#like hes been manipulating this boy since the start it makes me want to throw up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

retiredteabag · 2 months ago

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The Open Window Lets The Rain In

pairing: satoru x reader (semi suguru x reader)

synopsis: Your time at Jujutsu Tech was something of a sanctuary for you. The position you were born for did not allow you wishes of your own. Resigning yourself to your destiny, you savor the moments you have with your friends. And don't dare to wish for more.

tags/warnings -angst to eventual fluff, multi pov, canon compliant, series, mentions of child abuse, manipulation, malnutrition, violence, injuries, and smoking-

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"We ought to start back, Satoru." The other boy urged, parroting the concerns of their teacher. But while Satoru pretended not to hear his dark-haired classmate, you truly hadn't. Your focus was all too consumed by the people in the distance. Laughing and enjoying their day together, oblivious to the fact that they carried with them every unspoken wish silently held within your heart comfortably in their grasp.

"Huh?" You murmured, looking back up to your classmates ahead of you, realizing they had been calling your name for some time.

"Get a move on! Unless you want Yaga to lecture us all again!" Satoru shouted back to your nodding face. The boys turn from you and you shake the thoughts from your head.

It was time to turn back.

You had been quite young when your cursed energy had presented, and you have been paying for it ever since.

It had barely been six months since you began classes at the Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. You had joined in your second year, having spent your first over in the Kyoto branch. Near the end of your third semester Gakuganji, the school's principal, seemed certain that your potential would be better utilized in Tokyo. With this news, you had left without complaint.

Back then, you hadn't been sure you would fit in with the group of second years, but by the end of April, the small class had accepted you with open arms.

Your education prior to high school had been selective and rigorous, not in the academic sense but rather, in the physical. This, paired with your immense cursed energy made it easy to catch up with your fellow special-grade classmates.

Satoru Gojo was not at all what you had been expecting. He was immature and flamboyant. He seemed not to have a care in the world. Just as you had anticipated, however, his strength was insurmountable.

Suguru Geto was lenient and sarcastic. Like you, his parents were non-sorcerers. Even so, he went home to live with them during breaks, and his family accepted him for what he was.

Shoko Ieiri was the most laid back among the three, she also had the most technical skill. She was easy to like and the two of you had been fast friends. You both often made fun of the boys behind their backs.

"Do we really have to do this tonight, Geto?" Shoko is sat on the dorm room sink, lighter in hand.

"Don't tell me you're getting squeamish Shoko, need to take a breather?" Satoru is making a falsely pouty face as Shoko twirls a sewing needle between her fingers.

You're standing before Geto marking his earlobes with a pen.

"If anyone is squeamish it's you Satoru. But Y/n's got a mission tomorrow, she should be in bed." Shoko jumps off the sink, throws a look at the white-haired man and tilted her face to look between the markings you've made on Suguru's ears. "That looks pretty even."

"Awe boo hoo, a mission with the first years, so tough." Satoru rolls his eyes. "Why does Yaga always send you, anyway?" The man looks at the back of your frame. Your school jacket was strewn across Sugurus desk, you're clad in your dark, high-necked top. You've pulled your hair away from your face.

"He sends me because I'm responsible" You murmur, rubbing alcohol on the back of Suguru's ears, turning finally to smirk, "Unlike you three." You take the needle from Shoko and do your best to sterilize it with the flame, you set the earrings Geto chose on the side table next to him.

"Don't lump me in with those two." Shoko looks at you, offended, but you just laugh.

"Now, it might hurt a bit after I shove the jewelry in, just so you know." You meet Suguru's eyes. He looks calm, a grin present on his lips.

Satoru comes in close on the other side of you two. Loudly proclaiming, "Oh, please, if that tiny thing hurts he might as well not be a sorcerer." The boy's glasses are solid black but you can tell he is rolling his eyes dramatically.

You make a face at him but Suguru draws your attention once more. "Ignore him" he laughs, and you join in because you know that it is the very thing Satoru cannot stand. Said boy huffs beside you both.

"Alright, count of three." You stand to the boys left and you can see Satoru swallow thickly. Such a child.

Shoko is watching intently, stowing her lighter back in her pocket, you're leaning your knee against the bedframe Suguru is sat upon and Satoru is trying his best to even his breathing.

"One," you hold the tip of Sugurus ear, "two," you pick up the small black stud and roll it in your other hand, "three." You put the needle head on the tiny marking you put there, and press.

Suguru does not even flinch. Satoru lets out a pathetic noise and aggressively swings around so as not to look.

You try not to laugh while focusing on getting the jewelry in your classmates ear without too much pain but Shoko is toppling over herself with laughter.

"S-Satoru!!" She guffaws. "You are so-" but she can't finish, the giggles escaping steal her words.

Satoru is shuttering, having dashed in the bathroom now, he kneels by the sink, continually making disgusted sounds, running his hands over his arms to ease the chills.

"That wasn't so bad." You say, ignoring Satoru's noises. Shoko brings out a small mirror to show Suguru and he makes a pleased sound.

"Not at all..." He murmurs, turning his neck to get a better look.

"Leave it at the one." Satoru is back now, quickly crossing his arms. "I'm not watching that again."

"I bought a pair, Satoru, I'm doing them both." Suguru gives the boy a deadpan look and you prep the next earring while Satoru makes an annoyed "Ughhh" sound.

The self-proclaimed strongest sorcerer bites his knuckles while looking at the two of you. And when it's done, you worry he might faint. After a closer look though, he might just be in search of attention.

"All done. You should probably keep them clean." You turn to wash your hands.

"Mhmm, probably." Shoko echos, giggling still.

"Thanks." Geto stood up to look in a bigger mirror.

"Ughhhh Yaga is gonna kill you." Shoko looks up at Suguru and smiles, a sort of "tattle-tale" "I told you so" air to her voice.

"That's fine, it was worth it." Suguru waves her off, you give his ears one last look before making to leave with Shoko to your hall.

"Ohhhh yeah, I forgot! Y/n's got a big day tomorrow. So tiering, monitoring those first years." Satoru teases to the other boy. You chuckle and Shoko turns.

"As if you would know." She sticks her tongue out before making to leave with you, kicking the door shut.

"He's so stupid." She rolls her eyes, flipping her phone open.

You just hum, turning the halls in the silence.

The weather had long since grown warm in the ending weeks of spring, consistent as you were, however, you pulled your near-black turtleneck past your abdomen while dressing that morning. In the past, Shoko has jovially claimed you always wear the same thing, even outside of school.

Your uniform, customized to your comfort, consists of straight-cut, dark blue pants, your uniform jacket, and a form-fitted turtleneck. It did when you were at the Kyoto branch, and you have no intention of changing it now.

You shut the door of your closet, the rack of muted high-collar shirts hung there. Each tag was removed. Though easy now to ignore, you cannot avoid the region of sensitive flesh permanently branded just below your neck.

The early morning air is crisp, and in the time you have before shadowing Nanami and Haibara's mission, you allow yourself to enjoy the dull peace it brings to your morning.

Satoru thinks the first years are weak. Or maybe he just says that, you can never quite tell if he means all that he says. Regardless, they are skilled enough to handle a mission on their own. Even so, Yaga insists on someone monitoring them, after this years exchange event, if all goes well, perhaps they will be allowed to handle missions themselves.

You were hoping that your thoughts weren't too wishful when you are pulled from them, Haibara, adrenaline-filled and curious, calling your name.

"I've never really seen you use your technique, I mean, I guess that's the point, but I think I probably know more about Gojo's cursed energy than yours! And I barely ever see him!" Nanami is trailing slightly behind his classmate, listening to him ramble.

"Well" you hum, "That's good, don't you think? Just means you never need me to intervene on a mission." You look over and smile.

"Awe c'mon! What is it that you do? I'm so interested! I hope I can be a special grade one day too! Though, I doubt I ever will at this rate..." He mumbles around his words, seemingly too focused on his thoughts to actually be worried about his placement as a sorcerer.

"You already know about my technique, Haibara. I create weapons with my cursed energy. That's about it... I'm pretty lucky though, since they're not physical items, most curses can't really see them which means they can't tell what it is I'm using."

You lift your arm in front of yourself, palm up, in an instant your short sword appears there, held at equilibrium, a few inches up the blade. As soon as it appeared, the weapon melts away in your grasp and you look up at the boy, knowing he couldn't have seen what you'd just done.

"Except Gojo, right?" Nanami is beside you now, trying to meet your eyes. You turn to him.

"Yes..." sighing, you look up at him, "Yes, that's right- Gojo, he's the exception to a lot of things."

Nanami shakes his head, seemingly annoyed by this and Haibara bounds ahead of you both.

You can't be sure, but after today you have every confidence that this years exchange event will end well. And by next spring, you won't need to monitor the first years. With all that time on your hands, you can't imagine what you'll get up to.

Utahime was a fourth year when you were finally given liberty to come to Jujutsu Tech, despite her seniority, she has always felt like something of a little sister to you. You'd never tell her that though.

This is her first year as a full time sorcerer and her presence marks the onset of the exchange event. Her voice carries across the grounds as you make your way to stand by your classmates at the school entrance. A smile comes to your face as you watch her throwing visceral insults at Gojo as this is the only way she can attack him.

It's not her fault. He is cruel to her.

When she spots you, her gasp only makes your smile grow. She shrieks out your name, "AH! How I missed you! I feel SO bad you have to be here with THEM." She throws an anguished look at your classmates and Shoko only grins, knowing Utahime would never associate her with the two boys.

"Now that's just mean, Utahime, you-" Gojo is cut off as Iori spins around, pointing a finger at the younger boy and shouting that he ought to be more like you.

"She's so polite!" Utahime gives you a big hug. Her arms wrap snuggly around your neck and you flinch at the contact, playing it off as a movement to pat her shoulder.

"Why would I want to be more like anyone?" Gojo swings himself off of the stoop that leads to the schools entrance, landing with his arms lifted, "I'm already perfect!" He pushes his glasses back into his hair, his gaze seems to tease Utahime, she looks as though she wants to stomp her foot, but contains the urge.

"You are insufferable." She spins to look at you once more, "I'm rooting for you," She turns one more time to glance at Gojo, "and only you," she clarifies, "in the event. I know you'll do well. Be kind to the Kyoto first years." She gives you a pleading look.

"I'll be gentle with them." You smile at her and she grips your hand once more before dashing off, likely to help coach the students from her alma mater.

