#anyway. forgetting texas was ever a thing

[alxclaremont]

had to witness oscar do promo for the t*xas l*nghorns, my school lost TERRIBLY in football for the second weekend in a row, and mclaren was fucking stupid as usual. horrible terrible bad weekend to be a sports fan

[mxstellatayte]

fuck me up, florida.

warnings: angst for the majority of it, sex at the end though, legal use of alcohol (reader and logan are both 23,) mentions of gunshot wounds, minor character death, based on a taylor swift song, childhood (middle/high school) friends to lovers, idiots in love, "you came" "you called," reader is half mexican (mom's side), slightly inaccurate bc i know carola wasn't at the miami gp but just go with it for the plot, reader's last name is rodriguez,

author's note: y'all i apologize if any of the spanish grammar is a little weird. my spanish is rusty, pls don't hate me for it

logan sargeant x female reader

i need to forget so

tuesday, april 30th.

you scan your ticket, the screen displaying your name and seat number. 12A. at least it'll be easy to sleep, you think.

after shoving your suitcase above your seat, you shuffle your way to the window and buckle yourself in.

are you really doing this? flying a couple thousand miles to visit your childhood best friend who, up until recently, had you convinced that his newfound fame that he'd gathered by announcing his enrollment in the williams driver's academy made him too good for you.

the only thing that made you think otherwise was the instagram dm he'd sent you five weeks prior, asking if you'd be able to make it to the miami grand prix. instead of a simple yes or no, you responded with the heaviest three words you've ever seen in order.

can we call?

logan picked up on the second ring.

"hey."

"hey."

"how's texas?"

you smile. "hot. sunny. flat. beachless."

"so... it's good?" you hate that you can still picture his facial expressions even after not seeing him for years except for on tv.

"'s okay, but it's not home, y'know?"

"definitely. it doesn't matter how much i decorate my place in england, it's never florida."

"nothing besides florida is ever florida," you sigh, looking out the window of your apartment. "how's the season been?" you don't exactly know why you're asking. you know exactly how his season's gone. you keep every single detail of every single race weekend meticulously catalogued in a journal that you take everywhere with you. no matter what, you've stayed up late or woken up early to watch every race, as if your hopeful energy would make its way across the world to him in time.

"honestly? it's been pretty shit. the car handles really badly and wasn't really even ready for the first few hours of testing in bahrain. i can't get it to perform and maybe that's just because i haven't linked with the car yet, but it still really sucks."

you sigh, hoping logan can't tell how disappointed you are with his team and engineers. "you need a better team, lo."

"i know." there's silence between you for a few moments, and every second that passes makes it grow heavier on your chest. "will you come to miami?"

there it is. the reason you called him.

"i don't know, lo. don't get me wrong, i'd love to, but it's really short notice and i don't know if i could afford the trip. i might be able to make it to austin, but i'll need the time to save the money for the trip."

"i'll fly you out," logan immediately says, his tone almost desperate. longing. "i'll pay for your flight, your hotel, everything. please?"

that last word hit you like a punch in the gut. you only had one more reason to not go and you weren't about to tell him that reason. it was a shitty excuse anyways.

you're not about to tell him that the reason you moved to texas was to give him the space he needed to be able to succeed in his career and for you to succeed in yours.

take me to florida

you're jolted awake by the force of the plane landing, if you can call the awkward limbo you were stuck in sleep. immediately, your stomach twists with anxiety. logan had offered to pick you up from the airport, but you refused.

"i'll just take an uber," you'd said. "i'm gonna want to relax a bit after the flight, y'know?"

his only trade-off? you met him for dinner. simple enough, right?

in theory.

now, standing in front of the full-length mirror in your hotel room, you debate between a floral sundress and a pair of denim shorts, a tank top, and a white button-up t-shirt with a colorful inkblot pattern.

you decide on the sundress.

fifteen minutes later, you're pushing earrings through your piercings, silver abstract shapes you'd bought on a trip to europe with your mother. you have to leave, but the situation you're in sucks. your hair won't sit right on your head, either being too frizzy from the humidity or losing any and all volume, and your makeup just doesn't seem like it'll last in the miami heat.

fuck it.

who are you dressing for, anyways?

logan's seen you at your absolute worst. he was the only one you let yourself cry in front of after your father died. he was the one that held you for what seemed like hours while you sobbed into his chest and he told you that none of it was your fault- that you never could have known that, when you hugged him before he left for the police station, told him you loved him, and slipped a note into his lunch box, the next time you would see him, he would be laying in a casket. he was the only one that could make you smile in the weeks following his funeral, dropping his entire schedule if you simply sent him a text that said "can you come over?"

the restaurant logan found isn't too far from your hotel, so you ultimately decide to walk. your walk is over before you're able to process that it even started and you're taking out your earbuds and putting them in your bag, taking out your phone instead to text logan.

i'm here.

i've got some regrets

were you always this breathtakingly beautiful?

logan's phone buzzes in his front pocket, but he knows it's you texting him. he doesn't even bother taking it out of his pocket before standing up from his seat at the bar and walking over to you, and when you see him, your smile almost makes his heart melt.

"hey," he says, and he hopes his voice doesn't waver from how nervous he is.

"hey. i missed you," you respond, dodging the hand he holds out and going in for a hug. "i've known you since middle school, logan, i'm not shaking your hand."

your arms around him and your body pressed against his almost makes logan short circuit. thankfully, he's able to regain control of his brain and hug you back, hopefully before you realize he isn't hugging you back.

when you pull back, the hug seeming way too brief for logan's preference, you're looking up and smiling with a sparkle in your eyes that makes him regret not making enough time for you. "thanks for bringing me out here."

"thanks for coming. do you want a drink?"

"sure. do you have a table yet?"

"i was waiting for you."

"in that case, lead the way." you gesture towards the restaurant, and logan shows you to a booth in the corner. soon enough, a waiter comes over to you and sets down two glasses of water and two menus.

"welcome in, y'all. do we need a bit of time to look at the menu or do we know what we want to get started?" his southern drawl is thick, and it reminds you of texas. but you're in florida now.

"i think we'll look at the menu for a minute, thanks," logan says, and the waiter nods and walks away. as you open the menu and begin looking, logan points out something you might like and you do the same for him. conversation begins to flow freely between you, and it reminds you of the times in high school when you would go out with friends.

eventually, you decide on a plate of nachos and logan gets a plate of wings. as you wait for your food, you catch up on everything: your move to texas, logan's racing career, your work volunteering with the austin philharmonic, his homesickness from living in england, and everything in between. you crack stupid jokes, share bites of food, and steal sips of each other's drinks.

it's like old times.

i'll bury them in florida

on wednesday, you and logan drive up to visit your father's headstone. it's difficult. it's only the third time you've visited him since he was buried three years ago. the first time you visited him was a year after he died. even a year later, you still carried so much anger and hatred towards the doctors and nurses that were operating on him, trying desperately to save his life after two bullets hit him- one in his leg, one in his torso.

he died on the table.

the second time was just a few months after, and you were still wearing your cap, gown, and stole from your graduation ceremony. by then, you had been able to forgive the doctors and had graduated in the top 10% of your class. four years of hell had finally rewarded you with a degree in instrumental performance and an internship at the south florida symphony orchestra.

now, the third time, you have a picnic blanket and lunch packed into the backseat of logan's car, the windows are rolled down, and your favorite playlist is shuffled on the aux. it's a beautiful day, too; it isn't too hot (even with the humidity,) there's a gentle breeze in the air, and clouds occasionally cover the sun. when logan pulls into the parking lot of the cemetery and you sling your tote bag full of food over your shoulder, your hands start shaking.

of course, logan notices.

his hand slides into your own, and you look up at him. his eyes meet yours and you smile. "thank you for coming with me," you say.

"of course. i didn't want you to have to do this alone."

you look back at the gate into the cemetery, the black bars menacingly sleek and very, very terrifying. you chew your lower lip in anxiety. "i don't know if i can do it, logan."

"i'm here with you. i know you. you're strong. you aren't the kind of person to let a gate scare you." you laugh lightly, looking down at the ground. the gravel of the parking lot, your scuffed, beat-up high top purple converse, and logan's nike dunks make up what you have to describe as a perfect picture. your phone is in your free hand before you know it, and you're lining up the shot. "still into photography, huh?"

"yep. i have some cameras in my suitcase at the hotel." when you pocket your phone and look back up at him, logan's heart melts. the shine in your eyes and the passion in your smile is enough to soften anyone's heart, but for him, as someone who's known you for years and has been there for you through thick and thin, it touches him in such a special way. "i'm hoping to get some good photos of the races. but enough delaying. let's go visit my dad."

the creak of the gates opening makes your ears bleed, and you laugh at how logan is making the exact same face as you in reaction to such a shrill sound. despite only having visited his headstone twice before, you remember exactly where in the cemetery it is and are able to find it within five minutes.

"hi, dad," you begin, your voice already wavering just the slightest and tears beginning to well in your eyes. logan's hand squeezes yours, though, and you're reminded that he's right there. he always will be. you take a deep breath and continue. "i miss you. we all do. i know i haven't visited you in a while, and i'm sorry about that. i really do have to come stop by every now and then. i moved to austin and have a volunteering gig with the austin philharmonic at almost every show and i have a job at a company that helps students with learning disabilities learn instruments. it's really fun." you pause to wipe the tears off of your cheeks, your nose beginning to drip. "sam is in his junior year of college, and he's majoring in engineering. he flew the coop, but he still comes home for the summers. he, uh, he actually got in to c.u. boulder, like he always talked about. that kid was always thinking about college, even in middle school.

"i'm actually here with logan, too, if you hadn't noticed. do you, uh, do you want to fill him in on what's going on with you, or should i keep going?"

"whatever you prefer."

"okay, i'm going to keep talking, because i think if i don't, i'm going to completely break down. logan finally signed with williams to drive on their formula 1 team last year, like i always said he would. i'm really proud of him and really regret not telling him that more, and now that i'm saying it out loud i'm promising both you and him that i'll tell him that more often. the race this weekend is actually here, in florida. miami, specifically. it's always a celebrity shit show that no one really wants to see, but it's the main opportunity for the celebrity sponsors to actually go to a race.

"what else has been going on? oh, mom is still a therapist. i can't tell you much about that because of hipaa, but she always comes home saying that she's glad that she could help someone. i'm gonna have dinner with her tomorrow night, and then i'm going back into miami to watch logan's practice sessions."

you pause your rambling, thinking about what there is to say next, but your thought is interrupted by your stomach grumbling. loud. you and logan laugh just as loudly, the sound echoing through the grass field and stone gravesites. "oh, yeah, that's another thing. we brought lunch. i also got you pink tulips, because i know they're your favorite." you delicately rest the bouquet on your father's headstone as you sit down, then pull out the different plastic containers filled with food you'd stolen from the williams hospitality. "you'd be proud of me, dad. i smuggled this entire picnic out of the wiliams motorhome without a hiccup. robin hood style."

logan laughs, and you turn to him. he's mirrored your position, sitting cross-legged on the grass. "apple?"

"nah, i'm gonna start with my sandwich. i did grab you some of the salt and vinegar chips i know you like."

the look logan gives you can only be described as pure adoration. "you," he says, pointing a finger at you in an incredibly sassy manner, "are an absolute goddess."

"i know," you respond cheekily, tossing some hair over your shoulder.

the banter between the two of you continues through your picnic, laughter and smiles erasing the dried tracks of tears on your cheeks and on logan's. you're almost able to forget where you are.

tell me i'm despicable

almost two hours later, the two of you are laying in a nearby park underneath a tree, peacefully observing the clouds that pass overhead and talking even more about any topic that comes to your mind. the question that's been gnawing at you since your plane landed in miami eventually bubbles to the surface, and it tumbles past your lips before you can stop it.

"did you ever wonder why i moved to texas?" you look to your left where logan rests, but he keeps looking up at the sky. you mirror him.

"i always assumed it was just because you needed a change of scenery. after everything that happened and your music career taking off, it would make sense that you would relocate to somewhere better suited for you."

"that's the thing, though. if i'm being entirely honest with you, lo, i hate texas. i hate the whole state. i hate how hot it is all the time without even being humid, i hate not being able to go to the beach. i hate how dry it is. i hate how flat it is. i hate the monotony of it. i hate not being here."

logan hesitates for a moment before speaking, and it's the longest moment you've ever experienced. "why did you move to austin, then?"

when he looks over at you, you're chewing your lower lip. it's a nervous tic, logan's noticed. he's not even sure if you know you do it. "honestly? i thought you moved on from our friendship. i thought everything with f1 suddenly got so big and important and famous that maybe i wasn't... enough? i thought that being a police officer's daughter from the same town as you that was studying to teach people how to understand and play music maybe just wasn't cool enough to be friends with a world-renowned formula 1 driver."

logan's heart almost shatters when he hears the weakness in your voice. you sound so broken and so alone. he knew that, when you lost your father, you isolated yourself from a lot of people, even your best friend from high school and through your first year of college. he was the only person outside of your immediate family that you spent a decent amount of time with, but when he was admitted to the driver's academy he had to move to england. he abandoned you.

"i didn't. i never forgot about you. sometimes i still look through the photos we have together because i miss you that much."

you sit up, tears pricking your eyes for the second time that day. "really?"

"yeah. maybe once a week?"

when you look down at logan, you're suddenly starstruck. you can't help but notice all of his little features that you wouldn't see if you didn't know to look for them. his freckles that are so light you'd have to squint to see them if you didn't know them like the back of your hand. the mole on his chin that he'd always been self-conscious about but you've always seen it as beautiful. the lines from where his eyes crinkle when he smiles. the annoyingly perfect flop of his hair that he's styled almost the exact same way since you started high school together. an urge you haven't felt in years suddenly bubbles, white-hot in the pit of your stomach, and it's boiling over before you can stop it. your eyes are closed and your lips are on his. finally. after years of wanting, of stares that lasted just a bit too long to be just friendly, of flushed faces and nervous excuses, you're finally kissing him.

but he's not kissing you back.

you pull back immediately, panicked that you read something wrong. you turn away, hiding your face in your hands out of shame. "shit, logan, i'm so sorry. i thought-"

"kiss me again." logan sits up, and when you turn around, the look he's giving you can only be described as completely and entirely fucked. you don't question his statement, just lean forward, placing your lips on his, and letting yourself melt. he moans softly into the kiss, his right arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. when you pull away and open your eyes, your breath catches in your throat. he looks beautiful. his eyes remain closed, but when they flutter open, you see colors in them that you've never seen before. sure, you've always seen the darker rim of blue that outlines his irises, but now that you're so close to him, you can see the flecks of green and grey in them. it's the most stunning thing you've ever seen.

eventually, you break the silence between the two of you. "i've wanted to kiss you for so long," you whisper, so quiet you're not sure logan heard it.

but he did.

"me, too," he says, and after a beat of silence between you two, you both burst out laughing. the laugh he hears from you is the pure, bright laugh that logan's missed so dearly, the laugh that you only really let him hear. the laugh that has tears in your eyes and makes you snort because you're laughing so hard you can't even breathe properly.

eventually, when you're able to calm down, your head resting on logan's shoulder, your hand holding his, you're able to process what just happened. you just hope logan is processing it, too.

"we just kissed."

"yes. we did."

"how long have you held out on me?"

"since christmas of sophomore year. when you made me the chevron bracelet with my favorite colors."

you laugh, then lift your head to look at him. "i fell for you in october of that year. when you convinced your mom to drive two and a half hours for the marching band state finals. just so you could be there with me."

"god, we're idiots," logan laughs. you can't help but lean forward and press another kiss to his lips, lingering there and just breathing him in.

existing.

say it's unforgivable

the next two days fly by. thursday, you spend the day with your mother. she asks all sorts of questions as if she doesn't know the answers, and you answer each one with a smile on your face. when she asks about logan, you smile sheepishly. she figures out what the smile means.

"took you two long enough."

normally you'd still be in bed at 9:30 am on a friday, but today, you walk into the miami paddock clutching logan's hand for dear life. your neon green pass hangs from your neck, a white williams cap atop your head. you can't help but feel out of place, but someone calls logan's name and you both turn. your stomach drops when you see who's called his name. his hair is styled similarly to logan's, and he sports a papaya polo.

you'd know him anywhere. it's oscar piastri.

you're standing there a bit awkwardly as logan greets his friend, but your heart stops when oscar turns to you. "oscar, this is my girlfriend." he introduces you by your name to the mclaren driver and you wipe your hands on your denim shorts before shaking his hand firmly, exchanging "nice to meet you"s. the three of you chat for a few minutes before oscar is summoned by his pr manager.

"girlfriend, huh?" you look up at logan with a smile on your face, lacing his fingers with yours.

"i didn't mean to overstep, but i kind of assumed that's what this is now. is it?" he looks a bit nervous asking that, and if you thought your love for him couldn't grow any more, you thought wrong.

"that's absolutely what we are, lo. you're my boyfriend. i'm your girlfriend." you can tell just how hard logan's trying to not let the smile on his face show just how happy he is to hear you say that, and you stand on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips briefly. "you have a prep meeting to get to, don't you?"

"i do. come with me, though. i need to introduce you to alex and lily. she can show you around."

"sounds like a plan. i need to learn how to do all of..." you gesture around you, the white tents and media carts all seeming suddenly too intimidating. "...this."

logan laughs, placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the williams hospitality. when you're next to him, though, despite the cameras around you and your proximity to some of the world's biggest stars, you feel safe and protected.

after meeting logan's teammate and the thai driver's girlfriend, who you quickly realize is one of the sweetest people you've ever had the pleasure of meeting, you're shown around the williams hospitality and, eventually, the paddock. lily introduces you to the other drivers' wives and girlfriends that have made it to the weekend, and when you hear a certain last name, your ears perk up.

"martinez? is she latina?"

"yeah," kika, pierre's girlfriend, says. "she's checo's wife. i'm pretty sure she's in the red bull hospitality right now, though."

"ah, speak of the devil," lily says. you see carola walking up to the five of you, alexandra ("please, honey, call me alex," she'd said, bringing you in for a kiss on your cheek,) having walked away to get a drink and escape into the sweet air conditioning. "carola, there's a new couple on the paddock."

"you're kidding," the latina answers, her accent apparent. "who?"

"logan found himself a girlfriend. allow me to introduce her." lily turns to you and introduces you by your full name, last name and all. it seems that carola has a similar reaction to your last name as you did to hers, and her head tilts to the side.

"ya no eres la única mexicana aquí," you say, and her eyebrows raise. (you aren't the only mexican here anymore.)

"hablas español, también?" (you speak spanish, too?) when you nod, her smile brightens. "hay, chica, creo que nosotras dos nos vamos a llevar muy bien." (oh, girl, i think we're going to get along very well.)

on saturday, you find yourself back in the williams motorhome, except this time, you wear a second badge, the neon green lanyard reading grid access in bold black lettering. like the day before, you clutch logan's hand for your own comfort until, much to your dismay, he's summoned for driver duties. you place a quick kiss on his cheek, and when you pull back, you aren't sure if the flush on his cheeks is from the affection or the miami heat. probably both.

"in case i don't see you before sprint. for luck."

"oh, you'll be in the garage. that's what this pass is for," logan says, holding your second badge in front of your face. "lily will show you where to go. i'll take a kiss anyways, though." you smile, stand on your toes, and kiss him, pulling back before he can wrap an arm around your waist. (that was a trick he very much enjoyed, as you'd learned the night before. there was something in him that needed you as close to him as possible, and it covered every nerve ending in your body in liquid fire.)

"off you go. you need to get race ready. i'll see you before you go out on the grid. don't worry." you gently shove him away with a smile, and you'd stare at him longer if your ankles weren't suddenly being attacked. you look down and squeal. "hi, leo! did your dad let you run free?" you squat down and scratch the mini daschund behind his disproportionally large ears, and he barks excitedly.

someone curses in french to your right, and you look up from the little golden ball of energy to see none other than charles leclerc frantically searching around. leo barks again, and the monégasque whips around, then locks eyes on you first, then his dog.

"merde, leo. you have too much energy for it being this early in the morning," he laughs as he walks over to you.

"i apologize, it appears i've unintentionally kidnapped your dog." you stand, and leo jumps at your calves again.

"ah, no harm, no foul," charles replies, picking up his dog and holding him close to his chest. "i will say, though, you look strangely familiar. have we met? my name is charles."

"we have not." you extend your hand and offer your name, and, when charles' eyebrows furrow and his head tilts in confusion, you realize that means nothing to him. "i'm logan's girlfriend."

"ah! yes, of course! he has a photo of the two of you at your high school graduation in his wallet. that's where i knew you from. well, it's nice to meet you!" that was news to you. logan has a picture of you in his wallet? either way, you just casually met one of the most famous people in the world like it was a standard tuesday.

if this is what i signed up for by being logan's girlfriend, then it is absolutely wild.

you're able to catch another good luck kiss with logan as he's almost fully suited up, and fuck, does he look good. his fireproof suit hangs low on his hips, the arms tied together in front of him. dark blue is a good color on him, and his facial hair is grown out in just the slightest. you can't lie, he looks hot as hell.

you cross your legs in an attempt to curb the heat that creeps down your tummy and between them. it doesn't work.

you amend it that night in logan's hotel room following his p10 in the sprint.

on sunday, you try to avoid thinking about the night before as you follow the same routine as the two days before- arriving early in the day, checking in at the williams motorhome, and then killing time until the driver's parade at 2:00 PM. you spend time with your new group of friends, spending the three remaining hours before the parade in the paddock club. rebecca, carlos' girlfriend, snickers at your shocked face when you see some of your idols and favorite celebrities casually walking around, gladly taking some photos for you as you're practically buzzing with excitement.

after the driver's parade, it's a whirlwind. you're swept back into the williams garage and find logan's driver's room relatively easily thanks to the help of some of the engineers and mechanics, but one of them stops you before you can venture too far into the depths of the hallways.

"could you tell him we have the pre-race strategy meeting in twenty minutes?"

"yeah, for sure." as you approach logan's door, you have to bite down on your lower lip to stifle the grin that wants to split your face. you knock on his door, and when he opens it, you know something's wrong. "lo, are you okay?" his eyes are red and his hand shakes on the doorknob. instead of a verbal response, he just opens the door a bit further to let you in, and, as soon as it shuts behind you, he sobs, and your heart shatters.

"i'm so scared. i'm so scared that something's going to happen and i'm going to let all of these people down and-" you gather him into your arms and he cries into the crook of your neck, your williams crewneck shirt now damp with his tears. you couldn't care less.

"you're going to do amazing, logie. i know you will." with your arms wrapped around him, it's almost like a weighted blanket of safety has encompassed him, and his sobs slow, his breaths growing deeper and more even. you continue murmuring words of confidence into his shoulder, and not a single word you say is empty.

"hey. look at me." you lean back and gently cup his cheek with your right palm, and when his eyes meet yours, you know that he needed to cry that one out. "do you feel a little bit better?" logan nods, tilting his head ever so slightly to kiss your palm, his own hand coming up to rest over yours. it's a cute, sappy, stupidly romantic moment that you from three weeks ago would've probably thought was the grossest thing known to mankind, but you can't help but bask in the moment. "is there anything i can do to help you feel better right now?" your voice is a soothing balm over logan's agitated nerves, and he slowly untangles himself from you and guides you over to the couch that's against the back wall, where he sits down and you curl up to his left side.

