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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

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The Invisible String Theory

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You didn't expect the man who gave you his coat to be the same one to bust down the door where you and the other women slept - sniper hood scaring everyone within an inch of their life. You didn't expect him to become so important to you, either. (Based on König's in-game backstory).

WORDCOUNT: 9.2k

WARNINGS: Human trafficking, mentions of unwanted touching, trauma, blood, gore, guns, bullets, protective!König, soft!König, nightmares, mentions of bullying, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

'DATE: 25, NOVEMBER, 2021

LOCATION: BERLIN, GERMANY

TIME OF EVENT: 0230

MISSION REPORT: PENDING….'

You don’t remember much from the day that could be called out of the ordinary. Ever since you’d been moved here with the other girls, everything was predictable down to the time the men would come over, to the point where the screams had to be muffled by pillows.

Never in your life did you think you’d be part of the nearly fifty million people stuck in this situation, and neither did you think you’d be the one in one hundred who got out. But before you can think about November twenty-fifth and those pale gray eyes, you have to go back to the beginning. To Al-Qatala.

You hadn’t been with this cell initially—you’d been moved around and bartered off more times than you could count; the initial founder of your predicament was long gone at this point. North and South America, Europe, Africa, Asia, and Oceania…you’d been practically everywhere and on every continent barring the obvious last. In Europe, you couldn’t name the countries, but you knew this for a fact: you’d never been to Germany before.

They had you with five other women in a large SUV in the beginning, this international ring of human traffickers. You had watched from the window, face blank and eyes unblinking, at the men who met near the docks. They had brought you in through Hamburg, first—not only the largest seaport in Germany but the third largest in Europe; you think you read that on a flier at some point. One of those flimsy ones that you find in gas stations with bright lettering to attract the tourists with their interesting facts.

You wished you were only a tourist.

You’d watched the men shake hands, and that was when you knew your fate, as well as that of the five other women, was sealed. You were going to all be here for a long time.

This Al-Qatala cell was ruthless, but you supposed with being around terrorists, ruthlessness was better than being executed.

For days you’d be exploited with the false promises of moments of freedom, breaks, food, and water. For some of the women it was drugs or money, but when your stomach was empty and your eyes blurring from lack of sleep, even addictions seemed to pale for brief hours. But above it all was the threat of death at every corner. These men would kill you.

It was only a matter of time unless you could give them what they wanted.

You yourself had developed a system, and it was probably the only reason you were still alive. Pick one of the handlers, gain his favor, and pray that he treats you specially while you keep up the act of a mindless, weak, woman.

Ivon was the man’s name this time around. Born and raised here in Berlin before the clutches of his fanatical ideations brought him to Al-Qatala. You hated him.

Hated his touch—hated his scent and how he talked; every bit of him was corrupted like a black dog at a crossroads, always leading people down the wrong path. Your only saving grace was that he was stupid. The other girls called you Cat—said you managed to nuzzle up to someone and soon after got them to give you what you wanted. Everything you wanted except freedom, that was.

You didn’t deny that Ivon did give you privileges, but that was the point. About a week into your stay in Berlin, he allowed you to go into public with him. Arm-candy.

A doll.

The townhouse you’d been stuck in had disappeared into a spec behind the rearview mirror, the chilled air from outside making you shiver at the lack of heat and the thin shawl you’d been thrown. No jacket.

The care of your health only extended to how well you were able to work—at the moment you were relatively healthy despite the bulge of bruises and constantly shell-shocked look behind your eyes.

But the trip—the trip. You supposed that was when it had fully started, and you didn’t even realize it before you saw those gray eyes again.

“Come,” Ivon orders, holding tightly to your arm and dragging you along from the corner shop without making a scene. Your hands loosely brush the wrack of clothes, fabric soft under your fingertips as it sways.

Fixing your shawl, you try to burrow your neck into it, gaining what little heat is available to you. It was cold out—you were shivering. People send looks, eyes tight as they shift up and down your form, but no one ever says anything. To be this bold, this cell had to have been at this for a long, long time. The realization didn’t make you feel any better.

That was when you first saw him.

You were standing outside a coffee shop, quivering like a newly hatched butterfly, Ivon making a call only a few feet away with fast motions of his arms. It was hard not to make a run for it right then and there; hard not to take those few seconds of open air and dash away—start screaming and yelling until the authorities came.

It would save yourself, but what about the others? They wouldn’t be so fortunate, you’d be sentencing them to death. None of this was simple—it needed to be thought out. Two games of chess being played at the same time.

The irony of it was that König had been off-duty that day. It had been a shot in the dark.

“Are you alright?” A thick Austrian accent makes you flinch as it appears beside your right ear, grating.

Your eyes snap to the side, moving one foot back as you blink wildly up at the blue-gray orbs that would become a staple. You liked to call it as everyone else did—the invisible string theory. A theory that stated that the universe connected people who were destined to meet one day. Through thick or thin waters, it was inevitable. He was inevitable.

“Yes,” you say quickly, holding your hands tightly around you. The man ahead of you was tall, almost startlingly so, with muscles more bulky than a boulder and his buzz-cut head open to the chilled breeze. He wore a surgical mask over his lower visage, his hoodie under the thick material of a canvas jacket. “Yes,” you say again, hearing Ivon’s voice behind you still on the phone. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Gray eyes furrow slightly, gaze darting over your head.

“Are you…sure, Ma’am?”

“Thank you for your concern,” you fake laugh, eyes pained, backing up farther. That invisible string snaps into place, pulling tight at only those few simple words.

His stature made you slightly nervous—large, intimidating; those hands could do quite the damage if given the chance. Your eyes had hit and bounced off the identity discs at his chest with little thought, too preoccupied to notice the fact that he was in the Service.

König’s eyes had narrowed softly, dark brows minutely moving in.

Ivon hangs up his phone.

“Can I help you?” He asks, coming up and sliding a hand around your waist. The man had stared at him for a long minute, and you had felt Ivon tense slowly at the unblinking eye contact.

This stranger had commented in German a long string of frim words, hands going to his jacket and grabbing at the arms—he slips out of it while still uttering.

Before you can react, the large coat swallows you whole and you snatch at the heat that’s still inside instinctually, now only realizing how much you were shivering. Your body sags into the weight of the fabric, the scent of sweat and coffee.

You don’t even pay attention to the growing tones, shocked. People look over to the two fast words being tossed.

Yet it could only last so long.

Ivon’s hand latches onto the side of your arm, beginning to drag you back and away from this kind stranger like a lap dog while throwing curses behind him. Gray eyes meet yours as old shoes skid and stumble.

König had taken a firm step towards you that day, his body tense and his hands clenched at his side—ready to do anything on a moment's notice should you ask for it. But all you do is stare, jaw loose, and the given coat still on your shoulders. You just couldn’t understand why he would do that.

The stranger gets swallowed by the crowd, and just like that, he’s gone.

That was all it had been; a moment—a few mere seconds in the large plot that was this almost impossible tale. You were glad it had been him, or else the events of the future could have been very different.

Of course, they hadn’t let you keep the jacket, but the memory was enough to warm you for days even as old pains faded and new ones took their place.

But those gray eyes would help you in the future, like a guardian; a protector in your dreams as you watched the snow fall from the sliver of outside light in your room with the others. Your mattress was on the floor like the rest, thin blankets and clouds of cold breath wafting up from sleeping forms.

This was the time it happened, and you’d just woken up to find the curtains shifting as one of the women near it moved in her sleep. Shadows slip past, the light interrupted as it shifts over your tired face with broken fractures.

You were always kept on the ground floor.

'CLEARANCE: APPROVED

TRANSLATING MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’…

STAND BY…

Operation Red Freedom took place on November twenty-fifth, 2021, at approximately 0230 in the neighborhood of [REDACTED], at the residence of [REDACTED], Berlin, Germany. A squad of ten highly trained [REDACTED] personnel covertly entered the residence in two teams of five. Fireteam One advanced from the back entrance while Fireteam Two entered the residence from the balcony at the top floor, accessed via ladder.

Squad Leader [REDACTED], part of Fireteam One, set foot in the residence of [REDACTED] at approximately 0238 and began sweeping the ground floor as Fireteam Two cleared three of twelve known individuals belonging to the terrorist organization, Al-Qatala, on the top floor….'

You shift and shiver, your body trying to warm itself as the world blurs at the sides of your vision. Fingers twitch as your hand goes to wrap your waist, curled into the fetal position, creaking emanates from above you. Blinking softly, you frown and take a quivering breath, head nuzzling the thin mattress.

“Cold,” you say, the following low exhale of air out of your lips only making it all worse as everything seems to drop another degree. The darkness didn’t help either, only that one line of light trying desperately to fill the room like a bucket descending into a dry well.

You’re only clothed in the dirty and tattered remains of a large shirt, your legs feeling like they don’t hold any blood in them as they quiver without your knowledge—shaking the blanket above you. A few of the girls had said it would be okay to share, but everyone was afraid of the lock on the door clicking open and the men coming back in and seeing them. In the end, you could only look after yourself.

A thump makes you startle, drooping eyes snapping back open as you gasp.

Head shifting, you blink rapidly upward to the ceiling, confused as to whether that had been a part of a failing mind or if you’d really just heard a muffled bump upstairs. Brows furrowing, you lightly sit up, hands still around yourself and legs limply outward; spine hunched.

Your fingers had lost feeling, just as your nose had gone numb, but moving helped a little. Your hands dig into your flesh and your ears twitch at every creak in the wood—every pass of silent feet that suddenly becomes all the clearer as the sheen of fatigue slowly leaves your brain.

Walking? Small pains move along your body like needles, poking and prodding, but you ignore them as easily as you do the vile hands that had touched you. Survival had forced you into a constant state of self-preservation—pain couldn’t bother you, because if you stopped, you wouldn’t get back going again.

Your head tilts so you can side-eye the door to the room, sleeping forms all around shifting, singular groaning of tired lungs. But there’s something inside of you that stiffens like a prey animal, and you don’t know why. Inside of your sockets, your eyes hone in, bones stiff and your chest stilling as the grain becomes the most interesting thing to you beyond breathing.

There was someone….out there.

Watching, the sides of your vision shadow over to focus harder, your muscles tight. Your mind goes to the thumps from upstairs, the moving feet that sounded far more careful and deliberate than the ones your jailors took care to walk with.

Inside your ribs, your heart patters a bit faster, adrenal glands sending a certain flight or flight through the few veins you hold that aren’t chilled over.

Something was happening. Something wasn’t right.

Only when you move to shake the shoulder of one of the women sleeping beside you does it happen.

A yell.

A scream.

The girls in the room all startle awake, sounds of concern and shock entering the air that you mirror; faces snapping to the ceiling and the door. The townhouse erupts into gunfire and the sound of slamming wood—a warzone that only is separated from all of you by the thin material of the four walls.

You feel yourself being grabbed and held in fear in the dark, as your open face holds the expression of a rabbit in an open field, looking along the long, hidden grass.

The sounds persist, loud German shouts going up over the house and echoing with heated fever. This continues for minutes, added in with the sound of doors breaking off hinges, bouncing off the ground, and shaking the foundation so hard that you can feel it reverberate. The women go silent. Stone-still.

But the gunfire—so much gunfire. The constant pop of assault weapons and a pound of multiple booted feet.

What was going on? You can't make sense of it, so you only freeze and listen; trying to understand the longer the fight goes on, heart hammering; mouth slack-jawed. And then it’s like it never happened.

Silence.

You share quick looks with the others, all gripping one another and heads angled to the door. The heavy feet start back up again, coming closer. Your mind slashes to the window across the room, but it’s hard to think beyond the sudden body that shakes the door that leads directly to you all—the women scream, some standing up and racing to the glass with the same idea as you.

'…Squad Leader [REDACTED], and both Fireteams successfully eliminated all targets inside of the [REDACTED] residence, leaving the room occupied by known hostages last to prevent casualties and/or the usage of bargaining chips. Squad Leader [REDACTED] made contact with hostages at approximately 0244 after the final sweep of the townhouse had been completed and all personnel accounted for.

Local authorities had been contacted by neighbors due to noise but were dismissed.'

The door busts off its hinges and the room devolves into panicked yells and hurled bits of mattress material. Loud pleas and curses stuck like gums to teeth as they were forced out in fear and bone-crushing terror. You remember pushing back into the wall, many others doing the same, as a beast of a man enters the room with his face covered with a loose fabric hood of some sort.

Large—brutish. Like a demon walking with the color of black printed over his entire body; gear hangs from a combat vest, hands holding an assault rifle as a sidearm is strapped to his bulging thigh. Forearms the side of your head stays near his chest, and in order to not hit his head on the doorframe, the individual has to bend slightly. Over that hood, the lenses and head-gear of a night-vision rig sit heavily before it’s moved back with a firm hand that is nearly double the size of yours.

A monster.

Your entire being is tight with quivering tension, eyes blinking away tears at the smell of blood that rolls in from the hallway. The women at the window duck down, hands to their heads as if expecting a bullet to carve its way between their skulls.

“Cat,” one of the ladies behind you mutters, voice quivering. You shush her on bitten lips and move her farther behind you.

“Don’t speak,” you mutter. “Don’t move.”

You don’t know what you expect, but nothing about this is correct.

The man raises his hands, the rifle slapping his chest as it hangs from a strap. He speaks in German, and the heavy and fast noise of it makes your already addled head spin. No one answers beyond the slide of their own feet over the hardwood floors.

“Ich heiße König,” his head swivels from one to another, “Sprichst du Deutsch? Irgendjemand?”

You stare blankly, panting.

After a moment, and a slow step forward from the stranger, he speaks again, though this time, it’s in English.

“My name is König.” His voice is familiar to you, and you blink in confusion quickly, hidden near the back of the shaking bodies. “I am with the German Military, yes? We have conducted a raid on this residence.”

Military? Raid?

“...I am not here to hurt you.” He nears one of the women, beginning to bend down slowly. She squeaks, balking back—making him tense and halt. It didn't matter what he said, König was the epitome of a man who was intimidating on body alone; the gear wasn’t helping. Neither was the hood.

A soldier appears in the doorway, calling out to him in his native language as you flinch at the noise.

König calls back calmly, trying to keep an air of gentle strength around him.

The second soldier comes inside, dressed similarly despite the lack of fabric over his visage which instantly puts many at ease again. He clears his throat as König steps back, gargantuan hands coming up to rest at his vest collar as his legs shift. He seems a bit put off at the fearful stares from everyone, rolling his shoulders for a moment as he turns his head to look out of the doorway.

Your eyes don’t move from him, though. A nagging feeling in the back of your skull.

“We have to leave this place,” the second soldier tells you all, kneeling and resting a hand over his knee. “We’ll get you medical attention. Food. Water. There’s no need to suffer here any longer, hm? We can see to it that all of you will get the best care that can be provided.” A pause. “We can get you back home.”

That certainly got the attention that was needed.

Meek questions started falling out, then louder ones before pandemonium was roused in that tiny room pushed to the very back of the townhouse. Home. It was a word that had almost lost all meaning but was still that constant shining light in the back of everyone’s mind.

Home.

Did you even have one of those left?

As the rest of your fellows all got to their feet, taking you with them, you had to think over that fact as the soldier guided them gently out of the room to join the others waiting—trying to answer their questions and get them away from the gore before they saw it.

You stayed behind, feet shifting over the floor and your lips thin. As the silence settles in, you hold yourself a bit tighter and glance at the mattress all mashed together and stained—those thin blankets as you shiver.

“Are you alright?” Your head snaps over.

You’d forgotten about König.

He still stands there, still and with his hands at his collar; he clears his throat softly, speaking up from his low utterance. “Please…do not be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you say tinily, your voice cracking in the lie.

You can’t see his eyes—not with the shadow from his hood or his head rig, but you can see the way his skull lightly tilts to the side, trying to see you better in the low light.

“That is good,” he answers, not convinced. “I’m glad. I did not wish to scare anyone.” He moves back and motions with a hand to the door from where they hang. “Please. It is best not to linger, yes?”

“Do I…” you hesitate, shivering. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

König’s face isn’t visible, but you can still sense the feeling of confusion leaking out of him. The man takes a small step closer, and you gaze up at him until his eyes are visible.

Blue-gray.

You stare, mouth parting in shock.

König blinks twice, quickly making a noise in the back of his throat at the sight of your eyes gazing into his—the same woman outside of the coffee shop from days ago.

That little invisible string pulls you closer, small millimeter by small millimeter.

“You?” You both say it at the same time, laced with surprise and shock.

It’s a long moment of gazing into each other, a battered body and another more strong than an ox. All fear of the man dissipates.

“You gave me your jacket,” you whisper, still torn up about it.

König’s hood shifts as he glances back to the door, German speech over the radio strapped to his chest which he takes in and processes in the back of his skull. But he always looks back at you, eyes crinkled with concern and perhaps even a bit of misplaced guilt.

A protective knife sides into his side.

“Come.” The man reaches out a hand, hovering it over your arm. You stare at the gloved limb for a moment before softly moving towards it with your breath caught in your throat, hesitant. König’s fingers delicately slide over the flesh, not closing around it until he feels your muscles loosen. “...Let’s get you warmer, Schatz, yes?”

You blink.

“It’s cold here,” you mutter, letting him guide you along, his gray orbs always keeping you in the side of his vision.

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding. “Very cold. Have you been to Germany during the winter before?”

Your head slightly shakes, bare feet padding along next to the pair of great boots—you lean closer unconsciously to the promise of warmth. König guides you away from the seeping blood on the floor and protects your eyes from the view of the bodies across the room with his own as a guard dog would.

“No.” He notices your leaning and brings you nearer to him, letting you use him as a brace. The man knows the effects of shock, and you wear it as plainly as any other. “I’ve never been here before.”

König hums and his free hand goes up to press into the radio, muttering in his native tongue. He releases the connection and asks as he blinks at you, “Do you require any immediate medical attention?”

Again, you shake your head.

“Where are the others?” You sink further into him, being guided to the front door, open to the soft snowfall and a chilled wind as your shoulder hunch.

“Just outside,” König glances at the bodies across the room—the ones he’d riddled with bullets that still twitch even as the minutes draw longer. Gray eyes going from one to another, the house is heavy with the weight of dead men. Twelve in total and all getting colder just like the temperature outside. König didn’t feel bad about it, and when he’d finally busted open that door to find you and the women, he was satisfied with the blood on his hands. If hell were to be his home, he would walk there with a golden-fanged smile.

But now wasn’t the time for that.

“I will bring you to them,” the soldier speaks, snow blowing in from the entrance. “Slowly, now, Schatz, watch the steps. Allow me to help.”

You stop at the doorway, bringing a hand to your mouth to cover a haggard cough as König makes his way down the first concrete step ahead of you—large armored vehicles had pulled up from a ways away. The women huddle around one another, the rest of the soldiers sticking by them and opening the doors to the vehicles as the night gets only more cold and stormy.

Gray eyes flicker for a moment down to your lack of proper protection, fingers twitching and tapping at his thigh as König remembers your expression the day he’d first met you.

“Do you want me to carry you?” He says slowly, cautious in his approach. The man wasn’t stupid—he wouldn’t touch you unless you explicitly stated it was alright for him to do so. “I will be gentle, I promise. I do not wish for your feet to freeze, I...” He pauses as you blink, staring into his soul. “I…will not touch you if you do not tell me to do it. You have my word.”

You continue to stand there for a moment, face unreadable before your head slowly turns to the vehicles in the street.

The neighborhood was so normal it still caused you to wonder how no one had spoken up and seen something. Rows of connected houses now with their lights on—faces peeking from the windows like little children on Christmas morning; trying to get glimpses of Santa and the man’s reindeer.

Finally, your gaze moves back to the hooded visage of König, able to see it better under the moonlight and the glare of falling snowflakes—a few of those frozen pieces sitting in the folds of the fabric.

“The hood scared them,” you utter about the others. König stiffens a bit, blinking at you but not looking away. “They’re used to people trying to hide their faces, but yours…with how large you are…”

“I understand.” König doesn't tear away his eyes. “...Did I scare you, Schatz?”

