#i need to start categorizing shit man uh let's go with

[menlove]

i've got you under my skin (where the rain can't get in) -chapter one

The first time Paul met the John Lennon, former lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of the Beatles and one of the most famous men of anyone's generation, he almost took a cricket bat to his head. ** Between trying to get his band off the ground and fucking his flatmate's hot, incredibly famous dad, Paul McCartney has a lot going on in his life. rating: explicit chapters: 1/4 pairing: john lennon/paul mccartney

chapter 1 of the worst thing i've ever written is up ayyy enjoy!

[wisteria-lodge]

badger primary (bird model)

Oh no. Here we go. I am a bird primary. I know it. Everything about me is constructed. Any belief i have is because it makes sense. From the foods i eat to the principles i follow. My life has been well thought out and i love discussing everything. Dissecting why i think the way i do, why i do the things i do, why Other people think and do things. I want the answers to the big questions. My carefully constructed (yet always mutable) values and morals guide me. I am a bird! 

Except… except this one teeny tiny part. This part that screams Universal Badger. All living things are equal. This can sometimes even extend to plants. Ever since i was young, i was like this. This was never something that i discovered. It wasn’t constructed. It is the core of my very being. 

One time, when i was very little, my parents had to cut down a willow tree and i had a nervous breakdown because i felt like this beautiful tree was being murdered before me. I bawled my eyes out. Its simply a part of who i am. 

But i hate the idea of groups! And i don’t want to be part of one. Groups separate us from one another. They tribalize us. I don’t belong anywhere and i am happy with that. I am one with the planet gosh darn it! And when the planet is harmed by those who would gain from doing so, i go into a moral rage. If any of my beliefs harm living things, i carefully reconsider them and maybe tweak my lifestyle to do less harm. I, of course, have to be practical though. If i didnt harm ANY biologically living thing, i would starve. There’s always fruitarian, I suppose… but what about all the other things that need to eat to survive? Its the circle of life, man. And we are lucky to be a part of it, if only for an infinitesimally small amount of time. 

Doctor Isley! It’s so good to hear from you. I hear Wanye Enterprises has gone green recently, that’s fantastic news. (Bet you had something to do with it ;)  ☠️ 🌿 Say hey to Harley for me, and congrats on the new HBO show. 

(Not too much to say about this submission, apart from that I’m loving it.) 

Speaking of time… fuck that shit. I hate time. You know, i think this bird part was kind of forced on me. I’ve always been quirky. Set apart from others. But not necessarily birdy. 

Every night, starting when i was about 15, my dad would debate me. About politics, mostly. But this was before i could just go on a phone and look up anything i wanted and say, “ha! Gotcha!” I couldnt really prep for a debate and i was fairly uninformed, simply because, well, dial up. I can still remember that noise vomit dial up made. Good times. But yeah anyways so i had no way to really defend my position. All i had to go on was my universal badger. But you cant win with that and my father and i have naturally opposing views. He made me explain to him my position to convince him. I realized that if he heard me use logic, he would approve and maybe, just maybe, i could get through to him. 

I see your dad being a *really* intense Bird primary… and I see some young Badger primary in that need to keep the family community strong.

Maybe i could win. BUT i was still sorely uninformed about the things he wanted to debate. My end game plan was to construct my positions AROUND my badger reasoning. I tied all my arguments back to that. I was able to frame them in a way that sounded logical, while not betraying my badger morals. Useful skill to have. 

The debates would often get heated, but it was only after my patience wore down and he started threatening the world with his words. At least, he did in my view. All muslims are evil terrorists? Uh, no! That’s stereotyping. Categorizing. Clumping them all in to a GROUP of undesirables. Maybe thats why i hate groups so much. Lets all just hold hands and sing “you are my sunshine” or something instead. But… i love this bird of mine too. This is also an integral part of me. In fact, my partner and i fell in love through our birds. We can discuss things for hours.

 But i get scared when he touches on topics that threaten humanity. I know he is simply toeing the line and it doesn’t mean anything. He doesnt believe these topics. In fact, hes one of the most honorable, good people i know, but it makes me dreadfully uncomfortable and squirmy inside sometimes. 

Yeah, don’t worry about that. He’s just playing. Birds like to try on crazy hypotheticals for fun sometimes. But as a felt primary, deep down, I see how that could get to you. 

So, in conclusion i think i MAY be a badger that hates groups and traditions and societal standards, but loves the whole world and everything on it. With a REALLY strong bird model that is basically my primary unless the world is threatened. Does that make sense?

[heli0s-writes]

lights up*

A/N: Stucky (primarily Steve)/Reader. 2k words of idkwhatthisisi’msorry. There was a prompt from six months ago that I wrote this for but I lost the message and I can’t remember! All mistakes are my own, please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

You wake up in scattered shock.

Knee-jerk reaction to fast hands sliding between your thighs, fingers carelessly ticking sensitive skin.

You wake up to a groggy voice, slurred with sleep and raspy-raw.

“Baby,” it croaks from between your legs, “Honey, sweetheart, sugar. Please, please, please let me eat your pussy.”

Wha—

A few disbelieving blinks as you scrabble for your bearings—can’t see shit—still dark—head throbbing.

“Oh god, I wanna sosososo bad,” and then hands are between your knees, spreading your legs apart. “So… damn... tasty. Uh-huh… Come to daddy.”

Who the fuck is—damn it, Bucky.

In the dead hour of four-something when nothing should be moving so intentionally, an unsteady moan tumbles out of him when he starts groping for your ass.

“Buck!” You whisper, kicking your leg to shake him off. Grabbing the covers with one hand, you reach under with the other, swatting his head and trying to get a firm hold on him. Slippery fucking man.

He pauses for a second before his body goes limp, half hanging off the foot of the bed and you groan at his weight. Idiot boy. Two hundred pounds of horny somnambulist dropping like an anchor on your poor legs.

Fiddling now with how to get him back up to his regular spot, you try to do it quietly, the warmth radiating next to your left shoulder a compelling incentive. Even with your wits barely about you, you know better than to wake—

“Whassit? Whas goin’ on?”

Steve. Ah.

“Nothing,” you sigh, reaching over and stroking his arm absently, one foot tapping against Bucky’s waist to urge him upward. “He’s just sleep-talking again.”

Steve makes a groggy noise of comprehension. “Sleep-talking or sleep-fucking?”

“Just sleeping now. Ugh… didn’t mean to wake you.”

He’d come in late again—meetings and paperwork keeping him well after hours. Not even able to do it from home, which would have been nice. At least here you could make sure he was eating, or drinking enough water, or at least be in the presence of good company.

Instead, you and Buck watched a movie, took a few rounds of shots (because he likes the taste and how you look dancing all over the coffee table), fooled around in the kitchen, and turned in around two—Steve nowhere in sight. Some jobs were Captain-Only, which meant you’d have to make peace with being useless.

That’s generally not a task that goes over well. The amount of untamed energy Bucky exudes without Steve’s guidance is… close to being categorized as a natural disaster and trying to stay up with him is always a double-edged sword. Lots of fun, sure, but he requires less sleep than you do and can finagle you into getting piss drunk with a single smirk.  

“Wish you’d been more responsible.” Bone-tired and Steve’s still bossy. His arm is heavy as it snakes over your tummy. “You know he needs direction.”

“Hey, I tried.”

“Issat right? That why your panties’re on the counter? Shirt in the sink, too. Come home close to four and still gotta clean up after the two of you.”

His raspy breath tickles, plump lips crushed just below your ear—enough to start a chain reaction of shudders.

“Go back to sleep,” you huff, embarrassed. It was only a few hours ago so your head’s still a bit fuzzy—vague memory of playful touches before hearing, hop up, baby, from Bucky. And you, tittering and zealous the whole way, kissing him like he’d never been kissed before.

YouTube blinking on the T.V., stuck on some ad because the streaming’s a snail’s pace from when Steve set up the internet and tried to pinch pennies at the same time. Bucky’s specially crafted “Wine, Dine, and Sixty-Nine” playlist refusing to load even half a song afterwards so neither of you could spare your neighbors from hearing all the noises.

Hopefully the laughter was loudest, and not the primal fucking, or the crashing when you slipped off the counter and knocked Bucky on his ass.  

You giggle at that. Years and years together and some nights still feel brand new.

“Have fun without me?”

There’s no real jealousy in Steve’s voice, but there is greed behind the question. A single night away and he acts like he’s never been kissed either.

Your eyes start fluttering when his fingers curl around your hipbone. Je-sus. Hell. It’s too late—early—for this.

You grumble his name, asking him to save it for a couple more hours when your brain doesn’t feel pried free, but, Captain-Only mode activated and he’s not deterred. A bloodhound on a fresh trail.

The hand on your hip turns inward and you’re suddenly aware of him pressed against your body, that hot line of him, pulsing on your upper thigh. He tilts forward, one knee rubbing up your leg. Bucky stirs a little and makes another declaration about how he’s fit for the CEO position of Eating Your Ass, but nothing more after that.

“He do you good?” Steve wonders, apparently not giving a fuck about whether Bucky’s dead or alive down there and instead only worried about repositioning you, rolling you on your side, “That why you’re so happy to get me out of the house? So you two can fool around unchecked as much as you want?”

“Steve, you know damn well—"

His hand slips around the side of your neck, four thick fingers drumming over the ridges of your throat. “Watch your mouth,” he whispers, “before you get yourself into any more trouble.”

He gets mean without enough sleep. And no one would ever guess, but other than working over some poor punching bag that’ll never see the light of day after he gets his hands on it, Captain America likes to fuck it out. You and Buck have properly come out of a few sessions barely alive, feeling like two ends of a slinky that’s taken one too many tumbles down a flight of stairs.

You squirm as he palms your bottom with his free hand, kneading the bare flesh a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts can’t cover.

“Gotta be quiet,” he tells you gently, “Can’t wake him, can we.” Christ help you. What a time to play a game. You mumble under your breath, “Do I have a choice?”

A prod at your already sore entrance, and Steve says, annoyingly convinced, “I think you’ve already made your choice.”

He stills for a second when Bucky flops around on the mattress and then he starts pressing his mouth to your back, your shoulder, other hand holding you steady with expertise. It’s Steve’s favorite position when he wants to be in charge—you, writhing and turned away, usually leaned about 50 degrees and pawing at Bucky’s chest—this morning, feebly snatching sheets instead.

It doesn’t take any buildup. He’s achingly ready; you’re willingly wet. Clothes moved just enough out of the way and his two fingers slide upward, pushing barely to spread you before he quickly replaces it with something much thicker. It’s only been a few seconds. He’s too fast for you to get a word in edgewise, your brain still muddled, body cooperative.

“Huh,” Steve mumbles, slowly feeling his way into position, “A bit fucked loose, aren’t you?”

“Steve,” you hiss in reply, clenching up reflexively the same time mortification bursts across your scrunched- up face. “Don’t say that.”

“Hush, baby.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder.” And he’s evil incarnate, you swear. Satan himself packaged up in the neat body of a demigod. He rolls his hips slowly until the tops of his thighs are pressed against your ass, fingers holding so tight you think he’s going to spear right into bone. “Stay still or you’re gonna knee Buck in the cheek.”

You twist your head around, instead, shaking your chin free from his hand, hoping that once he sees your pitiful expression, he’ll find it in his heart to maybe not pound you into oblivion with bells on.

Of course, Steve’s not looking anywhere but down the line of your back and further to where he’s opening you up, bottom lip tucked into his teeth.

You constantly rib him about how he’s making up for all the years he spent with the two working eyes of a mole so now he’ll break his neck to watch. Bucky’s confirmed it multiple times to Steve’s chagrin, cackling at the way Steve goes purple defending himself. You love the stories they tell and retell; you try to spend most your time making up for all those years you weren’t there to find out.

Who isn’t in this relationship? Violently horny like teenagers, the three of you, spending every idle hour mishandling for each other like it’s the first time. Excitement primeval like animals in heat, apparently instinctual enough for one of you to do it in his sleep. Years and years and it still feels brand new.

The bed’s rocking surprisingly moderately for Steve’s usual pace, and it’s a bit heartwarming to know that he’s doing it because he really doesn’t want to wake Bucky, but he ramps up his game. He starts whispering again, meaner, hotter, the damn mouth on Steve Rogers continuing to give you hell this early morning.

He pinches your nipple hard, letting you gasp at the brief sting before he goes back up to your chin, your mouth, and then he puts the entire hand over it.

“Quiet. Not another fucking word out of you. Gotta teach you how to behave this morning, don’t I?” He’s working himself up, working you over, even pulling you back on him by the hips and then wiggling you up and down on him like he’s adjusting you on a saddle. Motherfucker.

Your toes curl, knees grinding, legs folding up to get simultaneously closer and away from him and it feels—it feels so excruciatingly good—the effortless glide of his cock, the burn of friction dragging itself out the more you wriggle. Whatever indelicate sounds falling out of your mouth are getting mashed back in, Steve ramming himself into your body, shaking your brain further loose.

He’s probably louder than he intends to be—you know how he gets when he’s close— bombs could be dropping two feet away and Steve Rogers would hear nothing but the roar of his own wanting, chasing it until he crashes into bits. You’re chasing too, both hands clamped around his wrist, arching your back to near breaking.

“Yeah,” he rasps out, “That’s it, that’s good, baby. Ugnn—back up on me, stay—right there.”

More uneven jerking, he releases your face and starts rubbing your clit, saying, you like it like this? Like me givin’ it to you good like this? And you’re shaking in his arms, the both of you tipping over the edge.

-

“I wasn’t serious,” Steve says later after a few moments, lips all soft and gentle on your neck, rather than fierce like before, “Bout you bein’—” you can feel him shrugging, “Y’know… fucked loose.” He whispers the last part like it’s a sin.

You snort, “You turning decent on me? After railing me to death?”

“You sound pretty lively to me.” He pokes your side, “I just… woke up and remembered how much I missed you last night.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got both of us here—shit!”

“Steeeeeve,” and the sound of it slaps both you back to reality. Sleep-smashed, more tipsy than any alcohol could make him, Bucky’s giggles break the steady pattern of muffled conversation. His vibranium hand pats around for a new destination, undeterred by the disruption of his previous mission.

You can’t believe it. He’s still asleep.

“Steeeevie,” Bucky mewls again, “Lemme— lemme suck your dick, sweetheart.”

What a menace. Your shoulders start quivering as you poorly hold it back, pfffftppblffpt’s kickstarting Steve into a tizzy right alongside you.

Bursting laughter finally wakes him up. Bucky yelps once, twice, flailing like a cat caught unawares and rolls himself right off the goddamn bed.

Two hundred pounds of newly conscious pervert wallops the hardwood floor and you’re sure the entire apartment complex—if they didn’t hear the ruckus last night—certainly heard it this morning.

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 7)

<<Previous part Masterlist   Next part>>

Join the taglist in here (Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman)

Warnings: mentions of suicide and murder, awfully cheesy petnames (yes I have to put a warning on that).

The streets were so cold you had to rub your hands to your neck as you walked. You had only one piece of information that could’ve been possibly linked to that murder, and therefore that stick.

Saying you weren’t worried about being very undercover was a lie; an almost seven feet tall “man” that dressed like a millionaire, and a man with a metal prosthesis and abnormal sized muscles were not exactly the definition of discrete, much less once they were being categorized as “wanted”.

“Are you sure it’s this way?” asked Loki impatiently.

“No”.

“And why…?”.

“Stop torturing me with questions you know the answer of. Shut it and let me do my thing”.

“What is exactly your thing?”.

“Trying to not stab you in the balls, if you keep being this annoying”.

“Alright, guys, keep it down”, mediated Bucky. His role in the team was starting to be more and more like a third wheel in a car that’s trying to break down purposely, and he hated every second of it. “Can’t wait for this mission to be over”.

“Talking about that, we still have a game of cards on hold”.

“We could never play that with Loki, he has mind powers or some shit like that. He’d cheat”.

“Me?” he held a hand to his chest dramatically, “I would never cheat on a cards game. That is dishonest and I would never do such mischievous thing”.

Your phone beeped and the address changed suddenly. You stopped dead on your tracks and both Loki and Bucky, who were walking in line behind you, stumped with each other and almost made you trip.

“Careful, guys”.

“Are you fucking…”.

“Leave it there, Barnes”.

“What happened?”.

“I don’t know, the address suddenly changed. This isn’t supposed to happen”, you hit a few times your phone after it froze, and realized it wouldn’t work anymore. “Well, we’re gonna have to do this the old fashioned way”.

“And how’s that?”.

“How am I supposed to know? You’re the one that's a thousand years old and he’s a hundred and six. I’m barely around the two decades”.

“I’m beginning to think maybe you’re not one for this job. Aren’t you the one in charge of the planning? How did you even get to this Stank Internship in the first place?”.

“Hey, don’t be mean to them. They’ll cry”.

You rolled your eyes and ignored them. Meanwhile, you looked around. You had to find this person. A person who saw the “death” of the man with the pendrive, but the only one who said nothing about it. Only thing you knew was that he was a worker in a coffee shop. Which coffee shop, you’d ask? Well, that’s a good question.

It had to be in the neighborhood, that was for sure. You looked around a bit more, trying to drink in all the information the streets and its habitants could give you.

“The man was killed being thrown off that building. They said it was suicide. It was not”, you finally said out loud, pointing at the direction of one of the tallest buildings of the city. You were too concentrated to even realize you had stopped talking again.

The man you were looking for had to have a full view of the window the guy was thrown off from, so it would be in… that direction. A reasonable distance to see both guys would be less than two blocks. And it happened in an unreasonable hour for a work break, so… it had to be… alright. I think I got it.

“What are we looking for, then?”.

“There has to be a coffee shop maximum two blocks away from one of these three streets, the counter of the bar has to be near the window (or showcase) and the showcase should be tall enough to see the high part of the building, so I’d say at least three meters tall. I assume the man we’re looking for is old and introverted, quiet, not very friendly. Not less than fifty years old”.

“Alright Sherlock”, said Bucky, patting your back. “I’ll write down not to mock your intellect. Now you don’t have to pretend like you just figure that out all by yourself”.

“Okay”, you said, not paying any attention to his words. You were still juicing all the information you could.

“I got lost in the description of the man, how did you reach that conclusion?”, asked Loki, who apparently was reading your mind, following your thought process.

“Well, he’s the only one who didn’t testify at all. The witnesses in this sort of cases go through a polygraph. If all he saw was a suicide, then he wouldn’t be lying, he’d go through the lie detector and go out as if anything happened. Since he saw more, and didn’t say anything, it’s probably because he wanted to protect himself against the law, or just too lazy to go into all the bureaucracy it’d imply”, you explained. Loki had a full blown smile across his face, not even hiding it. “What are you smiling at?”.

“Nothing”, he brushed it off and pretended to fix his tie.

“No, please, do give me your input”.

“I can’t read whether you’re being sarcastic or not”.

“Wanna find out, dear?”.

“Hey, the aggressive pet names are my thing. Get your own passive-aggressive mechanism”.

“Can you concen…? You know what? Whatever. I’m going there”, cut Bucky. He was so done.

You walked as fast as you could down the nearest street out of the three possible ones, and kept rubbing your (now almost numb) cold fingers.

“Buck, do you have a gun with you?”.

“I don’t think this is the best moment to kill yourself. Let us finish the mission first”.

“Though, honestly, I think it could speed things up a little”, added Loki.

“Wow, you guys are especially mean today. We might need something to threaten the guy with”.

“Just a pocket knife. Do you think it could help at all?”, he searched for more weapons in his pockets, but found none. Going undercover, you all had to leave your suits and armor in the hotel room. Loki cleared suggestively his throat and you gasped.

“Really? You can make it out of nowhere?”.

“No, but give me a weird shaped branch or anything similar and I can transform it. Transfigurations have been my specialty lately, though”.

“I love you wholeheartedly”.

“I’d literally marry you on the spot”.

“In fact, I think I might kiss you right now”.

“You guys have no idea how glad I am to know you’re lying”, said Loki, patting Bucky’s back.

To find the place was way easier than you had anticipated. Firstly, because it matched every single aspect you had predicted. Secondly, because it was the only coffee shop in the whole place.

The clicking bell filled the silent place as the scent of fresh coffee and baked goods infested your noses. There was only an old lady reading a paper and the fifty year old you were looking for. Bucky sat down on a table near the counter and you and Loki greeted the man.

“Hi, how are you?” you said with a fake warmth that would assure you his confidence. “We would like a black coffee…”, you looked at Loki, still acting, and he reached your thoughts telepathically to hear your “act, dude; you’re frowning”. He immediately softened up his expressions. “What would you like to drink, dear?”.

“Same as you, darling”, he smiled even faker than you. “So are we pretending to be a couple, now?”.

“Alright, two blacks, please”, you went back to the barista. “Yes, old people get all softies for young couples. Just follow me, we need him to like us”. “And a strawberry milkshake with extra cream and a cherry on top, for the gentleman on the table”.

“Going right up”, said the old man.

“Do you ever take vacations on mocking people?”.

“Never. It’s a true blessing”.

“So, what’s the plan?”.

“Same as it was before, except we can’t actually cause any harm while threatening him, if we do”.

“Why?”.

“Old lady at twelve o’clock?? Man, you really lack any empathy for innocent civilians, don’t you?”.

“Only with mortals. Don’t really care for them”.

“You’re probably lying. I know behind that shell there must be a big soft heart longing for...”.

“Alright, shut up, here comes our order”.

“Thank you, ah, wonderful”, you said, grabbing the cups. You pretended to just notice the news behind the counter, and Loki made the illusion of a highly realistic periodistic note on the suicide of the man with the stick. “Oh my… is that what I think it is?”.

The old man raised his eyebrows, intrigued.

“Uh, is just… don’t watch that, darling. It’ll make you feel sick”, said Loki tenderly, caressing your shoulder. “We sort of saw that… happening, you know?” he explained the old man.

“Oh, really?”.

“Yes, it was really close from here. Oh God, we saw it all happen, this poor man”.

“Very disturbing. Never seen such a gruesome situation in my short, very, very, very short life”, added Loki.

“Alright, we get it, humans live short lives”. “Believe me, you’re so lucky you didn’t have to see that”.

“Really?”, said again the barista, visibly nervous. “That terrible?”.

“Well, it’s a common tragedy, to be honest. But, you know, the cops and investigators were on our backs all night long”.

“Finally free now”, added Loki, still with his arm protectively wrapped around your shoulders. “You’re truly lucky to miss it”.

“Oh, yes. Sounds terrible. Glad didn’t see it, then”, he lied. And he was a bad liar. You didn’t even need Loki to tell you what you could so clearly see.

“And you know… I didn’t think it’d work, but we…” you chuckled innocently, as a kid telling their devilry to a friend, “we sort of lied to the lie detector, and it worked”.

“Love!”, gasped Loki, and lowered his voice “we shouldn’t be telling this to anyone. What if it spreads around?”.

“But, honey, have you seen this man? Why would you think he could wrong us?” you pointed at him and he, as you predicted, blushed with a smile.

“What did you lie about, if I may ask?”. He fell into the trap. You bent over the counter and lowered your voice.

“We saw it was not a suicide”.

Your expressions drew all seriousness and a terrifying look on your eyes gave the man the trust that you were being honest with him. He bent down on the counter too.

“What do you mean?”.

“We saw… oh God”, you started saying, but your eyes watered and Loki didn’t hesitate to hold your head to his chest, comforting you while you sobbed.

“I know, sweetheart, it’s terrible. I know”, he cooed. “We don’t know what to do with this piece of information. The man was thrown off violently, and the things they did to him before…” Loki hinted. The man swallowed hard and started sweating. Loki muttered nonsense, and you continued his empty explanation with sobs that sounded like words but nobody could actually figure out what you meant.

“That sounds awful, wow”, said the man, pretending he heard. Truth was, he didn’t need to insensitively ask for you to repeat yourself. He knew what had happened.

“We wonder what kind of deals could be behind all that, you know?”.

“Yes, very strange, to try to strip the man like that” started saying the old man, too affected by the situation to actually notice he was spilling the true tea. “It sounds like all a very weird business”.

“And that thing they pulled out of him!”.

“Ah… yes”.

You and Loki had started to lose your patience, and figured the man would be harder to interrogate like this than you’d expected. Loki squeezed your shoulder.

“My love, we should get going, don’t you think?”. And with get going he meant knocking the guy off and getting into his memories through Loki’s magic.

“No, my dearest, let’s stay here”, you insisted, without wanting to cause the fuss this was going to make. Ever since you came into the coffee shop, three other family groups had entered and were waiting for their order.

“But, sweet pie… I think we’re shocking the man enough”.

“Oh, please, I just want a normal day, honey bunny. Let’s stay and drink a cuppa here”.

Bucky chuckled at the pet name war you two were having, and the old man looked at you suspiciously. You sighed.

“Alright. Fuck it”.

“You’re cops, aren’t you?”, asked the old man. You fell off your character.

“No… but sorry anyways”, you said, kicking him on the face and smashing his head against the counter, leaving him unconscious.

“That was unnecessarily violent, I could’ve made him sleep with seiðr”, stated Loki, watching the man drip blood from his nose.

“Guys'', said Bucky, watching how all the clients were running away in fear, “I thought we said ‘keep it low, threaten discreetly’. What happened?”.

“For Fuck’s sake, just get into his head already, sweet muffin”.

“Hold his head, baby cakes”.

[sunlight-moonrise]

The Price (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader is a technical analyst for the BAU. She did not expect to be smitten by the resident genius. 

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic as well as my first time writing smut. I’d like to thank @spencer-reid-in-a-pool​ for beta reading my work (you’re a gem and I’ll fight for you). Also a quick thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins​ and those in the discord for being so welcoming and helping me with this. The fic is inspired by @erin-bo-berin​ Sweet Cheeks. 

Category: Fluff and Smut

Content Warnings: Oral (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex

Word Count: 6.0K

Masterlist

There are a lot of things I enjoy about this job. The salary is decent. My coworkers are pretty cool. I get to interact with a sexy genius from time to time- you know, the usual that comes with being employed by the government.

I started as a technical analyst for the BAU a few months prior, working alongside the one and only Penelope Garcia with assisting the rest of the team behind some computer screens. Coding and hacking is second nature to me so the job is not too difficult. It was either this or facing some years in jail because I couldn’t cover my tracks fast enough. Looking at mangled and mutilated bodies on a weekly basis is better than prison.

I get along rather well with the team. I pretty much call everyone by a term of endearment, much to Garcia’s delight. It was one of the things we had in common and helped us get along with one another much faster. I sometimes can get carried away with the innuendos, but Garcia welcomes everything I say with open arms.

I typically save my more sensual remarks for the doctor. I remember the good old days when he used to be so tongue-tied by my actions. Now my words barely surprises him.

A voice broke my concentration. “What got you thinking so hard, angel?” I turn towards the person, a smile already adorning my face. Lo and behold, Dr. Spencer Reid has graced me with his delectable presence.

“Would you believe me if I said that I was thinking of you Doc?” He had a small smile on his face. I could pretty much categorize all the smiles he uses because of how often I stare at him. I mean, it is a tragedy to not stare at such beauty. This particular smile means that he is content and comfortable.

“May I ask exactly what it was that you were thinking about?” he asked. 

“I cannot share the sordid details of my mind with you just yet darling. You’ll just have to use that beautiful mind of yours and conjure up something imaginative.”

He let out a small laugh and helped me carry the files I was juggling. My eyes immediately went to his hands. The things I’ll let those hands do to me. I bet only one is needed to perfectly wrap around my -- No bitch, focus. We got a case to present in five minutes. Right, right. Work now, daydream later.

We entered the conference room, where the rest of the team was already sitting at the round table, waiting for us. I gave out the files with Spencer’s help while Penelope started up the monitor.

“You guys are staying local but time is of the essence” she informed us. The TV lit up with four pictures of young boys. “We have a kidnapping case at Stafford County.”

“Were they kidnapped at the same time or place?” asked JJ as she skimmed over the report I handed out earlier.

“No” I said as I pointed to the two younger boys on the screen. “Jacob Rivers and David Hall were taken from their respective homes 48 hours ago” I then pointed to the two slightly older boys “Benjamin Harris was taken 12 hours ago at a park and Scott Turner was taken from the mall less than 6 hours ago.”

“Do these boys have anything in common?” Morgan asked out loud.

“Other than physical appearance and age group, these boys don’t have any similarities. They didn’t even go to the same school. As a matter of fact, David Hall was home-schooled.” replied Garcia.

“Garcia and I couldn’t find any common ground in the families’ educational, economic, or social backgrounds either” I added. “Once you guys take off, we’ll do a further dive into their personal histories.”

“The UnSub is already escalating, kidnapping from a private home and kidnapping from a crowded area within hours of each event is fairly drastic” Rossi stated.

“Maybe the Unsub is on a time frame? They could be feeling pressured and desperate” Emily questioned, trying to come up with some kind of initial profile.

