#because they said they'd inform me and then never fucking did!!!

[cosmogyros]

When you've written so fucking many official letters in German by now that you can't restrain the bitter sarcasm from shining through, even in situations where you should probably try to sound more humble and professional:

Sehr geehrte Damen und Herren,

ich beziehe mich auf die versehentliche Einstellung meiner Leistungen, die mir in Ihrem Schreiben vom 05.02. kommuniziert wurde. In der Zwischenzeit habe ich dank meines Anrufs bei der Arbeitsagentur-Zentrale herausgefunden, wo der Fehler lag, und habe am 05.03. offiziell ein Widerspruch dagegen erhoben. Ich habe Ihnen die benötigte Dokumentation auch bereitgestellt (ein Scan meiner Daueraufenthaltserlaubnis, die noch bis Dezember 2027 gültig ist).

Ich würde jetzt sehr gerne wissen, ob ich bis Ende dieses Monats (bzw. der ersten Woche des Folgemonats) mit einer fortgesetzen Auszahlung der Leistungen wieder rechnen darf. Ich bitte um eine Information diesbezüglich und bedanke mich herzlich im Voraus.

Mit freundlichen Grüßen

[torchstelechos]

People be like, how you doing? And I'm like, Loop is never going to see their family again.

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[deathofacupid]

you can't remember your last kiss with nanami kento. no matter how much you try, you just can't.

was it this morning? when he woke you up, newborn daughter in-hand? no, that couldn't have been it. because, after, he kissed you again, chaste, as he moved past you to get to the dishwasher.

and then again, when he set your breakfast on the table. another time after, too. when he settled on the couch with you and his baby girl.

but was that the last one? or, was there more after?

you can't remember. in your defense, you didn't have a reason to keep track. there shouldn't have been. the second you told him you were pregnant, he dropped the world of jujutsu. it was over, or it should have been.

speaking of, your pregnancy, it wasn't ever anything you really wanted. it was something he did. kids. it was his dream, you're pretty sure, the whole white-picket-fence fantasy.

and you? you didn't care, not much. as long as you had nanami, you were okay with anything. besides, he'd been so happy when you broke the news. it's not like you guys had been actively trying, which is why you were surprised to see his reaction.

but again, for him, you'd do anything. what did it matter, anyways? it was just a kid, right? and he'd be there every step of the way, right?

wrong.

it was another sunday, the three of you had been snuggled up in bed, just when he got the call.

"they want me to come in," he explained, softly.

"what?" you knew the answer.

"i won't go if you don't want me to. but, darling, i doubt they'd have called me in, if it hadn't been urgent."

you inhaled, watching him gently rock his daughter in his arms. "does- does that mean it's bad, then?"

"well, i'm sure it's nothing i can't handle," he informed you, paired with a soft smile.

"i don't know, na'mi. you said you weren't gonna go back." there was hesitance in your voice, one that trembled.

"honey, that's why i said it's up to you, okay?" nanami pressed his lips to your forehead.

if people really needed him, who were you to not let him go? what were you supposed to do? say no, let those people die? guilt gnawed at you. slowly, you nodded, looking up to meet his gaze.

so, you stood there at the door, watching him kiss his baby what should've been a temporary goodbye.

you can't remember if he kissed you goodbye, too. he probably did, but you can't remember.

"promise you'll come back to me?" you'd buried your face into the crook of his neck.

"of course, baby. i promise."

fucking liar.

oh, god, and when they told you there wasn't even a body to recover?

too much. all too much.

you think that you would've followed him, had there not have been his baby stopping you.

kiss, kiss, kiss; why can't you remember? why?

the cries of his baby, the baby that yearns for her father, they are etched into your head. you can't get her to stop. you don't blame her. you can't stop, either.

you aren't her mother. she isn't your daughter.

she's nanami's, but he's gone.

the only thing he left you with is a child you never wanted, a living, breathing reminder of his absence, of his broken promise, of the kiss you can't remember — the kiss that might as well have never happened.

[itsharleystuff]

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ 𝐌Í𝐀 ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Javier Peña x afab!fem reader (implied hispanic/latina)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.3k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After a major fight between the two of you, a month goes by in which you give each other the silent treatment, figuring out if you should start seeing different people. However, Javier has a problem: he can’t get his dick hard for anyone that isn’t you. So, when he sees how easily you can move on from him, he gets awfully jealous.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, possessive/jealous behavior, unprotected sex, p in v, cuffs, slight dirty talk, semi-public sex, use of ‘slut’, pet names (sweetheart, corazón, cariño, hermosa, etc.), praise kink, come eating, oral sex (f! & m! receiving), mentions of drugs, smoking, a bit of angst, very little plot (mostly filth), weirdly structured plot. I think that’s it.

— a/n: there’s some phrases and words in Spanish, some are translated and some aren’t. Let me know if translations are needed :)

No use of y/n.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Javier Peña has never been a jealous man.

It's simply never been in his nature, not even when he was a child playing around with toys that he loved to share. And nowadays? Well, he had other stuff in mind that didn't leave any room for those pedestrian feelings.

As of now, he -supposedly- didn't have anything to be worried about. Specially not women.

Everyone knew he fucked hookers so good that they'd spill all their secrets in his ear, and that he was attractive enough to leave a bar with company just after a couple of minutes from arriving there. But to anyone observant, it was obvious how bad he had it for you.

Still, that didn't stop him from being an asshole.

You remember the last time you two spoke and how it turned out to be a fucking disaster: basically, he didn't like the idea of exclusivity because it involved feelings that he wasn't ready to admit, so you had called him a slut (along with many other insults) and he'd said that you were childish and sensitive. So naturally, everything went downhill after that fight.

Currently, things were pretty tense with Javier, even at work. But things just got worse when the Colombian police sent you onto an undercover mission, nothing really extravagant but still quite dangerous. And apparently, the DEA knew nothing about it.

The task was rather simple: you'd go to one of Medellin's busiest nightclubs and find out if there was a cocaine distribution line working there. The problem was what the agent had overheard from Carrillo. Not only did he knew now that you were at the place, but he also had word that one of the cartel's most wanted sicarios was about to be there too. And knowing the Coronel as well as he did, you were right in the middle of a crossfire. He arrived at the club earlier than any of them, hoping to find you quickly and draw you out before the asset came in.

But, oh hell.

What he saw the minute he stepped in almost made him lose his shit.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

You had no business being in there this late. You'd already passed down all the information needed to your boss and now you were just waiting for the cartel's member to arrive so you could call Carrillo and let him finish the job.

But in the meantime, you decided to at least try and have some fun. After everything that went on with Peña, you felt like you deserved a distraction.

The music was loud, reggaetón reverberating in your body as you danced, eyes wide awake in case the target decided to show up. The stranger you were dancing with had his hands all over your body, holding you close to him while you moved in synch. He was handsome in a boyish way, and a bit clumsy, but good enough to take your mind off from the irritating DEA agent. At least for now.

To be honest, you didn't lack any attention at the moment. Both men and women would come up to you, hoping to get a piece of what you had to offer. It came without saying that everything about you tonight resulted appealing to the kind of people that frequented the place, being an undercover assignment you did your best to blend in. And it seemed to work out wonderfully. The flashy makeup and short dress that only accentuated your figure made you stand out amongst the rest; nevertheless, what really attracted everyone's gaze wasn't any of that, but the confidence with which you'd walk around the place like you owned it.

"¿Qué tal si nos vamos pa' un lugar más oscurito, mamacita?" (How about we go to a more private place?) The guy, whose name you didn't even know, proposed. And though the idea sounded nice, your job wasn't quite finished.

"Not yet, papi. Dame un par de canciones más." (Let's dance a bit more). He hummed in response, his hands traveling from your lower back to grab your ass firmly.

"Usted manda." (You call the shots). The answer made you smile cheekily as you lean in to him, hoping to connect his lips with yours.

However, you definitely didn't expect to be abruptly pulled back with force instead, ripping you apart from the man's hold.

"What the hell..." you start to complain and twist in the strangers grasp, who started to drag you out the dance floor and keeping your wrists behind your back.

"Hombre, ¿pero qué diablo' le pasa?" (What's wrong with you, man?). Asked your poor companion, glancing over at the guy that took you away from him.

But you knew exactly who he was even before he spoke. You'd recognize that musky cologne anywhere, mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke. Damn, even your body recognized him so well that the way his fingertips dig on your skin flooded your mind with memories from the past.

"Peña." You mutter through gritted teeth, not bothering to turn your head towards him.

"It's agent Peña to you, sweetheart." He snarls, completely blowing off anyone that would try to get in his way to lug you outside.

A new, fueled up rage crept up your spine while he harshly pulls you to te entrance, right were you see the colonel's target going in.

"Let go of me, mierda!" You struggle against him, not wanting to actually put on a fight but just make him reason. "I have a fucking job to do, so let go of me or..."

"Or what?" Javier spins you around carelessly, leaving your face so close to his that your breaths merged with each other's, chest pressed against your own as he keeps you still, his hands gripping you so hard that it would certainly leave bruises.

"I need to call Carrillo. I'm working, even if you don't believe it." You tell him, letting your racing heartbeat start to settle.

The man's eyes were dark, covered by a shadow of anger that matched his stern expression. He was always handsome, but whenever he'd get mad, Javi was hot. Although it was unusual for you to see him like this, him being always attentive and careful, though still very passionate. He would never explode, not even when the stress and tension became too much to handle. But then, you realize...

"No way..." you scoff, keeping direct eye contact. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

His reaction is immediate, turning your body again and flushing your face against the trunk of his jeep Cherokee, bending you over the car. You gasp audibly, feeling the cold metal under your cheek and his body towering upon you while he holds you down by the back of your neck. Javier's lips brush the top of your ear when he leans down to you.

"The fuck do I need to be jealous about, cariño?" He whispers lowly, his hot breath giving you goosebumps and making your knees tremble. "Eres mía, you've always been."

Ah, fuck.

Despite all the shit that you went through with him, the effect he had on you remained the same. No matter what, the agent was aware of it, conscious of how you'd always melt under his touch, he just knew all your sweet spots by core memory and what'll have you squirming underneath him. Yeah, even if your mind tried it's best to erase Peña, your body would always betray you.

"You lost your chance." You mutter in a bittersweet tone. "Now get the hell off me so I can finish my task."

He doesn't instantly let go, but eventually loosens the grip on your nape. Though right when you thought he'd actually let you free, there's a cold metallic sensation brushing on your wrist and you suddenly can't move your arms from your back. The motherfucker had just cuffed you.

"Malparido, hijo de..." You ramble, straightening your back to glance at him in exasperation.

"Don't move." He growls, opening the driver's door and taking his radio out. The agent starts to talk through it, but you're way too outraged as to pay any attention, your vision going red when you catch your name, the words 'Carrillo', 'sicario' and the place were you're at, figuring out that he's doing the part of the job that corresponded to you.

"You're sick, Peña." There's no reply to the snarky comment as he simply shoves you in the back of his truck, rather carefully, considering the situation.

You watch intently while he gets back on his seat, analyzing every detail about him. It wasn't anything special, you had seen him quite often at work after your fight, and nonetheless, now... Something seemed off.

Javier was wearing a red button shirt under his black leather jacket, from which he drew out a pack of cigs and a lighter. He appeared the same, however, you could sense the tension on his shoulders and back, the kind you'd help him deal with before, and it almost felt like he was holding back from doing something. Heck, you hated it. You completely despised arguing with him, being apart from the man almost made you physically unwell.

But that was the root of this whole problem. You were able to admit it; how much you liked him and didn't want anyone else. Him on the other hand, wasn't ready for all that. Although, despite him implying that he couldn't fully commit or correspond to your feelings... Right now, his actions were very contradicting.

Because Javier Peña never got jealous.

And yet, there he was.

Perhaps, if you spurred him on just enough and cornered him in a trap... Perhaps then, he'd be able to admit it. 

"So what now, agent?" You wonder, laying your back flat on the leather sit, feeling the coldness of the material on your exposed skin and trying to find a comfortable position. "You mind explaining yourself?"

He looks at you through the rear-view mirror, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. A challenging fire shines in your eyes when you lock glances with him. But he doesn't say anything, simply starting the car and getting the windows down before lighting up a cigarette.

"What about you, sweetheart?" He asks, the fag hanging from between his lips as he starts driving away from the club. "Care for elaborating on your actions?"

You snort, gaze diverting towards the window. "I was just killing time."

The streets of Medellin were loud and busy, specially on the weekends. But at the moment, the paths were dark and quiet, as if everyone knew that there was a storm coming and they had to stay out of the hood.

"So that's your idea of 'killing time'?" He comes again, tapping the cigar out his window to leave the ashes behind. "Letting random men grope you in those wrenched bars?" You grin, still defying him with your attitude. "And yet, I'm the slut..."

"You must certainly are, Peña." You reply condescendingly, watching the road. "When I was with you, that was it. No one else even crossed my mind. But then, you? How many other women did you have besides me?"

He grunts, taking a long drag without looking back in your direction. You recognize certain spots and locals, but none of them were anywhere close to your apartment. Instead of asking were he was taking you to, the idea you previously had lingers on your mind.

Red light.

"You know, ever since we... Well, ghosted each other. I've actually had tons of fun." His eyes darkened, but no matter all the warning signs he was sending with his body, you just couldn't hold back anymore, starting to play a game that might get out of control. "Actually, you know that guy working with the CIA? Balcázar?"

Javier looked so gorgeous while driving. His big hands over the lever and muscles flexing whenever he'd make sudden moves. Even now, tense as an arrow an white-knuckling the wheel at your words, he was the hottest man you'd seen.

"Shit, he’s good..." you purr, slightly arching your back so he'll get a better view of your breasts, barely contained in that tiny dress you were wearing. "I really miss him. Hated it when he went back to New York."

His stormy glare was on you, watching closely every single move you made. Your legs were briefly parted, just enough for him to peek a sight of your laced underwear. The agent's breathing became ragged and he had to try his best to stay concentrated.

"Careful, cariño." You hear him rasp out with a hint of danger. "You really don't want to go there."

Green light.

He puts the cigarette out and throws the tail away carelessly.

"Ay, Peña." Your voice goes an octave lower, licking your lips. "Don't act like you haven't been to every brothel in the city trying to fill in my spot."

The man huffs a laugh, shaking his head in disapproval. "I know what you're doing." You look at him through your lashes, faking innocence and confusion. "But if you really want me to say it, there hasn't been anyone else."

"Yeah, right..." That mocking tone was really getting on his nerves.

"Not even when we were together." Javi sulks out.

"Then why was it so difficult for you to be serious with me?" You question grimly. "Do you not like me?"

His eyes bore back into yours somberly, as if you'd just said the stupidest thing in the world despite the graveness in your voice and expression, lazily scanning you head to toe.

"Like you?" It sounded like he was struggling not to come off sardonic, cocking an eyebrow at you. "I can't believe you just asked me that."

You lean in towards him when he takes an unexpected turn, inhaling his particular scent mixed with the leather and smoke. Suddenly, he parks the car someplace dark and empty that resembled an abandoned gas station. Kind of creepy, but you recognized the area now. It was a neighborhood located a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

"Why?" You coo, taunting, patiently testing how much he'd spill. But Javier won't meet your glance, focused on the nothingness ahead of him.

"Because I can't even get my dick hard for any other women, for fucks sake!" He howls, rubbing his face with his palm, clearly pissed.

At first, you thought he must've been joking. But the way he said it came out so frustrated that it made it hard to believe he was lying. His bold statement gave you a rush of power, knowing that you had him in mind and body, the man that made every woman he acquainted feel like a schoolgirl crushing on a senior. You understood why he was so mad right now; it wasn't only cause he was jealous, but because he hated seeing that you could easily move on to the next man while he remained stuck.

Though it was a lie. You only responded to him and you wanted to prove him that. But Javier had to acknowledge the mistake he made.

"Perhaps you're just old." You teased, "Have you tried pills for that?"

His reaction was so unexpected that you had barely any time to process the circumstances. He got out the car and opened the passenger's seat, tugging at your arm to get you out the jeep apprehensively.

"Take a guess, sweetheart." He grits next to your ear, his chest pressed to your back.