You don’t know why, but for what seems like the first time in years, the question makes you giggle. The beast of a man goes still with his feet on the ground, usually jittery and moving body captivated by the sound as it echoes over the night’s air—the puff of your breath as it moves around his hood; rustling it like leaves on a tree.

Eyes widening only a sliver more, König’s breath is in his throat.

It was like listening to a bird’s song.

“Maybe only a little,” you whisper to him. “But it’s okay. I’m scared of most things.”

He licks his lips, but you’re unable to see the slight quirk of them afterward.

“Then I will make it up to you, yes?” He holds out a hand. “Let me? The car is warm and your friends are waiting for you. My men say they ask about your health.”

You softly nod, the shadow of the house trying to drag you back into it—its blackened arms reaching and latching onto old scars. When your hand connects with König's, the man takes his time putting one foot back to a step and scooping you up from behind your knees. With a tiny grunt, you settle at his chest, calming your heartbeat with the fact that you know he won’t hurt you.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

In his arms, your bare legs hang in the air, hand wrapping his neck, and with a slightly nervous look to you as your body hovers. König watches for a moment, hesitating before he begins walking to the same vehicle the other woman had been moved into out of the snowfall.

“Can you tell me your name,” he asks to distract you from his hold, to get you more comfortable with him as his boots crunch through the packed powder on the ground—making sure to watch his step so as to not jostle you.

“Everyone calls me Cat.” Gray eyes blink your way, visible skin painted black. König’s head tilts. You can’t help but find it endearing.

“Katze?” He hums, and you can imagine his lips moving slightly upwards from the innocent tone of his voice as if taken by the strange moniker. “That is…interesting.”

You huff tinily, shivering again as your body moves to curl a little more.

The soldier quickly reassures you. “Nearly there.”

The vehicle is in front of you, and a nearby man opens the door for König as he carries you over. Nodding in thanks, the large individual eases you into one of the seats as the blast of warm air makes you sag—the other woman in there mulls closer, grabbing onto you and laughing through tears.

Looking back at them, you smile and feel yourself get a bit teary-eyed as everything starts to slowly come into focus.

Glancing outward, you stare at the snow that hits the dark hood of König, sticking and hanging off until the tiny white dots melt from the heat of his body. With his legs shifting he moves back a step and nods to you, eyes moving to stare at the ground for a moment.

“We will take you to base. From there you will all be given dorms and fresh apparel to—”

“Thank you, König,” you interrupted him. He stares, lips parted with the half-tones of cut-off speech. “And please extend my thanks to your men as well.”

“...Of course, Katze.” König stands straighter, always twitching fingers moving to the car door as engines start with a grinding roar. He nods again, the loose fabric swaying as the lenses of his rig stay firm at the movement. “There is no need to thank us. Relax. Sleep, if you wish to do it. The ride will be long.” The man’s gray eyes linger for a moment on your own, studying the bumps and small marks on your face. His hand tightens over the door as your gaze is stuck with his own; warmth blooming in his chest. He was glad he had found you.

König slips out a soft, “There are blankets under the seats,” before he closes the door with a firm thump of metal.

You can’t help but smile.

'…Hostages were taken back to [REDACTED] and received minor medical attention on site. Housed in [REDACTED] and were admitted for needed treatments/medications - all details/names listed in File 3 Section 6 for future reference. DNA was placed into databases.

Next of kin were informed of their family members’ position and/or state of being via phone call to the corresponding government official that then traveled through the appropriate channels once identified.'

You sit as a nurse hands you heating pads for your hands, which you take with a small thanks and clenched tightly, sucking every ounce of warmth from them to stop the shaking. Your body was heavy with the weight of new clothes and heated blankets, the room utterly normal in a way you’d not known for years. A corner table with books and a chess board—a connected bathroom stocked with amenities you may need; even a rug on the tile floor. You don’t know why that was shocking to you, but even the simplest thing was awe-inspiring. Your eyes had even slipped over a tiny nightlight near the door.

It nearly made you cry.

Your nurse moves back a bit, smiling down at you kindly.

“Is there anything else you might need, Dear?” Her accent is prominent, though not as much as König’s had been. She waits for your answer diligently as the pitcher of water and a similar glass sit on your nightstand.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Your socked feet rub together like a grasshopper. “I think that’s all.” Your eyelids blink. “But…” you stop.

“What is it?” The lady asks gently, hands slack at her sides.

“The man—König,” you pause. “Is he here?”

Blinking at you, the nurse tilts her head to the side in curiosity. “Not currently, no. At least, not in this specific building. He and his men are being debriefed across base. They will be there for a long while.” At your blank look, her brows slightly move up in accommodating comfort. “Would…you like me to tell him something for you?”

Playing with the heating pads in your hands, your face gains a slightly embarrassed sheen. You liked the thought of being near König, truthfully. No one had made you feel safe like he did—him and his selfless action of a large coat given with no intention of getting anything in return.

“Just,” you breathe softly. “Just that I’m sorry for losing his coat, and that I hope it wasn’t expensive.”

The nurse stares, very much confused but not about to question you. Her feet shift over the floor, and a light nod is sent your way.

“Of course. I’ll tell him.” She motions to the bed with a hand and explains that whenever you wished to sleep, you were free to use the bed—and the TV was open to you as well, though you might not be able to understand the local stations. With that, she exited the room.

Left alone, your head moves around the room slowly, taking it all in once more as the small bandages under your clothes pull at your flesh. The tears start slipping down your cheeks with no warning.

Wrist coming up to your eyes, the limb presses in tightly, water staining the flesh as it dribbles down, and your lip quivers like a worm below it. You don’t know why you’re crying now and not when König had gotten you out of that townhouse. Why now, when there wasn’t anything prompting you to do so?

But something was prompting you—the knowledge that you would never be going back to anyone who would mistreat you again. You had your own room. Good food. All the water that your stomach could drink down. A nightlight that pushes back the darkness even if you’re so used to living in it.

Through your soft sniffles, chuckles move out, filling the space with a warm echo. You pull the blankets closer to you and collapse backward onto the mattress, smiling widely at the ceiling.

That little invisible string dances as your heart pulls at it.

��

König’s leg lightly jumps from under his table, signing off his name at the bottom of a report before he stands and rubs a hand over the top of his un-hooded head. He grabs the paper and slips it into a manila folder, hands pale with deep scars running the length of them like fissures in the earth. Deftly taking the item, he walks out of his office and begins moving down the length of the building, fingers tapping over the yellowish material with a small connection of flesh and thick envelope.

Tap-tap, tappity-tap.

His fingers were always fidgeting—moving, tensing, twitching. It was one of the reasons they never let him become a recon sniper; the more obvious being the blatant size of his body. Both of which had been the cause of much teasing throughout his childhood.

But König’s mind was on something other than the report in his hands, and it was starting to become a very strong distraction. You. The women. Al-Qatala.

He was angry he hadn’t acted outside of that coffee shop—angry he hadn't noticed the signs right in front of him even if he had been powerless to stop it then. The soldier’s jaw clenched, the strong muscles of his jaw roving.

“Verdammt,” he hisses under his breath, glaring at the tile. “Should have done something.”

König gets to his commanding officer’s office and knocks, only staying long enough to hand him the folder with his finished report and leave once more. His mind wouldn’t stay silent tonight. There’s no doubt that he won’t be able to sleep unless he reassures himself that you and the others are okay.

The man’s head shifts back to the email he had gotten from your assigned nurse, whom he’d taken it upon himself to know the name of when he carried you into the base’s hospital—Eva.

‘...She says she wants to apologize for losing your coat…”

König’s heart had twisted at that—that was what you were concerned about? He had to tell you that it was alright, or else he would never know peace. Perhaps even ask how you’ve been treated so far, just to make sure that everything was comfortable for you.

The man’s eyelids move slightly downward in thought, a pull at his heart to walk outside. He passes a few other soldiers in the hallway, nodding to them with a tiny greeting but unwilling to stop and talk. In only fatigues, König exits the main doors quickly, lightly moving into a jog as his body shivers at the sudden chill touching his arms under the black compression shirt. Under him the snow has grown deeper, the large lights illuminating the almost greenish reflections of the winter landscape of open roads and large buildings.

Curfew was long past—this had to be quick.

Just a check-in, König tells himself as he nears the hospital, his breath puffing in the air. Then I can wipe my hands of it.

He slows as he nears the doors, huffing a breath as he pushes on the barrier, opening it with a squawk of hinges and metal. Entering, the front desk staff looked up at him in surprise, muttering his name in question.

“Katze?” He responds, pushing a hand over his head and feeling the melting snowflakes. His cheeks are a light shade of exposure-red, and inquisitive eyes shift over the two individuals slowly. “What room?”

The pair share a glance and tell him in the same breath. Room ten.

It’s no sooner after that König finds himself there, hand hovering over the handle as the hallway clock ticks beside his right ear. His gray eyes blink at the door, feet shuffling from under him before he clears his throat under his breath, glancing away for a second in hesitation.

Was this appropriate?

König didn’t have an answer, but the pull in his chest was tight and firm—he just needed to see you. A glimpse, nothing more. He raises his fist and raps his knuckles over the wood delicately, three tiny knocks that hit his ears like bullets from a gun; the bullets he’s put into pathetic Al-Qatala bodies and watched burst like sacks of fluid.

He waits, hands going to grasp at his shirt collar, pushing out a low breath to calm himself.

After a long moment, his foot taps the floor, blinking. Again he knocks—a bit louder.

“She is sleeping, you evolutionsbremse,” he utters, accent low and grating. “Leave her alone.” But even if you are, his nerves peek their head over the brimstone wall of his brain.

With his fingers caressing the handle, slowly moved to clutch it fully, swallowing the metal in his grip. König takes a deep breath into his lungs, letting it fill them up. Again, he tells himself, just a check-in.

He twists the doorknob and sets his forearm on the wood, pushing the barrier open.

König moves so that his body makes no noise, even with how large it is as he angles the side of his head through the opening. He finds a large mound of blankets atop the bed—stacked and layered so heavily that he has to blink in surprise at how you can breathe under them; because you were under them.

Gray eyes make out the small sliver of skin peaking out from the side of the bed—fingers—and the top of your forehead near the pillows formed around your skull. Unconsciously, a soft smile works its way over König’s lips until he finds himself chuckling.

“Niedlich,” he mutters, scars over his face shifting as he speaks.

Sighing lowly, König pulls back his head, beginning to close the door once more.

“König…?” Your tiny voice makes him halt like he had in the townhouse.

Eyes wide and lips parted at being caught, the door remains open, only a sliver visible to your vision as your furrowed brows are stuck at the barrier. A red sheen moves across the soldier’s face in a slow sweep of embarrassment that goes bone deep.

With a lick of his lips, König re-opens the door slightly.

“I did not mean to wake you, Katze.” He finds your eyes and nods to you. “I apologize. Go back to sleep—you must be tired.”

“Wait,” you utter, moving your head fully out from under the blankets. König pauses, eyes staring as his other hand comes up to itch at the back of his neck.

“What is it,” the man asks, opening the door fully and moving inside. “Do you need anything?”

The question had hit you in your thin slumber, interrupted only partially by the opening of your door to the familiar pull of gray eyes and a strong build. A buzz-cut head. You take a slow breath to wake yourself up more, watching him from your bed. “...Did you know that I would be in that house?”

König tilts his head at the question, sighing slightly and glancing at the clock inside of the room on your nightstand. He frowns.

“No,” he explains gently, coming closer. “No, I did not. I do not get told such things—only where to shoot and where not to.” The man tries a small smile, kneeling on one leg down by the bed and staring into your sleepy eyes. “But I am glad I found you again, yes? You had me worried.”

“You were worried?” You can’t quite grasp it.

“Ja,” he nods. “Your eyes—they have stuck with me, Schatz, you understand?”

Your eyebrows pull up your face, blinking in shock.

“...Yours, too,” you confess. König’s heart flutters, listening until your lips have fallen still. “They’re very nice, König.”

He goes sheepish, lips flicking up into a smile and his eyes daring away for a moment. “You can thank my mother for them, then.” He chuckles. “I have stolen the family's eyes, I was told.”

You chuckle with him, hand coming to rub at your cheek. A silence falls between the two of you.

“I don’t sleep well,” you tell him in the relative darkness, light from the hallway and your night light illuminating the dips and bone structure of his face. “I was awake when you opened the door.”

He nods after a moment. “Ja.” A pause. “I don’t either…Nightmares?”

You watch him before nodding tinily.

“Ah,” he mutters. “They are not pleasant, I’m sorry that they have been plaguing you. Do you…” König wonders if he should leave—this was far more than he had anticipated. “Do you wish for me to stay?”

Why had he said that?

The string between the two of you tightens evermore, gaining another thread just as it would for the years to come until it became as unbreakable as steel.

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” you begin but are quickly interrupted with a shake of a square head and a huff of a sharp nose.

“You are not. Do not call yourself such.” His accent deepens with emotion, eyes narrowing as the dark brows on his face pull in. “If you want me to stay, I will stay. Wake you if you become shaky, yes? Keep the bad dreams at bay.”

“But what about you?” Your voice moves around the room as König stands and goes to the table in the back, shifting one of the chairs so that it’s angled your way. You shift so you can watch him sit back, grunting as his legs move out in front of him, opening so he can be more comfortable. He needed a bigger chair, but he wasn’t going to complain about it.

“I’m not tired, Schatz.” A lie. His muscles are heavy, and he longs for his bed in the barracks. He pushes out, “Please, go back to sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

You stare for a long while, studying him and how he fidgets in his seat of choice. A small laugh meets the man’s ears as he crosses his arms over his chest. König pauses, blinking over in confusion. His lips move upwards slowly.

“What are you laughing at, then, hm?”

“You look like you’re about to break it,” you mutter, head nuzzling the pillow under you as fatigue claws its way under your skin.

König huffs, fingers twitching over the meat of his biceps as he slouches. He nods jokingly. “Perhaps,” he shrugs, the window behind him letting a slight tinge of cold air in from outside. “It would not be the first, I’m afraid, though it would be quite the embarrassment to do it in front of you, Katze.” He smirks. “But I’ll say, hitting my head on door frames hurts more than letting my arsch kiss the ground.”

You laugh under your heap, your body jerking to the movement of your lungs.

“I bet,” you say, fingers grasping one of your blankets and pulling it closer. “It’s a funny image.”

“You can laugh all you want,” König jokes, eyes soft as they gaze at you. “It does not bother me.”

Your sweet sounds of amusement waft out from under the crack in the door, where a small group of curious nurses mull and listen with glances to one another. A doctor moves past the hallway where they stand, and all scatter on quick feet.

'…Signed,

[REDACTED]

SUBMITTED: 0517, 25, November 2021

END OF MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’

RETURNING TO SELECTION MENU…

STAND BY…'

It’s only after most of the other women leave—sent home to awaiting families or loved ones—that you know your time is coming to a close here in Berlin, Germany. While you’re excited to put this behind you, you can’t help but feel a bit…lost.

There’s something that keeps you here, on this base, until you’re the last out of all of them, waiting. And then you’re given the green light to go—go home—and suddenly you have a backpack full of necessities and you’re closing the door to your room with the little nightlight’s plastic body pushing against your spine. Yet, you stand in the hallway for a long minute, fingers interlocked.

You take a long, deep, breath.

Over the weeks of recovery, König had been a constant companion when he wasn’t needed. He had eased you back into a comfortable state, letting you somewhat lose the black-and-white view you had gained of the world. But there was only so much he could do, even if his soft eyes were still stuck in your dreams—the good ones, of course.

You needed to go home, and, today, the C-17 was whirring on the tarmac, waiting for you to be transported to a military base far from here where you would be processed and, ultimately, let go.

Let go. It was jarring to think about, all of that freedom. What would you do with it? Right now, you don’t have the faintest clue. It was the best feeling you can remember having.

Smiling, you take one last look at the room behind you and walk on.

At the entrance, you say a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to the nurses and doctors in broken German, shaking their hands as Eva kisses your forehead and whispers how happy she is to have had you here for such little time—you know what she means and you chuckle with her at the double-edged sword.

König waits by the door, holding it open with…you blink at the item in his hands as well as his sudden appearance. Canvas fabric. A coat.

The coat.

“I had to have it processed,” he says, smiling as you gape at him. “Very long process. It was found in the closet in the townhouse.”

“Then why are you handing it to me,” you ask, tilting your head and walking closer.

“I gave it to you, did I not?” The man hums, head tilting as he motions with it again. “It’s a good coat, Katze. Winters get cold.” Gray eyes crinkle gently. “I would hate for you to shiver, wherever it is that you end up, yes?”

You shake your head, cheeks hot. But your hands don’t hesitate to grasp the item, König’s hold on it remains fast, though, and you blink at him as you both keep it gently clasped like it’s worth its weight in gold.

König stares at you, the door still kept open behind him. He opens and closes his mouth for a moment as you tilt your head.

“Keep it safe for me,” is what he ends with, but his expression tells you he’s not talking about the coat.

It makes your arms tingle—your heart skips a beat.

“I’ll be sure it never gets lost,” you smile warmly, eyes malleable as the make of their color glints. There is a connection to this man that transcends words, and it is tied to you just as heavily as it is to him; unexplainable, incomprehensible, non-describable.

Enigmatic.

König’s reverential face is soft with care.

“Good,” he mutters, unable to look away. “Very good.”

Clearing his throat, his grays dart to the floor, shifting his feet to move backward. He pushes open the door wider for you, and you hold your backpack in one hand as you shift past him and slip into his coat.

It was exactly how you remembered it, and you sank into the fabric with a thankful sigh and a fluttering of your lashes. You shift the bag back over your shoulders, letting the straps fall into the bulk of the extra material.

The snow wasn’t falling today, and the ground was shoveled of any white powder too. On the air, you can hear the whir of the C-17.

König comes up beside you, a hand hovering over the small of your back as he guides you along. For the most part, the walk to the tarmac is silent with the weight of the future. You had no phone. No socials. You didn’t even know if you wanted any, to be honest. Your mind had convinced you that a good bout of soul-searching was exactly what you needed. And you had to do that alone.

Your lips are thin as your legs take you closer to the plane, König’s scent stuck into the stitches of the coat and covered your senses.

At the ramp, he stops as your feet take you onto the metal. Closing your eyes for a moment, you turn and lock gazes with him—gray hiding away what other, more human, emotions to be found. It was a slate of carefully crafted acceptance, and your own followed soon after.

It had to be this. The string wouldn’t break, no, but it had to be stretched to such a point to come back stronger.

“Thank—”

“Don’t,” he says, not blinking, looking up at you.

You smile. “What do you want me to say, then?”

“You don’t have to say anything to me.” You hadn't known it then, but the both of you had truly thought that this would be the last of your meetings. It produced a pulse in both of your hearts that would never be told aloud. “....Live well,” König utters. “Heal, Mein Schatz.”

The soldier wasn't one to give his chances to hope.

Your eyes follow as he backs up, moving away as you stare. In his head, König pleads with you to stop and give him a reprieve from the hypnosis of your gaze, the addictive movement of your head as it tilts to the side.

Live well.

You send him a smile, a delicate thing, and then you back up a step and turn, disappearing into the darkness.

The string follows, and it continues to do so even as your hands slip into your pockets hours later, bumping into the small form of a black flip phone. The note hidden inside of it.

‘For whenever you find what you’re looking for.’

'REQUEST FOR ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE

REQUESTED BY: [REDACTED]

ENTERED: DECEMBER 15, 2021

TIME: 1422

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED….

RETURNING TO FILE SELECT MENU…

FILE SELECTED….

TRANSLATING…

STAND BY…

REQUEST OF HONORABLE ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE OF [REDACTED] APPROVED ON JANUARY 2, 2022

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED…

SYSTEM SHUTTING DOWN'

You sit in a coffee shop in Berlin, Germany, by the window. It wasn’t just any coffee shop, but you try not to think about all of that. It was all in the past—three years, now. You like to think you’d learned something in that time.

“Danke schön,” you say to the woman who brings you your drink, nodding kindly. You take a small sip, humming and winking at her teasingly. “Perfekt.”

She chuckles, wiping her hands on her apron. “Möchten Sie noch etwas anderes dazu?”

“Nein, nein,” you shake your head, waving a hand that soft bumps the flip phone on the table. “Danke.”