Hotch already started standing up. “We’ll know more after analyzing the crime scenes and talking to local PD. Let’s head out.” The rest of the team followed, gathering their files and making an exit towards the door while Garcia headed for our office. Spencer lagged behind a bit and I already knew why. We have a little tradition of bidding farewell to one another before he takes off for a case.

I stood next to him, bumping my shoulder against his upper arm. “Don’t miss me too much while you are out there.”

“The more you remind me I have to leave, the more I want to stay here.” he grinned.

I snorted at his words, knowing that he was full of shit. There is nothing more that Reid loves than being out in the field. “Go be a hero and come back to me in one piece pretty boy.”

“Yes Ma’am.” he replied as he went to follow the team towards the elevator.

I swear that boy is immune to my teasing now. I miss seeing his face become flush, but I also enjoy the playful repartee we have now. I remember the first interaction I had with Spencer quite vividly. It truly was a comical moment.

 “Everyone this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She will be working alongside Garcia.” Hotch stated as he introduced me to the team. I have already met him and Penelope prior to being presented to everyone else.

“Derek Morgan, pleasure to meet you.” Whoa. If tall, dark, and handsome was a person, Morgan would be fit for the role. He offered his hand, which I immediately took.

“The pleasure is all mine” I replied with a wide smile.

I directed my attention to a much older gentleman. “David Rossi” said the Italian man who reminded me of a mob boss.

“Charmed to meet you.” I shook his hand, surprised by the strength behind it. Those older bones are still working for him.

Next came the petite blonde, whose figure I was both envious and enamored with. “Jennifer Jareau, but everyone here calls me JJ for short.”

“In that case, please call me (Y/N/N).” I shook her hand, and became even more envious with how soft her skin was. She has got to tell me her secrets.

I focused on the brunette with shoulder-length hair. “Emily Prentiss”. My God, I think being attractive is a requirement for this team. She offered her hand to shake and her grip was firm. Note to self, forget about Rossi; don’t get on Emily’s bad side.

“Nice to meet you.”

I turned to the final individual and was blown away by his beauty. Yup, my previous thought has been confirmed. Only good-looking people are allowed pass these doors. His bone structure looked like it was sculpted by Roman artists. His body was lean and slender, reminding me of a runner’s physique. My eyes stared up to the softest hazel eyes I have ever seen.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.” he introduced. I offered my hand immediately, wanting to feel his skin against mine.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), but you already knew that,” I said softly, my hand still out. He just stared at it as if it was an anomaly.

“Uh-the amount of pathogens passed through a handshake is astounding. A high five transmit half the number. But even then, a kiss is much more safe.” he quickly stated as he nodded his head. I almost didn’t catch any of it. Partially because of the rapid speech, partially because I was staring at his lips.

“Hmm, that’s news to me. However, if a kiss is what you want…” I lowered my hand and took a step closer to him. My eyes slowly moved from his eyes to his mouth and then back up. He took a slight step back.

“N-N-No, that’s not—I-I mean that —uhh...” His face was flushed and his tongue shot out to run against his lips. His eyes quickly darted across the room, seeking some help. I felt a sense of pride knowing I made this man flustered.

“I’m just teasing Doc.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was frightened by me. Maybe he was, but the blush on his face and the way he kept staring gave me further information on him.

“Don’t mind Reid,” Morgan said, coming to the young man’s rescue. “He has a thing with germs.” He finished, a smirk plastered on his face. Well, I hope he soon develops a thing for something else. Or rather someone else.  

I was just about to make another sly comment when Hotch interrupted. “Back to the case at hand.” He gave us all a pointed look. Right, I am at my first day at work. I’ll focus on hot doctors with hotter smiles and the hottest face at my own time.

“Yes sir,” Garcia stated, as she started pushing buttons on a remote. The TV turned on and pictures of three different women showed up on the screen. They all looked to be strangled to death. “You guys are needed in Toledo, Ohio.” Garcia goes on to describe the case while the team starts the early stages of conducting a profile.

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says and the everyone disperses. Garcia walked up to me and handed me some documents from the case file.

“C’mon cupcake, we gotta do some preliminary work to get the case going much faster.” I followed her to what she called the “bat cave”. I scanned the small room and immediately fell in love. Computers and monitors littered almost every inch of the place. I saw a lot of colorful knickknacks displayed on one side of the desk, knowing already who they belonged to. The area was endearing and had a cozy feel to it.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. This place is a dream come true.” I am sure she can hear the awe in my voice.

“I know, right. Wait until you actually use it girlie, the framework on these things is out of this world.” I sat myself on a chair nearby and rolled in front of a screen.

“Alrighty. You can do some background checks on these girls while I gather more information from the police reports. Let me know if there are any commonalities among any of them. We’ll relay that info with the team.”

“Gotcha babe, I’ll have the information ready ASAP.” I responded, already typing away on the computer. I’m already starting to like it here.

*Later that day*

Garcia and I haven’t found much in common between the victims of the crimes, much to our dismay. I was left in the office to continue searching for important information on the girls while she went to fax some data to the precinct when the phone started to ring.

I quickly answered and put it on speaker. “(Y/L/N) at your humble service. How may I serve you?”

“Oh-uh is Garcia around” replied a high-pitched voice, which I immediately recognized as Reid. I don’t know whether or not I should be insulted that he wanted Penelope or pleased that I probably still have him flustered.

“She’s a bit pre-occupied at the moment. But rest assured I can find whatever you need Doc. Especially if you ask nicely.”

“Uh-I need you to pull up information on the mothers. We think they were all in the same sorority, however not necessarily at the same time. We need a list of all the members of the sorority from the time the mothers joined with a 3-year pre- and post-graduation.”

“No problemo sweetness. Anything else I can do for you? I have a lot of other services that can be helpful.” I stated, a teasing tone in my voice as I already set up my search.

“No-no, that’s all. Um thanks.” I can already picture the blush coating his cheeks as he stammered his response.

“Alright love, call me back if you need anything. Or if you change your mind.” I hung up the phone and started organizing the list in front of me.

 And from then on, I have enjoyed pretty much all the moments I had with the BAU. It took some time, but Spencer now has accepted and even returned my little flirtations.  We often get compared to Garcia and Morgan. But with a lot more sexual tension, at least on my end. I have to remind myself from time to time to calm down before I combust in the middle of a conference room or the bullpen. C'est la vie.

I made my way to the cavern of all things amazing and settled in front of my computers. Pen looked at me with a knowing expression on her face. “You’re gloomy.”

I pouted as I put my earpiece on. “I am not gloomy, I am horny,” I rebuked.

“How long has it been since you got some?”

“I’m not sure but it feels like I have not gotten any since the Stone Age,” I groaned out.

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell him how you feel,” she pointed her pink glittery pen in my direction, “I bet he would fuck you right here if you let him.”

And there goes my thought process, as always, overtaken by Spencer Reid. “Babe, please. This is not helping my situation.”

“Just telling you how it is.”

●●●

We have been sitting in front of these screens for hours. The team has made some progress but they’re missing an important piece to fit the puzzle. Garcia has been looking into the background of the neighbors when I heard a small stomach grumble coming from her direction. I let out a laugh as she huffed out “I am going to grab a snack from the breakroom, you want anything boo?”

“If it ain’t alcohol or chocolate, I don’t want it.”

“Noted,” she said as she left the room. I really hope she finds a couple of cupcakes or something.

I continued trying to get information on these missing kids when my headpiece played the Doctor Who theme song, informing me that Einstein was calling in. “Goddess of knowledge and wisdom at your disposal.”

“I didn’t know I had Athena at my fingertips.” How is it possible that nine words have short-circuited my brain just now? Is it the voice or the way he basically called me a Greek Deity? Probably both.

Of course I slyly responded, “Oh my Hephaestus, you have all of me at your fingertips.” I heard a chuckle and I immediately knew it belonged to Morgan. A slight blush crept onto my cheeks when I heard a random voice asking why Spencer called his girlfriend in the middle of a case.

“I should have mentioned that you were on speakerphone.”

“Naughty boy, you know I charge extra for groups.” Now this was followed by some choked out noises and a bunch of giggles. I could only assume the whole precinct was amused by my antics at this point. 

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“I can, for a price.”

“A price?”

“Yes, a price that I would inform you of in private. Now the reason for your call…” I drew out. Thank goodness Garcia wasn’t here. I don’t need her looking at me as if I am a phone sex operator.

“I need you to check foster children between the ages of four and eight within a 25-mile radius. We are looking for a homosexual couple that were looking to adopt but were rejected. The names should be on multiple applications among different sites. Let me know what you find.”

“I’ll have that information at the palm of your hands soon” Meanwhile, I am over here wishing that I was at the palm of his hands.

“Thank you, my Goddess” I can’t help but smile when he says things like this. Since when were the roles reversed in our friendship?

“Anything for a gorgeous worshipper. TTYL.”

Garcia chose that moment to walk back in while I had this silly grin on my face. She stared at me and I already knew what she was going to say.

“If you don’t have a piece of chocolate or a cocktail on you, I am not talking.”

All she did was laugh at me.

●●●

The team was able to find all four boys safely. The UnSubs were a male couple who wanted to adopt but kept facing discrimination against the agencies. It is a shame that they felt they had to resort to kidnapping in order to have a family.

Now Garcia and I are scanning the notes the team faxed to us earlier today. They informed us that they would be back here in half an hour or so.

“Shoot, I didn’t think it would take this long to scan these damn files.” Garcia murmured.  I looked over at her and saw a small stack of documents that still needed to be put into the system.

I walked over and grabbed the pile from her. “Go, I’ll take care of it from here doll.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad. You did your portion of the work already.”

“Don’t you have to be at the rehearsal in 20 minutes? How is the theater going to operate without their main lead?” I placed the documents on my side of the desk and moved to gather Garcia’s belongings.  I picked up her purse and jacket before handing it to her, quickly pushing her towards the door. “I got this, think of it as an IOU.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I owe you big. Thank you sugar, see you tomorrow.” Garcia hurriedly exited the door and headed towards the elevator. 

I looked towards the papers, a low groan leaving my mouth. The faster I go through this, the better.

●●●

I was just finished implementing all the documents into the computer when I heard a knock at the door. I turned around and saw Spencer’s head peeking through. “Evening handsome, to what do I owe this visit?”

“Garcia passed by me a while ago and informed me you were in here finishing some extra work. I wanted to check on you; see if you needed my help.”

“Thanks Doc, but you’re a few minutes too late. I already finished scanning the files. Besides, you’re not the best with technology, much less these computers.”

“Maybe not. But I am a fast learner and I pay close attention to detail.” Either my ears were playing a trick on me or Spencer’s voice lowered an octave or two.

I remembered what Penelope said earlier today and decided to just go for it. “I could collect on that price from earlier.” I leaned against the desk and stared into his eyes. C’mon Doc, pick up the hint. Rather, pick me up instead.

“Well I was thinking that I can get you dinner.” he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

That’s great, but not what I had in mind. “I was hoping for something else” I looked into his eyes, then slowly trailed my eyes downwards. Kiss me. Kiss me. Touch me. Lick me. Fuck me. Kiss me.

Unfortunately, Spencer is not a mind reader. He lowered his head and looked slightly dejected. “Oh well umm—would you prefer to go to a theater?” Oh Doc, you sexy, naïve, intelligent, innocent man. I guess if you want something you have to do it yourself.

I sat on the edge of my desk. “Come here Spencer.”

His head perked up, slightly intrigued since I rarely call him by his name. He walked to where I was sitting but there was still space between us.

“Closer, I don’t bite.” Unless you want me to.

He moved closer to me and I was able to rest my hands on his shoulders. Thankfully the height of the table let us be more at level with one another.

I made sure to look into his eyes as I said “I am going to kiss you. If that isn’t something you want, tell me now.”

He was speechless. His mouth was moving but no sounds came out. If the circumstances were different I would have appreciated seeing his rattled expression once more. I waited a few seconds, but he still has yet to say anything.

“Spen-mmh” before I knew it, his mouth was upon mine. He gently cradled my face as his lips moved against my own. My eyes closed as I felt nothing but bliss. As cliché as it sounds, I was in paradise because of this kiss alone.

His tongue peeked and swiped against my lower lip, trying to have a taste of me. I was more than happy to grant him entrance, a moan leaving my body as his tongue touched mine.

All parts of me were trying to feel him. I had one hand in his hair while the other grabbed onto the back of his shirt. My chest was pressed against his while my legs lazily wrapped around his midsection. His scent was intoxicating to me. It was a coffee-like smell as if he just walked out of a café. He tasted so sweet, all I wanted to do was keep his mouth on mine. But my body needed air so I slowly pulled away.

He tried to catch his breath as his forehead rested against mine. “So you don’t want dinner?”

“Doc the only thing I am hungry for right now is you. We’ll get food afterward, alright?” Spencer nodded his head while licking his lips. My eyes hungrily followed the action and I just had to get another taste. I pulled him towards me, his hands once again holding onto my face. He was much more dominant with this kiss, and I was more than willing to give him the control. His hands then trailed down to my hips and pulled me closer to his pelvis. I jerked against him and was rewarded with a groan.

He squeezed me tighter as his lips broke away from mine once more. He placed a peck on my lips, then my cheek before trailing down my neck. I felt my body heat up as I released a small moan. Fucking hell, he is going to be the death of me and we barely did anything.

Spencer started to lightly nibble on my neck when I pulled him back by his hair. “It is summer and I am not wearing a turtleneck in 80° weather. If you’re gonna give me some hickeys, they better be on my chest.” He murmured something that I couldn’t quite comprehend before undoing the buttons of my blouse.

Hell, I am not the only one who is gonna be undressed so I started unbuttoning his dress shirt as well. It was a race to see who would get the other’s shirt off first. Of course I lost because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. But when his warm lips kissed their way towards the middle of my cleavage, I felt like a fucking champion.

I tried my best to shimmy out of the sleeves of my blouse while Spencer attempted to take my bra off, his lips still leaving a love mark against my chest. Once we got rid of the shirt and the bra, his mouth immediately enveloped one of my nipples.

“Fuck” I yelped loudly, “a little warning next time Doc.”

“Sorry” he muttered as he continued to suck on my breast while palming the other between his dexterous fingers. That had to be the most insincere apology I have ever heard from him. An idea came across my head. I slowly removed his shirt, watching it pool on the floor. I then raked the nails of one hand across his chest while the other pulled against his hair. Hard. He retaliated by lightly biting my nipple. Fuck, the plan backfired. Abort mission, abort the damn mission.

Spencer let out a small chuckle as he pulled away from my breast, an audible pop leaving his mouth. My hands went to his face and I moved him up to look at me. His eyes were dilated and his mouth was swollen. His face was flush and he was taking deeper breaths than usual. He looked so beautiful like this.

He had a dorky smile on his face and I realized that I said the words out loud. I felt my face heat up fast and he swiftly commented “I’d never thought I’d see you be so thrown off because of me.”

He rested his hands against either side of the desk and just looked at me. “Shut up and kiss me.” I hissed, already missing the warmth of his skin against mine.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” he asked. I was about to reply when he interrupted “Do you want me to kiss you on your lips? Or maybe you want me back on those beautiful breasts of yours?”

Have mercy on me, I never believed Spencer Reid could make me so wet just with his words. Sure, I thought of it, but I didn’t believe it would happen to me.

“Maybe you want me to go lower. Should I place my lips on that pussy of yours?” Oh my fuck, I never want this moment to end. I nodded my head so quickly, I could have sworn I given myself whiplash.

“I want to hear you say it,” he breathed out.

“Yes, yes, please. I want you to eat my pussy. Please.” I begged. Dignity be damned.

“That’s my good girl” How is it possible that he went from the dorky adorable doctor to this assertive, stimulating specimen in a matter of minutes? I didn’t think he had a sensual bone in his body. But I am glad to be proven wrong.

Spencer lowered himself to his knees while I clumsily attempted to rid myself of my skirt and panties. I lifted my lower body up as he pulled the clothing off of me. Penelope would have a field day if she knew that I was sitting butt naked on the desk with Spencer Reid between my legs. Hell, I am having a field day knowing this.

Spencer, being the teasing bastard that he has been for the past few minutes, started kissing my legs first. “That’s not where I said I wanted you to kiss me” I huffed out.

“Hush” was all he said as he continued the slow trail up, making sure to alternate between each leg. I was already breathing as if I have ran a marathon, my patience was waning at this point. Finally, he made his way to where I needed him most. He put his hands on my thighs and pushed them further apart.

My hands landed on top of his head, playing with the curls. “You’re comfortable down there Doc?” I snickered, loving the sight of his head between my legs. All he did was nip my inner thigh harshly. I shrieked at the action. I’m starting to think this man has a tiny biting fetish.

I wasn’t ready for when his tongue parted my folds. I squeaked as he teasingly lapped the arousal that had formed the second he walked into the room. I tried rolling my hips but his hands made me stay put on the desk. I never knew he could hold me down like this. I couldn’t even be mad because the pleasure he was giving me was incredible.

Spencer continued to tease me, his tongue never going where I needed it most. He made sure to explore as much as possible as leisurely as possible. “Spencer, please” I cried out. He let out a small hum, the vibration causing a shiver to rack my body.  

His tongue finally entered me, much to my delight. No amount of imagination could have ever prepared me for the things this appendage can do to me. He continued this soft, flat movement that was driving me crazy. My hands tightened in his hair, hoping he would go a bit faster.

“You taste so good princess, I don’t want this to end.”

“That’s my Queen to you” I jested. He didn’t like that since he responded with a resounding smack against my outer thigh. Ouch, note to self, Spencer doesn’t like being teased during sexy times. Hmm. On second thought, continue to tease Spencer during sexy times.

I felt his finger probe my entrance, moving up and down before pushing inside of me. I let out a distressing whine as he started slowly moving his finger in and out of me, curling as he did so. His mouth was on my clit, sucking and kissing it as if he has done so all his life.

My body started heating up and trembling. I tried, and failed, to roll my hips against the movement. “Spe-Spencer” I wailed. He didn’t relent.

Spencer entered a second finger into me as his tongue gave small, flickering motions against my bundle of nerves. I had to move one hand to my mouth to prevent any loud noises from being heard outside the room. Shit, did we even lock the door?

That thought immediately left my mind as my core started to tighten. Spencer must have known that I was getting close to my orgasm because he moved his fingers more diligently within me. I felt his fingers curl as they pulled out, I felt his tongue lick thoroughly against my pearl, I felt my ecstasy rising within me. It took one more deep press of his fingers and a harsh suck for me to come all over his face. I bit down on my fingers as I moaned out loud.

“That was so much better then what I imagined” I panted out, the words barely coming out comprehensible. I had a giant smile decorating my face.

He pulled his face up, a smug grin gracing his face. “Is this what you were thinking about earlier this morning?” he taunted. I couldn’t even give him a smartass remark because I was too busy trying to come back to reality. He pulled his fingers out and held them in front of my face.

“Open” he ordered. I complied and he pushed his fingers inside of my mouth. “You look so pretty when you follow instructions well. See how good you taste.”

I pulled my head back, taking his fingers out of my mouth. “I bet I taste a lot better on that tongue of yours.”

He tangled his hand in my hair and pulled me to a kiss. I immediately opened and welcomed his tongue against mine. I was right, I do taste better on him. I let out a deep moan and pulled away far enough to gently bite down on his lower lip.

He looks at me, that devilish tongue of his running against his lower lip before entering my mouth once again. With his lips still on mine, he picked me up and move to sit on my desk chair. It was nothing short of a miracle that we managed not to fall on the floor.

I placed my hand on top of his erection through his slacks and he drew a quick intake of breath. I started palming him as I grinded myself against him. I pulled back as I whispered, “I need you, Spencer”.

“Y’know this is the most I have heard you call me by my name in any given moment we have been together.” He unzipped his slacks and pushed down his pants and boxers as much as he could with me on top of him.

I looked down, finally being able to see his cock. Is it possible to get aroused further through sight alone? Because I think I creamed myself again. God, I wish I could show him my oral skills, but we’ll save that for another time.

“Would you rather I call you by something else?” I asked, attempting to move my lower body so that it can align with his cock. I say attempt because Spencer currently had his hands on my thighs again.

“No, I like the way my name sounds as you moan it out. Don’t hide your pleasure from me this time.” He maneuvered my legs to rest upon the armrest on either side of the chair, leaving my pussy wide open for him.

I gave him an incredulous look. “Are you forgetting that we are at work?”

He started rubbing the tip of his cock against my lower lips. “I didn’t forget. I just don’t fucking care.” And with that, he slowly penetrated me.

We both groaned at the intrusion. He gradually started entering me as I adjusted to his size. Inch by inch, he gave me all of him until he was buried to the hilt.  I took a moment to savor the feel of Spencer inside of me before I started grinding against him. He took that as a hint to begin thrusting.

He started slow, taking his time and having us enjoy the feeling of one another. “Your cunt is so fucking tight” he hissed into my ear and I gave out a loud whine.

“That’s because you have such a big cock, Doc” I managed to moan out. He smacked my ass before grabbing each cheek tightly in his hands. “I want you to call me by my name” he grits out.

“Spencer, baby please give it to me. I’ve been waiting for this Spencer, I’ve been waiting for you.” He started kissing my neck once more and my eyes started to closed. I wanted to focus on the pleasure he was giving me.

He tightly grabbed me, moving my hips along with his thrusts. I was close to being pushed over the edge once more. The only sounds occupying the room were our moans and skin smacking against skin as we chased our pleasure.

“Open your mouth” I heard him say. I opened my eyes to see his thumb positioned over my lips. I let out a small whimper as I sucked his digit earnestly. I made sure to coat his finger with a lot of saliva, knowing exactly what he was going to do with it when it was out of my mouth.

He pulled his thumb out and immediately placed it on my clit. I gave out an embarrassingly loud sob as he started moving his finger against me in soft circular motions. I placed my lips on his neck, trying to muffle the noise coming out of my throat.

Spencer quickly grabbed my hair and pulled my head away as he started to slow down. “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to hear your pleasure?” In that moment, Spencer controlled my mind, body, and soul.

“I’m sorry Spencer. I’ll be your good girl, please don’t stop.” He returned back to the previous pace and thrust into me even harder. We both started chasing our orgasms, not being able to hold back any longer. He was pounding into me relentlessly and I was loving it. I am sure that I am going to be sore after this.

“Come for me (Y/N), I want to feel this tight cunt squeeze around my cock.” Say less, I am already ahead of you. My eyes were rolling to the back of my head and I felt my pussy pulsate around him. With one last motion against his thumb, I cried out his name multiple times as I climaxed.  

Spencer whispered my name as he continued pushing into me, chasing his own orgasm. He thrust a couple more times before quickly pulling out, spilling himself over my stomach. I panted as I laid my head against the crook of his neck. His fingers thrummed a slow rhythm upon my lower back.

“So about that dinner... do you want to get Indian food?”

“Yeah, I can go for some samosas right now.”

[snowdice]

A Twist of Fate {Part 6} (Everything’s Fine Universe) [Dice Roll 13]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remus & Janus & Patton, Remy & Patton

Characters: Janus, Patton, Remus, Remy

Summary: It wasn’t unheard of for people to gain soulmarks later in life, but it was quite rare. Usually fate was set in stone. Yet, when one’s fated death was prevented, fate had to make some adjustments.

As he fell, Patton may have felt a strange prickling feeling across his skin. He however, was not paying attention to that, far too distracted and confused. All he knew was that by the time he hit the ground, both of his hands were covered with marks. Later when he went home he’d notice even more in other places, but the ones he noticed when he hit the ground were the obvious ones on his hands.

Then, there was Janus. Janus had only one soulmark on his body. At least. He had only one soulmark that hadn’t been burnt off years ago. When he landed on top of Patton, he did not notice the marks that suddenly appeared on his arms and face. Patton did, however, notice two little designs appear on him: one along the side of his nose and the other right below the scaring on the left side of his face. The second was already colored in by the time they hit the ground.

Universe: Soulmate AU and Superhero AU

Genre: The Dice Roll said fluff and it is… but… it’s more fluff and angst, hurt/comfort-ish

Notes: Child abuse, homelessness, malnutrition, acid burns, platonic soulmates, car accidents mentioned, blood mentioned, death mentioned, chronic pain, abnormal growth

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Patton hurried to his front door, his mind frantically trying to figure out what he was going to say to Remy when he opened it. Yesterday, Remy had been his only soulmate, but now that was very much not the case. Patton wouldn’t know how to begin to explain the change even if he didn’t have two easily spooked children in his kitchen right now. Even if he knew where to start, he wouldn’t be able to explain without bringing up Evan and Jimmy, and their trust in him was so fragile, he feared even saying their names aloud to someone they did not know would shatter it forever.

He wanted to tell Remy though, if for no other reason than to have someone he knew and trusted to talk to about it. Patton had done his best to take everything in stride, but his head had been spinning since yesterday. Part of him thought he really had been hit by that car, and he was now having a vivid hallucination as he died. Maybe his mind was recalling the conversation about wanting children he’d had earlier in the day and was spinning a web of dreams before his consciousness faded away.

…Reality had yet to truly sink in even after a night’s rest.

He’d stayed up later than usual after he’d managed to finally find a sleeping arrangement that the children would tolerate. He’d taken the time to find and categorize every single new soulmark on his body before finally letting himself collapse into bed long past midnight. Considering what he’d found, it still took him a while to calm his brain enough to sleep.

There were, of course, the first ones he’d noticed on his hands. Three of these were in the middle on the back of his hands. Evan’s stood alone on his left hand. It was slightly towards the wrist, but still firmly in the territory that meant it was a parent-child relationship. Jimmy’s and one of the unfilled in soulmarks were on his right hand. They were so close together than someone might mistake them for one soulmark if one was not filled in and the other not.

The other two on his hands drifted more towards the side of each hand, close to, but slightly out of the range of a parental soulmark. When he cross referenced it with a diagram on the internet, he found it was more than likely a very close uncle like relationship. He wondered if, or well, hoped that those might match up with Remy’s two parental ones. It would be what made the most sense, after all.

That was five new soulmarks, but that was not where the surprises ended. When he’d finally gotten a chance to look at himself in the mirror, he’d been shocked to find a little crescent moon shaped outline on his neck. That was. Well. Patton had not expected that. It made sense, he guessed, that it was on his neck. He had definitely not expected a romantic soulmark which would be more towards the chest. He’d never really had those feelings, after all. On his neck meant it was a platonic soulmate, but not exactly friends. They probably shared the children as soulmates, at least the three definitely parental soulmates. It was probably a good thing considering all of the children Patton was suddenly responsible for. Or at least… he hoped he would be responsible for.

Those six had been startling enough, but he’d also gotten a few more. His back was now filled with friendship soulmarks that had not been there before. There were 5 more, in fact, putting him at a grand total of 14 soulmarks.

He was considered a Well-Loved now. He was an Unloved yesterday and a Well-Loved today. It was wonderful, but also strange and a bit terrifying. How was he supposed to explain this all to Remy, the one soulmate he’d always had, without even being able to mention the two new ones he’d found by name?

He still had not found an answer to that question even as he opened his front door.

“Sup babe,” Remy greeted immediately. “I brought coffee, but I already drank mine, so I’m going to go invade your kitchen. Kk? Here’s yours.”  Patton took the coffee cup automatically as it was thrust at him. Remy then went to push past Patton into his house, but Patton quickly stepped in his way. Remy’s nose scrunched up in confusion.

“I’m actually busy today,” Patton lied. “I forgot. I have plans. Could we reschedule?”

“Busy?” Remy asked. His voice was skeptical. Patton wasn’t a good liar in general, let alone to the man who had known him since elementary school. “Busy with what?”

“Uh, just… stuff.”

Remy studied him for a long moment, his gaze somehow sharp even though Patton could not see his eyes. “What’s that on your neck?” he asked. “‘Cause it looks like some sort of weird ass hickey, but you’re ace as hell.”

Patton quickly slapped a hand over the soulmark there. “It’s uh, nothing,” Patton said.

“…What’s on your hand?”

Remy reached for Patton, but Patton jerked away, tilting his head to hide the soulmark on his neck and hiding both hands behind his back, almost spilling coffee on himself in his haste. “It’s nothing. Sorry, I can’t spend the day with you today. Can you leave?”

Patton saw Remy’s eyebrows pop up over his sunglasses. “Gurl what is wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” Patton promised, “but I need you to leave. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Uh huh…” Remy did not seem convinced. In fact, despite his standard cool demeanor, he looked rather alarmed.

“Oh god,” Evan groaned from behind Patton, “just let him in.”

Patton turned back to look at him. “But…”

“You’re a shit liar, and he’s going to call the cops on us if you don’t,” Evan said. Patton really wanted to correct the swearing but held his tongue. “Just… let him in.”

Patton turned to look at Remy who was giving him that slightly to the left head tilt that meant ‘I’m squinting at you in confusion.’

“Why don’t you come in?” Patton said. He stepped out of the way to let Remy walk into the house and closed the door behind him. They all awkwardly stared at each other for a long moment. “Let’s…” Patton finally said. “Living room. If that’s okay with everyone?”