"Fucking hell..." you mewl at the feeling of Javier's hard boner firm against your ass. His hands hold your waist for a second before manhandling you to the edge of the back passenger's seat, hunching down in front of you with both hands gently gripping the exposed flesh of your thighs and looking up at you with fiery eyes.

"If you want me to say it, fine." He bites, giving up. "I made a mistake. It was stupid." Then his tone denotes the way he's struggling to contain anger. "I can't bear it. Seeing you with other men... It drives me insane. I can't even think straight- shit, I almost blew a whole ass operation tonight just because I saw you dancing with that guy." You gulp, remembering how furious he was just a few moments ago. "But let's not fool ourselves, cariño. We both know you haven't slept with anyone else either."

How he figured that out was a mystery to you. Maybe he truly was a very good agent.

There isn't a retort in your behalf. What could you possibly say anyway? He had you figured out already, he always did.

Back in the day, when you first started working with him, Javier acted like a complete shithead. Him an Murphy would give you a hard time with the DEA, always getting in trouble, messing up your schedules and bribing confidential information out of you. That's how you grew closer to him. Peña used to invite you for dinner or beers as an apology, granted that he always looked forward to take you back to his apartment, of course. Except you had heard the rumors regarding his reputation, and that was a well in which you weren't particularly eager to fall in, specially since he was a coworker.

Yet, it was all in vain. How could you ever say no to him if he'd look at you with those sparkly, deep brown eyes that resembled a lost puppy? You fell for Javi's smug smirk, the groovy hair, plus that confident and bite-back attitude of his, knowing how it would eventually end. Even so, no one could really blame you. He acted different around you, people were able to tell, brighter, more open and honest.

"See, I'm sorry about what I said..." you start, but he cuts you off.

"Don't be. I deserved that shit." The man stands up, taking a bunch of keys from the pocket of his jeans and going to take off the cuffs. "You should feel sorry for all those poor guys you toyed with while thinking about me the whole time."

You stretch your arms and massage your wrists, unwilling to meet his intense gaze, conscious that you'd fall for his charm immediately. He worked smarter, grabbing your chin to raise your face towards him.

"Did you enjoy it?" He hissed, fingertips digging on your jaw with moderate force. "Having other men grab your ass while everyone watches? Teasing the hell out of me in the office with those obscenely tight skirts and talking to Murphy as if I wasn't right beside him?" Your tongue darts out to lick your lower lip, not breaking eye contact. "Answer me, corazón."

"Yes," you respond cockily, "I enjoyed it." His face swiftly sobered, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "But I didn't think it had any effect on you, so it felt like a waste of time and effort."

Javier laughs huskily, bending forward. You close your eyes, thinking he's going in for a kiss, but instead his lips go to rest on your jawline, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck and all the way down to the valley of your breasts. As of now, you're a panting mess, already turned on by his adamant behavior. The fact that you were finally getting to feel him like this after a month or so of completely ignoring each other... It felt divine.

Your tug at his shoulder as he keeps nibbling the sensitive skin. The agent knew your body better than anyone else ever could, he'd memorized all the spots that would have you moaning and squirming underneath him, which was the case just now.

"Javi..." you sigh, running your hand through his hair.

"You're such a fucking brat." He reflects, kneeling between your parted legs. "A month ago I was merely a ghost to you, a few minutes prior I was simply 'Peña'. But when my lips are on you I'm suddenly 'Javi'?" He boasts with a devilish grin. "How convenient..."

"Mmm..." he laughs gruffly at your loss of words, his fingers hooking your underwear beneath the dress and slowly pulling it down.

At this point you're so wet it's embarrassing. It was probably due to the lack of sex you've had recently, or perhaps you were really growing fond of this new phase of his and the idea of Javier being possessive over you.

"Don't you dare look away." He warns roughly, peeling the fabric off you with a tad of your help. "Keep your eyes on me. I'll only tell you this once."

You nod eagerly. "Javi, are we- are we going to do it here?" It wouldn't be a new thing, you've done similar stuff in the past, though never in such an open space, despite appearing deserted. "Your place is barely a few blocks away..." His lips graze the soft skin of your upper leg, the feeling of his mustache raising goosebumps on your body.

"Can't wait." He stated, voice tinted with lust whilst his palm caresses your calf. "Need you now."

Somehow that made the pit of your stomach feel warmer. The rush of excitement coming from that desire he had for you had gave a thrill of control, completely ignoring how he was the one in charge of this situation. Javier carefully slips your dress upwards, taking in every single reaction you had to his touch and cursing at the sight of your throbbing pussy. The heat of his breath against your exposed core only increased your arousal, seemingly encouraging him.

"Shit, this cunt really did miss me, huh?" You nod again, basking in the contact of his nose brushing your clit, sending shivers down your spine.

In spite of your low whimpers of need, he deliberately denied you of his touch were you most needed him, simply roaming his lips and fingers over your inner thighs and pubic bone. Desperate, you scratch his scalp softly, pulling a groan from him.

"Javi, please..." he was definitely going to make you beg for it, regardless of how much he wanted it too. 

"Did you let anyone else do this to you?"

"No." You breathe out.

"Good." His thumb suddenly falls on your clit, rubbing slow circles. You squeal from the spontaneousness of the action, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. "This is mine." Then he slides down his finger to slightly part your swollen lips, coating it with your slick. "All mine."

"Sí, Javi."

"That's right, corazón." He murmurs, slipping two digits into you. "I'm going to fuck you so good that you won't ever think about anyone else." He sets a pace pretty quickly, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them to hit all the right spots. "I'm the only man for you. Understand that?"

"Yes, shit-" you choke down a moan when he mildly pinches your nub. "You are."

He makes a satisfied noise before diving in your pussy, starting to lick and kiss your clit without pulling out his fingers, maintaining a relentless pace and rejoicing himself in the sounds he'd pull from you.

"Fuck, that's good..." you manage to say, knowing how he likes the praise, your hand messing up his hair.

Javier pulls away for a second, grabbing your thighs to part them further and place your legs over his shoulders eagerly, hungrily looking up at you. You arch your back, ever so responsive to him while struggling to maintain a hold of yourself.

"So pretty." He whispers, admiring how your chest goes up and down from your rag breathing, your face contorted by pleasure as his fingers disappear in your cunt, the squelching sounds of your pussy and the moans spilling from your lips making him painfully hard. "Toda mía."

Your legs were already shaking, your body being so sensitive and needy. Specially for him. Always for him. But it wasn't enough and you both knew that. Though before you can beg him for more, his mouth takes place were his digits used to be, eating you out as if you were his favorite meal, lapping you up kind of selfishly, almost like he did it for his own pleasure.

"Javi, that's-" you can't even form coherent sentences without being interrupted by your cries of pleasure. "Too fucking good."

His tongue is hot and soft between your folds, licking up your slit as he rubs tight circles on your clit, fucking you greedily and moaning graciously against your slickness. Also, the image of him between your legs was always a sight to see, adding to the pool of arousal. You start seeing white spots and the knot in your lower stomach starts to loosen as the orgasm approaches, gripping the leather seat as if your life depended on it. It's a good thing that he's holding you, cause in a matter of seconds your whole body starts to tremble and his name leaves your lips repeatedly.

"I can't- shit!" You pull his hair involuntarily and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your core and pushing you to the edge. "I'm gonna..."

You can't even finish speaking before you're coming undone in his mouth, feeling the hot waves of satisfaction wash over you. He doesn't pull away until you're practically whining from the overstimulation, trying to regain composure as he licks you clean. When he does, his eyes peer at you, intoxicated with desire as he starts to stand on his feet, towering over you.

"I missed that sweet taste of yours." He licks his glistening lips and you wish he'd finally kiss you. "Can't get enough of it."

Your hands reach his belt, trying to unbuckle it, but he takes your wrists to stop you.

"What's wrong?" You question, genuinely confused.

"I'm taking you to my apartment. I'm doing this properly." He retorts. However, you're too turned on now to care about the place.

"Please Javi, let me do something for you." One thing that made him go stupidly insane for you was the way you were never coy when asking for his cock, looking up at him with pleading eyes. As if having him on your throat gratified you. "I need you."

He almost caved in. Almost.

"Stop that or I'll cuff you again." He grumbles, only making you smile.

"Do it. I don't need hands, I can always take you in my mou-" Javier flips your body abruptly, pressing your face against the seat, and you can hear the familiar sound of metal clipping in.

"Such a greedy slut." He fixes your dress, not without subtly smacking your ass beforehand.

"Mm, can I at least get my panties back?" You ask in defeat, turning to face him, but he was already shutting the door.

"No." He quickly starts the car as you settle on the back, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed and lips plump from biting them, eyes still sparkling from the high post-orgasm.

"Do you like me like this?" You wonder as he begins driving. "All fucked out, cuffed and ready for you to take?"

Peña doesn't answer immediately, not daring to look back at you but desperately wanting to do it.

"I do." He answers, eyes on the road. "I like you naked. And dressed too, specially with those pretty skirts. I like it when you tell me how your day was, or when you're reading quietly." His words make your heart flutter, blushing harder. "I like listening to your voice, and the way your gaze always seems interested whenever I talk about me. Shit, I even like you when you're ignoring me." You can almost hear his smile, if that made any sense. "I like you all the damn time, hermosa."

Honestly, you weren't expecting such a straightforward answer, finding yourself at loss of words. Nonetheless, you didn't need to say anything, cause sooner than expected you were being taken out of the truck, flashes of the building he resided in passed right in front of your eyes while he dragged you through the dark, silent halls.

"Javi..." despite having limited mobility, you lean towards him, whispering in his ear. "Please kiss me."

He laughs dryly at your plea and struggles to open the door. "You want that, huh? ¿Quieres que te bese?" Then he takes your arm to drag you in, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, mi amor. I missed you so fucking much." You stay close to him, your face nuzzled on the crook of his neck. His hand brushes the hair out of your face and he presses his lips to your temple.

"Hm, is that right?" He hums and you can feel it against your nose. "Didn't seem so."

You back off swiftly, keeping your eyes locked with his. "I'm sorry, Javier. I really am."

Something shifts in his gaze, a possessive, deep emotion takes over him and he decides to take you up on your previous proposition.

"Prove it." He commands, voice hoarse. "Show me how much you missed me." The idea of getting what you wanted pursed your lips in a mischievous smirk. "I'll kiss you afterwards if I'm convinced."

Instead of responding, you start peppering kisses all over his jaw and neck, going as far along his chest as the buttons of his shirt would allow you. He lazily unbuckles his belt and pants while you lower yourself to your knees in front of him, but doesn't bother to go any further. It was going to be difficult, though nothing you haven't done before, nearly forgetting the cuffs as you craved his taste.

You rub the side of your face on his stiff erection, feeling how hard and hot he was under the tight fabric of his jeans and a low groan scratches his throat. You mouth at it before taking the zip between your teeth and sliding it down, eyes peering up at him at the same time. Javier observes every move attentively, his cock twitching at the sight of your lust-drunken gaze, breath starting to become unsteady when you kiss and lick the head of his dick over the thin fabric of his boxers. You taste the precum throughout it, salty and good, before pulling down his underwear by lightly biting the elastic.

Your mouth waters at the view, jaw going slack even before taking him in your mouth. His girth slaps against his clothed belly, tip red and leaking, just as big as you remember. Shit, you really had missed him. Javier's hand tangles in your hair, running his fingers in between the locks lovingly. He gasps when you press your lips to the slit, kitten licking the top and starting to spread wet kisses all over his length, running your tongue along the shaft, his musky scent getting to your head quite fast. He loved how every time you were on your knees for him it felt like you adored him, as much as Javier did you.

And it was true. Knowing how good you made him feel satisfied your senses, every expression and single noise he'd make could turn you on and push you to edge so easily. The man was simply delightful.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” he sighs, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb when you finally suck him in. “That’s it, wrap those gorgeous lips around my cock. So pretty…”

He lets out a gruffly moan as you take him further, watching as he screws his eyes shut and throws his head back, the sound so divine that it immediately makes your pussy clench around nothing. Javier is thick. And it’s always so hard to get him all in your mouth, but this time you make a double effort. You run your tongue against the veins on the underside of his dick, enjoying the weight of it in you, the taste and the admirable sight of him coming undone while he tries his best not to start fucking your face without warning, laying his palms flat on the wall behind you.

“Shit- that’s…” he grumbles, head spinning from pleasure, unable to make up any thought or manifest anything into words. You start bobbing your head up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to provide more warmth.

You’re dripping, feeling the slick run down your thighs and the ache becoming unbearable. You squeeze your legs together in order to release some of that need, letting out a whine that vibrates through him and makes his hips jolt into your mouth.

“Fucking hell…” Javier’s hand snakes to the back of your neck, massaging the soft skin. “Does it turn you on to get me off like this, hermosa?”

You hum in response and the feeling sends him to oblivion, letting out a coarse moan that shocks another wave of hotness between your legs.

“What a nasty girl you are.” He mumbles breathily, “My girl.” He’s practically shaking at this point, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and your nose pressed against his pubic bone.

Air wasn’t a necessity at the moment, your ears ringing and the corners of your eyes watering. He warned you he was close but you didn’t back out, letting him hold you for support. He gasps out a raspy ‘fuck’ when he releases, hips stuttering and back arching slightly as his cum hits your tongue. You pull apart just enough to lap at the tip while he rides it out, feeling him throb in your mouth while you savor him until he’s completely spent, soft moans barely audible.

You wait until he opens his eyes again, brown gaze meeting yours between shaky breaths. “Will you uncuff me now, agent?”

He huffs a laugh, tugging himself back in his jeans before helping you get up and taking the metal cuffs off. For a second, none of you say a thing, simply staring back at each other with a swirl of emotions between you. But then he says your name, merely a whisper that makes you crumble.

“Don’t do that, Peña.” You scold, turning your back to him and walking towards the couch, taking a seat and listening to the leather crack under your weight.

“What do you mean?” He turns to you, hands on his hips, pants unbuttoned and hair messy.

“When you say my name like you need me and give me those puppy-dog eyes, I actually believe that you want me for anything other than sex.” He seems disappointed, mostly on himself. “So can we just fuck and get this over with?”

“Is that what you think I…?” Javier shakes his head and follows your direction, but only observes from above. “It’s not like that.”

You take off the heels, your feet starting to hurt. “Then how is it?”

His hand goes to your chin, urging you to look up at him. “I’m not good with this… I screwed up back in Texas and I did it again with you.” You gulp, your hands tightly gripping your knees. “I don’t know how to handle this sort of things, and it’s been a while since I felt like this for anyone…”

He takes the jacket off and sits on the edge of his coffee table in front of the sofa, cupping your face in his hands.

“All I know is that every time we’re together, nothing else matters. Things feel right. But when you’re not with me… Shit. Life becomes insufrible. I can’t sleep, can’t think, fuck, I can’t even have sex!” He looks genuinely irritated. “Everything’s about you when you’re away. And I can’t tolerate to see you with anyone else. It’s like someone just took a shot at me.”

You inhale sharply, taking his hand in yours without breaking eye contact. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve came back to you.”

“Precisely. I tried not to be selfish and let you go, but I can’t. It hurts too much.” He pouts, as if the mere thought made him sick. “And you deserve better.”

Inevitably, you roll your eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, Peña.” He furrows his brows at your reply, his palm falling from your cheek to his lap. “That’s crap! You think you know what’s best for me?”

“Well shit, I’m sorry for trying to look out for you.” Javier snarls back.

“I don’t need you to do that, you idiot.” You grab his jaw, taking him by surprise. “I know what I want and I was straightforward about it,” His heart starts thumping against his ribs. “So, if you want me, take me. Cause if you don’t… Someone else might.”

Your statement stirs his pot and his expression shifts. “Fuck no. You’re mine and I’m yours. That’s how this is going to work.”

“Yeah?” He lets out a throaty growl and leans down towards you.

“Yeah.” His mustache tickles your upper lip when he crashes his lips to yours and you whine into his mouth.

It was desperate and demanding, ripping all the emotions from you. Javier tasted like cigarettes, a hint of mint and of you. And you tasted like tequila, honey and of him. His cologne was a little faded, but you could still smell it.

