#me and the mutuals are besties I do not care if I’ve never talked to them we are besties

[assigned-boyking-at-birth]

[kiwisbell]

Las Mañanas || Chapter 7 [javier peña]

She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.

series masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: javi getting the fucking love he deserves, coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, so much fluff, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout, oral sex (m and f receiving), chucho being peak dad, lorraine is pretty chill, texas!javi comes with his own warning, The Flannel Shirt, mentions of swinging, jealous!javi, like very jealous!javi, extremely possessive sex, bathroom sex, sex during a wedding, baby fever, lube, anal sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, slight degradation (slut), fingering, squirting, "papi" used

word count: ~ 8.8k

a/n: this chapter is always and forever dedicated to @northernbluess and @tieronecrush for being especially passionate about the *activities* in this chapter. love you besties xoxo

chapter seven: granted wishes from your maker

They hold a second wedding party the day after they touch down in Texas, though it's too small to be called a party at all. 

Javier’s father hosts, too insistent on finally meeting his daughter-in-law to allow anything else. Her mother flies down from New York on Javier’s money and holds her daughter with such fervour, such wet-eyed joy, that it wrenches his chest open and tugs out his beating heart. It's just the four of them. It's small, and it's perfect. 

Chucho loves the new addition to his family, predictably. He's been talking to her once a week for a few years now, but there's something about seeing her in-person. Javier’s father is excitable as a sheepdog, waiting on her and her mother hand-and-foot even though they protest every second of it. At one point, though, Javier catches his dad and his wife together in the kitchen, washing dishes together over Gloria Estefan. 

She sings happily along with Chucho, letting him spin her around with laughter in her lilting voice as he sings right back to her. Javier watches from the living room while her mother comes up behind him. “When she first told me she found someone new,” she says, “I was so worried you'd be like Nicolás. She never told me the terrible things I know now, but she didn't need to. It was a mother’s intuition.

“You're a good man, Javier,” she tells him. The resolve in her voice reminds him of her daughter. “I know what you did in Colombia. I’ve never liked her being in a place like that. It's done nothing but hurt her. But I’m grateful for her to finally have someone who loves her the way—” She cuts herself off. There are tears that ache to fall from her eyes. 

He knows what she wants to say. The way I loved her father. 

Javier pulls her into a hug even he isn't fully prepared for. “Don't tell her I got sappy,” she sniffles into his chest. “Not a good look for me.”

“Our secret,” agrees Javier. “She's my whole life.”

“She’s mine, too.” Her mother smiles up at him, her daughter’s smile. “I will kill you if you hurt her, Javier.”

More people have threatened his life over her than the war on drugs. He gets it; he would do, and has done, the same. 

Javier squeezes her shoulders, and she squeezes his hand. They part ways—her going to inspect Chucho’s bookshelves in the living room, him going back to admiring his dancing wife—with the mutual understanding that they both care so much about the woman in the kitchen that they would give their lives for her. 

Javier slips into the kitchen, unnoticed, watching with his hands in his pockets as he leans against the wall. It's the most heart-wrenching sight he's ever seen. Not for the first time, he wishes desperately that his mom were still here to see the way he's carved out such a good life with this woman in front of him. 

She spots him first, halfway through another spin, and beams. “Come dance with me, Javi.”

“Take her, mijo,” says Chucho. “My hips aren't like they used to be.”

“You're doing just fine, Chucho,” she says fondly, kissing him on the cheek. “I just want your son to make himself useful and help me with dishes.”

Javier is already behind her, bringing his hands around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. He nips at her throat. “I can be real useful. I’ve got it from here, Pop.”

Chucho ruffles Javier’s hair the way he's always done. “Conseguiré los álbumes de fotos,” he says, a scheming grin beneath his white moustache as he leaves for the living room. 

Javier grimaces, but she grins eagerly, turning in his arms to slide her arms around his neck. She begins a slow half-dance, half-sway. “I can't wait to see you as a little baby. Those little cheeks…” 

“Careful, honey,” he says into her ear. “Might give you a kid if you keep saying things like that.”

She's still grinning like a cat. “We may need more practice,” she whispers right back. “Don't think you quite got it last time.”

“No?” He nips at her lobe. “Doubting my skills?”

“No,” she giggles, wiggling her hips in his grasp. “Just love when you come inside me.”

His vision goes white for a moment. “Christ. Don't say that.”

“Why not?” Her eyes are like a doe’s.

“I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock, smartass,” he grits out, keeping their hips pressed together. “You know exactly what you're doing.”

“I’m washing dishes,” she says with a shrug, turning back around and bumping her ass, accidentally, against his erection. She picks up a plate and begins to scrub. “You just can't keep it in your pants in your own father’s home.”

“Very funny, honey.” 

She reaches into her pocket when the plate is snug on the drying rack and produces a half-full pack of Nicorette. She plucks out a piece of gum and says, “Open. You’re grinding your jaw.”

He huffs, but relents, opening his mouth. “Wish you’d just kiss it into me,” he grumbles. “Feel like a baby bird.”

“That’s disgusting, Javier, and you’d feel even more like a baby bird if I spat a piece of gum into your mouth.” She takes his jaw between her thumb and fingers. “You’re doing so good.”

Javier talks a big game, but he is hopeless to resist the potential of getting to fuck his wife. He’s especially responsive to her praises. So, he grabs a dish and helps her clean.

~

Looking through photo albums of Javier’s childhood may be her new favourite hobby.

“Couldn’t let him out of my sight for two seconds, or he’d be drawing on the walls.” Chucho indicates the picture of a diaper-clad, pacifier-sucking baby Javier looking innocently into the camera. Behind him is a wall covered in black scribbles, which incidentally match those on Javier’s hands and nose. 

His wife is laughing so hard that tears well up in her eyes. “Oh, but look at those cheeks,” she manages through her fit of giggles. “Javi, you were so sweet.”

Javier tugs her legs over his lap on the sofa. “I’m always sweet,” he grumbles. 

She flips the page, and Javier catches a glimpse of a time he would rather forget. “No,” he says, reaching for the album. “Absolutely not.”

His wife gasps, her eyes glassy with new tears, lifting the book out of reach. Javier is ready to tackle her into the cushions. “Oh. My. God. You were in a Christmas play?” 

Chucho and her mother laugh together. “Best Christmas tree Laredo’s ever seen.”

Javier looks like he wants to sink beneath the cushions. She leans into him and kisses him on the cheek. “Amor,” she says, “you are the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.” 

He pouts, just so she will kiss him again. And she does, properly, on the mouth. “Please tell me,” she begs Chucho, “he had to sing.”

“Like a pequeña ave,” replies his father. 

Javier groans. 

She flips to another page and coos at the image of a five-year-old Javier making a snowman. “This wasn't in Texas,” she says in disbelief. 

“Dios, no,” says Chucho. “The three of us took a trip up to New York. He was always a flight risk. Looked away for two seconds and he was running out the door. Thought a vacation would do him good.”

“My adventurer,” she muses, beaming at her husband. He flushes under her attention and brushes his knuckle under her chin. 

They look through the albums until it's nearly midnight. She falls asleep on her mother’s shoulder on the couch and Javier doesn't have the heart to wake her. The next day, she and her mother say good-bye, and he rubs her feet in the bathtub over a shared glass of wine. It's quiet living here, and the sun rises on the ranch and the glittering river below, and the rooster croons. It's nothing like Colombia. It's why he can hold her so tightly and fall asleep, dreamless, breathing in her soft scent, without a gun in the bedside drawer. 

~

“We got a problem.” 

Javier emerges from the shower into his childhood bedroom, ruffling his dripping hair with the towel, stark naked. His wife eyes him up and down without shame, but fairly, he’s doing the exact same to her. She’s sitting cross-legged in front of the floor-length mirror, brushing her hair in only a flimsy lace bra and panties. 

“What?” She frowns.

“Pop didn’t exactly splurge on a new bed for when I came home to visit,” he explains. “And this one squeaks like a motherfucker.”

Her lower lip juts out. “But you look so good,” she says, abandoning her hairbrush and getting onto her knees with her hands in her lap. “So handsome.”

It might be the most erotic sight he's ever seen. He dries his hair as best he can and meets her where she kneels, cupping her chin. She tries to bring her hand up to his hardening cock. “Ah, ah, cálmate. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna lick you all over,” she says breathlessly, her tongue wetting her bottom lip. He’s hard and aching by now, watching her so eager and ready for him. “Want…”

“I’m listening, baby.” 

Her eyes are on him, filled with so much love and trust he feels like he's brimming with it.

“I want you to fuck my ass, Javi.”

His hand, once twirling his digits around locks of her soft hair, now tightens unwittingly until he’s jerking her head backward, forcing her to keep her eyes on him. “Jesus,” he groans. “You fucking serious?”

“Mhm,” she says, nodding frantically. “Wanted it for so long. I’ve been—getting ready. I want it to be good for you.”

He wants to tell her that it’ll be good for him no matter what, that she’s his wife and she’s perfect, but her wish has pushed a golden key inside him and unlocked something wild. “You want me to fuck you in the ass, right here on the floor? Huh? That what you want, baby? In front of the mirror?”

She squeaks out a small noise of affirmation, her pupils swallowing her irises. It isn’t good enough for the creature inside him. His nostrils flare down at her. “You want it?”

“Yes, baby,” she sighs, “please.”

He smirks. “Sit back and spread your legs. Let me see how badly you want it.”

She’s eager to comply. She leans back against the wall, next to the mirror, keeping her eyes on Javier as she eases her legs open. Two fingers slip down her body, achingly slow, from her throat down her sternum to the waistband of her panties. She teases him as much as herself, tracing the delicate lace with the pads of her fingers until she finally pulls them aside and lets him see the glistening core of her. Javier steps up to her feet and sinks to his knees, grabbing hold of her ankle and bracketing it around his hip. “Eso es mio,” he rasps, his hand lowering to warm her belly. His thumb briefly brushes her clit. 

“Todo tuyo,” she says softly. 

He shuffles closer to her until her thighs wrap around his hips. Her wetness glimmers in the darkness and her eyes are lustful pits he wants to fall inside. For a moment, they watch one another breathe, their chests heaving, synchronised, hearts pattering. Anticipation crests like waves over rock. Javier presses two fingers to her cunt, sliding up the slick wet slit. Her breath shudders. “Big talker,” he hums, leaning in and slanting his mouth over hers at the same time he pushes two fingers into her. She gasps, and he pushes his tongue against hers at the opportunity, sliding his free hand around her back and unclasping her bra. It slips off her shoulders and frees her tits, nipples hard and breasts pushing out along with her needy whimpers. 

“Mmm, Javi,” she pleads, turning to putty at the way he fingers her, his other hand pulling at her nipples, squeezing her tits, feeling every inch of soft, smooth skin he finds. He’s obsessed with tasting her, licking along her jaw until he finds her throat, her pulse point, and sucks on her soft skin. “Oh, my—oh, please, please… ‘m so wet, Javi…”

“Sé, mi amor,” he grunts. Her hips are writhing of their own accord, seeking out his cock which taps relentlessly at his stomach, craving the hot tightness of her body. “So fucking needy. Real desperate por tu esposo, huh?” She yelps when he smacks the side of her thigh and immediately brings the hand over her mouth. “Be quiet about it, baby. Gotta be quiet.”

He curls his fingers inside her and grins when her eyes roll back in her head. Her body tightens under him, his thumb at her clit making her tremble and lose all thought of biting his hand like a brat. She falls apart on his fingers, covering them with her slick arousal, biting her tongue with the effort not to cry out. She grabs onto his shoulders when he begins to pull away, but he just jerks her panties down her thighs and flings them aside. “Look at you,” he says, his eyes reverent in their path from her cunt to her sweaty, heaving chest to her lidded eyes. “Turn around. Hands and knees.”