Evan didn’t respond but stalked back towards the kitchen. Patton assumed he was getting Jimmy. That or bolting.

“What the hell, Pat?” Remy asked, voice low.

“They’re my soulmates, apparently,” Patton said. He waved the hand with Evan’s soulmark at him.

“You’re what?” Remy asked, then, “… ‘They’?”

Patton reached over to grab his hand, giving it a little squeeze, more for his benefit than for Remy’s. “I’m just as confused by it as you,” he said. “I got new soulmarks yesterday and two of them are already filled in.” He pulled him towards the living room. “It’s not just those two either. There’s… there’s a lot Rem.”

Remy took the coffee out of Patton’s hand and set it and his own empty cup on the coffee table so he could study both of Patton’s hands. One of his thumbs rubbed gently over one of the marks on the side of his hand. Had he done the math too? Patton had to wonder. Had he wondered why Patton did not at least have soulmarks for Remy’s children? Patton had never dared to bring it up, but Remy wasn’t stupid. Did he see the same thing in those two soulmarks as Patton?

“And some on my back too,” Patton told him.

“Not to mention…” Remy gestured at his neck. Patton put his hand over the mark, blushing a bit.

“Yeah…”

Just then, Evan and Jimmy entered from the kitchen. Jimmy looked at Remy and instantly opened his mouth. “Oh! I know you.”

Patton glanced over at Remy, but he seemed just as confused as Patton, so he turned back to the kids. Evan had gone tense all of a sudden as though readying to run. His hand dug into Jimmy’s shoulder and Jimmy’s head jerked to him. “No, something happened to him. He didn’t do something.” That confounding statement made Evan slowly relax, but he still looked over at Remy and Patton leerily. Jimmy did not seem to have the same hesitancy as Evan. He shook off the grip on his shoulder and waved. “Hi! You’re a doctor!”

Remy opened his mouth slightly. “…Well,” he said slowly. “I’m currently in medical school.

“…That’s what I meant.”

Patton watched curiously as Evan’s eyes slipped closed in frustration. Something was… off with Jimmy. Patton could not quite figure out what it was yet, but clearly something about him was being hidden, and Evan knew what it was. Patton had some suspicions, but like his knowledge that Evan was shapeshifter, he kept them to himself.

“Uh huh,” Remy replied.

“Why don’t we all take a seat?” Patton suggested. Remy looked over at him and then sat on one of the armchairs next to the couch. Patton sat on the couch next to him a moment later. Jimmy bounced over to the couch too and with no hesitation, he climbed into Patton’s lap. Patton put a hand on the boy’s head, heart in his throat. He did not dare to hug him though, as Evan was already shifting nervously without Patton effectively trapping Jimmy. Evan was left the only one standing, and he did not seem inclined to rectify this. Patton did not comment.

“So, you three got new soulmarks yesterday?” Remy asked.

“Uh huh,” Jimmy answered for them all. He curled one of his fists into Patton’s sweater seemingly not even aware of what he was doing.

“I’m not quite sure how,” Patton said. “I didn’t even know that could happen.”

“Usually it can’t,” Remy replied. “There are only two documented cases in the last century. We learned about them a few weeks ago. One was a polio patient for his doctor in the 1950s, and the other was only a year ago in New York, I think. Someone born with no soulmarks gained one randomly. In both cases, they only gained one. I haven’t even heard of any instances where multiple were gained and why it happened is greatly debated, but there aren’t enough cases to prove any sort of pattern.” Remy looked at him curiously. “Was there anything that happened to you that may have caused it?”

Patton hesitated. There was a clear answer to that question, but it wasn’t exactly easy to tell your best friend that you’d almost di-”

“He almost got smushed by a car!” Jimmy informed him. “Evan ran across the street and shoved him out of the way, but he was going to bleed out in the street and die.”

Patton winced as Remy looked at him, expression unreadable. “You were going to die?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Patton replied softly.

He could tell that the thought badly hurt Remy, but he seemed to shove the pain down. “And being saved caused the new soulmarks?” he asked.

“They were there by the time we hit the ground,” Patton confirmed.

“I guess that makes sense,” Remy said after a moment of thought.

“It does?” Patton asked.

“If you suddenly weren’t going to die when you were before, it makes sense you’d gain soulmarks.”

There was silence as the room absorbed that.

“What’s your name?” Jimmy asked suddenly, voice lighter than it probably should have been considering the previous topic. “Why are you a doctor? Why are you wearing sunglasses inside? Why are you carrying around an empty coffee cup? Are you going to refill it or just throw it away? Did you know that 16,009,402,282 disposable coffee cups were thrown away last year? Wha-”

“Whoa, whoa, one at a time kid,” Remy said, his mouth edging up into a smile. “My old brain can only process so much at once. My name is Remy.”

Jimmy frowned. “Not being able to remember many things is probably bad if you’re going to be a doctor,” he said.

Patton couldn’t help but laugh and pat his head.

“I guess you’re right,” Remy agreed. “I’ll have to work on that. What’s your name?”

“I’m, uh, Jimmy,” he said. “Like I said, that’s Evan. He’s not going to introduce himself because he’s crabby.”

“I see,” Remy replied, lips twitching. “That’s okay. He can be crabby if he wants to be. I’m sure he’s a little stressed out about everything.”

“He’s stressed out about a lot of things all the time,” Jimmy confirmed. Patton glanced up at Evan to see he was very displeased with this statement, but he kept his mouth sealed shut. “Oh!" Jimmy said, bounding a couple of times in Patton’s lap. “You should do a doctor thing to Evan!”

“Jimmy,” Evan hissed.

Jimmy didn’t even blink at the vehemence of Evan’s tone. “His bones are growing in wrong,” he declared, matter-of-factly, “and he’s bad at being warm enough. Like a snake!” Patton internally winced. He wasn’t an expert, but that sounded like it was probably the result of shapeshifting too much and for too long. “Plus, he has bad burns on his back that are healed but still hurt him.”

“Traitor,” Evan accused hotly. He looked like he wanted to escape the room, but he obviously wouldn’t leave without Jimmy, and Jimmy was in Patton’s lap. Patton wondered if that was on purpose.

Jimmy frowned at him. “You need to see a doctor,” he insisted. “You almost pass out every day!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

They stared at each other for a few long moments.

“I’m not going to make anyone accept medical care they don’t want,” Remy said evenly. Evan looked at him. He was pretty twitchy and looked like a trapped animal. “If you want me to look at you, I will, but I won’t make you even if you are sick, and you can stop me at any time.”

“Really?” Evan asked suspiciously.

“Really,” Remy confirmed. “It’s an open offer, but we can stop talking about it if that would make you more comfortable.”

Jimmy was frowning at Evan, but Evan just glared back. The younger boy seemed to shrug it off after a moment. He tilted his head back to look at Patton. “Can we make the cookies now?” he asked.

Patton laughed. “Sure,” he agreed. “We can make the cookies.”

 Evan slowly seemed to relax just a bit as the day went by. As promised, Patton made double chocolate chip cookies with the help… well ‘help’ of both Jimmy and Remy. Jimmy was a bit too enthusiastic and often almost knocked things over. He also had… interesting ideas for additions to the batter that he did not always remember to ask for permission for before putting them in the bowl. Remy, on the other hand knew exactly what he was doing when he tried poring coffee into the batter, and Patton was very unhappy with the fact that he was trying to caffeinate Jimmy of all people. Evan ended up being the most help despite insisting on just observing. He warned Patton about almost all of the potential disasters before they were put into the batter.

After the cookies were put in the oven, they went with Remy and Patton’s original plan of watching movies, though they chose more age appropriate ones than the planned romantic comedies. If Patton was being honest, he actually preferred the Disney movies over whatever Remy would have inevitably chosen.

Despite there not being any caffeine in the cookies they ate, Jimmy insisted upon bouncing between sitting on the couch with Patton and in the recliner with Evan every 30 minutes or so. This had been going on for 2¼ movies and didn’t show signs of stopping. He’d just jumped onto Patton without warning, causing Patton to jerk and accidently knock over a bowl of popcorn into Remy’s lap. Remy just laughed, looking over at Jimmy with a smile and that’s when Evan broke.

“What would you do?” he asked.

Remy blinked over at him, one hand still distractedly brushing popcorn off of his front.

“In the doctor thing or whatever,” Evan clarified.

Remy didn’t move from his seat in the armchair next to the couch, instead just folding his hands together over the popcorn in his lap. He calmly explained from across the living room with Lady and the Tramp running in the background every part of a normal doctor’s check-up. Then he explained about wanting to take a look at his burn scars as well as do a couple of X-rays.

“How would you do the X-rays?” he asked suspiciously.

Remy smiled slightly and tapped the edges of his sunglasses. “There’s a reason I wear sunglasses inside,” he said.

“You have a superpower,” Evan said, something odd in his tone.

“X-ray vision. Believe it or not, that’s not why I’m becoming a doctor.”

Evan bit his lip. “You can… do the first few things. We’ll see about the rest.”

“Alright kid,” Remy agreed easily. “Pat, you have a thermometer and blood pressure cuff, yeah? Can you get those for me?”

“Sure,” Patton said, gently pushing Jimmy off of his lap and walking to the main bathroom to grab what Remy had requested. When he returned, Remy had stood and crossed to kneel next to Evan’s chair and Jimmy had abandoned the couch to sit on his armrest.

“There was also a stethoscope,” Patton said. He set the instruments on the side table and then quickly backed off to give Evan some space and sat on the couch again.

“Thanks Pat,” Remy said without looking at him. He was careful not to crowd Evan, giving him the thermometer to take his temperature himself and asking him to tilt his head so he could flash a penlight in his ear instead of guiding it to the side himself like doctors usually did when Patton got checkups. Evan even allowed him to put the stethoscope under his shirt to listen to his breathing.

“Okay,” Remy said once he was done with that. “We’re done with that part. Up to you if you want me to do the rest.”

Evan hesitated. He glanced over at Jimmy. “Fine,” he said after a moment. “You can look at the burns.

“You’ll have to take your shirt off,” Remy said.

“Right.”

“Would you like a blanket to cover up the rest of you?” Patton offered.

Evan glanced at him. “I… Yes, I would.”

Patton nodded and grabbed one of the blankets on the back of the couch. He walked it over to him and handed it over. He took it and wrapped it around himself before starting to squirm out of his shirt from underneath it.

“Okay,” he said after he was finished. Patton could see the stress at his vulnerability growing in his eyes.

“It’s on your back, right?” Remy asked, his voice gentle.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Alright. I’m going to touch your shoulder,” Remy soothed. When Evan nodded, he reached out and slowly pulled the blanket away from his back. The acid burn scar there was much worse than the one on his face, deeper and more widespread. It made Patton’s chest ache to think about the pain that injury had caused when it had happened, especially if it was bad enough that it still hurt him now. “Okay?” Remy made sure.

“Yeah,” Evan answered.

Remy nodded and leaned forward, his fingertips just brushing the skin on the child’s back. The second their skin touched, they both jumped. “Interesting,” Remy said, surprised.

Patton’s eyes were glued on what had startled them both. A soulmark had filled in on Evan’s back right in the middle of the deepest part of the burn. It looked like nothing Patton had ever seen before. Before he and Remy had touched, Patton hadn’t been able to see that there had ever been a soulmark there. Whatever had been used across his shoulders had seemingly completely erased it, but now there was an emerald blot of color, twisted and distorted by the burn, but still definitely there. Whatever shape it was meant to be before was indiscernible, but the way the color subtlety popped out against his dark skin was still incredibly beautiful.

“I…” Evan twisted around to try to look at the soulmark in confusion, “didn’t know you could get a soulmark that was burnt off.”

“You can’t,” Remy said. He squinted at Evan and then at Patton, “but I guess you’re weird kid.”

Evan’s eyes flickered up to him. “You’re the other half of this equation,” he pointed out, “so what does that make you?”

“Eh,” Remy replied with a smile. “I already knew I was weird.”

Evan smiled tentatively back. He seemed to be calmed by the fact that Remy was his soulmate, contrary to how he’d felt when he’d learned Patton was his soulmate. Patton was a bit surprised, but he guessed it made sense considering a friendship soulmark didn’t give Remy any legal rights to him unlike a parental one. His fear was about control, Patton had surmised by the way he’d acted and the things he’d said, about autonomy. He felt Patton was a threat to that, but Remy was not one.

“I’m going to continue looking, okay?” Remy said, laying a hand on his shoulder again. Evan allowed it and Remy kept looking at the burns through his glasses still. He asked questions about how much and when they hurt, and then sat back after a few minutes. “How about the X-rays.”

Evan took a breath. “Yeah, why not?”

Remy nodded and took off his sunglasses. He spent a few minutes looking at Evan, asking him to move into certain positions every so often. Eventually he put the sunglasses back on and sat back.

“I’m going to be straight with you kid,” Remy finally said. “Are you a shapeshifter?” The tension that had left him after learning Remy was his soulmate returned full force. “It’s alright if you are,” Remy placated. “I won’t do anything or tell anyone outside of this room, but I haven’t heard much about impaired thermoregulation in anyone without a brain or spine injury unless they were shapeshifters. That combined with your bone growth irregularity imply you’ve been using shape-shifting too much.”

Evan did not seem inclined to answer, his eyes on his knees. Jimmy did not have the same reluctance. “Yes, he is,” Jimmy said.

“You’re a dick, Jimmy,” Evan grumbled.

“You probably shouldn’t teach him that,” Patton tried.

“He taught me most of it,” Evan replied with an eyeroll.

“I know all of the bad words!” Jimmy declared, cheerfully. He held up a finger as though starting to count. “Cu-”

“No, no,” Patton quickly cut him off. “I believe you.”

Evan seemed amused at least, his mind evidently taken off his powers for the moment.

Remy snorted a bit himself. “You are a character, aren’t you?” he asked.

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Evan said.

Remy reached out to pat Jimmy on the head, and really Patton shouldn’t have been surprised when they both jolted a bit.

“Cool!” Jimmy enthused. “I have a doctor soulmate. Can you X-ray me, like with a real X-ray machine not with your weird eyes? I want to see my insides! Then can you label all of my bones for me?!”

Remy snorted. “I reiterate: a character.”

“I don’t know what ‘reiterate’ means!” Jimmy declared proudly.

“Say something again,” Remy informed him. He glanced down at his arm. “Huh,” he said. “That one wasn’t there yesterday,” he said. There was one on the back of his hand almost at his wrist, meaning it was somewhere between an older brother and an uncle relationship. Jimmy likely had one higher on his arm.

“You didn’t notice?” Patton asked.

“Bitch please,” Remy waved him off. “I woke up 5 minutes before I had to leave for my exam and came right here.”

“Remy, can you please not…”

“He almost said the ‘c’ word Patty. I think they’re a lost cause.”

Patton frowned, unhappily, but decided to let it slide for now.

Remy turned back to Evan, still smiling softly. “So,” he said. “I’m guessing you’ve been using your shapeshifting a lot.”

Evan nodded.

“Well, doctors typically recommend that people don’t shapeshift much until their around 14,” Remy informed him. “Mostly because overextending it can cause some problems. How old are you?”

“Twelve,” Evan answered after a beat of hesitation.

“Alright,” Remy said. “That’s a little bit young… and I can tell you’ve been doing it for a while. You’ve honestly messed up a bit of your growth process.”

Evan looked at his lap, not saying anything.

“I don’t blame you,” Remy said. “I don’t think you probably wanted to do all of that, which means you probably had to. You’re obviously a survivor, but it does pose some issues moving forward.”

“So, should he try to stop shapeshifting?” Patton asked.

“It would actually be worse if he doesn’t use it at all at this point,” Remy replied. He turned to Evan who was still not looking at him. “There are exercises I can give you. For now, you should only do those twice a day and no other shapeshifting. After a couple of weeks, you can start using it a bit outside of that, but no full shifts and not for more than a few minutes at a time. That should get your body heat to regulate more normally.”

Evan did not look happy with this prospect. “I’ll try,” he said dubiously.

“I guess that’s all I can really ask,” Remy said with a sigh. “The bone growth would take more to fix. More physical therapy with your shape shifting as well as without. Some of it’s probably permanent damage.”

Evan shrugged. “I’d figured,” he said a bit bitterly.

“It will be alright though,” Remy assured, putting his hand on Evan’s knee.

Evan looked up at him and Patton could see exactly what he was thinking. The being able to not shapeshift at all for two weeks. The extended physical therapy necessary to even start to fix the bone growth irregularities. Those things depended on having somewhere safe to do so. It depended on staying with Patton, and Evan still wasn’t sold on that.

“Of course,” Evan said, and Patton could tell he was lying.

Patton would need to do his best to convince him to stay. A lot more was on the line than he’d thought.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 7

[bubblyani]

Back for Good

(Jim Davis x Reader)

A Jim Davis One Shot

Movie: Harsh Times (2005) by David Ayer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Alcohol use, Swearing,  Violence and Sexual Content

Word Count: 9k+

Summary: Your spirits are lifted when your older boyfriend Jim Davis returns from the Army for good. As the lovers passionately reunite, you begin to reminisce the first encounter, and the unforgettable event that sealed your fate with Jim, possibly forever.

Author’s Note: One of the fantastic Balehead Accounts on Instagram once posted a photo of Jim Davis with a caption more so along the lines of “…Older boyfriend Jim visiting you at College…”. It was too irresistible to ignore. So this story was born. @tammykelly You are an angel to even show some enthusiasm towards this, even before I started, Thank you for the encouragement ! Hope y’all enjoy!

P.S: If anyone want to be tagged in specific Bale! Character fics please do let me know. And if you wanna be removed from anything NOT BATMAN, please feel free to let me know. I understand completely. 

Three.

It costed three people. Merely three for this nightmare scenario to enter reality.

A tall young man panted fast, his right hand assuming full responsibility for the broken bottle, not to mention the intense bleeding that resulted from it. All the while he stared down at his finished product: a much younger man. He watched the figure groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; as a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head as well, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement. Only in that moment, realization and bitter reality coupled up to surprise the standing man, with a sucker punch.

Which was transparent enough for the young woman beside them, the witness. Violence, Danger, her trembling heart sensed it all. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, never did she flinch. Never did her heart consider retracting from him. On the contrary, she was compelled to trust him even further.

Especially when she sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go”

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

 (Present)      

The dusky skies appeared just as serene over South Central Los Angeles as anywhere else in the country, filtering over the streets and the neighborhoods. Cruising through in favorable speed, Mike Alonzo finally took his eyes off the road, permitting them to land on the tall, young man sitting beside him on the passenger seat: his best friend, Jim Davis.

His downcast expression was evident, with his tall frame sunken into the seat. He stared right ahead, while he sipped his bottle of beer in his suit. This posture was nothing short of a surprise for Mike to glance upon. If he had squinted his eyes, he swore he could imagine Jim as the rebellious teenager he once was. Only with a new buzz cut. Otherwise, it seemed that nothing had really changed.

Except it had. Older and forced to be responsible, they were facing times considered very harsh. And Jim just had a taste of it.

“Sorry, dude”

Mike began, looking back at the road. Shaking his head with disbelief, Jim sat up in slow motion as his teeth began to grind.

“Man! Fuck…this...shit!!”

Jim drawled with disappointment, enunciating every word whilst holding up a piece of paper, “I’m so done with this cop hate bullshit!” He added, taking another sip of alcohol. Mike nodded:

“Yeah, dawg. Forget about that! ” He smiled, smacking his friend on his shoulder in a playful demeanor, “Hey, Syl is cooking tonight…You wanna join us, bro?”

The possibility of his girlfriend Sylvia agreeing to this, was at an all time low. Mike was well aware. Yet, he was certain it was a question worth posing to his friend in need.

“Nah, man! I got plans”

Hitting the brakes in front of the stop lights, Mike looked at his friend again with surprise, “Yeah?” He inquired, looking quite pleased. Finally flashing a proud smile, Jim nodded:

“Yep! Gonna go see my woman soon…” he answered. Eyes widening seemed appropriate for Mike at that very moment.

“Yo, No shit!” Mike cried out with excitement, finally stepping on the gas, “The chick from UCLA*? You…you still with her?” He inquired.

“Yeah, Homie! ”

“Dawg!…” laughing with sheer amazement, Mike looked at Jim, “I’m impressed…really” he added, proceeding to chuckle, “Look ‘atchu…my boi Jim....going steady with the fine ass college chick…”

“Whoo!” With his soul finally returning to his body,  Jim howled, “Finer than fine, dawg!”

“Hell yeah!”

Given the state of hyped energy that erupted in the car between the two young men, it would be nearly impossible to guess how sombre it was just before. “So…so…” Mike continued, holding on to the wheel as they kept driving, “… where you gon’meet?”

“Well…actually…” Jim looked at him, licking his lips, “….it’s a surprise” he added with a playful smirk. To which Mike could not help but laugh, “What?” Mike paused, “You didn’t tell her you’re back for good?”

Seeing his friend shake his head like a naughty schoolboy forced him to laugh harder, “Ohohoho!! this is gon be one hell of a reunion, dawg” He added with sheer enthusiasm, “But seriously though, she’s a real good one too, bro…” Mike opinionated, as soon as his laughter died down, “ I mean, even Syl liked her”

“Shit! For real?”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Mike answered immediately,  “And you know Syl, she ain’t easy to please”

Gulping down the remnants of the bottle, Jim exhaled and stared out through the window, “Shit man!” He exclaimed, “I’m really gonna see her again, huh?”

With his tone growing deeper, his eyes began to burn with a flame that could only be categorized as lustful. Sensing the vibe that did not seem so new, Mike chuckled:

“Oh yeah! My homie’s gonna get it tonight! Salud*”

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

The buzz, the chatter of young adults was consistent in the hallway outside. It served as background noise when the door of the toilet cubicle burst wide open, spitting a rather young woman out of it with haste. Only then did the mirror managed to identify her: You.

With your hand clutching on to a bra, you let out a relieved sigh. For within a few seconds, your body experienced a new form of liberation. And you managed to savor it on your own in a public ladies washroom. Wearing a soft smile that was easily reflected in the mirror, you stuffed the piece of lingerie into your shoulder handbag.

“Seriously?”

You jumped with a yelp. Being so wrapped around in your own thoughts, you did not even notice Yara, your friend standing there. With her arms folded and eyebrows raised, it was clear that her face was rife with judgement.

“What?” You inquired breathlessly, “Auntie Flo* is about to visit…and the twins were just swelling to …get some parole time” you added with a playful smirk, pointing at your chest with no shame. The curves of your now-freed bosom seemed more visible through your cardigan top, “And fuck! it feels so good” you exclaimed, as you washed your hands. Yara however, scoffed with amusement:

“So you’re saying you were squirming in your seat the whole time to let the puppies out?”

“What? I had to pee too!”

“Well, You could have just left right then!” She insisted with a seeming annoyance, as you grabbed a tissue.

“…and miss Mr. Linney’s Final Notes? Uh uh! No way, bitch!” You waved your index finger with disapproval as you both exited. Students had flooded the hallway by then. Evening lectures at UCLA finally had drawn to a close, and Friday night was about to make its entrance. Youth in all shapes and colors, gathered in bunches all over the campus area, even beside the beautifully lit Royce Hall. Suffice to say, all were relieved to have some time off in the weekend.

“So…you coming, right?”

You looked at Yara upon her casual inquiry with confusion, “For what?”. Scoffing again, this time in disbelief, Yara's eyes widened looking at you: “Dinner?…tonight?”

She stressed, taking a step out of the campus building, “Last week you promised you’ll join me and Chase” with her arms folded and foot tapping on the ground in pure restlessness, she was a clear visual of a loanshark. However, that impatience left her system the moment her eyes fell behind you,“…and speaking of Chase…Baby!”

With her face lit up, her tone grew affectionate as Chase, her boyfriend rushed over to her.

“ ‘sup babe!” The tall, young blonde greeted, pulling his ebony goddess of a girlfriend for a passionate kiss.

Folding your arms, you could not help but avert your eyes. All the while you drew circles with your foot on the ground. Chase and Yara’s relationship certainly was a refreshing one to glimpse upon in the campus premises. You approved of it with sincerity, even when you looked away in awkwardness. It was not on spite. Truthfully, PDA was nothing you disapproved of. You were certainly not envious of the joy they possessed as their lips played with one another, quite similarly to a steamy MTV music video. You merely looked away, for any display of affection was a sheer reminder of him.

It had been months since you last saw him, possibly 6. And constant communication was not exactly convenient for him. Not in his situation. Was he alive and happy? The sheer reminder of gunshots and helicopter whirring forced your heart to race, which was nothing short of new. Granted, you had learnt to ‘compartmentalize’, a term you recently came to knowledge in your psych minor class. Yet, you were young and only human to have those concerns return to haunt you even for a few seconds. The sound of Yara and Chase’s lips smacking urged you to look up. Finally, you thought.

“So?” Yara inquired, casually wiping the smudged lipstick off her face, “You coming?”

Carefree, yet extremely inconsiderate, that was what she exuded. A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach. For oddly enough, the sight of the happy couple managed to drain your energy out tonight. You longed to run away.

“Honestly…” you began with a sigh, “I don’t really feel so good tonigh-”

“¿Qué pasa, guapa?”

   What’s up, gorgeous?  

That voice. That deep, spine tingling tone was a reminder of your mere existence. The tone that tempted every hair in your body to stand at attention. Turning around in a flash, you covered your mouth, shocked to find the person you prayed to see all this time.

“JIM??” You cried out in a muffled tone, “Oh my GOD!!-”

Squealing in pure joy, you sprinted towards Jim Davis before jumping into his arms. Seemingly extremely pleased, Jim let out a hearty laughter. Suddenly the energy you were drained had returned in the form of a shot of adrenaline when he picked you up and spun you around, kissing you without hesitation. And you swore the feel of his lips on yours added a couple of years into your life.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me you were coming back so soon” Breathless, you pointed out when he finally put you down.

“Well, I’m back for good, baby” Jim replied, extending his arms outward with pride. Your eyes widened: “What? You serious?”

“Yep…” he grinned nodding, “Honorably discharged…and all yours”

You sensed his tone morph into a low purr the moment he pulled you close to him. And you would be lying if that did not fill your stomach with butterflies. After ages.

“Umm….”

Yara’s voice emerged. You and Jim turned back, to find her and Chase appearing the most confused, “…you mind telling us who this is…?” She inquired with raised eyebrows.

Finally in realization, you chuckled. For introductions were in order.

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

The aromatic scent crept into your nostrils, only to soon disappear out of the lack of attention provided. All the while an uptempo Latin Pop track playing in the background mingled with Yara and Chase’ voices, but unfortunately faded away into mere mumbles. For none of that seemed to be the key focus for you tonight. Not when Jim Davis was around.

Even seated at a crowded Mexican Restaurant, he mattered the most to you. Even when platefuls of delectable Taquitos* were served to the table, your eyes did not leave his irresistible side profile. And when his sense of expertise noticed and his eyes caught your gaze, you were breathless. You wondered if it was the romantic in you surfacing, for all seemed to appear in slow motion. His eyes remained seductive, washing all over you that it was certain your panties might melt and diminish into thin air. Those eyes were truly sorcerous, that your eyes suddenly had lives of their own to the point you could sense their figurative cheeks heat up with heavy blushes. For his eyes, they were proficient in the dirty talk as much as his mouth was. Breathing in his cheap cologne with depth, you suddenly grew aware of his touch, and the fact he had his arm wrapped around your shoulder all this time. Being lost in his eyes was definitely an out-of-body experience.

“Hey!”

Your soul reunited with your frame upon Yara’s call.

“Mmm?” Looking over at the couple sitting across the table, you and Jim were unfazed.

“Aren’t you two gonna eat?” Yara inquired with raised eyebrows while Chase had began to gobble. Her gaze questioned both your sanity. To which you and Jim could not help but chuckle in response. Shaking her head, Yara scoffed:

“It’s so weird…” she began, “…seeing you like this”. Wiping the crumbs off his mouth, Chase joined in with confidence, “Yeah! How did you guys even meet anyways? I mean, no offense but…we never thought she’d be the one…” he stressed, pointing at you, “… to have an older boyfriend who’s a Marine-”

“-Army Ranger” Jim corrected. His gaze and tone was dominant, enough for Chase to wither with intimidation.

“Yeah…” Chase nodded with a gulp, “…what you said…”. You would be lying if you admit you did not enjoy that sight.

“Actually…” you finally began, “We met a year ago” turning to face your boyfriend, “ He was back in LA during his break. We met at a bar”

“Hold up! ” Raising her hand, Yara was wide eyed, “How come I didn’t know about this?”

“Cause this happened a year ago, hun. Calm down” you chuckled, “Actually, this was even before Cin transferred. Hah! you didn’t miss much…Don’t worry” you assured upon seeing Yara’s pout, “It was a small bar, but I loved the Pistos*-I mean…” you paused with a smile, “….the beer there…” Your pause caused Jim to chuckle alongside once again. Safe to say it was a chuckle that encompassed a shared memory. A sweet reminder of your first ever meeting.