The lady walks away, and you take another sip of the hot beverage, never put off by the heat.

It was winter again, and your eyes followed the flakes as they fell from a cloudy sky, finding the beauty in it easily as you sat inside. The scarf around your neck is loose—your gifted coat open. You smile to yourself and hum, watching people walk past outside, thinking about their lives and how they live them.

A large form travels out from a shop across the street, a plastic bag in his loose grip. He was not small, no, this man was a beast of height and strength alike. The loping, canid-like, walk was accented by the twitch of his fingers over his quarry.

Your wide eyes stay stuck to him for a long moment as he moves to the crosswalk, people shifting out of his way as he ignores them. Familiarity strikes like lighting—a buzz down your spine that leaves you straightening.

After a long moment, a breathless laugh sneaks out of you.

There were just some things that people were never meant to understand.

Your hand places your cup back on the table, picking up the old flip phone and pushing it open. Your thumb runs the keypad, moving to the only contact that had ever been entered into the device.

Pressing, you move it to your ear as you watch with a soft expression, heart pattering.

Across the way, the man tenses, hand patting his leg before the other hand moves inside his pocket and shifts the item out. People walk away, moving to the other side of the crosswalk as he stares at the contact.

A minute passes, and all the while you hold your breath.

He presses and moves the phone to his ear, staying as still as stone. As still as a man afraid his hood might scare a group of terrified women.

His voice graces your ear.

“...Katze?” You beam, trapped in the warmth of the coat around your shoulders.

“How do you feel about coffee, König?”

Blue-gray eyes had never been more beautiful than when they snapped up to meet yours.

TAGS:

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zan0tix · 20 days

Note

Any general thoughts on/relating to the Brobot?

Have my half awake scrawlings...

I really love the brobot!!!! People really misconstrue it and also leave it out in a lot of dirkjake talk? Its a big player in not only how dirk expresses his affection/desire towards jake but also in their multi year spanning unspoken game of gay chicken 😭😭(all of dirks splinters are but Not about them rn)

It was sent yknow under the pretense that jake loves wrestling and wished so bad to have somebody he could wrestle with. But at the same time it protects jake from the horrors of hellmurder island (seen before they strife), pushing jake into the Damsel in distress role he wasnt expecting to play even before all the shit in the game, with Dirk being his hero.

Jake says he keeps it on a high difficulty because apparently in the Novice mode he says their interactions become "too tender" and doesnt want to elaborate, Friendly reminder! His convo with jane on the SAME DAY dirk pulled off that big romantic overture and the kiss happens and him and dirk begin "dating".. is the same day he asked jane if it didnt make him weird for wanting to date dirk. And he also says hed joke around with dirk about how theyd soo make a great couple if dirk were a girl haha.

I imagine the brobot and well. Getting physical like that with a robot that supposedly looks like dirk probably gave jake his internal gay awakening at 13 but he just never wanted to actually confront it and instead just wanted to brush past everything 😭😭 (See: every single time sexuality or romance comes up in relation to jake he is literally always thinking about dirk somehow and he never directly talks about his attraction to men or how that reflects/contradicts on his self image of the Movie Star Hero guy)

and jake doesnt actually hate the thing either, he tells jane he thinks it genuinely did improve his fighting capabilities (Which we see it did in collide! he beat basically the whole felt with guns and fisticuffs alone, no hope powers.) Which serves as a pretty evident parallel to dave who also is good at fighting, even if he doesnt want to be. (see dirk + dave convo)

This one comes from hussies authors notes in the aradiabot and equius scene (which equius imagery being invoked with dirk. something i could totally rant about another time haha) but yeah. Jake was being selfish asshat in that log forcing jane into a corner and wringing what he wanted to hear out of her, and also not giving a shit about the brobot (Which served as his protector and only other semblance of human connection since he was 13 and was a BIRTHDAY GIFT FROM DIRK) KILLING ITSELF? But hes so preoccupied talking about dirk. THE REAL DIRK. And immediately after jake loses the dirk splinter that protected him, HE (AND DIRK) CREATE A NEW ONE FOR HIMSELF USING THEIR COMBINED POWERS/?

Hussie is lying.. somebody Does care about dirks feelings. a whole lot to the point they activate their powers unwittingly Because of it. and its jake. but jake just cant admit that himself. (He cannot admit his real feelings until given permission to, dirk would have to concede the game of gay chicken first using his words and not just actions)

ANYWAY. hussie is so right its so easy to get sidetracked times one million talking about this comic. BUT AHH!! BROBOT. his existence.. tragic.. Jakes really smart in knowing that all of dirks splinters enlighten aspects of himself he doesnt oft share, and the brobot served as another dirk action on the pile of dirk actions he engineers to signify his deep immense care for jake, where he lets these grand gestures and implications sit out in the open without ever actually saying what they mean and where his feelings lay.

EVEN IF ITS SUPER OBVIOUS. The d man cant use his big boy words to actually describe his feelings despite how much a yaps! so jake doesnt know if hes even allowed to say anything about his own. Fellas: Is it gay if you labour for supposedly an extended period of time to create a custom robot in your own image to ship in pieces to your best bro guy crush who is HUNDREDS OF YEARS IN THE PAST because you cant be there yourself?

I think this hal message says enough about how bad dirk wished he could visit jake 💀💀

#Yes.. yapping.. so fun.. i have so many things to yap on.. mwahaha..#brobot #dirkjake #jakedirk #jake english #dirk strider #homestuck #my art #Anyway guys all of dirks splinters are intrinsically tied to his love for jake because its an immutable part of his existence-#As a fictional character within a story. Shoutout narrative soulmates hashtag literally because theyre not real #daniel talks #IM SO TIRED GOING TO BED. AAH.

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chaniceroses · 3 months

Text

Bad Boys Ride or Die (ARMANDO X READER) PART TEN

The ride back was extremely awkward, Kelly and Dorn never said a word since Armando was with us and Marcus and Mike debated about old things. You eventually made it to Kelly’s home, got out of the car and started walking towards it, when you noticed Kelly pointing her finger back while side-eyeing Armando. So you turned to look at him, to see him not paying attention.

“All of you can come in, except him.”, Kelly said walking into her place. You looked back at him and watched as he shrugged.

“Armando, just wait here and let us talk to her.”, you added, following Marcus, Mike and Dorn and shutting the door.

You watched as Kelly was now pacing around, you could tell she was uncomfortable with the idea of Armando being in her home. So you scanned around, trying to allow your eyes to catch something so that you could change the subject. That’s when you noticed boxers and underwear near the couch. You thought she lived alone.

“You stay here by yourself?”you asked, pointing over to the underwear that was on the ground

Kelly and Dorn gave each other a slight look….you got them.

“We’re just friends..I mean, we’re seeing each other, you know…”, Kelly responded, trying to come up with an answer.

“We didn’t want our relationship to interfere with work, that’s why we’ve been keeping it a secret.”, Dorn explained, looking at Kelly and then at you.

Mike and Marcus looked at them with a shocked expression and then threw their hands up.

“Armando has to be with us everywhere we go, he’ll be the one to help us. Him and y/n”, Mike continued walking up to Kelly. You watched as Kelly argued back, and continued to be against it. This was going to be harder than you thought.

ARMANDO POV

I stood outside on the porch and watched the waves hit the sand. They had me waiting outside, just because people were in their feelings about me. I could hear Mike and y/n trying to convince them to let me in. I don’t need permission from anybody to do anything. So I went inside and shut her door.

They all were so busy, debating with each other that they didn’t even notice that I had walked in. Until Kelly shifted her eyes over to me. That’s when she walked up on me, pulling out her gun. I looked at her and then at the weapon that was now pointing at me.

“Well this isn’t necessary.”, I whispered, looking over at Mike and y/n.

“Chill Kelly.”, Marcus sighed.

“Kelly, I know you’re upset but he’s not going to do anything, right Armando?”Mike asked, looking over at me. He had his lips pursed out, telling me that I had no choice.

I examined Kelly and what she was wearing. A t-shirt that looked way too big for her, however, she did look fine in it. I shifted my eyes to everyone that was now staring at me, waiting for a response. Even y/n.

“Sure”, I sarcastically smiled, walking away. I kept my distance from the group to ensure that another gun wouldn’t be pulled out on me, when I noticed underwear laying on the floor. I looked up to see how close Kelly and Dorn were, they’re with each other. I watched as Kelly talked about not wanting me in her home and what I did to Howard…Same ol’, Same ol’. Until the perfect opportunity for me to create an argument between y/n and I popped up and I wasn’t going to allow myself to miss out on it.

Y/N POV

You watched as Dorn tried to calm Kelly's nerves down about Armando being in her home. She was against it but after what felt like forever of convincing, she finally agreed.

“I’ll let him stay but I’m watching you.”, she sighed, looking over at Armando.

“I want you too.”Armando responded, sitting down on a stool against the wall.

You, Kelly, Marcus, Dorn and Mike were flabbergasted. You couldn’t help but to turn your head and look at him. What the hell did he mean he “wanted her” to?

“Look..guys he’s just kidding.”, you laughed, trying to ignore what was just said

“Armando…”, Marcus scoffed, walking towards him. You watched as he threw his hands up as a sign of “surrender” and looked at you. You turned your head to avoid eye-contact.

“Kelly, are you okay…we need you guys help. We’re a team.”, Mike continued, looking at Kelly and Dorn.

“Yeah, I am. I’m fine, okay.”, Kelly sighed, leaning into Dorn’s chest.

“Yes you are.”, Armando flirted, getting up and walking towards the group.

“Yo, what the fuck is your problem?”, Dorn questioned, turning around to face him

“Armando….”

“Seriously.” you scoffed. You were jealous at this point, you and Armando just kissed not even thirty minutes ago and he’s flirting with Kelly now. You were livid.

“Look, can we focus!”Mike yelled, while looking at everyone in the room.

“We need to figure out where McGrath is, so everyone go to the van.”Mike instructed, pointing towards the door.

You looked at Armando disgustingly and then walked outside, you could hear Marcus talking about how mad you were but you didn’t care. Who the fuck did Armando think he was? You went to sit on the porch, allowing the others to walk to the van and figure shit out themselves.

“Y/n you’re not coming?”, Armando asked, sarcastically. You remained silent, and stared as he allowed Mike, Marcus and Dorn to get on the van.

“You can go…”, Kelly demanded, pointing inside.

“Ladies first, i’m a gentleman…”, Armando smirked, intensely staring at Kelly.

You watched as Kelly stepped onto the small stairs and went inside, when Armando gave her a fake air butt slap. Now you could feel your blood boiling, while you were shaking your legs. Until you allowed yourself to think….Breathe

“In and out, In…out.”, you whispered, looking out into the ocean. That’s when you realized he was trying to make you jealous. To be upset and to drool over him. You knew a man with an ego like Armando, they love women over them so you quickly thought of something.

“Well, he’s always looking at me, especially when I’m talking to Mike or other men in general.”, You whispered. You looked down to see that you were still wearing the flannel from earlier. However your legs were covered. So you found yourself looking at the ocean, your top and then your jeans, repeatedly. That’s when it hit you, you knew exactly how to beat Armando at his own game.

ARMANDO’S POV

I was inside the van, sitting against the chair that was up against the wall. Marcus, and Mike were talking to Dorn and Kelly, to help them search through Howard’s files to see if we could get anything that would lead us to McGrath. Y/n and McGrath. Y/n and McGrath. I couldn’t help but to repeat that in my head, how did he pull someone like y/n. Have to be a pervert because she’s young, around my age, so imagine back when…..nevermind.

I was so caught up into thinking about what McGrath and y/n relationship may have been like, that I didn’t even notice the van door being opened. It was y/n and she was wet. Why the hell was she wet? “Happy to see you…joining us.”, Mike whispered, looking at y/n and then down at her legs and then back at the computer.

When the hell did she take off her jeans and why were they dripping water.

“Yeah, I figured you guys would need my help?”, she smiled, walking over to Mike.

“What the hell were you doing y/n? Going for a swim?”Marcus laughed, looking down at her. I watched as Dorn slightly shifted his head down to her legs and then at me.

“No, I felt my body overheating a little bit so I decided to go to the water and wet myself a little bit, since that’s the only thing that knows how to get the job done.”, she smiled, keeping her focus on Marcus.

I watched as Marcus looked at me, then at y/n and laughed. He knew exactly what was going on.

“Armando, baby…you wouldn’t mind me sitting across from you. Just until we find what we’re looking for.”, she continued walking over. Baby, when the hell did she start calling me baby? I remained silent but couldn’t help but to observe her legs, the way the water glided down it slowly, while her skin was smooth and as silky as brown silk. She was turning me on and she knew it.

I looked up at Mike to see him slightly laughing, I didn’t find it funny at all. I could feel hot tension slowly crawling up my back while I tried to avoid y/n presence. This was going to be hard.

Y/N POV

You knew you had him, you made sure to walk over to the chair that was across from him a certain way and to throw enough water on you so that it would keep you soaked. You sat down and watched as he kept his head turnt from you. You began to act oblivious, just to stir up a conversation.

“So..Armando, how was your day?”, you asked, messing with your hair. You made sure it stayed wet, that way if you wanted to take it down and coil it, you could. You watched as he adjusted himself on the stool and turned to look at you.

“What do you mean?”, he answered, giving you a slight look and then turning back towards Mike and the rest of the group. You could see him tapping his foot, probably hoping that something will be brought up.

“You don’t mind, do you? I’m still sweating and it’s hot in this van.”. You flirted, unbuttoning the top part of your flannel that will be revealing a little bit of your cleavage. You could feel water running down it, and you know that it would be perfect to catch Armando’s attention. And you were right, he was watching you like a hawk. So you scooted up in the chair that you were sitting in, leaned your head against the wall and slightly departed your legs open, not enough for him to see anything but just enough for him to imagine.

ARMANDO’S POV

I hate her. I hate her for the way she’s teasing and I hate her for the fact that she was beating me at my own games. I watched as she took a deep sigh and adjusted her hips forward. Her thighs were showing and her legs were slightly separating. I was turned on, and I could feel my bestfriend knocking to be exposed. However, this wasn’t the place. I needed to get y/n alone, to have her all to myself.

“Armando, you never answered my—”, before she could finish her sentence, Mike yelled at us to come see whatever was happening on the screens.

I got up to walk over to y/n as soon as I saw her stand but she ignored me and ran towards the group. Clever move. Walking over, I could see an extreme and intense look on everyone’s faces. What the hell is going on?

“ BEHIND YOU REGGIE!!”, Marcus yelled, pointing at the screen. I turned to see a tall, black guy with barely hair and a mustache fighting off guys that were in a kitchen.

“What’s going on?”I asked, looking at each screen that was in front of me.

“McGrath’s people.”, y/n replied, folding her arms. I looked down to see her breasts pushed up together. Could it be a push-up bra? Or maybe it's the way she has her arms folded? I must’ve been staring too long because she noticed and started buttoning up the shirt that she was wearing. Damn.

We all watched intently as Reggie fought each person. One moment it was him and one person and then the next minute, it was five. By the time he was finished, the house was smoking and two women were running out the door, while Reggie soluted the camera and then followed. Had to be Marcus’s family.

“Wait, how did he know that camera was there?”Marcus asked, looking around.

I watched as Mike stood there for a second, as if he was in deep thought and hurriedly ran out the van. The rest of us looked at each other and then followed after him.

“Mike what is?”, Dorn asked, shutting the van door.

He didn’t respond, he just pulled out a phone, punched something in and threw it up to his ear. We all just stood there confusingly and watched Mike as he kept trying to call the same number, over and over again.

“Damn it, she’s not answering.”, he sighed, looking up at y/n. I turned to look at her and watched as she looked at me back, she was worried.

“Who is he trying to call?”I was curious about why he was panicking.

“His wife, Christine.”, y/n answered looking at me and then back at Mike. We watched as he took a couple steps away from us, and called again. This time he was successful.

“Christine…baby, you need to leave…No, don’t worry about…who’s there? Shit.”, he stuttered looking over at us.

“Judy’s daughter, Callie is there.”, he sighed looking at Marcus.

“Take her and leave, some bad people may be heading your way, Christine…hello?”Mike continued. I watched as he tried to talk to his wife, he must’ve not been getting through to her. Maybe a bad connection?

“The phone line was disconnected.”

That’s when he quickly received a notification, it was a video. We couldn’t see what was going on but we could hear everything. McGrath and his men had Judy’s daughter, Callie and Christine. And he wanted us to transfer all of the smuggled money from Howard’s files to his, and give ourselves up for Callie and Christine.

“He didn’t give us a location…how can we find them??”, y/n asked, looking at Kelly and Dorn.

“I don’t know, we will need to use that phone so we can see if we can track him down that way.”, Kelly replied, reaching her hand towards Mike. I watched as Mike passed the phone to her.

“We can try to find them tonight, He’ll kill them if we don’t.”, Mike continued looking at all of us.

“I’m sorry Mike but you won’t find him. He’ll probably take them to a whole new location. Give Kelly and I time to go through the phone and the files to find something that will help us.”, Dorn explained.

“How long will that be?”

“Could be all night…”, Dorn replied.

“They’ll be dead by then!”Mike yelled, walking towards the shore. We watched as Marcus went after him, while y/n, Dorn, Kelly and I stayed back. He was hurt and I would be too if the woman I was married to was taken from me.

“Can you guys give us a second?”, y/n asked, turning towards Dorn and Kelly. They responded with a nod and then headed back inside.

“Armando, McGrath isn’t going to kill them.”, y/n said looking at me.

“And how do you know that?”

I was lost on how she could be so sure about him. Yeah she knew him but when it comes to holding people hostages, you treat them like rags. You never keep them for a long time and at some point you trash them.

“Because…if McGrath wanted to kill them, he would’ve done it. He never waits.”, she explained looking at me. I knew that she had a point, so I just shook my head in agreement.

“I believe the best thing for us to do right now, is to go to a hotel and rest just a little bit. Just so we can have some kind of energy for when the time comes to meet up with him. Because I’m sure it won’t be pretty.”, she explained, putting her hands on her hips.

“I agree, we should go tell him…well you should.”, I replied, turning my attention towards Marcus and Mike. They were hugging. Mike's shoulders were slumped, showing a sign of defeat.

“Well c’mon then.”, she smiled walking towards Marcus and Mike.

We weren’t too far away from Marcus and Mike, so by the time we started walking up to Mike. He was already heading back towards us.

“Mike…you don’t have anything to worry about. McGrath won’t kill them, he’s just using them until we come to him and bring Howard’s files. I promise you that…Armando and I won’t allow anything to happen to them.”, y/n promised, looking at Mike and then at me.

“Yeah.”, I responded. I allowed y/n to lead this time, trusting that she knew what she was talking about.

And if I’m being honest, this probably won’t be the last time she’ll lead. I love when she becomes dominant and takes control.

“ He’s after all of us but now we have two innocent people involved, so we all need to be focused and have a clear mind. I suggest we go to a hotel, we don’t have to stay there the whole time but just until Dorn and Kelly send us info about McGrath and where he may be located. This will allow us to clean up and get some type of rest before we go after him.”, she explained.

I watched as Mike had a face of disapproval until Marcus softly touched him on the shoulder and told him that it was for the best. Which it was, I am going to use this time to absolutely fuck the shit out of y/n and she doesn’t even know it.

Y/N POV

You could tell that Mike didn’t want to follow through with what you suggested, however thankfully Marcus was there to back you up. So the four of you headed back to Kelly’s house and explained the plans that you had for the rest of the night. It was late and you were tired so as soon as Kelly and Dorn offered to give you guys a bag filled with materials that you’ll need for tomorrow and to drop you off. You made sure that you and Armando were the first ones out of her home, that way Mike wouldn’t change his mind last minute.

The group decided to not pick a hotel that was too far, that way Dorn and Kelly would be able to automatically pick you guys up. Walking in you were met by the aroma of the smell of roses, it had to be the kind of air-freshener that was used. You allowed the boys to walk up to the counter and deal with the pay of the rooms, while you sat on the lounging chairs and listened.

“Oh shit, Mike Lowry and Marcus Burnett do you guys remember me, Jojo!!!!?”, the guy at the counter excitedly yelled. You watched as Mike and Marcus threw their heads around and scanned the area, probably making sure no one heard him say their names. Armando looked back at you and pointed at the guy. You shrugged your shoulders in response.

