#like… what? tell me I’m saying nonsensical shit at least

[wonkyjaw]

The other day I joked to Em about needing to get a tattoo of two cakes on my wrist or something (because every time I remember that post it buoys me and I feel allowed to be creative again) and then yesterday I was telling her about the book I’m reading and that it’s the same plot and characters this author always does but I’m eating it up anyway and said “whatever, two cakes.” She stared at me so blank I asked if she knew what I was referencing and she said “nope!”

When I asked why she didn’t ask for clarification she said, “you say nonsensical shit all the time, I figured it made sense to you at least.”

Now I find myself in need of a list of the shit I say that she just fully doesn’t understand nor question. And also an explanation for why she feels no need to actually understand what I’m saying to her.

[mokulule]

Meet Cult

Dead on MAYn - Day 2

Prompt: Jason and Danny abducted by the same cult. No warnings apply.

This was a bad day, was Jason’s first thought as he became aware.

“Oh you’re awake, how are you feeling? That’s a nasty gash on your head,” a voice told him worried.

Jason slowly blinked his eyes into focus. He had the worst headache and when he grimaced he felt something stiff and crusty pull at his skin - dried blood. His arms were tied to a metal pole of sorts behind him which is what had kept him in a kneeling position while unconscious.

A young man slowly came into focus in the dim light. He had dark hair and light eyes, but actual color wasn’t possible to really tell. He was wearing just a simple light t-shirt and shorts, sitting similarly tied to Jason. If he’d been there for any length of time he had to be chilled from the concrete. Jason at least wore sturdy pants which added a bit of insulation.

What had happened?

Jason had been… shopping? Yeah that sounded about right. And then- nothing.

“Hey, please tell me they didn’t knock you entirely senseless?”

Jason focused back on the other… hostage? “What do you know?”

There was a flash of white as he grinned. “I know they came back with you sporting bloodied noses and mr stick up his ass probably have a broken wrist.”

“Who are they?” Jason spoke lowly, looking around, but the room they were in was a basement room only way in was a heavy metal door. Only the barest of light shone through the cracks of an otherwise barred window. There was no one but the two of them.

“Some weirdo cultists.”

Jason must have shown his surprise on his face, because he continued.

“Didn’t expect that, huh?”

“I thought it was just a normal kidnapping.”

“You get kidnapped enough for there to be normal kidnappings?” The man asked eyebrows raising up past his messy bangs.

“Not as such, but my adoptive father is something of a big deal in Gotham so there’s a risk.”

The other thought that over for a moment with a worried frown, before speaking, “I’m sorry you got caught up in this weirdness.”

“And what about you?” Jason asked.

“Me?” He tilted his head.

“You seem remarkably calm about this?”

That earned Jason a chuckle.

“Yeah well you could say it’s not my first rodeo either. I get involved in a shocking amount of weirdness for someone who’s just trying to get a degree.”

He had the sort of smile that invited Jason to share in the joke. Jason gave him a smirk of his own.

“Actually with a degree in Gotham chances are high of becoming a supervillain.”His smile fell as he stared at Jason in shock.

“You’re shitting me.”

Jason shook his head and leaned back against his metal pole, unfolding his legs to get a modicum of comfort.

“Shockingly high amount of PhD’s amongst the rogues,” Jason explained.

That startled a laugh out of the man. He had a nice laugh. “Should have picked another city then I guess.”

“And miss meeting me in some cult’s basement?” The words escaped Jason before he’d even had a chance to consider them, it was just too tempting to banter with this man. Only the sudden silence made him realize he was flirting.

The man tilted his head slightly and gave Jason a thoughtful look. Jason found himself tensing, holding his breath, but then a smile spread slowly over the man’s lips, and Jason could breathe again.

“You know what, you’re right. I’m Danny.”

“Jason.”

“Nice to meet you, Jason.” It was said so honestly, with no hint of joking, words soft like a caress, that Jason’s breath hitched. He scrambled to get his thoughts in order. He didn’t know how to respond.

Thankfully Danny, didn’t seem to need a response.

“Urgh, you know what? Let’s get out of here. I usually stick around to see what nonsense they’re trying to do, but I’m not feeling charitable today.” With that Danny pulled his hands in front of him and pushed himself to his feet - as if nobody had bothered tying him up at all.

The action thankfully pushed Jason back into an analytical mindset. He either had training or- “Powers?”

“A few.” Danny winked at him and to his embarrassment he felt his cheeks heating - so much for the analytical mindset. Danny moved over to start to untie Jason. His hands were cold and Jason’s earlier assumption that he was chilled from the floor seemed proved. He needed to keep his mind on track and not think of the way cool fingers brushed against the insides of his wrists. Without using his powers, as he’d clearly done to get himself free, Danny was not fast.

“You shouldn’t show them off, Gotham has a real problem with traffickers.”

“Not to mention death-cults, which somehow nobody warns you about.” Danny shot right back with a put-upon sigh.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Danny ducked back in front of Jason, “if I had known the amount of supernatural shit going on- well,” Danny shrugged, “I would have probably still taken that scholarship, because beggars can’t be choosers, but I would have had warning.”

Danny went back to untying with a cursed, “idiots really mad at you fighting them, what’s up with all these fucking knots! This might feel weird.”

There was a strange liquid sensation in his wrists and forearms and then he was free. He brought his arms back to his front to inspect the damage. His fingers tingled and throbbed as he flexed them, and he had a bad case of rope burn running from wrists up his forearms. They really hadn’t liked him fighting them indeed. He’d been no where near loosing his hands or fingers, but it had been a risk if he’d been tied up too long.

Not that he’d have let it get that far, he’d have slipped out way beforehand.

Cool hands laid themselves on top of his wrists and gripped him gently. A soothing sort of cool energy seemed to seep into his skin chasing away the pain and numbness and Jason was forced to reevaluate his “chilled” theory. The cold might have to do with his powers.

Jason looked up and Danny’s face was very close. The tips of their noses were inches apart. Danny’s eyes were very blue, the light had to hit them just right right now, it was almost like the glowed.

“You really shouldn’t use your powers so obviously,” he cautioned absently, as his eyes traced the thin barely visible white scars on the left side of Danny’s face; they grew over his skin, organic like vines on a trellis - or like lightning. As if the thought had summoned it, he could suddenly smell ozone, wild, like power rippling under the surface barely held back.

“Are you going to traffic me, Jason?”

For a moment the words didn’t register. He was too busy watching Danny’s lips move. Too caught up in that power he felt. What had Danny said? This wasn’t the first time a cult went for him? A death cult? He didn’t want to stick around to be charitable today? He’d never really been a captive.

What was he?

Danny let go of him as if burned and stepped back. The sense of power disappeared just as suddenly, leaving Jason reeling with the sudden emptiness. He felt as if he’d been dropped into a desert with emptiness stretching for miles in every direction.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, “I didn’t mean to scare you. Most people don’t-“ He cut himself off.

Jason swallowed, realizing he had been scared, and pushed himself to his feet. He felt wobbly and disoriented, disconnected.

“Most people what?” He demanded, when he finally felt stable on his feet.

Danny looked at him with a worried frown. “Most people don’t feel my power at all. You’re either magic…”

There was an “or” clearly missing. Jason didn’t know why, but he knew he had to know. “Or?”

“This is really not the best place for this,” Danny hedged looking around them with a grimace.

Jason stepped forward and grabbed his arms. The power was back, though more muted than before, like it was hiding behind layers of fabric.

“Or?” He demanded.

Danny looked up at him a strange expression on his face. “Or, you have more than a passing familiarity with death.”

It felt like the ground dropped out from under Jason’s feet, that first rush of air of a fall. Yet, somehow he was still standing. Danny’s hands gripping his arms hard in return was the reason. He gave Jason a small shake and when Jason sorta focused on him, he said, “This is not an empty stomach sort of conversation. Least I know why they grabbed you too. Come on.”

And with those words suddenly they were flying up through the ceiling and the next ceiling and the next, it became a blur until suddenly they were outside in fresh air high above the city. Jason moved his legs in a startled motion, but nothing happened. He was weightless, Danny’s hold on him was light. That cool energy was flowing through him again, but this time it was his whole body.

The view of Gotham stretched out below them, behind them was the harbor, they’d been in one of the many more or less abandoned buildings that dotted the area between harbor and city proper. Too many gun fights broke out in the area over shipments of various illegal items for any legal businesses to want to rent those buildings for any substantial amount of time, which explained how a (death?) cult had set up shop.

Jason was very carefully ignoring the fact that he was flying. It wasn’t the first time he’d flown with someone - those other times however he’d still been able to feel gravity, now he was weightless. The air might as well have been water, though it didn’t press on him.

The view of Gotham was breathtaking from up here. Evening was closing in on a rare day with few clouds for Gotham which meant blue actually peeked through in spots.

Danny sent him a grin and Jason’s stomach did a flip. When Danny moved so he only held Jason’s hand, Jason noticed they were both somewhat see-through.

“Are we invisible?” He asked.

“Sure are, don’t wanna catch unwanted attention.”

With those words Danny flew them through the city until they came to a flat topped roof in view of the Gotham U campus. He set Jason down and held his hand until he was steady on his feet as gravity reasserted itself on his body, like a heavy blanket.

“I know a good burger place nearby.” Danny had said he was a student, with Gotham U in view that supported the claim. Danny continued speaking, “I will return with food, but if you want to leave in the mean time-“ He nodded towards the roof access and gave a shrug- “otherwise I will explain things once we have eaten. Any allergies or dislikes?”

Jason numbly shook his head. Danny faded away like a mirage, leaving Jason with just the view of the old campus buildings.

Jason sat down to wait. Danny had given him an out, but there was no way Jason could let this go. Not just because of his training, but because he needed to know. If Danny knew anything of what had brought Jason back…

Of course it occurred to him that Danny might have just fled himself, it would have been the smart thing to do. He had no obligation to tell Jason anything, Jason was a stranger. But somehow Jason knew Danny wouldn’t have said he’d be coming back if he wasn’t.

Jason’s gut feeling was ratified when Danny returned about 20 minutes later, brandishing a large paper bag and two milkshakes as he turned visible. Somehow Jason had felt he was there just a moment before he turned into visibility, like a prickle on his skin - it was something to examine later.

Danny had brought them both cheeseburgers and fries. The burgers were juicy and the fries crisp and spiced. Jason felt more real, more himself with hot food in his belly. Danny had given him the choice between the cherry or the pistachio milkshake as he set down beside Jason. He had chosen the cherry - it was good. With those flavor options he had to wonder what more options they had.

When their impromptu rooftop picnic was done, aside from the last of their milkshakes. Jason’s eye were drawn to Danny’s calloused hands, where they fiddled nervously with the straw.

Something was building, there was a grim set to Danny mouth and Jason was suddenly uncertain if he really wanted an explanation at all. Danny had powers that Jason could feel because they were death related, so what? That was an explanation of a sort already.

“I died when I was fourteen.”

The statement was like a punch to the gut, and Jason felt just as breathless. He snapped his head to Danny, about to tell him that he really didn’t have to tell him that, but Danny held up a hand. He met Jason’s eyes squarely, somehow conveying that it was okay, that he wanted to share this.

“An interdimensional portal opened up right on top of me, killing me, but all that energy also revived me, killed me again and revived me over an over…” His eyes slid from Jason to the skyline haunted and empty. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath, then looked to Jason again. “It left me somewhere in the middle, both dead and alive and neither all at the same time.”

Jason didn’t know what to say. The weight of the trust Danny was showing him by telling him about his death, was heavy like an anchor rooting him to the spot.

“These days,” Danny continued in a lighter tone, “I consider myself something of a bridge between the spirit and the living world. I help where I can in between trying to live and I get to be kidnapped by death cults because of my energy.” Danny shrugged carelessly, but the pinched eyebrows gave away how anxious he was about Jason’s reaction.

It was honestly not the strangest story Jason had ever heard. The world was a strange place what was one more addition to the tapestry that was Jason’s life? A thought occured to him. He carefully looked out over the city - the sunset painted the sky red in between the skyscrapers - and steeled his voice neutral.

“A bridge huh? Between the physical and the spirit world…”

“Yeah.”

“Do you also master all four elements?”

“No, mostly just ice- wait a moment,” Danny’s head snapped to face him as he caught on to the Avatar joke and he promptly punched his shoulder.

Jason laughed.

“It is not funny!” Danny insisted, yet he had to cover his mouth to muffle the laughter that wanted to escape. For a moment his shoulders quaked in silence but then he gave in and laughed.

“Fuck you, Jason, I was trying to handle this conversation respectful of the heavy subject.” Then almost as afterthought he muttered, “Ancients, I never thought of it like that.”

He leaned all the way back until he was lying on the roof, looking up to the sky. Jason followed suit.

“I don’t want to talk about my death,” Jason admitted.

“That’s alright. It’s not the sort of thing you ask a spirit to share, it has to be freely given.”

Jason turned his head to look at Danny.

“Is that what I am? A spirit?”

“I’m not entirely sure, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

Jason should probably ask him to elaborate, milk him for all the information he had. Danny was a being with still unknown powers in Gotham, Bruce would be unbearable if he learned. But Danny didn’t feel like a threat to him and Jason was tired of asking questions.

From next to him he heard a sigh.

“For a moment back there,” Danny started a wistful note in his voice, “I actually thought I might be getting lucky tonight.”

Jason snorted at the unexpected subject change. He hesitated for a moment, but then threw caution to the wind. “Who says you aren’t?”

Danny sat up so fast he jumped a foot off the ground - he didn’t even seem to notice the fact he was still hovering as he turned around in the air to face him hovering above him. “You gotta be yanking my tail! After all this?”

Jason shrugged, deliberately moving his arms a bit higher where they pillowed his head. He smirked, delighted at the way Danny’s eyes were drawn to the sliver of skin revealed as his shirt drew up.

“I, uh-“

Something occurred to Jason. “Do you have a tail to yank?”

This time it was Danny’s turn to smirk, his teeth were distinctly sharper than they had been a moment ago. Jason’s mouth went dry.

“Sometimes, when I want to.”

Jason had almost forgotten what question he had asked. When it sunk in he blushed at the implication he could change his shape. Trying to regain his composure, he teased, “So it’s a deliberate choice to be a skinny twink?”

Danny flicked his nose for that. “No, this is just me. My low energy state if you want.” He paused for a moment considering then added teasingly, “I can’t change my shape much in human form.”

“Human form?” Jason asked curiously.

Danny hummed, and reached out slowly, leaving plenty of time for Jason to move away. He didn’t. He did shudder though, when cold fingers brushed his cheek and trailed down his throat. He could feel the power held in check, a tsunami behind a dam. Holding Danny’s eyes he tilted his head back to give him more room.

Danny sucked in a breath. His eyes darkened and Jason felt the power ripple.

“Maybe I’ll show you,” Danny said slowly, “if you’re very good.”

Jason swallowed. Yeah, he could be good. He could be very good.

When Danny kissed him, Jason thought this hadn’t been too bad a day after all. Even despite the weirdness, Jason would take it. And the night? The night was shaping up to be all the better.

Bonus:

“What the Hell, Jason!”Jason startled awake at Dick’s outburst from behind him.

“You couldn’t have called us to say you were alright? I know you have more than the one phone!” Dick continued his tirade.

Danny was as awake as Jason and looked up at him with wide eyes from where he was conveniently hidden by Jason’s larger frame. Jason resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Wing,” he said tiredly as he worked to disentangle himself from Danny and turn around, but Dick didn’t even hear. He was pacing back and forth, very much not done with his rant.

“Nooooo, you get grabbed on open street and we get to find some weird cult, with a huge magic circle and strange bubbling liquids, and they have your wallet and phone - and your tracker. I can’t believe you didn’t bother to get it when you escaped!”

“Wing,” Jason tried again.

“Of all the-“

“Nightwing!” Jason said firmly with great emphasis on the call sign.

Dick spun to look at him finally. He did a double take when he saw Danny peeking over Jason’s shoulder with wide eyes.

“Danny, meet my friend Nightwing, we go back a long time. Like I mentioned, my dad being who he is, kidnapping is a risk and you meet people this way.” Jason gave Dick a telling glare and his mouth clicked shut, message obviously delivered: Jason was not compromised but he sure would be if Dick kept blabbering.

“Wing, this is Danny, my co-would-be-sacrifice. He’s a regular Houdini with rope and locked doors, he got us out.”

“Hi,” Danny said hesitantly raising a hand in a little wave.

Dick rubbed his face. “You could have called.”

“I was busy.”

“I can see that! Just-” Dick threw up his hands and walked to the window he’d entered through, “call your dad before you get busy again, he’s worried.”

He left through the window and didn’t even bother to close it, dick. Jason turned to look at Danny, he was beet red.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t even consider they might have taken your things.”

“They didn’t take yours?” They mustn’t have, Danny had gotten them food.

“I- um,” Danny grimaced then admitted, “I store my phone and wallet in my thigh for the most part.”

For a moment Jason stared, then he burst out laughing. Danny slapped his chest.

“It’s not that funny!”

But really it was, especially because of the way Danny pouted. He leaned down to kiss the pout away but Danny stopped him with a hand over his mouth.

