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wardenparker · 2 months

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Bones Full of Words, ch 3

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 10.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia (sometimes internalized and sometimes not), canon typical violence* Mentions of Helena's assault and recovery, snooping, assumptions, jumping to conclusions, mention of death, drunken silliness, secrets. Summary: In the aftermath of Helena's attack, you and Javier do your best to take care of her. But it leads to butting heads, accusations, and an uncomfortable revelation from your mutual friends. Notes: Thank you all so much for your wonderful response to this story so far! I'm glad to hear people are enjoying it!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

Whatever Javier had to do at the embassy, it's none of your business. Helena sleeps while he takes care of it, she sleeps while you're at your apartment packing a bag, and she's just waking up when you return to the apartment to the sight of Javier Peña shoving his gun in the back of his pants.

Stake out, he explains gruffly, and then tells you to order some food for dinner after pointing to the drawer in his kitchen that holds extra cash and a few take out menus from local restaurants.

Helena had slept through his own watch over her. Letting Javi sit and shed a few, swiped away tear in peace. Quietly asking her for forgiveness that he did not deserve. He shouldn’t have pushed her for information, shouldn’t have asked her to risk everything for him. Not when he could give her nothing in return. He was still being denied a visa, leaving her abandoned here as a casualty of this vicious war.

"She'll be okay." You wouldn't condescend to say we and include yourself in the thought, knowing that Peña doesn't give a shit about you or even really know you from a whole in the wall. You're here to take care of Helena and that's rightfully what he cares about. "Go do whatever you have to do."

Your tone is one that rubs him the wrong way. It’s judgmental, grating. As if you know his part in Helena’s tragedy and view him as no better than the men who had abused her. “Thank you for your permission.” He grouses, frowning as he strides out of the kitchen. “I didn’t realize I was fucking married.”

"Asshole." Grumbling at his back as he heads for the door, you huff and shake your head before turning back to the guest room where Helena is staying. He probably heard you. You might even hope he did. But it doesn't matter, you're not here to make a new best friend. You're just caring for one under his roof.

When you see Helena is finally awake again, you smile from the bedroom door. "Hey sleepyhead." A soft, gentle teasing. Helena usually likes it when you joke with her. "Can I get you anything? Another pillow? A glass of water?"

“I— I don’t know.” She admits quietly. She’s been given good painkillers at Javier’s insistence, but they have been leaving her groggy. “How long was I asleep?”

"Most of the day." But you smile and lean against the doorframe, glad to see her slightly less out of it this time. "I'll get us some water and I'll come and sit with you. How does that sound?"

“You should go home.” She frowns slightly and winces because it pulls at the cuts. “I know you are busy.”

"I'm not too busy for you." That, at least, is the absolute truth. "Sorry, beautiful. But you're stuck with me for at least a few days." Blowing her a kiss from the doorway, you knock softly on the dark wood and step back. "Water. I'll be right back."

Left by herself, Helena closes her eyes again. Unsure of why she thought she had heard Javi’s voice when he’s not here. Wondering if you’ve discovered the secret that she’s kept from you.

Within a minute you're back again, carrying two bar glasses of cold water and settling yourself in the chair beside her bed before handing one over. "Are you relatively comfortable?" You ask, ready to pop up and fix anything she needs.

“I’m fine.” It’s a lie, but she isn’t going to run you ragged because of what happened to her. She takes the water and gratefully sips, feeling like her mouth is dry and her throat rough.

“With all the love in my heart, I don’t believe you.” You shoot your friend a grin and stand up again. “Pillows? Blankets? I can open the windows if you want some fresh air.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “Open the window.” She gives in after a moment. “But there is nothing you can do for me, really.”

“I can sit and keep you company.” There is no possibility that you’ll ask her what happened. Her discharge paperwork from the hospital told you everything you need to know and more, and you will not make her talk about that. Not ever. If she chooses to open up about it that is up to her. In the meantime, the least you can do is open a window, so you pop out of your chair to do that. “Javier had some work to take care of so it’s just you and me for a while.”

She sighs softly and looks over at the window as you open the curtains before throwing it wide to let the fresh air in.

“There we go.” The smile you offer her is as soft as it can be, and you wipe your hands as if it was a job well done. “Much less stuffy.”

She doesn’t say anything, just nods and drinks down the rest of the water. Finishing the glass quickly and setting it down.

“Would you…” Shifting slightly, you look over at her again and bite back any kind of tone whatsoever that could upset your friend or make her think you’re judging her in the least. That couldn’t be further from the truth. “Prefer if I left you alone?”

“I don’t know.” She admits softly. “I feel…numb.”

"That sounds...pretty fair, honestly." Though you nod vaguely, you pick up her empty water glass from the nightstand and hold it up like a salute. "I'm going to grab you some more water and we can just sit if you want to. No need to talk or anything. Just...be. Or if you want to be distracted, we can do that, too. Even if it only helps for a few seconds, that's better than nothing."

"I think I want to sleep again." Helena admits, feeling a little ashamed of that. It’s blissful in that deep sleep from the painkillers. No thoughts or dreams.

“Then you should get some sleep.” You nod again, more purposefully this time, and pick up your glass along with hers. “I’ll leave you a fresh glass by the bed, and I’ll go read my book in the living room. Nice quiet apartment, no surprises or anything. Just enjoy your rest.”

"Thank you." Her thanks is whispered, her eyes already closing as she slips back into sleep. She's exhausted and feeling like no matter how long she sleeps, it will never be enough. Not after what she's been through.

Water for the two of you. That happens first. And then you half close the door to the guest room that Helena is in and take your book out to the sunken living room. You guess you’ll just…sit and read until you get hungry or until Helena needs something. Or maybe it’s the perfect time to work on your column since you have the quiet of the apartment to work in.

******

“So you have the girl and someone else in your apartment?” Steve asks, looking over at Javier still wearing his sunglasses despite the sun going down. “Yeah.” He grunts, shrugging slightly and trying to shove down the annoyance at the simple question. “American too. Don’t know why the fuck she’s involved.” He had questions, but he wasn’t going to ask Helena them right now.

“There’s a complete stranger in your apartment taking care of your injured informant and you don’t even know why she’s there?” Steve’s leans back in the driver’s seat of the car as they stake out some nightclub supposedly being used as a stop point for money and supplies by some of the sicarios in the area. Tonight is Surveillance before they get into the thick of it. “Very thorough, Jav.”

“It’s not like she’s a fucking spy for Pablo.” Although, now he’s frowning because he hadn’t had time to clear away the tapes he had gotten. They are still sitting out on the coffee table.

“That you know of.” Murphy snarked, smirk curling the corner of his mouth. He had already called in a background check on you to the embassy when Javi got out of the car to take a leak, but the chance to fuck with his partner was never a thing Steve Murphy could or would give up.

His jaw tightens, his glare deepening slightly as he stares at the door to the club. “Pay attention.” He huffs. “And fucking practice your goddamn Spanish.”

“Cranky.” He chuckles, pleased with himself as he sips from his coffee cup.

Huffing, Javi doesn’t dignify Steve with an answer. Instead he leans forward when someone approaches the door. “Who the fuck is that?”

“6’1”, about…thick build…American clothing…” Steve reaches for the binoculars as quickly as possible and grunts. “CIA,” he grumbles. “I’ve seen that guy around the embassy.”

“The fuck is this fucker doing here?” Javi hisses, leaning forward and instantly not liking this fucker. Something about him rubs Javi the wrong way.

“Looks like he’s chatting with the bartender.” Steve reports, thanks to the large picture windows of the club.

Javi frowns, leaning back. “How the fuck does the CIA have a beat on this place?”

"Beats the shit out of me," the other man admits. "I'm surprised he knows which way his asshole points."

That is enough to give a small snort of amusement, motioning for Steve to take a photo. “The spooks hate when you get them.” He tells Steve.

"Fuck 'em." Steve snorts, aiming his camera and taking three shots just for good measure.

“That’s the spirit.” Javi leans back and watches the conversation carefully, wishing he could know what is being said.

"They're pal-y, but I wouldn't say she likes him too much," Steve observes after a few more minutes. "Her body language is real skeptical."

“I would be too.” He huffs and taps his phone on his thigh. He could make a call, make things difficult for the agent, but he would rather see what happens.

"She just pulled out an envelope from under the bar." Steve still has the binoculars pressed to his eyes and chews his lip for a moment. "Handed it to him. He looked excited for a second, but his face just dropped."

“Wonder what’s in the envelope.” Javi narrows his eyes as if he could see what was written on the paper he opened.

"Bad news whatever it is." The other man says, based on the way the CIA agent inside is now gesticulating exaggeratedly at the bartender.

“We could pay a kid to pick pocket him.” Javi suggests, glancing over at Steve.

Murphy smirks, eagerly sitting up in his seat. "What's the price of a pickpocket these days?"

“For you or for me?” Javi snorts as he eyes a group of almost teenagers grouped near a bodega a few doors down. “Stay here.” He tells his partner as he opens the door.

It's a fair point, but Steve still frowns reflexively as he watches his partner approach the group of kids. They chat for barely more than a minute, Javi shakes hands with one of them, and then he walks back to the car with a swagger in his stride.

Javi smirks as he climbs back onto the car. “Cost me ten bucks and he gets to keep whatever cash is in the fucker’s wallet.” He tells Steve.

Murphy's laugh is deep and true, an honest rumbling chuckle at the expense of the agent currently standing in the bar. "Nice touch."

“You get in your licks where you can.” The CIA has been a thorn in his side, obviously playing both sides and being so goddamn smug about it. Not caring about the lives being ruined by their involvement.

"Anytime we can kick a spook, I'm in." Murphy agrees, picking up his binoculars again.

The kid is good, Javi has to admit that. He doesn’t just enter the club and immediately make his way to the gringo. He scopes him out, obviously not his first time pick-pocketing someone. Javi chuckles to himself as he watches him circle around the bar.

It takes nearly ten minutes before the kid makes his way back outside. His hands are empty, of course, when he appears. Nonchalantly walking through the alley, he pulls the wallet from his pocket, slips the cash out, and tosses it down in the middle of the street directly beside Javi's car door as he continues on his way through the alley. The envelope protrudes from the top of the wallet, ready and waiting to be read.

Javi grunts, getting back out of the car and looking around before he leans down and scoops the envelope out of the wallet and leaves it there. Making sure he touches nothing else. He climbs back into the car and hands it to Steve before starting the engine. “Need to move.”

“Hell of an efficient system,” Steve snorts as Javi pulls the car away. He’s learned that there are things from his partner that he needs to ignore and things he very much ought to learn. Employing the talents of some local kids without being told off is definitely a skill to be learned.

"Gets things done." He circles the block and finds a spot on the opposite side of the street, away from the discarded wallet. If the CIA dick does realize he's been stolen from, they can claim they had nothing to do with it. "What's the letter say?" He asks.

“Alex,” he reads off the name in the greeting line of the note and shrugs. It’s a boring, normal name just like ‘Steve’ is. “Sorry I can’t meet you tonight. I’m helping out a friend who got hurt at work and need to stay with her overnight for the next few days. Beep me if you want to make some dinner plans this week, I might be able to swing it depending on how my friend is doing.” Steve reads off the pager number and name signed at the bottom of the page before holding it to to Javi with an expectant expression on his face.

“Motherfucker.” Javi hisses, recognizing the number and slapping his hand against the steering wheel.

“What?” Steve huffs, not wanting to admit that the reaction had made him jump a little.

He recognizes that number, has dialed it recently. “We’re done.” He decides, turning the key again. “We aren’t going to find shit here.”

“The fuck is going in, Jav?” His partner asks, tone turning serious.

“Nothing.” Javi snorts, shaking his head. “Fucking sicarios won’t be within ten miles of this fucking place.”

“You figure they’re all still in Medellín?” If He’s Honest, Murphy really doesn’t know what set his partner off, except the possibility of the weird circumstantial coincidence between whoever wrote this note and the girl staying at Javi’s—— “Oh fuck.”

He’s got to give it to Murphy, he’s not too dumb. “Fuckers.”

Murphy shifts in his seat, imagining the deeply fucking uncomfortable confrontation that will no doubt occur at his partner’s apartment in no more than a half an hour. “Do you want backup?” He asks, unsure how else he can help.

He doesn’t answer, just firing up the engine again and pulling away from the curb with a yank of the wheel. A fucking CIA informant is in his house. He knew the bastards played dirty, but this is going too far.

******

Helena sleeps most of the evening and into the night. You’ve got around a hundred pages of your book left but you e put it down in favor of picking up pencil and notepad to work on your article, though you know it won’t quite be what your editor had in mind. Next week’s column on the sacrifices made and abuses endured by the working girls of Colombia will be unusual by your paper’s standards. It’s all in service of the greater narrative.

By the time Javi drops Steve off and gets back to his apartment, he’s furious. Wondering what all your rifled through to report back to your boyfriend.

The door slams so hard it rattles the frame when he comes into the apartment, and you jump up from the couch in the living room with a start. “Quiet!” You hiss out to the entry hall, putting your hands up in case he’s forgotten you’re here. “Helena’s sleeping again.”

Javi rushes forward and grabs you, spinning you around and hauling you up against the wall. “Where is it?” He demands, his hands running over your body. “Are you fucking wired?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” You hiss back, shoving Javier off of you just as forcefully as he had come at you. The sheer definition of fight or flight has you giving his aggression back to him full throttle. “Be fucking quiet! She just got back to sleep!”

Javi stumbles back but grabs you again, shaking you. “You’re fucking spying on me!”

“What?” Shoving him away again, you put both hands out in a sort of unconscious show of innocence as much as trying to keep him away. “I’m not fucking spying on you!”

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” He hisses, narrowing a hot glare at you. “It’s just fucking coincidence you are passing notes to the fucking CIA?”

“What the fucking are you talking about?” The best that you can do right now to keep the sounds from carrying down the hall is to move this conversation into his kitchen so you stalk past him and motion sharply for him to follow.