“Say you’re mine, corazón.” He mumbles when he pulls back for air, forehead pressed to yours. “I don’t care if you’re lying, I need to hear it.”

You take him by the collar of his shirt so that he’s sitting down next to you, snaking your hand to press the palm against his bare chest.

“Soy tuya, Javi.” You tell him, laying a small kiss to his lips. “I mean it.”

He smiles cheekily as he pulls you on top of him, spreading your knees to each side of his thighs, your dress slipping upwards. Javier tugs a strand of hair behind your ear and his fingers roam your face as if he wanted to memorize every edge of it by tact alone. His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip carefully, parting your lips briefly before going to kiss you again. This time he does it slowly, taking his time with your lips prior to sliding his tongue past your teeth and relishing on your taste, almost like he wanted to lose himself in you.

To him, the world meant nothing if you weren’t by his side. And now that you were here, he intended to make the most of it.

His hands are everywhere: your waist, hips, lower back and butt, grabbing every bit of your flesh that he could, keeping you close. So close that it almost seemed like he wished to merge into you. You made out for what it appeared to be hours, until the kisses got sloppier but never less passionate, and you started grinding against him. You hold his shoulders for support, creating that delicious friction between your naked cunt and his stiff boner tucked in his pants. He jolts his hips up, making you release a whimper in his mouth.

He backed off, his lips now scrape your jawline, neck and collarbones. You arch your back when his hand slithers to pull down the zipper of your dress, granting him a better view of your tits close to his face.

“My room?” He asks, biting your earlobe mildly.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Javi carries you to the bedroom with your legs wrapped around his waist, still finding a way to keep his lips on you in the meantime. Clothes disappear in the blink of an eye and you sit at the end of the sheets to help him take off his pants, kissing his abdomen, your dress now discarded somewhere on the floor.

“Eres preciosa.” The way he says it makes you blush, skin burning under his chocolate gaze. “I’m all yours, mi amor.”

You bring his face close to yours, infatuated with his beauty. “All mine…”

“Yes, corazón.”

You lay down on the mattress, Javier starting to play with your hard nipples, nibbling at them, sucking and kissing with his attention focused on all your reactions. You’re so aroused that you’re quite literally dripping onto his sheets, legs trembling from every light stimulation and skin scorching from desire, already spurred on by the make out and giving him head.

“Please, Javi… I- need you inside.”

He wastes no time to compel, maneuvering a hand to your lower back and aligning himself to your entrance, keeping your legs spread. You feel him inside, splitting you open with no previous warning and the tight grip of your cunt feels like homecoming to him. You hold your breath until he bottoms out, enjoying the sweet stretch he provided. Then your whole body quivers, a sheen layer of sweat covering both his golden skin and yours, a couple of curly locks sticking to his temples from it.

You watch him from below through hooded eyes, every inch of him inside you making you feel so full and complete, the outline of his fingers dig in your waist to keep you angled. You bear down on his cock, enveloping him in the warm, welcoming grasp of your body. He holds your hand above your head and leans down to kiss you again, drowning his own moans in your mouth as he draws out slowly to set a pace with his hips, the wet sounds of you pussy and skin clapping against skin sending a thrill of excitement down his spine.

You get it then, as he pours out all sentiment into you, overcome by passion. He is yours. Even though he just said it, only now does it become evident to you. This is Javier’s way of proving it.

He grabs one of your thighs and lifts your knee to the crook of his elbow, the new angle spreading you further open and allowing him to hit deeper. The impact of his tip hitting every right spot relentlessly forces you to break apart from his lips, your head thrown back into his pillows while practically screaming for more, his face nuzzled in your chest as he melts into you.

“Shit baby, I won’t last.” He warns, sinking his teeth to leave a mark between your breasts. You can feel it too, hot shots of ecstasy creeping up the pit of your stomach every time his cock jumps inside you.

You tug at his hair, a strangled moan escaping his lips. “Do it in me- Please, fill me up.”

Your request sends him right to the edge, his thrusts becoming careless as he starts grinding into you, Javi’s fingers quickly finding your swollen clit. The sole touch made you writhe and reach your high in absolute bliss, clenching your walls around him and crying out from raw pleasure. He fucks you through it, overwhelmed by the sensation. You feel dizzy, barely conscious when he finds his own release, your name spilling from his lips like it was the only word he knew, coming in warm spurts inside you. His spend is dripping from your pussy and thighs when he pulls out and sits up to admire the absolute mess he just made of you.

“Well…” he says, guiding his finger to push his seed back into you, making you whine from the overstimulation. “Hope that made it clear.”

You smile, every muscle in your body weeping from exhaustion. “Yeah… I’ll have to make you jealous more often.”

He groans in annoyance and you pull him back on top of you, spreading tender kisses all over his face, laughing in the meantime.

“Not funny.” He grumbles, despite the grin forming on his lips. Javier rolls to your side, coming to lay down next to you and immediately holding you against his sturdy chest, wrapping his arms around your waist to spoon you. “Stay with me.”

His plead is barely a murmur that filters through your ears and you’re too tired to figure out what those words actually mean. You simply let your eyelids drop and retort with a hardly audible ‘always’.

[hellyeahsickaf]

The way addicts and chronically ill people are dehumanized is so exhausting

The normalization of this shit in medical and casual settings is genuinely mind boggling. Addicts and disabled people go through so much bullshit. I've dealt with many fucked up doctors when I just needed help

I had a kidney infection, some months back. This is always extremely medically urgent, and I was likely only hours from sepsis. I went to the hospital reporting my pain to be a 9/10. 9 because my 10 was gallstones. I experienced severe malpractice at the hospital and the doctor reported exams that never occured and false information while making me wait with nothing more than tylenol to hold me over (didn't touch the pain) and bring my fever down but that's a whole other story

They did however, deny me the pain medication I needed until it was time to go home. I'm deathly allergic to NSAIDS, but that's something an addict might say so they witheld pain relief because they'd rather me suffer just in case I'm a different kind of sick. An entire night, maybe 6 hours in the ER and they couldn't give me anything, not a small dose of morphine or one norco even a few hours prior to take the edge off of the pain while I was curled up shaking and crying. Just in case I was an addict looking for my fix, and my suffering was just withdrawals and good acting. In that case maybe I deserved it and should be denied my humanity. God forbid in that case I'm so desperate to alleviate unbearable withdrawals that I spend all night in the ER crying. Not the first time I've experienced red tape just to get relief from excruciating pain

But whatever. As per protocol I was asked to follow up with my pcp. So a few days later I called to set an appointment, but I'd also run out of norco and desperate to relieve the pain I asked if I could be filled even enough for a few days, until the pain was bearable. I had difficulty walking, laying down, and I again, can't take most pain relievers. The receptionist was nice and understanding, actually got me in touch with the doctor because she wanted me to be able to get my refill. Probably heard the pain in my voice even. She believed me

She transfers me over to the doctor and I tell him I'd like a follow up and ask if he could fill my painkillers. I would've acceped a no from him, I just needed my follow up. He asked about my condition, I told him my diagnosis and how much pain I was in

And he laughed.

Got a real hoot out of it, like he had me all figured out. Like he caught me trying to cheat the system. I must be trying to get high or make some money with a few days worth of norco as i'm nearly in tears from the pain even while calling

He tells me through his laughter "I don't prescribe painkillers for 'kidney infections'" saying it with a mocking emphasis on those words, as if I'd said "stubbed toe". Follows with "Yeah haha, bye." and hangs up on me. No follow up like I called for. Needless to say I no longer have a pcp but truly if he thought I was an addict trying to take advantage of him he should have still treated me professionally. Maybe not cackled when I said my pain was excruciating for a start

I just don't understand why the hell so many doctors can be so apathetic to people's suffering. Addicts deserve better and so do disabled people- whether you think they're addicts or not. The assumption that we're lying, trying to trick them and are feigning pain to do it is disgusting, listening to your patients is so important. And if that were the case they could have some sympathy and ask themselves what it would take for someone to go those lengths, take such drastic measures and go through that trouble to obtain those substances.

Addiction is not a moral failing. Many disabled and chronically ill people unfortunately rely on medications that have addictive properties. About 80% of heroin addicts first misused prescription drugs. However only about 4-6% of those addicted to prescription drugs switch to things like heroin. And instead of help or compassion for people who just need help (addicts or not), they just figure we're one in the same and treat us like subhuman degenerates, leeches on society. And I think people need to change how they view addiction. Doctors need to change how they view addiction

[falling-star-cygnus]

Gabin can't be acting perturbed that Tobias wants to sever a critic’s fingers and then turn around to pull a rock the size of a fucking bouncy ball out of his bag

"...what is that?" "A rock."

"Where did you get a rock?" "I always have a rock." "You just- walk around Paris with a giant rock..?"

if no one else utilizes this information in fanfics, TRUST that i will. and that i have ��� ao3 fic: here please leave a comment or reblog if you enjoyed!!!

It always smelled nice, after it rained.

At least, Tobias thought so. There was something about the freshness about it, or the way the clouds hung around afterwards, that set something loose in his chest.

Or maybe it was the breeze? Or how the clouds dimmed everything down from harsh, too bright, too loud, LOOK AT ME buildings and signs to something tolerable- something he could keep his head up in.

But Paris was always kind of dim like that. Sort of. He didn't know if it was like that everywhere in Paris. Maybe he should google it later-

Either way- the only thing he didn't quite like was the stickiness in the air afterwards, the one that made the skin around his eyes tight and puffy.

Oh- and the puddles, he did not care for the puddles.

But still largely a positive.

"Top Gun, you are making the scrunchy-face," Gabin says from beside him, and his hand moves as if to gesture at said 'scrunchy face' and-

"Cheyenne called it that too," Tobias turns towards his.. his something, to the person he was holding hands with, "Is it really scrunchy? No one ever called it that in New York."

His hand tightens around Gabin's, without his permission.

Which was rude of it, he thought, considering he also liked to think that he was in charge of his body. But apparently not. So. Whatever.

"What did they call it in New York?"

If the dancer noticed, he didn't say anything. But he also didn't try and gesture with that hand again.

Little victories. Or a big victory?

"I don't really think they called it anything," he says.

If they did, he never heard it.

Gabin makes one of his french humming noises- acknowledging and playful and a little thoughtful. This one was a bit lower than his 'what the hell are you talking about' noise.

"It is a cute face," the dancer decides on, which- what? "But worrying also, because it usually means you are thinking about something."

Oh.

Tobias looks down at his chest when it decides to do a funny little lurch thing, like falling when you're right on the edge of sleep. But- warmer? Stabbier?

He'd never had someone.. know things about him before. Know his habits and faces and ticks. Not even with Kevin.

Although Kevin did know he liked tortillas. Was that niche information? Did that count?

It was weird, regardless. To be known. But not- bad weird. Even with the stab metaphor.

Could there be a good stab metaphor?

"And there it is again."

"Hm?"

"What do you mean 'hm?', Tobias, the face."

"What face?"

Usually, he never knew how much he's irritated a person until after they'd already rolled their eyes and walked away. There was a limit to how much he could forget or gloss over in a conversation, he knew that.

He didn't know where that limit was.

He didn't know if it even existed within Gabin.

The dancer closes his eyes, excruciatingly similar to all the other faces he'd seen, and stops walking. His chest lurches again, in a distinctly unpleasent way.

But- it just looked like Gabin was fighting a smile. A whoosh of air escapes his nose as he drags his hand- the one not still snugly intertwined with his- down his face.

"May I?" he asks, reaching for Tobias' face. But not touching yet.

Waiting. Hovering.

It's startling, he doesn't expect it, he doesn't know how to deal with things he can't expect- but he finds himself nodding anyway. Gabin... probably wouldn't ask like that just to punch him in the jaw.

Hopefully.

Plus his palm was open. Open palms typically didn't mean punches. Oh god, he wasn't going to slap him, was he?

Was he!?

"Breathe, Maverick," the dancer coaxes, and then his thumb his rubbing under his eye.

No, rubbing isn't the right word- it's too gentle for that. But carressing sounds wrong, and that word's too gentle for what hes doing.

It's kinda like.. an eraser? Like if he tries hard enough he could smooth out all the tension within Tobias' face. It was kind of working.

Especially when Gabin moved upwards, to the bridge of his nose and further still to between his brows. When had he closed his eyes? He didn't remember doing that.

Why wasn't his body listening to him today?

Tobias opens his eyes again- or tries to. It's surprisingly very hard when someone is feeling around the area.

"It is not so much of a scrunch, ehhh, so much as a pinch?" Gabin brushes over his eyebrow, "All focused. Right. Here."

Each following word gets punctuated with a firm, but not painful, tap to the bridge of his nose by the dancer's pointer and middle.

"It's a cute face, Tobias. I am not mocking you. I promise."

Well that was nice to know.

"...I didn't think you were mocking me, Gabin."

Hebreathes out, maybe in relief or maybe fondly- Tobias couldn't tell one way or another- and brings their joined hands up to his lips.

"I am glad," so in relief then..? "Now, will you tell me what you were thinking about? Please?"

And that word gets punctuated with a kiss to his knuckles.

Because they're still holding hands. Because Gabin hadn't let go. Because he wasn't upset..?

"Just the rain, mostly," Tobias says, unable to stop himself from glancing down again and again and again at their remaining point of contact.

"You were upset because of the rain?"

Was now a bad time to think about how much he liked the way Gabin pronounced the 'th' sound? It always came out sort of zee-ish, like a whir. Especially when he was confused.

That was when his french noises rose in pitch too.

It was adorable, but he should probably clear up the misunderstanding before it got too out of hand.

"No, not because of the rain," he denies, and shakes his head for good measure too.

A furrow creases Gabin's brow, "But you were upset?"

"...no. Well- not at first."

Pause. Someone kicks a can down the sidewalk.

"Start from the beginning."

Well. That was as clear an invitation to ramble as any, wasn't it? Tobias had been trying to get better at cutting back on those. At least in group settings.

Two counted as a group, right? It should, you could cast an entire ballet with two people.

"Uh.." Tobias looks up towards the clouds- "Okay."

He needs both hands for this. But also he didn't want to let go of Gabin's hand. And that was very confusing because he'd never felt that way about touch before.

Before he knew it, he'd started talking.

"At first I was thinking about the rain and what I like about it and, of course that led what I don't like about the rain and that's usually just the fact that makes my face feel weird. Oh and the puddles, I do not like the puddles. Especially when people like- drive through them? Intentionally? Huge mess."

Also it usually ended up with him getting drenched.

Alright, point one: down.

Now for point two-

"And then it was the face thing, I got really caught up on the face thing, Is it really scrunchy? Because when I think of scrunchy all I think of are those- hair accessory things. But also, you know me so well-"

Oh, and their hands are no longer connected. Okay. All the better to gesticulate with. He's always been told it's rude to point, but sometimes it's necessary. Right?

Right.

"I've never had someone who knows me as well as you do. Not even my parents, or my sister."

"You have a sister?"

Tobias only gives his.. lover? Partner? They hadn't really discussed labels yet... his something a flat look.

"Right, sorry. Continue." Gabin gestures him onward.

Onto point three then. Fuck the rest of point two entirely, for several reasons.

"Okay, last part is the shortest. When you were asking to touch my face? And your palm was just sorta hovering?"

He gives a quick demonstration- very brief. And then pulls his hand away. Was face touching allowed yet? Like actual full-on contact? Could he do that?

"Like that. Anyway- there was like.. maybe two seconds where I thought you were going to slap me-"

Gabin chokes on his own spit, "What!?"

"You said you wouldn't interrupt!"

"No," oh that was another french noise, "I said 'continue'. That is not the same thing!"

...technically true. Okay, very true. But if he could just-

"I would never hit you," Gabin emphasizes, scandalized, "You know that right? It is important to me that you know that-'

Oh, and they were holding hands again. Both hands this time.

Although it wasn't really holding so much as his something had wrapped up both of Tobias' hands in his and held them to chest level. He was still talking.

...!

Still talking!

"-honestly, Tobias, that is worrying. Have you been hit before?"

Uh.. well. No. Yes?