In the time you've been in Tokyo, one could understand your forgetting that Gojo Satoru has eyes behind those pitch glasses he wears. Rarely removing them, you hardly see the famed six-eyes, but when he looks down at you just then, his look pierces you in a startling way.

"Don't go easy on anyone, that's so lameeee." He extends the words and droops his head too look at you, "Ugh what's even the point of this whole thing when everyone is so weak."

"Gojo, they'll never get stronger if you beat them down too much." You speak from experience, having witnessed this "invisible lid" phenomena before, but he couldn't possibly know that.

"They'll never get strong at all, lets be honest." He laughs to himself and somewhere behind you both you hear Suguru pestering him about being entitled.

But deep down, you know he's right. Any sorcerer can improve but there are few set apart. Born with intention, with purpose, and you have long since given up trying to evade the purpose of your existence.

As a child, days came and went the same as they do now, the one consistent aspect that remained true in those days was the dull ache, that- evidently eternal- buzzing on either side of your spine.

It was difficult to enjoy the exchange event when your mind was elsewhere. You simply could not tare your subconscious away from the dread that swam within you at the advent of summer break. It was clear at the grins of your classmates that you were the only one with wishes of staying at school for the summer holiday.

None of your classmates were familiar with the Residential Boarding for Children with Unattended Cursed Energy. They either came from sorcerer clans, or they had parents that couldn’t mind or know of their abilities. Gakuganji, the principal of the Kyoto school seemed well informed about the "goings-on" at the estate you were raised however.

You had been taken by the boarding school with little memory of your life prior. Cursed Energy rarely presented itself in children younger than five years old, however, your technique developed early, and was unexplainable to parents without knowledge of the Jujutsu world.

Allowed to be trained from a young age by competent sorcerers, it was easy to see how the boarding school might have been portrayed as a charity, or even a blessing to orphaned young. Gakuganji certainly made it out to be. Even so, what went untold were the secrets just below the surface of the dojos and dorm rooms seen by the public.

Nearly all forms of gambling or organized fights (outside of mixed martial arts competitions) were highly illegal in Japan. Having said that, you learned quickly that those drawn to violence and risk were often willing to go to the most extreme lengths to take part in the underground world hidden from the eyes of law abiding citizens.

And you, as well as many other children with unbridled cursed energy were forced to take place in the bloodthirsty entertainment so enjoyed by those that put little value in human life.

In your future years, you might be surprised to know, the scars etched into your back would hold little to no significance in your daily life, at this moment, however, as a child with no claim on your autonomy, the bar that was so neatly tailored to your neck dug its wired talons into your scapula, void of electricity, yet still unforgettably present.

Before you was a feast to your young eyes, fresh bread, marinated beef on rice, pork dumplings, roasted vegetables, and baked potatoes. This was the best meal you had received in your time as a ring fighter. It was fair to say that the motivation of a good meal was encouraging enough for you to take aim at whomever stood askance in the opposing corner of the ring.

Heads across the room shot to the door as soon as the entrance to the hall was slammed.

"Shame you couldn't get your act together." Came a deep voice in the hall, firm boots echoed up the stony floors.

As the adults approached the guarded off room you sat in, the noise of a struggle worked its way closer as well. A frustrated grunt came from one of the men who looked to be tugging a young boy by the arm into the space.

"Alright. That does it." A dull buzz was heard and most everyone in the room visibly turning away from the scene. Eyebrows pulled down, gazes averted, knowing exactly what the boy in the mans grasp was feeling.

"I swear they do it to themselves." The man who once held the boy removed his finger from the device on his hip. The boy collapsed in a heap on the floor. Barely-there breaths escaping him.

"If ya had behaved you could've eaten with the rest of the kids. See where making a fuss gets you?" The toe of the mans shoe was gently placed under the boys jaw, one might think the man about to kick the child but the next moment, his figure had turned and he was walking off. The opened door left behind as a mockery to the onlooking boys and girls.

You knew what the man had been saying, the boy could be eating right now with the rest of the kids, but each student was only allowed one meal per time block, and none of the children sat on the tables were willing to give up the little bit of stew allotted to them that night.

The boy on the floor looked far too weak still to get up and scan his bar for dinner. You had already felt slightly sickened by the abundance before you, but now, with the child laying a few feet from your spot by the wall, you had decided.

That was how you had met Kaito.

He had been far older than you when he was accepted by the program. In the later years, the mentors would come to learn he had little cursed energy. Not very strong. Not much good for entertainment.

Those who could not fight. Did not eat. Or at least, did not eat well.

You looked out for Kaito back then, sharing your meals with the boy. And he had looked out for you in other ways. Being one of the most known students among the crowd awarded you many good meals, and more experience training your technique, but did not grant you much time of study. Kaito excelled where you fell short, and frequently insisted on tutoring you, eventually, you both would find joy in the stories he would read to you while you massaged your limbs after fights.

Kaito was the only one you looked forward to seeing as you exited the station and made the trek back to your off-season boarding. He was eighteen now, and had not been used for entertainment training purposes since he was taken on by the grounds crew.

When you had first left for Kyoto, he had an established job as a groundskeeper. Now, his tenure at the estate might very well be coming to an end and you were unsure how you planned to move forward without him there.

It was already challenging enough, leaving Shoko, Geto, and Gojo with a smile, but at least you knew you would see them again. Was it selfish to wish Kaito could remember you, even as he inevitably goes on to pursue a normal life?

And then even worse, would it be wrong of you, to feel the weight of envy on your shoulders?

These questions swirl in your mind as you stand before the estate, it was clear that in the time you had been away, funding for the school had grown to new heights. Crossing the threshold, a hand on your duffel, you make your way to the communal dorms, picking an open bed, and sprawling across its length.

Unfortunately, this place smelled of home. Five weeks seemed too cruel a sentence for the turning of the season.

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hearts4werka · 1 month ago

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NNN day 1 | "Don't Do This Again."

summary: a heated argument with your boyfriend Matt who’s the fuckboy of the town about him sleeping with another girl at a party you attended last night but are you going to give him another chance, or value your well being and break things off?

warnings: ANGST, arguing, cheating (do not even try), swearing, no happy ending, slapping, not proofread & possibly more?

authors note: first day of NNN means the first blurb, hope y’all enjoy this and sorry if it’s kinda rushed and short I just need to get this done by morning since I have quite a bit on my head today, luv y’all so much!

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

“It was just this one time, cmon now!” He argued, throwing his hands in defense and trying to justify his actions in any way. I can’t believe the audacity he has to think anything of what he did was okay, he’s just another typical fuck boy. “I don’t care! You fucking promised me you wouldn’t do this to me like you did the other girls! I can’t believe I trusted you.” I yell back, feeling my frustration filling the air around me as our words echo through the room.

“Don’t be like this, I promise it won’t happen again but for real this time.” He says softly with a lower octave, attempting to get closer to me and get a grasp on my arm but I step away as soon as he reaches his arm out in my direction. “Oh don’t start with this bullshit, you’ve said it too many times already for anyone to believe it.” I argue back, rolling my eyes out of annoyance. Ive forgave him enough times already.

“Please, I really promise. Baby don’t leave me.” He said as I noticed desperation starting to rise in his eyes, I felt a slight prick of symopathy pierce through my heart. Ive given him enough chances I would be betraying my morals by staying, but he looks so desperate. "I dont think youre worth the heartbreak anymore, I'm sorry but we cant be together anymore" as the words left my mouth, I saw something crush in his eyes, his face still shadowed with faint hope. He approached me again and tried to hold onto me again, "y/n, cmon we can work this out y'know? just stay with me and we'll figure this out."

He inhales a sharp breath before continuing. "I might have been not the best boyfriend but I seriously promise ill change for you." he pleads, looking at me as if hes about to drop to his knees and worship me just in hopes to make me stay. I can feel the pain hes experiencing as it radiates off him but I turn away because I cannot stare into his eyes any longer, I hear him sniffle behind me. "y/n dont be ridiculous, we've done this before and we can do it again." he finally manages to grap my arm, his grip being tight and desperate to hold on. I remain in my stance facing the door of his bedroom and ready to storm out, suddenly he pulls at my arm and forces me to face him directly. "are you seriously just going to walk away from all of this? leave us behind?" i hear slight frustration rise in his voice, annoyance starting to now shadow his features.

"I can't let you keep breaking my heart like that, Matt! you really have to stop with doing this to every girl you're with." I state and spare him a single glare before attempting to escape his grip which only makes it tighter and now more angrier, I notice the slow chances in his apperance as well as actions. Them becoming frustrating and mean, the polar opposite of what he looked before, nothing new. He always used it to manipulate me into antthing he wanted but its not going to work on me now. "Don't even fucking try to get away from this conversation, you're staying and theres no discussion." He orders sternly, obviously making it his mission to force me into staying with him. "Matt, you're being unbelievable right now seriously. This needed to end eventually and you knew it." I answer, my temper visibly starting to rise in my tone of voice.

I roll my eyes at him, sharpingly yanking my arm out of his vice grip and storm out of the room as Matt follows right behind me. "I'm being unbelievable? oh please, dont make me laugh right now." He huffs, I turn around to glare at him and now see him fully change from plead and desperation to annoyance and frustration. I almost don’t recognize him, he takes slow steps towards me and stops a few meters away. “You’re even lucky I picked to date you out of all of the girls I can have.” He mocks, looking at me as if I’m the most pathetic human ever. Its crazy how much he changed in the span of just few minutes, it just proved how manipulative he can be.

“Who are you?” I question, angry tears filling my eyes at the thought that he could have never even truly loved me and just pretended to care when I gave him all of the chances he had now completely lost. “Oh how the tables have changed now, huh? Looks who’s now the one crying.” An evil chuckle echos through the hallway, he slowly walks towards me and I back away until my back hits the wall with a soft thud. His face comes inches close to mine, observing my pissed off expression as false hope shadows my features.

“You’re such a worthless little bitch-“ before he could finish his bullshit sentence, I deliver a deserved hard slap across his face. Slapping noice echos throughout the house as he becomes speechless, taking advantage of his frozen state I slip out from between him and the wall and dart to the front door. Escaping into my car as I faintly hear him yell out. “Where the fuck are you going?” By the time he gets outside of the front door I quickly start the car and drive off, letting the tears from my eyes fall freely without any restrain as the last time I see him press his back on the front door with an unsatisfied look on his face.