He growls when you just slide by him like you own the fucking place. It makes him want to throw you out on your ass, but Helena asked for you.

“Tell me what the fuck you’re talking about,” you insist, crossing your arms in the middle of his kitchen.

“Don’t fucking play stupid, sweetheart.” Javi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “CIA is just fucking pissed off we’ve shut them out of the investigation. So what? They decided to send you when the opportunity presented itself?”

“CIA doesn’t know jack shit and I wouldn’t tell them anyway.” The people that you’ve met at the embassy from the CIA are…well, Alex is the very best of them. But you can’t see how he would know about Alex and you since he didn’t even recognize you from being around the embassy from time to time.

“Bullshit.” He grunts.

“I’m a fucking journalist, Javier.” You spit at him, disgusted with the boorish way he’s barreled into this line of questioning. “I know when to keep my fucking nose clean and I know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“A journalist?” He’s highly skeptical of that but it is plausible.

“I’m going to brush past the fact that we’ve passed each other in the embassy halls at least a half dozen times and you didn’t recognize me at all when we officially met.” That’s annoying, and embarrassing, but expected. Infuriatingly handsome men do not notice girls like you. “But yes, I’m a journalist. The human-interest side of the War on Drugs. Showing people the real face of what’s going on down here alongside all of the facts and figures that make up the cartels. I’m here to work, I’m not a fucking spy.”

He remembers seeing you in the Embassy now, he had thought you were a secretary. Your ass had looked good in that pencil skirt and pink blouse. “So what? You just happened to get in bed with the CIA?” He pulls out the note and holds it up.

“How the fuck did you get that?” Snatching the note away with quick fingers, you hold it like he might have somehow hurt the paper and huff in disgust. “Way to be fucking literal, Javier. I had a date with my boyfriend tonight that I had to cancel. Is that okay with you?”

He curls his nose, repulsed by the idea that you would date that guy. Confused as to why he would give a damn too. “So why is the goddamn bartender at the club we were staking out tonight passing that note to him?” He demands. “Fucking convenient.”

This time your forehead furrowed in genuine curiosity. “Why the hell are you stalking out my building?”

“Your building?” Now it’s time for Javi to look confused. “The fucking club was supposed to be an informal meeting for the sicarios tonight.”

“Are you kidding me?” Your eyes widen in shock. “I just—I live upstairs! The bartender—Inez has been my friend since I got to Colombia, that’s all. When I went by my place earlier to get clothes, I left a note for Alex at the bar with her.”

Javi’s hands go to his hips and he stares at you. Waiting for you to give him some indication that you are lying, but you don’t. You don’t shuffle or look off to the side. Your own gaze takes on a challenging glint and it’s him that breaks first, glancing down at your lips and then back up. “And how did you get tangled up with Helena?” He demands. “Ran into her at the bodega?”

“No.” When you shake your head it’s just a little thing. Just a small motion. “I’m…a client,” you admit, releasing the breath you were holding. “And a friend. But friendship came later.”

His brows shoot up, getting the last answer he ever thought he would hear. He had expected some vague explanation that would continue to fuel his doubts about your motives but his tense frame relaxes when he hears that you had rolled around in Helena’s bed with her. Instantly trying to imagine that scene and instantly feeling guilty for it because of the other woman’s recent ordeal. “Okay.” He says simply.

“If I had thought my personal bullshit mattered to anything, I would have told you.” It twists your stomach and punches your nerves in ways you don’t want to examine too closely, to find Javier Peña upset and angry at you. That’s not a feeling you’re going to give too much thought to if you can help it.

“Who you fuck isn’t my problem.” He holds his hands up, not judging you for wanting to have sex with Helena. “With women at least.” He snorts. “But fucking a CIA cuck?” He shakes his head. “That’s sad.”

“He’s nice to me.” It sounds like a poor defense when it comes out of your mouth, but it’s the truth. It’s only been a few weeks and Alex has been nothing but nice.

“Yeah.” Javi snorts again. “I bet.” He has a reasonable idea why he’s so nice to you and it has nothing to do with finding you attractive.

Your brow furrows more deeply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You live above a club that has been on the fucking watchlist for months.” He chuckles. “I bet there’s a great view of the entrance from your windows, isn’t there?”

The protest is on the tip of your tongue. It’s right there. Alex is a nice guy. He’s sweet and he never protests your weird hours. Or even insisted that you stop seeing the girls. “Yeah.” Your voice turned small and defeated. “Yeah…I guess there is.”

You seem to deflate and for a second, Javier feels that same nagging tug of guilt that he feels when he thinks of Helena. Like he's at fault. Instead of letting it linger, he shifts. "If you're going to be here, you don't pass anything to him." He tells you. "Or I'll have your visa revoked so fucking fast it'll take a week for your ass to catch up to it." He promises. "Doesn't matter how nice it is." He growls, turning around and stalking off.

“I wasn’t fucking going to.” You growl at his back, but immediately thump off to the guest room where Helena is sleeping so you don’t have to look at him.

Closing the door to his bedroom behind him, Javi sighs. closing his eyes as the tension from the past few days weighs him down. He needs a fucking break and this new discovery just makes him even more stressed. His cock twitches in his pants and he thinks about what he really needs. He needs to fuck and he reaches up to rub his neck, feeling the knot of tension there. Maybe Vanessa is back from Medellín.

******

You close the door of the guest room carefully behind you, working not to wake Helena up, until you turn to sit down in the chair beside her bed again and find her with her eyes open staring at the ceiling. “Hey beautiful,” you hum, instantly moving to her side. “How are you feeling?”

"The same." She admits softly. "Numb." She lifts her fingers and wiggles them slightly before she looks over at you. "Did I hear Javier?" She asks, hoping that he will come in and see her. That heavy feeling in her chest might disappear if he's in here.

“Um…yeah. He’s back.” The hope in her voice breaks your heart, so you try to excuse it as quickly as you can. Excuse him even though he doesn’t deserve it. “In a bad mood.”

She sighs softly. "Then he will be leaving again." She murmurs. "Finding Vanessa or Freckles for company."

“Is that what he does when he’s in a bad mood?” That makes you frown even more, imagining how he must treat them when he comes in angry.

She catches your frown and reaches over, touching your hand. "It's not bad." She promises you softly. "He has never left a bruise that wasn't wanted." She knows you are aware of some pleasurable bruises, you've left a few yourself. "He just....exhausts himself with us when he is worked up."

“I worry,” you admit, just as quietly, and squeeze her hand back. “Obviously. Worrying too much is why you had my beeper number.” Which, in turn, is evidence that you apparently worry just the right amount.

“Javi isn’t that type of man.” She murmurs. “He’s gruff, but kind. He’s wonderful.”

“You care about him.” She more than cares, that has always been fairly obvious to you from the time you’ve gotten to know her, but you never commented on it before.

“I do.” She sighs wistfully. “There was a time I imagined that he might be the one for me.” She admits quietly. “Even if we don’t share marks. But I know that is just a foolish dream.”

“Marks don’t have to determine your life,” you remind her, although you can’t say that you understand the affection for Javier specifically. Aside from being ludicrously sexy, you don’t quite get it. “People make their own decisions every day and are wonderfully happy with their lives.”

“I know.” She sighs and closes her eyes. “But that’s not possible in this case.”

"Nothing is impossible." That is something you have always believed in, but you try not to sound empty in your optimism. After all, life is hard as hell and sometimes things just don't go your way. But that doesn't mean good things can't happen.

“You are sweet.” She murmurs, squeezing your hand gently and then changing the subject. “Can I have some water?”

"Of course." Without hesitation, you hand her the glass you have handy on the nearby nightstand.

“Thank you.” She takes the glass and sits up to take a drink, the cuts and bruises on her body are raw and a contrast to her normally smooth and beautiful skin. “What do you think of him?” She asks after she has drunk her fill. “He’s wonderful, yes?”

"He is...opinionated." You state, trying for something diplomatic but having a feeling that you're falling far short.

She looks at you and the tiniest corner of her mouth inches up. “So he made a good impression on you?” Her tone says she knows otherwise and is amused by it.

"He's very sure of himself." That's your second try, but you know it's still not very good.

She gives as small laugh and then shuffles slightly. “I need to use the bathroom.” She admits quietly.

It's only a small effort to help her out of bed. Helena isn't incapable just a little woozy, but you steady her down the hall. It's apparent once you leave the room that Javier has, in fact, gone, and you hope like hell that Helena is right about him not overdoing it with the girls when he's upset. You'd rather stand in front of the man yourself and take a beating without fighting back than subject any of them to a single finger on them when they didn't want it.

Even though she didn’t need much help, she’s still tired and angry at herself for being that way. “This is ridiculous.” She hisses as you literally tuck her into bed.

“It will get less ridiculous every day.” Even though you’re not sure how many days it will take for her to feel better, or the degree of ‘better’ that each day will bring. You’ll be here for all of it.

“Will it?” She asks, her eyes veiled and guilty. “I don’t think it will.”

“It will.” Stalwart in your support, you sit down again and smooth out the surprisingly soft blanket on the guest bed. “It may not be quickly, and it will probably be hard, but it will get better.”

Helena knows that there will be a lot more she has to recover from that just the physical injuries. She still has to support her son and the only way she knows how to do that is by selling her body. “We will see.”

******

Since coming into this apartment you have felt nothing but frustrated and upset, so when you plop down on the living room couch again with your notebook in front of you to work on your article, you can't concentrate. There's crap strewn out on the coffee table, and while you had dutifully ignored anything that wasn't your before, now you're pissed at Javier.

His own sense of guilt had run him out of his own apartment. Irritating him even more when he sees the hurt in your eyes when you had accused him of not noticing you at the embassy. Leaving him once again, unable to clean shit up before he had hauled ass, an unfortunate result that he had to deal with until he returned. Hopefully you were telling the truth and you would keep your nose out of his shit.

The fact is, it is an accident at first. There is a stereo in the living room with a tape in the cassette deck and you just wanted to listen to some music quietly and try to clear your head.

The part that is your fault is that you didn’t shut off the tape when you heard Javier’s voice play out of the speakers.

“Listen.” Javier can see how nervous Helena is and the rasp of his hands stroking her arms comes through the recording. “I just want you to listen.” He tells her quietly. “Don’t ask questions. You smile at them. Take their money, and listen.”

Your blood freezes in your veins as you listen, and you shift forward on the couch with a frown etched on your face hoping that you’re hearing things incorrectly as the conversation goes on.

“Where are you going to be?” Helena asks, the pout evident in her voice. “I know I will have to shower, but I will need you to make me feel good after.”

Javi sighs softly. “We are booking a room at the hotel, making sure we can take photos of the sicarios and heads of the drug cartels as they come in.”

He put her up to this. He fucking put her up to this, the bastard. Whatever trouble Helena got into was at Javier fucking Peña’s request.

“Anyone I should go for?” Helena is eager to please, wanting to get as much information as she can to help him. Hoping that it will ease along her plea for a visa to the US.

“Don’t try to pick out someone in particular.” He warns. “Most of them are even more paranoid than the sicarios they have working for them.”

Fucking hell…he was even giving her directions. The sickening flip on your stomach deepens distinctly. How could she possibly still trust him after his instructions got her so hurt?

“Okay.” Helena agrees and there is the sound of a quick kiss. “I’m serious Helena. Don’t ask questions. Don’t let them think you know anything about them.”

Disbelief and anger flood your system, making you seethe as you sit and listen to Javier’s clearly concerned tone as he instructs Helena on how to collect information and her absolute willingness to go into danger based on blind affection.

Again there is another sigh. "You meet me when you’re done." Javi demands. "Two blocks over, when you leave, you come straight to me."

“Christ.” You mutter out loud, slamming your hand down in the cassette buttons to stop the horror from unfolding even further.

The doorknob rattles, a hissed curse and the sound of dropped keys is muted through the door. Javi doesn't exactly feel happy, but he's better now. A little less raw around the edges after spending a few hours with Freckles. He had seen Vanessa, reassuring himself that both women had come out of Medellín unscathed and told them about Helena. They had wanted to come back to the apartment with him, but he had promised he would let them over when she was up for more than an hour at a time.

The sick feeling in your stomach roils violently when you hear the door, and the faster you can get out of that living room the better. It isn’t running away, it isn’t fleeing, but it is certainly avoiding him. Avoiding him at all fucking costs while the only words you could possibly have will be the angry and screaming sort. For now all you do is retreat to your own guest room right next door to Helena, securely locking the door behind you. If he wants to speak to you — which he surely won’t — he can knock politely and get a denial. That’s all there is to it.

He's surprised to find the living room vacant when he opens the door. The lights are on, but no one is there. Glancing at the table, he tilts his head when he sees the tape player pushed slightly askew and he looks towards the closed bedroom door. Deciding that the best thing he can do is go to bed after the puts all that shit away.

******

The last time you talked to Javier was five days ago when you argued and he'd gone out the door in a huff. Since then you have made every effort to avoid him despite continuing to stay at his apartment, making sure that Helena is protected and cared for above all else.

It's been long enough that she's feeling physically better. While the mental scars may never completely heal, the best thing for them at this moment is good company. Today the apartment will be full of life and light for the first time in a whole damn week, as you clear the coffee table in Javier's living room and get out lunch things and a deck of cards for Freckles and Vanessa to come over and see their closest friend.

"I feel so much better after a shower." Helena admits with soft groan, running her fingers through her squeaky-clean curls, towel still wrapped around her nude body. While she had been cleaned up in the hospital and you had helped her for the past few days, this was the first time she had been able to linger in a shower and not worry about any cuts.

"Sometimes it's the little things that make us feel more human." You offer her a smile as she passes through the living room. "The girls should be here any minute. Do you want a cold drink?"

"I'd rather break into Javi's whiskey bottle." She admits with a small grin. She has been able to recover here a lot faster than she would have expected. Javi had been gone a lot, but she knows that he has been leaving her favorite fruits every morning for her. It's a sweet, and unnecessary gesture.

