#Let Kovac Say Fuck

[kentuckycaverats]

kovac wilder mode upgrade wheeeeee!!

(context: the motley fought a dauntain's cold iron chimera and it nearly killed kier, which would have permanently destroyed his fae soul and terminated his reincarnation cycle. kovac rewound time to save him, and once everyone was safely out of combat kier had a panic attack over how close he'd come to being separated from kovac forever. it's the first time they've seen him have a panic attack in any lifetime.)

kovac has heard stress in kier's voice many times before, filtered through the distortion of the telephone line; but that pales in comparison to the state they see him in now. what happened? what changed? they do not understand. could this be the power of the dauntain's hound, poisoning his wounds from afar? they do not know enough about iron, and there is no time to call someone who will be certain.

time. i will make more. instinctively they brace to beg the dreaming for help, but catch themself. terror rises in their throat as they realize: they do not know what to change. they do not know what has him. they do not know what to look for, they could go back too far and find themselves back at willowbrook, back to his blood pooling across the floor--

he is small in a way they have never seen before. they do not know what to do.

i need you. they are here and he needs them now and they do not know what to do. he is the one who is brave, and brilliant, and clever, and always has the answers. they do not know what to do. but there is something inside them that does.

kovac reaches for the door handle. inky shadows coalesce from beneath the car and thicken into a viscous, tar-like mass that seeps up through the gaps between the plating in the metal. it swallows their hand and moves rapidly up their arm; wraps around their feet and up their leg; drips from the roof to engulf their head. when it's cocooned them completely it hardens instantly into an obsidian eggshell. a rune glows red, briefly, in the center: ᛘᚢᚾᛁᚾ. muninn.

the shell cracks.

the car door swings open and kovac steps out. taller, now. their face and limbs longer, more slender. the Victorian sewer orphan elements of their voile have vanished, replaced with a fitted raven-black tailcoat, the tail shaped into tail feathers; black slacks tucked into knee-high black fieldboots; a black lace shirt with ruffled collar and sleeves that end in raven feathers. still the same tangled mop obscuring their eyes, and the red ribbon wrapped around their wrist. they've found their big bird feathers at last.

kovac kneels in front of kier and takes his face in their cold, clammy hands. "huginn. wings of my soul, i have you. it is time to breathe. do this, and help me find something that is red."

[integra1127grimmreaper]

Murder On The Dance Floor (Dave York)

Dave York Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Warning: swearing, death, murder, smut.

Summary: A little prequel to Isn't My Affair Anymore. Inspired by Sophie Ellis-Bextor's - Murder On The Dancefloor.

The nightclub was booming with life when you entered, it really wasn't your cup of tea yet unfortunately this job required for you to be here. Reaching the bar, you order a drink whilst silently taking surveillance of the room. Far off in a dark corner, Ari and Kovac were having drinks together, a few chairs to the left of the bar, was Resnik, and right next to you, pretending to be a stranger was the bane of your existence; Dave York.

The man was a total asshole. Well, at least only toward you. At first you thought it was because you were new to the team, the others having been good friends and teammates for years. Then you thought, perhaps it was due to the nature of you having joined the team that made Dave so hostile toward you. "Anyone would be extremely pissed if they've been blackmailed into taking in an extra member into their secret assassins for hire team, wouldn't they...?" You of course knew who Dave was, having interacted with both he and Susan over agency related matters as part of your duties. You came across Dave's secret side job by accident; working in the Defense Cover Office of the DIA came with its perks, so it wasn't that hard to dig around a bit and figure out what he been up to. And instead of outing him to the higher ups, you offered him a sort of partnership in exchange for your silence; with the high security clearance access you had, you would do proper background checks on each job before they were executed to secure the teams safety and therefore become an active member of the team. "Being a contract killer, you had to be extra careful..." Where the others found your addition as valuable, Dave had openly hated it, and the two of you had been butting heads ever since.

Taking a sip from your drink, your eyes land on the entrance door just as the target enters, "Show time..." you utter against the rim of the glass.

"Don't fuck it up" Dave's voice comes across your ear peace.

"Blow me" you retort.

"The two of you need to get a room..." Resnik remarks then while Ari and Kovak can be heard softly snickering over the ear peace.

"He wishes" you scoff, making your way in the direction of the target.

Murder...

It's murder on the dance floor But you better not kill the groove DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down

Oh, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know About your kind And so-and-so and so-and-so and so-and-so and so I'll have to play

If you think you're gettin' away, I will prove you wrong I'll take you all the way, boy, just come along Hear me when I say, hey

*

"Omg, your shoe!" you gasp in surprised apology after 'accidently' bumping into the target and spilling your drink onto his shoes. "I'm so sorry... let me get something to clean it up."

"It's quite alright" the man assures you with a smile, shaking the liquid off his shoes. "See... perfectly fine. No harm done."

"I'm such a klutz" you chastise yourself, flashing him a doe-eyed smile. "Could I get you a drink as an apology then?"

"Oh, there's no need..." the man politely declines, causing you to pout in response. "Such a sad face for such a beautiful lady..." he tsks, reaching out to tilt your chin up. "How about a dance...?"

It's murder on the dance floor But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey It's murder on the dance floor But you better not steal the moves DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down

Oh, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know There may be others And so-and-so and so-and-so and so-and-so and so You'll just have to pray

If you think you're gettin' away, I will prove you wrong I'll take you all the way, stay another song I'll blow you all away, hey

*

The target's hands were all over you as the two of you danced, your back flushed against his front as you made sure to grind extra hard onto him in distraction. Midway through the dance, he turns you around; eyes dark with lust as he pulls your body closer to his. Silently studying him as his eyes remained focused on your lip, you couldn't help but feel a little sad at having to kill him. "He was quite handsome. In another lifetime, you would have even considered getting to know him better..."

With bated breath, you watched as the target's head slowly tips down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Reaching a hand upward, you hastily release the pin-size needle in your ring as you cup the back his head.

"Ouch!" the target breaks the kiss with a gasp. Reaching up to feel at the spot; he frowns in utter displeasure, not evening noticing someone hastily sweep you out of his arms and off the dance floor.

"That was highly entertaining..." Resnik remarks, the two of you snickering whilst casually heading for the door as screams of panicked concerned rang from the dance floor.

Resnik and you barely made it out of the establishment when you were suddenly ripped from his arms backwards.

"Ride with the others" Dave orders Resnik with a head tilt.

"What the fuck, York?!" you rip away from his hold once reaching the car.

With calmed demeanor, Dave steps up to you, "shut up and get in the car."

Scoffing at his gall and rolling your eyes, you get into the car without say anything further.

It's murder on the dance floor But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey It's murder on the dance floor But you better not steal the moves DJ, gonna turn this house around somehow

Murder on the dance floor (on the dance floor) But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey It's murder on the dance floor (on the dance floor) But you better not steal the moves DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down

Don't think you'll get away, I will prove you wrong I'll take you all the way, boy, just come along Hear me when I say, hey

*

Entering the hotel room ahead of Dave; you whirl around, hand on your hips as you shoot him arched brow, "care to explain what all that was about?"

Dave doesn't respond, merely walks toward the mini bar to pour a drink. You silently study him as he then bypasses you toward the box of tissues on a nearby table. Walking back toward you, he presents the tissue to you. "Wipe your mouth."

Scowling at the nerve of him, yet not wanting to push your luck too much, "the man could kill you at any minute if he wanted and there was no Resnik to save your sorry ass", you snatch the tissue from his fingers and proceed to do so.

"Happy...?" you remark, waving the lipstick-stained tissue in his face.

Titling his head, with a sadistic grin plaster across his face; Dave pushes the glass out toward you. "Take this into your mouth. Do not swallow. Swirl it around your mouth, then spit it back out."

Taken aback by his unusual orders, you frown in confusion. "What-the-actual-fuck...?"

Exhaling heavily, you take the glass and do as told. Dave lets out a soft hum, giving you a nod of approval as he takes the glass from you.

"What's the meaning of all this, York?" you ask as Dave moves to place the glass down. He remains silent, his back toward you still, so you decide to ask again, "Yor-" your words were suddenly cut off by Dave's lips crushing hard against yours.

It's murder on the dance floor But you better not kill the groove It's murder on the dance floor But you better not steal the moves DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down

It's murder on the dance floor But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey It's murder on the dance floor But you better not steal the moves DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down

*

"I can't fucking stand you" you breathlessly utter, staring at the lust blown eyes of Dave as he panted heavily above you. A smirk slowly spreads across his lips, "that so...?", he enquires tauntingly. "How about my cock, huh...? Can you stand my cock?", emphasizing with a hard thrust of his hips.

"Fuck..." your eyes roll back with a soft cry, your grip around his waist and cock tightening in response. Dave buries his face in the crook of your neck, groaning in approval against the flesh, "tight, so fucking tight..."

The only response you could muster was a weak whimper as he continued to work himself in and out of you. Lifting his face from out of your neck, Dave flashes you a mocking grin, "my cock got your tongue? Don't worry... it'll later."

You let out a groan of displeasure and Dave throws his head back whilst chuckling, "who would have thought; getting drunk on my cock would be the remedy to shutting you up?"

"Fuck you..." you hiss, glaring up at him.

Dave flashes you a dimpled smirk, "you already are..."

Opening your mouth to retort, you're thrown off-kilter when Dave picks up the pace of his thrusts. "Fuck, Dave...!" your back arches with a loud cry, heels digging hard into his lower back as your nails dig even deeper into his shoulder blades. "Just like that- Don't stop!"

"I'm not stopping. Not even if you beg me to" Dave growls out, behavior almost animalistic as he fucks you into submission.

"Dave! I'm gonna cum...!" you cry out in warning.

"Do it! Cum for me...!" Dave growls out the order. As on command, your climax hits as you clench around him tightly with a loud screech of his name.

"Fuck..." Dave groans out in approval as your walls held his cock in a vice grip.

Your high slowly begins to come down and your grip around him loosens slightly, allowing him to continue toward his own release. A man on a mission; Dave fists both hands in your hair, hips snapping harder and faster into you as his climax begins to build.

You were a whimpering mess while writhing underneath Dave as your second climax builds. "You're a tough girl-" Dave grunts out in-between rough thrusts, "you can take it."

"Fuck, Dave...!" you scream out, cumming for the second. Dave buries his face into crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into your flesh with a loud groan as he cums deep inside you.

Dave remained on top of you whilst both attempted to catch your breath, finally you break the silence, "if you wanted to fuck me all this time, you could have just told me instead of acting like an asshole..."

His body shakes in silent laughter, rolling off you then, he responds, "blow me."

"Next time" you remark, patting his chest nonchalantly; causing him to finally burst out in loud laughter.

Rolling back to lean over; Dave smiles down at you as he caressed your face, tipping down for a kiss and uttering against your lips, "next time..."

It's murder on the dance floor (on the dance floor) But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey It's murder on the dance floor (on the dance floor) But you better not steal the moves DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down

Oh, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know (on the dance floor) But you better not kill the groove 

Nxt

[ikaishere]

its writers appreciation time, bitches. will probaly do one every once in a while, because writers lack appreciation and it sucks. @breannasfluff I think that's just like. do I need to say I love her stuff? not only does she actively runs 3 aus (wing bois, which have amazing ravioli and triple threat, eldirtch wild and wolf pack!!!!!) but also HAVE YOU EVER READ HER RAVIOLI STUFF??? best food ever. delicious full course meal. such good fluff (living up to her name fr fr). i beg you if you haven't checked out her stuff what are you even doing go and catch up!!!!! @arecaceae175 again, I think its a given..................... i think about "in defense of honour" on a daily basis. their writing style is just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA and, if you need good sky-centric content....you know who to check @kovacs-on-ice dude I cant be too nice to you I cant let my soft side exist but. you know how badly I appreciate you. anyways, he has an extremely cool lu au (eclipse au, which I've done some art for...) AND IS THE AMAZING WRITER FOR ETERNAL FROST AU!!!!!! @marcusdoodlesalot HIS MODERN AU!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i forgot the name of the trio but if you ned good warriors twi sky content you know where to look for it. amazing stuff, truly @majorproblems77 again, I think we all know how much I adore majors stuff. their whumptober...............the tears I shed on it........... such a good whump writer, really GO CHECK THEM OUT! RIGHT! NOW! @the-sleepydetective that series where champions talk with chain members.......gods above good shit. such a good writer, as all of the above. AND they have some delicious ravioli there is so many more that I want to list but either a) I will another time b) I'm too scared to tag- TO ALL THE WRITERS. I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[stargazer-sims]

The Art of Redemption

(part 12)

previous // next // story index

—————

"Good news, children!" Stan bursts through the doorway of the guest room without so much as a knock. He doesn't seem the least bit shocked or bothered by the fact that Beth-Anne is curled up next to Nikolai in the big bed. "You're gonna love this!"

Beth-Anne drags her eyelids open a little further. She’s tired, and it’s an effort. "Jesus, Stan! Ever heard of privacy?"

Stan quirks an eyebrow. "What? I'm not interrupting something, am I? I didn't think you swung that way."

"The fuck...?" She seizes the nearest soft object she can reach, which happens to be Nikolai's grey teddy bear, and flings it at him. "Fuck off!"

Stan catches the bear neatly. He's laughing. "And all this time, I thought you were a morning person. You too, little Kolya."

Beside her, Nikolai groans sleepily. "This is a bad dream, right?"

"Do you often dream about being in bed with your coach?" Stan asks, his tone filled with mock-innocence.

"Oh my God. Please stop." Nikolai grabs the edge of the quilt and pulls it up so that only the top of his messy brown hair is visible. "I'm not in bed with her."

"That’s not what it looks like, but okay," Stan says.

"You know what I mean!"

"I call it as I see it," Stan says, "Anyway, it's fine. Whatever the two of you get up to behind closed doors is none of my business. You're both adults."

"Stan, enough." Beth-Anne tries to put as much steel into her tone as possible. She knows he's only teasing and she's sure Nikolai knows it too, but just because she enjoys Stan's sometimes inappropriate sense of humour, that doesn't mean everyone's going to appreciate it. It's fairly obvious Nikolai is uncomfortable, and Beth-Anne isn't keen to let that continue. "What do you want?

"I just wanted to tell you the good news," Stan says cheerfully. "We had a shit ton of snow overnight. Everything's closed. Schools, shopping malls..." He gives her a conspiratorial wink, as if the closures were organized specifically for their benefit. "Municipal sport and recreation facilities."

Nikolai peeks out from under the blanket. "You mean, the rink is closed?"

"All the municipal facilities," Stan says. "Rinks, pools, libraries, the recycling depot. Probably even City Hall. We're having a genuine, certified snow day, and personally, I don't intend to waste it lying around."

"We weren't lying around. We were literally sleeping," Beth-Anne points out.

"Details," Stan says. "Now, let's go. Haul ass, kids. Milena's making breakfast, and then we need to clear the driveway. Betka's work isn't closed, and the whole fucking world would have to end before they gave her husband a day off, so she's bringing the boys over to spend the day. It's gonna be great."

"Can we at least take showers and put on some clean clothes first?"

Stan grins at her. "Sure, if you want cold breakfast. Come on. Eat now, shower later."

And so, unable to argue with the force of nature that is Stanislav Kovac, they do.

She and Nikolai climb out of bed and trail Stan to the kitchen where Milena is in the process of making what might be banana pancakes. The warm, inviting scents of coffee and savoury sausage fill the room, and there's already a pitcher of orange juice, a carton of milk and an array of condiments on the table.

Beth-Anne has lost count of how many times she's sat in the Kovacs' kitchen and shared a meal with them. After her accident, she'd lived with them for several months while she recovered her ability to walk and her courage to face the world beyond the safety of their four walls. They helped her stay sober and sane, and their steady presence healed her in ways she's sure none of them have words to explain.

Milena and Stan and their daughter Alzbeta — known affectionately as Betka — taught her what it was like to be part of a healthy and loving family, and from them she learned that relying on others isn't a sign of weakness, that there's far more strength in the care and support of others than anyone could ever find alone.

She feels at home in the Kovacs' house and comfortable with their quirks as well as their routines. It's not strange for her to observe Milena at the stove, dressed in old gym shorts and one of Stan's shirts, preparing what she and Stan both insist is the most important meal of the day, neither is it odd for her to see Stan dancing gracefully around the kitchen in his ridiculous plush moose slippers that would be a serious tripping hazard for someone less agile and less aware of the capabilities of his body.

The vintage radio is tuned to a classical music station, and one of Stan's favourite pieces of music has just come on. Beth-Anne recognizes it. It's Les Patineurs Op. 183, by the nineteenth-century composer Émile Waldteufel, and she'd once skated to it in a competition. She suspects Stan may have skated to it at some point too. His dance looks choreographed, the movements long-remembered and clearly beloved.

Milena says something to him in their native Czech, and he replies in English, "Yes, I remember." He spins fluidly across the floor until he's next to her, and then he kisses her on the cheek. "I remember we both got something gold that night."

Beth-Anne smiles. She knows exactly what he's referring to.

Stan delights in telling the story of how he proposed to Milena. He'd been planning it for weeks and had even bought a ring, but hadn't actually presented it to her when he asked her to marry him. Instead, he'd given her his newly-won gold medal from Skate Canada. Apparently, he'd been too excited and full of adrenaline to wait for their next proper date and he'd proposed right there at the competition venue.

