#college is ... far more bullshit that I thought goddamn

[lucaonthropy]

OCTP doodles I made to cope

[mv1simp]

my constant thought about max is him and virgin reader where r is saving herself for marriage and for her husband but max convinces her that doing anal means she’ll stay a virgin <33

Anon YOU EVEN MADE ME BLUSHH 🤭🤭🤭 do u know how hard that is. got me kickin and gigglin an shit, here u go u filthy animal keep the requests coming 🫶

Low Life ♥️

Max Verstappen x Horner! Reader

I been on the molly and ‘em xans with your daughter, if she catch me cheatin’ I won���t ever tell her sorry

Mad Max is back in full force with the poor Redbull strategy this season - and his boss, Christian Horner, doesn’t seem to be doing anything about it. Guess Max will just have to find some other way to get his revenge and relieve his stress…starting with his boss’s precious, spoiled daughter.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin!reader, who’s also a spoiled brat lol, dark! Max, blackmail, coercion, filming, VERY dubcon, anal, size kink, dom/sub, bimbofication, religious themes, EVERYTIME I WRITE A DARK MAX FIC IT KEEPS GETTING MORE NASTY GODDAMN, 5.2k WC

To say Max was pent up with rage would be an understatement. After dedicating himself tirelessly and dominating the track since his debut, the Redbull team had disappointed him this season with their pisspoor car and even poorer strategy. And to top it off, his boss was now making comments to the media about how he needed to spend less time on the sim rig the night before a race, making Max scoff. As if Horner knew more about winning a race than a 3 time world champion, Max thought angrily, yanking off his helmet as he stormed straight to his boss's office to give him a piece of his mind after another disappointing P3 finish.

Horner was having none of it, though, telling Max some bullshit about how the team needed to have a united front blah blah blah. Max has already tuned him out, cause what the fuck does he mean the team - he was the one bringing home the results every weekend, and anyone who tried to say otherwise just needed to look at the track record of Max completely dominating his teammates in equal machinery. God, he hadn’t gotten this mad in a long time, so he excuses himself rudely as he can tell he’s about to wreck something if he has to hear another one of Horner’s excuses. He wrenches open the office door just to have you stumble straight into his firm chest as you try to enter it.

You, Christian’s Horner’s daughter from his first wedding, freshly graduated from some private all girls college. He’d met you 3 months ago while you were trotting about like the spoiled little brat you undoubtedly were. No job, just using your degree as decor while you used your daddy’s fame to find yourself a rich man to spread your legs for, he had speculated, knowing just your type.

And it irritated him to no end that you looked the picture of innocence, an angelic figure in your white minidress and kitten heels and wide doe eyes, with a matching purity ring and all - even though your pretty tits and fat ass were openly ogled by many a male staff member. Max himself had to readjust his pants a few times when he’d seen you bend over.

He’d assumed you’d try to sink your gold digging claws into him soon enough, wanting some of his multimillionaire status for yourself, but you’d surprised him by skittishly avoiding him, almost looking a little scared, which he found amusing. He supposed he did dwarf your 5 foot frame though, and you had all the aura of a sweet little lamb compared to the Dutch lion. You’d surprised him again last month, when you’d introduced your dad to your pick of a first boyfriend - Tim, a docile looking, short guy who was a lowly new hire in the F4 reserve category. Too far down in the rankings to do any real benefit to your status. Conveniently, though, Tim’s father happened to own a software development app that was currently in the process of a $3 million acquisition deal. Chump change to someone like Max, but like he said, he knew your type, didn’t he?

But he’d been most surprised when he’d overheard moaning one night when he’d stayed late in the garage - and had pervily gone to investigate down the abandoned hallway and into one of the empty rooms - only to get an instant hard on at the sight of you on your knees, dress pulled down to your waist and those delicious tits out on display. So entranced by the angelic vision, Max hadn’t even noticed your loser boyfriend - till a scowl appeared on your pretty face as Tim furiously jerked his tiny dick off in front of you. He was panting and whining, sweat running down his face as he pathetically begged please, please can i touch your boobs-

You were no scared little lamb now as you snapped at him viciously. No! I told you, only looking and no touching! I promised daddy I would stay pure for my husband- Eww! Oh my god, what is that?

You’d been cut off as your boyfriend came, his small, clear load weakly spurting past his fist so that only a couple of drops landed on your caramel skin. Max had thought you’d been lying about the purity bullshit, just wanting an excuse to avoid Tim’s touch - but his eyes narrowed at your look of disgust at your boyfriend’s dick, and the genuinely puzzled expression on your face as you tried to figure out what the clear fluid that landed on you was - making the impressive semi he still rocked twitch, despite your pathetic boyfriend ruining his show. Interesting, you were still a virgin, huh?

Sure, you’d piqued his interest then, but he ignored you now as you stumble back from his hard chest, wide brown doe eyes blinking up at him. He’s still furious with Horner and starts to move past you but your aggravating father perks up, asking if you could show Max where his new drivers' room was in the refurbished wing, so that he could cool down and destress in peace after today’s race. Of course, daddy, you responded sweetly, making Max’s cock stir. He eyed you doubtfully as you lead the way. You had to know what you were doing, a grown woman using that word, right? But then again, he’d seen you call Horner by that title in a team wide press conference, making GP choke on his water next to him - so maybe not.

His anger hadn’t dissipated one bit as you approached his room, in a much more secluded area of the new wing for him to “cool down” as Horner had passively aggressively suggested. Still clearly nervous in his presence, you accidentally dropped the key you’d fished out. As you bent over to collect them, your miniskirt rose up, revealing your juicy ass peeking past your white cotton panties. Oh, he’d found the perfect way to get back at his boss, Max thought devilishly.

As you unlocked the door, he stepped in behind you, giving you no choice but to stumble inside - and then he’d casually stopped in front of the door to block your exit. You nervously twirled your keycard in your fingers, shuffling side to side.

Why don’t you sit down, he offered, we should get to know each other, yeah? You still looked like you wanted to bolt any second, but at Max’s authoritative tone you gingerly sat down on the plush couch.

He started with some generic bullshit about how he’d seen you around, you were his boss’s daughter after all, and as Horner’s best driver he should be on good terms with you too, no?

You relaxed, now looking up to meet his eyes and smiling brightly, pleased that the great Max Verstappen had come to seek your favour. You start saying that it was nice to meet him too, you’d heard lots about him, he was such an incredible driver-

You hadn’t noticed Max discreetly locking the door behind him. Stepping forward, he responded neutrally to your excited questions as he casually strips off his top layer, leaving him shirtless.

You abruptly stop talking, going pink in the face, and he asks what’s wrong, I’m just getting changed, are you a virgin or something? His mocking tone makes it clear that he still didn’t quite believe you were one. When you don’t reply, he gently lifts your face up with his large hand. And as your eyes shyly rise up to meet his, desperately avoiding looking at his broad, toned abs, there’s no faking the genuine innocence in them. I am, you stutter out. A virgin, I mean. I made a promise to daddy to wait till marriage.

You twirl your promise ring around anxiously as you say it. Max didn’t know what kind of sick brainwashing Horner had been subjecting his daughter too, but he fully intended to use it to his advantage. Really? He says slyly. Does your daddy know you let your little boyfriend jerk off on your tits?

You gasp, then glare as you demanded to know how he knew that, had he been watching, that was soo creepy and gross -

There’s the bratty angel he knew had been hiding. He cuts you off, confirming that yes, he’d been watching - but you’d been the dirty girl who seduced her innocent boyfriend in the garage for just anyone to see, hadn’t you?

You’d look outraged at his statements, but he reminded you of the power he had when he nonchalantly mentioned that he hadn’t planned on telling your father, but now that he knew about the promise you had made - well, it was his duty to let Horner know what kind of naughty things you’d been doing behind his back, right?

That had wiped the bratty glare right off your face, instead making you wide eyed and tremble with fear at the thought of your daddy finding out. You begged Max to keep your secret. Please don’t tell him, he would die, you'd do anything to stop him knowing!

Jackpot. Smirking darkly, Max pretended to consider your option before saying that he supposed he could keep it to himself if you helped him destress and relax like your father had sent you here to do, okay?

You nodded eagerly, looking up at him with those innocent doe eyes as he stepped right in front of you, watching you predatorily. His thick fingers brush along your pink lips, and his eyes darken as you instinctively take them into your mouth, sucking sweetly. Oh, you were going to be such a sweet little angel for him, he just knew it.

Within seconds he had you dropping your dress down to your waist, exposing those lush, pretty tits of yours. You blushed when he stared hungrily and ordered you to play with them, and at first you obliged and gently squeezed them, but then stopped to brattily ask just how this was supposed to help destress him, was he just being pervy again?

Great point, he said, and sat down next to you to easily lift you into his lap, taking over and roughly palming your tits. N-no touching! You had squealed, desperately trying to escape his strong arms. Rolling his eyes, he forced you back against him, explaining that it was okay, you knew that it didn’t count if it was to help him destress, right? And besides, nothing would affect your promise to your daddy except a man’s cock actually entering your precious virgin hole-

Okay! You had said frantically to put a stop to his explicit words, face flushed. Okay, if you promise it doesn’t count, I’ll still be a virgin, right?

God, it was so cute how naive you were. You hadn’t even realised that if what Max was saying was true then there was nothing illicit with what you and Tim had done - and Max had nothing to hold over you. Right, Angel, Max promised, enjoying the dazed look you gave him at the nickname as he squeezed your tits, bending down to take a pretty nipple into his mouth. It doesn’t count.

And that was how Max had his boss’s innocent little daughter wrapped around his fingers, ready to do whatever he asked of her, as long as he kept your secret. It was such a rush, having his way with you right under your father’s nose, being able to punish you for his crimes and ruining you more and more each time Horner pissed him off - and oh, did he piss Max off constantly.

So the next race, he’d had you fully strip for him, and yes, even those cute panties, Angel, when you’d whined, embarrassed from his intense gaze. You’d bit your lip and slid them off, obediently spreading your legs and gently playing with yourself like he’d asked, using unfamiliar movements. Soon enough you’d become accustomed to Max’s hungry stares at your innocent parts and began thrusting your tiny fingers inside your virgin cunny, because it had started to feel sooo good and soo tingly down there, and you’d never felt like that before.

You’d become distracted, closing your eyes from the sensation and when you opened them you shrieked, because Max was now standing right above you, greedily looking down at your petite form as he stroked his own private parts - called a cock, he’d made you repeat. He’d also warned you never to scream again in his room, or he’d gag you next time and tell your dad about Tim. You pouted, nodding obediently, but whining that you got scared Maxie, why was it so big, so angry, was it going to hurt you?

Of course not, Angel he’d reassured at the next race again, this time making you sit next to him, naked except for your kitten heels and a lacy blue thong he’d had delivered to your house - your father as clueless as ever when he handed the package over to you. It won’t hurt you, he promised, but it's very hard from stress and needs you to help drain it, okay?

He’d guided you to his large cock, smirking evilly as you struggled to grip him even with two hands. He moved one large hand over both of yours, showing you how to jerk him off the way he liked. You’d picked it up very quickly, innocently asking him why Tim's cock was so much tinier that his. Cause, Angel, I'm just a better man than he is, he had said with a chuckle. Oh, you had said, then - I hope my husband is a good man then, and has a big cock like you.

Oh, Jesus. Max was definitely going to hell after this. Feeling his peak approaching, he ordered you onto your knees, making you hold your tits up - and then proceeded to cover them with his thick, creamy release, so much of it that it dripped down onto your stomach - and much more than the time you had seen Tim’s cock explode. You’d almost screamed again but bit your tongue at the last minute, remembering Max’s threat last time. But it didn’t stop you from glaring up at him, brattily asking what this gross stuff was, eww, you didn’t want it on you-

That’s fine, Max had said cooly. That’s fine, because next time he'd make you drink it all instead. Your eyes went wide at that, tears forming and you adamantly denied Max, saying you’d never do something like that, it sounded pervy and dirty.

But your reluctance meant nothing to Max, as he smirked at you from your fathers side the next day, whispering something in his ear that had your daddy looking over at you and an icy chill running down your back. You were petrified as you got a text from your father to come see him in his office now, walking in on the verge of tears only to have him smile delightedly at you because Max mentioned you’d been very supportive of his races lately, it’s been a big reason why he’s so much more of a team player these days, so proud of you for helping the team, sweetie!

You’d accepted his praise, blushing from the attention, and later had dutifully wandered back to Max’s room to greet him after the race. He smirked at finding you there, already naked except for a pink lacey thong and heels, on your knees for him, shyly thanking him for keeping your secret and saying such nice things to your daddy. Of course, Angel, he murmured, unzipping himself. You know just how to say thank you then, hmm? And you obediently nodded, jerking him off like he’d taught you, then licking and sucking on his cock when he asked, and then taking all of his length inside your eager throat at his command, gagging the whole way as he tutted disapprovingly at you, taking over and controlling the pace with his large hands. It had really hurt your tiny mouth, and you couldn’t speak properly afterwards, but seeing Maxie swear and tell you how good you were doing, how he never wanted to let you go, made that tingly feeling come back in between your legs again. Instead of ignoring it like you normally did, this time you couldn't resist fingering yourself, thong pushed the side as you shoved your fingers inside your wet cunny.

Maxie had gone breathless seeing that, and then he tensed before you felt his warm, sticky thick cum fill your mouth. You swallowed every drop, opening your mouth afterwords for him to inspect. Good girl, he said, patting your head. My sweet angel, you drained my stress so well. Oh, so that’s what it was, you say innocently. I’m glad I made you feel better, Maxie.

After that, there were no races for a whole month as the paddock went into summer break. You had thought you’d be glad for the relief from Maxie and his mean demands, but you found yourself texting him often, missing his loving kisses and touches after you helped relieve his stress, missing the tingly feeling you got when he looked predatorily at you spread open for him.

You’d been shocked when you opened your eyes as a shadow had blocked out the sun while you were sunbathing at your family’s St Tropez holiday home, only to find Max grinning down at you, saying your dad had invited him to come for the week. Had you been doing your homework? You nodded diligently, looking at the banana you’d been practising swallowing whole without gagging to copy the dirty video Max had texted you of a petite woman eagerly sucking a very big cock - he must be a good man, you’d thought, just like your Maxie.

Secretly, you were so glad he was here, shooting him looks over the dinner table as he sung praises about what a good friend you’d been to him, helping him get back to P1, making your daddy proudly pat your head. And after dinner when everyone had gone to bed, he joined you in the hot tub to unwind. You’d excitedly begun to tell him about what you had been upto on the break when you felt his thick fingers creeping up the inside of your thighs. You’d frozen instantly, because Maxie had never touched you there himself, but before you could say anything your father stepped out onto the veranda, asking you something about your plans for the next day.

Answer him, Max mouthed, smirking as you had no choice but to let him keep gliding up your legs and undoing your tiny bikini. And when your daddy had gone back inside, oblivious that the flush on your face wasn’t from the heat of the pool, you’d tried to shove Max’s hand away, brattily saying you didn’t want his hand near your private parts, that was just for your husband-

Doesn’t count, Angel, Max had cooed, easily overpowering you and sliding a finger in, much thicker and longer than yours and making you squeal as he started pumping it in and out of you. And he hadn’t stopped despite your half hearted protests, because you’d started to feel really good, really tingly, and Maxie, I feel funny, I think I’m going to pee-

After you had your first orgasm, he carried your tired figure back into the house, setting you down and licking your cum off his fingers. And then, through your half asleep state, you felt his tongue swirling around your nipples, leaving hickeys and then trailing down, and down before his warm breath gently blew over your puffy cunny. And then you felt his wide tongue licking your folds, making you gasp awake and squeal cause why was he kissing you down there, that’s so pervy-

But he’d easily bullied you back into quiet muffled moans again, your skimpy bikini bottoms shoved inside your mouth as he warned you that your father was going to wake up right next door and come investigate if you didn’t shut up. So you reluctantly let him continue his filthy kissing, spitting and licking on your most innocent parts until you felt you had to pee again. He grinned wickedly as you squirted a second time, completely ruining the sheets, before redressing your passed out figure in a comfy hoodie. You felt the ghost of a sweet kiss on your forehead before he walked away.

You avoided him the next few days, glaring when he would approach you, angry he’d kissed you somewhere only your husband should. He’d promised you were still a virgin, sure, but still! It was just too much, wasn’t it?

But you’d been unable to resist his advances any longer when he’d cornered you in the family study one day when everyone else had gone out to the markets. He’d sweetly apologised, presenting you with a new Dior bag he’d had speed delivered that morning, and you happily snatched it up, gasping with delight as you look inside to find a Cartier bracelet. You’ll forgive me, right, Angel? Max had said, slowly wrapping his arms around you from behind and rubbing his practically blue balls against your plush ass as you distractedly admire your new gifts. I just wanted to make you feel good, hmm?

You nodded breathlessly, agreeing that you supposed it had felt really good, you liked that tingly feeling in between your legs. Yeah? Max had grinned, kissing you and slipping his tongue inside and saying that he knew a way to make you feel even better, Angel, and you’d still be a virgin after it, he pinky promises, okay?

With the new Dior bag and diamond bracelet you’d become a lot more agreeable, and didn’t protest as he laid you back on your father’s study table, lifting your miniskirt over your hips and grinning wickedly when he found no panties - just your glistening pussy. Y-you always just rip them anyways, Maxie you pouted.

Oh, you secretly wanted this, didn’t you? Acting all bratty just cause you wanted to make him work for it, he was certain. Your sweet body was such a good plaything for him that he didn’t really mind, deciding not to punish you for avoiding him.

You curiously watch as he unzips himself, taking his thick cock out, then you squeal adamantly in protest when he brings it close to your innocent hole. Shh, Angel, it’s just on the outside, he’d promised, I won’t put it in, it’ll feel so good, trust me.

And it had felt sooo good, making you bite your lip and toss your head back as he dragged his warm length along your folds, slapping your clit a few times with his cockhead, making you spread your soft legs invitingly as you felt the addictive tingly feeling come back again.

He’d been unable to resist the temptation, sliding just the tip into your virgin cunny- but you’d immediately screamed in protest, twisting away and he had generously released you from his hold, tongue in cheek as you sashayed away with a backwards glare, Dior bag in hand. He’d had to leave the next day, and you didn’t see him the rest of the break.

After the break, you had seemed different to Max. You carried the brattiness openly in your eyes, confident now in your ability to seduce him as he has brought such expensive apology gifts just for a little taste of your virginity.

You had infuriatingly said no when he tried to rub himself against your cunny at the next race, and at the one after that, so here he was, stuck fingering you and sliding his tongue in and out of your folds for the 3rd time this week while his cock ached to be buried inside you - when the wicked idea came to him.

He’d made sure to have all the preparations ready for the next race, knowing you would be a brat and try to weasel your way out of it. Like he’d predicted, you make your way to his plush sofa, spreading your legs to show off your naked pussy and demanding he come kiss it how you liked.

Oh, his Angel had become quite the spoilt little bitch, hasn’t she? He’d have to make sure you learned your lesson about who was in charge around here. You smirk as he drags his tongue up and down your puffy folds, thinking you had the millionaire driver all wrapped around your fingers. His thick third and ring fingers join his tongue, making you moan and close your eyes as he pumps them into your pussy. And then, his thumb drops down, lower, to circle your other winking hole before sliding inside.

You’d jumped in shock, naively asking why he was touching your dirty hole, that’s so embarrassing, you don’t want him to touch that place!

Max cooes that he couldn’t care less, besides, he can clean it out for you, yeah? If he just slides his cock in, just a little bit, he can make sure it’s all clean for you.

Your eyes go impossibly wide at the thought of his big cock anywhere near your ass. You furiously close your legs, brattily telling him that you’d had enough, wasn’t he just being a pervert now, and you’d already broken up with Tim ages ago and since Max seemed to be very relaxed now given his P1s has resumed you didn’t think you needed to help him out anymore!

Time to pull out the big guns. Sitting back on the sofa now, Max palms his growing erection as he calls out to you, making you pause from where your hand rested on the doorknob.

You know, Angel, I’ve had a lot of creepy fans sneak onto the garage lately. Some even got into my room. I guess they just really wanted to see me shirtless, huh?

You turn around to look at him, confused, until your eyes slowly widen in horror as he points to the camera tucked in the corner. There’s no trace of sympathy on his handsome face as he starts lazily jerking himself off, telling you that it had been your fathers idea to set it up, for his safety, and he’d even kindly offered to go through all the footage later - he took any threats against his prized driver very seriously.

You panicked, already teary eyed at the thought of your father seeing you spreading your legs sluttily and demanding Max pleasure you. You immediately dropped to your knees, begging Max to keep the tape himself-

Now why would I do that, Angel? Max cooes, getting harder at the sight of you kneeling in front of him and crying for his help. After all, you’re the one who’s forcing him to kiss her pussy on that video, hmm?

He knows he has you right where he wants you as you beg him, offering up your precious pussy to slide against again if he wanted, just don’t go inside, okay?

That’s not the hole he wants, Angel, he told you darkly. No - he wanted your other hole, the dirty embarrassing one, and he wants to sink his entire cock inside it.

He watches you stutter and gasp, before you take a deep breath and naively ask My husband won’t be able to tell, right Maxie? I’ll still be a virgin?

Max smirks. Of course, Angel. You know he’d never break your precious promise. And with that, you’re ready to become his obedient pet again, blankly turning around and sticking your ass up in the air like he asks, spreading your cheeks for him to look at.

And oh, Max takes his sweet time looking, enjoying the twisted satisfaction of having completely broken you down like this. He generously douses you in lube, making you squeal at the chill, before he’s furiously pumping his thumb inside your impossibly tight back hole. You tremble as he lines his cock up, ordered you to relax or it’ll hurt, Angel. Slowly sinking inside, he moans as he finally finds his way into your heat, feeling like he’s reached heaven. Tears stream down your face as you wail once he begins meanly thrusting, wickedly taking your anal virginity all for himself and giving you his fingers to suckle on and keep quiet.

He doesn’t stop until he’s finished inside you, panting heavily and pushing his matted hair out of his eyes, pressing kisses down your spine to let you know you did so well for him.

He pulls out with a wet squelch, enjoying the sight of his cum dripping out of your poor, abused little hole. Sitting back comfortably on the sofa, legs spread, he gives you a cocky smirk as you turn around, still seated on the ground in front of him.

Now clean it up, he demands meanly. He can’t have your hole make his cock dirty now, can he? And you obediently responded, crawling forward with glazed eyes, licking him clean from balls to tip like he’s trained you to do.

After that night, Max had held you completely in the palm of his hand. You’d be the perfect angel for him, doing whatever he wanted wherever he wanted - except for entering your innocent pussy, of course. He’d let you keep it yours for now, finding the fantasy hot. He’d buy you a diamond ring one of these days, he mused, so that you’d beg him to finally claim your virginity.

But for now, he had a couple other tricks to try out. And if you’d try to refuse, he’ll pull up the video he has on his phone of your eyes rolling back as Max ate you out on your father’s work desk from summer break.

He’d taken you back to his hotel room to teach you those tricks, making you wail and scream his name without restriction, headboard banging against the wall. It was hilarious when Horner had come upto him at breakfast the next morning, patting his back and saying it sounded like he’d been celebrating his win very well last night, congratulations, he deserves it and sounded like the girl couldn’t get enough!

Max had to hold back his laughter, as your clueless father had no idea he was carrying an extra croissant up for the very same girl who couldn’t get enough - his precious little daughter, who still lay sleeping in his hotel bed, exhausted from his dirty activities all night.

You’d ended up missing your flight back, making some weak excuse to your daddy and had followed Max into his private jet, obediently spreading yourself open for him as he pulled you behind the privacy screen. The flight attendants had blushed as they heard your eager moans and the lewd sounds of Max greedily fucking your ass again.

And when you landed, greeting your waiting family, Max had to discreetly wipe the line of cum that trickled down your skirt. You didn’t have to worry, though, he’d already thoughtfully ordered another delivery of sexy underwear straight to your home 🖤

—————————————————————————

A/N: I actually gave myself post nut clarity writing this (post writing smut clarity?? Post smut conscience??) time to go outside and reconnect with nature. As always,,,lmk what u think 🤔

[wen-kexing-apologist]

BL/QL Ask game : The Ugly, the Bad and the Worst

Alright, I was tagged in this game by @clara-maybe-ontheroad, so it's time to make some enemies.

Worst soundtrack / weirdest song choice in a BL

I don’t really pay the most attention to this, I can’t recall anything that sticks out to me as particularly egregious even if it may be a tad odd. Weirdest song choice though is Jojo and Ninew letting First sing in Only Friends. I love the boy but we all have our flaws and his is being horrifically out of tune.

Most cringe-inducing line (cute)

“Then I am gay too,” Bee from Between Us. A show that I did actually enjoy despite many people grumbling. I hold that it’s cause I didn’t wait three years for it, and didn’t know Until We Meet Again existed when I started watching it. But regardless, Bee and Prince had like 5 minutes of screen time, max and they won my motherfucking heart.

