#although he said Charles has shit hair he is always touching it

[elmatadorcs55]

Oh this one may be my favorite of the race

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jack Bass x Younger!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Bass's.

Notes:

I have no idea when this is supposed to be set. Just go with it.

I have two things to say about Jack in this gif, though. 1. Does he not know how to carry a tray. And 2. I love this statement, here. Its like 'Bart's Dead, Chuck. I can barely contain my joy, Chuck. Its taking all my willpower, Chuck, to keep a monotonous expression. Also Chuck I am carrying a tray, do you see this?'

Plot: Bart Bass decides to be his creepy fucking self (Not that Jack is exponentially better in any way but whatever) towards you, Chuck's best friend- but thankfully, Jack accidentally walks in on the scene and gives you a get out of jail free card.

Good old 'lesser of two evils' shit. I love stuff like that.

Warnings: BART BASS being predatory, and a bit of age difference (You and Jack. I'm going by actors ages though so there's only a, like, 11 year age gap between him and Chuck which is not that bad if you ask me). Sexual references.

~~~

Chuck looks from his phone, that's flashing Blairs name, to you and your big, wide eyes and lips mouthing 'Don't you dare', then to his father quietly tapping away on his phone on the couch a few feet away... then back at his phone.

"Charles- " You hiss, prepared to threaten his very existence but he cuts you off first- slipping off the bar stool beside you and heading for the hallway.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Why am I friends with him again!? You think, but stay quiet and hope that Bart doesn't realise that you're back there despite having said hello to you earlier when he came in. You think, if you stay quiet like a mouse, he will forget your existence and keep texting until Chuck gets back- although, who knows how long he and Blair can go on for.

Depends what its about, honestly. If its about revenge or espionage... well, the conversation could last quite some time.

Should I just leave?

The impulse to run away is a strong one, as you sit there with your cheeks heating up and you start to feel nauseated. You never liked Bart Bass, from the moment you met him. Before that, actually. You had heard Chuck talking about him to Nate before you even became friends with them, and none of what you heard was good. And then you did meet him, one day when Chuck invited you over to do a school project. Or 'school project' as he so obnoxiously put it. You really did end up just doing a school project, though. Hence your friendship nowadays. Bart was creepy towards you even then, at 16 with terribly died hair and the wrong eyeshadow.

You've been very careful since then to never be alone with him like this. You would talk to him at parties if you were forced to, say hello to him when Chuck had you at his place and the man walked by, but that is the extent of your communication with the creep. Always, always, someone would be around. Chuck, mostly. But also staff, or Nate, or random fundraiser ladies, or Jack who Chuck the bastard never left alone with all willy-nilly like this, unfortunately, or Lily, or literally anyone else possible on the earth.

You've even hidden away in the men's bathroom, which is disgusting no matter how expensive the restaurant, with Nate before to get away from this man when Chuck once ditched you both at a dinner with him. And that's the story of how you got your first kiss, too, and it was from Nate Archibald. Hell yes.

That's how much this man makes you want to grab your bag and flee.

But you don't. You stay glued to your seat, super still, listening only to the tap-tap-tapping noises that Bart makes and the bump-bump-bump noises your heart is making right into your throbbing ears.

Until it stops.

Not the bump-bump-bumping, oh no. The tapping. And, nightmarishly, it's replaced by a groan and footsteps coming towards your turned back.

"Y/N," As soon as he says your name, his hands fall on your your shoulders and you literally jump under his touch. Shit- Shit- Fuck- what's happening- "I've been meaning to speak with you recently but Chuck- ah. Well you know him. He refused to share with me your telephone number. But I knew you'd turn up here at some point, so not to worry."

"Uh... right." You cant even force yourself to be your normal, cheery, polite self in this position. You just want him to get. off. of. you.

"Did you want a drink?" He asks, in that possibly cheery (But only because its slightly louder then his usual husk level) but mostly still scary voice he uses to convey emotion, letting go of you thankfully and rounding to the other side of the bar. You shake your head, though. He raises his brows, picking out a scotch for himself. "You don't drink? Shocking, seeing as you're friends with my son."

Oh I drink. You think, giving him a shrug. Just not in situations like this one. Also, what must he think of Chuck? Jesus Christ. For sure, your boy likes debauchery but what's wrong with that?

"Well, I like that." Bart pauses before pouring his drink, to appreciate you. "Mature."

Damn it. It makes your skin absolutely crawl.

"So... " You take a deep breath, tucking your hair back behind your ears rather then ruffling it back like you usually would to get it out of your face- lest that be recognised as some kind of extremely subtle form of flirting. God, fear makes you think weird things. "What did you want to discuss?"

"Oh- Just, your future. Where are you going to school? Will you be sticking close to us?"

Us? US? No, I'll be far far away, from you.

You don't really want to tell Bart where you're going to be going to school, because in your fear addled brain you know that that will just lead to 'Which campus?', or 'Where will you be staying?' and you really don't want it to go there.

You're just taking another, shakier deep breath, when the front door of the apartment opens and shuts loudly and set of feet trample down the hallway towards you. Immediately total relief plashes over you and you wipe your face. Oh, thank god.

Jack Bass appears in the doorway to the living room, looking as put-together yet somehow simultaneously still totally relaxed, as always, and forces aa polite smile onto his handsome face. "Brother. Y/N? Its good to see you."

You have no idea. "Good to see you too Jack. Uh- Chuck's in the bathroom."

"Thanks. For that... enlightening, information, Y/N. I needed that." You cheeks flare up in embarrassment, but ultimately you just roll your eyes as Jack flashes you a subtle wink, and turns promptly to his - much, - older brother. "Bart."

The older brother in question looks less then pleased at his baby brothers appearance in his home. Right now. And he possibly isn't thrilled about that little wink, either. Like you two are in on some kind of joke together. "Jack... What are you doing here?"

"Simmer down, bro. Just visiting." Even you know that that excuse is weak, but anything that comes out Jack's own monotonous voice right now is blessed where you're concerned so you certainly don't say anything. Or make any faces, which would be more appropriate. "Y/N, I don't think Bart-man here's too happy about my presence." Hm, no. You'd have to agree with that observation- not that you've looked up at Bart since Jack came in. You wont risk it. Jack glides through the room with the practised grace of a man who's lived 3 quarters of his life in suits and the other, happier quarter in board shorts, and ends up right next to your chair, an arm resting on the bench in front of you.

If you weren't already so nervous about Bart, you would blush about Jack.

"At least tell me you're glad to see me."

You grin, which is less forced then you thought it would be prior to trying it. Damn, he's good. You think, realising he just swepped in here and made you comfortable in less then 50 words. "Always, 'Uncle Jack'."

"Oh," He groans, like it physically pained him to hear you tease him like that. A tiny smirk even slips through his usually emotionless - well, not emotionless. He has one standing colour, that being sly, - stone statue of a face. "'Uncle Jack'- Please, stop. I'm barely a decade older then you."

That's enough to make anything else possible, inappropriate. Unfortunately. "Hey, I said I'm glad to see you." You wink, a bit sly yourself. "Count your blessings."

His grin widens a bit, like the dangerously charming Cheshire cat-type that he is. Genes that Chuck inherited, clearly, if his track record with girls say anything at all, but that Bart obviously missed out on. "You've got a point."

"She's a remarkable young woman." Bart pipes up, making your stomach tie itself up in knots again, and you immediately revert your gaze to your lap. Remarkable young woman... you want to barf. "Who, I was actually having a conversation with before you burst in here, unannounced." He takes a slow sip of his drink, then mutters. "And uninvited."

"Well that's great." Jack straightens up, clapping his hands together and finally showing his teeth in a smile. They're really freaken white, compared to his skin, deeply tanned by the hot Australian sun. "A visit would be kinda uncomfortable without a conversation; I'll join. I can converse with the best of 'em, Bart. I assure you."

"It was private." The old man sneers, thinking that he's got the upper hand on Jack, and all you can do is hope to god that he's wrong.

Jack turns his head back to look at you, and you meet his gaze tentatively. Your eyes scream, 'Please don't leave me alone with that guy'. He promptly looks back to Bart. "Well Bart why don't we ask the lady in the room what she wants? We are gentlemen here aren't we?" Then Jack makes a face, all crumpled up and unsure, for a moment. "Err. Well actually... 'gentleman' might be a bold faced lie. We'll ask anyway. Y/N! Do you mind if I weigh in here?"

"Not at all." You say quickly, flashing a tiny, thankful smile. He gives you another wink- this time actually subtle. So Bart didn't see it. Your smile gets a little bit bigger, relaxing. He's got you.

"Great." You watch him pull out the stool beside you, that Chuck - who has still not returned from his phone call with Blair. You assume some, likely cruel vengeance must be involved. Possibly involving that Humphrey guy, - had vacated and settles down in it. He then sets his arms firmly on the bench and looks up attentively at Bart, not breaking eye contact with him. Boy these Bass's like their stare downs. "So?" He prompts, expectantly. And a little arrogantly- a Bass speciality that you truly don't mind at all. "What's on the agenda, today?"

Bart glares heatedly, back.

~

Throughout the awkward discussion between the three of you, which your good friend Chuck has yet to return to discover - at this point you're resigned to him having climbed out the window and scaled the building probably, - , Jack constantly, skilfully changes the subject for you whenever Bart rears to close to somewhere uncomfortable. He makes jokes that make you laugh, he nudges you with his elbow at times - but never touches you any more then that, although you honestly wouldn't mind it if he did, - and takes the attention off you a lot. At times you truly thought you saw steam come out of Bart's ears.

When finally Bart gives up and excuses himself, saying he as an early dinner with Lily, you feel exhausted and relieved. After the door swings shut behind him, you cover your face with your hands and deeply sigh.

"So, what was that about? You looked like a trapped mouse. I recognise that look, I invented that look." You pull back slightly from your hands and glance over at him, to see him thoughtful for a moment. "Well, not by making it. By... causing... it... Either way, it was not good." He shakes his head, taking a sip of his own drink - scotch, - that he made Bart pour for him; Raising his eyebrows at you for an explanation over the rim of the glass.

Jack's always been great, like this. Even when he was horrible, he was the lesser of two evils between him and Bart. Good for a laugh and quality eye candy in a pinch- and that counts for a hell of a lot when it comes to surviving Bart Bass and the Upper East Side. And he had the power and pull of an adult, but knew what the hell was going on like one of you.

So he always made you feel at ease.

You ruffle your hair back, and sigh, straightening your back finally from their hunched over position they live in when you're uncomfortable and pushing back your shoulders. "He was just, saying some weird stuff... and Chuck disappeared to talk to Blair." At that, Jack nods in total understanding. Like ah, yeah. Got ya. Finally, you shrug. "He just makes me really uncomfortable. No offence, but I hate your brother."

As you watch Jack's eyes don't even flicker; He's totally on board with what you've said. Then he finishes the rest of his scotch in one gulp. "Ahh- I hate him too."

"As do we all." Chuck's voice suddenly pops up, as he appears in the doorway like Jack had earlier. You have to practice some serious self control so as to not laugh, at Chuck so coincidentally turning up again at the perfect moment to proclaim his hatred for his father. Jack grins back at Chuck coldly, nodding. Yeah. "Anyway, Y/N, I apologise but I'll be having to abandon you. Blair's waiting for me at her, empty, apartment." He pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, in perfect Chuck Bass fashion, and you roll your eyes, grinning. Jack smirks. "But you're welcome to stick around a while and help yourself to the amenities All on my tab, of course. Good to see you again, Jack." Then he pockets his phone and heads toward the door. The second Bass of the day leaves the building.

"Bye, nephew!" Jack waives as the elevator doors close behind Chuck then swiftly turns around back to you, to which you raise your eyebrows. "So, what do we do now?"

"I dunno." Shrugging you grin and turn your stool to angle your legs towards Jack. "When Chuck says those magical words 'All on my tab'," Those words, oh; You speak them with just as much raw, breathy sexual arousal as the man himself would. As the words demand. 'All on my tab'. Good lord, sex if they were words. "I tend to take advantage."

"An easy girl to please; That's what I like to see." Your cheeks flame up at those words out of Jack's mouth as he turns to look down at the room service menu. Yes, Jack Bass has toed the line, between platonic and flirtatious since the very moment you met the man... but that seemed a little bit more then toeing the line.

And you get a far different reaction to him doing it then you do the other Bass brother.

You don't even really mind the implications of his words.

"You're staying back with me?" You ask, feeling hopeful at the idea.

"Yeah well, I cant in, uh, good conscience," He makes a bit of a show to you, of pressing his hand to his chest totally earnestly as those words 'good conscience' come out of his mouth. "leave you here unguarded in case Bart comes back, can I? Besides, the way you said 'All on my tab'- man, you could sell moonshine at an AA meeting with that voice."

"Ha," You laugh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. "Well, thanks."

"Oh. Don't thank me. You're just using what uh, your mama gave you. I actually encourage you totally, to do that more often- "

"No!" You exclaim, sighing in exasperation; But there is still a smile on your face you cant seem to shake. "For not leaving, today. When you walked in. It would've sucked if you had, not that I would've blamed you at all."

"Hey, just call me your knight in shining armour." He doesn't look up from the menu, flicking through it. Then turns to you with one of those beach boy/politician, toothless grins of his. "Besides you were automatically, my favourite person in the apartment. I mean, anyone with... uhhh- different, appendages to what I have, instantly gets a one-way ticket access to my rare bouts of chivalry. Now come over here, pick out what you want off here."

You just gape at him and that comment, making him stifle a laugh and return to the menu himself.

Bass's.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 4

Masterlist

Thank you as always to my best friend and Beta reader @acollectionofficsandshit​ for putting up with me and my ramblings ♥

Word Count: 3.8k

Recommended song: "ily (I love you baby)" by Surf Mesa and Emilee

You'd never been more thankful that you kept a change of clothes in your car than you were after the race at Silverstone. You'd showered again, changing back into the sweaty tee and leggings. The clean emergency hoodie and jeans were a blessing, and casual enough for a night on the town.

Most of the crew had left, only a few poor souls pouring over race data or packing up essentials. James let you into the trailer yard this time without hesitation. "We really should just get you a key," He teases, "Sure would make my life easier."

Rolling your eyes, you give the tower of muscle a pitiful shove. He doesn't move an inch. "Thanks James. I'll ask Pierre to look into it."

A sudden wave of tiredness washes over you when you make it back to the trailer. You flip through the channels on the tiny television, settling on an analysis of the day’s race.

“And a brilliant drive from young Pierre Gasly, wasn’t it John?”

“I completely agree Martin. Gasly took advantage of every slip up by Mercedes and Red Bull and he has to be commended for that. Max made some rare mistakes and…”

You smile to yourself, their praise washing over you. Yawning, you curl up on Pierre's bed, the familiar smell of cedar lulling you into a light sleep in minutes.

**********

A gentle touch to your cheek wakes you some hours later. You crack your eyes open, greeted by a smile brighter than the stars in the night sky. You taste eternal sunshine on his lips when you kiss him, your soul sparking in response to his light.

"Good morning," He murmurs, thumb rubbing along your jaw. "Sleep well?"

You snuggle closer to him, eyes closing once more as you soak up the warmth. "Is it time to go out already?"

"It is. But we can stay here if you want to." He brushes a stray hair off your face. The gesture is so tender, if you didn’t know any better you’d never guess he could turn into the seasoned, take-no-shit racer you’d seen hours before. 

You shake your head. You couldn't let him miss out on celebrating his victory with his closest friends. Besides, you hadn't seen any of them for a span of time longer than a few minutes in months, and truth be told, you missed them all. 

Those boys had a knack for turning the simplest of outings into unforgettable adventures. You had been sworn to secrecy on numerous occasions after Pierre recounted drunken escapades that usually ended with Max sleeping somewhere preposterous, like a claw-footed bathtub in a fancy suite.

“Where are we going?” You ask sleepily. “Somewhere nearby?”

Pierre tugs you up until you’re sitting. He pulls you back against his chest, arms wrapping around you as he sets his chin on your shoulder. “Yeah. Maybe ten minutes away.”

You lean your full weight against him, admiring how perfectly your bodies slot together. “Can I leave my car here?”

“As long as you’re okay with it staying here until tomorrow, that’s fine.” He coaxes you to stand and presses a kiss to your temple as a reward. Your limbs are still heavy and uncooperative. Pierre winds an arm around your waist, supporting you and assuming the position of your rock as he always did.

"You don't sleep here," You state simply, looking at him for confirmation. He shakes his head.

"Wouldn't be enough room for two anyway." He gestures to the tiny twin sized bed and shrugs.

Your brow furrows. “Am I staying with you tonight?” You honestly had not considered it. The jet usually left early and you had assumed he would want to get as much rest as possible. But now that you had experienced waking up next to him, you realize how much you want his face to be the first thing you see when you open your eyes each morning.

“Of course you’re staying with me. I’m taking every second of your time that I can get.”

You bite your lip and lay your head on his shoulder. The idea of falling asleep in his arms was enough to shake any lingering sleepiness. “Okay.” Confident that you could hold yourself up, you step out of his grasp. “Ready.”

The few mechanics roaming about the grounds are enough to keep you cautious. You walk through the paddock a hair's breadth apart, although every nerve screams for you to touch him. Every time your arm grazes his, electricity ripples across your skin. All you want to do is hold his hand, but there’s enough prying eyes that you restrain the impulse.

You can tell he feels it too by the way his fingers curl and uncurl at his sides. And he's biting his cheek, you notice. A nervous habit of his and a clear indicator that he'd retreated inside his own head, likely contemplating if he'd truly deserved to win today or not.

Every few months his doubts crept in, the devil on his shoulder reminding him that Horner hadn't deemed him good enough to keep his seat at Red Bull after only a handful of races.

You'll never be as talented as them, is what you'd imagined it whispered. They're only here because they pity you. What makes you think you deserve a seat?

It couldn't be farther from the truth. Deep down, Pierre knew that. Driving in Formula 1 meant being under constant scrutiny from the public and sportscasters. Making an error meant debates about whether you were good enough and rumors about seat security.

There were no such errors today. You'd heard the commentary after the race; everyone was raving about his performance. Not one person had dared say he didn't deserve it.

Not wanting him to suffer alone, you subtly wrap your pinky finger around his. "You're okay," You say softly, his head whipping to you. "You deserved that trophy today. It was some of the best driving I've ever seen, everyone agrees. You deserve a trophy every time you get in that car. You'll always be my champion, even if the world tells you otherwise."

It takes a moment for it to sink in, but he nods and releases your pinkie. "You're my grounding rod," He says, lips curling in a knowing smile, and you can't hold back your laugh.

"Leave it to you to turn a romantic moment into a cheesy one." Instead of saying you're my rock like any normal person, he had to bring up the time you'd embarrassed yourself at the bar a year or so ago. He'd let you prattle on to poor Dan about building grounding rods of all things, and how you'd thought your professor's way of designing such a system was flawed. Pierre would never let you live that down, it seemed.

Max spots the two of you first, waving from where the boys had gathered outside Red Bull. “About time you showed up! We’ve been waiting for ten minutes!”

“She fell asleep,” Pierre says simply, his confidence back. “Takes her awhile to wake up.”

“Whatever, I’m just glad you’re here,” Daniel says, throwing an arm around your shoulders and tucking you tight to his side. You couldn’t help the broad smile creeping onto your face, twin to the aussie’s as you hug him back. 

“We missed you,” Charles says, falling into step beside you. “I never hear from you anymore!”

You grimace. It was true, while the three boys had texted you quite frequently the past few months, you had barely responded to them. You felt guilty about it, knowing they were taking time out of their packed schedules to catch up. But uni had been kicking your ass and the only one you’d found time for was Pierre. Looking back, you were glad he had been the exception.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” You say. “Lots of projects.”

“And that new internship,” Max points out. Your eyebrows flick up, gaze flicking to Pierre. You had been awarded an internship a month or so ago at a local engineering firm in London. It was only part time work, a few hours a week, but it was enough. The only one you had told was Pierre.

Pierre grins, the gesture a silent apology. “I may have spilled the beans.” 

You cut him a glare, the others laughing at your attempt at being intimidating. But you couldn’t turn away from him, not when he was looking at you with the same pride you had felt when he’d won earlier that day. 

“Uber’s here,” Charles announces, checking his phone.

“Where?” Daniel asks, and Charles indicates a black SUV parked at the curb. Daniel and Max exchange a look, shouting “Shotgun!” at the same time. Both boys break into a full sprint, feet pounding on the pavement. Daniel wins - barely, leaving Max and Charles to squeeze into the back seat.

Pierre follows you into the third row of seats, his hand immediately engulfing yours. Your stomach flips, glancing up to find a reassuring smile on his face. You could barely focus on what was said for the first half of the ride, hyperaware of the callouses rubbing your skin. The world around you erupts into color at the touch, completing the part of you that you’d never realized was missing. 

The remainder of the drive is filled with laughter, jokes, and plenty of selfies with the driver. It wasn’t every day one could brag about having four world class drivers in your car; you couldn’t blame the man for being excited.

By the time you arrive at the bar, your sides are already splitting with laughter. “First round is on you, Ricciardo,” Charles says, wagging a finger at him. “Punishment for bringing up the Abu Dhabi incident again!”

“Jokes on you, I was already planning on it!” He glances at you and winks. “Gotta congratulate the winner somehow, right?” Little did the Australian know, you had already congratulated Pierre a few hours ago, and you doubted that a few shots would outshine that performance. You hope the pink tinge that rises to your cheeks with the memory isn't obvious and you duck your head just in case.

A blast of air conditioning hits you as you all stumble into the bar. All eyes fell to you and the ragtag group of drivers when you entered, silence blanketing the patrons. The bartender slams a fist on the wooden bartop, rattling glasses and making you flinch.

“Been wonderin’ when you lot were gonna show your ugly mugs!”

Daniel, Max and Charles erupt into friendly laughter, shaking the man’s hand and making small talk. You look to Pierre for an explanation.

“Tradition,” He murmurs. The noise returned to a normal level around you, though you could feel the glances thrown your way. “We come here every year, but only if one of us wins at Silverstone. Been awhile since that happened.”

"Ah," You say, nodding dramatically. "Yes, very long time." Pierre grins, shaking his head.

"Who won this year?" The man - William, Pierre informs you- asks. He towered over you when you sat on the sticky bar stool, tall and lanky but well muscled and certainly not someone you would expect patrons to try disrespecting. He was already pouring five shots of a fine Irish Whiskey, waving Daniel off when he tried to start a tab. “My treat.”

Max claps a hand on Pierre's shoulder. "This one claimed the crown, for once!"

"Wey hey!" William says, passing out the shots. "Everyone else crash out or what?"

"You should watch the replay," You say, knocking Pierre's shoulder with your own. "It was amazing. The move he used to get past Max-" you bring your pinched fingers to your lips in a chef's kiss. "Gorgeous."

"Much to Max's despair," Charles adds, raising his shot. "To the underdog!"

You all echo the sentiment, the boys knocking back the strong alcohol with practiced ease. It didn't go down as smooth for you, burning your throat and making you wince.

Daniel laughs. "Not used to drinking with us anymore, huh?"

"Must have lost my edge," You say, the woody taste lingering in your mouth. "I'm sure it'll hit me hard in a half hour or so, too."

**********

Well, you weren't wrong about the alcohol hitting you like a punch to the gut. Two shots later and you were swaying like a sailor on his first excursion out to sea, Pierre's shoulder the only thing keeping you from toppling off the bar stool. 

Pierre's eyes were bright as the others poked fun at him, William joining in with a witty remark now and then. His laugh wrapped around you like a warm blanket, keeping you content and grounded.

"Hey Pierre," Daniel says at one point, "Don't look now but that table of girls has been obsessed with you all night."

Pierre, blitzed as he was, pays no attention to Dan's warning and turns around. A loopy grin was plastered on his face, turning back and shaking his head.

You may not have been able to think straight, but your stomach lurches. Instantly sobering slightly, you follow Dan's gaze to the indicated table to your left. Three beautiful women sat there, whispering behind their hands and clearly speaking about Pierre. One bit her lip and caught your eye, giggling. Her looks were universally attractive enough that she would be anyone’s type, Pierre included. The possessiveness in the gaze she raked over his body set your blood boiling. 

This… was not a scenario you wanted to play out. You didn't know if Pierre was ready to tell his friends about your relationship yet. You knew he wouldn't let any of those girls have the light of day, but he might let them fawn over him a little, just to protect your secret. And it would kill you, but you would have no choice but to let it happen.

"I'm good," Pierre says, sipping the beer he had been nursing all night.

"Come on mate," Max pushes, a wicked grin on his flushed face, "That blonde is so your type."

No she isn't.

You’re already staring up at Pierre when he turns to you. You have always worn your emotions on your sleeve for anyone to see, and it only got worse when mixed with alcohol. Pierre smiles softly, taking mercy on you. Slowly, he takes your hand and threads your fingers together before turning back to the boys.

"One of you can tell them I’m not interested. I already have my girl." 

Heart beating wildly, you scan your friends faces. They were all wide eyed and slack jawed, staring at your joined hands. Pierre gives your hand a gentle squeeze, reminding you to breathe. He read you like an open book, offering reassurance when you needed it most.

"It's about fucking time!" Daniel roars, breaking the tense silence. Your shoulders relax, grinning along with the others. Pierre beams at you, knocking your shoulder to say I told you so. 

"Does this mean I get a break from listening to you obsess over her every weekend?" Max asks, giving you a meaningful look. 

"Likely not," Pierre answers. "I'm still just as obsessed as before. Maybe more." Max pretends to gag, earning him a playful punch from Charles. God, it was so freeing for your relationship to be more open, even if it was just between your closest friends. 

"I'd just like to point out that I told you two this would happen years ago," Charles says matter of factly, pointing at Max and Dan. "Should've taken you up on that bet."

Your mouth hung open. "You were going to bet on us being a couple?"

"Oh come on," Max says, rolling his eyes. "We all knew it was coming eventually. We just didn't know when!"

Pink stains your cheeks, but Pierre laughs and leans in to kiss you. Remembering the girls behind you, you press a little closer to him. Under the guise of placing a kiss to his cheek, you meet the blonde's eyes and smile sweetly.

The woman preens, mouth twisting. Good. Pierre was yours, and now that he'd admitted it, you could let those girls know it. His hand slips to your thigh, squeezing hard. A clear warning that you were venturing into dangerous territory. You didn't care.

The alcohol in your veins makes you bold, and you want to drive your point home. They could look all they wanted, but he was coming home with you. You push the boundary farther and bite the soft skin of his neck just hard enough to leave a mark. Pierre's hiss finally makes you pull back and look up at him innocently.

"Get a room," Daniel teases with a wink. You smile at him, mumbling an insincere apology. Your point had been made. The arrogant smirk had been wiped from the woman’s face, replaced with a grimace. 

"I think it is time for us to get going," Pierre says, annoyance flashing across his face. Oh, you had stoked the fire and now you would have to face the consequences. 

"We're just getting started," Charles complains. Pierre slaps a few bills on the counter and gets up without responding. 

"Bye guys!" You call over your shoulder as Pierre drags you towards the door. They all wave back, Max's lower lip jutting out in a pout. Your eyes slid one more time to the blonde, who had her arms crossed over her chest. You give her a wicked, taunting grin and return her earlier wink.

Pierre halts so quickly that you run into him. “Why are we leaving?”

“You know why,” He growls, flagging down a cab. “You didn't like how she was looking at me, so you did something about it. You might not have noticed, but every man in that bar had their eyes on you. So I’m following your example and doing something about it.”

Your brow furrows. Pierre won’t meet your gaze, and your eyes fall to the purple mark on his neck. You didn’t like his tone; it bordered dangerously on anger. “Are you… Are you mad that I did that?”

Tears threaten to spill when he finally looks at you. God, you were a blubbering drunk.  When your lip wobbles, his anger fades and he sighs. “I’m not mad. I just… I didn’t think you’d want me flaunting our relationship yet. When you did this-” He gestures to his neck- “I could barely keep my hands off you. Not when I saw the guy walking up to you.”

You sniff, trying to conjure the image of the bar. “I didn’t notice anyone.”

“Yeah, cause I dragged you out here before he could say anything.” Pierre pulls his hood up and sighs. “Trying to catch a cab here is harder than overtaking Hamilton.”

You laugh harder than you should at the off-hand remark, following after him as he trudges down the sidewalk. “Why are you not drunk? I feel like you should be drunk. You won a race. They were feeding you shots one after another.”

“One of us had to be responsible and make sure we got home okay.” He smiles over his shoulder at you. “And I knew as soon as you had that first shot it would have to be me. Didn’t you notice me handing the shots to the other guys?”

“No,” You say, rubbing your eyes. “What about the boys? How are they gonna get home?” Pierre stops, forcing you to do the same. He tugs your hood up, makes sure his is secure enough to hide his face, and grabs your hand.

“I already told Seb to come round them up in an hour or so. They’ll be fine.”

You don’t respond, too busy trying to put one foot in front of the other and not fall on your face. It doesn’t help that your vision is a tad blurry. Finally you give up and whine, “How much further?”

“It’s right there,” He says, pointing at a towering glass building just across the street. “In five minutes, you can be tucked into a cozy, fluffy suite and you can rest all you want, my love.”

You hum at the words, warmth flooding your veins from more than the liquor. “I like that.”

“What, the building?” He asks, amused. He helps you cross the empty street, making sure you’re paying attention to where you’re going.

“Noooo, what you said,” You clarify, leaning on him as you try to navigate the handful of steps leading to the hotel.

He’s quiet until you reach the elevator. “My love,” He murmurs, and you grin up at him.

“Mon… mon coeur,” You manage to say, somehow pulling the French phrase out of the dregs of your memory. The words are slurred and you know that you absolutely botch the pronunciation, but the intent is clear. You may have lived in France since you were 18, but learning the language wasn’t a requirement when almost everyone knew english as well. But the two of you had spent many hours watching Pierre’s favorite french films over the years; some of it must have unintentionally rubbed off on you.

A disbelieving smile tugs at his lips. “How do you even know what that means?”

You shrug. “Just do.” The elevator doors open and you step out, Pierre following. You halt, not knowing which hall to take. You glance up at your companion for help, only to find him staring back at you. “What?”

He shakes his head and leads you down the corridor to his room. It's a spacious corner suite, with huge windows facing Silverstone that give him a perfect view of the track. You make for the window but Pierre’s hand on your wrist stops you.

“I don’t think so, it’s time for you to sleep.”

“But I just wanna see,” You protest weakly.

“Nice try. I know you. You’ll sit in front of that window for hours if I let you.”

You give in only because he was right. Cityscapes of any kind drew your attention like a moth to a flame. You pouted anyway, but let him take you to the bedroom. Gentle pressure on your shoulders had you sinking into the plush mattress, groaning at the luxurious softness. Pierre laughs as he helps you out of your shoes and jeans, leaving the hoodie.

Eyelids drooping, you climb under the covers Pierre had pulled back for you. He tucks you in and kisses your temple. You grab for him, tugging on his shirt until he stoops down and gives you a proper kiss. When he steps out of your grasp, you panic.

“Stay,” You mumble, fear bubbling in your chest. He had to stay, he couldn’t leave, not when you only had this one night left-

“I’m just taking off my shoes,” He assures you, his weight sliding in behind you to settle against your back. You sigh, moulding yourself to him as best you could. Being in his arms was somehow familiar, even if he’d never held you like this. It felt like home.

“Pierre?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Pillowy soft lips press to the nape of your neck. “I love you too, mon coeur.”

Tagging: @flashcal

[hisfavoritecherry]

right place, right time

summary: harry decides to take a trip to japan in an attempt to take his mind off of some things; that is, until one of the things finds its way back to him. 

warning: sadness, degredation, smut, all that good stuff

word count: 3.2k+

January 6, 2019; Tokyo, Japan. 

Harry would have never expected to find himself here. Well, he did at some points, but the ideas were never conclusive and he had never actually envisioned himself booking a flight, taking the plane, and arriving in the city that one of his most treasured books was based off of. The trip was obviously an irrational decision and after tour, there was no place he would’ve rather been (other than home, but even that didn’t feel like the right choice at the moment). He needed a new area, a new location, a new setting; to put it simply, a new place to miss you. 

You and Harry had broken things off just shortly before he went away for work, explaining that you just couldn’t handle him being away for that long and that maybe, just maybe, it was for the best. You were starting your new job as a journalist for the New York Times and it was a big step in your career for you, and you knew that there should be absolutely nothing that would prevent you from achieving it. Even him. 

He agreed, obviously, as he’s always respected you and your aspirations and he knew that he didn’t want to be the one thing that was holding you back. He’s encouraged you to do everything you can to do what you want to do as you’ve encouraged him to do the same, and even if it broke his heart, you deserved it more than anyone he’s ever known in his twenty-four years of life. You stayed friends and would call every now and then, updating him on gossip in the office or just things happening in your everyday life. You’d ask him about events happening around him as well and he would say the same thing every time. That it’s the same-old, that he’s okay, that he misses you. A smile would creep upon your lips as you knew you felt the same way, but nothing would change, no matter how much you both wanted it to. 

The only remaining problem was that you stayed on his mind the whole time after you had split, and regardless of how many times he tried to stray away from you, the thought of you always spilled back into his mind like ink on paper; you were his familiarity and he was yours.

He would see someone in the crowd who looked like you; there you were. He went on runs when he managed to get days away from the stage and put his playlist on shuffle, hearing the song you both claimed and danced together to in his kitchen that one time; there you were. He visited a random corner cafe and got your order just to see what all the fuss was about but ended up frowning and hating it deeply because it was too sweet; there you were. Every goddamn chance he got, there you were. 

Harry had expected things to change as he disembarked the outing, suggesting that perhaps if he had different people surrounding him, his conceptions would change as well. 

They didn’t. It worsened, in fact, and he ended up seeing you more wherever he went. Every face, every place, every name, it brought him back to you and he eventually accepted that you would never go away, or at least would go away in slivers at a time. So to take his mind off of the idea of you for the meanwhile, he used most of his days and nights to go out with friends and find new individuals to satisfy his cravings for the ghost of you. Not sex, or anything else, he simply just found new things to fill the void and help him ignore the pain he was so evidently feeling.

It’s currently February 1. The day he was dreading, his now second birthday without you next to him. Harry decided to spend today at Sarutahiko Coffee, a cozy cafe just a few blocks down from where he was staying. Partying and going out to karaoke with his friends was fun, hell, sometimes he thought about dropping everything and moving here just to be able to live this lifestyle, but it did get tiring at some points, and there is nothing else he’d rather be doing than perching up against a corner in the shop and reading his book right now.

The work of choice held tightly in his grip is The People Look Like Flowers at Last by Charles Bukowski, reading the poems flowing from the creme-colored pages and writing thoughts in a journal kept close to him about things that stood out the most. 

 “A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.”

What a load of donkey shit, Harry thought to himself. Love was nothing but heavy unfair baggage to him now, and he no longer believed in it. Not if he didn’t get to have you.

He chuckles to himself softly at the notion, jotting it down onto the paper and crossing it out immediately after.

It’s pathetic to Harry. How he was acting this way towards your relationship with him, how looked at the situation so negatively and sourly. He loved you so much that everytime he saw you, his breath hitched and he felt as if his heart would pump out of his chest. That every step you took closer to him, it would land him closer to a casket or his deathbed.

The bell tolls and he doesn’t bother tilting his head to see if it’s a customer coming in or leaving, as it’s been occurring all day and he just doesn’t pay mind to the action anymore. He continues to let his eyes touch every word on the page but abruptly stops when he recognizes a tone of voice. 

“Hi, how are you?”

It’s not her. Can’t be. Wouldn’t be. She’s not even in Tokyo.

Nonetheless, he looks up in the most subtle form of curiosity beaming from his aura. 

There you were. Your head cocking to the side, smiling at the cashier taking your order as you speak broken Japanese in an hasty endeavor to communicate with them. You’re dressed in a flowy white dress covered in tiny pink flowers attached to green leaves, hugging your waist in all the right places and a nude bag clutched around your shoulder. Around your back and arms is the baby pink cardigan Harry gave to you for your twenty-first birthday, the one he was so strangely excited to give to you because secretly, he knew he would be able to take the material off of you once the party was over and everyone had gone home.

He’s stunned and stopped in place now, his eyes wide open as he had no clue what to do at this point.

As if the stars had aligned in place at the perfect time, you’re standing in front of him and it feels like he can’t move.

He had only ever spoken to you through calls, not getting the chance to Facetime because he never had the time to while he was away, and you look different. A good different. Your hair is a little longer than he last saw you and tinted lighter, and it’s apparent that your skin is glowing now. Not a pregnancy glow, he hopes.

He snaps out of his trance as you grab your latte off of the counter, turning to find a seat around the cafe and freezing as you both make eye contact. Your heart stops at the sight of him. Him. The person you missed so goddamn dearly and the person you’ve been yearning for since the day you broke up. The person who’s kissed you when you were nervous, who held you when you were scared. The person you’re still in love with to this day, no matter the lengthy amount of time you’ve spent apart. 

A few seconds pass and you start to make your way to the area he’s sitting alone at. You’re praying in this time that he isn’t here with someone else, but in return, he smiles at you. The kind of smile you love, when his dimple pops out and his pearly brights show through. He’s the sun.

“Harry,” you breathe softly, lips curling into a grin. The sound of his name erupting from your mouth makes your lungs skip a beat as you haven’t said it at all in what? A year now?

“Y/N,” he says in return.

“Mind if I sit?” 

He purses his lips and hastily moves all of his belongings over, making space for your arrival. 

“Be my guest.” 

Your perfume dials into his brain as you sit and he smiles at the easily recognized scent. The silence between the two of you now is deafening and to be frank, annoying. You wish you could hold him in your arms again and tell him you missed him and you love him and that this whole time, all you’ve ever wanted to do was call him and find your way back to him, but you don’t. You can’t. Not here, at least. 

“So-”

“You-” You both start speaking at once.

“Whoops, my bad. You go first,” you say softly, pressing your lips into a line which makes him laugh gently.

“I was going to say, y’ look good, Y/N.” 

Your heart stops once more and everything comes rushing back to you.

The first time he kissed you, the first time he held your hand, the first time you made love, the first time you fucked, the last time you kissed, the last time he held your hand, the last time you made love, the last time you fucked.

“Thank you,” you look down out of pure nervousness as you don’t want to mess it up. “You do too, I’ve missed you.”

A moment of stillness is shared between you two and you instantly regret saying it, God knows if he feels the same way and if he could be missing someone else who isn’t you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, forget I said that, please.”

“No, s’ all good, was just registering into my brain that you actually said that,” he pauses, running his hands through the chestnut locks held atop his head. You never noticed but his hair has grown a large amount, almost touching his neck now. He’s wearing a light brown cardigan around a white tee shirt, sunglasses hanging off of the edge of the material. His eyes are duller and he looks more tired, worrying you, but you don’t want to fuss just yet about why that is.

“I missed you too.”

You both smile and nod together, almost as if in sync and you observe that although it’s awkward now, it’s a comforting kind of awkward and you know that he’s finally here in front of you, with a blatantly inviting heart and the softest smile to grant you access to it. 

“So what are you doing in Tokyo?” he asks, taking a sip from the mug filling to the brim with black coffee that seems like he didn’t bother touching since the moment he arrived. 

“I could ask you the same thing. But I’m here just to visit, work’s been on my ass and I just needed a way to escape. I worked my ass off everyday since my first day on the job and I never slacked. Not once. But it gets tiring, y’ know, so I was like, Japan seems like a cool option. So I used up my savings and booked a flight. Been here for a few days. Weird that we ended up at the same time, though, I guess,” you giggle delicately and it sounds like music to Harry’s ears, a melody he hasn’t heard in what feels like forever. He stays silent in response as he puzzles together in his mind how this could have happened. How you managed to come to the same cafe as him, at the same time, in the same city. Right place, right time, he suggests to himself.

“And you?”

You like that about Harry. You like that you’re able to spill your heart out to him and he would accept all of it with open arms, listening as closely as he possibly can and registering every spoken word into his brain. 

“After tour ended, I was weighing all the possible options on where I could spend the time writing the next record and getting my mind off of some other shit, an’ I guess we had the same idea of randomly choosing Japan.”

“Yeah? Where are you staying?” you ask quietly, tiny hands curling around the cup of your liquid of choice. You realize that maybe it was a bit of a reach to ask, but you’re curious and you’re almost positive he’s the same. 

“I can show you if y’ want,” Harry taps his fingers against the wooden table dividing the two of you and you nod in response, and him mentally breathing out in relief that it didn’t backfire onto him. You had no plans for the rest of today, anyways, other than exploring the city a bit more, and it wouldn’t hurt to check the place out for a few minutes or so. You both grab your belongings, heading towards the exit and smiling at the workers who do the same in return. 

You walk a mere five minutes in silence before arriving at a tall brick-built building. You assume it’s an apartment complex and he unlocks the main entrance, heading towards a set of doors that end up being an elevator. You both pile into the lifting device and he clicks the number 10.

“S’ nice,” you say softly, tugging at the hem of your dress-skirt. He nods in response and folds his arms together. 

Harry’s heart is racing faster than he can think and it feels like time is going slower than usual. It’s never normal for him to be anxious or nervous like this around you, you’re his sense of calmness and the only person he feels like he can totally know himself with.

But he can’t wait any longer. He doesn’t want to lose you again, not like this. 

Harry steps in front of you, eyes peering down and his hands tuck around the back of your neck. Your hands absentmindedly wrap around his waist, and you know what’s going to happen next but honestly, you’re so grateful for it.

“If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it?”

He smiles at you once more before cocking his head to the side and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’ll have to see for yourself.” You don’t let another moment pass before eagerly smashing your lips against his, him pressing you up against the elevator wall and wrapping your leg around his middle. He tastes like mint and forgotten love, the sweet tang of the person you’ve missed so fucking much. You can feel him hardening against your center as your lips move together in sync, releasing from each other’s embrace as Harry moves down to your neck and leaves soft pecks around the area. He moves up to the spot right behind your ear that he knows makes you go crazy, which makes your cunt ache for him and only him.

The elevator dings above your frames and he pulls off of you immediately, the both of you moving to the side of one another as an elderly lady enters. You look up to see Harry smirking to himself with his lips pressed into a line and you nudge his side while rolling your eyes, him chuckling in return.

It doesn’t take long before you arrive at his floor, his fingers intertwining with yours as he leads you to the exit and towards his door. He fumbles with his keys for a moment as you lean up to suck the nape of his neck fervidly, leaving marks as you go and him groaning tacitly.

“And don’t think I forgot that it’s your birthday,” you whisper against his ear, giggling and kissing against it as he’s finally able to get it unlocked. He pushes the door open to reveal a large penthouse that you don’t get a second to look around before you’ve dropped down to your knees, trembling as you unbuckle the belt around his waist. You don’t want to admit it but this is the first time you’ve both ever gotten laid since you ended things and you never would have guessed that this would’ve been with each other. Harry throws the stack of books previously held in his clutch onto the couch nearby and helps you tug down his jeans, his black briefs now in vision and erection planted directly in front of you. You stroke him through the material and leave kisses across it, making your way to the tip of it and pulling the briefs down with your teeth. He hisses at the teasing action with glistening eyes and you can’t help but smirk to yourself at the sight of it, grabbing him between your fingers and using them to move down his shaft. You’re looking up at him now and his head is thrown back, moaning at the feeling of pent-up deprivation finally being taken care of. 

You use your tongue to swirl around the tip, catching any of the precum dribbling from his cock in the swells of your mouth and he grabs a handful of your hair to guide you through it.

“Fuck, jus’ like that,” he pauses, using his strength to bob your head up and down but making sure it’s only the amount of him you’re able to take. “I’ve missed you, baby,”

Tears begin to gather at the crease of your eyelids before he releases his grip each time, and it doesn’t take long before he’s picking you up and carrying you to his bedroom. You whine in irritation and make rebuttals for him to put you down and he pats your ass, placing you down softly onto the mattress and continuing to work his way around your heart-shaped lips. He pulls up the material around your body and throws it to the other side of the room to reveal that surprisingly, you aren’t wearing any bra or panties, and his breath hitches before taking a moment to himself and placing his hands onto you once more. It’s obvious that he’s trying to be as delicate as he possibly can with you but to be honest, that is the last thing you want right now.  

“Harry,” you breathe out, cursing to yourself as he kisses tenderly down your torso. He tilts his head in reaction; you’ve always been very vocal with each other about affection and sex and how you wanna go about it so it wouldn’t hurt to be that way now too.

“Please,” you breathe out. “Be rough with me, I need you so much,” you beg, him humming as a silent notion of ‘are you sure?’ and you nod in return. Harry’s finger dips through your soaked folds, digit swirling over your sensitive nub and using his other hand to hold your hips down as they buck up against him. Propping yourself up onto your elbows to watch him work, you whine his name over and over as his mouth is now attached to your heat, him moaning from enjoyment in response as well. He pulls away and you can’t help but want to scream at him for it, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. As much as he wants you, he wants to know that you’re just as needy and eager for his entrance. 

“What do y’ want, princess? Hm?” He taunts, pushing his thumb against your clit harder. 

“I want-” He presses harder, which makes you cry out louder.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” you mumble quietly and he halts his movements completely, making you squirm and wrap your fingers around his arm in a poor attempt to reattach his touch back to you. 

“What was that?” You know he heard you the first time but needs to hear you beg for him once more.

“I want you to fuck me Harry, make me c-cum, please,” you tremble and it doesn’t take another second for him to pull his weight up before wrapping his hand around his cock firmly and hooking his other onto your thigh. He doesn’t give you time to re-adjust before sinking himself into you and letting out a groan, the moan coming from your lips sounding like a symphony to his perception.

“Shit, you’re so wet, all f’ me,” he wants to let you adapt to his length again but instead, decides to start moving himself in and out of you hastily, head dropping to your neck and you use his nape to leave your traces up against. He never expected to end up here, fucking you like this in his bedroom, but that was the last thing on his mind, the first being to make you cum. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Harry,” you plea. “You feel so fucking good,” you cry out for him, sobs being jagged and covered with lust as you move your fingers into his sweat-immersed hair. His face is tinted a bright shade of pink and moisture is leaking down the sides of his face.

“Harder, please, daddy,” the accentuating whines coming from your lips almost mask the nickname you’ve bestowed upon him for the first time since you last made love, but it makes his stomach riddle with butterflies and he follows your request. Harry pushes himself into you harder each time, his fingers trailing down to your center and pinching the skin surrounding your nub. The only noises throughout his whole apartment now is a combination of your moans and the bed softly creaking against the hardwood floor. He knows that you’re close and he is as well, but he wants to make it last longer for your first time together again.

“Y/N,” he groans out, brown curls falling in front of his face. “‘m not going to last long, baby, gonna cum for me? Gonna let me fill you up like the dirty slut you are? Is that what you want?” 

You can only nod in response due to the dryness in your throat from crying out seemingly louder than you ever have and you feel yourself release and clench onto his dick, pinching your eyes shut and seeing fireworks glow against them. A moment passes and Harry loosens the grip from your thigh, stuttering and becoming more sloppy with his thrusts, but soon emptying himself into you and pounding into you one last time, sending chills throughout both of your bodies.

He waits for a while in order to recollect himself and give you a chance to as well, collapsing at your side as you feel his contents spill out of you. You know he’s about to grab something to clean you up with when he begins to move to the edge of the bed but you tug him back, nodding and pouting.

“Don’t leave, not yet,” you say, still out of breath and Harry chuckles quietly before pulling himself back and wrapping his arms around your waist, pecking up against the sweet spot near your neck once more and letting out a sigh. 

“I’m not leaving you ever again, not after what just happened.” You lean over and swat his arm, giggling and pressing your lips against his again. You’re both finally in the place that you’ve been dying to be in for the past year and you realize that maybe the time you spent apart was all worth it if it meant you got to be back here with him, in his arms, in his presence, in his bedroom, in Japan.  

[12timetraveler]

Heyyyy if you’re doing requests could you do a little drabble of Hosea surprising the reader with a gift? 🥺👉👈

If you’re too busy then that’s totally fine, just thought I’d send in the request

Saved this one for when I really needed a pick-me-up so here we are.

Summary: Hosea has been gone on a job for over a week and reader has had the worst week ever without him.

Hosea/reader (I think I kept it pretty gender neutral except for mention of a skirt.)

Cw: hurt and comfort.

