#but I know how vicious people can be over this matter

[reginrokkr]

Putting here an itty bitty PSA before going to sleep. With the spike of interest for many people in the new Honkai game, I fear that comparisons between both Genshin and Honkai will spike too which is... something I don't like to see. It's tremendously clear that when HYV wants to make glaring cameos and make use of their ownership of other games and bring them to one of them, they will as it happens with SR. My pet peeve for the most part is that concepts of Honkai keep being used for Genshin and keep being assumed as "this is that" when I feel that at this point Genshin is its own thing as Honkai and Honkai SR are their own. Yes, I know there are some similarities of characters and names. But I, too, have two eyes and from what little I skimmed over the dialogue of SR and my own experience playing it, I can tell that these references in Genshin stray far from the way it's being done in SR. What I want to ask of you peeps is that if you ever do what I mentioned earlier about building theories including both Honkai and Genshin into the mix at once, that you kindly tag it so I can blacklist the tag.

[cats-in-the-clouds]

my sister got engaged and we’re all really happy for her but my bitter rain cloud of a dad (who naturally she told last) is giving her a bit of passive aggressive grief about it despite her boyfriend being like the best man of our generation (presumably either because he’s not catholic or because my dad sees them as young dumb unemployed people who aren’t ready for marriage or because he’s mad he barely has any real love with his own wife or something). so like pray for us? i wish i knew what to do

[overwhelmed-overweight]

Alright, can we take a second to clarify what a binge is?

As someone with BED I'm so sick of seeing "oopsie doopsie I'm so fat, I binged on 3 slices of bread uwu" because it diminishes the struggles of people who ACTUALLY deal with binge-eating. And yes, I'm 100% gatekeeping, this shit is getting so out of hand.

Let's look at the definition of a binge:

Notice the keyword in all of these definitions: EXCESSIVE

A binge is not

Eating a normal sized meal and regretting it

Going past your calorie limit for the day

Just eating quickly

Eating until you're full (or just a little past)

"Oh nooo, I had 2 apples in 1 sitting, I binged so hard 🥺👉👈"

It's really fucking damaging to a lot of people when you try to make binge-eating look dainty and quirky.

I have functional control over my binges now so they are nowhere as bad as they used to be, but they were horrifying in the past. My binges entailed panic and a total lack of control. I've been in the midst of a panic attack while stuffing my face more than once. I've had many blackout binges in my life where I can't even recall having binged, but the evidence is all right in front of me. I've woken up with a bruised stomach lining, making it excruciating to even sit up for days. I've gotten lightheaded from eating so much and so fast that I'm not taking enough time to breathe. I've thrown up blood, bile, and acid after binges before. I've eaten so much that I've had to throw up, not in a purging way, but because the food physically isn't fitting in my fucking stomach. I'm so lucky I never ruptured my stomach, I honestly don't know how I didnt. But despite everything, no matter what, I would be right back to eating in as little as an hour. It's a vicious fucking cycle.

It's. not. fucking. cute.

You will KNOW when you have binged. Sure, it can look very different for different people, but the fact remains that there is a MASSIVE fucking difference between an actual binge and just eating a lot. Binges are often the result of an emotional AND physiological impulse, not just emotional eating.

Please just be more considerate with your wording the next time you go to tell everyone that your life is over because you ate a fucking granola bar.

[bunnyrafe]

𓊆ྀིWE NEED TO TALK !𓊇ྀི — when soft pogue!reader gets caught up, rafe decides it’s time for some discipline within their dynamic.

♥︎ 𝓃otes: apologies if it bothers you that the first section is in one POV and the rest is in another, just wanted to experiment a bit / set the scene. hope everyone enjoys xoxo

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. 1.2k. taboo / toxic themes. father figure bf!rafe & soft pogue!reader AU. controlling behavior, use of daddy & dad, manhandling, impact play (spanking w/ a belt), crying, aftercare.

rafe knows in his heart that his girl doesn't do things to upset him on purpose. at least that's what he would like to think.

he can't imagine her deliberately breaking rules, no matter how vicious her bratty streak may be. she's always been careful to not make him too upset, and is remorseful after the fact if she does manage to get under his skin or do something unsatisfactory. but sometimes, things can't be forgiven so easily.

it all started with a text. her phone vibrated on the bed and that cute, little ringtone she picked out echoed through the room, piquing rafe's interest. she's always given him access to her phone so today shouldn't be any different. he recognizes the name that’s displayed on her screen— a close friend. a fellow pogue.

u act like he's ur dad or smth don't let him control you like that

ugh stop it's not like that :(((

then what's the issue? ??? just sneak away while he's sleeping tonight lmfao

it stings a bit as he reads through the messages, because he knows these are things that normal people her age do. he knows that this is where their age difference becomes a problem even with the dynamic they’ve built…

i'll see what i can do

u better who gives af what that old kook thinks

at first, rafe really tries not to hold it against her. afterall they’re not her words. but as his mind wanders, and he reads over “i’ll see what i can do” time and time again, he wonders how many message threads like this she’s hidden from him and deleted. how many times she’s contemplated sneaking out as if he’d ever give her the opportunity to do such a thing.

he can’t help but start seeing red. he does everything in his power to keep her safe under his roof, only to receive things like this in return. she’ll always be a filthy pogue— he thinks to himself.

maybe he’ll just have to be more proactive when it comes to her.

when you step out of your bath, you immediately wrap yourself up in your fluffiest robe. you pad into your shared bedroom and think about which lotion ‘n mist you want to put on for the day, clearly content now that you’re all soft and clean.

but instead of making your way to your vanity, you immediately stop in your tracks upon seeing rafe’s belt laying on your duvet. it’s a sign that you don’t take lightly. even more so when you hear his footsteps behind you.

he breathes in deep before opening his mouth to speak. the sound of his voice makes you jump despite how calm he is, “go sit down on the bed f’me, angel.”

your eyes are already burning with tears.

rafe stands in front on you as you gingerly take your seat on the edge of the bed, nervously folding your trembling hands in your lap. yet your gaze follows rafe’s own hands intently when he suddenly pulls your phone out of the pocket of his slacks and holds it up with a familiar text thread on your screen— fuck.

“i promise, daddy!” you’re wailing before you can think about what you’re saying, “i wasn’t gonna sneak out!”

rafe purses his lips and nods, locking eyes with you, “oh, i believe you— but y’thought about it, didn’t you?”

you fall quiet. bottom lip wobbling because you know there’s no way you can possibly escape whatever he has planned for you. you don’t put up a fight when rafe guides you to turn around, when they lay you down and he tells you to stay that way in a stern voice. he yanks on the tie of your robe while you're tummy down, stripping it off of you until you're shivering in the cool air of your bedroom.

bare and nervously anticipating his next move.

out of the corner of your eye, you see him pick up his belt. you’re sure he’s wrapping the leather around his fist, getting a good grip so there’s no doubt in either of your brains that the first crack on your plump ass won't hurt like hellfire.

you smell so sweet and cozy to rafe’s nose, like warm sugar cookies and milk. it almost makes him feel bad for what he's about to do to you. especially when he sees you holding your little fawn that’s been resting on the bed to your chest for dear life, wiping your tears with her artificial fur and sniffling into your stuffed friend. his breathing falters for a second but his hands flex and grip around the leather in his fist nonetheless—

“you know the drill, angel face. take your punishment like a good girl ‘n you’ll be fine— dad’ll take good care of you afterwards.”

5 swats on your ass that you're commanded to keep high in the air. that’s all it is— but that doesn’t mean you’re not in hysterics after each one. squirming and sobbing into your bedding as pain induced heat spreads over your entire body, shakily counting after each one. you’re not sure what’s worse. the biting pain itself or the dull ache it brings on between your thighs.

the number you babble out is always followed by an apology ("i'm so sorry, daddy) and a sniffle that tugs on rafe's heart strings. he's more relieved than you are when he drops the belt to the ground with a thud. by then you're delirious.

rafe’s finger tips graze your stinging cheeks, forcing a mewl out of you before he steps around the bed and sits next to your shaking form. he welcomes you into his arms and you’re quick to grab at him, yanking on the crisp cotton of his button up as you situate yourself in his lap with a sore bum.

“wasn’t so bad, was it?” he whispers against your hairline, but you’re still too stunned to say anything in return—

“y’know, baby— i don’t like hurting you, not one bit, but i can’t have you— fuckin’ talking behind my back like that… especially not to your lil’ pogue friends,” he rubs your sides as speaks, “don’t you respect your daddy?”

“i know.” you whisper into his chest, “i promise i respect you, daddy— s’much… no more talking behind your back.”

“that’s my good girl.”

rafe gives you a fat kiss after that. he tucks his fingers under your chin and forces your pretty, little head to tilt towards him. his lips meet yours in such a needy but delicate way, it makes your head spin as you feel loved but understood in the most fucked up of ways— “my best girl,” he whispers into your pouty mouth while you try to chase after him for more smooches.

he pats your thigh, then his hand travels upwards to rub over the skin of your ass that’s hot to the touch. you wince at the contact.

“stay here f’me,” rafe says, and you’re nodding like a loyal puppy before he even explains himself, “gonna get your lotion and some water for you.”

you’re a little reluctant to let him leave, holding onto his larger hand until he swears he’ll be quick— yet you find yourself smiling as he walks away, head fully in the clouds. nothing about any of this is conventional. you never admitted it was… but maybe you’re finally at peace with the fact that no one else has to understand what happens between the two of you. not even your friends.

[ugotcooneycrossed]

keep pretending pretty girl • alessia russo

pt2: let you break my heart again

w/c: ~1.4k

alessia is adamant that shes straight, she just likes kissing you sometimes, and she just likes holding your hand, and she only likes it when you talk to her

a/n: OBVIOUSLY based off another song from the queen renee rapp

------------------------------------------------------------

“i love you.”

alessia is drunk- her cheeks are flushed, and her speech is slightly slurred, she’s teetering on the edge of completely falling over, the only thing stopping her is the door she’s leaning on.

“no like- seriously, i love, love you.”

you send her a small, tight-lipped smile- your head thumping back against the mirror of the bathroom counter you’re sat on.

it’s cramped in the small room- there’s only so many things you can look at to avoid staring into alessia’s eyes.

still, you avert your eyes from hers nodding your head. gripping the cup in your hands tighter as she inches closer to you.

a tight coil snakes its way into your chest and you sigh heavily.

“i love you too less.”

it’s not a lie- far from it in fact, you love her, you have since you were seventeen.

and alessia loves you too, only in private- when no one’s looking, stealing kisses from you late at night, and leaving you as soon as the sun comes up again.

drunken confessions, promises, and pleas- swearing to love you- and only you.

it’s all in vain though, as soon as the alcohol wears off and her phone pings with a new text from her boyfriend- she’s off without another word.

“i’m going to kiss you now.”

she falls into you- her hands finding themselves on top of your thighs to balance herself, her face inches away from you.

“less… you’ve got a boyf-“

and suddenly- all you can taste is the lingering tequila on her lips, all you can smell is her strawberry perfume, and all you can feel are her hands gripping your thighs tighter.

and you kiss her back again- cause maybe you’re a little drunk too, and maybe, no matter how much you try to stop yourself, you’re pathetic, and you love alessia.

she pulls away suddenly- her lips a little swollen and a dazed look in her eyes, her eyebrow furrows in concentration before a huge grin spreads across her face.

