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fear-less · 3 days ago

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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r is a gryffindor lol, this is lowkey super short… 2.1k words, the next chapter will be better...trust

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It had been weeks. Weeks since James had last spoken to you, the last time you had talked was in december, now you're almost two weeks into february, and the rift between you only seemed to grow wider. At first, he told himself he was giving you space. He thought that if he stayed back, you’d eventually come to him, and things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

Every time James worked up the courage to approach you, it was the same thing: you were with him.

Finn Laurier.

James hated how the name left a sour taste in his mouth. Finn wasn’t a bad guy—he was charming, clever, and polite. Too polite, in James’s opinion. Finn Laurier was completely different from James, and that only made the knot of insecurity and jealousy in James’s chest tighten.

While James was loud and brash, Finn had an easygoing, quiet confidence about him. Where James was all about grand gestures and bold declarations, Finn had a knack for subtlety and knowing the right thing to say at the right time. It didn’t help that Finn had somehow managed to claim the spot James had always held at your side, and you didn’t seem to mind.

From across the common room, James watched as Finn leaned in closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You laughed at something he said, the sound tugging at James’s heart in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does she even see in him?” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius, sprawled out beside him, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s good-looking, smart, and doesn’t look like he’s been moping for weeks?”

James glared at him. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Sirius drawled. “That’s why you’ve been staring at them for the past ten minutes like you’re about to hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex him,” James grumbled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s very mature of you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in from his corner, not looking up from his book. “But maybe instead of glaring at him, you should focus on fixing things with her.”

“Yeah, because that’s gone so well for me so far,” James shot back bitterly.

“Have you even tried?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. The truth was, he had tried—at least, he thought he had. But every time he saw you, Finn was there, making you laugh, leaning just a little too close. And every time, James felt like his chances were slipping further and further away.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to ignore the knot of confusion and hurt that James’s behavior had left behind. You weren’t blind to the way he’d been avoiding you, or how he seemed to retreat every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

Finn had been a welcome distraction. He was kind, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, he didn’t make you feel like you’d done something wrong. But even as you laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling of James’s eyes on you from across the room.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all of a sudden,” Finn said, tilting his head slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small smile. “I just… I guess I’m a little distracted.”

Finn nodded, his expression understanding. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, Finn,” you said softly, though your gaze drifted back toward James.

He was still sitting on the couch with Sirius, looking like he was caught between frustration and defeat. When your eyes met for the briefest of moments, he quickly looked away, running a hand through his already messy hair.

You sighed, your chest tightening. Whatever had happened between you and James, it felt bigger than anything you could fix with a simple conversation. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this silent stalemate.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now James’s second least favorite day—Valentine’s Day. His least favorite day was still the one he’d sat in Charms class and watched you laugh with Finn Laurier for the first time. That moment had burned itself into his memory, playing on a cruel loop every time he closed his eyes.

But this… this was a close second.

If you had told James back in December that he’d be avoiding you on Valentine’s Day instead of spending it as a happy, loved-up couple, he would have called you mad. Back then, he’d been so sure of himself. So sure that his letter, his heartfelt, trembling confession, would be the thing that finally made you see him as more than just James Potter, your goofy best friend.

And yet, here he was, slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by heart-shaped confetti that refused to disappear no matter how many times he swatted it away. The house elves had really outdone themselves this year—floating cupid decorations zipped around the room, shooting glittering pink arrows into the air. James glared at one that came a little too close, muttering something about “bloody overkill.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair.

“Well, don’t be sulking for the whole day,” Sirius said, perched on the arm of the couch nearby. His tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re all supposed to go to The Three Broomsticks soon, remember?”

James let out another unintelligible grumble, something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t want to,” though the exact words were lost in his sulk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, mate, this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been moping around for weeks.”

“I’m not moping,” James shot back, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“You’re literally the definition of moping,” Sirius said, smirking. “You’re sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at a cupid like it personally insulted your family.”

“I don’t want to go to The Three Broomsticks,” James muttered.

“And why not?” Sirius pressed, though James could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because she might be there,” he admitted quietly.

“She, as in you-know-who?” Sirius teased, though his smirk softened slightly when he saw the genuine frustration on James’s face. “Look, Prongs, you can’t avoid her forever. It’s a small castle. You’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice tight. “But I just… I can’t deal with seeing her with him today, alright? Not on bloody Valentine’s Day.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re assuming she’s spending the day with Finn, but has she actually told you that?”

James hesitated. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why wouldn’t she? He’s—he’s Finn Laurier, for Merlin’s sake. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t she spend Valentine’s Day with him?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching, “that instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, you could actually try talking to her. Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

James stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea of approaching you now, after everything, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. But Sirius’s words planted a small, stubborn seed of hope in his mind.

“Fine,” James muttered, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As James followed Sirius out of the common room, his mind raced with a hundred different scenarios. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he saw you—or if he even had the courage to say anything at all. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t keep hiding forever. But it looks like the odds were not in his favor–he felt like his world was crumbling. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sirius, it just made things worse. You had said yes to being Finn’s valentine–and worst of all, who asks a girl out on valentine's day?

James scoffed, his sadness shifting into a simmering anger. He quickly left the scene, Sirius trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Slow down, Prongs!” Sirius called.

James didn’t respond, only slowing when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused there, allowing Sirius to catch up before muttering the password under his breath. As the portrait swung open, James turned to his friend with a scowl.

“I’m never listening to you again.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested, throwing up his hands. “How was I supposed to know Laurier would swoop in right then and there?”

Inside the common room, Remus and Peter exchanged curious glances.

“What happened?” Remus asked, his tone cautious.

“She was right there,” James burst out, his voice rising with frustration. “And so was Laurier. He asked her out! They didn’t even see me—or Sirius, thankfully—but still!” He threw himself into an armchair, running a hand through his already messy hair.

The others stayed silent, unsure how to comfort him.

After an awkward three minutes, Peter cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we head to the Three Broomsticks? A bit of butterbeer might help take your mind off things.”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then, as if possessed by some newfound resolve, he stood abruptly.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone. “If she can be completely unbothered after I confessed my undying love for her, then ignore me, and worst of all—start dating some tosser who’s the polar opposite of me—then fine. I’ll move on too. Starting now. Let’s go.”

The other Marauders stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the James they knew—the James who would spend hours pestering Sirius about why you hadn’t replied to his letters, the James who badgered Remus for details about your every interaction, the James who constantly begged Peter for updates about you in the classes you shared.

It was as if the James Potter they knew had been replaced by someone else entirely.

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed with snow, the cold biting at their cheeks as the Marauders made their way to the Three Broomsticks. James led the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his jaw set tight. He was unusually quiet, his normal easy going demeanor replaced with something sharper, more defensive.

Sirius tried to break the silence first. “Prongs, mate, you know she didn’t do it to hurt you, right? She probably didn’t even know how you felt.”

James let out a sharp laugh, his breath clouding in the cold air. “She didn’t know? Oh, she knew. I wrote her a bloody letter, Padfoot. I poured my heart out. If she didn’t get the hint, then she’s thicker than I thought—and she’s not thick.”

Sirius grimaced, clearly regretting his choice of words. “Alright, alright, bad point. But still, Laurier? The guy’s got the personality of a Flobberworm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. “Apparently, she likes Flobberworms.”

Peter, trying to ease the tension, piped up, “Well, maybe Laurier’s just a rebound, you know? She’ll realize what a tosser he is soon enough.”

Remus shot Peter a warning look, but James seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“Rebound from what?” James muttered. “She’s never been with anyone to rebound from.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the snow-covered street. The group filed in, quickly finding a table in the back corner. The usual bustling energy of the pub seemed muted to James, his mind too occupied with replaying the moment he’d seen you say yes to Finn Laurier.

A round of butterbeers arrived at the table, and Sirius pushed a tankard in front of James. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “We’re going to have a laugh, you’re going to forget about Laurier, and tomorrow, you’ll go back to being your annoying, charming self. Sounds good?”

James took a long sip of his butterbeer, the warm liquid doing little to ease the ache in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Forget about her. Easy.”

“James,” Remus said gently, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not acting,” James snapped, though his tone softened almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, both of them unconvinced.

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mr-mercutio · 2 days ago

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I remember once I was at a T-shaped intersection, crossing on the right side of the T from top down. About a second into walking into the street, y'know - after waiting for the lights to change and the walk signal to come on, this guy revs up and pulls into the intersection, ready to turn right. Already breaking the law of course, pulling right into the street before I was all the way across. And then he leans out of his window and starts screaming at me to hurry up and get across the street.

I didn't even have the opportunity to check for this fucker to see if he was going to let me cross. Put aside that I had right of way and had waited for the lights to change, he hadn't even BEEN at the intersection, just came zipping down at me.

I didn't feel terrified until after the whole thing was done. In the moment I was just so angry because how dare he, honestly? How dare he come so close to being able to just murder me with his fucking truck and then get mad at ME because I'm slowing him down by a few seconds?

I was so mad that I actually stopped in the middle of the crosswalk and looked him dead in the eyes. And I wish this was the part of the story where I could say he looked ashamed of himself, where I could think maybe he learned something that day that would change how he drove or treated people. Maybe he looked back at me and realized how much power he held over my life in that moment and mouthed "sorry" at me.

But no, he just got more angry and leaned on his horn and called me a faggot. I must have been the worst part of his day, the way he was acting.

So I just gave him the finger and resumed crossing the street, albeit at a snail's pace because I'm a petty little bitch when I'm mad. And as soon as there was any clearance behind me he went zooming off, still screaming at me. I could see another driver waiting at the intersection, one who had a red light still, look absolutely horrified. I think she felt more shame as a driver than this guy did.

And seeing her face was when I felt scared. When the reality dawned on me of how easily I could have been killed in that moment just because I was an inconvenience to an asshole. I slowed him down for an extra 20 seconds, and he treated me like absolute trash. He could have killed me so easily. The only power I had in that moment was to make his day just a little bit worse by extending the inconvenience a few more seconds. And I took that power gleefully in the moment, but I really shouldn't have. I should have just crossed the street because what if he did decide then to run me over? I would love to say that even this douchebag supreme wouldn't be that bad, but honestly? How could I know? If he was that willing to fly off the handle with zero provocation, I shouldn't have trusted that he wouldn't run me down for slowing down and giving him the finger. But taking the tiny bit of power I had in that moment felt really good and necessary in the heat of the moment.

I dunno, I don't have a good lesson here. I don't regret it in the slightest but I do also think it wasn't the safe thing to do. It wasn't worth the risk of dying in that moment.

Some people have no concept of the power they hold. This story is far and away not the only time I feel like I've come close to being killed by drivers who were stupid, angry, mean, or just plain not paying attention. I wish more people would remember that they're piloting a killing machine at high velocity and I'm just a little fleshbag out in the open air. I have to be so careful, and it makes me a bit bitter to watch the drivers who blithely zoom around and forget to stop or slow down or check for pedestrians like me.

Nothing exposes the inability of people to navigate power imbalances quite like the relationship between drivers and pedestrians.

For example, I just had a driver get screaming-at-me mad because I stopped walking at a slip lane to make sure he was going to stop. And like, buddy, I know I have the right of way, but if I assume you are going to stop and I guess wrong, I will literally die. Whereas if I wait to see if you're actually going to slow down, I am just delaying both of us by a couple of seconds. And that might have more to do with why I made the choice that I did than my being a stupid bitch who needs to learn the rules. Like, if you can't understand why the fact that you could effortlessly accidentally kill me (and likely face no consequences) means I am reticent to assume the best from you, maybe you just shouldn't have any power over anyone ever.

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widebrimmedhatsblog · 2 days ago

Note

ONYX STORM SPOILERS (for your readers)

If you feel like it, will you expand on how you think they are still involved romantically in the end of onyx storm? Like I get that they are married but that seems to more to secure Violet’s future without him. It doesn’t seem to be because he has any hopes of any kind of future for the two of them together. Romantically or otherwise. He doesn’t want her to look for him. Aren’t they as broken up as they can be at this point? I’d love to hear your thoughts (and love another/different perspective because these thoughts I’m currently having are honestly making me feel ill).

Also thank you for your contributions to the fandom!! Honestly I think fanfic is the only thing that’s gonna get me through this. Hope we get an upsurge of riorgail fluff from everyone 🙏🏼

I have never felt like doing anything more, anon!!! I get what you're saying, and I think that's the way Rebecca/Red Tower WANT us to see it, because they want us to be anxious about where it's going so that we buy the next book. However, I refuse to subscribe to that! Here's why:

(I wrote an actual essay, so it's below the cut:)

"Together romantically" My answer to the other ask was me visiting the Xaden Liarson school of verbal gymnastics so that I didn't spoil the ending for that anon. However, judging by Xaden's behavior throughout ALL of Onyx Storm (and frankly, books 1 and 2 as well) he wouldn't marry her just to dip overall. Like, even not being meta here, he wouldn't do that. He's selfish when it comes to her, for one thing, and he says this repeatedly. For another, he CLEARLY wants to marry her just to marry her. I don't want to get sucked in to another re-read (and someone else asked for my thoughts on the ending in general, so I'll reply to that ask once I'm done with my second re-read in the next few days with more page numbers and quotes and things) but in the scene with his mother, Xaden's reaction seems to illustrate that marriage is NOT a tool for him like it was for his father. He wants to marry Violet because he loves her. Now, obviously the shotgun (crossbow?) wedding was ALSO a move to protect her and solidify her place without him as you said, but with how he talked about marriage throughout the book, and how he talked about HER, he's not marrying her just to dip. He's just not! It means something to him, as she does, and he's not going to forsake that.

Violet Violet isn't letting him marry her just to dip either. Her thoughts throughout the entire book are that she isn't scared of him and she isn't running, and she isn't letting him run from her, either. The way the scene is set up with Sgaeyl, we see:

(Sgaeyl) glances over her shoulder. "And you think she'll help?" "She loves me." "Tairn does not, and you haven't looked in the mirror yet. The red veins branching from your eyes look like her lightning." "She'll help." It comes out with a hell of a lot more certainty than I feel. "She promised."

I am slightly worried about pronoun fuckery in this bit, but we know Violet loves him more than anything, and this portion of Xaden's chapter makes it clear Violet has to agree to whatever the plan is (murdering dragons, stealing eggs, etc) and that Tairn does as well. I think Tairn would actually support them breaking up, to a certain degree, and whatever the plan is, Sgaeyl does NOT think Tairn will be down.

And then, for more confirmation:

"We will ask," Sgaeyl finally says, flexing her claws in the rocky soil "And her decision will determine our fate."

They need Violet on board for whatever they're doing. Violet isn't going to be on board with him dumping her post wedding. I know some of these lines can point in other directions, but I don't think they do, for the reasons I'll go on to spell out below!