"Then that's what we'll do." Feeling no allegiance to the man whatsoever, you have no guilt opening that bottle for her benefit, and you wave her toward her room. "Pick out some clean clothes and I'll play bartender," you promise her.

“I’ll go get dressed.” She agrees, feeling better when she has that comfortable shirt on. She might have stolen it from Javier’s drawer in his bedroom, but it made her feel better.

It's really just bits of things that you assemble for lunch, but plates of cheese and fresh bread and juicy fruit and spicy seasoned meat are all piled high. And while you're sure that you could have attempted making arepas and the girls would all have been kind about it, you figured it was better to pop down to the stand on the street corner one block over and buy a stack of them from the cart owner. With everything out to pick on just as leisurely as you please, you plunk a deck of cards in the center and turn to mix cocktails while Helena gets dressed.

She pairs the shirt with a pair of shorts , looking in the mirror for only a second as she pulls her hair back, the bruises on her face garish shades of green and black. It still looks better than before so she counts herself lucky.

The buzzer goes off mere seconds after Helena emerges from her room, and you cross to the panel in the hallway to answer it. Freckles and Vanessa’s joyful voices are on the other end, and you buzz them up without hesitation. They deserve this time together, these three dear friends, and you’re grateful that they’re willing to let you stay and be a part of their liveliness in the process.

The knock on the door comes a few moments later since Javi’s apartment is on the second floor of the split-level building. Both of them still chattering happily when you open the door to let them in.

“It’s so good to see you.” There are hugs all around when you step back to let them inside, but Freckles and Vanessa look positively confounded to see you in Javier’s apartment.

“We didn’t expect to see you here.” Vanessa hums, and Freckles smirks slightly. “At least not now. In the future for sure.”

“Be…cause…all Americans in Bogotá know each other?” Clearly confused but shrugging it off, you wave them both into the apartment where Helena is emerging from her room and the living room table is set with food and drinks.

The attention turns to Helena and there are tearful hugs and caresses shared by the three women. “You poor thing.” Vanessa coos softly. “I was so worried until Javi called.” She confesses. “Bianca was killed, we had thought you-“ she chokes up and Freckles breaks in. “But you didn’t, you are here and as soon as you are able, we have decided that we are going to rent a house together.”

Bianca was killed. The words rattle through you as your three friends reunite, with the knowledge that one friend will never return home at all. It’s a sobering piece of knowledge, and one that ironically makes you reach for a glass of whiskey even faster than you would have otherwise.

Helena closes her eyes and tries not to cry. She knows too well that it could have happened with her, it honestly should have happened if it weren’t for Javi. “What about her friend?” She asks softly.

“Lorena is okay.” Freckles sits down on the couch beside Helena and takes her hand. “No one really got out without something happening.”

“We never should have gone to Medellín for that party.” She murmurs, although it wasn’t like they had much of a choice.

“What’s done is done.” Vanessa reminds her gently. “All we can do now is keep moving forward.”

“I’m glad we got out.” She admits, looking down at her hands. “Why do you want to rent a house?” She asks.

“We need a place to live that isn’t attached to all that.” Vanessa insists. She kisses your cheek when you hand out glasses but say nothing, not interrupting their conversation but helping them all relax.

“I think it will be good for us.” She admits after a moment. “And it would be good to be away from the brothel for the visa.”

"And it would be better to look for a job if our address is not a brothel," Freckles adds, shifting the weight of her glass between her hands.

“You want to get out?” Helena is surprised, since they both earned really well at the brothel.

“I want there to be the chance,” Freckles admits quietly, her eyes trained on the rug with guilt. “The money is good but…look at what has happened to all of us in the last few weeks.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa sighs softly. “Even if Javi can’t get you a visa, your son deserves to have his mother with him.”

“I’m not a miracle worker…” Sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, you survey your three friends with nothing but the deepest affection. “But I’ll help however I can.”

“You have your own things to worry about.” Freckles sends you a mysterious smile. “How is your story coming?”

“It’s…something I wanted to talk to all of you about,” you admit, but shake it off. “Later, though.” Helena had already agreed to be interviewed for your article with a further hope of being granted a visa under far less dangerous circumstances. “I think we all deserve a little time to be with our friends.”

“Of course.” Vanessa smiles. “We will drink Javi’s booze and we brought some food.”

“There’s lots of food.” Helena had teased you gently about playing hostess, but only out of love.

“Oh?” Freckles snorts. “Have you been treated like royalty?” She reaches over and squeezes her hand, knowing that she deserves it.

“Fuck no.” You snort and shake your head. “I went shopping to make sure we had nice things today.”

The other two women eye you with a small smirk. “Javi doesn’t keep a lot in the apartment?” She asks, even though she can guess the answer. Food is an after thought to Javier Peña. Well below pussy, cigarette, whiskey.

“I didn’t even ask about his stuff.” Not that you’ve said more than six different words to him in the last few days. No. The less you see of or speak to that infuriating man, the better.

“Uh oh.” Vanessa and Freckles exchange a laugh, having discussed several times how they felt you and Javi would clash. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“I’m sorry.” Shifting in your seat, you shrug a little as though you aren’t still deep attracted to the bastard and dealing with a weirdly nagging guilty feeling in the hollow of your chest. “I know you guys are friends with him but Javier’s been nothing but an asshole to me.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” Helena reaches for your hand. “But don’t hate him too much. He has a good heart. Truly.”

“If you say so.” Though it doesn’t make sense to you why they keep insisting you give Javier so much leeway.

“Well.” Freckles claps her hands together and changes the subject. “Why don’t we eat? I’m starving!”

“Absolutely!” Vanessa agrees, picking up on the tone, and all four of you dig in to the food that you’ve laid out for a lazy, social lunch.

There are crazy stories, jokes and laughter to be heard from the apartment. The four of you having fun and relaxing in a much needed get together. Helena forgets about her bruises and the other things that happened as she laughs at one of your stories and takes another sip of her drink.

Stories begin to roll out, about this and that and whatever, and soon the pack of cards is open and being dealt. It's not exactly a day for strip poker, but as the whiskey flows and the snack tidbits they're betting with become a pile in the middle of the table, and the group of friends somehow turn each winning hand into the ability to ask a question that all the others must answer on penalty of forfeiting some of their winnings.

Freckles rolls her eyes playfully as she huffs at Helena. “What kind of question is that?” She demands, even as she throws her cards back onto the pile. “You know the answer.” Helena snorts and wags her finger at her. “Then answer it.” Freckles laughs.

"I don't know the answer!" You remind them, pouting to insist that Helena reveals the identity of the very best lover she's ever had. The stories make you certain that it is most definitely not her son's father, but you have just enough whiskey in your system that you could not possibly guess who it will be. Most cohesive or logical thought has flown out the window like a particularly pretty bird.

She sighs and there is a guilty edge to the way her teeth work her lip between them. “I— for a woman….” She shrugs. “It’s you.” She admits, glancing back at you and holding up her hands. “I’m serious.”

"You don't have to say that just because I'm sitting here!" That can't possibly be true. Can it? Out of all the women in the world? "You're sweet to say it though, gorgeous."

“I knew she would not believe it.” Helena rolls her eyes and looks towards Vanessa. “It is true. She told me after the first time you fucked.”

“I guess I’m just eager to please.” Despite eating your fill, you definitely have a light head from the whiskey and end up giggling over the very idea that you are anyone’s best anything. It’s immensely flattering to say the least.

Freckles throws her head back and laughs. "The irony of this is just too much." She throws her arm around Helena. "You know this, right?"

“Irony of what?” You snort through another laugh. “That some chubby American girl is good in bed?”

Vanessa huffs at your description of yourself. "That is not nice to yourself." She tells you. "No, it's who her male best lover is."

You simply gloss over the protest of your self-description with the wave of a hand. “Unless it’s one of my brothers, I don’t see the irony.”

"Shhhhhhh." Freckles puts her finger to her lips and giggles. "She doesn't know."

“Don’t know what?” It feels like proof of your cluelessness that your head pops up and your brows knit in confusion, but you actually don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.

"They are so alike though." Helena sighs, almost mournfully, even though her heart would clench for both of you equally. "It's only fair that they share marks."

“Who does?” Just because you have mixed feelings about your own soulmate doesn’t mean that other people can’t want or be happy with theirs. You’re just not the girl who sat around twiddling your thumbs until your preordained match decided to come knocking.

"You." Vanessa giggles, biting her lip and leaning back so she can take another sip of her drink. "You and Javi." She coos. "Another great lover."

“Oh shut the fuck up.” The curse pours out in English and you sputter at all of them for a minute before switching back to Spanish. “You’re only saying that because I said he was rude.”

"Vanessa!" Freckles hisses, even though she is laughing because of the alcohol and the horror on her face. Helena pouts, still slightly upset that you don't believe her that you are a good lover. "It is true."

“Aren’t soulmates supposed to have an instant attraction or something?” But you did, you realize a moment later, and swallow the lump in your throat in horror. You’ve been attracted to Javier Peña since the second you saw him. Thinking he’s an insufferable egotist and finding him attractive are separate things.

"You don't find him attractive?" Helena is shocked, unable to imagine that. She's seen you looking at the one picture Javier has of himself in the apartment. It's a picture of him with his mother, before she got sick. He was twenty and it was before he had decided to grow a mustache.

“I mean…” Feeling like you’ve been caught in a trap, you squirm in your seat and shrug dramatically. “I guess? But it’s so much more about personality for me.”

"He is...complicated." She insists. "But he is not a bad guy."

“It’s not that I necessarily think he’s bad, it’s just that—” As easily as you had begun rambling, your mouth snaps shut again as you look between the other three women. Your friends. Your lovers. You lovers of several months at this point. And all of a sudden the clenching in your chest feels like betrayal instead of heartache. “How long have you known?”

All three women suddenly stop smiling, the humor slipping from their faces when they see how upset you are. "From the beginning." Helena admits quietly. "We have not said anything to either one of you until now."

“Why not?” It seems so important to have that piece of information about someone, and now you’re shifting in your seat all over again.

"Because both of you seem so..." Freckles shrugs. "Indifferent to the idea of a soulmate." They had all noticed that neither one of you seem particularly interested in finding that other person, despite them being so close.

“It still seems like something you should tell a person.” It’s not that you’re angry necessarily. You’re not. Just like you’re not excited or joyful at the fact. It’s more like…you’re frustrated that a piece of intimate knowledge about you yourself was kept from you by people you otherwise feel fairly close to.

“We were hoping you would find out naturally.” Vanessa adds. “You might not think so now, but you are Javi’s type.”

“You were hoping he’d just sweep me off my feet and we’d find out in a frenzy of torn clothes?” It’s such an unrealistic scenario to you. Starting with the very idea that a man as universally desired as Javier Peña would even look twice at you.

"We didn't know if you would meet at the embassy, or a bar, or even the brothel." Freckles snorts. "Although we had kind of hoped it would be at the brothel."

"You guys were just hoping to witness it for the gossip." It's the first wisp of a smile since they told you, and it cracks the frown on your face like a thin sheet of ice.

"I wanted to see the fireworks." Vanessa admits. "Because I know there will be some. You two are passionate people."

A barely perceptible puff of a huff comes from your lips, and you shrug while you settle back in your seat – along with the last long drink of whiskey from your glass. "Now instead of fucking, we might just kill each other instead."

“I think he would still fuck you.” This time with you and Javi in the apartment together has gone a long way to helping her put her feelings for Javi aside.

"Well, even if he did..." Your glass is empty, so you reach immediately for the bottle to pour yourself more. This is definitely more than a two-drink problem. "Even if he did decide he wasn't repulsed by me, we're constantly at each other's throats. It would never work."

“You haven’t seen the way he looks at you.” She murmurs softly.

"He doesn't look at me." Distance be damned, you shift forward and grab the whiskey bottle, pouring yourself another measure without guilt. "We don't see each other and we don't speak. Some fucking soulmates we are."

Helena snorts. “Every night, two-thirty on the dot, that man comes into my room.” She admits. “Sometimes I let him know I’m awake, but most of the time, I just pretend to be asleep.” She sighs softly. “He looks at you in that chair like you are a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. A mystery that is haunting him.” She nearly laughs, but it comes out breathy. “That’s what wakes you up when you fall asleep in that armchair, you know. It’s Javi coming into the room every night.”

"The only woman in the world who didn't instantly drop her clothes at his feet." It's only half a joke. Any of those times at the embassy, or outside the brothel, or any of those early days...you would have. You would have just been one of the many women mooning over him as he passed them by. You had been one of those women. Now you're so blinded by anger and frustration that you're basically hate-masturbating about him in the shower. Which is a whole other bag of worms that you aren't quite ready to open.

“He’s been turned down plenty of times.” Freckles snorts. “Hell, I turned him down to start.”

"You know what I mean," you mumble at them with a childish pout on your face.

“What happened to make you dislike him so much?” Vanessa asks, nosey about this hostility. Javi has never been overtly mean to any woman that she’s seen and she can’t imagine he would be to you.

"We got into some arguments when I first got here." Explaining what you heard on that tape -- while you were eavesdropping – feels too dirty. It makes you feel every bit as guilty of his bad opinion of you as he is of yours. "After basically the first day, we just haven't talked to each other."

“Emotions were high.” Freckles guesses, knowing that Javi has been feeling extremely guilty for what happened, even if all the girls were still going to go to Medellín even if he hadn’t known about it.

"What matters is that we got you home," you murmur, reaching over to gently touch Helena's arm and making sure she sees the gesture coming the whole time. She is understandably jumpy about sudden movements and touches right now.

“I’m here.” She murmurs. “I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”

“I’m always going to worry just a little bit.” She touches your hand briefly when you say it, just a gesture of understanding and affection, and you withdraw again so she doesn’t feel pinned down by the small gesture. And you realize in the same instant that despite continuing to drink you feel irrevocably sober. “That’s part of caring about my friends.”

