#during the time i am scheduled to work i will be there working to the best of my ability. i'm dependable & genuinely wanna be doing this

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

too obsessed with this series to stop (i also think it's so hilarious this started as a oneshot request 😭) ur brain just couldn't stop ⬇️

It was a burden you bore silently, the weight of protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

GIGI WROTE HER FOR ME

There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream. You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

god i love ur writing i swear this fic gets better with a new update

“They chew up people like you.” “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

oooo reader 1: rafe 0 she ate him up

"Change of plans."Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing ominously in the small space. 

why was this so clever (also rafe's obsession w locking people in rooms 😭)

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him. Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before dashing out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

i honestly would've sat in my room n draw or smth

Were you getting mugged?

with no money 😭

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

hes so kinky (do it)

“Show me.”“Uh?”He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

i just realized why ur writing is so magnetic; it's because u write almost like a screenplay, like i can visually see all of ur scenes played out on a show or a movie or something; especially your dialogues like it belongs in hollywood

“Atta girl.”

pls sir, just one chance 🛐

“They’re about you.”"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."Your brows pulled together, “What is?”He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

oh my GODDDD

These were dangerous waters. If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

im giggling so hard rn

“Tell me stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

he's so whiny i love him

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

i'm so quiet during this smut scene bc im enjoying it too much

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

he's so hot ohmyfuckinggod

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

back to our regular scheduled program: emotions

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."“But it’s wrong.”“I know, pretty.”

they r so enemies to lovers u did this so well

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”“Promise?”He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.“Promise.”

i love them so much i could cry

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

FINAL THOUGHTS | god this smut scene was TOO good i gotta say ur best work to DATE 🤭 okay, okay, but onto the real business. i think what i love about this part (i think this has to be my favorite part by far) is that, like i said, ur writing plays out like a movie. the way you describe things with such beautiful prose and the way their dialogues bounce off each other. i always compliment your dialogues because it's so true, i am in absolute love with the way it feels so rich and organic and unpredictable (not in a bad way). like there's a conventional storytelling to certain scenes/dialogues but you always manage to surpass expectations and make it innovative and engaging! i fucking love how you build the intimacy through rafe and reader through touch and little acts where you have to read between the lines to understand. and when i get them? 🫠 reader is so independent and stands on her own shit which i love and it reminds me a little too much like me (who said that) but overall, for this specific part, i was obsessed with their banter during the gun scene, and during the smut (of course) but just truly, the way you WRITE it's so so incredible. i'm trying to find better words to explain myself. i love how rafe was yearning for her so badly during the smut, but he backed off bc she said so, and kept asking for clarity and she gave it. it gave me butterflies fr (u saw how quiet i was during that whole scene i barely annotated) and i love the way he kept praising her (blushing fr 🥰) because ur dirty talk is TOP TIER!!! and lastly lastly, the way their fears is embedded in things changing and how they have to confront this new reality of them falling for each other 💘

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - three

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; smut!; rafe is a red flag; guns; mentions of human trafficking; 80% of it is smut you've been warned;

word count: 7.9k...

part i; part ii; part iv

Growing up, you had to develop a thick skin. With two deadbeat parents, it wasn't a choice—it was a necessity. Unlike JJ, you never blamed your mother for leaving. She was a victim too, and despite your nightly wishes and prayers that she had taken you with her, you found solace in knowing that at least one of you had escaped the torment of the Maybank household.

You learned early on to rely only on yourself. While you had your younger brother, you never placed that burden on his shoulders. As the older sister, it was your responsibility to take the blame for everything and to shield him from Luke's drunken or drug-fueled rages. You never resented JJ for it, you couldn’t—neither of you asked to be born into this situation.

You tried to take each day slowly, avoiding the house and staying at John B's as much as possible. It was easier said than done; it was hard not to feel like a burden to your friends, especially since you were the one who had to be the adult in the group. Kie, Pope, John B…They weren’t supposed to take care of you. And yet, they did. They took you in, shared their homes, and gave you the semblance of family you craved but never had. It was a delicate balance, living with a foot in both worlds: the chaotic storm of the Maybank household and the calm haven of your friends' places.

At John B's, despite its share of brokenness, it provided a refuge where you could breathe without the constant fear of violence. You often found yourself on the porch, watching the sunset over the marsh, your mind wandering to dreams of freedom. Those moments were precious, tiny pockets of peace in a turbulent life. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from the chaos, it was always there, lurking in the background.

Luke Maybank’s shadow was long and dark, and it followed you everywhere. Each time your phone buzzed with a message from JJ, your heart would race, fearing the worst. It was a burden you bore silently, the weight of protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

You eased into being the provider, to think, to act, to protect. It became second nature, an ingrained part of your identity forged from necessity. While others your age worried about trivial matters, you were strategizing the best ways to keep your brother safe, figuring out how to stretch what little money you had, and ensuring that there was always something for JJ to eat, even if it meant you went without. 

You learned how to calm Luke down when he was on the brink of a violent outburst, and how to read the signs of an impending storm in his eyes. You figured out which neighbors might turn a blind eye to your requests for help, and which ones might call social services if they saw too much. There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream. You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

So, when Rafe told you—no, demanded—that you stayed in the deadbeat motel room while he met up with his contacts, you lost it. 

He'd gotten the text earlier in the morning and decided he was smart enough to lure you out of this. Except he wasn't.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going.”

You didn’t take it lightly to people making choices for you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in indignant shock, "You think you can just order me around like I'm some puppet? I'm not staying here while you go off and do God knows what.”

Rafe's eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, and for a moment, he looked like he might’ve backed down. But then his expression hardened, the arrogance, and entitlement you’d grown to familiarize yourself with flaring up again.

"It's for your own good," he said, his tone condescending. "You don't understand the kind of people I'm dealing with. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I don’t know what danger is? Look around, Cameron.”

Rafe opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. You’d done a lot of that recently.

"It’s my life on the line too,” you said, your voice low and steady. "And I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come back like some obedient little bitch.”

His face practically matched the color of the deep red curtains, “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Maybank.”

"No, you are," you fired back. "I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He took a step away from you, fingers pointed at his temples, “What part of fucking dangerous do you not get?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

The defiance in your fixed look mirrored his own stubbornness. Rafe’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly. His gaze bore into yours, and you’d be damned if you were the first one to look away.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “But I’m not staying behind and you’re not going alone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand along his grown-out hair. 

“They chew up people like you.”

 “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

He knew that. For a moment it looked like he might’ve argued. And then, he saw the determination in you, that unyielding resolve that drove him up the fucking walls and he understood that he wasn’t going to win the fight. Unless he played dirty. 

“You’re too stubborn, y’know that, right?”

You chose to ignore him, grabbing the simple sweater he’d gotten for you the day before at a local market, “So, when do we leave?”

He almost sprinted to the door, “Now.”

You moved to follow him as he stepped outside into the hallway, but before you could follow, he grabbed your arm.

"Wait."

You almost pulled away, frustration boiling over.

"What now?"

His grip tightened, "This might hurt.”

"What?" You tried to twist free, glaring at him.

"Change of plans."

Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing ominously in the small space. 

"Rafe! You piece of shit!” You pounded on the door, fury and panic mixing in your chest. "Let me out! You can't do this!"

His voice was muffled but firm from the other side. "Stay here.”

"You motherfucker!" You screamed, kicking the door. But there's no response from the other side. The only sound was the echo of your own frantic breathing. He was gone, the stupid bastard.

You collapsed against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Rafe just left you there, locked like some helpless child. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

You were a Maybank, damn it, and Maybanks didn’t back down from a fight, even when their choices were taken from them.

In any other situation, you would’ve jumped out the window. You’d done it enough times back home, but this was different. Your room’s floor was too high and even though you could get away with just a few scrapes or a broken finger, you couldn’t risk putting yourself in such a vulnerable state. You needed your body intact in case danger was nearby. If you had to run for your life, you needed both legs functioning. 