3. Memories I know some people were confused about what, precisely, Imogen made Violet forget, and it seems like she's missing 12 hours (which, insane signet growth, Im). I could not get over Violet forgetting her wedding. Hours after I finished the book, I was like, oh my God. She can't remember her wedding, and I burst into tears. Repeatedly. At length. Which is insane, because these books NEVER make me cry. All this to say, (again, given Xaden's tone specifically surrounding marriage) they aren't going to take having her forget their wedding lightly. They just aren't. She has to forget everything in those twelve hours, because she helps Xaden concoct/finalize whatever the hell he's planning on doing (I'll probably share what I think he's planning on doing in my response to the ask I mentioned above, but the gist of it for now is that mans is going on a quest of his own), but Violet ASKS Imogen to make her forget. In the marriage aspect, Xaden's protecting Violet, but in forgetting, Violet's protecting Xaden. This is why I say romantically together as well. I think the love is more important than anything else. I think the point of this book was to make it clear they'd both do absolutely anything for the other, and the ending is a culmination of that. I know some people suggested that they have her forget so that she can't be interrogated and used against him, and I think that's definitely true (although I think making her duchess also protects her from this, but Violet has always doubted her own ability to lie). Personally, my gut instinct interpretation was that deal she made with Ridoc that she'd let Ridoc kill him if Xaden took being venin too far (which, side note, do we all just forget about them being interconnected when it suits us??? He can't die because then Violet will die. We've been over this. I digress). Clearly everyone seems to think his little "display" at the end of the book is "too far." I don't know if he killed anyone important in that scene (again, I actually thought Bodhi dies? At first? And THAT was why she had to marry Xaden to secure the duchy while he was gone? but Red Tower seems to be very in tune to fandom priorities, and with how many people love Bodhi, killing him off page would certainly be a choice) but he's still at least an Asim, if not a Sage (given the veins, I'm 99% sure he's a Sage, but again, we don't get anything concrete in that ending. side eye, Red Tower. side eye.) and therefore everyone thinks he betrayed them, and he needs to get out of there before everyone else kills him! By forgetting, Violet is saving his life. That's romantically together to me.

4. Quest! Xaden doesn't leave Violet to pull an Edward and frolic around Europe for a few months or whatever it is. He has a plan. This what he shows Sgaeyl, I believe, and what Vi and Tairn have to agree on. It involves stealing the dragon eggs, killing the elders and/or the other dragons (save me third re-read of this damn scene, save me) and getting the hell out. @maethologies told me privately that the very act of going on the Quest means Xaden has hope for a "cure", just like Violet said he still had hope if he was trying to get Brennan to mend him. I think this is the Second Krovlan Uprising tie in: trade the dragon eggs (side note: why are there 7? did Andarna steal an egg and bring it back ????) and get allies against the venin (and eventually Navarre) (and perhaps do other cure-related tasks, idk). I also personally think Xaden's going to find more answers for Violet about her connection with Dunne. A huge theme of this book was that (explicitly) Xaden and Andarna don't know who they are, but Violet doesn't really know either. She spends book 3 helping them, and in book 4, I think they help her. Basically, he returns to the isles for quest part 2! Also, I think bringing 3 riders with him is a clear sign he's not just dipping. I'm hoping my second re-read helps me finalize who the hell he brought with him besides Garrick, but if they go to the isles like I'm thinking, my moneys on Dain or Aaric for the language translation (both of whom love Violet). I have a variety of other quest nonsense to share in the other ask, but the gist of it is that he is moving with a purpose! And his purpose is Violet! Because he's in love with her!

5. Meta This is where I get a LITTLE messy. I don't know if everyone reading this saw my 2024 reading wrap up, but I have read the vast majority of RY's catalog, and I consider myself to be very familiar with the themes she likes to write, and the situations she likes to return to, over and over again. A HUGE focus for her is the war in Afghanistan. She's been obsessed with that for ten years, which makes complete sense given who she is and her lived experiences. If you happen to not be super familiar with Rebecca as a person, her husband was in the military for a very long time, and her primary sub-genre is military romance. I don't know if this carries over internationally, but in the United States, marrying your partner early on in your military career is incredibly common, because it protects them in the event of your death and while you're deployed. I was really upset about him marrying her and then immediately leaving at first, but when I thought about it, it makes complete sense for who Rebecca is and what she's gone through. I'm not trying to accuse her of self inserting or anything like that, but she clearly likes to write situations that are important to her (as do I! As do we all!) and so it makes sense to me that she'd call upon something like this for X and V. It does NOT make sense to me that she'd call upon something she went through with her husband she's still married to and then make it a break up. Will it cause tension? Obviously! But to quote Mr. Riorson himself, they're past the break up stage. (Rebecca does some silly things with foreshadowing in her books, and sometimes she says things like this to prove them wrong, and other times, she says things like this prove them right. I really think this is a "prove them right" scenario, but I'm basing that off vibes, frankly, and my knowledge of her body of work. My Rebeccca-dar, if you will.)

6. Xaden Liarson I see your point about the note, and maybe I'm deranged, but I do actually just think he's lying. I don't think he's stupid enough to think she won't come looking for him at this point. He knows her too well for that. I think the "don't come looking for me" or whatever it is is a cover up for everyone else who thinks he betrayed Tyrrendor. Also, it slows her down! I am certain she'll look for him eventually (peep her broken compass from the god of luck, anyone?), but the note + the memory wiping make it so she can't immediately go looking for him. I think that's the point of it, not that she never looks for him again.

To conclude this literal essay, I think they're still together romantically because of Riorgail's most up-to-date characterization on their own and dynamic together, as well as who Rebecca is as a writer. I actually could probably write another essay on this, and I probably will in the other ask, but if there's anything else, let me know!! I need to bleed this book out of me so I can be normal again. But even if they are "broken up", it doesn't matter long term. The five book series WILL end with them together. That's how romantasy works. Xaden isn't dying. Violet isn't dying. Everyone else is fair game, but those two are fine, LOL.

Also, you are SO welcome for fic, always. I am not a fluff girly, unfortunately. I don't really write it in general, but we'll see if I get possessed. I do have a girl dad Xaden fic in the works (in which I have to re-work their wedding....) and I have some new smut ideas I want to write sometime soon! I think that will scratch the itch for me, anyway! As I've mentioned throughout this post, my hangover cure of choice has been to dive right back into Onyx Storm again, and I honestly think that was the best idea for me. I didn't do that after Iron Flame because I thought it was somehow "bad" to do so, and then I just longed for these characters for months. But, you do you! I wanted to make a masterpost of my hangover cure recs, but we'll see if I ever get to it. If you've read this far I am personally giving you a virtual gold star.

#helena's asks!#onyx storm spoilers #onyx storm #words cannot describe how much I love yapping about this book #like iron flame is my favorite because that book wrung me out like a towel #but this ones close! this is close.#thank you for asking nonny #if anyone has anything else let me know actually i'll be honored to write another essay

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wrttenbyhan · 23 hours ago

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dear future husband..

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :

annoyed!fem reader x soon to be fiancé!han jisung

𝐚/𝐧 :

my first oneshot 🤍

“love, you're making this difficult,”

a groan lingers in the back of han's throat, although he stifles it inside for his sake.

your heels tap on the ground with a fierce pace, eyes narrowed, keeping your back turned on him.

“nessa, come on, baby,”

he hesitates to pull you back, but he decides to grab onto your purse's string, stopping you in your tracks.

“why are you like this? what'd i do?”

you spun around,

“you're late! this isn't the first time you've done this to our dates, han.”

well, how would you not be frustrated? you dolled up for hours and he shows up an hour late.

“i’m sorry, angel, something.. came up at work,”

han internally curses at himself. he got too carried away looking at rings and flowers, thinking it's only six o’ clock. how's he gonna propose when you're mad at him?

you sigh and repeat his last word out loud.

han can immediately tell from the tone of your voice that you clearly don't believe him. he hesitates to respond further, knowing damn well you'll get more annoyed.

“yeah,”

he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

“i had something to do urgently, and i got held back.”

truthfully, he wanted to ask the florist on which bouquet's the best to give to you and the jeweller on the right ring, but you don't need to know that yet.

“you say that all the time,”

you say, before tugging onto your purse so your boyfriend lets go,

“i can't believe you anymore.”

han grits his teeth at your comment. you weren’t wrong though, he does say that excuse a lot..

“i really did, i swear. we had a meeting about our latest album.”

he knows you wouldn’t believe him either way, but he tries to sound convincing. he just needed to make you believe him somehow so that you and him can go on your date and end the day on a good note before he proposed on the next day.

“but this isn't the first time this has happened.”

“i know.. i-”

han heaves a long sigh. he knows how frustrated you are, and he's frustrated at himself too. why couldn’t he have just double checked the time?

he takes a few steps closer to you, gently rubbing comforting circles around your arms.

“i’m really sorry, i didn’t mean to make you this mad..”

“are you cheating on me?”

you say, the question just spilling out of your mouth. you audibly hear han gasp,

“what?”

his mouth drops at your question, eyes widening.

“of course not! i’d never do that to you..”

he’s completely shocked that you'd even ask that. it’s the last thing he would ever do to you, cheat on you. even the thought of it just sickens him.

“then what are you doing that’s making you late all the time? because it’s not work.”

“i-”

he hesitates and internally panics. he can’t just tell you yet, he has to come up with a random excuse.

“it’s just work, i swear!”

he knows it’s a terrible excuse, but he has no choice. if he told you the real reason, it’d ruin the surprise.. and ruin his proposal for tomorrow.

“fine..”

you sigh, before dragging him along to the car. han takes your hand in his, intertwining fingers, and heads out of his apartment and into the car. he helps you into the passenger seat before hopping into the driver’s seat and starting the vehicle.

the entire car ride was pretty silent, a comfortable one though. he glances over at you from time to time. you still look mad, and he mentally curses at himself.

“han, you idiot, make her happy,”

is what he said to himself in his mind.

as he stops the car at the parking lot, he immediately unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car. he hurries around the car to open your door for you.

he helps you out of the car and shuts the door close before taking your hand in his again.

“come on.”

with that, he slowly walks beside you into the restaurant, still holding onto your hand.

as you both entered and were escorted to a table, han quietly pulls back your chair from the table before gesturing you to take a seat. he pushes the chair back closer to the table before sitting down into his own seat across from you.

he grabs the menu and looks over the options, although he’a not actually thinking of what to order. he’s too focused on your mood instead.

he sneaks a few glances at you as you scan your eyes over the menu. he’s still upset over the fact you thought he’d cheat on you. how could you even think that? he loves you more than anything in this world, and he could never, ever do that to you.

han notices you set the menu down and fold your arms across your chest, now looking out of the window. you still don’t look too happy, and it breaks his heart seeing you like that. he hates himself for messing up this date with you.

he sighs, folding his own menu and setting it beside the other. he reaches a hand out to take yours on the table, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“can you look at me?”

he asks gently,

“please.”

“hm?”

he pouts at your emotionless response, and he continues to rub your knuckles.

“please, look at me..”

he repeats, a slight desperate tone in his voice. he just wants you to look at him. you ask him why, and he only just sighs louder. that stung. he’s not expecting that response. he tries his best to keep his calm, although that comment hurt him.

he takes a deep breath and speaks.

“i want you to look at me because i hate it when you’re mad at me..”

you look anywhere but at his eyes. you end up staring at the menu, saying,

“i’m not mad at you.”

yet it was clear you were annoyed with him because you said it with sass and attitude. han raises an eyebrow at your comment, not believing you. you’re still not looking at him, and he knows you’re definitely mad.

“love, you’re definitely mad. you just won’t admit it.”

you look up at him, groaning and rolling your eyes. he almost let out a sigh of relief when you finally looked at him. the sight of your eyes made his heart skip a beat.

he holds your hand gently, intertwining his fingers with yours and rubbing circles around your knuckles.

“finally..”

he smiles, trying to act casually and hide his relief.

“there’s that pretty face of yours,”

he mutters quietly as he looks at you, staring into your eyes.

he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles,

“and there’s those beautiful eyes i love seeing..”

he looks at you expectantly, studying your expression closely. he can tell you’re still upset with him, but he doesn’t want to mention anything that might worsen the mood.

“are you.. still mad at me?”

he asks in a hesitant tone, afraid of your response. you shake your head and he grins, and you find yourself grinning back.

his heart flutters in relief and he lets out a breath as he gently massages your knuckle, feeling overjoyed that you’re no longer upset.

“good..”

he mumbles blissfully. curious, you ask him what he's going to order.

“hm?”

he glances at you, surprised by your random question.

“oh uh, i’ll just have the steak, rare.”

he answers, his thoughts elsewhere. he’s wondering how he’s gonna propose later.

“how about you?”

you hesitate, knowing that he'll probably tease you for choosing yet again,

“the pasta.”

as expected, han scoffs and chuckles, his hand squeezing yours.

“you’re getting pasta again?”

he teased you since you always ordered pasta when both of you went to a restaurant. you blush in embarrassment and nod. you then looked at the menu again, trying to see if there was anything that piqued your interest.

“i could have the fish.. or the potatoes.”

he hums, trying to picture you eating fish or potatoes.

“you know you’re gonna end up ordering pasta again.”

he comments, and he’s correct, most likely. after a good two minutes, you sigh and look up at han, who was still smirking from ear to ear.

“can.. can i just have the pasta?”

“if that’s what you really want..”

he grins, knowing you’d never ever change off the pasta.

“at least you’ll be happy with your decision.”

he lets go of one of your hands and motions for a waiter. a waiter makes his way to your table, the man smiling politely as he pulls out a pen and notepad.

han turns to the waiter and says,

“we’d like to order now.”

“i’ll have the steak, rare. and she’ll have the pasta.”

he tells the waiter.

they nod and jots down the orders, looking up at both of you.

“will that be all?”

“yes, we’re done for now,”

he replies, nodding slightly at the waiter.

they smile once again.

“your orders will be ready in a while. thank you.”

with that, the man walks away.

he turns back to you, looking at you again. he takes your hand in his again, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

“you know i’m right.”

he points out, a hint of a playful smirk crossing his features.

“you’re not gonna change your mind, because you always choose pasta.”

you giggle and tell him to shut up. but then your attention immediately goes to a man going down on one knee to his girlfriend. he watches the couple from the other table in a corner of his eye, seeing the man taking out a small velvet box and holding it out to his girlfriend. han feels slightly envious of their moment, as it’s only a matter of time before his own proposal begins.

he hums, still watching the couple in envy. He’s wondering how he’s going to pull off his own proposal later at night.

“they look happy,”

he comments quietly, still studying the couple. the man is now holding the girlfriend’s hand as he slides the ring on her finger.

“aww!”

you mumble, while the man embraces the now-engaged woman, both of them sharing a soft kiss.

han’s heart aches slightly in jealousy of the couple as he watches them. he suddenly wonders how you’ll react to his own proposal.

you whisper to han,

“she’s crying, that's so adorable!”

he nods his head in agreement with your statement, focusing on the engaged couple.

