispered.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. Her hand grasped the back of his neck tightly. “You smell so fucking good.”

“This is a bad idea,” Javi said desperately, not sure if he was trying to convince Ari or himself.

“Probably,” Ari agreed quietly, brushing her lips against his.

“Fuck,” Javi groaned and captured her lips. They were so soft. He swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, seeking entrance. She opened her mouth and welcomed him with a moan. He plunged his tongue into the hot cavern of her mouth. He groaned when she rubbed her tongue against his. She tasted like tequila and honey.

He brought his hand up to cradle her face, his other hand squeezing the meat of her thigh. Their kiss was wet and sloppy and passionate, fueled not only by desire but by the alcohol flowing through their system. Javi couldn’t get enough of her.

He felt her overwhelming his senses. He was losing touch with where they were and what was going on around them—something Javier never did. Distractions in a public place, especially in Colombia, could get him killed. But all he could see was Ari. All he could feel or smell or hear was Ari. She consumed his every thought at that moment. And all he could think about was getting closer, closer, closer. He wanted to burrow deep inside her and never come out.

The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat finally pierced through the fog that had invaded his mind. Javi reluctantly broke the kiss and pulled back slightly to look at Ari. She chased his lips, trying to bring him back for more. It was then that Javi realized she was no longer sitting in the booth next to him, but she was straddling his lap, her hands buried in his thick hair. He glanced around to see they had attracted a bit of an audience.

“Ari,” he rasped. She was still trying to bring his lips back to hers. “Baby, we gotta stop.” He grasped her upper arms and gently pushed her back a little. She seemed to come out of whatever trance the two of them had fallen under.

“How—” she gestured to her new position in his lap.

“I don’t know,” Javi whispered. “Fuck, I lost track of everything once your tongue hit mine.” Ari pressed her forehead against his and let out a small laugh. She reluctantly climbed off his lap and settled next to him again. They watched each other quietly, suddenly shy and unsure of what to say. Javi cleared his throat.

“Probably a good thing we were interrupted,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Ari agreed with a nod. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“We’re drunk,” Javi offered as an excuse.

“Yes,” Ari grasped it immediately. “We’re not thinking straight. So, let’s just chalk this up to a drunken mistake and not talk about it ever again. Sound good?”

“Works for me,” he said. Even though he didn’t want to talk about it, and he knew for the sake of their jobs it should never happen, Javi couldn’t help but wish he would get to taste her again. That was the best goddamn kiss he’d ever experienced. “Just a couple drunken idiots. No harm, no foul.”

“Perfect,” Ari said with a smile. “Now let’s finish these shots and head out.” Javi groaned but they did their last few shots and left the bar. It was only a couple blocks to their apartment, so they had walked to the bar. The walk back was far more interesting though. The two of them were very drunk and unstable, but they seemed to think everything was hilarious all of a sudden. Javi decided he was going to slide across the hood of a car parked on the street because ‘it always looks cool on TV’.

When he landed very ungracefully on the street on the other side of the car he let out a loud fart. Ari fell over from laughing so hard, and it took them a solid ten minutes to pull themselves back up to standing. Every time they fell they laughed, starting the process all over again. Finally, they arrived at their apartment. Javi saw her to her door, even though it was right next to his.

“This was fun,” he told her. Ari agreed, leaning against the door frame so she wouldn’t fall over again. “And we’re not talking about the other thing, right?”

“Right,” she said with an emphatic nod.

“Well, since we’re not talking about it ever again…may as well enjoy one last taste,” Javi whispered and pulled her roughly against him. The kiss was sloppy but still hot as hell. They practically devoured each other. His large hands reached down and gripped her ass, pulling her closer to him. Finally Ari pushed him back.

“We have to stop now or else I’m going to drag you in here and fuck your brains out,” she said breathlessly. Javi considered it. He really did. He wanted nothing more than he wanted to fuck Ari, but he wasn’t going to cross that line with her. She deserved more than he could offer, and it would just end up ruining their working relationship.

“Alright, hermosa,” he whispered huskily. He set her back on her feet and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Tonight never happened. Sleep well.” She smiled at him as she closed the door. Javi leaned against the wall and sighed. He looked down at the insistent bulge pressing against his jeans. He was way too drunk to get one of his regular girls to help him out. He shrugged and walked into his apartment. Wouldn’t be the first time he jerked off to thoughts of Ari, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.

Chapter 5

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busycryin · 4 years ago

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REPOST - THE NIGHT WE MET

THE NIGHT WE MET

PART ONE - THE NIGHT WE MET

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 5.3k

Summary: You decide to travel to Colombia on a whim, there you meet a gorgeous stranger that just so happens to be your brothers partner.

Anon was worried about losing my work when I switched blogs, so fear not. I’m reposting on here but I have no intention of deleting my other blog, it’s where I got my first 200 notes and I’m honestly blown away by it. I’m happy to announce I’m working on a fourth part. I’m not sure when I’ll post it as I’m still in the idea stage but it’s definitely a start, ay!

AO3

MASTERLIST

Author Note: So here is my return to writing! The word count got away from me but I loved every second of it. Always after prompts, so drop me a message on here if you’d like to see anything in particular. If it’s in my wheelhouse, you’ll definitely see it.

Pedro in the black shirt is what inspired me to write this, I can’t lie.

If you were brutally honest with yourself, this spur of the moment decision may have been a mistake.

Other people could make these choices and not have that nagging feeling in their gut from the second they booked their fuckin’ airline ticket. You had attempted to grab your crappy life by its metaphorical horns and go and sort this shit show out by yourself, but after your momentary bravery was used up, all that was left was a crippling anxiety that threatened to send you into one of your full scale panic attacks if you thought too hard about the fact you were following your big brother to Colombia.

Yes, Colombia. You, a U.S. national with no particular interest in hunting Pablo Escobar, had decided to vacation in sunny, crime ridden Bogotá on a whim.