"can you just... talk? about anything?"

"are you seriously asking if me, the person with the most rampant adhd you've ever met, can talk about something? yes, logan, i absolutely can. what to talk about, though?"

as you talk, deciding to info dump about your favorite classical music piece, logan can't help but watch it unfold. he doesn't know jack shit about music theory, but listening to you ramble about something you're passionate about brings him so much peace. you're disturbed about fifteen minutes later by a knock at the door, promptly followed by a disembodied voice telling logan that it was time for the strategy meeting.

"aw, shit," he says, leaning his head back and rubbing at his eyes. "i have that to go to now."

"yeah, sorry. i was supposed to tell you about that but we had a bigger problem on our hands." your voice is sheepish now that your info dump has been cut short, but logan leans over to you and kisses you, soft and slow, just like the first time he kissed you properly in the park. when he pulls away, he looks so much calmer than he was twenty minutes before. "is there anything else i can do?"

"go have some fun in the paddock. and please drink some water." you roll your eyes and stand, bringing him in for another hug before you slip out of the door.

almost two hours later, you're back in the williams garage with a guest headset over your ears. your stomach twists with nerves as the national anthem concludes. lily's hand is clasped with yours.

"the first lap is the worst. after that, you lose a lot of the anxiety," she assures you, noticing how you chew your lower lip.

"thanks." you pause for a moment, contemplating another question. "does it ever get easier? seeing how they go out there and drive like absolute maniacs for fun?"

"it does. it took me a couple of months, but after alex showed me all of the safety features in the car and in his fireproofs, it definitely helped."

it's the moment you've been dreading.

one red light.

two.

three.

four.

five.

and then none.

the engines roar and the race has begun. lily didn't lie to you- the first lap is excruciatingly long, but when everyone's completed their first loop around the circuit, you let yourself breathe. your eyes are trained on the screen above you, and the laps are flying by so quickly that you barely process that the race is nearly halfway over.

but then logan's car is in the wall. fuck.

as you watch the replay of his crash, you can feel white-hot rage burning in your body. after the race stewards only declare a ten-second penalty and two super license points, though, you're fuming. "two penalty points and a ten-second penalty? magnussen caused logan's race to end, and they just let him go? they just forgive him and move on? how can he get away with that? this is bullshit!"

what a crash, what a rush

the first person logan looks for when he walks back into the williams garage, his visor still low over his eyes in shame, is you. when you see him walking towards the room where you and lily watch the race, you tear the headset off of your ears and run to him. the feeling of his arms wrapping around your shoulders and hearing his heartbeat even through your musician's earplugs soothes your agitated nerves. he's okay. he's alive. he isn't hurt. "thank fuck you're okay," you say, even though he definitely can't hear you through his helmet and over the roar of passing engines. when you pull away, you press a kiss to his knuckles and hope he understands how much love you're trying to convey through such a small gesture.

fuck me up, florida!

one of logan's best friends on the grid is oscar. oscar's teammate got his maiden win after almost five years of waiting in miami.

like any sensible person, you celebrate with him.

you have no idea what the name of the club is, much less how many drinks you've had so far, but what you do know is that lando has commandeered the dj station and logan is pressed against your back, his hands resting on your hips. the air is hot and thick, your heartbeat pounds in your head. the opening notes of bad bunny's tití me preguntó begin playing through the massive speakers, and you shoot a glare up to lando that he doesn't see, his focus instead on the equipment in front of him. when the bass hits, though, you let all apprehensiveness go and your genetics take the reins. your hips sway and swing to the beat, your hands wander up and down your torso, and logan simply follows your lead. it takes you a moment to realize that, if you want to get a rise out of him, you're going to have to spin around and face him.

with your hips swaying against his and how unbearably beautiful you look in the dim light, your skin glowing with sweat and your hair up in a high ponytail, logan can't help but lean down and kiss you when you finally turn around. you reciprocate gladly, your right leg slotting between both of his, and...

oh.

oh.

he's hard.

you pull away slightly, barely an inch between your lips. "slow your roll there, tiger."

"i don't want to." fire zips down your spine at the sound of his voice, low and breathy and so, so desperate. "need to fuck you."

"should we get outta here, then?"

"i thought you'd never ask." you smile and kiss him quickly, then take his hand and weave your way through the crowded dance floor. as the miami night air hits your face, you immediately feel cooler. you sigh, taking a moment to breathe and regulate your heart rate and body temperature, but you can't breathe for that long before logan wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back against him and kissing your neck. you laugh, running your hands along his forearms.

"logan, not here. the hotel is two blocks away."

"i can't help it, baby, you just look so pretty," he hums, kissing the back of your neck once more before pulling away and stepping around to face you. "you look so pretty, and you're mine."

his possessiveness of you makes more heat zip down your spine, and you almost drool at how he's looking at you. his eyes, normally a beautiful mix between the blues of the sky and sea, ar"e almost completely dark, only a small sliver of his irises remaining, and the muscles in his jaw tick. "hotel. now."

by the time you reach the door to logan's hotel room, you're both out of breath from how hard he kissed you in the elevator and the arousal and need between your legs won't be stopped unless he replaces it. you stumble through the door and try to kiss logan again, matching the vigor he showed you in the elevator, but he stops you. "wanna take my time with you tonight."

"yeah?" you raise an eyebrow and inspect his face. the blinds are open but no lights are on, so all you can see is the side of his face that's illuminated by the lights from the streets of miami. it's an unusually beautiful sight.

"yeah. nothing about what i'm about to do to you is going to be fast. i'm gonna make you feel good tonight. how's that sound?"

"that sounds amazing, logan." you lean forward and kiss him gently, your lips slotting together as if you were made for each other. who knows, maybe you were. the next five minutes are a blur, but before you know it, you're laying back against the pillows on logan's bed and his face is buried between your thighs, his tongue working magic on your clit. the air in the hotel room is filled with your moans and the sounds of logan devouring you like a man starved, and it's the most beautiful mix of sounds you've ever heard. when he flicks his tongue oh-so-perfectly against your entrance, his nose brushing over your clit, you moan and pull his hair hard, which, in turn, makes him moan against you.

you aren't sure how much time passes or how many orgasms logan pulls from you with just his tongue and his fingers, but when you feel completely and entirely spent, your chest heaving and your hairline sparkling with tiny beads of sweat, you pull logan up to you by his shoulders, and he looks completely and entirely fucked. "need you inside of me," you mumble, wiping at the mix of spit and cum that coats the entire bottom half of his face with your thumbs. as if on instinct, you bring your hands to your mouth and lick them clean, and logan groans at the sight. "inside. now."

"as you wish, baby." logan's hands fumble at his boxers, the only item of clothing he was left wearing, and when he finally, finally pushes himself into you, you both moan. your hands scrabble at his shoulders and back, most definitely leaving red marks that will raise later, and his mouth latches onto your neck, biting down and then gently kissing over the red spot.

"nngh, lo-" your brain is short circuiting, logan's cock filling you up so perfectly and absolutely ruining you for any other man ever.

"yeah? you okay, baby?" he pulls back from your neck and scans your face for any sign of discomfort of pain, his sky blue eyes searching your own. the feeling of safety you get from just that one action is almost enough to make you sob from how good you feel because of him, both physically and emotionally.

"feels so good, lo. j'st... move, please."

"you sure? i don't wanna hurt you."

"positive. now please." you reach a hand up and pull him down towards you by the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling hard. "fuck me properly." without wasting a second, logan reaches a hand down and hooks it under your left thigh, bringing your leg up to rest around his waist, then pulling back and thrusting back in fast. the moan that rips itself from your throat is sinful, and your breath is being punched from your lungs at the downright brutal pace logan's setting. your right leg finds itself locking around his waist, only bringing him infinitely closer, and now, each time he thrusts back into you, your clit bumps against his pelvis. within minutes, you're embarrassingly close to cumming again, and through your garbled mumbling and clawing at his shoulders, he understands, reaching his right hand down to gently press against your clit.

"cum for me, baby, please, need to feel you cum for me just one more time, just let go, i've got you." it's logan's voice that ultimately sends you pummelling over the edge into an orgasm that makes your back arch and your vision fuzz at the edges, and you cum with a cry of his name. his hips slow and his fingers maintain a steady rhythm on your clit, but you can tell it's taking its toll on him. "where- where do you want me to cum?"

"i'm on the pill, lo. inside, baby, please," you whine, and it takes two more thrusts before logan groans, his hips coming to a shuddering halt as he cums inside of you. it's a beautiful sight, too- his eyes scrunched closed and his eyebrows drawn together, his hair a complete mess from where your hands had pulled at it. your hands run through his hair and along his back, and you patiently wait as he comes back to earth.

"hi," he murmurs, opening his eyes and smiling down at you.

"hi," you respond.

no other words need to be said. you know you love him, and he knows he loves you.

and you're both okay with that.

this took me way longer to write than i thought it would, but i absolutely love it! reminder that my asks and requests are open, and i always get excited when i get feedback! take care of urselves lovies <3

[fluentmoviequoter]

Finally Home

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!shy!military doctor!reader (r is Lucy's adopted sister)

Summary: You enlist your boyfriend Tim to help you surprise your (adoptive) sister Lucy after being deployed for several months.

Warnings: brief angst and depictions of loneliness/depression, then lots of fluff!

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Being adopted into the Chen family continues to be the best thing that ever happened to you. It didn’t help your shyness much, but the love and sense of belonging you’ve found outweigh all the bad you’ve experienced. When you joined the military, becoming a military doctor, you overcame your shyness enough to be a great doctor. However, when you stop being a doctor, you’re back to the shy sister Lucy knows and loves.

The last time you were stateside, you met Tim Bradford and fell for him quickly. During the six months you were home, Tim learned nearly everything there is to know about you, and he loves all of you.

Now, in your seventh month stationed in Europe, you look forward to your weekly call home. You call one of two numbers: Tim or Lucy. They’re always together when it’s time to answer, so you know you’ll get a chance to talk to both of them and grow shy from across an ocean. Your dog is sitting beside you as the call begins.

“Hey, sis!” Lucy greets happily when the line connects.

The picture is blurry today, but you smile when you see your sister. She’s in her uniform, in an empty office at the police station. Being seven hours ahead means you usually catch her or Tim while they’re at work.

“Hi,” you answer. “Is Tim there?”

“He’s actually on patrol,” she answers. “I’m sorry; there’s a huge problem here right now so they’ve got a ton of people out there.”

“That’s okay. How are you?”

Lucy looks up when a door opens and turns the computer away.

“I’m pretty good. I want to hear about you, though, because not much has changed here.”

“Move,” Tim demands.

You can only see his hand as he reaches for the computer, and you duck away from the camera as they compete for your attention.

“Chen,” Tim says.

“Which one?” you ask.

“The one whose badge I can take. Just let me say hello.”

“Why don’t you just sit together?” you suggest. “Not to say I don’t enjoy this.”

Tim huffs as he pulls a chair beside Lucy, forcefully turning the computer so you can see both of them. He smiles, and you forget what you were going to say.

“Any word on when you’ll be home next?” Lucy asks.

“Nothing. I’m hoping to hear something soon though. There isn’t much happening, so they’ll probably need to move me soon anyway.”

“Then they should let you call more often,” Tim comments.

“I agree. I miss you.”

Tim elbows Lucy gently.

“She meant both of us,” Lucy argues. “Didn’t you?”

You nod and look up suddenly.

“I have to go,” you explain. “I’m so sorry. I love both of you and I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.”

“I love you,” Tim replies.

“Love you, sis. Be safe,” Lucy adds just before the call ends. “I miss her, Tim.”

“I know.”

Lucy continues staring at the blank screen, and Tim asks her about something he noticed days ago.

“What’s going on?”

“I just- I’m sad all the time. I don’t know if it’s just because she’s gone because I’ve been dealing with her deployments for years, but the only thing I want, have wanted for weeks, is to see her. It’s hard doing everything without her when she’s the only person I want to share things with.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy.”

“Bradford, Chen, we need you back out there when you’re done. This crime spree is getting worse each time we try to make progress,” Wade says.

“Lets go, we’ll ride together,” Tim offers.

“Like the good old days!”

“I hope not exactly like those.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Superiors are giving you a choice,” your MC commander begins. “Transfer to Germany or temporary leave before being stationed in Fort Bliss, Texas.”

“What would I be doing in Texas, sir?” you ask.

“Continued training and teaching, mostly. And the temporary leave is only two months, but after all this time in Europe I assume you’d return to sunny Los Angeles.”

“I’d like to take the Fort Bragg position, sir.”

“Okay, I’ll let the Surgeon General’s office know. I’m sorry to have interrupted your call; video broadcast has ended, but if you’d like to make a phone call, share the good news, go ahead.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You walk into a private office, dialing Tim’s number and hoping he’s alone. Lucy has been down the last two times you’ve talked. She hides it well, but you’re her sister and can see through her.

“Bradford,” Tim answers.

“Chen,” you reply. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah, I am. What’s going on?”

“Is my sister okay? She’s seemed really sad.”

Tim sighs before he answers, “She misses you. A lot.”

“Then I need your help with something. I’m coming home.”

“When?” Tim asks. “I mean, I’ll help you with anything, but I’m so happy to get to see you again.”

You press your lips together, feeling heat rising in your cheeks.

“I should be there in a week or so, but I’ll let you know a date when I have one.”

“Okay. And the help?”

“I want to surprise Lucy. Any ideas?”

“Well, there is a restaurant she can’t stop talking about.”

“Tim? I’m going to be home for two months.”

“I get you for two months?”

“I can’t wait,” you answer sarcastically.

“Give me a date and time and I’ll get Lucy there.”

“Will she get suspicious?”

“Who do you think I am? She won’t have a clue.”

✯✯✯✯✯

A week later, Lucy has been checking her phone nonstop. She hasn’t heard from you since you abruptly ended the last call, and her concern and sadness about missing you are beginning to overflow. All of her fellow cops have noticed, so when you call and ask a few of them to meet at Lucy’s favorite restaurant to cheer her up, they happily agree.

“Get ready,” Tim demands at the end of the shift. “We’re going to dinner.”

“Why?” Lucy asks.

“Because we’re both worried and need a distraction. She’s fine, but you’re going to make yourself sick worrying like this, Lucy.”

“Okay. Give me ten minutes. Where are we going?”

“Your favorite.”

Lucy smirks as she walks to the locker room. Tim checks his phone but hasn’t received any message saying you landed.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Easy, boy,” you whisper, patting your dog over the Military K-9 vest as the plane lands.

The other passengers are kind enough to let you get your duffel bag and exit the plane first, rushing to the car rental counter and leaving for the restaurant. You’re running late, and don’t even think about letting Tim know you’re back in Los Angeles. As you park, seeing the ‘Service Animals Welcome’ sign on the door, you realize you forgot to tell Tim your dog is with you.

“Let’s go introduce you to my family.”

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you call Tim.

“Hey,” he answers. “I don’t have long before your sister shoves me over a balcony to talk to you.”

“Patio?” you ask, smiling.

“Yep.”

“I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Is that my sister?” Lucy asks, attempting to pull Tim’s arm away from his ear to take the phone.

“Tim, I have to go. I love you. Tell Lucy I said hi,” you say before ending the call.

✯✯✯✯✯

Lucy sits down, dejected. She tries to enjoy the appetizers and her friends sitting around her, but she wishes you were at the party. The door opens, and Lucy glances over before picking up her head and giving her full attention to the person walking through the door. Her jaw drops as she watches you walk toward her, a dog at your side. Lucy’s shock turns to a smile as she jumps from her seat to hug you. As you return her hug, smiling as you whisper how happy you are to see her, Tim’s hand covers yours as he takes the leash from you.

“Hey, bud,” he says to the dog. “Lucy, could I get a turn?”

“No,” she says against your shoulder.

“Hi, Tim,” you greet, turning your face away when he smiles.

“Hiding from my smile,” he muses. “Can you survive two months with me?”

“Two months?!” Lucy repeats, pulling back.

“I like your dress,” you murmur, seeing her for the first time in too long. “And, yes, I have two months of leave before I move to Fort Bliss.”

“Where is that?”

“Texas.”

“You’re staying stateside?” Tim interjects, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug, turning in his arms to hug him.

“Welcome home,” he says, kissing your jaw as his arms tighten around you.

“Thanks for helping me with the surprise.”

“I’ll always be here with you.”

“So will I!” Lucy adds.

“Are you going to fight to hug me now?” you ask.

“Yes!” everyone at the table answers.

“And you brought a dog!” Lucy cheers, lowering her hand to pet your dog.

“I love you,” Tim says, pulling a chair out so you can sit between him and Lucy.

“I love you,” you reply softly. “I have one more thing I didn’t tell you, though.”

“What?” Lucy and Tim ask together.

“The position I took is a teaching job, so I’ll have more time to visit.”

They hug you simultaneously, no longer fighting over who gets to go first. You drop your chin towards Tim’s arm and smile. When your dog puts his paws in your lap and joins the hug, you know you are finally home. Sitting at a table with the two people you love most in the world, you know the next two months will be amazing, even if you're shy the entire time.

[reds-writings]

rust cohle headcanons pt. 2

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: some more rust thoughts for public consumption. bon appetit.

word count: 1.5k ish (she got a bit carried away oops)

warnings: lil nsfw but other than that not much (let me know if there's anything else! minors get lost!)

thinking about the fact that he didn’t really have access to television until he was 17 

you get a kick out of making any pop culture references that occurred before the year 1981 because chances are they’ll go right over his head 

it wouldn’t be surprising if most pop culture hubbub wasn’t in his realm of extensive knowledge given that he really only sets aside any free time he has for reading or contemplating whatever anarchic thoughts are running rampant in his head that day 

you don’t find yourself in his apartment all that often given that it doesn’t exactly hold the vibe of something straight out of a home & garden catalog 

he also feels something along the lines of self-consciousness when you’re exposed to the eerie emptiness of his space (the printed pictures and erratically scribbled notes/diagrams he has stuck up on his wall from active cases don’t help) 

it’s not something you necessarily judge him for, it just makes you feel a twinge of sadness to see that he only allows himself the bare minimum levels of ‘comfort’ just to get by 

as your relationship grows a bit more steady he finds himself at your place more than his own anyway (he tries to do most of his work at work as much as he can the longer he’s with you so things can be more effectively separated for the sake of his own consolation more than your own)

he doesn’t leave much of a trail behind himself but to the trained eye, signs of him had steadily built up over time in your home 

a cheesy ‘don’t mess with texas’ mug in your cabinet you nabbed for him as a joke from an antique store in town or an old crystal ashtray set out on the front porch railing for when he needed a smoke (one by the window in your bedroom too for whenever you felt benevolent enough to let him smoke on your windowsill late at night)

there was also the growing plethora of his daily attire manifesting alongside your own clothes in your closet and dressers (find yourself wearing any of his stuff and he’s POUNCIN’)

a few scattered men’s products in the bathroom (he’s a straight razor kind of guy cause he seems like a meticulous self-groomer in that way and he has some hair products that would have Marty in a tizzy) 

speaking of the straight razor, sometimes you’ll be the one to throw in the flag when he’s too busy to shave (not that any stubble on him is unsexy but the smoothly-shaven feel of his face remains superior for a number of reasons) 

you’ll have him sit his butt down so you can straddle him to get rid of the culprit of the growing frictional burns on your face, neck, and thighs. a sacrifice made for the greater good.

makes for some great foreplay nearly every time (lil freaks) 

there’s also an extra pack of american spirits you keep in one of your bedside drawers for whenever he runs out or forgets his own

he doesn’t ever make a big deal out of his birthday. meaning he does everything in his power to avoid acknowledging it and just goes about his day like normal. but ever since you got the date out of Marty you never let it go by without doing something to make the day special 

this isn’t to say you cross any major boundaries or throw any huge celebrations he’d absolutely loathe 

it meant small outings to dinner (or whatever that could get him out of the house for a bit if he wasn’t working) or little meaningful gifts waiting for him whenever you had the time to see each other if he happened to be on the job

you just wanted to imprint something about the day that didn’t leave him so passive or resentful that he lived to see another year in his life. that his existence didn’t have to mean much to anyone or himself but it absolutely meant something to you 

Rust awoke in the warmth of your bed to the sight of a dreary day taking place outside. The outline of your figure on the empty half of the bed struck him only slightly suspicious. You weren’t known for being an early riser in any sense of the phrase but the smell of food drifting upstairs gave him an inclination of why you weren’t in your usual curled-up spot beside him at this hour. 

Drifting his gaze slightly, the sight of a blue frosted cupcake on his side’s nightstand with a cigarette instead of a candle stuck in it as a crude joke had the corner of his mouth quirking faintly. One way or another, it was apparent you’d find a way to make the date of his birth as digestible for him as you could each year it passed. He remembered just how offended you’d gotten around the time you first got together and discovered his birthday was coming up soon while he’d had no intention of making you aware of it in the first place. Ever since then, you’d made it a sworn mission of yours to celebrate his birthday in some way shape, or form, always keeping it small with his limits in mind. 

Making his descent down the stairs of your old home, he could hear the growing sounds of Fleetwood Mac paired with your soft humming. Once he finally rounded the corner to come into view of the kitchen there stood the vision of your swaying figure, drowning in some old Budweiser shirt while flipping over pancakes at the stove. 

“Is that you, birthday boy?” The teasing call followed by a quick look over your shoulder had him jumping slightly out of his daze.

“You feedin’ just us or a small village out in the world somewhere?” He quipped as he took in the array of food you’d managed to prepare in the time you’d been awake. 

“I was restless and didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for so I just went ahead and made a lil’ bit of everything. Whatever we don’t scarf down I can take on over to Lou’s down the road,” Was your breezy answer before you paused to point the spatula at him, “she called yesterday sayin’ she had a small somethin’ for you so when we go you’re gonna accept whatever it is with a grin and grateful attitude.” 

“Lou’s one of the more tolerable people who happens to take residence in this miserable state.” 

“Yeah, but you still get that constipated look on your face whenever someone else tries doing somethin’ nice for you. Thus my warning.” The look you had was more cheeky than anything as you finished up your last set of pancakes and moved them over to a bigger plate alongside the rest of the food. 

“No presents this year?” He hummed as he watched you busy your way around the kitchen. 

“Geez! I’ve made you greedy over the years, haven’t I? I was hopin’ to go out into town for a bit if the weather ain’t too crazy. Any presents I’ve got for you, mister, are gonna wait til’ later. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” An amused huff left his nose. 

for your birthdays Marty’s the one to help Rust in planning the bigger stuff (should you want it) given that you had a bit more friends than he did who wanted nothing more than to celebrate you and have fun

you reassured him every year that you were fine with keeping it on the simple side and just spending the day with him while just chilling out (he did not listen)

he’s very much a gift giver in the sense that he’ll be out and see something random only to bring it back home and casually be like ‘thought you’d like this’ then leave it at that

you love your little collection of gifts and trinkets from the grump

even if most don’t see it in him, he’s the biggest giver you’ve ever met 

he doesn’t seek any praise or reward for the silently selfless acts he finds himself committing for you and he carries them out as if they were all completely normal (he has an underlying thing for praise in the sheets though, don’t let him lie. he’ll crumble within seconds at any soft utterings of how good he is or how much you need him) 

you get comfortable with ambushing him with random bursts of affection every now and then later down the line and he just sits there and takes it (mans enjoys it don’t let him lie about that either) 

you’re more outwardly flirty/touchy with him in general (of course taking into account whether or not he appears to be in the mood for any of that at the given moment)

saying things like ‘there’s my dashin’ cowboy!’ or ‘the ladies of louisiana are gonna try and send me packin’ now that i’ve got you locked down!’ just to see him caught off guard 

photos of him are few and far in between, let alone of you two together, but he does find himself taking more photos of just you (innocent and not so innocent) 

he just wants to memorize any and all details of you! sue him!

a/n: just you wait until i start pulling out the sad old man rust fics cause i'm obsessed with that era too. ponytail defender til i die !