Guestlist!

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saintsugu · 1 year ago

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BROTHERLY LOVE. KINKTOBER DAY 1

rating: Mature; mdni

pairing: Step-brother!Megumi x reader

word count: 3.6k

contents: step/pseudo cest, heavy dub con, manipulation from megumi, megumi’s obsessed with purity, rich boy!megumi, vouyerism, masturbation, no prep, slight choking and coercion from yuuta at the end, megumi’s referred to mostly as reader’s brother.

author’s note: first thing i’ve fully written in over a year and it’s a kinktober post…😵‍💫 thank you to all the lovely people who beta’d this for me<3 @dilfhos @iwaasfairy @bunparade

You hear shuffling on the other end, presumably as he gets up to get the door for you.

Taking advantage of his three day weekend, Megumi invited you to spend the themat his apartment off-campus. You haven’t been able to see him much since the start of the semester, so you were glad to take him up on his offer.

You’d only met Megumi three years ago, the night his father and your mother announced their…impromptu engagement. Neither of you were really thrilled, but the entire situation was brightened infinitely when you started to get to know your soon-to-be step brother.

He was always so sweet to you. He would take you out for food, or on shopping sprees— using his daddy’s card to buy you whatever you so much as glanced at. A lot of the time, it was just the two of you at home and he always made sure you weren’t lonely. Honestly, he spoiled you rotten, so how could you be upset with the arrangement?

Toji, though, was a bit…off-putting. He was a lot meaner than his son. You would hear him make comments about how ditzy you were, and it hurt a lot. Thankfully, Megumi was always there to cheer you up.

You were so upset when he started university. He only visited on the holidays— sometimes not even then. The house felt so empty. You couldn’t help but miss your big brother. So when he came back for the summer, you were beyond grateful. Suddenly, your schedule was full again as the two of you spent every second together.

Naturally, you were overjoyed when he reached out. Life was getting boring just staying at home, and besides, you just missed him so much. School had never really been your thing, so you didn’t follow your step-brother to college— despite wanting to —and your step-father was kind enough to let you live at home for free, so you didn’t work a job. It was a mostly stress-free life, but without your brother around, it’d gotten a bit…dull.

When he called you, you were quick to throw a few outfits in a suitcase and catch the soonest train. You made sure to leave a scribbled little note for your mother to inform her of your whereabouts before taking off.

The train ride is hellishly long, but it’s all worth it when you see your step brother outside the door. He’s smiling warmly, wearing a sweater and some gray sweats as he greets you.

“Hey,” he’s quick to pull you into his arms. He smells good— like freshly sprayed cologne with hints of cedar and vanilla. You’re far too enthralled by his warmth to notice his hands creeping down a little further than warranted, or the way he lifts up the hem of your skirt, his dick twitching a bit as he takes note of your panties. “Come on in.”

The second you step foot into the spacious apartment, you’re met with a pungent smell. It’s so strong that it makes your nose scrunch up. You’ve smelled it before— at a few different parties, but why is it in your brother’s apartment?

“Sorry about the smell. My friends were just here a bit ago.” It’s not exactly a lie, but the red tint of his eyes is more than enough to prove that he was indulging, too.

You spend the afternoon catching up with Megumi, listening intently as he tells you censored versions of what he’s been up to. He can tell how starstruck you are as you listen with bated breath. It might make him sick, but he loves how you’ve always hung off his every word.

Ever since he was young, Megumi has watched his father go through women like they were nothing more than objects. The same rang true for the friends he started to gain in high school, and it wasn’t just the boys. He found that all of the girls were quite…promiscuous.

He never thought there was anything necessarily wrong with it— until he met his sweet little step-sister, that is.

That night at dinner, you were just so kind, nothing at all like the girls at his private school. They were all snobby and too good for him, but you, you were perfect; you are perfect. You’ve always been so malleable and kind hearted. He knew from the first time you went to get ice cream in his Cadillac, the way you apologized until there were tears filling your sweet eyes over a bit of spilled sprinkles. God, you’ve had him wrapped around your dainty little finger from the moment he met you.

“I was thinking we could go to brunch tomorrow.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch as he leans back, his ankle coming up to drape across his other knee. On cue, you pad over from where you are in his kitchen, plopping down right next to him. “There’s a cute little joint nearby that I know you’ll love.”

His kind words warm your chest, making your cheeks rise into a smile. He’s always looking out for you or thinking of you. He’s even sent you a few dresses while he’s been away! They’re a bit….small, but you figure he just got your sizing wrong. Either way, it’s the thought that counts, right?

“Tonight, though, I was wondering if you wanted to meet some of my friends. They were all excited when I told them you were visiting.” Too excited for Megumi’s liking. “It won’t be a lot, just three or four guys coming over for a bit. Only if you want, though.” Even before you answer, he knows that you’ll say yes. You’d never deny him anything, but it makes him look good if he gives you an out.

“Oh that’ll be fun!” You grin innocently. “We can watch movies.”

God, he loves the way you beam at him. Your innocence is such a refresher. But, as much as he loves it, you also make him want to tear it away from you before anyone else can. Sometimes, he just wants to break you down and build you back up from scratch. He knows it’s sick— that he shouldn’t feel like this towards his supposed sister, but he can’t help it. It’s just the way his mind works.

As the clock starts to slip into the evening hours, there are continuous knocks at his front door, all one after another. Yuuji Itadori is the first to arrive. You’ve met him once before, during Thanksgiving break when Megumi brought him along. His rambunctious voice and laugh fills the air of Megumi’s, otherwise, stale apartment. A girlish giggle erupts from your lips when Yuuji slaps your step-brother on the back a little too hard, causing him to swear in pain and you both laugh at the scowl he shoots his way.

Yuuji is quickly followed by Kokichi Muta. He’s much more timid in comparison. It’s a bit…confusing when you notice the light dusting of pink on his cheeks when he lays eyes on you.

Next, Noritoshi Kamo, and lastly— and arguably the most important out of the four— Yuuta Okkotsu.

Megumi has been trying to find himself in Yuuta’s good graces since his first semester of his freshman year. Not only is Yuuta two grades his senior, but he’s the vice president of the fraternity Megumi has been wanting to rush since his junior year of high school.

Megumi’s kind enough to introduce you to his friends, but you can feel your cheeks heat up when their eyes linger for a little longer than you’d expect. They all make themselves comfortable on the two couches, hands wrapped around the beer’s bottleneck while they snicker amongst themselves. You’ve been keeping Megumi company in the kitchen, but not paying enough attention to notice the amount of drinks he had brought to the couch. When he finally sits down, you’re close behind him.

“Here, have some,” he opens the bottle of beer and hands it to you, despite the confused look on your face. He knows you don’t drink, but he also knows that means your tolerance is nonexistent and that it's going to make his life a lot easier.

Any words of rebuttal get stuck in your throat. Your eyebrows pull into a frown, but you sheepishly take the drink anyway. You don’t like being intoxicated; Megumi calls it an irrational fear, but you can’t help it. The drink feels foreign in your hands, but he’d never do anything to hurt you, right?

Despite the sour taste of the beer, you swallow it anyway. You don’t want to embarrass Megumi by acting like a fool in front of his friends. Yuuji starts a conversation and soon enough, you’ve finished the bottle. Unfortunately, you’re too preoccupied running your mouth to notice when Megumi sets another in your hand, and you obediently continue sipping.

You don’t even know how many you’ve downed by the time you pause and realize your head feels dizzy. Megumi finds it adorable— the way your face flushes and your words start to slur. You try and fail to whisper to him about how tired you are, and it earns a snicker from Yuuta. Good, he thinks. I need to keep his attention.

“C’mere.” You don’t think much when Megumi pats his lap. Your movements are much more sluggish and there’s a surge of warmth in your chest that you can’t quite place as you climb onto him, nuzzling your head into his neck. Everything feels so overwhelming, especially when you hear his friend whistle. You don’t know why, and you’re too out of it to ask or even guess why. Little do you know, it’s because your tiny skirt has been flipped up for everyone to get a glimpse of your ass.

“Shit, y’gonna share, right?” There’s a nasty grin on Noritoshi’s face as he takes a long sip from his beer.

“You wish,” Megumi mumbles lowly, a dark and possessive tone underlying his seemingly nonchalant words. Strong hands slide down your body before landing on your hips. “Hey, pretty.” His voice is just a whisper, but you know that he’s talking to you.

“Yeah, ‘Gumi?” You ask sweetly. He loves when you call him that. Despite it just being a variation of his name, he finds it so fucking adorable that his cock jumps in his pants every time he hears it.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” He feels you nod and he can’t help but smile at how pliant and ready you are to please him. “Nothing new,” he whispers, and you can’t help but shiver a bit.

“We’re just gonna do what we usually do—play how we do when it’s just us,” a soft hand traces hearts on your bare thigh. “And we’re gonna pretend like my friends aren’t here, okay?”

What?

This all feels…weird, and a little scary. But you know that your big brother would never hurt you— of course not! But what if he’s friends with bad men and doesn’t know it? What if…what if something goes wrong?

His words confuse you. Usually, when you’re playing together in the way he means, he always tells you not to do it with anyone else, that it should be reserved for your brother only, so why is he changing his mind?

“I asked a question, baby.” His once soft touch turns firmer until you squeak out an unsure okay, the sound muffled against the crook of his neck. “Good girl,” he purrs. “Y’always so good for me.”

You’re no longer able to think about how anxious and unsure you are as your step-brother pulls you into a soft kiss. Soon, he’s filling up every one of your senses. He’s the only thing you can feel, smell, or hear, and it’s nearly suffocating.

It’s simple, really. He knows every single thing that turns you on and drives you insane; hell, he created those things. When you met, you were a virgin who didn’t even know what oral was.

Despite his overwhelming touches, your attention isn’t stuck on him. His friends are all slumped back on the couch and staring straight at you. Their gazes make you feel trapped. There’s a tightening in your chest before Megumi's stern voice breaks you out of your trance. “Don’t look at them,” he scolds, a soft hand redirecting your jaw. “C’mon, baby, look at me.”

Nothing in the world can get him as hard as he is when he sees that look on your face—those big, near tearful eyes that are just begging for him to make it all better.