He doesn't know what counts as a hit or not, alright, or how severe something has to be to qualify as a a bad hit or a playful hit. People did that sometimes right?

In the end, all Tobias can do is shrug- helpless to a fault. Like always.

"Tobias-"

Gabin takes a deep, steadying breath, "Alright. We will talk about that later- after we finish our walk."

"Well now it's going to be the only thing I think about.."

"Then think about it on our way back to your apartment. I want a list."

A list? A list of what?

...surely he didn't mean-

"Yes, Top Gun, that kind of list."

"This isn't Scott Pilgrim, Gabin, you're not going to fight my exes-"

The dancer drops Tobias' hands to intertwine one pair again, and then starts back off to the building that they’ve spent more of their time together in than they’ve ever apart.

"Not fight. I will not track them down," he compromises, probably, "But if I see them.."

"No, you are not getting suspended again-"

"Ah.. but they'll have to catch me to suspend me, no?"

"You've gotten caught every single time so far!"

They go back and forth like that for a while, neither truly serious nor completely joking. It's not until they reach relatively 'the finish line' of their walk that it happens.

A car shows up.

It's not Genevieve, who Tobias will swear has a secret sixth sense specifically for tracking him, no it's just some dude.

And a puddle.

Gabin had taken to walking on the outside of the sidewalk- for reasons the choreographer's not entirely sure of- so realistically, he knows that it won't be him getting the brunt of the inevitable splash attack.

It still sucks. Arguably even more so, because then they'll both need showers before doing anything even remotely relaxing and that'll be a drag all by itself.

Ugh.

Whatever, he's resigned himself to it. Paris really isn't all that different from New York, is it?

But Gabin is monumentally different than Kevin.

Kevin always walked on the inside of the sidewalk, closest to the buildings. Whenever cars wanted to splash some unfortunate victim, it was always Tobias that got soaked the most.

Gabin pulls a rock out of his bag. The rock.

The weirdly square shaped one that's supposedly always on him.

And the car immediately stops its curve towards the curb.

It's a whole spectacle really, the way the dancer lets go of Tobias' hand to point menacingly at the car and make french noises. Threatening french noises.

Tobias finds he really likes the way those sound too.

Or maybe he just likes all the sounds Gabin makes..

The car drives away without a fuss, and without splashing them. And without broken windows. They're still slightly sticky from all the humidity in the air but they're dry. All because Gabin threatened to throw a rock.

It was nice. Nice like the smell of rain, and nice like being known, and hand holds, and not being hit.

It was nice being known. But only if the person who knew him was Gabin Roux.

Tobias thought, maybe, as their hands intertwined again, it was nice like something he could get used to.

“Were you really going to throw your rock at that guy?”

“Of course I was going to throw my rock at that guy, Tobias, he was going to drown us-”

[cumplanecrash]

If you saw this at 6 am, no you didn't. Tumblr wouldn't do that to me, we're too close for that 🤣🤣🤣

Over 1200 words of panic! in the bamboo house, including the snippet I posted last Wednesday. It's a beefy boy because I'm far enough ahead that I feel like I have enough buffer to edit with a clear head, so splitting it up in the middle of a scene just feels petty. This part follows directly from chapter 1 of the AO3 version.

Also please tell me if I'm using any words wrong, I am very new here haha

AO3 🔗 just the updates 🔗 writeblogging this au 🔗 first 🔗 prev

How the fuck did Qi-ge figure out something was wrong this quickly?

And just why was he here? They'd been on-Peak for a shichen tops, and Shen Jiu didn't know exactly what Shen Yuan did when he had to deal with the sect leader (he very purposely buried himself into his metaphysical blankets whenever Yue Qingyuan came around), but even if he filed his reports promptly, it still took time for characters to be written and ink to dry.

Fucking -- if Yue Qi had ever had a weakness, it was children. Especially bratty little boys named Shen Jiu who chased other children with legitimate intent to kill, wearing ill fitting robes that had been dragged through the mud. (Just a bit! As little as possible, because Shen Qingqiu's disciples did not deserve to have their belongings ruined! But, even shrunk, the robes were sized for teenaged disciples, not toddlers.) The scene felt designed to ensnare Yue Qi's sympathy, and even more distressingly, his meddling.

"Two Xiao Jius...?" Yue Qingyuan was saying with quiet awe. Which! Was exactly what Shen Jiu was talking about!

"No!" Shen Jiu shouted from his hiding place behind Shen Yuan, impulse control of a four year old combined with the speech-compelling aspects of the curse, difference clear now that he had felt one without the other. "Two Shen Qingqius, only one Xiao Jiu!"

"Don't get it twisted!" Shen Yuan sounded just as angry in front of him, crossing his arms and stamping his foot. "There's a nice categorization system already in place; don't confuse everybody needlessly."

"Yeah!" Shen Jiu shouted. "Don't get it twisted!"

Very helpful addition, that.

Shen Jiu did his best not to hold it against himself -- running his mouth had been his most fatal flaw throughout most of his childhood, such as it was, no matter how many times he should have learned to hold his tongue -- but he couldn't help but be frustrated. They still hadn't come up with much of a plan for how to handle the other Peak Lords, and now he was hiding from Qi-ge while yelling at him, as if that made any sense.

Qi-ge went to one knee, staring directly into Shen Jiu's eyes as he said, "Xiao Jiu." His gaze refocused slightly to Shen Jiu's right, "And...? I'm sorry."

"Yue-da-ge doesn't--" Shen Yuan started, before making a retching sound. Shen Jiu quickly glanced to make sure it was an affectation. "A-Yuan never had a chance to say. The curse is effecting our word choices, by the way."

A large, warm hand cradled his left cheek; he could see the other hand move to mirror the move on Shen Yuan. "Xiao Jiu and A-Yuan have been suffering. Not to worry; you'll have access to any resources the sect can rally to resolve this." He turned to Ning Yingying, visible in the doorway behind him now that he was kneeling. "I assume Mu-shidi has already been called?"

Shen Jiu turn his head, making a face, only to find himself looking into the eyes of Shen Yuan, also making a face.

"A-Yuan had hoped to have more information to share before troubling Yue-da-ge and Mu-ge," Shen Yuan blatantly lied.

Huh. The System had called it a speech-compelling curse, not a truth-compelling curse. Useful, that.

"And clothes that fit," Shen Jiu added, nodding to Ning Yingying.

"And something more substantial to eat than whatever snacks we all had in our pockets," adds Luo Binghe's voice from farther outside. "Of which there should be enough to go around, if Zhangmen-shibo is inclined to stay while Shizun and Shizun make themselves presentable."

Shen Yuan cupped his hands around his mouth to call out, "Stick with the same names, Bing-ge! This situation is already confusing enough without all that!"

There was a pointed silence where everyone wondered whether the cheeky little brat would actually take that liberty, and Luo Binghe blushed furiously. "Ah, Yuan-shizun and Jiu-shizun...?"

Shen Jiu waved his arms to negate the notion, backing from Shen Yuan a step to accomodate the movement. "Xiao Jiu isn't anybody's shizun," he said quickly. "Yuan-ge has the golden core and the people skills; he's got all that covered."

Yue Qingyuan gave him a sharp look at that, but he had also made enough room for the disciples to enter, and Shen Jiu needed to be able to take more than a step without stepping on his borrowed robes in order to have this conversation.

"Yingying-jiejie, hand that here, please," he chirped quickly. "Yuan-ge and Xiao Jiu can help each other make sure everything lays right, don't worry about us!"

"Everything smells delicious, Bing-ge," Shen Yuan said warmly. To be fair, it really, really did. "Don't let Yue-da-ge bully you out of your own room, okay? This is Bing-ge's home too."

The no-so-little-anymore beast blushed luminescently at that, and, well. Shen Yuan had certainly done a good job changing their prewritten fate! Given the choice, Shen Jiu would rather be a calamitous beauty than the victim of poetic justice. Just. Just leave all those parts to Shen Yuan to be awake for.

Getting dressed in appropriate robes did not actually leave much room for private conversation, especially with the sect leader on high alert so close to the door, so Shen Jiu did not have much extra time to confer with Shen Yuan. "Do we have a plan, or...?

"Keep it as vague as possible?" Shen Yuan hissed as he tugged at the side of Shen Jiu's robes, laying them straighter. "None of the things we know are actually relevant, if you think about it."

"Speech-compelling curse," Shen Jiu ticked off, tugging his hair out from where it had gotten caught. Did they have time to tie it up? Shen Yuan had the now-oversized guan when they'd been split, but Shen Jiu's hair was loose and likely greasy as all hell, in a way it hadn't been since the Qiu estate. "Speech controlling curse, at least enough to misdirect." One of the more complicated ones then.

"And almost entirely separately, the transformation," said Shen Yuan, dragging him over to his (Shen Jiu's? Shen Yuan's? Shen Qingqiu's.) bronze mirror and digging into the boxes on the table until he found the simpler ribbons he used when he braided his hair for bed. Yeah, good enough. "It couldn't have been two spells though, it was so fast -- way faster than the demon had been up until then."

"Activating a preset array of some kind?" Shen Jiu asked. "Why there?"

"The only one who could tell us is now very, very dead," Shen Yuan noted with sad finality. What an innocent soul, to mourn a demon who had inflicted such a hardship on them.

"Remember to teach your disciples that they can't question the dead," Shen Jiu told Shen Yuan's reflection in the mirror. "They're teenagers, so it's a forgivable oversight, but it's always easier to interrogate even a liar than a corpse."

"Our disciples," Shen Yuan said with conviction.

"That is not the deal the System and I made," Shen Jiu told him with the same strength of conviction. "It's not fair, but you can't actually make me go back."

"Oh." Shen Yuan draped himself across Shen Jiu's shoulders. "You said that. I keep expecting to have to fight for my right to be here, but you really want me here?"

"Gege," Shen Jiu chided. "I really hated teaching. And being Peak Lord comes with way more responsibilities than privileges. Sorry, but you'll have to be stuck with the shit end of the stick." And Shen Jiu flounced out of there.

Next

[ericshoney]

Finding out ~ Secret Sister AU

Summary: Nick, Matt and Chris find out they aren't actually triplets, but in fact, quadruplets.

Warnings: possible swearing, nicknames, crying, reunion, random names for adopted parents, talks of adoption, mentions of sickness, money troubles, slight angst with fluff ending.

a/n: you guys asked for a series, here it comes!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Nick, Matt and Chris went home for some family time in Boston, they didn't expect to be hit with news like this. The trio knew something was going on, because they were picked up by Justin, that usually only happened near Christmas, so knowing their older brother was home as well, made them confused.

When the brothers got home, they were greeted by their parents and told they needed to talk.

"Is something going on?" Nick asked, breaking the ice.

"We've been keeping something from you guys for a while and now you've turned twenty-one, we've decided it was best to come clean." Jimmy started.

"Nick, Matt and Chris, you aren't actually triplets. Your quadruplets." MaryLou said.

"What?" Matt called.

"Wait, there's another one!" Chris shouted, making his parents laugh slightly.

"You guys have a sister." Their dad admitted.

"Woah." Justin muttered.

"Why are we only finding out now?" Nick asked.

"When I was pregnant with you, I thought I was just having you guys. It wasn't until further into the pregnancy I found out I was having quads. It was an amazing experience and I was very excited. But money was a trouble and we didn't know if we could afford looking after five kids at once. So when you were all born, we made the very hard decision to put your sister up for adoption. She went to a very kind family who we kept in contact with and they told her the truth too." Their mother answered.

"She wants to meet us all. She'll be here in the morning." Jimmy added.

"Wow, that's a lot to take on board." Matt said.

"We understand and we're sorry we kept it from you. Honestly if I could turn back time, I'd never put her up for adoption." Their mother said sadly.

"You had to do what was best, What's her name?" Chris asked.

"Y/n. She kept the Sturniolo too." She answered.