Her core coils in giddy anticipation as she kneels facing the mirror. Javier shuffles around behind her and produces two pillows: one for her knees and another for his. They aren't teenagers anymore. “Need to get you ready for me,” he says, ever her sweet husband, dipping his fingers back into her wetness. She pushes her ass back into him, desperate to feel him move inside her, but he kneads the flesh there and says gruffly, “Be good and stay still. I’ll give you what you need, amor. Fuckin’ paint you with me.”

She watches him in the mirror as he admires her body from behind, but nothing prepares her for the first touch at her other hole. He's traced and teased it while fucking her from behind, but never more than that. They’ve both wanted it—she has craved the feeling of him claiming the only place left on her body he hasn't christened, and he's ached to stake his territory there, filling her tight hole with his cum like he's done with the rest of her. She gasps when she feels his slick finger prod that delicate flesh. The touch alone makes her keen against him, biting down on her lip at the shockwave of surprising pleasure it gives her. 

“Anyone ever fuck you here?” 

The question comes out rough, his eyes not meeting hers. They're fixed on her ass, where his finger begins to disappear inside her. 

“No.” It comes out in an exhale. “Never let them. Never let him.”

That undoes him. It feels like a privilege to be the one who gets to fuck her where no one has. Something surges up inside his chest and lodges in his throat. His voice sounds like it's been dragged over coals. “You’re gonna let your husband take you,” he says, pushing his finger inside until he’s knuckle-deep, smoothing his free hand over her ass, up her arched spine, until he places pressure at her shoulder blades. She follows his whims without hesitation, her upper back dipping until her cheek brushes the floor. “Fucking perfect. Mi esposa. My perfect girl. I’m gonna fill you full, baby. Gonna stretch you out.”

He's babbling, overcome with the lust curling in his gut, her soft, gurgling moans only fuelling his fire. When he adds another finger, she cries out with the stretch, her cheek resting on the floor and her fingers curling into nothing. “Oh,” she groans, trying to stay quiet, “‘s good, Javi. S’good.”

He chuckles. She's drunk off his touch already, thighs trembling and lips parting in a series of desperate whispering gasps. “One more,” he says. “Tranquila. Let me in, amor.”

She shudders as her spine decompresses, her back arching deeper, her arms giving out entirely. She's butter in his hands when he slips a third finger inside her, easing her open. She hides her face in her forearm to keep herself quiet. “That's it,” he urges, chest sore with pride for the way she takes him without complaint. “Ready for me, baby?”

She nods frantically into her arm. “Papi,” she whimpers. “Dámelo. Por favor.”

Javier’s cock spurts precum on her round ass, as intrigued by the nickname as he is. He wraps her hair around his hand like a tourniquet and yanks her head upward. “If I’m going to fuck you in the ass,” he says, “I want you to watch. ¿Claro?”

In the mirror, their eyes meet, and hers—heavy and hazy with lust—glimmer at him. She nods. “There’s—there's lube,” she pants. “In your bag. Bought it yesterday.”

“Bad girl,” he tuts. He scrambles backward and rifles through his bag until he's squirting some of the clear stuff onto his palm and slicking up his cock with it. Javier slides his head up through her drenched slit, making her squeal with the coolness, and nudges the head at the entrance to her puckered hole. She keens against him. “Nnghh” is vaguely the sound he hears from her throat. 

“Breathe,” he whispers, easing himself slowly into the threshold. He hisses, overcome with the sudden hot tightness, grip ironlike on her hip to keep himself from jerking forward and hurting her. 

Bringing herself back up to her hands, she lets him open her up until he's balls-deep in her, gritting his teeth and stilling so she can relax around him. She pants, watching him in the glass. Javier’s eyes drop to the place where their bodies meet, where she swallows and chokes his cock, her hole pulsing around him. “Fucking Christ. Fucking tight , fuckin’—Jesus, baby. Let me—” He grabs her hips to stop her from squirming, to keep himself from coming too soon. 

“Feels… oh, shit,” she whispers. “You're so big, Javier. So deep.”

The praises force his hips forward, driving deliciously deep inside her. She moans low in her chest and claps her hand over her mouth. “Shhh. Take it, just a bit more. You can take me, baby, can't you?” Javier soothes her with his hands, caressing the softness of her hips and her ass and her back. 

“Yes,” she says, reaching back and squeezing his wrist. “I can take it. Fuck me. Please.”

“Good. Good girl.” He feeds her his cock again, grinding his hips up against her ass. Her eyes slip toward the back of her skull. “Eyes. On. Me.” He punctuates every word with a thrust, hitting deep and hard, making her knees buckle and her tits swing. 

She can feel him in her guts, her throat, like this. He reaches deep with every thrust and knocks out all the strength in her limbs. He fucks her with a steady rhythm and never lets his grip on her falter. He's caring and gentle where it counts, but getting fucked like this is a dream. It’s rough and so, so good. Her breaths shove out of her with every punch of his cock inside her ass, and when he reaches between their bodies to rub her clit, she gasps out, “Cover my mouth, cover my mouth!”

He obeys happily, covering her body with his and humping her like a dog as he slips his hand over her mouth and holds onto her jaw. His pace increases until he's thoroughly wrecking her. She's so close that stars are bursting in her eyes, but he does not relent. All she can manage are muffled gasps behind his hand as her thighs begin to shake and her elbows give out. Javier catches her before she can fall to the ground, rocking back onto his haunches with her back flush with his chest. “See that?” he pants into her ear. “See how good I fuck you?”

She watches him rub her clit in the mirror until she explodes with the force of her orgasm, her entire body electrified, static, dust. The glint of their wedding rings catch in the moonlight. She shudders and sobs and soaks his hand with her tears as her cunt soaks his cock, his thighs. He fucks her through it and grunts like a rapid animal in her ear when he follows suit, burying himself deep and emptying every spurt of hot cum into her ass. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rasps, biting down on her jaw as he tries to calm the shockwaves that thrum at his spine. 

He eases them both to the ground, lying on his back while he settles her beside him, half-on top of him with her face nestled in his throat. She bites him there, gently. “How do you feel?” she whispers.

“Like I fucking died and went to heaven, baby.” He squeezes her side. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“Just enough,” she teases, brushing aside his still-damp hair. “You were perfect, Javi. That was perfect. My perfect esposo.”

He’s never understood how a woman like her can love him, but he's learned long ago never to complain or question. He can only drag her closer and kiss her hard on the mouth. “Amor de mi vida.” 

He pushes the words into her tongue and makes her swallow them. He wants her to know it every hour of every day. She grins uncontrollably until their teeth clack together. “We need another shower.”

He grabs a handful of her ass. “Mala,” he grumbles, “getting your husband to fuck you in the ass in his childhood bedroom.”

“I couldn't help it,” she hums. “He looked so delicious. Had to have him.”

Javier kisses her nose. “He's a lucky fucker.”

“Yeah, he is.” She stretches out with a delighted sigh, her tempting body spread like a lounging cat. Javier exhales a little too hard through his nose. 

“I need to clean you up,” he says.

“Carry me,” she offers, closing her eyes and turning onto her stomach. Slowly, she stretches backward until she's in child’s pose, her ass on display for him—alongside the white droplets of cum leaking from her abused hole. 

“Fucking…” He sits up and, with a thumb, swipes the mess from where it's fallen to her pussy and slips it back inside. She gasps. “Keep that in there, and I’ll carry you wherever the fuck you want.”

She giggles. “You have yourself a deal, Mr. Peña.”

He huffs. “Mi linda camarera. Never knew you'd be such a little slut for me, Mrs. Peña.”

“You and only you, vaquero,” she says, cupping his cheek with that wicked smile on her face. 

He turns his head to the side and kisses her palm. “Said I would carry you, baby. C’mere.”

She clicks her tongue, rising to her feet. “Javi. Your back isn't what it used to be.” She helps him to his feet, the both of them drenched in sweat and each other's scents and the haze of sex. “Want me to carry you?” 

Fucking fox. 

~

“Stop teasing me, bonita.”

She looks back at him and rolls his eyes, reaching backward for his hand. “I’m just walking, hotshot.”

“That's the problem.” Javier catches up to her so he doesn't have to keep ogling her ass underneath that pretty dress. It’s a sundress, accounting for the Texas heat, deep red to match the flannel he wears, and it fits her nice and snugly in the way that shows off her curves. He’s grumpy before they’ve even stepped foot inside the venue, but it’s mostly because he can’t feel her up too much at a wedding. “I need a fuckin’ cigarette,” he says into her ear. 

She brushes her thumb over his chin. “Keep on chewing, my love. We’ll get through it.”

We. He slides his hand down her back and pinches her ass, making her gasp and glance around for witnesses. “Let ‘em see. Nobody’s got it as good as me.”

“I have to meet your ex today,” she says with a huff. “I’ve got it less good.”

“You’ve got something in common.” She lifts a brow at him, and he grins. “Terrible judge of character.”

She slaps him on the chest, but Chucho finally catches up to them on the steps in front of the door. “He’s got a point, mijita.”

“So,” she says, “Danny works in construction, Lisa’s a real estate agent, they’ve got two kids—Annie and Mary—and the maid of honour and best man are Victoria and Luis.”

“You got it, baby. Avoid the father of the bride, though. Tito. He’ll be drunk off his mind, and I don’t want him feeling you up or trying to recruit you to sell dick pills.”

“I can sell dick pills,” she says proudly. “I can sell anything.”

Javier kisses her knuckles. “I know you can.”

She beams. “I’ll be hanging around the kids, anyway. I miss kids. I miss Livi.”

If Javier knows anything about his wife, it’s that she gets baby fever. While Steve and Connie were still in Colombia, she was obsessed with their baby Olivia, gave her anything and everything she asked for and always held her. Rocked her to sleep and fussed over her like a true mom. It’s why he knows he’s got to give her a kid.

She stopped using birth control about a month after they arrived in Texas. They’ve discussed it at length and they know the consequences, but neither of them have suggested he stop finishing inside her. The prospect of knocking her up excites him too much; he wants that life with her, wants to give her a baby and be a parent. He never thought he was ready for a thing like that, not even when he briefly thought it would become real with Lorraine, until he met her. Now, he’s insatiable. He’s going to give his wife a child someday, he’s going to watch her grow round and glow, and she’s going to crave all sorts of weird shit. He’ll give her all of it. 

They are met with multiple sets of eyes as they step inside and weave through the crowd, hand-in-hand. It’s been years since he’s stepped foot back in Laredo, and the last time he saw so many of these people together in one room, he’d abandoned his fiancée at the altar and he hadn’t dipped so much as a toe in the war on drugs in Colombia. And now, he was returning after seven years, discharged for conspiracy and married to a new woman. He understands their curiosity, but he isn’t particularly fond of the way they eye up his wife. Still, most people try to be discreet about it. They look, certainly, but they turn their heads and re-engage in conversation as the Peñas find their seats at a round table. Chucho is up again before he can fully sit down, excusing himself to speak with a neighbouring ranch hand. 

Javier tugs on the legs of her chair to slide her closer. “You look beautiful,” he tells her, bringing her in for a kiss. 

She nibbles his lip quickly, like it’s a secret she gives him, before she pulls away, grinning. “So do you. Let’s take you shopping for more plaid shirts sometime, hmm?”

Javier doesn't suspect there's a single article in his wardrobe she doesn't like, but he takes the compliment with another kiss. “Heads up,” she mumbles into his mouth. 