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

hi! can i request ken x (male) reader who’s from texas and breaking ken’s idea of the patriarchy (mostly the realities of cowboy life lol) thank you!!

"Now what're you supposed to be, a cowboy or somethin'? Because it looks like you're goin' to a fashion show upstate."

Blinking owlishly, Ken spun around on his heels, coming face-to-face with you. He looked at your clothing up and down, noting you had a hat similar to his, along with ripped jeans, cowboy boots, and a buttoned plaid shirt.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion, not seeing an apparent difference.

Nevertheless, he realized you were another human male who was trying to talk to him, and he was excited! This was his big chance to learn more about the patriarchy of the Real World!

But he didn't wanna let his eagerness show too much, so he leaned against a nearby pillar, keeping the books tucked against his side.

"Nah, I ain't goin' to no fashion show....partner..." He made a poor attempt at mimicking your accent, which he noted was heavily Southern, and it took all your willpower not to laugh your ass off.

Yet you couldn't help chuckling anyways, which made the blond pout as he adjusted the brim of his hat. "Awh I'm only teasin'." You shook your head. "I will say it does fit ya pretty good. Haven't seen anything like that back in Texas."

"...oh really? Thanks!" He put a big smile back on, trying to sound cool and casual. "Sounds like a fun place. I'm just here..seeing what this world's all about...getting accustomed to the patriarchy. Man, I wish Barbie told me about-"

"Hold on..." You stopped him in his tracks, being perplexed by several things he just said. "What about the patriarchy? You act as though it's a lifestyle-"

"Is it not? Because I see it all around us!" He spread his arms out. "It's incredible! Everything's backwards but yet...I'm just amazed! This world caters to us men!" Then he stepped closer, showing you the books in his hands depicting studies of horses and patriarchy, a sparkle in his eye. "Look, these books have already taught me so much!"

You blinked, taking one of them and frowning as you recognized the barcode as being from the school your cousin attended. "Ya realize you stole these from a school library, right-?"

"Back in Barbieland, we Kens had none of this stuff!!" He ignored your remark, yanking the book from your hands as he continued to babble on and on and how "awesome" the patriarchy is while pointing to a nearby horse statue.

He's acting as though this was the first time he's ever heard of it, firmly believing that it's all about men and horses.

That would've convinced you that this guy was either insane or living under a rock all his life....had he not mentioned "Barbieland", "Barbie", and "Ken".

'As in...the dolls my little cousins played with?' You pondered. 'Well it would certainly explain the outlandish outfit..and how it doesn't look like any lights are on upstairs...'

"So.." You cleared your throat, he was quick to shut up and let you continue, blinking as you offered your hand. "Before I forget...the name's [y/n]. A pleasure to meet ya."

He studied your gesture intensely, before putting forth his manliest handshake possible, his eyes lighting up when you laughed and complimented his strong grip. "And I'm Ken, the pleasure's all mine."

"Yeah, I figured."

"Well, [y/n]. You seem to embody everything a human man is, so...you got any advice for a fellow man who only just recently learned of all these great luxuries?" He raised an eyebrow.

You thought about it for a few moments, letting his hand go as your gaze went back to the books tucked under his arm. "Yeah, uh..for one, ya seem to be holdin' onto this "idea" that patriarchy's all about the horses. I hate to break it to ya....but it ain't that simple."

"....wait, it's not..?" He blinked in bewilderment, looking to the books and frowning. "Are you sure? Because these books told me-"

"They're outdated an' used for history projects at school. They don't accurately showcase modern cowboy culture, which is what ya seem to be enthralled with."

"...these don't???" His voice became higher-pitched, becoming utterly devastated that he was lied to. "But if it's not about horses..then...then what about the statues, hm? And those officers riding them?!"

"Ken..in this world anybody can ride a horse if they wanted to. You just happen to see more guys than gals doin' it."

"Oh..."

"Look, it's true that more men are in charge of stuff here in LA, but the patriarchy is really just a messy system that harms both sides." You frowned slightly. "It ain't somethin' I'd wanna idolize."

"...but why?"

You sighed, unsure of how you could possibly dumb it down for him even further. "'cuz it's turned some of my own friends and family into vile dirtbags who think the world owes them everything. I'd hate to see ya fall down that same pipeline."

He nodded in slight understanding, but seemed rather sad as he hugged the books to his chest, feeling like his dreams were shattered just as he began to realize them..

"I thought it was just like Barbieland..."

"Ya'll got a matriarchy there?"

"...I guess..? They write all the constitutions and stuff."

"And...how do they treat ya?"

"Like we're accessories." Ken huffed, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. "They aren't terrible, but...I only have a good day when Barbie looks at me..which...hasn't been happening lately. I was thinking if I could show her the cool horses and stuff...she'll see me differently. See me for the man I can be."

You never expected for this conversation to derail into you trying to resolve a doll's identity crisis, but it's clear he was holding onto the misconception that the "Real World" was just opposite of Barbieland--where men had it all here and ruled without flaw.

That was far from the truth.

"Now changin' yourself for a lady isn't what ya wanna do, son." You patted his shoulder, causing him to look up at you in astonishment. "You're good enough as you are. But I take it that deep down...ya just care about the horses?"

He nodded again.

"Then..how about instead of reading this misleading garbage--" You tapped the binder of one of the books "--ya talk to someone who's lived the authentic cowboy life? Somebody with experience?"

Looking all around, he seemed confused for a moment, before his gaze returned to yours. "Like....you?"

"Yup."

"Isn't being a man and wearing this not enough?"

"It's a wee bit more complicated than that. It's hard work. But if you're interested in that sort of life, I can tell ya all about it." You offered, smiling as you watched the grin return to his face.

"I'd love that. Now if I don't need these stupid books, then I'll just--" He went to toss the stack into the nearest trash bin, but you were quick to intervene.

"Hey, hey, hey! Ya can't just throw away school property like that!"

"...but you just called this "garbage"."

"It's a figure of speech, Ken." Sighing, you just shook your head, taking the books off his hands. "You'll learn a lot about that here. Let's just go return these and I'll tell ya all about my life back in Texas. Whatever ya wanna know, I'll do my best to answer."

Ken's eyes shimmered at the prospect of hanging out with another guy..like all the other humans he's seen. That's all he truly wanted, really--just to bond with someone and not be in some aggressive rivalry unlike what he had with the other Kens.

He's lucky he ran into you.

"Can I ask something now?"

"Sure..if it's less than ten words." You humored him.

"Do..you..own..horses..? That's four." He grinned, counting on his fingers just to be sure of it.

"I do. Poor things couldn't take the dry heat of Texas, so they came along with me in a truck. I'll show ya pictures after we return these books."

Ken nodded eagerly, unable to hide his excitement as he followed you back to the library, ready to learn more about your culture.

[thetriumphantpanda]

baby, I'm the whole damn meal

I have no explanation other than I need to find myself a dbf!Joel of my own because this man is magic. Welcome to part 6 with our friendly neighbourhood DILF. Enjoy.

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary | Joel saves your ass by giving you a ride to work, and then promises you a night you won't forget.

Word Count | 4.2k

Warnings | As ever, blanket warning for dbf!Joel being a general menace. Age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), flirting, light sexting, edging/orgasm denial, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, protected PiV sex, aftercare.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Texas Sun Playlist

You’re late. Not exactly the first impression you were hoping to make on the start of your second week at work. It was sweltering outside, which meant you’d opted for a shorter and thinner dress to begin with, then thrown it off and gone for something more work-appropriate when you remembered the archives were basically like a freezer from the air-conditioning. You said a silent prayer to your beat-up car that it’s feeling generous with you on the drive into the city and will let the aircon work, so you don’t turn up looking like you’d run five miles. 

You grab your keys and your bag and bound out of the door, straight into the back of your dad, who is stood on the porch talking to Joel. 

“Woah, careful there, kiddo,” Your dad murmurs, catching you before you can fall back on your ass, “In a rush?” 

“If I don’t leave in the next thirty seconds, I’ll be late for work,” You explain, steadying yourself on your feet, “Oh, morning Joel.” You shoot over your dad’s shoulder, as if you hadn’t spotted him the second you opened the door. 

“Morning,” He shoots back, giving his signature smile to you, which causes a blush to flush across your cheeks, “You have a good day now.” 

“You too!” You call over your shoulder, unlocking your car and throwing your back in the back seat. 

You settle into the driver’s side and turn your key and groan, because of course the engine is spluttering and refusing to actually switch on. It’s like it can sense you’re in a rush, the one morning you really need it to cooperate with you, it decides it’s had enough. 

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” You mumble, letting your forehead hit the top of the steering wheel, “I ask one thing and you can’t even do that.” 

A light tapping on the driver’s window makes you jump, but it’s just Joel. You open the door slightly, “You need a ride?” 

“I don’t want you to go out of your way for me,” You mumble, “But yeah, I need a ride.” 

“I’m headin’ into town for some supplies so it’s no trouble at all, sugar,” He speaks quietly so your dad doesn’t catch the new nickname Joel’s got for you, “You hop into my truck, and we’ll get goin’ as soon as I’ve said goodbye to your old man.” 

You’re listening to their conversation as you reach for your bag and heat to the passenger side of Joel’s truck. 

“You make sure you bring the little lady over when she’s back,” Your dad is saying, “I’ll make sure to get the grill going.” 

“I will,” Joel promises, reaching out his hand for your dad to shake it, “I’ll catch you later, old man.” 

Your dad chuckles, “Make sure she pays you for gas, Joel!” He exclaims once Joel has turned around to make his way to his truck, “It’s her own fault for not buying a new car sooner.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” He shoots a look at you through his open driver’s side window, “I’ll make sure she pays for her ride.” 

You’re stunned into silence for a while as he sits down behind the wheel and makes to pull out of your dad’s driveway. He looks over at you and shrugs with a laugh, “You okay, darlin’?” 

“Are you for real?” You scoff, “You’re a subtle as a brick sometimes, Joel Miller.” 

“I didn’t say anythin’ that wasn’t true.” 

It’s too early in the morning for this, you decide, “What were you doing over here anyway?” 

“Your dad wanted to borrow some tools for somethin’,” He answers, pulling out of your street and onto the main road, “Brought ‘em over before I went to work.” 

You nod in understanding, “And Sarah, she’s back soon, right?” 

He hums in the affirmative, letting his palm rest on your knee, “Back tomorrow evenin’, means it might be harder to see you.” 

You take hold of his hand at your knee, “We always knew that Joel,” You turn and smile at him, “We’ll make it work.” 

It. Whatever it was, you were determined to make it work. In the space of a few weeks, he’d well and truly wormed his way under your skin and settled there, refusing to leave even if you’d wanted him to. Too caught up in how he fucked you and not wanting to cause him to run off into the sunset with your conversations of commitment, you’d skirted round asking what it was that you two were doing exactly. If it meant you could keep him by your side and buried deep inside you, you’d carry on avoiding the conversation too. 

“How about you come to mine after work?” He suggests, “I don’t know, tell ya’ dad you’re going out, I’ll pick you up and I can make the most of you while I still can?” 

You think for a second about how you’ll get that one past your dad. You’d been home straight after work every night last night, staying up only long enough to eat your dinner, before collapsing into bed. And it was a Monday night, who the hell goes out on a Monday night after work? But if this was the last time you were going to get Joel, in his house alone, you were damn sure you were going to do it. 

“Alright,” You agree, giving his hand a squeeze, “Pick me up at six?” 

“I’ll be ready and waiting, sugar.” 

*

“I promise I’ll be sensible dad,” You sigh, shoveling another forkful of salad into your mouth, “It’s just a few drinks, we won’t be that late.” 

“Alright, well, if you need pickin’ up earlier, you just call, okay?” You know he only means well when he goes into protective mode, but you’re twenty-five years old and managed to live in New York City for years without any real incident, “And if your designated driver starts drinkin’ you call me.” 

You feel your phone vibrate against your ear, signaling a text, “I will dad,” You spear another bit of lettuce with your fork, “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.” 

“See you later, kiddo,” He speaks, “Love you.” 

“Love you too!” 

As soon as you hang up, you’re checking your messages. It’s Joel. He’s a man of few words when it comes to texting, only ever really using it to make plans with you to sneak around somewhere. 

Joel Miller. 

Can’t stop thinking about you. 

You smile at your desk, resting your chin in your palm as you read it over. 

Can’t stop thinking about you either. 

You put your phone back on your desk and finish your lunch. Not only is he a man of few words when it comes to texting, but it usually takes him a good ten minutes to reply. You’ve seen him texting Sarah to the point that it’s actually comical. 

Been thinking of bending you over my kitchen counter, what do you think? 

You almost splutter the mouthful of water you were drinking all over the computer screen in front of you. Was Joel Miller attempting to sext you at work? 

Dangerous thoughts for the middle of the day. But you know I like being bent over just for you. 

This time he does take a few minutes to respond. You like to think you’ve got him flustered on whatever jobsite he’s at today, shoving his phone back into his pocket and taking deep breaths so he can go back to work with a clear head. 

I know you do baby. Gonna fuck you so good later, be feeling me for days. 

That’s not much of a change Joel, I always feel you for days after. 

You grab your phone and the list of documents your manager had given you to pull for the afternoon and head down into the archive itself. You check your phone, thankful there’s enough signal for any more of his messages to come through to you. 

Might not get the chance again for a while, gotta make sure you’re remembering me for as long as possible. 

You scoff a little, as if you’d ever forget. 

Gonna be in for a long night then? 

You start pulling the documents on the list, getting three down before your phone is vibrating again. 

If you can walk outta my house, I’ve not done it properly. 

You can feel the arousal pooling in your lower stomach, goosebumps peppering your skin at the thought of him doing just as he promised. Burying himself deep inside you, pounding his cock into from behind. You can already feel the delicious ache he usually leaves you with. 

I hope that’s a promise, Miller. Now stop distracting me and go back to work. 

His reply, for once, is almost instantaneous.

Yes ma’am. See you at six. 

The rest of the day is a blur. You’re too distracted by Joel’s promises that it takes you far longer than it should to finish pulling all the documents you needed. Then, when your mind wanders to visions of the last time he had you bent over a kitchen island, you have to double check where you’re distributing them to. You’re grateful when, at six o’clock, your colleague Hanna comes up behind you, your bag in her hand, to tell you it’s time to leave. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” She smiles. 

Hanna was close to your age, which was a welcome change to the mostly older women who worked in your team. She was Canadian, moving to Austin after her degree and you’d already become fast work friends. When you exit the building, Joel is stood against the hood of his truck, one ankle folded over the over, with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Who is that?” Hanna enquires when he waves at you. 

“That’s Joel,” You smile, not able to hide the pride that this man was yours, “He’s my…. Well, I actually don’t know what he is, but we fuck.” 

Hanna’s eyes dart between you and Joel, a smirk on her face, “Damn girl, get it.” 

You both break into fits of giggles before you give each other a hug, Hanna heading down to catch the bus to her apartment whilst you practically jog over to Joel’s truck. 

“What’s so funny?” He grumbles, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Oh nothing,” You tease, standing on your tiptoes to press another kiss to his lips, “Just happy to see you.” 

You feel his hand trail down your back to grip the globe of your ass through your dress, “You talkin’ about me, pretty girl?” He growls into your ear. 

“Might have been,” You shrug, “Just showing you off, handsome.” 

“Get in the damn truck.” He says with a playful swat to your ass. 

“Yes sir.” You smirk, hopping up into your seat. 

The drive back to his house in thick with tension. He’s got his hand on your leg, much like he had this morning, but this time his fingers are gripping into the meat of your thigh. Whenever it’s safe, his eyes are trailing over your body, dark with wanting. He pulls up outside his house in no time, taking a few moments to look up the street to make sure no-one is going to notice you sneaking in through his front door. 

When the coast is clear, you grab your bag and follow him to the door. He unlocks it and pushes it open, letting you through first. 

“You hungry, Joel?” You call over your shoulder once you’ve thrown your bag next to his couch, “We could order something in?” 

You’re rooting through his fridge for something cold to drink and don’t hear a reply. Gripping the tops of two bottles of beer, you stand back up, “Hey, Joel, did you hear me?!” You yell as you’re closing the fridge door. 

“I heard ya.” He’s standing at the kitchen island, leant on his palms, with those deep, brown eyes trailing over your body. 

“So, are you hungry?” You ask again, flicking the tops off the bottles before placing one down in front of him. 

His eyes drag slowly down your body as he tips his bottle to his lips, “I could eat, yeah.” 

“What are you hungry for?” You question, “We could get pizza, or maybe a Chinese takeout?”

He shakes his head, “Not hungry for those.” He shrugs. 

“Well, what are you hungry for?” 

“You.”

Your eyes widen at his words, “I’m not even really a snack Joel.” 

He’s shifted his position to be leaning on his hip at the end of the island with his hand outstretched to you, “Sugar, you’re so wrong,” He breathes as you take hold of his hand, “You’re a whole damn meal.” 

He’s leading you to the table and gesturing for you to sit on it, “You want me to sit on there?” You ask with a snort, not sure that it’s going to hold your weight. 

“I said I was hungry for ya, didn’t I?” Joel asks with an eyebrow raised, you nod in agreement though, “Well then sit down and let me eat that perfect pussy.” 

He steadies you with wide palms on your hips as you settle your ass on the table. Of course, it holds your weight, because he built it. You remember Sarah gushing over how he’d made it a few years back. 

Joel drops to his knees after he’s pulled the chair away from the table, his hands dragging from your hips to the hem of your dress just above your knees. He’s pushing the fabric up your thighs devastatingly slowly, pressing hot kisses to each inch of new skin he uncovers. You’re leaning back with your palms braced on the wood behind you, soft gasps tumbling from your lips at each touch of his lips to your skin. 

Once he’s shucked as much of the material to bunch at your waist as he can, his hands are back on your hips, this time under your dress, keeping you in place as he drags the same slow trail of kisses back down your other thigh until he reaches your knee. He’s hooking both of your legs over his shoulders, shuffling into you a little more on his knees before you can feel hit hot breath fanning the material of your underwear which is practically sticking to your core from arousal. 

“You gonna be all wet for me, sugar?” He asks, “All that textin’ got you worked up for me?

“What don’t you find out for yourself?” You challenge, feeling your legs shake on his shoulders from the slight chuckle he lets out. 

“Would rather you tell me,” He murmurs, planting a kiss on the skin of your groin, right where the seam of your underwear begins, “Tell me how hot I made ya?” 

“So fucking hot, Joel,” You whimper as he presses a similar kiss to the other side of your underwear, “Couldn’t think straight.” 

He’s gently running his thumb along the seam of your pussy through the cotton covering your core. It’s so featherlight that if you weren’t burning from every nerve ending, you’d probably have missed it, but it’s there, and it has you bucking your hips and begging for more friction. 

“So, if I peeled these off, you’d be soaked for me, right sugar?” 

You gather what sanity is left in your brain, reaching down between your thighs to take his chin in your hand, tilting his face to meet yours, “Why don’t you fuck around and find out, Joel Miller?” 

With his eyes on yours you swear you see something snap behind his brown orbs. His hands are practically ripping the material off your body. They’re thrown over his shoulder and forgotten, just like his need to incessantly tease you when the flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe along the now naked seam of your pussy. A soft sigh leaves your lips as his tongue mimics the movement once more, this time, the tip of his tongue dipping just below your folds to graze your clit, ever so gently. 

You’re widening your thighs, baring your naked cunt to his face. He’s got his hands splayed back on your hips to keep you still, his tongue once against licking a familiar stripe, this time through your folds, stopping to flick the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue yet again, but this time with more purpose than before, more purpose that to just tease you. This man between your thighs wants to devour you. 

Joel’s hands are spreading your pussy wide, baring your entire core to his mouth as his tongue moves from the precise movements over your clit, down to the weeping entrance. His tongue swirls and gathers the slick that has gathered there. 

“God, you taste so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,” He groans into your core, taking his time to swipe his tongue through the wetness again, “Best damn meal I ever had.” 

“Joel, please,” You beg, letting your fingers run through the dark strands of his hair, “It’s not enough.” 

You can feel his mouth grin into the skin of your pussy, he licks a stripe back up to your clit before focusing on your clit, making short and fast flicks to the bud with the tip of his tongue. Your grind your hips into his face, hands gripping at the back of his head to keep him in place because this is exactly what you needed. The movement of his tongue is precise, switching from short flicks in and up and down motion, to tight circles. It’s enough to have you teetering on the edge but still not enough. You’re shifting your ass to the edge of the table, hoping that bringing his tongue closer to you will help, but it doesn’t.

“Fingers, Joel,” You demand, groaning in frustration when his movements stop altogether, “Please baby, I need it so bad.” 

“All you had to do was ask nicely.” He says, pulling back just enough to give him room to speak before you feel two of his thick fingers pushing inside of you. 

He curls them up into your pussy almost immediately, whilst his lips wrap around your clit. The pressure of him sucking on your clit, teamed with his still precise flicks, and the thrusting of his fingers inside you have you hurtling towards the cliff face of your orgasm in record time. You’re so close you can almost reach out a hand and grab it to pull yourself over the edge. Joel knows it, can feel your pussy clenching and fluttering around his fingers, and the son of a bitch pulls his fingers and mouth from you just before you can come. 

“No!” You exclaimed, looking down at him with wide eyes full of frustration, you’re pulling at his hair to try and get him to put himself back on you, “Nonononono.” You whine in frustration as he stands from his knees. 

He dips down, pressing a kiss wet with your slick to your cheek, bringing his lips to your ear, “Patience sugar,” He chuckles, hands moving to undo his belt, “Promise it’ll feel better if you wait for it.” 

Your chest is heaving, pussy fluttering around nothing as you sit and watch as he sheds his jeans, kicking them backwards to join your underwear on the kitchen floor. Then he’s tugging his t-shirt over his head. If you weren’t so angry with him, you’d be able to appreciate the broad expanse of his chest, the way the muscles of his biceps clenched whenever he moved. All you could focus on was the intense need to chase the high he’d deprived you of. You weren’t even overly bothered when he helps you stand, dragging your dress over your body to meet it on the floor with the rest of his clothes. You’re aware of the fact that he unclips your bra, grateful more than anything that it’s off after a long day. 

Then, Joel is turning you around, placing his warm palm at the nape of your neck and pushing you down to the table. Your palms are resting on the wood in front of you. You turn around and watch as he fishes a condom from his wallet, shucking his boxers off before sheathing himself. 