As much as he wants to take care of you, there’s still a part of him, a sick and twisted part of him that sits right beneath the surface, too deep down to ignore. That's what’s making him do this. Megumi believes that these feelings can only be attributed to his father’s genetics. It’s not his fault that he wants to ruin you. He knows someone will take advantage of your naivety one day, so why can’t it be him? He deserves that much, doesn’t he?

“You know I’d never hurt you.” You wouldn’t know the difference, he thinks to himself. You look so worried, but he can’t figure out why. Most of the time, there’s not a single thought in that pretty little head of yours, so what’s running through it now? Honestly, he doesn’t care too much; instead, his hand continues to slide down your back with no regard for your anxiety.

Despite his words, he can tell you’re anxious. It irritates him a bit, but instead of letting it show, he just leans back against the couch. “Go ahead, baby. Take that shirt off for me.” The thumb rubbing circles into your inner thigh encourages you.

Your throat feels dry as your big brother puts you on the spot. Nerves shoot through your body at the mere prospect of upsetting him. The thought of him being disappointed in you is a quick way to get your shaky hands pulling at your skimpy tank top.

Manicured nails tug at the hem of it, eyes trained only on Megumi as you pull it over your head. The air feels bitter when it hits your skin but heat from Megumi’s burning gaze warms you.

“Good girl.” His praise makes you melt, especially with all that booze in your system. You can’t even remember how much he had you drink. Every time you even began to try and protest, he would just press the rim to your lips and tell you to drink.

A hand on your waist pulls you in, and it’s not long before he has his tongue halfway down your throat. You’re so overwhelmed with simply trying to breathe that you don’t see Megumi pull his cock out. It’s already hard— pretty much has been since you arrived, and he’s not at all sly as he pulls your panties to the side.

In contrast to yours that are screwed shut, his eyes are wide as they meet with Yuuta. Fuck, Yuuta’s gaze is piercing. It’s so clear that he’s judging him. Yuuta is leaning back into the cushion, his ankle crossed over his leg and his expression reads as if he’s bored. And that only spurs Megumi on further. He’s so desperate to show off in front of the man.

He won’t admit it, but he’s had a slight crush on the man since he started University; honestly, it’s evident in the way his cock pulses simply from Yuuta’s judgemental stare.

“G-Gumi..!” You gasp into his open lips, taken completely off guard. In the past, he’s always talked you through it. He would make sure you were prepped thoroughly before trying to nestle deep inside of you. Now, though, you can’t help but feel he’s being mean as he lifts your hips, just to force you down on his cock.

“Shit,” Noritoshi laughs, palming himself through his sweats. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Fushiguro.” His words earn a disgruntled scowl from Megumi. In turn, you feel his hands grip you impossibly tighter, as if he’s visibly laying claim to you.

He ignores his taunts, far too focused on his baby sister’s sweet and tight cunt. Fuck, it’s tighter than he remembers. Knowing you, you never did so much as finger yourself while he’s been away. This past summer, he told you that he’d know if you had. Thankfully for him, you were naive enough to believe him.

Soon enough, you’re tucked against his chest as he grinds you over his cock. You squeeze the fabric of his shirt between dainty hands; your hold is so tight he’s worried the threads will snap. The shirt’s quite expensive, so he should care about you potentially ruining it, but he can’t bring himself to when he’s balls deep inside of you.

A vicious grin finds his face when he takes in the state of his apartment. Noritoshi and Kokichi shamelessly have their cocks out, jacking off lazily to the sight in front of them. Yuuji, on the other hand, takes a more…reserved approach. His lip is tucked between his teeth, nearly quivering as he not-so-discreetly palms his painfully hard cock.

As you near your orgasm, Megumi takes advantage of your fucked out state. Usually, he’s so sweet and gentle, but tonight, he can’t help but be a little rough as he forces you into a new position. He manhandles you until you’re face down, with your tits pressed into the glass table.

As much as he loves your tits, Megumi’s always been a sucker for this angle. With his hands having free reign of your ass, he could never get tired of the view.

You’re pulled out of your near orgasmic high and thrown into the reality of who’s watching. “I-I…” you stammer nervously, still whimpering as Megumi fucks into you.

“Hey, pretty,” Noritoshi teases, leaning in slightly. “You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you?”

You’re quick to deny his accusation. “‘Gumi says ‘m a good girl…” you turn your head to look at your big brother. “…right, ‘Gumi?”

“Yeah, you are.” He’s groaning as his pace picks up, making your toes curl as you grip onto nothing. He’s fighting back the urge to cum with every thrust. “My good girl.”

Your eyes roll when he hits deep inside of you—the sight is something straight out of a porno as your tits slide against the glass surface. All you have on is a skimpy little bralette, one that any of these guys could snap with ease. With your tongue lolling out, every single guy in the room, with Yuuta being the exception, is groaning and pumping just a bit faster.

Yuuta, on the other hand, is just watching. Not once as he adjusted himself or even re-situated on the couch. He almost looks…bored, and that worries Megumi beyond belief.

“Fuck, Fushiguro, y’gotta let me get in on this. At least let me take her throat or something.” All Noritoshi’s doing is running his mouth and it’s starting to get on his nerves. In no world is he letting any of these vile men get their greedy hands on his baby sister. You’re too pure for that.

“Be quiet,” he snaps, rough hands tugging at the fat of your hips. His eyes cut at his friend, a sinister look in them. The boy backs off, if only for now as Megumi gets closer to his high.

You feel something brewing in your lower stomach. It’s not unfamiliar— you only get it with Megumi, but it’s more…intense this time. Instead of the slow and gentle buildup you usually get, this time it’s hurtling at you.

“Gumi,” you stammer out, eyes still rolling as your acrylics scrape at the table. “D-don’t know what’s happening….!”

He’s quick to shush you. The last thing he needs is your whining ruining his orgasm. “‘S okay, baby,” he purrs, a firm hand wrapping around your neck as he pushes you cheek-first into the glass. “Gonna feel good, I promise.”

His pace grows erratic with his approaching orgasm being so close. His dick pulses inside of you and with one last groan, he pushes deep inside of you as his orgasm washes over.

His entire body shivers in its wake, and that feeling is only amplified when you start to twitch as well. Your cunt grows impossibly tight as your pleasure peaks, and your walls milk him of every drop of his cum— so much so, that it’s starting to leak out and drip down your inner thighs.

“Good girl.” He’s completely out of breath, but he knows the praise is what you need. The small sobs and hiccups that escape your lips are clear indicators of the praise you’ll need from your big brother. “Did so good, baby…”

A soft hand traces up and down your body and he can’t help but feel a little smug when he sees that three out of the four men came as well— Yuuji, unfortunately in his pants.

But that’s only three, he realizes. It seems that Yuuta disappeared between now and right before his orgasm hit. Where could he have gone—

“That was good.” His voice is low in Megumi’s ear as he leans over the couch. Megumi freezes and he swears that the hairs on his neck stand up. His nearly soft cock twitches a bit at the praise.

“Now why don’t you let me have a try and I’ll see what I can do about extending a bid.”

tagging: @pussydrunkfyodor @kkittycries @saintriots @chaoticmoonave @enchantedforest-network

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #.kinktober 2023 #tw stepcest #.ezra’s writing #.file } megumi

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nightsmarish · 7 months ago

Text

Summary: you and Sirius think James would look hot with blonde highlights

Poly!prongsfoot x reader (James Potter x reader x Sirius black) | 500+ words

A/n: I am so sorry this is so short omg, I've been weirdly busy the past few days and it's been hard to find time to write

Tw: rave mentioned, reader has dyed their hair before, sleepy James, I am still learning to write James, illusions to possible smut at the end

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊⊹₊ ✰ ⋆★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊⊹₊ ✰

Sirius' record player is on in the background, softer than usual. James is resting his head on your stomach. Both of you splayed out on the sofa.

Sirius is sitting on the ground, the coffee table moved to the side to make room in front of him as he makes his next outfit for a rave he mentioned, likely also planning on how to get you to let him make one for you as well.

James is barely coherent at this point; a long day making him sodding exhausted and extremely prepared for the weekend. Your nails rake through his curls, still slightly wet from his shower.

"You know, Jamie, you'd look good with dyed hair."

Jamse barely gives a sign he heard you, tightening his hold on your back and burying his face further into your shirt like he wants under your skin.

Sirius looks over at you two, "you're right, he'd look bloody hot with blonde streaks or something."

You move James head so you can see his face, squishing his cheeks, glasses already discarded on a side table. "You would look fucking hot with blonde streaks, dear Merlin."

Your other boyfriend places down the wire and needle nose pliers he's using to move closer to the couch, "you want some blonde in your hair, baby?"

He moves his face out of your hands, laying back on your stomach. "wha' 'ver you wan'" James' voice is slurred with sleep.

ᯓ★

That's how you got her a week later; you sat on the counter top of your bathroom sink, and Sirius putting on his latex gloves to mix bleach.

James sits on a wooden stool, that has seemed to make its way around the entire house since you bought it, wearing a extremely stained shirt both you and Sirius have worn while dying your own hair.

"Any regrets, lover boy?" You shimmy on the counter to sit infront of the tanner of the two boys.

"I think that it's unjust for you to manipulate me in my sleep to get me to dye my hair." James grabs your ankles, hands rubbing up and down your shins.

"You could talk; it's got to count for some kind of awareness to what's going on." Sirius grins at his counterpart, mixing the bleach and walking behind James.

"So cruel, both of you, so cruel." He juts out his bottom lip, looking up at you with a pout.

"You haven't pulled out yet, so I'm starting to believe this is just a cute little act." Your grin is nearly identical to Sirius'.

"Don't talk to him about pulling out, love, we won't be able to finish before he gets restless." The darker haired boy laughs as he adjusts James head.

"Both, so, so bloody cruel."

ᯓ★

James' hair took to the dye pretty well, only ending up needing two rounds of bleach.

And fuck, you where right. He looks fucking hot. The blonde, thick, streaks that curl perfectly into his brown hair pattern.

"Bloody hell-" Sirius talks between kissing James "your look-" kiss "fucking delicous"

Sirius pauses for a second to look at you walking through the door of your home, throwing your bag to the ground and toeing off your shoes. "Come here, doll."