“And we care about you.” Vanessa tells you seriously. “You have been the sweetest woman we have known outside of our own girls.”

“And you have all been just as sweet to me.” This one, rather large piece of information is the exception. This is the difference. The change. That they kept this from you. It isn’t that you want to run off into the sunset with your soulmate — that isn’t it at all. It’s that you….well, why do you care at all? The man is frustrating as all hell.

"I need to go to the bathroom." Helena announces and stands up, swaying slightly before waving off help and stumbling to the bathroom.

The remaining few of you are quiet for some time, contemplating your drinks or —Freckles and Vanessa’s preferred sitting position — cuddling on the couch. It isn’t until Helena has been gone maybe five minutes that you set your glass down and exhale slowly, like you’re gathering your strength. “You three really all think the world of him, don’t you?”

Vanessa hums, looking over at you with soft affection. "What we think doesn't really matter." She promises. "Maybe we fucked up by not telling you." She can admit that they were wrong, and that dropping that little fun fact wasn't the best idea when they've killed a bottle of Javi's whiskey. "You- we didn't want it to be strange for you. To know that we were all sleeping with your soulmate." She admits. "Some of it was selfishness. Most people don't like knowing the past of their person and we could lost both of you."

“Sex is different than love. They’re both important, but they’re different. Or at least not always intertwined.” They know that you feel that way. After all, you’re their client, too. And even with starting to see Alex, you hadn’t stopped. Not that you ever had any disillusion of loving Alex. Not for a second. “If I had even pretended to care who my soulmate slept with before me, I’d be an awful hypocrite.” You’re an awful hypocrite for caring who he loves before you too, you realize with a pang of guilt. But maybe it’s for the best that you distance yourself from the whole situation. “Can I ask…” you bite your lip. “Does he know?”

“We hadn’t breathed a word of it to either of you.” Freckles promises, shaking her head. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“It isn’t fair that he doesn’t know now,” you point out quietly, unsure how the man in question will react to this news. If at all.

“Well, I guess it’s now just a matter of who tells him.” Vanessa sighs. She knows what you might not believe, the moment Javier Peña knows who his soulmate is, he will stop seeing them.

“I don’t think it would be particularly welcome coming from me.” And he also deserves an explanation of why they never told him, but you won’t insist they give him that. It’s up to the three of them and him. You just can’t imagine that coming out of the guest room long enough to term the man you’re soulmates after not speaking to him for the better part of five days will go over well.

“You’ve never been curious about the small tattoo on your inner thigh?” She asks curiously. “Why an elephant?”

“Curious?” You shrug as though you hadn’t obsessed over it when it appeared. “I guess? I just figured the person liked elephants.”

“His mother loved elephants.” She had asked him about it one time and he had reluctantly told her the story.

“There we go.” You don’t really know what else to say to that. Your own tattoo is small but distinct and probably makes no sense to anyone but you. “Mystery solved.”

Freckles sighs, not exactly pleased with your nonchalance. It’s not like she can make you care. Helena comes out of the bathroom and she groans, putting down her own drink. “My turn.” She hums, needing to use the bathroom too.

It becomes a line, much to everyone’s amusement, and four women parade one by one to the bathroom beside the apartment’s living room. The mood lightens a little purely based on a change of topic, and you, Freckles, and Vanessa put all your attention on Helena’s readiness to go home.

“It will be good to be in my bed.” Helena admits with a small smile. “That bed is comfortable, but it is not mine.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” you nod, feeling the same way about the other guest bed versus your own comfortably soft mattress at home.

“You do not have to stay.” Helena murmurs, motioning towards herself. “I can move around. I’ve decided to tell Javier I will be leaving in a few days.”

“I’ll leave when you’re ready to.” The decision to stay for her was easy and immediate and so is this. You’re not leaving her while she might still need help. “Unless he kicks me out when you tell him. Which would be fair.”

She snorts softly, sure that wouldn’t be the case, but you seem to think there are no redeeming qualities to Javier. “Well, thank you.”

“He’s not going to kick you out, bonita.” Freckles promises, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “You’ll see.”

It’s like he’s been summoned by the conversation. It’s probably the first time he’s been home before dark in a week. Only here because both Vanessa and Freckles weren’t available and he wasn’t feeling like paying anyone else for their time. He had decided to come home and be moody in his own damn apartment so you could just deal with it. He paid the goddamn rent here. His key slides easily and turns in the lock since it wasn’t secured and he opens the door to find the women he had been look for sitting on his couch with Helena and you.

“Speak of the devil.” Freckles hums, popping up from her seat to go over and greet Javi when his figure appears, looming in the hallway.

“Ladies.” He shoots you all an almost self-conscious grin, caught a little off guard to have all of them here together. The remnants of food, booze and cards are still scattered, and he chuckles. “Throwing a party?”

"Helena was finally feeling up to having some more company." Freckles tells him, moving across the room to give him a kiss by way of greeting. "We may have snitched a bottle of whiskey to celebrate with."

Javi turns his mouth towards hers, not shy about accepting and deepening the kiss from the beautiful woman. There’s an easy intimacy with all of them, except you, that allows it. “I can tell.” He hums, amused when Vanessa almost stumbles behind Freckles. “You’re all shit housed.”

"Not all of us." Vanessa huffs, but giggles at herself as she nudges your side. "Somebody got serious and sobered up."

His eyes slide over to you, dark and searching before he looks back at Freckles. “One of you has to be responsible.” He hums.

"I'm just less drunk than these three," you point out, accepting Vanessa's kiss to your cheek as a measure of some kind of reassurance. "I wouldn't call this sober."

Helena comes over and slides her arm around Javi’s waist, she’s more comfortable when she’s making the gesture right now and it’s comforting to feel him immediately hug her close. “They have been wonderful.”

"You just needed a little girl time." Freckles hugs Helena and Javier both before moving away from his side. She sways slightly but it's less than she did on the way back from the bathroom so that counts as a win in her book.

“That’s good.” Javi’s hands are gentle as he holds Helena. “You doing alright today?”

"A lot better." She leans into his touch but doesn't push it further like she usually would. She's too acutely aware of you standing just a few yards away. "Thank you, Javi."

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He still feels guilty, but at least the haunted gaze has finally fled her eyes.

"I think I'll..." she swallows, but looks up to find his watchful eyes on her. "I'll head home in a few more days."

“You don’t have to.” He murmurs softly, frowning at the idea of her leaving before she’s ready.

"I know." Helena places another kiss on his other cheek and pats his chest, like she's reassuring not only him but also herself. "I'm healing, and stronger every day. And I miss my son."

"I'll be out of your hair as soon as Helena is ready to go home again," you tell him. These few minutes are the first you've even spent in the room with him in days, let alone spoke to him, and now it feels even more awkward since you know what you are to each other.

Now that it's in your head, you can't help but wonder. Wonder what the hell it is they see in him that seems to be so wonderful.

And wonder if you could ever see it, too.

Javi wants to be an asshole, the harsh words that have passed between you sit like another weight in his belly. He hates when a beautiful woman is mad at him, even if he doesn’t show it. It chews him up and makes him doubt himself. “I’m sure you will be happy to go home.” He offers quietly, figuring that might be less offensive than anything else he might say.

He’s found your paper after asking Coleen some questions and has been reading your articles. You’re fucking talented and witty in your stories, even if you’ve been given shit to write about. He’s got to wonder why you are here, and what you will write about next.

"Sure." You nod vaguely, but the sick feeling in your stomach says that you're not entirely sure. And doubt only makes the sick feeling worsen. "I miss my landlady's dog."

Javi nods. “Right.” He looks around at the other women and sighs. “Come on ladies.” He jerks his head towards the door. “I’ll give you a ride home. You’re too drunk for me to let you get home on your own.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo @missladym1981 @alexiamargot06

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña x plus size reader #plus size reader #Narcos #Narcos fanfic #soulmate au

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tokyo-debunker-idk · 3 months

Text

Crushed | 03

Summary: He's tried to convince Leo that you're a cool person, to which the former just scoffs and accuses Sho of having a crush. Honestly, the reaction is obnoxious – people of the opposite sex are perfectly able to have platonic friendships. Just because Sho's taken to bringing an extra lunch for you on training days so you can eat together after, and he enjoys spending time with you, and you're pretty and smell good even after an hour of sparring, doesn't mean he has a crush.

Pairing: Haizono Sho x Reader x Kurosagi Leo

Genre: Humor, romantic comedy, slowish burn, no real plot, Leo bullying

18+, minors DNI

~~~~~

"Besides, what are a few nobodies compared to the shit you've been dealing with anyway? You can handle it."

You finally realize what's been bothering you since you confronted Leo at the Vagastrom dorms (outside of the usual annoyance of Leo's general existence).

His response, despite his condescending tone… had been worded suspiciously like a compliment. Which, since it's Leo, means it probably wasn't.

"YoU cAn hAndLe iT," you mutter quietly to yourself, imitating the TikTok asshole's haughty tone. "Fuck off."

It makes you even more annoyed about the stupid sympathy that flared up when Leo mentioned death threats. He doesn't deserve your consideration, but your empathetic ass doesn't care about logical little details like that.

Sure, you've seen horrible comments and exchanges online in fan wars, but it's always been as a spectator. Receiving such disturbing messages personally, ranging from unhinged fans who call you ugly (whatever) to those that wish vile things upon you (less whatever) to others that send inappropriate pictures you wish you could unsee (your eyes, your poor non-quite-virgin eyes)… it's affected you much more than you would have expected.

For you it's mostly a weird blip in your life, and you can just deactivate an account you rarely used in the first place. Since you're stuck at Darkwick, it's not like your social life in the "real" world is exactly popping off, anyway. Despite logically knowing that nothing will happen to you, that the vitriol is being spewed by complete strangers who don't know you at all, you still feel shaken at the reminder that regular humans can be even worse than many of the anomalies you've experienced.

Even the sparse comments about you being cute together (which are repulsive in their own way, for obvious reasons) feel weird and invasive, as if you're their friend. It's like they think they know you, and that their opinion matters enough for you to hear it.

Leo deals with all of that constantly? Sure, he basically signed up for it and is apparently completely fine, but it still just… doesn't feel right.

Yeah, you dislike him, but he's not exactly evil. He's a douche who cares more about himself than anyone else, which is not a rare trait in the world. He just also happens to have brains and guts, without the morals that would keep him from using those around him.

So, a shitty guy, but not the absolute worst. At least, not evil enough for the insane hostility you received firsthand.

Then again, he's gotten those types of messages and was more than willing to put you in the line of fire. So maybe he is a little evil.

Why did he even post you to his TikTok as his girlfriend, anyway? For all his apparent dismissiveness of your capabilities, the guy is definitely way too vain to choose any random passerby, even if he later reveals it to be a joke. In its own fucked up little way, it's almost a compliment that he seems to think you're objectively attractive enough to be a believable partner to his audience.

Not that you're flattered.

Well… a small, petty part of you kind of is, because while Leo acts like a steaming pile of garbage, he's a steaming pile of garbage with taste.

Huh, then maybe he did actually mean what he said about you being able to handle it?

Nah, that can't be right.

Whatever. You have more important things to worry about than a toxic, twink-shaped gremlin. Like your new assignment with the Jabberwock ghouls. That should be your current number-one priority. You should probably go over the investigation notes right now, actually.

SHOulders: Hey Y/N, u free?

You're a strong independent woman who can prioritize important, life-altering tasks over silly crushes. You are, you can resist–

You: Yeah! What's up?

~~~~~

"So? What do you think of the sign?"

"It's amazing! It's even more impressive than it was in the photo."

Sho grins at your compliments, though he tries not to show just how pleased he is about your heartfelt praise.

"Didn't I say flattery'll get you nowhere?"

He's lying, of course. Flattery from you is always welcome, because he can tell you mean it. It's also why he's asked you to look at his menu and signboard before officializing the food truck – you'll give him your honest thoughts. Leo would have opinions on things that are trending, but Sho doesn't really want to rely on gimmicks. For all his irritation with the restrictions at Darkwick (and having to deal with his annoying ass brother), this food truck is something he's actually excited about.

Sho doesn't tend to take most things seriously… he's naturally intelligent and athletic, so he's never really had to try hard to get by. Not wanting anything badly means he'll never be disappointed if something doesn't pan out. Besides, Leo's the type of best friend to make fun of any endeavor or interest he doesn't deem worthy.

But you're different.

You work so hard every day to make up for the qualities you believe you lack, from struggling through workouts to staying up late to catch up on the classwork you miss due to being sent on missions. Maybe once he would have scoffed at your efforts, but instead, it gives him the courage to try something new.

It's safe to show you how much the food truck actually means to him. You're the one who constantly raves about his food, whose encouragement and support has helped his tiny idea grow into an actual dream. He trusts you.

"Do you have a date?"

Huh? A date for what? Why do you want to know about his love life? Or is this your way of asking him to –

You hand back the menu you were looking at, and Sho realizes you mean for his food truck opening.

Right. Thank goodness, because you guys have a good friendship that does not need to be complicated by anything like that.

"By next week, I guess? So long as no one gets in my way."

"I'm really looking forward to it!"