“Hey Jojo, I know that it’s been forever and we would love to talk but we’re busy and tired so can you get us a room”, Mike sighed, smiling at him and then pointing at the group.

“You four are together?”

“Yeah.”, Marcus replied, leaning his body against the counter.

“You…four..together..For real?”, he repeated, shockingly. At first you were confused on why he was acting that way but then the longer you stared at Marcus, Mike and Armando…the more you realized what it looked like. Hell the only thing you were wearing was the oversized flannel t-shirt that Mike gave you earlier.

So you decided to get up and tease Armando some more, the way you did earlier. Unbuttoning the top of your buttoned shirt, you walked over to the counter and softly pushed Armando, Mike and Marcus out the way. Allowing them to form a circle around you, while you stayed in the middle.

“You’re cute…what’s your name?”, you smirked, tilting your head slowly to the side.

“My….My…My name? Uh damn..what’s my name?”, he stuttered, slapping his head.

“Jojo…can you get our rooms or not?”, Marcus interrupted.

“Hey, don’t do that baby, he can probably come and have fun with us.”, you flirted, turning around to Armando, Marcus and Mike. You could help but to laugh on the inside. The way they were trying to read you and figure out what the hell you were doing.

“Watch and pay attention.”, you whispered looking at Armando and then walking past him. He was livid, he tried grabbing your arm to stop you but you gently rejected him.

“Jojo is your name, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well..Jojo, are you free tonight?”, you smirked, walking around the corner to where he was.

“Because I am…and they are too. Maybe you can join us and..I don’t know…make it..five…”, you continued, now standing in front of him. You could see his heart drop as excitement poured over his face. You grabbed the tie that he was wearing and pulled him close to you. He was now sweating.

“Um…One room…you said?”, he stuttered, examining your chest that was now exposed.

“Actually..papi, make it two, I want my own room…”

“Three....I’m not sharing a room with them, they act like children.”Armando interrupted, leaning against the counter. He was watching intensely and you knew what you were doing was bothering him.

“Can you make it three then, please Jojo.”, you begged, seductively staring into his eyes.

“At this point, give us the damn rooms for free Jojo and fix yourself.”, Marcus sighed, frustratedly.

“Yeah Jojo, you should and you should also stop by my room later, when you’re free.”, you flirted, letting go and leaving from behind the counter. You walked back towards the boys to be met by Marcus and Mike staring at you with a “girl-are-you-crazy-” look, while Armando ignored you.

“Yeah, I can most definitely give it to you guys for free tonight….Of course not because…you know..but.. You know…I know you Mike, that’s why.”, he stuttered, frantically pacing around to find the keys.

You pointed towards the row of keys that were hanging on the wall and watched as he grabbed three of them and passed them out to Mike, Armando and then you.

The four of you grabbed the keys and then walked over to the elevator and watched as Jojo followed. Mike was the first to get on, then soon the rest of you followed.

“Were you being serious?”, Jojo asked, as the elevator began to shut.

“So serious..”, you smiled, waving at him. You kept your smile as the elevator doors were slowly shutting and watched as Jojo walked back to the counter.

As soon as the doors closed, you stopped smiling and walked over towards the walls of the elevator. You threw your head back against it and started buttoning up your shirt. You felt that the room was too silent so you looked up to see Marcus, Mike and Armando looking at you.

“What?”, you asked confusingly. You knew exactly why they were looking at you but you decided to act oblivious.

“Shit nothing, that was crazy.”, Marcus laughed, walking up to you to give you dap. You returned the favor and couldn’t help but to laugh about it.

“Very much so, never thought that you would do something like that..ever.”, Mike giggled, caressing his mustache.

You turned your attention towards Armando to see him leaning against the wall while trying not to look at you. He was clenching and unclenching his jaw, causing his temples to show. While the tip of his foot was tapping against the floor.

“I mean…Armando that shit was crazy, like seriously. The way Jojo freezed when she walked up to him. He was stuttering, BAD…i’ve never seen that happen before. You did that y/n.”, Marcus smiled, while clapping his hands.

“It was bullshit!!! That was bullshit, what the fuck were you doing y/n!?”, Armando yelled, now looking at you. His eyes looked as if they were black and the veins in his throat were slowly making an appearance.

“Ah shit.”, Mike whispered, scooting closer towards Marcus. Leaving room between you and Armando.

You looked at him and turned your focus towards the numbers that were lighting up. Your hall was coming up.

“I was just helping Marcus and Mike out, Armando…so they wouldn’t have to pay anything. And it worked.”, you explained, keeping your attention on the doors.

“She’s not lying, Armando…it worked.”Marcus supported. Mike shrugged his shoulders in agreement and then threw his hands up as a peace offering once he noticed how mad Armando was.

After what felt like forever, the doors finally opened. Allowing you, Marcus, Mike and Armando to leave. Your rooms were at the end of the hallway, next to each other. You walked up to your room and put your key through the knob, after a couple twists and turns the door finally opened and you were greeted by the crisp, freezing temperatures of the room.

You turned around to shut it, when you noticed Armando walking into his room and then slamming the door. You won and you knew you did. It felt good to shatter his pride and to beat him at his own games. He started it and you finally finished it. Shutting the door, you ran over to your nice, fluffed out bed and threw yourself on top of it and laid there. It felt like you were being hugged by one big cloud, while you were in Antartica. You were so focused on laying down that you didn’t realize the open balcony, so you got up and walked over to it and glanced at the night sky. You were in love with the view that you had. The bright lights lit up Miami, while the ocean shore danced around freely with each other.

You stood there for a couple minutes, then decided to go and hop in the shower since it was late. About twenty minutes passed by and you were finally out of the shower. Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your body, you walked over to the blow-dryer that was in your bathroom and started drying your hair. When you heard a knock on your door.

“HOLD ON!!”, you yelled, setting the dryer down while looking at yourself in the mirror. Your hair had shrunk from it being wet and you didn’t want to open the door with your hair looking the way it did, so you decided to grab another towel and wrap it.

Turning off the lights and walking over to the door, you took a quick glance at the clock that was on the nightstand and looked at the time.

“It’s one in the morning, who the hell is it?!”, you asked, walking up to the door and looking through the peephole. It was Armando. He was wearing nothing but pants with his boxers slightly showing. You could see water slightly dripping down his neck from his hair. He had just gotten out of the shower.

“Fuck.”, you whispered, running back towards your bed and then slowly walking back towards the door.

“Jojo, baby..I’m coming. Just hold on.”, you continued, softening your tone. You stood there and waited a couple seconds and then opened the door, making sure that you had your head turned towards the balcony to act shocked to see Armando.

“Jojo, I have the balcony curtains open, so that everyone can see us..”, you flirted, opening the door and then turning to see Armando leaning against the door frame with one arm up to support his weight.

“Oh…you’re not Jojo.”, you sighed, disappointedly, walking back towards your bed. You were playing with Armando and he knew that you were. You could hear the door shutting and then steps creeping up behind you. Before you knew it, Armando aggressively turned you around and pulled you closer to him.

He was towering over you. His eyes were filled with fire, passion, and lust. You didn’t know where he was, but you knew that he wasn’t in the room with you at the moment. You watched as he leaned his head down and gave you a slight peck on the lips. A peck of permission, trying to see if you would allow him to continue on with what he wanted to do to you. So you answered, grabbing his face and kissing him as passionately as you could. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You could feel his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth, so you explored his. Allowing the both of you to fight for dominance, to see who would lead.

He won… you could feel his hands start to rub on your ass, when he patted it. Signaling you to jump, so you did.

ARMANDO POV

I wanted to be inside of her, to hear her moan, cry and to be all over me. I needed her. Bad. So while we made out, I gently patted her round, firm big ass that she carries and signaled for her to jump. And when she jumped, we never allowed our kiss to break contact. Keeping it close and allowing it to get as juicy as it could. I held her butt underneath my hands and carried her to her bed. Throwing her onto the clean bed that was now about to become dirty. I watched as she kept her towel wrapped around her body and scooted towards the end of the bed.

She turned her focus towards the door and looked back at me.

“What if someone walks in?”, she asked, leaning back, allowing her forearms to support her body weight.

“Then we put on a show.”, I smirked, slowly unzipping my pants, wanting to see her become impatient.

Once I finished unzipping and unbuttoning my pants, I pulled them down along with my boxers, allowing my member to be exposed. I watched as her face went from being extremely passionate to now being slightly worried.

“Damn…Armando.”, she whispered, looking up at me.

“Big shoes..”, I smirked, climbing on top of her.

“I don’t know..I don’t think I can—”

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. We can start off slow and build up to it. You’re in control.”, I reassured, now hovering over her as she laid down. She shook her head, yes, and then allowed me to start kissing her again. I was ready.

Y/N POV

You were terrified. Never having someone that big inside of you before. He had everything, the length and the width. You felt blessed knowing that it was now yours however scared because it had been a minute since you’ve last had sex. Although, you knew that you were ready. You wanted him inside of you, to hear him beg, moan and whimper. To see him damn near cry. You wanted it all, so you started kissing him and biting him on his neck.

You could feel your towel that was once covering your body now exposing it so you grabbed it, trying to wrap it over you again.

“You’re beautiful, I don’t care about your scars, stretch marks or rolls y/n. They’re normal.”, he whispered, looking you in the eyes.

You were hesitant, it has been a minute since you’ve been fully naked in front of a man so you weren’t sure how he would react. However, you trusted that Armando meant what he said, so you removed your towel. You could feel his hands opening up your legs while massaging the inside of your thighs. You were getting hot and could slowly feel your clit start to throb.

You closed your eyes and allowed Armando to explore your body, you were now experiencing your thoughts about Armando coming to life but you also wanted to savor the feeling. You could feel his fingers run across your womanhood, making your hips twitch forward towards him. You wanted more of it and he caught on. So he started gently and slowly rubbing your clit in a circular emotion while leaving kisses across your chest.

“Fuck Armando…”, you moaned, your eyes were now open and you were looking up at him.

“That feels good..doesn’t it.”, he smirked, shifting his body closer towards you. He was now pressing down on it and was picking up in speed. You could feel your heart racing and ringing in your ears, you felt yourself about to cum when he suddenly stopped.

“Not yet….”, he whispered, stopping and getting on top of you. You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to exhale, it felt good and you knew there were more to come.

ARMANDO POV

I used one of my hands to allow her head to sit up on it. I wanted her head to have as much support as it needed so she wouldn’t get hurt.

“Open…your legs.”, I demanded, kissing her in between. I felt as she separated her legs and kept her feet on the bed. I made my way down to her breast, nibbling on them while leaving hickey’s across them. She was moaning and pushing her body towards me. She wanted more. I hovered back over her and stared into her eyes, I was worried myself. I want to leave her sore but I don’t want to cause her any pain either. I must’ve gotten so lost into my thoughts because that’s when I felt one of her hands gently caressing my cheek.

“I want you inside of me.”

GREENLIGHT ARMANDO, GREENLIGHT!!!

We kept eye-contact the whole time, as I grabbed my dick and rubbed it against her clit. Up…down…up…down, I dragged it, allowing her to get as wet as she could before putting it inside her. Once I felt it was time, I softly guided my member inside the entrance of y/n pussy and started coming in and out of her slowly.

“Ugh..fuck y/n, you feel so good.”, I moaned, putting my head in the crook of her neck. I kept going, pumping in and out….in and out. Slowing down and then slightly picking up speed. Allowing her body to adjust to me being inside of her.

“Shit Armando, faster…”, she whimpered, grabbing my back. So I listened, picking up in speed, while allowing our moans and grunts to create music in the room. I was several pumps in when we heard a knock on the door. I looked up to see y/n with her eyes rolled to the back of her head, she didn’t hear it, so I kept going and started kissing her neck. Allowing my dick to get as deep as possible inside of her. That’s when I heard another knock, this time she heard it.

“Who..who is….fuck.”, she whispered, now scratching my back. Her nails were sharp and slightly dug into my skin, however I was enjoying the pain.

I started slowing down, so that I could lift my body up to pull her underneath me some more. I grabbed her legs and hinted for her to wrap her legs around me and then started kissing the side of her neck. I was ready to go deeper.

“Baby..somebody is at the door for you.”, I teased kissing her on the side of her cheek, while picking up my pace. I wanted to hear her struggle to talk. So I started making my strokes longer and allowed my dick to drag out slow and then back in fast.

“Who…fuck, who is it?”, she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut.

“It’s me..JoJo, I brought you flowers.”, Jojo yelled from behind the door.

Perfect, I had a perfect time for her to let everyone know who she belonged to. That she was mine, I wanted to hear her say it. Loud and Proud.

“Are we together?”, I whispered into her ear, now going crazy inside of her. I could feel myself start to twitch while my heart jumped out of my chest. However, I wasn’t going to stop, not until she said it. Instead she kept whimpering and moaning, louder and louder each time I went inside her. So I turned her around and made her get on all fours.

“You’ll say it, before we leave here…”, I laughed, pushing her back down and lining my dick towards her entrance. I pushed myself inside of her and listened as our moans conjoined together. I loved this shit, everything about it. So I pulled away and then pushed back in, while holding on to her hips. Allowing me to be in control.

Y/N POV

You were seeing stars. You could feel him inside of you and it made you feel good. Everytime you thought he would slow down from hitting it from the back, he would pick up speed.

“Say it.”, he moaned, now slamming into your body. You were stubborn. You wanted to see how long you could go with hearing him beg about you being his. So you allowed your whimpers to be your response.

So he kept going, faster and faster but this time, you could feel his hand rubbing your clit. He was finding his rhythm and once he did, he mastered it. In and out, in and out while he rubbed on you.

“Y/n… are you mine?”he asked again, pulling your body up against his chest and now, slightly choking you.

“FUCK ARMANDO!!!”, you yelled, putting his head between the crook of your neck and allowing him to kiss your shoulders.

“You feel so good y/n..”, he whined, still massaging your clit while pumping inside of you.

You were slowly building up inside, you could feel it. The next stroke he does would be over for you, but you didn’t stop him.

“Shit…say it.”, he grunted, roughly grabbing your body and hugging you closer to him. You could feel him twitching inside of you. He was about to cum.

“I’m yours Armando, baby, I’m yours.”, you moaned, you could feel your body begin to shake but he didn’t stop.

“Good girl.”, he replied, still going until he released, which was soon after.

“Fuck y/n…te sientes tan bien, te sientes tan jodidamente bien….”, he repeated, massinging your breasts while leaving soft kisses across your back. You turned around to look at him, his eyes were closed and you looked down to see his dick still twitching.

“Come here…”, you whispered, getting up off the bed. You watched as Armando stared at you confusingly until you pointed towards the balcony.

“Seriously?”, he smiled, wiping the sweat off his forehead while getting out of the bed. You observed Armando’s body as he walked over to you. His broad shoulders stuck out to you the most, and the way his muscles would always make an appearance over the smallest thing…it turned you on.

“Sit down.”, you demanded pulling out the chair that was near the table. He sat down and opened his legs, watching you kneel down in front of him. His eyes were dark and he was watching your every move.

You grabbed his dick and allowed your tongue to meet it for the first time. Licking up the fluids from both his and yours body while slowly stroking it, up and down. You could feel him shift his hips so that he could be more comfortable in the chair. He was slowly moaning and had his head leaned backwards. He was relaxed so you licked the tip of it some more and started gradually sucking it. Allowing it to touch the different barriers of your mouth.

You could feel him slowly growing again back inside of you so you started sucking harder and then used your hands to gently twist. His moans were gradually getting louder and louder as you picked up speed. Bobbing your head up and down to allow him to get inside of your mouth some more. You took your focus off of his member and looked up to see him clenching the arms of his chairs, while tears streamed down his face. His eyes were closed, which means that he was deep in the moment, so you stopped. Which led to him opening his eyes and begging you to finish but you ignored him.

You climbed onto Armando while he helped you put your legs through the chair. Wrapping one of your arms around his neck while grabbing his dick to aim it under you. It took you a couple tries to find the entrance but once you did, you quickly slid down onto it which led to you and Armando moaning in unison.

“FUCK Y/N.”, he grunted, grabbing your ass to try to take control.

“Not this time.”, you smirked, slapping his hands, and putting them back on the arms of the chair. You put your hands on top of his so that you could be dominant this time. You wanted to see him beg and cry for you to stop.

So you started bouncing up and down slowly, while moving your hips forward and backwards so that the both of you can feel it. To feel the both of you inside of each other, for the both of you to become one.

You were teasing him and he knew it, so you started to ride him faster each time he whimpered. The way you held his hands down so that he couldn’t grab you felt like a power move on your end. However, for him, not so much. Though it felt good to him, he felt like he was being sexually tortured. Not being able to grab you felt like a crime to him but all he could do was moan.

“You look so good while whimpering Armando…”, you teased, picking up speed. You could feel him try to snatch his hands away but you continued to hold it down while you rode him.

“Ugh..i’m sorry..please..”, he whimpered, trying to throw his hips upward towards you.

“No baby, it’s my turn…you’ve been bad, baby…..”

“Ha,,,fuck…”, he tried to laughbut could only throw his head back.

You took that as an opportunity and started kissing his exposed neck, leaving hickey’s across it. You could hear him mumbling in Spanish which encouraged you to go faster. So you did.

“Fuck Armando!! You feel so good, cum for me.”, you yelled, now bouncing up and down uncontrollably. You watched as tears were streaming down his cheeks again, as he continued to moan.

You decided to let go of his hands and allowed him to wrap them around your waist. You were both now chest to chest while he had his head buried into you, allowing you to ride even faster and to cover his head with your hands. When you both finally released, allowing the both of you to be covered with each other juices. You stopped riding and Armando started pumping the rest of his energy out into you. His accent sounded heavier and he was speaking in his native language. You couldn’t help but to admire the way he looked while he held onto you and mumbled to himself.

There was silence between the two of you afterwards, allowing the sound of nighttime Miami to surround the both of you guys. You leaned your head down to kiss him on his forehead then tried to get up, when he pulled you back down.

“What Armando?”, you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Nothing..I just want you to sit here with me, that’s all.”, he smiled, looking at you and then leaning in for a kiss. You responded back and softly gave him a kiss on his lips.

“I am yours now, Armando, and I mean it. I hope you feel the same way too.”, you whispered, looking at him. You could feel yourself start to blush; you were done with games. You knew that you wanted to be with Armando, and you were hoping that he still felt the same.

“I do y/n…I do… I belong to you."

#armando x reader #jacob scipio #armando armas #bad boys armando #bad boys ride or die #bad boys ride or die armando #x reader #bad boys #armando aretas #smutty smut smut #armando smutt #armando aretas x reader

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memorycycle · 7 months

Text

me: your honor, permission to turn into 2 different people?

judge: permission granted

my evil half: your honor she did it

my other evil half: this wasnt the plan you fool!

judge: *shakily pointing a gun at us* i cant tell which is the real one..

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gh0stsp1d3r · 7 months

Note

rafe cameron as a baby daddy who doesnt allow u to talk to other ppl

stop i love this, I kinda changed it so reader only talks to people who he lets her (: so like absolutely no pouges

𝒟ℴ𝓃𝓉.

Masterlist

Warnings: dark!rafe, sorta controlling behavior, he’s not a good daddy, gun pointing at Sarah again sorry girlie, gun flashing that’s it rlly,

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe had little rules when it came to the new house. But there was two he always put emphasis on.

1. Don’t open the door for him, wait it out.

2. Don’t talk to people he doesn’t give you permission to talk to, or people he doesn’t like. No strangers, no pogues.

He walked around, pacing the living room while on the phone. He whispered so he didn’t wake the baby who you just got to fall asleep.

“That’s not what I fucking said!” He said, voice rising in volume until he looked back down the hallway and realized his mistake, the baby awoke with a loud cry.

You gave him a look, a look he knew by now. He quietly walked out and went onto the porch with a sigh.

“Sh. Sh…” you mumbled, picking her up and gently rocking her in your arms.

Today was going to be long.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe was out, he mumbled he’d be back and he was going with a friend. You believed him when you saw Topper coming out the car.