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golbrocklovely · 1 year ago

Text

a witching hour // sam golbach

A/N: so i actually thought of this fic as a colby fic first, but i needed a fic idea for sam and figured this one worked well for him as well. idk if you've ever seen halloweentown two, but there is a party scene where kalabar turns everyone into what their costumes are, and that's kinda what this one is like. except with a bit of sexy twist lol hope you enjoy and happy 13 nights of halloween !!

prompt: something is incredible off at sam and colby's halloween party. everyone is acting like their costumes, and nothing makes sense. and then you run into sam… dressed as a vampire. || fem!reader x sam golbach

trigger warning: vampire!sam, cursing, drinking, party scene, mentions of blood and killers but you don't see any of that, blood drinking obviously, crush-confession, twist ending?, manipulation powers used on reader, possessive language used by sam, also he's a bit of a dick in this lol but only slightly

word count: 3381

I constantly run late to everything: meetings, work, important events, and on this night... parties.

It was Sam and Colby's annual Halloween bash. After yet another successful Hell Week, the boys were throwing an all-out banger with every influencer in sight. And I, like usual, ran late to the party.

I'm not sure if you can be late to a party like this, but my texts from Sam and Colby said otherwise.

My excuse this time? I couldn't figure out my costume. I couldn't decide between two costumes, so I ended up going as a witch. Basic, I know, but classic. I finally called an uber, after pregaming a little at my apartment, and headed over to their place. On the way over, a flash of green lightning lit up the sky for a brief moment, in the same direction as their house. I stared at the window, puzzled. There's no way only one flash of thunder would happen if it was going to rain. Especially being green. It must have been a light show or fireworks nearby.

I got dropped off at the front of their house, sending them a quick text that I was outside. As I got to their gate, where usually there would have been a line with a security guard, there was nothing. Maybe I wasn't late after all and instead was super early. Checking the flyer they sent out, that wasn't true. It was already after midnight, and the party started at ten.

I walked into their property, shutting the gate behind me. I expected to see tons of people out front, since that usually was the case; but there was no one. The music was still playing loudly in the house, so there must have been people inside. As I walked towards the front door, I passed by a pile of Barbie dolls.

Who would bring a bunch of Barbies with them?

I glanced at the dolls, bending down, and picking one up. She was very pretty, but her outfit was unlike other Barbie fits I had seen before. Something about it was very revealing for a kids' toy. Granted, the last time I played with Barbies was when I was 10 so maybe my memory wasn't proof enough.

I stared at the doll's face a bit longer. Something about it was so familiar. She looked like someone I knew in the eeriest way. Staring at it too long, I thought I saw it blink. I lightly dropped the doll on the ground, standing back up again.

Just when I was about to open the front door, a soft 'meow' echoed behind me. I turned around and saw two cats, one all black and then another one.... that was pink.

Who the hell would dye their cat pink?

I wanted to reach out and pet them, but they scattered from the noise in front of me. The front door had opened on its own. I stepped forward, walking into Sam and Colby's home.

The place was completely trashed.

Furniture was ripped up, the mirror was smashed in, tables flipped over, cups all over the ground. It looked like a stampede ran through the house. I walked over the broken glass, looking around for anyone. I could see out the back door that no one was there either. Or if they were, they were hiding.

"Sam? Colby? Guys?" I called out, trying to reach for a light.

"Don't do that!" Responded a soft voice from a closet nearby.

I turned around and saw a friend of mine, Sarah, dressed as Rapunzel. She waved me over, opening the door quickly. I jumped over the broken furniture and made it over to her.

"Sarah, what the hell happened?" I asked as she closed the door.

"I'm sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else. My name is Rapunzel." She smiled.

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, very funny, Sarah. But tell me. What happened? Did someone break into the house?"

"I don't really remember everything that happened. Everyone was outside, having fun. It was like the lantern festival! And then, a witch appeared on top of the house and yelled out something. It must have been a spell of some sort. And everybody started running." Sarah gasped, recounting the tale.

"How is that possible? And lantern festival? Why are you taking this costume to heart? I don't think this is the time for that." I glared, annoyed.

"This isn't a costume. This is how I always dress." She argued quietly.

"Rapunzel!" Someone yelled from behind the door. "Let me in! It's Velma."

"What's the password?" Sarah questioned, raising up a frying pan in defense.

Where the fuck did you get a frying pan from?

"Scooby snacks." Replied the voice.

"Oh okay," Sarah opened the door politely. "It is you Velma! I just had to be sure."

"You can never be too safe out there." Alice, another friend of mine, responded. I glanced up and down at her costume: Velma. From Scooby Doo.

I huffed, "Okay, you both seriously need to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

They both gasped. Sarah covered her ears lightly, in unison they hushed, "Language!"

"You're kidding me, right?" I deadpanned.

"Who are you?" Alice questioned.

"This is.... uh," Sarah started, then turned to me, smiling. "You actually haven't said your name."

"I'm Y/N..... we've known each other for like five years?" I scowled.

"We have?" They replied.

I rubbed my temples, feeling like my brain was going pop out of my eyes from how annoyed and confused I was. "Alright, can either one of you explain what is happening right now? Quickly."

"I can't remember much, but I've been searching for some clues while I was running around the house. What I remember happening was a witch of some kind appeared on top of the roof-" Alice began.

"Said some form of spell, and everyone started running? Yeah, 'Rapunzel' told me that already." I quipped.

"It wasn't just any spell, it was spell turned everyone into their costumes... whatever that means." Alice stated, putting her hands on her hips.

My face dropped. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh! Green lightning flashed over the sky when she said the spell!" Sarah jumped, excitedly. "She must have been an evil witch."

"Witches aren't real. It most likely was a trick of light, kind of like what magicians use to hide their tricks." Alice mentioned.

"I saw the lightning on my way over here...." I shook my head, sighing. "There's no way this is real. You guys must be pranking me or something. Is this Sam and Colby's doing?"

"I don't know who a 'Sam' or 'Colby" is." Sarah replied innocently.

"The guys that invited you to this party??" I pulled out my phone, pulling up a picture that one of them had posted on their snapchats. "These guys!"

"The vampire one went upstairs, and the pirate one is outside fighting a prince in the backyard." Alice pointed out, pointing to Sam, and then Colby.

"Fighting? What do you mean by that?" I furrowed my brow.

"With swords." Alice said plainly.

"Oh no! Your hand is bleeding!" Sarah gaped, gazing at Alice's hand.

"I must have cut it looking around for clues." Alice commented.

"What clues are you even...." I grumbled, trailing off and glaring up at the ceiling.

Sarah wrapped her hair around Alice's hand, holding it lightly. She then began to sing. "Flower, gleam and glow..."

Her hair began to light up slowly, starting from her scalp and eventually ending at the ends of her braided hair.

I can only imagine how expense that wig was.

Sarah pulled her hair away from Alice's cut... and it was gone.

I blinked. "I'm sorry, am I super drunk right now, or did your hair just heal her cut?"

"Jinkies..." Alice whispered, staring at her hand and blushing.

I took a deep breath, needing to get out of this closet. "I'm gonna go find Sam."

"He's a vampire, right? My mom warned me about men with sharp teeth. Be careful." Sarah informed.

"Right..." I opened the closet door, turning back around for a moment. "Hey Alice? I mean, Velma?"

"Yes?" She asked.

I grabbed her glasses off her face, dropping them onto the floor.

Sarah, Rapunzel, whatever, frowned dramatically. "Well, that wasn't very nice.

"My glasses.... I can't see without my glasses." Alice, Velma, whatever waved her hands around, trying to find where I dropped them.

"You don't even wear glasses! Oh my God, you guys are the worst!" I groaned, stepping out the closet and shutting the door.

I rushed over to the stairs, needing to get upstairs as soon as possible. As I reached the top, I gazed down over the railing. I watched as someone dressed as Ghostface ran after.... Britney Spears.

Britney Spears was at this party? Like 'Baby One More Time' Britney? There's no way. Maybe they weren't joking about the witch turning everyone into- NO. This is all some weird joke, probably pulled by Sam and Colby because of how often I'm late.

This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this is NOT happening.

I opened the bedroom door to what used to be Colby's room. I wanted to see the entire backyard from a safe distance. The room was dark, the only light coming from outside by the drawn curtains. I raced over to the windows, looking around outside. The backyard was equally as trashed.

A man-wolf monster stood on top of the slide for the pool, letting out a deep, animalistic howl. By the basketball courts, Colby was sword fighting with a guy dressed in a prince costume. Other people, or characters, were hiding around, peaking out occasionally from their spots. And I swore for a moment I saw someone fly away on a broom stick.

"What the fuck?" I whispered, my eyes widening at the scene.

"It's dangerous out there." A familiar voice rang out.

I jumped, a squeak leaving my lips as I turned around. In the shadows of the room was Sam, gazing at me mischievously.

"Oh my God, Sam. You scared the shit out of me." I clutched my chest, taking a deep breath. "What the fuck is going on?"

"A witch did this to us." Sam replied casually.

"That's what Alice and Sarah said. That a witch turned everyone into their costumes. Wait, how do you remember?" I inquired.

He shrugged, stepping towards me. "I'm just a generic vampire. So I guess I remember everything, and I'm still me."

"And since Colby dressed up as a pirate, he thinks he's a swash-buckler?" I joked half-heartedly.

"I guess so." Sam chuckled.

I questioned, "How long will this last?"

"An hour. So, in ten minutes it will be over." He confirmed, crossing his arms tightly.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, "Oh, well that's good. Since I think I saw Ghostface trying to kill Britney Spears."

"That would be such a waste of blood..." Sam's voice deepened.

I leaned away from his voice, "That was kinda freaky of you to say."

He smirked. "I can't help it. I'm a vampire."

"For ten more minutes. Maybe stay over there until this is all over." I hissed, uncomfortable.

"Why?" He leaned towards me, still far away, "You think I'm gonna bite you?"

"Probably." I teased.

Sam shook his head. "I would only do that if you asked me to."

“Well that's not gonna happen. So, let's stop talking about it.” I sassed.

"I think I can sit next to you though." His body appeared next to mine, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I jumped up, turning to him. "Jesus! You have fucking speed abilities?"

He hummed, "I guess so. You know what other powers I have?"

"No, what?" I jeered slightly.

"I can make people do what I say." He grinned wickedly, his fangs shining in the light.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "How do you even know that?"

"I told all the people hiding in this room to leave and go somewhere else. Some of them are outside in the backyard." He answered.

"Well, that was a little rude of you to do." I narrowed my eyes.

He scoffed. "This is my house. I'm allowed to kick people out of it."