~~~~~~~~~

The last ten days had been absolute hell for you. 

Well okay maybe not hell. That was a little dramatic. But a dark storm cloud had been hanging over your head since Hosea left with a few of the other men to run a con out west a ways. You missed your lover desperately. You and Hosea had been officially a couple for nearly two years, and had been flirting coyly for six or seven months before that, starting the moment you’d joined the gang. 

You weren’t the needy sort of partner who needed your beloved’s attention on you all of the time. No it wasn’t just that you missed soft little kisses in the morning to rouse you for the day, or that you missed the feeling of his arms randomly slipping around you throughout the day and pulling you close. Though you did miss all of that terribly. 

But more than that, it was simply his presence that you missed. Seeing him sitting across camp, watching him read to Jack, the way he’d comfort and advise everyone in the gang. Even the little snores he made as he slept beside you. Heaven help you, you even missed the horrible coughing that wracked through his lungs. You just missed HIM. 

On top of missing him, you seemed to be having the worst luck. You burned your hand checking on the stew for Pearson, jabbed a needle so far into your thumb while sewing that Susan had to be the one to pull it out, seemed to trip over your own feet every step you took, stepped on a piece of broken glass barefoot (fortunately the cut hadn’t been too deep, but it stung like hell), and your horse bucked you on the way back from a mail run in town and you’d had to walk back to camp. 

You could hardly remember a worse week, and you just desperately wanted to curl up each night against your lover and whine about everything that was going wrong. But the bedroll next to you was cold and empty, and you found yourself lying awake most nights, not crying exactly. Well not audibly. But tears streamed down your cheeks in those dark hours when you were alone. 

Just when you thought you were about to lose your mind, and that you wouldn’t be able to handle one more second without your sweetheart, Davey called a happy hello from where he stood at the entrance to camp on sentry duty, and you heard a chorus of tired hellos reply. 

You shot to your feet like lightning, dropping the tin plate you were scrubbing back into the tub. You hiked up your skirt and raced toward the hitching posts, where Hosea, along with the three others he’d taken, Charles, Arthur and Lenny, were dismounting. 

Hosea grinned ear-to-ear when he saw you and opened his arms wide. You practically pushed Dutch out of the way as you barreled into Hosea’s arms. Hosea stumbled back a couple steps as his arms enveloped you, falling back against Silver Dollar, who huffed but supported you both without further protest. 

“I missed you,” You whimpered, nuzzling your face against his neck as you clung to him tightly. 

“I missed you too.” He cooed, squeezing you even tighter. "How were things here without me?" 

You didn't respond beyond a soft little noise, somewhere between a whimper and a groan. Hosea pulled back just enough to look at your face. He cupped your cheek in his hand, and his thumb came back wet. Oh shit were you crying? 

"Hosea!" Dutch said cheerfully. "How did it go?"  

Hosea didn't say anything at first, only staring down at you in concern. You leaned your head into his touch and closed your eyes. 

"Just fine," Hosea finally responded to Dutch. "I'll tell you about it all later. Right now I need to hold my darling and rest for a while." He said. 

Dutch let out a chuckle, letting you know exactly what he thought you and Hosea were going to do. Neither of you contradicted him as he went off to greet Arthur. 

Hosea wrapped his arm around you, keeping you close as he loosened Silver Dollar's girth and pulled his saddlebag down from the horse's back. The two of you strode across camp to your tent, unable to let go of each other. 

You closed your tent flaps behind you as Hosea sat down on his bedroll with a tired groan. Your bad week forgotten, you immediately got to work. 

You sat behind him and helped him out of his coat, setting it aside. You could see the tension tight in his shoulders, travel and stress having built there. You immediately began massaging his neck, touch light at first then growing stronger. 

"Dearest..." Hosea murmured, but you just hushed him gently. 

"Let me take care of you. Please." You begged. You desperately wanted to just help him right now, even though your eyes were still damp, though no tears were falling. Hosea seemed to be able to hear the desperation in your voice, that you needed to do this, so he didn't protest further. 

His head began to droop as your hands worked at his muscles, rubbing away the exhaustion from the road. Soon his muscles were soft and pliable under your fingers, and his head was bowed low in relaxation. You pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck, and rested your chin on his shoulder. 

"Thank you, dove," Hosea sighed. "That felt wonderful." You just hummed in response, wrapping your arms around him for a moment and holding him tightly. 

Hosea slowly lay down on his side, pulling you with him, and he rolled over to face you. He gently caressed your cheek with the back of his finger, eyes flickering across your face in that analytical way of his, reading your emotions as easily as he would his newspaper. 

"It's been awful without you here, Hosea." You sighed, tears beginning to brim over and spill down your cheeks once more. 

"How so?" He asked gently. 

So you began venting to him, telling him about your horrible week. When you told him about stepping on the glass, he immediately sat up and removed your boot, checking over your bandaged foot. Thankfully it was healing well. He lay back down and let you continue venting. 

"All this because I was gone?" He asked gently once you were done. "I'm flattered that you think so highly of me, but I'm not sure what I could have done to stop any of that," his tone wasn't judgemental, or taking himself seriously. It was just a normal Hosea quip. 

"No, obviously not. But it just felt like... I don't know, like the universe was taunting me when I already missed you so much. And beyond that, I missed your comfort, your sage counsel." You nuzzled your face into his chest. "I missed having you next to me each night, and talking to you at dinner." You sniffled, trying to push down your tears, and failing. 

"I'm here now," he soothed, stroking your hair back and kissing your forehead. "I'm so sorry you've had such a tough time in my absence. I wish I'd been here for you." 

You said nothing, just clung to him tighter and let your tears wet his shirt as you let yourself cry. 

"How was the job?" You asked once your tears began to subside. 

"It went fine. Nothing too exciting," Hosea said. "I did get you something though," 

"You got me something?" You asked, looking up at him. He smiled and nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little box. The two of you sat up so you were sitting facing each other.  

"Yes. I came across this traveling fortune teller, who collects things from far and wide. She had a variety of trinkets and things. But then I saw this." 

Hosea opened the box to reveal a small cameo-style pendant necklace. Only instead of an image of a person carved out of the little white stone, a fox sat amongst some long grass, staring back at you with a cunning grin. The background color was an enamel in your favorite color. 

"Hosea it's beautiful," you gasped, gently picking up the little pendant and brushing your thumb across the carving. 

"I thought you might like it. You always call me your sly fox." Hosea chuckled. "Also," he held the pendant and slipped his fingernail into a little crack, revealing it to be a locket. Inside was a picture of Hosea. 

It was a younger picture of him, from a couple years before you'd met him. He was your Hosea, not that dashing but wild and untrustworthy young man in the picture by Arthur's cot. But he did have a few less wrinkles on his face. 