“it is cute,”

he muses, continuing to watch their moment. He looks at their happy faces and wishes for his own proposal to be a success.

“i wonder if you’ll cry too when i propose to you…”

he mumbles to himself, watching as the man helps his newly-engaged woman up from her chair and holding her in his arms.

“or maybe you won’t cry, and you’ll simply just look at me in shock.. like how you did when i first confessed to you..”

he smiles slightly at the memory of your surprised face when he confessed to you.

it was now the morning of the big day. han was going to propose to you today.

he was woken up by the sunlight streaming through the curtains. he blinks his eyes open, the sunlight slightly blinding him. he sits up in the bed, the sheets pooling around his lap. his eyes scan around the bedroom, landing on you, who was still asleep.

he takes a moment to admire you in your slumber, seeing your peaceful face and your slowly rising chest.

he then glances at the digital clock on the bedside. six am. another hour, and he’ll propose to you. he can already feel his heart rate quicken in anticipation.

he lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm down his racing heart. he looks at you once more, seeing your eyes still shut.

quietly, he slowly slips out of bed and pads across the carpet to the bathroom. he flicks on the light and closes the door softly.

he turns to the mirror, his eyes landing on his own reflection. he takes in his appearance, seeing his disheveled hair, and his slightly swollen eyes.

“you look nervous,”

he thinks to himself, trying to compose himself. he splashes cold water on his face and tries to calm down.

he grabs a towel off the rack and starts drying his face. he takes a few more breaths, taking the time to calm down from his nervousness.

he’s nervous, but he’s also excited to finally make you his fiancé and future wife.

the thought of what is to come floods into han’s mind.

“what if she says no? what if she hates the ring? what if she doesn’t want to marry me yet?”

his brain is suddenly filled with negative thoughts, and he tries to get rid of them. a cold feeling washes over him at the thought of you saying no to him.

“calm down,”

he tells himself, don’t overthink it. he glances at the mirror again, looking at his reflection once more.

he looks a little shaky and a bit pale, so he splashes his face with cold water again. he’s trying to calm down, but the thought of you rejecting him is constantly looping his mind,

“you’re just overthinking, he reassures himself, she’s not going to say no. you both already talked about getting married someday..”

he tries to stop his anxious thoughts but just the mere idea of you saying no is eating him up inside.

he lets out another shaky breath, trying to push the negative thoughts away. he forces on a small smile and tells himself everything will be okay.

“you’re going to propose, and she’s going to say yes. you’ll get engaged that night, and she’ll love the ring. it’s gonna be fine. you’ve been together for years, and she’s madly in love with you..”

han slowly steps out of the bathroom, his mind still racing with thoughts.

he approaches the bed and sits on the edge, looking at your sleeping form once again.

“babe,”

he calls out quietly, gently shaking your shoulder. he continues gently shaking your shoulder, trying to wake you up.

“babe..”

he repeats, his voice soft so he doesn’t startle you. your eyes flutter open and you sit up, rubbing your eyes and squinting. han couldn't help but smile at how adorable you were, your messy hair all over the place and how you struggled to get up.

“morning, love,”

he says gently.

“sorry to wake you,”

he apologizes as his words register in your sleepy head. you smile tiredly and puckered your lips at him. he chuckles and obediently pecks your lips and buried his head into your neck.

“i have a surprise for you,”

he suddenly whispers it into your ear, gently biting the crook of your neck, arms slowly wrapping around your waist. his breath feels heavy and hot.

without a word to protest, han pulls you towards the balcony, your steps following his as he guides you.

the night breeze was fresh, a little chilly. the sky was clear and a hint of the moonlight seeps into the balcony.

he slowly tugs you by the railing. you feel han behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder. he rubs your sides and you look behind yourself, seeing his beautiful face. he smiles and you ask him,

“what’s the surprise?”

“just.. stay still and just close your eyes,”

he softly kisses your cheek as he gently commands you to shut your eyes. he's being strangely careful,

“no peeking..”

he flips around so that you're facing him. he gently places your hands over your eyes and whispers,

“keep still, honey.”

he hugs you from behind for a few seconds, rubbing your hips to relax you, but mostly to relax himself.

he moves away, letting his warmth leave your body, going in front you. you can hear his ragged breathing, and a whisper. a click of his tongue.

then, you feel his presence before you. he was knelt down on one knee, facing you now.

“you can open your eyes now, angel..”

his voice was soft. your eyes were met with his, his soft brown hues staring into your soul, a smile playing in the corners of his lips. a shaky breath leaves his lips.

he's holding a small black velvet box, holding on to it anxiously. you gasp and han chuckled at your reaction, taking a shaky breath, fiddling with the box.

“i didn’t think it would take me so much courage..”

he slowly opens the box, revealing a diamond ring to you, sparkling under the moonlight.

“i..”

he can feel his heart hammering against his chest, sweat coating his skin. he can’t find the words, but he tries anyway, his eyes not leaving yours.

“i’ve been in love with you since the day i met you. i don’t ever wanna lose you. i can’t live.. and i don't want to live without you,”

he can feel nervousness bubble up within him, his body tense.

“i don’t want to be just your boyfriend anymore.. i want more..”

he gently grabs one of your hands, holding it tightly, his thumb stroking the back of it.

he takes another shaky breath in, his brown eyes locking with yours intently.

“i want to marry you…”

he lets the words hang in the air, the night suddenly falling deadly silent. it was only you and him, alone. he nervously awaits your response, breath caught within his throat, his eyes filled with desperation.

“will you.. marry me, angel?”

you find yourself choked up in tears. you sob and han was taken aback by your sudden reaction, watching a tear roll down your cheek, your hand slightly trembling within his grasp.

his eyes widen a little bit, his heart suddenly aching, as he waited for your answer. he says to himself in the back of his mind,

“please say yes..”

you stare at han on the ground for you. he looks up and you, concerned, awaiting your answer. you nod and blurt out,

“yes!”

a sigh of relief escaped his lips. a shaky breath.

a genuine smile slowly pulls its way up and takes over his features, his eyes lighting up, his lips trembling. he gingerly takes the ring out of the box and slowly slides it onto your finger.

“you’re mine..”

he whispers, his voice cracking a little. he stood up and pulled you into his chest, his arms caging you.

he could hear your cries against his chest, his hands gently tracing over your back, his chin resting on top of your head.

“you’re crying.. why are you crying, angel? every time i see you cry, i..”

he softly mumbled, his own tears stopping him from finishing the sentence. he embraces you firmly against his frame, his warmth enveloping you. you choke out,

“i’m just so happy..”

han held you a little closer, his nose nuzzling against the top of your head, his hand gently caressing your back. He lets out another shaky breath, a sigh of relief.

“so you really are mine now.. my fiancé..”

the word falling off his mouth was like honey to your ears.

#stray kids #skz #han x reader #han imagines #han jisung #hannie #han skz #skz imagines #kpop #oneshot #engagement #fluff #cute

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cosmerelists · 2 days ago

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Stormlight Characters! Navani and Raboniel are dating! How do you react?

As requested by @karlathewitch :)

[Warning: This list contains WAT spoiler jokes!]

Per the requester's, uh, request, this imagines that Raboniel lived and joined Navani post Rhythm of War. If you want more, I've done a few of these type of lists in the past! Previously: Shallan/Kaladin, Kaladin/Adolin, and Jasnah/Shallan.

Dalinar: ...

Dalinar: I could tell people that while I was off at battle, my wife left me for her toxic yuri situationship, but...

Dalinar: They would probably say, "Still better than how your last marriage ended."

Dalinar: ...And they would be right.

---

Leshwi: ...Does this human queen know what she is getting into?

Leshwi: Lady Raboniel is dangerous. Intelligent. Capable of terrible, devious long-term plans. Even I fear her.

Venli: They built a god-killing weapon together.

Leshwi: Oh, probably a good match then.

---

Jasnah: My mother is dating an immortal, highly intelligent being after they bonded over secret knowledge?

Jasnah: ...We have more in common than I realized.

---

Adolin: [Sighs, adds another checkmark to the "Kholin Family Members Can't Stop Dating Murderers and War Criminals" column]

Shallan: [Peering over his shoulder] I don't think Rlain's a murderer?

Adolin: Yeah, that's the only tick mark in the other column...

---

Ellista: Am I the only person who finds it romantic??

Ellista: The Lady of Wishes and The Voice of Lights?? Hello??

Urv: I think people take issue with the whole "taking over the tower and murdering tons of humans" thing.

Ellista: I guess those people don't read as many romance novels as we do...

---

Rlain: At this rate, humans are going to assume that all Singers are gay.

Rlain: And into humans.

Rlain: Hey, Venli--are you into any human women?

Venli: Ignoring that.

---

Venli: I have...complicated feelings about Lady Raboniel, but she did give me that scout report helping me to find the remnants of my people... So I don't mind her finding happiness...

Venli: ...

Venli: Is anyone else worried about how dangerous they're gonna be together, though? Just me?

---

Rushu: Hm, well, should be good for research, anyway!

---

Ghost Galivar: H-How DARE she!

Ghost Gavilar: I had two goals! Bond the Stormfather and become immortal!

Ghost Gavilar: FIRST she marries the guy who actually bonded the Stormfather, and NOW she's dating someone immortal???

Ghost Gavilar: I'm SORRY I said you weren't good enough for me, OKAY??

Navani: ...You know this isn't about you, right?

Ghost Gavilar: It's not???

---

Sibling: ...So, my human is dating the individual who tried to kill me, huh?

Sibling: But on the other hand, this means she's dating a Singer, rather than a human...

Sibling: ...

Sibling: I would describe my feelings as "mixed."

---

Ghost Elhokar: As sweet as it is that my mother bonded over Raboniel due to my death and the death of Raboniel's daughter...

Ghost Elhokar: Raboniel KILLED that daughter! That's a red flag, right??

Ghost Elhokar: Although them both taking down Moash together was pretty cool...

Ghost Elhokar: And it's better than my mom dating my uncle...

Ghost Elhokar: ...

Ghost Elhokar: Am I okay with this???

#cosmere #cosmerelists #wat spoilers #Navani #Raboniel

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almostfoxglove · 2 days ago

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ALI FAKHSDJGKH okay it's taken me 100 years to reblog this but I WANTED TO QUOTE SO MANY PARTS IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO NARROW THEM DOWN. holy shit. this was??? EVERYTHING. like, this is the canon I needed - redemption for what could have been with Helena and fulfillment of every delusion I've ever had about this man. it felt so true to the world of the show and to javi I'm actually announcing this as Canon. sorry folks!! I don't make the rules!!

gonna pop some favorite bits under the cut :,) AH

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

lord help me I would not survive this I am NOT god's strongest warrior I am a puddle on the FLOOR this is him holding the secretary's finger and complimenting her nail polish all over again DSDKFHJK

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

this is SO HEARTBREAKING ALI like what the FUCK oh my god. I feel like I can hear her and see her scared face and I'm going to cRY ABOUT IT

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys. “Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

sdhkfjhaskjhgfa

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

OHHHHH, to take javier pena apart with a massage!! HOW I YEAAARRRN

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

I love them so much. she's so charming and brings out the CRINKLY EYES and I would die for them both ok ANY DAY ANY TIME

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately.

this is so !!!!! JAVI. saying it without saying it, ya know? that he sees her. I'm gonna cry brb

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently. “There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

MY HEART POUNDED SO HARD AT THIS PART I DONT THINK YOU UNDERSTAND

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely. Tell me where he touched you.

*screams heard in the distance* *more wailing* *barking* *hollering*

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

THE URGENT IN THE MOMENT NOT THINKING "BABY"??? MY PERSONAL KRYPTONITE?? ALI THIS WAS AN ATTEMPT ON MY LIFE

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

oh my god the pain of this realization fucking SLAPPED ME I just!! was there!! feeling her fear!! my chest is so TIGHT the angst is so GOOD

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special. A code, a message. A lifeline.

this was such a perfect ending. hopeful and soft but also still so javi!! and I'm obsessed with it. I've read this three times, oops. AND WILL DO IT AGAIN <3 all the ways you wove in the moodboard (THEIR LITTLE CODE PHRASE AHHHHH) are so fucking perfect and seamless. ugh. so good. thank you soso much for joining the challenge and sharing this fucking masterpiece with us, WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED. you are a talent and a gem and I adore you <3

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 | Javier Pena x reader

summary | Javier's a creature of habit, a man of opportunity, and you were unlucky enough to find him when he's at his most desperate.

author's note | written for @almostfoxglove angst challenge, i really hope i did this moodboard justice ghjfkd. thank you @amanitacowboy for reassuring me while writing this behemoth + translations are at the end.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, informant!reader, set through beginning of season 3 narcos to end, angst, smut, involvement with the cali cartel, paying for info and sex, javier's a gentleman i swear, gratuitous smut, jealous!javi, protected/unprotected piv, creampies, oral (f receiving), some vague violence toward the end, happy ending

word count — 10k

The new influx of customers has been an adjustment, used to the elder regulars with orders that never changed and people who were grabbing a bite after a late night shift, it left you flustered as you reached for the pen and paper shoved into your apron, smoothing out the cloth as you approach the group of men, carrying on their conversation without a care.

“El envío llega el domingo,” It was Friday, which meant whatever was coming in would be here in a couple days—they never said what, but it was always something.

And their eyes always eat you up, hair pulled back loosely as you greet them with a smile, taking down their order as they keep their sights locked on you and commenting on the swing of your hips and the curve of your ass as you depart.

Like rabid dogs, feral and hungry.

You’ve learned to catalog their conversation, catching onto a regular pattern of when things were coming in and out, knowing that whatever nefarious business they are involved in couldn’t be good—but they tipped well and that wasn’t lost on you.

It was almost a month of daily interaction when a new customer pops in, nearing midnight as he settles into his booth quietly, thin button-up stretching over his shoulders as he removed his jacket and tossed it into the space beside him, yellow tinted sunglasses tucked into his shirt, catching the ashtray with a single finger and lighting the cigarette already settled between his lips.

You attempt to greet him, lips parting before he interrupts you, barely acknowledging your presence as he spits out the order for a coffee, black. Dickhead, you think. The pen and paper is shoved away in your pocket and you swing your hips around the counter to fulfill his order with a side of spitefulness.

When you approached again, it was with a nauseatingly sweet smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” You ask, catching his eyes briefly as they flicker up before he shakes his head, a roar of laughter and slaps coming from the booth a few feet away, perking your eyes up at the subtle information they were sharing, scooting out of the both as they slapped a bill on the table, passing by with a vicious smirk that had your blood running cold, the graze of fingertips brushing against your ass that had you biting down on the inside of your cheek to steady yourself, nearly falling into the table as they pushed by.

