#int. javier

[marlborcs]

a closed starter for my heart, @canncnball, for nora & javier.

they just got home. she'd cleaned the blood from her hands and changed out of her bloodied clothes. javier disposed of them and nora just stood by their bedroom window, biting down on her finger for a moment. that was the first ( and probably the last, if her boyfriend and brother had anything to do with it ) time hurting someone, physically. well, on purpose. she was a nurse. she took an oath. that oath did not pertain to this, though. her friend had been abused for years and now they had gotten back at the guy for it because he had come back and was waiting to see her, he'd said it himself. "...he deserved all of that and more," she finally speaks when her boyfriend enters the room.

[malicieuses]

@loveshard

insp by

"Tell me how many times you've thought about it." They're drunk yet again, but instead of going home with someone else, once again, no one else at the party was deemed worthy or interesting enough so he'd found his way home with him. However, this time, he'd stopped at the door, damn near pressing him against it, faces entirely too close together as he asked the question, full of suggestion and an edge of amusement.

[blcssom]

somehow, for the second night in a row he's found himself in her bed which is.... nothing short of a miracle. but this night might be his last if the sudden chill that threatens to overtake him sets in. "ah, i was wondering why i felt so cold. now i see: you've stolen my of my half of the blanket."

closed for @tcrnished

[britthellstrom]

     It said something for the fact that she recognized his footsteps closing in rather than a stranger's, a patron that had either been watching the dynamic between them or had gotten pissed off thinking their needs had been ignored, and Britt didn't shy away or get slippery like oil on a hot surface. The blonde continued to work, it was mostly for something to do while she listened, eventually though—she turned to face Javier and took in everything that he hurled at her. 

Words—explanations, feelings, reasoning—landed against the petite woman, and unlike any other time she genuinely listened rather than laying in wait for her chance to reply back. When there was a break between his thoughts, a long spot of silence, Britt filled it with something she'd been curious about. There was no malice or accusation in her tone, just true wonder. ❝ ⸻ Do you know why people go silent? ❞ Hopefully Javier knew she wasn't meaning that childish silent treatment bullshit. This was for real, Britt was speaking of a trauma response. 

❝ I didn't always have the words to say something, or even know how to, or where to begin. I'm sorry, Javier. ❞ It was one thing to spend years studying psychology, and it was a whole other thing to be able to apply it personally. Britt kept her gaze level with him, steady, resolute. ❝ I don't presume to know anything. What you were thinking, what you were feeling—you didn't share that with me. Only your frustration that I couldn't be exactly what you wanted. ❞ Before there could be an interjection and rebuttal she shook her head, an indication that the words weren't cast as blame.

❝ I was confusing, ❞ her hip leaned against the table and her fingers pressed down into the wood, ❝ I moved in close because that was where I wanted to be and then pulled away because I was afraid. To make it worse, when I did pull back, when I did push you away—all I wanted was for you to keep coming forward. To fight for me. ❞ A frown pushed at one side of her mouth and her eyes shifted down, to his hand gripping the chair. She was going to say: you were upset about being pushed away, nothing else.

❝ I know now that our connection was too young, too immature, and not quite there emotionally. ❞ It sucked, and it hurt—these realizations. Britt released a sigh and wet her lips just before she swallowed down everything she hated herself for. This was just more to pile on. She ached for someone to let her growth with them. The capacity to love wasn't built in isolation. ❝ I just hope you know I never intentionally set out to be a scar, something that'll mess you up as you pursue real opportunities in your life, ❞ she'd added, resigned to endings in whichever way they came. 

As she took a bigger, steadying breath, Britt opened up cautiously. ❝ I experienced something horrific when I was eleven. ❞ So much pain and fear rose to the surface that her eyes welled with tears, only because the emotion was that intense, but Britt tried to fight it off and remain as stoic as possible. The soft smile was forced, the same image of someone doing their best to be strong while their heart was breaking.

❝ I lost my dad and my brother in one night, ❞ she nearly choked out then cleared her throat softly and continued to force emotion back. ❝ Then my mother forced me to help her cover it up, and then keep that secret ever since. So, yeah, I'm trying to heal while something's eating me alive. I've been studying psychology for twelve years and I still don't have an answer on how to get better, how to let it go. It's not that I wanted to push you away or wanted you to leave. Maybe I've felt so fucking horrible and alone for so damn long that I don't know how to accept when someone actually seems to care. ❞ There was a shrug, as though this were some casual, what can you do?, confession.

When her fingers rose to her cheek Britt could feel them shaking. Despite all the years and her mother opening up to select others about what had happened, the blonde had kept the secret so long she didn't know how to free it. Some part of her even believed she were committing an ultimate betrayal by even saying as much as she had.

Everyone around her, mother and brother, those they had told—they all seemed to take it in and move on like it was nothing. Then there she stood—still haunted by the brutal violence, still remembering the cold stiffness of a corpse, still remembering the weight of the secret. Not only that, but the responsibility of it, and the way it had been a tool of manipulation for such a huge chunk of her life. 

❝ I think, subconsciously, I knew that if you knew the truth about me, ❞ her head shook, not finishing that thought aloud. It was easy enough to assume the ending. ❝ If little things and spats about unimportant bullshit would send you running, if you were easy to step away from that, then how the hell would you handle something so much worse? ❞ This wasn't a quest for answers, it was more of Britt opening up the clinical knowledge of what each of those actions had meant. ❝ I wasn't consciously testing you. There was just too much of me that knew I didn't deserve you. ❞

While she didn't believe their downfall was entirely on her, there was just no war within her to fight Javier on it. She'd already lost, there was no such thing as peeling back time and it wouldn't make her feel any better shouting that it wasn't just her. For so long she'd bore the weight and responsibility that this was easier to just stack on top. Britt didn't want to make him feel worse than Javier already had while being with her. 

❝ I'm sorry for how I treated you. I honestly don't know if it would've changed anything, me telling you I'm working on healing, but you're right that I should've given you that. ❞

Javi didn’t say anything at first. The clink of the towel hitting the sink still echoed in the silence she left behind. He stood with his back to her, jaw clenched, one hand braced against the counter like he could press the anger down through the wood and out of his body. He heard every word. Felt them land like fists he wouldn’t admit hurt. But then she moved away—again—and something about that pulled at the last bit of restraint he had.

So he followed. Not storming. Just… moving. Controlled. Precise. Like he was trying not to scare her, but couldn’t sit in that space between them any longer. He stopped a few feet from the table where she wiped at half-dried rings of beer like they might answer for the past. “You think I didn’t try?” His voice was low, not sharp but frayed around the edges. “You think walking away was easy?”

Javi ran a hand over his jaw, the other resting on the back of a chair like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “I gave you everything I could, Britt. My time. My patience. My effort. I was patient every time you pulled away, and I waited—even when I didn’t know what I was waiting for.” He exhales hard through his nose, gaze catching hers and holding it this time—no bar between them now, no glass to polish, no shield to hide behind. “But I’m human. And yeah, I got angry. It wrecked me to keep being treated like a burden for showing up. Like you were bracing for me to hurt you when all I wanted to do was stick around, feel it out.”

The words settle between them like dust. “You say you were healing? Maybe you were. But I didn’t know that. You didn’t let me know that. You just kept pushing me to the edge of the room, and then got quiet like I was supposed to read your goddamn mind.” He laughs then—but it’s short, brittle. “I didn’t dump you because I stopped caring. I walked away because I couldn’t keep fighting someone who didn’t believe I was on their side.” A pause. His voice softens just a bit—gravel shifting into something almost tender. “You say you didn’t want to lose me?” He tilts his head, eyes scanning hers. “Then why the hell did you act like I was already gone?”

His voice drops into something quiet. Not accusing—just tired. “I didn’t want perfect, Britt. I just wanted real. Even if it was messy. Especially if it was messy. But I can’t keep proving myself to a ghost of who you’re scared I’ll become.”

He leans a little more against the chair now, like the weight of it all is starting to catch up. “So if you’re really trying… if you’re actually healing… then just tell me that.”

Another beat. One last truth, maybe the hardest one. “Because I never stopped giving a damn. I just got tired of being the only one getting dragged for it.”

[tempting-andromeda]

Fuck it writing for rdr2 now

Nsfw headcanons

Warning: smut, knife play, somnophilia, power dynamic, spanking, hair pulling, bruises.

Characters

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy,Micah Bell, and Eagle Flies.

Arthur Morgan

He likes for sex to be intimate but he gets a rise out of things escalating. Like you two are in bed about to sleep but like 20 minutes later your legs are over his shoulders and he’s shushing you to stay quite.

He doesn’t force moments between you two he likes when it’s natural.