"Oh Hosea," you gasped, reverently taking the pendant back from him and studying it. "Thank you so much. I love it." 

"I'm glad." Hosea said, pulling you into his arms. You settled into his lap, sitting with your back to his chest. You couldn't take your eyes off the locket in your hand. 

"It's no replacement for being here with you," Hosea murmured in your ear. "But maybe it'll help keep me close if I ever have to go away again." He kissed you cheek. "Although I doubt I'll be going anywhere anytime soon," he groaned, flopping back on the bedroll dramatically. You giggled and lay down beside him. 

"That's fine by me" 

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 58 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Katya found out she might be pregnant, the assistant network caught on to BDR’s latest paramour, and Violet was ordered to go home and rest.

This Chapter: Gigi’s new look gets the reaction she’d hoped for, the twins enjoy some one on one time with their respective partners, Courtney has a rain-soaked nightmare, Pearl looks (but doesn’t touch) and Katya stresses.

***

Courtney knocked softly on Ivy’s door, a smile on her face that had been there almost all day. Fame had thankfully left early, she and Patrick spending the evening at some fancy opera event at the Met, leaving Courtney to get ready for her date in peace.

Her first official date with Bianca. It was almost too exciting for her to comprehend.

“Hey Courtney, what’s up?” Ivy asked, looking up from her computer, beckoning Courtney inside.

“Well, I have a date tonight...and it’s really important and I need to look hot and...I thought maybe I could borrow something from the closet again?”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fine. Um...let me just finish this email and then I’ll help you. Feel free to go have a look around, though.”

“Thanks.” Courtney bit her lip, sensing that Ivy was decidedly less enthusiastic about this than the last time she’d helped. She was probably in the middle of something important, maybe anxious about her own Friday night plans. Courtney felt bad, and would have told her to forget it if she had literally any other options. “I promise to be quick!”

“Yeah, no worries.”

Courtney kept her promise, pulling a short, royal blue dress with a high slit and a pair of strappy aqua shoes.

“Are you sure you wanna wear those shoes, Court? It’s kind of horrendous outside,” Ivy said, but Courtney shook her head.

“It’s fine, I’m just gonna be going into a cab and then inside. Thank you so much for your help!”

“No problem,” Ivy said, always gracious even when Courtney was obviously annoying her. “I hope you have a good time.”

“I’m sure I will!” Courtney exclaimed, taking the dress and shoes back to her own office to change, already feeling giddy with excitement, wondering what Bianca’s idea of ‘wining and dining’ would be like.

She took her time getting ready, freshening her hair with a curling iron she’d stashed in her desk and giving herself what she hoped was a sexy smoky eye. She kept an eye on the clock, knowing that Fame expected her to be in the office until 7:30. She chose a berry-colored lip gloss from the samples that Alaska had given her, and then stepped into the bathroom to get dressed, thrilled that the dress fit perfectly. She checked her phone and computer one more time before signing out, making sure that there were no last-minute requests from Miss Fame, and then made her way downstairs to grab a taxi.

She’s just settled into the backseat when a message came through that made her heart sink.

FAME: Dogwalker sick. Need you to walk Charles ASAP.

Courtney groaned, tapping on the glass partition to redirect the cab driver, and then texting Bianca.

COURTNEY: Still dealing with a work thing. I’m so so sorry, I might be a little late.

BIANCA: No rush. We can always push the reservation.

COURTNEY: I’ll tell you the second I’m on the way.

BIANCA: XX

Courtney knew that dog walking was an occasional part of her job, although it hadn’t come up yet before. However, she’d carefully read the 7 pages of instructions Violet left about him, knowing that Charles was Fame’s treasured companion and she would be toast if anything ever happened to him, and prepared for the time when she’d have to step up. She wasn’t terribly worried--after all, she loved dogs, and her own family had German Shepherds, so a big dog shouldn’t be any trouble.

But Charles wasn’t just big. He was massive, outweighing her by a hefty amount, first fighting her as she tried to put on the raincoat that he apparently hated, and then dragging her down the street so fast that she slipped on some ice, falling to her knees on the corner, immediately cursing herself for not listening to Ivy about those stupid shoes.

“Charles, sit!” Courtney was terrified that he would run into the street without her and get hurt, rain and sleet pummeling her face as she sacrificed her umbrella to grip the leash with both hands. As she tried to stand, a bus drove by, sloshing icy gutter water all over her. “Fucking shit!”

Charles, of course, paid no attention to her predicament, still single-mindedly bound for the edge of the park where he was trained to do his business. Courtney got up, shivering, and took him across the street, finding herself soon faced with picking up a steaming, human-sized pile of shit in the pouring rain. By the time they got back to Fame’s mud room and Charles properly toweled off (with him stepping all over her chest with muddy paws in the process), she was soaked to the bone and shivering like crazy.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, wincing at her soggy, lifeless hair and smeared eye makeup, knowing that there was no way she could show up for a date looking like that. She got out her phone, dialing Bianca’s number with shaking fingers.

“Hey, sunshine,” Bianca answered, and Courtney closed her eyes, cringing at how wrong that nickname was at the moment.

“Hi. Um...I don’t think I can make it tonight,” she said, trying her best not to cry.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just...I had a situation with Fame’s dog and I’m soaking wet and I look an absolute mess and I can’t-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa...are you okay? It’s freezing outside!” Bianca exclaimed.

“Yeah...I just...I should go home, I can’t-”

“You’re not seriously thinking about getting on a train to the Bronx right now, are you? You’ll die of hypothermia. I can hear your teeth chattering, for fuck’s sake.”

“But I can’t go out, I look-”

“Okay, then we’ll stay in.”

“But you wanted to go out, and-”

“No, I wanted to spend time with you. I’m starting a hot bath right now. Get a cab, come over, I’ll see you in ten minutes,” Bianca instructed, and Courtney couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief that someone else was taking charge of the situation.

***

Gigi couldn’t stop staring at herself in the hallway mirror, her fingers gliding through her silky soft hair for the third time.

It was the most gorgeous deep auburn red, the color bringing out her freckles and playing up her grey eyes.

She looked like a completely different person, and she loved it.

“Looks like someones been to Juju’s.”

Gigi turned to see Symone leaning against the doorframe, a smile on her face, the adorable gap between her white front teeth stupidly charming.

“What gave it away?” Gigi giggled, throwing her hair over her shoulder.

“Just wait til you go shopping.” Symone grinned, her jeans slung low on her hips. “The underwear I have now is more expensive than any other clothes I have ever owned.”

“You got new underwear?” Gigi felt her eyes widened. “With like… With Sutan?” She bit her lip. Sutan had gone with her to the salon, him and Juju talking quietly while she was getting her hair washed by an assistant. They had obviously made the right choice, Gigi feeling like a superhero, but she couldn’t imagine any man coming with her to a lingerie store.

“Sure.” Symone shrugged. “It’s all ‘foundational undergarments’ and ‘French cut’ this, ‘t-shirt bra’ that. ‘You need a secure adhesive backless’. Where I’m from we just call those chicken cutlets.” Symone smiled. “For my first fitting, he asked me to wear high rise briefs and a seamless bra. I felt like my grandma.”

Gigi laughed, the tiny worry she had felt flare up already gone again.

“Do you want to cook dinner together?” Symone pushed out from the door, and Gigi nodded, this modeling thing already so much better than she had dared hoped for.

***

“Ah!” Violet moaned as Sutan pushed her forward, his body boxing her in and keeping her in place. They were in the kitchen, the counter digging into her hips.

“Hey gorgeous,” Sutan’s voice was low, his lips against her neck, his warmth breath tickling her skin. She felt him grab the edge of her skirt, hiking it up and over her knees, thighs and even ass as he pulled it higher and higher, pooling it on the counter, forcing Violet to hold it herself, his hand guiding her before he let go.

“Please-“ Violet groaned, his fingers digging into the fabric, every move she made exposing herself further.

“Please what?”

She could feel Sutan’s fingers glide up her outer thigh and Violet blushed, her core burning hot, her panties getting wetter by the second.

“Please-“

It felt absolutely filthy, and so fucking good, Sutan in complete control and Violet loved it.

They were both tipsy, their wine glasses and dinner plates in the sink, the dishes completely forgotten when Sutan had given Violet a quick kiss that had developed into so much more.

“Please what lovely eyes?” Sutan’s voice was silky smooth, nothing in his tone betraying the way his fingers danced over her ass cheek, nails scratching on skin, a fingertip sneaking under the lace.

“I-“ Violet swallowed. She felt like she was drowning, wanted to drown, wanted to disappear in everything Sutan was. “I-“

“Tell me,” Sutan whispered, his lips against her ear. “Or I might punish you darling.” He leaned forward, pushing her that little bit further, and that was when it happened.

“Ah!” Violet closed her eyes, a blinding pain shooting through her. “Wait! Wait wait wait!”

Her foot had gotten caught on an angle, and Sutan jumped backwards.

“Wait,” Violet took a deep breath through her nose, the pain already disappearing, frustrated tears welling up in her eyes. “Fuck-“

“Everything okay?”

Violet turned around to see that Sutan had taken literal steps back, his trousers still tented, his dick obviously hard underneath the zipper.

“Mmh,” Violet nodded, the delightful embarrassment from earlier replaced with something that felt a lot more like shame, her eyes focused on Sutan’s feet. “I-“

“Can I touch you again?”

Violet’s head snapped up, Sutan looking at her, a glimpse of insecurity in his eyes, almost like he was the one who had done something wrong.

“Please-“ Violet opened her arms, and seconds later she could bury her face in his neck, his arms around her, holding her tight, kisses pressed into her hair.

“I’m sorry,” Sutan murmed, his voice low. “I didn’t mean to-“

“I know-“ Violet smiled, the apology so unnecessary it was almost comical. “I know.”

“Good.” Sutan pulled back, a hand in her hair tilting Violet’s head upwards so he could look at her. “Good. I shouldn’t have-“

Violet leaned forward, shutting him up with a kiss, her arms going around his neck as she held him tight.

***

When her cab pulled up in front of Bianca’s building, the doorman immediately rushed forward to open her door. She was fumbling with her credit card, fingers still stiff and cold, but he gestured for her to put it away.

“Ms. Del Rio is taking care of that,” he said, handing over some cash to the driver, then covering her with an umbrella and walking her to the lobby, where she was sent up in a different elevator than last time, directly to Bianca’s second floor, right outside her bedroom.

Courtney clutched her soaking wet jacket, trying to get her bearings when Bianca appeared around the corner, looking at her with concern and dismay.

“Omigod, baby, come here…”

Courtney barely knew what was happening as Bianca rushed her into the bathroom, helping her strip off her wet things.

“What the fuck are you doing in these shoes in this weather? And this jacket--why aren’t you in a winter coat?” Bianca asked, dropping it to the floor and then unzipping her dress, her voice gentle despite the scolding words.

“Th-that is my winter coat.”

“That’s not a winter coat,” Bianca informed her, pulling the dress down.

Courtney didn’t have the energy to protest, and besides, she was much more concerned with the dress.

“The dress isn’t mine, I think I ruined it-” she began, voice breaking, and Bianca looked it over while she stepped out of her panties and placed her jewelry on the counter.

“It’ll be fine, it just needs to be cleaned,” Bianca promised, leading her, still shivering, over to the jacuzzi tub, where a huge pile of bubbles was waiting for her. “I didn’t make it too hot, because I didn’t want to shock your system. But you can change the temp if you want.”

Courtney sank into the bubbles, the water silky and warm as a hug. After a few seconds, she finally began to feel her fingers and toes again, flexing them under the water, a sigh leaving her. She looked up, where Bianca was setting a remote control at the edge of the tub--which apparently controlled the jets and the temperature and even the lights. Courtney had never seen anything like it. She’d also put out a whole basket of bath products and lit a couple of candles.

“I’ll give you some privacy now,” Bianca said. “I left some towels and a robe on the warmer, and uh...if you need anything else, just let me know, okay?”

“Can you stay?”

It was embarrassing to admit, but Courtney didn’t want to be alone right now. Bianca didn’t make her feel weird about it though, simply took a seat on the ledge beside her, chatting about her trip, the trouble her staff had created while she was away, her voice soothing as Courtney leaned back against the terry cloth pillow with her eyes shut.

After she’d warmed up a little, Bianca washed her hair, strong and sure fingertips massaging the lather into her scalp as the other hand cradled her neck. She then helped her dry off with heated towels, and finally wrapped her in a warm fluffy robe while she ran a blow dryer through her hair. Courtney couldn’t remember ever feeling this cared for in her life, not even as a child, and if it wasn’t such absolute heaven, she’d probably feel ashamed at how much she enjoyed it.

She managed to swallow down a few mouthfuls of soup from the Chinese delivery that Bianca had ordered for dinner before her eyelids began to droop. Bianca noticed immediately, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then leading her to bed. She curled into Bianca’s arms, limbs growing heavy as hands stroked her back soothingly.

“Do you feel better now, angel?” Bianca asked.

“I felt better the second I walked in the door,” Courtney murmured.

“Yeah?”

“I guess there’s not really a door. The second I stepped off your elevator,” Courtney said, making Bianca laugh, her sleepiness causing her to be more honest than was probably called for, adding a whispered, “You make everything better.”

***

Pearl sat at a stool towards the back of the club, nursing a drink while telling herself over and over again that she was doing nothing wrong.

For one thing, she and Adore were over. Actually, fully over. And for another, she had no idea if Dahlia was even dancing tonight. She’d just come by for a casual drink...for the third time in 3 days. Just to see. Just to look.

And there was nothing wrong with looking, right? Even if she had lied to Trixie and Katya about where she was.

Pearl had already brushed off a parade of girls, tipping all of them, but saying no to everything else they offered, since she didn’t want to miss her chance of seeing Dahlia.

She was just about to give up, when one of the last dancers of the night came on, and there, there she was.

Dahlia was just as beautiful as Pearl remembered her, even more beautiful actually, since her costume for the night was the naughtiest sheer black teddy and lace panties, tiny little pink bows attached to the spaghetti straps of her top.

Her brown hair was styled in a delicate mess of brown curls, her plump lips painted pink, her eyes heavy and sultry, Dahlia looking like a sex kitten getting ready to go on the prowl.

Pearl swallowed as ‘Kiss It Better’ by Rihanna started playing, taking a big gulp of her drink.

Pearl hadn’t known if she wanted Dahlia to notice that she was there, hadn’t really thought this through at all, but when Dahlia dipped down on the pole, her ass beyond perfection, their eyes met across the room.

Pearl watched as Dahlia’s lips parted for a second, her eyes widening, but then, she smirked, throwing her hair over her shoulder.

***

“Mmh,” Raven moaned, her fingers in Raja’s long dark hair, her fiancée's lips on her neck, one of her hands up her top. They had been watching a movie on the couch, staying in just the two of them such a rare treat that they had even made popcorn. “Please-”

“Please?” Raja grinned, her long body on top of Raven’s under their blanket, their movie completely forgotten. “Are you being polite princess?”

“Fuck off.” Raven showed Raja’s shoulder, which only made the older woman laugh. “I’m perfectly polite.”

“Sure,” Raja smiled, shifting her knee so it slid in between Raven’s thighs, her skirt riding up to make room for Raja’s pant covered leg. “That’s what I love about you. How polite you are.”

Raven pulled on Raja’s hair, a surprised gasp leaving her girlfriend. She thrusted her hips, forcing Raja off balance and down in a messy kiss, teeth clacking, their lipsticks smearing, Raven taking charge.

***

“Just a few more minutes.” Trixie smiled, his open palm resting on Katya’s knee, his thumb rubbing up and down, trying his best to be comforting.

They were in the bathroom, Katya sitting on the closed toilet while Trixie knelt on the floor next to her, the elephant in the room the pregnancy test that was lying on the edge of the sink, both of them doing their damndest not to look at it yet.

He could tell she was anxious, knew that from the second she told him that she’d bought the test after work, even before she admitted that she was afraid to take it.

Trixie had always assumed that one day he’d be a father, and he was certain that Katya would be the best mom ever, so in his mind, this news was either amazingly exciting or slightly disappointing.

But Katya was another story, her clear terror making him dampen his own enthusiasm so that she felt safe to express herself. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel guilty for being scared on top of everything else. He knew, also, that there was a chance that she wouldn’t want this potential baby, so he prepared himself mentally to support her in whatever she wanted to do.

“I love you,” he offered softly, adding, “And it’ll be okay, no matter what it says.”

“Mmhmm,” Katya murmured agreement, though her eyes said that she didn’t fully believe him.

“Yo yo yo, where my bitches at?!” called out a voice, the slur telling them that Pearl had been drinking quite a bit.

Trixie assumed that Katya wouldn’t want to be interrupted during this private moment, but apparently, he was wrong.

“We’re in here!” Katya called, and Pearl’s heavy footsteps approached the door, pushing it open.

“This is a weird place for a party, dudes,” Pearl said, jacket hanging off one of her shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“Umm…” Trixie considered how to handle the situation delicately.

“I might be knocked up,” Katya said quickly, and Pearl’s eyes grew large, her mouth falling open.

“Wh-how?”

“Probably sex,” she answered, and all three of them laughed, breaking the tension just a little.

“So…” Pearl plopped down beside Trixie on the tile floor, and a rush of gratitude flooded his heart, relieved for the distraction, understanding why Katya called her in. That is, until she asked, “Have we thought about names? Cause I’d like to submit ‘Pearl Junior’ for consideration.”

“Pearl Junior?” Trixie scoffed. “Why, you’re not the father.”

“Come on! Little Pearlie J. P.J.?!”

“I don’t hate it,” Katya said, and Pearl cheered, giving her a fist bump. “But remember, I might not even be pregnant.”

“True, but you guys are getting married. It’ll be relevant eventually.”

“Not necessarily,” said Katya, gripping Trixie’s hand tighter. He squeezed her back in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

“Yuh huh! That’s why we call you ‘breeders’!” Pearl insisted.

“But I just don’t-” Katya began, but was interrupted by the timer on Trixie’s phone.

“You ready?” he asked, taking both of her hands in his.

“No.”

“Well...remember, sometimes these tests aren’t 100% accurate. So whatever it says, it might not mean...” He reached out, catching a tear that had slipped down her cheek. “Babe…”

“I know. But I...can’t look.” Katya curled into his arms, burying her face in his neck. “You do it.”

Unfortunately, the stick was just out of reach, unless he let go of her, which he wasn’t prepared to do.

“Pearl, can you-”

“Sure.” Pearl snatched the test off the sink, looking at it, brow furrowed. “What the fuck does 11 mean?”

Katya’s head snapped up, reaching for the test while Pearl picked up the box.

“Why would it say 11? That’s so dumb, how do you know if...ohhhh.”

[violetmuses]

Grey || Chapter 20

Dedications: @kestiscroft The truth is revealed at last!

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

2023

Sharon Carter

“Would you like to know the truth, Agent Carter?” It wasn't another phone call, but someone talked to me in person.

One question echoed from behind me, but I didn’t notice its speaking figure until this had revealed their presence.

“Before we talk any further, who are you?” I turned around on this sidewalk to see a man standing in front of me.

Street lights beamed their shadows onto his dark complexion. His topped black hair turned grey in spots, but this stranger vaguely reminded me of someone. Dressed to hide among criminals too, he looked holstered, clearly familiar with Lowtown.

“Just you wait. For now, know that if you and Richardo keep plotting against Dionne, I will strip every privilege that you have ever received from the government.“ This complete stranger threatened me.

“Whoever you are, please understand that I don’t fare well with blackmail. You don’t even know who I am.” I should’ve already killed him as soon as he mentioned the word privilege.

“Someone very dear to me once said that in his world, a man can do anything with experience and patience.” The stranger affirmed his words, but never smiled.

“Who said that?” I narrowed my eyes, obviously trying to figure out who would’ve quoted that statement.

“Eight years ago, our man in question went for blood and split up the Avengers. Now, he’s shacking up in a luxury condo with my niece.” The stranger detailed, finally exposing a reason to be here.

Shit! All thoughts panicked as Zemo crossed my mind, but I couldn’t run away, not now or ever.

“Are you Paul Charles, the Real Estate agent?” I sent out that obvious question, although we both already knew the correct answer.

“Are you serious? Let me answer your stupid question with my response, Agent Carter: almost every single Hightown residence and other venues, including your own apartment, falls under the Charles family name.” Paul held onto his own chest, laughing to taunt me here.

“That’s impossible.” I scrunched up my face, already taking out my phone to verify his falsehood.

“Dionne can buy any property of her choosing over there. Even then, she would still have enough money left over to do whatever she wants afterwards. Honestly, that’s only part of the truth I have in store for you.” Paul continued, marking his words again.

“Oh…” I gasped while looking at my phone and Paul kept speaking.

I read that not only did the Charles family own various stakes of Hightown properties in Madripoor, but Paul moonlighted as a hacker of sorts and quadrupled his salary underground.

“I’m sure you remember the HYDRA breach.” Paul walked forward, but didn’t touch me, of course. A shoulder holster peeked with authority underneath his jacket.

“Did you help Romanoff put out those files?” I asked.

“No. I gave Helmut the coordinates to Vasily Kaprov’s house located in Cleveland, Ohio.” Paul asserted, deepening the invisible and proverbial hole that cracked beneath my steps

“You led a monster to the Winter Soldier handbook.” I shuddered gently, still trying to keep composure at this point.

“If Helmut is a monster, then what are you?” Paul took another towards me, but dominated our conversation again.

“The Power Broker.” I stood my ground, trying to keep my own command here, even around the Lowtown misfits who might’ve hear us.

“No, you’re just another lackey.” Paul just scoffed in return.

“Enough games, Paul. I’ve walked in circles all this time. Who is our true Power Broker?” I whispered, praying silently that no one around us comprehended what I asked.

“The Baroness of Sokovia.” Paul balled up one of his fists and clenched bright teeth, sizing me up without closing space between us both.

“Heike Zemo? That’s not true. She’s been dead for eight years. We all know what happened to Sokovia.” I spun into another mirage of a circle, shocked by his answer.

“I’m sorry, but please try to be more intelligent before I walk away. Heike was only a replacement, Agent Carter.” Paul corrected me, still leaving my mind clueless.

“What are you talking about?” I whispered my question with a racing heart.

“Has Dionne already told you about her relationship with Helmut?” Paul asked once more, hiding both hands in the pockets of that windbreaker jacket.

“Yes.” I sighed, but nodded. My thoughts soon remembered everything that Dionne and Zemo said up to this point.

“Twenty years back, after my brother Ray passed on, Helmut called me and asked if we could go jewelry shopping. I planned to visit Sokovia and we wanted to choose Dionne’s engagement ring.” Paul’s voice lost its energy, now sounding drained instead.

“His father ruined it all.” I mumbled, but Paul heard exactly what my phrase had been.

“Bingo.” Paul gestured, simmering frustration again, and for good reason.

That's unfortunate." I said a few moments later.

“In 2003, Heike and Helmut’s engagement party was a fucking joke! If you don’t believe me, it’s all filmed up until a certain point.” Paul hissed, explaining more details.

“Where’s the footage?” I squinted, hoping to reach a goldmine here.

“If I speak any further about the video, how do I know that you won’t betray me, Agent Carter? To be honest, I will always trust Helmut over you.” Paul spewed his venom once more, still pledging his allegiance to Zemo decades later.

“We’re Americans, Paul. I still think you have every right to plead the Fifth, regardless of location.” I folded both arms.

“I won’t respond to your American comment. Although he was Sokovian, Helmut would never make a slick remark like that. We checked his privilege at the door and he’s been loyal with our family ever since.” Paul clenched his teeth again, battling me once more.

“So, you’re telling me that Dionne is the Power Broker?” My softened words mounted the gravity of what I was trying to figure out all along.

“I thought the clues were obvious. You should’ve felt gears turning once I mentioned Helmut's engagement ring for her. Besides, why do you think she can move anywhere in Madripoor and not be killed instantly?” Paul smoked a cigarette.

“Access.” I whispered.

“Let me tell you something else: Perkins was able to reach Madripoor and abduct my niece because folks didn't check their no-entry lists! This island and its people might be lawless, but we still got rules here. James Patterson called the Street Law.” Paul referenced someone else I didn't recognize yet. I’d research later, curious despite this talk now.

“I’m sorry.” I apologized to Paul Charles, even though Russell Perkins never hit S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar, at least not as far as I remembered.

“All you were so busy worrying about HYDRA and The Winter Soldier that another barbarian slipped through the intel cracks. Even before Sokovia was destroyed, Helmut tried to warn us about Perkins.” Paul kept going, making even more sense.

“Hacking aside, how do you know that much about Perkins’s record?” I shook my head, still shocked and hurt by Paul’s answers.

“Helmut sent me everything after Perkins tried to murder a Sokovian diplomat. If this world actually focused on the correct things, Perkins would’ve rotted in prison instead of escaping and abusing my niece!” Paul was seething responding to me again.

“Don't you realize that Zemo should be in prison too?” I grounded us, pushing empty aside for once here.

“I’ve been told many times that you should be jailed as well, Agent Carter.” After stumping out that cigarette, Paul Charles lurked his own footsteps back into darkness before I could speak up again.

[sinner-as-saint]

Want You Back (Mob! Seb AU)

Want You Back

Sequel to: Back For You 

Run-through: After your quite steamy one night stand with the mob boss, it was rather clear via the note he left you; that he was not yet done with you. Despite the emotional turmoil you were caught up in, you were certain that he’d come back for you. But were you ready for that?

Themes: language, mob boss! Seb, smut, slight dark side of characters, Daddy kink, possessive! Seb, stalking tendencies, slight temperature play. A.k.a this gets pure filthy at the end so, hide your children.

A/N: The symbols “^^^” represent a change of POV. Don’t worry, it’s not confusing. Oh and, um, kinky shit ahead.

 After he left your apartment, Sebastian drove straight to his hotel room for a quick change; given that he had left his shirt at your place as a souvenir. Then he drove to the airport.

Around 3 a.m. in the dark of the night, he boarded his private jet in his quest to France. There were certain problems which erupted there and he had to be there physically to get everything and everyone under control again.

Once he got inside the flight, he leaned his head back on his velvety seat and sighed out loud. He had a sly smile on his face as he remembered you; your face, your touch, the way you moaned his name under your breath and how your body moved sinfully under his touch.

Usually, he never gave the women that he slept with another thought. But you, you invaded his mind. You infiltrated his thoughts and he couldn’t fight back.

He felt bad for leaving you alone in your bed. And he couldn’t bring himself to wake you up before he left, because you looked like a literal angel, so he left you a note. And just so you wouldn’t get cold, he wrapped his shirt and your blanket around your sleeping frame carefully, placed a soft kiss on your forehead and left silently.

Sebastian thought about how you looked as you slept, your face prettier than before thanks to the afterglow, courtesy to him. Your lips were plumper than before, due to the amount of times he bit them. Your bare body was covered in the dark red marks he caused.

He smiled knowing that he would be the first thing you’d think about when you’ll wake up in the morning. He knew that you’d have a slight difficulty in walking and sitting down, his pride amplified as he’d happily take the blame for that.

He knew deep inside that you would soon find out who he really is. A cold hearted mob boss. But he also knew that you wouldn’t run away from him.

Of course you wouldn’t, he thought, you were his girl now.

He smiled at the thought of you being his, as he whipped out his phone and dialed a number he knew by heart.

“Chris! Hey man, long time huh? Yeah, it’s just real busy these days. Listen man, I need a favor. There’s a girl named Y/n who works at a pub called The Red Tavern, I need you to find everything you can about her. Family backgrounds, friends, ex-boyfriends, you know the drill,” he spoke, picking up the coffee cup the blonde hostess had just placed in front of him.