“Javier!” says a male voice. “I’m glad you came.”

Javier looks up at the man and frowns. It’s the energetic gleam in those blue eyes he recognises first. “Danny?”

The man is in his early twenties, dark-haired and wild with excitement, grinning broadly and twisting his hands about. “Getting married and everything.”

Javier shakes his head. “Jesus, I’m old.” He claps the man on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Danny. You’re a good kid.”

Danny grins and shakes hands with Javier’s wife. “It’s really good to meet you, Mrs. Peña. Your husband used to babysit me, you know.”

“I… certainly didn’t,” she says, a laugh escaping her mouth. She says her congratulations and  lifts her brows at Javier once Danny makes his way over to Chucho on the other side of the ballroom. “You were a babysitter?” 

“First job I ever had,” says Javier. “Taking care of that bundle of fuckin’ energy.��

She licks her lips. “I want you inside me so badly right now. Oh! There’s Lorraine. I should go bite the bullet.”

She bolts upright and crosses the room while Javier is left sitting, stunned, and suppressing an imminent erection. It’s going to be a long night. 

“Lorraine?” 

The blonde woman turns around, a twelve-year-old attached to her leg, and smiles. “You must be Mrs. Peña.”

She introduces herself properly and shakes Lorraine’s hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. And what's your name, beautiful?” she asks the young girl clinging to her mother. 

“Samantha,” says Lorraine, in that sweet southern sting, “come say hi. She's shy. Lots of people.”

“Oh, so am I.” She kneels down and waves at the little brown-haired, wide-eyed girl. “You know what my pápa used to say to me? Even if there are a hundred people around you, it's a hundred people too busy worrying about themselves to worry about bothering you.” She pulls a lollipop from her pocket, one she swiped from the table, and offers it to the girl. “But here I go, bothering you. Will this make it up?”

Samantha giggles and accepts the sweet. “Thank you, miss.”

Lorraine strokes Samantha’s hair. “Sammy, sweetie, go find your dad.”

The girl scampers off, and Lorraine watches her go fondly. 

“She's beautiful.”

“She is,” says Lorraine. “You know, pretty much the last thing I was expecting was for Javier to come back married. Thought he would drown down there. I’m glad he didn't.”

She's somewhat unsure how to reply to that. “I… He's strong. He's a good man. It wasn't me that got him through it, but I’m glad, too. He's been through a lot.”

Lorraine snorts good-naturedly. “It was you, honey. You see the way that man looks at you? Shit, he's doin’ it right now.”

She glances across the room and finds her husband, mid-sip from a bottle of beer, watching her with an appreciative glimmer in those rich dark eyes. She warms; not a day has gone by he still doesn’t make her nervous and giddy. Her fingers find the skirt of her sundress and playfully swirl it around her thighs for him. He grins widely and lifts his brows at the flash of her thighs. 

“Never saw him so happy,” says Lorraine. “Ain’t it sickening?”

She smiles at the woman. “I think I’m pretty sick, too.”

“He got lucky with you. Never was lucky with me.” Lorraine shakes her head with a self-deprecating laugh. “We were kids. Real stupid. I made a mistake. You seem a lot smarter than that.” 

“Sometimes,” she says, “we screw up. I married a guy who nearly got me killed. It’s where we are once all that shit’s over that matters. I like where I am now. And you… Lorraine, you’ve got a beautiful family.”

The woman watches her husband lift their daughter into his arms. “You ever think about having little ones?”

“Did you?” she asks. “With Javi, I mean?”

Lorraine looks at her wryly. “I don't think we were ever adults when we were together. Symptoms of a small town. But he's a good guy, always wanted to see the world while I wanted to stay in my own—we both fucked each other up, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“For what it's worth,” she says, “I want to do right by him.”

“Oh, honey, you already have. More than I ever hoped to.” Lorraine snorts, lifting a glass of champagne from the table nearby. “To doing better the second time around.”

She swipes a glass herself and toasts. “To family.”

When she returns to her husband, she slides the champagne in front of him. “What's the occasion, bonita?” he asks, leaning in close and nudging her cheek with his nose before kissing her there. 

“It’s a wedding, honey,” she says. “Besides—what if I’m pregnant?” She clicks her tongue. “Not doing anything to hurt your baby.”

She isn't pregnant; she's been taking tests weekly since she quit birth control. But it's fun to watch his pupils darken his earthy irises. He reaches for her like the touch gives him oxygen and squeezes her thigh beneath the table, beneath her dress. It must be the way she says your baby. 

It's the way she says your baby that has Javier squeezing her like he's kneading dough. “Te voy a follar esta noche (I’m going to fuck you tonight),” he whispers in her ear, “y me daras una bebe (and you’ll give me a baby).”

She shivers, turning her head to slant her mouth over his. “Mi amor,” she mumbles, cupping his cheek and pulling away to look at him fondly. 

“Was she nice to you?” asks Javier, attempting a casual tone. 

“She was perfectly civil,” she scolds gently, “and she’s doing well. Says I make you happy.” She bites her lip when she grins at him. “That true, baby? I make you happy?”

Javier is inches away from taking her to a bathroom and fucking her inside a stall. “You make me”—he smiles back, squeezing both her thighs—“real happy.”

“I’ll make you even happier tonight,” she promises. His cock jumps in his jeans, but she stands abruptly with a wicked gleam in her eye. “I should go mingle some more.”

Javier nearly jumps to follow her like a puppy, but she’s gone and a body blocks his way before he can. “Don't be a hermit, mijo,” says his father. “Tu esposa is better at talking than you.”

Javier knows he's right, but he's having trouble suppressing his erection after her little promise in his ear. He clears his throat. “Sí,” he grumbles, staring longingly after his wife in her beautiful red dress, finding Danny and Lisa’s daughters, Annie and Mary. Her stunning smile is knocking them dead, and he feels pride swell inside him at how well she navigates this new town, this new family. 

Something else rises to his throat, a choking feeling that makes him lightheaded and worsens the issue in his jeans. She's so good with those kids, happy with them, letting them lead her around by the hands and skirt and playing along with their games. When they call someone on their toy phone, she picks it up and starts a dramatic fight with someone on the other end.

Love scratches at him like a real bitch. 

He does end up mingling from crowd to crowd, accepting handshakes and thanks and congratulations, as if he personally untied each of these people from railroad tracks. He doesn't deserve the way they clap his shoulder and smile and schmooze. Thank you for all you did over there, Javier. 

Over there. 

Like it was a fantastical world, something elusive and mystical. Exotic, exciting. He nods and smiles, moving through the room like he's prized cattle. He can bullshit his way out of red tape and death threats and deals gone sour. He can't bullshit his way out of people thanking him for a job well done. 

“For a former varsity athlete, you handle attention like a turtle.”

When he turns his head, Lorraine is grinning like the cat who got the cream. He snorts, but it's scarcely heard over the music and chatter. “Good to see you, Lorraine.”

She embraces him and frowns. “You smell like mint.”

“Trying the Nicorette thing.” He grimaces.

“Why in the hell would you wanna do that?” She shrugs. “I guess I know why.” Her eyes flit toward his wife, still playing with Annie and Mary on the other side of the ballroom, and a smile lifts her mouth. “She's a catch, Peña.”

Her husband Randy materialises, their daughter Samantha on his shoulders. “Randy,” greets Javier, shaking his hand. “How you doing?”

“Good, man.” Randy grins up at his daughter. “Can't complain. I see you got hitched. Good for you.”

Apparently, it's the talk of the town. “Thanks,” says Javier. “Seems like you two got it pretty good.” He smiles at Samantha, whose apple cheeks flush as she returns his smile with a tentative wave. There's a shrunken lollipop in her hand. 

Randy departs to take his daughter to the bathroom. Javier clears his throat. “Listen, Lorraine… I know what I did.” He tries to meet her eye, but his gaze keeps flickering back toward Samantha. The little girl he once thought was his. “We both fucked up. But I’m sorry. I shouldn't have done it like that.”

Lorraine sighs, lighting up a cigarette. “I’m sorry, too, Javier. But I can’t pretend like I’m not glad it happened. We were damn bad together.” He offers her an amused look. “I never should've lied to you. But it led me here, and it led you… well, there.” She smiles at the woman in the red dress who's carrying two four-year-olds on her hips and dancing with them to Gloria Estefan. “She loves you somethin’ fierce.”

He knows. God, he knows. “I don't deserve her.”

“And I don't deserve my little Sammy,” she says. “But I can't breathe without her. I think it's good to be a little selfish now and then, ain't it?”

Javier smiles, and something warm and gentle settles in his chest. “Might be right.”

~

The wedding is sweet and humble. She and Javier hold hands throughout the ceremony, and she cries even though she hardly knows the bride and groom. “Cariño,” he whispers in her ear as the bride and groom seal their vows with a kiss. He does the same to her, kissing a tear right from her cheek. “You want a ceremony like that, baby?” 

She knows he'll give her anything if she wants it, even if he doesn't love the attention. But she shakes her head. “I have everything I want,” she tells him. “I’m looking at him right now.”

She offers to get drinks at the open bar for Javier and Chucho, sliding into a stool and ordering a whiskey and mojito. There's a lineup, but she has plenty of patience as a former waitress. 

“I'd offer to buy you a drink, but it's free, so maybe I could just slide one over to you and pretend I paid?” 

This comes from a man she doesn't recognise. He's tall and broad, wearing a nice grey suit and a head full of salt-and-pepper hair. He sits next to her, a perfectly pleasant smile on his face. 

“You're very sweet,” she says, “but my husband might get the wrong idea.” She lifts her left hand and shows off the diamond. 

He just watches her. “Is your husband here?”

Shit, she thinks. He's one of those. He may be joking, but Javier has been watching her all night, keeping an eye on her in that dress, and if he's been watching then, he's certainly watching now. And he'll see this man ignore a blatant refusal. 

“He is,” she says evenly. The bartender, a Southern-comfort woman with a dimple and a curly up-do, signals at her with her eyes when she slides the drinks over, but she just smiles and shakes her head. One way or another, this will be handled soon. 

The man flashes his own wedding ring at her, and oh, she thinks. He's one of those. “My wife’s here, too. You, uh… interested in sharing?”

“No.” Javier’s voice is short and rucked with irritation, that rasp of impatience that always makes him sidle up a bit closer to her, squeeze her waist a little harder. Her grumpy old dog. He doesn't even look at the swinger while he pushes his face into her throat and kisses her just below her jaw. “You're cold, baby.” 

She isn’t cold at all. He shucks off his plaid shirt, leaving him in a grey T-shirt, and places it over her shoulders. and she wants to laugh at how purely and unabashedly territorial the action is. 

“Javier, this is…” She lifts her brows to prompt the man, trying to remain polite. 

“Mike.” He lifts his hand to shake Javier’s hand. 

Her husband just glares. “You wanna fuck my wife, Mike?”

“Javi…” 

Mike raises his hands as a mediating gesture. “I didn't mean to step on any toes. My wife and I… We just wanted to ask.”

“We know,” she says softly, sliding off the stool and pushing a drink into her husband’s hand. “Thank you for the offer, Mike, but we don’t share.”

He nods his understanding, a bit too vigorously, thanks to Javier’s deathly stare. “Of course. Sorry. Have a good night, you two.” 

She practically drags Javier away from the bar and back to their table, but he just puts down the drinks, mumbles about the bathroom, and takes her hand. He pulls her along so fast she has to jog to keep up. “Javi, please,” she says, “slow down.”

He’s fuming by the time he pulls her into the fancy little bathroom and manhandles her against the door. His nostrils are flaring and his chest heaves even though they've walked about twenty feet. He's fucking mad. It shouldn't be sparking hot like stones in her core, making her body seek him a little more, her lips parting to take in more air. 