“oh my gosh­- i love this song!”

she grabs your hand- dragging you off the counter and out the bathroom.

the flat is cramped with people- a pre-season party thrown to celebrate the start of the new season.

and everyone is way too drunk and way too far gone to notice the way alessia keeps herself attached to you.

she’s swaying with you- despite the fast pace of the song, she has you wrapped up in her arms and rocks you slowly.

“less i think it’s time for you to go home.”

“but I want to stay with you- i love you.”

she’s looking into your eyes now- genuine and raw, but you know how this will go.

she’ll come back with you.

she’ll kiss you a little more.

then, she’ll fall asleep in your bed- you’ll take the couch of course.

and then; you’ll wake up to the sound of your flat door closing, the first rays of the sun filtering through the cracks in your blinds.

you know it’s a losing battle trying to find a way to say no to her.

“okay- come on, let’s get back to mine”

-

like always you wake up just as the door closes- flopping back onto the couch with a defeated sigh.

now you know the next part will go a little something like this;

she’ll ignore you for a few days.

she’ll make a big deal of missing her boyfriend.

she’ll be on the phone to him all the time.

then, be right by your side like nothing’s happened.

she’ll invite you to hang- and you do, because of course, you can’t say no to her.

and you’ll end up third wheeling.

a vicious cycle you can’t seem to drag yourself out of.

-

it started when you followed her to UNC you think- young, dumb, naïve- and absolutely infatuate with your best friend.

best friends- who never wanted to be apart, you both turned down pro contracts to go to the US. attached at the hip, co-captains for the tar heels, you did practically everything together.

you were there for her first boyfriend, and consequently her first heartbreak.

as her best friend though.

that’s all you were- and you were okay with that, even if seeing her talk to anyone else brought a bitter taste to your mouth.

and so maybe, one night, she had a little too much to drink- and she kissed you, right on the lips.

“i think i like girls but shhhhh! you can’t tell anyone.”

she whispers it to you- before passing out on your bed.

and the next day when she wakes up- she doesn’t remember the kiss, or she wants to forget it. you wouldn’t bring it up either way.

but then it happens again, and again, and again.

and you’re sucked into an endless loop of alessia kissing you, ignoring you, then acting like nothing happened- only to kiss you again.

then, she’s off signing with united, and you with arsenal- and it stops.

then when the national team calls both of you up- it starts again.

now alessia is with arsenal- and you’re completely fucked.

-

you’re dead tired, and quiet when you show up to training a couple days after the party- unusual on any normal day, but routine after whatever it is, that happens with alessia.

the blonde girl looks up at you from her cubby when you walk into the room- but just as quickly averts her eyes, picking up her phone and slipping out the room without a second thought.

you roll your eyes at her.

you can almost predict exactly what is happening on the other side of the door.

lotte- who was there to witness the mess you were every day after alessia kissed you at UNC, nudges you.

“you know- you can like, i don’t know, talk to other girls?”

“shut up lotte.”

“i’m just saying.”

she holds her hands up in defence- but the sympathetic smile never leaves her face.

“i’ve tried- don’t you think i have?”

cause you have- really.

not that you remember their names, or their faces.

cause all you really remember from them is that their lips weren’t nearly as nice as alessias, their hands weren’t as soft, and they didn’t know where to kiss you to leave you weak in the knees.

 “let me set you up?”

narrowing your eyes at her you go to protest- but she interrupts you before you can speak.

“just try at least, take your mind off of her for one night.”

-

you arrive earlier than lotte told you to- an excuse to start drinking to calm your nerves.

the restaurant is nice- definitely somewhere for a couple to go, dim lighting and light music floating through the room.

lotte’s friend shows up when you’re already a little tipsy- sitting across from you and smiling from across the table. the conversation between you two is boring, and you stopped listening a while ago.

you order another drink, and then another- then your vision is spinning and lotte’s friend harley, or hayley, or- well you don’t exactly remember her name, ‘cause she’s starting to look a little like alessia, and you’re one more shot away from making a bad decision.

“hey (y/n)- what’re you doing here?”

and she’s starting to sound like her too?

you blink- lotte’s friend coming into focus in front of you and alessia is standing by your table.

“less?”

she’s staring at you now- eyebrows raised and nodding to the girl across from you.

you try to wrack your brain for the name- but alessia is looking a little too good right now and you’re mouth has gone a little dry.

“im lotte’s friend- grace.”

alessia hums at that- her eyes still not leaving yours.

“you are…”

grace- you now remember, questions alessia.

“alessia.”

“great- can i get back to my date now alessia.”

alessia’s eyes still haven’t left yours- she barely acknowledges your date and the atmosphere between you three is tense, you sink down into your seat, eyes flickering between the two, trying to catch your breath. 

“sure thing.”

alessia disappears- slipping away and back to what you assume is her boyfriend.

whatever her name is goes back to speaking but you can’t focus on anything.

cause alessia is here.

alessia is here- and you’re supposed to be forgetting her.

but of course- as fate would have it, the blonde texts you a moment later.

lessi to ‘you’

-> bathroom in 5??

[stepbrorafe]

Devil May Care - RC

summary : after getting a small taste of your stepbrother, you crave more. desperate times call for desperate measures.

warnings : stepcest, swearing, jealous!Rafe, rough sex, choking, slapping, spit kink, breeding kink, that’s all i can think of

a/n : Movie Night continuation, sorry 4 the wait 😔💪🏼

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

A very long and excruciating week of teasing has passed; subtle touches, suggestive comments, sexy smirks. You were slowly losing it. Rafe knew exactly what to do to leave you desperate for more. And boy were you desperate.

The way he made you feel last week has been on your mind nonstop. You’ve never been touched the way he touched you, no man ever comparing to him. He made your body burn with an overwhelming pleasure, one that you’ve been craving ever since.

No matter how bad you want it, you can’t bring yourself to act on it. The thought of taking initiative the way he did struck you with vicious anxiety. You know he wants it, and that he’s just getting off on teasing you, but the fear of being rejected is far too strong to make you step out of your comfort zone. Especially with your stepbrother.

To say you’re frustrated would be an understatement. You’ve been craving his hands on you, inside you. You know it’s wrong, but fuck, it feels so right.

You can’t help but be snappy with the people surrounding you, you’re just yearning for something you can’t have and it’s exasperating. Rafe can see the effect he’s had on you and it strokes his ego entirely too much for your liking.

You rack your brain, trying to come up with something that will make him cave and give you what you want. You’ve never been so needy for a man before, and it makes you internally scream at yourself. Rafe’s awoken something in you that won’t seem to go to rest.

After a while of thinking, you find yourself in front of your mirror, admiring the sight. Your body sports a thin white dress that hugs your chest perfectly, showcasing your taut nipples. The bottom flows just under the curve of your ass, in which one wrong move will flash your pretty pink thong.

Your devious and impulsive mind decides to do what you think will work best—make Rafe jealous. As he’s the very jealous type for whatever the case is, you think it’ll work in your favor. So, that’s why you rub your plump lips together, rubbing your shiny lip gloss in. Flashing a satisfied smirk at your reflection, you make your way downstairs where you can hear Rafe and Topper chatting.

It takes you all of thirty seconds to make your way into the living room where the two reside. They’re both sat on different sofas, and you choose to sit right beside Topper, eager to get on with your little plan.

The second Rafe’s eyes take you in, his face hardens. He’s instantly tightening his jaw, already suspicious of you.

“Hey Top, Rafe.” You greet them with an innocent smile.

“Y/N! You look—wow.” Topper marvels, his eyes raking over your entire body.

You grin, leaning even closer to him. “Thank you. You look pretty delicious yourself.”

“What are you doing?” Rafe cuts in, his eyes shooting daggers into you.

You turn your head in his direction, a fake frown pulling to your lips. “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head, slightly squinting his eyes as he reiterates, “What are you doing?”

You bite back the smirk that threatens to plaster itself on your face, innocently shrugging, “Just figured I’d come hangout with my brother and his friend.”

“Stepbrother.” He grits, correcting you with a sharp gaze.

Topper tosses an arm around your shoulders, leaning back into the couch. “You’re welcome to chill any time.”

“Don’t touch her.” Rafe bites, unable to help himself.

You and Topper share a look of confusion before landing on Rafe, staring incredulously. Though, you have more of a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“What?” Topper chuckles.

“Get your hand off of her.” Rafe snarls, acknowledging the look of suspicion from his friend and continuing, “You already went through one sister, you don’t get another.”

Topper slowly retracts his arm from you, taking in how serious Rafe suddenly became, and not wanting to endure any of his wrath. He crosses his arms, avoiding eye contact with Rafe.

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes, placing your small hands around his bicep. “We’re just having fun, right Top?”

If possible, Rafe’s glare hardens as he watches you. He knows you’re up to something, and though he doesn’t know exactly what, he’s becoming more and more agitated with your antics.

“You boys want anything to drink?” You question, quickly standing, not bothering to readjust your risen dress.

“Ye-“

Rafe cuts Topper off, “We’re fine. Quit being sick and leave us alone.”

You pout, turning on your heel to face him, swiveling back and forth, “What am I doing?”

He sighs, rolling his eyes, “Shut up, you know what you’re doing. Go on now.” His eyes dart to Topper, “Keep your eyes off her ass, dude.”

You smirk to yourself, knowing your devious little plan is working, and saunter off to the kitchen to grab a water that you don’t even really want. You’re quick with grabbing the bottle from the fridge, eager to head back into the living room.

Rafe’s eyes are instantly on you when you return, almost as if he’s anticipating your next move. You shoot him a little smirk, causing him to narrow his eyes. You ‘accidentally’ drop your water in front of Topper, and slowly bend over to pick it up, showcasing your plump ass.

Rafe’s breathing grows ragged, his body tensing up with lust and anger. He sees right through you now, knowing exactly what you’re doing. Unfortunately for him, it’s working.

Topper has to tear his eyes away from you as you return to your seat next to him. He’s completely oblivious to what’s going on, he’s just painfully aware of how good you look, and it’s almost impossible to avert his eyes.

The two continue their conversation, you paying no mind as you twiddle your fingers. You pull your hair tie off of your wrist and pull it back and forth, occupying yourself as you think of what to do next.

You can see that Rafe is tense and riled up. He’s mad at you. You grin to yourself at knowing it’s working. You want nothing more than for him to fuck your brains out. He gave you a little taste the other night, and now you’re starving for more.

You sit and wonder what all he’s going to do to you, and the endless thoughts get you hot and bothered. You catch yourself clenching your thighs, attempting to soothe the building ache between your legs with even the slightest friction.

Your actions don’t go unnoticed by Rafe. His hands rest on his groin, tugging at his pants and shifting slightly in his seat in an effort to hide his growing bulge. You can do the bare minimum and it still gets him going. He just wants to bend you over the couch and fuck you silly, punish you for acting like a brat.

Biting your inner cheek to keep yourself from smiling, you flick your hair tie at Topper’s knee and it falls between his legs.

“Oops, sorry.” You pout, sliding down to grab it.

You position yourself in front of him, kneeling between his legs as you lean forward to retrieve it. You notice his breath hitch as you’re so close to him and it makes you smile to yourself.

Rafe is furious. He doesn’t want you on your knees for anyone other than him. He’s grown sick of your little act.

Just as you place your hand on Topper’s knee to lift yourself back up, Rafe’s hand is in your hair as he pulls you up himself. His eyes never leave you as he grits his teeth, “Go home, Top.”

His eyes widen as he looks up at you two, confusion washing over his face. “What?”

