#//Works half the time; already eats half the candies given by the time he can take them home

[dutybcrne]

Alhaitham has one HELLUVA sweet tooth, send tweet-

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 6

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: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.5k 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* Fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues. Flirting and talk of sex. We are starting to pine! Summary: Spending more time around Javi is as awkward as it is anything else, but spending some time with the girls has you approaching the situation a little differently after weeks of uncertainty. Notes: Introducing Elisa! Inner conflict, forced proximity, and a little soul searching are the name of the game.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5

Days tick by until it becomes weeks, and every apartment you look at is deemed either unsafe or unfit or otherwise unacceptable. The rent is too high or it doesn’t come furnished, or they don’t allow dogs. Señora Perrín had told you Chi-Chi couldn’t come to her son’s house because she generally hated men, and had said you should either keep her or bring her to a shelter.

It broke your heart that she could just give the precious guard dog up so easily and you’d been next to tears cuddling Chi-Chi on the living room floor when Javier came home from a stakeout. There was no discussion about it. Javier had just given the dog a half smile and said it was a damn good thing she liked him, because she was already settled.

On this particular morning you’re up before Javier which is incredible in and of itself. Sitting at the table with the local paper circling newspaper ads for apartments you haven’t already seen feels futile, but you have to keep trying.

Javi rolls his shoulders as he shuffles into the kitchen. He had been needing to start the coffee pot, but you’re already there, the pot full except for the cup at your elbow. “Morning.” He grunts, walking by the table and snatching up your already lit cigarette for a quick drag. You smoke the same ones he does and he’s never been shy about sharing a cigarette. “Fuck.” He groans, feeling the nicotine flooding his system. “Ran out last night.” He explains. You’re looking in the paper again and he almost asks why when it’s obvious you are settled here, but he doesn’t. You might want your own space and he doesn’t feel like it’s his place to press. You might share marks and have managed to be somewhat friendly to each other, but it hasn’t gone beyond that.

“Morning.” The ritual is usually the opposite, but he seems to adjust alright today. And today, like every other, you drag your eyes away from the sliver of tanned skin that shows at his waistline when he reaches up for a mug or to scratch the back of his neck like he does when he’s tired. “You wanna take the rest of my pack to work? I can pick more up from that corner store that stocks American while I’m apartment hunting.”

“I’ll stop on the way.” He shakes his head, pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking that first blessed sip, “Fuuuuuuuck.” He groans again in appreciation. “I don’t know how, but your coffee is always so good.”

“I refuse to give up my secret.” The pinch of cinnamon you add to the coffee grounds whenever you make a pot has turned out to be his unexpected favorite. It warms you deep in your chest with something you can’t name, but you always smile at the compliment. “There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want breakfast.” He rarely sticks around long enough in the mornings to eat anything freshly cooked, but at least he’s eating something.

“I don’t have time.” He admits. “Fucking overslept as it is.” He’s been pulling a lot of late nights, but he’s still been insisting on going in on time. Pablo getting fucking elected to office has lit a fire under his ass to prove the bastard is dirty.

It would be domestic — mothering, even — to suggest he take something with him so you swallow it off of the tip of your tongue. “Take my cigarettes, then,” you insist, putting the pack in his hand. Instead you offer something far less invasive. “Don’t waste the time stopping. I got my column in yesterday so I’m free as a bird to get more today.”

“Thanks.” He shoots you a grateful smile and nods as he takes another sip of the coffee before he checks his watch. “Shit.” He gulps down another mouthful and dumps the cup in the sink. “I’ll take care of that when I get home.” He’s noticed you’ve cleaned up when he’s too busy and he doesn’t want you to think you need to do that. “I’ve gotta go.”

“See you later.” Maybe tonight. Maybe not. Sometimes he runs into the apartment for something and then goes out again and you don’t see him until the next day. He doesn’t ever stop working, night and day.

He grabs his keys. “See you.” He manages before the phone in his pocket starts ringing. “Shit. Peña. Yeah, yeah I’m on my way.” He grunts as he closes the door and jogs down the hall towards the front of the building.

"Well girl..." Your eyes slide to the dog as she watches Javier leave, whining mournfully in her well-claimed spot on the living room rug. "Looks like it's just you and me again today. You wanna stretch out on my lap while I call landlords?"

******

The morning goes surprisingly well and there’s even time to meet Connie and one of her work friends for lunch at Steve’s insistence. “We could be working.” Javi grumbles as he lights up the last cigarette from the pack you had given him.

“It wouldn’t kill you to socialize once in a while,” Steve reminds him, nudging him toward whatever little place Connie and her friend had deemed appropriate for lunch.

“I socialize.” Javi snorts, even though he’s not once been to see the girls since you’ve unexpectedly moved in. It’s been limited to his hand in the shower every fucking night.

“When?” Steve grins, infinitely amused. “When you’re grumbling at paperwork in the office? When you’re sleeping? Are you even going to that brothel anymore? You don’t even leave the office at lunch like you used to.” He used to go to see the working girls on lunch break or after work. He knows it — they pretty much all unofficially know it. But not lately. He just doesn’t know what’s changed.

“Why are you so goddamn interested in where I stick my dick?” Javi cuts his eyes over at his partner before he yanks the door open and walks into the little restaurant. It’s annoying that Steve has clocked his habits and even more annoying that he’s noticed the change. He hasn’t told Steve about you. Neither you being his soulmate or living with him temporarily.

“Because you’re fuckin cranky when you don’t get any,” Steve mutters at his back, letting Peña bust past him into the place while he trails behind and snickers.

He rolls his eyes and pulls a chair out at a table. “You’re entirely too fucking cheerful.” He grumbles, wishing he had just told Steve he was working through lunch. He’s exhausted and honestly needs a day off.

“Just needed a little sunshine in my day,” the other man announces, beaming when he sees his own soulmate and wife walk through the door.

“Sunshine.” He huffs, crushing out a cigarette but immediately perking up when a very attractive brunette comes in behind Connie. Obviously an extra and Javi decides that a little flirting is exactly what he needs.

"Hey!" Connie Murphy comes breezing in with a smile on her face and a kiss for her husband. "Sorry I'm late, honey."

"Hey." Steve accepts the gesture of affection readily, taking both of her cheeks in his hands and pressing his lips to hers with a happy hum.

"Javier." When Connie stands up again at the table, she gestures to the brunette who came in in back of her. "This is my friend Elisa." To her friend, she explains: "Javier works with Steve."

Javi gets out of his chair and shakes her hand, enjoying how soft and warm it is. She's got a nice set of tits, and he's not feeling guilty about looking after he had that conversation with you. "Nice to meet you." He greets her and pulls out her chair for her as they both sit down.

"Are you another...janitor at the embassy? Like Steve?" Elisa asks, smirking slightly because that seems to be such a lame excuse.

"No, actually I'm CIA." Javi lies with a straight face. He glances at Steve. "But that's classified, so don't tell anybody."

The Murphys exchange expressions of raised eyebrows with each other and then with Javi, as if to tell him to cool it with the sarcasm. Somebody can and will overhear him and take him seriously.

Javi continues on. “I’m here to hunt communists and prevent the Marxist invasion from Cuba.” He’s lit another cigarette and holds it in his hand. “The janitor thing, that was you?” He asks Steve, who hums unhappily as Javi continues to talk. “No, that’s just a cover.” He tells her, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Elisa laughs, slightly unsure but willing to bet he's nearly telling the truth and that he's doing it in spite of the Murphys. She likes Connie, but the American woman is a little too earnest for her own good. "Thank you for being so honest," she says to Javier instead, and picks up on the overt honesty played like a lie tempo at the table. "Just so you know," she adds playfully. "I'm a communist guerrilla."

Javi laughs, along with Connie, and Steve gives a halfhearted smile. “Perfect.” Javi tells her with a wink.

"Yeah," Steve huffs, looking between the other two at the table before bringing his eyes back to his wife and nearly shrugging. It's obvious Elisa and Javi are on some kind of wavelength that he and Connie are not. "Perfect." He says the word but huffs it doubtfully.

Javi smirks at his partner, picking up on his mood but he doesn’t pay it any attention. “Tell me, how did you just start working at the clinic?” Javier asks Elise, as he looks over the menu. Catching sight of a meal that he thinks you would like since you like those falafel things and hating that he’s thinking about you right now.

"Everyone needs a job, don't they?" Elisa poses, acting like the answer doesn't quite matter when it truly doesn't. Not really anyway. Her work as a nurse is not the work she will be known for.

“That’s right.” Javi blows a ring of smoke up into the air and grins a Connie. He likes Murphy’s wife and it’s obvious that she’s the one that is the more outgoing of the two of them.

“So,” Connie poses, trying to brighten the mood at the table. “Lunch?”

“That sounds good.” Javi glances at the menu again and smirks at his partner. “Need some help?” He asks, knowing Steve’s reading comprehension of Spanish is worse than his speaking abilities.

“Shut up, Peña.” Steve mutters, grateful when Connie leans in to help him instead. His grasp of Spanish is growing, but at a snail’s pace.

Javi snickers quietly, feeling a little better after giving him some shit back after having to listen to Steve bring up soulmates every chance he gets. Thank god he hadn’t told him who his soulmate is, or that you are staying with him right now.

Connie ends up ordering for Steve despite his semi-valiant attempts at pronouncing the menu items, and the amusement at the table lifts the mood considerably. It’s not often any of them get to laugh anymore, and even a moment of it seems to relax everyone considerably.

“It’s good that you can meet us for lunch.” Javi tells them as they finish their sodas and wait for refills.

"I've got to see my soulmate sometimes," Connie teases lightly, leaning into Steve's side. "Dinners aren't a sure thing, so lunch seemed like the best time."

“And that means I get to eat.” Steve huffs, cutting his eyes back at Javi. His partner has a habit of living off coffee and cigarettes.

"Do you not eat?" Elisa asks Javier, curious that he seems to be getting the ire of his friends.

“Too busy working.” Javi shrugs one shoulder. “We grab something if there’s time.”

"Food is one of life's few pleasures." she returns, although she can think of quite a few other pleasures this man might be fun to indulge in with. "Pleasures are few and far between."

Javi takes another drag off his cigarette and grins at Elisa. “You’re right.” He admits.

"So why deny yourself?" She asks, nodding toward the direction their server is approaching from.

“Why indeed?” Javi thinks about you for a moment, before he pushes that out of his mind. You don’t want to do anything about your status so he shouldn’t worry about it.

"Yeah." Steve looks between the two of them with absolute incredulousness. "Why?" He really feels like he should be a reason but Javi won't say a goddamn word about his soulmate so he can't say too much.

Javi rolls his eyes and leans back as the server sets the meal down in front of you. “Hurry up.” He tells his partner. “We have to go meet Carillo after this.”

"Right." Steve snorts, ready to dig into his lunch right away. "No rest for the wicked."

“Never is.” Javi snorts and wishes he had a beer, or a glass of whiskey. When he left the apartment, you had still been asleep. He wonders what you are up to.

"Are you particularly wicked?" Elisa asks, partially for herself and partially because it amuses her to scandalize Connie with that type of question.

“Some might think so.” He admits, thinking about the question from an outsider’s point of view. “I’m flawed, but at the base of my life, I want to do good.”

That seems to surprise the other Americans at the table, but the Murphys choose not to tease – instead settling into their meal and deciding that a small amount of talk amongst themselves is more polite. Javier and Elisa seem to have slipped into a private conversation at the drop of a hat.

"Is that what you're doing?" She asks, picking up her fork and tilting her head toward the man beside her. Elisa didn't come here to flirt, but the man she has been introduced to is interesting and it won't be the worst thing in the world to chat him up for a half hour or more. "Doing good?"

“Some days it doesn’t seem that way.” Javi admits, eating his own food without really paying attention to it. “Not like health care.” More of what he does is unhealth care.

"Health care is...different than people expect it to be." Elisa tells him honestly. Not to mention that that is not the focus of her life. It was once, but not now. "Sometimes you wonder if you have done any good at all."

“I feel the same way.” He agrees, wondering if it’s that way everywhere, with any job. Maybe his pop was right and growing things was the answer all along.

"Maybe that's part of being human?" She wonders aloud, unconsciously echoing his thoughts.

“Who knew you could get philosophical over lunch?” Javi snorts, although he had actually excelled in philosophy in college.

She smiles, admittedly charmed, and she will have to confess later that Connie was right to warn her about her husband's partner. "I would have looked forward to this lunch even more if I had known."

He smirks slightly and glances over at the server as they refill his drink. Nodding his thanks before he looks back at her. “Well, now you can look forward to the next one.”

“I definitely will.” Elisa agrees, and the smile on her lips promises that she hopes to be looking forward to much more than that.

******

When a familiar car pulls up down the block, Freckles is the one that recognizes it. “Holy shit.” She huffs, turning towards the room where Helena and Vanessa are lounging. Helena hasn’t been taking clients, but she had been here to pack. Gathering all the things that she wanted and giving away the things she didn’t. “She’s here.”

“Who?” Helena asks, her attention to focused on carefully braiding Vanessa’s wet hair to achieve some natural waves after it dries. A new style she wanted to try.

She says your name, lifting a brow as she looks at the other two women. “I wonder if she’s just here for a follow up interview for an article.”

“Can’t be for us…” Helena’s head pops up immediately. She knows that you are their friend, but it would be a simple enough thing to see them outside of a professional setting if you just wanted to spend time with friends. “Can it?”

“I don’t know.” Vanessa frowns slightly. “She wasn’t happy with us knowing about her and Javier. She didn’t say it, but she wasn’t.”

“You think she came because she’s mad at us?” Freckles asks, frowning at the thought.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think she will yell at us, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The other woman shrugs. “Maybe she’s tired of Javi.” She snorts. “She does like eating pussy.”

“You think they’re fucking already?” Helena asks, frowning doubtfully. “They seemed…at odds with each other.”

“I didn’t mean they were fucking.” She corrects. “Just tired of him. Isn’t she staying with him since her apartment was raided?”

“Yeah.” Helena nods, shifting up from the couch to peak through the window. You’re just out of sight so you must be on your way in. “With the sweetest dog.”

“Javier has a dog in his apartment?” Freckles finds that hilarious and throws her head back laughing. “How domestic.”

“You know the guard dog?” Helena and Vanessa laugh along with her. They have, at various points now, all been to your apartment. “The sweet girl who sits at the top of the stairs? She is with them now.”

“But doesn’t she hate men?” Her eyes widen for a moment before she giggles again. “I can’t see Javi sneaking around his own apartment.”

“I can’t imagine he’s hiding from both of them.” Freckles shrugs. “Maybe that’s why she’s here. Like you said.”

"We will see." Helena knows that even if you are upset, you wouldn't take it out on them. You weren't that way, more of a defender than an abuser.

The knock on the door comes a moment later, but the door doesn’t open immediately. Unlike other clients, you have always been respectful of their privacy.

Freckles wanders over to the door and opens it, smiling brightly when she sees you and pulls you in for a hug. "It is good to see you!"

You came here with a purpose. You did. But seeing the three of them together — stunning women who know you far too well — seems to spook you out of your resolve. “H—hi,” you murmur instead, kissing her cheek and giving her a gentle squeeze back. Not too tight. Not too close.

"Come in." She offers immediately, stepping back and opening the door wider. "Unless you are here to just see one of us?" She asks curiously, wondering if it is simply the business of pleasure that brings you here.

“I wasn't sure who would be here.” It feels like more of a confession than you meant it to, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Okay.” Freckles glances over at the other two. “We can leave if you want to talk to Helena?” She offers.

"No–no, I..." You deflate a little, realizing that you're far less sure of this plan than you thought you were while driving here. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have come."

Vanessa frowns and shakes her head even though Helena is still working on it. “Don’t be silly.” She chides. “You are always welcomed here.”

"I don't want to intrude." Also, you somehow forgot about the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, which has your own reflection staring back at you in ways you would rather avoid.

“Why would you be intruding?” For a moment, Freckles wants to ask if you were checking to see if Javier is here, or has been here, but she doesn’t. You do seem upset, but not at them.

"I don't know." And that is all the more confusing, which brings you from flustered and embarrassed to emotional all at once. A single chin wobble feels like six with the hyperaware state you're in right now and you look around at three pairs of beautiful eyes that only make you feel all the more ridiculous. "I'm sorry, I...I'm not feeling well, I guess." You turn to go, ready to haul ass and hide yourself in Chi-Chi's fur and try to blot out the world, but Helena has gotten up to block the way in a flash.

“Stay.” She urges you, reaching out and taking your shoulders in her hands to physically turn you back towards the room. “Please.”

"I haven't...been myself lately," you admit, looking around at the three of them again.

“Because of what we told you?” Helena frowns, feeling guilty as she guides you over to the bed.

"Not...directly?" She has you sit down, and the other two girls come to sit on the bed with you, gathered around you as if you were all simply here to gossip instead of you having found yourself in the middle of an existential crisis. "It's a long story."

“If you don’t want to talk…” Vanessa senses that you are pent up and she puts her hand on your thigh. “We can always find other ways to entertain ourselves until you do want to talk.”

“I’m not going to make you do that anymore.” The realization, swift and certain, makes you swallow the lump you hadn’t sensed forming in your throat. Coming here may have been a very bad idea, actually… “I—I mean…I thought that’s what I wanted. And why I came. But I don’t think so anymore.”