You were fuckin’ dumb.

Sarcasm aside, you weren’t actually here on vacation, you were going to check on Stevie. Your brother, one of the DEA agents assigned with taking down Escobar.

You’d been worried about him for a few months, it had sounded like he was dealing with heavy shit in South America, you knew that was the job, but he was still your brother.

It was all you could do not to book the tickets there and then, but you held out and supported Connie in the ways Steve couldn’t have, taking care of Olivia when you could and just trying your hardest to be there for her. Your presence alone seemed to be enough to help her through the days that followed. A week and a half after her return, you booked your flight to Colombia in secret.

You had to check on Steve.

So here you sat, two hours into your flight to the paradise destination; Bogotá. Your brother’s address scrawled on a scrap piece of paper in the one hand and a glass of cheap whiskey in the other. The alcohol did little to to calm your nerves, this was a dangerous place for a cop, let alone a fuckin’ clueless civilian.

You huffed and dropped onto the bottom step in surrender, not quite sure where to go from here.

Weeks of anxiety and worry finally took their toll on your body as reality set in, and as it did so you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation you’d put yourself in. A light chuckle escaped your body as you held your face in your hands, you rubbed at your eyes as a way of refreshing yourself before sighing and leaning back.

“Uh… no hablo… español?” you pretty much asked him, cringing internally at your butchering of the most basic sentence of this gorgeous strangers language, his lips quirked at your mumbles making his mustache raise on one side with his smirk. Now, you’d never been a fan of a mustache, Steve and your father had both taken to styling their facial hair in such a way, and as a rule of thumb they were a big no-no. But my god. This man made that mustache his bitch and that bitch worked for him.

“You’re American?” He questions, smirk dropping along with his eyebrows in confusion as his brain processes the information.

“Oh thank god and Jesus fuckin’ christ above. You’re American!” Your timid nature had given way to pure unadulterated relief. “Stevie, Steve Murphy, he lives in this building, yeah?”

“Yeah… Stevi…Steve lives here- I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” He asks with a puzzled look and a shake of his head, there’s an air of distrust about him for some strange reason.

“I’m Y/N Murphy, I’m his sister.”

“Sister? Mierda… does he know you’re here?”

“Nope,” You pop your P as you shrug at the man before you with false nonchalance. “He’d have to answer the phone to me or Connie to know that now, wouldn’t he?”

“Steve.” The stranger sighed, annoyed.

“Sorry, who are you?” You asked, yourself becoming more bemused by the man by the second.

“Uh, I don’t want to interrupt…” You mumble, waving your free hand vaguely towards where you knew the woman was waiting for him, making him smirk once again.

You were beginning to think that the sarcastic raise of his mouth was just his default resting face.

“You’re not interrupting anything.”

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘cause I’d think it to. This is how people die in America, let alone fuckin’ Colombia, but if it’s a choice between dying at the hands of a gorgeous man who seems to know your brother or a stray that wonders in through the non-descript lobby door then you’d rather go out with a nice view, even if he did have a girlfriend.

If you had to gamble, you’d say you had a damn good chance of making it out of this apartment alive.

You rolled your eyes, instilled with a new confidence as you turned and walked towards his apartment, you felt his eyes follow your form once more.

Steve’s hot partner was an ass man… Good to know.

…

“No thanks, I quit.”

“Woman with an iron will?”

“Not quite,” You whisper, shaking your head.

“Murphy? … Yeah… you need to get back to your place now… You’ve got a guest…. No … come find out why don’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from his lazy tone, his voice was so smooth. It was like chocolate on gravel, you could listen to him talk for hours, which led your mind down that deep dark hole of what he sounded like during more carnal acts, he’d be a talker, for definite, what with all that confidence and swagger. “‘Kay… I’ll see you soon.”

Shaking your head you centred yourself, it had been a dry patch for you. You needed to calm down and not throw yourself at your brother’s partner, even if he just so happened to be the first man you had any interest in to show you attention in months.

“Drink?” He offered pointing at the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

Initiate something? God Y/N, get your mind out of the gutter. This poor man had only invited you in because you were his partner’s sister and he was doing the decent thing.

“Uh… The television work?” You ask, pointing at the empty screen.

“I didn’t realise you could speak Spanish…” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, mocking your earlier attempts at the language, though he reached across and switched the box on with the remote, he began flicking through the channels so quickly he almost gave you a headache.

“Oh yes, I’m very proficient, I just didn’t want to intimidate you earlier. Hola Señor Javier.” You say continuing his ruse. He chuckles at your words, it’s a deep warm noise that shakes his entire frame. You were definitely thinking about adding Javier’s voice to your top ten list of favourite sounds.

News, News, Colombian QVC, News, News, Soap opera. Bingo!

“What is she saying?” You question narrowing your eyes at the beautiful woman’s tone. Javier, who had been watching your reactions the whole time as you got into the awful tv show scrambled as he tried to listen and translate the woman’s words.

“Uh… her dads an alcoholic and she’s trying to support her son… that guy didn’t know about the son… I think… she was happy living a double life without the worry and she wants him to forgive her and start over…” Javier translated, giving you the general cliff notes.

You chuckled at your own joke, as did Javier. Though this time when his body shook his bare elbow touched your own.

How was he so goddamn warm?

All he was wearing was a black button down shirt. One that looked to be the wrong size it was so tightly fitted- not that you were complaining about the view. My God, were you horny today.

Get a grip Y/N.

Javier broke the tension in the room by finally asking the question that had been on his lips all evening.

“You came all the way to Colombia… Why?” Javier grabbed a cigarette off of the coffee table, placing his drink where the carton of smokes had been. He lit the stick and waited for your response, honestly, you were thrown. The question had come out of nowhere whilst you were still trying to analyse why exactly this man had such an effect on you when he was doing nothing but being a good host. You hastened to think up a half coherent reply before you just answered truthfully.

