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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

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#4 Trying to buy a new couch, with modern!Pero?

I am so sorry that this has taken so long but here he is in all his soft family man glory!

Warning: Mentions of having children and Tovar with his goddamn breeding kink (he totally has one!) Language and smut so minors, please back off now!

As you walk in through the door, the golden hour has hit, making your hallway burn brightly in the evening light. After shouting a mostly ignored hello, you throw your keys in the pot on the window ledge, kicking off your shoes and dropping your handbag by the door in the cataclysmic dump of school bags and other belongings of your family.

Sticking your head around the front room door, you find your three kids wrestling each other for the best spots on your battered old sofa- stained with spilled drinks and encrusted with child love. A sofa that had originally been bought for two to snuggle upon and now had to squish five ample bottoms. Your kids mostly ignore your presence and wish for them to stop killing each other quite so violently, so you leave them to it - survival of the fittest after all.

Turning into the kitchen, you find a large glass of rioja awaiting you on the table and the heady aroma of garlic, onions, chorizo and red peppers wafting through the air. The mess of dark curls and broad back that constitutes your husband are hunched over your range cooker, preparing what smells like his mother’s paella recipe - a labour of love, sweat and tears, if Pero’s face is anything to go by. Walking over to stand near enough to bump him with your hip, glass in hand, he becomes more aware of your presence.

“¿Cómo estás, mi alma?” your husband softly growls in your ear as he wraps you in his arms and kisses your forehead.

“Todo lo mejor para verte,” All the better for seeing you- you nuzzle into his chest, the worries of your work day evaporating with his touch.

The animated voices from the other room seem to be building to a boiling point - Pero and you share a look, both refusing to entertain what might be taking place in the other room.

“They’ve been like this since I picked them up from school,” Pero huffs irritatedly, turning back to dramatically add the chicken and tomatoes into the pan, “It’s mainly Cici and Maxí trying to outdo each other whilst Javi just wants them both to leave him alone. So, I ran away, to here.”

“Excellent thinking - it’s better for us to hide, drinking good wine. Let’s not fight in some other man’s war,” you laugh, raising your glass.

“Salud!” your husband clinks his glass in total agreement, before taking a large gulp.

CRASH!

You both hold your breath, awaiting tears or screams. When neither arrives, you charge into the living room - half expecting broken bodies - to find three pairs of wide eyes and an utterly destroyed sofa.

“What have you done?!” you growl, eyes flashing at your three - free-to-good-homes- kids as a wave of irritation washes through you.

“Mamí, Papí - I’m so sorry,” Javier’s puppy dog eyes fill with tears.

“Was this you, Javi?” you hear his father ask him calmly, entirely confident that it was not the doing of your eldest boy.

“No, I was just trying to watch the cartoons but Maxí and Cici were arguing over where they wanted to sit and Maxí kept taking up all of the sofa so Cici couldn’t sit down and then Cici body dropped Maxí and that’s when the sofa broke,” the words spat forth from Javi’s mouth in a tearful and snotty machine gun fire.

“Urgh, you’re such a tattletale,” Cici grumbles, rolling her eyes at her oldest brother as she wallops him on the arm.

“Well, I didn’t do it,” Maxí unconvincingly whines to his audience, “I was just sitting on the sofa and then she smashed it and she hurt me!”

“Gah! Kids, will you stop being so hideous to each other and stop treating this house like it’s a WWE arena,” you thunder at the end of your tether, “I have had it up to here with the lot of you!”

Spinning your hip towards the door before you murder any of the children, Pero kisses your forehead before lowly whispering, “Remember, we broke a sofa,” his eyebrow cocks in amusement, “Go take over dinner, I will sort out these payasitos Little clowns.”

Walking away from the destroyed living room and the sound of Pero attempting to broker peace between the warring nations of your household, you head into the kitchen and immediately top up your glass as you stir the calamari and mussels into the paella. Surprisingly quickly, a quiet falls upon the bickering and your husband rejoins you by the cooker.

“Did you murder them?” you ask into the bowl of the wine glass.

“Not this time. Just telling them the story of how we broke your mother’s sofa,” he nuzzles into your neck as you spray wine across dinner.

Whipping around in his arms with the spatula pointing up at him, you squeak, “Pero!”

“Señora, put down your sword. And the wine is meant to be poured in, not spat in,” he teasingly smiles at you before pulling your hips into his, “Relájate, mi amor Relax my love, I told them the same story we told your mother. The dog broke it when we were playing with her.”

As Pero wipes the red wine stain from your lip with the tip of his calloused thumb, you cannot help but giggle at the memory of the horrendous explanation you’d given your mum roughly nine years earlier as to how her sofa had broken when Pero and you had been pet-sitting her now pretty elderly newfoundland. How the three of you had been playing rough and tumble together, rolling around causing the sofa to give up the ghost. It was entirely questionable whether she’d ever bought the excuse and anyway, she was utterly delighted with Javier’s arrival roughly nine months later.

Pulling apart from Pero’s kisses when you notice three small sheepish faces joining you in the kitchen with a plethora of pictures. Before you have a chance to examine the artworks, Cici speaks up first, “I am sorry Mami for breaking the sofa when I elbow dropped Maxi.”

“Thank you for apologising, muñequita dolly,” you smile, pulling your youngest into your arms, “So, chiquitos little ones, what have you been drawing?”

“Papi told us to draw our dream sofa so that when you choose one, we all have a say,” Javier explained, “I want one where we all have our own section, and on my bit, I want Abuelita’s crochet throw.” Javi points out his section and the dark colours of his granny’s crochet that she made for his birth. His section is the furthest away from his brother and sister’s sections but right next to his dad’s. The bond between the pair of them never ceases to amaze you, right from the moment Pero first held Javi in his arms and your gruff, grumpy Spaniard had sobbed into his newborn son’s dark, downy curls.

“Okay, that’s within the realms of reality- I like this idea, mijo.”

Ushered forward by his father, Maxi pushes his picture under your nose - the first thing you notice is the dark colour he has chosen, “This looks comfy but why have you chosen such a dark colour, querido?”

“To hide the blood of my brother and sister when I fight them and win.”

“Terrifyingly logical as ever Maxi,” your eyes widen, catching Pero’s eyes, sending him a silent what the fuck.

“And you, muñequita? What did you draw?” Pero takes your daughter’s picture, squinting at the swirls and patterns.

“Helicopter. I don’t want a sofa, I want a helicopter,” Cici is firm in her stance that her family does not need anywhere comfortable to relax.

“Okay, Cici-cielo, I don’t think we can afford a helicopter but Mami and I will look tonight, si?”

✪✪✪✪✪

Not having a working sofa to crash out on post-putting the kids to bed, you are sprawled out across the bed you share with Pero, on your tummy with the iPad in front of you flicking through pages and pages of sofas. One after the other - all trying to sell you a picture of how family life should be with children who behave themselves and parents who don’t swear in front of them. That’s just not your tumble-up family of awkward misfits and messy monsters.

You feel the end of the bed depressing with the weight of your husband added to it. Little kisses are pressed up the back of your calves, and your thighs until Pero reaches your bottom. Nudging and kissing each cheek, he suddenly bites your right side before quickly drawing his body up the length of yours.

“Oi!” you squeal with as much breath as you can muster with your husband’s full weight upon your body.

A large, calloused hand claps suddenly around your mouth, “Shhh, mamacita, we do not want little people joining us with their stories of tao tei under their beds.”

“Gerroff then, pendejo,” you groan through his fingers, “Wanna have a look at the finalists of the not completely shit sofas?”

“No,”comes the grumpy reply from Pero as he rolls off you and onto his side of the bed as you budge up.

“C’mon viejo, we have to choose something quickly so we can sit somewhere comfortably.”

“I am very comfortable, hermosa,” Pero settles on his back, his once sharp chin slightly doubled by his positioning on the pillow, eyes heavily hooded as his arms fold across his body.

Raising your eyebrow and pouting at your husband’s lack of willingness to check out new seating arrangements, you push the iPad onto your bedside table before straddling Pero - grabbing his hands, pinning them above his head.

Pero’s initial wide-eyed shock gives way to amusement, “Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish, mi corazón.”

“Look at the bloody sofas, pendejo, or we will have the kids in here all the time as where else in the house do we have somewhere to sit and watch TV?” You growl pointing over your shoulder at the tv Pero had demanded to put up so that he had somewhere to watch telenovelas sport in peace.

“But they always look good online - we don’t know how they’d be in real life,” Pero sulks through his thick eyelashes.

“Fine, there’s another option - we go to..”

“No querida, don’t say it…”

“Ikea.”

Pero rolls you back onto the bed before burying his face into your breasts and with a muffled groan whines, “Please no. They will destroy things, each other and us. I love you, but I am not sure our marriage or family will survive another trip to Ikea.”

“How do you imagine that we get a new one, then?” You question, stroking his dark curls and massaging his scalp as he rests against your chest.

“No lo sé, mi amor,” the sigh of defeat echoes through his words as his lips twitch gently against your sensitive flesh, “I guess, we should go to sleep now and hope that we do not awake in the morning, si?”

“Such a cheerful Charlie, Tovar,” you tease your grump of a husband, “If you’re a good boy and don’t moan too much, I might treat you to some meatballs and apple cake.”

“I’ll need more than that, princesa,” Pero nuzzles higher, pressing kisses into your collarbones and neck.

As Pero rests his chin on your sternum, you stroke the olive toned, scarred skin of his face. Your friends had initially thought him intimidating when you’d met in a club in Sevilla all those years ago. Neither of you wanted to be there - he was there for his best friend, William's stag do - you were there trying to make friends on your year abroad as a part of your degree in Spanish. Liking being there or not, the two of you had almost come to blows on the dance floor when Pero accused you of treading on his foot, giving you a good shove to move you away. When you’d shoved him back, the thunderous face had cracked with a grin and you’d seen the sheer handsome beauty of your assailant.

He’d spent the rest of the night seemingly glaring at you from his table but as you’d gone to say goodbye to part of your group who’d decided to stay until kick out, he’d strode over, spun you towards him and kissed you, causing a drunken cheer to go up from his friends as well as yours. When the kiss drew to an end, the two of you pulled apart - utterly shocked at how perfectly your lips had fitted. How drunk you were, not on alcohol but rather the taste of each other.

You’d not expected much giving him your number but he rang you the next day. Two days later, you went on a date that never quite ended and now a decade and a half later and you’re still inextricably entangled with each other. Your friends now understand that behind the ferocious glare and deep set scars, there is a huge heart of gold.

Now that streaks of wisdom line the hair on your head and pepper the moustache on his face, that experience has pressed its stories around your eyes and across your brow - you love him more than ever.

He continues the onslaught of kisses up from the base of your neck until his lips reach yours. The little nudge he gives your nose with his. The way he threads his fingers into your hair and stares deep into your soul, the flecks of amber that set fire to the coal of his eyes.

“More how, Pero?”

Rather than answer, your taciturn Spaniard deepens his kiss. Sinking back down again to suck marks into your skin as a growl grows within his chest - the tension at the thought of a family trip to IKEA building to a boiling point. You can’t help but stifle a giggle at his response.

“Querida, do you laugh at me?” Pero asks as he allows his teeth to graze your skin before nipping at the softness of your tummy. What was once a flat, unblemished surface, now a map of tiger stripes and dimples but how this wonderful man makes you feel even sexier and confident than that 21 year old he first met.

“A little, mi amor - you’re such a grump but I like the way you’re working through it right now,” you chuckle as he starts to kiss your lower tummy and thighs.