“No, you go call your dad so we don’t get more surprise visitors.”

- Hope you enjoyed! If I get the time I want to write a small sequel for one of the last days, but I haven't started yet so we'll see.

[thatsdemko]

without you there’s nothing to live for - l.norris

masterlist

pairings: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: jealousy + insecurities + fluff + build up(kinda long I’m sorry about that) + some errors here or there

a/n: while I had bits and pieces of this work in millions of other lando drafts I think I have to give credit where it’s due to @userlando and her anons ☺️🫶 I’m in such a shit mood so i figured posting this might make me feel better. enjoy xx

Lando Norris was annoying. a childhood friend of yours that somehow stuck throughout the years and never seemed to vanish. he was like a a piece of gum stuck to your shoe, he just never left.

and while you’re thankful he’s the longest lasting friendship you have; did you fail to mention he could be annoying?

his hands drum against the kitchen island, a distraction worthy of you flicking your pencil in his direction, but he’s too quick the pencil would just end up behind him, so you result in throwing him a very pointed look that shuts him up.

“is that pencil up your ass too today?”

you give him another look before staring down at the empty grocery list you failed to create, because lando has claimed your flat as his flat. the lavish lifestyle penthouse was abandoned at the instant call of your arrival to Monaco, and now all of his expensive taste clutters your space.

“did you put eggs on the list? I need eggs. it’s good protein—“ he shuts up to the sound of you breaking the pencil in half, another annoyed look tossed his way.

lando could be a lot. but there was no one who could keep up with you. there was no one like him in your corner, and while he pushed your buttons you were eternally grateful for his loyalty despite your rather jaded friendship.

“let’s just go to the store? I’ll drive.” he says like there’s another alternative to the store. ever since he got his license and moved in, you’ve never even put your foot on the accelerator. you’ve almost forgot the thrilling feeling of driving.

“eggs have been added to the list.” you finally say, typing up your notes of a grocery list once you were finally able to think straight without lando tapping away or chatting your ear off.

god was he annoying, but you loved him for him.

—

his wallet funds are bigger than what you have. you feel guilty every time he buys, but it’s not like you have the funds to do so. he knows that guilty look across your face when he ends up paying for 10% groceries and 90% female hygiene products. he doesn’t mind, just shoves his card in the machine and says a thank you for the person who bags your things.

“you have to let me pay you back—“

“no, nonsense.” he cuts you off, the conversation goes like it always does. you beg, and beg, to try and wiggle in a payback, but he refuses. all those years of your parents giving him shelter, taking him to races, or letting him play in your backyard it’s the least he could do.

“but the price adds up, and you’re paying for most of the rent—“

“I won’t have this conversation with you. just get in the car.” he says it without letting you have another word in. it’s his turn to shoot you down with pointed looks every time you try to mention money.

“y/n?! is that you?”

lando’s heart nearly drops to his stomach at the sound of that voice—that voice, being your ex boyfriend. he came out of nowhere, like the stalker he is, and finds himself walking around lando’s spiffy mclaren with wide eyes and confusion at your presence with the formula one driver. he must’ve forgotten lando was your best friend.

“you going to introduce me to your new boyfriend?”

before you can protest lando shakes his hand. you can tell by the grip lando has on him it’s a firm hard handshake. one to prove a point about the 2 a.m calls of you crying to your best friend from across the world. he was a shitty man, and maybe showing lando off like that would put him in his place.

“this is lando, you guys met awhile back.” you say.

you watch the two of their eyes glimmer in the sunlight with hatred for one another. lando was the guy you told him not to worry about— and he still was— and he was the guy lando was desperately wanting to kick ass.

“don’t remember that.”

“I actually remember, didn’t you spend half the night snogging another girl?” lando’s gentle reminder makes your ex’s face flush pale. you watch a little smile lift to lando’s lips before you both excuse yourselves to head home.

“my new boyfriend is so cool.” you say in a sarcastic tone once it’s just the two of you in his car.

lando let’s out laugh, and just puts the car in reverse. the simple act makes your head spin. his hand reaching behind the head of your seat, the way his eyes quickly glance on you before he looks back to ensure no one is coming. these thoughts were never present until this run in. would lando be a good boyfriend?

you can’t help but explore those thoughts in the twenty minute car ride home in pure silence.

your mind wanders to the idea of waking up to him in your bed. his legs tangled with yours, lazy soft kisses pressed your cheeks. you could melt at just the thought of it.

or maybe he’d make you eggs. you’d wake to the smell of bacon grease and him shirtless—like he always is in the kitchen— creating a masterpiece meal that you devour in minutes.

what switch has suddenly changed in you? because now when you look at lando, your heart does things it never did before. your head spins of ideas of him as your boyfriend and it’s so sickening you could throw up.

“I’m going to unload the groceries, you’re more than welcome to sit and stare into space for as much as you need.” his words spook you. a little yelp escaped your lips that he’d caught you. your eyes bug wide—like they always are when you get into your daydreams— and mind so full you lose track of time and often forget your surroundings. you had no clue you’d been sitting in the driveway this whole time.

“where do you want the tampons again? I seem to forget.”

“under the bathroom sink please.”

you wonder if you can shove your thoughts under there too. a nap is needed to clear your mind of whatever seems to be boggling it all about lando.

—

a nap certainly did help, however, waking up to lando shirtless in your bed also napping? yeah, all that hard work of suppressed thoughts came right back.

you think about taking your finger and running it all over the divots, curves, and muscles of his body. you think about how much stronger he’s been looking lately and how the little hair on his chin is growing onto you. what is going on with you?

it was common for lando to come in your room and sleep with you. nightmares were rare for you, but they happened more often than you expected and lando always wanted to be there for it. but this was just a nap? why did he have to come in and sleep with you? he could’ve just slept in his own bed, that certainly would’ve helped your heart if he did.

you roll out of bed and tip toe around your bed, until your heart makes you stop. you stare at his peaceful state. the way his curls fall over his forehead, the thick long lashes you desperately want, the soft smile on his lips— his eyes are opening, shit, you think to yourself.

you quickly book it out of the room to save yourself from the embarrassment of him catching you watching him sleep. what a creep you were becoming in the matter of hours. this is why you shouldn’t like your best friend. hell, this is why you shouldn’t let your man best friend live with you. it was destined for one of you to fall in love.

but it was also destined for you to most likely get your heart broken.

lando doesn’t date women like you. you’ve seen his roster of women rotating in and out of your place, none of them looked like you: an average woman with average looks. who’d want that?

a little part of hope lingers in your chest when you see him enter the kitchen. his lips press against your temple as he mumbles a good morning.

“how was your nap?”

“not long enough.” you admit watching him type away on his phone. his elbows are pressed against the granite counter tops, his fingers work vigorously against the screen. a little smile appears on his lips that make you nauseous. it could just be max, but it could be another girl.

almost two hours ago this wouldn’t of mattered to you. you wouldn’t of cared if lando invited a girl over and you stayed locked up in your room, but now all of a sudden it’s bothersome.

“what’s got you all smiley?” you ask, partially out of curiosity but partially to just kill your heart with his response. he sets his phone face down on the counter resting his chin in the palm of his hand, “max is coming over, and so is pietra.”

“exciting.” you grin, though the words disagree with your expression making his face drop with worry.

“are you worried max is going to take your best friend spot? he could never, y/n.”

best friend. yeah, that’s all you’ll ever be when girls like ria and pietra exist. deadly beauty that could put a man in his place. when was yours ever going to show up?

—

you’re tipsy off the expensive bottle of wine max brought. your body is pressed against lando’s for support as you all laugh about something max said. you can’t help but wrap your arms around his strong bicep, resting your head against his shoulder listening to pietra expose Max’s recent mess up.

lando doesn’t take notice in the way you’re seated. he knows you’re beside him based off the heat that radiates off your body. you always got overly warm when drunk, and sometimes a bit too affectionate, but he didn’t mind. he actually loved it when you wanted to be beside him.

“so when did this happen?” pietra points her finger between you two, a bright smile pressed against her lips as she cozies herself up to her own boyfriend.

lando clears his throat. he practically yanks his arm out of your grip leaving you to fall back against the cushions beside him. you hide your face into his back out of embarrassment suddenly becoming aware of how you two look. “oh umm—“

“oh gosh! I’m so sorry. I think it’s the wine talking in me.” she quickly apologizes, a blush filters her face similar to yours.

“it’s not the first time today that’s happened.”

“do tell,” max sits on the edge of his seat listening to lando explain the run in, your face is still pressed into his back. you’re hoping that maybe if you just stay there you would disappear into thin air or end up in your bedroom sound asleep away from all of this.

“I still want to kick that guys ass—“

“wait,” pietra cuts off max, her voice demands all the attention in the room. you pry your head from out of lando and peer behind him at her, “you didn’t even tell him you are just friends? you let him assume that you’re dating?”

lando’s mouth opens and closes. nothing seems to come out making max throw his head back in a laughing fit, “oh god! I owe ria money for this, you like y/n!”

Lando’s face is flushed red, a similar color to the glass of wine in his hands. there was nothing he could say. he couldn’t even protest it when it was true. he hadn’t even realized he never corrected your ex boyfriend, because truth be told, he wanted to be shown off as your boyfriend.

“come on pietra, let’s leave these two alone.”

they leave as quick as they came, leaving only the half full bottle of wine for yourselves. you both sit in silence, no one musters up the courage to speak.

you both get ready for bed like nothing happened. the awkward silence eats you up. you want to speak up and tell him you feel the same, you want things to go back to normal. you just want annoying lando back.

when you finally finish your nighttime regiment, you’re ready for bed. you turn the corner into your bedroom and see the silhouette of lando reflecting against the wall. your night light was on, and he was laying in your bed, cozied up under the covers.

“sleeping in here tonight?” you ask slipping under the covers beside him, he moves himself closer to you occupying the middle of the bed.

“you don’t mind, do you?”

you shake your head curling your body against his, “I like it when you sleep with me.” you say making a sense of pride soar through his chest. he likes the way your body molds against his.

“your new boyfriend will protect you.” he smiles down at you, carefully place a kiss to your forehead before reaching over and turning off your lamp.

“thank goodness he’s here, I can’t sleep without him.”

“you know I’m talking about myself right?” he lifts his neck up, face looking down at you, your eyes closed practically half asleep already.

“goodnight, boyfriend.”

“goodnight, girlfriend.”

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz

want to be apart of my tag list? let me know here!

[olderthannetfic]

I just have to say, I don’t like the internet’s recent obsession with labeling everyone, but right now it’s the proship vs anti. I don’t know which side I fall on but I don’t know how to say that without getting someone mad at me. I don’t like to see proship content and I have filters on so that I don’t see it, but I also understand that it has the right to exist and that policing what people post on the internet is stupid and gatekeepy. And I also know that saying that publicly could lead to me getting doxxed or some shit like that.

I guess the main reason why I’m venting about this now is because an anon just asked whether I was proship or anti because apparently I had reblogged a post that says “proshippers dni”, even though I have no idea when I did that and can’t find the post because tumblr’s search bar is shit. I know that this anon, whoever it is, is a proshipper, but I also know that some of my mutuals are antis, and whichever label I put on myself will probably end up losing me at least one mutual and I just don’t know what to do. Is saying that I don’t care about the labels a valid option in this situation? I don’t know what to do.

I’m sorry for venting in your inbox, I just had to get this off my chest. You don’t have to respond if you don’t want to.

--

Oh for fuck sake.

First of all, stop spreading the nonsense that antis promote, which is that "proship" means "problematic ship" and/or is a label for dark content.

The term originates as "I'm not an anti" and refers to the overall stance that dark stuff has a right to exist whether or not you personally like it.

In other words, your stance.

Second, man up and say what you think. If people are dickheads about it, block them and tell them how inappropriate bullying is. The fact that most people go "Oooh, I don't know where I staaaand" is exactly why bullies are allowed to run rampant through our communities.

Do you think I don't get threats by leaving anon on to make my inbox safe for you? Of course I do! But I get far fewer than I would if I acted spineless.

If you have mutuals who are truly antis, it's time they learned that they'll lose nice and reasonable friends by being harassing assholes who believe fairy tales about video games causing violence or the sexy equivalent.

--

Say "I think these terms are both dumb. I believe dark fiction has a right to exist, but I don't want to see it. If you think it's okay to harass real people to "protect" fictional characters, you are a terrible person. I don't need a label to say I'm anti-censorship and anti-bullying."

If anyone wants to cry about that, they suck and you should remove them from your life.

[rebouks]

“What’re we doing here?”

Oscar shrugged casually, “Hanging out?”

Robin scoffed with what little joviality he could muster, “Yeah, right…”

Oscar paused and broke eye contact, staring at nothing in particular as Robin waited. It was usually fairly easy to ascertain the direction of a conversation before it even started, given that people tended to rehearse what they’d say beforehand, but not Oscar. His mind was simultaneously blank and fit to burst; he was making it up as he went along most of the time, but that was one of Robin’s favourite things about his father. It paved the way for genuine, on the fly honesty.

“Figured maybe you’d wanna talk-..” Oscar rubbed his temple, “Ask me whatever you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah-.. within reason.”

“Why’d you do it?” Robin blurted out; his eyes full of unbridled curiosity, though his father wasn’t looking at him.

“Willpower is a finite resource, y’know? I had a shitty day and I caved-.. didn’t really think about it all that much, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?”

Oscar sighed, backtracking slightly as he realised that wasn’t exactly the honesty he was going for. “Well, it’s not that you don’t think about it-.. I thought about not doing it a bunch of times, but the second I decided otherwise, I went on autopilot and got it over with as soon as possible so I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. Probably because thinking on it too hard is uncomfortable.”

“Where’d you go?”

Robin wouldn’t usually have to ask such a mundane question, but he’d struggled to fill in the blanks for himself. Oscar’s memories of the previous night were fuzzy and his thoughts sprawling.

“There.”

“The bar?”

Oscar nodded, still unable to meet his son’s gaze. “You remember it used to be a vet clinic, right? Your grandma ran it briefly, years ago-.. we lived in the flat above for a little while, when you were a baby.”

“I remember.”

Oscar sounded surprised. “You do?”

“Kinda-.. you’ve told me about it n’ stuff…”

Oscar shrugged a shoulder, supposing that’d make sense.

“You don’t have to feel so ashamed.” Robin ventured.

Oscar almost looked at Robin, though his gaze fell somewhere near his shoulder instead. How could a fourteen-year-old boy conjure such compassion? Such accuracy too. Shame.

Sometimes it felt as though he were talking to a man, not a boy. He was still a child, of course; arguing with his siblings over utter nonsense, playfighting, whinging about school and homework, leaving his dirty socks all over the place-.. but sometimes it felt like he understood much more than he should’ve. Oscar couldn’t imagine many people being so emotionally mature at thirty, never mind half as young.

“Dad…”

“I’m sure I’ll get over it-.. I always assumed I’d relapse at some point, but as the years went by, I guess I got complacent.”

“How’d it start? Like, did you just wake up one morning and realise it was an issue or..?”

Oscar shook his head slightly, running his thumb over his beard in thought. “Nah, it was slower, I just ignored it. I’d always been daft and over the top with stuff like that, partying n’ shit, y’know? It was like a crutch after a while though, and eventually, I needed it just to feel normal-.. went too far to feel nothing.”

Robin opened his mouth to speak, but Oscar wasn’t finished.

“You’ll probably get some stupid cop coming to your scout meetings or your school one day and they’ll stand there n’ tell you all about how drugs and alcohol are terrible or whatever, but it’s bollocks. Sure, they’re bad for you, but they feel good and that’s the problem. At least for me it was-.. is. It shouldn’t even be legal, really, not that it’d do much good if it wasn’t-.. it wouldn’t have stopped me, anyway.”

“I’d love to forbid you from going near it, but I’m sure you’ll all try it for yourselves one day. Maybe it’s just something to do, maybe it makes a boring night more fun, gives you the confidence to do something you’re scared of, talk to someone you’re shy around, I don’t know-.. you might hate it, you might not.”

“You hate that you still like it, don’t you?”

Oscar finally met Robin’s gaze as he nodded. “So much.” He wondered if he was making a mistake, being so open, but it was too late now and Robin had yet to balk or appear uncomfortable. If anything, he seemed concerned and intrigued, glad of the chance to ask whatever he wanted-.. not that he couldn’t usually, but the invitation was clearly welcome all the same.

“All your troubles just melt away, but they’re twice as bad when you wake up and doing it over again doesn’t solve much. It’s not the answer, Robin.”

“I know it’s not.”

Oscar’s frown softened as Robin slid beside him, threading an arm around his waist.

“You prefer being sober though, right?” he asked.

“Ah, that’s a loaded question…” Oscar sighed. “I prefer my life when I’m sober, but maybe a part of me will always crave that oblivion. It’s just something I have to live with.”

“Do you think you’ll do it again?”

“I don’t know, bud-..” Oscar admitted. “I’d like to say no but I don’t think I can make any promises, that’s not how it works.”

Robin nodded understandingly; he would’ve preferred it if his father could’ve made that promise, but a harsh truth was better than a hollow lie.

“They don’t mean much if you don’t keep em.” Oscar added.