The first time Beth-Anne heard that story, she hadn't been the least bit surprised. It was perfectly in-character for Stan. What was also characteristically Stan was how he'd later taken that very same medal to a goldsmith, where it'd been melted down and refashioned into Stan and Milena's wedding bands.

"So we can always wear our greatest victory for the world to see," he'd said.

Beth-Anne loves that Stan considers his marriage to Milena his greatest victory.

We should all be so fortunate, she thinks.

She asks Milena if there's anything she can do to help with breakfast, although she already knows what the answer will be.

"No, it's under control," Milena assures her. "Grab a coffee and have a seat. This'll all be ready in a few minutes."

She fixes coffee for herself and Nikolai, and then joins him at the table. True to her word, Milena carries a huge platter of pancakes and sausage to the table a few minutes later. Stan finally decides to sit down as well, and they all enjoy some carefree chatter and the delicious food that's as filling to Beth-Anne's spirit as it is to her stomach.

After breakfast, she and Stan dress up to go outside and clear the driveway. Nikolai offers to help, but both she and Stan veto the idea immediately. He may be walking more confidently now, but there's no way they're going to let him shovel snow.

Milena says he can stay inside with her and help tidy up the kitchen. Beth-Anne is grateful to Milena for offering him a way to feel useful, and evidently Nikolai is too, because he happily acquiesces.

With Nikolai left in Milena's capable hands, Beth-Anne follows Stan out through the garage. They collect two wide snow shovels and then make their way outdoors. Stan wasn't wrong about how much it had snowed in the night. Yesterday, she'd guessed it might snow, but she had no idea they'd be up past their knees in it. It's still snowing lightly, with no signs of stopping soon, but if they don't start cleaning up now, it'll be that much more difficult when the storm finally does dwindle to its inevitable end.

For the first little while, they don't say much, other than to comment about how cold it is or how astonished they are by the unexpectedly heavy snowfall. By the time they've removed all the snow from the doorstep and walkway and the front of the garage, however, Stan seems more inclined to converse. They're clearing around his car when he says, "So, last night...?"

"What about last night?" she queries. "If this is gonna be about me and Nikolai sleeping in the same bed..."

"No, it's not," Stan says. "I know nothing happened. Well, nothing like that at least, but even if you did get up to something frisky, it's like I already said. You're adults. You do what you want. What I'm talking about was you screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night."

"Oh, God." Beth-Anne moans. "I'm so sorry. It's bad enough that I woke Nikolai. I didn't know I woke you and Milena too."

"You didn't wake Milena. That woman could sleep through World War Three. But, it took all my willpower not to run downstairs and check on you."

"And you didn't come down because...?"

"Because I remembered Nikolai was in there with you. Or you were in there with him, I suppose, since you didn't come up to the room we offered you."

"Yeah, well it was a little, uh... noisy up there for my tastes."

Stan snorts in his effort not to laugh. "Right. Apologies for that, but when your wife's rocking the boy-cut underwear and looking hot as fuck, sometimes you just gotta do something, you know?"

"I love that you still think she's hot."

"And why wouldn't i? Sure, she looks different than she did when we were eighteen, but so what? She's my benchmark for beauty. Everybody else has to measure up to her."

"You're amazing, you know."

"I know," Stan says, but then he turns serious again. "Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you're okay after the talk we had yesterday, and then whatever happened last night."

"Yeah, I'm surprisingly okay," she says. "I'm not cured, obviously, but I do feel better today. It was a pretty bad nightmare, but Nikolai looked after me. We talked afterwards, and he gave me some stuff to think about, whether he realizes it or not."

"What stuff?"

"For one thing, he seems to think I'm not going to end up being a danger to anybody. Maybe he's an optimist, but he thinks the kids are safe."

"Of course they are," Stan says. "Don't I keep telling you that? We didn't have you in anger management therapy back in the day for no reason, did we?"

"No. There was a reason. It was to keep me safe. And other people safe from me."

"Yeah, but it was also for your future, and you see how well it's worked out. You're like a second mom to some of those kids of yours.

"Nikolai said something like that too."

"So Nikolai tells you one time, and you believe him?"

"No, it's not that," she says. "It's not like I believe Nikolai and I don't believe you. It just seems easier to believe when I'm hearing it from more than one person, if that makes sense."

"It does," says Stan. "Not that I'm telling you to take a poll or anything, but if you did, I'll bet you'd hear the same thing from all your students' parents. I mean, the fact that they trust you with their kids should tell you as much."

She smiles wryly. "I just wish I could trust myself."

"That takes time, but you know what I think might help?"

"What?"

"Remember how you used to be," he says. "Look at how far you've come since I first met you, how much fuckin' awesome progress you've made as a human being, not just as an athlete and a coach. Not only should you trust yourself to do the right things, but you should be damn proud of yourself for getting it mostly right so far."

"Mostly right."

"Nobody's perfect."

"True," she agrees. She moves a few more shovelfuls of snow before she continues. "There was something else."

"Something else Nikolai said to you, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"And...?"

"I told him about Abby, and I told him how I got the scars."

Stan makes a sombre hum of affirmation. "That took courage."

"It felt like the right thing to do."

"How'd he take it?"

"I'd say he was shocked, but not totally surprised, and he said he didn't think any of it was my fault. And do you know what he asked me?"

Stan plants his shovel in the snow. He rests his gloved hands on top of the handle and leans forward a little, meeting her eyes. "I get the sense it's something you didn't see coming."

"You're right," she confirms. She pokes the snow a bit with the blade of her own shovel before sticking it into the nearest drift and copying Stan's posture. "He asked me if I've tried looking for Abby recently."

"Have you?" Stan asks.

Beth-Anne shakes her head. "No, but the more I think about it, the more I think maybe I should."

"Are you prepared for something like that? Like, emotionally and psychologically prepared?"

"No, but if I wait for a moment when I fell like I'm totally ready, maybe I'll never do it, and maybe this is something I need to do now, you know? Maybe it's the next step I need to take to move on."

"What if you find out something you'd rather not know?"

"Like what? The worst thing I could learn is something I already accept might be a possibility, that my sister died in the eighties. But, Stan..." She gazes at him intently, willing him to comprehend her sudden earnestness. "Stan, what if she didn't? What if she escaped that hell, and what if some foster family loved her and raised her like their own? I could still have a sister out there somewhere."

"This may not have a happy ending," he says.

"I know, but even if she doesn't remember me or doesn't want to meet me, or even if she really did pass away years ago, I think I'd feel better knowing the truth about what happened."

Stan presses his lips together as if he's deep in thought, attempting to come up with an adequate response. "I don't want you to think I'm discouraging you from doing this," he says at length. "You should, if you think it's what you need to do. I just don't want you to be hurt."

"I know," she smiles at him. "You always want to protect me, and it's one of the reasons I love you, but remember what you're always saying. We don't achieve anything if we're not willing to take risks."

"That sounds like the kind of motivational shit I'd say at the rink."

"It applies just as well to life off the ice."

He frowns, but she understands it's not because he's upset. It's because he's worried but also has to concede her point. "Knowing the truth likely would give you some closure," he says. "Maybe it would help you move on.

"Nikolai suggested Milena might be able to help," she tells him. "He said she might know how to get access to family court records and old documents from Social Services and stuff like that."

"Milena's not that kind of lawyer," Stan says. "But I'll bet there's somebody at her firm who is. I can ask her, if you want."

"No," Beth-Anne says. "I have to be sure I'm really doing this. I need to think about it a little more. When I'm sure I’m going ahead with it, I'll ask her myself."

Stan nods. "Okay. If you need to talk about it any more in the meantime, I'm here."

"Thanks," she says. "I'm grateful I can always count on you."

He smiles. "Hey, what's family for? No matter what happens, we've always got your back."

[drabbles-mc]

Once in Twenty Lifetimes

Takeshi Kovacs x Kristin Ortega

Written for the 2024 Candy Hearts Exchange!

Warnings: 18+, language, smoking/alcohol, light angst, slight steam

Summary: She had spent so much of her life making sure that she blended in, and she'd been successful at it the way she'd been taught. Now, though, it was all going to hang in the balance when the one other person left that knew who she really was, was getting spun back up. And of course he was getting spun up into the sleeve of her partner. (Envoy!Kristin AU)

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: i sat down thinking i was just gonna write a little something something for this au idea as a treat for the exchange but then i got super into it and fuckin carried away lmao. oh well! i had a good time! 😂

Altered Carbon Taglist: @garbinge @destinedtobeloved @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

“Takeshi Kovacs. Look me up,” he offered the statement to her with a smirk. It didn’t quite pass for charming, per se, although it probably wasn’t his intention anyway. From what she remembered, which was everything of their stint running parallel to each other thanks to Envoy’s total recall, that hadn’t ever really been his strong suit.

Plus she wasn’t in any mood to be charmed in that moment.

There were a million and one reasons that she shouldn’t have gone to seek him out. There were endless layers to the problems it could potentially cause. Bancroft selling out Ryker’s sleeve like a hand-me-down from an older sibling was bad enough, but putting Takeshi Kovacs into it? It brought the situation out of the realm of infuriating and into one of being unbelievable. Bancroft wheeling and dealing Ryker’s suit was a personal vendetta. Tak’s stack being put into it felt like a cosmic one. He should’ve been dead by now anyway. Same way she should’ve been, but a lot goes on in two hundred and fifty years, and clearly real death didn’t want anything to do with either of them just yet.

He said it, though. He confirmed it. She’d heard the rumors beforehand and there was an intuitive twist in her gut that told her there was some substance to them, but she didn’t want to believe it. He was looking her in the eyes and telling her his name and she still didn’t want to believe it.

“You can’t be who you say you are,” she said, partially to keep playing her assigned role but partially because she simply didn’t want to believe that it was really him. “All the Envoys died.” A lie. One that she would be living proof of even if Tak wasn’t.

“All except one,” he retorted easily.

Asshole. Another thing about him that had apparently stayed consistent across the centuries. What was it that he said to her back then? Every sleeve, every time? He wasn’t wrong about that at least. He was wrong about everything else, though. All except one? He’d been out of storage for five minutes and already felt comfortable making sweeping, definitive statements like that. Sleeve-jumping was a skillset they’d all developed, but still. That was a long time to stay down. And to turn up on a planet you’d never been to before? All that and over two centuries down and maybe she would’ve come off ice making the same grave mistakes. Maybe she could make his work in her favor. She just had to make sure that she could keep Takeshi and Elias separate.

She was so busy thinking about all of that, memories going in a relentless playback against the inside of her skull, that she almost didn’t realize that she was still talking with Miriam Bancroft. That part of her was on auto-pilot, or at least it was until she had to get herself the fuck out of there before she landed herself in even deeper hot water.

“Yeah, there’s your kid, there’s your car, and there’s your…” she thought on it for a moment, trying to pick something that felt honest to her feelings in the moment but would still feel like something Police Officer Kristin Ortega would say, not the woman she was back when Takeshi really knew her, “new pet terrorist. You’re welcome,” she added, mostly for good measure, but it also felt good to say it.

“The terrorist can hear you,” he spoke, just barely turning his head to follow her as she continued to walk, but not committing enough to the act to turn his whole body. “I’m standing right here.”

“Yeah, good,” she stared up at him, waiting for him to meet her eyeline, “’cause we’re not done, you and me.”

There was a moment when he was looking down into her eyes that she thought maybe he saw it. Maybe he saw the flicker of the person that he knew once, the person that she was back then. Dozens of sleeves ago but it was still her in most of the ways that mattered. Most, not all. He looked back and forth between her eyes and she waited to see recognition flicker in them. He’d always had that edge to him, after all. It got drilled into all of them during their training but there was something about the way that Takeshi was wired before he even became part of the Envoy core that made him take to it faster and better than most. She envied him for it back then, but maybe now they were more on the same playing field. Or they would be until he got his full footing.

Everyone thought they knew why it bothered her, but still they asked. They were probably hoping for some other nuggets of information, more vitriol about Bancroft and the rest of the meths maybe since she had such an outspoken issue with the lot of them. The rest of the precinct saw her anger and they assumed that it was all because of Ryker. Like she was a woman so simple as that. Elias was part of her frustration with this scenario of course, but the puzzle was so much more complicated than that. It was difficult in ways that she simply couldn’t risk trying to explain to any of them. All of the reasons that she feared Tak and the potential fall-out of him being taken off-stack, were all the same reasons that the rest of the precinct would no longer trust her if they found out the truth about her past.

She’d been born at just the right time, in her opinion. Born late enough to reap all the benefits of a stack, but early enough so that she could manipulate it easily to her benefit when she had needed to most. Data infiltration and manipulation was still easy when you knew the right people and had the right tools, but back then it had been so much easier. It also didn’t hurt that Envoys learned to be on the cusp of it all anyway. All of that was why she was able to wipe her entire past off the record, rewrite it the way that she had wanted to. She created someone who was just enough of a force that she wouldn’t have to water herself down too much, but it was dialed back enough to not get her put on a fucking watchlist. Or even worse, get her thrown into storage off the principle off it. They were all supposed to be masters of disguise, and it had served her well in the aftermath.

She sat in the precinct trying to play over every possible scenario in her head. She wanted to be able to see every possible outcome. If the two of them spent enough time running circles around each other, he was bound to figure it out, right? Figure her out? Eventually the fog would dissipate and he would see her. He’d see past the sleeve. There was no certainty for her in what she thought his reaction to it was going to be if and when that happened. Maybe she could get him thrown back in storage before she had to worry about it. Get Ryker back in his own sleeve. He was so much less of a problem on that front—all that time spent being partners and he still hadn’t even skated close to the chasm of truths that separated them. She hoped it stayed that way—it kept life simpler for the both of them.

Although if Takeshi got his sleeve torn to shreds in the midst of whatever this new deal with Bancroft was, she supposed that none of it would really matter for Elias anyway. What a mess.

She wasn’t surprised, to say the least, when she found him later, strung out and stumbling through the streets. It seemed pretty on-par for Tak—that specific brand of recklessness. For so many years she watched him equate the word Envoy with invincible even though they all knew that it wasn’t the case. It didn’t help that he wasn’t exactly known for his drive for self-preservation. Regardless, the drugs fell in alignment with the Tak she once knew, and she also knew that Ryker’s sleeve would soak them up like a sponge put into a pot of water. A disaster of a marriage.

“Bancroft spent all that money on a nice sleeve for you, and this is what you’re doing with it?” she asked sarcastically as she walked up behind him.

He turned around to face her, a stumble in his step that he was too far gone to even try and hide. “Didn’t think you’d give a fuck about me wasting Bancroft’s money.” He paused, eyes narrowing as his delayed processing caught up with the situation. “You’re following me.”

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “That’s what police do to psycho-terrorists.”

“Come on, you cannot call me that.”

He was stoned out of his mind on, well, it could’ve been just about anything. Or a combination of things. The longer that Kristin looked at him, the more she was certain that she could throw a dart at a board and it would probably land on something that he’d ingested since the last time she saw him. That wasn’t the point. The point was that he was stoned out of his mind and the reason that he was telling her that she couldn’t call him that was because he was being a petulant child, not because by calling him that she would be lumping herself into the exact same group. She knew that it wasn’t nearly that deep and yet she still found herself fighting the urge to flinch at the layers to the comment. Even if she hadn’t caught the physical reaction in time, she wondered if he would’ve even caught it with the state that he was in.

He wasn’t really paying her any mind as he tried to continue on his way. It was hard for him to come off as determined when he couldn’t think straight and he was in a place that he hadn’t ever been before. With each step she took to keep her stride with him, she was trying to separate out all the files in her head. She was trying to keep two neat piles, or even two messy piles if she was being honest with herself: one pile for Elias, and one pile for Takeshi.

She was just as much Envoy as Takeshi was—she could compartmentalize just fine for the most part. But it wasn’t often that she ran into the issue that she was currently facing, one that had so much overlap between sleeve and stack. She’d burned through so many sleeves back then, and continued to go through them albeit at a much slower rate even when she got out of the core. She’d watched others do it too, Envoys and civilians alike. But this wasn’t just putting someone’s stack into a new sleeve and needing to adjust to the new face. This was a face that she knew, the stack that belonged to it still fully intact somewhere in storage, and someone completely different occupying the real estate in the meantime. Someone else that she knew. And it wasn’t as though either of the men who made up the Venn diagram in her head were known for being uncomplicated individuals on their own let alone when they were tethered to each other.

She tried to toe the line with him, anything to get more information out of him. The pendulum swung back and forth between banter and sniping comments. It wasn’t as though either of them had any lasting impact on him. The comments rolled right off—either because of the drugs or the Envoy conditioning, she wasn’t sure.

“What was the other one?” she asked rhetorically as she downed her drink. “Oh, yeah. Icepick. I liked that one.”

“Yeah, that was a good one.” He looked over at her, a hoodedness to his eyes that would’ve almost come off as flirtatious if he’d been sober. “You should call me Icepick.”

She rolled her eyes, using it as a tactic to avert her gaze. “I never called you that,” she muttered, half under her breath.

“What was that?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as if to get a better look at her.

She looked him square in the eyes. “I said I’m not fucking calling you that.” She said it with enough conviction to sell it.