“Go. Home.” Rafe repeats, finally breaking his stare from you and glaring at his friend.

With a few small swears of bewilderment, Topper’s standing up and heading out the door. Once it’s closed, Rafe’s hold on your hair tightens, straightening you up.

“You think it’s cute? Hm? Touching all up on Top?” He sneers, his opposite hand gripping your jaw as he lifts your face up to look at him. “Make you feel good?”

“I don’t want him.” Is all you can get out before he’s pulling you towards the stairs.

“I’ll give you something to touch.”

You both get to his room within seconds, and he’s eagerly locking the door and turning towards you with dark eyes and a clenched jaw.

“You just can’t keep that pretty little mouth shut, can you?” He tsks, pushing you onto your knees as he undoes his belt. “Open it up then.”

Your insides are burning with desire and excitement, beyond pleased with the outcome of your plan. You can’t stop clenching around nothing, longing to be filled by him. Just the simple thought has your entrance seeping with arousal.

He slowly removes his belt from the loops of his pants and steps closer to you, “Hands.”

Your eyes widen as you slowly give him what he wants, your heart racing as he wraps the belt around your hands, tightly securing them. You let them fall in your lap as he undoes his pants, pulling them and his boxers down, revealing his throbbing erection.

Your mouth waters at the sight. His dick is long and thick, such a pretty pink tip, veins running along the shaft. He looks painfully hard, and knowing it’s because of you makes your stomach flutter with butterflies.

He brings his hand to your jaw, softly running his fingertips over your skin. The pad of his thumb rubs your bottom lip before roughly poking into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. The way your plump lips wrap around his thumb makes his cock throb.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy.” He rasps, “I’m going to ruin you.”

He removes his thumb, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you. His hand wraps around his thick member, sighing from the pleasure. The thought of what he’s going to do to you fills him with an excitement he’s never felt before.

Tapping the head on your lips, he smirks, “Open.”

You do as he says, your tongue slightly protruding. He slowly shifts forward, his cock entering your salivating mouth. The second your lips close around him, his breath hitches and he’s fighting the urge to toss his head back. It feels so good, but he can’t take his eyes off of you.

He places his hands on the sides of your face, holding you steady as he begins thrusting in and out of your mouth. His groans fill the air, encouraging you to take him. Wet gargles and gags emit from you as he fucks your mouth deeper and deeper.

Tears brim in your eyes as he glides down your throat, dribbles of drool falling from the sides of your mouth.

“Look at you.” Rafe grunts, removing his hands from your face to pull his shirt off, before grabbing you again. “So desperate for my cock.”

His thrusts grow faster, the wet sounds from your mouth become louder. He’s full on using your throat as a toy to get him off. And you love every bit of it.

He takes his bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth gnawing down on it to prevent his moans from slipping. You look so pretty on your knees, cheeks coated in mascara stained tears, slobber running from your mouth, luscious lips wrapped around his dick. He could cum from the sight of you like this.

His grip on your face tightens as his cock abuses your throat. He shoves himself all the way in and holds it there, your nose pressed against his pelvic bone. He can feel your throat repeatedly opening and closing around him, instantly sending him into a euphoric state.

His abdomen flexes as waves of pleasure flood his body. His thighs twitch and his cock throbs, finally emptying his hot load down your throat with a loud moan. He gives a few more pumps before he removes himself from you, leaving you to swallow his cum.

After doing so, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, showing him that you took it all. He grins, his hand encasing your face as he squeezes your cheeks together, causing your lips to pucker in a slight pout.

“Such a good little slut for me.” He huskily breathes.

You nod as best you can with his grip on your face. He licks his lips and pulls you up to your feet, staring down at you with a look of utter desire.

“Hm.” He hums, brushing a hand through your hair. “Bet you want more, don’t you, Sis?”

You frantically nod as your heart pounds in your chest, your pussy throbbing with a carnal craving for him. “Yes. Please.”

He gives you that infamous smirk, one that should scare you away because you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, but it only drawls you in more.

“As much as I love it.. Take it off.” He declares, nodding towards your little dress.

Your hands instantly grab the hem of the dress, swiftly pulling it over your head, leaving you in nothing but your pink panties. Your nipples harden from the cool air, and you bring your arms to your sides to provide warmth.

His eyes trail over your entire body, his semi hard cock already growing once again. His hands reach the sides of your thighs, warm fingertips trailing over your skin. They glide upwards, tracing over the strap of your thong. Dipping his fingers into the waistband, he pulls it out and lets it snap back against you.

Your breath hitches in anticipation, your core saturating the small fabric between your legs. His hands make their way up your body, touching every bit of skin. He firmly fondles and caresses every curve, memorizing every dip. Prominent goosebumps arise on your skin as his hands roam over it.

Your big doe eyes haven’t left his once, taking in the way he seems to be soaking you in. His palms softly engulf your tits, squeezing them tightly and massaging them in circles. His actions pull a soft moan from you as your head tilts a bit to the right.

“Fuck.” He whispers, stepping closer to you so that your bodies are flushed together. “You’re so perfect.”

Your face heats up at his compliment, burning beneath his touch as he places a hand on your cheek. His lifts your face up, his thumb delicately brushing over your cheek. His touches are so soft as if he’s not about to destroy you.

Leaning down, his lips meet yours in a gentle kiss, almost as if testing the waters. He places a few more. Then, like he can’t get enough, his mouth is on yours in a feverish kiss. He kisses you so deeply as one hand holds your face, and his opposite trails around to your ass.

He squeezes it harshly, pulling a moan from your mouth. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in between your parted lips, exploring the wet softness of your mouth. Your tongues dance together, moving perfectly in sync.

Rafe can’t believe it’s taken this long for you guys to kiss. He’s tasted you, buried his fingers in you, and his cock in your mouth, yet you’re only now kissing.

He’s never felt this way before. Kissing is usually just something he does to keep his mouth busy when fucking someone. But right now, with you, he doesn’t want to pull away. So, he doesn’t.

His hand moves from your cheek down to your neck, squeezing tightly as the kiss grows sloppier. He walks you backwards to the bed, falling on top of you when the back of your knees hit it.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from your lips and leaves wet kisses down your jaw and to your neck. He licks and bites your sensitive skin, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

He continues lowering himself on you, his lips leaving trails of saliva along your collarbones. His teeth nip your skin, tongue flickering just to taste you. His mouth meets every sliver of skin shown, none of you going untouched.

Your body is hot beneath him, and your insides feel even hotter. Your chest heaves with every deep breath you take, small pants and moans emitting from your mouth as he works on you. Your forehead begins to glisten with sweat, the air now hot around the two of you.

Rafe’s hands grasp your tits, thumbs instantly flicking over your hard nipples. He groans against your chest, inhaling the way you smell. His tongue pokes out, traveling to your boobs, his mouth marking the plump skin. He takes your right nipple in his mouth, sucking it and the skin around it as his hand words your opposite one.

You can’t help but arch into him, loving the feeling he’s giving you. You’ve been wanting this so bad, and now that you’re finally getting it, you’re on cloud nine.

“Rafe.” You whimper as he moves to your left tit.

“Mhm. I know, baby.” He moans into you.

Leaving your boobs wet with his saliva, he keeps going lower and lower, peppering wet open mouthed kisses along your stomach. He reaches the waistband of your panties and places a soft kiss.

You’re practically shuddering beneath him. The fabric between your legs is absolutely drenched with your arousal.

Rafe’s lips trail over the wet cotton, humming in satisfaction, “So fucking wet for me.”

His nose brushes against your clothed clit, causing your body to jerk from the feeling. He smirks against you, and deeply inhales, taking in the scent of you with a hungry moan. His tongue pokes at your covered entrance and trails up your core, flicking over your bundle of nerves.

“So wet I can taste you through your panties.” He smirks, his finger grabbing at the side of the fabric.

He looks up at you, licking his lips at the way your mouth is slightly parted, heavy breaths emitting from it. He pulls the side of your panties over, revealing your glistening folds. With a watering mouth, he dips his tongue into your entrance and drags it up through your lips, right over your clit. You can’t help the lewd moan that’s pulled from your throat.

Not stopping there, Rafe drags his tongue up your stomach and through the valley of your breasts. He breathes you in deeply as his tongue glides up your neck, making his way towards your lips. He smashes his mouth onto yours, moaning into you, knowing he’s about to have so much fun and make you feel so good.

Your lips dance together in a sloppy kiss, tongues fighting, teeth clashing. Your hands meet his broad shoulders, running down his muscular biceps. His hands run from your rib cage down to your waist, grinding his groin on yours. You pull away with a gasp, moaning at the sensation.

He leans back up on his knees between your legs. You watch as he wraps his hand around his shaft, slowly pumping it up and down. You roll your hips, needing some sort of friction as you’re desperate to be filled by him.

He puckers his lips and blows a kiss at you as he places the tip of his cock on your covered pussy. He begins rubbing it over the wet fabric, gliding up and down your slit, pulling soft moans from both of you.

“Feel good, baby?” He coos as you lean your head back.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, unable to form words with the trance he’s put you in.

He pulls your panties to the side once more, sliding his dick through your folds. The second he runs over your clit, your legs quiver. He lets go of your panties, holding them down over his member as he thrusts back and forth.

His head lolls to the side, taking a deep breath through his nose. The feeling of your soaking core and the wet fabric surrounding him is pleasurable enough to bring him close to the edge. Except, he’s not ready to cum again.

He pulls away, leaving you whining at the loss of contact. He grins and lets out a breathy chuckle, before his hands are gripping your hips and flipping you over with ease. You squeal at the sudden rough movement, but quickly get on your knees, arching your back as you lay your cheek on the pillow.

“Fuck.” Rafe groans, gripping your plump ass. “You’ve no idea what you do to me. So close to bending you over the couch and fucking you right in front of Top.”

A moan slips from your mouth as he kneads the fat, spreading your cheeks as he massages you.

“Yeah.. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He snickers, “Love to act all innocent, but you’re really just a desperate little whore, begging to be filled by her stepbrother. Hm?”

You can only whimper at his words.

“You wouldn’t even care if everyone knew, would you? No… You wouldn’t.. You’d walk around a party with my kids dripping down your legs if I told you to.”

“P-please.” You beg, pushing your ass further into him.

“So needy.” He teases, finally pulling your thong down.

He stops at your knees, deciding to rip the thin fabric off, so he can keep you in this delicious position. A pout forms on your lips at the sound of him tearing your panties, but you don’t say anything because you know it’s going to be worth everything he’s about to give you.

He places his member at your slit, rubbing it through your folds to coat it in your fluids. Your breathing is erratic, and your stomach is flooding with excitement. You can’t help but push back into him again. His hand falls down on your ass with a loud smack, leaving a stinging sensation as you yelp.

“Be patient.” He orders.

His hand is instantly rubbing the red handprint, soothing the pain he left behind. Leaning over your ass, he puckers his lips and spits, watching the jewel of saliva trickle down your core. Just as it meets the tip of his cock that’s placed as your entrance, he’s slowly pushing into you until he bottoms out.

“Oh my god.” You gasp, your breath suddenly ripped from your lungs.

You feel so full. Fuller than you’ve ever been in your entire life. There’s a burning sensation, but it doesn’t compare to the pleasure you get just from him being buried inside you. You can’t help but clench around him.

“So fucking tight.” He groans, “Squeezing the hell out of me, sis.”

He slowly pulls back until just his tip is in you, and roughly rams back in, pulling a scream from you. He groans in pleasure as he begins pumping in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts.