You glanced around the room, eyes landing on the bed, its frame sturdy and dependable.

That’s it! You thought to yourself as you rushed over and began to strip the sheets from the mattress, working quickly as you tied them together, creating a makeshift rope.

And they said pogues weren’t fucking smart.

It wasn’t your best work, but it was the best you could have under the circumstances. Once you had fashioned the rope, you secured one end to the bed frame, testing it to ensure it could hold your weight. Satisfied that it was sturdy enough, you tossed the other end out the window, watching as it unfurled down the side of the building. 

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you gripped the makeshift rope tightly and began to lower yourself out the window. It wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew better than to rush. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched your way down the side of the building, the ground looming ever closer with each passing moment. 

Finally, your feet touched solid ground, and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You tried to remember bits and pieces of information Rafe had laid out the night before, about the meeting, something about a dingy marine bar, a bartender named Miguel. 

You rushed back inside the motel, ignoring the puzzled look from the front desk guy as you practically demanded information about the bar. He hesitated clearly taken aback by your urgency, the way you blurted out the words, but you didn’t have time for explanations.

"Just tell me where it is," you pleaded, your voice urgent, “It’s important.”

After a moment of hesitation, he relented, quickly scribbling down an address on a piece of paper and thrusting it into your hand.

"It's not far from here," his tone was wary, "But be careful. That place is no good for a lady on her own.”

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him. Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before dashing out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

You nearly raced through the streets, the address clutched tightly in your hand, a feeling of unease gnawing at the pit of your stomach. And then, before you could process what the hell was going on, a hand enveloped your upper arm, fingers digging dip in your flesh before you could make a turn, dragging you to the dark alley you’d avoided.

The situation felt all too familiar. Your heart leaped into your throat, adrenaline surging in and out of your veins. Instinctively, you struggled against the unknown grip, kicking and clawing in a desperate attempt to break free. Were you getting mugged?

"Let go of me!" you shout, your voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley, “I got nothing on me, let me go you stupid fuck!”

With a surge of adrenaline, you mustered all your strength and delivered a sharp elbow to your captor's stomach, causing them to grunt in pain and loosen their hold for a brief moment. You wrenched yourself free, stumbling backward as you scrambled to put some distance between you and your attacker. You were about to land the best punch of your life as you spun around to face them, but as you finally got a good look at him, fear turned into anger. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Me?” Rafe barked, all up in your personal space, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You jumped out a fucking window?!”

He knew you wouldn’t back down so easily. So he waited around the corner, hoping you were smart enough to keep still even though he knew you would never.

You blinked, the shock of seeing him in front of you momentarily overriding your anger. "You... You locked me in there!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't listen!" he shot back, his frustration evident in his tone, “Fuck—Jesus fucking Christ.” He was shaking his head wildly, his hands balled into fists as he cursed away like a mantra. 

"I told you; I'm not staying behind while you go off risking your life!" You nearly spit but managed to tone down just enough.

"And I told you, it's too dangerous for you!" Rafe's voice rose with each word, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His pacing intensified, his agitation palpable in the confined space of the alley. “What the hell were you thinking? What were you gonna do? Walk in and what, huh? You don't even have a gun on you!"

“So? Give me yours!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Give you, my gun?! Did you hit your fucking head against the concrete?

“I’ll hit your head against the concrete if I have to.”

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

You ignored him, “You’d rather I go in there unarmed?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can do it.”

“Clearly. Look at you,” Rafe’s voice was sharp, his frustration evident. “You think I wanted to leave you behind? You think I liked putting you in that room?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You think I was just gonna sit around waiting for you?”

Rafe sighed, palms pressing into his eyes “I’m trying to protect you, God fucking damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Save it,” You hissed out, pressing a hand to your chest as though to keep everything in. “How am I supposed to trust you when you pull this—this shit!”

Rafe reached into the waistband of his trousers, his movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his gun, lifting his shirt in the process. He took your hand and dropped it into your palm, his touch firm.

“Show me.”

“Uh?”

He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

The sudden shifts in his attitude always left you speechless. You hesitated, staring at the weapon in your hand. You had never held a gun before, let alone fired one. But the authority in Rafe’s eyes spurred you to action. With trembling fingers, you checked the safety and made sure the gun was loaded, trying to mimic what you had seen in movies.

“Alright,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Now, point it at me.”

You only gaped in disbelief. “What?!”

“I said point it at me,” he repeated, his tone firm, “C’mon.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the gun. This was crazy. With shaky hands, you raised the gun, aiming it at Rafe’s chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the weapon feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Good,” Rafe said, nodding in approval. “Now, pull the trigger.”

“What the hell?! Rafe?!”

“Trust me, Maybank, just once.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Pull the trigger? He wasn’t fucking serious, was he? You couldn’t actually shoot him, could you?

But Rafe’s expression remained steady, unwavering. Maybe months ago you would’ve done it without a second guess, now? “I’m not pulling the trigger.”

“Just do it. You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger, half expecting the gun to recoil in your hand. But nothing happened. You had forgotten to chamber a round. He knew that already.

Rafe’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, as if the entire situation was normal, “You forgot to chamber a round.”

You watched him carefully, his bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss him. You lowered the gun, your hands shaking with adrenaline. You had just fired a weapon for the first time in your life. He reached out and gently took the gun from your hand, expertly chambering a round before handing it back to you. 

“Try again.”

This time, when you aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, you felt the recoil jolt along your body as the bullet fired. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley, causing your heart to race even faster.

“Atta girl.”

“I’m still pissed, Cameron.”

“I know,” Rafe conceded, his voice softening slightly as he reached up to brush your hair from your eye, fingers grazing the side of your neck.  “I panicked, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. He’d done so much for you over the past weeks, it shook you to the core. The countless times he had gone above and beyond, selflessly putting your needs before his own. So maybe, just maybe…you could let it go. 

“Okay.”

"Let's go.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone brisk as he holstered the gun. "We’re late.”

⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, the weight of what just transpired settling heavily on your shoulders, as you and Rafe sat in silence, the events of the meeting replaying in your mind like a broken record. You’d never met such a group of people before. And you didn’t want to, ever again.

"Human traffickers," you muttered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I can't believe we just met with human traffickers."

Rafe nodded solemnly; his expression unreadable. "Yeah.”

"I don't trust them. What if... What if they decide to snatch us up and... Oh my god, what if this is all just a ploy..."

“Hey, look at me,” he said, voice weirdly soft, “We’re in this together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You wanted to believe him.

Your brow furrowed, your mind racing with questions. “How do you even know these people?”

He hesitated, “Barry. It’s... a long story. But right now, what’s important is that we got a way out, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, realizing that asking him for more information wouldn’t get you anywhere. There were more important matters at hand. 

You didn’t know what was worse, running from Ward Cameron, finding yourself at the mercy of human traffickers, or potentially developing feelings for someone who’d ruined so many lives. 

God, if your brother saw you now…you’d be the greatest disappointment of his life. The mere idea consumed you entirely. The things you’d done.

The way you’d let Rafe into your bloodstream. You hated yourself for it. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp, and you hated it.

What would you even tell him? You didn’t even know if had made it, but something told you that he did. He always did. And that meant that sooner or later you’d see him, and you’d have to watch him gradually despise you. 

And then there was Rafe. The very thought of him made you want to stop breathing altogether. How could you even begin to reconcile the feelings you harbored for someone who had brought so much pain and destruction into your life? It felt like a betrayal to even consider it.

“You good, Maybank?”

You dragged your gaze away from the swirling fan on the ceiling to meet Rafe's concerned stare. He was studying you intently. You shifted on the bed, turning to face him fully. 

"I don’t know,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, “You?”