He laughs softly at you if you get too eager for him. He teases you and degrades you for it softly like “Really? This desperate for me? Guess I gotta give you a good time don’t I, Girl/boy.”

He likes to hear you talk during it even if it's just jumbled moans. He'll ask you questions like “That feel good?” and he likes a response but he doesn't force it (unless he's being rough then he'll stop moving and make you reply)

Sex is personal for him so he likes to make you feel good and sometimes he completely forgets about himself.

John Marston

He likes being in control but simultaneously he likes when you’re in control as well. He’s a complicated man.

He’s so fucking eager. Sometimes he forgets about foreplay but once he remembers he focuses on making you finish until you’re barely able to take him.

He’s real into dirty talk. He simply cannot shut up. He’s between your legs describing how you taste.

He has a high sex drive yet he cums quickly. He goes multiple rounds to make up for it though.

He’s so sensitive. He tries to pretend he’s not but after a while he starts begging you to bite his neck or use your mouth on him.

Dutch Van Der Linde

He likes a power dynamic. He likes being dominant and he doesn’t like that changing. If you try to top or be dominant he sees it as a challenge.

He’s into humiliating you but he doesn’t like bringing it out of the bedroom. He likes seeing you on your knees as he sits in a chair and he likes making you beg to suck him off.

He likes brats. He’s into the challenge and he likes making them submissive. It’s a huge thing for him if you act all bratty.

He likes to lightly smack you but doesn’t actually apply pressure unless he’s spanking you. Like if you back talk or something he grabs your face and uses a stern voice and after you say “yes sir” he lightly taps your face.

Really likes to stand back and admire you after he’s done with you. Looking at your panting frame and fucked out face. It makes him so proud. If he could he’d have a picture of it.

Charles Smith

He’s super into passionate slow sex. Pressing his forehead against your chest as he praises you but sometimes he can’t seem to hold himself back and he fucks like his life depends on it.

Like he’ll have your legs spread in a nearly humiliating way but he’s complimenting you the whole time, praising your very existence.

He likes when you wrap your legs around his waist. It makes him feel like you’re desperate for him as well and it drives him crazy.

He’s a munch. No doubt about it. Sometimes it’s the only thing he wants to do. He’ll lay in between your thighs like he’s starved.

Having sex with Charles is like experiencing a Hozier song first hand. At the end of every night with him you have absolutely no doubt he worships you.

Javier Escuella

He’s into knife play but he’s not entirely into drawing blood. He’s into cutting your clothes off of you. Like completely ignoring the buttons on your shirt and instead just running his blade along the buttons, snapping them off.

He’s real into hair pulling both ways. He likes fucking you from behind to pull your head back so he can kiss you and he likes when you pull his hair in missionary.

Possessive. No doubt about it. I feel it in my bones. He always asks you who you belong to before you cum and he gets a huge rise out of it. He makes your scream out his name at least once every time y’all have set.

He’s super into quickies. He likes to pull you away for a bit and absolutely destroy you and then go back to what you were doing and watch you struggle to pretend like nothing happened. It’s a huge turn on for himz

He likes to cum on you instead of in you. He’ll finish in your chest, back, stomach, face. He’s so into it. He likes knowing you’re a mess for him and you’re allowing him to do this to you.

Sean MacGuire

He’s huge on praise. He needs you to tell him he’s big and that no one makes you feel this way. It drives him crazy.

He’s super messy when he fucks. There’s something about it that makes him feel prideful that you’re a mess and he’s a mess.

He likes to humiliate you but in a different way from Dutch. Dutch does it for the power dynamic and he does it just because he likes the idea that he’s the only one allowed to do this to you.

He’s a head pusher but he always makes it up to you afterwards by making you pull his hair when he goes down on you.

He likes having sex in semi public places. It fills him with such adrenaline he’s trying to go again afterward.

Lenny Summers

Hes into handjobs. More than anything. If you put your hands in his pants he’s nearly crumbling that instant.

He likes when you go down on him randomly. Like he’s reading a book and suddenly he’s getting head or waking up to head? It’s so attractive to him.

He knows what you like and what you don’t like and his fingers are magical. Sometimes he tries to multitask and do something else while he fingers you but he ends up giving in and giving you all of his attention.

He’s real nervous at the idea of people catching you two so he just whispers a lot of praise in your ear. He feels horrible degrading you but he tries.

He moans at everything. Like if he goes down on you, he’s moaning the whole time. If he’s touching you he’s still moaning. It’s just attractive to know he’s doing something that arousing to you.

Kieran Duffy

He likes when you tell him what to do. He’s real clumsy most of the time and if you lead his hands and body and tell him what to do he’s determined not to fail.

His dirty talk is mostly him asking for reassurance like “am I doin’ good?” Or it’s just him worshiping you.

He whimpers and whines so easily it’s like he’s getting fucked. (Or he is) he gets real embarrassed afterwards but he doesn’t try to stop

He begs to touch you even if you’re not holding him back or telling him he can’t. His hands could even be on you and he’s begging to touch you.

He moans so loud when he cums. He always tries to cover his mouth to muffle it or he buried his face into you to prevent anyone from hearing.

Micah Bell

He’s rough. Real rough. A night with him probably ends with a few bruises and a sore body and he’s real smug about it too.

He likes watching you pleasure yourself. Sometimes he’ll touch himself as you do so and after you both finish he won’t touch you.

He loves edging you. Sometimes he pulls away right before your climax and wait for you to beg. Once he got up and nearly left just to see your reaction.

He likes shoving your face into the pillow as he fucks you from behind. It makes him feel dominant and like he’s in control.

His praise is really rare so he saves it for a special moment. He’ll have you hanging off the side of the bed as he bellows your back out and he makes sure you hear him when he speaks, grabbing you by the back of the neck just to whisper something like “look so pretty from back here, slut.”

Eagle Flies

Experimentalist to the core. He wants to try everything at least once. He thinks it’s a huge trust thing to experiment with intimacy.

He likes showing off his strength and stamina so he likes to lift you up to fuck you. He can last so many rounds too so by the end both of you are panting and tired.

He says “I love you” during sex. He feels so intimate to say it and he likes to make eye contact as he does it. He knows it’s cheesy but he likes to say “I love you” while he finishes

He likes to talk about your sexual fantasies and tries to recreate them as best as he can. He feels like he has to prove that he’s better than some fantasy and he never fails.

[whxtedreams]

When You're Sick

Summary: Drabbles about how they would look after you when you're sick/unwell.

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: Fluff, comfort, they're just soft babies, I am sick while writing these, Javier being a soft jerk - he means well, Din doing his best, Frankie just being a soft bf, Joel is nothing but caring, sick!reader

Characters: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, Javier Peña

Joel Miller

Joel: How’s my baby girl doing? You: Honestly Joel, I have a killer headache and just want to go home. 

Joel frowns at the small screen in his hand before he looks down at the shirt he is ironing. He had planned on surprising you and taking you out to dinner tonight since Sarah was at a friend's house for the night but he quickly scraps that idea.

Joel: Come over after work  You: I just said I wasn’t feeling well… Joel: No funny business. Promise 

Joel spends the afternoon bringing every pillow and blanket he owns into the living room. He drags chairs from the dining room and drapes blankets over them, making a nice dark blanket fort in his living room. He digs around in the Christmas storage boxes in the garage until he finds battery operated warm fairy lights that Sarah begged him for one year. With a few grunts and mumbled swears, he manages to hang them on the chairs within the blanket fort, hoping you liked it and it wasn’t too bright. 

He checks his watch that Sarah fixed for his birthday last year and swears when he notices the time. 4:24pm, you’d be over any minute now. He scrambles around the living room making the last final touches. He rushes up to Sarah’s room and looks through her cupboard for her small candle collection. As he goes to grab a vanilla scented candle, he freezes as he remembers you mentioning that the heavy scents make your headaches worse. 

Okay – so no candles then. 

He’s taking the stairs two at a time when he hears your knock on his door, still not wanting to let yourself in even though he’s told you on multiple occasions that you’re more than welcome in his house. 

Joel opens the door after turning the last light off by the front door and his smile drops as he sees the pain behind your eyes. He takes hold of your hand and you sigh as you enter the dark house. 

He gently guides you into the living room and watches you as you take in the space he made for you, a small smile falling to his lips at your soft expression. Your arms are around him in an instant as his hand wraps around your shoulders, his other hand softly rubbing your head, hoping to ease a little of your pain. 

He lifts your head to look up at him when he feels the subtle shake in your chest as he hears you try to muffle a cry. “What’s wrong?” He quietly asks. 

“Nothing, my head just hurts and this is beautiful.” You reply as you turn your head to look over at the pillow fort, the soft warm glow illuminating the room from inside the blankets. 