“R-Rafe.” You whine out, repeatedly clenching around him.

His cock slides in and out of you with ease, the sound of your arousal squelching around you. His hands grip your ass, pulling you hard against him to meet every thrust.

“God, you feel so good.” He moans, picking up the force in his strokes.

Your ass jiggles in waves with every time he buries himself in you. The sound of your skin slapping is loud. His thrusts become fast and hard, digging into you so deep. Your hands clench the sheets beneath you, and you bite your arm to prevent yourself from screaming. It hurts so good.

The sound of your muffled noises bring Rafe’s attention from where you’re both connected to the back of your head. His hand instantly wraps around your hair and roughly tugs your head back.

“Nuh uh. Wanna hear your pretty little moans.”

As if it’s possible, his cock digs deeper into your spongy walls, pulling a loud pornographic moan from your mouth. Your whole body shakes with every movement of his.

“Yeah.. That’s more like it. Sound so fucking sexy.” He groans, smacking your ass as he pounds you.

At this point, you can’t help the continuous cries and moans that fall from your mouth. Tears stream down your cheeks, and your mouth is stuck slack. Drool falls from your lips, creating a small wet spot on the pillow below you.

Rafe pushes on your back, arching you even more as he leans over you. He’s so deep, it feels like he’s fucking your throat. He kisses your back, licking up your spine until he gets to your neck. His heavy pants and moans fill your ear, his hot breath leaving your hair standing up.

“What if mom and dad saw you like this?” He taunts in your ear. “What do you think they’d say? Hm?”

With every word he says, he digs deeper into your cunt. So deep that you’re almost crawling away. His grip on your hair tightens and he’s yanking your head back, keeping you still so he can fuck you as deep as he wants.

“Don’t run. This is what you wanted, right?”

Incoherent words fall from your lips, being overtaken by your loud moans. Rafe’s reveling in the fact that he’s damn near fucked you stupid already.

“S’too much!” You cry out, finally able to string words together.

He instantly pulls out and flips you over onto your back, before burying himself in you within seconds. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he fills you back up.

“This better for you? Hm?” Rafe grunts as he thrusts into you, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. “Yeah. Missed your pretty face anyways.”

He watches as your face scrunches up in pleasure. Your brows knit together, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth stuck open as continuous lewd noises emit from it. You look so fucking perfect. He wants to have you like this forever.

“Your pussy feels so nice around me.” Rafe moans into your neck. “So good. Whose is it?”

You don’t respond with words, causing him to pull away and roughly grip your jaw. He stares down at you, his hand coming down on your face with a rough smack as he reiterates between hard strokes, “Whose pussy is this?”

“Mm. Y-yours. Rafe’s. F-fuck, it’s yours.” You cry out as the knot in your stomach becomes increasingly tighter.

His lips slam onto yours as his hips rut into you, the two of you molding together so perfectly. He kisses you like you’re the oxygen he needs to survive. It takes your breath away and you love every second of it.

Pulling away from your lips, his fingers replace his tongue and are shoving into your mouth. He pulls a gag from you as his nose brushes against yours. Using his fingers to pull your mouth open, he spits in it, then fiercely kisses you as his hand travels down your body.

Just as he brings his hand down to rub your clit, you hear a door slam downstairs. You immediately tense up, but Rafe doesn’t falter. He continues to relentlessly pound into you, making it so fucking hard to be quiet.

“Uh-oh.” He feigns fear, “Someone’s coming.”

Despite his words, he doesn’t let up on his thrusts or his circles on your clit. His taunting eyes bore into you as he watches your entire body quake.

“Do you want me to stop?” He teases, instantly slowing his strokes.

“No!” You cry out, “No, no! Fuck. Please-please don’t stop.”

He picks the pace back up, causing your insides to twist. “You sure? We might get caught.”

His tantalizing words push you over the edge. Your legs shake and your eyes roll back, your pussy clenching around him so tightly. Euphoria floods your veins, and white stars dance in your eyes. Your juices pour out of you faster and harder than they ever have before.

He loudly groans at the sight of you coming undone beneath him, “Fuck, I knew you were a slut. Getting off at the thought of being caught with your stepbrother. Such a naughty girl.”

You can’t help the moans that leave your mouth as he pumps in and out of you. His strokes grow sloppy, indicating he’s close. His hands meet your tits, gripping them and using them as leverage to keep you still while he fucks you.

You clench around him once more, coming down from your high, and it makes his hips stutter as he fills you up with a loud moan. He keeps fucking into you deep, emptying his load so far into you. You moan from the warm gushy feeling of him painting your walls.

Very slowly, he comes to a halt, but before he can pull out, loud knocks ring through the door and Sarah’s voice is heard from the other side. “Rafe! Who the fuck do you have in there?! You guys are loud as fuck, it’s gross.”

Your eyes widen in fear and Rafe just smirks down at you, calling out to her, “Oh, just my favorite slut.”

Her words of disgust fall on deaf ears as she walks away, leaving the two of you to bask in the pleasure you both received. Your doe eyes staring up at him, his warm eyes gazing down at you, filled with adoration.

“I mean it by the way.” He whispers against your lips. “You are my favorite.”

You roll your eyes as a blush paints your cheeks, “I better be your only.”

He chuckles and plants a sweet kiss on your lips, “Of course you are. That’s why you’re my favorite. Now let’s go shower, I’m not done with you yet.”

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

taglist : @sunkissedrafe @wickedtactics @bunnycvnts @butterflyoceandreams @rafesgiirl @yourenogoodforme @marvelfanfics1recs @cini-mini27 @pinkribboncoco @drewsphswife @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog

[hatosaur]

it's pretty implied that ellie never came out to joel in the proper sense. she lets him assume that she's into men, gives him the false satisfaction of "seeing" her "crush" on jesse, does not correct him. she's fairly confident in being gay in public for others to see and having others close to her know; so why not correct him? why dodge the topic?

was it out of fear? could it be that she never broached the topic despite being close to him in the early years because of the possibility of his reaction being negative? that she was afraid that out of all things that could force them apart (further apart after they split), him reacting badly to her being gay would be the worst?

what about at the dance? would she have been as wound up as she was if the moment hadn't been an encounter with a vicious homophobe? maybe she would've still snapped without this context, but why is she immediately on the defensive against joel after he sticks up for her?

what about the porch scene? why did she refute his question of dina being her girlfriend so insecurely, looking away, nervously and quietly stumbling over words? why isn't she mean about it? why doesn't she get defensive at the question? why did she lash out again when he expressed acceptance?

i think these scenes revolving around her queerness indicate it as such; that ellie never told joel for fear of a response, that she lets him think what he wants because that's the easiest way for it to be. then, when she's ready to face off against a homophobe, because that's the way things are, that's what she can expect, and joel defends her, she lashes out.

it's such a clear juxtaposition of support and hatred between joel and seth, and being faced with joel's acceptance is too much, makes her turn to the anger she'd been holding onto and reinforce what she thinks is true -- that she doesn't need him. and in the fallout, as her regret dawns on her, so too does the realization; he was protecting her, like always, without hesitation, over this thing she was always afraid he wouldn't accept her for.

in the porch scene, joel chooses his words wisely, and asks if dina is her girlfriend -- not "so you're gay?" or "why did you never tell me?" or "how long has this been a thing?" -- with such a casuality that it seems to throw her off. it's like ellie can hardly get the words out. she refutes the idea, fumbles for each following part of her response, is tense. she wasn't prepared for the question.

and when he finally asserts his support for her, in as explicit terms as he can, you can see ellie become emotional, touched for a moment but overcome, before she launches into the defensive again, exactly like at the dance scene -- meeting his kindness with hostility as a way to cope with her emotions.

and then, in response to her basically saying her life doesn't matter, he affirms that it does.

so he's now affirmed two things that ellie has doubted: that he accepts her being a lesbian, and that her life matters. a conflation of the two, in ellie's mind, may have come after; and after that, her olive branch.

and yeah, him affirming these things for her is fully in the context of his overwhelming parental love for her and her complex feelings about being the cure, but within a queer subtext, it means more. it's such a familiar thing to slink around loved ones and hide being gay/queer for fear of any type of response, and lying by omission in conversation just to keep that state of peace, of normalcy. ellie, with all her brutishness and bravery, falls into it like anyone else, because even while mad at him, she valued that response from him.

a lot of people seem to think that the approach to ellie's queerness is nonchalant, that it's just some unrelated thing about her, but i think that it holds more weight in the narrative that what is explicitly spelled out. it's subtle but it was a deliberate choice to place her queerness at the center of the confrontation. i think that's why ellie's relationship with dina took center stage in the story, and why so much time is devoted to just them -- because her being queer matters to her character, but in a way that perhaps only a queer person can see, analyze, and appreciate (without being blatant enough to anger certain other fans).

[drdemonprince]

At one point he was down in between my legs, fingering me, and he made a throwaway comment about probably being Autistic. 

I leaned back, trying to relish what pleasure I was getting. “Well, we can talk about that subject, if you like,” I said vaguely, not really wanting to bring my professional life into things. 

He kept working away at my body, kissing between my lips and thighs. “Oh I know who you are,” he said suddenly. “Your book changed my life. In a way, I guess this is me thanking you.” 

I made him exit my body and we went to the kitchen to hash it out. It turned out he was a big fan of many things I’d written. 

“I’ve seen you around the neighborhood many times,” he confessed. “But you posted online that you don’t like when people come up to you, and so I always decided to leave you alone.” 

He said, “Your book is the reason I got divorced, actually. My ex-husband was a therapist, and when I showed him your book and said I thought I might be Autistic, he didn’t believe me. We have been separated for a year.” 

He asked, “Did I just make this weird, telling you when I did that I was a fan?” I told him that if he’d said it sooner, I would have never fucked him at all. 

People never realize that when they approach me, what they are doing is dragging me into work. It doesn’t matter whether I was at breakfast, or an orgy. I was just some guy standing there, enjoying his beer, but now they have made me the known scholar and author. And sure, my job might be meaningful, but that doesn’t mean I like to work. 

I tell my friend that I no longer want to be a public figure, and that I am planning how to make it all end. She tells me, “You’ve got to do what is the best for you, even if it’s something that the rest of us wants and can’t imagine giving up.” 

I ask myself, did I want this? It would be more flattering to say I didn’t, and play the role of the hermetic author whose work developed its own life purely because it was so good. But that isn’t true. 

From the moment I got a Myspace account in high school, I was publishing essays about my political views. I serialized multiple novels on Tumblr, guerilla marketing them with giveaways and custom-made images until they hit the Kindle sales charts. I have made memes, tried starting viral trends, coined phrases, and given hundreds of hours’ worth of media interviews. I write prescriptive nonfiction, for Christ’s sake. Of course people seek guidance from me. I offer it up! 

I have been strategic about how I dress, and my video backdrops, and retaken clips of myself speaking over and over again until they sounded right. I’ve hosted debates with my most vicious critics while I’m in the shower, started public beef with creators who had larger accounts than I did, and rushed to my keyboard when upsetting news broke, because I alone was possessed of the most correct take on it.

I wanted this. I didn’t know what this was, this internet fame I was chasing, but I did all I could to make it mine. I thought that by writing so much, I would one day be able to escape myself, maybe really feel connected to other people. Instead it has meant never being able to stop thinking about myself: how I am seen, what I am working on, how it all fits together, what comes next. It has also meant being spoken about, theorized about, and criticized, and developing a firm exoskeleton of disdain between myself and the world. 