“Javier.” It pushes out of her mouth like a desperate prayer. 

He sighs real hard, his hand lifting to brush her hair behind her ear. She suspects it's the last-ditch effort at being gentle. She knows what's about to come. 

“You've been teasing me all night,” he says lowly, not meeting her eye but instead tracing the pads of his fingers over her shoulder. They ghost over her collarbones, the hollow of her throat, the touch reverent but possessive. His eyes are black holes. “This fucking dress… You're so beautiful, baby.”

She shudders when his fingers drift down to her side, finding her thigh and hitching up the side of her dress. He wants to make her squirm, and it's working. She writhes in his grip as his fingers skirt her panties but never make a move to slip beneath them. “Suave,” he mutters. When he finds her pink lace panties, light enough they could be white, he swears. “You wear this for me?”

“Well, you look so good in pink,” she says. “Thought I’d try it out.”

He gives her ass a gentle slap. “Does this match?” he asks, a curious hand drifting up her ribs to where her bra should be. 

“Not wearing one,” she says. 

He bares his teeth like he wants to chew on her and squeezes her tits right through her dress. She sighs with the feeling, his greedy touch a balm to her skin, his fingers circling her hard nipples and his exploration drenching her core all the more for him. And yet, he's barely touching her. 

“No one can see you like this,” he says. His wife is a work of art. She belongs in a museum. But he's a selfish man, and the thought of others admiring, lusting after, feeling her makes him grind his teeth for a cigarette. “No one but me. Tu esposo. ¿Claro?”

If he wants to tease her back, she'll match him. 

“What if I wanted it?” she says breathlessly, sliding her hands up his strong, capable arms. “What if I was about to say yes?”

He recognises the game right away, but it doesn't amuse him. His hands shove her hips up against the door. He's done being gentle. “You wanted him to fuck you, huh?” His fingers finally dip into her panties and swipe through her slick cunt. “That what got you so wet? Thinkin’ about another man?”

“She wanted you,” she says, grasping his shoulder so she can steady herself. “His wife. You're so handsome, strong, sexy… She'd be stupid not to want you. What if you wanted her, too?”

He frowns deeply and buries his mouth in the curve of her throat. “Don’t give a shit about anyone’s wife but mine. Don't want to look at anyone else. Don't want anyone else looking at you.”

She doesn't want to torture her husband, not when he begins to rub circles on her clit. “Please, baby…”

“He thinks he can touch my wife,” he grunts, jaw clenched. “Thinks he can take what’s mine. You’re mine.”

The words drench her in sweat and want. Want, want, want. He pushes hard on her clit and she cries out. “Shhhh,” he says, nosing along her cheek until he finds her mouth but doesn't quite kiss her. Two fingers prod inside her, soak themselves in her wetness. He knows it's all for him. He's too damn cocky not to. Her head thuds against the door. “This body’s mine,” he grits out, punctuating each word with a roll of his thumb, a curl of his fingers. “This pussy’s mine. Nobody fucking. Touches. My. Wife.”

“Javi!” she whines, spiralling up toward her peak so fast she doesn't even see it coming. She coats his fingers with more slick and pants into his cheek, her legs buckling. He sucks a bruising kiss into her throat, growling against her skin. When he removes his fingers, the squelching sound makes her crumble like sand between his fingers, her wetness flooding her panties. She's still arching against him when he pulls them all the way down to her ankles and, when they're off, tucks them into his back pocket.

“Turn around and spread your legs.” 

His voice, dark and demanding, makes her do it without question. She braces her hands on the door and feels him crowd her, hands on her hips and lips on her shoulder. 

“Muy dulce,” he says into her skin. “You're not a fucking whore for other men to fucking use. Malparido… thinking I’d share this. I don't fucking share.”

“Only you,” she sighs, a hazy smile on her face at the feel of him draping himself over her. “It’s only you, amor. Mi esposo. Don't wanna share you with anyone.”

They don't have much time before someone comes looking, so he shoves his jeans down just enough to pull out his cock and collects her wetness on the head. She hums, ass pushing back on him. “Stay still,” he hisses, notching himself at her dripping hole. His animal half—the part that wants to mount her and fuck her so deep, so hard, that she feels him forever—itches up his throat and makes him grab at her with possessive hands. His fingers will bruise her hips, and she moans at the way he handles her like a doll. 

“Should go back and knock his teeth out, looking at my fuckin’ wife like that.” Javier bottoms out inside her, feeding her his cock until he's pressing at her womb, his trembling hand snaking around to rest at her belly. All of him is trembling with impatience and rage, and a strained choke leaves her when he fucks into her deep. “That's it. Take it, bonita. Fuckin’ take me, good girl—”

He loses himself in his ramblings once he sets a pace, and it's a punishing one. For all his big talk, he goes non-verbal when he's inside her, slamming his hips against her round ass, watching it bounce, watching himself disappear inside her sweet, wet cunt. His cunt. He's obsessed with her: her body, her noises, the drag of his cock against her walls that suck him in so deep it's like they're trying to keep him there. “I’m yours, Javi,” she says, her breaths stuttering out as he slams his hips against her. “God, fuck, I’m yours. Take—take me like it.”

She knows what he wants, and she gives it to him happily. He needs to fuck all the anger out of his system, the rage he feels at knowing other men want her, that other men will try to take her from him, right fucking in front of him. She's a siren, beautiful and gentle and sweet, and he's a goddamned monster. He fucks her like one, and she coos at him softly through it all, telling him it's okay, take what you need, it's all yours, I’m all yours. No one else.  

He makes her come again, the pressure on her belly and the aching rhythm of his cock pounding her deep, the wet noises of sex penetrating the room and fogging up the mirror. It's filthy and it makes her come all the same. She stiffens and gushes, her juices dribbling onto his length and down his balls, while she moans and gasps and tries to breathe. 

He bares his teeth and sets a faster pace, bringing her body up against his chest as he puffs into her neck and reaches deeper, harder, somehow. She whimpers at the unexpected surge of pleasure she gets from being used like a toy for him to dump his cum inside. Just for him. He's normally so considerate, so gentle, and the rough edges he's working out now are chipping away at her. Now, she's coming again, suddenly, unaware of it until it's upon her. 

“Ohhhh,” she moans, shivering, a spray of wetness soaking his cock until it's so slick with her that he's nearly slipping out. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he pants, working her limp body for himself, pushed ever closer to the edge by her gush of cum all over him. It's so easy to tug her hair, bite down on her shoulder, push his cock so deep inside her it kisses her womb. It's so easy to use her and bend her when she's like this, pliant and hazy in her orgasmic state. 

“I'm the one who gets to fuck you like this,” he says, smacking the side of her thigh. “I’m the one who gets to give you a baby. Want me to give you a baby?”

She's muttering, yes, yes, yes, over and over, and he only comes when he's pressed as much of himself inside her as he can. He spills endlessly, hot cum spurting inside her and dripping out around his cock. There's so much of it that he pulls out until only his head is left inside, watching it twitch and pump its load into her used pussy. Then, he pushes himself all the way back inside and finishes at her womb, hissing at the way she rolls her hips against him to collect more of what he's giving her. 

"Ávida,” he grumbles, kissing her cheek and the corner of her mouth. “So good, baby. I’m… shit, I’m sorry.”

She giggles, drunk on cock. “Sorry? But I love when you fill me up.”

He pulls out and turns her around just so he can look at her. She looks like she's been fucked, hard. Her eyes are red and rimmed with tears, her lips puffy and her cheek rosy from being pressed up against the door. Her pussy is dripping his spend down her thighs, which tremble from the force of his need for her. “When you say things like that,” he says, swiping his thumb across her chin, “you make me wanna fuck you all over again.”

She just giggles again. Javier cleans her up and slides her panties back up her legs so nobody sees her bare ass. He secures his jeans over his hips and buttons up his flannel over her shoulders. “You like me wearing your clothes,” she says. 

“I like you all the time.” He kisses her. “Did I hurt you?”

“Only in the ways that count, vaquero. I won't break that easily.” She brushes her hair with her fingers and beams at him. “I like you showing me what's yours.”

He pulls her in by the waist. “No shithead swinger is gonna take you from me.”

Everyone knows what they've done when they walk out together, looking mildly more sweaty than they were when they arrived. Still, the party goes on. People fuck at weddings all the time. 

It's what he tells himself when his father looks sternly at him and Javier feels like he's fifteen all over again. His wife looks just as sheepish, but it doesn't stop him from reaching for her hand under the table and holding it for the rest of the reception. 

~

“Javi!”

Her shaky voice comes from the front hall, and it shifts Javier’s senses into red-alert. He bolts out of the kitchen and meets her at the front door, ready and eager to tell someone to fuck off. But she's alone. Staring down at a piece of paper. 

“Baby? What's wrong?” He caresses her arms from behind, squinting at the small print of the letter. He isn't wearing his glasses. 

“They…” She turns in his grasp and he finds uncertainty in her eyes. “They signed off. To bring you back.”

~

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[opultea]

Genshin Character Interactions I'd Love to See

(AKA some headcanons)

Kazuha & Razor:

Seems like a random combo but hear me out:

They both have a connection to nature and especially smells

Imagine Razor meeting Kazuha for the first time

"Smell like... cool breeze,"

"Thank you, my friend, you carry the scent of rock warmed in afternoon sunlight"

Instant besties

Razor's eyes light up, and whenever he's with Kazuha he likes to point out smells even more then usual because he feels like they're bonding

Although Kazuha uses a lot of words and phrases that Razor doesn’t understand, the poet is very patient, and is always willing to teach his fellow nature affiliate something new

Razor feels like he's gained a new teacher, and observes the way Kazuha seems so connected to nature but is still very much human, which helps the wolf-boy explore that balance in himself

Kazuha admires the simplicity and honesty with which Razor carries himself, never needing more than what the world provides him

Also Kazuha always understands what Razor's trying to say or do no matter how few words he uses

Kaveh & Bennett

Bad luck babies

They find out their mutual bad luck when Kaveh off-handedly complains about his debt, and Bennett immediately goes to comfort him, saying how he’s sure it’ll get better eventually, and hey! Everyone has avalanches chase them sometimes, and the occasional lightning strike to the skull!

Kaveh sighs: “Thanks, but I don’t think any metaphor will equate to my problems,”

“What do you mean metaphors?”

…

“You were using metaphors, right? Right, Bennett?”