"I guess you can. But maybe be a bit more conside-" I started.

He cut me off, his tone changed. "How would you feel if I drank your blood?"

"What?" I turned and looked at him.

His eyes caught mine, and suddenly I was entranced. "How would you feel if I drank your blood? Be honest."

The truth came out of me easily, I couldn't stop it from slipping from my lips. "I wouldn't mind it."

"And why is that?" He continued, standing up.

"Because I've had a crush on you for a while. Plus, vampires are really hot. And you as a vampire is, like, extra hot." I admitted in a daze.

"Wow...." Sam beamed, pulling his gaze away. "Now that's insane."

The moment I could think for myself, I spun around covering my face. "Oh my God, Sam! Why would you make me say that?!"

"I didn't make you say anything! I just made you tell the truth." He explained defensively, almost jokingly.

I whined, "Still! You didn't have to make me do that."

"So... do you want me to bite you?" He asked again.

I turned back to him, pissed. "No, I don't."

"Really?" His eyes somehow caught mine again, and I was lost. "Be honest."

"I would totally be into it," I squeezed my eyes shut as Sam looked away smugly. "Oh my God, you suck."

"Only if you want me to...." He teased.

"That's not..." When I opened my eyes again, his were already boring into mine. I felt lightheaded, and immediately could barely think. "Fun...ny."

"Get closer to me." He ordered.

My body moved without my permission, stepping up to Sam. I could feel his warmth radiate against my skin from how close we were together.

"Do you actually have a crush on me?" He queried.

I nodded my head. "Yeah, I think so."

"You think so?" His hands trailed up and down my arms, soothingly. "Would it be a bit stronger if I bit you?"

"It would." I revealed, unable to lie.

"Okay then. Good to know," he snickered. "Tilt your head and show me your neck."

I followed Sam's command, tilting my head to the side and allowing him more access to my neck. Sam's hold around me tightened, his mouth lowering down until he was almost against my neck.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Y/N. I would never hurt you," his voice was just above a whisper. Sultry and seductive. "Also.... I like you too."

I exhaled, "Wha-?"

Suddenly his fangs sunk deep into my neck. A soft wince escaped my throat, my body tensing up. I gripped onto his arms, my nails almost digging in. It was a bit painful but exhilarating at the same time. I felt high, each breath feeling like a rush of dopamine.

Sam moaned against my neck, removing his mouth for a second. His tongue lapped at my skin, getting all of the extra blood that fell from his mouth. "Fuck, you taste heavenly."

"Sam, I think you shou-" I mumbled, my voice raspy.

He plunged his teeth back in, a harsh gasp falling from my lips. I thought of pushing him away, but instead my hands pulled him in more. My vision began to blur, and my legs could barely stay up on their own. I felt my legs give out, but Sam held me up, his torso crushing into mine.

"Don't worry, Y/N, I got you. I'll never let you go. You're mine, forever." He growled.

"S-Sam." I choked.

My eyes began to flutter, my breathing slowing down to an almost halt. And still, he continued to drink and drink. I felt like I was floating and falling all at the same time. And I didn't even care. It felt so good to be in his arms, to have him consume me.

I could hear a soft whisper in the distance. It sounded familiar but was muffled. It grew louder and louder by second, saying the same thing over and over again. Finally, as it sounded closer, I could make out what it was saying: my name.

And then like a freight train, someone screamed it. "Y/N!"

My eyes popped open, focusing immediately on Sam's face. He was looking down at me concerned, almost in a panic.

"Y/N, oh thank God. I thought we were gonna have to call 911 or something." Sam sat back on his knees, his chest heaving.

I glanced around as my eyes adjusted to the light. I was in Colby's room, but from an angle I wasn't used to. I tried to sit up, suddenly realizing I was on the floor. Sam propped up an arm around me sitting me up and leaning me against the couch.

"Wha... happened?" I uttered, rubbing my neck.

"Well, we were all downstairs partying, and you said you didn't feel good all of sudden. So we both came up here, and I went to use the bathroom. And when I came out, you were passed out on the floor." He responded, worried.

I squinted at him, confused out of my mind. "So... there wasn't a witch that turned everyone into their costumes?"

He blinked. "Should I still call 911? How hard did you hit your head?"

"No. No, I'm okay." Sam helped me up slowly, still propping me against the couch, "I must have had one hell of a dream when I passed out."

"Are you feeling okay? Tell me, seriously." He looked into my eyes.

I glanced away quickly, "Yeah, I'm... fine. I don't even feel drunk. What time is it?"

He checked his watch. "It's 1:05."

"After midnight..." I realized, muttering.

He furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm okay Sam. Really. You know how I can get sleepy after I drink too much. Maybe that's what happened." I tried to reassure.

"Yeah maybe..." He trailed off.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick." I stated, standing up completely.

Sam stepped towards me. "Do you need help?"

"No, I'm okay." I grinned at his nervousness, "Seriously, I'm fine. Don't worry."

I trudged over to the bathroom, leaning against the sink to collect my thoughts.

So.... that was all a dream I had while passed out? Holy shit, I'm never drinking again.

I looked up, scanning my face slowly. I looked the same as I did when I left my house. Except, I had no recollection of how I got here. I mean, in the dream I took an uber... so maybe that's what happened? But God; that dream felt so real. It truly felt like Sam was drinking my blood and draining me. And holy shit, I confessed I had feelings for him!

I sighed deeply, looking over my face once more. My eyes drifted further down and widened at the sight. Two fang marks were right by my jugular, right where Sam had been biting me.

"Sam! Can you come in here for a second?" I yelled, my breathing speeding up.

A moment later the door opened, Sam entering. "What's wrong?"

I spun to him, glaring. "Why do I have two fang marks in my neck... like a vampire bit me?"

"What are you talking about?" He puzzled.

I pointed to my neck. "Right here! What are these?"

"Y/N, there's nothing there." He informed.

"Yes there i-" I turned around, looking in the mirror. He was right. The marks were gone. My skin was clear, as if they never existed in the first place. "Oh."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam wrapped an arm around me sweetly, rubbing my back.

I stuttered, "Y-Yeah. I must have just saw something."

"Must have. Because like I said, there's nothing there." His gaze met mine in the mirror, "Right, Y/N?"

"Right. There's nothing there." I said dreamily.

"Good," he smiled warmly. "Now, let's get back down to the party. If you're feeling up to it, of course."

I nodded, taking Sam's hand and leaving the bedroom, following him back to the party.

#sam golbach #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach fanfiction #sam golbach fic #sam golbach vampire #sam golbach angst #golbrocklovely's 13 nights of halloween #sam golbach oneshot #sam golbach one shot

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oonajaeadira · 2 years ago

Text

Nadie Espera un Milagro (No One Expects a Miracle)

Fandom: Narcos / Javier Peña

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

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

Rating: T

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

“Sullivan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yup.”

“Uh….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

“That sounds like a hillbilly name.”

“Yep.” ________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mother–!”

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

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

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

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

What.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom–”

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

Her delight is evident. “Oh wonderful!”

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

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

Honey…bunny? Honeybun–

Fuck.

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

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

“I’m going to kill you.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll come hungry!” _____

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

“Good to meet you, Javi.”

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

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

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

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

“That’s for sure.”

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

“Thank you, sweetheart,” hums your father.

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

But oh, he came to play.

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

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

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

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

“Mom! Could you not–”

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

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

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

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

“I know! The cabinet behind the door!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His nod hangs silent and sorry between you.

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

The embarrassment burns.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome.”

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

“What’s this?”

“Leftovers. Lunch. Enjoy.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“You’d better.”

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

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

Dammit.

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

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

Of course.

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

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

________

“Soooooo, how’d you two meeeeet?”

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

“At work, Mom. Obviously at work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a favorite place ever since.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart trips over his words. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

You’ve lost count of your yawns.

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

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

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

But the eyes you meet are blue.

“Hi, Jimmy.”

“Well hey there. Mind if I join you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you think it’s hot?”

“Yeah, Jimmy. It’s hot.” _______

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I meant all of it, Sully.”

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

Rose. And cigarettes.

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

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

Oh.

Oh. Not just that part.

All of it.

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

Suddenly you understand what was keeping you awake last night.

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

All of it.

You just thanked him and walked away.

He’s been…this whole time…he’s…

“Darling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. No need. He does.”

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

Good. Maybe you can get some work done.

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

You know where I live.

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

If you can just shut it all out and concentrate.

And try not to expect too much. ________

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom. Dad. How…how did you get in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Shit.

Wait. What?

Fuck.

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

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

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

Not good enough.

“Javi’s not my boyfriend, Mom.”

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

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

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

Why do you feel….caught?

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

But if everything he said was true…

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

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

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

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

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

Your mother huffs. “I do now.”

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

“Are you flying out tomorrow morning or afternoon?”

“Tomorrow morning, sweetheart.”

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

“We have a dinner scheduled with the ambassador.”

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

“Yes, dear.”

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

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

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

Or maybe he didn’t really forget.

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

“Thanks, Dad. It’s good to hear.”

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

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

“I will.”

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

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

“Hey.”

“You heard all of that?”

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

“You mind if I smoke?”

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

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

You open your eyes to ice water.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said a nap, Peña.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

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

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yandere-kokeshi · 1 year ago

Note

OMGG- OKAY SO- can I request Yan! tengen, Sanemi, and Obanai with a femme fatale type reader??? AAAA!! thank you for your time! <33

Warnings: yandere behavior and slight nsfw

A/N: this is such a badass idea!!! I love this sm. I appreciate the request, especially with Obanai. Our beloved snake boi needs more love 😭💕

Uzui Tengen:

You’re right up his alley. Uzui naturally gravitates toward people in power, especially those who are flirty and flamboyant. Something about your edginess and ‘innocent’ smile makes him attracted; pulling him right in like a trance that gets him going.

It’s likely you both met on back (or good) terms, but since that incident, this flashy man has been following you like a lost dog. His arms are always around your shoulder, kissing and smothering you in love, wanting to make sure everyone knows you two are together. If he needs to, he’ll leave marks on you. Although, he wouldn’t mind if you did the same thing.

You have him whipped around your finger. Whatever you say, he’ll go and do. No matter how weird or interesting the ‘mission’ is. But, Uzui does expect a certain reward after he comes back with whatever you sent him.