I believe now that that it is immoral for any person to be listened to by ninety thousand other people. Holding authority and status like that runs counter to my anarchic ideals. I am not more important or correct than anyone. I should not be trusted to tell people which commodities to buy, which companies not to support, what to read, what to think, what words to use, or how to conduct their lives. 

All the other animals know there is no one way that a creature “should” live. There is only the way that it does. The world has no consciousness, no beliefs. It cannot pass judgment. We only feel so watched and evaluated because we have covered the planet with so many millions of our eyes. But we can stop performing dignified human goodness at any moment. 

I think that celebrity is an evil, corrupting force that pits the human instinct for bonding against itself. Instead of appreciating the singing of our friends around the fire, we stream Chappell Roan until stalkers break into her house. Rather than playing card games together, we stan Twitch streamers, filling up their chats with highlighted messages until they acknowledge us. We long to be famous novelists because then we would have the social permission to write, and we don’t have the money or time to enjoy the activity on its own. 

I wrote about Chappell Roan, stalker stans, and how turning art into content creation ruins the work, and the creator's life. It's free to read in full (or have narrated to you by the app!) on Substack.

[justporo]

Hey you :D

Here’s a request just to add your huge list for after vacation muahaha 💖

How do you think a slow, bickering romance with Astarion (kinda like Howl and Sophie) would go down.

Hey darling ❤️ You might’ve forgotten about this ask but I have not! I'm combining this with another one asking about where Astarion rejected Tav at first but then slowly fell for them.

Also haven't done one of this headcanon posts for a whole haven't we? Here we go:

Headcanons about Astarion slowly but surely falling in love with you (and how he pursues you)

Oh, it's all just a game for him, isn't it? At least at first. But this silly little jester didn't realise he was playing himself.

He might have rejected you at first (because he's a prick who has looked at the sun a little too long, let's be honest) but he quickly realises he can't take his mind off of you

You keep stirring the vampire's undead little heart and it scares him at first - and of course you had given up on it after that first hurtful rejection

But his crimson eyes start to never stray far from you, no matter if in battle or at camp: he can't tear his gaze from you - gods dammit, you're lovely!

It's in the way you always put others first, always have a kind word to spare, always a warm smile. How you laugh and how brave you are, how you bite your lip when you're lost deep in thought.

Quite frankly: a stake to his heart couldn't have been more effective.

But he realises another thing: he wants to be real with you, he wants to fall slowly with you - not a vicious thunderstorm but a soft, warm summer rain

And so Astarion begins to yearn in silence as you too can't keep your thoughts from turning around him often

It's painfully obvious to everyone around you how much the two of you are in love with each other; so much so that bets are being made in camp if you're gonna make it before you all reach the Gate

You notice that Astarion keeps sneaking around you like an adoring cat would: always a playful quip on the tip of his sharp tongue that you never take serious because... this Astarion we're talking about. "Oh my heart, aren't you even more blinding than the sun today" "Look who's blessing us with their grace and insight." "A copper for the thoughts in your pretty little head, darling."

Astarion doesn't know how to live the teasing out of his tone, maybe out of fear you might actually start taking him seriously; but if you would peel back the generous layer of faked sarcasm you'd find he's actually being serious

This man is downright smitten by you and you don't realise it as he achingly yearns for you - so much the others can barely take it

Sometimes you find little gifts on your pillow when you wake up: a sweet treat, snuck away from the others, a single blossom, a mysterious line of poetry - you are at a loss at where this comes from or if someone is playing with you

Meanwhile Astarion swallows his pride to regularly go to Wyll and ask his advice who... does help him but not without a haughty grin whenever he sees the lovesick vampire stroll over in his seemingly hopeless endeavour

Meanwhile you keep doing your utmost best to be at Astarion's side because you truly only want to help him and be happy and safe

Again: have mercy with the poor tortured soul, sometimes Astarion almost feels like he could combust on the spot if you give him one of your adorable lopsided smiles

When Moonrise and unpleasant people happen something in Astarion breaks, it all bursts out of him at once, overpowering even his terrible fear of rejection

The hug and tender first kiss you share that night tears both if your walls down.

You have not defeated the big bad enemy but something in your heart lightens knowing you have someone who will travel the road to whatever end with you

From there on out the two of you become even more unbearable in your pining for each other - meanwhile not trivial amounts of gold are passed between the other companions with quite some grumbling - but be assured: all of your friends are rooting for the two of you.

There we go, I love idiots in love with each other, hope you enjoyed!

[inoreuct]

i’m thinking about zosan.

thinking about sanji who says you’re the dumbest fucking man i’ve ever met but also god, i’m so in love with you it hurts and you call and i answer, because you’d do the same. i would move mountains to get to you if you needed me.

thinking about zoro who says you’re a priss and an ass and absolutely insufferable but also i’d fucking kill for you. i don’t know what i’d do if you ever got hurt because that would mean i failed to protect you and also i’ll be there. no matter what, i will be there. say my name and i’ll cross oceans for you.

zosan who bicker and fight and and snip at each other’s heels like they’re getting paid for it, but as soon as one of them actually gets hurt it’s over.

zoro takes a bullet to the side and sanji’s there, furious and incandescent in his rage, covering for him, fighting for the both of them because he can. he’s strong enough for zoro to be weak, just for a moment.

sanji gets a slash to the thigh and zoro’s tearing across the battlefield with a vengeance, desperately cutting down anything that gets in his way because they’re insignificant, they don’t matter, not now, not ever, not when sanji’s compromised.

and their love isn’t all just blind rage in the name of protectiveness, either; it’s the way sanji stocks up on zoro’s favourite liquor and yet still locks the cabinet to give zoro the satisfaction of stealing it and not getting caught. it’s the way zoro appears in the galley after dinner, gently taking the clean plates from sanji’s hands with a dishcloth, drying as sanji washes.

it’s the way their things keep shifting around until there are more of sanji’s clothes in zoro’s room than zoro’s, until zoro’s sword cleaning kit becomes a permanent fixture on sanji’s nightstand. they still decide to not share quarters; they’d really drive each other mad if they did. they’re the kind of people who need their own space.

but on the nights when the quiet gets a little too quiet and the silence gets a little too loud, they know where to go. they show up at each other’s doors in the middle of the night to crawl back into sleep-warm sheets and familiar arms; zoro runs hot and sanji runs cold, and it never gets too much of either.

the nightmares are vicious, with the lives they lead. the ghosts of their pasts are still very much alive when they close their eyes. but when it gets too much, there is always, always a door open. a designated side of the bed. soft reassurances mumbled half-asleep but no less concerned, no less tender, lips pressed to mussed hair, a second heartbeat, an anchor, a safe port to dock in the night.

and even when they don’t need the company they seek each other out anyway, simply because they can and they want to; late nights in the flickering light of the electric lamps, laughter hushed so that they don’t wake the others, curled together so closely they can’t tell which limbs belong to whom. it’s easy— warm and content and strong like the rhythm of the sea, and they don’t need to say anything to hear what they already know. i know you. you know me. i care for you. you care for me. i choose you and you choose me and i need you, i never learned how to love but by god will i try, because i’m learning from how you love me.

their love is a constant. it flows like the waves they sail, but it will never ebb— and it says we may fight and we may argue but i don’t care, i don’t care, i will be there. call for me. please. do not doubt me. do not doubt us. we may drift but you are the home i return to. i will come home, always. always, for you. to you.

[wardenparker]

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.”

______

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[tiredfox64]

Part three of Go for the Kill? But its based ok the ending where reason is with all three of the brothers? She soon gets knocked up and the threee fight over whose it is? >:3

The Soil was Tilled Enough

Prior notes: I knew somebody would ask for this. Had a That’s so Raven moment when I was writing that last part.

Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: You’re gonna have a stroke with my reasoning.

You are faced with a light pink stick in your hands. You were growing tired and sick just days before which worried the brothers a lot. The last thing they want is for their vicious woman to grow horribly ill. Oh but this is no illness. This is the miracle of life.

Yeah this is a strange situation. Truly a spectacle that has some people, or more like someone, disappointed. Liu Kang ain’t too happy that his paid assassin would be out of commission for at least a year. What he also doesn’t like is hearing that the brothers are fighting over who is the father. The yelling is really getting annoying.

“It can’t possibly be your child! I slept with her first!” Bi-Han yelled directly in Tomas’ face.

“We all slept with her first! You are just jealous that the baby is possibly mine!” Tomas yelled right back.

The only one staying calm was Kuai Liang. He stayed right next to you, rubbing your belly as you contemplated the same thing. Who is the father?

Alright, so you put too much faith into Plan B. Guess it wasn’t made to handle loads upon loads of baby-making liquid from men who probably never allowed themselves to feel relief in quite a while. Plus the fact that they love you a lot made the chances of you getting pregnant much higher. I think they were aiming for that goal but I’m not a mind reader.

“What are we gonna do? Are we ready enough to handle having a baby and raising it?” You questioned, concerned about way too many things.

“Of course can handle it. The baby will be in safe hands. Even if the baby is not mine I promise to take care of them as if they were my own.” Kuai Liang made that promise to you.

Kuai Liang really loves you and just wants the best for you. He doesn’t want you to worry too much especially now that’s you are pregnant. His commitment to you made you feel a little better, knowing he won’t be mad about whose baby it is. The other two…yeah that’s gonna take some time.

At this point Bi-Han had Tomas in a headlock which made Tomas start punching Bi-Han’s arms in defense. Kuai Liang ran in to split the two apart.

“Enough of this! This fighting won’t solve anything.” He yelled at them both.

“I do not understand why you are not threatened by the fact that Tomas might have impregnated her. What good will that baby do coming from a man like him?” Bi-Han was being harsh again which made Tomas punch him.

“It does not matter. She is pregnant and she wants to keep it. We must support her no matter what.”

Kuai Liang was right and all the brothers had to agree with his statement. Though Bi-Han was still being as stubborn as ever. If he just keeps the mindset that it’s his baby in there he will be fine.

“Well, do you know how far along you are?” Tomas asked.

“Considering the last time we did it was a couple of weeks ago and I’m getting sick, it might be four to six weeks.”

Oof, if it’s six it can only get worse when it comes to the symptoms. Get ready to start taking bathroom breaks and getting sick from smells.

“It will still be a few weeks before we can get a paternity test done.” You added on.

“We should do that. Settle this debate early on whose child this is.” Bi-Han was on board with doing a paternity test even though he didn’t know you can test that while still pregnant. It’s that old mindset don’t worry.

“I want to the know the gender first. I wanna see if we are having a baby boy or a baby girl.” Tomas gushed at the idea.

“No you don’t, Tomas! We will not wait to find out the gender first.”

“Yes we will, brother. It will teach you to have some patience. It will also test if you still love her enough to take care of her while she is going through this.”

Kuai Liang was shutting Bi-Han down at every opportunity. How dare his little brother accuse him of not loving you. Fine, he’ll wait. They’ll all wait. And as that goes on they will start preparing things for you like a nursery. They gonna spoil the hell out of you.

A woman who is pregnant is a strong woman indeed. They will make sure to take good care of you. They will do their parts as the possible fathers.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Finally! Week thirteen! You can expect your results to be one hundred percent accurate when it comes to the gender. Now here’s the interesting part—

“WHAT!” You, Tomas, Bi-Han, and Kuai Liang all yelled at the doctor in shock.