“Come.” Joel offers as he detaches your hands from his waist and continues to guide you into the living room. He lifts a corner of a blanket and ushers you inside. He crouches at the entrance as you crawl in, taking in the small bowls of snacks and fruit carefully placed on the edge of the blankets and pillows. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go get you some pain killers, and fresh popcorn, yeah?” He asks and you eagerly nod in agreement. 

On his return, he shoves the bowl inside before crawling in, thankful for the softness of the blankets on his old knees. You take an overly big handful of popcorn and shove it to your mouth, small crumbs falling into your lap. He hands you a bottle of water and the pills and you struggle to swallow the popcorn before you take the pain killers. 

“How’s your head?” Joel asks as he pushes your hair behind your ear. 

“Think it might end up being a migraine.” You sigh as you pull a blanket over your lap, the crumbs falling into the pillow beneath you. The father in him dusts it to the side without thought, years of cleaning up after Sarah subconsciously implanted into his brain. “Might take tomorrow off work.” You mumble as you lay down, nestling into the pillows. 

Joel huffs as he picks up the popcorn bowl and your hand shoots out from the blanket, tugging it back beside you. “Darlin, if it’s that bad, then let's forget about the popcorn, the snacks and the blanket fort and get you to bed.” 

You frown as you pull the blanket up to your chin and hum in protest. “No. This is nice, I don’t want to move.” You grumble. 

“You sure? I know it's comfortable but if it’s turning into a migraine, you should go lay down.” Joel offers as he leans on his elbow, his other hand slowly tracing your body over the blanket. 

You sigh at the touch and close your eyes, smiling. “Really, it’s nice and dark in here. You did a good job, it’s sweet. I just want to stay here with you.” You open your eyes and look up at him and his heart clenches in his chest.  “But I'll let you take me to bed if it gets worse, deal?” 

Joel’s fingers grip onto the blanket before he soothes the blanket on you. “Yeah, okay. But if I even see the slightest hint of it getting worse, I'm taking you straight to bed, no arguments.” He says in a false firm declaration. Knowing full well that you won't do anything you don't want to.

“Deal.” You say on an exhale as you hug the pillow under your head. 

Joel leans over and kisses your temple, soothing a hand over your hair and you sigh at the touch. 

Din Djarin

Din knows something is wrong when the cockpit is silent for more than a few hours. You had muttered that you were going to go lay down a mere six hours ago, and he didn’t think anything of it, thinking you just needed rest. 

When it hits hour eight, he descends the ladder in search of you. He finds you curled in on yourself in his bed. His bed. He stands there blinking at you for a moment before looking around in search of anything that could explain what was going on. Nothing.  

He says your name but you don't move an inch. He sighs before he wraps a gloved hand around your ankle, instantly making you recoil from his touch as your leg curls into your chest. 

Okay, so not asleep then. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Din asks as kindly as he can but he knows it came off harsh, he normally does. 

“Nothing. Leave me alone.” Your voice is distant and weak and he’s taken back by how you sound, not used to anything but your overly positive attitude. 

Din might get frustrated at how lively and energetic you are, but he definitely wouldn't trade it for anything. Your personality is what makes you who you are and he loves – no, tolerates it no matter how hard it is to keep up at times

Your sniffle brings him back to the moment and he tilts his head at the sound. He would have blamed it on his imagination but he hears it again. “You’re crying?” He asks.

“Din, I said leave me alone.” You snap and he raises his eyebrows under his helmet. 

He turns to leave, listening to your demand but he hears you sniffle again and he stops as he sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He turns the lights off, sending the room into darkness. He takes armour off piece by piece, carefully placing them on the floor before he walks back to you in his flight suit. He takes a strip of cloth and leans over you, pressing the fabric in your hand. “Put this on.” He orders. 

It’s now you finally look over your shoulder and frown at his lack of usual Beskar. “Wha-” 

“I said put it on, cover your eyes.” He points at the cloth and you slowly nod. He watches as you tie it around your head and waits until you lay back down until he takes his helmet off. 

He crawls into the bunk behind you and tugs your back to his chest, a startled gasp coming from your mouth as he moves you. 

“What are-” 

“Have I done something to upset you?” He asks, worry laced in his unmodulated voice. His bare hand holds onto your stomach as he holds you close to him, your own hand covering his. 

You shake your head as you sniffle again. 

“Then why are you crying cyar'ika?” He pushes as his thumb lazily draws circles on your clothed stomach. 

You shrug in his arms and he slowly nods, his lips landing small kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t like it when you push me away.” He sighs into your neck. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He turns his hand from your stomach and holds your hand, squeezing it. “Talk to me cyar'ika. Please.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know why I feel this way.” You almost choke on your words as you sniffle again and he squeezes your hand again. 

“That’s okay. We can lay here for as long as you need mesh’la.”   

And you do just that, until you turn in his arms and wrap your arms around him. Your head resting on his chest and you sigh contently.

“Feeling better?” He asks as he kisses the top of your head. 

“Sort of.” 

“Anything I can do to fix that?”

“Just hold me.” 

Frankie Morales

To say that he’s in a good mood would be an understatement. Why is Frankie in a good mood? Well, that’s easy, he knows you’re at home waiting for him when he gets home from work. As much as he hated that you were gone before he woke in the mornings, coming home to you made your difference in working hours that much better. 

You’ve been living together for an easy month now and that blissful honeymoon stage never seems to end, and frankly, he doesn’t think it will. 

His mood does however falter when he opens the front door and he doesn’t hear you. Normally there would be the smell of dinner or the sound of music but there’s nothing. Which he thinks is completely fine, just out of the ordinary. He calls your name, thinking maybe you’re in the backyard by the pool but he hears your grumble from the living room.

Okay… 

He cautiously enters the living room, his head peeking around the corner before the rest of his body. 

His happy mood completely vanishes at the sight of you gripping your stomach and taking deep breaths as you lay on the lounge. He rushes to the couch and kneels in front of you. He places his hand on your stomach as his other hand wipes the hair fallen on your face. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asks, a frown settling on his face. 

“‘M fine.” you grumble and he shakes his head. He’s about to protest but you continue, “Just a bad period, ‘m fine.” You say before your breath falters, your hand gripping onto your own shirt. 

He sighs in relief, his forehead resting on yours as he begins to rub your lower stomach. He pushes himself from you and sits on his heels as he looks down at you. “Why didn’t you text me? I could have brought some stuff home?” He asks as he moves his hand to hold yours. 

“It’s okay.” You sigh as you sit up and his hands rests on your thighs as he looks up at you, his hands slowly running up and down your thighs. 

“Do you have everything you need? I can go to the supermarket, it’s no problem baby.”

You nod as you reach out and run a hand through his hair and he closes his eyes and sighs at the touch before snapping his eyes open and swatting your hand away with a playful frown. “Stop it – it’s supposed to be me looking after you.” He laughs as you roll your eyes. 

“Frankie–”

“Nope, you sit right there, Doctor Frankie will look after you.” He grins as he leans in to kiss your forehead before standing from the couch. 

“Babe–” 

“You’re stuck with me now, your fault for moving in.” He teases as he reaches to take your hands in his. “We can order in if you like? Chinese?” He offers and you nod with a smile. “Perfect! I’ll go get you a heat pack and some chocolate from my stash.”

Your head snaps to him as he moves to go into the kitchen. “You have a hidden chocolate stash?” Your words rushed and your jaw hangs open in shock. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snickers as he enters the kitchen. He reaches for the back of the cupboard and takes out a box of cereal you hate and empty the chocolate onto the kitchen counter. 

“IS THERE CHOCOLATE IN THIS HOUSE YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME ABOUT?” you yell from the living room and it takes everything he has not to burst out laughing at your reaction. The exact reason he began hiding the chocolate when you moved in. 

He walks back in with the warm heat pack and block of chocolate and you snatch the bar from his hand. “I will tear this house apart Frankie.” You mutter as you open it and shove a whole row into your mouth. 

He falls into the couch beside you and smiles down at you as you moan at the taste, your eyes closing in bliss. He reaches around your shoulder and tugs you into his side and you willingly snuggle into him. He rests the heat pack on your stomach and you sigh at the feeling.

He finds it oddly amusing that your entire mood changes at the consumption of chocolate, that all the pain you were feeling vanishes. He knows that’s impossible, but it’s cute. He does however rub your stomach at every strained breath, trying to take your focus away from the cramps you felt. 

“Thank you.” You smile as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Anything for you baby.”

“Will you tell me where you hide the chocolate?”

“Oh, not a chance.”   