Through the phone came Chris’ voice.

“Sure buddy, I’ll get my people on it. By the way, who is she? A super hot stripper you simply can’t forget, huh?” he asked, followed by his signature laugh. Something which signaled that he was slightly drunk.

Seb shook his head, if this man wasn’t his friend, he’d have his head for his lack of seriousness in his work.

“Just do as I say, Chris. We’ll talk when you’re sober,” Sebastian spoke in a tired, monotonous tone and with that, he hung up.

Chris Evans, the Huntsman as many knew him, was exactly what he was titled as. A hunter, a man who could gather information about anyone and anything, anywhere in the world within the span of an hour or two. He was Sebastian’s closest friend and one of the very few people he trusted.

 After the quick phone call, Sebastian took a quick nap; during which he dreamt of you.

By now he had memorized every curve on your body. He knew your weak spots, he knew that all it takes is a soft kiss right over the skin under your right ear and you lost all control over your own body.

Due to his…profession, he was required to be very observant. And he indeed was. He noticed how your back would arch off the bed sheets every time he dragged a finger down your clit, tracing your glistening entrance as your sweet slick coated his middle finger.

He noticed how goose bumps would follow the faint brush of his fingers along your skin. He took note of your scent; your slightly fruity scent– perhaps it was peach, and the faint hint of caffeine on your tongue along with the raw taste of your mouth. He loved it.

Your soft moans, his name sounded so sinful coming out of your mouth while you came undone under him.

He woke up due to the slight pain in his neck, because it was angled weirdly while he slept. And he woke with an excited member as well.

God… what is she doing to me?

He rubbed the sore side of his neck and had the boner taken care of by the mouth of the sultry hostess who was more than happy to assist him in his hardship. No pun intended.

Once he landed in Charles De Gaulle in the bustling city of Paris, he had his awaiting driver take him to the warehouse where those assholes who worked for him couldn’t even handle a bunch of other assholes who weren’t willing to let his cargo of weapons get through, and reach an ally.

The task was easy; talk to them in his ‘I-mean-business’ tone and see if they agreed to his demands, if they didn’t, he’d have his people ‘take care’ of them while he hired other people to do what he wanted.

Personally, call him crazy but believe it or not, he didn’t like easy things. Perhaps that’s what drew him to you; your ability to make him chase.

Fuck, there you were again. Invading his thoughts without any shame.

Once he had dealt with the men, he left.

In the car, on his way home; he received an email from Chris. He smiled as he clicked on it, everything one can ever know about you unveiling in front of his eyes.

Your full name, where you grew up, information about your parents, your school, your high school, college, the degree you pursued, your social media, your phone password, where you ever went on family vacation, some of your pictures as well. Basically, everything.

He sent a quick text to Chris thanking him as he scrolled through all your details.

The more he learnt about you, the more protective he got. You were his girl, and no one was touching his girl from now on.

He couldn’t risk leaving you his phone number, but damn he wanted to hear your voice. He wanted to feel you in his arms, he wanted to feel the soft brush of your hair on his face. He wanted you. And when the mob boss wanted something, he always got it.

^^^

 You were freaking out, you simply did not know what to do.

Oh my good God, I just slept with the mob boss.

Those words repeated in your head and you were getting more and more worried. He said he’d come back for you. But would he really? Don’t powerful people like him have women around them all the time? Then why would he come back for a random one night stand?

Perhaps that was just his thing, maybe he left a note to every person he slept with. Maybe he went on with his life and forgot about them like a meaningless dream.

You still had the note in your grip, and your phone in the other hand.

What should I do? Should I call someone? You thought, but your inner voice didn’t reply.

You wondered if it were safe for you to stay here. Fuck, just digesting the fact that the notorious mob boss was here, in your apartment, in your bed, fucking you into your mattress just a few hours ago was crazy.

The thought of calling the cops rushed through your head very briefly, but what would you say? He was like fog, catching him was impossible because he has loyal people all over the world who covered his tracks. Even the police gave up on catching him long ago.

The thought which bothered you the most, was that you liked him. His mysteriousness, his broody nature, his…darkness. The way he touched you, the way he dragged his lips almost everywhere across your skin. The way his lips reminded you that you were his in that moment. You liked it all, but you shouldn’t.

He was dangerous, everyone knew that. But he was gentle, you thought.

There, you were losing your mind.

Mindlessly, you tapped on the screen of your phone and before you knew it, you were calling your dad.

You were closest with your dad, although you didn’t like his new wife very much, but he was still your favorite parent.

You didn’t know why you were calling him, but all you knew was that you had to reassure yourself that you weren’t alone in this.

“Hey honey!” came your dad’s cheery voice through the phone. It sounded as if he was somewhere very windy. A beach perhaps. Wait, there are no beaches in NYC…

“Hey dad, can- can we talk?” you wanted to get to the point straightaway. You obviously couldn’t tell him what happened, but you needed the support.

“Yeah honey, is everything okay? Are you okay?” his concerned voice came through, and a tear escaped your eye. You missed him terribly, and you tried your hardest not to sob.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about, uh, can- God, can I come and stay over for a day or two? It’s, I mean, being alone all the time isn’t that cool anymore,” you asked, hoping he’d say yes.

You didn’t quite like his wife, but she was never rude to you. You could easily deal with her for a few days until you got your thoughts in check and Sebastian out of your system.

God, even just saying his name mentally forced a shiver down your spine.

“Hey, peanut, are you sure you’re okay. I mean, of course you can stay over honey. It’s just that, Mariah and I are travelling at the moment. So, even if you come over, you’re gonna be alone for a long while before we come back, I-,”

“Oh that’s okay! I mean, maybe a change of scenery will do me good, yeah? I, uh, I have the keys that you left me. Can I go over, say tomorrow?” you asked, desperately wanting to get away.

“Of course you can sweetie, you’re always welcome to stay over! Just remember, there’s no food left so you’ll have to shop for some baby. We won’t be home for at least 3 weeks, feel free to have your friends over! Love you Y/n,” came your dad’s wife’s voice through the phone as she answered instead of your dad.

“Thanks Mariah. Love you dad, talk soon,” with that, you hung up, closing your eyes as you let a few more tears fall.

You finally understood why you needed to get away. It wasn’t because you didn’t feel safe, it’s because you still felt him in this apartment. His scent still lingered very faintly in the air, and knowing that he wasn’t coming back for you like he promised to – hurt. It hurt a bit more than you expected.

It was your own fault, you thought. You got attached too quickly.

You quickly booked a flight to NYC and started packing your bags. Hopefully being away from the apartment would help you get rid of the memories of the short-lived moments with the beautiful stranger.

You called your co-worker and let her know that you had to leave because of an emergency in the family, she was irritated at first due to the short notice, but understood nonetheless.

Before leaving, you debated whether or not you should call your friends and let them know that you were going to be in their city for a few days. And eventually, you did.

^^^

 “What the fuck did you just say?” Sebastian barked into the phone, his anger getting the best of him as he couldn’t believe the words Chris just spoke.

“Dude, you’re really gonna make me repeat that shit? I said, your chick just left town. She booked a flight to New York just now and you’re not gonna like this part but she just called a number belonging to one of your rivals man, she might just be another bitch they set t-,”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE! She’s not like that, she’s- look, just figure out where she’s going. I’m flying to New York within the next few hours. Keep me posted if there’s anything,” with that said, and receiving a sheepish ‘okay’ from Chris, Sebastian hung up the phone.

He paced around his room as the sunlight came through the windows, brightening the room. Yet, he thought, nothing matched the glow in your eyes as he buried himself deep inside you.

His thoughts raced, as he acknowledged every possibility of your sudden movement.

Could it be that you were trying to get away, thinking he couldn’t find you wherever you went?

That thought made him laugh, not in a good way.

Phone still in his hand, with the picture of you puckering your lips and your middle fingers held high up above you head, as his lock screen; he threw his body on his bed. Oh how would he like to have you here with him, right beside him.

But no, you decided to run away and make him chase you even more. Your unpredictability was driving him crazy, and for some weird reasons, he liked it.

His thumb hovered his phone screen, right above your puckered lips as he took in your appearance in the picture. Denim jacket, black pants and boots – you looked like a badass angel and it made him smile.

“Babygirl, I was coming back for you. I thought you’d accept me for who I am, but here you are; running away from me. Why did you have to run from me? But don’t worry, I still want you back. You’re mine,” he whispered out loud, to himself, as the thought of having you in his arms again was all he could focus on.

He chuckled darkly as he closed his eyes, thinking about you.

When he’d find you, he’d make sure you never run away again. And Sebastian was a man of his words, and he was coming to find his girl.

^^^

 As soon as you landed in NYC at around 4 p.m., you hired a cab and had the driver take you straight to your dad’s house. It was a spacious home, planted on an equally spacious property. Your dad was a nature loving person, so needless to say, the front yard was impeccable.

You fished out the bunch of keys and unlocked the door, stepping inside. You smiled as you looked around. The colors, the décor, the house was very warm and welcoming.

After roaming around for a bit, checking out the mini library area and the kitchen. You desperately needed a shower and food.

You settled for the room with the view of the back yard and had a quick, hot shower then made your way to the garage.

You drove to a café, grabbing a coffee and a croissant then made your way to the very busy grocery store.

When you parked your dad’s car, which you borrowed for the trip, you couldn’t help but notice a slick, shiny black Audi parked only a couple slots away from you.

You sat still in the passenger’s seat and watched it intently. The windows were tainted, just like Sebastian’s. But it couldn’t be him, right? I wouldn’t be him.

So many people owned black Audis, it could be anyone.

You convinced your heart that it wasn’t him, yet you couldn’t silence the little voice in your head which refused to believe you.

You roamed around the unfamiliar store for a bit, admitting that it was at least 3 times the size of the one you had back home in your little town. And there were so many people, and they were all in a rush.

Caught in the fast flow, you somehow knocked against someone’s cart and were about to fall, if two strong arms didn’t catch you in time.

Once you were back on your feet, stable, you couldn’t help your racing heartbeat. You were much more scared to turn around and find a certain blue eyed man, rather than the fact that you were just about to fall in front of so many people in an unknown city.

Reluctantly, you turned around.

And your fear subsided once you noticed that your savior didn’t have blue eyes. Instead, he had brown, soft eyes. And, an equally soft smile.

“Hey there, you alright?” he asked, his voice deep and his eyes comforting.

You blushed in embarrassment.

“I- I’m, yeah, sorry typically out of town girl. Thanks for saving me!” you chuckled, trying to reduce the awkwardness.

“Oh that’s alright. Be careful though. I’m Anthony, and you are?” he spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. He was fit, given he looked like he was in his late thirties.

Weird, you thought, why did all attractive men have to be way older than you were?

Anthony flashed a gorgeous smile at you. His tawny skin shining despite the gloomy weather.

“Y/n,” and after that, you had quite a lengthy conversation with him.

He told you about his job, a martial arts instructor. He asked you how come you were in NYC and you replied saying you needed to get away for a while because you were trying to forget something.

You exchanged numbers and promised to get coffee before you left to go back home.

After parting ways with Anthony, you shopped for the basics and decided that it was only this much you could carry in one go. You’d come back for more stuff if you needed.

You had spent a good hour in the store and when you got back to your car, you noticed that the black Audi was still in its spot.

Paranoia got the best of and you couldn’t help but feel a shiver down your spine. Would he really follow you though, when he could have any other women, why would he waste his time on you?

You tried shaking your disturbing thoughts and drove back to the house.

Once you placed all your stuff in the pantry, the day’s activities took a heavy toll on you. And after putting together a quick turkey sandwich, you decided to call it an early night.

Only, fate had other plans…

^^^

 He just sat there, in the dark, in her temporary bedroom. His trustee, shiny revolver was in his hand – not because he planned on using it, God no, he would never hurt his girl; but because holding it reminded him of who he truly was. And it was comforting.

He had followed her to the store, car parked not far from hers. She noticed, he believes, but she didn’t care. Why didn’t she care?

She looked good, he thought, she looked really good. He was proud that she was his, and he even had a smile on his face until he saw her talking to the tall dark dude.

He saw them through the glass panes and his jaw ticked. His hands itched as all he wanted to do was to smash that fucker’s face to the ground when he saw his hands on his girl.

He noticed that they exchanged numbers, and the fire inside him burned brighter, hotter with need. Need to get that fuck face out of the way. Need to have her under him and remind her who she belongs to. Need to remind her who he was.

But all he could do was wait. He waited for her to get out of the store and get back in her car. He noticed that she gave his car another puzzled look.

He smirked. His girl remembered him.

And now here he was, barged into her dad’s home and sat in the unlit bedroom, waiting for her. He toyed with his gun in his hands, the little light from the dark sky hitting the shiny metal as he sighed for the third time.

He was stalking her, he knew, but she was his. His alone.

A couple of minutes later, he heard her walking up the stairs, her soft thuds echoing off the walls of the empty house as his sinister smirk grew wider.

The bedroom door opened and in walked his babygirl. She hadn’t noticed him yet; given he was in the furthest and darkest corner of the room.

As soon as she walked in, she took her top off – closing the door with her foot. Then resumed to take her black jeans off as well, leaving her in her white set of underwear.

His eyes widen at the unexpected strip show, followed by a smirk as his pants grew tighter.

He watched as she picked up her clothes from the floor and threw them into the hamper and before she could turn around, she heard his voice.

^^^

 You took your clothes of and threw them carelessly into the hamper, you didn’t know why, but you could never sleep with clothes on. As you were turning around, you heard a husky voice speaking from behind you.

“Well that was quite a show, can’t say I’m even the slightest bit mad though, babygirl,” it said, and once it finished talking, your heart sank as if it were dropped into a bottomless pit.

You turned around completely and faced him.

He sat on the antique, blue velveteen cushioned chair like as if it was a throne he deserved. He looked powerful, majestic and if you weren’t half naked in front of him, maybe you’d stare at him longer.

You hurried in grabbing the closest thing to you to cover your body, turns out it was a jacket you had taken off earlier during the day.

You held the jacket in front of you as Sebastian rose up from his seat, and only then did you notice the gun in his hand. And the sight knocked the air out of you.

“That’s- what are you doing, here?” you asked, your voice came out sounding way weaker than you imagined it would. You sounded scared, because you were.  

He clicked his tongue, tossing the gun onto your bed and it bounced one time before settling right next to a pillow.

Sebastian walked towards your frightened frame, and with each step he took forward, you took one backwards. This pattern continued until your back touched the cold surface of the wooden door.

“Don’t hide from me. I’ve seen it all up close before, haven’t I? Now, I have questions for you, babygirl,” he spoke in a low voice; one filled with power and dominance and you looked up at him with your frightened eyes.

What do you do when a hot mob boss, also an one night stand from a day and a half ago suddenly shows up at your dad’s house?

Sebastian placed a hand right next to your head and looked you dead in the eyes with his blue ones. And despite your fear, you couldn’t help but be hypnotized by them.

“Once I was done with… my work, I was coming to find you again. But I was told you took off. Why did you run?” he asked and worry washed over you.

How the fuck did he know that? Who told him?

Seeing that you weren’t replying, he brought his lips to your neck. And lazily brushed them over your sweet spot, causing you to shiver at his touch. Involuntarily, you turned your head to the side and provided him with better access to your skin. He chuckled at your action as your face burned with embarrassment.

He placed feathery kisses all over your skin, no biting no teasing the skin – just his lips on your neck. The soft touches dragged breathy moans out of your mouth.

“See, your body remembers me, baby,” he whispered at the shell of your ear.

By now, your hands had let go of the jacket; which fell at your feet and your hands wrapped around his shoulders.

You shouldn’t be doing that, you thought. You shouldn’t like his touch or lean in for more. You shouldn’t be under his spell. But oh how you wanted to.

“You lied, you- you said you worked with influential people. But you don’t, you…,” your voice trailed off as he traced your trembling lips with the tip of the shiny metallic barrel of the gun in his hands.

He did that while staring intently into your soul, while your words came to a halt as soon as the cold metal came in contact with your body.

He wouldn’t, would he? He wouldn’t kill you, right?

“I’m what? Say it,” he urged darkly. His words laced with authority and lust.

“You’re the mob boss everyone talks about. You’re the Sebastian Stan, you’re…,” you words stopped again as you felt his fingers wrapped around your throat.

He didn’t choke you to a point where it was uncomfortable. He just wanted you to know that you were at his mercy, to a point where even your breath was his.

He smirked when he saw a damp spot forming at the center of your underwear, turning the white material slightly transparent.

So, his girl was kinky, huh?

Your wrists immediately wrapped themselves around his arm, involuntarily urging him to keep his hand there, at your throat. And he liked that.

“I’m what, babe?” he whispered again, resting the tip of the barrel against your left cheek. Indirectly causing to select your words carefully, very carefully.

“You’re…dangerous,” you simply said and he chuckled out loud. Despite the possible humor, you sensed the menace in his voice.

“Oh babygirl, I’m more than just dangerous. But you know I won’t ever hurt you, I can’t. I always protect what’s mine, and you’re mine. You’re safe with me. Just, don’t run from me,” he spoke, hand still gripping your throat lightly and the barrel of his gun still pressed to your cheek.

It could be the rush of the moment, or it could be fear, or the reflexive lust coursing in your veins; but somehow you sensed the presence of validity in his words. Although very much aware that it could simply be your delusional mind’s thought, your fear morphed into something else.

A familiar want. A raw desire which only seemed to surface when you’re with him. His mysterious aura, the electricity in his touch, the pure sin which dripped from his words – they all caused a magnetic pull which drew you to him. And despite it all, you couldn’t ignore the fact that you wanted him.

Memories of the last time he had touched your body resurfaced in your head and it accelerated the flow of passion which pooled into your underwear.

“Why?” it seemed like you directed the question more towards yourself than to him.

“Why what?” he asked back, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“You barely know me. Why would you follow me all the way here?” you asked, oblivious to the exchange which happened between him and Chris.

He let out a sigh and smiled.

“If only you knew, babygirl, if only you knew,” he spoke and released your throat, putting the gun by his side as he pulled you forward with one hand.

He dragged you to your bed and pushed you on it; onto which you landed with a bounce in a sitting position.

While you sat, weirdly calm, on the edge of the bed; he stood in between your legs and looked down upon you.

You wouldn’t lie, he looked better from that angle… fuck!

“I told you to stay safe. Daddy told you he’d be back for you, then why did you have to run? Do you know how angry I was to learn that my babygirl was disobeying?” he held your jaw gently in his hands.

It seemed like he wanted to be harsh on you, but something stopped him. He didn’t want to scare you; well he barged into your room with a gun, but you could tell that that wasn’t his intention.

His babygirl…

You were all for women not having to be treated like objects belonging to men, but damn did that turn you on.

It seemed like you could no longer control your body; because at this point, it listened to him just like your mind was under his enchantment.

You wanted to say something, anything. But you couldn’t. So you let him to the talking.

“And now she won’t even apologize! You really need to be put in line baby. Tell me, do you trust me?” he asked, bending down so he was on eye level with you. His thumb caressed your face gently as he spoke.

His stormy blue ones staring into your shining e/c ones. His eyes reminded you of a thunder storm over a rough deep blue sea; tempting but vulnerable.

Unable to speak, you simply nodded as anticipation occupied your mind. The mixture of recklessness, fear, lust and mystery made your heart race as you felt the heavy sexual tension in the air wrapped around the both of you.

“That’s my good girl, now lay down, hands over your head and close your eyes. Don’t open then or move until I tell you to, got it?” he instructed and waited for your reply, all while searching your eyes.

You nodded again and he smiled as he watched you follow the instructions he gave you. You almost immediately positioned yourself flat in the bed, closed your eyes and put your wrists above your head and kept them there.

Your other senses heightened instinctively and you could hear him walk around the room; opening drawers and closing them with a slam. Each sound made you jump a little but you didn’t dare to open your eyes just the slightest.

“You know, I’ve waited for a girl like you all my life. Won’t lie to you, doll, I’ve had a generous share of women in my bed. But none of them ever made me chase them like you do. When I first saw you, across the pub, for just a second a glimpse of our future flashed in front of my eyes. I saw myself coming home to you after a long day, I saw you with a beautiful bump, and my baby safe inside your womb. I saw us, doll. And from that moment I knew that you’d be mine, whatever it took,” he spoke, narrating his thoughts while he walked around the room, checking the drawers and closets.

He walked slowly, like as if he had all the time in the world and more, as he told you about his reveries. Part of it made you anxious and part of it didn’t.

A future with him seemed-

Your thoughts halted abruptly as you felt his hands on your body.

Sebastian ran his fingers along your thighs and left feathery kisses along your inner thighs. His mouth seemed so close to your heat yet so far.

Soon, he hooked his fingers to the seam of your underwear and dragged it down your legs until he got rid of it. Once done with that, you felt him straddle your lower body, trapping your legs in between his thighs and locking them in place.

“Your beauty amazes me baby,” he whispered as you felt him reach around your torso to unhook your bra and lift the material off your body.

Right after he did that, his lips found yours and caught them in a deep kiss. His skilled tongue found its way into your mouth as he occasionally sucked and bit on your lower lip.

His hand held your face while he assaulted your lips and bit around your mouth to mark his territory. You didn’t complain, not even once. Instead, you moaned into his mouth over and over again.

Your body squirmed, your back lifted off the bed just the slightest bit before he pushed you back into the mattress, breaking the kiss.

“Sebastian, please,” you moaned. Wrong move. And you learnt so by feeling a smack on your thigh.

You let out a whimper, but the burn felt good. And you wanted more but you wouldn’t tell the gorgeous man just yet.

“Somebody just can’t help but misbehave, right?” he spoke and right after he finished, you heard something click. Like a pen would.

After which, you heard nothing else. And Sebastian was silent as well.

Why would he do with a pen? You thought.

Moments later, a sweet, aromatic air filled the room. You took a deep breath through your nose to analyze the scent better and came to the conclusion that it was probably one of the Vanilla and white chocolate scented candles your dad’s wife wouldn’t stop talking about.

But why would Sebastian u-

Your rational thoughts came to a stop yet again as you felt a drop of a hot liquid fall right above your belly button. Instinctively, your back arched off the bed and you let an uncontrolled moan escaped your lips.

It burned, but it felt good. Again.

As another drop of melted wax hit your skin, you simultaneously felt the faint brush of cold fingers against your glistening folds.

“You’re always so ready for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl,” Sebastian commented and moved his hands faster against your needy core as the candle kept dripping on your skin.

He must have moved the candle upwards, because you felt the wax drip down the valley of your breasts and you couldn’t help but moan out loud.

“Daddy…please,” you moaned, your eyes shut, hands behind your head, legs trapped beneath his robust body and his hands all over you. You were the epitome of helpless. And he liked the sight of that.

He slowly traced your dripping entrance with his finger and chuckled.

“Please what, baby?” he asked as if unaware of the sweet misery he was inflicting upon you.

“I- I need you to touch me, daddy please,” you pleaded, with your eyes shut as you tried to pick up the sounds of his next movements but none came.

His fingers found their way in between your folds and into your tight entrance. And each time he pumped his two fingers into your wet heat, the filthy sounds it made caused your heat to drip even more.

“Daddy, please make me cum,” you whined again, turning you head to the side so your arm would muffle the sound of the moan which escaped your mouth.

He clicked his tongue.

“Not yet, babygirl. Daddy’s not done with you yet,” he spoke.

He rocked his fingers in and out of you at a pace so slow that it was almost painful. He was not gonna let you cum just like that; he wanted you to literally beg him for it.

He kept the candle above you, moving it inch by inch all over your torso and abdomen. It seemed like he was making a specific pattern but in the moment, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

Hot, melted wax dripped down your body; mimicking the drips of your desire as it flowed out of your and coated his fingers.

He adjusted his body as he straddled you and soon, you could feel a growing bulge against your thigh.

You lost all control of your senses when he allowed the melted wax to drop on top of your hip bone. A slow and passionate moan escaped your lips.

Hot, fiery; similar to your need to have him inside you.

“You are so beautiful, my princess. Daddy will always, always take care of you,” he spoke softly; a complete contrast to what he was doing to your body.

A few more specific drops of melted wax later, he seemed to have doused the candle and set it aside as he lifted off your body; for a brief moment.

You whined because of the loss of contact, and mainly because he got you so worked up only to not let you cum yet.

You heard the shuffling of his suit and a few seconds later, he brought his attention back to you.

His hands roamed your body, caressing your breasts, rubbing his hands up and down your arms while his lips attached to yours once again.

His kiss was slow and steady this time; he was in no rush. You felt each stroke of his tongue, each brush of his lips and each tug by his teeth. It was pure bliss.

He broke the kiss and dragged his lips down your body, until he reached your core.

He groaned as he allowed his lips to faintly brush against your wet folds.

“All wet and waiting for me, you’re very needy, aren’t you? Open your eyes, baby,” he spoke against your wet core, his warm breath hitting the damp surface and driving crazy with need.

You opened your eyes and noticed that he had dimmed the lights of the room, the air still smelled like vanilla and chocolate and as you looked down your body, you saw the now hard wax drops scattered all over your body; from your breasts to your hip bones. A sinful masterpiece created by the blue eyed man in front of you.

Sebastian had taken off his suit and shirt, leaving him in his black pants; which were now unzipped.

“Come here,” he said softly and you dragged your body until you sat on the edge of the bed once again. You knew what was coming, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“You’re gonna take daddy’s cock into your pretty mouth, yeah? You’re gonna let daddy use your mouth, aren’t you, doll?” he asked and you nodded in response embarrassingly fast, as you looked up at him with your glossy e/c eyes.

Once he placed his hand on your face, holding it gently – you got to work immediately.

You got on your knees in front of him and pulled down his pants while palmed his bulge through his briefs and he let out a groan and gripped your face tighter in his hand.

“Don’t tease me, babygirl, it’s not gonna end well for you,” he informed you as his hand moved to your hair, making a makeshift ponytail to hold on to.

You pulled down his briefs and his member excitedly stood in front of your face. You wasted no time in taking him into your mouth. Your tongue traced his slit a couple of times and you noticed that whenever you did, he’d buck his hips forward and let out a breathy moan.

You had never been with someone as big as him, so taking him completely into your mouth was slightly difficult. You took him into your wet cave inch by inch and as you did, his breathing got quicker.

You felt his length twitch inside your mouth and you felt the prominent vein press against your tongue as you bobbed your head up and down his member.  

His tip reached the furthest part of your mouth and you realized that you managed to take all of him, and damn he was big.

“Fuck! Baby, your mouth feels so- so good,” he moaned as he tugged on your hair. Hearing him moan was the hottest thing you had ever heard. Of course, you had given blowjobs to past lovers, but this was different.

This wasn’t just a regular guy. This was THE mob boss; most notorious one the country had ever known. You knew people who were truly terrified of his power. He was a well-known, cold hearted criminal. His reputation, his pride and his dominance; they all preceded him.

Yet, here he was; a moaning mess with your mouth wrapped around him.

As he moaned, your core throbbed even more and you wanted nothing more than to just press your two fingers against your clit and alleviate your pain but you knew better.

He moaned your name a few times, and which each time; you worshipped his length more and more, hollowing you cheeks to suck him off better.

Within the next few moments, he held your hair tighter and bucked his hips against your mouth a little faster; fucking your mouth and also signaling that his orgasm was close. His cock twitched in your mouth again as you felt the salty precum trickle down your throat slowly.