The stranger perks up at that, his eyes trailing over your body with the same robotic motion as them, but with an air of curiosity, like he was examining you and your reaction.

“No—no, just the coffee,” He assures you, both of you watch as the group of men climb into their shared truck, “those your regulars?”

“Unfortunately,” You let slip without thinking, “I’m sure their boss would hate to hear how loud they talk about all transfers and shipments—can’t imagine it’s anything good.”

His eyes drag to your breasts, more pointedly toward the nametag pinned in your shirt.

He speaks your name before introducing himself, “Javier,” He addresses, turning to dig into his jacket before he pulls out a leather wallet, opening it to flash off his credentials, “DEA.”

“Oh–I’m…I’m not…involved with them, if that’s what you think…” You don’t know why the revelation has your nerves shot, but the fingers that wrap around your wrist ground you.

Javier has spent weeks—not a single lead or piece of evidence to follow. You were his saving grace, a goddamn miracle. He tugs lightly, pulling your attention to him.

“How often do they come in here?”

“Uh,” You blink rapidly, trying to think, “Um—three or four times a week, usually every other day.”

He speaks your name gently, his demeanor changing as he releases his hold on your wrist before he motions for you to sit, looking around briefly to assess how busy the restaurant was.

At this hour, it was only you and him.

You slide into the booth and place your palms against the table, fiddling nervously with your fingers, watching as he puffed at the cigarette a few times before placing it in the ashtray, followed by a generous sip of his coffee.

“Everything they’ve told you,” Javier begins, pointing his finger vaguely in your direction before he points down, fingertip pressing against the table, “tell me—not a detail spared.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as your mouth opens, tongue dragging against your bottom lip as you try to access the memory stored in the back of your brain before you remember the small, mostly indecipherable notes you had been taking.

You rip the wrinkled paper from your notepad and pass it over, his brow furrowing as he attempts to decipher the information and to your surprise, he does.

Unknowingly, you had captured a loose schedule they seemed to follow when they shipped things in and out, the day trading off as weeks passed, constantly changing to throw off suspicion, but eventually things overlapped and repeated.

Quietly, Javier pulls his wallet from his pocket and tosses over a wad of bills in your direction.

You stare at it blankly, eyes dragging up to his face as he nods toward the money.

“Should cover the coffee—and a tip.”

You reach for the money, pulling it apart to count, suspicious of the amount.

Prying the bills apart you count, eyes widening as the number rises.

“Sir—uh, Javier. This is…too much.”

“Not for the information,” He clarifies, peering cautiously over his shoulder, “If I come back every week can you promise more?”

You scoff lightly, pocketing the money regardless, “I can’t promise anything—besides, it’s always the same stuff. Just when things are coming and going, nothing more.”

“Can you get more?” Javier asks curiously, an eyebrow raising as he taps the ash off the cigarette and brings it to his lips, “Like, names—anything?”

“I can try, but—”

“I’ll pay.”

Unfortunately, waitressing was a shitty job.

And you were more than willing to allow Javier to turn you into his little informant.

You nod quietly.

His order changes depending on his mood.

He never orders food, usually coffee or whiskey.

Nothing less, nothing more.

And you do dig deeper, giving in to the absurd attempts at flirting and playing it up, allowing the occasional touches that make your skin crawl, returning them with fervor. Luckily, you had a strong stomach and handled it with ease, catching the names of the four that frequented the restaurant often, curiously asking about work and life, giving them vague or fake answers for your own when they pried.

“Three are single,” You tell Javier as you slide him a glass of whiskey neat, “desperately.”

Surprisingly, he chuckles at that. You’ve never heard it before.

It’s a nice sound.

“One is married, two kids.”

You pass him a piece of paper with names and information, trading off for the cash he transfers in return, pocketing it inconspicuously. He’s never there at the same time as them, so the weight on your shoulders is lifted, but the creeping feeling of being watched stays put.

“They like it down,” You retort with a forced smile as a customer passes by with a nod, “so—up it is.”

Conversation was always easy with Javier, his charisma oozes out without even trying. It was natural for him, casually taking your hand into his during a slow shift, examining the lack of jewelry.

“Could get you a fake one, if it would help,” Javier suggests.

Unless you already had one, of course. His eyes flick up in a silent question.

“I don’t think it would matter,” You admit, “If they want something, they’re going to get it.”

The routine continues like this for a while, until eventually, it doesn’t.

A new group of men come in one Friday, the other, and another, throwing you off kilter.

They started rotating them, keeping you on edge as the information is becoming harder to obtain despite your attempts to dig and frustrations arise in Javier, but never with you.

Sometimes they don’t even speak at all, hushed tones at the table unless you’re needed—but, occasionally they get messy. It’s usually the younger guys, inexperienced, fresh-faced, eager to please the big boss but riding on an uncapped power high.

One of the men gets particularly ostentatious, always coming in on a drunken stupor and slurred words, eyeing you like a piece of meat that he was eager to sink his teeth into. He slips you his number more than once, ignores your polite attempts at a subject change when the rest of the men are hyping him up, and rarely takes your refusal into consideration.

Eventually the fear that has built in you overflows, suspicion arising when you leave work a night after Javier had long departed, a night of very little information exchange outside of casual talk—and even that was forced, understanding how frustrated Javier had become.

One of the men had stuck around, only a brief crossover as Javier had stepped into the restaurant, his eyes tracking you the entire way out before you’re pulled in by Javier’s voice ordering his drink of the night, squeezing his shoulder gently in response.

You should have known better, you should have spoken up.

Javier would’ve done something then, but instead, you convince yourself to forget about that uncomfortable feeling that crept in. You knew what would help, biding your time until Javier left for the night, ignoring how he seemed to eye you too, but with a glazed over expression of worry.

There was a car you barely noticed, swallowed up by shadows and turning on as you drove down the road when you finally clocked out, the minutes dragging before you pulled into the parking lot of the chapel you had sped towards with a weight on your chest and a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You couldn’t recall that last time you had visited, but you were desperate now more than ever.

You needed solace.

Prayer comes naturally, dedicated to begging for protection over yourself, allowing the silence of the space to consume you as soft footsteps of other patrons walked by, just raising your chin as a hand clasps over your shoulder, nearly falling to your ass as you turn to connect the owner of the hand to a body.

“Javier?” You ask quizzically, “Did you follow me?”

“No?” He looks confused, answering with full honesty.

That twisting feeling in your gut sinks further, looking around briefly.

“I can provide protection,” Javier tells you, “if you need it.”

You stay quiet, chewing gently at your bottom lip, scanning the room for familiar faces.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it? I could sense it, back at the diner.”

There was only Javier, still mostly a stranger.

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

“I spent a long time trying to take down Escobar, I find that kind of insulting, chiquita.”

He’s met with silence, understanding your need for reassurance.

“Yes, I am,” He tells you, his gaze unwavering, “I should’ve offered a protection detail to you from the jump, but I figured me being around often enough would work—did someone follow you here?”

“I don’t know, I kinda lost sight of them.”

You fall silent, staring at a crease in the denim of his jeans as you speak.

“Should I be worried?” You ask quietly, turning your body toward him, “Like—are they going to kill me?”

“They’re getting uneasy,” Javier responds vaguely, before assuring, “Not because of you.”

“I should…I should tell you,” You take a breath, “One of them invited me to a party, I have his number. I told him I would have to work some things out, but I never…”

“Was it this weekend?” Javier asks suddenly, the lines in his forehead creasing at the mention.

“Yeah—yeah, why—”

“Say yes,” Javier urges, “I’ll keep you safe.”

It was a big promise, but Javier’s pleading eyes worked like a spell.

“This is gonna cost, Javier.”

“Name your price, hermosa.”

–

Javier’s touch is white-hot, cigarette tucked between his lips as he brushes your hair behind your ear and presses the in-ear monitor inside, hiding it behind the gaudy jewelry attached to your ear and adjusts your hair back over, stepping back and raking his eyes over your frame casually, pinching the cigarette from his lips with his thumb and pointer finger as he blows the smoke out.

“It’s small enough they won’t notice but try and keep it covered,” He tells you, his free hand shoved into his front pocket as his presence fills your apartment, moving around sheepishly under his gaze, “I’ll be a few minutes away, if anything goes south I’ll get you out.”

You stumble slightly slipping on your heels, caught by his tight grip as he steadies you.

“Sorry—I’m freaking out,” You admit, looking away nervously as his grip loosens but doesn’t leave, firm around your bicep as you sleep your other foot inside the hell, “Th—thank you.”

“You smoke?” Javier asks causally as you stand.

“Not really,” You respond, “Occasionally, I guess. It’s probably more social, if I’m being honest.”

He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and offers it to you, placing it between your lips as you take a small puff without thinking or being told, an effective way to calm your nerves as you focused on the action as he points toward the cigarette, “Don’t drink or smoke anything they give you tonight,” Javier warns, “communication works both ways, I need you coherent.”

He pulls the cigarette away and places it between his own lips again.

The nicotine stings your throat and chest, giving you a noticeable distraction that calms your mind. “How do I look?” You force a tight smile, twirling on your feet as the dress clung to your curves, a soft, velvet red, “Fuckable, I hope. Otherwise I’m not getting anything out of them.”

Javier snorts at that, brow creasing at your crudeness.

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys.

“Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

“Yeah, sure,” He mumbles around the cigarette between his lips, “fuckable.”

The way the word rolls of his tongue is visceral, ignoring the pulse between your legs at the vibrato in his voice and the chuckle that follows—regardless, it helped ease your nerves.

–

It’s loud, sweaty, and overwhelming.

You thought they would choose something less…obvious.

But, it was becoming more and more clear how much of the town was under the Cali Cartel’s payroll, learning more and more information as Javier shared it with you in bits and pieces, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The idea was to mingle, drifting far enough away from your date that you might happen upon one of Javier’s more meaningful targets, not going as far as to infiltrate the heads, but someone damaging if you sunk your teeth in.

You quickly come upon the realization that most of the men are confusing you with entertainment, rather than being a guest, quickly side-stepping the hands that reach for you as you squeeze your way toward the bar, sliding into an empty seat with a breath of relief.

“They are animals,” The voice beside you speaks—belonging to a man who was scientifically handsome; oddly perfect, hair perfectly coiffed and mused into place, a perfect set of teeth hidden behind plush lips and piercing green eyes—you had memorized the face in the picture Javier had shown you, “¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?”

You almost forget he’s talking to you for a moment, staring up at him distractedly before Javier’s voice speaks softly in your ear, “Answer him, chiquita. He’ll get suspicious.”

“Oh, yes,” You answer quickly, moving in closer to converse over the roar of music and the heavy buzz of strobe lights flashing overhead, “I seem to have lost my date, though.”

“Don’t worry,” He smirks, “I will keep you company.”

It does take a few drinks and you nursing your own, but you play into the act of being a mere accessory on the mysterious man’s arm, allowing him to drag you around the club with no real path to follow, eventually ending up with a smaller group of men huddled away in a corner, standing dutiful and quiet as the men talk amongst themselves in obscure words, almost like a code.

“I can’t—I can’t hear them,” Javier’s speech is garbled, drown out by the music as you squint at the pain of the feedback in your ear, “can’t—hurry—”

Eventually, you find an opening to excuse yourself.

“Hermosa,” The voice freezes you in place, but the touch is gentle, surprisingly, “I would like to see you again, outside of here—”

You quickly ramble off the name of the diner, attempting to pull away, but not before a kiss is pressed against the front of your hand, feeling the heat burn through your skin like a brand before you’re slipping through the crowd, unable to take a deep breath until you’re outside.

You walk the distance to where Javier had parked originally, finding him buried deep in a conversation with someone who had pulled up in another car, hands curled around the driver’s side window, his head turning as he heard the distinct click of your heels.

“Fuck,” He curses, approaching you with his hands hovering around you—not touch or prodding, almost hesitant to cross that boundary unless it was absolutely needed, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” You answer confused, nose scrunching up as you peered around him at the unknown agent, his window rolling up before he drove off, “what’s that about?”

“We think someone might have jammed the comms—there’s no way to know, it could have been the club itself, one of the agents is going to look into it—”

“Can you drive me home?” You interrupt suddenly, rubbing at the spot on your hand that the man had kissed, feeling dirty, “I’m full up on being felt up tonight and I want to change.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Javier replies after a moment of hesitation, “let’s go.”

You rip the device from your ear the moment the passenger door closes.

–

Javier places your heels against the floor as you walk barefoot into your apartment, a simple but kind gesture as your belongings scattered against your kitchen counter, fingers dragging through the front of your hair and back as you smeared your makeup in the process.

“Oh, the uh—the code,” You remember suddenly, “something about a bridge, as the sun rises…something with water. The guy, the picture you showed me. He approached the four you told me were important. I don’t think they liked me being there, but I also think they assumed I was too ignorant to remember a few words.”

Javier pauses, hands digging into his hips as he paces near your door.

“Do you want a beer?” You ask curiously, the furrow in his brow sinking deep as he attempts to decipher the code, he nods silently.

You figured with the information bestowed he would leave, but instead he stays, sipping at his beer for over an hour as you watch him move, his brain working things out in real time.

He’s beside you know, hands pressed into the counter as he pushed his body away, staring down at his feet as he repeated the words aloud, but quietly, like a murmur.

“Are you sure they aren’t distributing right under your nose?”

Javier’s head tilts to the side as he looks at you, confused by your analogy.

You stare out your window for a moment, curtains pushed open, the gray luminescence of the moon illuminating the inky night sky, “I mean, they’re obviously paying people off, always partying at clubs—wait, the bridge and water,” A thought pops into your head, grabbing Javier by the hand before you’re pulling him to your apartment window, “what if they’re meeting on boats? I mean, not to say that’s how it’s getting it in, but—”

“That…makes sense,” Javier says, void of any distinct emotion as he takes a long chug of his beer before placing it on the ledge of the window, rubbing at the shoulder of his opposite arm.

“Annoyed you didn’t think about it first?” You tease, turning to tilt your head at him like he had earlier.

“Hadn’t gotten that far yet, we’re still trying to put the pieces together,” He grimaces at the tightened muscles, rolling his neck as his hands settle back against his hips, “that’ll help, though.”

“Sit down,” You urge him, pointing toward your couch and Javier looks at you with dull amusement before you’re urging him again with your insistent finger, eventually he relents.

Immediately, you round the back of the couch and allow your fingers to dig into his shoulder, working out the soreness with deft fingers, “Shit—you don’t have to,” Javier begins to protest before your hand is curling around the back of his head and pushing it forward, molding him to how you needed him positioned as your fingers dig in deep, “that’s, fuck, that’s…shit, right there.”

His voice is pure erotica, but it makes your lips curl in amusement. It was that pathetic desperation you heard so often from the men you served daily—that slight pitch to their tone as they tried to grab your attention, but with Javier, he’s completely detached.