Javier Peña

Javier lifts his hand to knock on your apartment door for the fifth time. His foot taps on the carpet below him and he sighs in frustration as he hears no sign of movement inside. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he digs in his pocket for the space key you gave him; for emergencies only. He really didn’t want to walk into your apartment uninvited but he considers this an emergency.  

It’s been just shy of a week since you last showed up at work, just shy of a week since he last ran into you in the hallways of the apartment complex you shared.

He slowly pushes open the door, half expecting you to start yelling at him – but you don’t. 

He spots the pile of dirty dishes in the sink first and he instantly knows something is wrong since you’re always nagging him for leaving his empty coffee mugs on your desk at work, hating the mess he made just to annoy you. 

He spots the couch next, blankets and pillows left unattended with used tissues covering the floor. Gross. 

He moves to your bedroom door, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed as he looks at you in your bed. Your eyes are closed and your chest struggles on each inhale, the sound of your blocked nose filling the room. He almost laughs at that, hearing you snore – but then remembers that you’re actually sick. Great. 

Not wanting to disturb your sleep, he moves to leave. 

“Please tell me you’re here to put me out of my misery.” You groan as you sit up, wiping the snot dripping down from your nose. 

He scrunches his nose at the sight, ignoring the way he wants to rush to get you a tissue. 

“Your place is a mess.” He says instead as he looks down at the sea of tissues both in your bed and the floor and instantly feels guilty as you start coughing, your hand clutching at your chest. 

He frowns then, wanting to rush to your aid but he doesn’t. His feet feel as if they’re concreted to the ground, not allowing him to set foot in your bedroom. 

“You’re welcome to clean up if it bothers you, because I ain't doing it.” You mutter as you collapse back into your pillows. “While you’re at it, can you get me a heat pack?” 

Yeah, he can do that. It’s the least he can do, right? 

He pushes off from your doorframe and walks the short distance to your med cabinet above your stove. He takes the purple sack from the cabinet and tosses it into the microwave as he leans against the counter. He taps his foot as he looks down at the countless plates and half empty take away containers. 

He takes the pack when the microwave beeps and strides back to your room, freezing in the doorway before sighing and walking over to your side. He outstretches his hand and offers you the pack. He pulls it back however as he sees sweat trickle down your forehead as you shiver. He places the back of his hand to your forehead and swears. 

“You’re burning up.” He frowns as you grab for the heat pack. “This is the last thing you need.” 

“But I’m cold Javi,” You whine and he shakes his head. 

“When was the last time you took any Tylenol? Or had a damn shower?” He asks and you shrug. 

He sighs again and walks back into the kitchen, tossing the useless heat pack on the counter along with all your other mess and opens the cabinet again, taking out the container you use to store all your medications. He digs through it and takes out the Tylenol packet and groans when it’s empty. He looks up at the ceiling and closes his eyes. 

Of course it’s empty, why wouldn't it be?

It’s then and there he decides he’s dragging you out of this apartment and into his own. Because there’s no way in hell he’s leaving you here when you’re doing what seems to be a very poor job at looking after yourself. 

He walks back into your room without hesitation this time and grabs onto your hands. You groan as he lifts you to sit up. “What are you doing?” You ask with a frown as he continues to lift you from the bed. 

“Comin’ ‘cross the hall with me.”

“What?”

“You’re going to take a shower, take the Tylenol that I actually have and sleep in a bed that’s not full of snotty tissues.” He softly orders as he drags you across your bedroom. He stops in the middle of your room as he looks down at your snot covered pyjamas. He moves over to your dresser and takes out the first set he sees and continues to march you back to his place. 

You sigh in defeat and follow him, because let’s be honest – you’re in no shape to argue with him right now. 

He hands you the set of clean pyjamas and pushes you into his bathroom. He waits until he hears the shower start before he moves into his bedroom, quickly cleaning up the dirty clothes from his floor and shoving them into the hamper he bought, telling himself that he would actually use it. He hasn’t.  

He pours a cold glass of water and sets two pills on the counter. He stares at the counter and scratches the back of his head, maybe some tea?  

He opens his pantry and kneels as he searches for the box of tea he knows you left here months ago when he had nothing you wanted to drink that last time you were there. He pushes cans around until he finds the box tucked away. 

By the time you exit his bathroom, you look like a different person. Not quite healthy, but no longer looking like you’re on your deathbed. He ushers you into his bedroom and you protest when he motions for you to get into the bed. 

“Get your fuckin’ ass into this bed.” He orders without a hint of anger and you roll your eyes as you do what he says. 

He comes back in with the water, pills and tea. He places the hot tea on his bedside table and hands you the pills and water. You smile as you thank him and he looks around his room, not knowing how to take your thanks. 

“Yeah, well can’t really have you dying across the hall. They’d think it was me.” He jokes instead and you laugh before it sets off another cough and he swears at himself for making you cough.

“Right – well, get some sleep.” He mutters to the floor before he leaves, leaving the door open a crack in case you need something. 

He waits until he hears you snore before he walks over to your apartment and begins cleaning. 

Notes

I am so sick pls tag me in sick!reader fics

My desk is covered in tissues. My bed is covered in tissues. The tissues that make it to my bin, my puppy tips over and starts eating.

[nthspecialll]

Going to ramble a little bit here and I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Bill is one of my favourite characters in rdr2, which is a statement people often validly criticise because of Bill’s racism, aggression, general bigotry, and of course the monster he grows into in rdr1. But to me Bill is such a heartbreaking character because I truly believe he could have been so easily swayed down a better path if someone had have just tried to help him.

Bill was a very insecure and repressed man and throughout the entirety of the second game he is constantly seeking appraisal from the gang, you see it in the random camp interaction where he makes a show of bringing fish to Pearson, desperate for any kind of acknowledgment for his hard work and he only gets a small thank you from Pearson and Arthur in return. You see it in the sentiment that Bill repeats a few times when talking about his jealousy of Arthur, how he feels like he’s not allowed to make the same mistakes Arthur would be given a slap on the wrist for. You see it when he asks Kieran to have drink with him and then becomes upset and defensive when his genuine vulnerable attempt at connection is rejected.

A lot of people can’t see past Bill’s racism, which is fair, but I also see it as another really tragic and realistic part of his character. In his racist interactions with Charles, Lenny and Javier I think he’s acting out for attention because he doesn’t know any other way to get it and I don’t believe he actually holds real hatred for any of them because of their race, I think Bill deeply loves and respects them as his brothers despite his mistreatment of them. I see this as different to someone like Micah who is just genuinely hateful in his black little heart. Bill was taken into the army as a young man and spoon fed racist rhetoric by the people he respected and looked up to, his superiors, his brothers in arms. They’d share boogeyman stories about how bloodthirsty the natives were and fill his impressionable mind hatred, and then he had all those racist horror stories reaffirmed when they’d send him out to watch the men he considered brothers be slaughtered in battle by said boogeymen. I think it’s clear Bill has PTSD from his army days which warps the way he sees the world around him, I think Dutch (despite the can of worms that is his own racism) says it best when he says “I don’t doubt you saw things Bill but your tiny little mind was too small to comprehend what you saw. What you saw was people who lost everything to savagery.” I believe that Dutch especially, considering the idol he is to Bill, had the opportunity to educate him and help him be a kinder man and yet he chose not to despite his Evelyn Miller fuelled white-saviour-complex. Bill’s trauma obviously doesn’t excuse any of his actions, but I think it is evidence that he had the capacity to learn and be helped if someone had just believed in his intelligence enough to try.

Also lastly a big part of Bill’s insecurity can be attributed to his repressed sexuality, people talk about it a lot so I won’t say much but the part of it that hurts me the most is that Bill lost EVERYTHING for being gay. When he was discharged from the army he lost his job, his home, his food, his friends and his dignity. He was left homeless on the streets, turning to alcohol and becoming the man his father was, and robbing people just to get by. Dutch saved him and became his messiah, he gave him purpose again and then intentionally left him uneducated and pining for his approval to use him as a tool the same way the army did. Taking advantage of all the good parts of Bill Williamson and leaving them to rot and fester under the filth.

What are your thoughts on how Bill was treated and what could have changed for him had he been treated differently? RIP Bill Williamson I could have taken better care of you <3

Well you touched on a lot of subjects that I have already touched on in my other Bill posts, so I guess I won't need to go into background details LMFAO.

Bill was treated like a fool by everyone for every small mistake he has every made no matter how small it is, because most are small, and he is also blamed for things that aren't really his fault, like Sean's death. He is pretty much that one person you use as the butt of a joke, and a lot of characters don't really give him a fair chance.

John actually seems to be his best friend though, they are both kind of labeled as lazy, they are both drunks and they both know it is a problem. The issue is that John is given a lot more freedoms than Bill is and that leads to him becoming very jealous very easily, John to some extent seems to notice it but it doesn't seem to bother him.