Once his length throbbed again, you gave him one last suction and felt his load shoot into your mouth. The taste of him, along with your heat throbbing with need was a deadly combination.

You watched him as the feeling of pure bliss washed over him, his eyes rolled back and his head fell back as he came, hard.

Slowly, you lifted your mouth off him; giving his slit one last lick.

He groaned as his orgasm washed over him and pulled harder on your hair, looking down at you. You were on your knees, hands on your lap and a smirk on your lips. Lips which were wrapped around him just a few seconds.

God…you were a sight. And you were all his.

He pulled you up and threw you back on the bed.

“On all fours, baby. Now,” he instructed and you happily obeyed; your heat was clenching with need and nothing else mattered in that moment.

You got on all fours and waited for him. He stroked his length a couple of times as he watched you on the bed. So innocent, yet so sinful.

You waited for him to slide his length into you but instead came his hand, smacking you right on your ass.

“Ouch!” you yelled at the unexpected pain.

He smacked your left butt cheeks again and you yelled out again. It hurt, but it lowkey turned you on even more, although, your core was now throbbing even more than before. And Sebastian knew.

He gave you two more spanks and immediately massaged the skin. He smiled as he saw the stretch marks on your skin; it reminded him of how much more he would add when you’d be expecting his baby one day. The thought of you being thoroughly his was enchanting.

“Does it hurt, baby? Well now you know how much it hurt me when I found out you were running away from me,” he spoke as he spanked you one more time, followed by a bite on your ass.

You moaned out loud again.

“Daddy please,” you whined as another smack landed on your ass. It would probably leave a mark, you though. Maybe even a hand print.

“Beg,” he simply said and you groaned. He already had you completely at his mercy, what more did he want? Jesus!

“Seb, please! I’m sorry, just- just fuck me, daddy please. It hurts,” you moaned, accidentally calling him by a new nickname.

Seb… no one ever called him that. No one but-

He stopped himself before even thinking about that name.

Normally, he’d have the head of anyone who called him by that name. But since it came from you, he liked it. He liked it a lot.

He liked it so much that he decided that he had teased you enough for today.

“Come here, babe,” he whispered and pulled you up and rolled you over so you laid down flat on the bed with his body settled in between your legs.

When your sore ass made contact with the cotton sheets, it burned even more. But you didn’t care, you wanted him, and that’s all that mattered.

When you looked up at his body hovering above you, a tear escaped you eye. You didn’t know if it was because of the built up sexual frustration, the lust in your veins, or just the fact that your emotions were creating a ruckus inside your head.

Sebastian ran his thumb over your cheek and caught the tear before it fell further down your cheek. He hated it, he hated the sight of his girl crying.

But he knew he could make it better.

He captured your lips into a deep kiss and allowed your hands to wrap around his broad shoulders. You pulled him closer, until his chest pressed against your erected nipples and he moaned into the kiss. Nothing felt better than having you under him, under his control.

His tongue slipped through your lips and it stroked the top of your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss and he gently bit your mouth.

His lips travelled to your sweet spot and he assaulted the sensitive skin mercilessly; compelling you into becoming a whimpering hot mess under his touch.

While he left even more marks across your neck, he aligned his tip to your heat and gave it a slight push to slide it through your glistening heat.

Once your walls took him in little by little, the familiar bubble formed inside the two of you.

“Fuck, you’re so warm babygirl,” he moaned into your ear and your back arched off the bed once more as he filled you up entirely.

He kept still, not moving and you felt his cock throbbing inside of you. Your walls wrapped around him perfectly and as you moaned, he understood that you were well adjusted to his size now and took it as a cue to start moving in and out of you slowly.

He started out slow, and then gradually set the speed so both your body moved rhythmically against one another; giving each other a better angle at which you could feel all of him.

And you did.

He filled you up nicely and within seconds, you were a moaning mess.

“Seb! Fuck I- oh fuck, daddy please,” you whined against his cheeks, signaling that you couldn’t hold it much longer given your previous activities.

You felt his ragged breath right at you ear and he chuckled, rocking against you at a much faster speed now.

“I know, baby. I know,” he spoke and ended with a groan and he wrapped his arms around your torso and lifted your back off the bed a little bit.

You moaned as he hit your g-spot with each thrust in this position. A series of cuss words left both your mouths as you basked into each other’s presence.

You opened your eyes to look at him and his eyes were closed as he frowned in pleasure. You moaned out loud when one of his hand slipped in between both of you and rubbed your little bundle of nerves furiously.

“Cum for me, doll. Cum for daddy like the good girl you are,” he urged you and you happily obeyed once again.

You both knew you wouldn’t last long so as soon as he finished speaking, you let go. Yelling out his name and a few cuss words in the process; you came around him.

Your walls milked in relentlessly and soon, he came as well. His load shooting your warm walls and you could feel him leaking out of you as he slowly pulled out.

You were both breathing hard and fast, hearts racing and he rolled off you and settled by your side. A layer of sweat coated both your bodies; your ass cheeks were stinging due to the friction and the wax was still on your skin. And Sebastian just laid next to you, silently with his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly.

As you looked at him, a strange feeling took over. And the butterflies came back.

You inched closer to him and sheepishly rested your head on top of his chest. You placed your ear right on top of his racing heart and listened intently at the heartbeats.

Once he felt your head on top of his chest, he smiled and instinctively wrapped his arms around you. He discretely placed a kiss on top of your head and relished the feeling of having his girl in his arms.

“Not so dangerous now, am I?” he teased and you smiled, blushing.

I am naked in bed with a mob boss in my dad’s house, expect the unexpected indeed.

“I didn’t run from you,” you said out of nowhere and his silence signaled that he was listening.

His hand rubbed your shoulder and urged you to keep going.

“I ran from what I was feeling. I- it’s not you. It’s just, I don’t know, people talk you know. And even in the little town where I’m from, they talk about what you do. I’ve heard the stories about you when I was in college, a friend of mine cancelled her trip to Amsterdam only because she found out that you were currently there. People are scared of you, and I thought I should be too. So, I took off,” you explained and he listened without interrupting.

“I won’t hurt you,” came his reply to what you just said.

You didn’t know what to say, or feel. So, you kept quiet.

After a while of just cuddling and listening to each other’s heartbeat, you decided to take a shower together. After which, you cleaned the room and got in bed for the night.

“You’re mine,” Sebastian whispered into your ear.

You smiled despite the mixed feelings about this whole situation. Right after he spoke, his phone rang. He picked it up from the floor and groaned when he saw the caller ID.

“I’ll be right back, doll, gotta talk to these a-holes or else they’ll turn my world upside down with their stupidity,” he explained and walked out the room, leaving you in bed.

As soon as he walked out, your phone rang.

Weird, you thought, who would call you at almost midnight?

You stared at your phone screen and it said that it was an unknown number. If it were a few days ago, you would have ignored the call, but now that you’ve slept with the mob boss himself – nothing scared you and nothing seemed dangerous anymore.

You decided to take the call.

“Hello?” you spoke and immediately froze.

“Hello? Honey, its dad! Listen, peanut, this may sound terrifying but trust me, please. Okay, honey, I need to get out of the house. Right now. It’s not safe. Get your things and get out, now. There’s a black Range waiting in the driveway, it’s unlocked and inside there’s an address. I need you to get to that address. Please, honey, get there and I’ll explain everything. Okay? I love you more than anything, my darling. Please be safe, I’m waiting for you,” and with that, he ended the call.

Your heart raced at his words. What could this mean? Did your dad find out about Sebastian? How?

What the fuck is happening? You thought.

You could hear Sebastian barking orders at someone in French yet again, and from the sound of it, it seemed like he was in the kitchen downstairs.

So, if you were to grab your unpacked bags and make a run for it through the bedroom window, he wouldn’t hear a thing.

Between Sebastian and your dad, you trusted your dad better. But why did it feel wrong to run away from him again?

Okay, fuck this shit. If dad said something’s wrong, then something’s wrong!

 So you scribbled a note to Sebastian, slipped your shoes on, grabbed your bag and stepped out the window. The jump wasn’t that high, you would make it.

So you made the jump. Along which, you made a grave mistake.

The mob boss just wanted your attention and your love. He wanted you to know that you were his. He wanted to give you the world. But now, he’d have to hunt you down and make sure you never run again. Because like he said before; he will always want you back.

This series’ tag list: (feel free to let me know if anyone else wants to tagged in future parts)

@crawlingnightmares @derekxsammy @coffees-and-constellations @josie605 @someone-i-use-to-know @enigma-xlii @fromtheheartandsoul @docharleythegeekqueen @nostagicgrant @undiscovered-misunderstood @moowaa-us @flipflopasshat @finallysomegoodfuckingcontent @spideyxxboi @everything-is-awesomesauce @fangirl-writer-awesomeness @euphoricbuckys @keepcalmandsosayweall @naurin-of-the-east @hadou-queen @a-kiddo-with-a-doggo @theunknowinglys @toinfinityandbeyondaffection @nerdytarah @purplechipsblog @bxxbxy @loving-barnes @msruchita @abehn @varvarafromgr @thehuntress26 @nojerama1996 @namebydot @carlya65 @mattmurdocksbitch @mustbeaweasleyginger @otakushifter @parker-barnes-af @ladifreakingda @nerdeey @airloe @studentville-struggles @yikes-buckybarnes 

sorry if Tumblr didn’t let me tag you :(  and i apologize for any typos, it’s midnight but i posted because i love all my horny ballsacks!! 

[charliekeeting]

alternatively, three moments of clarity and one moment of heartbreak.                                                  [ feat. @royisms ]

“you can call me charles”

it’s a late night at the office and there’s an early morning the next day. both charlie and amanda know this, but it never stopped them from staying up late, and it doesn’t tonight. with both of them living such busy lives - charlie a newly elected government official and amanda running a successful campaign herself, the pair found every moment they could. sometimes, it was 3am between a bottle of red wine and some green.

charlie pulls themselves off their fire escape, extinguishing the remainder of the joint.

i once set off every smoke alarm in this building, they told her earlier when she watched them climb out the fire escape and light a joint for the first time. i’m not letting that happen again. and although he most certainly did in the coming months, that night, charlie wandered back in without having to deal with the fire department.

midnight conversations about shit neither of them understood were common. about god and science, about skeptics and supernatural, about the fear of the unknown. one might have argued they were too optimistic for their own good sometimes, but charlie enjoyed the late nights and early mornings with amanda, where they could fall asleep with her in their arms, their tall body wrapped around her small frame.

charlie barely remembers it, but in the back of his memory sits a piece of a conversation they’ve had only had with a handful of other people.

“you can call me charles, you know that right?” they whisper, eyes fluttered closed. “i don’t use it in the house because people are assholes.” their words begin to slow slightly, as if the speed was being turned down. “but i like the name. it’s why i never changed it fully. i just don’t like giving those dickheads power over me. but you can call me charles… if you want.”

“the breakup”

they are never at a loss for words. of all the public speaking and here they are, sitting on the kitchen counter, fumbling over syllables. they wonder if she notices. they wonder if she can tell every time they sit on a counter now they think of him. it’s an idle distraction - although not completely harmless - for the moment. for some reason, knowing what they’ve planned to do tonight has taken charlie’s brain through the ringer. they wrote something down and scrapped it a hundred times and how exactly do you break up with someone who’s perfect for you but the timing just isn’t right?

they near spill the words out of their mouths at the same time, and it takes charlie a second to process what’s happening, but they laugh about it after… a long time after. at first charlie is sad about the fact that they both thought there was too much going on to keep the other in their life. something about that fact makes it all the more painful.

“just friends”

tequila before a what’s sure to be a shitty week in the house is common at this point, but tonight, there was something else behind the drinks.

after rekindling their friendship, charlie and amanda find themselves stumbling out of the one bar that’s open past two am, holding onto each other. charlie’s probably more drunk than amanda, or at least, he believes that’s the case. his tall, lithe frame is teetering on his heels. his hands hold her body for balance even though she is much smaller than they are. still, there’s no denying they’re both out of it. she runs ahead for a moment, and charlie nearly topples over before they catch their balance. they watch her spin in front of them and charlie smiles, admires the way her body moves again, hopes they aren’t crossing a line with their eyes. they show off the new piercing sitting in their left ear. charlie asks if maybe next they should get a belly button piercing and their laughter elicits a couple of grumbled groans from annoyed neighbors.

the taxi ride back to amanda’s was something charlie didn’t realize they were waiting for. the stories are familiar until amanda whispers “you know, you were some of the best kisses i’ve ever had.” and charlie smiles and says thank you and part of him wishes she had said something more.

and as if god herself heard charlie’s prayer, he feels amanda’s breath fall out ever so gently…. “do it again?”

they barely make it into amanda’s apartment before charlie’s hands move to amanda’s waist, holding her as if letting her go again would be the worst decision in the world. their bodies intertwine again, and this isn’t the first time, but god, charlie knows this is the worst.

she says “we can call this closure right?”

he can’t help but think, no. i can’t. they don’t say that out loud.

“at your door”

that hot july night, amanda shows up unexpected.

charlie’s glasses sit on the bridge of their nose, hair tied in a messy top knot. they move their papers aside to get up off the floor when the doorbell rings and their eyebrows twist together for a moment as they look through the peephole in their door, not sure who would be stopping by tonight. like second nature, charlie slides open the deadbolt and the door as soon as he sees who’s on the other side. before it’s even is fully open, charlie’s immediately asking questions. what’s up? is something wrong? are you okay? what happened? the words stumble out of their mouth quickly only because he doesn’t know why she’s here.

she doesn’t answer with her words.

it takes all of thirty seconds before amanda’s shoes have been popped off in the entryway and charlie is carrying her into the bedroom, lips tangled into each other. their paint-covered tank top is thrown across the room, amanda’s skirt is on the ground and all of a sudden their bodies hit charlie’s mattress before the world stops for a split-second. their eyes meet. charlie’s brown pupils and her green ones find each other in a moment between heatwaves. they don’t need to ask if she’s okay - deep down, they know the answer. they know that amanda probably needs their warm body tonight and nothing else. but something about this split second between them changes things. as if their eyes tell each other stories neither understands. their lips move down to amanda’s slowly, softly. charlie knows what his kiss means, what it really means.

i love you so much. 
i want you. 
i need you. 
i miss you.

please come back to me.

they don’t say any of those things, but confusion compounds when she kisses back softly, as if the unspoken dialogue between them is a cracked cypher code. as if maybe she gets it.

that night is different than any other they’ve spent together. for the first time, charlie takes control in a way they never have with her. amanda has always been the one to instigate, to lead, to show charlie exactly how they want to be loved. but this time, the movements between them are soft, gentle, as if neither wants to break the other’s already broken pieces. charlie handles her with care that night. it’s the first time they don’t just fuck each other, the first time they touch each other in a way that cuts deeper than the nails on each other’s backs. this time it is raw, and honest, and more than just good sex.

the next morning, charlie wakes up before she does, feels their long hair falling out of the elastic wrapped around their brunette locks and walks over to the washroom. the small task of redoing their hair breaks them that morning. they feel their eyes well up ever so slightly, throat tightening around the truth sitting in their lungs as they stare at their face in the mirror, blurry without glasses. they know that despite what last night may have seemed like, charlie isn’t an idiot, and neither is amanda. he knows when the universe just makes things work and he knows that is very different from when amanda doesn’t call him for months on end only to show up at his door and immediately press their lips together. he knows that he is nothing more than her safety net - a home when the wind breaks walls.

it doesn’t stop them, though. it never has. they splash their face with water and pretend they weren’t just a mild mess in the bathroom, picking up their glasses from the floor where they had fallen the night before and move back into the bedroom, stopping in the doorframe to look at amanda’s sleeping frame, smiling tragically at the blonde - as if maybe they could stay in this moment forever.

she shifts and wakes up. charlie catches her movement through the lens of his horn rimmed glasses. his vision is clear now, but it’s tainted pink today. she looks over at him and he smiles back before crawling back into bed with her. their lips pressing together again, soft and gentle, a good morning charlie didn’t ask for.

that’s when charlie knows he’s fucked.

[thenonsenseuniverse]

Coffee Cups and Leather Jackets pt. 7

Hamilton Modern Au Hamilsquad x Reader Thomas Jefferson x Reader PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7

Summary: After finally getting away from ‘The King’, You decide that maybe it’s time you talk to Jefferson about his own interests in you. Meanwhile, the Hamilsquad decide to come up with a plan to get Y/N at The Blue Coats. Washington confronts them.

          You had been sitting through dinner with these three imbeciles for about an hour and a half, and you could feel your self-control slipping. Within that hour and a half, all Sam, Charles, and George had discussed a range of things from how the school should stop accepting lower classmen as they only tarnish its ivy league reputation, to insulting the Hamilsquad, to simply talking about their classes. Throughout these discussions, George’s hand seemed to be restless on your skin. It went from your shoulder, to hand, to your knee, before finally resting on your thigh. You didn’t like his touch, but you played along. 

“What I don’t understand is why, despite being the smartest and most powerful man in the school, we’re still not liked by the student body. Hamilton humiliated me in front of the entire student body when I was giving my proclamation on how the student body should be behaving and how we should be treated. He called me a dog!” Samuel whined putting his head on the table. 

You sighed, growing tired of being submissive, and turned to him. “Do yo-you ever think th-that m-m-maybe it’s for that very reason that pep-uh-people disrespect yo-you?” They all went quiet and looked at you. You shrunk back into George’s chest shyly. “I-I-I mean, p-people don’t like, um, like being t-to-told what t-t-to do. People like the H-Hamilsquad believe in f-freed-dom, and th-that people should be a-b-ble to be them s-s-selves n-no matter who th-they are or wh-where they come f-from. So of c-course it’s going t-t-to upset th-them if you outright oppose them. Inst-stead of working against their be-believes, you n-need to allow them t-to pr-prove themselves wrong. Th-then provide th-them the resources to see th-things yo-your way. “

Charles rose a suspicious eyebrow at you. “Are you saying that our King is wrong? He is never wr-”

“Oh do shut up, Charles.” George cut him off as he stared ahead thoughtfully. “ So you’re saying I should let them go, have their independence, and let them realize just how much they truly need me when their alone and complaining of their own?” You nodded, and he hummed in agreement as he smiled down at you. “I suppose that is what happened to you, isn’t it? I gave you a little more space than usual, and next thing I know, you’ve come to senses about those scum and now your here with me.”

Huh. You hadn’t thought about it that way. You, of course, knew that wasn’t the case, but simply nuzzled deeper against his chest. You could practically feel him grin as he began to run his fingers through your hair. 

“Y/N has a point, boys. This strategy would take much less time and energy and we wouldn’t have to use our sources through the school as much.” You slightly narrowed your eyebrows at this but said nothing. George brought his fingers under your chin and smiled at you. “I always knew you would be of great value to us, Y/N. You’ve only been part of the group for a day and already your slipping into your role by my side.”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You didn’t like his tone or the way he was looking at you right now. You needed to end this. 

You smiled up at him. “Thank you, my King, it's good to know that at least someone appreciates me.” You then let out a subtle yawn and glanced down at your watch. “However, as wonderful as this day with you has been, I’m exhausted and-”

George sighed and chuckled. “Of course, I completely forgot. You have English with Mr. Green tomorrow at 8pm.” You felt your blood go cold slightly. He knew your schedule, apparently, he knew your history, and he no doubt had more knowledge on you as well. This means that this man knows more about you than anyone except your family. You didn’t like this. George seemed to pick up on your confused fear and ruffled your hair. “Don’t look like that, it wasn’t too hard to find out your schedule. Just a matter of pulling a few strings within the administration's office. Your information is safe with me.” He snapped his fingers and signaled for everyone to rise. “Come on, we’re taking Y/N back to their dorm. They have a midterm to study for.” The more he talked the less at ease you felt. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist as you were leaving. “You know, if you need help, Samuel is majoring in English. I mean, not that your grades are slacking, they’re stellar actually. But Samuel is our communications and English expert, I handle all the business and sciences and Charles...” He paused for a moment before sighing. “Well Charles is trying his best, but he’s loyal; I’ll give him that.”

After that, they did as promised. George got the driver to bring them to your dorm and kissed your hand before you left. “We’ll save you a seat at our table at lunch, Darling. Be sure to be there.” His words were final and left no room for you to say otherwise. He then flashed you a bright smile and waved as the car pulled away. 

The moment it was out of your sight you let out a huge breath as all tension left your body. “Well, that was fucked up.” You mumbled under your breath as you entered your dorm. 

As you entered the comfort of your bedroom, you reflected on the past week or so.

You finally confronted your shitty friends on their shitty behavior and dumped their asses

You met Jefferson and his friends on the same day. Which, to be honest, it was kind of creepy, but you were too sad and lonely to notice at the time.

And finally, you just went on the equivalent of a date with your long term stalker as per Jefferson’s request and am now scared to leave your dorm lest you be followed by his perverted ass. 

When had your life become so dramatic? When had you allowed it to become this? 

The image of a magenta leather jacket flashed in your mind.  Jefferson. Looking back on your first interaction with him, it all seemed staged. There were similarities between how he treated you at that moment and how George treated you when you pretended to be in that same situation. They both desired to manipulate your pain to get what they wanted. They both seemed to have extensive knowledge about you, George more so than Jefferson. 

Was it possible that Jefferson was hiding things from you? Aaron had briefly mentioned that he had been obsessed with you at some point. 

But why? What so interesting about quiet little Y/N? Why did both Jefferson and George, arguably two of the most powerful students on campus, deem you worthy of their attention?

Just thinking about all of it gave you a headache. You’d deal with it tomorrow, for now, you had to sleep. George was right about one thing, you had class in the morning and if you didn’t want to be a sleep-deprived zombie you had to go to bed now. 

You curled up under the covers and allowed sleep to overcome you.

***

At the same time, across town, the Hamilsquad was entering The Blue Coats.

They were exhausted. Ever since they had seen Jefferson and Y/N at the cafe a couple days ago, they had been working non-stop to come up with a plan to get them back. However, nothing seemed to be good enough. 

Laurens plopped himself onto the nearest bar stool and slumped his head against the counter. “What are we going to do?” He groaned.

Alex scoffed and joined him. “There’s not much we can do with Jefferson spewing non-sense in their ear.”

Herc shook his head as he took his seat. “No there’s got to be away. I mean she just met Jefferson. She’s known us for over a year and a half. Yeah, we fucked up, but the fact of the matter is that she knows us.” 

They all turned to Laf as he silently sat down staring intently at the counter. Alexander rose an eyebrow at his behavior when suddenly he was hit with an idea.

“What! Laf is friends with Jefferson. He can get inside information for us.” 

The Frenchman sighed and looked up. “I do know him, but we’re not quite friends. More like he did me a favor once and now I owe him once.” He narrowed his eyebrows as he turned to them. “What confuses me is Jefferson never does anything without a reason. Everything is planned out and done with precision. So what does he want from Y/N?”

As they asked themselves this question, Washington appeared from the back and seemed to relax at their present. “Ah, boys! I was hoping I’d see you tonight.”

Hercules smiled at him. “G. Wash! What’s up? It has been a while since we’ve last been in.”

Washington batted off the welcome and looked at the with an air of authority and seriousness. “Can any of you contact Y/N? They were here earlier tonight with some...questionable company and didn’t seem entirely at ease. I want to make sure that they’re okay.”

The boys glanced at each other as Alex let out another groan of frustration. “I know! They’ve been hanging out with that no good Thomas Jefferson and-”

Washington frowned at his words. “They weren’t with Jefferson. Although that makes me worry even more. I trust that man about as far as I can throw. But no, they were here with that nasty little shit George and his posse. I offered them an angel shot, but they denied it. The whole thing just felt off.”

The entire Hamilsquad felt their blood run cold. Y/N hated George. He was a stalker, creepy, and possessive. He had been trying to get his grimy little hands on them since the moment he saw them. They had always been there to protect them though, always there to stop it. 

Why would they go out with George willingly? Why would they put themselves in danger like that?

“Oh Y/N,” John whimpered out. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Teen!Chucky /Charles Lee Ray x Reader || Oneshot

Title: Night Time Air 

Notes:

·         Y/B/F: Your best friend

·         This was inspired by Season 5 Pretty Little Liars when Caleb and Alison are rocky and Alison tries to tell Hanna not to be with him, and she goes ahead and gets back together with him. 

·         Told you I would overuse this gif. 

·         I should be doing requestssssss

Plot: 

Chucky is the boy at your school, that is well known for all the bad things he has done. He has no respect for anyone except… maybe you… and he is unpredictable, which is exactly why your friend, your bitchy, not-really-your-friend, frenemy-that-you-only-spend-any-of-your-time-with-because-your-real-friends-like-her tries to order you not to hang out with him.

You don’t take it well.