He was not

But I imagine that once they get talking about their luck and especially their attitudes towards it, they really find a lot of interest in each other

Kaveh would hugely admire how Bennett always bounces back, always smiling and never afraid to keep going and keep feeling despite all the terrible occurrences he goes through each day

Bennett finds such solidarity in knowing an adult who’s plagued with bad luck, who is still incredibly successful. Bennett admires how Kaveh is renowned and famed throughout Sumeru for his work, and is a kind soul in his daily life, even with the troubles he has. Even though Bennett doesn’t think he needs to be famous, it’s nice to have real proof that even if he’s unlucky, he could still lead a great life

Klee & Xiao

Xiao would obviously be a bit standoffish at first

Klee views him as another one of those weird adults that doesn’t smile or talk, but she still trusts him innately

I like to think Klee is genuinely a good judge of character, and even if she finds someone weird, she feels that it doesn’t mean they can’t be a great person

Klee once asks Xiao to hold Dodoco for her while she tries to catch a frog in some mud, since Albedo’s always telling her to be careful with things she cares a lot about

Xiao is slightly stunted by the request and the bright smile that comes with it, but nods dutifully and carefully takes the little plush in his hands

Klee runs off to play, and when she gets back she’s more than pleased to see that Xiao is holding Dodoco to his chest, cupping him carefully and keeping him upright

Some adults just don’t respect Dodoco like Xiao does (Klee has had the terrible experience of people tucking Dodoco under their arm like a book! Not a good holder; one star review)

Upon returning to reclaim her friend, Klee gives Xiao as big a hug as her tiny arms can muster, and though Xiao’s eyes widen and his shoulder stiffen, he lets the small girl embrace him

Klee appreciates the respect Xiao shows her, even though she's small and young

Xiao is careful of how his karmic debt might affect this innocent child but lets himself relax at how Klee unabashedly loves the world. It inspires him to try loving more openly

Venti & Kaveh

So what if I’ve already put Kaveh on this list this is my post I do what I want

Sadge alcoholics with ✨dramatic tendencies ✨

You know they have the best stories tho

When these two come together, every room they enter is a party or every room they enter is a crying support room filled with regrets

Either way the room is filled with wine

Their energy is contagious and they can lead crowds of people to begin partying on a random Tuesday afternoon

But when they're in their feels, they look at each other with the understanding and empathy that they each wish they could gain from others in their lives

When Venti's soft voice carries out a melancholy ballad, Kaveh is the first to start crying

When Kaveh begins drunk rambling about his life, Venti's the one to pat his back, smiling softly despite the deep and old emotion his eyes hold

They hold a mutual and quiet understanding of the simultaneous pain and wonderment that living can bring that I think would be really interesting to see play out

Jean & Kokomi

I feel like if they met initially it would be all business

Discussions on foreign trade, sharing experiences from issues that have arisen in the past

All very professional

That is until either of them slips just a tiny bit about how freaking tired they are, and the other perks up and starts trying to subtly find out more

“Hm, it is a great honour to serve the people of Watatsumi Island, although I wish I had the energy to do more in a day,”

*cue Jean realising she may have just found an overworked buddy*

“Yes, I feel the same about the Knights of Favonius, there is always more to accomplish, though Lisa is always telling me to take more time to myself, although I don’t know how I could.”

“Exactly!” *cough* “I mean, yes, I understand how worrisome that must be.”

They silently sip their tea simultaneously, carefully fixing their posture

And then suddenly begin ranting and confiding in each other about how much they always have on their plate

🎶You’re just like me, I’m just like you~

Overall very cute relationship, they start off distanced by duty, and then become besties once they realise their common ground

Imagine them each making sure the other isn’t working too hard!

And they always listen to each other even if they don’t listen to others who tell them to take breaks because they know the other understands completely just how much they have to do

[doctorstethoscope]

Wonderstruck || Aaron Hotchner x fem reader

Hi besties missed you besties!! This is a little something sort of inspired by LDSK-- I was watching it and couldn't help but think how crushed I would be if I was in Spencer's shoes, lol. Not a direct au, just a little something adjacent to it!

and a huge thanks to @spacecowboyhotch for beta-ing this for me!

tw: misogyny, epithets against women, arguing, typical cm canon content.

wc: 2.1k

“He’s a violent misogynist. Sending her in might distract him enough to give us an opening,” Rossi says, mulling over Spencer’s suggestion to send you into an active hostage situation in an attempt to de-escalate.

“I’ll go,” you say, reaching for a vest. Hotch’s hand shoots out in front of yours, keeping you from the stack of protective equipment. 

“No you won’t. He’s a violent misogynist. I’m not sending you in to become a defenseless target.” He says, his jaw set.

“I’m not defenseless!” You argued indignantly. “I’ll have a vest and a gun, not to mention half the FBI as backup.”

“I don’t like the risk. There has to be another way,” he insists.

“Hotch, it’s the best we got,” Morgan tries to reason with him. 

“It’s fine. It’s the job. I can handle it,” you plead to your boss. He holds your eye contact for a moment, your hopefulness appearing to soften his steely gaze. 

“Go get a discrete comms for under your vest. You won’t be able to hear us but I need to be able to hear you to know if things are okay on the inside,” he relents, and you scamper off to prepare yourself. 

Once you’re ready, Hotch insists on walking you to the door of the compound.

“It’s very important that you don’t try to prove anything to him. If he asks you to sit with the other women, sit and acquiesce and attempt to negotiate subtly from there. And if he escalates, stand down. We are getting plenty just from your comms,” he counsels, placing a hand on your shoulder and taking care to look you in the eyes.

“I’ve got it, Hotch. I’m gonna be fine,” you nod.

“I’ll see you when it’s over, then.”

“See you, Hotch.” 

You step into the compound and walk down a long hallway before you make it to the room where the unsub is holding the hostages. 

You knock gently, opening the door and introducing yourself.

“A woman? From the FBI? Ridiculous,” he scoffs.

“I know, but the sooner you and I work things out the sooner I can get out of your hair,” you say sweetly.

“I’d sooner blow this place up than yield to one of you,” he sneers, and a look at the collar of his shirt reveals that he means it— you can see a few threatening wires coming through. 

“What do you need from me to avoid that? I’m happy to oblige anything I can.”

“How about you sit down and shut the hell up, and the FBI gets me a passport and a helicopter.”

There’s another knock at the door and you whip your head around. “This is supervisory special agent Aaron Hotchner, I just want to talk,” he says, swinging the door open. 

“Supervisory, huh? You sent the girl in?” 

“Not by choice,” he scoffs. 

You bite your tongue. It was true, you supposed, but you hadn’t expected him to tell the unsub that.

“And look what good it did you. These women, they get too big for their britches and they think they can start to question our god-given authority.” 

“It’s ridiculous, dealing with this one whining and complaining about my orders. She doesn’t belong here,” Hotch sympathizes.

You think you might throw up. You always liked Hotch, admired him, and you thought the two of you had a mutual respect. Thought.

“She’s a real spitfire, that bitch, thinking she’s good enough to be law enforcement. I bet she’s a real pain in the ass.”  The unsub continues.

“Don’t I know it. Always late, cares more about her outfits and her hair than her work. She ever should have made it to my department to begin with.” He snarls.

You’ve been late a couple times, yeah, but you didn’t think anyone had noticed. And sure, you liked to look nice, but who didn’t? And it never got in the way in the field. You take a deep breath, fighting to keep your emotions at bay.

“And she’s not a kept woman, I’m sure,” the unsub scoffed. 

“Of course not. It’s like you said, who’d want to keep a mouthy brat like her around.” He agrees.

While you want nothing more than for Hotch to turn around and cuff this guy so everyone can leave safely, you secretly hope you don’t make it out so that Hotch never sees that you’re crying. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction, the bastard. 

“Between the two of us, if you wanted to give the whore some long-overdue discipline, I’d be happy to turn and look the other way.”

“I don’t think she can be helped, but I suppose it couldn’t hurt, either,” Aaron rolls his eyes, crossing the room and grabbing you harshly by the shoulders. If he can tell that you’re crying, he ignores you. Burn in hell, Hotchner. He pulls you away from the other women. 

“My Glock is in my ankle holster. You need a clear shot to the thigh or the head,” he mutters as he drags you. It takes you a minute to put it together, but you nod once you realize. “You need to struggle so he’s distracted.” 

“Get off of me,” you protest, squirming against Hotch’s grip. His fingers dig into your skin and the tears continue to roll down your face. He slots his knee into the back of yours, toppling you off balance and into the ground. 

“Learn to be obedient, you dumb skank!” The unsub bellows, but Aaron’s body crouching over you  gives you enough cover to unsheath his gun and make a quick shot to the unsub’s thigh. 

He falls out of his chair and Hotch rushes to cuff him, while you work on freeing the hostages. You wipe your last tears away as you escort them out of the building— you had a job to do now, and whether or not your unit chief thought so, you were damn good at it. 

The rest of the team is waiting for you at the compound doors, and they help get the victims over to medical. Morgan moseys over to you as you help the last person in your group into an ambulance.

“Alright mama, your turn,” he says, taking you gently by the arm, and you just follow. Morgan tilts his head in surprise. “You okay? You must be hurting if you aren’t even going to put up a fight about medical,” he says as he lifts you onto a gurney. 

“I’m fine, Derek. Just do me a favor?” You ask as the paramedic begins his assessment.

“Whatever you need.” 

“Don’t let Hotch anywhere near me.” 

He’s a bit taken aback by the request. “Kiddo—“

“Derek, please,” you interrupt him before he can argue. 

“Alright,” he relents.

“You should be okay, miss,” the EMT says. “You’ve got a few bruises and you’ll probably feel pretty exhausted once the adrenaline wears off, but I don’t see any reason that you’d need to be admitted to the hospital unless you’re in any pain. Just rest should do it.” 

“Great, thank you,” you say, hopping off of the gurney. “Take me back to the hotel?” You asked Derek. 

He grits his teeth. “You go sit in the car. You don’t have to talk to him, but I need to let Hotch know that you’re okay before I take you back— I’m not facing his wrath if I don’t,” he explains with a wry smile.

A few hours later, you were tucking yourself in after a long, hot, tearful shower, Netflix on in the background and your laptop open in front of you. Your cursor hovered over the transfer request form as you chewed the inside of your cheek. A knock at the door— presumably the room service you’d ordered— distracts you from your dilemma. 

You swing the door open with a polite smile, and immediately crumple when you see all six feet and two inches of your unit chief standing in the hallway. 

“Respectfully, Hotch, I really don’t want to talk to you.” You tell him, attempting to close the door, but he blocks it.

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking you over. Suddenly you feel small in your ratty old sweatpants and college tee.

“I’m fine, but Morgan already told you that.” You remind him. 

“You’re not injured, but that doesn’t mean your okay.” He says, and he looks so concerned that it makes your blood boil. 

“Fuck off, Hotch. How dare you ask me that. Just go back to your room, I’ll finish my transfer application and we can both pretend I was never here,” you say, stepping away from the door and hoping he’ll get the message. He follows you in, instead.

“What?” He asks, shock and hurt in his tone. “You can’t transfer.” 

“You have a lot of nerve showing up at my door to begin with,” you continue. 

“I don’t understand,” he says, bewildered. 

“I get that I’m new here, but I really thought I was proving myself. And as my supervisor, I would have appreciated some feedback if you didn’t feel the same way,” you argued bitterly. 

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Maybe Emily was right when she said you don’t trust women as much as you trust men.”

“Is that what this is about?” He asks, and he almost laughs. You swear you could hit him.

“Of course it is! How could you say those things? Everyone says you’re such a hardass. I never believed them, and it turns out they were wrong. You’re worse. You’re cruel, you’re mean. Get out of my room.” You’re being loud, too loud, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean a word of that,” he implores. 

“Oh, sure,” you scoff. 

“It was a strategy. I had to empathize with him. You know that,” he reminds you, his tone begging you to believe him. 

“Even at that, why did it come so easily? Why were all of my worst qualities right at your fingertips? Why was it so easy for you to find reasons to discredit me?” You bite back. 

“It had nothing to do with you. All of that came straight from the unsub’s blog, Garcia found it after you went in.”

The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks. You could only let out a sheepish, surprised little “oh.” 

“You’re an exemplary agent. I wouldn’t have let you go in if I wasn’t certain of your abilities,” he says, putting both of his hands on your shoulders, staring at you to make sure you were looking at him too, to make sure you believed him.

You couldn’t, not yet. “Why’d you push back on me going in, then? Is it because I’m a girl?” 

“No.” He says resolutely. 

“Then what is it?” You goad him on. 

“It’s not that,” he says through gritted teeth, no longer able to look at you.

“Tell me why, then!” You exclaim. “Tell me.” 