Bill really seems to like Lenny, taking him out to drink and out to rob and calling him his son, however Lenny doesn't really seem to be that enthusiastic. It seems that Lenny goes with Bill when Bill asks, but he doesn't seem to be the one to take initiative to do something with him.

Now Hosea, he is absolutely not giving Bill a fair chance, he is going after him constantly and literally setting Bill up for failure. Hosea really seems to be using his senority against Bill and being a dick to him. Micah does the same, except he seems to hide it a little better because he feels they are on the same side.

Dutch is treating Bill like he is a child and a fool, even thoguh everything Bill does it to please Dutch.

As for what could have changed, I think a lot, like a lot. Steve said that if just someone had told Bill "hey we appriciate you" he would have sided with Arthur, and that is a massive thing because it means betraying Dutch whom he is otherwise so loyal to. So I think you can change pretty much anything about Bill if you just treat him nicely, it might take some time and a few reminders, but yeah his racism, his sour comments, his drinking could likely be changed if just effort was put into it, if someone encouraged him and stood by him.

[lanachap]

"It's a typical male thing," Lana commented, her hand naturally went to rest on Sonny's side when the younger woman leaned in. "Hide their emotions and then blame you for not knowing." Even more dramatically now, Lana leaned into Sonny's face and very animatedly rolled her eyes. The things Javier had said to her, how deeply he had cut her down, still rang in her ears.

Not once did her body miss a beat of the music, she hit every single one, and felt zero shame enjoying herself on the dance floor with the most unlikely companion.

It seemed she was doomed to experience men that couldn't ask her to stay, or tell her they wanted her or needed her. There were a few fleeting years where Lana had gotten the taste of someone that didn't play games and was unabashed in being open about how they felt about her. It'd been scary for Lana at first, but it had felt so wonderful. Being without that now after it having touched her heart was almost painful to walk through this life.

"Apparently me always showing up on his door, always being the one reaching out to him," she went on as they moved fluidly together, like they'd been girlfriends that had decades of history going out dancing together. "That meant I was using him. Apparently I treated him as just a body, a means to release, a temporary comfort... because that was all he told me he'd wanted." Frustrated and feeling those emotions of hurt and anger slip into the movements of her body she tried to shake it out of her head.

It may have been a him problem but it had really hurt Lana. He'd actually meant a great deal to her and had been the one place she'd gone to when life had pained her.

When the song changed and Sonny showed no signs of vacating the dance floor, she continued to move with the other woman. In fact she tried to forget about the elephant in the room hanging behind the bar. Instead she enjoyed the way the movement and exertion made her body feel — loose and free. Sonny's comments roused a smirk along with an arched brow. "What dangerous decisions are going on behind those mysterious eyes of yours?" If the younger woman was looking for trouble then she didn't doubt she could find it in here.

For a moment she worried that meant she'd expected Shane to walk in. That maybe she'd heard he was dropping in tonight. But then Lana figured Sonny wouldn't be dancing with her like this if that were true. The idea alone was enough for a fleeting glance at the doors, though.

With a laugh she easily twirled at Sonny's lead and initiative. She spun and slipped around behind Sonny for a moment, her hands resting on the younger woman's hips while they matched rhythms. Then she made her way back around in front so they were face to face again. "Definitely reckless..." Lana could only imagine the talk that would spread, but for right then she couldn't care less. "The trouble is yet to be seen. That'll be in the aftermath."

In a heart piercing moment Lana was brought down for speaking too soon. Javier appeared, something dark and hungry in his expression as he interrupted them and focused solely on Sonny. She wet her lips and brushed her hair back as she took a step back. Something about the scene sobered her into reality. That little hint of fear that she'd somewhat confessed earlier to Sonny was being realized, and Javier had literally slipped between them to do it. With his back to her.

The movement of her body tapered until she went still in the middle of a dancing crowd. Did he hate her this much? Was this what she deserved in his mind?

There was no mistaking the hurt in her expression. Not this woman. Any woman but this one. Even if she and Sonny were getting along, there was no erasing that she was Shane's ex and baby mama. Each flirtatious comment and inch forward he took in to Sonny's space was building up something catastrophic, something there'd be no way back from.

This was lower than low, no matter how hurt Javier felt.

Another step back and a dancer collided with her. They'd cursed at Lana at first, annoyed, but when they'd realized who she was they reacted out of concern. "Hey, you alright, Lana, honey?" She was staring at Sonny and Javier like it was something so twisted and ugly. "Yeah," she replied to the man now taking her arm, "I just..." Her heart was pounding and there was a ringing in her ears. "I need to get the fuck out of here."

The hold on her arm pulled her a little closer to the man, Lana was in a state of betrayal and shock, she was unaware if it were a protective or possessive move. Like someone stunned and out of sorts she just kind of moved where she was taken. She actually wished now, more than anything, that Shane would walk in and see what she was seeing. Or that maybe he would care enough to drag her away from this horrific scene in front of her.

Sonny lets herself be tugged, the weight of the moment shedding off her shoulders like a too-heavy coat she hadn't realized she'd been wearing. The music pulses under her feet, in her chest, up through her fingertips—and something about Lana’s energy, all defiant and radiant and alive, makes it impossible not to move with her.

Although, Sonny hadn’t missed the flash of pain in Lana’s eyes only a few minutes ago. Having spent so much time perfecting her own vanishing act not to notice when someone else pulls the same trick, Sonny took note. The words "I was" echo louder than the music for a breath or two, and Sonny almost—almost—reaches out for her again, if only to say something softer, more careful. But then the song changes, and Lana lets go of the past with a wink and a sway of her hips, and Sonny decides to just follow her lead.

There’d be plenty time to unpack the drama later. "What’s reckless about dancing?" Sonny repeats with a low, teasing laugh, stepping into the rhythm with Lana like it was a lover she hadn’t seen in a while. “Plenty, if you do it right.”

The beat drops harder then, and Sonny lets her shoulders roll back, the edges of her smirk returning as she lets her hips match the rhythm, loose and unapologetic. Her dark curls bounce freely now, catching the warm, flickering bar lights as they move.

When she finally turns to face Lana more fully, one brow lifts with mock challenge. “You say fuck him like you mean it,” she observes over the music, “but that little eye roll afterward? That's a bit more loaded, babe.” Her voice is low and wry, but not unkind. “Still…” she leans in closer, breath warm against Lana’s ear as the tempo picks up, “...if he’s stupid enough to let you slip through his fingers, that sounds more like a him problem than a you-one.”

Sonny pulls back just enough to meet Lana’s gaze again—eyes sharp and playful. “I, on the other hand,” she adds, stepping into a slow, teasing spin, “plan on making very smart decisions tonight. Dangerous, maybe. But smart.” She moves with more intention now—loose-limbed but purposeful—like each movement is its own unspoken message. She isn’t just dancing anymore. She's speaking in rhythm. And every word is directed at Lana.

As the chorus hits, Sonny leans forward, matching Lana’s pace, the space between them charging with laughter and something a little darker that shimmers just beneath it. “So?” she asks, breathless and smiling. “You still think this isn’t reckless?” There's a grin, before she loops a playful finger in the hem of Lana’s sleeve and they twirl away again. “Because I think this might be exactly the kind of trouble I was hoping for when I walked in here tonight.”

Just then, Sonny slips back into the rhythm, her laughter blending with the music, while Lana matches her energy beat for beat—both of them fluid, unbothered, and electric. For a moment, it almost feels like nothing outside of this small, pulsing world between them, exists. No ghosts from the past. No sharp words. Just movement and heat and the kind of trouble that feels almost holy.

But the air eventually shifts. Why? Because it has to. And, frankly Sonny feels it before she sees it—an interruption threaded with intention.

Javier steps onto the edge of the dance floor, still in his rolled-up sleeves and that damn nametag half-hanging off his chest like he’s above wearing it properly. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just stands there for a beat too long, eyes on Sonny, expression unreadable but definitely not neutral. The kind of look that knows how to get attention without even asking for it.

“Didn’t peg you for a dancer,” he says finally, voice smooth, low, and meant to carry. His gaze lingers on Sonny like she's the main act, his tone friendly—but just sharp enough to cut. Sonny’s movements slow, not stopping, but definitely clocking the change. Her brow arches as she regards him, lips curling into something unreadable. “Didn’t peg you for the interrupting type,” she fires back, cool but not cold. Not yet.

Javier grins, stepping just a little closer to the both of them, hands slipping casually into his pockets like he’s just gotten off the clock and has decided to have some fun. “Can’t help myself when something this... compelling is happening right in front of me.” He glances—just once—at Lana. Not long, but long enough to be seen. A flicker of something. A warning? Or maybe a challenge.