…I didn’t get to finish. Let me speak up. Damn…

As I was saying the interesting part was that as time went on you noticed your belly was getting quite big. It was a little too early but you didn’t think it was anything much. This was your first time being pregnant so you thought it was normal.

Not necessarily.

“T-twins? We are having twins? And they are all ours?” Tomas was questioning the doctor on how accurate it was.

The ultrasounds did show two little babies. Two little nuggets growing inside you. And they are both boys, congratudolences!

“It’s called Heteropaternal superfecundation. It’s incredibly rare but it can happen. Especially to someone with three partners.” That doctor was throwing shade at you. She was just jealous.

“So one of those boys is definitely mine,” Tomas was all smiles, “But what about the other one?”

Yeah, what about the other one? Still got the other two. They are blood related so this might be harder.

If it’s Kuai Liang’s this might not end well for him since Bi-Han was staring him down with a death glare. Luckily the doctor had something to say about that.

“That’s the thing, we can’t tell. Because they are related there is some difficulties. So as far as any of you know, they are both the father of that other little boy.”

Kuai Liang is content with that. He is just happy to start a family and have a child with you. Bi-Han…ah he gives up. There is no point in being upset about this. There is nothing anyone can do. He’ll be happy to have a son of his own that he can train and possibly be the next grandmaster to the Lin Kuei.

All the brothers are happy to be fathers to a wonderful set of twins, dizygotic twins to be exact. Tomas is already imagining having the twins play together and teaching them to take care of one another. Kuai Liang is imagining caring for them both and teaching them to be good brother. Bi-Han already preparing in his mind a plan to train his son. That’s his responsibility.

The tension between the brothers dissipated. There was no reason to fight and stress you out even more. Looks like they better get more things ready for the babies. The nursery has to be big enough to accommodate two of them.

You have a good support system going on here. I hope you are happy with your multiple lovers and your set of twins.

…

Oh don’t tell me, you want to know who the father actually is. Alright so the clinic didn’t actually have the advanced technology to figure out who the father was when it came to Kuai Liang and Bi-Han. They were only certain on Tomas.

The true father is…I don’t know. What? Did you think I knew all? No! Even I don’t know. And do you even wanna know? Just let be happy that they are happy. Now get some rest, mama. You have a long journey ahead of you and it’s called motherhood.

After notes: Why do I keep doing twins? I’m scaring myself. Here’s a fact about me I have a high chance of having twins if I were to get pregnant. Yeah, I know, crazy. Please tell me I haven’t manifested this for myself my period still hasn’t come oh gosh 😭. I would have done triplets for this fic but nature doesn’t work like that. Well since I’m done I get to eat. Adiós! (Pls make my period show up y’all)

[rebelliousstories]

Fallout

Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard

Peachy

Lucy gets a front row seat to the strange happenings in the Wasteland.

Pretty as a Peach

There’s something odd about this girl that had started traveling with the duo. But it does give Lucy a peak behind the curtain on the Wasteland’s most notorious partners in crime.

Not On My Watch

(Request) There is something that can flip a switch in even the most trusting of men; jealousy. Now what switch that is all depends on the man.

Faces of Old, Faces of New

Holing up in some abandoned movie theater, Cooper is shocked to find one of his old films still in the projector.

My Father’s Daughter

(Request) When his buddy calls, Cooper has no clue the whirlwind he is in for.

Vaultie

(Request) If Cooper Howard had a nickel for every time he came across an escaped vault dweller looking to find her father and to change the world…

Not Like The Movies

(Request)How Cooper got landed with someone of her sunny disposition, he will never now. And it does not help that she knows his films.

Toxic as Rads

(Request)They had not been alright for a long time. They would breakup, and then make up. A vicious cycle with no foreseeable end.

Bounty

(Request)When a bounty comes in, Cooper is intent on cashing in. The caps they were offering were worth it. How in the hell does she stay ahead of him?

Ex Lover’s Lover

Cooper Howard gets introduced to a new up and coming actress after his divorce is finalized. What happens when Barb finds out that Janey has been spending time with the two of them?

My Baby Shot Me Down

After a stint on set, Cooper has to call into question whether or not being a relationship is beneficial for her.

Rock A Bye Baby

(Request) Two hundred years seems like a long time, but there is somethings that never change; no matter how much time had passed.

Old Wounds

She was supposed to be dead. He held her while she died in his arms. How is she here?

Out and About

(Request)When a kid suddenly pops up in the Wasteland, you treat that child like a bear cub; don’t even look at it until you’ve confirmed it’s alone.

Safe and Sound

(Request)This child was still so small, defenseless, and vulnerable. Although Cooper keeps trying to help her out on basic skills to survive the Wastelands.

Over and Under

A ghoul, a child, a vault-dweller, and a dog meet up, by chance, in the Wasteland…

Wear My Ring Around Your Neck

(Request)Wedding rings can be common and look like any other ring. Some are really extravagant and can be easily spotted out in a crowd. The same could be said for people; even years and years later.

Ain’t That A Pretty Sight

This is the story of how Cooper fell in love with his wife again, Janey gets excited, and Barb makes this about her.

Series:

Kiss Me You Animal

The Ghoul and The Freak meet by chance, and what follows is a whirlwind of a time together.

Norm MacLean

Speak Now

(Request)On what is supposed to be the happiest day of her life, she can not help but feel Norm is hiding something.

What We Have Seen

(Request)When the plan to repopulate Vault 32 is set into motion, two people have to find a way to work around the set backs.

What Did You Say?

(Request)The whole reason they got married was with the goal of repopulation. That is why anyone in the Vaults gets married. Being married to Norm is a challenge all on its own.

Take My Breath Away

(Request) Finding out they were expecting was one thing. Actually being there through the pregnancy is another.

Maximus

First

(Request)When you finally get over one hurdle, there is another waiting for you.

Awkward Glances

(Request) He was an aspirant. She was a medic. Could I make it anymore obvious?

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Hoodie | Cooper Adams/Abbott x F!Reader

Gif Credit to @billy-crudup

Synopsis: I can't keep your love / I can't keep your kiss / Gave you everything and all I got was this

Warnings: She’s angsty babe, Mentions of Murder, The Butcher Mentions, Mentions of Suicide, Cheating/Infidelity, SWAT, Guns, Reader 100% is down bad for Cooper even with what he did, It’s giving Stockholm Syndrome but the reader isn’t captured by him

Rating: PG

Word Count: 4.6K

Author’s Note: You know, you can thank my manic episode for this. Also I know the song has a totally different meaning but, my brain took over and who am I to stop her?

If you would like to be tagged, please fill this out

You'd probably think I was psychotic (if you knew) / What I still got in my closet (sad but true) / I slip it on over my shoulders / Something I'll never get over / It makes me feel a little bit closer to you

Loss; the fact or process of losing something or someone. No one knows how to properly process loss – though there are no guidelines on the correct way. It comes in various shapes and sizes – not always as transparent as it is expected to be. That’s what makes the human experience so different across vast networks, everyone processes emotions in ways not one human can comprehend. It’s the equivalent to time, there are so many seconds whirling by, impossible it is to grasp how many different processors truly run for one emotion. Some cry, some wither away to nothing, some lash out, some lose their sobriety. A slim majority does not react, because to them – why would anything good stick around? Why do they deserve it? Abandonment is a fickle bitch, and something you got too used to knowing.

Learning that people weren’t a permanent staple point in life was the worst thing for you, because then you started to expect everyone to leave, at one time or another. Maybe that was the countless times it has happened to you talking but, it’s a feeling that never leaves the back of your mind. It sits there, claws at parts of your brain you’re not supposed to use, sinking deeper and deeper into every soft part of flesh until it blackens. The rot taking over, making you feel helpless until pulling away is the only option. It’s a vicious cycle that you can never seem to break, no matter how hard you try. Which sucks, expecting the worst when you more than deserve the best. And the best came in the form of an amazing, well educated, humble man.

I can't keep your love / I can't keep your kiss / Gave you everything and all I got was this

You never anticipated falling in love with Cooper Adams, or Abbott as he is now known. But sometimes you cannot anticipate destiny, but only let her play out. All it took for you was a kitten stuck in the stone foundation of your home, coming to find out four different litters were calling it home. Cooper was the one to find them, rescue all fifteen of them, and even adopt one for the station. He stayed with you as he helped to clear out the deceased bodies, as you cried holding their little forms for feeding, and as you nursed them back to full health. He was never without you, only living two houses over. Never would he lie about where he was, his wife knew all too well – but refused to get in the way of Logan and Riley seeing the kittens. She suspected, but never could find reason.

All it took for you to realize Cooper was your person, was when you were ready to leave for work and found him under your car, jacked up and tire freshly replaced. You didn’t even realize you had a flat, Cooper saw it before he was about to leave for work. He knew that your car was your lifeline, working over forty minutes away. He wouldn’t let you suffer like that, out in the cold and all, freezing your ass off with cold fingers. No, he tossed on a hoodie and cap, put himself to work and was rewarded with the promise of dinner. He held you to that, to the kitchen table, to the kitchen island, to the couch, the stairs, and lastly the bedroom – all in one night. You both knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t lie to himself; What he and Rachel had was over the second Logan turned four. They were coexisting in the same house, playing their parts to a tee without any hesitation. They kept to themselves, saying goodbyes and I love yous in front of the kids – but they knew it was done. It was you who made Cooper feel alive again – made him feel loved. He had lost that so long ago he wondered if it was real for him anymore. You’d do anything for him; Lie, hide, and even believe.

It was obvious from your fourth month into this affair that Cooper was The Butcher – an accidental slip up of coming back to you smelling of cleaning product. It was only obvious from the slight chemical irritation on his forearms, the small hives a clear reaction. It wasn’t a firehouse cleaning product but more of a hospital type – meaning that he got his hands on heavy duty stuff, which he could’ve only gotten without being suspicious through your account. Working in the medical field was a blessing but, in that moment you thought for a second it was a curse. You could see the glimmer he had for you brighten with the inclusion of tears welling, heartbroken you’d have to be his next victim. But that all changed once you held Cooper’s face in your hands, rubbing back and forth on his cheeks as you smile proudly; “I accept you, my love. We can manage, I won’t tell a soul.” If he had been honest, Cooper didn’t trust you at first. But when days turned into weeks, and those turned into months with no one coming after him, he knew he hit the jackpot.

I'm still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts / Still rocking your

Tonight, Cooper was supposed to come home to you after taking Riley to see Lady Raven, something she worked hard for over the course of six months to go. Cooper was so proud of her and the great report card she had gotten, you were proud of her as well. Lady Raven was her idol, someone she found solace in when her preteen angst was acting up. Cooper wanted to do something special for her; A night she would never forget for the rest of her life. You remember Cooper saying he visited the box office at the arena right before they closed, buying the last floor seats – the closest Riley could get to Lady Raven. It was everything he could’ve hoped for and more – though he wished he remembered to remove the receipt from his wallet, hiding it in case Riley found out. You knew he wouldn’t come over automatically, he still needed to keep the façade up, act like he was still a family man even though all he wanted to do once the kids fell asleep, was be with you.

With the concert starting early during the day, you knew Cooper wouldn’t come back to you until later tonight, around ten or eleven depending. But you missed him; The warmth of his body as he hugged you from behind, the weight of his arms against your chest, the soft feel of his stubble scraping along your cheek as he nuzzled your neck. You both were in a completely different world when you were together, at the door was his first life – with you was his second. Cooper was always adamant on the two lives not touching, which you could understand. But sometimes you wished they did, wished you could be involved in his first life without the repercussions, it was a fucked way of thinking but, nothing with Cooper made you feel rational. It made you want to be the only one – though that could never happen. At the end of the day he was coming home to you, not Rachel, and that would have to do.