“Gonna fuck you so good, pretty girl,” He murmurs behind you, using one of his feet to kick gently at your ankle, causing you to widen your stance, “Promised you I would.”

You can feel the head of his cock nudging at your slick entrance before he’s slowly burying himself inside you to the hilt. You let out a whine of satisfaction at the feeling of him filling you. He pulls himself back a little before he’s slamming back into your pussy like he means it this time. He’s pounding into you so hard that your hips are digging into the table in front of you. He’s got one hand gripping the nape of your neck again, keeping you pressed down, the other gripping the meat of your ass. 

“You like that?” He asks, grunting behind you as he pulls out and thrusts back in, “Like it when I fill your pretty pussy like this.” 

Oh God, I really do, is all you can think, but the way his cock is brushing against that perfect spot inside you means you can’t talk, only let a throaty moan drop from your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ you so good you can’t even talk, pretty girl,” Joel chuckles, his point proven when he shifts the angle of his hips slightly and has you crying out when he thrusts back into you, “Gotta remember this, okay?” You nod, “Remember how well I fuck you when I can’t be there.” 

It’s desperate from here on out. He’s rutting into you like a man starved, hips beginning to stutter as he climbs towards his own climax. You think he might actually leave you hanging until the hand that was gripping your ass slips in front of you and begins circling your clit. You almost cry with relief. The circles on your clit are messy but they’re doing their job. You can feel your tight walls clenching around Joel’s cock, can hear that way his moans change when you do. Neither of you are going to last much longer, it’s just a question of who gets there first. 

Just as you think the answer is going to be you, Joel once more pulls his hand from your pussy, and you actually cry. The second time he’s cruelly denied you your release and you’re fed up. He’s always been a giver. Always made sure you finish before he does. But right now, he doesn’t seem to care. Both his hands are gripping your hips, you know there will be bruises of his fingertips there tomorrow. He thrusts into your pussy twice more, maybe three times before he’s stilling inside of you and groaning your name behind you. 

You don’t really think he gives himself enough time before he’s slipping out of you, pulling you up and around to sit you back on the table before he’s once again on his knees with his face buried in your cunt. 

“You wanna come, pretty girl?” He asks, thumbing at your clit gently. 

“Make me come right now Joel Miller,” You demand, tears dripping from the corner of your eyes in frustration, “Before I kill you.” 

His lips circle your clit again and he’s lapping at your pussy like it’s his last meal on earth. His fingers are back inside you, curling again, reaching that sweet spot inside you that has your back arching into him. 

It’s quick and it’s overwhelming when it arrives. Your whole body is convulsing and you’re calling his name out into the emptiness of the room. There’s are dark spots in your vision and the aftershocks are more intense than you’d ever felt before. Joel is slipping his fingers from you but continues pressing light kisses to your clit as you come down from your high. 

He lets you fall back onto the table for a moment as he disposes of the condom, but is back quickly, gathering you up into his arms and walking you to the couch. He lies down and settles you on top of him. He knows that he pushed you tonight, knows that the shaking of your shoulders and the tears in your eyes are because you’re overwhelmed. He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing soft kisses to your forehead whilst you recover. 

“You okay, sugar?” He whispers into your hair as his other hand rubs soothing lines up and down your spine. 

You look up at him, eyes glazed, “I am more than okay, Miller.” You mumble, letting your lips drop to his chest to press a kiss to them. 

He tilts your chin to his face, shuffling a little to capture your lips in his for a tender kiss, he pulls away, leaving barely any space between your lips and his, “Did so well for me,” He praises, “Hopefully that’ll keep you going until I can see you again.” 

You press forward and kiss him again, letting your arms circle his neck, “Seriously now though,” You whisper, gathering your strength, “What do you want to eat, because I’m starving.” 

[nintendont2502]

cant find the original post but a while ago i impulsively decided to add all 32 sburb players (betas, alphas, alternians *and* beforans) to a random name generator and then randomly mix them up - characters kept their original first name and class, and took on the last name and aspect of whatever character they took the role of. this was just meant to be a funny 1am experiment so i could laugh at the cursed results

...yeah it has lore now. i cant stop thinking about it. help.

Beta Kids:

Gamz Egbert (Gamzee) - Bard of Breath. One of the most chill guys ever. Constantly zoned the hell out. Loves clowns :0) him and his dad bond over it. Hangs out with Kari a lot over vc, where it's basically just Kari talking at him uninterrupted (the kid needs it sometimes)

Kari Strider (Kankri) - Seer of Time. Gifted kid and he won't let you forget it. Permanently lives in a sweater vest even though he literally lives in Texas. Constantly annoyed by how childish and immature his older brother is. Lectures him a lot. Lectures his friends a lot. Has 'visions of his past lives' (aka occasional memories from his post-scratch/alternate timeline counterparts). Lectures his friends about how theyre real and valid whenever they make give him shit for it (which happens a lot). Dedicated pacifist - for now, anyway.

John Lalonde - Heir of Light. Golden child. Has an over-bearing mother that constantly pushes him into learning instruments/lanugages/skills, participating in competitions and events, winning award after award. Sure, he's... kinda sick of doing things all day every day, and he doesn't really want to do any of this, but... shouldn't he do it anyway? Even if just for his Mom? Hell, he can't really complain about it, right? He has such a good life! He goes horseback riding every sunday! Sure, it sucks that he doesn't have any free time that isn't controlled by his mother, but he can deal with it. It's fine.

(Things get even worse during the three year trip when Wuh Oh! Gender crisis time! Except he can’t be a girl because he was always meant to be his mom’s perfect son, and he’s already let her down once by letting her die, right? He can just… live with this. Its fine. It's not that bad. It's for her, after all.)

Roxy Harley - Rogue of Space. Grew up living on a small island somewhere in the Pacific that her grandfather 'won in a poker game' (aka probably scammed someone out of, knowing him) - or so he says, anyway. He also used to say he got Roxy the same way every time she asked where she came from! Haha very funny Roxy definitely loved hearing that and not a real response every time she asked where she came from and why she didn’t have any parents. That was great. Her grandfather died when she was fairly young, leaving her alone on the island with nothing left of him but the small inventions he left around the place to make life easier for her. She grows up learning how to maintain them, and although she tries becoming a great inventor like her grandfather, she just... doesn't have the skill. Hacking, on the other hand - shes great at that shit! She finally cracks her final goal - cracking into her grandfathers servers - just before her friend Gamz's 13th birthday, finding mostly boring shit - expenses, customer complaints, legal threats, budgets, etc. What's mildly more interesting to her, however, is the insane amount of money (if they lived on the mainland, they'd be fucking LOADED), and a .exe file for a really cool looking game, with a note from her grandfather congratulating her on finally getting in. And hey, would you look at that? Its multiplayer! And all her friends are free - even John, who through sheer coincidence found himself with a free weekend after his tutors came down with various mysterious illnesses and injuries. It's like the universe wants them to play the game or some shit! Haha wild

Alpha Kids:

Raph Crocker (Rufioh) - Rogue of Life. The living embodiment of all those business major memes. Dude is *dedicated* to the Crockercorp brand - he's determined that one day, he'll climb the ranks and become head of the company, and hopefully lead it just as well as his great-grandfather did. He unironically wears a suit everywhere, and seems committed to sounding like a 50 year old boardroom exec trapped in the body of a 16 year old - although it isn't hard to get him to crack. As much as he pretends he has no patience for his online friends and their constant stories of 'living on a remote island' or 'living in the post-apocalyptic future' (seriously guys, he isn't that gullible), he does genuinely care about them. Besides, when you're stuck in the house all day, there isn't much else to do.

Tuna Strider (Mituna) - Heir of Heart. Trans king. Exudes pure 'disney channel older brother' energy. Shithead (affectionate). Looks up to his Bro, a famous pacifist who resisted the Batterwitch's rule with a global peaceful protest... only to be killed the moment he became too much of a threat. Yyeah. Tuna has... some thoughts about how that should have gone down - most of them involving swords. Or guns. Or both. Maybe if his Bro had a sweet katana, the world wouldn't have been flooded! Although it's too late for his Bro, Tuna has decided to take up the fight in his stead by creating his own 'sick as fuck gun-sword' with whatever scrap metal he can find in the apartment (his Bro, for some reason, didn't think to leave him any useable weapons. cringe). He's got the sword part down great, but the gun... not so much.

Vris Lalonde (Vriska) - Thief of Void. The second half of the 't4t post apocalypse chaos squad', as Tuna calls them. Girl doxxes people for fun - what are they gonna do? Doxx her back? lmao good luck with that losers - closest youre gonna get is still 400 years off. Constantly daring her friends to do stupid shit and quote, 'stop being so fucking boringggg'. it usually works on tuna. sometimes on dave. she still hasnt gotten raph yet, but *one day*...

Dave English - Knight of Hope. smooth talking mile a minute inventor who *loves* trying to 'pitch' his latest invention to his friends. its become almost a game to them, where theyll take turns bidding increasingly ridiculous amounts for an umbrella that shoots seeds ('for easy planting in the rain yknow') or a beat-boxing robot ('i dont even need to explain this one just look at it man. cool as shit'). hell, even raph gets involved sometimes, usually turning it into a shark tank style negotiation. dave swears hes keeping a tally of how much everyone 'owes' him, and claims that one day hes settling that bill. his inventions are genuinely pretty impressive, especially considering his limited resources - being stuck alone on a remote island makes sourcing parts pretty hard. he probably wouldnt even need to jokingly scam his friends in order to jokingly sell his inventions - they jokingly sell themselves. he just thinks scamming people is fun.

Alternia Rapid Fire Round lets goo

Cronus Megido - Bard of Time. relentlessly flirts with anyone of a higher caste than him in the hopes that, if he can get into a quadrant with them, he'll have more protection than he would as just a solo rustblood. this strategy ultimately fails when he flirts with a particular Serket one too many times and gets killed for it. damn. oh well.

Sollux Nitram - so so tired of everyones shit. the only person that actually vaguely got along with Cronus (because he was the only person that Cronus didn't flirt with). just wants to play his pokemon in peace man stop dragging him into drama

Damara Captor - Witch of Doom. 'curses' people. seems weirdly unsurprised when those curses actually work. after cronus' death, a rumour went around that she was the one who caused it, and she absolutely wasnt denying that shit - now no one wants to fuck with her, and those that do? well, she still has her psiionics.

Meulin Vantas - Mage of Blood. Basically the only fucking thing holding this friendship group together. Despite all the complicated as shit relationships - the friendships, the exes, the mortal enemies, the attempted (and successful) murders - Meulin somehow manages to navigate the web of relationships and keep everyone relatively stable

Jaydee Leijon (Jade) - Witch of Heart. catgirl :33. Wishes she lived closer to everyone so she could see them 33: especially her moirail!! at least she still has her lusus to playfight with

Karkat Maryam - Knight of Space. basically a tboy vampire. Used to live in the caverns, but after he realised he was a dude, he began to feel uncomfortable with how oppressive and 'feminine' the caverns were. ran away. struggles with his identity - the contrast between the typical female jadeblood standards of being caring and nurturing, and the typical alternian female standards of being violent and aggressive, leave him stuck in the middle, unsure of what to do or who hes 'allowed' to be. swings wildly between being aggressive and letting himself care about his friends. he eventually figures out that gender stereotypes are bullshit and he can care abt his friends and still be a dude. hes still an asshole though <3

Eridan Pyrope - Prince of Mind. Incredibly committed to a strict moral code - which... no one can figure out. it seems to vary wildly depending on what suits him best at the specific moment. Used to roam Alternia looking for 'criminals' to 'improve' or, if that failed, 'bring to justice' with one Serket, but after an incident involving the loss of three eyes and one arm... they arent exactly on speaking terms.

Dyrrhk Serket (Dirk) - Prince of Light. i dont know how else to say it this mfer makes saw traps. he claims its to 'improve' people - by putting them through some specific trap, it... fixes a percieved issue? even if its an issue only he can see. and if they die in the trap? well, they should have just tried harder right. they probably deserved it. he isnt even doing this out of a desire to hurt people hes *genuinely* convinced that what hes doing is helping, and thinks that this is the best way to go about it. puts eridan through one one day, resulting in the loss of his vision, and after he (finally) figured out that 'huh maybe that wasnt a good idea', he... apologises. lmao just kidding that would be too reasonable - instead he mind controls one of his friends into putting *dyrrhk* into a trap of his own design, resulting in the loss of an eye and an arm. he seems genuinely convinced that this should make them even. everythings fine now, right? he scares me just on a conceptual level

Tavros Zahhak - Page of Void. hes basically a himbo im ngl. hes tall hes ripped hes clumsy and he cant help but draw attention to himself wherever he goes - attention he *hates*. moirails with jaydee. theyre cute <>

Latula Makara - Knight of Rage. clown... despite the usual purpleblood stereotypes, she doesnt really get angry all that often - most of the time, shes just vibing. but when she *does* get angry? its always for a reason. theres always a specific goal shes fulfilling through that anger (even if its just intimidating someone into doing something). i have the least thoughts about her but shes interesting

Jaiikk Ampora (Jake) - Page of Hope. Just a funny lil guy that likes playing pirates :) all the lowbloods he roleplays with definitely want to be there and don't feel coerced by being 'asked' by a literal violetblood :)) if people die during his 'games' well that sucks but he cant exacly stop playing because of a few small accidents right? ..yyeah. hes incredibly ignorant of his position in society and how that effects other people, even if (especially if) those consequences are deadly for others. after a certain point its just easier to not know whats going on than to face all the damage youve caused right. claims he loves the ocean and dreams of living in the depths. never goes into the ocean. hes a weird guy

Equius Peixes - Heir of Life. Future heir to the Alternian throne. Determined to lead Alternia into a new era of strength, no matter the methods to get there. moirails with Jaiikk (which absolutely doesnt help the whole 'Jaiikk accidentally pressuring lowbloods into doing things for him' thing. bro has scary dog privileges with the future emperor looming behind him at all times)

Even faster Beforus speed round because you cant legally make me think about them for more than five seconds

Porrim Megido - Maid of Time

Feferi Nitram - Witch of Breath

Rose Captor - Seer of Doom

Nepeta Vantas - Rogue of Blood

Kurloz Leijon - Prince of Heart

Aradia Maryam - Mage of Space

Aranea Pyrope - Sylph of Mind

Kanaya Serket - Sylph of Light

Jane Zahhak - Maid of Void

Meenah Makara - Thief of Rage

Terezi Ampora - Seer of Hope

Horuss Peixes - Page of Life

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 41

You, Joel and Ellie make it to the University of Eastern Colorado but you find things you don't expect. A continuation of Lavender ch. 1-40 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only.

Length: 5.1K

“Don’t rely so much on the reins,” you said, your front pressed to Joel’s back, hands on his waist. “Use your legs and weight to guide her…” 

“Like squeezing?” Ellie asked, frowning. 

“Kind of,” you said. “So if you want to go right, shift your weight right a bit and press your left leg into the horse. Use the reins, too, but you shouldn’t be pulling so much as just guiding her…” 

Ellie nodded and you watched her body shift slightly, taking the horse around in a slow circle. 

“Don’t forget to keep your legs turned inward,” you said. “It’s real easy to let your knees go out, it’s more comfortable, but you’ll have better control if you keep them turned in.” 

“Right,” she said. “I think I got it?” 

“You’re looking good,” you smiled. She smiled back, looking pleased. 

“Never thought I’d be riding a fucking horse,” she said. “This is so cool…” 

“Yeah, not something I ever thought I’d get to do again either,” you rested your cheek in the middle of Joel’s back. He was warm, comfortable. You wrapped your arms around him a little tighter. 

“How’d you learn how to do it?” Ellie asked. “Was it in Texas with Joel?” 

She drew out his name, teasing him. Joel scoffed a bit. 

“She was a better rider than me when she came to Texas,” he said. “Showed me up once on a trail ride, thought I was gonna make myself look real good and it turns out she had to save my ass because I wasn’t payin’ close enough attention…” 

“No way!” Ellie laughed. “What happened?” 

“To be clear,” Joel said. “I’d have handled it just fine if I wasn’t tryin’ to pay attention to her because I didn’t know that she knew what she was doing…” 

“Oh sure,” Ellie nodded, looking skeptical. “So what happened?” 

“It was a trail that hadn’t been used yet that season,” he said. “Just out in the woods near a ranch that belonged to a friend of Tommy’s. I was leading, looking back to try to tell her somethin’ and my horse spotted a snake on the trail, freaked the fuck out, tried to throw me…” 

“Oh shit!” Ellie’s brows went up. “So what’d you do?” 

“Well I saw Joel lost the reins but the horse kept rearing back and trying to throw him,” you said. “So I took mine alongside his and got the reins and got it back down before he got tossed. It’s really not that crazy…” 

“How’d you know how to do that?” She asked. 

“I grew up riding,” you said. “My grandmother was friends with the people who lived next door and they raised horses. They were older, their grandkids lived an hour away and they didn’t get to see them much, so they liked having me around. I rode all the time from when I was about two until I left for college.”

“Well shit,” Ellie nodded. “I’ll just ride with you when things look bad.” 

“You might want Joel more,” you shrugged. “I’ve never tried to ride and shoot at the same time and I’m not a great shot, anyway.” 

“Good point,” she said. “Guess we’ll just all have to stick together then.” 

“Crud,” you sighed. “Such a disappointment..” 

Joel laughed once. 

The three of you had been riding south for more than two days now and it had been almost too easy. You hadn’t seen a single raider or infected anywhere. It’s part of why it had taken you so long to put Ellie on a horse on her own. You didn’t trust the land around you to not suddenly swell with enemies and try to swallow her. With Joel, she’d be protected. With you, you could escape quickly. On her own was too dangerous. 

But now, things felt more secure. You were so far from Jackson and any other sign of civilization that you knew there was almost no chance of infected. Raiders would be pretty useless out here, too - there was nothing to raid. You felt safe letting Ellie ride on her own for a bit. 

“Should rest the horses soon,” Joel said. “Keep an eye out for a good place to stop for the night…” 

Because the road had been easy, you’d made quick progress. Tommy had told you it would take a week to get there but you were on track to make it in just five days. 

You certainly weren’t arguing. You had no idea what was waiting for you at the university. How long you’d be stuck there. Maybe there were researchers there who were far better trained than you - people who went to actual medical school instead of learning at the hands of a military doctor because there was no more medical school to go to. Maybe the Fireflies had found someone from the CDC or the NIH, someone whose job it had been to deal with infectious disease. 

If that were the case, you had your notes. You could pass them off, talk it through with them and rest knowing you’d done what you could. You could go back to Jackson with Ellie and Joel and move into the house across the street from Tommy and Maria. You could take care of the people there as the world healed. You could have a life, be happy. Things that had felt out of reach for almost half your life now. 

If the doctors there were like you - trained to keep people alive but not in how to develop new medications or cure anything new - then you’d have to stay. But only for a while. Joel and Ellie would go back to Jackson and that would be hard but you could figure it out. Being apart for a while would be OK if it meant that you got the world back. You would figure it out from there. 

“OK but I want to use the rifle,” Ellie said as the three of you put some distance between yourselves and the horses to try to catch dinner. Joel sighed. 

“Gonna treat it right?” He asked. 

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes, exasperated. “I’ll be gentle, I’ll love it, act like I’m tryin’ to get it pregnant instead of shoot it…” 

Joel glared at her but slung the gun off his shoulder and handed it to her. 

“Hell yeah,” she smiled. 

The three of you leaned against the remains an old, dilapidated wall looking out into a field. Ellie and Joel were looking out while you faced behind them.

“You’d do well to learn this too,” Joel said, looking at you. 

“I just don’t like killing things,” you winced. 

“You know meat is from dead shit, right?” Ellie said. 

“Yes, thank you for your expertise my dear,” you shook your head and smiled a bit. “Maybe I’ll be vegetarian when we get back to Jackson…” 

“Finally gettin’ to a place where I can grill you a steak and you’re gonna stop eating meat?” Joel shook his head. “Damn shame…” 

“Got one,” Ellie said, lifting the rifle. You covered your ears and she shot. 

“Good job,” Joel said, getting up as you uncovered your ears. “Go get it, we’ll dress it…” 

“Should call it undressing it,” Ellie said, giving him the rifle back. “Undressing it from the inside even….” 

“Good to know we can make her pull the guts out of the turkey at Thanksgiving,” you said, Joel offering you a hand up. You took it. “Give you a break from the job.” 

“The fact that you’ll cut me open, pull out a bullet and stitch me up with no problem but gutting an animal is where you draw the line will always amaze me,” he shook his head a little. 

“Wasn’t exactly thrilled to fish a bullet out of you either, for the record,” you leaned your head on his shoulder and you watched as Ellie walked back toward you, rabbit held high by its hind legs. “She’s a lot like you, you know.” 

He sighed. 

“Yeah,” he said, voice heavy. “Yeah, I know.” 

You glanced up at him. 

“I like it,” you said. 

He scoffed a bit. 

“Someone has to, I suppose.” 

The three of you headed back toward the campsite, an outcropping in some rock that wasn’t overwhelmed by snow. You built a fire while Joel and Ellie dressed the rabbit and you got that oddly happy, domestic feeling in you as you did. Fuck, you hoped the Fireflies had good doctors. You didn’t want to say goodbye to this, not even for just a little while. 

Ellie fell asleep early and you sat close to Joel, the fire glowing and warm. His arm was around you and you were tucked securely against his side. 

“Really startin’ to hold a grudge against winter,” he said. 

“Oh?” You glanced up at him. 

“Real hard to get at any of your skin around all these layers,” he said. You laughed. 

“Someone decided to pick a fight instead of taking advantage of a night we had doors,” you elbowed him lightly. “And working heat. And showers.” 

“I know,” he groaned, dropping his head back against the rock. “I was a damn fool, should have fuckin’ known better…” 

“Really should have,” you teased. He tugged you closer. 

“Just make up for it when we get where we’re going,” you said. “I imagine there are plenty of doors at a Firefly facility…” 

“Test out the sound proofing on all of ‘em…” 

You could hear the smirk in his voice. You tugged the unzipped sleeping bag the two of you were using as a blanket up under your chin and tugged a glove off, lacing your fingers with his. He frowned. 

“You’re gonna freeze.” 

“You’re not the only one who wants a little more skin,” you said. He let your hand go, pulled off his glove, and returned it. His palm was warm, his calluses oddly comforting. 

“Speaking of the night in Jackson,” you said after a few minutes of sitting, quiet, just holding onto each other. “What you said about Tommy…” 

“I shouldn’t have said a damn thing,” he cut you off. “I was being an asshole, fallin’ into old habits with you, stupid shit where I try to get you to leave me because I’m scared and know I can’t leave you…” 

“You know I was only ever with him because I didn’t have you, right?” You asked, sitting up enough to look him in the eye. “Anyone I was with after you was just… It feels wrong to say it but they were just a placeholder. They were someone to keep from hurting too much because I couldn’t have you. 

“It’s not that I don’t care about Tommy,” you said. “I do. A lot. We were always friends, even before anything happened with you and me. But that’s all we were ever really meant to be.” 

Joel nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. 

“That’s how I feel about Tess, too,” he said. You frowned a little and he pulled you closer to him. “She was who I had because I was too afraid of getting hurt with you, I was who she had after her husband died. We were good friends - she was like family - but everything more… it never felt right.