His hands were tucked between his legs, head resting forward as you dug in with a strong, pointed touch, his groan reverberating down his spine.

“Oh, come on,” You tease, “I was just getting started.”

Javier shakes his head and stifles the laughter in his chest, resting against your couch as his hands circle the beer in his grasp, looking up at your face, tilted down toward his own as your fingers curl around the back of the couch, straps slipping down your shoulders in your relaxed state.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Javier checks, given you’ve had a proper amount of time to wind down from the adrenaline of being inside the club surrounded by dealers and potential kingpins.

He’s worried. He barely knows you and he’s still worried.

“It’s a rush,” You admit candidly, “But, I’m pretty resilient, Javier. Work is work. I’ve dealt with worse assholes on the job, I’m good at putting on a face when I need to.”

“What about now?” Javier asks curiously, eyes exploring your morphing expression of amusement to bashfulness, the way he’s staring at you outright, words unspoken.

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

He doesn’t like the way this job winds him up, the tension taught in his spine and unrelenting, staring up at you with a tinge of a buzz from the alcohol and the sight of your sloping breasts spilling out of your dress.

He’s used to driving miles and miles for peace of mind and a nice body to sink into, but you’re here, you’re smiling at him and he’d be damned to refuse the opportunity you’re presenting to him, leaning down as his hand comes up without thinking, twisting in your hair as his head turns to meet yours at the same angle, placing his beer down in the same instance.

“The fucking worst,” He echoes, his hands crawling up the edge of your dress as you climb over the couch with his guidance, speaking through rushed exchanges of lips, his hot, beer-tainted breath against your skin as he situates the dress up at your hips, straddling him without a second thought, “you were right about the dress—”

“Fuckable,” You both agree in unison, sighing audibly at the kiss he places to your chin, neck, shoving his face between the valley of your breasts as you work silently at his jeans, the clang of his buckle, metal against metal as you loosen it enough to free his straining cock, his breath catching as you wrap your fingers around the velvety skin of his shaft.

“M-My wallet,” He chokes out, muffled as your tongue dips into his mouth, stop briefly to savor the touch as his hands cups your face, eventually drifting into your hair in a similar manner to earlier but then he’s tugging, “got—got a condom.”

“Of course you do,” You snort in merriment, “is that—is that what we’re doing?”

Javier nods eagerly, never separating more than a millimeter from your lips as you stare at him, his eyes staring right back, searching your expression for any minute twitch of deception.

When Javier fits himself inside of you it is with a broken grunt, a curse under his breath, and a hand squeezing tight at your hip, fingers digging into the bunched up cloth as he wraps his opposite arm around your back, pulling you toward him with a sharp snap of his hips.

You gasp, falling over the back of the couch as your hands grasped at the surface in desperation, the start of a quick but all consuming pace of his hips, his lips mouthing at your skin; arms, fingers, even over your ribs, biting gently through the velvety fabric of your dress, stifling his shaky moans, attempting to avoid the glaringly obvious fact that he hasn’t been able to release his stress like this in weeks.

A willing participant, a body, convenience.

Deep down, you know.

But, you found yourself in the same mix of issues.

Regardless, you both ignore it.

–

Javier is gone by morning—or, what is left of it.

The exhaustion of the night and the sex catching up to you, coming undone on his cock as he gripped your ass, feeling the bruises he’d left in the process and remembering the soft, filthy words of encouragement he had whispered against your skin as you came.

He even locked your apartment and slipped the key under the crack in the door, stumbling toward the glinting gold piece on the ground and the folded up note on the ground, eyebrow creasing at the sight as you kneel to the ground, adjusting your dress hastily. You squint to read the hastily written note.

Got a lead. Money is for last night.

You peel the paper open and spot the money inside, eyes widening as you slowly realize that this was far more than he’s given you before, nearly double the first time, slowly you fold the paper back over and check the back, inspecting the item as a whole before you notice the writing on the back.

We should do it again sometime, chiquita.

You look up at the door slowly, at the cash, before peering over your shoulder at the couch, still indented with sleep and a blanket strewn carelessly over the cushions.

He paid you for sex. He’d made it transactional.

There’s a brief moment where you’re stricken with offense, half the mind to track him down and chew him out, but you remember how your exchange started and ultimately how it would end.

Plus, it was half your rent paid for from the result of the type of sex you haven’t allowed yourself to have in far too long, disconnected from feeling and fully freeing.

Besides, it must be a regular thing for Javier and you couldn’t even blame him.

He was only doing his job.

–

A protection detail does work for a brief time, at least, it eases some of your worry.

It was a younger agent, Javier had told you, little to no responsibility outside of keeping his eyes on you and reporting back when necessary. As some of the leads start to blossom, Javier appears less and less, but still follows through on his payments when you have information to exchange, even if it’s only a name or time of day for something.

You do find the boldness to ask him about the money he’d forked over for sex, flowing lightly into conversation as he gives you a recount of his time with Escobar after a night of curiosity and lacking customers drags you into the booth beside him.

Always taking careful note of any personal tidbits he would offer. You knew he wasn’t married or that, at the very least, he was an expert at hiding it. No kids, no spouse, no baggage.

“Is it hush money?” You ask bravely, counting through your tips for the night as he sips gingerly at the glass half full of whiskey, “Because if so, I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyways.”

His brow creases, confused for a brief second before you mouth the words.

My couch, the sex.

“Didn’t want things getting confusing,” Javier admits, “If it’s any consolation, the sex was good.”

“You’re too complicated for me anyways,” You snort softly, separating the bills accordingly as you glance over at him briefly, a soft hum in his throat as his lips wrap around the edge of his glass as he downs the rest of the liquor, “Was it a one time thing?”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Javier admits, “figured I should draw the line early—you aren’t offended are you? Because if you need me to remind you how good it—”

As you finish, dragging the money into one pile, you shrug, “I’m off in thirty.”

The sway of your hips as you exit the booth and head toward the back of the restaurant is enough to have Javier suffering half-hard in his jeans, legs widening as he inconspicuously rubs his palm over the denim to adjust himself, awaiting the small nod of your head around the corner that comes half an hour later.

–

Javier is efficient, you learn.

What first starts off as a casual trade turns into pure, unrestrained stress relief.

It bleeds into work for both of you, finding time to drag him off into the back office when you knew it was available, fucking over the desk with any empty kitchen and diner as the hours waned into the early morning and everyone was either on break or asleep.

You never offer up much about yourself, very little about your life before moving to Colombia or why you’ve stuck around for so long—but he does know you’re disconnected from your family almost entirely, completely alone.

He has a huge family back in Laredo, people that clearly care about him, catching him on the phone with his father one night as they bickered lightheartedly, something about Javier needing to find time to vacation sooner rather than later.

When you have sex at your apartment, he always smokes afterwards, whether in your bed or by the open window in your living room, always careful about the barrier of clothing that remains, never entirely naked in front of one another.

He doesn’t look at you either, won’t kiss you further than something quick—a wet, sloppy exchange of tongues as he fucks into you from behind, pulled back tight to his chest as his hand strains and squeezes around your neck to turn your head toward him.

And he never stays, doesn’t stay hung up on goodbyes.

He waits until you’re asleep, places the money at your bedside, and leaves.

But, there is a moment when you hear the tone in his voice switch, almost offended.

You’re both naked from the waist down and he’s thrusting into you lazily as his lips latch onto the section where your neck meets your shoulder, recounting the details that you’ve learned today, easily killing two birds with one stone.

He mentioned something earlier that night about a bust gone wrong, chewing frustratedly at his bottom lip as he spoke more with his eyes than his words before you had dragged him toward the back.

“Benny offered to take me on a date,” You address lightly, voice hitched as Javier used his palm against the inside of your thigh to spread it wider before it curls around the back of your knee and pulls up high over his lip, “he bought me an outfit and everything.”

He racks through the catalog of names in his brain.

Benny. Benny…Benito?

He wasn’t aware he’d spoked the name out loud until you’re responding with a soft acknowledgement as the desk bangs against the wall, your hand flattening out behind you for support, “Yes—same thing. I’m sure it’s for the—”

“The gala, yeah.”

He had spent the past few weeks trying to approach a way to get inside, knowing that this would be an opportunity to track the ever-expanding tree of sellers and suppliers, a front for the obvious drug trade that was happening, as you phrased it, right under his nose.

The boat lead had only gotten them so far, knowing that there was much more nefarious shit going on that he was grasping at straws to collect off of, using you as his main source of information.

He knows it’s dangerous, but damn were you good at it.

“When did that c—come up?” Javier asks, grunting into your neck as his orgasm creeped in, his fingers drifting expertly over your clit as they had a dozen times before.

“Couple weeks ago,” You reply casually, both you falling into your eventual orgasms and only hearing him speak as he’s already disposed of his condom and was buttoning his jeans up.

“When were you gonna tell me that?”

It feels like a heavy weight on your chest, the clear betrayal in his voice coming from absolutely nowhere, immediately forcing you into defense mode as you sneer at him, adjusting your top back into your jeans as you tie your apron around your waist.

“I’m telling you now,” You retort, “I wasn’t even sure he dropped the clothes off here yesterday.”

It couldn’t have been that crucial of a detail, given that the gala wasn’t happening for another week according to the information that had been figured out.

Javier looks stiff suddenly, shoving his wallet into his back pocket before your hand is twisting around his bicep and shoving him back until he faces you.

“Is there something you need to say?” Your eyebrows raise slightly, expectant of the harsh words that were bound to be slung your way.

“I’m paying for information—honesty, too.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also paying to have sex with me.”

Javier isn’t sure why he feels it—it isn’t jealousy, necessarily. Just betrayal, that over the last few months you didn’t feel comfortable enough to share the information with him immediately, weary of the temptations of the cartel and the idea that they could pull you in, flip you against him.

He worries for your safety and well-being, knowing that he would be the one living with that guilt if anything happened to you. You were a friend at the very least, something few and far between for Javier after Steve had left. If he wasn’t at work or his own apartment, he was with you.

Javier forces a breath through his nose and huffs, eyes flicking toward you intensely.

“It’s important to know this shit, so we can prepare.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, alright? It’s not like I’m keeping secrets. I’m sure you could do your research on me if you wanted, if you haven’t already. I have nothing to hide and nothing to gain, Javier.”

His shoulders relax slightly, widening as he puffs his chest out and takes a breath, “Yeah, but they have plenty to gain from you—we have to stay ahead.”

Always one step ahead.

–

The gala comes and goes without much preamble—and you know you’re serving as mostly arm candy, dressed scantily as you hand on the arm of a man you barely know, paraded around as a prize he’s won and showing off to his friends, but he’s surprisingly respectful.

Or, biding his time. You couldn’t tell.

You don’t force off his small advances, a gentle touch or something too close for comfort as he lips pressing against the shell of your ear, whispering something you don’t pay much attention to as you survey the event, spotting a flurry of faces familiar and unfamiliar, picking up on names and information as it arises.

Javier could still hear everything on his end with the small, nearly invisible communication device shoved into your ear, hidden underneath your hair similar to last time, careful of which side you allowed Benny on.

“My boss is sending us on vacation soon,” You didn’t pay much attention, but Javier was, “could be fun, if you wanted to go—I could talk to him, he’d like you.”

Perfect. Useful. You can already hear the words that would float around if the opportunity arises. You prayed it would never get that far.

“Change the subject,” Javier says tensely, knowing you were traversing into dangerous territory.

“I’m sure your boss won’t mind, I’ll talk to him, too,” You can feel the smirk over your shoulder before you turn, wondering if he had ever met the owner of the diner or he was purely assuming, regardless, you laugh it off quietly.

“I have to stick around and keep things going, they wouldn’t survive without me,” You switch gears easily, “I don’t see you often, just your friends—why don’t you come around more?”

He’s only appeared a couple times and both were brief, first to ask you to the gala and then to give you the dress, almost like he’d rather avoid the place entirely. You were careful of giving him any personal information outside of where you worked, knowing that it wasn’t already accessible information.

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t think it’s about what I want, is it?” You retort playfully, a smirk growing on his face as his thumb slides over your chin, careful how deep of a jab you make, “It’s up to you.”

Benito’s hand rubs over the back of your dress and down, fingers modeling against the loose wrinkles in the fabric as he moves over the curve of your ass and squeezes, a small squeak escaping your lips as you bite down at the inside of your cheek, ignoring the knee-jerk reaction to elbow him in the stomach.

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately.

The next hour drags painstakingly slowly, but eventually Benito drops you off at the diner at your insistent request, despite his pressuring you to invite him back to your apartment.

When you step into the threshold of your living room, Javier is already opening up the dinner had ordered at your subtle request earlier that evening, a smug smile on his face as you shake your head in exhaustion, sleeping over you hills in and instant and half-way stripping out of your dress before you even make it to your bedroom.

Javier grins in amusement as you thrust the device that you rip out of your ear into his chest, quietly tucking it away on the table as he prepares the food.

You’re dressed for comfort when you return, a shirt reaching beyond your thighs as you settle the bare skin against the barstool, underwear peeking out as you sit, immediately shoveling the food into your mouth.

You ramble out the names you caught onto, watching as Javier scribbled them down, rubbing at your temples to soothe the growing headache as you finish up your food and shove it aside, eventually slumping against the counter as you groan weakly.

You can feel Javier’s hand graze your knee, squeezing gently at your thigh, a silent invitation.

“I’m so tired, Javi,” You admit, “You can keep your cash, don’t worry. The whole thing was a bust, anyways.”

The chair creaks as Javier leans toward you, whispering against your ear, “Ven aqui,” He beckons as he pulls at your arm, guiding you silently to your room, half-expecting him to tuck you into bed and leave, but then he’s guiding you backwards toward the mattress and spreading out between your legs on the duvet as he removes your underwear, your lips forming into a subtle pout until he’s splitting you open with his tongue, a gasp escaping at the sudden sensation, fingers twisting into his hair roughly.

“Javi, what are you doing?” You inquire—it was new, a careful line drawn between you both earlier on that it was strictly sex, disconnection, but now he was trying to leave the impression of his tongue against your cunt as he devoured you all at once, squeezing at your thighs to spread them open further, a sated expression on his face that had to be a mix of his own exhaustion, delirious with want.

“There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,” You squeeze down tightly as your eyes fall shut, his mouth sucking over your clit as your back arches off the bed.

You come faster than you expect and had you known his mouth was so talented, you would have suggested this earlier, but through the waning of your orgasm you feel his tongue drifting over your skin in the wake of his previous touches, lapping at the salty skin before his tongue eventually finds the way toward your breast, swirling around the sensitive skin as your nipple hardens against his mouth, innately curious of his actions but not voicing them.

There was never any predicting with Javier, figuring that maybe he needed a little more distraction tonight, but as your orgasm dissipates and the hand in his hair stays, he never moves, only a low rumble to his breathing as you attempt to catch your own breath before you’re slowly leaning up and realizing his eyes were shut and he had fallen asleep.