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch always surprised you, how surprisingly light it felt, a stark contrast to the chaos that seemed to constantly surround him.

“I don’t know.”

He had every reason to abandon you, to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but he hadn’t. You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. It was hard to believe that someone like him could be capable of such tenderness, such vulnerability. But there he was, lying beside you, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’re about you.”

"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. 

Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."

Your brows pulled together, “What is?”

He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

You almost stopped breathing, "What about them?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, “They used to be just about my mom. Then dad. Now, it’s—uh, it’s just you. Ever since that night, it’s just you. Dying, because of—yeah.”

Oh. 

You hadn’t realized the extent of the impact that night had on him, on both of you. It was a lot to process, the realization that you had become a part of his nightmares, a constant haunting presence in his thoughts. Rafe’s fingers brushed over the scar on your arm, and a rush of memories flooded your mind. The gunshots, the crippling fear you felt when they got to you, how Rafe reacted, how he touched you. 

“You should’ve told me before.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flinched instinctively at his touch, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body. But as it lingered, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, like a balm soothing an old wound. For a moment, you let yourself lean into his touch, allowing the warmth of his hand to chase away the ghosts that haunted you.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours; it was warm against your skin. 

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not anymore."

His fingers continued their path up, eventually reaching your cheek as he cupped it tenderly, carefully, as if he’d break you if he rushed it. 

You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. And then, almost hesitantly, you felt him lean in, his mouth brushing against yours in a delicate caress. You hardly had to move to kiss him, only tilting your chin up. It was tender, different from the ones you had before, just so quiet that it made you want to burst into tears. 

Once again, you felt a rush of conflicting emotions coursing between you. Guilt, fear, desire, all intertwined in a tumultuous dance within your heart.

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing hunger that mirrored the longing you felt deep within your soul. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid to let you slip away. And you melted into his embrace, your bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers lurking in the shadows, not the weight of your past sins, not the uncertain future that lay ahead. All that existed was the intoxicating feeling between you and Rafe. 

But as the kiss deepened, a voice of reason scolded you in the back of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You pulled away, breathless and dizzy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“We shouldn’t…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the beating of your heart.

Rafe only stared, before he nodded, understanding dawning in him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch lingering like a promise of things left unsaid.

“I know,” he sighed, “Just get some rest.”

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction. With a heavy grunt, you lifted yourself off the bed, making your way to the bathroom to change into some booty shorts and a simple tee. When you emerged from the bathroom, Rafe was already settled on the bed, only in his boxers, his attention fixed on some point in the distance. You hesitated for a moment before joining him, the distance and closeness between you feeling suffocating. 

You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat like a lump of lead. Instead, you settled for a nod, and a quiet “Goodnight.” 

You slipped under the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a false sense of security. 

“Night, pretty Maybank.”

You shut your eyelids, willing your racing mind to quiet down. But no matter how hard you tried, sleep eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound of passing cars sent a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened to the point of paranoia. You shifted restlessly in bed, the new sheets tangling around your legs like shackles, trapping you in a prison of your own making. 

You heard Rafe's voice beside you, breaking the silence of the room, “Can’t sleep if you keep moving.”

“Sorry.”

Rafe reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Rafe's hand tightened around yours, "I know, Maybank," he spoke in a ushed tone, "But you're safe here. Try to relax, okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, already feeling the upcoming headache, “I don’t know how to.”

It was quiet again for a minute and you feared you’d bored the man to sleep with your insecurities, but then he spoke again, “Turn around.”

You opened your eyes, even though you could barely see him, face twisting into confusion.

“What?”

Rafe's thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm, “Turn round f’me, kay?”

With a soft sigh, you shifted, turning onto your side to face away from him.

Rafe moved closer, his body pulling against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against his chest. His warmth enveloped you like a shield as he pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin. 

“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “Better?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

These were dangerous waters. If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

Your pulse quickened, and your skin tingled. An almost overwhelming feeling of arousal took over you, and with whatever courage you had left from the day, you shifted again, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. His warmth seeped into your skin, melting away the tension that had coiled tight in your muscles during the day, you could feel every ridge and turn of his body.

Your touch drew a low, guttural groan from Rafe, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed closer, his arousal unmistakable against your back. His teeth grazed your shoulder, followed by the flick of his tongue, and you released a breathy sigh as he lowered his head to bite the area.

His arm tightened around you as you traced the contours of his fingers, mapping out the familiar territory with ease and want. His heartbeat echoed against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your own heart.

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core, “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse with purpose, “��M right here.”

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you shifted your hips, grinding back against him, seeking the friction that would ease the ache between your legs and your head. Rafe's response was immediate, his hands roaming over your body with a fervor that left you dizzy. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin with feather-light touches that sent shivers down your spine. You twisted your fingers into his long hair, tugging lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from him.

“Tell me stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

You ran you finger over his leg, where his boxers had risen, the warm skin driving you insane. If you lifted your fingers just a little higher, you’d be able to feel all of him.

You had to bite back a squeal when his thumb brushed over your covered nipple, “I can’t.”

You felt the tension in his muscles as he paused for a moment, his grip on you tightening. An unrestrained, almost desperate plea escaping his mouth, "Are you sure?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling over you. The uncertainty, the fear, and the desire all came down together in a chaotic swirl. This was so fucking wrong. But underneath it all, you knew what you wanted. You turned your head slightly, your lips grazing his jawline as you muttered a "Yes."

You gasped when Rafe raised his thigh, placing it between your own, as he used his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth, grinding you down against his skin. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever felt so out of control, so desperate for someone’s touch. The thin barrier of your shorts and panties felt like an unbearable hindrance, a small but significant obstruction to the shattering desire coursing through your veins.

One of his hands slipped under the waistband of your panties, the other splaying across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. His fingers found you slick and ready, a whimper vibrating across his chest at the discovery.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers starting a slow, torturous rhythm against your clit. You bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you turned slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss. You felt his tongue press against yours and you nearly came on the spot. He slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into him, “I can’t stop touching you.”

You struggled to form words as breathy moans escaped your mouth, “Please don’t,” you rasped, your thoughts blurring as he dipped the tips of his fingers inside you, gathering your wetness. When you finally found your voice, it was a mere screech, “Rafe...”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back, finally pushing two fingers inside you, at an agonizing pace, “I’ve got you.”

Your jaw went slack as he curled his thick fingers, a gasp escaping when he found that spot that made you see stars. Your nails involuntarily dug into his skin. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, pulling another moan from you. With his other hand still on your hip, he pushed you back, guiding you to grind against his fingers.

The rhythm he set was maddening, each movement driving you closer to the edge. Rafe's breath was hot against your neck, his voice a growl as he removed his fingers, making you whine in protest.

He glided one between your folds, the wetness easing up the process, “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words sending a thrill down your spine. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Ra—You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasped as his arm left your waist, sliding underneath your ribcage and resting on your chest, kneading your breast through the fabric of your shirt, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the point,” he purred into your ear, two fingers sliding inside you again, so suddenly you threw your head back again, thighs clenching together tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out.

At this point, you were lightheaded, fucking yourself back onto him, grinding down as you chased your orgasm. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Rafe...”

His fingers quickened their pace, each thrust sending oceans of pleasure down your body. “Not stopping,” he promised, his voice a rough whisper. “Want to feel you cum around my fingers.”

His words sent you spiraling, the buzz building to an unbearable peak. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of your approaching climax. Rafe's touch was relentless, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“Rafe—” you cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating from your core. Your body convulsed, and you clung to him, nails digging into his arm as you rode out the ecstasy.

Rafe held you without a break, his fingers never slowing, drawing out every last tremor of your release. When you finally came down, breathless and spent, he gently withdrew his fingers, not giving you a break to breathe as he shuffled behind you, pulling his boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock, doing the same to you as he slid his length between your folds.