“Look, you coming down here probably makes more problems than it solves, Steve’s a big boy if he doesn’t call to check in, it’s probably ‘cause he’s busy… He’s-” Something about Javier’s dismissive tone rubbed you the wrong way, call it sleep deprivation or blame the weeks of stress, but you were tired of being called paranoid. You were not an overbearing mother hen.

Javier raised his hands in mock surrender, cigarette still in mouth. “He’s actually more of a drug lord slash narcoterrorist, but-”

Javier’s hand emigrated forward slowly, your eyes followed the movement in your peripheral but you didn’t dare look away from the pools of molasses as he reached to grip one hand at your denim thigh, his eyes roamed your face for any sign of this being an unwelcome approach and when he found none his other hand began its climb to rest on your jaw, just below your ear.

You couldn’t say if you moved towards him or if he advanced on you, all you knew was he was on you now as the tips of your noses rubbed against one another.

Your hand shot up to land on his collarbone, before you could even really consider your own actions you pulled apart until your foreheads were the only thing touching. He was intoxicating, you could lose yourself completely in this man, he somehow smelt like cinnamon, whiskey and sweat, a combination you’d never thought would send liquid fire through your central nervous system. You’d give anything to taste him properly, but this was wrong. So so wrong. This was your brother’s partner, this was inviting complication to your door, when you were just here to check on Steve. You were here for Steve.

You were here for Steve…

“… This isn’t a good idea.” You all but whisper, closing your eyes. Regret pulses through your veins at your self imposed restraint.

You felt him grip at the bottom of your tank top and begin to lift it, except he stopped, and began to rub patterns on the stomach he exposed. Javier’s mouth descended from your lips to begin to suck and lick at your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his work as pleasure rippled throat your body. His hands slid the length of your body to grab at your chest, which conforming to every stereotype was heaving, he palmed your breast blindly as his face was still buried in your hair, sucking and kissing along to your ear, before he raised his mouth a mere inch and whispered “Te follaré toda la noche niña.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from stroking the man’s hair whose face was planted in between your tits as his hips rose against your own pushing his hardened length up against the seams of your jeans, you gasped as he hit that sweet spot. You let out a noise that sounded like a wail. You wanted nothing more than to lie back and let this man have his filthy way with your body. And you know, from the hour you’ve spent with this man it would be phenomenally filthy. The kind of sex that would ruin all men for you, but no. You had to be a good sister. Like a fuckin loser.

“…Is Steve okay?”

“…No… He’s been fuckin’ mess ever since Connie left.” Javier sighed whilst closing his eyes and breathing deep. You raised your hands from his chest, which was difficult as he was crushing his body to yours and cupped his cheek, you joined your lips once more, much like the first kiss. This was sweet and there wasn’t a carnal appetite behind it but rather an understanding.

Javier pulled open the door and you clutch your hands into your lap, not quite sure what kind of reception you were about to receive from your brother. You hear the two men greet one another in hushed whispers, you couldn’t make out Steve’s voice much until you hear his voice clear as day “…what the hell was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You stand from your spot on the sofa and quickly realise the button on your jeans is undone; if you’re honest you don’t even know how he managed to do that without you noticing, even though it’s not the time you take a solitary second to commend Javier on his artistry of disrobing a woman. Turning quickly you pull the rivet back through the hole and swing around as Steve crosses the threshold from the hallway.

You said nothing as you held him and stroked his hair. In that moment you thanked your every instinct that screamed at you to come to Colombia.

This had definitely not been a mistake.

#pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #repost #narcos fanfiction

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ravenadottir · 3 years ago

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part 2/3 of this ask:

~ why they decided to sign up for the show ~

bobby. mainly for the promise of fun and possible friendships. that's the primary thought in his mind, followed by the possibility of meeting girls (AND BOYS) and finding a romantic connection. i genuinely think bobby didn't prioritize romance because of past experiences. love island was also a way to popularize his cooking, and that might be reason number three.

carl. someone convinced him of doing it. a close friend that told him how much he needed to be driven outside of his comfort zone, and what could be more outside of the box than signing up for a show? "this could legit be the future of dating" was definitely his first thought and motivation to go for it, but he never thought he would actually be picked up. his age, occupation, even looks, he might've thought to himself he wouldn't be drafted.

chelsea. all about the promise of fun, friendships and being around hot guys all day, every day. the prize, or even finding her soulmate, were never part of the reason. but love island is one thing, and that is the certainty that you'll have fun and have something to talk about on social media for a very long time. i reckon chelsea had realistic expectations and that's on that.

elisa. i usually don't talk about her, because usually i don't have anything to say. but this time, bear with me. elisa talks about the possibility of finding a king *CLEARS THROAT* queen, because she was already very much into mc. the point of signing up was clout. it was! she had no idea how the turn tables, i guarantee! she was as surprised as mc was when they had roughly 10 days to get to know each other and fall in love like that. her main reason was clout, especially when she realized she wasn't hitting the villa as an og girl, or even on casa amor. she lost hope, only to see mc and get the fanny flutters.

gary. putting yourself out there. that's definitely the reasoning behind it. he talks about how he wants to settle down after a high bodycount and i don't doubt it for one bit. he shows how serious he's about it, especially after coming back single from casa amor. a way of driving himself into something fun AND that could bring him love, or at least the promise of it, are the main reasons.

henrik. he says it himself "meaningful connections", whether those are romantic or not. if anything, getting a tan while making friends would also be a shout, and henrik being the puppy he is, i believe in it, fully. his is probably the most honest answer about their intentions on season 2. it's very credible, to say the least.

hope. she's the "very strong woman" at first, but really a good friend and companion to mc once you get to know her. she shows a soft side to her that most women can't really display or be perceived as. proving she could find someone, and win, was the main reason. making friends on the way was definitely a second. she talks about how mc was her only close friend in there and is so sweet. also further proof this was in her mind when she signed up. perhaps because of her schedule she doesn't have much spare time to meet new people, so that might be part of the reason.