“Baby,” he looked at you, his eyes deep and wide and sad. “I never said it properly but… I’m so sorry. I wasted so much time because I was so fuckin’ scared and it’s time we can never get back. I should’ve gotten my shit together years ago and instead I kept hurtin’ you and fucked up things for everyone. I never should have said what I did in Jackson…” 

“I know how you are when you get scared,” you reached up and knotted your gloved fingers in his hair, pulling his forehead to your own. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I understand it. But Joel, the solution can’t be that you leave. Even if it’s just temporary, even If you say you’ll be waiting for me. We live in a scary world. Even once we get to Jackson and settle, I’m sure there’s going to be times where I’m in danger or Ellie is or you are and you can’t run from it every time. You just can’t, this won’t work if you do. We have to be a team.” 

“I know, Baby,” he kissed you softly, deeply. “I know.” 

***

Joel suggested that Ellie try riding her own horse most of the day as the three of you closed in on the university. It would be good for her to get the experience, just in case she needed to handle a horse on her own. That was the reason he gave for it.

But Joel also really fucking loved sitting on a horse with you wrapped around him. Your arms around his waist, your legs next to his, the warm press of your face against his back when you decided to lean against him. He loved having you close like that, could have drowned in it and died happy, never worried about breathing again. 

Ellie, it seemed, took naturally to riding. Joel had enough experience himself - he’d picked up plenty you didn’t know about in the years before he made it to the QZ - but you were still the better rider and even you were impressed. She connected with the animal well, their bond intuitive and easy. But Ellie, for all her sharpened edges, seemed to do that with any living thing. 

He doubted she was even aware of it. But she’d had you wrapped around her finger for years and by the time the three of you’d made it to Kansas City, Joel was already horrified of what would happen if she got hurt or killed. Now, he knew he couldn’t lose her. Losing either of you was not an option. He’d burn the world down first. 

“Think they’ll let you keep sheep in the backyard at the house in Jackson?” Ellie asked. 

“Dunno,” Joel said. “But I changed my mind on that, anyway.” 

“Yeah?” Ellie asked. “What do you want to do then?” 

“I figure since you’re goin’ to the moon and that one,” he jerked his head back at you. “Is apparently goin’ to Paris, I’m gonna be a singer.” 

“No way!” She laughed. 

“Yup,” he said. He was starting to see signs of the civilization ahead of him. “That was what I wanted to do when I was young. Think I should give it another go.” 

“Were you any good?” She asked, pulling her horse up closer. 

“Ask her,” he nodded back toward you again. 

“He was really good,” you smiled a little. “Played some good guitar, too…” 

“Oh man,” Ellie smiled and shook her head. “I don’t know if I buy it, Doc’s biased when it comes to you…” 

“No I’m not!” You protested. “I’m a perfectly good judge of his talents and skills. He’s a good musician.” 

“Prove it,” she said. 

“Don’t exactly got a guitar on me, kid,” he replied. 

“When we get back then,” she said. “That town has hot water, I bet someone there has a fucking guitar… I’m going to save the fuckin’ world, man, the least you can do is show off those skills.”  

When you got closer to where he thought the university was, he had you and Ellie switch spots. You he could trust to run out of a situation while he provided cover for her. It was the best they could really hope for. 

“I’ll do the talking when we find them,” you said as the university loomed. “Not that they know you, Joel, but hopefully they’ll be receptive toward me…” 

Joel just gave you a stiff nod. His stomach was tight. There was something about this that made him uneasy. It wasn’t even the place, though it seemed oddly quiet for a Firefly base that wasn’t trying to hide from FEDRA. 

It was that this was the end of the journey for the three of you. There was something ominous about that, anything that implied some kind of severance or separation. 

Yes, it seemed that the three of you had decided to stay together after this point even though no one had expressly said that was the plan or why you were doing it that way. But there was uncertainty around this point. How long you would need to stay - and whether or not the Fireflies would fight to keep you if you didn’t agree. Just how long they’d need Ellie. Would they need her here for months, years, to keep drawing samples? He didn’t know how that worked, how any of that worked. What if one of you could go and the other couldn’t? Would you all stay here? Would he take you or her back to Jackson and return for he other one? What would be safest? 

“What does it mean, ‘home of the big horns’?” Ellie frowned as you came upon the entrance to the campus. 

“It’s the mascot,” Joel said. “For the football team and stuff. That one’s a kind of sheep.” 

“Huh,” Ellie said. “Hey Doc, did your school have a mascot?” 

“The Longhorns actually,” you said. 

“Hook ‘em,” Joel smiled a little. You laughed. 

“OK but like… not all of them are horn related, right?” Ellie frowned. 

“No,” you laughed again. “That’s just a coincidence. In Texas there were also the Aggies and the Raiders… Oklahoma had the Sooners. Michigan had the Wolverines. Notre Dame was the Fighting Irish…” 

“Sounds like a lot of bullshit for places people are supposed to be learning stuff,” Ellie said as you worked your way into the campus. 

“Kinda was,” you said. “A lot of focus on the stuff that brought in money, which was usually sports…”

“And plenty of people who went to college weren’t focused on the learning part,” Joel said. “Too busy partyin’ or tryin’ to find themselves to go to class.” 

“I’m guessing that wasn’t Doc,” Ellie smirked a little. 

“You would be correct,” you smiled. “I was a nerd.” 

“You’re still a nerd,” she teased. 

“Darn right,” you said. Joel winked at you. You smiled. 

Joel was starting to actively watch for signs of people but he didn’t see much - at least, no signs of people there now. Plenty of people from the past. 

There was a loud almost squawking sound and Joel tensed for a moment before he located the noise. A troop of monkeys - half a dozen or so - crossing the campus one right after the other. 

“Holy shit,” Ellie breathed. “The fuck are those?” 

“Monkeys,” you frowned. “Whatever you do, do not try to get close to one, they will quite literally rip our face off…” 

“OK but what the fuck are they doing here,” she said. “I thought they were from like… Africa and shit.” 

“Probably leftover from any animal testing labs the school had,” you said. “Or maybe the Fireflies had them… If it was Fireflies, that’s a hell of an operation.” 

“If it was Fireflies,” Joel asked, looking over at you. “Then why the fuck are they loose?” 

“Still,” Ellie said, voice still awed. “Never thought I’d see a monkey.” 

The three of you pressed on, Joel taking the lead until he found some guard posts that had clearly been abandoned. 

“Maybe we should get our guns out,” Ellie said. 

“Found the building at least,” you said, slipping off your horse. Joel and Ellie followed suit and you tied your horses off out front. 

“It’s awful quiet here,” Joel said. “Not sure what the fuck happened but…” 

You and Ellie both nodded. 

He took the lead, putting Ellie in the middle and you at the back as he went for the doors, his gun drawn. 

Inside the building, everything was in disarray. But it was a more recent disarray, something from within maybe the last few weeks, not disarray from when the world ended 20 years earlier. 

“There were doctors here,” Ellie said, stopping at a cart and picking up a vial. She held it out for you and you took it, looking it over. Joel holstered his gun and started rifling through things while you looked over the remains of the equipment. 

“Packing list,” Joel said, holding up a piece of paper. You came over and looked at it, frowning. 

“This is thorough,” you said. “Not a quick jaunt kind of thing, this is a ‘the whole operation is relocating’ kind of list…” 

“So, what, they’re all gone?” Ellie asked. “They just left?” 

Her voice cracked a little and she cleared her throat to cover it. 

There was a noise from inside the building, something clattering to the floor. 

“Maybe not yet,” you said, folding the lacking list and tucking it in your pocket. 

Joel pulled his gun back out and led the way up stairs, moving quietly. There was something behind a lab door, something banging around… He held his arm out to try to keep you back as he opened the door. 

There was a loud screech and a monkey knocked something to the ground with a metallic clatter before it took off through a broken window. 

“Maybe their research turned them into monkeys,” Ellie said. “The comic books finally came true…” 

“Stranger things have happened,” you said, starting to look around the room and see what there was. Joel went to a cork board, one covered in pins and thread. 

“Everything is pointing to Salt Lake City,” he frowned at the map. 

“That’s got to be where they went then, right?” Ellie frowned, standing next to him and frowning up at the map. “How far is that?” 

“A hike,” Joel frowned. “Few hundred miles. It’ll be easier with the horses but…” 

“I just can’t figure out why they’d leave,” you said, coming over to look at the map, too. “Relocating a lab is a bitch. I had to help a professor with it once, years ago. He was setting up some clinical trial and the drug company wanted it on their property, not the school’s and there was so much to do…” 

“Maybe the facilities there are better,” Joel shrugged. 

“Yeah,” you sounded uncertain. 

Joel heard something. He held a finger to his lips as he went to the window and peered out into  the courtyard below. A handful of men - all armed - were walking by. One laughed. His stomach clenched as he looked back to you and Ellie. Your eyes were wide. You’d heard it, too. 

He went back for the two of you. 

“The horses,” you said. “They’ll see the horses…” 

“Out the back,” Joel said. “Stay close…” 

He led the way. The men weren’t inside yet and Joel rushed you both out to the horses, scrambling to untie them from the tree he’d hitched them to. He was nearly done when Ellie grabbed his arm.

“Joel!” She shrieked, her eyes wide. He spun just in time to see a man swinging a wooden baseball bat at him. It cracked against the tree and the man scrambled for you next but Joel grabbed him, wrapping his arm around his neck and pulling back. The man struggled and strained - all dying men do. But Joel was stronger. More desperate. He cracked the man’s neck and he went limp before Joel dropped his body and he crumpled to the earth. 

He turned to face both of you, Ellie’s gun pointed straight ahead, yours aimed at the ground - he’d have to get on Ellie about where to point your fucking gun if you weren’t about to shoot it - when Ellie’s already wide eyes got wider.

“Oh shit,” she breathed, looking at his stomach. 

“Joel,” you reached for him and he looked down. The end of the bat was lodged inside him. He hadn’t felt it until he saw it. Then it was like a switch flipped. He went from feeling normal to the brutal, stabbing pain as his body was ripped open. He went to pull the wood out but your hands covered his. 

“You have to leave it in,” you said quickly. “You’ll bleed out too quick if you pull it out…” 

“Doc, the other guys,” Ellie looked at you. 

“Take the horses…” Joel began, but you ignored him, looping an arm under his and dragging him to the horse. “No, that wasn’t the deal…” 

“Joel I swear to God if you don’t get on this fucking horse I will lay down and die right here,” you snapped. 

He didn’t have it in him to fight you. Instead, he got on, about to tell you to take Ellie but you were already talking to her. 

“Get as far as you can as fast as you can,” you told her. “I’m going to lead them away. I’ll find you. Head for Jackson, but if you can’t make it, I’ll find you, OK? I’ll find you.” 

“But…” Ellie began but you shook your head. 

“You have to get him out of here, Ellie,” your voice was desperate. “You have to, you can do this…” 

“No,” Joel managed as Ellie clambered onto the horse behind him.  

“Hey!” The men shouted. 

You smacked his horse and it took off. Joel looked behind him to see you all but leaping into the saddle of your own horse, pulling your gun and shooting at the oncoming group. He saw you ride away, gun held out, as Ellie pressed the horse on. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been riding. His whole body hurt, the pain radiating out from the stab wound at his stomach. He was fighting to obey your order - to leave the weapon lodged inside him until he was in a position that he wouldn’t bleed out but it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad, the harsh, sharp wood ripping him with every sway of the horse and every breath. 

“Joel?” Ellie’s voice sounded so far away. 

You were so far away. Fuck, he should have stopped you from leaving. Who the hell knew where you were now? You should have stayed with Ellie, should have left him behind while the two of you made it back to Jackson. You could make it that far on your own, after the last week he was sure of it. 

The world tilted. 

“Joel!” Ellie’s words were louder but still far away. “Joel, we’re going to…” 

He slipped then, off the horse and onto the ground. It was cold, hard. The sky was blue. You were far away. Too far away. Why were you so far away? What if you were hurt? What if they’d touched you? What if they took you, what if they killed you… You and Ellie should always be close. It was wrong that you weren’t there… 

“Joel!” Ellie’s hands were on him. “Shit, you have to stay with me Joel, don’t leave me out here alone, please don’t leave me, please stay, please, I’m fucking begging you, I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this without you, I don’t know where I am or how to get to where we’re going, please Joel….” 

The sky was blue. The ground was cold. Ellie was close. You were gone. He wasn’t sure what happened next. 

*** 

You were a shit shot under the best of conditions. It was far worse when you were terrified and on horseback. 

But you still tried. 

The men were on foot at first and you had to go slow enough that they’d stick with you and not follow Joel and Ellie but they’d brought horses, too. And once they were on them, it was a whole other animal. 

You pushed your horse more than you wanted to, trying to put distance between you and the men. You’d have no hope of fighting them off if they caught you. There were half a dozen of them. You couldn’t shoot them all, you’d never have a chance to hit them all before someone got to you. You could only out run them. 

“Good girl,” you stroked your horse’s mane as she slowed to a trot. You couldn’t push her any harder, you could feel it. But you were pretty sure you’d lost them, anyway. “You did so good, we can take a break then we can track them down, OK?” 

You slipped off her back and started looking for something nearby that you could use to get her water. Snow was limited here so you couldn’t just melt some, but you hoped you could find a stream or something to help her with. 

Her breathing calmed and you found a river. She all but dove into it to drink and you held her reins, leaning against a tree, trying to stay calm. 

You had to give your horse a chance to rest otherwise you’d never catch Joel and Ellie, not on foot. But you wanted to move now, wanted to run as fast as you could for them. Joel had been stabbed - the image of it burned into your brain, making your chest clench and stomach knot. But the location could have been worse, it might have missed his kidneys and intestines entirely. With any luck it did. 

Not that you could count on luck. 

“Hey there pretty girl.” 

You jumped, drawing your gun and turning toward the voice. The man was leaning against a tree, not far from you, smiling. There was a knife in his hand. You held the gun out. 

“Stay back,” you warned. “I don’t want to shoot you.” 

“Do we kill her or take her with us?” 

There was another voice, from behind you now, and you spun to face it. 

Shit. 

You were out numbered. You could try shooting them but that was a sure fire way to get yourself killed. 

“Think we take her,” a third man now. Your heart pounded against your ribs. “Think James would be happy for the gift, she looks like his type…” 

“Yeah, she’s not David’s,” someone laughed darkly. 

“Please,” you said. You had to get to Joel, he was stabbed, he was bleeding, Ellie was all but on her own, you had to get to them you had to… “My friends, they’ll be looking for me…” 

“So?” The man from behind you said. 

“I don’t want to cause you trouble,” you said, backing up until you were pressed against your horse. “Just let me go on my way…” 

“Sorry baby doll,” the men were pressing into you from all sides now. “We just can’t do that.” 

One stepped forward and grabbed your gun and, in the instant before one of them started dragging you away, you’d never felt more terrified or more alone.

A/N: Eeeeeeeeeek! The trio is separated, Joel's stabbed, Doc's been taken. It's a whole thing. A whole big, exciting thing :)

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[r-i-03-17]

Hey everybody, I'm back. I haven't done one of these in a while and I was bored so I said why not I'm making another Yasammy headcanon.

WARNING: This isn't going to be like my other headcanons with individual points, but more like a short story, and this story is going to have IMPLIED THINGS, but it's not gonna be any worse than any of my other headcanons. This might not be everyone's cup of tea,and that's ok, I can make more wholesome headcanons if people want them,but the point of these, at least for me, is to portray these characters as real adults, and as such they do and talk about adult things,but I'll always give a warning on some of my more mature headcanons so people don't have to read them if they don't want to. Read the rest of my headcanons if you want, but I hope you enjoy this one.

It was a crisp and warm morning in Texas at Sammy and Yaz's small ranch home, the sun was rising, the roosters crowing, and the fresh air blowing through an open window in the kitchen. Yazmina Fadoula, co-owner of the ranch and fiance to the owner Sammy Gutierrez, woke up at 7:30 like she did every morning, to find her friend Brooklyn, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, looking exhausted.

Y: Hey, what are you doing up so early? I don't usually see you until 10:00 am?

B: Couldn't sleep, too much noise. I tried putting a pillow over my head, but the humidity was too much, so I decided to just stay up.

Y: Oh, Koda wasn't bothering you was he? (Koda is Sammy's Rottweiler).

Y: He's usually pretty quiet on his crate, but sometimes he gets worked up and wh.....

B: It wasn't the dog that was making the noise Yaz, it was you two.

Y: US? You mean me and Sammy? What were we......... 😳.

B: Yeah, you guys got a lock for your door, but couldn't soundproof the walls? Don't get me wrong, romance is good for a relationship, and I'm happy for you guys, but you always seem to do this when I'm around, idk if you forget I'm here or what?

Yaz was now thoroughly embarrassed, not only for being "caught in the act" if that's the phrase you want to use, but that Brooklyn didn't get any sleep because of it. Brooklyn noticing the embarrassment, and feeling a little guilty, tried to be comforting.

B: Hey, sorry for bringing it up, what you two do in your room isn't my business, and I shouldn't really complain.

Y: No, no don't apologize. We should be more considerate, to be honest me and Sammy are so comfortable around you, that most of the time we forget you're here. Like we never do that when my mom visits, I guess cause we're afraid of being caught, but with you I guess it's just not as worrying, idk why? Like you're the only one that's ever walked in on us, yet all we did was get a lock.

Brooklyn felt a little weird but also a little endeared about what Yaz said to her, like it was a little awkward, but it also felt nice that Yaz, the definitely more shy and reserved of the group, had been this open with her, especially about something as sensitive and personal as what they were discussing.

B: I appreciate that Yaz, a little weirded out, but glad that you trust me enough to be open about something personal, that means a lot.

Yaz smiled at her and threw on her baseball cap and grabbed the truck keys, while calling Koda to take him in the vehicle with her.

B: Where are you going?

Y: Off to talk to a buddy about soundproofing the walls, might as well since I'm going to work later anyways.

Brooklyn looked at the girl getting ready to walk out the door, and noticed a purple-ish mark on the back of her neck, about the size of a baseball.

B: Looks like Sammy really did a number on you, considering the size of the hickey on your neck.

Y: You think that's bad, wait until Sammy gets up, besides I'll just put my hair down and nobody will know the difference.

Yaz left and about half an hour later Sammy came out, and the entire back of her neck was basically one giant bruise, and it took Brooklyn every ounce of self control to not laugh while Sammy was talking to her. Her short hair covering nothing like Yaz had the luxury to. Luckily Sammy worked from home and didn't have to go anywhere, and that was a blessing and a curse while Brooklyn explained the conversation her and Yaz had earlier, and where Yaz had driven off to.

That was the last time Brooklyn had stayed at the ranch before she died, it was a bitter blow for the entire group, but for Yaz it hit especially hard. So when nobody was around, Sammy inside cooking or sleeping, Yaz would go out on the porch at night, and cry. She would cry for her lost friend, and laugh in the middle of the sobbing thinking about the memories, the last time she stayed at the cabin (the story above) being one of her favorites. Yaz did this for a while in secret until Sammy and Koda caught her one night, both of them seeming to know exactly what was wrong. Sammy holding her and rubbing her back, and Koda laying his huge head on Yaz's lap so she could pet him. Mourning they're passed friend, but growing slightly closer together.

Hope you enjoyed it, see y'all soon

[spidervee]

Hello there! If your requests are still open, maybe the Top Gun men with a short! reader

not me, a short!reader, completely being self indulgent 🌻💛 hope you enjoy, love! 18+ only; fem!reader, some sexual stuff, but mostly fluff!

jake “hangman” seresin

can you say size kink?

jake loves that he’s taller than you, that he practically towers over you and he cannot get enough of caging you in between his arms while you’re pressed against a wall

takes you home to Texas and loves that he has to pull out the little portable stairs for you to get on your horse because it’s what he used for the local kids when he was fifteen and teaching horseback riding to make some extra cash

when you move in together, he’s always picking you up and setting you on the kitchen counter so he can stand between your legs and kiss you

he’s got a mouth on him so he’s not above making little jokes like “hey baby, since you’re already so close to the ground…wanna get on your knees for me?” (you may swat at him, but then your knees are digging into the carpet so quick)

bradley “rooster” bradshaw

when he first saw you, it was at a little donut shop with a walk through window and, admittedly, the damn thing is set up like every customer is an NBA player, but your chin barely scrapes the counter and he can’t help but to laugh from his place in line behind you

buys you the prettiest heels to wear and makes you keep them on in bed

helps you in and out of the bronco, always—and we’re not talking just holding your hand and guiding you down. No, he’s full on hands on waist lifting you, giving you a little spin, and then setting you down all soft and kissing the top of your head

when you’re pregnant? forget it? the man thinks you’re the cutest little thing in a daily basis but with that belly? Bradley doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how good you look carrying the baby the two of you made

teasingly uses your shoulder as an arm rest until you take to tickling him every time he tries it

mickey “fanboy” garcia

you’re short, sure, but as Mickey has learned over the years, you’re feisty as hell

he hates that people tend to try to take advantage of you because you’re short and sweet-looking, but he also secretly enjoys watching the looks of shock when someone (usually an old, tall, white dude) tries to cut you in line at Starbucks or leers at you and you snap at them with a few choice words

loves keeping you tucked up into his side and being the big spoon but he knows that you also enjoy being the big spoon so he gives you your turn

when he comes home from deployment, you wrap yourself around him like a koala and he wouldn’t have it any other way

calls you yoda “because you’re so little, amore.”

robert “bob” floyd

Bob is super tall and overall just large, so much so that your taller friends teasingly say they hate you for pulling him because “what about us?”

your feet don’t touch the ground when you’re sitting at the bar at The Hard Deck and Bob always gets a good little laugh out of that (bonus: you generally just like sitting on his lap because it’s an excuse as to why your feet are dangling

javy “coyote” machado

you love to tackle him whenever he gets home from deployment, just straight up clotheslining him as he comes in the door, but you’re not quite strong enough to tip him over

of course, javy knows this and just pulls the both of you to the ground anyway, where he proceeds to tickle you

you’ve gotten used to climbing the counters at your apartment to reach the high shelves. when you start dating javy, he literally builds you a step-stool so you don’t have to go acrobatics to reach the wine glasses

[lost-in-time-marie]

For the first time since we met in Oregon, ever since I left Texas, you feel very far away. You’re avoiding me and I don’t know why. I wonder if you’ve changed your mind. I tell myself over and over again that’s okay, I practice it exactly as I’ll say it to you when you finally admit it. You got a haircut two weeks ago and I didn’t know, new lights in the office. You forget to call me and we never talk longer than a few minutes. But your sister says you’re much more responsive and she’s not mad at you anymore, you’re playing video games with your friends again, so then it’s just me. I don’t know why you’re still coming to visit then, to collect your shirt and return my things? To talk to me in person? You probably would insist on doing things right, ending things right. Jana says there’s another reason you’re acting this way, but maybe that’s just what you’ve told her, so she couldn’t spill the beans to me prematurely, so she wouldn’t be upset with you. Maybe Alice moved back after all and you did tell me you might have loved her. She would be easier, she’d live close by, she parties with you and your friends, a much better fit than me. I’m just not a good fit and the truth of it weighs my heart heavy. I just never made sense anyway, it was all forced and bound to come crashing in the end. “Honestly,” I ask myself, “who didn’t see this coming?”