The brisk October air flowed through the open living room window so quickly you didn’t hesitate to wrap Cooper’s hoodie around your torso, taking in the musky smell of his cologne and the firehouse. Cooper loved seeing you in his clothing, how happy it made you, how the gleam in your eye shone brighter with every second you wore it. When the first feel cold breeze of autumn rolled through your house a few weeks ago, Cooper quickly discarded the hoodie he had recently gotten from the firehouse, marking the eighteenth-year anniversary that he started. No effort was wasted when he came up behind you, sliding it up your arms and zipping it up neatly. For a few seconds he patted the shoulders down over your form, seeing how it hugged you beautifully. In that moment you saw it in his eyes; Love, he was in too deep too. From that day forward, you never stopped wearing it when he wasn’t home, needing to feel closer to him. To be one with him.

I used to put my hand in your pockets (holding on) / The smell of your cologne is still on it (but you're still gone) / I slip it on over my shoulders / Someone I'll never get over / It makes me feel a little bit closer to you

Grabbing at the shoulder of the hoodie, you brought it to your nose for a deep inhale – smiling softly as you smelled Cooper’s cologne, fresh from the other day. Bergamot and pine invaded your nose, causing your eyes to roll back. There was something so intoxicating about his scent, it drove you silently mad in the best way possible – you didn’t want to let that go for anything in the world. It was your way of feeling like he was with you, when he couldn’t be. Your way of grounding yourself in the moment, planning on what you two would do when he came over. Deep into the fantasy you were creating in the moment, you didn’t hear the racing sound of sirens coming down the street – see the bright flashes of red and blue lights flowing through your home, or hear the screaming until it was too late. “Logan, don’t forget to turn in your science project!”

Your ears perked up at the sound of Cooper’s voice, growing giddy at the fact you were going to see him so soon. Opening your eyes you were met with the flashes of police lights coming from the open curtains, your stomach dropping as you heard the garage door close a few houses away. Cooper. Running from the living room to the front door, you slid on your boots quicker than you could have ever guessed, slamming the door open against the wall. With Cooper’s hoodie still wrapped around your body, you walked quickly down the sidewalk where there was a small crowd gathering, seeing a limo, Rachel, Logan, Riley, and even Lady Raven standing outside of the Adams residence, SWAT officers with their guns drawn as they secured the perimeter of the house. You didn’t know what to believe or ask what was going on. But as soon as Riley and Logan ran past you to another woman’s car, you got your answer.

Rachel turned around in slow motion to see Logan and Riley off, in the midst of it all catching your eye in the crowd. Tears were welling in the corners for you, as hers were bloodshot from crying. Her arms wrapped around herself as she let her eyes roam over your torso, seeing the firehouse symbol with the big 18 in yellow font. Her slack face drew up in confusion, then to realization. Your heart was in your throat as you slowly backed away, trying to get a clear angle in the house to see what Cooper was up to. It was only then that everything caught up in your mind. They found out. They all found out Cooper is The Butcher. Your hands grew clammy, starting to shake at what this all meant. If I am ever found out sweetheart, the only way out of it is to kill myself.

I can't keep your love / I can't keep your kiss / Gave you everything and all I got was this / I'm still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts

A sob trickled out of your mouth without you realizing, tears falling heavily as you spun around to face your house. No one was giving you any attention as you cried, all probably thinking someone had died. But to you, he was close to it. With shaky fingers you managed to grab your phone out of the hoodie pocket, unlocking it quickly with your passcode. The first number up in your latest calls was Cooper from earlier today; How excited he was to see Riley so happy, how he was going to make her year with this, how did things go so wrong? Clicking on his name, you brought the phone up to your ear, hearing the three rings before it went to voicemail. “Fuck,” you whimpered, sniffling back a sob you could feel at its crest. Swallowing as you clicked his name again, and again, and again, and again, all until your phone screen went black. “Fuck!” You yelled out as you started to make your way back towards your home, but not before someone caught your arm, spinning you around in place.

You could feel how warm your face was from crying, how the salty tears dried against your cheek uncomfortably. You were shivering but not from the cold, from fear of losing Cooper. Blinking the unshed tears from your eyes, you let your pupils focus on who spun you around, being met with the dull eyes of Rachel Adams, her face stoic, yet scared. “How long?” She whispered, afraid to speak up louder. There was only one right answer, yet you couldn’t muster it out of you. Your mouth fell open to respond but, nothing came out. “Please,” Rachel sighed, her lip in a small pout for a moment as she tried to regulate her emotions. A sad smile came across your lips as you reached forth with your empty hand, holding her hand softly. “I think you know, Rachel.” It was better than giving an exact timeline, and enough to where nosy neighbors didn’t have to know either. Rachel let out the breath she was holding, a fresh wave of tears coating her eyes as she tightened her grasp on your hand. It wasn’t out of malice or anger, but closure. Giving you a smile that matched your own, Rachel rubbed your hand in both of hers, nodding before she walked off to the house.

Still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts / Still rocking your

It was time for you to do the same; Needing to charge your phone in case Cooper called. You were hoping he didn’t do anything stupid; you were hoping he was okay. “There’s a tunnel to the neighbors yard, he’s not here!” That was the last you heard before stepping back inside.

-----

Nightfall was upon you, the darkened sky matching your mood as you laid on the couch, phone on the coffee table as the news silently drones on in the background. Your eyes were fixated on the TV, fresh tears you had not been aware of were falling, covering the pillow under your head. It had been over two hours since Cooper was found out to be The Butcher. Every new channel was running the story, posting the clips from the venue of Cooper with Riley and Lady Raven. Reporters were outside of the Adams residence, covering every new detail that came up. You were sure that was highly illegal since it was active scene by the FBI, but you couldn’t find yourself to care. Not when your whole life had just been turned upside down. Your boyfriend found out to be a murderer, his wife knowing he was having an affair, everything was a mess.

Any little sound you heard coming from your window you jumped at, hoping it was Cooper. But alas, it was just another reporter staking themselves out on your lawn, wanting a hit of the newest story from this scene. You needed to see the house, everything. You needed to know if this was all real or a bad dream. Laying around on the couch was only going to get you so far – this would give you closure if he was captured, or if something else had happened. Standing up from your position on the couch, you felt yourself getting lightheaded for a moment, shaking off the imbalance for a moment before moving. As you stretched upwards to cracked everything in you, a visceral scream could be heard around the neighborhood – one full of rage and fear, one that made your hairs stand on end. You didn’t think before your feet took off, tripping over your coffee table as you scrambled out of the back door, not caring that it was left wide open. You were taking off quickly down a few houses to where a bigger crowd was starting to form, everyone in their bathrobes and jackets, trying to get in on a piece of the action.

From your angle at Cooper’s house, you couldn’t see what was happening inside but could see multiple SWAT officers going in and out. One of them had long chained handcuffs in their hand, the ones that were attached to the waist and ankles of the prisoner. The clanking of the chains was muted now by the chatter over the radios, quiet enough so not everyone could hear but, if you focused hard enough you could make it out. “The Butcher has been captured. He’s being cuffed now.” In a way you were happy to hear Cooper was just captured, and not dead. You knew how good he was on his word of suicide, not thinking twice about it but, you didn’t want to live without him. The whole life you two wanted to build together, it may not come true now but – that was okay. There was nothing stopping you from visiting him in prison, having conjugal visits – you’d do anything for him.

If you want it back / If you want it back / I'm here waiting / Come take it back / Come take it back / If you want it back / If you want it back / I'm here waiting / Come take it back / Come take it back

The large presence of officers coming out of the house caused you to focus back on the front door, pushing your way to the front of the crowd to see what was going on. Wearing a blue and red flannel, was your Cooper. Not the clean-cut Cooper the forehouse saw, that his family saw – the one always put together and smiling. No, this was your Cooper; Disheveled hair, manic look in his eyes, a smirk that could light the whole world on fire. He was in his true form, not the fake mask he put on for his family. Seeing that gleam of rage in his eyes made you smile softly, knowing exactly what he was capable of. As Cooper walked out of his home and down the front steps, he stopped halfway down the path, turning to face where you were standing. The SWAT officers had AK’s trained on him, threatening to shoot if he tried anything, but you knew they wouldn’t.

Cooper’s gaze fell to Riley’s bike on the lawn, tipped over from all the commotion. Needing to right this wrong, Cooper knelt to pick it back up, running his thick, calloused fingers over the tires, knowing he may never see Riley grow up. It killed him to think about it; He wanted to take this moment in for as long as he could. You saw the trepidation in his eyes as he stared at the bike, running his fingers over the spokes. It’s when his gaze shifted up to you, that you saw the darkness layered – the glimmer of sinister intentions, one that made your lower stomach ignite. “I love you,” Cooper silently said, mouthing to you as your eyes caught his. All you could do was smile, biting your lower lip as the tears sprang free again; Your arms wrapping around your shoulders as you hugged his hoodie tighter to your body. “I love you so fucking much, Cooper,” you whispered back, causing his own eyes to glisten with tears.

I'm still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts

Behind you a car pulled up quickly to the scene. Quickly jetting out of the van was a curly, blonde-haired girl – who you knew was Riley. “Daddy!” She sobbed out, running out of the woman’s arms into straight into Cooper’s, his hands chained in front of him. Riley didn’t waste a second to hug Cooper tightly, pressing her tear-stained face into his chest. It was a bittersweet moment; From what Cooper always told you, Riley was his little girl, always valuing his opinion on topics and learning the ways of the world from him. He was wrapped around her finger, and silently it was killing him that this may be the last time he was ever going to see her. Cooper leaned his chin against Riley’s head, kissing the top softly, savoring the moment before it was ripped away. “Riley, come here sweetie,” Rachel called out, causing Riley to pull away as she ran. The SWAT officers hands tightened against Cooper’s arm, he spun around to stare at his family one more time before being loaded into the paddy wagon.

Before that door shut, Cooper held your gaze with a primal glare, causing your heart to quicken. A smirk lined his lips as the door shut, only able to see him through the small window of the wagon. You didn’t feel upset or scared that Cooper was going away, because you knew it was bullshit. That look told you everything you needed to know, and it made you excited. Throwing the hood of Cooper’s jacket over your head, you made your way back to your home, locking the back and front door – closing and locking the windows, heading straight for bed.

I'm still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts

-----

Time ticked away as the lights started to die out; The warmth of your salt lamp omitting off cozy energy. Snuggled beneath the comforter, you watched as the last of the police officers and journalists left. The neighborhood had enough craziness for one day, to hear utter silence put you at peace. Everything felt good again; No animosity lingered in the air. But things still felt off, not having Cooper by your side. Watching him get taken away by the police made you sad – but seeing how he said he loved you, made everything so much better. You would wait for him, no matter how long it was going to be. If you had to wait eternity for him, you’d wait two. Cooper was everything to you, and you knew you’d never find love like him again. Even with abandonment heavy on your mind, this time felt different. It wasn’t a slow pullback like everyone else does. No, this was so much less. The look in Cooper’s eyes was a guarantee that he would be with you soon enough, and you’d wait forever to have that.