“I didn’t want to send you in because I care for you. And because the thought of something happens to you scares me.” He admits, his voice only hairs above a whisper.

“Oh,” you gasp out. “Oh.”  It’s like all the air has left the room, and the two of you are suspended in time.

“I’m sorry. I know that’s inappropriate.”

“Hotch,” you start.

“If you still want to submit a transfer application, I understand. I’d be happy to write you a glowing recommendation.” 

“No,” you say, reaching out to take his hands in yours, taking three quick steps so your toes are practically touching. 

“No?” He asks trepidatiously, ducking his head closer to yours. 

“No,” you answer. “I think I’d like to stay right where I am.” 

“Thank god,” Aaron breathes against your lips before he kisses you. He wraps his arms around your waist and draws you in closer, and you curl your fingers into the cropped hair at the base of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry for thinking you could really believe those things.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry for not making it clearer how in awe I am of you constantly, as an agent and as a person. I am… wonderstruck by you, constantly, but I’ve done my best to hide it for the sake of professionalism. I’ve done too well, it seems.”

You shake your head. “You did what you thought was best. I couldn’t ever blame you for that.” 

He smirks. “Luckily for us both, I know better now,” he says as he leans back in to kiss you again.

taglist: @spacecowboyhotch @honeybrowne @call-me-mrsreid

@dadbodhotch11 @the-modernmary @angelfxllcm @rousethemouse @skyler666 @mintphoenix @gspenc @ashhotchner @wheelsupkels @infinite-tides @zetasaturno99 @itsmeiguessidk @ahouseforhermitcrab @catsofsmoke @silversighs

[nikethestatue]

I’ve just read a gw*riel point connecting Azriel being described as “cold” and “ice” to Gw*n saying the cold doesn’t bother her. They say it foreshadows their relationship and that Gwyn will be able to handle Azriel’s “cold” demeanor. The connection honestly makes sense and I rarely think that about that ship’s talking points. Just curious what your thoughts on it are? It makes me feel a little insecure about Elriel.

So I had to consult with my mutuals about this, because I absolutely did not remember when Gwyn said that she didn't feel the cold? The only thing we could come up with was in the POV -- that she was cutting the ribbon and when Azriel asked if she was cold, she said no, because she was exercising.

If that is the only 'evidence' then it's kind of...ridiculous?

Firstly, Azriel's 'coldness' is never a positive, or a natural thing. He forces himself to not feel anything. He forces himself to hide his rage, which is described as 'icy'. This is not his state of the state--this is his suffering. So (preposterous as this whole 'cold acceptance' thing is) Azriel doesn't need someone accepting him or leaving him in that state. He needs someone who would 'warm' him up. Someone who personifies Life, sunshine, warmth and care. The one person who feeds him, who cares for him, who notices him, who even bases her gifts to him on his moods and her observations. That's who 'thaws' him. He is miserable without that warmth that Elain offers him, and actually punishes himself by staying away from her.

You know what he himself knows and in fact says in the POV--that it was Elain who 'knows' him. This is canon text: Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days. 

Furthermore, as my bestie said '...(these) theories stretch the laws of physics. Sometimes talking about the cold just means it’s cold, Gretchen."

Gwyn's mention of the cold has nothing to do with 'acceptance' of Azriel. She was, you know, cutting the ribbon and it was keeping her warm. That's about it.

This is just...stretch stretchington McStretchy.

[moonjxsung]

STAR IM DEVASTATED so i have a priv twt acc right w some irls and this stay from stayville req-ed me a long time ago and i was soooo happy that i was mutuals w someone from stayville and i THOUGHT everything between us was cool? but today they unfollowed me and removed me as a follower and im devastated i dunno why they did that :((( i don't think they had a problem w me saying nsfw stuff cuz they previously tweeted things like "cancelling someone over saying smth nsfw abt an adult is stupid" and also ive seen them interact w nsfw minsung posts so i dunno if me tweeting smth like "i wanna suck flxs cock sooooo bad" couldve made them wanna break the mutual??? i dmed them too and i was like "heyy is there a reason you don't wanna be moots w me anymore </3" and not even minutes later they turned off their message perms and im devastated. its STUPID bcs they'd barely interact w me Sure but it felt nice to have a stay be my friend on my priv twt that's usually just for my irls and i </3 it's ironic that they did that too bcs just earlier today (before they broke the mutual) i noticed that my followers went down (i have a very low amt already. like. 25. not even joking) and i tweeted "yall dont wanan be friends w me anymore </3" bcs like. my followers are QUITE LITERALLY only my irls + a skz writer so i was (i think rightfully??) alarmed that the number went down!!!! man im just Sad about it and SIIIGH i know i shouldnt care so much bcs at the end of the day they're just a person online but the least they could've done was dm me back and explain why and GHFSDDSJHFKJADDSDSAAAAA you get me!?!! also im sorry i dropped this on you randomly feel free to ignore LMAAOOAOAO can i be 💫 anon? thank yew <3

(Adding 💫 to the anon list!!! Also fun fact that’s my favorite emoji of all time. Slay)

I feel like I’m the LAST person who should be giving advice abt this bc one of my mutuals and a very good friend of mine who I’d been talking to every day randomly blocked me on everything this week after me literally being there to console this person for every little thing and playing into this pretend homoerotic friendship we had even though she was clearly looking for another boyfriend and would get mad if I even called another girl pretty (???) I wish nothing but the absolute best for her but like…. The double standard is WILD. to not provide closure to a months-long friendship is just genuinely a very mean spirited thing to do imo.

(If she’s reading this, best of luck with everything and I hope you know I cared for you a lot more than you think I did. I distanced myself because you were clearly looking for someone to fill a void in your life that I could simply not fulfill, and I didn’t want to lead you on, nor be kept around like I wasn’t allowed to talk to other girls either. Regardless, I hope you know I used to sleep with my phone on full volume in case you called, and I deleted a page worth of poetry in my notes app for you I meant to deliver on your birthday. I also deleted your number so I have zero way of contacting you, but I will always be here if you need me. Take care and I love you always, I hope you still see me when you look up at the moon)

It’s not the first time I’ve lost an internet friend to the magical world of blocking, but fortunately the attitude I’ve developed towards it is that none of this is real!!! These are people on the internet miles away you’ve never met irl and they have no real impact in your life whether they remain following you or not. I’ve lost internet friends nearly a decade ago that I don’t even remember anymore. Better ones will come along!!! Especially stays! This fandom has so many beautiful remarkable people who are actually worth following and they wouldn’t cut you off like that. Sending so many positive vibes your way and I KNOW that the universe will send you some better mutuals. In the meanwhile I will be your internet bestie and I would never unfollow you for nsfw content or without some form of an explanation. And I also want to suck Felix’s dick. 🩷🫶

(I love you, don’t be so hard on yourself!!!! You’re wonderful, angel 🩷 anyone would be lucky to be moots with you)

[owen-wilson-appreciation-club]

Hello good folks. A (lengthy) update from me:

It does not take a genius to recognize that I have not been super active on this website. Almost no original posts, and mainly reblogs from my girl @wilsonbrothersupdates (love u bestie I log on just to chat with you)

I’ll be transparent. The Owen phase is dwindling. Not sure if the Loki show is gonna revive that, I will be watching for him and for him only (I am done with the MCU if I’m honest. That’s a discussion for another day but I’m here for Owen and Owen alone).

I am not deleting this blog. Like with many things, the phase may return full force, it may not. But I have so many positive memories associated with this community, this blog, and the people within it that I can’t get rid of it. But I think it’s fair for me to acknowledge that I’m distancing away from it.

I feel like I knew the end was coming, but it came without me noticing, and I’ve embraced that. Things happen. I watched my beloved Deadly Seven Owen Mutuals change their themes and their blogs to better represent their current interests. I could never do the same because this blog is solely for Owen, but it definitely reflects on my main account.

I will still forever be a fan of Owen. I’ll forever be a fan of Luke. I’ll forever cherish the crazy shit this blog brought me, from misinformation campaigns to inside jokes about the damn hole (seriously, what even was that? Makes me laugh even now)

If anything, I leave this blog up as an archive. Notoriously I am bad at tagging, but certain things on here can be found under tags like “hall of fame” and “thanks for sending!” as well as the usual thirst.

I’m not fully abandoning it. But I am acknowledging that I have pretty much closed up this chapter of my life. I’ll continue to reblog and post if something truly amazing happens, maybe the crew all comes together for inevitable Lokius (I am delusional. I still believe there is a chance.). I will also return if Hiddlewow reunites post strike. (Please give actors your support! Support SAG-AFTRA!!!)

I am not the same person I was when I started this blog over two years ago (Yes, it’s been that long). I’ve found joy in other aspects of my life, and I realize that there’s more to my own happiness than a 53 year old man with a funky nose.

This will forever be a part of me, for better or for worse, and I’m not forgetting the fun things that happened during the peak of this era. It’s tough for me to write this, to acknowledge that I haven’t been a very good leader of the Owen Wilson Appreciation Club. And while I refuse to give up that title, I will admit it’s been slow on my end.

I hope you all continue to watch Owen’s work, to support him in whatever fashion. I know I certainly will be. And while we won’t be as insane as before, there will always be that little part that keeps me here.

So yeah. If I stop posting, if I stop reblogging, know I’m okay. Know I’m happy and have found peace somewhere else. Know I love you all so much, and appreciate all the joy I’ve gotten over the years. The support has been immense, the interactions hilarious and memorable. I’ve met some incredible people on here (my discord people, you have my heart forever) I’ll leave the ask box open. I don’t expect anything to come in, but it’s there if you ever need to talk. Same with my DM’s.

I may come back full force someday. I hope to see you there. If not, take care. Thanks for everything.

All my love,

Sarah ❤️ (Forever your leader of the Owen Wilson Appreciation Club)

[evansbby]

in talks of other fandoms (and not a cod/ video games person myself)

BABE HAVE U CHECKED OUT THE RAFE CAMERON/OBX FANDOM?????

the best transition babe -amazing smut, but also like the best angst-y perv-y blurbs and series you’ll ever see. drew starley is HOT AS HELL I SWEAR and the girlies write him so good!!!

it’s also like HEAVY in the dd/lg vibes and pervert-y bsf or bffs bsf five. truly so good

if you’d like any refs to get started (cuz there are legit so many authors for this fandom and u do need to weed out the rly good ones sometimes- the activity i swear it’s literally at its peak lol) lemme knowww

obv we still love and are obsessed with sri- but in terms of engagement and stuff i know how much that feeling just suck and if you’d just like some lil fun- i rly recommend (can’t hide my ulterior motives that i want my favourite author on here to try out my favourite fandom currently because she’s the reason why i initially even stayed on tumblr) ❤️❤️

I see Rafe stuff on my dash all the time! A lot of my mutuals who used to be cevans girlies transitioned to rafe girlies bahaha, so whenever they like or reblog smth, it shows up on my dash!

But tbh, and I’ve said this on here before, Rafe lowkey annoys me and that interferes with my ability to find him hot 😭😭 it’s the writing of the Rafe character that annoys me bc when I watched obx, I fully expected him to be the hot troubled older brother which he IS but they gave him ZERO romantic storyline! They teased us with the Kiara thing but never followed through with it and that show annoys me bc it had so much romance and angst potential but they chose to focus on the treasure hunting wHICH NO ONE CARES ABOUT AND IT GETS OLD AFTER THREE STRAIGHT SEASONS LIKE BITCH I DO NOT CARE ABOUT BLACK BEARD TREASURE CAN YOU JUST GIVE ME RELATIONSHIP DRAMA AND RAFE KIARA ENEMIES TO LOVERS?? like send these kids to college fr!!!