Yeah, the sensation in his chest is most definitely relief, not disappointment.

~~~~~

"What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too, Kurokawa," you reply drily as you put down your heavy bag, unsurprised by Leo's unwelcoming greeting. He's lounging on a couch in the common area, and you suppress an internal sigh.

It's not surprising to run into him at the Vagastrom dorm, but you had hoped he was out turning princes into frogs, forcing poor parents to exchange their firstborn for vegetables, or whatever it is he does for fun.

"It's Kurosagi."

You ignore his correction, because you know it pisses him off.

You sometimes wonder why Sho bothers with Leo when you've never seen Leo do anything nice for his so-called best friend, but it's not your place to judge. You're mature enough to understand that there's a history there you're not aware of, and that you've only known them for a very short period of time.

"Maybe I'm here to see my darling influencer boyfriend," you say sarcastically, giving him the fakest smile you can manage as you plop down next to him. You know he doesn't like you, so it's another easy way to annoy him (if at your own expense). "How could I go a day without seeing that pretty face?"

You're mature enough to understand. That doesn't mean you're mature enough to not hate it. If you can't avoid Leo, you're going to do your best to be as annoying as possible when you do have to interact with him.

"Ugh, don't sit so close," Leo grumbles, despite not making a single move to move away like the lazy little princess he is. He does smell nice though, probably some trendy cologne that he uses to cover up the stench of his rotten personality. "Have you even showered today?"

Wow. You know you smell nice because you did, in fact, shower today. Right before coming here, to be exact, because despite Sho's knowledge of your sweaty form after training sessions, you want his memories to be of you fresh and perfumed.

There is really no need for Leo to be so fucking rude all the fucking time. Especially when you've done nothing to deserve it but apparently have the audacity to exist in his presence. If anything, you've been downright charitable in never bringing up "the incident" at the Pit. Though if you're being honest, it's also something you don't want to remember, because the knowledge that you willingly ground up against his dick – even if it was out of spite – is too embarrassing to think about.

Sure, he's pretty, but you have your standards.

Why are you even thinking about this right now? Clearly you have been spending way too much time either studying, doing odd jobs for the ghouls, and daydreaming about Sho if you're even thinking of Leo in any sexual-adjacent light. You don't even really want to think about him at all.

You know that being ignored is one of the things that bothers him most of all (an attention-seeking diva, truly), so you grab a textbook out of your bag and begin to read.

~~~~~

Leo knows he's an asshole.

He's perfectly fine with it. Sometimes, it even sparks joy.

Such as now, when you're scowling at him in a way that makes him want to antagonize you even further. You're always so nice and friendly to everyone that it's satisfying to be the one to elicit a different reaction out of you. It's a matter of pride that he's the only one that can make you lose your temper.

Besides, it's not his fault you look so cute when you're pissed off.

Leo freezes when he realizes what just crossed his mind, but before he can figure out exactly where that ridiculous thought came from, you're pulling a textbook out of your bag.

… Are you seriously about to study while sitting so close to Leo he can smell your flowery shampoo?

"Can I help you, Kurohagi?"

His eyebrow twitches, and he realizes he's been staring at you. And that you fucked up his last name, again.

"You're getting very comfortable, aren't you?" he replies in a scornfully, wondering why exactly you're even visiting when Leo's the only one here.

Unless… you came to see him. Maybe you're just playing it off as if you weren't, to save face. Why else would you even sit so close to him, anyway?

"I'm just waiting for Sho to get back, he said he'd be here soon," you reply with a shrug that annoys Leo for reasons he can't explain. Your answer makes far more sense, and yet that just pisses him off even more. So he does what he does best.

"It's cute how you're being such a good little gofer for Sho," he says mildly, pretending not to care one way or the other. "He's always been good at getting people to do things for him."

You stiffen, and uncertainty flits across your face before you straighten your expression. Though you're obviously trying to hide it, the way you shift away from him reveals that he hit a nerve.

It was exactly what he was going for, but the usual satisfaction feels hollow, as if the words have left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. You don't snap back with your usual fire the way he expected. Instead you just look back at your book, and the sour feeling magnifies.

An oppressive silence blankets the two of you while unfamiliar pressure weighs down his chest, and Leo is almost relieved when the tell-tale sound of a rumbling engine signals Sho's arrival.

His friend's face brightens instantly when his eyes land on you, which irritates Leo in a way he can't explain. You smile back, though it's more subdued than usual.

"I brought the rest of the stuff from the diner," you call out, and the way Sho jogs to greet you seems to restore some of the sparkle in your eyes. It does not alleviate some of the heaviness Leo is feeling.

"Awesome, thanks," Sho replies with a grin. "You know you didn't have to, right?"

"Yeah, but I wanted to."

Barf. Are you guys fucking serious? It's nauseating, the way Sho is smiling at you like a lovesick puppy. Does he have no pride at all?

"Oh, Leo," Sho calls. Great, he's finally been noticed.

"What?" Leo replies a little petulantly, crossing his arms. Everything about this situation is pissing him off, and he doesn't even understand why.

"Stop pouting and help me out, I was able to pick up some liquor when I went on my grocery run."

"Ugh, fine," he grumbles, mollified by the promise of a night of drinking. It's sadly the closest they can get to clubbing when Darkwick watches their every move.

Leo stands to help grab some of Sho's bags and notices that you're hanging back with an uncertain look on your face. Are you stupid enough to actually take Leo's words to heart when it's obvious you have his best friend wrapped around your pretty little finger?

"Are you coming or not?" he asks testily, shoving a few bags in your direction. "We're not sharing if you don't help."

Your eyes widen at the implied invitation, and even Sho makes a sound of surprise.

"I… uh… yeah," you stammer, hurrying up from the couch to take the bag Leo is holding out. "Thanks?"

You still look and sound confused, but the smile you give him is genuine. It's the first time he's been on the receiving end of that particular expression of yours, and sunlight eases the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. It's similarly disconcerting, and Leo has no idea what to make of it.