“And?…that’s it?” Chase inquired with amusement, with both hands resting on the wooden table, “You both meet at a bar one night and…” he whistled, “…then sparks flew?”

Looking at them both, you could sense the suspicion in their eyes. You longed to answer, however it was not so easy to do so. Pausing, you struggled with a response.

“Absolutely!”

Jim answered for you with nonchalance, while his grip on you tightened. For a split second you both exchanged a gaze of reassurance. And you had never been more relieved. The secret was safe.

“So…”, Turning towards the couple, Jim began, “How did you lovebirds meet then?”

Hesitation was certainly not in Yara’s vocabulary when she offered to speak. Leaving her sight, your eyes darted towards the the chilled beer that Jim placed on the table. You smiled to yourself. They were certainly filled with memories.

Reminiscing your first meeting with Jim Davis, never failed to be exciting every single time. Before Yara ended up in your life, there was Cindy. Noticing your evident sadness due to her surprise transfer to USC*, Cindy was hell bent in comforting you, thus suggesting you join her and her boyfriend Ray for a night out in South Central. You agreed, being desperate enough to spend the final few days with your roommate. Situated at the suburbs, this bar was small, intimate and seemingly inhabited by those who knew Ray, which resulted in a welcoming atmosphere upon arrival. Though the place was mostly filled with gangsters, you did not care for the slightest, when especially you found yourself falling for the unexpected; The beer.

Chilled to perfection, the beer there was unlike any that you had tasted before. And it was certainly a surprise, given they were the usual brands. You could not fathom the refreshing sensation that trickled down your throat with the first sip. That sensation tempted your hips to sway, urged your feet to move in rhythm. All in syncopation with the music that played in the jukebox under the dim lights. Until finally bumping into a man woke you from your intoxication. A man you were fascinated with in an instant:

Jim Luther Davis.

Such a pity that Yara’s gusto-filled story barely reached your ears. For reliving a memory simply seemed sweeter for you. Thus, you continued to do so.

Fortunately, Jim Davis did not end up being a handsome stranger that you simply bumped into, for coincidence had other plans. Especially, when he and Mike Alonzo turned out to be Ray’s mutual older drinking buddies. You were ecstatic. Internally, of course.

With the entire group packed together in the booth table, it was one loud but engaging hangout. Except for you. Somehow you preferred to sit right next to Cindy in silence, being distracted by two things: Beer, and Jim.

Blame the chemicals embedded in your system, for you simply found yourself drawn to him. Truthfully, it did not seem so difficult to begin with. Not when he turned out to be your type in appearance. You found yourself watching him. The manner in which he listened to others with swagger and confidence, the manner in which he held himself ; They all brought a certain air to him. Your attention had pierced through all manner of secrecy that he would occasionally end up catching your gaze. And then you would look away, quick and embarrassed. Though you must admit, it was a game you thoroughly enjoyed playing. But at the same time, you felt idiotic and childish.

“Cat got yo tongue, baby?”

You blinked, looking up. Fabio, one of Ray’s friends threw the query over to your direction, all of the sudden. And with that, the table grew quiet. All the eyes landed on you, except for Jim’s. A surge of embarrassment rushed towards you when awkward silence filled the booth. For you were definitely distracted to the point you did not follow the conversation. With you struggling to form an answer, Fabio snickered:

“Yo Cindy, What’s up with yo friend? She deaf or somethin’?”

“Easy, homie”

Before Cindy could respond, Jim’s quick reply arose. And you swore your eyes caught the sight of his hand ball into a fist as his eyes had grown dark. Oddly enough, that was the comfort you needed right then.

“Don’t mind me, Fabio…” you shrugged with confidence, “I’m just a girl hooked on her Pistos” you said, enunciating the Spanish word before taking another sip. You may have smiled at him, but you knew how much you feigned it. Awkward silence remained intact. But Ray managed to save the night, by changing the topic of conversation. Slightly embarrassed, Fabio shot you a look. All before he leaned towards his friends, muttering some words in Spanish.

“You speak Spanish?”

Jim’s low query made you turn to him.

“N-No…” you answered with nervousness.

“Well…” he began, “…you should” Though his tone was of seriousness, he did not fail to flash you a soft smile that comforted you even further.

Thus, the evening progressed. And you began to notice Jim in much detail. The more you did, you discovered a warmth that seemed to trickle down your heart. For you realized, you would not be able to stop yourself from falling for him. Hard.

You smiled to yourself, relieved Yara still did not know you were drifting away in your head, stuck in a memory.

Unable to stop obsessing over him since that first night, you remembered how you found yourself returning to the same bar the following night, alone.

Stepping into the venue, you suddenly were aware how unprepared you were. Even while placing an order at the bar counter, you remembered covering your mouth with embarrassment. Was this a mistake?

“Hey Baby! ”

Jumping in your barstool, you sighed with annoyance when you realized it was Fabio sneaking up on you.

“Just…” you feigned a chuckle, “Don’t call me baby, okay?”. Evidently ignorant, Fabio seemed to have chosen to stay. To your dismay. Sporting gold chains on his neck and wrists, Fabio was on a dire attempt to emulate a thriving gangster, when he actually was just another college kid like Ray.

“So, whatcha doing all by yourself, baby? Don’t tell me…you’re here to see yo boi Fabio?”

Keep telling yourself that, you thought. Exhaling in frustration, you maintained a tight smile, “I uh…just waiting for someone” you struggled. Flashing a mischievous smile, Fabio leaned in closer. You prayed he would not notice how your nose scrunched up by his heavy cologne with disgust. And how your body tightened when his eyes scanned you from top to bottom, licking his lips by the sight of your choker and your red, floral short dress.

“Who are we kidding?” He sniggered, “You wanna piece of this, huh? Come o-” “No!” You cut him off, “I’m really…” feigning a chuckle once again, “…waiting for someone…Thanks” you said, extending your hands in defense. Given the reaction of those around you, it may have been a louder response than expected. For Fabio turned red, making it his queue to slither away. You sighed deep. Luck did not seem to get on with you from the moment you stepped in here. Was this a mistake? When you felt a finger tap you on your shoulder, you rolled your eyes and turned around. For you were ready to give Fabio a piece of your mind.

Except, it was not Fabio.

“Hey…”

Jim greeted you, his deep tone announcing his arrival. Standing at an appropriate distance, he stood tall with a hint of swagger. Your body began to finally relax by the sight, especially when your eyes were refreshed by the open plaid shirt worn along with his white vest and baggy pants.

“Hey…” breathless, you began, “Hey!” Confidence finally became you as you repeated with a smile. The bartender caught your attention the moment he placed a chilled bottle of beer on the counter before you.

“Make it two, Hermano* ” Jim said, handing the man some cash. All the sudden, guilt washed over you as you gasped: “Oh I-”

“I got this…” Jim assured, seeing you reach into your bag. Grateful, you nodded, “So…” he began, “Can seem to get enough of them Pistos, hmm?” An inquiry left his lips the moment he received his own bottle. Smiling shyly, you bit the side of your lower lip. The manner in which that word rolled out his tongue caused excitement. Besides, his mouth suddenly seemed more delectable. Oh, his mouth.

“Yeah…” you admitted, “Can’t get enough…and I hope I never will”

You added, gazing directly into his hazel orbs. It simply was a mistake to do so, given how those eyes burnt with curiousity, urging you to blush in return, “And er…” pausing, you looked down, “ I was kinda hoping I’d catch you around” you said, looking up again.

“Yeah?” Jim inquired, genuinely surprised, “Why?”

That was when you froze. He was right, what exactly was your intention of seeing him tonight? Unfathomable on how you gathered courage to blurt that silly line in the first place. What if you dragged yourself all the way here to be rejected? What if there never was a form of enthusiasm from his corner as you hoped? What if this ends up being the story of a silly sophomore college girl, having delusions over an older man?

You chuckled with a nervous tone, “Well I-…” you paused, as your pulse began to grow loud within you, “Sorry…” you muttered, sliding off the stool, “This was just a stupid idea. I should go-”

“Wait!”

You turned upon Jim’s call. Showing his bottle, he shrugged:

“These Pistos aren’t gonna get finished themselves, hmm?” He dared to pose that inquiry with a playful grin. Smiling back involuntarily, you knew you had no comeback for that.

You remembered the chill outside the bar that night. The breeze that caressed your exposed skin of your legs were still fresh in your memory. Gazing at whatever stars your eyes could make out amidst the city lights, you and Jim sipped on the chilled alcohol from the porch. Given the fact there were little to none outside, the evening was unexpectedly intimate.

“Your uh…” clearing your throat, you finally broke the surprisingly comfortable silence, “Your friend not with you tonight?”

“Mike?” Jim inquired, to which you nodded, “Nah! he’s got his hands full” he answered with a smile.

“You guys close?”

“Hell yeah…He’s my homeboy, ya know? Since we were kids”

“Sweet. Must be nice.” You smiled in return, looking back at the sky, “I uh…remember that you serve. Iraq, huh?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Fallujah* ” Jim answered with a nod, looking at you.

“Whoa…” you breathed in wonder. Silence took over once again while your tongue  savored the beverage.

“And you?…UCLA?” Jim spoke before wiping his mouth, “Man! That’s some fancy ass shit right there”

“Yeah well… it ain’t a walk in the park…” you contradicted in a shy tone, forcing him to shoot you a look of concern. To which you chuckled, “I’m on scholarship, I mean…” you added, helping him come to realization, “Hehe yeah…I had to nerd my way into that gig” moving side to side, you could not help but take another sip,“But, I know…what a good thing I got going on. And I know… if I screw it up, then I’m FUCKED” you enunciated the end, which drove him to laughter. You adored how it soothed you somehow.

“Well…” he began, “…whatever fucking takes, right?”

You nodded, “Hell yeah…Here’s to…uh…positive shit! Hah!” You laughed as you both clinked the bottles together. The more alcohol that chose to settle in your system, the bolder you became:

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

You fully turned to him, “Being out there…in Iraq…” you continued, “I mean…I’m guessing you’ve seen some shit…” you inhaled, “you know…shit you can’t forget, right? I mean, shit like that…” you scoffed, “….that shit can fuck…you…up…” at that moment you could not help but find yourself lost in thought.

But Jim’s surprised expression made you pause. You chuckled in embarrassment.

“I’m just…guessing…” you muttered, sipping once again. Perhaps you went a tad bit too far with the blabbering. For your cheeks began to heat up with worry. Until Jim spoke:

“Well…Shit or no shit…Follow orders, that’s what we do” Instead of a frown, Jim replied, taking a huge gulp from his bottle.

“Yeah…I get it” you nodded in a fast pace. Robust, and straightforward, his attitude was to be admired. Funny you found yourself staring at his side profile long enough, his face could easily be compared to that of a statue. Perfect in proportion, your mouth began to dry out. You were attracted to him, shamelessly so.

“I-”, You paused, suppressing a grin, “…never mind”

“What? What is it?” He asked, looking at you. To which you shook your head frantically.

“Nah, it’s really silly…”

“Come on!…tell me” Fully turning, Jim insisted with a smile. His voice had its way of being persuasive. And his voice had its way of tearing your defenses down, or so it seemed. Taking a deep breath, you began:

“I kept thinking about this but…” you paused, “Last night, you said I should learn some Spanish… Why?”

Desperate for more interaction, that was your excuse. Jim responded with a shy chuckle. Certainly was worth it.

“I mean, we just met and you barely knew me…” you continued with a smile, “So…why?” As your question grew more confident, your inner desperation grew strong. Taking his last sip from the bottle, Jim surprised you by taking a step towards you:

“You really wanna know the truth?”

“Try me” , You replied, quickly finishing your own bottle, all without breaking away from his gaze.

And thank goodness you finished it. For you would have surely dropped it. Especially when Jim stood dangerously close to you, causing you to be immediately aware of the muscles between your thighs contracting. Even more so, when his irresistible eyes traveled from your very own all the way to your alcohol stained lips.

“Cause…” he purred, “…you have no fucking clue how sexy you sound”

You both may have chuckled to his line, but that did not mean your pulse did not quicken. Which increased in speed the moment his eyes took hold on yours once again. Seduction, he certainly was proficient in it. And you, were a witness. A witness who suffered from internal combustion of frustration.

You inhaled deep, “Really?” “Yeah…” he breathed in a sultry manner.

Just when you thought no force on earth could break this eye contact, the door burst open. Some men exited. Breaking away, you looked at your watch watch in an instant. You sighed. Real Life was calling you.

“I…I gotta go…” downcast, you muttered with guilt, “Class tomorrow…” adding extra guilt, you knew that excuse certainly did not put you in a good light.

“Lemme drop you then…”

Jim’s nonchalant and nonjudgmental reply urged you to look up with relief. Smiling in agreement, you watched him enter the bar with the empty bottles. And in that very moment, a tingling sensation filled with thrill washed over you, leaving no inch unattended. Butterflies returned to your stomach, fluttering harder than ever before in your life. Were you being hopeful? Could Jim Davis be desiring the same? Goosebumps traveled through you when that tingling sensation returned with much detail. Too much detail to be specific.

Until you realized it was real. And Jim’s hand was directly at fault here.

Blinking back to the present reality, your eyes caught the sight of Jim’s chilled fingers on your leg. They ran over over your inner exposed thigh in circular motion, thus, inciting the tingling sensation. Of course, no wonder the detail was accurate.

Yara and Chase were oblivious to all this, for they were caught up in their own love story as she kept yapping. But that was only the fact Jim kept on such a convincing focused face. He may be ‘listening’ to your friend, but his hand was evidently not. The longer his fingers lingered on your skin, the more you were reminded of him. And the more you began to tingle and sweat in the most unexpected places.

You were young, and unapologetically shameless. 6 months. It was exactly 6 whole months since you were last physically intimate with your boyfriend. And with studies piling up along with the expectation of a scholarship holding sophomore, ‘getting yourself off’ was never an option. Not with a roommate around.

The tingling sensation grew even stronger. And you began to hear your own quickening breath. Jim Davis’ elongated fingers, they spoke of pride. You longed for them to travel to locations far more adventurous and private than your thighs. Especially when they were rife with experience. Truthfully, it was a fact that his hands and his delicious lips and tongue were fluent in your body than your own self. Being pleasure deprived for too long, the mere thought of him ravishing you, aroused you even more. Aroused, and certainly very starved. The kind that food simply could not satisfy.

“...and under the stars…” Yara continued, holding on to Chase with lovestruck eyes, “…he told me he loved m-”

“Excuse me!”

Cutting her off, you cried out as you stood up in an instant.

“What’s up with you?” Chase inquired, whilst Yara looked offended.

“Just I gotta…pee…” you lied, eyes landing on Jim, “…now”

“Okay…” you heard Chase mutter in kind as you left the table, “…TMI, but whatever”

In all fairness, being judged was the least of your concerns. With every speedy step you took, the faster your heart began to beat. Storming into the empty ladies room, you found yourself staring at a mirror once again, with a heaving chest and noticeably flushed cheeks. It was plain to see, you were engulfed in the flames of pure arousal, and the fire needed to be put out.

And when the bathroom door opened up once again, you turned to find the fireman enter. Wearing a serious expression, it was slightly difficult to decipher his thoughts.

“I…” you struggled as Jim strode towards you, “I didn’t know what else to do-” Except he knew. When he attacked you with a passionate kiss.

Jumping into him was reflexive. Wrapping your legs around his waist seemed almost choreographed. Finally resting on the washroom sink, it was quite safe to admit how both of you were very much relieved to be the only occupants in the room. For there was no intention of holding back. Your denim skirt hiked high up, revealing your thighs in completion under the white fluorescent lights as Jim stood between your legs. And they were much cared for, as his hands gingerly rubbed them back and forth while his lips indulged yours with hunger.

“You think they know I lied?”

Breathless, you inquired with innocence. Except you did not receive an instant reply. Not when you found yourself gasping when he pulled your head back by your hair with a growl. With liberated access to your bare neck, Jim celebrated by placing equally starving kisses all over, resulting in your surprising moans.

“You think I fuckin’ care?” He chuckled into your skin, to which you could not help but chuckle back:

“Oh no, you bad boy” you purred in tease.

“Oh yeah, baby girl …” purring back, his reply incited a giggle out of you before he kissed you once again.

“Ay Papi*!” You breathed into his lips before he snatched up yours for good. Surroundings were simply irrelevant the moment the kiss turned intense, as his tongue crashed in like the rude boy he was, and grabbed onto your own tongue in a passionate embrace. They clashed against one another in frenzy, him claiming you as his. As the kiss grew deeper, your moans grew louder. When he pulled away all the sudden, whimpers left your lips with desperation. Teasing you so, Jim took a good look at you:

“¿Como esta tu Español?” He breathed low. And you were pleased that you actually understood.

   How’s your Spanish?  

Pressing himself against you, he began to slowly grind. You grew excited. Listening to Jim Davis speak Spanish was simply erotic in the first place. And since you have been studying it on your own for past few months, you were certainly impatient to show him.

“Yo…” you began, finding the words “…estudio pala-sorry…” with a nervous chuckle, you looked down, “..I know I suck-”

“No no…keep going” Jim insisted with a smile, bringing your chin up for a reassuring kiss, “Now say it again…” he added, maintaining eye contact with ferocity. Taking a deep breath, all the words clearly appeared in your head. Thus, you flashed a mischievous grin:

“…estudiando palabras…muy importantes”

   I am studying…very important words.  

Gasping was all you could do when Jim picked you up, carrying you into the nearest toilet booth. Thankfully with this restaurant being surprisingly hygienic, you did not mind. Life barely was embedded in your legs the moment he put you down, locking the door behind you to push you against it.

“Oh yeah?” He inquired, panting, “¿Cómo cuál?”

   Like what?  

Panting alongside him, you stood up straight, “Por ejemplo…”

   For example…  

Amidst his pants and his impressed expression, you grabbed his hands, placing them over your buttocks. All the while you looked at him with eyes, heavy with lust:

“¡Haz lo que quieras!”

You could not believe how confident you sounded. Smiling with equal lust in his eyes, Jim kissed you in approval, definitely pleased with what he just heard:

   (Do) whatever you want!  

Growling with effect, his animalistic nature was exuded as his hands gripped onto your buttocks with passion. His big, generous hands felt through every cheek with familiarity, as if they just reunited with a long lost friend. But that did not mean he forgot about all the other friends, the rest of your frame that had missed him as well. Moaning with pleasure, you began to unbutton his white shirt during in haste.

You simply adored his hands, for they were as passionate as his Spanish was. As he proceeded to hold on to your hips, your own hands roamed over his torso over his white vest. Except you froze the second his hands landed on your chest. Shaky breaths exited your lips as you shivered by his touch, for your breasts were at its most sensitivity even through your thin cardigan top. Palming them generously, Jim groaned into your lips:

“Fuck! I missed you, Guapa”

“I missed you more, Papi”

Confessing in return, you kissed him once more. Moans of desperation mixed into your kisses the moment his hands dipped inside your cardigan crop top, only to make direct contact with your untethered bosom. You winced involuntarily, even from his touch so gentle. Jim chuckled with seeming victory. And you were not afraid to admit, how you were simply in the palm of his hand.

Usually, during the peak pre-menstruation, you dared not let anyone come close to you, let alone touch you. But when it was Jim Davis, those rules halt by the door. He was a man who could maneuver his touch. However, he certainly was no good boy. Proceeding with his sweet torture during kisses, you were relieved to have a door to keep you balanced. For his long fingers, they flicked, encircled and pulled your now-sensitive nipples, keeping them fully erect and thoroughly visible even through the clothes.

Gripping his vest even tighter, you pressed your thighs together, for intense levels of pleasure and sensitivity crashed within you, akin to an avalanche. In truth, it simply was an overdose, and you could not handle. You were a mere animal trapped in this cage of frustration. But like an animal, you managed to set yourself free. You pushed Jim back with such force, that he ended up sitting on the closed toilet seat behind him. A surprised expression adorned his face when you straddled him in the process. Peeling your cardigan off your torso, you hinted your need for him. Which immediately was motivation for him to unbuckle his pants. However, his eyes did not fail to leave your sight while he did. For his eyes revealed nothing but pure amazement and hunger. He inhaled deep:

“Fuck!” He uttered, while his hand dipped into his hardened manhood.

“Yeah, that’s right Papi…” you breathed, maintaining the ironclad gaze. All the while you permitted his hand to feel the intense dampness of your opening, “Fuck me!”

And thus, public decency went flying out the window the moment the lovers fully united. The manner in which his hands rested on your bare back; whilst you moved upwards and downwards in syncopation to his thrusts, it drove you wild. The manner in which his generous and erect shaft felt so familiar inside of your tight walls, was too intoxicating as always. His mutual desperation and hunger translated well, as his lips savored on your swollen and sensitive bosom as if they were treasured food rations. Tingles were divided into million branches, impacting every form of stimuli in your system. But even in the midst of these endless waves of pleasure, that certain question from Chase yet lingered in your mind:

  “And?…that’s it? You both meet at a bar one night and…then sparks flew?” “Absolutely!”  

For in truth, it was not just a night of drinking and playful flirting that caused this relationship to blossom. And just like that, You could not help but recall further.

And peek into the moment that remained stored in the deepest corner of your mind. In the form of a secret.

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

With arms folded, you kept on waiting. Long enough for the chill outside to grow stronger. Long enough for you to begin pacing nervously. Even long enough for several men to exit the bar during. Given its cabin exterior, it became more and more evident that this was more of an old fashioned bar. You sighed. Jim was certainly taking a little bit too long inside.

Paranoia knocked on your heart’s door, forcing you to welcome it inside with reluctance. Thus, several questions began to occupy your thinking space. Was there trouble inside? A possible Bar Fight? You shook your head, for you were surely being delusional. Or worse, was this a part of his plan all along? The player type to ditch you for someone else? Perhaps with someone better looking that he just met. Envy formed in your heart towards a woman that possibly may not even exist. Your stomach turned in a merciless fashion. When the door opened again, a surge of hope grew in you. Could it finally be Jim?

Except it was not.

“Baby! You still around huh?”

Fabio said, in a pleased tone, exiting the bar. Clicking your tongue in an involuntary fashion, you turned away with frustration. For he was the last person you hoped to lay eyes upon.

“Hey-Wha-What’s the matter?” Fabio cried, “Can’t look at a friend?” Whilst he tapped you on the shoulder repeatedly. Alcohol was strong in his presence. And the fact he stood uncomfortably close certainly turned your stomach even more.

“Well, technically you’re not my friend” With a forced smile, you turned to him, “You’re Ray’s friend, OKAY? ” a snappy tone exited your lips. And for a split second, there was genuine offense painted in Fabio’s face.

“Just tryna be nice, jeez!” He muttered low, with arms lifted. Coming one’s senses, you finally drew in deep breath while letting your arms loose.

“I…I’m sorry, dude”  you said, in a soft tone, staring the droopy eyed young man. Being Cindy’s friend, your last intention was to cause friction Ray and his friends. Your tone seemed to have been convincing enough, for Fabio flashed a soft smile in return:

“It’s okay…” he replied, to which you were relieved.

But that relief was short lived. Especially when Fabio leaned forward with puckered up lips in an instant, forcing you to gasp.

“What the hell, man?” You inquired, pushing him back with aggression.

“Ah come on, baby…” he drawled, chuckling in a playful manner, “Just one kiss…I mean, look at you! You still waiting out here. For who? I know… you really came here for me” with open arms, he went in for an embrace. Scoffing, you pushed him back again. That was when your pulse quickened again. To the point you hoped to flee.

“That’s it! I’m leaving! ”

You snapped, darting away from the entrance. The concern of leaving Jim behind or finding a cab did not seem problematic anymore, for all you needed was to get away. However, a painful cry left your lips when you felt your hair being pulled back. Your eyes widened. It was an angry Fabio.

“Ugh! Why you being such a Puta* right now, huh?” He said through gritted teeth, pulling you closer “Oh wait I forgot…” he snickered, “….you don’t understand Spanish, right bitch?” turning you to him. The alcohol had certainly rendered him more maniacal than ever.

“Don’t’ be a jerk, Fabio…” You cried, as you began to swing desperate punches towards his direction. But your defenses were lowered and moot, the moment he grabbed you tight by the wrists. You gasped, “..let… me… go! HELP! ”.

However, despite your cries, no one came to your aid.

This feeling, certainly was the ‘stuff of nightmares’. This feeling, had haunted you every now and again in imagination. To have it form into reality, was worse. No matter the force you exerted to free yourself, it seemed moot. For Fabio had the upper hand with his strength. And you were overpowered with intimidation. With the heartbeat increased in record speed, your heart was on the verge of exploding with fear. For the first time, you feared for your life. You despised the fact there was no one around, the fact this bar was on the outskirts. Almost close to tears, You heavily despised the fact you may be getting hurt in more ways than one tonight.

Until you heard a bottle shatter. Loud.

Glass fragments dripped from Fabio’s head as he cried out with immense pain. His grip on you loosened before he dropped down to the ground. Only for you to find Jim Davis standing behind him, with with a bottle broken in hand, and sheer rage in his eyes.

Rolling over, Fabio caught the sight of the man, “Jim??” He groaned, “What the hell, man? Why you helping this bitch-ARGH!”

A kick in the stomach was Jim’s choice in response, which incited more cries from the fool.

“THE FUCK YOU TOUCH HER FOR, HUH?” Jim yelled, his loud voice piercing through the tension like high pressured flames. However, the question seemed rhetoric, when he continued to kick Fabio, aggression growing more and more evident, “FUCKING…ASS…HOLE!” With tightened fists, he enunciated with each kick, “MOTHERFUCKE-”

“JIM!!!!”

You cried in an instant. And that very moment was when he finally froze. That fateful moment, you watched his face change, for his expression was clear as day. As if a wave of realization washed over him. As if bitter reality surprised him with a sucker punch.

All the while he stared down at his finished product: Fabio. He watched the the young man groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; all the while a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head and his mouth, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement.

Which was transparent enough for you, the witness.

You regretted being frozen with shock. If it only was for you to control. Thankfully a shred of it reached when you finally mustered the strength to call for him out from a potential murder. Violence, Danger, your trembling heart sensed it all. All from Jim. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, despite your shock, never did you flinch. Never did your heart consider retracting from him or running away.

On the contrary, you were compelled to trust him even further. Especially when you sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go…”

You found yourself uttering those words, as you took his hand in urgency. Pulling him with haste, you both fled from the scene. Adrenaline coursing through the veins whilst running away, leaving a wounded man laying in his own mess before anyone could find out.

You remembered how Jim drove. Quiet, but focused. He drove and drove, until the bar disappeared from your sight. He drove to the point you both found yourselves ending up at a remote beach. And finally, time had returned to its normal pace once again.

Calming sounds of the ocean waves filled your ears, while the sight of the foamy waters barely were visible in the darkness. You watched Jim slowly take his hands from the wheel, rubbing his face. Your eyes widened, when you noticed his hand bleeding slightly. Perhaps from the broken bottle. You longed to speak, however no voice was present. Pushing the seat back, Jim slowly crawled over to the back of the car. Silence overpowered for too long, which urged you to clear your throat and speak:

“A…Are you ok-”

“You’re right, you know…”

You paused, upon hearing Jim’s interruption. Looking back from the front passenger seat, you found light finally shining on his face. Much to your sadness, cracks formed in your heart by the sight of his expression. Especially when silent tears streamed down his chiseled face. As if his mask of bravery was stripped away. Or even melted.

“You’re right…shit’s been crazy over there…” he chuckled with sadness, “…worse, shit’s crazy over here too…” he said, pointing at his own head.

Joining him in the backseat, you took the bandana off your head without hesitation.

“The thing’s I’ve seen…” he continued in mid-whisper, “The shit I had to do. The shit I wanted to do. It’s fucked up…so fucked up”.

It was unfathomable. Witnessing emotions of Jim Davis on variant scale in one single night, including him unveiling his vulnerability, you did not know where to begin processing. Simultaneously, those cracks in your heart, they could not help but form deeper to the point you ached inside. For a second, you were filled with an overwhelming desire for this misery in his heart to disappear. You longed for him to smile again. You froze. Were you tasting a slice of pure affection? Perhaps even, love? For him?

“It’s too fucked up…I’M fucked up-”

“Hey…hey…”

Your voice cracked when you finally began, leaning towards him, “Shhhh…It’s okay…” you said in comfort, while rubbing his forearm, “…its okay…I’m here” you said, as you occupied yourself with tending to his bleeding hand as a coping mechanism. The bleeding that he did not even notice.

With his hand on yours, the heart did feel heavier in comparison. As if his hand was magnetically powerful enough to keep you nearby. Thus, forming an attraction. Not the type that stirred the loins, but merely the kind that longed for you to wail on behalf of him. The kind to carry the pain for him. As if you did not wish to carry on another minute of your life, without knowing he would be well. And you would be lying if you did not want to show him that.