“Mmm, this is my therapy - can’t be grumpy right here,” Pero tugs at the elastic of your pyjama bottoms as you take the not so subtle hint to lift your hips, “The smell and taste of you is always the best medicine for your viejo.”

Exposing your sweetness, there is no pause as he traces your folds with his lips before drinking the full flavour of you in. He suddenly penetrates you with his tongue whilst nuzzling your clit with his nose- making you gasp with the chaotic sensation coursing through your nerves. Too soon he pulls away, depriving you of that delicious pleasure that was building.

Cocking his head to one side as he still lies between your thighs, his forehead more wrinkled than ever, he quietly grumbles, “Did you hear that?”

You shoot him a look of confusion and frustration with a small shake of the head.

“They tell you not to scar your kids but no one ever talks about the scars they create,” he continues sulkily before resettling himself, his hands scooping under your bum.

“Quit your moaning and get back to work,” you ruffle his curls teasingly before inhaling sharply as he parts your lips deftly with his tongue. You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips, your hips bucking into his mouth as he massages his tongue over your clit and presses two fingers inside you - curling them, beckoning you towards the edge.

Pero keeps working at bringing you closer and closer with his gentle but constant ministrations. You clamp a hand on the back of his head, holding him in the perfect position, "There, oh Pero - yes, right there, right there," you breathe heavily.

As his fingers pump, his tongue dances and his lips caress wickedly, the pressure builds until you jolt away from the bed, shake and climax all over his face. Your normally grumpy faced husband chuckles again as he kneels up between your legs, smugly grinning like a champion collecting his prize. You pull him into a kiss, tasting yourself upon his lips and holding him tightly in your arms, “Let me make you feel good, baby.”

“No, no, cariño. I need all the strength I can get for tomorrow,” a low laugh emanates from Pero, “If we survive without a divorce and all three children in one piece - you can make me feel good tomorrow. Perhaps Christen the new sofa?”

Sniggering into his neck, you pull him backwards into the bed, snuggling into his broad chest.

“Mami? Papi? What are you laughing about?” a bleary eyed small human stands half asleep at the end of the bed, their hair standing at right angles to their head.

“How long have you been standing there, CiCi-Cielo?” Pero gently asks your youngest.

“Jus’ wanted to see why you were laughing. Was it a funny joke?”

“Very funny, cariño but you should be asleep in your own bed, not chatting here in Mami and Papi's room, si?” your husband slides off the bed before holding his hands out to pick up his baby girl.

“Did you find a helicopter?”

“Not one that will fit in our front room,” Pero answers, his eyes crinkling as Francisca settles into his neck.

“Que sueñes con los angelitos, CiCi Cielo, dream with the angels CiCi dear,” you wave after the sleepy head tucking herself into her daddy’s side.

As the two of them disappear through the doorway, you settle back into your pillows, listening to the sweet, slightly off key singing of duérmete mi niño as Pero tries to lull your daughter back off to sleep. His soothing baritone cuts through the calm night air as you still feel such a wave of warmth towards that utter cabrón you met all those years ago.

✪✪✪✪✪

IKEA is a terrifying place, reminiscent of Sartre’s No Exit- a relatable feeling of being trapped in an existential hellscape. As you enter with your four other family members through the spinning doors of doom into the obstacle course, three of them run in opposite directions, the sense of dread sets in and you feel blindly for Pero’s hand. A quick recharge squeeze and you both head after a child whilst calling for another - just another noise amongst the screaming newlyweds, howling babies and huffing husbands.

After finding Javi and promising him an ice cream if he stays by your side, you both head in the last known direction of the rest of your family. Half-listening to his mutterings about Minecraft, your eyes constantly scan the desert of lamps, the oceans of stools and the jungle of taps desperately searching for the three missing members as you walk through the labyrinth. Past the old man asleep on a Poang with a colander on his head - which you and Javi agree is a sensible tactic, a must have piece of armour for the retail park as you both grab one for each other. Past the little girl hunched over a sheet of colouring paper kneeling on a Långfjäll at an impossibly glossy desk, creating an absolute masterpiece as her panicked mother searches through cupboards and under beds. You tap the mum on the shoulder and point her in the direction of her daughter - as her face searches for judgement on yours, you gently shake your head in utter sympathy.

“I came with three and a husband and I’m down to only one child,” you empathise, forgetting you have a colander on your head.

“Shit, I hadn’t even thought about him. Fuck - I am so sorry, your son!”

“Don’t worry, he’s heard worse,” you give Javi a sideways look as he slowly shuffles away to pick up a dropped pen for the artist girl, “C’mon Casanova, we need to find your papi before he eats the canteen clean.”

It may have only been a lapse of a half an hour but it feels like three years as you head through the maze of things. You eventually end up in the children’s section and spy the broad back of your husband sitting at a Lack table on a Mammut chair - his knees almost by his ears he’s so folded up - with Maxi and CiCi as they hold a tea party for a host of soft toys. Hauling Javi over, you can’t help but be amused by the scene before you.

“Do not laugh at me, querida, just help me up,” he glowers in your direction, “Is there a reason you are wearing a colander on your head?”

“I’ve worked out a way from here to the sofas,” Javi pipes up with a single Hoppig dog soft toy tucked under one arm - his brother and sister holding as many as their arms can carry.

“Lead the way, Commandante Javi,” your husband bows to your eldest.

Following Javi’s plan of action, you cut through the space with more coffee tables than Starbucks and via an ocean of stools before you finally find the sofas. The very first you see, Pero nods at it, “That one.”

“Behave yourself, Tovar. That’s not how this works,” you hiss at him through your teeth.

When a yawn breaks out between your babies, Pero and you tentatively drop their hands hoping that at this stage in the game, you might be able to outpace them should they decide to scarper again. Having bounced a few times on their bottoms, trying the springiness of a few sofas, they start to sit for longer periods as you and your husband disagree on every last detail of what you need in your front room.

“It reminds me of Tia Teresa’s house - I hate it.”

The rolls of your eyes are so hard that you see your optic nerve. Having a quick scan of the section, you suddenly have that sinking feeling of not being able to see or hear the kids anymore.

“Pero, where are the kids?”

“Mierda, again?”

You both spin in opposite directions in the sofa department, desperately trying to get a location for them when you finally spy a heap of teddies on a sectional sofa - not too unlike the one in Javi’s drawing. On reaching the pile, you realise that all three are snoring sweetly beneath them.

“This one?” Pero questions as he pulls you into him, kissing the side of your head.

“Perfect,” you agree, “But… Can we leave the kids here?”

“Deal,” he nods, grabbing and emptying an abandoned trolley before filling it with the soft toys and placing Maxi and CiCi on top. Tapping his eldest on the shoulder, he offers him his back as you push the trolley towards the exit, a little surprised that you are leaving with the same amount of family members you came with.

“Mami promised me an ice cream,” a sleep-thick voice came from over Pero’s shoulder.

“Of course she did,” your husband grins lopsidedly at you, “She promised me meatballs and apple cake too.”

“Bribery and corruption - it’s the only true weapon in my arsenal,” you shrug as you head towards the warehouse, ready to get that goddamn sleepy magic sofa delivered as soon as possible so that the whole ordeal can be over.

✪✪✪✪✪

“They’re almost manageable when they’re asleep,” you giggle, looking over your shoulder at the three snoring kids now buckled into their car seats.

Pero looks back in the rearview mirror, his harsh features softening on seeing the sleepy trio, “Maybe we could add a fourth, querida - I mean, we’re already outnumbered, what trouble would one more be?”

“Hush your mouth, you get the easy deal. No more babies, I already have four babies to look after, it just so happens that I’m married to one of them.”

After pulling a face at you, Pero puts the car in gear and gets ready to drive off, “Either way, we christen the sofa tonight, si?”

“Por supuesto!”

With a massive thank you to @yespolkadotkitty who is the best cheerleader and beta ever!

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fuckyeahmarxismleninism · 2 years

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MIAMI CARAVAN AGAINST THE U.S. BLOCKADE OF CUBA

Sunday, February 27 - 10:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.

Miami City Hall, 3500 Pan American Drive

¡CONVOCATORIA PARA EL 27 DE FEBRERO DE 2022, CARAVANA DE MIAMI CONTRA EL BLOQUEO DE ESTADOS UNIDOS A CUBA!

[Traducción al inglés a continuación] Todos los opositores al cruel e inmoral bloqueo de Estados Unidos a Cuba están llamados a participar en la Caravana de Miami que tendrá lugar el domingo 27 de febrero, con salida desde el Ayuntamiento de Miami a las 12:00 del mediodía. Con bocinas tocando la bocina, luces parpadeando y nuestros vehículos adornados con letreros y banderas, ¡llevaremos nuestro mensaje a través de las principales calles de esta ciudad! Nuestra caravana, como parte de la construcción de Puentes de Amor, ha estado pidiendo la reapertura de la Embajada en La Habana para impulsar las visas y los programas de reunificación familiar. Venimos pidiendo la reanudación de nuestro derecho a enviar remesas a la familia en Cuba. Hemos estado pidiendo que se amplíen los viajes a las principales ciudades de Cuba. Pedimos una mayor colaboración médica en la lucha contra la pandemia de Covid. La administración Biden colocó un globo de prueba a principios de mes para que pronto pudiera cumplir con algunas de estas demandas. La caravana de Miami da la bienvenida a ese anuncio como una señal de que la administración está sintiendo la presión del creciente apoyo a nuestras demandas. ¡Pero todo el aire se ha ido de este globo! Una vez más, se nos dice que esperemos mientras Washington "estudia" el problema. ¡Pero no queremos esperar! ¡Estamos cansados de hacer largas filas para comprar boletos de avión escandalosamente caros para visitar a la familia a solo unos cientos de millas de distancia! Cansados de ver a nuestra familia sufriendo los efectos prolongados del recrudecimiento del bloqueo contra ellos en un momento en que la simple decencia exige más colaboración científica en la lucha contra el Covid. La Caravana de Miami dice: "¡No esperen para poner fin al bloqueo que pesa tanto sobre la familia cubana! Únase a nosotros en nuestra acción pacífica y legal que une a todos los opositores al bloqueo, independientemente de sus otras opiniones políticas". El Ayuntamiento de Miami está ubicado en 3500 Pan American Drive. Comenzaremos a reunirnos a las 10:00 am y saldremos al mediodía. Habrá música, letreros para poner en sus vehículos y un breve programa antes de que nos vayamos. ¡Por favor, únase a nosotros!

CALL FOR FEBRUARY 27, 2022, MIAMI CARAVAN AGAINST THE U.S. BLOCKADE OF CUBA!

All opponents of the cruel and immoral U.S. blockade of Cuba are called to participate in the Miami Caravan that will take place on Sunday, February 27, departing from Miami City Hall at 12:00 noon. With horns honking, lights flashing, and our vehicles emblazoned with signs and flags, we will bring our message through major streets of this city! Our caravan, as part of building Puentes de Amor, has been calling for the reopening of the Embassy in Havana to jump start visas and family reunification programs. We have been calling for the resumption of our right to send remittances to family in Cuba. We have been calling for expanded travel to the major cities of Cuba. We are calling for increased medical collaboration in the fight against the Covid pandemic. The Biden administration put up a trial balloon at the beginning of the month that it might soon comply with some of these demands. The Miami caravan welcomes that announcement as a sign that the administration is feeling pressure from the growing support for our demands. But all the air has gone out of this balloon! Once again, we are told to wait while Washington “studies” the problem. But we don’t want to wait! We are tired of standing on long lines to buy outrageously overpriced plane tickets to visit family only a few hundred miles away! Tired of seeing our family suffering from the prolonged effects of the tightened blockade against them at a time when simple decency calls for more scientific collaboration in the fight against Covid. The Miami Caravan says, “do not wait to end the blockade that weighs so heavily on the Cuban family! Join us in our peaceful, legal action that unites all opponents of the blockade regardless of their other political views.” Miami City Hall is located at 3500 Pan American Drive. We will begin assembling at 10:00 am and depart at noon. There will be music, signs to put on your vehicles, and a brief program before we drive off. Please join us!