The four brothers nodded and decided to go rest in their rooms, all taking in the new information, knowing the next morning they'd met their sister.

~~~

At ten o'clock the next morning, there was a knock at the door. MaryLou went to open it and when she saw a girl with bright blue eyes and long brown hair, she instantly knew.

"Hi." You called softly.

"Hi honey. Come in." Your birth mother replied.

You stepped into the house and instantly felt warm. You looked around and smiled at the cozy home.

"I want to start off by saying sorry, I feel horrible about giving you up." MaryLou said.

"I'm not upset. Jacky and Luke told me everything and I fully understand. It's not everyday you suddenly have quads." You said, making her smile.

"You look just like your brothers." She then said, hugging you tightly.

You smiled and felt tears in your eyes. You loved your adopted parents you really did, but this was the woman who gave birth to you. It was even more special.

"Come, your dad and brothers through here." She said, taking your hand.

You followed your mum into the living room, where you saw who you assumed was your dad and brothers. Three of which looked very similar to you.

"Fuck you look just like Matt!" One shouted.

"That's Jimmy, your dad. That's Justin, your older brother and those are you quad brothers. Nick, Matt and Chris." Your mum introduced.

You gave a wave and realised it was Chris who made the comment. Each came over and gave you a warm hug, making you feel even more at home.

"I hope you can forgive us, sweetheart." You dad said, wrapping his arms around you.

"I was never angry or upset in the first place. It was something I understood and knew one day I'd get to meet you all. Honestly wasn't expecting the mirror images though." You replied, making him laugh.

"What were you told by your....um....careers?" Matt asked.

"My adopted parents, Jacky and Luke. They told me that I was adopted when I was ten. Said my birth name is Y/n Sturniolo and they didn't feel it was right to take that away from me, so I never took their last name. They said my birth parents were close to them and still in touch to this day. I kept every birthday card you sent me." You answered, looking at your parents, who both smiled wide.

"They also said I had brothers, but never that I was a quad." You continued.

They nodded and asked you more questions about yourself, wanting to know more about you. Chris then perked up and asked a very important question.

"Am I older than her?" He asked excitedly.

"Yes honey, two minutes older." Your mum answered.

Chris cheered, making you all laugh as he hugged you tightly, something that shocked you a bit.

"Finally a little sister!" He shouted.

"By two minutes, bud." You responded.

"Still." He responded, sticking his tongue out.

"Are we sure?" Matt called, making you laugh.

"Yes honey." MaryLou assured.

You smiled and continued talking with your birth family, feeling happy about being reunited and welcomed into their arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[orchid-merryweather]

My brain: be normal be normal be normal be normal be normal this person could be your friend don't fuck it up please be normal

Me: so yeah in world war one soldiers couldn't see the faces of normal watches when in the trenches when it got dark so there were watches made with luminous paint so they could see the numbers. The problem was that this luminous paint was made from radium and they were all hand painted, and the painters who were all women because all the men were at war had to use these special brushes when painting that had a superfine tip but to keep the tip pointed they'd have to point the brush with their lips and what that means is that they put the tips of the brushes in their mouths and by doing that they all ended up injesting some of the radium. The radium then got deposited in their bones and made them horribly sick, like their jawbones started disintegrating in their mouths and when that caused them to lose teeth the wounds from the lost teeth never healed properly and then would get infected and they also got tumors and they lost a bunch of weight and became really weak and all kinds of horrible things because of radiation poisoning. At first nobody thought that this could've been from the radium because it was believed to be a kind of magical cure all. And when some people started to suppose that it could be related to the radium many people didn't believe them and those of the women who were still alive and well enough and brave enough to try to earn compensation for their illness faced an extremely hard time. They were viewed as greedy liars and were shunned in their communities for it and when a doctor of the girls said that the condition of radium poisoning was fatal and without any cure the hearing had to be halted because one of the girls just about fainted in the court room. Eventually these girls were lucky enough to win their case and they were compensated for their illness and doctor visits and that some of them had to pay nannies because they were physically unable to care for their kids, some of the girls managed to live happy lives after this despite their condition but one of them died pretty much directly after she was informed that they won the case. Other women that sued their employers for them having gotten radium poisoning were given compensation so little that it was insulting and others didn't even win their cases or settle out of court and they got nothing. This was when workers protection and compensation laws didn't do anything and those of the women and their lawyers that got compensation had to fight tooth and nail to get anything. And many of the women died without ever knowing what was wrong with them and getting misdiagnoses ranging from doctors doing their best with what information they had and diagnosing them with phosphorus poisoning to downright insulting and absolute preposterous diagnosises of syphilis. These women were in some places called ghost girls for the way they literally glowed when they left their jobs because of the radium paint and radium powder they ended up covered in, the nickname "ghost girls" ended up having a different meaning though, because of what the radium poisoning did to their bodies. There are/were also more widely called the radium girls because obviously of their relationship with radium and I read this book about them and

[appleblueberry-pie]

Yandere Lesbian Nurse Geto x Female Nurse Reader

Geto has been a nurse in the biggest hospital in Tokyo for 5 years. And for all 5 years, I have been working beside her. Taking a ridiculous amount of patients, working my ass off, but ultimately being able to put food on my table. Geto has been a great co-worker and friend to me. She'd start her shift at the same time as mine just so we can have a lunch break together. She sometimes steps off of her main task to help me with my patients if she can and even gives me an extra bag of her homemade lunch if she finds out I don't have any.

She's so sweet and caring to me. But I don't hear the same from everyone else I work with.

They'd say outrageous things about her. To me specifically, as if I could do anything about it. "Because she fucking kisses at your feet." They'd spit. "Maybe if you soften her up, she'll consider my offer when my shift is over," they'd chuckle. It's mostly the male doctors who come up to me with this information. Which makes it hard for me to take them seriously. And I don't believe them. How could such a nice woman be as they describe her? Foxy, arrogant, sly, and greedy. I don't see that in her. Therefore, their words mean nothing. Her dark-lipstick stained lips slightly curl up in amusement as I turn my back to the doctor, walking back over to her.

She loves the way you think. It makes her job way easier. Get closer to you, and she'll get her much deserved prize.

I see Geto leaning against the wall as I approach. "I hope you didn't hear what he said." She shrugs and meets me halfway. "It doesn't matter. Words don't matter like that. You learn that early in this field of work." I nod and smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right. So, what do you have planned for the rest of today?"

This is how my usual work day goes. Unnecessary rumors, casual conversation with Geto and then go home. But I guess something was in the air today. Because when I finished eating my lunch alone(surprisingly), I walked into the staff room and found Geto screaming at one of the doctors. He and her were separated by one wooden circular desk and they were both standing. She was leaning over the table as if she wanted to lunge over it to kill him.

"You fucking asshole. If you just listened to me, I would've given you all of the sex you wanted! But you fucking talked to her. AGAIN. You've been pissing me off too many times." She scoffs and turns away from him, holding her head as if she had a headache. He walks around the table and approaches her, placing his hands on her shoulder. "Suguru, forget about her. Why do you care about her? She's a nobody. You're everything she's not, can't you see? You make way more than her, you're prettier than her, and you work more harder. We're the same."

He smiles as Geto relaxes against him. My eyebrows furrow at their words. What the hell was going on? Were they shit talking me? Why did she make that absurd deal with him? And I've never heard anyone call Geto by her first name. They didn't see me yet, and I stood there silently, waiting to see where this conversation would go.

Geto nodded before looking back up at him, a smile on her face. He smiles back before his eyes trail to her lips. When he inches closer, Geto pulls a full syringe from a hidden strap on her thigh and stabs it into his neck, injecting whatever it was into his blood. The doctor chokes on his words, face turning red as he falls to the ground. Geto doesn't even glance down at him before turning towards the door, only to see me there. "Y/n...." I stare at her in horror. She runs towards me and I flinch out of my frozen position. I am only one step back before she yanks me in, slamming the door shut. I can still hear the doctor gasping for breath and I shove Geto away from me. "I can't trust you...get the fuck away from me." My heels click against the floor as I speak.

She slowly approaches me again. "You don't mean that..." I nod, stressed. "Yes. I do." A weird look of happiness overcomes her face before she pushes me through an open door. I fall on my ass, yelping in pain. She storms into the room as well, shutting the closet door and turning the light on. She towers over me and I look up at her, regret filling my chest. They were right. And I didn't listen to anyone. How come I couldn't ever see it?

"Oh, you fucking liar," I whisper.

My skirt rides up and I can feel my upper thighs brushing against the cool marble floor. I hate this closet for this exact reason. I look up, only to see Geto staring back down at me with a look of adoration on her face. Which makes no sense considering she just illegally penetrated a licensed doctor with a needle filled with drugs to knock him out.

Confusion crumbles and turns into fear, my breaths slowly increasing as she fondly looks down at me as if I was a little useless deer, far, far away from mom. Her red heels clack against the floor as she walks closer. I scoot back, my skirt riding up higher in the process and she coos. I gasp at the feeling of the point on her stiletto suddenly rubbing between my pussy lips through the fabric of my panties. "Ohhh, there we go. See? It feels so good, doesn't it, baby? C'mere.."

She steps over my legs before kneeling, her knees trapping me in place. She takes my face in her hands and immediately places her soft lips onto mine. My eyes widen and I can feel her desperately initiating the control. My eyebrows furrow when a warm muscle slips from between her lips into my mouth and I whimper. She swallows it and kisses me harder. I can feel her resting her weight onto my lap, her panties underneath her uniform brushing my core above my work skirt.

I separate the kiss, gasping for air and turning my head to the side. She presses messy kisses down my jawline and neck. I begin to feel dizzy as her hands travel down my chest, groping it before groping at everything else they can get at. "Geto..." I breathe out her name. She whines and grinds herself against me. I feel a throb between my legs and push her away from me. She looks confused and a little sad at me pushing her away and I shake my head.

"No...no, this isn't right. Y-you just drugged a doctor a-and we can't do thi-"

"I love you!!!"

My world stops as she stares at me, tears filling her eyes. "I fucking love you....i've loved you ever since I began working here. I cook you my food, I take some of your own work, I turn down everyone for you, for you! I do everything for you. I still work here for you, I...I turned down my promotion just to be near you. T-that fucking sleazebag I drugged?? He secretly wanted you. But I want you more..."

Her eyes are gone as she gathers her words. I am frozen. No sound is heard besides our breaths. Her face turns to stone as she looks back up at me. "I want you more. I deserve you. You ungrateful piece of shit."

She grabs me by the hair, fingers digging into my scalp as she stands back up. I yelp and she tells me to shut up. "I'm gonna make you love me back." She sounds like she's trying to convince herself.

"Pull my panties down." I stare up at her, frozen and confused. "Pull my fucking panties down. Now." My hands wander towards her underwear under her uniform and I feel around her warm skin until I find the thin thong bands and i pull them down, trying so hard to ignore the string of slick connected to them. "Good girl....come eat me out." Her voice is softened as she spreads her legs for me. I look back up into her eyes and she smiles softly, a look too put-together in her eyes. She's fucking nuts. Her fingers tighten once more on my scalp and I cringe, pushing her skirt up until I see her pink pussy in the shitty closet lighting. I lean closer to it, staring her in the eye as I lick a stripe of her juices from between her warm and sensitive lips.

Her eyes roll back into her lids and her head tips back, a shameless moan leaving her lips. A part of me enjoys this moment between me and her despite everything leading up to this moment. I'm on autopilot as I grab her legs, spreading them further apart as I force my tongue to continue eating her out, ravaging my first meal of the day despite it being 10:30 at night. "I know you didn't eat lunch today." She slurs out, a small squeal leaving her lips when I suck on her clit. She then giggles. "So, this is your meal. Do you like it? Does it taste good, baby?"

I hum, staring her right in the eyes. My face is deep between her soft and warm thighs. I remain eye contact as my tongue finds her entrance. The cold tip of my nose presses firmly against her wet and erect clit. That's when she pulls my face away from her cunt. The bottom half of my face is soaked in her juices. She takes a deep breath before softly loosening the grip on my hair. My face relaxes as she lets me go. She gets back down onto my lap, straddling me. "Please. No more." I plead, exhausted. She caresses my face before bringing her hands to my uniform shirt. "It's okay. I'm gonna take care of you."

She tears my shirt open, biting her lip at my beautiful choice of bra. She makes me take my shirt and bra off, immediately pawing at the tender breasts when they're freed. "So pretty." I sit back, resting on one arm, spreading my legs out. She doesn't even finish her initial thought before sucking on one of my nipples. I sigh in regrettable pleasure. She gets off of my lap, sitting next to me as one of her unseen hands trail down beneath my skirt, between my legs to touch at my damp underwear. I flinch lightly and she pulls off of the nipple.

"Be a good girl and moan for me, okay?" I didn't know what she was talking about until she swiftly pulls my panties to the side and firmly slides two fingers into my cunt like it was nothing. I gasp and she hums in acknowledgement. I whine lightly as her fingers thrust in and out of me. They feel a little rough as she also kisses around my chest, creating hickeys in-between kisses. She then starts curling her fingers on that spongey spot inside of me and my back arches at the pleasure blooming in my lower stomach. "Like that?" She asks. "L-" As soon as I speak, it's cut off from her fingers rubbing quicker on that one spot, the pleasure increasing twice as much. A pathetic moan escapes my lips instead. "Hm?? Just like that?" She asks again as I throw my head back, almost hovering over my body from where I lay. I nod, my eyes squeezed shut. A satisfied smile spreads across her lips as I suddenly moan loudly, squirt gushing out of my pussy onto her hand. Obscene squelching sounds echo throughout the room as she continues her assault on my hole.

"Fuck, no more! No more, please..." I beg and she immediately listens, pulling her fingers out of me. I relax, my back hitting the ice cold marble floor. I try to catch my breath, rubbing my face as if trying to find the sense I once had. Geto sucks my juices off of her fingers, ecstasy flowing through her veins at the taste. She tastes every last drop on her hand and even considers licking what I left on the ground. But I'm more important. She turns back to me and leans over my naked torso, kissing my forehead. "I love you, y/n."

"..." I look back into her expecting eyes. What happens if I say it back? Will it even matter? At this point, I completely forgotten the things she had done before we ended up in the closet. "I love you, too." Her eyes sparkle and she laughs as if I just proposed to her. Her hands find my cheeks once more, cradling my face as she kisses me. The kiss is soft, warm, and domestic. She pulls away and her heart squeezes. "I have to take care of some business. Can you wait here for me?"

What else can I do? I nod. She stares at me for a little while longer before standing up. She leaves. It's silent. I'm half-naked, my mind is fuzzy, and bodily fluids are spilled on the floor. It's cold. What have I done to meet such a woman? She's probably gonna kill the doctor, and God knows what she'll do once she comes back to get me. But even after everything, I'm the one that has her wrapped around my finger. I just have to find a way to get out of what I put myself into.

[ghouldtime]

The Fuckery of the COD Sunshine Zine

Hey y'all, it's been absolute eons since I've been around. I've not been apart of the COD fandom for a while or writing but I felt that I had to speak up in case others weren't aware of what was going on with a specific Zine for the COD Fandom. Tagging them because at this point, everyone deserves answers.

Please ignore some of the tags though trying to get this post out there to be seen by the fandom since it's fucking bad.

@sunshine-soap-zine

Basically, in short, all money meant for the Zine and merch was used up by Micky (one of the people in charge of it). Merch has allegedly thankfully been made and SOME has been shipped out, digitial copies of the Zine exist, but the physical Zine itself? There's no money left.

Over $6,500 was raised in profits that was supposed to go to Care for Gaza and Stonewall Scotland, two important charities near and dear to many, but all of that was used up and now there isn't even money left for the physical Zines, much less the charities.

You read that right - over $6,500 USD was set and slated in proceeds were to go to charities progressing LGBTQ+ rights and supporting those in a genocide and it's all been used up by one person and they still don't have the money to produce physical Zines and to get them out to those who paid for them. That's not even counting the original money MEANT for the Zines themselves too.

The Zine was centered around our beloved Soap MacTavish - who happens to be my favorite character. Seriously, I absolutely adore Soap. He's my favorite beyond favorite, so when I saw there was a Zine that happened to come across my timeline, I was thrilled! Especially because there were many artists there who I've either bought work from prior or who I'd been following for a while and was happy to see them finally get their stuff printed!

And now it's been unfolding in a disastrous way and I'm so... baffled, disappointed, and pissed off. I'm putting this under the cut because this is going to be a VERY long post.

Now, before I start into this shitshow, let me make two things abundantly clear:

This is NOT related to the Soap Journal Zine - they are two SEPERATE projects run by different people. DO NOT GO AFTER THEM OR ASK THEM ABOUT IT, they are unrelated.

The moderators, writers, and artists had nothing to do with this. NOTHING They were just as unaware as we (the public and consumers) were. They were not informed of any of this until the twitter and instagram post early this morning/late last night. They're not responsible for the actions of the person in charge and had no clue this was happening. If they did, they'd be exactly as appalled as they are now, I'm sure. They would've done something. But multiple artists and people on the actual discord have come forward and said that they, flat out, weren't aware and have expressed their disappointment and anger.