You felt yourself drifting off to sleep at the thoughts of him, how the previous night he held you close to his chest, playing with your hair as he hummed softly to you. It put you at great ease, feeling so domestic for the first time. The way his right hand boxed you into him, laying right against your stomach. His left was tucked under his head, his chin perched on your shoulder. It was almost as if you could feel the warmth of him now, holding you tightly, peppering kisses along your hairline. His hand snaking its way under your shirt to touch you, rubbing little hearts into your flesh as you sink deeper into him. His broad chest your safe haven, his lips your solace in this dark world, as they move their way down your cheek, to your bare shoulder. “You’re never getting rid of me that easily, princess.” Cooper whispered into your ear, causing your eyes to fling open.

Cooper could feel you tense at the realization he was here, with you, instead of locked up. The excitement vibrating off of you as he helped you turn around. Even with the low light of the lamp next to your bed, you could make out every single feature of Cooper’s face. The lines around his eyes as he smiled at you, the creases of his mouth as his grin grows wider, the softness in his irises as they track a path over your facial features. “I will never leave you, sweet girl. I am with you forever.” Cooper’s voice cracked with emotion as his tears started to fall, the sob slipping from your lips evident enough. Perching against Cooper, you let your lips collide with his in a heated manner, feeling the ever-growing love between the two of you blossomed. The world was gone, silent compared to the beating of two hearts. The autumn light turning into tendrils of golds, browns, and silver cascading through the air, glittering with every touch Cooper laid upon your body. He was your home, he is your safety. He is your world, and nothing could take him from you. “I’m here to stay.” You knew he meant it too. Cooper Adams was a thing of the past, a monster that the media wanted to portray. Cooper Abbott on the other hand was a family man, who was desperately in love with his girl. Philadelphia is where you two made your home, but your true adventure starts with the move to Minnesota. Your future now getting started.

Still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts / Still rocking your hoodie

Tagging Taglist: @rubyfruitjungle @cherryinterlude @lilly3434 @amethystblackkchaos @rosaleelovesdilfs @babygorewhore @dirtylittlefairytales @redpillbluepill @strangererotica @minedofmoria @hibiskooks @fore45fore @lustskitty69

Cooper Adams: @lunaluvsu @rplver @kissofdawn666 @rottenangel

[five-and-dimes]

Had a very angsty thought about Dream that I thought you in particular would enjoy, so here it is:

Maybe this would be a human au, but I think it could work in universe as well.

Dream, because of the fact that he's not great with people, tends to be rather prideful, and is well aware of his own strengths, has been accused of being arrogant his whole life. Mainly by his siblings (Desire, I'm looking at you).

At some point, Dream being desperately tired of being told bad things about him, and desperate to have people around him who love him, decides that he must be the problem and so resolves that he will change himself.

How does he go about this? Well naturally he assumes that because he's been accused of arrogance, he can't trust his own judgement of himself. So whatever he thinks about himself, he believes that the reality of who he is must be worse. Which leads to a vicious cycle of self hatred.

Hob, who had become friends with Dream at some point, and had long since fallen for his friend, somehow finds out about this thought process of Dream's and is absolutely devastated. Which of course leads to Hob doing his absolute best to convince Dream he's not the worst person alive. Dream is very stubborn though, it takes a lot of work, but eventually Hob manages to help Dream see how unfair he is to himself and just how wrong his thought process is

Anyway, but I hope you enjoy this concept I thought of, it seemed like the exact sort of angst and hurt/comfort you enjoy, so I had to share

Bro you know me so Goddamn well.

(Vibing human au just cause I’ve been in human au mode for the fic I’m working on lol)

Cause like. Here’s the thing. Pride in and of itself is not a bad thing. There’s plenty of things Dream has every right to be proud of! But he grows up with parents constantly neglecting him and calling him selfish when he wants their attention/love/support, and siblings who call him arrogant when he speaks highly of himself. His siblings try to tear him down and he fights back by overcompensating, doubling down on his pride until it does in fact tip into arrogance, but he’s just so desperate not to let them make him feel worthless (even if it doesn’t really work). And when Desire or Despair are cruel to him and he fights back the only way he knows how, HE’S the one his older siblings scold and are disappointed in. 

And time passes, and he’s not naturally good with social interactions, and then on top of that you have the trauma of his family life exacerbating the struggle. He starts having romantic relationships that start strong and then nosedive, and suddenly he’s being criticized and beaten down from all sides, no one willing to give him the benefit of the doubt or any compassion when he messes up. So he starts to figure… well, surely if EVERYONE says all these bad things about him they can’t ALL be wrong. Surely he’s the one who’s wrong.

So he enters university with this mindset that he can’t trust his own feelings unless they're negative. He’s not someone who struggles, he’s just a bad person. He’s not talented or successful, he’s just arrogant. 

And that’s who Hob meets. Dream still has a haughty demeanor- a little part of him wants people to see right away what a “bad person” he is so that he can get it over with (plus, deceiving them would just make him a worse person, right?)- but Hob is obsessed with him immediately. Privately, Hob thinks of Dream like a stray cat, hissing and scratching out of fear and distrust, but it takes some time for him to realize just how accurate that assessment is. They become closer, and he starts to notice some things, like how Dream doesn’t tell him about the galleys he gets accepted into, or the stories that gets published, or the tests he aces. When he prods Dream about it, he shrugs it off, saying it doesn’t matter, it’s nothing, he wasn’t going to burden Hob with something so insignificant.

Hob tells Dream he should be proud of himself for his accomplishments and Dream is literally speechless.

No one has ever told Dream he should be proud. His pride was what made him unlovable, right?

Oops, did he say that out loud?

It’s like pulling teeth getting Dream to explain to Hob- How he’s always been wrong before, how he’s never gotten it right, so obviously he can’t trust his own perception of himself. Maybe he was excited, or felt a little spark of joy and pride at his successes, but he knows now that he actually has no reason to be proud of anything ever because he’s just a burden and a bad person. 

Hob is going to cry.

It’s a hard battle getting Dream out of this mindset. Hob kind of just has to go all in, because it’s not like Dream talks openly about his thought process, Hob just happened to notice and drag it out of him. So even if it might seem like Dream is just chilling on the couch watching a show, odds are he’s actually deconstructing every single thing he’s said and done that day and twisting them into proof for why he’s unlovable. But it’s not like it’s a chore for Hob- all he’s really doing is giving Dream the validation and approval that he never got growing up, and showing him a bit of grace when he stumbles. To Hob it's nothing, but to Dream it's everything.

(It’s also very cute to see how red Dream gets when Hob compliments him or shows up to his gallery exhibitions or tapes his A+ essays onto the fridge.)

There’s ups and downs, and there will continue to be ups and downs for a while. But when Hob finally kisses him, Dream thinks to himself… If someone as good as Hob can love him? Then maybe- just maybe- he’s not so bad himself.

[luffyvace]

HIIII hru !!! may i please ask for some feitan fluffs hcs 😩 i love this tiny man with all my soul

IM DOING GOOD!! YES YOU MAY!!! I ACTUALLY HAVE SUCH A DEEP ROOTED LOVE FOR HIM I DONT TALK ABOUT HIM OFTEN ENOUGH💥💥

(omg this reminds me i’m supposed to be doing the whole troupe and chuuya x male reader- i’m so all over the place but the point is another dabble of feitan hcs will be here in the future! 😋)

also ooc/fanon him since this is fluff :)

tw: death…and torture (i use “unalive” instead of d!e/k!ll)

alrighty so you said fluff headcanons and it’s highly likely you’ll get fluffy feitan if you’ve known each other for a long time (since meteor)

i’m going to dabble in reader that is both in and outside of the troupe because i can :)

so for reader that’s in the troupe first of all no pda

hardly any weakness was displayed besides sadness/anger or mourning (and some funny moments)

theres no need for cuddles during business

unless your like uvo and simply don’t care

then it annoys the crap out of him <3

it’s not like he doesn’t want your affection—just not in public

will cuddle you in private tho

y’all usually sit there in silence or read together

he can be a little spoon or big spoon it doesn’t bother him

he tries his best but he’s never let anyone else so close to him before

if you introduce something to him and he likes it he’ll do it back

because why would you do it to him if you wouldn’t want it done to you right?

im gonna assume you have either a apartment which you unalived the owner of or y’all live in meteor still

he’ll let you choose really he doesn’t care where you stay

he’d even unalive a high status person to steal their mansion if that’s what you want

your obviously strong and have some sort of nen if your in the troupe so he doesn’t bother worrying

although if your like kortopi he’ll stay vigilant for you

even though you can use nen to defend yourself as well

btw if your not a pda person the troupe is grateful

aint no body wanna see allat-

he doesn’t know how to cook or clean and since your both from meteor so i hope you learn or already know how

otherwise y’all eat what y’all can when y’all can

whether you steal a five star gourmet meal or just wait for the next opportunity like a vending machine

i don’t advise you ask for a pet by the way

he’ll tortu£ it and i’m not talking about strapping it down or anything

just purely scarring them 😭

if you be firm about him stopping he will

unless it’s a big scary dog or smth

then he’s more likely to take em under his wing and train them to be vicious

will scare people with said animal

for stay at home reader…. (most of these also apply for troupe reader<3)

i say stay at home bc with his portion of money you could buy anything you want

if you tell him what you want u can get it for free cuz he steals it

but

if you want to take a bath together it would take more than a god to convince him

seriously he sees no reason in it

once you do tho

at first he is on one end of the tub and your on the other

as time goes on he’ll let you lean back into his chest as he scrubs your hair

he lets you play in his hair

don’t tell ANYONE

he don’t like vulnerability so if you tell someone he won’t do it for like 2 weeks

you think he’s never gonna do it again until you crawl into his lap while he’s reading on the bed and ask really sweetly

he’s all yours after that

HIS HAIR IS SO FLUFFY!!

and yes he lets you play with it :)

you get to put it into all types of styles!!

especially since it’s a decent length!

not really interested in playing in your hair

he tries but the rubber band always ends up tangled in your hair

if you kiss him goodnight he will start to initiate it as well

thats one thing he will forever reciprocate

loves your humor

no matter the type

but he especially loves when you laugh at his dark jokes

youve seen him smile before 💖

warms your heart knowing no one else gets this side of him

not judgmental of your looks for obvious reasons

yall got bigger problems

dismisses anytime you degrade yourself

he be speaking facts

”the way your hair looks gonna unalive you?”

”your pimples will st^b you while sleeping?”

no? you goofy goober so why does it matter

don’t argue him on this

genuinely doesn’t like the idea of you being hurt

by him or someone else

dont expect anyone who does harm to you to see the tomorrow sun

even if you plead for them don’t waste your breath pleading you need to be saying goodbye

real loyal partner

as loyal to you as he is the troupe

you and the troupe are his forever commitments

no matter what he could never stop loving you

you guys practically never argue

hes not necessarily hotheaded but will say what’s on his mind and if someone disagrees he does it anyway

thing is he compensates with you💗

if he knows your nitpicking he ignores it but if it’s genuinely something you don’t like he won’t fight it

also he cleans up well if you don’t like to see blood/gore in your place after he’s done t•rturing someone

he respects and listens to your opinions and feelings

would love if your a sadistic person as well but he understands if your not

also if your not in the troupe he teaches you nen

only the troupe knows your together and where you stay for your safety

your safety is definitely on his priority list

truly cares about and loves you

enjoy!!!! i’ll prob come back and read my own hcs bc I LOVE HIM

thank you for this request i loved writing every letter of it♡