“I get it-.. thanks for letting me ask you about it though, I know you’d rather keep it to yourself.”

“You’re still young but I know it’d drive you nuts otherwise. Besides, I don’t want it to feel like a dirty secret we can’t talk about, at least between us-.. might not wanna go telling all your friends your dad’s an alky though…”

Robin buried his face in the crook of Oscar’s shoulder and squeezed him tightly, desperate to convince his father that he didn’t think any less of him.

“Nah, they’re got enough ammunition.”

Oscar couldn’t help but snort at that. “I love you so much.”

“I know-.. I love you too.”

Robin said nothing a while as his father held him - or he held Oscar - only breaking the silence upon feeling his restless thoughts return.

“It’ll be the summer holiday’s soon, maybe we could go camping or something?”

Oscar smiled fondly. “Yeah, that’d be fun…”

Previous // Next

[parkersbliss]

Met Him Last Night | P. Graves

pairing: phillip graves x gender neutral reader 

synopsis: you make a decision to trust him, just this once. don't be surprised when it backfires.

warnings: graves, mentions of soap's death, possible timeline inaccuracies, one sexual reference

a/n: based on the song "met him last night" by demi lovato ft. ariana grande :) down bad for this man pls he's my american babe

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for call of duty!

—

“Red or white?” 

“Neither.” 

“White it is,” They tell the server, pointing to one of the names.

You sigh, leaning back in your seat. What were you doing this late at night here? With him? 

Graves is sitting in front of you, smirking at your sour expression and you want to rip it off his face. 

The server returns with the bottle and two glasses, pouring it for both of you. Graves thanks him and then gestures for you to take a sip. He grabs his glass, raises it to you in a toast, and waits. You hesitate for a second before grabbing the other glass. After all, what’s there to lose? You’ve already sat here with him, might as well make it more bearable. 

“That’s more like it,” He chuckles as you take a huge gulp. It has a hint of white peaches, delicate, but rich and intense as you finish it. 

You set the glass back down. “You’re an instigator.” 

“So they tell me,” He replies with ease. “But isn’t this so much more fun than drowning in your own sorrows?” 

You’ll give him that, at least. You weren’t sure why you thought this was a good idea. You don’t really believe in Graves and what he stood for. Or lack of what he stood for. 

Yet, here you were, sat in this restaurant with him, indulging him when you shouldn’t. A meeting with the devil. 

“You know you don’t have to like so sour to be here, darlin’. It was your choice to contact me.” 

“I’m starting to regret that,” You mumble, knowing he was right. In a moment of weakness, you begged for a contact with him and did some dingy shit, but you got it. You should at least give him a chance after all that hard work. 

“I’m not good enough company?” 

“I’ve had better.” 

He fakes a frown. “Hurtful, really. But I know you’re mourning, so I’ll let it slide.” 

You roll your eyes. “How generous of you.” 

“You know, they do say I am quite a giver.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Giver? He must have spoken wrong, he was a digger. Grave digger or gold digger. They both fit him. “Well, that’s some bullshit.” 

Graves laughs, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “No, I’m generous to the right people,” He corrects you. “My shadows get bonuses every year for Christmas.” He extends a hand to gesture at the table. “I’m paying for our lovely dinner tonight. Think that must constitute for something.” 

“Thank you,” You said, honestly. He was right after all, you called him here and all you’ve done is hurl insults at him. “I’m sorry.” 

He quirks a brow. “For what?” 

“I could be better company.”

“Ah, nonsense!” He waves a hand, dismissing your apology. His voice lowers, “Anyone in your position would be the same way, snippy and all.” 

“I’m not snippy!” You’re quick to defend. Though the look on his face says you might have just proven his point. “A little snippy,” You admit. 

“And that’s okay. It’s never easy losing a teammate to something so… preventable.” 

You clench your jaw at that mention and he takes quick notice. “But enough of that. Let’s talk about you.” 

“What about me?” 

“Anything you like, darlin’.” 

“I have a cat,” You blurt out. 

“Do ya?”

You nod. “Yeah, my friend takes care of him while I’m away. He’s uh… a tuxedo.” You pull out your phone to show him a picture. “He’s a little shit.” 

Graves leans in to look at the photo of your cat. “He’s cute, can’t blame him.” 

You snort. “I can’t have a Christmas tree 'cause he scales that thing to the top.” 

“So he likes a little fun.” Graves shrugs. “Don’t see nothin’ wrong with that.” 

You shake your head, a little amused. Of course, he would say that. “It’s more than that.” 

“Then tell me.” 

The conversion becomes easy after that. After you stopped insulting him, at least. Anyone who knew you knew the easiest way to get you to open up was through your cat. Maybe the wine is getting to your head, but he’s not so bad. Phillip makes you laugh, you make him laugh. You banter, you rant, you cry, and he understands. He promises you exactly what you’re looking for.

“We don’t play by the rules, darlin’. Believe me, I can get you exactly what you want.” 

You’re gone after that, having split the bottle of wine between the two of you. Any rational thoughts of what’s wrong and right have left your mind. The devil has promised you something, and he always keeps them. And perhaps you’ve promised something you shouldn’t have. 

He pays the bill, he walks you home with a hand on your back, and he stands at your doorway saying ‘goodnight.’ 

But you don’t want to be alone. 

He spends the night. Once. Twice. Three times. Too many to keep track of, but you didn’t care to anymore. Not when you sang Phillip’s praises when he was between your legs, or when he’s bringing you flowers when he sees you, or holding you late at night as you continue to mourn and find comfort in someone like him. 

There’s something warm and fuzzy about him. Something that makes your head spin and your legs weak. You don’t think when he’s around (maybe that’s the problem), but you don’t need to. 

“Never have to worry your pretty head ‘bout a thing darlin’.” Phillip would say, and so you did. 

You let him take care of your plan, your revenge, his promise. You let him take of you, healing some part of you that hadn’t after you lost Johnny. 

At least that’s what you thought, but maybe you got lost along the way, turned around, and headed straight into his arms. 

He made it so easy after all, didn’t he? To believe in him, that is. And you did a fucked up thing, really. A mistake on your part. Phillip had loyalty to no one but his shadows. For you to even think he’d extend that to you? Well, you had to be stupid or in love. 

And you weren’t stupid. 

You storm around your apartment, phone gripped tightly in your hand. You were fucked.

“Are you kidding me?” You practically scream. 

“Darlin’, please, it’s not personal.” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You used me.” You’re practically fuming at him. He was smart, finding you when you were vulnerable, and letting you reach out first. He prayed on your innocence, on your hurt. You damn sure weren’t letting that happen again. 

“Used is such a strong term,” Graves chides. “And really, I didn’t. You’re overreacting sweetness. This has nothing to do with you.” 

“It has everything!” 

You can hear his eye roll through the phone. “Would you just trust me on this?”

“Are you being serious? No! I’m never making that mistake again.” Graves didn’t wear disguises. You should’ve seen right through him. You knew better now. How could you ever have thought to believe him? Someone like him, with only a history of deceiving. You were there when he turned his back on you in Las Almas, at Shepard in the courtroom, and yet you believed him. He was your vice, your flaw, your reason. 

He was horrible in so many ways, but you came back every time. You craved him holding you at night, wiping the tears away. The way he’d kiss you when you would meet up, his hands roaming your body— you’d never felt this way.

“(Y/N),” He drawls and you want to fall for it, but you don’t. 

“No, I’m done. I’m leaving.” 

“Don’t be like this.” 

“You gave me a pretty damn good reason to leave. This is on you.” 

He chuckles through the phone. “If you’d let me explain, you’d see I’m not such a bad guy.” 

You shake your head. “No,” You said firmly. “No, you betrayed me and I betrayed my team.”

What were they going to think of you after this? You weren’t like this, so reckless, engaging with the enemy. No one expected this from you, and you certainly didn’t expect it from yourself, to fall so hard. But you weren’t going down without a fight. 

You bounce back like you always did. “This is the last call we’re having, Graves.” You practically spit his name out and he’s hurt when you hang up. You were always so stubborn with him. So quick to dismiss his reasons, like you’re looking for a reason to hate him. Whatever, you’ll come back. You’ll see he did this for you. He was not a bad guy, he was carrying out the plan you wanted. It just happened he had to screw over a couple people for it. He just didn’t expect you to get so worked up over it. 

You dial the next person, heart thundering. 

“(Y/N)?” A voice calls out, familiar to you and you hope they won’t hate you. That was the last thing you needed right now. You lost Johnny, and now you lost Graves (it’s a good thing you tell yourself, but your heart says otherwise), you couldn’t lose your team too. 

“Kyle, I,” You swallow, tears clouding your vision when you realize what you’ve done. “I fucked up.” 

– END –

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[goldencuffs]

afterglow

inspired by the spectral files series by s.e. harmon!!

The ghost appears in his office after Damen comes back from his lunch break. 

Damen’s had a rough week already. The free pad thai in his belly right now is literally the best thing that’s happened to him in months. That’s not even an exaggeration.

The ghost in his office has been around before. He showed up a few weeks ago, at the start of summer, his expression boyish, sunny, hands in his pockets as he’d surveyed Damen’s office with visible interest. Then he had followed Damen to the kitchen and watched him make tea. And then he had pulled faces last Tuesday, during their morning briefings, gagging at the photos of Victor Reynold’s dismembered body. 

“I smell Thai,” the ghost says now. He’s pouting. “I want Thai. I love Thai food.” 

Damen ignores him, sitting behind his desk and logging into his computer. It’s only twelve in the afternoon. Damen wants to throw himself off the ledge of the building. 

The ghost struts about his office, still talking, listing off the other cuisines he loves (Mexican, Indian, Lebanese, Italian) as Damen pretends to read his latest case notes.

“Not going to lie though, definitely shat myself when I had that. I’m talking blocked pipes and everything.” The ghost shakes his head. “Man, that was a rough weekend.”

Damen sighs. 

The ghost perks up. “I know you can see me, man. You always get that face when I’m talking to you.”

Damen picks up a pen, just so he has something to do. So he can school his face into something more neutral. 

Of course Damen can see the ghost. He sees ghosts all the time. He’s seen them since he was seven years old. As a kid, he didn’t know the children he would play with were dead until Nikandros’ foot had gone through the football they were kicking around. 

Since then, Damen’s seen them everywhere. There was a widow who used to hang around Kastor’s old place, shrilly telling him off for painting the kitchen the wrong colour. Kastor had moved out three weeks after Damen had told him that. 

Most of the time, ghosts leave him alone. Sometimes they get excited when they realise he can see them. Sometimes they just want to talk. Some of them have harmless requests, like messages they want to pass on to a loved one.

And sometimes there are ghosts like the ones in his office, who don’t seem to have anywhere to go, who only seem to be attached to him.

The last ghost like that had been Aimeric Gaul, this skinny, baby-faced kid who had sad, wide eyes. He could only go where Damen could, and kept mentioning how much he missed his mother. 

Three months into watching Aimeric cry in the corner of his office, Damen had driven down to Fortaine to see his mother. Aimeric had sat in the front seat, wide-eyed as he watched the rolling landscape.

When Damen had told Aimeric’s mother that he had a message from her dead son, her husband had pointed a gun to his forehead and said, Get the fuck off my property.

Damen was placed on suspension after that.

So, yeah. He’s wary of the ghosts like this—the ones that are, inevitably, drawn to him. They’re the ones that cause trouble. 

Damen’s been through enough, thanks. He’s only just back from his suspended time off, and Jokaste has cleared the last of her things from their place, and sometimes he still panics when he can’t find the ring on his left hand, until he remembers that it’s shoved in a drawer in his closet. 

The ghost is still talking. “You know what I really miss though? Dumplings. Highly underrated, man. When’s the last time you had one? Take it from me—have as many dumplings as you can while you’re still alive. ‘Cause, one day you’re gonna be dead, and there’s no fucking dumplings here. Which is shit if you think about it, the least—”

Damen’s phone rings. He picks it up, glad for the distraction. 

Makedon’s voice is no-nonsense. “My office, now. Bring coffee.” And then he hangs up. 

Damen deliberately doesn’t bring the coffee. Makedon frowns at him, but doesn’t say anything else. 

He pushes a file towards him. “Welcome back, kid. Latest cold case is all yours.”

Damen groans. “Seriously? You’re assigning me to cold cases? What about Reynold’s murder? I hear they need more manpower.”

“Nah.” Makedon shakes his head. “Don’t think you’re in the right headspace for all that shit.” 

“That shit?” Damen repeats, frowning. “You mean, my job?”

Makedon stares at him for a few beats. “This is part of your job too, detective. Everyone gets assigned cold cases every now and then.”

“Bullshit,” Damen snaps. “You haven’t assigned me a real case in months, even before—” And here, he falters, too ashamed to bring up Aimeric. 

Makedon isn’t a soft man. Everything about him is rigid and unmoveable. But he does relax his shoulders a little. 

“This isn’t just about what happened in Fortaine. When’s the last time you slept, kid?”

Damen frowns.

“Yeah, exactly. Divorce ain’t easy, and it’s clearly been affecting you more than you realise. You’re so… angry all the time. You clocked the new intern so badly last week, he had to go home early.”

Damen sighs, heart twisting a little. Yeah, okay, yelling at Erasmus in front of everyone hadn’t been a good move, but Damen had his reasons.

…He just can’t remember them right now. 

“Work the case with Huet,” Makedon continues, “He’s good company, and isn’t afraid to step up.” 

Damen snatches the file. “Whatever,” he mutters darkly. “What’s the case?”

Makedon sighs. “Some kid drove himself into a lake about a decade ago. Was conclusively claimed as a suicide at the time, but his brother’s statement is pretty interesting, suggests foul play.”

Damen’s eyebrows raise. “Murder?”

Makedon shrugs. “The brother was thirteen at the time, and very close with the victim. So it could be an emotional thing. But…”

“But?”

“He pointed fingers at their uncle. Claimed he had strong evidence it could be a murder, but no one really looked into it too closely.”

“Hmm,” Damen says. “So, what, we’re supposed to go on the word of a teenager?”

“A very persistent teenager. Have a look—he’s called at least several times a year to see if the case has been reopened.”

“No shit,” Damen says in surprise. “He actually share any of this evidence, though? Or tell us why the uncle could be the perpetrator?” 

“That’s your job to find out.” Makedon yawns. “Where’s my fucking coffee?”

But Damen doesn’t pay attention to him. The first page of the case file is a headshot of the victim. 

Damen knows that face. He just left him in his office.

***

Auguste Henri Revere is—was—twenty-five when he died. 

He was incredibly popular, well-liked, and good at pretty much everything he did. Damen reads everything in his file: football captain, scholarship student at Arles University, part-time volunteer at the children’s hospital…

He doesn’t seem like the guy who would kill himself. Then again, the worst part about this job has always been that people can surprise you—in the worst ways possible. 

Nothing about his death is suspicious. It happened close to midnight, near a popular stretch of road in the city centre. There were several witnesses that saw a cream 1972 Ford Mustang veer off the road, straight into the lake. Police found a suicide note typed on Auguste’s laptop. He had cleaned his room the night before, donated things like clothes, jewellery, and sneakers. 

Damen reads what Laurent Gabriel Revere said. Now that statement is strange. Laurent was thirteen when Auguste died. Sources say they were close, that Auguste doted on him, especially since they were orphans, living with their uncle. Two years after Auguste died, Laurent showed up at the police station and accused their uncle of killing Auguste. He claimed he had evidence, but failed to elaborate. Witnesses said they had heard Laurent and his uncle fighting at the Revere home just half an hour before Laurent showed up at the police station. 

Police issued a search warrant at the Revere house. His uncle had readily complied. Nothing had been found. Nothing had been found in Auguste’s recovered car either. And there was never an autopsy done on his body. 

“Huh,” Damen says. 

He looks up at Auguste, who’s staring at the view outside his floor-to-ceiling windows. For the first time since he showed up in his office, Damen feels sorry for him. Auguste is twelve years older than him, but now here he is, forever twenty-five. Damen’s older than him now, and it’s strange to think about. What makes him more deserving of life? He isn’t even a good person—not the way Auguste is. Was. 

It’s not the most conventional way to start an investigation, but hey, he might as well. “How’d you die?” Damen asks.

Auguste turns to him blinking. His eyebrows raise. “That’s the first thing you say to me after all this time? Jesus, that’s cold, man.”

Damen bites his bottom lip. “Do you remember the day you died? Did you… er.” He can’t bring himself to say kill yourself. 

“The day I died? Hmm.” Auguste’s golden eyebrows furrow. “Let me see… I took Laurent out that day. We went to the fair, and he kept pretending he was too old to go on the rides.” His smile turns fond. “Then we… I dropped him home. I went to meet some friends but I don’t think I made it.”

“Fuck!” Damen scrambles up from his seat, and he’s grateful that his office door is closed. He doesn’t think he could explain to anyone why he’s so horrified. 

Blood streaks down from Auguste’s mouth, the corner of his eyes. His clothes are soaked through, turning transparent. His golden hair is matted and wet against his scalp.

Auguste moans. “I don’t feel so good. I don’t… I can’t talk about this anymore.” 

The blood starts pouring out of his ears. 

Damen stands, paralysed, unable to move. 