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deadinside-butstill-horny · 3 years

Text

The Night We Met

Part Three - Most Of You

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 10k - Word count got away from me.

Summary: We learn a little about Y/N’s past. Tequila is involved and inhibitions lowered.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death, themes of PTSD,18+ SMUT warning, oral, fingering, dirty talk, penetrative sex. Lots and lots of consent, cause consent is sexy and you know our boy Javi is nothing if not respectful.

MASTERLIST

AO3

Author Note: I really enjoyed writing this. It’s absolutely just porn with minor plot but I have no regrets.

Got the gif from this photo set during the week because THAT’S THE SMILE I’M ON ABOUT. That cute as fuck half smile; it melts my heart.

Part One - Part Two

It just so happened that when Javier decided to stop trying to seduce you, the two of you could actually be around one another and have a good time. Well, not quite as good as that night. But in the grand scheme of things; good-ish.

After the debauchery that had occurred outside of the church the two of you had ceremonially agreed to a ceasefire on all hostilities with your second meeting. You were equal parts surprised and disappointed that Javier had been on his best behaviour, the two of you had successfully bought the ingredients and were currently producing what was sure to be a decent breakfast without either of you ending up naked.

He was the picture of domesticity as he sat on the counter top with a beer in his hand at 8:15am as you whisked some eggs in a bowl using a fork, you paused for a moment, taking a sip of your own beverage, then resuming your task as you threw the eggs into the too hot pan making them sizzle on the skillet.

"No, no, no, no." Javier cried and pushed himself off of the counter as he tutted, coming to your side and placing his hand on the curve of your waist to move you out of his way. His hand slithers forward and lingers a second on your own fingers before he takes the spatula and puts space between the two of you to manage the task at hand.

For a moment, you're perplexed. The movement itself wasn't particularly invasive or breaking from the gentlemanly persona he had adopted in the last two hours, but rather it was an act of, well, familiarity. Which reason dictates simply shouldn’t exist between the two of you.

You had known each other for a grand total of 48 hours and that was being generous as you had been comatosed for easily 15 of those. He had a bad habit of popping up when you least expected it and disarming you with an easy smile.

You didn’t like how he made you feel. Everything you said, you measured his reaction, a pull of his lip, a flash of his teeth or a narrow of his brow; these were his tells, well his obvious ones.

You tried desperately to convince yourself that this was platonic analysis. It would seem you could kid Javier but you couldn’t trick yourself. You felt things for the man that you really shouldn’t after knowing him for two days. You were frustrated with the situation, he’d slept with another woman hours after your encounter. You were jealous, sure, but not betrayed.

It was a matter of pride, that evening had somewhat extinguished the fire for the bronzed man who was currently trying to save the eggs you’d flash fried. What you were experiencing were embers. Yes, embers. The fire hadn’t completely been doused and all you had was a residual heat. A deep glowing burning heat, sure. But eventually reality would be sure to dump some more water on this fire and you wouldn’t feel this lingering need for the man, right?

“¡Espero que te gusten los huevos calientes!” Javier hollered over the sizzling with a smirk on his face as he scraped at the pan with the instrument he’d stolen from you.

“Eggs and Hot? That’s all I got!” You question a smile warming your face, apparently his enthusiasm was contagious.

He chuckled at your words and nodded, “Tu español no es tan malo linda dama!”

“I got nothin’ besides español,'' you shrug. Javier let out another snicker, he seemed to laugh a lot but he was missing the soft wrinkles bracketing his mustache which made you think that maybe this wasn’t his natural state. There was a light silence whilst he sliced the loaf of bread you’d picked from the store. As you were setting the table your book caught your eye from its place on the coffee table and you couldn’t resist trying out some of your newly learnt infant level language.

“Hola Javier, mi nombre es Y/N. Mi color favorito es el Y/F/C.¡Me gustan los perros!”

(My name is Y/N, My Favourite colour is Y/F/C. I like dogs!)

Javier turned around his expression; a picture of incredulousness. His eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, his mustache almost touching his nose as you got a view of his brilliant white teeth in a genuine honest to god grin. If you had a camera, you’d have captured that moment.

“I’ll have to be careful around you, huh, sunshine? These new Spanish skills of yours could get me into trouble.”

“Bailar es divertido!” You exclaim using the only Spanish phrase you know.

“What?...Dancing is fun?... Where the hell did you learn this stuff?”

“Español �� para... niños”

“Española para niñas” Javier corrected helpful “Unless you’ve got something you need to tell me...”

“Damn! The masculine and feminine, they briefly touched upon the theory in Spanish for Kids. It wasn’t as in depth as you might think though.” You joke with a huff. “Hey, do you know where I can get a better translating book?”

“Learning Spanish, huh? How long are you plannin’ on staying exactly?” You jump at the addition of a third voice, Steve appears looking thoroughly rested with his voice two octaves lower than it should be.

“Well ya’ know Stevie, it’s pretty ignorant to not learn a little of the language of the country you’re in.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” Steve points out, you’d hoped he would give in and let it go considering Javier was here. Though seeing as he greeted his partner whilst grabbing a cup of coffee before turning expectantly towards yourself, your chances of skirting around the subject seemed slim.

“I don’t have any commitments at home, not like I got the hospital waiting for me to come back. So... I’mma stay… ya know … live a little!”

“Gillian? She’s not waiting for you?”

“Nah, I quit.”

“You quit?! It took you fuckin’ ages to get that job.”

“Stevie, If I have to clean up puke in a fucking grocery store once more. I honestly don't think I can take it- don’t look at me like that. Three times is three times too many!”

“You’re fuckin’ out of your mind. This isn’t a holiday.”

“No, but I need some change, you clearly need to get your ass kicked back in line. We both win! If you help me get a job it’ll be great… I can practically speak Spanish already....”

“I dispute that.” Javier piped up.

“Shut up.” You say as you throw the tea towel at him. “Look Stevie. Everything’s fine. You were fine with Connie and Olivia being here. I’m a grown ass woman.” There was silence as Javier continued moving around the kitchen, only this lull was a little heavier, you chalk it up to you being the youngest and the only girl in a family with three brothers. God knows they’d been benching you your entire life.

“Fine.” Steve huffed and sat down at the table as you and Javier served up. The man in question gave you a conspiratorial wink as you passed one another. Nothing more was said on the matter as you tucked into breakfast. Infact, pleasant conversation was kept up all through the meal until it came time for Javier and Steve to go.

“We gotta get into the embassy. Heard rumours the new boss starts soon and we need to get our ducks in a row.” Steve nodded to Javier's words. “You ready to get back in the ring?”

“Been ready for the past two weeks, man. This leave of absence was bullshit”

Steve grabs his coat as you watch expectantly, waiting for your invite to the boys club, that inevitably doesn’t come. Instead you receive a much more in character; “Stay in the apartment, for god sakes Y/N. Just for today. I’ve left my number on the pad if you need me.”

You nod noncommittally and combined with a shrug the action hits its mark as Steve sighs.

“This isn’t funny. Bogotá isn’t safe for you.” You repeat your action, this time without the shrug. He huffs but carries on out of the door, he must have realised that was as much as an acquiescence as he was going to recieve, Javier follows him but stops on the threshold.

“Te encontraré ese libro, Guapa.” He calls out before closing the door behind him.

“no hablo español, motherfucker!” You shout after him, you vaguely hear his warm chortle as he descends down the stairs. With your legs propped up on the chair in front of you, you huff and look around the room. The absolute assholes had left you with the washing up. Yeah, feminism was definitely taking a hit during your time in Colombia.

Apparently the agents hadn’t got the memo about the change in gender roles, you cursed their names as you turned on the radio to some latin music and began the arduous process of cleaning the entire kitchen, including the appliances and counters you hadn’t even used.

You then moved onto the lounge, hey, if you were going to play the role of housewife, you were going to at least be a good one. You hoovered, reorganised and dusted your ass off for at least three-ish hours before you got bored, abandoning your work for snooping, you were only human after all.

First you looked in the medicine cabinet and found nothing good, I mean, you don’t know what crazy drugs you were expecting your brother, the DEA agent, to have in his possession but you were crestfallen with the dull discovery of a spare toothpaste, American xanax and ‘aspirina bebé’.

With a lamentful sigh you took your sleuthing into the bedroom, pulling his bedside drawer open with a hesitant hand. You don’t know what dark sexual preferences your brother and Connie may or may not have and you didn’t want to risk permanent scarring. As you open it fully you glance inside remaining tentative, your eyes first fall on the badge left behind. He must have forgotten it. You take it out and place it on the bed beside you as you continue to investigate.

Your hands find a wad of folded yellow notepad paper, the jagged edges have been ripped from the main pad in frustration. Unfolding the wad, you do a once over of the sheet in front of you. The words ‘Dear Connie,’ make you halt in your sted. Finding a gimp mask or weed was funny, this however crossed a line. So you placed the notes back where you found them, you turned to grab the badge and place it back on top of the pile but as the light shone on the metal an idea sprung to mind.

To say you were famed for your impulse control issues was an understatement. You often acted first with no regard for the consequences, hence your presence in Colombia and your extensive shoe collection. But as you drove your brother's Jeep through the streets of Bogotá, you realised that you may finally push Steve over the edge. Already in too deep you took the final turn, following the map you had spread out on the passenger side and were greeted with the American flag. Eureka. You had taken an embarrassing amount of wrong turns but had finally arrived.

You pulled up to the barrier and smiled at the Colombian guard donned in a dark green uniform.

“Hola, Agent Murphy DEA asked me to drop off his badge.” You wiggle the object of your deceit in his eye line.

“Identification?” The guard asked in heavily accented English. You shut off the car's engine as you turn to your purse and pull your driver's license out and hand it over. He inspects the plastic, looking between you and the ID before nodding and handing it back to you, definitely not a social butterfly. He then waved to the gentleman controlling the barrier, allowing you access.

“DEA office is to the right. Personnel only.”

“I’ll be in and out, quick as a flash.” You reassuringly smile at the man and receive only a stony glare in return. Deciding to stop pushing the apparently limitless bounds of your dumb luck you pull through the barrier and into the car park on the right. You park up in what you hope is an unreserved space and hop out of the tall vehicle.

“Right, what's the plan again?” you mumble to yourself as you pause for a second, before starting towards the cream building and hopping up the stairs. You cling to the badge like a life raft, terrified you’ll be stopped as the imposter sight-seerer you are. Now in your defence, you knew this was dumb. Steve had an important job and distracting him wasn’t helpful in the least, but you couldn’t help yourself. Stay inside- like that was ever going to happen.

So you scoured the offices of the embassy for about fifteen minutes before you decided to break and ask for help, finally stopping an american looking woman with large stylish shoulder pads and even bigger hair.

“I’m looking for the DEA office? Steve Murphy, Javier Peña?” She seemed to bristle at the mention of the latter.

“Take that elevator to the third floor and it's the third door on the left, but watch out for Peña, he’s a real- '' She cut herself off with a huff, before nodding your way and walking off.

No shit, sister.