Most cringe-inducing line (actually bad)

Not a specific line, but literally any time that Nuea questions whether or not Hia Lian loves him in Cutie Pie 2 You. Bestie, you already agonized over that for far, far too long in Cutie Pie, by the time you ran out of the marriage proposal at your father in law’s birthday, I was already way past over the bullshit. And now you want to get back on the bullshit when you are planning your wedding? Come on…

Most stupid decision made by a character

I agree with @bengiyo, Teh giving up his spot in school for Oh. Honestly, you know what, looking even further back the stupidest decision was Oh and Teh’s friends coming up to Teh AT FOUR O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING THE DAY HE WAS GOING TO GO COMMIT TO COLLEGE TO TELL HIM OH WAS GIVING UP. Y’all couldn’t have fucking waited like…one day? You know Teh is stupid motherfucker prone to grand gestures.

Worst plot line

“I’m going to kill your mother from third hand cigarette smoke and spend the last hour and a half of a genuinely otherwise beautifully crafted show making the world’s longest anti-smoking campaign” by New Siwaj in My Only 12%. What a way to ruin a show at the very last minute.

The most problematic show you've watched

Fish Upon the Sky, what in the racism, support of stalking, invasion of privacy, manipulation was that show?

A show people love but you find bad

Enchante. I just hate Theo so goddamn much.

A show people find bad but you will defend

Also gonna agree with @bengiyo here and say Wedding Plan, I have seen so little conversation around that show since it aired and it was super adorable and very very outside of MAME’s typical taboos. Just fluff, lesbianism, and lavender marriages abound. But if you think La Pluie is bad, then I will fight you to an early grave.

A show that is just objectively bad but you enjoyed it

I wouldn’t say it is my favorite, but I didn’t mind Vice Versa, but maybe that’s cause I was paying attention to trying to predict the next episode’s colors and not to the plot?

A bad show that you kept watching because you were intrigued/fascinated

Mine is the same as @waitmyturtles. It’s currently still airing, so it’s entirely possible I drop it, but, Dangerous Romance, I am so mad at how quickly it is brushing past interesting topics, but I am still watching it because I am curious where they intend to go with it. I don’t think they can salvage it, but I need to know what it is they want to say that made them think handling this show the way they are is better than exploring literally any of the class questions presented in the first couple episodes.

A bad show that you kept watching because you were horny

I don’t really watch shows because I am horny,  I watch shows because- Why R U? FighterTutor, only reason I watched that show, I skipped through most of the rest of it.

A bad show that you kept watching because of that one character

Why R U? Because Fighter was such a compelling character and I thought Zee did a phenomenal job in the way he handled Fighter’s internalized homophobia. I wish they were giving Zee more complicated roles than Hia Lian because he’s a strong actor and I think his talent is wasted on Cutie Pie.

A bad show that you would still recommend

I don’t really recommend shows that I think are bad to people, so it is a case by case basis. I did not end up liking A Boss and a Babe, but I did recommend @emotionallychargedtowel watch at least some of it so she could get a better idea of Book’s acting ability.

The character that ruined a show the most

Nadia, My Ride. She’s such a self-entitled, incredibly judgemental bitch and I hate her, runner up is Toy for destroying Boss’ bookshelf.

Most awful character that you hated

Tawan, KinnPorsche. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. I was glad when he died, and I must commend Na for his performance because he did such a good job playing an asshole that I still hate his face when I see it.

Most awful character that you loved

Korn from KinnPorsche, I am obsessed with how casually evil he is, and how he keeps his loyalty through faked compassion rather than abusive fear the way Gun does. He’s consistently winning, even when his lies are revealed. I think he does a superb job of flying under the radar as a visibly awful character. But he’s a terrible person.

A character that wasn't awful but that you just don't like

Saifah, Why R U? It’s not his fault, but I just hate Jimmy’s face.

A hero that should have been a villain

Palm, Never Let Me Go, I had too many theories about the ways in which Palm could have betrayed Nuengdiao. Hell, I’d have settled for Chanon being a villain, but no, only loyalty :(

A morally bad character you're into

*ahem* *gestures to my username*

Wen Kexing, Word of Honor who has done nothing wrong in his entire life.

A morally bad character you're not into and you wish people would stop being into

Theo, Enchante, I hate that motherfucker with a burning passion. I know that I said I think Book should be able to play more assholes cause he’s doing a great job with Mew’s revenge era, but Theo was a goddamn fucking major asshole who was not really presented as such.

The show that disappointed you the most

Again, it’s not done yet, so there is still time to maybe climb out of this hole, but I am very disappointed by Dangerous Romance at the moment.

The Worst Show of Them All Because of Your Own Reasons

Enchante because how the fuck do you think it is okay to write a romance where one of the romantic interests both creates the most fucked up, convoluted lie to mess with your feelings, AND is so goddamn helpless that you GET FIRED FROM YOUR JOB FOR HELPING HIM, and not have either of those things be a wake up call or deal breaker?!

Tagging @ranchthoughts, @respectthepetty, @solitaryandwandering

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Harry Dresden Does Not Handle Exes Well

If Storm Front was the general introduction to the world, Fool Moon to werewolves, and Grave Peril to the Vampire Courts, then Summer Knight is where we meet the Fae Courts, and they are unequivocably the most dangerous of the factions Dresden has interacted with so far. Harry's actions and interactions with the Queens and Ladies in this book echo into the rest of the series, and have consequences all the way through Peace Talks and Battle Ground. That said, this book is also weirdly bifurcated in terms of Harry's personal character arc--he had man pain and girl trouble--and the plot-y, political stuff with the council and fae courts. Let's talk Summer Knight.

As per usual, FULL SERIES SPOILERS below the break, so be warned.

Harry opens this book hardcore wallowing in guilt and self-loathing over Susan's abortive transformation, exodus from his life, and his own inability to reverse the change. He hasn't showered or shaved in way too long, he's about to be evicted from everywhere, and all his friends are trying and failing to stage interventions.

Then the high school sweetheart he low-key thought he might have accidentally murdered after she betrayed him to their abusive foster father/teacher (who Harry killed in a duel) quite literally knocks on his front door.

And this is on top of Murphy--who has fully shifted into BFF territory at this point--struggling with psychic scars that Harry also blames himself for. Being a mortal woman in Harry Dresden's orbit honestly sounds EXHAUSTING because this man has exactly zero sense of the balance required to actually help someone. Harry gets lost in his own man pain and how he somehow "should" be able to throw raw power at a problem and fix it, and the next thing you know, the women who are reasonably dealing with their own trauma suddenly have to drag Harry's ass out of his pain over their pain. There is a reason flight attendants tell you to put on your own mask before assisting others. Hell, even Elaine says it to Harry at the end of the book:

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Harry. [...] I understand that there's something you're blaming yourself for. I'm just guessing at the details, but its pretty clear you were driving yourself into the ground because of it. Get over it. You aren't going to do her any good as a living mildew collection. Stop thinking about how bad you feel--because if she cares about you at all, it would tear her up to see you like I saw you a few days ago.

This is not the last time someone calls Harry out for not helping, but it honestly isn't until about Skin Game that the Susan stuff and its aftermath get fully resolved. Not to get too TMI on main, but honestly Harry reminds me of a college boyfriend I had who just could not handle my health stuff. And that's not a judgment thing, not everyone can handle everything, but where Harry falls down on the goddamn job here is not knowing where his own weaknesses are and compensating for them. His pattern of "but muh man pain" holds all the way through the series, literally up to and including Battle Ground.

So suffice it to say that I'm not a huge fan of Harry Dresden Goes to Peices over Both His Ex-Griflriends. So what did I like about this book?

Couple things.

I loved that Harry finally brought Murphy fully into the supernatural world fold. I don't love his sexist bullshit with her, but I spent a lot of the series ignoring that because the rest of their dynamic is really damn good. And Murphy handing the Chlorofiend its own ass is never not awesome.

I also really, really enjoyed the introduction of the fae courts. Butcher really did take just a massive double handful of fairy myth threads and weave them into something magical (if perpetually horny in a way that gets really complicated and more than a little contradictory later). Summer and Winter more or less seem to map onto the Seelie and Unseelie courts, and the power structures more or less steal from the maiden (lady)/mother (queen)/crone (mother) structure of triple goddesses across the world. Not to mention that we get folkloric and fantasy creatures from trolls and centaurs to red caps and Jenny Greenteeth throughout the courts. We even get things like changelings and Victorian Era-inspired small folk. We also get the dangers of fairy bargains, food, and glamor. I would be hard-pressed to point to a fairytale/fae folk tradition that doesn't get some level of wink-and-nod at some point in the series. Hell, we even get a cheeky final line from Shakespeare's fairy play, at which point you've officially ticked every box.

Overall, I would have to say that the worldbuilding and the fae courts were what really kept me reading this book. I loved the synthesis of lore and myth in creating them, and the little bait and switch we get with Winter being the straight shooting court and Summer being absofuckingloutely terrifying in its duplicity is a nice touch that honestly I didn't appreciate on earlier reads.

[trickster-whim]

Hi. It's so slagging hot here. I'm not sure if we'll have any days under 100 during October, but that hasn't stopped me taking walks!

So I went to goodwill earlier this week, and there wasn't a lot of interesting stuff there, but on really cool thing was the little sewing machine.

It was about 1/6 scale, maybe a little short, but could work for different sizes. I also think it was definitely missing some pieces. still, you can turn the wheel, and the needle moves up and down, and it's so cute!

I took a lot of pictures because I thought it was so cool, but I didn't buy it. I'm trying to convince myself more that I don't need every cool little thing I find.

Some things that were very easy to convince myself I didn't need were in the paper stuff section:

Someone was getting rid of some old crushes, huh? If I was more into Dragonball I would have gotten the notebook, but I really only watched it when I was a kid. And I hate Sherlock Holmes.

And just to the side were a bunch of matted fortnite pictures for some reason?

Not that weird, I guess, but not something I was expecting to find. I don't play, but I do like to watch the McElroys play.

And then I headed home, and it was so goddamn hot.

And, uh, related, I guess... I accidentally rekindled my obsession with Transformers by finding an old notebook where I wrote my fanfictions so.... I am unfortunately back on my bullshit. So while I was walking home, I was also reading this one person's fic that I was obsessed with in college. Imo, it's still good so far, but it does make me so full of undirected adhd energy that I have to go run around outside, because unfortunately it is "uncouth" and "a noise complaint" to yell and throw things because of these dorks. And also unfortunately it's still in the 105-110F range out there, so I had to sit in the shade at the park before spontaneously combusting from the neverending sunlight. Didn't stop me from going out again later in the week, but you know. Some day the constant heat exhaustion will filter through to my two brain cells and I'll stop going out if it's over 100. Someday.

[jiminrings]

OMFG I LOVE STEM KOO'S FIRST KISS DRABBLE SKDHJSLDB how about for the next part,, idk,, they take it a lil further???? 👀👀

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

jungkook's shy and inexperienced, but you don't mind — you give him his first blowjob anyway

Jungkook wants to sue.

Without a doubt, Jungkook wants to sue the people behind every coming-of-age movie and show that have ever been made throughout history. Now that he truly thinks about it, they are nothing but fragrant bullshit portrayed by too-old actors (read: Paxton from Never Have I Ever) and can only bring the occasional smile when the music score heightens at what's supposed to be the climax of the plot.

Is he the target market? Not really, but he used to be. Jungkook’s in college and not in high school anymore after all — he’s all-grown and he gets atleast two follower requests a week from former high school classmates that he hasn’t really bothered spending time with.

Is he painfully aware that he’s beyond attractive and actually looks unreal? Not at all, but you nonchalantly call him handsome atleast once a day. He’s getting good with receiving compliments now, just grinning when you quietly compliment his hoodie from his ever-growing collection instead of full-on having a squealing fit to his pillow with his cheeks and ears red.

But your compliments aren’t the problem though. It’s these goddamn coming-of-age movies and his overreaching brain that’s trying to correlate it to you.

You’re his lovely girlfriend (who he still thinks is too god for him) that’s a year older than him, is a senior in college, has a lot more experience and knowledge, and is effortlessly just cool; he thinks you’re the blueprint.

Jungkook’s a year younger than you, is a junior in college, lacks tons of practical experience and knowledge, most likely to get drunk with just sparkling water, and can’t do that thing of reversing the car and holding on to the back of the front seat’s backrest while looking at the rear end.

In other words, Jungkook has never had a blowjob before and he wouldn’t hesitate to throw a knife to the television if it had to play one more coming-of-age movie.

“What are you thinking about now, hm?”

Your question startles him from his train of thought, the gentle tone amplifying in Jungkook's panicked state as if you could read his mind. The chuckle over his wide-eyed expression leaves you before you even realize and atleast that eases him slightly, the arm draped across your shoulder suddenly feeling unsure.

“You don’t hate me, right?” Jungkook speaks thickly and for the first time, you feel as if it's Jungkook this time that catches you off-guard in your own space. He looks down on his lap when you blink at him owlishly, retracting his hands and picking at the material of his sweatpants instead. “You don’t hate me even if I’m inexperienced and you gave me my first kiss just a week ago?”

“No, baby. Where’s all this coming from?”

Rarely do you ever call him baby, and Jungkook doesn't know what he's supposed to feel. He could feel the worry in your system and he's only slightly guilty, wanting to get to the bottom of what his mind's been going off on all day.

“Do you hate it that you’re the one who’s gonna give me all my first experiences?”

The unexpected endearment that he brings with such a loaded question makes your chest flutter, feeling special enough that Jungkook's already thought that far ahead to think of all the firsts there could ever be.

"No," you answer sincerely, "but do you want me to?"

Jungkook thinks he's never answered a question so quick before.

“Of course I do. I want no one else.”

His eyes are a little blown-out with how he's trying to digest his thoughts and your answers at the same time but he means it sincerely even then, the corners of his mouth automatically upturning when you press a kiss to his cheek.

You initially thought that the peck on his cheek would suffice as it normally did, but you were immediately proved wrong the moment Jungkook's knee starts bouncing.

His heels are tapping the wooden floor and that doesn't bother you at all. The impromptu beat he's making is off? Not a problem either. But just like when Yoongi or Jin does it, what bothers you the most is when the cushions also start bouncing. It throws you off and puts a scowl in your face immediately, one that you know your two best friends would try to milk out of you by bouncing their knees more annoyingly.

Jungkook feels a stern hand on his knee and when he looks at you, you're not even looking at him.

“Say what you want to say.”

His mouth turns dry because how could you possibly know that's something still in his mind? Perhaps you've known all along and normally, he knew you would wait for him to open it up again instead of prying for an answer. Probably, it has to do with him bouncing his knee that escalated his admission further.

“I-I think I’m ready.”

“For what?” You tilt your head at him to try and gauge the reaction in his face because he was being vague and you're not all-knowing. You keep your gaze on him for a second longer and then it clicks in your mind with the way he refuses to look at you. “You don’t have to do anything you aren’t fully ready for, Jungkook.”

He immediately shakes his head because he thinks that what you're thinking is not what he meant. “No, no — not that. I mean like-“ he cuts himself short when the words slip from his tongue, the delayed embarrassment seeping into him a little later, "... a-a blowjob.”

Your eyes only blink once and Jungkook doesn't know how to take that, wincing at the moment your lips curl into a little smile.

“B-but you’re not obligated to give me one! Fuck, shit, I’m sorry for asking I-...”

“Okay.”

You hum and for a second, Jungkook just thinks he's hearing things. He makes the move of removing his hands from his flushed face that he was eager to cover and he finds you looking right back at him, confirming that he did hear what he thought he'd heard. “Okay?”

You nod in agreement and blink up sweetly at him, placing your hands on your lap. “Do you want it now?”

“Yes, please.” Jungkook's almost ashamed to admit so but he does it nonetheless, not wanting to face the regret he'd feel when he puts this off and gets eaten up by his thoughts even more harshly on the following days.

He's not entirely clueless of blowjobs. He's heard both willingly and unwillingly from other guys of how euphoric it feels. He's just so nervous because he knows what to expect but at the same time, he doesn't have an inkling of what it's actually supposed to feel like.

Jungkook gets taken away from his thoughts the moment you kiss him deeply, instantly melting into your kiss and rendering his thoughts to nothing but you. Out of instinct does he start caressing your thighs clad in shorts as you straddle him at the moment, a satisfied hum coming out of you when his hands venture further to your ass.

"Tell me if you want to stop at any moment, alright?" you nibble on his earlobe that makes him shudder, a whimper caught on his throat. "Alright, baby?"

Jungkook agrees instantly when you tilt his chin with your fingers to look at you, wanting to hear it from him so he'd know that he's in charge of the situation he's putting himself in.

"Good."

Your hands gingerly lift the ends of his hoodie and he helps you remove it from him, his flawless skin breaking into goosebumps at the air hitting him but it goes back to flushing when you put your hands on his chest, your mouth delicately painting on his neck and down to his pec, just teasingly close above his nipple.

"My handsome boy," you say under your breath but Jungkook still hears it, his back arching when you use your nails to gently scratch down from his chest and down to the sides of his waist, hands nestling on his prominent bulge.

You're adjusting your position from his lap and down to the floor instead, making his breath hitch because this is truly happening. "I really love it when you wear gray sweats, y'know?"

"Yeah?" Jungkook toothily grins at the sudden intermission of your words, his body leaning on the couch as he looks at you fixing your hair, "remind me to always wear them around you."

You snort as you come to accept that Jungkook won't be forever shy to your sudden takes and compliments, genuinely not expecting for him to reply to that. "Only around me?"

"I'm okay with that," he giggles and you find yourself mirroring the giddy expression he has on, his sounds of sincere amusement suddenly ceasing when you palm his bulge that's become harder at the short amount of time you took to fix your hair.

Jungkook whines because it feels good but it's just not enough, eyes about to close when he looks at you one more time and sees the position you're in.

“You’re gonna hurt your knees," he's quick to crouch to slip a pillow right underneath your knees before you could even tell him that it's okay, his gesture of worry and affection making your heart even more warm.

You're in love with Jungkook, that's for sure — the same Jungkook who's about to get his first blowjob but goes out of his way to put a pillow under your knees.

The band of his sweatpants travel down by your own ministrations and Jungkook tries to calm his heart that's beating too fast when he sees you locking your eyes at his tight boxer brief and the visible strain his cock is in.

Your core practically pulses around nothing upon seeing Jungkook's cock the moment you wiggle him out of his boxers, unconsciously wetting your lips at the sight.

You haven't even done anything but Jungkook's heavily breathing, breath getting caught in his throat when he sees you peer up at him. The unhinged "you're big, baby — you really have it all, don't you?" going straight to his ego that makes him whimper pathetically.

"I got you, 'mmkay? I'll make you feel good, Kook," you assure him with no doubt and Jungkook doesn't contest it, about to eagerly nod and thank you when you press a wet kiss to the tip of his cock that immediately shuts him up.

You press a kiss again and the needy sounds coming from Jungkook eggs you to tease him but the conscience of just planning to do it another time overcomes you, lips finally wrapping around his head that he mewls at the warmth.

"F-fuck," he grunts when you remove your lips and attach them back to his head but this time with a stronger hold, feeling the tip of your tongue flick on the underside of his cock, "I am so fucked."

Jungkook whines because he thinks it's pathetic because he's already on-edge with just barely the action, yet he pushes it at the back of his head because he knows that this is pleasure unlike no other.

You deem his mewls enough before detaching and he looks at you desperately, the words fuzzy in his mouth along with his mind that's just riddled with chasing pleasure.

He follows your every move — from the way you smirk up at him, to the way you press a chaste kiss on the inside of his thigh, and to the way you sink your warm mouth down to his cock until his head reaches the back of your throat.

"Shit!" Jungkook writhes at the burst of pleasure, moaning the loudest he's ever did and it's music to your ears when he does so. "You're so warm," he grunts in between moans your hands circle his balls and start massaging them right in your hold, making Jungkook throw his head back.

You bob your head up and down his length and the added sensations of your nails dully scratching the small of his back and his thighs make his hips stutter, realizing that he's starting to move.

Not one to disappoint, you adjust your knees to angle yourself further to accommodate his shallow thrusts, wrangled moans coming out of Jungkook every time he hits the back of his throat. "Y-you're so good to me."

Jungkook takes the liberty of tangling his hands in your hair and you let him, not adding any real pressure on pulling your face down to his cock, but you try to sink further down anyway that you gag in the process, the new sensation making Jungkook release a guttural moan that turns into a high-pitched whine.

"You take care of me so good, babe. I-I — fuck!," he's cut short the moment you hollow out your cheeks and moan around his length, the goosebumps propping up from his skin immediately as your added actions take him to a new high, "I-I think I'm gonna cum."

He's almost scared that he will because he is embarrassingly quick and doesn't even realize, but you don't mind at all. He's writhing away from you but regrets it immediately as he's almsot disoriented when you pop off from his cock, lips puffy and eyes glazed.

"Look at me once you do."

Jungkook moans even louder when you sink your mouth back to his cock and your hands massage his balls even more fervently, his grunts and whines slipping from him with no breaks in between.

You're sucking him off so good that he can't stay still, feeling a euphoric chill starting to trickle down from the base of his spine that he feels tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

Jungkook blows his load to your mouth and you try to take it all, his cum overflowing that some trickles down the corners of your mouth and that sends him further to the edge, still feeling the warmth of you on his cock that's all-sensitive.

You detach from him once you hear him whine, looking up to see your boyfriend who looks delightfully fucked-out with his bare chest heaving and his hair sticking to his damp forehead.

The smile in your face returns, wiping your lips with the back of your hand before you sit beside him, wanting to stay still before you tend to him with some towels and coax him into a warm shower.

"All good?" you ask and he replies with eagerness, so deep into satisfaction that his eyes are all heavy, "it's perfect. God, you're so perfect."

Jungkook's regaining his breath at the moment, his face tucked to your neck, his sweat sticking to what he realizes is the shirt that you're still in. "I'll make you feel good next time, I swear."

You're excited at the thought but you're even more entertained now at the sheer determination coming from your spent boyfriend, "shhh, you need to get your breathing stable for that first, don't you?"

“Shut up,” Jungkook replies just as amused, putting his hand over your mouth that does nothing to conceal your erupting giggles.

He burrows further to your neck, the contentment he feels enough to make him knocked out and sleep for ten hours straight.

Jungkook’s about to do just that but not without tugging you down and giving you a warm kiss, taking a second after to bump his nose with yours.

“I love you.”

.

.

.

as always, lmk what you think!! i love answering asks :D what do you want to see from the lunchbox lovers next? send them here <3

[dragonmuse]

StrangeAugust left a request in my comments for Izzy's POV of the first night Lucius and Izzy collide at the end of Baby, I'm Amazed. The dialogue is all the same for the most part, but the thought processes definitely diverge.

There was a roaring in Izzy's ears that never stopped.

Sometimes he opened his phone and searched for Eddy's location over and over, watching the dot range over the map of the city, but mostly just between apartment and bar over and over

Sometimes he drank so much that he woke up on the floor of his apartment, sweating and vile with it.  

For the first time in his adult life, Izzy got up in the morning with no idea what to do. There had been so much order, so many rules and he had marched to that unceasing beat without thought or reservation. 

Then silence. And the noise had come. The sound that only came in the absence of all other sound. 

At the end of the second week, he poured all the booze in the apartment down the kitchen sink. None of it was helping and he was going to get himself killed wandering into a job hungover and wrung out. Jackie handed him bullshit assignments and there was no paperwork, no things to fix, no goddamn work, but to grind his teeth and let the noise roar on and on. 

He wound up at the bar with his hands fisted in his pockets. He didn’t go in for a while, just paced on the other side of the street. There was no getting Eddy back, he knew that, in a bone deep way. 

They had severed themselves from their old life with a clean sharp blade. Izzy kept finding places where the string had been cut: bank accounts he had once kept track of were abruptly closed, caches of weapons came up empty, and most painfully of all, the arrival of a check for his half of a safe house they’d purchased years ago. He had never seen the place, but it had always been a net under the high wire act of their lives. 

Now there was nothing to catch him. He felt like his armor had disintegrated. When he walked into the Revenge, he wasn’t sure what would happen, but it had to be better than whatever purgatory he’d found himself in. 

Realistically, he expected the bouncers. Ivan and Fang would be delighted to pummel him to a pulp for a thousand paper cuts of insults he’d leveled at them over the years. So he was more than a little surprised to be confronted by a tall, ascot-wearing man with a smirk slapped on his face. 

Lucius Spriggs, 27, male. Graduate of a decent liberal arts college. Bartender at the Revenge with a lewd, but ultimately innocent, side hustle. He’d been picked up once for pickpocketing when he was still in high school, let loose with a warning. No driver’s license. He lived with three of the other employees. That was as far as Izzy had bothered with the background check back when Eddy started coming here. Just making sure they weren’t bedding the enemy back when they first took up with Stede. 

“Hey there. You know you’re not welcome here, right?”

“It’s a free country,” he growled. Like he didn’t know this place was trying to eject him out onto his ass. Like the whole thing didn’t scream ‘turn back!’ in cheerful flags. 

“Sure it is, which means you’re free to leave here before our bouncers show up.”

“I’ve got money. I can get a drink if I like.”

“Mmm, no.” 

“I know my rights.” He lifted his chin. He could certainly manage to intimidate one person who by all rights should be afraid of him.  

“Good, then you know you have the right to remain silent which would be a gift to everyone involved.”

“Listen to me you fucking prick, I’m just here to have a drink."