Finally, the baby had been sleeping again. You fed her and Rafe gave her a shower. It was night now, and you just switched on the tv, turning it down and curling up on the couch.

You ended up falling asleep, that was until a harsh and loud knock came from the door.

“Open the fuck up, Rafe!” She shouted, you furrowed an eyebrow. You knew that voice. Sarah Cameron, Rafes sister. He despised her.

You rubbed your eyes out of tiredness, the baby would wake if she keeps it up, you thought. And that was the last thing you wanted.

But if you opened the door and talked to the pogues, Rafe would be livid. But as soon as you heard her let out a small cry, you weren’t thinking and got up quickly.

“Hello?” You grumbled out, opening the door. her knocks stopped when she saw your face.

“Oh. Shit. I’m- I’m sorry. I forgot he had a-“

She was cut off by a cry, making you groan.

“He’s not here.”

“Where is he?” A blonde haired boy asked, lightly pushing Sarah.

“I don’t know. Can I please just go-“ You lied. You did know.

“We’re really sorry, but it’s really important. You have to understand-“

“I’m not telling a bunch of kids where my boyfriend is so you guys can go beat him up or something. Sorry. If you’ll excuse me, I have a baby to take care of.” You closed the door, leaving them dumbfounded.

“Does Rafe have a baby?” John B asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I didn’t know that.” Sarah mumbled.

“I’m more shocked Rafe has had a girlfriend this long.”

They stood there, waiting for him. You didn’t even notice them after you left.

They didn’t know however, that he had a little camera installed, where he was watching on his phone.

You didn’t think about it until you went back into the nursery to try and get her to sleep again.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath.

“I gotta go, man. I’ll see you later.” Rafe said to his friend suddenly, standing up and saying his goodbyes.

He practically raced towards his house, looking back on his phone to see them all talking and just waiting at his front door.

He got out the car and they all went towards him.

“Never fucking come here again.” He was seething with anger when they came up to him.

They all began to talk over each other to him, in anger.

“Shut up!” He shouted, hands moving towards his waistband. They all didn’t, and one of them went to go punch him but they just ended up on the floor.

“Get the fuck away from my house. Leave.” He flashed his gun now.

“We’re not fuckin’ leaving-“ his sister began to argue.

He pointed it at Sarah, one of the boys going in front of her.

“You didn’t tell me you had a baby.” She spoke from behind the boy.

“Leave. Or I will fucking kill every single one of you. Was all he said, putting the gun down and walking towards his home, ignoring them. His gun still in hand as he opened the door.

They walked away, defeated but with a new plan. He was dripping with anger when he entered the house.

“What did I tell you?” He asked you, before you could say anything.

“I know, I know, but I-“

“There was a reason I didn’t want them knowing you or her.” He motioned to the nursery room. He walked closer, gently grabbing your face and looking into your eyes, wiping the hair from your forehead.

“There’s a reason why you can’t talk to them.”

“I know. But they woke her up and I didn’t-“

“You talked to dirty fuckin’ pogues. They know you exist and they know she exists.” His hands were trembling, you noticed.

You slowly grabbed the gun from his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t want anything happening to my girls, that’s all.” His voice was shaky, his hands still on your face as he searched your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I know. I love you. We’ll be perfectly fine, okay?” You put your forehead on his, he nodded, his breathing calming down.

“I love you.”

#outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #my fics

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writerslittlelibrary · 1 year

Text

Were you expecting someone?

masterlist

summary: thinking it’s a day like any other, you simply busy yourself with some homework and your hobbies, until there’s suddenly a gun pointed at your head

pairing: Natasha x daughter reader, Yelena x niece reader, Melina & Alexei x granddaughter reader

warnings: a gun?

genre: fluff

words: 1265

a/n: I thought there should be way more content about the Widow family. I love to see more of the concept of Melina and Alexei with a grandchild

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

When you woke up this morning, you were not expecting the situation you were currently in. Because you were wearing your headphones, you had not heard anyone enter the house. Your mom told you she would be gone until late afternoon, and while you were busying yourself with some drawings, you had completely forgotten the time.

Not that it mattered, really. Usually, when your mom comes home she’d always let you know, whether she’d send you a text or simply come into your room and say hi.

This situation however, was slightly different. One moment you were peacefully sketching some ideas you were working on, and the next moment you could feel the cold metal of a gun pressed against your temple. You slowly looked up from your sketchbook, not making any sudden movements.

You thought the woman in the room was simply another Widow from the Red Room, sent to assassinate you. You’d been dealing with those ever since you escaped two years ago.

When you didn’t feel the woman relax her grip on the gun, nor feeling a bullet piercing your skull, you decided to handle the situation yourself. You turned around swiftly, grabbing the gun and pulling it towards yourself, managing to yank the woman forward and knee her in the gut. You pushed her to the side, holding the gun tightly as she let it go in surprise.

She made a move quickly, hitting you across the face. You replied by swiping her legs from under her, letting her fall to the ground as you ran out the room.

You made a run to the stairs, moving to get down as fast as possible. When you did, you saw two other people standing in the living room. It was a man and a younger woman. She couldn’t have been older than 25.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you made a move to run to the front door. You could hear the woman from upstairs making her way down as well. Once you reached the door however, it opened, revealing your mom standing in the doorway holding some groceries.

She smiled at you, then frowned when she saw blood on your face.

“We have to go,” you said quickly, grabbing her hand and trying to run away. She however, didn’t move. You turned around to see her stifling a laugh.

“Were you expecting someone?” you asked her, letting go of her hand and looking at her. “I’m sorry,” she just told you, letting a laugh escape.

She grabbed your arm and dragged you into the living room, setting her bags down before pushing you onto a chair, making a move to grab the first aid kit. “Natasha, Who is that?” you heard the woman from before ask in a strong Russian accent. “I should have warned you,” she said, sitting next to you and carefully cleaning up the blood from your face.

“Yeah, you really should have,” you told, wincing slightly when she pressed the alcohol cloth onto the wound.

“I’m not too pleased you injured her though,” Natasha told the woman. “She attacked first,” the woman replied. You frowned and looked at the woman. “You held a gun to my head!” you told her. The younger woman grinned, clearly finding the situation amusing.

“Y/N, meet my family, guys, meet my daughter,” Natasha said, putting a band-aid on your forehead before cleaning up the things she used, stashing the first aid kit back into the cupboard it came from.

“How?” the younger woman simply asked, sitting down on the other side of you. “Dreykov created her using my eggs after I was sterilized. I didn’t know about her until two years ago,” Natasha explained, grabbing you a glass of water to help with the headache she knew was going to form.

You thanked her for the water and looked at the other two people standing in the room. They hadn’t made a move to sit down yet.

“Y/N, meet Melina, Alexei and Yelena,” Natasha introduced, motioning to the person she meant when she said their name. “Yelena’s my sister-” “And now an aunt too,” Yelena interrupted, also having a heavy Russian accent. She seemed ecstatic by that fact. You smiled at her and simply drank some of your water. “Are you going to stand and glare or…” you said slowly, referring to Melina and Alexei.

Slowly they sat down. The moment they did, Alexei smiled. “Welcome to the family!” he said excitedly, motioning his hands up a little.

Melina now smiled too, getting up and moving towards the fridge. “We need to celebrate,” she simply said as she opened it and reached for a bottle of vodka. She opened some cupboards until she found the one holding the glasses, and grabbed some shot glasses.

She put them on the table and filled them. There were five of them, but you decided not too say anything. Natasha would never let you drink it anyway.

Melina put a glass in front of everyone, you included.

She lifted her glass, as if to make a little toast. “Welcome to the family,” she said as she drank the vodka. Yelena and Alexei did the same, while you just looked at Natasha and smiled awkwardly.

She returned your smile, grabbing her own shot of vodka and drinking it. You didn’t touch yours. “You are not drinking?” Melina asked, stating the obvious. You smiled at her and shook your head. “I’m 16,” you told her, and Melina frowned.

“So?”

“We’re in the United States… It's illegal here. Besides, it's like three pm…” you told her, glancing at the clock. “It is always good time for a drink,” Melina simply replied, pouring herself another glass. You smiled and grabbed your water, finishing the glass. Of course you drank vodka before. You were a Russian after all, but your mother didn’t need to know that.

After Yelena swiped your glass and drank it herself, you turned to your mother. “Can I go now?” you asked, wanting to get out of the awkward family get together.

Natasha smiled and nodded. You got up from your chair and made your way upstairs, immediately jumping onto your bed and grabbing your phone, wanting to tell Wanda everything that just happened.

You talked with Wanda on the phone for a while, explaining how Melina had you at gunpoint and about how bad you felt you threw her on the ground. Wanda laughed at certain things you told her, feeling as though it was a situation you could both laugh about, and you didn’t actually feel bad about something. You two talked for a few hours, simply enjoying hearing the other talk. Then Wanda had to go, saying her dinner she ordered had arrived.

A few minutes after hanging up the phone, you heard a knock on your door. When it opened Yelena walked inside.

“So this is your room huh?” Yelena said as she looked around your room, picking up some stuff and flipping through your sketchbook. “Cool,” she said, sitting down on your desk chair. “Natasha told me to come get you because the food is here.”

“Thanks,” you told her, rolling from the middle of the bed to the side, so you could plug your phone into its charger and get up.

“I think we’ll be good friends,” Yelena said, getting up herself and exiting your room, followed by you. You smiled. This definitely wasn’t how you expected meeting Natasha’s family, had you known about them, but you couldn’t deny you were excited to get to know them better.

#black widow #blackhill #marvel #mcu #natasha x reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #yelena x reader platonic #widow sisters #natasha romanoff #melina vostokoff #alexei shostakov #widow family #young avengers #avengers #natasha romanoff x reader platonic #natasha romanoff x daughter #natasha x daughter #natasha x daughter!reader

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auspicioustidings · 10 months

Note

Hello there I have another questionable idea 😁

So 141 confusing reader home for a safe house and breaking in and the sleep deprived nurse reader is just like 😐 and patches them up cos they are hurt and that’s the start of an very interesting relationship

Thank you for everything you are doing and remember that you are amazing

Drink water not coffee

🎃anon

Pumpkin! Ohh so this is similar vibes to this which I never wrote because sometimes I love a concept but am rubbish with execution :')

I have, however, tried my best to give you a little bit of your ask <3

Hippocratic Oath

Words: 550

Nah, for real if someone was breaking in you didn't care but they could at least be fucking quiet about it so you could go back to sleep. You had not slept in an actual bed in fucking days, only catching what could barely be described as a nap in the cots at the hospital between emergencies.

“Find a first aid kit, we need to get him stable!”

Oh come on. The people robbing you were injured? Stupid fucking hippocratic oath. Technically it said nothing about having to help people who had broken into your house, it just said you couldn't harm them. So if you laid here and ignored it then Apollo couldn't say shit.

…God fucking damnit. You dragged yourself out of bed, honestly too tired to react to the gun pointed at you with anything but a withering look, and went to pull the first aid supplies from their place.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“This is my house skull mask, who the fuck are you?”

There was a man with a mohawk bleeding all over your couch. You grumbled about that a little but dutifully knelt by him and started to cut the clothes around the problem area so you could clean it out and stitch him up. A heavy tactical vest was on the floor, leaving him in just a t-shirt. The other young man was pushing a wad of bandages to stem the bleeding. Good, he was doing a good job.

Kyle looked at Price who only furrowed his eyebrows and nodded, giving him permission to follow your instructions. So that's what he did.

“We get a bonnie medic with safehouses these days Captain? Cannae say I'm complaining.”

“Shush or you'll wind up biting your tongue off when I do the stitches” you said, prepping the needle and thread.

You looked quickly around his get up, seeing he was wearing jeans with a belt and undoing it.

“I've definitely seen a movie like this” the skull mask man said which you elected to ignore.

“Tell me more LT.”

You shoved the belt in the man's mouth and he took it between his teeth immediately. Not his first rodeo then. Made sense, they were probably soldiers. He was a model patient as you stitched him up, not squirming at all.

Your focus overrode your exhaustion for long enough to give each of the others a once over, making sure there wasn't anything else serious you needed to treat. By the time you got to the last man, the one your patient had called Captain, you were completely dead on your feet and your eyes were starting to sting.

“Thanks luv, c'mere.”

Being scooped up by some military man who had broken into your house really should have caused some sort of fight or flight response, but you had nothing else left to give. You were asleep before he even made it to the bedroom, putting you right back under the blankets.

–

Your alarm never went off and you frantically called in to work to let them know you'd be there as soon as possible only to be told in no uncertain terms you were on leave for at least the next week.

It was with some shock that you emerged from your room to find that dream wasn't as much of a dream as you thought.

“Let's have a little chat about the next week hm luv?”

Ah fuck.

#mhairianswers #mhairiwrites #cod #tf 141 x reader

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etherealily · 4 months

Text

🄱🄻🄴🅂🅂🄴🄳 // 🇳🇦🇹🇪 🇯🇦🇨🇴🇧🇸.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW, but discretion advised. 🍃.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Tiny glimpse into his mind because why not?

Desc. : "His hand, so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It's not like Nate even knew you.

You just so happened to be the secret to his success, and maybe, perhaps his new obsession.

No biggie.

I mean, whole of the first week of spring break, he didn't text you, you didn't text him, and it was all great and normal.

Pissed him off to no end, because how the hell did you recover so quickly from having a fucking gun in your throat? But, hey, whatever. Maybe you were just that goddamn weird.

The second - and last - week of spring break was when shit got intense.

Because he thought about you.

He realized he hadn't even fucking seen you around town the entirety of it, and that might have freaked him out, just a little.

He worried, you see? Yes, only about his games, and his college apps, but now, all of them had been tied to you, with a pretty little bow around them.

So obviously, now he worried about you.

So, obviously, he needed to find out just where the hell your lucky ass had gone.

He narrowed it down to two options. Both perfectly reasonable, of course.

One, you just had tons of work and stayed indoors.

Two, you had been kidnapped and murdered by the opposing teams because they'd found out about your miracle-working.

See? Perfectly reasonable.

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It was a happy surprise to learn that you were basically closer to his house than you'd ever been before, after you'd taken up a job at the local supermarket.

Well, happy for him.

For you, it was more of a you-were-seriously-contemplating-suicide surprise.

"You listen to Elvis Presley?", he asked, dropping his purchase down on the counter. Your eyes never moved to it, and stayed on his.

That was one thing he noticed about you.

You were always observing, as if he were a rabid animal that would strike at any moment. As if he would reveal his sinister intentions to you within enough time for you to react.

"What?"

He nodded at the speakers on the wall around the establishment. "Those connected to your Spotify?"

You didn't want to answer unless you knew whether he was about to compliment or mock you.

"Sir, I think you should leave."

God fucking damn it. Why had he never thought about the fact that you wouldn't - (and couldn't)- call him a motherfucker at your workplace? His joy knew no bounds.

"That's so hot. Say it again."

You'd 100% expected that. It was clear on your face.

"There's other people behind you with more items to check out."

He swiveled his head around for a moment.

Old lady. Sometimes he wished he wasn't raised right.

He sighed, nodding. "I'm next up, though.", he warned sternly, pointing at you as he gestured for her to pass him by.

The old lady patted him on the shoulder and smiled, moving ahead with her purchase of an unholy amount of bread and cheese.

And what's worse?

She had coupons.

Way too many for Nate to stand smiling like a good boy behind her as she dug into her purse and fished out probably decades worth of them.

"Yes, dear, so just run all these."

"Uh, ma'am, I wish I could, but most of these are expired."

Thank god.

"Oh, well, you said most. Let's just sort through them and find the ones that aren't expired."

Would it be homicide to kill her? She didn't really have too long to live, anyway. He couldn't say he hadn't thought about it.

"Uh, okay, yeah, sure."

"This'll just take a minute, sweetie.", she whispered to Nate, pinching his cheek as if that would make time go by faster.

"How about I pay for you, ma'am? If that's alright?"

If he'd been allowed access to your mind, you'd never live it down, because you almost thanked him right then and there.

"Oh, there's no need for that, dear, I can-"

"No, please, I insist. It would be my pleasure."

"What a sweet boy."

Both her and Nate decided to ignore the derisive snort that came out of you as you swiped his card.

"Here you go, ma'am.", you smiled, placing the copious amounts of cheese into the bag, then stuffing the bread in, too. "Anything else?"

"Oh, no, that's it for me. God bless you, dear. Both of you."

Watching her walk out, he began to genuinely wonder if this absurd purchase was all part of some scheme some criminal had put up to steal without your knowledge.

"You hear that? We're blessed, you and me."

"Do you actually have anything to buy?"

"Of course I do. I'm not a creepy stalker.", he hissed, slamming his palm down in front of you. Slowly, he lifted it to reveal a stack of eleven condoms.

Oh, yeah, you were blessed with this fuckass' presence.

You sucked your teeth as your gaze traipsed from the condoms up to his eyes. One of them winked.

"Is that all?"

"Oh, come on, you're not even curious why I have them?"

"Probably for the dozens of bitches you're getting.", you scoffed, ringing it up. "$15.99."

"For eleven individual condoms?!"

You shrugged. "Inflation."

"Oh, they better inflate for the amount of money I'm spending."

He rolled his eyes, mumbling to himself as he pulled out the money from his wallet, instead of his card. "Fucking old lady with her bread and cheese."

"You maxed your card?"

"Yeah. Why do people buy so much shit they're barely ever going to use?"

"Like you with your condoms?"

Ah. Nate could've absolutely lost his shit laughing right there- you did care.

"I'm going to use it all. Trust me."

How many times was he going to use the phrase 'trust me' on you until he realized the meaning had eroded away into nothingness between you two? Probably a dozen more.

"Sure. Thanks for shopping with us. Have a great day."

He pouted, stuffing the packets into his pocket as he raised a brow. "You don't sound like you mean it."

"Nate-"

"And why are you even working here, anyway? Oh, shit, is it 'cause I cost you your internship with your perv boss?"

If he felt bad, the grin on his face wasn't really screaming guilt.

"No, fuckass, this is my friend's store, he just wanted someone to help him out for a couple hours."

"Whoa, wait, what happened to Sir? I liked that better."

That was a lie. He fucking loved it.

"Please, Nate. Stop."

"One condition."

There it was. It no longer seemed like he saw you as anything more than a boredom buster. Sudoku, or a crossword, basically. That was you to him.

"Answer one question, truthfully, and I'll leave this... otherwise empty store right after."

"I'm listening."

God, that's all he fucking wanted to hear, and it was oddly exciting. He could literally say anything, and you wouldn't block him out.

"What would you do if I told you that I have a body in my car right now?"

"What?"

"A body. A dead body. It's in my trunk. Right now. What would you say? What's your next move?"

It's like he expected you not to notice the fact that he was tracing shapes on your arm as he spoke.

"Cops."

At this point, even if he wasn't bluffing, you'd still have reacted so nonchalantly. Because it was all in all tiring to continue to play whatever twisted game he was playing.

"They're not an option. It's either silence or help me. Would you help me hide it?"

"Nate, did you kill someone?"

"No."

"Then why even ask?!"

"It's a hypothetical."

"No, probably not."

He tsked, looking away for a moment. "Wrong answer."

"Well, it's my answer."

He brought his fingers up to your face, and your slight flinch meant absolutely nothing to him. Imaginary hearts now plagued your skin. "Change it."

"My answer? No."

"Please."

"Nate, did you kill someone?", you asked once more, praying for an actual answer this time, be it in the negative or the positive.

He smirked.

"Thanks for the condoms.", he whispered, grinning as he gave your cheek a light pat - that was dangerously bordering on a slap.

Would your trunk be big enough to fit his body? You thought about it the rest of the day.

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

His fingers rapped on his dashboard as he watched his phone, set down on speaker on the dashboard, too. Pick up, pick up, pick up.

"Hello?"

Yes. He'd never been this happy to hear someone's voice, and it kinda freaked him out. Okay, whatever. Not important.

"Y/N."

"Who is this?"

"The guy you broke all the rules with before spring break? Made out with on the bleachers?"

"You need to be more specific."

"You better be kidding."

"Of course I am." He had never felt more relieved to hear your stupid ass laugh. "What do you want? I'm not helping you hide a body."