Helena reaches out and touches your cheek gently. “Javier?” She asks softly, aware that you might be feeling guilty. “He hasn’t come to see us either. If that’s what you want to know.”

"It doesn't have anything to do with Javier." As soon as it's out of your mouth – defensive and swift �� you flinch and shake your head. "It doesn't have to do with him being...what he is to me, I mean."

“Oh.” The girls exchange looks but don’t say anything. There’s obviously something wrong, but they won’t push you if you don’t want to talk. They just wait.

It all comes pouring out in the face of their solid sympathy. The fights you and Javier had in the beginning, everything Alex said. The way every passing week that you live with Javier has you convinced that the universe must have been wrong. That you have stopped being able to even glance past a mirror on any sort of daily basis for fear of what you will find staring back at you. "I thought I was just lonely," you admit, under the gaze of three sets of worried eyes. "I thought I just needed to find some company to feel better again. But I walked through your door and just felt like I would be demeaning any of you by asking you to take me to bed."

Helena frowns and Vanessa and Freckles shake their heads in disagreement. “Do you think that we just fuck you because you pay us?” Freckles asks, folding her arms over her chest. “Because we don’t. We enjoy our time with you. In and out of bed.”

"I'm not thinking straight right now." The wording is unfortunate, but at least it's honest. "I don't really trust my own perspective. So while I know, deeply, because you're my friends, that you've never lied to me about enjoying yourself. I just can't..." Searching for the words has you huffing and shaking your head all over again. "I can't believe it or understand it."

“Because of what that bitch said about you?” Vanessa looks mad enough to spit nails. The fight that had been instigated to defend your honor hadn’t made you feel better and the words that you had learned were said about you had cut deep.

"This is...let's call it a lifelong problem." Sitting back against the pillows on the bed, you just drop your face into your hands and sigh. "I'm sorry to have dumped all of this on the three of you. Really."

“After what you have done for us?” Helena rolls her eyes and grabs a pack of cigarettes to offer you one. “You’re crazy.”

"Probably." You admit, letting out a half-laugh and accepting a cigarette.

“He was wrong.” Freckles tells you. “There is nothing wrong with you.” She promises. “You are soft and gorgeous. Warm and sensuous.”

"It's hard to see any kind of truth through my own doubt." Inhaling fire and exhaling smoke is such a seemingly small ritual, but it centers you in a way that you need right now. Like maybe if you had had just sat down and had a cigarette or two or three, you might not have had to bare your soul to these three kind women. To your friends – you have to remember that point. These are your friends. "I don't know if there is any truth. Looks and attraction and all of that...it's all subjective anyway."

“It is subjective.” That all the women can agree on. “My first love, he was ugly by any standards.” Freckles snorts. “But I fucked his brains out every chance I got.”

“You loved him,” you point out, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “That makes all the difference.”

“And you don’t love Javier.” She murmurs, bewildered by the idea that you might not even be attracted to your soulmate. She reaches over and takes your hand. “Not all soulmates are sexual.” She reminds you. “Javi would never force you.”

“I barely know Javier.” It feels like an entirely lame defense, but it’s true. And besides which you’re not even sure why you feel the need to defend yourself at all. But you do.

“I thought you were staying at his apartment?” Vanessa looks surprised by the fact you haven’t gotten close to him.

“I am.” It’s been nearly impossible to find a place that will let you keep Chi-Chi that you can afford and is reasonably safe, and you have just ended up there indefinitely. “But it isn’t as though we sit around the kitchen cooking meals together and having some sort of domestic fantasy.”

“So you avoid each other?” Helena frowns, not liking that at all. Javier needs a connection with someone, he is dangerously close to burnout and making mistakes and the physicality has been removed, so the emotional was definitely needed. Unless he had found comfort somewhere else.

“Not actively. I mean I sit in the living room reading at night and sometimes he’s home. We both just work constantly.” Shrugging just feels even more pathetic now but you’re not sure what else to do. “We just…don’t talk a lot when the two of us are there.”

"You are both so alike it's almost scary." Vanessa sighs softly and shakes her head.

“Stubborn and frustrating?” You guess, huffing out a half-laugh.

"YES!" All three women laugh when they answer at the same time.

The suddenness of it startles a chuckle out of you, until all four of you are laughing in a heap on the bed together. “This is what I needed,” you sigh, breathing through another laugh as Freckles hugs you to her side. “To see my friends.”

“Why don’t you fuck Javi?” She suggests playfully. “He will have you feeling good.”

“I walked in here so insecure I couldn’t even kiss any of you.” You remind them gently. “I don’t know that I’m in a place to be fucking anyone.”

"What has made you so insecure?" Helena demands, hating that you would feel that way. "Explain it to me."

You all but huff at her, feeling your shoulders round all over again. “Is being called a whale not enough?”

She frowns, reaching out and lifting your chin. "You – the woman who fought to come to Colombia, who was angry that your bosses would not let you go undercover in a brothel – let a tiny dicked man who never made you cum think badly about yourself?" She asks furiously, although her tone is softly censuring. "When your soulmate was so enraged on your behalf that he started a fight for your honor?"

The other girls murmur their agreement, but you feel all the more sheepish at having it put like that. “You make it sound very romantic.”

“It kind of is romantic.” She grins. “Especially knowing that Javier looks very sexy when he’s angry.”

"If you like him when he's angry, you'd probably be amused as hell at how we fight." It's been a week or so since the last time you argued, but the fights are fewer and farther between now, as well as shorter. Last time it had been as stupid and domestic as you getting annoyed about the schedule you worked out for feeding the dog.

“What could you possibly fight about when you barely talk?” Vanessa asks.

"Stupid things."

"You fight because you don't talk." Helena points out. And knowing you both as well as she does, she has it right on the money.

“Why don’t you do something together?” Freckles suggests. “Watch a movie?”

It's such a small, simple thing. A movie. Not a date, not a spectacle. Just a stupid, normal little movie on tv while you sit on the couch. It's...oddly appealing, actually. But you're still unsure. "Does he ever sit still long enough for something like that?"

“I’m sure you could convince him to.” Helena smirks, although she’s convinced Javier is only still when he’s asleep, or on a stakeout.

"You're all so very certain that I could get him to do anything I wanted." It's frustrating in a completely different way. Because you simply can't see how or why they believe it.

“Javi wants a connection with someone.” Vanessa hums. “Even if he won’t admit it. Even if he fights it.”

"Something else I guess we have in common, then." They know you too well for you to pretend otherwise. They know your tendency to run. To hide. To push away emotional connections. Even Alex had been kept at arm's length, but had managed to crack away at that deep desire for affection enough to hurt you with it. The bastard.

“We told you that you are the exact same.” Freckles rolls her eyes and leans in to press her lips to yours playfully with a smack.

"Apparently so." The gesture is received with gratitude, even if your heart feels a little heavier as you start to really believe what your friends have been telling you. "I'm not sure there is anything to do about it, though."

“Why?” Helena asks, wondering what could be so monumental to keep soulmates from being together.

"We sort of talked about it. The first night I stayed with him. When my building was raided." And the number of times you have gone back over it in your head since then is positively shameful. "He pretty much said he's not interested in being together. So it's all...moot. I guess."

“This was after your argument over me?” Helena asks, tsking when you nod. “The first strike.” She whispers to the other girls and they groan and nod in agreement.

"What do you mean 'strike'?" You ask, frowning.

“He rejected you before you could reject him.” She sighs. “Stupid bastard.”

"Alright, well..." Somehow that hurts far worse than you could have predicted, and you lean back in the pillows with a frown, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's still a rejection."

Vanessa huffs and throws up her hands. “Both of you, stubborn!” She hisses. “You would have done the same and you know it. You are two sides to the same mirror.”

"So what am I supposed to do about it, then?" You hiss back, feeling stung and stuck and just a tad insulted to boot. "Beg him to reconsider? Seduce him? Plead with my soulmate to give me another chance? Fuck that."

“One of you will have to bend.” Helena sighs. “It will just be a matter of who.”

"Now you see why I'm so frustrated." So frustrated that you could not see the light for all the dark around you. But your friends have helped that more than you expected.

“I am surprised Javi let you live with him.” Freckles admits. “He has never lived with anyone.”

"He feels guilty." At least that's what you assumed. It probably doesn't do any good to assume, but that is what you've done. "Because it was his team that raided my building."

“And he could have found you a place to live inside of an hour.” Vanessa snorts.

"I've been looking for weeks," you remind her, sheepish and embarrassed that it has taken you so long.

“Javier has been here for years.” She reminds you. “How do you think he got such an amazing apartment?”

"I can't figure out if you're implying that he's letting me look fruitlessly or that he's actively sabotaging my attempts to find somewhere else to live." Either one is deeply confusing and has complicated connotations, and you're not entirely sure what to do about it.

“That’s something you will have to ask him about.” All three women shrug and give you unsure looks.

“Full, meaningful conversation, huh?” You sigh, knowing they’re right. “That’s probably the respectful thing to do.”

“You do what you need to do.” Freckles tells you. “Only you and Javier can determine what happens. Not anyone else.”

“I’d much rather have it just all work itself out for us,” you admit, though the complaint is half-hearted. Having something handed to you means it’s never quite as satisfactory or as lasting.

Helena snorts and leans against you playfully. “You can do that.” She admits. “It will be an interesting journey.”

******

You’re still trying to figure out what the hell kind of journey could possibly be ahead of you when Javier comes home that night. It’s earlier than usual but still not what any normal person would call early. Thankfully you’re both night owls, so you’re in the process of making some dinner when the door opens. Having managed to track down an Italian market in an immigrant community in Bogotá during your first weeks there, you continue to make the pilgrimage whenever you need to stock up on ingredients.

Tonight you wanted comfort food — chunks of beef slowly stewed with onions, garlic, mushrooms, and carrots in tomatoes and red wine. The whole thing will be ladled over creamy, cheesy polenta and you can’t wait. These recipes your father taught you still mean everything to you as a grown woman.

He smells the food from the hallway. Different than the normal scents of cooking from other apartments and yet it is just as mouthwatering. He comes into the door and groans quietly. “I’m back.” He calls out politely.

“You’re home early.” It’s just an observation, but it feels so incredibly domestic in your current setting. “I got a little nostalgic and made a ton of food. Do you like Italian?”

“Love it.” Javi admits. “We had this little place in Laredo that did the little tea candles on the table. Best damn lasagna I’ve ever had.”

“Lasagna is one of my ultimate comfort meals.” And it sticks somewhere in your head that you’ll have to make it for him sometime. Cooking is soothing for you, after all. And an excellent way to say thank you for letting me live in your apartment and refusing to take my rent money every time I offer. “This is my dad’s version of Italian beef stew with polenta.”

He makes an impressed face and nods. “Sounds good. Do I have time for a shower?” He asks, feeling sticky and wanting to wash away the filth of the day.

"Yeah, absolutely." It's suddenly become a whole to-do, this comfort dinner of yours, but you nod. Somehow it's so much easier to see how handsome he is tonight. Like talking with the girls today had softened some of the sharp edges you had imagined before. "We could...turn on a movie while we eat? If you want to?"

He looks over at you in surprise, but your back is to him, stirring the pot at the stove furiously. Either the stew is temperamental or you are avoiding looking at him. “That sounds good.” He admits. “Cabinet under the tv has some tapes.” He tells you. “A few movies my pop sent me.”

"Okay." Stirring the polenta is just a way to distract yourself so he doesn't catch you staring at him, but that's alright. It needs to be stirred anyway. "I'll pick something out and set it up."

“Okay, uh, I’ll just jump in the shower then.” He mumbles, feeling slightly out of sorts now that you’ve agreed to this. It feels intimate, domestic, like an evening at home between soulmates would be.

"Okay." Repeating the word feels awkward, but you try to dismiss the feeling as nerves or tension. Everything is totally fine. It's just a meal. You've eaten together plenty of times before.

Heading back to his room, his movements are completely in autopilot. Unclipping his badge and gun from his hip, setting them down in his dresser and emptying his pockets. Memories of his parents sitting on the old flowered sofa in their living room watching a movie or tv show when he was younger springs to mind. Peeking around the corner from the kitchen and listening to his mother giggle quietly and seeing them kiss before he scurried back to his room.

By the time he comes back out again, you have dinner set up in bowls, two glasses of wine poured from what was left in the bottle, and his well-loved copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark in the VCR. "Bad day?" You ask, trying to be as casual and normal as possible when you catch the moody expression on his face. You probably haven't hit it at all, but you're trying.

“Every day I don’t catch that bastard is a bad day.” Javi snorts and shakes his head. “It’s frustrating. Feeling like we are just spinning our wheels again.”

"I refuse to believe you got nothing done today." He's too clever and too dedicated for that, but you won't belabor the point. "Anyway, it's late and there's not much you can do for the rest of tonight. But dinner is hot and there's booze."

That sounds fucking amazing and Javi groans in appreciation. “You didn’t have to do all this.” He reminds you, gesturing to the meal set out on the coffee table.

"I thought it would be nice." Technically speaking, you didn't make this meal for him. It is a comfort for you with the added side benefit of there being plenty to share with him. But there is something in his voice that stops you from saying so.

Javi sits down and then second guesses himself. “Do you want to sit here?” He asks, getting back up.

"Sit wherever you want." He's nervous and you're trying not to let it put you on edge too. This was just a spur of the moment idea that seemed like a nice way to spend the night. "It is your couch."

He snorts and shrugs. “I don’t care where I sit, but you might have claimed a certain corner as your own.” He jokes.

"Normally that's just whatever corner Chi-Chi has left for me when she sprawls out over the entire couch." You joke. He had let her up on his furniture on day two of having the two of you in his place and she never looked back.

“I feel like she would take up all the space if you gave her half a chance. Even a king-sized bed.” He rolls his eyes and looks over at the dog that is currently sprawled over the floor.

"Oh, believe me." With your bowls and wine sitting on the coffee table, you come closer and sit down in the corner of the couch that he isn't occupying. "Half the time when I crawl into bed at night, she's sprawled out over the entire mattress. So I have no trouble imagining she would take up a king if she can dominate my full size."

Javi frowns. “Then we should get you a bigger bed.” He hadn’t really thought much about the size of the bed in the guest room. It was just there for someone to sleep if needed and until Helena and you, it had never been used.

"You don't..." You had been reaching for your wine glass when he said it and you almost knock it over by accident. "You don't have to do that. I mean...it's your apartment. I'm just staying here through the seemingly interminable search for an apartment. I really can't figure out why it's so damn hard to find a place this time around."

Javi hums and doesn’t comment on that. Instead, he reaches for his own wine glass. “You’ll find one eventually.” He finally says.

"Eventually." The girls' words float through your mind again, and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye as you pick up your glass more securely. "You know...you've been here longer than me. I'm surprised you don't know anyone looking for a tenant."

His eyes slide he to you and then back to the tv where the beginning of the movie is finally starting after the commercials. “I’ve been keeping an ear out for something that would be good for you.” He tells you vaguely.

"Yeah?" Deciding to play the cards you have, you take a sip of your wine and then set the glass down to pick up your bowl. Dinner smells amazing and it's finally going to be cool enough to eat without burning yourself. "The girls seem to think you wouldn't have had any trouble. And that you might not mind having me around."

Javi nearly drops his spoon, hissing a curse and bobbles it for a second before catching it. “Yeah?” He turns to purse his lips at you grumpily. “The girls don’t know everything, do they?”

"Hey," you shrug, playing it off like you aren't fishing for information but giving something up instead. "I thought it was kind of nice that they thought that. Like we might actually be getting used to each other."

He relaxed slightly and turns back to towards the tv and his stew. “You don’t annoy me as much as you first did.” He snorts. “And you cook.”

"So it's purely functional." It's just light teasing, because you're not really questioning him or calling him out. It's just...nice to hear the good humor in his voice. "Maybe...you would let me pay rent in groceries and cooking? Instead of cash?"

“You don’t have to pay rent.” He huffs out, rolling his eyes as you bring up the idea yet again. “I would have to rent this place even if you didn’t sleep in that room.” He points out again. “And the electricity and water are included. It costs me nothing.”

Your hand, spoon and all, stop halfway to your mouth. "You...don't pay rent? Like at all?"

That wasn’t what he said, but he shrugs. “Technically? No.” He admits. “DEA pays for it. And it’s under the set amount they give us. So I make money every month.”

"Well shit..." The fact that you misunderstood him at first doesn't change the meaning of the thing. His housing stipend more than covers the cost of the space you have both been living in. You almost sputter around the fact, but end up biting your lip and shrugging exaggeratedly. "Fine. I'll just cook because I like to and because we both need to eat." Looking over at him though, your head tilts unconsciously. "But...maybe it would be okay if I stop looking for a different place?"

Even though he’s honestly relieved that you are voicing that, Javi jolts one shoulder up in the air casually, as if it doesn’t matter to him. “Up to you.” He grunts as he spoons up a first bite of the stew and polenta. “If you’re comfortable here.”

“Chi-Chi is.” You nod toward the enormous sprawl of an animal nearby. She’s found a corner of rug and isn’t giving it up for anything. “I guess that settles it.” As if the dog’s comfort and happiness were the only factor, you simply start eating, turning your attention to the screen with a smile curling your lips.