Following the potentially scorned woman's instructions you found yourself in the DEA Bogotá headquarters; only Steve and Javier were nowhere to be seen.

Fuck.

You looked around the room taking a slight step back getting ready to turn on your heel as an older white haired man entered the room.

“Hey Newbie, I need two copies of each of these and I need these faxed to the team in Medellín.”

“Uh-”

“I needed them there yesterday, so get to it.” He dumps the two huge piles of files into your arms as you stare at him bemused. Looking back you still don’t know why you didn’t say anything, but you rolled up your sleeves and whipped out that can-do attitude and got to work, at what was apparently your new guerilla admin job. And that is how Javier and Steve found you two hours later, fighting with a fax machine and on the phone to the office in Medellín.

“No- I understand how the machine works… Yes… Yes I’ve turned it off and on, I think the problems on your side… No I don’t- Well Weaver needed the case file there yesterday so you need to figure something out! Yes… Yes I’ll hold. “ You turned when you heard steps behind you, pressing the receiver between your head and your shoulder and holding the fax machine manual.

“Hey Guys!” You say cheerily, pretending like this was completely normal, like you hadn’t just dropped into Steve’s life and then surprised him every step of the way.

“What in the hell are you-” Steve started, however the woman on the other side of the phone decided to pick up, you held up one finger to the two of them as a pause.

“Oh, Hey Salome, It’s no problem… that’s great, I'll give it a try.” You drop the manual and press the green button on the fax machine, the machine begins making the whizzing sound you’d been chasing for the past twenty minutes. “Sounds all good on my end. Right, that's great I’ll send the rest across now. Thanks, have a nice day!”

“Am I high, right now? What the fuck is going on?” Steve’s tone matched his face with the disbelief painted upon it. He had taken a seat at the desk which just so happened to be next to the fax machine and copier. Javier sat at his own in front of the typewriter with a smirk on his face lighting up a cigarette.

“Uh, well... I came to give you your badge cause’ you forgot it at home and then Weaver asked me to do some copies. Turns out that security here is pretty lax, cause’ I’ve been copying and faxing classified case files for the past two hours and no one seems to know or care that I don’t work here.” Steve’s eye all but twitched as he rubbed at his face. He reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and began pouring himself a glass.

“Fine.” He actually shrugged after downing the drink in one. Damn, You weren’t sure which had broken him, yourself or Colombia. “Better you’re here where I can keep tabs on you...Javi, can we get her an actual job?”

“I’ll run it by Messina,” Javier shrugged as he stood from behind his desk. “Probably best not to mention the perusal of classified cases though.”

So that’s how the three of you ended up at dinner celebrating your new job four days later, you were officially an office administrator for the DEA in Colombia, heading to the CNP base of operations in Medellín alongside your brother and his partner as their administrator, well, from what you understood, you were their dogsbody. Your Spanish speaking ability had been greatly exaggerated but you were undeniably overqualified for the position, so, pending a background check you were through doors.

Your interview with Steve and Javi’s boss; Messina, had been nerve wracking and your Murphy name had won you no favours.

You’d given it your best and from what you could see you’d managed to convince her you were worth your salt.

Yep, you’d proved yourself totally capable and more importantly, completely willing to move around 8 hours away to Medellín to live on an army base where a drug cartel was incredibly active. According to Javi this had apparently made you a very appealing hire to the DEA. As such you were being sent along with the boys to help out on the front line, well, as close to the front line as an admin/dogsbody gets.

The three of your glasses clinked in unison, before you drained your shot with a regretful gasp, Tequila was the devil.

“Thank you to Javi, for not only saving my sister from her stupidity once, but twice… or is it three times now?!” Steve lifted his second shot as he gave his heartfelt speech. Picking up the lime you’d just sucked the juice out of you launched it at him, missing by some margin. He let out what could only be described as a snigger as both him and Javi threw their second shots back.

If you were completely honest with yourself, you were wasted.

The three of you had enjoyed a meal and many, many subsequent drinks. Knowing full well the two men had a distinct advantage of having had at least a year to pickle their livers in whiskey from the stress of this place, you had insisted that for every two drinks they had, you had one. .

Still, six drinks in with no sign of stopping you felt better than you really had any right to. The room had yet to start spinning and for those small mercies, you were thankful.

“Nah, Thankyou to you both! I’ve heard Medellín is lovely this time of year!”

“Well, you won’t know. You’ll be spending all of your time on base, where it’s safe.”

“Steve-”

“Non-negotiable. You wanna come to Medellín, fine. But you do what I say, and no Y/N’s day out like in Bogotá.”

“Dude, you’re such a buzz-kill!”

“Dude? What are you 15?!” Javier jokes with a cigarette between his lips. You’d been here only a week and yet he’d managed to navigate how to defuse an impending Murphy fight from a mile away.

“You should’a seen her at 15. Those teeth!”

“Ya’ got any pictures?” Javi asks, half distracted with flagging down the waitress and showing her five fingers.

“Really Steve, you wanna go there? After the earring incident?” Javier turns his full attention on you.

“Murphy had an earring?”

“No-” Steve tries to interrupt.

“Yep, a nice little hoop.”

“I didn’t…”

“It got caught on his windbreaker and he ripped it out of his ear, it got infected.”

“Wind breaker?” Javier was biting his lip and staring at your brother, not really trying so hard to contain his laughter.

“Can’t think why I didn’t want you around, Sis. Look- I was trying something out; It didn’t work, so I moved on.” You wait a beat, allowing Javier to take in the information before you helpfully and without prompt drop a nugget of information for the Hispanic man.

“... He had to go to hospital.” A chortle burst unintentionally from Javier’s chest as your comment caught him by surprise.

“Y/N!” Steve burst out in frustration, making you cackle with glee.

“Okay, Okay.” You hold your hands in mock surrender as the waitress drops another round of drinks on the table.

“Let’s head over to the discotheque, live music- no Sicario’s. Big with Bogotá policia so very safe.” Javier pitched like he was speaking to a child as he tried to convince Steve. He knew you were in from the excitement that lit up your form.

“I don’t know, dancing-”

“Would be good for you! Come on Steve, this place is closing soon anyway-” You counter, only to be cut off as he frantically looks at his watch.

“What time is it- I promised I’d phone Con tonight- FUCK!” He stood quickly grabbing the table to steady himself and ran to the phone box just outside of the bar, you could just about see him from where you sat in the window booth besides Javi.

The two of you looked at one another for a moment, you weren’t quite at the level where conversation came easy, but you weren’t uncomfortable by any means.

“Thanks for talking to Messina for me… honestly. You’ve done so much for me since I got here.”

“Like I said, it’s no problem, guapa.” He smiles at you, not a smirk for once but a delighted easy smile that rarely graces his face. “I saw your CV.”

“Oh.” The smile drops off of your face, his eyes analyse your reaction, the easy smile replaced by a sombre expression.

“Yeah, Oh. You were a doctor, a surgeon? I thought you mopped up vomit in a grocery store in Miami?”

“It’s complicated.” You gave him no further explanation, you expected him to move on, except Javier wasn’t like other people, he didn’t make things easy. He stared at you expectantly with those deep brown questioning eyes. “Christ, okay. Yes I was in my final year of residency, not quite a surgeon.”

“How does that happen?”

“How does what happen?” You question, you know you’re being difficult but this isn’t something you’ve talked about with Steve, for Godsakes. He did that trick once more, hitting you with those soul-full eyes.

Honestly, it was lucky you weren’t working for Escobar, forget waterboarding, all Javi would have to do was look at you to get you to give up your darkest secrets. “Things didn’t go my way, I wasn’t happy there. The hours were long and that shit was heavy.”

He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer but he didn’t push any further, finally respecting your reluctance, he nodded. Stubbing out his cigarette and tilting his head towards the shots he asked “...Another?”

“Why not?” You reply hesitantly.

Taking the salt you go to shake it onto the back of your hand when a tanned one stops your movement in its wake.

“No, no, no. Let’s do it a little different.” His eyes shot up to where your brother was leaning against the phone booth before he took your hand in his. Adjusting his grip he lifts your wrist to his mouth. Your heart is beating in your ears as you watch as his pink tongue pokes out and laps one, twice at your pulse point. A long line of saliva is left on your wrist as he shakes the salt over it. His eyes meet yours for a moment, as if asking permission.

You don’t know how you even instruct your brain to nod, but regardless you carry out the action. Javi brings his mouth to your wrist once more in one solid stroke of his talented tongue, your eyes clamp closed as he finishes swiping up the salt before draining both the tequila and lime.

You’re breathing heavy as you open your eyes, to find those mahogany ones laser focused on you.

“You missed a step.” You mumble, your eyes never leaving his as you hold the lime up to his mouth, rind first. His teeth close over it and his lips just barely graze your fingertips. You turn to check on Steve, thankfully your brother has his back to the two of you, deep in conversation with Connie. Probably for the best, given your plan.

You turn sideways to face Javi, lifting one of your legs up onto the booth and bending it at the knee to get a vantage point. The alcohol coursing in your veins gives you the courage as one hand wraps around his neck and the other his shoulder, you lean forwards to give one long solitary lick up his neck, right on the pulse. You taste his sweat stained skin, salty and warm on your tongue.

Reaching for the shaker, you apply it liberally, smiling as you drop some of it down his t-shirt. Though from the stare he seemingly refused to remove from you, you don’t think he much cared. Once you considered your job done, you turned back and pushed his head to the side and began licking the salt from his neck, this time you tortured him with three small cat licks along the flesh, you felt his neck tense as his hand moved from its place on the pleather booth and wrapped around your thigh.

You reached back to the table and sank your shot. Wincing you turned back to Javier, leaning forward to grab the lime from his mouth. As you did so, he dropped it purposefully, staring directly into your eyes, a clear challenge, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you forward locking your lips in a devastating kiss. He tasted of lime, tequila and just Javier; that unexplainable component which was both sweet and smoky. His tongue plundered the depths of your mouth, seemingly uncaring of your brother who was mere metres away. Your hands roved his chest before locking in the short hair on the nape of his neck.

Unexpectedly it was Javi who broke the kiss. The two of you paused with your foreheads meeting, much like the night you met. He seemed to be trying to regain control.

“Meet me in the bathroom?” You whisper, rubbing your nose against his beautifully angular hooked one. He breathed out heavily through his nose, his eyes opening and pushing you away by your shoulders.

“No, I’m not gonna fuck you in the fucking bathrooms of a filthy fucking bar- are you crazy?” Behind his eyes a rage and arousal battled, apparently you had rattled him with your question, he reached forward for his whiskey, and took a sip whilst shaking his head and trying to centre himself. “I’m giving you whiplash? Yeah that’s real cute. You change what you want every single fuckin’ day, then look at me like I’m a dick.”

You supposed he had a point, after all you had been the one to ask for the redo and then stared at him longingly every day since. “It’s not an easy situation to navigate, ok? I came here for Steve-”

“You didn’t come here for Steve.” He uttered under his breath, staring straight ahead with his elbow perched on the table and holding the glass to his mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t come here for Steve, not completely. You came here for you.”

“That’s not-” Javier turns to you, locking you down with his gaze. It was easy to forget he was a cop; observative and attentive to a fault, he could call your bullshit from a mile away.

“Everything you’ve done since you got here, that’s not for him. You’re desperate for some life back in those veins. You don’t just give up being a fuckin’ surgeon and feel fulfilled with your position at a fuckin’ grocery store, Sunshine.”

“Wow, you’ve got me pegged, huh? No wonder they’ve got you after Escobar, best detective on the fucking case.” You roll your eyes refusing to look at him, sipping a beer as a way of hiding how he’s unnerved you. Everything he’s saying true and you’re ashamed of yourself.