He debated just asking you where you'd been all this time, why you hadn't shown up to a single party or hangout, but he decided he'd just outright ask the real question he needed answered.

"Which one's your window?"

A pause. "What?"

"The one with red or yellow curtains?"

"Nate."

"Red or yellow, babe?"

"Red." Good. You'd gotten so used to him that you didn't waste time pointing out the obvious by asking 'are you outside my house?!'.

"You sure it's not yellow?"

"That's my parents' room."

"Yellow looks more tempting.", he teased, as he shut the car door.

"I'm not messing around."

"Neither am I. Yellow it is."

"Nate!"

This was far too precious to him. You were actually worried. How cute.

The fact that he had to climb up wasn't really making him jump in joy, but he figured you'd enjoy that little touch of vintage chivalry.

Like fucking Rapunzel.

He tapped on your window once.

No answer. Don't fucking play around right now.

He knocked once more.

He was met with your extremely delightful glare as you slid your window up, watching him closely.

"Hey."

"Dude, you-"

"Shh, shh, shh. Let me in.", he mumbled, crouching to cram himself through, his hand still resting on the top of the pane.

"You're insane."

Immediately grabbing your face after he steadied himself, he hissed through gritted teeth, "Where the hell have you been?"

"What?"

"I didn't see you at all before today!"

"Yeah, we got a lot of work to do over spring break."

"This is why you don't take psychology, because you get stupid amounts of homework even during the holidays.", he muttered, as if he'd warned you about this eons ago.

"What do you want?"

"Party. You. Me. Now. Get dressed."

He almost punched you when you started laughing.

"You actually do have a sense of humour, Nate, good for you."

"I'm not kidding. Come on."

"No way in hell."

"You know what? No need to get dressed. You look great. Just come on. Live a little."

"You've already taken me to 'live a little' before, and I ended up shitfaced with a gun in my throat at school at 12:30 am."

Good. So you hadn't gotten over that. He didn't care if he was being sadistic - he was glad.

He sighed, flopping down onto your bed and ignoring the second glare to come from you that night. "This is so typically a teenage girl's bedroom."

He had no clue what he was saying, at this point. But he knew he was itching for a reaction, a reason for you to hit him again, so he could grab you and shut you up. He craved the conflict.

"Surprising, considering that's what I am."

"I mean, the band posters? Really?", he huffed, pointing around at your room as if he was giving you a tour of it.

"Have you even listened to Queen? Presley? Any of the oldies?"

The match was found. Time to light it.

"So the shitty music in the store was connected to your playlist.", he chuckled, shaking his head. "No wonder that old lady was so nice to you. She thought you were one of her Bingo buddies."

It was just a question of how long you could stand him sitting on your bed, disrespecting your music taste.

"If you're only here to invite me to a party, I'm sorry, I'm not coming."

"How would your family like me hanging out here?", he mused, tilting his head. You know, the one you'd probably love to bash into the pavement given a chance? That head.

You were so fucking hot when you were pissed, it was unbelievable to him. He could sense it, the anger.

The smell of your rage made him want to riot.

"You can't keep blackmailing me into doing what you want."

"Alright, fine."

Your uncomfortable frown made him snicker. "What's that look?"

"This is usually the part where you self-harm and tell me I'm being a bitch for not bending to your will."

"Tonight's different."

"Why?"

Because I'm going to unwrap every fucking secret of yours.

He shrugged, the corners of his lips curling downwards. "I don't want to."

"So, you'll leave?"

"I didn't say that.", he trailed off, watching you sit down on the chair across from your bed. "Let's just chill."

"Nate, when have you and I ever chilled?"

He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes at you, before giving you a sly smirk. His fingers emerged from his pocket as he pulled out a packet of pre-rolleds. "Right now."

"You're kidding."

"C'mon. Don't be a pussy."

"They'll smell it."

He lolled his head over to the door. "No, they won't. You're two floors up." He shifted to one side, patting the space next to him. "Come on, Y/N, don't end your badass streak so quickly."

His eyes followed you as you sat down gingerly, rubbing your forehead like he was causing you a genuine migraine. That's funny, she hasn't even seen me high, yet, (and she won't).

"Why do I let you do this?"

"Million dollar question if I ever heard one.", he scoffed, fumbling around his person for a lighter. He found it, placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it, causing his next catastrophic words to come out a mumble. "But I'm glad you do."

He continued to watch your eyes change from frustration to mild fascination, to hesitation all in one second, as he puffed out through his teeth. "Fuck.", he groaned, handing it to you.

"I don't know about this."

"You think they'd like me?", he mused, looking at the door, and then back at you. "I'm known to make a good impression with parents."

"The no-blackmail thing didn't last long.", you huffed, taking it from him. Nate almost made out with you right then and there, the way your lips wrapped around it as if they were made only for him.

"Didn't want to break tradition.", he snorted as you coughed and sputtered, handing it back to him quickly.

"Gross."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

The last thing he'd expected from that evening was actually staying. He'd thought he'd get you stoned, you'd pass out, and he'd leave.

But here you were.

Next to him.

Freaking him the hell out.

He looked down at his watch. 2 AM. Fuck.

"I gotta go."

"You've been saying that for the past three hours."

Shut up. "Eh, well, it's not like my parents are worried."

"Why not?"

"They know I can handle myself."

"Right, because I'm such a threat."

"God, no. They'd love you." He shook his head subtly, grinning as you nudged his face playfully with your foot from across the bed. "You should come over, sometime."

"I'm not coming over, Nate."

The weed made sure you didn't push him away when he gently grabbed your leg. "Why not?"

"Because we're not friends. There's no reason for me to meet your parents."

"I just think it's right that you get to judge my room, too.", he muttered, lips on your ankle like it was his life support. "You know, justice or whatever."

"It's probably all monocoloured, plain, boring crap."

"Only one way to find out.", he teased.

He despised the silence that followed. High-you wasn't exactly chatty, it seemed.

"Tell me something about you."

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "Anything."

"This is my first time smoking weed."

"Not exactly a secret, sweetheart."

"You didn't ask for a secret."

"Now I am. Tell me a secret."

"I hate football."

You were more resilient than he thought, seeing as you'd smoked three cigarettes already, and the most you'd given him was your sports preferences.

But he'd take what he got.

"Because of me?"

"No, just generally."

"But you came to games.", he countered.

"Because of Maddy."

"You guys are close?"

You nodded, stirring slightly as you looked out your window. "Mhm."

"So she told you." Shit.

You tilted your head, sitting up as he gripped your calf, moving closer and placing kisses on your knee, too. "About?"

Well, if you didn't already know, no need to tell you.

"To come to the games."

"Oh. Yeah."

Nice save, Jacobs.

"I guess now I owe you a secret, huh?"

"I guess you do."

"You're not gonna like it.", he murmured, lazily tracing even more shapes on your knee, while his other hand had trailed up to your arm. "But I love your lips."

He smiled when the corners of your eyes crinkled up and you burst into a fit of giggles. "What?"

"It's true. They're perfect."

"God, I love weed."

You would, seeing as you smoked more of it than he did. Enough to kind of make him feel slightly guilty.

"It's not just the weed saying this.", he continued, shaking his head. "I'd fight wars for those lips. For you."

He shouldn't have liked the fading of your laugh so much, the slight trepidation brewing on your face, either, but for some reason, he did. "Nate, I'm not... I don't wanna-"

"Be fought for? Why not?"

He took the silence as a cue to brush his finger against your cupid's bow. "You don't think you deserve it?"

He watched your lips move under his finger as you shook your head, side to side. "Well, I do. And, guess what?"

"What?"

"I got another question for you."

Your frown was your response.

"Why didn't you push me away when I kissed you that night on the bleachers?" He knew the answer. Of course he did.

"I was drunk."

"Yeah, see, you weren't that drunk.", he taunted. But no, you were. He'd given you basically one and a half bottles. Just like tonight, taking barely ten puffs while you took thrice as much. You just hadn't noticed.

"I don't know, then."

"I just think that if you didn't push me away, it can't have been the terrible experience you made it out to be, in the car."

"What do you want to hear, Nate?"

"That you want to do it again. 'Cause you do. Don't you?"

"I don't."

"Yes, you do. If you could see your own eyes right now, you'd agree."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

He waited for a reaction, a scoff, an eye roll, anything, but you just looked back at him, and then down at the hand he was holding. Oh, it was the weed.

So he took matters into his own hands. No. He took you into his own hands, tracing the gap between your lips with his tongue before he pushed it in.

Your lips were war-worthy, just like before. But this time, something was different. This time, you kissed back.

There we go.

His hands ran over your back as though he were splaying a huge deck of cards across a table, and he came to the grave realization that maybe, just maybe, he was no longer doing this just for a reaction.

"Come here.", he murmured, making up for his lack of oxygen by trying to steal yours as he pulled you onto him. How Shane Crestin hadn't killed himself over the fact that he'd fumbled this bag, he'd never know. Loser.

His hands slipped under your shirt. Wrong move, seeing as you pulled away. "No."

Wasn't weed supposed to last longer?

"What?"

"I'm not... no."

"You seemed into it, like a moment ago. Face it : you want this. No amount of bullshit self-respect or whatever you wanna call it, is going to change that.", he responded, coolly, as he took a drag from the blunt, his lips immediately feeling the lack of yours.

"You're just trying to get back at Maddy."

God, he wished that were true. Would make much more sense.

He sighed, his forehead on yours. "I'm not, but you're not going to believe me.", he mumbled, watching you get off him and move back to the other side of the bed.

Oceans away. Too fucking far.

"I'm sorry." There was something he hadn't said in a while. "For, like, everything."

"Why am I so fucking important to you? If I just showed up to every game for you, would you leave me the fuck alone? No, you wouldn't, because you sought me out during spring break! Am I just an easy target?"

No. "I don't... I don't fucking know, okay? You just are."

"Is it 'cause you hate me?", you questioned, so quietly that he had to debate whether to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness or actually kill himself in guilt for eliciting it.

"What?"

"Do you hate me?"

"For what?" He had no fucking clue what this could be about. Every single thing he'd done so far indicated the opposite. But he didn't want to let himself go there.

"Being your good luck charm."

Oh. He had to think about that one. "No. It would be weird if it was someone else."

"I just mean... it must be frustrating, when you need someone, and they might not always be there."

"But you will, right? Be there?"

"You scare me, Nate."

He scoffed, slightly, rolling his eyes. "You're unbelievable. Why? Gimme one reason - a real one - why you're scared of me."

"You're violent."

Okay, he was hoping you'd give an invalid one.

"I like beating people up.", he shrugged. "But never for no reason."

"Not exactly a secret, sweetheart. And anyway, it's not only the beating up that you like."

"Hm?"

"You like getting beat up, too."

Remind him never to give you weed again.

"Why would I-"

"On some level, you feel like you deserve it.", you replied, shrugging as you took a long puff of the miracle weed that apparently made you unreasonably perceptive.

Okay, confirmed, not even the word weed would be mentioned around you anymore.

"You think I deserve it?"

"Mostly, yeah. But not... all the time."

"How do you know so much?", he asked, watching your fingers get lost in your hair. He couldn't afford eye contact.

"Psychology."

"See? You shouldn't have taken it. It's creepy."

You sighed, smiling as you looked up at the ceiling. "Sorry."

He did not expect you to back down, that was for sure.

"It's fine. Never giving you weed again, though."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It actually took until the very last day of spring break for him to catch up with you again. Not like he was pissed that you pushed him away, or anything. Or that he was confused about the entire interaction in the bedroom of someone who, until three weeks ago, he wouldn't have been caught dead talking to. He was just busy. Sure. Let's go with that.

"Hey."

"Not now, Nate."

"What is your problem?" Wait, no. That kinda talk was why you were pissed at him. "Look, we should start over."

God, he sounded like a cunt. This was definitely something that pathetic Shane Crestin would say. Ew.

"Okay. Can you start by going over there?", you asked, restocking the shelves with whatever bullshit condiment you had to.

"I'm an ass. I'm a jerk, I'm- I'm a dick."

You were silent for a moment, before you added: "A small one, too."

He sighed, beaming with relief. "A small one, too.", he agreed, nodding. "I'm just here to ask you over to dinner. My house. I'll even cook."

Dude, if you didn't agree, he'd actually fucking kill you.

"No way you cook."

"Only one way to find out."

He saw the falling apart. The gradual breaking down. The glacier was melting. "I'll listen to Queen or whatever, with you."

The quiet was taunting him, but you came to his rescue. "No steak."

"No steak."

Yes. Fucking yes.

283 notes · View notes

madreemeritus · 30 days

Text

Angel Dust love/appreciation post

With all the horrendous negativity sorrounding Angel Dust these days, I decided to make a post dedicated to love and appreciate him. It's 2024 and we still need to defend victims. It's like we moved backwards, specially considering that most individuals that hate Angel for... some reason? Call themselfs progressists. Lmao. What a sick joke. But let's foccus on what's good: Angel.

• Angel was willing to have sex with Alastor only to help Charlie. He doesnt like Alastor, he thinks Al is creepy and untrustworthy, and if he filmed himself having sex with Al, he would piss off Valentino (doing work "without his permission" to help someone Val heavily dislikes, after all, Charlie is helping him). So Angel was putting himself in danger and willing to fuck the stinky deer bastard just to help Charlie. HE LOVES HER SO MUCH, I CANT.

• Angel is so protective. He is so brave, he tried everything he could to keep Charlie away from Val, even yelling at her because her safety is more important for him. He grabbed Niffty like a baby to protect her from the loansharkers that were chasing Mimzy, he took the knife out of Niffty's hand, he stood up against Val to defend Niffty, and, unlike Charlie, she wasnt very close to him. But he just cares so much about his friends. It's so beautiful.

• The whole scene when Angel tells Val to fuck off. Just this. It's so fucking satisfying to see Angel being so strong and brave. Of course he will need help eventually, no one can be strong forever, but still. I'm so proud of him.

• Angel rejects Cherri's offer (drug) without shaming her or considering her less of a friend. He still loves her, supports her and is always there for her no matter what ❤️

• He didnt only stayed in the Hotel even after knowing Adam would target them first, he was also so invested in fighting back and protecting the Hotel. What a good boy 🥹

• When Vaggie throw him along with Pentious, he didnt ran away nor left Pentious to die alone (considering how both him and Vaggie were not trusting him), he fought back, protected Pentious and supported him after they were safe. And keep in mind that Pentious was both working for the Vees AND slutshamed Angel. But Angel didnt hold grudge (honestly he's better than me, my petty ass would be 100% pettier)

• The simple fact that Angel opened up to Husk was an act of strenght. This was so hard for him. The facade "helped" him to stay "untouched" and "safe" from humiliation, but it only made him self destruct. Letting go of that facade and ADMITING that he needs help is so, so hard. But he did it. Angel I love you

• The way he was so heartbroken by Pentious's death 🥺💔 "you did good, buddy" HEEELLPPP

• His protectiveness is beyond his friends, he saved the little egg boy in the cuntiest way possible, he's so fucking kind and brave, HE SLAYED.... (literally)

• As some people love to point Angel's past in the mafia (I mean, their ASSUMPTIONS on what Angel's mafia past was lol) to prove that "he is such a terrible person", I'd love to point out how he's terrified and disgusted by cruelty (Alastor's, Val's, Adam's) and only uses to violence when he needs to defend himself. From the men that wanted to drug and assault him in EP4, defending their territorry from Pentious in the pilot, defending the Hotel from literally every danger, from the mob that wanted to kill him in that very old pre-pilot comic. In conclusion, he is not a cruel person.

• And still speaking of that topic: he can handle himself. And that's fantastic. Every single time he used a gun, he ate 💅

• CHARLIE GRABBED HIS HAND IN THE FINALE 😭😭😭 it's so beautiful I love theeeemmm

• And of course, he stopped acting inapropriately towards Husk because he understood what he was doing is wrong. His haters are unable to see how much Angel improves himself, but it's not easy to let go of a problematic behaviour when called out. Angel I love you so much

• The way he was chasing Fat Nuggets when the Hotel was destroyed 🥺🥺🥺 such a wonderful pet dad ❤️

• There are different interpretations for Angel's reaction when Husk tells him "I guess you have changed", but I just love how he doesnt take pride or talks about himself, because that was not his priority. He wanted to foccus on living, helping and supporting his friends, spending his time wisely with people he cared about. I love you Angel

• Angel is unapologetically feminine, sensual, free and queer. This is awesome. He would be the best freak at Pride Parades. Be like Angel, be unapologetically yourself, live freely.

Now just look at cute pictures of this patootie

He's so pretty. I love him. Thanks for reading. Live laugh love Angel Dust

#angel dust #hazbin hotel #we shall never tolerate angie slander #huskerdust #husk you're so lucky #take good care of this boy #please #vivziepop #tw: abuse #tw: valentino

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ghostofhyuck · 5 months

Text

Gang AU Series 1

Bodyguard! Mark Lee x Mafia’s daughter! Reader

Summary: “I’ll be happy to die, if it means protecting you.”

cw: violence and mentions of death.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“You know, it’s a bad idea —-”

“Mark please!” you let out a deep sigh. “Stop being an overthinker! You’re making me nervous.”

“See! Even you're nervous about it, that means there’s something wrong with it!”

“I’m nervous because I might fuck up my speech if you don’t stop talking!” you shouted, proceeding to go to your dressing room and slamming the door against your bodyguard.

You felt peace now that you’re not in the same room as with Mark. You went to the drawer full of jewelries, pulling the first slide as your mother’s collections of pearls went on full display. You only smiled bitterly as you recall how your mother is so obsessed with pearls. You remember when you’re just a kid, you watch your mother dress up and wear her sets. Now, it’ll be you who’s wearing it.

You felt your heart tightening. It’s been a year since your parents died. A year since they left you and your older brother Johnny to take over their empire. An underground black market that sells illegal products and trades with guns.

It’s been a year and yet you still couldn’t comprehend how they died. An ambush, during a mayor’s dinner party. There weren't any other casualties aside from them. As if they’re the targets. After all, after their death, a lot of people attempted to take over the empire. Luckily, your brother is already accustomed to managing the market. Your brother was a powerful man, that’s why they didn’t stand a chance against him.

On the other hand, you tried your best to live a normal life even though you never had a normal family background. Coming from a family who’s been in a gang for years, there’s a huge part of your life that needs to be hidden. Not to mention, being the only daughter means they’re much more protective when it comes to you.

That’s where Mark comes in. He’s used to working under the gun trades but Johnny seems to be fond of him along with some of the other members, that’s why he made Mark your personal bodyguard.

“Yn, are you done? Because it’s almost 8 am, and we don’t wanna get stuck in the traffic,” Mark said behind closed doors.

“Yeah! Just a minute,” you shouted back. Wearing the last assembly of the set which is the pearl necklace. You went to the full-size mirror to check your fit. You only smiled because the pearls complimented your outfit. You went out and saw Mark on his phone. He glances at you and stands up from his seat.

“So,” he clears his throat. “You’re really going —-”

“Mark, shut the fuck up,” you cut him off. “I am going whether you like it or not, Johnny already gave me permission plus it’s a school event!”

Mark became quiet, he was about to say something but then thought that it’s a bad idea.

“What is it?” you asked with gritted teeth.

“I’m just trying to look after you,” Mark justified.

“Well it’s not helping, you’re suffocating me,” you answered one last time before storming out of the room, where the others are waiting.

“Damn, Mark-hyung got you already?” Donghyuck teased.

“Shut up Hyuck, is the car ready?” you asked.

“Of course it is princess,” the latter said.

You had Mark as your bodyguard four years ago. He’s three years older than you but your brother assures you that he’s a skilled fighter along with the others.

Having Mark as your bodyguard meant having another annoying older brother. He’s overprotective and an overthinker too. At some point Mark was definitely much worse than your brother who’s very chill with you as long as you come home alive.

It got worse when your parents died. Something shifted inside Mark that he became twice as overprotective and overthinker than before. It went to the point that you feel like you have no freedom at all, and it sickens you.

You tried numerous times to shove him away, even complaining about it to Johnny who only laughs at your complaints.

“Soon, you’ll understand why you need someone like Mark,” Johnny winks at you before leaving you alone in your room. You sat there, surprised because of your brother’s words. You tried to understand his side but as day passed by, Mark just didn’t do anything but to get into your nerves.