Sonny doesn’t miss it. And, she highly doubts Lana does either.

She’s still dancing though regardless, but her rhythm shifts—tightens. Like she’s suddenly too aware of her limbs, her breath. Like she knows exactly what this is: a game. Sonny, to her credit, plays it smooth. She doesn’t step back, but she doesn’t lean in either. Just takes one lazy turn in place and lets her eyes sweep over Javier with a look that lands somewhere between amused and unimpressed.

“You here to dance,” she asks, tilting her head, “or just to play bartender on your night off with a side of ego? Because we're not interested.” Javier laughs, genuine but laced with something Lana knows all too well—the need to provoke. His eyes flick between them again, and this time, he leans in a little closer to Sonny, if only to get a reaction out of Lana.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Just Another Broken Heart

Requested Here!

Pairing: Javier Esposito x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After Javi broke your heart, you became an undercover officer. Years later, you run into him after a bad day at work.

Warnings: discussion of human trafficking and murder (case), reader is assaulted by another officer, depiction of injuries, angst to fluff/comfort

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

A/N: Every gif of Javi is him and Ryan. If that doesn't speak to how amazing their bromance is, I don't know what does.

Three Years Ago

Javi doesn’t greet you as he enters your apartment. As you close the door behind him, you begin racking your brain for what may be bothering him. He’s usually flirty, touchy, and loving even after a terrible day, he tends to walk straight into your arms. Yet, here you are, watching him pace by your couch without a glance in your direction.

“Javi,” you begin.

“I can’t do this,” he interrupts. Before you can ask what this is, he explains, “We’re done.”

“Javi,” you repeat, your eyes widening as you step toward him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this relationship, about us!” he exclaims, pointing between the two of you. “Look, I tried, you tried, but we were never going to work together. You have to see that, too.”

“No, I don’t, Javier. Did I do something?”

“It’s not you, trust me, it’s not you.”

“Then why are you breaking up with me?” Your voice is strained as you try to keep yourself from breaking down in front of him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice.

Javi looks at you before he decides to tell you the truth. His voice is low as he admits, “Because I don’t think I can love you.”

You blink as tears build in your eyes, a pressure you can’t mistake. If Javi can’t love you, doesn’t want to try, whatever drove him to this point, then he doesn’t deserve to see you cry over him.

“Get out,” you demand.

He raises a hand toward you, but you point toward the door and repeat yourself. As he whispers an apology and closes the door, you lower to the edge of yourself before the first sob shakes your body, and you clasp your hands over your mouth so your pain is silenced.

The pain of heartbreak is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, and you know that you can’t walk into the precinct on Monday morning knowing that you may be assigned to work with Javi. Luckily, there’s one thing you never got the chance to tell Javi.

“I want the job,” you whisper through your cries as you text the undercover detective who offered you a position. “I need to be someone else.”

Present Day

“Ryan, Esposito!” Beckett yells, replacing the receiver of her desk phone to its cradle. “We’ve got a DB. Reported anonymously fifteen minutes ago.”

“Finally!” Castle exclaims. “Some action.”

“Dead bodies are the opposite of action,” Javi quips. “They’re dead.”

Castle turns toward Javi and drops his voice to ask, “Or are they?”

“No more zombie or vampire theories!” Beckett interjects. “You’ve still got a week.”

“I told you not to bet against her in darts,” Ryan reminds Castle.

“What’ve we got, Beckett?” Javi asks as they approach the scene.

“Apparently this building is a hub for homeless, prostitution, illegal drugs… you name it. DB is on the second floor but with that many people in there, it’s guaranteed that our crime scene is contaminated.”

Javi nods as they join the growing crowd of law enforcement officers at the rear entrance of the abandoned building. He tosses Castle’s vest to him before securing his own over his shirt. On Beckett’s count, he and the twenty officers assisting them enter the building and begin yelling commands. Javi quickly realizes that Beckett was correct; there are more civilians inside than police officers.

“Espo!” Ryan yells. “We got something!”

Javi leaves the patrol officers to gather the squatters as witnesses as he follows Ryan’s voice to the bloody scene.

“Shut your mouth,” Daniel says, pointing directly at you. “I don’t want to hear another sound from you unless I tell you to make it, understood?”

You stare into his eyes, hating everything about the human trafficker standing before you. Regardless of your personal feelings, you have a job to do, and you nod once. You’ve been undercover for nearly two months, getting deeper and deeper into the ring. Daniel is just a runner, he brings people in from other places, taking them across borders and through different states before dumping them in disgusting places like this, where they wait to be bought. It’s sickening, but every moment you are here is another moment of hope for the people sitting around you.

“Ow,” a woman beside you hisses quietly.

You glance toward her and notice her wrists are red and raw. Her left hand has blood running down it, and you turn toward her. Extending your hand, you smile and hope that she’ll trust you enough to let you help. She shakes her head and looks down at her lap.

“I’ve got bandages,” you whisper. “Please let me help. It could get infected.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she twists and lays her hands in yours. You flip her wrists carefully and can see that she’s got a deep rope burn.

“Did he do this?” you ask, jutting your chin toward Daniel.

“Told me I couldn’t move,” she replies. She has an accent, but her English isn’t as broken as some of the other women you’ve met here.

“Is this all that’s hurt?”

She nods, and you pull a small pouch from your pocket. After you place antibiotic ointment on the open scrape, you secure a bandage around the worst of it. Dan looks around the crowd of seated, scared women, and you shift your hips to sit on the first aid pouch.

“NYPD!” someone yells downstairs.

Dan shoves his co-conspirators toward an internal door while the women closest to you cower. You, however, stare at the doorway and wonder why the building is being raided. It’s too early to be for Dan, but your captain would have pulled you before anything else happened. Before you can think of a third option, the door opens and two officers step inside with their guns raised.

“Shut up!” one of them yells when several of the women shriek.

“Wait,” you call. “I’m NYPD, undercover!”

“Sure,” the other cop scoffs. “Everybody up and against the back wall.”

You stand but don’t join the women as they move quickly to follow his commands.

“You’re scaring them,” you say. “They’re victims here, you need to find the three men who just-“

“You need to get against the wall,” the first cop interrupts.

“I’m NYPD, badge number-“

You are cut off when he grabs your wrist and shoves you against the door. The wood is rough against your face, and when you push back against him, he shoves his knee into your right hamstring and increases his pressure, holding your arm painfully behind your back.

“I’m complying, okay?” you try, relaxing your muscles. “Please just listen to me so you can get them help.”

“Why would I listen to you?” he asks with a chuckle. His knee digs further into your leg as he leans forward. “You’re just another hooker.”

His partner laughs, and when you say your captain’s name, he releases your arm. You release a breath, but he brings his hand to the back of your head and knocks your face against the door again.

“Stop resisting,” he demands, putting on a show for the body cam.

You, however, fall silent and do just that. He won’t listen, you’re already hurt, and the only thing that matters now is the women beside you. You became an undercover officer because your real life didn’t matter, and it still doesn’t.

After an uncomfortable ride in a police car, you are shoved into an interrogation room, secured to the table with handcuffs that are far too tight and left. You lay the less painful side of your face on the edge of the table and allow yourself to lose track of time. Despite that allowance, your body clock knows that it has been hours since you moved, and as the pain in your head and leg begins spreading, you consider yelling just for someone to remember you’re here.

“I thought we interviewed everyone,” Javi says as he returns to the bullpen.

“We did,” Ryan replies.

“Interview 6 is occupied. One of the patrol unis left an arrest in there as a witness.”

Beckett nods as she looks at a file. “She’s been in there for nearly three hours. What happened?”

Javi shrugs but turns and collects a few bottles of water and a granola bar from his desk. Three hours is too long to wait in an interview room, so he has an apology to make. He knocks on the door and then opens it before he drops everything he carried in.

You look up when someone knocks but stop suddenly when you grow dizzy. The door opens, and your eyes widen. He must have hit your head harder than you thought if you’re hallucinating your ex-boyfriend. You drop your head again before groaning in pain.

“Hey, hey,” he repeats, dropping what he’s carrying and rushing to your side.

You open your eyes again and see him kneeling beside you. His hands are gentle on your face as he tilts your head toward him, his eyes searching your body.

“No,” you murmur, trying to pull yourself back from him.

The handcuffs stop you and you grunt when the metal digs into your skin. Javi pulls a key from his belt and releases your hands. You try to pull your arms around you, but Javi catches your elbows to look at your wrists.

“Let me help,” he implores, his thumbs rubbing kind circles on the back of your arm.

You shake your head, but when you lean back against the chair, you realize that you are in more pain than you thought. Reluctantly, you allow Javi to take your arms again.