Fuck, apparently he could not intimidate him. What was he coming to?

“I told you, we can’t serve you. Also, I think booze is probably not what you need. Therapy is probably at the top of that list, but I’m not qualified to offer that. So...” Lucius reached into his jacket pocket and Izzy tensed. More surprising people had tried to shoot him. But instead, two thin joints emerged.  “How about you smoke these with me in the alleyway and we don’t get anyone arrested tonight?”

“Fuck you.” He said out of sheer panic. It had been years since he’d smoked and that had always been with Eddy. The smell was rooted in his memory, inextricable from thick black curls that held the odor for hours afterwards. 

“I'm trying to be nice to you, you maniac. Don’t you want it to stop hurting? Just for a fucking minute?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied. He was bleeding out. He was dying, maybe. Fuck, this would be easier if he was dying, actually. Dying was simple.

“Darling, I’m the king of breakups and I can tell when one of my subjects is in a bad way,” Lucius’ smirk only got bigger. “Smoke up, get out or get arrested for trespassing.”

Pot had never done anything weird to him. It had just mellowed the edges out. Slowed time. And yeah, maybe once and a while, anesthetized him. 

“Give me that,” he said with resignation, taking the joint from Lucius’ hand. It went easy.

“Good choice.” 

He recognized the way the alley was lit up. SOP for a place that Eddy was going to spend any real time in. There was probably a camera out here too, tracking mice and the garbage trucks. Lucius posted up against the wall without concern, apparently as at home out here as he was inside. There was something in the easy way he rested against brick. Like he trusted the world to hold him up. Must be nice. 

Now that he had the fucking joint, Izzy wanted it so badly his teeth itched.  But he hadn’t smoked anything in years, so he was forced to ask, 

“Got a light?” 

The matches were unexpected, a flare of something old school. The brief strike of flame lighting Lucius' features in an unusual way. They gave him a puckish air, his dark eyes dancing as he held out the match for Izzy’s use.  Then he lit his own and took in a deep puff. He exhaled out into a perfect ‘O’ of smoke which Izzy tried hard not to be impressed by. 

He took his own drag, let it settle in his lungs before exhaling. It was just placebo, thinking it worked right away, but he was willing to concede to any effect at this point. He leaned against the wall too. It was brick, it wasn’t going to fucking collapse on him. 

“So,” Lucius began and Izzy tried not to tense up all over again, “What were we hoping to accomplish tonight?”

He was not admitting to this ludicrous human being that he had no fucking idea, and he was considering leaving. This was ridiculous. Then Lucius nodded knowingly and said, 

“No plan? Yeah, I’ve been there. You just turn up and hang around hoping for something. Anything.”

It lanced into him. Lucius had broken into his skull and sifted around in the pieces. Shit. And then there were all of these words in the back of Izzy’s throat. All of this agony, and it just welled out of him,

“We didn’t break up. There was nothing to breakup. He-” No. Wrong. Incorrect on all accounts, apparently. Wrong about everything he’d ever thought about the person he’d dedicated his life too.  He choked on it. “-she was my boss.”

“Good save,” Lucius did not sound like he thought it was a good save at all..  “I don’t think whatever you two had going on wasn't just boss and employee. Leda cuts my checks and I’ve never stalked her, even a little. I mean, I get the stalking thing. I did it once. I was twenty, heartbroken, and I thought I was in love. Did some very ill-advised shit. None of it worked, by the way.”

And no. No they were not boss and lackey. Flunky. Assistant, when someone was trying to insult him, but nicely. He wasn’t a shadow or a babysitter. Or he hadn't been. Now he was nothing at all.

“Twenty years,” He spat. “Twenty years of doing what I was told and beyond. Made sure they were watered, fed, held back their hair when they wretched their guts out in a gutter, and made sure they weren't talking to themselves too obviously in front of the wrong people. Smoothed over every business relationship when they broke it and kept the sharks away from their money. How do you just walk away from all that?”

“Pretty easily apparently,” Lucius pointed out. And yeah. Just yeah, that hit home too. Pretty goddamn easy. “Just plain old all-consuming love. Those two love each other a truly disgusting amount. They actually do sit and stare into each other's eyes sometimes. I thought that was made up in books. We timed it once and they made it almost six minutes, no words, just meaningful looks. It was kind of impressive.”

Love. Eddy hadn’t loved anyone, not even herself, in the entire time Izzy had known them. Certainly, she had never asked if Izzy had ever loved anyone. Or if Izzy loved her. He would’ve lied, if she’d asked. Would’ve lied and not even known it was a lie.  

“It's an obsession. Love doesn’t exist,” he ground out, instead of a thousand other things.  

“Wow, that is some very deep bitterness. Like existentially deep. Like do-not-look-in -this -big - black-hole-because-it’s-filled-with-all-my-demons kind of deep.”

“I don’t have demons.”  Demons were a liability. He had got rid of a lot of people with demons. He took another drag, blew it out through his nose, wanting the burn of the smoke. 

“I think you might be the most possessed person I’ve ever met,” Lucius argued. “Listen, do you want some advice?”

“Fuck no.” He snorted. 

“Too bad. Everyone gets one free if they want it or not.” Oh great, free advice from a know-it-all twenty-something. Just what Izzy had always needed.  “I think the best way to get over them is to do something new. Try someone new.”

“I don’t need anyone.” He didn’t. He didn’t even need himself. Throw the whole thing out. Which...hm. The pot might be hitting him harder with all the years of abstinence between tokes. 

Lucius ground the joint out against the brick. It was another causal, easy movement and Izzy wasn’t sure why he watched it so intently. Maybe it was the rogue thought that he could be the wall, Lucius grinding it out on his arm. Maybe it was the turn of Lucius’ wrist. Maybe it was the fucking pot.  

“What you need is to touch grass. Just like...buy a shirt in a color. Any color. I might even give you a lighter shade of gray if the rainbow is too scary. Then go to a gay club and dance with someone. Be nice to them and try to get laid.”

And then long pale fingers slapped down over his chest. It didn’t hurt, but it was firm and certain. It pinned him to the wall, just a little. The confidence, the surety of it, spiked directly into Izzy’s fogged out brain. 

“That’s an order, sailor.”

An order. Izzy stared down. Lucius’ fingernails were nicely kept, trimmed and clean. Did they know how to dig in? Could they sink into the skin and leave red marks behind?  Izzy’s ribs hummed with the impact, resonating through his chest. 

He wanted to put his hand over it. To hold him there. Lucius dropped it away instead and Izzy took in a shattered breath. He had to leave. Right now. There was nothing for him inside the gilded nonsense inside.  

And...fuck. Having an order. Having something to seize on did more to relax his fight or flight bullshit then anything else. Not that Lucius had meant it. No way the man could know what one sentence could do to him. 

He had to walk away. Right now. There was danger here that he hadn't detected, wasn't in the least bit prepared to defend against. The joint he tossed. The air seemed to resist him as he pushed off the wall, but he managed, one leaden step at a time. He shouldn’t look back. He couldn’t. 

But he did. Lucius was still leaning against the wall, no longer smirking at all. He was watching Izzy closely, tracking his movements. The expression was at once intensely familiar and entirely new. It took his breath away. 

Go.  Screamed every instinct he had. So he went.  But that look stayed with him. It walked with him to his car and drove home with him. It filled the dark corners of his apartment and when he got into bed, it climbed in beside him. 

All morning while he tried to go through his routine, it knocked him off kilter.  None of it had been purposeful. A young, vibrant man didn’t have any need for someone like Izzy. Certainly not one that worked for Bonnet. Definitely not one so comfortable in his own skin that he wore a fucking ascot and offered pot to random, very dangerous, strangers. 

The trouble was that there was nothing else to think about. He went to work, he did fuck all or worse, did a job and found no pleasure in it. It was like someone had clawed out all the meat inside of him and put clockwork in instead. 

Except that look. The press of a hand on his chest. 

He walked home one night, a punishingly long distance, but he needed to move. When he passed a store window, he slowed. The photos were men his age. Gray- haired and laughing as they canoed down a river or hiked up a mountain. The mannequins had blank faces and the clothes were simple. Clean looking. Nothing that someone wouldn’t take seriously. 

It was busy inside, good cover for someone dithering over a selection of the most basic of wardrobe staples. The whole time that he moved through the motions of picking a t-shirt, he was telling himself to stop. Put it down. There was no need for any of this. 

He paid for it and left the store without registering the face of a single other person.  

It was just a t-shirt. He could work out in it or throw it away and it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference in his life. If he went through his drawers and pulled out jeans he hadn’t worn in years that could be nothing too. 

It could all be nothing. What was he going to do? The last bit, the idea that he would just go to some kind of...that wasn’t who he was. He didn’t go to clubs. He didn’t dance. He didn’t know how to even begin to approach another man. He’d gotten Faith because she picked him and Eddy because....he actually had no idea. Proximity probably.  

And he didn’t want to meet a stranger. The appeal of a quick fuck had never made any sense to him. To have a close encounter with someone you’d never see again? Who you didn’t know? What for? He could get himself off more effectively than any person he’d just collided with. 

Except Lucius wasn’t quite a stranger now.  

Izzy held the t-shirt in his hands and expelled a breath. He wasn’t thinking about going to a club. He wasn’t thinking about a stranger. He was thinking about a hand reaching out in the dark. A man who took the time to give him advice and mellow him out for a minute when he should’ve bounced Izzy out into the street without a second thought. 

He’d just...show him. That he’d listened. Then go. It’s not like Lucius had shown any interest in him. And anyway, it was a reason to go back to the bar which he couldn't quite shake the desire to do. Just to check. Just know. Just pick at a scab.

This time no one stopped him at the door, but he was acutely aware that his time was limited. It still took him a long minute to move from the entrance and take a seat at the bar. There was another bartender there, but he’d been there last week too. 

It didn’t take long for Lucius to emerge. He moved with purpose and Izzy tensed, ready to be thrown out. That would be the smart thing for Lucius to do. Probably for everyone’s sake, including Izzy’s.  Instead, Lucius settled in front of him, put his chin on one hand and smiled. 

It was a hell of a smile.

“You’re a good listener. I like the shirt.”  His voice was clear, even in the growing noise of the bar. 

“Thanks.” He couldn’t look at him full on. It was too much. 

“Here’s how I think the night should go.” Izzy readied himself for the bull rush, but instead, Lucius went on with that directive crystal clear tone,  "I’m going to get you a drink, my choice. You down that and if you can just sit there and enjoy the show, I’ll go home with you.”

“Who says that’s what I want?”   

Go home with him? Izzy hadn’t had anyone else in his apartment, except the cleaning lady and maintenance people since he bought it. Someone else in his apartment? Someone else...fuck. Someone else in his bed? Could he do that? He would have to. That was how the night was going to go.

“‘No’ is a complete sentence. You want off this bus, it stops wherever you want.”

“Just like that?”  Izzy clutched at his own thigh, trying to ground himself. No? No was what it took? Was that the world Lucius lived in? He was fighting back a hysterical laugh. 

“Just like that,” he confirmed. “But if you’re game, I’ll make it worth your time.”

“I’ll take the drink.”  It would buy time to screw his head on straight. 

He drank the sour-sweet pink thing Lucius put in front of him. Izzy assumed there was some intention of humiliation there or a test of some kind. But Izzy had done far worse things than drink something he didn’t like and sit still for a few hours. It was practically restful. He zoned out, only coming back into reality when Eddy got on stage.  

He couldn’t bring himself to watch, but it was a thousand burning needles in his skin to know she was so close and yet might as well be as far away as the moon. 

The terrible fucking drink brought him back. It was just too obnoxious to be ignored and it reminded him of the other obnoxious unignorable thing that had brought him here in the first place. 

As soon as the curtain went down, Lucius returned to him. He didn’t lean on the counter this time, but Izzy was aware of his proximity all the more. 

“How was the drink?”

“Sour.”

“Suits you then. Are we going to your place?”

“Yeah,” Izzy said. That was how the night was going to go. 

“Okay, a few ground rules. We’re gonna kiss, I don’t do any of that emotionally frigid bullshit.” Izzy hadn’t kissed someone in ages. He wasn’t sure he even remembered how.  “You’re not going to insult me at any point or I walk. I’m not interested in insulting you either. Your safeword is just ‘no’. You say no, it stops. I say no, it stops. Sounds like you might need practice with the word from both angles. We’re sticking to hands only, absolutely no blood. You get what you ask for and you’ve got to be specific. No guessing games. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” he said with embarrassing rapidity. Did Lucius know all the demands he could’ve put on this? Izzy was fairly certain he was already beyond sense and reason. 

Fuck knew Eddy had taken out chunks of him for far less gain.

“Let’s go then.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

Lucius jumped over the bar in a feat that Izzy would not have thought him capable of. Izzy did catch the brief expression of relief, presumably that he hadn’t fallen on his face. It was impressive anyway. A show of strength that left its mark on Izzy’s already stomped on brain.

It was cool outside, but Izzy was burning up. Every nerve in his body was awake and telling him all about it. 

“Kiss me and then go get your car. You can pick me up here, fuck knows where you parked. Probably like four blocks away, to give yourself time to chicken out. 

“How’d you know that?”  Was he actually just a fucking mind reader? Izzy had even circled the block a few times first. Jesus fuck. 

“Because it’s what I would’ve done,” Lucius gave a shrug like this barely mattered. Like he hadn’t just read Izzy like a book. “Come on now. We don’t have all night.”

Kiss him. Yeah, easy shit, Hands. You just do the damn thing. He took a halting step forward then stuttered to a stop. 

He’d never kissed a man with the full intention of seeing something through. Yeah, he and Eddy had kissed sometimes, but it was usually during the act or at least as a vicious prelude. They were just standing here, out on the street. Exposed. 

Lucius was unhindered by such ideas and just leaned in. The kiss was soft, yielding. Lucius smelled like the bar, cleaning products and a bit of sweat. It was nothing, really. Just the slightest of touches, no hint of teeth or tongue. 

So why did Izzy feel like he was being flayed open? 

“Good boy,” Lucius whispered. “Go get the car.”

A word came out of his mouth, but Izzy only knew it was something like agreement. He was a string that had been plucked, vibrating at some new frequency. As he walked away, the words echoed in him and played back over and over. 

Lucius thought he’d been good. That the kiss, maybe, had been good. He’d done the right thing just by showing up. His bones were no longer connected correctly and when he got out his car keys, he dropped them like a fumbling child.  

When he pulled up in front of the bar, Lucius was waiting. Still there, still very real. The car door opened with a loud pop and then the car was no longer the quiet void that he had long enjoyed. It was stuffed full and the air was thick. 

“Ready?”  Lucius asked, with a shit eating grin. 

“Yeah.” No, he absolutely was not.  “I think I am.”

Lucius dropped a hand to Izzy’s thigh and squeezed. Izzy forced his eyes to stay on the road. This was not the way he wanted to die and the universe would think it was extremely funny to make it so.

“Good,” Lucius practically purred. “Let’s go have an adventure then.”

The hand stayed on his thigh the whole way back to his apartment building. He slid into the parking space, cutting off the engine and seriously contemplated just staying there. But then Lucius was moving, so Izzy was to. He led him to the elevator and then to the end of the hall. To the apartment that he’d picked out a decade ago with no more thought than he spent picking out socks. 

Luckily, Lucius wasn’t asking for a tour. 

“The bedroom,” he suggested instead and Izzy led him right to it. 

“Take off your shoes,” Lucius ordered, though his tone was a little hesitant. It grew more confident with every demand that Izzy followed without objection. 

It was so easy, so blessedly quiet to slip to the place where he was just waiting to please. Strip. Kneel. Open your mouth.  Touch me.  Get on the bed. Close your eyes. Take it. 

And in between each one, Lucius offered sweetness. Izzy was good, smart, hot, perfect. He was obedient, he was paying attention. He was doing the right thing. The pain was good, but Lucius was clearly not interested in truly making Izzy suffer and it didn’t entirely scratch that itch.

It was the kindness that turned Izzy inside out. 

He wasn’t even aware that he’d wept. He wouldn’t know for years until Lucius remarked on it idly while they were talking about something else altogether. It didn’t surprise him though. 

Sleeping beside a near stranger should have been impossible, but Izzy had never been so tired in his life and despite himself, he was out in seconds. When he woke up, the entire world was a little different. The axis had tilted on him. 

The horrible roaring in his ears had stopped. He could think, clearly, for the first time in months.  And his only real thought worth having was that he had to find a way to make it all happen again.

[capseycartwright]

what about buddie + small town au for the short fics ?

Buck had never imagined he’d end up back in his hometown, years after he first left - but after years of travelling, it had sort of made sense to end up back in small town Texas. He’d trained with the fire department in Dallas, and transferred up to the bend-in-the-road town he’d grown up in and (mostly) hadn’t looked back.

He’d had his reasons.

It just turned out that his reasons had ran as far from their hometown as they could, in the end. Buck - he’d been hurt by it, but he hadn’t been bitter about it, he wasn’t bitter about it. Life just - life wasn’t meant to work out in their favour, but that didn’t mean life was bad. Buck had bought a house, a house of his own, and he had a job he loved, and his sister was back in his life, and he could be happy. Really, he could.

August in Texas was one of Buck’s favourite times of the year. Not the beginning of the month, no, but toward the end of August, as the weather slowly started to change, and the sunsets seemed to get longer and more golden and fiery and orange, and it reminded Buck of those long hot Texas summers he’d lived so many of, growing up, working long shifts at the grocery store, and -

Well, being with Eddie.

Eddie Diaz. Eddie Diaz was Buck’s reason for leaving, and he’d been Buck’s reason for coming home. Buck had been a freshman, when Eddie was a sophomore, and Buck had been head over heels for him from the moment he’d spotted him at tryouts for the baseball team - Eddie had been a vice-captain, and Buck had trailed along after him like a sad puppy, frankly, and it hadn’t been until the summer after Buck’s freshman year of high-school that Eddie Diaz had picked him up in his beat up old pickup truck and they’d gotten milkshakes and driven out into the desert and Eddie had kissed him like Buck was worth something and he’d spent the whole summer desperately in love.

That was why Buck loved August.

He loved August - and he hated September, because that was when Eddie had ended it, and shattered Buck’s heart into a million pieces. He’d sort of held onto the desperate hope that Eddie might come back to him again, but then he’d heard from Eddie’s mom that he’d moved up to Austin, to go to college, and he’d dropped out and gone and gotten fucking married and six months later Eddie was a goddamn dad and Buck had ran as far and as fast as the could.

Still.

August reminded Buck of happier times.

Switching on the hose, Buck set about rinsing off the soap from the firetruck wheels. Dallas had been hectic, and busy, and constantly moving, and life back at home was quieter, and there was time for chores in the firehouse - and Buck always volunteered to wash the truck, just so he could watch the sunset, or the sunrise, the front doors of the firehouse garage open and the golden sand of the Texas desert stretching out for miles ahead of him.

It was a reminder, in a way, that regardless of how much it felt like everyone in town was in Buck’s business (especially his dating business), he was still a tiny, insignificant speck in the grand scheme of the universe. It was oddly comforting.

“Hey, hotshot.”

The voice was unbearably familiar, as Buck slowly turned to see Eddie standing in the doorway of the firehouse. He was still in his fatigues, and Buck tried to swallow the angry bitterness that rose in his throat as he gazed at the familiar camouflage print, Diaz printed in black, blocky letters on Eddie’s chest.

He’d clearly just gotten home.

Eddie’s smile was the same, soft, half-crooked smile it was when he was eighteen and he was at the centre of Buck’s entire universe. “I heard you’ve moved home,” he continued, voice soft. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you here again.”

Buck twisted the hose he was holding in his hands, careful fingers smoothing out the line before he replied. “I thought I had a reason to come home,” he said simply, looking everywhere except at Eddie. “But I was wrong. Clearly.”

“Buck….” Eddie stepped forward, his forehead creased with worry.

“Eddie, don’t,” Buck shook his head. “You called me, from fucking Afghanistan, crying, because you missed me, and you begged me to come home - and when I got home, Shannon was the one to tell me that you’d reenlisted. Without telling me, Eddie.”

“I had to, Buck.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Eddie - it might work with your parents, or Shannon, but it’s not going to work with me,” Buck dropped the hose, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He’d wanted Eddie for the last ten goddamn years, and he still wanted him more than he had the words for, and he fucking hated the bones of Eddie Diaz for making him want him, still, even after all this time.

Eddie was quiet, for a second. “I was terrified,” he admitted. “The divorce papers - they’d just been finalised, and I was terrified because I didn’t know how I was going to be a father to Christopher when our family was so broken - and all because of me,” he paused, voice shaking slightly as he looked intently at Buck. “And I was terrified of how I felt about you, Buck - because we were together for one summer, and somehow you’re all I’ve ever wanted since.”

“Eddie.” Buck didn’t know what to say - how to react.

“I know I can’t fix everything with a few nice words and an apology, Buck,” Eddie said, moving his hand, the bandage on his wrist visible for the first time. “But I’m here - for good, this time. So, I - uh, if you’d have me, Evan, I’d like to take you on a date. A real first date, this time - with dinner and drinks and not in the back of my truck.”

Buck couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I seem to remember us having a lot of fun in the back of your truck, that summer,” he teased, enjoying the way Eddie’s face flushed the most delightful shade of pink. “Eddie - I’m not the same person I was, ten years ago.”

“Neither am I,” Eddie reassured. “But I’m excited to get to know the person you are now, Buck. No - no stress, no expectations. Just me and you.”

And, well -

Maybe Buck didn’t hate September all that much, anymore.

send me a pairing & an au setting and i’ll write you a mini fic

[daggersandarrows]

11 - Vax. And 13, 12 Jamie from Cinderbrush.

vax one here for anyone who didn't see it.

and oh my god, bless you, i have been just hunting for an excuse to write jamie/sasha.

13. “Oh gods I was in a meeting.”

12. “Gods, you’re so fucking cute.”

i apologize in advance i did not mean for this to take a hard left into angst?? like i thought it was going in a smut direction too idk what happened-

“Jamie.”

They don’t even look up from their phone. “Ugh, what do you want, Sasha?”

Sasha pouts, so incredibly picturesque that even an expression of distaste looks…planned. Calculated. “Well, that’s not a very nice way to greet a friend, now, is it?”

“Are you. Are you really.”

“I’m hurt, Jamie, truly.”

They look up, sliding their phone very deliberately to the other side of the picnic table, and really look at her. And gods fucking dammit, despite everything, despite the…Sashaness of her, or really, because of it, she can still take their breath away.

Fortunately, they’ve gotten extremely good at hiding that.

“Get to the point, will you? I’m doing boring college app stuff, and if I don’t make some kind of participatory comments in this frankly extremely boring seminar, my mother is not going to be pleased.”

“Does there have to be a point?”

“With you? Yes. Because if you don’t have a point, it means you’re hiding the point, which, knowing you, is terrifying. So what’s your point, Sasha?”

She actually looks hurt this time--they can tell by the lack of immediate reaction on her face. There’s a small twitch by her left eye, that’s it, but they know her well enough at this point to know when they’ve said something that actually hits.

“My point is that I haven’t seen you in months, and maybe I wanted to say hi.”

“Bullshit, yes you have.”

“I’ve seen you around school. But I haven’t seen you.”

Jamie bites back another sharp retort before they say something they’ll actually regret. They take a moment to discard all the statements in their head starting with “since when do you care about”, and try to work out what their actual question is.

“I thought you and Cam were back together,” they say, as delicately as they can.

“We are. I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

Jamie shrugs. Contact with Cam has also been few and far between. And contact with Af. And…yeah, no, that’s all the friends Jamie has. Friends being a relative term.

“Is everything okay?” Sasha tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, biting at her lip, and for a second the overwhelming, shiny-plastic artificial overwhelming draw of her fades to nearly nothing, and Jamie knows she’s purposefully turning it down for their sake--to show her sincerity--and the odd caring of it all, ironically, breaks their resolve.

“Gods, you’re so fucking cute,” they murmur without thinking, and Sasha raises an eyebrow.

“Um. Thank you? That…doesn’t really answer the question.”

Jamie buries their face in their hands. “No…not really.”

Sasha reaches for them--they see it--but stop just short of placing a hand on their knee, letting them keep their space. It’s a magnificent gesture coming from her (at least, Jamie is sure she thinks so) but they still can’t quite get the words that they want to happen to come out of their mouth. Everything has been so goddamn bleak. And pointless. And…empty. That’s not something that they expect Sasha, with her meticulously planned next five years, to understand.

“What can I do?” she asks simply, and Jamie shrugs. The dead air between them stretches on uncomfortably, until Jamie finally reaches out, takes her hand, and places it deliberately on their knee.

“None of you want me,” they say, and it sounds petulant and cruel and whiny the second it leaves their mouth but they can’t take it back, and Sasha’s going to hate them--hate them even more than usual, and--

Sasha puts her arms around them.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry we made you feel that way. Of course we want you.”

“How?” Jamie blurts, and they’re glad that Sasha’s laid her head against their shoulder and can’t see their face. “I mean, why? I...you’re all happy. You don’t need me.”

“The two are not mutually exclusive. And we were worried. Although I don’t think any of us realized how little you were talking to any of us, otherwise this would’ve happened much sooner.”

Jamie sniffles.