Another smirk, paired with hazy, drug-addled eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

The more that they fired back and forth, the more she wondered if it was possible that she had really changed that much. Apparent assimilation was supposed to be one of the key tools in their toolbox as Envoys, sure. But it was also hard to believe that she had done it so effectively that she was flying completely under Takeshi’s radar. It wasn’t humility—that was never her strong suit the way that charm hadn’t ever been Tak’s. It just didn’t seem to fit. There were so many things that seemed off about the entire situation, but she couldn’t quite name them no matter how much information she tried to pull out of Takeshi about Bancroft, about anything he was willing to give her.

Then there was a sharp sting in the back of her mind as the thought reared its ugly head. He should remember me. Her face scrunched, action unmitigated as she tried to beat the impending spiral of thoughts into submission—she couldn’t afford to lose herself to that right now.

He was already up and making his way towards the door. “I’m going back to my hotel.”

His voice snapped her back to attention. Shooting up out of her seat, she followed him. “You can’t really be staying in that fucking AI hotel.” She shook her head. “They’re like crazy ex-girlfriends, you know.”

He looked down at her as he adjusted the backpack on his shoulder. There was a smirk on his face, one that seemed slightly more intentional this time. “You know a lot about crazy ex-girlfriends, Ortega?”

She scoffed. “Probably not as much as you but—”

He cut her off, a shift in his tone, a seriousness that she could pick up on. “Give it a rest.”

She followed him clean out the door onto the sidewalk, trying not to let herself get discouraged by him ignoring her attempts to walk alongside him or, ideally, get in front of him to stop him. “Kovacs!” she called after him.

Without turning around, he waved at her over his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Officer Ortega.”

She huffed, allowing herself to stop. She whispered loudly to no one other than herself, “Fuck me.”

Takeshi didn’t hide the surprise on his face when she showed up to the hotel later before anyone else in the police department managed to get there. He didn’t get the feeling that she had just been lurking outside the door. If that had been the case, the scenario wouldn’t have played out the way it did, gotten as out of hand as it did. Or maybe it would have—he had no idea how she operated. But she strode in confidently, despite the worry and frustration on her face. She looked around and took in the state of the mess and Takeshi had no choice but to sit there and watch her do so.

“Couldn’t even make it twenty-four hours out of storage without killing someone?” she asked as she walked over to him, gun still clutched tightly in her hand even though it was pointed at the floor.

Poe tried to intervene on Takeshi’s behalf. “If it weren’t for—”

He didn’t want anyone coming to his defense, even when he could do with a little bit of assistance. “Waiting down the block for this to happen?”

She shook her head at him, finally holstering her gun once she was standing in front of him. “Might as well have been.” She looked around the destroyed lobby once more. “Had a feeling trouble was going to follow you.”

“Any trouble that would be following me,” he paused briefly as the red and blue lights of other responding police vehicles started to filter through the front windows and door of the hotel, “should’ve stopped being trouble a few centuries ago.”

She reached out and turned his face to get a better look at the damage, not hesitating to touch him, fingertips still drawn to his chin and cheek like it was still Ryker knocking around inside that sleeve. The tension that resulted from her touch, the momentary fighting against it, reminded her that it wasn’t, but it was too late to take it back.

“Seems like you might be enough of an asshole for it to follow you around for a couple hundred years, Kovacs.”

He grunted, pulling away from her touch, hating the way his sleeve wanted to lean into it despite how badly he was trying to recoil away. “Maybe.”

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck this was all about?”

“Thought you just told me,” he said, rising to his feet so he was towering over her once more.

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Can’t help it. Every sleeve, every—”

“Every time, yeah. Your consistency is admirable,” she snapped.

His eyes narrowed, chin dipping down so that he could study her face. “What—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his question. The other police officers came storming into the building, guns at the ready despite the fact that there was no more commotion coming out of the hotel. After all, it wasn’t as though there were other guests that were being disturbed. Once they all started taking stock of the situation, their guns disappeared back into their holsters as well. A few of them started peppering Takeshi with questions, although they didn’t seem as enraged about it all as Kristin had been. They stole his attention just long enough for Kristin to glean what she thought she needed from the scene and slip out without him noticing or being able to stop her.

Not only were Tak’s plans for the night effectively ruined by the men who stormed the hotel with every intention to kill him, now he also had Kristin’s words rattling around the inside of his skull like pinballs. She finished his sentence with no hesitation and what was bothering him the most was that he couldn’t say with absolute certainty if he said something while he was high out of his mind or not. He must’ve. There was no other way she would’ve known, no other reason. Or, at least, there would’ve been no other reason that felt at all feasible. The thought crossed his mind, but, no, there was no way that was possible. He’d had too many things happen to him too quickly after getting spun up again, that was all. Morning would come around and he’d had a perfectly good reason for all of it, one that didn’t make him feel insane.

The next time he saw her, she had the same air of confidence about her that she always did. He kept his expression neutral, not wanting her to know that he’d been turning her words over in his head ever since she’d spoken them. He tried to come off as impassive but he could feel the anticipation tightening in his chest, questions that he couldn’t ask and answers that he was in no position to get. He managed to keep his curiosity tamped down until he was dismissed by Bancroft’s lawyer, another situation that had more questions than answers.

He trailed Kristin out, taking no time at all to catch up to her. He was walking alongside her but he wasn’t looking at her. “Gonna need a couple minutes of your time, Lieutenant.”

She forced herself not to look at him either. “As much as I would love to give you a couple minutes of my time, Kovacs, I need to keep looking into who tried to kill you. You know, the thing that you asked me to do about two fucking minutes ago.”

He grabbed the side of her arm and pushed her into the next alleyway that they came across. She started to protest until she felt her back hit the brick wall behind her. He purposely invaded her space, bodies close but not quite touching. He looked down at her, not letting the anger in her eyes unnerve him.

She glared up at him. “What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Who are you?” he asked, voice low.

“What?”

“Who—”

“I fucking heard you.” She pushed him away and he gave in, not that she pushed with that much force but he figured maybe it would help get some answers. “You know who I am, Kovacs.”

 “No, I don’t. But you seem to know an awful fucking lot about who I am.”

She could see it in his eyes that he was skirting dangerously close to the truth. He would’ve already gotten there if he hadn’t allowed himself to put up a barrier of thinking that there was such a thing as an impossible outcome. Apparently being on ice for a couple centuries dulled the don’t expect anything so that you’re prepared for everything part of their training. Too bad Quell wasn’t around to chastise him for it—he’d undoubtedly enjoy it a lot more coming from her.

“That’s because it’s my fucking job.” She side-stepped, glad that he didn’t make any move to stop her. “Which, I’m trying to go do so that maybe you won’t have another group of mercenaries coming after you.”

“Not gonna keep following me around just in case?” He followed her. “What if—”

“Just call the precinct like everyone else in Bay City,” she told him dismissively.

“Right,” he replied with a chuckle.

Even though he couldn’t see the annoyed look on her face, Kristin was certain that he knew it’s how she looked anyway. “You work your case, if that’s what you want to call it. And I’ll work mine.”

She felt the distance between them growing as he stopped but she kept walking on. He called after her, a smart remark about seeing her soon. He was right, of course. Until they put Takeshi back in storage there was no way that she was going to be able to just keep avoiding him, not with Ryker’s sleeve on the line.

While she knew that there was no getting out of seeing him again, she certainly didn’t expect to see him before the day was out. She definitely didn’t expect him to show up at her apartment door, banging on the dense metal of it like he was a cop with a warrant.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Kovacs?” she asked, too tired to even sound properly annoyed.

“Found out some interesting news today,” he said, brushing past her and into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. He strode down the stairs, taking stock of the place as he went. “Some things that made the picture a whole lot fucking clearer on who you are and what the fuck you’ve been doing.”

Her blood ran cold for a moment. She went down the stairs slower than necessary, thinking maybe it was going to buy her some time. Tak was standing in the middle of the kitchen, palms flat against the top of the island as he leaned against it. His eyes kept darting around the room, taking as much of it in as possible, but they always came back to Kristin.

“I knew it,” he said with a shake of his head once she finally crossed the threshold into the kitchen. “I knew there had to be a reason you were so interested in all of this. And I was right.”

“Were you?” she asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as she could.

“Yeah.” He let himself return to a fully upright position, taking the few small steps to collapse the distance between them. He stared down at her. “When were you gonna tell me that they spun me up into your boyfriend?”

“Ryker is not my boyf—”

“What the fuck, Ortega?”

“What would it have mattered, hm? What would it have changed?”

“Well it would sure fuckin’ explain why so many extra people have it out for me. Can’t imagine cops with records like Ryker’s are exactly known for having a lot of friends.”

“Like I said,” she grit out, “it didn’t matter—wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Bullshit. You wouldn’t have cared about an Envoy running loose in your city if he wasn’t running around wearing your partner.”

He still hadn’t put those pieces of the puzzle together. Maybe finding out who his sleeve was, the relationship to her, maybe all of that was enough to sate his curiosity about why she was so invested in him. And sure, that was definitely a large part of it. The other part of it was going to make itself reckoned with sooner rather than later—Kristin could feel it deep in her gut. She could chalk it up to Envoy intuition but really at that point it was just common sense.

She paused those thoughts when remembered that she was in the middle of an argument. “That’s not true.”

“Wouldn’t be a priority of yours, though.”

“You don’t know that.”

He retreated farther back into the kitchen, rooting around to get his hands on something, anything that had alcohol in it. “So, what’s Ryker’s deal?” he asked, his head practically shoved into her fridge. “What makes him so special that you’ll run around the city to—”

“He’s my partner,” she said sharply. “It’s what you do for your partner.” She stepped so that she could lean back against the island. “Not that I’d expect you to understand that.”

“Why’s that?” he asked when he found a bottle of clear liquor on the counter. He opened it while he waited for her to answer, pulling a face when he wafted the scent of the alcohol. It’d still do the trick.

She couldn’t give her honest answer, one born from information about the people they were before. She watched him helplessly look through cupboards in an attempt to find a glass. She could’ve made it easier but she was getting a mildly twisted joy out of watching him go through the small struggle. “Being worried for someone else doesn’t seem like it’s your strong suit. Envoy compartmentalization, right?”

He finally found a glass, setting it down on the countertop with a surprising amount of care considering how tired and annoyed he was. He didn’t say anything as he proceeded to pour a hefty serving into it. Bringing the glass to his lips, he downed almost all of it in one go before setting the glass back down with a clatter, a scant amount of liquor still swirling at the bottom.

He let out a sharp exhale as the lingering burn from the alcohol in his throat subsided. “You don’t know anything.”

She wished she knew how to tell him just how wrong he was. Since she didn’t know just how to do that, she settled for, “You’re not as special as you think.”

He finished off what little was left in his glass, leaving it empty on the counter beside the bottle as he went back so that he was standing next to her. She was leaning with her back pressed against the island but he came and stood so that he was facing it again. Instead of placing his hands on top of it, he leaned so that his forearms rested there instead. He clasped his hands, staring at them instead of the countertop as he felt Kristin’s eyes studying him.

“Bet you didn’t talk like that to Ryker.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not him, so I guess it doesn’t matter, right?”

He turned and looked at her. “Make it sound like it’s so easy to separate it out.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Right.”

Despite the instinctive urge to make another snarky comment, he stayed silent. He unclasped his hands, letting his fingertips drum against the smooth surface of the island. It wasn’t a habit that was his own, just the sleeve’s reaction to nicotine withdrawal. He never personally cared for smoking, and if he thought that his stint in this sleeve was going to be a long-term one he would’ve thought about putting in the effort to quit. That just seemed like too much work for too little payoff at the moment.

Kristin heard the familiar tapping of his fingers before she turned to see it. She hated that Elias smoked, always chided him about it. And she knew that Tak’s draw to the nicotine was because of the sleeve, not because of any intrinsic desire. Because of that she was perfectly aware of the fact that she shouldn’t encourage him, but it almost felt like a freebie given the circumstances. She wouldn’t have to tell Elias—he’d never know if she didn’t say anything.

Without a word, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from the back of the top drawer of the island. Elias didn’t think she knew about it, not that it was any great hiding spot.

Takeshi looked quizzically back and forth between her and the pack of smokes. From the second he got spun up all she and everyone else had been doing was chastising him for smoking. It felt like a trick.

She gave the pack a slight shake. “If it’s offered, take it,” she said passively.

His eyes narrowed instantly, his entire body tensing. “What?”

“Take it,” she repeated, “before I change my mind.”

She watched the conflict on his face and chose not to say anything. If he had a question he could ask it, if he had a thought he could share it. But she was done trying to pull information out of him—Tak and Ryker. He was the one who showed up on her doorstep, after all.

“So when you said that I knew you,” he said as he reached and took the pack from her, fingers curling around it and the lighter pinned to the back of it, “you meant that the guy riding my sleeve before me knew you. That any reaction, pull or push, I felt about you had nothing to do with me and everything to do with Ryker.”

She watched him put a cigarette between his lips and spark it to life. She raised her eyebrows, partially because she was surprised by how much she enjoyed watching him do it, but also because she was surprised at how much work he was putting into finding the wrong answer.

Finally, she shrugged when his gaze landed back on her. She watched the smoke curl out from between his lips. “Something like that.”

“What was he like?”

Kristin ignored how he referred to Ryker in the past tense as she chuckled, wondering if he really had any interest in Elias at all or if he just wanted to try and glean something more about her by watching how she spoke about him. Regardless, she decided that she would indulge him in the smallest way possible. “You two would hate each other.” She knew what the follow-up question was going to be so she answered it before he could really ask. “You have the wrong things in common.”

He had an urge to try and get her to elaborate, but he stopped himself. Tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette, he tried to figure out what it was exactly that he really wanted to say to her. He could feel the energy rolling off her in waves. It wasn’t tension, not in the traditional sense. He could feel that there were layers of depth that he hadn’t worked his way into. She was keeping him out. He was stopping himself. He wondered how much of the blame could be put on her, how much of it on him, and how much of it was simply old sleeve memory complicating things for him.

“You must’ve really pissed off Bancroft to get him to do this,” he finally said, gesturing to himself with the hand that was holding the cigarette.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Suddenly the empty glass and nearly full bottle of liquor were looking much more inviting than they had been. “You don’t have a monopoly on pissing people off, Kovacs.”

“Stiff competition,” the rebuttal rolled off his tongue easily before he pulled another drag off his smoke.

“Enough years doing anything and you become a professional, right?”

“How many years is that?” he asked outright, forgoing subtlety because there didn’t seem to be much point to it anymore.

She looked over at him. “Enough.”

“Ortega…” he started and then trailed off. He was scratching at the walls of the truth, could hear it rattling around on the other side. He ground out the butt of his cigarette, funneling his frustration into the action before letting it drop from his fingertips.

“Takeshi.” It was only when she said his full name that she realized how long it’d been since she called him that. Using it to talk about him when he wasn’t around was much different than using it while talking to him. Centuries had passed since the last time she used it so casually with him.

He read it all over her face, too. He could see the way that it felt foreign and familiar all at once. It sounded familiar, too. There was something in the tones of the word, undercurrents in his own name that he recognized even if the voice was different. He stared at her intently, head tilting slightly in thought as he tried to look past what he could physically see. He heard her voice from the alley. “You know who I am.”

His eyes widened just slightly as the realization finally began to crash over him. When he spoke again, there was a certainty to his tone that hadn’t been there before. “Kristin.”

She’d been doing nothing but agonizing over what would happen when he realized who she really was, but now that she could see that he had, all she felt was relief. Her shoulders dropped with the lessening of the weight on them.

“That took you a little too long.” She peeled herself away from him, crossing to the counter where Takeshi had left his glass. She refilled it and drank from it herself. “Still got tunnel vision.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” His voice was tight, but there was still a lingering sense of bewilderment to it.

“Well for one thing I didn’t think it was going to take you so fucking long to figure it out.” She poured more liquor into the glass. She let out a quick, quiet wince as the liquor burned down her throat again. “They don’t know.”

He didn’t need to ask her who they were, or what exactly it was they didn’t know. His time off-stack might have been limited this time around but he knew the danger that being known as an Envoy would put her in. “None of them?”

She shook her head, contemplating a third pour. “None of them.”

“Not even—”

“I said none of them.” The relief was starting to disappear, dread slowly starting to take its place, and she poured herself a third helping to cope.

“You think I’ll say something.” It wasn’t a question.

“I think that there are very few things that you have ever cared about, Tak. I know that Bancroft definitely isn’t on that fucking shortlist.” She paused. “I know that I’m not either—never was.”

She looked over at him and she saw the way that there was a flicker of hope in his eyes when she said that last part. He knew she was right, that even back then she was never someone he paid much mind to. His concern had always been Reileen, and then Quell. Apparently a couple hundred years on ice hadn’t dulled his devotion to the latter. Kristin had a feeling that she knew what he wanted to ask, but she was content to make him actually say it.

To her surprise, he didn’t ask anything. “You haven’t heard anything,” he stated.

She shook her head. “No. But I’ve never gone looking.” She could feel the tension in the room thicken at that. “It was a miracle that I made it out. I wasn’t going to waste that by—”

“It wouldn’t have been a waste.”