It’s probably the first thing that you’ve not argued with him about and he grunts, wondering if it’s because you feel safer here, or if the fact that he had spread word that the American woman looking for an apartment was important to the DEA had scared people off. He doesn’t regret it at all. Eventually someone would know about your connection to him, and he didn’t want that used and you to be harmed.

It’s several minutes later when you laugh to yourself during the movie that you realize how simultaneously comfortable and tense you are here these days. And that the tension isn’t the walking on eggshells kind of tension you’ve had with other people in the past. But something almost eager. Like it’s on the verge of actually being pleasurable. But that might just be the soulmate bond talking. Either way, you go on eating and smiling to yourself, wondering if he feels it too or if you’re just too convinced by what the girls had to say today.

Hearing you snort in amusement; Javi looks over at you to find you grinning. “Have a think for this guy?” He asks with a smirk, nodding towards the tv. Most of the office girls in the typing pool swoon over Harrison Ford.

“Who doesn’t?” You counter, unashamed to admit to it. “Just like every other woman my age, right? Every guy I know is in love with Michelle Pfeiffer. It’s the same deal.”

He chuckles and shrugs. “She’s alright.” He answers. “I don’t really fantasize about women who wouldn’t even know my name.” He admits. “I like the ones I’ve got a chance with.”

“Fantasizing is an integral part of my day to day,” you tell him, glancing away from the screen to see if he’s looking at you. You can’t tell if you’re hoping for it or not, but you’re curious.

He watches you turn your head and look into his eyes. His curiosity getting the best of him. “And what do you fantasize about?” His voice is suddenly raspier, dropping into a lower, more intimate pitch.

“I—” You hadn’t meant it like that. In fact you’d barely thought about what you were saying when you said it. But now that he’s asked? The coil in your guts tightens and you swallow thickly. “Lots of things.” The truth sparks from you like wildfire. “W—waking up wrapped in someone…those little touches that are electric with someone new…the whole, uh…the whole…work surprise thing…”

“Work surprise?” He frowns slightly. “Like fucking in the broom closet?” He asks, trying to understand you a bit better even if this is more than he ever thought he would know. You aren’t interested in him, but he’s curious.

“Not what I was thinking.” You laugh, though, trying not to pay attention to the way your skin tingles in response to the idea of him dragging you into a closet for anything remotely sexual. “I was thinking more like…the romance of a surprise. My mom used to make excuses to go surprise my dad at work every single week. Just because she knew how hard he worked, and she wanted there to always be something to look forward to on the hardest days.”

“Your mom would go to your dad’s work to fuck him?” He remembers that your dad was a chef and he chuckles. “I heard some kinky shit happens in a kitchen.”

“I mean…” The realization is striking, that that probably is exactly what was happening, and you sputter for a few seconds out of sheer surprise. “She always told us she was just going to spend his breaks with him, but…probably.”

He laughs quietly, watching the realization rush over your face. “It’s always weird to think about your parents fucking.” He reaches over and pats your thigh. “It’s okay.”

“She just always made it sound very romantic,” you admit, dissolving into laughter.

“Fucking can be romantic.” He chuckles. “And romance can be a passionate quickie.” He snorts, “My parents probably used the hay loft more than I did.”

“See, stripping down in a hayloft to roll around on a blanket does sound romantic.” Or maybe you just have a little bit of a cowboy kink. Who knows? “A restaurant stock room? Not so much.”

He smirks as he shrugs. “Depends on what gets you going.” He argues playfully. “Maybe mayonnaise did it for them.”

“Gross.” But you’re still laughing, the movie forgotten in the background and your dinner sitting in your lap. “I can readily say mayonnaise does not get me going.”

He chuckles as he spoons up another bite of the meal. He almost tells you that he will note that, but you might not want him to do that. “Oh I love this part.” He snorts as he catches sight of the movie again.

Indy’s exploits suddenly seem less interesting to you, but you watch the movie and continue to eat with an undeniable warmth building in your chest.

The problem is that Javi wants to keep talking to you, but he also doesn’t want you to think that all he wants to talk to you about is sex. It’s frankly surprising to a man who enjoys sex and women as much as he does, but sex with you seems to be about as obtainable as climbing Mt. Everest.

“I always wanted to be Marion Ravenwood when I was a teenager…” It comes out as just a little murmur, but it’s true. Marion had been one of your favorite role models. “Her or Lois Lane.”

“She was always way too good for Indy.” Javi points at the screen with his spoon as he reaches for his wine with the other hand. “But I’m sure Lois speaks to you more because of that journalism connection.”

“She’s the one I went with in the end, I guess.” The comment that Marion is too good for Indy makes you glance over at him again and consider. He has that whole dashing-and-daring thing that Indy does —would he think a Marion was too good for him too?

“You’ve got a little bit of Marion in there too.” Javi tells you as he sits back with his wine and takes another sip. It’s pretty damn good with the meal. “Digging for a story down here is kind of like digging for the fucking Arc.” He huffs, halfway grinning.

“I’ve got Marion from plenty of things.” You shrug your shoulders. “Stubborn, persistent, cocky at the wrong times and wildly insecure at others. Plus the drinking.”

“Insecure?” He frowns. “Why? You’re a ball buster. You shouldn’t have an insecure bone in your body.”

“Seriously?” You almost slip and call him Javi, even though you’ve never called him anything but Javier in the whole time you’ve known him. The girls all call him Javi and it feels so intimate. “It’s a total front.”

"It's a good one." He admits. "When you want to exude confidence, you do." He hums to himself as he picks up his bowl again. "You'd make a hell of an actress if it's a front."

“I grew up with older brothers,” you remind him. “You learn to at least pretend to have a spine, or you end up trampled. In my case, I was then stupid enough to go into journalism. So it’s just more men everywhere, and these ones all want me to fail miserably.” Shrugging again, you put down your empty bowl and reach for your wine glass. “Maybe some of it stuck, I don’t know.”

"I don't fucking understand that." Javi shakes his head. "Yeah, there are certain jobs I don't like seeing a woman in. Ones where they are in danger, but that's my own bullshit and I would never want someone to fail."

“Then you were raised with a hell of a lot more respect than any of my colleagues.” There’s nothing really to do about it but keep your head down and keep fighting, so you just wave one hand as if it doesn’t matter. “Which is a comfort, by the way.”

"You don't watch a woman run a ranch, which is fucking hard work, while her husband is in the hospital and not realize that there isn't a whole hell of a lot women can't do." Javi might be old fashioned in some sense, but he had also been raised by a tough woman.

“Cheers to your mother, then.” You raise your glass to that without hesitation. “She sounds like she was a bad ass.”

"She was." He chuckles and lifts his drink in a toast to her. "Just like I'm sure your father was a hell of a man."

“Wherever they are, I’m sure they’re watching us and laughing together.” Tapping your glass against his, the clink rings out, and you share that drink to your parents with pride.

He shakes his head, knowing that his mama is laughing for certain. “She always warned me I would find someone who wouldn’t put up with me just because I was charming.”

“She wanted somebody who saw you for you.” That’s an admirable thing for a parent. For anyone to want for their loved one. “My Dad always said I’d find someone who wouldn’t put up with me talking shit about myself.” He actually said that your soulmate would be that person, but you won’t put that on Javier.

“You shouldn’t talk shit about yourself.” Javi agrees with that. “You have the power in any situation romantically.”

"Absolutely not." The very idea of it earns him a snort from you, and you practically drain your glass to keep from laughing out loud. "That is so far from the truth."

“Why do you think that’s not true?” He asks, curious to hear this answer.

"Because," you reason, finding that last sip of wine and putting your glass back down on the coffee table. "If I had any kind of upper hand, I wouldn't have spent most of my romantic life, I wouldn't have had to settle for weasels that I basically had to beg for attention."

“You have a pussy.” Javi reminds you. “And a nice set of tits and ass.” He rolls his eyes. “If you put your mind to it, you could have all those weasels begging you for attention.”

"That's...not really how it works for girls like me." At least, not in your experience. Or the experience of most other women your size that you've known throughout your life. It makes you lips turn down in a frown and you shift slightly in your place on the couch.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Javi frowns when he sees you pull in on yourself and turns back to his bowl. “I’m sorry.”

"No." Breathing out, you shake your head again and wipe your hands on your jeans. "No, my shitty self-esteem is not your responsibility. Sorry. Please don't let it ruin tonight."

“It’s not ruining the night.” Javi promises you. “I just didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

"You aren't." You assure him quickly. "I just...I guess I wish it was true. That it was just that easy."

“Just don’t let anyone give you shit.” He tells you. “You are a good girl.”

"Careful." Before you can stop yourself, the joking ball buster comes out of you all over again. "I might like being praised a little more than other girls."

He stares at you a moment before he snorts and shakes his head. “That’s the kind of attitude you should have.”

"Shameless vampy flirt?" You ask, with one eyebrow raised.

“Vampy?” He lifts a brow of his own in challenge.

Competitive. Your teachers and your brothers and your parents and everyone else in your childhood had always called you competitive. Not in the athletic sort of way. But in the way where you could never back down from a challenge. Almost instantly you're tossing the collar of your sweatshirt off your shoulder and batting your eyelashes, shaping your lips into a pout. "Is that what does it for you? Vampy?"

His cock twitches violently and if you weren’t who you are, he would be on you in a second. Taking you up on the invitation in that look. But you aren’t looking for him to jump you. “Maybe.” He manages, trying to not let it seem like it’s taking everything he had in him to act normal.

Something changes. Something in his eyes flashes. He tenses. Something in the moment reacts so assuredly that your heart speeds up and you unconsciously lick your lips, tongue darting out to wet them like some sort of silent and unintentional test to see if he's watching you as carefully and with as devoted focus as you're watching him. If you – when did you get to this place and why didn't you notice before? – actually want to kiss him as badly as you think you do in this moment.

Javi practically dumps the bowl onto the coffee table as he stands up. You licking your lips bothering him so much he has to move. “Gotta pee.” He explains. “Keep watching the movie.”

"I—uh—" He seems to panic and it deflates you instantly, to the point where all you can do is sputter and shrink back in your seat, shoving your stupid sweater back up on your stupid shoulder. "Right. Okay."

Javi does have to pee, but it takes a moment to get the half chub he has going on to go down. “She’s fucking teasing you.” He reminds himself. “Don’t fucking touch her. Just don’t.”

He was just fucking tease you. You reprimand yourself over and over, trying to get yourself under control before he comes back. Before you give yourself away. Before you have to admit to anyone but yourself that you actually had been hoping that he would take you up on the offer. Calm the fuck down!

After a few minutes, Javi slowly walks back down the hall. “Want a beer?” He asks, hovering between the kitchen and the living room. “Water?”

"Water is fine." More alcohol is probably a bad idea. You don't want to get tipsy and do something that will make things awkward again. "Thank you."

“Welcome.” He gets two glasses of water, figuring he better lay off the booze himself. He’s changed the mood and he doesn’t know how to go back to that somewhat easy vibe but he knows more alcohol won’t help.

With a little less than half the movie left, he brings back two glasses of water and you thank him for your again as he settles back down on the couch. Chi-Chi had barely stirred while he was gone but now she shifts, getting up from her corner of rug to move over four feet and flop down in front of the sofa as if she means to tell you that neither of you is allowed to get up again.

Javi snorts to himself and tries to watch the movie again, spreading his arm across the back of the couch towards you. Legs splayed a little to be comfortable and he takes a sip of his water, “Want a cigarette?”

"Sure. Thanks." You've gotten into the habit of sharing packs while you're in the apartment together so this, at least, is relatively normal. Or at least as normal as the two of you are bound to get.

Sharing a cigarette is normal. He reaches for the pack and puts one in his mouth and flicks the lighter. Taking a drag off the smoke before handing it to you.

It's such a little motion, and so practical, but after that moment of flirtation where you could have sworn you saw attraction in his eyes, it feels so intimate to smoke from a cigarette that was just held by his lips. Like if you try hard enough you could taste him instead.

Shit. You really have to stop thinking like this...

Javi leans back and sighs softly. “Needed that.” He admits. “Need to fucking quit, but I’m already cutting back on other things.”

“I keep thinking I should quit,” you admit, but take another drag when he passes it back to you. “But I never do.”

“Stress.” Javi snorts. “Addiction. Habit. Who knows?” He looks at it seriously and then takes another drag. “Smoking a cigarette is more satisfying than chewing some fucking gum.”

“I honestly don’t even like gum that much.” It’s stupid, that little insignificant piece of trivia about yourself, but you feel like you’ve made some tiny bit of headway tonight. At the very least, if you’re going to be roommates for a while, sharing things seems easier than expecting him to read your mind.

“It’s okay.” He doesn’t mind it, but the burn of the nicotine in his chest is what he really wants. “But it doesn’t beat this.” He hands the cigarette back to you, noticing the filter is stained with the last bits of wine from one of your lips, resembling lipstick.

You both silently realize it about the same time, and the smile tugging at your lips grows ever so slightly in silent response. Acts of connection, no matter how small, are making you happy tonight.

“Got another carton in the car.” Javi tells you. “I’ll bring them in before I leave in the morning.”

“Thank you. It’s so much easier than high-tailing it across the city to that American market near my old place.” You’re learning his neighborhood— your neighborhood— little by little. It will be good to put it more of an effort now. Since you’re officially staying put.

“Yeah.” Javi frowns slightly. “Be careful if you go back over on that side of town.” He tells you. “Escobar wasn’t happy about his sicarios.”

“Shit…” You wipe one hand down your face and sigh. “Inez found a new place in that same neighborhood. I’ll have to tell her to watch out.”

“Yeah.” He knows you still talk to the bartender from the club you lived under. She was also your neighbor. “Let her know.”

“Thanks, Javi.” It slips this time, just a nickname. Just a small act of intimacy. But it slips without you even realizing it.

He hears the softness of his nickname on your tongue. Making him want to reach out. To pull you closer to him, but he doesn’t. You two are in this awkward, yet comforting place and he doesn’t want to rock the boat. “You’re welcome.”

______

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 @southernbe

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

How would our favor Yan demon brothers be when seeing their lil sheep mc wearing something cute and modest for once when they have their human body back ( minus the sheep parts like her horns and fluffy tail )

Finally Barbatos has given you a more refined version of the potion and now you look like a normal human. Now you can finally get rid of all the immodest outfits they had you wearing because of your fluffy sheepy bits and horns. Finally able to wear the clothes you want to wear you proudly pose. 

“So boys? What d’ya think?”

“I’m happy for you, I’m sure you’ll delight in being taken more seriously.”

Lucifer will miss it 

just a lil’ bit

But nonetheless you are still the human he fell in love with from the beginning

And he’s not at all disappointed when he gets previews of the new (Y/n) calendar

Especially when you are willing to wear a copy of his normal outfit

“Now that you are back to normal would you like to try on this?

“Won’t get as much as those sheepy pics but this works too!” 

Mammon’s still excited 

You’re just so pretty 

He’s definitely getting outfits so expensive he’ll have to work to pay off for a lifetime

But it's worth it to see you walk by wearing what he’s got you

“Y-yeah I bought that for them! Of course, the Great Mammon has such good tastes! Y-you l-look half-descent a-at least.”

“Perfect! Now you really can be Ruri-chan! Properly this time!”

Leviathans elated

He’s been waiting for this day for far too long

He’s ready to recheck all your measurements as he preps the different cosplay he wants you to try

It is hard to style around your horns and wool without making it a part of the outfit

“Now I can properly get the (Y/n) experience!” 

“Good to know. Now I’ll be looking into making you part-cat next.”

Satan’s joking he’s not

He would often imagine what’d you’d be like without the sheepy bits

Of course, it just felt like an over-the-top censor bar 

But who is he to complain

Now you are unobstructed

“Here in the meantime, you can wear this headband and cattail. You’d look just fine.”

“Yay! Now wear this! What! This is going to make your little human butt look the  cutest!”

Asmodeus is not phased at all by the change

In fact, he was ready for it 

Already lining up the outfits in his closet that you could wear

And you are wearing it

Modest or not

After all you are a weak little human compared to the avatar of lust

“I’m ready to see all of you baby! Don’t run!”

“You don’t look like cotton candy now.”

For Beelzebub, Nothing’s changed much 

You’re still weak to him 

Still eating impossibly less than he

All he knows is that you no longer look like the carnival treat

You still look just as cute with food spilled on you

“I’ll help you clean up. It’d be a waste to not lick you this food up.”

*Yawn* “Doesn’t matter to me your just as soft.”

Belphegor feels really pleased

He always liked your more human parts

Especially your skin

He sleeps on wool and cotton all the time 

So he’s happy all of you are just you

Though he’d really prefer it if you didn’t want to wear clothes anyway

“You don’t need this, do you? Or your shorts, right? I just want us both to be comfortable before we nap.”

[mmmleckerlecker]

Snack Number Fourteen

Happy vore day 2023! Please enjoy this EXTREMELY self indulgent fic that’s been cooking in my brain for quite awhile now…

Summary: The predator had always prided himself on his self-control. And he really does like to make things last. Just another night with him and his (fourteenth) favorite snack.