The sensation was…everything, his heaviness pressing against your sensitive, slick entrance, the heat of him making you shiver. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as Rafe's hand gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts. The anticipation coiled inside you again, your body already aching for him, “’M sensitive.”

“Shhhh,” he purred, his voice husky and all rough against your ear. “Just relax, pretty.”

He rocked his hips slowly, the head of his fat cock teasing your entrance, not pushing in but sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness over his length. Holy fuck, you’d gone to heaven. The friction was maddening, each movement sending volumes of satisfaction through you.

Rafe's breath hitched, his grip on your hip tightening as he struggled for control. “You feel so good,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “So perfect.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, biting your lip when his tip bumped against your clit, “I need you to—Shit, just fuck me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he angled his hips and began to push inside you, inch by tantalizing inch. The stretch was exquisite, slowly filling you in a way that left you gasping, your body accommodating him with a shuddering breath.

“Jesus,” Rafe hissed, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as his cock twitched inside you. “So tight.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, the thrill and the sensation of being filled to the hilt almost too much to bear. You could feel every part of him, the way he throbbed inside you, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. You felt his breathing against your skin, coming out in uneven and ragged breaths.

He started a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in. His other hand found your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh through your shirt, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You couldn’t hold back the mewls that escaped your lips, each movement driving you higher, the tension building again rapidly. Rafe’s breath was ragged against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. He gently bit your earlobe, withdrawing his hips until only the tip of him remained inside you, before slowly pushing back in with deliberate, languid movements. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair once again.

“Rafe... harder, please,” you begged, shame thrown out the window, “I need it harder.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he complied, his hips snapping against you with more force, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hand slid down from your chest to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts, driving you closer to the edge.

You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

You curved your back again, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your body craving the release that was so close. His hand on your clit moved in time with his hips, each touch sending you spiraling higher.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper.

“Then let go,” Rafe growled, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

You groaned, “I want to see you when I do.”

Before he could answer, you pulled away from him, making him groan in response, but you shut him up as you turned to face him, dragging your shorts and panties out of the way, not looking where you threw them as you quickly lifted your body and settled over his, hands pressed to his naked chest as you rubbed yourself against him. 

Rafe's hands gripped your hips firmly as you positioned yourself above him, “You trying to kill me, pretty Maybank?”

You smirked, leaning down to press a quick peck against his lips, “Yeah.”

Without any warning, you lowered yourself onto him, both gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tip touching your cervix. Your movements were slow at first, savoring all of him, every sensation that rippled from end to end of your body. But soon, the slow burn of desire ignited into a raging inferno, and you found yourself moving faster, chasing that peak of pleasure one more time.

“Get this fucking thing off,” He growled, pulling at your shirt. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t so desperate to feel him.

You sat up, quickly tugging the shirt over your head and tossing it aside. Rafe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in your bare chest, his hands immediately finding your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp and arch into his touch. You started to move again, lifting yourself up before sinking back down onto him, each movement sending waves of desire through both of you.

A filthy kiss followed, all spit and tongues tangling messily as if trying to devour each other whole. The taste of him filled your mouth, a heady mixture of the cigarettes and toothpaste, his moans mingling with yours. The kiss was a brutal assault, his teeth nipping at your lips, drawing blood, which only seemed to fuel the frenzied rhythm of your body. Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, and encouraging you to take him deeper, pounding into you, abs flexing.

You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his sturdy chest, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, your cries, and the rhythmic, filthy, slap of skin against skin.

“Fuck, this pussy can’t be real,” Rafe groaned, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Ride me harder, baby. Wanna watch you.”

You increased your pace, the friction and fullness driving you closer to the edge with each thrust. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, holding you steady as you moved, his touch grounding you even as you felt like you were about to come apart at the seams. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tight, precise circles that had you crying out his name.

“Oh god, Rafe, I’m so close,” you panted, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“Cum for me, pretty,” he urged his voice rough and filled with need. “I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

That was all it took. With a loud moan, you came, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his chest as the phases of your pleasure crashed over you. Rafe watched you, his expression one of pure awe and desire, his hands never leaving your body, grounding you through your orgasm. As your climax subsided, your breathing ragged and your limbs trembling, he gently kissed your temple, his lips soft and tender. He murmured soothing words, his voice a sexy whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong against your own racing pulse, a reminder of the connection between you. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, calming you, bringing you back to earth. 

But as the waves subsided, you became acutely aware of Rafe's cock still hard and throbbing inside you. His breath was ragged, his eyes void of any color, and you knew he was on the brink. You lifted yourself slightly, feeling him slip almost out of you before you sank back down, taking him deep again, despite the way your thighs burned, the way your hole ached.

"Rafe," you called, "I want to feel you cum inside me."

His grip on you tightened, his eyes briefly closing as a guttural moan escaped his lips. He released you for a moment, only to bring his hand down sharply, delivering a stinging smack to your ass, "Watch your fucking mouth.”

The sudden impact made you gasp, the pain amplifying your desire.

Rafe's eyes snapped open, dark and intense as he watched your reaction. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, "Look at you."

You could only nod, breathless and aching for more. His hands returned to your hips, guiding your movements with a renewed urgency. The sting from the slap lingered, a delicious reminder of his dominance, the only place you'd let him take the lead.

You started to move again, your pace slow and deliberate, your movements designed to drive him wild. Each time you sank onto him, you could feel him throbbing, his control slipping with every passing second. His hands roamed over your body, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to hold on.

"Please, baby," you whined, "I need to feel you cum."

The pet name did it. His response was immediate. With a growl, he shifted, flipping you onto your back and pinning you beneath him.

The sudden change made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he drove into you with a powerful thrust. His pace was relentless, his movements fueled by a desperate need to reach his release. His face was a mask of intense concentration, his jaw clenched as he pounded into you. The sounds of your “oh’s” mixed with his grunts, creating a symphony of raw passion. You could feel the tension coiling inside him, the way his body strained against yours, every muscle taut with anticipation.

"Gonna fill you up,” he grounded out, his voice strained, "So fucking close."

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. "Cum for me, baby," you urged, your desire reigniting at the thought of him finding his release, “Need you so bad.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a feral intensity. "You want my cum?" he growled, thrusting harder, making you cry out in pleasure. "Beg for it."

"Please, Rafe," you gasped, feeling the pressure building inside you, "Fill me up. I need it. I need you."

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe's body stiffened, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he let out a hoarse cry. You felt the hot rush of his release, the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself inside you. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel him pulsing, the warmth flooding you as he let out a primal growl, his grip on you almost bruising. And right there, another orgasm ripped through you, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, feeling the ridges of the muscles you had just marked with your nails. your own body still buzzing with the aftermath of your pleasure. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, a look of pure adoration in his gaze that rendered you speechless. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, his touch kind and reverent.

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes as Rafe's lips touched yours again, the faint tender kiss a stark contrast to the man you used to know. You tried to hold back, to keep the overwhelming tide at bay, but the dam broke, and a sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, concern etched across his pretty features. "Hey," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, "No, it’s not that," your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

Rafe's expression softened, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Shh, it's okay," he soothed his voice a comforting balm to your frayed nerves. "Let it out, baby. I’m right here."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his skin. The warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the gentle strength of his hold were the only thing keeping you together at this point and if you didn’t feel so much, you’d feel pathetic for relying so much on someone else. He held you tightly, his hand stroking your hair as you cried, releasing the pent-up fear and anxiety.

"We—I, I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted through your tears, your voice muffled against his chest. "I’m really, really scared.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering in a gesture of reassurance. "I know, Maybank," he whispered, his voice steady and unwavering. "I’m scared too.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are?" you asked, almost in disbelief.

He nodded, his attention never wavering from features.

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."

“But it’s wrong.”

“I know, pretty.”