DO NOT drag the moderators, writers, and artists. This isn't on them. The moderators are doing all that they can to try and fix things and are scrambling to find a solution for this clusterfuck. It's an absolute shit shown given what's been handed to them and how it's been dumped on them, but they're doing their absolute best. Plenty of them were victims of this too as they too contributed money and many of them bought bundles themselves!

Onto the meat of this.

This post was made on the instagram page and the twitter for the Zine:

And honestly? I'm not sure where to begin.

First and foremost, I'm not going to take into question their health. That's none of my business. I'm not going to call them a liar or state that that never happened - once again, none of my business. I'm not going to nitpick that and I do sincerely hope that they're well and things start to get better for them.

What DOES matter is that the money for the Zine was used up. It's gone. Y'know, the main anchor of the project that MANY artists put their blood, sweat, and tears into. A digital version was released months ago but the physical one is now into question.

Allegedly, all the other merch is on hand. Some people HAVE received some, but plenty others have not - especially those (like me) who had bundles.

Now, I'm not sure how much I actually believe this given that this bomb was dropped after months of near silence and the very rare occasional update.

I just said this but I'll say it again: I'm not sure where to begin because this is a fucking mess. So I guess I'll just start listing the issues first and foremost.

Issue A: Progress was routinely lied about.

These are exact screenshots from the twitter. We were told directly that EVERYTHING was being made and everything was on track.

And then came the first delay.

Now I'm like most people, I realize things happen. Just because there's one delay doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Sometimes things take longer to manufacture, sometimes they take longer to ship, sometimes there's an issue in quality and you need it redone. Hey, the world isn't perfect and neither are we. I didn't think too much of it.

So it was pushed off, Etsy gave a notification to review and did it's usual notification where it'd ask you to report if you have any issues. I, in good faith, didn't refund it. Because I figured that doing so would yank the rug out from underneath and could cause issues when it came to production and shipping. I had faith.

Then, November rolled around. Then December. January. February. Updates were sparse, they seemed to be getting merch in and together. This should've been more of a red flag, comments asking seemed to be met with general reassurance that it was still happening. Not really specific but still at least trying to say it would happen which started to get fishier than a sardine factory.

The fact that it was pushed off from November/December and now we're in May and only SOME people are getting merch speaks volumes.

But you want to know why I'm really questioning this?

Etsy's policy for refunds is, drum roll.... 180 days. Just about six months after an initial purchase.

And guess what time line that aligns with?

Oh, right. Exactly. It aligns EXACTLY solidly past with what we're being told and when. Which means refunds are basically on "if I have the money and if I'm able to get it and you'll have to take my word"

Disputing with the bank may also not work because for many, this is WAY over the time to dispute charges. It goes for Etsy, it goes for the bank, and credit cards which were purchased on. Basically, it gives a "you're shit out of luck amigo" level of time.

FOR THOSE WHO ARE HAVING A HARD TIME GETTING A CHARGE BACK FROM THEIR BANK, here's the information on how to file a fraud report, including for Non-US residents! https://reportfraud.ftc.gov/faq

(Including this because Micky basically fucked us every which way here by waiting out the period and I do not think this was anything but intentional)

Which screams that this was planned beyond planned because you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me that someone was dead silent on a project for months where they lost all the money because they were embarrassed alone.

Especially when the community, the artists, the mods, were incredibly amazing and VERY supportive. Hell, one artist who I've extensively bought merch from before even confirmed they'd have helped and would have tried to get shit figured out! Because that's the kind of people they are. They want to help, they understand things happen, they wanted everyone to get what they ordered as this is a passion project for them too. The point is, the mods would've at least had a plan and so much could've been avoided.

It all aligns far too suspiciously. Embarrassment? Like this isn't more fucking embarrassing? Like this isn't humiliating and stressful beyond admitting to your mods you fucked up and finding out a game plan instead of remaining radio silent?

Oh, by the way

THE ETSY SHOP IS CLOSED which makes it even harder by the way.

Yep.

Closed.

You can't leave a review. You can't comment. You can't do anything aside from hope Etsy might take your side, but after it's been this long, it's very unlikely to happen.

Issue B: They lied about donating the money to charity (allegedly).

I'm only saying allegedly because I do not have a screencap from the discord, seeing as I'm not on it, but I was told by someone who was in there that they were all told that the money raised for two charities was donated in December. I'm taking their word that they were told it was already donated.

Either way, point being, the proceeds were SUPPOSED to go to two charities.

And this wasn't a little pittle of money, oh no. This was supposed to be a big amount

And now that's most certainly not happening.

The entire reason I felt GOOD about getting literally everything (I mean I saved for the everything bundle, I went to the T-shirt and hoodie, I even BOUGHT RAFFLE TICKETS and won one of the prototypes for fucks sake) was because any profit was going to worthy causes. The profits weren't supposed to be lining anyone's pockets, it was supposed to be going to two very worthy charities that are helping actual people in need who could desperately use it.

(Linking to the charities right here BTW)

Care for Gaza

Stonewall Scotland

This massive amount of money was supposed to go there and yet now that's not going to happen because even the books can't be produced. The very core of it.

And (allegedly) they said that it had already been donated.

I cannot express how fucking furious I am that someone would do something so vile as LIE ABOUT DONATING TO A CHARITY THAT'S HELPING PROVIDE AID IN AN ACTIVE GENOCIDE

Let that sink in. Let that stew.

That's what Micky fucking lied about. That's where the money was supposed to go. And now? Now that won't ever come close. I'm furious, insulted, and a list of fifty other million things that will have me foaming at the mouth if I think of them.

How can you be so low as to LIE about that? To lie about giving money to those in need? To fuck up the funds that badly? I would say I have no words, but I do. Just right now, all of them would rightfully have to be censored for how fucking deplorable this is.

Issue C: The money not being in a separate account

Okay, so I'm no expert financial advisor, but I'm going to lay out what has to happen and what SHOULD happen for any project (especially a collaborative one)

Whenever a project is supposed to take place, money SHOULD be set aside in a separate account. This money is placed there because it's for that project, for that project alone, and shouldn't be touched. This is how things are funded. People gave you the money for something to be done, you put that money aside, you use that money and withdraw it when time comes to pay for production or whatever else that needs to be done.

It's in a separate account because that's not meant as YOUR money. Not until a project is done, and most certainly not to be lumped in with everything else. After all, you need to keep invoices and have your ducks in a row - especially when it's a massive amount and it comes time to do taxes. That streamlines it and is vital. It helps determine what expenses went where and is how you remain transparent.

Now, how a debit card works is that it's pretty much always automatically tied to a checking account. It will always pull money from said account when you use it. That's the basis of it and why it's not a credit card.

That means that all of the money was tied to a debit card and this card was GIVEN TO SOMEONE for use other than for the project. This was a debit card that was somehow casually used several times until the money was gone.

Now, I'm really calling bullshit or that's extreme money mismanagement. Because anyone who has run any business or project will tell you: Business funds separate, you do NOT mesh them with personal. That's not your money to use.

HOW was the money used on medical bills like that and that easily when it should've been in a separate fund?

Why was it tied to that debit card? Why was that casually carried around? Why was that given to someone who had no ties to the project?

And what would have been done if that money wasn't there? That's my question too.

The money wasn't handled properly and it resulted in it being GONE. Medical bills are an absolute bitch and a half and yeah, the American healthcare system sucks major sweaty donkey balls, but that's not what the money was for.

Sorry, that might come off as harsh but it's the truth. That money is not for personal use. You took on a project, you committed to it, you spent the money on something that wasn't that. Regardless of the cause, cause I'm not going to dig and debate on how true the medical stuff is, what happened is

The money isn't there and the money was used for something other than it's intended purpose - the money people GAVE to fulfill a project that they were eagerly waiting on, and plenty worked hard for.

That's fraud. Flat out. Shit happens but that's not shit happening alone. That's basic fraud. Wrongful deception that resulted in financial gain. And considering the fact that we were lied to for months, it easily falls under that definition.

Oh, also mentioning that this isn't a small amount of money given. Considering the donations were close to $7,000 USD, much MORE was taken in for everything - but that means that well over $7,000 was spent because that part was meant to be donated and yet there's still no money for the Zines.

I'm going to have good faith and will go with the merch is mainly done, because some people have gotten packages and received some. Maybe that's misguided, maybe I'm a hopeful cunt, but pics HAVE been shown of merch and some people have received them.

Point still is - the Zine isn't here. The physical version? Non-existent. We were lied to for MONTHS that it was under production and all was well.

The donations? Spent. Gone. Over $6,000 USD. There's no money left to produce the Zines. Money? Tied to a debit card and used on personal expenses.

Now I'm not entirely heartless, medical situations can put anyone in a hard place, but medical issues do not excuse misusing money given to you for something you PROMISED, a project you voluntarily took on, and lying for MONTHS on end until no one could get a refund without basically having to go to the god damn government to fist fight for it.

You cannot use money that's not yours for things that they're not for. End of story. Doesn't matter what happens, doesn't matter how valid the claims are or not, using money for what it wasn't intended for for your own personal sake is TEXTBOOK FRAUD.

This harms literally fucking everyone involved.

Obviously, the charities that the money was supposed to go to. Lying about giving money to charity is a low, promising to do it and using it on yourself for any reason is LOW. I'm sorry, I felt comfortable giving money because I knew profit would go to help struggling queer people and people victims of a literal genocide, not go towards one person in particular. That's disgusting, deplorable, and I've got no amount of bad words I can string together because nothing comes close to the hatred and vitrol I feel right now.

The artists who worked VERY hard on this and bless them, MANY ARE RELEASING THEIR ART AND STORIES FOR FREE ON THEIR PLATFORMS AFTER THESE EVENTS, now have this tied to their name through no fault of their own. This is a project that was a first for many of them - a first chance to see their art in a project, their first collaboration, their first time to get their art published and to feel it in their hands. And this is the thanks they get after being the backbone. The fucking disregard to these lovely people who were the backbone of the project and the only reason why it exists is appalling. To go radio silent on them, on the mods who HELPED, and to steal money out from under everyone is appalling, disgusting, and deplorable. They worked so damn hard on this and for many, this may be a reason why they never do a zine again, because it's that awful.

This is something that ties their name to a project that's now experiencing major drama and scandal. And if someone doesn't look into it, they might associate them with that, they might not buy from them (gods I hope that doesn't happen because they do not deserve this or any flak) - you're harming their livelihoods, their career, and are smearing mud on their reflections.

Here's a list of the artists who took part for anyone interested and PLEASE PLEASE support them if you can, even if it's only a like or reblog! Many are releasing their works to the public and all have been affected by this clusterfuck. They're absolutely amazing and have made beautiful pieces. I cannot say it enough that they've done wonderful work and deserve every bit of positive recognition outside of this fuckery.

This, naturally, financially harms the people who PAID for this. Me personally? I fucking saved for this and now I'm not sure I'm even going to get the basics of what I got. I spent about $400 USD which isn't anything light, this isn't chump change, or something I toss around likely. I know I'm lucky to even have that much but Christ on a cracker, I love Soap so much and thought it was going to good causes, I feel fucking sick knowing it didn't. I'm holding out hope that the mods can arrange something - I'll take what I can get, but I'll go fight tooth and nail for a refund if I don't.

Not blaming the mods either as this harms them like a grenade to the nads. They DID NOT KNOW, I'm stating this again, THE MODS TO THIS PROJECT WERE UNAWARE OF THIS RUG PULL. THEY ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE, THEY'RE HANDLING THE FALLOUT. They're doing the best they can but I'm not counting on miracles. After all, they've basically been woken up to being told ON FUCKING TWITTER AND INSTAGRAM "oh the money is gone I spent it. gonna try to get money for the zines sorz". My lord, I can't even imagine how awful I'd feel and the panic. Because now they have to scramble and run around like chickens with their heads cut off because they were thrown a flashbang of fuckery and now?

Micky disappears for the weekend.

That's really the icing on the cake.

Health issues or not, you can't drop this massive fucking nuclear bomb after months of near radio silence and then go off for the weekend and leave your mods to deal with that.

"I am doing everything in my power to rectify this situation"

HA

Bull. Fucking. Shit.

If you were, you wouldn't be leaving your mods for the weekend. You'd actually be addressing comments and concerns. You wouldn't be making MORE EMPTY PROMISES.

I'm not believing one word that comes out of Micky's mouth because I did before and look at where that got me. I'm not going to take the word and value of someone who says they'll refund after purposefully lying for MONTHS and waiting out the period that Etsy and most credit card companies will refund for.

If you wanted to do everything in your power, you'd not offer more hollow promises, you'd offer complete financial transparency, you'd actively START getting your ass to work on this instead of dropping a statement, saying three things, and scampering off.

If you were doing everything in your power, we wouldn't be here, now would we?

Leaving now is telling not only me that you don't give a fuck and you don't respect the situation, but you do not respect the very people who made this possible and helped you EVERY STEP OF THE WAY.

I'm irate, I'm furious, I'm so pissed off that I took a step back into the fandom and clawed my way out of the coffin where I buried myself for this.

You lied to me, you lied to the artists, the writers, the mods, the charities - to EVERYONE involved. You kept us all in the dark, you took our money and hard work, and spit in our face. And you go off for a god damn weekend after ripping out our hearts and trust alike, and leave them to clean up the mess you made for your own selfish sake.

Soap wouldn't fucking want this. Not for his memory to go down like this.

What a god damn sick way to "honor" it and to pretend like you care. Fictional character or not, he's my absolute favorite and means the world to me. If it weren't for him and COD, honestly I wouldn't be going down the career path I am, I wouldn't have the future I do. And I took a leap of faith because I wanted to support the community, I wanted to support the artists and writers who pour their heart and soul into what they do. I wanted to honor the silly fictional mohawk man who meant so much to me who, as stupid as it sounds, changed my life.

And this is the thanks we get for the community who supported you, who trusted you, who believed in you, who waited so patiently for this, who wanted to do something good not only for themselves but everyone around them, who were excited for this - who dared to hope for the best.

[catladyhere]

Humans Are Space Orcs

Right?

Okay, so, what if aliens were to see what our kind had developed merely for entertainment purposes, which is a completely baseless IDEA of what we expect aliens to be like.

This is the one that got me thinking. Alien Isolation. The absolute horror that we have spent time and effort to create, to scare ourselves. Because a Deathworld wasn't fucking enough. It's enough to send a human screaming and whimpering. An (apparently) apex predator species.

It was a random day in the space station where sentient beings of all kinds worked at. One of the more adventurous Jlorps, against their good judgement, decided to ask human Oliver about his favourite horror 'entertainment'. Horror was a fairly new concept being slowly understood by the other beings, but how an instinctive reaction in the face of imminent doom, was a pastime, or even a FAVOURITE pastime, was beyond them. However, Oliver could not resist showing them what a Xenomorph is.

Jlorp Ilof watched, frozen in sheer terror, as they saw what the human mind considered terrifying, suddenly remembering all the serious advice that others of his kind, and other aliens too, gave them regarding this particular killer species. What's worse, was that Human Oliver was e x c i t e d to show them their kind's work, which was meant to scare them, which has stopped being scary on account of Oliver not accepting defeat.

"Well.... what do you think?" Oliver asked carefully, as he had observed the previously confident Ilof, slowly start to change their colour from a bright yellow to a dull purple, their kind's indication of feeling fear. He could not help but cringe a little internally, as he really should have thought things through before introducing a prey species to something that scares a good number of his own people.

Ilof spoke after a while, trying to think how they will forget what they saw a minute ago. It was downright traumatising for them. Humans alone were capable of terrifying most of the beings in their galaxy, what were they even thinking, asking their human friend what they were scared of?

"But... why? Why is simulated terror entertaining??" Ilof asked, as they did the Jlorp equivalent of wiping one's cold sweat.

"Because." Olive protested, "It gets our adrenaline flowing. It's a 'flight or fight' response from our brain, when we're in danger. If you subtract the danger from a situation, and add the comfort of knowing you yourself will be safe, it only leaves behind a racing pulse, which... well, it makes us feel alive."

Ilof was at a loss for words.

Human beings liked being in danger, but not dying. But they'd also heard stories about how some humans had readily jumped in the face of danger, where death was certain, to save their comrades. There were too much information in their head, all of them either connected or contradictory.

"Okay, Oliver, so let me get this straight, your kind feels dead at times, somehow, and you simulate death and destruction, to soothe said 'deadness'?"

"Precisely." Oliver beamed, which made the Jlorp further uncomfortable.

"I think I will retire to my work station now."

Ilof never asked another human being, what 'horror' they liked best, choosing to religiously follow the advice from other aliens who have experienced humans and their bizarre rituals and pastimes.

#EarthIsSpaceAustralia

#humansarespaceorcs

[rekino2114]

hii could i ask how IT would be when the drdt girls meet there s/o parents for the First time?

The drdt girls meeting your parents

A/n:writing this made me realize that like half the cast has family issues but I guess that's normal for danganronpa