And then in a blink, Auguste disappears.

***

“Damn,” Huet says. “How much do you think this place will sell for? Three mill right? I mean, at least.” 

“Shut up,” Damen says. Huet is a new recruit and he is far too peppy and talks far too much. He is definitely not good company. 

Privately, Damen agrees about the house. It’s huge, a sprawling mansion adorned with steep, gabled peaks and chimneys, topped with slate tiles that glisten in the sunlight.  Ivy and climbing roses cling to the walls. As well as being Superman, Auguste was also apparently incredibly rich. 

The man who opens the door is undoubtedly related to Auguste. It’s the eyes—Damen has been staring at those blue eyes in photos and in his office for weeks now.

Richard Revere is in his mid-fifties. His hair is dark, coiled, and his beard is trimmed and peppered with white. There are rings on each of his fingers—giant gemstones that glisten as he shakes Damen and Huet’s hands as they introduce themselves.

He has no qualms about being questioned and invites them in. 

Damen’s eyebrows raise. They’re greeted by a grand foyer with a sweeping marble staircase, its balustrade intricately wrought iron, leading to the upper floors. The interior is a blend of opulence and warmth, with high ceilings, ornate moldings, and crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow over the richly decorated rooms. Antique furniture, plush draperies, and elegant tapestries fill the spaces, each room telling its own story of centuries past.

Richard has no issues with them being in his house. Damen has done this for long enough to go by his gut—and so far this man doesn’t seem like a murderer. He just seems like a rich man from an affluent society. 

Richard makes them tea, and then says, “So. You’ve opened my nephew’s case again?”

“We have,” Damen says. They’re sitting on the most comfortable armchairs he’s ever been, in a room with far too many books and far too many globes. 

“Interesting.” Richard sips his tea. For the first time, his tone is cold, disapproving. “May I ask why? I believe the last set of detectives were incredibly thorough.”

Damen nods. “I’m sure they were. But you understand we’re in a delicate position. We can’t brush off… certain statements.”

“Ah.” Richard’s mouth quirks in amusement. “So this is about Laurent, then.” 

It’s Huet who nods this time. He says, “He called the last leading detective just six months ago, sir. He’s still adamant about…” He awkwardly trails off. 

Now Richard looks very amused. “Oh, I see. Of course. Did you know Laurent happens to make those calls to the police station every time we have a fight?” 

“Well,” Damen says, as Huet makes a note of that. “We’d like to talk to him too. Is he around?”

“He is.” Richard nods. “Upstairs, sleeping.”

Damen doesn’t react when Auguste appears in the living room. He looks like his usual self, dry and golden, free of blood. 

“You need to go upstairs,” Auguste says, and for the first time, there’s a note of frustration in his voice. “I can only go where you go. I want to go upstairs. I want to see my room. I want to see Laurent.” 

“We’ll come back later then,” Damen says. He ignores Auguste’s No! 

Richard leads them back out into the sunlight. Auguste trails after them, eyes flicking over every inch of the house, his gaze wondrous. It fills Damen with pity. 

They make their goodbyes out on the porch. Damen can see some of the neighbours take interest in their police car, but Richard seems unfazed. 

A portly woman at the end of the driveway asks them, “Laurent again? He’s a shame to the Revere name.”

Huet raises both eyebrows. Damen makes a mental note of that.

As they walk to the car, they hear a frantic, whispered. “Hey!”

Auguste gasps. “Laurent.” 

Damen follows his eyes. There’s a window at the side of the house on the second level. Someone’s opened it up enough to wave at them. 

Damen steps closer. Auguste rushes up to the window. “Laurent!” 

Laurent doesn’t hear his brother. But he does notice Damen approaching and beckons him over. 

Damen stands under the window, shoulder to shoulder with a dead man, and looks up at the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

Laurent’s hair is golden, falling across those same stunning, blue eyes, his lashes long and dark. His skin is luminous and sweetly pink. 

“Damn,” Huet says under his breath. 

“He’s so grown up,” Auguste whispers. 

“You’re here for Auguste’s case?” Laurent says. 

Damen has to strain to hear him. Laurent’s voice is low, anxious, like he’s worried about being caught. 

“Yeah, we are.” Damen clears his throat, which is suddenly scratchy.

Something bright sparks in Laurent’s eyes. He’s still whispering. “Great. You think you can meet me at the diner down the road in an hour? I can’t get away until he leaves the house.”

That instantly sets alarm bells in Damen’s head. He frowns. 

“God, he looks so different,” Auguste says.

Damen nods at Laurent, who’s still anxious, still waiting for a response. 

“Okay, we’ll see you.”

Laurent nods and shuts the window, disappearing from view. After a moment, Auguste does too. 

[mermaidxatxheart]

A Day at the Fair

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word count: 6665

Summary: the DEA are about to make a drug bust at the county fair and Javi gets distracted

A/N: thanks to @musings-of-a-rose for listening to me about all my nonsense lol

The crowd around them is loud, but Javier Peña can tune out crowds with the best of them. With a family the size of his, that loves to stick their noses where they don’t belong, he’d have to be.

His partner, however, always gets itchy in crowds. Steve Murphy isn’t a people kind of person. Or… maybe he is as long as they’re not cops. Who the fuck knows? Javi throws another dart onto the rotating dart boards. Bullseye number two.

Murphy scoffs, stuffing a nacho chip in his mouth. “How can you do that?” He asks, turning away from the booth to scan the crowd.

Their target hasn’t arrived yet and Javi is bored with a capital B. He didn’t want to do this drugs bust here at the fair, but Upper Management overruled him. Shocker. He throws another dart, almost not even paying attention and it lands on a bullseye once more.

“Patience, skill, it’s all in the wrist.” Peña shrugs.

“Whatever. I thought you didn’t like the fair.” Murphy mumbles.

“Entirely not true.” Javier says, watching a pretty girl walk by. “I just didn’t want to take down a drug dealer in front of little kids. I’ve got standards, man.” He grins, throwing the fourth dart without even looking.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve rolls his eyes with a sardonic chuckle. Bullseye number four.

“Do you want a go? We’ve got time for you to practice.” Javi teases, offering him the last dart. The booth is just a small square tent with open views on all sides so crowds can gather all around. Cheap stuffed animals are hanging from the ceiling, and Peña has his eye on a stuffed panda for his niece. In the center is a large disc that rotates around in a circle with five dart boards lying flat. If you can get all five darts in the center of any of the boards, you get a prize.

“Oh, fuck off.” Murphy mutters. “It can’t be that hard.” He takes the last dart and studies the rotating board intently.

Peña checks his watch, mostly just to mess with him. “Come on, pendejo, it’s not brain surgery.”

Murphy ignores him, as is usual, and takes his time before finally throwing it. It bounces off the metal rim and falls to the ground.

“Shut up.” He warns instantly, and Javi artfully disguises his shit-eating grin.

He pulls another five bucks from his wallet and hands it to the guy running the booth. Luckily for the two DEA agents, or maybe more for the guy running the booth, this spot has the best vantage point to keep an eye on the area of suspicion. They’ve been stuck in this area for thirty minutes at least.

“How are you not sweating, man? This heat is the worst.” Murphy says, shaking out his shirt.

“You lived in Colombia for how long? And after living in Texas-Florida heat is nothing.” He shrugs, throwing the first dart.

“Whatever, you freak. I’m gonna hit the head.” Steve tosses his nachos and wanders away.

Javi is mostly wasting time with the darts. But someone steps next to him and he’s glad Steve walked away. He throws the last dart and gets his bullseye as the pretty girl next to him watches, impressed. He gestures to the panda as his prize and you lean against the railing next to him.

“Interesting choice. I would have assumed the shark.” You say, the teasing smile evident in your voice.

Javi looks from the panda to you and back, examining it. “You think so?”

“Oh, absolutely.” You nod matter of factly.

“And why is that?” He asks, leaning next to you, keeping one eye on the area, but you have most of his attention.

“Sharks are mostly harmless until provoked. You seem like you could be dangerous, but most of the time it’s just not worth your effort.” You say.

He chuckles with a self-effacing nod. “Maybe.” He watches you tuck your hair behind your ear before you smile back up at him.

“What’s your name?” You ask.

“Javier.” He answers. “You?”

You tell him your name and he can’t help but think that it’s one of the prettiest names he’s ever heard.

“Can I ask, Javier, you don’t really strike me as the fair-goer-type. Are you having fun?” You ask.

“Why does everyone think I don’t like fairs?” He asks exasperatedly.

“Well, you did bring a gun.” You whisper, gesturing to the bump on his hip that’s his gun, covered only by his favorite Hawaiian shirt.

He starts at that. “How did you-“

You grin. “My ex-fiancé was a cop. Or, still is, I suppose.”

“Is him being a cop the reason he’s an ex?” He asks.

“No. It was the cheating, the lying, the secret family.” You tick off on your fingers like adding ‘secret family’ to the end of that sentence isn’t the most wild thing to reveal to a stranger. “I was fully ready to be married to a cop. But apparently so was his wife.” You shrug. “My dad, my uncles, my grandpa-all cops. So, lucky for you, I know not all cops are cheating dirtbags, and if I happen to meet a handsome cop at the fair and he were to buy me food or win me a prize, I wouldn’t say no.” You say and all he can do is stare as it dawns on him that you’ve actually been flirting with him this whole time. He used to be better at this.

“Peña.” His earbug crackles and it makes him jump.

“Peña, here.” He responds, never taking his eyes off your pretty face.

“Get your fucking ass ready, man. Target’s here.” Murphy says exasperatedly.

“Shit.” Javi curses.

“Duty calls?” You guess and he’s never been more annoyed at his job than now.

“Unfortunately.” He glances down at the panda in his hand. “Will you hold onto this?” He asks and you nod, taking it in your arms. “I’ll be right back.” He promises quickly before taking off.

That was stupid. He shouldn’t have promised you that.

***

You watch the most handsome man you’ve ever met jog across the green and vault himself over a low brick wall.

“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest, trapping the stuffed panda there for safe keeping. “Javier Peña.” You muse, walking towards the funnel cake stand nearby. You hope he does come back.

The panda intrigues you, as does the impeccable ability to throw darts at a moving target and never miss.

“I think I’ll call you Amanda, Amanda the Panda.” You tell it. “You look like you want some funnel cake while we wait.” And that’s exactly what you do. There’s a picnic bench nearby and you wait there until Javier isn’t busy anymore.

Whomever he’s arresting, they have a lot of stuff going on because it’s taking forever. You eat a funnel cake, a gyro, and some amazing brisket queso fries.

You snag a napkin not stained with grease and write your address on it. You see him hop back over the wall, heading for you and you smile to yourself.

“Sorry that took so long.” He huffs, running a hand roughly through his dark locks.

“No worries.” You smile at him. “Everything work out alright?” You ask.

“Better than we hoped.” His eyes drop to the stuffed panda tuwcked safely in your arms. “I can take that back.” He starts, reaching for it, but you twist slightly out of his grasp.

“Actually,” you hesitate and he frowns. “Amanda and I have bonded. And we’ve decided that-“

“I’m sorry, who’s Amanda?” He squints.

“Amanda the Panda. And we’ve decided to split custody. So, you can take her back tomorrow night, when you pick us up for dinner.” You tell the poor, shocked cop, handing him the napkin with your address on it.

He takes the napkin dumbly and clears his throat, a smile starting to tug at his pretty lips. “How does seven sound?”

“Like a date.” You reply, taking a step back. “See you tomorrow.”

He waves with a half salute and you disappear from his line of sight into the crowd.

Javi

“You’re really going?” Murphy asks in surprise.

“She’s holding my panda hostage.” Javi shrugs. The whole idea is absurd. But you were really fucking cute, extorting a date out of him.

Steve laughs. “I thought DEA agents don’t negotiate. What did she name the thing again?”

“Amanda the Panda. And who’s negotiating?” Peña grins, tucking his aviators on and heading out of the office’s front doors.

“Good luck with your hostage situation!” Murphy calls after him. Javier departs with a middle finger tossed behind him.

Nervously, ridiculously afraid to do the wrong thing, he buys you flowers. Not roses, that’s… a lot to get back a panda. But daisies? Absolutely.

He pulls up in front of your house and he can tell you’ve put a lot of work into it. The gardens are beautiful and in full bloom, filled with bushes and trees of a deep emerald green, flowers that are bright reds, soft coral pinks, and deep purples. Your house is a quaint one story cottage painted a pastel pink with a white trim.

He gets out of his little truck and walks up to the front door, a soft brown wood, the white paint worn down with age and sand blasting probably. A wreath made of bleached coral and seashells hangs on the door.

If this isn’t the most Florida home he’s ever seen.

He knocks solidly and it’s only a second or two before the door swings open and he’s momentarily speechless. Your hair is styled into soft curls, tempting him to reach out and touch them, run his fingers through them and make them a mess. Your lips are the softest, most delicate shade of pink. You’re wearing a sundress that is so tempting, he almost has to walk away. Thin white straps, bright red cherries with bright green stems. A gathered sweetheart neckline that shows off your heavenly curves perfectly almost has him wishing the weather was just a little bit cooler. But you’d probably find a way to torment him then, too. He can’t even force himself to look down your perfect body to see what kind of shoes you chose to destroy him with. He glances anyway. Simple white platform pumps.

Christ, he’s in trouble.

“I have to admit, I’m not sure I really expected you to show.” You tell him, drawing his attention back to your face.

“You look amazing.” He manages, handing over the flowers.

“Oh, thank you. These are beautiful.” You take them, stepping back and letting him into your home.

He’s not quite sure what he was expecting; maybe a lot of pink to match the outside, looking for all the world like an overstuffed cafe. But it’s actually quite comfortable. Soft colors: sky blue, blush pink-nothing in your face bright. The furniture is cozy without being an explosion of stuffing. It looks like a comfy beach cottage.

“I like your house.” He manages again as you set the flowers in a pretty vase on the coffee table.

“Thank you. I wanted something that reminds me of a day at the beach.” You smile at him and he loses his train of thought again. You select a soft white cardigan off the hooks by the door. “Ready to go? I’m excited to see what you have planned.” You say and he scratches at the back of his head.

“Ready.” He opens the don’t door for you and closes it behind him, waiting patiently while you lock it. “So, you enjoy being at the beach?” He asks, leading you to his little pickup truck.

“Yeah. I can’t imagine living in Florida and hating it.” You look at him curiously. “Do you hate the beach, Javi?” You ask as he opens the door for you, almost as if a yes would devastate you.

He closes it and walks around, climbing in. “No. It’s hard to chase someone in the sand, but I like the view.” He says, turning over the engine. Your perfume fills the space, swirls around him and he finds himself taking extra long breaths just to smell it longer. It’s floral, soft. Beautiful.

“Do your suspects run on the beach a lot?” You ask and he chuckles.

“No, thank god.”

“That’s good. The beach should be for fun things.” You say definitively.

“Like what?” He prompts. He could listen to you tell him things all day long. Doesn’t matter if it’s shit he already knows. Tell him again.

“Tanning, seashell collecting, skinny dipping, watching the waves and storms roll in, kissing in the rain.” You shrug. “The usual.”

He nearly swerves as you mention skinny dipping. You just might kill him. “I like your thinking.” He manages and you laugh.

“You’re adorable when you blush.” You say, half turning to face him in your seat.

“I don’t blush.” He protests.

You reach out softly and brush his cheek. “Right here. Just the cutest.” You tease and his stomach is a mess with butterflies. He captures your hand and kisses the back of it before setting it on the middle seat. But you don’t let go, instead, scooting closer, linking your arm around his and resting your cheek against his shoulder.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“I was thinking Cuban food?”

“Oh my god, yes.” You agree enthusiastically, and he’s happy you’re so into it.

He parks outside the little restaurant and gets out, with you following him out of his door. You reclaim his hand, following him inside.

***

Javier is adorable, blushing at any little innuendo you make. You don’t think he’s innocent, just not used to being on the receiving end.

The restaurant is exactly what you would expect from a Cuban eatery. Full of life, culture, loud music, and amazing smelling food. There are couples dancing out on the cobblestone patio out back that you can spot as you’re led to a booth.

You slide all the way in, leaving space for Javi next to you if he wants, and you hope he does. He slides in next to you, arm draping comfortably on the back of the booth. The waiter sets menus in front of you and walks away to give you time to look.

You shift against Javi slightly, getting comfortable against the side of his chest, hoping that he doesn’t mind you getting so personal so fast.

“Have you been here before?” You ask.

“A couple times. The food is really good.” He says, opening one of the menus. “I like the Milanesa de pollo with white rice and black beans. Or the masitas de puerco.” He says, pointing them out on the menu.

“I get one, you get the other?” You offer and he chuckles.

“Works for me.” He agrees, flipping to the cocktails.

You’re watching him as he reads them off to you. He’s beautiful. You saw it yesterday while he was casually dominating the carnival game. But today? He looks less stressed, even if you do make him flustered.

He seems to realize you’re not really listening to him and he cuts off short, looking at you, confused. “Are you alright?” He asks and you can’t help but smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m perfect.”

The waiter comes back over and you let Javi order for you, his Spanish being far superior to yours.