~K.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Don't You Forget About Me

Part One

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Description: Sometimes the most unlikely encounters with people have an immeasurable effect on your life. For Bradley Bradshaw, life at 22 right after graduating from college is far different than he ever thought it would be. It kind of seems like his whole life hasn't gone according to plan. No parents, no support system, just one man and his dad's old Bronco against the world. A chance meeting with a blond-haired teenage menace in Texas may just change everything, shaping his future in a way he never would have expected. Disclaimer: This is a Hangster story -> What you see is what you get, folks. Slight mention of homophobic/ lgbtq+ phobic family members. Word Count: 3624 Author's Note: Hiya! I wrote this fic for @roosterforme's Top Gun Rocktober Event based on the song Don't You Forget About Me by the Simple Minds. Everything about it just screamed Hangster when I listened to it again. As anybody who knows me or has read my works can surmise... I can be quite long-winded so what was supposed to be a quick blurb turned into a short two-part series. I hope you all love this fic! (Also I'm self conscious about this one because I do not write in first person. It's surprisingly hard so I'd love any feedback if you've got it!)

It's dark and smoky and loud in here and I can't believe that I let Jessica and David drag me to this party. They've long since disappeared into the crush and left me on the under-stuffed chintz armchair in some frat house’s living room. It doesn't help that I haven't been to Texas in years and I feel even more like I’m out of my depths because of it. My mom grew up here, and most of her family is still here. But she's not. In the years since I graduated from high school, I've turned hundreds of times, looking for her sweet smile, searching for her to take solace in. But she's not exactly on this mortal plane anymore. Neither of my parents are. And the closest thing I've ever had to a dad fucked off after destroying my dreams.

It fills me with an unreasonable rage every time I think about it. I know Virginia, I've lived in Virginia for years, putting myself through school in Charlottesville while working single-mindedly to get into the US Navy. I’m so close to flight school that I can taste it. I just need to get through Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island now that I’ve graduated. One final summer of building my savings by working odd jobs and I’d be free. Or so I thought.

Then, I received a notice telling me my apartment building needed to be tented for termites. My lease was only valid until I left for OCS, anyway. I debated living out of my dad's car, now mine, until I had to be in Rhode Island. That’s when I received a letter from Stephanie Williams, my mom’s cousin, inviting me to spend the summer in Texas. Driving to Texas is far from convenient, but I haven't spent any time around my family, no matter how distant they may be, in so long. And, I’m kind of homesick - homesick for the sense of camaraderie, of walking into the house after baseball practice or school and hearing anyone in the house besides myself.

Jessica and David, Stephanie’s kids, are as nice as their mom. They both attend the University of Texas, but it still feels like there is a distance between us. They can't understand the drive burning in me about the Navy, how I need to do well at OCS, how I need to become an aviator, how I need to be better than anyone else. Aunt Steph doesn't really get it either if the way she practically pushed me out the door when Jess and David mentioned the party is any indication.

It doesn't help that I'm only a week from reporting to OCS, either. I know it’s not flight school, not yet, but I know I need to study more than I need to be in this stupid little ramshackle frat house on Greek Row. The beer’s watered down and warm, tasting like piss in my mouth. Normally, I’d be right in the center of the makeshift dance floor grinding up against the scantily clad girls in sight, most of them wearing bikinis, but not tonight. 

I just want to go home again, but that’s not possible. It hasn't been for years. I leave the mostly full beer behind and search for Jess and David. There are hundreds of drunk kids in the house, and it doesn’t matter at all that I’m taller than most of them, not when people are dancing on the tables and licking alcohol off of each other. I feel like I’m suffocating. The entire house stinks of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and sweat. It takes fifteen minutes to look for either of them in the basement. When I’m halfway up the stairs, I’m tempted to leave them here and drive by in the morning to get them. But Aunt Steph would hate that.

The first floor is even worse than the basement. There may not be anybody dancing on the tables, but there is far more clothing being thrown about. It looks like there’s a drunken orgy happening in the living room on the floor. The carpet isn’t all that clean, to begin with, and add bodily fluids to it, and I nearly hurl on the spot. 

If this is what I’ve missed out on in the traditional college experience, well, I don’t want it, not at all. Thankfully, I don’t have to see either of my cousins naked and that eliminates the kitchen and living area entirely. All I have left are the bedrooms above. Just walking up the stairs, I can hear the creaking of bedsprings and lusty moans. It sounds like a contagious disease waiting to happen, and I don’t make it past the top step.

That’s it. I can’t search for Jess or David anymore and I fight my way to the front door while trying to ignore the tits that seem to get shoved into my face every few steps. As I open the door, a body slams right into me. It’s a kid, gangly and blond, knobby shoulders protruding sharply through the fabric of the worn t-shirt he’s wearing.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” I can’t help the chuckle pouring out of my mouth. I’ve got at least 8 inches in height on him and I could easily break him into two if I wanted to. He must be ninety pounds soaking wet and his indignation is about as intimidating as an angry chihuahua. But I’m not looking for a fight, so I just move out of the way. Something about his angry green eyes and how they glow in the fresh night air is oddly captivating. I’m honestly not expecting to see him again, but just as I reach the Bronco and open the door, I see the same person get bodily chucked out of the house.

He’s shouting expletives into the night air, and when his anger runs out, he hunches his shoulders and stomps in my direction. Of course, a snarl rips out of his mouth the moment he sees me.

“What, asshole? Haven’t you seen someone get kicked out of a party by a bunch of dicks before?” 

“I have, kid. But I wanted to know if you were okay. Your knuckles look rough.” It’s true. His knuckles are bloody and bruised like he’s been punching something hard with no control. Those are going to sting like a bitch in the morning.

He snorts and must see something unassuming in my face because he uncrosses his arms and says, “I’m not a kid, I'm seventeen.” He’s a little young to be running around the UT campus and getting thrown out of parties, but I have the feeling if I say anything, he’ll probably just jump down my throat again. “I’m Jake.”

“Bradley.” I grin back. “Get in.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I don’t get into cars with strangers.” He’s quick-witted, that’s for sure.

“No.” If my eyes roll as I look at Jake, that’s just between him and me. He must feel like shit if he hasn’t called me out for it yet. “I have a first aid kit in the glove box. I wanted to look at your knuckles before they scab over.” Jake looks shocked. I can almost see the gears grinding in his head as he thinks my words over.

“Move over.” I have to hide my grin until he’s safely in the passenger seat. I don’t know why it feels like such a victory, having this stranger accept my help. I leave the door open and lean in. He smells coffee and spice with an undertone of musk, sitting in my passenger seat with his eyes looking far too green in the low light.

“You don’t go to UT, do you?” Instead of responding, I just pop open the glove compartment and tug out the med kit.

“So what is this, Bradley?” He sounds disgruntled. “No answers without you taking care of my hands?”

I just hold my hand out until he puts his into mine. It’s a long-fingered hand, thin and bony. No well-fed eighteen-year-old boy has hands that look like this. Hands that look like they’ve been working every day of their life. I want to know why Jake’s got such a big chip on his shoulder and why someone so young has hands that look so worn.

“I’m really alright, you know?” I’m as gentle as I can be, patting at scraped knuckles with an isopropyl alcohol soaked cotton ball. Jake may talk a big game, but he’s wincing with each word. 

“Who’d you punch to fuck up your knuckles so badly?” 

“My asshole ex-boyfriend. He was cheating on me with one of his teammates. And I just found out today.” Jake’s voice chokes on a sob, and I can’t help the twinge of sympathy that goes through me at his words. Maybe I’m too quiet, because there’s a sharp tug on my sleeve.

“D’you have a problem with that?” Jake’s glaring at me, and it takes me longer than it usually would for me to figure out why.

“About the fact that you had a boyfriend?” He nods, the movement jerky and sharp. “Why would I care about that? You love who you love, that’s it.”

He looks blown away by my immediate acceptance of who he is. But Jake seems uncomfortable at the same time, uncomfortable enough that he changes the subject. “You never answered me earlier. You don’t go to school at UT.”

“No, I don’t.” I collect the trash into a small ball and put the kit away again. It feels weird to stand out in the night and talk when I have a perfectly good driver’s seat right on the other side of the car. I can already see a hundred questions on the tip of Jake’s tongue, so I hold one hand up and point to the trash bin nearby. I can feel every bit of his gaze on my back as I lope to the can and back, opting this time to get into the driver’s seat. Of course, no sooner am I buckled in, Jake’s looking right at me.

“Why are you here, then? Why were you at that party tonight?” I can hear the naked curiosity in his tone.

“I’m staying with some of my mom’s family over the summer. A couple of my relatives go to UT for school and invited me to the party. I just graduated from college and I’m joining the Navy in a week.” It sounds so real as I say the words. They sound equally real, it looks like, to Jake.

“Why the Navy?" I haven't felt like I'm the focus of another person in a long time. I feel flayed open, horribly, uncomfortably, seen.

My voice is quiet, a little rough, a little raw as I say, "My dad was in the Navy."

"What did he do?" I blink a little, not expecting this question so soon. Normally people want to know why my dad was in the Navy, in the past tense. They want to know what happened to him. They never want to know what he did or anything else about him.

"He was a Naval Aviator, a Radar Intercept Officer, to be specific." It makes me smile, like always, remembering my dad.

"What does a Radar Intercept Whatsit do?" Jake's nearly open-mouthed in the passenger seat, body turned my way in a jumble of limbs that looks nearly too cramped to be comfortable, beat up sneakers on the floor and wholly fascinated by every word pouring out of my mouth. That's unique too. I've never felt this rush, this instant connection before with anybody. 

"A Radar Intercept Officer," I repeat, earning myself an eye roll, "is the person sitting behind the pilot. They're responsible for enabling communications with ships and other jets, navigating and monitoring the radar. Pilots fly the plane, but RIOs do everything else." 

"Sounds boring." I have to chuckle at that, because when he's not angrily grumbling, Jake's actually handsome. And that's not a realization I ever wanted to have about a seventeen-year-old I just met. Forget the place, there's the matter of how this is all the wrong time, too. I can't afford any distractions, not even cute little twinks with more attitude than sense. I'm joining the military for fuck's sake. Don't Ask, Don't Tell is still very strongly enforced and Jake seems like the type to bulldoze his way on base one day just for the hell of it. Better stick to talking about flying, that's all. And that’s if we manage to stay in touch until he’s actually legal, too.

"Do you want to become a RIO too?" His voice is hesitant as he sounds out the acronym.

"Nah, I've always wanted to become a pilot. Actually fly the planes, y'know?" I swear I can see literal fighter jets flying around Jake's head, he's so enraptured by the idea.

"Is it hard?" 

I have to shrug at that, because maybe I just have flying in my blood. "Not any harder than learning how to drive or ride a bike - at least that's what it was like for me."

I can see Jake think of a few hundred more questions, but stop him with one of my own. "What’s a seventeen year old doing at a UT frat party?" 

 His nose crinkles, "Who said I’m not a student at UT?"

"Nobody. But something about you tells me that you aren’t a UT Student, even though seventeen-year-olds join universities as freshmen all the time." I’m almost afraid to see that look on his face. But instead, Jake seems to be feeling the same awe that I was earlier - horribly, uncomfortably, seen.

“Nah. I work at one of the coffee shops on campus.” No wonder he smells like cinnamon and coffee.

"But you don't want to, do you?"

His nod is sheepishly affirmative. "My uncle says I should get out of the house and do something with myself over the summer. If he had his way, when I graduate in a year I’ll be doing the same thing. But I want to do something exciting, not farm work or work in a factory or hell, even be a barista anymore. I think the Navy might be just the thing."

I have to grin at his enthusiasm. But a part of me can’t help wondering if the reason why Jake is so interested in escaping Austin is because of something else. But I’m not quite sure how to broach the topic. It’s silent and still in the car for a little bit. Jake looks like he’s thinking of what to say, and I’m struck by the halo the streetlight we’re under makes around his hair. He’s pretty, indescribably so, even with a purplish bruise rising on his cheekbone. His long lashes shine golden against the freckles dotting his cheekbones. I reach for the polaroid I always keep in the car and snap a couple of quick pictures. I hand one to Jake, but just as he’s about to ask me why I did that, I see red and blue lights in the rear view mirror and hear sirens blaring our way.

“Shit! C’mon, Bradley! Drive the car!” It takes me a few seconds to process what he’s saying but when I do, I put the car in drive and drive sedately down the street. 

“What the fuck, Brad!” I haven’t heard anyone call me Brad in years. That’s what my mom called me, what Mav did too. “Drive a little bit faster, why don’t you?! You keep driving like a fucking turtle and the cops will catch us in no time flat!”

“I’m driving at the speed limit.” I chuckle at the way Jake grumbles under his breath. “The police won’t pull us over if we’re doing everything right. You probably don’t want them calling your folks to tell them you were at a party, underage where alcohol was being served and an orgy was happening on the living room floor, now do you?”

We’re thankfully able to leave the scene without any trouble, and I let Jake direct me through the late night Austin streets. It’s quiet, and in the half-light I can’t help noticing how incredibly small and delicate Jake is at this moment. He has me pull over a few blocks away.

“Do you make a habit of running from the cops?” He laughs at that, a genuine belly aching infectious cackle bursting out of his mouth.

“No, I don’t.” Something dark glows over his eyes just as easily as the laugh. “My uncle wouldn’t have been happy at all if he had gotten that call.”

I really don’t know what to say to that, so I just wait.

“My mom always says that she doesn’t know who my dad was, and well, I don’t know if you know much about conservative Texans, but that was a no-go for most of my family. She’s out of state, working in a library in North Carolina, I think? And I’m with my aunt and uncle until I turn 18.”   

“I’m sure the minute that happens, I’m going to get kicked out. They didn’t approve of me just because I was born out of wedlock. They hated me even more when they found out I wasn’t exactly only into girls. My mom doesn’t know how bad it is for me here. And I’m not going to tell her either. I just don't know what to do.” He sniffles, sitting in the passenger seat, cheeks pinking in the glow of the streetlights. “I don’t really know why I’m telling you this either. But it feels like the universe wanted us to meet tonight. It feels like I can trust you.”

I’m struck dumb by those words and the butterflies swarming in my stomach. I’m flattered by his trust. It has me spilling all of my biggest secrets. I tell him more about my dad, about mom, about Mav. I tell him about my biggest victories and darkest regrets. We talk for hours, taking turns baring our souls until the sky turns gray at the edges. It's the small hours of the morning, that small section of the twilight zone where everything feels extra still. My throat is scratchy and my eyes are dry. Jake’s not much better.

The sleepy drawl in his voice makes shivers trail up and down my spine and it’s still so foreign feeling like this for someone I’ve just met. It’s a little terrifying, too. Far too soon, we’re pulling up in front of the party house. 

"I should get going." A part of me wants to stop him, offer to give him a ride, anything to stay in his presence just a bit longer. But the more rational part, the one chanting US Navy and Top Gun is screaming just as vehemently no.

"Do you need a ride?" My voice is nearly too loud for this time of night.

"Nah, Bradley. I live right around the corner." Jake gives me a two-fingered salute and begins to walk away, his shoulders bowed and looking incredibly small. It's a surprise when he stops, turns back around and jogs back to the car. He flings the door open, and I'm surprised to see the two spots of pink high up on his cheeks.

"Can we stay in touch? I'd love to pick your brain about the Navy, sometime?"

I'm nodding before my common sense can speak, ignoring the insidious little voice that says, "No you won't ever see him again. You're joining the Navy."

I hand Jake a pen and a scrap of paper I found in my pockets. What I get back is his first name and a phone number. "This is my landline. See you around, Bradley?"

My reply is too quiet as I roll the syllables of his name over my tongue. By the time Jessica and David have staggered their way out to the car, I'm sure Jake was just a figment of my imagination. Two weeks later, when it's my first turn with the phones on base, I call that number. I get a message telling me that the phone number I'm calling has been disconnected. I never get rid of that note though. It's almost like something's screaming at me to remember Jake. Maybe one day I'll find him again. And who knows? Maybe he's a lot closer than I think he is.

Nine Years Later

It’s been a long road getting to Top Gun. Walking through the halls it feels like everything I’ve worked and struggled for has finally paid off. I’m a pilot, I’m talented, if I do say so myself, and there is nothing I want to do more than finally put the Bradshaw name on that trophy. Walking into the classroom that first morning, I feel like this is the start of something great. Until the first hop later that week. There’s a blond in class with an ego that cashes checks for money he doesn’t have. But he has the skill to back up his words.

“Rooster, Rooster, Rooster. Are you ever going to get off your perch?” Hangman. Even his callsign fills me with rage. I’ve never met a more annoying person in my life. But there is something about him which seems familiar. Why does Hangman of all people seem so familiar? It’s a puzzle I can’t devote any time to solving. Not when I have to knock a blond idiot down a few pegs. I wonder what the Jake I met all those years ago would think about Hangman. I hope he’s doing well, wherever he is.

Taglist:

@chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @mayhemmanaged @desert-fern @cassiemitchell @dakotakazansky @roosterforme @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @sarahsmi13s @horseshoegirl

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[exhuastedpigeon]

Han's far too long "I got covid for the first time and haven't felt the house in 6 days Buddie fic rec list"

This rec list is a combo of fics I read for the first time in the last week & fics I reread because they're wonderful and I needed comfort through my fever.

Break Glass in Case of Emergency by Beforeastorm 2,894 words || teen

Eddie’s mind wandered to the red folder, tucked high up in the back of his closet. He recalled back to a conversation he had with Buck, almost a year ago at this point: “It’s an insurance policy; a break glass in case of emergency. A trump card.” “One I really hope we’ll never have to use.” “But if we have to, we’ll be really glad we did this.” When hospital policy doesn't allow Chris, as an unrelated minor, to visit a comatose post-lightning strike Buck in the ICU, Eddie has a solution. Unfortunately, that involves sharing some pretty personal information in a waiting room filled with the 118.

Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania 3,964 words || Teen

When he gets home for the night, Buck turns to the one source of information that’s never let him down: the internet. He gets as far as opening his laptop and pulling up a web browser, and then he stalls. His homepage, for years now, has been Wikipedia. He doesn’t know how exactly he’s supposed to wiki-search “Is my best friend into me.” It’s not like he really does social media, either. Ever since he bailed on dating apps, he’s sort of tried to avoid other people online. He likes people in real spaces so much more. But where does one go for relationship advice from complete strangers online? Which is how, ten minutes later, he finds himself on Reddit with a shiny new account and username. It takes him a while after that to craft his question for r/Relationships, but he thinks he’s got it pretty accurately conveyed before he hits post. Hi, I’ve never made a Reddit post before and I’m not 100% sure what I’m doing but I need advice and can’t ask anyone in my real life. So, I [30M] have this best friend [34M]…

i got all my sisters with me by ipretendtobesane 6,766 words || teen This fic is so fucking soft and sweet. It quickly joined the ranks of my favourite Buddie fics I've ever read.

Soph to Eddie Hate Club: Hey guys! This is Alex, Sophia’s been a little out of it since Nina was born (she’s doing great, just in some pain and y’all know how weirdly woozy she gets on medicine). Combine that with a lack of sleep, and…well Y’all get it. Anyway, Soph and I wanted to host you guys next weekend. Adriana to Eddie Hate Club: YES I’m packing my bags right now Eddie to Eddie Hate Club: Are Buck and Chris invited? Soph to Eddie Hate Club: I will take any excuse to see that man up close and personal “Hey, Buck?” “Hmm.” “What do you say about a trip to Texas?” (or, eddie's sister has a baby, buck meets the diaz girls, and they're sickeningly in love for nearly seven thousand words)

knock on your door, just like before by rowan_wood 7,513 words || teen

“Here,” Buck had said, practically shoving his phone at Eddie once Eddie had said hello to both Buck and Chris and settled into a chair at the dining table, “I wrote down everything so I wouldn’t forget.” Eddie looked curiously at the screen to find Buck’s note app open to a long, long list of messages. There was a grocery list of things he needed at the top, but it soon devolved into any thing or thought that Buck had while Eddie was gone that he, apparently, wanted to tell him.  or: whenever Eddie's away, Buck writes him a new note, and Eddie pines.

you can start a family who will always show you love by fleetinghearts 8,185 words || Teen

“Yeah, yeah, he’s—he’s my kid, he’s my kid,” Buck tells her, tripping over his words in the effort to get this whole process to hurry the fuck up so he can see Chris. There’s the sound of something hitting the floor from behind him, followed by what might be plastic bouncing off the shiny hospital tiles. The person at the desk looks up in surprise, over Buck’s shoulder, and he turns to look too. Eddie’s standing there, Styrofoam cup rolling at his feet, coffee splattered all down the bottom of his faded blue jeans. The plastic lid of the cup skitters over the tile before coming to a stop a few feet away. He looks like someone punched him in the gut, absolutely shellshocked, something Buck can’t quite read behind the startled expression on his face. or, buck's looking for something, and the diazes let him know he already has it

still by brewrosemilk 9,368 words || teen This fic actually ruined me. I full on sobbed reading it.

For the first time, Buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. Dirt to dig at. A door to break through. Something. There’s nothing. “Your guess was correct, Diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “You’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. Don’t shift. When you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it."  Inspired by Castle, S05E22: Still

brick by spqr 10,154 words || explicit 

The first thing Buck noticed when he walked through the door was the smell of plaster and wet paint. There was a white spot on the wall in the living room, primered but without any color yet, about the size of a man’s fist. Eddie looked sheepish. His knuckles were still bruised, scabbed over but healing. “You were in a coma,” was all he said. “Yeah,” Buck agreed. He knew the feeling.

things you don't say reach me somehow anyway by sibylsleaves 14,279 words || Teen

He writes CHRISTOPHER at the top of the page in capital letters. Underneath it goes BUCK. Then PEPA, CARLA, CHIM, HEN and so on until he has fifteen names listed out. Fifteen people to show his appreciation for. He starts with the easiest name first. or, Eddie tells the family he chose how much they mean to him. All of them except one.

let's build this house (into a home, baby) by withmeornotatall 24,478 words || explicit 

This fic is so good. Different first meeting, but the same wonderful friendship. Christopher is a national treasure. It's a prefect fic.