Contents: m/m, cruel pred, willing pred, unwilling prey, non-fatal, pre-vore, partial digestion, post-vore (aka the main focus), regurgitation, I imagined a size-difference while writing but it’s never really specified

Wordcount: 5,301

* * * * * * * * * *

The predator came home that evening feeling exhausted. And absolutely starving.

He wished he could say that his work had ended once he’d left the office just a half hour ago, but he’d be lying. He knew very well that there was an extensive pile of paperwork just waiting for him on his desk at home. It really was going to be a long night.

Ah, well, no rest for the wicked and all that.

The predator did, fortunately, have at least one thing to look forward to that night, and he was very much looking forward to it. He could barely contain his excitement, nearly bouncing on his toes in a very un-predator-like fashion. But it had been so, so long. He could forgive himself this once for his lack of self-control.

And so the predator bounced his way upstairs, right to the locked doorway at the end of the hall. He pulled out a tiny silver key, slid it into the lock, and turned.

“Good evening, my little snack,” he said with a grin, flicking on the light of the now unlocked room. “You’re looking exceptionally… recovered tonight.”

The boy— fresh out of college, still so strong and vibrant— let out a groan.

“Please,” he begged as he squeezed himself into the farthest corner. “Not again. Please… just a little longer.”

The predator entered the room and smiled in a way which he considered warm and affectionate. Unfortunately, he must not have gotten it quite right because the closer he got, the more the boy only shrank and shivered away.

“Now, now,” the predator chided, crouching down in front of the boy. “It’s been weeks since last time. We’re more than overdue.” He reached out, ignoring the way his snack flinched away, and ran his fingers over the boy’s cheek. The flesh was riddled with burn scars but otherwise healthy. “See? You’ve already healed up.”

The boy didn’t answer. The predator tried smiling again, making sure to show all his teeth.

The boy had been living in this room for months now, which was a good deal longer than many of his predecessors. The predator had no inkling of the boy’s name, all he knew was that he was Number Fourteen. He didn’t really have any desire to learn the boy’s name either. To the predator, he was just another snack. The fourteenth snack, to be precise.

You see, the predator was a master of control, and whenever he found something he really liked, he liked to drag it out for as long as possible. When he was a boy, he once bought a lollipop that he enjoyed so much, he made it last for seven and one-quarter years. Every night like clockwork, he would take precisely one lick of the candy. No more, no less. Just enough to indulge in its sugary sweet flavor. And then he would carefully wrap it and put it away for the next day. He’d prided himself on his patience and pacing, even then.

Years later and the only thing that had changed were his tastes. Now his snacks were a bit more… complex.

“You’ll need to eat first, of course,” the predator continued to his snack. “And drink. We can’t have you getting de-hydrated now, can we?”

The boy was already shaking his head, but the predator didn’t pay him any mind. He knew what was best for his snack, what measures to take to make them last the longest. He’d gone through many trials and errors.

“Come now.”

The boy didn’t resist when the predator hoisted him to his feet. He’d given up fighting long ago. The predator led his snack down the hall, down the stairs, and into the dining room, where he bade him sit at the table. The boy obeyed, his scarred face looking utterly despondent.

“What do you say?” the predator asked as he opened one of the kitchen cabinets. “Beef stew for dinner? That is one of your favorites, isn’t it?”

This, of course, was a little inside joke between the two of them. Beef stew was the only thing the boy ever got for dinner. For some reason though, he didn’t seem to find this joke very funny. The predator let out a wistful sigh. Snack Number Thirteen would have laughed. Or at least offered one of the witheringly sarcastic remarks that he so loved. Even after all these months, the predator missed their heated banter.

The predator didn’t wait for an answer from his current snack before pulling one of the many cans of beef stew off the shelf. He poured it into a bowl, then very kindly heated it up in the microwave. He put the bowl and a cup of ice water on the table before the boy. The ice water was actually a special treat for tonight. Usually he only got room temperature water.

“Go on then,” the predator urged as he took the seat across from his snack. “Eat up!”

Ever so painfully slowly, the boy began to eat. The predator watched with keen interest. Every bite of food, every sip of water, every contraction of those beautiful throat muscles, just made him all the more hungry. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. Snack Number Fourteen shifted the spoon in his hand and cleared his throat.

“You don’t have to watch me eat,” he mumbled, eyes firmly locked on his half-empty bowl.

“Oh, but I very much do,” the predator told him, resting his chin in his hand. “I need to make sure you eat everything. And I need to know exactly when you’re done and ready. And besides that… I do enjoy watching my snacks feed themselves.”

The boy’s fingers squeezed at the handle of his spoon before he took one more deliberate bite.

Number Six had been a slow eater too. Even slower than Number Fourteen, surprisingly. She seemed to think she could put off the inevitable if she ate at the pace of a turtle in slow motion. The predator had always found that amusing. He had the patience of a saint, and a bowl of stew could only be stretched out for so long.

The predator smiled lazily at the memory. This seemed to unnerve his snack who happened to glance up at that moment. With a small intake of breath, the boy began scooping his stew with a bit more purpose than before.

In a few more minutes, the only thing he had left were a few last swallows of water. The predator watched, nearly quivering with anticipation. The last drops of water rolled so, so slowly past the boy’s lips. He swallowed. He set his glass down.

The predator lunged, unable to wait any longer. In the blink of an eye, he had the boy by his shirt and was yanking him across the table. Silverware, cup, and bowl were knocked carelessly to the side. The chair toppled backward as the boy kicked his feet, struggling fruitlessly as he was dragged across the table.

Snack Number Fourteen only managed a small cry of surprise before he was cut off by his head being shoved unceremoniously into the predator’s mouth.

The predator’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out a little moan of contentment. The first taste was always the best part, in his opinion. He took his first swallow, felt the way his throat stretched, and then had second thoughts on that opinion. Actually, he thought, it was the first swallow that was the best part. His fingers curled into the boy’s shirt, clinging to him and pulling him in further.

Ignoring the way his snack groped blinding at his face, the predator took another swallow. The boy’s shoulders stretched his throat even more and gave the added bonus on impeding his snack’s assault.

The predator considered the possibility of the second swallow being the best part.

He continued this reassessment after each greedy gulp. The third one began stretching his ribs apart in a sickeningly satisfying way. The fourth one saw him halfway through, right at the boy’s hips. It was at this point, Snack Number Fourteen’s head finally entered the predator’s stomach and the predator let out an involuntary shiver. He was sure now that the fourth swallow had to be the best part. Nothing could surpass this feeling.

But then he took his fifth swallow and he was forced to scoot his chair backwards, away from the table, to make room for his now rapidly expanding middle. His sixth swallow had his stomach stretching so much, he really didn’t think it could get any better than this, but then he was only at his snack’s knees! A seventh swallow and only the boy’s toes remained out in the open.

The predator touched a delicate hand to his throat so he could feel the last of his snack sliding down. He took his eighth swallow and closed his mouth as Snack Number Fourteen disappeared fully behind his lips. The last of the boy went smoothly down his throat, and the predator winced as his belly was stretched to maximum capacity. He even winced as it pressed painfully into the table he’d so politely just pushed himself away from.

Somewhat annoyed, he took another difficult scoot backwards, freeing himself from the confines of the table edge. Once a safe distance from the table, he allowed himself to relax in his chair. His eyes fell shut and his hands wandered quite greedily to the now healthy curve of his belly. A deep contentment spread through him as his fingers searched out the shape of his snack.

The boy, for his part, was shifting and stretching within, most likely trying to find the closest approximation to a comfortable position. Somehow the predator doubted there were many such positions in there, but really that was none of his concern. For his part, he was in heaven. And there was only one thing that could make it better.

With a dreamy sigh, he gave in and let his stomach come to life with the beginnings of digestion.

A wave of pleasure crashed over the predator, easing away the stress of his work day and making all that paperwork seem like a distant memory. If he could live in one moment forever, it would be this one. Full, warm, carefree. Even his snack could barely keep still. Although, it was doubtful from any kind of pleasure. More likely it would be the discomfort that came from slowly being digested alive.

He’d be perfectly safe however. Maybe a little worse for wear, but he’d come back up in one piece when the predator was through with him. Probably. You see, this is where the predator’s superior self control came in handy. His snacks were just too good to finish off altogether, so he’d learned just how much to slow his digestion and just how long they could last under those conditions. The boy was his lollipop, and once the predator had indulged in his single taste, he’d put him back in his wrapper for next time.

After several minutes of lounging comfortably and gently kneading his stomach into submission, the predator decided he’d stalled long enough. There was a pile of paperwork with his name on it just waiting for him.

But as he sat upright, the chair squeaking in protest, he realized just how sleepy his snack had made him. And though he fought so very valiantly to convince himself that work was more important, the need for sleep won out. He deserved a little nap, didn’t he? He’d been working terribly hard lately. Of course he deserved it.

So with the resolution that it would only be a very short nap, the predator hefted himself to his feet and slowly made his way to the bedroom. The journey was made somewhat difficult by the suddenly very lively weight in his middle, scrambling for purchase with each step, but the predator fought through such tribulations with barely a moan of protest.

The softness of his bed called to him and he fell into it without hesitation. He felt his snack pushing back as it was unceremoniously pinned between his weight and the bed, but the sleep now overtaking the predator left him quite unbothered by his snack’s inconvenient location.

As his eyes fell shut, the predator double checked that he had his stomach under control and promised himself once more that this nap would only last a short while.

And then he knew no more.

* * * * * * * * * *

When the predator awoke, he found himself unusually groggy. He blinked and yawned in the half-light of his room, wondering why he didn’t feel his usual peppy self after a good, hearty nap. It wasn’t until he tried to sit up and found himself impeded by the weight in his middle that he remembered what was going on.

He checked the time and was aghast at how late it was. Internally, he scolded himself for being so careless. Where was his usual sense of self control? Not only that, but he was further worried by how unusually still the weight in his stomach was.

He grimaced as he looked down at the curve of his belly. He liked to pretend his snacks were lollipops that would last ages if he was careful enough— one little taste at a time, but sometimes they felt more like a piece of gum— chew it up and spit it out ad nauseam, but grow too careless and you could swallow it, make it gone for good after just one tiny mistake.

If he wanted to get technical, he could say that this was how he’d lost most, or rather all, his previous snacks. He’d get distracted just one time for a little too long and his stomach had its way with them. Tragic, really. So many snacks gone too soon when they still had so much to offer.

“Hello, in there?” the predator called as he poked at his engorged tummy. He felt some small hope in finding whatever was inside to still be relatively solid. “Are you still kicking in there, Number Fourteen?”

The predator jumped in surprise when he received what felt like a kick to his stomach walls.

“Oh!” he said as a second kick (for good measure, he assumed) struck another uncomfortable blow. “I thought I’d finished you off in my sleep!” he told his snack in excitement. “But you’re doing surprisingly well in there, it seems. I think you could last for another few hours at most!”

There was a pause in which the predator was sure his snack was processing this exciting new opportunity, and then Number Fourteen went absolutely feral, struggling with a ferocity he’d seemingly given up on after the first five or six times he’d been been swallowed down. The predator was impressed. His current snack was now rivaling the persistence of Snack Number Four. That one never seemed to grow exhausted or give up.

“Yes, yes,” the predator offered his assurances as he kneaded his snack back into submission, “I know you’re just as elated as I am to spend more time together.”

Another kick.

The predator gave his belly a firm squeeze, coaxing the contents within to cooperate. “But you’ll need to try to contain yourself. Or would you rather continue acting up? It does get rather difficult to control my stomach when you’re moving so deliciously about.”

His snack went deathly still.

“Thought so.”

With only a negligible amount of difficulty, the predator pushed himself out of bed and stumbled out of the room. His snack came back to life as the movement jostled it about. The predator clutched at his belly as it cramped up. He never did like walking on a full stomach.

Finally, he reached his desk. His office chair sat invitingly before a not-so-inviting looking stack of papers. He frowned, still fighting off the grogginess from his earlier nap. Even with the comfort of a full belly and a reinvigorating nap, doing paperwork felt about as desirable as pulling teeth. His own teeth, of course. The predator had never pulled someone else’s teeth, but he thought it would likely be more interesting than paperwork.

The predator turned his thoughts over and over in his head, looking for something, anything that could make the task at hand even just a tad bit more enticing.

The predator snapped his fingers as his thoughts clicked into place.

“That’s it!” he exclaimed before heading back to the kitchen, still clutching his belly to keep the both of them steady.

Yes, he’d had one snack, but why not a second snack? And not a special snack like Number Fourteen. But just a normal snack, something to munch on. Oh, he did love to munch, and his snacks absolutely loathed sharing space with actual food. They always got disgruntled and squirmy, just enough so that the predator got a pleasant internal massage out of it.

The predator threw open his pantry with relish and began digging through the shelves for something of interest. This proved to be a more difficult task than usual as the weight in his middle continually threatened to throw him off balance whenever he leaned down for a closer look. Thankfully, the predator was never one for quitting and he fought valiantly not to fall flat on his face (an effort he was sure his snack appreciated as well). After an arduous battle with the pantry shelves and his own stomach, the predator emerged victorious with his prize in hand. A somewhat simple bag of potato chips, never before opened. Now this was sure to motivate him to his paperwork.

The predator was halfway back to his desk before he fully considered the consequences of choosing such a salty snack. Of course he’d need a beverage to wash it down with, it was only sensible. He turned on his heel, then nearly turned into a topple as he forgot he was quite belly-heavy at the moment. His non-potato chip snack braced itself awkwardly against his stomach walls while the predator readjusted himself.

Next thing, in a series of events much like in the pantry, the predator was rifling through the refrigerator. When he finally stepped away, he was carrying a bottle of only the finest of cherry colas and glad to be upright and well-balanced again.

With a certainty that he was finally prepared for that hateful pile of paperwork, the predator returned to his desk. He pulled out his chair and fell into it with a grateful sigh. It was always terribly tiresome carrying around so much extra weight. It took some adjusting, lowering his seat so there was room for his belly beneath the desk, and spreading his knees so the weight of his snack didn’t cut off his circulation, but finally the predator could comfortably rest his elbows on the desk and start writing.

With a very satisfying burst of salty scents, he tore open the bag of chips. He took a bite and gave an agreeable hum. Of course Snack Number Fourteen was his favored thing to eat, but they just didn’t provide the pleasurable crunch of a good potato chip.

The predator couldn’t suppress a small smile when he swallowed and felt the consequent twitch of surprise from Number Fourteen.

“Sorry about that,” he said, patting his stomach and hoping he was hitting somewhere close to his snack’s back. He wasn’t actually sorry. In fact, he quite liked the idea of all his favorite foods in one place, but it didn’t seem very politic to say so aloud.

He apologized and patted his stomach/maybe-Number-Fourteen’s-back again when he took a swig of soda for the first time. Number Fourteen gave a jab of annoyance and a very unsuccessful shifting of positions, but other than that the predator didn’t get any further protests from his snack.

“Right then,” the predator mumbled as he leafed through his papers, “I guess the only thing left to do is get started.”

And so he did. The next few hours were nothing but the scratching of his pen and the munching of his chips. His snack was restless for a great deal of it, particularly when the predator swallowed down some soda, but nothing too distracting. It probably helped that the chips and cola barely lasted through the first hour.

When his one hand was free, the predator would rest it distractedly on his middle, appreciating the warmth his slow digestion provided. He could feel, and occasionally hear, his stomach working ever so slowly over the contents within. It was all the same to his stomach— chips, soda, another living being. It plodded along relentlessly with its one job, contracted and breaking down whatever was put into it. It brought a certain kind of awe to the predator, and he loved to help it along with the occasional doting rub.

The predator didn’t notice it happening, but all of a sudden the hour was very late. He stared at the time for a few moments, not quite comprehending how so much of it had already passed. Come to think of it, he thought as he straightened out his now completed pile of paperwork, he hadn’t felt any movement from his snack in quite awhile.

“You still hanging on in there?” the predator asked, pressing his fingers into the curve of his belly. He couldn’t help but cringe as it felt like the form of his snack was much softer than it previously had been.

“Oh dear,” he said softly. And he really had been doing so well with this one.

He was just about to give up and go to bed so his stomach could finish up the job, when he felt the weakest of movement come from deep within his middle.

“Ah, so you are still alive in there!”

As if to exacerbate his point, his snack gave another commendable effort at moving.

“Right, just one moment then,” the predator said, clumsily pushing himself away from his desk and hoisting himself upright again. “Don’t want to dirty up my office, you understand.”

Number Fourteen gave a terrible shudder as the predator began his somewhat uncomfortable walk to the bathroom. The predator cringed again with each step. The contents of his stomach felt somewhat less… solid than when he’d made his earlier trip to the kitchen. He’d really goofed up this time, hadn’t he?

He hesitated once he made it to the bathtub. There was a fine line between lightly simmered in stomach acids but still salvageable versus broken down beyond repair yet still somehow clinging to life. The last thing he wanted was to deal with a quickly expiring snack in his bathtub. He really didn’t think he could manage swallowing them down again after that. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he gave up and just went to bed, letting his stomach finish off Number Fourteen.

The predator frowned as he stroked his hand in circles over the now softened surface of his belly.

Oh, but finding a new snack was so difficult. And he really did enjoy Number Fourteen, even if the boy sorely lacked a sense of humor.