“Of course we need you.”

“You mean it.”

“I’ve told you, Jamie. I lie to everybody, but never to you.”

They believe her. Against all of the evidence they’ve been piling up in their heart and head and using to make themselves stop seeking out the three of them and stop feeling so goddamn hurt and lonely, they believe her.

“Oh gods I was in a meeting.” Jamie starts to scramble away from Sasha and towards their phone, but stops. Sasha looks up at them, reaching to wipe a tear they hadn’t even noticed from their face.

“Jamie?”

“You know what, Sasha? It can wait.”

[imaginewarehouse]

Marcus White x Jonah’sSister!Reader || Oneshot

Plot: 

You find out that you are pregnant... with Marcus' miracle baby.

Warnings: Pregnancy, panic attack

🔆  🔆  🔆

Carefully, I pick out one of the pregnancy tests from the shelf. Then grab another... 2 more... and another. Just to be sure.

As I go up to the pharmacy desk, I thank god that Tate isn't working here anymore; I never would've gotten away with this. He would've snitched to Jonah or something, for his own sociopathic enjoyment. Instead, the new guy thankfully rings up and bags my items casually, not really caring what he flings into the white plastic bag- then hands it to me with a soulless customer service smile. If I had to describe it, I'd say its if the man had been working here for years before finally letting the job kill him on the inside- just in time for the wind to change and stick his face like that. Honestly, I never see the guy without this smile. Not even in the breakroom. Its unnerving.

Still, I take the bag and smile back even though I know he for sure doesn't really mean it and turn around so I can walk (The long way around the store, so I don't pass the doors to the warehouse) towards the employee bathrooms... but stop short, jolting into panic mode immediately. Freeze, freeze, freeze!

There's Isaac, standing as tall as a bear in my path behind the aisles, with a scanner in his hand and a surprised look on his face. Or at least as surprised as he would ever convey.

Clearly, though, he saw the tests. And I'm screwed. He is absolutely the well, second last person I wanted to catch me doing this; Buying these.

A nervous smile flickers onto my face and I walk the short ways over to him, hugging the bag to my front. He's still just staring; Mouth half open and eyes a little less dead, then usual. "Oh, hey Isaac! How's is going? You got sent to pharmacy today? That s-sucks... " Honestly I didn't think he was allowed to be assigned pharmacy...

Completely by-passing the option to forget what he just saw and exchange polite chit-chat with me, he instead closes his mouth and his eyes, shakes his head and then opens his eyes again. Then inhales. "Are those what I think those are?"

"Wh-what?"

"Pregnancy tes-"

Shit- Giving him a desperate expression, revealing my true feelings today - being complete and utter panic, - I cut him off. "SHHH! Isaac! No- uh. Yes. Um... Would you believe these aren't for me?"

"Mmm... " His face twists slightly into one of thought, tightening his lips together and sizing me up. "No, I don't think so."

"Well!- " I'm totally ready to make up an excuse... but peter out as soon I try. I could do it. I could string together some kind of half-believable bullshit like 'They're for Amy', but he would still go and tell Marcus and he would find me and... I would still have to have the conversation earlier then I want to. So instead I drop the façade, and my shoulders, and show just how tired I am. "I want to find out myself before breaking the news to Marcus. Okay? He might be unhappy about the idea and then we do the test and it turns out I'm not pregnant and then I just stressed us both out, for no reason! And, on the other hand, what if he wants it and it turns out I'm wrong about this? Please, Isaac, just don't tell him yet. Please, please." I feel like no matter how many pleases I use they may still not change anything. But I'm desperate.

He stands still for a few minutes... so long in fact I think he may be in shock himself, or having some kind of drug induced anxiety attack, and am about to wave my hand up in his face or say his name again, when he finally breathes a little more obviously and I relax back down to earth. "... Well, lets go find out then, right?"

"What- You- you want to come?" Something in me relaxes at the thought- I don't really want to do this alone. I want someone there, like in the movies, to hold the box and just read me the instructions. But I imagined it would be someone I'm actually close friends with, who can hold my hand and wouldn't care that it recently touched a pee-stick. I did not expect that person to be Isaac - Isaac, who likes to watch homeless people kill each other with shopping trollies and sticks and trash can shields like in a horrible, pitiful, modern-day coliseum, - in a million years.

But he nods.

"Yeah, sure." He puts his scanner on the shelf, and we set off the way I was going. He seems to silently understand why we have to go the long way around- to avoid passing the doors to the warehouse. Or he just doesn't care. Either way, I'm thankful he doesn't try to re-rout my course. Or even mention it. "Good excuse to slack off work... besides I should probably get out of this section, anyway. Hey, it is Marcus- right?"

I sigh- I suppose the companionable silence was too much to ask for. "Yes Isaac. If its a thing, in the first place."

"Yeah, right."

___TIME SKIP___

"You're having a miracle baby, you know? He's not supposed to be able to do that- isn't that kinda... good?"

I only whimper in response from |my new home| the cubicle I've been taking the tests in, holding my head. How am I going to do this? I have college, I have this job, I have my studio apartment to continue paying rent for! Marcus and I don't even... there isn't even... we haven't labelled it yet, and... Oh god, I'm shaking.

Isaac heaves a sigh outside, his chair creaking as he shifts. "Well, that's... three positives, so far." Isaac's memorable, slow drawl seeps through the cracks in my cubicle and takes away my thoughts for a moment. And my breath.

3 positives.

3 positives.

Not one, not two... three.

... Then he goes on, a whiny tone in his voice. "Do we really need to do another one?"

I breathe in deep. I don't know what else to do. The next logical step would be telling Marcus or Jonah, but I'm ready for neither of those. So procrastination through pregnancy test, it has to be. "Uh, yes. We do. Um... can you, please?- "

"Ughhh. Yeah, yeah. I'll get you more water. Stay here." Then Isaac, who has surprisingly been very helpful, even getting me tape so I can stick the finished tests up to the door in front of me so that I can compare them easier, disappears out of the women's bathroom, leaving me with my thoughts.

I peak back up at the tests, feeling panic fill up my chest cavity like its anxiety gas and my rib cage is the gas chamber- and my heart's the poor organ at deaths row. I'm... pregnant.

Oh my god. I'm pregnant. There is a human being growing inside me, right now. A human being who will require time that I definitely don't have, money that its parents certainly could not scavenge if we scavenged for used soda cans like Myrtle and sold them in our spare time, effort that I'm terrified might not even be in me at this point... A baby that needs some semblance of a comfortable, stable home, which I do not have for it.

I'm just burrowing my face into my arms and knees atop the toilet seat when the bathroom door opens again. Looking up, I immediately ask for Isaac- because that was really freaken quick, for him.

And get a familiar, confused sounding voice call back "... No, its Amy... Sorry, I just need to pee. Are you going to be long?".

"Oh!" Oops. Immediately, head going empty with panic, I unlock the door and and jump out to let her in. "No! I just finished. Um- go ahead. I'll just wash- wash my hands."

Now seeing each other, I see Amy's forehead crease and her eyebrows furrow in confusion and concern at my pink cheeked/pale faced appearance and the panicky way I'm talking. She reaches out toward me. "... Y/N, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!" I laugh, the most nervous sounding laugh ever. "Don't worry."

Amy's nose screws up. "... why were you waiting for Isaac?"

"We-we're just having an affair."

... what??

Her eyebrows furrow even deeper. "Okay... I'm just gonna go... pee... now... " She says slowly, gradually disappearing into the cubicle; Not quite sure what to say back to that.

I sigh in relief when her eyes aren't on me anymore and the door locks, thinking flushing some water onto my face might calm me down, when a loud GASP comes from Amy and I i m m e d i a t e l y remember the tests stuck to the wall. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!!

Amy comes right out of there, looking at me with completely new eyes now- understanding truly why I'm pale, I'm sure, and definitely why I was acting the way I was. "Y/N! You're... pregnant??!" I open my mouth to respond. Maybe say 'yes' seeing as that's the truth and the only proper answer, but I choke on my words and instead say, "Isaacs getting more water so I can take another test."

"I think 3 is a pretty conclusive number!"

"I-" She is not wrong, but I don't want to do anything else but take another easy test, and get defensive instead. "I bought four, I'm doing four!"

"Wh- Is Isaac the father!?"

"God, no." Isaac and I both spit back in offense.

I whip my head around when i realise he wasn't supposed to be there yet at all, and- there he is in the doorway.

... Jonah right behind him looking sicker then me. My jaw drops. "You brought Jonah??!"

"Uh, no, I was just waiting outside for, um," He gestures to Amy and my stomach drops. So he heard the whole thing. Could this get any worse??! Well I mean of course it could, Marcus could be here. Stupid question. Don't ask questions like that; It always summons the worst, in movies. "You're pregnant!? Who- you know what, unimportant right now. Do you wanna sit down??"

I shake my head, taking a deep breath and holding my hand out to Isaac. "No, I'm fine. I have a test to do. Water, Isaac?"

"Here." He hands me the bottle, and I go to disappear back into the cubicle before jumping back away again, remembering that Amy still needs to go and gesturing for her to go, ridiculously enough. She shakes her head and gestures back, like I'm crazy, to take it instead.

I do so and lock myself in, starting to chug the whole bottle.

A blessed silent moment passes... before Jonah speaks. "Is the 4th test really necessary?- "

"For the love of god- Let me take the fourth goddamn test for fucks sake!"

___TIME SKIP___

"... so what is it?" Amy asks 10 minutes later, breaking the deafening silence, as I sit back down on the toilet seat and hold my face in my hands again.

"... Positive... "

Isaac sighs. "Who would have guessed, really?"

No one tells him to shut up. He's right. But also no one agrees, because I'm a fucking 23 year old pregnant girl and I will kill them.

"So... what now?" Amy asks, speaking to the room, but expecting me to answer.

"Well, I'd like less people to be here, honestly." I pipe up, removing my hands from my mouth to speak clearer.

"Done. Isaac, Jonah, get out."

"What? I was here before you... lady." Isaac exclaims, offended, but a moment later I hear the door close, anyway. I assume it had something to do with Amy's signature resting bitch face- cranked up to eleven. "We'll just wait out here, then! Yell if you need us."

"Yep... " Amy responds to him, sounding exhausted and I can totally imagine her rolling her eyes right now. She takes a deep breath, and sighs it out. I hear her rest carefully down into the chair Isaac vacated. For a moment she thankfully says nothing, and I do wonder whether I should... but I don't know what to so say. So I just stay hidden in the cubicle, silent until Amy takes another deep breath and asks the question. "Who is it?"

I take a deep breath, knowing that once I say it I cant take it back, while on the other hand... its done, anyway. He's already the father and I cant change that (Would I if I could, though?) but telling Amy may either make or break my confidence in having him as the dad of my kid. Not that I have a choice... I just know that Amy's going to be worried about it and I don't know if I can handle the criticism right this moment.

Finally I spit it out though. Marcus.

...

"Oh- wow."

Uncomfortable, I shift on the closed toilet seat. "Yeah."

Her voice gets higher, clearly fake and trying to sound like this is better then she really feels it is. My heart plummets into my stomach like a terrible roller coaster. "Well, that's... " She pauses, searching for a safe word to use, assumedly. "Great!"

"... 'great?" For some reason that word, and Amy's tone... hits something wrong, in me. Panic flickers deep in my chest and my stare on the wall gets colder, harder. "... you think this is 'great'? Really? You? No, you don't. Do you hear yourself? 'Great'. Puh! This is Marcus. 'Been to jail' Marcus. 'Ex Con' Marcus. 'Creator and CEO of BOOB CHEESE', Marcus. Marcus who shits in the shower and thinks breastfeeding is akin to whipping your dick out in public, Marcus who has a tattoo of his mother on his back for Valentines day- "

Okay so maybe I'm just picking on him because I'm inadequate, because I don't have the time for a baby, because if I'm trusted with this perfect thing then I will ruin it... I'll pick work, instead of love, and they'll grow up with less of it then they should have and I'll be to blame...

But I don't want to address that yet. I cant.

"Y/N."

"Neither of us even have the money for this." I'm panicking again. "He lives with his mother! And- what if he gets mad... " I suddenly get worried, my eyes go round and I cover my mouth. "I really like him Amy. I cant have him mad at me. Not for this. Not him. Please don't let him hate m- "

"Y/N! Calm the fuck down, okay, right now. Don't speak. Just... take some deep breathes okay? First of all, Marcus is not going to be 'mad' at you. He's sure as hell is not going to hate you. You're spiralling, just take some long breaths." Amy makes it sound like a ridiculous idea with her tone, that he might be mad or he might hate me. I do as she says as she talks; take deeeeeep breaths. Slowly, I start to clam down. "He might be shocked, yeah, but he's- he's not like that. He's an idiot, not a total asshole. Take it from me, I know what I'm talking about here. I promise you. Whether he'll be good at being a parent, is... debatable." Everything she says makes sense. And she would know- you've met Adam. "But he'll be there, at the very least.

And... and you'll be a great mum, anyway."

I feel my heartbeat start to slow down again as I breath. I close my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest and rest back against the wall, carefully.

I really hope she's right on that second part.

"... thank you."

___OUTSIDE THE BATHROOM___

Jonah rubs his neck in nervousness at his sister in the bathroom dealing with something like this, pacing around the small hallway area before turning to Isaac. He raises his dark eyebrows. "So, do you know... wh-who?? I mean... the guy, that- I mean, does he work here, or... ???"

"Its Marcus." Isaac pulls out a bag of trail mix from his vest pocket and starts picking through, standing by the bathroom calmly. The brother to whom he just broke such detrimental news - that his sister, has Marcus White of BOOB CHEESEs baby inside her, - widens his eyes until they're more like dinner plates. "Yeah, they've been talking for a while, man. You didn't know?"

"I- I just thought she wasn't interested in... guys... " All her time must be busy with balancing both school and work, plus her friends... how can she possible have had time to... But on the other hand, he realises that its a bit naïve to think that his younger sister still isn't interested in 'boys'. Part of it might have been wishful thinking.

Isaac barks out a laugh. Its a stale, dry sound that makes Jonah really uncomfortable. "She also went out with Tate. Had a bit of a thing for Sayid for a while, too... "

"What!?- "

"Jonah!" At Amy's exit from the bathroom, he calms down immediately and straightens up. She raises her brows at him. She nods into the bathroom. "She wants you."

Yep- it takes him about 2 seconds to fly into the bathroom... to find his sister still hidden in the cubicle. He sighs, pressing his hand against the door. "Y/N? Amy said you wanted me. Do you want me to get you something to eat? Its just, I'm the only one who knows your snack preferences... and maybe we shouldn't eat in here, cuz its kinda gross... but if you want to, that's cool too!"

She doesn't respond for a minute, silent apart from the careful peeling of tape from the cubicle door.

Then the peeling sounds stop. A moment later her voice, sounding small and tentative as if just saying this would open Pandora's box, slips out. "... how're mum and dad gonna react?"

Its a rhetorical question. They both know it'll be bad - and they'll like Marcus even less, - , but its said so he knows what she's worried about. He sighs and leans back on the door. "Well very, very badly. But that doesn't matter right now. I'll take care of them."

"How valiant." Her voice is still small, quiet. But she sounds less scared; She always believes her big brother. Even when she knows logically that he cant protect her from them. Not their parents.

"Well, I try."

"... hm."

___TIME SKIP, BACK OUTSIDE OF THE BATHROOM___

"She is not leaving that bathroom," Isaac shakes his head. Its been an hour, and they've all been in there with her a couple times but she has not left the cubicle. Not even peaked her head out. She hasn't even e a t e n anything while she's been in there. Its starting to worry them. "Maybe we should go get Marcus."

Immediately Jonah looks up from his phone - having been reading up on pregnancy. What is going to start happening to his sister, now?? - and shakes his head, firmly. "No, she'll tell him when she feels comfortable with it. We aren't doing that."

"Yeah, it isn't up to us." Amy agrees, while still looking like on a deep, unsympathetic level that is tired of standing here... she definitely wants to drag Marcus here. But she also knows that Jonah is, unfortunately, a n n o y i n g l y, right.

Isaac heaves a deep, frustrated huff and gets comfortable on the floor.

___TIME SKIP: 3 HOURS LATER___

Finally, Jonah breathes in a deep, exhausted breath and puts his phone away. That's enough of that. He's sufficiently disgusted. He looks down the hallway, out to the store. Then to Amy playing solitaire on her phone and Isaac drawing slowly on the ground. "... Well, I mean, it's Marcus's baby too, right? He should know... right?"

"Mhm,"

"Yep, that's right."

"And... besides, Y/N might need him, right? Maybe he could get her out."

"You make some good points."

"I just wish they weren't points we already mentioned." Amy looks up from her phone and turns it off, flashing an sarcastic, displeased kind of smile. "Earlier."

"Yeah well... " He rolls his shoulders, looking away from Amy's piercing gaze- god, her face is like a loaded gun with no safety. And he's totally into it. He coughs, then whispers. "So, who wants to go get him??"

"Not it."

"I would, but ah... nah. I'm down for the count, down here."

"So... me."

Amy nods, making a 'shoo'-ing gesture with her hand. "Yep, you, Jiminy Cricket. You made us stay here for hours- you go get Marcus."

Looking to Isaac for help, Jonah is just met with the deadest eye's he has ever come upon, so he eventually sighs deeply, wiping sweaty hands on his jeans. "Fff-fine. Wait here."

___IN THE WAREHOUSE___

"Uh, hello? Hi- have you seen Marcus anywhere? Wh- No? Well if you see him can you tell him I'm looking for him? Its about Y/N."

The warehouse worker with the nametag reading 'Nigel' that Jonah's never spoken to before in his life and who prior to his words, had the new deadest eyes that Jonah has ever seen, suddenly beams- a twinkle of evil mischief in his eyes. "Oooooh, cats outta the bag, huh?"

Jonah blinks. "What?"

"You found out about Marcus and your sister, and now you're gonna beat him up? I was waiting for this moment." Nigel clarifies, actively looking around the room for Marcus now as Jonah rushes to explain that no, that is not what he's here for. Please don't say that so loudly- "HEY RICO! You seen Marcus around?? Y/N's brother's here to deliver an ass beating." Half a second passes while Jonah's ears ring from Nigel's screeching before something new apparently occurs to the warehouse worker as his eyes widen and he turns again to who must be Rico. "And you owe me 20 bucks!! Told ya he'd come!"

How often is Y/N in this place? Just seems weird, these guy's saying her name so casually... Jonah's forehead crinkles in thought as Rico rolls his eyes and groans, walking off to assumedly find Marcus. I'm learning a lot about my sister, today... Not sure how I feel about it...

Jesus Christ, has she eaten the cheese, too??!

Jonah doesn't get a moment to panic about that particular bit of nightmare material before he realises Nigel is still standing, awkwardly now, arms straight at his sides and eyebrows raised expectantly, right by him. Watching him, instead of returning to his job. Jonah raises his own eyebrows back; Shrugging. Like, what?? What do you want?

Nigel just just shrugs and shakes his head back passive aggressively, crossing his arms. Like, he doesn't know. Fine, we'll just stand in silence, then...

"Jonah! What's up, buddy? Visiting me in the warehouse- this is so nice! Want me to take my break now, cuz we totally can. Just let me wrap one last thing up and then we'll be back in my car, together. Listening to tunes; Ya know. Guy buddy stuff." T h a n k f u l l y, Marcus seems to rush from wherever he was in the depths of shelf-land when Rico apparently found him and cuts off the awkward stand off between the two men, dropping a hand on Jonah's shoulder and beaming. "What up, man?"

Quick to turn away from Nigel and get to what his mission really is at the moment, Jonah graciously ignores the touchy greeting... despite the awkwardness on his end and the fact that Nigel is still there, watching.  "Actually, I wanted to talk about, uh, Y/N."

Marcus' eyes immediately widen and his eyebrows raise, taking his hand off Jonah in favour of ringing his hands and stepping back nervously himself. "Oh, man... you found out, didn't you? Did she tell you? Cuz like, I know the bro code says its not cool to bone your friend's sister but- "

"Ah, ah, ah!" No, no, no, Jonah does not want to hear those words. No. "No, um. That's fine, whatever. Y/N's sexuality is her own. But- "

"Its a ruse, Marcus. He's here to kick your ass." Nigel insists, still very much there despite everything about this situation having nothing to do with him and instead just freaks Marcus out more as the warehouse head's eyes go even wider and he takes another step back- raising his hands in surrender.

"No, no! Nigel!- That's... no. I'm not here to kick anyone's ass! The asses here are all perfectly safe, I promise. Okay?" When Nigel's expression doesn't change a lick, Jonah gives up and just gestures off in a random direction. "Nigel, could you give us a minute, here?"

"What, so you can jump my boy here alone?"

"Alone?? Who's alone?" Jonah is getting increasingly irritated. "We're literally surrounded by other warehouse workers!! Ones who are actually doing their jobs, by the way. Maybe you should- "

Marcus finally intercepts and pats Nigel's shoulder, getting his attention from looking confrontationally at Jonah and smiles relatively softly at him. "Its okay, Nigel. If Jonah wants to kick me in my junk once- he's kinda entitled to it. Bro code and everything. Why don't you get back to work? I got this. Thanks, though." Nigel leaves, with that, but certainly not without giving Jonah one last greasy look over his shoulder and an 'Okay, Marcus. But call me, if... you know... '. Along with an extra evil squinty look at Jonah. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks bud. I know I can count on you." When Nigel is finally out of the picture, Jonah feels fatigued and just wants to get back to Y/N. At least its just him and Marcus now, though, so they should be doing that very soon. "So! What'd you want? If you really do wanna hurt me, then, can we go outside? By my car ideally, so I can drive the emergency room right after? Or you, cuz I mean... you're small, man. And I'll have to defend myself. Even if its fair. Its instinct, you know? You get it."

"I'm not gonna hurt you?? Why does everyone think- " What is wrong with people here? Do I give off a confrontational aura right now, or something??? "Ugh, whatever. Y/N needs you- she's been in the bathroom for 4 hours. We did try to get her out ourselves, but our attempts have been... l-lacklustre." Lacklustre? Okay, even he is surprised to hear that one come out of him.

"She needs... me? Like, she said that?" All of a sudden Marcus' expression changes. Worry wells in his eyes and his forehead creases, and he glances at the door out to the floor before returning to Jonah, looking restless now as his body fights with him to go, immediately. "Oh, what's wrong with her? Is she sick??"

"Uhh... in a manner of speaking... Look, I just think she needs to see you right now."

That makes the taller man move towards the door, clipboard dropped on a box on his way. "Of course; Right away man. Come on, lets go see her. So you really don't know what's wrong?? Should we pick up some root beer on the way?" Jonah follows behind, hand on his chin as he answers Marcus' questions. Wow... He did not expect such a response from him... He... kinda respects it, in a way. Its a pleasant surprise, at least.

___BACK TO YOU AND YOUR POV. God I hate third person. Its so hard, I want to cry___

"Y/N? You in here??" As soon as that voice registers in my mind, my heart beat skips in the worst way and I almost start to full on panic all over again, but thankfully instead just freeze and only widen my eyes. What the hell? The door to the employee bathroom closes as Marcus shuts himself in and you watch his boots appear under the door to your stall. "What's going on? Jonah couldn't tell me what's wrong with you," Jonah. I glare at the stall door. I'm going to kill him. "But I brought you some root beer for you- a total cure all. I promise. And some (Enter your favourite snack) cuz I know you like them. Here," He stretches up and holds the items over the stall door, and, feeling genuinely touched that Marcus was sweet enough to bring these, I get up off the toilet seat and accept them from him.

"Thank you, that's really nice. I'm... not sure, that the root beer will fix this, though." I speak carefully, sitting down and holding the items in my lap close to my stomach.  

"Course it will! I poured some in Mateo's ear once when he had an infection... I think it worked?"

Probably not. "This is a lot bigger then an ear infection... Kinda permanent, too?"

"Oh god, is it cancer?" He pauses for a moment but before I can put that particular worry at rest... or remind him that cancer is not always permanent... he makes it worse, and I fight not to facepalm. "The plague??! Its still a thing, you know. Jesus, its not that is it? Please tell me its not that! That would be the worst!" I mean... yeah, it would.

"Oh- no no! No, nothing like that!! I'm just pregnant!"

... wait.

Immediately I want to take back my words and say them differently- because is that really the way I just broke it to him?? Oh my god. My hand slaps over my mouth- then pulls back an inch to speak again, but is definitely on guard to slap again and prohibit anymore stupid to come out. "I mean! ... N-no big deal?" My voice gets tiny. "At least its not the plague, right?" I'm just making this worse, so I cover my mouth again.

Marcus does not respond, and I can imagine his face crystal clear, without having to look. He would have his mouth hanging open like a cartoon character, his shoulders have dropped, eyes are blank, and he's pale as hell. Oh god... oh god oh go oh god... I cover my whole face now and just try to breath evenly, and not talk anymore. I was right! He's not going to even like me anymore, this is going to ruin how he looks at me- I cant have Marcus look at me coldly. I really cant.

Finally, a few minutes later the door to the bathroom creaks open again and I know it's not Marcus escaping because I can still see his boots under the door and they haven't shifted in a while. Amy's voice rings out, too loudly in the stock silent bathroom. "... everything okay in here? We haven't heard anything in a while- Marcus?"