"Hey, buddy!" he calls out with a grin. "Did you know that octopuses actually is the correct plural form of octopus not octopi?" "Cool." Chris smiles, but it fades just as soon as it appears. Buck dog-ears his page and sets his book down. "Everything okay?" he asks carefully, crossing to the fence. "Yeah, I'm just hungry." Christopher sighs. "Dad burnt dinner. Again." Buck glances through his open back door to the dining table with three mismatched chairs, and bites his lip. He's got no excuse today, the evening sun leaving him lethargic but not exhausted, the hour reasonable. "Hey, I've got an idea." Buck winks at Christopher. "Stay there, okay?" Buck grabs his beer, book and folding chair, setting them just inside the entrance. He makes his way to the front door, stopping at the hallway mirror to fix his curls into something a little more presentable, and walks the few yards down their adjoined porch to Christopher's door. With a deep breath, he raises his hand and knocks. The door swings open a few seconds later, and Buck's mouth goes dry at the sight that greets him (OR: the buddie neighbours au no one asked for)

i see you in my sheets (i see you in my sleep) by elless 24,981 words || explicit 

Eddie kisses him in the kitchen. Bright morning sunshine spills in the window over the sink, picking out the golden flecks in Eddie’s eyes. He cradles Buck’s jaw with one warm palm, and Buck freezes for a moment, startled, before surging against Eddie. He’s still holding a hot mug of coffee that he barely fumbles onto the counter without dropping or spilling all over his shirt. He rakes his fingers into Eddie’s hair and reels him in closer, Eddie’s firm thigh slotted between his. “Eddie,” he pants as Eddie scrapes his teeth down his throat and sucks on the spot over his racing pulse. Eddie hums as he rucks Buck’ve done just about everything else two people can do together; maybe this was always inevitable. OR Buck and Eddie are FWB, act like boyfriends, and are suuuuper dumb and oblivious about everything.

in the night we trust by glorious_spoon 29,220 words || teen

It feels new, and good, and not just because it’s been so damn long since anyone has touched Eddie like this. It’s just—it’s Buck. Of course this is something they know how to do together. They’ve done just about everything else two people can do together; maybe this was always inevitable. - Or: Eddie and Buck start sleeping together when they're all stuck at Buck's place during lockdown. It still takes them almost three years to notice that they're in love.

The Heart Opening Sequence by Leslie_Knope 34,035 words || mature

Eddie’s handsome, that’s obvious, Buck clocked that the second he met him. Part of him still can’t really believe that the guy he was so threatened by at first ended up as his closest friend, which is why these weird twinges are so unsettling. Buck isn’t sure if they’re real, for one, these odd flashes of what it would be like to lean over and kiss Eddie while they’re watching a movie or brush a hand over his back while they’re in the kitchen. And for two, it’s so far out of the realm of possibility that it’s barely worth thinking about.

must be some kind of twist, I could get used to this by soyxunxperdedor 38,753 words || explicit  THIS FIC!!! Accidentally married in vegas??? SIGN ME UP

He doesn’t remember much from last night, even less after the fourth or fifth tequila shot. So he certainly doesn’t remember bringing someone back to his room. He steels himself for the lancing pain and cracks his eyes open. Oh. Oh no. This is either really bad or… Well, not really good, but just. Not really bad, and that’s probably all Buck can ask for it to be. Because Eddie is in his bed, Eddie’s arm is wrapped around his waist, Eddie’s legs are tangled with his. And he has no idea why.

let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts 54,477 words || explicit  This is the best post lightening strike long form fic I've read. It doesn't gloss over Buck dying/feeling different and instead shows Eddie (and Chris) helping Buck embrace his feelings and grow together. 15/10

“It’s just that—I died,” Buck continues, voice unsteady enough that Eddie wonders if this is the first time he’s acknowledged that out loud. “I died, and there’s so much more. There’s so much more I want to do, things I don’t even know I want to do yet, and I almost had the chance to have and live them taken away. I don’t want to die and regret missing out on everything else, Eddie.” “So let’s make a list,” Eddie says. “Let’s do them.” or, a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along

a body, a knife, hold steady by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) 67,425 words || mature I'm a slut for a Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU and this one is one of the best I've read.

Bogotá wasn’t Buck’s first international mission—Peru held that title—but it changed just about everything. Because Bogotá was where he met Eddie. Or, Buck and Eddie meet, fall in love, build a life together, and discover they're rival assassins—exactly in that order.

wishing to be the friction by ipretendtobesane 97,200 words || explicit 

Buck and Eddie are straight best friends who start having no strings attached sex. Eddie has a hard time having sex with someone he doesn't trust, and Buck's tired of hookups after being with Abby. Besides, they're both comfortable with their sexuality, and there's nothing wrong with giving your friend a hand. What's surprising is how long it took them to fall into bed together, really. What's entirely unsurprising is how quickly strings start getting attached. or; the straight eddie friends with benefits fic

[duhragonball]

Chainsaw Man ch. 5-12

Ha ha! Look at this adorable li'l guy! Hell yeah!

All right, so last time, Denji merged with Pochita (see above), and became Chainsaw Man. Well, his monster form with the chainsaws isn't actually named anything, at least not yet, but the comic is titled Chainsaw Man, so that's what I'm calling his chainsaw form.

Anyway, Denji was coerced into joining the Public Safety Devil Hunter Squad Directorate Organization Agency Conglomeration whatever. He's mainly in it for the food, shelter, and a possible chance of intimate relations with women. His boss, Makima orders him to go on a patrol with another teammate, Power.

Power is a fiend, which is a devil who has inhabited a human corpse. This is somehow different from the Pochita/Denji merger, but I'm not clear on the distinction yet. Power would seem to be on the supply side of devil hunting, but Makima seems to think she can make use of her, and Power is willing to play along, probably because Makima will kill her if she doesn't.

At first, the two of them have trouble finding any devils in town, but then Power spots one and immediately destroys it with a big magic hammer. This was a bad call, because there was already a civilian devil hunter handling this devil, and apparently it's against the rules for devil hunters to jump each other's claims. Power tries to weasel out of the blame by telling Makima that Denji ordered her to do it, but Makima doesn't care. She just wants the two of them to get results. The "or else" is mostly implied at this point, but it's there.

Fundamentally, these two just don't get along, and Power trying to throw Denji under the bus earlier just makes things work. But then Power explains that she can't get along with humans, and the only other creatures she likes are cats, like her pet Meowy. She says Meowy was captured by a devil and Power was recruited by Makima before she could recover the cat. But if Denji were willing to help get Meowy back, she would be willing to repay him by letting him touch her boobs.

Currently, that's Denji's main goal. Yeah, that's it. Second base. That's pathetic and all, but until recently his main goal was to have enough money to afford jam for his bread, so I'm pretty sure this is going somewhere.

Meanwhile, Makima meets with her superiors, and vaguely reports that she's found two new recruits, one promising and one interesting. Aki disputes her assessment, as he finds Denji neither promising nor interesting, but Makima explains that his devil powers are based on chainsaws. Generally, devils have a power based on the scariness of their theme. There was a tomato devil back in chapter 1, and it probably wasn't all that dangerous. There's no scary mental image of tomatoes. I mean, there was the movie Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, but that was a comedy, and no one ever remembers that.

But chainsaws, well, they made an actual horror movie with that in the title, and everyone remembers Leatherface. Oh, actually, this is the 50th anniversary of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. See, that's staying power, and that's the kind of power Makima is interested in.

Also, Power, the fiend literally named after power. I have to assume Makima's interested in her as well, for one reason or another.

Back to Denji and Power, she leads him to some spooky barn or something where the Bat Devil is holding her cat hostage. She had a plan on the way over, but then she forgets it as they head for the door, and so she knocks out Denji with a hammer. Power's supposed to be a Blood Devil, so I don't understand the hammer thing. She seems to be able to make them out of thin air, so maybe she's making them out of blood? I dunno.

Power was mostly telling the truth, except she never intended to fight the Bat Devil. She just wanted to lure Denji here so she could feed him to the Bat Devil. In return, the Bat Devil said he would give her back her cat. Why doesn't this guy just hunt down his own victims? Well, one of his arms got lopped off at some point, so he needs human blood to regenerate it, and he probably doesn't want to risk hunting a human while he's injured. Instead, he captured Power's cat and used it as a hostage to force her to do his dirty work. So here we are.

Why did Power get attached to a cat in the first place? Well, she found one in the woods and decided she should fatten it up before eating it, but while she was doing that, she wound up becoming fond for the li'l guy.

But the Bat Demon won't honor his bargain, because even though drinking Denji's blood regenerates his wing, it tastes bad because of Denji's part-devil nature. So he swallows the cage with Meowy in it, and then eats Power too? Okay...

Bat Devil decides to go hunting some tastier victims to cleanse his palate, and now that his wing his restored, he's all set... except he forgot one thing.

Boobs. No wait, I meant chainsaws. No... hold on. "Boobs" was right? In spite of Power's betrayal, Denji still thinks he can save the cat and get the reward she promised him. He grabs onto the Bat Devil and sucks his blood, which I guess heals him up enough to continue this fight. Bat Devil's like "What the hell do you want, anyway," and Denji's like...

So yeah, there's a certain touch to this that I really enjoy. The monsters in this story seem to be a lot more rational than Chainsaw Man, and when he goes apeshit on them, they start to wonder just what the hell they've gotten themselves into.

I've had to hear about Lovecraftian horrors for much of my life, how Cthulhu and his ilk are so impossibly powerful and scary, and if you even looked at them too long you'd go mad from the dread or whatever. I'm a bigger fan of Robert E. Howard stories, where Conan will run into some eldritch horror and just attack it like he would a wolf or a bear. It's like the man said: If it bleeds, we can kill it.

On the other hand, I like the notion of a creature so alien and with motives so incomprehensible that it cannot be perceived by the rational mind. That's a fun idea, but it's wasted on Yog-Sothoth. No, it's a lot more fun when the hero is the one who's beyond understanding, and the monsters he slays are left utterly baffled.

Bat Devil's like "What the fuck, dude? I'm just a despicable creature trying to drink blood to sustain my unholy existence. Why won't you leave me alone?"

And Denji's just like "booOoOoooObS" and there's no answer for that. Bat Devil can't give him boobs, he can't take another hostage. If he kills Power, Denji would just kill Bat Devil anyway for revenge. There's no way out of this because Denji's motives make no fucking sense. To him anyway. Boobs are pretty awesome.

Also, Denji's not exactly thinking straight. Bat Devil tries to throw a car at him as a distraction, but Denji catches it and chucks it back at him. I'm pretty sure he knows better, but he's too upset to care, and that must surely send a chill down Bat Devil's spine. I dig this sort of thing.

So Denji finally disembowels the Bat Devil and rescues Power and Meowy. She's like "What could possibly have made you go so far to rescue me after I betrayed you?" And he just points at her chest. And since Meowy survived, Power says she's hold up her end of the deal.

Well, except this thing suddenly showed up and cut off one of Denji's arms. Good luck touching boobs now, idiot.

This is a Leech Devil, and she says Bat Devil was her boyfriend. I don't know how she happened to be in the area when this fight happened, or how she snuck up on these two, so I'm going to assume that she was inside the Bat Devil's rectum the whole time. It's some freaky-deaky sex act, just get all crammed up inside your partner's rectum. Anyway, Denji tries to transform again, but he's worn out, and he only changes part way. The Leech Devil offers to let him go, but she intends to kill Power and the cat, so Denji's like "Let's dance, bitch."

Denji gets a few hits in, but he can't last long, and just as the Leech Devil is about to eat him...

Aki shows up and does the Too-Sweet gesture. Has he joined Bullet Club? Probably, because Bullet Club sucks these days and so does Aki. Well, actually, this is how he summons his demon familiar or whatever it is. It eats the leech devil and saves Denji.

Later, Denji's arm grows back when he gets a blood transfusion, and Aki explains to him that he's not friends with this Fox Devil thing. He borrows its power in exchange for feeding it parts of his body. It's a contract, similar to the contract Denji and Pochita made in chapter 1.

Aki loathes devils, and resents Denji for not hating them just as much, and for having shallow motives for being a devil hunter, but he believes he can accept this if Denji agrees to follow his orders. Also, Aki covers up all the civilians Denji put in harm's way during that battle.

Denji agrees, and one of the other Devil Hunters asks Aki if this is wise. He seems to be going to great lengths to protect Denji and Power, and if they screw up, it'll be his ass. But Aki insists that he's simply using Power and Denji to achieve their primary goal: hunting devils. He has no intention of befriending either of them.

But he does have to live with them, because Makima orders them to live with Aki. Aki asks why and she says she trusts Aki more than anyone, and he accepts this pretty readily.

Later, Power finally gives Denji his payment for saving Meowy. She agrees to give him three squeezes.

On the first one, Denji winds up causing her breast pads to fall out. I'm not against her wearing the things, but I feel like that first squeeze shouldn't count if all he got was padding. He could buy one of those himself and go to town if that's all he was after.

Two and three go pretty uneventfully, and Power seems pretty pleased with the transaction. She has her cat, so she has no reason to continue hunting devils, but she can't escape Makima, so she'll just carry on and help Denji from here on out. Well that's nice.

But for Denji, the whole thing seems kind of anticlimactic... because... it was.

Later, while Makima walks him through paperwork, Denji confides in her that he achieved a dream he'd had for a while, only to discover the fulfillment of the dream felt empty. Like the Vulcan once said: "[H]aving is not so pleasing a thing as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true."

The hollow feeling of touching Power's boobs isn't such a bad thing in itself, but Denji is now worried that this will be how it goes every time. What if every dream he chases turns out like this?

He finally admits to Makima that this is about touching boobs, and she explains that physical intimacy kind of depends on... well, intimacy. You have to get to know your partner, at least physically, and take your time, or otherwise there's no enjoyment.

I'm not sure if Makima knows Denji touched Power's boobs, or how that went down, but it's probably not hard to guess that it was a cold, sterile experience. Power's not even human, so it's unclear if she even cared about doing it. And she just sat on a toilet and let him do his thing. Come to think of it, that's probably why the pads were in that scene. I said that first squeeze shouldn't count, but the second and third kind of don't count either, because Denji didn't enjoy the flesh any more than the padding.

By contrast, this panel of Makima putting Denji's hand on her ear is a lot more thrilling. It's pretty dumb on paper, and it's kind of creepy when it's Makima doing it, but she also makes it seem like a truly romantic gesture. I wish some lady would let me fondle her left ear.

So when all of that is set up, Makima then puts his hand on her boob, and that actually excites Denji, because she built up to it. I'm pretty sure this isn't appropriate for one reason or another, but I'm not here to consider the morality of Makima's actions in this scene. Her observation on the nature of intimacy, is spot on, even if she really shouldn't be demonstrating it like this in the workplace.

And after all of this, Makima asks Denji for a favor: defeat the Gun Devil. It's a really powerful devil that's worth a lot of money or something, and Makima thinks Denji can take him. All she needs is to get him properly motivated, which is probably what this scene was all about.

And if he succeeds, Makima offers to grant him any one wish. I kind of don't believe they can do Third Base in a manga like this. Maybe he'll wish for his own desk instead.

[rise-my-angel]

Waging Double Edged War

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Length: 6.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, fluff, mild blood and mentions of violence, smut, oral (m receiving), p in v

Notes: Takes place mid season 3, follow up to A Future of Unknown Dangers and The Complexities Of Defeat but can be read as a standalone

You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him as stressed out as he is now. A constant feeling that he’s at the edge of a cliff, and any gust of wind will push him off of it. He tried to play it off to you as if it wasn’t a big deal, but it was clear to just about anyone around him that his superiors wanted him to play their game no questions asked. As soon as Martinez left, the tide had shifted and the walls were closing in. 

Javier had tried to keep the worse details from you, but the kind of reception you got alone from Javi’s superiors told the story all on it’s own. He had been transparent about your relationship upon coming back, and considering you were a low level civilian who had no involvement in actual cases, they let it slip by. What they didn’t slip by though, is reflecting their opinions of Javier onto you as well. 

Walking into the embassy on your own now felt like a mission all on it’s own to avoid any run in with the ambassador. Asking you questions about settling in here and commenting how surprising it was you even wanted to come back a place you were ‘so eager to get out of’. Asking with a skeptical gaze how you and Javier were doing while implying that the only reason you paired so well together must be you had the same kind of mindset or integrity. It wasn’t lost on you that he certainly didn’t speak to you with a favourable tone, and he wasn’t the only one. 

It was when you were alone gathering new ink for the photocopier that Stechner miraculously found his way into the same supply closet. “Well isn’t it my favourite mail clerk.” 

Your shoulders tensed just a fraction as your jaw clenched, maybe hidden enough someone else couldn’t notice it, but he would. “You and I both know that’s not what I do here.” Just keep opening the box you told yourself, he was always seeking some kind of reaction. 

His frame slid just slightly into your peripheral vision, back against the shelves with his arms crossed, looking up at nothing around the ceiling. “My apologies. Simple mistake to make when that’s all I ever see you do, passing messages back and forth.” 

Your grip on the box tightened and your blood begun to heat up. You knew you should keep your mouth shut, but his voice was so grating on your ears it triggered an instant anger response. “Maybe that’s because you’re too busy shaking hands and kissing babies with politicians to notice anything around you. Not that you were ever good at that.” The last part you muttered under your breathe, but not enough to bother trying to hide it from him.

You were treading on thin ice and you knew it, Javi would have just told you to ignore him or walk away, but he stood between you and the door. Stechner wasn’t dumb enough to do anything, but he was bigger than you and far more dangerous, it intimidated you too much to push past him, all you could do was push back. 

At this point your hands remained at the box openings, your brain already forgetting to reach for the scissors you brought to slice it open. You could feel his head leaning more in as he now looked at you. “Is that anyway to speak to your superior?” 

The roll of your eyes was another thing you didn’t bother to hide, you were so tired of this game he had been playing for years now. “You’re a superior, not mine. I, in no way work for you. The only respect I have to show you is to restrain myself from telling you to piss off.” 

Stechner’s eyebrows raised almost in amusement. “Someone came back with a bite. What, that Texas sun burn that nativity right out of you or is that attitude just what happens when you tussle in the sheets with a certain DEA agent?” 

In frustration you turned abruptly to face him directly, your fingers tripping the box edge’s slicing through the skin, leaving a bright tear that instead left you hissing in pain. Holding your wrist to look at the long gash already starting to bleed more you could only look up at his taller frame slightly as he gave a tsk. 

“Already hurting yourself in here of all places,” leaning in there was a smirk you just knew was meant to agitate you. “How are you going to protect yourself the more your big shot boyfriend puts himself in danger?” 

His features flickered to one side in a dismissive mock before he walked away. Turning to you as he opened the door, “You’re out of first aid supplies by the way.” You winced in pain again as he finally left, your cut clearly hit a bad angle and while it wasn’t a dangerous amount of blood, it was enough to leave you feeling a bit uneasy at the sight of it. 

Letting go of your wrist your free hand pressed against your forehead, eyes squeezed shut as finally letting at least some of the anger simmer out. Turning to grab at least a package of paper only to drop it on the ground. You let out a frustrated groan and left, shutting the door a tad too loudly as you did so, no doubt catching some attention as you walked back to the office hoping there was a first aid kit laying around somewhere. 

Unfortunately for you, you had barley even gotten the only one you could find on the desk stashed in Javi’s office when he unbeknownst to you, walked in. You had hoped to get it wrapped up before he ever even saw it, he had a different level of desperate protectiveness this time around then you ever saw before you two came back. 

His eyes going wide at the blood covering your hand, “Fuck, what happened?” in and instant he was rushed to your side taking your cut hand out of your use and tossing the kit open and grabbing things. Most of the blood was from dripping down when you walked back to the office not really putting any pressure onto it, but you knew all he saw was what it looked like. 

Your free hand gently reached out to his working arm in protest, “Javi, really it’s okay it was nothing.” 

Paying diligent attention to you, he doused a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol. “This amount of blood isn’t nothing.” Before you could say anything he lightly swiped it over the length of the cut, you let out a sharp gasp in the stinging pain. Javi tossed it aside, his hand cupping the side of your head for a brief moment of comfort. “I’m sorry quierda, I know.” 

For such rough hands, they handled you gently as you started to relent. “It was just an accident, honestly.” You let him be concerned. It was the biggest feeling weighing him down seeming at every opportunity. No matter what he did, it seemed like every single choice was looked down on now. 

Part of you wondered if it was intentional. Wearing him down until he complies in defeat. You knew Stechner wasn’t there goading you out of sheer disrespect, no he was trying to get a message through to Javi, and you were a channel to that. Just go along with things and you’ll stop being bothered by people here.

If it was clear why you didn’t have Javi’s job, it was because you hide your emotions as well as you wished. It was written all over your face, a train of thought consuming you as you failed to notice Javi had finished wrapping your hand, and was now watching you. He knew you, and he knew that specific degree of frustrated only one man ever made you. 

“What did he say?” 

You shook your head, looking away from him as you tried to pull your hand back, but his grip was stronger then yours. Muttering your name with sternness, you instinctively obeyed and looked back. Only to see that dark penetrating gaze, doing what he did with those in the interrogation room. Figuring out what you weren’t going to say. “I’ve only ever seen Stechner piss you off like that, what did he say?” 

Closing your eyes for a brief moment only finding the energy to open them again half way through your sentence. “It doesn’t matter. He’s just trying to to get to you by bothering me. It’s hard to tell what he ever really wants I’d rather just ignore him.” 

You could really tell how much more exhausted this case was making him, before he would have pushed until you told him right away, but this time he just softened his face as he looked at you. Instead he saved it until you got home that evening. Quietly prompting you at the end of the day that they had things to do tomorrow and should get an early evening. 

It was only a half lie. Judging by the always anxious look on Stoddard’s face, you assumed he knew something about it as well. Javi wasn’t even the one to tell you about the wire tap, apparently your association to Javi made him just as bad of a liar to you as he was to him. Before walking out of the office, you looked at him and made an exaggerated inhale and exhale motion as watched until he did the same, his shoulders losing just a slight of their tension. 

Once out of earshot of anyone else, you and Javi finally felt far enough to relax more into one another. Javi wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you firmly into his side. You tried to make an attempt to lighten the mood. “I can’t tell if Stoddard is perfect for this job or completely out of his depth working for you.” 

Javi chuckled as he nudged you to the passenger side door. “He’s good at what he does, I just don’t think they thought out putting him with someone like me.” You shared a chuckle, but didn’t say anything more until you both were tucked in the confines of the car. “Honestly most of what I get him to do, I would’ve just given to you if I could get away with it. Considering half the things I convinced you to do for me before.” 

He started the car but didn’t quite make a move to drive. “You didn’t convince me to do anything. I trusted in what you were doing. Bureaucracy wants you to stand back and let it play out by itself, I’d rather help you in actually doing something than keep sitting back and watching you struggle to push through all the red tape.” Javi didn’t look at you, but moved his hand resting on the stick shift to grab at your hand. His thumb rubbing over the skin. “If I can’t help you here Javi,” you leaned over to move your conjoined hands over his heart. “At least I can still help you here.” 

As if there was too much stirring in his head, he shut his eyes and held your hand tight against his chest before finally letting it go, moving back to drive out. “I played ball as much as I could, but they just see numbers and names on a report. They have no clue what it’ really like out there.” 

It’s why he didn’t say much about tomorrow to anyone. It’s why you two never even discussed it until you both were in your shared bedroom going over everything. Javi sat on the edge of the bed, his body slightly twisted to lean over the bedspread to look at the papers in front of him, you sitting near the middle with your legs crossed reciting things out loud to make sure he was going in fully prepared. 

You both knew approaching Christina Juardo wouldn’t be a one way solution. Javi needed to get in the door, put who he is in her head, and let her slowly come to terms with what he wanted, but then the wiretap came though. And suddenly Javi knew exactly where her husband was hiding. 

It was all a mess, but that was the only state of affairs the DEA was allowed to function under anymore. For the first time though, you didn’t quite feel the gut wrenching fear you used too. Curaçao was a far cry from running through the streets of Cali or Medellín. It was one of the only times now where Javi leaving for a field job didn’t leave you sick inside at what could happen. Franklin Juardo was a money man, not a fighter hiding out in a city that posed no threat to Javier's safety. 