“Not to you,” she snapped. “You were Quell’s favorite—of fucking course you would’ve gone looking for her. I was just another Envoy. Dispensable. Part of what was offered.” She sighed, forcing herself not to pour another drink. “I managed to survive so I did what we do best. I blended in.”

“Kristin Ortega,” he said her name in its totality, exploring each letter of it with fresh eyes and ears now that he knew who she was.

“Not a far cry from before, no?”

He shook his head. “No.” There were so many things that he could have, and probably should have, asked her, but in that moment he didn’t care about any of it. He easily collapsed the distance so that he was beside her again. He looked at the way her hands were wrapped tightly around the edge of the counter. He copied her position, only his grip wasn’t vice-like the way that hers was. Their pinkies nearly touched. “If we’d been better friends back then, would you have said something?”

That got a scoff out of her that dissolved into a laugh. “There’s no lifetime where the two of us are friends, Kovacs.”

“Not even in this sleeve?” It was teasing, but not cruel.

She turned her head, still having to look up slightly to meet his eyes even though he was leaning onto the counter. “The sleeve was never the problem.”

“This is probably my best shot though, right?”

She smiled and it was genuine even through the exhaustion. Maybe all the liquor was catching up to her. “Probably.”

Neither of them moved. In the thick silence of the apartment, they could each hear the other breathing. They knew enough to know where it could so easily go. It wouldn’t be anywhere good, at least not long-term. But what did long-term even mean for them anymore? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. There was that unspoken mutual understanding, after all, that they were each looking for someone in the other that they weren’t ever going to find. He might’ve been wearing his sleeve but Takeshi was never going to be Elias. And Kristin might’ve lived through the same hardships and lived to tell the tale, she might’ve known the history and the fight, but she wasn’t ever going to be Quell. They looked at each other and saw the truth, but they were both still pining after delusions.

Tak’s hand moved a fraction of an inch, the movement smooth as it caused his hand to brush against hers. She let out a short breath and he could smell the alcohol on it. Her lips parted slightly, like she was going to say something. Maybe she was going to say it was a bad idea, maybe she was going to send him home. Whatever she had been planning to say, he saw it in real time as it fell by the wayside.

She pulled her hand away from his only to reach and place it on the back of his head instead, pulling him closer. His body moved of its own accord. Some of it was just the natural motions of things, but there was also the familiarity of his sleeve and hers, chemical reactions that were innate that he had no control over. For a moment he fought it on the principle of it all, but then he felt the hunger in her, every movement of her lips and tongue against his a taunt to get him to reciprocate in kind.

So he did, grabbing her and placing her up on the counter with ease. She looped her legs around his waist as his grip tightened on her sides. He leaned into her, bodies pressed as tightly together as they could be with the barrier of their clothes still between them. If he wanted to, he could chalk his eagerness up to too many years on ice, an abundance of hormones in a sleeve that had been in the tank, body mechanics operating outside of his control. He could’ve said any and all of those things and none of them would’ve been a lie, per se. But as his hand slid towards the button of her jeans, he knew that the full truth was much, much simpler than that—they were both just taking what was offered.

[sapphire-weapon]

Aeon fans often refer to the words of voice actors to confirm that this is canon. for example, I was given the argument that nick told me how he was forced to say "I love you" in the scene when ada falls. of course there is no proof, because he said it on some ghost stream. But even if he did, could it be just to get emotions on nick? like to make his voice break and sound more realistic? and in general is there any point in trusting voice actors so zealously? I'd like to hear your opinion.

see they can't even fucking keep their story straight, because i've seen aeon fans say that he was told to just think in his head "tell me that you love me" in order to evoke that emotion.

i've talked about this before, but you can only take voice actors' words seriously insofar as they're talking about objective facts of things that happened. you can't read into them, because they're just told things in order to evoke a mood, not to establish writing details.

something that nick said to be taken at face value: he and stephanie panisello (claire's VA) were told to act like they had awkward crushes on each other and didn't know what exactly to say to each other during the fence scene in RE2make

what you CANNOT ASSUME/EXTRAPOLATE FROM THAT: the directors intended for leon and claire to have a mutual crush

something that nick said to be taken at face value: both he and mike kovac (krauser's VA) played up the relationship between krauser and leon as being legitimately homoerotic and everyone in the studio was kind of in on it

what you CANNOT ASSUME/EXTRAPOLATE FROM THAT: the performance directors let them do this because that was the intended message from the writing staff about the characters' relationship

[coconutstars]

Jealous

Pairing: Takeshi Kovacs + reader summary: Tak finds your jealousy very charming. A/N: Ta-daa!? I don’t think I've ever published two fics so close to each other. Anywho, here’s a quick fic. As per usual it’s not proofed. Also, it’s very late so you know... the quality may be a little... ishy. ENJOY. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Go to hell” You pushed your way passed Tak and made your way into the luxurious bathroom at the Raven hotel. You were livid. You couldn’t believe Tak had stood there, talking to that woman, smiling, and laughing like he was seeing an old friend.

Miriam Bancroft. The woman who had single-handedly manipulated the one and only, Takeshi Kovacs into sleeping with her. She’d used him like a pawn in a twisted game of chess. She was loathsome. A piece of garbage. That’s why it’d infuriated you so greatly the way Tak had interacted with her. That he then had the audacity to act like you were the one overreacting was absolutely infuriating.

“Will you calm down?” Tak begged, following you into the bathroom, leaning his broad frame against the doorway. “I was just saying hi. That’s all”. You looked up and held his gaze in the round- framed mirror. “Just saying hi!? Give me a break. I saw the way you looked at her.” you sputtered, your eyes narrowing in anger. 

Surprisingly, Tak broke out in a laugh which pissed you off even more. “The way I looked at her?” He stood up straight and walked over to you, his strong arms encircling your waist. “How exactly did I look at her?”  he asked, his gaze still latched on to yours.  “don’t even start” you glared, spinning around to face him. “You know what I’m talking about”

Tak knitted his eyebrows together, processing the situation, then broke out in an amused grin “Are you... jealous, angel?” “oh fuck off” You hissed through gritted teeth. Although, the truth was, you were jealous. Miriam was older, sexier, and a Meth. She had everything, and everyone, wrapped around her manicured little finger.

Frustrated, you wriggled out of his grip and made your way into the bedroom. You steered your steps towards the door but only made it halfway there before Tak grabbed ahold of your arm and spun you around. “Believe it or not” he said, walking forward with you still in his arms. You tried to wriggle out, but he quickly boxed you in towards the wall. “I have-” he searched your gaze. When you didn’t instantly look up at him, he placed a finger under your chin and made you look at him. “more important people in my life than Miriam Bancroft” There was something in his gaze and voice. A gentility and love that made all your anger and jealousy melt away. Your face softened. “Yeah?” Tak said, pressing his forehead to yours “We good?”  You let out a breath and leaned your head back against the wall, nodding lightly. “we’re good.

Slowly, he moved his lips down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. “good” he mumbled, the vibrations of his voice ghosting against your skin, sending a warm shiver down your spine. You could feel him grin before eventually pressing his lips down softly, peppering your skin with feather light kisses. “Tak…” you whispered, curling your fingers in his hair, and pulling his head back slightly. “Yes, angel?” he asked, moving his lips up to your face, his kisses still teasingly light.

“you’re mine” it was meant to come out a statement rather than a question but there was a certain insecurity in your voice. “Right?” For a moment he pulled back, his gaze latching on to yours. Then his lips curved into a side smile.  “right” he whispered against your skin.

“And you’re mine”

[acheronist]

10 songs / 10 people tag game <3 tagged by @moorishflower and tbh i am afraid i dont know ten people TO tag in games like this anymore but i’ll deal with that once the song list part is done. I’m just gonna put my shit on shuffle and pick my fav songs as they come

1. Separate and ever deadly / the last shadow puppets. this band will always be boris/theo coded to me unfortunately

2. Sunday / death valley girls. I just found out about this album really recently but i like it. Its like if a 60s girl group from california could kick the shit out of morrissey

3. Taking pictures of you / the kooks. Top 5 most romantic albums ever imo but i also have chronic pisces venus disease so a lot of the time i think my ideals about romance shouldnt be trusted

4. The cold blooded murder of deputy vilmos kovacs / grand budapest hotel original soundtrack. I DONT WANNA TALK ABOUT IT !!!!! This movie is everything to me.

5. Heat waves / snail mail. This song and mv combo is such a win for me personally as a lesbian hockey enjoyer and also a summer heat disliker

6. Illuminations / bb brunes. Ah yes my french alt rock indulgence has arrived to the tag game

7. Now that i found you / carly rae jepsen. I know ever crj song is a masterpiece of pop music but this one especially is so 🤌

8.wow i was just thinking i can’t believe depeche mode hasn’t shown up on this list yet and then shuffle hit me with world in my eyes. Amazing stuff.

9. Woe / say anything. i always forget how fucking good this album is honestly. You listened to fall out boy in middle school and i was listening to … is a real boy we are not the same

10. All i want / the cure. hell yeah baby lets GO

Ignore or play along if you want 🖤 @gfapplication @godturnmeintoaflower @svechkin @girldaddy @saintdetroit @petrichoriess @lakevida @whitenikes @thrvrnd @brightmouth

[bells-of-black-sunday]

Three sharp knocks hit the front of their door while he stood in plain view of the peephole, this was someone new. Glass skin and white hair with darkened roots - calm grey eyes scanning the frame of the door curiously until it opened and his pretty face lifted up to meet Tarhos'; he seemed shocked at the man's height! He had the same eyes as Haru, noting his descent and rosey lips. A handsome young man who appeared to be around the same age as the tattoo artist; nondescript clothing - normal. Or enough so.

"Haha - Is this the residence of Mr. Kovacs? I apologize, I think this was left at my apartment by accident."

The man offered up a box with a shipping label for "Haruko Nakasone" and "Tarhos Kovacs" - all of the way from out of town and out of state; covered with a few of Hina's signature sunflower stickers. His hands were sculpted and immaculately taken care of, they nearly gleamed from a fresh application of lotion. The stranger watched him for a moment before his stare flicked downward to reveal the white's above his iris; his lips curling ever so slightly when Bonnie appeared beside Tarhos. Her elderly body shuddered next to her adoptive father, pressing close to his leg with lowered ears and a low, yet somehow timid, growl.

"Ah ... She probably smells my cat, I'll just place this here." And with that, he was already walking down the hallway towards the elevator; his figure relaxed as he strode over to the doors and stepped inside. A pleasant grin was offered back to Tarhos from the distance, calling down just as the doors started to close,

"By the way! Say Hi to Haru for me, would you?"

modern

Haru was taking a nap, not something unusual for him though Tarhos couldn't help how amused he was by the way his boyfriend whined and wanted him to stay in bed all day with him. It was tempting, but... he has some things he wanted to do. Like take a shower or clean the kitchen, nothing better to do on a day off than get caught up on chores. The bodyguard lifted his head confused by the knock on his door... he wasn't expecting anything. He checked his phone, no texts from Robin or any of Haru's friends telling him they were visiting. He sighs walking to their bedroom to grab his knife holder just as a precaution before moving to the door and checking.

Tarhos had a sinking feeling, but why did he? The guy was small, unassuming... reminded him of Danny if he had white hair, but not an arrogant aura around him like the few times he'd met Ji-Woon. The bodyguard opened the door not even trying to hide the annoyance on his face, "What do you want?" Bonnie growling is what really made him know just exactly who this was, like her very judge of character made the connection click between what Haru had told to him. How he had held him while he sobbed just thinking he seen the very man before him.

"Ah ... She probably smells my cat, I'll just place this here."

She. Yeah it was definitely him even before the last remark that made the very blood boil in his veins. What a fucking jack ass- It took every fiber of his being not to just chase after him and beat him to a pulp then and there. Be done with it, but... the rational part of his brain knew this is exactly what that freak was trying to do. Make him mad. Intimidate them. Get in Haru's head again and make him relive every awful thing he did. This was intimidation pure and simple. He knw it well enough, he'd be stupid not to with who he worked for.

How something as simple as letting someone know you know where they live really got in their head. Tarhos huffed pacing the kitchen as he stared at the package, it has Hina's stickers on it, but she would never do this as a fucked up prank. She was as terrified of that man as Haru is. How was he even going to explain this to him...?

[chrsitophwaltz]

niko’s first day of training for season 19/20 (with new coach hansi!) ❤️

[wardenparker]

Killer Writing - chapter 2

Dave York x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After divorcing Carol so she could marry her soulmate, Dave York threw himself into his work. There is no way he could have predicted that the unexpected collateral damage on an op would turn out to be his soulmate. Now all he can do is keep you safe, and try his best to get you to not hate him as the two of you try to navigate a blooming relationship that started out with threats and a mean right hook.  

Rating: Mature Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: *Blanket content warning for self-esteem, self-image, and weight issues.* Threats of violence, canon typical danger, teasing Dave deserves to wear a warning label. Summary: Personal truths are revealed as you and Dave come to terms with the fact that you’ll be spending quite a bit of time in close quarters for the foreseeable future.  Notes: We are off to the races with this one, kids! The team may be giving Dave shit, but his concerns seem to be genuine. I feel the beginnings of some chemistry stirring... 🥽🥼🧪

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

You shouldn’t have been listening. You know that. But if he was going to plan something horrible to do with you, you’d rather know it’s coming. But it sounded like the opposite. Like he actually intended to protect you and let you go. No honor amongst thieves, but apparently there was amongst killers. But being with him? 

You chew on your lip. The idea caused…mixed signals in your body. Physically? Hell yes. You couldn’t have asked for someone more your type unless it was Oberyn Martell himself. But…how could you let him touch you after what you know he’s done? What he does? You pinch your eyes shut. No, you could not rescue him from his life of amoral judgements. Don’t be dumb. He is who he is. This is not a romance novel. 

“About that…” Dave tenses up at the hesitancy in Kovac’s voice. “The target apparently intended to make her the fall guy.” His knuckles turn white around the phone, listening to the news that an account in the Canary Isles has been opened under your name and money deposited into it. Not much, just enough for them to believe that you stole the formula. “Son of a bitch.” He hisses. “Find out if anyone else knows about that account, besides the buyer.”

“It might take some time to clear up.” Comes the reply. “More than a few days.”

Dave sighs. “Okay.” Running his hand through his hair, he thinks about his options. “I’ll need to get back to her apartment. Let her pack up some things.” Kovac snorts and makes porno sounds, making Dave huff. “No, as much as I wouldn’t mind spending the entire time naked in bed, I very seriously doubt she would want that.”

“Enjoy the vacation.” Kovac tells him, obviously not believing a word of what he’s saying. 

“Fuck off. Find out if anyone else is a threat to my soulmate. You know what to do.” Dave says before he disconnects the call.

You slide away from the door as quietly as humanly possible, back to the spot on the couch where you had been sitting, your favourite book in your lap like you had never moved. 

…As much as I wouldn’t mind spending the entire time naked in bed… His voice echoes in your head making you shiver involuntarily. It’s just the soulmate connection you tell yourself, training your eyes back on your book. 

Dave thinks about going back out into the living room, just to be around you. To be able to look at you and memorize your features, but he decides against it. You would be more comfortable away from him, you’ve made that clear. Sighing, he boots up his computer to answer some emails and mark the job as complete.

 The morning passes in silence. Dave never re-emerges from wherever he went for that phone call and you never move on the couch, even when the adrenaline wears off and you realize you’re exhausted from nearly being murdered. Lying down on this man’s couch for a nap was not an option. You’re fairly certain you won’t sleep at all while you’re here. Not the way things look right now. 

You don’t hear movement at all until sometime around midday, when a chair rattling in the other room pulls you away from your book.

Dave groans, standing and stretching before he goes back into his bedroom to change into appropriate clothes to go out in. Dressed in simple jeans and a Henley, he comes back out into the living room. 

“You could be here for a while, so we are going to go to your place to get some clothes. Stuff you want.” He tells you conversationally. “Pick up some more groceries. If I give you my phone to pick out food you like, will you call the cops?”

“You left me alone all morning,” you point out, shaking your head that no, you won’t call the cops. “If I was going to run, I would have by now.” It’s odd, when you realize you mean it. That you had hours upon hours when you could have made a mad dash and you hadn’t. Maybe it was the phone call. Maybe it was the way he was so fierce to the man on the other end about protecting and not forcing you. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but still: You hadn’t run. 

“It’s a good thing you didn’t.” Dave sighs, and sits down on the edge of the sofa. “We don’t know exactly who all is going to be looking for you.” He doesn’t want to tell you, but you need to know. “Lisa– she set you up as the fall guy for selling the prototype. You would have been blamed when everything came to light.”

For more than a few seconds you just sit there, staring at him. He can’t be serious. Lisa wouldn’t do that. She had been grooming you to be her second in command for the last few months. She had been sharing extra details of the project with you. She had— you groan, your face falling. She had been setting you up. 

The sympathy on his face speaks volumes, when you manage to force yourself to glance up at him, and you’re not sure if things would be easier if he had just killed you or if you were thankful he was protecting you. Either way, this is where you were staying. Apparently for the foreseeable future. 

“I’m going to lose my job,” you mumble finally, staring through the man in front of you into nothing. “I’ll be unemployable…that’s it…I’m done…”

“We are taking care of it.” Dave reaches out and puts his hand on your knee, thankful you don’t jerk away from him. “Anyone after you will be silenced and we took the evidence from the lab when we made it look like a robbery.”