“You don’t come down to the embassy if you’re trying to make your brother's life easier. I’m not criticizing Guapa, but how about cutting the bullshit messiah complex.”

You’re embarrassed and trying to look anywhere but him. His hand reaches for your own as Steve rounds the corner, the tanned fingers instead lock around the shot glass in front of you.

“So, what’d I miss?” Your voice is lodged in your throat, you don’t think you could speak even if you could think of the words you wanted to use. Javi answers in some nondescript way you don’t even really listen to before ordering another round of drinks.

“Y/N/N, You alright?” Steve asked, ever the concerned brother.

(your nickname)

“Yeah, Javi- uh, he saw my cv.” It wasn’t a complete lie but you still feel bad for using past trauma to make your brother skirt around the issue in the way you knew he would.

“Oh, Uh… Drink?” Steve stared at you, uneasy.

“Yeah, a drink would be great.” Your voice is monotone to even your ears, you reach forward and down the beer in front of you, desperate for this awkwardness to be over and the feeling in the pit of your stomach to vanish. You’re happy to say after around ten minutes of the two men holding up the conversation, it atleast eases slightly.

There’s a lull as you all wait drinks arrive and you have managed to regain your basic motor skills. This is the selfishness Javi is talking about. Steve needs a good night, without feeling crappy about his damaged sister stealing the lime-light. So putting your best foot forward you look across to Javi and smile.

“So, how was Connie?”

“She’s good! She’s enjoying getting back to work, her sister’s having Liv during the day.” Guilt swells in your stomach once again. You should be there making Connie’s life easier, but instead you abandoned her to play the hero in Colombia. The shame spiral is slowly clawing at your stomach, as you force yourself to take a deep breath.

“That’s good…” You’re saved by the bell, or rather the waitress bringing over the tray of beverages. Taking your beer first, you reach across and controversially take two of the shots. Both men chuckle at your bravado as Javi asks the woman for an extra shot.

The night continued on much like that, minus the regret whirlwind as the tequila seemed to help get rid of any real self reflection. The three of you didn’t even make it to the discotheque, as by the time the bar closed, the three of you began the short walk home, you were carrying the large box of pizza that you had insisted on ordering.

Surprisingly, Steve was the drunkest of your trio. His phone call with Connie had sent him into his own spiral. He began drinking tequila like it was water, to the point Javier had thrown in the towel, deciding he’d much rather like to live to see tomorrow. So with your pizza in one arm and your other wrapped around your brother's waist, you and Javi half carried Steve home and up the stairs into the apartment.

The two of you unceremoniously dumped him on his bed, carefully you placed the pizza box you had cradled to your breast on the chest of drawers before you stepped forward past Javier.

You pulled Steves boots off of his feet and pulled his legs up onto his bed, taking his belongings out his pockets; yes, including his gun, you placed them on the bedside table. You then placed a glass of water and an aspirin next to them, feeling sympathy for his head tomorrow morning.

Happy that your job was done, you shut the light off and went into the living room, once again cradling the pizza. Javier was slouched on the sofa/your bed flicking through your Spanish introduction book, as you entered the room he threw it back on the table and pointed at the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table.

“Got any more?”

“Think, that was his last one…” you shrug.

“Come down to mine for a drink? I don’t like how we left things.”

“No more talking?” Javier looks at you reproachfully, scanning your body as if the direct proposition you’d accidentally given him was the last thing he expected. “Uh- I mean- no more hard questions and no more...touching.”

“Alright.” He nods, pushing himself up with a sigh. “But if there’s no more touching, I get half of that pizza Sunshine.”

You nod and smile, following him down the stairs to his apartment. As you cross the threshold emboldened by tequila, you don’t dwell on your self destructive tendencies as Javier’s recent comments would’ve made you if you were sober.

You’re tired and all you want is a drink of whiskey, some pizza and for Javier to give you that smile, the one that makes the side of his mustache raises and reveals the pearly white of his teeth. Dropping the pizza down on the coffee table you make yourself at home, sitting very deliberately on the couch he hadn’t screwed someone else on. If he notices, Javi didn’t say anything.

He hurried over, cigarette balanced in between his lips as both hands were taken up. One holding two glasses and the other cradling the whiskey. He sits himself down with considerably more grace than you had, on the other sofa. You reach down the side of the sofa where you spy the remote peeking out from beneath the leather cushion and begin skimming through the channels until you find the telenovelas you'd unironically begun watching since arriving in Colombia.

Opening the box of Pizza, you take a slice and begin devouring the meal. It’s not quite like pizza as you know it, but it's tasty and full of carbs to soak up the alcohol so you can’t find a fault with it. The two of you eat in silence for around half an hour.

It seemed neither of you were eager to break the silence after the daunting conversation from earlier. It’s as you’re taking your first sip of whiskey watching two women argue in Spanish on the television you decide to speak.

“I figure I owe you some answers.”

“You don’t owe me shit, Sunshine.” He’s leaning back in his seat, whiskey balancing on his knee and a fresh smoke in his hand. “Sure I’m intrigued, but I'll figure you out in the end. Miami’s own angel of death?”

You chuckle at how close to the mark he is as he makes a shot in the dark. “I’m gonna need a refill if we’re gonna talk about our feelings…”

“Feelings… woah, woah, woah. I didn’t sign up for that.” He has a brazen smirk on his face, as he takes the now empty glass from your palm and fills it up. You down a second and he repeats the task.

“I killed a kid,” You wheeze as you wince from the burn turning your head towards the television and nursing the now full whiskey glass between your hands. “You asked why I gave up becoming a surgeon. I... I was the lead resident on a fuckin’ appendectomy. I could do that shit in my sleep. I perfed the abdominal wall as I was geting ready to close him up; a tiny fucking knick. There were no bleeders and his vitals remained normal, didn’t even notice I’d done it. It was as they were taking him back to the ward, he just crashed.”

You finish another glass and as your eyes water, you pretend it's the burn of the alcohol. You breathe heavy, your upper lip quivering. You’ve heard of the sensation but never felt it.

“I froze. I opened him up in the lift, by the time I got back in there, he’d bled out. A twelve year old; Justin Miller. Just a fucking kid.” Javi doesn’t try to interrupt or make you feel better, which honestly made the whole thing easier.

“His mom sued the shit out of me and the hospital, can’t say I blame her. I took a sabbatical and when it was time to go back, I couldn’t. Couldn’t go into the OR without having a fuckin’ panic attack.” You hadn’t met Javi’s eyes for the entirety of the one-sided conversation, scared that when you looked up you’d no longer find those treacle eyes filled with warmth.

Silence fills the air for a devastating second whilst Javier digests your words.

“You fucked up.” He mumbled finally, your eyes shot up to his own and within the pools of chocolate you found his usual warmth, though his customary jovial expression was suddenly somber. Such an expression looked strange on the gentle man you’d come to know, but you knew it was far from out of place. “In our line of work, you mess up; someone dies. It’s not fair or easy, just is what it is.”

You don’t have a word for the noise you make, somewhere between a scoff and a gasp. You chuckle as his response to years of complex trauma you’ve never recovered from is boiled down to five simple words.

“It is what it is.” You repeat disbelieving.

“Can’t change the past. Useless to try.”

“Stuff it down with the brown?” You ask, lifting your empty glass in a cheers.

“Exactly, Guapa.” He unscrewed the whiskey bottle and began pouring you a generous portion. As he’s screwing the lid back on he sits back down, this time though he’s on the couch next to you. “Maybe someday I’ll get teary and we can talk about my fuck ups.”

Your only response is to punch at his hard thigh next to you as you take a long sip, thinking about the information you’d willingly just divulged to Javi. “I’ve never talked about that before.”

“Not with Steve?”

“Not with anyone. I was ashamed for a long time, still am. But it’s different now; more manageable.”

“Ready to operate then, Doctor Murphy?”

“Asshole.” You say with a reluctant smile to the joke at your own expense.

“pendejo” he leaned back on the sofa as he translated.

“pen-dejo?”

“Si muy bueno.”

“Another!”

“Coger!”

“Co-g-er?”

“Si insistes…” He trails off with a smirk.

“You’re a dick.”

“Yes, I am.”

After placing your drink on the coffee table, you lean over to Javi slowly, refusing to break eye contact, all the while and you lay your head on the plush leather of the sofa; nearer his shoulder than his own face.

“Thankyou, Javi.”

“I keep telling you, Sunshine. It’s nothing”

“It’s everything,” You close the distance and place a kiss on his lips. It’s neither heavy nor chaste, like when he initiated them. This is full of meaning, It speaks of letting go of the past and welcoming the future, it's deep and warm and delicious. Your tongue licks at his own as your hand rises to rest on his cheek holding him there, you explore the depths of his mouth instead of conquering them. He tastes of the whiskey and somehow residual tequila, you find yourself getting drunk off of the taste of him.

Pulling away you rest your forehead against his own. “I’m so tired… and drunk.”

“Sleep with me.”

“Javier, you said- I mean, I don’t think-”

“No, sleep. Just sleep... with me. Gotta be better than the couch up there,”

“No funny business?”

“Scouts honor.” After a moment of contemplation you decide that this was specifically breaking the rules of your selfishness, the tequila may have altered your perception of the rules somewhat but you had wanted this man for so long. After your emotional confession, falling asleep next to him seemed cathartic.

You take the remote once more and click the red power button, the screen goes black as Javier has already disappeared into his bedroom. You hear him rummaging around in his drawers as you cross the threshold. Once he’s seemingly found what he was looking for, he holds the article up to your inspecting eye.

It’s a plain olive green v-neck tee, nothing particularly special about it, but it would do as pyjamas, so you accept it gratefully, much preferring a tshirt to the sundress you’d worn out to dinner. You push the straps off of your shoulders, letting them fall under your armpits as you clutch the dress to your front. You pull Javier's t-shirt over your head and are greeted by the fragrance you’d come to love. It smelt like washing powder, spice and cigarette smoke, you wouldn’t say smoke was on your top tier of smells list but it reminded you of Javi so you couldn’t bring yourself to turn your nose up at it.

Once the shirt was covering all the important bits, you lowered your dress and stepped out of the offending cloth.

“A little late for modesty, eh?” He smirks as he lights his cigarette, leaning against the pillows of the bed. He was referring to the morning after you’d arrived in Colombia, where you’d walked through this very apartment, bare as the day you were born.

At some point Javi had rid himself of his dress shirt and dropped onto the bed still wearing his jeans. You shimmy your bra down the sleeve of the tee, to make a point. Winking at him as you finally pull it free. You fling it on top of where your dress lay abandoned.

“You’re still a perv for that.” You smile fondly at the man as you clamber over to your side of the bed. He’d taken the left, closest to the door. He doesn’t reply as you make yourself cosy, under the thin blanket of the duvet.

You roll over to face him, he seems to be miles away.

“Where’d you go?” You ask softly, though he startles still.

“I’m right here,” He deflects, leaning over to the ash tray to stub the smoke out.

“Ok…�� You roll your eyes as he turns off the lamp and lies flat on the bed next to you. The two of you are silent for a while. It’s not quite awkward but it's definitely not comfortable silence, the two of you know the implications of your decision tonight. Even if Javi is being a perfect gentleman. Your eyes have yet to acclimate to the dark as you stare out trying to search for his form.

“Stop staring at me.”