ibrahim. mainly to change. i really think rahim has this perception of himself and how he needed to open up. most ex-islanders talk about how life changing their experience was, and i really think he saw it as a way out of his closed off personality. he made an effort aside from the comments people made about him. i love that about his character.

kassam. definitely the experience itself. not very interested in friends, because of how he deals with big groups, and maybe about love and a romantic connection. kassam being so reserved, and already eager to make an album about his journey, makes me think he was there to explore himself as a person, since he probably never had the chance to do it so, before. even for a very little time window, people can find wonderful things about themselves when exposed to a situation like that. i do reckon he would've prefered to be an oh guy though.

lottie. for the boys, definitely. she talks about how hard it is for her to meet men in her line of work, which is makeup. she has a sense of how she wants go to about things, and probably saw herself in the leading role before hitting the villa. but i do believe she signed up for the promise of love, secondarily for friendships, and thirdly, for the journey.

lucas. he knows the producers triangle people into profiles, and there's always someone, sometimes more than two, people that fit in with others perfectly. perhaps love island was the cleanest and fastest way to find that person for himself. i don't think he would favor friendships or journey over love, but he ends up having a friend for life after meeting henrik. (possibly another two: carl and kassam, once they meet at the parties).

marisol. i think her competitive genes took her to sign up for the show. in my head, marisol has a need to show up her skills at all times, and being in a big group, where she could have samples of personality to have relationships with was a big plus. sure she thought about love and friends, but they weren't even close to the main reason why she was there. maybe an experiment, possibly a way of her understanding people further, was her number one motive.

noah. for the whole time he's been there i honestly haven't thought much about his reasons. at first i considered the show could've been the opportunity he wanted to discover more about himself, under the romantic scope. he must have not had much luck with love on the outside and that tells me he wanted to push himself out of the comfort zone, but failed miserably. especially if he had a thing for mc.

priya. not gonna lie, i think priya signed up for the fun. she does have commitment issues, and even talks about them. "i'm here to change." you're here to have fun, girl, don't lie! because she took every opportunity of changing and tossed in the trash. going to the show to have fun is not a bad reason, but i reckon she should've been honest about it.

part one

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hookedonapirate · 4 years ago

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Book Update

If anyone is wondering when Hard To Handle will be coming out, I have some news! So, for those who don't know, Hard To Handle is an original A Helping Hand rewrite featuring Harper and Owen (Killian and Emma) and will be part 2 of the series. And if you haven't guessed yet, part 1 features Audrey and Brady (Elsa and Liam from A Helping Hand) with a Harper and Brady friendship. For those interested in their story, I have a little treat for you below. However, this Sneak peek doesn't show Audrey and Brady meeting yet because I haven't gotten that far.

This is sort of an enemies to lovers story (I say sort of because their "enemy" status in the beginning is too complicated to slap a label on it) that starts off with Harper and Audrey butting heads with their new neighbor, Brady, and him and Audrey exchanging love hate letters. 😉 Then Brady and Audrey form an alliance and break up Harper and Bryce. I promise it's not evil like it sounds because Brady discovers Bryce is cheating on Harper. Remember, Bryce is the Neal of AHH.

This book is a bit darker than book 2 because of the toxic nature of Harper's relationship with Bryce, and because Audrey often pays the price for his shenanigans, but there's still humor and fun in this one.

Anyway, here are the first few chapters. I may post more if anyone's interested ❤️

Chapter One

Brady

There are strange sounds coming from the unit next door.

Laughter maybe?

Yes, definitely laughter.

More like Cackling. From one—make that two—females.

Two loud, annoying females.

Just great.

I take pride in being a fairly simple man who doesn’t need much to be happy. A few things like fishing, enjoying an ice-cold beer and having a few moments of quiet time usually does the trick. Even the sound the can makes whenever I crack open the pull tab of Coors Light is music to my ears. I finally have time to relax after sweating my ass off from all the unpacking I did. I just moved in today and couldn’t stand the idea of tripping over boxes or searching through them every time I needed to use something. I was unable to stop unpacking until every single item in those boxes had a home.

Now I’m able to sit back in my patio chair, prop my feet up on the plastic stool and breathe in the pleasantly cool evening air, enjoy a refreshing, ice-cold beer and some quiet time.

Or at least I was able to until my air of tranquil serenity was so rudely disturbed by my cackling neighbors.

They could at least close their balcony doors, so the entire building doesn’t have to hear them.

I’m already in a foul mood, and the two laughing hyenas aren’t helping. If anything, my mood is worse than it was when I was packing.

They, however, sound like they’re having a grand old time. Doing what exactly, I’m not sure, but it sounds like one of them needed a break from studying and the other one is encouraging her to get drunk and let loose. Which means they’re college students.

Just fucking perfect.

This is exactly why I moved off campus, even though it meant paying rent and enduring a much longer commute to work.

It’s just my luck to get stuck living next to two loud teenagers or early twenty-something-year-olds. I’m around college students all the time, considering I’m an instructor; I don't need to live next to them, too. I learned that very quickly.

Young adults, my ass. More like impudent children.

I feel like the property management should’ve included that minor detail in the apartment listing. Or that not everyone is required to follow their uniform policies.

A peaceful, friendly community? Ha!

The management will definitely be hearing from me about their false advertising.

“Dude, I’m sorry to tell you this, Harp, but your boyfriend’s a fucking loser! Even Elisa said so!”

“He’s just misunderstood!”

“Misunderstood?! Bryce is such a creep!”

“Is not!”

I take a swig of my beer through gritted teeth. I really wish I had a TV right now.