He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity. Rolling onto his side, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. You nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry for jumping out the window,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin, “You just...make me so angry.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair in soothing strokes. "I shouldn’t have locked you in.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the last of your tears dry against his skin. The comfort of his embrace, his steady presence, was grounding you. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but his reassurance gave you strength. After a while, Rafe shifted slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. 

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.

“Promise.”

[gothcsz]

part six of the neighbors series. thank you to the anon who sent this angsty prompt for getting the gears turning in my head, hehe. these two are something else, i tell ya. the miscommunication is just so... i am pushing them together forcing them to kiss at this point lol hope you guys like it 🖤 and feel free to send me more things for this little au!

javier peña x f!reader. ~2k word count. nothing too extreme to tag, it's straight up just angst and yearning.

Being with Mateo is nice, sweet even. He calls when he says he will, makes you laugh, and remembers how you take your coffee. And you really do try with him. You take interest in his hobbies, hold his hand when you’re walking down the street, and even let him take you to bed.

The sex is fine, nothing spectacular and just barely above average. Being with him is normal and safe.

But every now and then, your mind drifts to what it would be like if it was Javier in his place. You shake those thoughts off as fast as they come. If you’re going to move on, it has to be for real, not half-heartedly.

It’s a little easier to bury those feelings now that Javier is caught up in something—or someone—of his own. 

She’s over at his place constantly, her laugh sometimes drifting through the walls late at night. It feels like they’re always whispering to each other, talking until all hours, and you hate how that little spark of jealousy sits in your chest.

You catch yourself wondering what her name is, how they met, if she gets that look from him—the one that he used to give you when he’d make you laugh. 

You pass Javier in the hallway sometimes, and when he offers a half-smile and rushed, “Hey,” you return it with something tight and brief, barely meeting his gaze.

But he’s always in his own world these days, buried in work, and if he notices you distancing yourself, he doesn’t show it. Or maybe he’s too distracted to care. Either way, it reinforces the choice you’ve made to keep things this way. 

Every time you pass his closed door, you tell yourself you’re doing the right thing. Him being absent is the push you need to keep stepping back, to keep looking at apartments a few neighborhoods over, just in case.

One day, Mateo notices you’re distracted during dinner, poking at your food more than eating it. 

“Querida,” he says, nudging your hand, “you alright?”

“Yeah.” You force a smile. “Just thinking about work.” You try to shake off the odd feelings you can’t seem to put to rest—the unease of Javier wrapped up in someone else and it working for him but not for you, leaving you more restless than before.

He’s become a background hum of missed chances and bad timing.

Mateo catches the shift in your expression and rests his hand on yours. “If it’s about your place, I don’t mind helping you look around. Maybe even do a little apartment tour spree together this weekend?”

His warmth stirs something in you, a pang of guilt for not giving him the part of you that’s still tucked away. “Yeah, that sounds nice. I’d like that.” 

Javier’s schedule continues to keep him out of the complex and you can’t remember the last time you saw him at the embassy.

Granted, you work in different departments but still, there was enough overlap for you to at least catch glimpses of him throughout the day. 

There’s a wall between you two—one he doesn’t even realize is there.

One evening, as you’re walking up to your door, you hear his low voice in the hallway, murmuring something to that beautiful brunette that you feel so strongly against because of your own insecurities. 

It strikes a nerve, seeing her leaned up against his door like that with Javier crowding her, his fingers tucking a strand of her curly hair behind her ear.

They don’t even notice you and that fucking stings, then you remind yourself that you’re being ridiculous and unlock your door quickly, barely giving him a second glance when he finally turns his head to acknowledge you. You just shut your door.

Later, as you sit by your window with a glass of wine, a part of you wishes you could confront him about it—how you miss having a friend even if these feelings you’ve grown for him have tainted your friendship.

But instead, you brush it off. It’s better this way, the distance and silence. Cutting him off quietly.

You have Mateo now, and maybe in time, those feelings you’re trying to force yourself to feel for him will start to feel more real.

In the meantime, you keep Mateo close and Javier at arm’s length, praying the ache in your chest will fade into something easier to ignore.

When things with Helena spiral, Javier’s entire world dips into a darkness he struggles to fight off.

He’d been steeling himself for months, pretending that what he felt for her was just a part of the job, just another way to gather intel, to stay sharp. But things had shifted, unraveled into something he wasn’t prepared for.

She had become more than an informant; something tangible and real, someone he genuinely cared about. He should have known better than to let it get personal—mixing affection with the job, letting his heart get tangled up in a life as brutal as theirs.

It’s in the wake of this disaster that you pop into his mind again. The truth is, he’d forced you out of it completely, buried you beneath his work, his duties, his time with her.

After all, what place did someone like him, wound up in the cartel’s mess, have with someone like you? You were safe, building a life with an uppity banker, someone who could give you things Javier’s world would never allow. 

Security, stability, and something close to a normal life—things he could barely imagine anymore.

And he’d see it, too, in the way you were with Mateo. He could hear it sometimes through the walls, that light laugh of yours, the one that’d once been his to hear on a quiet afternoon or over a shared meal. Now it belonged to someone else.

Javier would watch the asshole come by, flowers in hand, gifts in his arms, looking like the kind of guy he could never be, the kind of guy you deserved.

Maybe that’s why he fell for Helena so quickly, so intensely. She was tough, resilient, unafraid of the shadows he’d cast around him. With her, he didn’t have to pretend.

They shared the same night-bound existence and he didn’t care that she was a prostitute. She understood, even when he didn’t, the danger of crossing those lines in his work, the way it weighed on him, without flinching at the blood on his hands.

But now… he’s haunted by what he should have seen coming. She’d been hurt, and every part of him feels complicit.

He couldn’t protect her, couldn’t protect himself from feeling it all in his bones, and the guilt wraps around his heart, squeezing so tight it might burst. 

The weight of it pulls him under, and he finds himself wondering how he’s going to claw his way out. His work is far from over.

He's at the bottom of a bottle of bourbon one night when he realizes just how long it's been since he’s really seen you.

The ache that realization brings feels like another knife twisting in his chest. Your bright eyes, that quirky laugh you give when he actually manages to crack you up, and the way you can turn his chaos to calm without even trying—they’ve been missing from his life for months now, and he’s feeling the loss more deeply than he wants to admit.

With sluggish, heavy steps, he staggers across his apartment until he ends up at your door. He knocks, too loudly, too long, until you swing it open, looking bleary-eyed and definitely frustrated. He’s clearly woken you up.

“Hola, cariño—”

“It’s two in the goddamn morning, Javier. ¿Qué necesitas?” 

You’ve got your arms crossed, and he blinks a few times, almost impressed with the improvement of your accent. He opens his mouth, trying to form the words, but you beat him to it, eyeing him up and down.

“Are you drunk? You reek of liquor, Peña.” Your tone is flat. “You need to go back home.”

“Te extraño,” he slurs, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “I can’t be in there another second without feelin’ like I’m losing my damn mind.”

You’re sizing him up, at a war with yourself, and he lets his gaze wander even in his bleary state. You’re wearing that familiar robe with a slip dress underneath, and he has no idea if it helps or makes things worse. 

“Then you should probably call your girl,” you say, voice cool. “Or go upstairs and bother Murphy. I have to be up early.”

You go to close the door, but his large palm spreads against it, steadying himself. “Javier—”

“Please,” he says, voice softer. “Don’t do this. Not tonight.”

For a moment, you search his eyes, your own gaze conflicted, and then, almost begrudgingly, you sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, “but you’re out by the time I’m up for work in the morning.”

You let him in, and he feels that distance in your voice like a physical wall between you. It’s his own fault—he knows it, hates it, but here you are, standing back to let him in anyway.

He stumbles, almost falling flat on his face, and your smaller hands catch him with a muttered curse. Like he’s a child.

You steer him to the couch with an exasperated huff, and even as you help him settle, he’s not sure if it’s the liquor making his chest tighten or the fact that you’re handling him with more care than he deserves. 