Anyways Rafe is such a wasted opportunity of a character bc genuinely Drew Starkey is so hot AND he can act and clearly has a huge fanbase and yet his character is being wasted bc literally when I watch a show, most of the time all I care about is romance bc I’m just a girl 😭😭😭

But anyways, the fact that his character is so annoying on the show makes me not be able to read fanfics about him or take them seriously 😭😭 like I just cannot suspend my disbelief bc the show gives us NOTHING. NOTHING AT ALL. So if I ever start reading a Rafe fic, my mind will just substitute Rafe for Ari tbh 😂😂😭😭 like automatically.

And I’m sorry bestie, but for that reason I cannot write for Rafe either 😭😭 but the Rafe fandom does not need me, they have plenty of writers writing juicy fics for him and yeah I agree it’s all very dd/lg centric and nasty fucking smut centric and I WISH I COULD ENJOY THAT but I guess you should blame the obx show writers for that

[fcb-mv33]

Hi.

So i got a tip that you are apparently talking about me and that apparently you claim that i come onto your blog trough anon asks. I found all of that interesting, considering i had to unblock you to write this.

Does that mean you have another blog just to read my stuff??? I didn't know you were a fan. Was it you that came onto my blog yesterday to defend kelly?? Are you really a fan of someone if you are ok with them doing something wrong??

P.s

I don't use anon. This blog already is anon. It's not connected to my real life.

Also to the maxiemoomo what ever the blog is, i never said Max is braking his mamas heart i said that i would ask him is he considering he didn't spend his vacation with her even after she expressed her wishes to do so.

it's fine to leave out the entire context, apparently??

I get sent stuff from my mutuals since the majority of them are constantly seeing your hate posted into the max tag. I actually never mentioned your blog and since you have me blocked that means you can still check out my blog plus your mutuals sent you my posts so let’s not try and play who’s spying on who.

I think your posts over the last few days are literally ridiculous and embarrassing. Calling Max out for posting a picture of his gf and now all of a sudden you can’t follow him seems like you were just looking for an excuse to drop him and now are actively involved in the MV00 girlies and anti Max fans circle so good for you. I don’t care one little bit about Kelly because I follwo Max, literally just Max. Unlike you I don’t dedicate my blog to posting constant Max towards Max for his personal life (whihc ps is non of our business). He’s done nothing wrong in posting that photo, we don’t know anything about Max past what he’s shown us and he has never shown any sort or nastiest or vile behavior you seem to think he shares with her because Max is his own man. My interest is just in Max which is why I find the hate you have been posting towards him vile considering how much abuse he already gets so that’s why I called it out.

You say Sophie expressed interest in going on holidays with Max..are you besties with Sophie? Or can you read minds? Max spent the Spa week with his family including Sophie so why you feel the need to make these comments about a family who you will never know is just weird. You post all this shit in the Max tag for us to see and then (like the past experiences I’ve had with you) you call out Max fans for not constantly turing their blog into a gossip sight and post pics of Max and his gf. You have put max blogs on here through shit with your followers, posting the blog and their posts, calling them out for not obsessing over wags like you do.

So you can re-block now because I’m still going to be a max fan :)

[yomiurinikei]

tsurugi for the ask meme?

god the cws for this damn boy. uhh neglect and also i can’t see kinjomae as healthy w/what happens in the game and that’s discussed so. yeas

- My identity hc for them

gay little beast. he and kouhei had Something going on btw. anyways i also hc him as trans, it’s not one of those things i feel could actually fit into canon. but idgaf!! to me he is trans because i’m trans and so is my boyfriend (do u know him?) and every cool person is trans. tsurugi isn’t cool but i think he deserves a win once so he can have one in the form of getting to be trans!!!

- Thoughts on their home life/family

ogh. im using this bullet point as a chance to talk about stuff i’m not otherwise able to/which i don’t think i’ve shared? but like. agh…. how can anyone put into words literally anything about this little worms life. my hc for his mom is currently that she walked out when tsurugi was fairly young and isn’t interested in. any of it, so it’s just him and juu? so i think tsurugi started being left home alone Very Early, and going with his dad to work was like.. a nice treat away from being by himself for the majority of the day. which probably helped contribute to tsurugis entire identity and existence and everything revolving around his work as a police officer. aaaaaaa.

- How i feel about their canonical writing/handling

i don’t like what linuj did to him in sdra2 because amidst all the other controversies that arose with that game it really just felt lazy and like icky stereotypes. there was better ways to handle a tsurugi who had gotten worse/wasn’t doing well/etc past what happened in sdra2. i don’t like it and it doesn’t feel accurate to what should have happened if we were going to go the route of “tsurugi didn’t magically decide to go to therapy and heal”. i completely understand that people and especially fictional characters can get worse and have negative character development. but it’s the way in which tsurugi acted that felt lazy and ooc to me.

so anyways to retreat into the dark recesses of my brain. he’s so scrunkle… wet dish rag i am wringing all the water out of. i like him in dra i like the narrative role he plays i honestly think he’s v fun. i’ve waxed poetic before (not publicly i think? not about the thing i’m thinking of rn) about the tragedy of what happens to him and how u can read things as all being set up to screw boy over. but it’s just very interesting. i want to squeeze him so bad.

- The one thing i’d want to make canon about them

he and kouhei had frequent sleepovers at kouheis place. i don’t CARE if it doesn’t fit with tsurugis childhood i think kouheis parents were nice to him and cared about him. overall i just think all my thoughts on kouhei and tsurugi should be made canon. i should write a fic…

- My number one favorite ship for them

mmmm… right now it’s tsuhiko but all of the chatting about kouhei makes me wanna say tsuruhei. tbh i’m very versatile in who i ship tsurugi with i think he fits well with a lot of people (in non despair) and so long as there’s someone by his side i don’t really care who it is or if he holds hands with them or not.

- …Now everyone else i ship with them

mmm. kinji obviously, i still like teruya w/tsurugi in some aus, yamato but i’ll be honest i’m kinda weird about them. i think they’re separated. not divorced but separated. but also they’ve never dated they’re just besties. but also they have the most tender interactions. not to use this line but i think they should just have a weird very queer coded friendship where they both Know what the underlying vibe is and both choose to not broach the subject of how charged things are.

- The thing i will NEVER ship

tsurugi undeniably had feelings for yuki and while u can argue about how authentic yukis feelings were (ie were they just there to incentivize him to get closer so as to further damage tsurugi) it was definitely mutual. just again. how Real things were for yuki depends on how separate u view him from utsuro. uhhhhhhm. but just because feelings were there doesn’t mean it’d be good or healthy for them to date !. 

- a dynamic/relationship i wish was explored more (in canon, or in fandom)

on my hands and knees fucking begging u all for more kouhei. if i make a p2 of my kouhei hcs will that be enough propaganda. what do u all want from me. uhhh also if there’s one thing i miss from old sdra fandom days it’s tsurugi + kizuna worsties content.

- thoughts on their design (appearance-wise)

ah… i definitely prefer his dra color palette over his sdra2 one but that could be because something about his look in sdra2 just feels very off to me. that in mind i fucking hate his pants why are they that shade of blue linuj get off ur knees for that shade of blue. it’s too fucking bright it stands out so much. anyways i understand the uniform but i’d like to see him in like… maybe smthn professional/more formal, but not? the dress shirt and tie. 

- A music-related thought- a song that reminds me of them, or what their music taste is, etc

oh god oh fuck if i don’t find a good song this is going to be. so miserable for me and i will get cyber bullied again. uhhh. wires - the neighborhood bc lol make sure u tell him the right wire to cut tsurugi! don’t fuck it up lol! haha it can’t be that hard surely this is the same as all the other bomb diffusals right? right tsurugi? im the ceo of intentionally misinterpreting songs to fit my vision. mkay that’ll work. damn i need to listen to more music before i go do more ask memes

[pianostarinwonderland]

uhhh so 🤡 this isn’t my usual post. Actually in fact, it’s not even twst related, it’s irl related. I don’t usually like to use this blog for personal matters since I really dedicate this blog to Twst (and Azul). In fact, the most personal I’ve been are either the very few rants I have or wet soppy letters to Azul and those are all still related to Twst. But I don’t really feel like I have a proper space to share this, and it’s one of those things that I feel bad for sharing in a private friend gc.

It’s a long boi so I’m keeping it under the cut. Friends, feel free to message me if you want. Followers, well the most you’ll get out of this is a long diary entry and a snippet of why I’m not as active on the blog as before lol

Anyway so this has been on my mind for a while 🤡 as in, this has been taking up a lot of my energy

I know that it’s possible to be happy without a romantic relationship. I love all the friendships I have, and my best days are always when I’m around friends. I’m learning about the hobbies and activities that make me happy, and I’ve been really thinking about how to make my life fulfilling while I don’t go too broke doing it lmfao

But God. 🤡 It still doesn’t stop me from craving a romantic relationship so badly

Mainly the reason why I don’t choose to share this in any of my friend spaces is because I expect at least one of them to say “but you can live happily with platonic relationships”. Which is true! Again, my happiest times have always been with friends and I love them. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to love and to be loved in that special way 😭

I’ve been really :// about my love life honestly. Like, ok I was not very outgoing in high school, and I was friends with people who didn’t really care about getting a boyfriend and shit like that. It’s only very recently that I’ve been more social. So yea it definitely makes sense that I never dated anyone

But still, knowing that most of my friends are either in a relationship, in the process of getting into one, or have been in one before but broke up 🥺 it’s like.. they’ve all at least met people who felt something for them mutually. They’ve all enjoyed that romance

And part of me is a bit jealous of that. In fact, when I told friends that I’ve never dated, I’ve gotten gasps because they couldn’t believe I never dated anyone. 😂😂😂

It really doesn’t help that my two sisters have really healthy relationships. One of them, married. The other, still boyfriend and girlfriend but they get along so well. And honest to God, being surrounded by that in the household just makes me feel a bit dejected because fucking shit I want that !!!! Why don’t I have that !!!

At the same time, I don’t wanna get into a relationship for the sake of one. Honestly a big part of why I feel this way is because I don’t really have a best friend 🥹 irl speaking of course. My few besties are all online and I love them to death but God, I want irl besties too. And I want my romantic relationship to be like that too. Just us goofing off, except that I can kiss him at the end of the day.

I can feel myself breaking though in the sense that shit I might one day wake up, say fuck it, and open a Tinder just to satisfy the short term desire for a relationship. I don’t want that for myself because I want to be critical of my relationships. I don’t want a shitty friendship, so why should I want a shitty relationship?

But still I’ve had days that I woke up feeling like that. And it’s really frustrating,,

Pls I’ve also hit points during this year where I thought maybe I should just give up on my love life. The few times I’ve confessed to people, I’ve gotten rejected. One of them even ghosted me 🥲😭 and it’s taken me months to mentally recover from it because I’ve never been ghosted like that (and he was a friend too, so that sucked ass). Right now, I like two guys irl, and now I’m talking to them a bit more often as friends, but I always have that reminder at the back of my head to keep a fair distance because if not, I might jump to confess and next thing I know, I lose friends again because I got vulnerable 🥹🥹🥹

Literally, my anthem right now is Fifty Fifty’s Cupid. I know that romantic relationships are messy, and I know that friendships are already great enough. But I still desire to be loved, I desire to love. I know it’s a waiting game, but I also don’t want to just wait for it. I want to take the opportunities that I can take.