“It’s dark, I’m not staring at anything.” You reply to his childish remark. You hear a chuckle catch in his throat. He seems then to have finally made his decision, he reaches forward and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest. You go to stop him, but there's nothing to stop. He makes no further move as he holds you there. Your cheek rests on the overheated skin of his pectoral, it has just enough give to be comfier than any pillow you’ve ever encountered.

“Maybe, I’ll tell you about my fuck ups one day.” He whispers into your hair, despite the way he says it being non-committal there's a promise behind the words. You don’t reply, already drifting off into the best sleep you’ve had since arriving in Colombia, or perhaps ever.

A part of your brain registers Javi placing a kiss on the crown of your head as your eyes finally shut, though it is quickly replaced by the singular thought of ‘God, I hope I don’t drool all over him.

“You sober?” You look up at the clock on the bedside table that reads 5am. You’d been asleep for about four hours. You make a non committal noise in your throat.

“Javi?” You mumble sleepily, the man behind you is peppering kisses on your neck.

“You want this?” Again you groan, this time however, you nod your head. His arm rises to wrap around your neck, arching your back to get you closer to him. “Do you want this?”

“God yes.” You gasp, pushing your hips back against his bulge. His hands release your stomach as he kisses down your neck once more. His hands are hard on your flesh as they map out your body in the dark.

His hands continue to roam your body as they slide under his shirt, they land on your breasts, he can’t help himself as he weighs them in his hand. He groans in your ear at the feel of them in his palm. You’d always had Javier down as an ass man, he’d nearly burnt a hole through your jeans the night you’d met. But apparently Javi was a man of many tastes as he worshiped your nipple with the pads of his fingers, rolling the sensitive bud through his thumb and forefinger.

You groan at the sensation and push yourself back into him, desperate to feel every inch of his body against your own. You pull away suddenly and he makes a guttural sound in the back of his throat, though all of his questions are answered as you pull his shirt over your head and throw the offensive fabric across the room. As Quick as a flash he’s back on you, his mouth attached to your neck, giving you absolutely no quarter.

He’s the one bucking into you this time and that seems to awaken part of your brain, your hands reach behind you they’re clumsy from sleep and the angle you have is awkward, you struggle with the button of his jeans for a second before his hand leaves one of your breasts to undo it for you. His hand returns as quickly as it left though it doesn't stay there for long as it slowly roves south, stroking the flesh of your stomach and making your entire being tighten up in anticipation as he feels you through your boy shorts. His touches are light at first, testing and exploring your body, before his fingers begin teasingly rubbing at your clit seeming to delight in the way, your wetness seeped through your underwear.

You force your brain back to the task at hand as your hand finds his abdomen and lowers through the hair lurking below his zipper, mimicking the actions he had performed on you moments before, however you have no intention of teasing.

They find their mark, and you have to stop yourself from gasping. You’d felt him on the sofa that night but my god, your imagination hadn’t done him justice as your hand just about closed around him as you pumped him awkwardly behind you. He groaned in your ear and began whispering in a blend of Spanish and English.

His hands rise to dip under your panties, they brush across your mound before they find their home. His fingers barely touch you at first, seeming to be getting the lay of the land. After a moment of teasing, a single solitary finger swipes slowly along your slit, gathering the evidence of your arousal on his fingers.

He groaned in your ear. “So fucking wet, that sweet little cunt is so ready for me…” Instantaneously you lose all motor skills as your body goes into shock, Javier’s dirty mouth would be the death of you.

Fucksake Y/N he wasn’t even inside of you, yet here you were writhing in his arms like a wanton whore from a single sentence.

Your reaction seemed to spur him on as he let go of your body and rolled you onto your back. He swung around on his knees to fit between your legs. His hands rested on your hips, gripping onto the panties that lay there before he rolled them down your legs and threw them behind him. He leaned forward on his elbows, to stare at the most intimate part of you.

Javi began kissing down your thighs, placing small bites along the sensitive skin along the way, getting closer and closer to the throbbing warmth of your pussy.

“I meant what I said, cariño. I want to know how you taste.” Your mind is brought back to that church, the way he had you pushed against those bars, you didn’t think your body could constrict any further. You were desperate for any kind of contact. And you knew right there and then that you had been right; This man would destroy you.

He struck then, much like a cobra towards his prey. His tongue flattened against your warmth, breaching your folds and catching on your clit. The tip of his tongue was skilled as it danced along your bud, drawing cry after cry from you as your hands grabbed at his short ink black hair.

He takes one final lap at your swollen clit before his tongue goes lower, he pushes through and sinks his tongue inside of you. His nose, that you’d appreciated for its character bumped perfectly against your clit making stars shoot behind your eyes. You clenched around his tongue, desperate to be filled, he seemed to get the message as two fingers were quickly buried in your aching hole.

“So fucking tight, Guapa, I don’t know if I can fit three...te lo vas a tomar tan bien.” His tongue had risen back up to your clit, the combination of the vibration and filth of his words made a whimper drop from your lips, before he started rotating his tongue in circles around your swollen bud as his two fingers pumped in and out of your cunt at a thundering pace drawing you closer and closer to the edge as the minutes went by.

Finally, his fingers curled inside you as he sucked your clit into his mouth and all at once you were pushed off the cliff. You couldn’t tell what pushed you over that first peak so quickly, maybe it was the fact that it was Javier, the man who had been plaguing your dreams since you arrived in Colombia, currently between your legs devouring your cunt like a starving man, perhaps it was a culmination of five days of foreplay, but whatever the reason, when you fell, you fell fucking hard.

You clenched around Javi’s fingers like a vice, so much so he hissed into your pussy and began thrusting his fingers faster. Spots clouded your vision as your whole body curved upwards and around the man giving you this pleasure as your legs clamped around his head and your fingers must have scratched his scalp as your hips thrust, riding his face to your peak. You were as taut as bowstring before the tension finally snapped and your body exploded in euphoria. You let out a cry as you crescendo on Javi's talented tongue.

He didn’t stop straight away, even after your body slumped back against the bed, he coaxed you through the aftermath of your orgasm, lapping at your entrance and drinking your come like it was the most delicious wine he’d ever sampled, groaning all the while.

Finally, he pushed himself forward, kissing at your thighs, your mound and finally your stomach as he came to rest over you, holding all his weight on his elbows. His face met your own as he kissed you deep, fucking your mouth with his tongue as he had done your pussy moments before. He leans back rubbing at your stomach, at your hips, at any flesh he can get his hands on.

“Sabes mejor de lo que podría haber imaginado precioso.” He whispers against your breast as his mouth locks around your nipple. Javier Peña speaking Spanish did things to you, even if he hadn’t been stimulating your breasts you knew for a fact you’d be just as wet from hearing him speak in what you could only assume was a first language from the ease with which it left his mouth. You wished more than anything you could understand what was undoubtedly the filth coming from his mouth.

You had recovered enough from his assault on your clit, to move your hands from your sides. They raised up and traced the tanned skin on his chest. He really was beautiful. He pulled back to stare at you, giving you a clearer view of his body.

He was muscled yet lithe and you took a self indulgent moment, committing the sight of him to memory, before your hands wrapped around his cock, which was standing to full attention through the undone zip of his jeans. He was what must have been unbearably hard, if you’d have had light to see, you had no doubt the head of his cock would be purple, straining with need. You pushed his jeans further down, recruiting your feet to push them down over his ass. Your hands roamed down to squeeze at the bountiful offering of meaty flesh.

He chuckled as you pinched his cheek, before lifting his knees one at a time and kicking his jeans off of the bed and before you knew it he was lining himself up, brushing the head of his cock through your wet folds. Despite his groan at the contact, he had the discipline to check a final time. “This is what you want, Y/N?”

You didn’t bother to answer, you pushed his hand away from his cock, and pushed it towards your hole. You pushed your hips up against him in lieu of an answer, welcoming the head of his cock inside you. Even though all you could manage was shallow entry, the feel of him inside of you was glorious.

His hands, those talented, glorious hands found your own, wrapping his significantly larger ones around yours above your head. He pushed forward with one strong thrust of those lithe hips and he buried himself balls deep inside of you, rooted so deep you swear you could feel him in your cervix. He was everywhere, he was plundering every inch of you as his body surrounded your own, heat built between the two of you as sweat began coating both of your bodies.

Every thrust brought you closer to your second peak, turning your head you couldn’t resist trying to get him to claim your mouth too. Though you couldn’t quite reach far enough to make contact, as if reading your mind Javier bent his elbow pushing his torso forward, coincidently pounding deeper into your body as your lips joined in a messy kiss. He was fucking into you slow and deep, his tongue began following the rhythm of his cock as he claimed every single part of you as his own.

The pace was brutally slow, just enough to get you to that edge and keep you on it, you could barely speak. You felt like you were drowning in Javier and every time you came up for air he bottomed out, meeting your hips with his own and the wave of pleasure cut off the oxygen all over again.

“Please… Javi…”

“W-what do you want Sunshine?” He panted out continuing with his slow tempo.

“Faster...please... God.” He ignored your cry for speed and continued fucking you into the matress at his own pace, though his thrusts were just as slow but they were harder. His hips hit against your own, as he put all of his power behind them, getting as deep as he could. If you didn’t know better you’d think he was trying to tunnel through to your womb. You clenched at the thought as he fucked you deep and hard.

“... Javi…” You cried his name, a desperate plea as he kept you suspended over your peak, refusing to let you free fall. Finally he huffed, taking your legs and throwing them over his shoulders.

“You want me to fuck you properly, huh, Guapa?” He began thrusting into you at an arduous pace, the room was filled with your cries, his grunts and slapping of your connecting skin. Those telling black spots were clouding your vision, your second orgasm of the evening was fast approaching. Once again you clenched down on Javi’s thick cock.

“I’m gonna’ come.” His hand lowered and began rubbing at your clit, not pausing for a moment as he fucked you thoroughly.

“ven por mí...ven sobre mi polla… fuckin’ Sunshine, fucking taking my cock…. buena niña, podría follarte todo el día.” The second he lost his brain and began muttering in Spanish was the moment you were gone. You came for the second time as he was relentlessly hammering into you, drawing your orgasm from you. Your whole body braced against him, your eyes squeezed shut as you clamped down around his cock, milking him tightly.

“Fuck!” He growled at the tightness surrounding him.

After a few moments he pulled out, quickly grabbing your and flipping you onto your stomach, after placing a pillow under your hips. He then buried himself back inside of you to the hilt his groans mixing with your own at the sensation. He kept up the pace he had before but this time the angle was deeper as he forced your legs together with his thighs.

Javi’s hands grabbed at your ass (perhaps he was an ass man after all) slapping the meaty flesh which resided there and then instantly kneaded the tissue he’d just abused. His hands rose to carresse the skin of your hips before he took a punishing grip on them and began fucking you in earnest. Javier taking his pleasure from your body whilst you lay a drooling mess from the orgasm he’d already gave you was an image you didn’t know would turn you on, but it made you clench around his shaft as it plundered your depths.

He began speaking again, though they were lost in a mix of Spanish and English, so much so you couldn’t differentiate. His pace was relentless and finally you felt him begin to shake as he gasped above you

“¿dónde?...w...where?”

“Come inside me, Javi.” He groaned at words and continued pounding until his hips stuttered and he brought it home and buried himself deep inside, filling you to the brim with his seed.

The two of you lay there breathing heavy trying hard to get your breath back, half of his weight on top of you and the other half resting on the mattress.His cock was slowly going soft inside of you, yet you felt no urgency to move.

“So much for scouts honor, huh?” You ask from behind a veil of hair, turning your face which had been buried in the mattress moments before. Your voice is hoarse; completely wrecked much like the rest of you.