You wrestle him out of his jacket, tugging it from his broad shoulders, then go for his boots.

The grunts you make in effort, the feeling of your hands on him—even if it’s just to deal with his drunk ass—makes him ache in a way that alcohol only magnifies.

His thoughts drift to places they have no business going. He’d tried to move past the want he felt for you, burying it under other bodies, other names, other distractions. But here you are in a thin slip dress under your robe and all he can think about is how it’d feel to have you moving against him, to finally let his hands roam your curves, bring you pleasure and fuck you like he’s sure no man has. Not even your goody-two-shoes of a boyfriend.

Once he’s settled on your couch, you leave, only to return a moment later with a glass of water, setting it on the coffee table with a quiet sigh. “If you need to puke, please use my bathroom,” you say flatly, “not the new couch.”

“New couch?” he mumbles, sitting up on his elbows and frowning at it. “What was wrong with the old one?”

You just shake your head, the patience gone from your expression. “Goodnight, Javi,” you say flatly, but he stops you before you leave.

“Thank you for this and I’m sorry—”

“Just stop,” you cut him off with a deep sigh. “You’re always apologizing and I don’t want to hear it. Get some rest.” And then you’re gone, the door to your room closing softly but definitively behind you.

After that night, he tries to make things go back to normal but the distance that happened during that time seems impossible to close now.

Every attempt he makes to lessen it only meets the cool edge of your guarded smile or your quick, polite excuses to cut conversations short. The silence between you has settled too deeply now, like it’s found a home where friendship used to be.

He doesn’t know what to do and you’re still stuck in your forced delusion that Mateo is what you want.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️: @persephone-girl . @almostempty . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @samanthajonees . @dontlookatme121 . @thundermartini . @dinanabuu . @cherrysugarx . @dontlookatme121 . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

[junktastic]

Hi everynyan,

Some of you will remember that I was taking names/addresses to send out free stickers in September. I am almost done sending them out now, so here's a quick update on that.

The Good!

I like this a lot! It's fun to do. For reference, I'm printing, laminating, and cutting these myself at home, so I'm learning a lot about my machine. I like being in charge of the quality control, I like doing the logistic work. Idk. It's fulfilling to me.

It's also really delightful to see names on the list who I've known of for a long time. Old and new faces, people all over the world, I love seeing people adopt a catgirl. :3 And for free! I'm by no means making a lot, but being able to provide something fun and physical to the people who enjoy my art for free is just! Wow!

The Bad!

Everything that could have gone wrong during this process did, which is why they're going out so late. The at-home manufacturing process was relatively simple but the materials kept being funky, or I'd do something wrong, so I'd have to toss something that I'd completely fucked up, OR I'd just miscount how much stuff material I had left. It's been a pain in the butt, so I'm glad it's done and that I've learned so much from it. I ALMOST FORGOT, I DESTROYED ONE CUTTING MAT MAKING THAT ROGER STANDEE FOR MY WEDDING LOL SO I HAD TO SPEND TIME CONDITIONING THE NEW CUTTING MAT! UGH!

There's also: the money. I know it's gauche to talk about it, but doing this was pretty expensive. I live in Canada now, and most of the letters were going out of Canada, so that postage added up. Materials cost, time, it's a pretty good chunk of change, but I didn't go broke so I want to do it again.

The Other?

I definitely want (and plan) to do this again very soon. I'm talking within this month. I'm making Christmas cards! I've already set money aside for this so it's all good, and it involves less at-home manufacturing since I can just reach out to a local print shop.

I know some people were wary of the google form, but I can't really find a better alternative at this time. MailChimp has had at least one major information leak in 2024 alone, so I am not sure where else to turn for collecting addresses at this time. I had a few people who did not give me towns/zip codes, and the street address would have three or four towns in that state alone with that address. Since I didn't collect e-mail addresses, I didn't have any way to reach out to entrants about this. If you don't see your sticker in the next few weeks, this might be why! I also plan on adding a checkbox just to confirm that the person requesting the sticker is over 18, NOT because I plan on sending anything saucy, but I know what it's like to be a teen with parents who open you mail, an I don't want to cause problems for anyone because Mom and Dad think fairies are satanic or something.

Most people I've talked to about all of this have really emphasized that I need to reopen my Patreon. I'm not saying anybody is wrong on this, but it just makes me feel so uncomfortable. I think anyone who's followed me for a while has seen me try and fail to do art full time or, hell, even have a schedule for something, and I've failed every time. I'm so scared of failing people again. How can I ensure that I'm producing things on time, to a standard I am happy with, that anyone willing to support me (in this economy?) would also be happy with? It will probably happen, but I'm just so... Plus, with all honesty, I have a commission backlog that I need to finish first! I'm bad at the business part of this whole thing, I think. I'm a blue-collar labourer in my heart.

That's my update! I wish you all well, please stay safe and take care of yourself and those around you. I'll post again when I'm collecting addresses for the Christmas cards.

[chrrychills]

i love your writing its so yummy i was wondering if you could maybe wirte school bus graveyard main cast with a reader who forgets to eat and spends alot of time sleeping

have a good day/night

in my head i do everything right .

main six « forgetful, sleepy so!

ashlyn banner:

•she's not amused. at all. at first, it starts off as annoyance because she thinks you're lazy/ don't take care of yourself. once you explain that you can't help how tired you are, she eases up.

•she'll 100% scold you every time you tell her you forgot to eat. without fail. it's out of love, though.

•ashlyn doesn't have a huge appetite, but she'll keep snacks like granola/ protein bars in her locker in case you need them during the school day.

•she can't cook at all, but she'll invite you over for dinner with her parents. they love having you over and will make your favorite food every time you wind up at their house, wether it's for dinner or to spend the night.

•since she's not a fan on pda, she probably won't let you sleep on her shoulder or anything like that in public, but it's fine in private.

•she'll also let you fall asleep in class and make sure the teacher doesn't catch you.

•will never understand how you're always so tired, because she's witnessed you sleep for a good 10 hours.

aiden clark:

•in contrast to ashlyn, he is highly amused whenever you fall asleep near him and uses the opportunity to mess with you.

•he's (horribly) braiding your hair, drawing on your arms, the whole nine yards. the only reason he's not drawing on your face is because he knows you'd get mad when you woke up.

•certified big back. he 100% has snacks on him at all times and won't hesitate to share when you tell him you're hungry/ you forgot to eat.

•his pantry is stacked with snacks, so best believe he's dragging you off the bus with him almost everyday to hang out/ raid his pantry. his parents are so tired of having to restock it. save them.

•he knocks out when he gets sleepy, so if y'all are having a sleepover it's the best sleep of your life. you two have slept through the day on multiple occasions.

•will let you sleep on him anytime, anywhere. he'll mess with you, but he'll still offer a shoulder if you're tired.

•menace. if you fall asleep in class/ are eating in class, he keeps threatening to snitch and get you in trouble. he never does, though.

ben clark:

•another snack carrier, but he has all of your favorites and probably keeps one or two drinks in his locker.

•we've established that ben's a giant teddy bear, and you 100% use that to your advantage. whenever you're tired, you can tuck yourself against his shoulder and conk out. he never minds.

•huge worrier, especially when you first started dating. he still does worry when you don't eat for hours on end/ sleep for an entire 12 hours, but he's gotten better at managing it.

•loves naps. it's routine for you two to end up at his house and nap until dinner time. aiden's tried to wake you guys up multiple times but it never works, so he doesn't do it anymore.

•he loves to bake, so it's not uncommon for him to send you home with something sweet to snack on whenever you feel like it. he loves having you cling to him and gush about how good the food was, so he keeps doing it. plus, it keeps you fed.