“So, whole family of cops, engaged to one, looking to date another.” He starts and you’re already grinning. “Are you a cop?” He asks and you laugh.

“No. I’ve broken tradition. I was going to be a teacher, but hated it. So, now I’m a writer. I get to make my own schedule, my own office. My commute is from my bedroom to my living room.” You say and he laughs. It’s deep and a little rough.

“That sounds perfect, to be honest. Have I read anything of yours? I didn’t recognize the name.”

“Probably not. I write under a false name. I do a bit of everything-mystery, horror, romance. Whatever strikes me.” You shrug. “You also don’t seem like the type to have a ton of time to read.”

“Guilty, but maybe I’ll start.” He winks.

You clear your throat, fighting a sudden and overwhelming urge to kiss this man. He’s holding you, smelling oh-so-good, and taking an interest? Christ, you just might marry him.

“So, you know about my awkward ex. Anyone lurking in your past?” You ask.

“Oh, you know, just an almost wife.” He says so casually as he sips his drink that it’s almost payback for you doing it to him.

“Almost wife?” You press, eyebrows lifting high.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat gruffly, crunching an ice cube. “Her name was Lorraine. And she was amazing, and I left her the night before the wedding.” He says. He’s not proud of it-you can tell. But he told you, which says something to you, giving you a sense of warmth? Pride? Honor?

“Why?” You ask softly.

“It’s complicated, but the long and tall of it is that she lied about being pregnant to get me to marry her. Told me the night before the wedding that it was all fake. I couldn’t get past it.” He scratches at his chin.

“I don’t blame you.” You say, taking his hand over your shoulder. “I’ll tell you what, though.” You start, looking up at him.

“What’s that?”

“Their losses are our gains.” You say brightly and he presses a chuckling kiss to your temple, setting off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, sweetheart.”

Your food is served and not once while you’re eating does the conversation falter. You find out he’s a DEA agent. He’s recently moved back from Colombia where he was stationed. His family all lives in Texas but he only feels a little guilty for not getting back to see them often enough. But his ex is still there and that makes it awkward.

You push your empty plate away, satisfied. “Shit, that was delicious.” You sigh, patting your stomach. His eyes follow the motion and it’s hard to tell in the dim lighting, but you’re pretty sure his pupils got bigger.

“How are you at dancing?” You ask, tipping your head back to look up at him.

“I can hold my own. Would you like to dance?” He asks.

“I would love to.”

He drops cash on the table and leads you out under the string lights and pulls you close. The song switches to something slower. You don’t recognize it, but apparently Javi does. His cheek is resting against yours, holding your hand against the center of his broad chest as he dances the both of you across the semi-crowded floor. He’s humming along and you can’t help but close your eyes, leaning against him, completely at ease. You could very easily spend your days like this, dancing with him in your kitchen after dinner, glass of wine in your hand, this beautiful man in your arms.

The song ends and he pulls back from you, looking almost as reluctant as you are. “We have to go, cariño. I have more planned for us.” He says and you perk up.

“You do?”

“Of course. I need to make a good impression if I ever want my panda back.” He teases.

You grin. “Fair enough, Mr. Peña. Lead the way.” You tell him and he takes your hand, leading you out into the humid air. It’s starting to get dark and you wonder what he could possibly have planned.

He opens his door and you climb back in, sliding across the bench seat to make space for him. He climbs in next to you and gives you a smile before he starts his little truck.

You shift against him, getting comfortable once more. His big arm is around you and it doesn’t really matter to you where he’s taking you.

“Are you always this forward?” He asks, getting back on the road.

“I see no point in lying or hiding what I want.” You shrug. “I like you, I think you’re beautiful. Why would I hide that I want you?”

He gives a strangled sort of chuckle. “Jesus.” He tugs you close, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I like the way you think, princesa.”

“Good.”

“It doesn’t bother you that I’m older?” He asks.

“Not at all. Men my age just want another mommy. Men like you aren’t looking for that, you’re more experienced, and you’re not looking to play games with my head. Either you want me, or you don’t.”

“Oh, trust me, Angelita, I want you. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting you.” He says, pulling into a drive and you recognize the drive-in theater. He buys two tickets and you smile to yourself.

Movies under the stars with Javier? What could be more perfect?

He backs his truck into a space and you look at him, confused. “How are we going to watch it backwards?”

“Come on.” He opens his door and helps you down. You wobble in the grass on your heels and he grins down at you. “God, you’re cute.” He climbs up into the truck bed and pulls out blankets and pillows.

You stare at him, surprised and amazed. Whatever you had expected from tonight, this wasn’t it. You watch him move around to make the truck bed comfortable and cozy for you. You might have to kiss him. You smile to yourself as he hops back out.

“Ready?” He asks, holding out his big hand to you.

“More than ever.” You accept and he leads you to the back.

“Want popcorn?” He asks. You nod enthusiastically and he chuckles. “Ok, doll face. I’ll be right back.” He jogs away to the concession stand a couple rows away and you slide up onto the tailgate while you wait for him. He comes back fairly quickly despite how busy the drive-in is. He sets popcorn and two sodas next to you and goes to move the speakers, setting them on the ledges of the truck bed. He comes back around and looks at you, almost waiting.

“It’s perfect, Javier.” You reach forward, hooking a finger around the top buttoned button of his shirt and pull him closer between your thighs. You press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for making tonight so wonderful.” You say softly and his eyes dip closed.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He steps back for you to get comfortable and you cross your legs, removing your heels. You set them out of the way just inside the edge of the truck bed. He lets out a soft little noise and you glance at him curiously.

“Hermosa, you’re killing me.” He sighs, sliding up next to you and taking off his dusty boots. It’s almost weird to you how watching him take off his shoes feels like something intimate. You get the feeling that he doesn’t allow himself to be comfortable around many people.

He sets his boots next to your heels and shifts himself to the back against the pillows with the popcorn and your drinks.

“Coming?” He arches an eyebrow and pats the spot next to him. Yeah, you’re gonna kiss this man until your lips fall off.

You roll and turn to crawl to him on your hands and knees until you can twist and sit next to him.

“Shit.” You hear him curse quietly and you smile innocently to yourself. Glad to know you’re having just as much of an effect on him as he is on you. You shift against him comfortably as his big arm slips around your shoulders, holding you against him. He settles the popcorn between your thigh and his where you can easily reach it. You take a piece, popping it into your mouth. His thumb is brushing soft, slow strokes against the front or your arm next to him, his own like a bar across your chest.

“Do you miss Colombia?” You ask.

“Not particularly. I was down there for my job. I’m certainly not minding being back in the states right now.” He grins down at you.

You smile back, bringing his hand to your mouth, gently kissing his palm. The smell of him is surrounding you, encasing you in everything that is Javier Peña and you never want to leave.

His hand gently cups your throat, sliding up under your chin to tilt your head back for him. He presses those soft lips to your forehead and you close your eyes, crossing your legs tightly. This man is a menace that you will gladly invite into your bed. He shifts, another kiss to your temple, your cheek, his thumb stroking your jaw.

Fuck, you’re fucking wet.

The movie starts and he lets you go, turning his attention to the screen.

Rude.

***

He has you desperately trying to hide your peals of laughter as you fight for a piece of popcorn. Every time you reach for a piece, he’s tickling your sides, or taking your hand and eating the piece out of your fingers. His soft lips trap your fingertips in his mouth, his tongue brushing against the pads, licking them free of any salt or butter. His other hand tickling your side to distract you.

It’s when he nips your fingertips that you freeze, fingers still in his mouth. That turned you on more than it was probably supposed to. He releases your fingers and you don’t immediately pull away; instead, letting your thumb brush cross his soft-as-sin lower lip.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you have to inhale extra and your lungs hurt. In that split second, your lips part, his gaze drops to your mouth and then you’re kissing. You don’t know who moved, maybe you both did.

His mouth on yours is like a flame, searing the air from your lungs. He licks at your bottom lip, parting you further, hands gripping at your back, and waist as you thread your fingers through his soft curls. You turn, swinging one leg over his big thighs. His hands grip your thighs, ruching up your dress as they slide up your body to your back and hair, holding you against his chest.

You rock your hips, trying anything to get closer to him, fingers deep in his soft locks. A little tug as you rock and you’re rewarded with the softest moan against your open mouth. His fingers press into your back, crumpling your dress in his possessive grip.

He breaks away from your mouth, kissing down your jaw, your throat, your shoulders as he slides the straps off.

“Hermosa, mierda.” He groans against your skin. “Por favor, can I touch you?” He whispers, and you nod, lost in the feel of him growing hard under you.

He kisses you fiercely, hand sliding under the hem of your summer dress. Soft fingertips skimming up your bare thighs as you nip at his lip, returning the kiss just as eagerly.

He pulls your panties to the side, burying his face against your bare shoulder. He groans as his pads swipe through your drenched folds, teasing your clit with little nudges.

“Cariño, all for me?” He teases. “You’ve been tempting me all night with this pretty dress.” He tells you in a whisper, rubbing tight slow circles around your sensitive little nub. He gives it a few minutes, drawing out your pleasure as it coils low and hot in your belly. You’re cupping his face, kissing him in between ragged breaths and soft moans, pleas for more. He slides his thick fingers down away from your clit towards your entrance, probing you and driving you crazy. He kisses along your neck, licking and sucking a very deliberate mark onto your skin. He nips at it, soothing it with his tongue and sucking before starting again as his fingers coat themselves in your slick before he pushes two inside your warm, velvety tunnel. He moans quietly against your chest. The stretch from his fingers alone is enough for you. You can’t imagine any other part of him yet. His thumb takes up tormenting your sensitive clit as his fingers stroke along your frontal walls easily.

“J-Javi,” your voice breaks as you try to be quiet. But all you can think about is him. The way he smells, and the way he’s clinging to you, the way his mustache scrapes against your skin, the way his tongue licks against you.

“Sh, sh, hermosa.” He coos, nibbling at your earlobe. “Gotta be a good girl for me. Gotta be quiet so all these people don’t know what a naughty girl you are, letting a cop touch this pretty pussy in public.” He says, his voice low and husky in your ear, only serving to make you wetter. You’re grinding against his hand, gasping against his cheek, clinging to him. His other arm is around you, holding you tight against him as he fingers you. “Good girl, baby. So tight, taking my fingers so good.” He praises and you’re melting against him. You lift up, body starting to tense as you try to escape the oncoming orgasm.

He catches the neckline of your dress with his teeth and pulls it down, exposing your breasts to him as you tremble, cumming on his fingers with a whine. “That’s it, baby. Such a good girl. You can give me more.” He encourages, latching onto a nipple and giving it the same treatment he gave your neck. Pleasure shoots straight to your cunt where he stokes it against your g-spot.

“J-Javi,” you gasp and he bites gently on your nipple in response. You shudder, grinding harder on his hand beneath your dress.

“Love the way you moan my name, princesa.” He fingers you diligently, never slowing down, his eyes always on you. “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, you cumming on my fingers. Wanna keep you like this.” He moans. You push down, grinding half against his hand and half against his crotch. He’s hard and aching, you can feel him twitch under you every time you moan in his ear.

You kiss him desperately, tugging at his hair as he steadily works you higher and higher until you snap for the second time. It occurs to you, somewhere in your orgasm-muddled- brain, that he has his fingers inside you out in public where anyone walking by can see. Your tit is out on display, granted it’s crushed against his broad chest, but still.

He licks a hot stripe up the center of your chest, along your throat, to your mouth, kissing you messily. “You’re dripping down my hand, hermosa. Got you so wet.” His own deep voice cracks as you whimper against his neck. “Want you to cum again. Want you to soak my hand, baby. Drench me and give me everything you have.” He urges, fingers picking up pace inside you and on your clit. His arm is wrapped tightly around you, holding you where he wants you. He sucks on your neck again, biting your skin and fingering you furiously.

Your soul leaves your body as you convulse and orgasm on his fingers. He holds you against his lap, making you take the pleasure he’s giving you. Not letting you escape from it like you normally would. He doesn’t stop. You wonder if his fingers are tired, but he doesn’t stop, chasing orgasm number four from your body. Your inner walls are clenching around his fingers, riding them with an unknown desperation as he marks up your skin with his perfect mouth. Small whimpers are leaving your body as he drags you higher and higher and higher and higher until your body snaps and you go slack, arching back away from him as you tremble with your most powerful orgasm yet.

He lays you back on the blanket carefully, adjusting your legs to be more comfortable. He pulls his sopping wet hand out from under your dress, holding it up for you to see it glistening in the moonlight. “So fucking pretty.” He praises. “Fuck, I could watch you cum all day long.” He says, licking his fingers and giving a small moan. “You’re fucking delicious. Sweetest pussy on earth.” He says, sucking his fingers clean as you watch him through half lidded eyes. He leans over you, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Combined with his taste, you wrap your arms around his neck to keep him there.

He indulges for just a few minutes but then shifts himself between your thighs. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you walk around with your cum dripping down your thighs for the rest of the night?” He chuckles, lifting your dress.

“Should be your cum dripping out of me.” You say and he grins.

“That’s for next time.” He promises, and then his tongue is on you and you forget how to exist. His hand is over your exposed tit as he buries his head in your pussy. If you thought his fingers had you seeing stars? That’s nothing to the way his tongue brushes against every inch of you. He pushes it deep inside you, slurping at you, swirling around your already quivering clit. It traces every inch of your flower, searching for the nectar you release until he makes you cum two more times and then he declares you’re decent.

You are, in fact, not decent. You should like to show him right here right now how indecent you would like to be with him, but you currently can’t move. He fingered the bones right out of your body. He adjusts your dress, covering you back up and making you proper again. He lies next to you, the both of you facing the wrong way for the movie, but you don’t even care. You curl up against him, head on his chest listening to his heartbeat.

“I’ve never cum like that before.” You tell him and he chuckles, his fingertips tracing lines down your bare arms.

“That’s a crying shame. You’re stunning, and when you cum-it’s like a whole different level. I would love to watch you cum over and over all day someday. Just to watch that face you make and hear those gorgeous noises.” He says and you feel yourself blushing. “Maybe next time, we can be somewhere for you to be loud. Wanna hear you scream my name.” He whispers and you groan.

“That probably won’t be a problem.” You admit and he laughs quietly. “Can I-“ you reach for his belt buckle, but he catches your wrist.

“This was about you tonight, hermosa.” He says, pulling your hand back up to hold it on his chest.

“You look uncomfortable.” You tell him and he chuckles.

“Reward of a job well done. I like a little bit of pain.” He says softly.

You file that bit of information away for later. “Alright, just don’t go exploding. I’d like to see you again.” You warn him and he kisses the crown of your head.

“Not to worry, princesa. I won’t explode without you.” He promises and you snuggle more against his chest, satisfied and getting sleepy.

***

Javi

He looks down at you, asleep in his arms and drops his head back down. He’s in trouble. He likes this way too much for this to be his first date with you.

The credits are rolling but he doesn’t care that you both missed more than half of the movie. He lifts his head, kissing the top of your hair.

“Hermosa,” he whispers. “Wake up, pretty girl.” He says gently rocking your shoulder. You don’t move and he gently shifts you off his chest and onto your back. He kisses your forehead, between your cute little eyebrows, the tip of your nose. One temple, then the other. He can see your eyelids fluttering. He kisses down your cheek, the point of your chin, up your other cheek.

Christ, you smell good. He nudges your head to the side with his nose, kissing down your neck, admiring his handiwork with the hickie he left. He licks at the hollow in the center at the base of your throat. He allows one small nip at your skin, soothing it over with his tongue as your face scrunches and you whine softly. He trails slow kisses down your sternum, nipping at the top of your perfect breasts. He licks there, too and you shiver as the cool breeze blows over it.

You whine again, your hands coming up to settle in his hair. He kisses down between your breasts, down over your stomach, hands bunching up your skirt, wondering how far you’ll let him go with this.

“Don’t be a tease, Peña.” You mumble, eyes still closed and he chuckles.

“Movie’s over, cariño.” He comes back up, brushing your soft cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“And?” You sigh, pulling his head to yours and he laughs, kissing you with repeated quick little pecks. “You’re such a menace.” You complain.

“I’m aware.” He grins, rolling back over next to you and you sit up.

“Do you have to work tomorrow?” You ask, rolling against his chest and looking down at him. Your hair falls into your face, tickling him. He brushes it back, taking every chance to touch you now that he knows he can.

“I’m not supposed to. But in my line of work, you never really know.” He says.

“Okay. I can live with that.” You kiss him softly and pull away too quickly. He tries to follow, half sitting up and you laugh.

“I should take you home before the bugs eat you alive.” He says, sitting up next to you and leaning back on his hands.

“Unless you want another go at it.” You wiggle your eyebrows and he laughs.

“I’m not saying no.” He turns and scoots to the tailgate, pulling his boots on. You slide next to him and he gets down, scooping you up easily.

You shriek and laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Smooth.”

He winks and sets you in the front seat. He returns the speakers, gathers up the pillows and blankets and throws away the popcorn. He climbs back in and returns your shoes.

He starts the truck and is pleased when you lean against him again. He could very easily get used to this. He drives you home, parking out front. He climbs out, holding his hand out for you. He doesn’t let it go, though, as he walks you to the front door.