Your trembling hand reached out for his surprised face, turning it towards you with patience. The deep breath you took, it occupied your lungs in completion. Butterflies exploded in your stomach , causing a riot before you moved close. Close enough to feel his breath on your face. And close enough to press your lips on both his cheeks.

You tasted his salty tears, that stained his face. Pressing your own lips together, you hoped you could share his pain this way. Your eyes were smart, urging your voice to take a breather, whilst they gazed at his lips. Those lips that turned you greedy the moment you saw first laid eyes on them. And his trembling breaths of despair were enough for you to finally dispose of any form of hesitation.

For you finally moved to kiss him ever so gently on the lips.

With your kiss, you were there for him, in spite of it all. In spite of the violence and the tears. And the moment you instantly felt Jim kiss you back, you knew you were hopelessly his.

All the sudden, a dose of sweetness was infused with the salty kisses, weakening the flavor of the beer that lingered in his mouth. Selfishly, the need for comfort vanished. For all you needed was him. In every possible manner. Safe to say, Jim wholeheartedly agreed.

A sudden injection of passion entered your systems, setting your bodies in its entirety, in flames. Which also included the loins. Powerful enough for you to straddle him, powerful enough for Jim to flip you down to hover over you. And certainly powerful enough for the both of you to make love.

You treasured it all. The manner in which his fingers were precise, hooking on to your panties to gingerly peel them out of your frame. The manner in which his eyes gazed upon your own, then traveling all the way south to take in the sight of your now exposed opening, that dripped with wetness, blushing in its own means and begging him to explore it. Thus, it was to be expected, when you welcomed him inside you effortlessly. As if it had waited for him all your life.

Even for the first time, Jim was fast, and was rough. Yet surprisingly, you did not care. You knew where it originated. And it seemed most apt.

While he moved in body, he fled in heart. Away from the horrors, away from the pain. This resulted from his need for a distraction. Amidst the syncopated moans that filled the car, you cupped his face. Looking right into his hazel orbs, you witnessed his need. His need for a distraction. And at the peak of climax, you witnessed his desperation. His desperation, that urged you to never him go.

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

         (Present)      

“I failed the test…”

Jim uttered low, capturing your attention. With your face buried in his neck, you heard it louder than ever. Tilting your head, you sat up straight to face him, confusion taking over. After reaching climax following a session of passionate and exciting love-making in a restaurant toilet booth, there you both were in recovery. Never did you expect him to break the silence with a statement such as this.

“What do you mean?” You inquired in a half whisper.

“The Psych test…” Jim elaborated, while you proceeded to put your cardigan top back on,  “…for the LAPD gig” sighing, he was downcast “I failed that shit…”

“No….” You breathed. The disappoint that was rife in his tone, somehow pierced through your heart. Thus, ushering in a wave of sadness that came crashing in, “Baby, I’m so sorry…” you said as you embraced him tight. To your surprise, Jim held you tightly in his arms in return. For when he buried his face on the crook of your neck and remained in silence for a mere few seconds, it was evident that was what he was required of. A rush of butteries attacked as you gently cupped his face.  You loved this man, and your heart was the witness.

“Fuck the cops if the they can’t relate” you said through gritted teeth, before kissing both his cheeks, “Fuck ‘em! Cause something better is comin’ ” you added with a soft smile, while your thumb ran over his upper lip, “We just gotta ...keep our heads straight”

To your relief, Jim seemed amused, “Speaking from experience?”

You smiled with pride, “You could say that…”

Both of you chuckled. “The point is…” you continued with a deep sigh, and huge smile, “I’m glad you’re back for good, baby”

Except for his own smile, it vanished right then. And in turn, his eyes watered and they shone, reflecting nothing but desperation and vulnerability. You took pride in being the one to witness it, just as you did that fateful night a few months back. Stroking your head with both hands, his forehead gently touched yours:

“¡Eres mia!” He breathed deep.

   You’re mine!  

How dare he? Expanding with immense warmth and impatience, it did not take long for your heart to gain rapid pace, as it was your very first time.

“¡Si, para siempre!”  You answered with confidence. For it was simply the truth.

   Yes, Forever! 

——————————————————

Index

UCLA : The University of California, Los Angeles Salud: Spanish term for “Cheers!” Guapa: Spanish term for Beautiful, Gorgeous Taquitos: A Mexican Food Dish Pisto: Mexican slang. A general term for an alcoholic beverage (usually beer) USC: University of Southern California Fallujah: A city in Iraq Papi: Spanish Term for Daddy Puta: Derogatory Spanish term for bitch, whore

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[armandyke]

Could we start again, please?

Summary: After the most hectic three months of his life, Diego finally gets a chance to speak to Eudora again, even if it wasn't the way he wanted.

Word Count: 2176

Square Filled: Funeral

Characters: Diego Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of alcohol, season 2 spoilers

A/N: The ninth and final entry for @tuacreatorsbingo!!

You can read it here, or on my AO3

It had been eight days now since Diego had found the envelope addressed to him sitting on the mat by the front door. It was unusual for three reasons. One: He hadn’t received any mail in over twelve years. Two: He hadn’t been registered at his childhood home in over twelve years. And three: He didn’t recognise the handwriting on the envelope. Every day since then, he’d woken up, read over the card inside, and put off his decision for another day. Today, though, he couldn’t do that, because now he’d run out of days. 

He read over the gold, embossed words for the hundredth time.

Detective Eudora Patch

Dec 1983 - Mar 2019

Funeral Service

Apr 15 - 10AM

He wasn’t going to the funeral service. That at least he was sure about. For starters, people would want to know how his hair had grown five inches in two weeks, and even with the charges dropped, he was pretty sure there was a good number of people who still thought he was the one who killed her. No, the real question was whether he would go to the burial. 

Two days ago he’d decided he absolutely, categorically, wasn’t going. Yesterday he decided he definitely was. Today… he wasn’t sure anymore. Part of him felt like he was probably the last person she’d want to be there, another part felt like he owed it to her. He wasn’t there for her when she needed him, so the least he could do was be there now. Still, there were so many other complications if he did go. What would he do when he got there? Should he bring flowers, or was that tacky? What flowers would he even bring? She always had sunflowers in her kitchen… but she also liked bluebells… and daffodils… Okay now he was definitely overthinking the flower thing. 

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he tossed the card aside and got to his feet. 

He wasn’t going. 

He rifled through his closet for a shirt. 

Maybe just for five minutes. Just to pay his respects. 

He’d slept in his jeans last night. Christ, he needed to get his life together. 

No. Nope. Not going. 

He tugged his boots on, threw open the door, and headed down the stairs. 

Just a quick walk-by, no big deal. 

About ten paces down the street he started having second? Third? Twenty eighth thoughts? But he pushed them out of his mind, trying to find something else to focus on instead. It was cold out despite the sunshine, and he was starting to regret not throwing a jacket on before he left. This was always Eudora’s favourite time of year. When the sun was out and the flowers were growing, but it was still cool enough to wear a sweater. Actually, she seemed to love every time of year. She had a way of romanticising everything; of finding beauty in the mundane. She made him appreciate things he’d never thought worthy of appreciating before. That, at least, would stay with him, even now that the rest of her was gone. He could still notice the way the frost on the grass caught the sunlight and sparkled like diamonds, and smile at a squirrel bouncing across the road and into the bushes. Just little things that he’d never thought he was capable of before he met her. 

He reached the cemetery a lot sooner than he’d hoped, and he lingered by the gates for a few minutes psyching himself up before finally heading inside. It was a huge place, with trodden pathways weaving in and out of the headstones. He wandered aimlessly until he spotted a small huddle of people gathering further down the path. His latest plan had been a quick walk-by, but he found himself getting closer, leaning against a nearby tree that was close enough for him to see what was going on, but far enough away to avoid being spotted. 

It looked like he’d already missed the coffin being lowered, which he was silently relieved about. Seeing her coffin would have made it too real. He could pick out Chuck, and a few other guys from the station in the crowd, Eudora’s mom, who he’d met once and made just about the worst impression possible on, and her sister, who looked like a ghost of Eudora, only with glasses and shorter hair. There was an older man who must have been her grandfather, and a couple standing with her mom who he assumed were the aunt and uncle she’d told him about once. She talked a lot about her family and how close knit they all were, pretty much the polar opposite of his own family at the time, and a few times he’d found himself wondering what it would be like to be part of that. But that possibility was buried in the ground with her, and he was pretty sure the rest of her family would have some choice words for him if they saw him here. 

He had no idea how much time had passed when the crowd finally started to disperse, but his fingers were starting to go numb from the cold and his arm was aching from leaning against the tree. One by one the group made their way back down the pathway, filing into waiting cars at the gates, leaving him alone with thousands of headstones and one mound of earth. He should be leaving too, but her headstone looked so lonely without her family there, and now that he was here it seemed rude to leave without at least walking past. So, after checking, and then double checking, that there was nobody else around, he headed over. 

“Hey, Dor,” He said quietly as he approached, sitting on the damp grass by the stone and taking a deep breath. 

The headstone looked expensive, made of jet black polished granite. He wasn’t sure it’s what she would have picked out for herself, given the choice, but then there were still a lot of things he didn’t know about her. 

“I don’t know if you’ve uh… been hanging around these last few weeks, but it’s been pretty crazy.” 

Suddenly he wished he’d taken a little more interest in Klaus’ powers when they were younger. He knew ghosts existed, but he didn’t know much about how they actually worked. Were there rules? Could they only stay in certain places? Even if she was a ghost and she could go where she wanted, why would she give a shit about what he’d been doing anyway? 

“I grew my hair out.” That was a stupid thing to say. “Saved the world a couple of times.” He sighed, slumping against the stone and hanging his head. “Things have gotten so messed up since you left. You’d think I was making it up if I told you.” 

She wouldn’t. He knew she wouldn’t. Somehow, no matter how insane his situation was, she always believed him. Maybe that was why he often found himself telling her things he never thought he’d ever tell anyone. 

“Okay, so, those freaks in the masks? Turns out they work for some super-secret time travelling organisation that monitors everything to try and preserve the timeline. And Five worked for them too. And Vanya? My sister with no powers? She does have powers, and she accidentally blew up the moon, so we had to time travel to fix everything but instead we got stuck in the sixties, and I got stuck in an asylum and uh… met this girl, Lila. We had a sort of… thing going on, but then it turned out she was working for The Commission too… and also had powers like us. And uh… so basically Vanya almost started a nuclear war, and we stopped it, and now we’re back here.” He paused, chewing on his lip for a moment. “Oh, and we accidentally screwed up the timeline so bad we created an alternate universe. But we fixed that too so… everything’s fine now, I guess.” 

Maybe it was just his imagination, but it didn’t feel as cold sitting with her. The logical part of his brain knew it was probably just the headstones blocking some of the wind, but it was nice to imagine that maybe she was listening, probably rolling her eyes at how ridiculous his life was and lecturing him about what she would have done differently. She’d always had a hidden competitive streak. If he stopped two apocalypses, she’d have to stop three. And she could. She would have stopped ten doomsdays by now if he’d been the one to die instead of her, and then maybe everyone would have been better off. 

He should have brought some flowers.

“I really miss you,” He admitted, lowering his voice even though there was nobody else around. “I forgot, for a little while. The last three months have been so crazy I barely had time to think about it. But now I’m back here and… and I don’t know what to do anymore. I thought about going back to the whole vigilante thing, but I don’t think the other guys will be as forgiving about me messing up their crime scenes. And bugging you at work was always half the fun anyway.” 

There was a lot more he could say, but he could feel the emotions starting to bubble up so he kept quiet. He ran his fingers over the grass and took in the flowers people had laid over her grave. There were roses, carnations, and a bouquet of bright pink lilies. She once told him she could never have lilies in the house because of her allergies, and his fingers itched to move them away from her, despite knowing how stupid that would be. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps approaching in the grass, and he quickly started looking for the quickest exit route. The panic faded again as the footsteps grew closer. He recognised the clumsy pattern of steps, so light that it was as though the feet were barely making contact with the ground, and the faint smell of cigarettes. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked before Klaus had a chance to announce himself. 

“Speed dating,” Klaus sat flatly, dropping unceremoniously to the ground with a heavy thud as he sat next to him. “I found the invite in your room. Thought you might need some company.”

“I don’t,” He mumbled. 

“I thought you might say that too.” Klaus leant back on his hands and looked over at him. “But I’m here anyway, so suck it up, tough guy.” 

Diego let out a frustrated huff, though secretly he was thankful for the distraction. 

“What were you doing in my room?”

“I wanted to borrow a couple of your shirts.” 

“You mean steal them?” 

“Tomato tomato.” Klaus shrugged. “Old habits die hard, I guess. And anyway, if you don’t want people to steal your shirts, maybe you should stop buying nice shirts.” 

He grinned at him and Diego tried to force a smile back, but it can’t have been too successful because Klaus’ face immediately softened again. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?” 

Diego looked up at him. “I never said it was.”

“No, but I know how your brain works,” Klaus said, waving his hand as he spoke. “You hero types think every tragedy is your personal responsibility, but sometimes bad things just happen. And I didn’t know your friend very well but, speaking from a wealth of experience, I know most dead people don’t want their loved ones to wallow in regret for the rest of their lives.” 

Somehow, that made him feel a little better, or maybe it was just the sheer ridiculousness of what Klaus was saying that made him smile. Either way, it eased some of the guilt, and he found himself trying to talk himself out of the question he desperately wanted to ask. 

“Have you…” He paused, chewing on his lip. “I mean, I don’t know, can you…”

“I haven’t seen her,” Klaus said, putting him out of his misery. 

He felt a strange mixture of disappointment and relief at that, nodding slowly. “That’s good, right? That means she’s not stuck down here?” 

“Either that or she’s avoiding me.” 

“That’d be understandable.” 

Klaus grinned. “There! You sound like you again,” He said, punching his shoulder lightly. “Wanna go get dangerously drunk?”

“It’s noon.”

“And?”

Shaking his head, Diego got to his feet. “I need to get some flowers,” He said, rolling his eyes at Klaus’ desperate, puppy dog expression. “And I’m gonna need your help, because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

He didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Eudora with Klaus enthusiastically tugging on his arm, but he didn’t think she’d mind. She always used to tell him he should try to reconnect with his family, and this was probably the first time he’d ever actually listened to her advice.

[mindwideopen]

I look like a fancy pants. I am not one. I have a fundamental problem with fancy. With classy. With the upper crust. The hoi polai. I’m not bougie, or part of the upper echelon. Or the high faluntin’. Definitely not exclusive. Or a vip, and not the highest valued. Or the most powerful. Nor am I the absolute best. Well, it’s clear. These are all shit beliefs, I hold within myself. I yell about it a lot. I ruminate. I reactivate the energy I feel rejected by, over and over again.

Be a star! Be famous! Be revered! Be honored! Be special! All of that talk, is relying on outside validation and acceptance to occur for you to be accepted. If I’m not, then what?! Do I cease to exist? Should I? If I’m not accepted into this group, this club, this job, this whatever, then I’m not worthy. A very hard concept to swallow when you’re trying to prove yourself to the world. I need a job. I need to be my best, I have to audition or interview. I need to show my stuff, and prove my worth. Ouch. Not ok. And not easy to live with on a daily basis. Especially if that outside validation never comes. So if it doesn’t, then what? Your thoughts about you and your life, matter.

Our society focuses on one upping one another. It’s how it’s all set up. Prove, show, how much can you do? Who do you know? How much can you offer? Soooooo exhausting. I’ve been sitting in this same brown suede chair, for years, with all this aforementioned energy, and it blows. I have been doing it to myself. And then subsequently reacting to the world and it’s peoples according to my thoughts, and beliefs.

All rich people are greedy. They don’t share. They stay rich, while others starve and struggle. They are excessive. They do not share their wealth. They only care about themselves, etc. all beliefs I had, both consciously and subconsciously. And guess who I ran into? People. Lots of them. All just people, that I labeled, and categorized, and compartmentalized, and brushed off, and yelled about, etc. The people, reacted to my energy that I brought to the table. Not my words, but to my energy. Very different. People can smell other people a mile away. Mistrust, is very real. I didn’t trust a single person. And therefore, they reacted to me accordingly, very exaggerated in some instances, proving my beliefs.

I’m bored of that old dynamic. Fear. Mine. Money is just money. Money is not an energy. What our beliefs are about it, is the energy, not money itself. The same goes with humanity. Humans are just humans. They are not predetermined. Sometimes predictable, but predictably is also predetermined by each of us according to our predetermination of others, sometimes.

“I know her type... she’s a slut, and a bitch, and a pig, and selfish, and she swears and writes weird, so she’s some kind of freak....” all of these generalizations are detrimental to union; both union with other people, and union with ourselves. If you focus on negative thoughts that others have laid on you, or have a negative self talk running in the background of your mind dissing yourself constantly, it’s the same energy. That’s why it’s important to be aware of your beliefs. How do you feel about you? It starts there. Then the rest fall like dominos. (Again, not the pizza place...)

“You are an asshole Kari! Who do you think you are, writing about this shit! You are not qualified! You act like an expert! Like a big shot! Like a know it all! Who do you think you are?! You are a no talent hack! You rip people off and credit yourself! All you do is complain, and boss people around, and yell about whatever. Well, I’m sick of your shit! Be gone!” And I do. I leave. I leave all the very uncomfortable, upsetting situations that I see and experience because I see them that way, which is like most people. Mistrust is very real, if it’s a belief you hold. And by the by, I have been accused, tried, and convicted of all of these things by some people in the 3d world, whatever. But what’s worse, I’ve been convicted of all of this, by myself, because I have reinforced it with my attention to it.

Rebuilding trust with the most important person in the world to you, is not a thing most of us focus on. We think we do, but we don’t. “Oh please... she’s a mook! I trust and care about my spouse, and my kids, and my family, and my friends, and my boss, or whomever. So shut up, insane woman who writes blogs I may or may not read fully, or at all, because I know what you’re about already, so I shut down.” Ok. Already decided then. How’s it feel? Are you happy? Is your life great? If it is, fantastic! Disregard the rest of this post. If your life is great, you’re probably not even reading this, because you won’t resonate with it. You’re happy. I’m not. So I write to get there. I’m rebuilding trust, with the person who decides what my beliefs are. I’m trying to win back the love and support, of me.

Care is not a thing we decide easily either. “Why should I give a shit?! They don’t care about me at all. No one shows love, so I’ll hoard mine as well. It’s how people are...” a belief I haven’t held so I thought, but my subconscious mistrust in people superseded that so-called belief. “Fuck! People screwed me over AGAIN! I try over and over to love, and I don’t get it back! Damn it! I was vulnerable. I opened up! And I was rejected. All of me, was turned down, for being me.” That thought trajectory is one I still try to eliminate from my energy that I hold. But it takes time to repair a relationship when you’ve been unkind. And the relationship with me is the one that’s been in disrepair for a really long time. Fear and mistrust is a barrier to the recognition of any love. And you may miss it if it comes your way with your hurt/and or angry filter. So patience and understanding when I fall off the wagon being kind to myself, is imperative to experiencing love of any kind.

When I feel love from within, it permeates outwardly. When I choose thoughts that help me feel better, I want to share that feeling with those connected to me. When I feel love, I’m happier, I choose good things to eat, I don’t try to fit into clothes that are too small for me, I don’t yell at my son for being a kid, I find more reasons to be happy. The momentum of my thoughts, multiply, and snowball. And the more I do it, the easier it is to get back to that place when I end up falling out of the love. I am a human being. We all are, well, when we choose to be. Otherwise we’re not. We’re mean, we’re ornery, we’re unfeeling (but not, cause negativity also results in feelings, and is also a choice). We come off callus, selfish, as an asshole. Our emotions feed on themselves too, but not in the way we may truly desire, but in the way we subconsciously think we deserve. We treat people according to how we feel, our perceptions dictate that. “God, is she needy! I cannot deal with, Kari. She’s so; A, B, and C, and I’m soooo not into her. So I won’t invest, and not only that, I will hold this energy of what I believe she is, every time I think of her.” I do it to myself, everyday. We all do. We hold the energy of our beliefs about others, and ourselves, and when we think about anything, positively or negatively that’s what WE ourselves experience, because of our attention to it.

I’m bored of this conversation. You know why? Cause it’s not a fun energy. You know what is? Not these thoughts. So, I’m going to eat for the first time today, and maybe think better about things, if I can get that positive momentum going. Well, I’m a deliberate thinker when I want to be, so let’s do it! Ok! Sweet! What do I think?

Below is a sample conversation to deliberately have with yourself to change your energy from a meh mood to better. (Results may vary due to your willingness to buy into what I’m saying. Also, you decide what lights you up, and substitute that for the variables to what I used as examples. If you don’t like avocado toast, music, or detachable penises, this may not be the exact conversation you should have with yourself to aid in feeling better...):

Well, you love avocados. Yes, that’s a weird subject, but I do. Great! Let’s have some avacado toast, and then decide what to do next. Ok. Do you like music? Well, I’m me, so you know I do.... great! Why don’t you listen to some music you dig while your waiting for your toast to toast. That’s ridiculous. Why? It’s just listening. I mean, it’s not like I asked you to dance or anything. Well, fine... I guess I can listen to something. And nothing depressing! Aww come onnnnnn... some of my favorite songs are depressing! Well, fine, but how about something in between. Fine, in between. Ok. Now, remember how much fun we had listening to this song that does something to your innards in the past? Yes! I do. Uh oh... what? You seem... happier... no I’m not! Oh! I think you are... I saw you tapping your foot... no I wasn’t! I was shifting my weight. Ok, fine. Well, I do love this song, and it reminds me of this other song I completely forgot about! Ohhhh yeahhhh! This one is hilarious! Detachable penis by king missle! They’re insane! Omg... you’re dirty. Oh man, people think I write smut. Actually, they do, you didn’t write their song. And by the way, it’s hilarious and awesome, and you appreciate the humor. Besides, there’s no one else here to judge. It’s just you and your toast! Oh yeah! Ok, sweet! Let’s listen...

Yes, this song, and example is seriously ridiculous. A total oxymoron. But it works like that. Love is, accepting you and others in a loving way. It’s about having a sense of humor. It’s about cutting everyone some slack. It’s about caring more about loving then judging and being right. So caring about your feelings play into the happiness of the whole of all of us. We share this planet, so if you care about it, like you say you do, care about you too. ❤️

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Rebound

This is the first part of a commission :D

Rhys gets dumped, Jack goes on a 'treat Rhys nice' spree out of pure spite, and eventually catches some serious feels himself.

Subsequent parts on my ao3 here. My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here.

--

Jack had stopped reading the report on his desk some time ago, his attention focused on his personal assistant as the younger man somberly frowned to himself.

Rhys made a little noise Jack wasn’t entirely sure was voluntary, the sound a little too close to a sob instead of a sigh. It had been several days of this, now, slowly escalating to the point that Jack was actively invested in the unhappy looks on his PA’s face. He couldn’t leave it alone any longer.

“Hey. Rhysie. What gives?”

Rhys looked up sharply, a slightly-caught look on his face. “Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me. You’ve been mopey all day. Don’t think I didn’t notice, buttercup.” Technically not a lie. But Jack didn’t volunteer that he’d noticed days prior. “What’s the matter? You get dumped or something?” he teased with a smirk.

The expression on Rhys’ face went stricken, and Jack frowned. No, that couldn’t actually be it. Rhys was, like, in love with that guy. Never shut up about him or whatever hot dates he had lined up or outings planned. The way the PA doted and bragged to Jack about how well things were going sometimes even made the older man jealous.

No one put that much effort into dating him, after all. It was usually the other way around, in Jack’s opinion.

Rhys had an anniversary coming up in two days that he’d asked him the day off for, too. Maybe his dinner reservation was cancelled or something. A total bummer, but nothing Jack couldn’t help with if it took that look off the younger man’s face. Being Handsome Jack’s personal assistant had to come with some perks.

“Rhysie, baby, it can’t be that bad. Come on, tell ol’ Jack what’s wrong.”

“That’s exactly it, actually,” Rhys didn’t deny. He knew he’d been feeling pathetic but if Jack noticed then it really said something. “I got dumped. Go ahead and laugh.”

Jack was going to do anything but. “What?? Who’s laughing? That guy dumped you?” Who the hell would dump his PA? Jack was offended on his behalf. “After all those cute little lunches and shit you showed me you made for that loser?"

He’d believe the other way around; Rhys was gorgeous after all. But as far as Jack knew, the younger man had seemed pretty happy with the nameless jerkwad that kicked him to the curb. That Rhys had been moping for days bothered Jack significantly.

“What a butthead,” Jack stated simply.

Rhys slightly snorted a little at that description of-- well, was he even an ex-boyfriend now? The way he’d been dumped, Rhys got the impression that he was the only one who had thought they were a committed item. “I don’t… I don’t super wanna talk about it…”

“No? You sure, buttercup? I can always put out a hit on him.”

Rhys snorted again, but the smile he gave as he shook his head was watery. “Please don’t do that, Jack. It’s not-- It’s not his fault or anything. I just… misunderstood what we had.”

Jack wrinkled his nose at that, but didn’t comment as it was clear that the younger man was taking it particularly hard. Sounded like the guy was a grade-A jerkwad in Jack’s opinion. He certainly didn’t deserve Rhys. If the younger man was half as good a boyfriend as he was a personal assistant, then the guy was an idiot and a jerkwad.

Rhys busied himself in tidying up his desk a little self-consciously as Jack watched him with a considering frown. “...You sure I can’t have the guy whacked for you, pumpkin? Volunteer him for R&D’s bio-division? Target-practice?”

Rhys snorted and ignored Jack, though a wan smile took his face.

It was better than tears, at least.

--

Two days later, Jack sat at his desk in the early-morning hours with glasses on and a screwdriver in hand. His coffeemaker lay in pieces strewn across the desk before him. And Jack was super wishing for a cup of something strong right now indeed.

He held a curly, spring-looking thing in his hand, squinting at it in scrutiny. He wasn’t sure the machine needed it, and wasn’t entirely certain it belonged to it, anyways.

Maybe he should’ve cleared his desk from the odds and ends he’d been tinkering with early that morning, but then he’d desperately needed a cup of coffee, and the damn light kept blinking but no caffeine was forthcoming. Which left him with only one option.

His favorite place in the hub wasn’t even open yet, and even under threat from Handsome Jack himself, it would take so long to get the employees to the store and the roaster going, let alone bring it up to him. Jack could be patient, but he wasn’t that patient.

So… he was fixing the machine.

He lost himself to testing connecting wires to the heating element, pleased that everything seemed to be conducting correctly, and he set it aside into the ‘okay’ pile of stuff he’d checked. The curly-spring sat next to it in the ‘maybe’ pile, and everything else strewn across his desk was being categorized under ‘guess we’ll find out’.

Jack was looking into the dispenser-module when the doors to the office whooshed open. He looked up with startled puzzlement as Rhys strode through, cups of coffee in both hands and bag slung over his shoulder.

The CEO checked the time, and then the date to make sure he wasn’t mistaken, brows knit together in confusion as his PA raised a brow of his own at the mess on Jack’s desk.

“Is that… the coffee maker?” he asked, setting Jack’s own overly-sweetened usual on the desk next to what used to be the start-mechanism. “How long have you been here? Did you even go home last night, Jack?”

“Yes I went home,” Jack said honestly, though it had only been for a few hours before some emergency at one of their Eridium mines had called him back. Some time before he seriously needed a caffeine fix.

The CEO took the cup from the desk with serious gratitude, immediately sipping with a sigh of appreciation. He could feel his headache from annoyance already going away. He turned his attention back to Rhys, the younger man picking up the water-spout from the ‘okay’ pile with a frown.

Jack met the look the younger man was giving him, shrugging as he put his attention on the piece in Rhys’ hand. “Yeah, I’m fixing it. It wasn’t working, the light was blinking…”

Rhys looked at him with disbelief. “The ‘add-water’ light? Seriously? For the reservoir in the back?” His expression was half-amusement and half pity, but definitely condescending in a way that only made Jack smirk. Rhys knew he knew better. And it was also a judgment on the almost-correct assumption that Jack had slept in the office again.

It was one of the things Jack liked about Rhys-- he wasn’t so scared of him not to poke fun. He cared if Jack was getting proper sleep or not. And the longer Jack looked at him-- with the knowledge that he’d taken the entire coffee maker apart over an empty reservoir- the bigger that shit-eating grin on the younger man’s face grew.

Jack knew he should’ve just gone back home to sleep for a few hours instead of remaining in the office after the mine was dealt with. He was an engineer, dammit. He’d way over thought the problem. Wasn’t thinking straight at all.

Maybe he got the date wrong, too.

He took another appreciative sip of his coffee, giving Rhys a once-over. “Didn’t I approve your day off, kiddo?”

Rhys’ smile somewhat wilted, turning a bit awkward. “Uh, yeah…”

“Then what’re ya doing here, cupcake? Don’t get me wrong, I really needed this crap,” he said, gesturing with his cup, “like, really-really. If the mess doesn’t tell ya. So what gives?”