He doesn’t appreciate how much attention you get, while he does agree when they call you ‘hot’ and ‘attractive’, as they’re not lying. He just doesn’t like the attention you receive, which leads to you being trapped in the house 24/7.

Sanemi Shinazugawa:

Likely, the both of you started off on bad terms – Sanemi always thought you were out to get him. But learning that’s your personality, and you treat everyone like this, it causes a possessive and natural jealousy behavior to rock fourth within his obsessive personality.

He’s naturally protective over you, but now learning your flirty behavior? Sanemi is suffocating. He tries to keep you at the house at all times, guilt-tripping and manipulating you to stay aboard with him; making sure you learn that he’s protecting you from evil.

Your charm is really intoxicating for him. Before he knows it, he’s listening to you like a person under hypnosis – but don’t think you can use it all the time.

The confidence you flame off makes him really horny. Not only is the bedroom really fun, but Sanemi enjoys seeing you put people in place – not afraid to state the facts.

Obanai Iguro:

You’re odd. He’ll say that, but Obanai won’t lie that you’re well attractive. Even Kaburamaru noticed something about you, which resembles the relationship.

Whenever you get men's (or women’s!) attention, he gets extremely jealous. He gets really mean (meaner, if that’s even possible), and throws insults at anyone who approaches you. Even worse, he ignores you out of spite.

Obanai most of the time feels like he’s surrounded by a bunch of morons, so having your smartness and intelligence is refreshing and important to him. Not only does he feel his superiority coming forward, but he gets to hit people in the back of the head and make them realize you belong to him.

Part of why he’s drawn to you is your jarring personality. He appreciates you aren’t afraid of saying whatever is on your mind, without a hint of guilt. It’s a bold and a brave trait that he enjoys. Plus, he gets really snickering when you defend him in public.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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nomsfaultau · 9 months ago

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Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.

Philza flinches. He doesn’t understand why Tommy is suddenly shouting at him for supposedly exploiting his instincts. But he does understand the way Tommy’s wings puff up, bracing to be hit, and it makes Philza freeze as he watches his hatchling throw open the door and storm out of his life.

“Would it make you more comfortable if I remove your feathers?”

Tommy stumbles slightly at the threshold, then scoffs, throwing a glare over his shoulder. “As if you would. It’s too convenient to force my instincts to feel safe around you.” That would explain why Tommy isn’t looking at him. Philza can’t breathe. His chick doesn’t feel safe?

Tommy is confused and wary when Philza removes the hatchling’s feathers and hands them back. It only grows as Philza asks if he wants the ones woven into the nest removed as well. The fact he’s at a loss as to why someone would respect his boundaries hurts almost as much as ripping out where Tommy’s feathers mark him as part of the flock.

But he does it, since that’s what Tommy needs to feel safe, even if Tommy is suspicious of his attempts. Horrifically, he discovers almost every act of affection was interpreted as manipulation, especially the parental ones. Philza winces as Tommy declares he wants to self-preen from now on, decrying the bonding experience as nothing more than manipulation.

But- hadn’t Tommy liked it? Philza isn’t stupid, he’s figured it would hit close to memories of his abuser. That’s why he’d been so careful to frequently ask if he wanted to stop. But Tommy had coo’d back every time, asking him to keep petting his wings long past the point they were tidy. Like he wanted to stay in Philza’s arms forever. That’s why Philza asked to make their flock official, he’d thought… Tommy had seemed so happy…

Philza feels confused, and awful, and worried. “You know you can let me know when I’m making you uncomfortable, right mate? You can always tell me to stop and I will.”

Tommy doesn’t believe him then.

But slowly he starts to, tentatively testing the waters over the weeks and waiting with bated breath to be punished for it. As if it’s such an overreach to demand the basic bodily autonomy of people asking permission before showing physical affection. As time passes, he rejects it more and more, growing comfortable asserting his own wants. Philza aches with the desire to tuck his chick under wing, but swallows the increasing distance. It’s good that Tommy feels safe refusing what Philza wants. He’s healing. Philza’s empty arms must be a good thing.

And naturally, he becomes a little turd with it once he feels safe enough, but Philza can’t exactly resend the promise and so ends up being forced to just stand there while a zombie attacks him since “swinging that sword around makes me uncomfortable Phil, I thought you said this was a safe place.” But Tommy’s delighted laughter makes up for it, even if Philza forces him to replace the golden apples he wasted to survive. He doesn’t mind the little pranks.

But something in Philza panics when Tommy finally abandons the nest to sleep in a bed. He can’t sleep at night, tormented by the keen awareness his nest is empty. Instincts howl to find his chick, because no matter how he fights it that doesn’t change the imprinting. Verging on falling prey to parental instincts and dragging the boy to the safety of the nest, Philza sneaks out the front door and slumps against it. He can’t break that trust, he just can’t. But neither can he sleep with an empty nest.

His movement sends a few dogs barking, and it isn’t long before Techno looms over him in the cloak of midnight. Philza holds himself a little tighter. “My nest is empty,” he says hoarsely. Techno lurches to action, till assured Tommy is perfectly safe. “He doesn’t want to be my hatchling. It hurt him too deeply last time.” And yet his instincts care not, crying in panic. Philza buries his face in the knees drawn to his chest.

“Would you be able to sleep if something else filled the nest? Like, could the instincts tell the difference?” Philza has no idea, but as exhausted as he is he’s willing to try. Or, till Techno volunteers himself, because Philza really doesn’t want to make his instincts Techno’s problem. Techno shrugs. “Probably a lot less awkward for me than it is Tommy, given how long we’ve known each other. Might as well try.” Not that Techno cares to be viewed as a piglet, but his feelings were bruised when the broody Philza categorized him as a threat. “We’re a flock, aren’t we?”

“Always.” So Techno burrows into the nest, rooting it up till Philza’s feathers ruffle disapprovingly. They’re different, and Techno likes it that way, but the dozens of little instances where their instincts misalign get under his fur sometimes, like a wedge between them. But they both refuse to let it stop them. The hesitance is drowned in a yawn, and Philza nestles over him. It’s a reassuring pressure, reminding Techno of the sounder he long aged out of. Soft feathers wrap around him, and after a few sleepy coos, Philza drifts off, finally assured that his nest is barren no more. Techno smiles, glad he could help his friend. He wraps an arm around Philza’s feathered back, and likewise accepts the embrace of slumber.

Next>

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ansxit · 27 days ago

Text

Like the Ocean

[Katsuki Bakugo x Reader]

a/n} sorry for the break!! I got super busy so I had to stop writing for a bit, I hope you guys enjoy!! Regular updates will be coming back

(Also!! Please reblog + like!! It would really mean a lot to me !! <33)

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2

- [ Y/n L/n - Quirk: Water, She can manipulate any amount of water through the different states of matter and bend it to her will. She appears to have no limit to how much she can move ]

(Y/n) always wanted to become a hero. She had been training for it ever since she was young. Her quirk sounds simple but can be very dangerous, and when in use it takes constant focus to command it. However, ever since a dangerous incident in her childhood, her quirk hasn't been the same. Despite it all, she remains hopeful that she can grow to be a powerful Pro-Hero. Nothing will stand in her way.

Except, something does.

Someone by the name of Katsuki Bakugo.

TW] None

A chill swept through your classmates at Mr. Aizawa's words, contrasting the beating sun.

'Expelled?!' Your mind was racing now. And it seemed like your classmates shared your concerns. As you looked at their faces, you found terror that mirrored your own. Only a few remained calm, and you tried your best to plaster their same energy on your own face. You looked over to Tsu, but her face was unreadable with her current expression. Mina, however, looked like her soul was leaving her body.

"If you start thinking I'm unfair then you should quit before we begin." Mr. Aizawa stated dryly. "The world is full of unfairness. Villains who will do anything to stop you. If you want to go pro, you'll have to fight this unfair world by pushing yourself and going behind your limits."

Despite his uncaring tone, you could sense something deeper in your teacher's meaning. He knew the hardships as a Pro, and he was trying to protect the future heroes from being unprepared. That's when it clicked for you.

'No one's going home,' You realized. 'He's just trying to make us try our best to prove ourselves. God, it seems so obvious now. That's why some of the others were so calm, I should've realized sooner.'

"Bakugo will start us off." Mr. Aizawa stated, gesturing to the starting circle. "Use your quirk to throw the ball, just as long as you stay in the circle."

The tall, angry, blond boy from earlier stepped up. He seemed relaxed, but You could sense the tension radiating off of him. Was he secretly nervous like you were? Just trying to play it cool to the rest of the class? Maybe the violent side from earlier was just the stress of the first day. You subconsciously clenched and unclenched your fist.

'Maybe we're all more alike here than I thought.'

"DIE!" He shouted, propelling his arm forward with a fiery blast. The heat brought a sting to your eyes as you watched the ball explode into the air, before landing close to the tree line in the distance.

'Nevermind, I guess he's just always like that.'

Mr. Aizawa held up a new device, a small screen that blinked 705.2 m. Holding it up to the class, he flashed a grim smile.

"This is what I'm talking about. Now, we'll start with the other fitness tests. You can use your quirks however you see fit to win. Remember, you're fighting to not get expelled."

With those totally inspiring words of encouragement, the trials began. The first test was a quick 50 meter dash. As your classmates began stretching out and a few getting ready to race, you pondered how you could apply your quirk.

'Just my luck.' You groaned as you rolled your shoulders. 'My quirk is only useful if there's water around, I should've submitted a support-item form...' Mina, who had just finished up her race, skipped over to you with a wide grin.

"Did you see my awesome quirk, (Y/n)?" She smiled and danced around. "It's super cute and flashy, huh? Are you super impressed or what?" Her enthusiasm once again started to rub off on you and you smiled back at her.

"You have a very impressive quirk, Mina!" You agreed. "So you used it to skate on the dirt?"

As Mina described the aspects of her quirk, You felt a pull in your veins. it was the same twitch you felt on the ocean nights, feeling the call of the water in your body. Like muscle memory, you twitched your fingers and moved towards the source subconsciously pulling moisture. Beads of water dripped off your head and collected into a thin trail along your arm. Mina, who appeared oblivious, kept gushing about her quirk.

'Thank god it's so hot outside.' You thought with a smile. 'I can turn my sweat into ice to skate like Mina did! No matter how...gross that is.' With a shudder you brushed off your disgust and started to collect more sweat into your palms. There wasn't much, but it was just enough to skate you to a better time than a normal run.