“Please don’t tell me you’re charging me with murder,” you mumble as he drops his hands toward your legs.

“No, you’re free to go,” he replies. “Right after I take you to get checked out.”

Javi stands and extends his hands to help you up. When you place weight on your right leg, your hamstring flares in burning pain. You shift onto your left leg, and Javi watches your every move and breath closely.

“Stay with me,” Javi says before he lifts you into his arms and steps over the threshold.

“Like before?” you ask.

Javi replies, but you don’t hear him as he runs through the station to find a medic.

“Come on,” you urge your numbed leg. “Or not,” you sigh in defeat as you lean against the couch.

You were cleared to go home, but the treatment you received at the hospital left you tired and numb. Better than tired and in excruciating pain, you think. Luckily, Beckett offered to give you a ride so you didn’t have to spend another moment with Javi. Someone knocks on the door before you can think too long about Javi and his caring actions earlier today.

“Who is it?” you yell.

“Can you get up?” You roll your eyes at Javi’s question, which he takes as a no because he asks, “Spare key out here?”

“It’s New York,” you reply. “Of course not.”

“Then how am I supposed to get in?”

“You’re not.”

Javi doesn’t reply, and you watch the door, wondering if he left.

“Javi?” you call after a moment.

“Yeah?” he replies.

“Do you- do you still have the key I gave you before?”

“I do.”

“It’s the same lock.”

You hear his key slide into the lock, and your mind decides to focus on why he kept the key all this time rather than his being here. He locks the door behind him and sets several bags on your kitchen counter.

“What are you doing here?” you ask quietly.

“I wanted to let you know that the killer was one of the women with you. She thought he was one of the traffickers. But, mostly, I came to check on you,” he answers, walking toward you. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, numb, angry…” you trail off before ending with a shrug.

“Angry?” Javi asks with a knowing smile. “At me?”

“Surprisingly, no. The cop who shoved me into a door and nearly severed my hamstring on his power trip.”

“He got fired,” Javi says. “Not that it changes anything.”

You furrow your brows at that news. You didn’t press charges or complain yet and didn’t even have time to let your captain know that you had unceremoniously been pulled from your UC operation.

“I reported him,” Javi explains. “Loudly.”

“Why?”

“He hurt you.”

You nod and murmur, “So did you.”

Javi exhales as he sits beside you. “Tell me to leave again and I will,” he offers. “But if you want to talk, I’m here for that too.”

“I always thought that if I saw you again, I’d just keep walking, not say anything.”

Javi doesn’t interrupt, but his eyes remain steady on your face as you look down at the pillow in your lap.

“When you broke up with me… that was the worst pain I’ve ever been in. I didn’t have a reason to keep fighting for anything, so I become a UC. I figured if I was so easily replaceable as a person, a girlfriend, I might as well get a job where I could be easily replaced too. It’s been brutal, more injuries than I can count. Today wasn’t the first time I’ve been hurt doing this.”

“You’re not replaceable,” Javi says after you finish. You shake your head, and he lays his hand on your forearm above the bandages. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position, but I never should have let you feel like you could be replaced. What I said that night…”

“That you didn’t love me?”

“That’s not what I said. I said I didn’t think I could love you. I did love you, so much that it scared me. But it wasn’t the love I thought you needed or deserved. Mi amor, I thought you needed to replace me. You needed someone better.”

“I wanted you,” you argue, turning toward Javi.

He sees the tears in your eyes glint in the light and slowly raises his hands to cup your cheeks. You shake your head, but he moves closer as his thumbs brush under your lashes.

“Let me be what you need, even if it’s just for tonight,” he whispers.

You lick your lips, then lean against him. His arm wraps gently around you, and you can feel the mental and physical strain, the pain, melt away at his touch.

“Javi,” you whisper after several minutes. He hums, and you raise your head to ask, “Just for tonight?”

“Not my decision, corazón.”

“Will you come back? For good?”

Javi fails to hide his growing smile as he replies, “For you? Por supuesto.”

You tilt your chin up and smile before you request, “Kiss me?”

“My two favorite words,” Javi cheers.

“But don’t touch the right side of my face.”

“Whatever you want, señorita.”

[pupzophrenic]

🍁 Longterm Roleplay Searching ad (again, updated!)

Hello, I’m Jesse (he/they), I am 18 and I’m lookin’ for some specific ships to roleplay as of late! So heres me shooting my shot the only place I know where to.

Been roleplaying since maybe 11 or 12 years old from what I can remember, I also write fanfics, so my words do in fact….. word🙃

Before this post starts:

• I’d like to clarify I am a queer (trans) male, these pairings will be men for the most part, as I simply find males and mxm more relatable and enjoyable for me to participate in than other types of roleplay!

• Please be 18+ if you intend to dm me about this post, I like a bit of spice in my roleplays, and also just so its bot awkward af with romance stuff.

• Please be Advanced Literate to Novella if you plan to int with this post (at least 5 sentences every paragraph :,) )

• I am never quite in a rush to respond. Sometimes I might reply ASAP and other times I might take a while, please understand communication is key and responses from both ends dont need to be on any kind of schedule.

• Not very interested in OC pairings rn sorry!

Parings!:

blue = fav/rlly want

RDR: John/Arthur (also willing to do this as a non-pairing), John/Javier, John/Red Harlow, Arthur/Charles, (Id do Javier/Charles but Ive never played either </3… still on the table tho!)

Hannibal: Will/Hannibal

TWD: Rick/Daryl

Supernatural: Dean/Castiel

Madness Combat: Deimos/Sanford

Marvel: Venom/Eddie, Moonknight/Punisher, Ironfist/Starlord, Winter Solider/Captain America, Wintersolider/Hawkeye

Final Fantasy: Prompto/Noctis

Monkie Kid: Red Son/MK

“Muses” or who I would rather play:

orange = fav

John Marston

Daryl Dixon

Will Graham

Dean Winchester

Deimos

Eddie

Moonknight (Marc, Steven, Jake)

Starlord

Winter Solider

Prompto

Red Son

Further Info:

I live in CST

I only rp on Discord!!! (but DM me here first)

i will be completely honest if i dont wanna rp so we dont waste another’s time :]

[lostmorals]

javier wasn't the kind of person to break character but he couldn't seem to hold back the smile that appears in response to her ridiculous enlightenment. "private investigators are a real thing, i can assure you." he drags his fingers through his thick curls, keeping a neat slick back. he could appreciate her honesty. it makes her look less suspicious hearing that she does in fact know the man in the picture. however, there were still things that weren't adding up for him. it was the way she was trying to make his frequent trips to the coffee shop seem insignificant while trying to rush him out at the same time. it was that eagerness to get away. she shouldn't be so nervous. "i believe you. so you probably wouldn't mind me taking a look around with your permission then? you know, just for peace of mind. i'd be happy to pay for a cup of coffee."

God, was she suddenly inside a noir film? By the way he spoke, it definitely made her feel like that. "I didn't even know private investigators were a thing that existed outside the T.V.." And even if she was being honest, she still looked at the picture. Well, Mariella did know them. Fuck. On the plus side, that meant that he probably wasn't there because of the other stuff she did. Her best shot was trying to seem cooperative. "I know him, yes. He was a costumer at the shop, came every now and then. It has been a while since I have last seen him, though." The woman crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows at him. "And if something happened, I can assure you it has nothing to do with a small coffee shop. He barely came, only once a week tops. So... Is that all, officer?"

[estudio-conatble-lidercontab]

Estudio contable en lima Lidercontab

Ubícanos       

Lidercontab Estudio Contable en Miraflores - Calle 2 de Mayo 516, Ofic 201 Miraflores, Lima 18, 15046 Lidercontab Estudio Contable en Surco - Av. Circunvalación Golf los Incas N° 208 Int. 602B Torre3 – Surco – Lima – Peru Lidercontab Estudio Contable en San Isidro - Av. Javier Prado Este 560 – Ofic. 2302, San Isidro

Ubícanos       

Calle 2 de Mayo 516, Ofic 201 Miraflores, Lima 18, 15046 Av. Circunvalación Golf los Incas N° 208 Int. 602B Torre3 – Surco – Lima – Peru Av. Javier Prado Este 560 – Ofic. 2302, San Isidro

Llámanos

(01) 2203287 (01) 2203288 987755629

Horarios 

De Lunes a Viernes de 9 am a 6 pm

[entretodosdigital]

La maldición del puente

New Post has been published on https://entretodos.com.mx/opinion/corren-rumores/la-maldicion-del-puente-3/

La maldición del puente

Corren Rumores

Hilario Olea

GOBERNADOR VS. ALCALDE… Se había tardado en aparecer la llamada “Maldición del Puente”, que es el enfrentamiento en mayor o menor grado, entre el gobernador y el alcalde de la capital. Cuando todos pensaban que en esta segunda parte del sexenio estatal transitarían igual, con buena relación, pues ¡sorpresa!, parece que hay rozones que puede escalar a pleito mayor entre el gobernador Alfonso Durazo y Antonio Astiazarán. Porque a fin de cuentas en esto termina la campaña que traen diputados de la 4T contra el ayuntamiento, y en la que ya se sumaron dirigentes de Morena y otros legisladores. Es obvio que no se mandan solos y tirarse a la yugular contra el alcalde capitalino es bajo consigna. El punto es preguntar ¿cuál es el motivo? Acaso será el destape  que hizo el exgobernador Guillermo Padrés de Toño Astiazarán. Eso bien pudo molestar a los vecinos y le mandaron un mensaje siciliano para que le baje.