Warnings: Language maybe? 

~~~

It takes a few seconds before I can clear my enough, and stop myself from jumping to the conclusion of what she’s trying to tell me. Demand of me. “What?”

“You shouldn’t hang out with him anymore. I mean, I know he’s pretty and everything,” With a roll of her eyeshadow heavy eyes, she tries to infer to me, that my friendship with Chucky is so skin deep. Again, I bite my tongue and stop myself from saying anything, but oh, are there things coming to mind that I wish I would say. “But he’s never been any good, since kindergarten. I’m just looking out for you, you know. You know that I love you.” Oh, sure.

My blood boils at her words, and the fake way she tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows, the  touch she manages to land on my arm before I flinch away that makes me feel disgusting. She has to be aware that we are not friends, and there is no one else around so where does she get off saying this stuff to me. Demanding something, from me like she’s got any authority. “Maybe you didn’t sense my complete disbelief the first time through your hairspray; I understand chemicals can interfere with alien sensory technology. So, let me say it again. What?”

“Woho,” She laughs, but I see under the thin, unimpressive veil of counterfeit that completes her look of total bitch, that she was not expecting a snap back like that. “Wow, Y/N. No need to get salty… “

Something about the night air has made me confident tonight, for sure. Because at school, there’s no way I’d say these things to her. I’m glad I came out tonight! “I don’t know where you think you get the authority to tell me what to do, but you’re mistaken.” Nervously, I glance past her into Y/B/F’s house to see if they were looking at us, because the last thing I need is drama with the others after this, and then stonily back at Jane. “Tell the others whatever, I’ll set it straight tomorrow. I gotta go, I happen to know where Chucky’ll be tonight.”

She narrows her eyes and looks miffed, but I’m already turning around, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket and walking off down the street. God, I’m glad I said that. Its been dying to come out since I realised I didn’t like her in the first place- it might stir some trouble in our group, but its better she knows I don’t like her then to let her keep thinking she any control in my life. Besides, I’d kinda… I’d much rather go see Chucky then stay in and play forced Monopoly with her for the rest of the night, and wake up in the morning with moustache drawn on my face.

When I get to my destination, I don’t see him but I don’t get to wonder if he just hasn’t come to the playground tonight like he brags he does every night -like some edge master on the big screen,- because he calls my name and I turn around to see him walking over from another street. “What are you doing here?” He stops in front of me on the woodchips and stuffs his hands in his trench coat pockets, grinning down at me in a way that gives me the strangest feeling that he’s glad I’m here. “Thought you’d be… Ahhh, I dunno, enjoying skimpy girl sleepover activities? See, I listen to you. Unless I got the day wrong?” I wish we could move somewhere else, maybe walk around, but he’s just standing and looking at me with his grin like I’m a weeping angel.

Instead of staying there and talking about my run in with Jane, although I’m sure he’d love to hear about it -he doesn’t like her either. One of the many things we talk about when we’re together,- , I turn and head for the swing. “Skimpy girl sleepover activities? Sounds like you put some thought into that!” I tease, sitting in a swing and pushing off. There’s something very free, about playing on a playground when its dark, and no on else is around. I suddenly get why its such a popular teenage stereotype. Not too far out of my comfort zone like most adult things that I want to do or am being pushed to try, but still new.

He laughs. “Would’ve come by and visited if I knew where your girl friend lived.” Turning my head, I watch Chucky come around and get in the other swing, but not push off.

“You would’ve been disappointed. We had intensive plans to snuggle up in our skivvy’s and raincoats and watch Singin’ In The Rain. But I would’ve made room for you!” Which is true. I would. I definitely would. I’d love to ‘accidentally’ fall over and snuggle with him. Totally would. Any day. Yes.

Watching him grin to himself at my dumb joke gives me little tummy squirms, so I take a deep breath as I swing and look away. “Oh well. Glad I get you, tonight. They always seem to win your time.”

“They’re my best friends… “I say, falling backwards and feeling my hair fly after me, on either side of my face. Then turn and grin at Chucky, curiously. “You’ve never expressed any desire to hang with me more, before.”

“Well its not like I have many friends apart from you… “He trails off, but his face doesn’t reveal any sadness or forlorn desire to change that. I know, for a fact, that he doesn’t like anyone else at our school. He has nicknames for them all! And none flattering. He turns to me sharply, causing my heart to seize in my chest. Oh my god. “Custody agreements, how would I go about winning weekends with you?”

Rolling my eyes, I look away and keeping swinging, distracting myself from him. “Mm, payment’s a bit dear,” I mutter, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough to be a mutter to myself. I wanted to reply, but I don’t want him to hear the rest of that quip. Which is ‘Its you have to kiss me’.

Seems the night air isn’t just making me confidently mean, tonight…

“I bet… “He says back, not quite to me and under his breath, the same as how I said it. Then he gets up from the swing and looks around, shifty eyed. “Let’s walk around a bit.”

He looks bored, so I slow down the swing and pop off, not noticing he moved right in front of me until I’ve hopped right into him. “Nice going, pal! Smart move!” I exclaim sarcastically, and push out of his arms and away from his face, which is grinning cheekily and laughing.

“Dunno what you’re complaining for, I’m not the only one who got to second base just then! Wanna try for first?”

“You’re very funny.” I say, forcing an irritated tone through my smiling face. Its times like these, when I thank having a crush on such a loudmouth and tease. “As if.”  

“Yeahh, right. Whatever, come on.” He starts walking, scooping me up on the way, walking with his arm over my shoulders… like friends. Friends. This is friendly, I remind myself quickly. These moments, when he touches me and acts like we’re a couple, are when I curse having a crush on such a loudmouth and tease. We walk around the park, not leaving the gleam of the streetlights, but leaving the mulch of the playground for the grass surrounding it. After a while of conversation about school, and other kids in our class -never touching his father or mine, this night time playground acting as sanctuary, - , we hit a lull in the conversation, and I watch our feet wading through the luscious grass, due to excessive levels of rain recently. My fingers feel like icey poles. He hasn’t removed his arm from me the entire time we’ve been walking, though, so at least the rest of me is warm. “So, what happened to your sleepover anyway. Cancelled or did you blow them off?”

“Uh… I blew it off.” For you. Of course, I don’t utter the last words. Too much of a chicken shit to finish the deal, even feeling the night air on my cheeks.

“There’s my bad girl.”

“Hah,” Thank god, its too cold for my cheeks to heat up. I glance at his face, and do a double take. He’s waiting for the rest of the story! Uhhhhh… “Um, well, we… Jane said something annoying, you know.” Flashing him an awkward half-smile, I see he’s still waiting for the kicker and look away again, picking up his other hand and lacing my fingers through his, to distract me. “Here, warm my fingers up, they’re icey.” As his fingers willingly wrap around mine, I don’t have to glance to feel his look edging me on for the rest of the story. I sigh. “Well, she said something dumb about not wanting me to hang out with a certain bad boy loner type with yucky hair, and I didn’t feel like sticking around.”

“I’m gonna ignore the part about my great hair for the moment, because I’m too chuffed that you stuck up for me… “Remarkably, somehow, his voice is grinning, as he slows us immediately too a stop and moves to stand in front of me, loosening his arm around me just enough to do so, but not letting go so I’m kind of… well, I’m enveloped in him. I can smell his familiar shampoo and aftershave, and feel weirdly, wonderfully small in front of him, who is taller. Which is usually not too noticeably because he isn’t magnificently tall, but he is… 3 to 5 inches taller than me? And because we’re so close, you can tell.

Embarrassingly, I just stand there silently as he grins, and brings our linked hands up to his mouth, to tap a kiss to mine. What? What? WhAT! This is not… this cannot just be friendly, can it? I glance away from his blue-blue eyes, so I can gather my voice back. “Not a big deal.”

“Maybe not, but I like it.”

With nothing else to use my voice for, because I can’t think of anything else to say, I look back up at his, our hands still close to his mouth a grin on his lips. There, I decide to do something. I decide to make or break our friendships, to see what happens, to do something I want to try.

I decide to kiss him.

I tilt my head, and pull down our hands and close my eyes, not allowing for any second thoughts before I get up on my toes and hopefully touch his mouth with mine. I remember wondering what happens if I actually get his chin or his nose, before my lips connect with his and everything goes starry.

Because immediately like he was prepared for it, like that, he kisses back. Pulling me in comfortably with his arm and letting go of my hand so he can cup the side of my neck, his thumb resting on my jaw. I use my new freedom to bunch his coat in my fist, and bring him warmer to me. Not that it could get much warmer for me, with his mouth laying a long, soft kiss to me.

This is definitely the ideal outcome to my decision.  

“Took way too long for you to do that, sweetheart.” Is the first thing he says post-first-kiss, husky and quietly, against my lips as he looks from them to my eyes which is way too attractive a power for a teenage boy to have if you ask me, before kissing me again, this time deeper and with his tongue. All I can do is stand there and try my best to reciprocate the sheer, hot passion that somehow he’s able to convey to me without words, despite this being my first kiss, to the best of my mediocre abilities.

“I… didn’t know you were waiting for it,” I say, when he seems done for more then 2 seconds. A flash of a smile crosses his face, rolling his eyes.

“I wasn’t obvious enough for you??”

“No!”

“I said that I’m glad I get you tonight!”

“That’s code for ‘Kiss me’???”

“Yes!”

“Well, I’ll remember that now!”

He sighs in exasperation while smiling, which is good because I’m grinning too. “Do you wanna just make out some more?”

“Oh, yes, we shall. Good idea.”

[peachesplumsstakesfangs]

Hedgehogs and Raccoons

American High School Elu AU

Eliott sat at the lunch table with Idriss and Sofiane.  He was feeling down and moody, and had really considered skipping school that day but had already missed too many days that semester. Principal Allen had warned him if he missed any more days, he wouldn’t be able to graduate with the rest of the senior class and would have to attend summer school.

Sofiane patted his arm in pity. “You have to be happy for him, Eliott. He had a rough time last year and now he’s dating the most popular guy in school. They are couple royalty here -- top of the social food chain. Lance’s dad owns half of the town. He’s rich and good looking. The girls here fan-girl over them like they’re Hollywood celebrities, and he’s actually popular. Lance is the first openly gay quarterback at Davis High.”

“Gee, Sofiane, thanks for pointing all of that out to me,” Eliott groaned. He looked over at Idriss who was quietly chuckling.  “How do I even compete with all that? He is such a tool; he eats all that attention up. Everyone thinks he’s so brave, but he’s a jerk.”

“He is pretty brave, though,” Idriss said. “He’s taken a lot of abuse for being out and the face of the Bulldogs...the whole team has to face some hurtful, hateful ignorance, especially when we travel. It’s pretty progressive here, not so much in a lot of other places.”

“Well, when you put it like that...I honestly need new friends.” Eliott grumbled. “Look, I fucking support what he’s doing, but I still hate him as a person.” “Are you sure it’s not just jealousy?” Idriss asked. “He’s controlling, I don’t think he’s ever liked me, and he was the biggest bully when we were kids.” “Maybe he knows you’re in love with his boyfriend. You and Lucas are pretty close,” Sofiane pointed out. “The only one who seems blind to your whipped puppy dog eyes is Lucas.”

“I’m not whipped.” Eliott squinted his eyes at his friends...he really had to consider finding new friends. “Lucas never thinks anyone likes him. It’s what makes him so fucking adorable. Half the school wants to get in his pants.” “I’m in the other half...Jinx,” Sofiane and Idriss said at the same time, playfully tagging each other with a punch to the arm and laughing raucously. “Very mature guys,” Eliott chided. “Do I mess with you about Imane?” he asked, looking at Sofiane. “Or Ingrid?” he asked pointing to Idriss.

“Yes,” they both said in unison. “Seriously, though,” Idriss continued, “Lucas is your best friend, and you’ve been crushing on him since middle school. You’ve been his protector since elementary school. I told you to tell him how you felt about him last year.”

“He had just come out, and he was having all those problems at home with his parents,” Eliott explained. “I didn’t want to make things more complicated for him.”

“Ok, that’s understandable, but what about when he first told you about Lance?” Idriss asked.

Eliott shrugged. “Lance is still a jerk,” he mumbled. He looked up. “Shhh....Don’t turn around, Lucas is heading this way.”

Of course, both Idriss and Sofiane turned around at the same time. Lucas fist bumped each of them and then circled around the table to grab Eliott around the neck and kiss him on the cheek. He was relieved that Lucas couldn’t see the googly eyes Sofiane made at the public display of affection. He swung his backpack around and sat it on the table before sitting beside Eliott. “So, Lance is throwing a party Saturday, and we’re pre-gaming at my Aunt Lisa’s house. She’s been letting me crash there and is cool with me hosting this weekend.” He looked at Eliott. “Do you want to go shopping with me Saturday morning? I need new kicks.” Lucas looked down at his shoes, which still looked pretty new. “Lance says I need to get the latest season.”

“I thought you didn’t care about shit like that?” Eliott asked. 

“I don’t,” Lucas admitted. “But Lance does.” Lucas shrugged as if it were nothing to change his whole personality for a stupid jock. “Are you gonna ask Lucille to the prom?” “I don’t know,” Eliott answered. Sofiane raised an eyebrow. “Or, what about Jadon. Didn’t you have a crush on Jadon?” Lucas asked. Eliott moaned. “That was three years ago, Lucas.” “Lance knows him.” “Lance knows him,” Eliott said in a sing-song mocking voice. “What? Are they in the Rainbow Illuminati or something?” Idriss and Sofiane chuckled. Lucas smirked, then squinted his eyes at Eliott. “Why are you acting so weird? Anyway, come shopping with me. I can talk to Jadon for you.” “I don’t need you to play matchmaker for me, Lucas.” Lucas ignored him. “Idriss, are you taking Ingrid?” Idriss frowned, “I’m not sure.” “She and Imane getting along, yet?” “Are you the school Gazette now?”  Eliott interrupted him. Imane was Idriss’s younger sister and Sofiane’s girlfriend. He knew it was a sore spot for both of them, and he didn’t want Lucas to ruin the delicate peace they had brokered when it came to the subject. 

“No,” Lucas said, rolling his eyes. “Lance says I should care about all this stuff - know names, who’s dating who, buy people small things...shit like that. He wants to win prom king and king. They’re letting juniors and seniors go this year and it’s open voting for both levels, so he wants to be the first gay couple in Davis history to win.”

“He just wants it for the fame...not to make a real difference,” Eliott grumbled.

“I think you have him all wrong, but either way, it does make a difference. Some kid in Iowa sees us in an article and he feels a little less scared, a little more hopeful...a little braver.”

“Lucas, he used to bully you in grade school. He gave you a black eye in sixth grade. Did you get fucking amnesia before or after he got you off?”

“Hey dude, too far,” Idriss said.

Eliott knew before all the words were out of his mouth that he had gone too far. He hated seeing the pained look on Lucas’s face, hated himself for being the one to put it there, but couldn’t stop spewing negativity. Eliott stood up, felt like he was having an out of body experience. “Did he tell you that he had a crush on you way back then, but all he could do was punch your face in because he didn’t know how else to deal with his wittle gay emotions?” “You’re being a jerk,” Lucas said quietly. “That was years ago, and he did apologize for it.” Eliott had to get out of there before he said something he couldn’t walk back. “I have to go. See you guys later.”  As he was leaving, he heard Lucas ask Idriss and Sofiane what was going on with him. He knew they wouldn’t reveal his secret. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but his hands were shaking and he felt his eyes prick with angry tears. Something had shifted inside him after seeing Lucas and Lance kissing that morning behind the cafeteria. He needed to clear his mind and decided then and there that he was skipping gym class; thankfully, it wasn’t considered a class he needed for graduation. *** Eliott’s phone buzzed. He looked down to see a name that made the butterflies take flight. It had been a couple of days since his tantrum. He could admit to himself that he had acted childishly.  Lucas knew him well, knew he needed a couple of days to cool off.

“Please help me!” Lucas pleaded. “Manon was supposed to help me pick out an outfit and new sneakers, but something came up with Charles, and she’s standing me up.” “Lucas...I really don’t want to go.” “Hedgehogs and Raccoons,” Lucas said.

Eliott groaned; he could almost see Lucas’s smug little smile through the phone. “You’re using one of your favors. It’s only April, you have so many months to go little grasshopper.”

It was their inside joke, but they could only use the phrase three times a year. The other person had to drop everything they were doing and help the other if they invoked it. Lucas had used it quite a bit when he was younger and needed help at home or with the kids who relentlessly bullied him. Eliott had used it quite a bit when he was younger and the depression hit him like a stone to the head, and cuddling with Lucas was the only thing that kept him sane. Lucas once told him that he never needed to use it for that reason, but he still had, although he hadn’t used it in the last couple of years.

An hour later and he was honking the horn of his beat up Camaro outside of Lucas’s Aunt Lisa’s house. She came out to greet and hug him, her long, brown hair smelling faintly of lemon and something metallic. He knew she made her own shampoos and lotions and often smelled of the forest or fruit; it was one of the things he loved about her. He also liked her because she was sarcastic and irreverent, and didn’t care for Lance too much, as she also remembered how much he had tormented Lucas as a kid.  She was also one of Lucas’s biggest supporters.

Lucas kissed his aunt as he opened the passenger side door to get in. He told her to watch the wings he had put in the oven for the party. She nodded and waved them off. 

They spent an hour at the mall, and for a minute, Eliott forgot about everything that had been bothering him. They hung out and joked like they had done years before when it had been just the two of them, before he had met Idriss and Sofiane in high school when Lucas still had a year left of middle school.

“Remember the pizza place that used to be here when we were kids?” he asked Lucas. The place was now some kind of beauty spa.

“Oh, yea...we used to steal all the free pizza coupons from Mr. Ginley’s desk. You know I never got sick of that pizza.”

“It was pretty disgusting, though,” Eliott said, remembering how they always sat in the corner booth near the soda fountain, heads down and touching, pouring over the latest comic book together. “Only after having better,” Lucas admitted. Lucas’s blue eyes were bright as if he too were fondly remembering those times so long ago.

Lucas finally found an outfit and sneakers he thought Lance would approve of and they headed back to get ready for the party.  When they arrived, a couple of their friends from school were playing video games in the living room. Lisa had placed the wings, chips, and dip on the table.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said.

“That leaves a lot that could land us in jail,” Lucas joked.

“Ok, smartass, just don’t burn the place down. I’ll be back in a few hours. Make sure you lock up when you leave to go to Lance’s.” She rolled her eyes at the name, making sure that Eliott saw it but not Lucas. He chuckled as she kissed them both on the cheek before heading out for the night.

Their friends waved them over, but Lucas picked up the bag letting them know he would be out after changing.  He told them to host and answer the door until he returned. He grabbed Eliott’s arm and pulled him to the back of the house where his small bedroom was located.

Eliott sat on the bed as Lucas changed clothes. He averted his eyes but stole glances at him when he thought Lucas wasn’t paying attention. He loved everything about him: the small moles like mini constellations that dotted his lithe body, the light freckles on his nose that were only visible when summer came around, the way his smile lit up a room. 

Lucas finally finished dressing and sat on the bed next to him, his arm brushed Eliott’s own. The touch gave him goosebumps, made him catch his breath.  Spending time with Lucas at the mall and recalling how close they had been when they were younger had made him remember all the times Lucas had been there for him, had been his confidante and saving grace. He barely registered Lucas asking him if he liked the outfit. He only saw Lucas’s mouth and those ocean-blue eyes before he leaned over and kissed him, pulling Lucas’s pliant lips into his mouth. He kissed him, and the years of pining turned into a hungry need to fill himself up with the taste of the boy he had loved for so long. Lucas stilled at first and then began kissing him back before a door slam broke them apart.

They realized it had been Lucas’s door, which had not been closed all the way shut.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Lucas said as he raced out the room.

Eliott was stunned. He didn’t know why he had chosen that time to suddenly make a bold move, but he had no regrets. He would let the chips fall where they would.

A few minutes later and he heard Lance in the living room and then Lucas frantically whispering as their voices neared the room. 

Lance burst through the door. He was wearing his Letterman jacket and a white t-shirt with dark blue jeans. His ash blonde hair was messier than usual, as though he had just roughly ran his hands through it.  His green eyes blazed with anger as they locked with Eliott’s blue ones. Eliott stood, not wanting to meet the bigger boy’s wrath in such an unfavorable position. They were both tall and slim, both about six feet in height, but Lance was wider in the shoulders, had packed more muscle onto his slim frame.

“Did you kiss him, Lucas? Did you kiss him? Marcus told me he was coming to ask you about the beer and saw you two kissing.” He was yelling at Lucas, and Eliott instinctively wanted to protect him. Lance hadn’t been known to punch anyone since middle school, but he wasn’t taking any chances and jumped in between the two of them.

“It was my fault, Lance,” he admitted trying to direct the larger boy’s anger toward him. It worked because Lance turned to face him, their faces mere inches apart. “Lucas didn’t kiss me back,” he lied.

“I never trusted you, never liked you, even though Idriss always vouched for you.” Before Eliott could respond, he felt something land heavily against his face. It had happened so fast. One minute they had been facing each other and the next minute, he was on the floor with Lucas leaning over him, calling his name. 

He was dizzy. He touched his face and felt something wet. He looked down and saw blood on his hands. He looked up to see Lance head out of the door followed by Lucas. Everything was muffled, and there was ringing in his ears. Lucas turned to face him and mouthed for him to stay there.

As soon as they left the room, Eliott pulled himself from the floor and left out the window.

*** When he finally made it home, he rinsed his face and stopped the bleeding. He made an ice pack to hold against his nose. It wasn’t broken, or at least he didn’t think it was broken, but judging by the way it throbbed, it would be swollen and bruised for weeks.

Lucas, Idriss, and Sofiane tried to call him several times, but he ignored the buzzing. They started texting him, but he ignored the pings, finally cutting his phone off and crawling into the bed to nurse his wounds, both emotional and physical. Lucas had left him bleeding on the floor. He had chased after Lance. Eliott knew he had been wrong for kissing him. He should have just told him how he had been feeling, but he had been scared. He was scared that Lucas would reject him because he was only able to see him as a good friend. Or worse, that he wouldn’t reject him, and that a toxic romantic relationship would ruin their perfectly good platonic one. He jumped when he heard a knock on his window.

“Let me in, idiot!” He heard Lucas’s voice and stood up to peer out the window near his bed. He opened the screen to let Lucas in. Lucas threw a bag of something inside before heaving his body over the frame and onto the bed.

“I brought your favorite snacks and some pain meds.”

Eliott reached over to click on the lamp next to his bed. The light was dim leaving most of the room in shadows.

“Are you alright?” Lucas asked. He gently touched Eliott’s face, turning it towards him so he could study Eliott’s nose. “Ok, put the ice back on it. I’ve seen worse...on myself.”   Lucas paused. “Sorry I didn't listen to you. Guess a tiger doesn’t change his stripes. He is still a bully.” “I would’ve punched me, too,” Eliott admitted. He couldn’t believe he was actually defending Lance. “You know...if I were some cowardly jerk who kissed you while we were dating.”

Lucas laughed, “Oh, really?” He placed his hand on Eliott’s leg. “You’re not a coward.”

Eliott huffed. “But I am a jerk?”

“Hell, yes. Why did you leave? I was going to grab the first aid kit and tell everyone to leave. I punched Lance and kicked everyone out, and when I returned, you’d ghosted me.”

“You punched Lance?”

“Don’t sound so shocked...Well, I attempted to, but he blocked it pretty effortlessly,” Lucas chuckled. “I did tear his precious Letterman jacket. I think he was more pissed about that than the fact that we had kissed. Ugh, and that fucking Marcus.”

“Fucking Marcus,” Eliott agreed.

“You know Lance had the nerve to call me and tell me he’s taking Jadon to the prom. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”   

“I’m sorry. He was rightfully hurt. You probably did break his wittle heart.” “Shut up.” 

They both sat in silence for a minute, Eliott holding the bag of melting ice on his lap while Lucas opened the bottle of Tylenol and gave him a couple of tablets to take along with a bottle of water. 

“You know you always protected me when we were little...seems like you’re still doing it. If I never told you before, thank you...for everything.”

“You’ve always been there for me, too. I went through some pretty dark times when I was younger. I don’t think I would even be here if it weren’t for you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

He studied Lucas as he looked up at the ceiling. There were a few neon green stars still there, evidence of the time when he and Lucas had stuck three bagfuls of glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling because Lucas had been afraid of the dark when he slept over as a kid. 

“I didn’t know.” Lucas finally said after more quiet minutes had passed.

“Really?” Eliott asked. “We’ve always been affectionate...close. You’re my best friend, but I thought you saw me as a little brother even though we’re not that far apart in age.  You were always so much bigger and cooler.”

“Me, cooler?” Eliott huffed out a laugh. “Maybe I saw you like that when we were little kids, but I think something changed around middle school. By the time I came to terms about how I really felt about you, I decided I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“I don’t want to mess that up, either,” Lucas said quietly. “But we have a problem.”

“What’s that?” Eliott asked.

“I can’t get that kiss out of my head.”

Lucas took the bag of melting ice from Eliott’s hand and placed it on the window sill. He gently grabbed Eliott’s face, first softly kissing the bruised flesh of his nose and then his mouth. Eliott closed his eyes, relishing the moment he had dreamed about for so long. Lucas stilled, which made Eliott open his eyes. They stared at each other, each breathing in the other’s breath, their heads touching.  Lucas kissed him again, first softly and then with more pressure. Eliott returned the kiss, opened his mouth to Lucas’s tongue, tasted his mouth with his own. Lucas groaned, which caused Eliott to deepen the kiss even more. He felt as if he were being consumed from the inside out.  He felt like he would never be able to get enough of Lucas -- of his mouth, his hands, his friendship, his heart.

“Hedgehogs and raccoons,” Lucas whispered into his mouth.

Eliott pulled back, stared intently into the eyes that he knew by heart. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Just you,” Lucas answered. “Just you.”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

I See You: Part Five

A/N: As you get ready to hear what Billy has to say, both of you go through some of the last conversations you had. *this one contains a prompt from @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s “10 Marvelous Things I Hate About You” challenge. Prompt is highlighted*

Warning: Language, violence, tiny bit of lemon zest. 

Word Count: 3,920

Crimson leaves fluttered and fell from the sugar maples that lined your street, the sun shining through them like stained glass before they touched down on the cobbled sidewalk. The crisp September air made you shrug a little more deeply into the thick cable knit scarf that Lexi had given you for your birthday- along with a bottle of vodka that she’d helped you finish- but the below average chill did nothing to douse your spirits. You paused to lean down and tie the laces on your boots, adjusting your phone between your ear and shoulder so you could carry on your conversation without interruption.

“Can’t you send me somthin’ romantic next time? Why’s it always gotta be these deep, dark, melodramas?”

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see as you finished with your laces and straightened up, taking your phone back into your gloved hand. “Because, Russo, you asked me to help make you seem cultured, not cliche. If all you want is some lukewarm, watered down garbage, just quote Romeo and Juliet at her. Chicks dig that bullshit.” You could picture him biting his lower lip to keep from laughing, that devilish look in those coal black eyes that you’d seen the first night you’d met. “But if you really want to impress a woman, you’ll show her your mind, Billy. So I’m sending you stuff that will make you use it.” You grinned preemptively, running your tongue along your top lip as you prepared to deliver your next line. “You’re the one actually choosing to read what I send you, ya know?”

There was a part of you, although you were perfectly content to keep Billy as a friend, that secretly hoped that he was reading all the books you sent him because it was you that he was trying to impress. You knew there were plenty of fly by night floozies and paper doll cut outs to occupy his empty hours, and that didn’t bother you. You knew he didn’t feel anything for them, knew he was only trying to keep an acceptable amount of booty calls on rotation by keeping them interested enough to put up with the extreme lack of commitment that Billy put into any of his “romantic” endeavors. But you’d be completely lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t at least thought about what it might be like to have something more than friendship with him. You reached the end of the block and stopped with a small group of pedestrians waiting for the signal to change.

“Yeah, yeah, you got me there,” you heard him expel a burst of air through his nose in a snarky, one-of-a-kind Billy Russo laugh. “Just sayin’, it’d be nice if you sent me somthin’ less...I dunno, serious?”

You mentally ran through the last few books you’d sent him- Wuthering Heights,  Frankenstein, and the one sitting on your kitchen counter, boxed up and ready to send to his next deployment in Kandahar, The Picture of Dorian Gray. Shit, he’s got a point. “What have you got in mind then? Any of these girls you see recommend any great works of fiction?” The light changed and the group of people around you started to move forward into the crosswalk on Charles Street. “You want me to send you one of those trashy romance novels with Fabio on the cover?” An older woman a few feet to your left caught your question and made a face, and you looked down to see a book sticking up out of her bag. swirling violet lettering reading Ravaged and the unmistakable luscious hair of the model you’d just mentioned in jest were just visible and it was clear from her scowl that she didn’t appreciate you deeming her literature of choice as “trashy”. You mouthed a “sorry” and shrugged at the disgruntled woman and choked back the giggles that were desperate to burst forth.

“The last one... Ashley?”

You pulled the phone away from your ear and rolled your whole head with a dramatic groan.Of course he doesn’t remember her name. Her bra size though, bet he remembers that. “Allison, Russo, her name is Allison. C’mon write ‘em down if they’re so hard to keep track of. Or, and stay with me here, ‘cause this one’s a doozy...you could actually get serious with one of them. Cut down the list of names you have to know.” You know my name, Billy.