You don’t like the sound of silenced, but you swallow your concern and nod. His hand is large, covering your entire knee, and you stare at it blankly for a second but don’t move. He’s still in charge, even if he’s trying to be comforting. “So…you’re stuck with me for a while.” What the hell kind of phrasing is that? “How are we going to go to my place if I can’t be seen?” Yes, focus on logistics. That’s good.

“We can either make a list and have the team pack for you.” He pauses, sure that you don’t want the other men to go through your panty drawer any more than you would want him to. Although his cock twitches at the idea of finding out what kind of panties you wear. “Or you lay down in the back of the seat on the drive over and we will be cautious.”

You exhale deeply, a forced and anxious sigh. “Please don’t make me get in the trunk again,” you ask, letting your arms rest on your thighs an inch or two from his hand which is still on your knee. “I can lie down or hide or whatever, just…that was…” Terrifying. It was terrifying. “I’ll do what you tell me to. I would just rather never do that again.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes quietly, brushing his thumb over your knee cap. “We needed to get away in a certain timeframe and couldn’t waste time arguing.” He hates how small your voice gets when talking about that. Doesn’t like the idea of you being so scared that you shut down. “I won’t make you do that again.”

Nodding vaguely, you swallow thickly before clearing your throat, trying to get your voice back. His hand is burning through you, making the rest of you feel hot and making you shiver at the same time. It’s not scary, which is confusing as hell. His touch is…calming. And exciting. And nerve wracking. And it’s not making this any easier.

“I don’t wear hats,” you offer, remembering he was wearing one earlier. You’ll do what you’re told, including hiding. “A hat, a big scarf, and one of your jackets. I won’t look like me even getting out of the car…”

Dave nods. “We can do that.” He murmurs before he stands, a slight creak to his knees and he offers you his hand. You stare up at him as if he’s grown a second head and he’s about to pull his hand back - feeling self conscious - when you reach out and take it, letting him help you up.

Skin to skin for the first time since fighting him earlier, you almost hate yourself for the thrilling way your skin tingles. It’s just the soulmate connection, you remind yourself. And it’s just you being ridiculous. Just the side effects of never having touched a man in any sort of intimacy. Even weird circumstances would give you weird reactions. 

“Do you trust me to use your phone?” You ask softly, remembering he you wanted to pick out food, but assuming he’ll be ordering it so you don’t have to risk being in public. Either that or have one of his team shop for him.

He doesn’t remove his hand, keeping hold of yours and loving how soft it is. “I trust you.” He says seriously, staring into your eyes. “Otherwise you would have been brought to a safe house, instead of my apartment.”

“O-okay…” You can’t seem to keep eye contact with him, looking down at your own hand in his but somehow you don’t take it back. When was the last time you even held hands with someone? It seems impossibly intimate for such a simple gesture. He trusts you. He’s trying to protect you. He’ll let you go again when it’s safe. Your mind races, grasping at the first thought you can. “I can cook sometimes,” you blurt out, only realizing after you say it how stupid it sounds. “I mean…if I’m going to be taking up space and eating your food…I can at least help?”

For the first time since you’ve been in his apartment - his life - Dave smiles. A genuine smile, curving his lips and making his eyes light up at the idea of someone preparing a meal for him. “If you want.” He nods. “My kitchen is yours.”

“Okay,” you say again, nodding this time and glancing up at him to find him beaming down at you. Holy shit… Your mouth runs dry. He’s gorgeous when he smiles…

He tugs you towards the door and grabs one of his beanies and a jacket. “Here.” He hands it to you, reluctantly letting go of your hand. Remembering that this is your idea, you tug the hat on and slip into the jacket, which is gratefully baggy. You flip the collar up and shove your hands in the pockets, ready to follow him. To do what you’re told. And maybe stay safe. You have no idea at this point.

The elevator ride down is quiet. Dave frowns as the doors open to the parking garage, looking around before he lets you off, he walks over to a newer sedan with a dark tint and opens the door. “Backseat please.” He asks, opening the back door.

You lie down in back, remembering all his instructions, and tuck your head into your elbow to hide your fear the best you can. None of this seemed real to you until right now - the danger seems unreal to the point of exaggeration, but nothing about how he is going about this is an exaggeration.

“Do you have any animals?” Dave asks suddenly, thinking about having to leave an animal in your apartment. “We can crate them up and bring them by to my house.”

“No,” you shake your head even though he can’t see you as he turns over the engine and pulls out of his parking space. “I can’t even keep plants alive.” 

“Okay. I want you to pack your clothes. At least two weeks worth.” He tells you. “Laptop, whatever you want to keep you occupied.” Since he had told you the danger you are in he doubted you would go to the police and say he had kidnapped you.

Your eyes widen at the idea of two weeks and you’re glad he can’t see you as he drives. “Okay.” It seems to be the thing you say to him the most, loud enough for him to hear you up front. He lives clear across the city from you so the drive will take a while, and you start to make a mental list of what to grab. Figuring he won’t want to stay at your place longer than necessary, you’re glad you did laundry last night so you have all your favorite things clean.

******

Dave keeps checking the mirrors, a habit that is well served. Constantly rotating between the mirrors and checking to see if anyone is trailing you, he makes his way across town and pulls up next to your building, as close as he can get without parking in the handicap parking and calling attention to himself. “We are here. I have your keys. Keep your head down and just keep moving.” He cautions you.

By some miracle the lobby is mostly empty and you easily avoid catching anyone’s attention, heading into the elevator unnoticed and taking the short ride to your floor. Your door is only two over from the elevator and you follow Dave inside with a sigh of relief. Getting inside quickly seemed to please him, and that is reassuring somehow. “I’ll be fast,” you tell him, moving past to scoop your laptop and power cord up from your reading chair where you left them out last night.

Dave looks around the apartment, getting an insight into your personality. You are different from him, and he smirks when he spies seven coffee cups scattered on surfaces around the apartment. He huffs in amusement at how different his soulmate is from him as he starts to gather them up.

Standing in the middle of your bedroom, you shake off the intense need to just crawl into your bed and hide. Instead you pull out the travel bag you use when you go to see your dad every few months and pull open your closet door. Two weeks worth of clothes will add up quickly and you do your best to tuck everything in neatly for no other reason than your sanity. 

Shoving your slippers in the bag’s side pocket, you move over to your bureau. Underwear. Bras and panties. Why the fuck were you staring at your underwear drawer like it matters what you pack? It doesn’t. It absolutely doesn’t matter. And you hate yourself for reaching for the black panties and matching bra that you’d bought for yourself as a treat. They would sit at the bottom of your bag until laundry day, you tell yourself. When you are doing laundry, you would wear this set. No other time. 

Coming back into the living room, you’re stunned to see Dave at your sink with a stack of discarded mugs beside him in the dish strainer as he rinses off one more. “Are you…” you can’t help but smile. It’s almost endearing in a weird way. “Are You tidying up?”

“You can’t have these sitting out.” He rationalizes. “You will have bugs.”

“Right.” The weird little moment evaporates and you move to pull your earbuds and a few other tidbits off your desk to shove into your laptop bag. “I’ll be ready to go in a minute.” The only thing left is toiletries, and that is easy. It’s not like you would be wearing elaborate makeup while you were in hiding.

He gets the feeling you are annoyed at his practicality but he just doesn’t want you to have a mess to clean up. His first op overseas after the split from Carol, he had left a trash bag in the can. It had taken months to get rid of the ants.

“One more thing,” you tell him and disappear into the bathroom. All the things you need are in plain sight and you have your toiletries bag in hand in under two minutes. Out in the main room, you catch Dave bagging up your trash and shake your head a little. Compulsively tidy. Called it. 

“I think I’m ready.” You shove the toiletries into your big bag and look around. Goodbye, apartment. Well, at least all the bills are paid by automatic draft.

“Okay.” Dave opens the door and looks out before he holds the door open wider for you to exit. “Here are the keys.” He tells you, handing them to you and trusting you not to run back into the apartment and barricade yourself inside. “I would do it, but I need to keep a hand free.” He doesn’t mention why, the ‘for pulling my gun out’ is implied.

In minutes, Dave is loading your things into the trunk of his car and you’re climbing into the back again, bracing yourself for the half hour ride back to his apartment. Somewhere between your apartment door and now, the thought really hits you. He’s really helping you. In a very backward way. If you were arrested for intending to sell the prototype, that was treason. It was only your word against all the faked evidence that apparently existed. Your options are two weeks in Dave’s apartment or 15-20 in a maximum security prison, and Bedford Hills SuperMax isn’t exactly on your list of must-see locations before you die.

The choice is easy.

Dave feels better once he is on the road. Reaching back and handing you his phone. “Go ahead and put the order in for the groceries. Just have them delivered to the apartment.” He decides that it would be better to get you back to the apartment. “Order whatever you want, don’t skimp.”

Studiously ignoring the warm tingle when Dave’s fingers brush yours, you tap through his grocery app, mindlessly adding a few ingredients for recipes you know you can make well, a good box of tea, and a box of the cereal you eat for breakfast every morning. Not much, but enough to get through without being a nuisance. 

It would be so easy. With his phone in your hand, all you would have to do is dial. 

But he’s your soulmate. And you’ll go to jail. And your fingers tap through the app easily, choosing payment and delivery before clearing your throat. “Done,” you murmur quietly. This is your own fate sealed now. You’ve chosen to stay with him. And now you have to see it through. 

Idiot.

******

Back at his apartment, Dave carries your bag for you. More at ease in his own building, he looks over at where you are nervously chewing on your bottom lip. “I’m going to give you my bedroom.” He tells you, looking back up at the climbing numbers as the elevator car rises up. “I’ll take the couch. You’ll be more comfortable and have privacy.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You reply automatically. It’s going to be weeks and kicking him out of his own bed isn’t exactly keeping your presence to a minimum. “The couch is big. I’ll be okay.” You’ve had worse, certainly, and you can’t see the next few weeks going well anyway. “I don’t want to disrupt your routine anymore than I already am…which is already way more than you need to do for me…”

“Sweetheart,” he looks at you as the doors open. “Take the damn bed. You can sleep in it by yourself, or you can sleep in it with me. Your choice.” He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, just steps off the car and starts striding down the hall.

Blunt, You remind yourself. Dave York is blunt. You hurry to follow him down the hall once you shake yourself out of being surprised, slipping into his front door that he holds out for you. “Sorry,” you mumble sheepishly, hating that you weren’t exactly on his heels like you think he wants you to be. You’re supposed to stay close to him, not stand dazed in the elevator.

“Don’t be sorry.” He murmurs, wondering why you feel the need to constantly apologize. “Consider this your home for now.” He closes the door and flashes you a sardonic grin. “Sorry it’s too uncluttered for you. I’m sure you will change that.”

“Creative minds are messy,” you defend, moving past him to take your bag out of his hand. You may not have a place to unpack, but there are a few little things you can put away.

“Creative minds, huh?” He takes the bag back from you and walks down the hall to the bedroom. “I’ll clean out a couple of drawers for you. There’s room in the closet.” He turns to the chest of drawers and starts opening them to shift clothes around. “What do you create?”

“Um…” You had to go and open your big mouth. You might as well tell him. You’re going to be in his living room with your notebook and research, so he’ll find out eventually. “I write stories.” 

“Really?” He’s curious about that but he doesn’t want to make you shut down. “That’s interesting. I love reading but I don’t think I could do something like that.”

“They’re not impressive or anything,” you shrug, pulling out some clothes from your bag to tuck into the drawer he has emptied for you. “It’s just…I don’t know…an escape. Something different from the Same Old Everyday.” It’s a mystery to you, why he’s so easy to talk to so quickly after this morning. You should still be terrified of him. But the more time you spend around him, the more human he is. The more like an everyday person. Just…kind of intense. And a little sad.

“That’s a good thing.” He transfers his clothes down to the bottom two drawers and leaves you the top two for your clothes. “It’s good to have an escape. I like movies.” He admits. “I have a huge collection on a hard drive.”

“What do you watch?” Later, when he’s not standing right next to you, you’ll transfer your intimates to one of the drawers and hide them under your shirts, pretending you have a little bit of privacy.

“Anything. But I really like sci-fi, or fantasy. Also historical dramas.” Dave rubs the back of his neck and looks around. He shouldn’t be this happy about you filling up two drawers in his dresser, but he is. 

He’s been lonely since he and Carol split up. He can admit that. It was one of the reasons that he pursued her. He knew she wasn’t his soulmate, but he had been lonely. It was right after his second tour overseas and he needed to feel something. He had loved her. Even if he knew it wasn’t that forever kind of love. He had fooled himself into believing that having a soulmate didn’t matter. He changed people’s destinies for a living. 

But you are his soulmate. Even if you wanted nothing to do with him. He would still keep you safe with everything he had. He would make sure you were safe and then he would let you go. 

“I’ll - I’ll let you settle in.” He murmurs awkwardly.

“Have you ever seen Timeline?” You’re developing a habit of blurting things out around him and feeling like an idiot directly afterwards, including right now. Your favorite guilty pleasure movie isn’t exactly fantastic cinema, but it’s amazingly fun and always a guarantee to cheer you up. You find yourself remembering his smile from earlier, wondering if it was something that could happen again. “It’s time travel…so sci-fi and period piece…really silly. The kind of movie that’s better when you can make fun of it with a friend…” A friend. You huff at yourself silently. You’re not his friend. You’re the weird girl he’s stuck with.

Dave stops and turns back around to grin at you. “Absolutely. Let me guess…Gerard Butler, or Paul Walker?” He teases, eyes glinting in mischief.

You flush guiltily, hating being caught in something shallow like drooling over an actor, even though everybody does it. "Gerard Butler," you shrug. "But it's as much the character as it is the actor. Marek is fascinating." And has the best love story in the movie, but you leave that bit out.

He smirks. “It’s the accent, isn’t it?” He asks, slipping into a Scottish brogue that is nearly believable. He doesn’t blame you for liking some actor. The guy’s handsome. He just likes teasing you. 

The embarrassment reaches your ears, burning the tips as you shove your hands in your pockets. "Doesn't hurt..." you mumble honestly.

He chuckles. “Maybe we can watch it tonight with dinner.” He offers, titling his head slightly. “I know you are disappointed I’m who the universe stuck you with, but I’m not all bad.” He pauses for a second before he turns back around and walks out the door to leave you to unpack.

You're left standing in the middle of his room, wondering what the hell is going on as you finish putting away the last of your clothes in private. Your honest lack of experience with flirting just leaves you wondering if he's being nice or doing it on purpose. You have the absolute most fucked-up meet cute in the universe, but somehow...he's nice. And that niceness is completely separate from the way that Henley he's wearing has to stretch to its limits to contain his damn shoulders. 

Shoving your underwear under a layer of shirts, you bring your toiletries to the bathroom and shove them in an empty bit of cabinet so he won't have to stare at your mess. Nothing about this situation makes sense. Nothing at all. But something as simple as a movie with dinner sounds awfully comforting.

“Stop trying to connect with her, dumbass.” Dave hisses to himself when he’s back in the living room. Pulling out his phone to check on the delivery order, he sees that it’s still being shopped. 

After an op are the worst times. Craving a human connection after exploiting his ability to remove himself emotionally from the situation. Now apparently it was bad enough that he is trying to flirt with a woman who wants nothing to do with him

"Dave?" You stick your head out into the living room to find him staring out the window aimlessly. It's the first time you've ever actually said his name out loud and it feels heavy on your tongue. "What...um...what do you normally do? During the day?" Does he have an office to go to? What are you expected to do while he's gone? Does he work from home? Is his routine thrown off just as much as yours? You have no idea.

His brow furrows. “I am officially DIA. I have an office, but I can work remotely.” He answers you honestly. He had just anticipated working from home until this was resolved, his team able to take care of most things for him.

"So no shutting me in the bedroom while you're at the office?" It was meant as a joke but it comes out awkwardly. Suggestive. And suddenly you're afraid that you're overstepping all over again, but trying not to show it.

He snorts. “No, I’ll just tie you to the bed.” It comes out before he can stop himself. Not that he had been thinking about how you would look, spread out on his bed and squirming underneath him while you cried his name in pleasure. Nope. Not at all.

Your eyes widen and you know he's seen it because you can't look away fast enough. You manage to not squeak or make any embarrassing noise of surprise, but you know for sure that your face is burning. What do you even say to that? "Gotta leave one hand free so I can hold a book," you clear your throat, giving yourself away. "Or else you're going to have to read to me." Shut the hell up! What is wrong with you?

That makes him laugh. Not a chuckle, but a full belly laugh. “Believe me sweetheart, if you are tied to my bed, you will be too busy to read.” Dave tells you with a wolffish grin. You might not mean a word of what you are saying, but watching your face express your every thought is fun.

It's the second time he's called you that - sweetheart - and somehow it actually seems endearing instead of condescending. Completely separate from the fact that you feel positively slick between your thighs at the mental image, you can feel your goddamn heart racing. There's no graceful way out of this teasing for you, and he's looking at you like you're his next goddamn meal and you just...combust. You're too off kilter. Too out of your element. And honestly too physically attracted to him to be able to deal with this well. 