Pls it’s also so funny, I’ve been giving relationship advice and emotional support to some friends, some of which Are in a relationship. I say all my words with a smile but deep inside, I’m like god. Why am I saying all this as if I’ve ever been in a relationship. Why are people even turning to me for this help lol but ok at least i look like i know what to do in a relationship LMAO

So haha anyway LOLLLL my first and hopefully last life update on the blog, I’ll delete it who knows when. But thank you for reading if you made it to this point 😭 and don’t worry too much about me! I’ll be better for sure. Just one of those days that I’m thinking about it hehe

[a-model-of-propriety]

Seph Seph Seph! I know we haven’t spoken in a while but my one-letter-away mutual asked for writing prompts, so would you mind doing some fluffy Hensa stuff!

Hi Soph!! tysm for the prompt bestie <333

—

Jekyll looked up as the door clicked shut.

“Success?” he asked Lisa.

“Yep,” she said. “It’s taking longer and longer ever since Creechur started talking — always asking questions, nowadays — but he settled down without too much trouble tonight.”

“I’m glad. To be honest, I still can’t believe how quickly he’s learning.”

“Me neither. And he’s already learning how to read, can you believe that?”

“He is?” Jekyll asked. “I hadn’t heard about that part.”

“We started working on it the other day. Before too long he’ll be a regular bookworm, mark my words.”

Jekyll chuckled. “I don’t doubt that.”

Both he and Lisa fell into comfortable silence as they got ready for bed. Only once they were both sitting up in bed, winding down for the night, did Jekyll continue their conversation.

“I’ve never understood how you and Creechur bonded so quickly,” he commented. “I mean, he’s a sweet… kid? but I still haven’t gotten used to suddenly seeing him around the house. But you don’t seem fazed by his appearance at all!”

Lisa set down her book on the nightstand and turned towards him. “Well, I definitely had to adjust to taking care of him,” she said thoughtfully. “You know that better than anyone. But honestly? It wasn’t all that different than getting used to Edward.”

“Really?”

Lisa nodded. “I don’t think you realize it — after all, you’ve got a rather different perspective than me — but Edward’s appearance can be pretty unsettling. I chalk it up to the ‘uncanny valley’ effect due to him being, well, not quite human. When Victor and Creechur first started staying with us, I just told myself ‘if I could get used to Edward, I can get used to him.’ And, well, here we are!”

She turned around to retrieve her book and resume her reading as Jekyll settled into a more comfortable sleeping position. He hadn’t noticed any of that before, but now that she mentioned it, it made sense that she became so close to Creechur. In any case, he was just grateful he didn’t have to take care of him and Victor on his own.

[swervestrickland]

You know what?? You're right, I take back what I said about being biased bc Punk's Buckshot was sloppy at best. I noticed it didn't connect with Silver too. And I get that it's not Punk's usual move, so it's GONNA be sloppy, but like...if you're gonna use someone else's move to be a petty bitch, then maybe practice it a little more??

And don't get me wrong, I love Punk, loved him since I first saw his long haired, lip ring having ass in wwe, but rn I am a Hangman Adam Page stan first and foremost 😤

god so true bestie!!!! go off!!

as much as I love cm punk, in kayfabe it’s gonna be us and hangy against the best in the world baby!!!!! i WILL be booing pepsi dilf punk 😌

okay but while I have you here, I would like to talk to everyone about what exactly has been going on with cm punk since he started. let’s take a look at his key matches:

• Darby Allin, Eddie Kingston, MJF

and now, Hangman Adam Page.

something that I like about the way his feud with Hangman has been going, is that Hangman is the Only One of these men that HASN’T admitted to Punk being his idol. Yes, even Eddie admitted this in that bomb ass promo he had in the ring with Punk.

I think it’s important to note that, because Hangman has almost never come out and said who his idols are. I believe I’ve heard him name a few much older names in interviews, and then as well, the Hardy Boys. But in kayfabe? Not a one, as far as AEW goes (I don’t know about before then).

And I think that’s something that deep down, maybe Punk actually Does kind of, care about? A little bit? With Darby it was mutual respect, with Eddie it was No Respect, and with MJF it was respect that corrupted into hatred.

So as much as Punk thinks he’s in Hangman’s head (as he said on commentary Wednesday night, “I’m in his head! I’ve got him right where I want him!”), I think it’s important to give a little credit to Hangman, because he’s the one person who’s decided I don’t give a shit about CM Punk either way, I’m just here to win a match and fuck that guy I guess. He decided the best course of action with a guy like Punk was to let him know, listen, I don’t care who you think you are, best in the world, etc, what’s important is I will beat you. In the ring. And yeah, it’s a bit risky. The cowboy is a risky kinda guy but perhaps this was an insight into him trying to, I dunno, do things a little differently than everybody else.

Or maybe he’s just lying to himself again in order to make it through this challenge, idk. Maybe if he doesn’t acknowledge Punk for who he is (to himself and everyone else), then perhaps that makes him Not That, and therefore, easier to put down in the end.

[emzalot]

@staff , bestie…I need you to do something about these shotty notifications on the mobile app because every time one of my mutuals is in crisis they just happen to shut off, like…that’s not very nice dude. I gotta be there to support my bestie and I’ve got adhd dude so how am I suppose to remember that I’m waiting for them to respond when I’ve got the memory recall of a God blessed bee— did you know that bees have a memory recall length of 2.5 seconds? It’s fascinating, really, but anyways if I don’t get that little *ding* to remind me that I’m having a whole conversation with someone then I just feel real bad coming back on here 6 hours later to see that they sent me a message and I never got back to them. It’s not cool, like, what if they think I don’t care about what’s going on with them and I’m ignoring them, which isn’t the case I just didnt get the *ding* and therefore my lack of object permanence goes in for the win and I completely forget that I’m talking to them and leave them hanging for several hours.

But anyways yeah I know I’m not the only one who deals with the shotty notifications but if there’s nothing to be done about it don’t worry about it we can just chock it up to one of the many things that gives tumblr it’s charm.

[saetoru]

hey tee, can i ask something? so ik how frustrating it can be when anons send hate, but what’s it like when other blogs do it?? how do you handle it?? & i dont mean when they’re like directly talking to you, but subtweeting in a way…am i explaining this well????? idk but something that i hate is when people will just ask & ask & ask you to write as if you’re a machine & not a human being.

there’s a particular account that never writes (which is completely fine), and they always ask everyone to be patient & etc. but they constantly talk abt how “no one writes like they used to” or just complain abt other people’s writing in general & it’s just so sad to see bc as a creator on this app, they should immediately understand tht people are not fucking machines & struggle with writer’s block & stuff like that. she just gives off big hypocritical vibes. idk if you’re mutuals w/ them or not (hopefully not).

her writing is fine, but as a person… idk. im not gonna say who it is, but they’re pretty known on tumblr. it really bugs me when she says stuff like that and then her followers just back her up like nothing’s wrong. generally speaking, i believe u can say whatever tf u want on your own blog, but some of the stuff she says just really upsets me, especially since im starting to write on tumblr. i have blocked her, but after seeing some the things she’s said, plus the amount of people that agree with her is making me real self conscious abt my work.

so yea, how do u feel when stuff like that happens to you?? im so sry for the long ask, but hopefully you can take the time to respond. it would mean a lot! ❤️

hi bestie !! i will answer under the cut:

i just block lmao. like deadass half of a lot writers on here ??? chances are i’ve blocked them and tbh that might sound bad but if i see a discourse or a “hot take” that i fully disagree with, or rubs me wrong, i block. and that’s bc i think all of us as writers, even if it’s the smallest part of our brains, compare ourselves to other writers. so i block writers that give me bad vibes bc i don’t wanna subconsciously start comparing myself to them in a manner that makes me question myself like you said. if a writer thinks majority of fanfic mostly sucks now, well i guess they’re not reading my sucky content bc they are b l o c k e d !!!

i actually have like two or three very strongly voiced ppl blocked that always say “fanfic isn’t what it used to be” or “all fanfic is the same now” and i think personally it’s a really entitled and annoying thing to say. if someone came into a writer’s inbox and said those exact things on anon, everyone would jump to attack that anon and say “it’s free content be grateful.” i don’t think someone being a writer gives them the right to dictate such strong opinions openly about other peoples fanfic writing styles/methods/choices. even if you provide content, you’re still consuming free content just as everyone else. it’s one thing to politely offer advice as one writer to another with good intentions, but that’s very clearly seen in your tone and how you word the message. if you think fanfic isnt what it used to be, then write what you want to see ??? it’s simple.

so yeah either way i would block that individual—maybe i already have them blocked too who knows LMAO i hope i do. but i wouldn’t let it get to you because tbh in my experience ppl who have the most to say about other writers have the emptiest masterlists 💀 the rest of us are too busy focusing on our writing to care about what other people are posting and whatnot. block them, block their friends that agree, block anyone else that agrees with them. LMAO i’m not saying this to act like “ur always right and everyone else is always wrong” but tbh if u just block all the ppl ur disagree with, then at one point ur dash will just be peaceful

take it from me !! the girlie that is blocked by like 75% of this app !! just remove people you don’t wanna see. filter their urls, unfollow ppl they heavily interact with, curate ur own experience without being a bitch. rant to ur friends, get it off ur chest privately but like don’t subpost them in a rly obvious manner and start more drama bc it’s just always gonna be a mess that way.

and tbh there’s a lot of things that ppl in a fandom community can and should come and discuss in a civil manner without peoples feelings getting hurt like meta and popularly flawed characterization patterns, but i think bitching about the “quality” of fanfic is a rly nasty thing to openly complain about bc it’s just unwarranted and discouraging. a lot of people are on here for fun, not to write new york times best selling novels, so just let them have their fun :/

[pxppinmolly-archived]

YES I DID IT... AN EVEN NUMBER!

But anyway onto like. A serious matter? Post? I guess.

Because I was thinkin’ back when I made a 400 follow forever, and then iirc I think a 500 follow forever? or something. idr. i know i did 2 follow forevers

and i dont think ill be doing any of those anytime soon again LOL

Being in this rpc since like... It’s very start. Watching things change, people come, go, make the bad relationships I did, get the never ending harassment I’ve gotten

STILL HERE, BABY.

With still a fresh coat of paint and having taken out some skeletons and garbage in my followers list not too long ago.

It’s been a little lonely, not gonna lie. I’ve really felt kinda.. I dunno. Uninspired? Lately, due to having such little mutuals now, or least active ones, and not really getting a lot of things going or worth note of attention.

But! Lately, honestly. I am following my own advice in thinking about the mutuals and besties I do have! Like, you know. I am so happy to have the people here that I do. People I can trust and feel safe with, who are genuinely interested in me and Molly and indulge me every now and again.

While my dash hasn’t been as active as it used to be, it does feel so much more cozy. Comfy.

Going forward with the changes I’ve made, and the things I wanna do, and finally opening myself up to new people as I am healing over the tremendous amount of times I’ve been burned and hurt before in this rpc ... It’s nice.

I really feel like a phoenix with this blog, yk? I may have burned things in the flames but I am arising into something new and growing optimism and healing!!

Even if I do still be getting the random hate, death threats, and people talking behind my back about me.. I don’t really care! I haven’t for awhile, anyway. Again I found the anon hate funny more often than not. I only worry that people will form pre judged opinions on me because of some people, but, then again, if someone wants to judge me based on word alone and thus is also buddy buddy w someone who doesn’t like me, why would I want to interact with them anyway?

But anyway. YEAH. Just rambling.

Thank you everyone who has been with me for this long, who has been here in my many downs and my ups, who have been nothing but supportive and just so warm and welcoming. And thank you to everyone who I may have just recently met and became mutuals with, for giving me a chance and showing interest with me and my silly liddle spider! :)