•tries his hardest to help fix your sleep schedule, but it never works. you either fall asleep at 4 pm or 4 am and he has no idea why.

tyler hernandez:

•tyler's big on taking care of people he loves, you know that. so it's no surprise when he's scolding you for forgetting to eat but pulling your favorite snack out of his bag, or forcing your head on his shoulder and telling you to sleep because you keep yawning.

•another big napper. when he doesn't have practice– and even when he does, he'll somehow end up in your bed, cuddled up next to you and fast asleep.

•he can COOK. tyler is master chef. whatever you want, he can most likely make. and if he can't, he'll look it up online and it always turns out amazing.

•you honestly get a lot better with remembering to eat after being with him for a while because he's always on your ass about it. you can't even be mad because you know he does it out of love.

•he'll keep food with him in case you need it, but he'll steal bites of it while you're trying to eat. he's so amused and finds himself hilarious. you don't agree.

•he's either scolding you for not eating, not sleeping, or sleeping too much. you can't win.

taylor hernandez:

•she's a sweetheart, so not only will she have your favorite food at all times, but she'll recruit (force) tyler to make/buy it whenever she's running low.

•she's more concerned than anything. first of all, how do you sleep so much and still manage to be tired? second, do you just not have an appetite? she doesn't understand.

•taylor invites you over for dinner at least five nights a week and tyler does not appreciate it, because that means he has to make more food.

•she'll let you fall asleep on her in public, private, wherever. she doesn't care as long as you're getting the rest you need.

•biggest cuddle bug ever. as soon as you tell her you're tired, she's dragging you to bed to cuddle.

•if she misses you, she's not above coming over uninvited and waking you up from a nap so you guys can hang out. she'll deal with the half asleep grumbling if it means she can see you.

•taylor banned you from her bed because it's so soft and comfortable that you literally fall asleep immediately.

lacey's notes:

honey im home.

send requests or just talk to me i missed my bestest friends

title:

[itsaspectrumcomic]

hey! before I begin, I wanted to say how much I love your comics!! the style and palettes are really soothing, and it's always nice to read them, relate heavily, and not feel quite such an oddball!! so thanks :]

I (very recently) received the results of my diagnosis for autism and adhd (I got both, and a couple other smaller things) and was wondering what things you did differently immediately after diagnosis that helped you? I've tried things like proper organisation and cleaning, keeping on top of deadlines for college as much as I am able, and trying to study as much as I can (a levels are very stressful even though I've only just started the course, and while these solutions are what's considered "good" by the college, its not really helping me as much as I would like)

a large part of the diagnosis was dedicated to brain function (I had the privelidge of being assessed privately, so the evidence was very detailed and thorough), and I scored stupidly high on vocabulary and language study. However, I feel like there's somewhat of a disconnect between the effort I've put in on my foreign language studies and the progress I'm seeing- I'm trying so so hard to understand grammatical concepts and absorb a lot of vocabulary in preparation for some smaller tests in the near future, but I'm not seeing the reward during lessons or even with preparation. I am fully aware that with all the work and effort I'm spending, I am closer than I would like to be to a meltdown and probably burnout, which I desperately want to avoid. It just feels that although my brain is wired for linguistic study, I feel like I'm falling behind or failing

I guess if you have any advice or anything that helped you once your diagnosis was confirmed, or tips for study, I would be greatly appreciative :]

Tldr: struggling with study and fearful of failure, any advice?

hnng I remember the stress of A levels, you couldn't pay me to go through that again 🫠

After being diagnosed I started to allow myself to unmask and stim in more obvious ways. Previously my stims had generally been pretty small, like flicking my fingers or wiggling a bit, but now I allow myself to flap and rock and play with fidget toys as well and it genuinely does help release tension.

It sounds like your're working really hard - if you feel close to burnout and/or meltdowns, you might be working too hard. I also found it really hard to take breaks when I was studying (...still do) but the truth is, by not allowing your mind to rest, you're actually making it harder for yourself to learn and retain information.

So my advice is, take a break! A real break, not 'I'm gonna scroll on my phone for a bit' or 'I went to the toilet that counts as a break right'. Get up, step away from your work for at least an hour, and do something you find relaxing and fun. Go for a walk or just sit outside. Make yourself a drink. Take a nap if you need to. Try to avoid looking at screens during your break if you can. And when you go back to studying, schedule times to have regular short breaks as well (eg a 10 minute break every hour). I set alarms for mine because otherwise I forget to move for five hours.

A break allows your brain to process the information and let it settle properly. When you go back to work you'll hopefully feel more refreshed and able to take in information again. Remember, if you've just started the course, then this is a marathon, not a sprint, so please try not to overdo it and burn yourself out right at the start. Conserve your energy for the long haul.

If you're still struggling, are you able to ask for help, maybe from a friend or a teacher? A teacher could give you some techniques on how to improve in the specific areas you find difficult, and sometimes just talking through the bit you're having trouble with or not understanding can help a lot.

Good luck with your studies and I hope you take some time to rest as well :)

[cele-ish]

I am so so glad someone's bringing this up!

While usually I am strong defender of Genshin's localisation, most of Mona's constellation lines were butchered. The Chinese version gives us this:

「雄狮」早早离群，但她会继续成长，直到能完全继承狮群的荣耀。

which roughly translates to:

The "male lion" left the group early, but she will continue to grow until she can fully inherit the glory of the lion group.

It's not about her being separated from her pack. It sounds like it's about Diluc leaving and throwing his responsibilities on Jean's shoulders. He was the leader of the pack, the Favonious prodigy and from what we've heard about him, he was most likely considered to be Varka's successor. Jean was not prepared to shoulder all that unexpectedly at the ripe age of 17 and she always has to live up to the legend of the knight that Diluc was - at least in her head.

He was to be the sword, she was to be the shield, as indicated through their c6 constellations. Now she has to carry both.

Add to that the fact that Jean carries the burden of guilt for what happened to Diluc and that the Knights harboured a traitor. She thinks it's up to her to make the Knights as an organisation worthy of Diluc's respect again, so that his tragedy does not repeat ever again.

It doesn't help that Varka seems to take Jean for granted and has no consideration for her capacity - and since she was raised in the belief that she's only worth what she's able to offer Mondstadt, she will not protect her boundaries.

He sounds extremely dismissive even when talking about Jean to her mother. He doesn't respect the effort Jean is putting in at all. it's just odd errands, haha.

Most people in Mondstadt only see her achievements and are completely oblivious to their cost. She's wearing herself thin because she believes she has to work twice as hard to barely match the expectations and make up for her "shortcomings". She wants to have a perfect schedule, as her mother intended for her, but no matter how much she adjusts it (she's on version XVII, mind you!) she can't match the unrealistic standard and keeps falling behind and sacrificing her wellbeing trying to chase it. I also think of her to be a girlie who buys all the fresh produce, makes a weekly meal plan just to lack the time and energy to actually cook so she ends up eating random 'girl dinner' stuff (or takeaway pizza!) while her groceries rot away and she feels bad about it.

I even see her relationship with Klee as a result of "someone's gotta do it" state of mind. She's not well suited to taking care of a child, she's so awkward with Klee and even snaps at Kaeya's joke that she could pose as Klee's mother during the Golden Apple Archipelago. Yet she recognises that this child, with very unpredictable pyro powers, left behind in the city by her mother, is in need of formal protection and parental figures, even if unconventional ones. She has no idea how to connect with Klee yet still she does the right thing, enrolls her into the KoF as means of protection and making sure she's sheltered and taken care of.

If I were to choose her theme song, I wouldn't hesitate and pick "Surface Pressure" from Encanto right away. "Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service"? Please, that's Jean right away.

Both Kaeya and Lisa see through Jean's mask of professionalism and poise. They always look after her, voice their concerns. Lisa after Weinlesefest says how she's disappointed with Varka, Kaeya during the first Archon Quest even straight up mentions how becoming Acting Grand Master "must have been hard on Jean" if you talk with him in her office. Both of them are willing to push their boundaries to help out Jean, staying up late and finishing up her overdue work.