“I really hope you’re not too far gone,” he told his snack with a new sense of resolve.

With a practiced contracting of muscles, the predator began the awfully distasteful process of bringing his snack back up. While he enjoyed keeping his snacks around for as long as possible, he couldn’t say that he quite enjoyed this part of the process. If he could simply make his snack re-appear outside of his stomach, he’d lead a much happier life. But alas. Such are the sacrifices he makes to get what he wants.

After much heaving and gagging, Snack Number Fourteen pushed its way back up the predator’s throat to land in a sloppy heap on the bathtub floor.

The boy groaned as the predator leaned down to inspect him.

“I thought you weren’t gonna let me out this time.” Snack Number Fourteen’s voice was hoarse and he wheezed with each breath.

The predator cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment. The boy really was in the worst shape he’d ever seen.

“Well,” the predator started, looking for the right words, “sorry about that.”

The boy gave him a blood-shot look of pure loathing.

“I really didn’t mean to go this far,” the predator continued, unabated. “I simply got so caught up in my work that I… forgot about you. You know how it is.”

“I really don’t,” the boy replied, sounding much like what the predator imagined sandpaper would sound like if it could speak.

The predator decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to pretend he hadn’t heard his snack. So instead, he grabbed the shower head and reached for the faucet. “Why don’t we get you washed up then?”

The snack let out a startled cry as the cold water washed over his angry, red skin. The predator quietly apologized again, but it was no matter. A minute later and his snack lay motionless, eyes fallen shut with exhaustion as he let the predator clean off all the wayward stomach acid from his skin. The predator was quite adept at this— starting at the top, where the more sensitive skin was, and working his way down. There was something very satisfying about starting the process of restoring his snack all over again. But even after the predator had finished, the boy lay sprawled on the bathtub floor, eyes closed, chest rising and falling.

The predator kept silent. He did feel a little guilty. Not only that, but also a little frustrated. With his snack in this state, it would take weeks for him to be strong enough for another round in his stomach. Perhaps it was karma for the predator’s own hubris. He prided himself on his self-control, but a momentary lapse in focus had left him with his prized Number Fourteen in this horrific state. Maybe it would have been easier if he’d just accepted his loss and gone to bed. At least he could start off with a new snack right away.

The predator gave a mental shrug.

Ah well, no use crying over spilled milk and all that.

“Why don’t we get some aloe on you?” he suggested once he could no longer stand waiting for his snack to come out of whatever state he was in. Patience was a virtue, of course, but it was getting very late and the predator needed his beauty sleep just as much as anyone.

The boy’s eyes flicked open and slid to look at him.

“Fine,” was his only word.

The boy pulled himself out of the tub and took a careful seat on the edge of the closed toilet. The predator did a thorough job slathering him in aloe, something the boy seemed to appreciate.

After a failed attempt at getting the boy to walk back to his room on his own, the predator was forced to carry him there. He wondered if the boy really was so weak from his injuries that he couldn’t stand or if he was only feigning weakness as a sort of punishment for the predator’s neglectfulness. The predator supposed, in a way, this arrangement wasn’t much different than earlier, except now he held his snack in his arms, not his belly.

“Home sweet home,” the predator commented as he pushed his way into Number Fourteen’s room.

The boy began squirming at the sight of it. He made a little sound, like a cross between a groan and a growl.

“I know you’re ecstatic to see it again,” the predator told him. “Especially since you almost didn’t make it back this time.”

The boy stopped squirming. The predator deposited him on the cot at the far end of the room.

“Wait there for a moment, please,” he told the boy before heading out of the room. The boy didn’t respond, he just laid very still on his tiny bed, staring at the ceiling. The predator made sure he locked the door behind him.

He headed to the pantry and pulled out two large plastic bottles of water and another bottle of sports drink for good measure. He was about to make a beeline back to his snack when he stopped. After a night like this, the predator usually waited until the next day to give his snack anymore food, but he had nearly digested the poor boy alive this time. He didn’t want to ruin the perfectly good rapport they had developed over these special months together.

He scanned the pantry shelves for something he could give the boy as an apology. Something that really said, “Sorry I got distracted and nearly sent you on a one-way trip to my bowels.” Even the predator grimaced at such a thought.

He took some time considering all his options, until he settled on what seemed the best one. A halfway finished jar of cocktail peanuts. The jar was halfway empty because they were quite good, and the predator picked it up with a sense of satisfaction, certain he’d made the best choice to demonstrate his deepest condolences.

When he re-entered the room, he found that the boy hadn’t moved from his frankly despondent state on the bed. The predator approached, keeping the peanuts hidden from view, and set one of the water bottles and the sports drink on the wobbly bedside table.

“Get up,” he commanded the boy, prodding him with the other water bottle. “You need to drink. Being burned can leave you very badly dehydrated.” And then he stopped and re-considered. “Or at least sunburns can. I’m not too sure about stomach acid burns as, well, you know, I’ve never had the privilege of being partly digested.”

These words roused the boy. With hiss of pain, he pushed himself into a sitting position and gave the predator one his favorite looks to give— a venomous stare.

He still took the bottle and began chugging the water, stray dribbles running down his cheeks and over his exposed throat.

“I do have something extra for you,” the predator told him, unable to hide his delight. “Something special.”

The boy stopped drink immediately. “What is it?” he asked, sounding almost excited for once.

“Here!” The predator said, unable to wait any longer. He shoved the jar of peanuts toward his snack.

The boy looked down at it and blinked.

“It’s an apology of sorts,” the predator explained. “You know, since I went a little too far this time. I honestly feared you wouldn’t make the night if I let you out, and I almost gave up on you. But look at you now! I’m sure you’ll be ready for another round in no time!”

The boy’s face fell and his eyes went cold and empty. “Thanks,” he said, the word devoid of any of his earlier excitement.

“Of course, my snack,” the predator told him as jovial as ever. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it then.”

Snack Number Fourteen didn’t answer. Only gave him a look of searing hatred, his blood-shot eyes somehow burning brighter than before.

The predator only gave him a reassuring smile as he closed the door.

“Goodnight, my snack. Until next time.”

He locked the door tight behind him.

And in just a few minutes, the predator had fallen into bed, finally letting a real, deep sleep overcome him. Despite a few bumps in the road, tonight had been a very fulfilling night. The only thing left empty now was his stomach, which grumbled quietly, eagerly awaiting the next time it would get to spend a few hours working over Snack Number Fourteen.

[ghoul-slime]

Mushy May Day 2 - Late Night Snacks (Aether/Dew)

Day two of my attempt at an all-Dewther Mushy May! Thanks again to @forlorn-crows for organizing this! I'm having a lot of fun and this has helped me get into the swing of writing again.

Day 2: Late Night Snacks (Aether/Dew), word count: 614, no warnings

It’s become their own personal tour ritual. Once a week, after all the other ghouls have gone to sleep, Aether and Dew will build out a nest in one of their bunks. They drag all their pillows and blankets out and combine them into one, a perfect little movie-watching hideout for them to curl up into while the bus rumbles down the dark highway, off to another far away destination. 

While Dew fusses over the nest, Aether raids the tiny bus kitchen, gathering as many snacks and drinks as he can carry in his arms. Candies and sodas and salty chips. A beer or two to pass back and forth between themselves. Dew insists they stock those big bags of pre-popped popcorn specifically for these nights.

Aether gets back to the bunk just as Dew is propping up his laptop at the far end of the mattress. The little ghoul has everything set up perfectly, as always - blankets and pillows lining the walls, reading light dimmed to a warm glow, he’s even got Aether’s water bottle tucked into the corner of the bunk waiting for him.

Aether dumps their snack spoils onto the sheets and climbs in, settling himself back against the wall and into Dew’s fluffy body pillow, arranged meticulously into a perfect U-shape for him to tuck himself comfortably into.

As soon as Aether settles, Dew pulls the privacy curtain closed, queues up the movie, and hits play.

“Frankenhooker?” Aether questions with a raised eyebrow.

Dew adjusts the volume and scoots down until his back is resting against Aether’s chest, tucked perfectly between his legs.

“Trust me,” Dew assures him with a brilliant grin. “It’s a classic.”

And of course he does. Dew picks the movie every week and has never once steered them wrong. Aether plants a kiss to the crown of his head, settling in with his arms wrapped around the smaller ghoul. He passes him the bag of popcorn and Dew wastes no time tearing it open and cramming a fistful into his mouth.

He presses another kiss to Dew’s head before helping himself to a bag of chips, one arm still slung across the fire ghoul’s middle.

“If you get potato chip crumbs in my hair, I’m gonna bite you,” Dew warns half-jokingly before taking a swig of beer.

Aether laughs. “Don’t worry, if I do, I’ll just pick them out and eat them later. Like a chimpanzee.” He makes a show of pretending to pick bits out of Dew’s hair, smacking his lips as he pretends to eat them.

Dew twists around to look up at Aether incredulously.

“Gross?” He answers, pretty face scrunching up into a grimace.

But Aether can see a little smile already working its way across his lips as soon he turns back to the movie and lays his head down on Aether’s chest, getting comfortable.

And this is what Aether really loves about their movie nights. It’s not the candy or the beer or the trashy horror movies. It’s getting to sit back, hidden away from everyone with his favorite ghoul in his arms. Watching him watch the movie. Admiring the way his eyes crinkle up at the corners when he laughs. How he tells Aether “Watch this, this is my favorite part!” no less than 10 times throughout any given movie. It’s the way Dew lets himself get completely comfortable, unguarded and relaxed in his arms. Sharing all his favorite things with Aether.

Dew watches the movie, and Aether watches Dew.

Later, he dozes off with a belly full of snacks and a cozy little fire ghoul purring contentedly in his lap as the credits begin to roll.

(Frankenhooker IS a classic, and you should definitely watch it)

[fryingpan1234567]

MALCONNOR HEADCANONS I FELL DOWN A RABBITHOLE WHEEE

As much as Connor loves it when Malcolm is serious and distinguished, he loves it more when he lets his walls down and acts like a teenager. When he laughs really hard at a joke Leo’s just told, without hiding his smile with a hand or his shirt collar. When his cheeks are all puffed out like a chipmunk because he’s just shoved half a peanut butter sandwich in his mouth. When Annabeth bestows upon him a pink feathery boa and he’s dancing around the Athena cabin with his siblings, singing along to the Disney Hercules soundtrack, spinning the littles around. Every time Connor sees a moment like that, he falls more in love

Speaking of singing!! They’re both actually decent lol but Malcolm is better— it’s not uncommon to wander past these idiots at any given point in the day and hear them singing some cheesy Disney duet shit like they’re already married

It’s been said before but the Hermes cabin is narrowly beating the Athena cabin for Best Zombie Apocalypse Survival Plan and Connor DOES NOT LET MALCOLM FORGET IT

Connor is more openly flirty, but it’s so easy to get him to blush Malcolm barely has to try

Literally all it takes is one wink from across the room or pressing a kiss to the underside of Connor’s jaw in passing (height difference my beloved) and Connor can’t function for like an hour

The shovel talk both of these two would get Jesus Christ

Malcolm’s favorite pillow is Connor’s chest

Also Connor is the only person who can get Malcolm to step away from his work for much-needed care

Because that dumbass will not sleep and eat for days at a time

Yeah they use pet names but they also call each other Con and Mal (DC and Descendants crossover? No way?)

They’re both fuckin Disney nerds smh (SAME HONESTLY)

Malcolm likes theater and musicals and Connor’s more into Marvel and Star Wars and things like that

Constant teasing, but no harmful pranks or anything like that lol

Malcolm is a morning person. Connor is not.

Most mornings, Con wakes up to Mal laying on top of him just like when they fell asleep, soft music coming from Malcolm’s phone on the nightstand while he reads some book waiting for Connor to wake up

Con is more of a no shirt + sweats kind of pajama person and Mal is more oversized shirt (probably Connor’s) and shorts/ nothing underneath

BOTH OF WHICH, I MIGHT ADD, ARE VERY ATTRACTIVE TO THE OTHER AND IT CAUSES SOME FOCUS PROBLEMS THAT MEAN GETTING READY IN THE MORNINGS TAKES FIVE TIMES LONGER THAN IT NEEDS TO

Malcolm doesn’t drink, but he does get all delirious and shit when he’s super sleep deprived

Connor definitely drinks, but he just gets (somehow) more affectionate than normal

PDA to the max

Sparring!! All the sparring tropes!! It fits them!!

(Pinned to the wall/ ground? Both of them breathing heavily, faces inches apart? Going ‘fuck it’ and making out? USING THAT DISTRACTION TO GET THE UPPER HAND? Please)

The older sibling shadow gets talked about too much but. It’s true

They’re both night owls but Connor lasts longer because Malcolm gets up earlier

Con’s got the longest most complicated coffee order ever and then Mal will just be like “iced black coffee” and Connor’s just. Astounded. Every time

”HOW DO YOU DRINK THAT SHIT?” “It’s good, you’re just not used to it.” “THAT IS SO NASTY.” “Sweetheart, that drink you have could kill you if you get it enough times.” “BABE. NO. THAT WOULD KILL ME AFTER LIKE ONE SIP.”

Coffee dramatics aside, their food taste is actually pretty similar

They like the same snacks and candy and everything, at least

When they’re doin the competitive thing they call each other by their last names

They both would trade each other for a corn chip to win Uno (“DRAW SIX BABY BOY” “I’M BREAKING UP WITH YOU”)

[leffee]

What are your thoughts on if Vinnie was a vampire?

Oh man, oh man, I'm like a kid in a candy store right now, I wanna talk about him :)). First of all I'll just say that the rules for vampires I will present here are just scraps from different sources, but a lot of it is kinda taken from Monster High. Still, if I were you I would just see it as my own rules, not refernecing anything. So yeah, while I will be talking about Vinnie specifically those rules apply to just vampires in general in this au.

I always imagined he's like 2600 years old. He's immortal when it comes to age, as in he ages but can't die of old age alone. Really, only way to kill him is if he doesn't drink enough blood or he's in the sunlight for too long. If that would happen he would simply turn into dust and be essentially dead

yeah, he needs to drink blood on a daily basis to be good, healthy and of course alive. Because the way I imagine this world stuff like that are taken care of in a way because of the population's demands. Blood is essentialy harvested in a controlled manner from often animals or other monsters - it kinda works in the same way as donating blood in our world, though in this case it is of course for drinking. Then this blood is just sold in packs - Capri-sun style

however while they can eat basically anything else too the lust for blood is strong for all vampires, so Vinnie often wants to drink it from others (those who do have blood that is) or sometimes even animals. It's considered a rather normal behaviour but at the same time not many are willing to let him drink from them because by doing this he can 1) drink too much even by accident and make them weaker or in extreme cases die 2) turning others into vampires is not an automatic thing in this world, it's a conscious and controlled one, another condition is that he'd have to drink quite a lot of that person's blood. Still, he technically could turn them into a vampire without their consent

as I mentioned, the sun is very much deadly to him. He carries an umbrella with him everywhere just in case. If it's a short exposure it just causes burns but those still very much hurt. That's also the reason why he's so incredibly pale in this world (I know, I know, my design for human Vinnie is already really pale plus he has those really sharp canines. So when it comes to looks alone there's honestly no difference between the two oop-.)

he can turn into a bat, it's half an age thing, half learning. Anyway, at this point he's really good at it and he essentialy has to put no effort into transforming and so he does it often. Why wouldn't he? He doesn't want to deal with somebody? Turns into a bat and pretends that it's all that is - a bat, not a vampire transformed into a bat. Wants to get somewhere faster since flying is faster than running? Just wants to enjoying being able to fly? Wants to sit on Sunil's shoulder while weighting basically nothing? Turn into a bat!

In this world vampires don't have super strenght and they aren't visible in any sort of reflections - mirrors, windows, any other reflective material; that also extends to photos, videos etc. Their clothes are visible, but when it comes to vampire's body alone nothing can be seen - hair, limbs, face, even small stuff like tongue, eyelashes, nails, nothing. Because of that, Vinnie essentialy doesn't really know what he looks like at any given time. Well, he does have that one sketch from Minka she drew as realistically of him as possible, so he has an idea of what he looks like in general like the color of his eyes or the shape of his face, but since it's not something he can just see for himself, it can only be drawn or described by others, he often forgets those details. On the other hand, him as a bat can be seen in the mirror, so at least there's that

oh, and no, he has not killed anyone by drinking their blood or transformed them into a vampire. Yet. This is just a possibility that is there and can happen. I did have this thought that one time Zoe (who is a werewolf btw) fell in love with some other vampire and her being her Zoe wanted to be a vampire too to you know, be more like her love, so of course she asked Vinnie to turn her. It can go both ways here, he could do it or not, all I know is that he'd be unsure because 1) it's necessary to drink a lot of blood to turn someone into a vampire so what if he drinks too much by an accident and kills her which also stems from 2) he has never turned anyone so he has no experience 3) it's irreversible and it's clear Zoe's doing it very impulsively so what if she changes her mind/falls out of love with that vampire later 4) turning into a vampire is really long and painful and Vinnie doesn't want that for Zoe. Again, this is just a story idea that I never resolved in any way, all I know is that I'd rather have her as a werewolf, not a werewolf who turns into a vampire

Eepy! Just a little, blood-drinking guy.