The car ride was tense, you notice how many times Mark glances at you in the rearview mirror while seated at the passenger seat. You tried your best to keep calm, practicing your speech numerous times. You are required to attend a school event because you’re the awarded student leader in your college department. It was an honor for you and you also wouldn’t miss the opportunity to hold a speech and talk for your fellow students.

The university was bustling with people, perhaps it was because of the annual school festival. There’s a lot of booths, activities, and events prepared for the whole week. Mark became more tense as they arrived inside the campus. You stepped down from the car, the remaining others getting out of the car.

You were about to leave when Mark grabbed your arms.

“Mark, we’re inside the school campus, it’s okay —-”

“It’s not okay yn, just this once please,” he said with a soft tone. “I can just accompany you alone if you want, there’s no need for the rest to come.”

You raised your eyebrow but you saw the worried look on his face and somehow, you couldn’t help but to soften. He’s right, and you feel like you’re being too harsh to him. You could only tug your arms away from him before proceeding to walk.

“Donghyuck can come too.”

“You heard her!” Donghyuck chuckles. “See you later losers.”

All eyes are on you as you walk towards the auditorium where the event will be held. It couldn’t be helped especially when your family’s background earned you quite a reputation too. And to think that you’re walking around the campus with two guards behind you just adds more to your image.

As you reached the auditorium, you were welcomed by the event organizer who’s a friend of yours. You only smiled as she ushered you towards the backstage but you remembered the two.

“You two just stay here, get a seat maybe, the talk will start in a few minutes. I just need to freshen up,” you told them. Mark only nods while Donghyuck gives you a thumbs up and “Good luck!”

As Mark watched you walk away, he couldn’t help but to let out a sigh. Donghyuck glances at the older.

“Stop worrying too much,” Donghyuck chuckles, playfully slapping Mark’s arms.

“I don’t know man,” Mark replies. “I just feel like something is off.”

The program started a few minutes later. Mark and Donghyuck stood there and watched you enter the stage with a bright smile on your face. Their eyes are locked on yours as you went to the podium and started delivering your speech.

Mark still couldn’t feel at ease as you delivered your speech. Everything feels off and he wanted to to trust his guts despite what you and Donghyuck said. He glances at Donghyuck who’s only smiling proudly, watching you deliver your speech in front of your fellow students. As Mark glances at his right, his eyes widen.

There were two men talking to each other. They were wearing caps and shades, trying to hide their identity. He nudges Donghyuck who only ignores him. As the older nudged Donghyuck harder that’s when the younger complained.

“Hyung what the fuck —-” Donghyuck wasn’t able to finish his words when he heard gunshots.

“Fuck, get yn!” Mark shouts, as the sound of another gunshot was heard.

You didn’t know what happened, all you knew was the first gunshot was heard and the next thing you knew, you felt something painful scraping against your arms. You fell down out of shock, and the continuous firing can be heard. You watched as the students panicked, trying to find their way to exit the auditorium.

You were helpless as you tried to stand up and escape when someone grabbed your arms. You almost screamed when you were welcomed by a familiar face.

“Yn it’s me!” Donghyuck shouted.

“Where’s Mark!?” you asked.

“Handling the guys, we need to leave —-”

“ — wait, what about Mark!?”

“He can handle himself, don’t worry,” Donghyuck said one last time before dragging you and escaping your way out of the auditorium.

You watched as the school ground turned into chaos. You couldn’t believe that what’s supposed to be a great day turned into a nightmare not only to yours, but also to innocent students. You wanted to help them but Donghyuck’s strong arms dragged you away from the chaos.

“Hyuck!” You saw Jeno approaching along with Jaemin.

“Help Mark-hyung there! We need yn safe,” Donghyuck orders.

“Renjun’s already had the car started!” Jeno shouted before going inside the auditorium.

You couldn’t help but to cry as you entered the car, Renjun immediately drove away from the campus as soon as the doors closed. Donghyuck could only pat your shoulder lightly, trying to assure you that everything’s going to be alright.

“It’s my fault Hyuck, I should’ve listened to Mark,” you said between your sobs.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” the older one said. “Also stop worrying about Mark-hyung, he can handle it. He wasn’t hired by Johnny-hyung if he was weak.”

“This is bullshit, who the fuck would do it at a school event!?” Renjun muttered angrily as he drove.

“Hyung! Focus on the road!” Jisung shouted.

“It’s obvious that it was a perfect timing for them, especially since it’s yn’s first appearance after Mr. and Mrs. yln died,” Chenle explained. “But they probably hired the wrong people, look, they barely shot you.”

That’s when you remember that you grazed your arms. Your sleeve was stained with blood but it wasn’t that deep. You only wince because of the pain, while Donghyuck covers it with his handkerchief.

“You should rest for now yn, we’ll just tell you when we arrived,” Donghyuck said.

And you couldn’t even protest. That’s when you slowly felt exhaustion get into you. A few minutes later, you doze off to sleep.

You don’t know that it was already night when you woke up. As you sat up from your bed, you couldn’t help but to groan in pain due to the sudden movement. You look around and notice that you’re in your room, and as you look at your clothes — someone changed it into a comfortable tee and cotton shorts. Your arm had a bandage wrapped around the graze, that it’s most likely your bodyguards’ doing.

You noticed that the pearl set that you were wearing is resting idly on your side table along with your bag and phone. You grabbed your phone and saw that it was almost eight in the evening. You were asleep the whole day.

That’s when you decided to get out of your bed and have yourself some food. You opened the door and was surprised to see that the hallway was empty. Usually, your bodyguards will be there waiting for you. Now that you notice it, the house was eerily quiet.

But as you enter the kitchen, you heard small noises and to your surprise —

“Mark!” you shouted.

As he turns around, he only gives you a smile, making yours drop.

“What happened to you!?” you asked as you saw his cuts and bruises, not to mention, the arm sling.

“It’s nothing, just a fracture bone —-”

“Are you stupid!? How can you say that it’s just nothing?” you shouted. You couldn’t help but to cry, seeing Mark all rugged-up because of the event earlier.

Mark approaches you and slowly places his other arm around you, pulling you closer as you continue to cry.

“Hey it’s okay, I’m okay see?” Mark said softly. “I just fell on the wrong side, that's why I broke some bone.”

“I can’t believe you let yourself be left behind, what if you died!?” you shouted.

“Well that’s my job, if it means dying to protect you, I’ll do it,” Mark explains, and because of his words, you punched him in his chest, making him exclaim in pain.

“Stop that,” you said.

“No seriously, I swore that to Johnny-hyung,” he said in a serious tone. “I’m going to protect you no matter what.”

You became quiet, your swollen eyes staring at his brown ones. Mark only gave you his sorry smile and you don’t know what to say. Perhaps this is what your brother is trying to say to you.

Mark’s loyalty cannot be compared to the others. He was dedicated to protecting you no matter what, even if it means sacrificing himself, he would willingly do it for you. You only fall into your own thoughts as your eyes wander around his wounds. You don’t know why but your hand intrusively reached for his cuts, you saw how Mark tried to cover up his pain.

“Can you promise me something?” you asked.

“Anything you want, I’ll do it,” he swore.

“Don’t die for me,” you stated. “If you want to protect me forever, you have to keep yourself safe too.”

Mark only chuckles, grabbing your hands as he kisses the palm of it. “If that’s what you want, then I swore to you that I’ll be safe.”

#nct imagine #nct dream fic #nct dream #nct fic #nct #nct x reader #nct dream imagine #nct mark #nct mark fic #nct dream mark #mark lee #mark lee imagines #mark lee fic #nct 127 mark

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wardenparker · 2 months

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Bones Full of Words, ch 3

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

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

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

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

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

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit.” He grunts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And wonder if you could ever see it, too.

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

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

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

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

______

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

BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo @missladym1981 @alexiamargot06

My Masterlist!

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

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tangents-within-tangents · 7 months

Text

The Bad Batch as Penguins of Madagascar Quotes

Bc I’ve seen a few posts making this magnificent comparison and both of these squads are near and dear to my heart and bc I need a distraction from the s3 premiere ahhh

Tech: *mission relevant info* Hunter: Tell me something I don’t know! Tech: Without mucus your stomach would digest itself Hunter: … Hunter: Tell me something else I don’t know…something less disturbing

Hunter: (to Caleb) It's okay, kid. We're not going to hurt you Crosshair: *cocks his gun* Not true, Hunter, they did authorize lethal force

Wrecker: *absolutely decking his bros* You pillow fight like a bunch of little girls!

Crosshair: What part of "zip it" eludes you?! The "zip" or the "it"?!

Echo: I don't mind saying it, that guy vexes me. *narrows eyes* He's a vexer.

Hunter: Boys, no training tonight. It's game night! Tech: Trivia! Let's play trivia! I dominate trivia! Omega: Oh! Can we play Simon Says this week? Tech: Yes, Simon says we play TRIVIA!!

Crosshair: I find reason tedious and boring. We'll use force.

Echo: I'm sorry, boys. I sometimes resort to sarcasm when facing the unknown Tech: No doubt

Hunter: Oh I’ve seen accident prone, try Wrecker and Crosshair! With a Chandrilan lantern! And SIX BOTTLES of rocket fuel!! Tech: Worst talent show ever

Hunter: There's no such thing as too paranoid, Omega. Remember that, and forget you ever heard it!

Tech: SCIENCE! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?!?

Omega: I have an idea! But I'm not sure how safe it is Wrecker: I like it already!

Crosshair: *while fighting* You cannot win, Hunter! I am fueled with a boiling hate! A raging fury! Hunter: And a babbling mouth! *slaps him*

Omega: No! I swore I’d never use my adorability as a weapon again, and I meant it!

Echo: Wrecker, cover Omega’s ears, I intend to use my angry words

Tech: This red line shows the frustration level of a really smart person forced to take orders from some dunder-brained boob. As you can see the frustration just keeps rising and rising and rising. I mean, why don't they put the smart guy in charge, huh? IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE! SOMETHING HAS GOT TO GIVE, PEOPLE! AM I THE ONLY ONE SEEING THIS?!

Wrecker and Omega: *run in making incomprehensible panicked noises* Hunter: Anyone catch that? Echo: *nonchalantly interprets it exactly* The Batch: … Echo: What? I’m fluent in panic

Tech: Cool cars go faster. That's a scientific fact.

Cody, in his one episode: I believe now I know why “volunteers” ends in “tears”

Hunter: No batcher gets left behind, that’s why! Wrecker: What about Crosshair? Hunter: Okay, one batcher gets left behind Omega: and Echo? Hunter: Maybe two batchers get left behind Tech: Um… Hunter: *groan* Comparatively few batchers get left behind, okay?!

Omega: I thought you agreed this was a dangerous weapon! Wrecker: Which is the best kind! What good is a safe weapon?! Tech: He has a point

Hunter: Avert your eyes, young Omega, you’ll never be able to unsee this! Tech, recording bc that’s his freaking hobby: Don’t worry about it I’ll burn you a dvd!

Crosshair: *standing outside the Marauder* Hunter! I have brought you a hand drawn greeting card! It says “Roses are red. Posies are green. Sorry about Bracca, I was too mean. Your pal, Crosshair” :) Hunter: *walks out and shreds the card*

Hunter: Get up here. That’s an order! Tech: *salutes* Permission to defy order? Hunter: Permission denied! Tech: Then I deny your denial (sorry)

Echo: *watching Hunter and Wrecker, captured and surrounded by stormtroopers* Well this hardly seems fair Echo: *jumps in a walker and defeats them easily* Told you it wasn't fair

*Phee and Tech kiss* Omega: *eyes being covered by Hunter* awww Wrecker: Finally!

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 4 months

Text

By Tayo Bero

This month, the Texas state parole board unanimously recommended the pardon and release of convicted killer and former US army sergeant Daniel Perry, along with the restoration of his firearm rights. Perry had been working as an Uber driver in July 2020 when he shot and killed Garrett Foster, a white man who was attending a Black Lives Matter protest with his Black fiancee. Perry was later indicted for murder, tried, convicted and sentenced to 25 years in prison by an Austin jury.

Almost a year from the date of his sentencing, Perry’s pardon was granted by Texas Governor Greg Abbott, and he now walks free. As terrifying as the initial incident was, this pardon sends a chilling message: that politically motivated killing is OK, and that politicians are more focused on pandering to political pressure than protecting people’s lives.

During Perry’s trial, it emerged that in the weeks before he killed Foster, he had shared white-supremacist memes and talked about how he “might have to kill a few people” who were demonstrating outside his house in 2020. He also compared the Black Lives Matter movement to “a zoo full of monkeys that are freaking out flinging their shit”. And days into nationwide protests sparked by George Floyd’s murder by a Minneapolis police officer, Perry sent a text message saying: “I might go to Dallas to shoot looters.”

Perry described shooting Foster as an act of self-defense. Yet according to trial testimony about the day Foster died, Perry had seen the predominantly Black group of protesters gathered across the street from him, ran a red light and drove his car right into the middle of the protest. When Foster – who was legally carrying a firearm but had not, according to some eyewitnesses, threatened Perry – approached Perry’s car, he shot him dead and sped away.

In rehashing this horrendous incident, the question on my mind is: how do you justify “pardoning” a person like this? Condemning Perry’s release isn’t about believing in carcerality or wanting to keep people in prisons, mind you; it’s about how we get to this point as a society, whom we grant permission to kill, and how we treat the people involved in a tragedy like this in its aftermath.

Abbott – who rarely issues pardons, and has generally only pardoned low-level, nonviolent offenders – had faced pressure from conservative media figures to grant Perry one. Rightwing pundits like former Fox News host Tucker Carlson and even Texas GOP chair Matt Rinaldi squeezed him publicly about Perry’s conviction. It doesn’t seem like Abbott needed much convincing, though, seeing as he directed the parole board to review Perry’s case just one day after he was convicted.

There’s also the question of how we got here. Foster’s death and his killer’s subsequent pardon are the direct result of a government that’s more beholden to wealthy gun lobbyists than concerned with commonsense legislation that literally saves lives. Foster’s death was, in part, the result of a tragic meeting of Texas’s notoriously loose stand-your-ground self-defense laws, which Perry’s supporters claim he was upholding when he shot Foster, and the state’s “open carry” laws, which Foster was legally exercising when he had his rifle slung over his shoulder during the protest.

Alan Bean, the executive director of the Texas-based civil rights advocacy group Friends of Justice, summed up the implications of Perry’s case succinctly.

“If one guy with a gun feels threatened by another guy with a gun, murder is permissible. If both men felt threatened, the resulting tragedy would technically be ruled a no-fault double-homicide,” he wrote after news of the pardon went public.

Even Texas police aren’t blind to the ways that open-carry laws are exceptionally dangerous and nonsensical. “We were completely opposed to ‘license to carry’ because anytime there’s more guns, there’s a problem,” Ray Hunt, executive director of the Houston police officers’ union, said back in 2021.

If there was any doubt that Abbott doesn’t care how problematic these laws are, even after what happened to Foster, consider that he used his pardon announcement to reaffirm that “Texas has one of the strongest ‘stand your ground’ laws of self-defense that cannot be nullified by a jury or a progressive district attorney”.

These are scary words to hear from your elected official after a tragedy that could have been avoided with better gun laws. Abbott continues to signal to gun-toting rightwingers that they can go around murdering people they don’t agree with, and that they will have the full force of the law to back them up.

Foster’s mother, Sheila, spoke to the New York Times after the pardon, and her words are haunting in their truth. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said over the phone. “It seems like this is some kind of a political circus and it’s costing me my life.”

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shakespeareanwannabe · 6 months

Text

As You Wish, Chapter 7

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Potential Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, panic attack, drinking, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to babies, swearing, references to the hospital

Top Gun, almost 12 years ago

When Payback was standing on the tarmac of the training field as they landed, Bob knew it was go time.

It had been odd enough flying without Bagman the past few days; the blond lieutenant opting to take a few days leave as his new wife approached and passed her due date, and Bob found himself almost missing the sarcastic comments shared over comms and the easy way that his new brother-in-law was able to push the other members of their team to their limits. It wasn’t always great for morale, but there was a reason they were the best team the Navy had to offer.

Bob hopped down from his seat behind Natasha and took off running towards Reuben, who he had handed his phone to before takeoff. The older pilot knew a thing or two about impending parenthood and had suggested holding onto the uncle-to-be’s phone, just in case any news broke about the delivery of the twins.

Twins. His sister was having twins. With Hangman. As much as Bob had fought her on her relationship with the cocky aviator, there was no denying how happy the couple had been over the course of the past year. Sure, they had moved fast (too fast, in Bob’s opinion), but that’s the way Hangman operated. His mind moved a million miles an hour in his cockpit, and he saw no reason to slow it down when he was on land.

“Text just came in about ten minutes ago,” Reuben called when Bob was in earshot. “She labored all day and all night, and the girls were born around 2 this morning. Mom and girls are doing fine.”

Bob felt his smile stretch so wide he was surprised his face didn’t break.

“But it’s almost 6 now,” Natasha griped, standing over his left shoulder. “What’s with the hold up?”

Reuben chuckled. “Would you want people all up in your face after over a day of labour and delivery, Phoenix? Or would you want some time to soak up all the lovin’ of those two little angels before you had to share them?”

“I’d want to soak up all the love, that’s the point.”

While Bob tended to agree with her, he knew that this was all part of his sister’s plan. She was a private person at heart and hated being the center of attention. She especially hated feeling like people were waiting on her. So, it made sense that she would’ve held off on announcing the birth of his nieces until she’d had time to adjust.

“Bob, you okay?” Reuben asked, realizing that the WSO hadn’t said a single word since landing. “You with me?”

Bob nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Thanks, Payback.” He reached out and took his phone back from the older member of their team.

He grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “You wish the new parents congratulations from me and Maryanne, alright? We’ll be by to visit when we’re allowed. But it sounds like you’ve got permission already, Bob.”

Bob glanced down at the message from Hangman, which did indeed invite him to the hospital to meet the newest members of his family.

“C’mon,” Natasha held up her car keys. “I’m driving.”

“You—”

“Probably wasn’t invited, was I?” his partner smirked. “But you’re shaking like a leaf, so I’m doing the team a favour and driving you. And, if I get to meet the babies before Javy and Rooster, that’s even better.”

London, England, 24 hours ago

Charlie sat at the high round kitchen table, poking at the cheese and crackers she had assembled for her midday meal as Auntie Nat raced around the kitchen, half a bagel stuffed in her mouth as she prepped her coffee.

When she’d woken up that morning, Uncle Bob had been halfway out the door for work. A schedule that consisted of bouncing from London to Frankfurt to Barcelona and, finally, home ensured that he would be home in time for Jeopardy and dinner but had left her with her surly aunt and her mom, who had been locked into Zoom meetings all morning in her office. Not that she was complaining. While the first few days had been a difficult adjustment, dealing with the time change and the customs of her new home, she absolutely adored her life in London. Her Uncle Bob was just as awkward and funny as she had been told, Auntie Nat was everything she had ever wanted in an aunt, and her mom? Her mom was better than she had ever dreamed. They had spent hours together, reading together and tossing ideas around about Mum’s latest book, going out to eat, watching trashy reality shows while eating ice cream. Mum kept reminding her that things would go back to normal when she went back to school but wanted to keep things loose for the last few weeks of summer because she had missed her so much. It was kind of nice to have a relaxing morning at home with her aunt while waiting for her mom to be freed from work.

“Alright, kid, I’m off,” Auntie Nat announced, breezing past her with her arms loaded down with gym equipment and water bottles. “Have fun with your mom tonight, and remind her to eat something before her book signing, okay? You don’t want to deal with a hangry Buttercup, believe me.”

Charlie grinned at her as Nat paused in front of the large mirror next to the door, putting down a water bottle to touch up the makeup that concealed the angry red edges of the scar that bisected her left eye, a remnant from the battle that had taken Maverick’s life and Natasha’s clearance to fly. Abby had told her that Nat still got self-conscious about the scar and warned her not to stare too much at it, but that hadn’t been a problem. She’d seen worse scars on the cowboys and cowgirls who worked on the ranch. Hell, one of their best breeding experts was a man with four fingers on one hand and only one ear. Scars didn’t exactly scare her.