You hesitate at the door, fiddling with your keys. “Can I tempt you to come inside?” You ask, looking up at him.

“Darlin’, if anyone could, it would be you. But, I think I’m going to say no tonight. I always rush into everything and this-I want to take this slow.” He says, his heart cracking at turning you down, but you don’t get mad, you just smile at him so sweetly.

“Alright.” You beckon him closer and kiss him deeply, arms wrapped around his shoulders, on your tiptoes, fevered. He returns it, hands bunching into fists against your back.

“Christ, woman.” He pulls back, heart racing and breathing hard. Luckily, you look just as flushed as he feels. “Can I see you tomorrow?” He asks.

“Pending any major drug related emergencies? Absolutely.” You nod and he grins.

“It’s a date. Breakfast? I have plans.”

“I can be up in time for breakfast.” You agree.

“Perfect. Goodnight.” He says softly and makes sure you get inside and the door locks before he walks back to his truck. He climbs inside, grinning like an idiot. And it isn’t until he starts the engine that he remembers the stupid panda.

“Fuck.”

[formulapookie]

yeyy

under the cut to read on tumblr, here to read on Ao3

I need you like air bezzetti 2.5k words

Bez is known for being clingy and affectionate with people he likes.

And his friends are all ok with that, even when he's drunk and gets clingier than usual.

At least, that's what Bez thought, until two seconds ago when he went to hug Cele for the like hundredth time that night and Cele told him to leave him some space, that he was suffocating tonight, that he could stop acting like a child and stay alone for three minutes.

And Cele was drunk, he didn't mean it in a bad way, but Bez is a soft hearted person, and takes everything too harshly.

So he stops clinging all together.

The day after Cele wakes up to an empty bed and no usual sticky note with a wobbly "buongiorno" written on it Bez always leaves if he gets up earlier than him. Which is already strange, but Cele marks it as Bez being hungover and forgetting about it.

They're at Bez's, and they're completely alone for a few days, which gives Cele more than one idea to not get bored while enjoyng each other company.

He gets to the kitchen, his breakfast is ready, but Bez is not sat at the table, he's over at the kitchen sink, already cleaning up his mug.

Odd.

"Amore you already ate?" Bez nods, he isn't even watching Cele directly, who makes a strange expression.

"Amore are you ok? You seem off today" Bez sniffles, but it's so quiet Cele doesn't hear it. "Yes I was just really hungry after drinking last night, we can have lunch together I have to go to the store now"

This is not like Bez at all, even when he's hungry he would still sit at the table with Cele if he already ate, wait for him to finish and then shower him with kisses, and then order their groceries from an app, too lazy to go out and actually buy them himself.

"Bez cut the shit what's wrong? Why are you so distant? Is there something you want to tell me?"

Bez looks guilty, he's got watery eyes, he's picking at the skin around his nails, biting the inside of his cheeks.

"I am just doing what you asked me Cele" the boy doesn't understand, what does he mean he's doing what he asked him?

"What are you talking about? When would I have asked you to not even kiss me good morning? Or to just randomly go to a store you never set foot in unless we're already out because we're both lazy and order food from home?"

And Bez doesn't understand, because just some hours ago he was asked to leave some space and that's what he's doing, so he doesn't understand why Cele would now tell him not to. His brain is flooding with nonsense, Cele can see him getting lost.

"You asked me to leave you some space because I was suffocating and that I have to stop acting like a child"

Cele frowns, he didn't think Bez would've taken it so personally.

"Bez I meant in that moment, it was hot and I just needed a few minutes alone to recharge, I didn't mean to completely stop being near me, no no amore I would never say that I'm sorry if you got that wrong"

Cele gets closer, pulling Bez into a tight hug and he can feel the older relaxing, the tension that so obviously was built in his body going away.

“I’m sorry I was overwhelming yesterday I just- I wanted to hug you I didn’t want to be annoying I know I am sometimes but-”

Cele stops the nonsense with a kiss, mouth pressing lightly on Bez’s having him shut up.

“You’re not” kiss “annoying” kiss “at all amore, you’re like a super cuddly teddy bear and I love it” another kiss, deeper than the first ones, hands cupping his face and pulling the older closer.

“I am not?” Bez is someone who internalises everything, and Cele knows an efficient way to shut his mind up.

“I promise you’re not” Cele smiles, and Bez can feel he’s being honest with his answer, smiling back.

“Now, if you still don’t believe my words maybe my actions will convince you more” and Bez’s brain starts working, it takes him a few seconds to understand, still a bit foggy from the night’s drinks

“Wh- ah” as he gets what Cele is hinting to he’s nodding furiously, taking his boyfriend’s hips in his hands and pulling him closer.

They make out slowly at first, Bez still needing a bit of reassurance and Cele being more than happy to give it to him.

Once he’s sure of it Bez begins moving Cele closer and closer against the kitchen counter.

“Marco Marco wait let’s go to the bedroom”

He nods, pressing another kiss to the boy’s lips and taking him by the hand guiding him to their room.

As they’re inside Bez drags Cele to bed, having him sit on his lap in a matter of seconds, the younger rolling his hips brushing their dicks together, making them both moan.

“You’re beautiful, perfect Marco absolutely perfect” and it gets Bez flushed, Cele knows that, knows that even the slightest praise gets him aroused, the boy had found out a few months in they’re relationship, when he’d told Bez how good he was at sucking his dick and Bez came in his briefs, going completely red and extremely embarrassed, while Cele had found it extremely fucking hot, and he never stopped praising him whenever he got the chance.

When he felt more bratty he would straight up do it when they were out in public or together with their friends, Bez needing to mentally restrain himself from dropping to his knees for his boyfriend.

“Cele can I suck you off?” Cele smiles stroking the older’s hair and moving a string behind his ear “of course amore, you’re too good at it for me to say no”

And Cele can feel Bez’s dick twitch in his pants at the praise, a barely audible whimper leaving his mouth.

The younger moved to sit on the bed, while Bez shifts on the floor, knees agains the cold tiles, a bit uncomfortable yeah, but he doesn’t care right now.

since they both sleep in just a t-shirt and boxers he doesn’t even go through the trouble of unbuttoning pants, Cele simple lifts his hips and lets the other take his briefs off, as his hands have already made their way to Bez’s curls.

The older doesn’t waste anytime teasing, and just wraps his mouth around the boy’s dick, making him whine immediately.

Cele didn’t lie before when he said Bez was too good at it, he truly is, Cele still remembers the first time they hooked up and Bez got his mouth on him, he had lasted embarrassingly little, the other was simply a magician with his tongue, and he was mesmerised.

“Mh Marco you feel so good, you’re so beautiful like this” he keeps on stroking Bez’s hair, which gets the other fuelled almost as much as the praise falling from his lips.

Bez likes sucking him off, but he also desperately needs to be inside him, and wants the moment to come as soon as possible, so when he reaches the base of Cele’s cock again he takes out his tongue a little, pressing it on the base and dragging it up until the head, still applying pressure which made Cele’s head spin.

“Marco God you’re made to do this fuck- so good”

Bez obviously can tell that Cele is close, the hand gripping his hair is tighter, the little moans he makes when he’s sucking him off becoming erratic, the unconscious bucking of the hips, and the precum leaking becoming increasingly more and more.

“Marco Marco Marco I’m close I fuck you feel amazing I need to come all over your face amore”

Bez moans around his dick and he knows Cele’s second away from his release, so he lets go of him and has him take control of the situation.

Hand tilting his head slightly back, telling him to take out his tongue and closing his eyes, and then coming all over his boyfriend’s face, some ending up on his tongue and lips, some over his cheeks, which cele rapidly cleans up, kissing Bez with hunger and making him taste more of him, moans of pleasure increasing every passing second.

“Marco I want you to fuck me please i’m going to be good for you I promise”

Bez comes up from the floor he was kneeling on, kissing Cele again, moving him more to the centre of the bed, moving his mouth to kiss his jaw and neck, drawing more moans from the boy, who's getting needier by the second.

He breaks away to get the lube in the bedside drawer, and he's quick to flick the cap open and coat his fingers with it.

"Quick come on" "You just came amore, eager today?"

Cele smiles softly, but the smile rapidly switches to an expression of pleasure when Bez unceremoniously pushes one finger inside, quickly adding a second one, scissoring them to have Cele moan already at the stretch.

"Marco more please, need more" "You're so cute when you ask me that you know?"

Cele blushes, Bez kisses him again, open mouth on his neck, sucking slightly on it. Cele's hands go to tug at his curls, making him moan, Bez has many weak points other than getting praised, and having his hair played with or pulled like that is one of those.

He quickens the pace of his fingers, making space for a third one and pushing it in, and Cele already feels so good around him like that, so easy.

"Can I-" "Yes fuck Marco yes you can just do it I'm going to go crazy if you don't fuck me soon"

Bez is quick to replace his fingers with his dick, slowly pushing inside Cele who moans as he can feel every inch of Bez sliding inside him.

“Marco please” Bez has stars in his eyes, almost completely pulling out, just the tip still inside, just to slam back in, groaning at the blissful sensation of Cele tight around him.

“Cele fuck you’re so perfect” the boy whines, a long dragged out moan leaving his chest and echoing in the room.

Bez needs to fuck him, needs to see him come all over himself, drooling like he’s just been fucked stupid.

He moves his hand to tangle itself with cele's, who squeezes it as he keeps moaning Bez's name in loop, his other hand reaching for the older's back, nails scratching it lightly.

Bez wants to ruin him, have him beg, seeing him being so responsive has him think about how beautiful he looks when he's not thinking anymore and just moaning moaning moaning.

It almost makes Bez laugh, the fact he thought Cele wanted him distant, when right now the boy is trying with all his strength to pull him closer and closer.

Without any warning Bez picks up his pace, making Cele's nails dig more into his shoulder, and the older leans down to kiss him hungrily, as if Cele was a precious meal to be eaten and tasted.

" 's so good fuck you are so good I'm so close already" and Bez could've told he was from the way his back was already arching slightly, his legs shaking and the blush covering his face already reaching his ears as well.

The temperature in the room is rising quickly, neither can think straight, both of them hyper sensitive, wanting more.

Bez's hand placed beside Cele for support moves to the boy's dick, and he whines again, he needs his release so much he's practically crying.

"Marco don't stop oh fuck" Bez is now completely gone, he wants to absolutely fuck him dumb, leave him uncapable to speak, which is not something they do like yeah they may fuck a bit harder on days where one or both had a particularly bad race, but the need to fuck him so good Cele will never think of anyone but him is new, and it's hot.

"Mine, all mine fuck, I love you Cele so much" it's all said in a rough voice close to the boy's ear, making him moan louder than before, back arching off the bed and the nails on his shoulder practically drawing blood, and he's coming, a lot, all over his own stomach and Bez's hand, squeezing the one still holding his hand.

And Bez can't last long with the way Cele clenches around him, seconds later he's coming inside him with a grunt, biting at Cele's shoulder to quiet himself down.

They both stay still for a moment, catching their breaths and trying to regain composure, both a mess of sweat and curls. If they could, they'd probably stay like this for hours, pressed so close there's not even space for air between them.

But realistically they know they have to shower and break away, so Bez slowly pulls out, a moan of discomfort coming from Cele, who's let go of the other's shoulder, letting him move to his side before laying next to him.

"Amore" "Mh?" Cele's tired and hungry, he just wants to eat what BEz made for breakfast and sleep. "Gotta shower, come on get up" "Nooo, I want to stay here" "I get it Cele I truly do but you have to clean yourself or it's gonna be uncomfortable later you know that, I'll help you up"

Bez nuzzles at his neck, leaving a soft kiss on the juncture between neck and shoulder, receiving a whine from Cele, who slowly gets up.

"Can you wash my hair Bez?" "Yeah of course, but you have to get in the shower if you want me to" They manage to walk to the bathroom and when Cele sees Bez's back in the mirror he covers his mouth and lets out a little yelp.

"Oh god sorry I - I didn't mean to scratch you like that sorry does it hurt?" His shoulder is red and looks like a wild cat attacked him, but it's fine to Bez, hot even, to have those marks on his body, just as hot as it is to see little hickeys on Cele's collarbone and neck.

"It's not a problem amore, it doesn't hurt, and it's hot to see how much you liked that" Cele is blushing again, looking anywhere but Bez, hearing a chuckle coming from his boyfriend.

"Get in the shower it's getting late come on, I still have to wash your hair"

[k-dokja]

Wow, it has been a year since I last wrote something for him.

Summary: Your relationship is strange and perplexing. Neither of you mind it, it's no one else's business.

There is a line.

A clear line between you and Jonggun that you’ve accepted from the day you were introduced to him. The line which serves to be an invisible barrier between the two of you, thinner than thread but thick enough to keep the two of you from crossing it.

You can’t say you care for it. Not when you have no intention of crossing the line. Jonggun, however, does whatever he wants and he seldom thinks about the consequences of his actions if what he does bring him personal gratification. Because of that, on more than one occasion, you’ve seen him toeing the line, having a whole foot over even. You always patiently watched to see what he will do next, but after the third time this happened, you came to the conclusion that he only wanted to see you hold your breath in anticipation.

Afterwards, you stop caring.

While formality dictates that the two of you need to be faithful during your engagement, he cannot care less about it and the idea is appalling for you. Neither of you cares enough about the other to need some misguided loyalty. Even if you did, you doubt you’d ever receive it from him. You save yourself the grief by never bothering to care about it. He doesn’t have a problem with his freedom either. All is well in the world.

Until it isn’t.

“So, what are you to him, anyway?”

Joongoo, too nosy for his own good, always has a way to squirm his way into matters that shouldn’t be his to care about. You don’t really mind. You never bother to make sense of him, he’s useful enough that all of his downsides stop being a problem.

Tolerable enough that sometimes it amuses you to entertain him.

“Business partners,” you reply without glancing up from your phone. It wouldn't be your first choice to spend your free time lounging around with Joongoo, but there are worse options, you guess.

“Naur,” Joongoo says, “I’m business partner with him, business nemeses-with-benefits depending on days, but you are not his business partner.”

You glance at him. Trying to figure out what’s going on his pretty little head is a fool’s errand. You don’t even know where his nonsense begins and where his sense ends. At least, you aren’t so busy that his probing would become a bother.

“Pardon?” You say. “Him and I, we have common business ventures and same goals for expansion. What would we be if not business partners?”

Joongoo clicks his tongue, “You people sleep with your business partners?”

You snort, more amused by his misunderstanding than offended. “We aren’t sleeping together.” If this has been a year ago, you’d have said you don’t know where he gets the idea from. At this point in time, however, you’ve weathered enough people getting the wrong idea that his assumption sounds trivial to your ears.

“Aren’t you?” Joongoo asks, “Then what’s this weird vibe I’m getting from you two?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” you resist smirking, you truly do, “what’s this exact vibe you see in us?”

He shrugs, “Dunno, like, you’re too comfortable with each other and shit,” he says, “either you’ve done the tango naked or something else is going on here.”

“I like your imagination. Very vivid.” You narrow your eyes at him but say nothing more about it. The discussion alone is silly and entertaining him for this long is the extent of your generosity.

"You know I'm right," he grumbles, "Even if you aren't sleeping together, there's something there. You'd be lying if you said there isn't."

You've returned to your phone by this point, and your attention to him is torn in half but at least you continue to answer, "Well, of course there's something there. We're engaged to be wed and until either of us found it enough of a nuisance to break the engagement off, we're bound by this thin thread of obligation we cannot care less for."

"Is that what you think?"

A third voice. Masculine. Familiar, and deeper than Joongoo's. You don't even need to look up to see Jonggun entering the room. You don't have to see him to know what face he's making either. Utterly impartial and mildly amused, the bare minimum of expression.

"Isn't it the truth?" You say. "Pretending otherwise would only be kidding ourselves."

Jonggun stops behind you, his hand is set on the back of your chair. He dips low enough that when he speaks, you feel his breath fan against your ears. The only indication that it affects you is the slightest twitch at the corner of your mouth. One you doubt he can see but know it's there anyway.

"And what if I want otherwise?"

You turn to level your eyes with his, your smile saccharine sweet. "If you wish for an early death then you should take the matter into your own hands, don't involve me in it." With that said and done, you go back to your phone, and your interest in the entire conversation vanishes.

"You're sure she's the nicest one out of us?" Joongoo drawls.

You don't need to see to know Jonggun is smiling when he says next, "Was there ever a doubt?"

[thehottiesknoweren]

Keep that toxic ass love

“If that’s the way you love then i don’t want any of that shit”

Choso x reader

Tw: toxic relationship, breaking in and entering, smut (poorly written sorry), choso breaking shit/destroying stuff and overall needing therapy, mentions of pregnancy ( barely even there dw)

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was a regular Saturday for you.

Cleaning,

Cooking,

And fighting with choso.

You sighed as he kept blowing up your phone, he was cursing your out one minute and professing his love the next and honestly it was exhausting,

Last night you went to a party with your friend and posted you having fun on your story, drinking, smoking and just being a vibe.

You and Choso hadn’t been speaking to each other for at least a week, you guys were on a break, Or more like he was on a break and you were just done with his ass completely.