It won’t be delivered until tomorrow, though. Which is very unfortunate and inconvenient at the moment because I need a distraction from reality. Listening to their conversation makes me furious and sad at the same time because it reminds me of me and my brother arguing about his girlfriend. I kept trying to tell Owen she was no good for him, but he wouldn’t listen. I bet this Bryce guy isn’t married, though.

Or maybe he is; I really don’t know.

I need something to take my mind off the overwhelming urge I feel to hop on a plane, fly to Chicago and kick my brother’s ass for being the fucking moron he is. And let me tell you, the urge is very strong right now. Earlier today, Owen told me the woman he’s been seeing is married. They’ve been dating for six months, during which she was lying to him the entire time. I already didn’t like her very much to begin with because she was a controlling bitch—I’m the only one who’s allowed to be a controlling bitch to my brother—and because ever since he started seeing her, I haven't been able to hang out with him very much. Whenever we made plans, he canceled them because Naomi wanted to spend time with him instead. And he was my best friend. Now he tells me she’s married and that he’s still staying with her.

What the actual fuck?

He’s so brainwashed by her, I couldn’t talk a lick sense into that goddamn head of his. Now he wants me to be okay with them staying together while she’s still with her husband?

Fuck that shit.

“Okay listen, if you’re going to talk shit about my boyfriend, we’re going to need more wine.”

“Agreed.”

It becomes silent next door for a few minutes, which makes me sigh in relief. Soon I hear, “Son of a fucking bitch!”

There’s a litany of curses and then, “We need a new corkscrew!”

“But we’re too drunk to drive anywhere!”

Damn, if only I had a corkscrew so they could drink more wine, get drunker and become even louder and more annoying than they already are.

That’s actually not a bad idea, though. If they’re anything like my ex-girlfriend, the quicker they get drunk, the quicker they’ll be ready to sleep. The quicker I’ll finally have my peace and quiet.

I contemplate driving down to the corner store, but what would I even say if I showed up at their door with a corkscrew they didn’t ask for? Oh, hi, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and took it upon myself to go to the store and buy you this corkscrew so you could both drink yourselves into an alcohol-induced coma and I could finally have some peace and quiet?

Nope, I definitely can’t say that.

Chapter Two

Audrey

“Son of a fucking bitch!”

When I rush into the kitchen to see why my roommate’s cussing up a storm, I’m expecting the counter and floor to be covered in wine and shattered glass, even though I didn’t hear any glass break, but Harper’s just holding the corkscrew and staring at the top of the bottle.

“What’s wrong?”

“We need a new corkscrew!” Harper grabs the bottle of wine and points the top of it at me. The cork is still jammed into the neck of the bottle, and the worm of the corkscrew is stuck inside it.

Which is very unfortunate.

She’s been studying her ass off, except for the occasional interruptions from her asshat of a boyfriend, Bryce. She had a really tough time getting him to finally leave so she could study, and she had to literally push him out the door. So I thought Harper could use a break and I could feel saner again by indulging in some wine. But one bottle of wine quickly turned into two. Or rather, it would’ve if not for the end of the corkscrew inside the cork.

Fuck.

“But we can’t drive anywhere,” I point out, considering how tipsy we both are, even though we only went through one bottle between us. But we’re both lightweights.

“Hold on,” she says, picking up her phone from the counter.

I cock my brow. “You do realize Amazon Prime takes two days to ship, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Aud. I’m not that drunk.” After looking at something on her phone for a minute, she leaves the kitchen, returns with one of her tennis shoes and sets the phone down to pick up the wine bottle. She places the bottom of the bottle inside the heel of the shoe, raises her hands above her head and goes to one of the walls in a striking pose.

I rush over and put my hand on her arm to stop her. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“This will push the cork out.”

“But won’t the wine spill all over?”

“Not if I can only push the cork part of the way out and then pull it off the rest of the way.” She hits the shoe against the wall a few times, but the cork doesn’t budge.

“Why don’t we see if any of the neighbors have a corkscrew,” I suggest. “This method doesn’t seem to be working.”

She sighs and drops her arms. “Who do you think would have one?”

“What about Mandy? She’s a wine drinker.”

Harper shakes her head. “She doesn’t get home from the office until late on Mondays. And there’s no way I’m trying mister grumpy pants across the hall. It always seems like he’ll snap at any moment. Plus, once his dog starts yapping, she never shuts up.”

“What about the new guy who just moved in next door?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if he’s an ax murderer?”

“I saw him earlier when he was moving in. He seems harmless enough, and is kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, well so was Ted Bundy. And I’d like to stay alive with my head intact, thank you very much.” I haven’t seen the new neighbor yet, but I don’t think going over to a stranger's place while we’re both a little tipsy is the best idea, for several reasons.

She flicks her hand. “Well, you don’t have to go. I will.” She grabs her keys, removes her pepper spray from the attached chain and throws her keys back on the counter before heading toward the door.

“Harp, wait…”

Ignoring my pleas as I follow behind her, she slips into her Nike slides. “I’ll be fine. I got my handy dandy pepper spray,” she says, holding it up.

Before I can talk some sense into her, she’s already dashing out the door and calling out over her shoulder, “If I’m not back in five minutes, call 911!”

I sigh and lean against the door, pressing my ear against it so I can listen for Harper’s screams or any signs of a struggle.

Chapter Three

Brady

When I head inside from the balcony, there’s a knock on the front door. I scratch my head and stride over to answer it, wondering who it could be. I just moved into this apartment today, so I literally don’t know any of my neighbors yet.

I open the door to a skinny blonde with green eyes, long, shimmering hair and soft pink lips. She’s easy on the eyes, but I have a feeling she’s one of the laughing hyenas next door. She’s not as young as I thought she’d be, though. She looks to be around my brother’s age. When I give her a once-over, I notice the pepper spray she’s trying to hide in her fist.

I wince at the sight of it. She doesn’t even have the safety lock on.

I offer a tight-lipped smile. “Hello.”