“I will. Have fun at work!” Nat winked at her through the mirror before gathering her belongings and jetting through the door, allowing it to fall closed with a thud.

Feeling a short, staccato vibration in her pocket, Charlie tugged out her phone and checked for any new message from Abby. Her sister (it still thrilled her to be able to say those words) had been keeping her up to date on the ranch and the lives of the men who lived there. Last they had spoken, Abby had been excited about going on a trail ride with dad, and Charlie had shared a few tips on how to navigate Jake’s favourite trail. They both hoped that the trail ride would be a good opportunity for Abby to start digging into what went wrong with their parent’s marriage, while Charlie was angling for an opening to bring up the same topic with their mother. Thus far, all attempts had been foiled on both their parts, but neither of them was willing to give up without a fight.

Charlie clicked onto the messaging app and read the most recent message.

A: Does dad have a girlfriend?

Charlie snorted. Sure, she’d heard rumors about her dad from Rooster and Javy, how he had all the ladies drooling when he was in the Navy, but that couldn’t be further from the truth now. Besides, there was no way her father could hide a whole girlfriend from her.

C: LOL no he’s got no game

But…those rumors had to have started somewhere. And her father, as dorky as he was, had managed to date and marry her mom, who was the coolest woman Charlie had ever met. And she’d been gone for six weeks at camp. If so much had changed for her in those six weeks, there was no telling what could have changed at her home in Texas.

C: Why??? 👀

Abby’s response was sent almost immediately, as though Abby had had the message waiting to send.

A: Because there’s a random blond lady hanging out in the kitchen and he’s calling her baby

Charlie bit her lip. It didn’t sound like her dad…then again, her dad hadn’t done much dating because he’d been busy with her and the ranch. Still, he wouldn’t just hide a girlfriend from her, would he? Feeling a dark cloud begin to drift over her head, she replied.

C: You sure it’s him and not Rooster?

C: Uncle Roo has lots of hookups 🤢

A: Pretty sure I know what he looks like, thanks 🙄

Charlie tamped down a bolt of anger. It wasn’t Abby’s fault. She was just looking for information and they’d both inherited their mother’s penchant for sarcasm with their father’s ego. Abby didn’t deserve to have her head chewed off just because Charlie was asking stupid questions.

C: You didn’t until a couple of weeks ago, smartypants

“Hey babe, sorry about that!”

Charlie nearly threw her phone across the room as her mom came into the kitchen, dressed in a stylish pair of black palazzo pants and a pretty cream coloured sleeveless top.

“H-hi mum!” Charlie chirped, flipping her phone face down and grinning.

“You okay?” Buttercup’s brow furrowed.

“Fine! I was just looking up restaurants around the bookstore. Auntie Nat wanted me to remind you to eat before the book signing.” Charlie flipped the little switch on her phone to shut off notifications as Abby’s replies started buzzing in.

Buttercup rolled her eyes fondly. “Listen, a girl gets hangry one time, after 27 hours of labor and not being allowed to eat due to archaic hospital policies, and she’s never allowed to live it down.”

Charlie grinned. “But would you really want to get hangry a second time in front of your adoring public?”

Buttercup grinned. “I suppose not. But it would make for one heck of a story, wouldn’t it?” Despite her words, Buttercup dug into the fridge and pulled out a slice of leftover pizza, taking a large bite as she leant against the marble countertop next to the sink. “You know, you don’t have to come with me to the book signing, love. It’ll be super boring, and I could just have a driver pick you up and bring you to the restaurant by the theatre for dinner. I’d come get you myself but you know me. Once I walk back in the door tonight, it’s yoga pants and ice cream for me.”

“No, mum. I want to come!”

Buttercup fixed her with a look as she took another bite of pizza. “You do? You want to sit and watch me talk about the book I can’t finish and sign my name a gazillion times instead of staying home and doing whatever the cool 12-year-old girls are doing?”

“Yep!” Buttercup’s suspicious look lingered as she polished off her pizza. “What? Can’t a girl want to hang out with her mum over summer holiday?”

“She can…but she also hasn’t seen her friends since she left for camp. Are you sure you don’t want to invite Madison or Brooklyn over while I’m at work?”

Charlie was already shaking her head. “I missed you, mum. I want to spend more time with you before I go back to school. Besides, I’m almost 12. I’m not going to want to hang out with you forever.”

“Oof, right for the guilt trip,” Buttercup grinned as she washed her hands. “Alright, lady, if you’re sure, you’d better go get dressed for a day out on the town.”

Charlie grinned and hopped up from her seat. “Give me ten minutes!”

Grabbing her phone, she raced up the stairs and started pulling on the outfit she had chosen for the day, checking her hair, and brushing her teeth. Satisfied with her appearance, she pulled her phone out and checked her messages from Abby.

A: Thanks for the reminder

A: Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend?

A: He wants to talk to me about something

A: What if it’s her?

A: Charlie?

Charlie sighed, feeling only slightly guilty about leaving her sister in the lurch. But whatever issues Abby was facing, whatever conversation Jake wanted to have with her, Charlie was an ocean away and couldn’t really do anything to help. Besides, it couldn’t be a girlfriend. Dad wouldn’t have hidden something like that from her.

C: Sorry, gotta go! Mom’s taking me to one of her book signings, and then we’re going to dinner and a show! Good luck!

Before Abby could start to type back, Charlie shut off her phone and threw it into the purse she had chosen to take with her. Whatever was going on in Texas, Charlie was confident that her sister could handle it.

“…and that’s why I believe that, no matter how dark your content is, your story should always end with a glimmer of hope,” Buttercup smiled from her comfortable seat on the slightly raised stage at the back of the bookstore, and Charlie clapped along with the audience. It looked like hundreds of people had turned out for the event celebrating her mother’s works, each of them clamoring for a look at the notoriously private author who didn’t even have her picture in the backs of her books.

“Alright, it looks like we’ve got time for one more question,” the moderator said, peering out over the audience. “You, in the pink paisley shirt. What is your question?”

The young woman down the row from Charlie stood up and accepted the microphone. “Hi, my name’s Lisa. I was just wondering about the timeline of your books. You say that you’ve been writing since you were a kid, but your first book wasn’t published until 7 years ago. What was it that finally prompted you to publish your book?”

Charlie watched her mother stiffen slightly before turning an almost plastic smile to the audience. “That’s a great question, Lisa, thank you. Unfortunately, that’s just the way this industry goes sometimes. An author can spend years, decades even, revising and editing their work before a publisher will even agree to take a look at it. Besides that, I also had a lot going on in my life that…prevented me from writing as much as I wanted to. But just over a decade ago, I was faced with personal difficulties that forced me to sit and pour my thoughts out onto the page. It took some time after that to organize my thoughts into a comprehensible narrative, but that’s what ended up becoming my first book, The Things We Hold Onto.”

Lisa raised the microphone, probably to try to engage with Buttercup further, but the moderator quickly stepped in. “Thank you so much for your questions. We’ll be taking a five-minute break before the book signing begins. If you’d all like to queue up at the table, that would be wonderful. Thank you.”

The crowd quickly dispersed, and Charlie fought her way through them to stand at the bottom of the stage as her mom stepped down.

“Thanks, Diane,” she shook the moderator’s hand.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied with a wink. “I’m just doing my job. Now, I’m going to go set up the table for the signing, and I’ll see you in five minutes.”

She walked off and Buttercup turned to her with a sigh, hugging her close. “You sure you made the right call, coming to work with me? I’m bored and it’s my writing I’m talking about.”

Charlie giggled. “I’m sure.”

“You’re one weird kid,” Buttercup commented, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s hair. “But I’m so glad you’re mine. I love you.”

Charlie felt her heart beam in her chest. “I love you too.” Charlie watched as her mom guzzled a water bottle, chewing on her bottom lip as she considered her next words. “Mum…what was it that kept you from writing?” Water sputtered from Buttercup’s mouth as she coughed. “Was…was it me?”

Buttercup wiped her mouth, cleared her throat, and tugged her close again. “God, no, babe. Not you. Never you.”

“Then…was it dad?” Charle bit her lip so hard she could almost taste blood. She couldn’t imagine a world where Jake Seresin was anything but supportive of those around him, but she also couldn’t imagine a world where her father had lied to her for her entire life, so, clearly, she didn’t know everything.

Buttercup sighed heavily. “I promised you I would tell you about your dad, and I haven’t forgotten. At dinner, okay? I’ll answer all your questions at dinner.”

Charlie nodded slowly, not meeting her gaze. “Okay.”

“I’ve got to get over there,” Buttercup nodded to the queue. “Dinner. I promise.”

“Okay, mum.”

Buttercup took a few steps and turned back to her. “It wasn’t your father either, babe. Okay?”

Charlie felt the knot in her chest slacken slightly and she brightened. “Okay, mum. Go kill it!”

Buttercup winked and strode off, her head held high.

A few hours later, the queue had been cleared and Buttercup and Charlie sat in a comfortable booth at Café Murano in Covent Gardens. Their glasses of water had barely been placed on the table before Charlie leaned forward.

“Mum?”

Buttercup sighed and placed the menu to the side. “Alright, babe. I’ve made you wait long enough. What do you want to know?”

“If dad didn’t stop you from writing, what did?”

Buttercup traced a finger around the lip of her water glass. “A bunch of things, I suppose. My life with your father was…fast paced. We met, fell in love, and got pregnant with you in the span of what? Three months, give or take? I had been living in New York, getting my Masters in creative writing one minute, and the next I was moving into your dad’s apartment in San Diego. I got so swept up in the whirlwind that my writing kind of fell by the wayside. It’s okay. It happens.”

“So…what made you start writing again?”

Buttercup shrugged. “I moved here with you, and I had no other creative outlet. Bob and Nat were still in the Navy, so I didn’t have them to lean on. I had no friends here; I didn’t know any of my coworkers. It was just me and you, so I would write when you were napping. I just poured everything I was feeling into a word document and, eventually, a narrative started to take shape. It took a while, but I was eventually able to take it to the publishing company I worked for, and they agreed to publish it.”

“Why did you move here? I though you and Uncle Bob grew up in Minnesota?”

“We did,” Buttercup took a swig of water. “I got a job offer here not long after you were born, so I took it when your father and I split up.” Buttercup flagged down a passing waiter. “Could I get a glass of rosé, please? Thank you.”

“Did you split up because of the job offer?” Charlie felt her heart racing in her chest. Every question she’d ever asked (or wanted to ask) her father was battling in her mind, all of them racing to be the first to come out.

Buttercup smiled wryly. “Not exactly. Well…maybe. Kind of. I don’t know, babe. It’s complicated adult stuff.”

“But I’m almost an adult,” Charlie commented, leaning closer. “I turn 12 in a few months.”

Buttercup tilted her head. “You do indeed.” The waiter placed the tall glass of pink wine on the table and Buttercup took a long sip. “Abby, honey…I know why you feel curious about your father. It’s natural to wonder about a man you’ve never met. But…” Another sip disappeared down her throat. “There are just some things that are too complicated to explain. There was a lot going on at the time, and we had gotten together so quickly, and we were juggling parenthood with our jobs, and…” Charlie felt her face flush as her mother’s breathing stuttered, tears welling in her eyes. “Some things…just don’t work out. There are some things in life that you just can’t hold onto, no matter how badly you might want to. It made more sense for us to split up and for you to come with me than for us to keep fighting the way we were.”

Charlie sagged against her side of the booth. So much information, and nothing to do with it. Her mom was clearly just as messed up from the divorce as her dad was, but neither of them were willing to talk it out with their children or with each other. She felt a flash of disappointment in her gut, but she smothered it. She loved her mom and her dad, and she yearned for them to be able to fix things between them, but it was okay that they weren’t willing to do the leg work on their own. That’s what her and Abby were there for. Even if their plan didn’t end with their parents back together, at least they wouldn’t be able to hide their children from each other anymore. That would have to be the main goal.

“Abby?”

Charlie looked up into her mother’s wide eyes. “Yeah mum?”

“I said I’m sorry,” Buttercup bit her lip. “I’ll try to figure out a way to explain it all to you one day, I promise.”

“It’s okay, mum,” Charlie smiled lightly. “I know I sprung it on you. We can talk more when you’re ready.”

Buttercup sighed and squeezed her hand. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Abigail Juliet Floyd, but I’m so glad you’re my girl.”

“And I’m glad you’re my mum.”

Buttercup smiled tearily before picking up her menu. “You know what, babe? What do you say we break the rules and have dessert first?”

“I’d say that sounds awesome.”

Charlie yawned as she crawled into bed that night, ABBA songs still ringing in her ears. Dessert, dinner, and their performance of Mamma Mia had been an awesome time, but it was so late that she wished she could just fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow. But, in an effort to be a responsible sister, she dug her phone out of her purse and turned it on instead, searching for any new messages from her sister across the ocean.

When her search turned up empty, she opened Instagram and found her father’s profile, scanning through the photos of Abby, Jake, Javy and Rooster. She felt a pang of longing to be back in her familiar surroundings with the people she loved most, but the anger and hurt she still felt over her father’s betrayal pushed that pang back.

Still, she studied the most recent photo, a selfie of Abby, Jake and Javy at the high school football field, posted only the previous day. They all looked so happy together, her dad’s arm wrapped around Abby’s shoulders as Javy struck a ridiculous pose in the background. No matter what the outcome of their switch was, it was worth it. Abby was clearly enjoying getting to know their father, and Charlie loved her mother more now than she ever had before. Sure, they might get punished once they were found out, but getting to know their parents was completely worth the potential trouble they were in.

The staccato vibration of her phone pulled her from her musing, Abby’s face lighting up the screen. She mashed the green button with her thumb, holding the phone up to her ear. “Hello?”

“Dad’s getting married!” She pulled the phone away from her ear quickly as Abby shouted down the receiver. “He got engaged to some blond woman who looks like she’s half his age!”

“Abby?” she couldn’t help the yawn that escaped her. “What are you talking about?” Dad? Engaged? Without introducing her (or Abby, in this case) to the woman? Impossible.

“I told you! The blond woman from this morning is wearing a rock the size of my head and hanging off of dad! She said that they’re getting married, and he confirmed it!”

Charlie’s stomach dropped and the cannoli and pizza she’d consumed earlier rose in her throat. “Wh…what? No! It…it’s not possible!”

“Except that it is! He told me it was happening whether I liked it or not!” Charlie’s throat worked to dislodge the tears that were silencing her, but, even if they went away, her mind could think of no words to make the situation better. “Would you say something, please?”

Say what, exactly? Her dad hadn’t been on a date in 12 years, always claiming to be too busy. Between the ranch and parenting his daughter, there weren’t enough hours in the day. Charlie had heard him explain that to Rooster and Javy more times than she could count, so what was this, exactly? He got engaged to someone and never thought that his daughter should be able to meet the woman who would be moving into their home?

Tear after tear traced delicate lines down her face, and she worked to keep her sobs silent, mindful of her aunt, uncle, and mother sleeping in the surrounding rooms.

“What do you want me to say, Abby?” she whispered. “Dad’s getting married, and he didn’t bother to even introduce her to me.”

Abby’s tinny sigh echoed through the receiver. “I know…”

Clutching Abby’s pink bunny close, she trembled as she groaned, “But he loves mom! I know he does! You don’t shut down that often about a person if you don’t care about them!”

“He shut down on me today too,” Abby agreed. “But it’s not like I can just tell him that he loves her. He would never go for that.”

“Can you find something to prove it?” For once, Charlie didn’t care that she sounded desperate. One of the best days of her life was somehow turning into a nightmare, and she needed it to stop. “Something to remind him?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno…a photo? Their marriage license? Anything that might remind him of her?”

“Where would I even find something like that?”

“In the office in the stable.”

Charlie heard Abby rustling around. “I’m there right now, I don’t see anything.”

“In the safe under his desk. Or in the filing cabinet. I don’t know the code to the safe or where he keeps the key to the cabinet though.”

Abby sighed again. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Thanks…” Charlie sighed, wiping her eyes on the pink bunny’s fur. Come to think of it, she had an identical bunny at home, just in purple. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that while I’m having fun with mum.”

“It’s okay. Do…do you think mum still loves dad?”

Charlie rolled her eyes through her tears. “Abby, all her adult books are about a military guy falling in love with the woman of his dreams and the obstacles that keep them apart. She either loves him or she doesn’t know what else to write about.”

That much she knew was true. The whole reason her mother’s latest book hadn’t been turned in for publishing yet was because her mom had no clue how to reunite the two main characters, who were separated by duty to family and country.

“What if you’re wrong?” Abby whispered to her.

“I…” Charlie swallowed hard. “I don’t want to think about that. Find proof. I’ll find proof too. Then we’ll tell them about the switch.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“You too.”

Charlie hit the red button and let her phone slip out of her trembling hand. Her dad was getting married. To a woman she had never met before. Did he not care about how she would feel? Did he not think of her at all when he made the decision to get down on one knee? Did he think of Abby? Or their mother? What if he never thought about them? What if this whole idea was just one terrible bomb waiting to go off in their faces? What if, every time he shut down her questions about her mother, he was actually angry? What if she had misread the situation so terribly that it would have untold consequences when he found out about the switch?

Charlie felt herself begin to tremble more and struggled to take a deep breath.

Water. She needed water. That’s what her dad brought her every time her emotions took over like this. He would bring her a cool glass of water and hold her tight until the panic subsided. She may not be able to have her dad’s strong arms around her, but water she could do.

Stumbling out of bed, she quietly made her way downstairs, willing her legs to stop shaking long enough for her to get that glass of water.

She made it as far as the kitchen island before her legs gave out and she sunk to the floor in the dim light, her tears now flooding her face, her throat unable to even sob against the pressure building up inside her.

“Shhh, Charlie…it’s okay, sweetheart,” a pair of strong arms scooped her up and cradled her against a firm chest. She nuzzled into that chest, allowing her tears to soak into the white cotton t-shirt. A large hand smoothed over her hair and she felt her rescuer sit down on the couch, rocking her slightly. “It’s okay, honey. Let it all out. You’re okay, Charlie. You’re safe.”

Minutes, or perhaps hours later, she hiccupped and wiped her eyes, cradled like an infant in those arms that…were not her father’s, as her destressed mind had thought. She froze, and her rescuer sighed, lifting her slightly to lean her against the back of the couch.

Uncle Bob’s hand never left her back as she settled into a less cramped position, his hair ruffled and his glasses slightly askew. “It’s okay, Charlie,” he whispered. “Whatever’s going on in your brain can’t hurt you. We’ll find a way to fix it and, if we can’t, we’ll find a way to help you cope with it.”

Charlie blinked. He…he was calling her Charlie. He was calling her by her actual name. But…how did he…

“H-how long have you known?” she whispered, her heart settling back into a normal rhythm despite her sudden terror that her uncle would out her and ruin this before they were able to come up with a solid plan.

Bob shrugged in response. “Since the airport.”

“Buffalo or Heathrow?”

He grinned slightly, shrugging again. “Buffalo.”

Charlie groaned. “Tell me we had at least gotten on the plane first?”

“If I did that, I’d be lying.”

Charlie blinked up at him as she shifted to face him, curling her legs beneath her. “B-but…but you haven’t told anyone.”

Bob adjusted his glasses. “No, I haven’t.”

“But…why?”

Bob stared at her, his green eyes gleaming. “Because I trusted you and Abby have a good reason for this. And because your mother deserves to hear it from you, not from me. She’s missed you every day for 12 years. Far be it for me to steal that reunion from her.”

“I’m going to tell her. I swear. I just…Dad’s getting married,” she sniffled. “I don’t know if I can go home and face that right now.”

Bob reached out and gently tilted her head back so he could meet her eyes. “What did I just say? Whatever is happening, we’ll fix it together. And, if we can’t, we’ll find a way to cope with it together. Okay? That’s how this family works.”

Charlie nodded, eyes welling up again. “Thanks, Uncle Bob.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Bob opened his arms and she leaned into the hug, feeling safe and warm for the first time since she’d gotten back from the theatre. “You have to tell her though, Charlie. Tomorrow.”

She found herself nodding. “Tomorrow.”

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