[steele-soulmate]

Princess of Candy Coated Lies, Modern Royalty AU- King Peter Steele & Single Mother OFC, Soulmate AU

Chapter 11

SUMMARY: Single mother Molly Anne Harper does the best she can do, given her circumstances- since she broke up with her ex-boyfriend by sending him to jail, she’s been struggling to be the best mother to twin daughters while working barely minimum waged jobs. But when she meets her soulmate- King Peter Thomas Ratajczyk of Brooklyn- she quickly finds herself falling heads over heels in love with the guarded, battle damaged ruler. Likewise, Peter finds himself with a family of a women and two little girls who call him daddy. But what happens when their father gets out from behind bars and starts to cause mayhem?

A Soulmate AU where you never know what the first words your soulmate says to you until they say it

STORY WARNINGS: mentions of domestic violence (nothing graphic) mentions of spousal abuse (nothing graphic)

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS: This fic is dedicated to SkullWoggle on AO3 and @rock-a-noodle on Tumblr.

WORD COUNT: 1245

When I had wandered downstairs into the kitchen, I found the king eating a bowl of cereal while he scanned the news on his cell phone.

“The girls aren’t up yet?” I asked him in a soft voice before heading over to the pantry to grab the pancake mix.

“I poked my head into their bedroom before I came down,” he shrugged. “I think they were just starting to wake up.”

“Ah.” My mommy senses went off just then, telling me that my twins had just gotten out of bed and were on their way up to our bedroom, clearly on the hunt for morningtime snuggles.

“Sweetheart, I do hope you don’t mind, but I printed some stuff out on a couple of schools for the girls to attend after the new year,” he explained, pushing three stapled together packets to me. “I can set up tours if you want. And until then, we can homeschool the girls, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” I hummed as I turned to hauling the king’s waffle iron out of the cupboard that held the small electric appliances such as the toaster, a blender and various cast iron pans. “Were you ever homeschooled?”

“Yes, when I broke my arm when I was in the third grade, and had to get surgery to weld in an iron rod,” he told me, rolling up his sleeve to show me a faded scar. “My mom and sisters all homeschooled me while I was in the hospital.”

“What on earth did you do to break your arm?” I asked him as the sound of the girls skipping and sliding along on the wood floor reached my ears.

“I punched Pamela’s abusive then now ex-boyfriend in the face and completely shattered his ugly nose,” he shrugged before smiling as the girls skidded into the room. “Good morning, Aria! Good morning, Evie!”

“Good morning, daddy!” Aria chirped, jumping into her claimed seat at the kitchen island across from her sister, who sat next to the king. “Me and Evie went up to give you and mommy morning cuddles, but I guess you were already up.”

So we snuggled daddy’s kitties, Evie shrugged nonchalantly as I pulled out a mixing bowl.

Which kitties? the king asked using shaky hands to communicate with the deaf little girl.

I turned back to whipping up the pancake batter, listening as Aria stepped in to translate from time to time, bringing a peaceful smile to my face as I built a tall tower of waffles on a plate.

I called the twins over to me, asking them to get down dishes and set the kitchen island for breakfast, using up the last of the pancake mixture into the waffle maker, humming a soft little song as Evie opened the refrigerator and pulled out a tray of jars filled with syrup.

“Blue is blueberry, red is maple, yellow is honey, and green is fruit,” the king explained as he accepted his giant platter from Aria before helping the girls to half a waffle each, cutting the food into tiny bite sized pieces for them.

“You spoil them,” I told him point blank as I slid into a seat next to Aria and stabbed at a waffle with my fork.

“Sweetheart, let me spoil my girls. They won’t be this small for much longer,” he told me, shrugging sheepishly as he finished up his task, sliding Aria her plate with a gentle smile on his face.

“Sometime this weekend, can we return to our old apartment and empty it out?” I asked him. “I should grab their girls’ birth certificates and a few other things.”

“Of course,” he answered with a wolfish grin as he guzzled his waffles in honey syrup. “Will I need to rent a U-Haul truck or do you think you’ll be able to pack everything into the back of my Doom Buggy?”

“I think we can pick up some boxes of Home Depot later on today while we’re looking at paint colors and then I can pack up the apartment,” I answered him with a simple shrug. “I think if I pack the back of your Doom Buggy like a game of Tetris, I should be able to squeeze everything in.”

“You sure, sweetheart?” he asked me with a gentle hum. “I don’t mind sending the money, if that’s what you’re worried about. Also, do you think I should rent a storage locker to keep the boxes in for now?”

“No, I think we have five or six boxes worth of stuff totaled up all together,” I reassured him. “I think we can just pile everything into an unused bedroom just for right now.”

“Mommy, will you get your sewing machine?” Aria wondered after swallowing her mouthful.

“I would be a fool not to!” I answered before offering the king with a quick explanation. “Every three or so years, we go shopping for school clothes at the neighborhood GoodWill. I buy them stuff in sizes that are a bit bigger than they are, then I sew them so that the girls grow into them, as a manner of speaking.”

“Sweetheart, if the girls need absolutely anything at all- be it shoes, a backpack for school, snow parkas, winter mittens, summer dresses, beach sandals or absolutely anything at all, please tell me and I will buy them for you,” Peter immediately offered me, reaching across for another waffle. “I insist. Let me care for my girls, alright?”

Let me care for my girls

I smiled as his words nudged at my sheltered heart, and found myself yearning for more… more.. more…

Is this what love felt like?

Well, if this is what love feels like, I thought as I watched the king affectionately cutting another waffle into smaller bits for Evie, Aria having bussed her plate into the dishwasher after it rinsing off and setting it into the dishwasher. I want to feel this feeling again… and again… and again…

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE it only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noolde

@elianafilthyrose

@ch3rry-c01a

@rockstarslutt

@angelxfuckk

[tamerajedwards]

Sunday morning blog- update on Mom 5-28-22

It is Memorial weekend and I wish we were out placing flowers on the gravesides of our loved ones, including working on Dads headstone but life took a different turn.

It is day 7 of Moms recovery ❤️‍🩹. She became septic (that’s when infection enters the bloodstream from a given location in your body and travels everywhere and could damage or shut down your organs and even cause death ) and we aren’t sure which infection caused it but the doctor is leaning towards her ear infection. Btw if your loved one ever seems confused take them to the doctor immediately because it could be an infection.

Mom is settled into Parkridge Care/rehab Center in Pleasant Hill. It’s just a couple of blocks from my place. She has a sweet little old lady roommate named Ruby who is very kind and I found her sitting with a bag of almond joy candy bars in her lap when we arrived. She was hunched over and making noises half asleep as we brought mom in. I thought oh dear.. but to my surprise she perked up and started talking to my sister and I and is smart and coherent as a whip. She is a great roommate for mom and looks after her. We love 💕 her already and look after her too. She loves looking out at the birds all day long.

Mom was not fond about being here but she is still very very weak and needs cared for including feeding. She doesn’t eat much and pushes the fork away when I try to feed her although she does love 💕 orange 🍊 juice and milk! Her vitals are good. She has asked if we called her sister Diane to wish her happy birthday and I had to let her know that Diane is in heaven with her parents. The confusion is still there. When sepsis hits the brain and organs this can happen ugh BUT we are believing God will get us through this. He is faithful! She made it through two heart surgeries and now this so I know she’ll pull through. She’s a stubborn lady with great determination! She loves God and has a family who loves her deeply!

My sister Danny is a saint! She is with mom most of the time and I take 4-6 hour shifts when I can. I’m running between mom and helping out with my grand kids and the odd jobs I hold down.

I am grateful for the Mercy Hospital staff as well as the Parkridge staff who have taken amazing care of our mother. We would be lost without all of them.

I put my massage therapy skills to use and brought lotion in to massage her legs this morning. I did that for my grandmother when she was in hospital. Physical touch is so extremely important.

Times like this remind me of how short and precious life is. When I leave a hospital or care facility I open the door and walk into the sunshine 🌞 thanking God that in still young enough to feel good, enjoy life, run and play. But I’m reminded that not too far off in the future this will be me. I can only pray that people will be there for me when I’m old and ailing ready to depart this world and meet my Savior. The journey isn’t easy but God promises us grace all the way through. Be blessed my friends. I love you all. Thank you for the continued prayers. Xo T ❤️

[just-some-toad]

Domestic

Uvogin x GN!Reader

Just a short and sweet warmup to get me in the writing mood so I can work on the dragon Uvogin piece that's plaguing my google docs.

Tags: Fluff / Slightly steamy at end / Implied NSFW

Word Count: 1,505

To say you were tired would be an understatement. 

Fatigue pulls from behind your eyes as you will yourself up the steps of your home. The weight of many days of hunter work falling heavy on your shoulders as you fight to keep your eyes open. You were adjusted to long hours of often odd work. But these past two and a half weeks were packed with strenuous activity, leaving little room for rest

Now standing before the door, you numbly fumble through the many keys that laden your keyring. Once you find the house key and unlock the door, relief washes over you. Crossing the threshold, you’re hit with a pungent aroma. The scent of citrus mixed and hints of bleach intertwine in the air. The pleasant surprise awakens you slightly as you remove your shoes. 

While locking the door, you take in the dimly lit space. Everything is neat and tidy. No trash or misplaced items in sight. It was as if nobody was here while you were gone. Which wouldn't be too surprising, given both you and your boyfriend often left to answer the call of work. Leading to days of being "out and about" depending on the details. This was something you expected. But it seems that's not the case this time; given the smell of recently used cleaning products and the faint snoring coming from your bedroom.

You walk to the stairs leading to the second floor where your bedroom is, wanting nothing more than to shower before succumbing to sleep. As you ascend the steps, you notice more things that have been tidied.

He cleaned up, and did a damn good job.

A soft smile lifts your face as the thought of Uvogin doing a deep clean warms you. This was a first for him. He wasn't a complete slob- well at least not anymore. Many times he has supplemented you in the upkeep of your living space. Ranging from but not limited to: fixing something (that he most likely broke), to cleaning the areas out of your reach, to taking up chores just because he felt like it. Whatever it was, you appreciated it. 

Just as he learned you thrived in an organized environment, you learned that he is a sucker for words of affirmation. Which you sometimes found funny since he was already proud and oh so sure of himself; not needing approval from anyone. But he seemed to eat your kind words up like it was candy.

Your mind goes back to one instance in particular. 

Back when you were struggling to get him to break his habit of stripping and just throwing his clothes anywhere. He had surprised you not only by placing his dirty clothes in the hamper, but taking them to the laundry room, and placing them in the wash. At the time you were in the living room sitting on the couch, previously watching a movie but then engaged by the sight. He joined you on the couch afterwards, laying on his back while using your thighs as a pillow. Still, you stared at him.

"What?"

"You just washed your clothes." You glide one hand through his hair, rubbing circles on his scalp. The other cups his face, thumb stroking his jaw. "Good boy."

That was the first time you saw him blush without the influence of liquor.

That also led to the first time he broke your couch.

But it gave way to a cleaner house and less of a workload on you. Whether he genuinely wanted to help out or if it all was a ploy to hear your praise, you couldn't completely discern. Whatever the reason, the outcome left you pleased.

The door to the bedroom is wide open, from the hall, you can see Uvogin's sleeping figure. He's sprawled out across the bed, on his back. Position akin to that of a starfish. He takes up most of the huge bed, as usual. Even still, the sight is welcoming. You yearn to crawl to his side and curl into him. But the siren's call of the shower is strong. Just the thought of hot water running over your sore muscles is soothing.

Not wanting to disturb his slumber, you quietly walk into the room. Immediately you begin stripping until you are in your underclothes, gathering the items and placing them in a nearby hamper. You feel a slight chill and look at the ceiling fan, watching it go at full speed. He has always preferred it on the cooler side and you see why, the man practically radiated heat. You missed cuddling with him on the nights when you're apart. No blanket, pillow, or heating pad could compare.

You float around the room, gathering night clothes and other things for your shower. Engulfed into what you're looking for, you didn't hear his snore slowly come to a stop. Neither do you see the fluttering of his lashes as his eyes open, vision hazed by sleep. You only notice he's awake when he speaks.

"You're back."

You stop what you're doing and turn to look at Uvogin, who is now laying on his side. You walk over to the bed and offer a kind smile. Tenderly, you reach for one of his hands, bringing his knuckles to your lips in a chaste kiss. Wanting more, he takes a hold of your wrist and yanks your arm. He wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him and enveloping you in his warmth.

Without a word, you wrap your arms around his neck. The two of you lean into each other and your lips meet. After a few beats, you pull away.

"I missed you." You say softly.

"I missed you." He brushes your lips against yours. "Damn Hunter's Association keeping you away from me for so long."

You bring one of your hands around to his chest, languidly trailing fingers across his skin. Briefly glancing over old scars and marks.

"Just like your work keeps you away from me?"

"Mm." 

One of his hands rises to your face, thumb caressing your cheek. You close your eyes, reveling in his touches, his scent, the heat of his embrace. All of these things you missed while away. There were brief breaks where you had some time to yourself and not focus on whatever task at hand. In these fleeting moments you let your mind drift to him; thoughts often ending in scenarios like this. Simply seeing his face, hearing his voice, and breathing him in.

"Thank you." You say wistfully. "For taking care of things while I was gone. The house looks nice."

"Mhm."

You open your eyes to see a smirk pulling at his mouth. His heavy lidded eyes seem to glow. Whether it is due to the dark or your sleep deprived mind, you didn't know. But you knew one thing; if he keeps looking at you like this, you aren't going to get that shower anytime soon. 

"You didn't dismember someone and clean the house as a cover up, did you?" Even though the question comes out as a joke, there's an underlying tone of seriousness in your voice. Although he does keep criminal activity away from home to not draw attention, the probability of  a “mishap” is likely.

"If I did?"

"Then you did a good job. Getting rid of the mess, that is.”

He dips down to lick your bottom lip, probing for entrance. You allow it, parting your lips. With a tilt of his head, his mouth presses into yours. Hungrily, he overpowers your tongue with his. Eager hands roam your body, earning a moan from you. The longer he kisses you, the more your mind fogs and the more your resolve melts.

Only does his hold on you break when he abruptly and firmly grabs your ass, making you squeak as you push away. 

"Ruffian." You tease. "I don't think I have it in me right now. I'm tired."

"Let me take care of you then. I usually put you to sleep anyway."

You laugh as he leans in again. Using a hand to smush his lips, you try to stop his incoming assault. 

"You aren't tired?" 

"I was. But now you're here and I don't want to sleep. I want you."

It would be a lie to deny wanting him as well.

"Wouldn't you rather me take a shower first?"

"You're really gonna ask me that?"

You pause, thinking back to the times he came home from a run with the troupe. It was no surprise to see blood staining his clothes. Even in those times, your clothes were being ripped off minutes after him walking through the front door.

Shooting a playful smile, you move closer to him. Your greedy hands are making busy work of searching his skin in mindless touches. As you continue to lay pressed into him, you can feel your need for him flaring in intensity. 

"No, it can wait. Besides, you would just get me dirty again."

[nocturnalrat]

sugar rush [oneshot]

Summary: Here’s the thing about Bakugo and Uraraka: They are both as competitive as they are stubborn. (Or: Bakugo and Uraraka end up eating Twizzlers competitively.) 

Words: 937

It was late, and Bakugo was on his way to his room when he heard the words that made him stop in his tracks.

 "Man, Uraraka, I really don't think anyone can eat as much candy as you."

 He looked towards the common room and saw Kaminari and Uraraka sitting together on the couch. They seemed to have been studying together for the upcoming math test, since various books and notes were scattered everywhere in the room. 

 "In your next life, your quirk will probably be the ability to eat an infinite amount of candy. Your name will be Candy Crush or something.”

 "That's lame," Uraraka replied. "Besides, I already have that ability."

 Bakugo rolled his eyes. "Do you even know how unhealthy that stuff is?" he asked, unable to stop himself. Seeing her get worked up over him was always amusing.

Uraraka looked up in surprise when she heard his voice, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Look who's talking, Mr. Zero Percent Body Fat. Not everyone can have taste.”

 "You call that tasty?"

 "Try it," Uraraka said, and before Bakugo could stop her, she had jumped up and shoved one of her candies into his mouth.

 "What the hell?" Whatever she had given him felt like licorice in its texture, and tasted like strawberry. 

 "Well?" She raised an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly.

 "It tastes..." He frowned. It actually tasted good. Too artificial maybe, but good nonetheless. "Edible," was all he said.

 "You’ve never had Twizzlers before?" she asked incredulously.

 He shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said. Shit’s unhealthy."

 A mischievous grin appeared on Uraraka’s face. She and Bakugo had a habit of making bets and fighting against each other all the time; she had lost the last bet (it had been a race and Bakugo had had his stupid quirk advantage that helped him win).

 And she hated to lose, just as Bakugo did. This was the opportunity to even the score again.

 "I bet you can’t eat as much candy as me.” 

 Bakugo glared at her. She knew he would never refuse a bet; he was too proud for that.

 "You’re a lightweight," he said. "Prepare to be crushed."

 Always the dramatic one.  

 "I wouldn't be so sure of that," Kaminari's voice came from the couch. Uraraka had almost forgotten he was in the room, too.  "Her body has become accustomed to sugar. Yours, on the other hand..." He left the sentence unfinished in the air.