After viewing your story he spammed your phone with a bunch of nonsense which you didn’t reply to and simply just blocked him.

That was a mistake.

Ten minutes later he was at your house slashing your tires, and then he quickly drove away when he was done.

He then messaged you from a different number rambling again which you also blocked but that didn’t stop him.

No.

He just kept getting new numbers and you decided to feed into him a little because why wouldn’t you if he wasn’t going to leave you alone?

Choso: people who love each other don’t go out with other people while they’re just taking a break from the one they love.

Y/n: you used the wrong “they’re” it’s *their* 💀

Y/n: someone who loved you wouldn’t care about that yet I do doesn’t that tell you something goofy?

After sending that message you blocked his number again and put down your phone but who would’ve guessed this man got a new damn number.

“Text now need to take away his damn subscription or some shit damn” you yelled to yourself.

Choso: you don’t love me yet that’s all you could say when you were creaming on my dick huh? Lying ass bitch.

Y/n: never creamed on your dick. The orgasms you gave me were so weak they wouldn’t have been enough to cover the tip. All that dick yet you don’t know how to use that shit…. And how you love me but ima bitch? I see why your mother didn’t want your bipolar ass. Leave me alone don’t you got better things to do?

Y/n: And another thing, yes I don’t love you. That left last month when you thought it was okay to buss out my windows and made me cut up my thighs piece of shit. I wish you were swallowed.

Choso: I paid for the window and kissed every scar I left on your body. I didn’t mean for it to go that far, I just blacked out,

Choso: I know I’m acting crazy but I need you baby, I need my baby give me another chance I’ll get help I’ll make it right,

Y/n: Every time I do you hurt me. Do you know how much shit you’ve done to me? Choso I’ll probably never be with another man and I know that makes you happy but it shouldn’t, you’ve hurt me so bad, physically, emotionally and verbally I can’t even want a relationship. Just stop coming around I don’t need you.

He stopped texting you after this and you went to go lay down in your bedroom, sobbing in the process.

You knew deep down you loved him and wanted to be with him, he’s all you knew.

He’s the first person to explore your body and teach you what feeling good in bed meant, he was the first person to take you on dates, shopping sprees and wouldn’t let you lift a finger when you didn’t feel good, he always took care of you, did you lie earlier to hurt his ego? Yes but you had to.

Because he was also the person who slut shamed you, insulted you, broke into your house, broke everything you owned, just a few weeks ago he cut up most of your clothes that he didn’t like and burnt them, he also never knew when he was wrong and would blow the smallest thing out of proportion when you proved him wrong saying you were ungrateful.

And do you know how he solved all of this?

Sex and shopping spree’s

but to be honest you were pretty sure the sex was for him. He would destroy your health in every possible way and then he would only opt to take you shopping and then after that he would get you into the bedroom and fuck you until you were crying his name and spewing affirmations of love.

And you couldn’t take that anymore. Everyone told you that you deserved more than a man who only offered you sex and money, and although you didn’t really believe them and wanted to be with Choso you noticed that being around him only hurt you

As you were deep in thought you weren’t aware that your breathing was heavy and you were sobbing, you were having a panic attack.

The bed sunk down and a pair of hands wrapped around your stomach, you knew exactly who it was

“it’s okay” he whispered in your ear trying to calm you down.

“Choso I can’t do this with you anymore” you said. Your breathing got a little calmer, “I-I’ve been going to therapy and-“

He cut you off, “you know how I feel about that shit, why would you go?” he was getting mad so you got up out of the bed,

“That’s why. Look at the way you act” you said, also getting a bit mad and confused because he just said he would go to be with you but at last it was probably another meaningless lie spewing from his lips.

“I’m sorry that I act that way but it’s because I love you, I get mad because I love you and don’t want to lose you, it’s like when I see you doing things I don’t like I get angry and black out because I’m scared of losing you but I’m not realizing the things I do are causing me to lose you” he got up and tried to hold your waist but you pulled away.

“If that’s the way you love then i don’t want any of that shit” you looked him dead in the face letting him know you meant what you said, “if your love is you hurting me any time we argue then keep it choso” you broke eye contact because you could feel yourself starting to cry.

You felt him wrap his arms around you but you didn’t stop him, he begin to place kisses on your forehead while holding you in his arms, “I’m sorry baby, please don’t cry my love” you could hear him sniffing and looked into his eyes to see tears there too,

Suddenly he picked you up and laid you on the bed quickly getting on top of you and laying down. He kissed your chin and kept saying how sorry he was while keeping his arms wrapped around your body.

You didn’t respond but you didn’t stop him and after a while you two just laid there in silence, not a word from either of you until he decided to speak again, “I’d do anything for moments like this, moments I get to hold you” he started kissing your neck,

“Choso we can’t keep doing this, if you say you’re gonna change than do it. I can’t wait for you much longer”

He stopped kissing your neck and looked at you with a smile, he knew you were giving him a second chance, “I will baby I promise.” He kissed you passionately amd you couldn’t help but be happy,

His kiss begin to go lower and he slowly made his way back to your neck, he took his time sucking on every area his lips touched,

And his lips kept getting lower and lower until he made it to the end of the bed, he was quick to take off the skimpy satin nightgown you had on, underneath it was just you in panties no bra,

He quickly stood up and started to take off his belt and as soon as he was done he wasted no time taking off your panties and spreading your pretty legs,

He dragged one of his fingers through your folds picking up some of your juices and making you moan and arch your back in the process he put his finger in his mouth. “Just how I like it. Good girl” he said positioning his head in between your legs.

He quickly put his tongue to work and showed your touch deprived pussy just what it missed.

You never touched yourself when you and Choso were arguing, because you knew he would be right back. You felt as though only letting him touch you made you crave him more and although you would never admit it to him you never saw yourself giving up on him and not touching yourself was basically a guarantee that you wouldn’t lose fillings.

Choso on the other hand would touch himself to the thought of you everyday or sometimes just the control he had on you, he would think about how he was the only person to ever have you and only person you ever allowed to touch you. Shit like that turned him on.

Your legs started to shake intensely as he ate you out and just as you were about to cum he stopped,

He got off his knees and stood right in front of you, he put his body in between your legs and aligned his cock with your entrance, “you ready?” He looked at you but you only gave him a moan in response.

As he entered you, he could here the wet sound pussy made and that was music to his ears only making him speed up his pace to hear it more

“Fuck” he said under his breath,

You were a moaning mess for this man

He felt himself get closer to his orgasm so he came closer to your face and placed kisses all over it, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he continued to thrust inside you,

Soon you could feel him leaking inside you making you arch your back, you knew he was trying to hold his orgasm so that you could cum with him because his thrust were sloppy but firm enough so that you could feel good.

As soon as he felt your nails dig into his back he knew you were cumming.

As you painted his cock he painted your insides, “I love you” he kisses you one more time before exiting your pussy,

You could feel him getting off the bed and then you saw him entering the bathroom, you heard running water and was about to doze off but Choso came and picked you up bridal style.

He made sure you peed and cleaned you both up, “you made a mess in the bed now I have to change the sheets” he chuckled while you sat in your vanity chair wrapped in a towel, you watched him change the sheets and take the other ones to the washing machine. You couldn’t help but smile at him, he was so cute.

He came back into the room this time he didn’t have that same cute look though, he seemed mad and as he looked directly at me I couldn’t help but wonder why,

“What the fuck is this?” He held up something pink and white and as I looked closely I saw it was a test.

The test.

[pureartistchaos]

Here's the entirety of the grocery store Rocky Horror fic because I feel like it belongs on this app

(Also @bradassholemajors asked me to post it sooo...)

-

"Frank, I really don't think this is necessary."

Frank dramatically flicked his hand, lowering his sunglasses to see the face of a very uncomfortable Columbia. "Well, you are the one who was complaining about our choice of food. I'm just trying to stop your incessant whining."

"Meatloaf every single night is a bit excessive, is all! And I meant your outfit."

Frank scoffed. "I'm just trying to look presentable."

"...We're going to a Price Chopper." Janet said softly.

"And?" Frank challenged.

"And you're wearing 9 in heels, a corset, enough jewlery to put a Victorian child into a coma, and fishnets." Brad said flatly, pulling out his wallet.

"So? At least I look good. You look like you work at the price chopper." Frank retorted.

“We’re here.” Riffraff sighed, pulling the car over. “Please, just get out.”

“Thank you.” Frank smiled. “Remember, I expect the whole castle to be clean and dinner to be made when we get back.”

“You’ve told us enough times.” Magenta sighed, helping Frank out.

“Clearly not- not if you’re still complaining.” Frank rolled his eyes, stepping out of the car and dragging Brad with him.

“...Rocky and I are going to go look for some uh- bottled water! Yeah.” Brad announced, promptly sprinting off with Rocky on his heels, casting an apologetic look at Janet.

“I’m gonna go with him!” Columbia added, sprinting after the two of them.

“I guess it’s just you and me, Weiss.” Frank smirked, putting a hand around Janet’s waist. His hand was promptly swatted off.

“Unfortunately.” Janet muttered, walking inside. She pretended to look at a front display of something she didn’t want, nor did she need.

“Oh, lighten up. Brad told me you love shopping.” Frank hummed, walking into an aisle. “Ooh, this looks good! It looks like that sports drink Brad gave to Rocky… gatorade, or something?” He asked, picking up a bottle with neon blue liquid.

“...Frank, that’s windex.” Janet replied, mortified.

“Windex… I’ve never heard of it.” He shrugged, tossing it in the cart.

“Frank, you- you’ll get poisoned if you drink that.”

“Ohhh! Relax, dear, human alcohol doesn’t affect me.”

“No-” Janet sighed, putting the Windex back. “It’s a cleaning product, Frank. For windows and stuff.”

“Oh.” Frank shrugged, putting it back in the cart. “Well, that’s a gift for Magenta, then.”

“Isn’t it rude to give her-”

“Nonsense. She needs it.” Frank sighed. “Oh, Rocky would get it. I don’t know why he likes you of all people.”

“I don’t know why Brad likes you of all people.”

“And why is that? Everyone likes me!” Frank replied over his shoulder, looking at nail polish.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” Janet spat. “I’m gonna go find my fiance.”

“You still have one of those?” Frank crossed his arms.

“Just help me find Brad!” Janet snapped, marching off.

“The sign says bottled water is the other way!” Frank called after her.

“I’LL WORK MY WAY AROUND TO IT!” Janet shouted back.

Frank shrugged and walked towards the water. He regretted it instantly when he saw Rocky on the floor, flailing his arms and having a tantrum like a literal toddler.

“...He wanted a chocolate bar.” Columbia explained.

“No way. He knows he isn't allowed.” Frank snapped quickly. He seemed to instantly regret his words when Rocky screamed louder and threw a chocolate bar at him. “...Oh, my.”

“What do we do?!” Columbia asked, panicked.

“Uh- Brad will handle it!” Frank announced, pushing Brad forward.

“WHY ME?!”

“BECAUSE YOU'RE GOOD AT THIS!”

“Just let him have the damn chocolate bar!”

“No! He's only allowed to eat-”

“DUCK!” Columbia shrieked as another chocolate bar flew at them.

“Please, Frank, just let him have it!” Brad begged.

“...Fine! Fine, he can have one! Just make him stop!”

“I heard yelling!” Janet ran into the aisle.

Columbia crossed her arms. “Well, no shit.”

“Here, Rocky, you can have it.” Brad timidly offered Rocky a chocolate bar, as if he was afraid of him. Rocky instantly stopped yelling and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

The relief was short-lived as Frank took it back. “...But we have to pay for it first.”

Rocky instantly started screaming again. Columbia covered her ears. “SHIT!”

“GODDAMMIT FRANK, YOU COULDN'T HAVE LET HIM HOLD IT?!” Brad yelled, taking it back and returning it to Rocky.

“But he can't eat it yet!”

“HE KNOWS THAT!”

“It's okay, Rocky…” Janet said softly, kneeling down to him. “You can hold it.”

“You all sicken me.” Frank scoffed. “I'm finding some actual food for him.”

“I'll go too. To make sure he actually buys food.” Brad announced, walking off behind Frank.

“He almost drank Windex.” Janet explained softly.

“...Sometimes I wonder what I see in him.” Columbia confessed, picking up one of the chocolates from the floor and putting it back on the shelf.

“Sometimes I wonder what Brad sees in him.”

Columbia gasped. “You mean-”

Janet sighed, clutching the sleeve of her dress like it could protect her. “I have a feeling.”

“It's not just him.” Columbia reassured her. “He's a good guy… Frank just does that sort of thing to people.”

“I still feel ashamed he did it to me…”

Columbia smirked, glancing between Janet and Rocky. “He's not the only one.”

“I- I was in the moment! I was stressed, and he- oh… oh, I'm terrible, aren't I?” Janet looked down shamefully.

“Not in this castle, you aren't.” Columbia rested a gentle hand on Janet’s shoulder, and they shared a smile for a few moments before Columbia suddenly broke off. “Come on, let's get the boys. I don't think Magenta will appreciate trying to cook with whatever Frank assumes is food.”

“We could just go out to eat.” Janet agreed.

“Then let's go.”

“Wait.” Janet stopped her to grab a bottle of wine. She hesitated and grabbed two.

“Two? Damn, Weiss, you have no shame.”

“Shut up. Something tells me we're gonna need them.” Janet snapped, handing Columbia a bottle and helping Rocky off the ground. They were about to head out of the aisle when a security guard approached them.

“Is one of you… er… Columbia? Am I reading that right?” He asked.

“Yes.” Columbia stepped forward.

“Your friend is outside. And… Janet, I presume? So is your fiance.” He said promptly. As he walked away, Janet heard him mumble “Fucking weirdos”.

“I wonder what they did to get kicked out?” Janet asked worriedly.

“Knowing Frank? I'm surprised it took him this long to get kicked out. But Brad?” Columbia scoffed.

The two walked cautiously to the front with Rocky in tow, and found Frank standing there angrily, ranting to Brad.

“And I didn’t even do anything wrong! It's their fault for making the robot so stupid.” Frank scoffed.

“Exactly! Plus, if they didn't want it to be punchable-”

“What did you do?” Janet asked angrily.

“Um… listen, Janet-” Brad started.

“He punched the storekeeper robot thing.” Frank smirked.

“HE WHAT?!” Janet shrieked. Columbia just sighed and opened the wine- which they had not paid for- and took a long drink of it.

“It wouldn't move so Frank could get the bread!” Brad protested. “And it kept beeping.”

“I already called Magenta from the phone in the store.” Frank sighed. “She is on her way.”

“CORRECTION, SHE'S ALREADY HERE!” Magenta yelled from the car, driving up to the curb. “Get in, before we get in more trouble.”

Everyone nodded and promptly got in the car, not even buckling in before Magenta sped off.

Brad gasped when he saw what Columbia was holding. “Did you pay for that wine?!”

“Nope.” Columbia smirked, offering some to Janet. Janet wordlessly took it and downed half the bottle, while Columbia turned to Magenta. “Can you take us to McDonald’s, please?”

“Can-” Frank protested.

“Rocky can eat it.” Columbia snapped back.

Magenta sighed. “You owe me,” she scoffed as she turned the car around.

“Thank you.” Columbia smiled back.

...

“Rocky, no, the toy isn't food.” Frank scolded, taking the small Hello Kitty toy away from him.

“Why do they put those in the boxes?” Magenta asked, taking a sip of her coffee. “Also, this coffee is shit.”

“That's kinda the point of the place.” Brad sighed. “Rocky, no, don't eat the- you eat the chicken nuggets! These things!”

“I'll take them if he doesn't want them.” Columbia smirked, eating her own and taking a sip of her Dr. Pepper.

“Eat your own food.” Frank replied, hesitantly taking a bite of his hot fudge sundae.

“Says the one who's barely eaten anything.”

“I'm surprised they let us bring the alcohol in here.” Janet added.

“I worked here when I was sixteen. They don't pay you enough to care.” Columbia explained.

“Thanks for paying for all this, Brad.” Janet smiled.

“Wait, I paid for this? I thought Columbia did!” Brad sat up.

“I did! With your credit card.” Columbia laughed, passing the card back. “You can have this back- I doubt it'll be very useful after this, though.”

[blorbologist]

21 - maybe something sci-fi?

21. Blessing of Vivec, Morrowind soundtrack

Every time Vax has asked what his sister is up to, she’s simply replied ‘NDA’. 

The accompanying wink is implied, or imagined, because it’s all been over the phone since she took a plane to Costa Rica for this mysterious contract.

It’s Vex his thoughts go to, though, as he carefully pries the flat mudstone in two. The dark, delicate impressions of feathers fan out in his hands. Part of a wing. 

He sits back on his heels, taking a moment to bask in the excitement before something at the edge of the slab catches his eye. “Keyleth!”

With her mane of red hair tied back and protected by a bandanna, Vax can’t pick her out of the crowd of working grad students and volunteers until she stands. The tarp overhead flaps and waves to announce her arrival as she picks her way closer. 

Keyleth has a “Sorry! Just gotta - scoot by,” or an “Oops! Sorry, let me just -” for everyone as she picks her way across the dig. For Vax, though, she has a smile warmer than the sun they’re hiding from. He basks in that too before nodding towards his find.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous!” Keyleth gasps, crouching down for a better look. She reaches out as though to touch the feathers. “That’s gotta be… a raptor, right? What’s the little one in this formation again?”