Whatever was ailing him had finally taken hold, able to squirm away through his heavy sleep before you’re draping a blanket over his frame, still dressed from the day.

You can’t find the courage inside yourself to disturb him as he took up half of your bed, opting for the couch in the off-chance he woke up in the middle of the night to you beside him, stirring up another list of issues you didn’t feel like dealing with.

–

Surprisingly, you wake before him. The sky barely fading out of night as you stir, rising from the couch as the bulky phone on the counter—it was Javier’s, you knew that.

But still, you answer it. It couldn’t hurt, just tell them to leave a message.

Instead, as you hear the familiar voice on the other end, you find yourself pulled into an unsuspecting conversation with his father that drags into the morning hours as the sun rises, meandering over breakfast before you here him stirring in the other room, trying to ignore how pleasant but telling the conversation with Javier’s father was as you place the phone down on the counter and begin cooking breakfast, silently, still half-dressed in the clothes from the night prior, minus your underwear strewn somewhere on your bedroom floor.

He’d asked how Javier was doing when you told him your name, surprised that he was familiar with you, learning that Javier had spoken about you to him, though briefly.

Probably in passing, maybe. You try not to dwell on it.

“He seems fine,” You told him, “Busy, though.”

He’s always busy, he tells you. Cuidar a mi hijo.

He was worried, rightfully so. But, Javier was an adult, his own person.

He wasn’t your responsibility and you weren’t his.

And you try to ignore the strange sensation in your chest at the immediate elation from his father hearing your name, like an old family friend hearing from you for the first time in years, even though you knew very little of his father.

You’ve learned enough about Javier, at least. His likes and dislikes, vague interests that he commented on, the grimace in his face that would grow deeper the harder he got stuck on something, a thought or idea.

Javier clears his throat as he enters the kitchen, avoiding your gaze as you slide the meat and eggs onto two separate plates before passing it to him.

“You could have woke me up,” He said, looking up at you briefly with mused hair, his shirt wrinkled from sleep.

“Your father called,” You ignored his comment, “you should call him back.”

“You talked to him?” Javier asks blankly, no distinct emotion shining through.

“For, like, half a second,” You lie, “I just told him you were asleep.”

He didn’t need to know his father’s worry or how much he’d given away about what he knew of you, secrets that were obviously meant to be kept between them, but as Javier chews with thought, eager to break the lingering silence, he asks.

“He mentioned it, didn’t he?”

You shrug your shoulders cluelessly, “I think you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“That I’ve talked about you, or at least, he knows who you are.”

“It’s none of my business, really.”

“He hears you, at the diner—he’s nosey. I’ve mentioned you in passing. I just…I know how he gets, I don’t want you thinking anything is going on,”

“I’m not paid to think, Javier,” You tell him.

It’s disparaging, his nose scrunching up slightly at your words and the emptiness with which you throw them. This is where he always seemed to fuck up, distinguishing work from his life but somehow maintaining the balance of peace and humanity.

Do you want to explain last night? You mind screamed, but instead you offer him his coffee, the usual black with minimal or no sugar, giving him the option as you slide the mug and container in his direction. He fishes blindly for his wallet but your hand stops him.

You sigh, “That’s not—I wasn’t implying you need to now. I—I just think we should maybe reframe what we’re doing, given that things have…progressed,” The word lingers on your tongue while you bite at your bottom lip. “I’m worried they might find out where I live or about you—or the fact that I’m literally helping the DEA catch them and praying can only do so much and I’m here alone—”

“Hermosa, slow down,” Javier urges, shoving his wallet back into his pocket at your guidance and avoiding the obvious domesticity of having slept overnight in your apartment and ate the breakfast you cooked him.

It was in his nature to care, to a degree. It was his downfall sometimes, to a devastating fault. He striked while you were vulnerable and roped you into his own mess, now paying for it with guilt that had seeped into his personal life, spending the entire night prior picturing how Benito was handling you, how he could step in—how it could have been him instead.

“She doesn’t sound like work,” His father had told him a week ago, returning a flirtatious quip as you had passed him his usual coffee and offered him a light for his cigarette after his hadn’t worked, that sort of boyish tone in his voice that his father picked up on in a second.

The lines had blurred with Helena after a while, a similar circumstance that he continued to find himself in—paying for info, paying for sex, attempting to make it impersonal. But, here you were, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, and he didn’t know how to fix the mess he had made.

He couldn’t see you hurt or send you into danger like he had with Helena, the helpness he’d felt as he discovered her near lifeless body, covered in blood and bruises after she had been beaten and traded around—it couldn’t happen, it wouldn’t.

–

Javier returns with a phone later that day, similar to his with his number attached to a piece of paper he shoves into your hand as he directs you to pack a bag in the case of an actual emergency, something quick to grab that you wouldn’t have to second guess about.

“You’re making it seem like I should be leaving now,” You tell him, taking the items he passes into your hand as you fold a stack of clothes and toiletries into the bag.

Javier shakes his head, “It’s better be safe,” He explains, “I…doubt—I don’t think they would be. We have someone listening around the clock, people on the inside, there haven't been any red flags.”

“What if something does? What if I can’t reach you?”

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” He tells you simply, your face contorting in confusion. “It’s a code—a phrase only you and I know. If you use that, it means danger. Through a note, or that phone. I just have to hear it.”

You zip the bag up in silence, feeling the weight of the web you had tangled yourself in finally settling, curious if you would be back at square one, fleeing to a different country to escape your problems.

You nod, a subtle motion but Javier sees it.

“Javier, we should talk,” You echo once more, though with different meaning, “about last night.”

“I’ll still pay, hermosa—that isn’t a problem.”

You could handle the way it was eating at you.

“No, I mean—I mean why did last night happen? Why is your dad telling me to keep you safe?”

His face hardens at the mention of his father.

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely.

Tell me where he touched you.

“You started this, you know?” You remind him, “You made this transactional.”

Was he scared of you?

Eerily silent he remains, you speak for him.

“I’m not a whore either, so if that is how you view me—I really don’t want your help at all.”

The keys in hand are gripped tight as you chance a glance toward the floor, his body entirely unmoving, his eyes downturned and staring in a similar direction, almost like he couldn’t find the words.

I”m not asking you to give a shit about me, but—”

His answer is a kiss, searing and intense, keys tossed to your bed as his fingers dive into your hair, curling around your head as you make a sound of surprise, steadying yourself as you grip his biceps and stumble backwards, tripping over the dress you had stripped yourself of last night.

You still hadn’t dressed from earlier, his hands flattening against your hips as he molds the soft flesh under his grip, his teething biting into your bottom lip as he murmurs, “Belt, get my belt,” without question, your fingers go to work, ripping the leather away in a practiced motion as you continue to unbutton his jeans, “—think I don’t give a shit, are you fucking insane?”

“A little,” You jest, “I mean—I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

This felt strangely vulnerable, his fingers pulling at your shirt with a deliberate endgame.

Naked in the natural lighting of your room, his fingers reaching for his own shirt as you work his jeans down his hips, appreciating his tanned skin as it shines with a thin layer of sweat. Despite the sticky heat that permeated throughout your apartment, his touch is cooling, comforting even.

“Another freebie?” You tease him further, hearing him snort as he reaches for his wallet and crowded you on the mattress, opening the tight leather before he grabs a wad of cash and shoves it into the sheets before tossing his wallet aside and diving between your breasts.

“Making me a poor man,” Javier retorts, peeking up through your tits as he squeezed them in his grip, mouthing delicately along the skin, “shit—but this, s’fuckin’ priceless.”

“I’m—fuck, I’m kidding, Javier. I don’t want your money. Never wanted it.”

It had always been about convenience, never expecting things to end up like this.

It was a mess, both of you were.

He’s seeing all of you, for once, and you him.

And you know he needs, wants, without saying.

He fucks you slow, legs hitched around his hips as buries his head into the space beside yours, only rising as your noises grow with intensity, the bluntness of your nails digging into his skin.

“Inside,” You beg, “inside of me, Javi.”

He moans pathetically, lips squished against your cheek as his hips falter.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Can I?”

You giggle airly at his question, nodding fervently.

“Mierda,” He curses brokenly, groaning softly into your skin as he pumps himself inside of you, the warmth of his cum filling you to the brim, oozing out as his hips slow, his hands kneading into your skin as he rests, breathing rapidly against your chest.

“We should—should talk, Javier.” You tell him again, after a moment of silence. “Like, really talk—you know?”

Javier hums in acknowledgment, “Tonight—give me until tonight, okay?”

Tonight was good enough, for now.

–

The first thing you feel when you rouse from sleep is pain.

White-hot and persistent, restrained by your hand as they’re tucked behind your back. You feel more hands, the sound of stiff leather and the smell, overwhelming as it invades your senses.

“I see why he keeps you around,” The voice comes from behind, eyes bleary as you blink before the hand in your hair grips tight, only catching the fist coming at you from your peripheral before your world goes dark.

When you wake again, you’re upright and in a chair, head slung back uncomfortable as you attempt to stretch, feeling heavy and groggy as you move, remembering the moment from earlier you become alert within seconds, eyes searching around frantically as you spot two men.

They were strangers, faces covered, but obviously sent here for a reason.

“Benny thought he could get it out of you,” The man says dismissively, “you foreigners—stupid, messy, predictable.” He grabs the fabric of your dress and plucks the small, miniscule device from the fabric that you missed, squinting to see it before the man breaks it between two fingers and tosses the dirtied fabric aside.

“We got her to ourselves, plenty of time to—”

“No,” The other man replies sternly to the obvious subservient man, “her boss—that’s what we came here for.”

“My boss?” You croak eventually, “At the diner? What do you want with—”

The gun he pulls from his back silences you in an instant. He reaches for the phone on the counter, the yellow sticky note still attached, “That him?”

“It’s mine,” You reply with ease, “I’m forgetful and—”

Your throat swells as he ignores you, dialing the number.

You hadn’t let the reality of the situation settle until you heard Javier’s voice on the other end, careful to not give anything away as his voice comes across more energetic than usual. They didn’t seem upset at the lie, but the finger on the trigger squeezed slightly as his voice came through, a silent order to play along.

“Hola, chiquita,” Javier greets smoothly, “¿Todo bien?”

You laugh softly, “Yes—yeah.”

You know what they want, what they need.

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” You beg, voice unwavering as you stare the two men down, both of them seeming satisfied by your ploy to get Javier to the apartment without much argument.

The line falls dead without a response, the phone tosses aside to the floor as it shatters into pieces.

Unfortunately, they weren’t going to get it easily.

–

You wished you could warn him.

One wrong move and the blade at your throat, the gun to your head—they would be your undoing.

You stared blankly at the broken lock and hinge of your door, footsteps approaching as you whimpered, the sharpness of the knife pressing against your skin as Javier whips around the corner and into the apartment.

The white-hot pain returns as you’re met with the butt of the gun, slumping from the chair as chaos whirls around you, curled up on the floor and crawling desperately away from danger as someone screams, gargling as it sounds, probably on their own blood.

You couldn’t look back, breathing panickedly as you hid behind the couch and huddled in on yourself, a gun going off unexpectedly as your ears ring, gasping as you hear the sound of a blade puncturing skin once, twice, before it clamers to the floor.

You wait a moment, although it feels like eternity, expecting the cold press of a gun against the back of your skull, but instead it was a hand and eventually another, the faint smell of a familiar cologne that brought you comfort and warmth.

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

Out?

You look up, his eyes wild but lacking any indicators of violence.

“It isn’t safe here.” He reiterates, “Can you walk?”

You nod weakly, feeling his hand wrap around your waist as he assists you in rising to your feet, still discombobulated and wobbly, he sticks by your side as you grab your things, silent as he eventually, alongside the crowd of presumably agents and police that pass by, invading your apartment, Javier is a guiding light of reassurance before you’re barricaded in the safety of his car.

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

You blink, feeling the sting of tears as you look up at Javier.

“Things are getting worse. It isn’t safe for you here, not anymore.”

“Here? What—what do you mean?”

–

Here meant Colombia.

Which is how you ended up in Texas two weeks later. Laredo to be specific.

Javier had a place close to home. His family.

And you had talked extensively, it was the only thing that kept the panic from consuming you that night as he drove you to the embassy, tying up some loose ends before he drove you to the airport without any explanation until he was shoving the ticket into your hand.

His father had been waiting for you, as somber in expression as his son.

They were so similar it made your heart swell, an unfamiliar feeling.

Javier couldn’t explain what he was feeling for you and you could accept that, but he was careful and adamant in the idea that you would spend your time at his home, already setting you up with a similar job in town, a seamless transition that felt strange, but oddly easy to settle into.

“What if I just left?” You tease him one night, hearing his desk creek as he head slumps into his unoccupied hand, “Would that be easier for you?”

“No,” Javier says sternly, “I’m—this…I think I might be done. Feels like I’m fighting a battle that I’ll never win, feelings fucking pointless.”

It had been months now, curled up on his couch as you stared out the window and toward the empty road, wondering if the chill of fall was creeping in as the cool breeze hit your skin, “No more waitresses to help you out down there, huh?”

Javier snickers at that, though it was quiet.

“Stop that,” He chastises, “It’s not funny.”

You giggle in return, “I know, I know—just remember who’s keeping your bed warm every night, yeah? Oh—and your dad, he keeps asking when you’re gonna call.”

You hear him huff at that, clearing his throat awkwardly as he mumbles an apology to someone on the other end, the faint hum of the office around him feeding through the receiver.

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.”

It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special.

A code, a message. A lifeline.

Javier was barely surviving amongst the cartel as tensions had pulled taut and drug trade seemed at an all-time high, nearly unstoppable anymore.

It was beyond him, out of his control.

And for the first time in a long time, he has a reason, a want, to come home.

“Soon, chiquita. Soon.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and it worried you immensely.

“Don’t let it consume you, Javi. You’ve done enough.”

On the other end, his brow furrows. Disgruntled and annoyed at how right you were, echoing the similar sentiment his dad had told him a thousand times.

He was done, he wanted out.

"El envío llega el domingo." / The shipment arrives on Sunday.

"¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?” / How are you doing? Are you having a good time?

"Cuidar a mi hijo." / Take care of my son.

#read #bookshelf #angst fic #ficrec #fics i love #almostfoxgloveangst2 #angst challenge shelf #javier peña fic #SCREEAAAAM

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rockybloo · 3 days ago

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I feel like bitchin so I'mma bitch bc I always see people going on rants on their Tumblrs and I'm long overdue for one. Anyways, this is a long one so be aware you are gonna be scrolling for a good bit if you view under the cut.

ANYWAYS, I know that that rude anon from last week is old news but their whole "I'm sad that Glitter and Guilt is a m/f relationship" thing is just a part of a never ending situation I am going to experience til the end of time (or til I stop posting stuff online) just because I focus on primarily m/f relationships in my art.