"Whatever, just hurry up."

~~~~~

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#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker fanfic #tdbk #haizono sho #tokyo debunker fanfiction #leo kurosagi #kurosagi leo #sho haizono #sho x reader #leo x reader

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

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No Pain, No Gain | Part 1 | PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: The personal trainer your roommate Baela recommended to you is rude, condescending but also hot as hell. Series Masterlist.

A/N: shoutout to my personal trainer Alex for rotting my brain. This is my first modern!Aemond fic, so any feedback is genuinely appreciated, I hope you enjoy this, it was an absolute ball to write (and there will be more!)

Also I could not post this without tagging some absolute modern!Aemond QUEENS who inspired me to write this. @valeskafics @oneeyedvisenya @sapphire-writes you’re the real ones! Also massive hug to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for hyping me up and being a parent to this child she didn't choose to create.

warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

To say you were broken-hearted would be a bit of an understatement.

You were angry, annoyed, frustrated, wound up tight and pissed off to the highest degree.

And it showed in how you acted these days as you polished off the salty family-size bag of crisps on your own in 10 minutes flat.

You look over at your phone and sigh when you see it’s already 6 o’clock in the afternoon. Another day sat on the sofa, wallowing in self-pity, eating yourself into oblivion and fairly soon pouring a glass of Baela’s finest white wine (now that it was officially almost evening anyway and it was justified).

Scrolling through instagram was like twisting the dagger that was already in your chest. All that stupid fucking app could show you was ‘ex in the bar with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex in the drive-thru with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex on the beach with his new girlfriend’.

It made you want to throw your phone directly at the wall. But you settled for squeezing the life out of it, imagining it was your ex’s stupid face instead.

The absolute waste of space had broken up with you over text on the night you were supposed to go out on a date. And as if that was not bad enough, not even two weeks had gone by before he’d managed to stick his dick into someone else with a pulse. At the time, you were so angry that you didn’t accuse him of anything, he’d already broken up with you. But you did suspect that this ‘sudden’ relationship he’d gotten into wasn’t as recent as first thought.

It’s been a month since you found out about the other woman.

And clearly you were coping really well.

Indulging wasn’t something you usually did, but now you feel you deserved it.

“Hello~” the soft, ringing voice of your roommate Baela was at the door. You half-considered hiding all the packets of various foods you’d managed to stuff down your gob, but Baela had seen worse of you. She’d seen you while you were throwing your guts up after freshers week at university. Nothing was worse than that and you shuddered at the memory.

She walks in, looking more put together than you by a long way, having been hanging out with her sister all day. That’s what you like about Baela, she’s not judgemental, and so when she sees you’ve barely moved an inch she just flashes her usual smile.

“Good day then?” she says with a smirk. You raise your eyebrows in return.

“Apart from seeing him plastered all over instagram I’m great”

“Got any left?” she asks, extending a greedy hand for a crisp. You offer her the bag with a sigh as she slumps on the sofa next to you. She watches boredly whatever you have on the TV,

"Why don't you just block him?" She asks. And to be fair, she has a point.

But you huff and shove another crisp in your mouth, whining, "Cos I'm a nosy bitch with no boundaries"

Baela sighs, pulling out her own phone and scrolling through her notifications, "As much as I love you y/n, this is pathetic, even for you"

You'd be offended if she wasn't completely right. And you know she's only half joking so you just shrug.

"How was Rhaena?" You ask.

"Yeah fine, usual shit with Dad. Oh I didn't tell you-" she starts.

She has that glint in her eye which spells trouble. She's got gossip and you raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

"Hold that thought, wine first?"

"Obviously"

After giggling and waltzing over to the counter to pour two glasses of the finest box wine you could get for under seven English pounds, you hand her one and wait almost too excitedly for her to spill whatever sweet gossip she has.

She sips it, almost like she needs the liquid courage to begin, and she hisses at the sweet, acidic taste.

"God that's foul"

"It was 2 for 1!" You retort with a laugh, but she is right, it does taste foul, "Stop stalling, tell me tell me tell me"

She looks at you as if to say bitch, you are not fucking ready.

“Dad’s married Rhaenyra”

The force of which your jaw drops open is almost comical. You’d guessed for a while that they were at least fucking, but to just elope?!

“I need money, cos I betted on this shit happening!”

“Oh my gosh, Rhaena was fucking hysterical. Jace and Luke aren’t surprised at all, but Alicent is beside herself in the family group chat, it should honestly be a reality TV show” Baela says scrolling through said group chat. From what you can see without being too nosy, is that there’s a lot of long paragraphs and angry emojis.

“What about Viserys, surely he’s…” you ask, trailing off to sip the pissy wine in your hands.

“Oh no, he’s thrilled. Which pisses Alicent off even more if that’s possible”

“Baela I think your Uncle’s gone insane” you bite your lip to stifle a laugh.

“No fucking kidding”

You slump back onto the sofa, “Holy shit, I am a genius. I knew the whole time” you say, smirking in victory.

“And so humble too” Baela gives a sarcastic grin which you return.

“How do you feel about it?”

Baela shucks her phone onto the coffee table, sighing, “Not bothered, we’re all adults now, so it hardly makes a difference to me. Suppose it’ll get Dad to stop bringing back random women now” she says exasperated, “but Rhaenyra gets the impression we’re all really bothered so she’s invited us all to a retreat for a week. Think she just wants to butter us up for marrying our Dad”

“Oh? Anywhere nice?”

Baela looks over, giving you a wearied look.

“What?”

“Well that brings me to you”

“Oh god, what” you ask, dropping the tone to emphasise the seriousness of the talk all of a sudden.

Baela fiddles with the remote, in an attempt to appear cute, “Well~ There’s a spare ticket going and you’re my bestest friend. And I would hate to endure a week of watching my Dad eat Rhaenyra’s face off, so come with me please?” she begs.

You sigh, “Baela usually I would love to sponge off you like that but-”

“Pleasepleaseplease~” she begs, “Rhaena’s bringing her boyfriend and we’re basically together!”

You fake a gagging sound.

“Oh come on, a week on a beach in bikinis,sweltering weather with as many cocktails as you can hold isn’t exactly torture”

You give her an incredulous look, opening your arms to emphasise all the bags of junk food around you, “Do I look beach body ready to you?!”

“Oh fuck off, you’re hot and have an ass that can keep the world fed”

“I know I am hot, I just don’t feel hot” you stare blankly at the TV, trying to ignore her and stuff another crisp into your mouth.

Baela sighs, “I was just thinking it would be a nice distraction, that’s all”

“I want to it’s just…” you start, trying to think of the right words, “...I don’t feel my best”

Baela gives you a playful slap on your arm, “Look, forget your ex, he’s dumb as fuck and it’s not solving anything by staying inside with the curtains drawn all day. If you want to feel better, might be worth taking care of yourself a bit, hm?”

Fuck her, you think, rolling your eyes, she’s right.

You hate how often she’s right. Because she gets that look on her face when she is. Always has done.

“How about that gym membership you’ve not used since February?” she asks,

“Okay firstly, ouch. Secondly, I realised I don’t know the first thing about how to work out in a gym, besides the guys there were…weird”

You shudder at the thought. It was January and so all the new year’s resolution guys were at it in full swing, using the gym as a means to try and pick up girls. And since graduating you find that more often than not the guys who hit on you were students. Maybe it was different now?

Baela pokes her cheek with her tongue, racking her brain.

“One of my cousins is a personal trainer? I could text him to see if he’s happy to take you on. Mates rates” she smiles.

You side-eye her hard. You’ve heard briefly about her cousins. Some of the stories are a bit more…eccentric than others. And even though you’ve never met them, you’ve heard enough stories to satisfy your curiosity.

“This isn’t the manwhore cousin, right? Because if it is then no”

She scoffs, “No. Aegon hasn’t set food in a gym since graduating and he only went cos it was free. The personal trainer one is Aemond. He’s a bit…anti-social?” she pulls a face when she says it.

“He’s anti-social and he’s a personal trainer?” you ask, eyebrow raised, “makes so much sense”

Baela scrolls through her contacts, “Yeahhh. Don’t worry though, he’s just grumpy” she explains, “want me to text him?”

Your head falls to the edge of the sofa in a huff. You want to go and on top of that, it might be nice to finally have a break. That and you’d love to shove it in your exes face when he sees you’re on holiday looking your hottest.

“How long ‘til the holiday?”

Baela grins victoriously, “A month and a bit. He does a month course for stuff like this, I can ask him about it”

What the fuck am I getting myself into, you think briefly.

Fuck it.

“Fine”

The force at which Baela’s nails tap against the screen is almost desperate.

Baela snorts a laugh at the message and turns her phone to show you the messages.

“He seems lovely” you roll your eyes sarcastically.

“Like I said, he’s just grumpy. He’ll be professional though” she says.

You sigh, crushing the empty bag of crisps in your hands.

“Can’t wait”

After following him on instagram, you did a bit of shameless stalking. You’d heard a little bit about Aemond from Baela talking about her family, but he seemed the most mysterious out of all of them (save for the youngest whose name she struggled to even remember).

He had very little photos of himself, mainly progress pictures of other clients he’s helped. And he seems to be pretty successful so far. A girl with a similar body to you managed to get toned on his one-month program and looked hot afterwards, so you had some high hopes that it was possible for you as well. But you did wonder what he looked like. There were only two photos where he was in frame, and he’d been tagged by another person, looking away from the camera.

From what you could see, he was very tall, lithe and slim but built, with silver hair that had been pulled up into a bun. Ah, so he’s a man-bun type of guy. Yikes.

Unfortunately, the photo showed very little of his face, so you couldn’t be too nosy.

You sent a very brief message, introducing yourself, trying not to cringe at the idea that he might be doing the exact same stalking to your instagram right at this moment. A shiver went up your spine at the thought.

It’s only when you’re in TKMaxx with Baela, shopping for gym gear the next day, that you finally get a reply from him.

“What do you think of just wearing a sports bra?” Baela says, eyeing up a black shirt.

You’re too busy staring at the message, “Hm? Oh, I’d just go in gym leggings and a bra yeah. Just got a reply from your mysterious cousin”

Baela hops over, “What’s he said? Nothing bad I hope” she grins.

You show her the screen.

Baela raises her eyebrows, “Very formal. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised” she says, seeming surprised that he’s at least cordial.

“It’s very ‘serial-killer-esque’ of him not to have a profile picture” you joke, locking your phone again.

Baela picks out a black gym set. Black leggings with a mesh pocket on the side for your phone and a black sports bra. You nod, “Yeah looks good to me”

“Oh please you’re gonna look hot in this” she smirks, leading you over to the counter to pay.

She rewards you for your efforts by driving you to McDonald's drive-thru. A send off to junk-food so to speak.

And when Monday rolls around, you nod in the mirror. She was right, it does look hot on you. At least in the safety of your flat where there’s nobody to look at you. In a gym, surrounded by other fit people and a personal trainer you’ve never met? It might feel slightly different.

There’s a faint swirl of anxiety in your gut but you pull your trainers on, grab a hair tie from your nightstand and drive to the gym you’ve agreed to meet at. Luckily it’s your local gym, large and packed to the brim with some good equipment at least. And you briefly wonder what kind of workouts you’ll be doing before pulling into the car park.

You see him as soon as you enter the gym. He’s very tall, slender but muscular and fucking gorgeous. What the fuck, is all you can think when you shamelessly scan him from head to toe. Like the pictures, he has his long silver hair in a bun, with a few pieces having come free and falling around his face. His legs are miles long in the black sweats he’s wearing, as well as the black top that sticks a bit too snugly to his front and shoulders, making your mouth water a bit.

And you can’t help but admire his side profile, how his jaw just so naturally and sharply juts into his chin. How his cheekbones sit so prominently and high on his face, framing his features. His sharp, defined nose. And you can’t see from here because he’s looking down at his phone, but his eyelashes are unnaturally long for a man. It’s just unfair, frankly.

Shaking yourself briefly from the trance you were in, you right yourself and approach him.

He looks up to see you before you even have a chance to open your mouth. Now that he's looking at you face on, you can see the shocking blue of his right eye and the paler, soft hue of the other. Not only that but the angry scar that ran down the side of his face, extending from his forehead to the mid part of his cheek, straight through the eye.

You look at it for a split second, surmising that perhaps he's partially sighted or blind in that eye. But you choose not to say anything and instead smile with an awkward wave.

"Hey, you must be Aemond"

He openly drags his eyes over you, from head to toe, just like you did a moment ago without his knowledge. But now that you're standing right in front of him, in the gym gear that you totally don't feel a bit self conscious in, it feels a bit weird.

He doesn't reply for a moment.

"I'm y/n" you say, forcing a smile to your nervous face.

"Hm" he responds lowly, "Baela's friend"

You pull an awkward face and nod.

You feel so stupidly small against this absolute giraffe of a man and you daren't step forward any more, for fear of looking even smaller under his judgemental and indifferent gaze.

He sighs and gestures for you to follow him, seeming disinterested as he looks down at his phone. For a brief second you wonder how this guy keeps his clients if he's this rude, but you shake the thought away, not wanting to judge too quickly.

He leads you into one of the consultation rooms, separate from the rest of the gym. He sits on one of the seats, sighing as if he's had the hardest day in the world and taking a swig of water from his bottle.

Sat across from him, you feel a bit small under his gaze. He's quite intimidating, you now find.

"Have you ever worked out before" he asks flatly.

You shrug, "I've tried I guess, but never super seriously" you laugh awkwardly, but he doesn't return it.

He runs his eyes over you again, as if to say yeah I can see that.

"Stand up. Shoes off. We're going to take your weight and measurements" he orders, going to his bag to grab some things.

It's beyond awkward and quiet in the room with him as he idly takes down your weight, height and current eating habits, which you've had to be more honest about than you'd cared to admit.

Standing in the middle of the room, he twirls his measuring tape on his fingers. He measures your upper body first, which isn't too bad until he gets to your bust. You try and look anywhere else in the room while he measures across it, his fingers landing softly at either arm, taking a note of the measurement. You internally scold yourself, he is so much taller and surely must be able to see right down the sports bra. It only serves to make your face heat up with embarrassment.

If that wasn't enough, he gets to your lower body, measuring your hips and then thighs. He gets to his knees to do it and you resist the urge to pull your hands into fists at the proximity of him to your intimate area, separated only by a thin pair of gym leggings and underwear.

He doesn't seem to bother himself with the awkwardness. And every time you look at his face, he seems indifferent, bored even. Even then, his face is unnaturally beautiful, even with the scar.

He must really not like people.

Aemond sighs having taken all his notes.

"We'll do one training session and see how much weight we can do" he instructs. You nod.

"I expect you to be in the gym four times a week, three in the week and once at the weekend. We'll do one session together a week so I can check your progress"

His tone is so flat, all you can do is nod. He looks at you,

"Got it?"

Your cheeks heat up, "Um, yeah"

"Good"

He leads you outside to the actual gym floor which luckily isn't too busy, side-eyeing you massively when you pull your hair up into a ponytail to get it off your neck.

His large form leads you over to where the mats are kept, haphazardly throwing two to the floor.

He doesn't say anything past one or two word commands and it's incredibly difficult to not look in the mirror in front of you to watch him as he stretches. The way he stretches his arms over his head and it lifts the hem of his shirt a little, showing his happy trail, biceps rippling.

And when he does leg stretches, instructing you to do the same, you can't help but stare at how his thighs are basically bulging out from his sweats. It takes all of your strength and will to not look any higher than that towards his hips.

He watches your form as you try and copy him stretching. And your heart almost leaps into your chest when he uses his hand to move your ankle slightly, so that you put pressure on a certain muscle. But he focuses completely, professional.

Fuck, be professional.

All caution is thrown completely to the wind when he gets you on machines. He demonstrates some of them first, starting with the so-called 'easier' ones, like the inner and outer thigh machines that look way too…suggestive.

Of course, he's got it on a ridiculous weight to demonstrate which makes you scoff a bit. And when you get on the inner thigh machine, it locks into place with your legs spread. You thank every god there is that there's no mirror in front of you on this machine.

"You have to start with your legs spread as much as possible" he states simply, pushing the pads against your legs even further. It makes your eyes widen, sinful thoughts pop up in your head. But before they take root you shake them away.

It's ridiculously hard the first few times and he raises an eyebrow.

"Really?" He mocks a bit, the tiniest of smirks on his face "you're only on 14kg"

"Fuck off" you mutter under your breath. He tuts and changes it to 9kg, bruising your ego a bit. But you finish the set nonetheless.

You think he's a bit of a psycho, because after that little remark he has you on every leg machine available. Making fun every time you have to be on the lowest weight.

After the session, you're aching in places you didn't even know existed and you haven't even rested yet. Knowing full well you'll be achy as fuck tomorrow and even wlrse than right now. The faintest sheen of sweet is visible on your pinkened chest.

"You're weaker than I thought"

He runs his long fingers through his hair and you want to slap that stupid fucking self-indulgent look off his smug face seeing you all out of puff like this.

"Thanks, means a lot" you say sarcastically, drinking from a water bottle. He raises an eyebrow at the attitude.

"I'll send you your workout plan. If you have any issues do me a favour and don't bother me with them" he retorts.

"Charming" you mutter under your breath once he's gone past you. You watch as he walks away, briefly appreciating his broad shoulders, until the sour taste of his poor behaviour settles in. And you huff, texting Baela immediately.

You curse every god there is that you drive a manual car, because right now the thought of having your aching leg pressing on the clutch pedal might actually drive you to mass-murder.

This is going to be a long month.

Taglist: @mrsgrwy @lovelykhaleesiii