Teruko tawaki

Even if she tried her best not to show it teruko was actually really nervous to meet with your family

She still blames herself for the death of her own family and was scared that just being near them would hurt them somehow with her luck

You comforted her about it and told her that it wouldn't happen so she finally decided to go ahead and do it

The meeting went actually pretty well, teruko was mostly chill and tried her best to look like a good girlfriend, except for those times when she embarrassed herself because of her bad luck

"Hello i'm teruko tawaki, it's really nice to-"

[Teruko slams her foot and the table and holds it in pain]

"Shit!"

"..................."

".................."

"A-ah I-i mean.........dammit"

Min jeung

She wasn't that nervous to meet your parents but just to make sure to make a good impression she asked for as much information of them as possible

She then used that to talk with your parents as much as possible. Her main fear is that the conversation runs dry, and then there's an embarrassing silence

She also tried to impress them with some random fun facts she just knows, this actually often results in those embarrassing silences cause your parents have no idea how to respond

"So what do you-"

"Did you know that when the first star wars movie released they were still executing people by guillotine in France?"

".........n-no......we.....didn't know that"

Arei nageishi

She didn't really want to do this mostly because she thought your parents wouldn't have liked her no matter what she did and didn't wanna waste time

But you and eden convinced her and told her that she should at least try and that you wouldn't care if they didn't like her

You also "trained" her for the meeting, telling her that she should at least try being nicer which she agreed to just because you said it

The meeting itself went surprisingly well actually, mostly because you had already told your parents how arei can be and how much you love her despite that, arei was pleasantly surprised by that, her family just sucks so the fact that at least yours likes her is nice

"You know y/n is dating a bowling champion right?"

"Oh really? That's nice"

"Of course, I'm the best bowler around, none of the other fucking losers could dream of even competing with me, y/n is actually really lucky to be dating me"

".................."

"..................."

Hu jing

She was genuinely waiting for the moment you'd bring that up and was so excited at the prospect

Hu is just literally the type of girlfriend your parents call wife material (cause she just totally is) so without telling her absolutely nothing she acted perfectly during the entire meeting

She even brought sweets that she made herself and that alone made your parents already love her. She's just so nice and polite and perfect in every thing she says and does that by the end of the meeting your parents ironically love her more than you

She instantly became best friend with your mom and totally asked her for her blessing to marry you because of how traditional she is

"Excuse me Ms l/n, may I ask you for something?"

"Of course, anything"

"I would like to ask for your blessing to marry y/n, I think our life together will be splendid and I wish to spend it with y/n as their wife"

".......y/n if you don't marry her I will personally disown you"

"....M-MOM!?"

J rosales

J really didn't want to do this, mostly because she hates her family and her mom especially so she just thought she was doomed to never have a positive family interaction again

She was also worried they'd recognize her so she went with her fake last name just to be safe even if you told her they probably wouldn't care even if they did

She still dressed up in her usual hoodie because she just hates fancy clothes and stuff like that, at least she took the hood off while talking

The meeting went actually pretty well, and that made j reconsider her opinion, maybe your family could be almost like a second better one for her

"So what kind of movies do you like?"

"Anyone without my mom in it"

".......what?"

"A-ah n-nothing!"

Veronika grebenshchikova

She was very very excited to go, meeting your parents is a very important step in any relationship after all. Meanwhile, you were telling her that no, she can't bring a anatomically correct heart shaped cake to them to show them her love

In fact you told her to try her best to tone down on all of the creepy things she does, but it's Veronika she can never really not be creepy and that's why you love her

She brought them a bouquet of dead roses that she thought would look good in their living room, they didn't have the hearth to tell her anything cause she was smiling at them the entire time

All of her scary comments might have set them off a bit but after seeing how genuinely loving she was to you they understood she was a good person and girlfriend

"Oh that reminds me, may I ask for y/n's exact measurements? I want to make sure I get the right coffin size for when we get buried together"

"..............what?"

Rose lacroix

She treated this kinda like a formal occasion, she wasn't particularly excited to meet your family (especially after what happened to hers) but she's not gonna refuse

She brought your parents a painting of them that she made by seeing a photo you showed her, she acted like it was no big deal while they were instantly ready to hang it up in the house

Rose also impressed them with her memory, she could remember even the tiniest bit of information you told her about them and just casually brought them up in conversation which kinda freaked them out

She tried her best to stay awake during the entire time but couldn't help but does off during a couple of moments, especially when they were telling her stuff about your childhood

"Here, I painted this for you, I hope you like it"

"Oh wow it's great thank you so much"

"Thanks I tried to use your favorite colors but let me know if I'm wrong, i think you liked lavender and your husband lime right?"

".......y-yes how did you know?"

"Oh y/n told me once"

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Jake, Steven) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst. Angst angst angst! Mentions of childhood trauma, child abuse, self-doubt

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long guys, I've been going through... well, a lot lately and it pained me because I wanted to work on so much but I've been so emotionally-burnt out I've been struggling creatively (Yet again falling into the age-old trap of "My stuff is never as good as ___'s" that many of us struggle with)

But I'm hoping, that with this, I can start to feel a bit better!

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 10:

On The Wings Of An Icarus

Jake knew Layla still didn’t fully trust him, based on his propensity for violence. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she downright hated him, and only tolerated him and spoke politely to save face, for Marc and Steven’s sake.

But, god help him if he didn’t go all out after that night; the night he noticed your soul mark. He showed no mercy on those that Khonshu dispensed him after. Layla practically had to knock him out to get him off; and if he didn’t reign in his control when he did, Marc and Steven would have known something was up. That calm, cool, and collected Jake had cracked because of something and he knew they would attempt to either front or co-front to find out what had shaken him so.

He fisted the glass in his gloved hand, reigning himself in just enough to avoid cracking it.

Three crescent moons, all connected. Each one waxing or waning depending on who was in control of their body or simply co-fronting. You said so yourself.

God, who else could that be referencing if not he, Marc, and Steven? He doubted it was just a goddamned coincidence.

It killed him that he had to keep it a secret from the two of them, but he had no choice. It hurt worse knowing that he wouldn’t be able to tell you–probably never.

You were so… so close. And so far. Like a mirage of an oasis in the desert, always on the horizon, tangible enough to see but not close enough to touch, to hold in his hands.

But… even if they couldn't approach you as their soulmate... Jake could at least let Marc and Steven have you as their friend. Maybe that would assuage the tugging he already knew that they felt.

He had to think of an excuse for if–when–they noticed your mark… Steven would most likely notice it first; he had a habit of looking anywhere else other than someone’s face when he conversed with them, picking at his oversized sleeves and keeping his eyes moving while over-informative words poured from his mouth. Marc was… less observant to such things.

But he would definitely notice if he spent more time with you (not as significantly as Steven does, but still), Marc would get comfortable, enough to let his eyes wander, to open himself up to you. After all… you were their soulmate, it was only natural to feel safe enough around the other half of your very existence, to let your guard down. It was a dangerous game Jake was betting on, being so close to you. He wanted to keep you away, to keep you safe.

But… was it so wrong they have this? Even just a friend? All the horrors they'd been subjected to, the pain, the abuse, the loss… Would it still be so bad to have you, even in that tiny capacity?

But at the same time… if Khonshu tried to use you as leverage–assuming he didn't already know about you–he wouldn't be able to contain himself if something happened under Khonshu’s supervision, as lax as it could be at times.

If someone hurt you? Fuck, he would snap.

He would fight and keep fighting until whoever it was was a bloody mass of pulp and bone fragments.

He looked into his glass of bourbon, a smoky honey flavor that tasted like it had been aged close to a decade. A bit pricey, given the pub he was at, but he needed something right now, something strong enough to numb his mounting anxiety.

His hand slid beneath his jacket to touch his shirt, his gloved fingers knotting in the crisp white fabric as he remembered the night when that human trafficker stabbed him, and he subsequently ripped the knife out.

He'd apologized to you, then, without realizing it was you he apologized to, for being so reckless.

But now that he knew... the guilt came back. How could he be so reckless? So foolhardy as to not take note of his surroundings to prevent that?

You could feel each other's pain. That realization made the abuse he and Marc–and even Steven to a degree–suffered with as a child even worse. The pain your tiny, frail body probably felt–the burns, the welts, the patches of ripped out curls…

He remembered, when he first came into existence; when it got too bad, he would front momentarily to take the worst of the injuries Wendy would inflict upon their poor young body. Marc didn't even know what was happening in the beginning, nor did Steven.

But Jake always knew.

It was like his burden, his own personal curse as the protector. He was cursed with the knowledge that he knew things he couldn't tell others, to protect everyone around him.

Marc, Steven, Layla…

And now you, it seemed.

How could he…

“Jake?” Layla asked, her hand gripping his thick forearm in her small, soft hand, her dark brows pinched upwards in concern. “You were… spacing. Looked like you were thinking about killing someone.” She added.

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, hissing between his teeth. He could feel it, Marc–or perhaps Steven–threatening to swim to the surface of their headspace to investigate the turmoil and inner upset Jake was overthinking on.

“Lo siento.” He muttered, looking at her for a moment before tipping the glass and downing the last mouthful of bourbon before continuing. “I was…”

“Thinking about her. I can tell.” She admitted, turning her barstool so she could face him, her lips pursed in a thin line.

This was difficult. With Marc and Steven, Layla always knew an approach. But with Jake, she never bothered to learn one. She didn't trust him–not fully, yet–so she never felt the need. From how she found out about him, how the other two figured out that they weren’t the only two inhabiting the body… He never really gave Layla an “in”, so to speak; to learn more and break past those emotional barriers that crumbled when she spoke to Marc or Steven. Damn him and his apparent emotional stoicism!

But seeing just how tortured she finally realized he felt… yeah, Jake did bad things on behalf of that old codger, Khonshu, but…

He carried so much weight on his own shoulders, withheld so much pain to protect others that he may as well have been Atlas, doomed to carry the world on his back for all eternity, never being able to shirk the weight like the mythological person.

It dawned on her, that night on the rooftop over your shop and flat, just how little she truly knew about Jake Lockley.

She didn't know anything she didn't want to know, even from Marc or Steven's mouth. It was just her way, after her father died and Marc fell into her life; to not ask too many questions so she could sleep just a wink better than the nights before.

Jake was violent, scary, methodical… but was he really? Or did she just paint him that way to justify her distrust over the fact Khonshu still used him as Moon Knight and used him to rope poor Marc and Steven back into the role as his Fist?

He wasn't some scary boogeyman, he was… a guy. A guy who loved his “brothers”, his friends, who protected–and loved–fiercely and with his whole being. A man now struggling with the weight of flinging himself into the very instincts so many throughout their lives craved to feel when they finally found their soulmate, or simply denying the possible bliss of being cradled in your loving arms, spending the rest of your lives together…

“Sí, it's… I'm trying to think of a way to keep Marc and Steven in the dark. Maybe if… if I just let them think of her as a friend...” He sighed.

Layla frowned. Okay that was another reason that reminded her why she didn't fully trust him, yet. The fact he was willing to hide such important things from Marc and Steven to “protect” them.

Yes, it was important to protect them, but some things are just inevitable, bound to be found out.

It's the difference between ripping off a bandage or pulling a child out of a clean room.

Pulling off the bandage, yeah, it'll hurt for a moment but it will pass.

However, if you put a child inside of a sterile bubble, the moment that bubble bursts, their immune system will be compromised and they won't be able to adjust to the changing environment around them…

“Jake… sometimes you just have to rip off the band-aid.” Layla replied. “You won't be able to hide this–hide her–from them forever.”

He wiped at his face, and made a frustrated groan. The buzz of the alcohol did little to ease his concerns. After all, once he took up the mantle tonight, his buzz would evaporate like dew beneath the summer sun. Not that London saw much of that these days.

“I know, Layla. I'm just… trying to buy time.”

“Jake… when it comes to your soulmate…” Layla said, giving him a sympathetic look.

“You don't have enough money in the world to do that. It will happen. Whether you're all ready for it or not.”

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Jake hadn't slept well that night. Marc and Steven needed a break, so they were still in the back of his mind, in the headspace, not really conscious of what Jake had been doing inside the body. They thankfully agreed to let Jake assume control, to give his headmates a much-needed break.

“Just like old times?” Layla had quipped sardonically, and, of course, Jake had to pretend the comment didn't hurt him at all. It did, but… he still didn't want her to feel bad about saying it.

Sure, he's done questionable and sometimes horrible things, but it was all for them. Marc, Steven, Layla, innocent people, and now… you.

Beautiful, sweet, oblivious you.

He'd started coming to your shop more, under the excuse that you had good coffee (which honestly you begged to differ, it was merely stuff you bought in bulk at the market) and the quiet atmosphere was more relaxing than a regular cafe; which even you agreed was rather dead. Many people didn’t stop in for a cuppa when simply buying old sci-fi novels…

Jake had even gone so far as to bring the stacks of books that Steven had been meaning to bring to you for a trade-in credit, just for another excuse to come in to see you.

It was all to keep you safe, to make sure nobody bothered you, to make sure you were doing okay.

He promised himself there was nothing less.

But even so, you were the candle flame to his moth, and he was drawn to you.

Drawn to you, but knowing if they got too close or touched you, they would burn, and there would be no going back once they did. What was that saying about flying too close to the sun?

He just… he couldn't let any of you know that he knew. As painful as it was to admit, he was already falling for you and he couldn’t bear to face it for fear of throwing caution to the wind and losing it all.

Not until today, not until he went to the market down the block, in search of something to cook for dinner. It was pouring outside, despite the forecasters saying to expect sleet. No, no, of course it wouldn't be sleet. It was just freezing cold rain. Rain that felt like tiny frozen icicles hitting his skin in fat droplets.

He shook his jacket, the droplets falling from the leather and onto the large carpet beneath his feet at the entrance. After that, Jake pulled his cap back up and nodded politely to the greeter and proceeded his way inside. He was craving something, but wasn’t sure what. Something with a little kick, something with meat. So, undecided on what in particular he wanted to eat, he settled for wandering the aisles, randomly picking up items here and there, pretending to read the labels until he made up his fractured mind.

“Jake? Jake Lockley?”

His head whipped up so quickly he almost felt his vertebrae snap when he lifted his eyes to meet yours, innocent and twinkling as you appeared so sure of your guess. You were instinctively right, of course, but the inner jokester within him was tempted to fake Marc’s voice to mess with you.

He shoved his hands into his jeans–mostly to conceal how badly they were shaking–and tossed you what he hoped was a charming, convincing smirk, “Ah. Caught me red-handed, Rosa. How’d you guess?”

“Well, aside from the fact you’re wearing your trademarked hat and jacket…” You playfully tapped your nose and winked at him. “...You look like you just caught a whiff of–and stepped in--horse shit.”

Jake couldn’t suppress himself, chuckling and shaking his head, “That’s a… unique way of putting it.”

“I’m full of surprises!” You beamed proudly, “So, what’re you here for? I don’t think I’ve bumped into you here, before!”

“Ah, I’m here to… well, find something to eat. Or well, more accurately, something to cook to eat.” He sighed and tipped his head. “I might just buy a frozen dinner and call it a night.”

The offended gasp his comment elicited from you made butterflies flitter about in his belly. He felt like a teenager talking to the popular girl he had a crush on in school.

“Oh no you will not! So many of those have awful preservatives and just aren’t healthy for you!” You tut, reminding him so much of Steven. He couldn’t hold back his smile as you ranted and spoke about healthy eating habits, honestly reminding him of Steven in this moment.

His attention began to wonder as he took in every bit of your face–every blemish or thing you may consider yourself to be an imperfection, tracing every dip and contour of your cheeks, nose, and the slope of your jaw…

“You know what–” You huffed, the hand that wasn’t holding your basket firmly planted on your hip. “No. Why don’t you come have dinner with me? The thought of you making something like some yucky frozen meatloaf is just… blegh.”

Jake felt his brain record-scratch, finally being pulled out of his admiring stupor. “I–what? Oh, no, no, I don’t think that…” He floundered.

Him! The Jake Lockley, left without a quip to be uttered!

“Nah.” You say, walking past him. “I'm making you dinner. C’mon, I’ll need help grabbing stuff.”

On sheer instinct, he followed you like an obedient puppy. “Look, uh, I…”

“Not takin’ no for an answer, Lockley. Now, c’mon!”

The man was hopeless. All he could do was admire your figure and personality once again. Sweet, gentle–but also fiery and bull-headed when it suited you.

Jake fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Layla’s number, texting;

“Order something out for dinner, La-La… It looks like I have plans.”

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 11: Link

[lovers-tucked-into-a-quiet-cafe]

141 & Rabbit Headcanons [IKYLHT]

Series Masterlist | Prev: Personnel Files | Next: Chapter One

Please Note: This is my attempt at a spoiler-free introduction to the characters and their dynamics. This is meant to be read before the first chapter, and thus must be vague at points. THIS DOES CONTAIN SOME MW3 SPOILERS

-

141 + Rabbit Dynamics:

Soap:

Rabbit's ride or die right here, twin flame type of energy

First person she actually enjoyed the company of at the UK base while on assignment alongside the rest of the Demon Dogs

Subsequently the first to worm his way into her heart- sinks his hooks into her side and refuses to leave (not to worry, you'd have to pry her off of him, anyways)