He’s silent for a moment of consideration, before he leans forward in the moonlight and pushes your hair from your face. The action makes his cock shift inside of you and a little of his release spills out onto your thighs. He continues anyway and places a soft kiss on your lips before whispering “... I was never a boy scout, cariño.”

TAGLIST - Leave a message if you’d like to be added homies.

@drinkingwhileblogging @va-guardianhathaway @jedi-jesi @obsessivelysearching @cannedsoupsucks @wantingtobekorra @littlemissoblivious @linnie0119 @pascalesque @pedrosmustache @sir-lili @obsessivelysearching @fairytale07

A/N: Fuck me that was the steamest shit I’ve ever written. This was especially for @drinkingwhileblogging and her turquoise titties, hope this makes up for me blue balling you all.

#javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #murphy!reader #FUCKING SMIRK AT ME MORE JAVI I SWEAR TO GOD T-T #pedro pascal x reader

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lilahdesignforperformance · 4 years

Text

DESIGN MATRIX

CHARACTERS:

Physical characters:

Alannah Devlin

Fianna Devlin

Da - Peter

British solider

Mentioned characters not necessarily seen:

Mammy

Father Kearney

Maggie

CHARACTER CHANGES:

Alannah Devlin ( Early thirties)

Fianna Devlin ( Late twenties )

Peter “DA” Devlin ( Mid-fifties)

British soldier ( Mid-twenties )

Crocodile - Da

ALANNAH -

Clean (OCD tendencies), innocent (unsure, on edge), quite, polite.

Smokes secretly

Shuts down gets panicked from the fire alarm

Becomes fed up with Fianna

Over thinks which can be seen by her story about the lyrics from Africa by Toto

Becomes more and more agitated and uneasy

Alannah becomes transfixed by chaos

Loosens up which is seen as she takes swig from the bottle Fianna was drinking

Eats the chips off of the ground

Starts to drink more and smoke without trying to hide it

Stabs DA (character shift) - this is the turning point for Alannah and how she breaks out of the innocent, quite and polite shell she was living in

Becomes wildly drunk

Changes completely from who she was at the start as she now wishes pain on DA when before she was too afraid

FIANNA -

Aggressive behaviour from the beginning

Forward and confronting “i’m not gonna hurt ya, i’m just gonna bash your face in”

Expressive of her emotions

Fianna switches from chaotic character to being the character with their head screwed on when Alannah becomes erratic

DA -

Paralysed

Gunshot wounded

Bleeding out fast

Bossy

Rude

Controlling

Becomes legless after Alannah saws his legs off

Non responsive

Manipulative

COSTUMES:

ALANNAH -

Hair in Scrawny little bun

Puts a pair of marigolds on

Becomes covered in Da’s blood

FIANNA -

Wreath around neck

Dirty boots

Tattoos

Leather

Big hair

Denim

Gun

Cigarettes

Becomes covered in Da’s blood

LAYOUT OF SET:

Isolated farmhouse - refurbished in 70’s-80’s

Cream laminate cabinets, wooden table matching chairs, pale tiles, modest stove

Stage left door to outside world, with a small telephone table and mirror hanging above

Downstage right staircase and hallway covered by curtain

Upstairs over the sink, large window that stares out to darkness

Uncomfortably clean

Muggy

Shiny worktop

New wallpaper

Pristine

Toilet down the hall

Everything within the cupboards is colour coded

No bin inside

Chair that Da is sat on

Candles scattered across the room

PROPS AND USES:

Rock thrown through window

Stove - Alannah cleans it precisely and intensely

Eight packets of crisps which are referred to as sad crisps

Incense is lit becomes extinguished by Fianna

Rock smashes window (page 40)

Alannah slices bread - burns it

Gun in Fiannas pocket

Cigarettes DA rolls

Bottle of rum in wine glass

Alannah tops up drink, slices apple

Telephone - Alannah picks up, pauses, puts it down

Pipe on the table

Fianna has a chainsaw

Alannah drinks rum from the bottle

Alannah puts pot on stove

Fianna plays banjo

Fridge freezer stores a CD

Knife used to stab Da

Coin (heads + tails)

Glass of cold water (To revive DA)

SLK riffle at Alannah's head

Petrol bomb

LIGHTING:

Night (dark) - act 1

Occasional search light outside - Act 1

Weather begins to get worse, begins to get even darker

Cloudy weather outside

Light flickers - Page 76

Light flickers - Page 80

Light flickers - Page 88

Black out

Candle light

Candles go out

Flash of light - Page 114

Black out - End

MEDIA REFERENCES:

Thunder crackling (Act one)

Helicopter sounds over head

Frog croak

“Some say the Devil is Dead” The Wolfe Tones

Window smash

The Shining

The Poltergeist

Fire alarm

Frog croaks again pg 51

Flush of toilet

Knocking from upstairs pg 57

Africa by ToTo plays pg 60

Both Fianna and Alannah sing

Music volume increases (come on feel the noize by quiet room plays)

Roof hammers

A gunshot pg 72

Water splashes onto floor

Telephone rings

Frog croak pg 75

Thundercloud breaks“Africa” TOTO

Turns of music

“You’ll never get away from me” by Tony Bennett plays

Turns music off

Storm raging on

Demented noise, from “Alligator wine” by screaming Jay Hawkins

Carrie

“O-O-H child” The Five Stair steps

Noises upstairs, noise upstairs stops

Pan smashes to the floor

Soldiers radio, speech and the static

Thud from upstairs, house shakes

Crackling on radioHouse shudders

Blood dripping

Predatorily breathing

Female screen from cassette player, scream melts away

Helicopter sounds overhead

Frog croaks

Chainsaw

EXTERNAL REFERENCES:

Set rural Camlough, south armagh northern Ireland 1989

Tayto Cheese and Onion crips

Superking Menthol Cigarettes

Ireland

Bible verses

Paras

G&T

The Clangers

Jay Hawkins

Armagh Jail

Newry canal

Chinless wonders

Armagh

Rachel O’Briain

Rachel Devlin

A Nightmare On Elm Street

Quiet Riot

Bible verses

Asmat tribe

Leviathan crocodiles

One Eyed Willie

Billy Connolly

IRA

Colossians: chapter three, verses twenty-two

Hitler

Bible verses/prayers

Children of the Corn

Brits

South Armagh, North Ireland

Corinthians: Chapter Eleven, Verse Eight

Empress Jaro

Psalms

MUSICAL REFERENCES:

The first song mentioned it Africa by TOTO. "Africa" is a song recorded by the American rock band Toto in 1981, for their fourth studio album Toto IV, and released as the album's third single on September 30, 1982, through Columbia Records. The song was written by band members David Paich and Jeff Porcaro.

Lyrics:

I hear the drums echoing tonight But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation She's coming in, 12:30 flight Her moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation I stopped an old man along the way Hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies He turned to me as if to say "Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you" [Chorus: Bobby Kimball] It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do I bless the rains down in Africa Gonna take some time to do the things we never had [Verse 2: David Paich] The wild dogs cry out in the night As they grow restless longing for some solitary company I know that I must do what's right As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti I seek to cure what's deep inside Frightened of this thing that I've become [Chorus: Bobby Kimball] It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do I bless the rains down in Africa Gonna take some time to do the things we never had [Bridge] Hurry boy, she's waiting there for you [Chorus: Bobby Kimball] It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do I bless the rains down in Africa I bless the rains down in Africa I bless the rains down in Africa I bless the rains down in Africa I bless the rains down in Africa Gonna take some time to do the things we never had

The second song to be mentioned in the play is Cum on feel the noize by Quiet Riot. Quiet Riot is an American heavy metal band founded in 1973 by guitarist Randy Rhoads and bassist Kelly Garni. The band is ranked at No. 100 on VH1's 100 Greatest Artists of Hard Rock

Lyrics:

[Chorus] Come on, feel the noise Girls, rock your boys We'll get wild, wild, wild Wild, wild, wild [Verse 1] So you think I got an evil mind I tell you, honey I don't know why I don't know why So you think my singing's out of time It makes me money I don't know why I don't know why Anymore, oh no [Chorus] So come on, feel the noise Girls, rock your boys We'll get wild, wild, wild Wild, wild, wild Come on, feel the noise Girls, rock your boys We'll get wild, wild, wild Baby! [Verse 2] So you say I got a funny face I got no worries And I don't know why I don't know why Oh I gotta sing, it's some disgrace I'm in no hurry And I don't know why I don't know why Anymore, no, no, no [Chorus] Come on, feel the noise Girls, rock your boys We'll get wild, wild, wild Wild, wild, wild Come on, feel the noise Girls, rock your boys We'll get wild, wild, wild, baby Come on! [Guitar solo] [Verse 3] Well, you think we have a lazy time You should know better I don't know why I don't know why So you say I got a dirty mind I'm a mean go-getter I don't know why I don't know why Anymore, oh no Come on, feel the noise Girls, rock your boys We'll get wild, wild, wild Wild, wild, wild Come on, feel the noise Girls, rock your boys We'll get wild, wild, wild Oh, wild Come on! (Come on!) Feel it! Come on! (Girls, rock your boys) Work it! We'll get wild, wild, wild (We're gonna get wild) Wild, wild, wild (We're gonna get wild tonight) Come on, feel the noise (Rock it tonight) Girls, rock your boys We'll get wild, wild, wild (Oh, yeah) Ah, ah-ah ah-ah (Whoo!) Ah, ah, ah Come on, feel the noise Girls, rock your boys We'll get wild, wild, wild Ah, ah-ah ah-ah Ah, ah, ah

The third and final song reference made in the play is You’ll never get away from me by Tony Bennett. Anthony Dominick Benedetto (born August 3, 1926), known professionally as Tony Bennett, is an American singer of traditional pop standards, big band, show tunes, and jazz. He is also a painter, having created works under his birth name that are on permanent public display in several institutions. He is the founder of the Frank Sinatra School of the Arts in Astoria, Queens, New York.