He doesn't respond.

I hear Amy walk in now, her heels click-click-clicking on the tiled floor. "Marcus? Marcus, are you okay?" She snaps her fingers, assumedly near his unresponsive face. I slip my fingers down to just cover my mouth, straining my ears to hear any movement from him. "Wake up!" Another snap. "Marcus wake up."

All of a sudden I hear shifting and his boots shift slightly and I squeeze my eyes slowly shut- now he speaks. Now's the part where he speaks. Now's the worst part! He either leaves, or stays. "Uhh... I'm awake, okay?"

...

Amy and I are both startled by the seriousness in Marcus' voice- Amy evidently in the way she responds, backing out of the room. "... Okay! Um, well talk. To Y/N. I'm... just gonna... wait outside... "

Marcus just grunts in response, turning back to my stall door. Then he wraps his knuckles against the surface and I flinch- unsure whether to unlock it and be a grown up or stay hidden away like I really, really want to. Its not like I'm afraid he'll hurt me or anything, not at all! Its just... I don't like to disappoint people and I'm terrified at seeing his face. "Y/N? Can you come out, now?"

"Ummm... no... " I wince, keeping my eyes closed to the world. As if that'll hide me from it.

"No???" He asks, bewildered.

"No... "

Marcus' voice isn't at all as cold-serious as it was when he spoke to Amy, but still. There is still definitely an unfamiliar focused quality about it, and its making me nervous. "What? Come on. What do you think's gonna happen? I'll yell at you? Come on, that's not gonna happen; Come out. "

"I'd really rather stay in here... " I fire back.

"Don't be scared of me." He really does sound trustworthy... but that fear, man; She's one unrelenting bitch.

My voice goes high pitched when I answer, too vehement to be the truth. "I-I'm not! Silly! Why would I be scared of you??" My eyes open up again and I just wince. Such a liar.

"Aghh... " I just listen to him shifting around out there looking for something for a bit, or thinking of what to say next, while I myself sit and think comfortable that there is nothing that will make this worse, seeing as I'm safe and sound in this toilet stall... before his boots disappear from my vision under the door and I hear him disappear out of the bathroom then return again almost immediately, going into the stall beside me and putting something down on the toilet seat in there.

Oh my god- he wouldn't dare! He would not-

Then all of a sudden he's climbing over the wall and I have to jump off the toilet seat and press closely to the stall door, root beer and snack still hugged in my arms like teddy bears. Marcus eases himself over the wall and onto the toilet seat before my eyes, then jumps off it to the tiles again in front of me, while I gape wide at him. "I- what- Marcus!"

"Well you weren't coming out! It was my only option!" He exclaims, and now that I see him I do relax a bit. There's no coldness in his face now, and there is certainly no unfamiliar, unfriendly seriousness, either, seeing as the man just climbed into a toilet stall to get to me. Very Marcus-y. I slowly let out a relieved breath, which is still also a 'calm down' breath as the pressure is certainly still on. I can see him, but he can also see me.

Eager to avoid the issue at hand, I snap. "You might've kicked me!"

"No, I wouldn't have." He makes a defensive 'pshhh' sound immaturely, waving me off with a hand before resting them both on his hips and looking right at me. I give him my own dubious look right back- What makes him so sure??? He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, anyway." Suddenly, a beautiful big smile spreads across his face; the kind that still makes me a little bit weak and almost forces me to smile back. Even now, in this situation. "This is great."

And then I'm speechless, mouth closed and eyebrows furrowed together. ... Great? What? Quickly he moves to clarify, before grinning that goofy grin of his. "The pregnancy! Man, I've seen enough girlfriends get pregnant over the years... its nice to see one having my baby." A moment passes and my system is just registering this reaction - not even relieved, yet. Just in shock and a little less anxiety, - before he drops his smile, raises an eyebrow, and adds: "It is mine, right?"

Still shocked, I answer as if the question was more on the lines of 'That was my cupcake that I just ate, right?'. Meaning, probably too casually. "Oh- oh, yeah! Abs- absolutely." He doesn't seem to mind.

He beams again. "Great! We'll be awesome parents- that is assuming you wanna keep the baby, right?"

"Uh... " All I want to say is yes, right now. Even as the complications of raising a baby right now linger in the forefront of my mind. But at the same time I'm looking at Marcus and I just want to. I want to have the baby, and I want to do it with him... in the moment, he's the absolute perfect person to do it with. I choke out, "Yeah."

He fist pumps the air at that response, and finally the relief starts to settle in my stomach and my heart... a smile grows on my own face. My eyes even get a little watery with the powerful relief. "YES! That's right, I'm gonna be a Dad. Whoo! We gotta tell everyone. But how, do you think? Should we get a cake or something that says it in icing?? Or should we just go out there and announce it over the speakers? Or should we just not tell anyone? Cuz on the one hand, I wanna tell everyone- but on the other... I don't really want Carol to know you're pregnant. That could be bad."

"Um... " I don't even know what to say. I just want to hug him, so I do. I step forward and wrap my arms around his middle, burying my face in his coveralls and the body I've become so familiar with over the past months that smells so uniquely - and not always so pleasantly, but definitely comforting,  - like Marcus and squeeze tight, closing my eyes. He smells like that 'new furniture' smell that's really just 'warehouse', and an unfamiliar home, and a little bit of B.O.

Thank god.

Amy was right. Of course she was. Even when I was stressing, I knew the image I had of Marcus getting mad about this didn't feel quite right, but... you have to prepare yourself for the worst, you know? I'm just so glad he's the way he is though, as he wraps his arms around my shoulders in return and bends his neck to press his cheek to my head. "I'm really happy about this. And I know we haven't figure anything out. With us, with money, with anything actually, but... we will, okay? I'll do my best, I promise."

"... Thank fuck." I chuckle, although its muffled and get a similar sound from him in return. "I'm really happy, too." He rubs my back in that rough, comforting way that guys do and I might as well melt; He's too wonderful. I bite my bottom lip, thinking my next move through before taking a deep breath and deciding to take the plunge and ask. "... hey... um... b-boyfriend?"

Marcus immediately pulls me back and holds me at arms length, a crazy-big grin splitting his face. "Oh, yes! This day just keeps getting better and better; Come on, we definitely have to tell everyone this, lets go." Excitedly, he slips past me and unlocks the stall door finally, but pauses and turns back to me before its pushed open at all. I tilt my head in curiosity- what's up? "Unless... congrats sex?"

...

Oh my god- a snort, transforming into a laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. I pull him closer by the front of his coveralls, grinning at both the idea and how silly he is and gently tug him down closer to my level. I close my lips and knit my eyebrows together understandingly. "... How about you come over after work? First we should probably deal with the others? You know, the ones hanging outside right now?"

"Oh, yeah, probably. Oh man- I'll be basically related to Jonah now!" Oh- well- not exactly but... okay fine. If it makes the guy happy. "Ha ha, look forward to seeing this face every Christmas, bro." Oh boy.

I just grin at that - Goodluck Jonah, - before leaning up the rest of the way and pressing a careful kiss to Marcus' lips which he immediately returns with enthusiasm, hands abandoning the stall lock and collecting my waist instead.

This is going to be okay.

It will work out. I hope.

BONUS:

Later in the breakroom while Marcus is busy with talking to some of the other Cloud 9 employees about the news, Jonah takes the seat next to me and I raise my eyebrows at him- he's obviously dying to say something. I know my brother at least that much. He sighs.

"So... you... haven't eaten the cheese, right? I mean, I have but I'm hoping you haven't been put through such, uh, cruel and unusual torture... "

"Oh, no. Absolutely not. I managed to convince him it was cannibalism for women." I grin, returning immediately to my Cloud 9 Caesar salad as Jonah sighs long and hard in relief, relaxing back into his chair.

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.6

ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4 ch.5

Summary: It's backstory time!

Mandatory warning since this is not a usual thing on my blog so I think a separate warning would be useful, there will be talk of past abuse and alcohol abuse.

----

"Wakey wakey," came the gruff voice from just outside her bedroom door.

It was slightly muffled but more than enough to make her jolt awake, muscle memory taking over the remnants of sleep. She only had one minute to be out the door. It was more than enough though, her routine perfected over years. Get out of bed. Put socks on. Get shoes. Grab the duffel bag. She slept dressed anyways, ready to go at any time.

Or not?

Where were her clothes?

Nevermind that she had time to put something on. Just grab a shirt and pants from the dresser.

Hurried steps took her over the plush carpet. Wasn't it supposed to be a solid grey? Had her mother swapped it for one of their fancier rugs?

That didn't matter right now. Clothes. She needed clothes. When she got to her dresser she stood there, frowning at the bookshelf that now took its place. She didn't even remember acquiring the tomes in front of her, most of them old and with unfamiliar trinkets surrounding them. That's not how her bedroom was arranged. Why wasn't anything in its place? Was Alex playing a prank on her? No, he wouldn't do that.

Time was almost up and she needed some goddamn clothes and to get out and her head was starting to spin-

"Nicole?"

Her eyes snapped back to the bed she had so hastily vacated, Cassandra looking at her concerned.

From the room's entrance came another familiar voice. Bela. "I only wanted to let you know that Daniela wants to go for a hunt tomorrow." Her eyes were averted and as soon as the words left her lips, she turned and shut the door behind her, not waiting for an answer from her sister.

Confusion mixed in with dizziness, but Nicole let out a quiet oh when she fully realized where she was. Cassandra's bedroom. They came here last night and fell asleep. And she was only wearing underwear.

She went to sit on the edge of the bed, head resting in her hands to try alleviate the fog in her brain. She probably looked like hell, but that was the least of her concerns right now.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Came the uncharacteristically soft voice of Cassandra, who had moved from her spot under the blankets and was gently rubbing her back.

"Uh, nothing," Nicole replied, as if she didn't look ready to puke.

Cassandra only pursed her lips and frowned. "You looked like you simultaneously saw a ghost and were ready to fight a ghost."

She swallowed thickly and forced out a laugh. "Oh are we at "tragic backstory" relationship level now?" It was at best a pathetic attempt to change the subject and at worst annoying.

When she looked back at the brunette she was still frowning, but not in annoyance. Her golden eyes sparked with concern, scrutinizing the redhead's face and body language for any clue as to what was wrong. It sent a pang of guilt through Nicole's chest. She took a deep breath and leaned back into Cassandra's touch, trying to collect her thoughts. Where does one even begin to explain this whole mess?

"Have you ever wondered why I came here? To the village?"

"...Not really," she admitted.

Nicole took another deep breath, pulling the words from her mouth as if she were pulling out teeth with pliers.

"My dad, he…he had a bit of a weird business. We never knew the details of it, he never told any of us and we knew better than to snoop, but I do know it had something to do with drugs and was highly illegal."

Staying in one place proved itself a pesky little task, so Nicole stood up and started to collect her clothes from the floor and started dressing. Cassandra instead remained in the same spot, listening intently.

"With a job like that you make enemies by default. And that made him paranoid beyond belief. When me and Alex, my older brother, were children it wasn't that bad. Worst thing he would do was lock our bedroom doors and refuse to let us attend public school."

She narrowed her eyes at a wall, still not wanting to meet Cassandra's gaze. Now that she said it out loud, not that bad sounded pretty bad too. Whatever.

"It started going downhill when I was around…" She pursed her lips, trying to make her brain put together some semblance of a timeline. "Twelve. Yeah twelve. He came bursting into our bedrooms at 2 a.m. saying that someone with a gun had gotten into our house and wanted to kill us. We were mortified. I remember my mom holding me and Alex in the backseat crying while my dad drove us to his secluded cabin in the woods."

"And that became a habit of his. He'd have us do these drills every once in a while and then scream at us if we didn't do everything in under a minute."

"That's so fucking stupid," Cassandra spat, golden eyes gleaming with anger.

Nicole started pacing back and forth, desperate for a distraction. "Oh I know. And after a few years of this I made sure to tell him exactly how much I thought it was bullshit."

Finally coming to terms with the lack of something to do while she talked, Nicole gave up and went back to the bed. She sat down by Cassandra's side, though still avoiding her eyes.

"Do you know what getting punched in the face feels like?"

Cassandra's expression contorted into a disgusted grimace. With the hand not on Nicole's back rubbing comforting circles, she dug talons into the soft fabric of a blanket. She didn't really have an answer because frankly she didn't know. Her body reacted very differently to physical harm and the few that could hurt her wouldn't go for a stupid punch to the face. Nicole kept on talking though, not really looking for an answer.

"That shut me up for a bit. Key word a bit. When he woke me up on the night before an important test I was pissed. I just thought fuck it and went upstairs to the library. It took him around twenty minutes to find me and when he did… Well, I regretted some life choices."

"I was so done with being there in that house. Though thankfully my parents went on a business trip the next day and Alex was at a friend's for the weekend. I had the whole house to myself and decided to grab one of my mom's vintage wines and just spend the evening on the couch drinking. And that's how I became an alcoholic at the ripe old age of fifteen." She let out a humorless chuckle at the end.

That day was a blur in her mind. The only thing that she vividly remembered was Alex coming home early and finding her blackout drunk on the couch. At the end of the day though, they were both in the same boat. He just grabbed the bottle from her and started to sip away at the remaining wine. Laughing at each other's hangover the next day was the most fun they'd had in ages so it became a habit for the both of them. Every once in a while they'd go into the wine cellar, pick out a bottle and then go drink it in the attic while they pretended their problems didn't exist. It continued well into their college years. Nicole was barely able to recall doing anything during her years in med school that wasn't being drunk or studying.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. That's not where she meant to go with the story. Cassandra placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder brought her enough comfort to try and wrap it up.

"I guess in a sick ironic way my dad was right in the end though," she subconsciously shifted closer to the brunette and she wasted no time in loosely wrapping her arms around Nicole's waist.

"I was three weeks away from completing my residency when I came home from the lab, only to find my mom in a puddle of blood on the living room floor. My brother was in a similar state in his bedroom. My dad was nowhere to be found but I didn't care. It was his fault," she swallowed the lump in her throat and felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"I just grabbed my documents and a duffle bag with some clothes and ran. Booked the first flight to Romania to come stay at my grandparents'. Oh except they know what my dad is all about! Told me I had an hour to get some rest and be out of their house as they didn't want any trouble with my dad's people."

"I did grab a fuck ton of my dad's cash though so at least hotels weren't an issue," her words were coming out chocked, occasionally interrupted by sniffles. She rapidly whipped a hand across her face. "Have you ever been to Braşov? Old part of the city is quite lovely."

Cassandra grimaced. She didn't want to interrupt, but seeing Nicole in such a state made something in her unbeating heart ache. She gently wiped the trail of tears from her cheeks and placed a kiss on her temple from where she was sitting half behind Nicole. Then, with the softest voice she could muster, "And how did you meet Duke?"

Nicole's eyes widened slightly, apparently having forgotten that detail.

"Oh I stumbled upon his shop one day. I thought he was selling some neat stuff and he was nice so I kept coming back. One thing led to another and when I found out about a place off the map where no one gets in or out without help I thought it would be the perfect place to hide from the people trying to put a bullet through my head." Then she winced slightly. "I was also mildly tipsy when I made that decision."

Cassandra looked a little incredulous. "And he just brought you here?"

"I paid him."

Cassandra's expression turned to what could only be described as disappointed but not surprised. Then her attention went back on the redhead, glossy eyes fixated on the floor. To say she sucked at comforting others was an understatement. Daniela was far more well versed in the art of making others not feel miserable but she was nothing if not stubborn enough to try.

"Listen," she shifted to sit in front of her, hand placed gently on a wet cheek. "If anyone ever dares come near you with the intention of harming you, I'll make them regret every life choice that led them there. You're safe here." She may not be great with her words, but if Cassandra excelled in anything, it was keeping her loved ones safe. Loved one huh.

Nicole leaned into her touch, finally meeting Cassandra's eyes. There was a gentle kind of determination in her golden gaze, accompanied by a fiery rage that, for once in her life, brought comfort as opposed to terror. It came with the knowledge that it wasn't directed at her but at whoever may want to harm her.

She didn't doubt her words. Instead she shifted closer, face nuzzled in the crook of Cassandra's neck and, barely above a whisper, said: "Thank you."

[pascalpanic]

Cigarette Daydreams

Pairings: young Javier Peña x young f!reader

Inspiration: Cigarette Daydreams by Cage The Elephant

Summary: Javier drives all night in the rain, wondering what went wrong and where. How he lost you, the one woman he’d ever loved. 

W/C: 5.4k

Warnings: language, talk of death, lots of talk of sexual content but nothing explicit, lots of angst, emotions are running high here, talk of poor mental health. this handles some heavy topics so please be warned. set in the 60s so there’s a really brief mention of being drafted. 

A/N: So this is a song I like but it’s really emotional, as is this fic. I just wanted to explore what Javier would’ve been like when he was young. It’s not necessarily all in chronological order but I kind of think it makes sense... let me know if it doesn’t. thank you to all my friends/beta readers who helped me with this one, like @leonieb, @feelingmadclever, @theteddylupinexperience, and a bunch of others :)

Javier smoked his first cigarette with you. It would become a lifelong addiction: the cigarettes, that is. You, on the other hand, were a yearning he could never satisfy. An addiction is something you can feed; you can dull it by giving it exactly what it wants. Javier wanted you, still wants you desperately. The difference is that he cannot have you. 

It’s been years since he last saw you. Since he last heard your enchanting laugh, smelled the warm scent of your hair product as he kissed the top of your head. He thinks about you all the goddamn time. What life would be like now if you hadn’t gone your own way. He misses you like hell, but he’s sure you’re off and married and conquering the world in your own way. He’s never tried to find out. He’s too scared it’s true. 

-

Laredo was more of the place you told people you hailed from. The name was recognizable, easily: oh, you’re from the place where A&M’s other campus is located? Exactly, you’d respond, and it was much less of a hassle. In reality, you and Javier both grew up in a small community out in the farmlands near Laredo. 

You’d grown up with him. Everyone in the town knew you, and they knew Javi equally as well. He was an interest of your community: from the day you took those standardized tests in second grade, everyone knew that Peñita was going places, but his temper held him back. His emotions consumed him. 

He was blonde as a baby; you’d seen in photos, scattered around Chucho’s house. His hair gradually grew darker as he grew older, and your classmates all teased him. You didn’t remember a time where his hair was lighter than a dark blonde, being a child yourself. But it was an evolution that matched him, you had come to realize in your adult years. 

Not only was he smart, he was a born athlete. Javier was always a bit smaller than the other boys, but damn was he quick. He could run and run and no one could match him. That’s what made him so successful in early football training. From the start, Chucho enrolled him in football, despite Alejandra’s weak protests. She gave in when she saw her baby in a helmet and massive shoulder pads, grinning at her with one front tooth. 

You and Javier were not in the same circles as children. He played with the boys on the field, always the running back when they played football or the offense when they played soccer. He had a temper, though. If there was ever a scuffle on the soccer pitch, you could bet Javier was one of the fighters. You, on the other hand, sat in the shade of the elementary school building, reading book after book. 

His mother was beautiful. She had long dark hair that smelled of something exotic and warm, and she had a smile with a dimple in one cheek. She brought treats to your class on his birthday, which was in November. She read books to your class on her assigned story days, Javier cuddled into her side. He adored her. 

Alejandra Peña died when you were in sixth grade. You can remember the way the class was silent the next morning, Javier’s desk empty. You nearly threw up from the emotion when you heard that she was gone. Your eyes blurred with tears. The loss was inconceivable to your twelve-year-old brain. 

You rode your bike past his house that night. There was a lamp on in the room you knew to be his. His silhouette paced back and forth through the small, second-floor bedroom. You didn’t know what you could do or say, and so you rode off through the neighborhood. 

His hair grew even darker after that. What had been a dark blonde became a light brown as middle school progressed. His anger flared up. He would throw punches when the kid acting as referee made a call Javier deemed to be bullshit. 

You were something different. Javier found you fascinating the first time you truly interacted, seated together for a class. You were fourteen then, his face just starting to grow a bit of dark hair on his jaw. You were absorbed by your books, hardly talking to anyone and even sneaking it under the table during lectures. 

One day, he called your name to catch your attention. You didn’t notice it, lost in your own world. He snatched the book from your hands and slammed it on the table. “Hey. Princesa, we got work to do.”

You frowned. “Give it back, Peñita.”

“Only after we finish this assignment. I don’t want homework tonight.” He stuffed the book in his backpack and tossed you a pencil. 

“I won’t do it until you give it back,” you bartered coolly, crossing your arms and sitting back in the chair. “And I have more willpower than you. That’s a fact.”

He glared at you for a moment, the both of you staring the other down. It lasted quite a while, more than you expected. Javier broke first, handing you your book and grumbling over the worksheet. 

You became better partners after that. Javier even apologized for it two weeks later. You forgave him, and something about his smile made your heart flutter around in your ribcage. 

That started the friendship. You’d walk together in the halls, chatting about your parents and sports and homework for the night. Then middle school became high school and things changed between you, even though nothing you did was different.  

Javier had always been a good athlete. He became the first-string running back for the high school, leading them to state his freshman year. When you walked together in the halls now, there was an expectation from the others. Boys and girls only walked together if they were couples, and a star football player was a coveted date. 

You’d explained that to him. “Javi, as much as I love you, and you know I do, people are gonna think we’re together. I don’t want you to have to deal with that,” you’d pleaded. “I’d be ruining your chances. I think it’s better if we walk separately now.”

Javier nodded. He had to play along. He couldn’t let you know that in the past few months, he’d begun to feel things for you he’d never felt before. He had dreams about you at night, the kind where he’d wake up to damp sheets. He’d noticed your body changing, and his changed too. He thought about you when he’d lie awake at night, his hand in his boxers. The hormones were beginning to pump through Javier’s blood in a way that may have never really ever stopped. 

From then on, you’d walk alone in the hall. Your nose was buried in a book at first, navigating it alone. Then you’d made friends, and you’d talk with people as you slammed your locker shut. You’d give Javier a wave, leading him to be roughhoused by his teammates who took him in as one of their own. 

You became different from him. You were known for being an artist and a writer. You embraced the loving spirit of the 60s’ culture and made warm oil paintings of fields and flowers, wrote poetry that won awards, and even wrote a collection of short stories. You weren’t a hippie, but you were artsy. Javi became a bit of a jock. 

The pressure grew to be too much in the middle of Javier’s junior season. It was the end of fall. You were both 17. You’d stopped maintaining a friendship now, far from as close as you’d been in the earlier days. You waved at him in the hall and that was it. It changed when the stress of being an athlete pushed on Javier’s brain until it popped. He quit the team, spending his time after school in his bedroom at home. He no longer proudly wore the team’s t-shirts or his letter jacket. 

You heard about it through rumors. You didn’t talk to Javier. He kept his head down in the halls now. There were dark circles under his eyes. He’d sit in the library for hours, forcing himself to cram knowledge into his brain. If he wouldn’t be going to college for football now, he figured, he’d better get smart fast. 

You’d sat at a table across the library as you worked on your chemistry homework. You glanced up. Javier looked down. He’d been looking at you. You stared at him until he looked up again. “Can I sit with you?” You’d mouthed, and he nodded. A small smile graced his face. 

Packing up your textbook and papers, you dragged a chair over. “Hi, Javi,” you said. Your voice was quiet and painfully soft. 

He smiles a little. “Hey, princesa.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the both of you staring at your papers and pretending like you were working. You weren’t. “I missed you,” you finally admitted after the silence passed. 

His heart skipped a beat. “I missed you too. Probably more than you missed me.”

You shook your head. “I was wrong. I liked walking with you in the halls. I miss that, I miss us,” you admit, your hand resting over his. He looked up at you with the big brown eyes you’ve always loved, and your smile softened. “Your hair is so dark now, Peñita.”

He nodded a little. “It just keeps going. I don’t know if it will ever stop.”

“You’re funny,” you chuckled and retracted your hand. “How have you been? I heard about the football thing.”

He sighed softly. “It was too much. Not me, not anymore. I hated it.”

“Who are you now, then?” You asked quietly. 

He looked up at you. “I don’t know.”

You’d smiled. “I can help you find out.”

-

That’s how your friendship began again.

It wasn’t a friendship for long, not with how you noticed Javier had changed. His hair was that warm, dark, chocolate color, his nose finally fit his face, he’d grown stronger and leaner and taller. He’d acquired a different sense of confidence, a different posture and walk. But it was clear: he was still your Javi. The one who stole your book all those years ago. 

You’d grown even more beautiful over your time apart, he noticed. You’d become self assured and confident too and it showed. You had a little mean streak, and Javier loved it more than life itself. He got a little weak at the knees when you’d tease him. 

He’d become a social outcast, essentially abandoning his place in the social hierarchy that high schools provide. When you knocked on his door a few days later, Chucho answered, slightly confused. “Hello.”

“Hi,” you said, smiling apologetically. “I’m a friend of Javi’s, I’m here to study with him.”

The older man was a mirror of Javier many years from now. He had a strong nose too, and a worn face. It made lines when he’d smiled. “I didn’t know Javi had many friends anymore.”

You shrugged. “Well, I think you’re right. But… I’m here.”