“HiI’myournextdoorneighbor,” she mumbles, her words slurred together. She’s a little tipsy and has to lean against the doorframe so she doesn’t fall over.

“How can I help you, next-door neighbor?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the pepper spray. The sight of it brings back too many painful memories. Memories I’d rather keep locked away.

“I was wondering if you had a corkscrew my roommate and I could borrow?”

On the balcony, I wanted to strangle the two neighbors who were interrupting my quiet time, but now I feel very protective. She’s obviously drunk, yet stumbling over to a neighbor she doesn’t even know. I mean, I like to consider myself an overall decent human being, or as I’ve been called before, “one of the good guys,” but this woman doesn’t know that. She knows nothing about me, yet she’s over here asking to borrow a corkscrew. And yes, she’s carrying a weapon, but I doubt she knows how to use it properly, and with how tipsy she is, I doubt she’d even be fast enough to use it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Her smile fades, but she looks determined, so I’m hoping she doesn’t go knocking on all her neighbors' doors asking for a corkscrew.

“I could buy you one,” I offer, trying to sound as polite as possible. Which is difficult when I’m irritated.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really? You’d do that?”

I cross my arms and give her a stern look. “On one condition.”

She nods excitedly. “Of course, anything.”

I’m so glad I’m a nice guy because this woman seems far too trusting, and I’m afraid of what would’ve happened if I were anything less than a decent human being. “I’ll go and get you a corkscrew if you return to your apartment and keep the noise down for the rest of the night. And maybe close your balcony doors so the entire building can’t overhear your childish conversation.”

I’m thinking this is a very reasonable request. I’m willing to leave the comfort of my apartment to get in my car and go to the corner store to get some women I don’t know a corkscrew, and all they have to do is put a cap on the noise.

But the scowl on her face tells me she doesn’t agree. “First of all,” she raises her index finger, “ruu-uuuuuuude!” She raises another finger. “Secondly, my roommate and I aren’t children. We’re having a stressful week and were finally able to relax and drink some wine when the corkscrew broke. But that’s okay, we’ll figure out how to get the cork off ourselves!” She turns on her heels and starts to head toward her apartment, but spins around again and gets in my space, jabbing a finger at my chest. “And thirdly, we weren’t being that loud!”

I clench my jaw as she storms away and slams the door shut after disappearing inside her apartment. I throw my own door shut, huffing in frustration.

Why couldn’t my neighbors all be sweet old ladies?

So much for having a relaxing evening!

I head back to my balcony when there’s another knock on the door.

“Son of bitch,” I curse under my breath as I march over to the door and yank it open. “What, now?” I ask angrily when I see her standing at my door again.

“I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

I furrow my brows, growing more agitated. “A what?”

She sighs as though I’m the one inconveniencing her. “A dress shoe,” she says impatiently. “Surely you’ve been to a wedding or funeral. You must have one.”

“I do, but why do you—” Before I get the chance to answer, she shoves past me and heads toward my bedroom.

I follow her in there and cross my arms over my chest in the doorway as I watch her go to my closet. “What in the ever-loving hell are you doing?”

“I told you, I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

Seriously?!

The audacity of this woman waltzing into my apartment and taking one of my shoes! “That’s funny because I never said you could borrow one.”

“Wow, your closet is super organized,” she comments as she looks around, easily finding one of my brown dress shoes and grabbing it from the shoe rack.

I’m still standing in the bedroom doorway when she tries to get through. I reach for my shoe, but she steps back and aims her pepper spray at me. I instinctively duck out of the line of fire and lunge forward, grabbing the pepper spray from her hand and twisting the safety lock.

“Wait, please don’t kill me! My roommate’s calling 911 if I’m not back in two minutes!” she cries, shielding herself with her hands.

I sigh in exasperation and extend the pepper spray to her. “I’m not trying to murder you, I was trying to get my shoe back.”

She slowly drops her arms and narrows her eyes as she snatches the spray from my hand. “Then why did you take away my weapon?”

I scoff. “It was a reflex so I didn’t get sprayed in the face since I wasn’t actually attacking you. Do you know how many times I’ve been pepper-sprayed in the face?”

“Why, because you’re a rapist?!” she accuses, stepping away from me and aiming her pepper spray at me again, even though the safety is still on. She probably doesn’t even know that, though.

I sigh in exasperation and raise my hands in surrender. “No, because I was in the Marines. Getting pepper-sprayed was part of my training. It taught me how to use my weapons and equipment.”

She lowers the spray, guilt etched in her features. “Oh, sorry. My roommate said you might be another Ted Bundy, and I don’t want to be raped and murdered.”

“Yeah, because breaking into your neighbor’s apartment and stealing their shoe is a good way to prevent that from happening,” I say, my words laden with sarcasm.

“Well, no, but that’s what the pepper spray was for.”

“It won’t do you any good if you don’t use it properly. You need to have a firm grip and use your thumb to activate it so it can’t be taken out of your hand like I just took it out of yours.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She raises the pepper spray at me again and presses the button to activate it. But it’s still disarmed. Once she realizes her mistake, her eyes widen.

I cock my head to the side and plant my hands on my hips. “Really?”

She offers an apologetic smile, then scurries toward me, ducks under my arm and squeezes past me, darting for the front door. “I’ll bring it right back, I promise!”

I let her go and exhale another deep sigh. What could she possibly need my shoe for anyway? To squash a spider or something? Can’t she use her own Goddamn shoe for that?

Right, she probably doesn’t want to get her precious shoe all gross, so she’s using mine instead. Which means my shoe will be returned with spider guts on the bottom.

Just great.

I go to the balcony and curtly grab my beer so I can head inside and not have to hear every goddamn word of their conversation again.

Pound, pound, pound.

What the hell?

It sounds like they’re banging something against the wall.

My shoe, perhaps?

Pound, pound, pound.