“Right. Allison.” He ignored everything else you’d said and you wondered if he ignored Frank when he gave the same advice. “She suggested Hemingway, said he was-”

“Romantic? Hemingway? He was an abusive, alcoholic misogynist who squandered half of his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers. Sounds like Allison knows about as much as you regarding the classics. You two are made for each other.”

Again he ignored the relationship advice. “Hey, Picasso probably had some good leftovers.” You heard a zipper being pulled closed and the soft thud of his fist hitting the full duffle like a punching bag. He’s all packed up, I probably only have a few more minutes…

“Billy,” your tone shifted as you came to another corner, turning right down Mt. Vernon Street, lined with beautiful red brick buildings, bright shiny front doors, and carriage style lanterns. It wasn’t as busy; there weren’t as many shops and cafes as there were on Charles Street, so there wasn’t as much foot traffic. You took advantage of the less crowded sidewalk to stop and lean against a concrete stair rail to finish your conversation. “You know you deserve more than leftovers…” Over the years you’d lost count of how many times you’d tried to convince him that he deserved much more than what he allowed himself to have.

There was a pause on the other end of the line and you dared to hope that he was thinking about what you’d said- that maybe the ten thousandth time would be the charm. But before that hope could swell too much, he poked a hole in it with his response. “I dunno, cold pizza makes for a pretty good breakfast.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to keep your mind from shuffling through millions of moments before it reached the one and only time that Billy Russo had spent the night at your apartment, and the pizza that you’d shared both for dinner and as your first meal the following morning. You recalled walking out into your living room to see him sprawled on your couch, one long leg hanging down onto the floor, one muscled arm bent and thrown across his face. The soft pewter blanket that you’d given him was tucked up beneath his chin, his dark hair spread out over the white couch cushions. You remembered how peaceful he looked then, and how your heart had turned to cement and dropped through your ribs, wishing that you could flop down onto the couch with him. You’d wished that you could climb beneath the blanket and waste the morning in his arms, showing him what it felt like to be with someone who cared for him. You opened your eyes and you were back on Mt. Vernon Street, a maple leaf caught in your scarf. Plucking it out you realized that a good 6 seconds of silence had passed, and Billy was repeating your name.

“You still there? This fuckin’ service…” his voice sounded distant as he pulled the phone away from his ear to check if he’d lost the connection. “Keeps dropping out, you there?”

“Yeah, sorry, Billy, I’m here.” You cleared your throat. “Breakfast pizza. Right.” The leaf fell from your fingers as you tried to recover quickly. “Just saying, pancakes and eggs and bacon makes for a pretty good breakfast, too, Russo.” You deserve more than stale pizza crust.  

“You’n Frankie, I swear you’re tryin’ to turn me into some soft, domestic type.”

The laugh that slipped out wasn’t forced or faked at all, and you were glad that the awkward moment was over. “That what you think of Frank? He’s a softie?”

Then it was Billy’s turn to chuckle. “Hell no, not Frankie. Toughest son of a bitch I ever met.”

“Besides yourself,” you stood up straight, taking a step away from the railing that you’d been leaning against, and resumed walking.

“Besides myself, that’s right.” He repeated, and you could hear the grin you imagined he was wearing. You heard rustling on his end and knew he was shouldering his overstuffed duffle, and then another few seconds of silence. You knew he was heading out the door, knew he only had a minute or two more before he had to leave or else he’d be late, which was completely unacceptable. But you also knew that he hated ending the conversation, so you knew you would have to do it for him.

“You all set over there, Marine? Headin’ out?” You knew you had no right to feel the tightness in your chest that you felt, knew that you were already missing him, missing his voice more than you should, but there really wasn’t much you could do.

“Yeah, just about,” he’d answered quickly , and you knew he was grateful.

“Alright then, Russo, you take care of yourself, you tough son of a bitch.” Stay safe, Billy. Stay safe, come home.  

He laughed. “I will, always do.” You heard his front door open, heard the jingling of keys in his hand as he pulled it closed to lock it up. “Lookin’ forward to your next terrible book recommendation.”

“Ha. You know, one of these days I am gonna send you a flouncy Fabio novel, and then we’ll see who’s laughing.” You suddenly felt the chill that had been in the air the whole time, as though talking to Billy had kept it at bay, and now that the conversation was ending, it was back. You sniffed, rubbing your nose with one hand. “I’ll talk to you soon, Billy.” You had a rule, when either of you left on a deployment, and that was that you didn’t end a call with “goodbye”, both of you hating the way it sounded. When you were both stateside and as safe as any civilian was, “goodbye” wasn’t a problem. It was a different story when gunfire and bombs were involved, when there were rockets digging craters and IEDs buried in the sand, or submarines gliding below the deep blue depths, threatening your aircraft carrier with silent missiles.

“Talk to you soon,” he answered, and you knew that as soon as he could, as soon as he was settled and had a free moment and an internet connection, he’d fire off an email to you. He hung up then, because if he didn’t the call would never end, and you knew it, too. You took a deep breath of autumn air, and pocketed your phone. I’ll miss you, Billy Russo.

That had been one of the last real conversations you’d had with Billy… with the Billy that you knew. The last deployment had changed him, had been harder, different from the rest. His emails were short and lacked the sarcasm you’d come to expect. The few times he’d been able to call you he’d sounded deflated, exhausted, and not just physically. As you led him to the park in silence under the city lights, you wondered how those changes had affected the man you’d come to love. You’re still in there, Billy, I know you are...

.  . .  . . .  .

Billy had spent his entire shift shuffling through every conversation he’d ever had with you; every laugh he’d caught through the phone line, every picture you’d sent while at sea, every single time he’d thought about you since he’d deleted your number. He’d smirked at the security camera on his way to the time clock, knowing that Frank had access to it, making sure he showed up when and where he was supposed to. But where normally he’d spend the night mopping bathrooms and banks, seething about what Frank and Lieberman had reduced him to, tonight he’d been consumed with you. What to tell you, what not to say, what to ask and not to ask… wondering if it could possibly ever go back to the way it was, if you could ever possibly forgive him… if he even deserved your forgiveness. A vivid memory took hold as he dumped the mop bucket and finished up at his final location for the evening.

Billy’s breath was hot as he lowered his mouth to one thigh. His lips and tongue and teeth trailed towards his destination as his hands found the soft flesh of the ass that had been driving him crazy all night. A few strands of hair fell out of place as he looked up, dark eyes on fire, to enjoy the view before him. His vision was blurred from the bourbon, but his hearing worked just fine. He grinned as he flicked his tongue against the slick heat at the apex of the legs his head was lost between, the soft moan of his name urging him on. “Billy… oh, fuck…”

His eyes rolled back as that bimbo’s voice was replaced with yours in his mind, and he increased the pressure he applied with his tongue. Ashley? Allison? Fuck it doesn’t matter… she had her hands in his hair, holding him in place, and he groaned, imagining your fingers gripping and tugging instead. He slipped his tongue into her, dreaming of what you would taste like, and the thought alone sent him for a spin. Finally, completely spellbound by his secret desires, he turned to kiss her thigh, but it was your name that fell from his lips. And it wasn’t the first time, either.

She stiffened, instantly pushing away from him and sat up, a look of pure disgust etched into her carefully painted on face. “Are you fucking kidding me, Billy? Fucking again?” She pulled her legs back from over his shoulders and stood from the bed, scoffing as she tossed her long blonde hair and shook her head. She bent down to retrieve her discarded clothing and started getting dressed.

Billy just sat up, a complete lack of guilt, embarrassment or whatever Allison thought he should be feeling clear in his eyes. He shrugged and shifted so that he was leaning against the headboard, reaching for the phone on his bedside table. I could call her… tell her I’m back…

He’d called you as soon as he’d had his boots back on U.S. soil, but he hadn’t told you that he was back. “Gettin’ out of this hell hole in two weeks,” he’d said while he drank a coffee in his kitchen. “Can’t wait to get the fuck out.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lied through his teeth. Fuck, this is hard. He’d always been able to bend the truth to suit his needs before, but not with you, and he felt his stomach turn.

“Two more weeks? That’s not bad, Marine. You and Frank taking care of each other?” He heard the tingling sound of a spoon clattering into the sink and guessed that you’d just made yourself a coffee, too.

Billy set his mug down and rested his forehead in his hand, raking it back through his hair. His mind immediately went to that night, in that tent, after that mission had lead them straight into that ambush resulting in the greatest loss to their unit that they’d ever suffered.

“Did you complete the mission?” Rawlins barked the question repeatedly, even while his men bled and suffered- the ones that had made it back, anyway. His clean white shirt and well rested mind didn’t belong in that tent. Covered in blood, some of it his own but most of it Frank’s, Billy sat in silence. Wringing his hands, a dull hum drowning out the noise, he considered things he never thought he would- he considered a transfer to a different unit, considered leaving the military completely. This shit… its all wrong… this isn’t right, not what I signed up for… The abrupt sound of a metal folding chair crashing to the ground as Frank, still bleeding from a gunshot wound, launched himself at Rawlins out of rage as the entitled asshole asked his question again broke him from his thoughts. Aw shit, Frankie. In two strides Billy crossed to where Frank had just landed a brutal punch that punctured the man’s eye socket. He’s gonna fuckin kill ‘em. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and hauled him into the next room, tossing him through the door.

“You’re gonna fuckin protect him, Bill?!” Frank’s voice was uneven, his eyes flashing. “Sends us into a goddamn ambush when we told him, I told him and you’re takin’ his side?!”

“I’m protecting you Frank. This is never gonna be on him. We’re here to take the fall, Frankie, not Rawlins… and I’m done. I’m out… and you should think about it too.” He left Frank gaping like a big mouth bass, needing to be anywhere but in the room with the words he’d just said aloud.

“Yeah,” he answered your question. “Yeah Frankie’n me got each other’s backs, like always.”

He heard you swallow on the other end of the line before you spoke. “Hey, you okay Billy? Something you’re not telling me?” Shit, she’s too good at this… at knowin me…

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. It’s just…” he rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye. “Things are different this time… just… lookin forward to gettin out, ya know?”

“Okay, well… just keep your head up, Russo. Two more weeks until beers and burgers.” His chest tightened as you tried to reassure him, tried to give him some tiny spark to get him through. I don’t deserve her… she’s … this is why I have to do this, cut her out… she’s too good for my bullshit… “Hey what’d you think of the book I sent?”

“Think it was perfect for me,” he answered, staring out his window at the gray New York City morning.

You’d laughed, and his chest tightened another notch. “It’s about a man who sold his soul to the devil, Billy. You may be dark and mysterious but you’re not the devil.”

Least I got to hear that laugh again. “If you insist… but I did like it… I highlighted a line for you. You’re always highlighting things for me so I did one this time…” the last time.

Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic. That was the line that he’d selected, the line he hoped would help you understand; understand that he had made his choice, and that he couldn’t take you with him.

He shook his head, enraged shouts pulling him away from the memory of your last phone call, just a few days before. Allison was still berating him for being a womanizer and an asshole, for using her for sex- I use you because you make it too easy. Yeah, I’m an asshole, everyone knows that, what’s your goddamn point?- but he didn’t care, just scrolled through his phone until he found the photo he’d been looking for, the one from the night that he met you.

The fact that your roommate was perched in his lap barely registered when he looked at it. He didn’t even see Frank anymore. All he saw was the frozen laughter on your face, the happiness captured that night that felt worlds away now, even as he sat in the same city that the photo had been taken in. He used two fingers to zoom in until only you were visible in the frame of the picture. I really fucked up… He never told you, but that picture kept him going on some of the worst days; reminded him that there was at least one person who gave a shit about him, one person that believed in him...one person that saw him for who he really was and kept him in their life anyway, asking for nothing but the same in return. Allison was shrieking his name, trying to get him to pay attention to her as she made a show of gearing up to storm out. Billy zoomed back out on the photo before he pressed delete, erasing your number while he was at it so he couldn’t make any more mistakes with you.

“...knew you were fucked up, Billy, but Jesus. You want to fuck her that bad, go the fuck ahead, see if I care. Then she can feel like shit, too when you forget her name... ”

Rage bubbled up at the thought that he could ever forget you, at the idea that she meant anything to him, anything close to what you meant. He stood, tossing his phone on the bed and advanced on Allison, fists curled at his sides. She took a step back, bottom lip quivering but eyes locked on his. “Don’t you fucking talk about her. You don’t get to say anything about her, you hear me?” His nostrils flared and his eyes flashed. “You mean nothing to me, sweetheart. You’re nothin’ but a nice ass in a tight dress and that’s all you’ll ever be, and ya know somethin’ else? I don’t think this,” he gestured between her and himself demonstratively with his pointer finger, “is gonna work out anymore. Get the fuck out.”

She opened her mouth to unleash more insults, but Billy just gave her a look that shut her up once and for all. “I said get the fuck outta my place.” He growled, and she turned, walking quickly towards the front door, slamming it behind her.  Good. She’s gone. She’d never be you, and he knew that. None of the women he fucked would ever be you. I don’t deserve her… she deserves better than me...better than the bullshit I’m involved in… It sliced at his heart like shards of glass, cutting you from his life so finally, but you’d been the only one who mattered, and he wouldn’t allow you to become a target. Attachments are weaknesses…

He reached your apartment at 9:30 on the dot, and you’d been waiting like you said you would be. “Let’s take a walk,” you’d suggested, leading him down the block with the use of a long cane that you held out in front of you. His heart hammered and his mouth ran drier with every single silent step, as he prepared himself to tell you everything- everything he’d done, every choice he’d made, everything done to him and why he had to let you go. The curved wrought iron fence surrounding the small patch of green that New Yorkers called “parks” came into view, and you walked through it to a bench near a fountain. You took a seat and released a shaky sigh, and it hit him how hard you were trying to keep it together. You took your dark glasses off, folding them and setting them in your lap before turning your face up to his. Your eyes, once bright blue and always shining, we’re now a frosty, icy color, some light scarring around the edges of the right one, and his fingers twitched, aching to reach out to you. “Take a seat, Billy,” you softly requested, patting the bench beside you. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

@something-tofightfor @my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @agent-bossypants @zaffrenotes @songforhema @thesumofmychoices @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @ethereal-heavcns @ymariejp

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed! 

[artificialqueens]

Laws of Motion / Chapter 5 (Trixya) - DenDenMonMon

Chapter Summary: Trixie had never even tried to explore her sexuality in that way. She had always assumed she was straight, because that’s what she was taught to be. As far as she knew she liked men, and men liked her. It had been like that during her entire life. The thought of maybe being attracted to another girl never did as much as cross her mind. If she had known that having sex with a woman was such a journey, she may had tried it before. Although, she wondered if that sexy roller coaster of sensations was caused by Katya and Katya alone.

AO3 Link

Chapter 5 - Yellow.

“Are you completely sure?” Sergeant Haylock’s doubtful voice traveled through the speaker of the phone, perched on top of a pile of boxes.

“One million percent,” Katya assured him, her words sounding shaky to her own ears. It was infuriating how she couldn’t even trust her own voice. She hoped it didn’t give away how nervous she was, because she was nervous, anxious, excited, but, above everything, she was sure. That was the message she needed to deliver.

It seemed to work, because the sergeant didn’t ask any further. “Okay. I’ll send the team. Captain Charles is getting the warrant. I really hope you are right, Zamo, or you will be in some deep shit. I’ll meet you at the precinct as soon as we are done.”

Trixie watched as Katya paced the small space of the cold cases room, her fingers tangling in the hair at the top of her head, pulling at the blonde curls absentmindedly. The slight tugging of her scalp seemed to provide some sort of stress relief, one that sucked her into an evident trance. She wouldn’t even look up. Her mind was deep in thought.

“We are already here!” Trixie replied for her, loud enough so the sergeant could hear her.

Roy sighed. “Alright, alright. We are on the move. Get everything ready for interrogation; we will get there as soon as the judge approves the arrest. You are waking up half of LA because of this, my husband is already pissed, so this better be good.”

The line went silent after that, indicating that the call had ended. Trixie watched the light dim and then completely disappear as the phone locked itself. There was nothing left to do but wait.

Katya was still walking rapidly from side to side, her fingers were still pulling her hair, her stare was still glued to the floor. Her anxious state manifested itself in the complete opposite way from Trixie’s. She sat on the folding bed, her legs crossed in a miserable attempt of a lotus position. She was picking at the skin of her fingers, painfully pulling at thick hangnails. A part of Trixie knew she was shutting down, but the energy that Katya had bouncing all around them kept her alert, preventing her from spiraling herself, if only for the sake of keeping an eye on her partner.

Suddenly, a thought hit her. “Did Roy say husband?” Trixie asked in surprise.

Katya didn’t stop pacing, but she did look at Trixie. “What? Oh. Yeah. You didn’t know he was married?”

“I didn’t know he was gay.” Trixie’s voice came out steady, with no harm or judgement in it, simply stating the fact.

As Katya looked at her with her mouth slightly opened, asking her if she was kidding, Trixie analyzed the little information she had on her sergeant. Her mind took her back to pay extra attention to the conversations they had shared. Laughter was a constant and insulting words being thrown at each other, with no harm whatsoever, was another. The topic of significant others had never been brought up, and she hadn’t asked. She had spent so much time engrossed in the case that she never really stopped to get to know her coworkers. Except for her own partner, probably, who was such a character by herself that Trixie had no room in her mind to solve both the case and the mystery of Katya.

“This is the most open-minded precinct in herstory; and we are super proud of it.” Katya’s words made Trixie return her attention to her. “You know I’m your everyday run-of-the-mill bisexual hooker,” she said as her hands pointed at herself in demostration. “Violet is a big fat lesbian. I mean, not fat, you could never have Violet’s name and the word fat in the same sentence. You get what I mean. Jasmine, she just likes people; she sees hearts not genitals. Kasha was married to a guy for years, now she’s married to a pretty nice woman who adores her.” She made a pause, her mind not having the energy to go through all the people that worked with them. “Well, you know about Roy now and Captain Charles is also married.”

“I did know that,” Trixie intervened. “I know he’s gone through a lot.”

RuPaul Charles was a renowned name in the field, his life story was well known and his reputation was highly respected. He was one of the first gay cops to successed back in the nineties. He wasn’t just opened about his sexuality, he embraced it and took the chance to inspire other law enforcers to do the same. He worked hard and climbed the ladder, despite all the struggles that a gay man of color was unnecessarily put through.

Katya agreed with Trixie. “He has! And he wants that to change, make a difference so other people can have an easier path. There’s, you know, that youth program he has for baby gays. I know he had, like, umm, kind of AA meetings for gay people within the police department. He’s doing great so far. He’s very smart and knows how to use the rainbow flag to help others. You know why we have some of the highest numbers in the whole state?”

Trixie didn’t know the answer, so she didn’t even try to guess. She shook her head as she stood up, her legs tingled as blood fought to keep on running in the awkward position. Her face contorted as millions of ants figuratively filled her veins at once.

“Lesbians!” Katya said proudly. The sudden clap of her hands made Trixie jump. “Lesbians get shit done.” Her fingers snapped to the rhythm of her words to accentuate them. “That’s why he’s made it his mission to slowly transfer all the queer women in the district into his team.”

Something didn’t quite click, and Trixie was sure it showed in her facial expression. “He wanted to interview me before giving me the job, he said I would fit right in.” She let out almost without realizing, the words leaving her mouth as the thought sunk in for the first time. “Could he have gotten some gay vibes from me?”

“I mean,” Katya said, her hands extended in front of herself and her lips formed a thin line. There was something secretive in her voice. Her tone almost begged Trixie not to force her to actually say the words. “Is he wrong?” The question didn’t give any room for Trixie to reply, it was rhetorical, it verged on sarcastic.

There was a huge chance those accusations were only in Trixie’s mind. She was the one twisting Katya’s words. She was the one that wanted to figure out if the captain was wrong. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t wrong, and the real reason why he hired her was because he knew. He had known her truth even before Trixie knew it herself, before she had even allowed her thoughts to go down that road.

Trixie’s eyes couldn’t focus on anything for more than a second. She shook her head, a fog of realization clouding her every thought. “But, I’m not gay, though.”

She didn’t know if the room was spinning around her, if she was the one spiraling down to the ground, or if Trixie’s brain was making her dizzy beyond belief. Her knees gave out a bit and she planted her palms on the dusty table in front of her.

“Oh, Momma.” Katya spoke from behind her. Her voice was almost condescending, but she wasn’t mocking her. She let the words out in a soft exhale, as if she were talking to a small child. “You don’t have to label yourself.” Her hands landed on Trixie’s shoulders, applying a little pressure as they ran down her arms. “I considered myself heteroflexible for the longest time.”

It was working. Trixie could feel herself landing back into the room, her mind anchoring to the gentle touch of Katya’s warm hands. Hands that were by then circling her waist.

“And, if you need to do some more exploring,” Katya spoke to her ear, hot breath hitting her neck. “You know where to find me.” Katya’s flat hands pushed just below her belly button, right on Trixie’s pelvic area, making her wince. She wondered if Katya’s bones hurt as much as hers, for all the friction from their activities of earlier that night. Trixie was incredibly sore, and she had a lot more flesh in that area than Katya. Involuntarily, her hips pushed back, her ass finding Katya’s crotch, who didn’t even flinch.

A small chuckle left Katya’s mouth, and her smiling lips pressed a kiss to Trixie’s cheek. “You’ll be fine. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

And with that, all contact was gone. Katya turned around and left the room, leaving Trixie alone, slightly turned on and very confused.

Trixie didn’t follow her. The thoughts running in and out of her head wouldn’t allow her brain to connect with the rest of her body. Her feet were heavy, preventing her from walking. She felt hot in the pit of her stomach and between her legs, both providing extremely different sensations, overloading her system, which threatened to crash at any second.

She sat back down on the bed, her head falling to her hands heavily.

Had she been lying to herself?

Did people see things in her that she never spotted herself?

Trixie played with the hem of her dress, the same dress that she had picked to impress Katya. She could admit as much by then, sitting there by herself in Katya’s private space. When she picked her clothes for the night, Trixie hadn’t really thought about it, but it had always been at the back of her mind. As she went through her many dresses, Katya’s possible opinions on the outfit had been the decisive factor.

She knew she liked Katya, she liked her a lot; the actual definition of that feeling was yet to be determined. Still, that didn’t mean she liked all women, just this one. Katya, if anything, was the exception to every rule. She was an enigma, yet an open book to whoever was willing to read. Trixie often felt like she was finally able to capture a page of that book but, just when she got close enough, the information was written in a mysterious language that she couldn’t fully understand. Katya’s complex personality was divided in different volumes. It could be discouraging, Trixie could very easily close the book, place it on the highest shelf, and never look at it again. That wasn’t the case. She was determined to crack the code, to understand the alien language and let the reality of Katya to sink in completely.

Maybe what she had identified as attraction was actually a challenge. It was the need to get closer to that intricate human and understand how someone who was so excited about living life to the fullest could, at the same time, be so filled with anxiety while doing it.

The fact that they had found an amazing sexual synchrony was really nothing more than a coincidence. Yet again, Trixie had nothing to compare it to. She had never even tried to explore her sexuality in that way. She had always assumed she was straight, because that’s what she was taught to be. As far as she knew she liked men, and men liked her. It had been like that during her entire life. The thought of maybe being attracted to another girl never did as much as cross her mind. If she had known that having sex with a woman was such a journey, she may had tried it before. Although, she wondered if that sexy roller coaster of sensations was caused by Katya and Katya alone.

So that was it. Trixie had no issues with her sexuality. She had simply become infatuated with her co-worker because of her bedroom skills. All she needed to do was put some distance between them and the feeling would eventually go away. Trixie could do that easily, not immediately, though; they still needed to work together to close the case, but right after that, things were going to chance. It was settled, she could go back to work without having to worry about that just yet.

Even when Trixie hadn’t asked where the interrogation was going to take place, she knew. She walked straight to the last room on the left, the one with the strongest air conditioner. She entered the side cabin, expecting to find Katya there, waiting for the suspect, but it was empty.

On the other side of the tinted glass, Katya sat on the table, her hands moving around her exaggeratedly.

Smiling at the scene playing in front of her, Trixie pressed a button on the intercom, which allowed her to hear what happened in the interrogation area.

“…gonna kick you right in the pussy,” Katya said in faked anger. “And I’m gonna… I will find your dad. He is going to take a toaster bath and-and perish.” She stood up, her closed hands hitting the table as she leaned closer to the nonexistent criminal. “Ooh, and your mom, she’s gonna go somewhere…” Suddenly, her shoulders dropped, ending her whole intimidating act. “She’s gonna be fine. She’s gonna be on vacation. The Galapagos, maybe.”

Only then did Trixie realize her cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. There was something so interminably endearing about Katya, about the way she carried herself, about her vision of logic.

The little skit had been idiotic, childish even, but so loaded with passion and determination. It was a necessary step in the peculiar thought process that didn’t make sense outside of Katya’s own head. Instead of being annoyed or feeling excluded, as Trixie had felt the couple of weeks she had been working with Katya, she was now happy to at least be able to see the magic happen.

Trixie wanted to jump through the window and give Katya a tight hug. Trixie had never been a hugger, though. Physical contact had been a sensitive subject for her since years ago, yet there she was, wishing she could take Katya in her arms and kiss those silly lips that projected strings of nonsense more often than not.

Her eyes closed as Trixie remembered her resolution from just a few minutes ago. Those thoughts had to stop. At least she was able to identify them now. That was a win. Also, she wasn’t supposed to put her plan into motion until after the case was closed. She still had some time.

The phone vibrated against the metallic table, the buzzing sounded a lot louder inside the quiet room, making Katya jump.

“Jesus Christ!”

She brought a hand to her chest, a fruitless attempt to keep her heart from beating hard against her ribcage. Her other hand picked up the phone, reading the message on the lockscreen and freezing in place. Katya had heard the saying many times, people expressing how their blood went all the way down to their ankles, but she had never experienced the shock herself. It was a cold sensation that ran from the top of her head all the way down to the sole of her feet; and she felt colder and colder with each time she read the same message again.

They had gotten the warrant, the arrest had been done, and they were on their way back to the precinct.

A tap on the glass made Katya look up. She knew Trixie was on the other side, she just knew. She had developed a way to sense when Trixie was near her. That sensation was warm enough to incite her blood to run normally again. It allowed her limbs to function properly and unfreeze her from her spot. Katya made her way to the adjacent room with that thought in her mind. She truly had been lucky to be paired up to work with Trixie. Granted, at thirty-two years old, Katya hadn’t really had all that many partners in her life. She entered the force in her mid-twenties, and other than a short period with Kasha, Katya had always worked with Ginger. Both of her co-workers were incredibly helpful when channeling Katya’s energy and had understood the way her mind worked. They had taken their time to do so. Trixie just got her, right away.

As soon as Katya pushed the door open, Trixie was already by her side.

“How are you? Are you okay?” The sincerity in her eyes made the warm feeling spread across Katya’s chest.

Katya’s foot tapped against the floor, as her arms wrapped around her own torso. “Yeah. I’m just anxious. I can’t screw this up, Trixie. I can’t.”

She wanted to explain all the reasons why this was such a big deal for her. In her mind, she was listing the infinite consequences of taking a wrong turn. Her brain was telling her to yell, from the bottom of her lungs, the importance of making things right. There was no need to. It had been quite sometime since words started to be obsolete, and some sort of telepathic communication was installed between the two of them.

“And you won’t,” Trixie assured her.

Trixie’s hands moved to rest on Katya’s shoulders, the weight forced her arms to untangle and her hands fell to her sides. Trixie’s hands travelled down to hold Katya’s, she gave them a little squeeze with a small smile dancing on her lips.

“Thank you,” Katya said genuinely. She didn’t know why or what she was thanking Trixie for, but she didn’t have to, because the light nod she got in return was all the answer that she needed.

“Of course,” Trixie replied with the shrug of a shoulder. “You’ve got this. Now you only need to get the confession out of this freak. Do you want to keep on practicing? You can tell me where you are planning to send all my family members to.”