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lemonhemlock · 6 months

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look. not to be too mean on main. the rightful heir thing. if you don't care about the intricacies of property law or legal writs and just want to focus on characterization and other aspects of storytelling, fine.

but it truly does look very goofy when you start "debating" this while lacking historical context and methodological tools. sometimes a constitutional crisis (that was already resolved in the 12th century and whose results you can always look up) can't just be settled by appealing to one's anachronistic opinion and accusing those who disagree of misogyny.

there's a difference between suggesting how things should be (i.e. prescriptive, i.e. women should never inherit the throne) and analysing how things were for a myriad of socio-political reasons.

also, trust me, the Dance being fictional is not the gotcha people think it is. it's plenty obvious. i'm sorry to say but the premise is so flimsy it would never have happened like that irl.

final idea: likewise, perhaps being condescending about people who do take the time to criticise the premise is veering a little bit towards anti-intellectualism. 'idc about succession laws ergo i'm more enlightened bc i've unlocked an edgelord-y way to enjoy fiction'. a medievalesque fantasy setting is going to attract commentators who are interested in medieval history or at least aspects of it. they may find copy-paste scenarios from real history and think it interesting to compare and contrast. it's not immediately equivalent to treating aegon and rhaenyra like your ballot choices next election, and, equally, they're not discussions without merit.

comparative analysis is a transferable skill! if someone doesn't want to partake, fine, but i think this attitude of turning one's nose at it is a tad coarse. there are many fans who take the time to write informative posts and contextualise this fictionalised universe and it's a shame to automatically write-off what is ultimately a rich tradition in internet asoiaf spaces

#*people with history degrees facepalming their way through the fandom*#everyone has a pet peeve and this is mine #my other controversial opinion is that it's also silly to say it doesn't matter from a storytelling perspective as well #if your intrigue is shaky then it brings the quality of the overall story down #one principle of writing is that your world needs to have consistent internal rules no?#if these rules flip-flop from one situation to the next then that would be a flaw in the worldbuilding #and one thing about grrm's dance is that the intrigue is one of the weak points #succession for the iron throne

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random-french-girl · 2 years

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man the conversation/mini fight bea and ava have in the car while michael gets gas is SO good and builds up the tension that eventually culminates in their actual fight in the apartment at the end of the ep SO well, and i feel like there’s truly so much to talk about for both characters in this scene alone

for example i LOVE that you can feel bea’s frustration growing and growing because ava keeps insisting and bea keeps having to say no, until she snaps a lil bit and throws the whole “is it because you’re attracted to him?” accusation at ava’s face, which, yeah it’s borne out of jealousy, but also out of sheer exasperation and stress because ava won’t listen to her... and it’s such a great character beat to show bea being momentarily a bit unfair! a bit provoking! a bit condescending on purpose!

bea is so composed and in control of herself at all times, she’s always gentle, wise, kind - until the stress and pressure become too much. then she cracks, and turns... merciless? whether it’s a physical fight, or a verbal one, she goes straight for the weak point, and it’s vicious, honestly. and the way she lashes out multiple times this season, at ava, at camila, at father vincent, even at mother superion that one time... i’m loving this character trait - character flaw? - that was established in s1, coming into focus more visibly in s2. yes girl let the anger out!

#sorry everyone for all the warrior nun rambling but i'm living my best life #sister beatrice #avatrice #warrior nun #ava x beatrice #some random meta #i'm rewatching wn s2

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nori-the-cat · 1 month

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Hello guys,

I’ve never wanted to post this on here. Yet it’s been on my head lately. I go back and forth on wanting to post this. Ever since I’ve turned on my anonymous ask I’ve experienced some unpleasant things. So, if you guys notice that sometimes I turn it off and then turn it on. It’s because I happen to let you guys interact with me. I like talking to you guys whether it’s through an anonymous feature or a direct message. I’m a friendly person and I will kindly reply to you when I can. Also, I know how daunting it is to talk to me with your account being seen to the world. After all, I’m a stranger. So, I understand and to consider your feelings I would still turn on my anonymous ask feature once in a while. Just, please be mindful with what you say.

Second, it was and it is never my intention to do tarot readings on idols love life, especially, tarot readings regardless an idols love life and illustrates it as if it’s true. I had experience an unpleasant situation while ago. I was “accused” that I was shipping two idols together. Honestly…SIGH…It was never my intention to do so. I’m not going to explain further about it and I don’t want to mention the user who pointed it out. I also don’t want to mention the 2 idols that I did a reading on. That being said, please do read the tarot reading until the end. This will help you understand the context of my tarot readings better. But if you think my tarot reading crosses a line. I don’t mind you guys reminding me. I’ve had an experience where it was my fault and I was reminded of that. Although the message was condescending, rude, and mean. I still took it. But remember I’m human. I have feelings too. The idols I do tarot readings on are human too. Let’s be respectful of each other. Adding to this, if I happen to receive a love reading tarot request about certain idol pairs. I will answer your question under the condition that the idols “spirit guides” allow me too.

Lastly, I have no idea how many times I’ve said this. I will probably say it again over and over again. I am not forcing any of you guys to follow my account or like my tarot readings. If you guys don’t like me or uncomfortable with my tarot readings. Please for the love of God just unfollow me and block me. It’s one click away. Also, I do not intend to make my tarot readings feel like it is the truth of an idol’s life. I know my boundaries and I respect the idols too. They’re after all human. I truly want to make my blog drama free or rumour free. Hence, be mindful with what you want to ask me.

This is like the third time I’m announcing stuff about tarot readings. Please read the disclaimers. Honestly, it is gotten to a point where I don’t have the motivation to post. I don’t have the energy to do tarot readings and I feel like closing this account. I did it all for entertainment purposes. In every of my tarot readings I always shed two side of the story, so that we don’t jump into a conclusion. But it has come to my attention that despite the long and detailed post that I did. I know most don’t read it. I’m pretty sure you guys don’t read the disclaimer or reminder either. I’m not forcing you guys to read them till the end. But do read my reminders. Please take tarot readings lightly.

Please guys. I’m here for entertainment purposes only. I also don’t want to create rumours and spread unnecessary attention to the idols or my account. But it has gotten to a point where I have to address this. Hence, if you notice, my tarot reading has slowed down, is because of this. Please please be mindful with what you ask me and do read my rules.

Okay, I’m gonna take a break again. It’s still a little too much for me to be on here.

#nori announcement

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thedoubteriswise · 4 months

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I keep seeing complaints that people responding against anti-voting propaganda content are being "condescending" and "patronizing" and therefore are hurting their own cause. to a certain extent, I understand the point being made; it's true that people don't respond well to being insulted or feeling like they're being insulted. I've made this point many times before myself. but some of the takes I'm seeing have me at the end of my fucking rope, so I'm just going to reiterate three points that are less about this specific conversation and more about political debates in general:

refusing to consider the meat of someone's valid argument purely because you don't like the tone they're taking while making it is shitty behavior, and it's a great way to end up with factually wrong opinions. we've had a whole conversation about this in recent years; it was pretty hard to miss.

saying or implying that someone is a bad person (or annoying, or cringey, or whatever) instead of addressing the meat of their argument is an ad hominem attack. it's a logical fallacy. there are plenty of times where it doesn't matter and it's not that deep, we can make jokes, fine. but when forming your actual real opinions, it's critical that you agree or disagree with an idea, not with the people who are having it.

I've seen plenty of posts that took a hostile tone. I've also seen plenty that didn't, yet were still described as being patronizing. at this point, I'm not sure how people can phrase their arguments without being accused of condescension, because part of the problem with this topic (and many others, to be fair) is that people who need to hear corrections to their own thinking have gotten extremely attached to a specific way of conceptualizing how american politics work that isn't reflective of reality, or have linked their identity to engaging with politics in a specific way that has been sold to them as "radical." we've got a lot of people more interested in maintaining a sense of identity or catering to their own moral scrupulosity than in getting real world results that would actually line up with their stated values.

I do think that some people's frustration in combating this comes out at condescension. that's unfortunate, and I agree that it can be counterproductive. but I think there is also a strong element of people hearing that their political strategy is ineffective, dangerous, and poorly considered, and experiencing that as an attack to their identity, moral beliefs, or in-group. this is an extremely common phenomenon; a great recent example of it is conservatives who resisted mask and vaccine requirements - the things they were saying and doing were materially harmful to themselves and others, but telling them that was attacking something they had folded into their identity, so they pushed back even as they personally suffered the consequences of that decision.

my point is, if you have a negative response to hearing that your choice not to vote and to keep publicly discouraging voting is irresponsible and going to have undesirable results, it might be because the person saying so is being a dick about it, or that they generally suck as a person. I truly can't dispute this, the world is full of assholes. But a) does that make their argument factually wrong? what evidence do you have of this? does it hold up against the point they're making? And b) are they really being a dick, or are they simply challenging something that feels personal to you?

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chaifootsteps · 3 months

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i said stolas was abusive and ignores his daughter’s needs once and i got told “go watch she-ra and try to accuse catra of being abusive, if you say stolas or catra are abusive then you’re just internally queerphobic” and im reminded of why i hate being in the hazbin fandom yet again

Confession, I absolutely hate the term "internally ____." It's one of those terms that served a useful purpose at one time, but it's just been hijacked to mean "This person belongs to a minority but they disagree with me and I feel like being incredibly condescending while also weaponizing their own oppressed status against them because I'm a literal human skid mark."

Also Catra is abusive as fuck and this person is stupid.

#Anonymous #viv stuff #actual blog post

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rise-my-angel · 9 months

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I think people tend to misinterpret the scene where Robb receives Tyrion at Winterfell, when he arrives from the Wall with Yoren. At this point Robb is fully aware that the Lannisters are involved in Brans fall and he has been given no reason to think Tyrion is not part if it.

So to him, what he sees is the Lannisters for an unknown reason, pushed his ten year old brother from a tower and crippled him for life. This resentment likely was increased after the assassins attempt on Brans life, since they seem to suspect Bran is being targeted for seeing something he shouldn't have.

Robb now entierly on his own, has to balance both being Lord of Winterfell, the fact that the now awake Bran who is angry, upset, and is saying really morose things like "I'd rather be dead." All while this plot by the Lannisters is just sitting on the back burner. Then suddenly, only after Bran wakes up, does a Lannister come walking back into Winterfell from the Wall looking for hospitality. Robb has every reason to be pissed that Tyrion is here.

The Starks gave the Lannisters their hospitality and the Lannisters replayed that by trying to murder Bran. Then suddenly one comes back into his home, and is asking for the very same hospitality again.

I'd tell Tyrion to fuck off too.

What happens after is actually not a failing of Robb failing at playing a political hand as some accuse him of.

Tyrion: "I must say I received a slightly warmer welcome on my last visit."

Robb: "Any man of the Night's Watch is welcome at Winterfell."

Tyrion: "Any man of the Night's Watch, but not I, eh, boy?"

Robb: "I'm not your boy, Lannister. I'm Lord of Winterfell while my father is away."

Tyrion: "Then you might learn a lord's courtesy."

Tyrion is being incredibly patronizing right here. The way he addresses Robb is disrespectful right from the get go. Tyrion was the one not showing courtesy here, considering Robb could have not let him in the castle walls in the first place.

What he does, is imply he is offended that he isn't being shown the same degree of welcome as last time, and tells Robb he should show him a Lords Courtesy.

Tyrion then does a genuine thing for Bran, and gives him something that will improve his quality of life with his new disability. Robb does not trust Tyrion, or his intentions but recognizes the kind gesture. For Brans sake, he backtracks and agrees to Tyrions previous demand of being shown courtesy. Then what does Tyrion say?

Tyrion: "Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark."

He demands to be shown courtesy, then insults Robb when he offers said courtesy for the sake of his little brother. Once more he also says this in a very condescending tone.

Tyrion is not actually offended by Robbs actions, its his ego which was put on trial. He expected the same welcome as was given when he arrived with the King, and when he didn't get it, he showed Robb attitude. Who showed it right back. Then his ego got in the way and decided he didnt actually want Robbs hospitality and once more insults him in front of his own men.

Tyrion fumbled this interaction the second he decided to treat Robb with condescension rather then approach his cold demeanor diplomatically.

From everything Robb knows about the Lannisters part in Brans fall, he has every right to tell Tyrion to fuck off. Tyrion didn't show him respect so Robb doesn't show him respect. But Robb is still the one who does the mature thing, and backtracks his aggression for the sake of Bran, even though it's clear no one else in Winterfell wanted Tyrion there either.

We know Tyrion is innocent, but Robb has no reason to think that. The last time the Starks offered the Lannisters hospitality they tried to kill his brother. Tyrion then speaks to Robb with disrespect first and escalates the situation by insulting the acting Lord of Winterfell in front of his own men.

Robb didn't fuck up this interaction.

Tyrions ego did.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #robb stark #tyrion lannister

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doomed2repeat · 8 months

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About Theo and Eloise:

In my humble opinion:

Theo’s use as a character is to encourage Eloise to look past the surface of people. Of course he’s there to introduce her to romantic attraction, but in a very specific way, and it’s to start developing a sense of what she might like in a partner. Just because someone is perfect for you superficially does not mean they actually are, and for a character like Eloise patience and discernment are going to be very important for her storyline.

🛑 If you really really love Theo or Theloise and think they should be endgame, please stop now… 🛑

We got foreshadowing of this when Violet tries to hook Eloise up with that ton guy at the Hearts and Flowers ball. Violet picks him out for Eloise because she says he shares her rebelliousness. And that guy is rebellious and is looking for someone different, just like Violet says. But his personality is all wrong for Eloise and it crashes and burns pretty much immediately.

Theo is said to be “perfect” for Eloise. And on the surface, he might seem so. He’s a radical. He’s political. But those are his interests. Not his personality.

So let’s really look at his personality. Theo is one of the most condescending and patronizing people Eloise comes across. When he first meets her, he talks down to her, making assumptions of her based on her gender and class. Their initial banter is the stuff of meet cutes, which glosses over WHY they were bantering back and forth like that in the first place- he immediately underestimated her intelligence upon seeing her.

It’s debatable why she accepted it from him vs the other guy, but I think the biggest issue is that unlike the guy Eloise danced with at the ball, Eloise has a reason to keep talking to him despite him showing the same attitude that left her running from the ballroom floor. She needed him for something, so it was worth continuing to engage, and engaging with him for longer allows her crush to grow.

Eloise is going to be a character who needs time to really fall in love. And so she is going to need to develop the capacity for more patience for other people than her character currently has. She’s often impulsive and makes snap decisions, but Theo forces her out of that by being a character she has to work with. Which is a great thing! Through Theo, Eloise gets to explore more of her interests, which is not nothing! Credit where credit is due, she’s obviously going to want that in a partner, and I would hope any relationship they write for her would have that as an element to it. It’s valuable for her to learn that that’s possible as she starts to develop her sense of taste in men.

But he’s also not the ONE yet, which is also valuable for her.

When Eloise doesn’t kiss Theo he blows up at her. He lashes out and accuses her of being just like every other lady. Going back to the foreshadowing from the Hearts and Flowers ball, there’s some irony here- there, Eloise gets offended because the man implies that she’s Not Like Other Girls. Here, that is used against her. Theo thinks Eloise should act a certain way because she’s rebellious, but when he dismisses her as a prude, he once again reveals the superficiality of his politics when it comes to praxis.

At the time I watched S2, I hadn’t yet read the books, but I’ve read them since, and this is very similar to a scene from TSPWL, where Eloise is trying to discuss something serious with Phillip, who is trying to kiss her instead. We don’t know yet whether that scene will make it to the show or not, since show Phillip seems to have a somewhat different storyline from the books, but it was a deliberate choice to use that as a reason for Theo to lash out at Eloise in the show, and I think it’s actually about Eloise’s growth. In the similar scene in the book, she calls Phillip out for this behavior while in the show Eloise just cries. Somewhere between age 18 and 28, she won’t take it, even from men she likes, which is, frankly pretty realistic. Even the most radical feminists sometimes take BS from the “radical” first boyfriends they date as teenagers. Eloise has a realistic mix of strength and vulnerability, and Theo hit a vulnerable spot for her. She’s a feminist, but she has very little real world experience with relationships between men and women outside of her brothers, and Theo is a valuable storyline to create that experience, so that when she is ready (hopefully 10 years on, I’m team time jump Eloise), she’ll have the combination of patience and discernment necessary to find and keep the right person for her.