 Bakugo snatched the candy bag from her hand.

 "Five minutes," she said, addressing Kaminari. "Count the time. Whichever of us manages to eat more Twizzlers in five minutes wins."

 She would win, of that she was sure.

 "You guys ready?" asked Kaminari.

 The two sat across from each other on the floor, the countless packets of candy in front of them.

 Instead of an answer, the two just nodded in determination.

 "All right. Ready, set, go."

 It came as expected - Uraraka easily devoured the licorice sticks. The more time passed, the more restless Bakugo became. You could tell by the look on his face that he was already getting sick after finishing the first package.

 "This is stupid," he muttered between bites.

 "Half the time is up," Kaminari said.

 Uraraka grinned in victory. "You should learn to turn down bets. It was obvious that you had no chance of winning."

 "Shut up," Bakugo grumbled. She was in the lead, and it was frustrating.  

 "Three minutes are over,” Kaminari noted. 

 "You can't always be the best," Uraraka continued, still grinning.

 And then Bakugo had an idea.

 He would win - but to do so, he would have to play dirty.

 "Are you made of sugar, or how come you’re so sweet?"

 The words had the desired effect. Uraraka froze, her eyes grew wide, and she had a coughing fit. "What?" Her voice sounded a little strangled.

 Kaminari's eyes widened as well, but he seemed to understand immediately what Bakugo's plan was.

 "You're so sweet, no wonder all that sugar doesn't affect you."

 Uraraka was speechless - and completely forgot that they had a bet going on.

 “I – what?”

 The blush on her face was endearing.

 Bakugo had to keep distracting her.

 "Mochi face," Bakugo said. "Your face is so round and cute, your hero name should be Mochi."

 "Four minutes," Kaminari said, but Uraraka barely noticed him.

 Bakugo suddenly remembered one of the many bad jokes Kaminari used to say. He briefly wondered if he was laying it on too thick, but then decided to just go for it. Uraraka still had to remain too shocked and distracted to continue eating.

 He leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “Are you a sugar maple tree? Because I would totally tap that.”

 Kaminari snorted, and Uraraka blushed so hard that Bakugo feared for a moment that she had forgotten how to breathe.

 "Time's up," Kaminari said, still laughing. “Bakugo won.”

 The sentence snapped her out of her state of shock. "What?" she turned to Kaminari, her brow furrowed, and then back to Bakugo. "You cheated!"

 "Not my fault you're so easily distracted," Bakugo grinned.

 Uraraka pouted and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You suck."

 "Cheer up, roundface." Bakugo confidently rose from the ground. "You can't always be the best."

 She stuck her tongue out at him.

 Bakugo laughed.

 She was going to get back at him - and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't already looking forward to it.

[fireflykaizoku]

Heya! I know you’ve done 3 soulmate fics now, but with the sort of angsty feel with Mimi-ya’s request I was wondering if a Katakuri x reader, in regards to the age difference he had given up hope that it was even possible for him to have happiness outside of his family, would make for a good read and also possibly dangerous for reader to come face to face with Big Mom and all those siblings! Thank you x

Hii! i'm sorry i took long to finish it, but i kept watching OP and reading more about Katakuri, since it's my first time writing for him. Since i'm still on episode 850, i was afraid it'd be a bit ooc. If it is, i'm so sorry! my writing for Katakuri will improve as i finish the arc. I hope you like it anyway, it was fun to write it ❤

Your family was rich and well-known around the Grand Line. Being the only daughter, they were trying to find a husband for you, a political marriage that could be good for both families, especially yours. They had a list of potential husbands, but you didn’t bother checking it since you were too focused on your birthday party. It was a small party, just with close friends and family, but you wanted everything to be perfect.

And it was. You had so much fun around people you loved, it was hard to fall asleep after that; you were genuinely happy.

Before opening your eyes, you could already feel the sweet smell, something like candy, donuts or cake. Thinking it was maybe a belated birthday breakfast, you opened your eyes and was ready to jump out of the bed when you realized the bedroom was completely different from yours. And as soon as you looked down, you realized that body definitely wasn’t yours. The toned chest, tattoos and the scarf around your neck weren’t yours.

You could only feel happiness and relief, you were glad you already switched bodies with your soulmate. Who knew it’d be that fast? But you wanted to see more of him, so you got up and started looking for a mirror in his room. The reflection surprised you at first, not being the kind of soulmate you expected to have. He had tattoos, crimson hair, and apparently was very tall. In fact, he was huge. When you put the scarf down a little, you noticed he had scars, and you assumed that’s why he covered his mouth. He also had fangs, which you thought were extremely charming. He wasn’t ugly, in fact, he was far from that. He was very handsome. Intimidating, of course. But very handsome.

Looking around, you found a vest, and on the back, you noticed “Charlotte” written on it.

— Charlotte? — you whispered to yourself, thinking you’ve seen that name somewhere until you finally realized after a couple of minutes.

— He’s one of Big Mom’s son!

You remember when your parents were trying to find a husband for you, his name came up a couple of times. It was probably Charlotte Katakuri. You’ve never seen any pictures of him, but you knew he was a very strong and powerful man.

After a couple of minutes just looking at his figure in the mirror, admiring his traits, a knock on the door brought you back to reality.

— Katakuri-sama, it’s almost time for Big Mom’s tea party. — someone said, outside the room before leaving right away.

You heard about the famous Tea Parties, but you didn’t even know how to behave. You knew there would be so many people, powerful people, and some probably well known as well, so you couldn’t take the risk of things going wrong.

You couldn’t describe the relief you felt when you noticed a den den mushi in the corner of the room. Perfect! You’d call him, explain everything and hopefully he’d be there just in time for the party.

It took a couple of minutes, but finally someone answered. You got quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say.

— Charlotte Katakuri? — you asked, a bit nervous.

— It’s me. I assume you’re (L/N) (F/N)? — you hummed in response. — I see you’re my soulmate and we switched bodies.

— Yes, and you have a Tea Party to attend today. Do you think we can switch back before then?

— Unfortunately, no. Your island is quite far from the Whole Cake Island. Can you go instead? You’ll just have to sit without saying anything. It won’t last too long, and when it’s over you go straight to your room.

— But what if… I need to fight? I don’t know how to… — he interrupted you.

— Don’t worry, it shouldn’t have an attack. But if anything happens, look for Brûlée and explain everything. I’ll be there before the sunrise, and we’ll be able to switch back, hopefully.

He seemed so calm even in a situation like this. But following his advice, you went to the party. It was fun and there was delicious food everywhere, but you couldn’t disrespect your soulmate and remove the scarf off. Maybe when you switch back you can ask Katakuri to let you eat a few.

You started sweating whenever Big Mom or any of his kids got near you, trying to talk. So to avoid raising any suspicions, you just nodded the whole time. And whenever you heard a fuss, your soul felt like it’d leave your body, worried it’d be a confront. If you had to fight today, acting like Katakuri, you wouldn’t know what to do.

You were hungry, but too shy to ask for anything. As if someone heard your thoughts, a few small men knocked on your door, bringing donuts. Not just two or three, but many donuts. They bowed and left quickly.

After eating half of it, you fell asleep. You were very anxious since you’d meet your soulmate in a few hours, but your eyelids got heavier and you couldn’t fight the sleep anymore. You woke up a few hours later with someone gently tapping your arm. When you opened your eyes, you realized Katakuri had arrived.

You were still sleepy, and sat on the bed, rubbing your eyes until you actually felt awake. The height difference was quite a lot, and it was funny. You had to sit on the floor so the two of you would be face to face.

— Hello, Katakuri. — you felt incredibly shy now.

— Good morning. — he tried to hide the fact he was embarrassed, and was hoping you couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

— This… Is it the time when we kiss?— you suggested, looking away. Would he think you were being too straightforward?

— Yes… We should… Kiss.

You pulled the scarf down slowly with your now cold hands. You closed your eyes, feeling very nervous. You kissed a few times before, but it still felt like something new. Especially now that it wasn’t just a random person, it was your soulmate.

Noticing you were waiting for him to make a move, he moved closer, sealing your lips together. Just a peck at first, until you gave him permission to deepen the kiss. Both of you were shy, and the kiss was a bit clumsy. Maybe he haven’t had many kisses too.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to realize you two had switched back, his big and strong hands holding your face was a sign that it worked. You rested your head on his hand, looking at him with eyes full of admiration and a soft smile on your lips.

— Aren’t you… Scared or disgusted? — he asked, feeling insecure now that his face was exposed to you.

— Why would I be? — you genuinely asked, smiling softly.

— Because… Of my mouth. I’m not how you probably wanted your soulmate to look like, and I don’t want you to think you have to put up with me because we’re soulmates. Now that we switched back, you can go if you want to. — his voice didn’t seem angry, as if he was demanding you to leave. It sounded sad, as if he had been through a lot.

You heart ached just to think that someone had the courage to hurt your soulmate.

Little did you know that many people treated him differently, not wanting to be around him or making fun of him because of his appearance; little did you know that while most of his siblings found their soulmates already, and he spent most of his life thinking he didn’t deserve his other half. Little did you know that he gave up on finding someone and started to deal with the fact that only his family would be able to love him.

But now, after meeting you, he threw his rational self out of the window. He felt like he could love someone; marry someone for a reason other than just a political marriage. But would you want him just like he wants you?

— We switched back, right? — you caressed his face softly. He wasn’t expecting it, no one has ever been this gentle with him before. — That means we’re in love.

— I don’t want you to be with someone like me, you’d only be in danger. — he turned his face not to see you. — You wouldn’t be able to deal with my siblings. It won’t be like playing house, and it won’t be like the marriage you might be expecting.

You got quiet, taking a deep breath. He wouldn’t push you away easily. Katakuri noticed your silence, and was expecting you to leave the room, agreeing that life with him wouldn’t be the perfect calm life you probably wanted. Instead, before he could even use his haki to have a glimpse of the future, you turned his face and pecked his lips.

— I won’t give up so easily. — you crossed your arms. — You’re my soulmate and I won’t leave you just because you think I can’t deal with a dangerous lifestyle. I want you, and if you want me too… We can make this work.

Looking at your face that was looking at him with love in your eyes, how could he say “no”? Maybe Big Mom would be willing to accept this relationship and give her blessing, and his siblings would be happy for him. He could even pretend it was all because of your family and their power at first.

His stomach started growling before he could say anything.

— I’m sorry, I only ate a few donuts while I was in your body. — you felt a little embarrassed about what you were about to ask. — But I wanted to eat some of the sweets yesterday. Do you think… — he didn’t let you finish the question.

— You can have the sweets, I’ll ask to get them delivered for breakfast. — he covered his face with the scarf again. — For now, you should sleep. We’ll have a long day meeting my family tomorrow.

[alienguts]

Anniversary (Ash Williams x f!Reader)

Summary: Ash has forgotten his and Y/N's anniversary.

Warnings: Mild angst with a fluffy ending.

Request?: No

A/N: I forgot that the 15th was The Evil Dead's 40th anniversary so I whipped this up quick.

The delicious smell of frying bacon wafting in from the kitchen greeted Ash when he woke up. Sunlight glittered into the room through a crack in the curtains, shining onto his face as he stretched his body out and his eyes fluttered open. Y/N didn’t cook breakfast very often, only for special occasions, but Ash couldn’t think of why she would be making bacon when it wasn’t his birthday. He wasn’t going to complain, though.

He got out of bed and pulled on the T-shirt he took off the night before and made his way into the kitchen, where he found Y/N in front of the stove. The radio played a chipper pop song that she tapped her foot in time to as she pushed bacon and eggs around the sizzling frying pan. Ash crept up behind her, his bare feet softly padding on the wooden floor, and snaked his arms around her, making sure to not scare her or make her burn either of them on the pan.

“Morning, baby,” she said cheerfully when he kissed her bare shoulder softly before resting his head there.

“Morning,” he responded, his voice still husky with sleep. “What’s the occasion?”

“You didn’t forget, did you?” she asked him, but she already knew that he had.

“Forget what?” She set her spatula down and turned the stove off before heaving a loud sigh.

“Our anniversary,” she said bluntly. “I reminded you all week, I can’t believe you forgot.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, trying to keep her in his arms but failing when she wiggled out of his hold to plate up their food. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s fine, Ash. You don’t need to do anything,” Y/N said dejectedly when she placed Ash’s plate on the table.

“But I want to do something for you,” Ash protested. “Lemme get you something nice, it’s the least I can do.”

“The least you can do is just remember our anniversary,” she said, sadness starting to seep into her voice. “Eat your breakfast, we’ll both be late for work.”

Ash always enjoyed Y/N’s cooking, but he couldn’t enjoy it with so much guilt weighing down on him. He didn’t want her to think that he didn’t care about their relationship, but he really had forgotten their anniversary. The bacon tasted good but it felt like he was chewing on cardboard when he watched Y/N leave the apartment for work without saying goodbye to him.

Guilt lay heavily in Ash’s stomach during his entire shift. He couldn’t focus on his work properly: he’d dropped things, tripped over his own feet, and given the wrong advice to a customer. Thankfully, his co-worker noticed that something was up and told him that they’d cover for him.

On his way out of S-Mart, he picked up a box of Y/N’s favourite candies and a bouquet of flowers before using one of the payphones outside to order dinner for the two of them. He remembered that she was scheduled to get home half an hour after him so he was able to surprise her with his apology.

You can remember her shift schedule but not your anniversary? Some boyfriend you are, Williams, he thought.

Butterflies turned his stomach in knots on the drive home so he turned the car radio up to drown out his thoughts. Y/N had told him that he didn’t need to make it up to her, and he knew that she wasn’t the kind of person to hold grudges but he really wanted to show her that he was sorry for forgetting their anniversary.

Once he was home, Ash changed out of his work clothes and took a quick shower before answering the door for the food delivery. He found a seldom-used tablecloth in one of the kitchen drawers and draped it over the table before setting the table neatly and lighting two candles.

When Y/N arrived home, she still wasn’t in the best mood. She’d told her co-worker all about Ash forgetting their anniversary and may have shed a couple of frustrated tears in the process. Her co-worker had given her the advice to ‘dump him’ but she didn’t think it was that serious. It was only one forgotten anniversary out of the two they’d had and she didn’t think it was worth breaking up over. By tomorrow you’ll both have forgotten about the whole thing she told herself as she opened the front door to their apartment.

The lights were turned down low inside and the unmistakable smell of Chinese takeout filled the small room. She found Ash sitting at the kitchen table, an apologetic look on his face.

“What’s all this?” she asked him as she approached the table.

“It’s me making it up to you,” he said softly. He reached under his chair and produced a bouquet of her favourite flowers, then stood up to give them to her.

“Ash, I told you that you didn’t need to make it up to me,” she said after smelling one of the flowers.

“I know you did, but I want you to know that I really am sorry for forgetting.”

Y/N put the bouquet down on her chair and enveloped Ash in a hug. She rested her cheek on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat and inhaling the fresh scent of his shower gel. Ash wrapped his arms around her smaller frame and laid his head on top of hers, running his flesh palm up and down his back.

“I’m sorry for forgetting, baby,” he whispered into her hair.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said into his chest. “It was only one anniversary, it’s no big deal.”

“Maybe not, but I still should have remembered.” Y/N pulled away from his chest and leaned up on her toes to kiss him delicately.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” he asked coyly.

“Of course it does,” she said against his lips before kissing him again.

“Does it mean that you still love me?”

“I never stopped loving you and I’m not going to stop.”

[please-buckme]

A Broken Heart.

Chapter 1

Lee Bodecker x fem!reader

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of sex, 18+,hitting, sad shit, break up, heart break, angst, cursing

Chapter Summary: reader and Lee breakup.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2 //Chapter 3

The world felt as if it were shattering around you, crumbling beneath your feet like the rapture was upon you. Honestly, if the world did come to an end right now you’d be elated. At least you wouldn’t have to deal with your broken heart anymore.

You sat against a wall in your room, wallowing in your own self petty. It’d be three days since Lee Bodecker had broken things off with you. He had said that you were hurting his campaign, that he still loved you but needed a woman of power to help him become sheriff of this godforsaken town.

Lee had taken you out in the same field he took you to every time y’all made love. He kissed you so passionately, held you so closely. If you weren’t so caught up in the way his hands felt against your bare skin, you would’ve noticed how distraught he was the entire time he made love to you. It was his way of saying goodbye before he actually said goodbye. After he’d broken up with you, you felt disgusting and violated.

You’d never felt like that with Lee. He was your deputy and sinner in disguise. He was your rock and your soft place to fall. When the tears finally fill, the most empty feeling you’d ever felt emerged in your gut. One day you thought you were gonna be Mrs. Lee Bodecker. You daydreamed constantly of your wedding day and sharing a bed with the man you loved for the rest of your life ‘til you were old and gray. To know now that dream will always remain a dream.. that’s what hurt the most.

After Lee drove you home, you sat in your room for three days straight, not even coming out for supper. Your momma tried to convince you to eat and it worked once on the second day, until you threw up right after.

She didn’t understand. She’d never been in love, not really. Not love like you and Lee had. People told y’all all the time how rare and beautiful your love for one another was and you agreed. Just looking back on those memories made you sick. You listened in awe of how beautiful your love was not knowing Lee would only break your heart days later.