Javi jogged down the stairs, frowning when he saw his father at the door. You came inside and studied and Javier couldn’t help but to beam at you. Studying wasn’t much of studying. As you’d sidetracked the work and started conversing, Javier leaned in as if he was going to kiss you. You stopped him, but kept his face close. “Not now, Javi. I want it to be perfect. But I do want to kiss you.”

He’d panicked when you’d stopped him, but your words reassured him, and he breathed a chuckle. “Sneak out with me tonight.”

You agreed. 

12:30 A.M. rolled around. You pocketed a pack of your dad’s cigarettes and a lighter and rode your bike to the pond nearby. 

Javier sat there waiting. He was wrapped in a leather jacket, jeans covering his long legs as he sat by the side of the pond. Crickets chirped and birds called and when he looked at you, your heart fell apart in your chest. It never really glued itself back together. Not even to this day. 

You sat next to him, and he put an arm around your shoulders. You couldn’t wait any longer, and you leaned in and kissed him and he was absolutely perfect. His soft lips pressed back against yours, those hands buried themselves in your hair. You broke away a second later and both of you grinned at each other. It was only seconds more before he pulled you in for the second kiss you’d ever had in your life. 

That night was not only Javier’s first kiss but the first time he smoked a cigarette. You pulled one thin stick from the pack and placed it between his lips, lighting the end. 

He was a natural at it, unlike you, who’d tried before and choked and spluttered on the smoke. You were better at it now, able to handle yourself. He breathed in and out and passed it to you, and he looked so effortlessly cool and sexy and beautiful that you didn’t take a drag, you grabbed his face and kissed him again. 

You were so many firsts for Javier. His first kiss, his first cigarette, his first fuck. You’d done it in the back of his truck, on a hot night where you parked in a field far from the town and rolled all of the windows down. You finally got to feel his strong body, got to feel his passion for you as he tugged on your lip with his teeth and pushed inside of you. It was sheer bliss for both of you, even if he never made you orgasm that night. 

It didn’t take long for the two of you to figure that out. Javier was a natural, his hands wandering and feeling everything your body had to offer until they found just the right spot to make you cry his name into the hot Texas night. You snuck out with him often, smoked and fucked in his house when Chucho was gone, or by that pond. 

You talked a lot after. You were the first he opened up to about his mother. He missed her like hell. He told you that he wanted to work in some kind of law enforcement. He thought drug enforcement might suit him. You opened up about your own trauma to him, and he held you as you cried into his body. He’d kissed your forehead and told you he promised that nothing would ever happen to you when he’s around, and it was completely believable because Javier was like some deity to you. He was strong and warm and loving and kind and beautiful and you thought, truly, that he could do no wrong. 

He never betrayed that trust either. Javier was a wonderful boyfriend to you in the daylight hours too. You’d study together, go on bike rides or just drive around in his truck. You spent almost every weekend with him. Chucho adored you too, loved your humor and kindness and most of all, your love for his son. Your family didn’t like Javier much, so you simply avoided your house with him. 

Javier was so proud when he first pulled up your driveway in his truck soon after you began again. He worked for the Villafañes down the road as a farmhand, a summertime assistant to the aging man who lived there. He saved his earnings all summer and split the cost with Chucho. He’d had it for 8 months and it had been on the verge of the junkyard the entire time. 

It was a piece of shit, and you both knew it. It was a deep red, rusty and broken down. The shocks were terrible and made it bounce like a bull in a ring. It didn’t matter, because it was his.

He’d pick you up in that truck and drive all night. The two of you sang along to the radio, then would talk, then make out in the backseat and drive again. You loved Javier, and you admitted it quickly. He said it immediately after you. 

People looked at you like you were crazy when you held Javier’s hands in the hall. Wasn’t he a mental case? Who would give up something like he had, and for no apparent reason? You didn’t give a shit, even if your friends told you Javier was no good. They didn’t know him, didn’t know that his middle name was Fernando and he hated it and that his mother’s favorite gem, ruby, was yours too, that Chucho told you Javi wanted to marry you someday or that Javier loved to nudge your neck with his nose after sex, both of you warm with the hot Texan air flowing through his open windows. 

You told them they didn’t get it, and they said you were the one who didn’t. You’ve got everything going for you. Why risk it with the nut job?

Javier remained a pariah, an outcast, but you didn’t give a shit. You called out his name in the hall and waved, sat with him at lunch and laughed until you choked on the terrible school meal. You were loud and affectionate, and it brought Javi back from the fringes of high school society he’d been banished to. 

Javier worked in fields and barns to earn money, building his muscles. You worked in customer service, building your restraint. Your town had opened a drive-in restaurant a few years before, complete with roller-skating waitresses. Being a skilled skater, you signed up. 

It was fun, but a pain in the ass some days. Customer service was rarely enjoyable. 

The highlight of the summer after your junior year was Javier pulling up to the restaurant every few days. “Peñita!” You’d squeal and put in an order for just what he always wanted- strawberry milkshake, double patty cheeseburger, large fries. 

“Hey, Princesa,” he’d mumble back with a small smile, leaning in for a kiss. He looked like a Texan James Dean, white t-shirt cuffed and worn jeans. His dark hair was gelled back, though much of it fell loose from his long day of hauling crops for Don Villafañe. This coolness was contrasted by his shitty truck, dust caking the windows, and the fact that he was far from blonde now. 

You’d fold your arms over his open window and kiss him, tripping over your skates in your excitement. He’d laugh and tease you, and he’d always give you the cherry off the top of his milkshake. You began telling your coworkers to put two cherries on top, so that he could have one too. He still gave both to you. 

During your senior year, Javier gave you his class ring. It was large and bulky on your fingers, thinner than his, but it made you beam with pride as you walked through the halls. You’d cried when he gave it to you, promising he’d replace it with a diamond someday. You knew it would never last that long. 

Senior year was uneventful. You went to prom with Javier, wearing a peach colored dress. Javier wore his father’s tuxedo with a tie to match your color. The photo was awkward but sweet, the two of you clearly in love. You graduated equally uneventfully, and the two of you spent the night in his truck, out in a field, promising sweet nothings through the sound of skin slapping skin. “Here’s to the class of ‘66,” Javier murmured into your neck. 

You had big dreams, and Javier’s were far different. He planned on attending Texas A&M, not far away. You’d earned a fantastic scholarship at a small liberal arts college in Upstate New York. You both knew these things, but Javier seemed determined to make it work. He knew the two of you loved each other; shouldn’t that be enough?

You felt guilty the entire summer. You had anxiety attacks quite a bit, felt that you were leading Javier on. Then, another part of you thought, he must know. He must not believe you could pull off a long distance relationship with only letters and phone calls. 

Javier passed the summer blissfully unaware. He was young and in love: he thought there was nothing that could go wrong. You still spent time together, more than you ever had, in fact. Something gnawed away at your insides as the time passed. 

On the rare days neither of you worked, you’d find somewhere deserted and sit with your legs dangling from his tailgate. You’d nick liquor and cigarettes from your parents and share them, laughing and talking. Planning a future you knew wouldn’t come. 

The day before you left, you spent the day with your boyfriend. You had a picnic dinner, complete with some stolen beers from Chucho’s refrigerator. You sat on a blanket in a nearby field, watching as the afternoon dwindled down to an orange-hazed sky. 

As the sun set, tears formed in your eyes. “Javi?” You asked him softly, your voice cracking. 

“What is it, princesa?” He returned, pulling you closer into his side. The tall grass swayed around you, and you bit your lip to stop from choking out a sob. 

“I love you, Javier. And I always will.” But as you said the words, your actions said otherwise. You removed your class ring from your finger, placing it in his palm. “But, I think… I think we need to be our own people for a while. Maybe someday we’ll meet again. Maybe things will be different, but I’m going to New York and you’re staying here. Fuck, you could be drafted, and I-“

Javier stopped you, pulling away and looking at you in the face. His eyes showed his heartbreak. “I thought we were gonna get married, be together forever.”

You choked out a sob. “Javi, I want to. I do. But I can’t. I can’t live that kind of life.” You wanted to travel, to do things, to live freely and be whoever you wanted. Javier wanted to stay in Laredo and work in law enforcement. The two weren’t compatible.

“There’s nothing stopping you,” he begged, taking your hand in both of his. “Please, I’d move to New York with you, or you could go to A&M with me, please,” he asked, his eyes welling with tears. “You’re the love of my life, baby.”

You couldn’t look at him. The emotion was too much to bear. “Javier,” you whined and pulled your hand from his. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

His heartbroken stare makes you cry harder into your hands. You stood, ready to find your way to the road and walk home. 

Javier caught you by the waist, then removed your hands from your face. “I-I understand. I do. But… kiss me one last time?”

You stared at him, tears staining your face and his cheeks equally damp. You nodded and Javier cupped your face, kissing you slowly and lovingly. It was tender and bittersweet. It was not the way you’d kiss him at the drive-in restaurant or in the back of his truck. It was not the way you’d sneak a kiss goodbye in front of Chucho. It was desperate. You both knew what it meant. Maybe that’s why it lasted so long. 

You broke away and pressed your forehead to his before finding the dirt road and beginning the walk home. You needed to finish packing, and was getting dark. You didn’t dare to ask Javier to drive you home. You feared you might change your mind if you were around him a second longer.

-

Javier never saw you after that. It was partially serendipitous and partially out of effort. 

When he returned home on winter break or for Thanksgiving, he contained himself to Chucho’s house, or he’d see one or two friends he still had. That was about it. If he knew you weren’t in town, he’d go out and have a good time. It would all go downhill if you were there, and he knew it, so he resigned himself to long nights with his father. 

You wanted to see him again. You drove past his house many times when you were home from New York, seeing the light on in his old room again. Every time, you stopped just a little longer than you should have at the stop sign yards from his house. You contemplated pulling into the driveway and begging him to take you back. It never happened. 

Once or twice, you even caught a glimpse of dark-chocolate hair through the front windows of the house. It made your heart stop and your eyes tear up. 

You moved out of town when you graduated. You started a career near your college, far from your hometown that was almost considered Laredo. Your wish was fulfilled. 

Javier’s was too- well, only partially. He stayed in Laredo. He worked in law enforcement there for a while before he got picked to work with the DEA. It didn’t matter what kind of job he got. He didn’t have you, and that made him miserable. 

You’d been the one to save him. Now he didn’t even know if you still had the same last name you did when he slipped his class ring onto your finger, when he murmured your full name and promised one day that he’d get you a gorgeous ruby and diamond band instead of that class ring and he’d change that last name to Peña. 

-

Javier got a new truck recently. It’s nice. The first car he ever bought that wasn’t used, actually. It’s a deep red, the same color of his first car. Ruby, he named it. 

He thinks about you all the goddamn time. Nothing could change that, not time or hookups. He sighs as he thinks about the years since you’ve seen him, while he drives around in the pouring rain. Why? How?

He never slept around in college, too lovesick and still hoping you’d call and want to meet with him, would want to rekindle what you’d had. 

He forced himself to get moving after that. He had a few girlfriends when he worked for the Webb County Sheriff's Office. He even got serious with one. 

Lorraine was beautiful and kind and funny. He loved the way she’d shotgun a beer and then kiss him, her lips tasting of the fermented liquid. She was a good time, a great partier. He asked her out and things went well, he supposed. 

She wanted different things from Javier. He’d been starting to grow restless, wanting to leave Laredo. Lorraine, however, wanted to settle down. She wanted the whole thing: a big ranch-style, a fireplace in the living room, four or five babies with Javier’s brown eyes, running around and laughing. 

As much as he wanted it, he couldn’t. He nodded along and played the game, telling her that he’d do that for her. He’d provide for her and give her all the kids he wanted. He’d be a good father and a great husband and everything would be good. 

It was more to himself that he said those things. He wanted to believe they were true, really, but he had the feeling you’d had years ago. He wanted her, wanted such a calming life, but at the same time, he didn’t want it. He wanted to get out and do things and feared being fenced in. 

He proposed to Lorraine. Got her a nice diamond ring and everything. She’d cried and kissed him and he’d forced himself to smile but it wasn’t genuine. At least she didn’t know that. 

The wedding was planned. It was going to be a grand affair for the town, nearly everyone invited. Everyone was like family to the members of the town. Lorraine got an expensive, fluffy white dress and Javier bought a tuxedo. 

The ceremony was supposed to start at 5:00. Everyone sat patiently as the clock ticked past it. They didn’t know a thing. They didn’t know Lorraine was pacing the church basement, her heart clenched in fear. No one had seen Javier. Not even the groomsmen. 

Then it became 5:10, 5:30. At 5:45, Lorraine’s mother began to quietly tell the church that the ceremony wouldn’t be happening today. The disgruntled attendees left, wondering what happened. 

Javier had ran. He drove out of Laredo, straight for Dallas. He wanted out. He’d left early in the morning, not even saying goodbye to his father. He was already on a plane to Washington D.C. when the bride realized she was no longer getting married today. 

He got a job working for the DEA. They’d offered him one a few months ago, but he’d declined. He wanted to stay in Laredo with Lorraine, he’d bluffed. Things hit the fan when he began training for the new job. 

He fucked every woman in sight. He didn’t care who they were: if they wanted him, he wanted them. He never stopped smoking, developed a love and almost dependence on whiskey. When he went to Colombia, he paid for his first ever escort. 

It was what he deserved, he told himself. The one woman he’d ever loved left him. He had left the one person who ever gave a shit about him. Ruined her life and left her with a sense of anxiety whenever she was in that church’s basement as she remembered. 

He doesn’t deserve attachment. He doesn’t deserve someone caring for him. That’s why he sleeps around. That’s why he’s left so many lovers in the dust. 

Stop thinking about that, Javier tells himself. He whips a U-turn, opening the window and hanging a hand out of it. It forces himself to return to reality, to get out of his goddamn head and to not crash this new truck. The rain pelts his skin and he frowns. It never rains around Laredo, and it’s the one night he’s in town. 

He pulls into the old drive-in restaurant, thinking back to the happy days. He can still see your baby-faced grin as you skated over to him, long legs pushing you along. He could nearly taste the strawberry milkshake on his tongue. It’s closed for the night, since it’s in the early hours of the morning now. 

He jumps as a car pulls into the spot next to him. He looks down, knowing that whoever it is will likely recognize him. Everyone recognizes him around here. He’s not in the mood to talk.

“They’re closed,” a voice calls out from the other car, and Javier’s heart stops. He’d know that voice anywhere, even if it spoke a different language. 

He looks up and his eyes meet yours for the first time in twenty years. They’re still just as beautiful, still glimmering. “Peñita,” you breathe out as it clicks in your mind. 

He’s aged beautifully. His dark hair is neatly pushed back, though it’s a little shorter than he used to keep it. His face has lines now, heavy from the stress of his job. His eyes look weary and tired. 

You get out of your car. Javier does the same. You look at him, standing there, with a new truck that’s the same color of his very first piece of shit pickup. “Nice truck,” you comment. 

He smiles softly. “Thanks. It’s new.”

You walk around the front of your car, eyes wide in disbelief. There’s hurt on his face and you know you’re the cause of it. “Javier… I missed you.”

He looks down at you, now standing right in front of him. “I missed you more.”

You throw your arms around him and hug him tight. Your eyes water with tears as you squeeze him, wishing this moment would never end. He hugs you back, those arms still strong and protective. 

He presses a soft kiss to your head. He mutters his nickname for you quietly. His voice is different now, huskier and deeper. It’s a beautiful sound. His lips are buried in your hair but you can hear it all the same. “Princesa.”

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic

[thran-duils]

Was Ich Liebe (P.3, Final)

Title: Was Ich Liebe (Part Three, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Tony Stark.  Tony becomes enamored with a stripper at a club his hedonistic friend Thor owns. A casual sexual relationship quickly becomes possessive and the reader sees more of the underground mafia life than she would like to. The cherry on top is that Tony is married and so is she. Him to a woman who has no intention of losing her throne at any cost and the reader to a deadbeat alcoholic. Feeling trapped by both her previous life and the suffocating hold Tony is trying to put on her, the reader steals away in the night, which is not going to go over well. Words: 4,647 Warnings (for whole fic, more may be added): Dub-con, smut, infidelity, stripping, vaginal fingering, public sex, possessive behavior, angst, degradation kink, violence, physical abuse, domestic violence, language, drug use, alcoholism, death Warnings for this chapter: Mention of abortion! Author’s Note: As usual, this is 18+.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Tony was calling. He must have gone to the apartment and found you gone by now, especially since you had not been answering him via text or by phone. You sent him to voicemail letting your music start again. You had rented a car to drive away from the city.

The jewelry he had given you came in handy to get cash that you were using for gas and hopefully a down payment on an apartment somewhere. Stripping joints were abundant, and you were sure if you found a sizable city, you would find work without an issue. You were thinking about Milwaukee. It was far enough away from NYC and there was a college there too.

Your phone beeped with another voicemail from him. Signing, against your better judgment, you reached forward to press play, it coming over the car’s speakers.

He was pissed. Unsurprisingly. He had been tight on the last one he had left, wound up that you were not answering him. But this was a whole different level. He was practically shouting.

“This better be a goddamn joke, Y/N. My patience is already up with it though. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you had snuck out? Where the fuck is all the jewelry? Huh? Your clothes? If I find out you left and you’re cheating on me, I’m gonna kill them.”

You did not doubt him when he said that. And he confirmed he was at the apartment if he noticed your stuff was gone.

“And were you planning on telling me about the pregnancy?” Your eyes widened and then you swore remembering you had not emptied the trash in the bathroom. “Or were you just gonna keep that to yourself? Listen very carefully to me, if you do something drastic, I’m not gonna be nice about it. Not in the fucking slightest. You best believe that and take that to heart! Don’t be fucking stupid! Call. Me. Back.”

The voicemail ended.

Yes. The pregnancy. You were already thinking about which office you could go to. You had left a note for Thor about quitting and you wondered how quickly your health insurance was going to stay in place. Before after leaving a job, it had stayed on until the end of the month, but you were unsure, and you were not about to call him and ask. An appointment at a clinic though, that was something you needed to deal with quickly. You were sure there was a facility you could find when you got yourself established.

<><><>

“You’re a psychopath,” Carol said to Tony, smirking.

She was watching him put up security cameras around Y/N’s apartment, hidden from the normal eye with his technology. And when he had taken the lock apart on her door to install tech he could control himself from his cell, she had shook her head.

“I prefer creative,” Tony responded, as he tested it out. It worked perfectly. “Little bitch isn’t going to be leaving without trying extra hard.”

<><><>

You found a hotel in Columbus. You made sure to put a chair underneath the door handle on top of using both locks. It was scary to be traveling alone. And especially when you did not know the area.

The next morning, you woke up to another voicemail from Tony. You had reached over to silence it while you were sleeping, knowing damn well who would be calling you at 2:30am.

He sounded sloshed.

“Do you remember me telling you I was never going to let you go? Cause I said it multiple times. That hasn’t changed, Y/N. It’s been almost 24 hours since you answered to me!” Slip up there with that ‘to’ added in. “It’s really fucking frustrating, and you know goddamn well I don’t like being frustrated. It’s…you’re being disrespectful!” There was a slight pause and you heard him take a drink. He let out a humorless laugh. “You won’t run away from me. I’m going to find you.”

He hung up.

Hearing how mad he was, your stomach was twisting. He was not a man that liked to be thwarted or feel like he was being disrespected. Not to mention that he was a fucking mafia member. If he got his hands back on you, he was not going to be kind. And the time he told you he would never hurt you would be tested, you worried.

Why did you let yourself get so far involved with such a dangerous, jealous man? Again?

Forcing yourself to get up from the bed, you went to take a shower to try to relax in the hot water. Afterward, you walked across the street to the coffee shop. You wanted to get on the road again to put some more distance between you and NYC and ultimately between you and him.

<><><>

You drove around the edge of UW-Milwaukee, stealing glances at the campus. A city like this with a college surely had good clientele for the clubs.

Pulling over and parking, you opened your phone beginning to search for an apartment and a job. There had to be an abundance of apartments available around the college since it was summer and a class had just graduated.

<><><>

He kept calling and kept calling. He was not going to stop. It had been two weeks. You had been trying to convince yourself to answer him and tell him to leave you alone and that it was over. You thought about changing your number and you would, but after the conversation you needed to have.

Piqued, you answered, “Tony, I’m busy—"

“Oh, you’re busy? So busy you couldn’t fucking answer me? Over the last two weeks, you’ve been ‘busy’. Too busy for me? That’s hilarious! You should have your own fucking stand up show.” His tone was dripping with condescension.

Sighing, you said, “I’m getting ready for work! This needs to be quick.”

“Work?” Tony chuckled darkly. “Now you care about work? You fucked Thor over by quitting on the spot. How were you even able to get a reference?”

“I danced. That was reference enough.”

“Of course you did. Of course you’re stripping. Where are you?”

“I’m not going to tell you, Tony!”

“Y/N, baby,” he started, sounding like it was taking everything in him to keep his voice even. “If you just apologize and tell me where you are or just come back, I’ll be able to let this go easier. You can come back to me, and it’ll all be okay.”

You mustered out a strong, “No! I am not going to do that.”

His leash was back off. “Why are we playing this stupid game, Y/N? I can handle you being bratty — cause I love fucking it out of you — but this is really pushing me over the edge!”

“I’m not being a brat! You were suffocating me!”

“Suffocating you? I worship you!” He was so easily able to confuse his possession with love. He continued on irritated, “I shower you with gifts! I make sure you’re well taken care of! I’ve treated you better than anyone else has! And you’re coming at me like this? What is your fucking problem, Y/N? What? Is being on the phone instead of in person giving you some fake confidence? Don’t think I’m not keeping track of this ungrateful bullshit just because you’re not standing in front of me!”

He was quickly losing his temper. You had never made him this mad, had never pushed back.

You were shaking as you tried to stand up for yourself, “I’m not the one with a problem! I didn’t force you to move anywhere or—"

Tony interrupted you furiously. “Do you understand how much that apartment cost? How much that car cost? You barely drove it!”

Frustrated he was steam rolling you as usual. you said fighting to keep tears back, “Sell it then!”

“If that was supposed to be a joke, it was an awful one. This shit isn’t fucking funny, Y/N! When I find out where you are, I’m gonna drag you back by your goddamn hair!”

“Good luck!” you spat, it slipping out before you really thought about it. Your eyes widened at what you had just done, and you quickly hung up as he started to snarl something back.

He was immediately calling you back and you sent him to voicemail again.

<><><>

Tony let out an aggravated shout, throwing his phone down on the desk when she did not answer him back.

Good luck was right.

She had stayed on the line long enough to give him time to trace her down to the general area. Milwaukee. Near the university. He would find her, and he was gonna find her quick with getting eyes on the ground to spot her leaving her place wherever that was in the area. And she was not going to like it when he came knocking to collect her.

<><><>

The bag from the closest grocery store was heavy with groceries for the week. You had returned the rental car when you signed your lease, able to use the bus system until you bought your own car.

You noticed there was a man watching you across the street and you slowed in your pace, narrowing your eyes. He did not look away and you swallowed sharply before resuming your pace. You felt like you could still feel his eyes on the back of your head. You had felt like there had been eyes on you earlier this morning too. A foreboding feeling was creeping; you wanted to get inside and quick.

Entering your apartment, you kicked the door closed and struggled to lock it immediately. The bag crunched as you walked over to the kitchen and placed it on the counter.

You put the few groceries away and walked around the counter, tearing your shirt off and tossing it on the back of one of your chairs. It was hot since you were on the third floor and you had not been able to buy an air conditioner yet.

“This place is a shithole.”

You screamed, startled at the voice, whipping around, your eyes searching wildly.

Tony was sitting in the end of your bed in your room.

He had surprisingly not called you for the last few days, not after the conversation the two of you had. Not hearing from him had set you on edge just as much as him calling you did. You knew he was not going to give up easily and the silence was a trap if you fell into it thinking that it was done.

Your eyes flicked to the door, and he chastised you in low, dangerous tones, “Y/N, you’re already in enough trouble. Don’t make this worse for yourself. Carols outside. So is Rhodey. And a handful of other people I brought along in case you were gonna cause more trouble.”

The man outside. So, you had been being watched.

Tony stood up from the bed and came out of the bedroom, and up to you. You took a few steps back and he tsked you. You stopped immediately, knowing what he wanted. He closed the rest of the space and raked his eyes up and down you.

“Why did you have to go and cause trouble in the first place? You think I was suffocating you? That’ll seem like a cakewalk compared to when you come back with me. See, we’ve lost trust. I can’t have you running around when you know as much as you do. And you running off looks like you were going to squeal.” You opened your mouth to protest but he rose his voice, shutting you up. “And I can’t have that. Not when I have other people to answer to on the team. I will not be the weak link in the chain, which means you are not going to be running off in the middle of the night. Even if it’s not what you planned to do, it looks bad.”

His hands came to rest on your biceps, squeezing in tight, causing you to flinch slightly. His eyes were hard. “You could have had the world and you threw it away.” His thumbs caressed, his tongue slipping between his lips. “But I can be a forgiving man if you make me believe that you’re sorry. Just do that for me, beg for forgiveness, and I’ll take care of you and that baby.”

You gulped at the mention of the baby, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed. He leaned in, searching your face and you looked away, but he forced you to look back at him, his hand holding your jaw tight.