When it comes to Sir Phillip specifically, Eloise is interested in his words first. They write letters back and forth, they never meet in person before Phillip proposes, so we know physical attraction has nothing to do with it. When she runs off to meet him she’s partially there to assess his personality. See how he actually acts. And he’s not perfect. But even as flawed characters they ultimately compliment rather than clash. In the books we know she had been courted before and turns down multiple proposals, so she had enough experiences with men to know where she stands. Eloise was never going to settle for the first man who liked her, or even the first man she thought she might like, and in fact, so many happily married women have that story of “wow, if I had married the guy I was with at 18 it would be a disaster.” Eloise is getting that with Theo.

Because imagine Theo and Eloise long term. Imagine their verbal sparring when they’re fully on Theo’s turf, with Eloise as his wife. His condescension would get old so fast with Theo always having the upper hand. Eloise likes the buzz and mental stimulation of their banter, but ultimately she’s a woman who likes to be right, and likes to feel like she’s being heard and respected. Theo likes the novelty of a woman like Eloise, but prefers when he’s in the teachable position- giving her books to read, taking her to rallies, etc- and not when her needs don’t line up with his desires.

I won’t claim to know how they’re going to do Phillip in the show for Eloise’s season, other than what we all know the changes they’ve already made to his backstory with Marina and the twins. But I do think counting him out already by claiming Theo is “perfect” for Eloise is a pretty shallow read on what’s been seen and what’s still possible for her.

#philoise #anti-theloise #anti-Theo #eloise x phillip #eloise bridgerton #anti theloise #anti Theo #phillip crane #TSPWL #to sir phillip with love #Philoise Bridgerton

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mononijikayu · 9 months

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snow flower ━ nanami kento.

He was thinking of her excited singing all night, asking for the karaoke machine’s music book to continue punching the numbers to the next song while childishly arguing with her brother about whose song was playing. The wondrous tone coming out her lips, eyes closed passionately with vigor trying to release all the emotions that echoes through song after song. Each time she sang a love song, his heart skipped a beat - imagining a fictional story with him and her together in love walking through a flowery road together.

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Gen, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband;

WORDS: 3.2k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i wrote this to celebrate christmas. i love you all!!! may you continue to have a happy holidays and lovely, healthy days!!! <3

main masterlist

what a wonderful world masterlist

let's fall in love for the night | snowflower

next: hesitate

NANAMI KENTO HAD NOT REALIZED THAT HE HAD BEEN STARING AT HER FOR A WHILE NOW. The lights behind her dressing the Christmas tree illuminated around her, giggling at what her brother had said to her in Danish. It looked like heaven to him, every moment where her eyes glistened attentively to her brother, full of genuine love flourishing in that small space between them - in a way, Nanami Kento wished that he could also be like that with her.

But he didn’t know how.

Especially now that he had realized that his feelings had gone beyond friendship.

The beauty she held was like the angels above glistening with fluttering wings, dressed in beautifully knitted white wool long sleeves with her hair braided upwards like a crown adorning her head. Nanami was not one to believe in anything religious. But if he will start now, it would be for this woman that radiated the most beautiful wonder in life - her existence. If heaven did exist, it was here. It was with her.

Her existence became the foundation of his own, building a garden in his empty existence in this barren plain. It became his most utmost fantasy, the wonder of a dream where he would wake up to meet her gorgeous eyes when his own in the contrast of the morning dew that greeted them, when his demons would haunt him harshly. When Yu would come and visit him over and over from the grave, eyeing him with such condescending eyes, accusing gazes. The resounding scream that he was not there to hear playing for him like a broken record.

Nanami Kento knew that he was greedy. Especially with her, always wishing to be a part of the world she held dear to her heart. To be the only lover within the realm of that world.

But with the life he lived, his greed was outweighed by his desire to keep her safe.

That is why he had started to keep his distance from her. It had been months since he had returned to being a Jujutsu Sorcerer. In that time, he was frequently gone and gave many excuses. Ones he had never had to make when he was a salaryman.

It was better this way.

Or at least that is what he has been telling himself.

So, Nanami for all his wishes to be around her - decided to step away from the sight of her. For months, not replying to phone calls and messages. When he did, he told her that his ‘new business job’ was keeping him too busy. How he cannot tell her where his work place was, so she could meet him.

Nanami was barely home in his own home, opting to rest and sleep in the dormitories of Jujutsu High, often filing reports here and there about cases he closed and finished - drinking beer until he succumbed to the darkness.

Yet for all his restraint in the physical realm, his dreams only saw her, whom he longed for. Whom he wished to be together with, in the sight of the falling stars in sweet serendipity. He looked at her, the brightest star in his heavens.

At times, it would be together at the sight of the rising sun, in the lukewarm breath of air in the wide open mountain tops at a hike together. It was disappointing whenever he woke up, to the cold loneliness of that single sized mattress when he could be with her in his dreams, enjoying the warmth of her during the cold fall mornings.

Nanami wishes that he could tell her all that has been happening, to give her the truth. But he was aware that the truth was sometimes more a burden than a gift. He wishes that ignorance would be his bliss.

Which is why he thought of not coming at all this time, to their Christmas getaway together with their families - a tradition that had come a year when they met after that music festival.

He decided that he was going to be a recluse this Christmas, tell his mother that he needed time to himself or mayhaps convince Yaga to give him some more work to avoid the impending meeting. But Yaga said no, rightfully so - knowing how stressed out Nanami was considering when he asked him, he had finished four bottles of shōchū in the first hour. More so, Yaga gave him four weeks of leave, more than what he should have had.

Defeated, he was planning to be locked away instead in his own home. Pretend instead that no one was home.

But he had given her his house keys.

Nanami found her waiting in his living room, sleeping on his couch. She had probably had come from her work, for the first evaluation with her editor and assistants on her work schedule for the upcoming year. Disheveled hair waved around her face like a halo, clothes barely good enough for the cold weather. Looking at the fireplace, with the smoke disappearing against the wind. Nanami could guess that she must have slept even through the cold.

He couldn't bear that. Nanami moved her carefully to his own bed to rest, wrapped her in the warmest blankets he had and watched over her, looking at her sleeping figure from time to time as he made warm miso soup and unfroze beef to fry for her.

When she did wake up, she could not believe her sight to see Nanami drinking tea in his living room while reading a newspaper. She took deep breaths, biting her lip and crying. It was hard to even see her cry in front of him. After all, she had been so worried about him and came to his house to make sure he was alright, had eagerly searched for him and had found herself crazy with the worry she felt inside for him.

“I’m sorry.” was all he could give her as he placed his hand on top of hers. “I’m sorry.”

They spent the night just sitting beside each other, in the warmth of the kotatsu she had worked hard setting up. He had been so warmed by the thought that she went through the trouble of calling friends and putting them in speaker mode, asking them how she can settle the table properly.

Looking at her as she slept against his shoulder, she was a blossoming snow flower in the winter. His beautiful snow flower. Looking up at the solemn light of his ceiling, he sighed heavily.

“Ah…..what do I do?”

“Kento!”

Nanami blinked finally, his reality regaining sense when he saw his mother waving her hand in front of him with a worried expression. His lips turned into a small smile, eager not to worry her as he composed himself once again. His mother gave him a sigh, body slumping down slightly from stretching to her son’s height and finally feeling at ease at the sight of her son’s small smile.

Nanami rarely smiled nowadays, finding little amusement in his life as of late save a few reliefs. However, Nanami Kento was not to deny his mother anything. After her, his mother was everything to him too.

“You worried me there.” Nanami’s mother exclaimed softly. “I thought you were just icicle like the frozen cars out there!”

“I apologize for worrying you…..I was just thinking of something. It’s just…..”

Nanami did not want to be too obvious, eyes still following her as she felt his eyes on him which made him look away quickly.

His mother raised a brow in confusion. Hands going to check his cheeks and his stomach, causing him to become flustered. “Are you sure? Maybe you aren’t eating well enough! Or is it too much beer again? Is Gojo asking you to do more work?”

Well, it wasn’t all a lie. Nanami is thinking about the case he has to come back to when he returns to Japan after Christmas. For a moment, he thought of Gojo’s face winking at him as he departed once again to avoid work. His features contorted into a hardened look, body slightly feeling cold and could only mentally sigh.

Though his mother was also right with the other things, it was not what he was thinking of.

As he carefully removed his mother’s hands from his cheeks, he whispered promises and reassurances of his well being being top notch. He saw her gaze at him, one moment perplexed but soon with a smile on his lips, gave him a small wave.

He looked away, feeling his cheeks turn red at the happiness radiating through his body. She frowned, feeling dejected by his refusal to return her wave. His mother came by towards him, with a plate from the other side of the kitchen. He made excuses at her, telling her he was fine. He moved to the side, where he could not help but stare. But reminisce.

'Always the snow flower that one cannot have.'

How his heart fluttered at the sight of her, throwing her head back in the most horrible jokes her brother whispers in her ear as they barely finished wrapping the lumpiang shanghai - getting scolded for being slow by their father with her reaction being more laughing with her brother falling off the chair as their father cursed in Filipino.

He was thinking of how she was too short to reach the top of the Christmas tree, pouting at his teasing. Pouting even more when she had to cross her arms and swallow her pride, giving him one look and asking him to help her with putting the angel atop the tree.

The wondrous tone coming out her lips, eyes closed passionately with vigor trying to release all the emotions that echoes through song after song. Each time she sang a love song, his heart skipped a beat - imagining a fictional story with him and her together in love walking through a flowery road together.

But he knew, Nanami knew.

He could not be with her.

Especially now - if he was going to be putting her in danger.

Not to mention his love was one-sided, his long time friend still being in a relationship with someone else, someone whom she also loved.

She could never love him like that.

“Go talk to her.” His mother whispers to him, leaning her small body against his side.

“She’s talking with Marco.” He eyes her brother, who met his eyes for a moment. He looks away.

“But you haven’t talked the entire trip!” His mother seemed eager in her conviction.

Nanami sighed. “I’ve been bonding with you and father.”

His mother raised a brow, agitated at her son. “And yet you haven’t spared time to be with your closest friend? You can spare a thought for her. She had been worried sick about you!"

Nanami pursed his lips. His mother had been right. It is odd. They have barely talked since that night. Not even during the flight here did they speak. But what was there to say? Nanami Kento had no words, for the first time in his life, to express how he felt.

He just knows he feels them, like some believer of myth - he puts his faith in the thought that he knows how he feels. And he does not question them. But he had no means to lay them out as beautifully as others do. As truthful as others do. Especially not to her. He felt his heart tighten by itself. He could not allow her to be like Yu. He cannot let what happen to Riko become what becomes of her either.

This was better.

This was much better.

He had to protect her.

It was better like this.

Even if it is a lie, it was better.

Kento took a short breath, leaving his mother with a small apology in the kitchen space and without a word rushed towards the sliding doors. Pushing them astray and his body against the falling snow, Nanami Kento had felt like he should have grabbed his jacket first. But it was too late now.

His mind was going into overdrive, as though his body was going to tear itself apart with the pressure he placed upon himself. Wrapping his arms around his body, he felt the cold rapture him with its claws and pierced his skin. The lights were dimmed out here by the balcony, he could barely see a thing.

“Why am I out here?” He questions himself as he groans at his impulse. Removing his arms from his body, he took to his pockets and found the small box inclined amongst his palm. Opening it up, Nanami took a small piece and soon enough, caged it about his lips.

“I thought you wouldn’t smoke anymore.” Her voice echoed even in the depths of the cold, warming his ears for a moment. He heard the silence she displayed, closing the sliding doors. He did not turn his head, but rather proceeded to let his fingers flicker the lighter across the stick. “Ah….Kento.”

“I need it.” He whispers to her as she makes his way beside him.

Throwing his coat across his back, she sighed beside him. “You need this more.”

Fixing the coat around him as he abandoned his lit cigarette on his lips, Nanami Kento had let her watch the intricate movements in the cold surrender. There was a sparkle in her eye at the wonder of every bone stretching against the thick fabric. She sighed, pressing her hands across the fence. “I think I caused you a lot of stress.”

Letting out the smoke from his lips, he raised a brow at her. “What makes you think this?”

“You’ve never been tense like this.” She points out, her lips threading a pout. Nanami thought she was adorable. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

“You know how work has been for me lately, right?”

She laughs emptily. “I wouldn’t know. You never tell me anything these days.”

The pregnant pause followed. The cold had become their home, welcoming the two of them as the wind blew down upon them. Nanami Kento watched her eyes look onto the falling snow - rubbing her boots against the wooden panel sadly.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered to her in the gentle breath against the winter cold. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.”

She shook her head at him. Her eyes tell him otherwise. “It’s okay…..it was my fault too.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“No, it is.” The reply came swiftly. She gazed into his molten eyes and smiled sadly. “Cause I fell in love with you.”

Nanami blinked at her words, feeling the heat of the cigarette radiate through his cheeks. He looked at her, her beautiful cheeks flustered in red. Her hands became a barrier to him, hiding the embarrassment that came in waves, the relief that followed with those words being finally said out loud. A heavy breath came out into the winter air.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you right now.” Her words came as her hands expressed her face fully, in the glory of the scarlet features blended by the cold’s hitch and her body’s heat. Her hands turn into fits by her sides. "But I realized something."

His breath hitches deep. "You realized what?"

Her flustered face echoed deeper in scarlet shine. “I just want you to know…..I realized when you were gone, I couldn't feel my heart beating at all. When I was with him…..I was thinking about how you were doing. I was thinking about how I wanted to touch your hands. How I wanted to….How I wanted to wrap my arms around you and…just be with you.”

Nanami felt his cigarette fall into the snow, his mouth agape with what he’s hearing from her. He was stunned. Surprised. He was not expecting such words to come out of her mouth. Her reddened face felt the warmth of more tears, tears shed out of love. Tears that warmed his own heart, his body and soul fully.

“I don’t care if your work has become something dangerous, I’ll clean your wounds up!” Her voice pitched slightly, clenching her fists tighter. Her tears fell fully, falling against her coat. “I don’t care if they come after me, I know you’ll protect me anyway! I can hit them with frying pans too! But…..Kento, I just….”

She gasped in surprise as Kento wrapped his arms around her, almost like a bear tackling their partner to the ground. Nanami felt her warmth call to him, leaning his chin against her shoulder. Her heart thrashed harshly against his own, that she could feel. The embrace lasted a little while longer, with him causing a short distance - not wanting to be parted from her.

“I tried to lie to myself. I wanted to keep you away. To protect you….but to hear those words from you.” Looking into his eyes, she could see desperation. She could see wonder. But most of all, she could see love. For her. Only for her. “I don’t think I can let you go either.”

“Kento….”

“I love you too.” He whispered to her, gently morphing his body against her once again. Tighter. He wanted more of her. Every piece of her. Her soul, her heart. Her body. He wanted her. Only her. “I love you….so much.”

“Promise me….” She muttered to him, her hand touching his cheek. Memorizing each and every bit of skin. “You’ll never let me go again.”

Leaning against her touch, craving the warmth that only she can give. He smiles at her. “Never.”

His eyes shut as she wrapped her lips around his, her hands tangling onto his hair. Kento could not help but smile against her warm lips, his hands circling against her back. Kissing her back with vigour, Nanami Kento felt like he was the happiest man alive. He could not help but feel his joy radiate even in this winter fall. He was beloved by her. That was all that mattered now. Her in his arms, her lips against his. This was what mattered. This was the truth.

There is no more need for distance.

There is no more need for lies.

Only them.

Only her.

When they parted to catch their breaths, their eyes intertwined for an eternity. She smiled at him, her eyes radiating no tears - only happiness bountiful in her heart. Kento smiled back at her. The two giggled like young children, finding out the meaning of love.

“You think they made a bet if we were gonna tell each other?” Nanami whispered against her ear, helping her up from the snow.

Giggling, she nodded. “My mom told me where you were. I think they did have a bet!”

Kento gave her a grin. “I bet they never said we would kiss.”

“Hmmm….that’s a daring thing to say.”

“It doesn’t really matter.” He says, taking her face onto his hands. Leaning against it, her smile widened. “I already got you.”

“Hm….” She hummed happily, eyeing at him too. “I got you too.”

The two once again felt their lips collide in jubilant love.

Above them, the snow fell against the growing flower.

Tomorrow is tomorrow and today is today.

In the cold morning air, laying beside her. Nanami Kento smiled.

"Even if I die, it will still be you."

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