Then I hear a loud pop!

“Yessssss!”

They got the cork out.

“Holy shit, you made a mess!”

“Sorry, but at least we can keep drinking!”

“Woohoo!”

I head inside and close the sliding doors, hoping to go to bed and get some rest. But then there’s another knock on the front door.

“Fucking hell,” I groan as I go over to answer it. It’s probably the blonde neighbor with my shoe, but I’m not sure I want it back.

Sure enough, it’s her.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” She hands over my shoe with a small smile and heads back to her apartment.

“You didn’t borrow it, you stole it!” I call after her. But she completely ignores me.

“And sorry I tried to spray you...twice!” Before I can respond, she’s already inside her unit.

I bring the shoe to my nose to get a closer whiff of it. I noticed the smell as soon as she handed it to me. “Hey, why does my shoe smell like wine?!”

But I’m talking to the door at this point.

I shake my head and go back inside, trying to decide if I should try to get the smell out or just toss the pair into the trash. For now, I set it aside and go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, hoping my neighbors will down the bottle, get tired and pass out so I can have a quiet evening.

No such luck.

They turn on the music, and I can hear the pounding bass through the wall and also, “Yeeeeesssss, this is my jam!”

The walls are actually shaking.

Why do the other neighbors put up with this! It’s absurd, really.

They should be evicted.

I contemplate calling the police to make a complaint, but this is New York City; the police have better things to do than respond to non-emergency noise complaints. So I return to my bedroom, strip down to my boxers and toss my clothes into the hamper before slipping into bed. I can still hear the noises coming from the unit next door, but thankfully, I’m a patient man. I’m sure they’ll get tired soon and go to bed. Or at least I hope so.

But an hour passes, and the music still doesn’t cease. I groan and roll over on my stomach, pulling the pillow over my head, wishing I had noise-canceling headphones right now. I’m normally against the idea of something that cancels all sounds, because it also cancels sounds that alert danger. Like if a burglar broke into the apartment or there’s an explosion or gunshot. But right now, I’d do anything to get a good night’s sleep. Between arguing with my brother over the phone into the wee hours of the night yesterday and spending all day moving into my new place and unpacking, I’m completely exhausted. Not to mention I always start my day at five in the morning. My classes don’t start until eight a.m., but I like to get an early start to my day. I got up that early when I was in the Marines, and some habits just never die.

I’m about to get up and go down the hall to ask them to turn down the noise, but I’ve already asked her once and she got offended, so I doubt it will do any good.

Chapter Four

Audrey

I’m immediately regretting the two bottles of Barefoot Harper and imbibed last night. My head is pounding, I’m dehydrated, and I have to be at work in an hour. I take some aspirin, drink a full glass of water before jumping into the shower.

When I leave my bedroom, dressed and ready to go, Harper is shuffling out of her room.

“Morning,” she says groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning, Harp.” I head to the kitchen to make her some coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker myself, I prefer tea, but I know Harper can’t function in the morning without a fresh cup of hot Folgers.

“Why did we drink on a weeknight again?” she groans, taking a seat at the table.

“That’s an excellent question.” I pour water into the pot and place it in the coffeemaker, turning it on.

Harper buries her face in the cradle of her arms on the table as I grab some aspirin and a tall glass, filling it with water. She doesn’t have to work today, but she does have classes. She’s already a registered nurse like me, but she’s going for her master’s degree to open up more job opportunities. And also because she’s an overachiever, when it comes to her career at least. I just wish she were an overachiever when it came to other aspects of her life, like the kind of men she dates. Or maybe Harper was purposefully aiming for Class-A levels of douchebaggery when she started dating Bryce. If that’s the case, then she definitely went above and beyond expectations. And while she is my best friend and roommate, there’s only so much sense I can talk into her. And I'm not willing to let some lowlife scumbag get in between our friendship.

“Here, these will help.”

Harper lifts her head and takes the aspirin and glass. When she pops the pills in her mouth, swallowing them down with a big gulp of water, she already appears to be more human again.

I grab my keys and strap my purse over my shoulder, heading toward the front door.

“Speaking of drinking, are you going to be here Friday night?”

I snort-laugh and turn to look at her, placing my free hand on my hip, knowing exactly where this is going. She’s still recovering from her hangover and already has booze on the brain. “That depends. Is Bryce going to be here?”

When she takes a slow sip of her water, I know what her answer is before she says it out loud. “Well, considering he’s the one who invited a few people over, yes, he’ll be here.”

“Then no, I definitely won’t.” I head for the door, trying to leave again.

“That’s a shame because Bryce has a good-looking friend who thinks you’re gorgeous.”

I spin around, cocking a brow. “Which friend?”

“Treyton. You haven’t met him before, but he saw your pics on Instagram.”

I walk to the table, placing my hands on top of the chair, my key ring dangling from my finger. “How did he find my Instagram account if we’ve never met?”

“Bryce showed it to him.”

What the fuck?

I furrow my brows in confusion. “Okay, why is Bryce showing his friends my Instagram account?”

She smirks. “Because Treyton was asking him if I had any cute, single friends.”

I sigh, not liking the idea of Bryce trying to set his friends up with me. I’ve met some of his guy friends, and neither is one I’d kiss if he were the last man on earth. “Sorry, not interested.”

I remove my hand from the chair and try to leave again.

“Oh, come on, Aud. Give the guy a chance. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but he’s fucking hot.” She picks up her phone from the table and pulls up something before handing it to me across the table. “See for yourself.”

I reluctantly take the device, a heavy sigh leaving my lips. I highly doubt his looks will sway me. Even if is hot, he’s still Bryce’s—

Holy crap.

He’s got those smokey grey eyes, a chiseled jaw and a little smirk on his beautiful face that makes me melt.

Well, fuck.

“So, what do you think?” Harper asks curiously, trying to stifle a smirk as she perches her chin on the back of her joined hands, her elbows resting on the table.