“Y/N, baby… you got something to tell me?”

You were silent, your heart starting to hammer.

“Y/N, you know I don’t like repeating myself.”

His grip tightened and you felt tears pricking, apprehensive of how he was going to react.

Your voice warbled, “I…I had an abortion.”

Tony was frozen, his eyes wide and incendiary. His grip on your jaw loosened and you took a step back away from him. His jaw clicked, eyes not leaving you. You saw he was going to explode.

Raising your hand shakily, as if that was going to hold him off, you started, “Now, Tony—"

His backhand sent you stumbling. He caught you before you could do it yourself and slammed you up against the wall.

“You’re lucky I didn’t cold clock you!” He snarled, his fingers digging in painfully to your arms.

“Tony, don’t—”

“Don’t? Don’t what? Be fucking furious that I told you not to do anything drastic and then you went and did just that? Without even consulting me? I have a goddamn right to be furious! How fucking dare you!”

You were sniffling now, terrified.

He gave you a rough shake before demanding, “What’s the lease on this place?” You took too long to answer. “Answer me!”

“Month to month,” you whimpered.

“Smart. Makes this easier.” His nose was practically brushing yours. “Look, you’re gonna be good and listen to me about exactly what is going to happen—"

“You can’t—"

“Did I tell you that you could talk? No! I told you you were going to listen. Keep your fucking mouth shut!” Tony lashed out. You closed your mouth, your lip warbling. “You’re coming with me. And I haven’t decided yet if I want them all to listen to you beg for forgiveness on the plane or if I’m waiting until we are alone. Not doing it here. Don’t wanna alarm your neighbors and have to injure any of them if they try to interfere. I don’t want, nor need that type of mess.”

He shoved you as he let you go, and you wiped at your eyes.

“I can’t fucking believe you. Can’t even follow simple goddamn directions. What are you? A child?” he snorted angrily. He snapped his fingers at you and pointed at your room. “Get your shit. We are leaving and going home. The jets at the airport.”

<><><>

He had not punished you on the plane. You instead had sat, curled in as tightly as you could to yourself in the chair across from him under a blanket, looking out the window as much as possible. You felt him watching you intensely the whole two hours. You could only imagine the deranged ideas going through his head about what he was going to do to you when he got you alone.

The moment you stepped into your apartment, he ordered you, “Get yourself done up. I want you to look nice for me. I’ll be out here watching the game.”

His goons brought in your suitcases and put them next to the kitchen table before leaving at his order. Tony grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. He saw you were still standing there, and he glared.

“Y/N…” he said dangerously. “I don’t see you moving.”

You grabbed your suitcase with your clothes and trudged down the hall, feeling his hard stare at your back until you disappeared into the bedroom. You had left a lot of your clothes here but there was a dress you had brought with you, one that he liked specifically. Which shocked you a little bit because it was loose and free; still short though.

Taking the time to shower, blow dry, do your makeup, and dress, you felt the anxiety rising about what he was going to do. You thought the extra time would calm you down, but it was doing the opposite because it was giving you more time to think.

When you walked back down the hall, your black wedges announcing your arrival, Tony looked over the back of the couch. You saw the bottle on the coffee table. He had been drinking, not a surprise. He gestured you over and you walked around the couch, coming over to him. He ran his eyes up and down you, taking you in.

“Well, don’t you look just perfect?” he asked, an edge underlying his tone.

He stood up from the couch and you stayed still. He pulled his phone out and took a picture of you without giving you time to prepare. He turned his phone around and you looked dumbstruck in the photo.

But he complimented, “Look at that. Pristine. That’s what good girls look like.” A cruel smile flashed across his features, and he tossed his phone down on the couch. “But you’re not a good girl are you, baby?”

You only had a moment to react before he was forcing you down to your knees. You hissed in pain as your knees slammed against the hardwood.

“You brought this on yourself. You think I like punishing you?” Tony asked, working on his belt with one hand as the other held you by the back of the neck. Your hands came up to grip his thighs, pressing back against the hold he had on your neck. “Ah ah, stay where you are.” He stroked himself with purpose, his hand moving at a steady pace. “Look at you. A pretty little slut that needs to be taught a lesson.”

He was hard now, the head of his cock pressing against your lips.

“Open your damn mouth!” You clenched your teeth, knowing he was gonna be rough and not wanting to choke. He let go of you to slap your cheek and sneered, “Don’t make me ask you again!”

You opened your mouth reluctantly, and he grabbed you by the back of your neck again and shoved his dick in all the way, your nose brushing his pubes. You gagged before he pulled back out, running his head around your lips. He groaned at the sight, slipping back in and using your mouth.

“Tell me you love me!”

“I love you!” you got out around his width.

“Look at me!” You forced your gaze up to meet his and he thrusted faster, hitting the back of your throat. Your hands gripped tight onto his thighs, eyes begging for him to slow down. But he was not relenting, and your throat was aching. Another groan left his lips as he demanded, “Tell me you love me, you little bitch.”

It was hard to say it, you choking now, tears stinging your eyes. “I love you!”

He pulled away roughly, his hand wrapped around your hair tightly, keeping you in place. Your saliva was stringing messily between him and your lips. Your chin as well as his pubes were glistening with your drool. You gasped for air, thankful for the reprieve from your jaw aching from being open so wide.

The reprieve was short lived though and you cried out in pain as he began walking, dragging you by your hair.

“Forgive me that I don’t quite believe you. But I’m gonna make sure I do believe you. I’m gonna get a genuine one out of you before I’m through.”

Tony sat on the edge of the bed and held you tight. “Give me a show. Take that dress off and let me see you. Let me see what I’m going to take.”

Shakily, you stood up as his grip laxed and he was watching you like a hawk. You wiped at your lips, knowing there was little to do about your eye makeup since he had made tears come with how hard he had been choking you. You started to sway your hips, trying to find a rhythm amongst the excitement. You turned away from him so he could not see your face as you struggled to calm down enough to dance.

It was sloppy, unconfident. But that did not seem to bother him. He pulled you into his lip and his hands slipped up your dress and into your underwear.

“Don’t get to tell me now that I can’t touch,” he husked against your cheek, his fingers slipping into your pussy. “All mine.”

He was stroking you, getting you worked up, making you lose focus on grinding. You bit your bottom lip, a strangled moan escaping.

Tony chuckled, nuzzling your cheek. “I know you like that. Gonna get you good and wet for me, sweetheart. Spread your legs further.”

You were falling so easily into his touch, your core wanting more. You were getting wound up and he was loving it. He worked quicker, his breath heavy as he felt how aroused you were, wetting his fingers.

“Maybe you are a good girl. Look how well you are behaving for me. Is this you apologizing?” He pulled away just to lay a hard smack on your cunt. You bucked, crying out and he did it again. You whimpered as his fingers entered again, focusing on your bud. “You’re a needy little slut, aren’t you baby?” You nodded and he sucked at your neck. “You’re repenting so well… but you’ve got a long way to fucking go.”

You were so close, but he suddenly shoved you away roughly, causing you to stumble in your heels.

“Strip.”

You did as he asked, pulling the dress up and tossing it behind you, leaving you in just your underwear. He rose his brows expectantly and you turned around, bending over slowly. You pulled your underwear down, feeling how wet they were at the crotch. You heard him hum at the sight of them and your glistening pussy. They fell to your ankles, and you turned around, kicking them off.

Tony stood up and pointed at the bed. “On your stomach.” You did as he asked and heard him getting undressed. You peeked over your shoulder at him undoing his tie as he walked towards your closet. He emerged again with a scarf, his eyes fixated on you. “Did I tell you you could look at me?” You turned back around quickly, butterflies swarming.

He grabbed one of your ankles and yanked you down the bed. You felt his tie around your ankle, and you tensed as he tied you to the bed frame. He was at your opposite ankle and tied your other leg with your scarf tightly.

“Tony…” you said hoarsely.

He did not answer you and you laid there, spread wide. The bed creaked with his weight and his thick thighs straddled you, holding you even tighter in place. You felt him pressing in and your fingers dug into your quilt. Each inch filled you up more and he exhaled as he reached his base.

“That’s the gentlest thrust you’re going to get, sweetheart. Enjoy it.”

Tony was not lying; he was pounding you into the mattress and you were not being quiet about the intrusion. You were already so wet, and he was adding to the sensation the way he was working you.

“You’re gonna remember who you loves you the most,” he groaned. The bed was shaking with how hard he was driving into you. “You’re gonna remember to behave!”

Pulling out of you, he smacked you hard against your ass. “Get up on your knees. Now!”

You obeyed, maneuvering with the restraints and his fingers replaced his dick, rubbing your clit. You keened, your back arching at the intense contact. You were ashamed that as usual you fell to the arousal, letting him take you over completely even when he was being as mean as he was.

“Fuck, you little whore. Look at you. So needy for cock. Why did you leave me in the first place? You were never going to find anyone that would love you like I do. You hurt my feelings, baby. And I don’t like having my feelings hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasped without any prompting.

Tony’s fingers fell from your sex, and he was up, holding you by the throat. His breath was hot on your ear. “I might just leave you here on the bed right now. Tie those delicate wrists up too. Keep you on display for me. I’ll just walk by and see you stuck here, just dependent on me to come back to release you.”

You shook your head, begging pathetically, “No, p-please.”

“You want me to finish?”

“Yes!”

“Do you deserve it? Cause I don’t think you fucking do.”

You shook your head, “No. I don’t. But, please!” He brushed your pussy lightly with his fingers, teasing and you broke down even further. “I love you! I love you! Please!”

“You’re not gonna leave me again.” It was a statement, not a question.

You shook your head furiously again, gasping, “No! No, I won’t leave you!”

He yanked you up painfully by your hair again and new tears stung your eyes.

“I’m gonna make fucking sure of it. You’re gonna be on house arrest until I see fit to let you out! Face down,” Tony snarled, pushing you roughly down by the shoulders. He was behind you again. “You’re gonna be full of my seed when I’m done.”

Your chest hit the bed as the room filled with skin slapping skin loudly as he ravaged you. It did not take long for your body to tense up and a shriek left you as your pussy clenched around him. Tony’s breath was erratic as his pace lost control, his fingers digging into your hips. Broken husks were falling from his mouth, you could not make it out over the buzz in your ears. You felt the warmth though when he filled you up, his cock buried deep. He was making sure it was up against your cervix. His groan was long and loud, his hands squeezing your ass tight.

When he pulled away, you laid out flat, feeling worn. You heard him leave the room, the hardwood in the hall creaking with his footfalls. Your body was covered in sweat, heavy pants leaving your lips. For a moment, you forgot you were tied and tried to adjust and let out a sigh of disappointment when you felt the tug of the restraint on your ankle.

Tony was back with his phone. He cooed, “Oh, sweetheart. You’re so tired. Look up at me.” You lifted your head and saw him snap a picture of you. His lips curled into a smirk at the photo, and he turned it around to show you. Your makeup was ruined, tear trails on your cheeks, mascara and eyeliner smudged. You looked like a mess.

“Look at this lovely sight,” he purred. He flipped to the last photo of you looking made up and then back again. “Look how dirty you got pleasing me compared to before. I’m going to keep these.” A malicious glint flashed in his eyes, and he said, “I’ll give you a few to recover. But baby, there’s gonna be round two and no, I’m not going to let you clean up. Let’s see how much dirtier I can get you.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

Fic tags: @buttercandy16

[aizawaslovebot]

NOW PLAYING: the ex factor by iwaizumi hajime

—reader pronouns: he/him

—warnings: curse words ; slight implied violence

—summary: desperate times mean desperate measures, and y/n is definitely the embodiment of desperate. eager to make his ex jealous for reasons undisclosed, (read as: he's just petty), he asks his long-time best friend, iwaizumi hajime, to pretend as his boyfriend

—note: y'know how it always is, sorry for being late!!

TAGLIST: OPEN ; just send me an ask!! i don't mind you guys resending asks to be added ^^

@ohmygodronnie2020 @beyond-the-mxxn @clinomanians

<- the sweetheart playlist | part i | part ii | next song ->

The plan was simple, really.

Pretend to be boyfriends and find the bane of your existence so you could rub it in his face that he was much more disposable than he made you feel. Then you’d both get the hell out of there and go someplace you both actually enjoyed. It was easy to do, too. Pretending to be together was something you had done when one of the other had problems with strangers. Finding your ex was an easier task because all you had to look for is where there was an influx of vulnerable girls.

Apparently, this plan was simple only in theory.

Realistically speaking, as you and Iwa fail to wade through the many drunk people flailing their limbs and calling it dancing, finding your ex was not an easy task.

The other part of the plan was also much more difficult than either of you expected too. Pretending was not easy. It was not easy when either of you couldn’t ignore the beating of your hearts at close contact. It was not easy when everyone readily acknowledged that you were together; that it was normal for Iwaizumi Hajime and Y/N L/N to be together. It was not easy when pretending reminded both of you that this was fake and that reality will sink in much sooner than the way next week came.

“Finally!” Someone would say, “We’ve been waiting for you two to get together!” Then a drunk acquaintance would add, “I thought you were together this whole time!”

So, sure, making it seem like you two were together was easy. But pretending— oh dear lord, just pretending— was what made it difficult. It had become apparent to both of you, without the other knowing, that just pretending hurt so much.

“Just how much did everyone drink? I heard the party started an hour ago,” You sigh, cringing when you see the class valedictorian puking her guts out by the plant.

Iwa snorts as he fixes his grip on your waist, “Just let the bunch of idiots let loose. The sem ended after all, puddin’.” Only a mere squeak comes out of your mouth because of the way his soft lips neared your ears.

God damn. Was it really necessary to gay panic in the middle of a mission?

With no answer to the hypothetical question in your head, you decided to let the energy die out a little before you commence part two of the plan. You and Iwa find solace in the comfort of an unoccupied booth but you couldn’t sit still at all.

The thought of being close to Iwa tonight felt different. It made you giddy and nervous and flustered and anxious all at once. It was like having to hold your breath and close your eyes to prepare for the “big thing” to happen. And you were too scared to find out what the “big thing” was for you so, despite much reluctance, you said, “I’m gonna get a drink, Zumi.”

You hastily got out of the booth and made a beeline for the kitchen to look for any drink that was sealed or canned. As much as you wanted the confidence that being intoxicated gives you, you’d rather not be embarrassingly drunk while facing your ex. In your quest to find something safe to drink in a college party, your acquaintances strike up a conversation.

“So, you and Iwaizumi, huh?” The aforementioned drunk class valedictorian asked, surprisingly still able to make a conversation despite feeling unwell just a few moments ago. “Been a long time coming,” she continued when you nodded, “You two are made for each other, y’know?”

You two hear a sigh from Claire’s, the drunkard valedictorian, friend beside her. “How romantic… I still remember how the whole ‘pudding’ nickname started. We honestly thought you’ve been dating ever since then.”

Claire looks at you questioningly, as if mentally asking you to relay the story to her because she was probably piss drunk when it happened; I mean, she’s still drunk right now but she was far worse back then.

You give in before they start to get the idea of gathering more and more people to make you tell the story. “It’s a weird story though,” You warn, but judging by the way they still urged you on, you could continue. “There was a time in our first year when we had this party, right? By then, Iwa and I were, at most, acquaintances if not just roommates.”

“I didn’t know how to like, interact with him because I found him so intimidating,” You smiled faintly, causing the two girls to look at each other quickly. “Anyway, everyone got challenged to eat as many diet pudding cups as we could possibly eat— which was quite unhealthy considering we’re studying to become trainers.”

Claire’s friend snorts, reminiscing the day when your class bought out all the diet pudding cups available in the nearest convenience stores for a stupid game.

“I got really competitive about it to the point where only Iwa and I remained. Neither of us wanted to back down but everyone got concerned about the amount we ate so we were both crowned diet pudding cup champions”

They giggle at the odd story but let you continue. “We started calling each other ‘diet pudding cup champion’ after that but it was honestly a mouthful to say so somewhere down the line, it got shortened to ‘pudding’.”

“Which is why we thought you two were a thing but you dated that asshole ex of yours and left us stumped,” Claire downs another bottle, “You didn’t even look comfortable with that ex and you two were never compatible, honestly. But all is well now! I wish I had love like yours…”

Claire’s friend rolls her eyes when the valedictorian starts crying, mumbling how cute you and Iwa were and that the entire class should be invited to your wedding. Claire then cries out how soft you two are for each other. “Sorry for her nonsense,” Claire’s friend sighs, “Anyway, we shouldn’t keep you for long… You should go back to your boyfriend.”

You wave slowly as they leave you to yourself and your thoughts. Was that really how people thought? That Iwa and you were a much better match? Would you have been far happier if Iwaizumi Hajime, your long-time best friend, was your boyfriend instead?

Speaking of your ‘boyfriend’...

Iwaizumi was thankful you decided to part for a while. Had there not been distance between you two at that moment, he wasn’t sure what mistake he would’ve made. He was too scared to risk everything and find out too. Patiently, while rejecting the class drunkards who wanted to dance or drown in booze with him, Iwa waits for your return.

Iwaizumi Hajime was hopelessly, irretrievably in love with you. You were his idiot, his contradiction, his pudding, his everything, and sadly, just his best friend. How much did the universe have to hate him to bind you two to simply being best friends? How much did the universe have to hate him to let Iwaizumi Hajime get a taste of what could’ve been and deprive him of what would be? Why, of all people, did it have to be Iwaizumi Hajime who had to go through the turmoil of falling for his best friend?

Far too many questions have formed in his head but Iwaizumi persists. He still had to help you after all. So Iwa waits and waits and waits for your return while simultaneously having to deal with his realization and the universe’s hatred.

And the universe might have hated him more than it let on.

Y’know what they say when you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for specifically because you’re looking for it? How you should let time pass and that thing will magically pop up when you don’t need it?

It happened.

In front of Iwaizumi stood the very person they planned to spite that night, the very person who decided it was fun to toy with your heart, and the very person who Iwaizumi loathed to the very core: Akuma Azamuku.

While you were questioning your “what could be” with your pretend boyfriend, Iwaizumi was busy facing your bastard ex.

“I heard you two are together now,” The poor excuse of a man started, standing confidently as if he didn’t have women in his arms, “Kind of a fast development, don’t ‘ya think?”

Iwaizumi almost pulverized your ex to the ground at that statement. What a hypocrite. What a stupid guy. What a terrible person. To imply that you were the one who cheated when the God forsaken ex was the one who manipulated you into this chaos.

“Fast development? What do you call yours then?” He challenged, eyebrows raised unamused at your ex.

“I’m not here to argue with you,” Akuma rolled his eyes rather condescendingly, “He never had eyes for me anyway. The same way I never liked him one bit.”

Iwaizumi’s fingers twitched; they itched to close the distance between Akuma’s face and Iwa’s fist. You never liked him? What utter bullshit. You spent most of your days walking on eggshells to please the goddamn piece of shit and he tells him that you never liked your ex? He tells Iwa that he never liked you?

Sadly, Akuma took his silence as a sign to continue. Bad choice on his part, really.

“He has always liked you though, hasn’t he? You always had to be the man of the hour in Y/N’s eyes when he and I were together. The son of a bi—”

Then fist connected to face faster than anyone could have comprehended. Iwaizumi never liked your ex and his fists figured it was time to convey what he had been internalizing this whole time.

“You don’t get to talk that way. Not when it was you who two-timed him from the start,” Iwaizumi’s voice took a menacing tone. This was, by far, the scariest he had been: he wasn’t spouting off in anger, his voice sounded hushed, but it was obvious that there would be carnage.

“Y’know,” Iwaizumi started, slowly walking up to Akuma who was keeling over in pain, “I didn’t even hear the news from Y/N.”

“He wanted to hide that you cheated on him from me because even if he didn’t want to beat the shit out of you physically, he knew that I would.” Iwaizumi sat slowly to look at your ex eye-to-eye, death seen in his, “And he knows me so well.”

The girls in your ex’s arms were long gone. All that was left to face the wrath of Iwaizumi Hajime was the poor excuse of a man who manipulated you, hurt you, and used you. Your ex wasn’t going to go out of this party unscathed and everyone in their radar knew. Before his right knuckle could find its way to Akuma’s fear-stricken face, however, you had arrived.

“Stop it, Hajime.”

The aforementioned male sighed, relaxed his posture, and complied. Iwaizumi walks towards you as his anger slowly dissipates. As much as Iwa wanted to do so much more to your ex, he’d rather not anger nor disappoint you. It was you who was involved in the chaos after all, not him. Iwa was there to back you up and if it meant that he had to restrain himself from getting revenge for your sake, he would do it. He would do anything for you.

Akuma visibly relaxed too, assuming that you stopped Iwaizumi because you wanted to save your ex. He got so cocky at your presence to the point that he thought it was a good idea to utter the words “Just a guard dog, eh?” when you and Iwa started to walk away.

You retaliated at the speed of light, snarling as you threw a heavy punch to your ex’s disgusting face and successfully knocked the living daylights out of the spawn of Satan. Shocking everyone speechless, you looked your ex dead in the eyes and before leaving, you muttered, “Go to hell.”

Whether the mission was successful or not, neither you nor Iwa could tell. Yes, you were able to fool your ex and the entire class that you were together. Yes, you did make your ex feel jealous. So why did it feel so incomplete? Why did it feel as if you had more to resolve than you first did?

That was it? Is this the end of your faux relationship then?

The walk to your shared dorm was silent; the air heavy from what occurred just a few moments ago. With more questions than answers, you two had no choice but to retreat to the comfort of your shared living space.

While you went straight to your room to change, Iwa does what he does best when the atmosphere isn’t as light as either of you liked. He goes to the kitchen, gets a flurry of unhealthy junk foods that you two, as health practitioners in the making, ironically had, and prepares the living room for your impromptu Godzilla marathon.

This is how it always had been, you muse as you hear him surf the TV for the movies, this is how you two always cheer yourselves up when you get into disagreements or when either of you haven’t had the best day. You will forever be grateful for the support that Iwa always had been because without him, you don’t know how you would’ve survived this gruelling journey of yours.

Iwaizumi will always be important to you. He was your pillar, your anchor, your partner in crime, your pudding. You find yourself smiling as you fix your— it was Iwa’s but it’s yours now— hoodie, deciding to leave out all negativity that you had experienced because at the end of the day, Iwa was still with you.

Iwaizumi Hajime was still with you.

You pause, moments away from opening your door to your Iwa, wondering why it made you feel so warm to know that Iwaizumi Hajime was still with you, is still with you, and will always be with you.

Then you realize it all along.

The reason why pretending hurt more than your breakup, why seeing him so readily into your revenge quest stirred something inside of you, and why you felt that it was far more important to have Iwaizumi Hajime by your side than your ex.

Iwaizumi Hajime is and will always be your everything.

And maybe that meant that you wanted him by your side not as someone who you call your best friend, but someone who you hoped would be yours.

Is that too much to ask for?

Too focused on your revelation of the century, you failed to realize that the one person who reigned in your pretty head was standing before you— concerned by the fact that you had taken too long in your room, only to find you frozen by your front door, quite oblivious of his presence.

“You good?” He whispers, tone nothing but gentle. Iwaizumi, the ever-gruff and brash athlete, had always been gentle to you, hadn’t he?

You’ve had too many thoughts about your longtime roommate and best friend that his one question left you speechless. Perhaps it was your body’s precautionary measure against you and the possibility of a flurry of your heart’s unspoken desire pouring themselves out readily for Iwaizumi Hajime.

You love him, you realize. You’d always be ready to do anything for him, you realize.

“Hey…” Iwaizumi tries again when the only thing you did in response was look at him. Then he nervously goes on a tangent because he wasn’t fond of your silence, you had always been the better talker between the two of you, but Iwaizumi would rather he embarrass himself than let you sleep the night feeling terrible.

“I have Godzilla on for a marathon and I know we swore off on diet pudding cups after the challenge, but I bought some yesterday to eat with you because it had been years, right? Maybe we could—”

“I like you.”

“— eat some while… What?”

It was Iwa’s turn to be speechless. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he was actually dreaming right now. You just said what?

“I like you,” You firmly repeated, far more serious than he’d ever seen you been. Iwaizumi stands frozen, unable to process what you had said; unable to fully grasp the thought of you liking him back; unable to get it in his head that the one person he had always cared about admitted to having feelings for him.

Iwaizumi Hajime had to be dreaming. That’s not what you said right? How could you ever possibly like him back?

“‘Like’ isn’t enough to convey how much adoration I hold for you, ‘Zumi. I care for you more than you could comprehend— more than the four letter word could hold so when I say I like you, Iwaizumi,” You mumble, nerves getting the best of you when your confession only received silence but you couldn’t stop yourself from finally admitting, “I mean I love you.”

With that final blow, Iwaizumi could finally affirm that you will be the death of him. You were his idiot, his contradiction, his pudding, and, with full confidence, he could finally say, his everything.

“Say something you idiot,” You whined out of pure embarrassment— too nervous to calm the loud beating of your heart as you witness Iwaizumi’s ears turn red— successfully bringing him out of his everlasting gay-panicking for you. Godzilla plays on in the background, reminding the both of you that the world will keep moving to tomorrow despite how slow time seemed for you two.