And they aren't even straight m/f relationships, which is what annoys me the most about comments like this. They're all bisexual. But because people see bisexual characters as better than straight but less than same-sex attracted orientation, I will always have to deal with these passive aggressive ass comments.

I dealt with this typa stuff SO OFTEN in my early days on Instagram, especially when I posted some of my gender nonconforming OCs like Danny (my pink demon man who dresses like a bimbo Barbie doll). It got to the point I stopped sharing him over there for a bit because I would get comments where people were hoping he had a boyfriend in the past, or they were disappointed I "never" drew any Sapphic couples because they mistook Danny as a woman in a pic where he was kissing Karrie.

And I get the whole desire to want more representation. Trust me, I'm bi, black, and nonbinary. I am NEVER going to get any type of representation outside of the indie artists I find in small niche circles online. I completely get the whole "m/f relationships are EVERYWHERE in mainstream media" mentality because I also agree but only to a point.

There's a ton of trashy m/f media, but there's also good shit when you dig because you can find people who don't just shove a guy and girl together and call that a done deal - they actually give them personality and chemistry and a fun dynamic.

I'm a firm believer that the gender of a ship shouldn't dictate if it's good or not. An interesting dynamic is what motivates me to care about a couple of characters dating. That's why it bugs me whenever someone suggests any kind of series to me and simply tells me "It's gay" before telling me the actual plotline. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT A SERIES IS ABOUT! DO NOT WASTE MY TIME!!! (Please do not pop into my inbox after reading this and suggest me stuff btw because I've never been a big suggestions unprompted person - I typically find stuff myself bc I have weird tastes ANYWAYS BACK TO MY RANTING)

When it comes to my art, I draw m/f relationships as a primary focus because it's fun to mess with gender dynamics and flip them on their head, as well as to give younger me the food I wish I had. Growing up, before I realized I was nonbinary, I rarely saw any black girls in loving relationships in animated series I enjoyed. And occasionally I would get flash banged with the long despised trope of "Disposable Black Girlfriend". So I never felt like m/f relationships were oversaturated in my eyes because there were barely any good ones that featured a black girl with a happy ending - which means from DAY MOTHERFUCKIN ONE I was starving for content.

So that obviously means that when I grew up and adopted my "Make your own food" mentality, I started cooking. AND COOK I STILL DO! Because in the end, I make all this food to please myself. OTHERS MAY EAT OF COURSE - I am always happy when people come to my restaurant to dine because they enjoy my meals, but I hate how every blue moon I will get someone who waltzes into my little eatery and tells me that they wish I cooked the meal they get from other restaurants.

Because it would be so much more productive to just go eat AT those restaurants since they already got the food you like.

Having people comment their displeasure about me drawing a guy and a girl together in a healthy (and occasionally insane) relationship is always baffling to me. It's never going to make me stop, it'll only make me draw more Red Beans or more Licorice. It's also so baffling because I know that if the tables where flipped - and I was drawing primarily same-sex bisexual couples (OR JUST SOME GAY OR LESBIAN COUPLES IN GENERAL BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE JUST DON'T CARE ABOUT BI FOLKS AT ALL), it would be so fuckin' frowned upon to comment "I wish you drew more m/f! 🥺"

But because I draw m/f bi couples, it's totally free game. IT'S DEF STILL FROWNED UPON but one is way more likely to make you look like an asshole than the other. Because even in cases where people have said they agree it's a dick move to complain about m/f from me, there's still that vibe of it being more acceptable just because of mainstream media having so many m/f couples and that being the standard of offline society.

But I'm not mainstream media. And I disagree with a lot of standards of offline society which is WHY I poke fun at gender norms with my OCs.

That's why getting a ton of new followers is such a "oh boy here we go" thing for me, because with old followers that have been around for awhile, they know what's up. They understand what I draw, what I write, and how my OCs typically behave. They get that my m/f ships have rabies.

But new followers don't know this. And this has led to some real big "OOF" moments. Like people calling Jack and Nana a "het" couple. Yes, I know that that's a term that doesn't JUST mean "heterosexual" and can refer to them being different genders. It still feels hella weird for me - it's why m/f is my preferred descriptor because it lacks that confusion.

New followers are typically the ones that leave the passive aggressive comments about me mostly drawing m/f. OFTEN because they think I am one of those artists who will draw whatever it takes to please my audience. BUT I AM NOT - THERE IS NO AUDIENCE INFLUENCE HERE ☝🏾

I am not a taxi where I pick people up whenever they call me and I drop them off wherever they tell me.

I am a roller-coaster. Specifically those ones where you can see the entire track layout in the distance so you know what you're in for. You may sit in the front or the back or somewhere in the middle but that is the last input you got before I take off at my own speed (that will be stated RIGHT on the warning sign you read as you walked in) and once I am done, you may get off and carry along your merry way through the rest of the park OR you may get on to ride again.

This entire passive aggression towards m/f ships is just so tiring to deal with because there will never be an end to it. Even after I post this, I know days, weeks, months, YEARS down the line - someone will see some Jack and Nana art, or some Bitterbat and Sweetheart comic, or ANY of my other m/f couples, and type up some comment about how they wish the couples were same-sex. Or someone will lament over the fact they thought a couple was same-sex but it turned out the dude was just hella feminine.

Because it just ain't enough to have bisexual characters that are dating the same sex because then people will call them "straight passing" and not count them as being queer. And having all my OCs being bisexuals ain't enough to mark me as a queer artists in some eyes because "making all your OCs bi is just lazy" and not me representing an aspect of myself that I constantly see sidelined online.

Me drawing bisexual m/f couples is viewed as something that can be tinkered and tampered with so I can be more appealing and inclusive to others like I'm some mainstream Hollywood series and not just some random person online who draw the fictional beings in my mind kissing each other whenever I got the crumb of free time. Primarily drawing m/f couples means I gotta just vibe whenever I see a moot or a friend post or reblog some weird sentiment referring to how lame m/f couples are and I just gotta HOPE that they aren't including bisexuals when they engage with stuff like that.

I'm in this weird space where I am wedged between "You're not a straight artist" and "You aren't drawing enough gay stuff" online.

And I'm fine with this since I've been online for over a decade at this point. This isn't a vent post, this is a rant. I don't need cheering up or comfort after posting this. This is just some real talk because I typically post lighthearted stuff since I like to keep my blogs positive.

But I also like to keep my shit honest and I think it's important to just state a piece of my mind. I wouldn't say I'm being vulnerable, this is just some insight to why I draw what I do and why I get so annoyed by certain interactions with people and certain sentiments online that are antagonistic of m/f ships that put them all down without hearing them out.

Blah blah blah I'm tired of typing and I've said most of the main points I've needed uuuummm

If you read this long have some m/f fluff

#rocky rambles #important rocky post

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pastorfutureletthembe · 1 day ago

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I just wanted to remind everyone to manage their expectations for the next and last episode.

I don't think the Yingdu Chapter is going to wrap anything important. In the end, it was a 6h30 special episode, basically. It wasn't about Cheng Xiaoshi's original death but about Cheng Xiaoshi's parents. It introduced us to new characters important for next seasons and we know more about Lu Guang's reality. I'm sure it would be relevant later but for the time being, this season seems to be extra content more than any real breakthrough.

Because of this, maaaaybe no one is gonna die by the end of next episode? I'm as shocked and disappointed as you are lmao.

I still have expectations. Because nothing actually happened in five episodes, to be honest. But this season needs to bring more than gayness to the show.

I do hope this season is not the same timeline as s1 and s2.

I want to know what Liu Xiao wants from Cheng Xiaoshi. Or from Lu Guang. Spill the bean Mister Stalker.

I want Lu Guang to reveal an actual big secret to the audience. Give us SOMETHING dude. Stop withholding information, it's been three seasons ffs.

Are Cheng Xiaoshi's parents still alive in s2!present?

Does anyone from the evil trio have actual powers? The suspense isn't for dramatic effect, we're done playing the guessing game, that's not even funny anymore.

I don't think I'm asking for too much, really. You can't spend six months advertising characters, selling freaking merch, and I mean SEVERAL SERIES OF MERCH, and barely introduce them in the show. Come on, at least tell me the truth about who they are and what they want. That's the most basic storytelling rule.

What do you think is the last episode going to be about?

#link click #时光代理人 #shiguang dailiren #yingdu chapter #director li haoling speaking #the daily life of alice's hyperfixation

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k0nanharv3y · 1 day ago

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I WANT HIM TO BE MAD, I WANT HIM TO COLAPSE AND CRY HIS LUNGS OUT I WANT HIM TO SCREAM... I'm allergic to happiness :[ so then I should proceed

///

Tim knew how to be mean, rude and how to hurt people with his words, I mean, he was raised by Fucking Janet Drake. He knew what he was doing

And he was so done with Damian, and life, apparently

Damian who's being an asshole about his birth rights and how Drake would never be worth enough to have the Robin mantle: The only reason you're part of this family is because father couldn't let go you with what you know!

Tim, who already knows this fact and is running on half an hour of sleep and a liter of coffee only: Oh, really?! The only reason he took you in was because he had to, not because he loved you. We were a choice, you were just an obligation caused by a mistake

And then there was silence

Damian's face was red and there was a glimmer of tears in his eyes. Tim's chest rose and fell as if he had run a marathon

And a heavy folder fell to the floor of the cave, breaking the silence and about to break everything around it

Bruce, who's been listening to the discussion in silence, because he had no right to step into it because he's scared of feelings: Tim! You cannot say that! Apologize!

Tim, who is about to cry because he's so tired: Apologize?! What the hell Bruce!? He started this shit!

Damian stepped away from Tim, frowning, hurt and ready to start fighting if Tim decided to take more physical action against him

Bruce: He is a child!

Tim, feeling something inside him slowly burn: A child?!, That demon tried to kill me and that "child" is 15 years old, he can't not understand the consequences of his actions and his words, you can't-! You can't always defend him Bruce! He has to understand that-

Bruce, who has gotten too close to Tim, standing in front of him, using all his height to appear bigger than him: Of course I can!, He is my son

Tim: I am your son too!

And the silence came again, tears in Tim's eyes. A silent gasp from Bruce and the bats screeching from the screams they were both throwing at each other

Tim: This is unfair...

He muttered, taking steps away from Bruce, lowering his head, red with shame and tears

Tim: It's unfair that he... that you...! I'm your son too, why don't you love me like you love him?

Bruce: Tim, that's not-

Tim: Yes it is!, I understand-! I understood in the past that you weren't at your best, I understood that you didn't love me! I understood that, Bruce!, during my years as Robin I understood that! And I understand that you've changed, I understand that the Bruce that Damian has now is not the Bruce that I had, but it is...! It's unfair that you still don't defend me like you defend him! Not even as your son, but as your partner! It's unfair and-! Why can't you just-?! Why don't you love me, Bruce?!

The tears now had no qualms about falling like waterfalls, and the sobs made his voice sound younger than Tim was, younger than Bruce had ever heard

Bruce: I love you T-

Tim: It's not the same if I have to yell at you, Bruce! Damian gets pets, presents, TIME! And all I got for my birthday was trust issues and trauma, when I pulled you out of the timestream you didn't even-! You didn't even say anything to me! If you didn't love me, then you would have let me keep up with the uncle lie! At least then I'd know what I was getting from you and what you wanted from me!

Their ears registered the sounds of footsteps, the worried voices. But none of them gave a fuck

Tim: What you want from me now, Bruce?! Tell me! What you want from me?!

Bruce: I-

The words caught in the adult's throat, because, the kid in front of him (because Tim was a kid, because he could never grow up to be anything outside of what Bruce needed) looked so tired and nothing Bruce said was going to make up for years of feeling unloved and unwanted, just needed. And Bruce couldn't think of a time when he had ever made that thought questionable (Bruce had literally conditioned the kid to put others before himself)

Bruce: I'm sorry

And if Tim started to sob ugly and wet, that would be his problem. He was so tired to worry about it

///

Part 2 Jumpscare!!

///

#im allergic to hapiness and I told ya #tim drake centric #tim drake #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dc robin #dc comics #dcu #tim sad #sad #if this is based on a real fight i had with my adopted mother then is my problem #lol #batman #batfam #bat family

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le-fruit-de-la-passion · 8 hours ago

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Not a request but imagine Viktor debating whether or not to augment his dick because on one hand fun sexy times and on the other it's his dick shit can go wrong and he doesn't want to affect his fertility if he decides he does want kids

You know, as a fandom, I feel like we don't discuss the dick situation as much as we should... like, I've given my opinion on what's up with the Arcane Herald Penis Predicament (go read more on that in my one-shot The Prophet spoke, and the faithful knelt 👀), but I can't imagine the Machine Herald Cock Conundrum is the exact same...

Here is my hypothesis:

So, Machine Herald replaces the parts of his body that he considers weaknesses or that could be augmented with technology and machinery.

Dick and balls are pretty inconvenient from a technical standpoint, they're an easy target to incapacitate someone in a fight ((fun fact, some animals actually know this and will attack the face or the genitalia of other animals/humans to inflict the most damage)). Plus, they are a strong testament to how much the human body is controlled by emotions and impulses, so it wouldn't be that far-fetched to assume MH!Viktor would have gotten rid of them.

HOWEVER

I believe that this theory would be missing an important aspect of MH!Viktor's philosophy and identity. What he craves is an evolution of the human species through the removal of weaknesses of the flesh, such as illness. And evolution REQUIRES the continued existence of a species through time, which means reproduction is still a key aspect in his vision. It would be counterproductive for him to want to get rid of reproductive organs: they're an essential part of making sure a long-term evolution is even possible.

Additionally, MH!Viktor has been shown through various parts of his lore to be exceptionally caring about children. In that same vein, season 1 Viktor often brings back the concept of having a personal legacy...

Considering both of these factors, I'd say that, yes, MH!Viktor still has his human penis. BUT, he would also definitely get rid of the flaws I mentioned earlier.

For example, he would likely be able to at least partially regulate blood flow to his cock, in order to be in control of his own bodily reactions (ie., when he wants to be hard or not). He would also probably add some sort of protective cover or coating over it, with a flexible but resistant material that would prevent genitalia from being used as a weak spot. Almost like a permanent, metal cocksleeve.

If he was to gain a lover along the way, perhaps the sleeve could be tweaked a little, to add some bonus features. A length enhancer, or some bumpy ridges... the possibilities are truly endless. But it would all be solely for the purpose of his goal, of course, not for something as trivial as pleasure. A lot of research seems to correlate female orgasm to higher chances of pregnancy; he's only doing what has to be done to strengthen the future of the Glorious Evolution. Any additional physical enjoyment is merely a side effect, nothing more.

IN CONCLUSION, according to my professional, scientific opinion, I believe MH!Viktor would keep his human penis, but remove all its conceptual weaknesses with technology. There is simply no version of Viktor in the multiverse that doesn't make use of his big, fat cock, and that's just the way things are 😌.