Katya burst out laughing, most people would pretend they didn’t overheard a private moment like this one. Not Trixie, though. Quickly, Katya realized it wasn’t a bad thing to share one more aspect of her preparation with Trixie. She liked to believe she was some sort of movie character, intimidating the suspect just by the tone of her voice and, if that wasn’t enough, she had to master some threatening talk. At the end of the day, she knew none of that was going to be needed, because she had the power of the law by her side. All the facts had been aligned for her to see things clearly, there was no doubt in her mind.

That was the reason why, when Manila Luzon was finally brought in for interrogation, in a hideous yellow dress, Katya knew the owner of the sex house had no way out.

Katya walked into the room alone, like they had agreed, like Trixie had insisted. That was Katya’s case, she had worked it for months, and had finally connected all the dots to solve it. Trixie had done nothing but orgasm her into clarity.

Both knew that wasn’t precisely true, Trixie had done a hell of a lot more than that. Nonetheless, the arguments were funny enough to make Katya agree to go by herself. If she struggled with anything, Katya could always flip a pen and Trixie would know she was needed inside. The secret signal was nothing but an emergency exit, one that Trixie knew wasn’t going to be used.

Her heels sounded strong and loud, and Katya already felt so much better as she made her way to Madam Luzon. It was hard to take the lady seriously. With the feathers covering her body and the messed up hair, she looked more like a Sesame Street character than the ruthless dominatrix they knew she was, than the cold blooded killer they knew she was.

A heavy folder was dropped on the table. Right after, Katya, very slowly and very loudly, pulled the metallic chair out to take a seat. She knew the file contained nothing but props and visual aids to help her in the interrogation. All the information of the case, she could recite in all five languages that she spoke, without a problem.

“I knew we would see each other again,” Madam Luzon smiled wickedly. “I told you so.”

Katya placed her elbows on the table. “Yep, yep. You certainly did.”

Without dropping the smile, Manila let herself fall against the back of her chair. “Although, I thought it was a different type of business we would be talking about.”

They studied each other for a second, eyes scanning and minds processing; both asserting the situation from their corners.

“That is fascinating to me.” The words left Katya’s mouth in a genuine tone. She couldn’t comprehend how the woman in front of her, about to be charged for the murder of seven young ladies, could be so cool and collected. “Do you even know why we brought you here?” Katya asked, her chin resting on her fist.

A huff escaped Manila, the yellow feathers on her fascinator dancing with the air of her breath. “Yes, girl, a misunderstanding. I don’t see any other reason.”

Katya opened the file, the image on top was of the first crime scene. She took it out and placed it in front of Manila. “Recognize this girl?” A head shake answered her question, so she pulled the next one. “What about her?” The procedure was repeated until all of the victims, in their perfectly done marionette makeup and their limbs pulled up by strings, were placed on the table. “Are you sure you don’t know any of these girls?”

Manila leaned forward, glancing at the gruesome images without a flinch. “I’m telling you, I have no idea who they are, or… were, rather.”

It was almost laughable. Katya popped her tongue loudly in an attempt to stop the giggle bubbling inside her. “See? That’s where you lose me.” She shook her head in mocked disappointment. “I don’t believe you. You… are telling me… that Madam Manila Luzon, the queen of all things sexy in this town,” Katya said with a shimmy of her shoulders and a smile on her face, still finding the sick humor in the whole situation. “Was clueless about what went on in the streets? Come on. You surely have people everywhere, keeping an eye on the competition.”

Manila didn’t have the same amount of self-control as Katya, she laughed openly and loudly. “They couldn’t beat me even if they’d tried. Seriously, look at them, they are babies. Every now and again a new group of girls comes to town and tries their luck. Those girls don’t know what they have to compete against. I don’t even want to count, but enough years have gone by where I’ve been working in this field, I can tell who is gonna make it and who isn’t.”

“And you recruit only the best, don’t you?”

The question took Manila by surprise. “This has absolutely nothing to do with my team.”

Katya’s index finger pointed straight at Manila’s face. “That’s not true, though. It has everything to do with your, umm, HR department, if we may.” Katya’s hand waved between the two, as it did when she had a hard time finding the right words. “Can I share my theory with you? Ooh, it’s a pretty fun one, you are gonna love it. I’m excited to tell it, can I tell it?”

A twist of Manila’s lips was enough of an authorization to proceed.

“You see, these girls, oh, they were good. They were really good. As I’ve been told, you have a very eccentric set of clients. What happens when those clients find a way to scratch their itch somewhere else?” Katya put her hand up. “Don’t answer that, don’t answer that. I wanna tell you.” She stood up, the back of her legs pushing the chair back, her palms landing flat on the table. “You find these uber talented girls and offer them a spot in your oh-so-prestigious team. Here’s the thing, though.” Her hand fanned on top of the pictures, pointing at the victims. “None of them wanted to work for you, and you are not very fond of rejection, now, are you?”

Manila crossed her arms on top of her chest, creating a physical barrier to protect herself from the accusations. “You have no evidence to connect me to those murders.”

Katya walked around the table, her head held up high, a sensation of victory embracing her body. She dared a glance to the one-sided glass, knowing her team was there watching her, knowing that Trixie was behind that mirror, rooting for her.

“I’ve spent months, months, trying to find The Puppeteer.” Katya placed her hands on the back of Manila’s chair. “That’s your nickname, by the way. It’s a pretty cool one, huh?” She then stretched her back and started walking again. “I just couldn’t understand why a man would do any of that. How could a man have such attention to details? What could be the reason for a guy to turn beautiful young ladies into even more beautiful dolls?”

Words flowed from her lips like cigarette smoke, directed to no one in particular but filling the air around them.

“I just couldn’t understand. Wanna know why?” Once again she shook her hand, indicating she didn’t really need an answer. “Because it wasn’t a man!” Her hands went theatrically up in the air. “And I call myself a supporter of women. They should revoke my feminist license. Women can be murderers too! We have the passion, we have the brains, we have the concentration. Some of us even have real life size doll houses where we can put our puppets in, and play with them when we wish to, even if they don’t want to.” She made a dramatic pause, leaning right in front of Manila’s face. “Because nobody says no to Manila Luzon.”

For a moment, Manila’s eyes looked wider. For a fraction of a second Katya could see how the overly confident Madam Luzon was chipping away. They looked into each other’s eyes. The stare battle was broken when Katya looked down, eyeing the colorful freckles on Manila’s hands.

“If we test the paint on your hands, I’m sure it will be a perfect match to the paint of the victims. Or am I wrong?”

Pushing her chin up, and pressing her lips into a thin line, Manila finally gave up.

“I want a lawyer.”

[justlikeeddie]

black sails fic recs

I have got and continue to get so much enjoyment out of Black Sails and its fandom! It's so nice that this anniversary week of posts has made me realise it is two years since my dash was abruptly filled with people having full breakdowns over the S4 finale, and I was like, “man, I don’t know why this field of corn or whatever is so important, but I guess I should watch this show and find out”. And I did. AND IT WAS.

I don’t know how to make gifsets bcos I am an idiot, but luckily for this fan content Friday thing I CAN post a non-exhaustive list of fics in this fandom that I am absolutely obsessed with. You’re welcome!!!

Unaccommodated Man, The Peaceable Kingdom, and Congress by kvikindi / @septembriseur

James/Thomas, post-series

James looks at him, searching, and Thomas fears he will recognise that Thomas is not really Thomas, not quite Thomas, not the Thomas he had been, and so he says, “I have gone a little mad in this world without you, but now that you are here—” And James makes a sound, a sobbing, laughing sound, and crushes Thomas to him once more.

Like...obvs. This is one of the best series of stories I have read in any fandom, or, actually, that I have read in any context. Both on a macro level - with unbelievable fluency, this series encompasses trauma, recovery, intimacy, forgiveness, literature, the conception of madness, agriculture, 18th-century Native American tribal language, etc, etc - and a micro level, in which not a single word is wasted, and not a single sentence is unworthy of being read three or four times. Anyway. I have re-read all of these stories multiple times and Congress more times than I would admit to if I actually knew.

consider them both, the sea and the land by youremyqueen / @deathnoting

Flint/Silver, post-S3

Flint frowns, stiff and unbending, and leans down just a tad so that he is looking John directly in his eyes. If he’s uncomfortable with their proximity, he doesn’t let it show.

“Remember when you told me,” he grits slowly, each word weighted with emphasis, “that you had discovered the pleasure of being both loved and feared? Is that what you would like from me? It is not enough that you have earned my respect, my friendship. You would now like for me to be frightened of you as well?” His nostrils flare, his rage is quiet. “I am not one of your men.”

John can feel the words on his face and he bears them without flinching, says only, “And I am not one of yours.”

Flint’s brow twitches, and he moves a hair closer, disgustingly close, warm and sour with the smell of whiskey, a solid and immovable blockade between John and what he wants. And he says to him, of all the unbearable things, “Isn’t that exactly what you are?”

THIS IS LITERALLY THE FIC THAT CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT FLINT/SILVER. For like three whole series I just didn’t Get It. And then I read this and was like.....oh.....I Get It. It’s a weapon. Their attraction to each other is a weapon. And sometimes they like using it and sometimes they don’t. And I have never, my friends, looked back

and into what it will be changed by @sea-changed

James/Thomas/Miranda, pre-series

"The Hartfords left for the country last week," Miranda says; "they've merely invited us to view the painting. They cannot resist showing off, even in absentia." She and Thomas share a look, smirking at each other as if sharing an old joke. Then she looks back at James, and her mouth quirks up at him. "So you needn't worry about their judgement."

James considers protesting that that wasn't, exactly, what he was worried about, though upon second thought he wonders if it truly wasn't. "That's very kind," he says, hesitating.

"Is it?" Miranda asks, almost absently. "We do not invite you along as a kindness, Lieutenant; I believe I speak for both Thomas and I when I say we rather enjoy your company."

James feels his face heat, not unpleasantly, and he looks down at the carpet. Miranda is usually soft and kind, but occasionally she does this, speaks plain and pointed. She and Thomas both do this, push and keep pushing: Thomas seems to do so with curiosity, prodding until he finds something interesting, but Miranda does it as if she had already found the spot she wishes to target, and goes after it relentlessly. James thinks suddenly, and unexpectedly, that she would not make a bad Naval commander.

THIS IS LITERALLY THE FIC THAT CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT JAMES/THOMAS/MIRANDA. I used to be weirdly militant in the belief that James’s affairs with the Hamiltons only made sense if they were two separate affairs that didn’t even really overlap. And then I read this and was like....right okay....if they DID have a threesome it would have been like this

There’s Plenty of Men to Die by @autoeuphoric

Flint/Silver, post-S3

The five of them share a glance, passing it around the table, man to man. Flint’s mouth twitches and Madi laughs shortly. “I would wager every man here fancies themselves in charge. This is a meeting of chieftains. I say let it remain so.”

“Although…” Silver says slowly, pulling the others’ attention on to him. Flint’s eyes flick his way, and to his horror he realizes he has nothing else to say. No point, no segue, no plan for a redirection of the conversation. He had simply wanted Flint to look at him. A fierce longing for the days when it was just the two of them fills him, laying their plans together, even though the threat of sudden and nonnegotiable execution was much higher. But he knew where he stood. Here, there are complications. Confusions.

This is just a tiny little snatch of a scene but every beat of it is perfect! Silver navigating his obsession with Flint, in the midst of everybody navigating their new relationships with each other in the new fragile and tentative anti-colonial alliance.

a question of needs (and not rosary beads) by @seventymilestobabylon

James/Thomas, pre-series

Still: James wants to talk. If Thomas means this to be—what it is, what it clearly is, then he should have the fucking decency to say something about it. He also, and intensely, wants the whole business to be transacted without any conversation, but he knows better than to hope for that. Thomas is not capable of it, that implicit understanding. Even when he kissed James—

Thomas’s thumb very light at the hinge of his jaw. He felt a thrill like fear, when it happened.

Even then, Thomas said, “All right?” when it was over, and would have said more, except that James nodded mutely, minutely, and stammered something incoherent that required his presence elsewhere. Thomas and Miranda both looked hideously understanding about it, and James considered—as he walked home through ill-lit streets and inhaled familiar smells of smoke and fish and tar and shit—simply climbing aboard one of the ships in harbor and never returning to London.

This is one of the few pre-series fics I’ve read that really digs into James and Thomas’s incompatibilities and differences and misunderstandings - and sets them against how badly they want each other, and want to understand each other, nonetheless. Don’t get me wrong, obviously 1705 is The Only Time James McGraw Was Ever Allowed To Be Happy (tm), and I’m extremely into reading about him and Thomas making each other happy! But also - it’s so interesting to explore James being so frightened of how he feels about Thomas that he can be unkind to him, and Thomas being so immersed in how he feels about James that he can be complacent and sometimes a little thoughtless about it. And this pulls all of those things apart so well.

you and i survived by youremyqueen / @deathnoting

Anne/Jack, Vane/Jack, pre-series

“She’s not mine. That isn’t—we aren’t—I mean to say, do you actually understand what love is, Captain?”

“Love is possession,” Vane tells him, with his usual unselfconscious melodrama. “Not only of women by men, but of men by women. The point of owning a woman is to see to it that she doesn’t own you.” He speaks as if he’s explaining some very basic and widely known conceit.

Jack winces. “What a viciously horrible perception.”

Vane rolls his eyes. “Christ’s sake. Don’t you ever get tired of acting like a fucking woman?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of acting like a fucking man?”

And couldn’t they unpack that remark for days?

The extremely funny author’s note “if someone had told me two months ago that i would write a fic that featured charles ‘only straight person in nassau’ vane as a main character, i would not have believed them” is also a summary of how I feel about this fic. WHO KNEW that on top of every other fucking thing I have to care about in this fandom, I also care a LOT about Jack and Anne and Charles fuckin Vane! A principled, terrifying, Aslan-transfigured-into-a-human nightmare of a man! This fic is so excellent and does such justice to all of them. Their triumvirate gets kind of supplanted by the Max-Anne-Jack situation from S2 onwards, and I always forget how nuanced and odd and interesting this three-way dynamic is when we first meet them. This story does such a good job at trying to explain what the fuck that dynamic is.

Katabasis by unheroics

James/Thomas, pre-series, canon-divergent AU

There were Flint’s men, one leaving the cabin, another ransacking a chest for treasures, another still turning to speak to Randall; the words exchanged escaped Flint, as all else did, once his gaze fell to the Englishman.

He knelt barefoot on the deck, and wore the undyed, colourless linen of prison or asylum garments. For a precarious second Flint could only think that his hands had had nary a mark upon them, five years ago, and now were as scarred as those of a gamekeeper or veneur. He looked nothing like the man whose presence haunted Flint’s dreams, always at the corner of the vision, always cold to the touch and bleeding from the eyes and mouth.

In all his careful planning, and all his mirthless revenge, Flint had never thought to anticipate a variable in place of a set value. The presence of other men about was like an anchor at his feet, dragging him underwater, but it was Alfred Hamilton’s blood on his hands that kept him immobile.

“Will you kill me?” said Thomas Hamilton, in a voice harsh from paregoric. His tone had a note of morbid, queer hope. “I could pay.”

To spare you, or kill you? It was excruciating to wonder.

One of the very first James/Thomas fics I read! And certainly one of the first fics I read that started to probe and pull apart the McGraw-Flint dichotomy, by literally dropping Thomas right in the middle of it. And while the actual end of S4 is, obviously, the greatest and most narratively and emotionally satisfying thing that has ever happened on television, and you can quote me on that - one thing we do never get in canon is Thomas in Nassau, and I love getting to read that here.

[cowboylovins101]

CHARLES X READ (PART 2)

Ficlet

Warnings: Not SFW

Tags: @morganmarston

Awww thank you I'm glad you like it! If there's one thing I need ya'll to know it's that I'm a huge slut for smut so request's like this? 👌🏽👌🏽👌🏽 Also Charles is one of my main hubbys, so any Charles request is a good one. Talked more with the requester and assessed they wanted this particular installment to be a cisgender female, feel free to send in for a part two with a different gender!!!

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You were giddy, have been for quite a while actually. Your mind wandered to the moonlit kiss you shared with Charles so many nights ago, and smile to yourself. He had wanted to know you? You the quiet girl who he'd barely spoken to? You were smart enough to know he didn’t make decisions lightly, he must have been watching you to some degree to agree to be with you. And you were soaring at the mere thought.

It’d been a couple of weeks since the two of you became and item, and despite Charles best efforts, you still felt a little shy around him. The only thing you’d done in the time you shared was kiss each other. Partly because Charles and you had duties to fulfill and the time they took, but also because you weren’t so sure about going further. You were afraid of what’d he’d think of you. Romance, affection, and sweetness, all these things gave you butterflies, they made your face redden and your heart quicken. When he complimented you, you got flustered, stumbling for words to return the favor. In contrast, sex and intimacy made you burn inside, and certainly not in anger. You desired him, that was for sure, eyes often trailing his body while he worked, paying extra attention to the movement of his muscles and clear show of strength. You envisioned his hands roaming your flesh, touching you in all the right places; it fueled many a night for you. And that was your concern. You had a kind of image, but not on purpose. People thought you to be the meek and weak-willed girl who stuttered and flushed at perversion. The truth was you were meek, and shy, on the outside, but inside? You craved for Charles to touch you, to call you a good girl, pound you into the mattress, throw you over his shoulder and manhandle you. It was quite the contrast, one you were afraid to show. Your problem was pushing past that initial barrier to be able to lose yourself to the pleasure of his touches so, you hid what you wanted, hid it inside you and let it rest as you focused on other things.

Currently you sat, having finally gotten a break from work, reading a book under a tree near camp. Your hair flowed slightly in the soft breeze that flitted past, and you felt a sense of security at being a little happier with your life. You were content, with yourself, your work, and with Charles and everybody could tell. Ms. Grimshaw had seen you smiling wide as you worked, and when you had confessed about your night at the caravan, she and the rest of the girls had congratulated you. Although Charles was reserved, and you were shy, once together it was easy to tell, and it didn’t take long for your relationship to become public in camp. Not that you minded, sure Micah gave you some shit, but one cold stare from Charles and he relented. Most of the others gave you their congrats at cracking the shell to Charles heart, but you knew there wasn’t much to crack anyway. He was quiet yes, but that didn’t mean he was cold. At least not to you.

You shake the thoughts from your mind, wanting to finish this book since you were close to its end. The book had originally belonged to Charles, but you had picked it up yourself at his recommendation, having wanted nothing more than to further learn about the little joys in his life. The plan was to return it by nightfall because, despite him telling you to take your time, you could tell it was a favorite of his. The book was worn from continual use, but well cared for, and you didn’t want to keep it from him any longer, especially if it meant as much to him as it clearly seemed to. You thought it was cute in all honesty. With a small smile stuck to your features you continued to read.

It was sun down by the time you had finished the book, closing it with one hand as you use the tree for leverage to stand. You stretch out your legs, having been sitting for quite some time under the sun, and decide to return it to its rightful owner. You also just wanted to see him. He had been on a hunt all afternoon to get some meat for the camp, something small, just to keep supplies full, so you had hoped he would be back by now. You make your way towards his tent, excusing yourself as you enter, however, you notice he’s no where to be seen, perhaps he wasn’t back yet. You set the book on a small crate next to his cot, not quite sure what to do with yourself. Should you wait there for him? But you had no reason too, he would see it when he came back. But did you want to wait anyway? Your hand settles itself in front of your skirt, finger twiddling together as your eyes scanned his minimal belongings. You wanted to wait but didn’t want to be a creep by lingering in the middle of his tent. You shake your head, he was nicer than that. You ultimately decide to take a seat on his cot, noting how clean and well made up it is despite being a simple pillow and blanket. You run your hands over the soft material and your nose is hit with the scent of Charles. For whatever reason his smell had always calmed you down, something about it combined with his body warmth, made hugging him incredible, and always brought a smile to your face. You lay down without thinking, burying your face in his pillow as you hug it to your chest. You hadn’t done anything for the past few hours and yet your eyes began to droop, breathing becoming even as you drifted off to sleep. You imagined it to be in his arms.

You awoke to a gentle shaking of your shoulders, a familiar and quiet voice calling out to you. You blink your eyes, vision blurry as you regain consciousness. It’s a moment, but you soon remember where exactly you are and the fact that you’d fallen asleep on Charles cot, clutching his pillow to your chest. You shoot up, startling him as your face turns beet red at the embarrassment of casually napping in his tent. You hear him laugh gently at you, a hand smoothing out the stray hairs from your head, but it only makes you more embarrassed.

“I see you were tired. I didn’t mean to startle you.” You shake your head but can’t bear to look at him, “Can I have that back though?” You look down, hands still cuddling his pillow and you quickly shove the object back onto the top of his cot, giving a meek apology.

“S- sorry Charles I uh…I guess I was tired.” You laugh slightly, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear as you finally make the move to look at his face. It’s as handsome as ever, with a small smile adorning his features and it makes your heart skip a beat. As you look at each other something shifts, the feel in the air, his hand still stroking your head had moved to stroking your cheek. It feel different between you, and when he leans closer, head angled to fit his lips to yours, you don’t question it. It’s soft, gentle, and it, like all the tender kisses you share, takes your breathe away. But as soon as it began, it ends, and your left cold as his hand drops to the cot below. You open your eyes, disappointment evident on your features and ah. There’s that unreadable expression again on Charles face. He turns away releasing a huff of air as he stands and you quickly grab his sleeve. Your mind flashes to that first night again, hands having clutched the same spot. Except this time, you know what to say and weren't afraid to say it.

“I wanna stay with you. Tonight. In bed.” Charles’ eyes widen, clearly taken aback by your boldness. There’s a moment of silence, and you fear that he'll shake you off and leave but instead, he turns his body to face you, sitting back down on the cot. He looks down a moment, clearly formulating a response.

“Are you sure? If your not ready then-“ You huff, you've been ready for ages. Deciding action may be the best course to avoid a long spiel about the task of intimacy, you grab his shirt, using the surprise to your advantage and pushing him onto his back on the cot. He lets out a grunt as he falls onto it, you wasting no time whatsoever in straddling him. He looks up to you, baffled by the sudden change. Your cheeks flush, hands still holding onto his shirt, unmoving and unable to look at him a moment.

“I- I’m sure,” you look to his face, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot Charles. And I want you to touch me. Please.” Your voice has a slight whine to it as you emphasize the please with a tug to his button up. He swallows thickly and nods, hands grabbing your hips, applying light pressure as he holds you in place. A hand trails under your skirt to your inner thigh and you gasp at the warmth of his palm as it travels up your leg to your underwear. You bite your lip, the anticipation of Charles touch making you wetter as his thumb rubs circles right next to where you want it most. Suddenly his thumb is tracing your slit and you release a shaky breathe as the teasing touch makes you shiver. You keep waiting for him to rub harder, to circle your clit, or move your underwear to the side to slide his fingers in you, but he doesn’t and when you look down to him all you see is small smirk on his face. You let a frustrated grunt, grabbing his hand and pushing it more firmly against your wetness guiding his fingers to rub you harder, and you moan in response. You grind your hips against his palm and he bites his lip, eyes mesmerized by how lustful your acting. He didn’t expect you to be this bold in the bedroom, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it. His other hand works on undoing the buttons of your shirt, as much of them as he can reach, and you ultimately end up having to help him undo the rest, hands leaving his to do so. You open your shirt slowly, teasing him now by slightly grinding your ass into his growing erection, revealing inch after inch of smooth skin until you pull the material of your shirt all the way off. Charles groans at your incessant grinding, thrusting his hips upwards.

You lean down onto him so that your pussy is lined with his dick, every thrust of his hips sending jolts of electricity through your body as the tip of his cock hits your clit through the fabric of your clothes. Your grinding becomes harsher as your breath does, mouths having met to share a rough kiss between the two of you. You bite his lip, hands frantically reaching for the sides of his shirt and you pull. The sound of ripping fabric and buttons breaking of makes Charles break the kiss to look at you, his pupils dilated.

“You, ripped my shirt,” Something changes in his expression as his voice gets lower, “Two can play at this game.” He suddenly sits up, causing you to fall backwards a bit. In a flash your suddenly the one on your back, skirt being pulled off by Charles, leaving you in only your bra and panties, at least for now. Charles grabs your underwear by the hem, and with one hand the fabric is ripped off of you and you can’t help but be even more turned on because of it. He kisses your mouth hard, then your neck, biting and nibbling as he trails down your body and you moan in response. When he comes face to face with your cunt you can’t help but shiver. He looks at you moment before slowly dragging the flat of his tongue from the bottom to the top of your slit, sucking slightly on your clit before repeating the action. You let your head fall back as he licks and sucks on your dripping cunt, the tip of his tongue used for more defined touches. It's killing you with how good it feels, your imagination of how he'd do was nothing like the reality. His fingers come up to rub at your clit, using your own juices as lubricant and you find your hands fisting in his hair, urging him to go further. He sticks two fingers in and you moan his name as he rubs that particular spot at the top.

“Charles, I, I want more, touch me more.” how could he say no to you when you sounded like that? Charles starts to thrust his fingers in and out, slow at first but building in pace, at an angle so that every pass rubs against your G-spot, his tongue lavishing the outer parts in licks and sucks. He sucks hard on your clit and you cry out at the sensation. You glance down at him, his hair gripped in your fist and his eyes closed in concentration. You notice the tell-tale movement of the arm not being used on you and you don’t need to guess what it is that he’s doing. The fact that him eating you out made him turned on as it did you made you burn with desire. You were finally getting what you had dreamed of, Charles touching you in all the right places, and loving it. But you wanted more, wanted him to seal the deal so to speak, and you tugged on his hair causing him to open his eyes and look at you.

“Charles, that’s enough,” your voice was breathy with a whiny quality to it and it sounded so sweet he couldn’t refuse your request. He stops, raising his body to look down at you, “I wanna cum on your cock.” Charles had to control himself because hearing you say something like that was a sin. It brought a flush to his cheeks and a shaky breath to leave his lungs.

“You…you can’t say things like that. Do you know what your doing to me?” One glance downward and you could make a guess, but you didn’t say anything just pulling him down for another kiss. You reach down between you, hand gripping his cock and he moans in your mouth. You situate yourself as to better align it, and he follows your physical commands by finally sliding into you. The fit was perfect, it felt better then you could have ever imagined having him inside of you, and if his face was anything to go by, he felt the same. You were so wet and turned on you barely needed any time to adjust to his size, wanting him to just fuck you already. He looks down at you and you nod your head, his hips giving slow shallow thrusts in response. You hook your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you and you both moan. But it's still not enough for you, so you grab at his shoulders, eyes pleading as you beg him to go faster and harder. He complies, body leaning upwards and hands grabbing your hips to pull you to him. He starts pounding you into his cot and by the sound of your voice you don’t doubt the whole camp can hear the two of you fucking, but you didn’t care.

He kept hitting that part in you, bringing your orgasm closer and closer and god were you ready for it. You pitch increased, nails digging into his thighs next to your waist, calling his name over and over. And just like that your orgasm washes over you, and despite being lost in the feeling you manage to control your volume somewhat, not wanting to alert the camp any more then you probably have. He watches you, loving how you arch your back, how good he made you feel, to see you come undone beneath him. The sight certainly helped to bring him to the edge. Charles pulls out once you’ve finished, stroking himself in his hand a few times before spilling himself over your stomach and chest with a low groan.

You both remain still for a moment, bodies heavy with sleep and satisfaction. That was quite the ride of your life for sure. Charles takes the remainder of his clothes off, using his busted shirt to wipe the cum from your body, tossing it off somewhere else and you take the time to remove your bra. He lays down next to you, adjusting both your bodies to retrieve the blanket underneath, draping it across you and pulling you into his chest. You curl into his side, eyes already closed and body ready to drift off, but his voice kept you awake a moment more.

“I thought you were some shy maiden, but I guess that’s not entirely true is it?” you blush a bright red, averting his gaze.

“Did you…do you not like it?” He shakes his head and laughs gently.

“Surprising, but…not unwelcome.” He plants a soft kiss to your forward, pulling you closer as both he and you fall asleep.