Additionally, Kaeya is always quick to put people in their place and remind them of Jean's authority. He always, always is trying to help Jean relax, whether it is through TCG, throwing her a party (and even clearing out her tasks so that she can actually enjoy it), or going out for drinks in Simulanka. These lines were not anyhow pushing the plot yet they were added either way. That means all of this is important. Given how close he was to Diluc, only he would truly know first hand how hard it was (is?) to walk in his shoes. Both him (as the Cavalry Captain) and Jean have to face it and do the heavy lifting. It's a unique mutual understanding.

So, tldr, under all that reliability and elegance is a stressed out disaster girlie who always thinks she's not good enough so she overworks herself to compensate for it.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, now I am late to places but I regret nothing.

I love all the hints at Jean not coping that well with being Acting Grand Master, because to nearly everyone it seems like she is but she just kinda isn't. Like, obviously there's her story quest where she just collapses from overworking herself but there are all these other examples that show that homegirl is not alright.

Like Jean this is not a normal way to consume coffee. This seems a lot more like dependence than "coffee just makes me feel a bit more awake" or just liking the drink.

And like wdym she's completing random reviews at 3am because she got sick (probably from overworking) and then not allowing herself to buy a book. Like that's just sad.

Like bro Mona took one look at Jean's constellation and was like "girl you've had too much on your plate for FAR too long". And then probably realised how depressing that sounded and was like "idk she's like really strong thoughhhh, it's not all baddd"

Like even Kaeya's concerned bro. At least she's got him looking out for her though.

[sourscratched]

lordsothewing wips/scraps that have been in my drafts for too long

(squaks outfit in the third pic is loosely based off the one in the music video for Prince’s “Controversy” mostly just with more squak-y colors)

[quatregats]

I was tagged by @petxina to do this picrew and talk about my interests and hobbies, perdona per haver trigat tant :')

As for hobbies and interests, I think anyone who follows this blog knows I have too many of those...I obviously really like languages, which is what I first got Tumblr to post about, basically anything from more technical linguistics to language learning to larger societal processes of language use! I love the IPA I love historical linguistics I love morphology I love discourse analysis I love anthropological linguistics etc etc. Aside from that, I also love music, I listen to it all the time and I love to sing (especially folk songs/group sings/singing with friends in a wholly amateur way), and I play piano and violin sometimes. I'm also into worldbuilding, I've had the brainworms for the last several years and love to invent weird worlds to dissociate from reality yay! And I love tiny stuff, I have a whole world of tiny animal figurines in my room that I've had since I was a kid and I'm hoping to build it into a tiny city someday. That's more than enough interests so we'll pause there, but I am incapable of being normal so know that there are many more things I could list alas :')

I'll tag @mycological-mariner @marazt @sailorpants @chiropteracupola @neonblixtar @hey-scully-itsme @zsofiarosebud and anyone else who wants to!

[dreamlogic]

lmfao i think i've had someone text or call me on all but one (1) of my days off so far asking me to come in & work, and i have never once said yes.

"are you available to come in today?" no, my days off are already so intermittent & unpredictable that when i'm not scheduled to work in advance, that time fills up quickly & you can't have it.

"where are you? we need you!" at home sleeping in cuz i turned in a leave slip & this time off was approved last week, check your records.

"we had some call outs & your position gets first dibs on overtime! you want it?" you phrase that as if it's some kind of privilege. i already rack up enough overtime working the 6 full days a week you schedule me for every week, no thanks.

[flying-cat]

ily bakugou katsuki u are the only thing that hasn't pissed me off today

[peterbazooca]

At this point I'm just treating this blog as a dumping ground for pieces of a fic I would write if I had the time/energy pls enjoy my humble offerings, these bastards have bewitched me body and soul

In the wake of the fight with Cazador, Ronen was as brittle as a glass figurine. The aftereffects, he supposed, of coming so close to losing Astarion. When they had burst into the ritual chamber, when Cazador had trapped Astarion in that beam of light, his heart had stopped beating. Even when they’d managed to pull him out, even when, clothed in nothing but a tattered pair of breeches, he had joined them in their fight against his former master, Ronen's heart remained a still, dead thing. It wasn’t until Cazador lay bleeding and dead, truly dead, at their feet, with the eyes of seven thousand vampire spawn on them, that Ronen had felt the cursed muscle remember itself and come to life once more.

After urging the spawn to take to the Underdark,Karlach had rustled up a cloak to wrap around Astarion’s shoulders until they could locate his armor, and the vampire had pulled the material in tight, shielding himself from their gaze, refusing to look any of them in the eye.

One more blow like that, and Ronen feared he would shatter completely.

It was a quiet journey back to their temporary campsite by the river. Ronen was eager to get back to their rooms at the Elf Song, but none of them were in any condition to travel that far, not with the trails of blood they were leaving on the cobblestones on their solemn march through the quiet nighttime streets.

As soon as they made it back, Astarion peeled away, the bloodied cloak balled in his fist, fiddling with the buckles of his armor like he longed to strip it from his body but refused to succumb to the urge. Ronen watched him pace the puddles by his tent, his hair a matted tangle, his skin sallow in the moonlight, until something like heat reached inside him and let him know he was no longer alone.

“I’m glad to see you all back in one piece,” Halsin greeted him, his voice a soothing rumble against the cracks growing inside of him.

Ronen wondered who it was that had taken on the task of filling the druid in on their trip to Cazador's palace, but the thought fell away from him without much effort. He couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off Astarion, but he let himself lean, just a bit, against the large, warm elf at his side. He fought for words, something he could offer Halsin, something he could offer himself. A monumental task, considering comfort had never been a part of his life.

“He looks so untouchable, Halsin, and all I want to do is hold him. Tell him I’m proud of him.” It felt silly to say it out loud, but that didn’t make it any less true.

“There will be opportunity for that yet, my heart, but you must give him time. What he’s been through today, turning his back on all that power…his soul remains intact, but he must still mourn for what he’s lost.”

Halsin’s words shook something loose inside of him. His brittle flesh felt more stable. Just a bit. Ronen breathed deep and tore his eyes from Astarion’s pale, pacing figure.

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” He rustled up a smile for the elf. “It’s part of why I keep you around.”

Halsin smirked.

“I think I may have a guess or two at the other reasons.” A large, warm hand landed on the nape of Ronen’s neck. “Will you sit with me a while? I’m working on a new carving that’s giving me a bit of trouble. Some company would go a long way to easing my vexation.”

Ronen allowed himself to be led—willingly, always willingly—in the direction of Halsin’s tent.

“Oh? Another stubborn duck giving you trouble?”

Halsin’s grip on his neck tightened. “No, a fox this time. I found an intriguing bit of rosewood on the road here and I’ve been working at it for quite some time.”

Ronen’s smile was the first effortless one he could remember in quite some time. He had always liked foxes.

[schrijverr]

Tomorrow is my deadline for the first draft of my MA thesis, the fact that no one stopped me from writing this much fanfiction while I should have been working on my thesis is both highly criminal and very much appreciated

[natugood]

make it make sense that I enjoy doing my job (especially the tedious parts) when I am off the clock, but as soon as I am supposed to be working I'd rather be doing LITERALLY anything else????

[jrueships]

um. so i ended up waking up around ghe time i would've went to work originally before the like 9hr email notice of the shift change per manager that is STILL not changed in the schedule... and it started downpouring and storming smthing awful lmao. ... wtf ??

[showyoumyfavoriteobsession]

Roughly once every four years I ponder the alternate timeline where I didn't get scared and quit college rugby after a single practice

[kerosene-saint]

so many things happening in my life in the next couple months and it feels like my life is turning around compared to how I felt this time last year which was complete and utter dread and burn out in every sense of the word