"Todoroki and (L/n) are next." Mr. Aizawa called, not looking up from his clipboard.

"Good luck (Y/n)!" Mina patted you on the back, walking over to Tsu who was stretching with a brunette girl.

You approached the line and knelt down, keeping the water between your fingers and channeling the cold that you kept in your chest. The robot counted down from five, and you tensed your arms in preparation.

4...3...2...1!

As soon as the alarm went off you slammed the moisture into the dirt, freezing it over to create a sheet of ice to easily slide to the finish line.

However, Your idea was not as original as you originally expected.

The boy next to you, Todoroki, had bent down and, with a single step, propelled himself to the end of the line. Ending up less than a second faster than you.

"4.38 seconds!" The robot beeped, then quickly clocked your time as you passed it. "4.94 seconds!"

Half red, half white hair turned to face you, and You wilted under his intense gaze. His eyes were so cold, and the hatred that burned in them made your throat dry.

"You have an ice quirk?" He asked quietly, you almost didn't hear it over your thundering pulse.

"Uh, something like that.." You had seen him during the recommendation exams, he was one of the two students who had beaten you in the practical exam. Honestly, You were shocked he hadn't noticed you earlier, but he clearly wasn't concerned with the students around him. 'Until now. Until I showed him up..' You realized worriedly. 'My first day and I've got a rival, how thrilling.' You straightened your shoulders and met his gaze. "So, we have similar quirks! That's pretty cool!"

Your lame attempt at diffusing the tension failed somehow worse than you expected it to. Todoroki stared blankly at you, as if you hadn't said anything at all. But when Todoroki walked away, you swore you heard him mumble, "Something like that."

"(Y/n)!!!" Mina squealed, hopping up and down on Tsu's arm. "That was amazing!! Your quirk is so pretty, I didn't know you could make ice!"

"Oh, it's more complicated than that.." You half-heartedly laughed while reaching in the direction of the ice slabs. If Todoroki wasn't going to take his ice back then why not utilize it? Better than using your sweat all the time.

Feeling out towards the ice, your arm erupted into goosebumps as you broke the slabs down. Crushing your palms together, you breathed out through your mouth sharply, splitting the ice apart and forcing it to return as water.

Your classmates all stared in shock at you as you pushed the water to float in gentle waves around your arms. You couldn't remember the last time you got to show off your quirk like this to people, so you were excited to be receiving so much attention from it.

"So she can move water, big deal." A gruff voice spoke out above the hushed whispers of your classmates. "My quirk is way more powerful than any of yours, and I'll prove it anywhere and any time."

You looked over to see the angry boy from earlier, Bakugo shouldering to the front of the group. While he directed his comment towards everyone, he had his eyes pinned on you.

"Hey there's no reason to get all high and mighty." Mina spoke up, stepping between you and Bakugo. "The whole point of this test is to just do our best, we don't need to be instigating a fight."

"Yeah!" A boy with spiky red hair piped up behind Bakugo. "It's not manly to threaten a lady, yaknow. Besides, we were all having fun!"

"This isn't about having fun." Mr. Aizawa spoke, looking out to the students. "While this violent talk is unnecessary,, you all cannot forget why you're here. You've wasted enough time on this round as is, it's time to move on. No more losing focus."

It was now the last fitness test of the day. While you didn't get first in all of the tests, you still scored fairly high in most of them. Ever since the first round, Bakugo had left you alone, and Mina and Tsu stuck close by to you. Your other classmates gave you the occasional question about your quirk but other than that the tests were going peaceful.

Since Bakugo had already completed the test, he stood off to the side of the class, still as tense as earlier and observing his classmates as everyone gave their attempts at the test. You tried not to focus on his piercing gaze at the back of your neck, but you couldn't help but shiver whenever he stared at you.

You yourself had scored 237.4 m, not by any means beating his score but considering your quirk can't power your upper body like how the others can, you thought it was still pretty good.

One by one, your classmates participated in the test. Watching their quirks was enthralling to say the least. Your classmates were all so creative, and a strange feeling of hope warmed your heart while watching them.

'Everyone is so incredible.' A grin split across your face as you watched Uraraka score an infinity with her gravity-defying quirk. 'I'm going to have to work even harder to get ahead of everyone.'

Lastly was the green haired boy who had initially screamed at the door earlier. As he approached the circle, you could see him trembling while staring at the ball. The class tensed and just as he was about to throw it, Mr. Aizawa's scarf shot into the air and the ball landed just a few measly feet away. The boy stared at Mr. Aizawa in shock, who stepped towards him in an intimidating manner.

"Were you planning on breaking your bones again? What use is a quirk if it cripples you after one time?" Your teacher demanded. "You are clearly not ready for this course, you have no control over yourself. Relying on someone to come and save you makes you a liability– You would be a danger to other heroes who are out on the field."

Everyone stood in shock, and You nervously glanced between your classmate and Mr. Aizawa, subconsciously clenching your fists.

"You remind me of another reckless hero, one who saved many people and became our symbol of peace. But you are not him, and with that quirk... you have no hope of being a hero."

'Damn, hit him where it hurts.' You thought.

As the boy pondered your teacher's words, he suddenly reached his arm back and flung the ball forward, launching it far into the tree line. As your class collectively gasped, You looked back to the boy, who was now clutching his bloodied finger.

Mr. Aizawa straightened, and while you couldn't quite hear what the boy had said, the pained grin on his face told you all you needed to know about him.

'He wants to be a hero, like everyone else here and he's willing to do whatever it takes to achieve that dream.'

The blinker lit up; 705.3 m, and the boy let out a shaky sigh.

"You dammed bastard..." The furious voice startled you as Bakugo pushed to the front of the class. "YOU'VE HAD A QUIRK THIS ENTIRE TIME?!"

He lunged forward, looking like he was intending to kill the kid. Just as his hand grabbed towards his face, Mr. Aizawa threw out his scarf, entangling Bakugo and ceasing his rampage.

"I'd advise you not to struggle." Aizawa grumbled. "Extensive use of my quirk gives me dry eye. So stand down."

'What is the deal with these two?' You pondered, staring at Bakugo's shaking frame on the ground. 'What did he mean by that, was the other guy quirkless?'

"That's enough for today." Mr. Aizawa continued, glancing at the rest of the class. "I've ranked your skills from best to worst, although you all should have an idea of where you stand."

You scanned through the board, spotting your name at 7th place.

'I could've done better.' You sighed. 'Mom's probably not going to like that ranking. But there's always another day, at least I'm not in last.' As you scanned down the ranks you saw that the green haired boy landed in 21st. 'Poor Izuku Midoriya, I really hope he doesn't actually get expelled.'

"By the way, that expulsion story was a lie." Mr. Aizawa piped up, capturing the attention of the tearful Midoriya. "I just said that so you would all give it your best effort to gauge your real skills."

"IT WAS A LIE?!?" Mina shouted, pulling at her hair and jumping up and down. You looked over to her,

"Oh I thought you knew, you seemed so unbothered during the tests."

"YOU KNEW (Y/N)???? AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?!" A girl with her hair in a ponytail looked over to you both, and you recognized her as another student from the recommendation exams.

"I'm sorry, I thought it was obvious." She said, placing a hand on her chest. "I should have said something to you all."

"Yeah you should have." A couple students grumbled in unison.

After the physical exams had ended, Mr. Aizawa ended class and everyone was told to pack up and go home.

Once back in the classroom, you packed your bag back together, and walked over to Mina and Tsu who were waiting at the door.

"Ready to go, (Y/n)?" Tsu asked, holding the straps of her backpack.

"Yep!" You replied.

The three of you walked out the front gate together, talking about the physical exams and the extents of your quirks.

"I recognize your last time now!" Mina snapped her fingers. "You're the daughter of the (L/n) family; Pro-heroes Whirlpool and Piranha!" You sheepishly pulled away from Mina, covering your face in your hands.

"Yeah but it's not a big deal, they've been retired for a while so they're not super famous anymore." Tsu gasped and stepped in front of you.

"Not a big deal? They were my idols when I was younger! I've always wanted to match their underwater combat skills!"

"Seriously (Y/n), your parents were amazing! It must be so awesome to have such awesome heroes as your parents." Mina gushed. "Do you guys have, like, a room dedicated to memorabilia? A secret study full of tokens from their battles? Ooh, or like a room full of newspaper articles from their golden years?!"

"Nah nothing crazy like that." You sighed and continued walking. "They've really just put that hero stuff behind them, well except for now I guess. They really want me to put the family name back out there, especially my mom."

"That's so inspiring." Mina sighed dreamily, clasping her hands together. "I can't believe I'm friends with the daughter of two pro-heroes!!"

"Youre really lucky to have them as your parents, they're really amazing heroes!" Tsu smiled. "I can see you're going to be just as great as them, (Y/n)!"

'Friends on the first day,' You thought with a grin. 'Who would've guessed.'

"I'm glad I met you both too!"

The sun had since faded into the sea, and you quietly unlocked the door to your home. The lights were off, creating an eerie vibe as you stepped through the house.

You walked quietly up the stairs, gripping onto the railing as you listened carefully for footsteps. When you reached the top, you stared out of the glass that led to the open water.

"Hello, (Y/n)." A voice called to your left, and you slowly turned to face the blank gaze of your mother.

"Hi, Mama," You whispered back, quietly walking over to her armchair.

"Did you have a good day at school?" Her thin arms lifted out to you and you gently took them into your hands.

"I made some friends, but a lot of my classmates are intense. There's this one really loud guy who seems to have an explosion quirk, he was really aggressive to everyone."

"Well, he must be there for a reason. It's nice that you made friends." She lifted her hand to your cheek and smiled. You let her run her fingers along your face and you closed your eyes with a sigh. Saltwater and the smell of a home cooked meal wafted through your nose as you pressed against your mother.

"Did you train at the pool?"

"Yes, Mama," You replied. "The swim team says hello." The lie fell easily past your lips and your mother believed you with a smile.

"That's good my little naiad," Your mother embraced you, crushing you close to her. "I am glad you're staying away from the ocean, you remember how dangerous it can be."

"Yes, Mama." You repeated, staring into the cool darkness of your home. Pictures of child-you and newspaper articles from your parents' many heroic feats stared back at you from behind their glass frames. "I remember."

#fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #bnha #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha x reader #x you

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