Today was Sunday, the lord's day, and usually you never wanted to go to church, but today you really didn’t want to go. The whole town, including Lee and his new arm candy, would be there. It’s the first time you’d be seeing Lee since he dropped you off. It was too soon, especially since you knew he’d already moved on.

As you sat with your head between your knees, your momma barged through your bedroom door.

“Jesus, girl. Why aren’t you up and ready to go? Church starts in an hour and you aren’t gonna make me late again.” She stomped over to your closet and shuffled through your dresses.

“Momma.. I- I’m not ready. I can’t see… him with her. I just ain’t ready for that kinda humiliation.” You sighed, trying to reason with your Bible-thumpin momma.

“Oh, no. You’ve embarrassed me enough this week. Disappearin’ for three whole days over a boy? You’re pathetic. You know, back in my day, we didn’t get to sit around and sulk the days away. No. We had to carry on like everything was fine and that’s what you’re gonna do. Now, get dressed.” She threw you a dress, one of your favorites actually. It was a teal blue, babydoll dress that you usually saved for special occasions, but you weren’t feeling very special at the moment and now you were just pissed off.

You stood and came face-to-face with your momma, “I’m not going. You have no idea how I feel. You can’t. You’ve never felt love the way we had it, Momma. No one ever loved you or me the way I love Lee. You couldn’t possib-“

Just then you felt a sharp sting against your cheek as your momma slapped you across the face.

“Not. Another. Word. You will be dressed and waitin for me at the car in ten minutes. No poutin’ and no sulkin’ in the pews. I don’t wanna hear another word about that boy.” She turned to exit your room but turned around to give you one last dig to the heart, “And, honey, a man in love would never have done what he did to you. Remember that next time you wanna preach to me about love.” With that she left your room. Your cheek still stung from the unexpected hit to the face. Your momma was cruel but she’d never hit you before.

The slap, in a way, was kind of refreshing. For a split second you’d totally forgotten about Lee. Only for a second, though. His crystal blue eyes and cheshire lips never leave your thoughts completely. You shook your head in defeat, trying to erase him from your mind. It didn’t work, but you took a deep breath and began getting ready.

//

The church parking lot was full when you and your momma pulled in. Rickety old trucks to brand spankin new, brightly colored cars littered the dusty lot. You spotted Lee’s car immediately, thankfully he was already inside.

The whole town came to this church, which wasn’t that many people. Nevertheless, everybody knew everybody and, even if you didn’t care, everybody knew everybody’s dirty laundry. Old Man Karl got pulled over last week for a DUI, Nancy from the library cheated on her husband with his brother and.. oh yeah, Lee Bodecker dumped his long time girlfriend for the mayor's daughter.

Lee and yours breakup was the talk of the town. You were the fresh, new gossip in this boring as hell town and there’s nothing you could do about it.

You couldn’t get two steps into the church without being bombarded by women you didn’t want to know but also knew too much about, asking if you were alright and that they’d pray for you on this ‘beautiful, glorious Sunday morning’. Yeah, same shit different day, different person.

One woman stayed to chat with your momma, so you went to find your seat. Your usual spot was next to Lee and naturally that’s where you headed, only to be greeted by Lee and His new girlfriend, Laura-Jean Mancon. She was one of those girls who’d been pretty her whole life. Blind hair, blue eyes and a huge rack. Everybody thought she’d go into modeling or start an acting career but she never did. Instead, she stayed and was now going to marry Lee. In your eyes, that’s the best path she could’ve taken. You’d take her place any day.

“Mornin’ Y/n.” Lee cleared his throat, unable to make eye contact with you.

“L-“ You went to say his name but found you couldn’t. It was only one syllable, only three letters and it pained you to even think about, let alone say aloud. You cleared your throat, “Laura-Jean, nice to see you again.”

Laura-Jean said nothing in return. She just hummed, waiting for you to talk away.

“I guess I’ll go.. find me a new seat.” You took a deep breath when you felt the tears welling up in your eyes, again. Lee stared straight forward the whole time you stood there, too cowardly to even look you in the eyes. Some Sheriff he’ll be.

You scanned the crowd of people and found your momma in the front row, of course. You made your way up the aisle and took your seat next to her. The chorus sang their hems and the preacher clapped his way in on the last versus.

“How are we doin’ on this fine Sunday mornin’?” he drawled to the crowd. He got an assortment of greetings in return.

“I said ‘HOW ARE WE DOIN ON THIS BRIGHT N’ SHINY SUNDIE MORNIN’?’.”

“GOOD” the people shouted in return. You could hear Laura-Jean giggling over something but you wouldn’t dare look back. Lee always made church bearable, making wise cracks at the preaches expense.

“Now, today I’d like to talk a little bit about love. Of course, we’re always talkin’ about love when it comes to our lord and savor, Jesus Christ. But just for a moment, it ain’t about him. No. This mornin’ I’m preachin’ to you about young love.”

Here we go.

“It comes and goes so fast, but when you have it, it’s one of the most beautiful things this world can offer you.. especially when you put a little Jesus in it.” The church laughed. You knew where this was going. Your stomach churned as you sunk down into the pew.

“I’d like to ask the newly engaged folks in the crowd to come and join me up here. You know who you are, soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Lee Bodecker.”

Your heart felt as if it were going to explode, a tear escaped through your lashes and you quickly wiped it away.

They walked up hand in hand, smiling for cheek to cheek. How could he be so happy, so calm after only being broken up for less than a week? Did he ever love you? Really love you. Like you loved him. Obviously not because you could never, in good conscience do this to him. You couldn’t stand on a stage wrapped arm in arm with another man while Lee sat, just as you were now, devastated and totally distraught.

“So tell us,” the preach beamed. “When’s the big day.”

Lee looked at you with a pained expression as Laura-Jean answered the preach.

“May 21st”

Your breathing heavies at the reply. Turning to your momma you whispered, “Momma, that’s in two weeks.”

“I know that. Now, hush.” She side eyed you with a full smile still pressed to her lips. Even your own mother didn’t seem to care about your feelings. You sat there, listening to Laura-Jean go on and on about their ‘big day’. Tears streamed down your face and you let them. You’d given up on trying to hide how hurt you really felt. When you looked up, Lee stared straight at you. He wasn’t crying but his pain ridden face told you everything. One look at him and you couldn’t breathe anymore. You stood abruptly, all eyes were on you and Laura-Jean had stopped talking.

“I- excuse me.” You said before booking it out the back door. Lee hollered out, asking you to wait. It was too late. You were half way out the door and couldn’t stand to be in that room for another second.

Your feet stomped against the grave, dust clouding up in your wake as you made your way to the road.

“Y/n!” Lee called out after you.

“Go away. I have nothing to say to you, L- fuck.” You cursed, trying desperately to get away from him.

“I said wait, goddammit.” He growled, capturing your bicep in his large hand.

“Let go of me!” You whined sounding out of breath.

“Not until you listened to what I have to say.”

“What, Lee? What could you possibly have to say?”

“I- I.. dammit. I know I put you in a tough position but-“

“A tough position?” You repeated.

“Let me finish.” He sighed and released your arm from his grasp, “I know I hurt you. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, but, doll, this is it. This is my only chance at becoming Sheriff. You know how hard I’ve worked to get here and you’ve always been so supportive of my dream. I- I just thought.. out of everyone you would understand.”

Your skin burned as you imagined smoke blowing from your ears. Did he really just say that? That you should understand the break up and go on with your life like nothing happened like he is? You stood there frozen, breathing heavier and heavier as your brain tried to come up with a coherent response while trying to also remain a lady.

“I- I still love you. You know that, right?” He asked, bringing a hand to your cheek and wiping a stray tear away.

You flinched at his burning touch and slapped his hand away, “Don’t touch me. Don’t you ever touch me again. I don’t love you anymore. I can’t love you. Shit… seeing you was the best part of my day and now I can’t even look at you without feeling like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I can’t even say your name anymore. Everything about you, now, fills me with so much pain and dread. So if that’s what your love is, keep it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Doll,” A tear ran down his cheek, you now being the one who’s breaking his heart. “I never meant to hurt you. I swear.” He sniffles.

“Well, you did. I’m in so much pain.” You sobbed, “I’m in so much pain and I have no one to go to because you were my person. You have left me completely empty and utterly alone.”

“Y/n, I-“

“Save it, Bodecker. I’m done talking to you.”

Lee didn’t chase after you this time. He let the tears stream down his face as he watched you walk away. He was just as heartbroken as you but couldn’t show it., not when he was so close to winning this election. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and headed back towards the church. He knew you just needed time and that he’d still see you around town.

Seeing you today took his breath away. You wore your favorite dress that he bought you for your birthday so long ago. You didn’t have on any makeup, which he loved. You were so naturally beautiful and he did still love you with every piece of his shattered heart. He’d eventually come up with a plan to get you back, but for now he would respect your space.

//

Once you’d gotten home and shut the door, you couldn’t help but scream at the top of your lungs. Hoping for some sort of release from all this heartache you felt. Telling him you couldn’t love him was the hardest thing you ever had to do. You sat on the floor in the same position you were in before you left; head between your knees and sobbing like a baby.

There was no escaping him in this town. There was church and the grocery store and the diner you worked at part time. He was everywhere. He’d come in every morning you worked to have coffee with you. He had been a part of every little thing you do in your daily routine for as long as you can remember.

There was never a time you weren’t together. It was always just you and him. He was the one who held you when you were sad, but where was he now when you needed him most?

To you, there was only one way to fix this; get the hell out of here. Completely leave town and start anew somewhere else. You have an aunt that lives right outside of town. You can stay there until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you got up. Your aunt agreed to the plan and said you could stay with her for as long as you needed when you called her. You packed a small duffle bag and waited for her to pick you up.

When she did finally pull up out front, you hopped in the car and she drove off, leaving the dusty ole town you called home for so long. You took in a deep breath as you drove towards your new life. No Lee, no momma, no worries.

Dividers by: @firefly-in-darkness

Taglist: @haydens-moles , @c00lkidvibes , @tcc-gizmachine , @buckysm3talarm , @gogolucky13 , @cryptidcasanova , @heavenlyseb , @writersbuck , @teddy-bearbaby , @bbmommy0902 , @sweetllamaparadise , @thereblogcrusader , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @frostbytebaby , @jessyballet , @emotionallyandphysicallydone , @sarge-barnes-sir , @generalbagelcookieslime

(Dm me to be added to taglist)

[theabominable]

hi !! i was wondering if you could do an obey me! request,,, could you do a bunny! reader who has upright ears and a really fluffy tail, and so the brothers play with them etc. maybe asmo decorates the ears and tail with a ribbon, lucifer pets them etc. just fluffy stuff like that ? thank you ! <3 much love 💗

==》 OBEY ME BROTHERS WITH A BUNNY!READER

♡LUCIFER

he actually is quite fond of animals

especially smaller ones so he secretly adores you <333

you sit on his desk sometimes and he works while petting you

it helps him concentrate.. but sometimes he just gets distracted and cuddles you in his arms

LUCIFER AND A BUNNY IS JUST THE CUTEST SIGHT

♡MAMMON

over the moon for you

he plays with you in his room mostly and has a little box of treats or toys

he also carries you everywhere with him. you're his child now.

loves giving u lil kisses on your head ♡♡

♡LEVIATHAN

never really been the type to like real life animals,

but the way you bounce around full of energy and cuteness.. you're the only animal he'd be caught soft for

probably tries to put u in cosplay outfits 😭😭

he likes to talk to you while he's gaming and pretends you're talking to him back, you just happen to be a great source of company 👍

(shame you can't play games with him though, although he's tried to see if you could play a few)

definitely speaks to you in a baby voice too

♡SATAN

everyone already knows about his "secret" adoration for animals so he's the one playing with you the most

(some of them fight over you on who's turn it is to play)

he likes rubbing his cheek against your fur because YOURE SO SOFT ♡

so attached to you he once tried to bring you to school with him in his bag

but you got confiscated by lucifer unfortunately as you were chewing through his bag in the middle of class

ANYWAY U GET IT HES JUST THE SOFTEST FOR YOU

♡ASMODEUS

u already know he dresses u up in ribbons and bows and stuff

he takes so many pictures of you together and posts them on devilgram

atleast 1/4 of his camera roll are pictures of you in little hats and ribbons

YOU DON'T MIND THOUGH!!!

it's all worth it for a snuggle or kiss on the nose <33

"only your cuteness could nearly compare to mine y/n~"

♡BEELZEBUB

GIVES. THE. BEST. CUDDLES.

he likes cuddling you because you're warm and fluffy so u just kinda hop into his arms or lap when u need some attention

you look good enough to eat sometimes!!.. literally

beel compares you to every food he can think of when with you

when it's his day to feed you he's not really sure what rabbits actually eat

so he just gets like 2 carrots, chops them up for you, gets hungry and eats half of the carrots

he probably has accidentally given you a bit of cake or candy as a "treat" and doesn't know it's bad for you 😭 he means well though

you love him, but having beel on feeding duty is not a good idea

♡BELPHEGOR

always brings you into bed with him when it's naptime

if you're too full of energy to nap he'll let you free

but he really just uses you as a pillow most of the time

he likes to stoke you in between your ears and your back

and he'll sometimes play with you, but very lazily

mans got priorities if u wanna play running around u best ask mammon or satan!!!!

basically just

cuddle

warm

nice

soft

hi i hope this is good this was fun to do👍👍👍 thx for the request

its 2am rn but no sleep. only think about demon brothers and bunny

yawn

[u-ntitled-s-eries]

Subway Bosses + Detective!Reader - Spooky Month Part 1

“Sorry, guys; I won’t be able to make it to Elesa’s party. I’m on patrol duty.”

For a split second, the pair of smiling faces in front of you falter in enthusiasm before twisting into something more closely resembling skepticism.

“You’re still required to go on patrols as a detective? I would’ve thought the department would assign… well, patrol officers.”

You smile and shrug. It’s a fair question. “It’s Halloween night in the city. Lots of parties with lots of people.”

“Can someone else cover for you?”

“I wouldn’t count on it; the department’s already stretched thin.”

Not to mention you had already agreed to the night shift weeks ago; if you had known a supermodel was going to invite you to a costume party, you would’ve declined the job. Or at least chosen an earlier shift. As is, you’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone willing to walk around the city in the middle of the Autumn night, just so you can have fun.

Across the table, Ingo does his best to mask his disappointment with a contemplative hum before glancing down at his drink. Meanwhile, Emmet sinks a little deeper into his chair, a small pout replacing his usual smile. Despite the twinge of guilt that comes from seeing your friends so disappointed, you can’t help but laugh at their behavior. Halloween really is for all ages.

“I’m sure you guy’ll have plenty of fun without me. Besides, we’ve still got the rest of the month. Let’s enjoy it while we can, deal?”

Emmet visibly perks up at your offer, struggling to keep the frown on his face before he chuckles.

“Deal.”

One evening, Emmet came to you for help with trying on some face paint for his costume. Apparently he had tried it himself previously, but the end result looked less like blood and more like he’d tried eating a cherry pie without the use of his hands; you would have to ask Ingo if anyone in the station took a picture. And while you’re no make-up expert, you certainly know your way around blood and wounds. Suffice it to say, Ingo got a good fright from seeing his brother with fake blood running down his face.

You may or may not have done some pumpkin carving over the weekend. A matching pair of pumpkins, the same size, shape, and color. Each had a set of eyes, a nose, and a mouth, though one was sporting a rather festive smile, while the other had a spooky frown.

The Gear Station is decorated with all sorts of lights and colors, and some of the depot agents have begun wearing make-up and little accessories to celebrate the creepy season. This has inadvertently lead to several kids commenting on your “detective costume”. You don’t really mind the kids that think you’re dressing up, though something doesn’t sit right with you whenever someone says your costume doesn’t look “cool enough”. Perhaps you should ask Elesa for some fashion advice the next time you see her.

You were working at the station one day when Ingo all but shoved a half-empty bag of candy in your hands and, with a deathly glare, instructed you to hide the bag and guard it with your life. Five minutes later, Emmet approached you and asked if his brother passed by recently. You made an offhand remark about him wanting to inspect some of the cars, and that was all Emmet needed to hear before he ran off. You quickly got on the next train, deciding to ride the lines for an hour. Maybe two, just to be safe.

So. Many. Movies. Many an afternoon and evening have been spent discussing horror movies and debating over which is the best one, suffice it to say, you’ve yet to see conclusion in the near future. How anyone can stomach over the top gore and gratuitous content is beyond Ingo’s comprehension, and, according to Emmet, the time spent sitting through a slow-building thriller is rarely worth the payoff.

As per yearly tradition, the amusement parks have been given a Halloween makeover. The usual technicolor rainbow of the coaster tracks has been swapped out for dark purples and sickly greens, with cutouts and masked actors popping out as your cart travels along the rail. The scares are a lot less effective when you’ve got someone on either side of you, joking about how they’ll keep you safe. The ferris wheel has been left mostly unchanged, but the view from above during the night lets you truly take in all of the decorations and costumes as people travel around.

Although you might not be able to spend Halloween night with your dear friends, there’s still plenty of time to enjoy the season before the month’s up.