Neither were things you could be sure of after he gets back. Eventually he had to relent, everything was ready to go, just none if it made either of you feel any better. The last time you two had been in Colombia, a night before an arrest like this, Javi would have needed to let out that intense fire in his nerves, and your softy pliant body was the perfect place to let that out on. You’d take his cock however many times in whatever ways he needed, but tonight was different. 

The way you fucked now was intense, brought out of a painful helplessness you both experienced day after day. He was tense and so were you, and he never wanted to take that out on you. His anger was different now than it was before, and he was constantly aware of making sure not to let that turn into handling you so roughly.

So that night before his flight, it was just his lips against yours, and quiet whispers between them. It was tender, and it hit you right in the heart at how soft and vulnerable he was allowing himself to be with you. 

You just hoped thing’s in the upcoming weeks wouldn’t take away that deeply rooted feelings between you. That whatever was inevitably going to crash down, didn’t take Javi down with it. 

Waiting around the quiet office all day ruined whatever tenderness last night filled you with. Part of you felt bad, you didn’t know almost any of these people upon your return so they must think you’re just a quiet, tense bitch. Or at least stand offish. They knew you and Javier were together, he had disclosed that upon your own reapplication, but between Cali somehow remaining two steps head and the constant push back from the ambassador, Javi hasn’t come off as less stand offish than you have. 

As the only thing your mind could focus on was the clicking of keys and the ticking clock, you begun to wonder if this was how Connie felt. This feeling of knowing you won’t hear from them until they’re back and you just have to spend your day not knowing anything or if they’ll succeed, and what happens if they didn’t. More than once Stoddard tried to not so subtly bring things up, but you shut it down just as fast. You really didn’t want to talk about what Javier was doing with anyone not Javier. 

It wasn’t until there was hustling and rushed activity in the halls that you suspected he was back, and judging by the security making their way over there, had Franklin Juardo in custody. Your palms sat flat on your desk, eyes shut as you took a deep breathe in. You felt relieved he was back, but somehow it didn’t make you feel any better. 

At some point you had seen his lawyer enter the embassy, and if he had looked your way he definitely would have noticed the glaring squint sent his way. You didn’t want to even start wondering just how much he was being paid to sacrifice any dignity or integrity he had to protect these people. 

Whatever had happened once they returned, it also didn’t make Javi feel any better either. By the time he made it to his office, it was late. Late enough the sun had started going down and you were in his chair with your feet resting on the desk. Your uncomfortable shoes kicked off over an hour ago as you flipped through the same file over and over. 

Once again the droning of the clock distracted your brain enough not to realize anyone had approached until Javi quickly opened and more aggressively shut the door. Carelessly tossing his DEA jacket off onto a nearby chair before rubbing a hand over his face. Your head tilted with wide eyes as you waited for him to come to you. 

Finally he looked at you with a large breathe, hands on his hips. “Christina?” Shaking your head no, you could see his jaw tick in frustration. He walked further in and sat on the edge of his desk beside your resting feet. “Brave of a subordinate to think she can just use her bosses desk as a footstool.” 

As he nodded down your face fell in regret, immediately moving them up only to have Javi chuckle softly to himself. Grabbing your feet gently and pulling them into his lap, gently massaging what spots he knew were uncomfortable. You looked pensively at him before finding the courage to ask. “How bad is it?” His head turned more to you with a look of confusion before you clarified. “The lawyer. I saw him when he first got here.” 

Javi let a large sigh out, turning his focus back to the soles of your feet. Sometimes a distraction with his hands helped his brain focus, probably why the nicotine gum didn’t do anything to help. “Said he’s sure I can’t make the charges stick, that he’ll get Juardo off in no time. He’s good.” 

Your brows furrowed, sitting up properly and leaving Javi’s touch entirely so you could lean in closer to his face. “He’s not good, Javi. He just knows his own clients can throw money around to do whatever they want. He’s expensive and doesn’t give a shit about being moral, that’s all.” 

Deep brown eyes bled into yours, as the softer Javi returned slowly to you. Standing up you moved in front of him, his legs giving you just enough space to properly keep close. Your hands cupped the sides of his jaw, thumbs rubbing over the skin, an act normally soothing enough to see Javi’s eyes flutter shut but this time he just caressed one of your wrists with his as he held your waist with the other. 

“I’m just waiting for Crosby to pull me into his office and tell me that nabbing the cartels own money launderer was somehow the wrong move.” His hands raised just long enough to pull you in as close as the space allowed, guiding yours to wrap around his neck. Holding your chin with his fingers he nudges his nose against yours. 

“They don’t like anything you do because they want to keep you focused on the carrot on the string, rather then going for the food directly.” As soon as you said it you got it. A smirk along with a laugh as he runs his hair over the side of your head. 

 “That’s it. You’ve done it that was the worst one.” You started laughing as well, Javi pulling you in with a smile when you tried to get away. “Good thing we didn’t hire you for the marketing team.” 

Your foreheads eventually found a resting spot against the other as Javi switched from holding you static to squeezing where his hands lay on your body as he thought more and more. “You know what I mean though, Javi. They want you to think that you’re the one in the wrong for caring about how much harm these people actually do. You saw it, what looks good on paper is all that they care about producing. That doesn’t take away from what you’re doing, which is actually wanting to help the people men in Cali hurt.”

Javi finally nudged his nose against yours once more, but this time cupping your cheeks softly to pull you into a gentle kiss. A kiss that turned a little more urgent the longer you didn’t have the will power to pull away. 

You slid your hands down to his sides, tempted to sneak under the fabric of his shirt to enjoy the feeling of his bare skin, but managed to pull your lips away from him leaving a much more soft kiss to his forehead. Eventually you let each other go a big, Javi holding you at the waist while yours rested on his thighs. “If they don’t like this, they’re certainly not going to like what we’re going for next.” 

Your eyes remained firm. Out of the four only one remained in charge here in Colombia to have any major influence. “Miguel.” 

Javi nodded. “Miguel. We get him I may actually have a fucking chance at ending this.” One thing he still adored on you was that look you held right now. Focused and intense, always paying close attention to whatever he shared with you no matter how much of it you likely weren’t supposed to know. “If this informant of Feistl and Van Ness comes through, it’d give us the upper hand. Getting Miguel Rodriguez is huge at this point. Everything goes through him now, and if we take that away from they might not recover from it.” 

You both wished his tone was hopeful, but it was increasingly more touch each day to find the bright side of Javi’s gloom. What he needed now wasn’t that though, he just needed you there with him. That was enough to keep him going, for now at least. Your hands rubbed over his thighs now mindlessly, but the caress was strong enough that Javi could feel it. “When you said Cali was going to be completely different, I didn’t realize that meant having almost no one on your side. I mean I know it’s all technically the same, but this time just feels...” 

While you trailed off Javi knew exactly what words they were. “Bleak. Way more fucking bleak.” The tension in his jaw returned and it poked at your heart again. You glanced to see shut blinds at his office window and took a deep breathe through your nose as you turned back to him, hands rubbing over his thighs both higher and now a purposeful degree of firmer. 

Javi breathed an almost silent laugh out, standing up off the desk, pulling you close into him sharing a softer kiss than before. “Even here, you just can’t control yourself can you?” 

As your fingers danced up the length of his shirt he snatched them and shook them away. “Let’s go home, bebita. I’ve got a few ideas how you can cheer me up.” Smirking at the clearly flustered look your started to grow, Javi turned you around and nudged you to go grab your things. 

It wasn’t until you reached the door that you stopped and turned around, seeing Javi still standing there watching you. Before you could ask, he closed the gap and pushed you out with a hand on your lower back. It was easier to get Javi to open up at home than it was here. This place now kept becoming a constant reminder of his almost impossible mission. 

As much as you liked to tease Javi and his insatiable appetite, you preferred to properly take care of him first. You declined a very tempting and handsy offer to join him in a shower, wanting to make him something warm and comforting to eat. He did it for you, but never his own comfort food and never for his own sake. 

Focused on making sure everything was cooking right, you failed to notice the sound of the shower turning off at all until two strong arms wrapped around your front followed by a very large needy creature pulling you back slightly into his chest. Javi didn’t say anything, simply allowed you to cook while his face was tucked into your neck, whispering occasional compliments for how good everything smelled. 

From your position, you could feel his jean were back on, but forewent a belt and sat undone likely as a ploy to entice you with the coarse dark hair you might just be able to see if you looked long enough. A soft tee shirt covered his chest, which was rare these days for him to choose something casual. Almost as if he wanted to always be closer to be ready to go at a moments notice. 

His hands roamed your stomach and instinctively you flinched almost out of his touch, only to be gently pulled back in, one hand now playing with his palm flat against it and the other holding onto your hip. “Hey, there’s nothing to be self conscious about, queirda.” That one had been a slow process between you, accepting what you looked like without comparing it to what he’s been with before. 

Moving from your front, Javi slide his hand up to grasp your bandaged one. He seemed to think for a moment before the words whispered themselves out. “It wasn’t-” You felt a deep sigh of air on the side of your face. “Seeing that kind of blood on you, it knew it wasn’t serious but it still just..”

“Scared you.” Finishing his trailed off sentence, you turned the burner off twisted in his hold to face him. Moving the bandaged hand up to cup the side of his cheek. Your face was soft, but you felt the same kind of fear in your heart. “You’re not the only one.” 

It was a quiet moment standing in each others arms. There was worse things ahead that neither of you could predict, but you needed to keep your own head afloat, if just to help keep Javi’s up too. You watched whatever thought he was lost in, move on as a small smile took its place again. Tapping your side he moved to the cupboard. “You’ve done enough, let me do this go sit down.” 

Javi moved around the kitchen with a comfortably you don’t remember existing beforehand. It was there in when you two left for Texas, him and his father working in perfect synchronicity like he loved being in the kitchen, but being here it wasn’t one you had been used too. 

Getting together with Javi was both easy and incredibly difficult. The feelings between you two was the easy part. It genuinely surprised you how well you got on right from your first day, and he had to be the one to chase you. He took every opportunity to show you what you meant to him and how much he cared, and quickly it pulled the mask off. 

Javier cared deeply, more deep than most of the people he worked with. It’s why his actions were so brash and sometimes questionable. He did what he did because he’s not here to just shove cartels behind bars, you know he sees the country, walks in the city and sees the lives of the people those cartels effect. The people he’s watched get hurt, or worse along the way. 

Javier shows his heart on his sleeve, but so many people brush it off as arrogance or anger. But watching him, start serving the warm little meal you made for him, moving around the kitchen with little things you both finally added too. 

Last time you had been provided an apartment, but once things with Javi got started, he suspiciously got you to stay over with him more nights than not. Always suggesting you bring this or that over just in case you need it, and before you knew it you had decorated his place with some of your life. Now though, you both lived here, and it was the first time it felt like a home for both of you, not just a space you included yourself in. 

You wanted to hold onto this feeling for just a little while longer. Give him just enough to keep that content look on his face with you as long as you could before it all gets swept away the second he steps into the embassy. You had more than one idea for that, but food was first. 

It wasn’t until later, when you told him in a sweet but needy voice, hands playing with the open button of his jeans as your finger tips brushed his stomach. “I should get you out of these jeans, they can’t be comfy right?” 

Javi’s smirk read right through you, “What did you have in mind instead, quierda?” All you did was tug at the fabric a little more nodding to your bedroom. Laughing a bit, he kept a hand on the back of your neck suddenly. The gesture almost having you jump in surprise, Javi knew exactly what he was doing. His large band was so warm on your neck and it almost tingled down your spine as he held you firm enough that he could direct you elsewhere with any gesture. 

You knew where his path was though. Javi moved suddenly to crowd you up against the bedroom wall, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. His tongue heavy and demanding on yours as he kept that one hand on your neck. His groans coming out almost more aggressively as he switched from coaxing your moans out with his tongue, to forcing gasps from biting your bottom lip. 

He switched back and forth as if he couldn’t get enough of either taste. When your hands slipped under the softness of his shirt and gently raked over the bare skin, Javi made up his mind. 

His hold on you pushing enough to put you down on your knees. You wanted to look up at those daring aggressive eyes as he let his lust control him, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of the dark hair just teasing you as it sat above his cock under the jeans. Your hands braced themselves on the meat of his thighs as you made your mind up. 

This was Javi’s show, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to take care of him. Javi murmured your name only to be interrupted with a hiss as you leaned your head in to nuzzle your nose against the impressively large bulge straining against him. Your mouth pressing harder against the fabric to just barley tease his cock, and by the twitch he let out, you knew his cock wanted to be treated well too. 

Sliding your hands up to just on either side of his hips, you looked up at him. “Will you let me take care of you Javier?” 

Javi nodded as he grit his teeth, “Pull me out, baby.” His hand rightly wound itself in your hair, jilting you head back just slightly as you pulled his jeans down just enough to get your hand around his cock. Jeans resting now just below his ass, you had enough space to move your hand gently over him as much as you wanted. 

The moan Javi let out as you kissed his tip was music to your ears. You almost instinctualy shut your eyes, your insides wanting you to lose yourself in the pleasure even just giving it to him, but Javi always pressed you to look at him. So you behaved. Licking and kissing the tip just enough to suck just that into your mouth you already could taste the precum spilling out. So you sucked more, uncaring that it was mixing sloppily with your saliva. Pulling away you properly wrapped a hand around his cock. 

You always were teased about having small hands, but it was only apparent to you when Javi’s thick cock would need two of your own hands to reach all the way around. But you kept one on his thigh as you used the slickness around his tip to coat his cock, unable to resist trailing you mouth down the sides your hand wasn’t touching. Adding to the slick mess as you stroked him. 

The sound was obscene, the wet slide of your hand as you left almost greedy kisses with your tongue down his length until the grip on your hair was almost painful. “This your idea of taking care of me?” 

Looking up, your hand was still stroking up and down as your mouth left him enough to give a much more warm and gentle tone, “I’ll always take care of you.” That gentle softness ruptured by you finally sliding his cock into your mouth. 

There wasn’t much room to work with, Javi had you pinned up to the wall. The most room you were going to work with was to suck him deep. Javi’s thighs trembled as your warm mouth sucked him over and over, his hand gently guiding you faster if you slowed down to teasingly. It had taken time to get such a small mouth used to his size, and the deeper he brought you the more your eyes stung from how much they were starting to water. 

But you sucked him more, your lips sealed tight around him, his cock sliding deep into your throat as if it was as warm and tight as your pussy. He was impatient, he always wanted to pull you off before he cums so he can fuck you. 

That look on his face right at that moment, his head thrown back with his mouth opening in a moan, is what you wanted to keep him feeling like. Just giving him something good for his own pleasure, nothing more and you were starting to think he was going to accept that, at least this time. 

Swearing, his tight grip in your hair shifts to rake through it almost more sensually, hazy eyes looking down at you he tries not to lose it then and there. “Taking me so well, don’t you? Always wanting my cock so deep.” 

One hand of yours drifted up from his thigh, winding up right at edge of his hip close enough that your palm partially siding behind him. Javi let out a wistful sigh, the tender almost innocent gesture pulling him far closer to the edge than expected, and this time what he wanted was exactly what you wanted. “Fuck- oh fuck, I’m close. I’m so fucking close, this fucking mouth..” 

You could feel Javi’s body tensing under your palms, a slight shake to his muscles as you pulled his orgasm closer and closer with every bob of your head. Your eyes slid shut totally, wanting to focus on nothing but how he feels and what he sounds like. The heavy weight of his cock on your tongue was so overwhelming, how thick and deep he was in your mouth sending your nerves into a frenzy of if you could handle it, but you did. 

Javi’s gentle groan of your name caught your attention, and you squeezed the part of his cheek that your hand had found itself cupping in response, but you never let him go without you. “Gonna cum down you’re throat, bebita. You gonna be good for me? Gonna swallow it all for me?” 

The closer he felt his orgasm, the more Javi talked, some nonsense, some muttered Spanish you couldn’t make out. “Let me fill your mouth, baby let me fill you,” his cock throbbed in your mouth and his voice moaned out in desperation as he came. 

You could barley pull off of him he was so close to you, so you pulled his hips into your mouth deeper, the dark hair around his cock brushing against you as Javi spilled into your mouth. Between you pulling him in and Javi’s hand keeping your head in place, he filled your mouth with his cum so intensely. 

Trying to swallow everything as he came, but your eyes watered more and more at how overwhelmingly deep he was and how much he came right down your throat. The sensation forcing whines out of you that vibrated more against his sensitive cock. Milking his cum for every drop he could spill. 

As the last of it was swallowed down, you could hear Javi’s breathing in pants as his entire body sagged in relaxation. You very slowly pulled his cock out of your mouth, the slide causing him to let out a mix of a gasp and a hiss as you did so. 

For a moment all he could do was look at you, your red eyes with tears drying on your cheeks but all with a dazed proud smile as you watched him come down to earth. Finally you moved your hands to gently cup his cock as you ever so lightly licked his length once over, cleaning him of what cum had been mixed with your saliva coating what you didn’t swallow. 

“Jesus, fuck, come here, queirda-” Javi pulled you up to your feet as he jaw clenched from the over stimulation. Wanting to put more force into it initially, Javi paused. Struck at how softly you cupped his cheek and the gentle press of your lips on his, demanding nothing greater than a chaste kiss.  

His hands moved to your hips and pushed you slightly against the wall, returning the kiss just enough to keep him stuck in that fuzzy overwhelmed state, your hands raked through his hair as you pulled him off your lips. Pressing a kiss into his cheek, you moved both of you so Javi could sit on the edge of the bed. 

As his hand tried pulling you into his lap, you snatched your arm away to grab some simple sweatpants for him. Turning your back to face him you had a cheeky grin on your face. “You think you can handle this part by yourself?” 

A full laugh left you as Javi’s face fell into a flat unimpressed look. By the time you both got into bed, Javi had laid down first, and tried to coax you up onto his mouth. His grumpiness only shining through at being denied giving you pleasure was endearing. You just shook your head, cuddling up to his side as he turned onto his to properly hold you. “Really? You’re denying me the pleasure of tasting you? How is that far?” 

You shared another gentle kiss before you nudged your nose against his. “Sometimes it’s not about me Javi. Some nights I just want to make it about you. You deserve good things.” 

There was an unspoken moment of silence between you, he could snark back at how much pleasure he got from getting to taste you, but it was the first time in days he truly felt relaxed. That his muscles could melt into the sheets, and for now he accepted it. Pulling you close into his arms he muttered things against the top of your head in Spanish that he hoped you wouldn’t catch onto quite yet. 

In the quiet of the night, the only words spoken between you were short and simple before sleep over took you both. Javi’s voice rung deep in your ears, “It’s only going to get worse from here, quierda.” You wound your hand up onto his face to pull him into a final sleepy kiss. 

“Whatever happens I have your back, no matter what anyone else feels.” 

[mossy-rainfrog]

Build A Cowboy Round 5!

Hi good evening sorry for vanishing OK SO i mentioned in the tags of my first poll that this cowboy is not just going to be a vaguely historical cowboy, but from a Very specific time frame, because of the fic that his partner Javi exists in. That being said, there is a lot to unpack here with this! The time period exactly is 1841, the setting is Texas (because I am texan and we are predictable) and oh my god this is one of the most insane times for a character to be from texas 😭

Our cowboy will have in fact lived through the Mexican War of Independence (1810-1821), the Texas Revolution (1835-1836), tx's CRINGEFAIL attempt at self governing, rapidly approaching our annexation into the US in 1844-5, and then coming right up on the fuckign CIVIL WAR in 1861. These guys deeply understand the concept of "get me the fuck out of the interesting times, im sick of the interesting times". im so sorry cowboys, you can blame Herman Melville for this.

anyways yall didnt come here for a history lesson but you are in fact going to get one because i am insufferable first and an artist second :) and also as a note, race and backstory are always intertwined things but Especially when it is fuckign 1841 so. yeah exercise caution, there will be discussion of racism, medical close-calls, and anti-indigenous genocide. PLEASE ACTUALLY READ THE BACKGROUNDS BEFORE CHOOSING ONE! you dont have to read the sources. those are just there because i have autism. 👍

DETAILS BELOW THE READMORE BC I GOT WAYYY TOO WORDY⬇️

BACKSTORY A: Black Cowboy fled Texas* to Oklahoma with his family after the revolution, now travels up the trade routes breaking wild horses, passing along abolitionist messages, and assisting refugees. A miracle baby surviving a cleft lip with limited surgery and sustained permanent hearing damage as a result, he took up the trade of horsebreaking with flying colors, keeping right up with his older brothers. A sharp shot, keen eye, and a talented horseman, his best trained horses help him identify sounds that he otherwise can't hear. Loosely familiar with PSL, but primarily used a mix of lip-reading, localized/community generated sign growing up.

* After the US aided Texas in staging a coup against Mexico and declaring independence, an ordinance passed in 1836 that fully banished free Black people from the region unless they had personal pardon from Congress. This ordinance was not passed without pushback, and it changed shape and restriction over the years as people of color such as Joseph Tate, John and Charity Bird, Diana Leonard, Allen Dimery, and more all fought for their right to their own lands and lives. The law eventually settled into what was known as the Ashworth Act in 1840, which allowed free Black people to stay IF they had been residing in the state before 1836. It certainly wasn't the victory many had hoped, and even though many free Black persons in Texas were granted pardon to stay, like the Ashworths who the act was named after, many others were forced to leave after their allotted time was up, and were threatened with the future of slavery should they return. thank you texas history for being a vile piece of shit 👍

BACKSTORY B: Mexican/Tejano Vaquero from West Texas whose family has been ranching and cattle driving for decades. Has no interest in moving post-revolution, fuck you very much. If the borders are going to cross his family without asking*, then there's no need to cross them back. Technically lives with his family, but spends extensive periods of time away from home on cattle drives. Steady-handed, steadfast, quick to keep his herd safe. Miraculously survived a cleft lip as a baby and sustained permanent hearing damage** as a result, but that didn't stop his father from teaching him everything he knew, nor our man from taking to it like a fish to water. Knows more about cattle driving than you will ever forget.

*Some brief notes on the borders shifting and alienating people in their own rightful land.

**There was no official sign language of Mexico until the first Deaf school was established in 1869, but he and his family likely have a community-based one that works for them.

BACKSTORY C: Coahuiltecan (specifically Payaya)* cowboy, farrier, and leatherworker. Picked up the line of work as family was pushed to assimilate, one of the few still claiming Coahuiltecan identity at this time**, and has made a good living for himself and his sisters with it. Like the others, miraculously survived a cleft lip as a child but sustained permanent hearing damage as a result. Knows Plains Indian Sign fluently, and also relies on the direction of his horse for picking up sudden sounds before he can spot them. Tries to keep his work as local as possible to avoid separation from family for long, and whenever that is necessary, makes sure to come back soon.

*Note: Coahuiltecan is a term referring to several northern-Mexican and southern-Texan autonomous groups with distinct cultural differences. However, since Spanish and French colonizers lumped these groups together, an immense amount of distinguishing knowledge has since been lost.

** Also note: the Tāp Pīlam Coahuiltecan Nation is still very much around today (check out their site!) but nearing the mid 19th century, people at least claiming/listing this heritage on legal documents dwindled immensely for a variety of reasons.