Runs into her coming out of the mess hall, sees 'Highwater' stitched into her uniform and realizes this was the soldier Sparks had told him about

Oh yeah, that month long prank war with Shane 'Shitbag' Sparks (yes, she'd come up with that one herself) that the rest of the Demon Dogs decided to join in on? He made sure to tell Soap, because why not recruit the demolitions expert in his task of torturing his sister-in-arms?

Soap immediately decides on implementing her rename. 'Oh, you already have a callsign that half the base refers to you by? One that acknowledges your military expertise and the nine grueling years you've dedicated to the service? That's weird, cuz your name is Rabbit now and that's that' type mentality

She knew the reference immediately, hands twitching with the urge to unsheathe her spare knife because there was only one person that'd broadcast the story

Goddammit, Sparks, I will shiv you

"Excuse me? Where'd you hear that from, Sergeant?"

"A good friend never tells. I could always think of calling you somethin' worse?"

"Call me something worse and I'll have you written up for disrespecting a superior officer"

"Understood, Rabbit" said with a fucking grin

Despite being the one to rename her, literally never uses her callsign once he declares them best friends

Calls her Bunny or Bun, which surprisingly did help his efforts in gaining her [platonic] love and affection

Spent damn near every waking moment with her, which unsurprisingly did help his efforts in gaining her [romantic] love and affection

Sparring? Let me wrap your hands

Going out? Here, I'll zip your coat

Smoking? C'mon Bun, tell me what's bothering you, I can help

It was the little, everyday acts of love kindness from Soap that had her hooked on the feeling of being in his presence

So you can imagine how devastating it'd felt for the both of them when the special unit had been called back to the states

Even with promises to call and text and facetime, the feeling of his heart sinking to his stomach made him realize there were feelings he harbored towards Rabbit that went beyond the typical bond between soldiers

But orders are orders, and he'd been sure to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek before ushering her up the ramp and onto the heli waiting to rip her away from him

Not that either admitted it to the other at the time, but they'd both been teased to no end about their 'special friendship' by the rest of their units, cheeks warming yet refusing to deny the accusations

Like true friends, though, they did kept their promise

If it wasn't hours of texting it was calls, only skipping days when on mission but always sure to inform the other of their departure beforehand

It was hard most days. Seeing the other come back from days or even weeks of no-contact with new cuts and bruises

It was especially hard, though, after Verdansk

Soap had beaten himself up pretty hard after the whole ordeal with Makarov- the guilt of not being able to save those people in the airport, the shame of losing his cool in front of his superiors, the regret of not just avenging those people by shooting the man and facing the consequences later- he'd talked through his entire range of emotions with her despite the distance

Then, because the universe always yearned for cruelty, she got the assignment

Covert operation

Ciudad Victoria

Two days, wheels up at 0400

Now her home base had been Pendleton since basic, and if there's one thing the San Diego base requires, it's soldiers willing to cross the border and sweat their asses off for hours on end scouting some target for shit pay and no reward

She'd done it before, six months turned into twelve turned into eighteen until eventually she'd been volunteering to go, years under her belt and quickly moving up the ranks, Mexico now a second home in her mind. Anything to get away from that place

But Victoria? That was a city she'd only seen on mission reports, only heard of by way of interrogation

But orders are orders, and he'd been sure to tell her he'd miss her before ushering her to dump her phone in her locker and get onto the heli waiting to rip her away from him again

Soap didn't get a call for quite a while after that

His first contact, actually, hadn't even been Rabbit

It was Sparks

Locker pried open with permission from Griggs (not that he waited even a second to be granted it), he'd charged her phone and called the one person he thought deserved to know

"MacTavish? It's Sparks. Highwater, she's... she's MIA. Entire task force was found slaughtered. An ambush, I think. We don't- we're not entirely sure yet. Griggs can't get a straight answer. The whole things fucked, we can't- the area's got it's own governing body. They haven't... they've searched but they haven't found a body. We're not calling it until they do. I'm sorry, kid."

Two months

Two months Soap cried until his lungs spasmed

Two months Soap cried until his head ached and eyes burned

Two months Soap cried to his mother about the woman he loved

Two months until he got the call that damn near restarted his heart

"Soap? Soap, we found her. We have her, she's being taken to medical. We found her, kid."

Johnny's not sure he remembers a time he'd cried harder. He'd like to say it was when Sparks had first called him, but even then, he held onto some hope she'd made it out 'like you always do'

That'd been their promise to each other, and he vividly recalls telling Price that as he sobbed over the man's shoulder in relief

She'd been put on medical leave, forced to wave goodbye to her family as they flew off to Urzikstan without her

It was at that point- hearing her cry over the phone about how useless she'd felt being left behind, how she'd failed the only family that had ever truly cared about her- that he realized a trip to the states was in dire need

Entered the U.S. friends, exited the U.S. partners

Johnny's a man that focuses on the positives

He doesn't talk about those two months. Not to his therapist, not to his ma, not to Price

He focuses on the fact that his torment is over, he focuses on the woman laying her head on his shoulder and tapping her boot against his on the shaky helicarrier

Because that's all that matters to him. The little moments between missions where they can focus on something other than saving the world for a moment

It's a type of love, a type of dynamic the man had never experienced before

'Intimate' is the best word to describe it

Will 'accidentally' detonate an old grenade taken into the training grounds to 'see if it still worked', just to see the other's eyes light up in a sort of pyromaniac excitement

Will also take up an entire couch quietly lounging, arms wrapped around each other under a shared blanket because 'it's a low energy type of day'

It's all or nothing- completely feral, unhinged 'I'll request the jailcell across from you' behavior or soft, domestic bliss

No words need be exchanged for that energy to shift- just a subtle glance and soft smile, a type of telepathy easily mastered after four years of being together

And Johnny wouldn't have it any other way

Ghost:

Initially doesn't even want to address her by Rabbit

He couldn't take the callsign seriously, especially after realizing this was the woman Soap had been babbling about in Verdansk

He knew more about her personal life than he did her military career, and he'd read her file back to front twice. Well, what hadn't been redacted, anyways

Decides he'll stick to Gun, as requested, but only when necessary. Better than Rabbit, at least

But after Soap's little confession while her comms are down in Las Almas? Now Gun just won't do. Decides to stick with Darling until he's figured out a better one. Knows she won't mind, anyways

Calls her Lovie a small handful of times, blink and you'll miss it, and it's only in a NSFW context ;) soft!dom Ghost supremacy

Settles on Tapeti once the dust settles and he knows he's wormed his way into her heart the same way Soap had

They're close in a way he can't say about anyone else

Does he love his team? Of course

Would he lay his life down for any one of them the second the opportunity presented itself? Also yes

But there's something about shared trauma that bonds the soul

Neither talk about it much

It's honestly easier to use Soap as the go-between on a lot of things

She's already told him, already bared her soul for him to see in that deserted apartment, and Simon's grateful Johnny omits certain heart wrenching details when he runs his hands over her scarred back, runs his hands over the raised tattoos that cover the remnants of Victoria

He doesn't yearn to know the specifics, most days he's not sure he wants to know at all

He'd made peace with his demons a long time ago, had to in order to survive, but he knew it wouldn't be so easy forgiving what'd been done to her

It wasn't hard to infer, anyway

They have a calendar, a pocket sized one with a little magnet attached that hangs on their fridge

It was Ghost's idea, after one of those days when the shakes were debilitating and she couldn't keep her food down

He'd set the container of soup from the deli across their flat on the counter, pulling Soap away from her curled up side and showing him the dollar store purchase

He didn't explain, just scribbled out a few dates and passed the calendar over

So Johnny took the pen and started scratching out days

He didn't explain all of them, only murmured the easy ones like 'her mother's birthday' or 'her comrades death date' or 'Victoria'

There's a deeper understanding there, between the three of them, and if there's one thing Simon can attest to while stomping out the butt of his cigarette onto Grave's false tombstone, it's his appreciation for the man's betrayal in Las Almas that lead him into the couple's outstretched arms

Gaz:

Best boy, here

The baby of the group, a few years younger than Rabbit who shares a birthyear with Soap

Uses that to his advantage

Calls her Officer Hopps on more than one occasion, not afraid to more commonly shorten it down to just 'Hopps'

Always in a playful loving manner, not that it matters when Rabbit's glare quickly follows

Also thinks it's funny to call her 'Gunnery Hopps' when in the presence of other soldiers, tries to play it off as a genuine tongue slip despite his wide grin proving otherwise

Again, uses his baby privilege to his advantage, whipping out the puppy eyes and small kisses that has Rabbit's glare melting into a soft smile

Typically sticks with Love- partially because he's a true Birmingham boy and the term of endearment comes naturally to him- mainly because it keeps her wound around his finger

Starts a fight by betting Price 20 quid he could cut a chunk out of Soap's mohawk? He's running to hide behind her, basking in her warmth and sticking a tongue out at Johnny over her shoulder

Smug as all hell, knows he's been deemed the favorite and is sure to remind the other men of it constantly

He'll tell them it's 'just because she loves me more, mate' but they all know the real reason

It's his calm, level-headed personality and natural ability to lead that endears him to her so easily

She never questions his judgement because what he lacks in years he makes up for in everything else by tenfold

And he looks up to Rabbit immensely- he may not initially know the finer details of her military experience, just general war stories Sparks and the rest of the Demon Dogs had told him in Urzikstan when she'd been out on medical leave, but he does know what being a 0251 MOS entails, knows he'll never come across a better Gunnery Sergeant even if he retires at 80

Aims to become a GySgt after seeing her serve as their unit's operations chief, working with superior officers on training, operations, and tactical advising

Asks a million questions and- though he'd never admit it- keeps a log of their answers in his notes app. He's just organized like that

She noticed anyways, what with his trusting nature and big heart (he gladly passed over his phone passcode within the first week of them being official), and it was actually that notes app list of all the little throw away tidbits about her role on the team that led her to write his letter of recommendation

That’s just the dynamic they have, they bring out the best in each other in every way, even when they don’t think it’s possible given the circumstances

He's only two years younger, and yet he feels so lacking in experience when they're thrown into red-stained chairs with threadbare bags over their heads

"You been tortured before, Gaz?"

"No."

"That's good. Let's keep it that way. Stay quiet and keep your eyes forward."

He remembers blanching at her nonchalant tone, the way she talked as if she'd done this a hundred times before.

She has, he realizes, and he feels a sort of naive embarrassment wash over him when he really thinks about it

Interrogation and Debrief Specialist, he thought, you don't earn that title by just sitting and reading about it

He didn't have much time to sit and process that thought before the men were reentering the dark room

He's unable to fathom how she'd kept her breathing so calm, refrained from letting out a single yell or grunt or sniffle until the men had slammed the metal door on their exit

It was hard for him, returning to base after what had transpired

It didn't sit right with him- the fact that he'd allowed himself to sit there and let the woman he'd been falling in love with be beaten within an inch of her life

But she'd comforted him, face swollen and leg wrapped, knocking her boot into his with a smile

He'd knocked his boot back into hers, and decided from there on out she'd know exactly how much she meant to him

Price:

The only member of the 141 to actually refer to her by her callsign. Captain's professionalism and all that.

Throws it out the window the second he deems necessary- which is quite often- resorts to Sweetheart

He knows more about her than anyone else, Johnny the only exception, and that isn't something he takes lightly

He'd read the reports. The redacted ones. He knew what happened after Victoria, he'd been the one to okay her transfer, to accept doing a favor for the Demon Dogs after their good work in Urzikstan and promising he'd 'keep an eye on her'

He understands the vulnerability in that fact, and is sure to do everything in his power to prove to her he's someone she can trust, even after she's told him time and time again he's done more than enough to prove his loyalty

Fortunately, years of hearing about each other via Soap and the Demon Dogs proved useful once they'd finally met at the top of that wall guarding Alejandro's base, easily falling into a sort of mutual understanding of each other

It helped that he was a natural patriarch, the glue holding the team together, ensuring they worked as a well oiled machine both on and off base

Soap vouched for Price and that was all the convincing Rabbit needed. So when Price vouched for Ghost and Gaz? It felt instinctual to trust the men wholeheartedly

Scary as it was initially, Price just knew. Simple as that, he knew what the team needed and exactly how to go about it, and she trusted that

He was arguably the most experienced in navigating trauma, and that definitely lent a hand to the comfortability of the team

He’s perfected the art of understanding each of the members of the task force and it’s something Rabbit didn’t realize she yearned for until she had it

He’s become the physical embodiment of her safe space in a way she never thought was possible. She breathes easier when he’s in eyesight, the tension drops from her shoulders when he’s near

Despite being one who only rarely accepted physical affection from anyone other than Soap, Rabbit named Price 'Seat of the Year', and that's meant quite literally

Cuddles are mandatory team bonding. He doesn't make the rules (yes he does)

Arguably the most giving partner on the face of the planet

Is happy to lean back in his chair and cut off the blood supply to his legs if it means Rabbit is soothed by the way his hands run over her arms and scratch at her scalp, perched on his lap and quickly drifting off to sleep as he presses light kisses onto the junction between her neck and shoulder

His brain is constantly alerting his body of his need to protect and provide. It'd still happen even if he'd never approved her transfer, that's just the kind of man he is, but he wouldn't have been nearly as emboldened without her there

Gaz yawns in the midst of completing a mission report? He's already tossing the man over his shoulder and forcing him to rest for once

Soap lets out the quietest sigh of pain when that one muscle in his shoulder starts twinging again? He's already pushing the man to sit and rounding the couch to dig his strong hands into the stubborn muscle

Ghost's stomach lets out singular growl? Guess that stack of paperwork can be finished tomorrow, it's now his personal mission to ensure the man has eaten a nutritious meal that checks off every micro and macro nutrient possibly needed to ensure health and prosperity in that beefy body

Perfectly content to love and love and love for absolutely nothing in return besides seeing his team happy and healthy

Unbeknownst to him, he very quickly charms his way into her heart with his thick thighs caring nature, dilf energy warm smiles, and ofc the boonie hat

-

General Character Headcanons:

Rabbit:

-As mentioned in the Personnel Files, Rabbit is a Gunnery Sergeant and a 0251 MOS [Interrogator/Debrief Specialist]

-Gunnery Sergeant is her rank- serving as her unit's operations chief, working with superior officers on training, operations, and tactical advising

-0251 is her job code [MOS]. 0251 specifically means being an Interrogator/Debriefer in the US Marine Corps. This job involves collecting information/intelligence from human sources by means of interrogation, debriefing, and screening. Typical duties are the screening and interrogation of enemy POWs, line crossers, refugees, and other displaced persons, exploiting foreign language documents, and participating in noncombatant evacuation operations

-A common requirement for this job is being at the very least bilingual, and it's canon here that Rabbit speaks Spanish alongside English. With that said, many apologies to those reading this that speak Spanish because I'm using translation websites (yes I disappoint my Mexican grandparents every day)

-Rabbit is a Demon Dog, but was not in Urzikstan due to medical leave. She has direct permission from the US Marine Corps, SAS, and Price to be stationed in the UK base 'on loan' as a Demon Dog since they are part of the Coalition, led by the CIA's best Station Chief Kate Laswell :D

-Again, as shown in the Personnel Files, Rabbit does not have many character descriptors listed. I'm trying my best to make her as inclusive as I possibly can while still flushing out her character. I don't like the self-insert '[h/c] [e/c]' format, so I just avoid it all together

-Rabbit is an only child

-Also it's not really about Rabbit per say but in my story Griggs is a Captain. He leads the Demon Dogs and therefore holds a higher rank that Rabbit. It makes sense to me in this story that he'd be of similar age and rank as Price

Soap:

-I’ve seen a few people say based on his accent Soap is likely from Glasgow but unfortunately I’ve only been to Edinburgh so we’re using our creative liberty here and saying that's where he's from plz and thank u <3

-Johnny is the baby of the family with 3 older sisters. His poor mother was pregnant for damn near four years straight

-He's close with his entire family, but especially his mother and youngest sister

-Also I'm not killing him in this story. I wrote a good portion of it pre-MW3 and that campaign sucked so I'm ignoring it :)

Ghost:

-Simon is from Manchester. Yeah yeah yeah ik there’s a whole thing ab his accent and yada ya but my first London pub-watch rugby game was Leeds vs Wigan, so we’re sticking with canon here

-Wigan is in Greater Manchester so I like the headcanon that Ghost’s father was a ManUnited football fan so teen!Simon said ‘oh fuck that’ and instead chose to take the 45 minute train to go watch rugby in another city

-I'm basing a lot of his character off of both the comics and game, however there is one thing to note. In the comics, 'Sparks' is one of the soldiers that assists in getting Simon's family killed. This is not the same Sparks I refer to in this story. Shane Sparks is a Demon Dog, and I'm writing in his character for specific plot devices. He'll likely be completely OC since I just grabbed his basic profile off the character wiki.

Gaz:

-Haven’t heard any confirmation on where Gaz is from but my love Elliot Knight is from Birmingham so ding ding ding, we have a winner

-Only child, the absolute pride and joy of his parent's life. He's a total mama's boy and it was largely her good morals and outlook on life that steered him in the direction of wanting to better the world

Price:

-Liverpool. Again, I’m not sure if there’s confirmation as to where Price is from but my love ( yes I can have two >:| ) Barry Sloane is from Livahpewl soooooo

-Semi-sad headcanon for Price here. Idk why but I feel a strong pull to the idea that his parents have passed, despite him only being 36 in my story, putting them somewhere in their 60's

-On a happier note, I also like the idea that John is an older brother, so we're going with that

-

<3