"I'm a virgin." You blurt out, completely mortified immediately afterward and flee into the bathroom like an idiot. What the FUCK was that?! Maybe you'd be better off in prison than here after all…

That surprises him. A lot. You are gorgeous and he had assumed that you– “Okay.” Dave walks to the door and taps on it, trying not to imagine how fucking tight you would be or watching the riot of expression ride over your face while you cum. “That’s– that’s okay.” He shrugs even though you can’t see it, unsure of what to say. “I’m not. Sorry. But you don’t need to be embarrassed.”

"Don't be stupid," you groan, loud enough for him to hear through the door. You need a second or two before you can face him. "There's no reason you would be." You exhale slowly, trying to collect yourself, before you crack the door open enough to just see him. "I just...I think you're flirting with me? And I don't really..." God what a fucking idiot you must seem like. 12 hours ago he was abducting you from your office and now THIS? "I'm not good at this. I haven't done it. I..." Your voice drops and so do your eyes. "I decided a long time ago that I wasn't going to bother with anyone who wasn't my soulmate."

 A lot of people save themselves. It isn't unusual. You had decided it on your own, never expecting your person to have made the same decision but satisfied that you were doing what made you comfortable and happy. Now, though? Facing the reality of it? You felt like an idiot schoolgirl who had just told their teacher they hadn't studied for an exam. 

“Oh.” Dave softens at your words, reaching out before he pauses, not stroking your cheek like he had intended. Carol had always liked when he was physically affectionate but maybe you weren’t that way. “I–I’m honored.” He tells you seriously. “I know you wish you hadn’t now. Considering….”

"I don't even know." You hate how small your voice is, but there's nothing you can do about it. You're embarrassed. Even if he says you don't need to be, you are. This whole thing is fucked. "I don't...expect anything," you clarify, letting the door open a little more. "Like I don't think everything is going to magically be a fairy tale or something. But..." With a huff and a shrug, you manage to actually look up at him. A soft and sympathetic expression drawn on his handsome face. "But I think you're more than your job. And if we're going to be sharing space for a while, I think it would make things a lot less awkward if we got to know each other a little?"

“That’s a good idea.” He wants to kiss you, badly. Wants to see if your lips are as soft as they look. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” He means it too. He would tell you everything he possibly could, barring the top secret information.

You pinch your eyes shut for a minute before you push the door open all the way. He doesn't move, and for a second you don't either - an odd stand-off in the doorway of his bathroom. Of all the goddamn stupid impulses in the world, just like all the stupid shit you've blurted out to him today, your mind and body seem to have more control over your actions than your will, and you lean forward to hug him before you can stop yourself. Break the barrier now and make it less awkward, you tell yourself, searching for some logic in the impulse. 

Your arms come around him and Dave groans. The sound rumbling in his chest and his own arms immediately encircle you. Feeling the press of your body against his is a delicious kind of torture, and his cock twitches insistently. Already hard from your confession, it presses against the zipper of his jeans and reminds him how attractive he finds you. “It’s okay.”

"I'm not upset," you realize at the same time the words are coming out of your mouth. For a split second you don't register what the feeling is, until you think about it for a second and practically jump back with the surprise of realizing he's hard for some reason. How did that even happen? "I...I just...I don't know. It felt like the right thing to do? Break the awkward conversation barrier and break the awkward touch barrier..." 

Dave smirks, liking the way that you think. “So by your logic, we should break the awkward kiss barrier too.” He murmurs, eyes darkening slightly at the idea. 

The flash of panic on your face is probably incredibly obvious. Being in your early 30s and never having done anything has made it all seem incredibly daunting as well as incredibly enticing. You know he knows what he's doing. You can tell. It's something in the way he carries himself and the ease that he teases you. But standing awkwardly in the doorway of his bathroom is hardly anywhere near the thousands of versions of your first kiss that you'd imagined. Even if your heart is pounding in your ears thinking about it. "Bathroom isn't exactly...romantic," your whole body burns in pure embarrassment.

Disappointment is something that he’s used to, but this time it’s nearly painful. His eyes shutter, losing their teasing glow, and he gives you a small nod. “I understand.” Of course you wouldn’t want him to kiss you. He takes a step back and is about to say something else when there is a knock on the door. 

His entire demeanor changes. Back straight and eyes suddenly intense and focused, his jaw tight. “Stay here.” He warns you, reaching for the gun that he had set on the dresser before he disappears out of the room towards the front door. 

You slump against the doorframe, facing dropping into one hand. Is it your imagination, or was he disappointed? The whole energy around the two of you had changed in the blink of an eye. Did he actually want to kiss you? Had you just screwed up your only chance at an actual, real first kiss? 

You groan quietly, feeling like an idiot, and listen to the exchange happening in the other room: the girl delivering your grocery order is giggling and obviously flirting with him - something you wouldn’t even feel comfortable with yet, but he probably thrives on. The rustle of bags and giggling goes on for a few minutes, and you find yourself leaving the bathroom to walk the two steps into his bedroom to sit down on the edge of his bed. Awkward kiss barrier You shake your head at yourself and groan again. Idiot.

He decides to give you your space. Get it together, York he tells himself. He shakes his head as he starts to put away the groceries. 

It was amazing that there was a girl that had flirted with him while she was bringing the bags inside and he had little interest beyond being polite. And the woman that wanted nothing to do with him had him tied up in knots. It was the soulmate bond. It had to be. Yes, he was attracted to you. That was very obvious, but he normally never had a problem being told no. It wasn’t like he had never been turned down before. He normally just smiled and backed off, but with you? He couldn’t seem to let it go. Although it seemed like he needed to. 

Ten minutes after the door shuts, you push yourself off of his bed and dig into your travel bag for your slippers - padding out into the kitchen much more comfortably. His face is drawn as he folds up the empty paper bags and the entire light is gone from his demeanor. And it’s your fault. 

“It wasn’t a ‘no’,” your voice is a little on the quiet side so you don’t startle him - hands spines into your jeans pockets once more. “Just…not yet?” Not when I’m eight inches away from a toilet, preferably.

He keeps his eyes on his task, folding the paper neatly to recycle. “I shouldn’t have pushed.” He tells you quietly, his tone low. He’s not angry at you, just more upset that your rejection matters so much. “You don’t need to feel pressured into anything. It won’t happen again.”

There’s a way that he curls in on himself that’s not that different from when you do it yourself. His version is sad and almost self berating, while yours is intense embarrassment and shame. You’re rooted to the spot, still shocked at how your opinion of this man has changed so drastically in 12 hours. But there it is. It has changed. Because of your soulmate connection, probably. 

“It’s my own stupid thing,” you explain quietly. “You wait thirty plus years for your first kiss, you tend to get anxious about it when the opportunity shows up.” 

Finally looking at you, Dave searches your eyes and finds nothing dishonest about your answer. He sees embarrassment, shyness and a touch of shame. He hadn’t realized you hadn’t even kissed anyone before, assuming you had at least done that. He nods seriously. “If you want me to kiss you, just tell me.” He murmurs. “I’ll happily do it, but only if you want.” He pauses, rocking his jaw slightly. “Never apologize for not wanting intimacy. You owe me nothing, not even wearing matching marks.”

Thankfully you manage to not just spit out words this time. You chew on your lip, watching him for any sign of judgment, but there’s none. He just looks serious - which you’re noticing is his default. “I do.” You hear yourself saying, more surprised that you’re saying it than that you mean it. “Want you to, I mean.” He’s your soulmate. You’ve waited your entire life to find him. And even though it was fucked up, it’s still your story. “I’ve just imagined it a million different ways and none of them had me standing next to a toilet…” You huff at yourself. “Too many old movies. Real life doesn’t have a soundtrack and mood lighting.” 

He snorts lightly. “I can understand that.” He smirks slightly at the idea of setting the mood. “You want romance.” He guesses, sighing quietly. “I don’t- it’s not my programmed nature. Flowers, candles, that kind of thing. I normally act.” He fidgets slightly. “Carol– my ex, I showed I cared by filing for divorce and giving her the house.”

“I don’t expect anything from you,” you clarify, though flowers and candles sounds pretty fucking perfect. “I just want you to know that it’s not a ‘no’.” You shrug, knowing that you’re not what he expected, either. You’re very different people, but the universe seems to think that’s a good thing. “I’m just working through my own stupid shit and that’s on me.” There’s the distinct sting of disappointment, knowing that he’s not the sweep-you-off-your-feet type, but you had sort of guessed he wanted from early on. 

“How about we just enjoy tonight?” He offers, thinking about how to make you feel special. He didn’t normally do romance, that didn’t mean he couldn’t. “Have dinner, watch Timeline. Nothing expected. Just the assassin and the girl he kidnapped to save her life?” He flashes you a grin at the description of you and him.

That shouldn’t be charming. That should be horrifying. Terrifying. Fill you with dread. Instead you’re caught up in the dimple that presses into his cheek and your cheeks burn deeply. “Sure,” You nod. “I threw a frozen pizza and some salad stuff into the grocery order…that sounds like dinner and a movie?” Dinner and a movie was something people did on a date and you curse yourself for the phrasing immediately after him saying tonight was supposed to be relaxed.

Dave nods quickly. “That sounds good. If you want- I do have a bottle of wine in one of the cabinets.” He flushes slightly. “Housewarming gift from one of the downstairs neighbors when I moved in. If you drink wine, I rarely do. Makes me sleepy.”

You shrug, taking a few steps toward the kitchen. Toward him. “I’m more of a scotch on the rocks girl,” you admit. “Not very ladylike, I know.”

He grins again. “So the wine stays in the cabinet. There’s scotch and whiskey beside it. You are welcome to it.”

“How about with dinner?” You like that grin. You could get used to that grin.

“That will work.” He feels better. The last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable here for the next week or two.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110

KW: @evyiione @graphitegator @bruxasolta @missredherring @writeforfandoms @sj-draws00

My Masterlist!

[babblydrabbly]

A filthy ask to close down the week—off the top of your head, out of these four characters you write for, Butts vs Boobs, which do they prefer?

Rick Flag, Takashi Kovacs, Digger Harkness, Eddie Brock (or Venom???)

The choice is in your hands! — whichever part of the body they might have a handful of 🤪🤣

[ A/N: Think this goes without saying but first of all, filth ahead. Second of all, I'm terribly biased but I did my best. Tits are tits and I love them all especially all of these himbos what who said that.]

Rick flag x reader | takeshi kovacs x reader | digger harkness x reader | Eddie brock x reader

Some B vs. B headcanons below!

Colonel Richard 'Ass Man' Flag, Jr.

Give him an hour to worship your ass and he'll coax you into going longer.

Loves to palm you in both hands while the two of you kiss. He's surprisingly into making out on the couch when you agree to sit on his lap.

But it's never just kissing for too long. He loves it when you ride him so he can sink his grip into you and fuck you up close and tight.

He admires every little bite or scratch he leaves on you, but his hand prints and red marks on your ass are what please him most.

Really loves the slaps that make you jump and clench around him. He likes to watch your face when he lands the perfect ones.

But for every bruise, he's still the king of aftercare. When you're all splayed and fuck out on your bed, he loves to come over for a little TLC and press kisses against every little mark he's left.

He loves to feel how warm your skin still is against his face.

And while he's down there, how about round three?

The oral fixation isn't limited to just cigarettes.

Always wants to strip your top off first to get his mouth on your neck and the swell of your breasts.

His patience with teasing you is infuriating. Takeshi will lick, kiss, and suck your chest til you're writhing beneath him. He loves to sit back and admire how you look lying down naked on the sheets.

He also loves to get a handful from behind while he's pressing his big body flush to your back as he fucks you. His grip is possessive and bruising and every bit the relentless envoy who can goes hours without stopping.

But in those private moments when he's showing you how vulnerable he is, you can always get him to rest his face on your chest and relax.

He gets as much comfort from the skin to skin contact as he gets aroused. But let's be honest- the hurt/comfort turns into top service nine times out of ten.

Guess where his favorite place to paint you with his come is. (But he's a gentleman. He's more than happy to lick you clean).

Trying to get Digger Harkness to choose one or the other is an insult, frankly.

When Digger Harkness goes in, he goes all in. Tits, ass, he's never going to get enough of either. What do you expect from a man who likes to take it all?

Sometimes it just depends on his mood. One day you're showing off a top that catches his attention, and Digger is saddling up behind you, getting both hands on your chest and his mouth on you.

Other days, you're lounging on your stomach in your underwear or a towel, and he can't help but stop what he's up to and admire the view.

He'll strip off his own shirt, use his strong arms to nudge your legs open, and keep them spread while he has his way with you until you're begging him for more.

And while he likes to narrow his focus down to the areas that pleasure you the most, he always makes time to mark you where other people will see. No leaving anything to the imagination. Those goods are his.

But make no mistake- Digger will do any-fuckin'-thing to get his hands on you. He likes to play rough, but any morsel of you offer up will have him on his knees for you.

Venom doesn't see why Eddie would have a preference- every part of you is delicious.

But while Eddie agrees, he just can't get enough your ass. Ever since you went for a ride with him and he caught a glimpse of you straddling his bike from behind, the image has been burned into his brain.

Eddie loves to press his full body weight on top of you while he fucks you into the mattress doggy style. He's always careful, but sometimes the way he and Venom growl in your ear makes you feel like you're theirs in a way no one else has.

And when you stand with him- in front of him in line at some place to eat, beside him in an elevator, etc. Eddie's hands is always on your ass. Rubbing, squeezing.

He's the kind of partner to slip his hand into your back jeans pocket while you're walking.

And Venom grows to love seeing his teeth marks all over your backside. He delights in the way you shiver at the scrape of his teeth against your skin- like meek prey before he devours you.

[markofthewolf]

Addicted; Part 2

Part 1

Takeshi Kovacs x Reader

Warnings: cursing, slight mentions of killing some people and pills

A/N: Finally finished the part two. I've some doubt about the storyline and how I'll manage things that I want to write. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment.

You looked Takeshi in the eye while mirroring Ortega's stance. He eyed you up and down and a slight smile formed on his mouth. You cringed at the thought of him being…well, forward. "What did he do this time?" You asked harshly without breaking eye contact with Kovacs. You can see that his eyes aren't exactly focused on yours. They seemed glossy. Is he drunk?

"He…" started Ortega. She sighed loudly and caressed her face with her hand. You understood that what he did isn't good so you step aside to let them in. Ortega gave you a tired smile and plunged on the couch.

Tak stumbled into the room, and although he didn't fall, it was enough to crash into you. You tried to catch his arm, but he managed to walk straight to the bed. He dropped onto the bed and sighs. You walked towards the bed. Standing above Kovacs, you watched him carefully. He seemed as drunk as a skunk, and you never saw him like that before. He always holds his liquor in control. However, this time it feels different. You can't point out what it's, but your gut says something is off.

"So what exactly did Kovacs do? Ortega, I know he can be a pain in the ass, so just tell me. Did he do something that we can't get away with?" You asked calmly because you know what Kovacs is capable of, and also how stubborn he is. You turned towards the detective this time. Tucking your towel under your arm, you shifted your weight from one leg to the other.

"I killed them, Y/N. I fucking killed 'em. I found 'em, beat 'em to the death, and they fucking deserved it. You know it." Tak said, lifting his head from the bed. You turned your head to look at him, puzzled about what he said. He smirked and dropped his head. You didn't understand which people he was talking about, so you turned to the detective again.

"What is he talking about? Who the fuck did he beat?” Ortega looked at Kovacs. She bit her lip while trying to come up with an answer. You threw your hands up and walked into the bar. You eyed the pill bottle on the side table and your hands reached out to grab the bottle. You haven't been using it for a while but now, being out of your mind might be the thing you've been looking for. However, you fought the urge inside of you, and headed behind the bar to fix yourself a drink while Ortega lifted herself from the couch.

She stood in front of you and smiled at you. You took a swing from your glass. The alcohol burned your throat as it went down. You looked down at your glass and shook the glass to twirl cold stone cubes. Ortega was playing with her fingers. She looked like she didn't know how to talk to you. "Jesus, Ortega! I'm sure we can find a way to get out of this situation like others." You said with a small smile on your face to give her courage. She looked right in your eyes.

"Kovacs killed the guys who tortured and killed you. He found them near their old bunker. I guess they didn't think they needed to change their location. He also destroyed their stacks, so they can't come back for a second round. I found out what he did after Samir showed me the footage. I tried to reach him, but it said the number is unavailable." She blurted out. Your eyes widened.

"I also tried to call you but…" You shook your head and put your glass down.

"Poe restricted my phone which made it unavailable from incoming calls. I also couldn't reach Tak or anybody else all night. That stupid AI fucking forbid every fucking possible way of communication." You said and sighed loudly.

You leaned on the marble countertop and dropped your head down. You repeated the news in your head. He killed the guys... THEM! Around their bunkers… Beat 'em to the death. How did he even find them? Why didn't you think they'd be around their old bunker? Were they that dumb?

You run your hand through your hair.

“Thank you for the news detective, but I think you need to leave.” You said without lifting your head. Still looking at your glass, you scoffed. You can feel you're getting angry with every second, but you can't exactly tell why. He killed them, didn't he? So you don't need to look for them anymore. However, you don't feel like you're relieved.