“Um… I only asked for the day off because me and-- and--” Rhys looked away in minor humiliation, though he didn’t bother keeping it to himself. Jack already knew, anyways. “I’d thought I was going to be having a romantic anniversary date today,” Rhys laughed as if it didn’t bother him half as much as it clearly did. “Since that’s clearly not happening, I decided to just come in.”

He looked embarrassed, as if it was anything Rhys himself should take responsibility for. Jack really would like to punch the asshole that had dumped Rhys. Right in the nose.

“Hey, his loss, my gain, right?” Jack tried for nonchalance; to bring Rhys’ mood up with usual familiarity. Rhys rolled his eyes, though he’d succeeded in making one side of the younger man’s mouth quirk in a smile.

Rhys went to his desk as routine, setting down his coffee and bag as Jack sat at his own. The CEO frowned at the unnecessary mess. He’d taken it apart pretty quickly, but putting it back together…

“What’s on the roster for today, pumpkin?”

Rhys looked up from where he sat, lowering his coffee cup from his mouth and swallowing the sip he’d taken. “Well,” he began after swallowing, pulling up the older man’s schedule. “Not much. There’s an echo-call with the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve down on Pandora… And a few department walk-throughs, weapons testing if you wanted, but that’s really about it.”

“That’s it?” Jack echoed with surprise. “Rhysie, kitten, if the day was gonna be this uneventful, you should’ve just taken it off. Have a spa-day or something.”

Rhys pouted in his direction for the older man’s lack of tact. “It’s uneventful because I thought I wouldn’t be here to assist you,” he said petulantly. “I cleared your schedule so you could just test prototypes, or something else you’d have fun on your own with that needed to be done.”

Jack’s brows were raised in clear surprise at the thoughtfulness of the younger man, even as Rhys sent him an impressive scowl. Here Rhys had planned to be away celebrating some romantic anniversary, and the PA had still tried to confirm a fun work day for Jack.

He didn’t have to do that. Hell, he could’ve forced the CEO to finally do all those budget-meetings he knew he hated. Or set up various interviews by those requesting an audience with him. He hated those things. After that little creep in genetics or whatever wanted some grant to clone him…

Well, the enthusiasm was nice at least.

“Count on you to be the perfect little PA,” Jack praised with a smirk, “but if I were you, I still would’ve chosen to sleep in. And before you say anything, I did go home last night,” Jack reiterated with an arched brow as he took a big, unapologetic slurp of his coffee.

Rhys snorted and shook his head. He appreciated Jack’s exaggerated mannerisms. It was normal. Jack being Jack. Distracting from the actual humiliation he felt over thinking his ‘boyfriend’ had been…. Well, his boyfriend.

At least he’d been dumped before wishing the other man a happy anniversary. That would’ve been a hundred times worse in Rhys’ opinion. “It’s not like I’m going to any of those reservations I made by myself, Jack. That’s just sad. And I’m pretty sure it would be pathetic to ‘be mopey’ at home all day.” Rhys was paraphrasing Jack’s own words from days previous, but the sentiment was the same.

He didn’t want to be alone with the humiliation he still felt.

Jack’s gaze stayed locked on Rhys’ own until the younger man looked away a bit somberly. He’d maybe thought the conversation was over for the most part, but the gears in Jack’s brain began turning as he considered his jilted PA.

He wanted to do something nice for Rhys. To make him feel better about the asshole that dumped him. It was such a disappointment to have had a day of fun lined up only to try to forget it ever existed. Jack wasn’t exactly familiar with the feeling himself, but he thought he could probably relate. He wanted to try to, anyways. To show Rhys that he was still a hot little leggy commodity; that Jack appreciated him and the things he did for him.

He had a couple ideas about how he could go about that.

And hell, maybe Rhys would enjoy spending some time with him, too, outside the sometimes interesting parameters of the job of being Jack’s right hand man.

“Hey kitten,” Jack spoke before he could stop himself, a smile on his face as his gaze met Rhys’ own. “How about you still have that romantic little day you planned out, hm?”

Rhys’ brows raised into his hair with bewilderment before furrowing with a pout. “I didn't want to spend the day alone,” he repeated previous words. His voice took on a bit of a sour note, not bothering to hide his mood at the perceived slight. “Am I bugging you or something, Jack?”

Jack’s smile turned to a smirk. Whether he was actually mopey or not, Rhys’ sass was still intact. “Damn baby, that asshole did a number on you, huh?” Rhys’ pout deepened into a full-blown frown, but Jack’s smirk turned toothy. “I meant, if there’s nothing important to do today otherwise, let’s just screw around.” The look Rhys leveled at him now made the older man roll his eyes. “Not like that. Geez you’re sensitive today.”

“You’re not funny.”

This was already blowing up in his face before he even got started.

Luckily, Jack knew Rhys’ weakness well-enough: “I have one echo call, and crap that frankly I’d rather save for the next time you try to make me go to a budget meeting,” Jack began quickly, “so why don’t we go get ice cream at that place you’re always telling me about or something instead? Eat out somewhere fancy for lunch, huh?” he proposed. “What other neat shit did you have planned today, pumpkin? You don’t wanna go it alone, I get it-” Jack said pointedly, “-but there’s no reason to miss out on fun because of some dick-bag, right?”

Rhys looked at him with open disbelief. “Really? Are you serious?”

Something about the tone of the younger man’s voice made the CEO feel warm under the biosynthetic skin that was his mask. Jack just grinned what he knew was a charming smile, ignoring the heat in his cheeks at the plaintive look on Rhys’ face. “I sure am, buttercup. Consider it a celebration of dodging a bullet, huh? At least you didn’t waste anymore time with that jerk.” Rhys’ lips twitched at the beginning of what might be a smile. “What’s the first thing you wanna do, huh? ...I can still set it up to have this guy dodge actual bullets, ya know.”

Rhys snorted but shook his head at the suggestion, trying to hold back the smile that wanted to break on his reddening face.

Jack wanted to dedicate a day to him, huh? That would be nice. The older man liked getting his way and always being in charge, but Rhys got the sense he genuinely wanted to do something nice for him.

He might’ve rejected the offer if he thought Jack was doing it out of pity alone, but then he was pretty sure the older man didn’t know what pity was. Jack probably just wanted a reason to further screw around all day and not work, but he sure didn’t need to include Rhys if that was his real goal… even if Rhys had thought he was trying to make him go home at first.

That was pretty damn thoughtful where his boss was considered. Jack generally only knew big gestures, but the offer to do his day with him, like he’d planned before being dumped...

Well hell, Rhys had had a nice couple of things set up before all his feelings were crushed. He’d felt too humiliated over the situation to have even cancelled his reservations and appointments, but he was also slightly depressed over missing out on them. He’d been looking forward to it. The restaurant reservation alone had taken him a month to secure, even with dropping Jack’s name.

It didn’t matter now, though, since Jack himself would be with him. The level of service was certainly going to be better than if he’d been with his not-boyfriend, that was for damn sure.

“Well… the ice cream shop was actually one of the stops in my plans,” Rhys admitted through the smiling blush on his face. He wasn’t sure yet if he wanted to let his hopes get too high, but it might be fun doing most of the same planned activities with Jack. It was better than going alone, at least. They’d probably get better service throughout the day, too.

Jack hopped up from his desk, abandoning the mess that had once been his coffee maker to come and stand before Rhys with a grin. “Cool! Great! Let’s do that then!”

Rhys gave him a look with a sort of lopsided smile. He angled his view around Jack, leaning to pointedly look at the older man’s desk. “What about the coffee maker?”

“Order another one, kiddo. Something fancy and real obvious about where the water is supposed to go. Hell, get an automated one and have the plumbers hook it while we’re gone. Never run out of water again! Ha!”

Rhys snorted at the idea, but he already knew the one he wanted to replace it with. Out with the old, in with the new. The old one had worked fine, but it was outdated and more than ready for a replacement. He counted it lucky that Jack had happened to the coffee maker. Jack could fix it if he put the time in, but it was easier (and more fun) to just buy another.

Little did Rhys know that his life was about to get the coffee maker experience in sum-total.

Both the good, and the bad.

--

kofi | ao3

[traumatized-motherfuckers]

CPTSD relationship patterns on repeat

Listen wherever you stream, search “complex trauma” and subscribe. Or, find episodes, blog posts, and a private support community at t-mfrs.com

.............................................................................................................................

Things I’ve gotten good at throughout this Trauma journey:

Seeing connections between where I’m from and where I am

Thinking for the first time about where I’m going

Letting myself have emotions

Letting those emotions go

Redirecting my energy and attention away from ruminating

Being accountable for my own feelings

Being accountable for times of being a shithead

Listening and validating other humans

Listening and validating myself

Recognizing what circumstances do/don’t work for me

Realizing how my codependency plays with relationships

Letting go of self-hate inner critic talk

Reframing events with reasonable views

Accepting myself, even when I first want to thrash myself

Semi-consistently caring for myself

Setting realistic boundaries and goals

Sleeping

Things I’m still shitty at:

Letting my overwhelm skew reality

Anxious self-slave-driving

Being a snarky turd when my head is overloaded

Taking on other people’s energies and emotions

Trusting myself in all areas of life

Forming healthy relationships.

Okay, it’s that last one that has me most perpetually fighting feelings of panic and doom.

This seems like an apt way to kick off the new year. I think a lot of us have questions about relationships and would like to improve our operations in 2021. I can also tell you, this one is extremely appropriate looking back at the last year of my life.

One of the biggest lessons I've learned in the past few spins around the sun has been how romance does - and definitely doesn't - fit into my life. I think 2020 was particularly packed full of important lectures and pop quizzes, many of which I failed. It felt like knowing that the correct answer was C, but finding my hand filling in the circle for A every time, anyways.

This is a terrible ideaaaa... and I'm doing it. Pause for about 2 months. Now I'm upset that it was a terrible idea.

Yeah, it's been great. But I have no one to blame but myself. Because as much as I've worked on this trauma management life of mine, I haven't done a good job of working on the relationship aspect of it. I've let my usual patterns dominate. And that's what needs to be examined today.

I mean. Can someone tell me about healthy relationships in functional terms? What IS that even?

Look, I’m not hoping that someone will pop up and share some, “mutual respect, good communication, trust, support, care, similar goals, similar beliefs…” sort of shit. I fucking KNOW about the idealistic, flowery terms that all the light-hearted couples counselors recommend establishing for a happy relationship. I get it.

I’m not ignorant when it comes to the ways humans should interact. I’ve had enough experience with friendships and relationships, alike, to understand the basics of person-to-person interactions. I know I talk about myself like I’ve been a feral child locked in a cage for 20 years, but the truth is that if you met me on the streets I’d probably seem like a normal, well-adapted, personable human being. That Leo Ascendant component of my personality tricks people into actually thinking I’m an extrovert who wants attention. (Hilarious, explains a lot of comments I’ve gotten in my past)

Nah, I’m not asking for the trite descriptions of a healthy partnership that everyone who’s ever been friends on a basic girl’s Facebook has seen before in cursive writing on top of a washed-out pink-tinted field. Those are empty sounding words that I don’t believe most couples manage to put into action, no matter how many selfies they take together or labradoodles they adopt.

For me, Fuckers, the mystery isn’t, “in a fairytale world, how do two humans interact to have a lifelong bliss factory?” Respect, trust, appreciation, mutual understanding… blah blah blah. What the fuck ever.

The real question is how.

And, shit, let me just be honest with all of you - not just the Patrons who’ve already heard my personal bitching - it’s on my mind because I did a thing I definitely should not have… recently, I got into a new romantic relationship that I definitely was not looking for. I’ll spare you all the details today, but know that I’ve entered it kicking and screaming, and it’s caused me a lot of grief already.

Let the life shittery begin! Can’t wait to be destroyed.

Today, I want to bring this personal fire burning in my gut into the podcast. Motherfuck me, if it hasn’t become difficult to ignore… plus, I know that a lot of us Traumatized folks are in a similar boat when it comes to relationship confusion, unhealth, and destruction. So let’s just count the ways that I have no idea how to do this right and I’m destined to be let down by my poor choices.

This time around, I'm bringing you a list of all the ways I tend to fuck things up with other humans. In part, due to Complex Trauma. In other part, probably due to my own personal shortcomings. Listed in no particular order. On a later date, I'm going to be revisiting a lot of these patterns as I examine how early life set a lot of us up for a lot of abuse acceptance in greater detail. Stick around for those continuations on romantic disaster, if this sounds like you, too.

I'm talking about:

Partner choice: Musicians, narcissists, and addicts

Emotional codependency

Mistrust

… That turns into willful blind belief of their words

Inadequacy

Parenting analogues

Authority figures & disappointment

Misdirected commitment

Learned helplessness

Partner choice: Musicians, narcissists and addicts

Who has bad taste in partners? Over and over and over again? It’s me! And probably a lot of you.

Maybe that’s not fair. Maybe they’ve been wonderful guys who just didn’t mesh well with my inner or outer world… but I can tell you, there have been some similarities, and they don’t bode well for a happy future together.

You know me by now. Difficulty connecting with “normal” humans, no interest in small talk, a huge fan of deep emotional honesty, a bit gritty and assholeish, tends to be repelled by anything too widely embraced by the general public, definitely comes with a difficult past, fears of the future, and ongoing challenges in the present.

So, who do you think I get along with? Ivy leaguers with stable, supportive families, an optimistic outlook, and a 20-year plan? Or equally messy and complex humans with a set of neuroses handed down from their unexamined early traumas that make them similarly bitter and disillusioned with life? Just… probably hidden from immediate sight.

Grown men who’ve responsibly built a life for themselves with ambition, personal insight, and balance? Or man-children who’re still figuring out that they can’t drink every night of the week if they want to be functional in life and financially sound? But... with their addictions hidden behind “an appreciation for fine whiskies” or a necessity to sample the craft beer they brew.

Independent, confident humans who have no problem running their own world like a boss and trust that I’m capable of doing the same, with integrity and respect? Or distrustful turds who need me to be in their sight, half-directing their lives at all times unless I’m aiming to be accused of cheating, lying, and being unable to care for myself? Only… they hide their controlling and aggressive tendencies behind go-with-the-flow facades in the beginning.

If you guessed “B” in all three examples, you are correct!

Plus... so, so many musicians. Like, the last 6 of them have either subscribed to guitar or drum camp. And that hasn't been a purposeful decision - those are just the men I get along with until we hate each other.

It's always a rapid connection, a mutual respect for our interests in the arts, and a shared shitty attitude that starts out directed at the world and ends directed at each other. So many emotions. So many ups and downs. So many proclamations of "I can't live without you!" until the day we run in opposite directions and never look back.

Is that a coincidence? Or are all musical folk a bit wild? I hate to generalize, but I can tell you with great amusement that if you start typing "Are all musicians..." into Google, it will autocomplete with "cheaters, narcissists, and crazy." It also suggests "rich," but I can tell you for a fact that isn't true. The narcissist thing... uh.... very well might be correct. But I'll leave that for someone else to study.

So, I don't know what to make of this trend. There do seem to be some commonalities between the musicians in my past life - and they do seem to be categorized by the instrument of choice. For instance, drummers are never concerned with my time, and guitarists are emotional catastrophes. But what do I know? Can't make sweeping conclusions... I, at least, need a larger sample size. With my track record, I'm sure I'll have the numbers soon enough.

Congratulations if you predicted nothing but unstable disasters in my past. It's true, I’m an idiot. Okay, that’s not fair. No inner critic talk. Get out of here, Pam and Karen.

The fact of the matter is, I am a terrible judge of character when I start sensing a connection. I tend to connect with people who have complicated lives and inner worlds, just like I do. And from what I can tell, that is always my downfall.

Challenging connections

Let’s go ahead and chalk this one up to never having close connections or support growing up.

You know what I always wanted, hoped for, and idealized as a kid? Someone loving me. Another human actually understanding my weirdness and signing on for more. The idea of a human who wanted to know what I thought and felt. The option of spending time with someone and feeling cared for. Also, somebody finding me attractive, instead of being repulsed by my ass-length ginger hair, flat chest, dorky hand-me-downs, bleach-stained horse sweaters, and buck teeth... also would have been a dream come true.

I’m pretty sure that growing up lonely didn’t help me in any regard when it came to my later-in-life relationship problems. Starving for connection apparently puts you in a state of deprivation, where you’re likely to think anything is better than the empty feeling inside. You know, just for the rest of your life or so.

To this day, if I meet someone and we’re able to converse without abundant clarifications or apologies for the prickly things that come out of my mouth as dry humor or unbendable opinions… we’re on a roll. If we can connect over shared perspectives on humans, life, and psychology… things are getting more serious. If we can honestly talk about the ways we’re horrible to ourselves and joke about our shared challenges in figuring out what the point of this shitty slip-and-slide of life is about… uh oh, this might be a real connection.

And so, it makes sense that I connect with all the most complicated people you’d ever meet. And we connect INTENSELY. I’m complicated, myself, and I look for folks who can accept it without their heads exploding. I’m never going to be happy holding conversations with Sports Bar Joe or Pretty Boy Blaine. They’re never going to understand the internal strife that dominates my world. I’m never going to understand how they can be all *happy,* *close with their families,* and *laid back about life.*

Gross. I can’t even say the words.

But give me the angstiest, most anxious, most misunderstood dude on the block, and we’re likely to get along swimmingly. We’ll talk over beers until the birds start to chirp. We’ll joke in our native tongues, playing with words, obscure references, and dry humor as if we’ve known each other for 25 years. We’ll share secrets about our tumultuous inner worlds and the ways that we can’t seem to get our heads on straight enough to keep our ships on course.

And the next thing you know, we’ll be incestuously connected with a somewhat false sense of intimacy that erupts out of the gates. “No one has ever understood me the way you do. I can really be myself around you. I’ve never had such easy conversations about this shit before.”

… That’s about the point when I lose all perspective. There’s a tunnel running from my face to this dude’s heart. I stop seeing things for what they are. I project a kinder, gentler, more well-intended personality on the subject of my feels. I quickly turn a blind eye to all the shit they’re doing that I wholeheartedly hate or otherwise cause my red flags to be unpacked.

I feel like I know them, inside and out. I feel like I can help them - like we can help each other - to sort through this dumb world we’ve been born into and all the circumstances holding us back. A real Sid and Nancy storyline emerges. No one gets him like I do. If only they could see the things I see. We’re just two broken souls who found each other, a little rough around the edges, but we see the diamonds underneath. And we’re in this battle together from now on.

Yeah, right.

Sooooo… This is how I wind up with the unpredictable narcissists who seem like nice guys, the secret addicts who keep their substance abuse hidden from everyone, and the emotional abusers who are ready to leverage my mental health admissions against me the first time they get the chance. Dudes who have highly emotional worlds and no idea how to deal with them. Men who don’t want to explore their own shortcomings and instead choose avoidant courses in life.

And, again, the musicians. So, so many musicians. I really am coming to think that they’re the most fucked up people of all - and that's saying a lot coming from me. Generally speaking, I've seen that there’s no sense of personal responsibility, an obsession with themselves, and a hidden inferiority complex that turns them into bitchy little dogs when they feel threatened. What’s with that, anyways? Can you guys try to be more original in your plight to be the most original?

Okay, anyways. Sorry to keep dragging on musicians.

The point is, my attempts at relationships start out on the wrong foot. Choosing the wrong partner is a pretty surefire way to dash all hopes for those fluffy ideals I mentioned earlier. No one is going to respect me, listen to me, or support me when they’re too busy dealing with their own alcoholism, abandonment issues, and narcissistic flailings… or, not dealing with them, to be more specific.

We aren’t going to be able to work through things when they’re consumed with being the king of the world, hiding from all negative emotions, and trying to keep their head away from analysing their own actions. Hell, it’ll be difficult to even find the time for serious talks, since they’re so busy traveling to band practices, hustling away for barely-paying gigs, and staring at their social media while they count the ways they’re victims of the universe.

Choose imbalanced, mentally ill, self-serving partners… get unhealthy, controlling, unpredictable relationships. Pretty goddamn obvious. And yet, I still can never seem to see the full picture of the human who’s caught my attention through the fog that’s created by the connection of our shared dysfunctions.

I guess this is where that, “love yourself and get yourself healthy first,” sentiment comes into play, so the connections don’t continue to be as disasterious as your personal experience is. Hopefully I’m on the right path in my own journey, at least. Also, a lot less starved for connection. I got y’all Motherfuckers in the Discord community, for starters. And I’ve become determined to live a life where I support myself and rely on no one outside of Archie’s snuggles, for finishers.

Step one: Be careful about who you deem a good person, just because you can share self-deprecating jokes about being nutjobs and similar musical interests. Learn to choose someone who isn’t an even trashier trash human than you are. It’s a start.

Emotional codependency

Hand in hand with forming connections that include deep emotional outpourings and admissions of all the dark things we hide from the light at our office jobs… comes codependency.

I’ve said it before and let me say it again… I didn’t understand codependency until very recently.

In my mind, it was akin to those creepy couples who won’t leave the house without each other, have the same friends, interests, and opinions on everything... and possibly wear matching cat shirts. Those people who never spend time with other humans because they're too busy being shoved up their partner’s ass. The folks who call to check in on each other throughout the day when they’re at work. Gag. Particularly, I imagined those pathetic girls who cry when their boyfriend is out of sight and post 12 pictures a day of them together.

Rightfully, I scoffed and insisted that I didn't have problems with codependency. That’s not me. But it turns out, this view isn’t quite right, so much as I was being an uninformed asshole.

Codependency doesn’t mean you’re a needy, incapable human being who sucks the life power out of someone else, like I used to think. Codependency is a two-way relationship defined by poor boundaries and non-existent emotional regulation. Two humans who see their experiences as one, all the way down to how they feel and how they deal with how they feel. (i.e. turning to their significant other for comfort and emotional control in a time of need instead of working through it by themselves). Relationships where the emotions are transferred from party to party until it's unclear who’s bringing what dish to the gathering. Waking up not knowing how your day is going to be, because it depends on how someone else feels about theirs. Emotional enablement city.

Oh, yeah, when you put it like that, I definitely have issues with codependency.

For me, the codependency is largely going to be emotional. In the past, I didn’t know how to have a relationship of any sort without having a third influence in the mix. There was the person, myself, and our shared emotions... that often called more shots than either of us did.

Because I tend to be on the empath scale (although I do everything I can to fight it out of defense), I think I’m naturally tuned into other people’s emotional and energetic states, for better or for worse. When someone walks into the room with a bad vibe, I feel it to my core. I become so uncomfortable that I take it on myself to try to “fix” the problem for them, and in doing so, I avoid the negative sensation, myself. This is negative reinforcement, if anyone wanted to ABA with me.

That being said, clearly if my boo is having a hard time… it’s not okay. They’re in a shit place and therefore so am I. I must do whatever I can to make it better. To sit down and talk in circles with them, if that’s what relieves some of their tension. To commiserate about how unfair the circumstances are. To validate the negativity that they’re projecting and wallowing in.

Don’t worry though, this goes the other way, too. In the past, I have fully expected my romantic partners to alleviate any inner discomfort that I’ve felt. If I was having a low-down day, I wanted them to cheer me up. If I was full of anxiety, I wanted them to find a way to release it. If I was frustrated with a work situation or coworker, I wanted them to be as angry and indignant as I felt.

So… I guess that doesn’t even sound too off-base to me, at least not when I’m leaning on my teenage expectations of what relationships are supposed to be. In my head, it was always completely ideal that I would wind up with someone who could essentially read my thoughts and comfort me like my family never did. I just wanted someone who would be by my side, thinking about me all the time, and working double time to make sure I was keeping my depression and anxiety on the up-and-up. Is that too much to ask? Uh… yeah, it is.

Maybe in a fairytale love story like the ones I saw in teenage romance movies growing up, this is the perfect way for two broken misfits to interact. “We’re both so damaged and hurt that no one has ever really seen us - but now we have each other to lick our shared wounds.” Yeah, romantic. Also really fucked up and dangerous in the real world.

The problem is, after a few months of this, it gets pretty hard to determine what’s my experience and what’s yours. The emotions become so transitive that it can be invigorating, immersive, overwhelming, and exhausting to be in each other’s company, depending on the day and the event. Living together or essentially sharing a residence makes it much worse - there’s no physical barrier between us, so that emotional barrier is even less existent. We don't have to try to text about our woes, we can just unleash them the moment we step foot in the door. Ready or not, your night is about to be ruined by my day, and vice-versa.

How does this go wrong? Uh, let’s count the ways.

1. My emotional management was never up to par, in the first place. Having your feelings catapulted my way effectively pushes me off the balance beam that I was already wobbling on. If I was having a difficult day but holding it together on my own through coping techniques and reasonable thinking - fucking forget it, that’s over now. We’re both in a shitty state now. Great. In the context of trying to recover from mental health issues… yeah, it’s a fucking disaster. Being retriggered by your partner or sucked into a depressive undertow when you’re trying to make positive change is a losing battle.

2. I never learned how to cope with my own emotions. There was generally someone else for me to hurtle them at, and our subsequent hours of bitching would give me the comfort I was looking for. I didn’t need to learn to manage my feelings - I always had a glorified babysitter to keep me alive. I never had to be accountable for my inner world. I never had to look at things with logic or reason. I could let myself spiral and trust that my best friend or boyfriend would catch me before I slipped down the drain.

3. It becomes impossible to talk about issues - personal or shared. When you’re already sharing emotions there’s an explosive effect when conflict is brought up. Neither one of us knows how to handle our shit, we expect the other person to hold us up with kid gloves, annnd now that person is the source of my distress? We’re both completely beside ourselves, upset, hurt, and angry… and it’s towards each other? Now who the fuck do we call? There's a huge sense of confusion and betrayal. No one has the skills to de-escalate the argument or return to a normal emotional state.

4. How do you break up when half of your existence is in the body of another human? You can’t mentally or emotionally separate yourself from them. Physically separating yourself feels like ripping out a few of your organs and leaving them on the streets. And, who’s going to keep you afloat when you’re going through the pain of the break up? That’s the job of your partner, afterall… can’t have a vacant desk sitting here. It’s best to just suck it up and stick with it. No one would understand what you’ve both been through together, anyways.

In a word, that’s codependency.

Not what people think it is. Not what our culture describes it as. Not so easy to spot until you’re educated and honest with yourself… plus, probably viewing things through the lenses of hindsight.

Definitely a sneaky recipe for disaster when you let it take over a well-intended, emotionally transparent, highly connective relationship. And, Motherfuckers, I’ve always tended to.

 Head to t-mfrs.com for more!

[remywrites5]

Hey I love your stories and kept reading older ones for the whole weekend. Could you by any means if you have time write a fluffy get together story with either Jegulus or Spideypool? Maybe something from the fake exes prompt list that I cant find anymore? Thank you so much for all the cuteness you're delivering with your stories! ❤

You’re very welcome! Glad you like them and thanks for prompting me!

           Peter groaned internally as he noticed MJ making a beeline for him across campus. If there were less people around he would have made a quick getaway, but since there were endless amounts of people milling about, Peter was stuck.

           He knew what this was about before MJ even opened her mouth. They’d broken up over a year ago, and while MJ was happily dating a girl named Gwen from her Women’s Studies class, Peter had yet to move on. It wasn’t like he was still pining after MJ because their split had been amicable, since Peter was a bit busy with his first year at NYU and being Spider-man. It was hard to find time to meet anyone new and besides there was the pain of keeping his secret from someone.

           “Peter,” she said, plopping down across from him. “When was the last time you went out on a date?”

           Peter couldn’t help smiling despite himself. It was something he’d always liked about MJ, her blunt honest approach to things. “Come on, MJ,” he said, rolling his eyes.

           “Peter,” she said sternly, not giving him an inch to wiggle out of this conversation.

           Peter sighed heavily. “I went out on a date last night actually but nothing came of it, so…” Peter shrugged and buried his face in his chemistry book.

           “With who?” MJ asked, raising an eyebrow at him, putting a hand on his book and forcing him to lower it. 

           Peter scrambled for a minute to think of a name, any name to get her off his back. It shouldn’t have been so difficult to come up with someone believable. Instead he grabbed at the only name he could think of sitting in the dark recess of his mind. “It was Wade Wilson.”

           “Deadpool?” MJ said, her nose crinkling. “Seriously?”

           “What?” Peter asked defensively. Fuck, he should have just made up someone. This was going to get him into so much trouble. In the past few years, Peter and Wade had struck up something almost like a friendship. And although he’d never told anyone this, he’d spent an alarming amount of time thinking about the Merc in ways he probably shouldn’t have. Like Peter, it wasn’t like Wade’s suit left much up to the imagination and damn all those muscles. His shoulder to hip ratio was nearly as impressive as Captain America’s. And sure, Peter had seen what was under the mask and it wasn’t exactly pretty but it was fascinating in a way Peter couldn’t really explain.

           “I’m sorry, Peter, it’s just a little difficult to picture,” MJ said, chuckling. “Why didn’t thinks work out?”

           Peter hated himself for lying to her. Now his lies were snowballing and there was nothing he could do to stop it. All he could do was continue to tell fibs. “He, uh…he wanted to go a little faster than I did.”