NO SE SABE…En realidad, nunca se sabe con exactitud porque este pleito entre el alcalde capitalino y el gobernador.  Hay casos que ambos eran del mismo partido y a pesar de ello hubo rompimiento, como pasó con Guatimoc Iberry y Manlio Fabio Beltrones. Se comenta que la diferencia surgió porque el Guati se fue por la libre. Lo cierto es que hubo quienes buscaron reconciliar y más menos se logró. Y para mostrarlo se tomaron la foto dándose bola frente a palacio municipal, ahí con los boleros del Boulevard Hidalgo.  Otro pleito del mismo partido fue entre Javier Gándara y Memo Padrés. Todo esto fue por una campaña sucia contra el alcalde donde se metieron con la familia. No hubo choque pero si fuerte enfriamiento, al grado que al final del día dejaron a Gándara sin apoyo en la campaña contra Claudia Pavlovich.

SE DIERON FUERTE…Hay otros enfrentamiento que se dieron duro,  pero muy por debajo del agua, como pasó con el Dr. Samuel Ocaña y la Dra. Alicia Arellano. Después seguiría Casimiro Navarro, alcalde panista. Ni por asomo hubo reconciliación.  También operó la Maldición del Puente con don Faustino Félix Serna y don Jorge Valdez. Según las crónicas, al final hubo cierta reconciliación, pero ya los golpes habían sido dados al quitarle recursos para obras al ayuntamiento con la creación de las Juntas para el Progreso y Bienestar. Que pero le ponen al choque que se dio entre Armando López Nogales y Pancho Búrquez por la construcción de una desalador. Al final ganó el alcalde y el gobernador canceló el proyecto. Pero se odiaron con odio jarocho.  No hicieron malos quesos entre María Dolores del Río y Eduardo Bours con el tema del agua. También tuvieron lo suyo Claudia Pavlovich y Célida López.

¿SEGUIRÁ LA MALDICIÓN?…La pregunta es si va a continuar esta maldición del puente en esta parte del sexenio de Alfonso  y Toño.  Este primer round estuvo duro, porque se le tiraron a la yugular al alcalde al grado de que hay amenaza que no solo le van a bloquear el presupuesto del 2025, sino que planean sentarlo en el banquillo de los acusados con demandas legales. Por lo pronto  el alcalde capitalino está actuando de acuerdo a su estilo, que es salir por piernas y no caer en la trampa de enfrentarse con los mensajeros. Pero bueno, esto apenas inicia y se me hace que se podrá mejor que los tazones colegiales.

SE DESLINDA EL ALCALDE … Por cierto, antes de meterse en otras broncas, Toño Astiazarán dio a conocer que se deslinda y pone distancia de por medio, con el acto que hizo el exgobernador Guillermo Padrés en su rancho, donde lo destapó como futuro candidato del PAN a gobernador para el 2027. Como buen estilista salió por piernas y simplemente dijo que en este momento está ocupado en el gobierno municipal y no hay tiempo para campañas. También con esto manda mensaje a los vecinos para decirles que por lo pronto no se preocupen. Sin embargo,  el tener el apoyo de grupos internos panistas cuenta y mucho para estar primero en la lista. Además, para que nos hacemos, es el que está punteando en las encuestas dentro de la oposición. De modo, que no creo que le crean que hay tierrita volada.

En fin, por eso mejor cortón y recuerden lo que decía el Marcelino Cheves, el que nace pa’tamal, seguro tendrá buena panza. Sale.

Síganos en la cuenta de X o Twitter @hilarioolea.

Pueden vernos de lunes a viernes de 8 a 9 de la noche en nuestro canal de YouTube “Entre Todos Digital”.

Sigan nuestras redes sociales

[blcssom]

as his hands drop to lift the hem of her skirt, he can't help the eye-roll any mention of his ex prompts. "oh my god- as if she wouldn't flirt with jake when we had those group trivia nights! she's the least self-aware person i know." bold of him to talk when he'd spent their entire marriage denying his attraction to the same woman guiding her fingers around his cock now. his frustration comes out in a low groan, hips lifting in the search of more contact. he breaks into a grin at her words, though, using his hold at the small of her back to roll their position until her back can sink into the couch cushions as her parts her knees and settles between them. "so what you're saying is..... we should make up for lost time?"

"ah, fuck." she says it almost angrily because how is he so good at this and why has it taken so long and how she threads her fingers through his hair and moans - it's borderline violent. "yeah, well, that might explain her calling me a 'pick me' for simply existing in the same room as you guys." the continued reassurance that he'd thought about her like this for a while makes her feel happy in a way that's alien, and she looks away from it, instead reaching inside his boxers to grab him with a sweet smile. "if i'd known i made you this hard i would've fucked you right there and then, though."

[swldx]

BBC 0508 16 Nov 2024

9410Khz 0458 16 NOV 2024 - BBC (UNITED KINGDOM) in ENGLISH from ASCENSION ISLAND. SINPO = 45333. English, s/on @0458z with Bowbells int. fb ID, pips and Newsroom preview. @0501z World News anchored by David Harper. § Volodymyr Zelenskyy has said Russia’s war against his country will “end sooner” than it otherwise would have once Donald Trump becomes US president next year. “It is certain that the war will end sooner with the policies of the team that will now lead the White House. This is their approach, their promise to their citizens,” the Ukrainian president said in an interview with media outlet Suspilne on Friday. Zelensky said he had a “constructive exchange” with Trump during their phone conversation after his victory in the US presidential election. “I didn’t hear anything that goes against our position,” he added. § Malcolm X's family is suing the NYPD and federal government agencies over the civil rights leader's assassination in New York City. The $100 million lawsuit claims the New York City Police Department, FBI, CIA, Department of Justice and U.S. government played a role in Malcolm X's murder at the Audubon Ballroom in Washington Heights in 1965. § Argentina's courts have ordered the arrest of 61 Brazilians facing jail sentences for their involvement in the Brasilia riots last year. In January 2023, supporters of Brazil's former far-right president Jair Bolsonaro stormed Congress in an attempted overthrow of the new left-wing government led by Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, commonly known as Lula. Hundreds of the rioters were arrested, charged and released on bail. Some were convicted and sentenced. But others fled to Argentina to escape their sentences - particularly after far-right politician Javier Milei was elected president in December 2023. § Demonstrators against the government of Daniel Noboa clashed with police on Friday in several Ecuadorian cities in rejection of prolonged blackouts, insecurity, criminal violence and the ongoing economic crisis, which protesters attribute to the current administration. § The Guatemalan journalist Jose Ruben Zamora could be returned to prison after an appeals court Friday overturned an order that had moved him into house arrest. Zamora, who is the founder of the newspaper El Periodico, had been detained on questionable grounds for two years before being granted house arrest in October. But prosecutors appealed the order, and Friday the appeals court ruled that Zamora, who is 68, should return to prison. § Gabon holds a referendum Saturday on a new constitution that the junta calls a "major turning point" after a coup that brought the curtain down on 55 years of rule by the Bongo dynasty. § President Joe Biden is expected to use his final meeting with China’s leader, Xi Jinping, to urge him to dissuade North Korea from further deepening its support for Russia’s war on Ukraine. Saturday’s talks on the sidelines of the annual Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation summit in Peru come just over two months before Biden leaves office and makes way for Republican President-elect Donald Trump. It will be Biden’s last check-in with Xi, someone the Democrat saw as his most consequential peer on the world stage. § Sports. @0506z “The Newsroom” begins. 100' (30m) of Kev-Flex wire feeding "Magic Wand" antenna hanging in backyard tree w/MFJ-1020C active antenna (used as a preamplifier/preselector), JRC NRD-535D, 125kW, beamAz 27°. Received at Plymouth, MN, United States, 9763KM from transmitter at Ascension Island. Local time: 2258.