"Y/N, I…"

"Detective, I'm not being polite or asking. Leave, now!" You said harshly. You know she's just the messenger and she wants to help, but you want to clear your mind. Knowing damn well, being with Ortega doesn't help.

[maddu-oliveira]

May I request “Stop distracting me.” With reader x Takeshi kovacs? 💕 Babblydrabbly

💫 Automatic 💫

warnings: nudity, swearing, implied smut

word count: 463

A/N: i hope this is good for you :) i got some trouble to write it (like always) and I'm sorry if it's too short

Takeshi's attention was soon drawn to you as soon as you entered the shared room, his eyes, which before were analyzing security videos to help with Bancroft's "case," were now on your body noticing your every move. You took off your jacket and placed it on the bed, beginning to unbutton the shirt you were wearing, but before doing so you let your hair down from the style you always did before going to work and sat up in bed. Kovacs tried to turn his attention back to the main and most important task at that moment, but you went back to undressing the rest of the clothes that were left and this made him roll his eyes in irritation. Now that you were half-naked lying on the bed with your eyes closed, Takeshi knew that you weren't asleep and this was just you trying to disconnect from everything in the world, this vision was just messing with the envoy and preventing him from doing anything else. And all your partner's calmness went up in smoke as soon as he saw you lie face down on the bed and stretch out letting a groan escape your lips.

“Can you fucking stop?” He complained between teeth and rubbed his face trying not to stare at you.

“Excuse me?” You turned to him with your eyebrow raised in a puzzled expression.

“Stop distracting me!” Takeshi stood up from the armchair and you sat back in bed.

“I was literally doing nothing, Kovacs! You are acting like an idiot, more than usual” You said looking at him as if you could burn him right there.

“You know exactly what you’re doing- This!” he pointed to your whole body. “This is not helping”

“Oh- Sorry if my perfect sleeve took your attention, Kovacs” You say sarcastically, getting up to change into some more comfortable clothes.

“Who told you to get dressed, princess?” In a few steps he had reached you and your back was against his strong chest.

“Takeshi- You literally said that this view was distracting you” With a deep sigh you turned to face him.

“And now my attention is all yours, baby girl” He whispered lowering to give you a soft kiss. “You always got it so easily… It’s automatic”

“What are you going to do about it?” Takeshi let out a small laugh when he noticed your devilish grin.

“Are you really trying to play it back, baby? I’m gonna make you regret it” Takeshi practically growled in your ear and wrapped his hand around your throat making you gasp.

“Then make me!” It was your last words before Kovacs carried you to the bed and ripped off your underwear getting in between your legs.

“I'm going to make you fucking scream, princess"

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Hurts like hell (Stephen Holder)

Pairing: Stephen Holder X F!Reader

Summary: After not seeing each other for almost a year, Stephen finds you, and you have a lot of things to talk about

Takes place between s1 and s2, like around the time holder is starting as homicide detective and is around 6 months clean

Warnings: this is a heavy one, mentions of drug use and addiction, mentions of overdose, explicit sexual content, minors DNI, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie lots of dirty talk, Holder being a kinky fucker, cause like that motherfucker is kinky, language, heavy angst, and a happy ending

WC: 6.4k I hate myself

A/N: Writing this was the literal description of the "I aint gonna do it" "already did it" sound from tiktok. So I honestly don't know why I spent 6+ hours writing this, tbh I don't expect many people to read it, cause like the killing is very underrated. But its Joel's best show, and honestly Stephen Holder is his best character along with Rick and Takeshi Kovacs, what can I say, holder deserves some love and appreciation and i really felt like writing for him. We'll see what happens. If anyone does happen to read it I hope you enjoy the angst and sin, which is usually my specialty.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

There are a lot of things in this world that can hurt a person to the point of feeling like they're being torn apart. Love shouldn't be one of those things. Love should be one of those things in life that makes a person happy, fills them with joy and makes their day seem brighter. But like hell it is. Love hurts like hell. And that's something you experienced first hand.

You knew loving someone wasn't easy, committing yourself and opening yourself to a person and being completely vulnerable to whatever they might choose to do with your heart. But you never expected it to hurt as much as it did to love someone as much as you loved him. Because whatever was hurting him, it hurt you, whenever he was hurting, you were hurting too. And it killed you. But what truly dug the dagger into your chest and twisted it was the fact that he was hurting himself. He was killing himself and he knew it, he liked it.

You were head over heels for a drug addict cop.

You knew you should've seen the red flags, I mean he fucking screamed red flags. Outside of the fact like that he looked high as a kite 24/7, the man had so many issues and trauma it wasn't even funny. The man screamed childhood trauma from a mile away. But somehow you looked past it because he was the sweetest and most down to earth guy you had ever met. He made you laugh like nobody else could just because he was so dumb and sweet. It was easy to love a guy like him.

What wasn't easy was dealing with his addiction. And god knows you really tried. You did everything you could to help him. You tried to get him clean, you tried to take him to NA meetings, hell, you even let him get high in your apartment just so he wouldn't overdose in some crack house. But no matter what you did, you couldn't help him. He wouldn't let you, he would just push you away. And it killed you.

Walking away from him was probably the hardest thing you ever had to do. But maybe it was for the best.

It sure as hell hurt like it, there were times you were lying wide awake at night thinking if he was okay, if he had money to eat that night, or if he had just overdosed somewhere and you would never see him again. You didn't know, maybe you made a mistake leaving him, or maybe you did the right thing and it was the wake up call he needed. You had no way of knowing. But even after almost a year of being away you still thought about it, about him. Hell, whenever you saw a tall, lanky man with a jacket and a hoodie under it your mind would automatically ask yourself 'is that Stephen?' even if it was for just a second.

But with how far gone he was the last time you saw him, when you came back to Seattle you really had zero hope of seeing him, and if you did, it would probably break your heart all over again.

Loving the right person at the wrong time really hurts like hell.

It was so late at night your heart nearly jumped right out of your chest when you heard a couple of rapid knocks on your door. You were on your feet so fast you nearly bumped the foot of the couch. It was really late and you weren't expecting anyone at all. You had recently moved back to Seattle, and nobody outside of your immediate family knew your address. So who the hell was knocking on your door in the middle of the night?

You cautiously made your way around the arraignment of boxes on the floor to the front door. You looked through the peephole to see if you could see anyone. You saw a tall man, wearing a black jacket, but that was as much as you could see since his back was to the door and all you could see was the back of his short hair. You thought of him. God you hated your mind. But there was no way, he didn't have a way to know you were back in town. Surely, it couldn't have been him, right?

Well, there was only one way to know.

You made sure you kept the latch on before you unlocked the door and slowly opened it, only your head poking out. When you did, the man turned around and oh— you felt your heart sink and your stomach turn into a knot when you saw him. You saw Stephen, right there, right in front of you, pretty damn alive, too. For a moment you felt relieved because he was alive, he looked okay, he looked... Clean. Of course he still had a paleness to his face, and dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept in years, which was probably true considering his job. But he didn't have that lost look in his eyes, he didn't have that sweaty look that made him look perpetually sick, restless or like he was going to make a whole in the center of the earth because he wouldn't stay still. Maybe he was clean. Maybe.

But that thought lasted about two seconds before everything else came crashing down. Every attempt you made of getting him clean, every night you held him shaking because he was withdrawing, every time he'd give you that guilty puppy dog look when he'd tell you he relapsed again. You remembered all of it, and you were done with it.

"No, no, no." You shook your head and went to close the door as fast as you could, not even giving him a chance to speak.

"No, no, hold up." He was quick, he got his foot in the door so you couldn't shut it on his face, he placed his hand flat on the door, too, just so you wouldn't close it on him.

"Stephen," You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled sharply, voice harsh and sharp when you said his name for the first time in a long time. "Get the hell out. Now, I mean it."

"I just wanna talk, c'mon. Please." He sounded desperate, it was urgent, like he needed it. But you had heard that millions of times, you just couldn't do it. You couldn't go through this pain all of over again. You said nothing and you simply shook your head, shoving his foot back as you went to shut the door as hard as you could, but you stopped when he nearly shouted, "I'm clean!"

Your eyes blew wide, and you actually looked up at him, eyes meeting his. "W-what?"

"I'm clean." He repeated with a soft chuckle and he half smiled, feeling a small bit of pride in it, "I've been clean for six months. Can we just— c'mon baby I just wanna talk. I needa talk to you. Please?" He had this puppy dog look in his eyes, like he was silently begging you, he sounded genuine too.

God you wish you had more willpower than this. You always said that if you saw him again you would shut the door on his face and you wouldn't look back, you promised yourself you wouldn't go down this rabbit hole again. But fuck, seeing Stephen again, seeing him actually okay and just begging to talk, it made all of your anger and resentment suddenly disappear.

You chewed on your bottom lip, screwing your eyes shut and nearly slammed your forehead on the door as you had a quick mental battle with yourself. What the hell. You sighed heavily and kicked his foot away from the door before shutting it, hard. But just for a second because when you undid the latch you fully opened it this time. Trying to fight against the little sickness in your stomach and the shakiness in your knees, you took him in, your eyes taking in his tall frame, he looked good. God you hated that you missed him.

"You got like 60 seconds to tell me why you're here or I'm kicking your skinny white ass out." You said as you stepped away from the door, he followed you inside like a lost puppy. You swore you heard him chuckle behind you.

"You serious?" He chuckled, but the grin on his lips quickly turned into a flat line when he saw the blank expression on your face, your eyebrows shot up and your arms crossed over your chest, you were very serious. "You're lookin' good Y/N."

"Stephen." You said sternly, slightly tightening your jaw and rolling your eyes at his attempt at flirting. He always had a way of sweet talking people, especially you. But it would take a whole lot more just than that this time. "How did you even know I live here? And please don't tell me you've looked at my DMV records or some shit like that."

"Pff what? Babygirl, who do you think I am? I ain't a stalker you know that." He scoffed and shook his head dismissively.

"Look, I've been.. I've been lookin' for you, y'know? You were right, I hit rock bottom, I didn't care what I was putting in my veins, down my throat or up my nose. It was bad and uhm, I got help. I started going to N.A meetings, I got a sponsor, I was startin' to get back on my feet. But I didn't want you to see me like that no more, not after that last time so I waited. When I uh, when I got my one month chip I wanted to tell you but you weren't at your apartment, you weren't at work, I knew your parents wouldn't tell me shit, so I asked around, heard you moved to Cali or somethin' so I uh.. I stopped lookin'. Until a couple of weeks ago, I heard you were back in town, so y'know, I had to come see my girl."

There was something in the way he said it, in the way his voice got softer and quieter towards the end. Almost as if it hurt him to say it as much as it hurt you to hear it.

"I'm not your girl anymore, Stephen. That was a long time ago."

Was it though? You knew you were lying when you said you weren't his girl anymore. You knew you sure as hell never stopped loving him, you could never get yourself to date somebody else, no matter how many times you tried to meet other people, it was always Stephen who was on your mind. He was the one you wanted to hold you through the night, not anyone else. Even if you wanted to convince yourself otherwise.

"Yeah, 'cause you left." He spat, his voice was low but it was harsh, resentful and heartbroken. You really hadn't dared to look him in the eye, you couldn't bring yourself to, but when he said that, like it was your fault, then you looked at him and scoffed in disbelief. "Why did you leave? Why did you just run away like that? Didn't say why, didn't say goodbye, didn't say nothin'. You just left."

"Why did I leave?" You repeated in disbelief, "Are you seriously asking me why? I can't fucking believe you, I just can't. You're so fucking cynical." You exhaled sharply, feeling hot tears fill your eyes. You didn't know if you were crying from sadness or from anger. You couldn't believe he would ask you that as if it were your fault, when he damn well knew he fucked things up too.

"I'm cynical? You for real right now?" He scoffed in disbelief, his expression was hard, full of pure disbelief and hurt. "Well I didn't just take my shit and left when things got too hard. I didn't just give up on you, now did I?"

Oh hell no. He didn't just say that.

If you were angry before, you were absolutely fuming now. You felt your blood boil so much you felt like you were on fire. How could he even say that? You didn't even have the right words, you were absolutely speechless. Your face was soaked with hot angry tears when you lunged yourself forward and shoved him back hard. And again. He stumbled back both times, he nearly fell right on his ass. The third time he planted his feet on the floor, so you pounded your closed fists hard on his chest.

"Fuck you Stephen! Fuck you! Fuck you!" You shouted at him, eyes screwed shut as you hit his chest over and over. He grabbed both of your wrists, grunting lowly when you wouldn't stop and he held you to his chest despite you fighting against it.

"How could you fucking say that!? How could you say that I gave up on you? You fucking OD'ed in my bathroom! I had to drag your ass to my bathtub, get in the bathtub with you and hold you hoping you wouldn't die on me. Because I couldn't call an ambulance because you'd get arrested and you'd lose your job! So I just had to sit there, in that freezing cold water, holding your shaking body and fucking beg you wouldn't die." You choked out, the memory of it making you feel like you couldn't breathe. You had stopped struggling so he let you go, and for the first time ever, he was actually speechless and like he didn't know what to say.

So he just stood there, jaw tight and eyes filled with tears as he looked down at you. "And even when you stole money from me just to get another damn fix, I stayed, I stayed because I loved you. But you have no idea how hard it was to see you slowly kill yourself and not let me help you. I couldn't watch you die. Trust me Stephen, leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I didn't want to sit here and watch you kill yourself. I couldn't do it. So don't you dare say I gave up on you, because you gave up on yourself the minute you choose to put that shit in your veins."

"I—" There weren't many times you had seen Stephen cry. He was sweet and the most human person you've ever met, but he had so many walls he wasn't one break down and let his walls down. But now? He cried like you had never seen him cry before. You weren't looking at his face, his chest was as far as you could see without lifting your head up, but you knew he was crying. You could hear the quiet choked out sobs, his shaky breath and the way his chest rumbled with each sob.

"I'm sorry. God I'm so sorry." He pulled you to his chest, no resistance from you this time, and he cried hard, he cried into your hair. You did the same. You cried into his chest until you felt his hoodie start to get wet. Then he just fell to his knees in front of you. It was like he just couldn't hold himself together anymore and he was breaking down, right there, right in front of you.

"God I'm so sorry Y/N. You're right I.. I was hurting you and I didn't give a shit. I just kept putting that shit inside me cause that's all I knew how to do. I was just some lowlife tweaker and you deserved better than that. You—you were right to leave my sorry ass." He sobbed into your shirt like he couldn't breathe, like the realization was suddenly hitting him and it was putting so much pressure on his chest he couldn't breathe.

"Stephen, that's not true." You said shakily, running your fingers through his short hair as you cradled his head, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried not to choke on your own sobs.

"No, yes it's true. I wasn't the man you needed, hell I still ain't. I'm just some lowlife junkie tryna stay clean. And trust me it's hard. I've been goin' to my meetings and trying to stay focused on my job, but I'm always thinkin' about getting a fix. And maybe I will someday, when shit gets really hard and I'll just relapse again. That's not the kind of man you need in your life." He was ready to stand up, leave and never come back into your life like he should've done the minute he met you. But you didn't let him.

"Stephen," You said his name shakily as you dropped to your knees in front of him and took his face between your hands so he would look at you. "Baby I didn't leave because I didn't love you or because you didn't deserve me, I left because I loved you too much to watch you hurt yourself like that. It hurt like hell. But it was selfish, I should've stayed with you no matter what and I wish I had. That's why I came back, maybe it was too late or maybe it wasn't, but you're here, you're alive and you've been clean. And whatever demons you still got in you, we'll fight them together. If you still want me in your life."

"You kiddin'? You think I tried to bribe your parents into talkin' to me for weeks just so I could let you walk away? Hell nah. There's no way in hell. I want my girl back and I want to do it right this time." He half smiled, eyes closing and he pressed his forehead against yours.

"You bribed my parents so they'd tell you where I was?" You laughed, sniffling softly and he nodded. "Not gonna lie, that sounds kinda shady. You sure you ain't a stalker Officer Holder?"

"Actually, it's Detective Holder now. Homicide Detective for the Seattle P.D." He corrected you, a small proud smirk on his lips as he said that. You pulled back a bit to look at his face, trying to see if he was joking or not and you smiled. You knew he always wanted to be a city detective.

"Oh really? You're a detective now huh? Wow, look at you, you're all important now. Bet you got a lot of ass wanting to get a piece of your skinny white ass." You teased, bringing the back of your hand to wipe your tear stained face. Stephen did the same as he laughed softly.

"You already know how I do. I got one or two waiting for me to hit them up. Y'know my partner, she's crazy about me."

"Oh is that so?" You pushed your lips together and raised your eyebrows at him, eyes big as if to show shock.

"Oh c'mon baby, don't give me that look. You know I would never want anyone but you. You're my girl and you're always gonna to be, right?"

You were so focused on laughing with him again you didn't realize just how close he was. The space between you was so small you could fill it if either of you moved just an inch. You were aching for it too. You hadn't realized just how much you had missed him until now. Until you had him centimeters away from you, so close you didn't want to let him go again. Your eyes fell on his chapped lips for a second before you lifted your eyes up, and you caught him doing the same. Fuck, you were so close you could feel his warm breath fan right against your face and his body heat radiate around him. Hell, you thought you could even hear his heartbeat. His heart was probably pounding just as hard as yours was.