           MJ frowned. “He didn’t take things too far, did he?”

           “What?” Peter asked, his jaw dropping when he realized what she was implying. “No, of course not!”

           “Okay, good,” MJ said, letting out a sigh of relief. “Why don’t we give him a call?”

           “No!” Peter said, shaking his head emphatically. “I don’t…I don’t want to embarrass myself any further than I probably already have.”

           MJ reached out and took Peter’s hand in hers. “Peter, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Now hand me your phone. I’m assuming you have his number?”

           “Yes,” Peter said dejectedly, handing over his phone to her, knowing better than to argue. She typed in the code from memory and Peter made a mental note to change his passcode. She scrolled through until she found Wade’s number.

           Please don’t pick up. Please don’t pick up, Peter silently prayed. The last thing he needed was Wade answering the phone and telling MJ he had no idea what she was talking about.

           “Baby boy!” Wade said, answering the phone after the third ring. Peter cringed as his stomach fell out his ass with dread. “This is a pleasant surprise!”

           MJ gave him a look at the pet name. Maybe she just didn’t know that was what Wade was like. “Actually this is his friend, MJ?”

           “Everything kosher?” Wade asked sounding slightly concerned. Peter was thankful for his super hearing so he could listen in on Wade’s side of the conversation.

           “Yeah,” MJ told him while grinning at Peter. “Peter’s fine. He told me you two went out on date last night.”

           Peter held his breath.

           “And what, you’d like all the details you saucy little minx?”

           Peter struggled to hide his complete and utter shock. Wade was actually playing along with this? Why? How?

           “Peter said it didn’t work out,” MJ informed him. “Because you were pushing him into a physical relationship.”

           “Oh, was that why he bolted?” Wade asked. Peter had to admire his performance. For a moment he actually believed they’d been on a date the night before too. “I would never have done anything my baby boy didn’t want.”

           “I’m glad to hear that,” MJ told him. “If you get a second chance please take good care of Peter, okay? I promise he’s worth the wait.”

           Peter felt himself blush furiously.

           “Oh, I’m well aware of that.”

           “Do you want to speak to Peter?”

           Peter waved his hands around signaling that no, he absolutely did not want to talk to Wade. Instead he had his phone pushed into his hands and with trepidation he brought it up to his ear. “Hi Wade.”

           “Petey, I’m not sure what just happened, but I’m pretty sure you owe me.”

           Peter rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, I think so too.” He risked a glance over at MJ who was nodding encouragingly at him.

           “My place tonight,” Wade said, the grin evident in his voice. “Eight O’clock. Wear something sexy. Just kidding, you look sexy in anything.”

           “Wade, I – “

           Before Peter could protest, Wade had hung up the phone. Peter closed his eyes and counted to ten before opening them again.

           “See!” MJ said, looking smug. “You get a second shot. No point in putting him in the exes pile after one lousy date. You have to give people a chance, Peter.”

           “Yeah,” Peter said, looking down at his phone and wondering how he’d ended up so utterly screwed.

                                                           ***

           Peter got to Wade’s apartment in the Bronx by 7:55. He figured he might as well be punctual since he couldn’t sit at home dreading this night for another single second. He rapped his knuckles on the door and waited.

           Deadpool opened the door and grinned. “Hi Petey,” he said, stepping back and letting Peter enter the apartment. The place was a fucking mess, bullets scattered around, empty pizza boxes, Taco Bell wrappers, used cups on the coffee table. Wade Wilson, it seemed, lived like a god damn Ninja Turtle. 

           “Couldn’t manage to clean up a little?” Peter teased, crossing his arms over his chest.

           Wade shrugged. “Wasn’t sure you’d actually show.”

           Peter actually felt a bit bad about that. He knew Wade had asked him to hang out before and Peter had bailed on him several times. In his defense though, it was usually either school or Spider-man related. You just never knew when a bad guy was going to rob a bank or kidnap your Aunt.

           “I want to thank you for playing along today,” Peter told him, scratching his cheek nervously. “MJ means well but she has a tendency to overstep. It’s probably how she found out I was Spider-man so quick.”

           “No need to thank me, Petey,” Wade told him as he went around the room and started to clean up. “You’d do the same for me if any of my exes were butting into my personal life. The next time Nathan shows his ugly mug in this timeline I’m expecting you to answer the call.”

           Peter laughed. “It’s a deal,” he promised.

           They fell into a companionable silence as they tidied up the room a little bit. Once all the trash was away and the bullets found their way back into the boxes they’d come out of, Peter and Wade made themselves comfortable on the couch. Wade put on some rom-com from the 90’s but Peter made him switch it because the main characters looked like Mr. Stark and his Aunt May and that was just too unsettling. Instead they put on The Breakfast Club with Wade doing the “No dad what about you” speech verbatim with the film.

           “You’re a dork,” Peter mocked, playfully kicking Wade with his foot.

           Wade grinned at him. “You’re just jealous.”

           Peter laughed. “Extremely.”

           It was a surprisingly fun evening and Peter enjoyed not having to study or fight crime, he could just sit with Wade and be. It was a rare thing these days to just be able to take a night off. Being around Wade was relaxing and fun, both of them talking a bunch of shit throughout the film since they’d each seen it plenty of times.

           It was a rare thing to see Wade outside the suit and Peter was enjoying all the different facial expressions he’d missed when Wade wore the mask. All the subtle little smiles and facial ticks that he normally wouldn’t have been privy too were almost intoxicating to behold. Peter found himself categorizing them all, which meant he spent more time than he probably should staring at Wade.

           By the time the movie was over, Peter had his feet nestled under Wade’s thigh with Wade’s hand on his leg, rubbing it absentmindedly. They both stretched and Wade did a comical yawn. “So, will there be more fake dates or are you going to come up with another reason why we shouldn’t be together?”

           Peter balked at him for a moment. “I-I…” Peter’s words fell flat, as he had no idea what to say in response.

           “Don’t worry about it, Petey,” Wade said, letting him off the hook. He stood up and started to walk away. Without thinking, Peter shot out a web and hauled Wade back until Wade landed unceremoniously in top of him. “Petey?” he said in surprise, his eyes searching Peter’s, his hands bracketing either side of Peter’s head.

           Peter swallowed thickly. “Maybe I don’t wanna play pretend,” he whispered quietly.

           “This doesn’t have to be anything, Peter,” Wade murmured, still giving Peter an out if he wanted it.

           Peter was more than a little shocked to find he didn’t.

           “Wade if you don’t fucking kiss me soon I’m going to have MJ call you again and give you a stern talking to,” Peter growled, wrapping his legs around Wade to lock him in place.

           “Oh god, anything but that!” Wade said, feigning terror as he tried not to smile.

           “Well?” Peter asked, looking up at Wade expectantly.

           “Baby boy, you don’t gotta tell me twice,” Wade said, lowering himself down and capturing Peter’s lips in a kiss that was downright Earth shattering. “Not going too fast for you, am I, Petey?” Wade asked him tauntingly. “Wouldn’t want to blow this again.”

           Peter couldn’t even find it in him to be annoyed by the jibe. “M’good,” he said, feeling better than he had in a long time, having the comfortable weight of Wade on top of him. “Kiss me again.”

           “Bossy,” Wade chided but complied.

           Peter started a new list in his mind, categorizing all the different wonderful and devastating ways Wade W. Wilson could kiss him. He was looking forward to continuing the list on his next date.

[lihikainanea]

what are your thoughts on that line about sexual fidelity and love? do you agree? I hate cheating and don't understand why it's wrong to believe love means fidelity and commitment, romantically and sexually. I mean I watched this for bill but now I have many thoughts and they aren't all related to his bare chest (although a lot of them are). xD

Anonymous said:

The line about sexual fidelity not equating love is true but it still doesn't justify cheating, sometimes love is not enough, people also seek loyalty and honesty in a relationship lmao what was McGreevy trying to do here? azsdfghjkl

It’s not wrong. Let’s be clear bubs--anything that you want, that you NEED out of a relationship is not wrong. Ever. And it never needs to be justified. If you need it, then you need it. It’s that simple. You don’t even need to know WHY you need it.

I mean look, I have wildly unpopular opinions about cheating and fidelity in general, but they’ve always worked for me and for the dudes I’ve been with--so just bear that in mind. I’m not asking you to agree, I’m just asking for a bit of a...uh, a spirit of understanding, about it.

I actually agree with Bill’s character--I don’t equate sexual fidelity with love. And I don’t think cheating is a particularly big deal(for me, kids--if it is for you, that’s fine)  maybe because I never really expected monogamy from my partners. At least not in a physical way. A partner falling in love or developing legitimate feelings for someone else is a far bigger betrayal for me than him just deciding to have random sex in the heat of the moment.

I believe in emotional cheating. I think developing serious feelings for someone other than your partner while continuing to see them both...that, to me, would be cheating.

But I don’t think a random, spontaneous physical act based solely in seeking pleasure ruins an intimate, emotionally fulfilling relationship. 

At the end of the day, I really differentiate intimacy in a few different ways. To me, sex does not equal intimacy, but intimacy sometimes means sex. I’ve had sex with dudes whose names I don’t even know. It wasn’t intimate. It was bing bang BOOOOOOM thank you very much, buh bye. There was zero intimacy in it. I’m an impulsive person, I feel things strongly and spontaneously and I enjoy losing myself in the heat of the moment, going out on a limb, getting that thrill. To me, there’s the type of sex that is adrenaline-based and has nothing at all to do with the heart--man, it’s alllllll raw, primal energy. It’s losing yourself in the moment. It’s the category of sex where you have an itch that needs to be scratched and literally the first person you see is good enough, and that’s it. There’s zero emotion involved in it, and it never upset me if the dude I was with kind of went for it. We’re physical beings, we have urges and we tame a whole bunch of other shit--why tame that?

But if a dude had a really heartfelt conversation with her, if he started talking about his fears and aspirations, if he started saying no to me to start going out with her--I’d kill him dead. That, to me, is cheating.

Being horny and deciding to do something about it if I’m not an option, for whatever reason? Meh.I’m not phased by it.

For a lot of people out there, love means fidelity, commitment, monogamy. But for a whole bunch of us out here, love and sex are kind of categorized. You have sex with the people you love, but you don’t need to love everyone you have sex with.

[recurring-polynya]

Sometimes, when I don’t feel like writing the things I am supposed to be working on, I have a document worth of drabbley post-TYBWA stuff where I’m working out how Renji and Rukia actually manage to get family-approval for their relationship and subsequently get married. It’s pretty rough and I never finish any of the parts.

In any case, @sillier-things mentioned recently that she liked stories about making babies and I told her I would write her a drabble, so I wrote a little story about family planning, because I am a thirty-eight year old, deeply boring woman, and because I need, in my heart, for Ichika to have been extremely planned.

So, I wrote this, mostly for me, and I hope you like it, too. If you don’t, I’ll just write you another one. Takes place in the late fall, between the TYBWA and their wedding, they are betrothed. (Renji likes to pronounce “betrothed” with three syllables and in his Byakuya voice). PG for some raunchy sex talk.

Some background from the other parts that maybe I’ll finish someday?:

- Renji beat Byakuya in a fight and then turned in his paperwork for dating Rukia

- Byakuya was will to let Renji marry into the Kuchiki family, but Renji realized that Rukia would be happier living a more independent life, and asked Byakuya if she could marry out of the family instead. Byakuya refused to let her marry a nobody, so he did what anyone would: named Renji his vassal.

- Renji somehow managed to buy a house that his 4th Seat won in a poker game off some other noble idiot (I wrote this part once when I got really nostalgic about their house from Between Tides, I told you I was a deeply boring person)

- Byakuya is not as recovered from his fight with As Nodt as everyone thinks he is. (Renji and Rukia know, tho)

Rukia sat on a tall bar stool, while Renji stuffed gyoza on the other side of the kitchen island. She was going down a long checklist. “Last one!”

“Surely not!”

“Surely yes! Do you want to use the good silver chopsticks?”

“The ones that are slippery as hell? No.”

“You’re getting pretty good at them,” Rukia said, propping one elbow up on the counter.

“I’m not worried about me. We get to invite our friends to this thing, too, right? In addition to all 900 of your relatives?”

“They’re your relatives now, too, Mr. Branch Family Head,” Rukia reminded him. “Whether you marry me or not. And yes, we can invite our friends to this thing, or as I like to call it, our wedding.”

Renji plopped another dumpling onto his tray. “Well, I don’t want Ikkaku to shove a metal chopstick in my ear on my wedding day, so can we please use normal ones? Is that allowed?”

“We can use the second most fancy chopsticks, I still wouldn’t categorize them as ‘normal.’”

“So, is that it? You’re really out of questions?”

“I’m out of wedding-related questions. You still haven’t told me why you’re making enough gyoza to feed your entire squad.”

“Because it’s easier to make them in big batches, they freeze really well.”

Rukia waved an arm at the room behind her, which was mostly full of boxes. “You don’t have anything better to do? You moved in three weeks ago, have you unpacked anything?”

“I unpacked the kitchen stuff, obviously. And you’re here. I know how you like it when I wear this apron.”

Rukia folded her arms on the counter and rested her chin on them. “Renji. You’re still sleeping in the barracks, aren’t you?”

Renji stared deeply into his bowl of pork and cabbage. It was much more forgiving than his fiancee. “This house is really big. It gets lonely at night. I still don’t see why I had to move in first.”

“How am I supposed to marry into your family if your family doesn’t even have a house? What sort of poor excuse for a noble are you anyway?” Rukia teased him.

“The worst,” Renji agreed cheerfully.

Rukia’s smile wavered a little. “It’s not too big, is it? For just two people?”

“It’ll be perfect when you’re here, I promise. If it’s still too big, we’ll get that bunny you’ve always wanted." 

Renji expected some shouting on the topic of bunnies, but instead, Rukia was quiet. He looked up from his dumplings to see her chewing on her bottom lip pensively. "Renji? Can I ask you something?” she asked as his eyes met hers.

“Nope!” he replied. “You said you were done! You blew your wad on centerpieces and great-uncles!”

She gave him a withering stare.

“Of course you can ask me anything, dummy,” he chided her.

Rukia sat up and leaned back as far as she could without falling off her stool. “Do you wanna have kids?”

Renji blinked. “Well…” he said slowly. 

Rukia waited.

“To be honest, I’ve spent a lot of time on my figure. I’m worried you wouldn’t find me attractive anymore if I couldn’t lose the weight afterwards–”

“Oh, shut up, you are the worst!” Rukia looked around for something she could throw at him, but the best thing she could come up with was a dish towel, which he ducked easily. “I’m being serious, here!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he chuckled, not sounding very sorry. “Do you want to have kids?”

“No! No dodging! I asked you first!”

They stared at each other, eyes narrowed.

“What if we said it at the same time?” Renji suggested.

“That seems like a terrible idea, but it is fair. Let’s do it.”

“Okay, on three, then. One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

“Yes,” said Rukia at the same time as Renji said, “I do, but I feel it puts an unfair burden on you and I know being a good leader to your squad is something you take very seriously and I won’t feel like anything is missing from– did you just say 'yes’?”

“I knew you hadn’t thought this through properly,” Rukia muttered.

He threw a piece of wadded up dough at her head. She caught it.

“You moron!” she scolded. “You’re the head of a family, now! What kind of a dick do you think I am, that I would agree to marry you with no intention of bearing you an heir!”

Renji’s face split into a lopsided grin. “First of all, if you say the phrase 'bearing me an heir’ again, I am going to be so overcome with passion that I will be unable to wait until our marital vows, and I’ll have my way with you right here and now.”

Rukia rolled her eyes. As if he gave half a shit about wedding vows. As if they hadn’t done it already once today within five minutes of her walking in the door.

“Secondly, who the hell else would I marry? I’ve already incorporated Sode no Shirayuki’s tsuba into my family crest.” He shoved up his sleeve for emphasis, as if she had somehow forgotten what it looked like, the segmented oval of her released sword’s guard, bisected by a lightning bolt. She couldn’t believe he’d gotten it tattooed on the inside of his forearm on the same day Byakuya declared him a one-man vassal family. She also couldn’t believe he wouldn’t let her get a matching one until they were actually married. Apparently Seireitei tattoo artists were very serious about not doing clan symbols without permission. At least he was finally willing to wear long sleeves again, now that it was November. 

“That’s your problem,” she informed him.

“My favorite problem,” he announced. “The branch family thing is nice, I guess, but mostly I just care about being married to you. You don’t need to feel obligated to–”

Rukia threw the dough ball back at his head. It hit him square in the forehead and bounced off. “Look, you lunkhead. I don’t know if I would be any good at being a mom, but it’s just stupidly obvious how good a dad you would be, not to mention how hot you would be in one of those baby sling things. Don’t you dare try to deny it, as you stand there in your dumb apron, making your freezer meals.”

His cheeks had gone a little pink. “All I was gonna say is that I think you would be a pretty awesome mom. You can skateboard. I can’t skateboard. You… you really want to?”

Rukia shrugged, a little defensively. “We had a pretty shitty childhood, y’know, but we all took care of each other. We did okay. We were happy. I feel like… like it would be nice to actually take care of someone. Give them food and hugs and tell them stories and all the stuff no one ever did for us. That I would like to do that with you.”

Renji was regarding her strangely.

“What?” Rukia huffed.

“I just really like you, y’know,” he said softly. 

Now Rukia was the one with pink cheeks. “Also, I just feel like I could make a really good baby,” she proclaimed. “Especially with your help. Imagine a kid with my brains and aesthetic and your height and abs.”

“You do realize we’re just as likely to get an angry shorty with my hair and your stubbornness,” Renji informed her dryly. “Not to mention a foul mouth because there’s no way we’re gonna remember to watch our language around them.”

“Sounds perfect to me, either way,” Rukia replied.

Renji grinned and continued on with his dumpling stuffing. “All right, Kuchiki. I’m game if you are.”

“I am,” Rukia confirmed. “When do you want to start?”

Renji guffawed. “You do not mess around, do you? My hands are covered in ground meat at the moment–”

“Be serious! Besides, I already cast the all-purpose protection kidou on you today and I’m very good at it, so it’ll probably last a full eight hours.”

Renji shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You be serious. Wouldn’t you rather wait until you get a new captain in place?”

Rukia stuck her lower lip out. “Uhhh, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

Renji looked up, regarding her under lowered eyelids. “Yesssss?”

Rukia made a squirmy face. “The Head-Captain talked to me the other day. He, uh, said that with all the losses overall, and the fact that there aren’t really any good candidates, he wants to keep the 13th small for the next couple of years and let me, um, growintothecaptaincy.”

Renji raised one eyebrow at her, looking very proud, but not saying anything.

“He wants to do the same with the Seventh,” Rukia quickly excused. “And he’s going to talk to Captain Hitsugaya about mentoring me, both as a captain and with my bankai. That’s the real issue, y'know, that with a bankai like that, I should really know what I’m doing before I have any business captaining a squad.”

“I hear you,” Renji agreed.

Rukia narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what you told Captain Kyouraku when he asked you to take the Seventh? He said you turned him down.”

Renji winced.

“Because you told me,” Rukia went on loftily, “ that Souou Zabimaru was much easier to maneuver than Hihiou Zabimaru.”

“Something about how I still had a lot to learn from Captain Kuchiki,” Renji grumbled. “Besides, the Seventh is Iba’s squad. He’s not that far from bankai. I even told Kyouraku I’d help him train for it.”

“It might be awhile before you get another chance,” Rukia pointed out softly.

Renji was stuffing dumplings very aggressively now. “Your brother needs me right now, you know that, even if I wasn’t gettin’ married to the most demanding woman in Soul Society next month. I don’t care that much about making captain. I care a lot about my family.”

Byakuya’s battle with As Nodt had very nearly killed him. At the time, Captain Unohana had predicted that, even if he lived, he would never hold a sword again. He had proved her wrong, of course, trained in the Royal Realm, taken up his haori again. But he wasn’t the same. HIs power was greatly reduced, his endurance as well. He could no longer reach the advanced stages of his bankai. 

Captain Kuchiki was one of the most powerful captains in the Gotei. It would take a strong opponent indeed to press him hard enough to even notice these changes. But Byakuya knew. And his lieutenant, who had finally bested him in battle, knew, too.

Byakuya’s previous strength might still return. It might simply take time. Having an eager young vice-captain– powerful enough to pass the captain’s exam, but lacking the experience, made a convenient cover for delegating combat and other physically taxing duties. Especially now that Byakuya had acknowledged Renji as a protege of sorts, head of a Kuchiki branch family, and promised Byakuya’s own beloved sister, it appeared outwardly that it was the captain supporting his vice-captain, rather than the other way around.

Rukia smiled fondly at the vice-captain in question. “I like you a lot, too, y'know.” She paused thoughtfully. “I don’t have to be a captain, either. It is a lot. I can tell Kyouraku to find someone else.”

“Tch!” Renji huffed. “Someone’s gotta bring glory to our family name. Makes more sense for it to be you, I’m the better cook.” He finished up the last of his dumplings, and put the bowl in the sink. “Although I suppose that puts a wrinkle in that thing we were talking about a minute ago.”

Rukia sniffed. “I don’t see why. We’ll make one right away, I’ll tell the Head Captain I need a year, and then I’ll get down to business after that. You can use the baby as an excuse to stave off any further attempts at promotion. And if Brother keeps trying to overdo it, we can plunk the baby in his lap.”

“Brilliant plan,” Renji assessed. “Zero foreseeable flaws. How many of these you think you can eat with dinner? I’m gonna freeze the rest.”

“One thousand,” Rukia proclaimed.

Renji rolled his eyes as he slid a tray into the freezer. “I have no idea how I am going to keep you fed, assuming I actually manage to knock you up.”

“I believe in you,” Rukia assured him. “On both counts.” She watched him as he continued to clean up. “You’re really on board with all this? You were probably looking forward to a few years of me bending you over the kitchen table as soon as we got home, not late night feedings and dirty diapers, huh?”

Renji finished drying his hands, and he reached over the counter to tip Rukia’s chin up with one finger. “Rukia. As much as I love having rauchy sex in inappropriate places with you– and you know that I do– the thing I’ve been waiting forty-six years for is to be a family, whether that means just the two of us, or us plus however many babies you demand I put in you. I’ve had enough waiting for one afterlife, to be honest.”

“How did you come up with 46?” Rukia frowned. “Forty-six years ago, we were still back in–”

“Don’t do the math,” he implored.

“Okay,” she agreed, smiling at him.

“We’re not gonna start trying before the wedding, though, right?” Renji asked, pulling off his apron. “I’m pretty bad at math, but your brother’s not.”

“I suppose not,” Rukia agreed.

“Then we should squeeze in as much lazy daytime sex as possible while we still can!”

Rukia shrieked gleefully as he ducked around the kitchen island and pulled her off her barstool. 

This was going to work out just fine.

[fatestemptress]

Overwhelming Alternatives - Part 1 of 3

Summary: Jensen Ackles loves women.  The way they smell.  The way they taste.  The way their hips sway when they walk away from him, looking back with that knowing look in their eyes.  Hell, he can’t even look at one of his best friends, Y/N, without picturing her naked.

So can someone please explain to him why he’s fantasizing about his co-worker Jared Padalecki?

Created for @spnkinkbingo

Square Filled: Sexuality Crisis

Warnings: Smut. Lots and lots of smut.  Masturbation. Porn watching. MMF. 18+ only!

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Jared Padalecki; Eventually Jensen x Y/N X Jared

Word Count On this Chapter: 5,300 or so

A/N: Hiiiiii!  Its been sooo long and I have missed so many wonderful fics out there.  I am dying to catch up!  I’ve had this fic sitting in my drafts and it’s finally ready to post.  This will eventually be a threesome, so if that’s not your thing please be forewarned. The other two chapters of this will fill some of my other kink bingo squares.

Please note, this is unbeta’d.  Any and all grammatical errors are mine.  (And I’m sure there are PLENTY. :))

"Fuck Jen!  Hold still would ya'?!"

"I'm trying but your big sausage fingers keep pinching me!"

Jensen Ackles could practically hear the smirk coming from behind him as his co-star and best friend Jared Padalecki rubbed at the fake blood caught under the collar of his shirt behind his neck.  

And he desperately hoped one of his favorite people in the world couldn't feel the shudder of his body as his fingers dipped into the sensitive top part of his spine. The tingles quickly spread out into the wide set of his shoulders and down into his fingertips making them itch with the need to reach behind him and grab Jared by the hip and bring his full body against his back.

FUCK.

He needed to stop this nonsense.  He wasn't gay.  He didn't like guys.  In fact, he LOVED women.  The way they smelled.  They way they tasted.  They way they whined into his ear when he was balls deep with their ankles around his neck.

Annnnnnnd he needed to stop that freight train of thought as his already half hard dick started filling out into a full blown, humiliating, hard on, in front of the remaining crew on set.

"Allright, allright Jay.  The rest'll come out when I get in the shower back in my trailer.  I just didn't want it dripping down my back."

And damned if that didn't just bring unwanted (cause they were UNWANTED...right?) images of something alot more pleasant and alot more white dripping down his back........

Jared let out a high pitched laugh as he playfully massaged his fingers into Jensen's neck, "Wasn't it nice and warm though, Jen?"

With a deep clearing of his throat, side eye and a conspicuous adjustment of his jeans, Jensen reached for his jacket and slung it on, "I won't even dignify that with an answer.  So uh, I'll see you in a little while?  We still on for Madden?"

Jared flipped his hair out of his eyes as he also reached for his coat, seemingly oblivious to his friends discomfort,"Yeah, sure thing.  Gotta shower and then I'll meet you at your trailer in about an hour."

With a quick fist pound and a wave to the few people on set, Jensen and Jared parted ways as they made their way to their respective trailers.  It had been a long day with an early 4:00 AM call but production issues had them calling it quits at 5:00 PM.  

But despite the hectic schedule, two and a half seasons into the show "Supernatural", Jensen was still pumped to come to work everyday.  It definitely helped that everyone on set truly did get along and it was a blessing that he and his co-star had gotten so close, so fast.

What didn't help was the increasing drive to see Jared's cock that had somehow, someway meandered into his every waking moment.  A drive that he had never, not once, had from another man.  And he had been hit on pretty frequently over his career being an actor and having, what he'd been told, were the sweetest dick-sucking lips some of them had ever seen.

But regardless of all that, the only thing he had wanted to eat was a nice, wet pussy.  He loved that shit.  Savored it.  And never, not once, had he ever tried to replace it with a dick.

Until Jared.

Jensen sighed in frustration as he dressed in a pair of black sweats, sans underwear, and a white t-shirt, after his long, hot shower, where he had deliberately denied himself even a quick, rub and tug.

He wasn't gay dammit.  And he wasn't going to start giving into these dark emotions that had been slowly increasing over the past two and half years.  

Fucking Jared.

And his big shoulders.

And solid abs.

And his goofy hair.

And his fucking dimples.

And those ridiculous yellow-green eyes.....

.....that practically sparkled at him whenever he laughed at some sarcastic comment Jensen threw his way.

Fuck but he needed to get laid.  

And fast.  

It had been three long months since he last sunk his dick into a warm willing body and that had been from a one night stand at a random bar in Downtown Vancouver.  Despite the success of the show, they were still relatively unknown enough that it was easy to go out without getting bombarded by fans.  But both of them were still careful with who they took home.  

Crazy sometimes wore a pretty face and a hot body.

Just as Jensen had settled into his deep, fluffy couch with the remote in his hand, his phone rang and a sweet smile and sexy eyes looked up at him from the picture on his cell.  

With a smile of his own, Jensen picked up the phone, "Hey Gorgeous.  Whats doin'?"

"Hey, Ackles," Y/N chirped into his ear,  "What's cookin'?"

Y/N Y/L/N was the Production Coordinator on the show and sometimes Jensen thought her job was the hardest of them all, practically running the ship behind the scenes, managing all the Production Assistants and dealing with all the whining that comes with it.  Even though they had a good crew, people were still human and lord knows they needed someone to bitch to when they felt they weren't being appreciated.  But Y/N handled it all with grace and a firm hand.  She was respected by everyone on set and, if Jensen was being honest with himself, everyone, male and females included, were already half in love with her.  

Jensen was lucky to call her one of his closest friends......and if he sometimes pictured her naked, well, it was only natural.  She was beautiful, intelligent and sarcastic as hell and he was by no means a saint.

"Waitin' on Jared to finish conditioning his hair.  He's gonna come over and get his ass kicked in Madden."

Y/N let out a husky laugh in his ear and Jensen shifted as his dick twitched at the sexy sound.  Maybe he should have considered underwear.

"So another two hours then?"  She deadpanned.

"Nah.  I think deep conditioning was yesterday.  He should be here soon."

"Ha!  Okay,"  Y/N let out a slight sigh in his ear and it sounded almost melancholy.

"Hey, whats wrong?  You okay?"

"Yeah....I mean....yeah I'm fine.  It's just....I broke up with Chad."