Iwaizumi tries to calm his nerves in the guise of sighing the way he always did when you did something that was contradictory to how things were for him. Smiling ever so softly at your scrunched up face trying its best to hide your trembles, he says:

“I like you too.”

“And when I say I like you, Y/N,” Iwaizumi immediately adds with a teasing smirk on his face, “I mean I love you.”

“Damn you idiot.”

[omake]

before either of you could even move from your place, your dorm's door bursts open with an annoyed oikawa waiting.

"i've been standing outside for 15 minutes with all my luggage because i wanted to surprise my best friends but this is the welcome i get?" oikawa growls as he chucks the multitude of suitcases that he brought, only then noticing the atmosphere.

oikawa feels daggers pointed at him when he meets iwaizumi's glare. "oh wait..." oikawa slowly realizes, the imaginary lightbulb on his head lighting up by the way you had been so embarrassed, "oops...?"

"kUSOKAWA!!!"

—reblogging helps, thank you!!

[carolmaximoffs]

teacher’s pet

summary: ransom gets a tutor per his parents meddling, lest his family pull all financial support. 

pairings: college! ransom drysdale x virgin! reader

warnings: cussing, dirty talk, sort-of public sex (fingering... in a library...i’m sorry), reference to drinking, brief brief mention of hookup! (not w reader), loss of virginity, oral (f! receiving) uhh it’s filth alright it’s innocent reader and ransom drysdale what did you expect

UNPROTECTED SEX BUT THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION SO PLEASE WRAP IT UP

a/n: per request by someone who’s no longer on tumblr, but i wanted to finish SOMETHING in my drafts. (i started this in...gosh, august? it’s way overdue)

You’ve got to be kidding me, is the first thought to bounce across Ransom’s brain when he walks into the library that evening in January. It’s practically deserted, except for one occupant of a back table. You’re huddled over laptop, doesn’t even notice him walk in. He studies you from the doorway for a moment.

His second thought is, she’s kind of cute. He pushes that far, far away and all but stomps over to the table. You look up with a start when he clears his throat, sliding out the chair across from you and dropping his bag unceremoniously onto the table.

“Lets get this straight,” Ransom declares, folding his hands together into one fist and tucking them under his chin. It’s a move his mother had pulled in many ‘I’m-not-trying-to-control-your-life-but’ conversations. She usually paired it with an exasperated and slightly pouty look meant to guilt him into seeing things her way. He pairs it with a glower. “I don’t need a tutor, I don’t want a tutor, and quite frankly, I don’t even want to be taking this fuckin’ course. However slash comma, I need this course, so I can get the degree, build some shit from the ground up like everybody else, blah, blah, blah. So. Let’s get started.”

The girl across from him just blinks for a second. Maybe he did come off a little harsh, but he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. You blink for a little longer, like you’re confused. Ransom is just about to ask if you’re deaf when you speak up. “O-okay. Right. So, I spoke to your mother-“

“Fucking fantastic.” You glare.

“I talked to your mother and she-“

“Wait a sec,” Ransom interjects for a second time. Your eyes get wide, like you’re about to lunge across the table and strangle him. “What’s your name, sugar-tits?”

You pull a face at him, somewhere between murderous and disgusted. “Y/N. Can you please stop interrupting me?”

Ransom only smiles, and you continue. His mother had emailed you in depth, evidently. Told you all about how he failed last semester, desperately needs the credit, et cetera, et cetera. Great. It sounds almost rehearsed, though, not as nervous nor hesitant as everything you say after. He gets the feeling you don’t quite know what to make of him, yet, and he intends to keep it that way.

—————————

Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep.

Ransom sweeps his arm out wildly; he hears the thunk of his water bottle and the rattle of the aspirin bottle he’d preemptively put out as they hit the floor.

Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep.

Finally, he manages to grasp his phone, the source of the wretched noise. Christ, his head is pounding, but he swipes to answer the call without even looking. He blinks through his migraine in the gold evening light as he croaks out a hello.

“Where the fuck are you, Hugh?”

He looks at the clock - right, right. Ransom forces a laugh through his dry throat. You’re pissed, and rightfully so. “Ransom, please, princess-“

“Don’t ‘princess’ me, prick. This is the third time this week. I’ve been at the library for thirty fucking minutes!” You hate him, hate him, hate him, but it’s been a handful of weeks now, and you know he’s positively beaming on the other end of the line. “I talked to Marcus-“

“Sweetheart,” He tries again, reaching for his water,  “Marcus? C’mon, what’d I say about talking to my friends-“

“And what did I say about getting drunk off your ass the night before we’re ‘sposed to meet up? Ransom,” And you’re so angry your voice shakes and blurs with it, with the disappointment, and oh, that shouldn’t make him stir. “Seriously. Get your ass down here. I’m not letting Linda fucking Drysdale down.”

Ah yes, Little Miss Perfect, Future Miss CEO who idolizes his mother. There’s a little click as you hang up, and Ransom chuckles to himself as he takes a swig of water. He’s really considering meeting you, too; he’s just about to slither out of bed, throw on some clothes, grab his textbook. Then his latest conquest sits up beside him and stretches tanned arms, shaking long curls from her shoulders.

“Hope that wasn’t your girlfriend. I was really hoping for a round 3.”

And hell, who is he to deny a lady? (An asshole, and a liar, and an unreliable piece of expletive along with a few other colorful insults, according to the myriad of texts from Y/N. He puts his phone on silent.)

—————————

“I’m not shocked you failed this chapter twice in a row,” Your murmur as you trace your finger under the header “Strategic Differentiation is Key: Listening to and Working with Others”. It’s late spring, the library a little more crowded as more students brave the trek across campus. He sits beside you, instead of across from you, now, thigh to thigh. “You only talk to people if it benefits you. Actually, strategic differentiation is beneficial, so I guess I am a little shocked.”

“I never wanted to be a businessman,” Ransom shrugs, leaning his chair back on two legs. Your brows furrow, and you set your pen down hesitantly, like you know they’re broaching a tedious moment. The sort of thing that doesn’t occur often - Hugh Ransom Drysdale, being vulnerable. You’re quiet, though, and he finds himself continuing.

“I wanted to be a writer like my grandpa,” He admits softly, and he doesn’t know what’s made him say it - did he hit his head in his sleep last night? - but it’s out there. It hangs between them heavily. Your fingers curl around the edges of the textbook they’re sharing.

“I...That’s really sweet, Ransom,” You murmur finally in that stupid, adorable, fucking annoyingly soft way of yours. “Really sweet.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ransom scoffs. He shrugs it off, like everything else, shifting and slinging an arm over the back of your chair. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

“I-What?”

“You heard me. I told you something, you tell me something. Call it leveling the playing field. An eye for an eye.”

“‘An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind’,” You mutter uncertainly. You remain silent for a beat too long afterwards. Ransom leans his weight on his forearms on the table, ducking his head to speak in your ear.

“C’mon, what are you? A virgin?” He laughs at his own clever jab, but when he sits up, you still aren’t answering, face mortified. Ransom gasps exaggeratedly, grinning wickedly at his own fortune. “You are. Holy fuck. You’re a goddamn virgin.”

“Not so loud!” You hiss, slapping at his arm. You want to puke right into his stupid lap. Not that there was anything wrong with being a virgin, but hearing him say it like that... Damn him, you think, and then you huff, “Damn you.”

“Aw it’s okay, princess,” Ransom coos, and he’s mocking you, you know he’s mocking you, but something sparks in your stomach. He pinches your cheek in the way old ladies do to small children. “Nothing to be ashamed about. Not like you’re a junior in college and perfectly pretty enough to find yourself a hookup. What’s the hold-up, sugar?”

She presses her thighs together. Ransom pretends not to notice, still intent on an answer. Consumed with a combination of embarrassment and need (though mostly the former), she shrugs. “Just...waiting for the right guy, I guess.”

Ransom snorts, as if to tell her “that’s a waste of time”, or maybe because they both know it’s bullshit. But he utters nothing more on the subject, and instead picks up his pen. 

“So, I think this is what tripped me up here...” 

She can’t focus on his question. His free hand is tracing funny little patterns on her knee. 

—————————

“Ransom....” 

“Shhh,” He huddles closer to her, hushing her wary pleas. They’re at a different table, today, further in the back. He’s got a hand slipping up beneath her skirt. “Just trust me, princess. Keep on teaching me, while I teach you.”

And she does; her voice trembles, be it with nerves or need, as he dips his fingers beneath her panties. Ransom traces over her clit, teasingly, just to hear her stumble over the sentence she’s trying to explain to him. Fuck Management Skills - he was managing just fine, if he did say so himself. He prods at her entrance, gathering her slick on his finger tips, before sliding one slick digit in to the hilt. She makes a sound somewhere between gasping and choking. Ransom grins uncontrollably, ducking his head into her neck.

“So wet for me already, princess,” He whispers, a second finger joining the first. She bites her lip as he teases a third, so soon. “Come on. Focus.”

“Ransom, I can’t,” She half-whines, pages crinkling as she grips the textbook desperately. She squirms, but he’s unrelenting. “Please, we’re gonna get caught...”

“Not if you stay quiet,” Ransom replies gruffly. He experiments, just a little; they’d been making out before, after, during their sessions for a couple of weeks now. Each time, he grew bolder. Ransom hooks his fingers one instance - pumps them rapidly the next. When she’s come apart all over his hand, receiving a pinch to her oversensitive clit just to see her flinch, your lip is bleeding from biting so hard.

Ransom hasn’t learned shit about delegation, but he knows now how to make her cum.

_______________________

You’ve never been to Ransom’s before; of course, he’d swung a small apartment just on the edge of campus. Your skin trembles even as you try to steel yourself. You know Ransom hadn’t asked to relocate your tutoring session because he was tired. The two of you had practically finished the course, anyway, and he really was grasping it without your guidance at this point. You weren’t naïve; he wanted privacy.

Your suspicions are proved right as soon as you step inside. The moment you’ve toed off your shoes, he’s sweeping you into a heavy kiss, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck. His thumb presses into your throat; just pressure, nothing serious, but you still squeak. Ransom all but growls, free arm hooking about your hips.

“Jump, honey,” He says into your mouth, and you do, legs tight about his waist. He carries you through the apartment without a hitch; you knew there was some beef hiding beneath all those damn sweaters. You’re dropped a little carelessly onto what is unmistakably his bed; of course the bastard’s got silk sheets. Ransom tosses his shirt somewhere behind him, sliding cold fingers beneath your shirt. “This alright?”

And you half think it’s sweet of him to ask, but you also know his mother, and would frankly be surprised if he didn’t ask. Embarrassment and, honestly  dignity out the window, you arch into his touch. “Please.” 

Ransom makes quick work of your pants and undergarments; he’s still clad in sweatpants that probably cost more than you want to imagine as you lay naked before him. He looks more like a predator than ever, expression absolutely ravenous as he levels his face with your dripping center.

“Oh, I’ve never-” You stutter, face burning as he looks up at you as if bored with your voice. When Ransom speaks next, his breath has goosebumps crackling down your thighs.

“I know, baby. Just let me take care of you, hmm?” And all you’re capable of is a rigid nod before you’re throwing your head back as his tongue traces figure eights on your clit. 

“Fuck!” You cry, and he hums something akin to a laugh into your core. His thumbs spread you open further as his tongue laps at your impossibly wet entrance; when he sucks at your clit, you almost scream. Ransom, still teaching himself your ins and outs, reaches up to tweak a nipple, and you thrash. That’s when he sits up.

“Was so...close...” You pant, bringing your chin to your chest with more effort than should be necessary. His weight has left the bed; he’d stood to rid himself of his pants, unsurprisingly having gone commando. You’re gifted with the glorious sight of his impossibly thick thighs as Ransom smirks, pumping his thick, leaking member lazily.

“When you cum today, baby, it’ll be on my cock,” The blond promises darkly as he clambers back onto the bed. His bulbous tip slides up and down between your glistening folds, and he groans, basking and unashamed in his own arousal. “And only...gah, fuck....only on my cock.”

You whimper in response as he pushes right in to the hilt. He wiggles his hips, swivels a bit; you’re unsure of whether it’s to fuck with you or make sure he’s snug within your throbbing heat, but you moan none the less. Ransom takes this as the okay to begin thrusting, and any discomfort quickly dissipates as he thumbs at your clit in tight circles. For the first time since you’d met him, there’s not an ounce of snark or irritation; he swings a knee over one arm, managing to angle up against your sweet spot each time, and your hands scrabble for purchase on his shoulders. 

“Ransom...fuck, Ransom, please, I-” You whine as he pushes your knee toward your chest, pounding you ever harder in juxtaposition with his soft shushing.

“I know, princess, I got you,” Ransom grunts, forehead sweat-slick as he presses his face into your neck. He nips, just barely, breath coming hard and heavy. “Just let go, baby, right there with you, c’mon...” 

With a cry that has Ransom clapping a hand over your lips, you cum, legs practically vibrating as you thrash with the force of it. Ransom’s hand doesn’t leave your clit until you’re nearly sobbing from the overstimulation; just like he’d promised, moments after your own orgasm, he slips out of your channel. You can’t truly identify the feeling swirling in your gut as he spills his seed across your torso, nor as he trails two fingers through it and brings it to your lips.

“Hey,” Ransom heaves after a heavy silence, the both of you still naked with his fingers still being laved by your tongue. “Did I ever tell you about my A in Management? Grade went up like, two weeks ago. I told you that, right?”

You bite down on his fingers in reply.

[zimms]

do you know that reddit post that's like "i'm in quarantine with my roommate (we're both dudes) and we've been cuddling together a lot. am i gay?" because at least to me it has big olliewicks vibes

hey dude! i’m sorry this is so late, but hopefully you’ll like it! 

Ollie groggily awakens to the feeling of two strong arms wrapped around his stomach, holding him close and grounding him. He lets out a sigh of contentment before squeezing his eyes shut and burrowing his head slightly further into the tangle of bodies, pursuing the warm heat of the other person. The body beneath him shifts slightly, emitting a slight groan and disturbing Ollie’s brief peace. That’s when he realises three things.

They’re in the middle of a pandemic.

His only human contact in the past two months, other than cashiers at their local grocery store, has been Wicky.

The person beneath him is definitely Wicky. Ollie can feel it in every plane, every angle, every curve of the body he’s laying on top of. It’s in the way that Wicky’s breathing slightly stutters after every inhale. He knows it’s Wicky because every inch of Wicky’s body is unique and Ollie’s memorised all of them. So yeah, definitely Wicky.

Ollie takes a moment to just breathe and catalogue the situation. He cracks an eye open and he immediately heaves a sigh of relief; they’re both wearing clothes, which means that they didn’t do anything that either of them might regret. Well, or at least, nothing that Ollie might regret; he can’t speak for whether or not Wicky might regret even cuddling him, let alone anything else. 

He cranes his neck slightly to catch sight of the TV, where the Netflix Are you still watching? screen stares back at him. Oh yeah, they’d been watching Tiger King together on the couch before they’d fallen asleep on top of each other. 

Ollie braces his hands on either side of Wicky and slowly rolls off of his best friend, careful not to land on the squeaky couch spring and wake him up. He slides slowly to the floor and places his head in his hands. 

Fuck. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and groans as quietly as he can into his palms. He’s been doing so well at tamping down his crush on Wicky up until now, but something inside of Ollie has ignited after spending the night in such close proximity to him. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to pretend when Wicky wakes up that he didn’t savour every moment that his skin was pressed against Wicky’s, that he doesn’t know exactly what Wicky looks like when he’s sound asleep, that he hasn’t memorised the way their chests rose and fell against each other in perfect synchrony.

Ollie shakes his head before pushing himself to his feet and padding into the kitchen to get breakfast. That’s enough thinking for today.

----

Ollie shifts his weight from side to side as he leans outside of George’s office and listens to the sound of chairs scraping behind the door. Thank fuck, they’re almost done; he’s been leaning against this wall for twenty goddamn minutes and his feet are aching. He straightens up as the door swings open and he plasters a grin on his face; no matter how annoying a long wait is, scowling probably isn’t the best first impression when you’re meeting your new employer. 

However, Ollie’s grin disintegrates when he sees the guy that comes out of the office and instead his mouth drops open. 

Holy fuck. 

Ollie unashamedly stares at the guy as he ambles down the corridor. God, every inch of him is pure perfection. From cheekbones that could cut glass, to wide brown eyes that seem to reflect and emit light until the whole corridor illuminates with this guy’s presence. From the lopsided grin that plays across his face, to the biceps that are way too big for the sleeves of his Falcs t-shirt. Ollie lets his eye’s slide to the guy’s ass; yeah, that’s definitely a hockey player. 

He’s stunning.

And, the little voice in the back of Ollie’s mind pipes up, a teammate.

Ollie slumps down the wall again and groans. He’s so fucked. 

----

Ollie had hoped that he’d be able to avoid all thoughts of his crush on Wicky for a while, well, preferably forever. He’s always been so careful to never let their cellies on the ice go too far, never letting Wicky kiss him on the helmet like he does every other player, never letting their hugs last for too long, never actively seeking out physical affection from him other than quick bro hugs and a slap on the back. 

The universe has other plans for him apparently.

That one night of couch cuddling seems to have opened the floodgates, because all of a sudden Ollie’s inundated by a tidal wave of physical affection from Wicky and it’s just becoming too difficult. Too difficult to ignore the onslaught of butterflies in his stomach when their hands brush slightly when they’re reaching for the salt at the dinner table. Too difficult not to stare at him when they’re watching a movie next to each other on the couch and he shifts over slightly so that their legs are touching. Too difficult to even begin to process and cope with the fact that Wicky has started coming into Ollie’s room to fucking cuddle with him. It’s too difficult because Ollie is finally allowing himself to hope and he doesn’t even fucking know if Pacer, Wicky, Pace, is anything other than straight. 

It’s just too goddamn difficult to be around his best friend. 

Ollie smiles down at where Pacer has tucked himself underneath his right arm, eyes softly shut and a peaceful smile playing across his face, and he feels his heart breaking. If he wants to preserve their friendship beyond this quarantine in any way shape or form, he needs to stop indulging himself like this. What if Pacer’s angry because Ollie’s taken advantage of him because Ollie’s using this- this thing between them to selfishly fulfill his own wants? What if Pacer’s only comfortable doing this because he thinks Ollie’s straight? What if-

Ollie squeezes his eyes shut and curls his hand into the sleeve of Pacer’s shirt, forcing that line of thought to come screeching to a halt before it becomes a trainwreck. He needs to stop thinking like that; Pacer’s not gonna abandon him after three years of friendship and being lineys because of some no homo, bro bullshit. Or at least, Ollie hopes he wouldn’t. Pacer’s not that kind of person. 

(Aww, fuck. He also needs to stop referring to him as Pacer in his head. He needs to distance himself from Wicky somehow, and he’s definitely not going to pull away from him physically, especially as they’re each the other’s only source of human contact for the next month or nine, so emotional distancing will have to do.)

He heaves a sigh and lets himself slump against the headboard, careful to make sure that Wicky’s head doesn’t fall too quickly from where it’s leant against Ollie’s shoulder. Wicky stirs at the sudden movement  and his eyes slowly open, a sleepy beam playing across his face and chestnut eyes staring intently at Ollie like he’s the moon gazing upon the sun. 

Ollie muffles a groan. He just doesn’t know what to think anymore. 

----

The second that Ollie and Pacer Wicks step onto the ice together for the first time it feels electric. They complement each other in every way; Pacer skates slightly faster than Ollie does, whilst Ollie has a slightly more accurate pass that finds Pacer every single time. It’s like they were made for each other. 

It’s fantastic.

(It’s torturous.)

Ollie finds himself spending even more time with Wicky than he originally planned for, and things just keep going from good to great. 

(They go from bad to worse)

They have the same taste in films to the extent that they now have a monthly The Princess Bride rewatch. They’re both cat people and it’s slipped into their pre-game routine to go for a walk together, looking for the neighbourhood cats and calling pspspspsp to them in the hopes that they’ll come running and grant them good luck before the game. They’ve won every game that they’ve stroked a cat before, so Ollie isn’t really inclined to let go of the superstition, and, judging by the way Wicky grins at the little fuzzballs, Wicky is equally reluctant to stop their pre-game walks. The best thing they have in common is that both of their leases are up at the end of this month; who’s Ollie to pass up the opportunity to live with the guy that’s rapidly becoming the most important person in his life?

(Ollie’s an absolute fool. Living with Wicky is going to kill him very slowly and definitely isn’t the way to rid himself of a crush that’s quickly morphing into something even more serious. 

Ollie is, once again, fucked.)

----

Ollie tries to pull away slowly rather than withdrawing all physical affection at once. It’s painful, but if it keeps Wicky from hating him, Ollie will gladly do it. Heck, if it was to protect Wicky, Ollie would do anything. 

He starts slowly. He shifts over a bit on the couch, leaving a deliberate gap between them on the couch, so that no wandering limbs can reach out for each other. He makes sure to hold out the condiments at dinner, so that there’s no way for either of them to find an excuse for their fingers to touch, no matter how much Ollie hungers for it. He starts spending more time in his room, doing his online college courses there, rather than in the living room like he usually does. He goes to bed earlier, hoping, wishing, praying that Wicks doesn’t try to join him for a cuddle. 

(Ollie ignores the little voice in the back of his mind that’s screaming to feel the press of Wicky’s warm body against his again. He ignores the wounded glances that he receives from Wicky every time he avoids eye contact. He ignores the aching pangs inside of his chest that appear whenever he spends too long gazing at Ollie.)

----

Moving in together is the best idea and the worst idea that Ollie’s ever gone along with.

Pros: He gets to spend every day with Wicky.

Cons: Spending every day with Wicky might actually kill him soon. RIP Oliver O’Meara. Cause of Death: Walking into the kitchen and seeing Wicky topless and sleep rumpled, muscles rippling as he reaches for the coffee. 

Pros: He knows Wicky almost as well as he knows himself.

Cons: He now knows that Wicky is hung up on someone after one particularly drunken ramble.

(Fuck.)

----

It’s a week after the first cuddling incident that Wicky pulls open the door to Ollie’s room and marches in, eyebrows lowered and eyebags darker than ever. Ollie immediately slams the lid of his laptop shut, straightening up from where he’s slumped against the headboard of his bed. He frowns. “What’s up, Wicky?”

Wicky freezes on the other side of the room. “What’s up?” he says, voice cracking and strangled. Yikes, this must be worse than Ollie thought it was. “You’re asking me what’s up?” He drops onto the bed, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a river. “You’re the one that’s disappeared recently.” He pushes the heels of hands into his eyes. “We used to do everything together and now whenever I look for you, you’re in here.” He tears his hands away from his face, to gesture frantically around the room. Wicky appears to be manic; his hair’s all ruffled and there’s this slightly crazed look in his eyes. “What did I do, Ol?”

Ollie scrambles out of bed to come and sit next to Wicky. He stretches out a hand to comfort Wicky, but withdraws it as he fumbles for what to do or say. “You didn’t do anything, Pace,” he says softly, resisting the urge to reach out and swipe away the tears that are trickling intermittently down his cheeks. “It’s me that’s the problem.”

Wicky raises an eyebrow at him, stare stern in spite of the crying. “Really? So you’re completely fine with me cuddling you? And definitely didn’t start shutting down any of my attempts to spend time with you?” Ollie flinches and Wicky scoffs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I-” Ollie trails off, eyes wandering until his gaze meets Wicky’s. The look in Wicky’s eyes isn’t scornful, no matter how much it deserves to be, instead his eyes are calm and fathomless like the earth after a long-anticipated rain. “I didn’t want to hurt you, though I clearly failed in that respect. I’m just so worried that you’re going to think less of me, especially once I tell you that-” Ollie clamps his mouth shut, as words he’s barely even thought to himself start to tumble out into the open.

“Tell me that..?” If Ollie didn’t know any better, he’d think that there was a trace of hope in Wicky’s voice. “C’mon, Ol, I’m not gonna leave you, no matter what you say.”

Ollie rubs his hand across his eyelids before stuttering out, “I’m in love with you.” Shit, that is not what he meant to say. “Fuck, I mean, I like you. Romantically.” He hides his face in his hands. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I figured going cold turkey for a couple of days might do me some good.” He pulls his hands from his face suddenly and lets them drop to his knees. “Is that what you wanted to hear? That I like you? That I might be, fuck it, I am in love with you?”

The silence in the room answers that question for him and Ollie feels a tear roll down his face and a gutteral sob tear its way from his throat. 

“Fuck, Ol,” Pacer says, scrubbing a weary hand across his face, and that’s when Ollie knows that it’s all over, that he’s going to be rejected by the most important person in his life. “That’s definitely not what I was expecting, but it’s not unwelcome by any means.”

It’s not?

Ollie suppresses a sniffle as he voices this sentiment aloud. 

Pacer laughs, honest to God, laughs. “It’s actually very welcome, considering the fact that I’ve been pining for you since long before you got traded to Providence.”

He’s what-?

“I-” Ollie stumbles over the words, cheeks heating, “but you’re straight? And you’re hung up on someone?”

Pacer swipes a thumb across Ollie’s cheek, tracing the trail of his blush. “Ol, when did I ever say I was straight?” he asks, his gaze intently focused on Ollie. “Anyway, it’s always been you.” He leans in closer, breathing out one final word before sealing their lips together. “Always.”