If only he'd just—

His hand fell on your cheek and you took a deep breath as he leaned in, filling the gap between you two. His lips found yours so fast it felt like they were magnets attracted to each other. It was slow at first, like you were learning about each other all over again, taking each other’s touch for the first time. That discovering phase didn’t last long though, because after a couple of seconds of exploring, a satisfied sigh rumbled in his throat and his tongue was already tracing the outline of your bottom lip. Without hesitation, you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to swirl with yours in a way that made you squeeze your thighs together trying to get some kind of pressure going. You lifted your hands up and wrapped them around his shoulders, shifting on your knees as you pulled him closer to you. He got the hint quickly.

“Can we just—” He broke the kiss, breathing just as heavy as you were when he pulled away. You nodded quickly.

“Oh fuck yeah.”

Stephen snorted and nodded, standing up to his full height and pulling you up with him. His lips were instantly back on yours, tongue diving in before you even had a chance to breathe. He grabbed the back of your thighs and hoisted you up around his waist, hands on your ass as he held you.

You kind of wished you had warned him about the mess of boxes that was your apartment, because he hadn’t even walked five feet before he was tripping over something on the floor, cursing against your lips as he tried not to fall face first with you in his arms.

“The hell? Yo, why do you got so many boxes here? Damn.” He groaned, kicking one aside with his foot as he looked around, trying to figure out where to go in this unknown apartment.

“I just moved here dumbass, don’t kick my shit.” You tried not to laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder as he just stood there. “My room is upstairs.”

“Oh hell nah. Look I’m all about making love in a nice cozy bed, getting all freaky under the sheets but like, your apartment is a fucking maze. I’m gonna bust my shit walking up them stairs or something.” He frowned, lips slightly pouted as he walked around until he found your couch and promptly threw you on it, making you giggle softly.

“Awe, it’s cute you think you were ever romantic like that.” He pouted even more, somewhat offended by your statement. “Did you forget we’ve fucked in your junk car that smells like an ashtray? So you really think I care about the candles and rose petals on the bed type shit?”

“Such a pretty face and such a dirty mouth, you really are my girl.” He laughed, his body coming to hover over you, right away settling between your legs like he belonged there. “You know I’m all about taking it slow, enjoying the moment and shit but like, I’ve really missed you and I gotta fuck you right here and right now.”

“Stephen,” You grabbed his face, biting your bottom lip so hard you thought you were gonna draw blood. “We got plenty of time to take it slow, but right now I need. So just shut the hell up already and fuck me.” You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes roll into the back of his head but his mouth was on yours so fast you didn’t have time to think about it. His hands found the edge of your shirt and he pulled it over your head with ease. His lips were quick to find the skin of your neck.

“Don’t worry babygirl, I got you. But just know that I ain’t leaving this apartment ‘til I get my head between your thighs, you got that?” His voice dipped so low it sent shivers down your spine. Hell, your head was spinning so much already all you could was nod.

Your own shaky hands eventually found the edge of his thick grey hoodie, you found it kinda cute he still had it, he always seemed to be wearing it. He got the hint and shrugged off his jacket, letting you pull the hoodie over his head quickly after. And he had a t-shirt under it. Damn, how many layers of clothes did this man have?

“You’re wearing too many layers.” You breathed out, your mind barely coherent at that point. Stephen chuckled as he sat back on his knees.

“It’s cold as hell outside, girl. You should warm me up.” He smirked playfully as he grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head only to throw it somewhere over his shoulder. You couldn’t help but grow fixated on his tattooed skin, as dumb as some of his tattoos were, especially the one on his chest, the ink marking his skin was nearly as hot as he was. You couldn’t help but trace your fingers over the large print letters inked across his chest.

“This one new? You didn’t have it a year ago.” You hummed, biting your lip as you felt him shiver under your fingers.

“Yep, you like it?” He smirked, looking down where your fingers were touching his skin. You nodded.

“Yeah, it’s hot as hell.” You smirked, sitting up slightly so that you could press your lips to his chest and leave butterfly kisses along his pale skin.

“Mhm, y’know, I got this cross tattooed on my back, I got it after I got clean. And I was thinkin' of getting your name, too, ‘cause you were the reason I got clean in the first place, and the whole time I was just thinkin' of you, that I wanted to be the man you deserved.” You quickly pulled back to look at him, you blinked slowly, trying to take in every word he said. You let out a soft sigh, eyes meeting his own, he had this lovesick and fond look in them, like he was looking at the thing dearest to him, like there was nothing he loved more. You wish you had seen this sooner. You brought your hand to his face and kissed him so hard you heard him groan.

You wasted no time getting on his lap, straddling him as you worked on unbucking his belt. Your hands were shaking so much you could barely do anything. You eventually got it, the sound of the belt buckle rattling as you shakily tugged his jeans down his hips. He helped you this time, shoving them off the rest of the way until they fell to the floor. So much like you, he was down to his last layer of clothing. And he was so painfully hard under you. You felt all of it right against you, the flimsy material of your pyjama bottoms really wasn’t much of a barrier. So every time you moved, even in the slightest, you could feel the hard line of his cock brush right against you, making you pool into your bottoms more than you already were. But when you felt his hand slip right into your bottoms, fingers meeting with your slick core, that’s when you felt like screaming.

“O-Oh fuck.” You cursed under your breath, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head at the slightest touch.

Stephen watched the way your face contorted and your mouth fell open when one of his long fingers dipped inside you, your walls instantly tightening around the digit. He felt his cock twitch when he drew out a desperate, choked out moan from you.

“Damn baby, this all for me? You’re all wet from a little kissin’? When was the last time you got some?” He asked lowly, his dropping so low it honestly made you even wetter. When you didn’t respond, he added a second finger, curling both digits until they were brushing right against your most sensitive spot. He had you choking on your own breath then. “I think I asked you a question didn’t I?”

“I-I haven’t with anyone. Just you.” You choked out, words no longer something you knew. He laughed, he fucking laughed, really proud of himself.

“You for real?” You could only nod. “You didn’t let nobody else fill this pretty little pussy, make you feel good?”

“God no. Only you could.” You swore you saw something snap in his eyes because his wrist fucking snapped, his fingers scissoring in a way that made your thighs tremble and jaw fall wide open.

“It was just me huh? You were my good little girl and you knew nobody else was gonna make you feel this good. You knew only I could make you feel so good you were shaking for hours and fucked you so hard you felt me for days, that right? You wanted to be mine even if I wasn’t there.”

As if you were soaked in your clothes already, another pool of wetness seeped right out of you and right into his hand. And the way he breathed out a moan almost made you want to come right then and there. As if his words weren’t enough.

“You missed bein’ called my good girl didn’t you? You missed it when I called you just mine? Hm?”

Words really weren’t an option at that point. All you could do was nod feverishly, a quiet and desperate moan being the only response you could give him at that point. You were so desperate trying to chase your high, the feeling of his fingers becoming too much to handle by then. Stephen seemed to have gotten the hint, because he pressed his lips to your throat as he started to slam his hand, his fingers scissoring you open with each snap of his wrist. But the second you felt his thumb pressing against your clit, you completely lost it. You saw white, a moan so loud leaving your lips you thought your neighbors probably heard and you jolted heavily, sweet release washing over you.

You were still panting heavily when his fingers left you, making you whine softly at the sudden emptiness. But when you opened your eyes you were whining, but for a different reason. Stephen had two fingers in his mouth and he sucked them slowly, eyes never leaving you as he did. Your lips were slightly parted, you couldn’t take your eyes away from him. God that man was fucking hot.

“Damn, I missed your sweet little taste. I think I was more addicted to you than I was to that damn thing.”

“Fuck Stephen, please. I really need you.” You whined, so desperate you tugged your bottoms clean off your legs, kicking them somewhere and you were completely bare on top of him, soaking right onto his boxers.

“I got you princess, don’t worry.” He wasted no time tugging his boxers down, sighing sharply when his length sprung free and slapped right against his stomach. You had to look down, your mouth suddenly dry at the sight. You felt his fingers under your chin as he tipped it up. “Eyes up here baby. You wanna be a good girl and ride me?”

God, how could you say no to that?

You nodded so fast it nearly gave you a headache. He hummed in approval before he grabbed your thighs and pulled you forward, spreading them apart as far as they could go. His eyes were dead on you, dark and determined as he felt you slowly sink down on him, the head of his cock pressing right against your entrance.

“C’mon baby, you got it.” He urged you on, slightly bucking his hips.

You whined softly, your head dropping to his shoulder and gripping the other as you lowered yourself further down. And fuck, it had either been a really long fucking time since you’ve been anyone or you totally forgot how to handle his size. Either way, when he slipped deeper, his sharp and heavy breath mixing with yours, you were already shaking. When he was sitting all the way inside you, you felt your thighs shudder and muscles tighten, your heart beating so fast it made you dizzy.

“You are—” He breathed heavily, Adam’s apple bobbing as you rocked your hips, not quite moving like he wanted you to. “So fuckin’ tight, damn.”

“God I missed you.” You mumbled heavily, face pressed into his shoulder as you brought yourself up before slamming down on his length, drawing out a groan from him. “I missed you so fucking much Stephen.”

He felt his cock twitch inside you and his eyes rolled into the back of his head when he heard you say his name like that. His head was slightly thrown back over the back of the couch, mouth slightly open as you were riding him. But the way you said his name, so desperate and so inebriated on the feeling of him, it made something snap in him.

“Say that again.” He drawled, grabbing a fistful of your hair to pull your head back until you were looking at him.

“I missed you.” You gasped softly, his sudden roughness taking you by surprise, but fuck did you love it. “I missed you so much.” You repeated, eyes screwing shut when he gripped your ass with his free hand and rolled his hips. His lips quickly found yours again and the moan he incited from you when he started to thrust into you got caught in your throat.

“Tell me you love me.” He muttered against your mouth, breaking the kiss to look at your face, as if he needed to see you when you said it. Your hands fell to his chest, placing them flat trying to embrace yourself as you bounced on him. It took you a minute to register his words in your fuzzy state of mind.

“I love you,” You said breathlessly, opening your eyes for a moment to find Stephen’s hazel turned brown eyes staring at you, head tilted back and jaw slightly agape. You lifted a hand to his face and pressed your forehead against his, the familiar recoil starting in your stomach, “God Stephen I love you.”

When you said it again, he wrapped an arm around you and without a single warning, he flipped you over, you were flat on your back, eyes wide, mouth hanging open and suddenly empty. You were about to yell at him when he grabbed one of your ankles and slid you towards him, throwing that leg over his shoulder. He slammed so hard into you it made you scream, back arching and eyes rolling into the back of your head.

It was his show now.

He wasted absolutely no time taking it slow, finding a pace, none of that. He pounded into you, hips snapping at a quick and even pace, bottoming himself out with each thrust. He had you feeling that recoil again in a matter of seconds. You were damn sure you were about to see stars.

When your eyes opened for a split second, you swore your face flushed even more because when you did, you saw Stephen, lips slightly parted and eyes fixed between your bodies, right where he was sinking in and out of you.

“Damn.” He mumbled lowly, suddenly fixated on the sight of him fucking in and out of you.

He licked his thumb and dropped his hand between your bodies, pressing his thumb against your clit, quickly rubbing sharp circles on the bundle of nerves. You were going to lose it soon, you knew it. And judging by the way Stephen started to thrust into you with purpose, he knew it too.

He used his free hand to grip the armrest above your head and he leaned over you, sweaty chest pressing right against yours as the sound of slapping skin filled your ears.

“Don’t stop,” You urged breathlessly, being so close you felt like you were going to pass out. “Please, please Stephen, don’t stop.”

“I got you baby, c’mon, come for me.” He urged, giving a particularly hard and deep thrust that mixed with the shocking waves from your clit, completely sent you over the edge.

The sob that came out of your mouth as you came fell right into the air, filling the apartment, surely to be heard by whoever had the misfortune to share a wall with you. Your thighs trembled pathetically as your walls gripped him like vice, nails digging into his back as you sobbed his name quietly. You must’ve squeezed him hard because his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his hips faltered, cock twitching as he came inside you shortly after. His hand gripped the armrest for some stability until his knuckles turned white as he just sat inside you, his head on your shoulder as he left wet sloppy kisses along the skin like he was silently praising you.

“I love you, and I missed you, too. More than you can imagine.” He mumbled against your shoulder, breath heavy, much like your own. You were panting softly, your leg fell from his shoulder with exhaustion as you just held him with one arm and you ran your fingers through his soaked hair. “Please don’t leave me again. I know I can be a lot, and I know I ain’t easy to deal with, but I need you. I can handle not having anythin', hell I could handle not putting that shit in my veins anymore, but I just can’t handle you not being around. Hurts like hell.”

“Stephen,” You sighed softly, slowly pulling his head from your shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, smiling softly as you looked over his face, “I’m not leaving you, I don’t care how hard it gets, I’m not doing that to you again I promise. Dealing with your addiction was hard, I just couldn’t do it then. But I came back because being without you was harder. And it hurt like hell, I can’t do it again.”

“God I love you.” This time he kissed you hard, smiling against your lips when he did. You giggled against his lips and gasped softly when you felt him pull out of you. But your eyes shot open with confusion when you felt his weight leave you completely. And when you sat up on your elbows and you looked down, you saw Stephen on his knees at the foot of the couch. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion but your eyes widened when you saw him grab your foot with a mischievous smirk.

“Stephen, what the hell?”

“I said I wasn't leaving this apartment until I got my face between your thighs, didn’t I? Well, I’mma do just that, you got somethin’ to say about it?”

Nope. Not at all.

Love hurts, of course it does. Oftentimes it hurts more than making you happy. But for a love like his, maybe you liked the pain. You would let it hurt, because he was worth it, you knew that now.

[lacontroller1991]

Hi! Hope you’re doing well!

So, do you remember that whole Amazon leggings fad that was going on? The leggings that apparently make your butt look superb?

Wellllllll how would Rick (or any of Joel and/or his characters) react to (y/n) wearing them? I just had a video of husbands’ reactions to them pop up on my YouTube and I could only picture Rick 😂🥰

Anyway. Would love your input!

Leggings HC

hey hey thanks for the ask!!! So it stands:

Rick:

When he first sees you in the leggings, he does a double take because his brain doesn't process it the first time, but when he does process, he's a blushing mess. Who would've known the Colonel would be so flushed at the sight of you wearing leggings of all things.

The squad is the first to notice it, they notice the way Rick's eyes trail behind you as you walk away and they notice how Rick's eyes also stay on your frame, specifically how low his eyes get.

When he gets you alone for a second, he pulls you aside and grabs a handful of your ass.

"Rick, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Sorry darlin', it's just hard to resist. Your ass looks amazing," he compliments, his hands kneading into your cheeks as you squint at him, enjoying his touch.

"Well Colonel, if you behave yourself now you can take them off of me later." Needless to say, he behaves himself.

When the two of you get home though, his hands go straight back to your ass, after all Rick Flag is 100% an ass man

Stephen:

You wouldn't be caught dead wearing those leggings to work, but when Holder suddenly appears at your door and you're wearing nothing but those leggings and a sports bra, his eyes immediately drop down to your chest.

"Damn mamacita, lookin' good," he smirks as you scoff, letting him in the apartment as you turn and walk to the kitchen, giving him a clear view of your butt "yo, when did you get surgery?"

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, your ass. Is huge. Since when did that happen?" He jokes but down south, things are beginning to rise.

"It's just leggings, Holder. I can understand why you wouldn't know what they are, never being in a woman's room."

"I've been in yours, haven't I?" You choke on your coffee as he chuckles, plopping himself down on your couch, "yo, why don't you come over here and take a seat on the love machine," he exaggerates as you sit next to him.

"Yeah, no thanks."

But if you were in a relationship with him, he would smack your ass in each passing, loving the way your butt would giggle each time.

He would also love pressing his hard-on against your ass when you have those leggings on.

Kovacs:

Let's be fr, they wouldn't stay on long. One look in your direction and seeing those leggings accentuating your back side, Tak would rip those pants right off.

"Tak, those were new."

"Shouldn't have worn them 'round me," he shrugs, his hands grabbing your flesh as he pulls you on top of him, your hips digging into his as you feel the rise of his erection.

"Maybe I should wear them more often."

Kovacs doesn't get distracted easily, but when you're sauntering around the room in those leggings, his eyes are fixating on your behind and nothing else.

When walking together, he would have a hand on the small of your back that from time to time would slip down, but you would put it back up, only for it to slip down a minute later.

Very Touchy.

Ed Baldwin (Modern AU):

To say it would catch Ed's attention is an understatement. If you happen to walk by him carrying in groceries or picking up after your kids, his eyes would follow the sway of your hips.

If you bent down in front of him, he would 100% reach out and grab a handful, prompting you to smack his hand away.

He would also make grabby hands and pout as if he was a toddler.

"I said no, Ed."

"Come on baby, I just wanna feel."

"You've already felt 10 times today," ensues a pouting Ed. He's a pouty boi.

On the occasion he's locked himself in his study, you would don the famous leggings and bring him some food, sitting on his lap and feeding him while he works with one hand, the other hand resting comfortably against the swell of your ass.

"You know, I really like these leggings," he states with a mouth full of food.

"Yes, I know baby. I know you like them."

ANYWAYS Hope This helps!

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