Jensen's ears perked up at the name of Y/N's, now, ex-boyfriend, "Wow, I'm, uh, really sorry to hear that, Honey."

Y/N let out a snort, "No, you're fucking not.  I know you hated him.  You made it pretty clear every time you saw him."

With a chuckle, Jensen shrugged, "You're right.  I did fucking hate him.  He didn't deserve you. He was a jerk who was starting to become a possessive asshole.  And his name was Chad.  It's almost a pre-requisite that douche bags are named Chad.  But, uh, why did you finally see the light?"

There was silence on the other end for a a bit before she answered, "He, um, tried to tell me that I was getting too close to you and Jared and that I needed to stop being friends with you outside of work.  So I told him to fuck off and take a hike."

Jensen let out a snort of his own, "That's my girl,"  At the continued silence, he cleared his throat slightly,  "Are you okay?  I mean, listen, even though I hated the guy, I'm not the one who's gotta be with him.  You know I'll support you no matter what and I don't want to be the reason you're not with someone that you maybe....love-"

"Yeah, no.  There wasn't any love there,"  She quickly interrupted before heaving another sigh, "I was just....I dunno...lonely I guess?  The hours we work are brutal and he was,  you know, around.  Whatever, what's done is done and honestly no ones gonna tell me I cant hang with my two favorite pain in the asses."

Jensen didn't acknowledge the thrill that ran through him at her words.  He was just gonna ignore the hum of content that made him smile.  She was his friend, (hot, sexy, beautiful friend), "Do you wanna come over and hang with us?  Take your mind off of things?"

"Thanks.  I may take you up on that later on tonight.  I'll text you."

"I still got a bottle of Stoli Razz here from last time if you're interested in getting obliterated."  

"Ahhh, Ackles.  You always know just what I need.  Talk soon."

With a smile and a goodbye, Jensen ended the call.  Since he'd started talking to Y/N on a more personal level about a year ago, she had been with Jerk-off-Chad.  And despite his sexual attraction to her, he'd always kept her in his off limits category.  Even without her having a boyfriend, he didn't want to jeopardize what they had.  He respected her way too much for that.

So then why did he have a sudden vision of her on her back while he licked between her legs?

Fuuuuck he realllly needed to get laid.

First Jared and now Y/N.

Both people he loved and cared for deeply as friends.  And his perverted mind was making them into sexual conquests.

Maybe a quick rub and tug was just what the doctor ordered.

With a quick glance at the time, Jensen realized he still had a good twenty minutes before he could expect Jared to knock on his trailer door.  Plenty of time to relieve some of the ache his too full balls were giving him.

He quickly pulled his lap top over from its resting place on the side table next to his couch and brought up one of his favorite porn sites.  (Yes, he had favorites and if you asked him he'd tell you he had his go-to videos categorized and in corresponding folders.  Fuck anyone's opinion.  He was twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine with no steady girlfriend.  His hand rarely left his dick when he was alone.)  

In a rush, he picked a random video that looked good and pressed play before placing it back on the side table with the screen facing him.  A deep moan drifted from the speakers as he saw a girl kneeling in front of a huge dick before she swallowed it down in one gulp, lovingly rubbing the balls underneath.  Another loud moan drifted from the speakers.

Shit.  Way too loud.  No need to have one of the crew walk by his trailer and have a story to tell the others tomorrow morning.  

Quickly, Jensen reached over for his ear buds and plugged them in before setting his phone to vibrate and placing it next to him so he could feel it.  Jared would text before he came over.  He always did.

Reaching down, Jensen wrapped a hand over the slowly rising bulge in his sweatpants and bit his lip.  He caressed the head through his pants and was glad the pants were black.  Wet spots on the crotch of grey pants were never a good look.  

And the close ups of the chick's wet pussy and spit slicked swollen mouth were making his cock start doing a steady drip-drip.

He pulled his shirt up over the flat panes of his stomach before squeezing his cock and adjusting it so it lay underneath the band of his pants, the swollen head peaking out of the top as he brought his thumb around the wetness, coating it before letting out a moan of his own.  He liked to tease himself.  Draw it out a little bit before the end result.

"Fuck baby," Big-dick guy said on a gasp from his place on a brown couch, "Suck it.  Yeah...just like that."

The blue eyed blond on her knees let out a whine before releasing the cock with a pop, "So big," She said as she rapidly stroked him from root to tip, "I don't think I can suck this all by myself."  

"Mmmm,"  Big-dick hummed with a dirty grin, "Lucky for us we got some help."

Well,shit.  He had picked a threesome video without even knowing it.  Two chicks sucking on one dick?  Every. Guys. Fantasy.  Bring it on.

The camera panned back into the guys lap as the blonde licked up the side of his cock and a shaggy dark haired head bent down and took the guys balls into his mouth.

Well that was a shorter hair-cut than he was expecting on a chick....

The blonde reached down and grabbed the head of hair and brought the lips of the other person to hers, tongues dangling in the air, "Hey baby..." She said on a breath, before bringing the tip of the big dick to her partners mouth and tapping it against the pursed lips surrounded by a five o'clock shadow-

Wait.

What?

Five O'clock shadow?

And to his surprise and wide eyed gaze, he watched as the dude on screen sucked down the cock in front of him with a deep growl, his shaggy hair being moved out of the way by the blonde as she waited her turn.

And instead of his dick deflating into nothing, he let out a noise he would later deny to himself as he ripped his cock out of his sweats and started rapidly stroking his dick as the guy on screen let out slutty noises and tongued down the other dudes dick before sloppily kissing the blonde with the cock in between their lips.

"Fuck, I love this dick," The guy gasped, "Want it all the time."

The blonde giggled and the camera panned to where she was running her finger around his puckered hole, "You want it here baby?"

And as the guy on his knees let out a groan, threw his head back and made his dark hair flutter around his face, Jensen let out the slightest of squeaks as he pulled roughly on his rock hard cock and he felt the pull in his balls become an onslaught of come,"Fuuuuuuuck!"

Sticky white liquid shot out of his cock and onto his stomach as he quickly realized that the reason he came so hard and so long was cause the guy on the screen was a look alike of the guy currently standing with his mouth open at his doorway.

"Jared!"

Shit.

With another squeak, Jensen slammed the laptop shut, ripped his ear buds out and quickly stuffed himself back into his sweatpants before standing up on shaky legs.

Jared blinked at him wide eyed and pink cheeked as he closed his mouth and swallowed hard, closing the trailer door softly behind him, "Uhhhh, Dude, you ever, uh, consider locking your door, if you're gonna jerk the chicken?"

"Dude, you ever consider fucking calling first before you just come over?  Or maybe knocking on the fucking door?"

"I DID knock on the fucking door but you obviously had your dirty movie on too loud.  AND I TEXTED before I came, like I always do!"

Jensen gave him an incredulous look, "No. You didn't," He shot out as he grabbed up his phone from the couch, "I would have felt the.....oh,"  Jensen gave him a sheepish glance, "Looks like I put it on silent not vibrate."

Jared's lips twitched into what could have been a smile, "Uh huh,"  Jared casually pushed passed Jensen's stiff form and plopped himself on the abandoned couch.  He spread his arms across the back of it as he glanced up at Jensen through his lashes,  "Sooooo, if I hadn't gotten here when I did, would that have been the, uh, next thing you would have pulled out?"

Jensen's eyebrows drew together in confusion, as his humiliation continued to burn through him, "Pulled what out?"

Jared bit his bottom lip, obviously trying not to laugh out loud, "Never mind.  Man, its fine.  Stop looking at me like you wanna crawl into a hole.  We ALL fucking do it.  Hell, I jerked off twice in the shower before coming here."

Ignoring the pull of desire in his belly at Jared's words, Jensen groaned out loud and threw himself down onto the other end of the couch and rubbed his hands over his face, "So fucking embarrassing," He muttered into his fingers, refusing to look over at Jared.

A small squeaking sound, slid through the air and sounds of heavy breathing filled the awkward space.

"Yeah baby, just like that.  Fuck me with your fingers."

Jensen's head shot up as Jared let out a deep belly laugh and stared at Jensen's re-opened laptop at the kneeling guy on the screen getting his pink hole finger fucked by the blonde chick next to him as he sucked and licked the cock in front of him.

"DUUUUUDE, this is some kinky shit."

"What the fu-? Jay!  Why would you turn that back on?!"  Jensen threw himself over Jared's lap, ignoring the loud laughter falling out Jared's mouth and frantically pressed buttons until it stopped playing and slammed the laptop shut once again.  He whipped his head to the side and glared at the wide grin inches from his face, "You're an asshole, you know that?"

Jared winked at Jensen as he shifted his hips underneath him, poking Jensen in the stomach with something, "You're taking this way too seriously, Man."

Jensen looked down into the small space between him and Jay before slowly leaning back into his own spot on the couch.  He couldn't have felt what he thought he did....did he?

With a clearing of his throat, he swallowed and sat back as he ran his hands through his hair, "This is fucking embarrassing!"  He repeated.

Shrugging, Jared leaned his head into the back of the couch and rolled his head so it was next to Jensen's, "Soooooo, does this mean....I mean...are you...gay?"

Jensen's eyes widened in alarm as his heart started pounding frantically, "NO!  I'm not fucking gay, Jay!  Did you not see the chick in the movie?  I didn't realize until it was too late that the guy was going to be...involved like that."

Jared sent a sympathetic look at Jensen's panicked gaze, "You know Jen, it's okay if you are.  I'm not judging.  Like, at all-"

"Jesus, Jared!  I'm telling you I'm not-"

"-cause I've swung both ways before soooo.."

"-gay.....what?"

Jensen blinked stupidly at Jared's soft smile and felt like he might pass out from sheer terror mixed with immediate curiosity.

Jared sat up and placed his elbows on his knees before lacing his fingers together, "I'm...I mean I guess...you could call me...bisexual,"  He shrugged before running his fingers through his hair and Jensen could see a slight tremble despite Jared's calm tone.

"Have you...um...had...you know.."

Another dazzling smile was sent Jensen's way, "Have I ever fucked a guy before?"  At Jensen's nod, Jared shrugged, "Yep.  Both catcher and pitcher."

"Jesus."

"What?  You know if you cant talk about gay sex, you shouldn't be doing gay sex."  He said with a mock serious look.

"Yeah, yeah.  Well, I'm not.  Doing it.  I mean.  With guys.  And lately, not with girls either,"  Jensen ran a hand against the back of his neck, "Maybe that's the problem.  I'm backed up to the point where my brain is floating in sperm and stupidity."

Jared laughed again before placing a hand against the back of Jensen's neck and squeezing it, "Jen, again, not judging.  But, uh, coming that hard?  Usually signifies that shit is turning you on.  And then some."

Jensen gaped at Jared, "How fucking long were you standing there?"

"Long enough to wonder if you were gonna provide a cigarette after the show."

"Dude."

With another squeeze to his neck, Jared smirked, "What can I say, it was seriously hot."

Jensen's poor heart started pounding at an even faster clip, "You...you thought that was hot?"

Jared's smirk dropped and a look that Jensen had never seen before took it's place, "Come on, Man.  Have you seen yourself in the mirror?  Can you really blame me for thinking that way about you?"

Jensen swallowed.  Hard. "What....what way?"

Jared licked his bottom lip and bit it, "How curious are you about this?  I don't want to go down a road with you and you wake up the next morning and decide you cant work with me or you don't want to be friends.  I value our friendship, Man.  Truly.  It would kill me not to-."

"Yeah," Jensen interrupted with a soft smile, "It would kill me too."

With a smile of his own, Jared let go of Jensen's neck and sat back, "Sooo, you wanna finish watching the movie?"

Was it possible for stomachs to dip right outta your body?  Cause that's what was happening to Jensen's.

"I-uh, I mean, if you, uh, wanna, I mean..."

Taking pity on Jensen's stuttering, Jared reached under the side table and pulled out the bottle of Glenfiddich whiskey he knew was stored there, "Drink first?"

"Fuck yeah."

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~~:~:~

The first two shots burned on the way down.  By the time they were both nursing the third drink, Jensen was feeling the edges of his anxiety start to float away and Jared was sitting closer to him on the couch.

They talked a little more about Jared and his previous male conquests.  ("They were pretty.  And hot.  I have a hard time saying no to pretty and hot.")

And they spoke of how he may not advertise his sexuality but he wasn't ashamed of it either. ("Pussy and dick both make me come.  Soooo, why not?")

By the time they reached the point where Jensen felt brave enough to let Jay turn on the laptop, he was sporting some chub thinking of his best friend in these compromising positions.  

And if Jay's gaze was any indication, it was very noticeable.  

Fucking sweatpants.  

Clearing his throat, Jared pressed play and placed it on the couch in between them.

"Suck that cock.  Fuck yeah.  So fucking hot."  The blonde said as she continued to finger fuck the dark haired guys ass before quickly adding a second finger.  The blonde slapped one of the guys ass cheeks with her free hand before using the same hand to separate them, "Look how pretty.  Can't wait for you to take that monster up in here.  Gonna make you eat my pussy while you take it."

Jensen's head was swimming as a deep pulse of lust shot into his stomach and straight to his dick.  His mind was quickly replacing the images on screen with him being the one sitting on the couch, running his hand through Jared's hair as he sucked his cock with major enthusiasm.

Fuck, could he really be this hard, this fast?

Sending a surreptitious glance toward Jared, Jensen took another sip of his drink and adjusted himself on the couch, trying to sit in such a way that his wood wasn't so obvious.

He was terribly unsuccessful.

Especially considering he had looked into Jared's lap and saw a massive boner laying against the side of his leg, plainly visible in the track pants he was wearing.

This time, Jensen had to bite his lip to keep in the moan that threatened to fly out of his throat.  

"You, uh,  you okay?"

Jensen's head shot up at Jared's deep baritone and he swallowed at the look of lust making Jared's eyes darken, "I, uh, maybe this wasn't such a good idea..."  He said as he placed his drink on the table next to him.

Jared looked down at the tent in Jensen's sweats, before raising an eyebrow, "You sure about that, Jen?"

At that moment, the dark haired guy on screen let out a loud moan and both of their heads swiveled back to the screen just in time to see him take Big-Dicks cock in his ass.  He swiveled his hip and pushed against Big-Dick before licking up the blondes thigh in front of him, plunging his tongue in her pussy.

"Fuck...." Jared let out before he reached down and squeezed his dick through his pants, "That's fucking hot."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Watching Jared touch himself through his pants was gonna make Jensen blow his wad straight across the room.  The throbbing in his sweats was becoming unbearable and mixed with the whiskey in his system, he was ready to say fuck it and whip his dick out.

"Deeper.."  The guy on screen begged in between long licks to the blondes pussy, "Deeper, Man.  Yeah, just like that."

Big-Dick obliged and he adjusted himself to give the guy long, hard, deep strokes as his partner let out a groan and lay his head on the blondes thigh; his hard cock swinging between his legs with the pounding he was happily taking.

"You like that baby?" The blonde cooed as she ran her fingers through his hair, "Feels good right?"

"Oh my God," Jensen couldn't help but let out softly as he felt his dick dribble out pre-cum into his pants.

Jared looked up into Jensen's face and shuddered out a breath, "Dude, I'm so fucking horny right now that if I don't take out my dick, its gonna explode in my pants."

Jensen shut his eyes at the shot of want that streaked down his spine, "Shit, Jay.  You're gonna kill me."

"Is that a yes?"

What to do?  Lord knew he was so far gone the room was spinning.  Though the whiskey could've had a hand in that as well.

Instead of answering, Jensen reached into his pants and pulled out his throbbing cock and immediately started stroking it from root to tip.  He was so worked up, his hips involuntarily canted into his grip and he let out a groan and dropped his head onto the back of the sofa letting it loll to the side, facing Jared.

Jensen watched as Jared's eyes widened at the sight in front of him and he started letting out gasping breaths before reaching into his underwear, pulling out his cock (Big-fucking-cock.  Want-it-in-his-mouth-cock) as he pulled down his pants with the other hand.  Jay's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he leaned back against the sofa, inches away from Jensen's gasping mouth.  

"Fuck..."  Jensen whispered as he felt Jared's rapid breaths against his lips.  Immediately, he licked his lower lip trying in vain to catch the taste of his best friend and swallow it down.  He opened his eyes into slits and peered right into yellow-green orbs as he let out a low moan when his cock jerked in his hand.

He was so fucking close....

Jared let out a deep groan in tandem with Jensen, his mouth hanging slightly open as his hand reached down and played with his sack, "Jen....God...the things I wanna do to you..."

Those thick lips were so close to his own, he could practically feel them opening up and taking everything he had to give.  He licked his lips, hoping his tongue would graze against Jared's but instead he felt an answering lick against the tip of his tongue as Jared tentatively rubbed it against his.

"Again...." Jensen groaned, "Please....again."

A sound of complete surrender left Jared's throat as he closed the small distance between their mouths and immediately wrapped his tongue around Jensen's before sucking Jensen's bottom lip into his mouth.  

A bomb went through Jensen's torso and immediately erupted out of his dick as he came so hard his eyes crossed and he moaned long and loud into Jared's mouth causing the other man to moan in return. Come arched through the air and landed right on his t-shirt as he closed his mouth over Jared's and kissed him with deep strokes of his tongue.

"Oh God, oh FUCK!"

The loud scream from the laptop caused both men to separate and look down in time to see the dark haired guy on screen on his back getting plowed by Big-Dick as the blonde sucked down his cock.

"I'm gonna come!" He yelled into the air, "I'm gonna come."

As the blonde lifted her face out of the way, he shot up and onto his chest with loud grunts as the guy who had been fucking him pulled out and helped the blonde lap up the come on his chest.  

A low groan came from Jared, "Ugggghhh, Jen.  Shiiiiit."

Jensen looked to the side just in time to see Jared rip up his T-shirt  just as his red tipped dick erupted onto his now exposed stomach.

It was by far one of the hottest fucking things he had ever seen in his life.

As both men leaned back letting out low gasps, Jensen waited for the awkwardness to settle in.  But nothing happened.   He blinked up at the ceiling of the trailer and tried to trudge up something of the fear that he felt earlier but instead he  just felt....content.

"You okay, Jen?"  

Jensen turned his head to meet Jared's slightly panicked eyes.

Jared gulped as Jensen didn't immediately answer,  "I mean...are we okay?"

Taking in that strong jawline and those beautiful eyes, Jensen smiled, "Yeah.  Yeah, Jay.  We're good."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Jared closed the laptop between them and placed it on the table before closing the small distance between their bodies.  As Jensen felt the heat radiating off of Jared's body bleed into own, he let his eyes slide down to the curve of Jared's lips and couldn't help but bring his mouth to his and press a soft kiss against them.  He felt Jared smile before the taller man deepened the kiss and slid one of those massive hands of his across Jensen's t-shirt covered stomach.  With a groan into Jensen's mouth. he squeezed at the side of Jensen's waist before meandering his fingers up his chest towards his neck before suddenly stopping and looking down at his hand.

"What's wrong?"  Jensen on a breath.

Biting his lip, Jared brought up his shiny fingers, "Dude, you either have a talent for shooting long distance or you really were backed up,"

Jensen's eyes widened, "Is that my-"

"Come?  Yep," Jared opened his mouth and inserted his fingers before sucking them deep and releasing them with a pop and a smirk, "Still warm too."

Another dip in his belly as Jensen tried to decide how he felt about watching his best friend lick his come off his fingers.  When said friend, winked at him and bit his bottom lip, Jensen decided he was abso-fucking-lutley okay with it, "Fuck.  You're gonna kill me."

Jared hummed deep in his throat and leaned his head in to kiss Jensen again when a loud knock sounded at the door.

"Yo!  Open up the door!  You two fools better not have drank all the alcohol."

Shit!  Y/N!

With panicky eyes and fumbling hands righting clothes, Jensen cleared his throat and quickly made it to the door after looking back to make sure Jared was decent.

"Hey!"  Y/N said with a bright smile when the door opened, "Sorry I took so long.  Crisis with Christy happened.  Again!"  Y/N said referring to one of the PA's on staff as she made her way around Jensen and to his small kitchenette, "But I brought pizza!"  She lifted the box in her hands before placing it on the table, "Hope you guys are hungry."

Jared and Jensen shared a heavy look before Jared answered, "Yeah, I'd say we worked up a pretty decent appetite today."

Y/N looked around the trailer and took a deep breath, swinging around making the short skirt she had on flounce in the air, "It smells like bad decisions in here, Ackles.  You really need to clean up after you bang random chick number sixty-nine."

Jared let out a high pitched laugh as Jensen pursed his lips at his friend, "I did not bang any..chick in here. Thank you very much."

Y/N shrugged off her jacket and placed it on the back of a chair before plopping down next to Jared on the couch, "Then you need to figure out which sock is lying around and still hiding the evidence of your last....activities."

"Y/N!"

"Just sayin'."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~**~

Tagging some peeps that may be interested.  Let me know if its not your thing and you’d rather not be tagged.

@thoughtslikeaminefield  @maddiepants @coffee-obsessed-writer @pisces-cutie @idreamofplaid @tumbler-tidbits @glassjacket @boondoctorwho @spnkinkbingo

[tarithenurse]

Agent of Hope - 20

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Bureaucracy and bending thereof, dealing with trauma, feels, balancing trust, loads more. A/N: Thanks to all of you who like and especially reblog <3 The house-situation is taking a looooot of energy, especially when combined with my tendency to overthink the wrong things, but hey: Ontkruid vergaat niet. THE GIF IS TOTALLY UNRELATED BUT I LOVE IT!

20 - Not so Black ‘n White

The inlaid granite had felt hard under against the soles of your shoes, cold and grey and absolutely not helping with your nerves. When the stone had given way for carpet, that too had been dark in contrast to the naked walls coloured with some indeterminable off-white shade…at least there was a single palm tree in a much too small pot in the room you’d been led to, otherwise Natasha’s hair would have been the only bright colour in the room.

Your throat is dry, but you’re determined not to stop – if you do then you’ll never be able to start again. “It felt like-like an eternity even b’fore the threats and b-beatings and-d-and I messed up.” Tasha’s hand twitches. Want to hold my hand or kill Brock? “I tried to win time…peace…anything, by making up a story ‘cept i- he…” Your hand shakes so hard you spill some of the water from the crickly plastic cup which is empty before the dry knot in your throat has been washed away. “The point is…I can ermm identify and y’know…tes-…-tify…?”

The eyes boring into you are impossible to categorize in terms of colour, but you recognize the glimmer of pity before you have to look away. There’s been no show of emotions while you told of the life you and Brock had shared before things were brought out in the open, barely any frown as you explained how Hydra came and took you, but now…just a broken sentence hinting at your living nightmare.

I don’t want the pity. Everyone at the Compound walk as on eggshells around you, avoiding certain subjects as the let you decide the pace but there’s no pity just room to heal and grow stronger…what agent Ross radiates make you feel ruined all over again. No, worse than that. Guilt surges in the pit of your belly, pushing the shoulders up to your ears as if that could shield you from anything, when in reality nothing of what happened is your fault but the choice of a deranged man working on behalf of a genocidal organisation. Both of whom knows how to get where they want.

“Can I trust you, agent Ross?”

The simple question startles both him and Natasha, the latter sending you a warning look.

“I like to think that you can, yeah.” There’s a simple sort of honesty in his voice, matching the down-to-earth vibe you’ve been getting from him and which you know is one of the reasons your hero has agreed to co-operate to begin with. “We can do this off the books if you want?”

At least Tasha relaxes a little bit when you nod.

…

Whether or not she’s being protective or supportive, Natasha has moved closer to you. It doesn’t prevent Ross from leaning as far across the table as he can without getting his ass out the chair, and you’re secretly thankful for his short stature.

“That’s…either insane or improbable,” he breathes, fingers carting through the now messy hair, “but with all the shit happening the last years…oh fuck me!”

The exclamation isn’t a request or order but still makes you cringe inwardly. It’s Nat’s hands being squeezed so hard the blood flow is hampered and you’re grateful she’s here even if the assassin side of her is plotting ways to teach Ross to back down.

“Let me make this very, very clear,” she states subtly, “if any of this leaves the room without [Y/N]’s consent…”

A smirk dances at the corner of her lips only for you to see when the poor man blanches, his head probably full of all sorts of horrible options for his untimely demise.

“Understood!” A finger slips inside the tie in a futile attempt at loosening it slightly. “Hrm…perhaps we should continue this at another time?”

…   Romanoff   …

Not many people manage to surprise the former spy/assassin the way [Y/N] has today and she almost feels prouder than worried even now as she guides the car through the traffic. Next to her, the astounding woman is sitting with a foot on the seat, an elbow resting on the knee to further support her head. By now there must be dents under the chin from the knuckles because [Y/N] hasn’t moved since they got off the highway but merely been staring out the side window. Squinting at the faint reflection, Natasha can’t see the frown usually visible in times of serious pondering. What’s going on, babe? Talk to me. She’s about to ask for just that when [Y/N] breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry I told him what I can do anyways…” A few dust motes hover in the temporary silence. “Thing is that…that he does the same as you and the others? Which means that he doesn’t…he doesn’t…ask…” Breathing shakily, the girl looks back out the window. “None of you have been forcing me to tell anything. Not about what happened. Not about what I…see.”

Oh. “Ross didn’t either.”

“Nuh-uh.” There’s a small smile obscured by the shaking head. “Bro-Rumlow and…those…they kept pushing, forcing me to tell and it was never enough!”

Natasha knows the reason behind it. Hydra doesn’t have room for values such as personal freedom, individualism, moral, anything else but furthering their cause.

With someone that could potentially tell the future in their hands, they’d been sitting on a golden mine and of course they’d had to dig quick and deep to get as much of the valuables as possible before the treasure trove was whisked away. It didn’t matter to them that said treasure was a person and the mine was her mind.

Сукин сын! Through the sleepless nights and the countless days spent comforting the survivor, even nursing her back to a semblance of thriving, most of the horrors have been revealed although never in too great detail. What has never been said, Natasha has been able to fill in the blanks from simply because she’s seen that kind of world and she knows the messed up rules Hydra plays by. The only comfort in this mess is that Rumlow had never shared the spoils with anyone.

“Sweetheart, it’s your life and I don’t have the right to make the decisions for you,” Nat explains softly, “I promised I’d be by your side and that stands whether or not you want to share your intel with me…us…or not.”

A warm hand slips over on the Avenger’s thigh to give a little squeeze. “I know.” There’s that smile again. “And I appreciate all the room and trust you and the others show me…I really do.” The hands stays, thumb tracing light circles on the denim. “Besides…you’ll come to respect agent Ross in Berlin.”

Huh? No explanation follows, though, and Natasha decides to let the spy in her go unsatisfied and instead hope that [Y/N] will tell more in due time.

The rest of the way to the Tower, where Happy, Stark, and Pepper are waiting, the women chat about the hunt on the remaining Hydra cells.

…   Reader   …

Ever since getting to the safety of Stark and the Avengers the very first time, you’ve been keeping notes about the vision. At first it was short key words on your phone, but the last week it’s been full on recounts in a notebook covered with flappable sequins (navy blue one way and a sparkly rainbow-coloured mix the other), most of the contents naturally being older visions that you try to recall.

Rubbing your left temple in small circles the fingers on the other hand mindlessly trace patterns to break the monochrome surface. Nothing makes sense. You almost whish you were back to the old days where the pain-inducing dreams seemed like nothing more than just freak coincidences and a lively imagination…but then you’d still be with Brock and that’s one nightmare you’d give anything to be without. I thought I loved him…a sour taste echoes in the back of your mouth, the barely visible scars itch. He thinks he still does.

The disconcerting thoughts are broken by the sound of approaching footsteps which can only belong to Happy. He rarely makes it up to the domestic floors of the Tower so when he does, he makes sure to pop by wherever you’re hanging out, brightening your day with one of his full-face smiles.

“Heya!” He allows a box to drop onto the couch so he can stretch a bit. “How’s it going, tiger?”

Meh. “Okay…trying to make sense of my life and shit, y’know?” It’s nice not to have to explain for Happy to get it. The man is empathy incarnate and the nod encompasses that. “Watcha got there?”

As if partially surprised at the box still resting  on the soft seat and somewhat chuffed that he knows something you don’t, Happy pats the cardboard lovingly. “Oh…just a little somethin’ somethin’ mister Stark has asked me t’get him…” Shifty eyes, then he leans closer to whisper: “You’ll see eventually.”

“So secretive, my dear sir!”

“Ay, never betray the trust o’ som’one ye care ‘bout, little girl,” he hums in a horrible pirate voice, “’specially not if they’re a super’ero or assassin or whatnot, if ye get mah drift.”

A slight cough behind Happy makes the poor man blanche. “Wise words coming from a man who’s decided not to go straight to their boss who just happens to be such a hero.”

Even with a sickly green smoothie in hand and an old band t-shirt, Tony Stark’s presence takes over the room. Not in an uncomfortable way, there’s just no denying the imposing alpha-male-thing he’s got going. It makes your toes curl and thighs itch with the need to get away and find Natasha.