I try not to show how attracted I am to a freaking photo of a guy I’ve never met before, but damn, those eyes are spellbinding, and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. “Okay, he’s a little cute.”

“A little? Honey, you and I have similar tastes in men, so I know you don’t think he’s just cute.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We usually do, which is why I have no idea how Bryce got your attention. He must have a big dick or something.” I narrow my eyes. “Does he have a big dick? Because that would explain a lot.”

Harper bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, Aud, you know it’s not all about the size! And no, he doesn’t, he’s average, but as much as you hate him, you can’t deny he’s good-looking.”

“Yes, maybe on the outside he’s cute but personality-wise he’s ugly as fuck.”

She sighs in defeat as I hand over her phone. This is just an argument neither of us will ever be able to agree on. Well, until she finally decides to take off those damn rose-colored glasses and sees Bryce as he truly is. But I know it would make Harper happy if I agreed to stay for the party. I know that sometimes she feels out of place considering most of Bryce’s friends are college kids. Normally, she’s the oldest one there, but you could never tell, because she has a baby face and looks at least five years younger than she actually is, so to the other college kids, she's one of them.

“Fine, I’ll be here for the party.”

Harper’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, but if any of his friends grab my ass, I’m leaving.”

She laughs. “Okay.”

The coffee machine beeps, so she gets up from her seat, grabs a mug and creamer and pours the steaming, hot liquid into her cup. She returns to her seat and sips her coffee as I once again try to leave. “Thanks for starting the coffee, Aud.”

“No problem. See you tonight.” I unlock the door, and when I pull it open, I notice a folded up crisp piece of copy paper taped to the outside. I cock my brow and peel it off, unfolding it. I’m expecting it to be from the building management.

But then I read the first line...

To the two hoity-toity princesses,

I immediately suspect it’s from mister grumpy pants across the hall, but the letter is in fancy cursive writing. Who even writes in cursive anymore? Maybe an old lady or mister grumpy pants, I suppose. But he normally doesn’t leave letters. He’ll just knock on the door with his cane and chew us out in person. Harper said the first time he knocked on her door to complain about the noise, he made her cry.

When he tries that shit with me, I give it right back to him and threaten to call the cops on his dog and have her taken to the pound. He tends to leave us alone now. So, I’m surprised he’s resorted to leaving us notes.

Can you kindly tone down your loud music and obnoxious woohooing, laughter and overall commotion that kept me up until 2 a.m.? Some people actually have to work on a Tuesday morning. I, myself, wake at 5 a.m. every single day and am now forced to go to work on three hours of sleep. Luckily the students I teach possess much more class and are at maturity levels you both obviously could never achieve if you actually tried. I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty, as you’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income and never worked a day in your lives, but some people actually have responsibilities and obligations, not just classes they can skip whenever they feel like it. So have a little respect and lower the volume a few notches.

This time you get a warning, but if the noise persists, I will be forced to contact law enforcement. Have a lovely day drinking your Starbucks lattes and trying to get rid of what I hope are nasty hangovers.

Sincerely,

The tired and cranky guy from 8C, thanks to his loud, annoying neighbors

P.S. The blonde who took my brown dress shoe owes me a new pair seeing as it now reeks of Pinot Grigio, thank you very much.

My nostrils flare before I even finish reading the letter. The audacity of this asshole! He doesn’t even know us, hell he hasn’t even met me in person, yet he makes all kinds of false assumptions about us.

I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty.

What the actual fuck?! Harper and I both wake up at the crack of dawn to go to work at the hospital, and we’re constantly on our feet for at least twelve hours. We only work three days a week, but our jobs are emotionally and physically draining; I mostly use the other four days to sleep, recover, clean the apartment and run errands. So, for someone to say we don’t work or ever get our hands dirty is a blow to the gut. We’re nurses for crying out loud! Getting our hands dirty is part of the job!

Another remark of his that irks me: We’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income. My parents would actually laugh out loud if they read this comment. They always tell me how independent I am. Hell, I wouldn’t even allow them to pay for my schooling even though they wanted to; I wanted to do it all on my own, so I had two jobs while I went to college. They also weren’t too happy when I took a job in New York, but they told me if anyone could handle herself in a big city, it was me. Not to mention, Harper had it way worse than me, growing up.

But the fact that this douchebag is so ridiculously wrong about us makes me smile a little. It will feel so goddamn good to make him see the error of his ways.

I’m still carrying the letter with me as I go to my bedroom closet and grab my stationary from the top shelf. I take out a sheet of paper and a pen from the box, replace it on the shelf and return to the kitchen. I hate the idea of using my good paper on this asshole, but if I’m going to stoop to his level and leave a note on his door, I might as well do it with class.

“What’s the note about?” Harper asks with furrowed brows. “I paid the rent just in the nick of time.”

“It’s not from management.” I take the pen and paper to the table and start writing out a letter. “It’s from our friendly neighbor in 8C,” I say sarcastically.

Her eyes widen as she reaches for the letter. “What did he say?”

I look up and hand it to her.

When she reads it over, the sleepiness in her eyes morphs into anger. “What the hell?! Who does he think he is? He doesn’t even know us!”

“Exactly.” I look down again at the paper and continue the sentence I was working on.

I can feel her staring at me as I write. “What are you doing?”

“Replying to him,” I say without taking my eyes off the page.

“What, are we in elementary school?”

“According to him, we are.”

“He’s just a douchebag, you can’t take anything he says seriously.”

I almost laugh. Normally she’s the one wanting revenge when someone wrongs her, and I’m the one having to talk her out of it. “Maybe, but this will teach him not to make assumptions about people.”

After I’m finished, I let her read it before I tape it to his door. I head to work with a smile on my face. This should teach him not to be such a dickhead.

Chapter Five

Brady

Dear self-righteous butthole in 8C,

~~~

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