#I SPENT WAY TOO MUCH TIME THINKING ABOUT THIS AHDJFNNF #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor smut #machine herald viktor #arcane viktor x reader smut #arcane viktor #viktor headcanons #my rambles #my asks #mine #im sooooo normal about him

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wlwsoccerfics · 14 hours ago

Text

This was not the plan (Lena OberdorfxSchüllerReader

Summary: you and Lena really wanted to tell Lea about your relationship but things don't go as planned.

Warnings: mentions of minor s*xual activity, small argument, swearing

You and Lena have been together for 3 months now. No one knew. You planned on telling people. Especially Lea. Your older sister who also happens to be Lenas best friend. But there was never the right time. The universe has funny ways of outing people though so she was about to find out soon. And it was totally not the way you or Obi would have chosen.

Lea and Lena were rooming together again at national Camp while you were rooming with Jule. She was your best friend & one of Lenas best friends. So the fact that you & her didn't even tell Jule about the relationship was making the two of you feel quite guilty sometimes. So your plan was to tell them in the next few weeks of camp.

The Team was currently having lunch downstairs while you and Obi said that you wanted to nap. It was obviously not the case. You two just wanted some time as a couple. It was day 3 of camp so you knew how long the others usually took to eat lunch so you had around 45 minutes to yourself. You just had to skip two doors down the corridor to get to Lenas room. Which was quickly done and you didn't even have the chance to open the door before your girlfriend managed to do that for you and pull you inside the room and into her arms. Kicking the door Close with her foot. She picked you up as the two of you kissed and carried you to the bed. "Finally some alone time!" you said in between kisses. "Let's make the most out of it. " Lena replied and laid down on top of you. The kiss deepened and her hands slipping under your shirt. "Take it off, Babe!" You whimpered out. You sat up a bit with her still on top of you. The brunette quickly removed your shirt and threw it on the floor.

You two shared lots of passionate kisses until you heard some voices. "What the f*ck!" Lea yelled out. You and Lena jump apart and you quickly put your shirt back on. "I can't believe this!" Jule said, clearly in shock. "Lea, Jule, we can explain!" Lena stated. "How you gonna explain to me that you are screwing my Little Sister behind my back?!" Lea asked. Clearly angry at her best friend. "We didn't mean to keep this a secret for so long but we wanted to find out what this is between us without anyone knowing!" You explained. "Well how long is this been going on and what is this?!" Lea asked. "Good question!" Jule answered. It was obvious that she was more hurt about you two not telling her about this. Lea on the other hand was furious. "We love eachother! And we have been together for 3 months!" You told them. "And it's really serious! Lea i love your sister! I apologize to both of you! This was not what we wanted! No one was supposed to be getting hurt or anything like that!" Lena explained. Thankfully after a few minutes you were able to defuse the situation a little.

You sat on Lena's bed next to her while Lea and Jule sat on Lea's bed. "So this really isn't just about...s*x?" Lea asked. You took Lenas hand and squeezed it gently. Looking over at your sister & Jule. "No this Is real, i love her." You answered, smiling softly. "Your sister is the best. I Love her with all of my heart! And the two of us promise to not keep important information from you Guys!" Lena replied. Smiling just as much. "I am happy for you! For both of you!" Jule told you. Which you appreciated. The talk ended in a group hug and then you went to tell the rest of the team about you being together.

Around 5 months later she proposed to you and you said yes. Which you told Jule and Lea about. But they knew about the proposal before you did because she asked your parents, Lea and Jule for their blessings since they are the most important people in your Life, apart from her of course. The Wedding was 4 months after that and you couldn't be happier. Life was amazing.

#woso x reader #lenaOberdorfxSchüllerReader #obi #dfb womens team #womens football #woso fanfics

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balkanradfem · 2 days ago

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Alright, this one is for all the people who read my 'spatula' and 'roommate emergency' posts. Because if you suffered trough those long whiny posts you deserve to know the insane continuation/ending to the story. Warning for high levels of drama and plot twists. Under cut because long.

So, after all of the emergency and spatula debakl, I was starting to feel slightly less warm to my roommate; not enough to be mean, but I decided to focus on my own stuff and not give her as much attention. We were still saying hi and casually chatting, but I wouldn't take food if she offered. She bought some fruit juice and told me to drink it, and I didn't wanna be mean so I just said 'you should drink it too', and ignored it. I will not be mollified with some fruit juice.

I felt happier focusing on myself, but I also started to get a little anxious, because what if the roommate gets mad at me, and then moves out? And then I thought, wait, that's an insane thought. Nobody moves out of a place because their roommate is a bit withdrawn and depressed, and doesn't give them tons of attention. Besides, I haven't done anything ever to cause her harm or distress, I'm just living my life and leaving her to hers. I'm fine.

So yesterday late evening, I went to the bathroom and noticed all of her shampoos and shower gels were missing, and immediately got worried about it. Why would she remove all her bathroom stuff, unless she is actually moving out? But she never said anything. It was already so late at night, I couldn't go bother her about it. It was 11 pm. I tried to not worry about it and fall asleep, but I couldn't. Thinking how maybe she's moving out, and then I'd be alone looking for a roommate in January when the bills are the worst, filled me with anxiety. How would I pay my rent? I heard her then, leaving her room and going into the bathroom. I made a split-second decision to get up and confront her about it. I needed to be sure.

I caught her in the hallway, and asked 'Hey, I saw you took all of your shampoos, are you leaving? If you're leaving I need to know.' She smiled at me and then reassured me that if she was leaving, she'd tell me. She then showed to me how a lot of her hair started falling out, and she thinks it's because of the shampoo, so she threw it away and now needs a new one. Oh okay, I thought, that's a relief. I told her thanks for explaining, and how I got so worried I couldn't sleep. She laughed at me for being silly and worrying, and I grumbled 'don't laugh at me' as I went back to my room and wished her a good night. She seemed so happy I talked to her, probably because I wasn't initiating any conversations lately.

Next morning, I woke up sad, so I was moping in my room, and at one point she stopped by my room asking if I was okay, and if I'm going to work. I replied weakly that I was fine (I wasn't, I was kinda sobbing and forgot my room door was open) and that I didn't have work that day. She said okay. I heard her leave.

After I calmed down from my sadness, I realized I needed to contact her employer, because she was supposed to pay her share of the bills, and even though I reminded her two days ago, she forgot, and I needed that money. I hate bothering people about money, so I just sent a little 'how about today?' message thinking that was friendly enough. Her employer responded with 'sure I'll send you the money via [roommate name], she still isn't at work.' I responded with 'she left, she should be there soon'.

And then I thought, maybe I was wrong when I heard her leave, so I got up, knocked on her door, and said her name to check if she was still there. No response. I pushed the door open.

My heart sank to the bottom of my feet.

The room was empty. The bed was empty. There was a mess on the floor but mostly trash. Her things were gone. Her clothes were gone. The key to the apartment was on the table.

I was immediately stricken with shock, and the realization that she lied to me yesterday, when I anxiously asked if she was leaving, she smiled and reassured me that she wasn't leaving while she was already packing her bags! But why?

I panicked then, thinking what I should do next. Was she okay? Was she safe? Did she go to a friend's place? Should I call her employer and check if she still went to work? But that's probably not what the roommate wanted, I needed to find her and ask her why, and what to tell to her employer, because I didn't know the right answer. I grabbed my bike and headed outside and tried to find her in the city.

No luck. After half an hour I understood too much time has passed, she could have been anywhere. She's left and cannot be found. I couldn't call her, because her phone doesn't have a real SIM card so calls don't work. I relented and called her employer to check if she was at work, and to try and find out what happened.

I needed to be calculated in order to get any kind of information, so I called and said 'Hi, just checking if [roommate's name] got to work safely?' And employer says 'No, she's still not at work'. So I go 'Did something happen yesterday? Something is wrong'.

Her employer was extremely evasive on what exactly happened. She started listing events like 'she wouldn't clean the windows, we had a media day yesterday and she had to talk to the cameras, she got mad about something, said she didn't want to work, that her head hurts, but wouldn't sign the form saying she's quitting, then she changed her mind and asked for a free day, but she already had two free days, she was unreasonable' it was a mumble-jumble of events I couldn't put together right. And then I finally told her that [roommate's name] is gone. She took her things and left the key. The employer didn't even seem that shocked. I was still in shock. I asked her to call me if she managed to get in contact.

I was still struggling to accept just what had happened. I then remembered that even though we never used it, at one point I added her on facebook, and maybe this could be our point of contact. I wanted to talk to her just one last time, to find out what happened at work that forced her to leave, and to say goodbye. I couldn't accept that she is just gone after all that, with no explanation, no goodbye.

I went to the park, connected to the internet and frevently searched for the little icon in my messenger. I found her. I sent her a message saying 'Hey, please tell me why you left. I won't bother you, I just need to know why.'

No response. She was online. I knew she saw it. But nothing.

I couldn't accept it. I tried calling her on facebook. She immediately blocked me.

I was left staring at my phone in disbelief. This was it. This was all I would ever get for closure. I'd never find out what had happened. Not from her employer, and not from her.

I felt heartbroken but at the same time had no time to deal with the emotional impact, because I had incoming panic about rent and bills! Her employer would definitely not want to pay her dues now that she was not even living there anymore, and I needed a roommate to stay afloat. Then I remembered, there was one person who viewed the apartment a month ago and wanted to move in, but wanted a solitary room – maybe she'd be interested in it still, since solitary room was now free.

I took my luck and called the woman. After I'd explained who I was and why I was calling, she was delighted. 'I thought about you every day!' she said excitedly. As a lesbian, I love a woman saying that to me, but, it was not the time. She's a 60yo divorced straight lady and I have to keep it together. She said she would move in tomorrow evening, and I said okay, not believing her fully because honestly who can you believe? 'I would tell you if I was leaving' was still ringing in my ears.

I knew now what I needed to do. Go home and... clean out the apartment.

It was as sad as you can imagine. I had to take down the christmas decorations that we had put up together, because the new person would surely find it odd to see a christmas tree at the end of January, and I just think it's nice so why take it down. I had to go clean out roommate's room, which had a fair amount of trash in it, and I realized, some stuff from her work, the key to her workplace, her working clothes. I understood I'd have to return those to her employer, who later called me to ask about it. I said I would bring it immediately.

Her employer wanted to talk to me, but only to convince me that the roommate was a lazy, messy, unmotivated and disobedient slob, which I didn't believe. I knew this lady was abusive and mean to my roommate and likely the reason roommate left. She was trying to paint my roommate as the villain so badly because she wanted to cover up her own abuse. I didn't believe any of it and I left. She didn't give me any money for bills. She promised to give it later.

I went home, and continued with my cleaning journey. I found some interesting things my roommate left behind. She left some random food items, like some oil and pasta, and then one transparent produce bag filled with something white. Rice, I thought? It was salt. Then, while clearing out her table, I found 3 pens, and realized all three were mine. Later I found a 4th pen, also mine. There was also some stationary paper from my desk. This explained why I could no longer find a pen in my room, they were all somehow ending up here. But I never invited her to just take my pens? It seems that every time she needed to write something down, she'd take a different pen from my desk, and never returned any. Well, that's not a horrible crime, I thought, it's just pens. None of them worked anymore, even though I made sure to only keep working pens on my desk.

I thought about what her employer said, about her being messy and leaving stuff everywhere, and even though I argued back and said to her my roommate was nice, some of it didn't feel so true anymore. She was leaving stuff everywhere, and created lots of messes. The first week she arrived we cleaned together, but that was the last time she cleaned. Every other time it was me cleaning alone. And she would sometimes spill stuff on the floor, or on the stovetop, and leave it. Or leave all counters cluttered to the point where I had to move her stuff before using them. But I thought she was just too busy to pay attention to things like that. Then while cleaning I found one of my fanciest kitchen cloths, with several holes burned trough it. That is a bit too chaotic, I thought. Why must you burn my cloth?

I was riddled with a lack of understanding of what happened; how could she have been here in the morning, talked to me like everything was okay, and now I will never see her again in my life, and never know why? Why would she do that? I have in the past, helped roommates flee from abusive situations, and if they had to quickly move, I would help them pack, lie to their abusers for them, hide their stuff they couldn't take with, so they could come get it later. Why would she find me unsafe to tell the truth to? I would have helped. I would have told her employer whatever she wanted me to. I've been on her side and advocating for her from the start. I convinced the employer when she was sick to let her off work, I held her hand when her eyes were sick, I bought her medicine, I offered to go anywhere and everywhere with her to translate and speak on her behalf when she needed anything. It couldn't have been just because I was moody and sad for a few days. I couldn't understand it.

The only reasons I could think of why she did that, was either she was worried I'd be mad she's leaving, worried I'd try to stop or follow her (which I wouldn't), or someone else instructed her on what to do and they spelled out to her to tell nobody.

The lady who wanted to move in called me again, and said she actually wanted to come and sleep here the same evening, and I now only had a few hours to clean everything out. I was exhausted, shaken, emotioanlly in shambles. But I washed all the windows, cleaned the fridge, washed the furniture and the floor, changed all the decor, put my spare cover and fresh bedding in the other room so the new roommate could sleep there without having to buy anything. The new lady has a list of red flags on her too; some of her behaviour is what I wouldn't want in a roommate, however, what choice do I have. I welcomed her, made her tea, explained all the rules, and then witdrew to my room to eat some peanut butter because I had forgotten to eat all day due to stress and shock.

And then I wrote this down! It's still the same day as I'm writing it. I talked to my roommate in the morning and now a new person I don't know is in that room, and I'm still stunned. What on earth happened today? I still want a phone call with an explanation. I didn't deserve to be left like that. I can't make out what to think of her now, this has never happened to me before. I had people leave on short notice, but never secretly, never while lying to me about what they're doing.

I still feel like she'll come here any second! Like I'll hear her voice again saying hi and how are you. But I never will again. It feels so weird. I'm both sad and relieved. She must be in a better place, far from her employer and with her friends who understand her and can help her find a better job. I'm relieved she's probably safer. But I'm sad about not getting a goodbye. Sad about being blocked, when all I wanted was an explanation. Sad about 'I would tell you if I was leaving'. How many times in life do you get anxious, then reassured that you're worrying for nothing, but then the anxiety turns out to be correct and the person purposefully lied? That doesn't bode well for future references.

I can't figure out if she was a nice person, and there were good reasons warranting her leaving like this, or whether I just misjudged her.

So yeah, unsatisfying as it is, this is the end of my Nepali roommate era, we sure had,,, times, and it sure did, end. I would like to apply for the drama free life from now on please.

#top ten anime betrayals #roommate story #nepali roommate #personal #drama #plotwists #mystery #unexplained #no closure #nepali roommate ending #stressful story

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