“Acheroraptor,” Vax says. “But I think this might be too big of a wing for that little guy.”

She rocks back and forth on her heels. “Do you think - oohh! That’s exciting!”

“Definitely.” His throat suddenly dry, Vax clears it of dust. “But this here - that’s a ginkgo leaf, right?”

Keyleth’s gaze jumps downward; this time she touches the fossil. Which really isn’t - but he wasn’t supposed to crack anything open until they’d hauled it all back to the lab anyways. “Oh, definitely! Can’t be anything else. Or, it could be, but I don’t think so - we do know ginkgos from Hell Creek, but they’re pretty -”

She stops herself. “Do you hear that?”

He doesn’t - unless she means his heart beating a mile a minute, overwhelmed with everything (a preserved wing in his hands, Keyleth by his side, you know). 

No, she definitely means the whirr of what can only be a mother fucking helicopter steadily getting louder. 

--

Vex is the last person he expected to see hopping out of a helicopter.

Between the terrible reception where she is and how busy he’s been since finally getting tenure (on top of running the dig in the summer, and - well, other shit), he hasn’t seen her in the last three years.

She looks good - better than he does, at least, after half a day sweating in the middle of the badlands and what feels like geologic ages of stress weighing on his shoulders.

He’s very glad he elected to leave his precious fossil behind; it leaves him free to tackle her into a hug and spin her around and around until they might achieve liftoff.

“You couldn’t have sent a heads up first?” Vax squeezes her tighter in retaliation; he can’t tell where his laughter starts and hers ends. “Where the fuck have you been, Stubby?!”

Vex wheezes nonsense. Fine - he puts her down, enjoys her dramatic gasps for breath, and endures the weak punch to his shoulder. “You know what? I can actually tell you about that!” She glances over the gawking dig team. “Maybe in private, though. Are we near your base camp, or would you like a ride down the mountain in style?”

“Can I come too?”

They whirl around. Keyleth sticks out her hand, smile stilted and nervous. “I mean, hi - oh, hi, I’m Keyleth, I’ve heard so much about you -”

Vax chuckles. “Keyleth, Vex. Vex, Keyleth.” He was going to teasingly ask if Vex could handle a walk over the hill, but the sight of feathers in Vex’s hair stops him dead. “Shit - wait! Vex, I’ve got the coolest fucking thing to show you first.”

As he takes her wrist to show her the fossil, Vex giggles. “I’m sure it’s the tits, but - fuck, you won’t believe what I’ve got in store for you.”

She gasps, struck by a thought of her own. “Oh, please say yes. You better say yes - you’ll finally get to meet Trinket!”

Keyleth, jogging up behind them, asks, “Trinket? Who’s that?”

Vex winks. “That's under NDA.”

--

[Jurassic Park is technically scifi ;3]

For my Spotify Wrapped prompt game!

[thechanglingchronicles]

Okay okay fine

We’ll talk about Scott (1/18 traffic analysis)

I’m gonna start by saying if you’re a die hard Scott fan you probably won’t like this, I’m not the biggest fan of his. Please go look at my other posts or just ignore this.

I’m starting a new thing where I just don’t want to ruin something for someone but I am a little hater.

I’m also so incredibly biased and not in his favor.

Also just about characters!!

So with that out of the way……

Scott!!

Honestly I think people mischaracterize him a lot. Which who cares do whatever you want forever but for the sake of this you’re wrong <3

Let’s start with 3rd life!

I don’t like how he treats Jimmy. I’m so sorry flower husband fans I totally get the appeal!! It’s like yeah Jimmy is a goof and he’s bad at stuff but like Scott doesn’t think Jimmy can do anything right. He berates him and makes fun of him to other people. He’s nice to him only for the benefit of himself, so he won’t drag down their team.

He expects his death.

Isn’t that tragic? He makes a widow’s alliance like he can’t wait for him to die. Like it’s expected. Jimmy’s not cursed yet. It’s not likely he’s going to win or anything but you can’t believe in him at all? You have zero faith he can live past you?

It’s so demeaning. It comes across as him thinking he’s better than Jimmy and I think he does believe that.

Of course in the end Scott seems pretty heart broken but the reason he doesn’t go through with his new alliance is because Cleo died.

Then we have the home scene at the end which is sweet but doesn’t make Scott any less annoying to me.

Scott never gets overcome with bloodlust which is interesting because of how many kills he has. That’s all him, no revenge, very little red/boogy bloodlust, he kills because he can.

What is the bloodlust just not strong enough for you? Too good for that too?

Okay he teams up with Pearl in last life because he hopes she will give him a life. Just for teaming up with him? And she does of course.

At least Ren had something to offer undying loyalty and willingness to die for Lizzie.

Like that’s a deal worth taking.

Pearl at least is like you gotta prove your worth somehow?

Then again he’s trying to team up with Cleo like real shit I guess, I would too. it just feels shity to me. If I was teamed with Scott I’d question whether or not he really cared about me at all.

He just comes off as selfish in any situation he can. I should probably give him a little credit, he is in a death game.

It’s the way people portray him as this guy who’s very morally superior and doesn’t play dirty.

But he’s ALWAYS playing dirty.

He’s constantly manipulating everyone around him.

He’s such an asshole to me idk

He’s telling Scar that they’re friends and allies but he never does anything for Scar or spend any time with him. Ditching him when Cleo tries to stay aligned with him after they get a life from him.

He very easily lies to whoever he wants to and gets away with it. His actions never catch up to him. He’s never held accountable and he’s constantly being rewarded for lying and manipulating the people around him.

Anyway the start of my hated journey is double life because he’s the worst in this.

I don’t understand why Cleo and Scott are so butt hurt about not finding their soulmates, it was funny though so I’m not upset about that.

When Pearl comes and finds him, he expects her to grovel like Martyn does. They didn’t really do anything wrong though? They were both properly geared up and it’s not like they were the only people trying to get recourses?

It’s nonsensical after listening to their explanation to still be upset, but they don’t listen or hear them out they just want to be begged for forgiveness.

Pearl of course was not going to do that and she of course is not innocent and antagonized him after that.

He’s not forgiven by me for what he did to Pearl for letting her win. She should have killed him.

That is not Scott’s only sin, what kinda douche builds a ranch specifically so you can make one better than your friends? The ranch by the way was also created to break up other peoples relationships while gaslighting them about that very fact.

Cleo and Scott spend all of double life trying to manipulate the different soul bounds because they are unhappy in their own.

Scott’s defining characteristic is being petty.

Limited life we have all the sacrifices he does, overdone at this point.

He’s so cocky. I feel like people miss that. He antagonizes and tries to get people to want to kill him. Which is how Scott has killed Joel so many times.

Scott is annoying so Joel will want to kill him but he keeps getting him.

In limited life specifically it’s so jabansksjsjsj

Because Joel is just trying to stay in the game longer he’s getting desperate and a little deranged and Scott just keeps killing him. I don’t how many kills but it was over kill.

Ugh and how he acts around Jimmy, like respect his boundaries. MAYBE theirs a good reason he doesn’t want to be around you, FREAK.

Keep the stupid pufferfish to yourself he’s over you!!

I get the ick or whatever

Ahem

Then he lets Martyn kill him for time and then the win and like where’s the drama???

Scott frfr would had another basic bitch ending like thank you Martyn for being the one interesting guy here.

Secret life

All of his actions became unforgivable when he didn’t let western duo team up, genuinely wanted to strangle him.

God again with the thinking you have some authority with what Jimmy does and thinking you know better than these grown people.

MAYBE some people are here for a good time, a loyal time, a fun time! Not a long time, but YOU wouldn’t know anything about that.

I appreciate the growth this time the final self sacrifice kill did have drama, but it was mostly Gem sounding genuinely devastated about killing him. (Idk know why that’s devastating I’m still upset about Jimmy and Scar not teaming)

I honestly don’t remember anything about real life really don’t count any of that as canon besides Cleo being a winner and Joel getting motion sickness really easy.

My hatred might actually be mostly the Jimmy and Scar thing and the fandoms interpretation.

I feel like he’s either worse than you think or just as bad but in a different way???

Kill the twink in your head.

[burning-academia-if]

Lars & 16. snowball fight? 👉👈

Lars + Snowball Fight

There was probably a reasonable, more mature way to deal with Lars Angel. In the months you’ve known him you’ve since to find it. But Lars was, well, Lars. He was always distant and cold and brushing you off, all while dressing like he was an elderly man living in the 1920s and maybe you were at the end of your ropes.

            It was the final straw when he’d given you his usual vague glances when you’d called out to him after getting out of your last final. Sure, it was to be expected. And yet. It felt like any and all raptor you’d managed to build up didn’t exist unless when it suited him best.

            So yes, you did drop down, scoop up some freshly fallen snow, and lobbed it at his head as he turned away without so much as a hello. And yes, you did mess up his overly perfect hair. He was going to kill you. It did nothing to drop the grin from your face. Even as passersby eyed you, those who knew the infamous man with the gaze of someone about to witness a murder.

             Slowly he turned around, and you kept your shit-eating grin, “Sorry, Lars. I think you were too quiet. Did you say ‘hello’ back?”

            He shook his head and the remnants of the snow fell off. His eyes narrowed faintly and people subtly got out of the way, not wanting to get caught in the cross fire, “I’m too busy for your nonsense today.”

            “Of course you are! Whenever are you not? But you can still spare a second to acknowledge me.”

            “I’ve acknowledged you.” His voice was flat. He turned away. Oh, you weren’t going to let this go quite so easily.

            But before you could so much as go for a second throw, you blinked and then you were almost teetering as a snowball hit you square in the face. You gasped, the cold biting as it hit your skin.

            Quickly you scrubbed it off, and your smile only grew, “Oh, so you do have a fun side?”

            “If you go for one more—”

            “What are you going to do? Don’t tell me you, Mr. Joyless-and-Boring, is going to have a snowball fight with me.” His eyes narrowed further, and the two your eyes locked in a standoff. There was still snow clinging to his jacket, you noted with mirth. And his scarf had come undone just a little. “Well?”

            You hadn’t expected him to actually do it. But one second the two of you were staring off and the next the two of you were running through the courtyard, off the paths, as people glanced over in surprise. Lars had perfect aim, because of course the bastard did, and you were mostly just trying to run away because you knew it was over the moment he caught up to you.

            Still, you tried your best and missed more then half your shots and a breathless laughter trailed after you. It was as you got to the end of the courtyard, and snow covered grass got turned to concrete, a hand was at your wrist. You fell back, foot slipping ever so gracefully, into a sturdy body. All the snow from being pelted with snowballs fell off as you hit.

            “You are a menace.” Lars stated, breathing almost as hard as you.

            “At least I keep things entertaining.” You turned to face him and he dropped your wrist. You reached out, lightly pushing strands of hair back into place. “You should probably fix your appearance. I can’t believe you’d look unprofessional when you have…whatever your busy with.”

            He swatted your hand away, “Are you satisfied.”

            “No.” You quickly backed away before he could grab you again. “You still haven’t said ‘hello’ back.”

            “…Hello. Now are you satisfied?”

            “Yep!” He brushed the snow off his clothes, and you wondered all the ways he was thinking of killing you. “This all could have been avoided if you just said it in the first place.”

            “Noted.” Lars turned, having enough of you for the day, and honestly, probably for the entire week. Still, it was with great satisfaction that when you caught him the next day, he finally greeted you back.

[offbrandkyoya]

48 fine then

previous | masterlist | next

You sat there for a good moment. Your eyes glanced down at the article occasionally. Should you tell Thoma? It might not be true but the pictures say otherwise. You continued to stare at your phone. Maybe you should tell Childe? He’s the one who sent you Thomas pic in the first place. Though, he said it was private information.

You bit your lip. ‘What to do, what to do?’ “Hey.” You jump when you felt Scaramouche sit next to you. He looks at you in confusion. “What’s wrong?” You shifted a bit. “Um, well, it’s…” Scaramouche feels himself panic. Was it about the kiss? You seemed into it so he thought- “It’s about Thoma.” Suddenly, his eyes went cold. “What?” You sigh before showing him the article you received. You watched as he slowly took in the information, his eyes widening at each word.

He pulls away once he finished and looks at you with an unamused expression. “So what?” It’s your turn to be surprised. “W-What?” “It doesn’t have anything to do with us so why worry?” “He’s my friend! This adds up to why Childe doesn’t want Thoma to be known to me!” Then, you looked down at your lap. “And why he felt uncomfortable when I talked about DCKZ.” Scaramouche’s brows furrowed. “This has nothing to do with you.” He states but you didn’t believe him.

“Scara, if it gets out that Thoma is dating me to the media and later fans confirms that he’s from Dilucs dating scandal, who knows what can happen! It can possibly not only ruin Dilucs but DCKZ entire career!” He scoffs, “You’re speaking nonsense.” “I’m not! Why can’t you understand-“ “I do understand!” He balls up his fists. “Yn, seriously, this is all bullshit. Do you even believe that’s true?! It could be photoshopped for all we know!” You furrowed your brows and stood your ground. “I’m trying not to cause anything in the later future. Dilucs my friend and-“ “You guys aren’t close, yn! I introduced you to them but that doesn’t mean you guys are buddy buddy.” You grow furious and stand up, placing your phone on the table.

“What’s your problem? I’m trying to speak rationally!” He stands up as well. “You keep saying all that but if you tell them, that’ll start something!” “How?! Enlighten me Scaramouche!” He grits his teeth and you roll your eyes. “Honestly, it’s like I can never satisfy you.” “That’s not even true! God, I get jealous once and suddenly I’m the bad guy!” “I didn’t say anything like that!” You felt your vision go blurry.

“It seems like it! Is Thoma your new guy now or what?” You gasp, “He’s my only friend from school! Are you trying to say I’m cheating on you?!” He scoffs, “Oh please! You were all over him. ‘Friend’ my ass! You clearly prefer him over me!” “That’s not true at all!” “It is, Yn! Everything is always about you when it’s not! You always play victim!” Your eye twitched. “Asshole, I know it’s not about me! You’re the one who keeps making me a bad guy!” “I’m only saying what’s true!” “No, you’re not!” Suddenly, you felt the tears go down with your voice growing sore. “I know you went through a lot as a kid but your trauma doesn’t excuse you to act such a bitch to me!” That pushed Scaramouche off the edge.

“Shut the fuck up, yn. This has nothing to do with my fucking mom you little shit. At least I’m doing something in my life instead of pursuing something that’ll get me nowhere in the future because no one believes in me!” Then, you two went quiet. Scaramouche realized what he said, he notices your tear stains on your cheeks. That all makes Scaramouche feel weak. His mouth felt dry as he talked, “Yn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“ “No, it’s okay.” You mustered out but started to burst out crying.

He hurries to your side and holds your shoulders. “Yn, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He says frantically but you simply shook your head as you cried. You forced away out of his hands and collapse onto your knees. “Please, leave me alone.” You say while covering your face. Scaramouche felt his chest hurt like he ran out of air. “Okay.” He watches you cry and cry before he steps out and leaves to his place.

Scaramouche left you there crying and you knew you asked him to but a part of you wanted him to ignore your request and sit down with you. You wanted him to hold you as he said sorry and you wanted to hold him as you apologized too. It’s too late for that now and you were all alone.

You sniffled as you reached for your phone with shaking hands. You opened messages and pressed on Scaramouche’s contact. You began to type but stopped. ‘What if he doesn’t want to see me? I hurt him.’ You swiped away and scrolled to someone else. You clicked on Aether’s contact and decided you’d call him in case he couldn’t text.

He picks up, “Hello?” “Aether,” You croaked as you wiped away your snot. “Yn?! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” “Are you home?” You dodged the question with another one. “Yes but are you okay?” Hearing that made you bawl even more. “Can you come over?” You asked him in broken words. “Yes. I’ll be right there.” “Okay.” You hang up and hug your knees.

You didn’t know how long it was until you felt your eyes grow tired. Once they were closed, your door opens revealing Aether. He puts away the spare key and hurried to your side. “Yn, what’s wrong?” You pull him into a hug and cried, “I messed up.” “W-What do you mean?” He asks, hugging you back. “Scara and I got into a fight and I said things and he said things and it’s all my fault.” Aether’s eyes widen since he noticed Scaramouche stand outside as he was making your way to your apartment. He noticed Scaramouche looked rather dull and hearing all this is the reason why. He shushed you, patting your back. “It’s not your fault, yn. Here, let’s sit.” He leads you to the couch. “Did you eat anything?” “N-No.” “I’ll make you something and you can tell me everything, okay?”

You nod and he smiles. “I’ll be right back.” He walks to your kitchen while you wait. When he comes back with a plate of snacks, he sits next to you and listens to your story. He stayed with you until you felt better and you appreciated that. You hope that this can all be resolved even if it takes a big step.

- BREAKUP ARC?!?!!,,!

- jk

- still intense 😜 (i was supposed to post this yesterday but i forgor 💀💀💀)

- team scaramouche or team yn 🤨🤨

- or none cause fuck them 🦅

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