Lyrics:

You'll never get away from me You can climb the tallest tree, I'll be there somehow True, you could say, "Hey, here's your hat" But a little thing like that couldn't stop me now I couldn't get away from you Even if you told me to, so go on and try Just try and you're gonna see How you're gonna not at all get away from me Rose, I love you, but don't count your chickens Come dance with me I warn you, that I'm no Boy Scout Relax awhile, come dance with me So don't think that I'm easy pickin', the music's so nice Rose, 'cause I just may some day pick up and pack out Oh, no you won't, no, not a chance No arguments, shut up and dance You'll never get away from me You can climb the tallest tree, I'll be there somehow True, you could say, "Hey, here's your hat" But a little thing like that couldn't stop me now I couldn't get away from you Even if I wanted to well, go on and try, just try Ah, Rose and you're gonna see Ah, Rose how you're gonna not at all Get away from me

SPACE CHANGE REFERENCES:

Uncomfortable clean space “shinny, perfect”

Window in kitchen becomes broken from a Fianna throwing a rock through

Floor tiles become muddy from Fianna’s boots

Fire alarm ripped from the ceiling

Becomes smoky from cigarette

Pipe on table- Page 73

Smell of burnt bread

Table moves and becomes dirty as Fianna stands on it

Alannah opens all the cupboards

Crisps opened and crushed all over the floor

Hallway door opens as Da comes in

Blood begins pooling out onto the floor

Pot brewing on the stove

Da slumped in a chair in the corner, legless

Blood spilling out onto the floor

Stew all over the floor and pan is knocked over

Smokes comes out from the curtain

Leviathan crocodile in room

Smoke billows from behind the crocodile

Cupboard door is ripped off to barricade window

PHRASES/SLANG/TERMS:

Craic

Sacred heart

Mother Superior

Wreath off a hearse

Crown during The Famine

Dirty we tout

Firebug

Hold on a tick and a half

Okey dokey

Daft eejit

Crocodile tears

ALANNAH -

Polite “please, Thank you”

“Flipping sake”

“Oh whoop-dee-flippin-do”

FIANNA -

“Some say the devil is dead

“Thanks be to god”

“Pot fucking kettle, gin eyes” pg 43

“Taking the mick” pg 45

“Ireland, through us summon her children to her flag and strike for freedom”

“See you later alligator, fuck off crocodile”

“So you think i’ve got an evil mind (quiet riot)

“Ye daft cunt”

THEMES/GENRES:

References to mental illness such as OCD

Black comedy

Stockholm syndrome

Sister relationship

Reference to domestic abuse and pedophelia

Sexism

REFERENCE IMAGERY:

70′s Kitchen:

70′s Wallpaper:

Farmhouse:

Crocodile:

Lighting:

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cebty · 4 years

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Bueno si, no tengo la sonrisa bonita y tampoco la cara. No soy “normal” porque a veces si quiero soy la persona más rara o loca que puede existir. No soy perfecta, soy muy imperfecta, quizás un día te diga q estoy bien pero a los minutos no lo estaré. Mi corazón sabe de razón y si me dan razones para querer, lo haré con toda mi alma. Leí muchos libros, y eso hace que tenga una mente muy llena de fantasías, quizás hasta flashe. Soy divertida cuando quiero y una odiosa del orto si me lo propongo. No sé bailar, doy un asco bailando, pero cuando quiero, pongo la música alta y me imagino en un escenario, y bailo mientras cierro los ojos. Me da temor muchas cosas, pero igyal las hago. Me gusta muchísimo comer cosas dulces o chatarras, aunque a veces me angustio por las calorías igual disfruto. Soy muy simple, amo tomar mates con tortilla o pan, mientras el solcito me da en la cara. No soy hermosa, lo sé. Pero tengo cosas que quizás no se, no se encuentran en otras personas?

#giladas

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chinawof · 4 years

Text

First Kicks | Self Para

@hemsworthitmate

Yesterday had been emotional, for whatever reason, she couldn’t quite place it. Still, it had been odd but nice to be back in her family’s LA home. It was familiar, comfortable, and warm, contrary to her harsh reminder that she wasn’t welcome or wanted there - in a sense - but with her family locked down in Georgia for a while longer, China knew they would never have to know she had been there.

Aside from a few missing things in her’s and Lauryn’s bedroom, of course.

China had gone with the intention of taking a box or two of her things, and maybe some clothes for when she would fit in them again, to have in their new home in Atlanta, but it seemed more difficult than that.

There’d been an overwhelming amount of memories and photos around the place, and it took all of half an hour of them arriving before she was a crying mess on her old bed.

Thankfully Liam was there, the support she needed. With calm words, strong arms, kisses, and distractions.

By the time she’d settled there was a small pile of her belongings in a cardboard box, each ones memory that had come attached told with a soft smile and a glint in her eyes as it was tucked away to come home with her.

Her efforts simmered down a little the later it grew and tiredness came along with it. Chi hadn’t even remembered to send Sof and Boo a message to let them know they’d probably not make it back tonight before she was fast asleep in her favourite place in the world; against Liam’s chest.

She awoke a few hours later to the sound of snores. The pups and Liam also fast asleep around them, the little family unit they were. For now, satisfied and happy, she let herself drift back off, one hand on the growing bump of her stomach where their son rested, the other over Liam’s chest where she could listen to his heartbeat.

The next time she woke was to a different sound, but this one was slowly becoming her new favourite. Sun was streaming in through the windows and she could feel two carefully placed hands on her stomach accompanied by gentle whispers in a strong, Australian accent.

Her smile grew, but she tried to keep as still as possible so as not to disturb Liam and Bean’s bonding time, which, she realised, hadn’t worked to plan, because the whisper of, “Hey, mama’s up,” met her ears.

China let her eyes slowly come to rest on Liam’s blues, giving him a wide smile before there was a yawn and a hand rubbing sleep away from her eyes, “What time is it?”

“Eight.” Liam answered, but still hadn’t moved from where he was or what he was doing, which made her laugh a little.

“Shall we get breakfast, or are you busy talking away there?” Chi rolled her eyes and chuckled a little more.

“We were having a great conversation,” Liam feigned hurt, followed by a laugh of his own.

“I’m sure you were, even if it was very one sided,” Chi still didn’t move. Neither had he, hands firmly in place. She moved her own to gently hold his. Her thumb running over his fingers.

She had worried, for a little while yesterday, that something could be wrong with Bean; he’d been a lot calmer than his usual swimming around in there. The butterflies and small movements hadn’t happened at all yesterday, but she tried to forget her worry; if something was wrong, after all, she would know about it. Or so she hoped.

There wasn’t much time to dwell, as her stomach gave a rather loud grumble that brought a redness to her face with the embarrassment.

“I think mama’s hungry,” Liam spoke to her stomach, a chuckle and a glance to China who found her hands moving quickly from Liam’s to hide her face.

“We missed dinner, okay. It’s not my fault.” She defended, muffled by her hands. They moved away slightly to glance at Liam when she felt him lean down to press a kiss to the bump protecting their Bean, before he moved at last to join her at her side, a kiss to her hands before she moved them and he pressed a kiss to her lips.

“We did. Bean was just complaining about it all to his dad,” he told her proudly, earning him a cock of her eyebrow in questioning, but there was a sparkle in his blues and a silly smile on his face that she loved so dearly.

“Oh, he was?” She laughed, and lent up to steal a kiss of her own.

“He was,” Liam nodded, their foreheads still touching before he kissed her a little bit more passionately this time.

There was an array of memories of the two of them fervently making out that flashed through her mind as they kissed for a moment. All interrupted by another stomach growl, this time followed by Chi giving a small groan of frustration and an apologetic bite of her lower lip.

“Food first, fun second?” She offered. Normally it would have been odd to even think about doing those things with Liam in her family home. But they’d been at Boo and Sof’s for so long now and hadn’t had much of them time to do that; mostly because Chi didn’t want to do that within her friends’ home. But frustrations were a thing, and apparently they needed it.

This time Liam kissed her forehead and nodded. “Definitely,” He agreed and stood from the bed before her, offering a hand to help her up to her feet; slowly and gently so she didn’t make herself dizzy or stumble.

They found their way into the kitchen, China trying to remember what was where, and what they could throw together in a way of breakfast. Anything perishable was long gone from the house, but she found some ‘just add water’ pancake mix and a few tins of different fruits to go with it. It’d do, at least, for the time being.

While Liam worked on making pancakes, China opened the back door at last to let Dora and Delta outside to get some air. She laughed as Delta clung onto one of Cujo’s toys, carrying it around with pride in place of her ducks that, once again, mama had forgotten and left at The Cave.

Chi took some deep breaths of air, welcoming in the morning dew of the grass which looked like it had been rained on the night before, before she headed inside to help out with breakfast, opening the fruits and making a weird mix of a fruit salad whilst she watched Liam with the pancakes.

He was talking to her as he cooked them, trying to tell her little instructions on how to pour them just right and when to turn them over in the pan so they didn’t burn - like she had a habit of doing. Chi smiling as she watched him looking so comfortable and happy.

Delta and Dora eventually wandered into the house again, probably looking for their own breakfast. China moved from the counter to get Cujo’s bowls from his mat and set up some food and water in them and two normal bowls so the pups could eat.

Liam glanced at her as he realised what she was doing, finishing putting the last of the pancakes onto plates for them. She gave him a grin, taking the bowls of water and setting them down first, petting the two pups heads as they eagerly moved to have a drink, before she took their food and set it beside the bowls of water.

Straightening up wasn’t quite an easy thing to do any longer, her back was aching, but it wasn’t uncommon now. Chi pressed a hand to her lower back and helped herself straighten up, her eyes locking onto Liam’s as he set their plates on the table.

Just then something weird happened.

There was a feeling in her lower stomach. It wasn’t the butterflies she had been feeling for a while now. It wasn’t nausea. Or even hunger. It was quick, powerful... and most definitely, China realised, a kick.

Her hands moved to cradle her growing bump, eyebrows knitted in confusion at the feeling, tears in her eyes because that meant he was okay. And... she felt him. Properly felt him, for the first time.

She was so taken aback she didn’t realise Liam worriedly crossing the kitchen to her side, or the hand on her lower back supporting her, until she heard him speak close to her ear. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I... um,” China looked up, damp brown eyes locking onto his sapphire ones, “I think he was saying hello?” She let him know, before a teary smile broke out onto her face. Liam looked her over, still worried, and Chi realised he hadn’t gotten what she meant, so she added a soft, “I think... I just felt him kick.”

“Really?” Now there was a sparkle in his eyes and his own grin as Liam’s hands found hers. A joy there she remembered from when they were in Australia when he first found out about the baby. God, she knew, he was going to make a wonderful papa.

She gave a nod after a moment, her eyes cast down to their joined hands on the bump. “I think so,” she whispered out, a shake to her voice from the tears that hung in her eyes.

“Think he will do it again?” He asked her, a hopeful side to his tone, almost filled with a childish excitement China couldn’t wait to see in her son when he was old enough.

“Maybe,” She surmised. She guessed, eventually, that he would anyway, after all, once it started, China knew he wouldn’t stop with the kicking now until he was born, “It’s probably all the excitement built up from papa’s stories this morning,” Her grin was unmistakable, and as she looked to Liam, a tear slipped out of her eye that she quickly wiped away, leaving only his hands resting there.

“Or he’s as hungry as his mama is and he isn’t happy about it,” Liam laughed, but didn’t move. His eyes didn’t falter. His hands staying firm in case he missed it.

“I’d kick and scream too if we didn’t have pancakes to look forward to,” Chi nodded in agreement, eyes looking to their plates awaiting them, but it happened again. Stronger, lasting a little longer this time. “Oh,” She let out from the sudden weird feeling, her eyebrows pressed together as her hand moved again to the bump, this time landing atop one of Liam’s where she’d felt the kick.

“Was that...?” He trailed off and looked to her.

“Uh huh,” Chi nodded, hoping maybe he had felt it, too, but there was a softening of his eyes that told her he hadn’t. Not yet, anyway. “He’s probably too small yet for you to feel it,” She softly spoke, almost upset at his disappointment. They knew it wouldn’t be a them experience for a while, definitely still a few more weeks according to the books Liam had given to Chi to read, but it still didn’t stop them wanting Liam to feel the movement.

“Of course,” Liam nodded, and his disappointment slipped away into a gentle smile, “Which is why we need to make sure he’s fed so he can grow all kinds of stronger for me to feel it.”

China laughed, glad the tension had gone, “You’re right. We do need to eat,” she agreed. But before she moved away, her hand gave his a squeeze of reassurance. “Once we’ve eaten why don’t we head back and see if the gel arrived, hmm? Maybe we can catch him on that new scanner of yours doing his kicks,” Chi smiled at the thought; at least if he couldn’t feel it, he could watch it happen.

From the lighting up of Liam’s eyes, she guessed it was enough to build his excitement back up, “I like that plan,” He agreed.

“Me too,” China stole a quick kiss and after a moment they moved to the table.

The dogs, who had been watching them both the whole time returned to eating their own breakfast, too.

#(first kicks; self para.)#(as soon as I saw you; I knew a grand adventure was about to happen | baby c.)#(share my everything | mcclaimed.)#(para.)

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